#quiescence

Seokjin, before his Change, was a French bachelor of a distant royal bloodline. He told Yoongi stories of the rich wonders of France, of dinners in the most elegant of houses, of the deepest roots of French history he could remember. Yoongi drank it all in and more, begging for details and information, begging for the knowledge the older vampire held within him. Yoongi was only about two hundred years old and it had taken him thus long to learn to control himself around human blood on his own pure will. Yoongi needed Seokjin.

Seokjin gave Yoongi a room in the apartment complex he owned and told him to keep to himself. Yoongi kept to himself for years, turning his British accent into an American one and making use of himself by killing the rats that loitered the old building. Seokjin provided for him until he finally fabricated enough papers to make Yoongi an official US citizen and give him a spot at a prestigious university.

Yoongi didn’t see the point in school, but because he was putting Seokjin into debt because of it, he went anyways. It was boring, and three years of these monotonous classes passed Yoongi quickly. They were nothing compared to the time he had spent as a beggar in the streets of Great Britain. He didn’t think anything of college until he met you, a young and eager freshman, lured to a bar by a few of the people you had called friends.

In your drunken frenzy, you had bumped into Yoongi and spilled your drink over his shirt. He didn’t have the energy to be angry, but you insisted on cleaning him. You pulled him to a dark, isolated corner and pressed your handkerchief to his chest, apologizing profusely.

But Yoongi could barely feel or see past your scent. It wrapped around his head and squeezed like a snake, making him feel light headed and intoxicated. He had been around the most putrid and most alluring smelling humans before, but this was new. This was something he’d never experienced or heard of. Seokjin never told him a human could make him feel this way. Without thinking, he cupped your chin and forced your head up to took at him.

You gulped. “I’m sorry?”

He said nothing, just stared at you with wide, crimson eyes. You couldn’t see as they shifted colors in the dim lights, but his cold skin made you want to run away but hold him closer in the same moment. “I want to kiss you.” He wondered aloud, completely enchanted by your radiating charisma.

“Then why don’t you?” You dared eagerly, alcohol on your tongue making you bolder than any other day.

In that moment, Yoongi wanted to ruin you. He wanted to corrupt you and steal your youth away as his had been. He wanted to grab you by the curve of your neck and let his fangs do the work. He wanted to marry you and watch you grow old. But he didn’t want to lose you, he knew even then that you would be his.

Your wide, twinkling eyes glanced over his face—you wanted to know what he was thinking. But he seemed lost, he seemed to be drowning in the ocean of his mind and so you grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled him into you eagerly. You sank your teeth into his bottom lip and he immediately grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. A drunkard nearby was whooping and hollering, clapping and cheering the two of you on as you tried to pull him into yourself and lock him away.

Maybe, it was the alcohol, maybe, it was something you couldn’t quite name, something like—dare you say it—fate? He was your medicine and you needed him more than anything else.

He took you home but would do nothing more than put you to sleep, caressing the inside of your thigh, as if he wanted to go further but had to hold himself back. You didn’t mind, you were too drunk to have remembered anything more.

When you woke up, he was across the room, humming and singing a song in a language you couldn’t understand, spinning around the kitchen as he made breakfast. His apartment was spacious, and each room led openly into the next. A barrier kept you hidden in the bedroom from the rest of the home.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, hiding yourself half nakedly behind the barrier, only your head peaking out.

Yoongi twisted on his heel and hummed and snapped to the song playing in his head, his pan haphazardly swinging in the air. You laughed and watched him, looking so happy as the morning sunlight seeped through every window of the apartment. “Why don’t you sit down?” Yoongi asked as his serenade came to a close and he dished the food onto two plates.

“I don’t know where my clothes are.” You whispered, a sharp smile on your face.

He nodded in understanding, “They’re in the wash downstairs. Grab any of mine.”

You hummed an okay and turned back to the bedroom, crossing your arms over your chest. Your brassiere was nowhere to be found, but you were thankfully still in your panties. Without giving it much thought, you strode over to the dresser and picked out a clean shirt. You buttoned it a few times and then skipped out from behind the barrier.

“What are we eating?”

Yoongi slid into a seat beside you and grinned, pushing a plate across the table. “Toast, eggs, bacon, cereal, orange juice I didn’t know what you’d like.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I love breakfast food.”

You picked up your fork and began eating. About halfway in, you noticed that Yoongi wasn’t eating and looked up to ask him why only to find him staring directly at you. His eyes were a pure red and you were taken aback. “Oh my—”

“What?” Yoongi blinked and the red was gone, as if by magic, like it had never been there at all.

You shook your head, trying to dismiss it as if you were hungover or still tired. “Nothing.” You ate a few more bites of food but your appetite had seemed to surpass you. You couldn’t shake those crimson eyes from your head. “What color are your eyes?”

Yoongi chuckled, “Brown, of course. Why do you ask?”

Inside, Yoongi’s stomach jumped, but Seokjin had taught him enough to keep calm in a situation like this.

“Never mind, I must be going crazy.” You ruffled your hair and pushed the plate of food away, you were no longer hungry.  You’re not crazy.” Yoongi smiled and you leaned on your elbow, melting under his effulgent gaze. You felt like you had known him, but you’d never met him before—hadn’t even passed him by at university.

“I just—I just thought your eyes were red for a moment there—but it’s nothing I’m just tired.”

