fides

lee kyuhwan // 990630 // fledgling there is no life without trust. ©

[feykyuhwan]

surprise, surprise

feyxmitsuki​:

suki doesn’t let out a breath at the boy’s answer, she has far too much practice at holding reactions like that back, but she’s relieved regardless. the man was a good asset and she would have been disappointed in him, disappointed and angry that he turned out like every other man she’s had the pleasure of ending. he’d always been decent to her, asked her if she was doing okay and checking in on her during days when the rain was so bad it was up to her ankles, past her designer pumps. he was sweet and honestly she’d be a bit hurt if it had come down to it.

the boy in front of her, whose name she has yet to catch, looks anxious and she can’t tell if it’s the thirst or her presence, perhaps a bit of both. she’d think his incomplete way of talking cute if she weren’t concerned he was gonna lose it to his hunger.

there are less students outside, the chill seeping down into sweaters and jackets preventing anyone from loitering about. she’s familiar enough with the campus to know some less-known spots so she leads him off down the side of another campus building. 

there’s no other way to solve the kid’s problem so suki reaches into the purse at her side as they come to a stop. “here,” she says simply, holding out a tightly sealed cranberry juice bottle. she doesn’t always carry spare blood around, not wanting to chance spillage in her purses, but she wasn’t sure if kangho would still be in his office today so it was a precaution to disappointment. “it’ll help a bit, at least until you get home– I assume you have an arrangement at home?”

she surveys the surrounding building after handing off the bottle, keeping a loot out for wandering eyes, but there’s nothing to see for now. “I am not a professor here,” she starts, pauses and considers her words. “I’m not his wife either, but you don’t have to worry about him disappearing. We have something of an agreement.” a moment passes and suki looks back over. “are you doing any better?”

he follows her outside, in spite of his better judgment, and in spite of his instinctive reluctance to greet the outdoors; he is always wary of leaving buildings after his classes, especially as winter peaks and then dwindles, always leaving the chance for sunlight to still be lingering between the clouds, threatening the ironically paper skin of an immortal. 

she seems kind, but she is still a stranger, and he has already learned by now that the more centuries a stranger has lived through, the less humanity they have taken with them along the way. 

the fresh, crisp air is a welcome reprieve from the circulated air of the university’s hallways. there are less warm bodies out here, and the space is not enclosed. he breathes freely, takes a deep, heady breath of winter air in through his nose, lets it out through his mouth in a modest puff of undead air. he smells the pavement, the bricks of the buildings nearby, the remnants of the sun on manicured patches of grass, the lingering threat of falling moisture in the air. there is still the faint seasoning of human, of blood and beating heart, but it is not nearly as overwhelming, as intoxicating, as it was indoors.

he doesn’t eye the bottle warily long enough, nearly dropping his textbook in his eagerness to accept it, to unscrew the lid. he drinks from it with all the fervor of a starving child, gulps it down, feels stray drops pooling in the corners of his mouth as the lukewarm liquid slides heavily down his throat. already the ache behind his fangs begins to dwindle, his own fake heartbeat less loud in his ears. he grips the bottle tighter, as if it’s squirming, stubborn prey that might try to bolt away from him at any moment. it is only seconds before he’s emptied the contents of the bottle entirely. then he replaces the lid as he comes to, humanity reappearing behind his eyes, sheepishness casting a shadow over them as he hands the vessel back to its owner.

“i’m sorry,” he utters shamefully without making eye contact, reaching up to wipe the corners of his mouth with the pad of his thumb, “i didn’t mean to finish it all.”

she was speaking to him while he drank, but he can’t remember what she said, realizing only too late that he certainly wasn’t listening. 

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes again, but this time less guilty and more tentatively, respectfully curious, in response to the snippets of her solo conversation that he can remember, “who are you?”

[feykyuhwan]

surprise, surprise

feyxmitsuki​:

when she first took in the scent of another vampire, she was not expecting the kid standing in front of her. she wouldn’t describe him as baby-faced or anything but she could almost smell the youth clinging to him. looks could be deceiving though, she knew that from experience so she held her place as he noticed her.

a student. it wasn’t anything new to her to see others of her kind seamlessly blending in with the human population, but to see such a young vampire in a school setting was intriguing. she’s wasn’t even sure it was something she could pull off at her age. 

she takes him in as he bows to her, doing a quick assessment. he was taller but obviously younger, wary of her appearance, didn’t smell of blood– nor did the room he exited from smell of it. so this wasn’t a front, not a play at being a student to get convenient access to fresh blood. he wasn’t pulling a stunt like her. he did look thirsty from his body language so she didn’t completely let her guard down, but she also wasn’t as defensive as when she thought he may have drained dry her friend, his professor.

“has he told the class anything about his wife?” she wills her anger to stay at a simmer instead of boil, masking the fire under a calming smile. he could just be asking– it could mean nothing but speculuation. if there is a mrs. han, her plans for the night will have drastically changed. oh, she’ll get her purse from him but that will be the last thing he buys for her, or anyone else. “you seem sweet, you can tell me if he’s said anything before, good or bad!” 

it’s hard not to wince as another group of kids pass the two of them but she holds off and watches the boy in front of her for any trouble. 

“how about we move this outside,” she holds a hand out to the exit at the end of the hallway they’re stationed in. “I don’t know about you but I’d love some fresh air. I hope I’m not keeping you from another class…?” she tilts her head to prompt him for his name. 

he’s had run-ins with touch master vampires in the past, with older vampires who look at the young and see durable prey, immortal playthings. but he has also met centuries-old vampires who are kind-hearted and curious, who are much happier to mentor the young and lead them into eternity with a helping hand. either way, kyuhwan can only hope he hasn’t offended this vampire, regardless of which category he falls into. he can only be so wary when he is so conscious of his thirst, as if there is little room in him for human emotions when his base bloodsucking needs are so loud. 

“um...” he has to think, and think he does, admittedly too much: there is no way to answer this question that does not put him in an awkward spot. and there is no way to answer this question that does not spark his own curiosity. are they married? if they are, does professor han know he’s married to an eternal? is that why he’s never brought her up in class, or in his office hours? "i don’t...think so. i just thought...i mean, i assumed...”

he bows again suddenly, a smaller, apologetic incline of his head, “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have...it’s just- you don’t look like...” he can feels his cheeks turning red with what little blood supply he has to spare, mortified by his own loquaciousness only digging him further and further into a social grave.

