Archive of Our Own ^beta

Seokjin’s Saturday night goes as planned, he holes up in his studio apartment, sitting in front of his computer monitor and his obnoxiously pink and cutesy gaming setup, livestreaming to an audience just shy of 1,000, which is the most viewers he’s ever had on a stream before. It’s bizarre to think people would rather stay in on a nice weekend, watching him bitch and moan while playing video games, but he supposes there are more recluses nowadays. With so many horrors out in this world, first Covid-19, then a vampire virus, no one wants to leave the house, and he can’t blame them.

His engagement is unmatched tonight. Comments flood in so fast, he can hardly keep up with them. Seokjin is buzzed with caffeine, his eyes burning ever so slightly, veiny and bloodshot red. His eyes could use a break, but he’s not walking away from his stream any time soon, certainly not at his peak.

Though as his phone vibrates against his lap, his focus quickly drifts.

Incoming Call: Yoongi 🐱💕

Seokjin sucks his teeth. He’s torn. Yoongi only calls at night, after a few too many drinks, when he’s in need of relationship advice he won’t remember the next day.

Seokjin loves Yoongi to death, but he is a creature of habit. His dating resume is tragic. He falls for fuckboys time and time again, a poor co-dependent soul, out with one toxic boyfriend and immediately onto the next. Seokjin has tried shaking some sense into his friend, god, has he tried, but the cycle just repeats. Yoongi can’t go a week without having a boyfriend.

He watches his phone ring, unsure what to do. Who does he leave waiting? His best friend or his audience.

Seokjin sighs, pauses his livestream, and picks up the phone, his soft spot for Yoongi always wins in the long run.

“Hello?”

Seokjin is greeted with heavy static and small heaving breaths.

“Hyung…” Yoongi speaks so faintly into the speaker, it’s nearly impossible to hear him through the background noise. It sounds as if he’s walking beside traffic or possibly a busy train station. “...It’s over.”

“Hello?” Seokjin calls again. “Yoon, I can’t hear—”

“I’m so fuckin’ stupid.”

“What’s going on?” Seokjin asks, gripping his phone tightly as an unsettling feeling stirs in his gut. “Where are you?”

“You were right.” The younger utters frantically, “The red flags. I-I should’ve seen them. I really fucked up…”

“Hold on. Slow down.” Seokjin interjects. “Have you been drinking?”

“I’m never talking to Yijeong again.” Yoongi’s words are both slurred and fueled with resentment. “We’re done.”

Thank God, Seokjin wants to say, but holds his tongue.

“Oh.” Seokjin answers flatly, scratching at his forehead. He extends his fakest condolences, “I’m sorry, Yoon.”

Seokjin is over the moon. He does a silent victory dance as he doesn’t want to offend Yoongi. Where he cares about Yoongi’s feelings, he doesn’t have an ounce of respect or sympathy for Yijeong, never has and never will. Out of all Yoongi’s exes, he would rank Yijeong the worst.

Seokjin can’t think of one good thing to say about the guy. He has no redeeming qualities. He’s a pathetic person, his whole life built upon lies and deception. He never wanted companionship. He wanted control.

Yijeong talks at Yoongi and talks for Yoongi. He would constantly criticize Yoongi’s lifestyle and pressure him to change, change his daily diet, change his interests, change who he spent time with. It is no coincidence Yoongi stopped hanging out with Seokjin since things got serious with Yijeong, certainly no coincidence Yoongi stopped visiting his parents either, Seokjin knows. He often exchanges messages with Yoongi’s mother, so kind and forgiving, she always asks how Yoongi is doing, and he has to tiptoe around the truth.

Yijeong almost convinced Yoongi to move in with him, and thank fuck their application was rejected. Yijeong didn’t pass the background check for whatever reason. Seokjin thinks it was a sign from God.

Yijeong had Yoongi on a leash, and just when Yoongi would start to sense his toxic behavior and stray away, Yijeong would lovebomb him to wrangle him back in.

Yijeong is not just a manipulator; he’s a parasite.

“…He’s a piece of shit.”

“Yeah.” Seokjin nods solemnly. There is no defending someone like Yijeong, who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Yoongi. “He is.”

“Can I come over?” Yoongi stammers, breaking up due to poor connection. “I…I don’t…know what to do…”

Seokjin’s eyes briefly connect to his computer screen. He still has half his audience active in the chat room, waiting for his return, but it won’t be tonight. His evening is reserved for best friend emotional support.

“Come on over.”

“I’ll…be there…soon.”

Their call disconnects.

Seokjin sends his regrets to his viewers and cuts the stream off early. He leaves the comfort of his pink gaming chair to prepare his apartment for Yoongi’s late arrival.

It’s not Seokjin’s first rodeo. He knows just what to do. He checks the refrigerator, making sure it is full of ingredients to make Yoongi’s favorite comfort foods. Seokjin scans the freezer next, finding a sealed tub of ice cream he’s saved just for this special occasion.

He grabs tissues, not one but two boxes, should Yoongi need to cry, hopefully he does not. Yijeong is not worth his time or his tears.

Lastly, he fluffs up his couch with tons of pillows and blankets. Seokjin turns the TV on, finding a cute cat compilation to play on YouTube. These videos have helped Yoongi before. There’s just something about cats and kittens. They have magical healing properties.

Seokjin hangs back for a while, lounging on the couch, watching wholesome kitten clips as he waits for Yoongi. He mindlessly watches a whole playlist of cat videos. Maybe an hour passes. Yoongi should be here by now.

Just as he gets concerned, reaching for his phone to text Yoongi, there’s a feather soft knock on his door.

“It’s unlocked!” Seokjin shouts from the couch.

He hears the doorknob turning, or more so shaking as Yoongi tries to enter. It seems he can’t get the door open and just gives up, thumping his shoulder into it. Seokjin has to get up and grab the door for Yoongi. As soon as he does open the door, he freezes in shock, his heart squeezing in his chest and his blood running ice cold.

Blood.

Blood is all he sees.

His best friend is hunched down, gasping for breath, his hands, neck, chest and torso, covered in crimson red. It looks as if Yoongi just committed manslaughter.

“Oh my god.” He gasps in horror.

Yoongi weakly stumbles inside, making it only a few steps before his knees give out and he crashes. Seokjin catches his trembling friend just in time, cradling him in his arms.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I—” Yoongi chokes out through quick uneven breaths. “I think I was bit.”

Seokjin’s stomach churns.

It can’t be. Yoongi can’t be bit. Yoongi can’t be one of them.

“You were bit?”

“Hyung.” Yoongi’s eyes slowly dart up, half-lidded and clouded, he blinks lethargically. “Am I—Am I bleeding?”

Seokjin scoffs. “Yeah, you’re fuckin’ bleeding.”

“I feel dizzy.” Yoongi speaks, voice hushed and delicate, his eyes rolling to the back of his head not one second later as he falls faint.

Seokjin moves with urgency, ushering his friend to the couch who fights to stay conscious, his little eyelashes fluttering and his lungs grasping for breath. Seokjin sits Yoongi down, stripping him of his leather jacket and his winter layers. Seokjin is overtaken with nausea as he discovers two deep fang puncture marks on the side of Yoongi’s neck.

Seokjin’s whole world crashes.

It’s confirmed. His best friend of thirteen years will lose humanity and turn into a blood-hungry monster but Yoongi will first die a slow painful death.

There is truly no worse fate for his friend.

Seokjin knows Yoongi’s time is short, but he just has to hold himself together. Yoongi needs him now more than ever, so he remains calm and does his best to care for Yoongi. Seokjin hurries to grab his first aid kit. When he returns with the kit in hand, Yoongi is alert again and in a state of panic.

“Hyung, I messed up.” Yoongi rambles senselessly with tears streaming down his cheeks, “I—I messed up bad. I shouldn’t of trusted him. He’s a fuckin’ liar. He lied to me. He never loved me.”

“Yoon, slow down.” He speaks, voice soft and temperate. “Just breathe.”

Yoongi nods affirmatively, inhaling and exhaling labored breaths to try and ease his anxiety. As Yoongi focuses on his breathing, Seokjin sits beside him, caring for his wound. His bite is still bleeding excessively, but it doesn’t appear to be giving Yoongi pain, perhaps not yet, the breakup and the betrayal hurting Yoongi most.

Seokjin gently dabs at his neck and collarbone with a warm wash rag, cleaning his soft ivory skin of blood, watching as the younger’s eyes flutter shut again and he relaxes underneath him, under his tender care.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Seokjin requests while bandaging Yoongi up.

Yoongi bites his lower lip, hesitating.

“Do you remember?”

“He invited me—” Yoongi’s breath shakes as he recalls the incident, giving Seokjin broken details. “—To his house. He wanted to introduce me to his friends. We were drinking. A lot. And then he started kissing me.”

Seokjin’s lip curls in disgust, just the image of Yijeong kissing Yoongi is enough to rattle him.

