[title: home - seventeen]
[13k]

ONE

This is bad. This is really, really bad.

She stares hard at the man in front of her, her fingers clasped to her neck and her eyes wide. Her thoughts are running at full speed, so fast she can barely keep up. Her heart is thrumming even faster. She thinks she’s going to cry and the dull pain in her neck is the only thing anchoring her to reality, to the fact that this very handsome man in front of her has eyes that glow a faint red in the dark, gaze soul piercing almost, and he has sharp teeth, they’re fangs oh god they’re fangs, and blood, is that blood?

There is warmth in her palm, wet and sticky, and for some reason her brain skips over that detail, over connecting the dots, like a broken record player that would skip along the disc.

“Holy .” She whispers, her back tense, every instinct inside of her telling her to run. She can feel a headache coming on though, her heartbeat too fast, and the fatigue she usually feels in her limbs, especially these days, coming on heavy—probably because of her neck and the red smearing his lips and—“Oh my ing God.”

The man blinks at her, his reddish-brown eyes studying her for a long moment, his gaze intense in a way that makes every hair stand on end.

She’s going to die.

Her thoughts morph into a chant, into I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

What is she going to do? She’s not ready to die. The apartment is leased under her name. And what if Yixing gets kicked out? And Yixing? Holy , she promised him she’d be careful tonight, so he decided he wouldn’t have to come. She promised she’d drink less and instigate less fights and Irene promised she’d keep her in line, but Irene’s somewhere in the club probably looking for her and she hates being an inconvenience, if she dies here Irene’s going to have to call her mom and Yixing and—the people who have to clean her up after she dies? She heard that that’s a thing. Who’s going to let Yixing win in Mario Kart? Everyone she knows has issues with letting people win in things and Yixing’s going to be sad and then get even sadder when he has to identify her dead body and being the cause of Yixing’s sadness is something she really cannot bear and oh, my God. Oh my God.

She’s hyperventilating now, against the brick wall, and the handsome man’s face blurs. Her head spins.

The man just tilts his head, his nose wrinkling, and she watches him his lips of the blood, watches his disgusted face wrinkle up even more. “Oh my ing Jesus ing—” She cuts herself off, too breathless to continue.

His brows furrow together, and his red eyes look appalled. She is momentarily confused by his expression. It’s a bit jarring coupled with the red eyes, blood on his lips, and the fangs.

He says, “Why the does your blood taste like that?”

She blinks, her vision swimming.

He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, nose still wrinkled.

Her knees wobble.

He mutters, eyes widening slightly, “Woah, woah there, don’t—”

She passes out.

~.~.~.~.~

She wakes up with a headache and a new level of exhaustion in her limbs. She wonders if all that had just been a very elaborate, incredibly realistic nightmare. At least as realistic as vampires could be.

“ing finally.” An unfamiliar voice jolts her out of her daze, triggering her fight-or-flight response right off the bat. She shoots up to a sitting position and her vision immediately blurs, black spots forming at the edge of her vision as she tries to get her bearings.

She blinks away the black spots and the lightheaded feeling to find herself face-to-face with—.

“Please, don’t pass out on me again.” The handsome man—the vampire, oh my god—lifts both hands in the air, scooting away to give her space. “I seriously thought you ing died or something and, no offense, but I have a bet going with someone on how low we can keep our body counts and I have been winning these last few decades. I refuse to lose to ty ing Chanyeol and his ty ing—oh, you look like you need to puke.”

“Yeah.” She manages before he disappears with the blink of an eye and then reappears with a plastic bag in hand. He shoves it into her hands and she pukes. Except it’s— “Blood?”

Her voice rises about three octaves at the word as she wipes at the tears in her eyes, trying to calm her dry heaving. Is she dying? She might be dying?

“I gave you some of my blood to help you heal. I guess my blood type doesn’t match yours so your body’s rejecting whatever it hasn’t used yet. It’s kinda like…lactose intolerance?”

She blinks at him, “Except…it isn’t.”

“Huh, I guess.” The man shrugs, though his reddish-brown eyes are still pinned on her, piercing almost. The red in his eyes, she notices, are not as piercing as she remembered them to be, in the dim lighting of an alleyway behind a club. She could play dumb, act like none of it ever happened, and maybe get out of this relatively unscathed.

(Or not. She is currently puking up blood—this vampire’s blood—in an unfamiliar room. She’s going to die, isn’t she?)

Her head spins as she sits up, the plastic bag in her hands crinkling loudly in the silence that falls over them.

She stares at the man before her—he seems so casual as he leans his hip against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, body blocking the bedroom door. He drags a hand through his hair as he appraises her silently, gaze unreadable, and stomach churns at his piercing gaze and the heavy aura that seems to emanate from his every movement.

She can’t help it when she mumbles, “Please don’t kill me.”

That’s when the man blinks, rapidly, straightening up. His fingers find his hair again and his reddish-brown eyes widen exponentially at her words. His black hair is sticking up in all kinds of directions and, for a moment, he just looks tired.

But then, he lifts his hands.

Her body moves on instinct, curling around the plastic bag, and she makes a move to toss the bag at him. “I—I have blood-slash-puke and I’m not afraid to use it.”

His expression twists in disgust and it’s familiar, distinctly familiar. Her heart skitters in her chest. “That’s ing disgusting. Please, don’t.”

She glances around, a little frantic now, even as she scrambles to her feet. Her head spins, though, and she stumbles. Something cold wraps around her elbows. She looks up and the man is looking down at her, slightly concerned, his eyes flickering over her face. Whatever he sees in her expression causes him to soften just a bit, just enough to speak in a low, placating tone, “Calm down before you hurt yourself.”

She yanks her elbow out of his cool grip, opening to say something or yell at him or maybe even plead for her ing life because holy she is alone in a room with a vampire that bit her. She wants to say something.

Instead, she pukes all over him.

He shrieks.

~.~.~.~.~

She is seated smack dab in the center of his couch with a trashcan brushing her bare knees. His living room is huge, she notices, like the-size-of-her-entire-shared-apartment-with-Yixing huge. She’s too busy blinking around at the sight, sipping absentmindedly at the cup of water he shoved into her hand, to really freak out again. Or maybe, she’s so overwhelmed by sheer panic that her brain decided it’s best for her to just shut down. She’s probably going to die, so she might as well be hydrated and maintain some dignity. Besides, she feels bad for puking in the guy’s bedroom and all over his clothes. His jeans looked expensive.

She tries not to meet the man’s—vampire’s, vampire’s, vampire’s, her brain screams—eyes as she glances around his apartment. The ceilings are high, grand almost, and the couches are definitely made of leather. It’s a far cry from the couch she and Yixing hauled in from a secondhand shop in Seoul. She’s certainly not sinking into the very depths of hell on this couch like she would if she sat on the couch in her apartment at least. He sits on the gaming chair across from the couch, right in front of the big screen television, and stares at her. Real hard.

It’s kind of creepy.

“This is kind of creepy.” She mumbles, after a moment. She finds there’s something about his gaze that has her flustered. It’s too sharp, too old. She doesn’t really like it. “If you’re going to kill me, can you just, like, do it already?”

The man huffs then, cheeks puffing out in annoyance as he scowls at her. She can feel his irritated gaze against the side of her face. “For the first and last ing time, I’m not going to kill you.”

She perks up at that, eyes flickering sideways briefly to meet his annoyed scowl, “Really?”

“I just.” The man cuts himself off, his expression twisting. He seems to be fighting with his natural expression and it’s a bit…disconcerting. He looks a little like he’s trying not to implode. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

His tone is serious in a way that sets off every single alarm bell in her head. She has no idea how old this man is, but the look in his eyes coupled with his tone makes her think that he is much, much, much older than he looks. It makes her squirm a bit. His eyes flicker over her face, lingering for a moment, before he suddenly jerks to his feet.

She watches as he disappears into the bedroom only to reappear again.

And then something soft hits her right in the face. Her shrieks are muffled by thick fabric and she scrambles, glaring at him as she shakes the material out in front of her.

It’s a sweatshirt.

Before she can ask, he waves a hand, back already turned to her, already in the kitchen in the blink of an eye. Her head starts to hurt at the mere thought of how fast he seems to be. Then she hears the jingle of keys and something significantly harder than a sweatshirt hits the top of her head. He tosses another object into her lap rather than at her damn head.

“Ow.” She yelps, scrambling for the item he threw at her almost on instinct.

