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illusionnet · 3 months ago

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Check this new post by @armysantiny "A Cup of Spiced Tea - JWY"

A Cup of Spiced Tea – JWY

P: Jung Wooyoung x male reader | G: one-shot, fluff, angst | Inc: columnist!Wooyoung, coffee shop owner!reader, born vampire!reader, eventual turned vampire!Wooyoung, turned vampire!Yeosang, mentioned Lee Know, mentioned Changbin, mentioned Yeonjun, mentioned Yoongi, mentioned Hoseok, set in suburban town, again sorta based on the town I live in, Wooyoung overthinks a lot, y/n has a fledgeling (oc character), Wooyoung suspecting his best friend is a vampire, fostering-esque dynamics, slow-blooming attraction between Wooyoung and y/n, Wooyoung is attacked, bite scenes, casual and graphic depictions of blood | Wc: 10.5k

W: assault from feral vampire, blood loss, graphic depictions of blood and vampire bite, falling unconscious from blood loss, leg injury (from Yeonjun), anymore please lmk! | R: 15

Summary: Wooyoung can’t do this anymore, can’t keep working otherwise he might just start losing his mind. Thankfully, his boss isn’t a cruel oligarch, so he’s off for a six-month long career break, tasked with nothing but one request; to re-find his inspiration and return to work afterwards with fresh eyes. Luckily enough, finding inspiration is easy; tea and coffee shop A Bite for Tea has all of that in heaps and bounds, the only hard part is trying to ignore all the oddities surrounding the place. And about the people around him, now that he isn’t buried neck deep in work anymore.

Min's notes: I know it's past Christmas, but! Here's my secret santa fic, @nebulousbrainsoup! I enjoyed every moment writing this fic, lux, and I really hope you enjoy reading this as well. I will admit, having you give me advice for this fic all the while knowing I was writing this for you was incredible lmao, I kept wondering if you could somehow tell. Again, hope you enjoy this, I can't wait to start planning out and writing part two to this. This is by far the longest thing I have ever written ^-^

Part 2 (coming soon)

“…and what I’m really trying to say is that I need a break. A long one, I think.” Wooyoung’s chest heaves as he gets the last word out, fists clenched tightly in his lap. So tight in fact that he’s digging his nails into his palms, pain blooming underneath that he’s hardly registering. Sitting here like this, in Editor Lee’s office awaiting a verdict like he’s on trial is beyond daunting, and it’s doing his racing heart no favours at all. His ears are ringing too. And despite the fact Wooyoung knows for certain that his boss is watching him, the name plaque on the desk looks leagues more interesting than the prospect of meeting the older man’s gaze.

At least if his request gets denied and discarded much like his last failed submission, Wooyoung won’t have to look into the eyes of MayFly Arts’ Chief Editor, Lee Minho.

God, he can hear it now already, can’t he? Editor Lee’s tongue clicking in disappointment before the bombshell is dropped on him and Wooyoung will be left to pick up the pieces of his career from the bottom of his broken heart. He’ll have to find a new job. Go through interview after interview. Promote himself like some cheap sellout artist. Rework his resume over and over again. All the hassle he hasn’t had to do in the last five years because there is no way he's walking out of this office with his job still intact—

“Jung Wooyoung-ssi?” Is what breaks Wooyoung out of his spiral, the unusually calm voice of Editor Lee gently taking hold of his attention. The older man has never looked at him so…warmly before, as far as he remembers, that it makes Wooyoung shrink back even further into his seat. He’s sure he looks like some sort of frightened prey animal, now that he thinks about it. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

A trick question. It has to be.

“Uhh…that I should get back to work?” Wooyoung all but squeaks out, somehow maintaining eye contact. Yet that also happens to be the wrong answer…? Seriously, how is he getting this all wrong? He’s the highest rated columnist in their department, figuring this out should be child’s play.

Editor Lee’s face falls, expression morphing into what the columnist can only describe as concern. Can’t be concern for himself, surely, his recent performance has been plummeting faster than those dumb cars-dropping-in-different-gravity videos Changbin shows him during their lunch breaks. Watching in abject horror as his boss gets up out of his chair and walks on over to sit in the chair beside him, Wooyoung has absolutely no frame of reference for his reaction to the next ten words that come out of the Chief Editor’s mouth.

“I’ll grant you your career break, Wooyoung. You deserve it.”

Oh. Well then.

Just like that. Just like that, the rope of tension and fear and potential unemployment are cut and Wooyoung’s shoulders all but slump in relief. He’d cry if he hadn’t already spent a good ten minutes in bathroom before this unleashing the flood gates of tears he was keeping at bay. Instead, he blinks, entirely astonished all the while he thinks he’s breaking out into a smile. Maybe. Hopefully. Honestly it’s been so long since he’s genuinely smiled the action itself feels odd.

“Thank you, sir, really, I appreciate this more than you could—”

“There is one thing I’m going to ask of you though,” Editor Lee begins, and frankly, at this point there’s nothing Wooyoung won’t do for this man after the generosity he’s been bestowed. “And it’s to return to work with fresh eyes and some real inspiration. We both know you’ve been less than happy with your work—as good as it is regardless—so you’re going to go home after work today, rest, and I’m not going to hear a word from you until after those six months are up. Sound good to you?”

“That sounds good. Really good.”

And it still sounds good as Wooyoung punches in the code to his apartment and steps inside, kicking his shoes to the side and dropping his things on the closest surface before making a beeline for his sofa and unceremoniously plopping down on it. It’s almost surreal, now that he’s sitting here at home, thinking about the weight that’s been lifted off of his chest. His first major time off work in god knows how long—five years, three months and ten days, not that anyone’s counting—and Wooyoung almost can’t believe it. Almost. There’s so much he wants to do with the time off he has, the only problem now is figuring out what to do first, staring into the void of his unlit TV screen with only his reflection staring back at him.

What to do…what to do…

He could call someone. The last time he managed to find time to hang out with Yeosang was a few weeks ago, and the other man should be finishing his shift right about now…

It’s the sound of coffee machines and distant background chatter that greets Wooyoung as soon as his lifelong friend answers the video call, Yeosang balancing his phone off of something or other as he unties his apron. In the few seconds of silence between the two of them, Wooyoung unabashedly allows his eyes to linger on his friend’s physique, a low whistle slipping past his lips. Not like he can be blamed, right? Sue him for having pretty best friends.

“Are you done ogling me now?” Yeosang deadpans from the other side of the phone, the other man’s device clearly in his hands as he watches Wooyoung nod like a satisfied cat. But it’s all clearly just fine when Yeosang continues, “My shift’s over, I’m almost done grabbing all of my stuff, how are you? Everything alright?”

