Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Late June

Minho hears his heartbeat well before he can hear the telltale sign of the front gate being opened.

The rusty hinges squeak, too loud in his vampire ears. He reaches for the bookmark lying on the wooden table and slides it in between the pages, closing his book with a snap.

It has become some sort of a ritual by now.

Minho lets his eyes fall shut, pretends that he doesn’t care, that his body isn’t practically begging him to open the door and let him in. He hears footsteps coming from the front porch, threading carefully. Even in broad daylight, he can sense the traces of his uncertainty, his wonder.

When Minho gets up from the chaise longue after a moment of contemplation, he is persuading himself that it is only to make sure that it’s really him, and not some uninvited intruder seeking thrill from trespassing. The rational, more mature part of his brain scoffs at him, because how could he ever mistake the sound of Jisung’s heart for somebody else’s?

Peeking out of the hallway’s window, Minho can see him clearly. His brown hair, getting longer with each passing day. His honeyed skin, shining even more golden under the summer sun. His little smile when he sees the cat hopping onto the porch and winding between his legs.

“Here you are,” Jisung coos, unaware that the sound of his voice makes Minho’s dead heart vibrate in his chest. “I was wondering if you were going to show up today.”

Salem meows in response, sitting right in front of Jisung, tail swishing in anticipation. He purrs so loudly Minho would be able to hear him even without his enhanced hearing.

The first time Jisung showed up again after the Halloween night, he didn’t dare to open the front gate. Minho couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw him through his bedroom window, shuffling his feet on the concrete, his bike lying on the ground with its wheels still spinning. It was a cold Decembre afternoon, and Minho was just about to go outside and find himself something for dinner.

He froze to the spot when he saw him. He listened to his heart, wild and beating frantically from pedalling all the way up the hill. Minho wanted to run out of the house, wrap his arms around him and never let go.

He also wished Jisung had never found the courage to go the haunted house ever again.

When Jisung finally left that afternoon, it was getting too dark, and even with his vampiric senses, Minho doubted that he would be able to hunt something down that day. His mind was all over the place, the memories of Jisung flooding his being.

The memories that only he remembered.

And with them, the gnawing feeling of guilt came crashing into him like a tsunami wave.

The worst thing was that Jisung didn’t stop coming back. And as if to let Minho know that he deserved this kind of punishment, when Jisung was so close and yet so far away from him, Salem befriended the boy right after he showed up for the second time that winter.

From then on, Jisung was coming back regularly. He always brought treats for the feline, getting braver each time he visited until one day, he pushed the gate open and it let him pass through unscathed.

Minho was pissed. His heart was bursting with joy at seeing him again, smiling that beautiful smile of his. He was scared and wanted to send Jisung away, compel him to leave and to never come back. He wanted to kiss him so much it hurt.

When Minho realized that the mere thought of Jisung was causing him pain, he panicked. He hadn’t felt that way in so long – possibly since the day he was turned. The nauseous feeling clenched around his heart like a barbed wire, making him ache in a way he thought was impossible for someone like him.

He tried to push Jisung away, unsuccessfully. He kept Salem in the house at first, but that only earned him death glares and scratched furniture. Jisung kept coming back anyway, leaving the treats outside on the porch, sitting alone in the cold.

Minho tried to change the nature of the spells surrounding the estate, but without Jeongin’s help, he could only do so much. When he asked the other to help him with keeping Jisung at the other side of the fence, Jeongin raised an amused eyebrow at him.

“I’ve never seen you turn down free blood before. Are you feeling alright, Minho?”

The problem was that Minho didn’t tell anyone about what happened on Halloween night. Jeongin, his main blood supplier, was well aware of his feeding habits, so when he came to visit him with freshly drawn packets of blood the night after he sent Jisung away, Minho noncommittally hummed and said that he had already eaten the day before.

Jeongin looked at him questioningly, but he didn’t ask further.

So, Jisung kept riding his bike to the haunted house almost every day. And every time Minho heard his heartbeat from the front gate, he tried to persuade himself to not care.

So far, he failed on every occasion.

Now, Minho watches Jisung sit down on the front steps, Salem purring at his side. His cold heart aches at the sight, longing to break all the spells and let Jisung see him, let him inside the house and into his arms.

His mind reminds him of how foolish his wish is with the words that cut through him like knives.

Jisung doesn’t remember.

“I graduated yesterday,” his soft mellow voice pulls him out of his mind as he whispers to the cat. “I can’t believe I’ll have to find a job in a month. I’m turning nineteen in September, how can I even know what I want to do for the rest of my life?”

Salem blinks up at him slowly. He nudges his head into Jisung’s side, and in that moment, Minho is grateful to whoever is up there for the cat’s emotional intelligence. He is pretty sure Salem is an ordinary non-supernatural feline, but sometimes his human-like behaviour makes him wonder.

“I wish I could be a cat. Your life must be so much easier than mine.”

“Oh, Jisungie…,” Minho trails off in a whisper, his head falling with a soft thud on the window glass.

He realizes what he has done when Jisung whips his head around, looking exactly where he is standing in the hallway. Their eyes meet, but Minho doesn’t hide, doesn’t walk away from the window. He knows Jisung can’t see him because of the invisibility spell, so he stands there silently, watching his confused expression morph into one of curiosity.

After a moment or two, Jisung starts rubbing at his eyes, turning back to face the courtyard. He sighs loudly, his head in his hands.

“I’m not even sure why I keep coming back.”

Salem meows loudly in protest, making Jisung chuckle. The cat scooches in between his arms and his lap, making himself comfortable on his thighs and demanding attention. Something in Minho’s chest tightens, and his hands start to tremble with the need to grab the doorknob.

“I know, I know,” Jisung coos as he pets Salem’s black fur. “I would miss you, too.”

Minho is well aware that this torture is solely his own doing. He daydreams when he hears his voice, pictures that it’s him Jisung is telling about his day to instead of Salem. He lets his mind conjure up images of them, sitting together on the porch, laughing. In moments like these, he lets himself believe that Jisung would like to get to know him if the circumstances were different.

He is bitterly reminded of the reality of his nature when his ears catch the sound of another heartbeat, approaching the house from the other side where it faces the forest. Minho breaths in through his nose, catching a whiff of thyme and lavender, making his alert mind relax at the familiar scent.

Salem notices it, too, hopping down from Jisung’s lap. He headbutts him into his open palm as his way of saying goodbye, then scurries away into the courtyard and out through the open gate. Minho watches Jisung watch the cat, sighing as he gets up from the porch, too.

With one last look at the house, the front door and the window where Minho is standing hidden from sight, Jisung turns around and leaves. Minho doesn’t like the downcast look on his face, so much different from his usual bright smile.

It feels like dark clouds have overshadowed the sun when Jisung disappears from his view.

When Salem comes back several minutes later, it’s with a black-haired boy on his tail. Jeongin notices him standing by the window, hand raised in a friendly greeting. Minho, and his growing bad mood, only blinks at him in return, expression deadpanned, before he turns around and heads for the kitchen.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said he comes here every day.” Jeongin comments when he appears in the doorway.

Minho turns around from the open fridge, reaching his hand for the backpack Jeongin is handing him.

“That’s why I asked you to help me change the spells,” he answers with a scoff and an eyeroll.

From inside the bag, he pulls out several packets of blood. Minho is quite relieved when he sees that this batch is going to last him until the end of the week, if not longer. He doesn’t like the fact that Jeongin is stealing from the hospital’s blood transfusion supplies, but all things considered, it’s better than Minho going around town and breaking into someone’s house, drinking their blood and erasing their memories.

“Why do you think he keeps coming back?” Jeongin asks, leaning on the door frame with his hands crossed over his chest.

Before shutting the door of the fridge, Minho takes two vials full of translucent fluid from the upper slot. He doesn’t look at the other as he answers, “No clue.”

He hands Jeongin the payment for the blood – his venom and his saliva, one of the rarest ingrediencies used in modern alchemy. It’s a small consolation to Minho – to have the power to heal wounds at the expanse of having to cause harm in order to stay alive.

From the way Jeongin is looking at him, he knows that he isn’t entirely buying it. He tilts his head to the side, seemingly in thought, which only serves to irk Minho further.

“What?”

“If he comes here this often, I don’t think he is afraid anymore. And if he isn’t afraid…,” Jeongin trails off before he continues, sighing, “the tales will eventually stop spreading around.”

Meaning more people are going to start showing up, invading his privacy, Minho supplies without needing his help. The illusions surrounding the estate are just a part of a larger whole; it’s the fairytales that instill fear in people, a kind of learned cautiousness passed down through generations.

The reputation the haunted house holds is just as important as the magic part.

Minho sighs, more as a habit than an actual need for air. He looks to Salem, sprawled on the chair by the kitchen table, watching him with curious expression.

Except for the cat, this house is the only thing keeping him company. He likes wandering through the hallways, reading his books in different rooms every night. He likes the beat-up TV in the downstairs living room that has only two channels to switch between.

Minho likes his comfy bed – the one where a part of him started feeling like a human being again when Jisung looked at him with eyes full of affection.

Jisung.

Jeongin pulls him out of his thoughts with a simple, “But I think I might have a way how to help you with that.”

The smirk on his face tells Minho that whatever comes out of his mouth next, he isn’t going to like it.

At all.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

September

The Haunted House Has Finally Found Its New Resident!

For several decades, the magnificent gothic villa has been standing deserted, forgotten by the town and whispered about amongst the common folk. Its neglected appearance and mysterious aura have managed to deter several potential buyers over the years, but that curse was finally broken last month when a young philanthropist stumbled upon the estate during his visit to our picturesque town.

I managed to speak with Mr. Yang when he stopped by the mayor’s office to sign the official documents. As uncanny as perhaps the house itself, Mr. Yang had only brief words to spare, informing me that he is planning to return the property to its proper glory. He also mentioned that he has adopted the stray cat that refused to leave the grounds.

The residents of our town have yet to see if Mr. Yang succeeds in his renovations, or if the eerie nature of the house catches up with him. We wish him the best of luck as our new neighbour and friend, and we look forward to his contribution to our community.

Signed the author,

Kim Seungmin  

Jisung skims over the lines again and once more after that.

He knew something was up when the sign with bold letters spelling Sold! appeared in the courtyard out of the blue in the middle of summer. But, reading it confirmed in the town’s newspapers, it really does feel more real than it did few months ago.

Jisung doesn’t know why it makes him feel dejected, like something personal nobody else knew about was just stolen from him. His friends have been supporting at the start, but as his visits to the haunted house grew more frequent, they started worrying about him. With his… obsession… about what happened there last Halloween.

He guesses that now, he really doesn’t have any other choice then to let it go if he doesn’t want to end up in jail for breaking and entering on someone’s private property.

The loud ringing of the front bell breaks Jisung out of his thoughts, signalling that a new customer has just ventured into the shop. Eyes still glued to the article, he shouts after his friend and coworker.

“Hyunjin, can you get that?”

Elbows leaning onto the counter, Jisung turns the page to see the pictures of the villa. He doesn’t know why he is scanning them like he could find something new – he has committed every detail of the building to memory, every window, every miniscule crack in the façade.

No picture of the elusive Mr. Yang appears among the photos, but Jisung thinks it’s probably for the best. If there is no face attached to the name, he can pretend just for a moment longer that this is just some bad dream, that he just fell asleep on his shift and is currently drooling down onto the newspapers.

“Hyunjin-ah!” He yells again when there is no answer.

Jisung unglues his eyes from the article, looking around the DVD shop. When he checks the clock on the opposite wall, he finds that they have only ten minutes until nine – closing time. The newcomer is nowhere to be seen – just shelves upon shelves of movies, musicals, soap operas and CDs with bands and singers no one has ever heard of.

To Jisung’s demise, Hyunjin is nowhere to be seen either. He folds the pages neatly, putting the newspapers aside before he comes out from behind the counter. The aisles between the nearest shelves are empty, so he decides to go look further in the back.

It’s in the Horror section that he finally stumbles upon the new customer. Jisung nearly collides with his back by accident as he is peeking into the aisles he passes by, not paying attention to what lies in front of him. The guy turns to face him, lips parted with already forming words, but when their eyes meet, Jisung swears the time stops.

His expression looks caught off guard, eyebrows raised in the middle of his forehead. The boy’s lower lip quivers more the longer they stand there, both speechless and stunned. Golden-brown eyes are staring into Jisung’s with an intensity he doesn’t understand. It’s almost like this has already happened before, like if Jisung closed his eyes and focused, he would remember where they met.

The eerie feeling doesn’t leave him when he blinks several time, trying to compose himself again.

“Oof, excuse me, sorry,” Jisung stammers out, heart pounding, “I didn’t see you there. Are you searching for something particular?”  

More silence, but this time, he hears the boy draw in air, breathing in and out. His eyes continue to search his face, making Jisung suddenly very self-aware. His palms get uncomfortably clammy with sweat.

“I’m… I was…,” the other trails off, blinking out of his stupor. Jisung smiles at him with his customer smile, hoping that the boy can’t hear how fast his heart is racing.

Raking his hand through his blonde hair, he turns halfway to the shelf stacked with horror movies, eyes anywhere but Jisung’s face.

“I was sent to pick out something for our movie night. My roommate would normally go by himself, but he had to stay behind at work today, and I don’t really know any good movies.”

Relief, immediately followed by a pang of shame, floods his body when Jisung hears the word roommate and not girlfriend or date. He knows he must be flushed in the face, searching in vain for a reason why he should feel jealous about some stranger’s dating life when he doesn’t even know his name.

Clearing his throat, he takes a step closer to the shelf, but with enough safe distance between him and the boy. “Let’s start with what you might like. Do you have any favourite horror movie?”

“Um, no,” the other says after briefly scanning the shelves. Then, his eyes flick to Jisung just for a fleeting moment before he asks in a low voice, “Do you?”

One corner of his mouth riding up, Jisung searches the top shelf with the newest releases. He finds what he is looking for right away, pulling the DVD case out.

“This is Scream,” he says as he shows him the front depicting the movie’s main characters. “I wouldn’t say it’s a horror movie, more like a slasher. But it’s, like, really good.”  

The other takes it from him, flipping to the back to read the blurb. Jisung watches him shamelessly, the slope of his nose, his pink lips. It’s cute – the way he tilts his head when he is focused on reading the movie’s description.

There is no denying that the boy standing in front of him is beyond beautiful.

Jisung’s heart begins to race for a whole other different reason when he realizes that.

In that moment, the other looks up from the case, his lips parted and expression surprised. Jisung can’t explain his reaction other than that the plot of the movie must have caught his attention.

He couldn’t feel his heart picking up speed, right? That would be crazy.

There is something (something that he is going to unpack some other time) in Jisung that is reluctant to part with him like this, and that’s why he suggests, “Should we look at other genres in case you and your roommate won’t like this one?”

That’s how they end up going through the aisles, one by one; they move from Horror to Sci-Fi, then Comedy and Romance at the last. The boy doesn’t say much – he is mainly letting Jisung recommend him movies without interrupting, his hands already full carrying five DVDs at least.

When they arrive at the counter, Hyunjin is there, leaning over the newspapers Jisung was reading earlier.

“Hey, where have you…,” he trails off when he sees Jisung with their customer following behind him, letting his mouth fall shut, eyes going back to the article.

