The cafe lies ahead, its pearl white paint glistening in the first golden rays of the day. Outside the sidewalk that is already bustling with people, the daily specials on a chalk board is placed near the entrance; attracting some customers occasionally. The royal blue roof is not the only reason why the café attracts so many customers- light jazz music, cream cheese smoked salmon bagels and coronation chicken baguettes are one of the few attractions of the café.

The bell jingles when the door swings open. Unlike the outside where the café looks fancy and antique-like, the interior of the café is warm and cheery with bright colourful lights and cream walls with wooden floor. At the glass-fronted counter is an array of cream cakes and pastries and the drink menus hung behind the counter for everyone to see. The aroma inside the café captures everything in there; the filtered coffee, the various cakes and pastries, and the refreshing scent of fruits. “Youngjae, why don’t you find a seat. I’ll order for us.” Himchan suggests, taking his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You want the usual, right?” Himchan asks, placing a hand over Youngjae’s back and slowly pushes the boy out of the line. Nodding in response, Youngjae quickly leaves the line and head over to the empty table behind a pillar. The tables are square with glass tops with recommended menus under the glass and small vases of carnation flowers on each table. Unlike other cafes, this one has slow turning ceiling fans above. Settling himself at the table, Youngjae drums his fingers as he looks around with mild interest and sees a family sitting not far from him; mugs of tea, glasses of chocolate drinks and plates of cakes and uneaten pastries sitting on the table messily. Their son has a smudge on his chin and Youngjae cringes when the boy wipes it off with his shirt before the mother notices it, fussing over it as she tries to clean the smudge off the shirt.

He doesn’t have to wait long for Himchan to appear with a tray in his hands; their drinks and food orderly placed on it. “Here,” Himchan says as he puts them down before going back to the counter to return the tray. Youngjae’s favourite, the Eccles cake; a sugared puff pastry with sweet currants packed inside gives off an aromatic fruity smell and Youngjae has to hold himself back from wolfing down the pastry while waiting for Himchan to sits down. As soon as the latter returns a, “I ordered some cinnamon buns too. Just in case.” is said to him. His friend chuckles at the sight of Youngjae’s twinkling eyes as they are glued on the laid out plates of cakes and pastries. The boy mutters a thank you afore to taking a bite of the cinnamon bun, moa-ning at the taste of it. The cream cheese icing covering the golden tops is so heavy that it’s difficult to take a bite without getting an icing moustache.

“So, what’s with the sudden outing?” Himchan inquires, shoving a mouthful of brownies into .

Smiling sheepishly to himself, Youngjae grabs a piece of tissue and wipes the crumbs of his lips afore to taking a sip of his refreshing drink. “Um,” He begins. “This..might sound crazy, but do you believe in mythical creatures..?”

“What?” Himchan chuckles as he shoves a mouthful of brownies, crumpling the wrappers and pulling a plate of cocoa buns towards himself. “What’s with that?”

Sniffling, Youngjae takes another bite of his bun as he contemplates what to say next. He doesn’t want to sound ridiculous, but at the same time he needs some kind of confirmation. “Do you think vampires exist?” He tries asking, looking at Himchan, his fingers fiddling with each other nervously as he waits for an answer. His friend on the other hand looks at him, a little confounded at the question. Youngjae watches his friend leans back in his seat, a sigh escaping from him.

“If you ask me, I don’t.” Himchan finally answers, but quickly puts a finger up to halt Youngjae from saying anything. “If you ask my grandmother, however, she’ll say otherwise.” He laughs, propping an arm on the table. Youngjae frowns for a moment before scooting closer towards the table with a mild look of interest adorning his face, almost causing Himchan to laugh out of amusement. “What? You want to know? What for?” He asks after earning a nod from the former.

“Just because,”

“Just because?” He repeats, voice laced with curiosity. “Okay.” He yields, raising both his hands up in defeat at the sight of Youngjae’s begging face. “Well, she used to tell me vampires lived deep in the woods, that is, until humans had knowledge of their existence and decided that two different beings could not live together. I think, something like- humans deciding to take this matter into hands and invaded the vampires’ habitation to get rid of them, happened. I don’t really remember.” Himchan sighs, putting a leg over the other. “She told me ever since then, vampires decided to hide themselves by living among us and pretending to be one of us.” He adds.

