Chapter Text
It was the first time in almost a century that Wooyoung was suspicious of his eternal promised partner.
It started on a night as ordinary as any other, before they left the residence to hunt. There was something different about San's behavior, a peculiar rigidity in every blink and every turn of his head that was unusual for his always serene demeanor. A small wrinkle between his eyebrows betrayed worry, but it dissipated with the same subtlety with which it arose, making Wooyoung doubt its existence.
This was new. It indicated an unresolved internal conflict, yet no thought crossed that beautiful head without his knowledge. What could be bothering San so much, and why hadn't he shared the problem yet?
And if it were just that, Wooyoung could close his eyes and move on, but then came that… scent. In the following nights, subtly, he noticed a different aroma following his beloved's steps. After spending countless decades in his company, it was impossible not to notice that unexpected change, contrasting with their reality: San carried the essence of a human within him. That was the best way to describe it: as if arabesques of humanity snaked through the air around him, a little weakened, but always present.
This was suspicious. San's heart hadn't beaten for at least ninety-five years, and Wooyoung's had stopped long before that. So, where did that sickeningly sweet aroma of life come from?
At first, he tried to not think about it too much. It was normal for remnants of vitality to remain in their bodies for a certain period, especially after feeding: the blush on their cheeks, the renewed brightness in their pupils, the perfume from the prey's clothing. The problem was the lack of variation. It was always that same specific note, almost imperceptible, but still there — accusatory. It wasn't the smell of blood, of fear, of damp soil, or asphalt dust against the skin after a fall during a chase. It was a soft, nostalgic, and warm scent, with no indication of stress; as if he had spent an entire day hugging a secondhand sweater, or stretched out on a rock under the morning sun (which, for a vampire, was obviously impractical). Wooyoung once tried to inquire about it, and what he received from San was a poor attempt to change the subject.
It was undeniable that something was altering his partner's behavior, and it wasn't long before this fact ruined Wooyoung's sleep. Literally.
Ever since his canines pierced his beloved's veins and brought him to the underworld, they shared a special bond, as if their spirits were united. And since San started acting strangely in his presence, Wooyoung never woke up fully rested at night. The feeling was like a void inside him; a small fragment silently removed from his soul, which hurt with every minute they spent apart.
This was worrying, to say the least. It didn't make any sense, because when he woke up from his deep slumber at dusk, San was always by his side and showed no signs of having left.
Always…
Until the disrupted routine made Wooyoung wake up earlier than usual. Distrust and worry had consumed him to such an extent that, on one occasion, he opened his eyes in the early afternoon, disturbed by the sound of crows circling the crypt in the garden. And the dark space around him was empty.
This was the final push to turn the doubt in his core into annoyance. He could ignore the constant tension or the human essence radiating from San's pores, but dealing with his absence was more than Wooyoung could bear. What the hell was he doing? After almost a century of being together, wasn't it a little late to keep secrets?
Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung pushed the coffin lid up, examining the claustrophobic surroundings. There were no traces of San inside the cold stone walls, and the adjacent coffin was also empty.
"Darling?" He murmured, fighting off the afternoon lethargy and standing up.
Everything seemed excessively bright and noisy, even though the crypt doors were tightly closed and the small stained-glass window high above allowed only a sliver of light to enter. His eyes burned and his throat was dry as if he had swallowed dust, but nothing bothered him as much as the lack of response.
"Sannie?" He called again, something he shouldn't need to do. San usually remained at his disposal, appearing at the first whisper no matter where he was, with that pair of curious and adorable eyes yearning to know what was troubling him.
Something was very wrong.
Crossing the underground passage that connected the crypt to the cellar, Wooyoung searched for him on both floors of the building, room by room, feeling filled with unease as he was greeted by the dense and morbid silence. No sign of San, neither of his light footsteps in the kitchen, nor of the soft hiss from the gramophone as he revisited his old record collection, nor of the sharp chime from the typewriter in the office.
"Where did you hide…" Wooyoung muttered to himself, crossing an arched passageway and reaching the other end of the residence, in the hallway of the main entrance.
That's when his eyes landed on the corner of the wall, next to the coat rack, where there was only one of the umbrellas they reserved for special occasions.
