There will be no content warnings for this book throughout. Please visit the book's details to see the content warnings, as the themes from here on out are dark and uneasy.

┏ ✦❘ ༻ 𝖂𝖔𝖔𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌'𝖘 𝓟𝓞𝓥 ༺ ❘✦ ┓

Rain softly pattered down, lining the streets and empty pavement, trickling off of windows and into the city drains, leaving the space surrounding this part of Seoul nearly void; empty. It was quiet here, left with the howl of the moon and a few scattered and crumpled soda cans, riddled with other hints of trash and city litter, though somehow brushed aside, laden around garbage bins and near the alley ways. The buildings gleamed from the indoors, their lights shining out onto the water-streaked asphalt and concrete, bustling with people on the inside, hiding away from the rain on such a cold, gloomy evening.

Jung Wooyoung, nearing the age of twenty-five and slightly shorter in stature with slightly longer locks of black hair, walked through the streets of Seoul with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, hiding the soft fabric of his hoodie that lay beneath. His brows were slightly furrowed as he walked, his airpods well within his ears, hiding him away from meaningless voices and the sound of passing cars as he walked aimlessly on a road he often found himself trekking upon time and time again.

He was trying to make his way back to his apartment that was well within the thicket of this god-forsaken city, lost in the chaos of traffic and people that he hadn't cared to properly meet. Working a random nine to five at a local grocery store was all he could afford to do at the moment, given his circumstances of living with his best friend, Yeosang, for the time being, having to listen as Yeosang gallivanted about happily, sipping wine and romancing his boyfriend at all hours of the day. Wooyoung could care less, his eyes locked onto the view ahead of him, completely blind to the ways of the world as it seemingly swallowed him whole. He just didn't care, as he had nothing within him left to fully care for. He loved Yeosang dearly, but what else was he to have?

He had no family, all of which were dead or have long since moved out of Seoul, and the only friend he had was entranced into a relationship that preoccupied most of his time, leaving Wooyoung to fend for himself, scavenging for money and pouring it all into his savings so that he could one day make his way out of this city and start anew. It wasn't that he hated Seoul, he just hated the memories that were left here. It was laden with graves he didn't wish to visit, lost in a sea of people he didn't care about, and somehow he found himself stuck into the thick of it all, working a meaningless job just so he didn't have to sit at home, alone, in the apartment that his best friend paid for.

The rain was in a relentless pour, beading against the hood of his hoodie, trickling down the fabric of his jacket, clinging to the bottom of his sneakers and ripped jeans as if they were pure magnets. Wooyoung didn't mind walking home from his job every night, especially this late, considering that he could avoid most people at this hour. His job was fairly easy, considering that all he had to do was stock the shelves, sweep the floors, greet customers and run the register every now and then. It didn't require much thought, and that's what Wooyoung liked about it. Though, these hellish late hours, ones that caught him stuck in that place well past midnight, made him question why he signed up for a typical day job, when all it landed him in was the graveyard shift.

Wooyoung would refuse to admit it, but that small semblance of normalcy, even if just for a pathetic grocery store job, brought him a sense of peace. Having his entire childhood uprooted at such a young age made his insatiable need to have stability grow stronger with every year he grew older. He longed and craved for something consistent, but he hadn't found anything to give him that exact feeling. This job, for some reason, gave him just a portion of that, and it somehow was enough to keep him going. Yeosang's kindness, of which he'd never taken for granted, offered a space to sleep and reside for the time being, and though he loved his best friend dearly, he desperately couldn't wait to get away from the sounds of Yeosang's overly enthusiastic love for his boyfriend.

Yeosang was a chaotic friend in his life, but his voice and his laughter brought a warmth into his world that he simply couldn't escape nor part from. Yeosang was a voice of reason, a place to shelter his storms, and someone to laugh with. There was just something about him that was special in ways Wooyoung couldn't describe; maybe aligned with how similar their pasts were without even properly realizing it. Yeosang's parents abandoned him a long time ago after an apparent early conception that they weren't ready for. Yeosang didn't really know his parents, as he grew up in a foster home that wasn't entirely that great, but Yeosang chose not to dwell on it, (or so he insisted).

