Nights In White Satin
pairing: jimin/reader
genre: fluff, angst, and then some heavy angst (vampire au, vampire reader)
words: 11.6k (holy shit, my longest)
warnings: blood (ofc), cursing, violence, kinda graphic death scenes (vehicle crash), a vomiting scene that i didn’t get graphic with but it’s still there, major character death, seokjin is kind of an asshole, slight gore, vampire killing
summary: How foolish of you to think you could have a normal life, even for just a few years that would pass in the blink of an eye for you. A life without the need for what’s pumped through veins, without ageless years, without the instinct of selfishness and deceit.
You forced a life of which felt akin to a dream.
It’s a life you’ve envied and yearned for the last few decades. The fact that you’re living that life almost feels surreal. Almost.
It was something you’d decided on one autumn night while sat at the bar of a small bar and grill in the heart of a new town.
Yellow and orange leaves littered the yards and streets just outside, a light and continuous breeze whistling past buildings and people.
The lights in the small building were dim, casting a warm orange glow over sleek tabletops to give off a relaxing vibe for tourists and locals alike. It shines just right in your glass of whiskey, yet it’s not what you’re focused on. Instead, your gaze is trained on the busboy with a heavenly backside.
You watch intently as he wipes down each table and seat, back muscles flexing under the white tee that has the bar and grill’s logo enlarged on it. Every few minutes he straightens to run a ring-covered hand through the inky black locks of his, tilting his head back in the process, showcasing his neck.
This seems to be a routine you’ve fallen into; coming in the evening right as the sun goes down, ordering a drink and watching the busboy work until traces of sweat glisten his tanned skin. You’re aware of how weird you may seem just watching him work, but you don’t really care. You don’t because he seems to be the only thing keeping you grounded lately, even if it is just the sight of him. And nobody ever seems to notice your presence anyway.
But after two weeks of him being your distraction, you wanted more. You wanted to hear his bubbly laughter more, wanted to know what his skin may feel like under your fingertips, wanted to know what it’s like to really have him. And although your touch is ice cold and your face stays stoic, you couldn’t seem to strike a conversation. He felt too good for you, and he truly was. Hell, he had a beating heart, that’s all he needed for you to hold back from acting on anything. You don’t deserve him.
But you wanted him—wanted him more than the blood that ran through his very veins. And when the time came that you first spoke to him, it wasn’t planned.
It was a slow night in the little bar and grill, leaving the employees with much to do compared to most days. You’d been seated in your regular spot at the corner of the bar where you can see the whole place, but you were too deep in thought this time, watching as your finger lightly traces along the rim of the glass you’d ordered. Most sounds around you were consciously dulled out to a hum, but your sensitive ears didn’t miss the sound of his voice from across the room.
A soft ‘ah’ escaped his lips as you heard the sound of his hand fumbling a glass as it slipped through his fingers. You didn’t wait even a millisecond to get up, using your supernatural ability to come up next to him in the blink of an eye and successfully catch the glass, halting its descent to the hardwood floor.
It startles him, making him jump slightly and you can see the hair on the back of his neck stand. He stutters slightly, wide-eyed.
“U-uh, thank you,” he says softly, confusion laced in his tone.
“No problem,” you force a smile because you don’t want the nerves of finally being face-to-face with him to show on your features, possibly scaring him. He seems to relax at the smile you give and it calms the nervous tingling in your cheeks.
“How did you—“ he laughs confusedly, “I mean, I could’ve sworn—“
“I was walking by when you dropped the glass,” the white lie slips too easily from your lips, “I was just close enough to catch it.”
“Oh,” he smiles, “nice catch, then.”
“I-It was nothing,” you say sheepishly. How could you start to stutter /now/? You’re still holding the glass when he reaches for it, his warm fingers brushing against yours as he takes it from your grasp.
Right when your skin touches him, he quickly retracts his hand, almost like you would’ve jolted him.
But all he says is, “I’m Jimin, by the way.”
You don’t tell him that you already knew that by hearing other employees and customers call him by the name, and give him yours in return.
He smiles a smile that meets his eyes, “Well, ____, I guess I owe you one. They definitely would’ve fired me if I’d broken another glass.”
His comment pulls a laugh out of you, one that bubbles from your chest and makes you feel light. “How about I repay you with a drink sometime?”
The sudden request had you fiddling with your collarbone, a nervous habit you developed just now, actually. You wrack your brain for the right answer, the answer you want to give him, but his gaze renders you speechless and leaves the words on the tip of your tongue. He takes your silence as rejection and uncertainty, and he rushes to take back his words.
“But if you don’t want to, that’s alright,” he gives a sad smile, “it’s no—“
“No!” You splutter, “No—I mean, yes. Yes, I want to.”
A relieved smile lights his face, “Great. I’ll let you know, yeah?”
“Yeah, of course,” you assure him and he bids you goodbye with what seems to be an everlasting smile, one that makes warmth stir inside of you even though you know it’s just in your head. It’s something that lingers as you leave the small restaurant, unable to feel the breeze nip at your skin as you walk further into the autumn night.
Your mind is sweetly plagued with Jimin’s voice since then. Of course, you’ve heard it plenty times before, but the fact that it was you who he was speaking to had a different effect. You scoff at yourself, your pathetic thoughts, and take another sip of whiskey.
It’s been two days since you had officially met Jimin, and each day he greets you with a smile when you walk in the familiar bar and grill. It’s almost as if he sensed you entering the place, stopping whatever he’s doing just to tell you hello. But he never comes to talk with you, never brings up the promised date.
So, today you distantly observe him work, making sure he doesn’t catch you staring when he reaches over for something or straightens his back. You do so until you hear footsteps nearing where you sit on the barstool that your ass has basically molded at this point. You expect someone to sit next to you, you just don’t expect it to be him.
“Hey,” Jimin says, throwing a white rag over his shoulder and sending you a lazy smile. He slumps on the stool, one foot resting on a bar in between the stool legs, making his faded jeans look even better on him.
“Hey,” you reply, “You finally done for the day?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, bringing his hand up to run through the black strands of hair, his signature habit. “And finally getting you that drink I promised.”
You can’t help but smile, nearly blushing if you still had blood to rush to your cheeks. He reciprocates it easily, calling over his coworker, the bartender, to order you a drink of your choice despite the unfinished glass that already rests in your hand.
“So,” he says, turning his body to face the bar and resting his arms atop of it, “how long you been in town?”
He must’ve noticed your presence at least once or twice to know that you’re relatively new to the area. Maybe your presence wasn’t as ignored as you thought it was.
“A little over two weeks,” you supply, taking the new drink the bartender set in front of you. You see Jimin take a rather large sip from his drink from your peripheral and it surprises you. After all, you didn’t think he’d be much of a drinker.
