Archive of Our Own

The first time Jiwoong sees Matthew, it's snowing in the middle of March. All the trees are covered in a thin layer of pure white, and Jiwoong looks behind himself to see the trail his shoes leave on the concrete path. Matthew looks roughly Jiwoong's age when he was turned, and is holding a blood-red umbrella that casts a scarlet shadow on the white ground. 

Selling blood is a fairly common practice among students. 

It's easy money since vampires are eager buyers and they never have enough blood. Just like for many others like him, hunger is a baseline feeling for Jiwoong. It's not the most comfortable thing, but it's better to be a little hungry than to continuously starve. 

Ideally, he'd always have food saved up, but that requires too much planning and hindsight that Jiwoong lacks. So very often he has to rely on local ads where people desperate for money leave their contact info. It's not the safest way to get blood, but it's far from the riskiest. 

"I think you're waiting for me," Jiwoong says, walking up to Matthew, not paying much attention to the other people he passes by.

"Jiwoong?"

He nods. 

"Ah, you probably know that from the notice, but my name is Matthew. Nice to meet you," he says and smiles. It's the kind of smile that's so radiant it could melt all the surrounding snow.

Jiwoong prefers not to drink blood directly from people. It's too dangerous since he doesn't trust himself fully to stop when he's supposed to, and he doesn't like the intimacy. It requires too much closeness with someone he might never see again, and his lonely heart can't handle that. 

He likes affection and because of that, he tries not to get too close to people who might not want it from him. Matthew seems like a nice guy. As they talk the entire way to the blood donation center, Jiwoong starts to wonder what it would be like to have him as a friend. 

Would they bicker all the time? Would they hug and hold hands? Would they watch dumb movies or go to the gym together? 

Each of the scenarios flashes before his eyes as the nurse puts a needle in Matthew's arm, the scarlet liquid quickly traveling through the tube. 

Blood donation centers help vampires in a very simple way. You come, you sign a couple of forms, the human that came with you also signs some consent forms, and then the nurse draws their blood. That's how you get three weeks' worth of food. Of course, payment usually follows, but that's typical in capitalism, Jiwoong figures. 

"What's your type?" Jiwoong asks. It was probably specified in the advert Matthew put out, but right now all Jiwoong can think of is how hungry he is.

"Kind, mature, it'd be nice if we had the same hobbies… I don't care about anything else, to be honest," Matthew answers, and it takes Jiwoong a few seconds to understand what he means. 

"Of blood," Jiwoong specifies. 

"Oh, A maybe?" he says and laughs it off immediately. "Sorry, kinda forgot you were all about… those kinda things."

Shaking his head, Jiwoong says, "It's fine. I also don't really have an ideal type either. Maybe someone cute and sincere, now that I think about it."

"But like… sincere as in brutally honest or open to talking about their feelings. Because there is a difference!"

"There's definitely a difference!" Jiwoong imitates Matthew's tone of voice and in effect makes him laugh. "But I think I meant that I like people to tell me what they think, I like this kind of honesty." 

Laughing, Matthew says, "Well then, I think you're really handsome, Jiwoong. Like, so handsome I wouldn't admit it aloud under any other circumstances," he adds, looking away, purposely staring at the nearest wall. The buzzing lights fill the silence between them. It reminds Jiwoong of the time he used to model—uncomfortable outfits, heavy makeup, and confidence. 

Way back then, Jiwoong was used to people complimenting him. It came naturally to him. Of course, people found him attractive—he worked hard for it, and they were stating the obvious. But now? Well, now he rarely interacts with people on a daily basis. He's gotten rusty, and he only reacts to compliments with quiet embarrassment. 

"Thank you. And well, you're the kind of cute I meant earlier."

In response, Matthew just laughs, but there isn't a hint of malice in his voice, just pure joy. 

***

After a snowy March, comes a cold April. This time, Matthew isn't holding an umbrella, but he's wearing a heavy, winter coat. And he isn't the only one suffering from the cold, judging by the passersby. 

