Work Text:
Day 1
Han Jisung isn't a coward.
At least…he hopes he isn't.
So when his friends dared him to sneak into the creepy, abandoned mansion sitting at the end of the blocked off section of their street, of course he said yes. What was he gonna do? Turn down fifty bucks and the title of being the coolest, most badass guy in their school? Fat chance.
They biked there at around ten at night. Jisung had a flashlight in his pocket and his fingers crossed that he didn't die tonight. It also didn't help that a handful of kids have gone missing from the same exact thing he was about to do tonight.
He's such an idiot.
They stopped in the middle of the street, looking up at the old house. Jisung hesitated for a second, seriously considering turning around and biking home with his tail in between his legs, but then his friend spoke up, "Are you going or not? Don't tell me you're a chicken!" Seungmin said with a laugh at the end of his sentence, and he could hear Felix start to make chicken noises from behind him.
Jisung shook his head and climbed off his bike, "I'm not a chicken." He parked his bike (which means he just laid it down in the front yard on its side) and grabbed the flashlight out of his pocket. Hopefully his roommate didn't notice it missing, but then again, it's a flashlight. The only thing Changbin would notice missing is his food from the fridge.
He took a deep breath and walked up the stone pathway, glancing back at his friends who were still making chicken gestures. They really knew how to get to him. Jisung hated it.
He glanced back at them one more time when he stepped onto the porch, the wooden planks creaking under his weight with every step he took. They gestured for him to keep going and Felix had the biggest smile on his face that Jisung had ever seen.
He turned the rusty metal knob and pushed the door open, wincing at how loud it creaked. Kinda sounded like his roommate's laugh, if he's honest.
He stepped in just a bit, making sure to leave the door open behind him. He felt something tickle the back of his neck, like someones breath, but it was cold and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He whipped his head around, shining his flashlight on every visible surface, but there was nothing there. He huffed a laugh at his own paranoia and looked towards his friends.
"Guys, this really isn't as bad as I thought!" He yelled, "You should come in-" The door slammed shut right in his face with a noise so loud he flinched backwards without meaning to, but he bumped into a large, solid surface. A wall, maybe? But there wasn't a wall this close to him when he was turned around.
He turned slowly, trying to keep his flashlight steady but his hands were so shaky that he almost looked pathetic. His light and his gaze landed on a man's face that wasn't there previously— he didn't even hear any footsteps— and he jumped back, letting out a quiet grunt when his back hit the door.
"Who are you?" The man's voice was low, and he looked at Jisung like he was a bug, but at least he wasn't actively killing him. Jisung let out an imaginary sigh of relief at that. Imaginary because he was scared to breathe right now.
"I- I'm no one, really! I'm just gonna get out of your way and leave you alone! Sorry for disrupting your…night…" He slowly started to lose his confidence as the man just stared, but as his hand grazed the door knob, the man finally spoke up.
"I can't let you do that."
"You can't-…what?"
"I can't let you leave." He stook a step closer and Jisung tried to take a step back, but he just ended up more against the door because he has the survival instincts of a fart.
"Well…why not?" His posture deflated, and suddenly he realized that he should probably be way more scared than he actually was. He didn't know who, or what this guy is. He could kill him in two seconds and Jisung wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He'd probably let him though, if he was honest. The guy glaring at him was actually really hot.
He had a straight nose and sharp eyes. His irises were…red? Jisung didn't even know that was possible. His hair was as dark as the night, slicked back with one piece in front of his forehead, and as he spoke, Jisung swears he could see two pointy teeth poking out.
His outfit was very out of style. A white shirt with a ruffled collar and ruffled cuffs, a black vest over it with fancy patterns embroidered into it that were also black, and pants that were tight enough to show off his thighs but not anything else. His boots were… well, they were boots. Simple black leather with a heel only an inch tall.
"I just can't." He tilted his head, "What's your name?"
"Me?" Jisung pointed at himself stupidly. He's not very good in stressful situations. The man laughed, "Yes. You."
Jisung was right. Two very pointy teeth. He could see it when the man smiled, but they were kind of pretty.
Is he a vampire? Were vampires even real?
"Are you a vampire?" Jisung blurted out, practically watching his critical thinking skills fly out the window. The man's smile dropped and he quirked a brow, "I don't know, is grass green?" He had a faint lisp as he spoke, and Jisung found it kind of cute despite the predicament he was currently in.
"Are you gonna like…kill me now?"
The man hummed, "Not if you tell me your name." Jisung blinked a few times, "Han Jisung." He stuttered a bit, obviously nervous, but the man just smiled, and Jisung could see those two pointy teeth again, "That's a pretty name." He leaned in a little, and Jisung gulped, "It suits you." He leaned in closer, the tip of his nose lightly dragging down the expanse of Jisung's neck.
Jisung embarrassingly tilted his head to the side, letting this random man sniff the side of his neck. The man's hands slid up Jisung's arms before pressing against the door, right next to Jisung's head. Trapping him.
Jisung gulped and his breath shook as he exhaled, and the man definitely noticed because he let out a soft laugh and pulled away, "Nervous?"
Jisung furrowed his brows, "Well, duh. Some random guy I don't know who is apparently also a vampire is sniffing my neck and caging me against his front door." He gulped when Minho looked him in the eye, his own half-lidded, "I wanna go home. I'm sorry. I didn't know you lived here." Jisung whined. His bottom lip wobbled, and it wasn't because he was going to cry. It's because he was scared.
Jisung is a coward. He's always been a coward and a scaredy-cat. But now, he would be okay with being called a chicken if he meant that he got to live.
The man brushed a strand of hair behind Jisung's ears and adjusted his glasses for him, "I'm afraid I can't let you do that. But I'm not going to kill you either. You're…different from the others."
"Different?" Jisung licked his dry lips and missed the way Minho's gaze followed the action, "What do you mean?"
Minho caressed Jisung's cheek with the back of his index finger, "You'll find out soon enough." He spoke low, close to a whisper, "Now," he pulled back, speaking louder than he had been, "Follow me. I'll show you to your room." Jisung blinked a few times, watching Minho turn around. His back was…wow. Jisung was starting to think that the vest was half-corset.
It probably was.
"My room?" The only thing that Jisung moved was his mouth.
Minho glanced at Jisung from over his shoulder, "Yes. I told you you weren't leaving. You didn't think I was going to put you in my basement, did you?" Jisung shrugged, "Well, no. I guess not."
Minho smiled and continued walking without waiting for Jisung.
Jisung followed. What else was he supposed to do?
Minho led him up a flight of spiral stairs, and every inch of his house was just as creepy as the entryway. Dimly-lit, covered in cobwebs. The floor creaked when he walked, and he jumped when a cat suddenly ran in front of him. Do vampires own cats? It isn't impossible, but Jisung never really thought that they would. Especially not a bright orange cat, that was…also translucent?
"In here."
He opened another wooden door, but this one was smaller and equally as creaky as the front door. The room looked like any other guest room, but darker. There was no overhead light, just a couple stands in the corners with already lit candles in them. They were on the same wall as the bed, which honestly looked very comfortable. There was a dresser against the wall across from it with a mirror attached to it.
Jisung thought that was a little strange. Aren't vampires unable to see their own reflection?
Minho didn't walk in, he just stood in the doorway and watched Jisung look around. There was a thin layer of dust over the dresser and the side-tables that were literally tables. Small, circular ones with dark, polished wood. The dust was thin enough to not set his allergies off which he was thankful for because that would be really embarrassing and he doesn't think a vampire would just have allergy medicine on standby.
"I'll come get you for dinner?" Minho said it like a question, but Jisung knew it was the complete opposite. He nodded anyway and Minho closed the door behind him with a smile, showing off those two pointy teeth again.
Jisung sat on the edge of the bed and was shocked at how comfortable it was. He took a deep breath and realized that his situation could be much, much worse right now. He could be dead.
Maybe this was his Y/N moment.
His shoulders deflated. As nice as whoever that is was being, he still had nothing to entertain himself with besides a stupid flashlight. He fiddled with it, flicking the light on and off out of boredom before jumping back when something furry brushed against his legs.
It was another cat. Bright orange but fatter than the other one. He turned to look at Jisung and stared for a few seconds before meowing.
"Um… hi?"
The cat meowed again, putting his entire face into it. He jumped onto the bed next to Jisung and pushed his head into his arm, rubbing his face against Jisung's jacket. "You're sweet." Jisung scratched under his chin and could feel how hard he was purring. Jisung smiled as the cat climbed into his lap and laid down, still purring hard enough for Jisung to hear it without struggle.
"You're kinda chubby for a vampire's cat." He stroked the cat, impressed by how fluffy his coat was, especially for a translucent cat. Jisung was shocked that he could pet it at all. He was obviously well-taken care of, and the thought of a vampire personally grooming his cats made Jisung's smile even bigger, "Do you drink blood too, or…?" The cat meowed, "I'll take that as a no."
He pet the cat for a few more seconds before hearing a creak. He looked up and saw Minho standing in his doorway with a small smile on his face, "I see you've met Doongie. He's talkative, isn't he?"
Jisung nodded and looked down at the cat who suddenly jumped out of his lap, "Yeah. He's a little chubby too."
Minho let out a soft laugh, "I try to tell him to go easy on the food, but he never listens." Jisung smiled and they were quiet for a couple more seconds before Minho spoke up again, "Dinner's ready, if you would like to join me."
Jisung blinked a couple times before nodding, "Okay."
Minho smiled and walked off.
Jisung followed him.
The dining room was exactly what Jisung expected actually. A long table with dark polished wood and a table runner that was a deep red. Wooden chairs with cushions that matched the table runner in color, and a vase of black roses in the middle.
There were placemats in front of every chair, but they seemed dusty and unused.
"Where do you want to sit?" Minho stood next to him and waited patiently as he looked the table over once, then twice. He didn't know where he wanted to sit. He didn't even know what he was still doing here.
"Why don't you sit next to me?" Minho put his hands on Jisung's shoulders when he went quiet for too long, obviously stumped. Jisung nodded hesitantly, "Okay…"
Minho led him to the chair on the right of his own. His was at the head of the table. Duh.
He pulled the chair out for him and Jisung glanced at him before sitting down. He watched Minho pull his own chair out and sit down, "They should be out with the food in a moment."
"I thought vampires only drank blood?"
Minho smiled at him, "You would be correct."
"But they're serving you food?"
"No. The food is for you."
Jisung opened his mouth to respond but he was cut off by a door opening behind Minho. He watched a man wheel a cart towards them. He was tall, with brown hair, wearing what Jisung assumed was a butler suit. He was pale and had a sort of dead look in his eyes. No emotion even though he was smiling.
Creepy.
"Your usual, sir." He placed a bowl in front of Minho and Jisung could see that it was…blood. Minho was served a bowl of blood.
He placed a plate in front of Jisung and he furrowed his brows at the sight of perfectly cooked steak with vegetables on the side. "Enjoy." The man said, wheeling the cart back into what Jisung assumed was the kitchen. Who was making this? Where did they even get steak?
"That was Jeongin." Minho spoke up, shoving the corner of a napkin into the neckline of his shirt, "He's my butler. Chan is the cook, and Won-hee is the housekeeper. Nice bunch of people, really."
Suddenly, Jisung realized something.
"Wait, what's your name?" Minho smiled at him, "Lee Minho." He picked up his spoon and dipped it into the bowl, bringing it to his mouth after and closing his eyes. He opened them to see Jisung staring at him, "Aren't you going to eat?"
Jisung hesitated. Minho noticed. "It's not poisoned, if that's what you're worried about." He gestured to the plate of food, "Please. Eat."
Jisung grabbed his knife and his fork, glancing at Minho again before cutting into his steak. Minho watched him cut it, and stab the small piece with his fork. He hesitantly brought it to his mouth but ate it.
It was cooked beautifully. It practically melted in his mouth and he tried not to show it but the way he closed his eyes and pinched his brows together gave it away.
"Good, right? Chan's a prodigy in the kitchen." Minho drank another spoonful of his blood-soup and Jisung didn't even care because he was too busy scarfing down his steak.
They ate in silence. The only noises filling the air being cutlery against ceramic and the sound of Jisung's shoe tapping against the floor from how much he loved the steak. It was really good.
After a few minutes, he noticed Minho getting impatient with the spoon and eventually set it down and pick the entire bowl up to drink straight from it. He watched a drop of blood drip down his chin and onto the napkin in his shirt, staining it red. When Minho set the bowl back down, the white cermaic was stained red and he sat back with a sigh.
He licked his lips and Jisung hated how attractive he found it, "Sorry about that," He cleared his throat, "It's hard to use spoons with fangs." As he spoke, Jisung could see how red his teeth were, "Enjoy your steak?" Jisung nodded, watching Minho lick his lips again but miss the line of blood down his chin. Jisung gestured to his own chin, "You've got a little…"
Minho furrowed his brows and touched the area that Jisung was gesturing to, "Oh." He pulled the napkin from his shirt and wiped his finger clean before wiping his face off, "Apologies." He let out a light laugh but Jisung just nodded.
Jeongin came back with the cart to take their dishes. "Dessert?" Minho asked. Jisung looked back and forth between Minho and Jeongin before shaking his head, "No, thank you." Minho nodded and looked at Jeongin, "Tell Chan not tonight."
Jeongin bowed his head, "Yes, sir." He walked back to the kitchen, taking the cart of dishes with him.
"You should go to sleep soon, no?" Minho looked at Jisung, who furrowed his brows, "I thought vampires were nocturnal?"
Minho smiled, "We are, but I was talking about you, Jisung. Humans aren't nocturnal."
"Oh." Jisung blinked a few times like an idiot, but Minho just smiled and stood up, "Come on." He walked around to Jisung and pulled his chair out, holding a hand out for him afterwards, "I'll walk you up there."
Minho was being suspiciously nice. Jisung was skeptical but took his hand anyway.
For someone who's (most likely) the cause of five different kids going missing, Minho was being very nice to him. Well, maybe they weren't all Minho's fault…or maybe Jisung really was special. Different, just like Minho had told him.
His parents always told him not to talk to strangers but look how that turned out. The one time he did, it ended up with him being taken to bed by a vampire. A vampire for crying out loud.
His friends were never gonna believe this, if Jisung would ever see them again. Probably not, but at least he wasn't dead.
Right?
Plus, right now his friends were probably telling police about the door shutting in front of him and telling them that he was still alive and he needed to be saved. Maybe he would wake up tomorrow to police at the door and they would escort him out and bring him home and Minho would get arrested for causing all of those disappearences.
But…something inside Jisung is sad at the thought of Minho getting arrested. Some part of him doesn't want that to happen, which was weird cause isn't that supposed to be his first instinct? Think of an escape plan, find his way out, tell the police, watch Minho get arrested.
That's what he thought, but for some reason the faint feeling in his stomach is telling him that no, he doesn't actually want that. But he pushed it away because it's not about what he wants. It's about what he needs to survive.
He definitely wasn't making any move to escape though.
Minho opened his door for him again and stood in the doorway as Jisung walked to the bed and sat down on the edge, looking back up at Minho hesitantly.
"Sleep tight, Jisung." Minho smiled that same smile that showed off his pointy teeth. The same one that Jisung had found himself searching for without even realizing it, "Wait, what about you?"
"What about me?"
Jisung shrugged, tracing patterns into the silk underneath him, "What're you gonna do while I'm asleep?" Minho just kept smiling, "I can't tell you. It's a secret." Jisung's posture deflated but Minho spoke up again, this time softer, "Goodnight, Jisung."
He didn't wait for a response before closing the door behind him, leaving Jisung alone in the cold, candle-lit room. This was when reality finally crashed on him.
He was alone, away from his friends and family, in a dark, creepy mansion with an even creepier man who could kill him in his sleep. He hugged himself, feeling his bottom lip start to wobble. He was scared. He was so scared.
Suddenly, he started missing his mother. He flopped onto his side, hugging the pillow under his head and wishing that he would wake up and see his mother at the foot of the bed like she always was.
College was such a stupid idea. He didn't even want to go, he just did it to make her happy. If he didn't go, maybe he wouldn't be here.