“I told him I felt weird.” Yoongi continues in a much smaller, softer voice, dripping with shame, “Kissing in front of people I don’t know. But Yijeong kept going.”

His expression steels as his head fills with intrusive thoughts of killing Yijeong. It’s the protector inside of him. It seeks revenge.

“He started touching me and kissing my neck. All his friends were watching. Then I felt, like, a sharp pinch. I freaked out, I pushed him off of me, and I—I ran.”

Seokjin grabs his forehead, sighing with frustration.

He knew things would blow up and their relationship would end poorly, it was only a matter of time, but he never could have predicted this. Had he known, he would have never let Yoongi out of his sight, he would have protected him at all costs. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. He neglected Yoongi. He failed Yoongi. He’s a bad friend.

“S’it bad?” Yoongi sniffles.

Seokjin frowns with pity. “He got you pretty good, Yoon.”

“I think—he wanted to turn me into—” The younger pauses mid-sentence, his pupils dilating in horror and realization. “Oh, god. He bit my neck. I’m gonna turn.”

“No, no, no.” Seokjin cuts in, eager to prevent a panic attack. “You don’t know that. We don’t know that.”

The grim reality is, Seokjin knows he will lose his friend to the virus, but he doesn’t want to come to terms with it or install unnecessary fear in Yoongi.

“But I’m bit.” Yoongi hyperventilates. “W-What if I—?”

Seokjin squeezes Yoongi firmly on the shoulder. “Let’s not think like that.”

Despite Seokjin’s best efforts, Yoongi bursts into tears. Yoongi cries so vigorously, his face flushes hot pink. He can’t keep his eyes open. He can’t catch his breath. Seokjin feels his heart shatter into millions of pieces, seeing his best friend break. A lump swells in the back of his throat and his chin starts to tremble. Seokjin aches to cry, but he has to hold strong for Yoongi.

“I don’t wanna be one of them.” He whimpers in fear. “I don’t wanna be a m-monster.”

Seokjin is powerless. Seokjin can do nothing but wrap Yoongi in his arms, cradling his head close to his chest as he cries and cries. It’s devastating. Seokjin would take the venomous vampire bite himself if he could, he would take Yoongi’s pain in a heartbeat, but he can’t.

All Seokjin can do is whisper false promises in his ear.

“Shh.” He speaks softly, hushing Yoongi until his sobs fade to light sniffles, “Everything will be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“I thought he loved me.”

Seokjin clenches his jaw tightly.

“I don’t understand.” Yoongi mumbles, voice muffled against the broadness of Seokjin’s chest. “Why me?”

“I don’t know, Yoon.” He answers honestly. “I don’t.”

Why does it have to be Yoongi? His best friend, the one Seokjin loves most, cursed romantically, and now infected with an abhorrent virus.

Yoongi lifts his head, looking up at Seokjin with these sweet naive glassy black eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Seokjin hums with certainty, carding his fingers through his black wavy hair. “You did nothing wrong, I promise.”

Yoongi’s only flaw is being too trusting, having a gullible good-natured heart, a heart that loves and aches to be loved, he’s an easy victim, easy to manipulate.

“I’m sorry.” Yoongi apologizes, rubbing his tears away with his small shaky wrists. “I’m such a fuckin’ mess.”

“Tell me what I can do to make you feel better.” Seokjin prompts. “Do you wanna play some games? Watch a movie? Do something to take your mind off of it?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Seokjin adds with second thought. “I have ice cream. Cookies and cream. Your favorite~”

“I think I just wanna lay down. If that’s okay.” Yoongi murmurs faintly, his eyes flickering, fighting their close. He’s used up all his energy crying. “M’not feelin so hot.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Seokjin nods his head, eagerly offering his bed to accommodate him. “You can take the bed.”

He helps Yoongi up and to his bed, delicately easing him down onto the mattress. Yoongi quickly rolls on his side, still in his black fitted tee and ripped skinny jeans. Seokjin searches his dresser cabinet for a spare change of clothes for Yoongi, but when he turns back around, he sees the younger has crashed and is out like a light.

Seokjin crawls into bed with Yoongi, cuddling him when he doesn’t know what else to do. While they are best friends, cuddling is not a common practice for them, Seokjin and Yoongi are both very particular about their space, but Seokjin just has this primal instinct, a need to hold Yoongi. Perhaps if Seokjin holds dearest friend, nestling him in the safety of his arms, he can extend his life and delay the gruesome sickness within him.

Fear eats at his frazzled mind, making it impossible to rest for the next few hours. He lays in bed for the longest time, trying to imagine a world without Yoongi. He can’t see one. Yoongi is such a shining light, life would be dull and meaningless without him. Should Yoongi be ripped away from him, Seokjin would never love again.

Sleep eventually looms over his exhausted body. He gets a few solid hours of shut eye, waking up in the wee early hours, when the city of Seoul is fast asleep and darkness still swallows his small studio apartment.

Seokjin wakes up to deafening silence. He can’t hear Yoongi’s light snores or feel his body heat. He turns in bed to find he is oddly alone again. Yoongi’s absence makes his head spin. Was last night just a bad dream?

He forces himself out of bed, shoves his freezing cold feet into a pair of slippers, and scours his apartment for answers. Everything appears normal until he finds a black leather jacket draped over the couch. Yoongi’s jacket. Last night wasn’t a dream. Yoongi was here. But why would he up and leave without his jacket?

He checks the bathroom. Yoongi is not there either.

He scratches at his head. It doesn’t make any sense.

Mind foggy, he paces back and forth, unsure what to do, until he catches a tiny orange flicker in the corner of his eye, coming from the direction of his balcony.

Seokjin slides the door open, finding his distraught friend sitting crisscrossed on the cold hard concrete, wide awake at god knows what hour it is, smoking a cigarette while he reads something on his phone.

“Aren’t you cold?” Seokjin asks, raising a brow.

In nothing but a thin black tee shirt, Yoongi lifts his eyes and simply stares at Seokjin. He appears slightly dazed and seems not to recognize him for a moment.

“Huh? Uh, sorry.” He stammers awkwardly, “I’m just— texting someone.”

Seokjin’s expression hardens as he glimpses at the younger’s phone screen. His heart rate spikes, like a ticking time bomb in his chest, close to detonating.

“You’re texting Yijeong?” He draws deeply, his voice stone cold and scrutinizing.

Yoongi stills for a couple seconds.

“I—Maybe. I—” Yoongi’s voice cracks. “He apologized. He said it was an accident. He didn’t mean to scare me. He—He loves me. He just got carried away, and—”

“Bullshit.” Seokjin interrupts, gritting his teeth. “Don’t fall for it.”

Yoongi tenses up and bites his thumb.

Seokjin can’t wrap his head around it. Just last night Yoongi swore he would never talk to Yijeong again. How could he switch up so fast? Could it be he is truly brainwashed by Yijeong or perhaps it stems deeper than that, perhaps the first signs of his spreading sickness, paranoia and delusion infesting his mind.

Seokjin calls it as it is, “He’s buttering you up, telling you what you want to hear, so you go back to him.”

“I—I don’t know.” Yoongi argues, so miserably in denial. “He loves me, hyung. He didn’t mean to—”

“For fucks sake—” Seokjin curses brazenly. “He doesn’t love you.”

Yoongi meekly lowers his head, startled by the sudden harshness of his words.

“He took advantage of you.”

Yoongi pulls his knees to his chest, hugging them close and quivering as he takes hit after hit, not from his cigarette but from Seokjin’s tough love reality check.

“He’ll do it again.”

Yoongi doesn’t speak. He only sniffles dejectedly as a single tear sheds from his hopeless red-rimmed eyes.

Seokjin sighs with remorse, recognizing he crossed the line. “I’m sorry, I just—I don’t wanna see you get hurt. I hate seeing you hurt, Yoon.”

Yoongi takes a long drag from his cigarette, inhaling enough nicotine to temporarily numb his feelings. Smoking is how Yoongi copes with most of his issues.

“You should mute him for now.” Seokjin adamantly insists. “Just come back to bed and we’ll sleep on it, okay? You’ve been through enough shit tonight.”

The younger slowly nods in understanding, clicks off his phone, and takes one last hit of nicotine before he smothers what’s left of his cigarette out on the ground.

He looks up at Seokjin with dark glassy eyes and rose dusted cheeks, fidgeting in the cold and in his skin tight jeans. He asks shyly, “Can I borrow some pjs?”

“Sure you can.” Seokjin smiles with content, holding the door open for Yoongi.

They go inside, Seokjin finds a spare pair of pajamas, a pastel pink colored set Yoongi would normally protest wearing, but it’s all he has clean, and Yoongi is so drained, he changes into them without a complaint.

They return to the heavenly warmth of his bed. Yoongi quickly tosses on his side as does Seokjin, who heedlessly stretches his arms and legs around the younger, snuggling him close. Seokjin holds Yoongi to sleep. Neither of them complain or care to speak on it.

