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True Thirst

The angel had such a beautiful laugh.

It was enchanting, tinged with the touch of nature and blessed with the harmony of heaven, of which, thereupon, allowed it to be both a silvery peal of bells and a breath of fresh air—an exhilarating, infectious mixture that completely enamored him. It effectively caught the undivided attention of his heart and even managed to anchor that intangible part of him—his faraway soul—to the solid earth. Ears prickling with alertness, he waited diligently, patiently, for that angelic laughter again and was immensely pleased to hear it after a second’s pause; he listened to it in wonder. Truly, he couldn’t get enough of that carefree laughter, a delectable sound that was wordless music but could never be replicated quite perfectly with an instrument of man. No piano, nor violin, nor anything else could ever capture the emotion imbued in that lovely laughter that came from a captivating voice.

Warmth spread throughout his body, and he felt giddy, nearly blissful, and then belatedly realized that the warmth coursing through his veins was happiness. The sensation was abnormal for someone like him, but he didn’t care nor did he mind, for he knew, at least, that it wasn’t abnormal for this angel to make him feel this way. To make him feel so...alive.

He wasn’t supposed to be able to generate his own warmth.

But such a discernment was contradicted by the heat that swam in his blood now. It reminded him of those days where he’d been outside while it was cool enough to warrant a jacket, but he’d forsaken one anyway to enjoy the outdoors, simply wearing a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. The sun from above would bear down on him, shining brightly than any other day as if to entirely enshroud him in its heated embrace and kiss his exposed skin with its golden rays. But then the cool air would interfere, to protect him and tempt him to stay awhile longer as it caressed his bare arms and neck gently. He had felt both hot and cold simultaneously, and it was a peculiar but amazing sensation, one that had him greedily inhaling a huge gulp of air and dreamily fluttering his lashes as if in ecstasy.

That’s what exactly what this precious angel made him feel like. Hot enough to have him gasping, and cold enough to have him shivering. But no matter which way, he was helplessly disarmed and utterly undone, addicted to such an unworldly sensation that had him begging for more.

He wasn’t supposed to dream.

Where...?

He blinked drowsily, his eyelids drooped low and his facial muscles too numb. His vision was blurry and unfocused like a camera. He tried to count the seconds that his competence would return, but time seemed to go by too slowly. In his chest, his heart pounded frantically, despairing and wailing. It had lost something precious and couldn’t regain it back, so that’s why it was weeping in abandonment.

Why...?

He thought he groaned because he felt something vibrate low and drawn out in his throat. Hearing suddenly muffled and dysfunctional, he failed to quickly register that something, or specifically someone, was crying, vocal but wordless. There was also sniffling and sobbing intermingled with it. The sound was wretched and heartbroken, and it twisted his own heart painfully tight. His soul that had been anchored down was now being unforgivingly pressed down on to the earth, gravity unloading an unmeasurable amount of pressure upon him mercilessly. But while this was happening to him, all that mattered to him was the angel, who’d been laughing freely, was now was crying as if grieving for a long lost love.

What...?

Feeling as if it was his job, his mandate, to console the sobbing angel, he forced his vision to focus. Soon his view of his surroundings cleared up. All around him was absolute darkness. No light, no shadows, no laughter.

Before him, though, was a small, pathetic silhouette balled up on the invisible floor. Even from afar, he could tell that it was trembling, but whether from emotion or physical pain, he did not know.

Who...?

Mostly immersed in the cloak of shadows, it was difficult to identify who the person was. Perhaps a child? The child looked so tiny and helpless and pitiful...

No, a soft voice whispered in the back of his mind. Not just a child. An angel...your angel...

My angel? A muffled flash of urgency and worry thrummed inside him, but it was too contained, as if a thick pane of glass barred its touch, to be wholly felt. Still, he was aware that something was wrong. Something that nagged at him but couldn’t spell itself out.

He wanted to reach out, to touch the sobbing angel, to comfort it with his being, to dispel its sorrow with his warmth.

But he didn’t have any warmth anymore.

He wasn’t supposed to dream anymore.

Because he wasn’t human anymore.

That sudden realization was a punch in the gut. He choked and sputtered for air. The hard blow had forcibly dispelled all the oxygen he had stored in his lungs and left him disoriented. Already his vision was going blurry and unsteady. He panicked and tried to lurch forward. He wanted to desperately grab the angel before it was too late.

It was too late. Just before the tip of his fingers grazed the angel’s arm, he out. Darkness swallowed him whole in a single gulp.

...

That trademark pout weighed heavily upon his lips again.