It’s a plastic baggie filled with three little clementine oranges and a plastic water bottle in her lap.

“I’m taking you home.” He states over his shoulder.

She looks up and he is staring at her, watchful almost. She slowly gets to her feet, swaying from the fatigue. He waits for her, fingers tapping away against his keyring. Her vision spots for just a moment until she manages to get a grip. Then she follows after him, thanking every God out there that she wore boots to the club rather than heels. She slips them on quickly and follows after him, wary of him but also confused beyond belief.

“Eat the oranges.” He tells her in the elevator. She listens to him only because it’s the strangest request she’s ever heard in her life, especially when she knows it’s coming from a vampire, and she is too confused to do anything else.

~.~.~.~.~

He didn’t say anything about the sweatshirt, but she had put it on when she realized just how cold it was, the alcohol from her system long gone. The car ride itself was quiet aside from him asking for her address and also informing her that her purse and phone were in the backseat. She had contemplated giving him a fake address, but, well, she’s exhausted, and if he hadn’t killed her yet, she doubted she had much to worry about by that point. If she were him, she would have killed her when she puked all over him anyway.

She’s just…confused.

Even when she awkwardly steps out the car, glancing at her phone and mentally groaning at the sheer amount of texts and missed calls she’s received—she hates worrying her friends and they're probably sick with worry right now. It’s nearly five in the morning and it’ll be sunrise in less than an hour. The man basically escorts her to her front door, his frown growing the closer they get to her apartment.

She fumbles with her keys—her hands are shaking, why are they shaking so hard? Maybe it’s the blood loss.

The man doesn’t move from his spot beside her, hands shoved in his pocket, his eyes fixed on her door. His head is slightly tilted to the side, eyes unfocused, and his frown deepens.

He asks, “Do you live with your brother?”

She’s startled by the question. “No, my boyfriend.”

He nods, the movement slow, stilted.

She barely gets the key in the door when it’s thrown open.

Zhang Yixing stands before her, face flushed, chest heaving, his eyes wide, frantic. He exclaims, “Sunhye, you’re okay!”

Then he surges forward and yanks her up into a tight hug. Honestly, after the confusing and eventful couple hours she’s just had, she finds herself melting into Yixing’s arms, arms snaking around his waist, so she can cling onto him for dear life. She inhales deeply, the comforting scent of Yixing’s shampoo calming her rushing thoughts. Her head still aches, her hands still feel cold, and she’s still inexplicably exhausted, but right here, right now, she feels perfectly safe and content in Yixing’s arms. Her grip around him tightens even as Yixing tries to pull away.

He chuckles, the sound soft, especially when she clings to his chest, fingers curling around the back of his t-shirt. The rumbling sound in his chest is soothing and she can feel the tears stinging her eyes—most likely a leftover reaction from the adrenaline rush of being bitten by a vampire. Yixing is saying something, voice indecipherable, over the top of her head, and then he’s stepping backwards while she hangs off him, stepping forwards with each step he takes back, refusing to detach her head from his chest, at least until her urge to cry subsides. Yixing just her back and accommodates her. God, she loves him so much.

After a long, long minute, she finally pulls away, leaning back to look up at Yixing.

Yixing beams down at her, his dimples on full-blast as he continues to her back. And then his expression morphs into a stern one—at least as stern as Yixing can be in any kind of situation. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to think about it.” She mumbles, resolving to burrow herself back in Yixing’s chest and evade all questions for the rest of the day. It’s past five in the morning and she’s exhausted as hell.

“Was it really that bad? Baekhyun said you passed out.”

Her head snaps up. “Who’s Baekhyun?”

“Me.”

She yelps at the familiar voice.

Yixing says, at the same time, “You don’t know the name of the guy who helped you home?”

Sunhye nearly breaks her neck because of the speed at which she swivels, practically flailing in Yixing’s lap in horror.

The man—the vampire…Baekhyun—grins back at her, all teeth, fingers curled into a half-assed wave.

Yixing frowns, “Hey, you okay?”

“He’s—”

“I bit her.”

Yixing blinks, owlish. Sunhye sort of wants to cup his face and kiss the confusion off his face. She recoils a bit when an inkling of hurt blooms across his features, hidden well, but not well enough for her trained eyes.

She scowls at Baekhyun, “Seriously?”

Yixing tries to remain nonchalant, as he always does, “Oh, uh, that sounds .”

Sunhye reddens, “Yixing, really?”

Meanwhile, Baekhyun laughs, and the sound is loud, all encompassing. It’s sort of beautiful, mesmerizing. Even Yixing takes a moment to revel in it. But then his laughter dies down, almost as quickly as it came, while his expression is just vacant, a little empty, very stony. She stares. So does Yixing, she notices.

“Why,” Yixing takes a deep breath and though she’s now seated next to him on the couch, his arms are still wrapped around her, still holding her so securely. She is still very safe in his arms. She reminds herself of this. Yixing looks so very serious, careful, wary, as he continues, “Why did you bite her? Why would you bite her?”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything. He just stares Yixing down, the way he had with her when she sat on his plush leather couch and avoided his eyes. Baekhyun’s eyes, she notices, are more brown than red now.

No one says anything for a long, long time, until she gets fed up with the silence and the strange little stare-down the two of them are having.

She mutters, “He’s a vampire.”

It’s a bit anticlimactic, coming from her, especially when Yixing doesn’t react much. His eyes just widen the slightest bit before he nods once and shrugs slightly, as if to say, it happens.

Instead, Yixing breaks the silence, his tone concerned, though slightly curious, “So, are you here to kill us?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, finally breaking eye contact, “What the hell? What is up with you ty humans and asking if I’m going to kill you.”

“I mean, you are a vampire.” Yixing responds.

“Do you know how messy murder is?” Baekhyun snaps.

“Is that a real question?” Sunhye can’t help but interrupt, brows raised, expression incredulous.

“It’s messy and gross and boring as . There’s more to a vampire’s life than murder. Don’t stereotype us.”

Yixing is smiling, ever-so-slightly, now. Sunhye doesn’t think this conversation warrants any type of amusement.

Sunhye is the one to mutter, “You hate vampire stereotypes. Noted.”

“I also hate es who don’t take care of their health.” Baekhyun snaps back.

Sunhye opens to retort but then she registers his words. She pauses, stumbling over her response, “I—wait what?”

“When was the last time you went to the doctor’s?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Baekhyun’s eyes flicker to the side, to Yixing. “Yixing?”

She frowns at that because she can damn well answer her health questions on her own, thank you very much.

Yixing glances at Sunhye, before he says, firmly, “She asked why you wanted to know?”

“Because.”

“Why?” Sunhye presses, frowning.

“Because your blood tastes like .”

Sunhye blinks.

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before he says, each word a steady, weighted thing that he seems to release one at a time on them, carefully almost. It’s strange because she can already tell that he’s not necessarily the careful type. He’s brash, too blunt with his words. His tone sounds strange, restrained. “It tastes off and it can mean one of two things.” He lifts his pointer finger, listing off, gaze steady, “Either you’re pregnant—”

“.” Yixing mumbles, eyes widening as he turns to her.

“No, nope, no way, that’s not it.” Sunhye cuts off whatever Yixing’s about to spout out, nips it right in the bud before it blooms into something she really does not have the mental capacity to deal with at the moment. She knows she’s not pregnant. She knows Yixing’s the type to get down on his knees and marry her on the spot if she were. She’s not mentally ready for that kind of commitment; she loves Yixing, but a baby is terrifying. She is not pregnant and if she was, it’d be weird as hell if a vampire were the one to break the news to her just because he bit her and could somehow sense it in her blood like a sentient blood test.

Baekhyun snorts as Yixing blinks owlishly at her and she waves her arms franticly, his gaze flickering back and forth between them, before his expression mellows out. He sobers up immediately, sighing as he continues, “Or you have iron deficient anemia.”

Sunhye blinks, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Baekhyun repeats blinking at her.

“I mean, like…so what?”

“It could kill you, .”

“Plenty of things can kill me.”

“Are you serious?” Baekhyun scowls this time, at both Sunhye and Yixing and Sunhye sort of feels like she’s being scolded by an old man. It’s a peculiar feeling, to be scowled at by a man who looks her age with eyes centuries older than her grandparents’. “Go to the ing doctors.”

Yixing interrupts this time, tone hesitant as he plays with a loose thread at the hem of Sunhye’s skirt, “We can’t exactly afford that.”

