human

by seagrassroses

Summary:

In a world where the Vampiric High Council rules with an iron fist, Yeosang has been genetically engineered to be the perfect donor; quiet, obedient, and able to supply enough blood to pull a whole unit of vampires back from the brink of death.

He never expects to be more than a medical supply, a donor. Locked behind watertight doors and bled dry. Day in and day out. It's his job, his purpose.

Until the crew of Hearts Awakened bursts into his life.

Chapter 1

Notes:

here we goooo back on my poly!teez agenda! this fic is about one third written so updates will be weekly and then likely a bit more sporadic towards the end, but i hope everyone enjoys the ride! if there are any tags i missed along the way, please let me know.

Importantly, this idea is not mine, it comes from @AuburnVivien on Twitter and you can click here to see the original post!

I got permission to write the prompt and I hope it lives up to expectations :)

Also! there are a lot of other bands/idols that will be mentioned in this fic - if they are portrayed negatively, please know it has no reflection on them as a group/individuals! it's just for name/story structure :) when someone's truly evil i tried hard to not use an idols name and instead leaned on my sister's kdrama villain knowledge.

okay! i think that's all the housekeeping so on to the fic! i hope you enjoy <3

Year 286 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2703 by the calendar of the Old World

“Presenting the donor class of 286.”

Yeosang’s handler reads from a holocron, the words, a shining blue, scroll by. The audience before him contains twelve sergeants; undead skin pale, almost translucent under the harsh lights of the discharge hall.

Yeosang stands ramrod straight, his eyes down. One of twelve, he represents the newest class of genetically engineered blood donors. The newest offering from the Optimized Provisions branch of the Ressovsky Association of Haematic Sciences. He’s been optimized to keep vampires alive on the field of battle – and off it.

He's belonged to the Upyri Republic Defense Department since he was an embryo.

His class is split into two groups. Six boys, six girls. He’s never seen the female members of his cohort. Military units were segregated by sex when he was created and so the donor classes followed suit. And though the Vampiric Council ordered the desegregation of the military under Ruling 573, Provision C, RHS only followed suit with the generations of donors created after that ruling.

Curiosity pokes at him, but he keeps his eyes firmly on the ground. Unseeing.

The boys, he does know. Their schedules included time together. Once a week, in the hour after their session with their doctors and before their set bedtime. Emotional development was the given reason.

Thinking back on those nights, Yeosang isn’t so sure.

“Does it hurt?” Kai’s voice trembles. The youngest of their cohort, he’s only just turned sixteen.

Yeosang lays on his cot, head pillowed in Soobin’s lap, face beading with sweat. The surgery was a success, the doctors say. But Yeosang’s abdomen throbs and the touch of a cloth as Yeonjun tries to dab his sweat away is like fire to his skin.

“A-A little,” Yeosang says. He doesn’t know why he lies. It won’t make a difference in the end.

The door opens and closes. Their doors are heavy. Hard to move quickly or quietly.

“I brought more ice.”

It’s Taehyun. The sound of ice clinking against the bucket follows him.

“Thank you.”

Yeosang flinches away as Yeonjun brings it to his forehead, trying to bury his head further into Soobin’s lap. Soobin stops him.

“Shh, it’s for your own good.” Soobin’s voice is quiet, gentle. Yeosang often thought he was too gentle to have survived the program.

Yeonjun leans over to bring the ice to his temple.

He frowns, “They shouldn’t have left you like this.”

“Yeonjun.” Beomgyu interjects.

He’s sitting on the floor by the door and has been since Yeosang was brought to them. Yeosang shifts towards him, biting back against the pain that flares. Beomgyu’s face is ashen, his arms tight around his knees. A dark bruise mars his jaw.

“It’s dangerous.” Yeonjun says sharply. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and a shout, “If we’re such valuable assets, why aren’t there nurses here monitoring him? What are we going to do if he gets worse?”

Yeonjun’s a…special case at RHS. He’d been brought in when he was eight and already had ideas about how the world should work. An experiment in testing the capabilities of natural-born humans against science-born humans.

Their handlers did not approve and the experiment was never attempted again.

“He’s not going to die overnight,” Beomgyu pushes back. “If you keep complaining, they’ll punish us all. Then we’ll really be in trouble.”

Yeonjun opens his mouth, but Yeosang grabs at his hand. The other boy turns back to him.

“It…It’s okay.”

Beomgyu’s right. And…and Yeosang is scared that if Yeonjun keeps pushing their handlers, they’ll separate them again. It’s far worse to go from the operating table to a cold, empty room.

Yeonjun sighs. He cards his fingers through Yeosang’s sweat-soaked hair. They catch on knots and tangles, but it gives Yeonjun something to work on and Yeosang likes the feeling.

“Okay, okay.”

Yeosang leans into his hand with a smile.

“Kang Yeosang, 20, registered and certified by RHS Optimized Provisions.”

His handler’s voice jolts him back to the present moment. He’s never known his handler’s name. It’s strange, in a way, that even now he hasn’t heard it.

“Assigned to URS Shadow. Reporting to Sergeant Boo Seungkwan.”

The vampire that steps forward looks younger than Yeosang expected. He’s around the same height as Yeosang, but physically broader. His brown hair is gelled back professionally and his military uniform is tailored neatly to his proportions. It’s much more involved that Yeosang’s, with a thick, black jacket embroidered with insignias and identifying patches.

A donor’s outfit is a simple pair of beige cargo pants, black boots, and a boatneck white shirt. Easy to find in a crowd, easy to get to his neck, and easy to bleach clean.

Yeosang goes to him with measured steps. His heart’s beating steadily. He wonders, absently, if it’d be racing if it hadn’t been modified to not react to stress. His stomach’s certainly twisting in knots.

The assignments go out systematically. It’s all business. He tries not to react as each member of his cohort is assigned to different units, but he can’t help as his eyes trace their movements.

Taehyun to Sergeant Jeon Jeongguk.

Kai to Sergeant Kim Seokjin.

Beomgyu to Sergeant Moon Byulyi.

Soobin to Sergeant Kim Namjoon.

Yeonjun is last. Assigned to Sergeant Min Yoongi’s unit. Yeosang breathes a small sigh of relief as he follows the rules. A small bow to his Sergeant, and then he keeps his eyes on the ground.

Once he’s certain Yeonjun is safe, he brings his eyes back to the ground where they belong. It’s cement. The discharge room is the one area of the Compound he’s never been in and it’s no different from the grey floors of the training room, of the examination room, of his own sleeping quarters.

It’s the last time he’ll ever see it. There’s a thrill of excitement knowing he’ll never see these cement floors again.

“Dismissed.”

The vampires and their donors all give a short bow. Yeosang stays two steps behind his Sergeant, as he was trained, as he walks out of the hall and into an elevator. The elevators lead to a hotel for visiting military personnel, but out of the corner of his eye, he can see some of his classmates guided away from the elevators.

Towards the doors to the outside world.

He tries not to be jealous as the elevator doors close in front of him. It’s silent on the ride up. Sergeant Boo doesn’t look at him.

Ding.

The elevator doors slide open, light spilling in.

Yeosang restrains his desire to look up. The hotel attached to the Compound technically belongs to RHS, but it’s meant for visitors. What if it looks different? It could be made of different materials, or even have different lights illuminating the halls. But it’s improper for him to stop and look around.

And he knows what happens to donors that don’t know their place.

Sergeant Boo exits ahead of him, steps sure. Yeosang follows and is greeted with something excitingly new. The floor is black marble instead of dull cement. It reflects the bright lights of the hall and Sergeant Boo’s formal boots click sharply against the material, sound echoing around them.

Yeosang was given new work boots for his discharge day. The rubber squeaks against the polished surface and he tries not to wince.

The sergeant comes to a halt in front of a door. There’s a tap and an affirmative Beep!

Yeosang looks up for only a moment and nearly gasps. It’s the most ornate room Yeosang has ever seen. Fancier than he could have ever imagined.

The suite opens into a shining kitchenette. A living space lays right behind; there’s a new grey couch positioned neatly next to a window covered by heavy drapes. A painting of a forest hangs above the couch. There are doors on either side but Yeosang pulls his gaze back to the floor.

The black marble continues in here, shining and spotless.

“This way.” Sergeant Boo directs him past the living space, into an office.

He sits gracefully behind a dark wood desk and pulls a file out of the drawer. Paper, surprisingly. He must be an old vampire. He gestures for Yeosang to sit opposite him.

“When we get back to camp, you’ll stay with our medic. Medical Officer Chwe Hansol, human.”

Yeosang stumbles slightly as he sits. Nowhere in his training did RHS mention humans in the military.

From what he’d been taught, that was a thing of the past. Now, eligible humans trained and studied for years for the honor of being turned. The Vampiric High Council mandated seventy-five years in the military after they were turned, but then they were free to live their lives the way they wished.

“Our unit has five vampires, two humans. Humans take care of non-battle tasks. They’re too…breakable.” Sergeant Boo must have noticed his confusion because he elaborates, “It’s a recent change. Under current guidelines, joining a unit pre-turning is the last step of their training.”

Yeosang nods. He resists the urge to twist his hands together. RHS was very clear that donors should require no explanation. They should follow their sergeants without question.

Sergeant Boo is unaware of his internal turmoil, though, “Officer Chwe will be in charge of your meals, as well as coordinating our feedings. We prefer our blood from blood bags, so he will pull your blood daily. On the field, you’ll be expected to be ready to be fed from directly.”

Yeosang nods again. Though not a hard and fast rule, it’s standard procedure for military units. Less messy and easier to track how much blood he’s given.

“Your file says you can supply enough blood to bring fourteen vampires back from the brink of death before risking injury and death. That’s the top percentile of your donor class. Is that accurate?”

“Yes, sir.” Yeosang says.

He hopes his voice didn’t shake. The day they tested how much he could give hovers at the edge of his consciousness. He forcefully pushes the memory down.

“Hm,” Sergeant Boo flips through his file. “Impressive. We’ll of course keep an eye on you, but with that in mind, we may also lend you out while on the field, as necessary. Genetically engineered donors are in short supply, as I’m sure you know.”

A shiver runs down his spine. It’s against procedure. But procedure is second to whatever your sergeant says.

From what he’d been taught, most units relied on a series of normal human donors. With one human donor per every two vampires, they could give enough to satiate, but they couldn’t give them enough blood to speed up the healing process if they were injured – or bring a vampire back from the edge of death.

That’s where genetically engineered donors come in.

The Sergeant peers at him, “RHS sometimes…exaggerates their successes. If this number is not accurate, I need you to tell me.”

“It’s…” Yeosang wets his lips, “It’s accurate. If each vampire needs four liters of blood, my body can regenerate enough blood with no more than three minutes between feedings for fourteen vampires, as per regulation standards.”

“And, on average, how long between feedings do you need to regenerate four liters of blood?”

“One minute, sir.”

“I’m guessing this increases slightly the faster you're fed from?”

“Yes, sir.” Yeosang hesitates, “After ten feedings, I need two minutes and forty-five seconds to regenerate fully. Though…depending on how quickly I’m needed, I can be fed from and regenerate simultaneously. Up to 56 liters.”

Sergeant Boo quirks an eyebrow, “Good to know, but hopefully it won’t come to that. And should you be bled to your limit, you’ll need a week of recovery, is that accurate?”

“To bring me back to full functionality, yes, sir.”

“Mm,” The Sergeant writes something in the margins of his file, “One more thing.”

He pulls a silver choker from a drawer. The metal shines under the harsh overhead lights.

A tracker.

RHS had taken their’s off Yeosang this morning, but it’s standard procedure to wear a tracker. Useful if he’s ever busy helping one vampire and another needs him. It bio-locks to the unit. Unless they take it off him or die, it will be nearly impossible to remove without snapping his neck in the process.

He was prepared to be outfitted with another one, but his stomach still twists as the Sergeant steps behind him. He clasps the collar around Yeosang’s neck, tightening it until it’s snug. His hands are cold as ice.

“Too tight?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well,” Sergeant Boo sits back down, pulling his tablet in front of him, “You are dismissed.”

Yeosang nods and stands. And then stops…what is expected of him when he isn’t being of use? Where is he allowed to be, what is he allowed to do?

“Sir?” It comes out soft, tentative.

“Yes?”

Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not act unless instructed. These are the basic tenets of being a RHS donor.

“Nevermind, sir.”

Anxiety swirls inside him, but the sergeant doesn’t seem to think anything of his hesitation. He just waves him off.

Unsure, but relieved he hasn’t messed up already, Yeosang makes his way back to the main living space. Now that he’s alone, he can really look around. There’s a bedroom off to the other side. It’s…most similar to his resting quarters in the Compound.

Maybe that’s where he should wait?

He stops abruptly at the door. There’s a suitcase in front of the meticulously made bed. This must be where Sergeant Boo sleeps – if he chooses to. Vampires need far less rest than humans.

Either way, it’s not a space Yeosang is meant to be in.

He backs away, glancing around the room.

His eyes catch on the drape-covered window.

Yeosang has never seen the outside world. He’s only gotten glimpses through pictures in his holocrons. Carefully manicured to include only the most important information.

The curtains are a deep emerald and heavy enough to block out the sun in the middle of the day. It’s not necessary. Vampires have long since evolved to survive exposure to sun, though most still prefer the darkness.

His hand hovers over the cloth. There’s a sliver of sunlight peeking out. Surely it wouldn’t hurt? He’d put it right back.

Do not act unless instructed.

His hand falls to his side. Right.

He stands at attention instead, like he’s been trained to. And he waits.

–

They leave in the dead of night. Yeosang keeps his eyes on the ground. He’s a little disheartened to find that the walkway from the hotel is the same cement of the Compound. He’s even more disappointed when he ushered into a windowless army vehicle.

The dark of the car is off putting, even though the ride is smooth. Sergeant Boo sits across from him, eyes on his data pad. Yeosang’s never had a datapad before – unlike holocrons, they’re connected to the internet, to the world.

He can’t see what Sergeant Boo is working on from here so he brings his gaze back to the floor.

A knot of anxiety is growing in his stomach. Harder and harder to ignore.

He’s never been given nothing to do. At the Compound, he was either with the doctors, studying, or fast asleep. Every moment was scheduled to ensure he was the best tool he could be. His training took up his whole life.

Here though, his role suddenly feels very small. He’s a medical supply. Nothing more.

And he knows – he does – that this is the role he is destined to play. He’s been told countless times.

Maybe it’ll feel better when he’s drained.

Yes.

At least then the familiar sluggishness of blood loss would make his mind less active. He leans back against his seat and closes his eyes.

He lets the hours pass, trying to force his brain into an almost meditative state. But once they leave the maglev streets of Lilitu, he feels every bump and dip, every corner taken too quickly. The jarring of the car wears at his nerves and he’s desperately tired when the vehicle finally comes to a stop.

“We’re here.” Sergeant Boo clicks his datapad closed.

Yeosang stands at once. His head aches and he’s mildly nauseous. But he doesn’t let himself sway as he jumps down and out of the car.

His feet slide a little as they hit the ground. He stares down in surprise.

Because below his boots is dirt. He marvels at the way it gives beneath his boots. There’s even small plumes of dust that are dispersed with every step he takes. It’s nothing like the concrete he grew up with or the marble of the hotel.

Sergeant Boo leads him through the camp, but he’s not even interested in looking around. The ground is patterned with the shapes of shoes of all sizes, lines drawn by carts that go off in all directions. His eyes follow them, tracing the swirls and shapes.

“This is the medical tent.”

Yeosang nearly crashes into Sergeant Boo.

The tent perfectly matches what he’s seen on his holocrons. It’s a large, geometric building designed to be quick to put up and quick to tear down. Made of durable material that won’t budge under wind or rain with electricity running through the poles, it’s nothing like the tents of old. The inside should feel no different than an ordinary building.

His knowledge proves correct once he steps inside. The ground is made up of beige tiles that can be snapped together and folded away easily. The walls are lined with medical supplies and a few cots are set up in the back of the room with an examination table in the center.

It’s well lit, fluorescent lights lining the poles that make up the ceiling. They make Yeosang queasy.

“Seungkwan – you’re back!” A human rushes over to them. His brown hair is cut short to military regulations and he’s dressed in a white doctor’s coat. His skin is a warm gold.

Medical Officer Chwe.

He gives Yeosang a once over, “Is this the donor?”

“Kang Yeosang, top of his cohort,” Sergeant Boo says, “I sent a copy of his file to you.”

“Excellent,” Officer Chwe claps his hands, “I’ll take it from here.”

Sergeant Boo nods and turns without much fanfare.

“Don’t forget to come to breakfast tomorrow,” The medical officer narrows his eyes, “08:00 sharp! We’re making your favorite!”

Sergeant Boo just waves his hand. Yeosang can’t help but stare at the officer in shock. He was a human and he just shouted at a vampire. And not just any vampire but his sergeant.

“Ah, he’ll come around,” Officer Chwe says, “Seokmin’ll drag him out if he doesn’t.”

He looks at Yeosang as though expecting something. A response? Yeosang has no idea what to say. So instead, he drops his eyes to the tiles.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here.” Officer Chwe continues, “We’ve been getting our blood shipped in since we lost our last donor. Not ideal for a navy unit.”

Lost their last donor?

“Your meal times will be at 07:00, 12:00, and 18:00. I’ve used the RHS recommendations to build a meal plan, but if you’re feeling too weak, please tell me.”

Officer Chwe crosses the room and taps lightly on the side of the tent. A panel lifts up to reveal a small room. Not unlike the rest of the tent, only this one holds a standard military cot. The lights aren’t as harsh in this room.

“And this is where you’ll rest – you do need rest, right?” Officer Chwe asks. Yeosang nods.

“Good, I’d have felt silly if I’d prepared it for you and then you didn’t even need to sleep.”

“Eight hours is still preferable, sir.” Yeosang says hesitantly.

“Ah, no need to call me sir, just Hansol’s fine.” Officer Chwe – Hansol – waves his hand, “I’ll be called sir plenty in my lifetime.”

Yeosang nods again.

“Alright, unless you have any questions, I’d like to get your first draining out of the way,” Hansol says, “It’s late enough as it is.”

Yeosang shakes his head. He doesn’t have any questions.

“Okay, up you get,” Hansol points to the exam table.

It’s one of the ones that can rise and lower and it’s set up so Yeosang can sit in it, rather than need to lay fully back. It’s covered in a sheet of paper.

Yeosang winces as the paper crunches beneath him. Hansol wheels over a medical cart. A tray holds the medical materials needed and there’s a machine on the bottom that’s hooked up to a bag. There are markings on the bag – up to 20 liters. It’s a little…unsettling to see. The doctors at the Compound always kept the blood bag behind them.

“Arm.”

Yeosang holds out his arm. Hansol ties a rubber band around it before quickly inserting a SPIVC. It’s easy to find Yeosang’s veins. They were designed that way.

Yeosang stares at the plastic tube. He learned about these back at the Compound. A specialized type of catheter that can stay in him for up to a week before it needs to be changed. It makes it easier for them to take his blood.

It also means he has to live with a needle in his arm. A small needle – the current design is flexible so he can easily move his arm. But a needle nonetheless.

Hansol connects a tube to the SPIVC and Yeosang watches the red of his blood flow out and towards the container. The intermediary machine whirs to life as blood passes through.

“It’ll count the liters for us, there’ll be a two minute break every four liters.” Hansol says, “Wave me down if you need anything, I’m going to tidy up for tomorrow.”

Yeosang nods and Hansol bustles away. There’s the sound of bottles clinking and drawers opening and closing but Yeosang lets it all fade to the background. It’s easy with the machine buzzing away next to him.

The familiar haze of blood loss starts to creep up on him. It’s a relief.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Hansol returns. His hands are gentle – and surprisingly warm – as he disconnects the tube and wraps it away. He doesn’t jolt the needle left in Yeosang’s arm.

“All done,” Hansol hums as he finishes up. “No need to drain you all the way, I just pulled enough for a few days of feedings. We’re on break until we have a large enough stockpile of blood to be comfortable. But with how fast you regenerate, it should only take us about a week to get fully ahead.”

Even through his haze, the all too familiar curiosity is still there, poking at him. He wants to ask where they’ll go when the time comes, even though it’s unlikely Hansol even knows.

Do not speak unless spoken to.

Yeosang nods to show he understands. He doesn’t speak.

“Well, I’ll see you in around two hours with your morning meal.” Hansol yawns, “I have to get this to processing and I need to get some sleep myself…Just because Seungkwan doesn’t need sleep doesn’t mean I don’t.”

The last sentence is muttered under his breath.

Yeosang watches with interest as he takes the cart and tries to roll it out of the medical facility. It’s awkward – Hansol has to push the door open, prop the cart against it so it doesn’t close again, and then stop it from crashing back into him once the cart has finally made its way through.

After a few groans and a muttered curse, Hansol’s manages, door shutting firmly behind him. Then there’s a clicking sound, like he’s locking up for the night.

He probably is, Yeosang thinks.

His mind drifts for a bit. Exhaustion pulls on the edges of his consciousness as his body adjusts to the lack of blood. And then his blood regenerates. A small bit of energy starts to pulse through his veins.

He should really move. They might need the examination table tomorrow – Hansol might need it before he wakes up and, with no alarm, Yeosang has no way to make sure he’s awake before the medical officer returns.

He’ll just have to hope Hansol will wake him when it’s time for breakfast.

Yeosang forces his limbs to move and then drags himself over to the small room. He flops onto the cot. It’s…different from his hard mattress at the Compound. It sways a little under his weight.

Yeosang lets out a small sigh as he lays on his back. His eyes trace the poles of the tented ceiling. He used to sit up with Soobin at night, talking about a future where they were free of cement ceilings and walls. Wondering what it would be like to see the stars outside of holocrons.

Some medical tents have skylights. This is not one of those tents.

He wonders if any of the others have gotten lucky. If they’re looking up at the stars right now.

–

The days pass and the task force of URS Shadow seem nice.

Hansol mentions they have a corresponding ground unit that stays with them whenever they’re not deployed and from what Yeosang can tell, they have a lot of fun together. He can make out small snippets of their conversations through the walls of the medical tent as they pass by.

More than that though, he can hear when they laugh and shout and sing once the sun has set.

Most nights, he finds himself sitting facing the sounds. He squints to see if he can make out where they’ve set up their campfire for the night. If he closes his eyes, he can feel the warmth of the fire. He can see the members of his unit talking happily. They look like his class back at the Compound in his mind. He can hear Kai in their laughter if he tries hard enough.

They’re not out there. Yeosang knows it but…he can’t help but imagine it. In his imagination, he’s out there too, watching sparks fly up into the sky.

He wonders if he’ll ever meet the members of his actual unit.

His answer comes one morning, on the seventh day after his arrival. Hansol has just brought him his breakfast (rice, an unappetizing slab of ham, charred spinach, and a few pieces of dried peach) when Sergeant Boo enters the medical tent.

“Oh good, you haven’t taken his blood yet.”

“Not yet.” Hansol sounds surprised to see the sergeant. He’s sitting next to Yeosang, scrolling through his datapad.

“Perfect,” Sergeant Boo pulls out a holocron and hands it to Hansol. Yeosang puts his chopsticks down.

“We’ve been cleared to deploy tomorrow.” The sergeant says, “There’s conflict in the northern islands. We’ve been ordered to subdue it.”

His eyes dart to Yeosang. “The details of the campaign should be on this holocron.”

Hansol’s eyebrow quirks at the obvious redirect, but he accepts it. His eyes flit rapidly as he taps through the holocron. Yeosang keeps his own gaze on the table though he feels a hint of excitement. They’ll be going on a ship. Yeosang’s never been on a ship. He wonders what it will look like, what it will feel like to be on the water.

“Winter conditions, I’ll prepare for it.”

“Good. And you’ll keep Yeosang with you. Where you go, he goes.”

“Got it.”

Sergeant Boo nods, “Tomorrow. 06:00.”

“Aye, aye,” Hansol gives a mock salute.

Yeosang once again wonders if he has a death wish, but Sergeant Boo just sighs. Yeosang thinks he might see a small…smile? on his face as he turns to leave.

Strange.

“Well, eat up!” Hansol nudges him, “We’ll get our things ready first – I’ll drain you after so you have plenty of time to rest before we leave tomorrow.”

The preparation goes quicker than Yeosang thought it would. Hansol has kept the space in order and he only has to decide what he wants packed into boxes for the ship. It’s not long before another human arrives, rolling in piles of light weight metal containers.

This human’s hair is shiny with gel – though pieces of his hair still fall into his face.

“Ah, here you are – perfect!” Hansol waves him in, “Ah, Seokmin, you haven’t met Yeosang yet, have you?”

The man – Seokmin – stops and looks at Yeosang in surprise. Yeosang gives him a bow. It’s slightly improper, his hands are full with bedding.

“No – this is the donor, right?”

“Yep.” Hansol picks a box up, setting it on the counter so he can start filling it, “Seokmin, Yeosang, Yeosang, Seokmin. Seokmin’s also a vampire-in-training.”

Yeosang gives another bow, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Seokmin says. He looks Yeosang up and down like he’s sizing him up.

Hansol steps in front of Yeosang, hands on his hips. “Aren’t you here to help?”

Seokmin turns an interesting shade of red and immediately tries to back up, “Ah—”

Hansol doesn’t let him. He grabs him by the wrist and pulls him towards the cabinets of supplies.

“Perfect! Yeosang, you take the bedding and layer it in that container. Seokmin, you can help me double check our stock.”

“Hansol,” Seokmin whines.

“Nope! You’ll be grateful we did it when you fall down the stairs again.”

“That was one time!”

Seokmin goes to hit Hansol but the other human dodges with a shout of joy. He runs to the other side of the room, Seokmin hot on his heels. Hansol grabs the rolling medical cart, swinging it in between them to act as a barricade.

Yeosang follows his orders. He places the bedding carefully into its lightweight container, but he can’t tear his eyes away from them. They’re so full of life.

Notes:

thanks for reading!

always feel free to come talk to me on twitter!

Chapter 2

Notes:

oh my god thank you all for all the love on the first chapter!! i really appreciate each and every one of them 🥺

on to chapter 2! a long one for me and also a bit dark so general warnings for violence and dehumanization in this one (so sorry - it's for the comfort to hit harder i promise)

and while some members of seventeen are featured pls know that their actions reflect the society of this fictional world and not my understanding of their irl character ;)

Year 286 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2703 by the calendar of the Old World

It’s still dark when Hansol wakes Yeosang up.

“Time to go.”

Yeosang resists the urge to whine. He’s kept the same schedule for years and his mind is fuzzy, eyes still sealed shut. He wants to stay bundled up in his cot.

“Yeosang?” Hansol’s voice is curious.

An order. He’s ignoring an order.

Donors do not ignore orders. Not under any circumstances and definitely not because they’re tired. He forces himself up, eyes scrunched closed still.

“Look at you, acting all human.” Hansol chuckles, “Come on, the car’s waiting out front.”

