Anyone interested in an &Team fic? 👀 Prince K, baby brother Taki, prince Yuma (plus brothers Nicholas and Maki), POV changes between K and Yuma. Main pairings are Kuma and YuTaki, side ships include Nichojoo, of course. I haven't put anything on Tumblr in so long, I can't even figure out the formatting here :p But let me know if interested. I'll post on Ao3 one day. Just started this Saturday and have thirteen pages, so it might go somewhere. Check below if interested!
👑
At seven, drawn by concern more than a rebellious nature, Yudai had stood with his nose barely pressed between where the door met its latch so only the flicker of the room’s strongest candle might reveal him when he had heard his mother scream. The fear the sound shot into him was an arrow quivering in its target that caused his fingernails to dig into the wood keeping him at bay. If he had felt along the grain, he might have found the indents from the years previous, but like a notch marked to show how much he had grown, he wanted the marks to be fresh. The yells and curses his mother were rambling out had been enough to send him running to his nurse with tears of his own at two and three and even four.
But at five, he had listened without permission and yet without being reprimand to his sibling struggling to be born. Too young to understand then, he thought the cries were the baby fighting for its life as the physicians ran past and women covered in red all repeating,
“The baby—the second—save the baby—the boy—” But his mother’s screams weren’t for herself. Yudai had seen enough babies now to know they made a lot of noise, but his mother had told him now—then; after the first one died between her legs—that until a baby’s first cry, a mother must do all the screaming for it. So he mustn’t be afraid.
The silence at six just meant Yudai knew before any official came out to tell all the lords and ladies waiting with whispers passing behind their fans. A few tried to cry, but their bodies had lost too much sweat already. No one had anything left to give the queen that day, and Yudai lost a sister his mother never even saw.
Now, with a servant rushing by with a bowl of water and a candle in the dark, Yudai allowed himself to be brushed aside with a firm but gentle command to get out of the way. He left his print on the door and pressed another into his nails as his mother let out another cry before he realized that this year would be different. Even if the stale smell that made him want to cover his nose was the same as all the births he could remember up until now. Even if his mother had still held this sibling the night before when her body still separated them as she said a prayer she had repeated more days of her marriage than any other type of prayer for any other blessing. Even if he was still just a child and not able to help much.
With a last press of his palm against the door like the soft greeting he had always given to his mother’s belly every morning before going to his lessons, Yudai ran down the hallway, his bare feet slapping against the stone. This baby would be different, he vowed as the stars watched him slip out and rush along the garden paths to his favorite hidden nook only his mother knew about. Moving so fast not even the moths could impede his journey, he thought to thank the lights guiding his path. When he came to his corner, he ducked under the hedges and wiped at his brow, summer almost sticking to him already. But looking around his sacred spot, he realized the books he had left here to study could be put away soon. They would travel in the summer, as they always did. He would swim in the lakes and maybe be big enough this year to ride his horse on his own. Summer meant chasing fireflies and rolling down hills until the grass made his neck itch and the clover made his nose twitch.
The baby would be born in summer, and he would be free to be what he wanted, to do what he wanted, to learn what he wanted because he would be Yudai’s brother. With his nails digging into his skin, already hard like a grown-up’s despite his young age and even younger heart, Yudai looked up into the open night and opened his mouth. With a breath so deep he felt like he swallowed a star, he yelled, he screamed, he howled, he cried at the moon until his new brother could do it for himself.
🐱
He was “too old for crying,” at least according to the same brother that pulled his hair but punched him if he tried to do the same, but Yuma can’t help the fat tears rolling down his face. He’s well aware of his younger brother standing in the doorway watching him, and yet he can’t bring himself to care. If Maki had asked, their father surely would have said yes. Their parents give Maki everything he asked for. But, forever stuck in the middle, Yuma has already learned many truths of the world by the well-rounded yet odd age of seven.
The second son, he became the mortal enemy of his oldest brother from his birth without even asking for it. In return, Yuma has made Nicholas his arch rival in all aspects of life. If Nicholas liked his father, Yuma clung to their mother. When Nicholas picked up a sword, Yuma aimed for a bow. When Nicholas said he would be the fastest swimmer, Yuma sat his feet to the dirt and ran so far not even the guard assigned to them could keep up. When Nicholas drew during his lessons and tried to bother his brothers during their sessions, Yuma focused well and protected their youngest brother from the devil’s distractions. When Nicholas acted hurt and began to pout and gave weak excuses like “If you love me, you will listen to me,” Yuma argued his way out of getting in trouble and consequences and said “If you love me, you will stop pulling my hair.” The first truth of the world Yuma had learned was that siblings were simply meant to be contrary to each other and not get along.
The refusal now, for the third year in a row, to be given a hound for his next birthday, solidified another truth Yuma had already suspected: Sometimes being good and always obeying your elders and saying your prayers and going to bed on time and finishing your lessons and remaining an angel in every granny’s eye who forgot they were holding a sewing needle before they reached over to pinch, and therefore poke, your cheek wasn’t really worth it in the end. A head pat, a “good job,” even a coveted “I’m proud of you son,” was easily forgotten or, worse yet, replaced with more, harder work. Rewards, when even less frequently given, never lasted beyond an excellent baked tart. Nothing was ever given to Yuma like a dog.
Stuck, therefore, with the worst older brother who had mastered charm at nine so somehow only showed his mischievous eyes when adults weren’t around, and a younger brother who was still so young he cried every time he scraped his knee or Yuma played without him so it was easier to just ignore him altogether, Yuma headed into the world on his own. And yet even that was impossible, for everywhere he went there was someone or something.
Servants, constantly pacing up and down the castle’s hallways. Knights guarding every door even into rooms like the library Yuma would never enter unless dragged by a tutor or if Nicholas showed any disgust toward reading. Visiting guests who might stop and expect him to answer questions of state as if he cared about places he had never seen. And on top of all the people—below them and all around—were the walls with enough creaks to resemble the elders coughing in church, a secret language only the very wised could understand. The floors with dips and grooves did their best to trip him so his toe would catch, his palms would slap flat against them, his chin would jostle just right against his tongue, and his scream would send everyone into a frenzy. Lights flickered above him or enlarged his shadow like a train of guards were suddenly following him, and even outside the stars and the moon sent secret assassins darting between trees, so Yuma’s attempted escapes never went unnoticed.
And yet Yuma knew at seven to not stop trying. He had learned from his brother Nicholas, as he frowned so hard Yuma was tempted to remind him of what their nurses used to say—“Your face will stick like that, my lord”—while growing frustrated with his numbers again until he took up his slate and walked around the courtyard until he came back, lines on his board solving the problem but none remaining on his forehead as he presented his answer with a smile. Yuma had learned from Maki—as he sniffled so hard Yuma had to remember self-control was a virtue so he didn’t lean over and whisper, “You’ll lose your brains right out your nose if you cry too much”—while blood ran in a zigzag down his leg before the little boy picked up the wooden sword and stood his ground knowing he had no way of winning against the stronger, faster, and wiser foe that was their father. He had learned from his mother, as her smile faltered at dinner when yet another supposed honor guest made a comment not quite quietly enough as their father was busy with his boisterous voice elsewhere before she turned and, in the untraditional and shocking way that she always did when presented with such a challenge, offered the man more wine.
Trying not to hide completely, then, and knowing he couldn’t get away from everyone and everything, Yuma curled up on his window seat with his blanket around him and looked out at the moon through his windows that he could never stare out for long as the tiniest dips in the glass made the view like one of a perpetually soft rain storm. The only moisture came from his tears and then, embarrassingly as he wiped his quilt quickly over his face, temporarily from his nose. Looking out at the castle walls and the forest beyond, he decided even if he was “too old for crying,” he would not give up on his dream for a dog. With the moon as his witness, he swore before he was ten that he would come to own a hound.
hey there is this series i was trying to find for a while, and i wanted to try and get your help in finding it. the fic was set in prehistoric korea? or maybe japan… not sure. its jungkook x oc and jungkook is from a higher class of society in the fic and the oc was set to be arranged married to jk. i remember the plot twist being that the oc was not the actual girl who jk was supposed to be married and was the maid of the actual girl. i dont really remember that many details rn. i am sorry about that.
🌷Hi there! Sorry I just saw this ask but it sounds like a fic series by @54daysormore! Let me find it on their tumblr and will edit this post later, once I'm able to =). (you may also check their blog for the masterlist and links)
Edit: Posting the link to the masterlist here. The fic is The Lie Untold. I remember reading this on ao3 so you may also search it there (it's the same handle I think)
I hope this isn’t an insensitive question! Do you plan on writing more x reader fics? I love your writing regardless. But I know your reader insert fics would be fantastic too 💕
Hiya! I've gone back to teaching full time, so I haven't had time or brain power to write in months. I'm not opposed to writing any type of fic, but unfortunately life has me too busy right now to even consider 💜 I hope you're well and taking breaks for yourself!
Hi B! Just wanted to wish you a happy new year! I hope 206 treats you kindly. I’m wishing for you to be healthy happy and safe in the coming year. Sending you love!💕
Hi B! How are you? How’s life going? Been so long but I was happy to see you answer some asks! I’m sending you love and hugs!
Hello lovely! I started teaching again, so work has been all-consuming. I feel, as I have the past three or more years, really distant from the fandom right now, especially in the writing scene. We all know COVID created a shift in sharing anything we created for free and fun. AI is now making the situation even worse. I have many thoughts. I mostly feel lost and lonely. I long to write because it really brings me joy like nothing else, but years of few interactions have left me feeling like there's no point. Of course, I'd never say that to anyone else! I'd always encourage people to share!! Anyway. Thanks for checking in 💜. I am still around if anyone needs anything 💜
Kintsugi by @dpr-moni (104k)
In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.
so it goes by @prodagustd (57k)
You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.
the road not taken by @prodagustd (outgoing)
To have the job you’ve always wanted and the life you’ve always dreamt of you had to break a few hearts, including your own. Four years later after running away from your home, your family and friends, you realized that maybe you fucked up; you’ve been a bad daughter, a bad sister and a bad friend. Getting your shit together seemed difficult enough, you didn’t expect that it included facing the first man who ever broke your heart: your brother’s best friend
Dating Advice by @taleasnewastime (54k)
It’s been months – ok, it’s been years – since you last went on a date. And you’re sick of it. Sick of seeing couples kissing and holding hands in the street. Sick of your friends settling down. Sick of everyone buying houses and having families. You’re going to do something about it. You’re going to snap up a man, you’re going to tie someone down, you’re going to finally commit, you’re going to – you’re going to need a bit of advice.
you like because, you love despite by @gunwoo-bh (outgoing)
Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that.
look down on me like that by @here2bbtstrash (124k)
your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.
please be naked by @floralseokjin (61k)
Recently heartbroken, it feels like you’ll never be able to get over it. But a chance encounter with a guy you haven’t seen in months changes everything…
Mixtape by @sailoryoongs (68k)
You’ve had a crush on Yoongi for most of your life. On a holiday trip to the cabin, you’re reunited with Yoongi after not seeing him from two years and things go less than according to plan.
Oh, Darling! by @yoongiofmine (108k)
Starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?
Pink Bird House by @54daysormore (157k)
Tae really wants a pink bird house, but his dad is definitely too busy to make one with him. Enter Y/N. Then exit Y/N. Right?
Hello queen 54 (idk your name and I’m sorry!!) just wanted to check in. I hope you see this message. Your fics (especially pink bird houses I’m sorry if you’re tired of hearing about people loving that fic) always bring me such comfort and joy and I hope you yourself are getting some joy in life. I adore you and love you and I hope you’re well.
I will never grow tired of hearing that my words have helped someone somewhere somehow. I'm glad BTS and the characters I wrote inspired by them are still helping others feel joy 💜 Thank you for reaching you. I hope you're well.
I am IN LOVE with your yoongi fic, pink bird houses. you cannot tear me away from this story. yoongi is so!! frustrating!! and Tae is such a cutie ☹️ only three chapters in and I'm bouncing in excitement. I'm gonna go back to reading after sending this in, I just nEEDED you to know what utter brilliance you write.
THANK UUU
(after this series is finished I WILL explore each and every story in your masterlist, guaranteed. your work? chef's kiss 🤌. I regret not stumbling upon your fics earlier :( )
Thank you so much! Tickles my heart that this is still my most popular work on Tumblr!! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!
it’s no secret that tumblr writers have been leaving or deactivating their blogs, especially in the last year or two. and i think the reason why is even less of a secret.
the fact that writers have to practically beg for feedback and interaction on a site where they post their works for FREE is ridiculous. the fact that most of the people who are reading and consuming these works don’t even spare 10 seconds to add a nice tag to their reblog (if they even bother to do that) is borderline enraging. this is tumblr, not instagram or twitter. likes on tumblr do nothing for the writer. i don’t care if you think that it helps them appear in the tags, or if you think that seeing yet another “___ liked your post” is encouraging to them, because it doesn’t and its not.
and speaking of likes, why is the ratio of likes to reblogs so fucking huge? and before you think i’m being dramatic, lets take a look at some of the notes from my own works.
at the time of me writing this, my one-shot, dream lover, has 821 notes. that’s pretty good right? but let’s see how many are empty likes and how many are reblogs.
769 likes.
52 reblogs.
out of those 52 reblogs, 35 of them are empty. no tag, no comment.
one of my reactions currently has 2,038 notes. you may be thinking that’s a lot, which it is and i’m incredibly thankful for how many notes i’ve gotten on it. but how many are likes and how many are reblogs?
1,924 likes.
113 reblogs.
out of those 113 reblogs, 81 of them are empty.
one of my headcanons currently has 1,110 notes.
1,069 likes.
41 reblogs.
28 of those 41 reblog are empty.
why is it so hard to reblog things and give feedback?
“oh but it won’t fit my blog theme!” if you’re so fucking concerned about what your precious tumblr blog looks like, then send an ask. they’re just as appreciated.
“i don’t know what to say tho!” we’re not asking you to be shakespeare. if you’re really that no thoughts head empty just put a keyboard smash, if nothing else.
“but i’m shy and embarrassed!” the anonymous option is there for a reason, and most writers have it turned on. being shy when you have the option of keeping your identity a secret is no excuse.
and yes, i’m aware that some writers don’t have the anon option on, which brings me to my final point.
stop. demanding.
if a writer has requests open, be a decent human being and use your manners. going into their inbox and saying “____’s reaction of this.” is no way to request something. saying please, thank you, or even “hey, could you do a reaction of _____?” is a thousand times better than just telling them what you want them to write.
writers spend hours of their time and energy to write things for you to read, and leaving an empty like is meaningless to them.
if your liked a writer’s works, reblog them and maybe add some nice fucking tags while you’re at or send an ask to them about it. because sooner or later, after so many likes and barely any interaction, more and more writers are going to leave.
stop making them desperate for any spare crumb of interaction and start leaving feedback if you love these writers so much.
I haven't gotten a reblog in FOREVER. I'd kill for anything like this person's numbers. But it's just about the facts, not even the numbers. Glad my fics are still here for you to read. Glad I started on tumblr. Glad for all the interactions I had then. But that was, like, five years ago. No one comments or reblogs or talks to me here, so I'm in return just not here 🤷♀️
This is all very silly :p I hope you like it! Hobi and JK are very cute in this chapter, I think!
Warning: Blood! Some bad words. Mention of sex (sucking/jerking off)
AO3 masterlist
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: GoldenCloset
Chapter 3: Bloody Love
Every love story had to start somewhere.
Preferably, at the beginning.
A look. A whispered word. A special touch. Even a silly joke.
Hoseok had perhaps grown up watching too many romantic movies cuddled up next to his mom, but he would know love when he saw it.
And one night it had been standing right in front of him.
Seeing Park Jimin lean out of his window shirtless and glorious had been the start of Hoseok’s crush. But last Halloween had been when he had fallen in love.
He still hadn’t worked up enough courage to meet the guy, so longing looks up at his window while he did tours had been all Hoseok had managed. So when Jimin’s fraternity house was throwing a Halloween party, Hoseok knew that had to be the best opportunity he was going to get to finally meet Jimin.
He had gone dressed as a vampire. Frilly shirt, velvet cape, tight pants, fake teeth.
If asked where his interest—Hoseok knew he had to stay healthy and not call it an obsession—started, Hoseok never really could say. He had pictures of himself dressed up as one, the fake fangs filling in where he had recently lost a tooth and loved to grin with his whole face to show off the gap. His dad, a college literature professor, had obviously been at least a slight influence. And movies, sure. The glamorization of the mythical creatures as monsters and yet so sexy no one ever seemed to mind was too appealing to pass up. He wasn’t sure if it was the power they exuded that gave off that energy or if it was the leather pants they always seemed to wear.
It was probably the leather pants.
But everyone had a hobby, and Hoseok’s was reading and watching anything he could about vampires.
Besides, he couldn’t go to a fraternity literally named after Dracula’s author and not go dressed as a vampire!