Even though it looks like he isn’t paying attention to them, Jisung has known Hyunjin long enough to tell that he is only pretending to read the columns. If it was possible, Jisung is sure his ears would grow ten times bigger with the way he is straining them to hear their every word.

“So, there is Scream, Men in Black, 101 Dalmatians, Titanic and Good Will Hunting. I’ll just need to put your name and your landline number into the computer.”

Jisung logs into the system, waiting for the boy to give him the required information. When no response comes, he looks up to find his questioning eyes.

Slowly, carefully, the boy tells him his name. “It’s Minho. Lee Minho.”

“Okay,” Jisung says as he types onto the keyboard, smiling politely.

After Minho dictates him his phone number as well, Jisung puts in the titles of the borrowed movies. He sets the seven-day loan period starting from tomorrow, then packs them into a plastic bag.

“Thank you, Jisung.”

At the sound of his name slipping so casually past Minho’s lips he freezes, his hand stilled in the middle of handing him the bag over the counter. Looking equally stunned, Minho quickly grabs it, his cheeks dusting the palest shade of red.

Jisung’s curiosity gets the better of him, as always. “How do you know my name?”

Visibly caught off guard, Minho’s panicked eyes slide from his face to the front of his t-shirt.

“It’s on your nametag.” He answers simply, lips stretching into a pretty smile when Jisung averts his eyes from embarrassment.

Of course, I have to embarrass myself in front of a cute boy, he berates himself. He hides his face into his palm, managing to pull a soft, unexpected giggle out of Minho.

It’s only when Jisung hears the unmistakable fake-coughing coming from Hyunjin at his side, does he remember that he is supposed to be doing work-related stuff on his shift, even if there are only few minutes left until the end.

“Ehm, you have to return these within the next seven days, or we will have to charge you with a late fee,” Jisung recites. And then, because something braver possesses him for a second, he adds, “I hope you will let me know if you liked them.”

Minho really does have a uniquely pretty smile, Jisung thinks as the other nods his head with an agreeable expression and turns around to leave. Something invisible pulls at Jisung’s heart when the other exits the shop, quickly looking over his shoulder once before he disappears from view.

“Shit, Sung,” Hyunjin whistles appreciatively, “he was cute. And he totally thought the same thing about you, too.”

Jisung punches his friend’s arm, but he has a hard time supressing his smile.

“Shut up and help me close the store, will you?”

The image of Minho’s soft lips doesn’t leave his mind for the rest of the night.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

Jisung doesn’t expect to see Minho this soon, especially not on a Monday.

Mondays are always sluggish, mainly because nobody borrows or returns movies at the beginning of the week. Jisung likes slow days – that way, he can manage to watch the films playing on the box TV mounted to the wall without much distraction his whole shift.

Admittedly, his job isn’t exciting. It’s definitely not something he would want to do for the rest of his life. But Jisung can’t deny that it has its perks.

He is in the middle of stacking shelves surrounding the counter when the doorbell chimes and Minho comes in, accompanied by the warm gust of air following him from outside.

Jisung almost doesn’t recognize him with his sunglasses on, his brown leather jacket. He is carrying the plastic bag with the logo of the store he gave him last time, which makes Jisung smile dumbly without reason.

“Hi there,” Jisung greets him with an honest smile when their eyes meet. “You are already back.”

Minho pushes his sunglasses into his hair, matching his expression.

“They were all so good I had to come for another recommendation.”

Something akin to pride blooms in his chest upon hearing Minho’s words. Jisung takes the cases from him, checks them back into the system and puts them aside to be reshelved. He rings Minho up, and when he notices that he is still standing there after he has paid, he realizes that Minho genuinely meant it – that he came back for more.

“So, uhm, what did you like about these?” Jisung asks him, curious to know what made Minho want to watch other movies from his recommendation list.

Minho steps aside to go through the stack of his returned films. He takes out Good Will Hunting from the bottom of the pile, turning the case in his hands.

When he speaks, he doesn’t look up to meet Jisung’s eyes, and Jisung gets the sensation that Minho isn’t really used to talking about things like these.

“I liked the psychotherapist’s speech, when he and the main character are sitting by the lake,” Minho begins, his fingers dancing over the same scene that is depicted on the front. “When he is telling him that the idea of love is not the same as actually loving someone.”

Jisung can’t clearly see his face, but, from the tone of his voice alone, he can recognize that he is being honest – very close to vulnerable, even. Maybe the movie meant more to him than Jisung has originally thought.

He decides to meet him halfway, eyes slipping down to where his fingers rest on the cover.

“My favourite scene is the one where Chuckie is talking to Will on the construction site,” Jisung says slowly, his heart picking up speed when Minho looks up at him, expression curious.

Jisung doesn’t think Minho will understand – and that’s maybe why he isn’t afraid to share his thoughts with him.

“When Chuckie is telling him about the best part of his day being the ten seconds that take him to go up and knock on Will’s door every morning. Because he hopes that one day, he is not going to be there.”

“Do you have your on door that you are knocking on?” Minho asks in what is clearly meant to be a jest.

“No, I have the opposite problem,” Jisung corrects with a bittersweet smile. “There is a door that I want to knock on. But I’m afraid that if I do and no one answers, then I won’t know what to do next.”

Minho watches him with unguarded look in his eyes, lips parted. Their hands are within touching distance, but before Jisung lets the urge to move his fingers to where Minho’s are take over him, the other is pulling his hands back. His eyes remain soft but unreadable, and Jisung wishes for nothing more in this moment than the ability to read minds.

When Minho continues to stay silent, Jisung looks to the side at the other titles he has returned. He grabs the nearest one, trying to pull off a convincing smile when he asks, “How did you like this one?”

Gaze slowly slipping from his face to the front cover of the 101 Dalmatians, Minho scrunches his nose.

“Nice enough, but I prefer cats to dogs.”

If it’s the grave tone of his voice or his expressive face, Jisung can’t tell, but he isn’t particularly surprised to learn that Minho is a cat person.

“You should have told me!” Jisung whisper-shouts as not to disturb the other two people roaming about between the aisles. “I would’ve recommended you something with feline main characters.”

“Like what?” Minho grins this time, his smile inviting a challenge.  

Jisung leaves his spot at the counter, motioning for Minho to follow him into the Animation section. He bends down in front of one shelf, searching in the bottom half for whole two seconds before he finds the desired movie.

Pulling out a square box with a colourful front depicting a girl and a cat hopping on the clouds, he proudly shows it to Minho.

“Whisper of the Heart?” Minho reads out loud, eyes curiously scanning the cassette.

“It’s beyond cute, I swear you are going to like it. The only thing is that Japan didn’t start making DVDs until ’96, so the only way you can watch it is via a cassette player. Or,” Jisung stops himself to breathe, looking past Minho to the backrooms, “if you don’t have that at home, you can always book one of the private rooms at the store and watch it here.”

Minho takes the cassette from him, their fingers touching only briefly. Jisung stops himself in time from flinching away at the cold that licks his skin. September has been kind since it started, with the sun shining every day.

Maybe Minho is just one of those people with bad thermoregulation, he concludes.

When Minho takes his time reading the movie’s description on the backside, Jisung’s skin starts vibrating with nervosity. He stands there, playing with his fingers when his mouth betrays him.

“I-I could watch it with you, if you would want to.”

Stupid. Absolutely stupid, Jisung mentally whips himself right after. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut until Minho answered him? Now, he is definitely going to think that Jisung is a creep, or that he is trying to hit on him just after their second meeting in his workplace of all–

“Yeah, okay,” is what comes out of Minho’s mouth instead. Two simple words, feeling like liquid honey in his ears, like a balm on his rabbiting heart.

The soft smile playing on his lips makes Jisung avert his eyes to the ground, his cheeks ablaze with flaming red.

Minho takes Whisper of the Heart home with him for safekeeping, alongside with Jurassic Park: The Lost World and Princess Mononoke, instructed to watch both DVDs and report back to Jisung like he did with the previous ones.

When Jisung is checking him out at the counter, he makes several typos as he feels Minho’s eyes mapping out his face. He stubbornly keeps his head bowed low, fingers dancing over the keyboard hurriedly. Heat spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, and Jisung prays that he doesn’t drop the DVDs and the cassette on the ground.

Handing Minho his plastic bag, this time he is ready for the cold feeling on his skin when their hands meet. Jisung gathers up the courage to find his eyes, friendly smile coming to him without much effort.

“Thank you, darling.”

It’s a good thing that Minho was already gripping the bag, because otherwise Jisung would have to replace the broken DVDs and explain the reason for his clumsiness to his employer. Being called darling by a cute guy as an excuse for not firing him from his job wouldn’t fly – he is fairly sure of it.

Darling. Darling. Darling.

But… Why does it sound so familiar?

In the same moment Jisung drops his hand and his mouth flies wide open, Minho seems to understand what he actually said out loud. He plays it off better than Jisung, his cheeks getting tinted by a pale pink hue, eyes widening for only a fracture of a second.  

To break the awkward silence, Jisung squeaks out, “I-I’ll see you around!”

Minho smiles sheepishly, giving him a nod as he backs out of the shop. He looks over his shoulder once more before he disappears from view.

The loud bang the impact makes when Jisung’s head connects with the counter can surely be heard all the way across town.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

Jisung almost forgets about his nineteenth birthday the next week.

It’s only when his friends (loud, uncoordinated and drenched in September rain) pile into the shop while singing out of tune that obnoxious song that annoys him more and more with each passing year, does Jisung remember what date today is.

The rental shop is quite empty in this night hour, and it’s only him and Hyunjin on the shift. Chan, Changbin and Seungmin don’t stop singing until they’ve come all the way to the counter, where Hyunjin has to physically restrain him from running to the staff room.

All of Jisung’s friends know he doesn’t particularly like celebrating his birthdays, but that doesn’t mean the meaning of their gesture is lost on him. Jisung stands there, Hyunjin’s hands wrapped around him from the back, trying to suppress his lopsided smile.

It doesn’t work.

“Happy birthday, Jisungie!” They all end their song on various levels of noisiness.

They have all agreed to go out for dinner after his and Hyunjin’s shift is over at nine. Until then, Jisung lets Changbin put on whatever movie he wants on the TV. Chan browses the CD and vinyl section, pulling out bands from shelves that Jisung is sure not even the owner knows about. Seungmin is keeping him and Hyunjin company at the counter, the latest newspapers in hands.

Jisung suddenly remembers the article he read few weeks ago, the day he first met Minho.

“Hey, Minnie,” Jisung starts, trying to sound nonchalant. “You’ve met the new owner of the haunted house, right?”

Seungmin narrows his eyes at him, his expression not unkind, just knowing. He nods in affirmation, waiting for Jisung’s real question.

“How did he look like?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Seungmin gives him a vague answer. “About this tall,” he demonstrates with his hand, “black hair, brown eyes. He looked to be closer to our age, but something about him seemed… off.”

“What do you mean?” Jisung probes.

“Like I wrote in the article. Kinda cagey and… eerie.” Seungmin puffs out air before he asks Jisung in a concerned voice. “You know you really have to stop going there now, right?”

His serious tone has attracted Hyunjin’s attention, their friend abandoning his magazine and stepping closer. He gives Jisung a sympathetic look, propping himself onto the counter.

Breathing in, Jisung resignedly says, “I know. I just… I keep having these weird dreams ever since last Halloween. Like something happened to me, but I can’t remember what it was.”

It’s only the half-truth. Jisung never told them about the golden-brown eyes that haunt him in his sleep. The images of red flashing through his mind, the sensation he feels – almost like if someone was touching him, caressing his skin so gently, but not enough to actually wake him up.

Sometimes the aftermath of his dreams follows him into reality. Jisung wakes up, drenched in sweat, aching hard and hungry for something he can’t even put a name on.

Maybe not exactly something, but he isn’t brave enough to entertain that thought just yet.

“You fell down the stairs, Sung,” Hyunjin supplies. “You were just waking up from unconsciousness when we found you.”

“I know. But why did I fall down the stairs?”

“You are clumsy,” Seungmin states as a fact because, admittedly, being clumsy is one of Jisung’s main attributes.

Opening his mouth, Jisung wants to argue further, but he is interrupted by the sound of the front door being opened. His eyes immediately shift from his friends to the newcomer, his heart picking up speed when he sees the blonde hair, plastered to his face by the downpour that is currently raging outside.

Minho steps into the shop, his plastic bag in hand. He blinks the droplets of water from his eyes, meeting Jisung’s gaze when he looks up. Jisung rushes out from behind the counter when he notices Minho halting his steps, hesitating to come towards him, his eyes on Seungmin’s back.

“Hey, Minho,” Jisung greets him, stopping right in front of him with a dumb grin on his face. He was wondering ever since his shift began this morning if Minho would show up today.

It feels like a sign, but of what, Jisung doesn’t know yet.

Minho mirrors his expression, eyes flicking to the counter for just a second. “Didn’t think it would be so busy here today.”

“Oh, they are not costumers,” Jisung says, throwing a look to Seungmin and Hyunjin who are so failing at pretending that they are not all up in his and Minho’s business. “Just my friends, ambushing me at work.”

“Oh, is something special happening today?” Minho asks, his lips curling into a pretty smile that causes Jisung heart to flutter in his chest, like a pair of butterfly wings.

“Um,” Jisung scratches the back of his neck in nervous manner, “we are going out for dinner later to celebrate my birthday.”

Minho’s whole expression changes for a second, something like a realization passing over his face, but it’s gone faster than it came. His shoulders sag almost imperceptibly, but Jisung notices – it’s like he can predict what Minho is going to do based solely on the way his eyes lose or gain that little spark of theirs.

“I should probably come another time,” is what Minho ends up saying in the end, one corner of his mouth turned up. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends.”

Afraid that Minho might just turn around and leave, Jisung reaches his hand out for him, his fingers catching against the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“But, you are my friend, too, right?” He says softly, hopefully.

There is a long pause before Minho answers him. The silence is nerve-wrecking but, from the way he is looking at him, Jisung doesn’t think Minho is going to tell him that he got their situation – or whatever this is – wrong. They are definitely not nothing, and they both know it.

Minho tilts his head, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Happy birthday, Jisungie.”

Jisungie.

Jisungie.

“Thank you,” Jisung grins, feeling flustered all of a sudden. His eyes stray to the spot where he is still holding Minho by the sleeve of his jacket and slowly lets go. Then, he remembers the movies Minho borrowed last week.

Before he can change his mind, he hurriedly inhales and asks, “What are you doing this Sunday?”

Minho narrows his eyes, but his expression morphs into a one of curiosity. “Nothing yet.”

“The shop closes an hour earlier on Sundays,” Jisung says with a conspiratorial wink. “Come around eight and don’t forget to bring Whisper of the Heart, yeah?”

Chuckling, Minho sends him his own wink, more coquettish than conspiratorial in Jisung’s opinion. It’s a date, then, he almost says but manages to keep his tongue in his mouth this time.

Minho lets Jisung take the plastic bag from him, their fingers meeting briefly. He parts with him by the front door with a wave and a smile that has Jisung’s heart beating out of his ribcage.

It’s only when he is sitting in a booth in their favourite diner, sandwiched between Chan and Changbin with Hyunjin and Seungmin at the opposite side, does he remember that he forgot to ring Minho up. This thought comes and goes just as quickly, but it’s Minho’s sweet smile and golden-brown eyes that remain on his mind the entire night.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

Jisung has been jittery all day.