Baekhyun blinks, glancing around them, seemingly taking in their tiny, shabby apartment for the first time that night. She remembers his apartment, how spacious and expensive it seemed, and she hates the embarrassment that creeps up her spine as she watches Baekhyun slowly assess their apartment with unreadable eyes and that perpetual scowl. She shouldn’t feel embarrassed. After all, she isn’t some old vampire who managed to acquire all the wealth over multiple lifetimes. She’s a broke college student trying to make ends meet with her equally broke college student boyfriend.

(She bristles a bit, expecting Baekhyun to say something disparaging about their living conditions. Only they’re allowed to say something about it. But, then Baekhyun just nods to himself.)

“Fine.” Baekhyun mumbles after he tears his eyes off the hole in the wall that’s been there since they moved in—Sunhye was afraid to ask the landlord exactly how it got there since Yixing was already convinced the other apartment two floors above them was haunted and this was the only place they could afford with their budget. Baekhyun doesn’t necessarily seem surprised, disgusted, nor horrified with their living conditions. He just eyes them the same as he had since he walked into their apartment, with bland disinterest and slight annoyance. “I’ll schedule it for you then.”

“What? Why?” Sunhye immediately sits up, blinking at him.

“I’m the one who bit you. I feel responsible.”

“Ah. Chivalrous.” She can’t help but remark.

Baekhyun throws her a withering, long-suffering sort of look, ignoring her comment as he says, “I’m not going to let someone walk around with such blood. It’s a disservice to my nose.”

Sunhye wonders if she should be offended. She kind of wants to be.

But then Baekhyun says, “You got Mario Kart on that?”

He’s pointing at the old Game Cube Yixing bought from the depths of the deepest, darkest parts of the internet.

Yixing, who had been glancing between Baekhyun and Sunhye with slight concern earlier, now grins like she’s just told him she ordered his favorite dish for dinner. Sunhye can’t help but smile at Yixing’s fondness of Mario Kart. He nods, the movement vigorous. Baekhyun grins with all his teeth.

(That’s how she ends up watching her boyfriend and the vampire that bit her play Mario Kart at six in the morning until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer, pressed up against Yixing’s side all the while because, admittedly, she feels safest at his side, especially after such a night.

She wakes up to a post-it note stuck to her forehead. Yixing blinks away the last bits of sleep and she can’t help but stare, a bit mesmerized by how adorable he looks with a bedhead and droopy eyes, even if he has little eye boogers stuck to the corner of his eyes and a little bit of drool at the corners of his mouth. She yawns as Yixing reaches up and plucks the sticky-note off her forehead, flipping it around for the them to squint at. There’s a number there. No name, just a number written in boxy handwriting in purple ink.

For a moment, she wonders if last night had been some elaborate fever dream. At least until Yixing rolls over on top of her to grab his phone off the table beside the couch and texts him immediately. She can feel the beginnings of a headache, wonders if maybe this…this anemia thing has something to do with all those headaches and chest pains, when Yixing’s phone vibrates, almost immediately.

He replies, Thursday 12pm, here’s the address. Don’t be late.

She is hit with the acute realization that last night was not a fever dream. Everything was entirely too real. Her stomach flips at the thought.)

~.~.~.~.~

“Why didn’t you call me?” Irene crosses her arms over her chest, mom mode fully activated. Sunhye has the ridiculous urge to cower at the intensity of her scowl.

“Sorry, I was just so wrapped up in making sure Yixing wasn’t too freaked out—which, yes, bad excuse—and then I was so tired and forgot to check my phone and—I feel so bad for worrying you, I’m so sorry.”

The intensity in Irene’s eyes are enough to make Sunhye recoil a bit. She hates worrying people, more than anything, and she feels bad. Irene looks like she hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and Sunhye feels absolutely awful for leaving Irene wondering after her the entire night.

Irene sighs, her arms falling from her chest. “The only reason why I didn’t call the police was because Yixing texted me that you were back.” Irene slumps back against the wall. “I’ve never been that terrified in my life.”

Sunhye blinks, repeats, “Sorry. Seriously.”

“I know. It’s just—you owe me for the emotional distress.” Irene half laughs, though Sunhye knows she’s not joking at all.

A comfortable silence stretches on between them, at least until Irene says, so very casually, too casually, “So, did you tell Yixing about that guy?”

“Guy?” Sunhye frowns.

“The one you disappeared with. The one I thought had killed you in the back alley or something.”

“Oh.” Sunhye tries to keep her expression as normal as possible, but she can hear the way her tone drops at his mention, “Him.”

“Him.” Irene repeats, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Nothing! No reason!”

Irene examines her, speaking slowly, “You didn’t tell Yixing, did you? What happened with him? Please don’t tell me you slept with him and that’s why—”

“No.” Sunhye shrieks, so loudly, half the students in the hall glances at her. She flushes, lowering her voice, “No, I didn’t sleep with him. And Yixing—well, uh, I was really drunk, we kissed, and the guy offered to drive me home. Yixing met him. They played Mario Kart until like six in the morning.”

Irene blinks, “What the .”

“Right?” Sunhye laments.

“Yixing is…a lot.” Irene says, eventually. She doesn’t let it go, though, her gaze soul-searching as she adds, “You still didn’t tell him, though, did you?”

“I mean it was implied why I was with him. Yixing just…he didn’t seem to mind.”

(Both she and Irene know that’s a lie. She remembers, quite vividly, the hurt passing through Yixing’s eyes.)

“You should still tell him.”

“Why?” Sunhye whines a little, though she knows Irene is right. It’s only right for her to discuss this with Yixing even if it’s terrifying, even if she’s afraid of the possible confrontation, afraid of what kind of consequences that could cause. Yixing was too distracted with the vampire thing to fully comprehend exactly why she was alone with a vampire in the first place. But, still—

“Yixing’s a good guy and he actually respects you.” Irene shrugs. “He deserves the choice of talking it over, even if all you did was kiss the other guy.”

Sunhye nods, slowly, while they take a seat. After a moment, she says, “You know, it’s nice to hear you actually complimenting one of my boyfriends. You usually hate them all.”

“That’s because I hate men.” Irene mutters. “I mean, Yixing’s a man so he’s already on thin ice. He’s one -up away from getting on my hit-list.”

Sunhye snorts, “Fair enough.”

~.~.~.~.~

Baekhyun’s there, at the doctor’s office, when she arrives with Yixing in tow. It’s odd, sitting in a quiet waiting room between her boyfriend and a dude she might have attempted to drunkenly hook up with who also happens to be a vampire. Baekhyun sits silently, a random fashion magazine balanced on his knee as he flips through it, expression filled with disinterest. He looks very much like he’s been pulled out the pages of the very magazine he’s reading. She blinks at him. Yixing, on the other hand, is half-snoring, head lolling onto her shoulder.

After a moment, Baekhyun looks up, meeting her gaze. His eyes flicker to Yixing and there’s a hint of a smile gracing his pretty pink lips.

When her name is called, both Yixing and Baekhyun wait for her in the waiting room and the doctor takes blood tests, asks of her symptoms, and then tells her he will have the office call her with results soon. It happens so fast; she feels as if it was over within the blink of an eye. It’s one thing she’s always hated about the doctors. They see you for five minutes and then charge a co-payment that she can barely afford, on top of other living expenses. She knows she’s lucky—the government’s NHI technically does provide universal healthcare to everyone and she knows not many countries have something like that—but there are still co-payments.

The front desk receptionist asks her to swipe her card and she frowns at the total before she reaches for her bag. Until someone presses a hand to her shoulder—a brief touch that makes her pause, looking up—and Baekhyun is handing over his credit card with a nonchalant expression. Even the receptionist appears stricken by his action, glancing quickly between Baekhyun and Sunhye before she quickly prints out a receipt and hands it to Baekhyun, bowing quickly.

Baekhyun swivels on his heels, striding out the room, commanding all the attention in the room. Sunhye hurries after him, a moment later, Yixing on her heels.

She grabs Baekhyun’s arm just as he steps onto the sidewalk, tugging. He turns to eye her hand with slight interest before his eyes—they’re a pretty, soft brown this time, not red like before—flicker up to her face.

“What the hell.” She blurts out.

“I scheduled the appointment, so it makes sense that I pay for it, right?” Baekhyun tells her, without skipping a beat, not even phased by her grimacing at him. “I want to hear your results, too, so—” Baekhyun pulls out his phone and hands it to her, wordlessly.

