#but b4 that i wanna say that this is 3k words long so srry

[xsvervn]

𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖘 𝕽𝖊𝖉, 𝕿𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 {{𝕾𝖊𝖑𝖋-𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖆}}

ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱ, ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛꜱ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ʜᴀʀᴍ, ᴠᴏᴍɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄʜɪʟʟ 80 ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴɪɴɢ.ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀꜱ ꜱʜɪᴛ, ꜱᴏ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. uwu n all that.  

That was a memory that would stick with them for the rest of their lives, they decided. It burned from the inside out, and like a fire that took out entire cities, it tore through the twenty-year-old. 

Saeran Kim writhed on the cold, hard ground, nails clawing at their pale skin as they let out gasps from the pain that crippled them. 

This was not what they had expected death to be like. 

When they had jumped, the water below was supposed to take them. But somehow, by some force unknown, their eyes had opened and their back arched, agony once again taking over. How were they alive? 

They could only briefly ponder this as thoughts were dragged back by the throbbing in their skull; Every sound seemed so painfully amplified, every smell sharp in their nose to the point they were worried about bleeding, even their skin prickled in a way that felt far too sensitive. And though their clothes were sopping wet, even though it was late into autumn and the weather bordered on freezing, Saeran only felt a small chill despite the sensitivity that their skin claimed. 

What the fuck was happening? 

A smell that had lingered in their sinuses brought them all but crawling to their feet, however. Nails that they’d only just gotten done the week before digging in the cold dirt. They felt separate to themselves as they shifted through the brush beneath the bridge where they had made an attempt on their own life. Saeran wondered how they had lived through it, how they had not drowned. They remembered the way that water had choked them. Had burned their eyes, throat, and nose. They had felt scorched by the cold, but now they could only wrap their mind around the scent. Things seemed to become a haze from that point, thoughts running off into forgotten fragments as they grew closer and closer. The burn still present, they could feel it in their veins. In their chest. Their mouth ached and it shot through their skull in a way that would have left them doubling over once again had they been less dedicated to this search. 

They didn’t understand why they wanted to find it, but they couldn’t seem to think about anything else. 

It wasn’t long until the drenched twenty year old, hair dyed a bright mint tone, skin flushed white with cold, eyes shining brightly with a tone that suggested redness, and posture rigid, came upon a family. 

They couldn’t tell you what they looked like, how many members there had been, or even what they had done. Saeran just found the satisfaction in the tearing of skin beneath their teeth. The feeling had been…

Better than anything. It wasn’t easy to describe, it was better than pills or really any drug that they’d found. It was a high that lasted much longer. It soothed their aches, it warmed their flesh and by the time they’d finished with them, beneath bright stains of red, hues of pink flushed their skin. Saeran woke up much later. How much later they couldn’t tell you. Had it been moments? Hours? Days? Weeks? They were dirty, confused, and just generally uncertain as to where they even were. Memories flashed through their mind, but it had to just be a really fucked up dream -- the blood, the trail of bodies. That wasn’t real. 

And for a while, Saeran had let themselves believe that. 

They’d made their way home, looking haggard as dyed locks clumped together and dirt and mud clung to their black attire. Eyes skirted over Saeran-- maybe they were just trying a whole gutter grunge aesthetic? 

Upon arriving back in their apartment (their own keys and phone not being on their person leaving them to struggle to get the spare from the top of their door frame) They wondered if a fake rock would look strange beside their door, would it fool the other tenants? Though, Saeran didn’t doubt that the woman who lived across the hall would just invite herself in if the key were within her spindly reach. She always seemed to know when Saeran was low on food, though, and came bearing freshly cooked meals as if she’d prepared them specifically for the young adult across the hall. They couldn’t really find a complaint in having free food, but the prospect of having an older woman digging through their things and cleaning in their apartment as they’d found her doing not long after they’d moved in, made them a little anxious. Especially considering how messy they were. 

The moment the door opened they were greeted with the agitated meows of their black cat who didn’t hesitate to loop herself around their ankles. Saeran knew right away that she was hungry, the sounds she made were indication enough, but when her teeth sunk into their ankle -- a bite that was much rougher than they were used to-- they jerked away and quickly went to the food bowl to take care of their pet. 

It didn’t take them long to realize that they’d been gone for some time, the texts from Hoseok being excessive. The state their home was in after leaving a cat unattended. They had messaged their friend to come and care for the animal, a short apology following quickly behind in the message, but it’d never sent. Saeran guessed they were thankful for that. 

Another failed attempt to add to their ever-growing emo jot list. 