Sehun had all kinds of pouts to correlate with his emotions. Since his facial muscles refused to loosen up or contract to form any type of expressive marker, the deciphering of his expression relied primarily on his pouts.

When Sehun was sad, the corners of his lips would deeply furrow downward as he pressed them together to withhold his sobs. Sometimes they would quaver if he was particularly upset. When Sehun was peeved, his lips would jut out and pucker up like he wanted to smooch. However, his slightly puffed out cheeks and the inward biting of his bottom lip contradicted that notion. When Sehun was thoughtful, his lips would twist up to a single corner, and occasionally he would gnaw on the inside of his cheek as he mused. When Sehun was happy, his pout would be combined with a smile, his lips pursed lightly together and the corners fractionally curved up. Everyone loved to see his happy pout because it was an adorable sight to behold.

Right now, judging by this pout, Sehun was...peeved. Very much so. And b with impatience.

It was cold, dim, and uncomfortably bare in the dungeon-like, cube-shaped room entirely made of smooth, unblemished stone. The only light source, which was very faint, was the flickering torch in its scone by the seamlessly shut door slab. Although the room was indeed hollowed out as a cube, by one wall a rectangular platform that was also carved from stone was adhered there. It could’ve been mistaken as a bench, but it was actually used as a bed. Because, for a punished individual, only an unforgiving stone bed was as much as they deserved.

There was a person sleeping on that same unforgiving stone bed.

Sehun currently hovered over the slumbering person anxiously like a timid young bird deciding whether or not it wished to launch into its first flight. His seemingly blank dark eyes were fixated on a slack, still face that was partially tucked under the blanket that enshrouded the rest of the sleeper’s body. The shadows that took up residence in the same dungeon of the inmate cloaked the latter in its intangible embrace, darkening his face and making the edges and slopes and curves more pronounced in the darkness.

Sehun grumbled.

There was a sigh behind the child.

The young vampire didn’t bother facing the other occupant of the room when the person spoke up in a clear, bored voice.

“Honestly, Sehun, no matter how long you stare at him, he’s not gonna wake up. At least, he won’t wake up any time soon.”

Sehun groused whiningly in response. “I know that! But I still wish he’d wake up! I’m bored, and I wanna play with him!”

The guard peered at the fuming child beneath half-lidded eyes, obsidian orbs reflecting the smallest yet sharpest glint of awareness that contrasted with a blank, lethargic expression. With his dark eyes and head of ebony hair, Jongdae appeared almost like a ghostly figure about to meld into the shadows that blanketed him, his moonlight skin painted like the night sky.

Upon hearing his young master’s complaint, Jongdae withheld a sigh of dry exasperation. Of course Sehun wouldn’t sit still and cease with his whiny chattering. As a spoiled and sheltered youngling, Sehun had yet to develop any discipline or restraint, considering that he had so little experience with anything and therefore had no chance to learn any valuable lessons. So all the adults had trouble dealing with Sehun when he threw tantrums or became disobedient. Unlike his younger brother, Kyungsoo had been an easier case to handle. Kyungsoo was much milder when it came to anger and had a sweeter quality to his personality. Yifan had once commented that Sehun was the embodiment of all the childish and selfish qualities of Joonmyun and Yixing while Kyungsoo was more like his mother. A tender, sincere soul.

I shouldn’t have brought him here, Jongdae thought grudgingly as Sehun, restless and eager, leaned over Jongin’s prone form, his probing gaze fixed on a slack, handsome face. The child resembled a young bird about to take flight, an aspect about Sehun that Minseok and Jongdae had always seen and associated Sehun with. The vampire guard slouched deeper into the wooden hand-carved chair that he’d been sitting on for countless hours, his legs stretched out before him and his chin tucked against his chest. If Joonmyun or Yifan find out that I snuck him in here, I’m doomed. Hm... But then again, none of them care to think that since they’re barely concerned about this newborn’s well-being. All they’re worried about is Kyungsoo.

A crease dented his forehead. Concern elicited the corners of his lips to tip downward. I wonder how Kyungsoo’s holding up. It must be torture, being starved of blood, especially when so young. Jongdae’s unreadable gaze landed on the newborn past Sehun’s hovering form. This kid hasn’t shown too many signs of waking up just yet, but I sense some movement and I can smell his anxiousness. Kyungsoo must be calling out to him unintentionally. I say it’ll be another day or two before he actually jumps up wide awake and demands for Kyungsoo. He chuckled sardonically. Oh, it’s gonna be great.

“Ah!”

