Yuta wonders, as he travels by foot through the streets of Moscow, winding his way through the masses of people, why on earth anyone would ever want to live here.
Other than the prestigious architecture and history, the bitter cold and dozens of feet of snow the city produces yearly was more than enough incentive to shy him away from ever visiting here (or at least, only visiting when Ten begs him twice a year to come watch his cat for the week while he has rehearsal before a show.)
Flying from Seoul to Moscow to watch a cat was probably a strange thing to do for most people (and a waste of time and money), but Yuta does miss seeing Ten. He'd moved over two years ago after accepting an offer to join the Bolshoi Ballet, and phone calls could only do so much for someone as social as Yuta, who needs to be with a person to feel like he's having a proper conversation with them.
So, when Ten had first joined, and called Yuta in a panic the week before his first show wailing that he hadn't been there long enough to know anyone and didn't speak Russian and he was going to be spending nights at the theater rehearsing the choreography and didn't have anyone to feed his cat, Yuta stupidly offered himself up as a babysitter, too blinded by Ten's absence to realize what exactly that entailed.
That was two years ago, and somehow Yuta had ended up coming back each year before Ten's shows to "watch his cat" (which was more of an excuse to just visit and complain about the bitter cold and take nice pictures for his mom back home.)
At the moment, Yuta is trying to remember which street he has to turn on to get back to Ten's apartment. He can't read any of the signs, despite Ten's many failed attempts at teaching him basic Russian phrases and letters, but he doesn't really mind. It was nice to wander. He liked being lost in a different city. It made him feel like he was in an alternate universe.
He finally finds the right street, only recognizing it by the kitsch looking toy shop on the corner. He's a few blocks away from the apartment when a strong gust of wind sends a paper plastered against the bricks flying right into his face. He splutters stupidly, and he thinks he hears some kids nearby laughing at him as he waves his arms wildly trying to get it off.
When he finally pulls it off, he's about to toss it in the trash when something catches his eye. The paper is an obnoxious bright yellow color, no doubt to catch reader's attention, but that's not what gets his. It's written in Russian, obviously, so Yuta has no idea what it says, but right smack dab in the middle is a black and white, blurry mugshot of a vampire.
Yuta had only met a handful of vampires in his entire life- most of them when he was a child, as they had become increasingly endangered over the years, hunted almost to extinction for the ivory their fangs are made of, and their saliva, which many people believed had healing powers. He doesn't remember much about them, but he does remember meeting one at a park when he was little. He had been on the swing set, and another girl around his age had gotten onto the swing beside him, matching her pace with his. He smiled at her, and she'd smiled back, flashing tiny fangs where her canines should be. His mother had immediately grabbed his hand and dragged him away, and to this day he remembers the sad look on the girl’s face as he left.
The photo is of a vampire that killed someone in the eighties in London. It's a picture that's been used constantly since, mostly in anti-vampire propaganda and school safety videos. It's used so often Yuta doesn't think there's anyone on earth who doesn't know the man's face; slicked back hair, dark eyes and lips pulled back into a snarl so his fangs are bared while he holds a placard up for the camera.
He hadn't seen this photo used in awhile, not since high school when they made all the students take a class on vampire safety and precautions. The flyer has lots of exclamation points on it, so he figures it must be a warning of sorts. He pockets it, reminding himself to ask Ten to translate it when he gets back.
The flyer slips his mind completely until he wears the same jeans nearly two days later. He's digging through his suitcase looking for something clean to wear, and when he puts the jeans on and checks the pockets he finds the crumpled up, folded flyer. He nearly trips over himself running out of the room to get Ten.
He finds Ten on the living room floor, the coffee table pushed aside as the other stretches. He's in a full split, stretching his foot back as he does so, and he doesn't even bother getting up when Yuta slides past him on the wood floors and thrusts the flyer in his face.
"What does this say?" Yuta demands, dropping to sit cross-legged beside him.