There’s a small commotion as Hansol leaves him. He must trip over something on his way out. Yeosang stays on his bed, sitting still, eyes barely open.

Acting all human?

Yeosang’s sleep-muddled brain catches on the phrase, repeating it, turning it over, studying it. Yeosang is…he’s human, isn’t he?

He pulls on his daily uniform and tries not to think. He knows he’s not the same as other humans. But he’s still human. He thinks he’s still human. Technically.

Night is still blanketing the world in darkness when Hansol ushers him outside. And this time Yeosang doesn’t keep his eyes on the ground. This time he looks at the bustling base around him.

The camp is much larger than he thought, stretching out in all directions. Most of the tents sit quiet, but a few have vampires with pale skin that glows under the camp lights, collecting their things.

The electric lights make the sky seem murky, but Yeosang thinks he can make out a few stars peeking through. He’s not sure where the moon is though.

“This way,” Hansol pulls him forward, a hand around his arm. He’s guiding him towards a car. “Seungkwan insisted we humans take the newer transport – something about how we have weaker constitutions.”

As he steps inside, Yeosang can’t help but think that this car doesn’t look any different than the one he took from the Compound to the base. Same dark interior. No windows. And the driver is blocked off by a divider. The only thing that’s new is that Seokmin is already on board. And fast asleep.

Yeosang sits down and braces himself for a long, dull journey. His mind flits back to his classes. To hours of staring mindlessly at holocrons detailing army rankings. What he wouldn’t give for one of those old holocrons now.

“Try to sleep,” Hansol flops down next to Seokmin, “We want you to get as close to your eight hours as possible.”

It’s a relief to not have to sit at attention. He obediently closes his eyes. The call of sleep is strong, almost pulling him in, but there’s a jolt as the car starts to move.

They’re really going.

To a ship.

He’ll be on a ship. On the water.

Sleep does not come back to him.

–

Yeosang steps out of the car and is nearly blinded.

It’s daytime and the sun is shining. His eyes can barely process the amount of light hitting them and he has to blink furiously to get them to focus.

There’s a laugh behind him – Seokmin.

“Here,” He hands him a wide brimmed hat, “These vampires love staying up at night – they never think about how us poor humans aren’t as good at readjusting back to the light.”

“Thank you,” Yeosang takes the hat gratefully.

With the hat on, his eyes are just shaded enough to start making out details in the sunlit world. There are clouds in the sky, white and fluffy. They’re slightly grey underneath. They move across the bright blue sky, pushed by a warm breeze.

And in front of him is a giant warship, docked neatly. It’s a stark white against the calm blue of the ocean’s waters. The sleek edges make a narrow oblong shape, coming to a sharp point in the front. Yeosang doesn’t know a lot about navy warships but the ship is completely covered – protected from the elements – save a section designed to be fully submersible. There’s a command tower in the center and it’s the only part he can see with windows.

Humans mill about the submersible deck, stocking the ship and checking the missile and drone launchers.

“A beauty, isn’t she?” Seokmin says proudly, “URS Shadow, maiden voyage in 284, one of the best of the fleet. I’ve been vying to get on this exact ship since it was announced.”

Yeosang cocks his head to the side, questions hang on the tip of his tongue. He wants to ask about the ship – Seokmin must know its history, what makes it special. He forces them down though. He can’t slow his unit down with questions that don’t pertain to his efficacy.

He rights himself, only risking a small look at Seokmin. Donors should keep their eyes politely on the ground, but Seokmin is watching him strangely. Like he’s waiting...for something. For him to speak?

Should he say something? Yeosang flounders mentally. It’s really not his place, but if it’s something Seokmin expects—

“Ah, Yeosang, there you are,” Hansol saves him. The medic is smiling brightly, his eyes dart to Yeosang’s head, “Oh, Seokmin gave you a hat! Cute.”

He gives Seokmin a wink. Yeosang reaches up to trace the brim of his hat. Cute?

Hansol claps his hands, “Let’s get you to the medical bay. Seokmin here has some supplies to manage.”

Seokmin groans, “Fine, fine.”

“Go on then,” Hansol waves him off, hands on his hips.

Seokmin rolls his eyes but heads back to the car. There’s a trunk Yeosang hadn’t noticed that morning and Seokmin pulls bag after bag from the space. They’re all black, military grade and branded with the crest of the Upyri Republic. The Vampiric Council designed it long before Yeosang was born, shortly after the Vampire Revolution. A blood orange tree growing out of a field of swords. The growth of vampire society even after the loss of so many at the hands of prejudiced humans. 

“This way, Yeosang.” Hansol places a hand on Yeosang’s shoulders, turning him back towards the ship.

The medical officer guides them down the dock, but he doesn’t try to talk to Yeosang the way Seokmin had. It’s a relief.

Instead, Yeosang can focus on the boards of wood beneath his feet. They’re a warm brown and they bend slightly beneath his steps. And they creak.

That’s new.

It’s an imperfection. Vampires don’t like imperfections, but Hansol doesn’t seem bothered by it when Yeosang looks up at him. He’s walking over them like there’s nothing out of the ordinary – there’s even a little spring in his step. This must be expected then. Yeosang lets the boards add a little jump to his step too.

They were dropped off close to the ship, but there’s a stand in front of a big revolving gate blocking them from boarding.

A human with deep bags under her eyes stands at the podium. Her skin is tan from working in the sun. Yeosang stares at her warm-toned hand as she waves them forward. Her fingernails are painted blue.

“Badge?” She asks. Her voice is bored, her chin resting with her other hand. This close, Yeosang can see chips in the nail polish.

“Here,” Hansol hands over a metallic card, “And his should be…let’s see…”

A hand comes to the back of Yeosang's neck, pulling him forward. Hansol taps against the collar. A hologram shoots out in front of them.

The girl jerks in surprise. Her nose scrunches up and her eyes narrow as she reads the hologram. She looks…disgusted?

Yeosang shrinks back.

Quickly, calm professionalism replaces the disgust, but Yeosang feels uneasy.

“Cleared.”

The gate buzzes open and Yeosang takes one more glance at her. She’s not looking at him, her eyes instead on a datapad in front of her. Her fingers type furiously.

He hesitates, watching her. But Hansol is already a few paces ahead of him and he can’t stay. Can’t try to figure out what she might have been thinking when she saw his identification.

Reluctantly, he half-jogs to catch up and nearly trips over the grating as he hits the boarding ramp to the ship.

This close, the afterdeck is huge. Launch pads line the edges – drones, submersibles, missiles, and some Yeosang doesn’t recognize. A few humans stand around the launch pads with datapads. They tap the edges of the pads and a hologram pops up. It’s a confusing mixture of symbols and images that fly past too quickly for Yeosang to make sense of.

He wobbles slightly as he finally makes it up the ramp. The ocean pulses lightly underneath him. Curious, he peers over the side. Small waves lap against the ship, dark blue shifting to light blue and then exploding into white bubbles.

It’s entrancing – the rhythmic sounds of water against metal. The push and pull of the ocean. He leans over.

“This way,” Hansol calls.

The medical officer is already on the other side of the deck, standing by an open door. Yeosang can’t make out his expression he’s so far away.

Yeosang flushes and rushes over. It’s not befitting for a donor to get distracted by bubbles.

Hansol doesn’t seem concerned though, his expression no different than it usually is when Yeosang makes it to him. He simply turns and gestures for him to follow him further into the ship.

The hall is enclosed, cut off from natural light. Yeosang hesitates.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt?

As subtly as he can, he turns and allows himself one more look at the sky. Clear, blue. The sun shining so brightly it almost looks white. Barely a cloud in the sky.

“Yeosang?”

Yeosang shakes himself and follows Hansol into the hall. The daylight falls away, replaced by artificial light that pales in comparison.

The ship itself is standard. Black, non-slip floors made of a synthetic material that catches the rubber of his boots. The hall is lined with watertight doors, each with a small symbol above them. Yeosang doesn’t recognize most of them. The air is so thick with cleaning chemicals that Yeosang has to hold back a sneeze.

Hansol ushers him through one of the doors. It leads to a narrow flight of stairs.

“You’ll stay in the medical bay, of course, just like at camp,” Hansol says, “It’s just to your left here.”

Just off the stairs is a white door with a red cross. A symbol Yeosang is very familiar with.

“Home sweet home.” Hansol pushes the door open. “Lucky for us, we won’t need to go on leave nearly as often now that we have you.”

His voice echoes in Yeosang’s ears. Reverberating until the words lose their meaning. 

Because the medical bay is small. And there are no windows. 

The walls are an unappealing white and the floor has been given the same epoxy covered treatment that covers the halls. The only light comes from fluorescent bulbs lining the low ceiling. It’s darker than the medical tent, with sunlight filtering through its fabric like walls. And smaller than the Compound with its echoing halls and oppressively grand classrooms.

The only furniture are three cots pushed against the far wall and an exam table screwed into the center of the room. And it’s metal. And the cabinets are metal and the counters are metal.

A flash of surgical tools under fluorescent lights plays behind Yeosang’s eyes. Phantom pain pricks at his skin.

His steps are uncoordinated, but he pushes himself forward. 

“Are you…okay?” Hansol asks.

“Of course.” 

The ‘sir’ is on the tip of his tongue but he bites it back. Yeosang’s a professional. Trained, prepared, emotionless.

But his consciousness feels scattered, the room flickering in and out of focus. His chest is tight as he takes in the four walls that now seem so close to him. It’s almost like he’s…panicking. He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t care that the ceiling is low, that the exam table is made of metal, that the lights are bright and unnatural, or…or anything.

“Well, let’s get your first draining out of the way,” Hansol says hesitantly, “We don’t have a medical recliner here, so if you could just lay down…”

An order. Yeosang nods. He gets up on the cold metal, mechanically lying down. The fluorescent lights are blinding.

He looks to the side. Away from the lights and away from Hansol.

“I’m going to insert a new SPIVC.” Hansol warns.

It doesn’t really hurt – it never does – but Yeosang’s thoughts falter as he feels the familiar suction of his blood being pulled away. The cool of the immovable table eats through his clothes, the feeling of being poked and prodded like this – in a room like this – is all too familiar.

Memories claw at his conscious mind, trying to drag him back. Back to the operating table, cinched down as faceless doctors…worked…on him.

No.

He’s doing what he was created for. And he’s doing it perfectly. He’s laying on a table without struggling, giving more blood than his creators ever hoped he’d be able to offer.

He’s doing it – he’s doing everything they ever asked.

It doesn’t matter that he’ll be kept in a windowless, metal room while they’re at sea. It’s where medical supplies are kept. It makes sense.

“That’s enough for today.” Hansol murmurs.

It’s too soon. The comforting tiredness of blood loss hasn’t reached him yet. He turns his head towards the medical officer.

“I don’t want to drain you as much when we’re at sea. We want you in the best shape if something goes wrong.” Hansol answers his unspoken question.

“O-Okay.” His voice wavers traitorously.

It makes Hansol hesitate, a hand on the tube connected to Yeosang. But the moment passes as quickly as it came and he doesn’t ask. He just removes the tube. He secures the cart. He makes some notes on his datapad and then he goes to leave.

He stops at the door, turning back to Yeosang. He cocks his head to the side, as though asking something, though Yeosang has no idea what that might be.

“Get some rest?”

Yeosang doesn’t respond and Hansol doesn’t wait for him to. There a few bangs and then the click of the door locking.

The lights are still on, bright and painful against Yeosnag’s eyes. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t get up from the exam table. It would be worse if there was no light. The walls around him are already so close. Suffocating.

He closes his eyes against it all. Tries to imagine that he’s back at camp, listening to the songs his unit sang at night, imagining the stars above him.

It doesn’t work.

–

Being on board is…strange.

It’s hard to keep track of the days. Hansol does come for his daily drainings and he brings him his food, but it all blurs together. After a few days – a week? A couple of weeks? – Yeosang tries to develop a sort of routine.

He wakes up when Hansol brings him his breakfast. He sits through his draining. It’s never enough to lull his mind to rest so he creates a sort of exercise routine to keep the jittery feeling away instead. There’s no shower in the med bay, but Yeosang makes do by using a cloth to sponge himself down afterwards.

Once he’s clean, Hansol comes back with his lunch and often works from the med bay in the afternoon. It’s Yeosang’s favorite part of the day.

Because Hansol likes to talk. A lot.

It’s how Yeosang finds out that they saw an iceberg a few days after they left port. It’s how he finds out that they speared a fish no one – not even Sergeant Boo – had seen before. It’s how he finds out that they’re going on an espionage mission first rather than an all out offensive strike.

He listens with rapt attention as Hansol rambles on. Hansol never asks him to respond so he keeps his thoughts to himself but he hopes the medical officer can tell that he enjoys his stories.

And then one day, Hansol doesn’t deliver his lunchtime meal. Yeosang only knows because he’s had breakfast, he’s had his morning draining, he’s done his workout regimen, and he’s sponged down and clean. Since being on the ship, he’s worked hard to get his routine to line up with his lunch time.

But lunch doesn’t come. Instead, time passes. Enough time that Yeosang starts to wonder if he should try to leave the med bay. What if something’s gone wrong? What if they need him?

He walks to the door, he stares at it, he walks back.

If they need him they’ll send someone.

He walks back to the door. His hand hovers over the handle.

The door flies open. He has to jump away to avoid it.

“Yeosang!”

Hansol bursts into the room. There’s a vampire draped across his back. His hand is held to his neck, but blood spills through his fingers from an ugly gash.

Yeosang’s mouth goes dry.

Hansol collapses to the ground, vampire tumbling from his shoulders.

“Here! Yeosang!” Hansol reaches for him. Yeosang scurries to obey.

“Hold him.” He presses the vampire into Yeosang’s arm, pushing his face into Yeosang’s neck. The ghost of fangs send goosebumps over Yeosang’s skin.

“Drink, Wonwoo, drink.” Hansol urges. The vampire is weak though, barely able to hold up his head.

“Shit,” Hansol curses, “Don’t let him go, Yeosang!”

Yeosang hands come up around the vampire on instinct. He shivers as the vampire mouths at the crook of his neck. There’s a knot in his stomach. He’s been fed from only once. It was sterile. Quick. The board prefers to keep live feedings to a minimum.

A sharp pain shoots up his neck and he flinches back. It’s not the vampire. Hansol is crouching next to him, a scalpel covered in blood in his hand. Yeosang barely has a chance to gasp out a question before the vampire latches on.

His mind whites out. The drain of blood is quick and unlike anything he’s felt before.

A vampire on the verge of death…can suck a human dry in half a minute…

It’s...a line from one of his holocrons…from one of his…trainings…but nothing…can…prepare…

Black crowds his vision, pulling him down.

–

He wakes up alone. It’s the first thing Yeosang registers. He’s slumped against the wall. The overhead lights shine harshly against his eyes. And there’s no one in the medical bay.

Did…did the vampire…die?

No…he can’t have. Keeping vampires alive is the whole reason Yeosang exists.

His back aches and he tries to stretch, pushing himself into a kneeling position with a groan. There’s a strange crackle as he moves. He freezes.

Dried blood covers his shirt – it stains the white fabric a dark, ugly red. His pants haven’t been spared either. There’s dried blood under his fingernails. Nausea rises in his stomach.

He stumbles up, swaying as he falls against the sink. He yanks the shirt over his head and pushes his pants off – off and away from him. Away from him now!

His hands shake as he runs water over a towel. The towel’s white and soon it's stained an unsettling pink. He scrubs it furiously over his skin, trying to get the blood off.

Get it off! Get it off! Get it—

His vision shakes.

His hands are in front of him, blurry, scrubbing the blood away. The brown of it is swirling down the drain.

Soobin is in his arms, blood soaking through his bandage – his hands are wet with Soobin’s blood and Soobin is so pale.

His hands smart under the hot water. There’s blood on the cement floor. His breath comes in sharp gasps. His cheeks are wet.

He’s screaming.

He’s quiet. He’s biting his lip hard enough that it bleeds.

Stop, stop, stop—

His legs give out from under him. Water splashes down with him. It scatters across the clothes, tarnishing the sleek metal of the floor. His hands come to his head.

“What happened?!”

Yeosang holds Soobin close, “I don’t know – he just f-fainted and the-the surgery – it—”

A doctor yanks Soobin from his arms. Yeosang falls after him, sobbing.

His handler hits him, hand smarting across his cheek.

“Don’t cry.” He says, “Donors do not cry.”

“S-Soobin—”

“If Soobin isn’t strong enough to go through the procedure, he will be disposed of.”

He cries harder. He can’t help it.

“B-But—”

“Do RHS units talk back?” His handler is standing over him, his face pinched in anger. He’s mad. So mad.

Yeosang shuts his mouth with a snap. He shakes his head.

“Good. You haven’t completely lost your senses.”

Yeosang stays silent. Tears still trickle down his cheeks. His eyes are on the ground, fists clenched.

“Donors should not be this emotional.” There’s a smudge of blood on his handler’s boots. “No contact with the others in your class for two months.”

Tears well up in Yeosang’s throat. He holds them back the best he can. More weakness will not be rewarded.

Drip…

“Clean this up.”

Drip…

His handler leaves him. The door shuts with a decisive click.

Drip…

He scrubs the cement.

Drip…

There’s blood under his fingernails. He can’t clean it off.

Drip…

The water is still running, overflowing across the counters and dripping onto the floor. His skin is clammy. Water has soaked through his underclothes, they stick to him. Exhaustion clings to his bones. But the fog has lifted from his mind. Enough to move.

Mechanically, he pulls himself up. He wipes himself down. He turns the water off. He moves his bloodstained clothes to the disposal bin. He strips off his underclothes and adds them to the pile of laundry. He pulls on a fresh regulation uniform.

His hands stutter as he brushes the crook of his neck. He doesn’t know if the cut is still there or if it’s healed already. He doesn’t know what time it is – if only hours have passed or a full day.

The scalpel that made the incision is still on the floor by the wall, his blood dry against the blade.

Yeosang would like to think that Hansol would have tried to wake him, tried to move him, if a full day had passed. But he isn’t that different from the scalpel, really. Whether left on the floor or cleaned and put away, it still does its job.

He’s gentle as he picks the scalpel up, careful as he washes off the blood and dries it with a fresh towel. Once it shines under the lights, he places it neatly where it belongs. In a drawer with the other surgical tools.

He stares at them for a moment, but he can’t rest yet. There’s still water on the floor from his…outburst.

Methodically, he takes a towel and kneels, wiping away the blood stained water. Only when the ground is as clean as the day he arrived, does he get up.

Finally.

Now, his handler won’t be upset.

Yeosang’s just about to stubble to his cot when the door opens. He spins toward it, disoriented.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

It’s Hansol. Not his handler. Hansol, the medic for the URS Shadow. With a bright smile on his face, pushing a cart of food. Like it was any other day.

It is like any other day.

“And you’re all cleaned up too, I was worried I’d find you still passed out on the ground.” He gives Yeosang a satisfied once over before flipping open the folding table. He swings two rolling chairs over.

Yeosang doesn’t know how to respond. He feels weird. Disjointed.

“Well, come here, I have your lunch all ready.” Hansol motions him over.

Yeosang obeys, sitting properly. His stomach rolls, thoughts clashing in his head. He toys with his food, cutting the meat into smaller and smaller pieces. Hansol isn’t watching him, preoccupied with his datapad. He can’t keep it in.

“Did…did…” His voice is a little hoarse from crying.

Hansol looks up at him in surprise.

“Did…the vampire, did he make it?” Yeosang asks. He’s not supposed to ask questions, he knows, but he has to know. If he was successful in this, at least.

Hansol’s confusion clears, “Oh, Wonwoo? Yes, of course. Your blood got him back to full health. I discharged him before you even woke up.”

Yeosang breathes a sigh of relief.

“Your blood’s quite amazing,” Hansol adds, “I’ll be sure to send RHS a good report.”

Yeosang should feel proud – he knows he should. But instead, tension creeps into his muscles, his chest tightening.

Donors should not be this emotional.

He forces his focus back on his food. It tastes like ash against his tongue.

–

Year 287 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2704 by the calendar of the Old World

Time is passing. Hansol gives him a notebook after he saves Wonwoo. He’s not sure what Hansol wants him to do with it, but he uses it to track the passing of time.

And draw small figurines based on the vegetables in his meals.

It quickly becomes his second favorite part of the day.

Because with his notebook, he can track each day, but more importantly, he can track when the ship needs to go in for maintenance and cleaning. It happens once every three months.

In the week it takes to clean the ship, the crew is forced to disembark. Yeosang included.

Which means he gets to see the sky while they walk from the ship to their transport in whichever port city they’ve landed in. And then he gets to see it again when they walk from the transport to the hotel.

Even better, Yeosang rooms with Hansol and Hansol likes to keep the curtains open.

Well, when he isn’t sleeping. And he does sleep a lot when they’re off duty. But even if the medical officer doesn’t wake up until the afternoon, he still opens the curtains before he leaves to do whatever he does when he has time off.

Yeosang thinks he could spend the rest of his life looking out windows.

From the windows, he sees so much. He sees clouds pass in the sky. He sees waves crash against the beach. He watches humans rush off to their day jobs and children play in the streets. He sees vampires, pale skinned and dressed draping silks, sit outside a cafe and socialize, bags of goods resting at their feet. He sees cobblestone roads and red brick houses and modern skyscrapers looming in the distance.

He pretends he hasn’t been staring when Hansol gets back. He makes sure to preserve the image of a perfect donor, unfettered by human interests or whims. He has to be perfect. He’s sure Hansol will keep opening the curtains so long as Yeosang doesn’t show how distracted he is by the outside world.

He must be doing something wrong though because Hansol never seems quite…happy with him.

Late one night, the medical officer stumbles into the room while Yeosang is still staring at the stars. Yeosang is quick though. He composes himself. Back straight, eyes down.

“Wha’ even are you?” Hansol slurs. He sounds upset and inebriated, “A robot?”

Yeosang doesn’t know how to answer that. He’s…human? Staying quiet is probably the wrong thing to do – he has been asked to speak – but he doesn’t know what to say.

Hansol scoffs. He mutters something under his breath that Yeosang can’t hear and goes into his room. Yeosang watches him out of the corner of his eye with bated breath. There’s a thump and only a few moments later, a soft snore.

Excitement bubbles beneath Yeosang’s skin. He forgot to close the blinds!

Hansol's bad mood forgotten, Yeosang pulls his makeshift sleeping bag close to the window and nestles himself inside. He falls asleep staring at the stars.

–

Year 288 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2705 by the calendar of the Old World

They haven’t rested in a long time. Yeosang knows because they’ve missed two maintenance sessions in the past year. Hansol mentioned they squeezed a quick one in while they were briefly docked at the Capital, but they just did a basic engine check up. No one got to leave the ship.

They’ve also been getting injured more often and Yeosang finds himself being fed from directly at least once a week. None are as bad as the first time, none of the vampires as close to death as Wonwoo had been. The shock of it has dissipated too and he rarely passes out. A thing he is very grateful for – it’s far easier to clean himself off the moment they leave rather than wake up covered in blood.

Plus, this way, he gets to learn their names.

Corporal Kwon Soonyoung is Sergeant Boo’s right hand man. He has spiky white hair and clear blue eyes that scare Yeosang a little. But Seokmin loves to joke about him so he must not be that frightening. Yeosang’s only met him a few times, he must be very busy.

Private Lee Jihoon is very quiet, calm. He’s only needed to feed from Yeosang twice himself but he almost always comes down when another member of his unit is injured. He’s nearing the end of his service, and Yeosang’s heard more than one of the members of his unit whining about how they won’t know what to do without him.

Corporal Wen Junhui is the last vampire Yeosang meets. He’s been in the military for a long time, far more than the required seventy-five years. Seokmin seems a little afraid of him, but Yeosang doesn’t think he’s so frightening. Rather, he seems focused. Determined. The way Yeosang’s favorite trainers at the Compound were.

With each passing month, Yeosang sees them more and more. All their bites are standard, skilled. They don’t hurt him more than they have to. They keep to the accepted protocols in every way.

What is surprising, though, is how often Sergeant Boo needs feedings. He seems to be the one who gets injured the most, even though he’s the leader. And the rest of the unit seems to love him. They always bring him down themselves; a crash of bodies barrelling into the medical bay and calling desperately for Yeosang.

“Drink first.” Corporal Junhui pushes Sergeant Boo into Yeosang’s neck.

They purchased a mat to do feedings on. It’s not quite comfortable but it’s a lot better than sitting on the cold tile and a lot easier to maneuver around than a table. “N-No…Soonyoung…”

“My arm’s just broken—you’re bleeding out.” Corporal Kwon rolls his eyes. He stands back a little, one arm cradling the other.

“He’ll go next,” Hansol says gently. He sits by Yeosang’s side, he has a timer up, tracking how much blood Yeosang is giving and how quickly he’s giving it. “In order of need, doctor’s orders.”

Sergeant Boo doesn’t hesitate again – he must really be in pain – and bites into Yeosang’s neck, just below the collar. It’s not a good feeling, but Yeosang likes the way the others relax when they realize their sergeant will be fine. He likes being of use.

He stays focused on the relieved faces of his unit when Corporal Kwon bites over the same spot. His neck burns and his head spins as Corporal Kwon drinks. Mending bones requires a lot of blood and Corporal Kwon likes to feed quickly.

Yeosang slumps back as Corporal Kwon lets go. Hansol pulls the vampires away, forcing them onto the exam table to look over their injuries. With the amount of blood Yeosang is able to give them, their injuries should heal within minutes, if not seconds. Wonwoo – he never did learn his full title – fills up a bucket of water in the sink so they can clean their skin.

Yeosang lets his head loll back against the wall. It’s sweet, how they fuss over each other, the way their faces soften as they wipe away the blood and dirt to reveal uninjured skin.

The door bursts open. The vampires spin towards it.

“I’ve got in contact with central command,” Seokmin rushes in. His hair sticks to his forehead, sweat soaked, “They’re sending reinforcements, thank god. Retreat for now, towards the east islands.”

Sergeant Boo frowns, “That’s pirate water.”

“I know,” Seokmin runs a hand through his hair, “I tried to tell them—”

Sergeant Boo sighs, “I’ll go talk to them.”

He jumps off the table, the other vampires flutter around him, throwing a towel over his badly ripped uniform, pushing his damp hair into a more manageable stage, and murmuring words too quiet for Yeosang to hear.

“Hey!” Hansol grabs a medkit, “I still need to check you over—”

He races after them and it’s quiet again.

Except…Seokmin is still standing in the doorway. Frozen, as though he’d been about to follow them. But his eyes are on Yeosang, an indecipherable emotion on his face.

Yeosang watches him, blinking slowly. He’s tired. Even with the timer, they didn’t wait long enough between feedings. They rarely did. It’s okay, though. He doesn’t mind the hazy numbness that comes with sudden bloodloss. So long as he stays awake.

Seokmin breaks eye contact first but – to Yeosang’s surprise – he doesn’t leave. He instead makes his way to the sink and fills a small bucket full of water, holding a wrist under the faucet to check the temperature.