She blinks at his phone. “Why?”

Judging from the look passing through Baekhyun’s eyes, he understands that she wants to know why in general, for everything he’s doing, but he doesn’t acknowledge that. “I want to know if I was right.” He says, taking her question at face value. She doesn’t push it, despite the word sprinting through her thoughts.

“You already know you are.”

“Let me enjoy some ing validation, then.” Baekhyun shrugs.

Sunhye peers at Baekhyun for a long moment, trying to gauge his emotions, something. He just seems so—stoic. Yet…why is he doing all this, then? Still, should she look a gift horse (gift vampire?) in the mouth like this?

“Fine.” She mumbles, after a long moment, plucking his phone out of his hands and quickly shooting herself a text. She isn’t sure what compels her to agree, but her hands are moving on their own accord anyway.

Baekhyun smiles and it transforms his face. He looks less stony and more soft, angelic even. She blinks after him, watching him leave. Yixing lets out a low whistle under his breath.

“I don’t know how I feel about this.” Sunhye mumbles to him, watching Baekhyun slide into his expensive sports car, smoothly pulling out before he drives away.

“I think he just feels guilty.” Yixing says, slowly, still staring after Baekhyun’s car long after he’s gone.

She turns to Yixing. “Guilty?”

“He felt bad for biting you. Apologized a lot after you fell asleep.” Yixing explains, quietly.

“Oh.”

~.~.~.~.~

The results come back the next day—Baekhyun was right, which wasn’t a surprise—while she’s headed home on the bus. She starts to text Yixing first, fingers hovering over her phone’s keyboard before she takes a deep, deep breath and adds Baekhyun to the message, creating a group chat. She types out a quick message, shoves her phone in her jacket pocket, and finally lets out that deep breath, her phone vibrating against her side.

It’s a conscious decision, she knows, to include him. She didn’t have to. But, she remembers how Yixing mentioned that Baekhyun felt guilty. Sunhye understands that guilt—she feels guilty about kissing Baekhyun and not telling Yixing, even though Yixing probably knows. She feels guilty about making Baekhyun feel guilty, which she knows is unhealthy because it’s not her fault. There is no need for her to feel guilty or sorry when she never asked to get bit and Baekhyun is the one who hurt her, but she can’t stop those socialized feelings from creeping into her thoughts. She can’t ever stop overthinking. She knows it’s bad, she knows her problem, yet she keeps doing it.

She knows a thing or two about guilt, about worrying, and she figures, hey, Baekhyun hasn’t asked them for anything in return, yet, and what’s wrong with him paying for a couple blood tests? It’s the least he could do for biting her. She will always have two faint bite-like scars on her neck because of Baekhyun. It’s the least he can do, right?

All these thoughts swim through her head, faster and faster, until she’s jolted out of them by the bus suddenly braking, the bus driver shouting at someone who supposedly ran out into the middle of the street without looking both ways. She glances out the window and there’s a hooded man, short in stature but wide, shoulders broad, dressed in all black, running across the street, ignoring the bus driver shouting at him and the cars in the street honking at him as he easily dodges. She frowns, just as the man glances over his shoulders. She can’t make out his face, but she swears he locks eyes with her. A chill runs down her spine, just as he turns away and disappears around the corner.

Any thought of the man leaves her mind when she realizes it’s her stop and gathers her things, hurrying off. Her thoughts drift back to Baekhyun, to the whys, and she tries and tries to figure it out, figure him out.

She barely notices the world passing her by since she’s so absorbed in her own thoughts, until she’s throwing her front door open and Baekhyun is sitting there, on her ratty old couch. He’s turned away, watching Yixing practice dance choreography in fascination, a small smile on his face.

Yixing visibly perks up at her entrance, noticing her first, though she knows that Baekhyun probably noticed her way before she ever even opened the door. She’s read a lot of vampire books. She knows they have super senses. Plus, Baekhyun doesn’t even look startled by her presence, unlike Yixing.

“Baby, you’re home!” Yixing grins and Sunhye melts a bit at the love and adoration coloring his face. She’s never going to get used to it.

Sunhye slowly makes her way to Yixing, unable to hide her smile when he pulls her into a hug. “Ew, you’re sweaty.” She mumbles, though she doesn’t resist his hug at all. She eyes Baekhyun, “What’s he doing here?”

“I brought some iron vitamins.” He gestures to the plastic bag on their kitchen counter. Then he scowls as if she’s an idiot, “And then I checked your fridge. Tell me, how many goddamn frozen dinners do you have in there?”

Sunhye can’t help but get a little defensive around Baekhyun. She isn’t sure why, but he’s been bringing out a more confrontational side to her, despite her knowing him for barely a day. She ​​​​could just explain the amount of shifts she and Yixing work weekly. Instead, she stiffens in Yixing’s arms, glaring, “What’s it to you?”

“They’re unhealthy. No wonder your blood tasted like that.”

Yixing taps his chin, “What did it taste like?”

“Like .” Baekhyun responds.

“Oof.” Yixing mumbles. “Sick burn.”

Sunhye lightly smacks Yixing’s stomach, though it hurts her hand more than it bothers him. “Stop encouraging him.”

“We became friends after Mario Kart. Sorry, babe.” Yixing says, patting her back soothingly.

Baekhyun grins then, nodding, before he directs all his attention on Sunhye. It’s a little overwhelming; there’s something about Baekhyun’s gaze that is heavy, burdening, and she feels like he’s dropping a weight on her shoulders. “Besides, I can’t allow someone with blood that nasty to walk the streets. It’s a disservice to humanity.”

“I’m like this close to throwing something at you. No one asked you to bite me, .”

Baekhyun raises a brow with so much contempt that Sunhye wonders, for a moment, if maybe she did ask him to bite her. He makes her second-guess herself immediately. She blinks, shocked at that thought.

Baekhyun decides to change the subject, luckily, “Anyways, I’m here to take you to the grocery store.”

“What?”

“I’m going to buy your groceries.”

“Why?”

“Do we really need to go through that whole ing conversation again?”

“No, I mean…” Sunhye pauses, frowning, before she takes a deep breath and says, “Do we look like charity cases to you?”

Baekhyun’s lips turn down into a deep frown, “No.” He says immediately, shaking his head, “Like I said before, I feel responsible. If you don’t feel comfortable, then I can—”

“Team meeting.” Yixing exclaims, cutting Baekhyun off.

Sunhye swivels on her heels just as Yixing wraps his fingers around her elbow and drags her away from the couch, moving in close so he can whisper to her.

“You do realize he can hear everything we’re going to say, right?” Sunhye whispers, just to humor Yixing.

“No, he can’t.” Yixing murmurs back.

“Yes, I can.” Baekhyun calls out.

“.” Yixing blinks. But then, he leans in, gaze searching, and whispers, “Are you okay with this?”

Sunhye sighs, “I don’t know. Are you?”

“Honestly,” Yixing’s brows furrow together as he thinks. “I don’t have a problem with it. He’s willing to pay for groceries and doesn’t want anything in return. Frankly, I wish the rest of the One Percent acted like him.”

“You just like it because you feel like you’re exploiting the rich.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“I can ing hear you guys.” Baekhyun interrupts, tone sharp.

Sunhye can’t help but burst into giggles along with Yixing, his forehead knocking against hers.

“Okay, okay.” Yixing mumbles, biting down on his bottom lip so he can be serious for a moment, “Seriously, even though I’m okay with it, it’s all up to you. Your blood is the one he plans on spicing up.”

Sunhye grimaces at the way Yixing puts it. Baekhyun groans as well, mumbling something under his breath about stupid humans.

“As long as he doesn’t want anything…weird in return, then I’ll do it.”

Yixing nods, his eyes firm, and despite the strange situation, she’s okay with this and she’s glad Yixing is here to back her up. Besides, she doesn’t think Baekhyun’s going to make her do anything weird anyway.

Baekhyun looks exasperated when they both straighten up. Yixing opens his mouth to repeat what Sunhye said, but Baekhyun interrupts him, “Obviously, this is no strings attached. Neither of you owe me anything for this.”

“Really?” Sunhye hates how small she sounds to even her own ears, how hesitant.

Baekhyun blinks at her, once, twice, before he nods and says, in a tone that is significantly less stony, less harsh, almost calming, as if he wishes to talk the tension in her shoulders away. It’s sort of…nice. “Yes, really. You do not owe me anything for this, Sunhye. I swear it.”

