Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The area was more open than Jay expected. There was dark wood paneling, polished stone floors, and ironwork that must have taken years to complete. Heavy drapes hung from over-sized windows, and the place was littered with lit candles. But what confused Jay more were the lamps that were on as well, like they refused to adapt originally, but gave in anyway. 

A sideways glance at Heeseung told him he was not even remotely surprised. Jay drifted further into the room, running his fingers over a painting on the far wall. There were vampires and humans, swords and guns, but there was one figure in particular that caught his attention. 

He had blood staining his fangs, but his eyes were alive as he stayed frozen mid-leap. Jay traced him gently, the divots of his face, the sharpness of his fangs. Jay would recognize Heeseung anywhere, even if he were frozen in time forever, made of nothing but oil paints. He barely noticed when Heeseung stopped behind him. 

“This is so much more embarrassing than I thought it would be.” Heeseung propped his head on Jay’s shoulder, eyes roaming over the painting with bored recognition.

“He’s beautiful.”

Heeseung scoffed. “He was reckless, and depressed,” he tipped his head like he was considering for a moment. “He was in so much pain.” His voice grew quiet, distant, as if he were talking about someone else entirely.

Something in Jay cracked. “Hyung…”

Heeseung blinked, and everything in his expression shuttered. He pulled Jay away, keeping him moving through the building. Weapons were displayed like trophies next to framed maps—some outdated, some annotated. They stopped in some sort of hall, illuminated by soft amber light that caught on gold-threaded tapestries lining the walls. The ceilings reached a ridiculous height, and a table large enough to hold several covens stood in the center. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly dramatic?”

Jay nearly jumped from his skin. He hadn’t heard anyone approaching, even worse, he hadn’t heard a single heartbeat or breath that indicated that someone was home. When he whipped around, he was met with the emptiness of the room. Heeseung tugged on his arm, positioning Jay behind him, as he spun in slow circles.

“Syrus…that’s enough.”

“Enough?” Syrus’ voice echoed, traveling closer to them, then further. “You broke into our home. You’ll have to forgive us if we’re a little—distrusting.”

Heeseung scoffed, but even to Jay’s ears it sounded weak. “You’re the one who left your doors unlocked.”

“Well, I suppose you have me there.” 

With an over dramatic flourish, Syrus apparated, leaning against the long table with a curious tilt to his head. “Heeseungie, tell me, have you finally come to your senses?”

“Where are the others?”

Syrus’ brows shot up, and Jay’s heart picked up in response. He’s never been a stranger to fear, to what it feels like to be in the same room as someone who could kill him. He’s been prey before. But nothing has ever compared to Syrus or Songmin. He felt trapped, frozen.

“We were wondering when you’d show up.” A woman Jay vaguely recognized as Mira saddled up beside Syrus, her hand curling around his shoulder.

“It was you. Wasn’t it?” Heeseung’s voice was flat, clipped, and almost entirely devoid of emotion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Heeseung’s growl was sharp, and all the hair on Jay’s arms stood up. “When you were fucking around in my head. You did something, didn’t you? You left something behind.”

Mira didn’t look at all phased by Heeseung’s outburst. “Oh, that? It’s not my fault you were so easy to crack.”

Heeseung’s lips pressed tightly together, shaking just slightly with the effort to keep quiet. But Jay couldn’t figure out why. Heeseung turned his gaze downward when Mira tilted her head, instead focusing on her hands. Mira grinned, nodding like she was satisfied with Heeseung’s reaction. Like she was expecting that. Jay went to step around Heeseung, to do what, he wasn’t sure, but he had to stop whatever was hurting his hyung so much. 

Heeseung’s arm shot out, his touch brief, harsh, even as he kept Jay half a step behind him. His stillness was inhuman, like he was waiting for permission, or was it impactful? Jay’s anxiety spiked. He hadn’t noticed at first; Heeseung’s changes were so subtle they flew right over Jay’s head. But now? This Heeseung was not his. This was not the same man whose voice was always warm, who insisted Jay wear his clothing at every available opportunity, who let Sunoo conduct countless hair experiments on him. Jay didn’t know who this was, but they still had his hyung’s face.

