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fic: for the first and last (bbangsunhak, drink it au)
my current feelings can be summed up in: haknyeon made a dumb, careless choice with irreversible consequences, 100 upped the ante by dealing with it in the dumbest way possible, and now we're stuck in this shitty situation with nowhere to run. a big part of the international fandom acting so naive doesn't help but then again, what else could we expect from such a scenario... sighs. I guess this *is* the best case scenario for the korean fandom/side? but the international fandom is either dwindling to 2019 numbers again or just gonna be nursing that kick to the gut for a long while still. especially since hak's legal battle(s?) could drag on for who knows how long. what pains me the most, though, is tbz stuck in the middle of it all. it must suck so much for them right now. I love you, boyz :(
fandom: tbz
pairing: younghoon/haknyeon/sunwoo
rating: E
content warning: blood, blood drinking, suicidal ideation, allusions to depression, self-harm (self-imposed starvation), temporary major character death, not super descriptive smut.
wordcount: 7800
tags: drink it-inspired vampire au, human!younghoon and vampire!sunhak, "exes" to lovers sunhak, angst, vaguely historical.
a/n: one last goodbye to two of my favorite ships... I think I started this in 2023, definitely finished in 2024 after IWTV S02, and never posted it because it's bad and stupid and not very well written. the idea of bbangsunhak vampires had been on my mind since the drink it mv and I just couldn't get over it. (clearly.) big vampire leader juyeon is a byproduct of the mv btw, as funny as it is to write him like that, just like some lines of dialogue came from the song lyrics. I wanna post it now just to idk, begin the process of letting go by saying goodbye to this au for good. (I am aware how ironic some of the plot and wording is here.)
Being the natural predator of humans doesn’t mean there are no rules. It is imperative that you eat, as it is that you stay away from direct sunlight. Above all, however, is the rule that governs your every move: to stay hidden.
That was a hard lesson for Haknyeon to learn, even harder to abide by. Having to make a choice between being seen and being safe because you can’t ever have both took him time and patience. At last, however, he came to accept it, understanding that darkness offers them the protection they need in more ways than one. The shadows are their natural habitat for good reason.
Haknyeon can say he has made his peace with it now, after countless wrong steps and still stinging wounds invisible to the naked eye. As a being of age, that understanding came with his years. Unfortunately, his fledgling is younger, much more so.
Sunwoo, he supposes, fears nothing because he hasn’t been made to feel fear yet in his five decades in the dark.
Haknyeon keeps a distance on that first fateful night, keenly aware that as inconspicuous as they may be among the wealthy and frivolous, the ball is still a risk with its well-lit rooms and hawk-eyed guests. The chance they take attending is supposed to pay off later, when they’re familiar with faces, titles, connections. They study before the hunt, playing with their food because it's amusing, and practical.
They’re not supposed to pick anyone off the crowd just yet. Not tonight. Sunwoo knows better than to follow a stranger’s invitation to step outside, and yet that’s what he does. Haknyeon watches them go, powerless as he has been for a while now to persuade Sunwoo of what is clearly a bad decision. (A bad omen.) It makes him yearn for the first few years, when Sunwoo would hang onto his every word and treat his opinions as gospel.
No such thing now. Haknyeon would have better luck trying to convince anyone else in the coven.
That night, Sunwoo lets the human take him out to the garden. The human, in turn, lets Sunwoo drink from him. Haknyeon doesn’t have to ask, later when they’re riding back home with the man barely conscious on Sunwoo’s lap, if Sunwoo was the one responsible for it. The worry in his eyes says enough. He didn’t have to glamor the human for that bite, either; Sunwoo had been the one enthralled.
The man is placed in Sunwoo’s room and comes to shortly before sunrise. Frightened, but not as much as one would expect. Sunwoo is there by the bed, holding his hand with an apology ready at his lips.
Haknyeon wants to turn his back and leave, but he stays. Makes himself watch, if anything so he can be sure Sunwoo won’t need him.
“He shouldn’t leave,” Jaehyun says.
They must make a strange sight to wake up to, standing at the foot of the bed in that dimly lit room. Five of them; four, if Haknyeon counts Sunwoo out.
Sunwoo, who turns to glare at the elder. “Don’t.”
“It was your choice to bring him here,” Jaehyun retorts, unperturbed. “Your actions sealed his fate, not my words.”
Junyung speaks next. He addresses the man on the bed. “What is your name?”
Glancing from one to another, the human sits up a little straighter. “Kim Younghoon.” The bite on his neck is still too fresh, the skin around it blemished pink. “I won’t say a word.” He looks at Sunwoo. “I promise.”
Even from Haknyen’s spot by the door, the liveliness of those dark eyes and the rubor of his soft cheeks are so captivating. If Haknyeon hadn’t been there to see the blood on Sunwoo’s lips and feel the weight of Younghoon’s limp body, he wouldn’t assume any feeding had taken place. Whatever blood Sunwoo drew, it was enough to weaken Younghoon, but not kill him, nor snuff his deadly curiosity.
Younghoon looks around the room, at each of them. It feels as if his gaze lingers for a second longer than necessary on Haknyeon before it moves on. There is a silent conversation happening between Jaehyun and Junyung, while Juyeon, who still hasn’t said a word, stares at the man on the bed.