He only felt slightly silly when he showed up and no one else was dressed up. Way too old to get embarrassed about what other people thought and way too trained now in knowing how to work any outfit to his advantage, he only faltered at the door for a second. He had tried to convince Chaewon and Lucy to come with him, but the two fashion majors had insisted they had no place at a frat party.
“There will be girls!”
“Yeah, and all of them will be ogled at and in some weird competition to see who can beat the other one into some boy’s room,” Lucy had said with a roll of her eyes.
“That would be me,” Chaewon had giggled before her friend pulled her away with only one more comment over her shoulder.
“Besides, like I’d set foot in Wordsworth house. They’d probably all try to kidnap me.”
“That’s just one theory,” Hoseok had grumbled before letting them go, since it was mostly his fault for telling her all about how she shared a name with Wordsworth famous heroine.
“Not famous, and she doesn’t sound like any hero to me,” Lucy had scoffed.
Hoseok wasn’t sure if he was glad or extra disappointed that his friends hadn’t come, though, since once he showed up there wasn’t a girl in sight. In fact, while he hadn’t been to too many frat parties—freshman year he admits to going all out and getting the full college experience, and he had drunk enough alcohol to last his life by the age of nineteen—he knew this one was small. Almost dead, even.
While he knew it was Halloween, he still screeched when an animatronic reached out from under the porch as he scaled the stairs to grab at his ankle. The two hanging bats were super lifelike, too, and fluttered their wings enough for him to duck under them and shake as he knocked on the door, his eyes scanning all around for other jump scares.
“Is someone at the door?” he heard from within.
“Why the fuck are they knocking?” a gruff voice said.
“Maybe it’s Tae—get the blood ready!” Only half regretting his decision to come and three-fourths regretting coming alone, Hoseok stood up straight and adjusted his cape in his best attempt to look cool as the door swung open.
“Oh, look,” a tall and, frankly, gorgeous man with a face that might have been covered in glitter said, “a present.”
“It’s not Tae,” the shorter boy beside him said with skin as pale as the moon before slinking off. He was holding a giant metal bucket, and while Hoseok couldn’t quite see inside, he had a suspicion it was the “blood” they had talked about behind the closed door.
“Why, hello there,” the tall boy said again as he leaned on the doorway, “who might you be?”
“Oh, I uh, I heard there was a party?”
“Oh,” the guy said, his face lighting up even more. “Is there?”
“Uh, is there?” Hoseok echoed back, a little confused now.
“Do you have an invitation?”
“Oh, uh, they all got taken down,” Hoseok said.
“Taken down?”
“The big sign—in the dining hall. It said, ‘Come if you like to suck.’ I think, uh, I think campus security thought it was inappropriate.”
“Oh, that does sound suggestive,” the guy laughed before yelling over his shoulder. “Everyone, we’re having a party! Make sure to thank Tae later!”
“What?” someone yelled back. “People are coming over?”
“Yes, people,” the boy at the door called back before turning back to Hoseok and sticking his hand out. “I’m Seokjin, president of Stoker. Welcome to our party!”
“Thanks?” Hoseok said before glancing over his shoulder. Jolting, his eyes exploded as he looked back at Seokjin. “Wait, where did the bats go?”
“Bats?” Seokjin poked his head out the door and then half his body as he looked at the now-empty porch.
“There was—you have a machine under the porch that grabbed me. It’s—they’re not decorations?”
“Oh, goodness,” Seokjin laughed again, something slightly terrifying about it that made Hoseok swallow. “That would be our lovely neighbors. They’re just big pranksters. Doesn’t sound very scary, though.”
“Right,” Hoseok said slowly.
“Well, come in, come in, let me finish the food! What are we having?”
“Uh, no idea,” Hoseok said as he came in.
“Everyone, party time!” The whole house seemed to groan, so Hoseok felt extremely awkward as doors started to open.
“Forcing us to have a party,” the pale boy grumbled from the couch as he sat with the metal bucket in his lap and shook his head. “That’s truly diabolical. He’s really outdone himself this year.”
“Text Vlad, tell him we need drinks.”
“What, Sprite?” the other guy scoffed.
“I love Sprite,” Hoseok said before pressing his lips together and clearing his throat. “Can I, uh, help with anything?”
“Oh, no, you’re our guest! Let us know what we can get you! Yoongi, music?”
“Only if no one complains about what I play,” the pale boy, Yoongi, said as he got up with a groan. Hoseok nodded his head to all the boys who came into the living room, but his mind was elsewhere as Seokjin introduced them.
“Is—that everyone in your frat?” he said once the two boys, D’Arcy, who started to help Yoongi set up music, and Zane, who started to help Seokjin in the kitchen, were introduced.
“Oh?” Hoseok said, his palms suddenly sweating as he swallowed. “He’s, uh, busy?”
“Studying. Always studying. He’s a nursing major,” Seokjin said.
“Oh!” Hoseok gobbled the fact up. He knew his name now. And his major. And where he lived.
“Don’t you have any friends? Why’d you come alone? If it’s a party, let’s party,” Seokjin said.
“Oh, they were afraid there’d be too many guys.”
“They’re girls?” Zane said as his head snapped up only to bow back down to the plate he was making as soon as Seokjin slapped the back of it.
“Down, boy. Invite them! I promise I won’t let Zane bite anyone.”
“It’s Jimin I’d worry about,” Yoongi mumbled, and Hoseok felt his heart plummet. Because of course. He had just thought—he wasn’t sure what he thought. Jimin had waved to him. Had smiled at him. It hadn’t meant anything. Of course such a pretty boy would like pretty girls. Hoseok understood. He liked girls, too. Remembering that made his heart rise again. Maybe Jimin was like him. Maybe there was hope still.
“Invite them, invite them!” Seokjin told Hoseok as he pulled out his own phone. “I’ll see what’s taking everyone else so long. Really, it’s fashionable to be late, but it’s rude to just not show up. Everyone, invite your friends.”
“I don’t have any,” three voices echoed back.
“Please, why did you make it sound like that’s my fault?” Seokjin said before shooing his brothers away. “Come on, come on, dance, party, eat and be merry.” Hoseok wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t standing with a glass wine filled with grape juice by an emptyfire place while four other guys sat in the quiet living room while some music played.
“Really, this won’t do,” Seokjin said after one song. “Yoongi, dance with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Guest, dance with me.”
“Hoseok,” Hoseok said as he shook his head. “But that’s okay.”
“Come on, you came to party! Unless you’re into other stuff,” Seokjin hummed for a second, and Hoseok’s heart skipped a beat as he looked at everyone in the room, wondering what the guy could possibly mean. “We have board games!”
“No,” Zane groaned as he whipped out his phone. “I’m telling Vlad to hurry.”
“You know, if you have to rely on alcohol to have fun, you’re a boring person,” Seokjin huffed. “Let’s play charades!” The collective groan was quiet this time, but soon the apprehension lifted. They randomized teams since they had an odd number and soon Hoseok found himself rising to match the energy level that Seokjin brought no matter what team he was on. Hoseok had been on Yoongi’s team twice already and beaten Seokjin’s team when Seokjin threw up his hands and shouted,
“You’re cheating somehow!”
“I just get him,” Yoongi shrugged.
“How could you get that?” Seokjin said as he mirrored what Hoseok had pantomimed.
“Maybe if you read more often,” Yoongi shrugged again.
“Certain Dark Things? What even is that? How did you get that?” Seokjin sounded exasperated, but Hoseok couldn’t help grinning still. He hadn’t expected Yoongi to know the book, but they were just going through books with vampires in them, and Yoongi seemed to be as well-versed as Hoseok was. They were in the middle of another round, this time of movies—Yoongi and Hoseok separated to “be fair”—and Hoseok was pointing at Seokjin’s face over and over again and then making fangs with his teeth because, hello, glittering vampire equaled Twilight so obviously, but Seokjin kept shouting out action flick films when the door opened. Not really desperate for a drink, Hoseok trooped over with the boys to meet Vlad, a huge, quiet guy who looked him up and down more than twice before seeming to give him an approval.
Hoseok wasn’t sure what he expected. Vodka and beer and whatever it was college boys drank.
“Dibs,” D’Arcy said as soon as a red drink appeared.
“I believe you ordered Sprite,” Yoongi said as he pulled a liter out of the plastic. Nodding, Hoseok twisted the cap slowly as he watched more sodas came out.
“Oh, Yoongi, we’ve been so rude,” Seokjin said over the rustle. “You should give our guest a tour! I’ll finish making drinks.” Holding onto his Sprite, Hoseok followed Yoongi. The guy shuffled slowly, like he was exhausted. That wasn’t too surprising. He looked a little like a ghost, and that was how a lot of college students looked. If looking good wasn’t literally part of Hoseok’s job, he would probably stay up late and eat greasy hamburgers more. He was swamped in a hoodie, too, which was the garb of ninety-precent of the campus population.
His face was really like no one else’s, though, and while Hoseok opened and closed his Sprite nervously, he also felt a calm around the guy he couldn’t quite explain. Even though Hoseok had seen him perk up as they played charades, he was clearly a guy with a chill aura. Maybe that’s what it was—Hoseok wanted to be chill around him because that would be cool.
The Stoker house was certainly old, but unlike the image Hoseok had of frat houses in his head—days of dirty laundry piled in corners with dried socks and underwear with absolutely no starch in them, sinks full of dirty dishes complete with flies and ants in sticky traps, overflowing trashcans with beer bottles and used condoms—the place was clearly cared for. The paint looked new and wasn’t chipping at all. The baseboards didn’t have a layer of dust on them. The wood floor looked like it was recently waxed. Even the bedrooms that Yoongi showed him were clean. Unmade beds, sure, but it wasn’t a stock photo. Evidence of studying, sure, but overall, the place looked organized.
“The younger guys are downstairs,” Yoongi explained before they went up the stairs. The wood creaked a little, which might have been scary if Hoseok was alone or the lights were off, but he felt his heart start to beat faster, anyway. He held his breath at each door, but Yoongi showed him his room and Seokjin’s on the same side of the house first.
Yoongi’s room was—not at all what Hoseok expected, though he wasn’t sure what he was expecting in the first place. A large bed with an extremely fluffy looking gray comforter sat in the middle of the room with a giant canopy hanging from the ceiling. Its black curtains shrouding the bed reminded Hoseok of a pall over a coffin for some reason, though the room was actually quite light. The window had a blackout curtain that was currently drawn, but an elaborate chandelier fit for an art museum hung in the center of the room. The walls were all black except for the one his desk was facing; it was covered in white wood with shelves at various levels. There was a tiny hammock not big enough for a person in the corner by the window and an impressive white desk neatly organized with a sketch pad on one end and a large computer with speakers and other devices Hoseok didn’t recognize on the other. There were no pictures or artwork hanging anywhere, so the room didn’t seem to have much personality, but it was impressive. Cool, just like Yoongi.
“I’m an architect major,” Yoongi mumbled as he shut the door again. “And music.”
“Oh, wow, that’s super cool! What a strange mix. Do you want to, like, design music studios?”
“Oh, uh,” Yoongi said as he pushed Seokjin’s door open. “Never really thought about it.”
“Oh,” Hoseok blinked, not wanting to say “That’s odd” since that would be rude. He had to blink again at Seokjin’s room, anyway, which wasn’t necessarily messy but was a huge contrast to Yoongi’s room. Not that colors had genders, fuck that, but Hoseok had never seen so much pink in a guy’s room. He wasn’t even sure what to look at first.
There was a large unicorn head stuck to the wall that Hoseok almost thought was stuffed for a second before he remembered the mythical creatures were just that and not real at all. Its huge horn had various bags and ties and scarves hanging off of it. His desk was a beautiful mahogany wood desk that looked like it belonged in a king’s room, and the chair matched it. The mixing of décor is maybe why Yoongi groaned.
“This guy—looks like five different people live in here. He’s hopeless.” Grinning, Hoseok noticed several plushies on the bed and a gaming console on Seokjin’s nightstand. There was a poorly drawn picture of someone whose face had been badly marred multiple times hanging on one wall. The darts still sticking into the poor person’s cheeks and forehead were the clear cause of the rips and holes. Oddly enough, next to it was a much better drawing. It was so good, in fact, that Hoseok could tell it was Seokjin. He was leaning forward on a stool, one hand between his legs and the other on his thigh, staring straight forward. He just had on blue jeans, but the large scoop neck of his white shirt was showing off his collarbones exceedingly well. Whoever drawn it had done a fantastic job. Hoseok half expected to see the guy’s eyes smoldering at him, but there was a playful smile on his face instead. Still, Hoseok felt himself swallow nothing.
The guy who had greeted him at the door was certainly something. Cool, but in a much different way than Yoongi was. They both probably didn’t give a fuck what other people thought of them, and for that, they were intimidating in a way. Seokjin’s room was just proof the guy wasn’t trying to please anyone or fit into any sort of mold. Hoseok had to admire him for that.
“Jimin’s down here. He faces the street.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hoseok said, his heart slapping his mouth as Yoongi looked up at him. “Shit, sorry, that sounded so rude, no, like, I mean, he’s the last one, and there’s a window out front, so it must be. Sorry.”
“All good,” Yoongi shrugged before opening the door without even knocking.
Hoseok gasped.
His mother had raised him to always knock. That’s why.
It had nothing to do with the shirtless glory he caught a glimpse of.
Hoseok had never had brothers or roommates, so he supposed it was normal for Yoongi to just walk into Jimin’s room, especially as the guy didn’t yell or seem to react much at all. Still, he paused as the door swung open, the shirt he was putting on simply stuck on his arms for a moment as he raised an eyebrow at them.
“Hey,” Yoongi said with a hand raised. “Done studying?”
“Yes,” Jimin said slowly as his eyes started to look Hoseok up and down as he pulled on his sleeves. Hoseok froze a little like a deer in headlights. He wasn’t even sure why. He knew why. His heart was pounding. He had forgotten how to breathe. Park Jimin was so fucking beautiful, Hoseok didn’t even notice the guy’s room. Who cared?
Jimin had on leather pants.
“Who have you brought into my room without even asking, Yoongi?” Jimin asked. There was a slight mirth to his voice. A little teasing. He wasn’t angry. Intrigued. Curious. He was interested in Hoseok!
“Jung,” Hoseok said as he threw a hand out before whipping it back and blinking, wondering if he should bow or get on his knees or turn around and never be perceived again.
“Uh huh,” Jimin nodded slowly as he started to button his shirt up. His lips started to curve as Hoseok watched his chest disappear. “Yoongi?”
“He’s here for the party.”
“The party?” Jimin repeated again. His voice was nothing like Hoseok thought it would be. But it was perfect. Not too low and not too high. Sweet and yet so sexy, Hoseok kept trying to swallow. For all the books he had read, for all the stories he knew, for all the papers he had written, he wasn’t sure how to describe what Park Jimin’s voice sounded like.
“Music,” he’d sigh stupidly later, probably. “Magic,” he’d dream of it later with a dopey look in his eye. He didn’t really care, though. Maybe he wasn’t as cool as Yoongi or Seokjin was, but he had learned long ago to stop being ashamed of what he liked. And he liked Jimin’s voice. The guy had on these dangling earrings that danced in the light coming through the guy’s window. There was a desk against the wall covered in books and paper. A mess of a bed in the corner. Clothes lying around everywhere like he hadn’t been sure what to wear.
“Which party is ‘the’ party tonight?”
“Ours, apparently,” Yoongi shrugged.
“We’re not throwing a party,” Jimin said, his eyebrow quirking again as Hoseok swallowed as the last button was finished. Jimin undid it right away, though, and reached into a pile to pull something else out. Leather, too; a corset that wrapped around his waist and had Hoseok’s lungs feeling constricted as Jimin started to lace it together.
“We are, and you’re going to invite people you know.”
“Why would I do that? We never have parties,” Jimin scoffed slightly. “It’s Halloween. I’m going out.”
“Please stay,” Yoongi said, the slightest bit of whine in his voice. “Tae put up signs about us throwing a party. A costume party.”
“Oh, that explains the—what are you?”
“Jung Hoseok,” Hoseok said as he snapped his eyes away from Jimin’s fingers and to his face.
“Right,” Jimin smiled. “What are you dressed up as?”
“Oh! A vampire!”
“Right,” Jimin said again as he looked him over all while lacing his corset up without even looking. Why that was so hot, Hoseok wasn’t sure, but he had him swallowing again as Yoongi sighed beside him.
“Come down, Jin’s making drinks. For us,” Yoongi said as he patted the doorframe.
“It’s Friday, Yoongi. I’m going out.”
“But tonight you can stay in. The fun will come to you.”
“Sure,” Jimin said before looking Hoseok up and down again. Hoseok felt like he was in one of those scanners at the airport, and he stayed positively still every time Jimin looked over at him, a loud breath escaping his lungs the second Jimin looked away over to his friend. “You’re sure he’s not part of Tae’s plan?”