When Jay finally looked away from Heeseung, there were six more originals, and Jay only knew two. Songmin flashed a smile. “I see you’ve brought a guest. Jay, isn’t it? How lovely to meet you.” 

Jay’s eyebrows furrowed, his mind warring with the polite words and the insincerity of his tone. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t—not when Heeseug had barely moved an inch since the Originals appeared, not when he hadn’t looked at Jay once. Songmin’s smile was just as sharp when he turned it on Heeseung.

“Mira didn’t leave the message ‘no guests’ in your head while she was there?”

Heeseung flinched, his mouth opening with a retort before he hesitated, his expression cautious, like he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t choose his next words carefully.

“I cannot control Jay; he is free to do whatever he wants.” Heeseung decided on.

Songmin rolled his eyes, but Syrus held up a hand. “If you aren’t here to join us, what are you here for?”

Heeseung straightened slightly. “I need information.”

Songmin’s grin was feral. “Oh? So you need our help now?”

“From when?” Mira asked.

Heeseung gritted his teeth, and Jay flinched in response, entirely unable to do anything to relieve the tension. “1837.”

Syrus tilted his head as he circled the table slowly, fingers trailing along the edge. “You’re asking for records that predate the Council,” he said mildly. “That kind of history doesn’t circulate anymore.”

“I know,” Heeseung replied. His voice was steady, flat.

Mira watched him with open interest, chin propped on her hand. “Then you also know it won’t be free.”

Jay waited for Heeseung to negotiate, to argue. Heeseung did none of those things. He didn’t argue. Didn’t ask what the price was. He just nodded once.

 Songmin smiled at that. “God, you always were quick.”

Syrus stopped in front of him, far too close. Heeseung didn’t step back. 

“We’ll give you what you’re looking for,” Syrus said. “But not all at once. You’ll come back. Alone.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened. He backed up, his back pressing against Jay’s chest. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is for us,” Mira said lightly. “Information like this is… fragile.”

Jay felt a sick drop in his stomach. Heeseung’s face fell completely, like he was already resigning himself to something he had left behind years ago.

Silence stretched.

Heeseung stared at a crack in the stone floor. Jay could already feel it happening—the way Heeseung’s thoughts were lining themselves up, neat and distant, like this was a lecture he’d received a hundred times before.

“And if I don’t?” he asked quietly. “Come back?”

Songmin laughed, soft and surprised. “You always said that.”

Mira shrugged. “Then you get fragments. Names without dates. Events without cause. Enough to haunt you. Not enough to help.”

Syrus straightened. “Your choice.”

Heeseung closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his voice was calm. “If I agree, what do I get now?”

Mira’s eyes gleamed, and Syrus leaned down to murmur something in her ear. She disappeared without another word. Jay tugged on the back of Heeseung’s shirt sharply. Heeseung turned to him, and for a moment, when he blinked, Jay could see the Heeseung he knew. 

“Hyung, I don’t like this—”

Heeseung cupped his face, his thumb unbearably gentle against Jay’s skin. He shifted, completely blocking Jay’s view of the other Originals. “I don’t either, but this is the only way we can get answers.”

“No, it’s not. We can figure out a different way at home—”

“I don’t think he likes us very much.” 

Jay flinched violently at the sound of Songmin’s voice, but Heeseung barely moved. What little warmth Jay recognized disappeared in an instant as he turned to Songmin with a vicious glare. 

“Why must you always involve yourself where you do not belong?”

Songmin rolled his eyes. “Relax. Just getting a closer look at our replacement.” 

Jay’s nose wrinkled at the insinuation, but he placed a careful hand over Heeseung's arm when he sensed his hackles rising. Heeseung’s shoulders were still in contact. Not tense, or defensive. Just…still.

“Jay does not concern you.” Heeseung said evenly.

Jay froze.

Heeseung didn’t talk like that. No contractions. No bite. No warmth. Just measured neutrality. 

