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v3lv3ttt · 19 days ago

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In The Dark

𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝚅𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

↪ don't come at me for inaccuracies okay I haven't read the webtoon for Decelis academy so I'm making my own lmao also dont ask how many times this was rewritten i will cry this took me 4 days

↪ hayoon changes personalities for some reason idk don't ask me i love her anyway this is nawt proof read

↪ female reader, pale used meaning sick not white, sorta angsty w/ happy ending

↪ WC: 11k

(Full Name).

You stared at the nameplate on the door, dread blooming in your chest: room 207, your new dorm at Decelis Academy. The brass numbers were polished, almost gleaming in the late afternoon sun, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling they were glaring back at you.

A cold reminder that this was real. That you were here, starting over again.

Slowly, you stepped into the room, pulling your small suitcase behind you. It had a few things, some clothes, and old books in different languages—a neatly made bed tucked into the far corner. A modest desk, already slightly scratched from obvious years of use.

The closet door stood ajar, revealing a small dresser and a narrow hanging rod—enough space for someone who didn’t plan to stay long. You left the suitcase at the closet door, adjusting your gloves. They were tight against your skin, the fabric thin but necessary. Always necessary.

Sunlight seeped through the half-open curtains as the sun began to set, the sun's rays hitting your face, causing you to hiss in sudden pain. It felt like acid had been splashed on you. Instinctively, you grabbed the curtains and yanked them closed, your room going completely dark.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing a gloved hand to your face. The cool air against your burned skin offered some relief, but your heart still pounded. Stupid. You should’ve been more careful. You hadn’t noticed how low the sun had dipped and how it shone right through the window.

The door slammed open, an excited squeal came from behind you, and fast footsteps approached. You froze as two hands clamped down on your arms and spun you around, coming face-to-face with a girl. She was practically vibrating, dressed in a school uniform and low pigtails that bounced with each movement. Her enthusiasm made you physically recoil, which barely happened due to how tightly she was holding on to your arms.

“You must be the new girl! I’m Hayoon! I live across the hall. I was so excited when I heard someone new was moving in.” She spoke so fast you could barely understand her. “Though it's weird, it's the middle of the year, but who cares! We’re gonna be best friends, I can feel it!”

You stared wide-eyed at the younger girl who kept animatedly chatting and bouncing in her shoes. “Um.. can you let go?”

Her eyes became wide, and she let go immediately, “I’m sorry! I get overly excited sometimes. I’m just excited you're finally here. I’ve been waiting all day.” She laughed, embarrassed, a red flush taking over her face.

You stepped back, putting space between the two of you. Hayoon stared at you silently, her eyes scanning your face. Nervously, you adjusted your gloves out of habit as her eyes took in every detail of your face.

“Whoa…” she whispered, awe creeping into her voice. “You’re… like… really pretty. Like a porcelain doll.”

“... thanks?” you replied slowly. That was a first. You had never been compared to a doll before.

“Where’d you move from? We don’t usually get new students in the middle of the year. Did something happen? Are you, like, running away from something? Ooh, are you hiding a big secret? Wait... if you were, you probably wouldn’t tell me…”

You hesitated, thinking how to answer her without giving anything away. “Just a small town… really small. You wouldn’t know it.” She nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I can manage myself.”

“Aww, I wouldn’t mind, really! It’d be fun, we could-”

“I said no.” Your tone was sharper this time, cutting her off. A pout began forming on her lips, “I’d prefer to be left alone now.”

“But—”

“Leave,” you said, voice cold.

Hayoon’s eyes widened, looking like she might cry. Without a word, she nodded and slipped out the door, quietly shutting it behind her. The room fell silent again. You had a feeling that was not the last time you would see Hayoon.

And it wasn’t.

The next morning, she was waiting outside your door.

“Good morning!” she chirped, clearly unbothered by yesterday’s events. “I thought we could walk together.”

You stared at her blankly, ignoring her as you turned and began walking away. But she followed you anyway, happily chatting about her classes she hated and school rumors. Information you did not care to listen to, let alone even remember.

Eventually, she had to head off to her classes, which were down a different hall since she was a grade below you. Before skipping off, she cheerfully announced that she’d catch up with you after class. You hoped not, and that she would finally take the hint that you wanted nothing to do with her.

Class passed in a blur. You didn’t bother making eye contact with anyone. Didn’t speak unless called on. Nobody tried talking to you; instead, they stared, intrigued by a new kid in the middle of the semester.

But when you stepped out of the classroom doors, Hayoon was waiting for you again, this time she was not alone.

She waved excitedly, grabbing your hand and dragging you toward three boys who stood casually leaning against a wall. “Y/Nie! Come meet my older brother and his friends!”

Your brow twitched in mild irritation. Y/Nie?

“This is Jay,” she said proudly, gesturing to a tall boy with a quiet demeanor. “He's my older brother. And this is Jungwon,” she continued, pointing at a slightly shorter boy with cat-like features and dyed blonde hair. He nodded at you, expression unreadable. A sharp pang hit your chest. “And this,” she gestured to the last boy with sleek black hair, “is Sunoo.” He gave you a lopsided grin and waved.

You glanced over the three boys, ignoring how intensely Jungwon was staring at you and how your chest hurt.

“Hayoon,” Jay said, his voice calm but with a hint of warning. “Did you ask if she wanted to meet us before dragging her over?”

Hayoon blinked. “Well… no. But-”

“No, I don’t. Let me go, now.” Her eyes went wide again, and the energy around her faltered.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, letting go of your hand.

You turned to leave, ignoring the awkward silence that followed. You could feel the weight of their stares on your back as you left. The hallway felt never-ending as you tried to find a calm spot with no one else around. Your mind kept replaying the scene with Hayoon. That sudden, unwelcome rush of people. Her excited face. The boys - especially Jungwon with his unreadable expression and the feeling of pain in your chest. They all looked at you like you were something unfamiliar, almost like they already knew what you were.

I don’t belong here.

You could already tell Hayoon wasn’t going to give up easily. There was something about her. A relentless optimism that could wear you down if you weren’t careful. You would need to keep your distance from her moving forward.

Eventually, you found the library. It was quieter here, a small island of peace in the otherwise bustling school. The air smelled of aged paper and dust, muffled footsteps echoing on thick carpeting. Rows of towering shelves stretched endlessly in all directions.

You wandered until you found an empty study room near the back. The light inside blinked every so often. Still, it was quiet. Safe.

You sank into the worn leather chair and pulled out the book you'd started the night before. But the words didn’t seem to make sense anymore. The familiar language on the pages blurred as your mind wandered. Your fingers tightened around the spine of the book, and a strange chill crawled up your spine.

Your mind kept drifting. The lines blurred, their meanings slipping through your grasp like fog. You tightened your gloved fingers around the book’s spine, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. A chill crept up your arms, unprovoked, thin and sharp like a breeze that shouldn’t exist in this sealed, silent space.

Then you could hear footsteps faintly.

Light. Careful. Still too loud in a place like this.

You stiffened as the door creaked from being pushed open.

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Hey.”

You closed the book, looking at the younger girl. Hayoon had appeared in front of you, her usual energetic smile faltering as she saw the look on your face. She sat down beside you without asking, the space between you feeling suddenly too small. You wanted to get up and move away. Strangely, you didn’t.

