Cohabiting with another will always be troublesome and rocky at the start. For one, Irene and Seulgi’s body clocks are the complete opposite. Two, Seulgi’s place is quaint and cozy, but a little small for two people. And three, the house is a mess.

     Papers are scattered on the floor. There are sticks of charcoal lying around whatever platform they could be placed on that stains Irene’s hands when she’s reaching around or propping herself up. The wooden trinkets on the shelves, sculptures of rabbits, bears, squirrels, chicks, and turtles, are under a thick blanket of dust with webs weaving through each of them. Seulgi places whatever item she has in her hands on the nearest flat surface and forgets to return them to their proper place. 

    So, Irene took it upon herself to make the place spotless and organized. Seulgi leaves an hour after noon. The sun would set at 7, and Seulgi would return before midnight. That gave her a few hours to start fixing things up. 

     It took her three days, but Seulgi’s home was finally spick and span. No more clothes on the backs of chairs. No more charcoal dust on the furniture. Not a single hair out of place. 

***

     “Irene, have you seen my paints?”

     “Irene, I can’t find my hair ties.”

     “Irene, where did you place my toolbox?”

     “Irene, my ink bottles are missing.”

     Irene, Irene, Irene. It was all she could hear day in and day out. She was starting to lose her mind. All those years of traveling solo and now she has to deal with her name being called every few minutes when Seulgi was home. One time, Seulgi even woke her up during the day before she left for work because she couldn’t find her spare shoelaces. Suffice to say, Irene was regretting cleaning the place. But only a little bit.

     She begrudgingly admits that… she likes the attention Seulgi’s giving her. She likes the way Seulgi calls her name like a birdsong, chipper, and lively, and it snatches her attention right away. 

     She doesn’t complain, doesn’t tell Seulgi to look for things on her own, and doesn’t resist. Handing things over to Seulgi meant a chance of fleeting touches. If anything, Irene is glad. It’s been a long, long time since she’s felt this seen.

     Irene simply responds by rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue, inwardly relishing in the banter that ensues, before helping Seulgi. And the quick but sincere ‘thanks!’ she gets every time is enough to keep her from leaving.

***

     Seulgi gets home, and before Irene could greet her, she shoves a small bundled-up towel into her hands.

     “For you,” says Seulgi with her sunshine smile and anticipation in her eyes.

     “What’s the occasion?”

     “I kind of felt bad leaving you here all alone. And I always fall asleep too soon. I made you something, so you don’t feel lonely,” Seulgi tells her shyly. She knows how lonely her house could feel, and she felt guilty. She kind of forced her presence into Irene’s life. Secretly, she learned how to make metal crafts from Kai, the blacksmith’s apprentice. “Open it. I hope you like it.”

     Irene carefully unfolds the towel in her hands and gasps. Inside laid a small pin of a purple cosmos flower. Handcrafted and delicately made, it’s imperfect and a little clumsy. Irene thinks it’s beautiful.

     Seulgi sees Irene’s astonished expression and her smile gets impossibly wider. “I’m guessing you like it?”

     “I love it!” Irene suddenly lunges forward and wraps her arms around Seulgi’s neck in a quick hug. 

     Seulgi is left flustered by the doorway as Irene busies herself with looking at the pin closer to the oil lamp by the bed.

     The hug finally registers in Irene’s mind just before she falls asleep as the sun rises, the pin attached to the collar of her shirt. And she buries her face in Seulgi's pillow in glee.

***

     Seulgi’s late. Irene’s been waiting for an hour and dinner has gone cold on the table. (She revealed to Seulgi, one disastrous night of cooking, that she could cook up quite the storm back when she was human. After nearly burning down the kitchen, Irene forbade Seulgi from touching the stove ever again.) Just when she was about to head out, Seulgi opened the door slowly. Her face was bashful as she tried to hide a small sack behind her. 

     “Hey, hehe.”

     “Hey,” mocked Irene in a faux stern tone.

     “Sorry, I got caught up with something,” said Seulgi as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, but you’re going to love this!”

     “After dinner,” Irene commands.