Songmin’s grin widened. “Everything about you concerns us.”

Heeseung’s answering growl died in his throat at Mira’s return. She was holding several thick folders under her arm, which she reluctantly placed on the table. Syrus flipped one of them open, its pages yellowed on the edges. 

“What, exactly, are you looking for?”

Heeseung cleared his throat, finally turning away from Songmin, but Jay couldn’t look away. Songmin didn’t look away either, watching Jay intently, like he knew something Jay didn’t. Jay unconsciously shifted closer to Heeseung, whose hand found his automatically.

“Suspicious vampire deaths, dated right before or during the war.”

Syrus hummed in understanding, but the redheaded Original, Jay, who thinks her name is Lilith, pushed him out of the way, already flipping through the pages. “So you do remember the pattern.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Heeseung nodded anyway. Jay wrinkled his nose. “What do you mean by pattern? Like our pattern?”

No one answered him.

“I thought you were unconcerned about the deaths? That is why you didn’t tell your fledgling.”

“Leave Riki out of this. He is not the reason we are here.”

“But he is odd, no?” Songmin wrapped an arm around Lilith’s shoulders. “Shows up out of nowhere, and suddenly you’re all obsessed with him. You haven’t been like this since you first found your Jay and Sunghoon.”

Jay startled at the sound of his name, his eyes flicking between Songmin, Lilith, and Syrus. They didn’t look cruel; they looked interested. Jay didn’t trust it for a second. Songmin shrugged with one shoulder. “Scary times for a fledgeling. One could only imagine how capable he’d be if he had proper training—”

Heeseung slammed his fist on the table, the sound sending a wave of silence through the room. “You will never be anywhere near him again. You will never be anywhere near my coven again, do you understand?”

The Originals exchanged glances, and for the first time, Jay thought they didn’t know how to react. Even Songmin was silent, pointedly not looking anywhere near them. A small smile played on Syrus’ lips, and he held his hands up in a surrender gesture. “If you insist.” He tossed a thin file onto the table, letting it slide to Heeseung. 

When Heeseung didn’t touch it, Jay plucked it from the table, flipping through old, tattered images and lists of names with birth and death dates.

“Our first installment,” Syrus said.

Heeseung leaned over Jay’s shoulder, his fingers trailing softly over the photos. 

“Heeseung?” Syrus prompted, as if correcting an old mistake.

Heeseung’s body went rigid. “Thank you.” He gritted out.

Songmin propped his chin on his hand, grinning widely. “You can come back for more soon. But you’ll be alone next time.”

Jay was too busy trying to decipher the pictures that he didn’t notice Heeeung’s lack of argument. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he handed off the files to Heeseung to pull it out. Jungwon’s name lit up the screen. The picture was older, taken maybe a decade ago, of Jungwon curled around Jake’s arm, his face peaceful.

Jay spared a glance at Heeseung before turning away to give himself some semblance of privacy. He answered.

“Did they make him wait?”

There wasn’t a greeting.

Jay swallowed. “Hello to you too.”

“Jay.”

Jay winced; he knew that tone. Calm, controlled, already worried. He glanced over his shoulder.

Heeseung was standing perfectly still, folders tucked neatly under his arm, listening without looking like he was listening.

“… We got the files,” Jay said carefully.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Jay pressed his lips together. “They’re not giving everything at once,” he admitted. “They want him to come back.”

A pause.

“Alone?” Jungwon asked.

Jay exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

The silence on the other end stretched long enough that Jay had to check the screen to make sure the call didn’t drop.

“Is he arguing?” Jungwon asked.

Jay stole another glance at Heeseung; he hadn’t moved. Jay didn’t answer right away.  “… No.”

Another pause.

“Okay,” Jungwon said. It didn’t quite sound like surrender. “Bring him home.”

Jay held his breath for a moment. “Yeah.”

“And hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“If he starts agreeing too easily, don’t let him.”