“Who, Hoseok here? He played charades with us, Jimin. He’s cool.”
“Charades. God, no, I am not staying here and playing charades. What are we, twelve? And a costume party?”
“You don’t have to dress up.”
“Though you make a great vampire,” Hoseok said as he waved a finger at Jimin’s outfit, his white shirt billowing out of the corset Jimin pulled tight to close as his eyebrows rose a little. “Or, uh. Pirate? Thief? Dancer?”
“I’m not wearing a costume,” Jimin said.
“Unless all clothes are but costumes we wear, just like the masks we put on every day—” Yoongi started, a soft chuckle leaving him when Jimin glared at him.
“Have you been in your whiskey that much already?”
“Please, we’re drinking soda,” Yoongi scoffed. “I’ll shut up if you promise to stay.”
“You know such manipulation never works on me, and, no, you can’t promise I will have fun,” Jimin raised a finger as Yoongi opened his mouth again, but Yoongi shut it again with a grin. His eyes glanced at Hoseok again, and the guy didn’t have piercing eyes. They weren’t sharp or scary at all, actually. They looked super pretty and had a soft wave shape. But the second they narrowed, Hoseok still felt intimidated. He had felt his heart race so many times since he came through the front door already. He felt a little lame to admit it was just because he hadn’t been to a party in a long time. So maybe it was something else.
“Do my chores next week,” Jimin said to Yoongi after he seemed to make up his mind.
“Hell no. Make Jin. I could care less if we had a stupid party. But you know now all he’s gonna care about is having a good time just to make Tae’s plan fail. We just have to help him make that happen, and you’re the one with friends.”
“Who I don’t invite over for a reason,” Jimin said with narrow eyes again.
“Don’t worry,” Yoongi said. “And once it gets going, no one will notice if you slip off. Come on. It’s just one night.”
“I’m hungry, Yoongi,” Jimin said.
“Jin’s cooking,” Yoongi shrugged, the two looking at each other for another second before Yoongi turned to shuffle down the stairs. Alone suddenly with Jimin, Hoseok desperately wished to be cool, but he felt his back straighten as Jimin looked him over again.
“A vampire,” the guy huffed as he shook his head. “Why are you dressed up as a vampire?”
“Oh,” Hoseok said as he had the pleasure of watching Jimin put on his shoes—leather, too, with sharp laces and an even sharper point. “Well, I love vampires.”
“You do, huh? Why’s that?” Very used to people making fun of him for his interests, Hoseok wasn’t sure if Jimin was curious or just waiting for an opportunity to call him a weirdo, but no matter how long Hoseok had looked up toward the guy’s window hoping to catch a glimpse of him, he had been confidant in himself even longer. If Park Jimin ended up being an asshole, Hoseok would pine for him until he got over it, and life would go on. He would find someone someday who understood or at least tolerated his interests.
“Well, there’s the typical of them just being super sexy,” Hoseok said after clearing his throat a little, his saliva getting caught as Jimin looked up at him. “Though, well, okay, so, most stories pitch vampires at the bad guys, right? They’re monsters. But the thing is, most narratives only make them a bad guy because people want to relate to the hero they read about. So the human ends up being the good guy even if they’re actually a villain. The vampire, as an other, becomes the monster simply because they’re different. Sure, some are really bad. They go around killing people or, uh, kidnapping children. That’s not cool. That’s—gross. I’m not into that.”
“What a relief,” Jimin said, his voice sounding amused as he stood up and tapped each of his feet once against his floor before putting his hands on his hips as he cocked them a little. “So, what, you’re into roleplay? Have a blood kink?”
“Huh?”
“You said vampires are sexy. They don’t really exist, so you must just mean the idea of them. You’re into biting or something.”
“I’m—” Hoseok said, his face flushing.
“Oh, no judgment here,” Jimin said with a small smile. “Whatever gets you off, sweetie. Just curious about your interest in vampires.” Hoseok blinked before his mouth dropped open.
“Really?”
“Really, what?”
“You’re interested in my interest?”
“I’m interested in vampires, too,” Jimin shrugged.
“You are?” Hoseok breathed, pretty sure his eyes had just turned into hearts like they did in the cartoons. His heart might be bursting out of his chest, too, in the fake shape everyone drew hearts as while they spoke.
“Don’t piss yourself,” Jimin giggled as he pulled his door shut behind him. “What are you drinking?”
“Sprite,” Hoseok said, still trying to process what Jimin had said.
“Sprite?” Jimin laughed, a twinkle like fairy wings tickling Hoseok’s ears. “That’s cute. You didn’t let Jin make you one?”
“Oh, uh, no, should I?”
“Probably not,” Jimin said with a wink that had Hoseok’s heart fluttering. “Not everyone likes them. Come on, let’s go get this party started.”
“S-sure,” Hoseok said, his whole body swiveling to follow as Jimin went down the steps.
So there Jung Hoseok found himself, standing in front of Park Jimin, a Sprite in his hand and some concoction from Seokjin in Jimin’s, halfway leaning on the fireplace and halfway just hoping something kept him from leaving Earth’s gravity while he explained everything he knew and liked about vampires at a frat party that slowly started to look like what it was claiming to be.
And falling a little bit in love each time Jimin nodded or looked at him remotely or sipped on his drink or licked his lips or leaned in to hear him better or hummed like a cat purring that set the hair on Hoseok’s arm to attention.
“So, wait,” Jimin said after his third drink. His cheeks had started to gather that flush Hoseok knew well. While he was always DD even when they didn’t drive—sometimes that simply meant steering bodies—he knew how to tell when someone was drunk. But Jimin didn’t have the familiar staggering swaying of a normal drunk, especially not like Chaewon who seemed to always lose a shoe or break a heel the second she started to stumble. Jimin had slipped away through the growing crowd—where everyone came from, Hoseok wasn’t sure and didn’t really care—a few times with a touch and a promise to come right back, and Hoseok had watched him under the light of the kitchen pouring himself a drink each time, wondering at how Jimin moved as fluid as the liquid he was pouring. He would come back each time and ask Hoseok if he was positive he didn’t want anything else to drink, and Hoseok would lift his now-empty glass of Sprite and assure him he was good.
He was pretty sure he was dreaming, anyway.
Any flushing his cheeks were doing had nothing to do with alcohol, that much he was sure of.
“So you’re saying,” Jimin continued as he leaned in a little. D’Arcy, who Hoseok wasn’t sure if had added the D to his name because he wanted to be a DJ or if he his parents had literally named him that, had taken over the music and had cranked it up. Someone had produced glow sticks, and Seokjin was flailing on top of the dining room table like a crazed traffic controller on a hazy runway strip, and Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing every time he looked over at the guy. He was slightly concerned Seokjin was going to get a headache or fall right off and hurt himself, but Jimin assured him he’d be fine.
Yoongi was playing bouncer, or something, that bucket of fake blood in his arm again as he stood by the front door that was currently open. Some people had already come and gone, but some were trying to become permanent fixtures along the wall or on the couch or by the liquor that had slowly gathered on the kitchen island. Nothing had broken yet, and everyone seemed to know that kind of party foul wouldn’t be tolerated in the old Stoker house. Maybe if Seokjin did the breaking, but no one else could.
Even with all the activity going on, Hoseok wasn’t having a hard time concentrating. He couldn’t look away from Jimin, really. He willed his body to stay still every time Jimin had left, the,
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” rooting him even as he craned his neck to watch Jimin in the crowd. He was pretty short.
“What you’re saying is you really think vampires are real.”
“I think they could be real,” Hoseok said, resisting the urge to lean closer to Jimin, too. “So there’s the Polidori’s theory—that his story wasn’t actually fiction. The theory carries over to Le Fanu and even Stoker—they weren’t writing about vampires that we might think of today with fangs who transform into bats but purely rich sickos who metaphorically drain the life of people. Whether that’s sexual or not is up for debate. But the theory encourages the idea of reading all vampire literature, at least the first ones during the 1800’s and such, as twisted fact more than fiction. Real people who acted like monsters.”
“You’re such a fucking dork,” Jimin grinned. He had said that multiple times already, and Hoseok never felt the sting of an insult when he did. In fact, Jimin leaned in a little more each time he said that. “Why give them fangs and stuff, then?”
“Well, so then there’s the Serbian theory. Again, two normal humans who killed people, possibly with their own teeth. Mauling, blood drinking, all that good stuff. It’s older than Polidori’s theory, actually. Well, thought of later than, but, like, they lived in the 1700’s. This theory is more the monster theory—that people, unable to comprehend other human beings are capable of such violence, ascribe ‘monstrous’ traits to anyone who acts inhumanely. Think of Beaumont’s ‘Le Belle et La Bete.’”
“Okay,” Jimin said before grinning wider. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Oh. Beauty and the Beast. The original story,” Hoseok said.
“Oh, okay, right, right—what about it?”
“The beast—well, there’s no description of him being furry or anything like a lion or whatever the movies make him into. Anyone at the time that didn’t look like ‘normal’ humans—” Hoseok made his quotation marks so huge his hand bumped into his empty glass on the fireplace’s mantel. “—was considered a beast. Hunchbacks, for instance. Shunned from society. Anyone with a birth defect. Outcasts. So vampires, if you follow the Serbian theory, might just be that. Humans who were a bit paler than other people and who people needed a reason to blame for something.”
“Okay, I can see that. Look at the freak, let’s blame them for our problems,” Jimin said as he cocked his hip and drummed his fingers against his glass. He had on three rings on three different fingers, and they clinked every time he did. “You are seriously a huge vampire nerd.”
“Yep,” Hoseok said, not a single apology on his lip as he smiled. “I like the Wordsworth theory, too, that Lucy Gray is kidnapped by a creep. Such an old dude obsessed with little girls. But we call him a vampire, because we need a villain. A monster to blame. Plus, I mean, the lack of footprints in the snow is super weird.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Jimin grinned, “but it sounds like all your theories still make vampires the bad guys. Is there any hope for us?”
“I mean, we don’t have to believe the theories. But I don’t think they really point to vampires being the bad guys. I mean, if you kidnap a little girl or rip people’s throats out with your teeth, yeah, you’re a bad guy. But the theories prove to me more that society is often the bad guy. We turn people into villains just because we’re prejudice or racist or simply because we’re afraid. Maybe vampires are just creatures who happen to need blood to survive,” Hoseok shrugged.
“Maybe,” Jimin hummed, his eyes still stuck on Hoseok’s as he sipped his drink. Hoseok was used to being looked at. It was literally part of his job. There was just usually a camera doing the looking, and it was never quite as intense as the curve of Jimin’s eyelashes. “So, long story short, do you think vampires are real?”
“Oh, yeah,” Hoseok beamed, the rise of Jimin’s eyebrow making Hoseok rub his hands together for a second. “I mean, look, I want to believe. I know I sound like some conspiracy theorist to most people. I know I sound crazy. But just think—if they were real, do you think they would tell people? Like you said, they’re always the bad guy in the stories. Coming out and going, ‘hey, I’m a vampire!’ Damn. Splat. Spike. You’d be killed immediately. I mean, maybe no one would believe you. They’d think you’re crazy or just into some weird shit. But it would only take one, you know?”
“Yeah,” Jimin said slowly. He dropped down to put his drink on the edge of the fireplace, and Hoseok saw his shiny shoes step closer to Hoseok’s as Jimin stood back up. “People would definitely lose their shit if they found out vampires were real. Everyone except you would, I guess. You’d just be—”
“I’d be so fucking excited. That’d be the coolest thing ever,” Hoseok beamed.
“Even if that meant—” Jimin wasn’t yelling over the music, but Hoseok heard him loud and clear as he stepped even closer. “—they might want to bite you?”
“O-oh,” Hoseok blinked, knowing full damn well his face blushed faster than if he had drunk half a bottle of vodka as a shot. The low lighting did nothing to hide it from Jimin, either, whose smile wasn’t soft and cute but slightly cruel. A smirk that had Hoseok’s gut feeling heavy. But they had been talking for well over an hour, and Hoseok knew Jimin wasn’t making fun of him. He hadn’t judged him. He had really just listened. He had asked good questions. He was genuinely interested.
“Let’s say, hypothetically,” Jimin reached one of his hands toward Hoseok, who was frozen, and played with the long string of the velvet cape hanging loosely on Hoseok’s shoulders. “That vampires were real, and they did bite people. Would you want to get bitten?”
“Well, it depends.”
“On?” Jimin’s eyebrows lifted again—he couldn’t seem to only lift one, so they both went up together, and Hoseok wasn’t sure if that was the fucking cutest thing about the guy or if it was his tiny fingers that were almost touching his chest or the little tooth slightly crooked in his mouth or the slope of his nose or the—
“Well, there are three options,” Hoseok cleared his throat.
“Oh, you’ve thought about this.”
“Yeah, totally. So, there’s someone bites me to kill me. Not a fan. I’m not really looking to die, so, if that’s the only option, no thanks. Second is to be turned into a vampire. Which—like, I love vampires. Being one sounds super cool. If they can really turn into a bat—flying around would be super fun. But mostly it just sounds like a sad life, so I don’t want to be one.”
“Why sad?”
“Wouldn’t it be lonely? Not being able to tell people who you are?” Hoseok asked. Jimin blinked twice, his eyelashes truly the epitome of “fluttering lashes” that made Hoseok’s heart beat along with them, before his smile changed into something Hoseok hadn’t seen yet. “Plus, like, if they do live forever, that sounds super boring. Maybe it’d be fun for a few years, but then what? Plus, watching people die one after another. That’s sad. So, I don’t know—if they were biting me to turn me into a vampire, it would depend on what vampire life is like.”
“If it’s just to feed?” Jimin’s fingers went from toying with the edge of the cape’s tie to tracing the edges of the frills on Hoseok’s shirt. He might as well have been running his fingers over Hoseok’s naked chest with the way goosebumps started to break out all over Hoseok’s arms.
“That, uh—” Hoseok blinked. Cleared his throat. Licked his lips. He wasn’t sure where the lines between fiction and reality were anymore, but Jimin seemed like someone who understood. Like someone who cared. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d let them. Him. I’d—love to get bitten.”
“Really?” Jimin hummed, his fingers splaying across Hoseok’s chest. There was a strange sensation that coursed through Hoseok’s whole body immediately. Horniness. Lust. He was incredibly horny. That’s what it was. He clenched his fists to avoid grabbing Jimin. He took a deep breath that probably sounded like someone after they coughed up gallons of water, a hurgle gurgle that had him almost choking, but he had to do everything in his power to not pop a boner right there in that living room.
“Even if it hurts?” Jimin said up to him, his fingers trailing to Hoseok’s waist as his body was suddenly only an inch away.
“Well, I’m, uh, not super into pain, so I know it probably would hurt,” Hoseok rattled on as Jimin’s other hand found the edge of his pants on his other hip. “But I bet vampires have, like, that stuff that snakes do. Numbs the pain.”
“Isn’t the point to feel it, though? You, what, want an anesthetic? Just go limp?”
“No, no, that’d be boring,” Hoseok swallowed as Jimin’s knees bumped into him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Seokjin wasn’t flailing anymore, and he saw Yoongi glance over at him. And in that moment—Hoseok knew what was going to happen next. He had a fleeting thought that he hoped Jimin’s housemates wouldn’t tease him too much after while knowing the whole time they definitely would. Hoseok felt his whole body burn for a second before he felt the cool touch of Jimin’s rings on his neck and the chill tickle of his breath into his ear.
“I can bite you, if you want,” Jimin said, the thrill of his smile sending a shiver down Hoseok’s spine. “Come to my room.”
It was just a fantasy, but it was Hoseok’s biggest one. The ultimate dream. To find someone so easily and so quickly, and someone he was already into, be so down to do that for him—he groaned. He whimpered. He almost came in his pants. He wasn’t drunk at all, but he stumbled as Jimin pulled away. He felt intensely cold for some reason even if he had a dab of sweat on the small of his back.
But there was no way he wasn’t going to follow Jimin. He twisted through the crowd Jimin had floated through and stumbled up the stairs Jimin’s feet had barely even touched. He took the corner and shuffled into the bedroom where the window he had looked up into so many times already was open. The moon was peeking in along with some stars, but the street below was empty. The door shut with a click that might as well have been a bang, and Jimin’s fingers were unlacing his corset already.
“We’re just going to make out,” he said, and Hoseok nodded as he watched. “We’re just going to make out. Understand? Repeat what I said.”
“We’re just going to make out,” Hoseok swallowed, the words tumbling out so easily. He didn’t care if that’s all they did. He didn’t care if they didn’t even do that. He was leaning against the door just watching. He was getting to watch.
“Take off your shirt,” Jimin said as he finished unlacing his corset. “Cape first.” Nodding, Hoseok tugged at the strings and heard the cape drop first before pulling off his shirt quickly. He didn’t question it at all. Skin to skin while making out with Jimin’s crooked little tooth against his neck—Hoseok cleared his throat as he felt his chest flush as Jimin pulled his own shirt off much slower.