Sunday morning comes. Seokjin wakes up in the same position, only this time, he is not holding a live body, he is holding air. Yoongi has up and vanished again. There’s a visible indent on his side of the bed, but it’s unsettlingly cold. It’s almost as if he was never there.

Strangely, his belongings haven’t moved. Seokjin sees his leather jacket, his phone, wallet, and a near full pack of cigarettes. Yoongi wouldn’t leave those behind.

Seokjin remains calm as he searches his apartment for his friend first thing in the morning. It’s not long until he finds poor Yoongi hunched down on the bathroom tile, hugging a toilet and heaving for breath in between projectile vomiting bursts. Seokjin hopes it’s a rough hangover or a stomach bug. All he can do is hope.

“You alright in here?” He asks, flicking the bathroom light switch.

“Too bright.” Yoongi groans in misery, shielding his light sensitive eyes with his arms. “Turn it off. Turn it off.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.” Seokjin apologizes, abruptly flicking off the blistering light that looms over Yoongi.

Yoongi gags and not one second later, he’s crunched back down, puking his brains out. Seokjin averts his gaze out of respect for Yoongi. It’s not polite to stare.

“Can I get you anything? Want some water?” He offers, cringing at the not so pleasant wet retching sound. It sounds so painful. “You should drink some water.”

Yoongi loudly spits clear fizzy bile again and again.

“Nooo.” The younger complains, voice shot and groggy, hands squeezing the toilet seat for life. “Just go away.”

Seokjin nods in acceptance, stepping out to give Yoongi his space and privacy as he removes the toxins from his body. Yoongi kicks the bathroom door shut behind him. He’s in the bathroom for a hot minute. Seokjin doesn’t disturb him until a hot minute stretches into a long concerning hour and he stops hearing movement.

He taps on the door. “Yoongi-ah?”

Nothing.

He tries again, firmly pressing his ear to the door. “Yoongi-ah.”

No response.

Seokjin shoves the door open, his wide worried eyes immediately locking onto Yoongi, who lays on the bathroom floor, flat on his back, pitifully passed out.

Yoongi looks rough, he’s sickly pale in the face, he’s drenched in cold sweat, and he’s physically trembling. He seems to be exhibiting flu-like symptoms now. The flu is plausible. It’s that time of the year again. Seokjin wants to believe it’s a common flu. He really wants to.

He softly shakes Yoongi on the shoulder, waking him. “Yoongi-ah. Hey, there. Did you fall asleep on the floor?”

Yoongi unintelligibly groans in response, but he does not stir. He’s as solid as a rock, carelessly laying in a puddle of cold sweat. Yoongi does not want to move, but Seokjin can’t in his heart abandon Yoongi here.

Seokjin helps his half-conscious friend up off the floor and to his bedroom, earning low mumbled protests. Yoongi is far too weak to physically fight back.

Yoongi hits the bed again but he doesn’t sleep soundly. His condition rapidly declines over the next few hours. Yoongi is tossing and turning and frequently running to the bathroom to throw up, his body rejecting even the smallest sips of water he tries to rehydrate with.

When he’s not regurgitating, he’s whimpering in agony, releasing these small soft sounds Seokjin has never heard before, sounds of suffering. He complains of a headache, a toothache, heartburn, congestion, every pain under the sun and all at once, morphing into one.

Light seems to bother Yoongi. Seokjin can’t open the curtains or flick on a single lamp without him moaning.

Seokjin gives Yoongi painkillers. They don’t work. They don’t even stand a chance. Yoongi throws those pills right back up. Pepto-bismal proves ineffective too when Yoongi pukes a neon pink. He just can’t get any relief.

“Hyung.” Yoongi calls weakly from the bed. “Give me— Give me painkillers.”

“You just had some.”

“Need more. Please. I—I can’t take it.”

Seokjin frowns with sympathy, running his hand over the younger’s burning hot forehead. “You should sleep.”

“I can’t.” Yoongi scowls. “I can’t sleep. Hurts too bad.”

“What hurts, Yoon?”

“My—My stomach.” Yoongi stammers, “My head, my heart—”

Seokjin exhales a heavy sigh. The list just goes on.

“My teeth.” Yoongi curses sharply, wincing in pain, “Teeth are the worst. Teeth are fuckin’ killing me.”

“Your teeth?” Seokjin questions, surprised. “Do you have a cavity?”

“S’infected.” Yoongi speaks with an aching mouth full of excess saliva. “Feels like it’s spreadin’ to my brain.”

“Which ones hurt?”

Yoongi groans in excruciating pain. “All of them hurt.”

“I’ll give you one more, alright? For your toothache.”

Seokjin allows Yoongi one more painkiller, just one pill, it’s probably all he can hold down. He drops the pill in Yoongi’s palm. Yoongi’s lips stretch into a lazy woozy smile of appreciation. He doesn’t speak but he does mouth out a ‘thank you’. Drool helplessly slips past his lips. Looking at Yoongi is not for the faint of heart. He looks so sweet and innocent yet he’s so tragically sick.

Seokjin ruffles Yoongi’s black matted bed hair. “Try and sleep, okay?”

Yoongi sleeps throughout the day and throughout the evening. Seokjin cooks and eats two meals without him which feels so wrong. Seokjin can’t stomach more than a few bites.

Yoongi is significantly worse every time he checks on him. His fever just won’t break.

Seokjin keeps a damp wash rag on Yoongi’s forehead, frequently changing it. While his head remains blazing hot with fever, his body simultaneously runs shivering cold. Seokjin has to slide a heating pad under Yoongi.

Night falls again and he eventually returns to his bed to rest. He slowly eases onto the mattress and under the duvet comforter, trying not to disturb Yoongi’s slumber. One wrong move, however, and Yoongi is wide awake. He’s not so sweet anymore. He is so beyond agitated, even the smallest nuisances crawl under his skin.

“Stop that.” Yoongi croaks, weakly swatting at Seokjin, who tries to spoon him like before. “Stop doin’ that.”

Seokjin freezes. “Stop what?”

“Stop breathing.” Yoongi snaps restlessly. “S’too loud.”

“Okay, uh—” Seokjin chuckles uncomfortably. “I’ll stop breathing.”

As his normal steady breathing is somehow bothering the younger, Seokjin chooses to separate from him, shuffling out of bed to go sleep on the couch instead. Though as soon as Yoongi senses he is leaving, he crumbles.

“W-Wha—” Yoongi whimpers in disarray, his lips pulling into a tight pout. “No. Don’t. Where are you going?”

“You said I’m being too loud.” Seokjin explains. “I’m giving you some space.”

“But—I don’t want some—” Yoongi murmurs deliriously, barely stringing together coherent words. “No. Cold. Don’t go.”

At Yoongi’s request, he doesn’t hesitate to fall back down into bed, but he is significantly more cautious, self aware of his movements, of his breathing pattern, though Yoongi is hyper aware, like he has a heightened sense of hearing, the slightest sounds overstimulate him.

Seokjin shifts on his side, tangling his arms and legs around Yoongi, solely for the purpose of providing warmth, to be his human heating pad, nothing more.

“Is this okay?” He asks gingerly.

“Yes.” Yoongi answers, despite wiggling in resistance, like he doesn’t want to be held. “No. Stop. Stop that.”

Seokjin stills in place, puzzled and unsure how to proceed when he receives two contradictory orders.

“Your heart.” Yoongi whines miserably. “It’s so loud.”

Seokjin blinks in bewilderment. He is relatively calm. His heart isn’t pounding, at least not now, not yet it isn’t. How can Yoongi possibly hear his heartbeat?

With a sharp cry, the younger covers his ringing ears, every sound is amplified, convulsing inside his skull, pushing him past the point of no return, triggering a volatile outburst.

“My ears! Shut up! Stop it! Stop!” He cries in hysteria, his voice high and shriveled. “Please, I can’t take it!”

He can only watch in fear, his heart now palpitating as he watches his best friend self-destruct. He truly doesn’t know how to help. Yoongi may be beyond his help.

He’s hearing sounds that simply do not exist, imaginary sounds it seems like, or sounds no human can detect.

“Yoon—”

“I’ve had enough!” He screams, fists pulling at his hair and his knuckles turning white. “Please! Make it stop!”

Yoongi cries so furiously, he chokes for breath.

Seokjin can’t bring himself to look at Yoongi, he’s not strong enough to. All Seokjin can think to do is protect his sensitive ears, so he grabs his pink noise-canceling gaming headset, he places it on Yoongi’s head, he snuggles up behind him, and he just holds him tight.

It’s all he can do, holding his sick sobbing friend in his arms, hoping to alleviate enough of his pain so he can rest. Yoongi is rapidly deteriorating before his eyes. Seokjin just has to accept that his best friend will turn. It could be his last night. He may not have a tomorrow.

If Seokjin can just bring him peace in the time he has left, that will be enough, that will make up for his shortcomings as a friend, that will be his redemption.