Jiwoong's jean jacket looks comically out of place, but Matthew spares him only a chuckle this time. He seems under the weather like he came here only out of obligation and not because he wanted to see Jiwoong again. 

It stings at first, but Jiwoong had been on this Earth for long enough to not take other people's feelings so personally. Even if he was excited to meet Matthew again, and he feels disappointed by his reaction, it's not Matthew's fault for feeling down in his presence. 

They take a slow walk to the blood donation center, chatting about the weather and other things people talk about when they feel awkward. After they're done, Jiwoong drags Matthew to one of the trendy cafes, so that he can buy him a small pick-me-up. He chooses a cup of coffee and tiramisu while Jiwoong just opts out for an iced americano. 

It all feels strangely date-like even if it wasn't his intention.

"Why do you need money?" Jiwoong asks at some point, giving into his curiosity that has been eating him up for the last three weeks. "It's not like… you have any debt, do you?"

Matthew shakes his head, smiling. "It's a bit complicated."

"Take your time."

"You really want to hear this story?" 

"I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

Matthew looks at the tiled floor, probably trying to form a coherent sentence in his head. Jiwoong has noticed that he does it often when he has to tell a story. "I've been friends with Hanbin since I got to Korea," Matthew begins, turning his head in Jiwoong's direction. "He's been going out with a violinist for a couple of months, but this violinist, Hao, doesn't really have the money to take lessons anymore? He's… I think he's financially helping his family, not sure. And Hanbin has been working overtime to pay for his violin lessons and I just thought that… I could help him, you know?"

"Hao?"

"No, Hanbin. I'm doing this for Hanbin."

"So, let me get this straight—"

"They're definitely not straight."

Jiwoong fake-laughs. "Ha ha, very funny—so you're selling your own blood to help your friend's boyfriend?"

"I'm helping Hanbin."

"I don't—"

"Have you ever loved someone so much and for so long that you would do anything for them? Even if that meant you would never be with them? I want Hanbin to be happy, and Hao makes him happier than anyone else."

The words than me hang in the air and Jiwoong can almost hear them coming from Matthew's mouth. He visibly fights to say them, but ultimately swallows them down.

"That's why I'm doing this," Matthew finishes after a few seconds of pause. 

Seems like Matthew might be more honest with strangers than he is with his… friends. Hanbin seems like he's more than that to Matthew, but Jiwoong refuses to put labels on their relationship. Ultimately, it's not his homo-erotic, codependent friendship. He's had his fair share of those already, thank you very much. 

"I don't feel comfortable buying blood from you anymore," Jiwoong says, and the words come out of his mouth unexpectedly. It's his heart speaking, not his rational brain. "And I know that if it's not me, it's someone else… It's not like there's a shortage of buyers. But Matthew?" He grabs Matthew's shoulder, forcing him to look at him as he speaks. 

A gasp escapes Matthew's lips before he says, "Yes?"

"Don't bleed yourself out for others' sake."

***

Seemingly taking his advice to heart, Matthew doesn't contact him anymore. In some way, Jiwoong feels grateful for this turn of action. The age gap between him and Matthew isn't as big as some might assume—he was turned around Matthew's age, less than four years ago. He's barely not a fledgling, and normally he'd still need to be supervised by an older clan member. But since he's not in any of the clans and his master has abandoned him, he's on his own. And as Taylor Swift would add kid, you've always been.

All this means that they are only a few years apart in age. Jiwoong still vividly remembers what it felt like to be twenty, to enter a new decade of his life with hope and the feeling of superiority. He was an adult, wasn't he? No longer a stupid teen, surely, he was prepared to make adult decisions now, right? 

Wrong. So fucking wrong. He couldn't be more wrong, in fact. 

Jiwoong's pulse stopped when he was twenty. And so he knows that this is the worst age to be, he knows that Matthew is just waiting to make a decision, maybe not as stupid as the one he made but stupid nonetheless. It's inevitable at this age when you're consumed by your supposed maturity, only to grow up and realize that you're still an overgrown child who can now legally drive and drink. Hopefully not at the same time, though. 