He cried himself to sleep by accident.
He didn't mean to fall asleep, but crying makes him sleepy and his eyelids slowly got heavier, even when he tried to fight it.
Day 2
Jisung woke up to sunlight spilling in through the glass window, and for a second, he thought he was back at his dorm. But his bed in his dorm doesn't have silk sheets, and it sure as hell isn't freezing cold because Changbin always has the heat turned up even after Jisung tells him to stop.
He slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the sunlight before sitting up slowly. His head hurts and his mouth is dry. His hair is a mess but he just smoothed it down absentmindedly, looking around to try and remember where he was.
Oh. Right. Vampire's house. He had hoped it was a dream.
He fell back with a groan, realizing once again how much of an idiot he was. Fifty bucks was not worth any of this.
There was a knock at his door, and he hesitantly mumbled a "come in". Jeongin walked in with a tray of food and that same smile from the night before. Jisung sat up on instinct.
"Good morning," Jeongin set the tray over his lap, "How'd you sleep?" Jisung blinked, looking down at the tray. Pancakes, bacon, and the fluffiest eggs he's ever seen with a cup of apple juice. He was grateful for that because he hated orange juice. It made his throat feel weird.
"Good." Jisung responded quietly, and he wasn't lying. He woke up with a headache but he slept pretty well. Usually he wakes up every now and then, but he was dead asleep. It was weird.
Jeongin smiled, "Good. When you're finished with breakfast, Won-hee will give you a tour of the house." Jisung tilted his head a bit, "Where's Minho?"
"Asleep. He doesn't like to be disturbed, so please try to be quiet."
Jisung nodded slowly and Jeongin pulled something out from behind his back that Jisung swears wasn't there before, "He told me to give you this, as well." He held out a journal and Jisung accepted it with two hands. It was brown leather, aged, just like the pages inside. There was a strap around it to keep it closed and a pencil laying inside.
"Enjoy your meal." Jeongin said with a bow and he turned to leave. Jisung watched him go, only looking away when the door closed behind him softly.
Jisung looked down at the journal in his hands, flipping it over. It was nice leather. Expensive, probably. He moved the strap and opened it to the first page, but a note slipped out and fell into his lap. It was written in elegant cursive. Definitely Minho's handwriting.
"For you, Jisungie."
He smiled at the note without realizing and set both the note and the journal next to him on the bed. He looked at the plate of food and sighed. He didn't want to trust it, but he had no choice, so he picked up the fork and started eating.
Everything was cooked to perfection. It took everything in him to not groan after every bite.
When he finished eating, he washed everything down with the apple juice that was surprisingly still cold and set the tray to the side.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed but jumped when his feet touched the cold hardwood floor, even through his socks. He approached the old desk along one of the side walls and sat down, placing the journal in front of him.
He just stared at it for awhile. He should write in it— that's what Minho wants him to do— but he still doesn't know Minho. Why should he do what he wants?
But, then again, Minho gifted him a very pretty journal instead of what Jisung thought he was going to do. He could be dead right now but instead he was staring at a brown leather journal and the pencil that came with it.
This whole thing still felt like a dream. He didn't even know vampires were real. He kinda felt like he was in a movie, and that made him feel a little cool, but then he remembered how movies with vampires usually ended.
The protaganist getting bit.
He doesn't want that. He likes being a human. He likes being alive.
Minho probably did too though.
He shook his head and picked up the pencil, opening the journal to the first page. He didn't really know what to write at first.
Dear diary,
No. Too childish.
Dear
He sighed, staring at the scribbled out words on the page. He shook his head again and decided to just start with the date, so in case he loses his mind or dies, anyone who's stupid enough to take his place will know when it happened.
2/26/26
I don't really know what to write.
I'm locked in this place, so…that's fun, but at least the guy who trapped me here is kinda hot. Right?
I hope he doesn't read this while I sleep.
This place is kinda creepy but it's better than being in class. I kinda miss my stuff though, like my guitar. And my teddy bear. And my friends, but now they can't call me chicken anymore.
They probably think I'm dead. They should come looking for me soon though.
I'm a lot less scared of everything than I thought I would be- or that I'm supposed to be. The food is really good and Minho is a good host. Jeongin's cool too. Just hope they don't kill me in my sleep.
I think having a camera would be pretty cool too, the cats here are really cute. They're kinda fat too. The best kind of cat.
I want my phone.
Should I write my own name? What if I go crazy and forget it?
- Jisung
He glanced over everything he wrote before setting the pencil down and closing the journal. He stood from the chair and streched, feeling all of his joints pop uncomfortably.
He wanted to go explore, but would they get mad? They probably wouldn't, if Won-hee wanted to give him a tour anyway. He should probably go find her.
The floor creaked as he walked, it hurt his ears but something about it was almost comforting. He poked his head out of the door, making sure the coast was clear before stepping out. The rest of the house was quiet— the only thing he could hear was him walking. Loud ass.
He looked over the stair railing and didn't see or hear anyone, so instead of seeking them out, he retreated back to his room because they still scared him a little. Not a little— but not a lot either. It was weird.
He put his hand on the knob of his door but stopped himself and glanced at the two doors at the very end of the hallway. They looked just like his, even the knobs were the same, but something felt different about them. Intimidating.
He had a sudden urge to find out what was behind them. So, because he's an idiot, he tip-toed towards the door, doing his best to make as little noise as possible. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was watching him before turning the right knob and cracking the door open. It wasn't as creaky as his, but it still made enough noise for him to wince.
This was stupid. This is stupid. He shouldn't be doing this. But the urge was strong, and before he knew it, he was stepping into the room and closing the door behind him softly.
The inside of the room was…not what he was expecting.
A large coffin sat in the middle of the room on a raised platform with three small steps leading up to it. The two large windows on the far wall were boarded up with wooden planks, but sunlight still spilled through the thin cracks and that tiny bit of sunlight was the only light in the room.
There was nothing else in the room. Just the coffin— but there were a few unlit candles in the corners, sitting in very tall stands. Just like the ones in his room.
He approached the coffin quietly, trying to keep the creaking to a minimum. The coffin was dark wood— so dark it almost looked black— but it was polished and obviously well taken care of. There was a cross carved into the lid and Jisung brushed his fingers over it.
No dust. Of course not.
He took a deep breath and lifted the lid just enough to peek inside, but it was too dark, so he used all of his strength to lift it all of the way.
Jisung's breath hitched at the sight of Minho.
He was in the same outfit as earlier, and his hair was styled the same, but his expression was so peaceful. His arms were crossed over his chest, but Jisung didn't see his chest rise or fall. Of course he wouldn't, vampires don't have breath, but even without the minor action, Minho still looked relaxed.
Jisung's finger twitched with the urge to reach out, but then he furrowed his brows because that was weird. He shouldn't feel like that— but his pale skin looked soft, and Jisung wondered what his skin really felt like. He noticed the small beauty mark above Minho's left nostril. It was so small that it almost looked like a freckle.
It was kind of cute.
Jisung shook his head at himself and reached up to close the lid of Minho's coffin. He snuck one more glance, smiling without realizing it, and closed it as softly and as quietly as he could.
He tip-toed out the same way he did when he came in, shutting the door behind him softly and retreating back to his room for real this time.
He sat back down at his desk and opened the journal to the second page with a deep breath.
2/26/26
Sneaking into Minho's room was probably the scariest thing I've ever done. No, second scariest. The first is sneaking into this place.
He seemed…peaceful. I almost felt bad for sneaking in there, but I don't really regret anything. As much as I can't help but feel like I shouldn't be thinking this way, Minho's kind of cute.
I feel oddly safe around him— which is funny considering his…predicament, but he's been nice. He hasn't killed me (yet), so hopefully he keeps me alive because I would prefer that. He served me food. Steak, specifically. Steak that was cooked beautifully.
He wouldn't serve me that nice of food if he planned to kill me, right?
I feel bad for thinking the worst, but I can't help it. For some reason, I find myself hoping he wakes up soon so I can see him again in a way that's not me just staring like a creep. He's interesting to talk to. Nice to be around, in a way.
I wonder what dinner will be tonight. I've been craving pork belly all day.
- Jisung
In the bottom right corner of the page, he left a small, messy sketch of vampire fangs.
The sun had finally almost finished setting, and Jisung leaned his head against the cool glass of his window, just watching life go on without him.
His friends hadn't come back. No cop cars showed up. Nobody had come back for him— but he sighed and told himself that they'll just be a little longer than he had hoped.
Minho's house was cold, but not unbearingly so. It was the kind of cold that you would expect from a house full of the undead. He shivered at the slightest gust of wind through the cracks in the windows, but he kind of liked it. It was a nice change of pace from the temperature his roommate always kept the dorm at.
He watched the tree branches tremble in the wind, and if he turned his head just enough, he could see a few kids playing hopscotch down the street.
He sighed again, but this one was more out of boredom.
And, as if he could read Jisung's mind, a knock sounded and his door and Jisung turned to see Minho in the doorway. Minho smiled at him, "Hungry?"
Jisung blinked a few times before nodding and glancing towards the window once more. He pushed himself off of the wall and followed Minho downstairs.
"How are you settling in?" Minho asked with a glance over his shoulder in Jisung's direction. Jisung just shrugged, "I don't know. Still feels…weird, I guess."
Minho smiled, "That's to be expected. Not everyone can say they spent the night at a vampire's house, can they?" Jisung shook his head but didn't respond verbally. "Did Jeongin give you the journal?" They made it to the dining room and Minho pulled Jisung's chair out for him the same way he did last night. Jisung sat and nodded, "Yes. Thank you."
Minho waved a hand in the air and sat in his own seat, right at the head of the table, "It was nothing." He looked at Jisung with a smile, and somehow, Jisung could tell it was genuine.
"I want you to enjoy yourself here, Jisung."
Jisung gulped, suddenly weak at the tone of Minho's voice. It was sincere. Genuine. He wanted what was best for Jisung, and even after the very little time they've spent together, Jisung could tell that he meant what he said. He nodded, "I'll try." Jisung gave him a weak smile, but that seemed to be enough for Minho.
A few seconds later, Jeongin came out with the same metal cart from last night and placed their dishes in front of them. Blood for Minho, and plate of spaghetti for Jisung. The sauce was a deep red and there was cheese sprinkled over the noodles that laid in a perfect swirl.
"Enjoy." Jeonin said with the same smile and the same bow of his head as always before returning behind the door with the squeaky metal cart.
Minho reached for the spoon and Jisung could see his hesitance. So he spoke up.
"You don't have to use the spoon. I don't…I don't mind."
Minho blinked a few times before nodding slowly and pulling his hand away, "Alright." He grabbed the sides of the bowl and licked his lips. Jisung's gaze followed the action.
He picked up his own fork and twirled it in his spaghetti, bringing it to his mouth. Minho watched him eat, and he watched Jisung lick away the bit of sauce on the corner of his mouth. He gulped and returned his attention to his own food.
He brought the bowl to his lips and drank, barely taking a breath. He only ate twice a day, but Jisung was only awake for one.
Jisung ate slowly, much too focused on Minho chugging his "soup". The way his throat moved, the small drop of blood that escaped the corner of his mouth. Him licking it away as he set the bowl back down. He was panting slightly, and Jisung swallowed around nothing.
"Enjoying the show?" Minho asked with a quirked brow. Jisung sat up straighter and blinked, snapping himself out of the trance he was in, "Sorry." He twirled his fork in his spaghetti again but Minho just smiled, "You don't need to apologize. I can't imagine something like this is easy for you to get used to."
"Something like what?"
"The whole vampire thing? Surely this must creep you out?"
Jisung moved the noodles around in his plate, fidgeting almost nervously as he considered his next words carefully, "Well…it does, but it could be worse, I guess. I mean, I'm just glad you haven't killed me. Yet." He whispered the last word and glanced up at Minho to see his reaction, but Minho was just looking at him. "Why do you think I would kill you?"
Jisung shrugged, "A bunch of kids went missing here, and don't vampires need human blood? Plus, your house is…dark."
Minho smiled and grabbed Jisung's hand, turning to him in his seat slightly, "Jisung, I would never kill you." Jisung looked into his eyes as he spoke and he was shocked by how genuine the look in his eyes was, "You're different, Jisung-ah. Special. For as long as I live, I would never even think to lay a finger on you." His grip on Jisung's hand tightened and Jisung gulped.
"Don't vampires live forever?"
Minho smiled, "That's the point, Jisung."
He wouldn't say it was love— of course not, they only met yesterday— but Jisung wouldn't doubt the warm feeling settling in his stomach at Minho's words. He nodded and gave Minho a small smiled, "Thank you…I think."
Minho smiled and let go of his hand, and Jisung wanted to reach for his hand back but he stopped himself because that was weird. "Now," Minho gestured to his plate, "Finish your food. You can't go to sleep on an empty stomach, can you?"
Jisung shook his head and twirled his fork in his noodles again, bringing it to his mouth. His cheeks puffed up and Minho thought it was the cutest thing. Like a hamster. Minho smiled to himself at the thought.
Jisung licked his lips clean of extra sauce when he swallowed his final bite. He gave Minho a small smile, "It was delicious. Thank you." Minho smiled at him, leaning his chin against his palm, "No need to thank me. I'm simply taking care of my guest."
Minho stood and circled Jisung's chair, pulling it out and holding his hand out the same way he did last night, "Let me walk you to your room?"
Jisung took his hand and stood, letting Minho push his chair back in and lead him up the same spiral staircase.
Minho stood in his doorway again and watched him peel his hoodie off, "Jisung?"
Jisung looked over at him. Minho shifted his weight onto the other foot, "I know this place can be quite scary, but I wouldn't let anything hurt you. You know that, don't you?"
Jisung nodded. Even though they've known each other for a little over forty-eight hours by now, Jisung knew that Minho meant what he said. He didn't take him as the type to lie, even if he is a vampire.
Not all vampires are evil. Atleast, Jisung hopes so.
"I know." Jisung whispered, and Minho smiled at him from his spot in the doorway, "Goodnight, Jisung."
"Goodnight, Minho."
Minho closed the door behind him, leaving Jisung alone in the cold, candle-lit room. He listened to Minho's soft footsteps fade before taking a deep breath. He slipped his shoes off and fell back onto the bed with a huff, slowly readjusting himself to be underneath the blanket.
What the hell had he gotten himself into?
It's not like Minho was making him uncomfortable— it was the opposite actually— but the whole situation just seemed so crazy to him. A vampire? An actual, real-life, in his face vampire? He still couldn't believe it.
But even past the whole vampire thing, Minho was sweet. He kept Jisung fed, and warm, and comfortable. He even got him a journal. He reminds Jisung that he's special. Different from the others.
Jisung's heard that before, but not in the way Minho had said it. He was almost romantic about it, holding onto his hand and looking deep into his eyes. Jisung almost fell for him right then, but he didn't, because Minho is a vampire and they've only known each other for two days.
He should probably give it atleast a week.
Or he just shouldn't be thinking like that at all. Because that was weird.
Day 3
Jisung woke up to a knock at his door, and a little bit of drool drying at the corner of his mouth. He mumbled a "come in" and rubbed a hand down his face, forcing himself to sit up when he spotted Jeongin at the door carrying another tray of breakfast.
"Goodmorning," Jeongin said with a smile, placing the tray over Jisung's lap, "I trust you slept well?"
Jisung nodded and looked down at the tray. Today's breakfast was miso soup with tofu and a soft-boiled egg with a side of rice. Jisung immediately woke up at the smell.
"Chan has also prepared chocolate chip muffins. They're downstairs in the kitchen if you would like one." He bowed his head, "Enjoy your meal." He left and shut the door behind him softly. Jisung was still too tired to produce full, coherent sentences, but he picked up the spoon made of gold instead of silver and dipped it into the soup.
As soon as the liquid hit his tongue, he swears his toes curled for a second. It was made perfectly and it was so warm, he felt it slide down his throat and settle in his tummy. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought back a moan at just how good it was. The rice was fluffy and soft, and so was the tofu.