“i-...” he needs something to drink, badly. he can feel that fact eating into his thought process now, turning his normally sharp mind into a clumsy, unreadable jumble, “i’m sorry...professor?” he guesses politely, formally, hoping he’s closer to reality this time.

she offers to escort him outside, and he can’t agree quicker, nodding his head quickly and hugging his hefty biology textbooks to his chest a little snugger, a safety blanket, an anchor to humanity.

“yes- thank you. i mean- no- i’m not...i mean i’m done for the day. i can...air. i’d like that.”

[feykyuhwan]

golden.

@feysuji

it took much, much convincing, from every direction he turned to, for him to decide to stay in school. he’d fallen into a sinking depression over it for weeks, certain his unwanted immortality had jeopardized his medical career, at least for the next half century or so. he could barely patch up a human’s paper cut without wanting to eat them first, how could he be expected to get through his shadowings of doctors and surgeons, a residency, a fellowship, surrounded by injured, bleeding, beating-heart humans? humans who were so fragile it was a miracle any of them survived to be sixty, seventy, eighty, let alone a hundred. humans who were rolled into emergency rooms every day leaking life force and fighting death. he’d taken a bite of his friend, a bitter-blooded witch, for less, for scraping his knee like a careless child on a playground.

finish your degree at least, seoyun had insisted, a worried classmate, an unlikely friend and ally found in a hunter trained to kill lost vampires like kyuhwan. at least when kyuhwan had agreed to try, that painful look in kijung’s eyes seemed to fade, just a little. it was in kyuhwan’s nature to feel guilty for it, for upsetting his best friend, for worrying him with his own grief, even if it was that same best friend who had singlehandedly brought him this grief in the first place.

and so, though kyuhwan still saw no point in it, he worked, still, toward his undergraduate degree, packing his bag with more thermoses of blood every day, holding his breath through crowded lectures, focusing on monotonous professorial speeches instead of the living, breathing hearts pulsing all around him.

libraries are harder, because libraries are otherwise so quiet. there is only the scribbling of pencils and the turning of pages to interrupt the symphony of blood pumps filling the aisles. he’s gotten better at distinguishing them from each other: the slow and steady pulse of a focused, relaxed studier versus the fluttering, erratic heartbeat of a student running on caffeine and sheer willpower alone versus the even, percussive heartrate of an adolescent fast asleep on the pages of a textbook they were meant to be reading. but he’s gotten no better at drowning them out, keen, supernatural ears locking on and geolocating each and every one like a radar ingrained into his instinctive psyche. so he relies on music, slipping paganini or vivaldi or bach into his ears and hoping the very human beats around him fade into the background.

he can hear, and smell, one of those beats growing closer to him as he peruses an aisle for yet another book of medical abstracts, this one osteology-centric. he holds his breath and keeps his gaze trained forward, fingers hovering over the spines of the books before landing on the title he’s looking for, and grazing the hand of another, reaching for the same book.

“ah-” he starts to bow his head apologetically automatically, “i’m sorry-”

he turns to let his peer take the book first, pausing when he lays eyes on her face. she is petite, and terribly pretty, hair dyed golden in a way that makes her stand out from the muted tones of the library’s aisle, which she must be in because she’s intelligent and ambitious like the rest of the pre-med students around here, and he immediately knows she is far too immaculate to speak with the likes of him.

“i- i’m sorry,” he apologizes again, this time for blemishing her presence with his own, gesturing to the book on the shelf and stepping back from it to give her a respectful amount of space, “please.”

[feykyuhwan]

feydonghyun​:

it’s always so much fun getting to show someone new the garden. for donghyun, this is actually a rare occurrence. having been home schooled, the witch never had much of a chance to form connections like friendships. sure, he has the other witches, the kids of people his father is friends with, and he’s always had hyunwoo. but friends his own age are rare–still are, considering kyuhwan is older than him still. 

but friends in general is nice. though donghyun enjoys his life how it is, he is also someone who likes people in general. and making friends falls into that category! and now he gets to show a friend the garden! his favorite place! it really does make him all kinds of excited. the teen who is normally rather calm almost bouncing in place as he shows off the newest plants in the sanctuary. 

a giggle bubbles in his throat at kyuhwans explanation of what he expects of cacti. “you look silly doing that.” he replies, but then he’s moving swiftly and with ease of someone who spends many hours up here. “we actually have one like that! he’s pretty small though but his arm do that.” he’s explaining as he grabs a pot which was a bit father on the roof. set out to get the most sun during the day.  

if it were up to donghyun he would spend all night up here with the older and show him every plant they have. which would probably take all night. though he knows his dad would never let him pull and all-nighter. 

“see, his arms are all bendy and posed funny.” he holds the pot in one hand to point out the way the cactus has positioned itself in its growth. and like all things when it’s donghyun involved. he gets a little over eager in his movements, the teens foot hitting the corner of one of the bigger plant boxes and jerking his balance. in an attmept to save the plant in his hold he ends up letting gravity take him down. unfortunatly he didn’t realize how close he actually was to the plant box and a hiss of pain leaves the teen as the corner of the box scraps up his forearm.

“aahh, ow..” red builds up and slipes down his arm as he gently sets the plant to the side and twists his arm to see the damange. not the first time he’s gottne hurt up here and most likely not the last.

“ah, really?” he smiles bashfully then. it is, like all his smiles are recently, tentative, reluctant, as if he’s afraid to smile, as if he’s wary of showing his fangs off, even to those who know they exist, as if he isn’t sure he deserves to smile the way he used to anymore, because in every smile there lies the physical reminder of the monster he is constantly, eternally keeping at bay.

he lets his arms down from his self-conscious cactus impersonation, letting donghyun lead him further into the greenhouse, to a plant resembling the one he was just posing as. it’s a small-looking thing, much smaller than the ones kyuhwan had seen in movies and cartoons, small enough even to fit into a pot that fits in donghyun’s hands. kyuhwan finds the modestly sized cactus rather charming in its diminutiveness, even manages a small, albeit close-lipped, smile for the plant.

“he’s cute,” he compliments, taking on donghyun’s use of personifying pronouns for the cactus, “will he get any bigg-”

he’s cut off by his companion’s stumbling clumsily, and reaches out, attempting to at least soften his fall. kyuhwan isn’t nearly as successful as he’d like to be, vampiric reflexes not nearly as honed as they might be in someone more experienced than he, but he does end up kneeling on the ground with donghyun to make sure he isn’t too badly hurt, the careful instincts of a keen medical student kicking in.