“Oh, it’s more than alright over here; I have news~” Wooyoung starts, sitting up in preparation for his big reveal. As the columnist’s longest friend, Yeosang’s been his biggest ever supporter in operation Take a Goddamn Break. “I am happy to report that I have done it!”

“Done it..?”

Wooyoung nods. Again.

“Done…” a few seconds of confused Yeosang mutterings later, realisation strikes the other man like a freight train. “Your career break?! Your boss allowed you to take a break?”

Wooyoung almost wants to cry with relief, grinning through incredulous laughter as Yeosang almost appears to pack his things together at record speed. His heart feels warm, overjoyed that Yeosang is just as happy as he is. He chats with Yeosang for a little while longer, listening to other man recount his day as well, hanging onto every word with enthusiasm.

“Hey, how do you feel about a celebration?” Yeosang blurts out, his eyes looking at something past the screen that Wooyoung can’t quite make out. “A successful operation calls for one…and the guys at work really recommend this one takeout place I’m looking at right now.”

…Fuck it, why not?

Decked out in casual clothes, a spread of fried chicken and cans of beer between them, Wooyoung cuddles right up against Yeosang as he reaches for another chicken drumstick, nearly cackling at the drama on screen alongside his friend’s half-stumped half-frustrated commentary on the plot. In all honesty, Wooyoung can’t even remember the name of whatever it is that they’re watching, having far too much fun acting like the pair of them are naïve university students again staying up late before a nine am lecture and not the busy—and overworked, one would argue—working adults that they are. And it’s no crime, returning to the bliss of their younger years, if just for the night.

So, he indulges himself in another piece of fried chicken, graciously moving to the side so Yeosang can get up and grab an extra can from the fridge. A can of what, he doesn’t recall, and neither does he recall Yeosang ever looking so…buff before. Has he been working out? And how didn’t he notice when he was using the other man like a glorified body pillow?

“I’m going to start charging you, you know that?” There’s a cold press on Wooyoung’s forehead. Looking up from the Yeosang-shaped wall of muscle to the man himself with a sheepish smile, and with a much closer view of the barista than before, the smile morphs into something more curious. Searching.

“Mhm,” is the columnist’s non-committal response, squinting his eyes to get a closer look. Yeah, no, surely there’s something different. “Sang-ah, I should’ve asked, but when did all of this happen? Swear the last time I saw you, there was considerably less muscle. I mean— not that I’m complaining!”

Yeosang clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he goes to sit down, ever the bashful man about his own appearance. It’s almost too easy to make him flustered, and Wooyoung wants to take advantage of that fact, but he’s feeling merciful tonight. And the subject of his questioning has provided him with an offering. Another can of beer. Sweet.

“So~?”

“Alright, alright,” Yeosang concedes, “I started going to the gym with some of the hyungs from work, and they helped me stick to my old workout plan. It’s really helped…clearly.”

“What about the looking like you haven’t seen the sun in three months?” Wooyoung asks, leaning in close. In turn, Yeosang also leans back, deftly opening his can with the free hand not currently holding the columnist a normal distance away from his face.

“I’ve been streaming more now; it’s properly taken off and everything. So…I haven’t really been outside much lately. That a good enough answer, Mr Journalist?”

“I am a columnist thank you very much!” And yes, of course it is, Wooyoung doesn’t say.

“Eh, same thing.”

A weekend later and with the beginning of his career break well underway, there’s nothing much for Wooyoung to do at the impeccable time of five in the morning. And there’s no hope of getting back to sleep. His body clock is far too adjusted for that. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling won’t give him all the answers and neither will photosynthesising from the sunlight filtering through his blinds, so Wooyoung hauls himself up, swinging his legs over the edge and stretches like a well-rested cat. If he can’t already think of something to do with his time, he’ll just have to enjoy breakfast and take a walk around the town he’s called home for the last few years. A pretty solid plan, right?

Breakfast comes and goes—an iced americano and that pain aux raisin Yeosang brought last night—quickly enough that Wooyoung’s out of apartment building and in the fresh air to still see the odd office worker making their way to work. A glance at his phone reveals it’s seven thirty, a time that’d usually have him in the midst of his commute. But he’s not doing that. He doesn’t have to do that now.

It's pretty freeing, actually.

Tugging his coat closer around his body, Wooyoung sticks his hands in his pockets and continues walking along the pavement. It’s not long before he’s nearing the high street, and even then he’s already passed a few buildings and stores he’s never noticed before. Between work and the commute to his downtown office, Wooyoung’s less familiar with his own neighbourhood that he probably should be. There’s the odd convenience store he’s been inside a couple of times, sure, but other than that?

Damn, he’s practically a stranger here. Is he that much of workaholic?

Determined to familiarise himself with the neighbourhood, Wooyoung keeps up his tidy little routine for the next week or so. He visits the stores nearby, spends an evening or two in a café (okay, these are alright, but not exactly to his slightly particular tastes) and befriends a music store owner named Yeonjun. The latter of which took him a few hours; the fastest he’s made a friend, in fact.

“Is this new..?” Wooyoung mutters under his breath as he takes a left turn onto a quaint alley he’s only just noticed during his walks. It’s a tea and coffee shop, he thinks upon taking a few steps closer and huffs a laugh when he catches sight of the sign. A Bite for Tea. Of course it’s a pun. “Might as well take a look inside then.”

The inside of the place itself is…well, it’s warm, inviting and just the sort of place he’d have recommended in one of his articles a few months ago, if he had known of its existence. A cozy little find, or something along those lines. He takes a breath, and the immediate hit of coffee and a myriad of other kinds of tea in the air wrap around him like a gentle hug. And he’s smiling at nothing in particular. What the hell—in a good way, he thinks. The door’s already shut behind him, a door chime above his head sounding out that he’s only just noticed, and if he leaves now he’ll look only a little out of his mind.

No big deal.

“Uh, hi,” he says, approaching the counter and trying not to stare at the—damn, he’s blushing—man at the counter. “Can I get an iced americano with caramel, please?”

“Sure thing,” the barista grins, “do you want anything else with that? All the baked goods are made in-house.” And surely, Wooyoung’s eyes travel over the counter at the tidy display of baked goods and everything looks homemade. In that artisan-bakery-but-not-snobbish way.

A few minutes later and he’s sitting at one of the handful of tables, sipping on his coffee between bites of lemon drizzle cake and jotting down ideas in his Notes app. Between the citrus sweetness of the cake and the atmosphere in this coffee shop, Wooyoung’s never felt so inspired. There are ideas pouring out of him, filling up the notes page faster than he’s ever written before. He takes another bite of the cake, catches himself almost moaning at the taste—seriously, this is witchcraft, how is it this good?!—and makes a promise to visit the coffee shop more often. This place is inspiration turned physical. The fact this has been a few minutes away from his apartment for who knows how long, and he’s not known about it? Absolutely criminal.