That's why he worries about him even if they'll never go to the blood donation center together again—someone else will gladly do it with Matthew. Blood is precious and if someone's willing to sell it, they'll never have to look hard for potential buyers. Jiwoong would know, he used to do the same thing when he needed cash as a teen. To him, it's nothing shameful, it's just a transaction like any other, even if in his case it ended the way it did. 

Matthew doesn't seem like the type that would ask to be turned. Maybe it's because he seems so full of life, Jiwoong can't imagine him without a beating heart. When he looks at Matthew, Jiwoong misses that feeling of happiness bursting at the seams of his soul, of genuinely walking around with a smile on his face, dancing to his playlist in the kitchen, and laughing till his face hurts. Looking at Matthew is almost like experiencing these things by proxy. He's so alive, so in love with life itself. 

Matthew's giving him a taste and reaching out, encouraging Jiwoong to try again, to not give up on everything. 

He just might. 

This time they meet by accident. Well, as much as you can meet someone by accident in a nightclub known to be a vampire lair. Matthew is chatting with a guy outside, and while he's smiling, Jiwoong can sense that he's tense, his hand tightly gripping his glass. When he notices Jiwoong his eyes light up and he waves at him to get closer. Jiwoong obliges, realizing the guy Matthew is talking to is another vampire. Admittedly, it's not a big deal, but he still wants to tell Matthew to be cautious and not let his guard down. You can never be sure with the undead, even if they swear up and down that they would never feed off of you, they can never be sure. 

It's happened once, but Jiwoong has been hungry enough that he felt his morals fade in the background and the insatiable hunger stun him. It's overpowering—everything besides the thrill of the kill stops mattering. 

That's why he'd prefer for Matthew to stop coming here. It's not that he thinks Matthew is weak, more like, he knows how impossible it is to control the hunger for a vampire. 

"Where are your friends?" Jiwoong asks, putting his arm on the wall.

Matthew shrugs. "They're probably in another club right now," he says and before Jiwoong comments, he adds, "I was looking for you. Kinda." 

"You have my number."

"You said you were uncomfortable, and… I thought this would be better." 

"I was uncomfortable with buying from you. Not with your presence as a whole." 

"Are you pouting?"

"I'm pouting because you thought I didn't want to see you anymore! Who wouldn't be pouting?" 

It's at this point that the vampire Matthew was talking to gives up and leaves without another word. Jiwoong knows excluding people from conversation works, but he is impressed by how quickly he could see the results this time.

"Oh thank God," Matthew mutters before reaching up to pat Jiwoong's head. "You did well playing… my scary boyfriend, I guess." 

Jiwoong gladly accepts any form of affection. "I meant it, though. Just because I don't want your blood doesn't mean we can't… hang out?"

"I thought that was all you needed me for, you never really said anything to make me think otherwise…"

The fact that he has a point stings. Jiwoong realizes that he could've easily never met Matthew again because he didn't make his intentions clear. 

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh indeed," Matthew giggles. 

"So I've been sulking for nothing? For literally no reason?" 

Matthew laughs harder at Jiwoong's cute tone. "I like you, hyung, but you're a bit of a dummy sometimes."

***

The rest of the evening is a blur of electronic music, strangely named drinks, and dancing. Alcohol doesn't really work on the undead, so Jiwoong mostly drinks it to participate in social events and sometimes for the aesthetic . Frankly, he does a lot of this for the aesthetic and he isn't ashamed of it. 

Maybe except for smoking. 

The older he gets, the more he realizes that it's not a cool thing to do but rather something maladaptive and lame. But since Matthew has already called him a dummy, Jiwoong will accept the title of a loser if Matthew deems it fit. 

As they sit in front of the club, the cold night wind trying its best to put out Jiwoong's cigarette, Matthew just rants to him about everything and nothing in particular. It's peaceful. Jiwoong could get used to nights like this one. Not because he enjoys partying in this particular club, or is a big fan of cranberry vodkas, but because Matthew makes him feel lighter than he has in a while. 