Jongdae blinked in slight startlement at the sudden exclamation from Sehun, but his terribly slumped posture did not change at all. “What is it, Sehun?” he asked.

Sehun whirled around to face the older vampire with a bewildered, wide-eyed expression, although the rest of his face remained in its usual passive state. He jabbed a finger at Jongin. “H-hith eyes!” gasped the little boy. “I thaw them flutter!”

Jongdae noted the pronounced lisp that altered the boy’s speech when his emotions grew too potent. The guard slowly straightened up in his seat and inquired, “His eyes?”

Sehun bobbed his head rapidly as if he was a malfunctioning robot toy. “Yeth! He did! He did!” But then his pinched face, mostly his nose, scrunched up in puzzlement. “DaeDae, I thought es couldn’t dream?”

Jongdae smiled wryly. “Yes, that’s right, Sehun. They can’t, but there are exceptions to that conception.”

If possible, Sehun looked even more puzzled. He frowned and uttered, “Eh? Extheption?”

Jongdae scratched the back of his head as he contemplated on how to answer the child’s query. “Erm, hold on... How do I explain this?” he mumbled to himself before relenting. “You see, Sehun, it’s more like he’s seeing memories than dreams. He’s just been recently Turned, so his brain is getting used to not dreaming. There’s, of course, a high probability that those memories he’s revisiting pertain to Kyungsoo since their bond links their souls together.”

At that, Sehun’s sulky pout made an appearance, his bottom lip jutting out and tightened lines of disapproval denting the planes of his youthful face around his eyes. “It’s always about Big Brother Kyungsoo,” he said grumpily. His hand strayed back to clutch at the blanket draped over the oblivious Jongin.

Warning bells rang in Jongdae’s head, and he was quick to divert his charge’s attention, rising to his feet and coming over to the bed. “Anyway,” he purposefully said in a firm tone. “I think you’ve spent enough time dawdling here, Sehun. Your parents will be wondering where you were, and you need to disperse your scent around the castle to hide the fact that you snuck down here before you can see them.”

Sehun’s head of dark hair drooped despairingly. “Aw,” he uttered. He threw a wistful glance at Jongin. “Okay, DaeDae.”

The vampire guard relaxed minutely. He lightly placed an urging hand on Sehun’s small shoulder and prompted the reluctant young one over to the door slab. “Go on, then. And make sure to stay quiet, just like I taught you.” He held a finger to his lips for emphasis.

Sehun rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

...

It was too dry.

If friction had decided to take effect, then it would’ve sparked a wildfire. A rampant combustion of flames that would’ve blazed for hours on end due to the lack of moisture.

Yes, it was incredibly dry, but not like a desert because a desert was at least cool during the nighttime and had a blessed oasis hidden somewhere within its vast land of grainy sand.

There was no alleviating coolness nor a hidden oasis where Kyungsoo was. Heat was absent, thankfully so, but that could’ve been a welcomed distraction to his deliriousness.

He couldn’t remember where he was exactly. To him, his surroundings were blotchy and unidentifiable. His vision kept swimming as if he was bobbing out in the open water. Occasionally he would have bouts of pulsing pain and fatigue, only to black out moments later and unknowingly wake up to relive his days of torture.

Days where it was wretchedly dry, quiet, and lonely. And painful, because there was always pain—sharp, scratchy, and pounding.

If Kyungsoo could’ve seen himself from an outside viewpoint, he would’ve been astonished, mouth agape and eyes bugged out, at his condition.

The young vampire was unaware of the fact that his swimming vision was largely aided to his mindless straggling around the room. When barely conscious, he would crawl, roll, flail, and writhe at the most unpredictable times. His small, bony body should’ve been colorfully blotted with bruises and cuts if he’d been human for he would frequently, as if practically on purpose, bump into the walls and claw at himself; but since he wasn’t human, he would slowly heal, marks of his self-afflicted harm disappearing in a course of a day.

He could’ve healed faster if he had blood.

But there was none available. Thus, the unbearable scratchiness of his throat and twisting contraction of his stomach continued to persevere.

Every time he thought of blood, of how he was bare from any, Kyungsoo would keen loudly, almost monstrously, throwing his head back and letting out an unadulterated noise of pure agony. His cry would rattle deep within his bones and vibrate far and wide until even nature heard it and responded with its own sympathetic moans that traveled through the earth. His power over the very earth picked up the signals like radio waves, and he vaguely realized that the earth was frantic and helpless because it was unable to reach him, to comfort him.

How could it when Kyungsoo was caged in an underwater prison?