Yes, it’s technically his fault for burying his head in work. So what? Still a crime.

He brings a journal with him now, each day that’s stepping foot inside A Bite for Tea and taking advantage of the surge of creativity it’s giving him. It’s not exactly any kind of work that he’s writing, just some short stories and prose, but he is writing and that’s what counts here. Without fail, every single baked treat he orders (by far his favourite has to be either the cinnamon sugar croissant loaf or those ‘everything’ bagels Wooyoung swears he’d sell his soul for) is practically perfect and has that fresh-out-of-the-oven warmth he adores. Every single time he’s stopped by these last few days, oddly enough.

Y/n doesn’t put too much faith in stereotypes, or overdone tropes, but he’s certainly been picking up on pattern lately. A new regular of his, if a week straight of visiting the coffee shop meets the criteria, likes sitting in the exact same spot. Under the window y/n affectionately nicknames the ‘sun-canopy’ with a drink, snack and journal in hand. Like a cat basking in the sun’s warmth. Or one of his coven’s members on their days off.

It's a thought that makes the coffee shop’s owner grin as he pulls a fresh batch of bagels out of the industrial-sized oven, setting it aside to cool and dusting his hands on the apron tied around his waist. It’s still pretty early, no later than nine am at most and thanks to a quick peek out front, there’s no one at any of the tables yet. Apart from Reddie, but the Abyssinian cat gets a pass.

Just enough time to dash upstairs and retrieve the thing he had delivered last night.

Right on time. Y/n perks up as Journal Writer™ enters the shop around half noon, congratulating himself on timing when he’d bake the latest batch of bagels. They’ve just finished cooling, definitely still warm to touch and the smell of them alone is making y/n’s mouth water. He’ll just have to settle with toasting one later and having it with that spiced preserve he’s been saving. Or perhaps with a cup of blood-infused tea. Journal Writer looks to the display case and for a moment, y/n’s worried he might have assumed wrong.

“Can I get an iced americano and an everything bagel, please?” Whatever worries he had a minute ago are gone, because the raven-haired man orders exactly what y/n was expecting. He fulfils the order, a pleased smile etched onto his face.

It’s rare for his vampiric intuition to fail him.

Y/n hears rather than sees the confused hmm while he’s giving the coffee shop counter a quick wipe down, peering up and unable to resist the amused huff that slips past his lips. The sight itself is pretty picture-worthy; Reddie curled up right where Journal Writer plans to sit down, leisurely batting the little reserved sign on the table. Storing the cloth and disinfectant under the counter where it belongs, y/n steps around it and closes the short distance before gathering the cat in his arms, admonishing her with a gentle tap on the forehead.

“Sorry about her,” y/n says, giving in and giving the cat a few scritches before sending her on her way. “Reddie’s not usually the type to sit on the tables. Let me give it a quick wipe down for you.”

Returning behind the counter to grab wipes and a couple tissues, y/n gives the table a once over, catching the confused look his new regular’s giving him out of the corner of his eye. Why’s he looking at him like that..?

He follow’s Journal Writer’s gaze, and right. The reserved sign.

“Ah right, I should have mentioned, but the sign’s actually there for you.”

“Huh? Really?” And y/n has to be forgiven for the way he can practically feel his pupils dilating at the sight in front of him. Journal Writer looking at him with wide eyes, raised brows and lips parted in surprise. With enough focus, he can hear a pulse, steady but strong, picking up the pace a little and—

No. He’s not even hungry. Y/n can hold off until sunset.

“Yeah,” y/n starts off, straightening up. “I know it might be a little… much, but I’ve noticed you’ve liked sitting at this table for the past week or so. Since this place doesn’t get too much attention, I figured putting the sign here wouldn’t be too much hassle.”

Y/n leaves that conversation with a few new pieces of information to himself. First, that Journal Writer’s affinity for the sun-canopy isn’t something he’s imagined up, and that his new regular is pretty cute. And human, though y/n really should have noticed that by now. Though with the modest customer base the coffee shop does have, it’s hard to deny that y/n assumes most people who walk through the doors aren’t human.

In between serving the handful of customers that show up over the next few hours, sustaining his cravings with the flask he keeps in the kitchen and looking after Reddie, y/n admires the way the sunset begins to creep over the sky. Or what of the sunset he can see from the front counter. It’s beautiful, painting soft pinks and orange overhead and dusting the side-street the coffee shop sits on in a cozy glow. With hardly anyone in the coffee shop, y/n excuses himself—to no one in particular—and makes a spiced mug of peppermint tea, letting the warmth of the mug seep into his hands as he watches the last remnants of daylight pass by.

Until a very familiar car parks by out front. The Coven is here.

“Councillor Jung,” Y/n says, discarding the half-empty mug on the counter and making his way round. “Is something the matter? You don’t make unannounced visits unless—”

“I need to, I know.” Councillor Jung Hoseok answers stoically, finishing y/n’s sentence. The older vampire merely looks back towards the car, where Councillor Min helps someone—a fledgling, no doubt—out of the grey SUV and into A Bite for Tea. The sight alone sends a chill down y/n’s spine the longer he takes in the young fledgling’s dishevelled appearance.

Who is this and what on earth happened?

“We knew you were open to emergency cases,” Councillor Jung continues while y/n remains in shock. “And we’ve only just had this young lady’s case come in, may we speak inside?”

“Yes, yes of course, come on upstairs. We can speak inside my apartment.” Y/n stammers out, clearing his throat and leading the two older men up to his home above the coffee shop. His mind races, the mere sight of the fledgling stirring up possibilities that the vampire rather not imagine.

He doesn’t even register Councillor Min’s comment on the human currently half-asleep at the table.

Wooyoung’s still thinking about it. It’s been a good few days since he’s been to the coffee shop—a full month since his career break started too, now that he thinks about it—and Wooyoung cannot stop himself from questioning what on earth it was that he heard that evening. Nor does it help the fact that he was half-asleep when it happened, dragging himself out of A Bite for Tea that night with a yawn and languid steps. It’s maddening, he realises while taking a spoonful of the omelette rice he made earlier, letting the TV play without paying much attention to it anymore.

Is something going to happen to his new favourite spot? Why did he hear two strange voices talking about fledglings and maintaining a regular feeding schedule?

“I’m losing my mind. I have to be.” Wooyoung announces to his empty apartment, shoving another spoonful of rice into his mouth and nearly choking on said rice when he’s jump scared by a loud sound effect from the TV show he’s been ignoring. He takes several deep breaths, trying to steer his mind in another direction entirely.

It doesn’t work.

He seriously can’t stop thinking about it.

