It’s Friday, and Friday is always welcomed. It’s the last day of the week, the last day before he could be free of college responsibilities as well as the guilt that has been consuming him all week. Even if it’s just at least for a day or two, just enough when he has been so winded with what has happened before.

Taehyung hasn’t seen Jeongguk since Tuesday, since the day he’d made the latter uncomfortable, with his tears, again. And Taehyung is torn, torn between feeling relieved that he doesn’t have to go all the way to avoid the younger, and feeling torn for his urge to look for said male, apologise and make him understand that it isn’t Jeon Jeongguk, just him him him, just Kim Taehyung who needs to move on.

But of course he doesn’t, and Jeongguk seems too resolute about himself avoiding Taehyung too. It hurts, god, of course it hurts, because its Jeon Jeongguk, the man he loved—loves, but it’s fine. It’s for the best, he tells himself.

Jimin isn’t there too. It’s almost like the whole of Jeon Jeongguk’s Circle has vanished, as if they too, are avoiding Taehyung like a plaque. But Taehyung misses him, misses what he dares call as his friend now. And he’s so alone.

Yes, he has Yugyeom. But Yugyeom is all he has. He’s lost so many, lost the ones he cherished, and Yugyeom is all he has now. Mark is different, Taehyung loves him too, appreciate him too, but Mark is scared, forever scared and scarred, and Taehyung hates himself for it whenever he sees said male.

And Jimin is a nice addition to his dull life. He’s kind, cheerful, bright, beautiful, and pure— all the things that Taehyung seems to be attracted to, not in the way romance attracts him, sure, but more of a platonic pull that he hasn’t felt since he’s lost his humanity long time ago.

Taehyung sits alone for the rest of the week; body sags like lead and hours feel like days as he attends his classes. And being alone at the end of his Cycle is daunting, nothing to keep his mind a little bit sane—his heart races, his blood pumps cold, and his mind already exhausted from trying to keep himself whole.

The voice keeps coming back, still a faint echo in his deepest crevice, but it’s still there nonetheless, lingering and dawning. And it grates him like an itch, restless, hungry. Deep down, he knows, dread already threads its way into his mind. He knows what he has to do soon, but Kim Taehyung is too stubborn for his own good sometimes, and he feels particularly bad every time Yugyeom looks at him, sad and disappointed.

“Hey,” He hears the voice he’s missed, and his head springs back, wishing it to be true, that it isn’t his own mind tricking him to submission, because it’s done it before, once, when Mark—

“Jimin,” He exhales, relief flooding his system as soon as he sees him, smiling, sincere and honest.

“You okay? You seem pale.” Jimin asks, and god, Jimin is so kind, too kind.

“Fine, just—yeah. Never mind me. How are you?” You’ve been gone for days, he wants to say but doesn’t, afraid that it would trigger something he wishes he doesn’t.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, well, it’s Jeongguk—“ Jimin says, seems hesitant to even bring the name up.

And Taehyung, Taehyung hears his own mind hisses at the name, “yours, yours, yours— Shut up!”

“—He’s, you know, sick, again. So all of us have to take turns taking care of him. Sorry,” Jimin continues, oblivious to Taehyung’s soundless battle in his own field of mind. Yet at the sound of Jeongguk being sick, Taehyung finds himself seizing the voice back in tandem, eyebrows tightly knitted into a frown as he takes in the words.

“Why is he—“ always sick? He doesn’t dare to finish his question, shakes his head instead. It isn’t his place to ask, isn’t his Jeongguk to worry about, but he is, oh he worries, too much for someone he barely knows yet so familiar too.

“It’s fine, I get it. I’m just worried that you were sick, because you know, haven’t seen you for a while.” He changes his words and blinks. Jimin rubs a hand over his nape, sheepish in answering.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I would’ve told you, but I didn’t have your number, so—” He shrugs afterward.

“Oh—“ Taehyung exhales, albeit more of a whisper. “You, you want to exchange number?” He asks after, a sliver of doubt lingers that the other would actually want to but he dares to hope still. And Jimin just sends him that sheepish grin, beams brightly at the suggestion.

“Yeah? We’re friends now, right? In fact, it hurts my pride that I didn’t get your number the first time I talked to you.” Jimin complains with a pout and Taehyung giggles, wants to squish Jimin’s cheeks adoringly, slowly he feels his mind dwindling back to normal, even if it’s only for a bit.

“Right, Mochi effect.” Taehyung mumbles, grins just as they exchange their phones.

Taehyung is barely done keying in his number into Jimin’s phone when he hears Jimin comments.

“Tae, why do you only have like two numbers in your contacts? And it’s so cute! You named them Yugyeomie and Markeu?” Jimin chuckles cutely as he speaks. Taehyung shrugs as nonchalant as he possibly can, and fakes a sad look.