“You plan on staying any longer?” He asks and you already know your answer. You can never stay in one place for too long. No matter how comfortable you may feel in a place, you can never stay. But you tell him what you wish was true.
“Maybe,” you say, smirking at him playfully. “Why? Would you like me to stay awhile?”
“Well I’d like to get to know the gorgeous one before she leaves, at least” he grins, the apples of his cheeks tinting pink in such an endearing way.
“Okay then,” you bite your lip, trying to hide your smile but ultimately failing, “I’m sure I can stay longer... What about you?”
“Oh, I’ve been here all my life,” he says, “never even left the state before.” He adds sheepishly and you listen intently as he goes on. “Sometimes I wish I could leave, though.”
“Why don’t you?” You ask.
“I’m not sure, honestly. I always tell myself that it’s just because I can’t afford it, but I know it’s just something holding me back.” He explains. “It’s stupid, really...”
“No, it’s not,” you say, taking him by surprise, “I wish I had a place like that. Somewhere that holds me down.”
He just stares at you in interest, face softening into a smile once again.
You stare at the television with guilt riddling your features. The breaking news headline showcases photographs of a couple found dead at a nearby hiking trail, cause of death being a plausible animal attack. But there’s no such animal that can drain a person of blood, let alone two people.
The voice of the reporter becomes background noise as events from the night before flood your memory. Regret seeps deep within you as you recall exactly how you pounced on the first person you saw, no hesitation or thought put into your actions.
It was a hunting night last night, and Seokjin had brought you to where the woods are just thin enough that you’d be mere shadows to anything passing by. It made for a well enough kill and feed.
Seokjin is...someone you can’t quite put a name to yet, but he’s been dragging you along with him since the 50s. He’s what’s widely known—for the council and other vampires—as an original, one of the first among humans to bear fangs and have a bloodlust like no other. He became a vampire in the 16th century, where he was thriving in his early twenties. You don’t know how, but you’re sure a witch is to blame for his cold and immortal state from the burning hatred he harbors for them.
He’s cold, and not just physically. Cold is just an understatement. He’s ruthless, uncaring in every way. And that didn’t change when he’d turned you in 1952.
It had been a tragic accident, a fatal car wreck that flattened your best friend’s Cadillac. It was a night of fun with your closest friends, heading to the diner, a hotspot for everyone in town at the time.
It was always better at night. Girls and guys from around the area met up there, dressed in leather or long pink skirts that felt amazing to twirl in.
Your best friend that was driving had wanted to change the radio station, even though all of you were already nearly to the diner, so there was no real point in it. But she tried anyway, and you were oblivious to it, laughing and gossiping with your other two friends seated in the back.
Cars at the time were less advanced, thus having no seatbelts and nothing to prevent you from sitting sideways on the off white cushion seat to talk with your friends face-to-face. There was also only a frequency radio in the car, leaving your best friend struggling to find a station she liked.
No one felt the car slowly move to the side, your best friend didn’t notice how she was subconsciously turning the wheel and steering into the wrong lane. Nobody noticed a thing until it was too late, and the blinding headlights of an oncoming truck were lighting the oblivious faces of you and your friends.
It wasn’t a head-on collision, just a hit to the right headlight. But that one hit had the car spinning, ultimately tilting the car until it continuously tumbled until landing on its hood.
None of you survived. But unluckily for you, Seokjin had been loitering around and had watched the whole scene unfold.
He explained to you that he was just bored and vengeful at the universe. And so, he chose you to bestow the cursed immortality upon. He stopped at your body, lying lifelessly on the ground littered with glass, yards away from where your friends were crushed to death inside the crumpled vehicle that begins to smoke. And he brought you back to life, only to be eternally dead.
Ever since then, he’s kept you on a tight leash. Since he’s the one who turned you, you do whatever he tells you to, whether you really want to or not. It’s something that’s out of your control. Which is why you’re stuck with him. You don’t really talk, conversation is rare between the two of you, but he drags you with him wherever his nomadic tendencies lead him.
Which brings you to the present, where you’re lounging in the house of a man that Seokjin killed, watching the local news. You’re supposed to go to Jimin’s house later on. He’d invited you to have dinner with him at his place the last time you two hung out at the bar.
It had become a regular thing for the both of you, staying behind as the bar and grill closes up to have a drink and talk about whatever was on your minds.
You’d learned that Jimin is an absolute sweetheart. He’s compassionate and softhearted with a little sass put in the mix. He once rescued a puppy for crying out loud! He truly is a dream come true. It’s what you think about the whole walk to his house as the sun sets completely behind the trees. Everything seems to dull with the comings of early winter and although the low temperature wouldn’t have fazed you, you wear a jacket for the sake of acting human. Because tonight, that’s all you’ll be; just a mortal having dinner with the guy she’s been eyeing for weeks. These thoughts make you a little more confident as you ring the doorbell.
“Hey,” Jimin smiles at the sight of you, “come in.” He steps to the side, opening the door wider to let you in and closing it behind you. You forget to take off your jacket, and Jimin stops you, taking it off for you. You thank him as his hands move down your arms, effectively releasing you from the jacket and hanging it on a rack. It’s a feeling that surely would’ve made you shiver.
“You’re welcome,” he says, then gesturing to a room at the back of the house, “I’m almost finished cooking. Come with me in the kitchen.” He doesn’t even have to ask you twice before you’re trailing behind him toward the said room.
The smell of food is strong through the house, and it smells good. Vampires can eat food just like anyone else, except they’ll be throwing it all up about thirty minutes later. A side effect of being dead.
You make yourself at home, already comfortable being around Jimin, and sit on top of the island and watch him tend to the sizzling pan on the stove.
“You never told me you could cook,” you say with a teasing lilt.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, sweetheart,” he says, never looking away from the cooking food, but you can see the quirk of his lips from his side profile. You feel too much of his comment, but brush it off when you feel your mind drifting. You aren’t doing that tonight.
“Oh really?” You tease and he replies with a hum. “Alright then. Whatcha cookin’?”
“Fajitas. You like that, right?” He looks back at you, worry flashing over his face and you rush to reassure him.
“Yeah! That’s perfect,” and a smile graces his lips just as fast as it had gone.
“Good because this was just about the most I had in my fridge and my account isn’t looking pretty enough to grocery shop,” he rambles and you jump down from the island, walking over to him. You think it over for a second before looping your arm with his that holds the handle of the pan, seeming to surprise him.
“Really, Jimin,” you say, looking at him to show your sincerity, “I’m sure it’ll taste great.”