"Do all vampires have abs like you?" Matthew asks, his tongue clearly not able to keep up with the thoughts in his head. His accent comes out in full force, and Jiwoong has to concentrate to understand certain words. It's not that Matthew's Korean is bad, more like, it's already hard sometimes to understand drunk people when they're speaking their native tongue. 

Jiwoong contemplates how he should answer him. "Not that I know of?"

"But how do you... ugh, count the macros? Do you eat protein? How do you... did you have abs before you died?" The words are fuzzy and certain syllables lack their usual sharpness, but somehow Jiwoong keeps up with Matthew's train of thought. 

"I'm not dead."

"Then... before someone turned you?" 

For a few seconds, Jiwoong is transported back all those years, and he can almost feel what it was like to have a beating heart. It's something he never noticed as a human until he was deprived of it. When you're alive, there's never really truly quiet, you can't escape the sound of your heart, of the blood traveling through your veins. You have the constant reminder that some things are outside of your control. 

Being undead means that you chose silence. And also that you so desperately craved control, you sacrificed everything to obtain it. 

"I did," he answers, feeling the warm wind on his face. "I don't think my body has changed much since then."

Matthew nods, hesitating before he speaks again. It's a little twitch of his lips, but Jiwoong still notices it. "Have you turned anyone?" 

"No. I wouldn't wish this upon anyone else."

"Is it... something horrible? Does the perspective of outliving everyone bring you down?" 

"It's—it's really fucking boring, you know? So incredibly boring sometimes," Jiwoong laughs. He never expected he would tell someone about this. It's funny how he finds it easier, to be honest with people he doesn't know very well, who don't have any expectations of him. That might be his biggest flaw—very often he gets tangled up in the thick web of people's perceptions of him and lets them linger in his mind like cobwebs in an old house. He can't shake them off, no matter how hard he tries.

"I don't want to be rude, hyung, but..."

"But?"

"Only a very boring person would be bored by... by the perspective of living forever." 

The brutal honesty of Matthew's comment hits Jiwoong like a fucking train, and all he can do is laugh. Matthew looks at him awkwardly, and that only makes him cackle harder.

"Sorry," Matthew says, staring at the ground. As he calms down, Jiwoong studies Matthew's profile for a couple of seconds, his eyes following the slope of Matthew's nose and the curve of his lips. He stops himself before his eyes reach Matthew's neck.

"You're not wrong. You'd think that only very eccentric people would want to become immoral, but… most of us are just so paralyzed by the fear of death that we choose this. And I think that that's really boring. Really, really boring."

Paralyzed by fear is an understatement. That bone-deep terror was eating Jiwoong alive. He couldn't let his youth go, so he decided that being forever stuck between life and death was the way to go. The only thing he can do now is to laugh at his past desperation. He doomed himself in a way, and he'll never be able to reverse it. 

"I mean, I think I understand why someone would want to live forever, or at least have the possibility to, but at the same time…"

"That's not what life is about, right?" Jiwoong asks, knowing what Matthew's getting at.

"Well, yeah… yeah? Life is supposed to end someday and that's why we have fun and work for a better future, why we get tattoos, and why we go to concerts and sing our lungs out in the car? Because everything has an end and some endings are more graceful than others, but we want to remember them all. We want to leave a trail for someone else to find it, and we hope it'll make them understand what it felt like to be us—even for a little while. We want someone to understand," Matthew says. It's a pure stream of consciousness, but Jiwoong understands what he means, he agrees with him for the most part too. 

"And you understand why someone would want to run from it, right?"

"Obviously. It's kinda terrifying when you think about it for a little while. It weighs you down," Matthew answers, his hand looking for Jiwoong's before their fingers intertwine.

"Well, yeah, I also really didn't want to get chronic acid reflux and back pain—perks of being in your twenties for… forever," Jiwoong laughs to break the tension. 

