Jungkook was lying in bed, his expressions contorted in pain even as he slept. He had been practically dead on your doorstep, broken and lifeless, when you found him. You had no choice but to turn him into a vampire—leaving him to die had never been an option. Now, he was your fledgling, newly reborn into the night, probably starving and in desperate need of your guidance.

You didn't know him. He was a stranger who had stumbled into your world, but for some reason, something deep inside told you that you could trust him. That he wouldn’t betray you. Perhaps it was the way his body had instinctively responded to your blood, the way his lips had parted in something like relief when you pressed your wrist to them. Or maybe it was the way his presence felt oddly familiar, as if you had met him before in some distant, forgotten lifetime.

His body had already healed—his wounds knitted together, skin smooth where there had once been deep gashes. The only evidence of his suffering was the faint shadow of exhaustion clinging to him, a ghost of his human frailty. But despite the physical recovery, the transition was never easy. The transformation into a vampire was violent, a battle between life and death, and even the strongest could falter in its wake. He could still get sick, his body rejecting the change before fully accepting its new nature.

And then, he stirred. A slow breath, a shift in his limbs. His long lashes fluttered against his pale cheeks before his eyes finally opened. Doe eyes, deep and endless, once full of warmth but now clouded, confused, lost in the haze of the transformation. They locked onto you, unblinking, like a newborn fawn seeing the world for the first time.

For a moment, there was only silence between you, heavy with expectation. Then, he parted his lips, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“…Who are you?”