A strange weight compressed his heart, increasing the interval between the naturally slow beats.
Going out during the day wasn't impossible or unusual; but it demanded a lot of energy, left them vulnerable, and halved their reflexes. They usually did it in emergency situations, such as when they were struck by sudden bouts of thirst or when some disturbance in the vicinity forced them to go on alert. Whatever the reason, they never, ever left without warning or leaving a message.
Despite the chronic fatigue hanging from his eyelids, Wooyoung's mind worked at full speed in search of an explanation; not because he was paranoid or possessive, but because San’s absence directly influenced his well-being. To transform a person was to consume them completely, to share his own blood with them and ensure that the same eternal curse also ran through their veins. For all intents and purposes, it was to give up a part of himself that would never return and to accept that small, perennial void that would settle in his chest. A void that would be felt more intensely as the physical distance also increased. It was a painful sacrifice, and Wooyoung always knew the risks, but when he needed to awaken San again after losing him too young to a lung disease, it seemed a fair price to pay.
For this reason, Wooyoung had to find him, or at least discover how long it would take for him to return — anything that could soothe the emptiness in his heart.
Initially, he could deduce that San wasn’t in immediate danger, or he would’ve already resorted to some kind of alert system such as echolocation. There were no signs of struggle or resistance in the rooms, meaning he had left of his own accord. If he didn't follow his usual pattern of letting Wooyoung know where he was going, then he was deliberately withholding information, and this need to lie could only mean it wasn't a good thing.
Conclusion: Wooyoung had to investigate, as there was a chance his partner was putting his own existence (or both of theirs) at risk.
Even though Wooyoung trusted him with a part of his own soul, he still felt the need to take care of San no matter how much time had passed. The man hadn't been human for nine decades, yet Wooyoung still saw him as that naive and kind romance writer who was dangerously impressionable. It was natural that, on peculiar occasions like this, Wooyoung felt the urgency to protect him (or at least check that everything was alright).
Luckily, there was one advantage to that constant absence under his sternum: it didn't disappear, it just shifted. Wooyoung could feel it, like a fragile cord wrapped around his ribcage, becoming more taut every second, as if pulling him in an attempt to reunite their halves. And it was close. If he concentrated a little more of his energy, taking advantage of the remnants of power flowing through his system thanks to the fresh blood from the previous night, he could track him. It was a somewhat extreme measure, but… he only needed to check what San was up to, for a (completely rational and justified) matter of safety. Nothing more than that.
So that's what Wooyoung did, his silhouette dissolving into a cascade of black smoke and crawling out the door.
⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆
At the highest point of the square, under the large copper bell of the church, a shadow materialized. It was the ideal spot: not too far from the two-story house, and with a wide view of the avenue stretching to the horizon, dotted with intersections. From there, Wooyoung could clearly see the territory, even though the reflection of winter sun on shop windows forced him to squint.
That unsettling tug in his chest had weakened slightly, which should mean he was getting closer to his target. Slowly, he analyzed each sidewalk, each park, and each bus stop, lingering at the slightest sign of movement and carefully observing the passersby, until…
There.
His heart raced like emergency sirens as he recognized a familiar silhouette walking down an adjacent street, partially covered by a black umbrella. At first glance, nothing seemed wrong with San’s image; no hesitation in his carefree walk, no wrinkles on his neutral expression. Besides not being in a risky situation, he demonstrated determination as he moved, as if he were sure of where he should arrive.
Perhaps that was part of a routine? How long had he been leaving without his knowledge, and why?
Intrigued, Wooyoung adjusted his posture on the ledge and continued to observe. There was something interesting about how San dressed: remarkably casual, a simple combination of gray sweatshirt, jeans, chain belt, and combat boots — not at all consistent with the elegant 1930s style that flooded his wardrobe.
For some mysterious reason, San was interested in looking normal (or rather, "modern"). He wanted to blend in. And not just in his outfit, because if Wooyoung was seeing correctly, he had also resorted to the artifice of subtle makeup to disguise the death on his face. The blond hair slightly longer at the nape of his neck was carefully combed, a few strands falling purposefully over his forehead.
Camouflage. An obvious indication of interaction with humans.
