Chapter Text
August, 1543
Joseon
Dongmyeong, on tiptoe, peered over the wall surrounding the huge hanok. Trying to go through the gate would be too noisy. Giwook had told him how it dragged on the cobbles. It was locked for the night anyway. Dongmyeong backed up into the street. If he got a running start, he could probably make it over, right? Right. He had dressed for travel, not fashion, so he certainly had the mobility. With one deep breath, Dongmyeong took off running towards the wall. He planted one foot on it, slapping his hands down on the top and pushing with all his might. And then he just sat there for a moment, atop the wall in the moonlight. Joseon was a pretty place.
When he was done admiring his surroundings, Dongmyeong dropped down on the other side of the wall. Now, technically, he was in someone’s house. He snuck through, low and quiet, to a door. Firelight illuminated the inside of the room, glowing through the paper windows. “Giwook!” he hissed as he slipped his shoes off by the door. “I’m here.”
“Lover,” came the response from within the room. “Just… just come in.”
Dongmyeong slipped inside. Though the family was wealthy, and though Giwook was their only son, they’d given him a tiny room. Dongmyeong’s stockings slipped on the lacquered paper floor as he shuffled forward, past the burning lanterns that flanked the door. In the deepest part of the small room was a pale blue silk mat, stuffed fat with feathers. Lying upon that mat, in all his glory, was the boy Dongmyeong had come to see. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled forward, approaching the handsome young noble. Giwook was on his back in his sleep clothes, watching Dongmyeong crawl to him. “You know,” Dongmyeong whispered as he drew close, “my guardian says that in China, they call boys like us ‘cut-sleeves’ because we would rather snip off a piece of our own clothing than wake the one we love.”
“You know,” Giwook replied, reaching for Dongmyeong, “I’d sooner cut off a limb than disturb you while you sleep.”
Dongmyeong yearned forward, reaching out for the silky fabric that covered his lover’s form. Giwook caught his hand and pulled, urging Dongmyeong to come ever closer. Unless your mouth is on mine, you’re too far from me, Giwook had said the last time they met.
Dongmyeong knew this was ill-advised at best. Giwook’s father was a high-ranking government official. Giwook himself was supposed to be studying day and night for his exams to follow in his father’s footsteps. I distract you, Dongmyeong had told him, sadly pulling back from Giwook’s embrace.
No, you complete me, Giwook replied, holding tighter.
And that’s how Dongmyeong ended up here, sneaking into Giwook’s family’s hanok in the middle of the night for a tryst with their only boy child.
There was a great shuffling and rumpling of silks, fabrics pooling on the floor like rain. And then there was oil, slick and glistening, coating Giwook’s hand. Dongmyeong gasped softly, wishing to be that hand, ready and willing to replace it whenever Giwook felt ready for him. “Can I?” Dongmyeong whispered, moving to straddle Giwook’s hips.
“Mmm,” Giwook purred, nodding his head against the silk pillow beneath it. Dongmyeong sank down, and Giwook’s cock felt as hard and smooth as marble. In the dim light of the lanterns, Dongmyeong threw his head back, pearl white fangs pushing out as he impaled himself over and over again. Giwook wouldn’t be alarmed. He knew what Dongmyeong was, and he trusted him. Dongmyeong would never bite a person. He wasn’t allowed.
Their pace quickened, breaths heaving, beads of sweat rolling down their skin. Dongmyeong’s mouth watered. He moaned. “Shh,” Giwook hissed. “You don’t know who can hear us right now.”
“Sorry,” Dongmyeong gasped. “I just… Giwook…”
Dongmyeong came, dipping his head into the curve of Giwook’s neck and sinking his fangs into the soft flesh there.
Dongmyeong pulled Giwook along by the hand. They had to flee. Dongmyeong worried what would happen if either of them were still there when Giwook’s parents woke to discover all that blood staining the floor and soaking into the sleeping mat. He wasn’t allowed to do this. They weren’t making more vampires. There were nine of them already, and who knew how many in China and Mongolia.
Giwook dropped to all fours in the road, sobbing. The right side of his throat was caked in drying blood. “Come on,” Dongmyeong urged. He reached for Giwook again, but the young man swatted his hand away.