“I might—sorry if I—shit. You’re so cute.”
“Cute?” Jimin said, his grin just that as Hoseok saw his chest again. “No, no. Sexy.”
“Cute, sexy, lovely,” Hoseok rattled as he counted Jimin’s abs and marveled at how soft he somehow still looked. Hard edged and flowing. These contrasts that made no sense but worked so perfectly on the boy’s body.
“Whatever,” Jimin laughed delightfully before pointing toward his desk. “Sit down.” Nodding enthusiastically, Hoseok did as he was told, the chill of the night cooling his spine and making the hair on the back of his neck rise. He put out his arms as Jimin glided over and sat down on his lap without another word. His fingers felt so tiny and yet all encompassing as Jimin grabbed Hoseok’s neck. Hoseok couldn’t stop looking at his eyes. There must be pearls in them. Stars. Diamonds.
“We’re just going to make out,” Jimin said again. “And you can tell anyone you want about it, if you want. That’s what you can tell them. That we made out, and then you left the party perfectly happy. Got it?”
“No, let’s keep that between ourselves,” Jimin grinned, something in the gleam of his eyes and teeth making Hoseok shiver. “So. That’s what we’ll do. If you’re sure you want me to.”
“Yeah,” Hoseok nodded. “Thanks, by the way.”
“You’re the one who’s cute,” Jimin laughed softly as his thumb rubbed along the tendon in Hoseok’s neck. “Can’t believe my luck. You just walked in the door—”
Luck had nothing to do with it, in Hoseok’s opinion. He couldn’t say what did, though. He did know he was the luckiest guy in the world, or that night, at least, to have Park Jimin sit in his lap. Hold his neck. Kiss him slowly.
It maybe wasn’t the best place to start. Right there on his neck. Only because it sent Hoseok’s head into a tailspin. He gripped Jimin’s sides tightly and struggled to remember to breathe all while trying not to think of what was in his pants. Besides his legs. He had to walk out on those later, so he did need to remember how to use them.
But Jimin was soft—plush lips, wet tongue, warm breath. Smooth skin, caressing fingertips, tickling whispers. And Jimin was hard—or maybe that was Hoseok. But no—sharp nails, tight grip, piercing teeth.
They made out.
Hoseok had no idea for how long.
He didn’t care.
The cool breeze of Halloween kept the hairs on the back of his head raised all while his chest heaved against Jimin’s. He knew when they started, but he wasn’t sure when they ended. He knew he wasn’t drunk, so he didn’t wake up the next day with a headache. A little sore on his neck, but Jimin hadn’t even left a bruise. They had just made out. But for Hoseok, that was the start of more than just his crush on Park Jimin. And that wasn’t something set to end any time soon. That story had only just begun.
GoldenCloset hadn’t posted for three days.
For the three hundredth time since he had watched the boy behind the screen walk into Namjoon’s house, Yoongi clicked the refresh button on the Youtube page. Still nothing. It was four in the morning. Of course there would be nothing. For the three hundredth time, Yoongi looked through the sliver of his pulled curtains toward Namjoon’s window, knowing the guy was alone in his room. Of course he would be. It was four in the morning. And it was Namjoon, for fuck’s sake.
Sighing, for the three hundredth time, Yoongi stretched out his back and arms and wiggled his toes before curling up again like the shrimp he would one day transform into, his fingernails tapping on his desk and then mouse. He glanced at the Youtube page one more time before pushing play on a random video.
It was a good one. Yoongi remembered it immediately because it started with a giggle. Then a clatter.
“My roommate’s girlfriend said I could have her old makeup supplies. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I have my own brushes,” Goldencloset—Jungkook. Yoongi knew his name now, and Yoongi bit his lip as he watched the boy sitting down in front of a vanity mirror. He obviously had known the guy was Korean—he slipped out these soft curse words sometimes under his breath that his viewers probably didn’t know the meaning of unless they were also Korean or had gotten curious enough to look them up. Yoongi was pretty sure by now everyone knew, but he found it enduring. Of course he did.
Sighing, for the three hundredth time, Yoongi damned himself once again by closing his music program and putting his chin on his palm to watch the boy swipe a makeup brush back and forth over his palm as he talked about his day. He went with pinks and blues for his eyes—
“Oh, a cloud! Let’s do clouds! I don’t know if I can do them,” Jungkook said with another giggle. His face was so pure—not a blemish in sight, though Yoongi could remember a video where he got on once to complain about his “little friend” growing on his chin. He rarely even had any stubble, something the boy had complained about in another video once as he rubbed at his hairless chin.
“I just can’t get it to grow,” he had pouted as he leaned in close to the camera to show everyone nothing. There wasn’t a mark on him except the smears of makeup he started to apply, so Yoongi knew it was just the time that made him blink and sit back a little, his heart beating as he saw flashes of blood covering the boy’s face.
Yoongi was used to blood. He literally fucking drank it every day. But seeing someone covered in it—that had been violent. Yoongi’s memories flooded back just as quickly as he tried to blink them away. Faster than he had been able to blink his tears away that first time his dad made him bite into a live animal. Hurting others was simply monstrous, and Yoongi was no monster. Whoever had done that to Jungkook had been more than just a prick. They’d been evil. And for the three hundredth time since the weekend, Yoongi took a deep breath and pressed his nails into his palm to calm down. He couldn’t just go around ripping people’s heads off. That wasn’t him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care about other vampires in the area—he’d always been just a bit of a loner. He grew up way too scared of letting anyone know what he was, so he wasn’t out going and had very few friends. Some days he still wasn’t sure if joining the Stoker house was a blessing or a curse. Some days he wondered if he should know other vampires. Some days he wondered if he should find more human friends. Some days he just wondered and wondered, and before he knew it, he was three hundred videos into Jungkook’s channel requestioning every life decision.
Sometimes that was just how things went.
Sighing and rubbing his eyes as the video ended, Yoongi turned back to his other monitor, knowing he simply had to finish what he started before it was too late.
It had been three days since GoldenCloset posted his last video with vague references of going out. Three days since his last picture of his outfit that had come back torn and bloody. Three days since he had slumped onto the bed Namjoon was currently staring at and fallen asleep.
Mornings were the absolute worst and simultaneously best part of the day.
Waking up was never super enjoyable. It felt like being pulled out of quick sand, but you were the one who had to pull yourself out while being stuck in it at the same time. It made no sense, like mornings usually didn’t. Namjoon’s head woke before his body did, and it was like a dam had broken up there. He had billions of thoughts he couldn’t all chase down or follow, and some mornings he just laid on his bed taking deep breaths, wondering what he was even supposed to be doing with life.
Most of the time the flood brought debris from his past back, logs of regret and trash piles of guilt bumping into where he was just trying to cool his feet in the shallow part of the river while life began around him. He always felt naked then, even in the winter when he had on pajamas. Just striped and bare and exposed, and sometimes he just laid in his bed and dug his palms into his eyes and groaned, totally unsure of what to do.
Some mornings the flood was refreshing, actually, just wet and cleansing. It had him gasping and hanging on for dear life, still, so he didn’t get washed away. He would just lay in bed and get carried away before the rest of the world woke up, his own hands tight around himself. He could make a mess in the mornings. Could chase his dreams. Could relax for just a little before facing the freak outs of the day.
Mornings were the worst because of the floods, but they were the best because the water was only rushing in Namjoon’s mind. The rest of the house was quiet. He could swing himself out of bed and sit in his chair by the window and watch the birds on clear mornings. He could sit and look at Yoongi’s window with its curtain pulled tight and think of good things only without any junk clouding his eyes yet.
He liked to roll over in bed or curl up on his chair and check for any new GoldenCloset videos, too. The boy usually posted in the evenings, and while Namjoon could watch them immediately or even live, he had stopped doing that last year. But they were little rewards now. Something to look forward to waking up to.
And he hadn’t posted in three days.
Namjoon rolled onto his back and slung an arm over his head, sighing up at the ceiling and remembering Yoongi climbing through the window, the goosebumps from the cold prevalent on his arms. He thought of what Yoongi had said. Not just about Jungkook being bitten and possibly being turned, but about what Yoongi always brought up. About Namjoon’s obsession with the guy. About how, yeah, okay, sometimes on the mornings he grabbed his stiff cock, he thought of the little nose scrunches and hard abs the boy pouted down at even as he showed them off sometimes. Namjoon thought and thought and thought before swinging himself out of bed and standing at his window, glaring over at Yoongi’s room.
It wasn’t a competition. Except everything was. Of all of his traits, Namjoon hated that about himself the most. Even as he told himself it wasn’t, it was. It—grades, degrees, how fast he could read, how good of a boyfriend he could be, his looks, his friends—everything was a competition, and no matter how hard he tried to not care, he always would.
Mornings were the worst, because as he looked over at Yoongi’s window, all Namjoon could think about was the game he had fucked up so badly. There had never been a bigger L in history. It might as well be branded on his forehead.
But mornings were the best, too, because Namjoon remembered the competition wasn’t over. He wasn’t quite out of the game yet. So he was going to keep fighting.
Still, he turned to look at the empty bed in his room and shuffled back to check his phone with zero notifications on it. GoldenCloset hadn’t updated in three days, and while Namjoon tried not to think about the boy behind the camera, about Jungkook, the person he had finally met for real, he found himself succumbing to what he so often did. He thought about him. And thought and thought and thought.
That was just how his days began.
Jungkook was not going to call his mom.
He wasn’t dying.
She would coo, she would fret, she would rush to an airport to come and make him soup.
So he was not going to bother her.
He had a cold.
A fever.
He was dying.
He couldn’t stop sweating.
He couldn’t stop shivering.
He felt nauseous.
He was starving.
He kept waking up with his heart freaking out and his lungs feeling like someone was squeezing them, and he kept grabbing his neck and arm and even his leg, his clothes pushed aside to see what was there.
He was going crazy.
There was nothing there. Not even a bruise. Even though he felt like some alien was about to burst through his skin, nothing even wiggled.
He was totally fine.
The longest weekend of his life passed, and Monday morning came.
He woke up. He stretched. He put on his running clothes. This was how he started his days. He ran around the campus. And then he ran again. And again. And the sun still wasn’t up.
He slowed down on his fourth lap, but not because he was tired. He blinked up at the dark sky and then down at his watch.
“What the fuck,” he mumbled, his hand wrapping around his throat. He was being so dramatic, but he felt like he couldn’t remember the last time he had a glass of water. He sounded like some mummy coming out of a sandstorm. He had tried several times over the weekend to make a video, but each time he looked at himself in the mirror he thought he looked horrible. Eyes red or drooping, face flushed or completely pale, hair greasy or sticking up with static. He kept looking up “alcohol poisoning” and “side effects of getting drugged” because he simply couldn’t remember what happened, and there was no reason why he should feel and look like utter shit.
He was just glad his roommate had been gone because he had tossed and turned for days, only letting his phone die so he didn’t resort to calling his mom.
He wasn’t sick.
He was totally fine.
He had somehow just done his entire run three times in thirty minutes. That wasn’t normal. So he must be fine.
He walked down the sidewalk with his brow furrowed until he started to recognize in the dark where he was. It was hard not to, as the two houses came into view. They were both dark, only the porch lights on. That seemed normal. Most people on campus weren’t up before seven on a Monday. Rubbing at the back of his head, Jungkook sniffled and shivered, his body temperature still fluctuating, and then hugged himself tightly. He couldn’t stop the groan that dragged out of him as he doubled over a little. His stomach was eating him alive. He had a parasite. He had to. It was going to burst out of him. He put his hands on his knees and panted down at his feet, only one mantra on repeat in his brain:
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—
“Jungkook?” Whipping his head up at his name, Jungkook threw his hand up in a wave before he even saw who was talking. So few people knew his real name even if they knew his face, but there was no way he was going to let some stupid bug mess up his reputation. It was probably just the adrenaline making him run faster. It would pass. He’d go have breakfast and get coffee, two, since it was Monday, and he would take it to—
He blinked, the streetlights nearby not super helpful as someone in all black with his hoodie raised stood on the sidewalk in front of him. Jungkook felt his shoulders rise—felt his lips dry out—felt his heart quicken—felt his nose scrunch—felt his head pound—and took a step back, his hand slapped over his mouth as he almost shouted,
“I’m sick, watch out, man.”
“Jungkook, it’s Yoongi,” the guy said as he pointed to himself with the coffee mug in his hand. “We met this weekend? We brought you back from that bar?”
“Oh. Shit,” Jungkook breathed, his hand wiping at his brow where he had suddenly and profusely started sweating. “Hi. Sorry. Didn’t recognize you. Of course. Yeah, you live here. Yeah, good morning, hi, you’re up early.”
“Still up, more like it,” Yoongi mumbled before he cleared his throat and lifted his right and then left foot one after the other. Jungkook’s eyes snapped to his movement before Jungkook even knew what he was doing, and he shook his head to stop being such a weirdo. “How, uh, how are you feeling?”
“Me? Great! Totally! You?”
“Fucking exhausted,” Yoongi huffed as he lifted his coffee cup. “Had to go get some shit.”
“Yeah, I love shit,” Jungkook nodded before his brow furrowed again. “Did you just get one?”
“Huh? Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook said before laughing awkwardly. “I always get two.”
“Need a lot of caffeine, huh? You seem to run fast enough without it.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s—do I? I did. I did run fast,” Jungkook said as he looked down at his watch again and laughed so weirdly he felt himself shudder. “So weird. I don’t know how I did that.”
“You sure you’re alright? Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” Jungkook said before he shook his head. “But I’ll go eat. You going to sleep?”
“No, need to finish a project. Kept—getting distracted,” Yoongi said, his own nose sniffling in the cold as he cocked his head and looked Jungkook up and down. Jungkook did the same right back. He couldn’t even hold eye contact sometimes, so he wasn’t sure why he was even doing it.
“Sorry, I’ll let you go,” he said, but Yoongi took a step to his right as Jungkook moved to his left.
“Come in and have breakfast. You have time, yeah?”
“I, uh—no, it’s okay, I don’t want to bother you.”
“I wouldn’t invite you if it was going to be a bother. Come in. You—can I be honest?”
“Sure,” Jungkook nodded.
“You look like shit. Did you go to the doctor? Jimin—he’s inside, he’s a nursing major, he could check you out, if you want.”
“Oh, no, no, I’m okay. Just a cold or something. I’ll be okay.”
“Jungkook, seriously,” Yoongi said, and Jungkook felt a groan leaving his body again even as he tried to chuckle. He grabbed his side and smiled and felt like a limb was being ripped off his body. His knees buckled, and Yoongi rushed toward him to catch under his arm. “Yeah, fuck no, inside, come on.”
“I’m really alright,” Jungkook mumbled as he felt his head bumping into Yoongi’s sweater. “Maybe just for a minute. I’ll just catch my breath. You smell good.”
Jungkook tried to freeze, but Yoongi was helping him up the stairs. Mortified, just absolutely in pain for so many reasons, Jungkook groaned out a quick,
“Sorry, that was super weird.”
“It’s alright,” Yoongi actually laughed, something warm on Jungkook’s face making its way all the way to his stomach. He started to pull his shoes off at the door, all pain leaving his body as Yoongi bent down to do it for him that he almost fell over as he flailed.
“I can do it! I got it! I’m okay, I’m okay, really.”
“Don’t bend down,” Yoongi said up at him before leaving his own shoes by the door in a neat little holder. “Sit down somewhere. I’ll get you something to drink.”
He had left the frat house without really looking around to avoid being rude over the weekend, and he did the same, now, as he slumped into a kitchen chair. The lights were all off, and he resolved to be as quiet as possible.
“Running, seriously,” Yoongi mumbled as he opened the fridge. “If you’re sick, why are you running?”
“Thought I was better.”
“You’re supposed to rest when you’re sick. Drink this.”
“What is it?” Jungkook said as he looked up at Yoongi with his hands in his hoody’s pockets. “I mean, sorry, I appreciate it.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s Gatorade. For electrolytes. Nurse Jimin would suggest it, so here you go.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nodded as he picked up the pink drink and gulped it down. “Thanks—” The glass clattered on the table, but Yoongi was fast to pick it up as Jungkook smacked a hand against his mouth. “Oh my—oh god.”
“Are you going to be sick?” Jungkook shook his head furiously and then nodded and then shook his head again.
“Tasted like—god, tasted like socks.”
“Socks,” Yoongi repeated even as Jungkook felt his face burn.
“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know what socks taste like. But—I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe it’s Covid.”
“Uh huh,” Yoongi said before turning back to the fridge. He stared into it for a second before pulling something out, but Jungkook had his head in his hands, groaning, and only lifted the weight attached to his neck when he heard another glass clink in front of him.
“What’s ‘s?” he said, picking up the glass and sniffing it.
“Milk. Good for your bones.”
“Why’s it pink?”
“Strawberry milk.”