     And Seulgi half-heartedly agrees. 

     She finishes dinner quickly. Irene looks at her from over the rim of the glass she’s drinking from the whole time. Seulgi leans back and pats her belly. 

     “Amazing as always, Irene!”

     “It would’ve tasted better hot.” Irene leans forward. “Care to explain why you were late?”

     Seulgi laughs. The scenario reminds her of her own parents during dinner. “I got out at the usual time, but Joy told me that the weird merchant selling trinkets visited. He’s a middle-aged man who travels from town to town with his mule. Anyway, apparently, I missed him by a few minutes, so I ran to try to catch up after him.” 

     Seulgi grabs the sack she was carrying when she came in and handed it to Irene. “I got this for you.”

     Irene opens the sack and her nose is flooded with the scent of lemongrass and citrus.

     “You’re always sniffing the fruits I buy. And you’re not so sneaky trying to get whiffs of my clothes, whether you’re doing the laundry or when I'm wearing clean ones!” 

     At that moment, Irene thanks the Gods that she can’t blush as she stares at the bars of soap inside the bag.

     “Thank you, Seulgi,” mumbles Irene.

     “You’re very welcome!”

***

     Sometimes, Seulgi comes home smelling like sunshine and grass. 

     Seulgi catches Irene sniffing one of her shirts she wore during those days. They're crouching behind Seulgi's small home, a single lamp illuminating them.

     "Whoa, whoa, wait, don't smell that. It stinks," Seulgi warns.

     "Mhm," she hums in agreement, "stinkier than usual. Why is that?"

     Seulgi's ears heat up at Irene's remark on her shirt's smell. "I sweat a lot! And I sweat more when I move around outside." Seulgi excuses herself lamely. "I play with Yeri and her sisters sometimes. We run around flying kites. I push the little ones around on wagons. Yeri pushes me into the mud. Good times."

     Irene merely hums and continues doing laundry. Her eyebrows slant into a frustrated furrow at the thought of not being able to hang clothes in the sun, instead, hanging them in the dark, like a little gremlin. 

     Irene feels a stare boring into the side of her head.

     "What?"

     "When was the last time you played around outdoors, Rene?"

     "I don't know... I guess before I was turned."

    "And how long ago was that?" asks Seulgi, turning her whole body towards Irene. Her focus on one-hundred percent.

     "Almost two centuries ago? I've lost count"

     Seulgi's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "Two centuries?!" 

     "I think. Could be more, could be less. I don't really keep track."

     "So that means you haven't played any card games?" 

     "Heard of some, but no."

     Seulgi's eyes seem to get larger at Irene's answer.

     "Chess?!"

     "Never had the chance."

     "Cricket?!"

     Irene tuts her head no.

     Seulgi is crouched next to Irene scandalized. She couldn't believe her ears.

     The next night, Seulgi comes home with a ball and a cricket bat. Seulgi is dead tired the next day from staying up with Irene, but it was worth it. Seeing Irene hop in glee every time she hit the ball successfully. 

     For the whole week, Seulgi has a new board game, card game, or outdoor sport to teach Irene. Joy and Yeri are concerned when she arrives tired at the diner, but the dopey smile on her face chases away their worries. 

***

     Seulgi notices how Irene absentmindedly scratches on the edge of the table. She's reading the instructions for a game of Blackjack, zoned out, a piece of paper on her left hand and her right hand clawing at the surface of the table.

     Seulgi reaches forward to place her hand on top of Irene's fidgeting one. 

     Jerking back, Irene crinkles the paper in her hand by accident. 

     "Sorry," they both say in unison.

     There's an awkward silence between them as they avoid looking at each other. Irene breaks the silence first.

     "I'm, um, cold." 

     "Huh? should I add more wood to the fireplace?"

     "No!" Irene quickly refutes, "I meant that I'm literally cold. It's, uh... It might not be comfortable for you." 

     Irene places her hand back onto the table as a sign of it not being a big deal.

     Seulgi snorts. She inches her hand slowly, watching if Irene wants to pull away, and links their pinkies together. 