Oblivious to the pair of eyes watching him from above, San crossed the street and disappeared through the glass door of a shop. The distance prevented Wooyoung from understanding more details, and despite knowing that everything seemed fine, the emptiness in his chest wouldn't let him leave. What if something happened when he turned his back? What if, on that very day, there was some unforeseen event and his partner needed help?
In theory, he shouldn't even be there, but from the moment he was… he couldn't ignore that fact. He would stay close a little longer, again for safety, at least until he found out what San’s intentions were.
To do so, he needed to gain territory and expand his field of vision. There was a considerable amount of distance between the church roof and that specific street, which could be easily covered with a few minutes' walk, but Wooyoung wouldn't subject himself to doing that under the circumstances he found himself in. The sun hid beneath a persistent layer of thick clouds – but it could return at any moment – and sleep deprivation prevented him from trusting the strength of his own muscles. Along with each task performed by his senses, that same dangerous lethargy accompanied him, and if he were to succumb in the middle of the pavement by accident… the sudden appearance of celestial light could corrode his skin or, before that, his inert body would be classified as dead (rightfully so) and things would become even more complicated.
In an attempt to avoid unpleasant surprises, Wooyoung turned his energies to a second alternative, surrounding himself once again with dark mist and relinquishing his current corporeal form.
⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆
A gentle breeze swayed the treetops, making leaves whisper at strategic angles and offering a partial view of the building facade. Balancing with mastery, a small black cat moved from branch to branch, finding the perfect spot to continue its investigations.
As a shapeshifter, Wooyoung liked his feline form. It was agile and discreet, silent, guaranteed access to unusual environments, facilitated avoidance of social interactions, and its soft fur protected him from the heat. Knowing that he would hardly be found among the verdant branches, he tucked his paws under his body and lay down in the shade, directing his gaze towards the open glass door.
The first point of identification was San.
Standing with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets, he tapped his foot on the ground and looked around expectantly, which seemed perfectly natural to him. It was a trait that Wooyoung admired, in fact: despite the century weighing on those shoulders, San still preserved the same anxious and naive mannerisms from when his body overflowed with life. His eyebrows still arched gently, his sharp gaze remained kind, and at the corner of his lips lay a permanent upward curve: a sweet joviality that withstood the inclement weather and refused to be replaced by the tragic, weary elegance of others of their kind.
In the rare moments when Wooyoung could observe him away from the darkness of the crypt or the familiar shadows between corridors, it was as if he were gazing at his beloved for the first time. As if he were seized again by the initial obsession that had gripped him when he met San on the shores of a lake, "seeking inspiration." The curiosity, the peculiar way of seeing the world, and the tenderness emanating from every pore and every gesture still ricocheted against Wooyoung to this day, awakening the desperate feeling of 'I love you so fucking much' that continued to reverberate in his chest with every interaction.
San always shone before his eyes, and thanks to that long interval of contemplation, the little black cat took a while to focus on exactly where the other was.
So the next thing to catch his attention was the myriad of objects around him: books. On shelves, countertops, on tables, and on the walls. Wherever he looked, there they were, in different aspects and states of preservation: a sea of paper surrounding his beloved like a castaway. Wooyoung's keen sense of smell picked up a combination of varnish, fine dust, and that same nostalgic, warm note that he couldn't quite name but that was undeniably human. Looking upwards, towards the rectangular sign on the building facade, Wooyoung analyzed the sequence of large letters in an ornate font: Second-Hand Experiences.
A used bookstore.
Just seconds after that realization, he witnessed San's wait come to an end. Through the glass, he noticed another presence approaching, emerging from the back of the establishment and awakening his curiosity.
"All I managed to get for today were just three copies, Sannie," a deep, soft voice broke through the shelves, muffled by the distance.
Sannie?
The deliberate use of that nickname was enough to test Wooyoung's balance on the tree branch. He didn't remember any of the couple's friends in that area, and even less so one who could be found at such an unusual hour. The relentless passing of years had robbed them of all the people important to them, forcing them to say goodbye to family and acquaintances permanently. The few connections they had left could be summed up by their kin in the shadows; peculiar figures they had met throughout the century, also immortal, who shared their secret and wandered only after the sun set. As far as they were concerned, Mingi had been out of town for a few weeks, and Seonghwa lived in the ruins of a country house, purposely far from the commercial center because he hated being around humans. Any other interaction with living beings was usually fleeting, banal enough to be mentioned in a casual conversation but too irrelevant to repeat.