The line went quiet after that. Jay stared at the blank screen for a moment before tucking it back in his pocket. Heeseung didn’t look at him, and Jay carefully avoided the prying eyes of the Originals watching them. He tugged gently on the sleeve of Heeseung’s shirt, receiving a blank stare in return. 

“That sounded… serious,” Songmin drawled.

Jay bit back his response. Heeseung blinked once.

And then he wasn’t beside him anymore.

There was no warning — no shift in stance, no inhale before movement. One second, he was rigid and composed, the next, the folders were hitting the floor, and Songmin’s chair was screeching across the wooden floor.

Heeseung had him by the throat. There was no frantic scramble or messy grabbing; it was precise, like he’d been waiting to do that since they walked in.

Songmin’s back hit the wall with a crack that echoed through the room. Heeseung’s hand locked around his neck, fingers digging into his skin just hard enough that Jay could see beads of blood poking around the edges. His other hand braced against the wall beside Songmin’s head.

Jay had seen Heeseung fight before. But this wasn’t it. There was no taunting smile, no reckless grin, no spark in his eyes.

“You will not speak about him,” Heeseung said, the words sharp and fast, almost overlapping. “You will not speak about my coven as if they are pieces on your board.”

Songmin didn’t look afraid; he looked entertained. “Oh,” he rasped, barely strained. “There you are.”

Jay moved without thinking. “Hyung—”

Syrus sighed. It wasn’t alarmed or even urgent. It was tired, like he’d seen this a thousand times over.

Mira moved first. She slipped between them with impossible ease, fingers catching Heeseung’s wrist.

There was a split second when Jay thought she would struggle. She didn’t. She twisted, hard, her face bored.

The crack of bone shifting echoed in the room. Heeseung’s grip faltered just enough for Songmin to slip free, coughing once as he smoothed down his collar.

Mira didn’t release him. She used the momentum to throw. Heeseung hit the table hard enough to break it, the marble cracking underneath him. The air left his lungs in a sharp, involuntary sound that made Jay’s stomach drop.

Jay was already moving when Syrus stepped in.

Syrus caught Heeseung by the front of his shirt before he could fully regain his footing, hauling him upright like it was nothing. Like he weighed nothing.

“All these years,” Syrus said mildly, almost fondly, “and you still react the same way.”

Jay expected Heeseung to struggle. But he didn’t. He didn’t bare his teeth, didn’t twist free, didn’t fight the grip at his collar. He just went still.

Syrus shoved him back.

Heeseung stumbled once — just once — before Jay caught his arm. 

For a second, Heeseung’s eyes were wild, but they shuttered closed, like all the fight had left him at once.

Syrus adjusted his sleeves with exaggerated care. “You’ve always been so predictable when it comes to what’s yours.”

Jay tightened his grip, but Heeseung didn’t look at him. He was staring at the floor, breathing evenly as if none of it had happened.

“We’re done,” Jay said.

No one responded immediately.

Songmin flexed his fingers once and tested his throat like he was assessing damage. “Temper,” he murmured lightly. “You never did learn.”

Heeseung didn’t rise to it.

That was almost worse than the lunge.

Syrus adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, his expression unreadable. “You have your installment,” he said mildly. “Don’t forget the terms.”

Jay felt Heeseung’s spine go straight again at that.

“I will return,” Heeseung said evenly.

Jay’s head snapped toward him.

Will.

Not might. Not, we’ll discuss it. Not, we’ll see.

Will.

Songmin’s smile sharpened. “Alone.”

Heeseung inclined his head once. Jay’s nails bit into his own palm.

“Let’s go,” Jay said, sharper than he meant to.

He bent to gather the fallen folders before the Originals could touch them again. The pages felt heavier now. Like they’d been bought with something he didn’t agree to.

When he straightened, Heeseung was already walking toward the door with measured steps, his shoulders squared and his hands at his sides. Jay hated that posture, but he fell into step beside him anyway.

The Originals didn’t follow, but Jay felt their attention like hands between his shoulder blades.

“Drive safely,” Mira called lightly.

Jay reached the door first and pulled it open.