“are you-”

he smells it before he sees it, but he can visualize it in his mind’s eye without having to see it: deep red and warm; fresh from the source, which is a heart beating rapidly in response to such an unfortunate fall-

he can’t stop himself. their proximity is too close and he already has a hand on donghyun’s back, initially placed there out of friendly concern. the bitter hint of witch is nothing to deter the greedy fledgling hidden behind kyuhwan’s soft gaze and softer demeanor, and there is only a moment and a half of pause before the vampire, pupils wide and nostrils flaring, is grabbing donghyun’s bleeding arm and sinking his fangs into his wrist.

[feykyuhwan]

feytaeyoon​:

he moves around as if he has been here before, as if he belongs here or something which is funny ( to probably no one but himself ) as he legally shouldn’t be here. it’s not a club though and no one has stopped to ask him for some proof that he’s a student here or even allowed to consume the drinks that line the counters in a poor attempt to recreate a bar. the cheap liquor and bad choices of mixers some of which have been knocked over and their contents rest on the counter and the floor. 

it’s a nice scene. not so much nice in the way someone would assume nice would mean, but nice in the way it’s familiar. something taeyoon has become use to. he knows he shouldn’t have. knows he should be anywhere else but the crowded university party with some random dude who looks like he rather be in a library or garden. 

but it’s all easier this way and no, he won’t elaborate on what’s easier. no reason to unpack his whole trauma right now. not when he doesn’t even have a buzz going. instead he just turns back to his new found friend, a smile on his face that isn’t exactly friendly looking but it’s not mean either. 

a feat taeyoon has become proficient at. 

“i tend to grab whatever and call it good.” he replies with a shrug, grabbing two fresh empty cups and handing one to the other guy which now reminds him of something. “i’m taeyoon, kim taeyoon. forgot introductions are a thing.” a breathily laugh leaves him. “do you want something stronger or do you want to be able to walk home in a straight line?” seems like a reasonable enough question. 

cw: mentions of alcohol

“ah,” of course someone who is used to these events, who frequents them with all the practiced ease of any normal, socially apt adolescent, would be so nonchalant about his drink of choice, leaving kyuhwan to hover awkwardly over a counter full of bottles, with no inkling of what to do next, “of course.”

it doesn’t help that he has no idea what any of it tastes like, which is only made worse by the fact that he’ll never know what any of it tastes like. so he resorts to what heightened senses he can use in this situation, carefully pulls a cloudy green bottle from the collection and uncaps it to take a whiff. whatever it is, it smells awful, stinging the back of his throat and making him grimace the same way the fresh chemicals of his pre-med education do. under the striking, pungent scent of alcohol is a hint of melon, but it isn’t nearly enough to convince kyuhwan the bottle holds anything any normal person would find good.

when he sets the bottle down, capped tightly and slipped back into its slot int he horde, he turns to the sight of his new acquaintance, taeyoon, holding two cups, one offered to him. he smiles, politely, mumbles a small thank you, and takes the cup, internally beginning to panic. kijung never gave him any lessons on how to blend in at collegiate house parties when the group binge drinking starts. of course he didn’t, how could he?

“lee kyuhwan,” he offers in return, grasping the empty cup with both hands, a tether to a desperately falsified humanity.

“um,” he turns to glance over his shoulder again at the collection of beverage options, still no wiser about them than he was a minute ago, before turning back to taeyoon with a sheepish chuckle, “truthfully, i don’t drink much,” he thinks back to the time he spent in a sadistic neighbor’s apartment, fed the contents of a werewolf’s veins without his knowledge, in exchange for his life, his stomach sloshing with more werewolf blood than he should’ve been able to drink, the room spinning around him as kijung helped him across the hall. he adds, a beat later, cheeks tinting pink at the unexpected memory, “or at all.”

[feykyuhwan]

do you resent kijung for turning you into a vampire?

honesty hour // status: accepting !

the question hits him harder than it should, would snatch all the air from his lungs if he still needed to breathe. 

there was a time when kyuhwan was certain the answer was no, that he was certainly upset with kijung for going through with such a drastic change without consulting him, for changing his life forever in the snap of a neck, but not resentful, never resentful.

but now that he has spent the first year of his death hiding in shadow, shielded from everything warm and kind in the world: the summer sun, the hugs of his parents, a fresh plate of his mother’s cooking, he has learned resentment. 

“i...” he is subdued, uncharacteristically, sunken into a gloom brought on by the loss of his hopes and dreams to the crushing, parasitic pressure of eternity, “i wanted to be a doctor... but i don’t think...”

he thinks back to his first shadowing trip, the overwhelming mixing scents of open wounds and chilled blood packs and the rapidfire hearts of newborn infants pumping with untainted bloodstreams. he could feel his humanity dwindling rapidly in that moment, felt the ache in his gums as the monster inside of him told him to do it, to feast on the buffet of vulnerable humans hidden behind every door in the building. 

“i wanted to be a dad-”

he can’t do that either. it was another crushing realization, as mei explained the rules of the vampire world. it isn’t that he’s incapable, but that he is forbidden, that any progeny he begets would be wiped out in the blink of an eye by his newfound immortal superiors. and there is the glaring reality that he wouldn’t trust himself alone in a room with any human long enough to fall in love, because he would likely sink his teeth into her before he could.

“i-” something catches in his throat, and it isn’t the thirst, not this time. it’s grief, it’s oncoming devastation, the fact that speaking this new reality out loud makes it tangible and raw.

“i don’t know who i am anymore,” it’s spoken in almost a whisper, through the watery gleam in his eyes, through the fear he is losing his humanity to an eternity he didn’t ask for, through the horror that this will never go away, will only lessen as time goes on, “i don’t know what i’m supposed to do.”

there is something new welling up in him, something not warm, but somehow hot. he’ll recognize it later as anger, a rare emotion for kyuhwan, who is so used to sadness instead.

“i wish he’d just asked me-” but he stops short, because he knows he would have said no. if he’d had a choice, he would’ve taken the chance at life, at real life, at a valuable century of accomplishment and altruism and family and love and maturity. because now he is stuck in a world of darkness, a cerebrally underdeveloped adolescent for eternity. even the sun itself ages, even the ground under his feet ages, even the core of the earth ages, all toward oblivion, and yet he is stuck in permanence, an unnatural anomaly in a universe where everything else can look forward to its inevitable end.

then he sniffs, still unable to admit resentment out loud, because he has nothing else in the world but his love for his best friend. the best friend who looked him in the eye and put his hands on his head and snapped his neck without warning. 

he says again, quietly this time, resigned, gaze downcast, “i wish he’d just asked me.”