He ate his food as fast as he could, barely taking a breath in between bites, which he regretted after because now he had a minor tummyache. But it wasn't unbearable.
He laid back and huffed, laying a hand over his stomach. He glanced up and noticed something sitting on his desk, right on top of his journal.
A camera.
An older one, with film strips, but it was still a camera.
He set the tray to the side and stood from the bed, walking towards the desk. The was another note, this time it was next to the camera.
"So you can take pictures of the cats"
In that same cursive handwriting. It was from Minho. Again.
But then he realized that he never mentioned wanting a camera, or wanting to take pictures of the cats last night at dinner. He had only written it in his journal.
Had Minho read his journal?
Jisung shook his head— there was no way. Would Minho really invade his privacy like that? Perhaps it was just a lucky guess.
He picked up the camera and flipped it around. It was old, no doubt. The words "Kodak 35" were engraved into the silver underneath the pop-up viewfinder. He fiddled with it until something he twisted on the bottom opened up the back, and he slid it off and set it on the desk. Minho was nice enough to load the film for him. Jisung was grateful for that. He wouldn't know how to load film into a camera even if he was held at gunpoint.
He slid the back on and twisted the thing on the bottom to keep it in place. He messed around with it for a bit longer but he still couldn't figure a single thing out so he set it back down on the desk with a huff, opting to wait for Minho to help him instead.
He left his room but made sure to stay quiet. He didn't want to wake Minho up with all of the creaking. Honestly, he wonders how Minho hasn't gone insane from every inch of the house creaking every second of the day.
Even though he knows he shouldn't— and that he shouldn't risk disturbing him— he tip-toed towards Minho's room again anyway, clutching his journal and his pencil to his chest like they would disappear.
He shut the door behind him and approached the coffin, holding his pencil in his mouth as he lifted the lid. He let out a breath, looking down at Minho's peaceful expression and the way his arms were crossed over his chest just like yesterday.
Jisung grabbed the pencil from his mouth and let out a breath, keeping an eye on Minho as he flipped to a free page in his journal. If books and movies told him anything, it's that vampires are rendered pretty much useless during the day, even if the suns not on them, so he had a good amount of time to do this. If the others didn't catch him.
He glanced around and grabbed a chair that was sitting in the corner, pulling it up to the coffin. He sat down and took a deep breath, finally letting his pencil touch the page.
Jisung had always wanted to be an artist, but his parents never saw art as a real job. They were traditional in that sense. But, Jisung always wanted to keep them happy, so instead of pursuing his own dreams, he pursued his parents dream and applied for med school.
He got accepted, but his parents were more excited than he was. He was hoping they would reject him so he could make the excuse that he just wasn't cut out for college and they would let him do what he really wanted to.
Things never had a habit of working out in his favor.
The sound of his pencil stroking against the aged paper of his journal was somewhat satisfying. He hadn't heard that sound in what felt like ages— too focused on studying for tests and memorizing medical terms he could never remember.
He paid attention to every little detail. Minho's eyelashes, the beauty mark above his left nostril, the tips of his fangs poking out. Each ruffle of his collar and each fold of his sleeve cuffs. Each thread in the design of his vest.
He glanced up at Minho and back down at his page repeatedly, making sure every detail was perfect.
Minho was beautiful— he is beautiful. The kind of beauty that you can't just look at. It sticks with you, follows you everywhere. Minho's beauty had broken Jisung's art block and finally inspired him to put pencil to paper again. That wasn't something Jisung took lightly.
Minho had the kind of beauty that you would only see in old portraits, or paintings. The kind that you can't help but draw. Jisung sure couldn't.
He stopped drawing, looking down at the paper and back up at Minho, making sure it was as accurate as possible. But just as he moved to correct something, he heard a grandfather clock sound. He jumped, startled at the loud noise and looked around in a panic just to see the large grandfather clock sitting against the wall he was facing. He's honestly not sure how he missed that.
He was about to relax and continue his drawing, but then he heard footsteps and saw Minho's eyebrows pinch. His stomach dropped. Was he waking up? How much time had passed?
Had he really been in here for that long?
He grabbed his journal and his pencil and shut the coffin lid quickly but softly before rushing out, completely forgetting about the chair he had pulled over, or the fact that the floor creaked with each step he took.
He managed to make it back to his room just in time for Jeongin to get to the top of the stairs and not noticed that Jisung had come from Minho's room. Hopefully Minho didn't notice that he was in there either.
He tossed his journal back on the desk and left his signature in the bottom right corner of his drawing, marking the time next to it.
"Lee Minho - 9:00pm"
He closed the journal softly and set the pencil on top of it, walking backwards until the back of his knees hit his bed and he fell down, landing with a small "oof!"
His heart was still beating way too fast, and he's still preparing for the moment Minho knocks on his door and yells at him for interrupting his slumber. But that never happened.
When Minho knocked on his door, it wasn't to yell at him.
"Dinner's being prepared. Will you join me?"
Jisung sat up, holding himself up on his hands and he nodded, "Yeah, I just need a minute…please." Minho nodded, "Of course." He shut the door softly and left Jisung alone. Jisung let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.
He sat up properly and rubbed a hand down his face, taking a deep breath. He didn't care what dinner was tonight. He just really did not want Minho to ask if he was in his room.
Jisung is a horrible liar. Like world-record bad. Changbin always teased him about it.
He left his room and walked downstairs slowly, peeking into the dining room before entering. Minho was sitting in his seat, taking a slow sip of his wine before looking up and spotting Jisung.
"I was wondering when you would be down." He stood and pulled Jisung's chair out, staying behind it until Jisung sat down so he could push it back in.
"Did you enjoy your breakfast?" Minho looked at Jisung, giving him his full attention. That only made Jisung more nervous. He nodded, "Yes. It was good."
"Just good?" Minho teased, "Not delicious? Scrumptious? The cat's meow, even?" He hummed, "Chan must've lost his spark."
Jisung let out a soft laugh, "I understood like…half of that sentence." Minho smiled and waved his hand, "You'll learn soon enough." The door behind Minho opened and Jeongin wheeled that same cart out like always.
Tonight's dinner was salmon with asparagus. The smell hit his nose before he could even process what was on the plate, but he felt his stomach growl as soon as his eyes landed on it. Minho had the same bowl of "soup" that he always did.
"Enjoy." Jeongin said with a smile and a slight bow, wheeling the cart back into the kitchen.
Dinner was quiet like usual, but Minho spoke up after a few moments, "Were you in school at all?" He asked, placing his bowl back on the placemat and licking his lips. Jisung swallowed his bite of salmon and blinked a couple times, "Yeah. Why?"
Minho shrugged, "Just curious." He took a sip of his wine and looked at him, "I want to get to know you, Jisung." Jisung licked his lips and set his fork down, "Well, I was in med school."
"What field?" Minho gave Jisung his full attention, and Jisung shifted nervously.
"Neurosurgery." Minho's eyebrows shot up for just a second but Jisung continued, "My mom was studying it but then she got pregnant with me. She wanted me to study it instead."
Minho studied Jisung's face for a long, hard moment before asking another question.
"Do you like it?"
"I- what?"
"Do you like studying neurosurgery? Forgive me if I'm being rude, but it doesn't sound like that's what you wanted to study."
Jisung blinked a few times, "Well…no, it's not. But it made my parents happy, so I did it anyway."
"That was a sweet thing of you, Jisung, but what did you really want to study?" He took another sip of his wine and watched as Jisung fidgeted with his fingers, still shifting nervously, "Art." He whispered.
"What kind of art?"
"The painting kind. I even had a few courses picked out, but my mom found them and got mad, so I went into neurosurgery to save us all from the drama." Minho hummed, "I've always taken a liking to the arts. Who's your favorite artist?"
"Monet. I always liked his style."
"Favorite painting of his?"
Jisung glanced up at the ceiling in thought, "The Magpie. A close second is probably… Springtime." Minho smiled, "I see you have good taste. I'm sure your works are just as good, no?"
Jisung huffed out a laugh but he was smiling the whole time, his cheeks a faint pink from Minho's words, "I don't know about that. I haven't painted in years, let alone even sketch something."
"That doesn't mean that you can't still paint." Jisung opened his mouth to respond but Minho beat him to it, "If I asked you to paint me something, would you do it?" Jisung smiled and shook his head a bit, "I don't know, Minho. Really, I haven't touched a paintbrush in years, and I was never that good in the first place-"
"Nonsense. I don't have to see them to know that your paintings were museum-worthy. I have a knack for that sort of thing, you know?"
Jisung smiled but he didn't respond. He was still processing Minho's praise.
"Finish your food," Minho changed the subject, "I'm sure you're getting tired?" Jisung sat up a bit straighter and picked his fork back up, "Oh. Yeah. Sorry."
Jisung plopped down onto the bed with a huff, turning his gaze towards Minho who was standing cross-armed in the doorway like always, leaning his shoulder against the wooden frame.
"Goodnight, Jisung."
Jisung looked at him for a few seconds. He had a question on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down and gave Minho a small smile instead, "Goodnight, Minho."
Minho smiled and shut the door behind him as he left, leaving Jisung alone.
He sighed and laid back, shimmying his way up to his pillows. He was about to fall asleep but suddenly he shot up and rushed towards his desk, sitting down and flipping his journal open at the same time.
2/27/26
Todays breakfast was miso soup with a side of rice. Chan even put tofu AND a soft-boiled egg in it. It's like he knew…
Me and Minho talked about art during dinner. He asked me what I was studying, then he asked who my favorite artist was. Maybe Monet is his favorite too. It would be cool to have something in common with him.
I haven't drawn in awhile, but I managed to do some earlier. Well, "some" is an understatement because I was actually there for hours without even realizing it. I hope Minho didn't realize either. That was so scary.
But Minho is very pretty when he sleeps. He has the kind of face that you can't not draw. I haven't met someone like that since…well, ever actually. He has such unique features. Ones that should be remembered and displayed, even if he is a creature that'll live forever.
No, he's not a creature. He's just Minho— the fangs and nocturnal habits are just a bonus.
I wonder if he can turn into a bat too.
- Jisung
He shut his journal and placed the pencil on top before finally diving into bed and pulling the covers up to his nose. He was so cold, but it was a good cold because it meant that he got to ball up underneath a blanket and his hoodie.
It was like heaven.
He fell asleep less on edge than he had previously. Still on edge, but not as much as he was yesterday.
Baby steps!
Day 5
It was the same routine as the last couple of days.
Jisung woke up to Jeongin knocking on his door and sat up to watch him walk in with breakfast. Rolled omeletted with a small bowl of sauce to dip them in. Jisung had to close his mouth to stop himself from drooling as Jeongin set the tray over his lap.
"Enjoy your meal." He bowed and walked out. Jisung was really only looking at the food in front of him.
He used to have rolled omelettes all the time as a kid— it was his mothers favorite— but after he moved into his dorm, his breakfast quickly became instant ramen and energy drinks. That was one thing he didn't miss.
At some point, he had stopped wondering when his friends were going to come back for him. It had only been a few days, but was that not enough time? He shook his head and picked up his chopsticks.
It's not like he was suffering here, and sometimes he thinks that if he really had to choose, he would choose to stay here. With Minho. Literally anything is better than med school, but Minho had made him feel so welcome. Made him feel like he belongs in such a short amount of time. He even shares an interest in art, which was a topic that Jisung had never really talked with anyone about.
That meant something to him— their shared love of Monet, and their love of the arts in general.
He sighed and took another bite, practically melting over how fluffy the eggs were. Dare he say they were better than his mother's…you couldn't waterboard that out of him though.
When he finished his food, he set the tray to the side and walked over to his desk, flipping to a blank page. He thought about writing but stopped himself and grabbed the journal and his pencil. He really hopes he doesn't get caught.
He didn't pull the chair up this time, he wouldn't die if he stood. Hopefully not, anyway.
He lifted the coffin lid with a quiet grunt and sighed after. Minho was sleeping and in the same position as always. Of course he was.
Jisung wasted no time putting pencil to paper.
This time it was just individual features. His nose, his lips with the tips of his fangs poking out, his hands with his ruffled sleeve cuffs. He glanced back towards Minho from over the journal again and again, but each time he got lost for a few seconds. Lost in Minho, and just how beautiful he was.
Jisung gulped, forcing his attention back to his drawings. This time, he also paid attention to the grandfather clock looking right at him. Every creak of the floor outside of the room made him jump, but he was determined to finish this.
And he did.
He even signed it in the bottom right corner with the time right next to it.
"Lee Minho - 6:03pm"
Minho had become somewhat of his muse, Jisung had noticed. But having a muse can be difficult when you're only working with one pose.
Would it be weird to ask him to pose? Surely it would be, but then again, Minho had basically asked Jisung to paint something for him. He shook his head as he shut the coffin lid. He'll figure it out later.
He shut the door behind him softly, holding his pencil in his mouth as he tip-toed back to his own room.
He tossed the journal back onto his desk and sat down on his bed with a huff. He was so bored. He glanced at the camera still sitting on his desk and realized that he forgot to ask Minho about it, but he shook his head because a camera that old confused him so bad it almost made him wish he was back in his dorm, hunched over textbooks and flashcards.
He laid back and shimmied himself up against the pillows. He wasn't tired. He shouldn't be tired, he woke up at like three in the afternoon, but he was so warm and so comfortable that he just couldn't stop himself.
He woke up to another knock on his door, but only attempted to get up when the hallway light lit his room up.
"Jisung?" He heard Minho say, but he was still half-asleep so he let out an unintelligible groan. Minho laughed softly, "Wake up. Dinner will be ready soon. You don't want to keep Chan waiting, do you?"
Minho stayed in the doorway, watching Jisung stir slowly and sit up at the pace of a snail. His hair was a mess and one of his eyes was still closed, but he nodded like he understood what Minho was saying. He didn't. He only heard "dinner" and that was it.
Minho smiled and grabbed the doorknob, "Make haste. Chan hates his hard work going cold." He shut the door softly, and Jisung was once again engulfed by the darkness that wasn't actually dark because somehow his candles were always burning once the sun set but he never lights them himself. Maybe Jeongin does it.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, still half-asleep with his hair still messy. He dragged his feet with every step he took, blinking his other eye open. There was still a little bit of drool drying around the corner of his mouth, but he didn't care about that right now. He just wanted to eat.
And he wanted to see Minho, but he would never admit that.
Minho was waiting for him at the table again, but this time he was standing and filling his wine glass. He turned when he heard the floor creak under Jisung's feet behind him and he immediately smiled, "I thought you would've gone back to sleep." Jisung let out a quiet groan but Minho just laughed, "Come sit." He pulled Jisung's chair out and waited for him to sit before pushing it back in.
"How'd you sleep?" Minho asked, taking a sip of his wine but he kept his attention on Jisung in the same way he always did, "Good." Jisung mumbled, his voice low and dry. "Seems like you needed that rest. Do you feel any better?"
Jisung licked his dry lips and nodded, "Yeah, thanks."
"You don't have anything to thank me for, Jisung-ah. I'm just glad you got your beauty-sleep."
The door opened behind Minho before Jisung could respond and Jeongin wheeled out a different cart this time. Bigger.
He gave Minho his bowl first but then placed an empty plate infront of Jisung. He was confused until he saw the rest of the cart. A plate of spicy pork bulgogi, banchan served in multiple small dishes, and a plate with lettuce and perilla leaves. Just for him.
He blinked a few times, just staring at the food in front of him. Speechless.
"Enjoy." Jeongin said, bowing his head and smiling before wheeling the cart back into the kitchen. Jisung didn't look away from the food, not even blinking like it would disappear.
"Is something wrong?" Minho asked with a pinch in his brow. Jisung shook his head, closing his mouth after his jaw had gone slack without him even realizing it, "No…sorry. I just haven't seen food like this in years." He said it with a light laugh but he really wasn't joking.
He didn't dare step foot in the cafeteria of his college. It was overcrowded, overpriced, and the food never looked that good anyway. He hadn't been served food like this in far too long.
Minho smiled, "Well, pig out then. It's all yours."