Ten clears his throat, letting go of his foot to point his toes in those silly half socks he wears that Yuta thinks make his feet look delicate and feminine. He takes the paper and scans it, one eyebrow raising as he does.
"It's a wanted poster," He explains, handing it back to Yuta. He rises out of his split carefully so he can switch legs, and then sinks back down with ease. "It says there were multiple sightings of a vampire in the seventh district, and to let the authorities know if you see it."
Yuta looks down at the flyer. "That's it?"
"Well, what did you think it said?" Ten snorts as he stretches forward to pull at his other foot.
"I don't know," Yuta say, trying to hide his disappointment. He sighs, crumpling up the paper again and tossing it across the room. "Are they allowed to arrest vampires here?"
"I don't think they'd even arrest it. They'd probably just shoot it on sight," Ten comments. "Russians don't give a fuck. They don't have the same laws as we do in Korea."
"I don't even think there are any vampires left in Korea," Yuta says wistfully.
"There's bunches in Russia," Ten replies, rising out of his split to sit cross-legged as well and begin stretching his arms. "Supposedly there's, like, dozens out in the Ural mountains. They never come to the cities, so that's why there's a flyer out."
Yuta's eyes widen as he imagines hundreds of vampires wandering the freezing, ice capped mountains. "Have you been there?"
Ten gives him a pointed look. "I don't even have time to feed my own cat. Does it look like I have time to go vampire watching in the mountains?"
Yuta sighs, getting to his feet. "You're no fun."
"You're no fun!" Ten shoots back defensively. "I have five shows in a row next week! Go play Van Helsing with someone else."
Yuta picks up one of the other boy's pointe shoes from the coffee table and flings it in his direction. It misses, but Ten shrieks at him anyway while Yuta scampers off hiding his laughter.
Yuta has never been quick witted. Fast thinking and problem solving has never been his forte, and most of the time putting him in situations that forced him to do just that made him crack under the pressure.
This thought crosses his mind when he finds himself staring at a pool of blood on the sidewalk, almost indistinguishable from the melted snow puddles in the dark, the only light available the flickering street lamps. But Yuta can smell that sickly copper smell that only comes from blood, and see the deep red tint to the puddle.
The streets are empty, nearing two in the morning. He had slipped out to the 24 hour pharmacy to pick up painkillers for Ten after the other had kept him awake the past two nights wailing over sore feet and torn ligaments. He had expected bitter cold, and winds that made his cheeks ache, but he hadn’t expected to follow drops of blood along the sidewalk into an alley only to find a huddled figure in the corner, sitting in a pool of what could only be their own blood.
It’s so dark Yuta can barely make out the shape, but as his eyes adjust, he can pick out small details. Broad shoulders, short hair, long legs curled underneath them.
Yuta clears his throat, desperately trying to remember the most basic Russian words Ten had taught him over the years.
“Hello?” He tries. The person moves just the slightest, curling into themselves even more, hiding behind their black wool coat. Yuta wrings his hands in front of him. He doesn’t know anything other than Hello, Goodbye, Thank You, and Have you seen my cat? in Russian.
He tries switching to English, which was pretty commonly spoken in Moscow from what he’d experienced, and he was much better at. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”
He steps forward, and the person lets out a weak whimpering noise, scrambling to get further away from him. He pulls back immediately, holding his hands in the air as a sign of peace, until the person pulls at their coat again and he can see their face and more of their body.
They’re absolutely covered in blood, almost to the point Yuta doesn’t believe it’s all their own, because surely no one would be able to survive losing that much blood? As they move, they hiss in pain, and Yuta catches a glimpse of their chest, sweater torn open in slashes, blood still soaking into the fabric. Even their face, hidden in the shadows, is clearly smeared with blood.
“Oh, fuck,” Yuta breathes out, completely forgetting to speak English and stumbling over his words in Korean instead. “Oh, fuck, you’re really hurt. Fuck. Just-just hold on.”