[feyevents]

it’s time for honesty hour! for this meme, you’ll be sending and receiving questions to help develop your characters. you’ll have to answer in character, and yes, your characters must be honest. these questions can be about anything, but try to keep development in mind! to let members know that you’d like to receive asks in your inbox for this meme, please reblog this post. and remember “rp karma”; the more questions you send out to your fellow members, the more you’re likely to receive!

this meme may be reblogged for the next two weeks, until december 17th at 11:59pm. after this time, this post is no longer permitted to be reblogged and no new honesty hour questions may be sent to inboxes. responses may be posted at any time, including after the deadline.

as long as your meme answers for the week add up to more than 250 words altogether, they may count as activity, but only until the december 17th activity check. responses posted after that time will not be sufficient to pass an activity check.

[park-serims]

SERIM CUT - “FLAME” PHOTOSHOOT

[feykyuhwan]

feydonghyun​:

( night-blooming accident )

@feykyuhwan

the late afternoon turns to evening as the sun is lose behind the horizon slowly but surely. allowing for an excited donghyun to lead his friend up from his home to the garden on the roof. the plus side of owning this whole building ( the bottom of it being the flower shop ) is that he was given free reign from his father to do with the roof as he pleases. the flower garden had already been started by his great grandfather who initially opened the flower shop, and now run by his own father. 

donghyun looks forward to the day he will take over fully for his dad but for now he enjoys his time tending to the garden and helping people find the flowers they are looking for. or even getting to show someone the beauty of his special place. the magic the dances around the room from how often he is here tending to it. 

“hyung hyung, come look! these are new.” he’s taking hold of kyuhwan’s hand once they make it to the roof, gentle but insistently tugging the older to the flower pots sitting outside the main greenhouse area. “theyre called night-blooming cereus and my dad just had them shipped in. these only bloom closer to dawn–if you stay here tonight then i can show you!” his voice is excited as he talks about the new cactus flower.

it’s bittersweet, this invited trip to donghyun’s family greenhouse. he can imagine what the rooftop might look like during the day: bright greens of leaves lit up by an even brighter sun; the interior of the greenhouse warm and humid, even when the air outside is crisp and chilled; the yellows and reds and pinks and purples of year-round perennials vibrant in the light; his face, tinted pink from the cold then kissed lightly by the sun, the way donghyun’s is, the way his used to be in the spring.

but the sun sank below the horizon hours ago - it’s the only way kyuhwan can see the greenhouse, can set foot outside. he wonders if the sun will look or feel any different half a century from now, when he might finally be able to set foot underneath it again, when he doesn’t have to rely on the moon’s steady filter to keep from turning to ash. the only light up here is artificial and cold, attracting all manner of nocturnal insects that flit in and out of kyuhwan’s peripheral vision like erratic fairies in the night.

he smiles at donghyun in spite of his internal melancholy, happy to have a friend so willing to share this with him. and there is something to said about his supernatural sense of smell here: if he focuses right he can pick out certain herbs and flowers from the punch just by tasting the air. and the plants are almost fragrant enough to mask the scent of donghyun’s very warm, very lively heart pumping blood through his system eighty times a minute. 

“ah, what a weird-looking cactus,” he observed fondly, chuckling as he takes in the sight of its stiff, draping tendrils, “i always thought cactus plants stood up like this,” he adds, holding his arms up bent at the elbow in a quick impression of a cartoonish saguaro cactus.

[feykyuhwan]

feyxmitsuki​:

surprise, surprise

@feykyuhwan

The feeling of boredom is odd to her. Usually she would entertain herself with her vengeful traipses through the alleyways around the city, but the sky is still light. If she wants to stay under the radar, she’ll wait at least until night is calmly edging the sky before picking any targets. And really, she does have so much fun those nights.

Her boredom has found her at one of four current humans she’s roped into a torrid affair. This one is more relaxed than the others, a nice change from the business men she usually seduces. Despite the fact that he’s a professor, she’s sure he’s the object of many a cute fantasy from his students, he’s still a man. 

So tragic.

She knows his schedule well enough, figures out when he has clubs and texts him cutesy messages when he’s not and she’s on her way to visit. Today is as much of a surprise to her as it will be to him and she’s counting on it being a good one. There’s a cute new purse on pre-release and she just has to have it, on his card of course.

The campus is familiar and mostly she walks through it on instinct, trying not to pay attention to the cloyingly sweet stench that surrounds her. The students here weren’t her first choice and most of them still had promising lives ahead of them, she wouldn’t want to interfere.

His office sits in one of the wings that’s bustling with kids hopped up on energy boosters and that haven’t had a decent meal in days. She passes them easily in her willful zoned out state. She almost misses it when she goes for the doorknob. She almost misses it through the smell of all the other students. It’s another supernatural, she’s sure, but she spends another moment double-checking her senses. She’s not sure why there’d be a vamp in with her pseudo-sugar father but she’s also not going to rush into a potentially volatile situation. She’s encountered many territorial vamps in the middle of feeding and she’s not in the mood for a scene; if she needs to find a new benefactor, she will.

She waits just off from the door, not hidden but also not right at the doorframe. She doesn’t have to wait long for the sounds of shuffling and a door opening to drift down her way. It’s then that she pulls herself into the fluorescents of the hall with a scowl. She can’t smell any fresh blood but she’s still slightly paranoid.

“Who are you?”

he’s fond of this professor - the man is kind enough, but shrewd and professional, always quick and to the point in his lectures, which can sometimes make them a little hard to keep up with, especially to kyuhwan, who is meticulous in his note-taking, and yet can’t read some of his scribbles because of his hasty, desperate need to take everything down. but professor han is much more patient in office hours, he’s found, is less icy and much more humorous, and eager, he tells kyuhwan, about getting to know his most enthusiastic students. 

apparently his office hours are rarely used to their maximum, most students intimidated out of it by his cold, unforgiving TAs and the difficulty of organic chemistry itself. so kyuhwan somehow scores an entire hour to himself, walking through his future plans once they’ve exhausted the review of this week’s enzyme and chromosome lists.

kyuhwan may have stayed until professor han kicked him out were it not for the thirst - it’s nice to talk about the things that fascinate him with someone who might actually be more fascinated about them than he, and it’s been a while since he’s had deep conversation with a human mentor, a deep conversation that isn’t about bloodlust or hunters or how to avoid the sun. for an hour, he feels more human than he has in months. but there is always the thirst, and he’s long since consumed the contents of his thermos; the dull ache in his gums is warning enough, and he reluctantly excuses himself from the professor’s office, promising to return next week with even more questions than before.

it’s why he is smiling as he’s bowing his thanks and his polite departure toward his professor, exiting the room back first before closing the door gently once he’s fully clear of it.

who are you?

it’s not the voice that pulls him out of his tired reverie, but the smell, the waft of top shelf perfume barely masking centuries of immortality greeting him when a trio of very human students passes by, pushing the current of vampire-fragrant air right at him. she carries that inherent air of authority that brings out the instinctive urge to run or obey or both that he has yet to grow out of, freezing him to the spot. is it fear? perhaps. the thirst makes his paranoia that much worse, which is less than ideal while he stands trapped in this narrow passageway crawling with rapidly beating hearts.