Jisung glanced at him to make sure he was serious, but once he confirmed that yes, Minho was telling the truth, he wasted no time in picking up his chopsticks and grabbing a leaf of lettuce. He laid two pieces of pork on it but shoved a third into his mouth as he filled the leaf with other foods.
He wrapped it as tight and as small as he could before taking it all in one bite. As soon as he bit down and tasted all of the flavors, he swears his toes curled a little bit. He let out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his brows. Minho laughed at his reaction, "Is it good?" Jisung nodded, still keeping his eyes shut as he chewed, "The cat's meow." He responded, but his voice was muffled around his food.
Minho's smile grew in size at Jisung's words, "I'm glad you like it." He picked his bowl up and brought it to his mouth as Jisung worked on his second wrap. He looked at the wrap in his hands, then up at Minho, then back at the wrap before holding it out in Minho's direction.
Minho looked at the wrap and then at Jisung before licking his lips clean of any blood and shaking his head, "I'm alright, Jisung, really. It's all yours. You don't have to share."
"Can you eat actual food?" His hand was still held out as he waited for Minho to respond, "I can, but I shouldn't. I lack the proper requirements to digest real food, so if I were to eat it…well, not to be crude, but I would vomit."
Jisung hummed, "Even if it's just a bite?"
"Even if it's just a bite. But, that's not to say I don't appreciate the offer, because I do. But I want you to enjoy your food, Jisung."
Jisung looked back down at the wrap in his hand and nodded, "If you're sure…"
Minho smiled, "I'm sure." He picked his bowl up again, putting it to his mouth at the same time Jisung ate his second wrap.
Jisung had really become comfortable in Minho's company. More comfortable than one might think, at least. Minho made him feel welcome. He was funny, and entertaining. Nicer than a lot of people Jisung's met too. He doesn't think anyone's complimented his artwork since he showed his parents his stick-drawings as a kid, but even those seemed fake.
Minho hadn't even seen any of his work, but he still put it on a pedestal like Jisung was a prodigy with a paintbrush.
He wasn't. But Minho's words had made him reconsider his skills just a tad. He could always be worse, he supposes.
When they finished dinner, Minho walked him to bed like he did every night.
"I have a question." Jisung said, stepping backwards a few steps from Minho, who was standing in his doorway. Minho quirked an eyebrow, "I may have an answer."
Jisung chewed the inside of his lip nervously, unsure of how Minho would take this.
"Why do you never come in? You always just stand in the doorway but you never step in any further."
Minho straightened his posture, "Well, you haven't given me an invitation inside."
"I thought that was just for the house in general?"
"It is…but I didn't want to intrude on your personal space. That would be rude of me."
Jisung looked down at his feet then back up at Minho, fidgeting with his fingers, "I don't care if you come in, Minho." He blinked a few times, processing Jisung's words, "I…are you sure?" Jisung nodded, "One hundred percent. I am giving you permission to come into my room. Whenever you want."
Minho stood up straight from where he was leaning against the doorframe and stared at Jisung almost wide-eyed. But then, Jisung held his hand out, beckoning Minho closer. Minho's expression softened and he took Jisung's hands, stepping into his room.
They held eye contact. Deep, intense, almost intimate. At least, that's how it felt.
Minho kept a hold of Jisung's hand but wrapped his other hand around his waist— Jisung's free hand held onto his bicep. Minho pulled him closer, until the tips of Jisung's toes hit Minho's shoes.
Jisung could see just how beautiful Minho was from this close. There were splatters of crimson in his blood-red irises, and his eyelashes were longer than Jisung had originally thought. Minho leaned in suddenly, and Jisung tensed thinking he was going in for a kiss, but he moved further down until the tip of his nose was poking against his neck.
He laid a soft kiss against Jisung's jugular vein, slowly working his way up. His lips were feather-light, and Jisung almost thought it was like a tickle, but he didn't protest. He let Minho move up his neck, and towards his jaw with the same pace and the same intensity— never changing a thing. Moving as if they had all the time in the world. And it really felt like they did.
He nosed at the underside of his jaw, leaving gentle kisses here and there. He kissed the spot under Jisung's ear, but this one wasn't as soft. It wasn't hard either, it was just a regular kiss.
"Thank you, Jisung-ah." He whispered, wrapping his arm around Jisung's waist tighter and pulling him into a hug. His face was in the crook of his neck and Jisung was shocked for a second— but it was just for a second. He hugged back, moving his hand from Minho's bicep to around his shoulder.
They stood like that for a few more seconds, simply basking in each other's presence.
Minho pulled away, moving his hand away from Jisung's waist to brush a strand of hair out of his face and cup his jaw. He placed another feather-light kiss on the point of Jisung's cheekbone and pulled back to look him in the eye again.
"You're perfect."
Jisung swallowed around nothing at his words, and the soft tone of voice he had spoken in made something warm settle in his belly.
But then, Minho stepped back, and Jisung shivered at the loss of contact.
"Goodnight, Jisung."
Jisung forced himself to nod, still processing the last five minutes, "Goodnight, Minho."
Minho gave him a real smile, his fangs poking out slightly, before shutting the door behind himself as softly as he had kissed Jisung.
Jisung, who stood still for a few moments after the door closed, still shocked about what had just happened.
His stomach was warm and the tips of his fingers tingled. Butterflies.
He wanted to feel weird for enjoying that, but he just couldn't. It was Minho, after all. He had been so gentle with him— held him and kissed him like he was glass and would break with too much force. He took a deep breath, ghosting his fingers over where Minho had kissed his cheekbone.
None of this felt real at all. But it was, and Jisung was starting to feel like he wouldn't change it for the world.
3/1/26
I've stopped trying to pinpoint my feelings. By now, I've just let fate take the wheel. I'm simply here for the ride.
Minho kissed me today.
Not on the mouth, even though I kind of really wanted him to. (is that weird?)
He held me so carefully, like I was fragile and would break under too much pressure, and his lips were so soft but I can still feel them lingering against my skin. My fingertips are still tingling.
He hugged me too, and that felt almost personal. Like that was a rare moment of vulnerability from him. I'm not complaining about it though. He gives good hugs— and for a vampire, he smells really good.
He's even more beautiful up close. His eyes, his nose. His lips. All of his features had me in a trance and I just couldn't look away. I lack the vocabulary to put his beauty into the explanation it deserves, but God I want to draw him and paint him and sketch him until my arms fall off.
I've never had a muse before, but I'm glad Minho is my first.
I wonder if he would pose for a drawing for me? That might be a bit awkward to ask for though.
Day 9
Jeongin woke Jisung up with a firm knock and a steaming hot bowl of abalone porridge with sesame seeds on top.
"Enjoy your meal." He said with a bow before turning on his heel and shutting Jisung's door behind him softly.
Jisung melted at the taste of the porridge, and he could feel it slide down his throat and into his tummy. It warmed him right up and he couldn't get enough of that feeling. He practically licked the bowl clean.
Once his belly was full and warm, he laid back against the pillows with a sigh. He wanted to sneak into Minho's room again. He wanted to draw him again— ever since Minho had locked him in this stupid mansion and gifted him that journal, his strong desire to draw until his fingers fell off had paid him another visit, and this time it doesn't seem like it wants to leave.
He sighed again and moved the tray out of his lap before standing and grabbing his journal. There wasn't much else he could do, and Minho wouldn't mind. Probably.
He didn't pull the chair up again, just opened the coffin and stood next to it.
This time, one page had his face— every detail sketched perfectly— and the other had his hands. Jisung liked his hands, but he couldn't explain why. Just a feature of Minho's that he had been naturally drawn towards, he supposed. Like his nose.
Or his lips.
He shook his head and returned his focus back to his drawing. He failed to realize just how late it had gotten.
The grandfather clock chimed and made him jump, and he looked toward the boarded up windows by instinct. The tiny bit of light still peeking through was an indicator that the sun was going down.
Minho was waking up.
Jisung looked back towards the coffin and saw Minho's brows furrow, and he could hear Jeongin's footsteps down the hallway. It was too late, but he tried to leave anyway.
He rushed towards the door and reached for the handle, but just as his fingertips grazed the gold, the door opened and Jeongin's smile dropped at the sight of Jisung.
His expression hardened, "What are you doing in here?" He was holding a tray with one glass on it, full of liquid that Jisung could only assume was blood.
"I- I didn't mean-"
"It's alright, Jeongin."
Jisung whipped his head around to see Minho sitting up and looking directly at him. Jeongin's smile returned as he walked past Jisung and towards Minho, "Of course, sir." He held the tray out and Minho took the glass, drinking the blood in one go. He licked his lips and waved his hand in the air, shooing Jeongin off. Jeongin bowed and turned, shutting the door behind him.
Jisung was left alone with Minho in the one room he subconsciously knew he wasn't supposed to be in. Jeongin had said it himself that Minho doesn't like to be disturbed.
But, Jisung didn't disturb him, it was already time for him to get up. Jisung just happened to be in the room at the same time.
"What are you doing in here?" Minho climbed out of the coffin and approached Jisung in two wide steps, towering over him intimidatingly. Jisung gulped, "I was just…looking around."
Minho glanced down to the open journal pressed against Jisung's chest, "Let me see that." Jisung blinked a few times, "What?"
"Give me your journal."
Jisung hesitated but slowly held it out for Minho to take. He didn't want to give it to him because of how embarrassing the contents were, but Minho didn't seem too happy that Jisung was in his room, so Jisung listened in fear of upsetting him any further.
Minho grabbed the journal from him gently— the complete opposite of what his expression was saying right now. He looked down at the page for a good three seconds before his expression softened and he flipped through the rest of it.
Drawings of him, entries about him. The journal was filled with Minho.
He looked up at Jisung with a glint in his eyes, "Is this all of me?" Jisung nodded stiffly, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment, "I'm sorry." He whispered. Minho furrowed his brows, "Sorry for what?"
Jisung shrugged, fiddling with the pencil still sitting in between his fingers, "For being in here. And drawing you a bunch. It's creepy."
Minho shook his head and looked down at the journal. It was Jisung's first drawing of him, and he looked at every detail Jisung had added. How it looked like a picture copied onto paper. He looked at the signature in the bottom right corner and the words next to it.
"You don't have to apologize, Jisung. These are beautiful." Jisung gulped and watched his eyes move side to side like he was reading something. Because he was. He was reading Jisung's entry from a couple days ago after dinner. After Minho kissed him.
Jisung wanted to rip the wooden planks off of the windows and throw himself out of it.
Minho let out a soft laugh but looked up at Jisung like he held the moon— his expression soft in a way Jisung had never seen before. He gulped and watched Minho close the journal and reach out to brush a strand of hair away from his face.
"You really think that way?"
He didn't have to cite any specific line. Jisung knew he was talking about all of them. He nodded, and Minho smiled and cupped his jaw, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek. Gentle, barely there, but Jisung still felt it.
He pulled back and looked Jisung in the eye for a few seconds before whispering, "No one's ever talked about me that way." He kept his hand against Jisung's cheek, and Jisung rubbed against his palm without meaning to— his cold skin cooling down the fire of his cheeks.
"Really?"
Minho nodded, his thumb rubbing back and forth, "Really. Not even in my wildest dreams." He tilted his head, running his gaze over each of Jisung's features, "You're beautiful, Jisung, you know that? A work of art yourself." Jisung blinked, feeling his face flush at Minho's words. Minho smiled, "Gorgeous," he whispered, "Truly."
Jisung gulped as Minho leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, then the tip of his nose. "All of you," He brushed a strand of hair away from Jisung's face and placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth, just grazing his lips, "Beautiful."
He pulled back and took a deep breath, "I have something to show you."
Jisung blinked a few times, "Me?" Minho nodded, "Come with me." He held onto Jisung's hand but still held the journal with the other and led him out of the room, towards a room that Jisung wasn't even aware existed. "Close your eyes." He said, his hand ghosting over the doorknob. Jisung hesitated but placed his hands over his eyes, letting Minho lead him by his shoulders.
He heard the door open, and he felt Minho guide him a few steps forward before the door shut behind him, "Open."
Jisung dropped his hands slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the lighting difference. It took him a few seconds to process what he was looking at, but then he noticed the easel in the corner with a blank canvas already set up and shelves and tables covered in different kinds of paints and paintbrushes. There were blank canvases against the wall next to the shelves and tarps across the room to protect the floor.
There was even a couch along the wall in front of the canvas, but Jisung would question that later.
"Is this…" He trailed off, feeling Minho squeeze his shoulders almost excitedly. He could practically hear his smile as he talked, "It's all yours, Jisung-ah. Every bit of it."
He turned around, checking Minho's reaction to make sure he was serious. And he was.
"I can't- you- are you sure?"
Minho nodded, his smile never faltering. Jisung got a sudden urge to paint him with this exact expression, but he shoved that feeling deep down.
"Everything in this room is yours to do whatever you want with."
Jisung was still at a loss for words. It was so much to process at once, and Minho noticed his expression, "Come here." He grabbed Jisung's hand again and led him over to the easel. Jisung noticed the table next to it and the stool with a thick cushion and a tall, wooden back.
On the table lay expensive looking oil paints and brushes that weren't stained with paint. They looked brand new, and there were more sizes than Jisung had ever seen. Two inch, inch and a half, one inch— you name it, it was there, all the way down to a detail brush so skinny that he could barely see the bristles.
"Do you like it?" Minho asked, breaking the silence that was mostly Jisung's fault because he was still in shock and processing it all.
"Minho, I…I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, Jisung-ah. Just the knowledge that you'll spend your free time here is enough for me." He positioned himself behind Jisung, running his hands up and down his arms, "You mean a lot to me, Jisung. I lack the words to express my feelings properly, but you really do. I want you to know that."
Jisung swallowed his nerves at the feeling of Minho's lips ghosting over the skin of his neck, "You mean a lot to me too, Minho." His voice was shaky as Minho placed a kiss along his jugular vein, but Jisung could feel his smile against his skin, and it made him crack a faint smile in return.
Minho wrapped his arms around Jisung's waist and spun him around, "Will you make me that painting now?"
The lack of space in-between them made Jisung's breath hitch, but he smiled, "Well, what would you want it of?" Minho smiled at him and brushed a strand of hair away from his face, "Whatever you feel like painting. I just want the honor of hanging it."
Jisung looked at Minho— really looked— and he blinked a few times before opening his big mouth. He couldn't stop himself.
"Can I paint you?"
Minho blinked a few times before smiling, "I would love that. But let's save that for another day, shall we? I'm sure Chan is almost finished with dinner and we shouldn't keep him waiting."
Jisung nodded, shivering when Minho pulled away and walked to the door. He didn't need to turn around to know that Jisung was following him. He just knew.
Dinner went the same as usual. Minho drank the same bowl of blood that he always does while Jisung got some fancy dinner. Tonight was shrimp alfredo with homemade sauce and homemade garlic bread.
They talked about everything and nothing. Art, Jisung's major, a few funny stories from his childhood. Minho never shared any of his own, but Jisung didn't mind. He knew that Minho would open up if he wanted to.
When Minho walked him to bed after dinner, he came into Jisung's room again and sat next to him on the bed.
"I enjoy dinner with you, Jisung. Dare I say that I look forward to it every night."
Jisung turned to look at Minho, who was already looking at him. Jisung smiled and tilted his head to the side just a bit, "I enjoy dinner with you too, Minho." He chewed at the inside of his lip in hesitation before spitting out his next words, "I like being around you."
Minho smiled and Jisung's gaze immediately snapped to the peek of his fangs, "Yeah?"
Jisung nodded, "Yeah."
Minho placed his hand on Jisung's cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth. Jisung leaned into his cool touch subconsciously. Minho looked at him with a sparkle in his eyes that Jisung could only compare to the night sky.
"I know I've said this a million times— and I'll continue to say it a million more— but you're special, Jisung. Truly one of a kind."
Jisung gulped, his knees suddenly weak even though he was sitting down. Minho tilted his head in the opposite direction, "You know that, don't you? How special you are? Especially in my eyes."