     "You're going to dig a hole on my table," Seulgi jokes.

     Irene lets their hands stay together until Seulgi retires to her bed.

     When she knows Seulgi is deep in dreamland, snoring lightly, she sits next to the bed. She stares at Seulgi's relaxed and peaceful expression, free from mischief and teasing. Her hand hovers over Seulgi's forehead, about to tuck away stray hairs. She freezes and she quickly retracts her actions, holding her own hand like it was about to betray her. She brings her hands to where her heart used to beat and exhales heavily. Irene wills herself to forget about that night.

***

     One evening, Seulgi comes barraging in like a storm of joy, barely containing her excitement.

     “Rene! I’m home.”

     “Good Evening, Seulgi.” Irene greets with a smile from the dining table, a warm mug of blood in her hands.

     “Oh come on! Give me more spirit,” hoots Seulgi. “You’re not matching my intensity. Give me some power!”

     “What’s got you all riled up?” Irene giggles while Seulgi grabs her hand and flails it around the air in her stead. Irene makes her hand turn limp in Seulgi’s efforts to make her wave.

     “I have some good news!” Seulgi pauses for dramatic effect and sits next to Irene. “There’s a new group of morticians in town. That means my work hours will be cut in half, so I can spend more time with you!” Seulgi beams as Irene tilts her head, slightly confused.

     “How will that even work?”

     “I’ll be leaving at the same time as always, but I’ll be home by 8. We’ll both be awake and have ‘breakfast’ together! I can even introduce you to Wendy formally. She doesn’t know you’re a vampire, by the way. I didn’t think that was my secret to tell.” rambles Seulgi, like she’s been thinking of all of this for quite a while. “Our sleep times will line up too! I’ll be here and you won’t have to sleep alone anymore. I see you shiver in your sleep sometimes, you know. You can’t fool me. You do get cold. But don’t worry! I give the warmest bear hugs.”

     Irene feels a squeeze at her heart. It’s almost as if Seulgi’s forcefully resuscitating her cold, dead body. Seulgi’s doing a terrible job, by the way. Irene’s heart is skipping beats instead of pumping in rhythmic pulses. 

     She didn’t notice how close they'd gotten. Shoulders touching and warm orange light caressing Seulgi’s face, Irene feels like she’s staring into Seulgi’s soul. She knows she should be happy. She’s thankful, yes. But there’s this weird feeling tugging at her heart. It feels too close. Too intimate. Too bare. And Irene is undeserving of her honesty.

     Irene’s insecurity grips at before she could bottle up her feelings. Seulgi’s too nice. She’s too generous. She’s too trusting. She’s too lovable. Irene doesn’t know what to do with that last thought.

     It was alright living with Seulgi the past month. She was always an arm’s length away. It was easy to enjoy a few hours of Seulgi’s company. She could cherish Seulgi from afar.

     But spending more time with her? That would be a problem. Irene can’t get too close. She will not. 

     The quiet stretches for too long and Seulgi’s smile starts to falter. 

     “Irene?”

     The vampire stares at the mug on the table. She thinks about its contents. It’s dirty and disgusting. And she hates that her body depends on it.

***

     She remembers the first time she saw blood. 

     She tripped in the field in front of her family’s house while playing with a friend. They held purple flowers in their tiny hands. Joohyun’s bunch scattered on the grass when she fell. Her mother rushed to her side, wiping her tears, wiping the red off her knees and palms. Her friend stood behind her, patting her back and poking her chubby cheeks before offering her a flower to make her feel better.

     She remembers her first time tasting blood. 

     A knife in her hand inside a pocket, walking alone at night. Her father warned her that monsters lurked at night. She thought he was referring to bandits or drunkards. 

     A few minutes before reaching home, she was ambushed--meek prey in the face of the predators skulking in the shadows. Someone grabbed her from the back, a hand on and around her arms moving too fast for her to escape, and she felt a sharp pain on the right side of her neck. 