He brings the bucket over and a clean towel, kneeling next to Yeosang.

“Not very nice of them to leave you like this.” He says with a small smile. He dabs lightly around the incisions. They’ve stopped bleeding already but they’re still red and angry.

Yeosang watches him in fascination. This close, he can see the pores on his tanned skin and the smudge of dirt across his cheeks. His hands are calloused from working on a ship.

He’s incredibly gentle with Yeosang, even wincing sympathetically as he wipes away the blood. He pauses at the collar. His eyes are unreadable, but he just wipes it down, making sure to get any blood that’s slipped underneath the metal.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes.” He murmurs.

He helps Yeosang stand, hands securely pulling him up and then looping an arm around his back when he wavers.

Seokmin pulls the blood soaked shirt over Yeosang’s head, careful not to disrupt the SPIVC in his arm, and wipes the remaining smudges of blood and dirt away. The same with his pants, though he leaves his underclothes as is and helps Yeosang into a new uniform.

Yeosang can’t stop staring at him. He can’t understand why Seokmin is doing this. The private has stopped looking at him, but he doesn’t stop helping until he’s ushered Yeosang onto his cot.

“Are you warm enough?” He sounds…worried, almost sounds like he’s fretting over Yeosang.

Yeosang nods. He’s completely confused.

“When I’m turned, I won’t forget what it’s like to be human.” Seokmin sounds determined. He’s not looking at Yeosang, though. He’s staring into the distance, like he’s making a promise to himself.

Yeosang’s eyes start to grow heavy, but he tries to keep them open, to hold onto this strange moment. He wants to stay awake. He never wants to stay awake after he’s cleaned up.

“Okay, okay,” Seokmin chuckles, “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

He reaches out towards Yeosang’s head for a moment, but then pulls his hand back and steps away.

Yeosang watches through half-lidded eyes as Seokmin opens the door. He can’t just let him go. Not when he’s been so generous.

“...Thank you.”

Seokmin freezes. He looks back at Yeosang and now he thinks he knows that expression. It’s guilt.

Yeosang wonders why he feels guilty.

–

Year 289 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2707 by the calendar of the Old World

It’s been a year since they last pulled into port. The tallies, as straight and even as always, on Yeosang’s notebook show that, but the floor is also less steady under Yeosang’s feet. Rather than cutting through the waves, it feels like the waves are battering against the ship, tossing Yeosang against the walls at least a few times a day.

Hansol reduced his food a few months ago. He’s rationing it until they’re able to dock for even a few hours.

Tired and hungry, Yeosang stopped his exercise routine over a month ago. They need his blood often and it’s harder to recharge fully with his rations. He spends more and more of his time sleeping now.

When he isn’t sleeping, he fills his time by drawing in the unmarked corners of his notebook. His small little figures find homes amongst imagined forests and mountains. Clouds dot their skies. If he tries hard enough, when he looks at his drawings, he can remember what the outside world looked like.

It’s a day like any other when a particularly hard jolt knocks his pencil from his hand. He doesn’t think anything of it at first but then it happens again.

And again.

And again.

It’s not the normal jolt of a wave.

Nervous, he pushes himself up from his cot. He walks tentatively towards the door, arms out to steady him as the ship pitches again and again. He presses an ear against the door. It’s solid metal and he knows it’s soundproof. He’s never heard a sound through it and he can’t hear anything.

The floor rolls violently under him and he almost falls. The next pitch does send him careening into the door. His hand grasps for the only thing there is to catch him.

The door handle gives under Yeosang’s hand. He jumps back, holding his hand up like it's been scorched.

He stares at the door in shock. It’s…unlocked? He’s sure Hansol used to lock it…when did he stop?

He shouldn’t open it. He really shouldn’t. He should wait for Hansol.

He doesn’t step further from the door though.

What if Hansol can’t come? What if one of the members of his unit is injured and he has to stay with them?

What if someone dies? While Yeosang’s just standing here.

The floor rolls under him again and he does fall to his knees this time. This is not a storm. And his unit might need him.

And if he’s wrong…he’ll make his apologies. And they’ll lock him back where he belongs.

Determined, he grasps the handle. It’s a fight against his mind, but he pulls the door open. At first, the hall seems normal.

And then the tangy smell of blood hits his nose. He slaps a hand over his nose and mouth, horror shoots through him. His stomach turns violently.

No...no...

Hansol is on the ground in front of him, eyes wide and unseeing. His neck is torn open. His skin is deathly pale. As though…as though…

He’s been drained.

No...

Vampires.

No, no, no, no, no, no—

Yeosang stumbles backward, legs weak, but someone grabs his arm. 

Panic shoots through him, “Ah—”

A hand slaps over his mouth. The scream dies in his throat.

“Shh, shh. It’s just me,” It’s Seokmin.

He’s bleeding, one arm wrapped clumsily, but there’s a gash on his leg that’s soaking his pants. His eyes are red rimmed where they meet Yeosang’s. He lowers his hand.

"S-Seokmin?" Yeosang’s breaths are shaky, his vision is blurry, “H-Han-s-sol—”

“Not now,” Seokmin voice is thick, eyes shining. His eyes scan the hall, “This way.”

He pulls Yeosang forward, forcing him to step over Hansol. 

Yeosang resists, heels digging into the floor. He can’t drag his eyes away from the medical officer. He can’t be dead, he just can’t be. Hansol was supposed to be turned, to live a long, long life. He reaches a hand out towards his crumpled form. Seokmin jerks him away.

“There’s nothing you can do for him,” He hisses, nails digging into Yeosang's arm. 

"But—"

"Don't." Seokmin cuts him off, "Don't talk."

The private drags him away even as tears prick at his eyes, deeper and deeper into the ship. Past rooms Yeosang has never seen with doors thrown ajar. There’s smudges of blood along the floor. Broken lights flicker above them. His breath quickens. 

Seokmin taps the side of a wall and a door slides open. He shoves Yeosang in.

Yeosang stumbles and crashes to the ground. He’s surrounded by brooms, mops, cleaning supplies – a janitor’s closet.

“Stay here.” Seokmin kneels in front of him. His eyes dart between Yeosang and the hall, “They’ll want to ransom the ship. If you can hold out until the military buys it back, you’ll be safe.”

Yeosang stares at him. He doesn’t understand…he doesn’t…his unit…

Seokmin’s hand comes to the back of his neck, over his collar.

His eyes are soft, “I’m sorry, Yeosang.”

He runs out of the room, closing the door behind him. Yeosang is thrown into darkness, there’s no light in the closet. He shakes, breaths coming fast. It feels like only seconds later that he can hear shouts outside the door and the clang of swords. The floor shakes underneath him.

Yeosang’s mind reels. He stares at the door. Indecipherable words mixed with shouts of pain. Clashes and snarls. He curls back. He was never trained to fight. Donors shouldn’t fight. Never raise a hand to a vampire. Never.

The fight moves farther away. Like someone is running away. And then there’s silence.

Yeosang sits, curled up, arms around his legs, staring at the door. He waits. Seokmin will come back for him. He will. The Upyri Republic has the strongest military in the world. They’ll fight off these rogue vampires and Seokmin will come back and get him.

Yeosang can’t tell how fast time is passing, but he doesn’t hear anything for a long time. No one comes to get him.

What if there’s no one left to get you? His mind whispers treacherously.

The ship is still under him.

They can’t all be dead – they just can’t.

Hansol’s lifeless eyes burn in his mind. Hansol was human. He couldn’t be saved by blood and his body was weaker. Yeosang can’t save Seokmin either. He can only hope the other human is safe, hidden away or protected by the unit.

The rest of his unit…are vampires. If they’re injured, Yeosang can help them.

Seokmin didn’t lock him in…he can just leave. He can go. He can save them.

It’s what he’s meant to do.

Yeosang pulls himself up, ignoring how his legs shake underneath him. He pushes the door open, sticking his head out tentatively.

The hallway is slick with blood that hadn’t been there before. The metallic smell assaults his nose, threatening to bring his meager breakfast back up. He brings a hand over his mouth, forcing himself to walk, tracing the blood down the hall.

It disappears into a room. He gently pushes the door open — there!

Junhui is just behind the door, his stomach torn to shreds. His hands uselessly try to stop the bleeding. He whimpers, flinching back from Yeosang.

He’s alive!

Yeosang drops to his knees and desperately pulls him in. Junhui latches on, eyes unseeing. His bite is messy, desperate.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Yeosang murmurs, encouraging Junhui to bite deeper, take more. He can feel his blood start to drain – slow at first and then fast.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Yeosang’s blood runs cold.

Junhui is ripped away from him, teeth tearing into his throat and leaving a messy gash behind. He can barely turn fast enough. Can barely see how many pirates are in front of him before they rip Junhui apart. Yeosang screams, blood splattering across his face.

The leader smiles, all teeth, as he tosses Junhui’s body aside. He crouches in front of Yeosang, hands covered in blood.

“You smell delicious.”

Yeosang’s mind is white with fear. He scrambles backwards—

“None of that,” The vampire grabs him. And his teeth are at Yeosang’s neck before he can even try to pull away.

Venom floods his system, stealing the fight from his limbs. Most military vampires are so young they barely have venom. And the ones that are old enough to have developed venom hold it back, but this vampire is old. Powerful.

His venom pushes a false calm into Yeosang’s mind, fighting against his training. There’s an instinct there, to resist venom intoxication, but…why should he resist? He’ll be dead in minutes. Drained and torn apart like his unit. It would be better…peaceful...to let it in…

The vampire pulls back suddenly and the fog clears. With a jolt of fear, Yeosang realizes that he can tell he hasn’t drained Yeosang. Not even close.

His fingers thumb at Yeosang’s collar. He smirks, “You’re one of those government mutants, aren’t you?”

Yeosang wants to shake his head, he does. He doesn’t want to be taken. No donor has ever been taken before and his handlers were clear. He should die giving his blood to his unit before he’s taken. But he can’t make his head move, can’t make his mouth form words. He can only stare, wide eyed.

Snap!

The collar snaps off like it’s nothing made of nothing stronger than brittle wood. Yeosang’s hand flies to his neck, a choked sob forcing its way out of his throat.

They’re all dead. The whole unit. They’re dead.

The vampire grabs his arm, yanking him up. He’s not injured, he’s not even drained. His legs don’t wobble and his body barely shakes. His heart won’t even race. His unit just died and his heart is beating just as it always did. Slow, steady, calm.

He wants to throw up.

The vampire hands the collar to one of his subordinates, “Nirva, go see if you can find his file. If he’s what I think he is, he’s worth more than anything else on this ship.”

Notes:

hope you...enjoyed? thanks so much for reading and i'll see you with another chapter (and the rest of ateez!) soon :)

Chapter 3

Notes:

hi! once again thank you all so much for your comments 😭 (and i'm sorry to all the seventeen fans out there i hurt 😢 i thought about doing ocs but ended up not doing that) ive been traveling so i haven't had a chance to respond yet but i still wanted to get this chapter out more or less on time!

enjoy!

Year ? of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year ? by the calendar of the Old World

Yeosang fades in and out of consciousness. The floor is cold.

It’s always cold in his cell. The rogue vampires don’t seem to notice. Or care. He thinks back to his winter deployment training at the Compound. It was colder then. In those concrete rooms with their temperature controls set to mimic a frigid winter.

But he wasn’t so exhausted.

Sometimes there are other humans in the cells surrounding his own. They rarely speak and they don’t live very long. They used to toss all the humans in one cell.

Then, one tried to kill Yeosang.

Kill the mutant and you kill the vampire’s food source.

Yeosang is valuable. He is not allowed to die.

Yeosang’s never learned the captain’s name. He’s never learned the name of the ship he’s on or who any of the crew are, but he knows he’s not allowed to die.

The captain comes to get him himself, twice a day. He carries him to a windowless room below deck. Yeosang thinks it might have been a kitchen in a past life and lets his crew feed. Twenty in the morning, twenty at night.

He wasn’t designed to give this much blood. They push him far past his limit and it muddles his mind. But the pirates don’t need him conscious. They don’t need him to walk or talk.

It’s not as bad as it could be, though.

There’s a porthole in his cell. He can see the ocean and a small sliver of sky through it, even from his position on the floor. He’s never gotten to see the sky so much.

In the morning, the water shimmers pink as the sun rises. In the evening, it’s burnt orange. He’s rarely awake in the middle of the day, but when he is, he can see the sun sparkle on the water. It’s a deep blue, endless in its depth.

He watches the sun rise and fall, day in and day out. He’s transfixed when the sea turns dark and gloomy. When waves crash against the ship, threatening to overturn it. And then when the sun returns.

Again and again. He has no way of keeping track of the days. He doesn’t have the strength to mark the floor.

He’s pulled out for his morning feedings. His consciousness slips away when the twelfth vampire brings his teeth to his neck. Another mouths at his wrist. He awakens just in time to see the sun set and then he’s pulled out for his evening feedings. They drain him until his heart barely beats and put him back.

His neck throbs constantly now and he’s awake for only a few hours of each day. There’s a peace in the routine, though. He was made to be drained.

–

Bang!

Yeosang jolts awake. Canon fire. His nerves light up, urging heavy arms and legs to move. The night through his porthole is not dark as it usually is. Instead, the sea is alight with oranges and reds. Fire reflects off the waves. The sea is restless.

The ship rocks precariously and he slides to the edge of the cell. Pain shoots up his shoulder. The bites burn fiercely, fire shooting down his neck and arms.

Explosions go off. Loud and painful, jarring his fatigued sense. It’s louder than when the URS Shadow was attacked. Everything is louder and brighter.

He hears the vampires shout. The clang of metal as swords cross. The bang of cannonfire. Dazedly, he wonders if it’s the military. Maybe they’ve come to weed out the pirates and collect him.

It goes on and on. He drifts on the edge of consciousness. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive giving enough blood to heal the crew’s injuries.

The sky starts to lighten and the dark black of night gives way to a deep blue. Slowly…painfully slowly, the noises stop. And it’s quiet in a way it hasn’t been since he was kept in the URS Shadow’s medical bay.

But he’s not in that ship. There’s red in the morning light shines into his cell. The red of blood in the air. Yeosang does what he always does. He watches it.

Squeak.

There’s the familiar squeak of the brig’s door. He doesn’t turn.

“—really don’t have much.”

“They gambled it all away—”

“I don’t know why Hongjoong bothered.”

“They were killing humans, Wooyoung.”

“Ah, right, right.”

New vampires. His current crew must have lost. Yeosang doesn’t have the energy to roll back over to face them. They’ll find him no matter what. If they’re military, he can hope they’ll give him time to rest before he’s redeployed. If they’re not…well, he hopes they’ll also keep him in a cell with a porthole.

The steps are haphazard, clunking gracelessly as they come down the stairs. Not military. One of them gasps.

“Yunho.” The voice is close now. Only a few feet away.

“Is he—”

“No, not a vampire.”

The door to his cell rattles. They must be trying to pull it open. It won’t work. The captain installed it to keep vampires out long ago. Only the captain is allowed to take him out for feedings.

One of the new vampires curses.

“I’ll go find the key. It must be on the captain.”

There’s a rustle and the clunk of boots going back up the stairs. It’s fast, like the vampire’s running. Yeosang doesn’t know what the rush is. Maybe they think he’ll die. He’s read the blood of the dead is revolting to vampires.

It didn’t seem to bother the pirate crew, though. Even when humans died in the cells, they still drained them.

“Hey.” A soft voice says. It’s much softer than any of the members of Yeosang’s current crew.

“Can…can you turn around?”

Strange. It’s phrased like a question. Yeosang isn’t asked questions. He’s given orders. So he tries to turn. He’s terribly weak and only manages to roll onto his back. Pain shoots up his neck and he can’t hold back a whimper.

“Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean – I didn’t realize it’d hurt,” The new vampire says in a rush, “You just wait right there, Yunho’s gone to get the key.”

Yeosang wants to turn his head towards him, but his vision is flickering. He pants through the pain.

“My name’s Wooyoung.” The vampire adds after a moment, “What’s yours?”

Yeosang attempts to wet his chapped lips. He doesn’t remember the last time he spoke. His throat is painfully dry.

“Y-Yeo…Y-Yeos-sang.” It comes out chipped, jerky.

“Yeosang?”

“M-Mm.” It’s easier to make a sound through pressed lips.

“Hold on, Yeosang, we’re going to get you out of here.”

Another strange thing to say. Like he’s trying to…comfort him.

The door to the brig slams open and feet come barreling down.

“Jongho thinks it’s one of these.” There’s a sound of keys rattling, “Seonghwa’s prepping the med bay—San went with him.”

Med bay?

The key clinks against the lock. He hears them fumble with the lock and then the door swings open. He flinches, body tensing up.

“Still with us, Yeosang?”

A face comes into view. A pretty face. Sharp features. Framed by long black hair. His eyes are narrowed with concern; his hand comes to the juncture of Yeosang’s neck and shoulder.

“Shit, he’s still bleeding.” Wooyoung presses against the bite marks. Yeosang winces.

“Let’s get him out of here.”

Arms hook under his back and legs. The next face that meets his own is soft. Soft cheeks, soft eyes. The vampire’s hair is matted from the fight, but Yeosang thinks it will be soft too, when he’s clean.

“I’m Yunho,” The vampire says, “It’s nice to meet you, Yeosang.”

“Mm.” Yeosang wants to repeat his name back, but he doesn’t have the energy.

Yunho gives him a small smile, “Let’s get you to the medical bay.”

The vampire is gentle as he climbs the stairs. It’s nothing like how the captain of the ship used to carry him to feedings. It’s so gentle Yeosang barely feels a twinge of pain. And then, before he realizes – before he can prepare himself, the sky opens up above him. The sun has risen fully and the sky is bright blue, dotted by a few white clouds.

His throat tightens. The sky is so big.

Yeosang tries to memorize it. The way the clouds move subtly and the exact shade of blue. The sparkling of the ocean is his peripheral vision.

Yunho is slow as he makes his way across the deck and as slow as he carries him across the plank that connects the two ships. But it’s still too soon when he descends down unfamiliar stairs into darkness.

Yeosang can’t help but make a small noise of protest.

“Shh, shh, we’re almost there,” Yunho murmurs.

Right. The medical bay.

Yeosang wonders if it’s to drain him. He could maybe give a few liters, but he’s nowhere near ready to produce any meaningful amount of blood. He needs a few more hours, at least.

The medical bay is a sterile white with fluorescent lights just like the ones he grew up under. But it’s not army. And…and there’s a window. A floor to ceiling window that looks out onto the ocean.

There are two other vampires in front of it, standing at the ready. Their arms are covered in gloves that go up to their elbows.

Yunho deposits Yeosang gently onto an examination table. It’s covered in a cloth, but the metal underneath still chills him.

“I’m going to leave you with San and Seonghwa, now.” He gives Yeosang another smile.

It’s weird. Both Wooyoung and Yunho smiled at him, but in a way that was so different from how the pirates did. And also different from how Seokmin smiled at him.

They’re smiling at him like he’s…normal. A person just like any other.

“They’ll take good care of you.”

He disappears from Yeosang’s view and Yeosang almost…misses him, for some reason. Maybe it was the softness.

“Yeosang, right?” A vampire with mixed blue and black hair leans over him, “I’m San. We’re going to run some vitals and get an IV going.”

They are going to drain him. Fear constricts his throat.

“N-Not…r-read-ready.”

“Hm?” San frowns. He’s holding a needle for the IV, already prepped. “I’m sorry, we can’t wait on this.”

Yeosang does his best to shake his head, “N-Need…a…f-few ho-ours.”

“A few hours?”

“San,” Another voice – Seonghwa? He thinks that’s the other name Yunho gave him – interrupts, “He thinks we’re drawing blood from him.”

Seonghwa leans over him. His hair’s platinum white, pulled back into a bun. He wears a smile just as soft, maybe even softer, than Yunho’s.

“Yeosang, we’re not drawing your blood. We’re going to put an IV in to give you nutrients and help rehydrate you.”

Oh. The Compound had done that, back when they were testing him. He relaxes. There’s a familiar pressure around his arm and then the sting of a needle entering. He squeezes his eyes shut. His body aches.

He thinks he hears Seonghwa try to ask him something, but it’s like he’s underwater. His eyelids are heavy. As the cool of the fluids enter his body, his consciousness slips away.

–

When he wakes he feels better than he has in months – or maybe even years. He has the energy to turn his head side to side. To stretch his fingers, even though they creak in protest. His throat is dry, but not parched. The aching pit of hunger in his stomach is gone.

And he feels clean. His hair is soft on his cheeks rather than greasy and there’s no dirt beneath his fingernails. He’s been dressed in a comfortable black tank top and trousers. There’s still an IV connected to his arm and he shifts slightly to look at it. At the comforting drip of fluids.

“You’re awake!” The voice comes from somewhere above his head. He tries to crane his neck to see who’s talking to him, but he only can make out a tuft of black hair.

“No, no, let me come to you.” The voice comes to lean over him. It’s San, with his dimples and two-toned hair. Half of it is pulled back into two braids today but the black half still falls into his face. “How are you feeling?”

Yeosang wets his lips, “Good.”

“Yeah?” He quirks an eyebrow, “Want to try sitting up?”

Yeosang nods. There’s a thrum of energy under his fingertips urging him to move for the first time in a long time.

“Okay, slowly now – and let me know if you get dizzy.” San presses a button and the table rises so Yeosang’s propped up in a sitting position.

Yeosang rubs the sleep from his eyes. He feels…awake. He looks up to see San watching him. He tilts his head slightly to the side. He’s not sure what San is waiting for.

San chuckles, “Alright, let’s take a look at how you’re healing.”

San reaches for his shoulder and Yeosang is surprised to see a bandage there. It’s true he’d still been bleeding when this group of vampires attacked the ship, but it had been slow. His body is more than capable of healing it.

But San doesn’t seem to know that because, when he removes the bandage, he gasps dramatically, dropping the gauze on the floor. He stares at Yeosang.

Yeosang blinks at him.

“There’s not even a mark?” San mumbles, “I know it’s been awhile, but I’m not that rusty with human anatomy.”

Yeosang raises an eyebrow. Does San not know? Did they not find his file? Did the captain not keep it?

If they didn’t, Yeosang is not going to be the one to tell them. It might be worse when they find out, but a few days of being treated like a normal human might actually give him a chance to fully recover. Even if they want to drink from him, if they drink only what a normal human donor can give, his body will still have a chance to catch up.

And if they want to drain him dry…well, they’ll soon realize he’s not a normal human anyways.

“One…one moment.” San stutters. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s gone and back within seconds, Vampiric speed. Seonghwa and another vampire, one Yeosang has never seen, are right behind him.

The other vampire pushes San to the side. He has the eerie pallor of a vampire, but he’s strangely disheveled with short, messy brown hair and a jagged scar across his cheek. Scars should heal without a mark when a human is turned. Yeosang’s never heard of any vampires retaining injuries from when they were human.

His gaze is sharp as he takes Yeosang in. Gold jewelry drips from his neck; necklaces and rings set with jewels and his ears are covered in piercings. He wears an armband tight around his left bicep.

He must be the captain of this ship.

Yeosang sits up straighter.

“You’re not a vampire.” It is not a question.

“No, sir.” The formality slips through. They don’t look military, but there’s a hierarchy here that feels different than his last pirate ship. Ex-military…Merchants, maybe?

The vampire’s eyebrows raise, “Military?”

“Yes, sir.” There’s no reason to lie.

The captain’s face shutters. It feels like that was the wrong answer – maybe they are pirates. The captain turns back to San.

“Take care of him, but he’s allowed in the common areas only.” His lips curl in disgust, “He was probably in training to be turned. They experiment on their recruits.”

Yeosang forces himself to not react. The military doesn’t experiment on its recruits – at least, not that he knows of. Neither Hansol nor Seokmin had any enhancements before they died. And he…would have known, wouldn’t he? He spent all his time in the med bay.

If there’s one thing he does know, it’s that more enhancements equal more time in the medical bay.

“We’ll drop him off at the next port.” The captain adds.

Yeosang’s eyes go wide. They’re going to drop him…off? Let him go?

San nods, but Seonghwa is watching the captain with narrowed eyes, a frown on his lips. The captain doesn’t acknowledge him, just spins on his heel and leaves the med bay.

Seonghwa stretches an arm out towards him, like he’s trying to catch him, “Hongjoong…”

The captain doesn’t turn back. Seonghwa hesitates, his eyes dart between San and Yeosang.

“I’m sorry, I just…” He doesn’t finish the thought before rushing out the door.

San and Yeosang sit in the silence for a moment, staring at the door Seongwha and Hongjoong just disappeared through.

“Sorry about that,” San shrugs, “They’re a bit strange. That was Hongjoong, our captain, and you met Seonghwa the other day.”

Yeosang nods tentatively.

“Well, are you still feeling alright?” San pulls over a stool. There’s a clipboard in his hands.

“Yes, sir.” Yeosang answers. It’s easy, slipping into this role, answering direct questions.

San chuckles, “None of that. You can just call me San.”

Medical officers seem to prefer being called by their first names. Yeosang turns the word over on his tongue, “Okay…San.”

San rewards him with a bright smile, “Your vitals look good, your wound has healed,”

“I think we can disconnect you from your IVs and get you started on solid foods.” San makes a series of small checks on his clipboard. He checks a number on the machine Yeosang’s hooked up to, writing down his findings, “Do you know how long you were held captive?”

“No, si—San,” Yeosang corrects himself quickly.

“Do you know the year?”

Yeosang shakes his head.

San gives him a strange look. Like he’s sad for him.

“It’s 2708 by Old World terms – 290 by New World terms.”

“Oh.”

A year. A year since he was taken captive. It hasn’t felt that long…but what is a year anyways? Few years of his life stand out.

There’s a gentle squeeze on his arm. Yeosang looks up into San’s kind eyes. San’s…trying to comfort him?

“We’ll help you as much as we can until we get to port.” San says with a small smile, “We’re a week out, but we’ll be able to get you on your way home soon.”

Home.

It’s an interesting concept. Is the military his home? Yeosang supposes so. They created him. He belongs to them.

Subconsciously, he brings a hand to his throat. There’s no collar around his neck. There hasn’t been in awhile. Does he miss it? He’s not sure.

“Let’s get these wires off you.” San murmurs.

San works efficiently, unclipping wires and wrapping them up neatly, wiping away the conductive gel. He wheels away the medical equipment once Yeosang is completely unfettered, with only the catheter left in his arm.

“This’ll pinch a little.” He says as he pulls out the needle. It barely registers to Yeosang, but San gives him a sympathetic wince.

“Well,” San rolls back on his stool, “Since you’re a walking miracle, ready to see if you can take a walk?”

Yeosang stares at him in surprise. He’s…joking. The only people who’ve ever joked with him were the other members of his cohort, before he graduated. After he graduated...well…he’s a medical supply. People don’t joke with medical supplies.