"You don't get acid reflux? Lucky," Matthew says. 

"Not chronic! But I think I've ever gotten it once? The undead don't get that, fortunately."

"Not ever from like… bad blood?" 

"We're gonna have bad blood if you don't stop talking about acid reflux."

" You started it! I just decided to go for it, you know, get in on the joke. I blame it on FOMO ," Matthew says the last sentence in English and somehow Jiwoong finds it incredibly endearing. There's a note of sincerity in Matthew's voice when he speaks English or when he can't get the accent of a Korean word exactly right—it's like his personality shines through the pronunciation of a word somehow. 

Jiwoong adores it. Not because he likes English as a language, but because it's Matthew's native tongue, and Jiwoong adores anything that concerns Matthew. He could be speaking Klingon for all he knows and he would still fawn over it. 

He can't really explain it himself either, but something about Matthew pulls him in and makes him pay attention to him and only him. Matthew's captivating, his presence demands attention and Jiwoong is willing to comply no matter what. He's just that charmed. 

"What are you thinking about?" Matthew asks, putting his head on Jiwoong's shoulder. 

About you.

"How I'm gonna get you home."

"I'm not that wasted."

"But I still don't want you to go home alone, okay?" Jiwoong acknowledges aloud in a firm tone of voice. He knows he's being embarrassing, one could even call it cringe , but he remembers what it felt like to be twenty, tipsy, and heartbroken. And for him, it resulted in the stupidest decision in his entire life. 

So yeah, he feels that being overprotective is justified in his case. 

"Okay," Matthew says, not really looking at Jiwoong. 

"Really?"

"What else do you want me to say? Yes, daddy? You're demanding, jeez." 

Jiwoong feels conflicted over internally cooing over Matthew's accent and cringing at what he said. In the end, he decides to simply not acknowledge it. "Can I call you a cab?" 

Nodding, Matthew squeezes his hand tighter. 

***

It's a beautiful May evening when Jiwoong picks Matthew up from the metro station to go marathon a TV drama in Jiwoong's apartment. It's as good of an excuse as any other. The pink cherry blossom petals are covering the pavement and the humidity in the air is making Jiwoong's styled hair frizzy. 

He's a bit annoyed by that because it took him longer than usual to style it and now there isn't a difference. It's a law of nature, when you put effort into styling your hair, it always comes out differently than you anticipated. 

The drama is fine. Jiwoong is at most half-paying attention to it. He chats with Matthew, jokes around, and tries his best not to zone out and miss something important. At the end of the third episode or so, Jiwoong ends up sitting on the sofa facing Matthew. He isn't sure how it happened and when he stopped looking at the TV, but it doesn't really matter since the new episode hasn't yet started. 

But before the outplay does all the work for him, Matthew picks up the remote control and pauses the drama. He laughs and opens his legs in what Jiwoong can only call an inviting gesture. In response, Jiwoong maneuvers himself onto his knees and crawls towards him, his legs sinking into the mattress with each move. 

With lit-up eyes, Matthew asks "Have you ever fed off of anyone?"

"I don't want to hurt anybody," Jiwoong answers and then lets the silence fill the space between them. "Only blood bags," he adds.

"I don't think you can hurt anyone."

"You don't know that."

Matthew moves his fingers when he says, "Go on, bite me then."

One moment Jiwoong's studying Matthew's veins, and the other his lips are on Matthew's neck, and through the thin skin, Jiwoong can feel his pulse. He knows he should hesitate before biting down, he should feel remorseful and sorry for what he's about to do. He isn't. Matthew's words gave him freedom. 

He wants this. He trusts Jiwoong. He's willing to put his life on the line to prove a point. 

And Jiwoong wants him to be right. 

His teeth pierce through the skin with ease and soon, his mouth fills with warm blood. Matthew clings to him, his fingers digging into Jiwoong's shoulder as his back arches. Jiwoong's senses are going overboard with so many stimuli—the taste of Matthew's blood isn't enough for him not to pay attention to how close they are. 