It didn’t exactly help with his already unfocused mind, his eyes straying every three seconds to the ticking clock mounted on the wall. After he almost sawn off his fingers while opening a cardboard box with newly released LPs, Hyunjin prohibited him from doing any more dangerous work that could involve sharp or pointy tools.

He even took over the task of reshelving, putting Jisung on customer and cashier duty. That’s how Jisung ended up with his head propped on his hand on the counter, his leg bouncing restlessly while willing the clock to speed up (when a wave of excitement came over him) or to go backwards (when his mind reminded him that he is going to be spending alone time with Minho which filled him with dread), or to stop completely (when the nerves and anticipation mixed into one big unsteady emotion).

Nearing closing time now, Jisung is pacing behind the counter. The shop is empty save for him and Hyunjin who is packing his things in the staff room. He didn’t tell his friend that Minho was coming here tonight, but he didn’t have to; Hyunjin sniffed him out the first thing in the morning when Jisung couldn’t stop picking at his nails, his voice clipped.

“Okay, I’ll be off,” Hyunjin says as he saunters towards the counter. “Enjoy your date with a hot stranger and don’t forget to use protection!”

Jisung dignifies his response with a groan. Hyunjin knows every detail about his non-existent sex life, but he still can’t help to poke his ego anyway. His friend walks away with an encouraging smile on his face and airy kiss that he sends back to him before the front door closes and he is out of sight.

When the clock finally strikes eight p.m., Jisung turns off all the big lights, leaving on a small lamp standing near the computer. He leaves the front door unlocked while he goes into the staff room to change into his normal clothes, spritzing his favourite floral perfume on his wrists, dabbing it onto the side of his neck.

Felling more like himself now, he takes a deep breath and steadies his heart on the exhale. His fingers stop trembling, and what he feels now is definitely excitement more than anything else. There is still little anxiety on the side, but nothing he can’t handle.

Or so he thinks before he hears the bell ring, followed by a quiet, “Jisung? Are you here?”

He can’t help but stutter a bit when he shouts back. “Y-yeah, coming!”

Minho is standing by the counter when Jisung rushes from the back into the shop, his eyes glimmering in the lamp’s light like the night sky above. He is wearing the same brown jacket as the last time he was here, gripping the cassette in his right hand. Putting on that soft smile of his when their eyes meet, Jisung wishes the clock would stop for real so he could ogle him as long as he wants to.

Which, to be honest, could easily be all night.

“Hey,” Jisung says quietly, as if afraid that Minho might not be real, but some kind of hallucination, a pipe dream. He clears his throat when Minho’s smile widens, blinking out of his stupor. “Ready to be absolutely wrecked by a kids’ movie?”

Minho crosses the distance between them, standing face to face now. Jisung realizes that he is only a few inches taller than him, thinking that if he stood up on his tippy-toes, they would be at an eye level.

“Lead the way,” Minho says with a grin.

They make camp in one of the rental rooms where Jisung knows the security camera doesn’t work. He prepared some snacks in advance, brought soda and few bags of potato chips from his house. Some blankets and cushions to make it cozier, too.

Taking the cassette from him, Jisung turns the TV on and puts it into the slot. Whirring sounds start coming from the machine, the screen lighting up with the movie’s menu. Jisung takes the remote from the small conference table, his finger on the button about to hit play.

“Um, before we watch the movie,” he hears Minho’s voice coming from behind him. Jisung turns around, definitely not expecting him to look shy all of a sudden. “I have something that I want to give you for your birthday, even though I’m late.”

Plopping himself down onto the couch, Jisung makes sure to leave a casual distance between them. One leg folded under him, he eyes the little pink box, its lid decorated with a green bow that Minho takes out from his pocket. Jisung can’t help but tilt his head to the side, feeling a horrendous blush creeping on his cheeks.

“You didn’t have to get me a gift, Minho, really.”

Until now, Minho’s eyes have been glued to the little box in his palm, but he looks up to catch Jisung’s gaze when he speaks. “I know. But I wanted to.”

Jisung’s heart misses a few beats before it restarts itself completely. Minho’s fingers are warm tonight, so soft where they meet with Jisung’s when he takes the box from him. The touch is light, but it’s enough for him to wish Minho would linger just a tad bit longer.

“Wow,” Jisung voices his awe when he takes off the lid.

On the velvety cushion, there is a perfectly crafted stone worked into a leather bracelet. Carefully, Jisung takes it out of the box, inspecting the glistening crystal closer.

“It’s a cut moonstone,” Minho whispers by his side. “It’s supposed to ward off any danger somebody might wish upon you. I read that it should also work against malevolent spirits and enchantments.”

Indeed, the round stone looks like a lot smaller version of the full moon illuminating the night sky. It’s cold to the touch when Jisung puts it on his left wrist, tightening the laces. Feeling Minho’s eyes on his hand, he places it between them, showing off his new bracelet in the dim light of the TV screen.

“It’s beautiful,” he says when he looks up to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Minho, I like it so much.

Right now, Jisung wishes that he could capture this moment on a camera. Minho’s smile brightens the room, his head tilting just a bit to the left, as if watching something precious. Blonde strands falling into his eyes, Jisung is just one intrusive thought away from pulling him in by his t-shirt and kissing him fully on the mouth.

And with the way Minho is looking back at him, it’s hard not to think that the same thought is running through his mind, too.

Jisung starts to lean in, moving so carefully it feels like he is in a slow-motion. Minho’s eyes are focused on his, unblinking and warm. He moves the hand lying between them to briefly graze over Minho’s clothed thigh, watching him draw in a sharp breath.

The moment his eyes stray down to his lips, Minho straightens up, causing Jisung to retreat with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

Reaching his hand out for the remote, Minho asks him with a casual smile, “Should we play the movie now?”

Nodding his head, Jisung is too afraid to speak out loud in case his voice comes out all choked. He shoots Minho a tense smile when the other sits back down, his eyes now glued to the screen in front of them.

To Jisung’s surprise, after few initial minutes of squirming on the couch, the silence grows comfortable, every trace of his awkwardness dissolved into the air (or so he hopes). Minho even starts dropping little comments throughout the movie, his chuckles so cute that Jisung has a hard time stopping himself from telling him so.

Christ, what is going on with him tonight?

The bracelet, Minho’s sweet laugh and sweeter words… It must all mean something, right? Jisung gets lost inside his head thinking about why would Minho do this in the first place – why would he come a second time into the store if not to try and get closer with him? Surely, Jisung’s movie recommendations can’t be that good.

Maybe Minho just isn’t sure if Jisung is into him, which sounds improbable, because Jisung has never been more obvious in his life. The way Hyunjin saw through him right away this morning is a prime example.

So, Jisung comes up with what he deems a foolproof plan.

Under the guise of making himself more comfortable on his seat, he folds both of his legs under him, accidentally bumping Minho in his knee in the process. He whispers an apology, at which Minho shoots him a smile and a wink before he turns his attention back to the movie.

When that doesn’t work, Jisung starts fiddling with a loose thread on his jeans, the back of his hand almost entirely pressed to Minho’s leg. His eyes flick between the TV and Minho’s face, paying only half his attention to what is happening on the screen.

“Jisung-ah,” Minho enunciates his name slowly as he puts his palm over the back of his restless hand, “everything okay?”

Now or never, Jisung thinks as he meets Minho’s searching eyes.

Nodding his head, Jisung’s lips part as he carefully turns his hand. He caresses the tender skin on the back of Minho’s palm with his thumb, intertwining their fingers lightly with enough room for him to pull away while Jisung watches for his reaction.

Looking down to where Jisung is holding his hand, Minho doesn’t say anything for a long while. For a moment, it even looks like he forgot to breathe with the way how still and motionless his body is, eyes unblinking. Jisung’s heart begins to beat faster, afraid that this is not the good sign he has been hoping for.

When Jisung panically begins to pull away, Minho stops him by squeezing his hand once before he lets go of him entirely. His voice comes out strained, his eyes almost glassy when he speaks.

“I’m very sorry, Jisung, but I…,” he trails off for a second, but Jisung doesn’t need to hear the rest to recognize the beginning of his rejection. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Jisung voices out loud, unable to react in any other way. He is stunned, speechless – he really thought that there was something more between them. That Minho felt it, too.

His eyes slip down to his hand lying on the couch, feeling the telltale signs of shame creeping into the pit of his stomach. It doesn’t help when Minho’s voice softens to a mere whisper.

“Please, Jisungie, don’t feel bad,” he sooths him like he knows exactly what is running through his mind, what feeling is poisoning his body. “I just… I thought that we could get closer… as friends.”

Jisung’s eyes sting, but he is proud that he doesn’t start crying. He resists the urge to rub his palms into them, instead taking a big steading breath. He promises himself to sound even when he opens his mouth on the exhale.

“It’s okay, really.” It’s not. “I should be the one apologizing,” he chuckles humourlessly, then clears his throat, tone regretful. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” Minho retorts without hesitation, something in his voice making Jisung brave enough to look at him again.

His expression is gentle, so much that Jisung’s heart burns in his chest. He is closer now, too, and Jisung hates the way it makes that smouldering spark in his core shine brighter despite just being washed over by an icy cold tsunami wave.

Minho was clear with him. He wants for them to get closer, just not in the way Jisung was picturing.

“Do you still want to be friends with me?” Jisung asks around a big lump in his throat.

Minho grins wide at him, even though there is something behind his eyes that Jisung doesn’t know how to name. He can’t unsee it no matter how many times he looks away and back. It’s still there, giving Jisung the feeling that it’s holding Minho back.  

From what exactly, he is not sure.

“I would love that.”

After that, they slip into surprising comfortability. When Jisung relaxes and lets his mind focus only on the movie and Minho’s commentary, everything falls into place. He laughs effortlessly at Minho’s jokes and vice versa, he lets his bent knee touch his without overthinking. By the end of the night, the shame is replaced by warmth he hasn’t felt in so long it feels almost like he has found something that was missing from him – something he didn’t even know about.

Maybe he can do this after all – being friends with Minho without thinking about him in a way that makes his cheeks flush, his heart beat faster. Totally platonic way.

When they say their goodnights in front of the closed shop, Minho’s parting smile has Jisung skipping down the street, all the way to his house. Later, when he is snug as a bug in his bed, his soft eyes follow him into his dreams, but they are not golden-brown.

When dream Minho looks at him, they glow red in the candlelight.

And still, it’s the most beautiful pair of eyes Jisung has ever seen.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

Over the next few weeks, Jisung’s (completely platonic) feelings for Minho grow like a vine around his heart, blooming at any stray touch or a stare lingering just a second too long to pass as innocent.  

It’s completely normal, Jisung is telling himself while he stacks the shelves in the Horror section where they first met. It’s nothing out of the ordinary that the sound of the doorbell has him dropping everything to poke his head above the rows to see if Minho hasn’t come in by any chance. It’s expected that he is going to feel excited about his new friend stopping by to see him.

Right?

“No, it’s not normal, Sung,” Hyunjin told him with his serious face on when Jisung was lamenting out loud few days ago. “You still like him, but there is nothing wrong with that if you just accept it for what it is.”

Hyunjin’s “words of wisdom” (his phrasing, not Jisung’s) are the reason why he is currently developing a strong liking towards self-talk. There is no one to tell him that he is wrong about his very friendship-like feelings towards Minho.

To keep his mind sane, he has developed a mental check-list he goes back to anytime he needs to ground himself.

It goes like this:

Jisung and Minho are friends.

True.

He is still dreaming about Minho every night.

True, but friends can dream about each other – nothing wrong with that.

Minho’s casual touches make his heart race.

True, but maybe he has been developing a heart condition all this time. He should probably get it checked.

Minho calling him by–

“Jisungie? Are you here?”

When he hears his soft voice coming from few aisles over, Jisung gets up from the floor so fast he hits his head against the top shelf. Groaning, he rubs the sore spot while he calls back to Minho.

“Here you are,” the other says in lieu of greeting, one corner of his mouth turned up.

The October sun filtering through the front windows creates a halo over his mess of blonde hair, his sunglasses sticking out of it. Since their first movie-watching session, Minho has been stopping by almost every day; when he is in town on a run for some errands, has a movie to return, or when he just wants to, even though he never admits the last part out loud.

But Jisung knows, because when he asks him about it, Minho’s glowing red eras give him away. He is a terrible liar, and Jisung likes that about him.

“What brings you here today?”

Minho leans on one of the shelves, sparks dancing in his eyes.

“I was just passing by and remembered our movie night this Friday. It’s your pick this time – have you thought about anything yet?”

About to nod his confirmation, Jisung halts, eyes widening comically when he remembers what date falls on Friday. He is ashamed to admit that he almost forgot Halloween is around the corner because of how busy he has been lately – between his job, his friends and Minho, he had little time to think of anything else.

He totally forgot about the Halloween tradition.

“Shit,” Jisung curses, proceeding to profoundly apologize for his profanity to a laughing Minho.

“From the look on your face, I take it as that you won’t be able to make it this time,” he says, his face still adorably crinkled with laughter.

Jisung takes a second look at him – he knows he is stealing those kinds of glances that tiptoe on the line of friendship and something else, but he can’t help it, and maybe he doesn’t really want to. Minho is beautiful when he stops guarding his every word and lets himself just be.

It’s rare, even after the few weeks they have been friends, the nights they spent watching movies on that shitty TV in one of the rental rooms.

Minho fascinates him more with each passing day, like a puzzle he can’t seem to put together even though the referential picture is right in front of his eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Minho. I totally forgot it’s Halloween.”

The careful look on his face is back the moment Jisung finishes his sentence, his posture straightening. Minho’s eyes darken, still golden-brown but unreadable, his lips in a thin line.

“Do you have something planned?”

Jisung tells him about the tradition – him and his friends at his house, his parents gone for the night visiting the relatives. Mountains of junk food and beer, Jisung’s favourite slashers and stupid drinking games.

His heart aches when Minho’s expression morphs into a pleasant one as he listens to his rambling. Jisung wonders if Minho has any friends that he could spend Halloween with instead of their movie night.

Then, a lightbulb flickers over his head.

“Would you want to come?” Jisung asks shyly but with a spark of excitement, knowing that meeting each other outside of this little shop is something they have never done before or talked about. “I would love to have you there,” he adds when Minho starts playing with his hands, a sign of nervosity Jisung knows all too well.

“I don’t know, Jisungie…,” he trails off, staring at the rows upon rows of horror movies to his right, unsure. “Your friends don’t know me.”

“Hyunjin knows you,” Jisung supplies with what he hopes is a convincing grin.

Chuckling, Minho unglues his eyes and meets Jisung’s, his expression conflicted. Carefully taking two steps towards him, Jisung stops just few inches away, just close enough to touch him if he wanted to. He smiles, knowing that Minho is going to have a hard time resisting to his puppy dog eyes.

“You can bring your roommate, if you want to,” he offers, the feeling of victory slowly creeping into his veins when he sees Minho crack just the tiniest bit. “Please?”

As Jisung predicted, in the end, even Minho can’t withstand the power of his pleading gaze. He breaks right on the second Please? Jisung hits him with, knowing he must look ridiculous with his doe eyes and pouting mouth. But he doesn’t care that much, because Minho is nodding, averting his eyes when a faint blush covers his cheeks.

