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Sure, Gyuvin is a vampire.
He’s got the teeth, the eyes, the bloodlust. Sure. Whatever.
Truthfully, Gyuvin doesn’t necessarily hate being a vampire, actually enjoys it quite a bit at times. He appreciates the speed and strength, and apparently, eventually, he’ll get even more fun perks! The killing and murder and death is definitely an issue, but he has his ways. It’s just that, aside from the obvious traits, everything about him is categorically not vampire-like. Plump pink cheeks, sunkissed skin, heart warm and full of love — he checks every box in the not-a-monster checklist. Safe to say, Gyuvin’s not super popular within the local vamp scene.
He was turned almost two years ago, by a man he now calls his roommate. Gyuvin can only assume Hao had simply gotten lonely after several decades on his own, and had sunk his fangs at the first kind gesture in years, bloodying a dark alley outside a dingy bar. He was desperate, probably. Hao doesn’t like to talk about it, and Gyuvin made peace with his new reality relatively quickly, so he can handle the mystery.
They’ve got this “us against the world” thing going when it comes to others of their kind. The arrangement suits them both just fine, though Gyuvin can’t help but feel like his maker doesn’t always get him. Hao has vampirical essence practically oozing out of his pores; refined wardrobe, ominous steps through moonlit streets, the whole package. His lips are almost perpetually bloodstained, and he doesn’t understand why Gyuvin avoids their house like the plague whenever he has a meal over. To be fair, Gyuvin doesn’t offer an explanation, just tiptoes off into the night.
So, this is where he’s at: back in the now slightly less dingy bar where he had first met Hao and his life was forever changed. Or stopped. Semantics.
The floors are sticky under his sneakers, and the lights are flashing in blues and reds and purples as an old Boney M. song blasts through the speakers. There are more bodies wriggling around each other than there are drinks strewn about. It must be disco night. Gyuvin moves further into the crowd and bobs his head to the beat.
Generally speaking, he’s not much of a fan of the genre, but he loves the type of people it brings in. Fun. Not afraid to be flamboyant and boisterous, not afraid to sweat through their sparkly crop tops or patterned silk shirts. There’s people singing along and others making a stage out of a square metre, and it’s so invigorating, Gyuvin barely cares about the frenzied heartbeats surrounding him. The energy is infectious, his body loosening up, moving away from shy and stepping into boogie wonderland territory. He may look a little out of place, engulfed in a boring, oversized hoodie, but it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s looking at him.
That illusion almost immediately shatters as a Donna Summer classic fills the bar with synths and Gyuvin turns to meet a pair of calculating eyes bearing down on him. His dancing slows to a halt as he quickly assesses the guy – pale, flawless face, inky black hair, impossibly wrinkle-free black shirt, hands empty, alone, back pressed to the wall – and comes to the pretty glaring conclusion that they have… similar lifestyles. Well, similar needs, at least. Unlike Gyuvin, this vampire looks legit. It’s almost comical how obvious the stranger is.
Something overcomes Gyuvin despite the mini Hao in his head telling him that others like them are not to be trusted, befriended, courted. The man, way too chic for disco night of all things, pulls him in like a magnet. His feet are moving before he can even think any of this through. Gyuvin figures this must be one of the many talents the mesmerizing creature before him possesses.
He’s wrong, of course.
His heartbeat is definitely human and definitely alive. Gyuvin’s pace across the dancefloor slows when he hears it clearly for the first time. It’s a softer sound than most around him, like the brush of a wing on concrete, a dove taking flight. It beats gently, in tandem with the synths. He takes a few more steps and the stranger smirks, devilish, pushes himself off the wall to meet him halfway. What the fuck. Gyuvin can hear, smell, almost taste his humanity, and yet some kind of magic is pulling him closer and closer and this can’t be real. He can’t be real, right?
The marble statue of a man doesn’t even try to hide his pointed gaze rising from Gyuvin’s scuffed shoes to his disheveled hair. His heart’s pace never quickens, but Gyuvin’s is beating in his chest like a jackhammer. Why does he feel like prey? Isn’t he supposed to be the cold-blooded killer here? This is seriously shameful.
If it couldn’t get any worse: “Weren’t planning to go out tonight, were you?” the stranger teases. The shame doubles when his rudeness pulls Gyuvin closer.
“Not really, just needed to let loose a little,” the vampire replies, bashful, before gathering himself up in a meager attempt to protect his ego. “You don’t seem very Abba-ready yourself. What kind of guy wears plain black to disco night?”
“The kind who was tasked with babysitting his drunk friends on their rare night out.” He twitches his chin towards a peach-haired man in a bright red vest and bedazzled bell bottoms moving wildly a few metres away, as well as a stocky guy in an all-too-revealing tank top dancing around the other, hyping him up with hollers and claps. “This isn’t my usual scene.” Ah, makes sense now.
“Totally, me neither...” Gyuvin nervously fidgets with the cuff of his hoodie. “So, uh… you’re the designated driver, then?” he offers, as smoothly as he can manage while the goth son of Venus looks down at him. Sure, he’s technically taller than this guy, but Gyuvin feels quite small at the moment — more akin to a crumb under the other’s immaculately shiny boot than a lanky creature of darkness.
The stranger scoffs. “Hell no, I just pay for the Uber.” His smile has something cocky to it. Gyuvin’s knees go a little weak.
“Oh…” Gyuvin replies dumbly. If Hao were here, he’d be insisting to give him a spontaneous crash course in seduction. At this point, it would be rather appreciated. Still, the vampire soldiers on, “can I buy you a drink, in that case?” after a beat, “I’m Gyuvin, by the way.”
Then, something utterly insane happens. The man’s heart stutters. His smile widens, slightly crooked, and his eyes shimmer. His pupils pick up the glint of the disco ball dangling from the ceiling, but they’d still be shining in complete darkness. Gyuvin is sure of it.
A name floats its way to Gyuvin’s ears, Ricky. Of course it’s Ricky. He’d definitely doodle that name all over a notebook in a crush-induced craze. He just might! He sure is feeling crazy enough!
“Nah, I don’t feel like drinking. Taerae drank for the both of us, anyways.”
“Oh, are you expecting?” Ricky shoots Gyuvin a devastatingly judgmental look. Stupid, stupid fucking joke. What is wrong with him? He needs to die immediately. Where’s a vampire hunter when you need one? “Sorry…”
“You’re not very good at this,” Ricky remarks. There’s a bite to it but his lips are still curled ever so softly, so Gyuvin can’t help but blush. “Wanna dance?”
Without waiting for an answer, Ricky pulls him further into the dance floor, as if he was the suave love interest in those cheesy romcoms Hao’s familiar adores. Sure, Gyuvin watches them with him and kicks his feet from time to time, but he must admit that those are nothing compared to the real deal dancing in front of him.
He can barely move, barely even hear the song blasting from the speakers with Ricky (possible model?) this close to him. This guy is beautiful. The carefully sculpted by the gods, born to be the entire universe’s muse kind of beautiful. He starts to circle around Gyuvin, delicate fingers brushing over his shoulder as he turns, sending waves of electricity down his spine. The vampire’s gaze is in a whirlwind with the effort to focus on every inch of Ricky all at once. He probably looks like a paralyzed idiot, mouth agape and back stiff.
“Are you real?”
“Are you gonna start dancing with me?”
Oh, yeah. That was the plan. Gyuvin flushes and runs a hand through his hair with an embarrassed chuckle, trying desperately to relieve some tension and start acting like a normal, functional person at the very least. Turning up the charm is step two.
He manages to start swaying to the beat (Boney M. again) which earns him an encouraging, slightly sly grin from his dance partner, emboldening him further. In a brief instant of bravery, Gyuvin gently grabs Ricky’s slender hand and twirls him around. Step two is a go. One can only pray for this gorgeous man – probably in very high demand, too – to be easily impressed by this meek little monster’s substandard flirting skills.
For a moment, it seems to actually work. They get more comfortable, inching closer as they move with the music, Ricky draping his arms around Gyuvin’s neck. Disco isn’t particularly romantic, but it sure is raunchy, and it gets the heart pumping and the blood flowing, each cell fighting to surpass the other in a sprint. Gyuvin can ignore the rushing feeling in anybody else on the crowded dancefloor, but being this close to Ricky is admittedly getting quite dizzying. Even so, he wouldn’t dare rip himself away. If he could spend his entire immortal life right here, right now, he would, regardless of the growing pain in the pit of his stomach.
As if on cue, their precious little bubble is broken by the peach-haired friend stumbling over to lean his entire body onto Ricky’s side. “Bedtiiiiiime,” he drawls, ending in a loud drunken cackle.
As he struggles to stay upright, Ricky seems a little less perfect than before, and it’s his turn to blush. If it weren’t improper to coo at a grown adult he barely knows, Gyuvin would be doing just that.
“So, this is Taerae,” he starts as he finally stabilizes the both of them, “he hasn’t gone out in a long while.”
“We offered to accompany him as he finally let loose tonight. Needless to say he definitely took us up on that!” The other friend slides up to the three of them, damp muscle tee clinging to his chest. “Sorry to cut your night short, bro, but you’re the one with Uber money, and I’m spent. Someone needs to princess carry him into his bed,” he addresses Ricky. Instantaneously, the urge to be Taerae overcomes Gyuvin.
Before he can snap out of the fantasy this chipper little dude implanted in his brain, the trio is already walking away. Over the booming song filling the room, Gyuvin faintly hears the sweet voice of an angel calling out to him: “I’ll see you around!”
When he arrives back home, equal parts giddy and disappointed, and recounts the night to his maker, Hao tells him he could have run after them. “Their ride wouldn’t have arrived for a few minutes, he was probably expecting you to find him outside and ask for his number,” he says matter-of-factly.
Oh. Shit.
—
For the subsequent few weeks, that bar became Gyuvin’s main haunt. On disco nights, he’d be there from dusk until the very end of the evening, when the music is cut and the crowd is pushed out. He would pray for Taerae to need a night out again, and to drag his friends with him. He’d even go in the middle of the week, just in case.
Eventually, the desperate little nightcrawler branched out to other, fancier bars. After all, Ricky said he didn’t typically go for places like that, and Gyuvin came to the natural conclusion that it meant he preferred somewhere with non-sticky floors and a more sophisticated playlist. That is, if he even went out for drinks at all.
It was… awkward. Gyuvin is polite and all, but he felt like a true street rat walking into some of those buildings. Once, they didn’t even let him in on account of his criminally casual jeans and sweater combo. Good grief. He hoped Ricky didn’t like that kind of spot either.
Tonight, he’s not feeling any luckier than before. Truthfully, he’s coming close to giving up altogether. He may have all the time in the world — the main perk of this whole immortality thing — but Gyuvin’s never been a very patient person, and it’s been ages. At this point, it’d be more realistic to conclude that the impossibly, superhumanly ravishing specimen he met that fateful night was nothing but a figment of his imagination.
Still, one more try couldn’t hurt, right?
The vampire makes his way to Bisou Bisou Cocktail Bar a couple hours after sundown. French names tend to translate to an expensive menu, and the reviews online deemed it “tasteful yet cozy”. It’s a bit further downtown than the others he’s tried, which might just do the trick. He doesn’t really know Ricky in the slightest, but if he’d pick any place for a drink, Gyuvin’s betting this one would be a strong contender.
And, lo and behold, he’s not completely delusional after all. As soon as Gyuvin opens the door, the feather-soft pulse he’d been aching to hear reaches his ears, and he’s able to pinpoint the source within seconds.
Practically vibrating with anticipation, Gyuvin makes a beeline for a booth in the back, only to find hunched shoulders adorned in black silk and a mussed head of hair hanging — as if he fell asleep sitting. There are a concerning amount of empty glasses on the table. Oh boy.
“Ricky?” Gyuvin carefully taps his arm, and the man startles in slow motion. When he raises his head, finally revealing his face, it’s enough to make a bloodthirsty monster cry.
His eyes are bloodshot and his brow tense. His lips are downturned, an almost cartoonish pout, and, worst of all, his cheeks are crimson. Comparing this version of Ricky to the brazen, square-shouldered one he first met gives the vampire whiplash. When his focus falls on Gyuvin, his pout is replaced with a large “O” shape.
“Qubing??” he slurs.
“Are you alright? What are you doing here by yourself?”
“Mmm… Stood up… Assface… M’gonna delete Hinge…” Ricky’s head lolls a bit more with every word until his forehead rests on the table. This isn’t good.
