Chapter Text
[mood board #1]
A young man slumps into the seat next to Chan’s mere minutes before pushback. He’s visibly flustered and out of breath, all but flaunting his humanity. The man’s bleached hair is brushed back to reveal a tall forehead and elf-like ears and a single silvery earring, which glimmers in the stark overhead lights.
The cabin crew is running around making sure people have their seatbelts fastened and tray tables folded, and Chan uses it as a distraction to steal tiny sideways glances at the man. He’s flipping through the safety booklet with unseeing eyes, plump bottom lip sucked between his teeth in pretend concentration.
Quite frankly, it would be hard not to look.
The unopened copy of ‘Carmilla‘ lies forgotten on Chan’s lap. Back in Sydney he went through multiple antiquarians to find one in perfect condition, but now he doesn’t feel much like reading. The bright lights of the cabin make his sensitive eyes ache, and his nose burns from the overload of scents.
“Long day, huh?” the man suddenly asks. He speaks Korean with a slight accent.
Chan turns his head to look at him straight in the eye, brows raised in disbelief that the stranger has initiated conversation. Most people steer clear of Chan on instinct.
“I just thought you looked a bit tired, you know –“ he continues while waving his hands awkwardly in Chan’s direction. Chan can hear how the man’s heartbeat quickens – it reminds him of the fluttering wings of a hummingbird. Perhaps his body is sensing the hypothetical danger better than his rational mind.
Chan smiles inwardly. He reaches a hand to tug at the rim of his knitted beanie.
”I look like this all the time.”
The man doesn’t seem to know how to answer, mouth opening and closing uselessly a few times.
“I don’t look that bad, do I?” Chan jokes. He taps at the inner corner of his eye with the pad of his pointer finger, knowing by heart how the purple shadow glows through his thin, pale skin.
“Of – of course not,” the man hurries to say, and Chan nearly feels bad for teasing him.
The blond man appears slim and bony under his thick hoodie, but there is a sense of intense liveliness to him. His hands are in constant search of something to hold, to touch, and his leg bounces once in a while. It’s a drastic difference to Chan’s content stoicism.
”I think I’ll try to get some sleep. I had the longest layover because of these cheap online tickets,” he explains as if Chan has actually showed interest. The man has a beautiful smile, even though it’s a nervous one.
”The way you pronounced ’layover’ – Aussie, right?” Chan asks in English.
”Yeah,” the man says, delighted. ”Name’s Felix.”
Chan hesitates, as his own name holds certain renown. Probably nothing to a foreigner, though, so it should be safe.
”Bang Chan.”
Felix doesn’t flinch, which means his guess was right. The man is only seeing the image Chan is trying to portray, for now.
”Nice to meet you,” Felix says, leaning in, and Chan can almost get a clean whiff of his exposed throat. Almost. Chan despises airplanes for this very reason. The air inside the cabin is circulated through filters that leave organic scents distorted and chemical, stripping them of all useful information. Not being able to rely on his superior sense of smell is unnerving. He doesn’t know how this Felix-person is feeling, can’t get a sense of him.
He could be mocking Chan right now, for all he knows.
“Likewise,” Chan belatedly replies.
He fully expects it to be the extent of their conversation, and for a few minutes it seems like it. Chan opens his novel and reads the first paragraph eleven times. Felix keeps shifting the position of his legs, equally distracted.
As soon as the plane takes off, they experience some heavy turbulence. Felix seems intimidated by the frequent tremors and the thick, dark clouds they are climbing through. Chan can’t still smell his fear, but his heartbeat is revealing enough.
Chan feels his tongue tingle with the urge to say something, but he fears that bringing attention to Felix’s distress could be uncalled for.
Felix darts his eyes to Chan, wide open and anxious, and his self-restraint crumbles. “Do you want to talk?”
“That would be nice,” Felix says sheepishly, licking his lips.
“I’m good at listening,” Chan adds, earning a small nod of appreciation from Felix.
Chan places his elbow on the armrest between them, angling himself so that he can comfortably look at Felix. “What would you like to tal–“
He’s rudely interrupted by a particularly large air pocket which sinks the plane down by at least a couple of metres. Felix yelps and grabs the side of Chan’s arm on instinct. He lets go after a split second, as if holding the ice-cold skin has caused him physical pain.
“Wait,” Felix squeaks, his fear of flying long forgotten, “how are you so damn cold?”
Chan leans back in his seat. Felix seems incapable of putting two and two together, and Chan knows he needs to give him time, let the slow realisation simmer in his mind. It’s rather enjoyable to observe Felix’s internal struggle close up – in his natural habitat Chan wouldn’t be mistaken for a human in the first place.
Felix takes a deep breath. “So you must be, uhm. Yeah.”
It’s difficult not to smile. Felix looks utterly lost. Confused, but not repulsed per se.
Chan pulls off his black beanie and runs a hand through his dark hair. He knows it makes him look instantly more aristocratic. After all, he has a certain reputation to uphold.
“Vampire, yes,” he states in a neutral tone. “Honestly speaking, I didn’t know I could be that human-passing.”