His hands shake as he pulls his phone from his pocket and punches in Ten’s phone number.
“Did you get-” Ten starts the second he answers, but Yuta cuts him off.
“Ten, there’s uh, this person,” Yuta starts. “This guy, fuck, Ten, he’s bleeding everywhere. He needs help, I don’t know what to do-”
Ten lets out a noise like he choked on his own spit. “What? What are you talking about?”
“This fucking person is dying in front of me!” Yuta snaps. “They’re just bleeding everywhere and I don’t speak any Russian and I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay, um, calm down,” Ten says, which really does nothing to help at all. “Where are you? How much blood is there?”
“Like, a ton,” Yuta leans forward slightly, trying to catch the person’s eyes, but it’s so dark he can barely find them. “I don’t know how he’s even alive right now, there’s so much fucking blood. I don’t even know if he’s fully conscious.”
“Where are you?”
A car ambles by on the street behind him, their headlights flashing into the alleyway for a split second. As Ten’s voice echoes through his phone, the light illuminates the man. The blood shining bright red, splattered everywhere, the pool underneath his feet. When Yuta looks at his face, he’s looking directly at him, eyes wide and bright and slightly scared.
The man opens his mouth as though to speak, and all Yuta sees in that second is fangs.
“Yuta!” Ten shouts, and Yuta is snapped out of the moment as the car passes and he’s thrown into pitch darkness again. “Are you okay?”
“Vampire ,” Yuta whispers, but it comes out so quietly it was more like he just exhaled, eyes locked with the other man’s- or vampire’s.
“What? Are you okay?”
“Vampire. It’s a vampire,” Yuta repeats, voice shaky and slow. “It’s not a person, Ten.”
Ten curses. “Fuck, Yuta, get out of there! Where are you? Oh my god, let me call the police to come collect it, it must be the one that was loose in the seventh district. Fuck, where are you-”
As Ten prattles on, the vampire mouths something at him. It’s too dark for Yuta to see what he’s saying, and he doesn’t even speak Russian. He takes a step closer, and this time the vampire doesn’t shy away, instead trying again to speak.
Finally, over Ten’s panicked yelling, Yuta hears it. In a deep, gentle voice, that definitely did not fit the current situation, the vampire murmurs in perfect Korean, “Help.”
Only a little frozen in place by shock, Yuta has enough mind to cut Ten off. “Don’t call the cops!”
Ten shrieks, high pitched and piercing, and even the vampire winces at the sound. “Are you out of your fucking mind? That thing is gonna kill you!”
“It’s not,” Yuta says, inching forward slowly towards the wounded creature. The vampire still doesn’t move, and the closer Yuta gets the more he can recognize the emotion in his eyes- which is definitely fear. “It’s scared.”
“It’s scared ?” Ten repeats. “I swear to fucking god, Yuta, if you bring that thing back to my apartment-”
“But it’s hurt!”
Ten starts shouting in Russian, voice raising an octave higher the angrier he gets. Yuta hangs up.
The two of them are thrown into silence, and now that he’s closer Yuta can hear the vampire’s ragged breathing. From what he knows, vampires don’t need to breathe to survive, but when they’re badly injured, they use it to help them heal faster.
Yuta keeps his hands raised in front of him in a sign of peace until he’s standing over the vampire, who just stares at him, brow furrowed in fear.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Yuta says slowly. He doesn’t think the vampire understands, but he blinks at him like he does.
Yuta drops to his knees, wincing when he feels the pool of blood immediately start soaking into his jeans. He holds out one hand (palm down, because he’s not an idiot, and he wasn’t about to present his bare wrist to a vampire, no matter how hurt it was), waiting for him to accept it so he could help him stand.
The vampire stares at him for a long moment, eyes flickering from his hand to his face, as though wondering if Yuta was going to turn on him and attack at any second. In his pocket, Yuta feels his phone vibrate angrily, no doubt Ten calling again. Yuta ignores it, trying to hold steady eye contact with the vampire so he knows he means well.