“i’m a student here,” he utters politely, before bowing to her in greeting, as would be customary even if they were both simply human strangers, based on their apparent difference in age and stature, “are you...professor han’s wife?”

[feykyuhwan]

feytaeyoon​:

he can tell instantly that he has made this guy uncomfortable not that it’s any different from what taeyoon normally does, as he is rather good at making people uncomfortable with out meaning too. he’s a blunt kind of guy, saying the first things that come to mind and not carrying for the after effects of what he said. not normally. but unlike most situations he wasn’t actively trying to upset this new guy–in fact he was kind of hoping to befriend him. maybe. taeyoon has never been the make friends easily person. case in point he only really has like… two…. right now. and one of them he isn’t even really sure he counts as a friend. 

but alas.. here he is now, so he might as well try to be nice for once and not instantly put his own foot in his mouth. 

“it’s not that it’s extremely obvious– i mean, plenty of people here look like they belong else where–it was just the vibe.” he explains, hands moving in vague gestures as he tries to keep up his expression more open and friendly. he tends to be on the emotional side of life so it’s not hard for him to express this. but he also tends to be kind of mean and that’s not what he wants right now. then again something about this other guy makes taeyoon want to be nice to him. even if he’s like pretty sure this guy is going to end up being older than him considering of everyone, taeyoon is the one who shouldn’t be here. 

“what brings you to this one?” he questions only to quickly follow up with “lets go to the kitchen, it’s a little calmer and we can get a drink.” his smile only grows, head nodding in the direction of the kitchen. hoping it would help this guy calm down. 

“the...vibe?” his eyes dart down to travel the same path the stranger’s hand has made, looking for any indication of this vibe in question. he thinks, for a split second, that maybe this young human male is actually a hunter, and, like a few other merciful hunters kyuhwan has encountered in his life, is pointing out that he is still doing a very poor job of concealing his vampirism despite his best efforts, but with no real intention of killing him just yet. but he doesn’t notice the signs of a hunter on who he assumes is another student, the telltale ones, the ones kijung and mei have taught him to look out for. but that is as confusing as it is reassuring.

“the vibe...” he repeats with a slow, deliberate nod, as if he gets it, despite the deer in headlights look on his face very much giving away the fact that he doesn’t get it at all. he wonders if he’ll be this socially hopeless forever, if his eternity will be one of awkward encounters at parties full of people much more hip and glamorous than he is. surely not, surely he must at least have centuries of suaveness and poise to look forward to, like movie vampires, like the elder vampires he rubbed shoulders with at the gala. but ‘centuries’ is a long time from now, and already his first year feels like an eternity; he can only imagine the next five, ten, thirty, fifty, one hundred will do the same.

“i-” but he has misread the question as one he was supposed to answer, when it turns out that, in fact, he was not supposed to respond at all. but he follows the gracious cue, trailing behind the friendly stranger and trying not to catch any signs of his ‘vibe’ in the reflections of the eyes he accidentally makes contact with along the way.

it’s quieter in the kitchen, just slightly, and it’s less crowded, the sickening-sweet smells of open alcohol and fruit juice mixers hanging in the air like a cloud, enough to temporarily mask the thinned rush of blood pumping through the bodies crowding the rooms and hallways all around them.

“what do you...” he begins to ask as if he knows anything about drinking, because it seems like the right thing to ask to keep them from falling into an inescapably awkward lull in conversation, gesturing vaguely to the bottles scattered across the counter, “normally drink?”

[feykyuhwan]

yohanfey​:

feykyuhwan​:

--at first glance

yohan always thought that the night shift was one of the safest shifts if he and his sister decided to get a little more mischievous with each other. after all, it was especially designed to creatures that couldn’t shop for flowers during the day since most people would visit the flower shop during the early morning or the afternoon. and even then, they never got too much costumers anyway, just a couple of businessmen who were coming home a little late and wanted to get something so their wives wouldn’t be as mad at them as they should. 

and that’s why even though it’s a nuisance that he’s yet again left without his clothes after a prank that made him shift behind the counter, he doesn’t think too much about it, isn’t even that annoyed because well, it’s the night shift and his clothes are just under the counter anyway. yohan barely thinks about shifting back, decides that he’d hear as soon as someone got into the shop and then shift and put his clothes back on just in time for them to reach the counter. he has never tried it before, but in the end facing the night shift as a dog was much less boring than as human. 

even like that, he wasn’t fully expecting someone to come anyway and that’s why he’s completely taken by surprise when he hears someone entering the shop, followed by a hello. he doesn’t reply, of course he doesn’t, he’s a dog. what if he scared the costumer away with his bark? (that was quite the bark considering yohan is a large dog). he smells the trace of not human in air and it calms him down a little bit. it’s always easier to explain he was shifter instead of the other person assuming he was a creep for being naked behind the counter or worse, seeing a dog instead a person to attend to them and what would they think of the store? his mother would kill him if she had to go down and take care of this costumer because yohan shifted during his shift, or maybe they’d catch him in the process of shifting, maybe—

the familiar blushes hard when he’s caught anyway. “n-no!” he barely registers the face of the stranger in the middle of his embarrassment, gets his clothes in a hurry and tries to put them back on as fast as he can without really standing from behind the counter. “just give me a second! it’s not— i was just— i’m a familiar, so.” he says like that explains everything, he hopes it does. 

it doesn’t take long for him to be dressed again, thank god he usually only bothers with sweatpants and a tshirt. his cheeks are still flushed. yohan clears his throat when he’s decent and in the spot he should’ve been all along during his shift. “sorry about that. i was just— i shifted because usually no one comes at this hour anyway and then you caught me in the middle of shifting back, so.” he presses his hands on his own cheeks like that would make the flush go away a little faster. “but, uh— i’m ok now. you were saying?”