Slowly, she nods, a little mesmerized by the firm look in his eyes. She manages a small, “Oh, okay.”

~.~.~.~.~

“I mean—is that oka—oh—are we——taking advantage of——him?”

Yixing pulls back, right then, bare chest heaving, up and down, his dark gaze heavy with want and need and amusement. It takes her a long moment to realize that he is laughing at her, the sound a little breathless, airy, her fingers curling in his dark hair. He sighs, despite the dimpled smile overtaking his features. “Baby, I love you, but can this conversation wait? I’m trying to go down on you.”

“I’m just worried! I feel bad about all the money he’s spending and—” She cuts herself off, for both his sake and hers, especially when Yixing’s eyes crinkle up into a smile.

Yixing leans down and presses a gentle, chaste kiss right above her heart and reminds her, “You’re not inconveniencing him if he’s the one that offered.”

His voice is firm, despite the gravely undertone. Her heart rate speeds up, but her brain latches onto his words—they’re words he repeats to her often because, well, she tends to overthink things, to the point where her thoughts won’t stop racing and it will be death of her. Yixing knows that as well as she does and sometimes, he helps her stay grounded. He traces tiny circles against the bare skin of her hips and she manages to relax under his touch, just a little bit.

“I still feel bad.” She mumbles in a quiet, tiny voice.

“Think of it as redistributing the wealth.” Yixing mumbles, tone matching hers.

She rolls her eyes, but plays along, adding, “Eat the rich, right? Down with the one percent.”

“God, I love it when you to me.” Yixing leans in to press a kiss to her jaw.

She can’t help but laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

Afterwards, she’s tucked securely under Yixing’s arm, cheek pressed up against his chest, and he tells her, “If you feel bad about it, you should tell him. Baekhyun seems like he’d understand.”

His fingers tangle in her hair.

She nods, “I just feel like I should give him something in return, even though he said he didn’t want anything. I just don’t know what to give.”

“Talk to him about it. He could use the social interaction.”

She snorts, nodding, “Maybe I will.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

She nods, smiling, and Yixing grins, eyes twinkling with mischief.

~.~.~.~.~

“I’ve always wondered why you don’t sleep in a coffin.”

“Don’t ing make me kick you out.” Baekhyun eyes her up and down, gaze scrutinizing and judgmental. She snorts at his expression.

She hovers in the kitchen, watching him cook up her lunch. It’s a healthy meal of spinach and other leafy greens and salmon. It smells delicious and she’s always wanted to ask him where he learned his cooking skills from. Yixing, on the other hand, can barely cook an egg. She watches him add spices to the vegetables, stirring as he hums, the sound low, harmonious enough to make the tension in her shoulders subside just a bit. She has no idea how she’s supposed to bring this up with him, especially when he was adamant earlier about not wanting anything in return.

“Just spit it out.” Baekhyun’s voice cuts through the silence, the sound of oil sizzling on the pan, and her loud thoughts.

She jolts at his tone, startled out of her head. She looks up and he’s facing her, arms crossed over his chest, broadening his stature. She blinks, flushes red because how is she supposed to say this? As a kid, she was always taught to thank people for their gifts. She was never even allowed to return things, forced to wear the ugly sweaters from her aunts at least once in order to show how grateful she was for the gift. Also, she wants to give him something in return, and she has no idea what. He’s a rich vampire, he could have anything. The only thing she can think of is blood and she’s not about to go down that road. Is she?

(No, nope, no way, no ing way. She is absolutely ing not.)

He takes a step towards her, a slow thing that reminds her, awfully enough, of that night when she was much too drunk, and she vaguely remembers how the two of them ended up in the back alley of some club. It reminds her of the lead-up to the vampire biting her neck. Reminds her that she pretty much cheated on her boyfriend, whom she loves so ing much, and she feels bad about it and, god, god, god, why is he taking another step towards her?

She steps back, one step, two steps, until her lower back hits the kitchen island counter. She squeaks at the impact.

Baekhyun snorts at her reaction, his expression settling into one of amusement more than anything, though his eyes—why is he looking at her like that? “You gonna ing tell me or do I need to pry it out of you?” Baekhyun raises an impudent brow.

She blinks, remembers all those stupid vampire shows she used to watch as a kid, as if her brain is forming some kind of defense mechanism so she doesn’t have to notice the similarities between this moment and the moment of haziness behind that club. “Is that real, then? The weird mind control thing?”

Baekhyun blinks, startled by her question enough to drop his impudence and look genuinely confused. She likes these types of expressions on him. It looks realer, easier to grasp, more human and less like he is some kind of otherworldly being. “Mind control? What is that from?”

She opens to respond and Baekhyun’s eyes widen.

He cuts off her response, tone filled with disappoint, “Please don’t tell me you watch those ty vampire sho—”

“You bet your I do. They’re good!” She grins, beams really.

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at her response, silently judging her.

“So, I’m guessing mind control isn’t real, huh.” She states rather than questions.

“I wish it was.” Baekhyun mumbles.

There’s a pause as he turns back to the stove, stepping away from her. She relaxes against the kitchen counter. Then she manages to say, as normally as ever, though there’s a slight lump in from his proximity and the situation she just managed to swerve, “What about sparkling in the sun?”

There’s another pause before Baekhyun speaks slowly, tone menacing, “Did you just make a Twilight reference? In this house?”

“Yes.” She shrugs, the unspoken and what about it clear in her tone.

“I ing hate you. Why couldn’t Yixing be the one with anemia?”

She blinks, “Hey, that’s mean.”

“Huh. Was it?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I knew there was a reason why I was always Team Jacob.”

“Oh my ing—” Baekhyun spins. “You did not just—”

She gestures at the vegetables he’s cooked up for her, “You’re even vegetarian.”

He turns off the stove, sort of aggressively.

She cackles as she practically sprints out the kitchen.

He comes after her, grabbing her around the middle and gently tossing her on the plush leather couch. She’s laughing, she can’t help it, because his scowl is all soft edges and he looks more pouty than angry. It’s almost cute. She sits up, tossing a couch pillow at him as he stomps towards her, muttering things along the lines of stupid humans and their stupid ing Twilight when her head suddenly feels light and she blinks rapidly, pausing, her laughter dying down immensely.

Baekhyun freezes. Her heart is racing a little too fast for such a short run. She frowns because this isn’t the first time her body interfered in a good time and she’s come to appreciate Baekhyun’s attempts to keep her healthy, but sometimes, his reactions make her feel as if she’s dying and she doesn’t like that. She doesn’t want to feel like a burden or sick or something different. It’s exhausting to feel that way.

She takes a deep breath, leans over to grab the couch pillow under her feet, and tosses it right at Baekhyun’s face. The only reason why she doesn’t miss is because Baekhyun is too busy peering at her in concern. He lets out a little grunt at the impact.

She says, “Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”

Baekhyun’s hair is a little messy, tousled as if he’s just woken up, but his expression is very serious. It makes her insides churn. After a moment, he says, “Technically, all humans feel like they’re made of glass to me.”

She rolls her eyes, wonders where the courage comes for her to act so argumentative, so snarky, with Baekhyun. Usually, she avoids confrontation, even with her own friends. But somehow, Baekhyun is so unapologetically confrontational and straightforward that it brings out that side of her. It’s a nice change of pace. “Okay, smartass. You know what I meant.”

Slowly, Baekhyun nods. Eventually, he rolls his eyes as well. He waves his hand at her, gesturing for her to follow her into the kitchen. She gets up slowly, ignores the way he hovers for a moment, watching her get up, only walking away when he deems her able to do it herself.

He sits across from her and watches her eat. She pauses, fork filled with leafy greens halfway to . She gestures to the fridge. “Do you keep blood bags in there?”

Baekhyun outright groans, throwing his head back. “Please just eat and go home already.”

She cackles with a mouthful of spinach. Baekhyun wrinkles his nose at her. She eats more obnoxiously on purpose, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. Because Baekhyun is never one to back out of a challenge, he doesn’t break eye contact. It’s amusing, in the most ridiculous of ways, even as she stuffs more food in in a much more obnoxious way.

“God, I wish you were Yixing.” He mumbles, staring at her in mock disgust.

She opens to retort before she shuts , blinking. “I want to say something snappy back, but I mean…I wish I was Yixing, too. He’s amazing.”