“I vote we end this here,” Jaehyun says after a moment. “Right now.”
Junyung looks anguished. “He promised he won’t say a word.” To Younghoon, he asks, “Can we trust you?"
Younghoon nods, and they all turn to Juyeon. Balling his fists, Sunwoo stands up—if ready to make his case or launch an unwise attack on any of them, Haknyeon can’t tell. Dread pervades his every sense as he waits.
"Haknyeon," Juyeon calls, surprising him. "What do you think?"
Now they all turn to him. Hakmeon meets Sunwoo's eyes, who pleads silently, desperately, a testament to how much this must mean to him. Having Haknyeon hold his fate in his hands again must be agony, understandably so.
Haknyeon can be cruel. He has been, on purpose and otherwise, enough times to leave a mark, both on Sunwoo and on himself. If he really wanted, he could put an end to this discussion altogether. One word from him and that would be it, the human wouldn’t leave this room alive. It's enticing, the thought of bringing things back to normal—he doesn’t take their safety for granted, and right now Younghoon is a risk to that. No matter how distasteful Sunwoo might find it, there is a way to guarantee that risk won’t materialize into a reason for them to leave what should be their new home.
What Haknyeon can't do, however, is hurt Sunwoo like that. Because no matter how ephemeral this may be—or for how shortly that short-lived, imprudent human may be in their much longer lives—, Haknyeon’s decision will affect Sunwoo, and their tenuous relationship as maker and fledgling. If Sunwoo doesn't trust him now, sending his new trinket to an early death might push him even farther away.
And the last thing Hakhyeon wants is to compound on the emptiness Sunwoo is struggling to exist through.
"I say we let him go," Haknyeon says.
Juyeon’s face is inscrutable as Sunwoo turns to him, awaiting his last word. Finally, Juyeon gives a curt nod.
“Then we shall let him go. Have him out of the house before dawn.”
After that, there is nothing else to discuss. They turn to leave, the decision final and unchallenged. At the last second, as Haknyeon starts to follow Junyung out of the room, he catches the human looking at him. It's a mere glance, but that stays with Haknyeon for days to come.
The human comes back, of course. On his own two feet this time, with the knowledge that he's walking into a house filled with monsters and with the trepidation to match it. Haknyeon can almost smell the fear on him upon his return, the skittish eyes and hesitant steps that take him past the sitting room and up the stairs. Once Sunwoo is with him, however, they all stop paying attention.
It takes a ridiculously short time for him to move in. No one is openly against it, even though Haknyeon can’t imagine all of them are happy. Humans are not worth the risk they pose. The coven knows that.
To Haknyeon, it’s bittersweet. The worry that Sunwoo might be making a mistake by risking his life (his heart) is there, ever present, making it hard for him to look away and harder still to keep watching. But in a way, isn't that what Sunwoo deserves? Someone to care for and to care for him in return, for however long that lasts? Isn’t that what will fill the void in Sunwoo’s heart that Hakhyeon has proven unable to fill?
Important questions. Haknyeon does his best not to ask himself them.
-
The first time Haknyeon and Younghoon have a chance to talk, it's by chance.
When he's not with Sunwoo, Younghoon usually takes the company of Changmin or Hyungseo. This particular night, however, the house is quiet. Haknyeon isn't sure where some of them went—he has been outside, in the back, checking the flower beds. He hears Younghoon's soft footsteps and smells the fragrance that seems to follow him before he announces his presence.
“These are beautiful,” Younghoon says. His voice is low and gravely, genuine politeness in his tone. "Did you plant them yourself?"
Haknyeon harbors no ill will towards the human, but he has no intention to get any closer to Younghoon either. He measures his words, considers how to best approach this.
"Yes. Some of them, anyway." A pause. "Chanhee started the garden years ago, I just look over it.”
The moon is high in the sky. Haknyeon hears Younghoon shuffling his feet but doesn't turn; he pretends to be busier than he really is.
"Chanhee... Does he ever leave his room?"
Why do you care? "No. Not for a while, at least."
“Sunwoo seems fond of him."
“It would be easier to narrow down the people Sunwoo isn’t fond of."
In the silence that follows, the unspoken question hangs in the air between them. Such as you? He regrets speaking, but that wasn't his fault. Youghoon brought up Sunwoo, not him.
Haknyeon still has his back to him.
"You're his maker."
Stating the obvious, is that really a worthy conversation? Haknyeon would have used gloves if he knew he would be so meticulous with this, but he refuses to stand up and keeps going, carefully, getting dirt under his fingernails.
"Do you believe he made a mistake by bringing me in?"
From the front of the house, Haknyeon hears voices. The others are back. This conversation could—should—end here, but Haknyeon turns at the question. Younghoon is wearing a thick coat, the tip of his nose rubbed pink from the cold. His bright eyes watch Haknyeon's movements, from getting up to dusting his hands.
Something strikes as odd about him, but Haknyeon can't quite name what.
“I don’t, no. He enjoys your company.” Haknyeon fixes his sleeves, calmly. “Although if you were to hurt him, I would bleed you dry myself.”
Younghoon only laughs. “I gathered as much, yes.”
The back door opens and it's Changmin calling Younghoon inside, his voice shrill and excited. Younghoon bows his head to Haknyeon and leaves, their conversation now over.