Gyuvin speeds over to the bartender and asks for a pint of water, placing it on the table as he sits opposite Ricky. “Drink,” he commands, more forceful than he meant to be. It sounded like he was asking a puppy to sit.
When Gyuvin realizes the other can barely hold the glass up, he takes the initiative, raising it to Ricky’s mouth himself. He sips it slowly, cupping his hands over the vampire’s like a baby. Gyuvin tries his best not to lose his mind.
Halfway through, the human finally starts to look a little sharper. He pulls the cup away from Gyuvin to hold it on his own, and Gyuvin hopes the disappointment isn’t clear on his face.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Uhm, better… Nauseous. I never actually puke but, yeah.” He avoids looking directly at the other, embarrassment kicking in alongside sobriety. Well, calling it sobriety is generous. Still very drunk, just not nearing unconscious.
They sit there silently for a little while. It’s not super appropriate to flirt while you’re nursing a near-complete stranger back to health.
Gyuvin isn’t one to keep quiet for very long, though. “Whoever it was, they’re an idiot. You’re a real catch, dude.”
Ricky answers with a snort before gulping down the last of his water. He tries to stand up, but stumbles. Gyuvin shoots out of his seat to support him with an arm around his waist. God, this is torture. Blissful, a dream come true, but torture nonetheless.
“Let me call you a taxi,” he offers, to which Ricky accepts with a slow blink and a nod.
He orders it while leading the human outside. Super strength is a real gift at the moment, he’d practically be toppling over with how heavily Ricky is leaning on him. Every point of contact burns. It’s like his own personal heaven and hell coalesced.
Cool autumn air helps to further invigorate the woeful, wobbly angel using him as an anchor while they wait for his ride to arrive. When it gets there, Ricky manages to stand on his own and turns to his saviour.
“I don’t know why you’re here, but thank you. If you– uh… Yeah. Thank you.”
He opens the car door, and the air between them suddenly grows strained. If Gyuvin were any less sane, he’d offer to accompany Ricky to make sure he gets home safely. It feels like a step too far, though, and he isn’t even sure safety would be his main motive. If anything, it’s safer to leave him alone.
So he just stands there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, watching Ricky clumsily climb into the taxi. Before shutting the door, he stares up at Gyuvin with giant, sparkly eyes. “Nice seeing you again, Qubing.”
Gyuvin flushes. “Bye bye!” he squeaks out, and then the car drives off.
He realizes as he makes his way back home that, once again, he forgot to ask for any way to contact Ricky. This time around, however, he doesn’t seem to be as troubled by the fact. If tonight was the last time he’d ever see the man, at least he got to see him more than once. And, according to Ricky, that was nice. Gyuvin considers it more like a priceless gift from the stars rather than simply nice, but the sentiment makes his heart swell all the same. It’s enough, really. He can spend the rest of eternity imagining scenarios, if that’s how this ends.
The next couple weeks go by slowly. Gyuvin’s nights are admittedly a bit boring without the drunken party spirit he’d been surrounded by for months. It’s not that he likes partying — he barely ever drank back when he was mortal — but the pace was set within him, in a way. He hates to say it, he misses disco.
He finally gives in to the urge a few nights later, when Hanbin arrives home with an unsuspecting victim for his master. It’s a mystery how he convinced them to step into a random person’s townhouse, and he doesn’t want to know. Gyuvin evades the scene as usual, actually dressed properly for the occasion this time around. At least, better than a hoodie. Might as well lean into the whole affair.
It’s less packed than usual when he gets there, which turns out to be another gift from the stars when he almost instantly notices Taerae at the bar counter. It takes Gyuvin a second to fully register that it’s him, hair now dyed a dark brown and outfit significantly toned down, but it is him. Ricky’s friend, in the flesh. The desire he’d been suppressing boils over and spills all over his guts.
Forget disco, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity handed to him on a silver platter. He walks over, determined.
“Taerae! Hi!” Gyuvin shouts over the music.
“Oh!” he lights up, “You!”
“It’s Gyuvin,” the vampire falters, fiddling with his pointy claws.
“Gyuvin! I vaguely remember you… I was a bit too wasted to remember the details, sorry about that,” Taerae offers a toothy grin and a nervous laugh.
“You’re, uh– you’re here alone?” he asks. This is getting awkward.
“Oh, Matthew’s in the bathroom.”
“Matthew..?”
“You know, beefy little guy, sunshine smile. You met him that night, too.”
“Never got his name.”
The conversation goes dry. Oh god. How does he ask someone who barely remembers him for their friend’s number without seeming demented? Ricky isn’t here, that much is clear, so he needs to get creative. Does he beg? Bribe him? Should he just give up while he’s ahead?
The answer comes in the form of the aforementioned beefy little guy joining them with an arm slung around Taerae’s shoulders. He notices Gyuvin and jumps up in excitement. “Yooo, you’re Ricky’s guy! I heard about your heroism the other day, thanks for helping him get home in one piece,” Matthew says with a chuckle.
Ricky’s guy. The words flood Gyuvin’s brain, liquefy it, and maybe that’s why everything pours out of his throat so suddenly.
“I need to ask Ricky out. I need his number. I need to call him. Please help me. Please, you’re my only hope!”
The two friends stare at each other in a silent exchange, both smiles growing mischievously wide before pulling Gyuvin outside.
“He’s at home, probably watching a show or something, so he should answer,” Taerae explains as he hands his phone over to Gyuvin, screen displaying Ricky’s contact information. The picture paired with it is ethereal, a coy quirk of the lip, squinting under sunlight, making the vampire tremble.
This is really happening. Ricky is within reach and absolutely perfect and his friends support Gyuvin’s pursuit. He presses the call button and it rings in his ear while Matthew and Taerae stare at him expectantly.
Ricky picks up. “Are you two drunk already?!”
“Oh, um, hi. It’s Gyuvin.”
“Huh?”
“Taerae handed me his phone…”
“Okayyy..?”
Shit, this is hard. Matthew spurs him on with enthusiastic hand movements.
“I– Well, I wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date. With me.”
It’s quiet for a painfully long second before Ricky replies, “I’d like that, yeah.”
Gyuvin wills himself not to shoot into the sky and burst like a firework. “Okay, cool, great–”
“On one condition, though,” Ricky cuts into the vampire’s poor attempt at nonchalance.
“Yes?”
“I get to organize everything. I can be a bit… picky. Hope that’s okay.”
“Anything you like, I’ll like.” The two friends silently commend him for that line with four thumbs up.
“Cool… Uhm, so Taerae can give you my number. Text me?”
“Yes! Yep! I’ll do that!”
Gyuvin hears a muffled giggle from the speaker before Ricky hangs up, echoing in his mind and turning his legs to jelly.
—
The fated first date is finally here.
They had scheduled it the night Gyuvin got Ricky’s number, a week ago now, with no further details discussed. They opted for frivolous messages, flirty jokes and silly animal pictures shared daily. Ricky is a lot less cool through text. Much, much cooler than Gyuvin, for sure, but he had to lose a few points after the sixth cat meme in a row.
Ricky didn’t even send the address they were meeting at until the day of. Gyuvin had been freaking out a little from the total lack of information, even debated asking if the date was still on, but he decided not to. He trusted Ricky, agreed to put this night in his hands, and that trust was not going to falter. Gyuvin said he’d like anything Ricky chooses, and he’s always been a man of his word.
He regrets it right about now.
Gyuvin stands at the entrance of a very fancy restaurant, dark stained wood and crystal chandeliers and… food. Human food. Human food he cannot eat, not unless he has a death wish. And maybe, at this very moment, he does!
He sees Ricky through the window, sitting pretty in a corner booth, checking his face in a pocket mirror. He looks like the most expensive thing in the whole room, a swan in a lake of tadpoles, yet he fixes every strand of perfect hair as if he had a horrible case of bedhead. Gyuvin’s chest aches, a deep dark hole of despair settling behind his ribs.
He’s going to ruin this date. There's no other way around it, really. He’s going to shatter Ricky’s hopes of a classy candlelit dinner, no matter what he does.
Considering past events, leaving him to sit and brood in his loneliness is unfathomable. He’s going to have to ruin it by stepping inside.
Ricky beams when he spots Gyuvin heading his way. A sharp twist of the knife buried in the vampire’s heart.
“Hi,” he breathes out.
Gyuvin puts every effort into not revealing just how miserable he is about how this night is bound to go, mustering up his most convincing smile. “Hi,” he replies, “you look amazing.” At least that much is true.
“Right back at you. You clean up nice.” Ricky pairs the statement with a once-over and a curled lip. The nervous, fidgety person Gyuvin saw through the window seems to have evaporated into thin air.
He’s already got a cocktail in front of him, some kind of pinkish liquid with a layer of maraschino cherries at the bottom. Gyuvin is about to point it out when Ricky beats him to it. “No alcohol this time, I promise, just a ton of sugar,” he chuckles. So cute. Another twist of the knife.
They make small talk, Gyuvin narrowly avoiding having to tell Ricky how his day went (he just got up), and read through the menu. Gyuvin pretends he’s enamoured with every single cut of steak available until the waitress arrives.
She seems lovely, ponytail bouncing as she explains today’s special menu in a perky tone, but it’s not enough to distract Gyuvin from the anxiety overtaking him. This is it. Barely ten minutes in and it’s all toppling over.
“Have you made your decision, sir?” she asks Ricky first.
Ricky orders with ease, like he’s been here before, while Gyuvin starts to go into panic mode. If he could sweat, he’d be a puddle soaking into the foam of his cushioned seat by now.
She turns to Gyuvin and now two pairs of eyes are peering into his damned soul, expecting an answer he can’t give.
Asking for more time would just be delaying the inevitable, and Gyuvin would rather rip the bandaid off right away instead of letting his dread rot and expand. His hands curl into fists, claws digging into the tenderness of his palm. Drawing blood might distract him from the horror scene unfolding around him.
“I won’t be having anything, thank you.”
The waitress blinks. She probably hasn’t heard that one before. She opens her mouth as if to say something, likely some variation of “are you sure?” before snapping it shut and blinking once again.
She sends Ricky the tiniest smile and leaves.
Gyuvin can’t look up. The napkin swan is all of a sudden the most fascinating thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
“Is something wrong?” Ricky asks, kind and thoughtful to a fault.
When Gyuvin, petrified, can’t seem to answer, Ricky speaks again, even softer this time. “Gyuvin, did something happen? Are you okay?”
He brings a slender hand to rest on Gyuvin’s wrist, a sweet display of worry monsters like him are wholly undeserving of receiving. It stings. It actually physically hurts to know and feel the human’s kindness in a moment like this, so he shakes it off. Gyuvin’s heart is in his throat, the black hole of despair threatening to swallow him whole. He’s ruining it. He’s ruining all of it.
Ricky recoils, grabbing his glass instead. He takes a long sip and then a long breath. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind, just tell me instead of sitting there like a guilty puppy. I can take it.”
The vampire’s head shoots up in alarm. “No! No, I– It’s–”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It can’t end like this. Ricky is staring at him, waiting for him to do something, say something. This is not the time to get tongue-tied. The ball is in Gyuvin’s court, and it’s on fire, and he’s fumbling it big time.
His eyes anxiously flick over to Ricky. He smacks his hands flat on the table to break some of the tension, or to be loud and stupidly obvious that he is absolutely not okay right now. Gyuvin suppresses a wince and barrels on before his brain can stop him. “I need to tell you something.”
Ricky barely reacts, face contorted in apprehension, solidified like cement. He holds his drink a bit closer to his chest, a shield of sorts, and watches Gyuvin silently fall to pieces for a few painful seconds. “Well? What is it? Why are you being so weird?” Ricky finally says.
“I– Well, basically, I’m–“ the words get stuck in his throat. Is he really doing this? What if Ricky gets scared and runs away and blocks Gyuvin’s phone number? What if he’s secretly a vampire killer and he’s been tracking Gyuvin down and this poor little monster is about to get a stake through his heart? Is this the end of the line for the worst creature of the night there ever was?
“Ohhh my god, Gyuvin! Spit it out or I’m leaving.”
Quickly, almost reflexively, he complies. “I’m a vampire. But don’t worry–“
Gyuvin is cut off by an abrupt guffaw of laughter that lasts way too long, Ricky clutching his stomach and losing his breath with pure amusement. People are starting to look over to their booth, Gyuvin can practically feel the eyes burn into the back of his skull. Nevermind, actually. He’d rather get staked a million times than face utter humiliation like this.