Except other medical supplies, he supposes.

San slaps his thighs, “Come on, you should see the sun. It’s good for humans.”

See the…sun?

Yeosang blinks. San’s going to bring him to...see the sun? Because he’s human? And then it clicks.

They think you’re a vampire trainee.

San thinks he’s human – more than human. He thinks Yeosang’s in training to be just like him.

It doesn’t matter. If San believes that then Yeosang will be able to go outside. Specifically to see the sun, rather than walk from one place to another.

He swings his legs over the side of the medical bed, but he’s too excited and forgets to brace himself.

“Ah! Hold on!” San laughs.

He brings one arm around Yeosang’s waist just as his legs crumple beneath him. He pulls Yeosang’s arm over his shoulders.

“Want to do it like this or do you want me to grab a wheelchair?”

San is cool to the touch – he’s a vampire, after all – but Yeosang doesn’t mind. And it’s silly, inconvenient for him and San, but after a year of laying on the ground…he wants to be upright. To stand and walk on his own.

“Like this.”

“Okay!”

They hobble, one foot at a time out of the med bay and into a well kept hallway. There are no fluorescent lights on this ship. Instead, the lights that line the walls are warm, diffused through geometric covers. Blue light spills from a window at the end of the hall.

There’s only one flight of stairs to the deck and there’s a window in the door. It refracts daylight down the staircase. Shards of white across the well worn wooden steps.

Yeosang hesitates. Something in him fights against going above deck. Just because he wants to, doesn’t mean it’s right. But San pulls him up the final steps, pushing the door open.

His feet drag, legs weak. San redoubles his effort, carrying him out through the shadows to the deck. A great expanse of blue colors Yeosang’s vision.

It’s daytime.

Yeosang’s knees buckle out from under him. San lets him down gently, until he’s sitting on his knees in the warm sun. He kneels next to him but he doesn’t say anything, just seems to enjoy the sun against his skin and the sound of the ocean around them.

“It’s so…bright.”

San turns to him, “It is, isn’t it?”

The sky is a blue expanse that extends in all directions. The amount of light is almost unbearably bright against his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to close them.

This is what he’s wanted – this is all he’s ever wanted.

His cheeks are wet.

He can feel San’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t berate him, he doesn’t scoff. He just lets him sit there, ocean breeze ruffling through his hair.

There are other vampires on this crew – a few pass by as they sit, reviewing something on their datapads or carrying materials. None of them leer at Yeosang, a few even send him small smiles. The ship must be fairly new, automated, for the crew to be so small.

“Want to go see the water?” San asks after the sun has moved from its position overhead. It’s now halfway back towards sinking behind the waves.

Yeosang nods – he doesn’t trust his voice. San helps him back up, guiding him to the edge. Yeosang leans heavily against the metal railing. The waves are far below them, lapping against the edges of the ship.

He finds himself transfixed like he was all those years ago by the swirls of white and blue as the water breaks against the black hull.

Yeosang pulls his gaze to get a good look at the ship. It looks…old. Not like a modern army ship at all. Not even like a merchant vessel. Somewhere between an old-school pirate ship and a luxury cruiser. The sides have a wooden texture to them, but he thinks it’s probably just an aesthetic choice.

“Looking at the ship?” San leans over with him. His hair whips around his face, “Her name’s Hearts Awakened. Hongjoong and Yunho got her for cheap — she’s an old luxury yacht but we’ve updated her to be more dual purpose.”

“Dual purpose?” Yeosang asks.

“For fighting monsters.”

Yeosang thinks there’s a humorous edge to San’s answer, but he has no idea if he’s joking or not. There aren’t really monsters out at sea…are there? Humans used to think so, long, long before the Vampire Revolution but they were wrong. Their monsters were nothing more than whales hidden behind fog, dehydration, and lack of nutrients.

If San’s joking though, it must mean he doesn’t want to tell Yeosang what this ship does. Maybe they’re smugglers? Pirates themselves? If San doesn’t want to tell him, he won’t ask any more questions.

He’ll take the opportunity to watch the waves instead. He doesn’t know how long they’ll let him stay outside.

Unfortunately, his stomach chooses that moment to rumble. Loudly.

San laughs, “Hungry?”

Yeosang cheeks heat up. He is...though he doesn’t know what that means on this ship. Worst case, they don’t feed him and San’s laughing at him. Best case though, he gets something more than stale rations stolen from a human trading vessel.

“Oh good, Wooyoung’s been so excited.” San says cheerfully, “Says that no one appreciates his cooking here anymore.”

Yeosang cocks his head to the side. Vampires don’t need to cook. They just need blood. Preferably, a liter a day, but they can get by on less. The text of his holocrons flashes behind his eyes.

“You’ll understand when we get down there,” San pushes himself back from the edge. He loops an arm around Yeosang’s waist, “He loves an opportunity to feed someone.”

Which is how Yeosang finds himself deposited at a shining wooden table below deck with a very excited Wooyoung across from him. Wooyoung’s face is as sharp as it was before, though he’s dressed down today – in a simple black t-shirt and black jeans. His fingers are covered in silver rings, black polish chipping off his nails, and ornate steel necklaces stand out around his neck.

“You’re ready to eat?” Wooyoung’s eyes are bright.

Yeosang gives a tentative nod and Wooyoung ties his hair up. Pieces of his bangs fall into his face.

“We haven’t had a human on board in a long time.” Wooyoung pulls ingredients out of the fridge. Yeosang’s never learned a thing about food, but it doesn’t look anything like what he’d been fed before.

“I still make food for our coven, of course, but their tastes are boring. Red meats, a few fruits, I can barely even get them to eat soup.” He continues.

“I still like human food though.” He emphasizes it like he’s arguing with someone.

Yeosang stares at him helplessly. Is he supposed to talk? Does Wooyoung expect him to help? Should he offer to help?

San whines next to him, “I eat all the food you make.”

“Yeah, but you don’t enjoy it.” Wooyoung sighs, “Figured I could keep you interested in food for a bit longer, but you’d live off your sire’s blood if you could.”

San turns an interesting shade of red. “H-Hey—”

It breaks through Yeosang’s worrying. He hasn’t heard of any vampires who still drink their sire’s blood past the first year, when it’s necessary. He turns to San, unspoken question on his lips

San winces, “It’s…it’s kinda…complicated…?”

Wooyoung scoffs.

“Wooyoung.”

“Fine, fine, I won’t traumatize him.” Wooyoung comes back to the table.

He’s carrying a dish Yeosang’s never seen before in one hand and a tea kettle in the other. It looks like rice with some charred fish he doesn’t recognize and vegetables on top. Wooyoung places it in front of him and then pours the tea on top of it.

Yeosang looks up at him in surprise.

“Chazuke,” Wooyoung says, “It’s an old Japanese dish. It should be gentle on your stomach. Eat slowly.”

Yeosang takes a bite cautiously. It’s good – not too flavorful. It warms him from the inside out. He hums.

“I do eat some human food,” San mumbles.

“Rare meat and the occasional ice cream don’t count.”

“Why not?”

Wooyoung levels San with a look that's so devastating, Yeosant doesn’t know how San doesn’t flinch back. Yeosang lets their bickering fade into the background, letting all of his focus go to the food.

He lets himself eat slowly; really taking in the textures and tastes of the strange dish. Turning each bite over in his mouth and studying the structure of the vegetables and herbs he’s never seen before. He’s so focused on trying to figure out what a particular sweet orange vegetable is that he doesn’t notice Wooyoung staring intently at him.

“How is it?”

Wooyoung’s gaze is piercing and he nearly chokes.

“I-It’s good,” He clears his throat, “Really good.”

Wooyoung smiles brightly, “I’m glad. I don’t want you eating more than that portion for now but if you’re still hungry, come back in an hour or so – there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“Thank you?” Yeosang’s voice lilts up. He can come back? Will San bring him back? Should he wait for Wooyoung to fetch him himself?

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, “I’ll put it in the fridge. There’s a microwave on the counter – feel free to heat it up, even if I’m not here.”

Yeosang nods...so he doesn’t need to wait for Wooyoung. He must still look confused though because Wooyoung sighs.

“Here.” He goes back to the fridge and rummages inside for a moment before handing Yeosang something wrapped in tinfoil, “It’s a sandwich – simple, it shouldn’t upset your stomach. You can take it with you.”

“Oh,” It’s more a sigh than a real word. Yeosang holds the sandwich close to his chest. He’s never been given food before. Food to eat whenever he wants.

Wooyoung smiles and this time Yeosang knows he’s answered right. He smiles tentatively back.

“Well,” San stands, “What do you want to do? We can go back to the med bay and rest, I can show you around the ship, or we can go back to the deck.”

Yeosang looks up, eyes wide, “We can go back to the deck?”

“Yeah,” San chuckles, “We can hang out up there as long as you want.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Notes:

ahhh i was so excited to post this chapter! ateez! they're here!!

thank you for reading and let me know what you thought! as always you can find me on twitter!

Chapter 4

Notes:

back...early (?) this week? I think alskdjf - my upload schedule is messy for this but generally an upload happens ~around~ the weekend.

As always thank you so much for all of your love, support, and comments! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

(And while I'm here...Legacy? So so so good ilysm yeosang)

Year 290 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2708 by the calendar of the Old World

San lets Yeosang stay on the deck of the ship for the rest of the day – even when the bright blue of the sky makes way for the oranges of sunset and the dark purples of night. Yeosang stares at the constellations, memorizing them in his mind. The Compound didn’t teach much about the stars, but one of his holocrons on modern navigation mentioned people used to use stars to find their way.

Staring at the number of stars in the sky he wonders how.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at them when Seonghwa makes his way above deck. His doctor’s uniform has been switched out for shimmering silk pajamas. He leans over San, resting his chin on his head.

San puts down the holocron he’s been reading and looks up at Seonghwa with a soft grin. He nuzzles his head against his chin.

Seonghwa laughs, “Alright you two, it’s time to rest.”

“Mm,” San leans back into him further, “Carry me.”

“You can walk on your own,” Seonghwa still loops his hands under San’s arms and pulls him up, “Yunho’s waiting for you. I’ll take care of Yeosang.”

He gives him a wink and San’s eyes light up. He makes a move to leave but stops abruptly, turning back to Yeosang first, bright smile still on his face.

“Goodnight, Yeosang – I’ll see you tomorrow!” He quirks an eyebrow at Seonghwa before darting in for a kiss. Seonghwa laughs into his mouth.

“Okay, okay, get going.” He pushes San away, disentangling himself from his arms. The other slaps his ass lightly before disappearing down the stairs.

Yeosang stares at them in shock.

“Ah,” Seonghwa’s face flushes red. Yeosang didn’t know a vampire’s face could do that, “We – well, I – it’s…complicated?”

He peeks at Yeosang like he expects Yeosang to judge him, but Yeosang’s busy rethinking every vampire he’s ever been around. Were any members of his old unit romantically involved? What about the pirate ship? He doesn’t know why he thought vampires didn’t have any romantic relations, it makes sense that they would.

They used to be human after all.

He wonders why Yunho is calling for San then, if he’s in a relationship with Seonghwa. A complicated relationship with Seonghwa.

He’s not sure what that means. None of his holocrons ever covered human – vampire – relationships.

Seonghwa shifts uncomfortably next to him, “Well, should we go inside?”

All worries about vampiric relationships dissolve. Because Yeosang does not want to go inside. Even though his eyelids are heavy and sleep does sound good, he’d rather stay outside. What if they won’t allow him back up tomorrow?

What if they realize that he’s recovered enough to drink from?

“You can come back tomorrow, let’s get some rest now though,” Seonghwa says. He holds a hand out to Yeosang.

It’s an order. Yeosang takes the offered hand immediately.

Seonghwa leads him back down to the second floor of the ship. The air is staler down here, but it’s not bad, Yeosang begrudgingly acknowledges. Doors made of a light wood line each side of the passageway. It’s almost…cozy. With the canvas-covered lights filling the hall with orange light.

Seonghwa walks ahead. His slippers make soft swishing sounds against the matching wood floor.

“You can sleep with me and Wooyoung,” he says, “I’m sorry we don’t have enough rooms for you to have a space of your own.”

Yeosang shakes his head. He’s never roomed with anyone before.

Seonghwa pushes open one of the doors to reveal a relatively large bedroom. It’s nothing like his room at the Compound or the med bay he stayed in on the URS Shadow. The floors are the same polished wood but they’re covered by circular rugs. The room is split into two sides with a large window in the center. Warm light comes from the ceiling, diffused through wooden beams.

There are two beds – each large enough to fit two. One is covered in light grey blankets and plush pillows. A line of photos are bolted to the walls, neatly arranged and leveled. The other bed is draped in worn black quilts and the wall is covered with pictures of people, stuck up haphazardly. Some seem quite old, their edges fraying.

Wooyoung sits on that bed, back against the wall, and a datapad in his hands. His thumbs move furiously. He doesn’t seem to even notice that they’re there.

It must be a…game? Yeosang knows of video games, of course. He’d been taught to never download one onto any datapad – on the few, rare occasions he was given one. They’re frivolous. It’s partially things like video games that are why the Compound prefers holocrons; holocrons hold only the information needed and nothing extra.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes and – at a speed so fast Yeosang can’t see it – yanks an earbud out of Wooyoung’s ear.

“Ow!” Wooyoung exclaims, hand flying to his ear.

“You’re being rude.” Seonghwa crosses his arms.

“Huh?” Wooyoung’s eyes slide to Yeosang. He jumps off the bed, “Oh! Sorry – I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“He’s staying with us for the week.” Seonghwa says, “Hongjoong’s orders.”

Yeosang shivers a little at the mention of the captain but Wooyoung smiles brightly. “Welcome!”

Yeosang gives him an awkward wave. Wooyoung doesn’t seem upset at the prospect of sharing his room. Though Yeosang’s not sure where they’re going to put him. He supposes he could curl up under the window. There was a door for storage near the room’s door – maybe it opens up to a closet with enough room for him to lie down?

“Come help me with the pull out, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa gestures him over.

They go over to the bed with the light sheets – Seonghwa’s bed? – and Yeosang notices a handle in between the top of the bed and the floor. Together, they yank at it and pull it back.

It’s another bed. With crisp white sheets.

“It’s not too big,” Seonghwa turns to Yeosang apologetically, “But it should be pretty comfy – ah, let me get you some pajamas.”

Yeosang holds back his surprise. The clothes they’d put him in while he was unconscious are already very comfortable. He could easily sleep in them. But Seonghwa pulls something silky out of a dresser Yeosang hadn’t even seen and pushes them into Yeosang’s arms.

“Go on,” Seonghwa nudges him, “The bathroom door’s right by the entrance.”

The door Yeosang had thought led to storage was actually the bathroom. He hurries inside, pulling the door shut behind him. As he turns back, the clothes slip out of his hands.

There’s a mirror.

The face that stares at him is almost unrecognizable. He hasn’t seen himself since he was at the Compound, but he hadn’t thought he’d change this much. The baby fat of his early teenage years is long gone. The light coming from around the mirror is soft, bathing his skin gold, but it can’t hide how gaunt his cheeks are or the unnaturally sharp edge of his jaw.

The shirt he’d woken up in fits well enough, but his hands trace the edges of his collarbones. Sharp with large divots.

His hair’s the same, though it’s a lot longer than he remembers. Curly and a deep red, it goes just past his shoulders. It must’ve grown in his time aboard the pirate’s ship. He runs a hand through it. It feels dry against his fingers but as strong as ever.

There’s little to show he spent the last year in a cell. The bruises and cuts and bites are long gone. Even the messiest bite – the one at the juncture of his neck that they never let heal is gone. Not even a tiny mark left.

He should be happy none of the marks scarred. That his skin is as unblemished as the day he was born. But…but…

No.

Seonghwa told him to get dressed. He latches on to the order. He has to follow orders. Orders make sense. He pulls off the t-shirt and pants. Switching out the blue cotton for the silver satin of Seonghwa’s sleep clothes. The fabric is cool against his skin.

Skin that should be burning.

–

Yeosang wakes up facing Seonghwa. The vampire is still asleep; his face is peaceful, white hair sprawled across the silver silk pillow. Yeosang wonders how old he is. It’s impossible to tell with vampires, but he thinks he can see some faint smile lines around Seonghwa’s mouth. Some small creases in the corners of his eyes.

He wants to reach out and touch them. They’re…fascinating. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have any.

At least, not yet. His aging has been slowed but he will age, eventually. At least, he thinks he will.

He hopes he gets smile lines.

Early morning light grows across Seonghwa’s face. Yeosang turns over to follow the light out the window. But as he repositions himself, he catches sight of Wooyoung.

Wooyoung is staring at him.

Yeosang drops his eyes to the floor, to the dark grey rugs. He keeps them there, tracing the knit pattern until he reaches the edge. He glances tentatively back up at Wooyoung. Who’s still staring at him.

His eyes are back to the floor in an instant. His breath stutters in his chest. Maybe Wooyoung’s trying to see if he’s healthy enough to drink from? Some older vampires can tell if a human’s healthy just based on their smell…

“Ah, I scared you, sorry,” Wooyoung’s voice is quiet.

Yeosang dares to look up at him once again. When their eyes meet, he smiles. They stay there for a moment. Wooyoung’s eyes are dark, they match his hair – and his pajamas, and his bed, and his nails. Wooyoung’s smile deepens and he pushes himself up with a stretch, breaking their eye contact.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Wooyoung says, “With pancakes for breakfast.”

Pancakes? Yeosang tries to break the word down…cakes made on pans? He’s never had cakes before, or any type of sweet, but Wooyoung doesn’t give him much time to ponder how cakes would make sense for breakfast.

He, instead, yanks Yeosang up and out of the bed. Their feet are bare as they pad down the hallway. Wooyoung’s cold hand doesn’t leave Yeosang’s, their fingers intertwined. It’s kind of…nice.

Though he still imagines Wooyoung will want to drink from him. But, would it be that bad? Wooyoung feeds him, he feeds Wooyoung.

Wooyoung doesn’t leave him at the table this time. This time, he brings him back behind the counter to the kitchen. The appliances are all new, shining with care. There’s a bowl of fruit and a loaf of fresh bread on the counter – both covered with domed preservers so they keep for longer.

“I loved pancakes when I was human,” He says as he pulls a couple of bowls from the cabinet. They clang against the counter as he spins to grab what Yeosang thinks is a bag of flour from the cupboard.

He feels like he needs to say something – to at least figure out what they’re making.

“I’ve never had pancakes.”

There’s white powder in the air, the bag of flour spilled out on the floor. Wooyoung stares at Yeosang in shock.

“Never?”

Yeosang bites his lip. It must be weird. Most normal humans must have pancakes often.

“Wow,” Wooyoung says when he doesn’t answer, “Your parents must have been really into healthy foods.”

“Mhm,” Yeosang kneels down to pick up the flour. Not too much has spilled, thankfully.

He can feel Wooyoung’s eyes on him, but he keeps his own gaze on the ground. He holds the bag out as a peace offering.

“Well, I make really good pancakes,” Wooyoung takes it happily, “Any fruit preferences?”

Yeosang thinks for a minute. He risks a glance at Wooyoung. He’s definitely really asking.

“...Anything but prunes?”

Wooyoung looks at him like he’s insane.

“I would never put prunes in pancakes.” He sounds offended, “I have some preserved strawberries – I’ll use those. Seonghwa might even give it a try if there are strawberries.”

Yeosang nods. His cheeks are hot.

He doesn’t say anything as Wooyoung mixes the batter, prepares the skillet, and starts to carefully spoon out each pancake. He’s curious, though. Wooyoung is very…determined to eat human food – and to have the other members of the crew eat human food as well.

Would Wooyoung mind if he asked?

Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not act unless instructed.

As a donor, he shouldn’t ask. He knows that, but Wooyoung doesn’t know he’s a donor. He thinks he’s in training to turn. Unless Wooyoung is over three hundred years old, Wooyoung was turned by the military. He probably fought in a unit just like Yeosang’s.

To Wooyoung, he and Yeosang are almost…equals. Will be equals, one day.

It feels wrong. Yeosang’s stomach twists in on itself – he can’t bring himself to fake it in such an obvious way. To break Wooyoung’s trust like that.

Not when his crew has given Yeosang so much time on deck, under the sun. Not when they’ve dressed him in silks and kept him in a warm bed. And not when Wooyoung himself is carefully watching over a batch of pancakes that only Yeosang will really be able to enjoy.

“Ready!” Wooyoung’s voice breaks through his thoughts. He shoves a bright blue plate piled with what must be pancakes into Yeosang’s hands.

They’re ovals, a golden brown on each side with white edges. Yeosang can see the red of the strawberries peaking through. They smell amazing.

“Take them over to the table, I’ll be there in a second with the toppings.” Wooyoung ushers him away, “Don’t try them till I get over there though!”

Yeosang nods fervently. He holds the plate close, walking slowly into the dining room. He doesn’t want the stack to fall.

He’s only just placed his plate on the table when Wooyoung appears behind him with a heavily laden tray.

“Okay – butter, strawberry compote, whipped cream, and syrup,” He places the small bowls around Yeosang, “Hongjoong thought I was being silly storing so much human food – shows what he knows.”

Yeosang winces. Saying bad things about your captain is never a wise move – but maybe Hongjoong was more like Sergeant Boo. Aloof on the outside, but loved by his crew.

He thinks about Hongjoong’s eyes. Sharp, unforgiving.

He doesn’t think Hongjoong’s like Sergeant Boo.

“Okay so first, the butter, then the strawberries on top once it melts – yes like that.” Wooyoung seems unaware of his internal struggle and he lists the exact way to add the toppings. He watches closely until Yeosang starts following his instructions. “Then some syrup and finish it off with a spoon of whipped cream – be careful! Don’t let it deflate.”

Yeosang very carefully dollops the whipped cream on top.

“Perfect!” Wooyoung sits down next to him. He pulls a plate holding a small pancake towards him and pops a pill in his mouth.

“It’s for digestion,” He clarifies at Yeosang’s unspoken question, “Vampire stomach, you know.”

Yeosang doesn’t really know, but he nods. Wooyoung seems happy – excited – as he piles the toppings onto his pancake. Tentatively, Yeosang takes his first bite.

It’s good. It’s sweet and fluffy. The strawberries are tart and the whipped cream is airy against the roof of his mouth. He tries to go slowly. To savor every bite. But it’s hard – it feels like his fork is halfway to his mouth with more before he can swallow. He can’t imagine when he’ll have a chance to eat something like this again.

He hums happily. Bite after bite, the pancakes taste just as good. But as the food on his plate gets smaller and smaller, his stomach knots in apprehension. He feels…strong, well fed. Definitely healthy enough to drink from. He almost wishes that they kept him in the medical bay, and were draining him on schedule. It’s easier to give blood in a sterile field through a tube.

But it’s time. Wooyoung has sat patiently – happily, it seems – watching him eat until his plate was cleared. He long since finished his own plate.

“If…If you want…” Yeosang can’t bring himself to say it.

Wooyoung cocks his head to the side, “Want?”

Yeosang wavers. It’ll hurt so much more if it’s forced or if they take him by surprise. And this is what he was made for. He was made to feed them. Tongue like lead, he gestures to his neck, tilting his head sideways.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, “Oh, Yeosang…no.”

Yeosang dares to look at him. Wooyoung looks…upset?

“We don’t need to drink from you. We have rations.” Wooyoung says firmly, “You’re healing – and even if you weren’t, we don’t drink directly from humans.”

Yeosang’s confused by that. It’s only the military that has regulations against their soldiers drinking directly from humans. Most vampires aren’t opposed to it. Most prefer it. It was in his holocrons, spelled out in clear letters.

And he’s seen plenty of vampires pull humans into alleys. Fresh blood tastes the best.

“We’re not—” Wooyoung starts.

“Is that pancakes I smell?” It’s Seonghwa, his voice groggy.

Yeosang gasps.

He’s dressed far more extravagantly than yesterday. Pajamas replaced by an overly large black blouse secured by a burgundy corset around his waist. Billowy black trousers are tucked into matching tall leather boots. A simple silver necklace lays delicately against his chest.

Seonghwa drops down into a chair. Yeosang tries very hard not to stare at him. He’s beautiful.

“Strawberry pancakes,” Wooyoung says. His eyes linger on Yeosang before he turns to Seonghwa. His smile feels…fake. “Want some?”

Seonghwa quirks an eyebrow, “I’ll have one.”

“Really?” Wooyoung perks up, “Oh, excellent, I’ll get you a digestive and your morning blood.”

Wooyoung bustles back into the kitchen. There’s some clanging and the clink of glass against glass.

“Feeling okay, Yeosang?”

Unfortunately, Yeosang looks up into Seonghwa’s eyes and almost chokes. They’re lined with kohl, purple eyeshadow blended out professionally. His lips are a deep red.

“Y-Yes,” Yeosang’s mind is a stuttering mess, but he forces himself to answer. What is wrong with him?

“I’m glad,” Seonghwa smiles. There’s an air of humor in it. Like he knows why Yeosang’s stuttering.

His eyes trace over Yeosang. Yeosang flushes. He must look a mess in comparison – his frizzy bedhead, his crumpled pajamas, his bare feet. Seonghwa’s smile falters as he leans back to follow Yeosang’s gaze to his feet.

“Wooyoung! You didn’t get him shoes?” Seonghwa asks, aghast.

Yeosang flinches, curling his toes in.

“Huh?” Wooyoung’s back in a flash. He’s carrying a plate and a black, sealed bottle in his hands. He drops them on the table.

“Look how pink his toes are!”

Wooyoung ducks down. Yeosang’s cheeks heat. It’s a lot of attention on his feet.

“Ah, sorry!” Wooyoung says, “I completely forgot – I’ll go get some – don’t move!”

“It’s okay – really!” Yeosang shouts after him.

It really isn’t that bad. He’s been warmer on this ship than he has been for the past year. And the pajamas are soft against his skin. Far softer than anything he’s ever worn before. He could handle some cold feet.

“Remembers how to make pancakes, but doesn’t remember humans get cold.” Seonghwa sighs.

He pulls the plate towards him, popping a digestive pill into his mouth and washing it down with a swig from the bottle. Blood, probably. He follows it up with a strawberry covered in whipped cream. He hums.

It’s a surreal experience for Yeosang. The vampire in front of him looks like he’s right out of stories of old, but he’s delicately eating a pancake like it’s a perfectly normal thing for him to do.

“I’m older than him, you know,” Seonghwa complains, taking another drink from the bottle, “By over one hundred years! And yet, I still remember more than him.”

“Yes, we know, you’re ancient,” Wooyoung appears in a blur next to Seonghwa. He’s carrying fluffy slippers with rubber soles. “Here you go.”

He places them on the floor and stares at Yeosang, hands on his hips, until he slips his feet inside. Soft. He wiggles his toes.

“Cute.” Wooyoung laughs. He drops back into his seat.