He finally seems to understand Yuta isn’t going to hurt him, because he slides his own hand out from beneath his black coat. His skin is surprisingly not as hauntingly white as Yuta thought it would be, but when he accepts the outstretched hand he almost jumps from how cold the skin is; like touching dry ice, or a frozen metal pole.
Yuta tries to tug him up, and it’s futile. The vampire is an immovable object, and he raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused at Yuta’s struggling despite the situation.
“Don’t laugh,” Yuta half whines, half pants.
The vampire lurches forward on his heels, and in a second he’s standing inches from Yuta’s face, slumping forwards slightly so most of his weight is leaning against the other’s frame. Yuta hooks an arm around his waist to keep him up, and he feels more blood start seeping through his jacket sleeve. He pulls one of the vampire’s arms over his own shoulder, heaving his weight up to rest mostly on his hip. The vampire’s head lolls slightly onto his shoulder, and he tries not to flinch away.
He’s lucky Ten’s apartment is only a few blocks away, but it still feels like miles when he’s dragging a creature that feels like carrying a cinder block. He knows they’re leaving a trail of blood behind them, but he can’t be bothered to care.
When he’s finally struggled up the staircases to the third floor, he’s full out sweating, and the vampire seems barely conscious, gasping like a human would while in their dying throes. Yuta bangs on the front door a little too loudly in his haste.
It’s thrown open after the first knock like Ten was waiting for him, and sure enough he doesn’t look surprised that Yuta has an armful of vampire- more frustrated and very annoyed.
“Quick, bring him in before anyone sees,” Ten whispers, ushering them in and looking around the foyer as though expecting someone to be watching them. He slams the door behind them as Yuta begins laying the vampire on the couch.
“Not on the couch!” Ten shrieks, jumping forward to try and push the vampire right onto the floor. “On the floor, on the floor!”
“Are you serious?” Yuta demands. “He’s dying!”
“Vampires can’t die, and that couch is real leather,” Ten snaps. “I don’t want vampire blood all over it.”
Yuta glares at him but complies, lowering the vampire onto the wood floor. His head lolls to the side, mouth opened just the slightest, and Yuta can’t take his eyes off the long fangs poking out over his bottom lip.
Ten throws a towel at him, kneeling down beside them with wet washcloth in his hand. “Take his shirt off, I’m not doing this myself,” Ten orders. Yuta nods, peeling back the wool coat to tug the shredded shirt off the vampire. His skin is just as cold as before, and Yuta shivers the more he touches it.
Ten starts wiping at the wounds, the washcloth soaking with blood in a matter of minutes. The vampire stutters over a cough, chest heaving once more. They both jump back, surprised, when he opens his eyes, staring at the ceiling.
The wound on his chest pulses visibly, as though it’s taken on a life of it’s own. Blood pumps steadily out of it in waves, spilling over his stomach and leaking onto Ten’s dark wood floors. They both watch, stunned, as the vampire heaves another gasp, greedily sucking in air, and the wound begins to slowly close by itself. Muscle creeps over the gouged, more open parts, skin stretching to cover it all in an orchestrated method, precise and deliberate.
The vampire stops breathing heavily, instead falling completely still, eyes still open in a blank stare. Yuta glances up at Ten, at a loss for what to do next.
“Is he dead?” He whispers. Ten gives him a look that reads, You’re an idiot.
“I told you, vampires can’t die,” Ten replies, sighing. “Unless you rip them limb from limb, they’re pretty much immortal.” He gets to his feet, bloody washcloth in hand, and tsks as he looks at the pool of blood staining his floor. “I’m gonna need so much bleach to clean this shit up.”
He disappears down the hallway, presumably to get more towels. Yuta is left alone with the vampire, who still hasn’t moved. Now that they were in the safety of the apartment, and inevitable death wasn’t in his near future, Yuta has a chance to look at the vampire more closely.