“Shh. Shhh.” Seokjin whispers soothingly. “It’s okay.”

Yoongi’s cries eventually do hush, too drained and too dehydrated to go on. The gaming headset seems to stop him from spiraling or perhaps it's being held and coddled like a crying infant. Yoongi knocks himself out crying and Seokjin falls asleep not too long after him.

Seokjin sleeps hoping, praying, Yoongi will still be with him tomorrow.

Seokjin oversleeps on a gloomy morning, his blackout curtains trick his brain and body into thinking it's still nighttime. His apartment is so offensively cold, it’s just one of those days he doesn’t want to get out of bed, luckily enough, he doesn’t have to, because he wakes up with Yoongi right by his side, sleeping like an angel.

Seokjin wastes the early half of the day lounging in bed, napping periodically and playing games on his phone. Seokjin makes a single serving of ramyun for lunch, assuming Yoongi won’t have an appetite again.

Yoongi wakes up sometime in the afternoon, he doesn’t look to be in pain, though it is difficult to tell. Yoongi is not expressing much. His eyes are open but appear dull and downcast, void of any light. It doesn’t seem like Yoongi is fully present. He’s undeniably sick, his skin ghastly white and his cheekbones hollowed. He’s lost an alarming amount of weight in only two days, he’s so weak and frail, he has no energy left to give.

All Yoongi can do is lay in bed despondently. He is the epitome of bed-rotting.

His morning breath is foul, rotten and metallic almost, he smells of death, there’s no other way to describe it.

What friend would Seokjin be if he left Yoongi with bad breath?

He does the bare minimum, grabs an extra toothbrush, loads it up with fresh minty toothpaste, and brings it back to Yoongi, who stares at it unenthusiastically. He makes no attempt to reach out for the toothbrush.

“Yoon, open up.” He prompts, poking him on the mouth with the toothbrush. “You gotta brush those teeth.”

With a low groan, Yoongi grabs the toothbrush, his shaky hand weakly gripping it as he brushes his teeth in bed. Seokjin hands him a cup to spit into and then some water to wash it down with, it’s not glamorous by any means, but it does get the job done. Minty clean teeth is one step in the right direction, Seokjin thinks.

Seokjin later convinces Yoongi to get out of bed and go wash up. He believes a bath will significantly boost his spirits but it is an honest struggle from start to finish. His legs are too weak and wobbly to support himself. Not only does he have to walk Yoongi to the bathroom, but he has to undress him and lift him into the tub.

It’s taxing, physically, mentally, emotionally. It takes a toll on him. He’s taken care of Yoongi over the years but never to this extent. This is devastating, worse than any depressive episode he has ever seen.

Yoongi has lost his will to fight and his will to live.

He stares vacantly as Seokjin washes his hair, scrubs his scrawny body clean, stands him up, and dries him off. He’s put in more of his clothes, a pink oversized tee and some slouchy sweatpants that are easy to pull on.

After he’s dressed, he’s helped back to bed and onto his heating pad. Seokjin practically carries him from room to room, but just being carried knocks the wind out of him. His chest starts heaving, and he gasps for air.

“There you are.” Seokjin hums with encouragement, fluffing the pillow around his head. “All nice and clean, huh?”

Face contorted in pain, the younger grits his teeth and grips at his chest, panting.

Seokjin frowns with concern. “Breathe, Yoon.”

“H-Hurts.”

“I know.” Seokjin nods. “That was a lot of movement, but you did such a good job. You got out of bed, yeah?”

Yoongi’s lips stretch into a soft fatigued smile.

“I’m dying, hyung.” He says lightheartedly as if it’s nothing more than a figure of speech, but he knows the truth and Seokjin knows the truth. Yoongi is dying.

It’s fascinating in a way. Yoongi is running on fumes, his body is failing him, he’s lost so much, but he still has his sense of humor. How Yoongi is able to make jokes when he knows he’s on his deathbed is beyond him. Even though he is in a weakened state, he hasn’t lost his touch, heart remains strong and selfless, filled with an abundance of love, love too pure for this world.

“You’re not dying.” Seokjin speaks, shaking his head, despite the tears swelling in his eyes and the big lump forming in his throat. “Not on my watch you’re not.”

“Can—” Yoongi sniffles. “Can you text m-my mom?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course, Yoon.” Seokjin hurries to retrieve his phone. “What do you want me to tell her?”

“Tell her that I love her.” He requests in a tiny voice. “That I’m safe. And m’sorry. Sorry I missed Chuseok.”

Seokjin smiles as he texts his exact words, possibly his last words to his mother. Seokjin doesn’t realize how gutted he is until his tear drops hit the phone screen.

“Okay, is there anyone else?” He asks without looking Yoongi in the eyes.

“Text Yijeong.”

Seokjin’s stomach twists into knots.

“Tell him he’s dead to me.” Yoongi adds with a wheezed chuckle.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Seokjin plays along, lovingly ruffling the younger’s damp black hair. “I think he knows.”

“Good.” Yoongi hums, softly fluttering his eyelashes, struggling to stay awake. “Can we watch cat videos?”

Seokjin smiles with fondness. “Sure we can.”

For the rest of the afternoon and into the late evening, they watch cat compilations. Yoongi sleeps through most of the videos, his eyes too heavy to keep open.

His breathing becomes lighter, weaker, installing more and more despair in Seokjin, he worries every breath might be his last. He doesn’t know when it will happen, likely sometime tonight, and his heart won’t be able to handle the grief. When Yoongi goes, he will follow after him, he will have no life worth living. Seokjin is afraid of dying but he’s even more afraid of ending up alone.

God, he’s scared shitless.

The grotesque odor returns. Yoongi’s breath reeks of blood. Seokjin’s stomach stirs with acid.

Something is not right.

Yoongi tugs on his shirt sleeve so lightly, Seokjin nearly misses it. “Jin-hyung.”

“Yeah?” Seokjin answers attentively. “What’s wrong?”

“Scared.” Yoongi murmurs.

Seokjin frowns with pity. “I know.”

“I don’t—” Yoongi confesses through clenched teeth, trembling. “I don’t think I’ll make it ‘nother night.”

“Yoongi-ah.” Seokjin calls clearly. “Look at me.”

Yoongi’s trembling halts for just a moment. His eyes flit up, half-lidded and a devastatingly beautiful sparkling black. It breaks Seokjin’s heart looking directly into his eyes, but he owes it to him.

“Whatever happens, whether you turn or not, I’ll be right here with you, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Yoongi smiles or tries his best to smile as it takes more muscle strength than he has. His smile is endearingly lopsided, but genuine all the same. Seokjin’s words bring Yoongi comfort in the darkest of times.

Yoongi sighs softly. “Hyung?”

"Hm?”

“Will you hold my hand?”

Yoongi’s last request.

Seokjin for once doesn’t overthink it. He slides his hand down Yoongi’s slender arm and interlocks their fingers.

“I love you.” Yoongi whispers faintly.

Seokjin squeezes Yoongi’s hand tighter, refusing to let go. They fall asleep on their backs, laying side by side, holding hands til the very end, til Yoongi’s eyes close once and for all and he succumbs to his illness.

Seokjin dreams of nothing.

He’s a small speckle floating in darkness, his thoughts blank and purposeless.

He’s desensitized. He can’t move. He can’t think. He can’t feel.

His head is washed out with white noise. It’s eerie at first, but it grows on him. He wants to be one with the white noise. He yearns to wash away and cease to exist.

Seokjin’s hand tingles. Just his right hand. It’s a sharp prickling sensation similar to pins and needles. It starts from the tips of his fingers and spirals up his forearm.

The tingles intensify and burn unbearably. It feels his palm has caught on fire and is melting to the bone. He tries to move his hand for some relief, but it’s locked in a clamping position. He can only flex his fingers a little.

His eyes slowly flick open. He blinks up at the ceiling, his brain alert and awake, waiting for the rest of his body to follow. His hand is cramping badly. He tries to stretch it but it doesn’t budge. Yoongi has his hand in a deadlock. Seokjin has to pry his hand from Yoongi.

It’s when he frees his hand, he finds Yoongi is frozen stiff and motionless, his skin is an almost iridescent greyish white, his eyes are sealed shut, his lips are chapped and parted slightly, though Yoongi doesn’t appear to be breathing through the mouth or the nose.

“Yoon?” He calls, voice dripping with bone-chilling fear.

Dead silence.

“Yoongi?” Seokjin shoots up, frantically searching his friend for signs of life. He presses on all of Yoongi’s pulse points, but he finds nothing, not even a faint one.

His best friend is pulseless.

All he can do is shake his head in denial. “No. No. No.”

His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. Acid burns in the back of his throat. He covers his mouth with his hand, fighting the body’s natural instinct to throw up.

Tears soon swell in his eyes, smudging his vision.

“Hey, wake up.” Seokjin orders, deliriously slapping at the younger’s unmoving chest. “Yoongi-ah, wake up.”