Jisung nodded. He was nervous under Minho's intense yet soft gaze, but he loved it. He smiled, "You tell me like, everyday basically."
"And I will continue to do so until my last breath."
"I thought vampires couldn't die?"
"They can, just not of old age. Hell, I'm almost two-hundred years old."
Jisung's eyes widened and Minho laughed at his reaction, "Surprised?" Jisung blinked a few times, still processing what Minho had just told him, "Y-Yeah, a little. Sorry."
"Ah," Minho waved his hand in the air once, "You don't need to apologize. I would react the same in your situation." Jisung smiled and looked down at his lap. Minho's hand suddenly appeared on his thigh, and he stared at the back of his hand like it would disappear.
"Get some sleep, Jisung."
Jisung nodded and Minho patted his thigh a few times before standing. He opened the door but looked back at Jisung, "Goodnight."
Jisung smiled at him, "Goodnight, Minho."
Minho smiled back at him and closed the door behind himself, leaving Jisung alone in his room. Despite Minho's rather chilly body temperature, he still left Jisung feeling warm— both inside and out.
He took a deep breath and pulled his hoodie off before flopping onto the bed with a loud huff.
He sighed, heavy and loud. He didn't know what his feelings toward Minho were. Admiration? Infatuation?
Love?
That kind of scared him a little, but the more he thought about it, the more it didn't sound too crazy.
Minho treated him like an actual person and liked him for him, not whatever stupid major he was studying in a school that he didn't even want to be in.
He made him his own art studio.
No ones ever been that supportive before, and it was all for one painting that Minho had asked of him.
By this point, Jisung's room was full of presents that Minho had gotten him.
Posters, the camera that he still doesn't know how to work, a few stuffed animals that reminded Jisung of Minho just that tiny bit. A bunny, a cat, a teddy bear, and a dog that vaguely resembled the one from his childhood.
Minho paid attention to him. Jisung held that one fact closer to his heart than Minho would ever know.
Day 12
All Jisung could think about was Minho— which explained why he was currently locked in his art studio, messily sketching picture after picture of the same man over, and over, and over again.
Others would call it obsession, Jisung would call it admiration.
He jumped at the sound of the grandfather clock chiming just a couple rooms away, but he ignored it and returned his attention back to his notebook.
Footsteps down the hallway, then the opening and closing of a door. Muffled speaking, a door opening, closing, then more footsteps slowly fading away. He let out a breath and pressed his pencil against the aged paper of his book with more force than he should've. He could practically hear the lead grinding away.
His record player spun in the background, quietly playing the notes of one of the multiple records Minho had gifted him alongside the player itself.
Reverie, L. 68. by Claude Debussy.
Only one of the many songs Minho had introduced him to.
He sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair as he looked down at his drawing. Well, drawings. Plural.
There was one in his book, there were a few scattered around and pinned against the wall above him. He's even painted a portrait of him, but then hid it once it was finished because he got embarrassed.
Minho still had yet to ask Jisung for that painting again, and he hadn't stepped foot in his studio since he had shown it to him. Jisung worries that he had scared him off by asking to paint him, and he probably had. That was his fault.
There was pencil smudged against the side of his palm, and even a little bit on his cheek, but he paid it no mind and put pencil to paper once more. His movements weren't frantic, but they sure as hell weren't slow either.
He felt like he was going insane— constantly clouded with the urge to draw Minho. To paint him. To put his face on every surface he could. In his journal, in his sketchbook, on his canvases. Nobody had ever made him feel this way before. It scared him a little bit, but it wasn't something he fought either. He accepted it.
Why wouldn't he?
Why would he deny the action of drawing one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen in his entire life?
No, not one of. The most beautiful man he had ever seen.
His straight nose, his sharp eyes that hold the softest gaze, the point of his fangs that always poke out. Everything about Minho made Jisung's fingers twitch with the urge to draw him. To display his beauty everywhere for everyone to see.
But not everyone could see it. Not while he was trapped here, at least.
Though, he had stopped calling himself trapped. If Minho held the door wide open and told him that he could walk out right now, he would refuse. He would plant his feet and puff out his chest and tell Minho that he would much rather stay here with him.
Minho would probably smile and pull him into a kiss— soft, despite his fangs.
A gentle knock sounded at the door but Jisung didn't move. He barely even heard it.
Minho cracked the door open and stepped in, shutting the door behind him carefully, so he didn't disturb Jisung. He simply watched him, and glanced around at all of the papers with his features on his. His face, his hands, his fangs that Jisung had found himself particularly fascinated with.
Minho leaned against the door frame and watched Jisung set his pencil down and run a hand through his hair again, staring down at his paper intently. He held it up closer to the plate of candles sitting on the corner of his desk, and that was when Minho noticed what he had been drawing and how stained his hands were.
Jisung huffed and mumbled something to himself with a shake of his head before he relaxed his tense posture and closed his book. He ran a hand down his face, smearing the stains even more than he already had, and he turned.
He yelped when he noticed Minho, holding a hand over his chest, "Jesus Christ!" Minho chuckled and approached him, finally able to get a full view of Jisung's workspace, but he rushed to cover the rest of the drawings, "What are you doing in here?"
Minho raised a brow, "I wanted to see what you were up to. I also wanted to come get you for dinner." Jisung blinked a few times, "Oh." He said, relaxing his posture and running a hand through his hair again, "Thank you." Minho smiled and nodded before turning on his heel and walking towards the door.
Jisung followed him. Of course he did.
Minho pulled his chair out for him at the table like he did every night, and he waited for Jisung to get comfortable before pushing it back in.
Jeongin wheeled the cart out a few moments after Minho sat back down. Blood for Minho, ramen for Jisung. It was loaded with his favorite toppings and it had the perfect amount of broth.
"Um," Jisung cleared his throat, glancing up at Jeongin nervously, "Is this spicy?" Jeongin just smiled and shook his head, "No, sir." Jisung nodded and looked back down at his bowl, listening to the sound of Jeongin retreating back into the kitchen.
"Do you not like spicy foods?" Jisung looked up at Minho who was shoving a napkin into the neckline of his shirt. Jisung shook his head, "I can't handle spice very well. The last time I had spicy ramen, I ended up crying. Not on purpose either, that's just how bad my spice tolerance is."
Minho hummed and nodded, "I've never really liked spicy foods either. I always preferred salty foods, I think."
"You think?"
Minho shrugged, "Hard to remember when I've been drinking blood my entire life." Jisung huffed, "That's fair."
Jisung wasted no time in dipping his chopsticks into his ramen and twirling them around. Minho watched him take a bite, and he smiled when he noticed his cheeks puff up.
They both ate in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. Plus, Jisung found it rather difficult to talk with his mouth stuffed full of ramen.
When they finished eating, and Minho walked Jisung back to his room, Jisung paused in his doorway. Minho gave him a puzzled look as he turned around to face him. Jisung fidgeted with his fingers for a few moments before clearing his throat and speaking up.
"Can I paint you now?"
Minho blinked a few times, but then his expression shifted into something soft, and Jisung's bout of nervousness slowly dissolved.
"Is that really what you want?"
He approached Jisung, wrapping his arms around his waist to hold him closer, but he held eye contact. Jisung nodded, slightly caught off guard by Minho's actions. "I do. I really want to."
Minho's finger twitched against the fabric of Jisung's hoodie— a new one that Minho had gifted him— and Jisung noticed a flash of hesitation in his eyes that left as quickly as it appeared.
"Do you…not want me to?" Jisung asked, his voice soft and close to a whisper. Minho pinched his eyebrows together and shook his head, "No, Jisung, of course I do. It's just…" He brushed a strand of hair away from Jisung's face and sighed, but his almost tense expression shifted, and suddenly he was smiling, "It's nothing. If it makes you happy, then I would happily partake."
Jisung wanted to push, but he didn't, so he smiled back at him, "Good." He hesitated for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around Minho and pulling him into a hug. Minho was cold, yet somehow, he still warmed Jisung up.
Jisung couldn't tell if it was his own body heat doubling from how nervous he was, or if Minho was just magic like that. Probably both, if he was honest.
They stayed like that for a few more moments before Jisung pulled away— still smiling, despite his nerves. Minho smiled too.
"Shall we go?" Minho asked, his tone gentle. Jisung nodded, but didn't say anything.
They held hands as they walked down the hallway to Jisung's studio, but separated once the door closed behind them so Jisung could set everything up.
He started with the small couch along the wall, "You can sit however you want." He gestured to the couch as he grabbed one of the candle-stands in the corner, moving it closer to the couch for better lighting. Minho sat on one of the farther cushions and he draped his arm over the armrest. Jisung got a perfect view of his side profile. It was more 3/4 but whatever.
Then he set up his supplies. He pulled his hoodie off and folded it neatly before setting it on the opposite end of the couch, missing the way Minho watched his every move. Especially when his shirt rode up just a tad and exposed a sliver of his soft stomach.
He muttered to himself as he lined up his brushes perfectly, making sure they were all straight even though that wouldn't matter in five minutes.
"Are you always this tedious with your preparation?" Minho asked, smirking at him from the couch. Jisung scoffed but there was a hint of a smile playing at his mouth, "Well…no. I'm just nervous."
"Why? Shouldn't I be the nervous one?"
Jisung shrugged, finally cracking a small smile, "I don't know. I assume you've done this before, but I haven't. I just don't want to mess this up." Minho smiled, "I haven't done this before either, Jisung-ah."
Jisung seemed shocked at that but he tried not to let it show, "Really?" Minho nodded, "You haven't noticed the lack of portraits around the house?"
Jisung doesn't miss the way Minho said "the house" instead of "my house", implying that this was his house too. He swallowed around nothing, "I just assumed it was an interior design choice." He's lying. He never noticed. He was too busy thinking about Minho to notice what paintings he had hung.
"Not a choice that I wanted, but beggars can't be choosers, I suppose."
Jisung turned his body half-way toward the record player sitting in the corner, "Music?" Minho nodded and watched Jisung quietly sift through his small record collection.
Jisung smiled as he pulled one of his favorites out. Unironically, he very much enjoyed the soundtrack to the Titanic movie.
"Have you ever watched the Titanic?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at Minho as he placed the needle in the perfect spot for the first song to start playing. It was one of his favorites. The first few soft notes to Rose filled the room and Minho shook his head, "No, but I hear it's a good movie."
"More than good," Jisung sat down on his stool and grabbed his pencil, glancing at Minho from over the side of the canvas, "It's like, one of my favorite movies ever. I cried the first time I watched it, and also every other time after that. You know, I once watched it twenty times in one week?"
Minho's eyebrows rose, "Really?" Jisung nodded, sporting a proud expression, "Yup. My friends were a little worried about me but it was fine."
Minho laughed, trying to keep his face neutral as Jisung sketched but he found it rather difficult when Jisung was ranting to him about his obsession with a movie that was made before he was even born.
"My most prized possession is my poster of the movie that was signed by the main actors." He sighed dramatically, "Kate Winslet's signature is very pretty."
Minho just watched him, and laughed softly, "Would you want to watch it with me sometime soon? The only movies I have here are some silly vampire ones."
"That's a little on the nose, no?"
Minho scoffed playfully, "Tell me about it. They aren't even accurate either." He shook his head but Jisung just laughed.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the only noises filling the room were Jisung's pencil scratching against the canvas and the soft notes of Take Her to Sea, Mr. Murdoch.
Minho couldn't help but notice the slight pinch in Jisung's brow as he focused, or the bite of his lip as he glanced back and forth between Minho and the canvas. He also noticed the faint flush in his cheeks from how hard they were holding eye contact every time Jisung looked in his direction.
Jisung leaned back in his stool, examining the canvas before flickering his gaze back and forth between it and Minho. He nodded to himself before turning and grabbing his wooden palette, the paints already set up.
Thank you, past Jisung.
He hummed before setting his palette back down and walking over the the record player to stop the needle and flip the disc over, letting Valse Septembre fill the room instead of the intense string notes of Hard to Starboard. He sat back down and took a deep breath before picking his palette back up and mixing his paints together.
He started with the background. A deep red to match the wallpaper around the room. He didn't pay too much attention to the background, opting to save his energy for the actual details.
He moved onto the shadows of Minho's skin, repeatedly looking over the edge of the canvas and doing his best to ignore the way Minho was looking at him. It was hard.
His hands were slightly shaky as he painted. Each stroke was accompanied by a small sigh and a "pull yourself together" in his head. He wasn't usually this nervous when painting, but that was mostly because he'd never painted someone like this before, especially not someone like Minho.
He tried to relax and let the violin of Wedding Dance distract him from his thoughts, but it didn't work. Nothing did. Not when Minho wouldn't stop looking at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. Jisung tried to reciprocate, but Minho's gaze was making him nervous, and he had no doubt that Minho could tell.
He shook his head at himself, muttering something under his breath.
He made sure every little detail was perfect— made sure every shadow was placed in the right spot. Made sure the dip of his cheekbones was the right angle.
Each stroke of paint was full of everything he wanted to say, but couldn't. Because that would be weird. So he stayed quiet and poured his feelings onto the canvas. It's what he always did.
Or what he used to always do, back before he was forced into med school chasing a dream that wasn't even his.
He hadn't realized how much time passed until his eyelids were slowly getting heavier and Minho was forcing the brush and palette out of his hands, "Come on, Jisung. You need rest."
He tried to fight and tell Minho that he couldn't see the painting yet, even though it was unfinished, but he was just too tired, so he let Minho walk him out of the room and towards his bedroom. He sat down at the end of the bed, watching Jisung cuddle up to whichever stuffed animal was closest, but just as he stood to leave, Jisung held his hand out.
"Will you stay?"
Minho hesitated, glancing back and forth between Jisung and the windows, but he was weak to the almost pitiful expression on Jisung's face, so he nodded, "Of course."
Jisung smiled and laid his hand back down, too tired to question Minho as he approached the windows. He closed the curtains and shut them as tight as he could, making sure little to no sunlight would peak through. After that he toed his shoes off and curled up behind Jisung, wrapping his arms around his waist.
Jisung was already fast asleep, but Minho still laid a kiss to the exposed skin of his neck and whispered, "Goodnight, Jisung."
Day 15
"Okay," Jisung chewed at the inside of his lip, examining the painting in front of him, "I think it's done."
Minho smiled and stood, stretching his arms above his head, "Can I come see?"
Jisung nodded and waved him over, still looking it over himself with a finger hooked atop his chin. Minho felt his non-existent breath hitch, Jisung really had gotten every detail down to the T.
The straight slope of his nose, his overbite, his cheekbones, his sharp eyes that softened when he looked in Jisung's direction. Even the ruffles of his shirt collar were perfect. The highlights of his skin, the shadows, the glint in his eyes. It was all…overwhelming, almost, to see the way Jisung portrayed him. He was essentially seeing himself through Jisung's eyes, and something about that felt intimate to him, to say the least.
"Jisung, this is…" He reached out to touch it but stopped himself. He was speechless. Completely and utterly speechless.
Jisung smiled and scratched his head with his index finger nervously, "Do you like it? I messed up at some spots, but I haven't done this in awhile so-"
"Like it?" He glanced back at Jisung but couldn't keep his gaze away from the painting for long, "Jisung, I love it. This is…beautiful."
Jisung propped a foot up on the stool and wrapped his arms around his leg, resting his cheek on his knee. His voice was slightly muffled from his cheek being squished, but Minho heard what he said clear as day.
"Not as beautiful as you, Min."
Minho turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised just a bit in shock. The glimmer in Jisung's eyes put the night sky to shame, even in the dimly-lit room. Jisung is just like that, he supposes.
"You don't mean that." He tried to laugh it off and turn his head away, but Jisung furrowed his brows and gripped his hand, "Yes, I do. I mean that with my whole chest, Minho. Why would I have wanted to paint you if I didn't think so?"
Minho sighed and pulled his hand away from Jisung's to brush a strand of hair away from Jisung's face, but he just held onto his wrist instead. He was quiet for a moment, simply looking into Jisung's eyes and wording his next sentence carefully.
"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I've so many regrets— but one thing I would never and will never regret is meeting you, Jisung."