“I’m not here to bother you,” she added, eyes flickering to your book. “I promise. I just… I like the library, too. It’s quiet. Feels like you can actually hear yourself think in here.”

You stared at her, wondering again why she kept showing up. Why she wasn’t afraid of you? Why didn’t she flinch at your coldness, your warning tone, your guarded distance?

"I just… wanted to apologize," she said, twisting her hands in her lap, the cheerfulness replaced by a more subdued tone. "I know I kind of, um, rushed things yesterday... and today, too. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you just stared at the table, trying to decide whether it was worth responding.

Hayoon waited, her gaze fixed on her hands. For once, she wasn’t talking. The silence between you wasn’t hostile, just uncertain.

“…You’re persistent,” you finally said, voice low. Your gloved fingers brushed over the rough edges of your book cover.

Hayoon looked up, hope flickering in her eyes. “I get that a lot,” she smiled, small, shy, but real. “My brother says I don’t know how to give up. Or shut up.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“I won’t talk if you don’t want me to,” she said quietly, taking out her notebook and flipping it open. “You can read. I’ll just sit here to keep you some company.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence. Just the soft scratch of her pencil, and the pages of your book as you tried to focus again. You didn’t feel cornered this time.

Strangely… you didn’t even feel annoyed, but you still didn’t trust her.

After a few minutes of silence, Hayoon looked at you more directly. Her voice was softer. “You’re not like the others here.”

You didn’t answer.

She hesitated. “That’s not a bad thing.”

Your gaze flicked to her, sharp. “You don’t know what I am.”

Hayoon blinked, clearly surprised at the wording. “You’re right. I don’t. But you don’t seem… bad. Just lonely.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Lonely, huh.”

Hayoon nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I can tell.”

She tapped the end of her pencil against her notebook and gave a small shrug. “It’s not hard to notice when you’ve felt it, too.”

You stared at her, the bitterness still lingering on your tongue. “What would you know about being lonely?”

Hayoon didn’t flinch. She simply looked at you, quiet, grounded, and honest.

“A lot more than I let people think,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.

The overhead light buzzed faintly and flickered once before steadying. You frowned, not at the light, but at the odd tension pressing in behind your eyes. The familiar anxiety of getting too close to someone setting in. That feeling of being too aware of your surroundings. Like something inside you was stretching, stirring just beneath the surface.

Hayoon didn’t notice. She had gone back to scribbling in her notebook, her pencil scratching softly against the paper.

Your pulse quickened.

Then, again, that sensation. Not a sound, not a voice - just a thought, sudden and intrusive, like a warning bubbling up from inside your own head.

I shouldn’t be here.

Not the school. Not the library. Not with Hayoon. Not here pretending to be normal.

Your chest tightened, and it became hard to breathe.

“Y/N?” Hayoon’s voice broke through the tension. You looked up, startled by how loud your own thoughts had become. She was watching you now, eyes wide. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

You forced a nod, even as your fingers trembled slightly on the edge of the book. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… tired.”

You stood up quickly, the chair screeching across the floor. Hayoon jumped.

“Huh-?”

“I need to go.” You grabbed the book, cradling it close.

She started to rise. “Wait, don’t-”

But you were already at the door, pushing it open and stepping out into the empty library. The air felt heavier here, the scent of old paper sharp against your nose. It felt less suffocating than the study room.

You kept moving until the rows of shelves fell behind you, replaced by soft conversations and the rustle of students passing by. The weight in your chest didn’t disappear, but it dulled. You rounded a corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Whoa.” Jungwon stepped back, steadying himself. His hand had instinctively come up to your shoulder, but dropped the moment he got a good look at your face. “Hey…”

You froze. His dark eyes flicked between your face, your clenched jaw, and the book clutched tightly to your chest.

He glanced past you into the library, where Hayoon stood looking confused and worried.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, voice low.

“Fine,” you replied stiffly, “I didn’t mean to scare her.” You tried to brush past him, but Jungwon shifted slightly, just enough to keep you from rushing out. You inhaled sharply through your nose in irritation. His scent was warm and vibrant, hitting your nose. Your stomach twisted at the scent. He smelled delicious.

“Scare who?” His voice broke you from your hungry thoughts.

You met his eyes. The sheer calm in them was infuriating.

“It’s just been a long day.” You glared slightly at the boy.

“Y/N!” Hayoon’s voice called faintly from the library door. “You don’t have to leave-” She caught up to you and Jungwon, standing beside you. “I just didn’t know if something was wrong.”

You glanced at her. She meant well. They both did. But kindness like theirs could be dangerous for them and you.

Jungwon noticed the way your grip tightened on the book and nodded toward it. “That from class?”

You shook your head. “No. Just something old. Family stuff.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Are you heading out?”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah. I just need air.”

He nodded, stepping aside, finally letting you pass.

I shouldn’t be here.

The familiar feeling crawled up your spine.

I don’t belong here.

“I’ll see you later?” Jungwon asked, slightly tilting his head.

“No,” you said quietly.

Jungwon’s brows furrowed slightly. “Why not?”

You didn’t turn around. “Because it’s better that way.”

Then you left. Not in a rush, but deliberately. You felt his gaze on your back. You felt Hayoon’s confusion. Their concern. It clung to you like smoke.

But you didn’t stop.

Because you couldn’t afford to let them close.

Because you were hungry and you'd gone too long pretending you weren’t.

You didn’t stop walking. Your grip on the book was almost bruising now. Finally, you reached your room—207. The door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it, exhaling shakily. You could still feel them. Their eyes. Their confusion. Their care.

It was unbearable.

You dropped the book on the desk, pulled off your gloves with shaking hands, and pressed your bare palms to the edge of the wooden surface. Your reflection in the small mirror across the room stared back at you—colorless, strained. Your eyes had darkened again. Not from tiredness but from hunger.

You clenched your jaw, turning away from the mirror and pulling the curtains tighter. Just in case.

You couldn’t afford to slip. Not here. Not when someone like Jungwon was already paying too much attention.

And Hayoon… She was too kind. Too trusting. You couldn’t let her be the next person to find out what you were. Because if she did—if anyone did—

They wouldn’t see you as lonely. They’d see you as a monster.

Hayoon stood frozen just outside the study room. She stared after the hallway where you’d disappeared, a crease between her brows.

“She doesn’t want anyone close,” she murmured.

Jungwon watched too, lips pressed into a thin line. “She didn’t look okay.”

“She never does,” Hayoon said softly. “That’s the thing. She always looks like she’s barely holding something in.”

He looked down at the ground, thoughtful.

“She said it was just family stuff,” he offered, but it didn’t sound like he believed it.

Hayoon shook her head. “No… It’s more than that. It’s like—” She hesitated, then added, “—like she’s afraid she’ll hurt someone.”

Jungwon’s eyes flicked to her, surprised. “You think she would?”

“I don’t know,” Hayoon whispered. “She’s pushing everyone away.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “And I think she’s doing it to protect us.”

Hayoon turned, eyes searching his face. “What are you going to do?”

Jungwon hesitated. Then shrugged lightly. “Probably exactly what she doesn’t want.”

Hayoon’s smile was faint. “Keep trying?”

Jungwon didn’t answer, but the way his eyes lingered on the corner you’d disappeared around said enough.

You sat in the dark.

Not reading. Not moving. Just breathing through the hunger clawing its way up your throat.