Wooyoung didn't like to talk about his parents. He never wished to stray into the topic about his trivial upbringing that mostly consisted of jumping from home to home, skipping school, barely graduating from his classes and skipping out on college, pursuing a life of bills and boring adulthood for something that was as bland as Yeosang's music taste.

Yet, here he was, walking back to Yeosang's apartment, fully prepared to sulk into his room and engorge himself in his trope of novels he hadn't finished yet, ignoring whatever noises Yeosang would conjure up tonight at such an hour. Or, maybe he'd be asleep, lost in a trance of dreams and quiet stupor. Wooyoung hoped for option two, as he too, would like to sleep before he woke to do this exact same routine tomorrow evening. But, as luck would have it, the sudden onslaught of rain poured down harder, causing Wooyoung to grimace as he shuffled to a nearby convenience store, hiding beneath the overhang where he'd be momentarily safe from the storm.

He watches another car pass, the windshield wipers moving quickly against the rain as the storm grew in strength, a sudden rumble of thunder slightly shaking the glass of the store behind Wooyoung's back as he stood by and watched, music filling his ears before they suddenly stopped, falling quiet. The muffled noise of rain caught Wooyoung's attention as he reached into his pocket, tapping his phone, finding an alert to see that his airpods had run out of battery. With a roll of his eyes, he carefully takes them out of his ears, reaching a hand into his hoodie pocket for the case before feeling as one of the pods slipped from his hand, tumbling to the slightly wet pavement. Wooyoung's eyes widened as he watched it bounce against the concrete, tumbling and rolling slightly to the edge of the overhang, just out of reach of the threat of rain. With a breath, Wooyoung places his surviving airpod into its case, holding onto the case with his left hand as he knelt down, reaching with his right, just about to grab the small airpod before a blur of black rushes across his vision, the airpod vanishing before he even had the chance to grab it.

He looks up from beneath the hem of his hood, watching as a long black coat moves ahead of him, walking away with the subtle taps of his shoes against the pavement, completely ignorant and oblivious to Wooyoung's stare that was aimed at their back.

"Hey!" Wooyoung shouts, trying to reach the stranger in the hope that they'd stop, but they simply keep walking. "I said hey!"

The stranger stops, if only for a moment, just barely glancing over their shoulder. Wooyoung watches them closely, observing the heft of their trench coat, matched with a tightly-fit ball cap, one of which obscured the stranger's face completely. His skin, from what Wooyoung could tell based upon what was revealed to him, was pale, though he couldn't see anything more than the faintest hint of his lips, maybe the glimmer in his eyes; otherwise leaving him completely in the dark as to who this even was. However, the stranger keeps walking without a word, turning the corner to venture into the alley way, leaving with what Wooyoung assumed to be his stolen, and likely broken, airpod.

With a sigh, he shoves himself upright, sliding the airpod case into his pocket again before chasing after the random stranger, his steps heavy and quick in their chase.

"Hey asshole!" Wooyoung calls out after he turns the corner, watching as the figure slows before it pauses, just barely swaying as they stand in the middle of the alley. "You have something of mine, don't you?"

The figure doesn't move, nor do they turn, simply standing still in the midst of the downpour and vacant alley. Wooyoung takes a step closer, unafraid and oddly brazen.

"When someone talks to you, it's common courtesy to talk back! Especially when you've taken something of theirs." Wooyoung raises a brow, scaling his eyes down the stature of this figure, wondering why someone as tall with such wide shoulders, seemingly brooding with expensive taste, would ever need to steal something as measly as a singular airpod.

"Why are you blaming me?" The stranger answers back, his voice low and sultry, though lacking any pure intensity.

"You're the only person outside in this shit except for me!" Wooyoung responds, walking a few steps closer, planting himself within arm's length of this imposing figure. "Just give it back to me, man. I'm not in the mood for this shit."

"You're quite callous," the male responds, turning his head slightly to glance over his shoulder. "You would so daringly walk into a dark alley with a stranger, demanding something from them when you can't trust their next move?"

Wooyoung's words suddenly ran cold, settled on the back of his tongue, struggling to rush free.

"Hm," the male hums menacingly, a slight laugh at the back of his throat. "Cat's got your tongue, huh?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened, lips parting in an attempt to speak, but his entire facade melts the moment the figure before him shifts into a mass of black, rushing from view until he could feel their breath touching the skin of his cheek.