Ricky wipes at the tears in the corner of his eyes and tries to calm down before his gaze lands on the vampire’s burning blush, coating his face in red. Another frenzy erupts, and now it’s just getting a bit mean.
“I’m sorry, there’s no way you really thought that would work,” he manages to say between wheezes, “Just look at you!”
“No, Ricky, I swear. I drink blood and everything,” he retorts in a hushed, panicked voice. “This place is gorgeous and you have great taste and I’d be eating a four course meal if I could, I swear to you, but I seriously can’t.”
Finally settled and quiet, Ricky stares at him through narrowed eyes as an unimpressed smirk creeps onto his face. Oh god, Gyuvin is fucking everything up, even more than before. His blush blooms darker, and his mind goes into overdrive trying to find a remedy for what probably sounded like the least believable excuse ever uttered. Haha, just joking, I’m actually vegan; I can prove it to you, I’ll turn into a bat in front of this entire restaurant; I’m allergic to literally everything on the menu; I’ll wait until sunrise at your doorstep if you need to see me burn; Happy extremely late April fool’s, I got you good!
What escapes him instead is a choked sound, like drowning on air, quickly followed by Ricky hiccuping one last laugh. “Gotta respect the originality, I’ve never heard that one before.” He’s trying to be funny, or sassy, but it just comes out hurt, and it’s the biggest, deepest twist of the knife, leaving Gyuvin’s heart mangled and bleeding.
“I want to be here with you, Ricky, more than anything. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not lying.” He hopes the urge to get on his knees and beg can be heard in his tone.
Gyuvin doesn’t think the other notices, but Ricky’s ears turn the slightest shade of pink. His pupils dilate, and his pulse sounds a tad louder for a second or two. “... You pay, and I’m getting extra dessert.”
“Of course, get anything you want.”
Thus, the rest of the evening goes like this: the human eats his filet mignon in silence, and the vampire tries not to stare too much. He downs the rest of his way-too-sweet mocktail and calls for the waitress, orders a strawberry mousse, tiramisu cake, candied fruit, and a cup of green tea. They wait. When the silence starts to feel pointless, the human talks about the weather, then university, and the vampire gawks and nods and replies with unbridled enthusiasm. Once the desserts are placed on the table, conversation runs smoothly once again. Each bite seems to soothe him, and delight slowly envelops his gaze. The vampire eagerly pays an absurd sum of money before they walk out into the cool darkness together, abandoning the sugarcoated clementines the human wasn’t too fond of and a half-eaten plate of tiramisu.
Gyuvin is still internally spiralling as they meander aimlessly down the boulevard. Sure, the quiet is now relatively comfortable, and Ricky is still beside him, but Gyuvin definitely fumbled. There’s no recovering from all that. He tries coming to terms with the fact that Ricky thinks he’s ridiculous, and a liar, and a cash cow for a fancy meal, and will for sure block his number tonight, and–
“Uh, this is my building… If you wanna come in…”
The “yes, absolutely I do” is punched out of him before he can even register that his lips are moving. So the walk wasn’t aimless, and his date chose a restaurant that is very, very close to where he lives, and maybe the universe decided to spare him for today. He’ll figure out who to pray to tomorrow.
Ricky’s one bedroom apartment is — quite surprisingly — a mess. He’s not a slob or anything, the place looks clean, but it’s chock-full of stuff: knick knacks, clothes, unfinished paintings, products Gyuvin doesn’t even know the use for, and more, all packed into 400 square feet. It’s all cute and pretty, pastels on a canvas, juxtaposed with a charcoal sofa and the man dressed entirely in black sitting on it. The contrast is objectively hilarious, so Gyuvin does the only thing that comes naturally to him at that moment and lets a laugh bubble up from his throat.
“What’s so funny?” Ricky leers from his seat. He still looks so cool, even as a chococat throw pillow digs into his side. It’s not fair.
The sofa dips under Gyuvin’s weight as he tries to contain his amusement and stop ogling the guy. “Nothing, it’s just– every time I see you, I discover something new. Who would’ve thought Mister Charisma would have a collection of calico critters on a shelf in his living room?”
The chococat pillow hits him square in the face. “Fuck off, Mister Dracula.”
Oh, yeah. Gyuvin had almost forgotten about his embarrassing confession until then. Now, faced with Ricky’s playful scowl, he finds himself spiraling once more. He doesn’t know how to keep the conversation going, scrambling for a subject change and coming up empty-handed. The silence rings in his ears. Ricky fiddles with his rings.
“About that… Why didn’t you want to eat earlier, really? You didn’t like the place? Are you feeling nauseous or something?”
Oh boy, here we go again. “I already told you, dude.”
“No, I mean, like, seriously.”
There’s an excruciatingly awkward pause before the vampire’s reply. “Yeah. Seriously.”
Ricky stares back blankly, blinks once, twice, then pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
“I’d really appreciate honesty right now, Gyuvin. This joke is starting to get old.”
“I am being honest! I was turned a couple years ago, and I’m still not used to the… well, most of it. I know I don’t look like it, I know, but if I had so much as a bite of food back there, my intestines would be practically exploding by now. Or liquefying, I don't know. I don’t wanna find out.”
Ricky considers Gyuvin’s words for a moment. He obviously doesn’t believe it. He’s probably thinking of a polite way to kick this freak out of his apartment, and Gyuvin can’t blame him. Hell, he’s about to see himself out, walking back home with his tail between his legs. He knew it was futile to believe he’d ever be able to have a normal human relationship, let alone with the most gorgeous person he’s ever laid eyes on. A poor attempt at sweet, old-fashioned love. Gyuvin wants to crawl into his coffin and wither away.
“I’m sorry for all this, Ri–”
“Why don’t you prove it, then?”
Gyuvin, who was preparing to peel himself off the sofa and bolt out the door in shame, instead turns to observe the man of his dreams as he cranes his neck, tilts his head to the side to expose way too much skin. His tattoo hugs the line indented by muscle, and his collarbone just barely juts out from where he’s tugging at his perfectly pressed dress shirt. Gyuvin sees stars. Ricky smells like the last bite of strawberry mousse he savoured, and his breath hitches when the vampire gasps. It shakes the tendons at his jaw. Gyuvin’s stomach flips.
He’s offering himself up like a lamb to the slaughter, and yet he stares back with the eyes of a panther. This makes no sense. Gyuvin has to be hallucinating.
He shoots out of his seat when the thirst is too much, and reaches for his bag, rumpled near his feet.
“I– I really have to go. I’m sorry, I’ll call you. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t have the courage to look back as he marches toward the entrance. Man, he deserves a medal for most fuck ups in one date. This has to be the end, and he has to make peace with the fact that he’s destroyed any chance with Ricky.
“What, not even a kiss good night?” is the last thing he hears before shutting the door and dashing out the building.
It’s a twisted stroke of luck when Gyuvin arrives home to Hao and Hanbin on their own couch, bloody teeth bared in a giggle as he bandages his familiar’s neck. It looks so easy for them, so casual, as if draining your lover was the same as a peck to the cheek. On any other night, his face wouldn’t contort into a frown at the scene, but right now of all moments is pure cruelty.
He fights against the urge to speed past them and lock himself in his coffin for a thousand years. His maker was going to wake him up and ask how the date went no matter what, might as well get it over with as soon as possible.
“I told him,” Gyuvin abruptly interrupts the sickeningly sweet moment unfolding in front of him. Hao responds with a loud yelp.
They both turn to him wearing hopeful smiles which fall as soon as they register Gyuvin’s puffy eyes and sagging shoulders. In an instant, Hanbin dizzily shoots up and wraps him into a tight hug, though it could just be because he couldn’t stand on his own for much more than a second. Either way, it’s appreciated.
Hao speaks first, voice gooey with pity. “My poor baby,” he says, softly taking hold of Gyuvin’s hand. “He didn’t take it well?”
If said ‘poor baby’ were feeling any better, he’d be offended by his maker’s tone, but he has to admit it does feel nice to be coddled right about now. “No, he didn’t even believe me! He took me to a restaurant which, like, of course he would. That’s the most classic date idea ever! I should have known, but I’m stupid and an idiot and now he thinks I’m deranged. I’m sure of it!”
Hao startles slightly, “You told him in the restaurant? Did anyone else hear you?”
“No, nobody did, but they definitely heard Ricky laughing at me for five minutes straight…”
Gyuvin details the rest of his night to a very invested audience as they stroke his hair and squeeze him tight, and by the end of it neither are convinced it’s really over for their troubled friend. After the third pep talk from Hanbin, Gyuvin starts to think the same. At least, he really wishes for it to be true.
He chooses to ruminate instead of resting, spending hours drafting a text to Ricky from the comfort of his coffin, until he’s surprised by a strident ringtone and “ricky!!!!!! :D <333” flashing across his screen.
Fuck.
There’s no other option in Gyuvin’s mind except answering the call, no matter how disastrous it’s probably going to be, so he presses the scary green button with a shaky finger.
“Hello?” he says hoarsely.
Voice tinny through the phone, Ricky sounds suspiciously cheerful, “My last class got cancelled! D’you wanna hang out right now?”
“I– what?”
“I suddenly have a completely open Friday, I don’t wanna spend it bored and alone… I’m almost back at my place, do you need the address? Like, if you wanna come over, or something…”
What the fuck. Shouldn’t Gyuvin be begging for a second chance? Isn’t that the way this should go? That’s what the overthought text message was for, after all. Gyuvin mentally prays for the day Ricky doesn’t make him completely lose his balance.
Before saying anything, he checks the time — 3:47 pm — and makes a tiny sound of defeat. “I can’t right now, I’m sorry…”
Then, he hears a meek, heartbreaking “oh…” from the speaker. Gyuvin is a weak, pliable man.
“I mean, I can once the sun goes down, and I’d really like to, uh, hang out and stuff, but you know… vampire… that whole deal…”
Ricky laughs, “I respect your dedication to the bit. I guess I’ll get some homework done in the meantime. See you at sundown.”
They hang up and Gyuvin stirs in his coffin. Well, calling his nature a ‘bit’ is significantly better than deeming him a crazy creep. Ricky is so accommodating, so nice about what is probably a clear sign of delusion from his point of view. What an angel! No sense of self-preservation, but he’s utterly perfect regardless.
Gyuvin cycles though daydreaming and panicking for a couple more hours before getting ready. Luckily, days have gotten very short, so he’s out the door by early evening. Autumn and winter might become his new favourite seasons at this rate.
He gets there within five minutes. He rings the doorbell assigned to apartment 401, another detail from last night burned into his memory, and Ricky buzzes him in.
Ricky is wearing a paint-splotched apron when he meets Gyuvin at his front door. For some reason, he’s still dressed to the nines underneath it, sporting an adorable smile to add even more contrast.
“You got here earlier than I thought you would… Do you wanna paint with me? I’m working on something for class, and I’m kinda in the zone now…”
It’s a bit unorthodox, but Gyuvin would sooner turn to dust than refuse any opportunity to be around Ricky. It’s already surreal that he’s invited him back so soon after a catastrophic first date. He’ll take anything he can get, even if it means revealing his atrocious artistic abilities, so he eagerly accepts.
The artist sets up a small, pre-prepped canvas with a wide array of paints and brushes on his tiny dinner table, then brings Gyuvin a spare apron. It’s a bit infantilizing, like he’s preparing an activity for a kid he nannies, but the enthusiasm in his movements and explanations of all the supplies is way too endearing to mind.
Ricky’s project, on the other hand, is large and halfway done, sitting on an easel a metre away. It’s abstract and textured, richer in colour than the ones Gyuvin noticed last night. He can already tell it’s a masterpiece in the making. The thought should intimidate him, but it does the opposite — it’ll be impossible to impress Ricky with his subpar skills, so he might as well just have fun with it.
They start in silence before Ricky speaks up, “I ordered food, it should get here soon. I still don’t know what you like, so I just got fried chicken. Seemed like a safe bet… Are you good with that?”
Not this again. Is it a trick question? An attempt to catch Gyuvin in a lie? “I, um… I can’t eat regular food, Ricky…”
“Oh.. Right…”
The quiet grows awkward after that. If that was indeed a test, it seems he failed. And Gyuvin has no idea what to paint. He starts aimlessly swirling some blue onto the canvas. He keeps at it for several minutes.
“I guess I’m curious… What’s this whole vampire thing about?”