He had been right when noticing outside that the vampire wasn’t pale and chalky- unlike most of the stories he’d heard as a child, this one had radiant, glowing skin that looked like it should be warm to the touch, cheeks tinged just the slightest amount of pink. His hair was dark and his eyes, still wide open, were just as black, almost haunting. Yuta traces the curve of his nose, his jaw, his lips with his eyes, until they fall on the fangs peeking out of the vampires mouth.
The vampire has shown no signs of even being conscious. Yuta glances at the hallway, where Ten hasn’t returned from, before scooting just a little bit closer to the vampire. He reaches out, fingers trembling, and very gently tilts the vampire’s chin towards him.
He isn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but when the vampire’s eyes suddenly flicker towards him, finally shifting his gaze from the ceiling to Yuta’s face, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. Panic leaps into his throat, but the vampire doesn’t look like he’s going to hurt Yuta. Quite the opposite, actually.
Yuta’s fingers are still resting on the vampire’s chin, and it’s almost like he knows what Yuta wants, because after a moment of staring, he very slowly opens his mouth, baring his fangs clearly for Yuta to see.
Yuta’s exhales shakily. The fangs are long and look so, so sharp. The urge to touch them is overpowering, the pearly white shine beckoning him. His fingers curl sharply around the vampire’s chin, with a little more force than he should probably use, but he doubts the vampire even feels it. He uses his thumb to reach out, running the pad of it over the tip of the fang.
The effect is instantaneous, the sharp prick of pain, and when he pulls his hand back, little drops of blood bubble to the surface. The vampire slowly closes his mouth, eyes narrowed in on Yuta’s hand, but otherwise doesn’t move towards him, or move at all.
Footsteps sound, signaling Ten returning. The vampire tilts his head back towards the ceiling, closing his eyes, and by the time the other enters the room, he’s just as still as he was when he first left.
“Help me clean this up,” Ten demands, dropping to his knees and tossing a pile of towels beside Yuta. Yuta nods, wiping off his thumb on one of the towels, and begins helping Ten mop up whatever they could of the blood. The vampire doesn’t move for the rest of the night.
When Yuta wakes up in the morning, the sky is still pale, the sun barely risen. He can hear Ten snoring in his bedroom. He listens for any noise signifying the vampire was awake, or had even moved, but he hears nothing. After a few moments lying in bed trying to be as quiet as possible, he finally gets up only to feed the cat, because he can hear her meowing loudly from the kitchen.
He isn’t expecting, however, to find the vampire perched on the edge of the sofa, Ten’s cat Momo rubbing herself contentedly against his leg. Yuta watches as the vampire just stares at the cat, the frown in his brow only deepening when Momo meows loudly at him and paws at his pants.
Yuta knows he should be startled. Actually, he should be more than that- he should be terrified. But he can’t bring himself to be scared at all. The vampire just looks so normal sitting there, staring rigidly at Momo, a sharp contrast to the warm and homey feel of Ten’s apartment interior.
Yuta takes a step forward into the room from the hallway, and the moment he does, the vampire whips his head around, eyes locking in on Yuta.
For a moment, there’s a tense silence. The vampire looks ready to bolt, although the door is closest to Yuta, and it would mean he’d have to come close to Yuta to leave.
“Hello,” Yuta eventually says, as softly as he can. He presumes the vampire can speak Korean because of his call for help last night, but just to make sure, he follows up with, “You speak Korean, right?”
The vampire nods slowly.
“What’s your name?”
The vampire presses his lips together into a thin line. “Doyoung,” He finally replies. His voice is surprisingly deep and smooth, and for some reason, the hairs on the back of Yuta’s neck stand up at the sound of it.
“I’m Yuta. What part of Korea are you from?” Yuta asks. He slides down to the floor, sitting cross-legged and calling for Momo. She comes trotting over happily, rubbing herself against his sweater and purring loudly. Doyoung stares openly at her, looking a bit confused.
