"what’s up with you? you ok?"

sungyeol looks up, the guy in the grease-stained apron that’s just come out of the kitchen to sit at the counter next to his booth watching him appraisingly. a waitress hands him a cup of iced coffee with a pat on the back which he accepts gratefully and takes a long drink, never taking his eyes off sungyeol.

sungyeol doesn’t know what to reply, so he doesn’t. woohyun pulls his apron over his head, not bothering to untie it at the neck, and bunches it up before putting it down on the counter. 

"what, you’re too good to talk to the guy who made you those?" woohyun mock-demands, raising his eyebrows at the basket of fries sungyeol has in front of him. sungyeol turns his head to look at the fries, and takes a deep breath. it’s now or never.

he takes one and puts it carefully into his mouth, and the sensations when they hit are like a truck slamming into him. the smell - the taste - the texture of them in his mouth - he must have eaten millions of fries before when he was still human but now - 

sungyeol doesn’t realise he’s until he catches woohyun’s eye, and the look on woohyun’s face shuts him up immediately. but he can’t help it - he was already going crazy earlier in the restaurant with the smells of all the food around him amplified a hundred times; which was probably why he’d looked like there was something wrong with him, sungyeol thinks in retrospect. 

"these are really good fries," he says weakly, wishing woohyun would stop looking at him like that.

", should i ask for a raise?" woohyun finally replies, slowly sliding himself uninvited into the booth facing sungyeol. "i mean, deep-frying is obviously the passion of my life but that’s the first time i’ve ever gotten a reaction like that -“

there has to be something sungyeol hasn’t figured out yet - how to look like he’s breathing, or how to not move with the preternatural grace and ease he now has, something - whatever it is, woohyun takes less than a minute before he stops in mid-sentence, eyes going wide and a tiny gasp leaving his lips, staring in shock at sungyeol across from him.

"oh," he says, eyes flicking to sungyeol’s mouth as if he’s expecting to see fangs any moment.

"i’m not going to hurt you," sungyeol says quickly, quietly, mind racing. he takes out his wallet and blindly fishes out a note - it’s too big for what he ordered, but he doesn’t care - and puts it on the table, getting to his feet. "please don’t scream."

"i don’t scream," woohyun sputters to life, the seeming insult to his manhood more important than the discovery that for the past five minutes he’d been trying to make conversation with a vampire. 

sungyeol gives him a look before he turns to leave, figuring he’ll take to the rooftops and let the darkness of the night do the rest of the work of hiding him in case this overzealous overly-talkative cook tried to follow him or set hunters on his trail.

"wait!"

sungyeol turns with a barely-suppressed growl. “what?”

"i have chicken nuggets in the back. i could do you some."

chicken nuggets? 

sungyeol whimpers.