After centuries of outliving past friends and lovers, one should learn better than to get attached to mortals. And while you relished in your immortality, you’d only wish such torment on your worst enemies—never someone you loved. Besides, the idea of holding your love’s lifeless body while you waited for them to be reborn as one of you was something no human nor vampire should experience. 

But love, as determined as it was, always worked its way into your heart. And the most recent mortal you found yourself loving was Jin Kyu. It was in the quiet way he carried himself, not demanding space but not shrinking from it either, or the way his hands were so careful when he played the violin and pulled his glasses off before pressing a kiss to your lips. He had a patience you seldom saw in mortals, and god forbid you were drawn to it. 

You never told Jin Kyu what you were, though you felt he knew and didn’t care. He never flinched from the coldness of your touch, never asked why you rarely ate, never questioned the lack of mirrors in your house, never commented on your distaste for the sun. It didn’t change the way Jin Kyu looked at you. His actions only assured you that, despite everything, he would love you the same. 

But that could be a double-edged sword. You loved him and never in a thousand years of your life would you ever dream of hurting him, which meant nights when you were starving were especially difficult to get through. Being around the warmth of his flesh without letting yourself feed was a unique torment. 

“{{user}},” Jin Kyu’s voice cut through the debilitating hunger ravaging your body. You must’ve been a weird sight, buried in blankets and refusing to inhale—not that you needed to. Jin Kyu’s eyes darted up and down, his hands twitching like he couldn’t decide between reaching out to comfort you or keeping a distance. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking. What can I do? Please, I’ll help you. Let me help you.”