He finishes the rest of his lunch in a huff, frustrated over his inability to figure out what exactly he heard that night and why he’s so fixated on it. With nothing else to distract himself from the incoming spiral, Wooyoung practically jumps off the sofa, putting his bowl away in a hurry and searching for his phone—which he swears he left in his room, god knows where.

Just as he thought, the blasted device is exactly where he left it, waiting for him on his desk and Wooyoung snatches it up as he sinks into his desk chair. The brief dopamine hit plummets like a stone when he unlocks the device and reads the latest message from Yeonjun, an understanding pout on his face.

Jjun: Woo mate I’m so so sorry :(( [14:32]

Jjun: Gonna have to cancel tonight, shelving unit dropped on my leg + stuck in A&E rn [14:33]

The mental picture alone makes Wooyoung grimace, pins and needles shooting down to his legs as his mind ever so kindly makes the mental image more and more realistic. Either way, that’s his plans out of the window, leaving the man with nothing concrete to do for the rest of the day other than veg out on his sofa and catch up on his drama watch-list. Or get back to playing Baldur’s Gate 3, his last save leaving him with much to look forward to. But while he can wallow in the misery of no longer having plans later, what he should do right now is let Yeonjun know that everything’s perfectly fine. Minus the possible broken leg, of course.

Woo: Dw! It’s all good ^-^ [14:46]

Woo: Be careful in future tho lmao, if you need me to pick you up after you’re done, lmk! [14:46]

Jjun: I will, and dw, my cousin’s here with me, but thanks :D [14:50]

Scrolling through his phone for a few more minutes while he mindlessly spins back-and-forth in his chair, Wooyoung loses himself to the joys of online window shopping, adding more and more things to his various wish lists. He’ll get round to buying some of them eventually, just maybe when he can afford to spend more time working from home. And building his dream desk setup. Though he does treat himself to a new keyboard, humming in satisfaction when one of his many wish lists gets ever so slightly smaller.

“…do you want me to bring takeout again?” Yeosang asks from the other end of the call, Wooyoung ever so grateful that his childhood friend is willing to indulge his boredom.

“Nope~ just bring yourself, I’ve got some cheesecake in the fridge from the dessert place we like.” He chuckles, making his way over to the fridge and taking another look at the majestic slices of cheesecake sitting inside. “You’re not streaming today, right? That’s tomorrow?”

“Mhm, I’m thinking of doing something cozy,” he hears Yeosang hum, “there’s a few indie games I want to play, take my mind off of work, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. On your way?”

“Like, five minutes away, yeah. See you then.”

Hearing the sound of his door code being entered in successfully, Wooyoung hurries up bringing the cheesecake to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table and covering it with the cloche. There’s no one else it could possibly be, so he relaxes against the sofa as Yeosang invites himself inside, placing his shoes off to the side and collapsing onto Wooyoung’s sofa with a huff.

Ah. It’s a no questions asked kind of mood.

Apart from the sound of Yeosang letting off steam and the soft echo of oncoming rain outside, Wooyoung’s apartment is rather quiet, a serene stillness that not even the dimmed noise of his TV could disturb. It’s rather nice, actually. He’s not thinking about what happened the other night—or what he thinks happened—and he gets to spend the rest of the day with company he’s all too fond of. And the more he listens to Yeosang, the more he’s adding in quiet assertions of his own, engrossing himself in the retelling of a Karen who just wouldn’t leave the café, Yeosang’s place of work, alone.

“…honestly, Hyerin noona was a good five seconds away from calling the cops,” Yeosang giggles, obviously coming to the end of his retelling, “I swear, the temperature dropped like, a whole ten degrees, she was so angry.”

“She’s your boss, right? Does she actually work front of house?” Wooyoung asks, then shuffles Yeosang’s head off of his lap to get up. “Hey— do you want hot chocolate? I bought some from this artisan place.”

“Yeah, that’s her. I mean, she’s not always at the front but she says it’s good for business or whatever that she spends at least some of her time out of her office.” Yeosang nods and then nods again when he processes the request tacked on to the end.

Well then, hot chocolate for two it is then.

Clicking his tongue along to the rhythm of nothing in particular, Wooyoung leans against his kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. The seconds feel like minutes, especially when he could be back in his living room enjoying the rest of Yeosang’s Karen story. In fact, he could do just that, since his kettle likes taking its sweet time the more water Wooyoung forces it to boil. So, he pushes himself off the counter, dramatically spinning around on his right foot so he can make his way back to his living room sofa.

Except his left foot catches on the leg of his laundry stand. Sending him careening towards the laminate flooring.

“Wooyoung!” Is the sound that greets him when he opens his eyes, and not the sound he was expecting: his body slamming against the floor. In a daze as Yeosang stands him the right way up and checks him over, Wooyoung can barely get a word out over the rushing sound of his panicked heartbeat in his ears nor the sound of the kettle—the little traitorous machine—finally done boiling. When he doesn’t respond beyond merely nodding when Yeosang asks if he’s okay, Wooyoung allows himself to be walked back to the sofa.

How did he not immediately faceplant his kitchen floor? How did Yeosang make it all the way over to him in that span of time?

“You’re okay, right?” Yeosang asks, having apparently finished prepping the hot chocolate and brought it to the coffee table. “Do you need me to call 112 or—”

“How did you do that?”

The dumbfounded look Wooyoung gets in return absolutely does not help.

“Yeosang I swear to God,” he stresses, reaching for his own mug of hot chocolate. “You know what I’m talking about. How the hell did you catch me in time?” Wooyoung’s question hangs in the air, tension building between them thick enough it could wrap around the living room in layers of uncomfortable warmth. All of a sudden, it feels like an interrogation, and the both of them take strangely long gulps of the beverage in their hands.

Well, shit.

If this has anything to do with his best friend looking strangely different lately, Wooyoung might just start spiralling even more than he already was these past few days. First he starts hearing these strange people walk inside the café he frequents, and now Yeosang is capable of crossing the entire expanse of his living room in the seconds it took for him to lose his balance and nearly fall over?

“I was already getting up when you started falling over.” Yeosang shrugs, unmuting the TV and paying attention to the show they were both ignoring a few minutes ago, sipping on his own hot chocolate.

He doesn’t know why, but Wooyoung can tell that that answer is bullshit. It has to be.

No less than five minutes after he finds himself alone in his apartment again, Wooyoung makes a beeline for his laptop. He needs to find an answer to this…thing that’s been plaguing him, otherwise he’s going to go stir-crazy. Entering his password and opening the browser as soon as he’s able to, Wooyoung’s fingers dart across the keyboard in record speed, entering his highly pressing question into the search bar.

My best friend doesn't look like himself and he's faster than usual. Is something wrong?

He’s met with a few odd-looking adverts, websites that lead to questionable services and finally, finally, the thing he’s looking for. Technically. It’s a reddit thread, with an alarmingly similar title, but it’s got what he needs, so Wooyoung clicks on it anyway.