Matthew's so warm and his hair is so soft, and his heart is beating so fast that it takes Jiwoong only a couple of seconds to get a hold of himself and retract his teeth. Blood drips onto Matthew's shirt and he instinctively reaches up to touch the wound on his neck, his fingers quickly turning red. 

"I was right," he chuckles.

"If you weren't you'd be dead."

"You're not as cruel as you think, hyung. You would rather starve than let someone bleed out for you."

A deeply seated urge tells Jiwoong to argue with Matthew—prove to him that he can be this cruel, that he could hurt someone if he wanted. He knows he wouldn't be able to do anything to Matthew. Especially him. It's as if he wanted to kill the sun. 

"I'm right, hyung. I'm just right. And there's nothing wrong with not being cruel."

His words trigger an avalanche in Jiwoong's mind, one thought following another until white static fills his head. The night was cold and he managed to lure someone into a narrow alleyway. They weren't scared—they wanted this, they asked Jiwoong to turn them and he agreed as long as he could feed off of them. 

He didn't even bite them. He couldn't bring himself to do that. 

Apologies spilled from his lips like an uncontrolled stream. 

"The person who turned me thought differently," he says, stopping the train of thought before it consumes him. Over the past several years, he experienced many shitty things that could flash before his eyes in a situation like this. He doesn't want to remember any of them right now. 

"I'm sorry about that."

"No need—I've had time to heal from that." 

Bringing his bloody hand to Jiwoong's cheek, Matthew's metal bracelet slides down his wrist and hits Jiwoong's jaw. Even the metal feels warm. The smell of blood hits Jiwoong's nose, but he's not preoccupied with hunger. All he can think about when he smells Matthew's blood is the sun, the warm earth in a field during a summer day, and the heated-up sand in the desert. 

"I thought you'd lick me."

"I'm not an animal," Jiwoong deadpans. 

"But you bite."

Jiwoong laughs with his eyes closed, his forehead resting on Matthew's shoulder. "I should go get you a bandage," Jiwoong says before Matthew drags him by his collar to kiss him. His blood still stains Jiwoong's tongue. 

Not minding that, Matthew kisses him with desperation Jiwoong didn't expect from him. Matthew seemed on top of everything, telling Jiwoong what to do and joking along with him, but it still must've been a lot for him. It takes a lot of self-control to override natural instincts, to just let the adrenaline run through your veins as you essentially bleed out. And this desperation in their kiss is the result of that pretend-calm of his from before. 

His body is lithe under Jiwoong's hands, and it's apparent that he's still in a fight or flight mode. Jiwoong kisses the corner of Matthew's mouth before they draw apart and it makes Matthew smile so brightly, he has to kiss him in the same place again. 

There's something so honest about this smile, so visceral and undeniably Matthew that it makes Jiwoong's heart light on fire and melt the ice that has gathered around it over the years. His chest hasn't felt so light in a long time.

"You're staring at me," Matthew says with a happy lilt in his voice. 

Kissing his cheek, Jiwoong just laughs.

***

Jiwoong studies the scab on Matthew's neck that he usually hides under a bandage as they sit in a cozy cafe early in the morning before Matthew's classes. From what Matthew told him, it doesn't bleed at all and will completely heal soon. A pang of guilt still hits Jiwoong full force each time he looks at it. 

The lack of hunger dimmed the shame for a couple of days, but now it's like a void in his chest, slowly sucking the life out of him. He hasn't been eating regularly enough for his body to properly produce venom, much less for his saliva to have healing properties. Jiwoong's angry at his own body for betraying him like that, even if in reality he's the one who's at fault. 

His body only wants him to eat, it doesn't understand why it's so hard for him. 

"If you're hungry, just say it." Matthew swirls the coffee in his cup with each syllable. 

"I'm feeling guilty, not hungry."

"You always feel guilty when you're hungry," Matthew notices and Jiwoong feels fucking transparent like a plastic bag for a second. It must be written all over his face because Matthew laughs. 