“I like banana milk,” Jungkook mumbled before taking a sip instead of chugging it, barely missing Yoongi mumbling,
“I know.” The sip was wise. Because he stuck his tongue out immediately and pushed the glass away. “God, tastes like a pixie stick.”
“Is that bad?”
“Why is it so sweet?”
“I have an idea,” Yoongi said as he poured the rest of the glass down the sink and then pulled his chair up close to Jungkook’s. “How are you with surprises?”
“Huh? Uh, like a surprise party?” Jungkook said, his heart rate spiking again as he looked around. “Not great, honestly. Is—should I be worried?”
“There’s no party, sorry,” Yoongi mumbled. “How, uh, do you deal with bad news? Like if you, uh, get a bad grade?”
“Uh, usually curl up into a ball and cry,” Jungkook said before laughing the weird laugh he was apparently developing.
“Well,” Yoongi said slowly, his eyes flitting to the door they came in through and up the stairs. Jungkook swiveled his head to do the same, not sure if he feared a clown or a cake in his face or what. “I can tell you what I think is up with you, or I can have Namjoon do it.”
“Namjoon? Why would he know?” Jungkook swallowed.
“Because it happened to him. And he’s annoyingly a bit of a genius, so he probably knows more than I do about it,” Yoongi huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest and stretched his legs out. He looked like a shrimp minus the pink skin.
“Knows more about what?”
“Everything. But what’s going on with you specifically.”
“I thought you said Jimin was the nursing major.”
“He is. He could help, too. Any of us could. We get the gist of it.”
“Of what?” Jungkook blinked, his stomach seemingly shrinking as they spoke.
“Of what’s going on with you. You’re hungry, right? But food doesn’t seem to be filling you up?”
“Yeah, I can’t get full. I haven’t thrown up or anything, though,” Jungkook rubbed at his stomach. “I think I’ve got a parasite.”
“It’s not that. But I can promise it will settle. You just need to eat the right thing.”
“Oh, like I’m nutrient deficient? I need more protein?”
“No,” Yoongi said slowly. “You didn’t like either of those drinks?”
“No, sorry. I appreciate it! I normally like Gatorade. And milk! I’m telling you, it’s probably Covid. You know they say it’s a blood disease more than anything now. Maybe that’s why my heart keeps freaking out.”
“It’s not Covid,” Yoongi said again, and for whatever reason, even if he wasn’t the nurse and Jungkook didn’t really know him, Jungkook did believe him. Yoongi looked off out of the kitchen, though, and as Jungkook followed his gaze, all he saw through the morning light was the house next door. “You seemed to like Namjoon, so he should probably tell you. I just—I know what you would probably like, and so maybe I should just explain—”
“You both could?” Jungkook said, his fingers wiping at his pants when Yoongi looked back at him. “I mean, I got the, uh, impression you two don’t like each other, but, maybe a little truce? Just to help a stranger out?”
“You’re not really a stranger,” Yoongi said before he scrubbed at his face. Jungkook stared down at his lap and said,
“Oh,” softly before clearing his throat. “You watch my channel.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi almost sounded like he was groaning behind his hands. “Sorry I didn’t mention it earlier.”
“It’s okay! But I’m just a guy, so, like, please don’t treat me like some celebrity or anything. Thanks for watching.”
“You sound just like you’re signing off,” Yoongi said as he pushed his hood back and revealed his ruffled dark hair and clearly tired eyes.
“Habit,” Jungkook smiled shyly. “Namjoon, uh, he watches, too?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded.
“Cool, cool.”
“I would have helped you either way,” Yoongi cleared his throat. “Just to clarify. Even if I hadn’t recognized you.”
“That’s good. Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Yoongi mumbled before he fluffed out his hair and patted his cheeks a few times. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Shit.”
“I can go alone, if you don’t want to come! I really don’t mean to bother you. I’m totally fine.”
“You’re totally not, so the sooner you stop saying that, the better.”
“Sorry,” Jungkook said as he stood up as Yoongi did. The guy looked him over again as he stuffed his hands in his pockets before sighing.
“I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, but I am very fucking tired. And stressed. And—worried about you. And not super excited to go see Namjoon in the morning.”
“We can—go later?”
“Like I said, the sooner the better, for your sake. Seriously. Come on,” Yoongi said, oddly not going to the front door but out through a back one. He grunted as he picked up a ladder and rattled it against the Wordsworth house until it was in position against a window. The window was already opening as Yoongi started up the rings.
“What the fuck are—oh. Shit,” Namjoon said from out his window, his head disappearing as Yoongi got higher. Without a word, the small guy climbed in and then stuck his head down.
“Can you climb up? Be careful.”
“Oh, yeah, I got it,” Jungkook said, the ladder shaking and clanging a bit as he scaled it. The morning felt colder now, for some reason, and a gust of wind almost pushed him into the window as he reached the top. The two guys were standing there, Namjoon’s mouth open and Yoongi with his arms across his chest, so Jungkook nodded and flashed an awkward smile. “Morning, hi, sorry about this. Not sure why we didn’t use the front door.”
“Yoongi always comes through the window,” Namjoon said, “though usually—uh, what’s going on?”
“I know he likes you,” Yoongi waved between them, “so I figured it’s time you tell him what’s going on.”
“With wh—”
“He knows we watch him,” Yoongi said, and Jungkook was surprised that it was Namjoon’s cheeks, not his own, that started to turn red. “So we need to tell him what’s going on.”
“Going on with—with what?”
“Him,” Yoongi said, and for a second as Namjoon stared at the guy, Jungkook knew he should look away. He should have. There was something going on, but he found himself looking between Namjoon’s bed head and Yoongi’s hoody hair, fascinated by the coloring of their faces. Namjoon’s mouth started to open, and Jungkook couldn’t make out his silent words, so thankfully Yoongi sighed and said,
“I gave him O and A, and he thought A was socks and O was a pixie stick.”
“W-what about B?”
“B is an acquired taste, and you know it.”
“B is for best,” Namjoon mumbled as Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“My point exactly. Wear your barrette and eat a baguette while you drink it, you snob. I just figured he could try mine.”
“He—” Namjoon said, his eyes going wide before they turned toward Jungkook who was shifting on his feet.
“Hi. Not sure what’s going on,” he said as he almost doubled over again. “Just hungry and, uh, in pain. Please don’t let me interrupt. Thanks for watching, by the way!”
“You sound like your send-offs,” Namjoon said.
“That’s what I told him,” Yoongi said with the slight hint of a smile before he reached for Jungkook’s arm and pulled him toward the made bed. “Sit down before you fall over. You look quite heavy. Namjoon, go ahead and explain to Jungkook what’s happening.”
“You’re sure it’s happening?” Namjoon shut the window while stage whispering.
“I’m positive.”
“Then why wouldn’t he like O? Everyone likes O.”
“You didn’t for a while.”
“Yeah, well,” Namjoon said as he shared another stare with Yoongi that Jungkook was definitely interrupting. “I don’t know if what you’re suggesting is the best idea.”
“Want me to grab him a squirrel, then?” Yoongi said so seriously Jungkook actually clutched his stomach and slapped a hand over his mouth as he shook his head.
“Fuck, please, that sounds disgusting.”
“Yeah, they’re not super tasty,” Yoongi said. “Look, kid, if Namjoon won’t tell you, I will. You’re going to freak out. Please don’t freak out. Are you close with your family?”
“What? Yeah. Why?”
“Fuck,” Yoongi sighed before sitting down on the bed opposite him. Namjoon opened his mouth to stop him before clamping his lips together. “You have a roommate, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Ever think about joining a fraternity?”
“Yoongi, slow down,” Namjoon finally said as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I got this.”
“Okay,” Yoongi shrugged. He brought a leg up onto the bed, Namjoon’s bed, and stared across at Jungkook, and instinctively Jungkook sat up a little straighter. He felt like he was at the doctor on an examination table.
“Okay, so,” Namjoon said as he ran his hands down his shorts and licked his lips. “You know that Guy de Maupassant quote, ‘For those who fought for it, life has a flavor the protected shall never know’?”
“Nope,” Jungkook said.
“Come on, Namjoon,” Yoongi mumbled.
“It means, like, you aren’t alive until you have to fight for it.”
“That’s dumb,” Yoongi snorted. “Plus, all life is fighting. What’s that even mean?”
“I just mean, or, he means, that Jungkook’s new life started this weekend.”
“Did I die?” Jungkook blinked.
“Rude to assume he was living a cushy life beforehand. We don’t know him,” Yoongi said.
“No, I didn’t mean to assume,” Namjoon gasped. “No, I just meant—shit—this weekend—you did almost die. You almost died. Jungkook. You—almost died.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook said slowly before he took a shuddering breath. “Yeah? Okay. You think this is just trauma? Like my body reacting to the stress? I was in bad shape, huh?”
“You lost a lot of blood,” Namjoon said, a look exchanged briefly with Yoongi. “Someone took a lot of your blood.”
“Right,” Jungkook nodded before blinking at the weird words Namjoon had said. “Wait, what do you mean they took my blood?”
“I mean you weren’t just beat up. Someone punctured you.”
“I got stabbed?” Jungkook gasped, his hand flying to his stomach like he had felt a knife go in.
“No. Well, yes. Not with a knife.”
“If you’re going to tell him, tell him, Namjoon.”
“Why didn’t you?” Namjoon wheeled on Yoongi, his eyes huge. “Why’d you bring him over here?”
“You don’t want him?”
“He’s not—I’m not—he’s not a puppy.”
“Yeah, I’m not a puppy,” Jungkook said, hoping his pout didn’t look like one since he had definitely been told it looked like several different baby woodland creatures before.
“Someone punctured you with their teeth,” Namjoon said slowly as he turned back toward Jungkook. “And—sucked your blood.”
“Someone sucked my blood,” Jungkook repeated. “With their teeth.”
“Yes. With their teeth.”
“Their teeth.”
“Teeth. Yes. Fangs.”
“With their fangs.”
“Yes.”
“Someone sucked my blood with their fangs.”
“Christ,” Yoongi huffed as he stood up, one of his hands pushing his sleeve up. “Jungkook, don’t freak out on us, but over the weekend you were bitten by several vampires. They sucked almost all of your blood out. On top of that, one of them who bit you had the power to turn you into a vampire. And that’s what’s happening to you. You’re turning into a vampire.”
“I’m turning—into a vampire.”
“Is he going to repeat everything again?” Yoongi mumbled to Namjoon.
“It’s probably the shock.”
“It’s probably the shock,” Jungkook nodded before blinking at the pair of them. “This is a pretty good prank.”
“It’s not a—”
“I get it. Frat bros. Pranking each other. It’s funny. Haha, I want to suck your blood,” Jungkook said as he made his fingers look like claws for some reason and opened his mouth to flash his teeth. It was ridiculously silly, except his throat made an odd hissing sound, and his nose wiggled at the scent of something sweet in the air, and his stomach called out, the loudest groan he had ever heard that had him gasping and clapping a hand over his mouth again. But he did it so fast, his lips weren’t even closed yet, and he felt something sharp against his palm. Like a razor sharp paper against dry skin, a tiny cut that would burn for days every time he used hand sanitizer. He drew his hand away and stared at the tiny line of red and then stared up at the two boys standing in front of him, his eyes wider than theirs even if theirs were giving a full moon a good run for its money.
“I—want to suck your blood?” Jungkook repeated in a tiny whisper.
“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded. “You probably do.”
“But—how did you know? You’re—you’re—oh my god. No, this is a super elaborate prank. I’m still dreaming. I was drugged. I’m sick. I’m totally fine.”
“Take a breath,” Yoongi said.
“The most important questions—” Namjoon said as he pressed his hands together and leaned toward Jungkook. “We don’t live forever. You can’t tell anyone. You do need to drink blood, but you can still eat normal food. You can’t change into a bat, unless that’s your power. You can eat garlic. Stay away from wooden stakes because, duh, one in anyone’s heart would obviously kill you.”
“I’m a—you’re—you’re one, too?” Jungkook said, not sure why his heart wasn’t erratic as Namjoon nodded slowly.
“Yes. Me and Yoongi are. The Stoker and Wordsworth houses are vampires only.”
“Vampires,” Jungkook repeated, a silly giggle bubbling up and out of his chest. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny. It’s hilarious. It’s so funny. You’re both so good! Great acting. I really almost believe you. I do believe you. I believe you,” he said, his body sobering super quickly. He stared down at the cut on his palm only to see nothing. Gasping, he showed it off to the two. “I have magic powers!”
“Maybe, but I think your power’s going to be super speed,” Yoongi mumbled. “You’re still so new, you’ll heal quickly for a while, but it might not last.”
“Oh my god,” Jungkook stared at his flawless skin again. “Super speed. I’m a super hero.”
“No. Vampire.”
“I’m a bad guy?”
“No,” Namjoon frowned. “You’re just you. We’re just people. Who happen to need to consume blood. Which is why Yoongi brought you over here in the first place. If you have any questions—you can ask me anything.”
“You want me to drink blood?” Jungkook said, his nose wiggling on its own again and his whole mouth feeling dry and yet full of saliva at the same time. Like someone had put a juicy steak in front of him.
“You need to, yes,” Yoongi said, his sleeve pushed back up again as it kept falling down. The hoodie was clearly two sizes too big for him. “So you’re going to drink from me, and Namjoon is going to make sure you don’t take too much.”
“I—” Jungkook gaped. “No way. What? There’s no way I would ever—what the fuck are you talking about?”
“Turned vampires usually drink from their sire,” Namjoon said as he wet his lips. “But we’re not sure whose yours is. I’m not even sure if they know what they did.”
“My—sire. Oh my god. If he dies, do I die?”
“What? No,” Yoongi snorted softly. “That’s just in the movies.”
“You’re just in the movies,” Jungkook said, pointing at the two. “Vampires aren’t real.”
“We are.”
“But you said you don’t even turn into bats!”
“I do,” Yoongi shrugged. “It’s my one very, very useless power.”
“It’s not useless,” Namjoon said before looking away from Yoongi who glared at him. “At least you have a power. Look, Jungkook, I know this is scary. Trust me. I—I was little, but I was turned, too.”
“You were?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon said as he licked his lips again. “My parents made that decision for me, so, yeah, it’s whatever. I’m sorry you had no say in it happening. We, well, I promise to help you if you want it. You will need to be careful.”
“Can I—go out during the day?”
“Yes,” Yoongi said. “Again, that’s just in the movies. We’re just people.”
“Who drink blood.”
“Who drink blood,” Jungkook nodded. “Right. Blood. You want me to drink blood. You—holy shit, you gave me blood!”
“Yes,” Yoongi actually winced, his whole body flinching a little. “Sorry. Yes, I put a drop in each of those drinks just to see.”
“But they were both gross! I can’t be a vampire! Isn’t that proof?”
“It will take a while to adjust. You may end up only liking certain types. Or blood from certain places. Again, think of it like food—you like certain foods more than others, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded.
“You’ll like certain bloods.”
“What if I—don’t?”
“Then you’ll probably die at a young age. Your bones will definitely get brittle. What’s funny is all the stories say vampires drinking blood are pale and skinny when it’s the opposite—if you don’t drink blood enough, you’ll turn out that way,” Yoongi explained.
“Is that why you look the way you do?” Jungkook asked before bowing his head and groaning a little. He missed the way Yoongi raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look with Namjoon. “I’m so sorry, that was an extremely rude comment, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Your body is changing,” Namjoon said, and Jungkook almost laughed, the trauma of getting “the talk” way too real. He was sitting on a bed across from two older adults, after all. “So soon it will need blood. That’s the simple explanation.”
“I should drink some blood.”
“Yes,” Yoong said, his feet shuffling toward him and his arm suddenly out in front of Jungkook’s face. “You should drink my blood.”
“Why? Dude, that’s—” Jungkook said, his mind repulsed but his rebellious nose leaning his body toward the other boy. “Isn’t that cannibalism?”
“I said drink my blood, not eat me,” Yoongi huffed surprisingly softly.
“I—I don’t like hurting people,” Jungkook mumbled.
“Me either,” Yoongi said right back into his eyes. “It only hurts for a second, I promise.”
“How do you kn—oh. You’ve done this before. Someone’s done this to you before. No way,” Jungkook shook his head. “This is crazy.”
“It’s not common, I’ll admit,” Yoongi hummed. “Most vampires don’t like the taste of other vampire blood. But I know my blood’s good.”
“I know it’s scary,” Namjoon said softly, his voice soothing and reassuring enough for Jungkook to sit up a little straighter as he stared at Yoongi’s arm. “But Yoongi wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it. And I know it will help you. I’ll—like he said, I’ll make sure you don’t go too far.”
“Can’t you just—put some in a cup for me or something?” Jungkook mumbled.
“I can do that, if you’d like,” Yoongi nodded.
“I’ve heard—in the movies—they—the bites—it’s like a snake’s?”