You can’t remember the last time you had a proper meal.. Long enough for the headaches to start, for the shadows in your vision to move when they shouldn’t, for every heartbeat around you to sound like a drum. Every scent around you felt intoxicating, the blood in their veins screaming your name.

You bit your tongue hard enough to taste blood—your own, cold and bitter. Not what you needed. Not what you craved.

It would be so easy.

The thought slipped in like a blade between ribs.

Hayoon. So warm. So trusting.

If you leaned close, if you whispered something kind, she wouldn’t even flinch.

She’d follow you.

You slammed your hand against the desk to stop the thought. The noise echoed through the tiny room.

No.

You forced it away. Every breath was a reminder that you were pretending.

Pretending to be human. Pretending to belong.

But someone was watching too closely now.

Jungwon.

He wasn’t like the others. Quiet, observant. His eyes followed you, not with suspicion, but with… recognition. Like he saw something familiar in you. Like he was trying to connect dots no one else could even see.

That made him dangerous. You couldn’t afford to let him get closer. But deep down, a part of you didn’t want to push him away. And that scared you more than anything else.

The halls were mostly empty this early. Pale sunlight stretched across the floor, filtered through thick curtains.

Jungwon leaned against a pillar outside the dorms, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes, waiting.

Waiting for you.

Jay had told him not to push. That if someone wanted space, you give them space. But something about you didn’t feel like space was the answer. It felt like you were drowning quietly, and no one had noticed yet.

So when he saw the faintest shape moving behind the glass doors of the dorm building, he straightened up.

And then you walked out. Gloves on. Eyes hollow.

The cold morning air bit at your skin as you stepped outside, despite the layers you wore. The sky was cloudy, no sun in sight, and possible rain later in the day. The only time you could truly be outside, yet you kept your gloves on.

You hadn’t meant to run into him again. But of course, he was there.

Leaning casually against the stone column outside the dorms, arms crossed, backpack slung over one shoulder. The wind tousled his already-unkempt hair, and his uniform blazer hung open, undone and effortless. He looked like he always belonged—like someone who had never once questioned whether he deserved to stand in the light. Your steps faltered.

You could feel it again—his eyes. Not judgmental. Not curious. Just… quiet. Watching. Trying to understand. And that made you uncomfortable in a way you hated. Not because it was invasive. Because it made something inside you ache.

You kept walking. Not fast. But not slow enough to invite conversation.

Jungwon stepped in beside you anyway.

“Y/N,” he said simply, voice low enough to stay between you.

The bags beneath your eyes looked darker today. Almost bruised. “You look worse than yesterday,” he said gently.

You didn’t respond. Didn’t look at him either.

“I figured you’d want to be left alone,” he continued. “But I also figured… sometimes that’s not what people need.”

You finally met his gaze.

“You think you know me?” you asked, your voice quiet but sharper than before.

Jungwon shrugged, not flinching. “No. But I think I want to.” You blinked. That wasn’t the answer you expected.

You could feel your heart beating faster, not from fear, but from the way his words struck something deep inside you—something still soft, still breakable. You hated that.

“You don’t,” you said coldly. “And trust me, you don’t want to.”

He studied you for a beat longer, like he was looking through the cracks you hadn’t fully patched up yet.

Then his voice dropped. “Maybe. But I think Hayoon was right.”

You frowned. “About what?”

He offered a small, almost sad smile. “You don’t seem bad. Just lonely.”

Your chest twisted. That word again. Lonely.

You swallowed hard. “You should stay away from me.”

“Why?” he asked simply.

You didn’t have an answer you could give him. Not one that wouldn’t sound like a threat. Not one that wouldn’t taste like blood.

So you just said, “Because it’s safer.”

And this time, you did walk away.

But Jungwon didn’t move either. He just watched you go, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

Like he wasn’t giving up on you.

Not yet.

Jungwon stayed rooted in place long after you disappeared down the stone path, your shoulders hunched slightly beneath your coat, head low like the weight of something invisible was pressing down harder than gravity. He didn’t chase you. Didn’t call out. But his gaze didn’t leave until you were completely out of sight.

The silence returned. Birds stirring in the distance. The rustle of dry leaves blowing across the courtyard tiles.

He finally exhaled.

You had said it was safer if he stayed away.

But safer for whom?

Your shoes crunched softly against the gravel as you walked, each step heavier than the last. The ache in your chest hadn't dulled. It never really did anymore.

Lonely.

That word again.

You didn’t know how he said it like that—so casually, yet without pity. Like he wasn’t afraid of what it meant. Like it was something you could just name and not shatter from.

You hated that he might’ve been right.

You hated more than it mattered.

Because Jungwon was the kind of person who noticed things no one else bothered to. The way your hands always stayed covered. How you never ate with anyone. How you flinched, just slightly, when someone got too close.

And now he was watching the one thing you’d built so carefully—your distance—start to fracture.

You’d felt it in the way his eyes lingered, not with suspicion, but with… understanding. Or at least the desire to understand.

And that was so much worse.

Later that day, Jungwon found himself wandering the second-floor hallway near the library. He told himself he wasn’t looking for you. He was lying.

He paused when he caught a familiar silhouette at the far end of the corridor, sitting alone on the bench.

You.

Gloves still on. Knees pulled up slightly. A book open in your lap, but your eyes weren’t moving over the words. They were distant.

Jungwon stayed still for a second. He thought of Jay’s voice again—Don’t push it, you’ll just scare her off. But he also remembered your expression earlier that morning. The way your voice cracked just slightly when you said it was safer.

He didn’t announce himself this time. Just walked slowly to the bench and sat beside you, keeping a respectful space between.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you wasn’t tense this time. Just… there.

Then, you finally spoke.

“You always follow people around like this?”

Jungwon tilted his head, looking at the window instead of you. “Only the ones who look like they’re disappearing.”

You studied his face—the soft curve of his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, the way his eyes stayed on you even when you tried to stare him down. He wasn’t afraid. That bothered you. Or maybe it didn’t. You weren’t sure.

Jungwon leaned back on the bench slightly, his hands tucked into his blazer pockets. “Hayoon’s worried about you.”

That name made your chest tighten. “She always is.”

“She also kind of hates me.”

You let out a quiet breath. Not quite a laugh, but not not one either. “She doesn’t hate you. She just thinks you’re reckless.”

“And you?” he asked, glancing sideways. “What do you think?”

You were quiet. Then you said, “I think… You should’ve left me alone.”

“But I didn’t.”

You looked at him again. He was close enough to hear your breathing, close enough for you to notice the faint freckle near his collarbone, just under the fold of his uniform. Close enough that the cold wall you kept between yourself and everyone else began to crack.

“You still can,” you said, but softer now. Not as cold. More like a warning. Or maybe a plea.

Jungwon shook his head. “I don’t want to.”

You exhaled slowly, the way you did when trying to calm the hunger down. It stirred sometimes around him, but not violently. Not like it usually did. With him, it quieted. Listened.

“You don’t even know what I am,” you whispered.

He turned to you fully this time. “Then tell me.”

The words stopped in your throat. No one had ever asked that and meant it. Not even Hayoon. Not really. Everyone just danced around it, pretending that the darkness wasn’t pressing against your skin from the inside out.

You stared at Jungwon, searching his eyes for fear. But there wasn’t any. Just… this frustrating, unwavering steadiness. As if nothing you said could shake him.

As if he’d already decided to stay.