Seokjin holds Yoongi’s starkly hollowed cheeks, force shaking his head back and forth in devastation.

“Yoongi-ah, please.” He begs, voice breaking as he is overtaken with nausea. He kneels over the younger’s frail lifeless body, insistently checking for a pulse that does not exist. “Don’t die on me. Don’t fucking die on me.”

Trembling and gasping for breath, Seokjin reaches for his phone to call for help. He dials three numbers, pacing in circles as he waits for the call to go through.

“You have reached emergency services. For police assistance, dial 1. For fire or rescue services, dial 2. For all vampire-related emergencies, please dial 3.”

Seokjin dials 3.

Obnoxious holding music plays on an endless loop, lively saxophones that crawl under his skin like nothing else. He waits and waits, losing hope with every second wasted. Until there’s a beep, followed by light static.

Seokjin prays he has an operator.

A recording. “We’re experiencing an unusually high volume of calls. Calls will be answered in the order received. Your number in cue is 91. Your estimated wait time is 45 min—”

“God dammit!” Seokjin loses composure, hangs up the phone, and launches it on the other side of the room, shattering it.

He, too, shatters, burying his tear-soaked face into the torso of his friend who is long gone. Seokjin grieves for Yoongi with a long guttural cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I—I couldn’t protect you.” He hiccups. “I couldn’t—”

Bringing himself more torment, he looks back up at his friend, delicate and decomposing, and yet, so peaceful, almost serene in a way. It appears he passed overnight in his sleep.

“My Yoongi. My sweet Yoongi—” He sobs hysterically, mourning the one he loves most. “I love you. I love you so much. Don’t leave. Please. Don’t leave me. You’re all I have. Please, Yoongi. I’ll give anything.”

Bright red in the face and panting with despair, Seokjin cries until his throat burns and closes. He hunches down, silently crying against Yoongi’s lifeless form.

Seokjin feels a sharp prickling at his spine. It’s as if his back is being scratched. It’s painful, but it is not excruciating, not like losing a loved one, his other half.

“H-Hyung.”

A breathy whisper. He swears on his life he hears it.

He lifts his head, incredulous, his veiny red-rimmed eyes blown wide and wobbling. Heart drumming in his ears, he holds his breath and watches Yoongi closely, waiting for a sign of life, a sign of hope, for anything.

Another scratch. Like fresh sharpened claws digging into the flesh of his back. Seokjin winces in discomfort.

“Hyung.”

Yoongi’s lips move just a tiny bit and his lashes flutter along his sunken eyelids.

Hope.

He shudders in disbelief.

“Hyungry.” The younger mutters lethargically, rubbing tear-crusted eyes with one hand, and lazily scratching Seokjin’s back with the other, his nails sharp as knives.

Seokjin laughs and cries, stupefied. “You’re hungry?”

Yoongi nods cutely, a wanting pout pulling at his lips.

“I love you.” Seokjin exclaims shakily. “God, I love you so much.”

Overwhelmed with emotion, Seokjin acts on pure need, dives down, and pecks Yoongi on the forehead, on the cheek, and on his pouty lips. Yoongi doesn’t flinch as he is so affectionately touched and kissed, he doesn’t make a sour face, he doesn’t complain, he accepts the loving embrace and even allows Seokjin to cradle his head and smush his face into his shoulder as he sobs in relief.

“I was so scared.” He confesses with vulnerability, lips splitting into a devastating smile, “I thought I lost you.”

The younger’s stomach grumbles loud and strong in what is supposed to be a meaningful silence, he sounds like a monster, an unbelievably adorable monster.

“...Sorry.” He mumbles in embarrassment.

“You’re alright.” Seokjin chuckles, caressing Yoongi’s thinned cheek with his thumb. “Let’s get you something to eat. What do you want, hm? I’ll get you anything.”

Yoongi does not answer. He only blinks up at Seokjin with enormous black dilated pupils, gulps thickly, and bites his lower lip, his pointy fresh-grown fangs poking through chapped skin.

“Oh. Blood. Right.” Seokjin’s cheeks tingle red, and he laughs nervously. He feels foolish for even asking something so obvious. “You want my blood, don’t you?”

Yoongi goes the longest time without blinking, his eyes bore into Seokjin, drinking him in. He looks at Seokjin like a starving predator would look at live prey right before a fresh kill. A shiver runs down Seokjin’s spine. While his stare is intimidating, it is strangely attractive.

Seokjin exhales a shaky breath, unfolding his arm to offer himself. It will be the younger’s first time feeding, and he deserves the best quality, not that artificial vampire supermarket blood packed with preservatives.

He can only hope Yoongi will like his taste. He’s blood type O-, the universal blood type. He and Yoongi have the same blood type or had the same type before Yoongi tragically turned.

Maybe Yoongi will despise his blood or find him bland.

There’s only one way to find out.

“Do it. It’s okay.” Seokjin insists, turning his head away as he anticipates sharp stabbing pain. “Do it quickly.”

Yoongi drools at the sight of his arm, tentatively holds it with two hands, and scans his tanned flesh for veins. His big dilated eyes dart up one last time for approval.

Seokjin nods. “Take what you need, Yoon.”

Yoongi lunges down faster than the speed of lightning. He squeezes his eyes shut and hisses loudly as Yoongi’s fangs first make contact with his wrist. The feeling is similar to getting prodded with a needle. He holds his breath. It hurts a lot initially, but the pain slowly fizzles away after Yoongi’s fangs have sunken in and latched on.

His head does a dizzy spin as he gets the blood sucked right out of his wrist, though it really spins when Yoongi releases explicit sounds, sounds that should be reserved for intimate moments, and probably shouldn’t leave the bedroom. One drop of delicious hot crimson and Yoongi loses every ounce of self control, moaning and mewling as he diligently sucks from him. He lets out all these little high-pitched needy moans. God, he sounds so fucking pretty. It perturbs Seokjin, it does.

“Aah, aaah, mhmm.”

He doesn’t have the slightest clue why his heart throbs so hard, why his thoughts spin faster and faster, why he burns feverishly hot, why his blood rushes down to his groin while it’s being drained from his very wrist.

When he looks at Yoongi, he burns that much hotter.

Sweet Yoongi makes a mess out of his first feeding, he really does, with deep red plasma smeared all over his lips, dripping down his chin. Yoongi’s eyes are intense, almost animalistic. The more he consumes, the more his pupils expand until his eyes cloud with pleasure.

“Aaah. Aah. More. Ah. Mhmm.”

He loudly sucks and slurps, driving Seokjin mad. What he feels is not pain, not blood loss, but arousal that shakes through his system. Arousal for his best friend.

Is this normal? He doesn’t know. He’s never donated blood or plasma before. Is giving blood supposed to feel this insanely good? Or could it be the recipient? The hungry baby vampire clamped around his wrist, sucking him dry, thriving off of his taste, only his.

Yoongi drinks bursts and bursts of blood until his belly is stuffed and swollen. He slackens his jaw just a little, flexing his tongue out, licking the blood that leaks from his puncture marks. Yoongi doesn’t waste a drop and licks Seokjin clean. He sounds like he’s purring as he does, fucking purring.

Seokjin clenches his jaw, his pants growing tighter with each passing second. He’s shamefully turned on now. Yoongi can’t know. Yoongi can never know of this.

Yoongi keeps the pad of his tongue pressed against his puncture mark as the bleeding slows. The possessive glint to his eyes never fades. Yoongi licks all of him, selfishly overindulging until there is no more blood to suck and he is stuffed so full, all he can do is lay down.

The youngest smiles, languidly pressing his head into Seokjin’s chest.

“Your heart is loud.” He murmurs.

“Do you want your headphones?”

“No!” Yoongi shouts abruptly, his face scrunching into a pout. He seems offended by the suggestion. “I like it.”

Seokjin’s heart flutters as the younger clings on tight.

The naive vampire soon crashes from his first blood coma, comfortably snuggled up at his generous donor’s side, listening to his heartbeat. He looks so precious when he sleeps. Seokjin feels horrible because the thoughts flooding in his head are less than precious.

His brain has turned to filth.

Several days pass by and things are back to normal, for the most part. It’s refreshing, given the emotional turmoil they’ve been through. Yoongi extends his stay at Seokjin’s place. They spend their time watching cheesy TV shows and playing video games. Seokjin soon gets back to his regularly scheduled livestreams.

Yoongi will occasionally poke his head in, disrupting the stream whenever he’s hungry or low on attention which is infuriatingly cute, but it does cause some hiccups.

It’s every time he begs for blood with his pretty pouty lips, Seokjin doesn’t have it in his heart to tell him no. Not only does he lose pints of essential blood over a short time span but damn near loses his sanity too.

Seokjin is embarrassingly turned on every time Yoongi drinks from him. He just can’t help himself. He is weak for Yoongi, forever has been and forever will be, but the greedy little vampire he has become taints his every thought.