It’s only as he's watching Younghoon's retreating figure, the long coat flapping around thin ankles and the wind carrying his smell away, that Haknyeon understands what felt odd about that exchange.
Not once did Younghoon seem scared of him.
-
The house is big enough, the woods surrounding it quiet enough that with a little patience, Haknyeon can keep himself out of the way. He doesn't need to see Sunwoo's pet human, and he's not worried about Sunwoo taking any more wrong steps - living in a coven begets rules he is bound to follow, and his recklessness can only go so far. It also means the others are there to assist him should the need arise. As such, Haknyeon does what he can to make himself scarce.
Despite his best efforts, he still sees Younghoon often—hanging by the fireplace recently fixed for his benefit, caressing book spines in the library, watching the flower beds from an open window. His presence seems inescapable inside the house, and his absence on the outside doesn't go unnoticed. The rumors, they come to learn soon enough from Youngjae’s prowling around town, are that the young Kim heir eloped with the mysterious, unnamed daughter of a duke. Seeking love or fortune, no one knows; the numerous stories diverge on his motivation.
That doesn't trouble Haknyeon as much as it haunts his thoughts when he least expects it. He wonders what kind of human would choose this life and abdicate a real one - what is the appeal of cold skin over warm skin? Silent heart over a beating one? Why does a healthy young man choose to hide in the shadows and change his days for nights when the sun offers him nothing but joy?
Is Sunwoo's affection really all he needs?
Haknyeon catches them tangled together once, in the dark. He's coming back from the city, having foregone transportation, his feet taking him slowly through the woods instead, when the smell hits him. Sweet and metallic, not too far from where he is…
Now that his senses have sharpened, Haknyeon can hear it too - whimpering, moaning. Clear expressions of ecstasy. A few more steps and Haknyeon sees them: Younghoon is on the ground, his face turned in Haknyeon's direction, contorted in painful pleasure - or pleasurable pain - with Sunwoo on top of him, feeding on his exposed neck. Their clothes are in disarray, one of Younghoon's shoes missing, his shirt half-open. The pale column of his neck gives way to an even paler chest, rising and falling with every labored breath.
Haknyeon is frozen in place, mesmerized by the expression on Younghoon's face when their eyes meet. For the briefest of moments, they're watching each other - Haknyeon watching Younghoon be taken over dead leaves, and Younghoon watching Haknyeon stand there and witness it all. Their eye contact is broken, finally, with Younghoon rolling his eyes at a loud moan, letting Sunwoo take, and take, and take.
Haknyeon leaves as silently as he can. The image is burned in his mind's eye, all the way back home and into his room. The blood running a line across Younghoon's neck; Sunwoo's lips attached to the skin; his open legs, inviting Sunwoo to rut against him; the look of unbridled pleasure as their eyes met and Younghoon welcomed his presence instead of sending him away...
The impression that stays with him is that Younghoon wanted for Haknyeon to find them. To see them, to watch them.
To what end, Haknyeon can’t tell.
-
His efforts to stay away are pointless. Younghoon joins him one night in the garden, and makes himself useful.
It distracts Haknyeon. The more he tries not to think of Younghoon, the more details he retains about him - how careful his bony fingers are, how charming his brow line is behind the hair falling over his eyes; how, if Haknyeon focuses hard enough, he can hear Younghoon's heartbeat and all the hidden truths it reveals once they're close.
And the patience, too. Younghaon doesn't pry, doesn't question Haknyeon’s painstakingly gentle approach to the roses. The companionship, freely offered as it is, unearths something in Haknyeon he no longer has a name for and refuses to reckon with. It reminds him, painfully so, of Sunwoo.
After a few nights of the same routine, Haknyeon has had enough of pretending like he’s not slowly crumbling on the inside. He pulls his hands away from the dirt and yanks his gloves off, suddenly angry with himself, with Younghoon, with those flowers that only seem to live so that one day they can die.
"Is something wrong?" Younghoon asks.
The image of Younghoon on that forest floor with Sunwoo drinking his blood is like watercolor on the walls of his mind. He ignores Younghoon and leaves for the safety of his bedroom where loneliness, as familiar as it might be, doesn’t have a face.
-
"When did you last feed?"
Haknyeon turns to the other side of the bed, his back now to Juyeon. The light spilling from the half-open door penetrates the otherwise impenetrable darkness of his room; it irritates Haknyeon immensely.
“Answer me.”
The authority in Juyeon's voice is couched in gentleness, but undeniable.
Haknyeon mumbles, "I don't know. A few weeks."
“You have been in this room for just short of twenty moons, Haknyeon. That is not ‘a few weeks’. Look at me." Against his every wish to stay in his dark nothing, Haknyeon complies. He sits up and meets Juyeon's eyes. The elder presses his lips into a thin line. "Oh, Haknyeon.”
He doesn't need to say it. Haknyeon can feel the stretch of dry skin over his cheekbones, the thirst made apparent on his colorless lips. Their species may not die from starvation, but their bodies reflect the malnourishment all the same.
The truth is that he didn't realize. In his head, only really a handful of weeks have passed by as he languished in that dark room with covered windows. If not for his nature, that rouses him as soon as the sun is down, he would've been asleep this whole time. Here, with his eyes closed, silence makes him company.