Their thumb trailed along a particularly thick scar on their inner wrist as this thought crossed. 

A sigh. 

As the weeks passed, Saeran began to fall back into their regular routine: they’d go to class first thing, they’d stop by Hoseok’s about halfway through their day to play games, and then they’d go home and try to work on their art commissions that had fallen behind while they were out doing… whatever. 

It was worrying, though. Their body told them time and time again that they were hungry, and they’d order a pizza, maybe a veggie burger, and time and time again they’d find themselves gripping a toilet bowl later that night, the contents of their stomach splashed against the porcelain. This had gone on for two weeks, and it was making them anxious. What had they really been doing in all that time? 

As they lay awake in bed at night (Their body far too jittery to sleep, and when they did manage to sleep it was so light that they never felt like they had actually slept) they would replay these dreams. The images always a dark red, always grotesque in nature, and always involving screams and death. And for some reason they always caused a sharp pang of hunger to lurch through their stomach. 

Ir wasn’t until some days later when they’d found their teeth buried into the throat of a boy from one of their morning classes at the community college after having attended a special lecture that night, that they realized the truth behind these ‘dreams’. 

They forced themselves away, but the damage had been done. As they rested on their knees on the cutting asphalt in the dark parking lot, the boy grew cold in their arms. Saeran, however, stayed frozen in their spot, the cover of a few parked cars hiding them and their crimes from any eyes that would have slid in their direction. 

What were they doing? 

What was wrong with them? 

They’d killed someone. 

The moment they felt circulation return to their body they clamoured up, allowing the body to rest between cars, and managed to get themselves into the nearby woods before collapsing to skinned knees and pressing fingers to the back of their throat, attempting to force the remnants of that boy-- Trey, his name had been Trey--- from their body. It was no use, though, as only blood darkened bile splashed against the dampened, dead leaves. 

They found themselves shaking hard, nails raking through their hair as the realization set in and tears blinded them. Those too seemed to be red.

They had no idea how long they had been in those woods, face streaked a dark red from tears that came forward in crimson streams, mixing with their heavy liner.  But as the sun rose above the trees, causing their skin to prickle and sting beneath rays that managed to skirt their skin, there was denying their truth. 

They were not the person that they had been before they had jumped off that bridge. 

Incidents like this continued to happen, though. They would fight urges, they would do everything within their power to keep this away from others. There was a constant nagging in their head, almost a voice, urging them to give in. To cave into the way that their body seemed to thrive off of stealing the life from those who lived while at only 20, they were a walking corpse Hoseok was avoided at all costs. Their classes were dropped. As the investigations ran cold, more bodies seemed to do the same in Saeran’s wake.  No matter how hard they fought it, they found themselves pressing bodies to walls in allies under the pretense of a hookup, to bleed them dry and leave them where they fell. Honestly, the young vampire found themselves getting off just fine from their meals alone. 

Maybe that was the draw, though. The euphoric feeling that washed over them, the moans that they would find themselves emitting as they fed, and the comedown that always, always felt way too good for them to quit it. 

The human nature in them screamed, it cried, it begged them to stop every time they did this. It wasn’t right. It was murder, and they committed it repeatedly and without hesitation time and time again. Guilt would haunt them in the late hours of the night and they would find themselves laid in an empty bath, trembling, tears coming and staining the tile the same colour that they loathed but also desperately wanted. They would use the games that they used to casually play as an escape, often forgetting where they were for days on end as nothing seemed to matter more than the quests at hand. And then the cycle repeated. 

The syndicate had become their home, however. 

It wasn't hard for them to go through with the ‘initiation’ as they had perfected swift, merciless killings very early on in their time as a vampire. What else could they have been, after all? Killing someone came naturally, and the instant gratification that came with it made it all worth the effort. 

Saeran had decided that they were a monster. 

It wasn’t a difficult distinction for them. When they were alone in a room with Hoseok one night, piled under blankets because their skin never seemed to warm, downing sodas and playing games together, Saeran had become far to aware of the pulse that thrummed where their thighs touched. 

Their eyes would scan his profile and they would find themselves increasingly interested in the artery that pulsed just beneath the skin on his throat, one that they had grown so accustomed to sinking sharpened fangs into. It had taken that moment alone for them to realize that they were not anything more than that. A monster who took life from others because they could never, truly, be alive again. 

-

The day that Saeran found out that they had been discovered was long. 

Likely one of the longest in days that seemed to span years in their generally sleepless exitance. They had reread the texts, exhaustion setting in as another week of downing coconut water to curb the desires the kill that they were so rife with. At least ten kills was the understatement of the century. Saeran had stopped counting. At one point they had even gone after a cat because humans were too difficult to come by. 