A shy smile forms on his face, eyes scrunching into slits that make your skin tingle. It’s the same way with every beguiling little thing he does. His face suddenly lights with remembrance.
“Can you keep an eye on this real quick,” he asks you, nodding toward the food, “I forgot about the mail I was meaning to open before you got here.”
“Yeah, sure,” you say, moving in front of the stove as he thanks you. You nearly miss the way he faintly touches the small of your back, but of course the feeling lingered when he pulls away.
“I’m supposed to be getting a letter,” he says as you hear the shuffling of paper.
“From who?” You ask, eyes focusing on the sizzling meat in front of you.
“Just some family,” he says, tearing open envelope after envelope, “They all moved out of—ah!”
You know what happened instantly.
You didn’t even need to hear the sound of the paper’s edge to know, and the steaming food looming just under your nose doesn’t obscure the smell of blood that hits your senses.
Your eyes start to burn along with the skin around it and your teeth shift horrifically. The pain makes you wince and hiss as you cover your mouth to muffle the sound, but you’re too late, and Jimin had already heard you.
“____, are you alright?” He asks, worry laced heavily in his tone as he starts toward you but you stop him with a hand up.
“Yeah—uh—where’s your bathroom?” You ask, words almost jumbling together with how frantic you become.
“Right over there,” he says with a confused lilt, pointing to his left and you have to stop yourself from going too fast in fear of scaring him and possibly showing what you are. You feel his eyes on you the whole way to the bathroom and you shut the door behind you quickly.
You grip the sides of the white sink, curling in on yourself due to the excruciating pain in your stomach, twisting in a pang of hunger you don’t feel very often. Looking up in the mirror, you find your reflection, a sight that you’ll hate for the rest of your undead life. The nerves and veins around your eyes protrude, discolored to red and black. Your now sharpened teeth prick at your lips, making you hiss and grip the sink tighter. You tried to calm yourself down, but it becomes futile and you become still when you hear a loud crack. Looking down at the sink, you see a crack on it right next to your right hand. It seems to be the only thing to get you out of the uncontrollable bloodlust you were thrown into because you immediately retract your hands, panicking.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck—“
“____, you okay in there?” Jimin calls out.
“—shit shit shit,” you pull at your hair, looking around the bathroom as if superglue or something would magically appear out of thin air.
You slowly move your hand back to the sink and carefully push it back up, making the crack temporarily disappear, and hesitantly move your hand back. A relieved sigh slips past your lips when it doesn’t fall back out of place.
“____?!” Jimin calls out again, but much closer this time and you hear two small knocks on the door. Straightening yourself out, your reflection shows no sign of the monstrous part of you, the pain fading into a tingle.
You open the door to see Jimin standing there with a concerned look.
“Yeah, I’m good,” you say, clearing your throat, “just some grease popped on my face.”
“What, are you okay? Did it burn you?” He asks, wide-eyed and lifting his hand close to your face as if he was going to touch you, but seeming to opt against it and stopping his hand in mid-air.
“No, it didn’t. I’m fine,” you assure him, and he looks at you rather unconvinced but doesn’t say anything more. “The food wasn’t burned, huh?”
Your question seemed to divert his attention once again. “No, it’s ready now, actually.” He says.
You help him with setting the table—even if just for the two of you—even after he insists that you don’t have to, saying he’s just forgetful and the task had slipped his mind before you arrived. You keep comfortable conversation as you both eat. He tells you about his family before they moved away, about how he danced nearly his whole life.
“What about your family?” He asks, taking another bite. You still for a moment, staring at the fajita in your hand, trying to figure out what you could tell him.
“Oh, uh...I’m not really in contact with them anymore,” you say, looking down at your plate rather than meeting Jimin’s soft eyes, “It’s been years since I’ve seen them.”
“Oh...” he says softly, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked about my family. I—“
“It’s okay,” you rush to assure him. “Really, it’s okay. It doesn’t bother me anymore... And I like hearing about the things you love.”
Jimin becomes bashful, the sorrow in his expression gone completely as he finishes up a fajita with his cheeks now tinted a soft pink. You do the same, almost giggling at the small smile he tries to hide but fails. After he excuses himself to the bathroom, you take both of your now empty plates and glasses to the sink to wash.
As you scrub the dishes, you can’t help but miss doing this. Of course, it wasn’t something you really cared for when you were still human, but you didn’t need food after turning, so dishes were just for show after that. It’s something so human, something you once took for granted.
“Ah, ____, you don’t have to do all that,” Jimin says after walking out to see you standing over the sink with your hands in bubbly water.
“It’s the least I can do after you cooked for me—which was so good, just like I knew it would be,” you say, glancing at him with a smile to see the one he already has on his face.
You see him at the corner of your eye, looking at your side profile as if committing every curve to memory. Once you dry the last glass along with your hands, he takes them in his, leaving you surprised.
“Thank you,” he says, rubbing his thumbs—one of which is now wrapped with a small band-aid—over the back of your hands. “You’re always so cold,” he comments with furrowed brows.
“Yeah, I guess it just takes me a while to warm up.” And it’s true, although your body temperature is significantly lower than the living, you’re still able to warm up under certain circumstances, but it’s only temporary. After a little bit more talking, telling each other how nice of a time you had, you go to leave, almost forgetting your jacket.
“Wait! Your jacket,” Jimin says, stopping you before you could even step a foot out of the door. You can’t even get out a reply before he’s putting the jacket on you himself, making sure it’s warm enough. “It’s the only way I can help warm you up right now,” he says, rubbing your arms over the jacket.
It’s not the only way, you think, and Jimin’s brow raises. Wait—oh fuck, you said that out loud, didn’t you?
“What are the other ways, then...” he asks rather quietly although his words blare in your ears. You’re stuck like a deer in headlights, looking at him with rather wide eyes as he anticipates your answer.
“Kiss me...” you whisper, eyes glassed over and reflecting any soft light. It’s all that you could think of, the first thing that came to mind, in fact.
There’s a hint of a smirk on his lips that you can’t stop yourself from looking at as he inches closer, you’re stuck on them until you feel his breath on your face. Looking back up at his eyes, he’s looking down at your lips just as you were doing to his until he meets your eyes again and if you could lose all your breath once more, it would be right now.
His black locks rest over his brows, slightly parted at the side, and shading his eyes to something you can’t explain.
And then your lips are locked with his.
The feeling makes your eyes flutter to a close, trying to memorize the softness of his lips. You’re both stuck still like that for another beat before your lips move, and it’s as if the motion brought you both back down to earth. His hands are quick to cup the sides of your face gently and you bring yours to rest on his sides, feeling the slight curve inward at his waist and it makes you grip him a little tighter.
