I sense him before I even see him. 

 

 

 

His favorite real white gold watch clinks, metal against metal, on his left wrist as he walks into my office from the swirling snow outside. In this weather, I believe he’ll wear the black, heavy coat that I gave to him three Christmases ago because I deemed his closet unfit for the brisk winters of Seoul. 

 

“Just what I wanted!” he had exclaimed when I handed it to him, gifted in a large expensive-looking silver box with a white ribbon and bow attached neatly to it. The search for the present had been fairly simple: I lost myself in a large crowd of tourists, let myself be pushed and pulled into a gathering of expensive outlets, chose the most impressive store, and asked the over-eager salesgirl what was the most efficient winter mens item that they sold. 

 

“Idiot, what you wanted was a puppy,” I had replied to his comment and he chuckled. I can still remember the way he pulled on the coat, adjusted the cuffs while his bangs hung dangerously over his eyes, and smirked like a predator cornering its prey. His gaze was smoldering and irritatingly alluring.

 

“Nope, I lied.” I swear a look of hunger had flashed in his eyes. “What I really wanted was you.”

 

 

“Any news?” I was right, he is wearing it today. 

 

“None yet.”  I reply, lungs painfully taking in the frosty air and hands unsuccessfully trying to stay warm. 

 

“I’m bored.” He mutters and I can’t help but laugh a little.

 

“Yeah. No calls the whole entire day and...what are you doing?”  

 

“Your cheeks looked cold.” Jongin states (like a five-year old insisting he didn’t touch the cookies when there’s crumbs on the side of his mouth) with both hands resting on the sides of my face. The temperature difference is so stark and obvious that in no time at all my neck starts to sweat from the heat. 

 

“I think I’m good now, Jongin.”

 

A laugh slips from his lips like sunshine in a field of golden wheat, and his hands retreat back to the pockets of his coat. The unrelenting wind howls outside, flinging crisp snow from the tops of trees to the muddied ground. I shiver and for a brief second I wish he still had his hands cradling my face, but as soon as I think it, I cast it away with a slight shake of my head. 

 

“They should get better heaters in the agency.” I hear myself say.

 

“Why would they waste money on that when we already have ones that run fine? Besides, you’re the only one who really gets cold around here.” A scowl streaks across my lips in dissatisfaction to his reply. 

 

I settle into the fluffy, black lounger that sits near the only window that graces the walls of my office as I hear the rustling of fabric off to my side. Thoughts of warm coffee fills my head and I rub my hands on my knees to generate heat. Something hits me in the face then, and before I can yelp in surprise I realize that it’s only Jongin’s coat. It’s warm and heavenly against my cold skin, smelling of sharp cologne with a hint of sandalwood. I turn to him with a questioning stare.

 

“You said the heaters weren’t good enough.” Black hair lazily frames his face as he plops into the maroon chair at my desk. “Thought that would stop your ‘grandma’ complaining.”

 

“I wasn’t complaining. I was suggesting.” I mean to say it louder, but as the warmth from the night-colored anorak seeps under my skin, it comes out as a slight mumble trapped in the thick black material. 

 

There’s a knock on the door before it swings open, revealing the slender face of a mixed ethnicity woman with a shy grin. She steps in cautiously, clothes as thin as her delicate wrists and terribly impractical for the weather, holding a tray with two insulated cups of something that my nose recognizes as warm caffeine. Jongin greets her with a smile so sweet I’m sure I’ll get a cavity from overexposure to it. 

 

“Two hazelnut coffees, as you requested.” She says softly as she places the beverages on the desk in front of him. I recognize her. A pretty little thing with dark auburn hair, lightly tanned skin and slight Caucasian features. I believe she’s an assistant or part-timer because I’ve seen her somewhere before, just not anywhere important.

 

“Oh, great timing, as always.” Jongin responds and she blushes slightly at this. “Thank you, Hana.”

 

Hana nods, notices me, bows in respect and leaves. I shake my head slowly and laugh once. “She’d probably snap those Louboutin heels she was wearing right in half if you asked her to.” I watch him open the cap of one of the coffee cups, tear open the top of a small container of cream and pour it in, mixing the liquid with a tiny red straw. 

