It had been a long time since Kyungsoo had felt so hungry, and it became frightening when he considered it had only been a few days since his last ‘meal.’ But this was the sensation that drove him from the house so irregularly on a Friday night so soon after he had last gone.

Kyungsoo was very cautious by nature, and particularly so since he’d made a small blunder a few years prior. So going out again so soon after he’d last drunk put him quite on edge. Afraid to be seen by any regulars at his favorite haunt, it made practical sense for him to arrive at one of the seedier bars in the area. Although if he had truly been paying attention, if he had been thinking rationally that night, he would have realized how well he stood out in the crowd – his clothes were immaculate, dark, suave, expensive, and his face certainly did him no favors. Had he realized how attractive he was to the eyes of the young patrons he would have dressed himself down. But Kyungsoo was accustomed to a different kind of crowd than the one he faced that night.

The bar he chose was roaring with college kids, whooping and creating a ruckus. Kyungsoo, he himself realized, was a part of this crowd – or at least was pretending to be. But he was so out of his time that he could not even pretend to let loose in the way these Millennials did. He had grown far too old in both body and spirit.

Instead he observed them - sipping slowly and scarcely on a drink that tasted like ash on his tongue - and biding his time, looked for the perfect specimen to play his next ‘victim.’ Though that moment was not to come for a while on this particular night.

Assaulted by all the scents and delicious smells of the already crowded bar, he hardly noticed a few more slip in until a particularly loud whoop caught his attention.

Kyungsoo immediately recognized a few among the crowd of boys that had just been allowed in. There was Luhan, the football team captain, at the head of the pack and Kyungsoo knew that the entire team must have shown up to celebrate god knows what. Among the others were two seniors he’d shared classes with before, a junior named Jin who had once privately hit on him only recently, and two that he was very particularly unpleased to see – Sehun and Jongin.

His nostrils flared instinctively, and when he focused the latter’s scent rose above the rest, burning him. It was infuriating to say the least. He pushed his drink away in disgust with the intention of leaving the bar immediately when he noticed Jongin by himself, sitting alone at the other end of the counter, and he stopped in his tracks.

He watched, almost mesmerized - curious of sorts, as Jongin drank himself into such a stupor that he practically fell off of his stool and into the arms of a very beautiful woman. Across the way, Kyungsoo saw her clearly - thick makeup, short skirt, and a ready smile. He was sure that she was the kind of woman that came with a heavy price.

He applauded Jongin’s sense, even in his inebriated state, to refuse her.

“I’m not the kind of guy you think I am,” he heard him say.

“But you could be,” the woman replied, and any man would have been a goner at her invitation. And yet Jongin continued to resist, looking around the room for help. Kyungsoo ducked down momentarily, afraid Jongin’s eyes might land on him. But he was passed over, just as his friends in turn ignored his panic.

Kyungsoo had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that was born of centuries of experience, and yet he watched with relative ease as she lured Jongin away, dragged him out of the bar under the stares of all his friends.

He heard them clearly even through the raucous noise of the place, and their chatter rose even above the pounding bass that reverberated through his chest.

“I thought he was a little depressed earlier but look at him now,” said one, a voice he recognized from the first day of class – Sehun.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” asked another – one look told him it had been the pretty captain of the team. “What if they go back to your place?”

“Then we’ll stay out for a while, give him some time. It’s Friday, man.”

He neither wanted nor needed to hear anything further. Kyungsoo’s entertainment had passed and so had his hopes of snagging a ‘meal.’ He was far too concerned that someone here might notice him, recognize him from school. And so after the majority of the team had passed him by and ducked out, he followed them outside and turned in the other direction in case they decided to turn around.

That was when he heard them.

He heard them laugh. He heard them mock Jongin’s attempts to struggle. And yes, he had recognized Jongin’s voice right away.

He hadn’t needed to see to know it was him, for he heard those sounds every day in his waking mind – every day as he relived that moment he could never change.

Kyungsoo had intended to pass by. He had so intended.

And yet his feet took him in an entirely different direction, a direct path to the alley where the sounds had come from. Every step he felt it welling up inside of him – the bloodlust which he had learned to control coming undone.

And as he rounded the corner, it took everything he had to keep his cool, but even so it spilled out of him. There, on the ground, lie Jongin in a heap, men surrounding him, and Kyungsoo’s eyes seethed such a bloody red that for a moment he was unable to distinguish the past from the present.

He felt his spell slip from his grasp, and knew that for a moment his true form had shown through as he growled at them, voice low and fierce.

“That’s enough.”

“Well, well, well,” replied the burliest, apparently the leader of the pack, “and who do you think you are? Some sort of hero?”

“No,” he managed, the words set on the edge of his teeth. “I am nothing of the sort.”

Surely the man could not see him in the dark, but Kyungsoo had let himself slip up to the point of his hair turning white. His fangs had protruded and their scents which would have never appetized him before abruptly appealed to him, stronger than ever. He was suddenly so thirsty.

“Then move along,” the leader snorted. “Unless you want to end up like this er.”

Kyungsoo paused only a moment, so seethed in anger, and yet it felt like a lifetime had passed in that one single moment it took to control himself. Jongin was watching him from the ground, and though Kyungsoo knew the other couldn’t see him, those eyes were all it took for him to pull himself together.

“I confess,” he finally replied. “I do manage to misspeak sometimes. You see, that unfortunately happens once or twice when you speak more than several languages, so I’ll be as direct and clear as I possibly can.”

This was not him that he was saving. The past was the past and righting this wrong could not undo what had been done. And yet he so desperately wanted to save the boy that looked like him that he cast another spell.

He let his eyes turn dark, walking toward the men, and spoke just as he had been taught so long ago – he heard the frequency, the pitch, the tone of his voice change, and saw the men react accordingly.