“The fuck..?” The man mutters, reading further and further along the thread. Everything he’s reading matches up with all the weird nonsense he’s been going through, yet Wooyoung can’t wrap his head around it. It’s all so outlandish, something out of a fantasy novel or a young teen’s favourite fanfiction, but it just makes sense. “Turned— born— vampires?!”

If what he’s reading is true, and it’s slowly staring to seem so, then that means Yeosang is a…

No, he can’t be! Who would even do such a thing..?

Nausea settles in Wooyoung’s chest as he shuts the laptop, not bothering to turn it off properly. A chilling dread works its way through every part of his body, stealing the breath out of his lungs the more he dwells on everything he’s learnt. It keeps him trapped at his desk. Keeps his body frozen despite the way his subconscious yells at him to write something, to do something, anything about his discovery. The retro clock on his desk ticks away the seconds, only made louder by the stillness in the air until Wooyoung inhales sharply and almost knocks himself out from the sudden oxygen spike. Staying like this surely can’t be good for his health. He needs to move, work off the anxious ball of stress winding itself around his heart, he…

He needs to sleep.

“I need a drink.”

Three days. Three days of fretting and pacing around his apartment later and Wooyoung is without a doubt a mess. How in the world is he not supposed to be? The things he learned in that reddit thread still haunt him, ever in the back of his mind. Even as he finishes tying the laces on his shoes and steps out of his home, intent on getting outside. His journal’s been untouched lately too. Maybe checking in on Yeonjun or finding a new trinket to buy will distract him from the image he keeps flicking back to of Yeosang being attacked and turned into a vampire against his will. Or visiting that stationary store near the train station—his supply of washi tape has been slowly depleting.

Frankly, whatever it is, he needs to get out of the house and get some fresh air.

After a few hours outside, a good number of purchases in his bag and a surprisingly little number of stress-inducing thoughts, Wooyoung’s feeling much better. The breeze is gentle, rustling the leaves that remain now that the weather’s growing colder. He tugs his scarf just that little bit tighter around his neck while he continues to walk through town, a breathy chuckle slipping past his lips as a chill makes his way down his spine.

The chill leaves him as soon as he steps inside A Bite for Tea, door chime sounding out above as warmth wraps around him. It’s only been a few days, yet it’s like coming home after months away. Home to a cozy coffee shop with its handful of customers and swathes of inspiration.

“The usual?” Is what greets Wooyoung as he approaches the counter, coupled with a charming smile from the man opposite him. For a moment, he loses himself in the added familiarity of it, until he clears his throat and finally gets round to ordering.

“Yeah, but a regular americano this time, I think.”

“Sure thing. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll bring it to your table.”

Y/n’s worried. No, he’s… concerned? Reasonably unnerved? With how Journal Writer’s practically staring a hole into the untouched mug of coffee and oddly still, it bugs him. It was only a few minutes ago that his human regular was looking at him with a pleasant smile, after all. Surely it’s none of his business. He’s here to serve his customers with good coffee—spiced or otherwise—and food, not to push any buttons by asking questions. Yet y/n has plenty of questions he wants answers to, mostly about Journal Writer and why he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

When noon begins to bleed into late afternoon and even the evening without any sort of sign that Journal Writer’s feeling better about whatever it is, y/n sighs, washing a mug while his eyes keep trailing over to his regular by the sun-canopy. It wouldn’t be fair to keep ignoring it now—given the fact he’s had Lily, the fledgeling from a few nights ago, pester him to go and do something about that guy for the last few hours now. He puts the mug away, dries his hands, and sighs again. Time to find out what’s up with Journal Writer.

Luckily enough, it doesn’t seem like there’s going to be any more people coming into the shop today, so y/n abandons his post behind the counter. He leaves the sign on the door, in case anyone does decide to show up, and walks over to the sun-canopy. Journal Writer still hasn’t looked up from the rather bare journal page, and y/n chuckles, knocking the table and light-heartedly raising a brow when his presence is acknowledged.

“Knock-knock,” he says, pulling out a chair to sit down. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Sure, that’s alright.” Journal Writer answers, briefly looking up from his journal to y/n and shrugging. Only to look to the coffee shop counter, back to y/n, and right back to the counter. “Aren’t you usually behind the counter..? Are you allowed to..?”

Y/n laughs. God, he’s cute.

“I’d certainly hope so; I run the place after all.” He explains, watching the realisation dawn on the man in front of him. But since he’s sitting here for more than just a bit of small talk, y/n gets right to it. “But I, uh, I actually wanted to come over here and ask if you were okay? You spent a few hours just sorta…staring into space.”

“…I did?” Y/n nods. Journal Writer’s mouth falls into a silent oh. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“You can talk to me about it, if you want. Customer confidentiality and all that jazz.”

“Isn’t that for doctors?” Journal Writer asks with an amused tilt of his head, which y/n shrugs to. Semantics, he muses. Which is all takes for Journal Writer to laugh, call him curious and begin unloading everything that’s been worrying about.

It’s…well, it’s a lot.

“…and frankly, it’s really not that I’m worried about there being vampires in town or anything! I’m sure the majority are absolutely great! Wonderful, even! But Yeosang’s my best friend, and I have no idea how on earth he even turned. Whether he was forced to turn into one, attacked or didn’t know what he was getting into. I don’t even know when he was turned! And we’ve been friends for a decade; we tell each other everything!” Journal Writer forces an exhale as he barrels through the final part of his rant, talking as fast as the frantic heartbeat that y/n’s picking up.

Journal Writer’s desperate fretting the longer he goes on only helps to fester concern for the supposed turned vampire his regular’s talking about, y/n’s own temporary fledgling case fresh on his mind. Again, the vampire silently reminds himself, this is technically none of his business. It really isn’t. Yet the reminder doesn’t do anything about the growing desire to do something and help.

“…it’s probably not that big of a deal anyway, but I can’t stop myself from worrying, you know?” If only the—now that he’s really noticing—brunet knew how much that was true.

“Yeah, I get what you mean, it’s hard not to worry.” Y/n admits, then grimaces when he glances outside at how dark it is. “You’re free to tell me I’m overstepping, but will you be okay heading home tonight? It’s already pretty dark outside, and I do live just upstairs—"

Journal Writer giggles. If there was more blood in his system, y/n would be blushing right now.

“Thanks, but uh… I’ll be fine, my place isn’t too far away from here. I’m Wooyoung, by the way. Jung Wooyoung. And thank you, again, for listening to me talk your ear off. I appreciated it.”

“No problem, I’m glad I could help.” He says, and then promptly remembers that he hasn’t introduced himself yet. Or at all, since he’s vicariously known Wooyoung. “Oh— and I’m y/n. Y/n l/n.”