Blinking, the story slowly sinks in Youngjae’s mind and he sits a little straighter. From the corner of his eyes, he catches a young woman staring at them- her mousey hair flowing down her shoulders. She gives off an odd aura, however, Youngjae is busy trying to make some sense of what happened to him and relate it to Himchan’s story to even notice the way she stares at them. Whether he likes it or not, such thing might probably be true. “Vampires living among us..” Himchan chuckles, sipping his drink. “Can you believe it?” 

Maybe, Youngjae wants to say, but he keeps mum and wolfs down the rest of his food and drink. Their time at the café comes to an end half an hour later with Youngjae feeling like he’s about to explode from shoving too much food into his stomach. You can’t blame him though. Who would notice the amount of food you’re eating when your brain is busy thinking of something else. Something ridiculous. “Let’s go to the park.” Youngjae proposes when Himchan questions their next destination. The taller male says nothing, shrugging off Youngjae’s odd choice and follows the smaller male to the nearest park.

Entering the park, a slight breeze rustles the leaves making them fall to the solid ground one by one. Youngjae thinks this is the perfect place to clear his mind as he silently heads over to one of the benches. Once he sits down, a deep sigh leaves his abused red lips after being chewed mindlessly throughout their journey. “Vampires.” He mutters, almost laughing at how crazy he sounds like. Himchan probably thought he was out of his mind when he asked the stupid questions. Youngjae ruffles his hair with annoyance, feeling irritated when his mind won’t get the images of the snowy white male off. Glancing around the park, he sees vast of flowers, almost concealing the freshly cut green grass. There are children playing by the sand box and slides while their parents talk among each other. The straight gravelled paths are lined with deciduous trees and the colourful swings grow wings as it merilly jump up and down accompanied by kids with smiles from ear to ear.

Youngjae chuckles to himself when he remembers how he used to run to the neighbour’s house simply because they had a swing. One time, he was too excited and pumped his legs higher and higher, his hair flopping backwards as he fell off the swing- almost landing on his face if it wasn’t thanks to his quick reflex. He couldn’t recall how he felt when that happened. He only remembered running back home and banging on the door and when his dad opened it, the elder looked panicked at the sight of a bruised cheek and forehead. He got himself checked at the clinic later on before getting reprimanded by his mother for being too excited and careless. Thank god, he fell on the grass instead of a rocky surface or else his injuries would’ve been terrible. 

“What are you smiling at?” Himchan snorts, bumping their elbows together.

“Memories.”

“Huh.”

The calm relaxing shade of blue in the background supports the clouds and sun and the air is warm. There are vendors with hotdogs and burgers and vendors with ice cream and sometimes there’s always music playing from different source; clashing with each other. Gradually getting lost in his own childhood memories, Youngjae hopes he stays that way.

 

∞

 

“I’ll be home late.”

It’s the loud bang that leaves a hole in the wall, and the thump of the flying vase as it comes contacts with the floor. It’s the unapologetic 'I'm sorry', the oh so loving gaze, and the sigh of a very irritated man. These are the sounds made by the man that calls himself a father. Youngjae claims he isn’t scared of the elder, but it’ll take a blind man to not notice how Youngjae flinches every time he walks past the elder, how he avoids talking about the man and how he usually hides himself in his room as soon as he arrives home from university. As soon as the front door slams shut, Youngjae sighs heavily and gingerly stands up. As he descends down the stairs, he sees his mother’s favourite vase rocking back and forth on the floor while his mother stands by the kitchen entrance with a stunned look on her face.

“Are you okay?” He softly asks, the vase coming to a halt once he stands in front of it. He picks it up, inspecting the vase for any damage before putting it where it belongs. His mother watches his action all the while, her face breaking into a small, gentle smile before she heads for the dining table with Youngjae following from behind. “My class starts in an hour.” Youngjae informs. His father’s food is left untouched except for the cup of coffee and a sense of disgust builds up in him for a moment- disappearing seconds later after his mother cleans it up. “I’ll be home around seven.” He adds, sipping the warm coffee little by little whereas his mother hums in response. Youngjae notices the scrubbed and polished counters, the clean folded tea towel and the old dried flowers by the window replaced by fresh ones.

It’s probably their anniversary.