Your lips are in somewhat of a dance that’s a bit out of sync, but oh so good. It’s when he presses into the kiss a little harder that you feel the uncomfortable stir in your stomach.
No, not right now, please, not right now, you think, remembering the food that just has to come right back up. But your luck seems to run low, and there’s another stir, this one stronger and forcing you to break the kiss.
Jimin’s breath fans on your face, a lazy smile ghosting his lips as his thumb rubs soothingly over your cheek.
“I have to go,” you whisper, eyes sorrowful as his face falls. It makes you feel like such a shitty person, but you leave a fleeting peck on his lips before slipping out through the door, also leaving him in a daze.
You don’t waste time getting to the house, moving in a blur as you burst through the door and immediately throw yourself over the toilet seat. Through your deathly retching, you hear Seokjin tsk from downstairs.
“‘S what you get for eating food. Can’t even close the damn door...”
“Fuck you,” you spit, knowing damn well he can hear it, and then literally spitting before flushing your earlier dinner down the toilet.
So much for being human for a night. If only you wouldn’t have eaten the food, but you couldn’t say no to Jimin either.
You scowl at the taste left behind and furiously wash your mouth before deciding that you needed a good bag or two of blood. And that’s how you spend the rest of your night, sipping on a blood bag from the cooler and trying to recall everything you felt while so close to Jimin.
It’s a cold morning. The subtle frost lines the windows of the otherwise cozy house. Well, it’s supposed to be, but it’s hard to be comfortable when the original is sat lazily on the couch with his fangs deep into his breakfast that lays limp over his lap.
“We have a problem,” Seokjin says after detaching his now crimson-stained lips from the body of choice, not even bothering to look your way.
“Which is?” You ask, moving to sit in an almost posh-looking chair on the other side of the living room.
“The local coven here is linked with the Kulvory,” he states, face emotionless as he drops the information on you.
The Kulvory is somewhat of a council of vampires, but are the most powerful and enforce the laws that keep your kind in the shadows. All of them are originals, and no official member can be one of turned. The only way a turned vampire can be a part of the Kulvory is to be linked with them, basically being their servants that overlook any area of which they’re ordered.
There are rumors about what more the Kulvory does with the vampires that might as well be considered pets, but no-one really knows the truth. Their secretiveness is what feeds into their power as they punish the traitorous beings of their own kind.
“And you know this how?” You punctuate with furrowed brows that the man across from you reciprocates.
“I don’t stay cooped up in this house like you think I do,” he says, moving his unconscious, but still breathing, victim to the other side of the couch as he licks his lips. “But as I was saying, this is a problem because for one, we’re breaching their territory, which they’re well aware of by now. And two, the Kulvory is after me.” His tone stays unwavering, not cracking a single emotion to you. You’re positive that he’s willingly given up his humanity.
“Woah, woah...woah,” you hold your hands out, thrown for a loop. “The Kulvory? What in the fuck could they want with you?”
He visibly sneers for a split second before clenching his jaw to hide his distaste at your seemingly genuine question. “I used to be one of them.”
Your eyes bulge at the new information. “And you never bothered to let me know that over the past half-century that you’ve pulled me along with your ass?” You scoff.
“It’s none of your damn business.”
“Oh,” you laugh humorlessly, standing up, “I think it is /very/ much my business if I could possibly be killed for being associated with someone the Kulvory’s after.”
You sigh defeatedly, looking away. “But I guess it’s a given. You broke away from them on your own, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Seokjin replied, tone icy. “I’ll handle it, so don’t worry your tits off,” he comments before disappearing before you in a flash before you hear his shuffling upstairs.
Going out in the middle of the day isn’t what you prefer, but with everything now heavy on your mind, there’s only one place you want to be. You’re just grateful for how cold it is so that you don’t have to show any skin.
You do have access to something that allows you to walk in broad daylight without getting fried by the UV rays, but you don’t have much. It’s an enchanted perfume of sorts, a liquid which was charmed by one of the many witches that Seokjin has come across and most likely pissed off. What a truly and genuinely dumb thing to do.
The strong smells within the familiar bar and grill greet you the second you open the door. The bartender doesn’t even speak as he immediately starts to fix your regular when you slide onto your usual stool. You aren’t even focused on what happens around you, stuck staring at a spot on the bar top as your mind races even when your drink is slid in front of you.
You honestly wouldn’t have minded the Kulvory hunting you down just a few weeks ago, so what’s happened? Why are you so worried about your undead life now?
“____?”
Oh, that’s why.
You’re pulled out of your trance of thoughts to see Jimin leaning against the bar with a tray of dirty dishes held under one arm. He seems confused almost, looking at you with a softness in his eyes that contrast the worried line between his brows.
“Jimin,” you greet, showing a small smile that was genuine, but all you can muster at the moment.
“Is everything alright? I-I mean, it’s just that you usually come in later when it gets dark...” He opens his mouth once more as if wanting to say more but stops himself.
“Everything’s okay, Jimin,” you give him another smile, “don’t worry, okay?”
He looks rather unsure, the crease between his eyebrows deepening before a voice calls out.
“Jimin! Quit flirting and get back to work!”
He gives you an apologetic look, backing up while saying, “See you in a bit? My shift ends early today.”
You give a nod, watching him disappear into the back kitchen.
“About earlier...” Jimin starts quietly.
You and Jimin are now snuggled up on his couch, watching a show that he told you he’s been hooked on. You both talk quietly to each other as it plays, even though you don’t have to keep quiet at all, you’d just started whispering to each other and never stopped.
“If it’s about the kiss... If you didn’t like it—“
“What—Jimin, no,” you interrupt him, sitting up and facing him with your legs crisscrossed, your knee basically laying on top of his lap. “It’s not the kiss. I more than liked it, actually.”
The flashing television screen shines on his face, illuminating the dark hair that falls just over his eyes and the delicate curves of his cheek in the darkness. He sighs through his nose, chest deflating with relief from how nervous he was of receiving a different answer from you. But now, a soft smile slowly appears on his lips and you feel the warmth of his hand as he rests it just above your knee.
“I was worried that I had freaked you out somehow,” he confesses softly, never breaking eye contact, “since you left in such a hurry.”
You watch as his lips move around the words gently and you have the urge to touch him, so you do.
Your hand goes to his neck first, not only hearing his heartbeat quicken but feeling it as well under the palm of your hand. You move it up slowly to the curve of his jaw just under his ear where he instantly reacts to the touch by tightening his jaw, eyes nearly fluttering to a close. It must be a sensitive spot for him, and you keep that in mind as you keep your hand there.
“Trust me, Jimin,” you say in a low voice, now so close that your lips brush ever so lightly against his as you speak, “if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t be doing it again.”