“Human-passing,” Felix repeats in a breathy voice. He’s staring at Chan’s exposed forearm, the same patch of skin he accidentally grabbed. “So that’s why you’re wearing nothing but a t-shirt.”
Chan can’t help but chuckle. “Smart observation. I can’t really get any colder than I already am.”
They fall into a brief silence, but it isn’t a particularly uncomfortable one. Felix doesn’t break eye contact, perhaps trying to see if there’s a hint of red in Chan’s irises. There isn’t of course, as Chan was sure to have an entire bag of blood at the hotel, just in case someone happened to get a massively bleeding wound during the flight, and he would have to put up with the smell of fresh blood straight from an artery. It's a slim chance, but Chan likes to be prepared for everything.
When Felix still doesn’t speak, Chan clicks his tongue and says, “look, it’s okay if you don’t want anything to do with me. I’m very good at pretending to be dead.”
“No, I was just surprised,” Felix quickly says, his composure perfect.
“Because I don’t go around running in a velvet cape?”
Felix’s eyes twinkle. “I bet you own a cape or two.”
“I won’t confirm nor deny.”
A flight attendant comes by to take drink orders. Both of them politely decline, Felix’s reasons most likely financial.
“So – are you returning home from important vampire business, or –?” Felix asks.
“I guess you could say that. I’m coming from Sydney but couldn’t take a direct flight. The flight time would’ve been too long,” Chan explains. He straightens his legs as far as they go, which is not much considering that Changbin bought him an economy class ticket just to fuck with him.
”Oh, because of the uhm. Sunlight.” Felix grimaces at the last word as if it’s some kind of horrible curse word.
Chan hums affirmatively. The way Felix tries to be considerate is quite charming actually.
Felix looks like he wants to say something else, but his words are cut off by a particularly chubby toddler who starts screaming at the top of his tiny lungs across the centre aisle. The background noise of the plane is straining for his sensitive ears in its own right, so the added decibels make Chan almost nauseous with sensory overload. Another good reason for him to hate aviation. Felix seems to sense his discomfort, as he waits quietly for the parents to calm their baby down.
Suddenly, Felix starts grinning, which makes his nose scrunch up. Chan can sense that something silly is about to come out of his mouth. He’s not disappointed.
”So, you have like fangs or – something?” Felix looks like a child in a sweet shop.
”You’re genuinely asking me that?” Chan chuckles low from his chest. “They don’t teach that in primary school?”
“I’m Australian. Do you really think vampires would settle down in a hot and humid place like that?” Felix asks, but he catches himself before Chan gets to respond. “But the way you speak –”
This time Chan interrupts him mid-sentence. “I was born in Korea, but I’ve spent long periods of time in Sydney, hence the accent,” he explains. “You are correct, though, the vampire population in Australia is quite small. Nothing like the community in Seoul.”
“I see.”
“I won’t pop my fangs out just for you to ogle at. If you really want to know, you’ll have to find out yourself,” Chan continues.
Felix shivers from head to toe, and Chan wishes once again that he could smell the rapidly changing emotions in him. They must be absolutely delicious.
Merely the thought of Felix’s scent awakens the dormant predator in Chan. It’s the primitive urge to engage in the chase, even if he knows it won’t lead anywhere. The hunt alone is thrilling enough, especially when the pray is this brazen.
”What is your blood type, Felix?” Chan asks, allowing his larynx to drop to create a huskier, deeper voice.
Felix hides it amazingly well, if he gets scared. He doesn’t even recoil to the side like Chan has expected.
”It’s AB. But most people ask for age first,” Felix replies.
”Age has little relevance to me.”
”And blood –?”
Chan lets out a soft laugh. The banter is refreshing. He has grown unaccustomed to the way human minds work. The creatures are always so unpredictable and fascinating.
“Blood is lives.”
Felix raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question his cryptic words.
“May I give you a piece of advice?” Chan asks. “Just as a hyung who knows how expensive and difficult Seoul can be to navigate.”
“Uhh, sure.”
“I don’t know what has been promised to you. With your looks it might as well be a career as an idol or a model. Or perhaps you just want to see the world and hook up with cute Korean girls before succumbing to the values of capitalism. Either way, you should remember what kind of assets you have.” Chan pauses to move his hand over Felix’s. He doesn’t touch, just points at the man’s lithe wrist. “With your rare blood type and appearance, I assure you you’ll never go hungry if you only know where to look.”
Felix seems to understand the implications just beneath the surface, because he yanks his hand away like it has been burned and cradles it carefully in his lap.
The man’s gaze hovers over Chan’s mouth, clear indication that his imagination is going into overdrive. “And wh– why do you feel the need to jump to conclusions about my life?” He clears his throat, loudly. “Are you perhaps alluding to –“
Chan sighs deeply. “Of course not. I’m a civilized vampire. But I’ve also lived a damn long time, and I know how the world operates. One day you’ll be on top of the world, and the next people treat you like a stray kid begging for a bowl of stew. You need to be careful and smart, know your worth.”