Repressing a sigh, Youngjae walks over to the sink where he quickly deals with the unrinsed dishes. His mother has her back on him and Youngjae isn’t bothered to say anything as he dries his hand before snatching his bag by the stairs. Bidding his mother, the front door shuts softly behind him and he peeks at the clouds swirling heavily above his house, the blue sky overtaken by greyness, a suggestion that rain might come sooner than he expects. A startling low rumble rings loud in the cool air and Youngjae pulls a hood over his head, sheltering himself from the oncoming droplets. It doesn’t take long before small pellets of rain fall like they simply can’t think of anything else to do. On the sidewalk ahead the uneven slabs have scattered puddles decorating it, and the familiar flash of police sirens are brought to his attention and he lifts his head a bit before returning his attention to his own feet.

There’s a part of him that's jealous of the car drivers, safe behind shatter-proof glass and painted steel. But then he recalls his father’s words, “I love the rain. Everything about rain. The whispering hum to the water-forsaken ground, the often unanticipated flashes of lightning or the rolls of ominous thunder. Aren’t they beautiful?” It might sound ridiculous for some people, but Youngjae feels closer to his father this way. Even so, there is no way in hell is he going to catch a cold from getting drenched by the rain.

By the time he arrives at the gate, he spots Himchan waiting for him by the entrance and a small smile dances on his lips. “Hey,” The other male greets, wiping the droplets of water running down Youngjae’s face with his sleeve. “God, your hair is wet.” He points out, fussing over Youngjae’s condition and telling the boy to take the hoodie off before giving the former his own.

“But-”

“You’re wet and the auditorium is cold. Put this on. I’m not taking the chances of you catching a cold and skip class like last week.” Himchan grunts, folding the wet clothing and shoving it into a plastic bag he pulled out from his own locker. As they walk through the corridor, the cold air breezing by occasionally has Youngjae shivering and he instantly shoves his hands into the pockets, the zipper pulled all the way up to his neck. Every day he wears the same shoes just for this journey. Once blue they are now a pale blue with smudges and the soles worn. Maybe he should buy a new pair. Although they can be quite expensive, they’ve last this long so it’s worth the money. The auditorium is bustling with orchestra-like hums of several dozens of voices. “Have you done the work Mr. Hong gave last week?” Himchan questions while wearing a worried look on his face.

“Yeah. Judging from your face, you probably haven’t. Did you forgot?”

“I did.” His friend wheezes as his bag drops to the empty seat beside him. “I really did forget. I’m so dead. Will he be checking?”

Chuckling, Youngjae pulls the sleeves down till they drop to the tips of his fingers and rests the left side of his head on his folded arms. Looking at Himchan with an assuring expression, he says, “Mr. Lee didn’t say he’s going to check.” After the chilling weather outside, the air-conditioned auditorium only makes Youngjae shiver. As the minutes pass, an odd sensation creeping up on his back has Youngjae straightening himself up in an instant, looking around fervently. The silvery melody of murmurs from the front catches almost everyone’s attention and not too long after, a mop of dark and lustrous black hair appears amongst the gathering crowd of people by the door. Youngjae has his eyes trained on the familiar face. His heart is hammering and anxiety is travelling in his veins, but it never makes it to his facial muscles. His complexion however, turns pale, his gaze steady before letting out the breath he’s been holding.

“That guy looks pale as fu-ck. I wouldn’t have noticed him if he were to stand in the snow.” Himchan whispers, glancing over his shoulder to watch the male choose a sit. Upon hearing shuffling behind him, Youngjae can only pinch the bridge of his nose before he decides to at least hide himself by pulling the hood over his head although it won’t make much a different.

The murmurs in the auditorium only grow louder as seconds slips away with people surrounding the pale male with much interest. ‘What’s your name?’, ‘Where are you from?’, ‘You’re really pale.’, ‘You have beautiful eyes’; the cliché questions and compliments are thrown at the male who only chuckles before speaking softly, his baritone voice tickling Youngjae’s ears and causing the end of hair on his nape to rise. Subconsciously, Youngjae places a hand over his neck, rubbing the area as an indescribable feeling sets in. Oh, how he wishes he stayed home instead of coming to class. He tries to mute the noises in his surrounding and immerse himself in thoughts such as, how the did he get here. Was he a student before? That time I saw him at the field.. was he already a student or did he actually followed me here? If he’s actually a student, I would’ve noticed. Someone as distinguishable as him isn’t that hard that to miss.