"I mean—"

"If you want to eat, I can feed you. But I need to go to class first. If you can wait till evening, then I'll show you something," Matthew sing-songs and it makes Jiwoong more confused than excited. 

The whole day he anxiously ponders the meaning of Matthew's words. Even if he volunteered to feed him again, Jiwoong isn't sure if he could win with his guilt. It's not the act of feeding itself, it's the fact that he has to hurt Matthew in the process and that he can't do anything to help him heal. 

When he visits Matthew after class, the first thing he sees is a blood bag laying on the small table in his room. Jiwoong stares at it and then at Matthew, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

"You said you weren't comfortable buying it from me, sooooo… this is a gift?"

"A gift?"

"Yeah, some people buy flowers or cook a nice dinner if they like someone. I'm giving you my blood… I can't watch you go hungry, it makes me so sad," Matthew admits, staring at Jiwoong with the most pitiful expression Jiwoong has ever seen on his face. 

"Please, invite me in, invite me in and I'll kiss you."

"Oh fuck, I forgot that's how this works."

"Just invite me in!" Jiwoong laughs. 

"Please, come in," Matthew says, and seconds later Jiwoong's hands cup his jaw as their lips meet. 

They share a quiet dinner, Jiwoong drinking Matthew's blood from a wine glass, and Matthew eating some leftovers he heated up in the microwave. There isn't much left to be said about this—Jiwoong was stubborn and hungry beyond rational thought and Matthew had to take matters into his own hands. And it's embarrassing and Jiwoong feels like a dummy again, and he just doesn't want to talk about it like an adult, okay? Everyone has their lapses in judgment and his extreme and illogical method of "protecting" Matthew has been one of them. He'll admit that. 

And he'll make it up to him. 

"I'm sorry," Jiwoong says, his eyes stuck on Matthew's lips and not willing to move as though they were stuck there. "I'll need to work on eating more regularly 

"The nurse at the blood donation center couldn't believe me," he says as he pours himself a glass of water from the fridge. His apartment is tiny enough that they can normally talk while technically being in two different rooms. "He said that you must be really weird."

"I hope you defended me," Jiwoong deadpans. 

"I debated doing that, that's for sure," he says with a straight face, and then, only a few seconds later, he erupts into laughter. 

This is what ultimately breaks Jiwoong, what makes him realize that if he fucks this up, he'll regret it for the rest of his life. Matthew's whole presence is comforting. He doesn't feel like home, but one day he might. And it's this potential that gives Jiwoong hope that he might feel like home for someone else too.

It takes three steps and he pulls Matthew onto his bed, Jiwoong's knees sinking into the soft mattress right next to Matthew's body. He stares at him for a heartbeat or two, admiring the shape of his collarbones and the two scars on his neck, only to take off his shirt. 

It's as though a spark ignited behind Matthew's eyes.

He has the skill to unravel Jiwoong with one glance. It takes a look and Jiwoong feels like he's laying bare before him, his no longer beating heart held in his hands as though an offering or a strange gift of some kind. 

One look and Jiwoong is willing to give him everything he could ever ask for. 

Kissing Matthew's stomach, Jiwoong wonders what has he done to deserve this moment. What has he achieved in life to be able to kiss Matthew's pale skin in broad daylight? The summer sun is coming through the window and the sunset will probably come in half an hour or less. But for now, it's still bright outside and they get to enjoy the light. 

"You'll need to take off your pants," Jiwoong says against Matthew's hip bone. 

"What if I won't?"

"Well, that limits your options by… quite a lot."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."

It's these little playful jabs too that unravel Jiwoong, and undo all of the knots in the material his soul is made of so that it can be weaved anew. 

He pulls up to kiss Matthew's sun-kissed face. Supporting himself on his hands, he aligns their hips, puts one knee between Matthew's legs, and says, "I think I did."

"No, no, if we are doing it… this way… then at least put in the work," Matthew says, trying to put his thoughts together as he maneuvers his legs and puts them over Jiwoong's waist. It's honestly hilarious to Jiwoong that they ended up in the missionary position with their clothes still mostly on. 