 

“Does it bother you?” He asks as he snaps the lid back on, glides the chair over to me with both cups, and hands me the diluted one. 

 

“What do you mean?” I sip the coffee impatiently and burn my tongue in the process. A corner of his mouth turns upwards.

 

“Are you jealous.” It doesn’t sound much like a question. More like a bored reiteration that sounds similar to the monotone voice of a student reading out of a textbook because the teacher asked him to. The cup is raised to his lips and he takes a large gulp from it. I wonder how he drinks it without hissing in pain.

 

“Terribly jealous. Is that what you requested?” I imitate the sugar-coated words Hana had used and he rolls his eyes. Jongin slumps back into the seat, a smile dancing on his lips while I say, “Your personal affairs have nothing to do with me.” 

 

Snuggling deeper into the plush recliner, I breathe in his scent off of the jacket. An almost inaudible laugh escapes Jongin and I don’t realize he’s leaning closer until I feel him breathe out, the warm air close to my right ear. 

 

“But my personal affairs have everything to do with you.” 

 

From this angle, the scarce sunlight flits in and turns his seemingly pitch black pupils into a caramel honey. He blinks and I can count every eyelash that kisses his cheeks. I taste the coffee and a hint of half and half. It reminds me of the countless times I’ve seen Jongin pour the cream into my cup of Joe, and never into his. He likes his coffee black, and I had once about it. Told him that the reason he liked it like that was because it was the color of his heart. 

 

I remember his answer: You aren’t too far from the truth.

 

Like a godsend from above, my cell phone rings and, much to my relief, Jongin pulls away to grab it off my desk to bring it to me. I hand him back his coat and get up. Throwing away the empty plastic mug, he and I don our winter jackets before heading out of my office. “Hello?” I answer the ringing, trying to concentrate on the voice on the other end of the line, but Jongin’s words still linger in the back of my thoughts.

 

But my personal affairs have everything to do with you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What did the coroner conclude?” I ask an Official in his mid-twenties. He’s young, yet I see some silver glinting in his hair.

 

“It definitely wasn’t human.” The man responds. I notice the nervous and uncomfortable glances he throws at Jongin, but my partner doesn’t seem to mind. 

 

“Alright. That’s all I wanted to know.” I dismiss and the Official, looking relieved, hurriedly scurries away, back into the busy bodies of the agency crawling about like ants. 

 

Jongin and I start to walk out of the alleyway as the body of a seventeen year old girl is carried away in a gurney, plastic tarp covering her face. One blue hand swings out from under the cover, shaking as rocks under the gurney send it into a fit of minor turbulence. The last time her parents will ever see her, is at her funeral.

 

“Did you catch anything?” I mutter under my breath.

 

“Yeah. It was definitely a Division III.” Jongin answers, lips slightly parted in an assertive way. “There was only one, a male, that attacked the girl, but he’s not alone.”

 

 

A few years ago, the government released to the public very private information:

That there had been vampires living among the human populace for decades, if not centuries.

 

Prior to the announcement, the government had formed a secret alliance with these vampires, to make sure the human community was ‘safe and sound.’ Burglaries and homicides took a sharp decline, tranquility and peace skyrocketed. But after a while, the partnership started to divide. Vampires who once fought for the lives of humans, started to kill them; humans who once promised to eradicate the evil, turned to the temptation of immortality and fed on innocent civilians. Slowly, the association became smaller as more and more strayed away. These rogues are now classified as Division III. 

 

After Division III was named, the government made an agency to placate and protect innocent civilians from these loose vampires. The newly formed covert group was called the SHC, or the Supernatural Human Calamities, who helped regulate rules and chase down the vampires that disrupted the safety of the public. The government had no choice but to expose their hidden truth. Some were outraged, furious about being lied to for so long. Others settled down into the comfort of their homes, peeking out from behind curtains and refraining from sending their children to school. 

 

It caused great civil unrest and the SHC was left to solve all the problems. They enforced schools to start classes of self defense, mass produced and sent out weapons into stores that basically anyone could use in case they were attacked. Security became a given; a specially trained field Official almost everywhere you turned. And so the public calmed down a bit.

