Chapter Text
Renjun doesn’t tell anyone that he’s descended from vampires.
See, vampirism is much more fickle than people tend to think. While vampires themselves most definitely exhibited the typical features of vampirism, those supernatural features tended to diminish quickly within their descendents. Even half-vampire children are noted to have only the slight and occasional craving for blood, and by the time it reaches their grandchildren, there is little to nothing at all that would differentiate them from a full-blooded human.
Vampires aren’t entirely uncommon around Jilin, the existence of which is considered one of the best-kept secrets of the small, northern city. The older, pureblooded vampires tended to be secluded in nature, socially evolving to keep to their own in order to prevent being hunted by humans. That didn’t mean they were entirely exclusive, however. The cold climate and relatively shorter periods of daylight in the region had meant easier integration for those interested, eventually coming to the point where nearly every Jilin native has a vampire or three somewhere in their family tree. Renjun has never met his vampiric ancestors, but his grandmother had been the last of their family to exhibit their traits in the form of her beautiful, crystalline ruby red eyes.
The last, apparently, until him.
“Renjun, you’re an entire beat off,” says the trainer, stopping the music.
Renjun stops and bends to his knees, gasping in lungfuls of air. “I’m sorry,” he says towards the instructor. “I”m sorry,” he says again, this time to his members.
The other members of Dream are also tired, but they don’t chastise him. Instead, Renjun sees the worried expressions that they exchange with each other through the mirror. He doesn’t blame them - he’s been off practice all day.
“Teacher, can we take a break?” asks Mark.
The instructor makes a pinched expression. “Fine. Ten minutes,” he says, before stalking off to the side of the room.
Renjun collapses to the floor, and the other members surround him immediately.
“Are you okay?” asks Jaemin, kneeling down to put a hand on Renjun’s shoulder.
Renjun shivers at the contact, and unintentionally pulls his torso away. “I feel sick,” he mumbles, lowering his eyes to the floor.
“Fever?” asks Jeno. He places a hand onto Renjun’s forehead, but Renjun shakes his head. He’s clammy with sweat, but doesn’t feel necessarily like he’s heated. It’s something different, like he’s burning in some other way that he can’t quite explain.
“Water?” offers Jisung, shoving a water bottle into Renjun’s hands.
Renjun cracks the seal on the brand-new bottle and takes huge gulps, finishing half the contents at once. It doesn’t make him feel any better.
“You look super pale,” Chenle says, expression wary. “I’m not sure it would be good for you to practice today.”
“I agree,” says Mark. “Do you want to call your manager? I think it would be best if you went home and got some rest.”
“No,” says Renjun immediately, shaking his head. “No, I just need a moment.” He takes another mouthful of water before getting to his knees and steadying himself up. “I just need…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, promptly passing out the moment he’d stood up.
It’s hot.
Renjun is sweltering, heat radiating from every inch of his body and with a groan he throws off the thick blanket that covered him. Immediately after he breaks out into chills, shivers spreading across his skin like thousands of tiny needles. With a gasp, he pulls the blanket back over himself, only to be met with more and more pain.
He needs - he doesn’t even know what he needs. The lights are off but he recognizes in the dimness that he’s back in his own bedroom, and he slides his hand around the bed looking for his phone. It’s not there, and he ignores the painful protest his body gives him as he climbs off the mattress and towards the door. His eyes hurt at the sudden change in brightness, but Renjun just shakes his head as he makes his way out to the main room of the shared Dream dorm.
It’s Jeno who notices him. “Renjun? You’re - are you okay?” he asks, immediately coming over to him from where he’d been standing in the kitchen.
“Hurts,” Renjun murmurs, and Jeno’s hands come to his shoulders to help him stand up straight. The touch is nice, even through layers of clothes, and Renjun finds himself leaning into him slightly.
“Why did you get up? Do you need something? Are you hungry?”
There’s something radiating from his stomach, Renjun thinks, that’s not too dissimilar to the familiar pangs of hunger. But at the same time he’s not even sure if they’re coming from his stomach, or from all over. “I don’t know?” he says, his voice coming out more like a pathetic whine.
“Renjunnie’s awake?” says Jaemin, the door to his room opening as he comes outside. He must have heard them talking.
“I think he should eat something, he hasn’t eaten since this morning, right?” Jeno asks, dropping his hands from Renjun to turn back to the kitchen. Renjun secretly mourns the feeling of his hands on him, but Jaemin comes up to him a moment later to take over.