“ah...” he simply utters to provide some kind of response that might alleviate the awkwardness in the room, as if that does explain everything. maybe it should, but it doesn’t, not to kyuhwan, who, even now, is still getting used to the fact that anyone walking around seoul could be some magical supernatural creature like him. if the young man behind the counter is a familiar, of course it makes sense, and it certainly explains the smell (kyuhwan still has trouble differentiating smells, especially the ones that exist somewhere between animal and human and witch and indecipherable magic, and especially when it’s mingling with the overpowering scents of a hundred different flower species). but he is still not so sure it explains why he was naked at work in the first place.

it occurs to him then that the shop clerk did not have that problem when deciphering kyuhwan as a fellow fae-adjacent. otherwise, he would not have been so quick with his hasty explanation. is he really that behind in supernatural etiquette that he cannot pinpoint another person’s species with just one glance or whiff or both? 

kyuhwan shifts sheepishly as he listens for the sounds of the familiar getting dressed somewhere behind the counter, suddenly visibly very interested in a display of autumn-themed bouquets high above either of their heads, on a shelf near the ceiling, pulling his gaze as far away from the familiar as possible. they’re actually very pretty, he notices, and it’s a reminder of why he made the journey here in the first place. 

“it’s okay,” he reassures calmly, with a polite smile. but when he makes eye contact with the employee, it’s only another reminder of the comically mortifying incident that has just occurred. it’s also a reminder that familiars are very much alive, red-blooded, two-legged creatures, because his cheeks are flushed and his heartbeat is quickened and there is a tinge of sweetness to the blood coursing through the familiar’s veins that even the most pungent lilies can’t seem to cover up.

“um,” he looks away again, somewhere, anywhere, gaze landing on a bouquet nearby, “i wanted to get something for my mom.” if he focuses on his goal, perhaps it’ll be distraction enough until the shop clerk calms down a little and his heart rate slows to something less tempting, “there isn’t an occasion or anything...her birthday isn’t for a while, but my...aunt says it’s okay to send your mother flowers without a reason.”

[feykyuhwan]

feytaeyoon​:

#freshface

music flows through the building, filling each room with the chill tune and keeping any kind of silence fall over the party. faces of unfamiliar people pass by taeyoon’s eyes from his spot in the main room. some of them make eye contact with him, some even look as if they want to stop and talk but seem to realize he isn’t wanting to talk. if the slight glare he gave anyone who so much as let their eyes linger on him was a good enough give away.

he wasn’t really here for fun–despite that being the overall purpose of a party. the teen sitting with a drink in his lap and his phone in his hand. no, he wasn’t here for fun, but mostly just for something to do. a place where there’s enough noise to drown out the noise in his head. keep his own thoughts from over taking him and drowning him in the comfort of cheap drinks and poorly dressed people.

he knows most people here are university students but that’s no excuse for the lack of fashion. he’s seen maybe four people dressed well.

maybe it’s his own pickiness. of the fact everything he has on his designer in some way.

his eyes raise from his phone to sweep around the room again, wondering if anyone here was actually someone he knows or if he was going to continue sitting here doing nothing but scrolling his phone. he thought about maybe finding someone to dance with or even just going to mingle when his eyes landed on someone who appeared to have just arrived. his brows raised as he took in the sight of @feykyuhwan and more importantly, the way he is dressed. is this guy lost? sure, no one here has top fashion but they all look like they belong as a party.. but this guy?

that’s all it took for taeyoon to abandon his spot on the couch and make his way to the new guy. a friendly smile pulling across his lips as he got close enough to be heard over the music and chatter ( though the music wasn’t too loud in here, it was still loud ). “you look kind of lost? are parties not your thing?” despite his words there no judgement in his voice.

it’s loud. it’s the first thing he notices as he approaches the building, trailing behind the small handful of students he arrived with. he should have expected as much, should always expect as much (there isn’t a place outside of mei’s that isn’t noisy and bordering on the point of overwhelming). but it feels extra significant now, in comparison to the quiet twenty-four-hour coffee shop they’d just departed from. 

it was supposed to be a night for studying, and just studying. but there had been mutterings about this party from the beginning of their study session, and eventually, the majority of the group had conceded: their friday night would be much better spent at a social event than fretting over a study guide for a quiz that wasn’t until tuesday. 

but this is a human party filled with human students, and even now, more than a year after his initial turning, kyuhwan is too aware of this fact. he can smell varying blood alcohol levels in the air, can almost decipher individual heartbeats through the music, booming and fluttering to help thinned blood travel through widened arteries (he had never, understandably, and until very recently,  anticipated his anatomy classes would be something he’d consider a mouthwatering experience).

he just ate, but he can already feel his inevitable thirst crawling up on him. if he times it right, he can stay for an hour or so, and slip out unnoticed, without anyone getting hurt. that’ll give him plenty of time to make it home and to a refrigerator full of waiting blood packs with his name on them. luck permitting, of course.

kyuhwan doesn’t even realize the partygoer is approaching him until he’s addressing him directly, not sure why anyone here would want to talk to him specifically. but he smiles back, always polite, always friendly, not opposed to making conversation. it falters when the other young man speaks, and he can feel his cheeks turning pink with his most recent meal.

“ah...is it that obvious?” he reaches up to tug on his ear self-consciously. of course he sticks out. why wouldn’t he? it would seem everyone else in his study group had planned for this, while he was here spontaneously and with little to no preparation. and his distinct lack of party experience certainly didn’t help.

“i don’t go to many of these,” he admits with a sheepish smile, watching as the peers he arrived with start to dissipate into various pockets of the party.

[feykyuhwan]

feykijung​:

` * ∞ panorama

when he pulls away from the hug, he doesn’t know if kyu believes a word he says. he can’t tell without looking him in the eyes– the eyes he knows so well, that he feels like he’s spent an eternity with even if it’s been a mere couple of years. he doesn’t know what to think without looking at kyuhwan’s face that usually gives everything away to him, that he can read like the book his best friend holds in his hands. he can feel the sadness, though. he can feel that it doesn’t really help, and why would it? all kyuhwan knows is 20 years, a marker that he will never surpass by kijung’s doing. kijung knows hundreds, the early days of his vampirism near forgotten.

how long did it take for things to get better for him? maybe 100 years, maybe until mei took him in and took care of him the way any 17 year old should be taken care of. he likes to think it’ll be different for him and kyu, though. kijung is not his own sire, or at least he tells himself this, despite the unavoidable similarities (the unwilling turning, wanting to keep someone forever; he tries not to think about it.)

