Kyuhyun thinks the new convert is cute. Cute, and completely inept at taking social cues. 

For example, an offbeat twelve-in-the-morning knock on the door should be reserved strictly for when Kyuhyun has one hand down his pants in search of a surreptitious high, and not when he’s in the middle of something actually important (like, gaming). Kyuhyun indulges it anyway, only and ONLY  because his team is . 

“Please don’t come in,” Kyuhyun drones, clicking incessantly at his mouse.

“I’m coming,” the small voice answers from behind the door. 

“Harder baby,” the man-boy slouched in his gaming chair deadpans, still clicking, “Don’t stop.” 

Technically this was Siwon’s fault, Kyuhyun thinks. Most things are, but especially this. Kyuhyun had been quite satisfied with their little parasitic arrangements up until then; which largely involved Siwon paying rent for this chic one bedroom apartment on the Bloodling side of town, and Kyuhyun blowing him in return, semi-regularly. Regularly enough for Siwon to feel content with the illusion of a relationship.

And it had been a good movie too, so good that Kyuhyun wanted nothing more than to divorce himself from Siwon’s company for the rest of the night, just to troll through pages of reddit discussions. 

But then “Hyukjae” just had to be there, on the wrong side of town, in some dark and abandoned alley, dying. Mother of all cliches. It was perfect, Kyuhyun groans inwardly, because Siwon was God and maybe even Jesus in situations like these.

“Why? Does ‘helping random humans’ fall under the thousand-up category in the karma points catalogue?”

“Just help me, will you?”

Hyukjae, as they had come to find out, was also an orphan. An orphan by choice but an orphan no less.

“—two thousand karma points to Siwon Choi! Facetime me from heaven so I can flip you off.”

Kyuhyun had had his taste of humans before, both literally and figuratively; see, a human had killed his family once, so needless to say he wasn’t the biggest fan. Converts, and new converts at that however, were an entirely different breed.

“I’m hungry,” Hyukjae whines, just as Kyuhyun had begun to power off his computer. His eyes are fuzzy from the game and everything in view is still settling into obtuse, blurred-out chiaroscuros of light and shadow and then into a large pink wait what the is Hyukjae wearing.

“Pwease,” the large pink sweater before him speaks, and he’s quick to realise it even has pink fabric paws for hands. Wow, Kyuhyun’s thinks, but Kyuhyun sweeps the thought away, or down, rather.

“I fed you,” Kyuhyun replies, “Twenty-four hours ago. And you stole my share of blood bank blood—wh—why can’t you just eat the leftover cheese pizza in the fridge?”

“I’m lactose intolerant, idiot.