“I just– I am one. I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s not a thing, it’s just what I am.”
Ricky steals a glance at him and barely hides a teasing grin. “If that’s true, then where are your fangs?”
Gyuvin’s cheeks bloom a shameful red. “They’re small, but they’re there. And sharp,” he retorts in a wavering voice, ruining any attempt of a threat.
At that, Ricky lays his paintbrush down and steps into Gyuvin’s bubble, crouching down so they’re eye to eye. “Show me,” he commands, and, of course, Gyuvin does so without a second thought.
He assesses the vampire’s teeth for maybe two seconds before snickering. “I’ve got friends with more convincing canines,” he stands back up, “and I don’t think vampires blush, either.”
Gyuvin takes a deep breath, closer to a sigh, and switches to purple. “You can think what you want, I’m not lying. I’ve only been this way for two years, and it takes decades for a vampire to grow into what everyone assumes we’re all like, sometimes even centuries! We were humans once, just as different from one to the other. You’re making a huge generalization, you know.”
“Hm,” Ricky hums before turning back to his canvas. That’s it?
Gyuvin doesn’t mean to get annoyed, but nobody enjoys not being believed, or being dismissed and ridiculed, for that matter. He can’t help but come to his own defence. “Also, like, my fangs are fine. And I’ve still got blood, but it’s… vampire blood. I can blush just the same as before. You don’t know anything.”
Ricky lifts a hand to his chin to ponder, leaving a trace of emerald paint there. If the artist wasn’t being so frustrating, Gyuvin would call it endearing. He’d maybe even be brave enough to go up to him and wipe it off with a flirty quip. Alas, this feels more like an interrogation than a date, so he stays put and slathers some more paint on his canvas to distract himself from the tug at his gut.
“… So it’s a fetish, or something, right? I mean, no judgment here, I find them just as hot as the next guy–”
“No!!! Not a fetish!!! God, Ricky, can you at least try to consider it?! Look at my hands, these are not human!” He drops the paintbrush and extends his long arms up high to show off the thick talons his nails have become.
“That’s a stiletto manicure, Gyuvin. Your nail tech did a great job, though, I’ll admit that,” Ricky jeers.
He didn’t think he could get so enraged over something this stupid, but he finds himself teetering off the edge. It’s too much. Gyuvin retreats into himself and grips the table corner until his knuckle goes white. It gives in to his strength, polished wood splintering off and clattering to the floor. Shit.
This whole situation is quickly becoming way too close for comfort. Gyuvin hasn’t felt this volatile since, well, ever. He needs to get far away from Ricky, his provoking banter and the alluring veins decorating his forearms. He can’t bear the gnawing feeling in his stomach for much longer.
But the human saw the impossible display of force, and whatever was so funny before doesn’t seem to be anymore. He subconsciously backs away from the table, face slack from shock. “Whoa…”
Before Ricky gets a chance to say anything else, Gyuvin is out the door, painting unfinished and mess irreversible.
He mentally beats himself to a pulp the moment he’s far enough to regain some sense, then texts Ricky to say he’s sorry and he owes him a new table.
If it wasn’t all fucked before, it sure is now.
—
Somehow, Ricky keeps surprising Gyuvin.
After lamenting and rotting in his room for a few days, feeling sorry for himself and purchasing the most expensive tiny dinner table he can find, he receives a text asking him to come over.
Along with the request is an apology, stating he shouldn’t have instigated Gyuvin and he wants to talk it out. As if he was the one at fault for being in the presence of a dangerous predator, minutes away from doing something irredeemable.
He has to be crazy. There’s no other reason he’d keep letting Gyuvin be around him at this point.
Obviously, the vampire agrees immediately.
There’s one issue though: he hasn’t eaten in days. Gyuvin is starving, and there’s no way he’d allow himself to get anywhere near Ricky in this state.
Here’s the thing. Gyuvin hasn’t outright told anybody, on account of how undignified it is, but he doesn’t drink human blood. At least, he hasn’t since the first couple weeks of being turned, when he’d still hunt with Hao. You can’t really control yourself at the very beginning, there’s no way to avoid that. Gyuvin tries his best not to think of those times.
He feels horrible every time he kills a squirrel or a raccoon — even a stray cat when he’s desperate — but it’s a necessary evil to prevent himself from committing an act so vile, so inhuman he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
At this point, he can’t say he misses it. Animal blood isn’t tasty, or that satisfying, but it keeps him alive, and keeps his conscience relatively clear. He isn’t human anymore, he knows that, but there are some things he can’t bring himself to do no matter what his hunger tells him.
It’s harder with Ricky. Everything seems to be harder with Ricky. As much as he wants to ignore the feeling the way he does with everyone else, Gyuvin can’t.
It’s not just a crush. It’s a craving.
So, he needs to eat. Gorge himself on as much animal blood as possible so that the risks are diminished.
Once he’s sufficiently full, he arrives at Ricky’s place. Instead of buzzing him in, the human meets him at the front entrance. “I thought we could go for a walk,” he says, his stare a bit more anxious, hands a bit more twitchy than his usual confident facade.
They go side by side, a safe distance between them, steps falling onto the pavement in perfect synchrony. Eventually, they turn to a quiet street and find themselves at a small city park, decorated with barren trees, dead leaves, and empty benches.
Ricky sits, Gyuvin following. The street lamp illuminating them in a sickly yellow light flickers.
Gyuvin doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t think it’s his place, so he holds himself back from spewing some random nonsense to fill the space.
A couple minutes of staring at his feet, and then Ricky sighs. “So, you broke my table.”
“You should be getting a new one in the mail soon. I sent it to your address.”
“That’s not my point. You were capable of breaking my table. With one hand. You barely even moved.”
Gyuvin looks up momentarily to see Ricky’s face. His eyes are searching for an answer, scanning the vampire up and down and up and down. The light flickers again.
“You weren’t making any of it up, were you?” he asks weakly, hushed, as if they were in a crowded room holding megaphones to their mouths. As if it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to know. That’s technically true, but, again, Gyuvin wasn’t a very good vamp to begin with. He broke a few rules just by existing.
“I could never lie to you, Ricky. I couldn’t even go one date without spilling everything.”
Ricky looks back down at his perfectly polished shoes. His heart stutters only once. After a few steady beats, he stares back up at Gyuvin, and there’s a hint of something in his eyes the vampire can’t quite place. “What do you want from me?”
Gyuvin can’t help himself from laughing despite the severity with which the other asks him. “I just want to take you out, I’ve never expected anything more.”
The stiffness in Ricky’s posture dissipates bit by bit, and he replies with a shy, crooked smile.
Then, the lamp flickers once more and dies. Gyuvin jerks at the sudden darkness, but Ricky just… stares. He inches closer, barely noticeable at first, but now his lips are slightly parted and the ghost of his breath caresses Gyuvin’s neck.
I’m not hungry. I’m not hungry. I’m not hungry.
Gyuvin moves back, and Ricky only smiles. He turns to look out into the murky shadow of a park and further relaxes in his seat. “Two years, you said… how old does that make you?”
Gyuvin clears his throat, “Um, just twenty two.”
“What month?”
“Mmm… birthday in August, bitten in October. I was twenty.”
Ricky giggles, and Gyuvin makes a questioning sound. “I’m older than you,” he laughs a bit louder, throwing his head back, “I was born in May. Older than a vampire, that’s too good!”
Things feel light after that. Gyuvin walks on puffy white clouds as he follows Ricky back to his building, cracking jokes and reveling in his trust. It feels so good to know that Ricky isn’t running for the hills, not for now. He’ll take every second and cradle it carefully in his hands. A frail flower, a crumbling gem, the most precious treasure he’s ever known.
In a way, that’s exactly what this is. It’s fragile, precarious, a big risk they’re both choosing to take at this very moment, but they chose it. Gyuvin needs to lock himself in an invisible cage, and Ricky should prioritize protection, but it’s working for now. For now. Now is all he’s willing to ask for.
Ricky invites him inside and gives him a brief tour of his apartment. He hands back the painting, states that with a few more hours of work it could be a “purple Starry Night,” as he calls it. He reassures Gyuvin when he sees the table, sticking out like a sore thumb.
After another hour of talking and laughing and watching Ricky sip his tea, they part ways with a lingering hug.
Gyuvin can finally rest his reeling mind, at least a little. Things are okay. Ricky is insane enough to want him around, and he will never do anything to shatter that. He’ll forsake every want and need if it means he can bask in his impossible beauty for a short while longer.
When the package arrives, Ricky invites him over to assemble the table. In his words, “You break it, you fix it.” It’s sound logic, Gyuvin was going to insist anyway.
He snacks on a bowl of grapes while watching the monster work, feet kicked up on the sofa. It’s a Sunday night, no plans to go out, yet he’s dressed up as usual. In a peculiar sense, it feels like an ancient empress observing her lowly servant. All they’d need to complete the scene is a large ostrich feather to fan him with.
He secures the first leg and Ricky pops another grape in his mouth.
Another leg twisted on, and Ricky moves closer to the edge of the couch, approaching his subject. “You know… I’ve always had a thing for vampires… even dressed up as one three Halloweens in a row.”
Gyuvin brushes his bangs away and huffs. “That is entirely unsurprising, Ricky. I’ve only ever seen you in black, and you literally have a poster of Bram Stoker’s Dracula on your bedroom wall.”
“How did you– I showed you my room for, like, two seconds! Anyways, it’s not like that. I like that movie for the costumes.”
Gyuvin stops what he’s doing to lean back and assess the other, “Okay… so it’s not about the vampirism… but how they dress?”
“It’s– I don’t know! I’ve never thought of a vampire that wasn’t, like, extravagant and gothic. I don’t know.” Ricky was probably trying to tease, or entice, or something, but it feels so great to have him scrambling for once. A small victory for the lowly servant.
He seizes the opportunity to be enticing in return, “Well, look no further, baby,” he purrs, puffing his chest out.
It doesn’t seem to work. Ricky gives him a weird look before bursting into laughter, “Yeah, I’m still not convinced,” wiping a tear from his eye, “Maybe not all vampires wear black and red, but they definitely don’t wear jeans and a sweatshirt.”
Gyuvin would protest, but Ricky grins down at him like he doesn’t mean a word of it.
It’s a struggle to finish building the table with Ricky’s attempts to make him swoon every minute, but he gets the job done.
—
A snowless winter envelops the city slowly, gradually, and the creature of the night couldn’t be happier to spend even more time with the man of his dreams.
Gyuvin invites Ricky on countless dates. Ice skating, cafes (he asks for detailed reviews), sightseeing, and many walks on calm, quiet streets. Some nights, they even go out to dance. Ricky learns to appreciate disco night. Nothing more happens. Fingers interwoven together, a palm on a cheek, a tight, long hug, but nothing more.
With any other person, Gyuvin wouldn’t hold back from giving all the affection barely contained within his body, but this is Ricky. He’ll take what the human gives him, and he won’t push for more. He can’t. It’s a slippery slope.
Ricky is still a menace on occasion. He loves to angle his head in the perfect way, make the veins on his neck pop, subtle enough for plausible deniability. He loves to rake a hand through the hair on his nape, exposing the milky skin there. When he gulps down a drink, he leans back and taunts the vampire with the movement of his Adam's apple. It’d be cruel if he wasn’t so cute about it.
One time, the mortal got a nosebleed as they were lounging on his sofa. Ricky cursed the cold, dry air and, to Gyuvin’s dismay, crudely asked if the vamp wanted a taste. Gyuvin stomped over to the bathroom, launched a box of tissues across the living room, and reprimanded him with a glare.
“Not funny,” he snapped while Ricky stared back with his best imitation of innocence. That one was confessedly a bit more cruel than cute.
He figures it’s just Ricky being his usual goading self, and it doesn’t mean more than that. He refuses to think it does. It’s a slippery slope.
This time around, Gyuvin accepted his friend’s incessant pleas to style him. Black dress pants snug on his hips, freshly ironed white shirt and a simple black tie. When Hao insisted he top it all off with the elder’s ‘cool girl’ leather jacket (his own words), Gyuvin quickly started to feel like a sad copy of his maker. He doesn’t deserve the cool girl jacket. He’s not a cool girl.