Somehow the rest of that conversation ends with numbers being exchanged. Mostly in the guise of y/n knowing when to expect the brunet in the shop. Wooyoung’s off soon after that, bowing his head as he leaves the coffee shop and leaving y/n with an unfamiliar feeling in his chest.

A feeling that makes its way past y/n’s lips as a surprised huff an hour or so later as he finishes closing the shop and the dots connect themselves. Journal Writer. What a coincidence.

It doesn’t escape y/n either that he kept quiet about his own vampirism.

Wooyoung’s really starting to regret not accepting the coffee shop owner’s offer to stay the night, teeth practically rattling as he walks home. Clutching onto his coat isn’t helping either, the fabric not as equipped to the chill of winter as the columnist thought. It’s overcoat weather, frankly. The kind of weather that calls for hand warmers and thick scarves that wrap around like a blanket. Two items of clothing that Wooyoung decidedly chose not to wear tonight, instead betting his luck on a cotton trench coat and a pair of gloves.

He swears under his breath the moment he feels the air change around him. Hairs off the back of his neck stand up, alerted by the sudden stillness, both by Wooyoung and whatever it is that has him on edge. He’s not alone, and everywhere except the spots under the streetlights is practically pitch black. It can’t be anything, not when Wooyoung’s come to know these streets like the back of his hand over the last thirty or so days. Surely it’s nothing.

Still, he picks up the pace, walking with a lot more purpose now.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m going to be fine…” He whispers, repeating the mantra like a prayer while keeping an ear out for footsteps of any kind. There aren’t any.

But he’s still being followed. He just knows it.

Come on, one more street to cross and we’ll be there, Wooyoung reminds himself, letting his subconscious do the talking now that he’s too scared to utter a sound. His heartbeat’s loud enough as is, thank you very much. Walking so fast he’s almost jogging, it’s sheer luck that he’s not tripping over himself or anything else, barely focused on where he’s landing his feet. There’s just one more stretch of road ahead of him to cross before he’s on his street, before he can begin to count himself lucky and—

“Oh, stop running already.” A voice snarls, and Wooyoung’s being thrown against a lamppost.

His head hits on impact, a throbbing pain blooming like roses as he’s dazed and stumbles for balance. Everything happens so fast, the hands forcing him still, fangs grazing spot where his neck meets his collarbone, biting down and his blood rushing, rushing out of him. His attacker gulps it down greedily, audible, stomach-turning sounds of elation echoing in his ear all while Wooyoung body grows colder and colder by the second. This is it; he belatedly realises, this is where he’s going to die.

His face grows wet with tears. It isn’t supposed to end like this.

A last burst of adrenaline gives him enough strength to shove his attacker off, sending them only a few feet away, yet the assailant—some feral-looking vampire—doesn’t seem to mind. They head off, sprinting off into the darkness and leaving Wooyoung to crumple to the ground as the agony truly starts to kick in. His mouth opens in a silent scream, clutching at the open wound with both hands as blood continues to pour out of it, coating his hands, his clothes and filling the air with its iron-clad scent.

“Call…call, I need to—” call someone, he gasps, freeing one hand to rifle for his phone and shaking as he unlocks it. A wave of dizziness washes over him as he opens the dial menu, shaking like an autumn leaf as he presses on the first number in his recently dialled list. It doesn’t really matter who it is anymore, all Wooyoung needs is someone to help him.

It rings once. Then again. Then again.

“…Wooyoung-ssi? Is everything alright?”

Wooyoung’s phone clatters to the ground, the man already unconscious.

Y/n’s face pinches into a frown when there’s no response, the concern mounting even more the longer hears nothing but wind from Wooyoung’s end of the call. He sits up on the sofa, shifting Reddie off of his lap and muttering an apology when she meows in protest. He tries again, calling the other man’s name again and cursing when there’s still nothing. Like that’d solve anything.

Does he need to find him? He needs to find Wooyoung.

“Lily!” He calls out, having hung up the call and shrugged on a coat and shoes. She stumbles out of her room, eyes curious and watching him with trepidation. “I need to go look for someone; keep an eye on the apartment for me, hm?”

“Sure, uh, no problem. Are there rogues out?” She asks, unaware that y/n’s now thinking of worst-case scenarios. Councillor Jung had said rogue activity was picking up with the drop in temperature, why hadn’t he thought about that earlier?

“Hopefully not,” he says anyway, a placating smile that probably looks a tad too forced. “Optimism never hurt anyone.”

Oh, hells below, it’s freezing. Optimism be damned, y/n blows warm air between his hands as he runs down the street, trying to locate what’s expecting—and frankly dreading—to be Wooyoung hidden away somewhere. Hopefully just frozen to the bone and not…he pushes the thought away, not even willing to entertain the idea. The man was very much human just a few hours ago, and y/n can only wish that Wooyoung stays that way when he finds him. All he remembers is that Wooyoung was heading home, but he doesn’t know where the hell that is and he’s been running around town for the last ten minutes, thanking whoever can hear him for vampiric speed.

Desperation clings to y/n like a parasite, cloying heavy in his mouth with each frigid breath. There’s no way he’s going back to his apartment tonight unsuccessful. He just needs to keep looking, because if his unfortunately pessimistic gut-feeling is correct, the state he’ll find Wooyoung in won’t be good.

There’s a slumped body in the distance.

“Wooyoung-ssi!” Y/n calls out, praying he’s correct. He all but sprints over, skidding to a stop and kneeling down to examine the body. It is him, and y/n nearly cries out in relief until his senses catch up with him and he smells it. Blood.

It coats Wooyoung’s clothes, creates a small stain on the ground and y/n’s gaze is laser-focused as he searches for the source, a pit settling in his stomach at the nasty and vicious bite wound. It’s grim to look at, but y/n can’t afford to either keep staring or allow himself to taste the other man’s blood from the way the scent clogs his nose and reaches the back of his throat. The man’s still alive and getting him somewhere safe is what matters, not his own hunger.

He needs to try and wake Wooyoung up.

Y/n takes a deep breath—not that he needs the oxygen—and shakes the man’s shoulder, calling on Wooyoung repeatedly in a frantic attempt to get him to wake up. Seconds feel like minutes, y/n trying whatever he can to get a response. It’s freezing cold, so the faster that Wooyoung is awake and able to accept the vampire’s help, the better. Preferably in the next minute, because the chill is starting to seep through the thick overcoat he’s wearing.

“…y/n?” He hears Wooyoung breath out hoarsely, and latches onto it as a sign on life. Honestly he’ll take anything right now.