“Fine,” he huffs out, faking his annoyed tone. “Tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

Jisung leads him to the vacant counter where he grabs a block of Post-it notes and a pen. He scribbles down his address, writing the time and the date next to it, just so Minho doesn’t forget. Next to his initials, he draws a little stick figure of a cat, wanting to keep him here for himself just a bit longer.

And because Jisung knows that the silly little picture is going to give him that pretty smile of his.

“Don’t lose it,” he says with fake-seriousness when he hands Minho the sticky note.

Beautiful grin spreads over his face as he scans the paper, making a show of pocketing it into his leather jacket. “I promise I won’t.”

Jisung is starting to think that this Friday is going to be the best Halloween night yet.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

Few days later, when Minho appears at Jisung’s doorstep around six p.m., there is a blonde, fairy-looking guy standing by his side, his smile just as bright as the galaxies in his eyes.

“Jisungie,” Minho greets him with a smile of his own. “This is my friend, Felix.”

Jisung almost doesn’t catch Minho’s friend’s name, his brain rebooting after hearing the pet name coming out of his mouth so easily, in front of someone he doesn’t even know. He remembers to blink his eyes when Minho gestures towards Felix, the other looking like he has just won a jackpot by coming to his house.

“Hi, Jisungie,” he beams as he reaches his hand out to shake Jisung’s, no ounce of shyness in his body apparently. “I’m thrilled I get to finally meet you! Minho has been talking about you so much–”

“Okay, I think you’ve introduced yourself enough,” Minho interrupts him, his smile becoming a little bit forced, teeth gritted. He pushes Felix forward, past Jisung whose mouth has fallen all the way down to the floor.

Clearing his throat, he greets Felix too, letting the other pass through the door and inside the house. Minho steps over the threshold, stopping just a breath away.

“I’m sorry for him,” he apologizes. “Felix can be a lot for someone who isn’t used to him.”

“No need to be sorry,” Jisung chuckles, hearing the commotion coming from inside the house where Felix must have found the rest of his friends. “I like him already.”

They share a grin, Jisung stepping to the side to let Minho pass through the door. When he shuts it behind him, his hand automatically finds its way to the moonstone bracelet he has been wearing every day, sometimes even to bed, since their first movie night.

It’s weight on his wrist has become a comfortable constant – just like the resulting smile on Minho’s lips whenever their eyes meet.

With Minho on his heels, Jisung leads them into the living room. There, on the L shaped sofa, sit Chan and Changin, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open just like Jisung’s did just few moments ago. They don’t seem to register his and Minho’s presence, utterly captivated by Felix leaning over the backrest of the couch, every ounce of their attention on the blonde.

“Ehm, so,” Jisung starts, turning to Minho standing next to him, “these are my older friends, Chan and Changbin, but I don’t think that either of them is with us right now.”

Chuckling, Minho says, “Lix tends to have that effect on people, it’s fine.”

Moving to the kitchen, they find Hyunjin and Seungmin standing by the counter, preparing the snacks they brought onto a big platter. Facing away from them, their sides are pressed into each other, a hushed conversation going back and forth. When Jisung speaks up, they jump almost a mile apart, looking like deer caught in headlights.  

Mischievous smile spreading over his face, Jisung announces to Minho, “And here is the rest of my friends. Of course, you already know Hyunjin,” the man in question raises his hand in a little wave, his smile a bit awkward, “and that standing on the other side of the kitchen red like a tomato is Seungmin.”

He hears Minho supressing his chuckles, so adorable Jisung misses the scathing look on Hyunjin’s sour face.

“Everyone, this is Minho.”

After the initial introduction, everyone settles down in the living room; Chan, Changbin and Felix on the couch, the latter sitting in the middle enjoying their attention. Hyunjin and Seungmin snuggle on the reclining chair, the pair occasionally sending Jisung glaring stares, to which he responds by sending an airy kiss. Their bickering is harmless, and Jisung knows that by the end of the night, Hyunjin is going to be sending him his own airy kisses back.

Seungmin, though, he is not so sure. At least not before he executes his vengeance, which could come in any form, Jisung ponders as uneasiness starts creeping into his mind.

Minho is sitting on the plush carpet, his back leaned on the conference table. There is an untouched bowl of popcorn by his side, his knees pulled up to his chest. Jisung thinks he has never looked more cozier than this, so soft and squishy. Sitting surrounded by Jisung’s friends, Minho looks like he belongs exactly where he is.

“Okay,” Jisung announces, pushing the DVD into the slot, “is everyone ready to place their bets on who the killer, or killers, are this time?”

A cacophony of groans comes back as his answer.

“Just push it in already, Sung!”

“Hah, top ten things Minho is going to say on their–”

“Can someone go turn off the lights?”

“Why don’t you go?”

“Kids–”

Before that can escalate any further, Jisung grabs the remote and hits play. The title Scream 2 flashes on the screen, finally rendering everyone silent. Jisung takes the front seat next to where Minho is sitting, scooching up to him so that he can rest his back on the conference table, too. Minho hands him the popcorn, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Their shoulders rub against each other anytime Jisung reaches for the popcorn. It’s gentle, like an almost-there touch, but it’s distracting enough. He loses the main point of the movie not even twenty minutes in, but still winces at the jumpscares, gasping when the killer(s) appear on the screen.

“Are you scared, Jisungie?” Minho whispers to him, so close it makes his skin shiver.

Maybe it’s because of the adrenaline rush, the risky undertone of the gesture. Or maybe the sugar he has consumed finally caught up with his brain, but Jisung decides to be bold. He turns his head to Minho, voice dropping an octave lower.

“If I say I’m,” he starts, licking his lips and watching Minho’s eyes drop down when he registers the movement, “will you hold my hand?”

“Smooth,” Minho snorts in response, eyes rolling up playfully.

Jisung turns back to the TV screen, pretending that his heart just didn’t earn another crack. But when something cold lays over the back of his hand, his breath hitches in his throat, Minho’s fingers softly playing with his where Jisung’s hand lies between them on the carpet.

He swears he could die happy right now.

Minho doesn’t shy away from the touch even when the others start placing their bets on who the killer might be this time. And even if Jisung was busy with unsuspiciously flirting with Minho at the start of the movie, he knows the prequel well enough to pinpoint the most likely suspect.

“I bet it’s the boyfriend,” Hyunjin states, earning a contemplating hum from everyone besides Jisung.

“Jinnie, who would make the killer be her boyfriend twice in a row?”

“I don’t know! He seems suspicious enough, that’s all.”

One after the other, they all place their bets. Seungmin chooses the best friend, Felix the sleazy man wrongly accused of murder, Chan and Changbin go with a character that is killed not even five minutes later. When it comes to Minho to choose his suspect, he hums out loud, drawing patterns into Jisung’s skin with his thumb.

“I think it could be the guy from the Film Theory class we saw at the start. Seems fitting,” he shrugs, looking at Jisung.

“I don’t think it’s going to be someone from the students this time,” Jisung ponders, locking eyes with Minho. His hand has gotten warmer, his touch still soft where he caresses the back of his palm. “I think it’s an adult character. Maybe a reporter, but definitely not Gale.”

Minho’s face is unreadable, but Jisung knows he has his undiluted attention. His lips parted and glossy, Jisung has a hard time resisting the urge to lean closer and get a taste of him. Seems like his totally platonic feelings are getting a bit out of hand this evening.

He clears his throat and turns back to the TV before Minho notices the blush on his cheeks. His heart picks up speed, and somehow, as if Minho could tell what’s happening, he stops moving his fingers, lying his palm flatly over his hand, digits slipping between his. Jisung doesn’t dare to try and intertwine them this time, greedily taking everything Minho is willing to give him.

The touch is comforting all the same; Jisung can feel his body relax as the movie plays and another character gets killed off – this time the best friend Seungmin was betting on. With three out of seven of them out of the bet, Hyunjin calls for their ultimate decisions.

“I’m sticking with the boyfriend.”

“I think it’s that Cotton guy,” Felix chimes in.

Minho tilts his head back, looking at the others sitting on the couch and the recliner. “I think it’s Mickey.”

“What about you, Sung?”

In the end, Jisung decides to go with Gale’s cameraman. He is suspicious enough, deciding to leave almost right after the murders start. They all place their final bets, watching the rest of the movie unfold before them.

The whole time it takes for the killers to be revealed, Minho’s hand is a constant presence on his. He even starts playing with the laces of Jisung’s bracelet, his eyes boring into the TV, holding back his breath with anticipation.

Jisung doesn’t even regret his loss when one of the killers turns out to be Minho’s pick, the other being the mother of Billy Loomis from the prequel, disguising herself as sycophant reporter. Minho looks breathtaking with that winning smile, pure happiness oozing from his expression when everyone else whistles and congratulates him.

Jisung almost gets jealous that everyone else is here to see him like this. The usually reserved Minho, smiling wide and bright, all attention on him. He high-fives Felix, his friend’s grin equally rivalling Minho’s. But when he catches Jisung’s eyes, his undeniable pout, he makes his heart surrender with just one word.

“I’m sorry you lost, darling. Your guess was so close, too.”

Darling.

Darling.

Fuck.

“Nah, I’m happy you won, Min, really,” Jisung whispers, the world becoming a slow-motion shot. Minho’s expression is nothing short of magical, the crinkled skin around his eyes making him look so young and carefree.

He is out-of-this-world kind of beautiful. That kind that has Jisung feeling almost unworthy of gazing at.

Minho doesn’t respond – instead, he gets up from the carpet, outstretching his hand for Jisung. Helping him to his feet, Minho doesn’t drop his hand afterwards when they all pile into the kitchen to order pizza from the boys’ favourite diner, keeping him close by his side.

And really, this is even better than winning any stupid bet, Jisung thinks smugly to himself.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

Seungmin’s revenge comes sometime later, while they are playing spin the bottle.

After stuffing themselves full of pizza, or at least the six of them – Minho’s lactose intolerance not coming in handy tonight – they push the conference table to the side and sit down in a circle.

As the winner of their guessing game, they let Minho choose the first activity of the night, but because he doesn’t really know any, he tells Jisung to choose for him. So, now, when Jisung looks back on his decision, he really should have seen it coming when he grabbed that empty bottle of Coke and didn’t find a single thought that would tell him that it was a bad idea.

Instead of kissing, they modify the game with truth or dare questions, mainly to get to know Minho and Felix better. The first few spins are warm-up rounds, with everyone safely choosing truth. But, as it turns out, not even the seemingly harmless option is safe for Jisung. Not when the one asking is Kim Seungmin, lips curled and his expression straight up devilish.

“Jisung-ah,” his friend calls after him when the neck of the bottle points his way. “Out of all of us sitting here, who would you rather to kiss?”

Jisung tenses immediately, straightening his back like a ruler. Sitting next to him, Minho averts his eyes down to his lap, going perfectly still.

He can always lie, Jisung foolishly tells himself, but, in the end, he knows that it would be to no use anyway. All of his friends know how he feels about Minho, even though he tries to tell himself that his feelings don’t stem from his heart; that they don’t consume his whole soul day and night alike.

And somehow, when Jisung catches Felix’s gaze, the boy sitting across from him, he has a feeling that Minho’s friend would see right through him as well.

So, he resorts to the only other option there is, besides spilling his guts out onto the cream-coloured carpet and slowly bleeding out.

“I’ll take the punishment,” he says, his cheeks ablaze as the others start booing at him. Everyone except for Minho, who is still avoiding looking at his face.

“Fine,” Seungmin snorts, handing him a can of beer and Changbin’s Swiss knife. “Drink up.”

Jisung gets up to his feet, making a small indent into the can from the side. Just before the appalling fluid can leak through, he presses it to his lips, chugging it down as fast as possible. The boos morph into cheers as Jisung closes his eyes, his throat bobbing while swallowing all of the awfully-tasting beer.

He doesn’t think he will ever understand how Chan and Changbin can enjoy drinking something like this.

After he sucks out the last drop, Jisung crushes the can and throws it into Seungmin’s lap as a proof. Before he sits back down, he reaches for the candy platter on the conference table, popping three chocolate bonbons into his mouth to get rid of that nasty taste.

His gaze slips from Seungmin to Minho, whose eyes are as unreadable as his face. There is no way he can’t know, Jisung thinks when he reclaims his seat next to him, bumping their knees in the process. When Minho doesn’t pull away at the touch, Jisung chances a glance at him.

He is playing with his hands, but when he notices Jisung’s eyes on him, he slowly turns his head to the side. Jisung shoots him a small smile, feeling relief washing over him when Minho reciprocates.

They keep spinning the bottle until everyone slowly gets bored and they switch to other drinking games. As the night progresses, everyone, save for Minho and Jisung, get drunker and drunker with each empty beer can and downed shot of liquor.

Jisung has to admit that it’s nice – not having to be the only one sober when his friends are trying to test the endurance of their livers and stomachs.

Minho is grinning now, listening to some story Felix is telling them in a very drunken fashion, his hands turning into a windmill around his head. And Jisung would be grinning, too, if he wasn’t busy with admiring the boy sitting next to him. His long lashes, the beauty mark on the tip of his nose. His golden-brown eyes shine under the chandelier’s light, as if it was the night sky reflecting in them.

“What are you staring at, hm?” Minho breaks him out of his stupor, teasing smirk on his face.

“You.”

The confession is out of his mouth before he can stop himself or even think about his response. Jisung is about to laugh it off with some poor joke, but when Minho bumps into his shoulder with a coquettish wink, he lets himself lean into the touch. He grins at Minho, his heart rabbiting in his chest when he doesn’t pull back.

Their hands find each other again, but this time, it’s more playful than before. Jisung stops registering their surroundings, scooching closer even more until their sides are tightly pressed. Touching from shoulders down, Jisung belatedly realizes that Minho is still cold even through the material of his clothes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, not trying to cover up the trace of concern in his voice. “You are still cold.”

The light dims in Minho’s eyes, his smile falling almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, I’m just getting a bit hungry.”

“We can order you something,” Jisung rushes to offer, “or I can throw you together some ramen if you’d like. Or if you want a blanket–”

At that, one of Minho’s eyebrows raises up. “You can cook, Jisungie?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Minho huffs out, “You just seem like the type that would forget to add water to his pasta and burn the whole house down.”

Trying to save at least a bit of his dignity, Jisung’s mouth falls wide open, exaggerating his offense. “Okay, you can starve, then.”

He is petulant, his hands crossed over his chest, lips pouty. It works on Minho, though, because the other leans into his space, his head so close that if Jisung turns just slightly to the left, their noses will brush.

There is a nagging thought in his head that begs him to let it happen.

“Aww, my Jisungie, don’t be upset with me,” Minho coos, making a blush creep to Jisung’s neck. Minho’s breath is also cold, but the shivers that run down his spine have more to do with the possessive connotation and the pet name than anything else.

Jisungie.

My Jisungie.

For what it’s worth, Jisung was at least partially right – this is the best and the worst Halloween night ever.

When he turns his head slightly, he meets Minho’s shimmering eyes, his pupils so dark he could drown in them. There is a playful smirk on his lips, just a breath away from Jisung’s own. He can almost taste him on his tongue.