That didn't seem to be either of those alternatives. The only reason for such intimacy, therefore, was that it was far from the first time the target of his investigation had set foot there.
Before he could crane his neck through the foliage, the owner of the unknown voice reached his field of vision, adding:
"The last few days have been rather chaotic, I haven't been able to search as I’d like… and you arrived a little earlier today, too."
Autumn.
It was a random thought, but one that dominated Wooyoung's mind when he saw the young man inside the bookstore. He was tall, and his hair fell in disarray across his forehead in a faded shade of blond, almost like wheat. His skin was fair, but not sickly pale, as his cheekbones and the tips of his ears seemed rosy (which gave him a certain adorable aura). The warm-toned layers of wool and cotton he wore conveyed softness and settled comfortably over his silhouette.
Wooyoung wouldn't normally care about something so specific, but he was also forced to notice the man's hands. His fingers were slender and his palms seemed broad, considering he was holding three books of different sizes with just one of them. In fact, everything about him stood out in size: the long coat, the brown scarf wrapped extensively around his neck, and the undeniable height that made him tower over San.
The difference between them became even more obvious when the unknown young man rested an arm above San's head, on a shelf right behind him, reducing the distance between them to hand over the books. There was gentleness in his body language, a sympathy that also overflowed from his round eyes, which watched curiously as San flipped through the pages of the first volume.
Wooyoung decided he didn't like him. And he liked even less the way the human analyzed San from head to toe, fixing the gaze on his lips as he watched them opening to express gratitude.
“It's okay, Yunho. The simple fact that you're helping me already makes me happy, because alone I would never know where to start.”
“Are you sure it has to be this specific edition? What you're looking for must exist in abundance on the internet.”
“Yes, it's important to be this exact date… let's say it's about honoring tradition. And… I'm not very good with all the virtual stuff, I prefer analog research.”
“Isn't that even more complicated?” The man smiled, intrigued. “Especially for you, as a writer.”
“That's how I got used to working. And honestly, it's been a long time since I've written anything, so… my lack of technological skills never really became a problem.” He set one of the books aside, returning it to the so-called ‘Yunho’ and hugging the other two copies to his chest. “I'll just keep these for now. They're collections separated by decades, which might make my search easier.”
“I could offer more help if you told me what you're planning to do with them.”
“It’s a secret.”
“It's so frustrating when clients don't cooperate…” The young man shrugged. “Knowing your profile is crucial for making accurate recommendations, but you didn't want to tell me what kind of novels you write, and now I can't know the purpose of these century-old manuscripts—”
“The second mention of my novels proves that you're definitely not interested in the client's profile for commercial reasons.”
“Huh? I… Damn, you're clever. Uhm… There's really no chance I could read your books? Can you at least tell me their titles to satisfy my curiosity?”
“Nice try, Yunho, but no. And there's no point in searching on your own because I obviously used a pseudonym.”
“Are you shy? Are you ashamed of your past work?”
“Hm… Something like that. They're too old, so I don't feel confident showing them to anyone nowadays. I used very archaic language, and… the idealized relationship standards of that time are no longer adequate.”
“I promise I won't judge!” He pressed his lips into a small pout, insisting.
“Why are you so interested in this?”
“Because I'm interested in you, and I'm running out of ideas to keep the conversation going and prolong your stay each time you come here.”
The man's honesty was a little surprising to Wooyoung, who, despite noticing the euphoric tension in his behavior, hadn't thought that advances would be made so openly.
“I assure you that such effort won't be necessary, I'll still need to return many times until my goal is fulfilled… especially now that my deadline is getting a little tight…”
“Lucky me, then.” Yunho declared, his soft voice slipping through yet another persistent and (very) beautiful smile.