“That’s right, it’s me. I need you to stay awake, okay?” He asks, lacing his tone with as much reassurance as he can, though Wooyoung stares at him through delirious eyes. “It’s not far to my apartment, we’ll head there.” He hoists Wooyoung up, muttering apologies while he manoeuvres around to grab some of the things that have clattered to the ground, namely the same phone that dialled him earlier that evening.

Y/n: Bringing a friend back, he’s not doing too well [21:23]

Y/n: Bring the first aid kit and some spare clothes from my wardrobe to the living room for me? [21:24]

Lils: Got it! [21:25]

Lils: Hope your friend’s okay tho [21:25]

Y/n pockets his own phone after that, giving the almost empty streets and a dazed Wooyoung his full attention. They’re almost there, making slow progress, but still making progress, nonetheless. Readjusting his hold, y/n makes it to the other side, but frowns when Wooyoung becomes even more of a dead weight. It doesn’t deter him, merely making y/n hold onto him tighter with each passing step.

And then y/n feels Wooyoung grow limp, slumping in his arms.

“Hey, Wooyoung— look at me, hey,” y/n pants, patting Wooyoung’s face a tad more firmly now, jaw clenched, and brows pinched in effort. “You gotta stay awake, c’mon, just a little bit longer. I know you can make it, just hold on for me.”

Come on, come on, be alive dammit. There’s ringing in y/n’s ears when he presses his fingers to Wooyoung’s neck, searching for a pulse. It’s hardly even there, a weak echo of the strong and very much alive heartbeat he heard a few hours ago. Trembling as he pulls his hands away, y/n stares at the face cradled in his hands, a lump in his throat at thought of what he has to do. He can’t, but he has to. He doesn’t want to sink his fangs into Wooyoung, to turn him against his will but y/n needs to.

He needs to. He doesn’t know how old Wooyoung is, but the man’s too young to die. Not yet.

So, he opens his mouth, sinks his fangs into Wooyoung’s neck and drinks what’s left.

Lils: You still outside? [21:40]

Y/n: Got caught up. [21:49]

Y/n: I’ll be picking up extra blood tmrw morning. We’ll need it [21:51]

Waking up feels like being hit in the head with a sledgehammer. Everything’s much sharper, much clearer and Wooyoung isn’t sure he knows what the hell is going on. Between the strange ache in his gums and the pounding well, everywhere, headache, the columnist’s pretty sure today sucks. He blinks at the ceiling, staring at it a few minutes more trying to piece together just what about it looks so unfamiliar. Last he remembers, he was walking home after unloading his anxieties to the owner of A Bite for Tea, then got freaked out and—

Oh, right. This isn’t his ceiling.

“What the hell?!” He exclaims, shooting up into a vague sitting position and wincing when the motion worsens his headache. He’s not home, nowhere he recognises and in so much pain Wooyoung can hardly piece together his next thought. Squinting only relieves so much, so he abandons it all together, simply opting to look around and figure out where he is. He hears footsteps, snapping his head in the direction of the sound and freezing at the sight of a young woman staring right back at him, a hoodie drawn around her body.

“You finally up?” The woman says, observing him before turning to one of the doors. “Y/n, your friend’s awake!” She’s gone after that, entering a kitchen and leaving Wooyoung to stew in his confused shock.

Somehow the knowledge that he’s in y/n’s home puts Wooyoung’s mind at ease. At least he’s not in a complete stranger’s home, which isn’t the same as actually being at home, but it’s better than nothing. He’s pretty much left alone in the living room again, minus the oddly familiar cat wandering around, and there’s no time like the present to do a bit of snooping.

Adjusting and tightening the towel around his hips as he leaves the bathroom, y/n gives Reddie an appreciative scritch behind the ears before heading to his room in search of a change of clothes. The last eighteen hours have put him through the wringer, the sudden weight of new responsibilities bearing down on him. But it’s alright now; Wooyoung’s okay, the Council understand the situation and all he has to do now after getting dressed is have a conversation with the newly-turned vampire about it all.

Except the newly-turned vampire in question isn’t in the living room, but in his bedroom..?

“Wooyoung-ssi?” Y/n starts, the rest of his question hanging in the air as said air thickens with awkward tension. Wooyoung’s gawking at him, either mortified at being discovered or staring at his physique, and y/n can really only chuckle. It doesn’t help that the other vampire is wearing his clothes—after the bloodstained items were carefully stripped away to be dry-cleaned—making y/n traitorously think about how cute it looks.

“Is everything—”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” A gust of wind travels past y/n as Wooyoung bolts out of his room, unwittingly using his new physical capabilities. Physical capabilities that y/n’s going to have to explain in detail. He sighs, closing his bedroom door and opens his wardrobe.

Today is going to be a long day.

Sat on the sofa after a lengthy explanation of Wooyoung’s new predicament—that y/n would rather never have to do ever again—y/n clears his throat, the deafening silence hanging over the space creating a heavy blanket of tension. In fact, he can feel the hole that his newest fledgling is staring into the side of his head, unable to maintain eye contact longer than a few seconds at a time lest he feel even more guilty. Not for saving Wooyoung’s life. He could never feel guilty for that. Instead, y/n counts the already visible changes; the pallor tone of the man’s skin, visible heightened awareness of their current surroundings, and how y/n’s clothes hang on Wooyoung’s body. The last change he notices makes the older vampire (thanks to Wooyoung revealing he’s twenty-five. God, so young. Too young.) clear his throat again, too aware that he quite likes the image beside him.

“Let me get this straight,” he hears Wooyoung say, finally breaking the silence. “I’m vampire now?”

“A turned vampire, yeah.”

“Because you turned me, after I called you for help? Since you’re a vampire as well?”

“That’s right.” Y/n answers, voice strained. “You were succumbing to the blood loss and… I don’t know, I couldn’t just leave you there to bleed out in the cold.”

The silence is there again, until Wooyoung hums in a way that y/n hopes is acceptance. It’d be hard to take back his actions now anyway. And if Wooyoung chooses to avoid the coffee shop from here on out, he’ll understand.

“Right, okay… makes sense. I think. What about that girl who lives here? Did you turn her as well?” Wooyoung asks, and this, y/n can answer confidently. It’s something he’s passionate about, after all.

“Her name’s Lily, and she’s only really here for the month or so, until some things in her life settle.” He explains and definitely doesn’t think about why Wooyoung almost looks relieved, watching and listening to him intently. “I work with the National Coven to provide shelter to struggling new fledgelings, give them somewhere to stay whilst they get their life back in order. Usually after being unknowingly turned or their Sire disappearing far too soon. I guess you could say it’s a bit like fostering young people, just… with vampires.”

Wooyoung’s looking at him with a raised brow as his explanation comes to an end, a question clearly on the younger vampire’s lips. Is something the matter, y/n’s own expression says, brows raised as well. The silent counter-question translates easily apparently, since Wooyoung voices what’s on his mind.