"What's wrong?" The male asks, a smile evident through his voice. "Where'd that brazen attitude go? All of those big words, so threatening and mean–" he cuts himself off, leaning closer, "–for what?"

Wooyoung shifts himself away, turning around quickly with the feeling of his heart thudding away in his chest, only to find that the male was not there.

"Let me guess–" the male continued, now coming from a different direction. Wooyoung looked around frantically, feeling as the storm only continued to rain down upon him. "It's all an act, right? All tough on the outside, yet scared on the inside? What are you running away from?"

Wooyoung turns and turns, glancing to every dark corner of this barren alley, slowly beginning to reach for his phone. He didn't know if Yeosang would be awake, nor if the male would even answer a call at this hour, but he needed someone to know where he was. He needed to call the police or to do something– but his phone wasn't there. His pockets were emptied; wallet, phone, airpod case, all gone.

"Oh, you're scared now," the male continues to tease in a tantalizing murmur, a hum evident in the depth of his voice. Wooyoung could hear the amusement, almost as if this man was a predator eyeing his prey after being starved for so long. He was enjoying this, whatever this was, and Wooyoung couldn't help but feel his heart thrum away in his ears. He was terrified, glancing around every single dark corner in search of the male, but he was nowhere to be found.

"What are you even doing walking down the street this late at night?" The male asks, though still lurking in the depths, anywhere from a place that Wooyoung couldn't see. "Vulnerable. . . alone. . . almost as if you're asking for someone to take you."

"I'm on my way home from work–" Wooyoung sneers out, his voice trembling slightly, but not enough to fizzle out the pure anger within his words.

"So human of you," the male continues, a soft laugh following his words. "So desperately, annoyingly human of you."

Human? Wooyoung pauses, his hands slowly curling into fists as he stands there, feeling the rain cast down over him like a heavy, burdening cloud, weighing down his clothes and sinking to his skin, making him nearly icy to the touch.

Turning around in a near-pivot, Wooyoung searches the scape, the sudden flash of lightning creating a completely chaotic, yet eerie feeling across the small, barren alley. The light flashes against the side of buildings and chain-link fences, glimmering against dirtied trash cans and litter, sparkling alive dormant corners that once remained dark before flashing to life, now cast across in the cusp of a shadow once more.

Wooyoung counts each rumble of thunder, turning to a different corner with just his gaze, watching as the lightning flashes another darkened space, finding no trace of the male hidden and lurking, like a shark just beneath the surface.

"You're playing right into my game," the male sneers playfully, his voice an uneasy rumble that sends a further chill up Wooyoung's spine. "Why haven't you just run? Why stick around when you know you'll never find me?"

Wooyoung continues to count the thunder and wait for the strikes of lightning, racing his gaze to separate corners and different inlets, searching for the male by any means necessary. He comes up empty-handed each and every time, but he continues, searching and searching until he feels his heart quicken in the depth of his chest.

"C'mon–" the male hums, his voice uneasily close, eerily cold, spiteful and yet so amused. "Just give in. Why bother trying to look for me?"

Wooyoung swallows harshly, his brows pinching together as he waits for each illumination from the weather's angry sparks of lightning, but the sound of the male's voice becomes even closer, nearly pressing against the back of his ear.

"Is there a reason you haven't looked behind you?" He warns curiously, the smirk in his tone audible. "Or are you too scared that if you turn around, I'll be right there, right in front of you, just in the way you fear?"

Wooyoung freezes, the sound of rain cast askew with the sudden realization that he could feel a breath on the back of his neck. The hair on his arms stands upright, the chill of goosebumps alight beneath the hem of his clothing; he was petrified. He didn't know who he was looking for, as he had yet to properly see this man's face, but his voice was an electric current of amusement and uneasy chill, someone that had found the thrill in making others uncomfortable, or maybe even finding joy in watching their prey squirm.

Lightning flashes, and for a moment, Wooyoung debates on just running. He could take off in a sprint, run down the alley and bang on someone's door, hopeful that his yelling and obvious outburst of noise could deter this creep from getting a hold of him, but he still had nothing. His phone, his wallet, any means to communicate– gone.