“Why does everyone always say that?” Yoongi laughed softly as he started to run his fingers up and down his forearm. “I won’t go limp. If you’re a vampire, yes, the area you bite will heal up quite quickly after. But I will feel it. There’s no floaty feeling or bliss or whatever.”
“He might get hard, though,” Namjoon said through a rumbling cough.
“He might?” Jungkook gasped. “So it is like a snake bite?”
“What snake bites a mouse hoping to have sex with it? Would you two shut up? That’s so stupid, stop comparing it to that,” Yoongi said.
“But you might get hard,” Namjoon said. “That’s just a fact.”
“Yeah, alright, I might. This isn’t some weird kink shit, though. Kid, I’m not fucking asking you to bite me because I want to come at seven AM, god. I just don’t want you to be sick anymore.”
“You don’t even know me,” Jungkook mumbled.
“I know I don’t,” Yoongi said back. “I’ve watched your videos, and I know it’s not the same, but, well, I think you’re a good person. And I know that you’re scared. And I know what it’s like to go without blood for too long. And I know what the solution is. So I know we don’t know each other, but, hi, I’m Min Yoongi, and I like to fix things. I know you’re not a thing, but, look, do you want to bite me or not?”
Jungkook absolutely did.
Not.
Did not.
The negative adverb was very important.
The adverb didn’t exist.
Jungkook wanted to.
Bite.
He wanted to bite the arm sticking out in front of him.
It was like a fresh, steaming, juicy chicken leg at a renaissance fair.
He put his hand out slowly and curled his fingers softly around the arm Yoongi put into it gently.
“Even though it’s what they do in movies—avoid the wrists and neck. The major arteries are dangerous. The thigh is a great place, to be honest, but—look, do not, under any circumstances, bite anyone else without a vampire you trust around. Do you understand? Shit, wish I had hypnosis sometimes,” Yoongi mumbled, but Jungkook nodded.
“Don’t worry, there’s no way I—I’m not going to—god, I’m going to, aren’t I? I think I might be sick.”
“You won’t be,” Yoongi assured him. “Just here—” his finger—it was long with a perfectly trimmed nail—tapped at the part of his arm right past the inside of his elbow. “And Namjoon will count for you. Once he says stop, stop, okay? Otherwise—well. We don’t want you to get sick.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Yoongi said. He had a really deep voice. It rumbled low in Jungkook’s gut and felt warm on his neck. “Like Namjoon said, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t okay with it. And don’t ever apologize for who you are.” His finger tapped against his arm again, and then the clear skin was just there. Waiting. For him to bite it. He was going to bite this guy’s arm. He already knew it. There was no point in delaying it. He opened his mouth only to close it again when he heard Namjoon say,
“Get a bit closer, Yoongi.” With an incomprehensible mumble, Yoongi did, and Jungkook realized he had been leaning off the bed a bit much. He sat back now, his hand still wrapped around Yoongi’s arm, and opened his mouth again.
“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbled down to him as he looked away. “If I do get hard. Sorry.”
“Oh. Yeah, I’m sure, uh—it happens?” Jungkook shrugged before licking his lips and opening them again. “Do I, uh, need to call them out?”
“What?”
“My fangs.”
“Say, ‘I want to suck your blood,’” Yoongi said.
“I want to—” Jungkook started to chant, the arm he was holding shaking as Yoongi laughed.
“He’s just fucking with you,” Namjoon rolled his eyes a little. “Just bite him. They’ll come.”
“Okay. Okay. Okay, here it goes,” Jungkook took a deep breath and opened his mouth wide before clamping his teeth into Yoongi’s skin.
It was surely in his imagination.
He squeaked.
Like a little dog’s toy. He pulled away, his eyes wide, to find Yoongi and Namjoon staring at him.
“Did you—” Namjoon said before Yoongi started to cackle.
“Oh my god—he made a—oh, fuck, fuck, he made a ‘chomp’ noise—oh, shit, that’s so funny,” Yoongi said as he held up his sleeve. “No, no, seriously. Bite me. I’m not a chew toy. You have to break the skin. Oh my god, that’s hilarious.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jungkook mumbled.
“You won’t. Hurry up before I have to ask Namjoon to do a demonstration.”
“Oh, no, that’s—” Namjoon started to say. Ever the competitor, though, a flaw he really needed to work on, Jungkook tried again.
He bit Yoongi’s arm.
And they were right—he would find they usually were.
His teeth didn’t need a command. They just came out. And went in just as quickly.
Jungkook knew sometimes he got dramatic. When he was overexcited, he wiggled and bounced and was told multiple times growing up to calm down. When he ate something good his face would twist in disgust—it was just unfair how good it was! When he found a new hyper fixation—his bike, makeup, a new camera, a celebrity—he could ramble and ramble about it for hours. So he knew. He knew it was a bit dramatic to say gnawing on Yoongi’s arm and sucking his blood into his mouth was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.
That was definitely something he couldn’t share with his viewers.
Apparently, he wouldn’t be able to share any of this with them, and it made him sad. He whined against Yoongi’s arm, and both boys couldn’t have known what he was thinking of, so their combined reassurances didn’t really apply, but they still helped.
“I’m fine, keep going,” Yoongi told him while Namjoon said,
“You’re okay, just a little more.” Jungkook knew, distantly, that Namjoon was counting like he said he would, but Jungkook had always been really bad at math, so the numbers meant nothing to him.
“It must taste good,” Yoongi said above his head. Their voices felt floaty. Or Jungkook was the one levitating. Maybe he could fly. That would be his vampire power. He was thinking of all the stories he’d seen where people lifted cars off of babies or dashed in front of a train to save someone and wondered if those people had been vampires, too. He’d seen enough Spiderman to know he could use new powers for good. Finding blood to drink, though—how did these guys do it?
“He spat the other stuff out so quickly,” Yoongi was still saying, his voice sounding like a whisper and a gasp and a ghost’s, though Jungkook didn’t feel scared at all. For whatever reason, he could tell Yoongi wasn’t afraid, either. He had hissed when Jungkook actually punctured his arm, but he hadn’t made any sounds or shown any signs of discomfort yet. As someone who was constantly on edge about bothering other people, Jungkook would have noticed.
Instead, he almost felt like Yoongi was enjoying it. That spurred Jungkook on, just a little. He was pretty positive Yoongi was, actually, because while Jungkook didn’t have any personal sexual experiences, he knew what moans meant.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi said through a second one, and Jungkook felt something tugging on his shoulder and then his hair sharp enough for him to pull back, a hiss shooting through his still sharp teeth.
“That’s enough,” Namjoon was telling Jungkook. And not to be dramatic, but it took Jungkook a good second to feel normal again, whatever that meant. He knew even if he couldn’t feel that his teeth lost their edge. He thought the blood would start to taste gross then as he licked his lips, but it was still the perfect mixture of sweet and salty and even spicy. There was a dribble running down the arm slightly shaking in front of him, and Jungkook looked up to Yoongi only to find the guy had his eyes closed, his lips partially open. So to Namjoon Jungkook turned, who nodded at him.
“Clean up,” Namjoon said, swallowing himself. He had a nice deep, voice, too. Probably because he had barely woken up before they climbed into his window. He needed his morning coffee or tea or—blood. Ever the sharer, Jungkook held Yoongi’s arm gently and offered it up.
“Do you want some?”
“Oh, that’s—” Namjoon started before Yoongi’s eyes flew open and he was scrubbing his lingering blood away with his hand.
“Absolutely not. You can not fucking offer that, Jungkook.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I would have explained, Yoongi,” Namjoon huffed. “You don’t have to be mean.”
“I’m not someone’s leftovers, fuck,” Yoongi scowled as he pushed his sleeve down. He had been right about the puncture marks—Jungkook could barely even see them before they disappeared under Yoongi’s hoodie.
“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook mumbled as he bit at his lip. “You taste really good.”
“I know,” Yoongi said, something gruff in his voice that made Jungkook want to apologize again. But there was such a color in his cheeks. And when Jungkook lowered his eyes, there was an obvious bulge in his pants.
“Oh,” Jungkook gasped before pointing a finger that was honest to God red around his fingertips. “Do you want me to help with that?”
“What? No, absolutely fucking not,” Yoongi blinked at him before rolling his eyes and pushing between them. “You deal with him, Namjoon.”
“Oh, but—wait,” Jungkook said, surprised at how quickly Yoongi disappeared.
“I’ll be right back,” Namjoon mumbled as he followed after Yoongi who at least hadn’t climbed back out the window. Still, Jungkook eyed the top of the ladder and wondered if he shouldn’t make a run or jump for it. He could test out if he could fly now. He flopped his hands into his lap and sighed before sticking his red finger into his mouth. He frowned, his whole face scrunching. It shouldn’t taste good. It was blood. Someone’s blood. It definitely shouldn’t taste so good.
Frustrated, incredibly so, and confused, Jungkook felt his chest shudder as he sucked on the tip of his finger, his tongue rolling around the edge of his nails. Exhausted, suddenly, the excessive running and the tossing and turning all weekend and the millions of questions in his mind had him lying down. He could apologize to Namjoon later. But he brought his legs up onto the bed and curled up a little, his finger still in his mouth as he frowned the whole time. Being excited and sad at the same time was confusing, too. Running fast was undeniably cool. But drinking blood? Not being able to tell his family? Jungkook hugged himself tightly, unable to stop the way he started to shake.
“I’m so sorry,” he said over and over again, especially when the door opened again.
“Oh. Shit,” Namjoon said.
“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook started to sit up. “I’ll go.”
“No, don’t, it’s okay, really,” Namjoon said as he came over to the bed and pulled a blanket up to Jungkook’s shoulders. “It’s good to cry. I waited way too long to after my, uh, first time, and I ended up just being a little shit. I was really angry. Do you feel mad? Are you mad at Yoongi? Or me?”
“No,” Jungkook sniffled honestly as he wiped at his wet face. “I don’t know what I am. What am I?”
“You’re still yourself,” Namjoon shrugged a little awkwardly. “You like to ride your bike and do makeup videos and eat good food and play video games and take—oh, shit,” he took a step back, his eyes wide. “I’m so sorry.”
“’so’kay,” Jungkook said. “Yoongi told me you two watch my videos.”
“I—sorry, I should have said something. I—didn’t want you to—I don’t know, get the wrong impression.”
“Would you have let me stay here if I wasn’t GC?”
“Yeah, of course,” Namjoon said as he sat down on his bed with a sigh. “More just—I didn’t mean to make it weird. Do you feel sick or anything?”
“No,” Jungkook almost laughed. “The exact opposite. But I’m tired.”
“You’re welcome to use the bed. Really. Cry all you want.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook said with another watery laugh. “I feel stupid.”
“Don’t. Seriously. This is a lot. It will be, too. Hopefully just for a while. I’d suggest—well, I would suggest staying here with us. Or Stoker house. So we can help.”
“You want me to join your frat?”
“I’ll talk to Taehyung,” Namjoon said. “Rush is literally next week. We have the space. We’d be honored to have you.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook said as his eyes welled up again. “Sorry, I don’t know why—god.”
“Really,” Namjoon nodded, “cry it out. I’ll be here if you want to talk about it. Let me, uh, I should go move the ladder, though. I’ll bring you some water. Need anything else?”
“No. Thanks. Seriously, you two—you’re very nice.”
“No worries,” Namjoon mumbled as he left again. Shifting on the bed, Jungkook told himself what he had heard so often—stop being dramatic! But he turned over and kept crying. It seemed perfectly reasonably to. Because he hadn’t died. But he had. He was the same, but he wouldn’t be. His life wasn’t over, but a new one was beginning. And all of it was frustrating and confusing and exciting and overwhelming, so Jungkook cried himself to sleep, not even knowing when his tears ended. All he knew, though he had no idea what it meant, even when Namjoon answered all of his questions later, was that his life as a vampire had begun.
I promised JK would be fine! I hope you enjoy the chapter more than you enjoy my stupid little pictures, haha
Warning: Blood!
AO3 masterlist
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: GoldenCloset
Any good chef would tell you that the kitchen is a battleground. Not just because of the number of knives. But juggling multiple dishes, prepping recipes, finding the best ingredients—all of this took organizing, planning, strategizing. And, of course, the kitchen had to have a competent chef who could lead his men to victory.
“What do you think?”
“Of your interview speech for an interview you don’t even have yet?” Yoongi mumbled as he hugged himself tighter in the cold.
“That’s exactly the point!” Seokjin tried not to sound exasperated, but, really, he couldn’t understand what Yoongi didn’t understand. “I need to prepare!”
“Your reign has been filled with lots of mistakes, too, though,” Jimin hummed as he walked beside them.
“Thank you for calling it my reign, I appreciate you,” Seokjin said before thinking a little. “Of course mistakes will be made in a kitchen. But any good chef will know when to give grace or cut out the weakest links.”
“Look, for the last time, I was taking a nap,” Yoongi muttered. “It’s not my fault I didn’t hear them on the porch. You know I turn my ears off when I sleep.”
“Do you really?” Seokjin asked, impressed. “I wish I could turn my ears off.”
“No, stupid. I’m just annoyed we’re still talking about this.”
“Well, I’m not talking about it,” Seokjin said as he pointed down the street. “Come, we’re here to celebrate.”
“I want to go home,” Yoongi mumbled.
“Oh, come on, you never come out with me,” Jimin said as he reached across Seokjin to take Yoongi’s hand. “I’m so excited. We got our rush paperwork in, we got some nice fire kindling from our lovely neighbors, and now we’re gonna get sloshed.”
“Absolutely not,” Yoongi tsked even if he didn’t pull his hand away. “You’re not even old enough.”
“Hasn’t stopped me before,” Jimin giggled. “So, can I take you to my normal spots?”
“We need food,” Seokjin said as he pushed between them and threw an arm over each of their shoulders. “So we can discuss next weekend. I want the best rush ever.”
“I thought you put all the plans in the paperwork,” Yoongi sighed.
“Paperwork is simply there to show the bureaucracy I can follow their rules. In reality, my dear friend, I am a rebel. The paperwork is meaningless. It’s all for show. Nothing that’s written down is true. You don’t find me following anything written down, do you? Not me. I am your fearless leader, leading you past the constraints of mere to-do lists and rules on paper that—”
“So what about recipes? Those things written on paper?”
“Guidelines,” Seokjin cleared his throat with a wave of his hand. “A chef needs to have creative license still. I just looked up what other frats do and wrote down some of their ideas. I did this last year, too. Don’t worry. If there’s a narc, we’ll just kill them.”
“Ha,” Yoongi said before pointing down the street. “Can we go there?”
“Ew, no, it looks boring,” Jimin said.
“And not a restaurant. I need substance. I can’t party on an empty stomach.”
“You should have had a bite before we left, then,” Yoongi said.
“Are you offering?” Seokjin grinned, his teeth flashing for a moment, two of them suddenly long and sharp before they retracted as the guy laughed.
“The place looks chill, that’s all. Let me get a whisky in me, and then we can get food. How about we each pick a place? Does that sound like a good compromise?”
“Aw, that’s my little vice-president,” Seokjin said, his jabbing finger deflected by Yoongi’s palm.
“Secretary. Don’t give me more responsibility than I already have.” Lanton was not known as a “party school,” but like any typical college, there was already a party to be found. Seokjin wasn’t especially partial toward them, but he knew Jimin longed to let loose after studying nursing almost all hours of the day. But Seokjin understood the importance of camaraderie, so doing things with the house members was important.
Vlad always said he was too busy, which Seokjin didn’t really believe, but he didn’t want to risk the guy stabbing anyone in public with the first sharp object he got a hold of, so Seokjin never pressured him. Zane had a strict no drinking rule, unless it was blood or energy drinks, and Seokjin wasn’t going to start judging him about how bad those were for his health because he knew alcohol wasn’t that much better. And D’Arcy—well, the guy wanted to be a DJ, but he needed to perfect his craft before getting too crunk in the real world, so maybe next year.
“How about we vote afterwards. On which place was the best.”
“What’s the winner get? Because I already know I’ll win,” Jimin said.
“I can assure you, I will never vote for any place that thinks a drink should be ninety-five percent sugar and only five percent alcohol,” Yoongi huffed.
“You’re so boring,” Jimin sighed before grabbing Seokjin’s arm. “But he’s right, the voting won’t be fair. Yoongi would vote for this dingy little place. You’d vote for food.”
“Rock, paper, scissors, then,” Seokjin suggested. “That’s always the best way to solve conflicts, anyway.”
“Deal,” Jimin said, his eyebrows raising and his hand reaching over to shake Yoongi a little as the guy didn’t agree, too. He had gone completely still, actually, and Jimin’s soft fingers turned hard as they grabbed his shirt, his eyes looking around quickly. “What do you smell?”
“Oh, please, as if we’re hunters in the forest,” Seokjin blew out a noisy breath through his lips, though he stopped, too, his eyebrows raised, and leaned in close to Yoongi’s ear. “What do you hear, boy?” Waving them away, Yoongi pointed toward the bar in front of them at a motorcycle, the only vehicle in front, parked by it.
