Chapter Text
A sudden loud banging shocks Jungsu out of his dream. The noise is persistent, carrying a feeling of urgency that can be felt through each pound that echoes on the wood. Though soon, whoever is outside can no longer keep up with that urgency, and the noise ceases.
Jungsu peels himself out of bed, the harsh bite of winter air nips away at his skin as he hurries to his feet, not even considering his slippers as he rushes to see who's at the door.
He has not one idea who would be pounding at his door at this hour, but he's confident that it can't be someone with any bad intentions. If somebody wanted to hurt him in his own home, they surely wouldn't announce themselves in such a way.
He steps to the door, peering through the peephole. Nothing. There's nothing at all outside— All Jungsu sees are his little Halloween themed trinkets that litter his porch and the dried patch of grass in his front yard. His hands find the doorknob and clicks the lock open. Obviously the most unwise decision he could make in this kind of situation. If this were a horror movie, Jungsu would be the most predictable protagonist.
For a moment he swears he hears something on the other side. Something strained, but somehow relieved. Jungsu feels his chest tighten as he hesitates.
That hesitation only lasts a moment before Jungsu proceeds to swing the door open. All at once, Jiung falls forward onto Jungsu’s chest. Startled, he stumbles backwards. One, two, maybe four steps back into his hallway. Jungsu’s heart is pounding as he pulls his hands up to steady Jiung, and he can’t miss the pained sounds that escape the man.
Jungsu takes a moment to take in his surroundings, one look toward his open door, a glance down to the feet of his surprise visitor. But when Jungsu’s eyes move up to meet Jiung’s, he finally realizes the severity of the situation.
With swiftness, Jungsu guides his lover over to the sofa, kicking the door shut before he strays too far. He settles Jiung onto the cushions and takes a step back to look him over properly.
He looks awful, like he'd been mauled and left for dead. Jungsu's eyes dart all across his body, taking in the rips and tears in his clothes and the barely-concealed wounds he can spot past the shredded fabric. The angry, red bite marks along both his arms- vampire bites, he ascertains, and deep ones at that- And the bruises blooming around each of them.
The more Jungsu looks, the more he notices. Jiung's hand is wet, smeared red and shiny where it lays limp in his lap. Jungsu's eyes snap back up, and he sees it; Six particularly deep puncture marks at the base of Jiung's neck where a vamp must've drawn away too quick, the wound still pulsing enough blood for Jungsu to wonder how he even made it to his place without succumbing to his injuries.
And then, when he finally meets Jiung's eyes, wet and filled to the brim with both fear and a sort of acceptance, it all clicks into place. He has enough experience to be able to see the signs.
He frowns, eyebrows pinched tightly together as he tries to wrap his head around the situation.
He watches the strained motion of Jiung's throat as he swallows, but Jiung still manages to speak, although hoarse, "...Jungsu."
It was like he had to physically force his vocal chords to work. Jungsu winces as the sharp sound hits his ears.
"Jiung, wh-" Jungsu stops before he finishes his thought, eyes scanning Jiung's body over and over again. He knows he'll hardly be able to answer, not now, but he still can't help but ask, "What the hell happened to you?"
As expected, Jiung can only shake his head, the movement causing more blood to pool in the dip of his collarbone and dribble out down his swiftly paling chest. Jungsu's stomach turns.
"Jungsu." Jiung says again, more firm this time, more resigned, "You know what to do."
The corner of Jungsu's lips twitch. He does know what he's supposed to do. He remembers every talk so clearly, but he isn't sure if he can follow through now that it's more than hypothetical.
The reality becomes even clearer as Jungsu sinks to his knees before Jiung. He watches numbly as Jiung’s body folds underneath his weight. His head ducked down in an effort to avoid what's inevitable.
Jungsu’s fingers clench around the fibers of his carpet as he hazards a glance up at Jiung, whose severe expression has immediately softens in the face of Jungsu's weakness. Though that changes to a grave, knowing look as he watches Jungsu scoot closer.
"You can't hesitate, Jungsu," He croaks, jaw tight and chest heaving with the effort, "You know what happens if you hesitate."
'You'll probably have to kill me either way'is left unsaid, but hangs heavy between them. It's hardly a win for Jungsu's mental state.
Jungsu notices now that Jiung is shivering. His fingers twitch and his body trembles like a leaf caught in a frigid breeze, and Jungsu knows well that he's running out of time.
"I don't think I can," Jungsu chokes out, voice hardly a whisper, "I can't do it, Jiung. I'll figure something out, but I- I can't do this."
Nothing but silence above him. When he turns his gaze back up to Jiung, Jungsu swears he feels his own heart freezing over. Jiung is sickly pale and still like a marred porcelain doll. Jungsu reaches up to cup his face, to see if he's still there in the moment, just to find that his skin is burning, feverishly hot to the touch, and with a glance down to his already-healing wounds he quickly finds the cause.
His hands fall away from Jiung's cheeks, and he scrambles back to his feet. Reality starts to crash down all around him-. There's really not much within his capability that he can do for Jiung that doesn't circle back around to cutting his life short, and to that end, he's already failed.
