Yohan swallows convulsively and nervously pats down his hair, even though it’s already his third time doing it and by now he’s probably just messing it up. There are no magazines or anything to read, and he had been forced to give his phone so he has nothing to do except look at his increasingly harried reflection in the mirror. For a bizarre moment, he wonders if this mirror would show the reflection of the house’s inhabitants.

His head jerks up as he hears a set of footsteps. Seungyoun, the immaculately dressed man who had led him into the parlour (that’s what he called it: a parlour), reappears and looks at him expressionlessly.

“He’s ready to see you now.”

Yohan jerks up from his seat. “O-okay.” He gives a nervous smile, but Seungyoun doesn’t return it.

“Follow me,” he merely says, turning and walking away at such a brisk place that Yohan almost has to jog to keep up with him.

Seungyoun leads him up two sets of winding staircases, passing by elaborate crystal chandeliers and elegant oil paintings. Yohan has never been anywhere so fancy before, and it just makes him feel even more self-conscious. His nerves are probably thrumming by the time Seungyoun stops at a door and knocks.

“Kim Yohan is here,” he says. Yohan had expected to be referred to as “the human” or something worse; it almost makes him start to hear his name from Seungyoun’s mouth.

Yohan doesn’t hear any reply from within, but there must be some kind of signal because Seungyoun pushes open the door and gestures for Yohan to enter.

“Oh, do I just—” Yohan says, and he ends up tripping over his feet. There’s a soft click behind him; Seungyoun had shut the door. Yohan hurriedly straightens up and composes himself. There’s a soft sound from the other end of the room.

“I’m guessing that’s not how you wanted to make a first impression.”

He realizes that the sound was a laugh. A gentle, almost musical laugh. Not the kind of booming chuckle or menacing cackle one would expect from a vampire lord. And when Yohan’s eyes adjust to the dim lighting and lock on the figure leaning back against a simple office chair, he certainly doesn’t fit the image Yohan had of one either.

He’s—beautiful, is the first thing Yohan thinks. His appearance is more like the teenage romance kind of vampire than anything else, pale and handsome, with tousled hair and dark circles under his eyes. He looks younger than Yohan, but Yohan knows that doesn’t mean much when it comes to immortals.

“Kim Yohan?”

“Uh, yes.” Yohan remembers to close his mouth. “And you must be Wooseok. Sorry, I mean, Wooseok ssi? Nim?”

Wooseok smiles. “No need for such formalities. I have a few years on you so you can call me hyung if you want.”

A few years? That’s certainly an understatement. “I can’t do that,” Yohan blurts out. “That would be so-so disrespectful.”

“It’s not disrespectful if I give you permission,” Wooseok says with another smile. “I insist – call me hyung.”

There’s nothing particular about his tone, it’s not commanding or forceful, but Yohan wonders if Wooseok has some kind of power because Yohan feels compelled to listen to him.

Only later would he realize that it’s not a power at all. Or at least, not the supernatural kind. Just the power of Wooseok.

“So.” Yohan swallows. “How should we do this?”

Wooseok’s expression turns serious. “Well, first I have to lie down in my coffin for a bit to prepare. And then I’ll put you under a trance.”

Yohan’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“No.” Wooseok laughs. “Just sit and relax. It’ll be fast. A little painful but only for a moment. I’ll have some refreshments prepared for you because you’ll probably feel a bit weak afterwards. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“N-no.”

Wooseok laughs again. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”

Yohan’s face warms. “It’s just that… You’re not what I expected.”

Wooseok’s expression sobers. “I get that a lot. You probably expected me to have fangs and stare lustfully at your neck while cringing from sunlight and garlic and crosses, right?”

I wouldn’t mind if you stared lustfully at me, Yohan can’t help but think, and he almost blushes at his own thoughts. “Well, wouldn’t I have had to bring some of those things? Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have left my stake at home.”

He worries he’s gone too far when Wooseok stares at him with an unreadable look for a second, but then Wooseok’s face crumples in laughter. He’s really almost painfully handsome when he laughs like that.

“I hope I haven’t done anything to make you want to attack me,” he says with a rather…toothy smile. His canine teeth are a perfectly normal size and sharpness. The expression makes Yohan shiver, but not out of fear. Not at all. Wooseok must misinterpret the reaction, because his expression turns solemn again, almost a little sad. “You have no reason to fear me. I would not hurt you.”

“I know that,” Yohan says quickly. “I mean, I’m your personal blood bank, right?”

Wooseok winces a little, and Yohan regrets his wording. “I do not think of you as that,” he says softly. “Yes, we are here because of a…transaction. But I do not view you as a source of sustenance.” His brow knits. “Likewise, I hope you do not perceive me as a bloodthirsty monster from horror tales.”