Throughout the class, Youngjae tries to appear nonchalant although his heart is hammering loudly against his chest, the feeling so foreign to him. He can feel the other male’s eyes on him all the while. As a way to calm himself down a little, Youngjae has this habit of nibbling his nails and by the time the class is over, two of his nails look like a rat took a bite out of hunger. Himchan’s probably going to fuss over how unhygienic this is when he sees it, but what’s more important at the moment is to distance himself from the strange male. Shoving his books into his bag, Youngjae bids Himchan a quick goodbye and strides out of the class, leaving his friend slightly bewildered of his behavior.

Laughter sounds along the hallways, joined with excited conversations and shouts; a typical every day scene. The space if broad and straight like an old canal that cuts through a town, the floor looks polished and every step Youngjae takes, he can hear his shoes squeaking. Descending down the stairs, he plans to go to the garden where he can spend the two hours he has before the next class. The garden is better than anywhere else now that there is someone in the university who he prefers not to walk into. A tiny stream of light slowly comes into view and he can already smell the fresh scent of mowed grass and spring air. Before he has the chance to step into the garden, a hand suddenly reaches out for his arm, tugging him back and causing Youngjae to yelp in surprise as his back meets the wall. In front of him stands the person he hates to see the most. “What the hell do you want?” Youngjae hisses, swatting the hand off his arm while trying to not to be intimidated by the close proximity between them.

“Let’s talk.”

“ Fucʞ off you pǝrvert .”

“Pǝrvert?” The male repeats, his voice laced with amusement. “I’ve been called by so many names, but never a pǝrvert.” He says, peering down at Youngjae’s eyes as if he’s inviting the boy to have a staring contest with him. Not particularly liking the sudden dawn of silence, the male sighs and says, “As much as I prefer the new nickname. I’d rather have you call me Daehyun.”

Why should I care? Youngjae hisses on the inside. At the sound of chatters not far from where they are, anxiety builds up in him and he tries to push the other male away only to have his wrist caught in a tight grip. “Someone’s coming!” He wheezes, eyes trained restlessly on the growing shadows in the corridor. People are going to question him if he stays in this suspicious position and rumours are going to float around, not to mention they look like they are hiding from people’s eyes. “Fine! But let’s talk somewhere else.” Youngjae whispers with defeat, looking at Daehyun pleadingly. When a mop of dark brown hair comes into his field of vision, Youngjae feels his breath hitched in and all of a sudden, the world around him is moving, the images blending into each other like a mixed paint. Utterly confused and scared, he shuts his eyes tightly.

He dares not move, he dares not even breathe- he’s frozen to the spot. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, echoing in his ears...thump, thump. Fleeting heavy breathes sound nearby and the hairs on his arms stand to attention. Blinking his eyes open, they come to a focus at the sight of gray walls and a small window above. Reverting his eyes back to the person in front of him, Youngjae swallows his saliva thickly as Daehyun stares at him. Actually, staring isn't quite the word for what Daehyun is doing. His eyes rest, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect is soft and inviting instead of harsh. There seems to be no life behind those eyes yet they glimmer with something Youngjae can’t put a point to. “W-what do you want?” He stutters. Daehyun seems to snap out of his own world and he blinks once before tilting his head to the left and closes in, Youngjae putting a hand over the latter’s chest out of reflex.

“I’m hungry.”

“W-what does that g-got to do with me?” Youngjae questions, frowning at what Daehyun just said. “Can’t you move back?”

“Hey.” Daehyun softly calls, his voice reverberating inside Youngjae. “Can I drink your blood?”

“What?! Are you out of your mind? Get the away from me!” Youngjae yells, using all his might to push the other male away yet Daehyun barely budges. “I’m going to scream if you don’t move.”

“I could just kill you here, but if I do that I won’t have anyone else to feed from.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

Snorting a, “Nonsense?” Daehyun leans in much closer than before to the point their lips would touch each other if Youngjae were to shift on his feet. His eyes are almost crossing as he stares into Daehyun’s dark and cold ones. “I don’t think you understand anything yet. Should I show you?”

“Wh-“

Thump, thump, thump..... Looking at Daehyun with a puzzled expression, Youngjae tries to understand what the latter is trying to show by putting Youngjae’s hand over his own beating heart. However, the moment Daehyun brings Youngjae’s hand up to his chest instead, Youngjae’s blood turns cold. There’s nothing. He doesn’t feel anything beneath his palm. Not even the slightest beat of a heart. Is something not there or is it just his imagination? Heaving out a shaky breath, Youngjae’s eyes flickers towards the larger hand wrapped around his wrist and he dares not to look up as chills march down his spine. Daehyun’s hand is freezing cold; the sensation flowing through Youngjae’s hand in seconds. How could he not notice this the second time they met? At the sight of his own chest heaving up and down, while Daehyun’s on the other hand remains still, a scream threatens to slip out of his lips.