You looked down again. “I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s okay,” he said. And when he stood, his voice was quiet but sure. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could only listen to the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway until he disappeared around the corner like a promise you weren’t sure you deserved.

But the warmth of his presence lingered.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel like drowning. Just breathing.

The dorm was silent. Even the wind outside had died down, leaving only the faint ticking of the old wall clock and the occasional creak of settling wood.

You sat curled in the farthest corner of your bed, knees hugged to your chest, your blanket draped over you like a shroud. The gloves were still on.

They always were.

The air was cold. Or maybe that was just you.

You stared at the wall, but you weren’t seeing it. Not really.

Your thoughts were tangled, twisted around him again—Jungwon.

How he had sat beside you this morning without saying a word. How his voice was never demanding, never loud. How he looked at you like you were a mystery worth being patient for, not something broken.

And worse—how that made something ache in you. Something more dangerous than hunger.

You pressed your gloved hand to your mouth.

It wasn’t just that he was kind. It wasn’t just that he noticed things others ignored. It was the way he made you want to be seen.

And that was terrifying.

Because caring about him meant letting your walls crack. And letting your walls crack meant risk. Risk of him getting too close. Risk of you hurting him.

You swallowed hard and shut your eyes.

And still… still, the thought of his voice—calm, steady—lingered like warmth on your skin.

"You look worse than yesterday."

"But I think I want to know you."

You buried your face in your knees, trying to breathe past the tightness in your chest.

You didn’t get to want things like that.

You didn’t get to let your heart beat faster when he smiled at you.

Because you weren’t safe.

Not for him. Not for anyone.

The hunger inside you wasn’t just a metaphor. It was real. It was sharp. It was growing. And no amount of blankets, locked doors, or distance was going to be enough if you lost control again.

You’d seen what you could become.

And the terrifying part?

You were starting to think his heartbeat sounded beautiful.

You clenched your fists inside your gloves and whispered, “Stay away from me, Jungwon.”

But even as you said it, part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

A knock broke the silence.

You froze.

Another knock—softer this time.

You stood slowly and opened the door just a crack.

“Hey.” Hayoon’s voice was light, but her expression was careful. “You didn’t come down earlier. Figured you were either dead or sulking.”

“…Or both,” you muttered.

She gave you a small grin and held up a plastic container. “I brought snacks. I made these terrible rice balls, and I need someone to suffer with me.”

You stared for a second. Then opened the door.

The common lounge was mostly empty, the rest of the students either in their rooms or off-campus for the weekend. A single lamp cast a gold glow across the beanbags and mismatched couches. Someone had left popcorn on the table, long since gone cold. The hum of an old movie played from Hayoon’s laptop, half-forgotten as the two of you sat cross-legged on the rug.

It felt normal. Almost.

You sat on the floor, legs crossed, while Hayoon dramatically gagged over her own cooking.

“I swear, I followed the recipe!” she said, holding up one of the rice balls like it personally betrayed her. “It’s the seaweed’s fault. It’s always the seaweed.”

You let out a breath—not quite a laugh, but closer than anything you’d managed all day. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re lying to me, but I’ll allow it,” she said, plopping down beside you. She nudged your shoulder lightly. “You’ve been weird lately.”

You offered a faint smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Hayoon studied you for a beat longer but didn’t press. “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

You shrugged. “Guess I don’t sleep well.”

“Nightmares?” she asked gently.

You hesitated. “Something like that.”

Hayoon reached over and nudged your shoulder with hers. “You don’t have to say everything. But I’m here. Just so you know.”

That made something in your chest twist. “Thanks.”

She smiled. “Also—don’t take this the wrong way—but you really need to eat more. I’m pretty sure your wrist is the same width as this highlighter.”

You snorted, genuinely amused. “I’ll work on it.”

A beat passed. On screen, the characters were laughing. It sounded too loud all of a sudden. Too alive.

Then, Hayoon cursed softly and jerked her hand back.

You turned sharply.

She had cut her finger on the edge of a chip bag. A shallow nick, but enough to draw blood.

Red.

Your entire body stiffened.

It hit you fast. The scent. The warmth. That awful pull inside you—sharp and instinctual, worse than hunger, worse than thirst. Your pupils dilated without your permission.

You sucked in a breath and looked away, your gloved hand clutching the blanket with bone-white knuckles.

“You okay?” Hayoon asked, frowning. “Y/N?”

“—I need to go,” you whispered.

You stood too quickly, heart hammering, mouth dry, and teeth aching.

Hayoon blinked in surprise. “What? Did I do something—?”

“No,” you said too fast. “I just… forgot something.”

And you were gone.

Gone before she could stop you. Gone before she could see the way your eyes had flickered—briefly, terribly—not human.

But Hayoon didn’t sit back down.

She looked at the tiny cut on her finger. Then toward the hallway you’d disappeared down.

And for the first time… she didn’t feel confused.

She felt worried.

And maybe—deep down—she was starting to understand.

Hayoon couldn’t sleep. Not because of homework. Not even because of your strange behavior earlier. She just had this feeling. Like something was tightening under the skin of her world—and you were at the center of it.

The signs had been there for a while. The gloves you never took off, even in warm classrooms. The way you avoided sunlight. Your constant fatigue, the way you disappeared during meals. And that moment in lab last week—when Sunoo cut his finger with a scalpel and you flinched, hard, like it physically hurt to be near.

Hayoon had brushed it all off before. Had told herself there were probably a dozen normal reasons. But lately… something about you had shifted. You weren’t just distant. You were unraveling.

So when she saw your light flick off just past midnight, she got up. Quietly. Carefully. She padded down the hallway in socks, heart thudding with something she couldn’t name. Guilt? Fear? Something close to both.

She hadn’t meant to spy. She really hadn’t.

All she wanted to do was leave a bracelet—just a dumb thing she’d made during club time. Woven thread in your favorite colors. Something to say I’m still here, even if you don’t say anything. Something to remind you you weren’t alone.

But when she reached your door, the knob turned under her hand.

It wasn’t locked. Where could you be at this hour? It was way past hours, and everyone was required to be in their dorms. Against her better judgment, Hayoon slowly began to wander the halls in search of you.

As she passed the faculty restroom—always locked, always unused—she heard it.

Gagging.

Wet, strained breathing. The clatter of something breaking against porcelain. She hesitated, unsure. But the sound—desperate, painful—made her move. She knocked.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

Silence.

And then a low, almost inhuman voice.

“Go away, Hayoon.”

Y/N.

Hayoon’s stomach twisted. “Y/N, it’s me. What happened? Are you—”

“Please,” your voice broke. “Just go.”

Something about the way you said it made her ignore every warning bell. She picked the lock with a hairpin from her braid. Click. The door creaked open slowly.

What she saw stopped her cold.

You were curled over the sink. Blood smeared at the corner of your mouth, eyes glassy and wild. Your gloves were off—your hands trembling as they gripped the basin, nails digging into the ceramic.

And your fangs—clear, unmistakable—were still bared.

The empty IV bag near the trash was torn open. Stolen from the infirmary. Hayoon’s eyes locked onto it.

For a second, neither of you moved. Then you looked at her. And the horror in your expression shattered her heart.

“You… weren’t supposed to see this,” you whispered, voice hoarse and cracked. “I didn’t want—I never wanted—”

“Y/N…” Her voice came out too soft. “You’re… you’re a vampire?”