“They’ll think I’m dead, Dongmyeong!” he sobbed. “My parents will think someone snuck in and killed me.”
“They won’t be entirely wrong,” Dongmyeong mumbled. Giwook wailed. “Stop! Screaming! You’ll wake people all the way on the other side of the city if you keep that up. Don’t draw attention to us. I’m taking you someplace safe.” At least, I think we’ll be safe. “Come on.” Dongmyeong pulled Giwook to his feet and they ran.
They burst into the compound an hour later, panting and trembling. Dongmyeong made his way to Keonhee’s door and collapsed on the step. “Hyung,” he begged through the walls. “Help me.”
“Help you?” Keonhee’s voice carried through the door before he pulled it open, standing in the doorway in a half-open silk robe. “Help you what, exactly? Did you kill someone?”
“I turned someone,” Dongmyeong whispered. Keonhee’s gaze traveled over the younger man’s shoulder, resting on Giwook’s bloody form. “Hyung, help.”
“Oh, baby,” Keonhee breathed, his tone becoming gentle. He pulled his robe tighter around himself and cinched the tie, then approached Giwook. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Turning is scary, I know. It’s so traumatic. You’ll be okay. Hyung will take care of you. Now, strip.” He turned to Dongmyeong. “You did this. You help. Draw some water.”
Dongmyeong did as he was told, returning from the well with two heavy buckets. He’d also retrieved a soft cloth and a little soap. There wasn’t much, but they always needed soap to wash the stench of blood away.
Keonhee peeled Giwook’s clothes off gently. No use traumatizing him further. “It’ll be a little cold,” Dongmyeong said apologetically. Keonhee nodded.
“Yeah, but he’s turning,” Keonhee said. “He’ll barely feel the cold at this point.” He hoisted one of Dongmyeong’s buckets high and unceremoniously dumped most of its contents over Giwook’s head. Giwook curled up and shivered, nearly falling to his knees on the ground. “So, I was wrong,” Keonhee sighed. “I’m not the Great Physician. I’m just his assistant. Soap.”
“What’s going on out here?” a voice called. “Who’s out here?”
“Fuck,” Dongmyeong muttered. “Just us, hyung,” he called back.
Hyungu emerged from the shadows. “Who’s us?” he asked, eyeing the group suspiciously. “Who the hell is this?”
“Dongmyeong’s lover,” Keonhee said as he scrubbed fervently at the dried blood on Giwook’s skin. “They… had a little accident.”
“You turned someone?” Hyungu snarled. He drew his sword and stepped forward, pressing the blade against Dongmyeong’s throat. The younger man froze. “You know we’re not making more.”
“Hyung,” Dongmyeong whispered, feeling suddenly very conscious of the location of his Adam’s apple, “I didn’t mean to. I’m in love.”
“Love or not, Youngjo will have you beheaded,” Hyungu hissed. “And it’ll be my blade.”
A lone tear escaped, racing down Dongmyeong’s cheek. Hyungu sheathed his sword. “I ruined his life. Whatever happens to me, I deserve it. He was going to be a historian.”
“So, you read and write then,” Hyungu said, turning his attention to Giwook. Giwook nodded, still shivering. His lips were turning a shade of purple. “How nice for you. You’re so fortunate.”
“You don’t know how?” Giwook asked timidly.
“It was too expensive to learn,” Hyungu said, hanging his head. “And when King Sejong announced the creation of Hangul, I was too embarrassed to try.”
“Wait,” Giwook said. “You remember that? That was a hundred years ago. How old are you?”
“Not the oldest one here,” Hyungu said with a shrug.
Keonhee was done scrubbing. He rinsed Giwook’s skin with more chilly well water. “We should get you inside,” he said. “Not because it’s cold, but because it’s almost sunrise. It won’t kill you, but it won’t feel good. You’ll be the most sensitive to the sun during your first year, and mainly at sunrise and sunset.”
“How do you know?” Giwook asked.
“I’ve been studying this with Physician Lee for many years,” Keonhee replied. “Come on, I’ll take you to Dongmyeong’s room for now.”
“I have clean clothes you can wear,” Dongmyeong said, taking Giwook by the hand. “I’m so sorry I did this.”
Giwook said nothing, pulled his fingers out of Dongmyeong’s grasp, and followed where he was led.