You feel his breath against your lips one last time before you close the barely existing gap between you. The kiss is almost a determined, moreso desperate one that has him grabbing for you immediately. His hands move to your hips where they grip lightly, gently tugging and bringing your body closer.
The rhythm was set, both of you simultaneously opening your mouths a little more to taste the other, and it has Jimin smiling into the kiss. It’s quite possibly a one in a million feeling, something impossible to compare, the stretch of his smile against your lips while they move together in a satisfying dance.
The soft hum that comes from him has you moving on top of him, knees digging into the couch on his sides and straddling him.
His tongue tastes sweet with the mixture of chapstick that you’re guessing is cherry. With your hands still on him, one on the side of his neck and the other still covering his jaw, you softly caress the sharp curve there and it has him nearly groaning. His arms are swift as he circles them around your waist to pull you closer, even if your torso is already pressed against his.
You suddenly jump, breaking the kiss at the sound of a piercing scream. Gasping, you look around frantically.
“Shh, it’s just the show, baby,” Jimin says, taking the hand that you’re unknowingly squeezing his neck with, and kissing your palm. His words and gentle kiss have you exhaling, now remembering the television show that was long forgotten in favor of making out. The sound of his heartbeat makes its way back to your sensitive ears, effectively calming you.
“Sorry,” you sigh, “I’ve just been a bit on edge...” Jimin’s face is slightly scrunched in worry, but doesn’t ask questions to which you’re grateful for.
“You could stay here for the night,” he whispers, his hand softly caressing your hip. The way he looks up at you nearly has you crumbling. He’s not only offering, but wants you to stay the night.
“Okay.” It comes out breathier than you’d planned, but you couldn’t dwell on it when Jimin suddenly stands, picking you up as he does and making you yelp.
“Jimin! What are you doing,” you giggle, holding onto him and wrapping your legs around his torso as he holds you under your thighs.
“What? You think I’m gonna sleep alone while knowing you’re in the house? Negative. You’re sleeping with me.” All you can do is laugh out in response, something Jimin hears for the very first time and decides then and there that it’s his favorite sound.
You miss the way his cheeks redden with a smile gracing his lips as he carries you up the stairs and to his bedroom, where you both spend the night wrapped in the duvet and clinging to each other like a lifeline.
Technically, vampires are beings that don’t necessarily need sleep, but it isn’t impossible to do. It’s not as relaxing as actual sleep, but it’s close enough for you. All you have to do is close your eyes, focus on a single sound or thought, and time passes just as quick as if you were asleep.
It definitely isn’t hard to do when you have Jimin clinging to you, hiding his face in your neck as you run your fingers through his hair until his heart rate slows to indicate he’s fallen asleep. His arms are wrapped loosely around your waist, steady breaths fanning along your collarbones, with a hand on the small of your back where your shirt slightly rode up. Your skin has long been warmed with his body heat and from the fluffy duvet; it’s the warmest you’ve felt in a very long time.
You keep your eyes closed and stay still when you feel Jimin stir awake. It’s long been morning and you knew that, but you wanted to stay in bed with him just that much longer. Also because you were wrapped safely in the shade of the blanket that blocks the rays of sun seeping in through the window and lighting the room in a golden glow.
You feel Jimin’s hand on your cheek and hear his heartbeat stutter, almost making you break character and crack a smile. What you don’t expect are the gentle kisses that he leaves on your cheeks—once, twice, three times, four times—and on the tip of your nose before he whispers.
“____... Wake up, baby,” he punctuates with one more press of his lips on your nose and you actually debate on whether to open your eyes or keep them closed just to keep the kisses coming. But you choose the first option in favor of seeing his sleepy morning face. And you don’t regret it a single bit.
Once you feign awakening, you’re greeted with the sight of Jimin with red and puffy cheeks, accompanied with massive bedhead that sticks up in every way imaginable. He lays on his stomach next to you, elbows digging into the mattress to hold him up in order to get a better look at you. The fond and sleepy smile that stretches his lips feels as if it could pull your still heart right out of your chest.
“Morning,” he whispers a bit raspy.
“Good morning,” you reply just as gently.
“You know,” he whispers, face inching closer to yours, “you’re very comfortable to sleep on... Definitely something I can get used to...”
Your thoughts run short before his lips are pressed to yours in a sweet kiss and he barely pulls away, only to leave a few more pecks. His good morning kiss leaves you smiling.
“Come on,” he says suddenly, jumping from the bed, “spend the day with me.”
You breathe a laugh, sitting up. “And what will we do?”
“Whatever you want, baby,” he says with a cheeky grin that has you covering the nonexistent blush on your face when you can’t hold your laughter.
“Alright,” you sigh rather contentedly until you remember the window that shines right over the path to the door. “But, uh, could you close the curtain please?” Jimin looks at you questioningly. “I’m still a bit sensitive to the light...”
He hums in understanding, yanking the curtains closed and stripping the room of sunlight. You crawl to the end of the bed where Jimin meets you.
“So,” he arches a brow playfully, “got anything in mind?”
The kitchen is filled with the scent of brownie mix and drowning in laughter. Jimin has picked up baking recently, and it’s so...Jimin. You can’t explain it any other way than that.
It’s been a while since you first spent the night together, and although the thought of the Kulvory still lingers, it’s been quiet. You’ve stayed at Jimin’s place more and more, even waiting for his shifts to end just so you can walk with him at night in the cool air. It’s been smooth sailing so far, the supernatural side of you rarely ever making an appearance, and you’ve dodged human food as much as you can. You only give in when Jimin says he won’t take his eyes off of you until he sees you eat something; always trying to make sure you’re well-fed.
He’s even called you his girlfriend in front of his co-workers, and when you brought it up to him, his cheeks reddened as he asked you the question that you thought nobody asked anymore. And then, you were all his. You could finally call him your sweet boyfriend and the thought made you giddy.
“Ah! Jimin, come on!” You yelp, unable to hold back the burst of giggles that come when he smears brownie mix on your cheek.
“____,” he laughs, “I think you have a little something on your cheek—“ he giggles mischievously, bringing a hand to your face. “Right there!” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he smears another streak of the mix right under the previous one, making him double over in laughter. You try your hardest to give him a death glare, but fail miserably and end up laughing with him. His happiness is truly contagious.
“You better clean this up,” you manage to say between laughs.
“Okay, okay,” he huffs, the earlier fit of laughter leaving him breathless as he stands straight again, a grin still on his face as he moves closer. He swipes his thumb across your cheek, gathering the brownie mix and popping it into his mouth. The action has you stuck in place, staring at him in awe. He does the same, seemingly stuck on your eyes until his expression contorts, brows scrunching and lips separating.