You nodded slowly, shame pooling behind your eyes like stormwater.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I swear.”

Hayoon stepped forward without thinking.

“You’re bleeding,” she said quietly, grabbing a towel and holding it out, even though her hands shook. “And you look like you’re about to pass out.”

You stared at her. Waiting. For fear. For rejection. For screaming.

But it didn’t come.

She didn’t run.

“I’ve been suspicious for a while,” she admitted, kneeling beside you as you slowly slid down to sit on the tile floor. “But... this isn’t what I expected.”

You laughed—dry, empty.

“I’m a monster.”

“No,” she said fiercely. “You’re my best friend. And whatever this is… We’ll figure it out.”

Hayoon sat beside you. Then she did something that made your knees nearly give. She picked up your gloves and pressed them gently into your hands.

“I think… I’ve always known something was different,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re alone in it.”

Your chest tightened so hard it hurt.

“Why aren’t you running?” you whispered.

Hayoon just looked at you—fierce, heart full. “Because monsters don’t cry when they think their friends are going to leave.”

You couldn't look at her—not for more than a second. Not with the shame clawing through your throat like barbed wire. You pulled the gloves back over your shaking hands, hiding what you could, even though it was far too late for hiding.

Hayoon just sat there, cross-legged on the tile like it was the most normal thing in the world. Her braid was falling loose. Her eyes didn’t look afraid. They looked… heartbroken.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” you mumbled, voice rough.

She tilted her head. “So you were going to tell me eventually?”

You hesitated. “I… I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “that’s kind of what I figured.”

The room still smelled faintly of blood. Your hands curled into fists inside your gloves. You couldn’t stop shaking, even though you weren’t cold.

Hayoon reached for the IV bag near the trash but stopped herself. “So… that’s what you drink?”

“Only when I’ve have to,” you said. “It’s leftover donor blood from the infirmary. They don’t really check the dates. It’s expired. Useless to everyone else.”

She blinked slowly. “You’ve been surviving off expired blood bags this whole time?”

You shook your head. “No. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually drank anything.”

“So you’ve been starving this entire time?” Her voice cracked. “Jesus.”

You flinched at the sympathy. It hurt worse than disgust would have. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Hayoon met your eyes, dead serious. “I’m not telling a soul. I swear on every embarrassing diary I’ve ever written.”

A weak laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

Hayoon’s smile was sad but real. “So, is this why you’ve been avoiding Jungwon, too?”

Your face dropped.

She smirked faintly, even as her eyes searched your face. “You don’t think I’ve noticed? The way you look at him like he’s the sun and you're not supposed to burn.”

“I can’t… I can’t be around him,” you whispered. “Not like this. It’s dangerous.”

Hayoon didn’t speak for a long time. Then she looked at you again—softer this time. “You care about him.”

You said nothing.

“And he definitely cares about you.”

Your head dropped forward, resting against your knees. “That’s the problem.”

Hayoon let out a breath through her nose and stood slowly. Then, to your surprise, she extended her hand toward you again. Not to fix anything. Not to pull you up. Just to be there.

“I can’t tell you what to do about Jungwon,” she said gently. “But I know you. And you’re not a monster. You’re scared. You’re starving. And you’re trying harder than anyone I’ve ever met.”

You stared at her outstretched hand. And after a few seconds, you took it.

For once, the silence between you wasn’t heavy with fear or secrets.

It just was.

The library was quiet. Dust floated like stars in the evening light slipping in through the stained glass windows.

You sat cross-legged on the floor between the stacks with Hayoon, a half-finished history worksheet splayed out between you. Your gloves were still on, but your jacket was off for once, and your hair was down. You were starting to breathe easier around her again. Maybe it was the way she didn’t flinch anymore. Maybe it was because she knew and still stayed.

Hayoon nudged your ankle with her knee. “You spelled 'Ming Dynasty' wrong again.”

You glanced at the paper and let out a quiet sigh. “Do I look like I’ve had the luxury of focusing in class lately?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fair.”

You scribbled a correction while she fidgeted with the threads of the bracelet on her wrist—the one you’d returned to her a few nights ago, quietly knotted around her doorknob with a single word folded into the braid: Thank you.

Hayoon leaned her chin into her palm and stared at you for a beat. “You seem... better today.”

You didn’t answer right away. But eventually, you nodded. “A little.”

“Still staying away from him?”

The words made your stomach twist. You didn’t need to ask who. “It’s safer.”

“For him, or for you?” she asked.

You looked up at her. “Both.”

Before she could reply, the creak of old wood echoed near the front of the library. Footsteps. Calm. Familiar.

You froze.

Then his voice. “You two always study in the shadows like this?”

Jungwon.

He was already walking down the aisle between shelves before either of you could respond. A crooked half-smile on his face, but something softer in his eyes. His uniform jacket was unbuttoned, tie loose like he’d just come from training. His hair slightly messy.

You felt your pulse stutter. And you hated how much warmth his presence stirred in your chest.

Hayoon glanced between you and him with raised eyebrows, clearly suppressing a smirk. “Did you follow us here?”

Jungwon shrugged, gaze flickering from her to you. “I came to find a book. Didn’t know you two had taken up residence in the back corner of the map section.”

Hayoon rolled her eyes but stood, stretching with an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I need to return something up front. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

You shot her a look. She just grinned and vanished around the shelf, leaving you alone with him.

Jungwon’s gaze didn’t waver. He came closer but stopped at a respectful distance away, crouching beside your pile of books. “You’ve been avoiding me again.”

You looked down at your gloved hands in your lap. “I’ve been busy.”

“Y/N.” His voice was softer now. “Don’t lie to me. ”

The words wrapped around something inside you—tight and vulnerable.

“I’m not good for you, Jungwon.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said, voice low.

You looked up then, really looked. And there was that same gentleness in his eyes. That same maddening patience.

It scared you more than anything else.

Before you could speak, Hayoon’s voice rang out from the other end of the aisle. “I hope you’re not traumatizing her with your feelings, Jungwon.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

Hayoon popped back into view with a stack of new books. “Just saying. She’s emotionally fragile and might combust if you flirt too hard.”

You groaned, shoving a book over your face. “I hate both of you.”

Jungwon laughed—low, quiet—and for a second, you let yourself forget the hunger.

Forget the danger. Just for now.

He laughed softly, and your heart betrayed you again—jumping slightly at the sound. You turned back to your half-finished worksheet, trying to ignore the way his presence made the quiet corner feel warmer.

Jungwon shifted a little, then leaned against the side of the shelf. “Can I join you?”

You looked up, blinking. “You want to help us study?”

“Technically,” he said, crossing his arms, “I just don’t feel like sitting alone. But if you need someone to pretend to care about historical trade routes, I can fake it convincingly.”

Hayoon looked between you two again, something unreadable in her expression. But then she shrugged. “Sure. But you have to quiz her on all the dates I already tested her on. Fair warning—she’s not great with numbers, only foreign languages.”

You gave her a flat look. “Betrayal. In front of my enemy.”

Jungwon grinned, pulling a thick textbook from the top of the pile and sitting cross-legged across from you. “I’m not your enemy.”

“That’s what enemies say.”

His gaze met yours over the rim of the book. “What if I said I’m on your side?”

Something in your chest cracked a little.

Hayoon cleared her throat. Loudly. “Help me with this paragraph, will you Y/N?”