Yoongi leaned across the table and rubbed your back as you put your hands over your face. “It’s okay, it was just a momentary lapse of judgement. That’s all.”

You don’t know how or when, but you moved in with Yoongi. Somewhere between him graduating from university and you telling your strict parents about him, you decided it would be best for the prosperity of your relationship if you shared the apartment. You barely had more than two boxes to bring to Yoongi’s as you had already been leaving your things there for months.

The move felt natural and comfortable. After that awkward morning, you went out a few times and declared yourself a couple. Yoongi was completely in love with you, but he still didn’t want to make love to you. He kept saying it was because his mother had raised him not to before marriage, but he never seemed like that type of man. You didn’t mind, he had other ways of pleasuring you in the bedroom anyways—and he was more than exceptional at it.

You’d been together a year and a half before you realized that you’d never celebrated Yoongi’s birthday. You were mad at him for never telling you when it was, but then you realized that you had never asked.

That night, Yoongi came home from work with a frown and you made your way across the living room to pull him close—work had been hard those last few weeks and it was starting to show under his eyes and between his brow.

Yoongi made a hum of content when you wrapped your arms around him and he curled his own around your shoulders, pulling you deeper into the hug. His breath tickled your scalp and he smelled like that expensive cologne you saved up to buy him your first Christmas together.

“I don’t usually like hugs because it wrinkles my suits,” Yoongi chuckled, his voice resonating between your bodies, “but you feel so much better against me like this.”

“Oh, shut up,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and accepting every inch of him in.

You never wanted to let him go but you were quickly reminded of the reason you approached him. You pulled away from him and held him at arm’s length with an inquiring smile. “When is your birthday?”

Yoongi blinked a few times. “I don’t have one.”

He said this as if it was something normal you felt odd after he mentioned it so calmly. You felt slightly let down, because now you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or was trying really hard to keep it from you. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have one, I’m not sure what else to tell you.”

“Didn’t you celebrate your birthday with your parents when you were younger?” Yoongi pulled away from you and set his briefcase down on the table, pushing his hair back off his forehead.

He shrugged in that dismissive way you’d come to loathe. “I can’t remember.”

“Oh, everyone remembers their childhood.” You pressed lightheartedly, standing beside him, trying to capture his full attention. He seemed lost somewhere in his thoughts.

Yoongi stopped moving suddenly, like you had said something you shouldn’t have. “Not everyone.”

“What do you mean? Yoongi, what are you talking about?” The conversation seemed to have drifted off into the dark past Yoongi never brought up, one you’d never had the courage to ask about. Everyone is entitled to their secrets, it doesn’t keep you from completely loving Yoongi as his past has made him the man he is.

“We should go to bed.” Yoongi suggested, turning to you. His stare captured yours and in his beautiful brown eyes twinkled a baleful crimson.

You stepped back. “Oh my god.”

“What? What did I do?” Yoongi reached out for you but you stumbled backwards again, your hands covering your lips.

But now he stared at you softly and the crimson was gone. You felt like you’d gone mad. “Yoongi, there’s something wrong.”

“What is it? What is it, darling?” He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, peppering soft kissed along your knuckles. His skin was freezing cold—and it was blistering outside.

“I think—” you hiccupped and clasped your other hand over his. “I think I’m seeing things.”

He shook his head, “Honey, no. You’re not seeing anything, you’re just riled up. A momentary lapse of judgement.”

With those words, that first morning together rushed back to you and you could once again his crimson eyes. “No, no, no, no, no.” You covered your face with your hands. “It’s there again.”

“What’s there? Darling, you have to tell me what’s going on so I can help.”

Yoongi had his arms around you but you didn’t feel the same, he was differen.t He felt like the cold shell of a dead body, rotting away under pounds of dirt and grime. “Your eyes—they’re red.”

It had been so long since Yoongi allowed himself to show this other side of him—the side he wished didn’t exist but has given him you in return for his death. “Darling,” a knot formed in the back of Yoongi’s throat. He was sick of lying to you—his innocent lover—who wanted nothing more than to be with him. “I have something to tell you.”

Your heart pounded against his chest and for once Yoongi felt as if he was alive, like adrenaline was pushing through his veins as it once had.

“Let me show you.”

Yoongi leaned down and cupped your chin, looking deep in your eyes as if he was going to kiss you but as your eyes were fluttering closed Yoongi tilts your neck and sinks his teeth into your flesh. In the first second, you thought he might be joking and trying to give you a hickey, but then the shark pain of his teeth breaking through made you cry out.

Tears brimmed in your eyes and Yoongi pulled you by the small of your back even closer. You tilted your head back further and whimpered under him, digging your nails into his shoulders. But you never told him to stop.

The feeling of your blood being drawn out made you feel high, it brought you closer to a second plane of existence you didn’t know you could reach. The edges of your vision turned black and hazy, but you held onto Yoongi and allowed yourself to let go. Somewhere, you knew that he had the power to kill you, but something stronger knew he wouldn’t.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t feel the tips of your fingers or your feet, but you smiled at him. A droplet of your blood stained the edges of his lips and his tongue quickly swiped out to catch it.

His hand gripped yours tightly.

“I want to know more.”

⇢ next. 

⇢ playlist coming soon!

note: i wrote this in pretty much a day so i’m sorry if the editing isn’t the best. hopefully i will be updating this soon. also, just a heads up, the chapters are also not in a chronological order.