It’s easy after that. Wooyoung and Seonghwa fall into a natural conversation, Seonghwa slowly making his way through his pancake (though he eats nearly eleven strawberries). Most of their conversation goes over Yeosang’s head.

It seems, though, that Wooyoung needs a member of their crew named Jongho to prepare their stores for the next port and that Wooyoung really doesn’t really want to. Apparently he’s allowed to complain because Seonghwa just rolls his eyes, but even Yeosang can see the smile behind them.

It reminds him a bit of how Seokmin and Hansol used to tease each other.

Hansol’s face flashes in front of his eyes, devoid of life and blood splattered. It’s so real for a moment that he believes he can save him. That he’s right in front of him, not yet dead. He wants to reach for him – he can save him—

“Well, Yeosang,” Seonghwa’s voice jolts through his mind. “Let’s get you changed and you can go about your day.”

“O-Okay.” Yeosang stutters.

Seonghwa looks at him. His eyes are piercing. “Are you okay?”

He never could have saved Hansol. Hansol was human. Fragile.

“Yes.” He answers Seonghwa dutifully, pushing himself up from the table. The food shifts inside him uncomfortably, sugar heavy in his stomach.

It doesn’t look like Seonghwa believes him. But he doesn’t push. He just gives him a small smile and ushers him out of the dining hall and back to the room.

The beds have been made up neatly and there’s a small pile of folded clothes on his sheets.

“Here,” Seonghwa picks up the stack, “San brought over some things that might fit you – you’re about his size.”

Yeosang takes them.

“He brought over a coat too but it’s a bit…much,” Seonghwa says with a wink. He gestures to a long leather trench coat draped over the end of the bed. “You’re welcome to it, but also feel free to pick from any of my cardigans.”

Yeosang runs a hand over the leather. It’s soft from years of wear and the grey – or maybe it was black originally? – color was faded, bleached in spots from decades in the sun.

“I’ll leave you to get changed, meet me in the hall when you’re ready.”

Yeosang delicately unbuttons the pajama set and folds them neatly on his bed. San’s clothes are black — the shirt made of a comfortable linen fabric that drapes lightly over his skin. It’s far too big on his emaciated form. The pants are too, and he has to cinch the waistband tight.

He regrettably switches out his slippers for boots. The leather of these is worn too, and comfortable. The clothes are…different than any he’s ever worn before.

He likes the way they feel.

The coat on the other hand swallows him whole and weighs him down. It’s claustrophobic and he shucks it off immediately. Seonghwa’s closet is packed full but he finds the cardigans easier. His hand catches on one — it’s deep red, fuzzy, and soft against his hands. He pulls it on and has to resist the urge to nuzzle into it. It’s warm.

His hand is on the door handle when he catches sight of himself in the mirror.

The sweater is…loud, bright. He takes it off. But it’s cold without it. Hesitantly, he pulls it back on. It’s far more colorful than anything else he’s been offered but still, he likes the cardigan.

Seonghwa told him to put on a cardigan. It wasn’t an exact order, but it was close enough. Mind made up, he pulls the sweater tightly around him and peeks out into the hall.

Seonghwa is still waiting for him when he finally opens the door, the vampire scrolling through his datapad absently.

“Oh!” Seonghwa looks up. He smiles as he takes Yeosang in, “Great choice. Matches that red hair of yours perfectly.”

Yeosang relaxes. He approves.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seonghwa says. He snaps the datapad closed, “I want to give you a quick check up then the rest of the day is yours.”

Yeosang holds back a wince. If he draws his blood…

But he can’t protest. Any reasonable doctor wouldn’t let a human they found in a vampire’s cell go after just one day. He’s lucky they let him outside yesterday.

He tries not to drag his feet as Seonghwa directs him down the hall to the medical bay. It’s really not that bad of a medical bay. The window alone makes it the best one he’s ever seen. It doesn’t have the brush of the sea air against his skin though, nor the smell of salt.

The examination table is set up so he can sit on it. His breath catches in his throat. They’re going to know he lied.

Donors are not allowed to lie.

The panels of the window double, his vision blurs as his breath quickens. What will they do to a donor who lied?

“Hey,” There’s a gentle hand on his arm, “This won’t hurt, I promise.”

It’s not what Yeosang’s worried about but he tries to focus on the hand anyways. On the pressure. His vision slowly clears.

Seonghwa smiles down at him, “There we go.”

“I’ll only do one scan and then you’ll be on your way,” Seonghwa holds up a strange metal contraption, “I don’t need to draw any of your blood.”

He knows, somehow, what Yeosang was afraid of. Still…the scan…he’s never seen anything like it before. He doesn’t know what it will see – or what parts of him might be different than that of an ordinary human.

“Okay, here we go.” Seonghwa taps the contraption and it gives an affirmative beep before flying out of his hands. It extends into an oblong shape, wider than Yeosang’s body. It emits a strange blue light blue light.

It hovers in front of Yeosang’s head, only a few inches away, before systematically sliding down his body. There’s a small light on the top of it that pulses green.

It spends a little longer at Yeosang’s chest than anywhere else, but only a few minutes pass before it flies back into Seonghwa’s arms. It projects a screen – but whatever it found, it’s only showing to Seonghwa. Yeosang can only see a sheet of blue pixels.

Seonghwa slides through the findings, eyes flicking back and forth. There’s a furrow between his brows. His eyes stop for a moment, finger hovering.

He looks over at Yeosang. His expression is unreadable. Yeosang stares back, eyes wide.

Please, please, please.

Seonghwa looks back at the screen. He taps something – notes? – into it purposefully and then it minimizes.

“A bit of malnutrition, but you’re in perfect health otherwise,” Seonghwa says. There’s something off in his eyes, “I’ve forwarded your deficiencies to Wooyoung. He’ll be glad for an excuse to stay in the kitchen all day. You’re free to go whenever you’re ready.”

Seonghwa turns away. He’s just at the door when he looks back, “The experiments must be working. Your commander should be happy with the results.”

It’s a little stilted. Yeosang breathes out though. Seonghwa doesn’t seem happy with his findings, but he hasn’t determined Yeosang to be a donor.

He gives Yeosang one last knowing look and then he just…leaves. He leaves Yeosang there in the chair with no supervision and no direction. Yeosang stares at the door.

He’s allowed to just…leave?

Of course he’s allowed to leave. He’s a future vampire. He swings his legs off the chair – he should at least leave the medical bay. Seonghwa works in here and he’d just be in the way.

Once he’s out in the hall though, he doesn’t know what to do. At the Compound, he’d be sequestered away in his room. On the URS Shadow, he’d be in his cot in the medical bay. On the pirate ship, he’d be in his cell.

Here though, there was no obvious place to be. The room was shared; if he went back there he might get in Wooyoung or Seonghwa’s way.

It’s good for humans to see the sun.

Maybe…maybe, he could go back to the deck? If anyone asked him, he could say he was just listening to San. Just focusing on his recovery. They’re very focused on his recovery, they’d like that answer.

His feet take him to the stairs. Light wood with a gold railing leading up to the bright sky.

He rocks a little back and forth. It’s strange. He’s never been left to his own devices. His mind urges him to go back to Seonghwa. To confess he’s a donor and offer to feed them. It’s what he should do…and he owes them. He does. For the clothes, for the pancakes, for his time on deck.

But Seonghwa disappeared. He didn’t tell Yeosang where he’d be going or what he’d be doing.

Yeosang takes one step up the stairs. The sense of wrongness doesn’t dissipate, but he takes another. And then another. He clasps the rail like it’ll fall away from under him.

And then the cool air is brushing against his face. It’s fresh, salty.

The deck is empty, weather treated wood shining in the morning sun. It’s not eerie though. It’s more like the mornings back at camp when Yeosang would wake up to the birds chirping and the sunlight just starting to light up the tent. Before Hansol brought his breakfast and the camp came to life.

He takes a deep breath. It’s just him. Him and the everpresent sound of the ocean waves.

Yeosang takes a look around, wandering into the center of the deck. There are three large, white masts but there are no sails on them, only a black flag atop the tallest one. It’s hard to tell but Yeosang thinks he sees an hourglass symbol on it.

The main deck is large, leaving only a small section at the back for a raised quarter deck. There’s no one at the helm, but it looks strangely old fashioned. Like something out of Yeosang’s history holocrons.

He takes a nervous glance around the deck. Still no one.

Quickly, he takes the short staircase up to the quarterdeck. Now that he’s closer, he’s sure the wheel was specially designed to look like those of the early humans. Made of wood with six spokes, it’s well oiled and shines in the light.

But, unlike the wheels of a millennium past, it shifts on its own. Slightly to the right, slightly to the left. The ship moves with it; the movement barely noticeable. A modern system, with a course in mind and good weather, most any ship can steer itself. Usually the wheel doesn’t move though, the automatic systems operating independently of a captain’s wheel.

Yeosang watches it in fascination. His eyes catch on a raised line of darker wood. He follows it down to the deck and towards the back of the ship. Is the steering mechanism so obvious on the outside?

He leans over—

But it’s not the rudder that catches his attention.

Halfway down the stern, ornate carvings line reinforced windows and grow from the back of the ship to the sides. Depictions of coral line the glass and mermaids swim along the edges, surrounded by swooping waves. The carvings are worn from the elements but clearly maintained.

It’s…beautiful.

It’s also old fashioned – even with many vampires being hundreds of years old, most of those remaining in the New World prefer sleek, militaristic aesthetics. It’s only ships of the Old World that used to—

“You’re Yeosang, right?”

Yeosang jumps and spins around.

There’s a vampire to his right, leaning against the edge. He’s tall – maybe three or four inches taller than him – and dressed in comfortable linens. It’s simple clothing but his hands are covered in precious stones and an ornate necklace hangs from his neck. He’s also done his makeup – smoky black around his eyes and a faded burgundy lipstick. Black hair blows in the wind.

He chuckles, “Sorry to scare you.”

His voice is deep, sending shivers down Yeosang’s spine. He inclines his head.

“I’m Mingi, navigator of Hearts Awakened.” He holds out a hand. There’s a melodic jingle as his bracelets move.

Yeosang takes his hand. Mingi doesn’t squeeze too hard and he smiles warmly.

“Nice to meet you.”

Yeosang nods tentatively. Mingi doesn't say anything else though, just goes back to leaning against the railing.

Should he leave? Stay? Yeosang wasn’t given permission to come up here…but now that he’s here, he also hasn’t been given permission to leave.

It’s worse to leave if Mingi wants him for something, so he stays still. He can feel Mingi’s eyes on him but the other lets the silence grow until Yeosang starts fidgeting.

“So, liking the ship?” Mingi asks, finally.

“Yes.” Yeosang peeks back over the railing before quickly looking back up at Mingi. The polite thing to do. “It’s very…pretty.”

“Pretty?” Mingi raises an eyebrow, “I suppose you could say that.”

Yeosang holds back his confusion. The ship – with its carvings and modern rooms and polished wood – really is pretty. But Mingi just chuckles with a shake of his head and pushes himself off the railing. He flips open what Yeosang thinks is a compass. It’s fascinating – a unique combination of metal and holographs spinning in the air.

He has no idea what any of the symbols mean.

Mingi notices him looking, “Want to try steering her?”

Yeosang jolts.

“You were in training, weren’t you?” Mingi asks, “It’s open water, you won’t hit anything. Not even so much as a whale on the scanner.”

He gestures at his compass…scanner?

Yeosang winces, “I wasn’t in training to be a pilot.”

“Oh?” Mingi raises an eyebrow, “You don’t learn a bit of everything?”

Lying goes against everything he was born to be and he can’t...he just can’t.

“Jongho must’ve been in a special unit,” Mingi shrugs. He doesn’t seem bothered, “Come here, I’ll show you.”

Jongho.

He’s heard the name a few times. Jongho must be a younger vampire. More in tune with the current military system. Yeosang files the name away. Jongho will almost certainly see through any ruse.

Mingi grabs his arm before he can worry further.

“Here.”

His hands meet warm wood. He looks up at Mingi wide-eyed.

Mingi laughs, “Don’t worry, I won’t let you wreck the ship. Try turning it left.”

Yeosang moves it very slightly and looks back at Mingi.

“More than that,” Mingi’s smile is wide.

Yeosang pulls it more to the left, a bit more decisively.

“Try this.” Mingi’s hand covers Yeosang’s and yanks.

Yeosang yelps as the ship careens violently to the side. It tilts so much Yeosang thinks for a hysterical moment that it’s about to flip before Mingi spins the wheel to right it.

“There we go—”

“Mingi!” It’s Yunho. He’s holding onto the railing for dear life. “What are you doing?”

Yeosang’s still gasping, knuckles white against the wheel, but Mingi flushes.

“Ah, I was…teaching him?”

“Teaching him what?” Yunho asks, “How to drown us?”

He’s not teasing, irritation drips from his words. Yeosang drops the wheel immediately and backs up, head down. Subservient.

“Yunho—” Mingi’s voice has a hint of warning but Yunho cuts him off.

“Are we still on track to be at Nocorane on Wednesday?” There’s an accusation in his tone. “The log hasn’t been updated.”

Yeosang chances a glance up. Yunho’s face is cast in shadow.

“Ah, yes,” Mingi’s hands are nervous on the helm, running up and down the spokes, “Apologies. I’ll update it soon.”

“Thank you,” Yunho says, jaw set. His eyes slide to Yeosang. Yeosang drops his eyes back to the deck.

“Yunho…”

Yunho spins around and disappears down the stairs. Yeosang watches him walk all the way across the deck to the head of the ship. There are a few people on the deck now. Yeosang thinks he sees them try to call out to Yunho but he ignores all of them. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the head of the ship, as far away from the wheel as he can get.

Guilty, Yeosang looks back at Mingi. It was because Mingi was teaching him how to steer that Yunho was mad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Mingi says. His voice is far quieter than it was before, the easy joy gone, “We have a history. He’d have found some reason to be upset.”

Mingi takes a deep breath, “You know, Jongho’s working on patching up the sails today. If you’ve got any experience with a needle, I bet he’d love the help.”

Yeosang knows a dismissal when he hears one and he ducks his head in a nod of affirmation. He looks back, though, as he leaves. Mingi is slouched over the wheel, glassy eyes staring at his scanner. Yeosang bites his lip. He can’t comfort him – he wouldn’t even know how.

The morning peace is gone from the ship, replaced instead by the swish of a robotic mop and the clang of metal. San waves from where he’s oiling canons. Yeosang gives a small wave back.

The captain – Hongjoong – is sitting with Yunho at the forward deck, his face covered in shadow.

Yeosang stops. Sails, where are the sails?

There, on the starboard side, he catches sight of a vampire he hasn’t met yet, hidden in the shadow of the quarterdeck. His short, brown hair is gelled back except for a few strands that keep falling in front of his eyes. He’s in all black – a modern button down shirt over canvas pants. Simple, effective at keeping the sun off his skin, though his feet are strangely bare. He weaves a needle through a pile of fabric in front of him.

This must be Jongho. Fresh out of the military.

Yeosang takes a deep breath. He knows the military, he’s been trained in their structure. He won’t have to lie, he just can’t say anything too suspicious.

Mustering as much courage as he can, he walks up to him, “Hello.”

It’s not loud, barely a whisper and Jongho doesn’t notice him. Yeosang steps a little closer to try again but before he can get a word out, his shadow falls over the vampire. Jongho peers up at him.

“Oh, hello.” Jongho smiles, “It’s Yeosang, isn’t it?”

He seems very casual for a recently graduated private but Yeosang nods, “Mingi said you might need help?”

“Any good with a needle?”

Yeosang nods again, “I know how to give stitches?”

“Perfect, here, sit down.” Jongho pats the space next to him and Yeosang obediently drops down.

“I’m just adding a patch here – if you want to take over, I’ll work on another tear.”

He takes the offered needle and weaves it in and out a few times, looking up at Jongho for approval.

“Looks good.” The vampire nods and gets up, grabbing another needle and pulling a different sail from the pile.

The hole in the sail is small, only the size of his hand, but still large enough to require a patch. The sails are a midnight black – pirate colors. Maybe these vampires are pirates too? They haven’t seemed interested in pillaging any ships since he arrived, but they did attack the last ship he was on.

Maybe they only targeted other pirates? He hopes they do. They seem too kind to target civilians.

Naive. The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like Yeonjun. With his sharp words and sharper eyes.

The shadow moves as they sew, until the sun is warm against Yeosang’s hands and the crown of his head. Almost too warm.

He likes it still, he thinks stubbornly, even as sweat beads on his skin.

“It was pretty rough, huh?” Jongho breaks the silence. Yeosang looks at him, confused, and he raises an eyebrow, “Being aboard Hyungki’s ship?”

Yeosang thinks back to the constant ebb and flow of the waves. The gentle rock of the boat, the colors reflecting against the ceiling of his cell. He really loved his porthole.

Yeosang shrugs, “It wasn’t too bad.”

Jongho puts down his needle and turns towards him fully. “What?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Yeosang winces. Right. A human selected by the military board to be turned would have had a good life. One that allowed them a chance to prove themselves.

Yeosang’s had a good life, a privileged life, he knows it. A year in the cell should have been bad for him too. His handler would be livid to hear that he preferred a cell with a porthole, taken by pirates, over helping keep units alive in the field.

Preferred?

“Yeosang?”

He flinches, “It kind of blurred together.”

It must be a better answer because Jongho relaxes.

“Blood loss will do that to you.” He says, an air of humor in his voice, “It’s amazing you lived. How long were you there?”

Yeosang forces his mind back to those early days. How long did the ordinary humans survive? One sunset…two…five…six…

“A month,” Yeosang chooses. Longer than any of the humans, but far from the truth. It’s a small lie, a necessary one, “I think.”

Jongho whistles, “You really must be enhanced, to last that long.”

Yeosang hums noncommittally.

“I’ve been out of the service for the past forty years, but I’d’ve thought I would have heard about that program before I left.”

Yeosang fingers shake but he keeps his face blank.

“I was told it’s new…branched off from the optimized donor's work.” He wraps his lie in a truth. It’s the only way he can stomach it. “I was in one of the first cohorts.”

Strangely, Jongho winces, “Right, the optimized donors project...”

It seems like he wants to say more, but he keeps his mouth shut and goes back to working on the sail. He doesn’t say anything more, but there’s a new aggression in how he pushes the needle in and out of the fabric.

Yeosang doesn’t question him. He’s more than happy to let the military talk die down. He keeps his own stitches measured, even, and slow, hoping to extend the peace. And it works, for awhile, until—

“Yeosang!”

San runs up to them, arms laden with swords, and a wide grin on his face.

“Ah, helping out our Jongho.” San smiles, “Mind if I steal him, Jongho?”

Jongho waves him off, “Feel free. We’ve made our guest work enough.”

“Wonderful,” San says, “Come on, Yeosang, I need to get some sparring practice in – should be fun!”

Yeosang blanches. Sword practice. Something every private — or future private — is well versed in.

Something donors are deliberately not trained in.

He holds up his patch, “I’m not quite done—”

“Go on,” Jongho nudges him up, pulling the needle from his hands, “I can tie up your patch. Don’t worry, San knows you’re still human – he won’t beat you up.”

Jongho gives him a wink and Yeosang pouts. That’s his excuse gone.

Hands loop under his arms, pulling him up. His stomach swoops oddly as he careens into San.

“Let’s go!” A hand wraps in his own, pulling him to the forward deck.

Yeosang is almost too busy marveling at how well his hand fits in San’s to realize that Yunho and Hongjoong are gone. The deck is blessedly empty. Which is good – both because Yunho’s probably still angry at him and he’s pretty sure his cheeks match his hair.

San lets go of his hand, tossing him a wooden longsword. Which, by some miracle, he catches. The balance feels unwieldy, handle unnatural.

San, on the other hand, swings the sword like he’s been using it since birth, a playful grin on his face just before he lunges. Yeosang barely gets the sword up in time. The blow’s harder than he anticipates and he drops to his knees.

Donors don’t fight back.

San drops the sword to his side immediately.

“Yeosang?”

Yeosang breathes heavily and wracks his brain for an excuse — any excuse.

“I-I,” Yeosang tries. His handler’s angry face hovers just over his vision. He pushes it away, “I was in training to be a medic.”

“They train some recruits to only be medics?” San asks. His face is open. Trusting.

“Mm,” Yeosang lies. It’s a bad lie. San must be old – very old, turned before the Vampire Revolution – to have no idea how military training works, “I’ll learn in my final training stage but…”

“Oh, cool! I can teach you, if you want?” San asks, “Give you a bit of a head start?”

Yeosang hopes his shock doesn’t show. San…bought that? Guilt twists in his mind. He shouldn’t lie. He definitely shouldn’t lie to a vampire. But he wants to stay above deck, he wants to keep eating Wooyoung’s food, and being dressed in soft, well-loved clothes.

His eyes catch on the training sword. He shouldn’t want to pick it up. He shouldn’t want to fight. When will he ever be fighting?

Donors don’t fight back.

His fingers twitch. Itching to grab the hilt.

Donors don’t fight back.

His unit’s faces flash in front of his mind, blood streaked across the floor. If he knew how to wield a sword he could have helped—

Donors don’t fight—

Soobin’s face is slack in his memory, Kai is crying. Beeomgyu has shoved himself into a corner, face buried in his knees. Doctors in masks surround them. He’s helpless, always helpless—

Donors don’t—

“I’d like that.” His voice is firm. It surprises him. Deep and sure. Almost like it doesn’t belong to him.

San doesn’t seem to notice though. He just gives him a comforting smile, “Okay, first thing’s first, lose the cardigan. It’ll get in your way.”

Yeosang folds it neatly. He doesn’t want it to get caught and torn. He doesn’t know how he’d explain that to Seonghwa.

He picks up the training sword, weight still unbalanced in his hand, but his grip is firm.

When he turns back around, San is looking at him with a strange expression, mouth slightly parted. He’s looking at his chest? No, his clothes.

The clothes.

He’s wearing San’s clothes. Yeosang freezes, hands halfway up, unsure if he should cover himself again.

“T-They look good on you,” San stutters.

Oh.

Yeosang blushes, “Thank you.”

The silence stretches just a bit too long. San’s eyes never leave him even as his mind scrambles, eyes darting around for something else to look at.

San coughs, “Sword up.”

An order. Yeosang thinks in relief, bringing the sword up quickly. The blade wobbles slightly.

“Ah, here.” San’s hands are on his in an instant. “Keep your wrist straight.”

He pulls Yeosang’s right hand closer to the top of the hilt, adjusting his fingers until it sits more comfortably in his palm. The left, he pulls down to the bottom. The blade steadies and Yeosang’s mouth parts in surprise.

“Feel better?”

Yeosang nods. It’s much more stable this way.

“Now, bend in the knees, keep your feet apart.” San instructs, “You should be able to lunge forward and push backwards.”

Yeosang follows to a tee. Surprisingly, it works. The sword still feels unnatural in his hands – wrong, donors should never touch a weapon, a voice whispers in his ear but he shoves it down with gritted teeth. But the longsword no longer feels awkward. It feels like he could swing it without toppling off balance.

San watches with a sharp eye. He forces a deeper bend in Yeosang’s leg and has him switch sides until both of his thighs are burning.

“Good, good.” He says approvingly. He picks his own training sword up.

“Now, I’ll take you through the most versatile set up.” He comes to stand next to Yeosang. “Hold the sword here, down by your waist.”

Yeosang follows.

“From here, you can attack or defend. Like so,” San demonstrates with two swings of his sword, “Your turn.”

Yeosang tries to mimic what he saw. What happens, though, is nothing like San’s clean moves. His balance goes off and the sword ends up in the ground.

San laughs, “Try again.”

His second attempt is not much better.

“Again.” The smile on San’s face is concerning. Like he’s enjoying this too much.

It bothers Yeosang. Just a little. Enough that he swings the sword a little harder with each try. Pushing and pushing, even as his muscles burn and sweat beads on his skin, until the tip of the sword stays up.

“Good! Good!” San claps his hands. Yeosang drops the sword, hands on his knees.

San pats his back – hard.

“Let’s rest - that was impressive for your first time.”

Yeosang sits down immediately, breath coming in short pants. Even exhausted…it feels good. Feels like he accomplished something. The sea breeze is nice and cool against his sweat soaked skin. The voice in his head is blessedly quiet.

“Sorry, I assumed earlier,” San plops down next to him. “I was only turned recently. I don’t know much about how military recruits are trained.”

Yeosang turns to him. That…shouldn’t be possible. Any vampire that was turned recently had to be turned by the Vampire Council. They had to go through the military training program, they had to serve.

The only vampires who might not understand the system should be well over 300 years old – San does not seem like he’s been alive for 300 years. His face is too open, his eyes are bright, carefree, in a way most vampire’s aren’t.

“How old are you?” The question slips out of Yeosang’s mouth.

“Ah, only 30.” San rubs a hand across the nape of his neck, “Was turned at 25.”

Yeosang’s mouth goes dry. That can’t be possible. The youngest vampire outside of the military should be 96. It’s illegal for any vampire to be turned outside of the military system.

San pales, “I was turned sort of on accident – it wasn’t as an act of rebellion or anything like that! Please, don’t tell your commanders – they won’t take well to it – they’d, they’ll—”

“Kill you.” Yeosang breathes. He feels dizzy.

“Yeosang, please.” San moves to his knees. No vampire should be on his knees for Yeosang, “I know it goes against your training, I know – I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“What are you two up to?” Wooyoung interrupts him, an easy smile on his face as he jumps over to where they’re sitting. His face falls when he sees San’s distress.

“San?” He drops next to San, a hand comes to his neck and he presses their foreheads together, “What’s wrong?”

San shakes his head, his eyes squeezed shut, “I-I accidentally told him…I wasn’t turned p-properly…”

Wooyoung’s eyes go wide in alarm. He spins on Yeosang; his face is all sharp angles now. Angry and protective. Power radiates from him. Yeosang knows this already, but in this moment it is perfectly clear. He is not a young vampire.

“You won’t turn him in.” He says fiercely.

It’s an order and it whips through Yeosang’s brain. He blinks and sits up straight.

“N-No—”

“And you won’t tell any of the others you know.” Wooyoung cuts him off.

It was a mistake to speak. He’s not being asked to speak.

Yeosang nods, a jerking, unnatural motion. He brings his eyes to the ground, hands on his knees.

“If you do, Hongjoong will kill you.” Wooyoung's voice is laced with venom, “And if you turn San in, I’ll kill you myself. No matter how protected you are, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

Yeosang shivers, eyes down, “I-I won’t tell.”

“Good.” Wooyoung says shortly.

The easy camaraderie of this morning’s breakfast, of his training with San, is long gone and Yeosang feels like he’s miles away. Wooyoung pulls San up roughly.

“You need to get yourself together.” He mutters to San. It’s not as cold, but it’s not gentle either, “If Hongjoong finds out, he won’t trust him. He’ll kill him.”

Wooyoung pulls San away, down the stairs. Yeosang thinks he keeps talking, but he can’t hear him anymore. He stays kneeling on the deck. His eyes are stuck on the training sword.