You leaned over to the book she had opened in her lap, her finger pointing to a passage. “It says, ‘The die is cast. ’”

“You translated that really fast.”

You blinked. “What?”

He nodded toward the textbook between you. “That Latin passage. You barely looked at it before translating it to Hayoon.”

You tried to laugh it off. “Lucky guess?”

Jungwon tilted his head, unconvinced. “You did the same thing with the old French last week. And that weird Greek root in bio. Do you… just know a lot of languages or something?”

Your pencil stilled in your hand.

Hayoon, sensing your sudden hesitation, nudged your knee with her foot—subtle, but grounding. You exhaled.

“A few,” you admitted, voice a little too quiet. “My family… moved around a lot.”

Jungwon raised his eyebrows slightly. “Like military?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly.” You kept your eyes on the page, not really seeing the words anymore. “Just… a lot of different places. Old places. I picked things up.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. Just not the full truth.

Hayoon stepped in smoothly. “She’s basically a language sponge. I once caught her reading a Greek Mythology—in Greek— for fun.”

You shot her a grateful glance.

Jungwon still looked curious, but the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. “That’s kind of amazing.”

You shrugged, half-embarrassed. “It’s not that impressive.”

“It is to me,” he said simply.

You froze.

His words were so soft, so earnest, you didn’t know what to do with them. You felt the old ache in your chest again—the one that warned you to pull away, to disappear before it got too close. Before he got too close.

You forced a small smile. “I’m just good with dead things.”

“Languages, I mean,” you added quickly, but your voice cracked just slightly on the word dead.

Jungwon didn’t say anything right away.

Then he set his book down gently and leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, voice quiet.

“I don’t think there’s anything dead about the way you talk when you care about something.”

You looked at him—and for a second, the world tilted sideways.

Then Hayoon dropped a book too loudly onto the table and made a point of clearing her throat again.

“Alright, scholars. Back to the study session before I file for emotional overtime.”

The spell broke.

But your heart didn’t stop racing.

Once again, during a late afternoon, you and Hayoon settled in at your usual spot in the library—an old, worn table tucked away between towering bookshelves. The librarian had moved a small table over after noticing how often you and Hayoon sat back there. Hayoon was animatedly sketching in her notebook while you flipped through a worn Chinese novel, the two of you finally finding a quiet moment to just.

That’s when Jungwon appeared, as if summoned by some invisible thread.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the empty chair beside you without waiting for an invitation.

Hayoon blinked, her pencil pausing mid-sketch. “Again?” she mouthed to you, eyes narrowing slightly.

You shrugged quietly, too used to his unexpected appearances to react.

Jungwon didn’t seem to notice the tension. “Mind if I join?” he asked, looking between you and Hayoon.

Hayoon’s eyes flicked toward him, then back at you, silently pleading.

“Sure,” you said, forcing a small smile.

Jungwon settled in, pulling out his own book but clearly more interested in the conversation than the pages.

Minutes passed. Then half an hour. Then another unexpected visit a few days later—this time during your lunch hour with Hayoon, Jungwon casually leaning against the wall as if he belonged.

Hayoon’s patience was thinning.

Later, as Jungwon excused himself to get a drink, Hayoon leaned in, lowering her voice.

“He’s like a shadow,” she muttered, irritation flickering in her eyes. “Every time we get some space, he just... pops up.”

You glanced at the door Jungwon had just exited. “He means well,” you said softly.

“Maybe,” Hayoon sighed. “But I swear, if he doesn’t give us a break soon, I’m going to start charging rent for all the ‘visits.’”

You chuckled, grateful for her lightheartedness despite the underlying frustration.

Sometimes, you thought, even the kindest people didn’t know when to back off.

The three of you had found yourselves near the edge of the school courtyard, where the stone paths twisted between the trees, leading toward the old greenhouse. It wasn’t a spot students usually loitered in—overgrown, half-forgotten—but Hayoon had insisted on coming here today, claiming the sun was finally tolerable—warm but soft—and you needed fresh air more than anything. Still, you kept your umbrella open, a shield against even the faintest rays, even as you sat safely in the shade. Even if her eyes never stopped watching you too closely.

Jungwon had come along without being invited. He just... appeared. Like he always did lately. And somehow, you didn’t stop him.

The three of you sat in a triangle under the shade of an elm tree. Hayoon was flipping through her notes, Jungwon was tossing pebbles into the pond nearby, and you were doing your best not to think about the way your chest felt tight. The hunger had been manageable this week. Quiet. Sleeping.

Jungwon, as usual, had arrived unannounced, slipping into the circle you formed like a shadow settling naturally into a corner. You didn’t stop him. Somehow, you didn’t want to.

The three of you sat loosely in a triangle beneath the elm’s sprawling branches. Hayoon’s pencil scratched quietly on her notebook. Jungwon idly tossed small pebbles into the nearby pond, watching the ripples fade with a distracted smile. You sat stiffly, your fingers clutching the handle of your umbrella as your thoughts churned. Your chest felt tight — a dull ache you’d been trying to ignore all week. The hunger was quiet lately. Manageable. Almost asleep.

Until it wasn’t.

Jungwon stood and stretched.. His foot caught the edge of a loose stone hidden under the grass. He stumbled just slightly, barely enough to break his balance. His hand shot out to steady himself and scraped sharply against a jagged branch lying nearby.

A sharp hiss escaped him. A few droplets of blood bloomed against the pale skin of his palm.

The scent hit you instantly.

Your head snapped up. The sharp copper tang—so rich and alive—screaming your name.

Your throat burned. Your pulse thundered.

Before you even realized it, you were on your feet, pulled forward by something primal and unstoppable. The world around you blurred—wind turned to static, the rustling leaves faded to silence—as your senses sharpened to a painful clarity. All you could hear was the thrum of blood beneath his skin. Your body ached to reach out, to taste, to feed.

The umbrella slipped from your fingers and landed with a soft thud on the ground.

“Y/N—!” Hayoon’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and alarmed.

Jungwon turned to look, still near the branch, confusion flickering across his face. And then his eyes locked with yours.

The hunger screamed louder.

But beneath it, a different voice—calm, desperate—whispered, Stop.

Your fingers froze just inches from his wounded hand.

Your eyes widened as the fog lifted enough for you to realize what you almost did.

Terror blossomed across your face like wildfire.

Your hands trembled uncontrollably.

You stumbled back, your senses screaming in pain as your body finally realized it was in the sun. Every nerve was on fire.

Jungwon didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. He just stared, wide-eyed but steady.

Hayoon was already moving—rising from the grass and stepping quickly between you and him, her posture protective but gentle.

“Y/N,” she said carefully, voice low but firm. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just breathe—”

But you were already running.

Your shoes scraped harshly against the stone path as you fled, breath ragged, gloves clutched to your chest like a fragile shield. You didn’t dare look back. You didn’t want to hear their voices calling after you, didn’t want to face the fear and confusion you’d glimpsed in Jungwon’s eyes.

Because you had already seen it—clear and merciless—in your own reflection.

The door to your dorm clicked softly behind you, sealing you off from the world—and them. Outside, faint voices and footsteps echoed down the halls, but here inside, the silence was suffocating.

Days passed in a blur of restless nights and shadowed corners. You didn’t answer Hayoon or Jungwon. Their knocks went unanswered, their worried voices fading into distant memories. You hid beneath layers of fabric and darkness, gloves never far from your hands, a fragile shield against the chaos inside.