Considerably, it was a rather large prison for a child, cube-shaped with its three dimensions equivalent to eight meters and constructed of the strongest metal fused with other synthetic qualities to enhance its durability. The metal was opaque, so no light could travel through its thickness. The eight corners of the cubed prison were attached to big, heavy chains made of the same metal, and these chains were tightly secured to their respective corners of the dungeon’s walls and floors, making it so that the cellar looked free-floating when, in actuality, it was rigidly suspended in place. Adhered on top of the prison were several tubes that shared the same diameter of a baseball. These tubes were what fed the prison oxygen and cycled out other gases.

If viewed from a broader vantage point, one would see that it was a dungeon underground filled to the brim with water, and floating in that deep pool of water was a cellar. There was nothing fixed over the sunken dungeon itself, neither bars nor wires. From above, the pool looked dark and serene, its glistening watery surface untouched and glassy.

Kyungsoo flopped onto his back, drained from his recent bout of screaming and whining. Sprawled out like a fallen bird with his wings outstretched and his chest heaving as he panted, the young boy hazily stared at the ceiling of his cage, his unfocused vision making him even more dizzy as the shadows above him seemed to come to life, shifting and swirling in strange patterns. He faintly wondered if the shadows were going to pounce on him, eat him up as he pathetically laid there like the vulnerable prey that he was.

Kyungsoo was scared.

He wanted Jongin. His savior.

Because Jongin always saved him.

A whimpering cry built up in his throat, his heart-shaped lips quavering violently and his petite frame tightening with distress. He should’ve been crying tears of blood, too, if he had any to spare.

“WAAAAAH!” Kyungsoo sniffled noisily and harshly rubbed at his sobbing face with his fists. He kicked out his shoeless feet, throwing a tantrum outgrown for his age. “I hate this! I hate it!”

His sweet angelic voice pitched into a volume that was heard even by the dead.

“JONGIN!”

Somewhere else in the depths of the cold underground, the fingers of a sleeping soul twitched.

...

“Joonmyun? Darling, are you listening? Joonmyun?”

“Huh?”

It was unlike Joonmyun to be distracted, especially to the point where he forgot his current surroundings and previous thoughts since that was unbecoming of a leader and warrior of his age. But when cast into a gloom where he was admittedly ridden with intense worry and guilt for someone precious to him...he couldn’t help but to wander off in the murkiness of his mind.

He really was at fault.

Anyway, if it wasn’t for the persistent shake to his shoulder and the appearance of his mate’s lovely yet concerned face that slid into view, then Joonmyun wouldn’t have been able to snap free from his dreary detachment of the world. He blinked, half-blank and half-startled, back into attention and raised his chin to fully face his mate who hovered anxiously over him. “I’m sorry,” he said mechanically. “What was it that you were saying, Yixing?”

Seeing that the other had regained his awareness, Yixing relaxed marginally and leaned back, straightening up his posture where he stood before his seated mate. The two of them were in Joonmyun’s main office, the owner of the room situated solemnly at his grand desk that was arranged before the back wall’s large window. The violet curtains were drawn back into bundles to allow a screen of moonlight in, which dimly illuminated the quiet occupants and the sophisticated decor.

“I was asking how you were faring,” Yixing reiterated patiently as he primly perched himself on the desk (he knew Joonmyun didn’t mind it if he did that).

Slowly, Joonmyun shifted, breaking the picturesque moment of him being a still painting, of him all poised and elegant. He sighed softly, and his tone was hoarse as he honestly replied, “I don’t know. And you?”

Yixing shook his head grimly, his thin lips flattened out. “Same.”

At that, Joonmyun, as if to comfort himself somehow, draped his upper body on his beloved’s lap and wounded his arms around a narrow waist, squeezing it when he felt gentle fingers card through his locks of dark hair. Eyes closed, he nuzzled a toned stomach childishly. Only Yixing was privileged enough to witness his needy side.

“...Maybe we shouldn’t have sheltered him so much,” whispered Joonmyun. “I was a fool to think that Kyungsoo would be fine without harsher discipline. Originally I hoped that being aware of Baekhyun’s punishments when he was acting unexpectedly rebellious would serve as a lesson to our son, but I guess it wasn’t as impactful as I assumed it would be...”

Though still a depressed head of silky tresses, Yixing made a disagreeable sound, as if chiding his broody mate. Hearing that made Joonmyun turn his head so he could peer up at his spouse with half-mast eyes. He did not relinquish the possessive hold he had around the other’s thin waist.