Still, Hao pushed him out the door before he could change into something more Gyuvin, so he stands near the ticket booth, fiddling with the dangling faux-silver charms sewn onto the leather and waiting for Ricky to arrive. Soon enough, he saunters in. Gyuvin is lucky they’re here on a Wednesday evening, in a near-empty movie theatre, because Ricky looks… different. Slightly unrecognizable. For one, he’s wearing jeans. His features are just barely embellished with makeup, and his torso drowns in a cherry red sweater. It’s probably made of mohair or cashmere or some other synonym of luxury, but it’s still the softest he’s ever appeared. Oh god, his hair isn’t even styled. Gyuvin can’t breathe.
Ricky utters a brief, “Oh”, acknowledgement laced with surprise. “We swapped!”
Gyuvin cringes. “Ah, I know, I’m sorry… My roommate went way overboard for a movie date, I wanted to change back but–” Ricky runs a finger along his jacket sleeve, lays a quick peck on his cheek, and the rambling stops then and there.
“You look really good, Gyu.”
At that, the vampire leads his date to the screening room with his back straight and his head held high. If Ricky thinks he’s deserving of the cool girl jacket, who is Gyuvin to deny him?
The movie is boring. Well, maybe not to that extent, but it barely holds Gyuvin’s attention. He’s got the most beautiful man in the history of the universe cuddling up to him, tickling his ear with whispered comments at every twist and turn of the plot, and he’s supposed to focus on a screen? It’d be impossible for anyone in the same situation. Still, Ricky seems enthralled, absentmindedly fiddling with the monster’s sleeve, so he does his best to mimic his date’s enthusiasm for cinema. Gyuvin keeps his gaze pointed to the front and tries not to get too drunk on Ricky, popcorn breath and all.
Once again, Ricky had chosen a spot within walking distance of his apartment, and Gyuvin may be foolish, but he’s no idiot. He’s starting to recognize patterns, to read Ricky’s secret language and translate it into something he understands – now he knows it means “come home with me”. Or maybe something more casual, like a simple “walk me there”. Probably that. Gyuvin shouldn’t get carried away. Slippery slope.
He offers his arm as they step into the cold, and Ricky hooks on without a second thought. They make their way to the apartment while Gyuvin tries to keep up with Ricky’s passionate blather about the symbolism behind the costumes and other cinematic elements he would have picked up on if he wasn’t too busy eyeing his date from his peripheral view.
God, he’s so beautiful. Ricky’s cheeks are round and rosy, pretty smile on full display. He stumbles on more than a few words and everything he says sounds intelligent and true, if only for his enthusiasm. Ricky’s voice goes higher like this. It’s a little unkempt, a little juvenile. It turns Gyuvin to mush.
Then, as they approach his building, Ricky goes quiet. It wouldn’t feel off — he’s not typically so chatty — if it weren’t for the sudden quickness of his heartbeat. At the door, he fumbles for his keys and unlocks the door with a trembling hand. He doesn’t open it. Instead, he turns to look at Gyuvin, and there’s an anxiety in his gaze that the vampire has never seen before, not even when he finally realized what Gyuvin was.
Something is weird. Does Ricky want him to leave? Did he unknowingly fuck everything up within the ten minutes it took them to get here? Is he suddenly feeling sick? Gyuvin would normally be able to detect that sort of thing, but maybe there’s a new virus going around that can’t be perceived by superhuman senses, and the apple of his eye is patient zero. Either way, something is weird.
“Are you feeling alright? You don’t want to go inside?” Gyuvin raises a hand to check for a fever, just in case, but Ricky grabs his wrist to stop him in his tracks.
His palm is clammy and his voice is shy when he finally speaks. “Do you want to go inside?”
Seriously, what is going on with him? “This is your apartment, Ricky.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Do you want me to come in?”
Ricky groans in exasperation. “Answer my question!”
“Dude, is something wrong? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Ricky answers with another groan and a dramatic eye roll before finally opening the door. He kicks his shoes off and plops onto the sofa, making a grab for the chococat pillow and hugging it to his chest. Gyuvin guesses that the door left wide open is an invitation to step inside, so he quickly follows. That’s one piece of the puzzle, at least.
He strips off the leather jacket and sits a comfortable distance away from Ricky. Something is obviously off, Gyuvin doesn’t want to impose himself and risk making the other more uneasy than he already is. “Can we talk? Clearly? I can tell something’s up, but you need to talk to me. I have no clue what’s wrong.”
Ricky looks up from where he was fiddling with an embroidered whisker, and there’s a subtle sadness painting his expression. He looks fragile, vulnerable, smaller than Gyuvin’s ever seen him. He has to grip at his knees to prevent himself from crushing the man in a hug. Time and place.
“It’s just— I mean—” he sighs, scratches at his nape, frustrated and embarrassed. “Do you like me? I mean, like, do you actually want me? ‘Cause you look at me the way you do and you keep asking me out but then you— you never make an actual move and you still call me ‘dude’ and I just can’t be sure!”
Gyuvin tries to interject, but the floodgates have opened wide, and Ricky’s mouth truly goes a mile a minute for the first time ever. It’s a lot of stuttering, of half-thoughts escaping him before they even start to make sense, and then a deep breath.
“I told you I believed you, I offered myself to you so many times, but you keep running away like I’m repulsive. You’ve never even kissed me! It’s not like I’m asking for too much, right? You’re a vampire, Gyuvin. Am I that easy to resist?”
Oh no.
Gyuvin should have seen it coming, should have realized that practicing total restraint in every interaction with the first and only person to remind him of his nature — to show him how real thirst feels — would come back to bite him. He didn’t, of course. Stupid.
Did he seem cold in Ricky’s eyes? Prudish, aloof? That won’t do. This is so much worse than being seen as a desperate, lovesick fool, or even a bloodsucking, night-crawling predator. So much worse. He needs to fix this. Immediately.
Ricky has abandoned the pillow, opting to pick at his cuticles instead, forearms raised as if to protect his heart. Gyuvin feels like crumbling to dust. How dare he make the most enchanting person in the world so insecure! It’s unforgivable, really, but that would never stop the vampire from trying.
Gyuvin sits a little closer and gathers all his courage. “I like everything about you, Ricky.”
There’s no answer, save for a pointed glare, so he lets his mouth run free. “Did you know your smile usually leans a bit to the left? Sometimes it’s barely a centimetre, but every time I see it, there’s, like, a spark in my chest. Or– no– it’s like lighting a match, or–“
“Get on with it, Gyu.”
“Right. Your eyes are always sparkly. Seriously, always. Even in the dark! I swear your cornea has a layer of glitter on it… And you smell addicting, like ripe berries and the sweetest whipped cream you’ve ever tasted. You literally smell like dessert, it’s crazy. And your heartbeat is remarkably steady, a lot softer than most people, except when you get really nervous, or when I say the right thing. And you’re pink all over, your joints and your ears — your neck when it’s windy but you refuse to wear a scarf. You’re so funny, too. Really charming, and very, very kind. And creative, and interesting, and super duper smart, and…” the vampire’s voice dims when he realizes just how close his face has gotten to Ricky’s. They definitely weren’t this close before.
Ricky still wears a calculating look, but his eyes soften, lip quirked ever so slightly to the left, and Gyuvin feels much more than a spark behind his ribcage. This time, it’s more of a bonfire.
“You were saying..?”
Gyuvin stammers for a moment too long. Oh boy, this is the end. He mentally recites a mantra mainly consisting of don’t be a loser bare your heart don’t be a loser bare your heart don’t be a loser and carries on. “I like all of it, is what I mean. I like being around you and getting to know you and I really, really like liking you. I even like the fact that you have sixteen different black coats and ten pairs of the same pants!”
At that, Ricky grabs a fistful of Gyuvin’s shirt collar and pulls him into a kiss, fervent and wanting. Gyuvin, giddy from all this sudden honesty, breaks away and tilts his head back in a giggle, “That’s what got you in the end? Clothes?”
Ricky mumbles a quick, “Oh, shut up,” before tugging him back.
They kiss and breathe and kiss and breathe until Ricky stops the other with a palm to his chest. His lips are swollen and his pupils are blown wide. He’d look feral if it weren’t for the graceful tilt of his head and the sure hands moving up to cup Gyuvin’s jaw.
“Do you wanna try again?” The mortal shifts his face a bit further to the side, and now Gyuvin understands. Ricky isn’t wearing a necklace, or that dangly cross earring he loves so much. Under his sweater, a simple black tank top. His neck is warm and bare, and the tendons connecting it to his shoulder are twitching, jumping at every breath and every stutter of his own heart.
He wants this. He actually, truly wants this, maybe even more than Gyuvin does. The notion makes the vampire’s mouth water, filling him with a warm sense of peace. The knot in his stomach gently unfurls.
For once, Gyuvin doesn’t fight himself. He lets himself reach up and rest a hand on Ricky’s cheek, coaxing him back to face him. Lets his fingers run through the mortal’s hair, softer than silk and darker than the night. He takes his time, savours Ricky’s shaking breath, his pounding heart and pleading eyes.
“Not the neck, I don’t want to risk putting your life in any more danger,” he finally replies.
Ricky, any attempt to save face long gone, lets out a whine in protest. A full-fledged wet cat whine. And then a resigned huff. “Fine, we can go for the neck next time. Left or right, dear?” He extends his arms in front of him, the thin purple veins of his wrists poking out from his sleeves and staring back at the vampire.
Next time??? Gyuvin suddenly feels a wave of concern for Ricky’s mental wellbeing. He’s taking this way too lightly for Gyuvin’s liking, using pet names and acting like this is the most normal thing to do at the end of a date. He doesn’t have a death wish, right? He hasn’t been secretly aching and pained, craving release by becoming vampire food? Right?
“I just— I need to know why you want me to— to, you know…”
“Drink from me?”
That’s certainly a way to put it, sure. Gyuvin nods shyly, worrying his bottom lip with his fangs.
Ricky hums as he thinks for a second. “Honestly, I don’t know… I just like you. And you happen to be a vampire, and I want to be a part of your life. The first few times were jokes but… I really mean it now. I guess… I want to give myself to you. Like, in a way that matters. If you’ll have me.”
Strangely, that makes perfect sense. Gyuvin never thought of it that way before. Maybe all those gothic romance vampire stories loosened a few screws in Ricky’s brain, probably, but it’s not really the same. Gyuvin’s no Dracula. He’s just a guy who happens to be a vampire, three months younger than his human sweetheart, whose cheeks still turn pink when a pretty boy tells him something like that.
It’s sweet, and disarming, and it makes perfect sense. Gyuvin’s face splits into a wide, dopey grin.
“I’ll take the left, then.”
What happens next is a bit of a blur, but there are things Gyuvin couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. Ricky’s face when his fangs break the fragile skin, nose scrunched up, brows furrowed, a blinding, trusting smile. The first taste of human blood in ages, thick red ambrosia flowing down his throat, sweeter than he remembers it to be. A lust he’s never known, mouth clinging onto Ricky’s wrist like a lifeline, eyes locked, gaze fond. A drunken, heady feeling, a buzzing in his limbs, Ricky’s gentle pulse pressing into his lips.
He never really understood what made a vampire enjoy being a vampire until that moment. Gyuvin has never felt more alive. He’s never felt more himself.
He doesn’t know how he managed to rip himself away from the wound, but Ricky is alive and conscious — albeit quite dazed — when Gyuvin snaps back to reality.
Ricky lazily points him towards the first aid kit in the bathroom and Gyuvin wastes no time cleaning and bandaging his wrist, despite there being very little blood to clean up. It seems he didn’t let anything go to waste, not even a single drop on the carpet. He then raids Ricky’s kitchen and brings back a protein bar and a small bowl of raspberries.
When it’s all over, and they’re both settled on the couch, Ricky finally breaks the silence. “Thanks, that was really fun.”
Baffled, Gyuvin can only think to laugh, so he does, starting as a huff and gradually turning into full blown hysterical laughter. Ricky joins in, languid chuckling harmonizing with Gyuvin’s shrill cackle.
“You’re so weird,” Gyuvin says after a while, clutching at his stomach and catching his breath.
Ricky offers one of his cocky, million-dollar smirks. “You’re lucky I’m weird.”
“I am. I’m the luckiest vampire in the history of vampires.”
If it weren’t for Ricky’s pallor, he’d be turning red right now. Gyuvin can tell from the way he bats his eyelashes and turns his head away the slightest bit.
“You’ve got some blood on your chin, stupid,” is his reply.
By the time all the colour returns to his face, it’s very late. Gyuvin insisted he needed to monitor Ricky’s vitals and make sure there were no consequences to this whole thing, save for two little puncture wounds, but he can’t realistically stay the night. South-facing windows: a vamp’s worst nightmare.