“Horror tales?” Yohan scoffs. “More like romance novels. Have you seen yourself?” He freezes right after the words leave his mouth. It seems that around Wooseok, his mouth goes to another setting. A stupidly uninhibited one.

“I can’t,” Wooseok says seriously. “I have no reflection.”

“Oh.” Yohan frowns. “That’s a shame.”

Wooseok grins, that disarming, boyish one again. “I’m kidding. That’s just a silly myth. Most of them are.”

“Oh,” Yohan repeats, his cheeks going warm. “So you don’t burn in the sunlight or get repelled by garlic?”

“No. In fact, I love a good dash of garlic in my food.”

Yohan blinks. “You eat?”

“Of course,” Wooseok says. “Do you think I just drink blood? That would be a boring diet.”

“Well…” Actually, that’s exactly what he thought.

“It seems that you have a lot of misconceptions about vampires,” Wooseok notes. He doesn’t sound offended or upset, just matter-of-fact, but Yohan still feels a wave of embarrassment flood over him. As if sensing that, Wooseok gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s all right. That’s common. We are a secretive lot, and we like to minimize interaction with other kinds of beings.”

“Does that mean all of your friends are vampires?”

“I don’t have many friends,” Wooseok says softly. “I have advisors and subordinates. That is what is expected of a lord.”

“Oh,” Yohan says quietly, with a stab of something rather like pity. “That is…unfortunate.”

“You feel sorry for me,” Wooseok says, in that matter-of-fact tone again.

“No, I feel sorry for them.”

Wooseok’s brow crinkles. “Who?”

“The people who are missing out on the chance to be your friends.”

Wooseok is starting to smile. “And why would they be missing out?”

“Well.” Yohan’s face is going warm again, and his tongue feels thick. He stops there awkwardly, but Wooseok tactfully doesn’t comment on it.

“I hate to cut our conversation short,” Wooseok says apologetically, “but I feel rather…” He touches his throat. “Would you mind…?”

“Oh! Oh, right, of course.” Yohan stands up, and then sits down again. “How do you want me?” As soon as he says the words, he flushes from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, and Wooseok chuckles but his eyes look the slightest bit darker for a moment.

“You would probably be the most comfortable in a seated position.” Yohan has noticed that Wooseok’s speech sometimes suddenly becomes more formal. “You can remain where you are and I’ll come to you.” His voice is calm, almost soothing, like he’s worried he’ll spook Yohan.

“Okay,” Yohan says.

Wooseok unfolds himself from his chair with a kind of casual, sinuous grace. He’s shorter than Yohan expected, a few inches shorter than Yohan himself, but despite his small frame he manages to effortlessly exude a powerful aura. Yohan has a feeling that even if he weren’t a vampire, he would have a similar captivating effect.

Rather than standing over Yohan, Wooseok pulls over another chair and sits beside him. “Would you mind ing your shirt?” he asks politely.

Wooseok’s almost clinical tone helps keep away another blush. Yohan almost feels like he’s at the doctor’s office due for an examination. His fingers fumble with the top button of his pale blue Oxford (Hangyul had told him to wear it because it looks nice on him and he should leave a good impression) and it takes him entirely too long to unfasten it, but Wooseok gives no sign of impatience or annoyance. Yohan’s neck is still pretty covered up so he undoes another button and then tugs his collar down.

“Is this okay?” he asks hesitantly.

Wooseok’s eyes are on his and they dip to sweep over Yohan’s neck in a glance that Yohan can almost feel like a physical caress. “That’s fine. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes?” It comes out like a question.

“Good.” Wooseok leans in, slowly, and brushes a hand over Yohan’s exposed neck, eliciting a shiver from Yohan. “Are you ready?” he asks, his voice rather husky, and Yohan swallows. He doesn’t miss the way Wooseok’s eyes glue to the bob of his throat as he does so, like his teeth want to follow.

“Y-yes.”

Wooseok’s brow furrows and he pulls back slightly. “Are you sure?” His voice is gentle. “You can still back out if you want. I won’t hold it against you.”

Yohan doesn’t miss the strain in the set of his jaw. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Wooseok admits, “but I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“Why not?” Yohan can’t help but ask.

Wooseok’s eyes widen. “Pardon?” he actually says, like some gentleman with old-fashioned manners. Then again, he probably is.

“You don’t have to be so nice to me. I agreed to come here and do this, after all.”

“You’re allowed to change your mind.” Wooseok’s expression is almost painfully sincere. “I would never make you do something against your will, Yohan.”

Yohan realizes that it’s the first time Wooseok’s called him by his name. It’s—nice. “Thanks, hyung,” he finds himself saying, and the surprised but pleased look Wooseok gives him brings a smile to his face. “Come on, let’s get started.”

A/N: There may or may not be more? It depends on my muse and she is v stubborn.

I miss YoCat I miss X1 ;__________;