God, is he pent up too. Seokjin has had no privacy to take care of his problem down there, only quick rubs in the bathroom which always leave him longing for more. With little reprieve, sexual frustration builds, agitating him more and more with every feed. Being a donor is difficult already, he doesn’t need the added pressure.

He sits in front of his flat screen TV with a controller in his hands, playing games to distract himself from the younger’s cute and clingy antics. Seokjin’s focus breaks when Yoongi crawls in close, attempting to lay on his lap like a cat and obstructing his view at a crucial time. He instantly dies in game due to Yoongi, respawning far back to an early checkpoint.

“Yoongi-ah—” He complains, “I can’t see the screen.”

Yoongi pulls at his upper arm, covered in previous bite marks, trying to pry it from the controller.

“Give.” He demands.

Seokjin scoffs. “I just gave you blood!”

“More.” The younger persists, his pink plush lips pulling into the infamous pout that squeezes Seokjin’s heart.

“I don’t have no more!” He laughs, swatting Yoongi away. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re draining me!”

The younger drops his gaze, brooding. “So hungry...”

“Go to the blood store then!” He argues, dismissive. He’s fed Yoongi twice today. He needs time to recover.

“Will you take me?” Yoongi asks, fluttering his lashes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Seokjin easily agrees, pausing his game and dropping his controller. “Let me get my keys.”

He holds up his end of the bargain and drives Yoongi all across Seoul to the nearest blood dispensary, otherwise called the blood store. The drive is nice and smooth, though when they arrive, Seokjin’s red flags go off.

He sees so many of them, an abundance of vampires, just loitering outside the dispensary entrance, ominously watching who comes and goes.

Bloodsuckers densely populate this part of town. Any human with common sense would avoid coming, yet here Seokjin is, sacrificing his comfort and safety without thinking twice.

He parks the car and turns to Yoongi, sweetly bundled up in the passenger’s seat, looking warm and toasty.

“You ready to go?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m staying in the car.”

Seokjin feels his stomach drop. “Come on, really?”

“I don’t feel like going in.” Yoongi mumbles in defense. “M’tired.”

“You don’t feel like—” Seokjin starts in disbelief, whisper-yelling, “Yoon, I can’t go in there by myself!”

Yoongi blinks slowly, calmly, unphased in the slightest. “Why?”

“Are you kidding?” Seokjin exhales nervous laughter, his blood pressure rising at just the thought. “Those vampires will eat me alive!”

“Not if I eat you first.” Yoongi remarks.

“You—” Seokjin pauses, at a loss for words, his mouth agape and his cheeks burning a bright flustered red. He’s lost the battle. “Aish! The things I do for you.”

“Love you.” Yoongi sings satirically.

Seokjin dramatically exits the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him. He double, triple locks the car, buries his hands into his coat pockets and hurries into the blood store with his head held low. He is careful not to make eye contact with the coven gathered outside.

When Seokjin steps inside the dispensary, he naturally pulls the attention of customers and workers. It is very clear he is a foreigner here. He does not belong. He can’t tell if they are staring with detestment or if they are staring with hunger, perhaps they see him as an appetizer or a snack. Seokjin’s paranoia skyrockets.

He doesn’t overstay his welcome here and books it for the product Yoongi needs. Blood pouches, perfectly organized by blood type in rows and rows of coolers.

He doesn’t know Yoongi’s preferences quite yet, so he takes a shopping cart and loads it with a variety of blood types from a variety of brands. He opts for the most expensive ones because quality goods should logically cost more. Yoongi should have the best of the best. Seokjin does not shy away from spending and takes enough pouches to last Yoongi the winter season.

The checkout process is just as uncomfortable if not more. A young vampire girl working the front register shoots Seokjin dirty looks as she slowly and silently scans his items. Sweating buckets, Seokjin sacks the groceries himself. Seokjin pays quickly and doesn’t bother staying any second longer to get his receipt.

He practically runs out of the dispensary with pints and pints of plasma and hurries to the car without looking back.

“Got the good stuff?” Yoongi asks excitedly.

“You owe me. Big time.” Seokjin declares, hopping into the driver’s seat and fastening his seatbelt. “I thought I was gonna die. They were hunting me. I’m serious—”

Seokjin stops mid-sentence, his eyes connecting to a suspicious character standing far too close to his car, simply observing them. Seokjin’s whole body stiffens, his upper lip curls, and his blood boils with resentment.

What a small shit world they live in.

Jang Yijeong stands before the hood of his car, thinned and malnourished, his skin sickly white, his bloodshot eyes lined with regret and longing, enhanced by his disgusting dark circles. Yijeong watches through the windshield, his dark apologetic eyes bore into Yoongi.

Seokjin seethes as Yijeong stares at Yoongi. It triggers a scarily possessive side of him he never knew he had.

Nostrils flaring, he breaks free from his seatbelt and reflexively reaches for the driver door handle, wanting nothing more than to jump out and beat the living shit out of Yijeong for all the harm he has caused, but sweet nonconfrontational Yoongi extends his arm, his palm pressed to Seokjin’s puffed chest, blocking him.

“Leave him.” Yoongi speaks, voice soft and placating.

Seokjin inhales sharply, shoves his keys in the ignition, and starts the car to leave. He shushes the demons in his head telling him to hit Yijeong with his car, following Yoongi’s words of wisdom and reversing out of the parking spot instead. He drives off without a word.

Seokjin goes radio silent as he drives pensively, still trying to shake off the tense sighting of Yijeong.

Yoongi loudly snickers, breaking the silence. “He looked like shit.”

“Yeah.” Seokjin huffs with satisfaction. “He did.”

Seokjin devours a large bowl of kimchi stew for dinner. He’s skipped some meals lately, eating conservatively out of respect for Yoongi, though now that Yoongi has a refrigerator full of plasma, Seokjin can eat all he wants without a guilty conscience.

He sits beside Yoongi on the couch, gluttonously licking his bowl of leftovers as Yoongi barely makes a dent on his store bought plasma pouch, drinking tiny sips. His scrunched face says it all, he doesn’t enjoy the taste.

He watches Yoongi experience his first blood aversion, the quality not up to par with the fresh blood he’s been spoiled with.

“Let me guess—” Seokjin starts with amusement. “You hate it.”

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s mid.”

“Want me to heat it up for you?” Seokjin offers, hoping to improve the taste for the picky little vampire.

Yoongi’s eyes light up adorably fast. “Please.”

Seokjin takes Yoongi’s plasma pouch, popping it into the microwave for just thirty seconds. He hands the warmed pouch back to Yoongi along with a straw for easy sipping. Yoongi seems to prefer his blood warmed, he drinks more, but he drinks in moderation with a bored, unimpressed expression plastered on his face.

“Well? Seokjin hums. “Think it will hold you over?”

“I guess.” Yoongi mutters with a tight-lipped pout, twirling the straw in his pouch. “...I miss your blood.”

Seokjin tilts his head. “Is it that good?”

Yoongi nods obsessively with a fire blazing in his dark almond eyes. “It’s everything.”

Seokjin exhales a wary sigh. “I suppose I can give you blood every once in a while.”

“Every day.” Yoongi challenges.

Seokjin rolls his head back, roaring with deep laughter. There is no way he can realistically feed Yoongi once a day and stay in good health.

“How about once a week?” Seokjin counteroffers.

“Twice a week.” The younger demands, not budging.

“Alright, alright.” Seokjin groans in defeat. Bargaining with a bloodthirsty vampire is no easy task. “We can try it.”

Yoongi smiles with content, his fangs cutely poking at his lower lip. The sight pulls at Seokjin’s heartstrings. Yoongi is just so pretty. How can Seokjin not spoil him?

“When do you want me to feed you?”

“Now.”

Yoongi shamelessly sits on Seokjin’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“So impatient.” He complains, ignoring how his blood rushes to his lower belly as the younger rubs into his lap, unable to contain the excitement.

“Feed me.”

“Okay, just be gent—”

Yoongi moves suddenly, leaving him no time to protest. Body acting on need, Yoongi pins Seokjin down on the sofa. His breath hitches sharply, his heart hammering in his chest as Yoongi rolls up his sweat shorts, his hands grazing the untouched flesh of his inner thigh.

Arousal ripples through his body. He burns hotter than an inferno.

Yoongi arches his back, sinking down to lap his tongue on his soft unpunctured skin. Seokjin tries to keep his composure, he really tries, but what is he supposed to do when Yoongi licks him with such care, when his hot breath fans over his crotch, when these pretty sounds escape his parted lips. Fuck, Seokjin doesn’t know if he is going to survive this, not when Yoongi’s tongue flicks higher and higher up his inner thigh, nearing his groin.

Could it be Yoongi is intentionally turning Seokjin on? Or is only wishful thinking.

Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for the oh so pleasurable pain as Yoongi’s fangs prick the meat of his thigh. Seokjin waits for the sharp pinch, and the rush of euphoria of having his blood sucked out of him, but it never comes. The younger senses something is off, draws back, and tilts his head to the side. He blinks inquisitively.