 

Yet there are still some who fear even the good-intentioned ones. I see this as I walk towards the opening of the alley. Quick side glances at Jongin, a few muted whispers. It agitates me, all the misunderstandings, all the judgements that people make about those like Jongin. Here he is, helping us, lending a hand, and all they do is gossip, sneer, and gossip some more. If only they knew him.

 

Jongin turns to me with a chaste smile and pulls something out of my hair. It’s a snow crystal, intricately carved with sharp angles and straight lines. I hold out my hand and he drops it; the ice sways downwards to meet my fingertips. It melts into my glove and I decide to take it off because the water chills my hand. Before I can shove my hand into my pocket, Jongin takes it into his. Intertwining his fingers with mine.

 

If only they knew him like I did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m skipping and humming a tune that doesn’t match up with any song that I remember. The ground is covered in snow, pure white snow that crunches delightfully under my boot. I’m thinking of going to the store to buy a cup of hot chocolate so I take the longer route to my house. It’s fine, because I’m in no rush to go home. I spot the convenience store and giggle as I fumble towards it, slipping every so often on the slick ice. Almost there, I think, the warm smell of bread and chocolate so close I can taste it. I jerk forward as something holds me back.

 

“Want to go play, little girl?” A scraggly man asks. Two of his friends snicker behind him. Fear lodges itself into my throat and I shake my head.

 

“No, thank you.” 

 

“Oh come one, it’ll be fun. Fun like a day at the amusement park!” They advance upon me, towering over me and suddenly I’m claustrophobic. 

 

There is nothing like the feeling of total hopelessness. Nothing like the burning thought in your mind of somebody help me coursing through you. Help me, I pray even though I’ve already learned praying gets you nowhere, help me. Anyone. Help me...

 

“Let her go.” A soft voice demands. The three strangers whip their heads around to face a boy a little older than me. They laugh at his confidence. Laugh at how helpless we both are. 

 

“Maybe we’ll play with you first then.” One says, but before they even take a step, the boy speaks again.

 

“You will walk away and leave us both alone. You will forget this ever happened. And if you ever think of doing anything like this again, all three of you will slit your own throats.” Then to my amazement, they do exactly as he tells them to. 

 

I’m about to thank him for whatever he did, but he staggers like he’s lost his balance and falls to the icy ground. I rush to his side, slapping his cheeks, shaking his shoulders, yelling at him to wake up. After a few moments, his eyes open and I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. The most pained expression I have ever seen.

 

“Come back home with me and I’ll take care of you.” I say but the boy shakes his head.

 

“No. I’m waiting.”

 

“Waiting for what?”

 

“Waiting to die.”

 

Something slips from my eyes and it travels down my cheeks. “But you saved me. You can’t die.” You’re the only one that heard me. Please don’t die. “I’ll get you some hot chocolate. Don’t move!” I’m running to the store, moving as fast as I can to the heated drinks and then to the line. I bow, say thank you, earn myself a praise from the female clerk for my manners, but none of that matters. The only thing I can think about is the boy and how much I hope he doesn’t disappear. 

 

He doesn’t. I hurry back to him and he regards me with a strange expression that I can’t quite read. Handing him the glass bottle of hot cocoa, I sit on the ground beside him, ignoring the frozen numbness I start to feel. When he tries to persuade me to leave him alone, I ignore him and tell him I refuse to even think about heading home until he finishes the chocolate drink. Without a choice, the boy takes a curious sip and soon his cheeks are rosy and warm. 

 

“You shouldn’t be here with me.” He says under his breath.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’m not human.” 

 

“Then what are you?”

 

His eyes travel everywhere, the store, the street, everywhere but me. His lips move but the wind carries away the words and I have to ask again.

“I’m a vampire.” I barely hear, and I feel like laughing, except he doesn’t look amused. So I nod and continue to sit next to him. “Why aren’t you running?” 

 

“Why would I run?” I ask yet another question.

 

“Because I drink blood. Doesn’t that scare you? I could kill you right now.” His voice is cold, threatening. But all I see is a broken façade of a boy who pretends to be angry at the world. 