Jisung can only picture what would happen next if it wasn’t for a sudden yawp coming from somewhere on the other side of the circle. Swiftly turning to the source, Jisung finds Felix, one of his hands lying over his stomach, his face deathly pale. When Minho registers what’s happening, he rushes to get up from the floor and to his friend.

“Oh, Lix, come here,” he whispers soothingly, hauling Felix up to his feet and asking Jisung for the directions to the bathroom.

Jisung points to the hallway, tells him it’s the third door on the left. Minho shoots him an apologetic smile, saying, “He usually can’t hold this kind of alcohol very well, we’ll be back in a few.”

Everyone watches them go with concern written on their faces. After they hear the bathroom door swing shut behind them, Jisung springs to his feet, announcing that the rest of them will be put on water diet for the duration of the night. He starts collecting the half-empty cans of beer, listening to the cacophony of disgruntled protests.

To Jisung’s surprise, Hyunjin, although a bit tipsy, gets up from where he is sitting in Seungmin’s lap and lends a helping hand. They carry the garbage into the kitchen, emptying beer cans into the sink before discarding them with the rest into the bin. His friend is suspiciously quiet the whole time, except for an occasional hiccup.

“I can do the rest myself, Hyunjin-ah, you can go back to the others,” Jisung says as he takes out the water jug from the cabinet, filling it up to the brim with water.

Hopping up onto the counter, Hyunjin swings his legs in the air. “I won’t bush around the beat,” he starts, his expression thoughtful after the words leave his mouth. “Scratch that. Anyway, it’s obvious that Minho likes you.”

Jisung’s heart stutters, and it takes him a moment to reboot his brain and retort, “He doesn’t, Jin. He said he isn’t looking for a relationship.”

“Not looking for a relationship and not liking someone are two vastly different things,” his friend points out with two fingers raised in the air. “So, either he is playing with you, which, in that case, fuck him, or… he likes you for real and just needs a little push in the right direction. Or maybe shove.”

“Oh, and how would you know that he likes me, hm?” Jisung questions, not wanting to get his hopes up just from Hyunjin’s drunken babbling.

Scoffing, Hyunjin leans closer and wiggles his eyebrows in a wave, “The eyes, Chico, they never lie.”

“Are you seriously quoting Scarface to me?”

Hyunjin sends him an obnoxious wink before he hops down from the counter, headed back to the living room. On his way out of the kitchen, he stops to lean onto the doorframe, his expression serene.

“I mean it, Jisungie. Everyone with functioning eyes and their mother can see it.”

With that last remark, he is gone, leaving Jisung to deal with this new can of worms he opened on his own.

As he is taking out several glasses from the upper cabinets, Jisung shoves all thoughts of Minho in the back of his mind. He can unpack whatever is hiding there later at night, when he is going to be rolling around in bed and taking apart this evening and every touch of Minho’s hand on his.

He puts the full jug and the glasses on a tray, heading for the living room. Minho and Felix are already back from the bathroom, both looking quite a bit pale now. Jisung sets the tray down just as Minho points to his landline mounted to the wall, “Jisungie, can I use your phone to call a taxi?”

Nodding, Jisung takes over for Minho, propping Felix’s limp body on his shoulder. The latter huffs into his neck, his words almost incomprehensible.

“T-Thank you, Sungie, it was so much f-fun.”

Something clenches around his heart at hearing the sincere tone in his voice. Jisung tilts his head and props his chin on the blonde’s head. “I’m glad you came, Lix.”

There are little chuckles, and then, “M-Minho has been so happy since you guys started h-hanging out.”

Jisung smiles into his hair, not keen on anyone noticing his feelings for Minho surfacing up on his face.

“I’m happy, too.”

At that, Felix tilts his head up, grinning beautifully. It’s like the first ray of sunshine after a pouring rain, the first wave of warmth that comes with it.

“Okay, the taxi should be here in a minute,” Minho announces, wrapping his hand around Felix to help him stand. “We better go wait outside, get in some fresh air.”

Jisung nods, already following them into the entryway. “I’ll go with you.”

But before he can disappear from their view, Jisung shouts back at the rest of his friends.

“I want to see you all hydrated before I come back!”

Closing the front door behind him, Jisung puts an end to the uproar of protests coming from the living room. The October cold chills him to the bone, having him instinctively wrap his hands around himself to retain as much of his body heat as he can.

Standing in the Han’s driveway, Felix tries to persuade Minho that he is capable of standing on his own, failing to prove his words when he starts wobbling on his feet when his friend lets go of him. Jisung rushes to catch him, but Minho is faster – indeed, it all happened so fast Jisung didn’t even manage to notice his movements.

Shivers run down his spine, but he thinks his body isn’t reacting to the cold this time. He comes to stand close to the two, eyes flicking from Minho to Felix. Just when he is about to open his mouth, Jisung hears the blaring horn of the taxi, coming to a stop at the end of the driveway.

“Alright, let’s get you home, Lix,” Minho says as he ushers his friend to the car, opening the door for him. He instructs the driver and hands him few paper bills from his pocket.

Felix waves his hand at them, his forehead plastered to the window, smile wide. Before he can disappear from view, he wiggles his eyebrows at them, making Jisung chuckle. Minho only sighs, undeniably used to Felix’s drunken shenanigans.

The car drives of down the street as Minho makes his way back to where Jisung is standing, his teeth chattering. The freezing cold leaves his mind when Minho flashes a guilty grin, hand raking through his hair. “I should have watched him more. I didn’t think Felix would want to drink so much tonight.”

“He is going to be fine, Min. Besides,” Jisung adds, realizing how close they are standing, “he looked like he had a lot of fun.”

Minho nods, his eyes sparkling where they meet Jisung’s. “I did, too.”

Silence falls over them, but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. It’s the first moment of the night when it’s just the two of them alone, and Jisung can’t help but think back to the living room, how Minho held his hand because he was scared. How he searched for his hand just to touch him again throughout the evening.

How every gentle caress ignited him, left him longing for more. Now, standing outside of the house, Jisung isn’t sure if the rules stayed the same – if he can touch Minho again and get away with it.

“I’m really happy you came tonight,” he says instead, shuffling his feet on the ground. “I haven’t seen Chan and Changbin so smitten with anyone, like, maybe ever.”

Minho smiles with his teeth, the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Thank you for inviting me, Jisungie.”

There is no reason they should still be out here in the cold, standing in the middle of the driveway when all of their friends are inside, continuing on with the party without them. But, even though his fingers have turned into little icicles, Jisung finds that he doesn’t want to go back.

All he wants to do is lean forward, finally satiating his curiosity of needing to know if Minho’s lips are as soft as they appear to be. As soft as his words, when he is calling him by his name.

It’s then that Jisung feels something cold land on the apple of his cheek, startling him out of his thoughts. He reaches out his hand to swat at his face, but Minho is quicker. Gentle fingers touch his skin, his palm cradling his face.

“It’s a snowflake,” Minho whispers entranced, rubbing his thumb over the spot in little circles. “It’s melting fast.”

The softness of his voice makes Jisung’s heartbeat quicken, rushing new, warm blood into his face. He feels himself blush under Minho’s hand, the contrast of his cold palm on his feverish skin. Averting his gaze from his cheek, Minho meets Jisung’s eyes.

If Jisung was in a movie, he thinks that this is the scene where the main character would say fuck it and risk it all, pull his love interest closer and kiss them senseless. Having been kissed exactly zero times in his life, Jisung has always imagined what his first time would be like when he watched rom-coms on the TV.

Now, he has come dangerously close to finding out. But… can he risk it all?

Can he risk that Minho won’t reciprocate?

Jisung lays his hand atop Minho’s. “You are still cold.”

Minho doesn’t seem to register the meaning of his words as his eyes start flicking all over his face while more snowflakes come landing onto his skin. They land in Minho’s hair, too, but they don’t melt nearly as fast.

“And you are beautiful.”

Jisung can’t help the shy smile that creeps onto his face, feeling wetness behind his eyes. The way Minho is looking at him, so tenderly like he could melt away, too, and disappear from him any moment. With the way he is caressing him, his thumb catching on his bottom lip, it really looks like he just might.

In the next moment, Jisung’s body decides for his brain. He leans forward, the tips of his shoes meeting Minho’s. He watches his breath coming out in little white clouds, eyes glued to the pink plush lips. Jisung swallows thickly, letting his mouth part when the tip of Minho’s nose brushes against his.

“Jisungie,” Minho breaths out like a prayer. “My sweetheart.”

He can’t take it anymore, not when Minho’s words come out in a quivering voice. Jisung closes his eyes, and decides to lead with his heart. Their foreheads meet, and the first touch of Minho’s lips against his feels like a gold rush. When he comes back for more, catching Minho’s bottom lip between his own, it feels like an epiphany.

Jisung draws in a sharp breath, his eyes flying open. Icy cold floods his being, sending shivers down his spine. Red, golden and brown flash through his mind, and before he can make sense of what is happening, he registers the startled, almost frightened look on Minho’s face.

The next thing he knows, the hand that was holding him so gently is gone from his face, Minho backing away from him, teary eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Jisung tries to blink away the images of naked skin, the shadows painted on the walls with candlelight, but they just won’t stop coming. His breathing becomes laboured, and before he can reach for Minho’s support, he realizes that he is alone.

Jisung stands in the middle of the driveway, his outstretched hand finding nothing but empty space where Minho was standing just mere moments ago. Panic fills his chest, his knees buckling under him.

Falling hard to the ground, Jisung realizes the truth when he collides with the cold, wet stone.

Minho’s red glowing eyes is the last thing he sees before his stomach turns itself inside out.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

It unfolds before his eyes like an 8-milimetre film reel.

Most of it is scorched and scuffed, but some parts are clear as day. Jisung sees their shadows tangled together on the mattress, his body warming up because of the burning candles around them. Minho’s skin is cold, but not his words. They are sweet and pure, whispered into Jisung’s ear in a laboured breath.

“You are perfect, Jisungie.”

Minho’s lips littering kisses to his cheeks, leaving little tingling sensation on his skin.

“I’ll catch you, sweetheart.”

Minho flushed to him from the back, helping him reach into heaven and beyond.

“You taste like the sun.”

Minho’s fangs on his neck, blood spilling down his front as he drinks.

Taking a sharp breath, Jisung remembers to collapse to the side, successfully avoiding the spilled contents of his stomach on the ground. His head falls into his hands, his mind bombarded by one simple conclusion.

Minho is a vampire.

Then, he remembers his dare the last Halloween.

He lives in the haunted house.

Jisung brings his hand down to his neck, feeling the spot where his pulse vibrates against his fingers. Where Minho drank from him.

Not just drank, he reminds himself, the shock he feels making his brain slower than usual. Where he kissed me while he fucked me in his bed.

The nausea clogs his throat again, making Jisung vomit into his mouth. He spits the bile out, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his hoodie. Rubbing his eyes with his palms, he lets out an exasperated sigh, a new mix of emotions starting to swirl inside him.

It’s fear, at not knowing the whole picture, working with scraps of memories that somehow resurfaced.

What if there is something else that I can’t remember?

It’s confusion, at why Minho befriended him in the first place and forgot to mention that they knew each other. How he managed to supress his memories of him… of them.

Why would he come back to the shop when he made me forget him?

It’s his feelings for Minho, making even bigger mess of the situation then it already was. 

But most of all, it’s anger – at being lied to and possibly of being used. Of not remembering his first time properly, of this being taken away from him without his knowing.

What if… I didn’t want it?

The last question that pops into his mind eats at him like a brainworm. From what he can remember, he doesn’t feel any negative emotions – not any pain or fear or even discomfort. The ghost of Minho’s touch on his skin makes his body all warm, his fingers tingling. There is a strange sensation in his belly, similar to the one he felt when he bumped Minho in the horror section and realized how beautiful he was.

Jisung shakes his head, trying to make sense of it. More than anything, he needs to see the whole picture; he knows there is no way that he is going to be able to fall sleep tonight (or ever) if he doesn’t get his questions answered.

Getting back up to his feet, his step is wobbly but determined. Jisung heads for the garage, walking his bike out to the driveway. He looks back to the house, through the living room window.

He can apologize to his friends for abandoning them later.

Now, as he hops onto his bike, he sets his eyes on the small hill at the outskirts of the town.

✩₊˚.⋆𔓎⋆⁺₊✧

The haunted house looks beautiful in the moonlight.

It’s the kind of haunted beauty that paints the estate in an atmosphere of unearthliness, placing the building out of time and space. In the daylight, it almost looks welcoming; in the night, Jisung holds his breath and marvels at the sight.

Hopping off from his bike, he leans it against the iron fence. Jisung stands in front of the gate, shivering with more than just the cold seeping into his bones. He has no plan of how to confront Minho – he hopes that if he gets past the front door, Minho won’t have any other way of escaping from him again.

Taking a deep breath, Jisung pushes the gate open with a small nudge. It gives in easily, opening wide to let him pass through. The courtyard is livelier than the last time he was here; the grass is cut and painted in lush green, flowerbeds lining the tall fence on one side. The little stone path is clearly visible under his feet, leading him all the way to the front porch.

Climbing the few steps, Jisung stands face to face with the tall wooden doors. It takes him a second to make up his mind about if he should knock or not, but just as he is reaching his hand out to rap against the wood, the doors fly open.

What greets him is a black-haired boy, his smile wide and toothy.

“Jisung!” The guy says, as if he was expecting him to come knock at his house in the middle of the night. “What a surprise! Come in, come in.”

Standing there, stunned and with his mouth hanging open, Jisung doesn’t move a muscle from the shock. He is looking at the stranger, wondering what he is doing in Minho’s home. And then, he remembers the newspaper article Seungmin wrote at the start of September.

“Ehm, sorry, Mr. Yang,” Jisung begins, blinking out of his stupor and feeling rather awkward, “I must’ve knocked on the wrong house.”

“Oh, what are you talking about? I’ve been waiting for you to show up,” Mr. Yang says with a smile, opening the door wider and gesturing for Jisung to follow him inside.

“And, please, call me Jeongin.”

Stepping over the threshold, a strange sense of déjà vu hits Jisung. But this time, the hallway is warm, illuminated by a gigantic chandelier with lighted candles. It’s cozy, furnished with modern-looking amenities, making the inside of the house seem less uncanny than the outside.

Jisung follows Jeongin into the kitchen, seeming like Jisung has interrupted him in the middle of preparing some meal. There are herbs scattered all over the counters, some mushrooms and strangely coloured flowers, some looking rather peculiar. So, maybe not exactly a meal, Jisung ponders.

“Salem, would you kindly lift your lazy but and say hi to your favourite visitor?”

Little squeak echoes from where the kitchen table is standing in the corner, startling Jisung out of his thoughts. He doesn’t know who or what he expects to greet him, but it’s definitely not the fluffy black cat that he used to bring treats to during his visits to the house in the summer. The feline’s thoughtful expression conjures up a little smile on his face, finally calming his racing heart down a bit.

The cat trots over to him, headbutting his outstretched hand. Jisung can feel Jeongin watching them with knowing eyes, but Salem’s presence makes him a little more trusting. When he pets over his fur coat, another memory pops into his head – the feline’s weight on his chest, his yellow eyes boring into his. His hands, tied to the bed.