“What’s that?”

“Huh?”

“That.” Yoongi clarifies, his inscrutable eyes connecting to the tent inflating Seokjin’s cotton sweat shorts.

Seokjin’s ears flare bright red as humiliation burns in his very core. He can’t bring himself to answer. Yoongi’s eyes sweep upwards, digging into his skull.

“Does this turn you on?” The younger asks, intrigued.

Caught in the flesh, Seokjin can only block his bulge with his hands and laugh uncomfortably. Laughter is how he normally copes under pressure, but it doesn’t provide much relief, not under the heat of Yoongi’s eyes. As acid stirs deep in his throat, Seokjin gulps regretfully. “Uh. Can you pretend you didn’t see it?”

“Why?” Yoongi fires back sharply.

“Because, uh—”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No. No.” Seokjin scoffs in denial, so flustered he is talking out of his ass now. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Yoongi tilts his head more, observing Seokjin closely.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Seokjin holds his tongue, too ashamed to utter another word. Is it inherently wrong to be attracted to a best friend? Probably not, but to be this insufferably aroused—

Awkward silence follows.

Yoongi’s wide almond eyes flit down to his bulge, then back up again, fixing on his lips for the longest time.

“Do you wanna kiss about it?”

Seokjin’s breath catches in his throat. Heat rushes to his cheeks. It must be a joke, he thinks. That is until Yoongi reels in closer, eyes never leaving Seokjin’s lips. Eyes intensely concentrated, Yoongi appears to be in hunting mode, but blood may not be what he seeks.

“Do you?” Seokjin asks, heart pounding in anticipation.

“Yeah.”

Seokjin moves on impulse, snatching the younger by the waist and capturing his lips in a hot and fervent open-mouthed kiss. Seokjin’s mind melts instantly as mouths readily meet, his body pulsing with stimulation beyond anything he’s felt before. Kissing Yoongi feels so natural, so meant to be, their lips blend with ease.

He doesn’t break for air, he can’t afford to, not as doubt or hesitation may linger, not as he pulls these delicate whimpers from the younger, unraveling him more and more, leaving him breathless and aching.

Seokjin’s hands move with haste and vigor, feeling Yoongi up as he kisses him like there’s no tomorrow. His hands travel from his petite waist, to his small hips, to his perfect ass, fingers hiking up the fabric of his shorts to knead the baby soft flesh of his cheeks. He slips his tongue through the gap of juicy soft lips, tongue stroking inside the heavenly heat of his mouth.

So desperate to keep up with his frenzied pace, Yoongi rubs into his lap, deepening the kiss until tongues, and teeth, and fangs clash. In the heat of the moment, the younger nicks Seokjin’s lower lip with his sharp newly grown fang, accidentally slicing skin and drawing blood.

Lip stinging, he pulls away with a hiss and swipes his cherry red kiss-bitten lips with his thumb. Yoongi’s eyes gorge at the sight of Seokjin’s sliced lip and bloodied thumb, stealing his focus. In a dazed trance, Yoongi drools at the slightest drop of blood that forms.

“Look at you.” Seokjin tsks. “Making a mess of me.”

“Sorry.” Yoongi mutters. “Didn’t mean to.”

“Are you sorry?” Seokjin chuckles richly. “Kiss it better, will you? Don’t let my blood go to waste now.”

Yoongi lunges forwards, cupping his jaw, and latching his mouth on his. Melting into his mouth and mewling, he alternates between licking and sucking the crimson that leaks from his cut lip. They kiss sloppily, swapping saliva. Seokjin is not sickened by the bitter copper-like taste of his blood when Yoongi’s tongue feels so divine.

The tease of blood does not quench Yoongi’s thirst, it makes him that much thirstier, makes him that much needier, soon overwhelming him with intense craving and desire. Burning helplessly hot, Yoongi palms at his crotch, the light fabric of his shorts now bunched up, enhancing the hardness he doesn’t even bother to hide underneath.

Seokjin breaks for a moment, bumping foreheads with Yoongi and grinning against his lips. “Are you getting off?”

Yoongi nods with rose-dusted cheeks, black locks of hair falling in his face, curtaining his eyes. “Y-Yeah.”

“So greedy.” Seokjin hums with amusement, his voice warm and honeyed.

The younger heaves softly. “I want—“

“What do you want, hm?”

Yoongi slowly looks up, his eyes an enchanting black, glassy, half-lidded, and pleading in all their glory. He basks in the sight of Yoongi, his spoiled baby vampire, blushing pink, picturing all the things he could do to him, all the places and positions he could have him in.

“Want you.” Yoongi rasps out with a hand stuffed down his shorts, wrapped around his small cock, shamelessly rubbing himself in front of Seokjin. “Want all of you.”

“Do you want my blood or do you want my cock?”

“Yes.”

Eyes crinkling with fondness, Seokjin laughs deeply. So busy pleasuring himself, it seems he misunderstood the question.

He squeezes Yoongi’s hip. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want—I want—” Yoongi stammers indecisively, torn between the two options when he wants both so badly. How could Seokjin make him choose? He furrows his eyebrows, his dark pretty eyes wobbling in disarray.

“Want you to fuck me.” He decides, wiggling his hips and fidgeting restlessly, hungry for more friction. “All the way.”

Seokjin nearly moans on the spot, wanting nothing more than to fill Yoongi up, to care and provide for him, pleasure, sustenance, and all. Seokjin will give Yoongi anything he wants. He’ll give Yoongi the world.

“Are you sure?” He speaks, slowly and carefully, gazing into the younger’s eyes, searching for any signs of uncertainty or reluctance. Yoongi is so dear to his heart, he wouldn’t harm a precious hair on his head.

Yoongi frantically utters approval, his words slurred and voice seeping with desperation, “I want it. I want you. Please.”

Please is all Seokjin needs. His hands find purchase on Yoongi’s ass, fingers digging into the delightful plush of his cheeks as he picks him up and lifts from the couch with low strength and pure adrenaline. Yoongi clings on close, his little legs wrapped around his lower waist and his head pressed to his shoulder as he’s so effortlessly carried to the bedroom, given the princess treatment he deserves.

Seokjin sets Yoongi down on the bed, gently laying him on his back. Seokjin hikes his hoodie up his chest and over his head, pressing kisses down his bare torso, a striking porcelain, a beautiful blank canvas without a blemish, unlike Seokjin, whose flesh is scattered with love bites and scratch marks. Yoongi’s breath shudders as Seokjin peppers kisses all the way down to his belly.

He pulls at the waistband of his shorts and underwear, Yoongi barely raising his hips to help as Seokjin slips them down his legs and off his ankles, undressing him.

Eyes glimmering in awe, he pauses for a brief moment, which is not merely enough, just to absorb the sight of Yoongi, fully nude before him and vulnerable, and yet so dolice and trusting despite being hurt by past lovers.

“So pretty.” He murmurs, “You look like an angel.”

A blush paints Yoongi’s cheeks the prettiest shade of pink.

“Angel…” Seokjin continues, fingers lightly tracing the curve of Yoongi’s cock, short and pink, throbbing incessantly against his lower belly. “Can I finger you?”

“Yeah.”

Seokjin dips down, smooching Yoongi on the cheek. “Hold on for me, okay? Just need to grab something.”

Yoongi nods, but trembles as soon as Seokjin starts to break away. He won’t be gone long. He only needs to grab the necessities, a condom and a lubricant of some kind. Putting Yoongi’s comfort above all else, he wraps Yoongi in his softest throw blanket to keep him warm while he leaves the room.

After scouring his bathroom cabinets, he returns with a condom and a bottle of lube. Yoongi is much smaller than Seokjin, he will need to be stretched efficiently.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Seokjin sheds out of his clothes, his tee shirt first, then his shorts, then his boxer briefs, removing everything down to his ankle socks. Cutely bundled in a blanket burrito, Yoongi sits and watches Seokjin, captivated. His eyes glowing at all the bites on display, the hickies, the scratches, all of which were his doing, his markings on his human, all his.

He’s branded Seokjin with love.

His eyes settle on Seokjin’s long cock, fiercely red, heavy, and dangling. He seems caught off by his size, perhaps worried whether or not Seokjin will fit inside of him.

“You’re big.”

“Yeah?” Seokjin chuckles, flinging his socks across the room. Yoongi’s past partners must have been on the smaller side. He’s probably taken a long cock, maybe a girthy cock, but never both, never the full package.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” He promises the younger, securing it with a kiss on the lips. “We’ll go slow. I’ll make you feel good.”

Yoongi settles down, his head cushioned on his favorite pillow and his lips stretched into a warm relaxed smile.

Seokjin lifts and spreads his pliable legs, revealing a pink tightly puckered hole he can’t resist teasing with his bare finger tip. Yoongi wiggles his hips, whining for more stimulation, a single finger tip simply not enough.