     Despite her appearance, small and frail, her father raised a fighter. The world doesn’t take too kindly to beautiful women, he told her when he gifted her a silver dagger for her birthday. Pulling her knife out, she stabs it into her attacker's thigh, but the brute doesn’t falter. She was starting to feel faint, her fingers and legs were tingling and starting to go numb. Still, she fought ‘till her last breath. 

     Biting the hand on , she tastes cold metal running down . Her attacker’s blood tasted like fear and corruption. Fangs still attached to , she bites harder, tearing off three fingers, and the man behind her finally lets her go.

     Joohyun feels like she’s been set on fire, pain stabbing at her head. Her body feels like it’s being torn apart from the inside out. 

     She watches as her hands grab at the man with light hair clutching his bleeding hand. It’s like her body wasn’t hers. She watches as she bites the man, ripping out his throat and the foreign blood entering her system once more. She can’t hear anything, but she feels the vibrations of the man screaming bloody murder. She’s scared. She seeks her mother’s love, her friend’s comfort, and her father’s guidance.

     She blinks and the man is gutted, unrecognizable. 

     She blinks again, and she hears the shouts of her father and the cries of her mother. A burning pain sears a revolting scar across her stomach by the hands of her own father.

     She blinks again, and she hears the screams of children, the anguish of people. Joohyun can’t stop. She’s powerless to her own body.

     She feels a tight hug from her childhood friend, trying to restrain her, and Joohyun cries. The next moment, all she feels is warm wetness on her entire body, red painting her vision.

     And throughout it all, she smells iron. It smells hot, choking her, before turning sweet, savory almost. She feels herself crave for more, before she blacks out completely.

***

     “Irene?” 

     She snaps out of her daze, lowering her head, her blonde hair like a curtain hiding her face. 

     “Irene, what’s wrong?” asks Seulgi with a voice ever so soft. “Did I say something that upset you? I’m sorry--”

     “Why are you doing this,” says Irene. It wasn’t a question. She didn’t want an answer.

     “Because you’re a friend… We’re friends, aren’t we?”

     “Why…” Irene grumbles. She clutches at her head, disheveling her hair and knuckles turning white. “Why?!” Irene yells, the words getting stuck in . 

     Irene stands suddenly, knocking down the chair she was sitting on. “, Seulgi. Why do you keep doing these things? I’m a vampire--a monster, and yet you… Why do you look at me like that? I can’t read your thoughts and it’s--” Irene makes a growling noise of frustration. ”Am I your little pet? Do I fuel your ego? Am I your little charity case?” Irene swivels her head to look directly into Seulgi’s eyes. “You’re too much, it’s suffocating,” she spat.

     “You’re always butting into situations that don't concern you! Always wanting to be the hero. Always nice, kind, and good Seulgi.” I don’t need you, she thinks. “People don’t need you, Seulgi,” she says instead.

      Seulgi’s face is twisted in sorrow when Irene regains her senses. Tears silently flow from her eyes before looking down and standing up to leave.

      “Sorry,” is all Seulgi says.

      Irene made a mistake.

     “Wait! I didn’t--”

     “Irene…” Seulgi sighs, wiping her face with her hand. “I’m going to Wendy’s place. I’m tired, and you’re frustrated. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Seulgi doesn’t look at her while she speaks.

     Irene watches as Seulgi opens the door and leaves.

A/N

Just in case anyone's confused on how Irene turned into a vampire:

Vampiric Turning Ritual

-The ritual is highly empathetic in nature. The head vampire must have clear intentions when commencing.

-The human sacrifice is fed the blood of the vampire turning them.

-The vampire bite seals the ritual. The head vampire drains the human of their blood.

-The effect is instantaneous, lightening the human’s hair and turning their eyes red. 

-Bloodlust is the first instinct a newly born vampire has. The vampire in charge of the ritual must quell the newly born vampire by letting them feed once again. This puts them to sleep as their heightened senses develop.

-Vampire rituals held in uncontrolled environments result in carnage. The bloodlust overpowers their conscious, and the heightened senses further angers the newly born vampire.

P.S. purple cosmos are pretty and the symbolism isn't really something big in regards to the story but is interesting nonetheless

hehe thats all thanks for reading!!