“Uh,” Jisung starts, unsure of how to ask what he wants to. “Do you by any chance know how to contact the previous owner? His name is Lee Minho.”

Jeongin, standing by the stove and tending to the kettle, turns to him with a raised eyebrow, his hands crossing over his chest. “Previous?”

“Yeah, the guy who lived here before you…?”

Jeongin chuckles, and Jisung swears that Salem mimics the sound with his meow. “He still lives here. I’m his roommate.”

“Oh,” Jisung answers, not knowing how to properly react or what to say to that, really.

He remembers Minho telling him about his roommate the day they met in the shop, but since he discovered that Minho hasn’t always been honest with him, Jisung really doesn’t know how to distinguish between what is true and what is not.

“I thought that Minho told you about me,” Jeongin continues, taking a rug from the counter to grab the handle and put the kettle away.

Jisung watches as Jeongin takes out two mugs from the upper cabinet, then reaches further inside to take out a mason jar filled with, what he guesses, are dried mint leaves. He pours some into both cups, then fills them with boiling water.

Mumbling to himself, Jisung says, “Well, he mentioned a roommate, but I had no idea it was you, or that you lived here. But I guess that’s not the most important thing Minho forgot to mention. Is he here, by the way?”

“No,” Jeongin answers, confusion making his brows knit, “I thought he was supposed to be at your Halloween party tonight. But Jisung, what do you mean by Minho forgetting to mention something?”

Jisung gets up from the floor, but his eyes are glued to Salem weaving between his legs. The cat purrs loudly, as if he was telling Jisung that it’s okay to confide in Jeongin.

“I… I’m pretty sure Minho took some memories from me. Memories about him being a vampire and of us meeting for the first time last year, not this September.”

Looking genuinely shocked, Jeongin fishes out the mint leaves from both of their steaming mugs with a spoon, handing one to Jisung and gesturing to the table. They sit opposite each other, with Salem hopping onto the chair next to Jisung, his eyes darting between the two of them.

“How did you remember the memories?”

Sucking a deep breath in, Jisung thinks back to the moment in the driveway. The gentle hand on his cheek, Minho’s lips brushing against his. Is it possible that he started to remember what happened because of the touch?

“I…,” Jisung begins, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. “Fragments of the memories came back when we, uh… when we kissed.”

Jeongin tilts his head to the side, seemingly in thought.

“Did he bite you?”

“No,” Jisung rushes to answer, “no, n-not today.”

“Did he do anything strange before you pulled apart?”

“I don’t think so,” Jisung answers truthfully. “I just remember he looked scared, like he somehow knew I started to remember. I think he was… crying.”

Jeongin hums further in contemplation. His eyes widen all of a sudden when he looks down to their steaming mugs, getting up from his chair with a raised finger. Rushing to the fridge, he opens the bottom drawer, pulling out a vial of transparent liquid.

“Do you mind if I try something?”

Hesitating, Jisung feels something warm land on his hand. He looks to the side where Salem is patting him with his paw, his expression serene. His purring hasn’t subsided since he came to greet him. It’s like he offers his reassurance whenever he feels Jisung needs one.

“Yeah, okay,” he says to Jeongin as the other one brings the vial to the kitchen table, unscrewing the cork with a pop.

With a tilt of his hand, he lets few drops leak from the glass into Jisung’s mug. “These are Minho’s tears. I use them while making healing potions, but I’ve never heard of the possibility that they could revert a compulsion spell.”

Jisung doesn’t know what’s weirder – hearing the words potions and spell in one coherent sentence, or the fact that Jeongin somehow managed to gather Minho’s tears into a little glass tube. Or the fact that he is supposed to drink them now with his mint tea.

The tea doesn’t smell any different than it did before. Jeongin nods at him, assuring that nothing bad can happen – either he is going to remember or he is not. Jisung breaths in through his nose, bringing the cup to his lips. He takes a sip, then another, and the first swallow feels like a key, turning somewhere in his mind.

The memories don’t flood him this time; rather, he finds them on his own, one after the other like following a trail made out of breadcrumbs. He nearly drops the tea when the hidden feelings come right after – fear, then curiosity followed by intense pleasure. The feeling of Minho’s skin on his, his eyes turning into more golden than brown when he used his compulsion.

Gasping out loud, Jisung doesn’t expect Jeongin to rush to his side, laying a comforting hand onto his shoulder. He can hear a string of soothing words being whispered to him, but Jisung isn’t able to focus on their meaning. He can’t help but let himself be enveloped by the memories, sharp and focused.

He knows why Minho didn’t want to kiss him.

He knows that he wanted Minho – for him to take his virginity.

He knows he liked it – no, he loved it, all of it. Minho’s attentive hands, tender touches and sweet words. His heart aches when he remembers how he took care of him right after.

How he made him forget about the entire night.

New wave of anger rises inside his chest, blood boiling inside his veins. Knowing why Minho did what he did doesn’t make him understand it. Why did he keep coming back to the DVD store? Why did he want to get close to him again?

Why did Minho kiss him now?

“How are you feeling? Is it better?” Jeongin asks him in a soft tone, expression concerned. “You can finish the tea – the mint extract should help you calm down.”

Jisung moves automatically, bringing the mug to his mouth again. He takes more sips, but no new memories resurface – he has remembered it all, everything that was taken from him. He feels new weight in his lap, and it’s only when he looks down, does Jisung realize that Salem settled on his thighs.

His yellow eyes watch him as he downs the rest of the mug. It’s then that the cat becomes suddenly alert, ears pricking up and turning in the direction of the hallway. Salem blinks once, twice, before he turns his head to Jeongin. He hops down from Jisung’s lap, meowing as he headbutts Jeongin’s legs.

“Ah, already? Okay, if you say so,” Jeongin answers to the cat, squeezing Jisung’s shoulder one last time before he lets go.

Jisung, puzzled, watches as the other disappears into the pantry door on his left, coming out a second later with a wicker basket and a cloak around his shoulders. Suddenly he reminds him more of a character from his fantasy books than an ordinary human like him.

“Jeongin… are you,” Jisung begins, not sure whether his question is going to sound offending or not. “Uh… are you by any chance… a wizard?”

Genuine smile lights up his features as he grabs his hood to put it over his head. Jeongin checks the inside of the basket, then gestures for Salem to follow him.

“No, I’m an alchemist,” he answers, standing in the doorway. “If I was a wizard, I would be a lot cooler.”

Jisung matches his grin, even though the joke is lost on him because he has no clue what the difference between a wizard and an alchemist is. Before Jeongin can follow Salem, who has already skipped to the hallway, he gives him a compassionate look.

“Salem says it’s time to go now. I don’t understand cats’ intuition, but it has never betrayed me. Besides, there are some rare flowers that grow in cemeteries and bloom only once a year, on a Halloween night,” Jeongin explains.

“You can wait for Minho here, if you want. I think it won’t take him much longer before he comes back. He might be a vampire – a predator, as he likes to remind me and himself – but the most frightening I’ve ever seen him was when I stole his favourite blanket one time during movie night.”

Jisung can’t supress the little smile at the thought of a grumpy Minho. It’s just a fleeting one, but Jeongin notices anyway.

Clearing his throat, his eyes gain a sadder expression.

“It wasn’t right of Minho to take your memories from you and then lie about it. And I hope that you two can figure it out, Jisung,” Jeongin adds. “I have never seen him to actually enjoy being outside of this house, not until he started hanging out with you.”

It’s the last thing Jeongin says to him before he leaves him sitting in the kitchen, alone with his simmering feelings. The front door closes shut behind the man and the cat, and Jisung feels like it’s last year again – like he is wandering the house, his heart in his throat, trying to beat its way out.

Getting up from the chair, he flinches when it drags loudly against the hardwood floor. Jisung leaves his cup on the table, deciding to trace his footsteps from last year. He goes back to the hallway, to the massive staircase leading to the upper floor. His fingers trail the polished railing until he stops at the top of the stairs.

He has actually never wondered into Minho’s room on his own, always being carried in and out of it in his sleep. Jisung can’t explain it, but when he turns to the left, he knows he is heading in the right direction.

The door he comes across is standing ajar. It’s at the end of a long hallway, facing the courtyard. Carefully, Jisung nudges it open, his eyes accommodating to the darkness that welcomes him inside. Through the tall window, the moonshine covers nearly every surface in a silver blanket, making the canopy bed stand out in the room.

Jisung threads lightly over the floorboards. It’s like seeing his memories come to life – the room looks exactly the same as he remembers, as if Minho hasn’t spent a single night in here since last Halloween. Slowly, he lowers his hand to the sheets, letting the fabric pass between his fingers.

“Where did you disappear?” Jisung asks into the quiet of the room, acting on a hunch more than anything. When he turns around, Minho stands in the doorway, his shoulders sagged and eyes downcast.

Jisung can see it now, when he properly focuses; his stilled chest, his sharp movements that flow like water. His hair isn’t wet from the snowflakes, and his cheeks don’t have that pink tint from the biting cold. How come he didn’t notice it before?

“I’m sorry, Jisung, I…,” Minho trails off, his eyes flicking up to him and back to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

“And that’s everything you have to say? Really, Minho?”

Jisung feels his anger rising up to his throat, putting words into his mouth easier than ever. He takes the few steps across the bedroom, halting just a feet away from Minho, his eyes still avoiding his face. It only serves to anger Jisung further.

“Why did you pretend not to know me? W-why did you play with me this whole time?”

His voice cracks on the second question, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. The desperation in his voice finally makes Minho look up at him and hold his gaze for more than a second. His sad expression makes Jisung want to punch him in the face.

“Because I was a selfish coward. I am a selfish coward,” Minho admits. “But I never pretended that I liked you, Jisung. I–”

“I don’t think that really matters right now,” Jisung interrupts him, seething. He doesn’t want to hear any excuses, that’s not why he came here tonight. “Just tell me why.”

Minho rakes his hand through his hair, brushing it away from his face. The gesture makes him look so much more human, mental tiredness showing through his body.

“I took your memories from you because I didn’t want you to come back. But,” Minho shrugs, chuckling humourlessly to himself, “it didn’t exactly stop you from finding your own way here again.”

On top of getting more impatient, Jisung still doesn’t understand. “But why, Minho? Were you afraid that I would tell the whole town? That I would, I don’t know, come back here with a priest to exorcize you or some bullshit?”

“No,” Minho says quietly, a vast contrast to the hot emotions seeping through Jisung’s voice. Holding his gaze, Jisung sees Minho’s own eyes getting watery. “I was afraid that you would want to stay.”

“Oh, and that would be so bad for you, wouldn’t it? Would it be so bad for you if I liked you?” Jisung asks, his words soaked in self-pity. He is far past caring right now, though – his vision gets blurry the longer he looks at Minho’s regretful face.

“No, sweetheart. Not for me,” Minho answers tenderly, reaching his hand out to him. He halts his movements when Jisung flinches, his arm falling down dejectedly.

When Minho doesn’t elaborate, only lets them stand there in the heavy silence, Jisung can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Minho, I really don’t understand what you are so afraid of and I can’t help you if you won’t explain it to me. I refuse to believe that you did all of this – going back to the rental shop, watching movies with me after my shift, meeting my friends – just because you were bored and needed a good laugh or something. But your reluctance to talk to me is really making me hurt.”

The tears on Minho’s face have dried during Jisung’s monologue, leaving no trace behind. Minho’s eyes harden where they meet his, and suddenly, his heart picks up speed. Like this, unmoving and expressionless, Minho truly is a part of the supernatural, Jisung realizes.

When he speaks next, his voice doesn’t quiver, not with sadness, at least. There is his own anger, but to Jisung, it feels more like fear than anything.

“The night I came into the shop, I really had no clue that you were working there. And when I saw you I just… I couldn’t forget you. I tried not to go back, but I wanted to see you so badly. I needed to know that you were okay, that… that I didn’t hurt you.”

Minho’s gaze slips from his face to the side of his neck, making Jisung’s skin shiver. He instinctively brings his hand to the spot where his pulse vibrates, averting his eyes to the ground.

“And then I just couldn’t stop,” Minho continues in rushed words. “The promise of seeing your smile was the one thing that made me want to get out of this house. That’s why I kept coming back for more DVDs. Talking to you was the only part of my day that was actually worth something.”

“I didn’t think that you would want to be my friend, but when you asked to watch the kids’ movie with me, there was nothing I wanted to do more. So, I let myself believe that I would be able to lie to you while being your friend.”

Jisung’s throat constricts with emotions, trying to claw their way out. The anger is still there, but it’s sadness he feels the most right now. It’s why it feels like his heart breaks in two when he hears Minho’s next sentence.

“I should have never come back to the shop after the first time.”

Jisung is sick of his words. He is sick of that emotionless face, of trying to find the real Minho behind the façade he is so adamantly keeping up.

“You know what? I think you are full of shit,” Jisung spits out, his hands crossed over his chest.

“What?”

Jisung reaches out his hands to push him back a step, finally feeling like he is getting through with the grimace Minho shoots him.

“I’m not buying your crap, Minho.”

Inhaling through his nose sharply, something dangerous flashes in his eyes. Minho slams the door behind him shut, leaning back into Jisung’s space and looking taller than he actually is.

“Do you really know why I don’t want you here, Jisung? Because this isn’t life!” He almost shouts as he throws his hands into the air, making Jisung take a careful step back.

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I ever took this away from you. Look at me,” he says, his eyes flashing red to emphasize his point. “I don’t sleep, I don’t eat – I can’t be human, no matter how much I make myself look like one.”

Jisung continues to back away until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He falls down onto the sheets when Minho doesn’t stop coming closer. Now, he really is towering over him, but he is not frightening. His face has a vulnerable expression, one of deeply rooted pain.

Getting down onto his knees, little sobs escape Minho’s mouth alongside his words.

“But you,” he whispers, his voice at the edge of breaking, “God, I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you. You are my sun, Jisung, the only one I would ever let burn me down to the ground if it meant that I could feel your warmth.”

With trembling fingers, Jisung reaches for his face. His cheek is still cold, paler than usual. Jisung rubs his thumb into his skin, feeling Minho breathe out.

There he is.

“Min,” Jisung begins, his tone soothing. “Look at me.”

It takes him a moment before he unglues his eyes from the ground, but when their eyes find each other, Jisung can’t help the new tears that run down his face.

“Let me be here for you,” Jisung whispers. “I want to be here.” And then, when Minho still remains kneeling on the ground, surrendering, Jisung breaths in deep and lays his heart out into the open. “I want you.”

“How, Jisung?” Minho asks, disbelieve lacing through his words. “I lied to you and hurt you, and the worst part is that I kept doing it for so long. Why would you want to stay?”

“Because I remember what I felt when I was here with you last year. And, yeah, I’m still a bit mad at you,” Jisung admits. “But, Minho, you are the reason I want to stay. You matter to me more than you think.”

Minho smiles at him through his own tears. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

Jisung doesn’t think twice – he buries his face in the crown of Minho’s silky blonde hair and wraps his arms around his shoulders. Like a paper doll, Minho crumbles in his embrace, the tip of his cold nose rubbing against Jisung’s shoulder.

Jisung doesn’t know how long it takes before he stops crying. Minho’s hands hold him so tightly, almost like a lifeline. He cards his fingers through his hair, curling the strands around his digits. They are quiet, save for the occasional sob and deep breath, mostly on Jisung’s part.