Heeseung paused on the threshold for half a second. Just long enough that Jay noticed. Then he stepped out. Jay followed immediately, the door closing behind them with a heavy, final sound.

The night air hit hard. It was colder than Jay remembered, and he winced at the bite of it.

Jay didn’t speak until they were halfway down the steps.

“You said you’d return.”

Heeseung kept his back to him. “Yes.”

The word landed flat. Jay stopped walking.

Heeseung took two more steps before realizing, then slowly turned around. “What?” he asked.

Jay searched his face for something — anger, regret, defiance. Anything. “You didn’t even look at me,” he finally said quietly.

That made something flicker; small, but there.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened. “This is not the place.”

Jay swallowed his next words. He knew Heeseung was right, but he hated it. They stood there for a moment, and Jay bit his lip until it bled.

Then he stepped closer, close enough that the space between them felt intentional.

Heeseung reached for him, a slight shake to his fingers as they curled around Jay’s arm.

“Let’s go home,” He said, before adding, “please.”

Jay grimaced but nodded, bumping Heeseung’s shoulder as he started back down the path. He couldn’t pay attention on the walk back, his mind slipping from the crooked road and the woods surrounding them. Heeseung walked a couple of paces behind him, his presence a constant weight in Jay’s peripheral. 

His bond pulsed in his body. He could feel Jungwon’s anxiety in his chest, even if faintly. He felt each member of his coven like an extension of himself, just as real and present as his own limbs. And if he searched hard enough, he swore he could feel Riki, too. It was smaller, newer, but there. 

Jay paused.

He could feel Jake, a steady stream of warmth pouring straight into Jay’s veins. Sunoo was just as warm, if a bit more worried, if the knot in Jay’s stomach was anything to go by. Sunghoon was, surprisingly, the calmest in the bond, and Jay focused on that, trying and failing to let everything else fall away. 

“Jay.”

Jay’s head snapped up. Heeseung stood by the driver's side of the door, eyeing him with a worried expression, his hand extended. 

“The keys?”

Jay blinked a couple of times to clear his head before waving him off. “I’m driving.”

“Jay—”

“Please don’t fight me on this.”

Heeseung hesitated for just a moment longer before relenting and slipping into the passenger’s seat. Jay let out a grateful sigh that faded in his throat once he stepped into the car.

Heeseung had slipped away somewhere far away in his mind, somewhere Jay couldn’t reach, somewhere he wasn’t invited. The car started with a gentle hum, and Jay willed back a headache as they pulled onto the road.

***

Jake paced anxiously by the door, practically burning a hole in the floor. His fingers picked relentlessly at the fragile skin of his lips until they came back slick with blood. Hanni and Jasmine had left some time ago, returning home to their own coven, and just barely escaping the suffocating anxiety that filled the room while Jake waited for the rest of his to return. 

Sunoo was doing a much better job at masking his fear, the only indication being how rigid he was in Sunghoon’s lap. Jake turned sharply on his heel to continue walking. The TV was on, playing at a soft, bearable volume, but no one was paying attention to it. Riki was lying on the stuffed elephant Jay had won him earlier, its body big enough to support a majority of his torso. Jungwon looked like he couldn’t decide whether to watch Riki pick at the carpet or Jake pace, his eyes darting between the two of them. 

Jake turned again. Then again. And again. And again—

“Will you quit it already?”

Jake came to an abrupt stop. 

Sunghoon lay his head on the couch cushion. “I’ve been feeling like I have to throw up for the past hour and a half, and—” he shot a glance at Jungwon, “forty percent of that is because of you.”

Riki stifled a laugh into his elephant, and even Sunoo relaxed a fraction. Jake glared, but Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice. 

“They should’ve been back by now.”

Sunghoon shrugged. “Jay probably just took the time to get hyung back in his own body. We barely know who those people were to him, much less what they did.”

Jake felt his stomach roll. “Which is why they shouldn’t have gone.”