Jisung's bottom lip wobbled but he didn't cry. His eyebrows pinched for half a second before relaxing, "I don't regret meeting you either."
Minho smiled and watched as Jisung turned his head to lay a kiss to the center of his palm. One after the other, stopping only at the spot under his wrist. They didn't say anything after, they just looked at each other, but those looks said more than they every could.
Day 21
"Do you have any board games?" Jisung asked, practically dying of boredem and flopping himself down on Minho old, fancy black couch dramatically.
"There might be a few in the closet down the hall, if you want to go check."
Jisung huffed but stood and dragged his feet to the closet Minho had gestured to. Everything was covered in dust, but there was a stack of board games to his left.
He dragged his index finger against the boxes as he skimmed through them, not even recognizing half of them. But then he spotted The Game of Life. The original version from the 1960's.
"Holy shit." He said to himself with a laugh, pulling it out from the stack. Dust clouded in his face but he waved it away with a small coughing fit, rushing to get back to Minho.
"I didn't know you had this!" Jisung said, his footsteps pattering against the creaky hardwood floor as he practically ran back to Minho. He jut the box out in front of him, showing Minho, but he just seemed confused.
"The Game of Life? Do you not have it?"
Jisung looked back down at the box, "Well, I do, but this is like the first version ever made." He set the box down on the coffee table and knelt in front of it, pulling all of the pieces out, "Oh, my God, how long has it been since this has been opened?"
Minho smiled and shrugged, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, "I didn't even know I had it, so that's enough of an answer itself." Jisung huffed a laugh but continued setting everything up. He stared at the directions in one hand while the other held paper he's never even seen before.
"I have no idea what any of this is."
Minho laughed, "Really?"
Jisung nodded, his eyes squinted just a tad as he read the small text of the directions, but it was quite difficult because the paper was slightly aged.
"This is…." He shook his head, "None of this," he held up the slips of paper in his hand, "Is in the version I played." He sighed and slammed the directions down (he didn't actually slam it, it was more of a tap), "This is too confusing, do you have anything else? Like card?"
Minho shrugged and Jisung sighed again, running a hand through his hair, "Let me go check."
While Jisung stomped his way back to the hallway closet, Minho put everything back in the box neatly, setting it to the side just as Jisung came back with a deck of cards, "Okay." He sat back down with a dramatic huff, "Have you ever played Go Fish?"
"No, I have not."
Jisung blinked at him a few times before shaking his head, "It's pretty simple, honestly."
He spent the next ten minutes explaining the rules of Go Fish to Minho. It took ten minutes because he's horrible at explaining literally anything.
But also, Minho was winning right now. He had three more pairs than Jisung did.
"This isn't fair." Jisung grumbled, grabbing yet another card from the stack. Minho laughed, looking at Jisung from over his own cards, "I'm playing per the rules that you told me, Sung-ah."
Jisung scowled and waved his hand in the air, "Yeah, yeah. Do you have a…two of hearts?"
Minho scanned his cards before shaking his head, "Go Fish."
Jisung wanted to flip the table at Minho's words, and his stupid lisp that Jisung really wants to be annoyed by but he can't help but find it cute didn't help one bit, "Dude, how?! My only pairs are from my own deck!"
Minho shrugged, holding back his laughter, "I guess you just have bad luck."
"Bad luck my ass." Jisung mumbled, grabbing a card from the deck with more force than necessary. He looked at it and sighed, closing his eyes and deflating his posture.
"…Fishy fishy, got my wishy."
Minho laughed but Jisung didn't, even as he set down his third pair. Minho cleared his throat, "Do you have a queen of spades?"
"I don't wanna play anymore." Jisung deadpanned, but that just made Minho belly-laugh. Jisung doesn't think he's ever seen Minho laugh that hard. Ever.
Minho was definitely a cheater. Jisung would die on that hill.
Day 27
"Did you know that penguins propose to each other with pebbles?" Jisung asked, but no one responded. He glanced over his shoulder at the coffin he was sitting against and smiled, "It's honestly really cute. I would show you a video but…I kinda can't."
He tilted his head as he sketched, doing so subconsciously. It was a habit he didn't even know he had developed until his parents had pointed it out and told him to straighten his posture.
"They are also one of the very few bird species that can produce milk." He furrowed his brows, "Which, now that I think about it, a bird producing milk is a little weird."
He sighed and looked at his sketch. A simple one of a cat that faintly resembled Doongie, was was laying on the coffin above his head.
He shut his book carefully and adjusted the strap, making sure it closed all the way before standing with a dramatic groan. "Jesus, I'm only twenty-five." He stretched his arms above his head and dropped them a little too fast, glancing at Doongie after.
"I still don't know why you're translucent." He reached his hand out to scratch the cat on his head. He could feel how hard he was purring and that made him smile just a bit.
"I'll let you sleep." He placed a hand on the coffin and dragged it against the polished wood as he walked away, shutting the creaky door behind him as softly as he could. Usually he would go to his art studio, but he was tired, so he went to his room.
He placed his journal on his desk before face-planting onto his bed with a loud huff. He turned his head and looked at one of the stuffed animals Minho had gotten him.
Minho, Minho, Minho.
All he thought about was Minho.
He wasn't really able to think about much else, but it's not like he wanted to either.
Minho was sweet. He supported him and he never judged him for what he liked. And he was very pretty.
He sighed, pulling the stuffed animal closer to him. They had gotten closer the past few days. Jisung doesn't even know how long it's been— time flies when you live with a vampire.
He hasn't seen his friends since the day Minho trapped him here, and they haven't tried to come back for him either. Good riddance, he thinks. If they really cared about him, wouldn't they have come back? Or told someone, at the very least.
He didn't like to dwell on it very much, which is why he thought about Minho more than what would be considered normal. Minho was a good distraction.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting himself sink into the mattress. His friends didn't matter anymore. Minho was the only thing he cared about.
And his cats.
Jisung stirred to the feeling of a light touch against his face. He groaned, not wanting to open his eyes, but then he felt the presence of someone who wasn't there when he fell asleep and out of pure instinct, opened his eyes wide and shot up.
But it was just Minho.
Minho, who sat up with him a few seconds later, "Apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you." He said it with a smile, his head tilted to the side, looking at Jisung like he was a dream even though Jisung knew he looked the . exact opposite right now. He could feel the drool drying in the corner of his mouth.
He shook his head, "No, you're fine." He frog-blinked, his voice heavy with sleep. Minho placed a hand on Jisung's shoulder and squeezed, "I can tell Chan to wait on dinner if you need to rest."
Jisung turned to look at Minho. He wanted to deny, to not come off as rude, but he was too tired, so he nodded and laid back down. Minho laid down with him and Jisung wasted no time in wrapping himself around him, his cheek squished against his chest.
Minho's hand ran through Jisung's hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp with enough force that had him back to sleep in mere seconds.
He felt safe with Minho. He enjoyed being around Minho.
He loved Minho.
Day 31
He finally remembered to ask Minho how to work the camera a few days ago and he'd been using it non-stop. He's almost embarrassed of how long it took to ask, but he got distracted. It wasn't his fault.
But he had gotten excited and ended up using an entire roll of film in a week. Minho's cats surely hate him by this point.
When he asked Minho where more film was, Minho had told him to look in the hall closet that just seemed to house everything he would ever need. So he walked himself downstairs and he checked the stupid closet.
He found the box of film, but it was lying on top of a bunch of old photo albums. He shoved the box in his hoodie pocket and pulled one of the albums out, blowing the dust off and instantly regretting it when it clouded right in his face. He waved his hand in the air and let out a dramatic cough before flipping the book open to the first page and pausing at the sight of a very victorian-era style family photo.
A man standing, a woman sitting in a chair, and a baby propped up on her knee. Jisung could only assume the baby was Minho.
He gasped and closed it, rushing out of the closet and running upstairs to his room where Minho was flipping through his journal shamelessly.
"Look what I found!" Jisung said, bursting through the door. He slammed it shut behind him, not even sparing it a glance as he approached Minho with the albums held out in front of him. Minho seemed to hesitate for a second, but Jisung missed it.
"Where was it?"
"Under the box of film," Jisung pulled the box out and set it on the desk, paying it no mind, "Are these your parents?" He flipped to the first page and showed Minho, who took it from him gently to take a look at it a bit closer. He hummed, "Yes. They are." He flipped to the next page. There was another picture of him as a baby on one page, and the other was one of his parents.
He sighed almost wistfully.
"Are they…still alive?" He was quiet as he asked, nervous he was crossing a line, but Minho just let out a soft laugh, "No. They didn't get cursed like I did."
"Cursed?"
Minho looked at Jisung and smiled as big as he could, which wasn't very. "Cursed with vampirism. I'm afraid it was only I who was unlucky enough to encounter one." Jisung hummed looking back down at the book in Minho's hands. His face was against Minho's bicep while his hand was against it as well. Personal space who?
It was quiet for a bit, both of them just looking at the old pictures. They were of people, not memories, so Minho didn't have much to say, but Jisung still had a question or two.
"What happened after you got bit?"
Minho paused, taking a deep breath, "Well, when they found out, they had called the local priest to try and have me exorcised, but that didn't work, so naturally…they tried to kill me." Jisung's eyes widened comically and he pulled his head away to look Minho in the eye, "Why would they do that?"
Minho scoffed a laugh but there was no malice behind it, "Why do you think, Jisung-ah?" He shut the book and set it on the desk next to Jisung's journal, leading him to sit on the bed, "I'm cursed. Diseased. There was nothing else they could do. In fear of their own life, they tried to end mine."
Jisung leaned his head against Minho's shoulder. Minho leaned his head against Jisung's.
"But that's horrible. Who would do that to their own kid?"
"It's simply the way of life. Not everything can last forever."
Jisung intertwined their fingers and looked down at their hands bound together. He was quiet for a few seconds, considering his next words.
"Can we?"
Minho hummed, and Jisung continued. "Can we last forever? I don't want this to end."
Minho placed a kiss to the top of Jisung's head, "I don't either, Jisung, but you've got a future ahead of you. I can't take that away because of my own selfish desires."
"Haven't you already?"
"The front door's been unlocked this whole time. You've always been free to leave, but you never tried."
"I didn't want to," he flipped their hands over, tracing the veins of Minho's with his eyes, "I like being here with you."
"I know, but you can't stay here for the rest of your life-" Jisung cut him off, pulling his head away, "Why not?" His brows were slightly furrowed while Minho's were almost upturned, "Why can't I?"
"Jisung, it's-"
"What if I want to stay? Why do you get to decide what I want?"
Jisung didn't know why he was so angry all of a sudden. Perhaps he was so pent up with fear and anger towards others that he couldn't help but take it out on Minho now. He didn't want to.
"Jisung, you don't want to stay here."
"Yes, I do! I want to stay with you, Minho! Forever."
Minho's mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly shocked at the implication, before his posture deflated slightly, "You don't mean that." He spoke quietly, like he was uncertain.
Jisung turned to face him all the way, "I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Bite me, Minho. Turn me. Please. I can't stand the thought of losing you, of not being around you. It hurts me to even think about. Please." He doesn't remember when he started crying, but he was, because even through his shock, Minho still wiped away his tears.
"Jisung, I can't…"
Jisung clapped his hands together, "Please, Minho!" He was still crying, and maybe if his own vision wasn't so blurry, he would notice the tears forming on Minho's waterline.
"I- I'm sorry. I just can't."
Jisung wanted to ask why he couldn't, but Minho had stood and left before he could force the words out.
He felt around his bed blindly, reaching for whatever was closest. It was the bunny. Jisung held it to his face and he laid down, his shoulders still shaking with sobs. His throat hurt but he didn't care. He couldn't stop crying.
It was a mixture of everything that had happened the past month, but Jisung wasn't lying when he asked Minho to bite him. He wasn't delirious or joking. He was dead serious. (no pun intended)
He cried himself to sleep, still holding onto that bunny with a death-grip.
Day 33
Jisung hasn't seen Minho since he left the room a couple days ago, but that was his choice. It's not like Minho hasn't tried.
He'd skipped his meals. All of them. Just because he was too lazy to move. But Minho had finally had enough.
He stared at Jisung's plate at the dining table— steaming hot food in front of a cold, empty chair. He sighed and picked his bowl up, chugging it as fast as he could before wiping his face sloppily with a napkin and grabbing Jisung's plate. He didn't care if Jisung was angry at him, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let him go hungry.
He didn't stomp, but he walked with a bit more force than he usually would.
When he got to Jisung's door, he hesitated for just a second before just opening it and walking in. Not even bothering with knocking. Jisung didn't spare him a glance.
"Sit up. You have to eat." He set the place on one of the side tables before peeling Jisung's blanket off of him. Jisung just turned farther away from him, "Leave me alone."
"Not until you eat."
Jisung sat up, because even if he wanted to stay mad, he just couldn't. Minho had that effect on him, after all. Minho set the plate in his lap and sat on the end of the bed by his feet, watching him take a bite of the food that was slowly going cold.
It was quiet as he ate, but it wasn't awkward. Minho only decided to speak up when Jisung had set the plate to the side.
"I'm sorry." Jisung looked up at him but he continued, "I didn't mean for you to get angry like that, and I didn't mean to leave you like that. I just…got scared." He looked down at his lap, swallowing his nerves before continuing his little speech, "When I got bit, or 'turned', it was the most painful and most traumatizing experience of my life. I just don't want you to go through that."
Jisung moved closer. Close enough that he could lean his head on Minho's shoulder.
"But, I've been thinking," Minho grabbed Jisung's hand, "If you're sure that it's what you want— and I mean positive— then…then I will bite you. But it's quite an intimate act, and it's rather uncomfortable. I don't want you to get frightened."
Jisung felt like he could jump up and down right now, but he contained his excitement, "I want it, Minho. I know I do." He pulled back to look Minho in the eye, "Every time I imagine a future, you're always a part of it."
Minho smiled and planted a soft kiss against Jisung's forehead, "You're perfect, Jisung." He kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheekbone, "Completely and utterly perfect." He placed a hand on Jisung's jaw before finally pulling him into a kiss. Gentle, feather-light, but Jisung placed his own hand on the side of Minho's neck and forced him deeper into the kiss, their lips finally connecting enough to satisfy the both of them.
Jisung sat up straighter, furrowing his brows as Minho's fingers slid into his hair. Suddenly, he straddled Minho, digging his knees into the mattress on either side of Minho's thighs.
Minho's hands flew to his hips. Neither of them dared to break the kiss, both of them just holding onto each other like the other would disappear in an instant. Minho pulled away, kissing a line down the side of Jisung's neck.
"We should slow down," He was out of breath, and almost shaking as he pressed his nose against Jisung's jugular vein. Jisung shook his head, "I need you now, Minho. Please." He practically whimpered the last part, and Minho had to take a deep breath before he did something he might regret. He nodded and kissed Jisung's neck, "Okay. Whatever you want, Jisungie."
He kissed a trail up to the spot under Jisung's ears before whispering, "Whatever you need."
Jisung shuddered and closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of Minho kissing all over his neck and dipping down to his collarbones.
"Lay down." He mumbled Jisung's skin, putting his hands on his back to help him lay flat. Jisung gulped and watched Minho unbutton his vest before peeling it off and setting it on the side table next to Jisung's plate. He was not throwing that on the floor.
He climbed over Jisung, looking down at him with a glint in his eyes that made Jisung feel special. Because he was special. He is.
Minho leaned down to kiss at his neck again, slowly sliding a hand underneath his shirt at the same time. His touch was cold and only made Jisung shiver, but Jisung could feel himself warming up despite that, with pure want and desperation. He's been waiting for this for far too long.
"Minho…" Jisung whined as Minho moved lower, licking at his collarbones. He hummed, biting down with just enough force for Jisung to feel it, and Jisung jumped at the feeling but quickly melted, silently begging for more. Minho indulged, pushing Jisung's shirt into a bunch at the top of his chest. Jisung lifted his arms and sat up enough for Minho to take it off completely, and he did, tossing it onto the floor next to the bed somewhere.