“He’s sick, so he should eat porridge,” Jaemin says.
“I don’t know how make porridge,” Jeno shoots back.
“Useless Jeno.” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “I can, but it’ll take a while for it to be ready.”
“Don’t want porridge,” Renjun mutters. “I need something… something cold. I’m so hot,” he whines, feeling heat creep through his body as he says it.
Jeno scratches the back of his head. “Uh,” he says.
Jaemin sighs and pulls a bottle of water from the fridge. “This is all you can have. Go back to sleep and we’ll wake you when the porridge is done,” he says.
Renjun lets Jeno lead him back to his room. He doesn’t turn the light on, but turns on the small lamp that sits on Renjun’s desk, bathing the room in a softer, yellow light.
“Are you still hot?” Jeno asks. Renjun nods. “Okay, do you want to take your sweater off?” He nods again. Jeno brings his hands slowly to the hem of Renjun’s sweater, pulling it up over Renjun’s head with gentle movements. The feeling of fresh air against his skin makes Renjun shiver.
“You really gave us a scare earlier,” Jeno says, smoothing down Renjun’s hair where it’s sticking up. Jeno guides Renjun over to his bed, before sitting on the edge. Renjun slips himself under his blanket and lays his head down.
“What happened?” Renjun asks.
“You passed out,” Jeno says. “We called your manager immediately, and luckily he wasn’t too far away so he was able to drive us back really quick. He also said that if you’re still feeling sick tomorrow that he’ll call a doctor.”
“Us?” Renjun asks hazily.
Jeno smiles. “I came home with you, dummy.”
Renjun’s glad that the room is dark and his face is nestled in the pillows, because he’s sure that his face is flushing crimson. There’s a fluttering feeling deep inside his gut and he wants to ignore it so, so bad. It’s nothing he’s not used to feeling whenever he’s with Jeno, but hearing his deep voice in the privacy of his own bedroom like this seems to be making his feelings so much stronger.
“You didn’t have to,” Renjun mutters into a pillow.
Jeno’s hands come to rest on Renjun’s hair again, brushing his strands. “I wanted to though,” he says. “I was worried.”
The feeling of his fingers against his head is so soothing that Renjun finds himself falling asleep again. He’s only woken up an hour later when Jeno returns with a bowl of freshly cooked porridge in his hands.
“Renjun,” he says, placing the bowl on the bedside table. “Wake up. You need to eat something.”
“Hm?” Renjun says. He shuffles in his bed, managing to pull himself up, and finds himself face-to-face with Jeno. Jeno smiles at him, his eyes disappearing into moons.
“Can you sit up? Or do you want me to feed you?”
Renjun gasps. “I- No! Absolutely not,” he says immediately, and he knows that he’s blushing red again. He’ll blame it on being sick.
To prove his point, Renjun grabs the bowl from the side table and starts spooning it into his mouth. It seems that Jaemin had followed a Chinese recipe rather than a Korean one, meaning the porridge tastes similar to the ones he used to eat back in China. It tastes good, like chicken and spring onions, but Renjun thinks absently that it could be a bit saltier.
“There, I finished it,” Renjun says, shoving the bowl back into Jeno’s hands once he’s done. He’d been hungrier than he thought, finishing the whole bowl easily.
Jeno, who had been watching him eat intently, nods. “Good boy,” he says, patting Renjun’s head again.
Renjun rolls his eyes. “By the way, do you have my phone?”
“Oh,” Jeno says. “It’s in my room, it ran out of battery so I plugged it in to charge. I’ll grab it for you once I put this in the sink.”
Renjun hears the sound of plates clattering, and then Jeno comes back to his room. Renjun eagerly unlocks his phone, and finds that it’s almost midnight. “Oh, I didn’t realize it’s so late already,” he says. The last thing he remembers from before he’d collapsed was it being just past four in the afternoon. He’d seriously knocked out.
“Yeah, I need to sleep too,” Jeno says, making a dramatic effort to yawn. “Taking care of children is so tiring.”
Renjun sneaks a hand under his blanket to pinch Jeno’s leg, who jumps up at the sharp feeling.
“Hey!”
“Get out, I’m going back to sleep again,” he grumbles.
“Alright,” says Jeno, “sleep well then. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Hopefully we won’t have to call the doctor in.”
Renjun nods. “Goodnight, Jeno,” he says, and Jeno closes the door behind him as he leaves.
Renjun feels stellar the next day.