Jungsu forces himself out of his thoughts. He needs to think of something, anything, and he needs to think fast.
A trembling breath escapes him as he paces around the living room. Every second he spends in deliberation is another second of Jiung’s life wasted away.
"Okay," He breathes out, trying his best to drive his panic to the back of his mind so that he can think straight, "I should.. restrain him..?"
He winces at the thought, regret already rising up his throat, but it's all he can come up with. If Jiung were to wake up in a frenzy, he could hurt himself, or..
Jungsu swallows, clears that thought and snaps into action. He can't be sure how much time he has when it comes to something like this.
Simple rope should be strong enough to hold him. There’s no way Jiung could have any strength left when he wakes up, considering how rough his condition is. He'll be weakened, or at least, Jungsu can only hope as much.
He gets to work, makes a pointed effort to ignore the way it stings when his fingers make contact with Jiung's heated skin. He murmurs a little apology as he tightens Jiung's bindings, well aware that the words are falling on deaf ears at the moment.
Jungsu stands, takes a little step back, and his eyebrows twitch downward as he thinks about his predicament. He's just had to tie up his decidedly half-dead boyfriend, in case he becomes a danger to himself or others. He can't even say it's bizarre, either, because they've spent so many years prepping themselves for such a scenario.
His eyes find the nearest clock, and he notes that it's only been about twenty minutes since Jiung.. died. Going off of his injuries, Jungsu guesses he still has a little time to figure out his next move. Something to eat..?
He shudders at the thought of having to poach some poor creature to feed to his boyfriend, but he doesn't particularly want to be the only food source he sees through the fog when he wakes up either.
He ends up calling in a favor with a fellow hunter friend of theirs. He lies, claims he needs some blood for some non-descript tests he's running. Whatever the case, the bags arrive quickly and safely, and he shoots his buddy a grateful text as he puts them up.
When he returns to Jiung, it's with a rag and a bucket of warm water. His body may be capable of regeneration, but the caveat of self healing wounds is that the mess remains .
He wrings the excess water out of the rag and gently pushes Jiung’s shirt up before pressing the damp cloth down where a deep wound had once been. He brushes the memory away with the blood and grime that's caked itself onto Jiung's skin.
It's repetitive, the constant wiping away of blood and then cleaning the rag. But having something to do with his hands brings him a little peace of mind, if nothing else.
As he wrings the rag out once more and leans up to wipe at Jiung's neck, he feels him stir beneath his fingertips. Jungsu freezes, stupidly, and the towel almost falls from his hand as he fumbles to get up.
He can't do anything but stare as Jiung slowly begins to wake. He groans, as if he were merely waking up from a regular old nap, and then he suddenly doubles over, an agonized cry tearing its way out of his throat.
It's enough to immobilize Jungsu completely, rag slipping from his fingers and falling unceremoniously to the floor. The sound causes Jiung's attention to shift, glassy eyes instantly snapping to Jungsu, but he finds no animosity in them. The only thing Jungsu can see when he gazes into Jiung's eyes is pure anguish. And it's all because of him.
A flash of teeth, razor sharp and uncontrolled. Jungsu wonders idly if they're cutting into the soft flesh of Jiung's mouth before he remembers just where he is and what's happening.
"Jungsu," Jiung slurs, shiny new fangs sorely unfamiliar in his mouth, "It hurts.."
His words leave his lips in a whine, and Jungsu's heart clenches painfully in his chest as he takes another step back.
Jiung's eyes follow his movements as if he were locked onto a target. Every step Jungsu takes further away from him seems to cause him physical pain, and when Jungsu disappears from his bleary field of vision and into the kitchen, a sort of sob wracks Jiung's chest.
Jungsu leans his weight against the kitchen counter, tries to block out Jiung's pained cries for just a moment while he gets himself back under control. He doesn't even know what he should've expected. This is a second chance that neither of them would've ever asked for, he can't imagine he'd have woken up in any better a state.
Jungsu heaves a shaky sigh, rakes a hand through his hair and tugs in a futile effort to ground himself, and snags a blood bag on his way back out of the kitchen.
Jiung's eyes are back on him the moment he reenters the room, and Jungsu can already feel his fragile resolve slipping away.
Really, he's still not even entirely sure how to navigate this situation they've found themselves in. If it were anybody else, he might've dispatched them with ease, but.. This is still Jiung. Hungry as hell, sure, a little out of his mind, definitely, but still. His Jiung.
He takes a few timid steps closer, and Jiung leans with the motion. For whatever reason, he seems to settle down with the proximity, but Jungsu maintains fair distance. Minimizes the risk factor for them both.
From where he stands now, he can see Jiung— rather, the state of him— much clearer. The wet tracks down his cheeks, and the minute twitches of his body as it works hard to bounce back from his very recent death. He watches Jungsu's every movement just the same way he always has, but now with a hazy, unfocused gaze.
Jiung's eyes jump down to Jungsu's hands and Jungsu watches his lips twitch, trapped between hunger and pure disgust. Jungsu wets his lips and steps closer, fingers already twisting off the cap at the same moment as Jiung looks poised to speak out.