Jisung's teeth chattered together as Minho dragged a finger down his sternum, scratching his nail against his skin lightly, just enough for it to leave a faint line in its wake.
"You're beautiful, Jisung-ah." He kissed the spot underneath Jisung's ear, leaving another at the point of his jaw. Jisung just swallowed around nothing, unable to form words without him sounding like a whiny mess.
Minho pulled back and started slowly unbuttoning his own shirt. Jisung watched each button as it popped free, and squirmed as Minho's chest got exposed more and more, button by button. Minho hesitated for just a second when he got to the button at his stomach, but he straightened his posture and took a deep breath before continuing.
Jisung wanted to ask why he hesitated, even if his hesitation was barely noticeable, but as Minho peeled his shirt off, he saw a long, jagged scar across his stomach, the lowest point just grazing the tip of his belly-button. He reached out to touch it but stopped himself, glancing up at Minho, who nodded. He dragged the tip of his fingers across the traumatized skin gently, swallowing his nerves to ask, "Is this from when…"
Minho nodded again, "They always were clumsy people." He said it with a laugh but Jisung could hear something behind it. Minho's shirt fell next to Jisung's, leaving both of them shirtless and cold, but Jisung's body heat was more than enough for both of them.
"You're so warm," Minho mumbled, laying the side of his face against Jisung's shoulder as his hand ran up his torso, "I love it." He sighed, leaning up to kiss him.
Jisung placed his hand on the back of Minho's head, tightening his grip just barely when he felt Minho's fangs graze his lips.
Minho pulled away, looking back and forth between Jisung's eyes with a shine in his own. His pupils were wide, and Jisung swore the ruby color of his irises looked brighter. Alive.
"We don't have to go farther if you don't want to." He muttered, brushing a strand of hair away from Jisung's eyes. Jisung shook his head, "I want this, Minho. I really, really want this." He chewed this inside of his lip, "Do you not want to?"
Minho furrowed his brows and shook his head, cupping a palm over Jisung's cheek, "Of course I do, jagi. I want this so bad," Minho tried to stay composed, but between the look Jisung was giving him and the fact that he's had zero play in over a hundred years, he was practically losing his mind, "I need you, Jisung."
Jisung sighed and gripped Minho's hips as he moved to straddle him, "You have me, Min. I'm yours. Forever."
Minho took a deep, shaky breath, pushing himself up so he could look down at Jisung.
Jisung looked up at him like he held the world. Like Minho was a god and he lived only to worship the ground that Minho walked on.
"You're my favorite painting." Jisung mumbled, running his hands up to Minho's waist. Minho gulped, suddenly getting flustered even though he was unable to show it. His eyes were half-lidded, keeping his hands on Jisung's chest for stability as he suddenly ground down against the growing tent in his pants.
Jisung gasped, throwing his head back slightly. Enough that Minho could dive forward and attack the underside of his jaw. He moved his hips slowly, kissing and nibbling at Jisung's jaw at the same time. It was so much at once but all Jisung could think was just how bad he wanted more.
He gripped Minho's hips tighter than before and guided him as he moved, moving his hips in slow circles back and forth against him. They shared quiet moans and soft huffs of breath, both of them moving like they had all the time in the world.
And honestly, they did.
But the both of them started to get impatient, and Minho pulled away to finally unbutton and pull his pants off. Jisung followed suit but still watched Minho drop his pants to the floor, pulling off probably the oldest pair of boxers Jisung thinks he's ever seen after.
Jisung pulled his pants and his underwear down at the same time, kicking them somewhere he wasn't worried about right now.
Minho sighed when he climbed back over Jisung, his non-existent breath full of contentment.
"You're a work of art, Jisung. Truly." He ran a hand up and down the side of Jisung's thigh, nosing at the side of his neck at the same time. Jisung gulped, wrapping his arms around Minho's neck and tilting his head to the side to give him better access.
With his free hand, Minho reached over to the side table to grab a small bottle of oil that most certainly was not there a few minutes ago.
"Where did that come from?" Jisung asked, his tone breathy from how hard he was panting. Minho just smirked at him as he pulled the cork out, "I'm magic. I thought you knew that already?" Jisung huffed out a laugh, watching Minho pour some of the oil over his fingers. Minho held onto Jisung's legs and spread them, making sure to watch his reaction as he moved.
"This might be cold." Minho muttered before pouring some of the oil directly over Jisung's hole. Jisung jumped at how cold it was, having mentally prepared himself a little too late. Minho set the bottle back on the side table, not bothering with the cork.
Minho circled Jisung's rim, dipping the tip of his finger inside occasionally to tease but also to spread the oil. He smirked at Jisung as he squirmed, "Please," Jisung whined, "What's wrong, jagi?" Minho tilted his head to the side, "Use your words."
Jisung forced his eyes open, looking up at Minho who was staring down at him with a soft yet intense look, "Please, Minho, I need you, please." Minho kissed his temple and shushed him, "I know, Jisungie. You just have to be patient. You can be patient for me, right?"
Jisung nodded shakily, tears welling up in his waterline. Minho kissed a stray tear away and finally pushed his finger in, right to the second knuckle. Jisung's hands flew to Minho's biceps, gripping as he pushed his finger in and out.
"You're doing so well, Jisung-ah," he kissed Jisung's jaw, "So well for me."
He pushed back in with a second finger, curling them just barely. Enough that Jisung could feel it— and he did, because he held onto Minho tighter, digging his nails into his skin so hard he was sure he would draw blood if Minho had any.
"Relax, jagi," Minho whispered, kissing the spot under Jisung's ear, "You're so tense."
"Sorry…" Jisung whimpered, taking a deep breath and relaxing back into the sheets. Minho thrust his fingers in and out, scissoring them apart slightly, making sure Jisung was stretched enough before adding a third finger and repeating the process.
Curl, scissor, thrust. Over, and over, and over again.
Jisung's back was arched and his jaw was slack. One of the hands holding onto Minho had moved to grip the pillow underneath his head, his wrist was bent at an almost uncomfortable angle but he didn't care, too focused on the feeling of Minho's fingers dragging against his walls and moving in and out of his hole at the most delicious pace.
Fast enough to drive him insane but slow enough to not push him over the edge.
After a few more thrusts, Minho pulled his fingers out agonizingly slowly, relishing in the way Jisung twitched at the feeling. His face and neck were flushed with blood that Minho yearned to drink, but that could wait. Jisung's pleasure always came before his.
Always.
Minho picked up the oil and poured a bit more on his finger, spreading it over his cock after. He held Jisung's legs, wrapping them around his waist as he positioned himself. He ran his hands up and down Jisung's thighs, settling them around his hips.
"Are you ready?" He asked gently, leaving a kiss to Jisung's forehead, then the tip of his nose, then the corner of his mouth as he nodded. "Words, jagi." Minho pulled back to get a proper look at Jisung's face. His lips were swollen and wet, his cheeks flushed, and his cheeks were wet from his tears.
"I'm ready, Minho, please!"
Minho smiled and finally kissed him on the lips, holding Jisung's cheek with one hand and lining himself up with the other. Jisung whimpered when he felt Minho push in slowly, tightening his legs that were around Minho's waist and wrapping his arms around his neck again.
When Minho was only halfway in, Jisung's back was slightly arched and he had to stop himself from practically yelling out a moan. Minho was kissing him all over. His cheek, his lips, his neck— anywhere Minho could reach, he kissed. Jisung felt like he had died and gone to heaven.
Minho finally bottomed out after a few more seconds, and they shared a moan. Minho's face fell into the crook of Jisung's neck, his nose bumping against his jugular vein.
After a few moments of quiet, Jisung rocked his hips shakily, "You can move…"
Minho smiled and Jisung didn't see it, but he felt it against his skin.
Minho started slow, moving in and out shallowly, making sure Jisung was used to the stretch before finally setting a pace. Not too fast but not too slow— it was perfect. Jisung felt Minho deep inside of him, grazing his prostate with each thrust.
Jisung couldn't stop moaning, especially when Minho pushed their hips flush together, pressing against every sweet spot inside of him. He was so deep, Jisung almost thought he could feel him in his mouth. He looked down at where they were connected and gulped at the sight, fighting the urge to drool. Minho followed his gaze and noticed a faint bulge in Jisung's lower stomach from where he was currently sitting inside of him.
Minho smiled and pressed down on it gently as he finally continued his thrusts, picking up the pace enough for Jisung to see stars. He could already feel Minho so deep, but the feeling of him thrusting in and out as he pressed down on that area made Jisung's back arch— it felt unreal, like his walls were molding to the shape of Minho's cock.
Minho sped up even more and Jisung's back arched violently, letting out a loud, pitiful moan as more tears forced their way out. He choked out an aggressive sob as Minho bumped against his prostate over and over, making his whole body tingle with white, hot pleasure.
He wasn't going to last long like this, he knew that, and Minho grazing the skin of his neck with the tips of his fangs didn't help either.
After two particularly hard thrusts, Jisung was clenching around Minho and thrashing his head around as he moaned, "I'm- ah- I'm gonna-"
"I know, jagi." Minho whispered in his ear, "Let go."
That was all Jisung needed to hear before letting out an almost pornographic moan and arching his back so deep that it had started to hurt, spurting all over his own stomach.
Minho was moaning now too— quiet, low ones, like he was holding back, but Jisung could tell he was close. He subconsciously tilted his head to the side, letting Minho kiss at his neck as he thrusted, but then Minho finally snapped and Jisung could feel his warmth spread inside of him.
But that wasn't all Jisung felt.
Two sharp pokes in his neck made his fingers twitch to push whatever it was away, but he forced himself to stay still, letting Minho sink his fangs in and take what he needed.
Minho's brows furrowed as he tasted Jisung''s blood. It was almost sweet. Rare. He could tell.
Type O negative. Jisung had O negative blood.
That's why Minho couldn't keep his nose away.
He drank and drank, making sure to stay aware of the way Jisung's body went limp and his breathing shallowed. A few more minutes of Minho gulping down his blood greedily passed, and Jisung had finally stopped breathing.
Minho pulled away, leaving some of his blood so he didn't kill him for good. He leaned back and licked his lips, admiring the way Jisung looked in this state.
He was so pale already, his face covered in tears and spit while his hairline was wet with a light sheen of sweat. His eyes were closed, he looked almost at peace. He was beautiful. Minho had a hard time believing he was real.
Minho smiled and licked his lips free of Jisung's blood. He leaned down to kiss him on the lips gently before pulling away again and standing to put his underwear back on. He helped Jisung back into his clothes but kept his shirt off, opting to fold it neatly and place it on the desk instead.
He licked the two marks on Jisung's neck, giving them a little kick to heal faster before quietly climbing back into bed, wrapping his arms around Jisung's waist and pulling him closer. He was being quiet as if Jisung was just sleeping and not literally dead.
His fingertips buzzed with something akin to excitement. He's happy it was Jisung.
Day 35
Jisung furrowed his brows, wincing at multiple things he was feeling. His mouth hurt and his jaw felt weird, like he was about to puke. He was hot but he was also cold. His hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, but his teeth were also clacking together from how cold he was.
He only got a few seconds to process everything before he shot up with the overwhelming urge to puke and an old metal bucket was forced into his lap. He felt a hand rub his back comfortingly, and the familiar tone as the person whispered "It's okay" made him confirm that yes, Minho was the one comforting him as he puked his guts up.
He puked a few times back to back but once he felt himself and his stomach calm down a bit, he pulled away from the bucket and blinked a few times. His eyes widened when he saw red— he had thrown up blood. So much blood.
Was this normal? Why was he throwing up blood? Was he gonna die?
Minho noticed his panic and spoke up, brushing Jisung's hair back with his palm, "Vomiting blood is normal. There's no need to panic."
Jisung's head snapped to him and he winced, his head suddenly hurting, "Normal?! For what?!"
Minho gave him a confused look, "Side effects of the beginning stages of vampirism." He talked slowly, "Do you…not remember what happened a few nights ago?"
Jisung furrowed his brows, still panting, forcing himself to remember what happened before he had fallen asleep.
"I remember…" His mouth ached slightly as he talked, "I remember us, and then a sharp…" Realization finally settled in. Minho had bitten him like he asked.
He had become a vampire.
His posture deflated, mostly from exhaustion but partly from the reality crash as well.
Minho set the bucket on the ground next to the side table, "You'll feel sick for the first few days. Fever, nausea, mouth pain. But it'll go away in no time" He turned back to Jisung, nudging him to lay down so he could place a wet rag over his forehead, "Vampirism settles in quicker than you might think."
He sat in the chair he had pulled close to the bed— the one from Jisung's desk— and adjusted his glasses, "I've already asked Chan to make some soup. You need something in your system, you've been out for a couple of days."
Jisung blinked, just staring at Minho. "Are you wearing glasses?"
Minho blinked a few times, caught off guard by the question, "Yes…I wear them to read." He reached up to remove them, but Jisung held a hand out to stop him, "No, you can keep them on. I like them. They're cute." Minho smiled at his compliment and opened his mouth to say something, but a knock at the door cut him off.
"Come in." Minho said, loud enough for whoever was on the other side of the door to hear.
Jeongin opened the door and walked in, approaching the bed where Jisung was laying, "Good to see you're finally awake, sir."
Jisung forced himself to sit up as Jeongin placed a tray in his lap and he noticed Minho almost stood to help. "Enjoy." He said with a smile and a bow in both Jisung and Minho's direction before leaving and shutting the door behind him softly. Jisung stared down at the bowl with a half-shocked half-confused expression before looking up at Minho, "What is this?"
"Blood." Minho answered bluntly, "Pig's blood, to be exact. It's not as sweet or nutritious as human blood, but your body isn't quite ready for human blood just yet."
Jisung just blinked at him, his jaw slack. Minho gestured to the bowl, "Drink up. Your body needs it."
Jisung looked back down at the bowl and wrapped his hands around it. He hesitated, looking up at Minho once more before slowly bringing the edge of the bowl to his lips. He expected it to be gross. Expected it to taste like shit from a butt perhaps.
He definitely did not expect the vague saltiness as it hit his tongue, and the faint taste of meat that left him wanting more.
He tipped his head back, gulping the blood down like he would die if he didn't. Minho just watched him with a smile.
Jisung set the bowl back down on the tray slightly panting, blood slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth. Minho gulped, aching to reach out and lick it off of Jisung's skin, but Jisung did it himself before he could. He was quiet for a few beats, just staring down at the blood-stained ceramic.
"I hate that I like how that tasted."
Minho quirked a brow, "Really?" He hummed, "Different tastebuds, I suppose. I never fancied pig's blood myself, but to each their own." Jisung just shrugged, "It tasted…meaty. I like meat." He was quiet, still trying to wrap his mind about the fact that he was now a vampire.
A vampire.
The thing that existed only in scary stories and random games he played as a kid. Global superstitions and myths and tall tales only designed to spook him turned out to be real, and now he was a part of those silly stories. Well, not actually, but distantly related, if he had to assume.
Vampires were real. He was one now, and Minho had been one for who knows how long. And honestly…he wasn't actually that upset about it. Vampires were cool as hell.
Minho glanced up at the windows that were now boarded up for Jisung's safety and noticed the sun slowly start to peek through the cracks, "You should get some rest, jagi. You need it." Jisung looked up at him as he stood and dragged the chair back to the desk, "Are you leaving?"
Minho smiled, "Of course not." He walked to the other side of the bed and unbuttoned his vest, slipping his shoes off at the same time. He folded his vest and placed it on the side table before climbing into bed and planting himself next to Jisung, only laying an arm over his waist so he didn't overheat.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, placing a light kiss on Jisung's shoulder. Jisung looked at him, "I don't know. My mouth hurts."
Minho laughed, "I mean about the whole 'becoming a vampire' thing. Surely you're still a little thrown off by it all?" Jisung shrugged and placed his hand over Minho's, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of Minho's hand, "It's a little crazy, but it's cool. I like vampires." He looked Minho deep in his eyes for a second before whispering, "I'm glad it was you, Minho. Thank you."