Wooyoung masterfully recognized that kind of look. It was a sort of contained fascination, very common to manifest in humans when they establish prolonged contact with vampires (even if they didn't know about their existence). It was common, but not something he was used to witnessing firsthand, since they spent most of their time secluded inside the house and the short interactions during night hunts were insignificant. At that moment, under the uncomfortable sunlight coming through the entrance of the used bookstore, that fascination overflowing in Yunho's features was so clear that it made his insides twist.
It couldn't be jealousy. Probably not. Wooyoung had lived for decades long enough to not be familiar with the concept of insecurities, and San's loyal love had never given him reason to weaken his conviction.
Even so, somehow, there he was, balancing on the branches of a tree with irritated pupils, a dry throat, and lethargy preventing his mind from functioning at full capacity, just because his beloved was out of the coffin at a time he shouldn't be, smiling in a way he didn't usually smile at just anyone, and being watched by someone who wouldn't stop looking at him, someone who shouldn't be looking at him.
No, Wooyoung wouldn't classify that as jealousy; it was more like a protective instinct than anything else. The closeness that stranger was establishing around San was what worried him, because his beloved wasn't always able to recognize bad intentions in other people's hearts. Between the two, it was San who most enjoyed the presence of humans, perhaps because of the reminiscence of when he was still alive. He enjoyed watching them fill bars and avenues at night, and walking among them. He was inspired by their persistence and admired the changes brought about by the advance of modernity, distracting himself with their diverse creations and behaviors. It had been like that for years, and it was probably one of the only things that still encouraged him to leave the crypt besides his bloodlust.
Judging by his attitude (distributing gentle smiles with adorable dimples as he huddled against the shelf and raised his eyes to gaze at the other man), safety seemed to be the least of his concerns. San also knew how charming he was, and was enjoying the new attention — perhaps even amused by it, considering he hadn't dismissed the previous flirtations.
Human attention. The only thing Wooyoung could never offer.
He was already in his fiftieth year of immortality when he met San: sitting on the grass with notes scattered around him, watching the moonlight on the surface of a lake. The same lake where Wooyoung had just disposed of a corpse after feeding on it. When he spotted the writer, his first thought was to get rid of him (since he was a witness), but something in the way San’s lips met in an adorable, thoughtful pout stopped him. And when the younger man raised his head and smiled, even after seeing the wet ankles of his pants and his blood-stained chin, almost as if he already knew the truth about his nature and had waited his whole life for that unusual encounter… It awakened a deep curiosity in Wooyoung. A curiosity that soon turned into mutual fascination, and over time, evolved into a deep-rooted obsession that they discovered to be classic, fateful love.
However, the years Wooyoung had already spent in seclusion and in that state of almost-life had a debt to collect, specifically involving his way of perceiving the world around him. He no longer possessed the same innocence of someone walking on Earth for the first time, and his inability to feel things as San's brilliant mind did left him with the impression that they inhabited separate universes.
The closest he came to experiencing something genuine (albeit disturbing) was when he held his beloved in his arms, sick and struggling to breathe between violent coughing fits; a heart-wrenching pain he had never felt in his life or since, and which for the first time in five decades brought tears to his eyes. But it was temporary. And when he sacrificed a part of himself so that San could return, he believed that this would bring them closer definitively; Wooyoung’s blood filled his veins, ephemerality and decay ceased to be an obstacle, and they shared the same nocturnal habits. What more could he wish for?
Yes, it should be enough, but perhaps Wooyoung was too ambitious, or had a symbolic kind of thirst that was insatiable, because this distance that bothered him seemed to persist. His erodible mind couldn't keep up with his immortal body, and occasionally he encountered signs that Time was leaving him behind. On the other hand, San's youthful spirit — his Sannie — still retained the particular sensitivity of humans as if it were just a game. Some people dealt with it better than others, and he seemed lucky in that regard. Therefore, it was inevitable that sometimes Wooyoung pondered in the seclusion of his intimate thoughts whether the other might miss someone with whom to share that same pure mindset.
Observing the two figures interacting inside the bookstore, it was possible to interpret that the answer was “yes”.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I really need to go. The time I have is a bit limited…" San shrugged, shaking the pair of books he had chosen. "How much will they cost?"
“You can take them.”