“I’m lonely, I don’t have friends.” He juts his lips into a pout and Jimin, looks just briefly sad at his words, before he beams the brightest and crumple Taehyung into a crushing side hug.

“But now you do! We’re gonna be the bestest friend, Tae! And you gotta name me something cute too!”

Best friends, Taehyung thinks, smiles earnestly at the thought before a frown takes over and he chews on his lips at the impossibility. Best friends don’t keep secrets, best friends don’t have to part, best friends are between humans, best friends—

Best friends don’t hurt each other.

But his mind, his inner demon, it won’t allow, not when he’s so starved, wants anything and everything. And it won’t let him off easy.

So no, they can’t be best friends, can never be, but Taehyung doesn’t say them. He just wants to relish in this moment of having a best friend, of feeling human, of feeling the warmth that envelopes him, just this once. Only this once.

But his inner demon is cruel, has always always always disagreed against what he wants, what he desires.

“Smells so good, so pure, need it, take it—“

“No!” Taehyung screams, breath panting harshly just as he forces Jimin away, the knock harsh and strong against the frail body of a human. Jimin falls hard from his own place, wincing in pain before he eyes Taehyung worriedly, looking up.

“Tae—?”

But Taehyung doesn’t respond, just shakes his head and staggers to stand. Sweats drench his body like rain, and he groans. It aches, aches too bad, and he feels his head pulsating like he’s being hammered. God, it hurts.

“Taehyung—“ Jimin tries to reach out, making to stand up in a rush, but Taehyung snarls his teeth at him, his growls alien even to his own ears, before he thumps a foot forward and he is jolted to somewhere at least far from his human friend in a blink.

A tug of war.

Kim Taehyung thinks that’s how it feels when it begins tohappen. It doesn’t hurt so bad initially, just a tingling burn to his skin, a foreign ache within his cold-blooded veins, and a constant pressure to his skull.

They are nothing too much, or nothing that he can’t bear—at least.

It’s the voice and the hunger that kills him quietly, slowly.

The tug of war between his two voices. The kind of war that the hunger always manages to incite within him, and then, the kind of battle that he had to fight against his own demon, to fight for control over his own soul and body.

Then all of the sudden, Taehyung can hear the voice echoes more intensely now, feels his eyes burn in blue flame, hates the way his chest throbs and thrums in this grating itch, and just desperately wishes that the tingles under the skin beneath the dark stars will soon fade away.

He knows where this is going and he fears it, fear of what’s to come if he relents to its call.

“Make him yours,” it whispers, echoes. “Just mark him and he’ll be yours again.”

It scares him. His inner demon has never been this starved, this fierce. The voice echoes in his head and through his bones, and they ache. They ache so much that it makes him hungry, hungrier than he is used to, and he’s losing control. He knows that.

He’s losing himself, feels it slipping away as if they were sand trying to stay in his grasp.

He knows he needs Yugyeom soon—now, it growls in his ears. God, he hates this. He hates using Yugyeom for this, he hates making the other help him, god, he really hates it. But deep inside, he knows he has to—or else, history is, history is going to—

“Yugyeom—“ He chokes on his own breath, the hunger jabs at his nerve, hands cradling and pressing against his chest.

No, it’s too soon. Too soon— his mind thinks, jumbled as he drags himself against the wall, vision swimming within its blue haze. His fingers try to grapple unto the wall, trying to hold onto something, but nothing catches and he stumbles again.

Another stab to his chest and a stronger, lingering burn under his skin just beneath his dark stars, and Taehyung doesn’t think he could last any longer. He’s scared, so so scared—

“Yugyeo—“ He tries again, calls out and out, but the soft whimper doesn’t deliver, not to the right person at least.

“Tae—Taehyung! What the ?” He hears Jimin’s frantic, breathless voice just as he feels strong arms pulling him upward, bracing him against a solid figure. God, why is Jimin here? He can’t be here, can’t.

“It smells, smells so good, so pure, so bad—No!” Taehyung tries, shutting his eyes tight, shaking his head harshly as if that would make the voice goes away, out of his head.

“Ji-Jimin—“ He wants to warn the other, but he sounds so pathetic, like he’s whining and grappling for help. But Taehyung needs him to leave, leave before he can ruin anything precious between them.

“, Tae, what’s wrong? Are you okay? , what should I do? Do I call ambulance—, Tae, you’re so pale!” Jimin stutters, panicking at the sight of Taehyung’s pathetic self.

“Mark mark mark mark mark—“

“Ji-Jimin, you—!“ you have to leave, he wants to scream but his breath gets knocked out of his chest when he feels arms sending him flying into the closest wall, his body cracking against the sheer impact of the throw. He barely shakes his head out of the ringing headache when he hears Jimin’s loud shriek of “Jeongguk, what the —!”

“Stay the away from him!” He hears Jeongguk gnarls, eyes brazenly amber, almost burning in a flickering orange flame.