He's not sickly, he wants to say, but before he can, Juyeon has climbed onto the bed and sat next to him, their backs against the headboard. Without a word, Juyeon bites onto his own wrist until blood spills over. He pulls back and offers his wrist to Haknyeon, who feels ashamed to refuse - he knows, guiltily, even as he latches onto the wound to suck on the bitter blood, that this will hurt Juyeon. Their numbing venom doesn't work on themselves; Juyeon whimpers but makes no move to stop Haknyeon from feeding on him.
His blood is bitter, much thicker than human blood. To Haknyeon, who hasn't fed in so long, it doesn't matter—the difference is noticeable but irrelevant. It's blood. His senses grow into focus the more he drinks, the fogginess of his thoughts slowly dissipating.
Juyeon lets him drink longer than strictly necessary. He wraps his bloodied wrist in a handkerchief once it’s done and examines Haknyeon with sharp eyes.
"Tomorrow, we're going hunting. You and I.”
"What if I don't want to?"
“You must. I won't let you rot in here all by yourself.”
"But you let Chanhee."
Juyeon's eyes narrow slightly. "Chanhee has his reasons to stay inside, but he feeds. Jaehyun makes sure of that. He's not killing himself."
Haknyeon huffs. "It's not as if this would kill me."
"It might," Juyeon says. "Maybe your body survives, but does your mind? Your heart? Is that not also a death, only by a different name?”
When Haknyeon doesn't answer, too embarrassed to speak, Juyeon stands up. He stops by the door, turns one last time.
"You should know I was asked to intervene. I'm not the only one worried about you.”
He leaves Haknyeon with his thoughts and the door open, the light breaking Haknyeon from his stupor as much as the fresh blood in his system.
-
Once Haknyeon joins the daily comings and goings of the house again, he sees what Juyeon meant.
Sangyeon and Youngjae both offer to help Haknyeon with hunting, if he doesn't feel like doing it himself; Junyung suggests, quietly and away from prying ears, a similar arrangement to what Chanhee and Jaehyun have, offering his own blood to keep Haknyeon fed without the need for hunting; Hyungseo, in his reserved way, simply offers him company when Haknyeon finds himself alone.
It's the flower beds, however, that give Haknyeon pause.
They're impeccable. Tended and thriving, as if someone has been caring for them while Hakngeon languished in his room. For a while, Haknyeon tries to convince himself that it must've been Chanhee, the first person to ever care for that garden, but-
"I did my best to replicate what I learned from you,” Younghoon says one night, his scent preceding him as always. "I'm not sure, though... I think they missed you."
He looks as stunning as the smile he gives Haknyeon. In a black button shirt that exposes his marked neck, he looks like one of them, if not for the rubor of his cheeks. Haknyeon answers his smile earnestly, this time refusing to ignore the gesture for the kindness it is.
"You did a remarkable job,” he tells Younghoon. Then, "Thank you. For looking after them."
"My pleasure.”
Haknyeon can tell Younghoon isn't done. The wind blows a little harder, brushing the silky strands of Younghoon’s dark hair.
"Can we talk? Privately?"
Even though they're the only ones outside, Haknyeon nods. He glances up at the house, at one of the windows where he thinks he glimpses movement. It's so quick that he can't convince himself he didn’t imagine it.
He follows Younghoon away from the building, towards the woods. Cautious, but not scared. If there is someone that should be fearful here, it's the human walking into the woods with a predator on his heels.
Younghoon stops just behind the line of trees, where it’s harder to see and hear from the house, as Haknyeon understands. He licks his lips absentmindedly when Younghoon stands in front of him—taller, warmer, and worlds braver.
It doesn't matter that Haknyeon is stronger, or deadlier. Here, Younghoon is the one certain of what he wants. What he needs. Younghoon’s charm isn't a gimmick like theirs—he can get them to do his bidding willingly, and gratefully. One drop of his blood and lust would do the job, get them on their knees for more.
As if hearing Haknyeon’s thoughts, Younghoon reaches for his own neck, fingers pulling his shirt collar aside. Without breaking eye contact, he turns his head slightly to the side.
An offer.
"Sunwoo is fine with it," Younghoon says. He swallows, and Haknyeon follows the bobbing of his Adam's apple, entranced. “He wants you to.”
“But do you?"
Bloodlust is making it hard for Haknyeon to ignore just how delectable Younghoon smells. He takes a step closer to test it - Younghoon doesn't even flinch.
"I’m the one asking, aren’t I?"
It's a low-voiced, vulnerable confession. It rings like please.
Weeks of nothing but hunger, and suddenly this. Past sheer desire to taste the blood he has started to crave despite his better judgment, Haknyeon understands this is not mere coincidence—his hiding away in a dark room made Younghoon drop all pretense and just bare his neck for him, no more half-words or lingering looks. He’s asking Haknyeon to feed from him not just for his own sake, as he might have before, but for Haknyeon’s too.
I was asked to intervene. Sunwoo wants you to.
Haknyeon goes for a bite.
Blood fills his mouth and every corner of his thoughts - the sweet, life-bound liquid the tastiest Haknyeon remembers encountering in a while. He thinks he can distinguish Sunwoo, too, like a note in a fragrance, the aftertaste that lingers on.