“What about that coffee shop? I swear I remember you saying that were the owner…”

“I am, and well, it’s downstairs, so I might head down later to—hey! What’s with that look? The coffee shop really is downstairs, I’m serious! Do you want me to show you?”

“Sure, why not? Lead the way.”

Taking another sip from his new flask and in his own clothes again a few days later, Wooyoung counts down the seconds to when he knows Yeosang finishes his afternoon shift. There’s a conversation he needs to have now. Tell his best friend a secret that he suspects Yeosang should have told him as well. He watches the last few people leave the café, and then promptly starts getting impatient. Just what’s taking him so long? Tapping his foot, he zeroes in on the sound of familiar humming and pushes himself off the wall, almost predatorial in the way he waits for the moment to strike.

…That’s a new instinct.

“You. Come with me.” Yeosang’s only a few steps out of the café before Wooyoung’s pulling him in the other direction, towards the park across the road. Sure, the other man’s complaining, but for all his strength, Wooyoung isn’t feeling Yeosang pulling back.

“Young-ah, the hell?! What’s going on?” Yeosang questions as he stumbles towards the park bench, catching himself in time to sit down. Wooyoung forces an exhale and sits beside him, readying himself to let the floodgates spill open. “You’re acting odd, is everything okay?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you became a vampire?” He spits out, then runs a hand through his hair. Y/n did mention that he’d be more impulsive, but damn, he sounds like a right arse. He just wants the truth. “And don’t… don’t act like I haven’t caught on, I spent a whole day freaking out about this, alright? You already lied once; you owe me~”

He watches Yeosang try to come up with an answer, opening and closing his mouth enough times that Wooyoung lovingly calls him a fish, and then finally seem to admit defeat.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry about me,” Yeosang admits, “and I asked for this, Woo. No one attacked me or anything, promise.”

Lucky bastard, Wooyoung finds himself thinking. Not that he isn’t grateful that Yeosang’s vampirism was a choice, he is, but he would have liked to have been given that same choice. Yeosang looks at him strangely, repeats the first word and Wooyoung blinks, confused. Huh?

Did he say that out loud?

“What do you mean, lucky?” Oh, he absolutely said it out loud. “Jung Wooyoung? What. Do. You. Mean.” Yeosang frowns, leaning in closer like he’s trying to summon the answer through the power of eye contact alone. So Wooyoung smiles, a new set of sharp fangs poking past his lips.

“…surprise?”

Y/n’s not expecting any surprises by late afternoon, especially after the last few nights he’s been having. So, he nearly jumps out of his skin when the doors to A Bite for Tea all but fly open, Wooyoung stumbling inside as he’s pulled inside by another person—a friend?—until he’s made to sit at one of the tables. It almost looks like his fledgeling’s been scolded; hands clasped on the table like a child after dropping their parent’s prized vase. The sight’s endearing, and Y/n almost laughs from where he’s standing behind the glass display case at the front, still plating the slices of banana bread that have finished cooling.

He straightens up as Wooyoung’s friend approaches the counter, looking around like a man on a mission until y/n gently clears his throat, the friend zeroing onto him with a precision that y/n recognises. A turned vampire, he has to be. Whether this is the same friend y/n remembers Wooyoung mentioned being so concerned about a while ago, he can’t tell.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Yes, uh— do you know who y/n is? I heard he owns this coffee shop, and I need to speak to him.” The friend asks, looking less agitated with each word. “If he’s not here, can you send a message?”

“No need to, you’re speaking to him.” Y/n replies, a brow raising as he watches Wooyoung’s friend’s expression shift. From surprise, to relief, to something he can only really describe as… stern. All in a matter of seconds, too. “What is it you need to say?”

Instead of an answer right there and then, y/n ends up following the man to the table and taking a seat, still utterly confused. Looking between the two sat opposite him, he catches Wooyoung muttering I tried to stop him I swear, still looking very much like a scolded child, and what this is all about becomes abundantly clear very quickly.

“…and it was already freezing outside, there was no way I was going to let him succumb to the blood loss as well. There really was no other choice, and I felt responsible. Wooyoung-ssi had called me, so I was determined to help.” Y/n says, rounding off his explanation of the events leading up to Wooyoung’s vampirism, a solemn sincerity hanging over his words. Recalling the night itself isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world, and the born vampire excuses himself to give Wooyoung and his friend—Yeosang, who is the friend y/n remembers hearing about—space to…discuss, process, or say whatever it is they need to say, judging by the silent verbal conversation he sees the two having.

“I’ll be back at the counter if you need anything.” And he tucks his chair in, heading to the front counter to get back to his role as A Bite for Tea’s owner.

Now, Wooyoung doesn’t need anything from his new Sire yet, or whatever Yeosang called y/n, but Wooyoung sticks around long after his friend leaves the coffee shop, instead keeping himself busy with his phone and the cat. In between looking through social media, watching the odd cooking video and stroking the cat’s fur as she passes by, the newly turned vampire ends up staying in the shop until closing, a new brand of curiosity springing forth within his subconscious.

The kind of curiosity that y/n can help him with.

“Hey, y/n-ssi,” he says, helping the older vampire stack up chairs while said vampire sweeps the floor. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do Sires and the vampires they turn have any kind of, I don’t know, relationship? Like a mentor and mentee kinda thing, or…?” Wooyoung doesn’t know what other kind of relationship he’s picturing when the question comes out of his mouth, or what he wants to picture either. So, he pauses his impromptu job of stacking chairs to turn to y/n, watching the cogs turn in the other man’s eyes.

“Well, as far as I know, it tends to just be different for everyone.” Y/n answers. It’s a satisfying enough answer for now, though knowing himself, Wooyoung’s fully aware he’ll be digging through that response for a clearer answer, something more defined he can fall back onto. “I was meaning to ask the last time you were here, but do you want me to go over some basic vampiric fundamentals someday? There are some things like the Coven, where to get blood and etcetera that’ll make life a lot easier for you.”

Huh. He hadn’t thought about that stuff yet.

“Why not?” Wooyoung replies, blasting through his vampiric speed to get the last of the chairs stacked up. “I’m pretty much always free, is there a time that suits you?”

It’s a back and forth, practically a negotiation when Wooyoung realises just how busy y/n actually is with these other responsibilities the older man apparently has. But eventually the date of his vampire classes is set for the next upcoming weekend, and Wooyoung gathers his things in order to head home.

“See you at the weekend!” He calls out as he leaves, y/n off somewhere in the coffee shop’s kitchen.

“It’s a date!” Y/n laughs, calling out in return.

…hopefully it will be.

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#illusionnet #member: wooyoung #genre: fluff #genre: angst #wordcount: 10-15k #rating: nc 17 #type: oneshot #author: armysantiny

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