“That’s GC’s bike.”
“Who?”
“Goldencloset.”
“Golden—who?” Seokjin said to Jimin.
“That youtuber Yoongi’s obsessed with.”
“I am not,” Yoongi muttered as he shook them off.
“How do you know that’s his bike, then?”
“Because he showed it in a video,” Yoongi said as he walked over slowly toward the sleek, black vehicle.
“Go ahead, caress it,” Seokjin encouraged him, a grin on his face as he looked at the bouncer standing by the door. “So, what, you think he’s inside?”
“Yeah, probably,” Yoongi mumbled, his fingers just hovering over the bike for a second.
“Well, let’s go, then,” Seokjin said as he grabbed Yoongi’s arm and hurried him toward the door.
“No, wait, we can’t just—wait—”
“No, it’s interesting, now. Hello, fine sir,” he said to the man at the door. “Need our IDs?”
“Place is closed.”
“Oh, but—” Seokjin said, not exactly seeing an Open sign anywhere so not really sure how to prove the guy wrong.
“But there are people inside,” Yoongi said.
“Private party,” the bouncer shrugged.
“But—my friend—that’s his bike,” Yoongi said, and Seokjin and Jimin raised their eyebrows. Yoongi could help them come up with pranks if pressed. He could help organize and keep the house clean. He could fix anything that broke. But he wasn’t a liar. “He’s got—he was wearing a plaid jacket. Silver chain. Black slacks.”
“Like I said, private party. Off you go, now,” the guy said definitively.
“What the fuck was that?” Seokjin hissed as they walked away. “Think you suddenly have hypnosis powers?”
“Oh, I could try,” Jimin said.
“No,” Yoongi said as he looked again at the bike before walking around the store’s corner. “He posted a picture of his outfit early. And I wouldn’t risk trying, Jimin. He’s one of us.”
“What? No way,” Jimin gasped. “How can you tell?”
“Never doubt when Yoongi goes full dog mode,” Seokjin whispered. “But, uh, hey, I didn’t have sneaking into a bar on the agenda tonight. Can we go?”
“Just let me check—I smell—” Yoongi said halfway around the building, his hand reaching out to grab the brick wall. “Can’t you smell that?”
“You know if it’s not garlic or the biggest plate of spaghetti you’ve ever seen, chances are I don’t,” Seokjin huffed. “It’s an alley. There’s trash.”
“Yoongi’s right,” Jimin said as his little nose wiggled up and down. “There’s blood.”
“Well, if that guy at the door was a vampire, maybe there are some inside. And if that’s the case,” Seokjin said as he turned around, “I definitely don’t want to mess with them.” Yoongi sucked in a breath and staggered forward a little. “Guys,” Seokjin hissed once more before Jimin followed after him. Groaning, Seokjin stepped over a broken bottle to stick with them.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Yoongi hissed as he moved as fast as he probably ever had around the corner. “Fuck, Jimin—”
“Oh, damn,” Seokjin said with a hand to his mouth as he saw what Yoongi was crouching down next to. The palm over his mouth wasn’t just because he felt his teeth trying to elongate. That would have been beyond embarrassing. He could almost feel his mom’s hand on the back of his head from the first and only time he had accidentally let them come out in public. It was because while some vampires might grow hungry at the sight of such a bloody mess, Seokjin knew spoiled meat when he saw it. Not that the kid on the ground was spoiled. Or meat. Well, humans had muscles. So he had meat on him, in a sense. He just wasn’t—
“Seokjin,” Jimin hissed, the sound of urgency in his voice, not his powers, making Seokjin bend down next to them.
“Is—is this him?” Seokjin whispered as Yoongi lifted the boy’s head up while Jimin felt at his wrist.
“Is he dead?” Yoongi asked before shaking his head. “I can hear his heartbeat. Fuck, fuck. Fuck, Seokjin, fix him.”
“Now, hold on,” Seokjin raised his hands.
“Quickly. At least enough for us to get him home,” Jimin said.
“You know it’s not—it works on me, not other people—”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Yoongi said, the sharpness in his voice sharper than the teeth he flashed at Seokjin. “You want me to go full dog mode?”
“No, no, okay,” Seokjin said, his hands still wavering. “There’s just—a lot of blood.”
“Don’t you dare taste it, either,” Yoongi said as he tilted the boy’s head slightly. “Here first.”
“You know in order for me to—”
“Just don’t swallow, asshole, hurry the fuck up.”
“Okay, okay,” Seokjin said. Jimin was doing his nurse thing. Checking the kid’s pulse or wrapping his arm or something. Seokjin looked at the boy’s face for a second. He was a cute little thing. Seokjin could see why Yoongi was obsessed with him. Feeling his mom’s hand on the back of his head again, Seokjin bent down quickly to the clearly visible punctures in the boy’s neck. Without thinking too much about it, he placed his lips over them and then his tongue. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed his teeth to stay normal. It ended up being easier than he expected. It wasn’t that the kid didn’t taste good. He surely did. But it was the smells that made Seokjin sit up and spit anything he had collected in his mouth out as fast as he could.
“Fuck, that’s gross,” he gagged as he wiped his mouth and stuck his tongue out.
“Do it again,” Yoongi said. “Hurry.”
“He’s all—it wasn’t just one,” Seokjin said before bending back down.
“Fuck,” Jimin mumbled. “I guess that makes sense. He’s got bites on both arms.”
“Fuckers,” Yoongi said through gritted teeth. “Sick fuckers. Hold him, Jimin, I’ll go in—”
“Oh, I think not,” Seokjin spat out as he cleaned his mouth again. “Give me his wrist.” It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with his friend. Whoever had done this clearly hadn’t been raised right. Their mother must have never smacked the back of their head when they brought their fangs out around a human.
“They obviously left him here to die,” Yoongi said, the hardness in his voice turning into a warble.
“You think it was Tae’s group?”
“No,” Yoongi almost laughed. “Not at all. Namjoon’s—no, it definitely wasn’t them.”
“Yeah, definitely not them,” Seokjin spat again after letting go of the boy’s wrist. He didn’t even wipe the blood off his lips this time before reaching for the other wrist.
“Who else could it be?” Yoongi asked. “Who else is there?”
“Let’s think about it later,” Jimin said as he patted Yoongi’s arm lightly. “He looks a bit heavy, but I can probably carry him on my back.”
“You want us to take him home?” Seokjin gaped.
“We can’t leave him here. Yoongi, his heart’s still going?”
“Yeah, it’s faint.”
“Seokjin is healing him, and then I will, too. He’ll be okay.”
“I don’t even know if it’s working,” Seokjin said. His power was for when he cut himself. For the time he broke his finger and refused to miss a class so only wrapped them up to not make anyone suspicious even if they only felt slightly bruised by the next day. It wasn’t something that worked on humans usually. If it did, he would have been a nurse like Jimin and gone around saving people until he went viral enough and got crucified for being some Jesus wannabe. But Yoongi’s plea had gone straight to Seokjin’s soft heart, so of course he had to try.
“Help me get him up. We’d better go behind a few buildings to avoid that bouncer,” Jimin said. Grunting as the boy really was heavier than expected, Seokjin helped put him on Jimin’s back. Yoongi stood up and brushed himself off, his nose sniffing hard.
“One second,” he said as he pressed himself against the back door for a few seconds before nodding and leading the way out of the alley. Keeping a hand on the kid’s back beside Jimin, Seokjin followed after.
He hadn’t thought his silly analogy would come to life so quickly, but they left the bloody battlefield behind, the wounded soldier not a part of the plan at all. But as any good chef knew, the kitchen was all about improvising, so Seokjin could adapt.
While Kim Seokjin thought he had defeated Taehyung by taking down the effigy they had made of the guy, in reality that was all part of Taehyung’s plan. He had stuffed leaves from their backyards into those black bags and puffed them just right until they resembled the man’s perfect plump form. It was his real masterpiece. He should have submitted it for a class project. He felt a little sad, like seeing your son return from war, when it showed up on their porch, its head ripped off and its guts spilling out. But Taehyung had dumped the soldier out back into the field of leaves and then raked enough of them up to jump into, so he knew who the real winner was.
War was like painting, though. It was art. Mostly because it was messy. There was even a book called The Art of War, so Taehyung knew he wasn’t the only one who thought this. Sure, he hadn’t read the book even though Namjoon had encouraged him to, but he knew enough about art to see the point. You had to get creative. You couldn’t be afraid. You had to blow the other person’s mind, and one day they would be so impressed they would admit you were good. No, great. Better than them. That would be how you won for good.
Grinning as he leaned against the cold steel of the ladder, Taehyung gripped his window marker carefully and drew a white circle against the glass.
“Keep an eye out, yeah?” he called down to Namjoon.
“I am, I am. I’m more worried about you falling than anything else,” Namjoon hissed back up at him. He stuffed his fingers under his arms for a second before grabbing the ladder again, his feet continually lifting up and down. If he had only put on pants instead of keeping his sleep shorts on, he might not be freezing at the moment. “You sure you don’t want me to do—keep your feet on the ring!”
“It has to be perfect,” Taehyung said as he put his foot back. It didn’t feel quite right, as he needed to lift his leg to get the right angle, but he didn’t want to fall. The ladder was pretty rickety. “And you’re not the right height.”
“I’m as tall as Seokjin.”
“You’re taller,” Taehyung said down to him. “I’m his exact height.”
“How do you even know that?” Namjoon muttered.
“What is it you always say? ‘To know thine enemy is to know thine self?’”
“So you did read the book.”
“What book?” Taehyung said as he leaned back a little to look at his handiwork. “Wow, I’m so good. It looks just like him.” He had drawn the circle exactly where Seokjin’s head would sit when he stood up from his desk. He had added a perfectly red, round clown nose and the wig to make him look truly silly. He’d even added a speech bubble that read “Here to suck,” a play on “here to serve” as well as just a huge diss because the guy was so lame, he sucked. Taehyung couldn’t wait to look out his window and see Seokjin standing there like the clown he was.
“If I do say so myself, my dear friend,” Taehyung said down to Namjoon. “This might be my best prank yet.” Used to him saying that, Namjoon just gave him a thumbs-up before his head whipped toward the street.
“Get down! Someone’s coming.”
“Oh,” Taehyung giggled, because running from the battlefield the most exciting part.
“Why are they back already?” Namjoon said as he lifted his feet anxiously as Taehyung climbed down.
“It’s them? Wow, didn’t even last an hour. I knew his stamina wouldn’t be great, but wow, think he got drunk first? Maybe it was Yoongi. He’s just a little guy.”
“Shut up,” Namjoon hissed, his eyes glancing up at the window before he pushed himself away from the ladder as Taehyung jumped down. “Leave it for later.” Nodding, Taehyung followed his friend to the trash cans between the houses and squatted down to peer around them into the street.
He didn’t need super hearing to know who was coming. The guy was so loud. There were nights Taehyung could hear him singing, and even stuffing a pillow over his head didn’t drown the guy out. He was really the worst vampire, because he had no idea of how to be sneaky or quiet. He was just so loud. His lips just flapped, flapped, flapped, and—
“Holy shit,” Taehyung hissed, his fingers digging into Namjoon’s arms when he saw a body, a literal body, not an effigy of a bag stuffed with feathers or leaves or whatever, hanging over Seokjin’s back. The guy, Seokjin, was complaining with every step.
“He’s heavy—why can’t I fly—someone help me. Why is this my life? Get him off. Ah, I think he moved! Shit! Is he alive?” He wasn’t alone. Yoongi and Jimin were walking on either side of him, their hands on the guy’s back slung over Seokjin’s back, and Taehyung stared at Namjoon with his mouth open as his friend slowly swiveled his head to look at him.
“Is that—did they?” Taehyung said. Namjoon licked his lips as the three Stoker boys climbed up their steps. “No, no way, this is some trick. They’re planning a prank on us.”
“Tae, that was definitely a real human.”
“Maybe he was drunk.”
“Even I could smell him, Tae. And he clearly was not drunk. I’m not even sure he was—”
“Don’t say it,” Taehyung hissed, his mouth covering Namjoon’s hand before he whipped it away, his eyes super wide. “Let’s just go inside.”
“No way, we have to help that guy!”
“Uh,” Taehyung said. “We can’t reveal that we’re here.”
“We live next door, Taehyung. They know we’re here.”
“I mean here, here. Pulling a prank.”
“We always pull pranks. Tae, what if that guy is dead?”
“Then we’ll—call the police.”
“And, what, help explain bite marks on him? We have to go help him. Now.”
“But you said we can’t actually kill anyone. I’m not looking for a fight.”
“Please,” Namjoon said as he stood up and brushed his clothes off. “They’re not going to fight us.”
“I think they will, in fact,” Taehyung said as he followed his friend slowly toward the Stoker front door. “This would be a great opportunity for them to finally strike! We’re walking into enemy territory.”
“Taehyung, at the end of the day, what matters more? Winning this little war against this stupid fraternity house, or making sure we aren’t accomplices to murder?”
“Well—” Taehyung said, only cowering a little as Namjoon stared at him.
“It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. This is serious.”
“I thought it was ‘it’s all fun and games when someone gets hurt,’” Taehyung said, pouting and then sighing when Namjoon glared at him even harder. “Okay, okay, I’m kidding. Of course it’s not cool that they’re—” he swallowed. “That they—I mean, do you think they—but they’re—I mean—”
“They’re vampires, Tae. Sometimes shit happens just like it does with humans. Come on,” Namjoon said as he tugged on Taehyung’s sleeve. “We have to go help the guy.”
“Let me call Vladamir! Three on three is better!”
“That guy went out hours ago. Hurry,” Namjoon said as he climbed the steps and pounded on the door before Taehyung could stop him. Groaning and taking a deep breath, Taehyung climbed the steps after him, his eyes scanning the doorway for any traps. The door opened faster than he expected, and Taehyung swiveled his hat around backwards, ready for a fight as Yoongi stood in front of them.
“What do you want?”
“I saw,” Namjoon said, his finger pointing past the guy’s shoulder. “What the fuck did you do?”
“None of your business. Go away,” Yoongi said. The door started to close, but Namjoon stuck his foot inside and put his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. The guy stared at it momentarily, and Taehyung saw Yoongi’s lips curl.
“Yoongi.”
“You’re supposed to ask for permission to enter, you know,” Seokjin’s voice sang out behind him, his smile appearing behind Yoongi’s shoulder. Taehyung felt his teeth showing and pressed his lips together as he snorted a little.
“Like we’d ever ask for permission. You both know Namjoon could break your door down if—”
“Oh, please, this nerd?” Seokjin scoffed. Namjoon was still looking at Yoongi, who was meeting his gaze in such a hardcore way Taehyung had to wonder if the guy had developed mind reading powers. If he had, he couldn’t find out about what they were up to, so Taehyung came up under Namjoon’s arm and started to push his body against Yoongi’s.
“Let us in.”
“No, fuck off,” Yoongi grunted.
“Yeah, go home to your finger paints and sippy cups.”
“They’re called straws, and—”
“They’re bad for the environment! Planet killer!”
“Person killer!” Taehyung shot back, Seokjin actually gasping before poking at him around Yoongi’s body.
“I’ve never killed a person in my life! You take that back! Paint fumes killed your braincells, you absolut—”
“Everyone knows straws aren’t the real problem,” Namjoon said loudly as he looked at Yoongi one more time before taking a step forward. “Especially not right now. The real problem is that kid you just brought home. Who did it?”
“Not one of us,” Yoongi said up at him before he sighed and sagged back. “Stop pushing against me, fuck. Move, Jin, god, get out of the way, this is so stupid.”
“I’ll defend my fortress until the day I die,” Seokjin said, his arms spread out and his feet wide.
“Good, good, I’m going to help Jimin.”
“You can’t come in here,” Seokjin said. “I haven’t given permission.” Namjoon and Taehyung looked at each other before both taking a step past the threshold. Taehyung looked up and around, waiting for a bucket of garlic water or glitter mist to spray on him but only saw Seokjin. Grinning triumphantly, Taehyung took another step. Seokjin’s mouth opened wide, and suddenly a high pitch sound came out of it. It was guttural, too. Like he was crying and moaning and screeching like a banshee and possessed demon goat all at once, and Taehyung wasn’t sure if he was more impressed or shocked or—something else. Yoongi was only halfway up the stairs, and he turned around and somehow shouted over Seokjin’s noise as he slapped his hands over his ears.
“Jin, shut the fuck up! Not now!” Seething, Seokjin crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Taehyung and Namjoon before following after them. Taehyung had been inside the Stoker house before. It was nothing special. In fact, there was nothing really to see. A clean kitchen table. No dirty dishes in the sink. A living room void of passed out dudes. Very pretentious and boring. There was no life in the place. Which reminded Taehyung that there might literally not be a life in the house. He knew Yoongi’s room was next to Seokjin’s while Jimin’s was on the other side of the house and the younger guys lived downstairs. Glad Seokjin’s door was closed so no one saw his masterpiece yet, he shuffled into what must be Yoongi’s room.