Baekhyun laughs, then. She ends up joining him, only because his laughter is contagious, loud and unhindered, echoing all around them. It’s warm and so different from his scowls and cuss words. It captures not only his face but his body, his mouth falling open, his expression contorting. It is really really lovely. She decides she wants to see him laugh like this more often.

~.~.~.~.~

She’s sitting in his expensive sports car, the one that looks incredibly out of place parked in her neighborhood, in front of her apartment building. Her neighbors gave her weird looks when he first dragged groceries out his car and up to her apartment, the older ladies frowning at her, sizing up the man trailing behind her while carrying up all these groceries. She had felt bad, because they all know she lives with Yixing and they all adore him—everyone does—and they must be thinking awful things about her.

The next time Baekhyun bought groceries, he took Yixing with him. And then, after, Baekhyun mentioned that he’d take some to his place because he’d rather cook in his kitchen then their poorly equipped one. It was strange because Baekhyun had said that while glancing at Yixing and Yixing had smiled, nodded at him. She had wondered if they talked at the grocery store, if Yixing noticed her discomfort with what her neighbors thought of her bringing Baekhyun up too often, so he mentioned it to Baekhyun. She wouldn’t put it past Yixing; he can read her like a book. It feels strange, though, because if Yixing did do that, that means Baekhyun was kind enough to consider what he said and change his actions. Why, she wonders, does that thought make her stomach flip?

Baekhyun takes a smooth right turn, the radio humming softly, filling the silence. She watches him drive; his fingers, she notices, are long, pretty almost. They dance along the steering wheel.

Finally, she speaks, manages a, “Is there something you want?”

Baekhyun turns to look at her. His dark hair looks fluffy, parted slightly, and his eyes are a little reddish. He drives without really looking at the road and it makes her uncomfortable, her gaze skittering off his face, focused on the tiny road he’s supposed to be navigating. He eyes her for a moment, before turning back to the road, most likely noticing her distracted gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I just—you’re spending so much money and time on me and—I feel—I feel bad. I want to repay you somehow. I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I want to give you something in return.” She tells him.

Baekhyun snorts a little, his hand going under the wheel as he makes another turn. His voice is low, musical, “When you live for ing ever, time and money end up becoming pretty damn worthless, Sunhye.”

“Maybe to you, but to me, it’s a lot. I can’t just take it.”

“Then, how about you stop making Twilight references?”

“No, that’s not enough.” She replies, seriously. “Besides, you can’t take Twilight references away from me. Not when you turn red like that whenever I say them.”

Baekhyun reddens, ever so slightly, just the way he did when she asked if he can play Claire De Lune on the piano and if werewolves were real. She wonders of the biological possibilities of how the red ears are possible for just a moment before she gives up because that’s a headache waiting to happen.

Baekhyun purses his lips, glancing sideways at her. He parks the car, then, before he unlatches his seatbelt—he’s a vampire, why the hell does he wear a seatbelt? —and turns to fully face her. He says, after a long minute of contemplation, “I’m not really sure of what I want from you.”

There’s something cryptic about the way he says it, something that seems to answer both her current question and perhaps her past questions, perhaps her future questions as well.

“Is it…” She bites her lip. His eyes flicker over her face. She is very quiet, a little bit scared, even, the atmosphere between them settling into a thick tension that is hard to wade through. “Is it, maybe…my blood? Would you want that?”

He shakes his head, a quick movement that shatters the stiffness encasing her for a moment, the uncertainty.

His face softens, the same way it does when he laughs, the sharp edges blurring. He lowers his voice and the annoyance and hardness that always lives on there disappears, for just a moment. He looks almost boyish, right then, like he is not an eccentric, rich, jaded, centuries-old vampire with a million secrets. “No, I don’t.” He says, firmly, “That first time my…control just slipped. I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

“Did you just apologize?”

“No.”

“You did!”

He glares at her, but his tone is very serious, very controlled, when he says, “I will not drink your blood or touch you without your permission. Okay? I thought you were joking. I didn’t know you were…serious.”

He looks mildly concerned.

She relaxes back against the car seat. He watches this. She mumbles, “It was a joke, but then…then I kind of over thought it and, well, yeah. Overthinking is my thing.”

Baekhyun nods, mutters, “I get it. It’s okay.”

There is another silence that draws on and on, until she finally reaches for the door. She steps out of the car, bending over to peer at him through the open door. He has one hand on the steering wheel as he tilts his head, brow raising as he waits for her to close the door.

“Thanks for the ride.” She says, with a small smile.

“Don’t ing mention it.” He scoffs.

She snorts because he’s back to that hardness, like a switch has been flipped, and she knows how to deal with this Baekhyun, rather than the soft, understanding, cautious one she sometimes encounters. This one is easy, predictable. She may like a softer, more genuine Baekhyun, but she has no idea what to do with an attentive one. She has no idea what to do with the stomach flipping his attentiveness causes.

She waves to him before she bounces up to her apartment, glancing back at his stalled car periodically. He does not wave back, though he does wait until she steps into her apartment building before speeding away. She finds she is smiling way too much, especially when one of the elderly women living on the first-floor eyes her strangely, glancing over her shoulder, to where she no doubt saw Baekhyun’s sports car and Sunhye stepping out of it. The elderly woman stares at her with wide eyes, more shocked than anything. Sunhye bows before hurrying up the stairs, nearly knocking into a man coming down the opposite way. He steadies her before she tips back and falls. She bows, apologizing profusely. He just sidesteps her and hurries away, black cap pulled over his eyes.

~.~.~.~.~

A few days later, she’s shouldering her backpack, heaving a pile of textbooks that didn’t fit in her backpack up five flights of stairs since the elevator in her apartment building is broken. She’s sweating bullets by the time she’s throwing her front door open, clambering in.

She tosses her textbooks on the kitchen counter, freezing at the sight of Baekhyun and Yixing sitting side-by-side on the couch, shouting at each other as they play a very heated round of Mario Kart. It’s Rainbow Road.

They’re shouting at each other, expletives and all. She’s never heard Yixing shout like that. It’s almost funny. She stumbles over to the couch and presses a kiss to Yixing’s cheek, murmuring, hey.

Yixing pouts, “Hi, love. Hold on, I’m one lap away from beating Baek’s sorry capitalist .”

Sunhye snorts at the cuss word, “You have been hanging around him way too much.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, “ that. You’re dead, Zhang.”

Sunhye decides to leave them to it, patting Yixing’s cheek gently before she inches away from the growing competitive bubble growing between them. Baekhyun glances at over, just as she spins on her heels. He gives her a small smile before his eyes drift back to the television, though his voice is loud, “Won’t you stay and watch me beat your man’s Yoshi to a pulp?”

She snorts, “No.”

Baekhyun shrugs.

Yixing mutters, “Not if I beat your toad looking first.”

“Hey! I was talking about Yoshi not how you look. That’s not ing cool.” Baekhyun screeches, voice booming. Yixing just cackles in response and it sounds vaguely evil.

Sunhye can’t help the grin as she sidles into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her so she can tumble face first into her bed and finally relax, despite the muffled sounds of Yixing and Baekhyun arguing drifting in through her door. Strangely enough, the chaotic yelling, the noise, feels nice. She feels at home.

~.~.~.~.~

Sunhye frowns at the jar in her hands. She wraps her fingers around the lid and braces herself against the kitchen counter before she tries again. It does not work. Her hand slips. She groans.

Baekhyun looks up from the cutting board, catching her eye, and she blinks at him, a moment too long because he truly looks so mesmerizing, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, a little bit wet from wherever he came from earlier. His brown eyes land on her and, yes, she’s a strong girl, but also jars are hard to open and what’s the use of her having a vampire with super strength around if he doesn’t open a few jars for her.

(Next, she’ll get him to get rid of any big bugs.)

Baekhyun scoffs, rolling his eyes, before he looks down at the vegetables again. She lets out another groan, more insistent this time. Baekhyun’s voice is soft, sweet as honey, as he meticulously chops up onions, the sound of his knife hitting the cutting board in rapid succession echoing all throughout the room. “Figure it out.”

She grumbles under her breath. Baekhyun lets out a soft, barely audible snort of amusement. She glares at him over her shoulder, wondering if maybe it was a figment of her imagination. Then, Yixing saunters into the kitchen.