Taehyung looks up, his own icy blue eyes falling unto—

, no no no no no—

“Mark him, mark him, he’s yours, always yours, forever yours— Ours!”

Taehyung has to get away, he has to, but he’s so weak, and so strong. He’s—He can’t control it. His inner demon is pulling the reins now, he needs it so bad, the hunger is bordering painful and he can’t hear clearly, but Jeongguk is so so close, and he’s talking, saying something, and he’s just there, just a leap away from his fangs to reach.

“What the —“ He barely makes up the words. It’s Jimin, Jimin sounds so shaken, so scared. Of course he’ll be scared. Taehyung’s a monster, one without its leash, one without his Jeongguk.

“Chim, stay away from him.” He hears what is most likely Yoongi’s voice, rigid and stiff— and wary. Because Taehyung’s a monster, he’s a monster.

“ing hell—can’t you see he’s in pain there? Let me—“

“No!” Taehyung yells, screams, his deep voice roars louder, almost like an echoed explosion. “Stay—“ He groans, it’s just so so painful to talk, it hurts, hurts so bad, “—Away.” He croaks in the end, raising a shaking arm as if to shield, to shield them from him, shielding himself from pouncing on his preys.

“But—“

“Jimin, he’s a ing Moonchild! And he’s straying! You better ing stay away from him!” It’s Namjoon’s voice, stern and final, and Taehyung’s glad, , he’s so glad that someone knows to stop Jimin’s idiocy, but how’d he—how’d he know?

And a pained growl halts his terrain of thought, the hunger rakes through him as if his chest is about to split open.

“—where the is his Night? He’s straying so bad, he’s turning!” Seokjin almost cries, almost as if he’s pained to see it happening. But he shouldn’t be, shouldn’t because he’s just Taehyung, Taehyung who’s a monster, Taehyung who has nobody.

Jeongguk, his heart calls, eyes watching almost desperately, desperate for him to end this, to take his pain away. God, he needs Jeongguk.

Jeongguk Jeongguk Jeongguk—

But Jeongguk just stands, watches Taehyung warily, maybe a tad repulsed too, but he’s still watching, calculating and almost, Taehyung thinks amidst the pains, Jeongguk almost seems to twitch, as if he too is in pain, as if he feels it.

And Taehyung hopes, hopes that this is his Jeongguk, so he cries out—

“Jeong—“

“Tae, —what did you ing do to him?!” Yugyeom appears with a loud thump, landing ferociously just as he raises an arm, hovering in front of Taehyung, his eyes lit in dark shade of purple, protective an instinct he can’t and won’t refuse. He glares and snarls at the intruders, strangers.

“Y-you, what the—“ Taehyung hears Hoseok stutters, goes speechless as he instead watches them warily.

“Yu-Yugyeom—“ Taehyung cries, sobs, it hurts hurts hurts.

“— Tae, what’s going—“

“It’s here, it’s happening, too soon, too painful. I can’t—“ Taehyung pleads, fingers clawing unto Yugyeom’s shoulders. He feels his own impending doom before a stray drop of tear falls down his left cheek, feels his heart beat in sync with a rhythm he is once used to.

Jeongguk— Taehyung turns his head barely, eyes almost pleading, needs Jeongguk to do something, just anything, but the latter’s movements are stilted, his face somewhat a blank page as Yugyeom grips Taehyung’s wrist firmly where the dark stars lie.

“Yugyeom, no—“ Taehyung barely has a second to stop him before he wails, Yugyeom already sinking his hidden, protruding fang into the skin just over his wrist, breathing into it.

“Holy —!“ Hoseok curses, jumps in surprise just as others gawk at what’s happening.

“Yugyeom—s-stop—“

Taehyung really wants to stop him, but god, it feels good, so good to have his stars recounting back to its original element, giving him his sanity back, but , it hurts, hurts so bad to know that as he receives, he takes away too.

“What the hell just happened?” Namjoon curses, the others eerily silenced as they watch the unfamiliar scene unfolds.

“Tae, Tae baby, talk to me, something, anything—“ Yugyeom says, begs once he takes his fangs off, Taehyung’s skin already healing with a hiss. Taehyung looks dazed, hazed in a fit of pained tears down his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Taehyung cries, sobs but Yugyeom only shakes his head, purple eyes already fading back to its brown shade.

“Anything for you. It’s all for you, Tae.”

“I’m so sorry—“ Taehyung chokes, and Yugyeom smiles, and just as he turns a brief hard stare at Jeongguk, purple flashes back into his eyes albeit so fleetingly. And then he turns back, determination and sadness underlain the upturn of his lips.

“Those should be my words, Tae. I’m sorry.” He says, a whisper meant for both of them, but everyone hears them anyway.

And then he dives for the kiss, soft and chaste, long and bittersweet, just the way their lives have always been.