"I know," He says cautiously, "But you need to. Don't bite.. Okay?"
He knows well that he can't fully trust any response from Jiung while he's not in his right mind, but he still feels emboldened to move closer when he nods.
Jungsu tries to swallow down his anxiety, hesitation weighing heavy in his bones all the way down to his fingertips as he finds the will to lift the bag to Jiung's lips.
His fingers curl gently into the plastic when Jiung's mouth closes over the opening, and he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He lets a little tension seep out of him when, true to his word, Jiung makes no move to bite him.
Jungsu lifts his other hand to rest on the crown of Jiung's head, but the touch comes a bit too suddenly, maybe a bit too heavy handed, and Jiung flinches away, deep red spilling down his chin.
"Ah.." Jungsu frowns, eyes chasing the droplets as they trickle down to Jiung's already ruined shirt, "Too much?"
He's about to pull away when Jiung nudges his head up into his hand, eyes falling shut. He seems leagues calmer now, and Jungsu wonders if it's because of the blood, or if Jungsu's familiarity is soothing to him even with the fog over his mind.
Jungsu deduces that even if Jiung could've been a threat, he's relaxed enough now that he feels confident in removing his bindings, setting the blood bag aside and making quick work of the ropes.
He combs his hand through Jiung's slightly overgrown hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp. He slides his hand down to cup his pale cheek, and both fondness and something sharper dig deep into Jungsu when he leans into his warmth.
Something sickly swirls in Jungsu's gut, all his emotions he's barely managed to keep at bay come together at once to weigh heavy on his shoulders. All his guilt, his shame, his sorrow, the weight of what he's allowed to happen to Jiung, all because he couldn't bear to lose him.
He takes Jiung's face into both his hands, thumbs smoothing over his cooling skin, over the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Jungsu doesn't even realize he's started tearing up himself until his eyes go completely bleary, and he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.
"Jiung.. god, 'm so sorry." He sniffles and falls into a crouch before Jiung, his head dropping as his expression twists into something pained, "I'm so—So selfish, this is the last thing you would've wanted, and I-"
"Jungsu." He feels Jiung's hand on the back of his head, fingers lacing into his hair, "Stop that."
Jungsu wipes away his tears before looking up, and Jiung doesn't meet his gaze right away. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, pensive, and when he finally looks back at him, he's straight-faced. Stern.
"What happened, happened. You can't turn back time," Jiung's words are firm and soft all at once- hesitant, like he's still refamiliarizing himself with the feeling of speaking, "It's no good beating yourself up about it now. All we can do is adapt, just like we always have."
Jungsu's face screws up in response, and he can't help but avert his eyes, a heavy sigh at his lips, "Like we always have..? It's not that simple this time, Jiung."
Jiung's fingers tighten in his hair right at the back of his neck, just enough to bring his attention back—enough to make him focus, "It is that simple. There's no other choice."
It's silent for a while, Jungsu unsure how to respond. Eventually, he just gives a hesitant little nod. It's the best he can really manage, at this point.
Jungsu sniffs, then finally pushes himself up to stand, "Well.. How are you feeling?" He tries not to be too obvious about it, but just gives up and says what he's thinking straight up, "We should get you cleaned up."
The sight of Jiung's shredded clothes and the smear of dried blood still lingering down his neck makes Jungsu uneasy, and the sooner they can get him into some clean clothes, the better.
Jiung takes one look down at himself and grimaces, and Jungsu can't help the little giggle that bubbles out of his throat.
He helps Jiung stand, and makes sure he's steady enough on his feet after sitting for so long. He's fine, but Jungsu can't quite let himself leave Jiung alone just yet.
He ushers Jiung off to the bathroom while he fetches some clean clothes, and when he returns, Jiung's already got his shirt off. Jungsu notices it balled up at the bottom of the trash can.
Jiung is staring at his own reflection, and Jungsu's eyes drift down to where he's looking. Down his sides, where the wounds typically should've healed by now, some marks still remain. A frown appears on Jungsu’s face.
Jiung's fingers ghost over one of them, bright red and healing slower than the rest, and sighs, "I guess whoever turned me hasn't been around long either, huh."
Jungsu averts his eyes, scratches his head, and finally sets the clothes down on the counter, "I guess not. But maybe it'll pick up when you've fed properly."
He doesn't look up as he says it. He's getting too up in his own head again, guilt still eating away at his heart like a caterpillar to a leaf. In his mind, he's just as much to blame for Jiung turning, and the only thing he can offer as reparations, is himself.
He pointedly makes an effort not to make eye contact, but Jiung doesn't give him so much as a choice. He hooks a finger under Jungsu's chin and tilts his head, and when he looks his expression is dead serious.
"You know you don't have to do that, Jungsu." He searches his face for a moment. Shifts his grip so he's holding Jungsu's chin between his fingers, "I wouldn't ask you to."
"Well, I want to," He decides to keep the 'I need to' at the tip of his tongue to himself, "I offered. Let me help you."
Jiung's frown deepens, but he doesn't argue any further. For the time being, at least, because Jungsu already knows the conversation is far from over.