She blinks at the way he does it, just striding in, head held high, casually bumping his shoulder against Baekhyun’s back, hard enough for Baekhyun’s methodical chopping to stutter, disappearing for a brief second before it starts back up. Yixing casually plucks a chopped bell pepper and pops it in his mouth, chest brushing Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun’s chopping freezes again. Yixing turns to look at her. She pouts, holding out the jar.

Baekhyun frowns over her shoulder. “Don’t do it.”

Yixing plucks the jar out of her hands and easily pops it open. “I couldn’t resist her pout.” He shrugs, nonchalant, as he reaches over to pluck another bell pepper piece out of the pile.

There’s something so very…pointed about the way he says it, about the way a little dimple appears as he tilts his head and gives Baekhyun a much too polite smile, brows raised. It’s almost aggressive, but in a passive, polite way. Yixing then turns, leans in, and pecks Sunhye’s lips for good measure. Sunhye has to hide a smile, because maybe passive aggressive Yixing is adorable. Maybe.

Baekhyun’s frown deepens before he scoffs at the two of them, “Is that what the kid these days call ‘whipped culture’?”

Sunhye blinks a million times, trying and failing to suppress her amusement at his words, “What kids have you been talking to?”

“Not kids.” Yixing hums, “I saw him on Urban Dictionary last night.”

“No, I sure as hell was not.” Baekhyun whips around, waving the knife in his hands at them.

“Yes, you were.” Yixing hums, matter-of-factly as he eyes the knife as if it’s a feather and not a sharp object that is dangerously close to poking both their eyes out, and Baekhyun glares at him. Sunhye thinks it’s strange because Baekhyun looks genuinely annoyed with Yixing. Usually, she’s the one he’d direct all his annoyance to because even foul-mouthed Baekhyun can direct so many cuss words at Yixing before he feels bad.

Yixing hums and saunters out the kitchen the same way he came, grinning to himself.

Sunhye blinks after him. She glances at Baekhyun and notices he is blinking after Yixing as well, eyes widening slightly.

Slowly, Sunhye sidles up to Baekhyun, grabbing a spoon so she can scoop some peanut butter out. Baekhyun wrinkles his nose at her. “That’s not healthy.” He says, pointedly, scowling at the peanut butter jar as if it had personally offended him.

(Well, he is her nutritionist. She’s probably giving him a heart attack right now. It’s not her fault she craves sweets all the time these days. Baekhyun had mentioned once that it’s a symptom of iron-deficient anemia, so now she uses it as an excuse.)

She the spoon in spite. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, returning to his cooking, ignoring her hovering right by his elbow.

A couple minutes pass by in blissful silence, Baekhyun humming softly under his breath while he works and Sunhye absentmindedly observing him while she eats peanut butter off her spoon. She gets a bit distracted by Baekhyun’s broad shoulders, how his shirt pulls taut whenever he moves. She zones out—at least until she feels warmth against her waist. She yelps, snapping herself out of her admiration of Baekhyun, blinking rapidly because Baekhyun is behind her, hand briefly landing on her waist so he can maneuver past her to open the cabinet by her head and pull out plates. He moves away just as quickly, hand dropping from her waist. She blinks at him, owlishly.

Baekhyun looks up from the stove, tilting his head to the side, and he says, “Close your mouth, idiot.”

She clamps shut, reddening. Her heart beats a little too fast and she’s sure Baekhyun can hear it because his mouth pulls up into a -eating grin. She scowls. He throws his head back and cackles.

~.~.~.~.~

Yixing’s arm tightens around her waist. Sunhye tears her gaze off her phone—she’s contemplating if she should agree to Irene’s request to invite Baekhyun to Taeyong’s birthday party because she isn’t quite sure how Baekhyun and Irene will get along and it’s a little nerve-wracking. She just wants her friends to get along with her weird nutritionist vampire acquaintance, but Irene remembers Baekhyun as the boy she left the club with and Irene doesn’t trust him. She makes it very clear she doesn’t trust him and she hasn’t even met him yet.

Sunhye blinks down at Yixing’s fingers crumpling at the material of her t-shirt as he pulls her close before she glances up at him. His eyes are pinned up ahead and there’s a look on his face—a strangely pointed look. She follows his gaze slowly, expecting there to be some creepy old man leering at her or something—though Yixing makes it clear that he knows she can handle herself, if there’s someone being excessively creepy, especially someone she doesn’t notice, he tends to step in. Usually it’s very sweet of him. But this time—

Baekhyun leans against his expensive sportscar that looks so utterly out of place in their shabby neighborhood, decked out in an expensive looking leather jacket and ripped black jeans, his dark hair messy, his expression brooding. The people who pass by him all glance sideways at him, some intimidated, some in awe. Baekhyun looks breathtaking and for a moment, she can’t seem to look away.

But then Baekhyun bites out, “You’re ing late.”

She startles at his tone—it’s so harsh and it has her jumping a bit. Yixing’s fingers curl around her waist, soothing, and she focuses on that, instead of the way Baekhyun glares at Yixing, the red coloring his usually honey brown eyes.

Yixing just rolls his eyes and Sunhye has never ever, not once, seen Yixing roll his eyes at someone with such malignant intent. “It’s a nice day so we got off the bus stop early.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?”

“Nope.” Yixing lets the last syllable pop. Baekhyun visibly stiffens.

Sunhye decides she should step in then, hating how timid she sounds in the tension that’s filled the air. Yixing and Baekhyun are staring each other down, neither looking away, and there’s a sort of electricity in the air she cannot stand. One of the older ladies who live in her building blatantly stares at the three of them, hand over , as she slowly edges into the apartment building.

“Hey.” Sunhye cuts in, blinking between them, her stomach churning, “Are you guys okay?”

Baekhyun tears his eyes off Yixing first—a dimpled smile stretches across Yixing’s face the moment he does—to look at her. She cringes a little at the intensity in his eyes, because it’s unexpected, before she stands her ground, forcing herself to remain steadfast. Baekhyun’s eyes are redder than they are brown, and they make all the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. Sometimes, she tends to forget what exactly he is, what he might be capable of, but, at this moment, she’s hyperaware. Yixing’s slides a hand up and down her waist.

Baekhyun, she notices, seems to notice the movement, his eyes flickering down to her waist before it goes back to Yixing, until he finally looks at her again. His nose scrunches and he looks like he’s actively trying to soften his expression.

She watches him try for a good minute before she says, “What are you doing?”

“Smiling.” Baekhyun grunts.

“You look constipated.”

“…Shut the up.”

But Baekhyun’s smile looks a bit more genuine this time, less strained, his eyes—though scary, almost predatory—also remind her of when he’d watch her eat his cooking and hide his smile when she coos about how delicious his cooking is.

“Seriously, though.” Sunhye pulls away from Yixing’s grip to put her hands on her hips, glancing between them. “What is up with you two?”

“What do you mean?” Yixing looks confused, brows drawn together. Baekhyun just raises his brows, indignant as always.

“You’re both always so…” Sunhye gestures at them wildly.

“What the does this,” Baekhyun mimics her gestures, “Mean?”

“Tense.” Sunhye decides, pointing at both the boys. “There is tension.”

(A small voice at the back of her mind wonders if maybe it’s jealousy. She never took Yixing for the jealous type, but she did kiss Baekhyun at that club and even though she’s never explicitly told Yixing about it—she really really needs to do that, before the guilt trying to eat her alive kills her—it was implied that night and, well, maybe that’s it. Maybe they’re fighting.)

“What? Me and Baek are cool. He’s the only rich man I believe the revolution should let live.” Yixing reassures her.

Sunhye eyes them skeptically. Eventually, Baekhyun points at his car, “Can we just get in the ing car and go grocery shopping already?”

Yixing blinks, “Oh, yeah, sure.” Yixing turns to Sunhye, patting the top of her head with a smile, even as she continues watching their movements with narrowed eyes. “We’ll be back soon.”

Baekhyun sighs at her expression, “Listen, would we be going grocery shopping if we were fighting?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you both like fist-fighting in the bread aisle.” Sunhye says.

“Nah, Baek likes crying in the bread aisle. Frozen foods is the aisle where the fist-fighting happens.” Yixing tells her.

“I don’t cry, you goddamn socialis—”

“So, you’re telling me I’m just making up this tension or something?”

“I think you’re just reading too far into it.” Yixing reassures her, smoothing down a couple errant hairs before tucking them behind her ear.

Yixing sounds so rational that Sunhye finds herself nodding, slowly, dropping her skepticism. “Okay…fine, maybe you’re right.”