“What’s wrong?” You ask and he blinks a few times, still looking into your eyes as if he were seeing something he couldn’t believe.
“It’s just—your eyes, they’re—,” he hesitates, “they’re glowing...?”
Oh no.
You whip your head around, hiding your face from him. You know exactly what he’s talking about, it only ever happened when you felt enraged; on the edges of your pupils, the irises of your eyes glow a golden hue.
“Um, it’s just—“ You go to make an excuse until Jimin interrupts you.
“Don’t lie to me, ____...” His voice is low, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. It has you frozen, standing with your back facing him as he continues. “You’ve been hiding something from me...” He scoffs, “I’ve just been brushing it off because I was willing to wait until you were comfortable with telling me, but you’ve kept it up for so long. Like when we first met...I could’ve sworn there was no-one walking by me, much less someone to catch a glass in mid-air. And I know about the sink. How in the fuck you could’ve done that—I have no clue. You never eat—it’s just—“ he sighs. “I just want to know what’s going on. Especially with what just happened with your eyes.”
This is it, you think, this is the end of your attempts at having a normal life, a mortal one.
You let out a shaky breath, slowly turning around to meet the concerned and tired eyes of your boyfriend. “Cut your finger,” you mutter, taking him by surprise.
“What?”
“Just...prick your finger. I’ll explain everything after.” You give him a pleading look, effectively making him give in.
You don’t dare step any closer to him as he takes a knife from its holder and glides it across the tip of his index finger with a hiss. The scent hits you immediately, the same way it did when you first smelled his blood. It’s the sweetest blood you’ve ever smelled, and it doesn’t take much to trigger the dark veins and bright nerves that reach all-around your eyes in a horrifying sight. Your mouth throbs with the pain of your canines elongating, shifting to a point and you grab the counter for support.
Jimin looks terrified, bordering speechless. His eyes are saucers as he watches you grit your teeth in pain, showing the few sharp edges behind your lips. He backs up quickly, feet shuffling hastily until his back hits the kitchen sink while never taking his eyes off of you.
At that moment, you feel ashamed. You can’t make eye contact with him, especially with the horrified look he has as his finger drips blood onto the tiled floor. Your eyes sting with tears and your vision of the floor blurs.
“This,” you choke up, “is what I haven’t been telling you...” Your tears fall to the floor one by one and you watch as they puddle in front of your feet. Jimin’s heartbeat has long been quickened, and knowing that you’re the cause of this fear makes the beating pound against your ears as if the sound were from someone banging loudly against the door. His silence only forces more tears to stream from you. “Please...”
Your plead comes out in more of a whimper and you aren’t even sure what you’re begging for exactly. It’s multiple things. You’re begging him not to run, not to be scared, not to curse you for being the monster that you know you are. But you also wanted him to let you down at least gently because you don’t want this for him. He doesn’t deserve such a burden, and the life that comes with it...he deserves so much better.
These thoughts swim through your mind, clouding your senses along with the sobs that you fail to silence. Everything’s muddled in your panic until you suddenly feel arms wrapping around your form.
“Shhh...” Jimin shushes you while pulling you into his chest, tucking his chin on the crown of your head. Any trace of the bloodlust is likely gone from your face due to the overflow of your stress and worries in the form of tears that soak into Jimin’s shirt. His aroma surrounds you, calming your sobs into silence as he squeezes your body to his. It’s confusing to you, why he’s doing something like this, why he even took the chance of coming closer to you even if he did messily wrap up his cut finger.
“It’s okay, baby,” he tries softly.
“No...it’s not. It’s not okay, Jimin,” you reply, voice wavering.
He manages to coax you into staying and to give him an explanation. That’s why you’re now both seated in his living room. He refuses to sit anywhere that isn’t right next to you, so you reluctantly let him.
“When...” he starts, not meeting your eyes and seemingly trying to gather his thoughts, “when were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t even know, honestly...” You can’t help but fiddle with your fingers in your lap, unable to keep eye contact.
“Okay, then. Were you...” he blinks rapidly, somehow in shock of his own thoughts, “only with me for...” He gestures to his neck and your stomach sinks.
“Definitely not,” you say. “I wouldn’t be able to do that to you. No matter how good your blood may smell to me, I will never hurt you like that. I’m with you because I genuinely came to like you way more than I probably should.” And you can’t help but think of how selfish you are for it. You shouldn’t have let it get to this point.
The silence between you has become thick, suffocating. You can’t stay here any longer.
“I... I think I should go,” you muse, moving to stand.
“____, wait—“ Jimin goes to stop you, but you just laugh humorlessly.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Jimin,” you exasperate, “you’re supposed to be scared of me!” Your shaky hands gesture in an attempt to get your point across, but it becomes futile.
“And what if I’m not?!” He snaps, rising to his feet. His aura makes it feel as if he were towering over you. “What if I may love you more than I’m scared of you!? What then?!”
You stare at him, dumbfounded and shocked at the backhanded confession. “What do you mean, Jimin...?”
“I mean exactly what I said.”
“I... I love you, too, but—“
“But what? ____, what else is there to argue about?” His voice is softer, his brows slightly scrunched in a gentle look of concern. He steps closer to you, gently placing a hand on your cheek. “I can see how much that part of yourself upsets you. And seeing you cry like that because of it...____, that hurt me more than anything you could possibly do to me.”
You sigh. “Alright, but I still need to go. I want to give you space to think it over—“ Jimin nearly rolls his eyes and goes to protest but you stop him before he can, “—and for me to think about it, too. Okay?”
His lips are in a tight line, but he nods in agreement. “Okay...” He pulls you closer and places a kiss on your forehead. “Remember, I love you,” he mumbles against your skin.
“And I love you,” you reply before pulling away slowly to give him a small smile and then run off, disappearing from right in front of him.
“Shit...” Jimin muttered breathily in awe, stuck staring at the front door.
Upon arrival at the house, your initial plan was to grab a bag or two of B+ then going straight to the room you stayed in. But that was quickly shut down as you see a group of cloaked figures standing in the living room when you walked in.
They all turn around towards you, allowing you to see a glimpse on Seokjin standing behind them, visibly stressed. They’re all vampires, you can tell that much, but their clothing was nothing but brow raising. It’s two men and a woman, all who have hair that falls longer than their chest, laying gracefully over their grey cloaks.
“Ah, Miss ____,” one of the men says in feigned delight, his accent thick and a sinister smile stretched from ear to ear, “glad you could finally join us!”
“What’s going on here?” You ask carefully, taking slow steps forward. “Who are you?”