Younghoon goes limp in his arms—awake, but yielding himself so completely that Haknyeon is the one to hold him up, making it clear that Younghoon knew what he was about to offer, and how he would react to it when it happened. That’s why he needed to be away from the house, then. Why he wanted the privacy of shadows.
Carefully, Haknyeon sets him down on the ground. He takes only enough for a taste - both for him and for Younghoon -, then licks around the wound to help the cicatrization process. His bite mark is different from Sunwoo’s-his fangs wider apart, lower in the neck, but the combination of both wounds makes for such a fascinating picture that Haknyeon caresses the tender skin. Beneath him, Younghoon exhales with a small shudder.
Worried, Haknyeon asks, “Does it hurt?"
Younghoon shakes his head and turns his face to meet Haknyeon’s.
His eyes are unfocused, shimmering with unshed tears. Beautiful. Haknyeon leans down to take Younghoon’s trembling lips in a kiss.
Younghoon runs his tongue over Haknyeon’s fangs and it's decidedly erotic, a confession that this, to him, is the equivalent of foreplay. It’s what he does with Sunwoo, Haknyeon gathers, letting Younghoon's hands roam his body—something of theirs that luckily, blessedly, Haknyeon now gets to have a taste of.
Younghoon is the in-between. Kissing his lips is an indirect way to kiss Sunwoo’s; drinking his blood means indirectly taking some of Sunwoo’s blood. The thirst for Younghoon’s warm pulse and the longing for that who was once his true companion get confused into one overwhelming hunger.
The trees are their only witness, quiet as they are. And after Younghoon finally reaches the high he has been looking for, there is no other path to take other than to give him more of it. Much, much more.
-
Sunwoo is never with them, but he's never far, either. When Haknyeon can’t smell him on Younghoon's skin, he can feel him close; maybe a door away, or just around the corner. That becomes such a constant in their encounters that one night, when Younghoon slides onto his lap in the study and Haknyeon can't feel Sunwoo's presence, he hesitates.
"Wait,” he says, but doesn't contime, because wait for what, exactly? Younghoon is patient, sitting still on his lap, fingers playing with the hair behind Haknyeon’s ear...
There. Sunwoo has just walked up the stairs. His footsteps seem to mimic the rhythm of Younghoon’s breathing, closer and closer until the door creaks open.
This door. The door to the study.
His eyes land on them, Haknyeon sat on the sofa, Sunwoo’s pet human on top of him. There is no reaction. No challenge, either. It could've all been planned by the two of them, of course, this moment right here - but it doesn’t look like it. Whatever Sunwoo was expecting to find, this wasn’t it.
Sunwoo speaks to Haknyeon. "Don't stop on my account," he says. On Haknyeon’s lap, Younghoon squirms minutely. "I’m sure this is what he wanted."
Haknyeon looks up - Younghoon is smirking. It's mischievous, devilish. Yes, he knew exactly what he was doing when he approached Haknyeon tonight; he definitely arranged for Sunwoo to find them here, in these circumstances.
“The question is,” Sunwoo continues as he slowly walks over to them. “If this is what you want too.”
Anticipation turns his thoughts into sheer desire, and worry into hope. His grip around Younghoon’s waist grows firmer when he is presented with what he didn’t dare dream of not long ago.
Surely, they must see it. His desperation. When Sunwoo touches Younghoon's shoulders, his eyes are still on Haknyeon, alight and intentional in a way Haknyeon hasn't been on the receiving end of in decades. Sunwoo must know how ready Haknyeon is to give himself to this; he's only waiting to hear it from Haknyeon’s lips.
“Yes,” Haknyeon says, taking hold of Younghoon’s chin to keep him from moving his head. At that word, Sunwoo leans down to put his hands on the back of the sofa and lock Younghoon between them. "This is exactly what I want."
He sinks his fangs and knows, from Younghoon’s gasp, that Sunwoo did the same on the other side of his neck. This isn’t as much about feeding as it is about letting go of inhibitions and answering to desires long dormant; they’re catering to Youghoon's spoiled need to feel taken on the whims of his masters and reveling in the excuse to meet in between. It's a fantasy on all accounts, but one the three of them are happy to dwell in.
If presented with the chance to indulge, why wouldn’t they savor every last drop of it?
Sunwoo breaks away first. He must be more familiar with Younghoon’s limits. His chin is covered in blood, his pupils blown wide. Haknyeon is so eager to kiss him that when Sunwoo’s lips meet his, he groans in relief, sharing the sweet taste of Younghoon's blood on their tongues.
The night proves young. They push Younghoon to the limits of his mortality, almost to the point of no return, his complexion ashen by the time they’re through. His body, naked and inviting, becomes a canvas for their marks; purples and pinks and reds creating the most alluring of paintings. Sunwoo must think the same, watching intently as Haknyeon sucks hard enough to bruise the pale skin of Younghoon’s thigh, fingers buried deep within him.
Younghoon feeds on Sunwoo, too. Late into the night, when his heartbeat is so weak that it gives Haknyeon pause, Younghoon needs vampire blood to keep his own veins running. It feels like a rehearsed routine, something they’ve perfected over time. Sunwoo bites into his own wrist, places the gash over Younghoon’s parched tongue, and easily, too easily, Younghoon takes to sucking the blood, inhuman on all accounts, an acquired habit that goes against his own nature.