“Hey, I know you’re having a hard time accepting this, but I’m really, really hungry.” Daehyun states as he sniffles at Youngjae’s neck causing the boy to squeaks in fear like a mice. “I won’t drink as much as last time so you won’t pass ou-“

Youngjae passes out anyway.

 

 

Paralysed and cold, the boy on the floor tries breathing but the air just won't go in, like his lungs are surrounded by metal bands. There are shadows of birds flying and singing; the melody gives off an eerie feeling. If the birds seem unaffected, then why can’t he breathe? Why is it so hard? The sound of something scrapping from behind has Youngjae turned rigid, his eyes glued on the cold concrete beneath him. A shadow hovers him and he can only cry on the inside at the feeling of cold breeze- breeze? Blinking the tears away, Youngjae gingerly glances up and a familiar pair of gleaming red eyes stare right through his own. Normally things like this would scare him off, yet with his current situation, he feels a sense of comfort.  “Wake up,”

 

 

“Oi, wake up.”

His eyelids flicker open to dimly lit room, the coolness of the air and faint rosy fragrance. Aside from his own steady breaths there is nothing to be heard of and the memory of his dream gradually fades as seconds tick by. Rolling to his side Youngjae shivers at the feeling of the cold concrete and slowly sits up, rubbing the side of his head at the sore feeling. “You’re finally up.” A very familiar voice sounds, alerting Youngjae of the other male’s presence. Without thinking twice, Youngjae crawls back until his back hit the wall. He stares at the male in front of him with a look of pure fear mixed with confusion. Did he pass out? Putting a hand over his neck, Youngjae rubs the skin before sighing in relief. “I’m not that rude.” Daehyun suddenly says.

“Explain the first time then.” Youngjae hisses, hugging his bag to his chest. He averts his eyes when Daehyun looks dead straight at him. “Why didn’t you just drink?”

“I don’t want my possible blood bank to run away or worse die. I need you to stay alive as long as I’m alive.”

Blood bank? Youngjae scoffs, glaring at the latter with much irritation before he stands up. For a vampire, Daehyun certainly doesn’t act like one. Don’t vampires die when they come in contact with the sunlight? Don’t they only come out at night? Will they die if Youngjae sprinkles some holy water? What about bringing a cross with him? What about garlics? Will any of them work? Should he tr-

“You watch too much movies.”

“What?” Youngjae questions, slightly bewildered.

“You don’t even have to say anything,” Daehyun stands up and pats away the dirt of his pants before stretching his arms above his head. “Your face says it all. None of them work on us. We only die when-“ Stopping short, Daehyun clears and looks elsewhere. There is no way in hell will he tell a human how to kill a vampire. He’s only going to bring troubles to himself. Following a human and revealing himself to them is already troubling. Let’s not forget how he can barely drink other humans blood the past few days and he’s already starting to lose sight of his goals. They all taste bitter and nasty. Youngjae’s on the other hand.... “By the way, you missed your class and oh, your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.” Daehyun informs before he disappears into thin air leaving a trail of black dust and a dazed Youngjae.

Gaping at the 'magic show' that just happened in front of him, Youngjae represses a screm from coming out and quickly fishes his phone out. After replying Himchan’s worried texts and making up a lie by telling his friend that he had fallen asleep in an abandoned class, Youngjae immediately heads home. His mind is still full of thoughts of Daehyun.. of how it’s still pretty much ridiculous for a vampire to actually exist, whether he’s just having delusions due to lack of sleep, whether Daehyun is some crazy magician and tries to pull Youngjae along or whether it is all true and it’s just Youngjae trying to deny them. Either way, everything feels like a dream. It’s like Youngjae is still fast asleep in his room and just having a long and creative dream. Sighing exasperatedly, Youngjae rubs his face with his hand and stops in the middle of the sidewalk, almost causing the person behind him to walk into him. What intrigues him the most is when Daehyun told him he couldn’t drink anyone else’s blood after their first meeting. He wonders why..