he likes to think it’ll be different. he will treat kyuhwan like he is still living and breathing, like he has the same heart and soul because as far as kijung is concerned, he does. he will do everything in his power to take good care of him and shower him in warmth even if he can’t feel it, and it will be less painful, eventually. maybe it’ll still take 15 years, or 50, or 100 again, but they will make it through. they will cry more like this, undoubtedly, as much as they need to, and keep going even when the pain of it all feels like the deaths they will never experience. “i’m going to be here with you,” he assures him. “okay?” he doesn’t know if it will help. he hopes so.

kyuhwan’s fear is an understandable one, and one kijung grappled with himself, ages ago, before he accepted the reality that all things would be lost to time eventually– before he accepted the old would be replaced by the new, over and over and over again. there are some memories he repeated over and over in his head in hopes of clinging to them, though. 

when kyuhwan asks about his family, he can nod in honesty. he frowns soon after, though. “yes,” he says, if the nod wasn’t enough. “but there are some things i don’t…i remember the feelings, mainly, but only a little of their faces anymore. there are some memories still. i remember one of the days my dad taught me how to fish when i was younger, and how i almost fell off the pier into the water. i remember…the bad parts too. i remember my step-mother calling me an abomination, but then i remember my little brother hugging my leg, and–” he pauses, voice suddenly thick with its own emotion. “some of the stories about my mother. i remember always wishing i could’ve heard her sing.”

he leaves the part out about sometimes forgetting how many siblings he had, and forgetting how he met hwan sometimes. he leaves out the part about how he’s certain his memories are different than how things really happened. he thinks it’s fine that way, though. “you’ll forget some things. maybe you should write down what you want to make sure you remember, so you can read it again if you feel yourself forgetting, to remember again.”

i’m going to be here with you, okay?

kyuhwan nods. what else can he do? he does believe that much, he does believe that kijung will always be there to help him, to take care of him, to be his friend. he knows, based on the stories he’s heard from kijung and mei and the other supernaturals he didn’t know were anything but human until his own turning, that he is lucky, when it comes to sires, because his is not cruel or sadistic or malicious or unforgiving.

but he also knows his sire, kijung, he corrects himself because ‘sire’ feels too formal a word for someone he considers his best friend, for a best friend he feels like he’s known much longer than a year or three, did this to him. he knows that this happened to him, like a car accident or a robbery or a kick in the chest. he knows that kijung knew what he was doing. he knows that everything in life he has lost and will never have is held somewhere in the space behind kijung’s fangs. it is a daily exercise in human emotion to fight off anger and resentment he hasn’t yet discovered, because he did want a lifetime with kijung, just not necessarily an immortal one. but he fears the day he does discover anger, resentment, blame, murder, within the glances he exchanges with kijung. he fears the day he wakes up to his fear becoming rage and digging an inescapable rift between them. 

“do you...know what happened to them?” he can’t imagine not knowing. in a generation where everyone knows everything about everyone, where memories are digital and instant and forever, kept in pockets and screens, on walls and in books, archived for the eternity he faces before him.

“how do you remember who you are?” he starts, because this is the part he fears most: losing himself, his identity, his humanity, love, laughter, hopes, doubts, mercies, fears, empathy, dreams, thoughts, favorites, desires, to time, and to the bloodthirst that always, always seems to sit just there, in the base of his gums and the back of his throat like a permanent resident, “how do you remember who you are when you forget where you came from?”

[feykyuhwan]

--at first glance

@yohanfey

he has to wait for the last human customer to leave the shop, at the very least. even then, he lingers at the bus stop across the street, just in case anymore living, breathing temptations walk up and risk his chances at having a normal, uneventful, nonthreatening trip to the florist. it’s a rarity, for him to attempt such a mundane excursion without kijung or mei or weixin. but he’s determined to prove, if only to himself, that he can, in fact, live some semblance of a normal life without an elder vampire tethered to him at all times. and, perhaps, the peace offering to his mother will rebuild the bridge between them, the same bridge that was blown to pieces by her discovery of his unfortunate immortality. 

it’s late now, a little past nine, when most people are out for late dinner or early drinks, and eventually he deems this window of time as good as any, crossing the street at a crosswalk and letting his feet carry him to the front door. a bell chimes pleasantly as he enters and a quick survey of the shop’s air lets kyuhwan take inventory of only stale human scents among the overwhelming perfume of flowers in bloom. he breathes a gentle sigh of relief then, happy to breathe freely knowing he is much less likely to lose control on any unsuspecting patron if no unsuspecting patrons are present.

but it seems, at first glance, that there are no employees present either, in spite of the shop’s being bright and open, its late night hours displayed fairly clearly. he checks the time on his watch again, confirms that it is not yet half past nine and that he has at least an hour left before the shop closes. so he approaches the counter, looking around for signs of life, and finding none.

“hello?” he calls politely toward the back of the shop, not raising his voice to loudly for fear of being burdensome or disrespectful.

he gently rests his hands on the edge of the counter, straining his ears for movement, only to hear something almost directly in front of him, despite there being no one at his eye level. 

“i wanted to order something for my- oh-” he’s leaned over the counter by now, half expecting to see some sort of four-legged pet on the other side and, instead, being greeted by the sight of a very human, very naked man. he quickly averts his eyes, going so far as to turn his back on the counter entirely, “i’m so sorry, i didn’t-” of course he didn’t, why would he? he clears his throat, unsure of how to proceed, “should i...come back later?”

[feykyuhwan]

feykijung​:

` * ∞ soul

kijung can almost hear the seconds ticking by, like some ticking clock or beeping timebomb, leading up to the moment kyuhwan bears his fangs and sinks them into anything with a beating heart. he too, can hear kyu’s parents down the stairs– knows their heartbeats are faster than usual from the fright of it all, that blood pumps through their veins so quickly. he can almost feel kyu’s fear. he does feel how much is on the line: everything. kyu’s entire life is packed into this moment before he needs more blood, the time between now and then.

kijung knows they need to do this, but do they need to do it now? is there some way to climb out of kyuhwan’s window and find him fresh blood with his parents being none the wiser? can they return without being found out, then walk down the stairs, prepared and put together? (he should’ve thought to bring blood with him, but it all happened too fast, too much of an emergency  to delay.)

no, they do. kijung knows, and he knows explaining all of this to kyu’s parents will require a kyuhwan that looks like their son instead of a creature covered in blood. it will require calm, and certainty, or…maybe it will require sincerity. undoubtedly, it’ll be a team effort between the two of them, where kijung can provide the former and kyuhwan the latter. breaking the news doesn’t need to be perfect. it just needs to not result in death. kijung can picture kyuhwan’s mother or father, blood drained by their own son, lifeless, so vividly. he feels that possibility and potential grief so heavy in his heart, and he is afraid.