And they fuck him. First Haknyeon, galvanized under Sunwoo’s gaze, then Sunwoo, incandescent, a little meaner, like there’s some anger in there, some possessiveness over what is not only his to claim anymore. It takes a look and a kiss for him to let it go, to accept Haknyeon’s weight on his back, fucking into him until Sunwoo’s movements cease inside Younghoon and Haknyeon is the one dictating the rhythm of their hips.
It only ends when the sun comes up. The windows here are covered in heavy curtains, so sunlight can’t reach inside, but the drowsiness of sun-up hits them all the same. They kiss the wounds on Younghoon’s neck and Haknyeon caresses the reddish marks on his waist. When he starts shivering, they cover him with the sofa throw and flank him on both sides.
Like this, with Younghoon asleep tucked between them on the floor, Haknyeon finds Sunwoo’s eyes over the top of the human’s head. The scarlet glint is as pretty as ever, maybe more so now, at the far end of a rift that seems to have lasted a lifetime. It makes Haknyeon wish he could say—no, tell—or better yet, explain—
Sunwoo reaches out first. He drapes an arm over Younghoon and Haknyeon, wrist resting on Haknyeon’s hip so his fingers can gently brush the naked skin. It’s a moment, a split second—but for once, Haknyeon feels like he is the fledgling. Raw and vulnerable, he’s ready to follow Sunwoo to the six ends of the world if asked to.
His love for Sunwoo is, for that brief moment in time, akin to thirst. It’s a familiar emotion, a part of his own being he has had to contend with for so long by himself, now back to the surface as strong as it was on the first day—and with a hunger to match the time he has had to keep it dormant.
“He wants to be turned,” Sunwoo whispers, low so he won’t wake Younghoon.
The words are not surprising as much as they are enlightening. Haknyeon looks down at the human between them. With rosy cheeks and a steady breath, he looks much too peaceful considering how close he came to dying tonight, over and over. His blood is still speckled all over the couch and the floor surrounding them, and his deep sleep is a sign that his fragile mortal body has taken enough.
The entire night has been telling indeed, very much so. Younghoon’s self-preservation instincts aren’t just lacking—his actions are deliberate. He’s courting death like a lover, with Sunwoo and Haknyeon as the surrogates. There is no saying no to his request. If they don’t grant him his wish, he will look for it elsewhere; either for someone willing to turn him, or for a way out of this world.
Now that Haknyeon sees that, he understands that Sunwoo would never have said no to Younghoon on that first night. After all, the two are like mirrors. Sunwoo saw his reflection and refused, as is his nature, to walk away without trying to first offer the same helping hand that was offered him a long time ago.
“Will you do it?” Haknyeon asks.
Sunwoo’s eyelids are drooping with sleep but his gaze still burns bright. “You should be the one,” he says. And just like that, Haknyeon is back to being the maker, facing devotion. “I want you to be the one.”
“Why?”
“Because you are patient,” Sunwoo explains. “You are strong. You won’t give up on him even if he begs you to. And even at his most self-loathing, even when he comes to realize that it is not his fault and he had no reason to blame himself for so long, he will never feel truly alone.”
It has been almost a decade since they were last intimate. Probably twice as long since Sunwoo last looked at him like this—reverential, with his heart laid bare. Their skins touching, it’s almost as if Haknyeon can still feel Sunwoo’s lips on his, tasting of Younghoon’s blood. But the words are the ones to reach deep, past all the slowly crumbling walls around his heart.
Haknyeon takes Sunwoo’s hand and brings it to his face to kiss his palm, then his bruised wrist. He understands, his lips say without forming words. He will be there, he conveys with his gaze, until eternity.
“I will do it,” Haknyeon says. “But be there with me. He can have both of us.”
With a small yet beautiful smile, Sunwoo nods. Then it’s settled.
—
They have the house for themselves when the right night comes. With the full moon high in the sky, Sunwoo finishes digging the grave and throws the shovel aside.
Standing next to Haknyeon, Younghoon is staring at the hole in the ground.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Younghoon rolls his eyes, as if they’re children, and Haknyeon has just said something inane. “Yes. I thought I had made that clear already.”
“We need to ask,” Sunwoo says before Haknyeon can retort with an equally impatient scoff, walking over to fiddle with the buttons on Younghoon’s shirt and opening the first few. “It will only take if you’re willing.”
Younghoon’s white shirt is now open to his chest. His skin is so pale that it’s almost translucent in the moonlight; that will make it harder for him to hunt on open ground, undoubtedly. Haknyeon is surprised to find himself thinking in those terms, as if Younghoon is already one of them.
“I am,” he says, an answer to Sunwoo’s words that rings like an answer to Haknyeon’s own thoughts. “I promise, I am willing.”
Sunwoo meets Haknyeon’s eyes. They’re here, there are no more preparations to be made. They waited for the full moon and discussed the matter of Younghoon’s turning with the coven in the interim—albeit implicitly, there is an agreement that fledglings are a coven matter. For their own safety, they need to talk through the circumstances together—ask permission, in a roundabout way—and any of them can oppose the making of a new vampire if there is a strong reason for it.
In Younghoon’s case, there is none. He is already in their midst, already one of their own in every way that matters except the most important. If he represented danger at some point, they are past that now.
“Can I try to convince you, one last time, to lie where you stand and let us do it in a way that won’t hurt you?” Sunwoo asks.