He didn’t gasp.
Namjoon did.
“That’s GC!” he pointed to the body on the bed.
“No way,” Taehyung said, because while he didn’t follow or watch the guy himself, he had caught Namjoon on multiple occasions doing just that. And perhaps a little something more one time. He knew what the guy meant to Namjoon, in other words. But he couldn’t share that with the enemy in the room.
“Yes, yes, I’m positive,” Namjoon said as he got out his phone, his fingers shaking a little as he opened up an app.
“Not you, too,” Seokjin said with a loud sigh behind them as he pushed past them into Yoongi’s room.
“Can I—can we come in?” Namjoon said as he showed Taehyung the picture on his screen.
“Oh, suddenly he has manners,” Seokjin huffed. Taehyung looked at the picture on Namjoon’s phone and the boy on the bed. It was definitely the same person.
“Yoongi?” Namjoon asked, but the guy didn’t answer as he hovered with Jimin over the guy on the bed. “What are you going to do with him? If you’re planning some sick joke, this is too far. Even you have to know that, Seokjin.”
“There’s no joke here,” Seokjin shrugged. “Sadly. I wish something funny was happening tonight.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will,” Taehyung said, his smile making Seokjin scoff at him.
“You’re right, seeing your face always makes me smile because you look so funny. It’s funny, how you think you’re really better looking than some people.”
“I never said that,” Taehyung said as he put his hands on his hips. “You said, in fact, that you think—”
“If you’re going to argue, please go do it somewhere else,” Jimin said. If Taehyung was afraid of anyone in the Stoker house, it was Jimin. He could seem so sweet, but Taehyung had first-hand experience of how sour he actually was. Huffing a little and crossing his arms over his chest, Taehyung leaned on the doorframe and watched Namjoon hesitating. Nudging him a little, Taehyung mumbled,
“Just go in. Maybe it will be like Romeo and Juliet, and if you kiss him, he’ll wake up.”
“That’s not at all how that story goes—” Namjoon started to say while Seokjin rolled his eyes.
“I already tried that, so no point in—hey!” Yoongi had thrown the nearest object—his headphones—at the guy, and Taehyung felt his eyes go wide. There was dissention in the house. He could use that to his advantage. Seokjin wasn’t the perfect leader. Anyone could see that. And if even Yoongi wanted to throw things at him—Taehyung could give the guy plenty of ammunition to throw something else if he really wanted to. But Seokjin’s second “Hey!” caught everyone’s attention as he pointed to the bed, his screech not quite like the alarm one from earlier but still a bit goat-like.
“Oh, shit,” Yoongi said as he scurried off the bed. Jimin didn’t move at all but continued to hold the guy’s wrist in his hand even as the not-corpse’s eyelashes started moving.
“I hear that sometimes a dead body can move,” Taehyung started to explain.
“He’s not dead! We made sure he wasn’t,” Yoongi hissed without looking away from the boy on the bed. He definitely was starting to stir more than a dead body would. He was making sounds, too.
“Sloppy job, really,” Taehyung said. “Think your hypnosis will stick this time, Jimin? I get being hungry, but three on one sounds a bit unfair.”
“For the last time, Taehyung,” Jimin said, that same fake sweetness in his voice that boiled Taehyung’s blood, “you have to stop lying about things you think I’ve done.”
“—nt –ed” the boy on the bed groaned.
“Shit, what if he turns into a zombie?” Seokjin whispered as he put his fingers against his lips.
“Zombies aren’t real,” Yoongi said helpfully. “He shouldn’t be turning into anything. Hey, kid—” he put a hand on his bed and leaned forward over the boy’s legs. “Can you hear us?”
“Mmmnh.”
“Sounds like a zombie to me,” Seokjin said.
“Can you tell us your name?”
“You can’t ask him that,” Namjoon said, his hand not quite reaching Yoongi as he waved at him.
“What, don’t you want to know?” Yoongi looked back at Namjoon who shook his head then shrugged.
“—am I?”
“You’re in the Stoker fraternity house,” Jimin said, as he must have heard the boy’s whole question.
“The best on campus,” Seokjin added.
“The lamest on campus, you mean,” Taehyung said before saying a bit louder, “next door is Wordsworth, definitely worth more than this slum.”
“That’s a bit offensive,” Namjoon muttered. The boy on the bed groaned deeply, and everyone stared back at him as his eyes fluttered open.
“Where—how did—” he struggled to say, a hiss leaving his mouth as he sat up a little. Jimin helped him, and Yoongi scurried back again like a scared little cockroach.
“We found you behind a bar.”
“I—I’m drunk?” the boy said as he looked at his body, his eyes widening as he looked at his wrists Jimin had been bandaging up. “Wha—what happened?”
“You were pretty beat up,” Jimin said slowly. “Do you remember anything?”
“I—had a date.”
“A date?” Yoongi said as Namjoon said,
“Oh, a date.”
“With who?” Jimin asked, but the boy on the bed just frowned.
“I—don’t remember. Who—who are you?”
“I’m Jimin,” Jimin said with a hand on his heart before he pointed to everyone in the room to introduce them.
“Pay no attention to them,” Seokjin said when Jimin introduced Namjoon and Taehyung. “They don’t live here.”
“We live next door in a far superior mansion,” Taehyung said proudly.
“I—I’m sorry to bother you,” the boy said. “I—should go.”
“You definitely need to rest. Don’t worry,” Jimin said. “You can go in the morning if you feel better.”
“I’ll be fine,” the boy said, though he groaned as he scooted off the bed a little. “Whose bed is this? I’m sorry.” Yoongi just raised his hand but shook his head.
“We have an empty bed at our place,” Taehyung smiled. “You wouldn’t bother anyone there.”
“He should stay here,” Seokjin said. “We have nicer beds.”
“He should come with us,” Taehyung combated.
“He should stay with the nurse, obviously.”
“He should go where he wants, obviously,” Taehyung said as he waved his hand at the boy. “I’ll even help you go home, if you want. Who do you want to stay with?”
“Stop treating him like he’s some lost puppy,” Namjoon muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Let him decide for himself.” The boy looked around at all of them, though his eyes came back to Namjoon’s after a moment. Taehyung knew that look. While he didn’t understand it, as he saw Namjoon’s hairy thighs on a daily basis, he did know the power thighs could have on certain eyes. He was about to point it out when Seokjin rolled another die and failed spectacularly.
“We could rock, paper, scissors for him.”
“Again, he’s not a dog,” Namjoon huffed.
“Could I—come with you?” the boy said, his eyes on Namjoon who startled and dropped his arms and then nodded.
“S-sure, yeah, I can carry you.”
“Oh, I can—” the boy said as he stood up, though he immediately wobbled. “Oh my god, what happened to me? I feel like shit.”
“Look, I’m not sure if I licked him enough,” Seokjin said.
“You licked him?” Taehyung gasped.
“You licked me?” the boy gaped.
“It helped with the healing,” Seokjin said with a dismissive hand wave. “But you shouldn’t take him away. He might need me to lick him again.”
“Come with us, you poor child,” Taehyung said, his hand reaching out to guide the boy out of the room. “We promise not to lick you in our house. God, you’re such a creep, Seokjin.”
“What? If you have a booboo, I can lick you, too.”
“Hurry, Namjoon, take the boy and run,” Taehyung shouted. “I’ll hold them off!”
“With your tongue?” Seokjin grinned as he stuck his own out.
“On second thought, every man for himself,” Taehyung said as he scurried to the hallway. Having a dog in the house wasn’t allowed, but Taehyung had always wanted a pet. He was pretty excited, as Namjoon helped the boy out of the room and down the stairs, about getting one of his own finally. Smiling sweetly at the three grumpy loser pusses following after them all the way to the doorway, Taehyung pranced down the stairs and over to his superior house with a new puppy in-tow.
A door slamming politely in one’s face sounded like an oxymoron, but that’s exactly what Namjoon did to Taehyung as soon as they got the boy upstairs. Only huffing a little, but not really up for cleaning any puke up, Taehyung scurried off to his room and stared out the window, waiting for Seokjin to find his new makeup.
“Sorry about everyone,” Namjoon mumbled as he helped the boy sit down on the bed opposite his no one used anymore. “Everyone’s a bit intense.”
“They seem nice. Lively. You must be good friends.”
“Uh,” Namjoon scratched the back of his head. “More like mortal enemies, but okay. Let me get you some water. You okay for a minute?”
“Yeah,” the boy nodded as he looked around the room.
“Sorry, it’s not super clean,” Namjoon muttered as he picked up his jeans slung over the back of his chair.
“Are you kidding? This is super cool.”
“Thanks. Be right back,” Namjoon said before hurrying out of the door. He shut it softly behind him and took a deep breath, though, because he could not believe this was happening.
He also had no idea if he should tell the guy he knew he was GoldenCloset and was a huge fan. He started to run the scenarios as he got the boy and himself some water, his head shaking the whole time.
“I’m a huge fan. I’ve watched all of your videos.”
“Oh my god, you’ve kidnapped me!”—Jungkook crashes out of the window and plummets to his death.
“I was wondering if I could get an autograph.”
“Oh, sure. You’re a fan?”
“Oh, huge. I’m a little in love with you.”
“Oh. Uh.”—Jungkook stabs Namjoon with the pen to defend himself.
“I’ve seen all your videos! You’re so cool! And hot! So much hotter in person!”
“Oh, thank you, hehe, you’re hot, too, you want to make out?”—Namjoon needed to throw himself out a window.
Taking a deep breath, Namjoon went back into his room determined to say nothing to avoid any mistakes.
“Thanks,” the boy said as he took the glass from him. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. Jeon Jungkook.”
“Oh,” Namjoon blinked, all of his ideas coming back to him and flying out the window at the same time, even if the only sound was a little breath he sucked in. “Namjoon,” he stuck out his hand and shook the boy’s—shook GoldenCloset’s—shook Jungkook’s hand. The name fit him perfectly. It sounded soft, somehow, but the hard K sounds were strong. Cool. He was definitely as cool as Namjoon had thought he would be.
“I remember. You really don’t mind that I crash here?”
“I really don’t. No one uses that bed anymore,” Namjoon said as he sat down on his own after pulling back his green comforter.
“Cool—thanks for helping me out. I promise to get out your hair ASAP in the morning. I just—I’m pretty embarrassed. I don’t drink, so I don’t know what I did to end up like this,” the boy—Jungkook laughed a little, and Namjoon had to clear his throat and swing his legs into bed to avoid having his cheeks burn when he saw Jungkook blush a little. At least it gave the boy a bit of color. He had never and would never stick his teeth into a human unless he somehow met someone he wanted to marry who was cool with it. But that would never happen with him. He was either going to be single forever or win back his first love. Rolling his eyes at himself and sighing, he cleared his throat again and picked up his book from his desk.
“Don’t even worry about it. As long as you’re safe.”
“Do you have people crash here a lot? As a frat house and all?” Jungkook said as he laid down slowly, his body curling up under the thin mattress as he faced Namjoon.
“Oh, uh, well, we don’t really drink much, to be honest. We’re—not your typical frat.”
“Oh? How so?”
“Uh. We’re—we seek to sate our immature beastly natures in other ways.”
“Huh?”
“I mean instead of getting drunk and making dumb decisions, we just make dumb decisions,” Namjoon shrugged, smiling a little when Jungkook did. The boy had the tiniest curls around his ears and these stud earrings that might as well be the spotlight in a lighthouse guiding the way right to his cute face. “Anyway, let me know if you need anything. Do you mind if I study?”
“Not at all, sorry for bothering you. I definitely want to sleep.”
“Cool, sleep well,” Namjoon said, no pages turning for several minutes as the room went quiet. He looked over a couple of times to see the boy’s eyes were closed. He sometimes stared at that side of the room and saw someone when he knew they weren’t there. That was just an old habit. Jungkook didn’t look anything like that boy did, though. And yet Namjoon knew looking for too long would be a mistake. So he did try to read, his head perking up when he heard some yells from next door. Figuring Seokjin had found the clown painting, Namjoon shook his head and did concentrate for a good while. His eyes were starting to droop when he heard another noise at his window. Knowing Seokjin was probably already retaliating by throwing old dumplings at them or something, he got out of bed slowly and shuffled to the window to peek around it carefully.
“Jesus, fuck,” he hissed when he saw the black bat thudding against the glass. “Absolutely not. Go away!” The bat continued, though, and then sat on the seal with its hands on its hips—that wasn’t possible, but Namjoon could see it, nonetheless—and tilted its head at him. “Okay, okay, god, one second.” Making sure Jungkook was still asleep, Namjoon rummaged through his closet for a robe he didn’t use anymore. Opening up the window slowly, he held the robe out and turned his head toward Jungkook as the bat came in.
“Shit, it’s cold,” Yoongi’s voice rumbled as the robe left Namjoon’s hands and the window clicked.
“Maybe if you came through the front door with clothes on, you wouldn’t be cold,” Namjoon mumbled as he crossed his arms and stepped toward Jungkook’s bed. “What do you want?”
“We have to talk about him.”
“Do we?” Namjoon asked. “I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation.”
“Namjoon,” Yoongi sighed as he mirrored his stance, though he looked a little more annoyed than angry. He always looked like that, and something about it just made Namjoon madder.
“It’s late, so get to your point.”
“He was bitten.”
“Obviously. Are you ready to tell me by who?”
“I don’t know. We found him like that.”
“Right.”
“Someone—it was multiple people, Namjoon. They left him to die.”
“Right,” Namjoon said, though his voice had dropped as his arms did, too.
“So if you can stop caring about fucking winning for a second, and listen to me—”
“I’m listening.”
“You need to be careful.”
“What?”
“He may wake up tomorrow totally fine. Groggy, dizzy, okay, his blood will come back. He’ll go back to his dorm and probably back to his normal life, and you’ll go back to staring at him on your little screen with your hand down your pants—”
“Hey, fuck you,” Namjoon said as he threw a finger toward Yoongi. “Like you don’t do the same now.”
“Only because I’m single. I’d never cheat on anyone,” Yoongi shrugged.
“Look, if you came here to—”
“The other option,” Yoongi said with his eyes narrowing, “is he wakes up and isn’t normal. He wakes up turned.”
“Tu—turned? No way.”
“I have no idea who bit him, Namjoon. It is possible.”
“Yeah, but—that’s not allowed.”
“It’s not like we have laws against it,” Yoongi snorted dismissively. “No one even knows we exist, Namjoon.”
“Which is why we shouldn’t be turning people.”
“No shit.”
“But—only some people can. We don’t know—”
“Exactly. I don’t know how many people bit him, and I don’t know who did. They may not even know.” Namjoon frowned, suddenly deeply unsettled. He knew Jungkook was probably going to get up in the morning and leave. And Namjoon would go back to just watching him on his screen. He knew that. He hadn’t even thought about him turning. He wasn’t even sure what that would mean. But he did know there wouldn’t be a way of knowing for a few days. And while he would never forgive whoever did this to the boy, he had to acknowledge the person didn’t necessarily know exactly what they were doing.
Vampire powers were more like gifts one was just naturally born with. If they weren’t honed, however, they wouldn’t be strong. That was one reason why Namjoon had tried so many things growing up to see what his might be. Having his parents acknowledge that their son just might not be special was devastating for him, but he really didn’t seem to have any power. Sure, he hadn’t tried jumping from a high surface to see if he could fly or turn into a bat, but he wasn’t Taehyung level of dumb enough to.
“What should I do if—” Namjoon started, but Yoongi shook his head.
“He won’t show any signs for a few days if it happens. I just thought you should know. Since I know you’ll be stalking him.”
“I don’t stalk—look, if you—”
The window was opened, and a cold blast of air made Namjoon freeze, but so did the robe suddenly dropped to his floor as Yoongi turned around. Yoongi had one hand and knee on the windowsill before he transformed, and Namjoon scowled as he snatched up the robe and locked the window behind the guy. He watched the small bat glide back into its window and then Yoongi’s pale skin appeared again. He waved back at Namjoon and then gave him a middle finger which had Namjoon rolling his eyes and slumping back to his bed with a huff.
As much as he hated to admit it, though, Yoongi was right.
He usually was.
Jungkook was already gone by the time Namjoon woke up. A note on his desk had a scribbled thank you was something Namjoon’s groggy head wanted to frame, but instead he sat on his bed staring at the empty one across from it. It was made for the first time in over a year. And while Namjoon knew Jungkook was going to leave, he felt his chest twinge like it had the last time the bed’s previous occupant had left for the last time.
Clearing his throat and taking Jungkook’s water cup to the kitchen, Namjoon did what he did best, though: He thought about something else. Mainly, his classes, sure, but also whatever Taehyung’s plight of the day would be. And later, when GC made a video, he would snuggle into his chair by the window or curl up under his covers and watch it. Because it was just going to be another normal day like nothing special had happened at all.