After a while, Jisung starts pulling Minho up to his feet, wanting to be at eye level with him for what he is about to say. Minho is pliant in his hold, but he manoeuvres his body onto the bed, their knees touching.

“I want to be here for you, Minho,” Jisung repeats himself. “And for that, I need you to be honest with me. No more compulsion spells.”

“Never again,” Minho agrees, his eyes shifting to where Jisung’s hands lie in his lap. He outstretches his fingers to the moonstone bracelet, tugging at the strands. “Besides, the compulsion wouldn’t work on you, now. Not mine, nor anyone else’s.”

Jisung raises a confused eyebrow. “How come?”

“Remember what I told you about moonstones?” Minho asks, one corner of his mouth lifted.

Nodding, Jisung follows the movement of his fingers, the stone glistening in the midnight shine.

“I asked Jeongin to enchant it with a protection spell. So that way no one can manipulate you with magic anymore, including me.”

Jisung feels a pang in his chest, looking up at Minho from a new point of view. His fingers bump into his when Jisung begins to loosen the strands, taking the bracelet off. It’s not something he has to ponder for long – he lays it on the night table by his right.

“Why are you taking it off, Jisungie?”

Turning back to him, Jisung gives him a genuine smile. “This is me saying that I trust you.”

Minho looks caught off guard, his eyes wide and gleaming. Jisung marvels at his beauty even now, after having remembered what Minho looks like naked and under the spell of pleasure. He begins to lean into his space, Minho meeting him in the middle.

Their foreheads meet, the tips of their noses brush. This time, Jisung doesn’t ask – he demands.

“Kiss me.”

And Minho does.

It’s slow at first; before Minho can even bring his lips to Jisung’s, he cups his face with his palm and holds him in place. Holding his breath, Jisung prepares for the cold touch, but it’s anything but. Minho’s lips are surprisingly warm, slotting perfectly with his own. Neither of them dares to move for a moment, and Jisung swears that it’s not him who is trembling – it’s Minho.

He sighs deeply when Minho parts from him.

“More, Min, I-I want more.”

Before he can add a please to his sentence, Minho is back, this time hungrier. Jisung lets him lead, opening for him as Minho instructs with his tongue. It’s nothing like the kiss in the driveway, if he could even call it that – then, he couldn’t feel Minho’s need, his longing. Now, it’s like his true self came out to the light with every brush and meeting of their tongues.

Jisung feels it in the way he chuckles between kisses, how he never pulls away until Jisung does because he doesn’t need to breathe. How he breaks away only when he wants to litter kisses all over his face, something that Jisung finds unbearably cute.

It’s his other hand, caressing his side with gentle touch. It’s the way Jisung shivers when he remembers how it feels to be touched like that on a naked skin and unintentionally bites Minho’s lower lip. It’s the whine Minho gives him in return.

“Jisungie,” he sighs out, “what are you doing?”

He doesn’t hesitate about being honest with him.

“I want you.”

Instead of pressing closer, Minho pulls away, the hand on his face dropping back to his lap. Jisung’s misses him the moment he is gone, fighting the urge to follow him.

“Jisungie,” Minho begins, his eyes soft. “Are you sure about this?”

It’s clear from the tone of Minho’s voice that he doesn’t mean just the sex part – what he is really asking about is himself.

Taking his hands into his, Jisung lays his heart out to him once more. He thinks he might just leave it open for Minho to come inside on his own pace and time, letting him explore every crevice and nook until he realizes how much room he takes in it.

“I know that it’s going to take time,” he begins, one deep breath in and out. “I don’t know a lot about your nature or the supernatural, but I’m not afraid to find out, Minho. Because I know you.”

One small lift of the corner of his lips is everything it takes to put an easy smile on Jisung’s face before he continues.

“I know you are going to try to argue with me about this, but just listen for once, okay? You are kind and you are caring. You would do anything to make me laugh and make me feel comfortable.”

Squeezing his hands, Jisung has to make an effort not to cry again.

“But you also make me cry, scream and curse your name. You touch me like it’s the last time, every time. To my eyes,” Jisung breaths in, his voice coming out in a whisper, “you are more human than most people I’ve met. So yes, I am sure about you. About us.”

Minho mimics his heavy breathing – Jisung thinks it helps him calm down his feelings, even though he doesn’t do it for a lack of air. The movement itself makes him focus more, squeezing Jisung’s hands in return. Minho brings one to his face, littering a kiss after kiss to his palm.

“Us,” Minho echoes, letting it ring out in the air between them. Jisung likes how the word sounds coming from his lips – careful, but firm.

He lets Jisung cradle his face, holding his gaze.

“I’m afraid that I’m going to hurt you somehow.”

Jisung nods, “Most likely you will, yeah. But that’s just what being human means – making mistakes and learning from them. Besides, I’m not flawless either.”

Jisung brings him closer by the hand on his cheek. He pecks Minho on the lips and has to come back for few more before he pulls away.

“Now, come here and make it up to me, yeah?”

Jisung says it in a teasing tone, but Minho dives for him like he needs him to breathe. He comes back for his lips like a man starved, one of his hands gently supporting the back of his neck as he lays Jisung down onto the sheets. Feeling Minho’s weight on his body, this alone makes his insides heat up with excitement.

Jisung sighs into his mouth when Minho begins to explore. His hand slides down to his waist, teasing the hem of his shirt. Encouraging him with backing up his hips into the touch, Jisung gasps loudly when he feels his fingers on his lower stomach.

The memory of Minho’s words surfaces up to the front of his mind. The first time someone touched him so intimately.

I know you can already feel it. Right here.

One of Jisung’s hands slips down to lay over Minho’s, pressing his palm down. Little whine escapes his lips, right into Minho’s mouth. Pulling back and blinking his eyes open, Jisung is greeted by a playful smirk – the one he missed so much.

“You like it when I touch you here, hm?”

 It’s more of a statement than a question, really. Jisung answers by squeezing Minho’s hand once more before he winds his own around his neck, playing with strands of his hair. He can’t believe Minho is touching him again, because his smile is so beautiful even his wildest dreams couldn’t conjure him.

Pressing one long kiss to his lips, Minho pulls back and climbs down his body. He slowly rolls the hem of Jisung’s shirt up to his chest, exposing his stomach. Settling between his bent legs, Minho lays tender kisses to his flushed skin, whispering words of praise in between.

It’s almost too much for Jisung to look at, Minho’s reverence soaking through his gestures.

The kisses tickle him, but at the same time, Jisung thinks no one has ever been so gentle with him. Minho is making him feel good without asking anything in return, but Jisung remembers the feeling of being bitten all too well. How Minho’s euphoria flowed from his body into his, making him delirious in the best way possible.

“Minho,” Jisung sighs out, tangling his fingers into his hair.

Craning his neck to look up at him, Minho doesn’t stop paying attention to his belly, but his eyes find Jisung’s with an inquisitive glint. He tightens his hold on his waist when Jisung tells him, “You can drink from me if you want.”

There is a low groan, then Minho proceeds to bury his face into his stomach. He places one last kiss to his skin before he climbs up Jisung’s body, their faces levelled.

“I don’t…,” he trails off, his words getting stuck in his throat when Jisung pouts at him. “Sweetheart, I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want to… feed on you. It would be wrong.”

Jisung maximizes his sulking. “It didn’t feel wrong the last time.”

Minho huffs out an exasperated breath, surprising Jisung with the gesture. He brings one of his hands to Jisung’s face, his thumb rubbing his cheek gently. The golden specks in his eyes make up whole galaxies inside of him.

“It’s different, now,” Minho whispers, eyes slipping to his lips. Jisung is at the edge of a smile when Minho starts pecking him with quick kisses, making the butterflies in his stomach take flight.

“It’s not,” Jisung argues, pushing Minho back a bit with his hand on his chest. “I want you now like I did before. And I want you to feel good, just like you make me feel good.”

Reaching up to his face, Jisung traces the plush of Minho’s lips with his fingers, marvelling at the softness, at how delicate he looks, from up close. His fangs aren’t visible, but Jisung remembers how sharp they have glowed in the candlelight.

“Show me, please. I won’t run away.”

He doesn’t have to explain what he wants to see. Minho gives him a contemplative look, but it doesn’t take him long before he closes his eyes. Jisung feels him go taut above him, so he cradles his face with his other hand, too.

When Minho looks at him again, his eyes are glowing in the prettiest shade of red. His fangs protrude over his bottom lip, just enough to be visible. Holding him between his palms, no one could ever convince Jisung that Minho is supposed to look frightening.

Pulling him down softly, Jisung presses his lips to Minho’s. It’s nothing more than a chaste kiss, but it shows enough. He hears Minho exhale through his nose, sounding relieved.

Jisung continues to kiss him, until he feels Minho relax his posture. He slips his tongue inside his mouth, lazy movements making his stomach clench with arousal. He feels Minho getting excited through the material of his pants, pressing his body into him, encouraging.

Gently, Minho bites down on his lower lip and pulls until it bounces back. His eyes are back to their golden-brown, checking in once more if Jisung is absolutely sure.

“Please,” Jisung says in whiny tone. Tilting his head to the side, he exposes the spot where his blood flows in his carotid artery.

Before Minho can lean down to his throat, he litters kisses all over his cheek and jaw. He doesn’t forget to place a kiss on the tender spot behind his ear, making Jisung’s skin shiver with anticipation.

Mouthing at his neck, Minho licks over the spot first. He nips and teases, letting his breath fan over the wet skin. Jisung bends his knee and slots it between Minho’s legs, earning a groan and another mouthy kiss.

It’s right after that Minho pierces his skin with his fangs, making Jisung sigh with the liquid gold that floods his veins. He presses harder on Minho’s groin, tangles his fingers into his hair.

“Fuck,” he whispers when Minho pulls away, too quickly to drink more than few gulps.

There is a thin trail of blood on his chin, running down one corner of his mouth. Before he can overthink it, Jisung props himself up on his elbow and reaches to kiss the blood away from Minho’s lips. He earns an astonished gaze, and that fond gaze that makes his heart beat like crazy.

“You are unreal,” Minho whispers, flicking between his mouth and his eyes. “And still so fucking sweet.”

Jisung can’t help but grin smugly, knowing that he managed to blow Minho’s mind. He wants to kiss that expression off his face, but before he can move, he yelps with surprise when Minho manhandles him onto his lap, his hands supporting him on the small of his back. Jisung instinctively wraps his arms around Minho’s neck, locking them in a position where he can feel exactly how much they both like it.

“Oh,” Minho says, now being the one with self-satisfies expression. “I didn’t think you like it that much.”

Rolling his eyes skyward, Jisung earns a playful smack to his but, making him crack a smile. Minho’s hand stays there, playing with the band of his jeans while they meet in a kiss, this one more rushed and heated than before. Arching his back, Jisung can’t get enough of feeling Minho move under him.

“Darling,” Minho interrupts their kissing, “how do you want to do this?”

Blushing horribly at the image that pops into his head, Jisung has to remind himself that there is almost nothing Minho hasn’t seen before. The same goes for him, too, but still – telling him that he can’t stop thinking about his cock moving inside him is a lot. Admitting that it makes him wet just from the thought of it feels so embarrassing.  

In that moment, just as the thought surfaces to the front of his mind, Minho tilts his head to the side, wide grin appearing on his face. Forgetting about Minho’s enhanced sense of smell might just get Jisung into his early grave tonight.

“I know you are thinking about something dirty, sweet thing. What is it?”

With a sly smirk, Minho moves one of his hands to Jisung’s front, pressing his palm into his lower stomach, amplifying the ache. Jisung’s breath shudders, leaning into the touch automatically.

“I… I want to feel you,” Jisung manages, getting crazier with the way Minho is slowly moving his hand down to his crotch.

Minho rewards him for his answer with a peck to his lips.

“How?”

“Ah… I-Inside, I want you inside.”

Cupping his hard cock with his palm, Jisung can’t help but buckle his hips into him, spread his legs a tad wider. Minho’s other hand begins to rub small circles through the fabric of his jeans, just near his entrance.

“You want to feel me here?”

His breath is laboured now, still not used to the overwhelming stimulation. Jisung manages a small nod, but obviously it’s not enough.

“Jisungie, look at me. I need you to tell me with words.” Then, when Jisung gathers enough strength to find his eyes. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Minho halts his movements with the hand on his ass, prodding one finger between his cheeks. Jisung digs his nails into the skin on Minho’s neck, leaving little crescent indents.

“Yeah,” he lets out, sounding half-wrecked already. “I want you to f-fuck me.”

“Good boy,” Minho praises him as he slots their lips together. It’s hungry, it is desire, but it’s also reverence and everything in between.

The hand cupping his erection is gone right after, replaced by Minho unbuttoning the front of his jeans. Delicate fingers slide into his soaked underwear, making Jisung moan when the wet tip rubs against Minho’s palm.

Minho wraps his hand around him and sets a languid tempo, getting Jisung used to the touch after so long. Feeling more wetness drip down his length, Jisung reboots his brain and reaches for Minho’s hoodie, mourning the temporary loss of the touch when he has to pull it over his shoulders.

But the view of Minho’s naked chest is its own compensation – his defined muscles, alabaster skin and toned stomach. It’s like looking at an art piece, having that deep need to touch that ethereal, forbidden beauty.  

Resuming the strokes, Jisung begins to pant into Minho’s mouth as he gets closer to steal a kiss. Minho teases him with his tongue, licking past his lips in the rhythm of his hand, making a fist for his cockhead. Wet squelches ring out into the quiet of the room, making Jisung feel so dirty yet so incredibly hot.

“Take your top off for me,” Minho commends in a whisper.

Jisung does as he is told without hesitating. He grabs the hem of his hoodie, then pulls it over his shoulders and discards it to the floor. He feels Minho’s gaze boring into his naked skin, lips parted and eyes filled with desire. One finger is still prodding at his clothed ass, and Jisung would lie if he said that he didn’t like the teasing.

Minho’s hand leaves his cock to help him undress into nudeness, his jeans and boxers flying to the ground. Before he can settle in Minho’s lap again, Jisung undoes the button on his pants, urging Minho to stand up and help him take the offending pieces of clothing off. Minho smiles down at him the whole time, his hands distracting him with the way he tangles them into his hair, brushing the strands from his face.

When there is no single piece of clothing separating their bodies, Minho plops down onto the bed just like he was sitting before, pulling Jisung to perch astride on his lap. Jisung still feels shy about his body, still mostly knew to all of this that comes with being intimate.

He guesses that Minho must have sensed his nervousness from the way he is caressing his skin with overwhelming tenderness, one hand dragging over the curve of his spine, the other holding him by his hip. Jisung can feel Minho’s leaking cock under him, and he can’t help but look down.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Minho coddles him with his words. “I can make it painless, like last time.”

Jisung looks up and finds his eyes as he slowly shakes his head. “I don’t want you to.”

Minho encourages him to elaborate with a questioning tilt of his head, rubbing circles into his hip bone. Jisung brings him closer by the hands on his shoulders, letting their foreheads meet.

“I want to know how it feels, how it really feels when you are inside me. I… I’m not afraid of the pain.”

Even though his voice quivers, he means what he says. It’s anticipation, that kind of feeling which can conceal itself as nervousness when he is beyond excited. It’s wanting so badly to make Minho feel good that he forgets that he doesn’t need to be an expert in pleasure – he only needs to listen to what Minho’s body is telling him.