Because the hunger was no longer just a dull ache.

It had become a wildfire—roaring, burning, impossible to ignore.

Every time you thought of Jungwon—his calm gaze, the way he reached out when you faltered—the craving twisted tighter inside you. It wasn’t just blood you wanted. It was him. His warmth, his presence, the sharp pulse of life that called to something deep in you.

Your emotions and your hunger were tangled, feeding off each other like a vicious cycle.

You could feel it in every quiet moment: your heart pounding with something far more dangerous than just need. It was fear, too. Fear that the feelings you were trying to bury would drag you under.

You began to avoid mirrors, afraid to face the glowing eyes you knew were always watching, waiting beneath your skin. The memory of that moment—when your instincts nearly betrayed you—haunted every breath.

And when a note slipped under your door, Hayoon’s message, “Please come out. We’re here. You’re not alone.” your fingers trembled, but the weight on your chest only grew heavier.

You wanted to reach out. You wanted to escape this prison of your own making.

But the hunger—fueled by something you could barely admit—kept you trapped.

Wrapped in darkness, you whispered to the empty room, I can’t lose control. Not him. Not now.

The halls felt emptier than usual. Each step echoed louder without Y/N’s presence to soften the silence. He had been to her dorm more times than he could count, knocking gently, calling her name, hoping for even a glimpse of her.

But nothing.

Her door stayed shut. The light off. Like she’d disappeared completely.

He hated this—the distance between them growing, the unanswered questions swirling in his mind. Why was she shutting them out? Was it fear? Shame? Or something worse?

Every memory of her—her quiet strength, the way she flinched when he got hurt, the subtle vulnerability behind her guarded eyes—pulled at him. It was like he could feel her hunger, the storm raging beneath her calm exterior.

He clenched his fists. I won’t let her face this alone.

No matter how many times she pushed him away, he’d keep trying. Because somewhere deep down, he believed she needed him. And maybe—just maybe—he needed her too.

The silence in your dorm room had been suffocating—thick and unyielding, like the walls themselves were closing in on you. Days had passed since you’d fled the courtyard, since the hunger had nearly taken you over completely. You’d locked yourself away, hiding from the sun, from your friends, from the truth gnawing at your insides.

But tonight—something restless stirred inside you. The craving, the ache, wasn’t just hunger anymore. It was something deeper, more complicated. You tried to push it down, tried to bury it beneath layers of fear and denial. But it clawed at you relentlessly. The memory of Jungwon’s blood—the warmth, the sound of his breath—it haunted you. And with it, the feelings you refused to name.

You glanced at the clock. Midnight. The hallways would be empty. The world is quiet. Safe—maybe.

Trembling, you slipped out from under the heavy blankets. Your body ached with exhaustion, but your mind was racing, wild. Your gloves felt like armor, but even they couldn’t shield you from what stirred beneath your skin.

Heart hammering, you cracked open your door. The corridor stretched out like a dark river. Every sound felt amplified—the distant drip of water, the faint rustle of leaves outside, the quick beat of your own pulse.

You moved forward, each step a test of your will. You tried to breathe slow, steady, but the air felt thin, sharp in your lungs.

Halfway down the hall, just as your resolve wavered, a shadow detached itself from the darkness.

“Y/N?”

The single word shattered your fragile calm.

You whirled around, eyes wide and searching.

Jungwon stepped into the dim light, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said quietly, a tremor of worry in his voice. “You’ve been gone for days.”

The raw ache inside your chest tightened painfully. You clenched your fists, the skin around your nails white.

“I—” you started, then stopped. How could you explain the darkness that had swallowed you? The hunger that made your blood feel like fire? The fear that you might hurt him, or lose yourself completely?

“You’ve been avoiding everyone,” he pressed, stepping closer, voice low but urgent. “And now you’re out here… alone.”

Your breath hitched. The truth was clawing its way up your throat, begging to be told. But so was the fear—the kind that screamed to stay hidden, to keep the secret locked away forever.

His eyes searched yours, unflinching.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “what are you?”

Your throat closed. You wanted to run, to hide behind the walls you’d built. But his presence was a tether you couldn’t break.

“I—” You swallowed, voice barely steady. “I’m nothing.”

“No,” Jungwon said, voice low but firm. “You’re not nothing. And you don’t have to be alone in this.”

The hunger twisted sharper inside you, your gloves slipping from your fingers as panic flared. You met his gaze, trembling.

“Fine,” you said, voice breaking under the weight of the secret. “I’m a vampire.”

His eyes widened — not with fear, but with something deeper. Hurt. Confusion. A fierce determination.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice cracked. “I could’ve helped you.”

You shook your head, backing away, shame and terror flooding you.

“You don’t understand. I’m dangerous. I’m barely holding on.”

Jungwon stepped forward, desperation bleeding into his voice. “I don’t care about what you are. I care about you.”

But you were already turning, fleeing through the halls, tears blurring your vision.

“Please… stay away.”

Your footsteps faded, leaving Jungwon standing alone in the cold silence, torn between hope and heartbreak.

He didn’t follow you.

Not because he didn’t want to—but because the look in your eyes, the way your voice cracked when you said “Please… stay away,” had rooted him to the floor. He stood there in the corridor long after you were gone, the echo of your retreating steps like a ghost’s whisper in the dark.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. His heart thundered. A vampire?

It wasn’t shock that hit him. Not really. It was everything else—the puzzle pieces that suddenly made sense. Your cold skin, your silence, the gloves, the umbrella even in the shade. The way you recoiled from warmth but stared at him like you were starving. The way you’d disappeared. How terrified you’d looked after the courtyard.

He’d guessed it. Or maybe some part of him had always known something wasn’t normal. But hearing you say it…

Hearing the fear in your voice as you ran.

He leaned against the stone wall, breath shallow, staring at the empty hallway like it could offer him answers. But all he saw was the flash of your glowing eyes. All he heard was the tremble in your voice. I’m barely holding on.

Jungwon finally moved. Slowly. Like every limb weighed more than it should.

He made his way toward the edge of campus, the trees whispering above him as he walked blindly into the dark. His mind spun in circles, torn between the urge to chase after you and the fear that he’d already pushed too far. You were scared—of yourself, of hurting him. But all he wanted was to pull you back, to tell you he wasn’t afraid.

But maybe you needed space.

Maybe you needed him to be brave for you, even when you were too afraid to ask.

He looked up at the stars, cold and distant, and whispered into the quiet night, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The dorms were too quiet.

It had been three days since the courtyard incident. Three days since you vanished behind your locked door, and Jungwon stopped showing up uninvited.

Hayoon had knocked. Once. Twice. Every day. She left snacks outside your door, a cup of tea that went cold by morning.

But she never got a reply.

The silence was unbearable. Not just because she missed your sarcastic mutters and odd little quirks, or the way you’d sigh like everything was exhausting—but still show up anyway.

She noticed how Jungwon looked the day after—quiet, distant, like he’d been punched in the gut and still hadn’t caught his breath.

Hayoon bit her thumb, pacing in the library where she used to sit with both of you. The sunlight from the windows filtered in, but she stayed in the shadowed corners, restless. Her notebook lay open, but she hadn’t written anything in the last twenty minutes.

When Jungwon entered, she didn’t even pretend to be surprised.

He didn’t sit. Just leaned against the bookcase beside her, arms crossed tightly.