“Oh?” The same man says, his expressions exaggerated. “Seokjin has never told you about us? Now, what kind of old friend does that?” He’s throwing Seokjin a look of disbelief as you begin to piece everything together.
“You’re from the Kulvory...” You state and the man visibly perks with another grin.
“So you do know! What a bright girl! But allow me to introduce myself,” he says, walking towards you. The quick action makes you take a step back. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” he winks, “I am Narcis, Head of Kulvory Council. And those are my fellow council members.” He gestures to the other two ominous originals in the room who only look down their noses at you. He doesn’t say their names as they stay quiet, so you guess you won’t be getting an introduction from them.
“Please,” Narcis says, “come join us.”
He holds out his gloved hand for you to take and you do so reluctantly, not wanting to possibly irritate the sickly original. There’s no doubt in your mind that he can snap you like a twig if he wanted. Leading you to the living room, you gently pull your hand from his surprisingly light grasp once you’re standing next to Seokjin, facing the three intimidating originals.
“We’re so delighted to have finally found our dear brother. I must say, you’ve hidden well, Seokjin. But not well enough.” Narcis drones on and Seokjin only tuts, looking to the side in irritation.
“Just do whatever you need to do, Narcis,” he spits, making a menacing laugh come from the said original.
“But we’re only getting to the entertaining bit,” Narcis says, holding his hands out in a motion of obviousness. He abruptly turns to you, saying, “The coven that takes claim to this town has informed the council that Miss ____ here has gotten rather friendly with a human resident.”
Your stomach sinks, a sick feeling stirring in you at the mention of Jimin from someone who holds so much power.
“Leave him out of this,” you nearly snarl, the response coming out without a second thought.
“I’m afraid I cannot do as such,” Narcis says, accented voice lowering. “All vampires know that it is vital to keep our kind a secret. So, we’ve decided to have mercy on you and went with the second best option to rid of this situation.”
Your eyes widen, anger and worry sizzling through you as you run to the front door. But of course, they’re faster than you, and the woman stands in front of the door to stop you. Your body reacts on its own, as if shutting out all rationality, and you jab your hand through her chest at a speed you didn’t know was possible for you. Her face contorts, jaw slacking in a silent scream as you grab her still heart and yank it from her body. You drop it to the ground and move her as quickly as you can and vanish through the door.
The other remaining original moves to chase after you, but is stopped by Narcis’ hand on his chest.
“There’s no need for that. I compelled a turned one to take care of her precious mortal, and to not fail.” Narcis says, looking through the opened door that you disappeared from, “They’ll both be dead before dusk.”
Everything around you is a blur as you make it to Jimin’s doorstep. You try to open the door, but find it locked, so you yank hard at it with with a grunt, the force breaking the door frame and allowing you to open the door. The sound of Jimin’s erratic heartbeat is the first thing you hear and you don’t waste a second in finding him in the kitchen.
A vampire you don’t recognize holds Jimin up against the fridge, hand locked around his throat. The sight only angers you more along with the sound of Jimin choking as he tries to pull free from the being’s grasp. You’re quick to knock the vampire off of him, pinning him against the counter. But you don’t do it hard enough, and he throws you against the opposite wall where your body collides and damages it.
Quick to recover, you rush across the room and grab his neck, squeezing and gritting your teeth with the effort. And then you hear a loud snap, followed by a burning and stinging sensation in your forearm that holds the vampire. He laughs as you scream in pain, and takes the chance to tackle you to the ground, where he now has you in a chokehold. You struggle to think of something, but then notice him straddling your waist. In a quick attempt, you bring your knee up to hit him in the groin. He only groans in pain, curling in on himself slightly and loosening his hold on your neck. You look to your side to see a wooden stool and make quick work of snapping off a leg to jab into him. But he was faster than you and swatted the stake out of your hand, making it fly across the room. You don’t see where it lands because he suddenly has you pinned against the wall that he threw you against, in a similar position that he had Jimin in just a few moments ago.
“You bitch!!” He growls at you, face contorted in anger as he squeezes your neck tighter and tighter. “Come on, just break already!”
You struggle, your eyes shut tightly as you try to focus, but it becomes hard when you can feel your skull wanting to snap from your spine. A whimper escapes past your lips when it becomes too much, but then his hold on you suddenly fades.
You open your eyes, confused. The vampire before you seems to be struggling and his hand drops from you completely when you hear horrifying snaps. Looking down, you see the crimson tip of a stake poking out from his chest before he falls to the ground completely. Jimin stands behind where the, now dead, vampire was, visibly shaken. You immediately take him into your arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him impossibly close to you.
“Jimin...” you mumble into his shoulder, hearing his heart still beating fast and unstable, his blood rushing with what must be adrenaline. He wraps his arms around your waist, squeezing and letting out a shaky exhale.
“Are you okay?” He asks, worry laced heavily in his tone.
“Me?!” You cry out in disbelief, pulling away slightly to fully take in his appearance, “Forget me, Jimin, how hurt are you?”
“I’m fine, ____, really,” he tries to reassure, but you aren’t having it. His voice is slightly hoarse and there’s an evident mark forming across his neck that makes anger and guilt simmer within you once again. “It doesn’t hurt, I promise...”
You can’t help the tears that form as you take in his features through blurred vision.
You did this. It’s your fault that he was almost killed. Your fault that he’s involved.
“I’m—“ a choked up sob falls from you, “so, so sorry.” You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the salty tears fall freely, only for Jimin to catch them with his thumb.
“Baby, it’s not your fault.”
“Yes,” you nod, not being able to look at him, and instead looking over his shoulder with teary eyes at nothing in particular. “Yes, it is, Jimin.”
He just sighs, knowing that you won’t think any different no matter how many times he tries to tell you so. Much like earlier in the day, he pulls you into his frame to let you cry into his shoulder. He’s more than okay with letting your tears soak into his shirt.
“This...,” he says, “was a lot for us in one day” He laughs softly when he feels you nod against him. “How about we go wash up and relax, hm?”
“Yeah,” you pull away, wiping under your eyes. “You go ahead before me, I’ll take care of this,” you say, gesturing to the vampire body now laying in the middle of his kitchen.
Jimin agreed easily. He would’ve refused and cleaned the mess himself under any other circumstances, but given that he doesn’t have the slightest idea of what to do with a dead vampire, he just lets you do what you needed to.
And once done, you let yourself bask in the warmth of the bath Jimin draws for the both of you. His hands run up and down your back soothingly as you rest your head against his chest, the smell of soap tickling your senses, and you didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Surprisingly, things have been calm.