surely, kyu is more scared. kijung needs the courage for both of them, so he nods. “okay,” he agrees, voice still quiet. “we’ll do it,” he adds, with the certainty he knows his best friend needs, even with his own apprehension. “get changed and wash your face. i’ll help you get the blood off your clothes later, and if you need more of my blood before we talk to them, we can do that too.” it’ll be okay, he so desperately wants to reassure him, but there is so much that could go wrong; he can’t quite bring himself to.

kyuhwan nods, taking in kijung’s instructions attentively, diligently, while still keeping his own breaths minimal, not having yet mastered holding his breath for inhuman amounts of time. it is a powerful instinct to overrule, the need to breathe, almost as powerful as the urge to rip and tear and consume when his thirst grows uncontrollable and animalistic. and now he has to work to keep both natural instincts at bay, as well as the urge to fall to his knees and beg his parents for forgiveness for being something he cannot control, for being something so terrible that it could, according to their teachings, permanently affect the future of his immortal soul. immortal. how much that word has changed to him now.

he slips into his bathroom, still wearing an air of guilt, like a scolded house dog retreating to his corner without needing to be instructed further. the sounds of the modest home are loud to him, the water in the pipes as he turns the sink faucet on, the water heater thrumming gently somewhere below his feet, the floors creaking as his parents speak in hushed voices downstairs. he splashes his face clean, towels blood from his hands and arms, leaves his clothes in a pile on the floor in an uncharacteristic moment of messiness before pulling a fresh outfit out of his dresser: a clean, albeit wrinkled cotton tee, long-sleeved and a muted grey, and a pair of well-tailored blue jeans he once feared he would soon grow out of. his hair is still growing, he observes, while glancing at his reflection, scanning it for any stray red droplets, that is something that hasn’t changed. 

it feels unfair, that his own heartrate would also quicken of nerves, burning through the undead blood in his stomach that his system sees as lackluster. he has done everything right, and yet everything has gone wrong, and will continue, it would seem, to go wrong until he’s sunk his teeth into something warm and soft and living.

“kijung,” he utters quietly, when he turns from the mirror, satisfied with his fresh appearance, frowning in concern, “i think...i need more...and then i’ll be ready...”

he feels terrible about it, utterly guilty, as if somehow the dryness of his throat and the ache in his gums and the burn in his stomach is his fault, “i’m sorry.”

[feykyuhwan]

feykijung​:

` * ∞ soul

kyuhwan weeps, and kijung cries more at the sound of it, at the faint feeling off kyu’s tears seeping into his shirt. it’s silent, and he tries not to shake with it– with the responsibility he will always bear, with the knowledge that he did this. the blood is on his hands. without him, kyu wouldn’t be near any blood at all. 

then comes the painful potential reality: maybe kyuhwan would’ve been better off without him. he would know nothing– only the bliss that comes with ignorance, a future as a doctor the universe would be lucky to have, the ability to fall in love and get married and live a life full of success and happiness that kijung has robbed him of. he knows, god, he knows now more than ever, but it only makes him hold onto his best friend tighter. it only makes him want to fix it. it only makes him want to say that forever will be better– that there are blessings in an eternity, too, and that he will never be alone in it. kyu will never hurt like he did. kijung will make sure of it.

in the meantime, there is pain. there is mourning, there is adjustment, there is heartache, there is danger. there is an ocean of tears that kijung contributes to; he sobs too, even if it’s quiet, only evident in the shift of his breathing. he wants to be strong for him. (he wants to say i’m sorry, but it is i’m sorry it hurts so much. i’m sorry you have to sacrifice so much, but i couldn’t be alone anymore. it’s an apology that invalidates itself, so it’s one he doesn’t say.) 

by the time he meets kyu’s eyes again, it’s with tears almost dry. it’s not the first time kyuhwan has seen him cry, but it’s the time he feels the most guilty for– like he has no right, like he failed him. still, they’ll manage. he’s determined. 

he knows his concept of time is different. 60 years will feel like a lifetime to kyu while they’re just a blip for kijung; he can’t comfort him with the fact that by then, he will help build him a new life that is everlasting. the promise of a better future after a lifetime means nothing, and fixes nothing, even if it’s what stabilizes kijung. he has confidence in this truth, even if it does nothing to comfort his best friend in moments like these.

right. kyu probably should clean up. kijung looks back at him, blood-splattered, true picture of a vampire, and he doesn’t deserve his parents seeing him like this. he doesn’t deserve them seeing him as more of a monster than they already will. he doesn’t deserve them, distracted from the fact that he is no longer human, but his heart is still the same; the soul of kyuhwan hasn’t changed at all. 

still: “yeah.” he gives a tiny nod after he turns to face kyu again, still lingering in the doorway. “do you…” he hesitates, and in a rare case, tries to find the best words to say, choosing them carefully, something soft. “…think you have time?”

“i...” it is a loaded question, weighted heavily with the reality of the situation, with the truth of his existence, with the almost inevitable possibility of his descent into monsterhood, with the question of his humanity’s temporary state, with the unavoidable fact of his inherent danger. 

the truth is, he doesn’t know. he doesn’t know if he has time. he thought he had time before his parents burst through the front door in an excited flurry of hunger and heartbeats and blood, so much blood, so much fresh blood...already, he can feel his ears straining for the sound of warm red pumping through their veins like overflowing rain gutters. there is so much of the stuff on him now, stale but still tempting. there is still an ache behind his fangs, even with kijung’s blood still sloshy in his stomach. he doesn’t know what the answer is, or what answer he should give.

but he has to. he has to have time. he has to do this. his parents deserve an explanation, and he deserves to see something in their eyes other than fear when they look at him. they are supposed to love him, like they always have, like he loves them. he can’t slip into the night with kijung knowing the people that gave birth to him, and raised him, who brought him into this world, now know him as nothing but a monster, something to be exorcised and purged from the world, something tainted and disgusting and fearsome. i’m innocent, he wants to tell them, i’m not broken, i won’t hurt you, i’m not a monster. but those well up in his chest as lies, and that’s what hurts most of all, the fear that the truth is actually monstrous, the fear that his truth makes him deserving of their hatred. there is fear that he will kill them, and then there is fear that they will watch him leave and pray that he never comes back.

“i don’t know,” he finally manages in a hoarse whisper, swallowing back another pained bout of tears, “i...i have to. i can’t...” just leave, he wants to say, but the words die in his throat, because what if that’s what they want? what if that’s exactly what they want when they find out? what if he is to live forever with the memory of fear and loathing in his mother’s eyes?

“i have to do this.”