“Oh? Yunho, I don't…”
“Only for now. Take them home and check them carefully; if they're not what you're looking for, you can come back and exchange them.”
“Uhm… Like a library?”
“Basically, yeah. Watching so many disappointments in a row is breaking my heart, Sannie. I want to be able to help you in some other way.”
“Do you do this with all your customers, or is it just another excuse to see me again?” The vampire raised an eyebrow, suspicious, but his gaze remained gentle.
Instead of offering an answer, the tall man shrugged, but his face carried unspoken intentions as he walked away from the shelf. Cordial farewells stretched on for a while after that, as neither of them seemed willing to let the other have the final say as they walked to the door. It wasn't the first time they had interacted, and it wouldn't be the last, yet they showed anxiety and reluctance to interrupt the mutual company.
Wooyoung let out a hiss, baring his canines in a brief grimace: the closest thing to a mocking smile he could muster in feline form.
Unbelievable.
It was simply unbelievable that San was wasting his own daytime hours of rest for some little human attention (since a mere secondhand purchase shouldn't be accompanied by all those social flourishes).
Why were those visits so important to him? Was Yunho a potential prey? But why him specifically, and why postpone the feast instead of getting straight to the point?
His head was spinning with so many unanswered questions, and the afternoon sun kept reflecting off the shop window, blinding him for a moment. Perhaps it was too early to worry; he had to investigate this with a little more caution.
Deciding he had witnessed enough, Wooyoung stretched his small body before leaping between the branches and moving away again, transforming into a dark cloud and disappearing before his partner noticed him.
⋆༺𓆩☾𓆪༻⋆
San didn’t return to the crypt, and Wooyoung knew this because he spent the following hours motionless, eyes closed, waiting for the moment when his lover would stealthily lift the coffin lid and lie down beside him as if nothing had happened. Ironically, even this last scenario did not happen.
The blood connection vibrating in his veins alerted him when San arrived home: a profound presence once again entered his domain, like a bright spot appearing on a radar or two magnets finally turning to face the correct direction of attraction. San was nearby once more, a space he should always occupy, so Wooyoung waited, for it was a sign that everything would also return to normal.
Endless minutes dragged on as the sound of cars reverberated on the street above and insects rustled in the garden outside, but darkness was the only thing that kept him company.
Wooyoung waited, and waited, until his sensitive ears caught the church bell in the center of town; he counted each chime and realized that it was already dark, and that his proper time to wake up was approaching. There, he remained motionless as the last vestiges of hope drained from his chest. He still felt San, in the same place, inside the residence — so busy (or carefree) that he didn't even bother to make up for the lost resting time.
With a deep sigh (which served only to externalize his distrust), Wooyoung dragged his stiff limbs away from the wooden compartment and went to meet his beloved.
A thin, welcoming layer of silence filled the surroundings of home. Stealthily as usual, Wooyoung crossed the corridors with a goal in mind. He passed the marble statues, the tapestries and paintings interspersed among candlesticks on the walls, and climbed the winding staircase in search of the furthest room, from where he heard the whisper of pages being turned.
“Sannie?” He pushed open the door and advanced into the office without ceremony, the restless void beneath his sternum finally finding peace. “What are you doing?”
It was an almost comical scenario. San was sitting on the floor, isolated by all the books and files on the shelves that were currently empty. A cloud of fine, almost imperceptible dust danced in the air, enhanced by the warm light from the chandelier on the ceiling.
“Oh! You're already here, my dear? Good evening!” San turned around with a bound volume in his hands, closing it with a dry thud. “Theoretically, I'm cleaning and reorganizing my collection.”
“Theoretically?”
“A side effect is finding many old things that I didn't even remember storing here, so I end up getting distracted along the way.” He smiled, displaying his sharp canines.
“How long have you been here?” Wooyoung asked casually, approaching, “I didn't feel you leave the crypt.”
“Uhm… about half an hour ago? I woke up with a burst of inspiration today. That, and also I can't let the moths suspect that this territory has been neglected for the past few months.”
Wooyoung felt a slight tremor in his upper eyelid as he came across the lie uttered so casually. Not only did he see the man in front of him strolling down the street with an umbrella slung over his shoulder, but he also noticed that San was now dressed differently than he’d seen him earlier: instead of the modern combination of sweatshirt and jeans, he had opted for something more traditional, matching the color of his pants with the suspenders covering his white button-down shirt.