“Rason,” Doyoung answers. He tilts his head to the side, watching the way Momo climbs into Yuta’s lap and begins making herself comfortable, unsheathing her claws so she can massage them into his thigh. Yuta winces.
“Where is that?”
“Eight hundred and fifty seven point two kilometers northeast of Pyongyang,” Doyoung recites mechanically, eyes still on Momo. Yuta looks up quickly, shocked.
“Pyongyang?” He repeats. “You’re from North Korea?”
Doyoung nods. He points at Momo, who’s now curled into a ball in Yuta’s lap. “Why is it sitting on you?”
Yuta looks down, unconsciously petting Momo’s head gently. “What do you mean?”
“Why isn’t it scared?” Doyoung asks. “You’re much larger than it. You could kill it.”
Yuta tries not to look offended. “I wouldn’t kill her. She trusts me.”
Doyoung’s eyes flicker up and meet Yuta’s. Unlike last night, when his eyes were a deep brown color, they now shine with a slight red tint. Yuta wonders if he should take that as a warning sign. “Why?”
“Why does she trust you?”
Yuta just blinks at him. What kind of question was that? “Because I take care of her, and I love her.”
“Why do you take care of her?” Doyoung asks. Yuta huffs impatiently.
“Because I love her. Why does it matter?”
Doyoung looks genuinely confused and tad concerned. “That’s not biologically safe.”
Yuta frowns. The sound of footsteps coming down the hall sounds, and both he and Doyoung turn to see Ten enter the room, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The other doesn’t even seem to notice Doyoung, yawning as he pads across the living room, until suddenly he comes to a dead halt in front of the couch.
He stares at Doyoung. Doyoung stares back at him, looking a bit nervous and like he was ready to bolt again.
“Fuck,” Ten finally says. “I was hoping last night was just a stress dream.” He looks down at the wooden floor, at the dark stain from the blood they couldn’t get out with towels and cleaner. “There’s no way I’m getting my deposit back from the landlord. She’s gonna kill me.”
“It’s Russia, there’s basically no laws here anyway,” Yuta comments. “I’m sure she’s seen blood stains before.”
Ten throws him a glare. “First of all, rude, you xenophobe. Second of all, it’s not your deposit, is it? So, shut up.”
“Me? Xenophobic?” Yuta asks in mock horror. “I’ll have you know there is a North Korean right here in your living room. Show some respect.”
Ten looks between Yuta and Doyoung, brows furrowing together, before making a tsk ing noise and throwing his hands up in the air. “Fuck it, I’m not even gonna ask.” He grumbles, heading into the kitchen.
Momo purrs loudly from Yuta’s lap, stretching her legs and leaping off him so she can stroll towards her real owner.
“Traitor!” Yuta shouts dramatically after her. “I gave you everything!”
He flops over onto his side, sighing heavily. The wooden floor is cold to the touch, and he shivers through his sweats. When he rolls back over to face the couch, he almost jumps out of his skin when he finds Doyoung just a few feet away from him, now kneeling on the floor and watching him curiously.
“Uh,” Yuta clears his throat awkwardly. “Hello.”
Doyoung says nothing, just staring at him. Yuta tries to ignore him in favor of stretching out like Momo does, enjoying the satisfying crack he feels in his lower back. He squeezes his eyes shut and screws up his face as he stretches, and only snaps them open when he feels something on his neck.
It’s Doyoung’s fingers, cold and gentle. The vampire is touching the soft skin just beneath Yuta’s jaw, face blank and expressionless except for the slight furrow in his brow.
Yuta holds still, unsure what was happening. He clears his throat, and Doyoung jumps slightly, as though shocked.
“See something you like?” Yuta asks, jokingly. Doyoung’s frown deepens, and this time he presses his fingers more boldly against Yuta’s neck, the skin dipping just slightly so that Yuta feels a pressure against it. It takes Yuta moment to realize Doyoung was looking for his pulse.