Sunghoon frowned, his mouth opening to retort, but the sound of gravel crunching under tires interrupted him. Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the door, his senses reached past it. They were quiet. Jay walked heavily, his voice dropping several octaves as he coaxed Heeseung out of the car. Heeseung had yet to make a sound, and if it weren’t for the steadiness of his heartbeat, Jake would be afraid he wasn’t there at all. Jake flinched when the doorknob rattled. Sunoo stiffened, and Riki scrambled to sit up. Jungwon still didn’t move.  

When the door swung open, Jake prepared for the worst, and he almost got it. Heeseung walked a couple of paces ahead of Jay, his stance guarded, his face devoid of expression. Then he blinked, seemingly taking in everything, and it was gone. His face cracked into a soft smile, with tired eyes. 

Sunoo inhaled sharply before he could stop himself and Jake’s shoulders tensed before the smile reached his face.

Jay slipped around Heeseung. “Wow, you guys look like shit.”

Sunghoon laughed, shifting Sunoo off his lap to stand and greet them. He pulled Jay in for a lingering kiss, only parting to whisper, “Thanks for coming back, I was about to throw something at Jake.”

Jay gave Jake a look he could only describe as warm and held out a hand. Jake took it gratefully. “You were worried?”

Jake let out a sigh through his nose, closing his eyes when Jay kissed his forehead. “No shit. You wouldn’t answer my texts.”

“I was driving.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

Jay rolled his eyes and let him go. Heeseung drifted over to Jungwon, who seemed very intent on inspecting his face. Heeseung pulled a file from the stack and handed it to Jungwon without looking at it. Jungwon glanced at him but took the papers silently. Riki slowly stood up and placed his elephant on the couch. 

“Did you at least get anything good?”

Jake cringed internally, but Heeseung seemed to loosen at Riki’s question. “Yeah. I got some of what I needed.”

“Some…” Riki started, bracing his hands on the back of the couch. “But not all. You have to go back?”

Heeseung flinched. “Yes.”

His tone was clipped, cold, something Jake didn’t recognize at all. Jay tensed beside him, his eyes locked on Heeseung. Riki either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“By yourself? That seems like a stupid idea.”

Jake bit down on his lip, which Jay promptly tugged free. “He’s right. It is a stupid idea.”

“You always think he’s right,” Heesung said, barely turning to face them.

“That’s entirely untrue.” Jay said, “I don’t think his taste in snacks is right. Remember the microwaved strawberries?”

Everyone must have made a face because Riki let out an indignant, “It wasn’t that bad!”

Heeseung’s smile was tiny, but there. “Did you figure out what to do about the meetings?”

Any tension that had been resolved pressed back onto them. Jake’s shoulders hunched under the weight of it. “We’ve called a meeting with the council. A week from now. Jungwon called a Court meeting in two days.”

“Where?”

“Blackwood Hall.”

Heeseung paused, his eyes flicking between them. “That’s claimed territory. We’d need an invitation.”

“Everyone would need an invitation, and it’s owned by a human.” Jay added.

Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck, and Jake inched closer on the off chance he wanted the support. “I may have…convinced the owner to lend it to us.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows shot up. “You compelled someone? So we’re just not being careful about breaking laws now?”

Jungwon pulled his arm away, a glare settling harshly on his features. Jake pressed his lips together. Somehow, nothing was going well. Riki frowned slightly but didn’t say anything, tapping his fingers against the couch.

“We needed somewhere the Council wouldn’t think to look for us. They can’t surveil us if they can’t find us,” Jake insisted. 

“Oh and what it’s also in the middle of the day?” Heeseung said. “When half the city’s awake and we’re at our weakest?”

Jake winced, turning his eyes towards the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing he’d seen in years. He heard Jay sigh, and could already picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What time?”

“Noon.”

Jay nodded solemnly, the gears turning in his head practically visible to Jake. Riki’s eyes shifted between all of them, like the answer to his confusion lay somewhere in the silence. Heeseung didn’t say anything as he turned on his heel and disappeared up the stairs, not long after the sound of the shower hit their ears.