“She’s still not talking to you either?” Hayoon asked, watching him carefully.

He shook his head. “I saw her last night.”

Hayoon froze, anger bubbling in her chest. “You what?”

Jungwon exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “She left her room. I think she was trying to run. I— I stopped her.”

Something in his voice made Hayoon’s stomach twist. “What happened?”

“She told me the truth.” His voice was quiet. Almost broken. “Or enough of it.”

Hayoon straightened slowly, heart sinking. “And?”

Jungwon looked at her then, like the weight of it was crushing him. “She’s a vampire.”

“I already knew,” Hayoon said quietly.

Jungwon blinked at her.

“I found out myself,” she added, voice shaking a little. “I caught her in the unused faculty bathroom with a bag of expired blood. She starves herself for long periods.”

“She was afraid,” Jungwon said. “Afraid of hurting me. Hurting anyone.”

Hayoon closed her eyes. She could still see Y/N’s face that day. The look of hunger. Of guilt. Of shame.

She opened them again. “She’s not a monster.”

“No,” Jungwon agreed, “but she thinks she is.”

Hayoon looked out the library window, toward the stretch of trees beyond the courtyard. Toward the place where everything had broken.

“I’ll see her tonight,” Hayoon said with determination. Jungwon raised a brow at her.

“How is that going to work?”

“You’ll see.”

That night, she went to the dorms, blanket over her shoulders and quiet fury in her chest. Not the kind directed at Y/N—but at the fear that kept you hidden. The shame that curled its claws into your spine and whispered that you didn’t deserve to be seen.

Wrong.

Hayoon reached your door and knocked once, firm. “You’re not dying in there,” she called. “Metaphorically or literally.”

No answer.

“Don’t make me kick this in.”

There was a shuffle. Then, silence.

“Y/N,” Hayoon said, softer now. “I know he knows. Jungwon told me.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, the soft click of the lock.

The door cracked open, and Hayoon’s heart hurt at the sight. You looked like a shadow of yourself—eyes red-rimmed, lips pale, body tense like a bowstring. You didn’t look dangerous. You looked broken.

“You came,” you whispered.

“You idiot,” Hayoon muttered, brushing past her and into the room. “Of course I came.”

The dorm was dim, the curtains drawn tight, the air stale. Notes were scattered across the desk, some half-ripped. You had been spiraling. Alone.

Hayoon turned to face you. “You can’t keep doing this.”

You leaned against the wall, looking down. “I almost bit him. You saw it. I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t,” Hayoon said sharply. “Because you’re still you. You fought it.”

“I ran.”

“And you didn’t hurt him. That counts.”

Your laugh was hollow. “You don’t get it. The hunger—it’s not fading. It’s worse. Especially with him.” You dragged a shaky hand through your hair. “I think it’s because I care about him. I want him. So now it’s not just thirst. It’s an obsession. Emotion. I can't separate them anymore.”

Hayoon took a breath and crossed the room.

“Love doesn’t make you dangerous, Y/N. Being alone does.”

You looked at her then, really looked. “I’m not safe, Hayoon.”

“Then we make you safe,” she said. “We figure it out. Together.”

A moment passed, heavy and still. Then your chin trembled, and she turned away.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” Hayoon said quietly. “But you are. And I think that scares me more than anything.”

The silence stretched.

Then you finally nodded.

Hayoon stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

This time, you didn’t pull away.

Hayoon left shortly after, promising to be back soon.

Not long after she left, a note slipped under your door. You could recognise that messy handwriting anywhere.

"Meet me at the greenhouse. You don’t have to speak. Just come if you want to understand."

There was no date. Just now. Or never.

The ache in your chest stirred like a waking animal. Stupid boy. Stupid feelings. Stupid... hope.

The sky was deep blue, barely tinged with purple when you left. You wore the gloves again, not for protection but for familiarity—something solid, grounding.

The walk to the greenhouse felt longer than it should have. Every creak of the path, every rustle of the trees made you tense. Made you want to turn back.

But something pushed you forward.

And there he was.

Jungwon stood under the rusted arch of climbing ivy, his back to you at first, leaning against the old stone wall. The breeze moved through his hair, and he looked… tired. Not physically, but like someone who had been carrying questions too long without answers.

He turned before you could speak, like he sensed you there.

Your breath caught. The space between you both tightened, even though no one moved.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low, careful.

You didn’t know if the thrum in your chest was fear or something far more dangerous.

“I thought…” You started, then faltered. “You’d be mad.”

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together. “Mad?”

You looked down. Your fingers curled into the sleeves of your coat. “For running. For lying. For—everything.”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not mad.” A pause. “I’m trying to understand.”

That hurt more than anger would have.

You took a step forward, the gravel crunching softly beneath your boots. “You don’t have to,” you murmured. “You shouldn’t.”

He looked at you like you were made of glass and wildfire all at once. “But I want to.”

Something in you buckled at those words.

The moon filtered down through the trees, soft silver against his skin. You didn’t realize you were trembling until you noticed your gloves shifting. Not from cold—from restraint. Always restraint.

“You don’t get it,” you whispered, voice cracking. “It’s not just about hunger. It’s not just about what I am. It’s what I feel when I’m near you.”

Jungwon’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he stepped forward.

“What do you feel?”

You hesitated, the answer burning the back of your throat like fire.

“Like I’m losing control,” you admitted. “Like I’m not safe to be around. Like I’m walking a tightrope with no end, and if I fall, it won’t just destroy me.”

He was close now. Not touching you, but close enough that you could feel his presence like heat against your skin.

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then let me be the net.”

Your chest clenched. “Don’t say that. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Why do you think I keep showing up, Y/N?” he said, louder now. “Even when you avoid me. Even when you disappear.”

“Because you’re curious,” you shot back. “Because I’m strange and different and you like puzzles—”

“Because I care about you!” His voice broke on the last word. “Not some version of you I made up. You. All of you. Even the parts you hate.”

You stared at him, the world spinning slowly out of focus.

The hunger inside you pulsed like a second heartbeat—but it wasn’t just blood it ached for. It was closeness. Warmth. His hand in yours. The feeling of being seen without being hunted.

Your throat felt tight. “If I let myself love you, I might destroy you.”

He stepped forward until there was barely space left between you. “And if I let you go, I’ll destroy myself wondering what we could’ve been.”

You closed your eyes.

The wind rustled around you. A branch creaked somewhere far off. And your pulse roared in your ears.

You opened your mouth to warn him, to push him away again—but instead, you whispered, “You shouldn’t have come.”

“But I did,” he murmured. “And I’m not leaving.”

His hand reached out—tentative, trembling—and barely brushed your sleeve. You didn’t stop him.

For a moment, you both stood in silence. The distance gone. The danger thick in the air. The truth lay bare between you like an open wound.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first—but suddenly his breath was close, his warmth bleeding into yours, and for the first time in days, the hunger inside you quieted.

Not gone.

But listening.

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v3lv3ttt · 19 days ago

Text

In The Dark

𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚠𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝚅𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

↪ don't come at me for inaccuracies okay I haven't read the webtoon for Decelis academy so I'm making my own lmao also dont ask how many times this was rewritten i will cry this took me 4 days

↪ hayoon changes personalities for some reason idk don't ask me i love her anyway this is nawt proof read. cross posted on a03 2/lonefloric and wattpad 2/lonefloric