 

“But why should I be scared of someone who saved me?” It’s clear by the surprise in his eyes that he never reached that conclusion. He had saved me, and he hadn’t even realized it. I stand, brushing off the snow that sticks to my pants and hold out a hand. “Come on.”

 

“Where are we going?” He wonders and I shrug.

 

“Home, I guess.”

 

“You might regret this later on.”

 

“Maybe. But I don’t regret it right now.” 

 

He stays quiet as we walk. Peeking at me from behind his long bangs and then looking back at the ground.

 

“Jongin. That’s my name.”

 

Jongin. “Thank you for saving me, Jongin.”

 

 

That had been the first time I met him. I was eight, he was twelve. After that, I snuck him into the house, which wasn’t too hard because my parents were too busy fighting to notice me. I lent him some of my older brother’s clothes and for a full month, he lived in my room without my parents ever finding out. When their shouts could be heard through the walls of my bedroom, he hugged me close until my crying came to a stop. And then a couple of days before Christmas, Jongin and I packed lightly. I took a total of forty seven dollars out of my meager ceramic piggy bank, and just as the sun started to climb over the mountain, we both snuck out of the house. I thought of it as a good deed; I was lifting some of the burden of raising a child off of my parents shoulders. 

 

For a while we stayed in Busan. There was a lady there that owned a small orphanage for kids who needed a home. We stayed there under her care for almost a year. When Jongin and I decided it had been a long enough time, we made her a card to remember us by. She gave us twenty pieces of currency for our trip and we accepted it graciously. 

 

The next three years were spent slowly making it up to the city. Staying at orphanages for several months and then moving on. It wasn’t a good thing to stay in one place for too long. The things you leave behind has an uncanny way of catching up to you. When we finally reached Seoul, Jongin was seventeen and I was fourteen. He had gotten some jobs along the way, and earned us enough to stay at a cheap, one-room apartment for a few months. I remember both of us walking around for some place to eat when a tall guy came up to Jongin and said he was a recruiter. 

 

The man had introduced himself as Kris. “I think you’ll do well there.” 

 

Where was there? Some kind of restaurant that hosted to girls. At the time I hadn’t understood what that meant, but after several shifts of Jongin coming home smelling of food and perfume, I think I caught on. It was nothing at all like selling your body like that, but it was selling your time to women, so really, what was the difference?

 

Several times I suggested he look for a different job. Several times he shook his head. “It pays well.” And it did. After only a month, we had moved into a more modern, more expensive, bigger apartment closer to the heart of the city. It was also closer to his workplace, so it made it more convenient for him. Once or twice I had asked about his job, and it had turned his mood for the worst the rest of the day. “I never want you to go there.” Jongin said, so I never talked about it again. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. 

 

A little after I turned fifteen, I secretly followed him to his work. It was a modern looking place with dimmed lights. A bar could be seen from the glass door and after ten minutes had passed since Jongin went inside, I walked in, very naive and very interested in the new experience. I walked up to the bar when I spotted Kris cleaning the station. Luckily, nobody was there. All probably being hosted to by some good-looking ‘waiter’ or whatnot. 

 

“I’m going to have to see your I.D.” He said as he noticed me, but it wasn’t until I looked him in the eye did he recognize me. “Ah, you’re Jongin’s friend! Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” So I did. I slid into a barstool across from him as he washed crystal cups and wine glasses. 

 

“What brings you here today?” Kris asked and I shrugged.

 

“I wanted to check out the place.”

 

“Oh? What for?”

 

“To see what the conditions were like.” At this, he laughed.

 

“Does everything meet your expectations?” 

 

I took in the pristine, modern layout and the classy furnishings. “Yeah, I guess so.” And we both laughed because we knew that it was indeed much better than what I had been expecting.

 

“Hey boss, who’s that?” A golden-haired boy asked as he came out of what looked like the dressing room.

 

Kris gestured towards me and said, “This is Daeun. A friend of Jongin’s.”

 

The new boy walked up to me and grinned gently. “Well, I’m Luhan. Nice to meet you Daeun.” 

 

“Nice to meet you, too.” I returned the smile and he tilted his head.

 

“Are you sure you’re not his girlfriend? You’re awfully cute.”