He counts and he waits, listening to the thunder loom above like some sort of final death call, a terrifying precursor for what was to come. He waits, listening as the male continues to talk in a tantalizing, evil manner, murmuring words of an apparent disarray in the near future, bringing his heart to pace against the curve of his chest, thumping away in the length of his jugular. On a brazen whim, Wooyoung turns as the flash of lightning strikes, watching as the male's face appears before him.

He had sharp features, pale skin and deeply crimson colored hues. His hair was black and slightly long, cast over his eyes partially and curled behind his ears. His shoulders were wide just like he had seen, but the jut of his jaw and the subtle pink of his lips contrasted with the hue of his skin. He didn't look human at all, making Wooyoung wonder at just who he had dared to chase down so rashly.

"Found me, didn't you?" He amuses, raising a hand quickly, wrapping his cold palm and fingers around the sill of Wooyoung's throat. "How entertaining are you?"

Wooyoung gasps, his hand shooting upwards to grab the male's wrist, trying to steady himself as he feels the male walk him backwards forcibly with a strength he hadn't anticipated. The male eyes him with a smirk, his grip tightening and unrelenting. Wooyoung gasps again, his other hand reaching up to dare and strike at the male, but he moves, likely having anticipated any sort of defiance and act of defense. The male was stronger, quicker, taller; everything Wooyoung could've hoped against. This was calculated, an attack on someone venturing alone in the depth of night, drawing them into an even darker alley, away from prying eyes and those who would dare to walk in the pouring onslaught of rain. Wooyoung felt tears surge over the curl of his lashes, streaking down his cheeks as he accepted the fatality of his life, acknowledging that this would be his last memory, his last breath, his last sight of this reality. But that was okay.

What was his life anyway? A meaningless bout of tangled thoughts, stemming from the accident that took his parents, down to the very fact that he could hardly afford to take care of himself? He was miserable in a sense, lost in a world where he felt to have no purpose, floating in the abyss, hoping that someone would reach out and just grab him; though no one ever did.

Yeosang won't miss me. He has Jongho. Maybe. . . I'll get to see my parents again.

Part of him dives into acceptance, relishing in the idea of taking his pain away from living in a world as cruel as this, but the other half of him, the rational part, is terrified. Yeosang was the one person he only truly had, and he would never want to disappear from his life. But with this, with no way out and no way to convince this unknown male otherwise, he felt as if his choices were merely slipping out of reach, dancing away from his fingertips and down into the puddles lining the alley, far from anything he could ever tether himself to.

"I can hear your heart racing," the male murmurs, leaning closer, delicately tilting his head to the right, bringing his lips near Wooyoung's ear. "How it beats, how your blood rushes through the arteries and chambers, thumping away against your chest so strongly, even though the very essence of such an organ is so fragile."

Wooyoung watches him, wide-eyed and struggling for breaths, his fingers curled so tightly around the male's wrist that held him against the wall, his grip tightening with every passing beat of his heart.

"You've got nice veins," he muses, adjusting his grip as his opposite hand trails a delicate line against Wooyoung's jugular vein, the male's eyes filled with a certain eerie awe. "It's a shame I can't keep you for myself."

Keep me? Wooyoung feels as the male's hand shifts, now cupping his jaw and releasing his throat, allowing a freeing breath to sink into his lungs, causing his eyelids to flutter in relief. Carefully, Wooyoung allows his head to be turned, exposing the depths and curve of his neck as the male moves his clothing out of the way, brushing it even further aside. Wooyoung can't see him, he can't make out his expression, nor can he see the smirk pulled on his lips, but he can feel them. The warm press of a breath melts against his vulnerable, cold skin, tingled with the sensation of curled lips slowly beginning to press against his skin.

"No–" Wooyoung mutters through clenched teeth, pressing a hand against the male's chest. "Stop–! What are you doing?!"

"Stay still." The male's voice was a hiss, loud enough to break through the impasse of looming thunder and pouring rain, an uneasy command that immediately pushed Wooyoung to do as he was told, even if he didn't much want to.

Wooyoung freezes, shutting his eyes tightly as a subtle plea breathes from his lips, trembling with the weight of his laden fear.