“You are done here,” he said, and the men fell under his will in a daze like children to the Pied Piper. “You will return the wallet to me. Now, go home.”

As the men turned about face and trudged away, Kyungsoo finally let himself look down, and Jongin stared at him with such vigor, such life, that the bruises and swelling were hardly noticed. He searched Kyungsoo’s face, seemed to recognize him in a way above what Kyungsoo could describe, and then finally it overcame him, and his eyes rolled back into his head, falling to the floor.

For a moment Kyungsoo forgot his hunger, his pangs. There was nothing left in him but the intensity of feeling and the sight of Jongin lying on the pavement. He kneeled down by his side, pulled him up so that he was sitting against the wall, and then he froze.

In his hands, right in front of him, was Kai.

No. It was Kai’s body, or at least some revised version of it. And the rational being inside Kyungsoo decided without a doubt that even if they looked alike, the version he once knew was very much gone.

But he wished it was him.

And he imagined it was him.

And as seconds passed he couldn’t help but stare in this rare moment of tranquility. He could stare unabashed and with reckless abandon, and he could pretend that Kai had returned to his side. He could pretend that everything since had been a terrible nightmare, and that soon he would again awaken by his side, in his bed.

But reality was cruel.

He traced a finger down his jaw, lingering on the new yellow bruises, and he knew that this time of make-believe had passed. No, this was surely not him.

This was a frightened student, a student who had just been beaten, left to suffer brutally in a dimly lit alley – no friends or family to save him. There was only Kyungsoo.

But Kyungsoo could not be here, could not be his savior.

He turned to leave, but his feet froze, and something in him ached like it had not ached in decades.

He looked down at the man, cold and unconscious, and he could not leave. If it had been any other body, any other face, he would have walked away. He could have walked away. But not this time – not with him.

And so he did the unthinkable.

He called Jongdae.

-

Kyungsoo sat across from Jongin in the cafe – though he pushed back with his chair the small expanse was not wide enough a separation - with his hands tightly fisted in his arm pits, and as much as possible he attempted not to inhale. Although from time to time he had to remember that he must push his chest in and out to keep up appearances.

What had compelled Jongin to beg him to stay he would never know, but what had made him agree was an even greater mystery. From what he could tell – and smell – Jongin was no longer drunk, and he seemed to examine Kyungsoo with an intense curiosity that he intended to hide behind average, but well chosen, questions.

Initially, something had come over Kyungsoo.

He had answered the boy with utmost honesty and almost no ounce of care until his loose-lips were pointed out to him. It shocked him to say the least. And from then on his answers to the inquiry were chosen with the utmost caution.

Although, it didn’t seem to matter. Jongin’s eyes shined with every response he gave, and Kyungsoo came to understand that twinkling eyes were his by nature. He promptly made it an object not to make direct contact with those eyes again.

Simply looking seemed to enhance that sensation that burned so deeply in his throat – the itch that he had been prevented from scratching. His nails dug into his sides firmly, and his jaw clicked back and forth in an effort of personal distraction. All he must do was hold out until Jongdae arrived, then he was free to satisfy himself. But his tongue rubbed up against a tooth, pointy and long, that grew down from the rest, and he knew that he would soon be in trouble. That incredible hunger burned from his throat through his spine, settling in the pit of his stomach and curling his toes with the weight. Instinct whispered in his ear, tempestuous and haughty, like an old lover he’d once scorned. He could so easily give in.

He inhaled deeply.

The sound of a wheel turning on the gravel outside caught his attention and he stood very suddenly, startling Jongin. Jongdae entered then, as shrewd as ever, and wouldn’t let him leave until he’d spoken with Jongin. And by the time he was finally free and out the door, he could hardly be compelled to keep up his appearances, not when at any time he might lash out and lunge at an innocent’s throat.

The stale blood in his veins pulsed with heat as he walked quickly through the darkened streets, and he was sure his disguise must be wearing off by then. There was a flash of white in a puddle as he passed, and he halted for but a moment, startled by what he saw.

His hair had gone white as a sheet and though the puddle was murky his eyes shone a bloodlust that brightened their frightening color. His hands gripped and loosened in a cycle as he concentrated on his appearance, letting the feeling of serenity wash over him just enough that he was able to take hold of the power lurking within him and pull it out.

When he looked back down his hair and eyes had returned to those lackluster dark things that seemed to camouflage him so well, and he stayed staring as he reflected.

He could remember but only one other instance in which he had so little self-control – one instance in which he had been just as hungry.

---

1733, the country presently known as Austria

His shirt, once white and now blackened and crusted with dried blood stains, dripped anew with the fresh kill. The deer seemed to all leave the area once his stench had caught their noses, and he was left with nothing but rabbits to catch and dry. He must become smarter then - hunt from downwind if he hoped to catch any larger prey.

It took him but a day to acquire the new skill, and the buck he chased down was drained dry in a matter of minutes. But his jaw quivered even as he finished, and his thirst went unquenched – the burn of his throat reduced to only a dull throbbing. He wondered vaguely if now this is how he were to feel all of the time, and he recalled the warning of this that he’d been given - the intensity of his regret now manifold.

He recalled how just yesterday as he had first sunken his teeth into a living thing how difficult that choice had been, how hard it had been to choose his life over another’s.

But those thoughts were quickly driven away by instinct, that insatiable hunger that kept him moving through the forest in search of prey.

If he didn’t keep it at bay he could lash out at any moment, he felt. If he were to suddenly meet a traveler in the woods… the encounter would only end with the demise of the other, and he could not under any circumstance let that happen. There could be no more innocent lives taken.

And although he strived and struggled, the days began to take their toll – and what’s more, the nights. It had been but a week since he had been left on his own, a week since the unhappiest of events. And ye