He’ll never turn San in.

Notes:

we're really getting into it now - my ateez, hope you love yeosang extra good real soon!

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to come hang out on twitter!

Chapter 5

Notes:

hi hi hiiii welcome back! thank you so much for all the love you've given the past chapters your comments are just so sweet <3

and off we go *she types as she's been distracted by the possibility of a wooyoung eyebrow piercing*

Year 290 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2708 by the calendar of the Old World

Yeosang can’t sleep. It’s been three days and the crew still treats him like a guest.

True to their word, no one has tried to drink from him. He senses no hungry eyes following him as he walks around the ship.

They wait for him to speak – expect he will ask questions and answer the ones they ask. Even after San spilled his secret and Wooyoung had threatened him, nothing has come of it.

Yet.

Yeosang can see a hard edge that wasn’t there before in Wooyoung’s eyes, like he’s waiting to see if Yeosang will show signs of cracking, of turning San in. But Wooyoung also still makes him treats and excitedly watches for his reactions. He still talks to him before bed and makes sure he’s warm enough.

He even invites Yeosang into his space, showing him the video game he’s been playing on his datapad. Yeosang doesn’t really understand the game, but he likes leaning against the pillows and watching Wooyoung play.

He wonders, though, if this is Wooyoung testing him. Keeping him close so he can catch any hint that he’ll turn on San.

Yeosang won’t. And he’ll prove it to Wooyoung.

So he stays away from San and tags behind Wooyoung as he goes about his day. He stays quiet and out of the way unless he’s needed. He makes sure Wooyoung knows where he is at all times.

Yeosang rolls over and watches Wooyoung sleep. Vampires don’t breathe when they sleep, but he can see the flutter of Wooyoung’s eyes under his eyelids. He’s dreaming.

Tomorrow will be Yeosang’s fourth day aboard Hearts Awakened. Over halfway to their journey to Nocorane.

It’s a mixed civilian-military port and though Yeosang’s never been, he’s heard of it. He knows all the names of the ports with a strong military presence.

He can see the base in his mind – impressive metal and glass architecture, rising from a sprawling city teeming with vampires. The military will be glad to have him back. They’ll likely be very grateful to the crew. Maybe they’ll even reward them.

Yeosang hopes he won’t have to go through reconditioning, that he’ll just be reassigned to a new crew. He does not want to return to the Compound, to his doctors and handlers. He doesn’t want to think about how they’ll react when they find out he needs to be reconditioned – that he lied to a whole crew of vampires about who he is.

He lied.

Donors are not allowed to lie.

His stomach twists.

Don’t think about it now. Not yet.

He flips over, trying to quell the rising panic. Seonghwa is deep asleep. Not even his eyes move. With the pale skin and stillness, he could almost be dead. Yeosang fights the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand. To feel the thrum of blood under the skin. To make sure he’s still alive.

Seonghwa would definitely wake up. Wake up and ask questions Yeosang can’t answer.

He really should go to sleep.

He squeezes his eyes closed and focuses on the slight rock of the ship against the waves. It’s a quiet night.

But behind his eyes the warmth of the bed falls away, replaced by the concrete floors of the Compound. His skin prickles at the phantom sting of syringes pumping him with fluids. He can feel the cold hands of the doctors, moving him around mechanically. Like he isn’t a person.

You’re not a person.

Yeosang’s eyes shoot open.

The room feels too small. The darkness of the night feels eerie. The blue light of the moon shines against the floor. It’s too cold. The ship should be warm.

He pushes himself off the bed as quietly as he can, breath stuttering as he stumbles out into the hall.

It’s okay. It’s okay. Yeosang braces himself against the wall, fingers digging into the wood.

The lights glow a soft orange, bathing the floor in warm, comforting tones. Non-military. Designed to feel like a home.

He doesn’t know where he’s going when he sets down the hall – he just needs to go somewhere.

Each room is marked by a gold sign engraved at the top of the door. He forces himself to read the letters slowly, letting each word replace his scattered thoughts until he can breathe again:

Infirmary.

Dining Hall.

Storage.

Armory.

Library.

He stops. A library? On a ship?

Libraries existed in the old human era – before holocrons and datapads – when humans could only pass information on through words written on physical pages. The Vampiric High Council transferred all physical books into digital form when they took power. Though the original physical copies don’t exist anymore, they did make backups of each book on a series of holocrons. There’s a building dedicated to storing them in the Capital, a single physical location in case the digital stores fail.

People don’t usually use holocrons, instead purchasing copies of texts through the Attercoppe Terminal on their datapads. Holocrons are only really used by the government to communicate classified information – and to train donors.

For something so integral to most people’s lives, Yeosang’s never even held a datapad. The Compound didn’t want their donors accessing the Attercoppe Terminal. Didn’t want them distracted.

But even the Compound didn’t keep a library of holocrons. Each donor was given one at age seven and their handlers refreshed the content on it weekly to keep up with their lessons. And from what Yeosang’s seen, the crew uses datapads. They can find and read whatever they want.

Maybe this library is used to store something else? Some sort of collection?

Curiosity nags at him. He doesn’t think the library is the type of room Hongjoong didn’t want him in. It seems like a common room…though he doesn’t know. And he hasn’t been given permission.

He looks back and forth down the hall. It’s quiet.

There’s no harm in trying. Yeosang doesn’t think they’ll lock him up for entering a library.

He lets his curiosity win, trying the doorknob. It turns easily under his hand, the door creaking as he pushes it open. The library’s lights flicker on automatically at the movement and Yeosang gasps, hand slipping from the doorknob.

Because the room is filled with shelves and shelves of books. Real books. Paper books.

He’s never even seen a real book before.

There’s a pull – for what, he doesn’t know, but he can’t help it. His fingers meet the spines of the books. He feels every imperfect edge. Every ridge of the embossed titles and worn cloth bindings. The titles…they’re…fiction. Names he’s never heard, text that has nothing to do with ships or military structures or medical needs. Stories.

Yeosang’s finger catches on one cover; an ombre green with gold lettering. He pulls it from the shelf.

“You like to read?”

He didn’t close the door behind him.

Yeosang spins around, book clutched close to his chest.

Hongjoong stands in doorway. Yeosang’s only seen him a handful of times since he’d been rescued and Hongjoong has always been the captain, the leader of the ship. A presence larger than life.

Now, though, he looks nothing like a captain.

His hair is tousled and he’s dressed simply in an overly large white blouse and black sweatpants. There are deep circles under his eyes. So deep, Yeosang doesn’t know how he didn’t notice them before. The scar stands out sharp on his cheek.

Yeosang nods hesitantly.

“It’s a good one.” Hongjoong says. He shifts from foot to foot, swaying. “A quick read.”

Yeosang looks down at the book and then back up to Hongjoong. Questioning.

“You can take it back to your room, if you want.”

Yeosang gives another uncertain nod. Is Hongjoong okay with him reading – with him being in the library – or does he just want him to leave?

He can’t form the words to ask, but his silence must be irritating because Hongjoong sighs.

He brushes past Yeosang and throws himself down onto one of a set of plush blue couches Yeosang hadn’t seen, too busy looking at the books. There’s some rustling as he tries to get comfortable. There’s no blankets that Yeosang can see and only a couple decorative pillows.

Is Hongjoong going to…sleep here? Doesn’t he have a room? His own room?

Back at the Compound, Yeosang often didn’t want to return to his room by himself. He didn’t want to spend the night alone, surrounded only by grey walls and cold floors. Maybe Hongjoong is the same.

But he’s the captain. If he wants to share a room, he can. He can even order it.

He must not want to.

It isn’t his place, but Yeosang feels the strange urge to check on him. He hesitates, book tight to his chest, mouth open slightly.

“You can take it back to your room, if you want.”

He should leave. Listen to what Hongjoong told him and take the book and go back to his room.

He takes one more glance at the couch; Hongjoong has his eyes closed and his arms crossed. His body is tense, jaw clenched, like he’s trying to force himself to sleep.

Yeosang forces himself to turn away, to shut the door quietly behind him and plod back down the hall to the room he shares with Wooyoung and Seonghwa.

It doesn’t seem so cold now, in the room. Seonghwa shifts slightly in his sleep. Wooyoung mumbles something unintelligible. The light of the moon shimmers through the window, but the blue-white of it seems calming now instead of frigid.

There’s an edge of guilt as Yeosang sinks into the warmth of his bed, but he pushes it down.

Being in this room, watching Seonghwa and Wooyoung sleep until he’s lulled to sleep, isn’t what Hongjoong wants. It’s what Yeosang wants. If it was what Hongjoong wanted, he’d be here, and not the library. He’s the captain.

Yeosang pulls the book out, running a hand down the bound cover. It even has a smell unlike anything he’s ever smelled before. Yeosang thumbs through the pages slowly, taking in each word.

Hongjoong was right. It is good and he’s quickly sucked into a world of oceans not made of water, collections of teacups, and love.

–

On the fifth night, Yeosang tumbles out of the bed, shoulder hitting the floor. He yelps. The ground shifts below his feet. It’s like…it’s like…

When the Shadow—

No. It won’t happen again. It can’t happen again.

He won’t let it.

He’s alone, Seonghwa and Wooyoung nowhere to be seen.

Yeosang pushes himself up, stumbling to the door as the ship turns sharply. His body smacks into the frame, pain shooting up his side.

The lights flicker in the hallway and the floor tilts precariously, sending him careening into the walls. He grapples up the hall to the stairs, latching onto the rail.

The door to the deck blows open violently, wind and rain smattering across his face. He can barely see through the storm, can’t hear anything over the roar of the sea.

He takes one step and slips, sliding with the tilt of the vessel towards the edge of the deck. He grasps at the railing, dragging himself up.

Only to be met with the violent roll of stormy grey waves. His mind blanks. Yeosang’s always loved the ocean, always thought of it as a constant companion, but this close he feels nothing but danger.

Hands grab his arms, yanking him around.

“Yeosang!” It’s Yunho, his eyes wide, “What are you doing? Get below deck, now!”

The vampire pulls him back towards the door leading back below deck. His feet are sure where Yeosang’s slip against the rain soaked wood. Yunho yanks the door open.

“Stay below!”

The order breaks through Yeosang’s panicked mind. He rushes down the stairs, so keen on obeying that he tumbles down the last few steps, crying out as his knees crash into the ground. The door slams shut behind him.

They’re locking him in? No, no, they wouldn’t – wouldn’t lock him where he can’t help, they won’t—

“Yeosang?”

Yeosang’s head jerks towards the voice. It’s Jongho. He’s got a heavy leather jacket on and he looks a bit dishevelled. Like he just woke up. His face softens as he nears Yeosang.

“It’s just a storm, this ship can handle it.” Jongho says. It’s placating, hands up to calm him.

A storm. Not an attack. Just a storm.

Yeosang feels a bit silly, “Oh.”

Jongho considers him, “Come help me in the stock room. I need to do some inventory prep before we stop at port.”

It goes against Yeosang’s every instinct as the ship tilts again, but he follows Jongho deeper into the ship. Down another flight of stairs and then another until the stairwell opens up to a large stock room. It’s quieter down here, the floor still rocks back and forth but it’s far less dramatic.

Or maybe the storm is waning.

Jongho flips on a light. It flickers once, twice, before settling on an orange glow with a buzz. He gives it a disapproving look and takes out his datapad, typing out a note. Yeosang stays close to him as he walks to each black bin. Each is meticulously labeled.

Ammunition.

Blades.

Dry foods.

Clothing.

Fabric.

Wood.

There are also some that appear to be written in some sort of code, letters swooping in unfamiliar lines across the lids. Jongho doesn’t check those. Yeosang doesn’t ask what the code means.

“I heard you’re in training to turn.” Jongho says into the silence.

Yeosang jolts, “Yes.”

The lie sticks to his tongue, unconfident and thin. Jongho turns towards him, eyebrow raised.

“Having doubts?”

Yeosang keeps his gaze on the nearest barrel, his fingers twitch at his sides, “Maybe.”

“My advice?” Jongho says, “Don’t.”

Yeosang looks at him. The vampire is standing stiffly, his hands clenched around his datapad, knuckles white.

“It’s not worth it. Immortal life under the thumb of the High Council.” Jongho says. There’s a hard edge in his voice, “That’s if – and only if – you survive your military conscription.”

Jongho laughs. It’s humorless, “Did you know only 37% of vampires turned by the High Council make it to their discharge date?”

Yeosang stares at him. He’d always been told that being turned by the Vampiric High Council was the highest honor. They’re the only ones who can turn humans. Who can give eternal life.

“They don’t advertise it, of course.” Jongho continues, “They want to keep up their supply of human soldiers.”

“But…how?”

How can most of the newly turned vampires be dying? They’re highly trained, immortal, with vampiric powers. The current human population is no match for them and the country has been at peace since the formation of the Vampiric High Council.

Jongho examines him, “How long have you been training with them?”

Yeosang has no idea what the right answer is so he goes with the truth.

“My whole life.”

Jongho’s face softens, “Oh.”

Yeosang tilts his head to the side, “Oh?”

“I thought you were an elite,” Jongho says, “Wealthy family, close relatives turned.”

Was there another option? Yeosang has only ever heard of wealthy – and smart – members of humanity being granted an opportunity to be turned. He thought they were selected during their early schooling.

“Oh.” Is all Yeosang says. If his answer makes sense to Jongho, he won’t push it.

“I…I know it seems hard to leave, dangerous even,” Jongho continues tentatively, “But there’s more out here for you as a human.”

Yeosang turns to him, questioning. Their eyes meet.

Jongho inhales sharply, “I could talk to Hongjoong. If–If you want.”

Yeosang tilts his head. What would talking to Hongjoong do?

“We…We don’t take humans usually, but the crew likes you.” Jongho’s ears are bright red. Again, an odd phenomenon for a vampire, “A-And even if Hongjoong doesn’t go for it, we can find you a better life. With humans. Good ones.”

Yeosang’s mouth dries.

Jongho clasps his shoulder. His grasp is firm, sure.

“Just…think about it. You deserve better than to be fodder for the High Council.”

–

It’s his sixth night aboard and sleep feels out of his reach yet again. Jongho’s words replay over and over in his head. Could he really just join the crew? Live as a human with them? Or let them find him a better life?

What would a better life even look like? Alone in the human world?

He’s rarely ever interacted with normal humans. Non-military humans. Civilians—

“He’s their food source.” A human stands above him. This human was captured recently, he still has energy to fight. His crew huddles around him. “Kill the mutant and you kill the vampire’s food source.”

Yeosang’s just been drained. He’s too weak to move, he can barely stay conscious.

And what would he say? They might be right. Maybe the best thing he can do for them is die.

They don’t speak to him though. They only cast furtive looks in his direction, closing their group from him.

The human who spoke moves forward only moments later, a hard look on his face. He’s a large man, skin tanned and wrinkled from years in the sun. There are smile lines around his eyes and mouth. There’s no smile to be found now.

His hands are on Yeosang in an instant, tight around Yeosang’s neck. Yeosang thrashes weakly, far too weakly. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, his vision is darkening and he can’t breathe—

It feels like he’s gone for only a moment before he comes to with a panicked gasp.

He’s…alone. The humans are gone, only bloodsoaked wood—

Yeosang bites his lip hard. He’s not in that cell. He’s on a soft bed. The blue light of the moon spills onto the well maintained floor. Only the light vanilla scent of the room freshener lingers in the air.

There’s no blood. No tang of iron in the air.

“You are not allowed to die. You are ours.” The captain’s voice echoes.

Yeosang does not belong to humans. Yeosang is a creation for vampires. He can’t be sent to live with humans.

But…he can belong to the crew of Hearts Awakened.

Jongho might have been worried that Hongjoong wouldn’t accept him. But he doesn’t know. Yeosang is a valuable asset for vampire crew. He can easily feed them, day in and day out.

And, it’s selfish, but their medical bay is much nicer than any other he’d ever been in.

Yeosang flips over, pulling his blanket closer. The fabric is soft against his fingers. He hadn’t seen any blankets in the medical bay, but he’d still be happy there. He’d be happy to live out his the rest of his days in that medical bay, able to watch the sea and the sun through those grand windows.

And Hearts Awakened would need to be serviced now and again. They’d have to take him onto land. They might like leaving the windows open the way Hansol did.

Hansol…

Yeosang shifts onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. A sense of wrongness crawls over his skin. To stay aboard the Hearts Awakened is a betrayal to his crew. To their deaths. To Seokmin’s efforts to hide him.

“I’m sorry, Yeosang.”

Memories cloud his vision. Seokmin, Hansol, the Compound, the pirate ship. He needs to move. He needs them to be quiet.

Yeosang sits up, firmly pushing the blankets away. He ignores his slippers. The refreshing cool of the wood floor against his bare feet centers him, chases at the fog of memories hovering at the edge of his consciousness.

He lets himself out into the hall, shutting the door gently behind him. It’s quiet. Too quiet. He itches to feel the wind against his skin. To hear the thrum of waves lapping against the ship.

They weren’t upset when he went to get a book a few nights ago. They weren’t upset when he went up on the deck by himself.

And he’d be back before they woke up. He’d only go out for a little bit.

A wave of cold air welcomes Yeosang as he steps onto the deck. The stars are shining bright overhead, lighting his way.

He leans over the ship’s railing. The ocean is dark but the reflection of the moon is clear in the water. It’s peaceful.

He dangles a hand over the edge, watching the moonlight reflect onto his fingers, silvery waves dance against his skin.

He could lose himself in the ebb and flow, in the quiet melody of the sea. With each breath he takes, he feels like he can hear something deeper. A hum that’s coming from the very depths.

It’s calling to him. Wrapping him in warmth and pulling him closer and closer until the railing digs into his waist.

The song is more than a hum. There’s a voice. The most beautiful voice. Warm, kind, encouraging, it calls to Yeosang’s very consciousness. Coating his thoughts in a comforting haze.

Come closer.

Yeosang pulls himself onto the railing, sitting with his feet over the edge. When he looks down, though, the ocean has disappeared. Transformed into soft clouds, swirling in pinks and blues. A being rests at the center of the clouds and they’re beautiful. Kind eyes and a kinder smile, dressed in gossamer silver fabric.

They’re the one singing to him – for him.

They wave a hand, golden bracelets chiming harmoniously, and the tops of the clouds separate in swirls that flow towards Yeosang. But he barely has a moment to look at them because underneath, he can see his crew.

They’re alive.

They’re there, in the clouds. Sleeping peacefully. All together. Yeosang’s mouth parts, tears spring to his eyes.

They’re…they’re…alive. He can see Hansol and Seokmin’s chests rise and fall peacefully. And Yeosang can barely move, can barely breathe.

They’re alive.

He looks back to the being – the being who saved them. They smile, soft and welcoming, and, with another wave of their hand, a second cloud disperses.

Yeosang cries out. It’s his cohort. They’re playing in the clouds, tossing a wispy ball back and forth. Yeonjun looks happier than Yeosang’s ever seen him.

Soobin turns towards him, black hair ruffling in the wind.

“Yeosang…” His voice is a song and Yeosang’s grasp on the railing loosens.

Soobin raises a hand out to him—

“Ah!”

The being sitting in the center cries out. It’s a horrible screeching sound so loud Yeosang’s vision flickers. Black tar bursts from the being’s hand, splattering across the clouds.

His crew wakes up as it hits them, skin blistering an ugly red as they shout. His cohort – his friends – scream. Agonized horrible sounds. They’re frantic as they try to help each other, skin burning. “Soobin!” Yeosang pushes himself forward but an arm wraps around his waist roughly.

“Yeosang!”

He’s yanked back over the railing, tumbling back onto the deck. He thrashes and hands slap over his ears.

He tries to pull them away, the faces of his cohort – of the crew – in agony flicker across his eyes. He can see Hongjoong just beyond them, he can feel the captain’s hands holding his face. He’s talking to Yeosang, but he can’t hear him. He can only hear their screams. He can only smell their burning flesh—

He yanks his head away from Hongjoong, kicking and scratching against him. Their screams grow louder, voices melding together. He can save them. He has to save them.

Adrenaline shoots through his system and he throws Hongjoong off.

Yeosang scrambles to the edge. Orange flashes against the water. Gunfire.

He can’t see his old crew, but his cohort is standing on a small piece of pink cloud, dusted with soot.

Taehyun’s trying to help Beomgyu as he coughs up black tar. Soobin is pulling Yeonjun up, face pale and slack. Kai has a burnt hand over his mouth, his arm is bleeding into the ocean.

“This way!” Yeosang shouts desperately.

Taehyun look up at him, eyes wide and panicked. “Yeosan—”

There’s another flash and they scream. Red fills the sea.

“No!”

They’re alive – they have to still be alive. But when the smoke clears, he only sees Kai. Kai who’s pulled his arms around himself, curled inwards to protect his organs.

Yeosang won’t let him die.

Yeosang pulls himself up onto the railing—

“Jongho!”

Arms come around his waist and fling him to the ground. His breath is knocked from him and he gasps. A heavy body is pressing his to the deck. He can’t move an inch.

Gunfire goes off in the distance and with it the screams grow. It’s Kai’s screams – he knows Kai’s screams. He sobs.

“K-Kai – p-please don’t hurt him, p-please—”

“—get him below.”

The weight disappears but the grip on his arms only tightens as he’s picked up. He doesn’t have enhanced strength and he can barely thrash as one arm presses his arms against his torso and another holds his legs.

More gunfire and Yeosang feels like his world is being ripped from him.

“—be okay—”

“—one more moment—”

There’s a pinch and everything goes dark.

–

Yeosang wakes up in his bed. His head aches, his eyes are sore. He turns his head to the side; there’s someone there, head pillowed in their arms.

“S-San?” His voice is raw.

San flinches, looking up. His eyes are bloodshot, but he smiles tiredly, “Welcome back.”

Yeosang barely hears him. His eyes dart around the room. He doesn’t see them. He doesn’t see any of them. Just Wooyoung, sitting on his own bed watching him closely.

Yeosang pushes himself up, “M-My—”

“It was a siren,” San’s hands are on his shoulders, steady, even as his voice wavers, “Whoever you saw, they weren’t there. It was the siren’s call.”

Yeosang narrows his eyes, “Sirens don’t exist. My—”

“What? Of course they exist.” San says it like its commonplace.

But he’s wrong. Sirens are monsters. Monsters don’t exist. Yeosang’s holocrons were very clear about that.

“Humans made them up.” Yeosang says, “They didn’t know what they were seeing in the mists. They were too tired, too hungry—”

“Yeosang.” San stops him firmly. “Think about what you actually saw. Sirens use your memories, but the vision itself is off. Otherworldly. No mist could do that.”

Yeosang frowns. He knows their smiles, their screams. But it’s an order so he thinks back. Back to the swirl of pink and white. The unnatural joy on their faces. The way the ball they were tossing seemed to be made of clouds itself.

And how could they be playing? On the ocean at night like that? How could his old crew be sleeping? How could Hansol’s chest rise and fall with his breath when Hansol was dead. And Yeosang saw his dead body with his own eyes, smelled the horrible copper scent of blood. Knew those eyes were lifeless.

If Hansol is still dead—

He seizes San’s arm, “Are they dead? All of them?”

San quickly shakes his head, “Sirens have no connection to their visions in the real world. They just create what they think their victims want to see most.”

Yeosang slumps back. Not dead. His cohort wasn’t dead—

The door opens. “Ship is secure, how’s he doing?”

It’s Hongjoong, he sounds tired. Yeosang feels a flash of fear. He fought against Hongjoong, scratched and clawed at him like an animal.

“He’s awake.” San answers.

Yeosang sits up properly, head down. He’s tempted to kneel but he doesn't think vampire trainees kneel.

“I’m sorry—”

“What were you thinking?” Hongjoong cuts him off. The exhaustion is gone from his voice. Replaced by jagged anger. “Going above deck at night this far out at sea?”

“I—”

“Did the military teach you nothing?”

Yeosang flinches.

“Hongjoong…” San tries to interject.

“He endangered the entire crew, going out like that.” Hongjoong says sharply, “What is it? Do you have a death wish?”

Yeosang keeps his mouth shut, shaking his head. There’s a rustle of fabric on the other bed, but Yeosang keeps his eyes down.

“Let it go, Hongjoong.” Wooyoung murmurs, “We’ll be at Nocorane tomorrow. He’ll only be with us for a few more hours. A day at most.”

“Wooyoung—”

“I know, but we’re safe,” Wooyoung’s voice is quiet, “We’re all safe.”

It’s quiet for a moment, tension thick in the air.

“Fine,” Hongjoong sighs, “But he doesn’t go anywhere alone.”

Yeosang nods even though it’s not directed to him.

“I’ll stay with him.” San offers.

Yeosang tenses. Wooyoung hasn’t like him being around San.

“Okay.” Hongjoong accepts, “Bring him up to the deck in the morning.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” San jokes.

Hongjoong just sighs. Yeosang doesn’t look up. He listens closely to the sounds of boots on the wooden floor. To the door closing with a soft click.

“They’re gone.” San pulls his face up with gentle fingers, “Hongjoong’s intense, I know.”

“I really am sorry,” Yeosang’s voice wavers, “I shouldn’t have gone up without permission—”

“No, no,” San shushes him, “You should have been taught better. In this region, no one should go above deck on a clear night. Why they didn’t tell you sirens existed, is beyond me.”

Yeosang holds his tongue. He knows why. He was never to be above deck on the open ocean. It is his fault. If he’d followed his training, no one would have been in danger.

“Here, lay back down,” San fluffs his pillow, “You should get some sleep, you’re going home tomorrow.”

He says it brightly. As thought it’s a cause for celebration.

Home.

Something ugly rears in his chest as he lays down. But then San brushes gentle fingers through his hair. It’s a bit like how Yeonjun used to sooth him after his enhancement procedures, but at the same time there’s something different about it. About the trail of goosebumps San’s fingers leave in their wake.

Notes:

poor yeosang...man i put him through it...plus it's like he has insomnia this chapter, i never let him sleep. also! bonus points for whoever can guess the book yeosang picked!

thank you for reading! as always you can find me on twitter!

Chapter 6

Notes:

hiii welcome back!! thank you all for the love and comments on the last chapter! and I hope you enjoy this one!

(for anyone who was curious about the book from last chapter - it's Tress of the Emerald Sea, I love that book and it got me back into reading a couple of years ago!)

Year 290 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2708 by the calendar of the Old World

The port is fancy. New. With glossy buildings shining in the mid-morning light. Yeosang can already see the naval base; a towering structure on the far end of the waterfront surrounded by large warships and smaller frigates. They’re too far to see any people, but Yeosang can imagine the vampires locked in meetings in the offices, the humans preparing ships for departure.

They’ll be happy to get him back, he knows it. He’s a precious resource. An unconscionable amount of money went into making him.

It’ll be better there. It’s where he belongs.

Yeosang turns away. He likes it here.