Jungwon couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from the direction Heeseung left in, even when Jake carefully wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “Do I want to know?”

All attention shifted to Jay, who looked just as lost by the situation. “He was different, I can’t even describe it.”

“Try?” Riki whispered.

Jay picked at the skin of his thumb anxiously, “He was so quiet. And the moment they appeared he just became…empty? Nothing I did could get through to him, not until we got home.”

Sunoo, who was quiet up until then, shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll go check on him.”

Jake opened his mouth to protest, but Jay waved him off, watching intently as Sunoo followed Heeseung’s path up the stairs and out of their sight. “If there’s anyone he might talk to right now, it’s Sunoo.”

Jungwon shot Jay a look that had him following Jungwon into the study, the door clicking shut behind them. Jake took a breath to steady himself before turning back. Sunghoon and Riki both stared back at him, as if he could single-handedly fix everything.

“Want to go for a walk?”

Sunghoon hesitated for just a moment before shrugging and pulling Riki up with him. They slipped out the back door without any protests.

Riki looped in and out of trees, ducking under branches and dictating the path like he’d done it hundreds of times before. Jake couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d gone this exact route when he left the nest in the middle of the night. Sunghoon narrowly missed a low-hanging branch, raising an eyebrow as Riki easily stepped around sharp rocks and small puddles. 

“You seem more familiar with the woods.”

Riki froze, nearly slipping. His eyes blew wide as he searched for an answer he could not give. 

“We go for walks together sometimes,” Jake said, pressing his palm against the trunk of a tree as he stepped around it. “Can’t sleep so might as well do something.”

Riki stared at him, bewildered, but Sunghoon looked suspicious. “You go for walks in the woods, at night, willingly?”

Jake frowned. “I’m an outdoor person.”

“Okay.” Sunghoon shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Silence enveloped them for a moment, and Jake both appreciated and loathed the time to organize his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about the bodies, or whatever the Underground was planning or the Council and their tricks. He could still hear the faint hum of the shower, or maybe that was wishful thinking. 

“What did Jungwon mean when he said he convinced the guy?”

Jake blinked. Riki was looking back at him with open curiosity, his head tipped slightly to the side. “Jungwon compelled him,” he said simply. Riki just raised an eyebrow. “It’s like mind-control in a way, or like extreme persuasion.”

“Can everyone do it?”

Sunghoon’s voice echoed somewhere behind him and Jake put out his hand automatically to steady him going down a particularly slippery area. “Yeah, most. It takes a lot of practice but it’s a learnable skill.” He paused. “It’s illegal now though, the punishment for compelling a human could be death, depending what they were compelled to do.”

Riki frowned, coming to a stop. “It’s illegal for you to do it to humans, but not to each other?”

Jake stopped as well. It was moments like this that reminded him how new Riki still was to their world. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, guilt washing over him at the thought of how little they had prepared him, how little they taught him while being caught up in everything else. One glance at Sunghoon let Jake know he was thinking somewhere around the same line. 

Sunghoon tugged on a strand of fallen hair thoughtfully. “We can’t compel each other, at least not in the same way.”

Riki crossed his arms over his chest, gesturing in a go on manner. Sunghoon smiled softly. “It’s more like an age hierarchy that can affect us. It’s in the scents; older vampires can overpower younger ones with their scent. Some use it as a dominance thing, but most keep it on a tight leash, it can be seen as a…challenge.”

Riki seemed to consider this before accepting it. “And, what? You need to be invited into homes, like in the movies?”

“Yes, and no.” Jake said, trying and failing to hide a smile. “We cannot enter claimed territory without an invitation, so, homes, coven nests, council buildings, etc. But, luckily, a coven leader can allow entry; their invitation extends to the entire coven.”

“So be careful who you invite into the house, okay?” Sunghoon ruffled Riki’s hair, much to his displeasure.

“Then how did the Originals get into our house?”

Jake faltered, his smile waning slightly. “Originals are…weird. Some rules don’t apply to them or at least not as strongly, the lines are blurrier because Heeseung used to be apart of their coven. You’d have to ask him about that more.”