 

I couldn’t stop the laughter. “Hah. No.” 

 

“Really? I would think that-”

 

“Daeun?” A very familiar voice questioned and I had silently cursed in my head. Jongin looked furious when I turned to face him. But that wasn’t what had bothered me. It was the pretty, slender girl on his arm. After a few moments of tense silence, he sent me a look that conveyed the message “This isn’t done yet” before walking towards the entrance while I sighed. 

 

“Well, . I've been caught.” I said and both Luhan and Kris looked surprised at my foul language before erupting into howling laughter. 

 

“Surprise?” I offered as Jongin walked back, mouth set into a frown.

 

“Really.” He narrowed his eyes. “Especially after I told you that I didn’t want you to be here. This isn’t a suitable place for people your age.” 

 

“Calm down, I just wanted to see what this place was like. Plus, I’m fifteen. I think I’m allowed some freedom.” 

 

“Freedom? And what if that freedom gets you hurt?” He crossed his arms across his chest, expression unreadable. I knew what he had been hinting at. There were others like him, who weren’t as nice and lenient when they were hungry.

 

Kris and Luhan had sat on the sideline, breaths bated and eyebrows scrunched in worry. Jongin looked into my eyes and I wanted to run away. And I was going to surrender, tell him he was right, but then, seeing my resolve starting to crack, he smirked. And I wanted that smirk gone. So I shoved him away and he stumbled back into a table.  

 

“Is this funny to you?” And then I stormed away. Not waiting for a response.

 

That night I slept in the guest room. Before, sleeping in the same room, me on the bed and him on the floor, was nothing awkward. We had grown up together, close like siblings, so the thought had never bothered me. But it did that day. I was consumed in my anger and didn’t speak to him for a few days. I’m not sure how long because they all blurred into one messy bunch of hours that I spent not talking to Jongin. Which a lot. It wasn’t until I carelessly fell asleep on the couch and woke up to a lightly snoring Jongin sitting on the ground by my side, that I first spoke to him in days. When I stirred, so did he. 

 

“Daeun, I’m sorry.” He took my hand and pressed it into his cheek. “I took it too far. Please, please, please talk to me. Please.” For the first time, I heard him beg for something. And for some reason, it made me feel happy that he was begging to me.

 

“It’s alright. Just don’t do it again.” I said and he smiled in relief. 

 

Noticing that it was early morning, I sat up and started to walk to the guest room to finish the rest of my sleep when Jongin wrapped himself around my leg. A little annoyed, I said, “Let go.” 

 

“No. What if you go back to being mad at me? Where are you going?”

 

“I already forgave you, Jongin. And I’m going to sleep in my room.”

 

“Your room? What about our room? See, you’re still mad at me. You don’t even want to sleep in the same room.”

 

“Seriously? I just want to sleep and I find that it’s comfortable being able to take up one entire room by myself.”

 

“Oh, so now you’re being selfish?” He teased and I rolled my eyes.

 

And just like that, we fell back into our regular routine of our playful banter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Goddamn it, Jongin. We’re going to be late!” I exclaim as I punch in the code to unlock his apartment door. After it clicks open, I rush inside and walk down a short, narrow hallway and into the farthest door on the left. He’s sprawled across his bed with the sheets hanging around his waist and an arm covering his face. I poke his stomach.

 

“Get up.” No answer. I poke him harder this time. “Wake up.”

 

“A good morning, Jongin would be nice.” He mumbles, voice thick with sleep. 

 

“I don’t have time for pleasantries. Get out of bed. Now.” I start to rip the covers away but he’s determined to keep them. “I swear, get your out of bed or I’ll-”

 

“You’ll what? Throw a fit? Kick me? Oh, I’m so scared.” Jongin tugs harshly on the blanket and I fall forward, ending up leaning on the side of the bed. Before I can pull back, he pulls me towards him, hugs my waist, and nestles his face into the side of my neck. I struggle but he holds me tighter.

 

“Five minutes. For five minutes just stay like this, and I promise I’ll get up without another complaint.”

 

“Three minutes.” I haggle, though I see no real difference between five and three minutes. I suppose I just want it my way. He chuckles, the sound dancing across the skin of my neck.