Even after endangering the crew, San still took him up onto the deck after he woke up. Wooyoung still fed him this morning and the book Hongjoong recommended remains on his bedside table. He’s been putting off finishing it.

But if he had any chance of keeping up his lie – of fitting into the crew as a human – it’s gone after last night. Hongjoong will never let someone who endangered his crew stay. What could a vampire trainee who didn’t even know sirens existed offer? He was dead weight as an ordinary human.

He should return to the military. It’s what he should do.

But the crew doesn’t know he’s not an ordinary human. They don’t know he’s an asset; the perfect resource.

Yeosang looks towards the quarterdeck. Hongjoong’s at the helm with Yunho next to him, gesturing to his datapad.

He owes them. After how nicely they treated him. After they saved him.

Selfish. His handler’s voice whispers in his ear.

He belongs to the military. But he’s indebted to this crew. He wouldn’t be alive without them.

Selfish—

He pushes the voice back as he walks up the stairs, mind made up.

“Yeosang?” Yunho asks.

He drops to his knees, eyes on the ground. “I’ve been lying.”

His hands clutch the fabric of his pants. Jongho lent him his pants today. The cotton is a deep brown, well worn until it’s soft. He likes them.

“What?” Hongjoong’s voice is sharp.

Yeosang holds back a flinch. He’s the perfect donor. Trained and certified to the highest of standards. “I’m not in training to be turned—”

“You’re not military?” Hongjoong interrupts.

Yeosang can only see the edges of Hongoong’s boots, but he can imagine the captain’s face twisting in anger.

“No, I am – I was,” His hands shake against his will. “I’m a donor.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. Hongjoong takes a step back.

“You…donated blood to the military?” Yunho sounds confused.

“No,” Hongjoong knows what he is, he can hear it in his voice. “He’s a professional donor. A modified human, am I right?”

“Yes.” Yeosang nods, “Certified by the Ressovsky Association of Haematic Sciences. Optimized Provisions branch.”

Hongjoong curses.

“Hongjoong?” Yunho asks.

“Do you have a tracker?”

Yeosang remembers the cool of the metal against his neck. The snap as it broke off. What it meant.

“I d-did, but it’s gone—”

“We need to do a scan.” Hongjoong interrupts him, “If they’ve been tracking us this whole time—”

“Hongjoong—”

“No!” Hongjoong’s voice is laced with anger. “I was stupid – I should never have allowed military personnel on board.”

He yanks Yeosang up, hand tight around his wrist, and pulls him down the stairs. Yeosang can’t help, but resist as Hongjoong walks him towards the stairs.

What if it’s the last time he’s allowed on the deck?

Hongjoong yanks him harshly and the sky falls away. He can’t fight back. Donors don’t fight back.

The door shuts behind them with a hiss that’s too quiet. Yeosang wishes it would slam, loud and final as it cuts Yeosang off from the outside world.

You knew this would happen.

Yeosang lets the fight seep out of his limbs as Hongjoong drags him down the hallway to the medical bay. It’s bright, at least, as Hongjoong shoves him into the chair. The sun is shining through the windows. He does love these windows.

“Don’t move.” The captain’s eyes face is pinched as he rummages in a drawer.

Hongjoong brings over a scanner, methodically pressing it to Yeosang’s neck. There’s a small sting as the scanner enters his bloodstream. There’s no point. Donors don’t have internal trackers, the new collar technology made them irrelevant a few years ago, but maybe it isn’t common knowledge.

The captain’s eyes are downcast. He’s staring at the device in his hand. It beeps in small intervals. Seconds and then minutes pass without alarm.

“Why did you lie?” Hongjoong breaks the silence. To Yeosang’s surprise, he doesn’t sound angry.

“I…” Yeosang looks up at the ceiling, resting his head against the back of the medical chair, “You assumed and I…was tired.”

“You’re still human. The lie wouldn’t have saved you if we wanted to drain you.”

“I’m…hard to drain.” A shiver runs through his body, “If you thought I was a normal human, you might not drain me all the way.”

Hongjoong hums, “And when you realized we wouldn’t drain you, why did you keep pretending?”

“It…I…”

Yeosang doesn’t know how to say it. It sounds too selfish. He was created for them to drink from. To be there when they were on the verge of death and keep them healthy in everyday life. It’s his purpose.

“I wanted to keep seeing the sun.” He still says it. Very, very quietly.

Hongjoong doesn’t respond. His device makes a louder beep, a green color flashing across the screen. He holds it back up to Yeosang’s neck to retrieve the scanner.

“You were right. You don’t have a tracker.”

Yeosang plays with the edge of his pants, “They broke it off me. The…other captain.”

“He knew what you were.”

It’s not a question, but Yeosang nods anyway.

“Why did you tell us today?”

His skin crawls, but he forces himself to take a deep breath, “I can feed you.”

Hongjoong’s face goes slack with surprise. He looks young like this. Like how he was in the library.

“You want us to feed from you?”

Yeosang wants to stay and it’s the only way he can. But he doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

“That isn’t it, is it,” Hongjoong murmurs, “You don’t want us to drop you off at the naval base.”

Yeosang doesn’t move.

“Yeosang…” Hongjoong sighs.

“Please.” He only has one chance. One chance to convince them or he’ll be back in a windowless room at the Compound, reconditioned, and sent back to a warship. “Your crew will never go hungry. I’ll feed them!”

Yeosang pulls his shirt – another one of San’s – to the side, baring his neck. “Try to drain me right now – try. I can sustain your crew two times over.”

Hongjoong flinches back, shaking his head quickly, “E-Even if that’s true, you know how valuable you are.” He takes a deep breath. “You’ll put a target on my crew’s back.”

“They think I’m dead!”

“Do you know that? For sure? Because the High Council I know doesn’t take well to uncertainties.” Hongjoong’s eyes are dull.

Yeosang…doesn’t know what to say to that. He was top of his donor class and each donor class is made up of only twelve people. Each class takes twenty years to raise and not all of them survive. He could very well be too valuable to write off without a body.

If Hongjoong keeps him, he puts his life and the lives of his crew at risk.

Hongjoong looks pained, “I’m sorry, Yeosang.”

It’s to Hongjoong’s benefit, really, to turn him in. He’ll give the government an asset valuable enough to be ransomed for free and the government will find him trustworthy. They might even give Hongjoong a little something for his trouble.

And Yeosang will be checked over, reconditioned. Reassigned to a new unit. Kept locked away in a medical bay, never quite drained enough to lose consciousness.

Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, he slumps back against the medical chair. He wonders for the first time how long he’ll live. His lifespan has been artificially extended. He might live for five hundred years, if RHS is to be believed.

He hopes some military medical bays have windows. Some must…right?

Selfish.

“Come on,” Hongjoong says. His voice is strained, “Come say goodbye, we’ll be arriving any moment now.”

Yeosang picks up the pieces of his shattered hope. He follows Hongjoong up the familiar stairs to the deck. There’s a murmur as they come up.

“No tracker,” Hongjoong announces, “He’s clean.”

Yeosang hears the sigh of relief but he can’t bring himself to look up at them. It’s easier this way. It’s how he was trained. Eyes on the ground.

“Sorry, Hongjoong, we should’ve checked.”

It’s Seonghwa’s voice. He sees Hongjoong wave the apology away out of the corner of his eye.

“We’ve been cleared to dock.” Yunho says.

“Good.” Hongjoong says. He sounds tired. “Mingi, take us in.”

“Aye, aye,” Mingi answers playfully.

Hearts Awakened shifts under their feet. Yeosang looks over to Nocorane. It’s so close now.

“Yeosang!” San grabs his arm, spinning him around. He’s holding a well worn leather bag. Wooyoung stands next to him, a bright smile on his face. “Here, we packed some things for you.”

“I’ve put some cookies in there – make sure you eat them in the next day or two. They’ll go stale otherwise.” Wooyoung adds happily, hooking his chin over San’s shoulder.

The bag is curiously heavy in Yeosang’s hands and he opens it. He holds back a gasp. It’s filled to the brim.

The bag of cookies is there, but he can also see something silky – pjs, probably from Seonghwa – and the red cardigan he’d taken on his second day aboard. And to the side, his book. There’s a lump in his throat. He closes the bag back up. He won’t get to keep it.

He wants to ask if he can eat the cookies now, to taste the chocolate once more before he goes back to his iron-based diet. But he doesn’t want Wooyoung to feel bad.

“Thank you,” Yeosang says, instead. He holds the bag close to his chest. It’s nice. To have a few things that are his. Even if just for a moment.

“Aw, we’ll miss you, Yeosang,” Wooyoung ruffles his hair. There’s something off in his smile.

Yeosang opens his mouth, “Wooyoung—”

“Wooyoung? Where’s your list?” Jongho shouts from across the deck. His eyebrows are furrowed at his datapad.

Wooyoung jumps, “Ah, sorry! One sec.”

He runs below deck. San rolls his eyes fondly and follows after him. To do what, Yeosang doesn’t know. If anything, San will slow Wooyoung down.

There’s a tap on Yeosang’s shoulder. He turns to see Hongjoong holding out a black cloak.

“For you. In case there’s anyone looking for an easy reward when we land.”

Yeosang takes it. His hands shake as he clasps it around his neck. Hongjoong pulls the hood over his hair.

“Pretty, but so noticeable.” Hongjoong murmurs, tucking a red curl behind his ear, “I wonder if they did that on purpose.”

His hands still, mouth parted slightly. Yeosang freezes. Nausea twists in his stomach.

Hongjoong stutters, “I…”

The ship jolts as they dock. Hongjoong drops his hands and turns away.

There’s a clamor as Wooyoung and San race back up the stairs.

“Here!” Wooyoung hands a crumpled piece of paper to Jongho. “Sorry.”

Jongho glares at him, “How many times have I told you to send it to me. Electronically.”

Wooyoung just shrugs with a laugh. Jongho sighs and takes a picture of the list with his datapad.

“I really don’t know why you need this stuff on board.”

“Just think of it as my hobby.”

They’re still arguing as San slides the gangway down and secures it to the dock so they can deboard. The dock is busy, people and vampires darting about. Yeosang pulls his cloak tighter around him. He doesn’t stand out, thankfully. A lot of the vampires around them are wearing cloaks to protect them from the sun.

It strikes him then just how rare it is for a crew to like the sun as much as this one seems too. Hongjoong guides them down the pier until they reach the main deck. Above, there’s a board with a list of times for public trains and ferries.

There’s a train that goes from the port to the naval base. Yeosang sees it. Stark against the other options denoted by a small military logo.

Next train: 3 minutes

He starts towards the station, but Hongjoong catches his arm, pulling him away. He doesn’t look at Yeosang.

“It’s a…It’s a nice walk to the naval base.” Hongjoong says, “Let’s just walk.”

Yeosang nods even as he can see the others giving Hongjoong confused looks. He recognizes it for what it is. An apology.

It’s a nice day, though, and the boardwalk is well maintained, clean and polished. The sun shines down on them, but it’s early still. It isn’t the burning heat Yeosang felt aboard Hearts Awakened in the middle of the day, but more of a warm kiss.

Waves crash against the shore, not far from the walkway. There’s a beach down by the water. Children are playing in the ocean, brightly colored suits darting in and out of the waves.

He should be able to hear the waves. He should be able to hear the crew talking around him. And he sort of can. Bits and pieces of their words mingle with the rhythm of the ocean, but most of it is lost underneath an increasing buzz in his ears.

Is this…anxiety? Fear? He shouldn’t feel either. He’s going back to where he belongs, to do what he was made for again.

He tries to breathe, in and out. In and out.

“After we drop Yeosang off, we need to go to the market – Jongho needs new clothes—”

It’s Seonghwa’s voice. Yeosang latches on to it. He’s never been to a market, but he’s seen one every now and again from Hansol’s hotel windows. Bright colors, bustling with people and vampires.

“You mean you need new clothes.” Jongho whines.

“Well, I might get something with you but, to be honest, you’ve been mending some of your shirts so long that they’re more patches than they are shirt.”

“Fine, fine,” Jongho waves his hand. It’s strangely blurry. “Can we go to Rochelle’s afterwards? I’ve been craving their steak.”

Yeosang wonders what steak tastes like. It comes from meat that can’t be easily preserved and is far too expensive for military troops.

“If Jongho gets to pick where we get dinner, can I pick desert?” San exclaims.

“If we’re going to do all this eating, we should stock up on some digestives.” Hongjoong laughs.

“Oh, can we get popcorn at the movie theater then?” Mingi jumps in. Their voices are starting to sound farther away. Yeosang can’t move, feet stuck to the ground.

“Fine, fine.” Hongjoong says. There’s a smile in his voice. It’s the most carefree Yeosang has heard him.

He can imagine the day ahead of them. Humans with their small children buying treats. Vampires and their covens trying on expensive cloaks after the sun sets, twirling under the moonlight. They’d then go off – to a restaurant or a theatre or home. Yeosang used to watch them, tracing each group’s movements, imagining their conversations, until Hansol closed the blinds for the night.

“Hey, are you okay?” Warm fingers wrap around Yeosang’s wrist.

He thinks it’s Wooyoung, but he’s blurry. “Y-yes.”

“You’re crying.”

Oh. His cheeks are wet. That’s why Wooyoung’s blurry. He turns away from Wooyoung. He tries to wipe them away, but more just keep coming.

“Hey, hey.” Wooyoung sounds alarmed now, but his voice is still quiet. The other members are drifting further away. “Come here.”

He turns Yeosang around so his face is pressing into his shoulder. His hood falls down, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The sun is warm on his head. Wooyoung’s arms around him are so secure.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head into Wooyoung’s chest. He can’t put this on Wooyoung. Hongjoong’s making a decision that’s best for his coven. He can’t jeopardize that.

And he doesn’t know if he can bear to hear Wooyoung make the same decision. Because he will. For San, if for nothing else.

“He’s not a vampire in training.” It’s Yunho’s voice. He must’ve noticed as they fell behind.

“What?” Wooyoung’s breath ruffles his hair.

“He’s a donor.” Yunho says, “Hongjoong said a professional one? I’ve never heard of a military position like that before.”

Yeosang expects Wooyoung to let him go then. To pull back with poorly disguised pity. Donors shouldn’t cry. If he was crying, it meant he really did need to be reconditioned. Like a tool that needed to be fixed.

But Wooyoung arms only tighten around him. “A donor?”

“That’s what Hongjoong said. Yeosang told us he was lying before the ship docked.”

“Yeosang?” Wooyoung lets him go, cupping his hands under Yeosang’s chin so Yeosang will meet his eyes.

Yeosang’s still sniffling, but he gives a half nod, “It’s true.”

Wooyoung brushes his tears away and then pulls him close again. “We can’t send him back.”

Yeosang’s stomach flips. Can’t send him back?

“What?”

“We can’t send him back,” Wooyoung’s arms are tight around him and Yeosang can’t bring himself to hope.

“What’s going on?” It’s Hongjoong. Yeosang’s blood freezes, but Wooyoung’s arms don’t loosen.

“He’s a RHS donor?” Wooyoung’s voice is…accusatory?

“Wooyoung—”

“And you were going to give him back!”

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong sighs, “I know how you feel, but it’s dangerous.”

Wooyoung’s breath is sharp against Yeosang’s ear, “It’s dangerous?”

“I have to think of the coven—”

“The coven? You promised us we’d make decisions together as a coven.” Wooyoung says, “I don’t remember being asked.”

“Wooyoung—”

“You’re not giving him back.” His voice is ice.

“It’s where he belongs.” Hongjoong sounds pained.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung takes a shaky breath. “You’re not this cruel.”

“What’s happening?” Seonghwa interjects.

“Did you know?” Wooyoung asks. An accusation hangs on his tongue.

“Know what?” Seonghwa asks. He sounds confused.

“He’s a genetically engineered donor.”

There’s a silence. Yeosang dares to turn his face so he can see the others. Seonghwa hesitates. Wooyoung steps backwards, pulling Yeosang with him.

“...What?” Jongho asks, pale skin turning paler.

“Hongjoong was going to give him back!”

“Hongjoong—”

“Fine! But we can’t have this conversation here.” Hongjoong hisses. His eyes dart around, “We need to go back to the ship. And put his hood back up! Now.”

Wooyoung doesn’t let him go as Hongjoong ushers them back through the crowds to the ship. His hand is tight in Yeosang’s, arm rigid as he tries to keep Yeosang as close as possible. He only lets go briefly so Yeosang can walk the bridge back up to the ship.

“Everyone below deck – meeting room.” Hongjoong mutters once everyone’s on board.

The tension in the air is thick as they make their way down the hall. Hongjoong unlocks a well-oiled wood door at the end of the hall. Yeosang’s never been here. It’s Hongjoong’s domain.

The room itself is large with an old fashioned window that looks out onto the water. There’s a cluttered desk in the center and emerald couches on either side of the room. The floor is covered in an old, faded carpet.

Hongjoong sighs and leans against the desk, facing the crew. Wooyoung stays standing next to Yeosang, hand holding his own tightly. He openly glares at Hongjoong.

Guilt curls in Yeosang’s stomach. Hongjoong is just doing what is right for his crew. He doesn’t deserve Wooyoung’s anger.

Hongjoong takes a shaky breath. “Wooyoung—”

“Let’s take a vote.” Wooyoung cuts him off, eyes sliding off him, “Who believes that Yeosang, an ex-RHS donor, should get to make his own choice and stay on board.”

“Wooyoung.” Seonghwa frowns. “You need to hear Hongjoong out.”

Wooyoung turns his glare on him, “You—”

Seonghwa holds out a hand. “I’m not saying we need to force him to go back to the defense department, but there are other options—”

“Like what?” Wooyoung’s voice is fierce. Yeosang flinches. He doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want this anger and upset.

Seonghwa’s eyes narrow, “There are safe houses – my sire could hide him—”

“And then what? He spends the rest of his life hidden away? And if the military finds him? What then? Would we even know?”

Seonghwa opens his mouth to refute, but Hongjoong holds up a hand.

“And what do you want, Wooyoung? What will you do if our ship is flagged for an inspection and they find him? Will you give up the whole crew for him? For what? Your conscience?”

“You’re just scared!” Wooyoung lets go of his hand, stepping angrily towards Hongjoong.

“You should be scared!” Hongjoong shouts back, “Or do you not remember what happened to Minjae? To Sumin?”

Wooyoung’s face crumbles, “How dare you—”

Yunho is there in an instant. He pulls Wooyoung into his shoulder, glaring at Hongjoong. “Too far, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s face wavers.

“Yeosang?” Jongho asks tentatively. “Do you – is being a part of this crew something you actually want?”

Selfish.

It is selfish. So selfish, but…

“I…I want to stay.” Yeosang’s voice is thin. “I…I’m sorry…I don’t want to endanger anyone.”

Wooyoung pulls away from Yunho. His eyes are a little watery as he smiles at Yeosang and interlaces their fingers back together.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa’s face is unreadable, “We should vote.”

Hongjoong nods, short.

“Those in favor of Yeosang staying?”

Wooyoung’s hand shoots up, followed by San, Jongho, and – most tentatively – Mingi.

Yeosang’s stomach shifts. It’s the majority, but only just.

“Okay…Okay.” Hongjoong takes a shaky breath, “Jongho, can you go into town and stock up on our supplies?”

Jongho nods at once. He gives an apologetic bow to Hongjoong before rushing out the door.

“No one else leaves the ship.” Hongjoong pushes past Yeosang and Wooyoung. “Wooyoung, San, Yeosang, stay here until I give the all clear. The rest of you, with me. We’re preparing for departure – we’ll leave as soon as Jongho gets back.”

Yeosang can’t see his face, but it’s obvious he’s upset. Guilt curls in Yeosang’s stomach. He remembers the light tones of their voices as they planned their evening. He’d taken that from him. From all of them.

The door bangs loudly as Hongjoong leaves, Seonghwa, Yunho, and Mingi right behind him. Yeosang stares miserably at the floor. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just held it in.

And then Wooyoung takes his hand, ducking down to meet his eyes. He smiles. It’s such a warm smile.

“Welcome to the crew.”

Tears spring to Yeosang’s eyes.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Wooyoung wipes them away, “I know it’s a lot.”

“Hongjoong will come around,” San adds. He gently moves Yeosang’s hair out of his face. “He’s always nervous when someone new joins the crew.”

“You should’ve seen him when Yunho turned San,” Wooyoung says conspiratorily, “Thought he was going to leave both of them behind.”

Yunho turned San? Yeosang’s mouth drops open.

“You’re going to scare him.” San smacks Wooyoung. He turns to Yeosang, face pinched with concern, “Don’t worry. We’re not in the habit of creating vampires – Yunho just felt bad – and I consented!”

“‘Felt bad,’” Wooyoung scoffs, “A pretty boy gave Yunho flowers and then the pretty boy got torn up by vampires.”

“Wooyoung.” San whines.

“And we’re all very happy about it.” Wooyoung presses his cheek playfully against San’s, “Our miracle.”

It softens something in San and he turns more towards Wooyoung, brushing their noses against each other and leaning in for a soft kiss.

Yeosang, caught between them, blushes bright red. He coughs and squirms in Wooyoung’s arms. His ears are burning.

San jumps back, but Wooyoung just giggles.

“Here, come watch me play Towers of Z.” Wooyoung drags Yeosang down onto the couch while San flounders, face bright red. He whips his datapad out from his pocket.

Yeosang lets himself lean against the couch. Close to Wooyoung, but not touching. San comes to sit on Wooyoung’s other side, still grumbling.

It’s peaceful like that. Just the sound of Wooyoung’s game and the slight rock of the boat. Yeosang’s eyes start to drift close. He doesn’t want to sleep. He may never get another chance to watch Wooyoung like this. He doubts he’ll come play games in the medical bay.

Knock. Knock.

The soft knock jolts him back into reality.

“Hongjoong says you can leave now. We’re far enough out.” It’s Yunho, head peeking out from behind the door. His voice is quiet, uncertain.

Yeosang’s stomach sinks.

“Amazing.” Wooyoung jumps up. “Up you get.”

Yeosang’s limbs are like lead, but he forces himself to stand. He sways a little.

San places a hand at his back. “You good?”

Yeosang nods with a smile he hopes is at least somewhat convincing. Wooyoung is waiting for them at the door, watching curiously. Yeosang hurries to catch up with him.

Yunho lightly touches his arm as he passes, stopping him in his tracks.

“Welcome aboard.” Yunho gives him a small smile.

Yeosang stares at him.

“Come on.” Wooyoung pulls him away. The look he gives Yunho is strange. Almost like he’s…mad at him?

Yunho flinches, “Wooyoung, I’m—”

Wooyoung ignores him, closing the door in Yunho’s face. He turns with a huff down the hall. “Wooyoung, wait!” San calls after him. Yeosang hovers a bit behind, torn between keeping up and keeping a respectable distance. “Don’t be too mad at him – you know how important Hongjoong is to him.”

“Hongjoong’s scared and Yunho knows that.” Wooyoung says angrily. “But not taking in Yeosang won’t make us any safer.”

“Wooyoung.” San sighs.

The infirmary is on their left. His new home. Yeosang slows, stopping a few paces from the door and keeping his eyes down. But Wooyoung and San don’t stop. They don’t unlock the door. They don’t try to to usher him inside.

“It only makes us like them, San!” Wooyoung spins to look at San, “What’s the point of all this if we’re no better than them?”

Maybe he’s supposed to just go in by himself? He is highly trained. They might trust his training enough to believe he can put himself away.

“You know it’s not like that.”

He stares at the door. Torn between trying it and waiting for clearer instructions.

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asks sharply. He’s not looking at San, though. Instead, his eyes sear into Yeosang.

Surprised, Yeosang says, “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“To be let into the medical bay.” Yeosang says it slowly. “Or should I just go in?”

“You’re hurt?” Wooyoung’s eyes widen. San’s hands are on him immediately, searching for a mystery injury.

“No, no!” Yeosang winces, “I’m fine, it’s just…where I’m supposed to be?”

Wooyoung’s face falls. “Oh, Yeosang…no.”

San grimaces, “Let’s go up above deck?”

Back up above deck?

“I’ll grab a blanket! We can have a little picnic.”

Yeosang stares at them, “What…?”

“Come on,” San gives him a deep dimpled smile.

And he leads him up the stairs – back to where the sky stretches unending above them. The ocean is calm. It makes Yeosang a bit uneasy.

“Don’t worry about sirens. We’re too close to land still.” San sits down on the deck, gesturing for Yeosang to follow him.

“You can’t see many stars but you can always see the planets on a clear night.” San points to the sky. “That’s Venus. And there’s Jupiter.”

Yeosang follows his finger. He’s pointing to a few bright lights in the sky. Brighter than the stars. Planets.

They seem almost magical. Shining so brightly.

Something soft drops onto his shoulders. He tilts his head back until he sees Wooyoung’s face. The vampire gives him a soft smile, running his hands comfortingly down his arms. Wooyoung sits down on Yeosang’s other side.

It’s quiet for a moment before Wooyoung speaks, “Yeosang…you’re a person.”

“Yes?” Wooyoung seems sad and Yeosang can’t figure out why. “I am a person? I know that.”

“You said you’re supposed to be in the medical bay.” Wooyoung says carefully. “Why did you say that?”

Yeosang frowns, “I’m a medical supply. That’s where I belong.”

There’s a strange silence. Both Wooyoung and San look upset, faces shuttering.

Yeosang bites his lip. He doesn’t know why they’re reacting this way. Guilt, maybe? He’s never known vampires to feel guilty about drinking from him. It’s his purpose, it’s what he’s there for.

“And I’d be really happy to stay there.” He tries, hoping to assuage their worries, “Your medical bay is very nice—”

“Yeosang, no.” Wooyoung cuts him off, “When I say you’re a person, I mean you’re not a medical supply.”

Yeosang cocks his head to the side.

Wooyoung winces, “We didn’t accept you onto our crew to drink from you.”

That can’t be right. What other reason would they have to keep him aboard?

“I’d be okay with it!” Yeosang rushes to say. There’s an uncertain panic rising in his chest. “I would! I’d be happy to.”

San jumps in, his eyes are wide, “We would never ask that of you!”

But…but…it’s what he is. It’s what he’s been created for. He looks back and forth between Wooyoung and San. Both are watching him closely. They seem…sincere.

“But, if you don’t, then why am I here?” His voice comes out small.

Wooyoung makes a wounded sound.

“You’re here just because you’re you.” San gives him a sad smile. “And you deserve to be here.”

Notes:

thanks for reading! as always, feel free to come hang out on twitter!

Chapter 7

Notes:

two weeks late i'm so sorry — i start these fics in the summer bc i get so excited for them around yeosang's birthday and then i forget how busy summer actually is!

on the plus side, i saw ateez a few weeks ago and they were SO GOOD and yeosang was so cute like he's really having the time of his life this tour :')

enjoy! we're in the ~middle now!

Year 290 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2708 by the calendar of the Old World

“You deserve to be here.”