“Aren’t you a fun person, hyung,” Felix says, oozing sarcasm.
Chan smirks and reopens his book. This time he’s determined to start reading.
“See Felix, I’m technically not a person. I’m dead.”
•••
The plane lands at Incheon not long before sunrise, and in the scramble to get his luggage from the conveyor and confirm there was going to be a chauffeur with a light-proof car waiting for him, Chan loses sight of Felix. He knows he has managed to frighten and offend the young man, but he doesn’t exactly regret the decision. He would rather see Felix survive in the harsh world than to trip over his sweet naivete and end up in harm’s way.
Chan’s only regret is that he didn’t get the opportunity to see Felix smile one last time, the smile of a free soul in the prime of his young adulthood. It won’t be long before he unavoidably becomes like the rest – hard-boiled and cynical.
Chan retrieves his suitcase and takes a final glance at the terminal hall. No bushy blond hair or a row of gleaming white teeth in sight. Just as he realises he’s being ridiculous and oddly clingy towards the young man, a staff member comes to escort Chan into the light-proof parking garage in the basement, rescuing him from his suddenly budding obsession.
The early morning traffic doesn’t seem to be that bad, although Chan can’t exactly see for himself. The windows of the car are tinted pitch black with special film to reflect UV light.
Chan isn’t able to enjoy the leisurely morning drive for long. His phone buzzes in a demanding tone, and the light from the screen is enough to lit up the passenger compartment in an eerie, electronic glow. It is beyond rude to bother a vampire at the break of dawn, as it is the critical moment defining whether the undead finds shelter and survives to see another rising moon. Even all of his human associates are well aware of the social norm.
Chan brings the phone reluctantly to his ear. ”I’m on my way. Can it wait thirty minutes?”
”It most definitely can’t.” Changbin’s voice at the other end is barely recognisable, void of the usual layers of fondness and respect. ”You need to get home right fucking now.”
It makes Chan perk up, alarmed. He knocks on the glass that separates him from the driver, and the intercom is promptly switched on. He racks his brain for the name – he must’ve at least heard it before since the young human often helps them with day-time errands.
”Excuse me? It’s – Jeongin, right?” he asks.
The slightly distorted voice of the young man comes through immediately. ”Yes, sajangnim?”
”Aish, I remember telling you not to call me your boss – ahh, never mind. I need to get back to Seoul as fast as possible. I’ll take care of the possible speeding tickets.” He spits the words out quickly and anxiously, knowing that Changbin is still at the other end of the line.
”Yes, sir,” Jeongin answers. Chan can feel how the motor of the car wails as it’s pushed to its limits. They are moving much faster than before.
”Talk to me, Changbin.”
”No hyung,” Changbin scoffs, ”you talk to me. What the hell did you do in Sydney that we have the whole Park clan coming after us? Hyunjin was jumped on his way home by some of their goons. Almost punched his right fang clean off. He crawled home right before sunrise and coughed up blood on the Persian carpet. It was a mess.”
Cold, dense worry sloshes inside Chan’s belly, like he’s been pumped full of dry ice. It’s Changbin’s uncharacteristically serious tone of voice, Hyunjin’s injury. The young vampire is tough, but street-smarts only get you so far.
But the absolute worst thing is the fact that Chan is stuck in a tiny metal enclosure barely warding off the treacherous morning sun, which means he can’t do anything. He can’t be there to make sure Hyunjin is okay, or that Changbin doesn’t do something reckless and stupid while angry.
“Maybe they were just some rogue thugs who mistook Hyunjin for an easy target,” Chan suggests, even though it makes no sense even to himself. No one in their right mind dares challenge his clan members, and much less ambush them with uneven numbers.
As expected, Changbin is quick to turn the theory down. “This was not a random attack. They – they held Hyunjin down and beat him to send a message.”
A wave of bright red anger is making Chan’s vision go blurry. His teeth feel heavy on his tongue, and it takes much of his self-restraint not to let his jaws fall open and growl.
”Tell me you can fix this,” Changbin says with a tinge of desperation in his voice, and it startles Chan back to reality.
”Listen, I left Sydney thinking the deal went smoothly. Either there was a huge miscommunication at someone’s end, or we got fucked over.”
”I haven’t heard you swear like that in a century, makes you sound weirdly sexy,” Changbin says in an attempt to lighten the mood. He must have realised how close to breaking point Chan was only a moment ago. ”Wait, hyung, Hyunjin wants to say something. It’s actually kind of funny how he’s got this lisp because the injured fang won’t fully retract. He can’t even fully clo–”
Suddenly there is a loud, banging noise, and something shatters close to the phone’s microphone. The sound is so deafening that Chan has to jerk the device away from his ear. Next, an unfamiliar voice yells something, but Chan can’t make out the words.
”Changbin? Hyunjin?” Chan cries out, hand gripping his phone so tight he might very well end up bending the aluminium frame. ”Answer me!”
But there is only static left, and Chan lets out a howl of despair, knowing someone has breached their lair as the merciless sun climbs over Seoul.