"Please–" Wooyoung rasps out, feeling his lip quiver. "Don't hurt me."

"Oh, you poor thing," the male responds huskily, keeping his tone low and rumbling, smiling as he leans away. Wooyoung's eyes open in time to watch as the male's gaze pierces into his own, staring him down without an ounce of guilt. "Who said I was done with you?"

"I'm not saying that," Wooyoung mutters, trying to force himself to remain composed, even though he felt anything but. "I'm asking you to just let me go. I don't care about what you did or didn't take. I have someone waiting on me–"

"Shame now, isn't it?" The male's head tilts, the deep crimson of his eyes slightly glimmering when lightning strikes again, the rain remaining unrelenting. "You tell me one thing, yet you're thinking another–"

Wooyoung's eyes widened, his jaw tightening.

"Who's Yeosang?" He asks, smiling deviously. "He has Jongho, right?"

Wooyoung feels his face drain of blood, his expression falling away, the trembling within his hands now shifting to rush through his entire body, but Wooyoung wasn't too entirely sure he could blame the shaking on the threat of rain soaking through his clothes, either.

"Mm, hit another nerve, did I?" The male laughs, his grip loosening slightly, though his gaze remains unrelenting. "Tell me. . . why is it that you walk around here alone? There's always people watching you, you know."

"I don't have a car," Wooyoung spits out, watching as this male nods, his smirk never fading.

"Such a pretty boy," the male muses, arching his brow. "It's a shame, really."

"Shame?"

"Stay still," the male commanded again, but Wooyoung panicked. He pressed his hand into the male's chest again, gripping his shirt, bundling the fabric into his fist, trying to gauge some kind of control in a situation that left him nearly helpless.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait–" Wooyoung breathes out, but the male persists, tightening his grip once more.

"Sorry, pretty. Time is ticking–" he insists, leaning closer again, fanning his breath against the curve of Wooyoung's throat. "And I'm hungry."

What?!

Before Wooyoung could protest any further, he felt the press of lips against his neck, followed by the grip of teeth. He gasps at the pressure of fangs sinking beneath the surface of his skin, diving into the depth of his jugular, slowly but surely pulling blood out of his body and into the mouth of this male. Wooyoung smacks and pulls at the male's chest and shirt, tightening the grip on the male's wrist as he struggles to get himself free from his grasp.

The rain felt like a near-murmur of sensations compared to everything that was happening. The sucking, pulling and draining feeling was all heightened, thrilled by the cool press of lips and sharp intrusion of fangs, though softly illuminated by the gleam of lightning.

Wooyoung can't breathe. He can't speak, can't push away, can't escape; he's helpless. He wants to scream and cry, to plead and beg, but he ultimately felt as if he could do nothing. He can feel the life fleeing from his body, the once racing beat of his heart sinking into a depressive lull, slowing down until Wooyoung could barely feel it alive within his chest.

His vision blurs, his ears slowly beginning to ring, the world around him trickling down to the sensation of the blood draining out of his body. He can feel the pulse of the male's fangs within his throat, the grip of his hand slowly beginning to uncurl as the will to fight drains away, dissipating into the night. The figments of what once was had gone, flashing glimpses of a life he once claimed to hate, rather loathe, now fleeting at the edge of his finger tips. He was hanging on by a thread, clinging to the pelting of rain against his skin and the fangs pierced into his throat.

I can't breathe. I can't stop him, I can't move–

Then, suddenly, it all stops. The male backs away, his eyes burning with an angry hunger that Wooyoung can't quite place before the blur of darkness clouds over most of his vision. He was dizzy, leaning against the wall, trying to shove the male away from him, though his push held hardly any strength at all.

The male steps backwards, his hand fleeing away, retreating to his side, though Wooyoung can feel the sting of his pulse thumping back to life just beneath the pressure of his fresh bite.

"Who–" Wooyoung begins, watching as the male before him wipes a trace of blood from his lip. "Who are you?"

The male simply stands there, his eyes searching and studying Wooyoung as he leans against the wall, his chest heaving, the tension in his shoulders palpable. For a moment, he likely considers a response, trailing over the place where he had bitten Wooyoung, followed by the sight of his disheveled clothes and soaking wet hair, followed by the newly-found pallor adorning his skin. Wooyoung felt overly drained, at a loss of life as his heart struggled to keep beating, pumping barely any blood throughout his system in an effort to try and keep him awake.