Since the day everything happened, Jimin insisted that you move in with him. You had tried to talk him out of it, but he got you to agree with saying you’d be at his house every day whether you moved in or not. What you didn’t expect though, was for Seokjin to let you go. But of course, he didn’t let you leave without saying, “You’ll be on your own, don’t come crawling back.”
And as much as you might miss his jackass comments, you don’t think you’ll be going back any time soon. Especially since he left town in the search for a new place after escaping the grasps of the Kulvory.
Now, though, you couldn’t be more content. Even with the familiar winter air that has since warmed into a May spring.
Jimin’s hands massage your hips with your knees placed on either side of him in a straddle, digging into the bed under you. Make out sessions like this happen more often than not now, but you’re definitely not complaining.
It was just as Jimin started to lean back on the bed that he pulled away gently.
“____...”
“Hm?” You hum, eyes still trained on his now swollen lips.
“I’ve been thinking...a lot about this, actually. And uh...” He pauses, finding it hard to say it to you.
You bring your hand up, under his jaw in that one spot that has him pushing further into your touch, mainly in an attempt to coax the words out of him. Your gaze is soft, a reassurance to him, and he finally spills.
“I want you to turn me...,” he says without a stutter and your hand halts its loving strokes. He’s offered his own blood before, stating that the blood bags you survive on couldn’t possibly be enough for you. Of course, you declined him. You couldn’t risk hurting him, and you didn’t want to make your boyfriend your food, either.
“Jimin...,” you sigh, “I can’t do that...”
“What do you mean?” He asks, brows scrunched in that cute way you’ve become so fond of.
“I mean...you deserve to be alive,” you explain, making sure to not break eye contact to show just how serious you are. Your hand moves down to his arm as you continue, “You have a warmth—a glow—that comes with living, and I don’t want you to regret giving that up once it’s too late. I...don’t want to take that away from you...”
Jimin’s hand finds its way to the small of your back where he absentmindedly rubs circles with his palm, all while letting your words sink in. But they must’ve not sunken in enough.
“You wouldn’t be taking anything away from me, ____. I want this. I want to be able to protect you—.” You go to look anywhere but at him, but he doesn’t let you, his hands coming up to hold your face to keep you from looking away. “I don’t want to grow old, and leave you here. I want to be with you—I want you...”
There’s a pause as his lips press into a straight line, eyes strong with determination. You can’t look away, even when his hands fall from your face.
“The only way to do that is for you to turn me.” He ends softly. His words run through your mind and you let your head hang low.
“Jimin...did I ever tell you that I didn’t have a choice...” You look back up at him, seeing the way he listens attentively. “I hate being what I am—“ he opens his mouth to interrupt, “—even though you tell me that you came to love it. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want you to go through what I had to.”
Memories flash through your mind as you think back. All of the killings, the pain; you don’t want him to ever know what that’s like.
But he’s persistent.
“I won’t go through it because I’ll be with you. I trust you with my life, ____, please... This is what I want.” Jimin says, eyes searching yours.
You’d thought this would be one of the few things you could say ‘no’ to him for. You didn’t even think this would ever come up if you were being honest. But now, as he looks at you with pleading, loving eyes, all while asking you to do something you thought would never come, you hesitate. You actually hesitate to decline.
Forever with Jimin doesn’t sound bad at all. Watching the world grow with him by your side sounds like a dream. You could finally be with him in every way possible. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, and not only that, but you’d be with someone you love.
And all of a sudden, the weight of the pros seem to override the many cons.
“Alright,” you say, voice almost a whisper, “if it’s what you want.”
“It is...” he replies. You lightly push on his chest, urging him to lay down completely for his blood to flow evenly throughout his body. He complies, eyes never leaving your focused ones.
You let thoughts of him flood your mind. Visions of the life you’ll have together engulf you. The both of you doing new things together, nights of endless love in satin sheets, maybe even traveling together. You didn’t think being blinded by love was possible, but here you are. Your lips ghost the skin of his neck just as he speaks softly again.
“____...”
“Yeah?” You whisper.
“I love you.” He confesses with a tone that doesn’t let you doubt his words.
“I love you too, Jimin.”
And you let your teeth sink into the side of his neck. You hadn’t even realized that your features contorted as you fantasized of the life you’ll surely have with Jimin.
Once his blood hits your tongue, it’s euphoric. His blood is a glass of wine after a long day, the first breath you take when emerging from water, the warmth of a house in the middle of winter. It has you numb, all focus being on his taste. And you can’t get enough of it.
You bite down harder, earning gush after gush of his blood and you gulp it down greedily. Of course, you knew his blood would be sweet, but nothing like this. You feel his veins against your cheeks, popping with the severity of your sucking.
You faintly feel a few drops escape and glide along your face, coating your lips. It feels like forever until you pull away and slowly start crashing down back to reality. Licking your lips, you look down to his limp body. The sight sends socks of fear through you and has you leaping into action, biting into your own wrist and then forcing it to his mouth.
“C’mon, c’mon,” you grit out as you try to get your blood into his system before the punctures in your wrist close up.
Seconds pass into a minute, and then another, and nothing. You know that your wrist has healed by now, so it should be any second before Jimin comes back.
More seconds pass and you become worried at the lifeless eyes that still stare at the corner of the room. The same eyes that would glow in the sun, and the same eyes that held love within its brown irises each time they looked at you.
He still doesn’t move an inch, and you conclude that something is wrong.
“Jimin...” you call out, bringing your hand up to his now cold cheek. “Jimin, wake up now,” you say, now gently shaking his shoulders.
His lifeless form is what has you remembering a fleeting memory, a comment made by Seokjin mindlessly throughout the years.
“Turning someone is a power that can only be obtained after living a full century. If you try to turn someone at any point before that...
...you just kill them.”
And finally, realization dawns on you and pushes you down with its harshness.
“Jimin, wake up!” You cry out, still shaking him in a desperate attempt. Hot tears stain your face and drop onto his skin, and you don’t stop. You don’t want to believe that it’s true. It can’t be true.
Jimin will come back to you. Any minute now. He’ll sit up as if nothing had happened and take you into his arms. He’ll tell you everything’s okay.
But he doesn’t, and the silence that meets you wrings a cry from your throat. A cry that turns to endless sobs until your throat runs dry, and the tears litter his unmoving body; the love of your life.
Just across the street from the quiet church sits the town cemetery. Rows upon rows of neatly placed gravestones line it’s yard, some polished to shine, and some withered with grime.
In the seventh column, on the twelfth row, lies a new grave. Ingrained along the marble surface reads Park Jimin, October 13, 1995 - May 9, 2019.
Nobody questions the half-empty glass of whiskey that sits next to the headstone each May, and the ground never rejects the salty drops that litter its surface just in front of the grave on its ninth day.
c. August 2019