He should be extremely worried. He should freeze in place when he comprehends that Doyoung, a vampire, is touching his neck, looking for a pulse point.
He isn’t. He doesn’t. For some reason, Yuta feels completely relaxed, calm and compliant as Doyoung’s fingers travel along his neck with a firm tenderness. Without thinking about it, Yuta tilts his chin back ever so slightly, giving Doyoung further access to it.
Doyoung’s eyes flash, the red in them glimmering brightly for a split second. Yuta swallows, and he can see the way Doyoung watches the bob of his Adam’s apple with sharp eyes.
Something clangs in the kitchen, and Ten calls Momo’s name and scolds her in Russian. Both Yuta and Doyoung jerk, startled back to reality. Doyoung’s hand falls to his side, and Yuta sits up quickly, face feeling overheated and flushed for reasons unknown.
As the day progresses, Yuta and Ten are left with the complication of figuring out what exactly to do with Doyoung. Or rather, Yuta is left to struggle with it. Ten refuses to have anything to do with the situation, disappearing early in the morning in his dancewear and thick, padded coat with a, “ That thing better be gone by the time I come home! ” shouted behind him.
So, now Yuta finds himself sitting on the guest bed, watching Doyoung wander curiously through the room, occasionally touching things and being followed almost religiously by Momo. The cat had taken a liking to the vampire, and wouldn’t stop following his heels all morning, meowing anytime Doyoung so much as glanced at her. Doyoung still seemed uneasy with her, looking confused every time Yuta tried to show him how to pet her.
Yuta groans, falling back against the pillows helplessly. A quick search on his phone had showed the Ural mountains, where Ten had said most vampires in Russia hideout, were over two days away by train. How Doyoung had even managed to make it to Moscow in the first place was beyond Yuta.
The bed dips a little, and Yuta rolls over to find Doyoung perched on the edge, giving him a worried look.
“Are you okay?” Doyoung asks, voice concerned.
“I don’t know how I’m gonna get you home,” Yuta sighs, rubbing at his eyes with heels of his palms.
“Home,” Doyoung repeats.
“Yeah, home,” Yuta sits up a little too quickly, his vision dotting with spots for a second. “Are you from the Ural mountains? That’s really far and I’m broke as shit, I can’t fly us there and a train takes way too long.”
“Yeah, fly. Like an airplane? Don’t tell me you don’t know what airplanes are.”
Doyoung is quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. “Home is Rason,” He finally says in a soft voice.
Yuta can’t help but snort. “In North Korea? Good luck getting in there.”
Doyoung looks up at him, and Yuta’s heart skips a beat. The vampire looks so sad, eyes wide and shining red, mouth downturned into a small pout. Yuta has to scramble to organize his thoughts, lost in Doyoung’s eyes for a solid minute or so.
“I- uh. Where’s your family? Your mother?”
Doyoung looks down again, twisting his fingers together. “I don’t know.”
Yuta’s heart twists in his chest, and he feels bad for asking. “Well, you must’ve come from somewhere. You weren’t in Moscow your whole life.”
Doyoung’s eyes flicker up to meet his. “Are you from Moscow?”
“No,” Yuta says, laughing. “Are you kidding? It’s cold as shit here. I’m from Seoul. Well, actually, I was born in Osaka, but I live in Seoul.”
Doyoung nods as though he understands what Yuta was rambling about. Yuta’s not even sure the vampire knows where Osaka is.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, Doyoung twisting his fingers together and Yuta lost in thought, still trying to think of a way to get Doyoung safely out of the city without being stopped by police.
“Yuta,” Doyoung suddenly says in a quiet voice.