"No one you need to remember," he murmurs, stepping closer once more, pressing a finger beneath Wooyoung's chin. "You won't remember an ounce of this in the morning, anyway."

"Who– who says I won't?" Wooyoung asks raspily, pressing his hand against the wall, feeling the harsh press of bricks lay against his palm.

"You're going to faint," he says assuredly, his expression no longer holding the same smirk or arrogance. He was different, colder, less. . . crucifying. He felt to be more of a person, even if all of the dark red in his eyes and the blood on his tongue expressed differently. "You'll see soon enough. Don't worry, you won't see me again."

"But–"

Before Wooyoung could brother to express differently, the world shuffled to spin once more, twirling like a carousel twisting him around on his axis, shifting his vision into that of a darkening abyss. Wooyoung felt his knees buckle, his eyes flutter shut, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

He collapses to the ground, droplets of water crashing up and falling away, settling over his body as he laid down helplessly on the asphalt. The world falls away, his mind rolling to a place of numbness, accompanied by the faint flicker of a burning memory.

Wooyoung doesn't hear the male leave, nor does he wake in time to feel the deeply embedded stare that the male hovers over him, trailing over his barely heaving chest and the soft quiet of a murmuring heart. Wooyoung lays there, unconscious, yet somehow alive, laid in the alley as the storm finally rumbles to a halt.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✟⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The ache and sting of an unfamiliar pain lingers as Wooyoung peels his eyes awake, a hand reaching for his head as he studies the surroundings barren before him. The alley was quiet, softly illuminated by the rise of the morning sun and its palette of colors, glowing gently against the puddled rainwater that had accumulated over the night. Slowly, Wooyoung sits himself upright, wincing as a throbbing pain within his head becomes apparent.

"Aish–" Wooyoung breathes out harshly, biting his tongue, feeling his jaw tighten as he fights off the flood of pain shooting through his nervous system. He glances around, just briefly, wincing all the same as he studies his environment, wondering why he had been in an alley near his job, alone and adorning soaking wet clothes. His hair was tousled, wet and slightly curled at the edges, an unwelcome shower that he wasn't exactly thrilled about. He lets a sigh roll through his lungs, gently leaning his head backwards, feeling the press of bricks against his hair.

His hand reaches down, feeling the familiar shapes of his phone and wallet within the depth of his hoodie, pulling the device free with a relief that was unlike him. He barely could recall anything that had happened, but the glimmer of a memory runs stark.

He taps his device awake, watching as the screen flickers alive with the last bits of his battery remaining. The ache and throb of a wound causes him to pause, reaching a hand upwards towards his neck, feeling as two bumps on the side of his throat cause a strike of concern.

Wooyoung opens his camera, his brows pinching together, flipping his back camera around to the front facing one, watching as he spots two small holes appear on the side of his neck, bruised and scabbed over, yet reddened with irritation.

His eyes widen, his breath hitching, a sudden memory flooding over his gaze as the remnants of his mysterious night suddenly become apparent. His touch lingers, tracing a delicate shape over his small wound, feeling the sudden glare of familiar eyes bore into his cortex, sending a chill up his spine.

"You won't remember an ounce of this in the morning, anyway," he had said, almost sure of himself.

But, Wooyoung can see him. The sharp jut of his jaw, the pale iciness of his skin, the deep crimson of his eyes and the delicate glimmer of his fangs. Wooyoung could feel his heart race in remembrance, the delicate thrill of lips against the column of his throat, brushing against the freshly vulnerable skin hiding his jugular.

He didn't lose his memories, but he rather kept them, surviving the fateful encounter with a being he hadn't known existed. In a world he wanted to ignore, to hide away from and shelter himself in the darkness, Wooyoung feels an icy rush of terror sink into his skin.

He didn't only survive an attack, but he rather survived an attack from someone unalive.

The pallor of his skin, the ability to hear one's thoughts, the sharp press of fangs and the urge to feast – this male, whoever he was, was a vampire.

Wooyoung should be afraid, he knows that. But yet, all he can think about is everything he'd do in order to track him down.