He has absolutely no lingering pain, lethargy, and on top of it all he’s starving. So, he thinks as he saunters into the kitchen just past seven AM, that it’s safe to say that yesterday had been a glitch in the matrix.
The only other person who is awake is Jaemin, and he stares at Renjun curiously. “You look well,” he says as he chews a piece of toast.
“I am well,” Renjun says, pouring milk over some cereal. “I probably just needed to sleep.”
“Huh,” Jaemin says. “Stupid Jeno acted like you were dying.”
“He’s so annoying,” Renjun agrees.
Jaemin raises his eyebrows at him, but doesn’t comment. “You should text your manager then, before he brings a whole hospital over.”
“Oh, damn, you’re right,” Renjun says. He’d completely forgotten how much of a worrywart his manager was. He types a message out to him, and another for the Dream group chat so that Chenle, Mark and Donghyuck can also know he’s feeling fine. His manager texts him back immediately expressing his relief.
“We don’t have anything scheduled for today, right?” Renjun asks.
Jaemin shakes his head. “Day off. Well, Chenle has radio later, but nothing for us here in the dorm.”
“Hm.” After spending half the day sleeping the day before, Renjun doesn’t really want to stay at home. “Want to go play outside later, then?” he asks.
Jaemin frowns. “Are you sure you should be doing that? You collapsed yesterday.”
“That was yesterday,” Renjun whines. “I don’t want to stay inside. I have so much energy, I feel like I’m going to explode.”
“Well I know Jeno plans to go to the gym later, so maybe we could go with him,” Jaemin shrugs. Renjun isn’t a huge fan of the gym, but it’s better than staying at home.
As if on cue, the door to Jeno’s room opens and he shuffles out. “I heard my name, what are you saying about me this time?” he asks between yawns. His hair sticks out in several directions, clearly having just gotten out of bed.
“About how annoying and lazy you are,” Jaemin sniffs.
Jeno grins. “I try my best,” he says. He turns to Renjun. “You’re feeling better?” he asks.
Renjun nods. “I feel like I wasn’t sick at all. No idea what happened yesterday,” he shrugs.
“You were so cute though, you were whiny like a kid and I had to pamper you,” Jeno tells him.
Renjun shoots a glare at Jeno. “Watch it,” he says, and Jeno just smiles back at him. “Oh, and can I come with you to the gym later?” he asks.
“You? The gym?” Jeno asks, staring in shock. Jaemin tries to hide a smile. “I mean, sure I guess, as long as you don’t pass out.”
“I won’t,” Renjun huffs. “I’ll lift more than you.”
Jeno laughs. “Now that is something I want to see. Jaemin, are you going to come too?”
Jaemin looks between Jeno and Renjun for a long moment, before shrugging. “Sure, but I’ll probably just go on the treadmill or something.”
Jaemin isn’t really one for lifting weights, which is nice as it means he can spot for both Jeno and Renjun when they decide to have a go. Jeno’s a bit of a gym junkie at the moment, meaning there is no real way Renjun would be able to lift more than him, but he still makes an effort to reach his previous best. After an hour of bickering Renjun finally taps out, lying on the ground dramatically to catch his breath.
“Weak,” Jeno teases, adding another kilo to his bar.
“Sorry I don’t want to look like an inverted triangle,” Renjun huffs. He sits up, reaching for the bottle of water he’d brought with him. He drinks nearly half of it without taking a breath, only to realize he’s still thirsty and drinks more. Even after letting the water settle he finds that he’s still thirsty, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to be able to drink anymore, so instead he rolls the bottle away.
“You guys fight like you’re married,” Jaemin comments. He’d stopped exercising a while ago and was sitting on a weight bench playing on his phone.
“Ew,” says Jeno immediately.
“Don’t ever say that again,” says Renjun, gagging audibly. “Besides, you two are way more married.”
“We don’t fight though,” says Jaemin. “Our marriage is a happy one.”
“So you two are married?” Renjun asks.
“We’re all married,” Jaemin agrees. “He’s married to both of us.”
“That’s not even legal here,” Jeno says.
“Don’t talk back to your husband,” scolds Renjun.
Jeno rolls his eyes. “You guys are so weird,” he says, before going back to his weights.
In truth, Renjun had been a little anxious about going to the gym after the previous day, but it turned out to be a non-issue. In fact, he’d been able to use all the pent up energy to break his weight record.
The trio step out for lunch soon after, and for some reason Renjun is craving barbecue. There’s a barbecue house near their dorm that they frequent, and Renjun knows what he wants to order the second they slide into the wooden booth near the back of the restaurant.