Younghoon grins. Even here, his fearlessness is striking. “No.”
“Fine. You have a head start of five minutes.”
Excitement shines bright on Younghoon’s face as he looks at both, right before he takes off running into the woods. They time it to the second, so as soon as the five minutes are up, Sunwoo chases after him, fangs bared.
Haknyeon doesn’t have to wait long. He hears a loud, pained cry and some tussling, and finally joins them.
Sunwoo has Younghoon pinned to the ground on his stomach, thin wrists locked in place. Younghoon’s cheek is bruised, and the collar of his shirt is already stained dark where Sunwoo is fangs deep into his neck. At Haknyeon’s approaching steps, Sunwoo pulls back, all crimson chin and wild eyes. Pride fills Haknyeon’s chest momentarily.
“Lift him up,” Haknyeon orders.
The crunching of dirt under his feet and Younghoon’s raspy breath are the only sounds they hear in the otherwise silent woods. Sunwoo sits up and pulls Younghoon with him until the human is kneeling with his back pressed against Sunwoo’s chest, arms still immobile in a firm hold. Sunwoo punctures the flesh with his fangs again, driving a pained sound from Younghoon, and resumes drinking.
Haknyeon crouches down in front of the human, until they’re eye to eye. The smell of blood—Younghoon’s blood, sweet as it will never be again—is pungent. It makes Haknyeon bare his fangs too. He cups Younghoon’s cheek, shushing him when Younghoon whimpers in surprise at the cold touch.
“Do you take the night?” Haknyeon asks. Sunwoo’s eyes are on him too, drinking the blood from Younghoon and every word from Haknyeon in a nostalgic trance. “Say yes or no.”
“Yes,” Younghoon whimpers out.
“Do you want to cross the boundary into the shadows? Yes or—”
“Yes.”
Sunwoo groans, latched to the wound on his neck. Younghoon’s breathing seems to only get more erratic, his eyes locked onto Haknyeon. It’s such a beautiful view—with moonlight barely breaching the darkness of the woods, the red of Younghoon’s blood is the brightest, most vivid color around.
“As you wish,” Haknyeon says.
In a blink he has lunged forward and sunken his fangs on the other side of Younghoon’s neck. The process goes faster now, Younghoon growing colder to the touch as they feast on him with nothing to stop them this time. His body starts twitching, then thrashing, and Haknyeon can’t feel sorry when his fangs end up ripping more of the skin than intended. They can destroy him tonight, and destroy they do, feeding on him like the inhuman monsters all tales purport them to be.
At the brink, Haknyeon pulls back. The first time he did this, long decades ago, he was shaking, scared beyond his immortal years of doing something wrong. Experience, and the successful turning of his first fledgling, taught him that he can’t get this wrong—it’s innate to him, this sensibility to tell just when to pull away, to know the exact moment when he needs to open his own wrist and place it over a dying man’s mouth.
“Drink it,” Haknyeon commands, gentle where he can, his wrist over Younghoon’s cold lips. Sunwoo is still suckling at Younghoon’s neck, but the pulse is so weak now, there’s barely anything left. With his own blood dripping down Younghoon’s throat, Haknyeon repeats, “Drink it.”
Younghoon breathes his last breath against Haknyeon’s dead pulse, and Haknyeon finally pulls his arm back to dive in and savor the last few drops.
-
Sunwoo is the one who takes Younghoon back to the clearing, carrying him in his arms like Younghoon could be asleep. He hops into the grave and carefully, almost tenderly, places the body on the ground. Then he climbs back out to start the process of covering the hole again, each shovel full of dirt hiding the human deeper into the earth.
The whole time, Haknyeon watches. He may have given Younghoon his blood, but this part of the process he understands is Sunwoo’s. In a sense, Younghoon will be his fledgling as much as he will be Sunwoo’s, even though only one of them will have the blood bond of a maker.
At last, it’s done. Sunwoo lets go of the shovel and turns to him. They exchange a glance. Haknyeon doesn’t know what to say, but that’s not an issue; Sunwoo walks over to pull him into a kiss, of the loving, graceful kind, his longing almost as evident as Younghoon’s taste on his tongue.
Haknyeon caresses his face and Sunwoo nuzzles into his touch. They’re like that for a moment, in each other’s embrace, quiet in the sudden understanding that there are no words for tonight. They’ve exchanged enough bruising words for a lifetime. There’s nothing left to say about what once was—things are different. Sunwoo is different, Haknyeon is different, and Younghoon is now a part of it. A part of them.
Once the moon is gone again in a fortnight, Younghoon will rise, and they will be complete.
—
Younghoon takes to the night as if he never walked in daylight.
His newfound confidence in his prowess and in his nature makes it so he gets closer to the rest of the coven as well. Eleven, as Younghoon wisely points out one day, is a powerful number. Hyungseo commends him on his knowledge of things most humans are ignorant of, and he needs to admit that he’s just relaying something Chanhee told him. The two of them get along well once Younghoon has been turned and isn’t deterred from approaching him. So well indeed that Jaehyun eventually relents and accepts Younghoon’s offer to help with the matter of Chanhee’s feeding.