Seokjin soon answers his pleas, squeezing a generous amount of lube on his fingers and a little more around his rim. Yoongi shudders from the coolness of the lube and the two thick fingers prodding at his entrance.

Seokjin thinks Yoongi can handle two fingers but that is not the case. Even with the excess lubricant, it is two fingers too much. Yoongi is astonishingly tight, like he’s never been penetrated, like he’s never so much as stuck a finger up himself to play around or experiment.

Yoongi has a virgin tight hole, but he is no virgin, not to Seokjin’s knowledge, he’s had countless boyfriends—

“Aah, sorry, I’m so tight.” Yoongi mumbles insecurely. “I haven’t done this s-since I was—”

Alive.

Human.

Yoongi was revived from the dead. Is it far-fetched to believe his virginity was restored? To believe this could be a second chance? A chance to be Yoongi’s first and only lover, to protect him for the rest of his life, and treat him right.

“You’re okay.” Seokjin smiles with reassurance. “I’ll start with one. Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Seokjin slows his pace for Yoongi, pressing one finger through the tight ring of muscle. Yoongi audibly gasps, adjusting to the long finger that diligently works its way inside of him. Seokjin takes his time stretching sensitive muscle before he introduces another finger, sinking it in and scissoring the two inside. Yoongi’s jaw falls slack, his breath labored as pleasure spreads like wildfire. Seokjin watches him scratch at the bedsheets.

“Feels good?”

“Good.” The younger nods incessantly, his pretty eyes clouding over and body flushing pink with heat. “More. Give me more.”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut as Seokjin slowly works a third inside of him, his sharp nails tearing the sheets of his bed when a finger brushes against his sweet spot. The sensation is so good and so unexpected, he can’t help but to scratch. God, is it the cutest habit Seokjin has ever seen too. Yoongi looks just like a cat.

He leans down, capturing Yoongi’s pretty parted lips in a slow sensual kiss where tongues greet and tangle. Seokjin slips his fingers in and out, stretching him with precision. Every heavenly sound Yoongi lets out, soon moaning into his mouth, Seokjin fingers him that much harder, faster, almost tipping him over the edge from fingers alone. Beautifully disheveled, Yoongi breaks the kiss with a long string of saliva dripping from his fang.

“Hyung.” He calls breathlessly. “Close. Hurry. Want you inside.”

“I hear you, Yoon.” He hums, thumb caressing Yoongi’s squishy cheek. He slowly, carefully removes his fingers from his pink puffed rim, which twitches in protest and clenches on air. Yoongi pouts and whimpers, missing the fullness of his fingers.

The younger watches with reverence as Seokjin tears a large condom wrapper open with his teeth, stretching the lubricated latex over his cock. He kneels down and maneuvers Yoongi’s legs around him, lining himself up with Yoongi’s pink furled rim. Narrowing his eyes with concentration, he slowly presses the tip of his cock through pulsing hot muscle. Yoongi releases a wet throaty open-mouthed moan, writhing underneath him.

Though he was meticulously prepped, his hole proves impossibly tight. Seokjin grits his teeth, guiding himself in while Yoongi scratches at his sheets, the pressure driving mad. Scratching fabric does not seem to satiate his need for purchase, and his desperate hands fly to Seokjin’s back, sharp nails digging crescents into his flesh.

Seokjin doesn’t mind the stinging pain when Yoongi’s walls grip him so deliciously, accommodating for the thick intrusion. A primal groan leaves his lips as he presses deeper and deeper, carving his way inside.

God, Yoongi takes cock so well, so perfectly, almost like a key in a lock, destined to fit together. Yoongi’s virgin tight hole molds to his shape and size, only his.

“Doin’ so good, Yoon.” Seokjin says, “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

“F-Full.”

“Full, yeah?” Seokjin hums attentively. “You like being full?”

“Aah, y-yeah.”

His back becomes Yoongi’s personal scratching post, Yoongi clawing helplessly as he’s stuffed to the brim, trying to adjust to the fullness. Seokjin sighs, slowly bottoming out, hips brushing into soft porcelain skin.

He takes Yoongi’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“I fit.” Seokjin smiles in relief. “Can you feel me?”

Yoongi rotates his hips, his mouth falling wide open at the cock buried deep inside, the largest he’s taken, stroking his prostate with the slightest movement.

“I’ll start moving now, okay?” Seokjin says, squeezing Yoongi’s hand tighter. “Tell me if you need me to slow down.”

Yoongi nods, but is not at all prepared for penetration when it comes. His gasps for breath as Seokjin rolls his hips, thrusting in and out at a deliberately slow pace, gauging how much he can take. He brushes Yoongi’s sweet spot each and every time, tipping him closer to his breaking point. Tears swell soon in Yoongi’s eyes as Seokjin takes his cock in his fist, pink and leaking with precum, leisurely pumping it as he rolls his hips harder.

Heat unfurling in his lower stomach, Yoongi becomes so overwhelmed with pleasure, he buries his head into the crook of Seokjin’s neck, clinging on for dear life.

A powerful thrust and another hit to the prostate does Yoongi in, he whines loudly, beautifully, hastily latching onto his neck and clamping down hard as his body shakes with orgasm, spilling right into Seokjin’s hand.

Unbearable pain.

Seokjin freezes in place, his vision flashing red as his neck catches fire, an excruciating ache from his pulse point, to his veins, and through his nervous system.

Heart palpitating, he recoils in shock, releases Yoongi’s hand, and brings his fingers to his neck, soaking wet with blood. A perturbing chill runs down his spine.

He stares at his fingers, coated in crimson, trembling in disbelief.

A vampire bite to the neck.

“Oh my god.” Yoongi cries, mortified, his pupils shaking and chest heaving, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to! I just—I couldn’t stop—”

“It’s okay.” He speaks firmly, hushing Yoongi’s cries.

“But—” Yoongi sniffles worriedly. “But you’ll turn.”

“It’s okay.” Seokjin repeats with a soft forgiving smile, his eyes housing no fear, no regret, no animosity, only tender everlasting love for Yoongi. Seokjin arches down, kissing Yoongi right between his furrowed eyebrows. “It just means you’ll have me forever.”

Yoongi's eyes glisten with tears, moved by Seokjin’s words. He nods his head with assurance. “Forever.”

Seokjin cradles the back of Yoongi’s head, pressing him to his marked neck. Yoongi latches back on, sucking greedily and shivering with euphoria. An insane rush of dopamine rips through Seokjin as his blood is drained.

He fervently guides himself back inside overstimulated spasming muscle, releasing a throaty groan as his hot slippery hole clutches so perfectly around his cock.

Seokjin pistons his hips, fucking through the tightness, fucking Yoongi faster, harder, until skin loudly smacks, the bed rattles, and Yoongi gurgles on his blood, nearly choking. He fights to hold on, clawing the shit out of Seokjin’s back with each penetration. It stings so badly, but the pain only propels him to fuck Yoongi senseless.

Each smack of the hips sends Yoongi closer and closer to heaven too.

He bottoms out every time, pounding Yoongi’s prostate relentlessly, pulling the lewdest sounds from his blood smeared lips. He gives up on sucking blood, his intense craving and need to be stuffed, satiated with Seokjin’s cock. His head lolls to the side, only the whites of his eyes showing as he moans and drools pink bloody saliva. He is the prettiest mess Seokjin has ever seen.

Yoongi’s body gives out from the nonstop battering. With a broken cry, Yoongi spurts another load all over his tummy, cumming untouched. Seokjin clenches his teeth, his thrusts never ceasing, he wildly fucks him through a second orgasm, feeling his own approaching with the heat coiling tightly in the pit of his stomach.

Seokjin’s hips stutter as a hurricane of pleasure ripples through his body. His vision fades to black. With a long, guttural groan, Seokjin cums buried inside of Yoongi.

Chest heaving, he falls over Yoongi, coming down from the most beautiful orgasm he’s ever had, a once in a lifetime orgasm that leaves him lightheaded and seeing stars.

After he’s caught his breath, he carefully pulls out and rolls onto his back, his eyes fluttering shut as he smiles with bliss.

He wraps his arm around Yoongi who snuggles right into his side, but he doesn’t rest comfortably, his eyes linger on Seokjin’s bite wound. He reaches up, his fingers tentatively tracing the bruised punctured skin.

Yoongi’s breath shakes as he’s crushed with guilt. “I’m really sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Seokjin hums, shaking his head passively as he holds him tighter, his lips stretching into a sweet sugary smile that stabs at Yoongi’s heart. Time stops when Seokjin locks eyes with Yoongi, his angel, his dearest, his heart, who he will sacrifice the world to.

He kisses Yoongi on the forehead. “Just promise you’ll take good care of me, okay?”

“I’ll take care of you.” Yoongi nods frantically, his face flushed pink and his precious lips trembling as he fights the urge to sob and grieve. Yoongi holds his hand and smiles, tragically soft and tender. “I promise, hyung.”