“What did I say that you do not agree with, love?” the superior one asked in a low, soft voice.

Cat-like, Yixing bent his spine so that he hovered intimately over his mate, their noses almost touching. Yixing’s clear, intent gaze locked with a pair of curious, dismal ones.

“You assume that our Kyungsoo did not learn something from Baekhyun’s rashness,” remarked the copper-haired vampire. “But from what I see, though heedless and fanciful as they are, I believe that they gained something from finding their mates, aside from love and companionship.”

The frown on the superior one’s lips, though partially hidden by his sleeved arms, could been easily perceived by his husband. He gave a look that asked, And what would that be?

Yixing smiled sweetly, the kind that had a gentle edge and serene aura. He leaned down all the way to plant a hearty kiss on his husband’s smooth forehead, combing back the veil of ruffled bangs with his thin, long fingers as he did so. In response, the strong arms secured around him tightened automatically, but as an appreciative gesture.

“Purpose, love. They found a reason to live for an eternity.”

That answer had such a pure and honest intent in it that Joonmyun smiled wistfully. “Yes, forgive me for not taking that into consideration, my love.”

There was a warm, pleasant chuckle by his ear and Joonmyun melted helplessly at the sound. Graceful fingers traced under his jaw, wordlessly coaxing him to raise his chin, to emerge from his hiding place, and the enticing lips that were on his forehead slid down to meet his own.

“It’s alright. That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? To remind you of the lessons that we learned.” Yixing’s bronze-colored eyes were ablaze with a beautiful spark of fire, one filled with understanding and compassion.

Joonmyun pressed his lips firmer against the ones that were smiling against his. “That and everything else,” he agreed, wholehearted. Only Yixing can persuade me to think in a different type of light so effortlessly, he thought, not grudgingly, but gratefully. My Yixing who can be so defiant one minute and accepting the next. So forgive me, too, Kyungsoo, for I was a stubborn, hotheaded father to not show you the best and worse parts of being a vampire.

Again, he closed his eyes and laid his head contently on the comfortable lap provided to him. The gentle petting of his hair resumed its unhurried tempo.

You told me that you hate this castle, our home. But when you said that, you were yelling at me, at the top of your lungs, with tears in your eyes, and that made me wonder—no, it made me realize... It wasn’t the castle you hated, it was me.

Somewhere in his heart, where emotions dwelled and stirred together, where relationships that were invisibly linked rested, where he guarded the weakest part of him, there was a resonance, practically a pathetic little heartbeat, one that was in agony and despair and belonged to such a young, innocent soul.

It was desperate and scared and uncontrolled, crying out for him, pleading for him, begging for his mercy, for his love.

It was utterly heartbreaking to Joonmyun, but it was his fault, so he endured his own punishment, which he honestly and cruelly deserved in every aspect, the best he could. Every whimper was another broken piece of his heart. Every cry was a stab in the chest. Every scream was acid injected through his veins. Every call of his name as a father damaged his sanity.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Those howling cries continued on and on, tearing him apart, for days to come.

...

It was a broken song. A broken melody. The music box was playing out of tune, missing an important piece to its mechanics.

“Jong...in...nie... Y-y-you... Wh-where...a-are you...? I-I’m s-s-so...”

A sharp, brittle intake of breath.

“...damn...”

And a heavy, dragged out exhale.

“...thirsty.”

Somewhere in the impenetrable darkness, there was a flash of bloodthirsty red.

...Wow, I've managed not to be incredibly late, but still, my March update was postponed until April. SO SORRY ABOUT THAT. School and home life hasn't been improving for me, so I've been morally depressed and swamped with schoolwork. Here's a warning though: my AP tests are in May and my graduation in June, so I might be busy to actually update until the summer, but I promise to still be writing.

Anyway, I sincerely, to the bottom of my heart, thank you for being patient with me and for sticking around. I LOVE YOU FOR LOVING MY FIC! <3 I know I'm not the most sociable person ever, but I would like to say hi to any of my new subbies. Please do continue to support me even though I don't deserve it. As usual, readers, if you have any questions or concerns, please do comment, and I will answer you to the best of my abilities without giving too much away. That, or just comment for the heck of it. I love that, too. Hehe.

Oh, and I'm not sure if anyone has noticed, but there's only one more official character that still needs to be introduced. Can anyone remember who it is?

Until then, thanks for reading, my lovelies!!!

Reminder: No plagiarizing! No copying! No stealing! No translating! Tell me immediately if someone has done so!

cr: to real owners

(^Random, but I thought it was hilarious, so I put it there.)