“Don’t you need to keep an eye on me?”
“Yeah, but I’ll, like, die if I’m still here by sunrise.”
Ricky yawns and stretches his arms out like a lazy cat. “Take me to your place, then. I’m sure your roommates wouldn’t mind.”
Seriously, he’s fine. His blood pressure is fine, his blood sugar is fine. His heart beats calmly, resolute in its vitality. He’s fine. He doesn’t need a babysitter, or a nurse, or a worried vampire pestering him. And yet—
“Okay!”
The house is surprisingly empty when they get there. Gyuvin leads Ricky up the stairs with a firm arm around his waist and pushes his creaky bedroom door open.
“A coffin and a queen bed… greedy,” Ricky snickers.
“It’s for, um, guests. You know, just in case someone–”
Ricky cuts him off with a knowing look, “Uh huh.”
The vampire flusters, “Don’t look at me, I wasn’t in charge of interior decoration! My contributions are my sheets and the posters on the wall.”
Ricky drops onto the canopy bed and scans the room. He turns back to the lanky creature nervously hovering near the doorway. “Your roommate has true vamp taste.”
Indeed, it was all mahogany, velvet, black and burgundy with Hao. The baby blue blanket and boy bands pinned to somber wallpaper are ill-fitting, but they make the room feel at least a little closer to home. Gyuvin’s planning to change the furniture eventually, whenever he finds the motivation. Hopefully within this decade.
Ricky changes into one of his host’s many pyjama bottoms, causing party cannons filled with confetti and butterflies to burst inside Gyuvin. He does the same, and they sink into the plush mattress together.
The mortal stares at his bandaged wrist, then shifts his focus to Gyuvin. The browns of his irises reflect pure mirth, something close to adoration. One soft beat, two, three, and he steels his face into mocking severity. “That was sufficient proof, I can now say I fully believe you,” nodding solemnly until he cracks with a snort.
Gyuvin, astonished by the sight of the modelesque man, pretty smile and saccharine blood, tangled in his sheets, can’t seem to formulate a single word. Can’t even laugh along with him. Instead, he lifts his head off the pillow to kiss the corner of his mouth and squeezes Ricky close to his chest.
“Oh,” the human gasps, breathless. “This is new. I didn’t know you were so touchy.”
Gyuvin buries his face into the crook of Ricky’s neck, feeling the muscles there shiver. Cute. “You’re gonna get sooo sick of me.”
“I doubt it,” he replies, pressing his cheek to the vampire’s forehead.
It’s a bit like pillow talk. Whispering into each other’s skin, lips brushing against a knuckle, a bicep, a temple, weightless words of affection they’d caged until now. They hold one another, adjust and shift just to see what feels right, tracing silhouettes with tentative touches. Eventually, Ricky drifts asleep, leaving Gyuvin with the soft rumble of his breath and the occasional unconscious twitch of his hand on the monster’s hipbone.
Vampires don’t sleep, not really. They can rest, or meditate, or simply lay there, but actual sleep is obsolete. Gyuvin used to think it was a shame until now. He can revel in Ricky’s warm skin, the serene stream of blood flowing underneath it, without any worry that he’ll miss a single second. Time stands still in this moment. Gyuvin lowers his head to Ricky’s chest, counts every thump to create his own clock.
A couple thousand ticks, and dawn creeps into the room through a crack in the thick velvet curtains. It’s the closest Gyuvin can get to witnessing the sun rise, a vertical beam of pale blue light on the wall, hues of pink and orange pouring into it. He couldn’t find it in himself to close the curtains all the way.
He misses a lot of it. He misses going for lunch with his parents, misses his brother’s soccer tournaments, hot sand burning his feet at the beach, morning jogs. He misses school, actually going and meeting people, sometimes skipping class to laze about in the park near campus. Gyuvin was just starting his second year when he was turned. He misses the friends he made, all the people he doesn’t know how to face in this state, after all this time.
It’d be easy to despair if he were alone, without Hao to guide him, or Hanbin to carry him. And now, by some miracle, there’s Ricky.
Ricky to accept him. Ricky to embrace his nature, to participate in it, to help him really, truly accept it as well.
A while later, when the beam shines a brilliant white, Ricky stirs awake, and Gyuvin can’t hold back from sprinkling his groggy face with kisses.
—
It becomes a regular occurrence.
For the first time since moving into his maker’s gothic townhouse, Gyuvin’s room finally feels properly lived in. The wallpaper is still drab, the wood still dark, now with the addition of Ricky’s fancy pens at his desk, an extra toothbrush in his bathroom, sheets that no longer lay perfectly. Every sleepover brings about subtle changes that just make sense. Natural, as if it was meant to look this way.
Unsurprisingly, Hao and Hanbin adore him. Gyuvin has never seen the familiar so happy to use the kitchen for someone other than himself, and it’s sweet how eagerly he makes breakfast, prepares snacks and packs lunches for the newcomer. Hao and Ricky share an affinity for fashion and Romantic art, which is apparently the key to the eldest vampire’s heart. Suffice to say that Ricky has, whether it’s intentional or not, carved a space for himself within their oddly lovely, bloodsucking household. Gyuvin wouldn’t have it any other way.
His wrist had fully healed within a week, not even a scar to commemorate that night. They haven’t really sat down to talk about it, and it hasn’t happened since, but Ricky still flaunts his long, slender neck at every chance he gets. Gyuvin figured it out a little while ago — Ricky hates asking for things outright, only brings it up when desires fester, start to eat at him, chewing a path up his throat. It’s been about a month, so, following Ricky-logic, it’ll be any day now.
Unfortunately for him, Gyuvin’s terms were strictly set. Not a drop unless Ricky explicitly requests it.
A few mornings ago, as he laid in bed, procrastinating getting ready for class, Ricky asked the vampire a question out of the blue. “What’s a food you really miss? Like, really miss, would risk liquefied intestines just to taste it again.”
Gyuvin answered immediately, “Fruits. Mango, especially. Nothing can compare.”
He didn’t think much of the interaction at the time. It seemed as trivial as telling someone his favourite colour.
Ricky hasn’t come over since then. Something about winter midterms and Taerae needing a “girls’ night in”. It’s only been half a week and Gyuvin is sick with longing. He can’t be in the bed when he’s alone, it’s too big and too empty, and Ricky’s spare sketchbook is gathering dust on his desk, and nothing feels right without him around. And Ricky’s a shit texter at the moment, so that’s no remedy.
The vampire’s suffering ends on Friday night, when his sweetheart knocks on their front door. Hao is out hunting, and Hanbin is probably holed up in the study toiling away at his thesis, so Gyuvin bolts downstairs to let him in.
The door opens, and something is different.
“Ricky, you–”
“Hey, Gyu,” he interrupts, “Let’s go upstairs.”
Ricky takes his hand, brushes a thumb against his knuckle, and pulls him along with a grin. Gyuvin’s brain is short-circuiting from the sheer absurdity it is attempting to process, so he follows wordlessly, slack jawed.
Ricky sits him down on the baby blue comforter and closes the bedroom door, joining him on the bed with a delicate hand to his knee. “I missed you,” he says softly.
“You’re– you smell like–”
“I ate one every day this week, and maybe four or five today, just in case,” he huffs out a laugh, ears stained red. “I wanted to surprise you after disappearing for a bit, wasn’t sure it would work but so far so good, right? I don’t know if the taste will be as strong as I’m hoping, but–”
“Taste?” Gyuvin exclaims suddenly, his mind still stumbling with the effort to keep up.
Ricky rolls his eyes and lets out a timid chuckle, “Well, yeah. You thought I’d eat my weight in mangoes just for you to smell me?”
And there it is. Not much of a request, but this unnecessarily elaborate plan is basically Ricky’s version of begging on his hands and knees.
“This is crazy. You’re crazy.”
“I bet it’ll taste better from my neck,” Ricky ponders, tapping his index on his chin as if this was a hypothesis he wanted to confirm.
Gyuvin regains his composure and, in an attempt to fight back for once, slowly crawls towards the mortal, invading his space bit by bit. Ricky reacts subtly, feigning indifference, but his nails dig into his palms as the drum of his heart grows louder and louder. It’s adorable, really.
The closer he gets, the more overwhelmed his senses become. The scent is intoxicating. Not only is it Ricky, already mouth-watering on his own, it’s also the sticky, fruity sweetness, the knowledge of what this ethereal being in front of him did. All for Gyuvin. It’s almost too good to be true. He’s almost too perfect to be true.
Gyuvin grazes his lips on Ricky’s shoulder, causing the human to shiver involuntarily. He puffs out a breath he’s been unconsciously holding in, and a nervous, giddy laugh escapes along with it. Gyuvin doesn’t get the upper hand often, but he does like it. Ricky’s so lovely when he’s nervous, when he can’t hide or downplay how he feels around Gyuvin. It satisfies something ancient and primal within the vampire. Maybe that’s his version of a predator instinct.
Gyuvin takes a deep breath as he reaches Ricky’s neck, taking it all in. Tense muscles and tendons, a dainty butterfly stud decorating his reddening earlobe, stark black ink embedded into skin.
He presses a long, firm kiss, and backs away.
“I’m not ready, yet.”
Ricky’s chest rises and falls at breakneck speed, blinking out of the stupor he was in, “That– that’s okay.”
He offers his wrist once he’s calmed down and Gyuvin graciously accepts, holding his forearm up with reverence. The monster brings it closer, mouth widening, but then hesitates.
“Did it hurt last time?” he asks.
“Oh, um, not much. Less than a neck tattoo,” Ricky muses. “Besides, I like that kind of pain. I mean– I’m not a masochist! Or, like, maybe a little… A lot of people with tattoos feel that way.”
Gyuvin laughs, “I’ll take your word for it.”
He sinks his fangs slowly, studying Ricky’s face as they go deeper. A wince, followed by a bitten lip in a pleased smile; wide, teary eyes gazing back.
The taste of mangoes trickles down his throat. Sugary blood and ripe mangoes. Gyuvin almost pinches himself from how surreal it feels, but instead he drinks, and drinks, and drinks. His claws nearly rip into the tenderness of Ricky’s palm with the strength of his grip. The vampire has half a mind to pull back, beginning to unlatch, when Ricky places his free hand on the back of Gyuvin’s head to keep him there.
“Keep going, I’m okay,” he nods encouragingly.
Gyuvin takes smaller sips (just in case) while Ricky’s lithe fingers brush through his hair. What did he do to deserve such a benevolent, generous, unhinged person in his life? Whoever his guardian angel is, if vampires even get those, they should get a raise. A promotion, even.
Ricky starts looking pale, faint, but his warm smile never fades. His hand drops to Gyuvin’s lap as he breathes a weak giggle. “Hah… Like a fruit bat…”
His head falls heavily onto the vampire’s chest, and he’s out like a light. Oh shit.
Gyuvin rips himself away from the wound to lay Ricky down on the bed, then runs into the hall to scream for help. Hanbin emerges from one end in a panic, peers inside to see Ricky posed like a drained Sleeping Beauty, and rushes to the other end of the hall. He leaves his bedroom with an overflowing emergency kit and pushes past his roommate.
“Don’t worry, Ricky will be fine. Happens to me all the time,” the familiar affirms. “Go get a glass of water, he’ll need it when he comes to.”
Gyuvin follows Hanbin’s orders and arrives back to the appeasing sight of his just-awoken sweetheart. Hanbin binds Ricky’s wrist at record speed and pops a straw into a juice box.
Some water, apple juice, and several saltine crackers later, Ricky looks much better. Hanbin talks the two into getting vamp first aid lessons from him, then leaves the room.
Before Gyuvin can apologize a million times over, Ricky raises a shaky thumb to the corner of the vampire’s mouth, swipes it clean, and brings it to his own.
He licks the blood off and offers a cheshire grin. “I’m glad you liked it.”
—
Things are great. February goes by in a flash, a month full of dates and Valentine’s gifts and getting to know Ricky’s friends better. Ricky offers his wrist every week, though they’ve opted for the safer route of smaller drinks and no tempting embellishments. Gyuvin discovers that human blood is a lot more filling than animal blood. By now, he only needs Ricky to be satisfied.
There’s just one thing that feels slightly off, however. The first time Ricky invited him to hang out with Taerae and Matthew, the issue revealed itself.
“You’ve met Gyuvin before, he’s my– uh… yeah. Gyuvin,” Ricky awkwardly announced.