The spring breeze tousles his hair and pinks his cheeks. The balanced warmth and cold gives life to the long grass at the side of the road; all green from the April sun. The strands sway out of time with the gusts brought on by the traffic. Youngjae stops by the convenience store; a cute little sign hanging greedily in the window, 'nice to look, nice to hold, but if you break it, consider it sold.' The shop gleams from the outside, but it has the sterile, over air-conditioned feel of a big boxed store on the inside. After getting what he requires, Youngjae heads for the counter where he sees an old woman, not the kind you pity with their old bones and feeble limbs, but the kind who could still run an army kitchen given half a chance. Her eyes are so heavily lidded and weighed down with wrinkled folds that it’s almost like talking to someone asleep, yet she is still quite alert. “Is that all?” She asks, receiving a soft ‘yes’ from Youngjae who hands out the exact amount of notes before he grabs the plastic bag and leaves.

As soon as he arrives at the doorstep, the sound of his parents’ voices rise above the sacred silence outside. The arguing comes right through the walls as loud as any TV show. He can get all the details he is never interested in; ‘you forgot our anniversary?’, ‘why are you yapping like a dog?’, ‘I’m just asking. Why are you yelling at me?’, ‘stop acting as if you haven’t been a lately’. The sight that escapes Youngjae's dry lips is slow, as if his brain needs that time to process what is happening when it’s just him feeling stress pilling up on his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Youngjae gingerly unlocks the door before entering the house. He can hear his father’s constant grunts and his mother’s soft sobs which he tries to pay no mind to. Just as he is about to reach the stairs, his father’s raspy voice echoes in the silence, stopping Youngjae in his steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

With his fists tightly clenched on his sides, Youngjae turns around to face his father- a deep frown marred on the elder’s face as his eyes bores into Youngjae’s. “My class just ended.” The boy answers, averting his eyes down at the sight of veins popping along his father’s neck. The elder clearly looks like he’s in a bad mood. Something must have happened at work. The thought of that makes the boy sighs on the inside, having secondhand regrets for his mother who probably chose the wrong time to talk about their anniversary. “Can I go to my room now?”

“You’ve been locking up yourself in your damn room lately. What the hell are you hiding in there?”

“Nothing.” Youngjae replies, glaring at the floor.

“You’re rotting in your room like a dead animal. Deal with your mother for once and see if you like it.” His father seethes, throwing a quick glare at his wife before reverting his eyes back to the boy in front of him. “All she ever does is whine, whine, whine. Cry, cry, cry. So hung up on me.” The elder scoffs, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up mindlessly. The smell of smoke slowly fills up the kitchen, infiltrating Youngjae’s nose and causing him to scrunch his face up in distaste. Nasty, he thinks as he looks at his father with a blank expression. “Won’t even pleasure me at night.”

With anger boiling up in him at the words leaving his father’s lips, Youngjae takes a step forward; noticing how his mother does the same as well probably out of worry. “Don’t talk about her like that.” He says through gritted teeth. No matter how annoyingly weak his mother can be at times at least she never gets drunk and complains day and night about how tiring life is. At least she never gambles and almost causes all of them to lose the house. At least she knows how to fucʞing take care of her family. His father on the other hand.. With his smoldering eyes, Youngjae tries his best to hold himself back from actually pouncing on the man in front of him when the elder laughs uproariously. Blowing the smoke out, he leans closer, perfectly composed and utters just three words, "I don't care." His fuse simmers and fizzes like a firework, then he explodes with unrestrained fury.

“Who do you think you’re ordering, you son of a bit-ch?” He yells, his heavy footsteps sounding so chaotic in Youngjae’s ears before pain surges up his face from the impact of his father’s palm. “Learn some respect, you fool.” Chuckling to himself, Youngjae holds his cheek and glares at the elder menacingly as he says,

“Not from you, that’s for sure.”

“YOU-“

The air is suddenly rent by the sound of vase breaking followed by a loud thump and a scream of surprise. The stoney silence is shattered when his mother comes to Youngjae’s side, checking the boy for any injuries and gasping at the bleeding palm. “You shouldn’t have done that.” His mother whispers and the pressure of this raging sea of anger would force him to say things he does not mean, or to express thoughts he has suppressed for years. “You fool.” She says, worry laced in her voice. He knows he has to get out everyone's way before he erupts in his furious state. He knows that this feeling will pass, but while it hasn't, he’s well aware he might hurt his mother’s feelings. Keeping himself mum, Youngjae jerks his hand away from his mother’s and stands up. He doesn’t bother picking his things up and runs for his room, ignoring his mother’s call.