“Yukhoe sounds so good,” he murmurs, staring at the photo of fresh, raw beef on the menu.
“Oh?” Jaemin asks. “You don’t usually order that.”
“I know,” Renjun says, frowning. “But I really feel like it today.”
Yukhoe aside, they order a set of meat to share between them, and a pot of soybean stew. Renjun feels ravenous, eating two bowls of rice with the meat and stew, and devouring nearly all of the yukhoe alone.
“Geez, are you a garbage disposal?” asks Jeno. “I’ve never seen you eat this much.”
Renjun swallows the cup of water he’d been drinking, and immediately pours himself another. “Dunno why but I’m just super hungry,” he says. “Must be from yesterday.”
“I hope so, because otherwise the rest of us are gonna be going hungry,” Jaemin sniffs.
Renjun glances apologetically at his two friends, and orders a serve of seafood pancake to share.
His appetite doesn’t wane, however. Even in the days after, Renjun finds that no matter how much he eats, he still feels something inside of him that’s telling him it’s not enough. And it’s not just food but water too. He’s drinking way more than he usually does, to the point where he’s going to the bathroom at an annoying frequency, but somehow his throat always feels like it’s on the edge of being parched.
He quietly searches for his symptoms on Naver, and gets spooked after reading the third account of type 1 diabetes that was almost scarily like his own. After scrolling past suggestions that he’s three weeks pregnant, Renjun groans and throws his phone across the mattress, closing his eyes.
Maybe he’s undergoing second puberty or something.
He just hopes it comes with another growth spurt.
Everything comes to a head exactly one week after his first collapse.
Dream are backstage at a television studio waiting for their turn to perform for a charity broadcast. It isn’t anything major but it’s been a while since they’d performed, so Renjun feels a little bit antsy.
“You look kind of pale, dude,” Mark says as his eyes roam Renjun’s face.
The makeup noona had said the same thing too, but then had put blush over his cheeks to hide the pallor of his skin. It must be bad if Mark could still see it.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Renjun confesses.
“Are you going to be okay?”
He nods. “It’s just one performance, hyung.”
Mark nods. Jeno comes up behind him and gives him an affectionate squeeze on his hands. “When we get home we can just curl up and watch a movie. I’ll make sure you sleep well, okay?” he says.
Renjun feels warmth bloom inside him at Jeno’s words, the way he always feels when the other boy is being kind. “Okay,” he says.
The station had requested that they perform one of their older songs, one of the cheerful upbeat ones that were more likely to attract viewers from the general public. They’d spent the last few days re-learning the choreography for We Young, and Renjun almost feels 17 again when the shirt he’s wearing is decked out in white and navy, all the way to it’s round sailor collar.
It’s only when he’s actually on the stage that Renjun realizes that maybe he’s made a mistake.
The stage lights are so bright that he feels like they’re blinding him, and he squints harshly as he gets into his place on stage. They’re hot, too, the heat of them burning through the layers of his clothing and making sweat grow on his forehead already.
The producer calls out and the music starts. Renjun has no time to feel sorry for himself, letting muscle memory take him through the familiar motions of the song. He tries his best to not look too directly into the stage lights, even forgoing eye contact with the camera at times because it’s simply too much.
They’re right in the middle of the chorus when suddenly Renjun’s head feels like it’s being split open. He stumbles, almost running into Jeno as he brings his hands up to his head immediately, teeth clenching in pain. No, Renjun thinks, squaring his jaw. He forces himself to stand up and retakes his place, hoping the camera had been focusing on the other side of the formation.
He makes it to the end of the chorus before his legs seize and he slips to the floor. This one doesn’t go unnoticed by his members, and suddenly three pairs of eyes are looking at him in shock as he tries and fails to get himself back up.
“Excuse me, please stop the music!” calls out Chenle. The song stops abruptly, and Renjun’s surrounded by both his members and also staff from the production crew.
“Are you okay?” someone asks him.
His head hurts. His throat is dry. His hands shake as he tries to push himself up again, and eventually he manages to get himself back on his feet.
“Renjun!” It’s Jeno, his hands coming to rest on his waist to help him up. “Hey,” he says, looking into Renjun’s eyes with worry.
He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. His mouth doesn’t work, and more importantly, Renjun knows he’s about to be sick.
Renjun doesn’t even look back as he runs off the set, down the stairs and into the backstage hallway. He’s been here enough times that he knows where he’s going, even with his blurred vision and shaky footing.