It’s not that labels are crucial to their relationship or anything, they are what they are and it’s been amazing. Despite his certainty that Ricky does indeed like him, want him, he can’t help but feel a pang of insecurity when he hears one of the most important people in his life refer to him as just… Gyuvin. Plain old Kim Gyuvin. Couldn’t he have said lover, or something? Friend, at the very least?
So, maybe labels do matter to Gyuvin. More than he’d like to admit. Come to think of it, he’s not even completely sure if they’re exclusive. He knows he is, but what if Ricky spends their few days apart per week in someone else’s arms? Someone else’s bed?
Gyuvin wants to be cool, and open minded, and supportive of whatever Ricky gets up to, but the thought makes him nauseous.
After secretly agonizing over his dilemma for a couple days, he brings it up to his roommates.
“Is this even a question?” Hao scoffs. “There’s only one way to go about it long term. You need to make him your familiar.”
Gyuvin sputters, shocked at his maker’s callousness. “What?”
“Vampires and mortals can’t maintain relationships that aren’t built on this dynamic, it always ends badly otherwise. You’ll end up killing him, or he’ll expose you, or kill you, or he’ll just die really young and you’ll be devastated and that will kill you too. Vampire-familiar relationships ensure mutual trust and protection, maintain order, and extend a human’s life. To top it off, there’s the promise of eventually passing your dark gift onto them, which solves all those problems in due course. There is no other way to be with a mortal, not unless you’re seeking for it to destroy you.” Hao crosses his legs and raises his chin, uppity and cold. It seems to be a sensitive subject. He never acts this way.
Hanbin stirs from where he’s sitting on their sofa, inches apart from his master. He doesn’t look mad, or even particularly sad, but he looks back at the younger vampire with misty eyes. It makes Gyuvin’s heart drop and his blood boil.
“That’s ridiculous! I don’t want to subjugate him, I don’t want him to– to mop blood off the floor or clean my room or find me victims or whatever else you put Hanbin through!”
“How dare you!” Hao roars. It shakes the whole living area, cracks the mirror above the fireplace. They’ve never fought before, and Gyuvin hopes it never happens again. He almost forgot how scarily powerful Hao is. What a crude reminder.
They hurl insults and petty quips back and forth until Hanbin stands up and urges Hao out of the room. The eldest lets him. Gyuvin simmers down in the aftermath, alone in the centre.
Half an hour, and Hanbin finds him sitting criss-crossed on the carpet with his head in his hands.
“Hey, are you okay to talk?”
Gyuvin groans into his palms and nods. Hanbin lowers himself to the carpet and waits.
They sit together in silence before Gyuvin starts itching to break it. “I don’t get why he was so mean about it. Like, I can’t be the only vampire in existence looking for a normal relationship, there’s no way!”
“I agree.”
“And, like, we’re equals, and I like it that way. I don’t want him to be my slave, or something.”
“I’m not a slave, Gyuvin. I choose to stay here with him, and with you.” Hanbin takes his hand, looking at him insistently.
“I doubt he’d choose that. I don’t want him to choose that! I don’t want to be Ricky’s master, I want to be his boyfriend!”
Hanbin had been trying to keep his composure, to mainly stick to listening, but he breaks despite himself. “You don’t have to be! You know, I’m barely a familiar by traditional standards. They don’t tend to sleep in the same bed as their master, and I really doubt they get a massage after a tough day. I don’t even want to be a vampire — not anytime soon, at least. Hao knows that, and he respects my wishes. Starting to sound more like a boyfriend, huh?”
Gyuvin only sees pure sincerity in Hanbin’s expression, which further perplexes him. “Why do you keep it up, then? Why call him master to his face?”
Hanbin sighs, “Hao lived a whole life before meeting us. He hasn’t told you much about it, right?”
Gyuvin shrugs in response.
“I won’t pretend to know much more than you. All I can say is he’s holding onto something from before all this, before you and me. He’s been slowly, very slowly letting go of the past since we met him, though.” He squeezes the vampire’s hand. “They say love changes people. I can be his familiar until I no longer need to be, I’m patient. I’ve been changed too, you know. I’m very happy with the way things are!”
Hanbin’s answer doesn’t satisfy Gyuvin the way he hoped. His friend seemingly picks up on his apprehension, exposed through his chewed up lip and jittery hands.
“You and Ricky aren’t like us, though. Your relationship is your own, not Hao’s or mine. You don’t have to comply with what Hao thinks is best. You like him, it’s as simple as that.”
“It feels more like love, honestly,” Gyuvin flushes, bashful about his outburst and the hushed confession. A word he’d been subconsciously mulling over for as long as he can remember, but never voiced until now.
“That could be!” Hanbin exclaims gleefully, “Either way, I’d love for him to stick around, he’s kind and funny and he enjoys my cooking. Tell him how you’ve been feeling, if only for my sake!”
The dust settles as March rolls around. Hao gives him the silent treatment for less than a day before they talk it out and the household’s harmony is restored. He doesn’t understand, not yet, but Hao said love goes beyond understanding. Gyuvin is good with that.
Now, that leaves him to think and rethink how to bring it up to Ricky.
He’s typically good with his words, sprinkles I love you’s around all his loved ones, but asking the boy he’s been seeing – draining – for clarity somehow feels like a major hurdle, and that scary four letter word feels like climbing Mount Everest. What’s wrong with him? Loving Ricky is easy, but telling him isn’t? How foolish!
Maybe, just for now, he can show it instead. Sure, it breaks one of his biggest rules, but he has to do something.
“I have a proposition,” he declares one night while watching Ricky scribble in his sketchbook, nestled between the pillows on Gyuvin’s bed, wearing one of Gyuvin’s decrepit sleep shirts.
Without looking up, Ricky answers, “Mm? What is it?”
Gyuvin needs to properly get his point across, needs Ricky to see him when he says it, so he moves up to straddle the distracted artist’s lap. Ricky’s eyes still point downward, but his lips are curling into a smirk as red tints his ears. Gyuvin swiftly takes the sketchbook and pencil out of his hands and places them on the bedside table. Now Ricky’s looking.
“A compromise,” he starts.
Ricky traces a pattern on the vampire’s thigh and cocks an eyebrow, “I’m listening…”
“Y’know those two freckles I have? The ones on the back of my neck?”
“I know about much more than two, Gyu,” he leers.
“No– Just– Stop flirting and walk with me here! Think about only those two. One time, you joked and called them my–“
“Bite marks,” Ricky cuts in. “Yeah, I remember. What does that have to do with anything?”
“What if — and don’t laugh — what if we, um, match?” Gyuvin offers in a tiny voice.
Ricky doesn’t laugh. His eyes widen, pupils expanding until they almost entirely eclipse the rich brown surrounding them, and his smile drops into a silent gasp. “My neck?” he murmurs.
Gyuvin nervously scratches his head, “Yeah… I mean, it’s lower, more, like, between your neck and shoulder, so there’s no way I could accidentally hit an artery. The scar will fade soon enough, but we’ll know, and I–” Gyuvin stops, gulps down the lump in his throat.
I love you.
“I thought it could be romantic,” he concludes.
Ricky stares back in awe for a couple more seconds before fervently nodding, grinning excitedly, like a kid in a candy shop. “It’s perfect, let’s do it.”
Ricky lifts the raggedy tee above his head for easier access, and he’s… Wow. All soft skin and lean muscle, an ostentatiously big tattoo along his rib, shivers around his navel from the sudden air. Gyuvin has already seen Ricky like this many times, but it feels a bit more special now that he’s about to drink from his neck. Or, almost-neck. Close enough.
It’s a lot to take in. The anticipation makes his stomach somersault, makes his body feel flimsy from where he sits. The monster presses his palms on the mortal’s chest to steady himself, and Ricky deems it a cue to make things worse by wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer. Oh boy, Gyuvin is probably beet red by now.
“Don’t be scared,” Ricky whispers calmly. “I’ll enjoy it as much as you will. I can tap your back if I want you to stop.”
“You never want me to stop,” Gyuvin whines.
“I know when you’d like for me to want that, don’t I? No accidents since the mango incident, and that won’t change tonight. You can trust me.”
It’s odd to be the one needing reassurance when he’s the danger in this situation. Things have always been a bit topsy-turvy between the two, but it really hits Gyuvin in that moment. “We’re really weird,” he remarks with a trembling smile.
“Oh, for sure. Now, my dear, care for a taste?” Ricky speaks in an atrocious posh accent that makes the vampire wheeze and untangles the knot in his gut. He lets his head fall to the side as he gazes up at Gyuvin, fond and shimmering.
Gyuvin giggles and gently tilts Ricky’s head the opposite way. “Other side, silly. We’re supposed to match.”
I love you.
The vampire doesn’t dawdle, closing in on the right side of Ricky’s neck. He presses his lips to the sensitive spot under his ear, travels down with a trail of chaste kisses. The human’s quick, shallow breathing is music to his ears, the feverish pump of his heartbeat, the rivers rushing beneath his skin. Gyuvin straightens back up to kiss Ricky, really kiss him, steal just a little more air from his lungs, then lowers himself once more with a peck to the protruding bone at his shoulder before piercing into the sinewy juncture.
Ricky hisses, and Gyuvin regrets not being able to see his face from this angle. Manicured nails dig into the small of his back as he takes his first sip. It probably hurts more than a neck tattoo this time.
For some reason, the blood here is sweeter. Thicker, too, warm honey falling on his tongue. It’s hard not to get carried away, the sentiment doubled thanks to his beloved’s preposterous sweet tooth.
Ricky quickly relaxes into it, stroking his hands up and down the vampire’s spine, breathing out praise, thanking him, asking for a little more, a little longer. A minute passes before Gyuvin feels a weak pat, just as the other’s speech starts to slur.
He detaches himself, licking up a drop threatening to spill down Ricky’s back. He looks up to meet half-lidded eyes and a content, crooked smile.
Gyuvin has become a whiz at aftercare, thanks to Hanbin’s tips, so the human recovers in no time. He lays gracefully under the covers as the monster hand feeds him strawberries.
“You take such good care of me,” he mumbles.
“It’s the least I can do! You literally feed me, Rick. Not like this,” Gyuvin gestures to the last strawberry in the crook of his palm, “but, like, actually you. You keep me alive.”
Ricky tries to hide his blush by putting on a fake air of arrogance. “How could you survive without me,” he sighs self-appraisingly.
Gyuvin hesitates, “Uh, well, animals, to be honest.”
“What, like rats?” he gawks.
Now it’s his turn to blush. “Among others, yeah. I didn’t really drink human blood in the past…”
“Isn’t that kinda… degrading?”
“I guess, but it’s better than killing people.”
Ricky utters a small confused sound, “You aren’t killing me. You could’ve done this with other
people instead, no?”
Gyuvin’s cheeks bloom darker. “It never felt right before you.”
“Oh… Wow, I feel special.”
“You are.”
I love you.
Ricky finishes his last strawberry in contemplative silence while Gyuvin watches him. Once he’s done, he asks the vampire to turn off the lights and join him in bed, and, as usual, he complies instantly.
In the quiet dark, he reaches up to kiss Gyuvin, tender, careful, drawn-out yet too brief to be satiating. When he retreats and rests his head back on the pillow, his palm lingers on Gyuvin’s cheek.
“You know I’m yours, right? I want to be sure you know. I meant what I said that first time, about giving myself to you. Only you, if that wasn’t clear. I’m not sure I’ve said it enough,” Ricky whispers, tucking a tuft of hair behind Gyuvin’s ear.
Ricky is an angel, an artist, a gift from the cosmos, the love of his immortal life, and now a mind reader, apparently.
Gyuvin’s smile grows until it hurts. “Only you,” he repeats.
He falls into a deep sleep soon after. With his strong back pressed to Gyuvin’s chest, the vampire can easily monitor his vitals. As always, he counts the ticking clock of Ricky’s heartbeat. As always, its rhythm is steadfast and healthy. Gyuvin wraps an arm around his waist, laying his hand flat on his sternum to feel it on both sides.
I love you.
Early morning comes in a weak blue haze.
Ricky pivots to lay on his other side, tucking himself under Gyuvin’s chin. He’s not awake, not really, but he still finds a way to fluster Gyuvin when he stamps his lips onto the hollow notch at his collarbone. A menace in his dreams, too.
Gyuvin involuntarily twitches at the sensation, rousing Ricky. He doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t shift his position, but Gyuvin can feel the mischievous grin against his skin. Before he can utter a single word, the mortal kisses along his collar again, again, again, again, and again. How he can be this enticing first thing in the morning is beyond Gyuvin’s understanding.