Yeosang presses his body against the railing, watching the moonlight dance over the waves. Every member of the crew has a purpose, a reason they deserve to be on board. To see the sun and sleep in a nice bed.

He has a purpose too. He does. To feed vampires. To keep them alive on the field.

He’s already gone against his purpose, the very reason he was created. All because he was too selfish to go back to windowless rooms. The guilt curls in his stomach and he knows what would make it go away.

But San and Wooyoung won’t drain him. He can see it in their determined eyes. They won’t accept that he exists to be drained. But without it, he has nothing to offer them. Nothing to give back for the sky and the food and the bed and their kindness.

“You’re here just because you’re you.”

Yeosang glances back. Wooyoung and San sit comfortably on the blanket, murmuring something between them. Their faces break out into happy smiles when they catch him looking. He can’t make sense of it.

The door to the lower levels opens. Seonghwa steps out into the pale moonlight. Exhaustion hangs from his frame, weighing down his shoulders.

It shouldn’t be like this.

If Yeosang had just managed to keep it together long enough to be returned to the military, the crew would be getting a nice dinners and exploring the market at Nocorane and watching movies. They'd be eating popcorn and playing until they were so tired they had to go to bed. Instead, they’re working overtime. Sailing away from the city as fast as they can.

“Yeosang.” Seonghwa interrupts softly. “Hongjoong would like to talk to you.”

Dread curls in Yeosang’s stomach. Hongjoong. He especially ruined things for Hongjoong.

Wooyoung bristles, “What about?”

“Nothing bad,” He gives Wooyoung a strained smile. “He just wants to welcome Yeosang to the crew.”

“Welcome?” Wooyoung asks skeptically.

Seonghwa sighs, walking further out onto the deck. “He wants to assess where Yeosang will fit best, what skills he has, what training he might need.”

Yeosang winces, “I don’t…”

He hasn’t been trained to be so much as the lowest of sailors. His only use to the crew is as a donor.

But…maybe Hongjoong knows his best use is that of a donor? And wants to talk about how he can give blood for the crew? Maybe Wooyoung and San won’t drink from him, but he can still give blood. He always preferred to be drained indirectly rather than bitten. Maybe he can give blood and live outside of the medical bay. It seems almost too good to be true.

“He doesn’t need to do anything.” Wooyoung stands, positioning himself between Yeosang and Seonghwa. “Not right now.”

Yeosang winces. He wants to help.

“Wooyoung.” Seonghwa starts.

“I-I want to be useful to the crew,” Yeosang darts around Wooyoung. He stops in front of Seonghwa and bows his head politely. “I’ll meet with him.”

“Yeosang.” Wooyoung says, voice firm. “We are not going to drain you.”

Yeosang glances at him. “I want to be useful.”

“Oh, no, we’re not going to drain you.” Seonghwa says, alarmed, “Nothing like that.”

Yeosang looks up. Seonghwa’s being genuine. He doesn’t think they will drain him. Frustration bubbles under his skin. This is his purpose. Why don’t they understand?

“We’re just going to see about training you up to see where you’ll fit into the crew best.” Seonghwa misinterprets his silence. “You’ll be safe.”

“But—” He cuts himself off. Donors should never argue with vampires. He takes a small breath and drops his eyes back to the ground. “Okay.”

It’s a little too short, a little rude, but they don’t react angrily. Instead, he feels Seonghwa relax.

“Good.” Seonghwa says, “Hongjoong’s still in his office – last door at the end of the hall.”

Yeosang nods.

“I’m coming with.” Wooyoung adds. Yeosang looks back at him in alarm, but Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, daring him to argue.

“Me too!” San jumps up, diffuses the tension. “We know you need more training with the sword after all.”

He gives Yeosang a wink, but Yeosang winces. He’d forgotten. He lied to San. Blatantly, and with no good reason. Donors should never lie.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Oh? Why?” San cocks his head to the side. He's so open. Trusting. It makes Yeosang's heart hurt. 

“I lied…donors don’t lie.” Yeosang drops his eyes back to the ground. But they’re only there for a moment before gentle fingers are under his chin, tilting his face back up.

“Donors might not lie, but humans do.” San says with a soft smile. “I forgive you.”

Heat rises to his cheeks and Yeosang pulls away.

“Right.” Seongwha interrupts, though there’s a small smile on his face. “Off you go then.”

Yeosang shoots him a sheepish smile and gives a jerky half-bow. As he turns to leave, Seonghwa grabs Wooyoung’s arm.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa’s voice is barely more than a whisper. “Be gentle with him.”

Wooyoung frowns.

“Please.”

“He’s just scared.” Wooyoung’s voice is low, his face pinched.

“I know.” Seonghwa says, “That’s why you need to be gentle.”

Wooyoung searches Seonghwa’s face, though Yeosang doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Finally, he nods.

“I’ll try.”

Seonghwa releases his arm, “That’s all I can ask.”

Wooyoung nods. When he turns back to Yeosang, he smiles brightly.

“What’re you standing there for?” He says. “Let’s go!”

Wooyoung loops one arm through San’s and another through Yeosang’s and drags them down the stairs. It’s a tight fit and they almost tumble into the hall, off balance.

“Lead the way, Yeosang.” Wooyoung says. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Yeosang’s not quite sure if he’s comforted by that or not, but he can’t ask them to stay behind. So he gives Wooyoung an uncertain smile and walks down the hall to the office. The ocean is still and the floor barely shifts, but he still feels a bit off balance.

Before he can think too hard about it, he knocks on the office door. Three sure taps.

“Come in.” Hongjoong’s voice is muffled.

San and Wooyoung give him comforting smiles as he pushes the door open. Hongjoong’s sitting behind his desk, a datapad and notebook in front of him. Yeosang eyes the notebook curiously. It’s an old-fashioned one. He didn’t think they were still made anymore.

“Figured you two would come.” Hongjoong says with a tired smile. “Please, sit.”

He gestures to the chairs drawn up in front of him. Three. Hongjoong really must have anticipated Wooyoung and San would come.

Yeosang perches gently on the center one, back straight and hands in his lap.

“I want to make sure you know what you’ve signed up for.” Hongjoong leans forward. “If our mission goes against your own moral compass, or you can’t leave your past behind, I will not return you. We will write to Seonghwa’s sire and he will find a home for you. A safe home.”

Yeosang shifts uncertainly, but he nods.

“This crew operates outside the scope of legality.” Hongjoong says, “Not far, but distinctly separate from the military. Are you okay with that?”

Yeosang frowns. The military is a force for good. They keep the people and vampires of the Upyri Republic safe.

“You grew up in the military.” Hongjoong seems to read his mind. “I understand that. But to be a part of the crew, you need to be okay leaving it behind.”

“I don’t understand,” Yeosang says. It's against his training to question, but the Council is good. “Why would you go against the Council?”

“The military can’t be everywhere at once. Some villages need help with small sea monsters but the military has to focus on larger rebellion operations.” Hongjoong answers. “We like to have the freedom to go where we want and help where we can.”

That…doesn’t really make sense. Surely the High Council would be happy to direct independent fighters to protect small villages?

Wooyoung shifts next to him, but he doesn’t say anything. He won’t meet Yeosang’s eyes. San won’t either, his own gaze pinched and at the ground. Yeosang’s been on the outside of enough debriefs to know when something’s being kept from him. They’re hiding something.

“Yeosang?” Hongjoong probes, “Is that something you can handle?”

“Can’t we have a trial period or something?” Wooyoung interjects, “Some more time for him to get to know who we are, how we operate?”

“Don’t let your guilt cloud your judgement, Wooyoung.” Hongjoong says icily. “To be a part of this crew, you need to be willing to go against the rules of the High Council.”

His eyes slide to San.

“As you well know.”

San. San who would be killed if the High Council found out he existed. If the military found out he existed.

Yeosang owes his existence to the military. He owes his old unit; he failed to save them. But…he can’t let San die. This crew saved his life. He owes them a debt that can never be repaid. But, more than that, he doesn’t want to see San dead. He can’t bear to think of San’s eyes dull and lifeless.

“I’ll do it.” His voice is surprisingly firm. “I’ll work with you.”

Hongjoong scans his face as though testing his sincerity before nodding.

“Good. With you on board, we’re going to hold off on taking commissions and head for the Gabriel Isles.” Hongjoong taps systematically on his datapad until a blue hologram showing their route pops up in front of them. “In the meantime, I expect you’ll need to get up on the basics of running a ship.”

He glances back at Yeosang, an eyebrow raised. Yeosang nods, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“San will teach you longsword. Wooyoung, short range weapons.” Hongjoong dismisses the map with a wave of his hand and turns to the two vampires. “I trust you two to manage his schedule. When he’s not with you, Mingi will teach him basic navigation and Jongho can incorporate him into ship chores.”

“Shouldn’t we give him more time?” San asks hesitantly. “Work up to it?”

“No.” Yeosang says quickly. He wants to be useful, and if they won’t feed from him, he’ll find another way. “I want to be a part of the crew.”

Hongjoong gives him an appraising look. And then, he smiles. Yeosang’s nearly leans back in surprise. The grin is boyish, mischievous. Far from the stern, tired captain Hongjoong has been.

“Good.” Hongjoong pushes himself back from his desk. He seems lighter now. “Wooyoung and San will get you settled in, I’m sure. You’ll need to keep rooming with Seonghwa and Wooyoung for now.”

“Thank you, sir.” Yeosang stands. He dips into a bow. It’s a gift. To stay onboard, to room with the others. He won’t take it lightly.

But Hongjoong doesn’t accept it. Yeosang looks up in confusion, halfway between standing and bowing. The look on Hongjoong’s face…is it guilt? Anger?

“Let’s go.” Wooyoung says gently, taking his hand and pulling him away. “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong shakes himself slightly, eyes clearing.

“I’ll expect status reports from both of you. Daily.” He half-shouts as they leave.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung waves it away.

“Wooyoung—”

“We will, Captain.” San jumps in with a wink. He closes the office door behind him before Hongjoong can respond.

“He’s going to get you for that.” Wooyoung jokes.

“Me? You’re going to be getting latrine cleaning for the next month at the rate you’re going.” San shoves him.

Yeosang winces. He can take that chore – he should take that chore, after all Wooyoung’s done for him. But just as he’s about to offer, Wooyoung slings his arm around his waist, bumping their hips together and sending Yeosang off balance.

“Eh, worth it.”

His pullout is back out when they get back to the room. Someone has made the bed neatly and plumped the pillows. The bag the crew had prepared for him to take back is sitting in the center.

“Oh.” The sigh leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

“It’s not much, but it’s just for now.” Wooyoung says, “We’ll get you more things when we go to market next – it’ll be awhile before Hongjoong will let you off the ship, but in the meantime, we can get whatever you want!”

Yeosang sits down on the bed, pulling the bag onto his lap. He squeezes it tightly. It’s his.

“I don’t need anything else.”

“You—”

San places a hand on Wooyoung’s arm with a shake of his head. He sits carefully next to Yeosang. Wooyoung sits on Yeosang’s other side. It’s warm like this. Their bodies don’t give off any warmth but it’s still…warm.

“Try one of the cookies.” San says gently. “They’ll go stale if you wait too long.”

Yeosang can feel Wooyoung’s confusion, but he opens the bag. The cookies are still there, near the top. Only a few edges have crumbled off.

Yeosang takes a bite of the cookie. The sugar and chocolate melt on his tongue. It’s delicious. But it can barely make it past the lump in his throat.

–

“Yeosang! It’s time for training!” Wooyoung’s voice jolts through his subconscious.

Yeosang blearily opens his eyes. Wooyoung is hovering right over him. The sun has barely started to rise, light pink beams falling across Wooyoung’s face. He’s ready for the day already, dressed in a soft black tee and worn black jeans with silver rings adorning his hands.

Yeosang fights the urge to take his hand and look closer at the shining metal.

Wooyoung pulls him up by the shoulders. “Up you get.”

Yeosang pouts, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“None of that.” Wooyoung laughs, “You can’t cute your way out of this.”

Yeosang tilts his head. Cute?

“San left training clothes for you.” Wooyoung continues, pulling the blankets away from him. “Go get changed and I’ll take care of this for you. Seonghwa requires a clean bedroom.”

Yeosang stumbles out of bed, mind struggling to keep up. There are clothes in the bathroom. Unlike the flowy fabrics he’s been wearing, San has left him an athletic tank top and matching black pants.

Yeosang pulls them on and splashes water against his face to try to wake himself up. It’s far earlier than his normal schedule.

He examines himself in the mirror. The clothes are loose on him, he has to pull the drawstring of the pants tighter to get them to stay up. His hair’s the biggest problem though. Long and unkempt, he’d assumed it’d be cut when he was returned to the military, but now…

He sighs and pushes it behind his ears. He doesn’t see any hair ties out on the counter and he doesn’t want to invade their privacy but rummaging through the cabinets.

“Oh good, they fit.” Wooyoung says when he comes out. The vampire circles him, examining. “Well, it’s a little big, but San insisted he’s closest in size to you.”

He eyes Yeosang’s hair, frowning, “One second.”

Wooyoung disappears into the bathroom. There’s a bit of rummaging and then he returns, hair tie in hand.

“Bun or ponytail?” He asks.

“Um, ponytail?” Yeosang responds.

Wooyoung pulls Yeosang’s hair back, tying it up, “For training, it’s best to keep it up, I don’t want it getting caught on anything.”

Yeosang nods.

“It’s really pretty, a bit messy though.” Wooyoung wrangles with the curls, “We could clean it up, if you’d like?”

Yeosang nods quickly, “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Wooyoung smiles, stepping back in front of him, “Seonghwa’s the expert, we’ll talk to him later.”

Yeosang bows his head. Then, a thought occurs to him.

“Wooyoung?”

“Hm?” Wooyoung messes with the front of his hair. Though Yeosang has no idea what he could be doing, he kind of likes the feeling.

“Does your hair keep growing after you’re turned?”

Wooyoung laughs, a surprised, shouting sound. “Yes! It’d be pretty sad if we were stuck with the hair we had when we were turned.”

Yeosang blushes, looking away.

“Hey, none of that.” Wooyoung smiles brightly, “You just surprised me. It’s a good question.”

Yeosang peeks back up at him. There’s no deception in Wooyoung’s face.

“Now, time for training!”

Wooyoung leads him up to the forward deck. There’s already a set of daggers, a mix of wood and metal, laid out on a leathery cloth. The rest of the deck is empty. The ship's wheel turns back and forth, little adjustments to keep the ship on course.

“Your daggerwork is foundational.” Wooyoung tosses him a wooden dagger. “San might say the longsword, but he’s wrong. To be proficient with a dagger means you’ll be able to keep yourself safe. A longsword is great for attacking and killing vampires, but a dagger can help fend one off even if they’re at your neck.”

Yeosang flinches. Phantom teeth gnaw at his neck.

“First, set your stance.” Wooyoung moves his feet into place, one slightly forward, one slightly back. Not unlike his stance for the longsword. “Now, we’re just going to work on two things today. Large angled cuts and quick thrusts.”

Wooyoung steps back and demonstrates some quick movements; blade moving so fast that Yeosang can only see a blur.

“Now, you—”

Wooyoung's voice fades, unreadable eyes looking over Yeosang's shoulder. Yeosang turns around. It's Yunho, coming up for the day. He’s dressed up more than Wooyoung, with a brown vest over a linen tunic and canvas pants. He’s scrolling through his datapad.

Yeosang hasn’t quite figured out what he does on the ship, but he almost never sees him without his datapad. He must hold an important role. Yunho catches sight of them immediately and raises his hand in a cautious wave. Yeosang returns it with a small smile, but Wooyoung just turns around.

“Ignore him.”

Yeosang watches Yunho’s face fall.

“What?” Yeosang turns back to Wooyoung. Wooyoung’s jaw is clenched, his eyes narrow.

“He wanted to leave you there.” Is all Wooyoung says.

Yeosang looks back at Yunho. His ears are red and he hurries away, ducking into the captain’s quarters under the quarterdeck. Wooyoung’s anger is strange. He hadn’t been nearly as mad at Seonghwa or even Hongjoong.

“Dagger up.” Wooyoung’s command breaks through his thoughts. The vampire’s gaze is steely.

He gulps. It’s like a switch has gone off in Wooyoung. His carefree energy replaced by strict eyes and a sharp tongue. Yeosang readies himself. He’s spent his life training under the gaze of strict handlers. This is no different. He brings his dagger up, rearranging his feet to match how Wooyoung had set him up.

“Good.” Wooyoung nods, “Now a large slash – from your shoulder to your hip.”

Yeosang tries to mimic the movement, but the blade is far lighter than he thought and his effort throws him off balance.

“Feet a bit wider apart, try again.” Wooyoung says. Yeosang quickly brings the blade up again, but Wooyoung holds up a hand. “No. You’re treating it like a sword. Imagine it’s just your hand.”

Yeosang rearranges his stance until Wooyoung gives him an approving nod. He slashes down, but Wooyoung hits his wrist with the side of his hand, disarming him instantly.

“The dagger is part of your hand, Yeosang.” Wooyoung reprimands. “It should be no easier for me to disarm you than it would be for me to cut off your hand. Try without the blade.”

Yeosang sets the training dagger gently to the side and curls his fingers into a fist. He tries to bring it down the same way. It feels even more wrong somehow and Wooyoung tsks.

“Again.”

Yeosang tries, but now it feels weak. Like he doesn’t have the energy, the power behind the movements that Wooyoung had.

“Again.”

Eyebrows pinched, Yeosang puts as much energy as he can behind his cuts. It’s too much and he almost falls forward.

“Again.”

Frustration bubbles inside him. He’s not sure what he’s doing wrong. But if Wooyoung doesn't have any corrections, he must be doing something wrong.

“Again.”

Yeosang takes a steadying breath. Donors don’t question vampires. Donors listen. He slashes through the air as best he can.

“Better, again.”

His relief is short-lived. He runs the drill again and again, but Wooyoung doesn’t seem satisfied. Yeosang tries over and over until his legs shake and his arm feels completely out of his control.

“Once more.”

His lungs burn – he hasn’t been able to exercise in years – but he takes a shuddering breath and lunges forward with a slash. It’s too uncoordinated and Yeosang trips and careens into the deck, catching himself with his hands. He pants. Sweat drips from his brow.

“Lets leave it here for today.” Wooyoung sighs. “I’ll tell San you need time to rest.”

Yeosang winces. He’d done that badly then.

“...It’s okay.” Wooyoung says, words stilted, “Self defense is the most important skill you can build. We’ll work on it until you have the basics down.”

Yeosang sits back on his knees. “I…”

“Plus, I have latrines to clean.” Wooyoung adds, “I’ll leave the wood daggers for you to practice with, if you feel up for it.”

Wooyoung looks like he wants to say something else, but he shakes himself slightly and leaves. He's a blur as he disappears back below deck.

Yeosang collapses back, eyes up to the sky. He tries to let the great expanse comfort him. Erase the disappointment in Wooyoung’s eyes. The clouds today are fluffy and white. They drift slowly, there’s almost no breeze to push them along.

“Brutal, right?” Mingi’s head pops into his vision. He’s carrying a covered dish, an easy smile on his face.

Yeosang frowns, “I’m not very good yet.”

“He’s a perfectionist, don’t let it get you down.” Mingi holds out his spare hand to Yeosang. He takes it begrudgingly.

“Here,” Mingi drops down next to him, holding out the dish. “I brought you lunch. I haven’t had a reason to cook in decades, so hopefully it’s edible.”

Yeosang cautiously opens up the lid. Immediately, the smell hits him – it smells good. Chicken and rice and vegetables in a thick sauce with a small bowl of kimchi on the side.

“We don’t often have fresh meat on board, but Jongho wanted you to have it.”

“Thank you.” He says, voice reverent.

Yeosang takes a bite and the flavors explode on his tongue. It’s richer than anything he’s ever had before. Wooyoung has been focusing on simple foods since they rescued him, but this is addictive. He quickly shovels more food into his mouth.

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Mingi laughs, “It’s not going anywhere.”

Yeosang sheepishly listens.

“Glad you like it though,” Mingi says. “Maybe Wooyoung and I should hold a competition now that we have a judge.”

Wooyoung. How is he going to make it up to him? Yeosang drops the spoon. Wooyoung went against his captain for him, Jongho got him special food, and Mingi spent time preparing it. And what has Yeosang done?

He wishes they’d just drink from him. He doesn’t know why they won’t.

Mingi seems to notice his frustration. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It takes time to learn these skills. And Wooyoung hasn’t taught a human how to fight since the Vampire Revolution.”

Yeosang tilts his head. From what he’d been taught, there were a few humans on the side of vampires, but not many.

“Do you know how the High Council was formed?” Mingi asks.

Yeosang nods, “Of course. After the Vampire Revolution, the military generals formed the Council and set about creating rules for the new Upyri Republic.”

“Ah, that’s the history the Council teaches.” Mingi says, “Actually, there was some disagreement at the time as to whether or not the High Council should have human representatives. Wooyoung fought for vampire rights as a human before he was turned, and then human rights after he was turned.”

Mingi plays with a rip in his jeans. “It was hard, I think. I don’t know the whole story, but I know he really tried.” He looks at Yeosang, “So, I think he sees you and thinks back to all the humans he couldn’t protect. And, no offense, but any vampire could kill you in a second if they wanted to. And that scares him.”

Yeosang nods. He doesn’t really understand. Humans have a good life, a relatively safe life, under the High Council. He supposes it makes sense that Wooyoung would be concerned for him though. It’s…nice.

“But, you’ll still need time to learn.” Mingi says, waving his hand, “That’s why we’re going to the Gabriel Isles. Oh, speaking of.”

Mingi takes out his datapad, “Hongjoong wanted me to give you a navigation overview.”

Yeosang resists the urge to lean over. Outside of games on Wooyoung’s datapad, he’s never really seen how they work.

“Everything happened so fast, we forgot to pick you up a datapad the other day, but when we get to Baital, we’ll be able to get you one.” Mingi says it like it’s nothing, but Yeosang’s mind turns to static. A…datapad? His own datapad?

A holocron shoots up from the pad, showing a simulated ocean, stars, and small arrows pointing along the path. Mingi gestures parts of the images and rotates the map, mouth moving, but Yeosang can barely hear him through the haze of his surprise.

Donors don’t get datapads. Under any circumstances.

“For now, I think all you need to know is how to use the automated functions.” Mingi continues. “We’ll work on how and when to override the system another day.”

“Yeosang?” Mingi probes when he doesn’t respond.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Are you listening?” Mingi asks.

“Yes.” Yeosang shakes himself. Why has this affected him so much? This crew refuses to drink from him and are training him to fight. It shouldn’t be so surprising that they’d hand him a datapad.

Mingi raises an eyebrow, “Okay. The system is fairly automated – you can just type in a destination and hit go. It can be synced with the actual ship but I’ve disconnected them for now so you can play with it.”

Mingi dismisses the holocron. “I don’t need this until later, you can play with it for now. Password’s 2319.” Mingi stands up, brushing off his pants. He takes Yeosang’s half-eaten plate, “Just leave it on that crate when you’re done. I’ll take this to the kitchen for you to heat up later.”

“T-Thank you.” Yeosang stutters.

Mingi nods, “Take some time to adjust. You’ll need it.”

And then he leaves Yeosang alone. With his datapad. Like he…trusts him.

Yeosang will prove himself worthy of that trust.

He opens the datapad with determination, trying to ignore the crawl over his skin that screams that this is wrong. That he should only use holocrons for information.

It’s not different, he thinks. He’s not using the Attercoppe Terminal. He’s not looking through the files. He’s just using the navigation feature and Mingi left the datapad open to it. Yeosang is a good donor. He knows not to overstep his place.

His place has never included navigation before, but if it will now, he will excel at it.

Yeosang spends the afternoon tapping through the various navigation interfaces. He learns how the system uses the stars to provide a general sense of direction, how it pulls on information it must get from the Attercoppe Terminal to narrow down the direction. He plays with the views, noting how the compass changes and the route changes visually.

He doesn’t put it away until his eyes are watering from staring at the laser images for too long and the sun has started to set behind the waves.

His stomach rumbles insistently. Yeosang looks around the deck but he doesn’t see anyone. If the crew had come and gone throughout the day he must have missed them, too caught up in the maps.

He bites his lip, uncertain. Could he just…go below? Mingi had said that he was taking the food Yeosang hadn’t eaten back to the kitchen to be reheated later.

It must be Yeosang’s responsibility to go heat up the food. It makes sense. He can’t rely on the crew to constantly feed him and shepherd him around, but…it feels wrong. To walk around the ship by himself, to open cabinets and fridges to look for food and use their microwave to heat it up. All without direct permission.

He needs to do it though. It’s what they want.

Yeosang dismisses the map and gently lays the datapad on the crate.

He bids a quiet goodbye to the sky and makes his way to the kitchen. There’s still no one around, strangely, and he feels a sense of unease. Until he starts to push the door to the kitchen open and hears voices. He pauses.

“—can take a few commissions.” It’s Yunho’s voice. “There’s a small one from Vetala. Should be easy.”

“I just don’t know, with Yeosang on board.” Hongjoong’s voice responds. He sighs, “I don’t want to bring him on commission. He’s not ready.”

“I know.” Yunho says, “But Hongjoong, what should I say? There’s no one else to help.”

“I know that.” Hongjoong’s voice snaps. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. I just, I want to be able to help them, but…”

“I know.”

“Taking him on was the right thing to do.” Hongjoong says. “But—”

Yeosang’s hand slips from the door handle and he backs up until he meets the wall. He knows he’s an inconvenience like this, but he doesn’t want to hold them back. He doesn’t want to be useless. He doesn’t have to be useless, he doesn’t have to drag them down. He was designed for them. He’s the perfect asset.

Why won’t they drink from me? He doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand.

They don’t want him. Not as he was made.

Tears prickle against his eyes. The rejection stings.

He’ll have to become an asset in a different way.

The lingering exhaustion in his muscles doesn’t matter. The way his stomach rumbles doesn’t matter. He won’t hold them back.

He had years to become the perfect donor, but he can’t take years to become the perfect member of this ship. He can’t.

Determined, Yeosang goes down into the belly of the ship, to the storage room. There’s plenty of room inside and it’s deep in the ship. He won’t keep anyone from sleeping down here — and he shouldn’t have to worry about any sea monsters. He hopes.

Yeosang pulls out the wooden training dagger Wooyoung left with him. The balance still feels off, but he grasps the handle firmly. He goes slowly at first, going for the biggest movements. Wide slashes that feel uncontrollable as he puts too much energy behind them.

It feels a little better with each attempt but fatigue screams at his muscles. He hasn’t trained in years. He tries to lunge forward and his ankle twists underneath him. Pain shoots up the side of his leg and he crashes to his knees.

Yeosang pants through the pain. Frustration coursing through him. He can’t do this. He wasn’t made to do this. He throws the dagger across the room with a cry.

It clanks harmlessly against one of the strangely marked barrels.

Notes:

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