They had read on some edgy tumblr blog for teens wanting to imitate vampires that there were a few drinks one could try that emulated the way that blood would curve along ones tongue as it filled their mouth. Chia seeds had been a mistake. Orange juice wasn’t close at all. The only thing that seemed to trick their senses really did seem to be this stupid water. they hadn’t even liked coconuts when they were alive. But, fully dressed they sat in their bath, sipping a mix of that and vodka out of a bottle, water filling the bath as they laid back, taking in the reality that they were living. 

Saeran had never let themselves think about what they had done after the first time. They had never taken into account that they were human people after that. They couldn’t bring themselves to do it. At 21 they had killed enough people to feel entirely numb to the concept. Though they longed for it themselves, they could never seem to find it, but they brought it to others on a nearly nightly basis. 

Then there were the times with him where it was an aphrodisiac of shorts. The first time they’d slept together had been prompted by the murder of an innocent person in the man's apartment, the blood hadn’t been a meal, but wasted as the two tumbled to the floor, blood having covered Saeran’s hands after they’d taken the persons life. They had slept together that night on that floor. 

Saeran couldn’t seem to get that out of their head. Was that really what they were? Was that really them? 

Was this name that was still freshly branded into their chest by a man who they had trusted really someone they had laid with so many times? 

It all seemed so far away from them, so unreal. Like they had just read it in a book and the blurred lines of imagination only allowed fragmented pictures to appear in their mind, to dance behind their lids as texts from Titan were ignored. Their cellphone had tumbled to the floor as their fingers went lax, the tub filling slowly around their petite form. He had been the one to tell them what had been found. He had been the one to let them know that their name had been brought up. That their crimes and the admissions that they had blurted to Hoseok in a fit of text messaged verbal vomit were all known. That they weren’t safe in their own apartment. 

As they became increasingly drowsy from a mixture of intoxication, starvation, and the warmth of their bath, the water finally rose over their features, submerging the vampire as they dozed. 

There were a few moments of silence in the room, save for the constant pinging of the device that had taken residence on the floor and the faucet, before they took a breath. 

In their stupor, they had not realized that the water had risen so high, so when they returned to their general state of being they found themselves taking in water, they could feel it filling lungs that had very little purpose in the chest of a preternatural being who only breathed out of habit. It felt as though they were being burned, much like the night that they had turned. 

They shot up from their position, coughing heavily as they leaned over the side of the tub, water expelling passed pouty lips as they felt themselves still somehow drowning within their own body. 

“Fuck,” Saeran mumbled, throat raw and voice like gravel when they did finally catch their breath. These realities had left them feeling sick to their stomach, and the recent incident with nearly drowning -- would that have killed them? They doubted it-- just frustrated them. They would need to leave, they knew. 

They couldn’t just wait here for the heroes to find them. 

They couldn’t run the risk of killing Salem out of hunger. 

-

Salem had been cradled in their arms, fingers stroking over her ears affectionately as they made the choice to give her to Hoseok. 

They had phrased it as cat sitting because somehow it even fooled Saeran for a moment into thinking that they would be able to come back to all of this-- to nights in next to their coconut headed best friend, veggie burgers and pizza, cuddling with their cat in their bed and having a single nights sleep that didn’t span days inside of a box that Maxxie of all people had given them. A despite their edgy appearance, Saeran didn’t enjoy sleeping in a casket. They didn’t enjoy the solitary nights. Salem couldn't sleep with them so they would need to make up for that by laying in bed with her after waking up. They missed normal things. They missed being alive. But Saeran Kim had never been one to think things through. They never considered anything. 

Leaving his cat to Hoseok’s had been hard. They wanted to cry. They wanted to curl against their friend's chest and just let it out, but instead, they put on a brave face. 

Saeran didn’t have a family. They didn’t have friends. They had Hoseok and Salem. And no matter what they chose in this instance they had to leave that. 

Did they turn themselves in and hope that the league was merciful? That they were different than the Doves? Could they even trust that? Or did they hide in HQ and hope that they were safe? 

Saeran admitted their guilt, god did they drown in it,  but did it mean that they deserved to be locked away from everyone and everything? 

They were dangerous. 

They were unpredictable. 

And despite it all, Saeran didn’t want to go. 

They didn’t want to be held accountable, they didn’t want to pay for crimes that were committed in a fit of vampire desperation. They just wanted to sleep. 

There wasn’t much that genuinely frightened someone who couldn’t die. At that point, death sounded so welcoming. But not being in control of the situation and not knowing? that was scary. That was terrifying.