Then, to top it all off, he nips. Bites down on Gyuvin’s neck, the spot the vampire refuses to pierce, pulling a desperate sound from his throat. He keeps at it, nibbling until Gyuvin twitches again.
“Sensitive?”
Gyuvin doesn’t trust himself to speak right now, replying with a short, pitchy squeak instead.
“How ironic,” Ricky huffs, pleased with himself.
He goes in one more time, concluding with a hint of a kiss to the tender area, and relaxes back into the monster’s embrace.
“It was my turn to play vamp,” he yawns, suddenly sweet and cuddly again. He drifts back to sleep almost immediately, before Gyuvin even begins to recover from whatever that was.
Ricky drives him crazy. Turns his limbs to jelly, forces the most incriminating reactions out of him, makes his stomach growl with want. Gyuvin is pretty sure there’s no other person in the world that could make him feel the way Ricky does, not now, not in a thousand years.
He doesn’t want to think about it, but it does tug at his mind in times like these, when he’s feeling too much, when Ricky is lost in a realm the vampire can no longer reach.
Ricky will get old. His bones will turn brittle, his skin will wrinkle, his bright eyes will grow dull. Ricky will die. Gyuvin will remain plump-cheeked and agile throughout. He realizes being a vampire can be a painful existence when in love. He’s beginning to understand where Hao was coming from a little better.
If Ricky asked to be turned in five, ten, fifty years, Gyuvin would likely be unable to deny him. But as he lays in his dim bedroom, holding onto the mortal’s warmth, he can only see the present.
He can’t afford to hesitate. He can’t waste their treasured, fleeting time.
When Ricky reawakens with a groan, a couple hours later, Gyuvin sucks in a sharp breath and pushes past his fear. “I want to call you my boyfriend. And I want you to call me your boyfriend. Or lover, or partner, or something like that. I want people to know us that way, I want you to know me that way.”
I love you.
Ricky blinks one weary eye open. “Good morning to you too.”
“Sorry, I know you don’t like thinking too hard when you first wake up. I couldn’t hold it in,” Gyuvin pouts.
Ricky softly pats his cheek, fluttering his eyes shut again. “Don’t apologize, I don’t need to think about it. I’m all in. I’ve known you that way for a while,” he replies with a sleepy smile.
Ricky makes the decision to skip his first class, so they spend their Monday morning cuddled under the sheets, talking about nothing in particular.
Midday rolls around quicker than they’d hoped. Ricky needs to start getting ready for his afternoon painting class, but the tender bliss blanketing them weighs him down. The sliver of light is still meek and grey.
Ricky whines about getting to campus in the drab weather awaiting him, how he wishes spring came with blue skies and sunshine, and it makes Gyuvin ponder.
“I wish I could see you under the sun. Not a picture, or a video. Like, really see you. Be with you... Also, I looked great in sunlight, it’s a real shame!” he exclaims.
“Mmm,” Ricky stretches his body awake, pulling a reflexive grimace, and something about the darling way his nose scrunches up has Gyuvin melting. He curls back into Gyuvin’s arms. “I like what I see now. You’re radiant, sun’s got nothing on you.”
Gyuvin answers by tangling his limbs around Ricky and pressing a kiss to the taut skin of his shoulder.
I love you.
Eventually, the artist wiggles his way out of the vampire’s grasp, kisses him goodbye, and leaves the room.
Gyuvin waits, waits, tosses and turns and thinks of Ricky and thinks of Ricky and thinks of Ricky again. Hanbin probably left him a portion of lunch in the kitchen, hope he enjoyed it. Wonder what he’s working on today, maybe something warm and fuzzy, or cold and sharp. Maybe they’re starting a new assignment. It would be the last one before finals. I should ask him to send me a photo. I’ll ask him. I should change his contact name to ‘my pretty boyfriend Ricky’. Oh, he’d hate that, I gotta do it. No, he’d love it. I’m gonna change it. I should ask him if he’s coming back here after. Hao wanted his opinion on redecorating the living room. I hope Ricky isn’t too cold, he didn’t bring the right jacket for this kind of weather. I gotta nag him about that. No, I won’t. Yes, I will. I love him. I love him. I love him. I love him.
The sun sets and he heads downstairs. He finds Ricky’s dishes in the kitchen sink, likely in too much of a rush to get to school after eating, and washes them for him. He finds Hao on the couch, tells him about Ricky, their confessions and his hopes for what comes next. He mentions his fears, and his maker is kind and supportive and comforting. This is the Hao he knows.
Shortly after, Ricky messages him to say that he’s right outside.
It’s a bit odd — by now he typically waltzes in like he owns the place — but Gyuvin doesn’t think much of it beyond that. Ricky tends to do things on a whim, to switch things up ever so slightly simply because he feels like it. He’s a bit odd, so it cancels out.
The vampire opens the door and is blinded by a severely underdressed Ricky grinning from ear to ear, lovely pink cheeks, pink ears, pink neck, and pink hands holding onto a mid-sized canvas, flipped to the back. Under his boots, the ground is white, and above his head tiny crystals softly float down.
“It’s snowing!” he shouts gleefully, “Finally!”
Ricky is giggling, hopping from one foot to the other and whipping his head around as if this was the first time he’s ever been outside. “After the shittiest winter in the history of mankind, spring comes and finally gives us some snow! Thank you spring! Come on, let’s go enjoy it,” he exclaims, reaching for Gyuvin with his free hand.
His enthusiasm is contagious, pulling a bright smile from Gyuvin’s lips. “I mean, yes, but you’re taking my coat. And my scarf, you’re gonna get sick if you stay like this!”
Ricky deflates and grumbles before reluctantly accepting.
Gyuvin is about to head back in when the canvas comes back into his focus. “Um, what is this for?”
“Oh, almost forgot! It’s… something I made for you a while back. I was kinda scared to give it to you, but I figured today would be the right day to get over that. It’s not very good, but, uh, yeah. If you don’t like it, please pretend for me.”
“I like everything you make, babe.”
The human hums appreciatively, cheeks burning, and flips the canvas over with a shy expression. It’s a bat, a dark, warm brown, flying above an abstract landscape of pinks and greens and pale blues. It’s dynamic, adorable, and makes Gyuvin’s heart soar.
“I thought a portrait might be a bit embarrassing to put up on your wall, so I got creative. This is how I see you, in a way…” he explains in the tiniest voice. “Had to run to my apartment to get it after class, and it started to snow when I stepped back outside to come here. The weather has amazing timing,” Ricky giggles.
Gyuvin doesn’t know what to say. Thanking him isn’t nearly enough. He stutters and lets out puffs of surprised laughter then cups Ricky’s cheeks when nothing else works. He falls deep into the glittery void of his eyes, and something in him relaxes, untangles itself, tumbles out of him before he knows it.
“I love you so much, Ricky.”
The artist’s eyes widen, then crinkle adoringly, “Love you too, Mister Boyfriend-Lover-Partner.”
“You don’t need to use all three…”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
Gyuvin carefully places the painting in a corner of the entrance, and grabs his coat and scarf for Ricky. He hasn’t needed them for three winters now, but he’s been procrastinating cleaning out his closet. It comes in very handy, now. Ricky wears his stuff to keep him warm and to sleep and whenever he doesn’t feel like being dressed for an elite event.
He swaps out his thin leather jacket for the vampire’s giant green puffer and icy blue scarf, giving him a wildly different look. It’s probably the cutest most endearing view Gyuvin’s ever seen, even better with his playful scowl peeking out. Gyuvin snickers and Ricky scoffs, keeping up a charade of frustration. Still, he slots his cold fingers through Gyuvin’s, and they’re off.
They shuffle their feet through the snow aimlessly, more focused on each other than any specific destination. After some time, they arrive at an empty park at the foot of a small hill. The vampire initiates a snowball fight, and the mortal wins. Once their playful screams and cackles subside, they decide to climb to the top. Gyuvin slips a humiliating amount of times but Ricky is nice enough to only laugh at him once. They find a bench at the very top, facing a gorgeous view of downtown, a million tiny lights looking back at them, reflecting off snowflakes like diamonds. Gyuvin wipes the snow away and strips off his hoodie for his darling to sit on. Ricky thanks him with a peck to his jaw.
They observe the snow calmly drifting down in a comfortable silence, arms woven together, knees knocking. Time stands still. Now is all they have, their own version of forever.
“I never asked,” Ricky starts, “Do you like it, being a vampire?”
It takes a minute for Gyuvin to come up with an answer. “I think I do now, much more than before. I love Hao, really, but I didn’t have much of a say in the matter. I think he still feels guilty, sometimes.”
“Should he? Do you resent him for it, even just a little?”
Gyuvin shakes his head and sighs contentedly. “I wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t turned me. If anything, I’m thankful. It’s weird, difficult, sometimes depressing, but it’s a beautiful thing, too. My whole world has opened up to something hidden and ancient. And, like, I’m strong, and fast, I can’t get sick, I’ve got superhero senses… It’s really cool, come to think of it. Yeah, I like it. I go about it differently, I guess, but I’m happy being a vampire.”
The human starts to shiver ever so slightly. It’s getting colder the longer they sit still, but they’re too enraptured by the snow and the lights and the tranquil melody of love mingling with their voices.
“When you say superhero senses, do you mean, like, uh, reading minds, or something?” he asks, bashful and hesitant.
“What? No. Well, I mean, maybe I’ll be able to in the future, but not yet. Plus, I would never hide something like that from you, that feels like a crazy breach of privacy…”
“Just making sure… What can you do, then?”
“I can hear everything. The blood trickling through your veins, the squirrel in the tree over there, someone’s footsteps walking on the sidewalk by the park. Same with taste, sight, and smell. Touch didn’t really change, though... Hey, you wanna know something fun?”
Ricky breathes an endeared chuckle out, “Tell me.”
“Everyone’s heart sounds a little bit different. It’s kinda like a thumbprint. One time, I heard a heartbeat that sounded almost exactly like my grandpa’s cough. It was insane! And there was this other guy last year, I swear it was like a bunch of tiny burps. The bus was dead quiet and I burst out laughing. I was so embarrassed I got off and walked home in the rain!”
Ricky tries to hold in his laughter, but it escapes him anyways. “You have a horrible sense of humor,” he utters right before he wheezes, nullifying his statement.
Gyuvin doesn’t bother to defend himself, only laughs along with him. He delights in the sight of Ricky, round and cozy in his coat, specks of white on raven hair, positively delirious with joy.
Soon enough, things get quiet again. They both sport dopey, lovestruck faces, stealing glances, catching snowflakes on their tongues. Gyuvin laces a leg around the other’s ankle.
Ricky sniffs and scooches closer, pressing into Gyuvin’s side. “What’s mine like?”
“What do you mean?”
“My heart, stupid. What does it sound like?”
Gyuvin thinks for a moment, and Ricky simply waits, blinking slowly, the city held in his eyes. His heart is how it’s always been, soft and strong. He shivers a little under the snowfall, but his blood is warm. Gyuvin can’t understand how he ever thought Ricky was a vampire.
He huffs as his lips curl into a gentle smile. “I thought it was like a bird at first, but that’s not it,” Gyuvin laughs, breathy and giddy. “It’s closer to a cat.” Ricky’s face falls flat. Gyuvin laughs some more. “It sounds like a housecat walking on a hardwood floor, to be more specific.”
Ricky punches his shoulder and Gyuvin yelps, but it doesn’t hurt, they both know that. “I can’t find a better way to describe it!”
Ricky sighs as he fails to suppress a smile, “Fine, I’ll take it. At least it’s not a bird.”
Gyuvin, inches away from peppering his boyfriend’s ice-bitten face with warm little kisses, abandons that plan to let out a loud shriek of indignation that echoes down the hill. “You take that back, I made an awesome bird metaphor in my head when I first saw you!”
Ricky’s grin turns agonizingly fond, berries and sugar in his gaze. Gyuvin can’t help but lick his lips at the sight. “Making poetry about my heart since before we even spoke… You sure you weren’t already in love with me back then?”
It’s teasing, but Gyuvin can’t seem to be able to deny it.
“I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel any other way about you. I was born this way, destined to love Shen Ricky!” he gestures wildly, showing just how grandiose the sentiment is, and successfully making Ricky lose his breath with glee once again.
They giggle into a kiss, sealing it in like a promise.