The bed dips as Momo hops up on it as well. Yuta is still a little behind, thinking about the Ural mountains, and so he nods in response, words flowing out of his mouth without thinking.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I can make you ramen or something. I’m not a good cook but I know how-” Yuta stops abruptly as his brain catches up to the situation at hand. He tears his eyes away from the wall he was staring at while lost in thought, and meets Doyoung’s gaze. Doyoung looks a little guilty, chin tucked down and biting his lip. He looks like a scolded child.
“You’re… hungry,” Yuta repeats.
Doyoung nods. “I can get out of Moscow myself, but I lost a lot of blood last night. I need to feed.”
Yuta tries not to wince at the word feed. Beside him, Momo meows for attention, rubbing her head against Doyoung’s elbow.
“Do you-” Yuta can hear the words coming out of his own mouth, but he doesn’t remember telling his brain to say them. “Do you need… If you want me to, I can… help…?”
Doyoung’s head snaps up, and he searches Yuta’s face, looking doubtful. “Are you sure?”
Yuta nods, still feeling like he was having an out of body experience. “Yeah, I mean… if you’re hungry, you’re hungry. Just, like… don’t take too much?”
Yuta blinks, and he’s suddenly being pressed against the bed, Doyoung looming over him and straddling his lap. It’s almost terrifying how quickly the vampire moved, pinning Yuta down like he weighed nothing despite him being taller than Doyoung. Yuta’s heart stutters, and there’s no way Doyoung doesn’t hear it, if the way his eyes flash red once more is any indication.
“Just relax,” Doyoung whispers, voice coming out much deeper than before. He reaches down, using a firm pressure against Yuta’s jaw to jerk his head to the side so he has clear access of the other’s neck. “It won’t hurt.”
Yuta can't seem to find his voice, so he just swallows, mouth suddenly feeling dry. Doyoung leans down, nose brushing along Yuta's neck, feeling cold and foreign against the thin skin. Yuta shivers, and Doyoung bites down without anymore warning.
It hurts only a little, like getting a papercut. Yuta winces, but Doyoung keeps him in place with one hand holding both his wrists above his head and the other cupping Yuta's jaw so he can't move his head. When Doyoung starts drinking, white noise rushes through Yuta's ears. His whole body tingles, a mix between getting an electric shock when he drags his socks along a carpet and the feeling he gets when he listens to those dumb ASMR videos Taeyong is so fond of.
But underneath that, there's a thrumming, something he's never really felt before, so he can't put a name to it. Euphoria? Ecstasy? Peacefulness?
Whatever it is, it seems to simmer through him, melting away all his worries and causing him to relax completely underneath Doyoung, letting out a breathy sigh. He feels light headed, airy, almost like he was floating out of his own body.
Just like that, it's over, and he's brought back to reality by the feeling of Doyoung licking carefully at his neck. His brain is still a little slow catching up, and for a minute he tries to bare his neck even more, enjoying the silky smooth feeling of the vampire lapping at his skin, but Doyoung pulls away before he can find it in him to protest.
Doyoung looks down at him, concern etched in his face. He looks different- his eyes are a warm brown color, the red gone completely, and his skin has a slight, warm glow to it, like he went outside in the sun for awhile.
Yuta blinks up at him. Everything is coming back into focus, and he suddenly feels very, very sad, and very, very tired. He pouts unconsciously, his brain only functioning enough to scream at him what happened to the nice feeling?!
"Do you have any juice?" Doyoung suddenly asks, voice rich and deep. Yuta has to think about it for a second, confused.
"In the fridge, I think," He replies, and he cringes at how raspy his voice comes out.
Doyoung nods, patting him very gently on the shoulder and climbing off the bed. "Stay here. I'll be right back."
Yuta nods, too, feeling entirely too sleepy to move. Doyoung disappears out of the room, and Yuta stares up at the ceiling.
A vampire just drank my blood, He thinks to himself. Oddly enough, he can't find it in himself to worry too much over it. At the foot of the bed, Momo meows from where she's been seated this entire time, watching Yuta with big, blue eyes.
"Don't judge me," He snaps at her. Momo just stares.