Minho smiled at him, his heart suddenly feeling warm despite it not beating, "You've nothing to thank me for, Jisung-ah." He moved a little closer, still leaving a little bit of distance for the sake of Jisung's temperature, "I'm glad it was you too. I couldn't imagine lying here with anyone else."
Jisung smiled, and Minho could tell that his face would be super flushed if he had the blood to do so.
Jisung wrapped himself around Minho and closed his eyes, letting himself fall asleep quickly in Minho's firm embrace. Quietly reminding him that he wasn't going anywhere. They could finally be together forever.
Minho doesn't think he could be happier.
Day 37
Jisung jolted up, holding his mouth like it would fly off and squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could. He winched. His mouth hurt. Like, excruciating pain. He doesn't think he's felt pain like this since…ever actually. Probably. He has the memory of a goldfish, honestly.
Minho sat up a few seconds later, blinking sleep away and rubbing Jisung's back, "Are you alright?" His voice was gruffy and clouded with sleep. Jisung would feel bad if he wasn't too busy trying not to cry. He shook his head shakily and Minho continued to rub his back.
It lasted for a few more seconds before just disappearing. The pain was gone in an instant and Jisung furrowed his brows, confused. He pulled his hand away from his mouth and looked at his palm before looking at Minho whos eyes widened almost comically.
Jisung didn't even know his eyes could get that wide.
"Jisung, your…" He trailed off, gesturing to his own mouth. To his fangs. Jisung blinked a few times before bringing his fingers to his mouth and feeling his teeth. He jumped when his fingertip got poked by something sharp.
Sharp…fangs. Jisung had finally grown his fangs in.
His eyes widened and he felt them with his tongue as well, trying to make sure they're real. And they were. Jisung had fangs.
His head snapped towards Minho who was smiling at him, "How do you feel?" He asked quietly. Jisung felt his teeth a bit more before pulling his hand away and setting it in his lap, "It's weird, but awesome at the same time." As he spoke, he noticed that he now has a slight lisp of his own.
Yay.
Minho kissed his cheek, squeezing his shoulder with the hand that hadn't moved. "You're so cute with fangs, Jisungie. Like a real life vampire." He cooed, pinching Jisung's cheeks playfully. Jisung swatted him away, still subconsciously feeling his new, pokey teeth with his tongue. He was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke up, "This is weird."
Minho laughed, "It'll take a few days to get used to." He brushed a strand of hair away from Jisung's eyes as he just stared off into space, "Do they still hurt?"
Jisung shook his head, forcing his gaze away from the wall, "No. Sorry. I can't stop feeling them."
Minho smiled and kissed his cheek again, "I was the same way. It's okay." He pulled Jisung back down with his hand, wrapping his arms around his body and pulling him close, "Get some sleep, jagi."
Jisung nodded and placed his head against Minho's chest, his cheek squished against him falling asleep faster than he could blink in the comfort of Minho's embrace.
Day 42
The door creaked as it opened and closed but Jisung didn't hear a thing, too focused on the painting he was two inches away from.
"Jisung-ah, you're practically eating it." Minho smiled as he walked behind Jisung, placing his hands on his shoulders. Jisung blinked a few times and snapped out of the trance he was in, "I didn't even realize I was that close." He said with a soft laugh, setting his pallette and his brush down before leaning his head back to look at Minho, only stopping when it bumped against his stomach.
Minho smiled down at him, placing a hand on his face, "I have something special prepared for you today."
Jisung raised an eyebrow, "What is it?" Minho shrugged with a smile that only made Jisung suspicious, "I can't tell you, but you should go get ready."
"Get ready?"
Minho nodded, "I left some clothes for you in your room." Jisung stood from his stool, stretching his arms above his head, "You're kinda scaring me."
"Don't be scared. Be excited." Minho smiled and pulled him in for a quick kiss, "I'll come to you when I'm done." Jisung nodded and watched Minho leave.
Minho doesn't usually plan surprises. He usually very forward with his routine, and if he does something new, then he tells Jisung beforehand.
Jisung was skeptical but went to his room anyway.
He looked around and spotted a pile of clothes folded neatly on top of his dresser. He approached the dresser and ran his fingers over the material of the vest sitting next to the pile. A deep crimson red with a floral pattern that was the same shade and only visible when the light hit it. The shirt looked like Minho's but black and the pants were normal dress pants, but they looked a little small.
There were even shoes. Minho had gotten him shoes.
He peeled his shirt off— his favorite one, covered in paint and charcoal— and tossed it onto the bed before pulling his pants down. Minho's timing was impeccable because that was when he decided to waltz in, not even batting an eye when he looked over and Jisung was half-naked. He just smiled, and Jisung realized he was wearing that same outfit that was currently folded and sitting on his dresser.
Of course he picked matching outfits. That was so Minho of him.
"Come in." Jisung said sarcastically, tugging on the new pants. They fit well. Like, a little too well. They were…snug.
Jisung didn't miss the way Minho's smile widened a bit when he glanced down, "I'm already in."
Jisung smiled, because somehow, being around Minho made him happy and giggly all the time, "I know, I was being sarcastic." He pulled the sleeves of the shirt over his arms and started to button it himself, but Minho placed his hands over his and moved them away, buttoning Jisung's shirt himself.
"I have a present for you."
Jisung looked up at him, but Minho was focused on is shirt, "A present? What is it?" Minho shrugged, reaching for the vest, "I'll show you after you finished getting dressed." He pulled Jisung's vest over his arms and buttoned that too. Jisung felt like a kid again, letting his mother dress him for school. He wasn't complaining though, Minho was cute when he focused.
Minho smoothed out Jisung's vest and adjusted his collar before kissing his cheek, "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."
Jisung looked at him with his eyes squinted in suspicion but still closed his eyes and held out his hands. He felt a small box hit his palms. It didn't weigh very much, but it weighed enough for his suspicion to only get worse.
"Open."
Jisung opened his eyes, immediately looking at Minho who gestured down to the box sitting in his hand. It was dark wood, square and definitely old just based on how some spots were aged. He glanced up at Minho again before opening it.
Inside sat a large pendant. The gem was a dark red— ruby, if he had to guess— and encased in silver that swirled into beautiful designs. He took it out and held it in his hands, it was heavy. Heavier than he thought, at least. He looked up at Minho with wide eyes but Minho just smiled.
"It's ruby." He carefully grabbed it from Jisung's palm and started to clip it into his vest, "It reminded me of you." He looked at Jisung, looking back and forth between his eyes, "Your eyes."
Jisung's eyes, that had now turned a similar red to Minho's, softened as he smiled. Minho pointed to his own pendant, clipped in the exact same spot at Jisung's, "Mine is garnet. Similar in color, but different in merit."
"Merit?"
"Ruby tends to run more expensive than garnet because of how rare and precious it is. That's why I gave it to you." He cupped Jisung's cheek in his hand and Jisung leaned into it, "You deserve only the best. You know that, don't you?"
Jisung nodded, knowing if he denied, it would lead Minho into a tangent that would last long enough for them to miss dinner, so he just agreed. Minho smiled and leaned in to kiss him, their fangs tapping together, "Good." He said softly, "Now come on. Tonight's dinner is important."
He let Minho grab his hand and lead him downstairs. He could see Minho's excited smile the whole time, even from behind him.
Minho pulled his chair out like always, but this time, Jeongin and Won-hee stood behind him with the same smile they always sported when he saw them. "What's going on?" Jisung leaned in a little when he asked, but Minho just shrugged with a smile on his face.
Is this where he died? Was this a dragged out plan? No way. Minho wouldn't do that.
Right?
The kitchen door opened and Chan wheeled out the food this time. Jisung doesn't think he's ever seen Chan once.
He had dark slicked back hair and a serious face, wearing the stereotypical chef outfit. Minus the hat.
He set Jisung's bowl down first, "Here you go, sir." He said. He placed Minho's down next but didn't retreat back to the kitchen. He stood there with his hands crossed.
The blood in Jisung's bowl looked brighter. Different. He furrowed his brows and looked at Minho who had the biggest smile, like he was more excited than Jisung was. Because he is. Jisung has no idea what's going on.
"It's just blood. Why is everyone standing around?"
"Not just blood. Do you know what today is?"
Jisung shook his head. Minho tsk'd playfully, "It's officially been one week since you became a vampire. Which means that instead of pig's blood," He gestured to the bowl sitting in front of Jisung, "You can finally have your first taste of human blood."
Jisung looked down at the bowl. It did look good. He looked back up and Minho gestured to his bowl again, "Drink."
Jisung picked the bowl up hesitantly, glancing back up at Minho once more before taking his first sip. His brows pinched as he drank— it was sweeter. Thinner. He couldn't quite describe the taste, but it was delicious. He gulped it down, not stopping for air until the bowl was empty.
When the bowl hit the table, he licked his lips and looked back up at Minho who was resting his chin on his fist and smiling, "Good, wasn't it?"
Jisung nodded.
Minho reached forward to wipe the blood from the corner of Jisung's lip off with his thumb before sucking it off of his finger like it was no big deal. Jisung blushed.
Minho looked behind Jisung, "You may leave us." The three standing behind Jisung bowed before exiting the room, leaving Minho and Jisung alone in the dining room.
"Now I'm sad that I drank it all. I miss it."
Minho laughed, taking a sip of his own bowl, "There'll be more, don't worry."
Jisung watched Minho drink for a few moments. Focussing way too hard on the way his throat moved before speaking up again, "Why did everyone watch? I don't think I've ever seen Chan leave the kitchen before."
Minho set his empty bowl down, dabbing at his mouth with the napkin in his collar, "It's like an initiation of sorts, vampires getting their first taste of human blood. Back when there were schools of us, the newer of them would have to wait a certain amount of time before tasting human blood. It's also safer to wait for your body to get used to vampirism first since human blood is stronger than animal blood."
Jisung hummed, "So, there are more vampires out there?"
Minho laughed, "Yes. We can't die, remember?"
Jisung's eyes widened, "Does that mean Dracula is real?!"
"Yes. Dracula is real. But he's thousands of miles away in a dark, damp castle somewhere in Transylvania."
"Woah," Jisung whispered, his mouth hanging open in shock, "That's awesome."
"I'm glad you think so." Minho pulled the napkin out of his shirt and crumpled it, tossing it into him empty bowl before standing, "Come. I have one more surprise for you."
"Really?"
Minho nodded, pulling Jisung's chair out and grabbing his hand, "You'll like this one."
Minho lead him back upstairs, and Jisung let him. Like a good boy.
They walked right past Jisung's room and into Minho's where Jisung saw a second, similar sized coffin with the same polished wood and the same carving on the lid. It was right next to Minho's.
"Is that…" He looked at Minho who nodded, "That's your coffin. I told you, it's like an initiation. You're a real vampire now. Real vampires sleep in coffins, not beds."
Jisung let go of Minho's hand and approached the coffin, running his fingers over the wood. On top, there was a bundle of black roses tied together with twine and a note that read "Love, Minho. Now we're really together for the rest of time."
Jisung felt his bottom lip wobble and he turned to look at Minho, but he was already beside him, "Are you crying?" Minho asked with an almost teasing smile, but Jisung nodded. "I'm about to be!" He looked back down at the note, and then the roses, and then Minho before pulling him into a kiss.
"I love you."
Minho smiled and kissed Jisung's tears away before kissing him on the lips again, "I love you too, Jisung. So much."
Minho ran his hands down Jisung's side's before planting them on his hips, "You're so beautiful, Sung-ah." He let out a breath, watching the way Jisung rocked his hips. He was hypnotized.
Jisung let out a breathy moan, tilting his head back as he rocked his hips again, relishing in the feeling of how deep Minho felt inside of him. He held onto Minho's chest as he lifted himself slightly before dropping back down, letting out another moan.
"That's it," Minho muttered, his teeth gritting together as he tried not to go mad from how tight Jisung was, "Take it, jagi."
Jisung lifted himself up again, and again, dropping himself back down with a little more force each time. His thighs burned but he only got faster, moaning and whimpering each time Minho bumped against his prostate. Minho dug his head into the padding of his coffin, "God, you feel so good, Jisung." He moaned lightly, gripping Jisung's hips tighter as he moved.
Faster. Harder. He couldn't stop moving or moaning. It was so good, he needed more, and more, and more.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the door. Minho pulled Jisung down on top of him before shutting the lid softly, closing them in the darkness of the shut coffin with Minho still sitting snug inside of Jisung.
They heard the door open and closed, and sharp footsteps approach their coffins. That was when Jisung remembered the bottle of oil sitting next to the coffin and their clothes thrown about the room like they had gone insane.
"The oil." Jisung whispered, quiet enough for Minho to barely hear. Minho's eyes widened but Jisung could see him try to hold back a laugh.
"Have they no decency?" They heard Jeongin mutter, and Jisung could imagine the way he shook his head.
Jisung smirked at Minho before rocking his hips slightly, enough for both of them to feel it, and Minho looked at him with a face that was definitely a warning, but Jisung didn't listen. Why would he?
He moved his hips again, smiling even bigger when Minho let out a soft breath, obviously holding back.
They listened to the sounds of Jeongin muttering to himself for a few minutes before the door opened again.
"Chan says he needs your help in the kitchen." Won-hee said, still at the door based off how muffled her voice sounded. "I'm busy. Can't you help him?"
"He asked for you specifically."
Jeongin tsk'd, "Fine. Can you take over here? Minho's coffin needs to be polished."
"I'm busy with the guest room. Can't you do it when you get back?"
Jisung imagined Jeongin rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, and he stifled a laugh, rolling his hips again but Minho tightened his grip and stopped him, giving another warning with his eyes. Jisung loved every seconds of it.
"Yes, I suppose I'll have to."
Jeongin set something down and Jisung let out a quiet breath of relief when his footsteps retreated and the door opened and closed.
Minho opened the coffin lid swiftly and planted his feet before thrusting up into Jisung suddenly. Jisung moaned, his face falling into the crook of Minho's neck.
"You couldn't even wait for him to leave, could you?" Minho asked, still thrusting relentlessly, "God, you're filthy."
Jisung clenched at his words and Minho snickered, "You like when I say that, huh? You like it when I call you filthy?"
"Yes!" Jisung cried out, sinking his teeth right into Minho's neck. Minho groaned loudly at the feeling, thrusting faster than he was before, hitting every spot inside of Jisung, "Take it, jagi. Take it like the filth you are!"
Jisung nodded, moaning so loud it started to scratch his throat, "Oh- Minho, I'm- Ah!-" Minho held him tighter, thrusting faster somehow. Jisung was a drooling, babbling, crying mess and he didn't care one bit. Minho felt so good, and he was hitting every spot hard enough that it made Jisung's eyes roll into the back of his head so hard he thought they would get stuck.
"Cum, jagi. Cum for me."
Jisung came on command, biting Minho again and tightening his grip on his shoulders. Minho thrusted one, two, three more times before pulling their hips flush together and cumming directly inside Jisung. He gripped Jisung's ass, holding onto him like he would disappear.
They were both panting when Minho finally released his grip, running his hands up Jisung's sweaty back before wrapping his arms around him and holding him close.
They laid there like that for what felt like hours, neither of them moving. Safe in each other's embrace.
Jisung had never been happier, he realizes. Sure, he'd had happy moments, like when he got his first cat, but none of them compared to being with Minho. Sleeping with him, eating with him. Simply being in his presence was enough to make Jisung's heart rate skyrocket.
Jisung loved him. And he always will.
"Hey, Min?"
Minho hummed, kissing Jisung's shoulder softly, "Yes?"
"Do you think we're like this in every universe?"
"Vampires?"
"In love." Jisung turned his head to look up at Minho who was staring at the ceiling, keeping one hand around Jisung's back while the other fiddled with his hair.
He hummed again, "I do. I'm sure of it." He turned his head to look at Jisung and lay a kiss to the tip of his nose, "We're soulmates, Jisung. Don't you know that?"
Jisung smiled, snuggling closer to Minho as if that was physically possible, "I do." He was quiet for a few more seconds before, "I love you."
Minho kissed the top of his head.
"I love you too."