“Let him rot in his room.” He vaguely hears his father says as the door slams shut behind him. His eyes drip with tears. His walls, the walls that holds him up, that makes him strong just... collapses. Moment by moment, they fall. Salty drops falls from his chin, drenching his shirt. Perhaps these tears will help wash the blood out. He presses his head against the door and lifts his chin up with hopes they might stop the tears from falling down. This is the first time that the elder hits him and it hurts so fucʞing much. Although he knows his mother is trying to calm the situation down, the least she could do is follow him to his room and cajole him instead of sweet-talk his father into understanding. That old fart will never listen so why is she even trying? The sudden appearance of breeze and the glass door sliding open has Youngjae looking up to see no other than Jung Daehyun standing by the balcony.

“You look terrible.”

Thanks, Youngjae scoffs on the inside, making no move to wipe the tears away. He stares straight into the other male’s eyes and quirk an eyebrow up at the sight of the latter staring at his bleeding hand instead. A knowing smile makes it way to Youngjae’s lips and he lifts his hand up to his face. “Are you that hungry?” He sneers, dragging a finger down his cheek to his jaw and shivers on the inside at the feeling and smell of blood. How the do beings like Daehyun love drinking this anyway? I don’t want my possible blood bank to run away or worse die, Daehyun’s words ring in his head. Eyes flickering towards the latter who is now standing a few feet away from Youngjae, the boy holds his hand out causing the latter to flinch back as he scrunches his nose. “Hey, do you think anyone would notice if I die?” He genuinely asks. He has no thoughts of dying now, but he wonders if anyone would even mourn over his death. Oh, Himchan might. His mother.. she probably will sob over her failure in not being able to be there for her son. His father probably wouldn’t even attend his funeral.

Running his long and slim fingers through his dark locks, Daehyun grunts a, “How would I know?” afore to taking a step back when he shuts his eyes momentarily. The hunger is ever-present; gnawing at Daehyun who shakes his head while grunting before he opens his eyes. They are the colour of crimson, twinkling in the evening light. His stare isn’t intentionally cold, but they radiate something Youngjae can not comprehend aside from hunger. Youngjae feels slight guilt as he realizes he’s probably taunting the male by holding his hand out. Somehow, at this moment, he doesn’t seem to care whether the latter is a real vampire or just his hallucination.

“Just..just have it.” Youngjae sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose of how ridiculous the situation is. “If it can stop you from staring at me like that, then just have it... Wouldn’t want it to go to waste anyway.” He chuckles mindlessly, staring at his blood-stained palm. Since its already flowing out of his body might as well give it to Daehyun rather than washing it off.

It’s as if a switch is in Daehyun’s head after he hears the invitation. Taking very careful and slow steps- as if he’s a hunter who is afraid his prey might run off, Daehyun keeps his eyes trained on Youngjae’s own pair and up close, the scent of rose wafts through the air before the male takes Youngjae’s wrist into his hand. His touch is gentle unlike before and cold. I guess he really isn’t human, after all.. Youngjae thinks. He watches the male presses his lips right above the pulse and uneasiness floods his system at the sight of fangs sliding out of Daehyun’s gums. fucʞng fangs. The latter licʞed barely anything and he’s suddenly way too close, invading Youngjae’s personal space. Breath hitching, Youngjae feels his head slowly getting turned before something wet glides along his cheek and jaw. The sensation disappears a moment later and his face turns as red as a tomato as he holds his cheek. Jung fucʞing Daehyun just licʞed the trail of blood Youngjae drew on his cheek earlier.

Considering the fact that the wound on his palm isn’t big enough to allow more blood to flow out, Daehyun looks at Youngjae as if he’s asking for a permission and without thinking properly, Youngjae swallows his saliva thickly and nods. Pain prickles into his hand and suddenly he feels a little light-headed – not enough to make him pass out, but enough to make him feel strange.

“This is so weird..” 

Word count : 6255

idk people. idk anymore. what am i doing. just a warning, i might update once a week. MIGHT
since I don't bring my laptop with me, I only have the chance to get a chapter done on weekdays.

Aside from that, enjoy this piece of mess yo~ /thisiswhyisticktooneshotficsdarnit/

p/s why do some of the swearings/words disappear after posting darn it

(I had to invert some letters so the words wouldn't disappear. does anyone know why this is happening?)