The door to the men’s bathroom swings open, and he makes way for the last cubicle. He locks the door before he immediately empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet. His saliva pools as he gags, and his body heaves pathetically as he shakes against the cubicle wall.
Oh god, Renjun thinks as saliva drips from his mouth down onto his clothes, this is how I’m going to die. Another sharp round of pain shoots through his body, reaching all the way to his skull, and he can’t control the loud groan that escapes him as he tries to make his way through the feeling.
Waves of nausea hit him, and he’s stuck in a seemingly endless purgatory of pain. He can barely keep his eyes open, his head spinning wildly as pain creeps through every nerve of his body.
Outside, the bathroom door slams open.
“Renjun?” comes a voice - Jaemin’s voice. He sounds frantic, his flat sneakers hitting the ground with a squeak as he darts around the room. “Are you in here?”
Renjun tries to keep quiet, to not let Jaemin know he’s here, because if he knows he’ll come in, and then he’ll see and he’ll know-
He coughs loudly, his throat seizing and he collapses against the bathroom wall.
“Renjun!” Jaemin’s right outside the bathroom stall and hitting his hands against the door. “Renjun, I know that’s you. Open the door, please,” he says.
“No,” Renjun manages to say.
“I’m going to crawl under the door,” Jaemin threatens.
“Don’t.”
Jaemin doesn’t reply, and Renjun watches in shock as Jaemin’s hands start to reach under the tiny gap between the door and the floor.
“Jaemin - stop! Okay! I’ll - “ he pauses mid sentence to groan as his head starts to throb. “I’ll open the door. Please don’t crawl on the bathroom floor.”
He waits for a brief respite in his headache before leaning up and unlocking the door. Jaemin immediately circles in on him, crouching down and pulling him into his arms.
“Renjun, everyone’s looking for you. We’re worried sick,” he says. “You can’t just run out on us like that.”
Renjun stares at Jaemin. His face is pink and gleams with sweat, like he’d been running around looking for him. Maybe he had been. Renjun doesn’t know, doesn’t really hear what Jaemin is saying, because all he can do is stare at Jaemin, at the pink of his cheeks, of his lips, pink that spreads all the way to the edges of his ears. He’s so pink and warm, flowing with blood-
“Hey, say something. Do I need to call an ambulance?”
“No,” Renjun croaks. His throat is so dry, and he’s so hot. But more than that, had Jaemin always smelled so good? He leans further into his chest, so that his nose is fully pressed against him, and takes a deep breath in.
“Did you throw up? Is this like what happened to you last week?” Jaemin asks him, using his free hand to stroke at Renjun’s back.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe,” Renjun says. He’d thought that initially, but the pain he’s feeling today is easily twice that of what he’d had the first time he’d collapsed. Today he feels like he’s going to rip out of his own skin. Sharp pain radiates from his jaw, and Renjun starts tearing up immediately. “Oh god,” he whines, squeezing Jaemin’s hand. “Everything hurts,” he cries.
“Shh, it’s okay, Junnie,” Jaemin tries, “wait, let me get my phone. Let me text the others and tell them where we are so they can get some help for you.”
Renjun coughs, and suddenly he tastes blood. Alarmed, he pulls himself back from Jaemin and runs a hand across his mouth. It comes back bloody.
“Oh shit, you’re bleeding!” Jaemin gasps, pulling himself back from Renjun’s hold, his phone dropping to the floor. Immediately he turns, pulling some tissues from the bathroom wall and handing it to him. “Oh my god, what happened to you?”
Pain shoots through every part of Renjun, and his head is in a daze. Jaemin is talking to him, but he can’t hear him. All he can do is taste the blood in his mouth and feel razor sharp teeth against his tongue as he runs it along the top of his mouth. The blood in his mouth that had pooled from where sharp canines had pierced his lips had actually tasted quite good, Renjun realizes. And most importantly, for that split second he’d swallowed it down, the pain in his head had subsided. “Jaeminnie,” Renjun says, leaning forward. His hands pull at Jaemin’s arm and he brings it towards his mouth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, back home in Jilin and curled up on his grandmother’s lap, Renjun knows what this is. “Jaeminnie, please help me.”
“What do you need?” Jaemin asks him, voice trembling. He stares down at Renjun’s shaking frame to find that he has bright, red eyes.
“I just need - I just need you,” Renjun answers finally, before tearing into the flesh of Jaemin's forearm and making him bleed.