To Sunwoo, as far as Haknyeon can tell, that is as much of a relief as it is a bit of a loss. Younghoon isn’t all his anymore—if he ever was, even as his pet human—but that only means Sunwoo has more time to be with the others too. He still chooses to be with Haknyeon more often than not, however, especially in the beginning, while the ground is still freshly turned where the grave used to be. As if Younghoon’s awakening, the first he witnesses after being turned himself, makes him seek the safety of his maker.
“Sunwoo is not seeking his maker,” Juyeon corrects him when Haknyeon voices his thoughts. They’re alone, the first to return from hunting tonight, satiated and with eyes glimmering red. “He’s seeking you. Tell me this: do you remember Sangyeon’s awakening?”
“I do.”
“And do you recall this same pull towards me? Did you feel the need to be with me once the coven had claimed a new member?”
Haknyeon considers the question. That was so long ago—they were three, and after Sangyeon’s arrival, they were four. The novelty of it was seeing the process for the first time: the draining, the burying, the awakening. Changmin had been in a state of nerves for the two moons it took for Sangyeon to turn, but once he was there, as one of them, the changes were merely a formality. Haknyeon hadn’t felt any different. Changmin hadn’t suddenly sought Juyeon’s embrace, nor had any of them for the awakenings that followed.
“No,” Haknyeon admits. “But perhaps Sunwoo is still young. Perhaps it’s still too recent in his memory—his turning, that is—and that makes his instincts too strong for him to ignore.”
“Perhaps,” Juyeon argues, patiently, “you are mistaking his intentions for his instincts. Allow him the same consideration you allow any of us. Treat his choices for what they are, and accept his heart if that is what you desire. He chose not to be by his maker’s side for a long time, and that should be enough to tell you Sunwoo does nothing against his will, regardless of what his instincts may lead him to do.”
And that is when Haknyeon learns another hard but equally as important lesson: that sometimes it’s wise to quieten the voice in his head that tries to frighten him into doubting the love his heart is certain of.
—
The next few years are the best of Haknyeon’s existence yet.
They are careful with visits into town, as careful as they have ever been, since they all quite like this area. It’s easy to get lost in the ever-growing bustling of people, in any case; Youngjae becomes their eyes and ears in the city with a little guidance from Younghoon, who grew up knowing those streets—and those people—like the back of his hand. That grants them the confidence to stay, and thrive, and not worry much about the world outside.
Haknyeon thrives, too. The safety of the coven and of his companions makes it so he can flourish on his own terms—even the garden in the backyard grows, almost in direct relation to the frequency of his smiles. Younghoon is the one to point that out one night, while they’re taking a bath, saying, “I’m glad I’m here to see that. Your smile,” he explains, when Haknyeon looks at him questioningly. “You have a beautiful smile.”
Centuries haven’t been enough to teach him how to receive a compliment as earnest as this, so he lets out a strangled little chuckle. “Look who’s talking.”
“Exactly. I should know how to appreciate beauty, I was born with it,” Younghoon says, so matter-of-fact that it takes a moment for Haknyeon to understand the teasing meant to draw another smile from him.
He gives in, laughing and shaking his head in feigned defeat. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“You did, and that’s why I love you.”
Younghoon leans in, sloshing the water on the bathtub to catch Haknyeon’s lips in a kiss that distracts him from realizing Younghoon has just told him he loves him for the first time.
Luckily for him, it is only the first of many, uncountable times.
—
“Say it again,” Sunwoo begs in his ear.
Just then, Younghoon’s hand worms its way inside Haknyeon’s shirt, underneath the waistcoat, slender fingers staking their claim. Haknyeon bites his lip.
“I love you,” he says.
“Again.”
Haknyeon turns his head to kiss Sunwoo. “I love you,” he repeats against his lips, welcoming the maddening pressure of Sunwoo’s hand on his crotch massaging him through his pants. He turns to the other side to search for Younghoon’s lips and whisper mid-kiss, to him this time, “I love you…”
“How much?”
Younghoon reaches for his waistcoat and in his eagerness to have it open, ends up ripping the buttons off. He giggles, unburdened by the guilt of ruining what was a very nice piece of clothing—Haknyeon means to say something about it, but then Sunwoo is opening his pants and slipping his hand inside to cup Haknyeon through his underpants, and all he can do is hiss.
“How much, my love?”
Haknyeon’s fangs are fully out and his cock is hard; it’s a good thing they’re getting farther and farther from the ball.
“Answer them already,” comes Changmin’s voice from the seat up front, where he’s driving the carriage away from the curious eyes of the wealthy and stupid. “It’s starting to get tiresome.”
Haknyeon and Younghoon laugh, and Sunwoo throws the mask he wore to the ball in Changmin’s direction without looking. But then his hand is on Haknyeon again, purposeful, hungry, and the giggling unravels into a moan. On his other side, Younghoon dives to kiss his collarbones, fangs grazing skin.
Pressed between two bodies, being whispered sweet nothings in between kisses, Haknyeon finds it hard to let his mind slip into absolutes—nothing is as certain as this. All his doubts, all his questions, none of it is as solid as the hands on his body, hands that are as desperate for him as he is for them. There is no second-guessing this. No stone walls to build around himself, or his still heart. Like this, there is just them.
And Haknyeon can’t seem to get tired of gorging himself on it.
“Endlessly,” he whispers against their lips. “I love you endlessly.”
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