Yixing grins, all dimpled and soft, giggling a bit, and Sunhye spins on her heels, shouldering her backpack as she heads to the apartment building.

“Sunny.” Baekhyun calls after her. Sunhye turns around, ignoring the heat rushing to her face at the nickname. Yixing blinks at Baekhyun, an unreadable look crossing his eyes.

“…Yeah?”

“Do you need more vitamins?”

She nods, feeling a bit subdued under Baekhyun’s watchful gaze while he waits for her answer, Yixing’s warm eyes on her as well. Baekhyun nods before turning to open his car door, slipping in. Yixing waves at her.

Sunhye steps into the apartment building, frowning heavily at the stairs in front of her as she pats her cheeks. It’s not even a good nickname. She knows this, she knows this. So why do her cheeks feel so hot? She smacks her hands against her hot cheeks, shaking her head, and when she reopens her eyes, one of the elderly ladies from her building—the one that had been staring so blatantly at Baekhyun and Yixing earlier—is staring at her from her open front door. She looks like she’s judging her and Sunhye flushes bright red before she scurries up to her apartment.

~.~.~.~.~

“How old are you?” Sunhye watches Baekhyun glance up from examining the two tomatoes in his hand.

“Twenty-two.” He says, quite simply, before he returns to analyzing the tomatoes in his hands. For a moment, she is taken aback by how young that age is and the fact that that means he was turned into a vampire at such a young age. She couldn’t imagine being turned into a vampire at her age—it’s almost terrifying to imagine. She watches as he eventually gives up, shrugging, and just takes both.

“How long have you been twenty-two?” She prods. “And don’t say a while or else I am calling you Edward Cullen from here on out and you can’t do a thing about it.”

Baekhyun scowls at her for a moment before he purses his lips, pouting as he thinks. She certainly doesn’t notice how soft he looks today, his dark hair sticking to his forehead underneath his hood, his sweatshirt so big it’s almost engulfing him, and his eyes a soft, earthy brown. She certainly doesn’t care that he looks like he’s just rolled out of bed and his glares are a lot less intense than they usually are. She certainly doesn’t wonder why.

“I think it’s been…, maybe, three hundred years? Four hundred? I was born during the Joseon period.” Baekhyun gestures at the soybean sprouts and she grabs some for him. She can feel his eyes on her, gauging her reaction, maybe.

Her brain sort of…can’t process it. She can’t imagine someone being centuries old. She can’t imagine that as a possibility, even though, logically, she knows it to be true. It just doesn’t register properly. But she can feel her eyes bulging out of her head and she can’t stop the way hangs open even as she tries to busy herself with other tasks.

“That’s…” Sunhye racks her brain for a proper word. All she manages, when she turns back to the cart and finally looks Baekhyun in the eye, is, “Neat. That is super neat.”

“Neat.” Baekhyun repeats, blatantly snorting at her.

“Yeah, like, witnessing modern plumbing, huh? That must have been cool.” She knows she’s stuttering awkwardly. She reddens significantly when Baekhyun’s honey brown eyes soften as he grins at her, clearly amused by the way she bobs her head and tries to busy her hands.

“I know it’s ing weird. You don’t have to act like it’s not.” Baekhyun reaches out and ruffles her hair, a bit roughly, making her attempt to swat his hand away. Baekhyun is grinning now, huge and unhindered, grin boxy, and it lights up his face completely. “And modern plumbing? Are you ting me? Who the hell makes that their first question?”

Sunhye pulls away from his hand, swatting at him. “I was just shocked!”

Baekhyun still has his hands in her hair. She reddens when he tugs gently on her loose strands before pulling away, scoffing as he eyes her like she’s truly an idiot. She scowls back at him. The grin on his face never really goes away.

They fall into easy conversation after that. Sunhye tries to toss a bag of garlic at Baekhyun and Baekhyun nearly loses his . She cackles at his expression, wonders aloud, “So the garlic thing is real, huh?”

“No, I just really ing hate garlic.” Baekhyun scoops up the bag of garlic and tosses it back at her. She’s slightly disappointed.

After they’ve checked out and Baekhyun carries all the groceries to the car, refusing her help, and they settle into his sportscar, she finally asks the question that’s always nagged her mind whenever she thought of the very idea of immortality.

The atmosphere in the car is pleasant, Baekhyun with one hand on the wheel and the other draped so casually behind her seat, soft jazz playing from the radio. It’s getting dark—the sun setting into oranges, pinks, and pleasant purples, the horizon seemingly swallowing the reddening sun whole. She wonders, for a moment, how many sunsets Baekhyun had seen. Does he get tired of its beauty?

“Is it worth it?” Sunhye asks, breaking the comfortable silence between them with a tentative tone, hesitant to disturb their peace. “Being alive for so long?”

In the light of the setting sun, she thinks he is a thing of beauty, a painting etched from by the most delicate of hands. His eyes, though, they shine bright despite the dim lighting around them, despite the fact that he is not looking at her, eyes fixed on the road in front of them.

Immortality, she thinks, is a peculiar thing. Sometimes, she thinks it would be interesting to experience. But, the sadness in his eyes, the way it settles so deep, ancient and thriving, makes her wonder if immortality is truly more of a curse than a blessing.

Then, Baekhyun says, voice almost inaudible, “I don’t know.”

She nods, slowly.

She waits until he parallel parks in front of her apartment building, waits until after she steps out of his car and he hands her a couple grocery bags and says he’ll take the rest to his apartment for when she visits, to say, “I think it seems worth it.”

He raises a brow, watching as she fiddles with the grocery bags in her hands.

“Immortality.” She clarifies, as if he needs clarification.

He tilts his head and under the moonlight, he glows.

She stares up at him and she thinks she sees stars in his eyes as he asks her, in a mellow tone she’s never really heard from him before, “And why do you think that?”

He sounds genuinely curious.

She doesn’t want to sound selfish, doesn’t want to tell him it’s because he would have never become her free nutritionist otherwise. But the way his dark eyes maintain her gaze, holding her captive in that spot, makes her blurt out, “Because then you never would have met me.”

She flutters her fingers next to her face, batting her eyelashes at him.

After a moment of silence, Baekhyun bursts into laughter. She listens to his laugh, the way it bursts out of him and bounces off the empty street around them, so loud and unabashed, so different from the cautious gestures he’s encased himself in—perhaps from decades of practice. The moonlight washes him silver-white and sprinkles him alight with stars, and she is in awe. For just a moment, she is mystified, thinks she could sit here forever and build blueprints of the planes of his face.

But only for a moment.

His laughter dissipates until a certain disquiet settles over them. Sunhye’s fingers twitch against the plastic grocery bags.

“Yeah.” Baekhyun whispers, his tone raspy. “You’re right.”

Sunhye’s brain supplies a similar setting to this, a moment when she had her fingers threaded through his, when they had stumbled out the back door of that club and she had turned to him, taking in the beautiful smile that had dripped from his pretty lips before the world blurred, tipping sideways, for just a moment. When she had stepped away from him and pressed back against the cold brick wall and they just looked at each other, a heavy tension settling between them, the night so quiet, aside from the faint deep bass reverberating through the club behind her. Her brain supplies the setting, the details, and then the feelings, the stomach flip, and the look in his red-brown eyes, the understanding that passed between them, the small smile, and the tiny still-rational part of brain whispering Yixing, Yixing, Yixing over and over. The whisper she ignored. Why did she ignore it?

It all comes crashing down on her and she is the first to break away, the first to jolt upright, feeling as if she was caught red-handed, despite them being alone, despite her never moving any closer to him, despite him just looking at her. It feels like all the air has left her lungs as she steps back, wave small, awkward, “Well, uh, bye. I’ll see you later.”

She doesn’t see the look on his face. She just hears amusement, even as he murmurs, “Good night, Sunny.”

She can’t manage a response. Her heart is lodged in . Guilt crawls its way in when she opens the door to her apartment and finds Yixing curled up on the couch, his head popping up over the back of the couch to beam at her like the ing sun as soon as his eyes land on her.

(She’s terrible, she decides, terrible, terrible, terrible.)

a/n: I should add another warning and it's called "pining" because this fic is long and also just honestly a bunch of tiny snippets into their lives with a small plot jhdsbkjddn idk why I'm making it this long, but I hope you guys enjoy it!

I should add that baek's characterization is so different from what I usually write for him, so I hope you like it! let me know your thoughts please!!!!!

xoxo