Something more ‘routine’ and familiar. Something he definitely hadn't been wearing that afternoon, and that he wouldn't have been able to replace within the short span of half an hour.
"Didn't you get a decent rest? Your eyes look a bit red, Sannie."
"Do you think so?" He tilted his head, curious, before turning back to the objects on the ground. "I'd say it's your imagination, but there's a good chance all this dust isn't doing me any good."
Another lie, whether out of naivety or malice. Wooyoung knew that the irritation around his eyes was related to prolonged sun exposure, even if minimal. Protecting himself with discreet clothing and an umbrella wouldn't help much if it happened so frequently that his body didn't have a chance to recover.
He wanted to tell San that reversing the schedule wouldn't be good for him in the long run, since sleep was a crucial part of their existence and could even affect their mind. However, Wooyoung couldn't let his partner know that he had access to such information. It was too early. Perhaps his "ignorance" would allow him to investigate further, before the other realized his intentions and had time to recalculate his own moves.
Slowly, he analyzed the arrangement of furniture and objects in the room, looking for clues. Thanks to San's sudden and outlandish idea, everything was out of place, and there was so much mess that it was impossible to tell if the two copies he had brought from the used bookstore had been added.
That could be exactly the purpose.
"Would you like me to help you? It might be faster to finish in pairs."
“You don't really have to. Let's just say it's something I need to do alone, for therapeutic reasons.” San laughed, accidentally bumping into a pile of books that tumbled on the armchair. “And from what I'm seeing, it's going to become a case of closing off the territory… There are covers crumbling here, can you believe it? There are volumes I have no idea where they came from…”
“I'll leave you alone, then.” Wooyoung shrugged, not refraining from throwing out a harmless hint, “Will I have your company again sometime while you're still awake?”
“Oh, I was just thinking of inviting you to join me in the search for dinner tonight, how about it?”
The suggestion was something they did regularly, but it was good. Being with him would always be good, no matter the context.
“Admirable to know that you’re faithful to routine, despite the unforeseen events.”
“In the absence of extraordinary experiences, beings like us need routine, my dear. Otherwise, after a certain age, the days blend together and cease to make sense. Eventually, reality also stops making sense.”
“How inspiring, who taught you that, Sannie?”
“A very old and wise vampire whom I love, and who has inspired me since the first time I laid eyes on him.”
“I'm flattered, but ‘very old’? In human years I would be younger than you.”
“Yes, ‘would be’, but we’re not human and you died first.”
“That's just a small detail.”
“A small detail that happened when I wasn't even born yet. You know you won't be twenty forever because death doesn't freeze time, right?”
“My ethereal face disagrees.”
“But I'm sure your almost two-hundred-year-old conscience is aligned with me.”
“Enough with the gratuitous ageism, I'll see you in the hallway in two hours.” Wooyoung grimaced, feigning slight offense, accepting the invitation.
It was natural for San to invite him hunting, not only because every shared moment was precious, but also because his lover always knew how the blood tie worked: how, after the transformation, Wooyoung felt his absence in a more concrete and literal way.
San knew how important it was for them to be close, even so, considering the set of events and the two consecutive lies, it took on a different tone. The invitation and the lighthearted teasing sounded almost… as if he were trying to change the subject. To distract him.
So, was the afternoon visit to the bookstore really such a confidential matter?
As he watched the silhouette of his partner on the floor, broad shoulders slightly tense with concentration and head bowed, Wooyoung started to wonder if the interaction he had witnessed that day could be more than just pleasantries between strangers.
At first glance, he couldn't identify what the young human had that was so special. This made the images repeat before his eyes, reanalyzing small details in the hope of finding a justification: the familiar way they talked, San leaning under his arm against the shelf, the awkward (but uncensored) one-sided flirting, the promise of return.
Would you replace me for a human after ninety-five years?
That's what Wooyoung wanted to ask, but it seemed too aggressive and hasty. Therefore, when San turned to face him with that same sickeningly gentle aura, all Wooyoung did was smile.