 

“Four.”

 

“Three. Take it or leave it.”

 

“Oh, come on.”

 

“What was that? Did you say one minute?”

 

“Fine, fine! Three, you win. Alright?”

 

Sunlight shines through the tiny spaces of the window blinds and falls onto Jongin’s shirt. The sound of the city waking up travels into the room and bounces around the walls in muted whispers. Jongin twirls a strand of my hair around his finger, breathing hot air on the side of my throat. 

 

“Why’d you get a different apartment?” He asks.

 

“People need their own space. Especially busy people with different schedules. It's probably better this way."

 

“No, it is not better this way. It’s too quiet all by myself. I don’t have anyone to talk to when I’m lying in bed or when I’m eating in the kitchen. It’s pretty lonely.” I feel him move even closer to me, lips brushing against my ear. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind sharing my space, especially if it was with you.”

 

I’m glad he can’t see my face because I’m blushing profusely. 

 

“Time’s up. Now hurry up and get ready.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“Hold on, you said that you wouldn’t complain-”

 

“I wouldn’t complain if we had agreed on five minutes.” There’s a hint of a smile in his voice.

 

I shove at him a little. "You little—I bartered for three and you accepted my terms!"

 

"I specifically remember you only negotiating on the time you allowed me to keep you by my side, not whether I would actually get up or not."

 

“Well, too bad. Get up.” I push him out of the bed, making him fall to the ground with a loud ‘oof’, and I head to the door. “And don’t dare you make me come back and tell you again.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Any leads?” Jongin asks.

 

“None other than the fact that it’s the same Division III vampire.” Luhan answers.

 

Just yesterday, yet another girl had become the prey for a loose, out of control vampire. I rub my temples, sigh, and then look around.

 

“This guy’s pretty elusive, huh.” Jongin mutters and I shake my head.

 

“Not for long. Both girls were innocent teenagers who had been out in this area at night, right? I’m betting that the next victim will also be caught in a similar situation.”

 

Jongin tilts his head in confusion before he catches on. “You aren’t saying that you’ll-”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

 

“No.” He says. Eyebrows knitted together in absolute refusal. “What if you get hurt?”

 

Luhan nods in agreement with worry in his eyes. I shake my head and take a sip from the warm coffee in a ceramic mug. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worr-”

 

“Don’t you even think about saying don’t worry.” Jongin says a little too loudly and it elicits a few stares from the people in the cafe. “Because I will worry. If that bastard hurts you I won’t be able to live with myself.”

 

“Your lack of trust in me is truly offending.”

 

“I’m serious, Daeun.”

 

“So am I.”

 

Luhan fidgets in his seat, uncomfortable under the tension that hangs carelessly in the air. The smell of warm bread and chocolate wafts from the kitchen in the back. Jongin crosses his arms, gazes at me in disbelief. I stare back, not wanting him to think that he’s won. Because he’s not going to. I won’t back down.

 

An upbeat ringtone weaves into the air and Luhan looks almost happy at the excuse to relieve some of the awkward silence. 

 

“It’s Kris. Says the agency needs me for a different case.” He gets up to leave, wooden chair scraping softly against the tiled floor, and starts to walkaway. Almost like an afterthought, he adds, “Don’t kill each other when I’m gone.” 

 

“You’re not doing it.” Jongin says when Luhan’s out the door.

 

“You’re not going to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

 

“Please, Daeun.” 

 

“Jongin, there is a rogue band of vampires somewhere out there. They’re killing people with reckless abandon. People are dying, and only more will keep being murdered if we don’t find the Division III vampires right now. If this is something that I can do to stop all of this, I’m willing to do it.”

 

“I don’t care about letting some more lives die if it’s a safer route.”

 

“I do. The victim’s family and friends do. Can’t you be less selfish?”

 

“The thing is, I want to be selfish. The thing is, I am going to be selfish. To me, your life is worth more than all of the lives in this world combined.” Jongin stands, the movement fluid and graceful. “The day that I met you, I hadn’t saved you. You saved me.”

 

“Jongin, wait.” But he’s already gone, the door ringing shut behind him.