"Then take off your pants."

"Make me."

Jiwoong laughs with his eyes closed as he rolls his hips. "It'll feel better if you take off your pants."

"Convince me," Matthew says, his accent slipping with another roll of Jiwoong's hips.

Sure, fine, no problem. That's what Jiwoong's here for, right? To convince the cutest guy he knows that it'd feel better if he took off his fucking jeans and let Jiwoong fuck him. It's his favorite activity, in fact. His life purpose is spreading the agenda of not having sex while denim covers your ass. 

Ah, fuck it. 

He kisses Matthew's neck, their erections pressed together through the thick material. And while it's weird at first, everything also feels… better. The lightest of touches seem so intense, everything gets louder and colors get sharper. 

It's like he's doing something forbidden, like he knows someone might come into the room soon and see them. It's not innocent, there's nothing pure in the way Matthew grids on his dick while fully clothed, but there's something that reminds Jiwoong of what it felt like to be innocent. What it felt like to fantasize about boys without knowing how to have sex. 

As a teen, and then in his early twenties, he was always a little timid about all of this. Unsure what to do and how to act. Embarrassed that he'd do something wrong. Thankfully, it went away with age. 

Matthew burrows his face in the crook of Jiwoong's neck, one of his hands gripping the hair on the back of Jiwoong's head. Jiwoong knows he's strong enough to make it hurt, but Matthew is as cute as he is thoughtful, so he doesn't pull really hard. Just enough to make Jiwoong gasp.

"I… this has convinced me," Matthew says, once again his accent not catching up with his tongue. 

It's adorable and makes Jiwoong's chest feel light. Without a word, he reaches to unbutton Matthew's jeans and then maneuvers himself so that he's able to pull off the next trick up his sleeve. Not that he has any sleeves to hide said tricks, he took off his shirt some time ago. 

"What are you doing?" Matthew asks before he catches up, but by that time Jiwoong's already pulling down Matthew's zipper with his teeth. "Fuck." 

Immediately Matthew's hands find their way to Jiwoong's hair. He loves everything about this—the closeness, the anticipation, the heat of Matthew's skin, the way he arches his back, and the fact that he stares Jiwoong straight in the eye the whole time he pulls down his pants and underwear. 

Jiwoong takes Matthew's cock into his mouth and swallows around it as he holds it in his hand. With his hands in Jiwoong's hair, Matthew arches his back more, his eyes closed shut in pleasure. He simply looks beautiful. There's no need for ten-dollar words, for complicated similes and metaphors—this is the only word running through Jiwoong's mind, the only coherent thought. The rest is filled with pure want. 

Holding Matthew down by his hip bone, Jiwoong pins him down to the bed and stops him from thrusting into his mouth. Matthew puts his other hand over his lips as though signaling that if it weren't for the thin walls, he'd let himself be louder. To Jiwoong, this is a promise. One day he'll fuck him so good Matthew won't care how loud he is. 

Gripping Jiwoong's hair, Matthew pushes his face down when he comes, forcing Jiwoong to swallow. Obediently, he does.

"Come here," Matthew says, his voice low. "Hyung, come here, kiss me." 

There's no way Jiwoong wouldn't follow his directions. Not now. Not when the sun has almost set and they're alone in the unlit room, their shadows blending together into the darkness. He walks on all fours towards Matthew and kisses him. Their sweat mixes together and their quiet moans echo between the walls. 

It's gentle, delicate touches and not even a promise of roughness. They're laying on their sides, kissing, their hands wandering. Matthew reaches down and feels Jiwoong up through the material of his pants. He helps Jiwoong pull them down in between kisses and whispered sweet nothings. It makes Jiwoong melt. He puts his face in the crook of Matthew's neck as he jerks him off. 

"Bite me if you want," Matthew says right into Jiwoong's ear. 

It's the thought of tasting Matthew's blood as he fucks him that brings him over the edge.