“Okay,” he answers, cupping his face. “But if at any moment you don’t like something or you feel even a bit uncomfortable, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And we will stop and talk it through again.”

“Okay,” Jisung repeats, his heart beating like crazy. While Minho was reassuring him, his hand has slid down to the swell of his ass, teasing one finger into the cleft of his cheeks. “I’m ready, Min.”

This time, Minho doesn’t tell him to flip onto his stomach. He keeps him in his lap, his eyes watching every miniscule change in his expression. Bringing his clean hand to Jisung’s lips, he instructs him to open up.

Three digits slip inside his mouth, and Jisung doesn’t have to be told twice what to do. He licks over them, sucks them inside as he watches Minho’s lips part with a pleased sigh. He feels cum drip down his length where it’s leaning on Minho’s stomach, feeling so incredibly wet and aroused.

With his other hand, Minho pulls his cheeks apart, exposing his hole. Jisung whines instantly when he feels the change in temperature on his skin, taking Minho’s digits deeper. The sensation is so good he thinks he might just come untouched if he gives into the pleasure.

“You are doing so good, darling,” Minho doesn’t forget to praise him as he pulls out, reaching his hand to his back.

Wet fingers drag over his hole, and it takes everything in him not to shimmy away from the weird feeling. Jisung relaxes his muscles as much as he can, his head dripping down onto Minho’s shoulder. He feels kisses being peppered to his neck and his cheek as Minho experimentally prods at his entrance.

Jisung realizes that Minho’s fangs have come out only when he feels his skin being pierced, the euphoria spreading into his being. He suddenly realizes that he can feel one of Minho’s fingers inside, just past the first knuckle. He flutters his hole around it, getting used to the intrusion.

Pulling back with a groan, Minho rolls his tongue out to lick the remaining blood from his lips. Jisung feels his body go pliant in his hold, Minho’s venom making his muscles and mind relax at once.

“Is it okay if I move?” Minho asks, gentle expression on his face.

Jisung whispers a soft yes, taking his finger deeper inside as he begins to move in circles. He is rewarded with more kissing and praise, with a teasing nip here and there. When Jisung begins to meet the thrusts of his finger, Minho teases a second one against his rim.

Dragging his nails alongside Minho’s spine, Jisung says, “I can take it.”

“I know you can, sweetheart,” Minho coos at him, pulling out entirely and slipping back in with two fingers.

Jisung groans loudly because of the stretch, beginning to feel impossibly full. He tilts his head to the side again, asking Minho for a bite as he feels his fingers drag alongside his walls.

This time, Minho only takes one gulp before he pulls away, pushing his fingers deeper. His lips remain plastered to Jisung’s skin, licking the shallow wounds and littering kisses where he can reach.

It feels more like an erotic massage, now – Minho is making little circles with his fingers, scissoring them apart and switching between pushing them as deep as he can and shallowing him, when he pushes only past the first knuckles and out. It’s making Jisung lose his mind with how fucking good it feels, being played with like this.

Opening his eyes, now Jisung has a perfect view of his and Minho’s lap, his thick leaking cock. Licking his dry lips, he realizes that he has never touched Minho there, never held him and felt his weight.

Removing his hand from Minho’s back, he reaches into his lap and jolts with surprise when Minho groans right into his ear as he wraps his fingers around him. Jisung experimentally tugs, going all the way up to his tip and then down. He repeats the movement, spreading Minho’s precum all over his length.

“Feels good, Jisungie,” Minho sighs as he quickens his own pace, now thrusting his digits inside his hole with purpose. “You are fucking perfect.”

His body moves up and down with the force, moaning when he feels a third finger prodding at the tight ring of muscle. Jisung fists Minho’s cockhead as he mentally prepares himself for even bigger stretch, giving Minho the green light when he checks in. Slipping out, Minho carefully pushes inside with one more digit than before.

Unable to stop himself in time, Jisung squeezes his fingers around Minho’s length, eliciting a low groan out of his mouth. He doesn’t feel any pain thanks to Minho’s thorough prep with two fingers, but the feeling is still strange at best.

 “Sweetheart, talk to me,” Jisung hears over the loud beating of his heart. “Does it hurt?”

When Jisung doesn’t answer in time, Minho pulls away from him, searching his eyes. Jisung nearly melts when he sees the concern, the care that pours from his gaze. Taking one deep breath in and constricting his muscles around Minho’s fingers, he starts calming down.

“No,” Jisung answers truthfully, holding Minho’s gaze. “Just weird and… a lot.”

He gets a very sweet kiss for his answer, then one more just because he puckers his lips.

“I got you, baby. I got you,” Minho whispers over and over as they wait for Jisung to get used to the feeling.

With Minho’s string of whispered soothing words, it doesn’t take much longer for him to eventually lower himself down and fully take the digits inside. Besides the stretch, he doesn’t feel any different – that is until Minho crooks his fingers just a tiny bit, brushing over that bundle of nerves that has Jisung jolting forward with a shock of pleasure.

He isn’t able to concentrate on getting Minho off, not now, when he feels like he is just one step away from coming all over his stomach. The feeling is about to send him into heaven, but he doesn’t want to go anywhere that Minho isn’t.

“Min, I-I gonna come,” he warns him, sweat trickling down from his forehead.

“You can, Jisungie. I’m going to take care of you.”

“No,” Jisung pants, his words almost incoherent. “I w-want to co-me with you inside. Please.”

It’s like a switch that turns on in Minho’s brain. He dives for his lips, stealing his every whine as he gently pulls out of him. Licking inside his mouth, Minho helps Jisung up onto his knees, levelling his hole with his leaking cock. Jisung can’t look away, his eyes glued to the way Minho wraps his fingers around his length and guides himself to his rim.

“Breathe, Jisungie,” he instructs him just as he nudges the tip inside. Jisung sobs with the shock of pleasure that runs down his spine, relaxing when Minho squeezes his hip. “Go at your own pace, okay?”

Nodding, Jisung draws deep breaths in as Minho supports his weight, kissing his face as a distraction. Jisung slowly takes the head of Minho’s cock inside, feeling like he is going to burst if he doesn’t stop. Fluttering his hole around him, he feels Minho suck his skin past his lips, leaving a blooming red mark behind.

“You are doing perfect, that’s it,” Minho praises as Jisung lowers himself another inch. “You are so tight, it feels fucking amazing.”

“For you,” Jisung whispers back, feeling Minho’s cock in his throat. “I haven’t… haven’t done it… since you.”

When Minho bites him again, Jisung forgets about everything else. His mind completely blacks out as Minho’s fangs pierce his skin, letting his body lower itself all the way down. His head falls back as he feels completely full to the point of bursting, his insides rearranging to accommodate Minho’s length.

This time, Minho takes more than few gulps – Jisung feels it when he presses his chest to his, feeling it warming up in real time. His blood coursing through Minho’s veins, it makes him feel possessive in a way. Leaning his entire weight onto Minho’s cock, it gets in deeper than before, leaving Jisung gasping.

Licking over the wound, Minho moves his hands to Jisung’s asscheeks, pulling them apart and squeezing. He drags his finger over the place where they are joined, prodding at Jisung’s stretched rim.

When he pulls away from his neck, his eyes are the most beautiful brown Jisung has ever seen.

“Fuck,” is the only thing Minho is able to get past his lips, eyes wide with pleasure.

Jisung echoes the sentiment, adding to the feeling by moving his hips slowly up and down. The wetness that leaks from him makes it sound so dirty, so lewd Jisung is sad that he can’t see how Minho’s cock moves inside him from this angle.  

Leaning back, Minho lets him take the lead. Not so long after, Jisung is able to take all of Minho in one go, his cock slipping out of him entirely before pushing back in to the hilt. He likes to stuff himself with it, keep it there, as deep as possible knowing that Minho is touching him where no one has ever touched him.

And where no one ever will.

“Min,” he moans his name when Minho starts helping him with his hips. Jisung watches as his own cock bobs uselessly between his legs, something so filthy about it that he can’t put a name on it. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

Beautiful smile spreads over his face as Minho fucks into him with force, letting Jisung rest his tired muscles. He leans his head into the crook of Minho’s shoulder, letting his hole be fucked as Minho wants to.

Jisung gathers enough strength to press his lips to his neck, sucking his own little marks into his skin. He focuses on Minho’s laboured breath, his little sounds of pleasure that he can’t keep inside. When his cock pulsates inside him, Jisung’s muscles spasm on their own, massaging him inside.

“Sweetheart,” Minho breath out, “you are so fucking perfect for me. I love how your hole moulds around me.”

Before Jisung can even open his mouth and warn him about his orgasm, it rips through his body like a tsunami wave. Jisung comes so hard he bites into Minho’s skin, rutting against his stomach and spurting ropes of cum on them both. Minho notices immediately, doubling down on his thrusts so he can prolong Jisung’s high.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You came so much, you are so good,” Minho whispers filth into his ear, his hips stuttering as he nears his own bliss.

Jisung mentally prepares himself for the overstimulation as he explicitly forbids Minho from pulling out before he comes inside. Minho’s thrusts change into restless pounding, making his wet and puffy hole throb from the pressure.

Just when Jisung thinks the feeling can’t get any better, he feels the skin of his neck being pierced, Minho emptying inside him a second later. His cock is buried inside him to the hilt, filling Jisung’s belly as he drinks.

Jisung revels in the blissful feeling, one of his hands slipping down to his own cock, still wet with release but already half hard with arousal and Minho’s venom. He sets a languid tempo, waiting for Minho to join him in the sweet afterglow.

Several moments later, after Minho licks the wound clean for faster healing, he pulls away and captures Jisung’s lips into a searing kiss, a one that tells him everything words alone can not.

“Did you like it?” Minho has the audacity to ask as he slips one of his hands between his cheeks, his cock softening inside him.

Jisung grins, his mind filled with desire, making him braver than usual. “See for yourself,” he teases, flicking his eyes down to his lap, knowing that Minho is going to follow.

A smug grin takes over Minho’s features when he sees his flushed cock. He lays his hand over Jisung’s, helping him with his strokes as he intertwines their fingers. The kiss that follows is one of the sweetest Minho has ever given him.

“Let me pull out and help you properly, darling.”

Jisung protests at first, but Minho coaxes him with more kisses and more sweet words, eventually helping him lift up and let his cock slip out. Warm trickles of cum leak onto the sheets under him, making his thighs wet and slick. Jisung reaches for the night stand on his right in search of wipes or tissues, but Minho stops him with a hand on his arm.

Wordlessly, he tells Jisung to wait before he positions himself on the bed, lying down onto his back, his head propped onto a pillow. He gestures for Jisung to come closer, patting his chest.

“What…”? Jisung begins to ask but does as he is instructed, eyes wide.

He sits down onto Minho’s chest, gasping with surprise when Minho grips him by his ass, making him scoot forward – making him hover above his mouth.

“Minho, what do you want to do?”

Without a single blink, Minho tells him with a straight face, “I want to eat you out.”

“Ehm,” Jisung begins, incredibly shy now, a complete one-eighty from how he felt just minutes ago. “Are you sure you are gonna… like it?”

Minho eating him out when he is lying between his legs is one thing. Having his ass forced down onto his mouth is another, even though he doesn’t need air to breathe, it can’t be a very comfortable position.

“Jisungie,” Minho begins, hands squeezing his asscheeks. “I know it.”

Breathing deeply in and out, Jisung grabs the headboard and leans his weight onto his arms. Minho gently guides him down to where he wants him, and it’s not long before he feels wet muscle prodding at his rim. It tickles at first, and Jisung can’t help a strangled moan when Minho uses a bit of his strength to pull him down the rest of the way.

Being perfectly stretched, Minho’s tongue slides right in without a hitch. He licks inside and around his rim, wiping away the cum that has leaked outside. Jisung feels his legs tremble with intense pleasure, his cock pulsating with building orgasm.

His stomach clenches when Minho sucks, then fucks his tongue inside and repeats the motion. Jisung can’t believe how wet he is, not just inside, but how much his cock is leaking onto the pillow. Fortunately, this time, he is quicker than his body.

“Min, I… I won’t last long,” he warns him, tangling his fingers into Minho’s silky hair.

Leaving kisses on his puffed rim, Minho pulls away after a moment, gripping Jisung by his hips to move him down a bit. When Jisung looks at him, he sees Minho’s dirty mouth, cum and spit coating his chin and upper lip.

“Good boy,” he praises, taking Jisung’s cock into his palm. “C’mere.”

Opening his mouth wide, Jisung realizes that Minho is pushing him forward with his hand on his hip, offering his mouth for him to fuck. Jisung whines unabashedly when he rolls his tongue out, placing the tip of his cock there to entice him.

Jisung needs more encouragement before he is able to let go of his thoughts and fill Minho’s mouth like he is asking him to do. When his cock doesn’t need support from his hand anymore, Minho moves his fingers to his perineum, teasing his balls.

It doesn’t take Jisung long before he sets a quick tempo; looking into Minho’s eyes as he fucks his face is so intimate, so vulnerable that he can’t stop the few tears that escape from his eyes. He buries his cock inside his mouth, marvelling at the beauty in front of him – Minho’s lips stretched around his girth, all spit and cum.

His cheeks have gained a pinkish hue, same as the tip of his nose and ears. Jisung brushes stray strands of hair from his forehead, then moves his hand to cradle his face. He begins to chase his high when Minho huffs out through his nose, more impatient than Jisung.

Cock hitting the back of Minho’s throat, Jisung moans his name at every thrust until he spills onto his tongue. Minho holds him in place with a firm hand around his waist, making sure that he milks every drop of Jisung’s orgasm, swallowing down around him.

“Minho,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and almost unrecognizable. The look in Minho’s eyes tells him everything he needs to know. His mischievous grin that follows right after Jisung pulls out is the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world.

Jisung is glad Minho doesn’t need to breathe – after he climbs down and lays over him, he doesn’t waste one single second and cradles his face so he can kiss him fully on the lips. He tastes them on his tongue, making sure that he shows Minho how much he enjoyed it. Minho reciprocates with equal fervour, licking inside his mouth and over his tongue.

Strong hands wind around his waist, pressing him as close as humanly possible.

“That was,” Jisung begins, at loss for words. “Wow.”

Minho chuckles, his eyes soft and attentive. “Everything okay?”

Slotting their mouths again, Jisung leaves a playful nip on his bottom lip. “More than that. It was perfect.” And then, after a moment of silence, Jisung watches as Minho’s eyes soften further when he adds, “You were perfect.”

Minho blinks slowly at him, just like Salem would do if Jisung scratched him on the right spot on his stomach. Connecting their lips again, Minho makes him forget about time entirely – he keeps him in his embrace for hours on end, letting Jisung go only when he switches their positions, Minho towering above him.

They whisper sweet promises as they kiss into the wee hours of the morning. And when Jisung can’t hold off sleep any longer, being only a human in vampire’s bed, he falls asleep in Minho’s arms, to the feeling of his fingers raking through his hair, so gently it never manages to wake him up.

When he sees the sunlight again after hours of dreamless slumber, Minho is there to greet him, his eyes shining golden in the morning. He kisses him with a smile, and Jisung feels like he has just found the heart of the haunted house.