Riki nodded again, his fingers rubbing circles into his temples. Jake winced, another wave of guilt hitting him. “Anything else you want to know?”

“Anything else I should know?”

Jake thought for a second, then said, “You feel more human in the sun. At least for a little while.” he blinked up at the night sky, his voice quiet, “It weakens you and dulls your senses. Heeseung can tolerate it longer than any of us; long exposure can kill you, or burn you badly enough you’ll wish for death.”

Something flickered in Riki’s eyes, something deeply sad, longing. “Do you miss it? Being human?”

Jake’s lips twitched, stretching themselves into something that wasn’t quite a smile nor a frown. “More than anything most days.”

Something beat painfully in the bond and Jake turned to see Sunghoon hesitating on the edge, his eyes round with guilt. He offered his hand, and Sunghoon took it, tugging Jake into the circle of his arms. His eyes ran over Jake’s face, one hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“You’re still you, just a little faster and stronger.”

Sunghoon sounded so sure, so confident that Jake didn’t have any other choice other than to believe him. “Okay.”

He pulled away slowly, pressing his back to Sunghoon’s chest so he could have his eyes on Riki again. “Do you miss it?”

Riki frowned, mulling it over. “Sometimes.”

He didn’t offer any more and Jake didn’t push. He was just about to suggest continuing when Sunghoon’s ringer ripped through the silence. 

Sunghoon startled, fumbling to pull out his phone. When he finally answered he was quiet for a while, his eyes shifting around the area while he listened to the other person. Jake pulled away completely, settling beside Riki, and reveling in the warmth that spread through his chest when Riki slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“Who’s he talking to?” Riki’s lips pressed just below his ear, his voice low enough not to carry to Sunghoon.

“Listen.”

Riki rolled his eyes, but if the tilt of his head was any indication, he followed instructions. 

“Jay-hyung wants to know where we are.” He whispered into the shell of Jake’s ear. “And if we’re hungry.”

Jake smiled, turning his face into the crook of Riki’s neck. “Do you want to go back?”

Riki shrugged with one shoulder, “Couldn’t hurt. Might make hyung less anxious if he can get food in us.”

Jake’s heart beat painfully and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to Riki’s lips. It was far softer than Jake intended, more of a brush of lips than anything else, and Riki looked startled when Jake pulled away. Sunghoon tried and failed to hide a grin before beckoning them closer and leading the way back to the house.

***

Jake woke up without knowing why. His eyes just snapped open, like he was just meant to be up. He rolled over, his back to Jay now, and rearranged his pillow. It didn’t work. Finally, he just sat up, letting Jay’s heavy arm slide off his waist. He couldn’t hear anything, at least nothing out of the ordinary. Heeseung was in Sunoo’s room now, after some coaxing from their resident sunshine to leave his room where he would surely be trapped in his own mind for the rest of the night. Jungwon joined them at some point, obviously receiving no opposition from either, who were more than happy to make room.

Jake himself had been quickly stolen by Jay, who insisted that if they weren’t sleeping in the nest, they had to sleep in his room. Sunghoon had been similar, grabbing Riki and running off to do god knows what. 

He wrapped his arms around his knees, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes in an attempt to get them to focus faster in the dark. He went through each room, counting each person’s slow, steady breaths up to fifty, before moving onto the next person. Just as his eyes started to droop he moved from Sunghoon to Riki and found…nothing. 

All the exhaustion faded from his system at once as adrenaline pumped through his blood instead. Jake carefully peeled the blankets back, his feet hitting the cold floor. And just as he shifted his weight from the mattress, long, strong fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

Jay blinked blearily at him, his mouth twisted into a small pout. “Where are you going?” But it came out in a slurred mix. 

Jake kissed his temple. “I’ll be right back, go back to sleep.” 

Jay watched him for a moment longer before flopping down on Jake’s pillow and holding it to his chest. Jake held his breath until he slipped out the door. The house was quiet, almost like it was searching for Riki as well. 

Jake turned a corner, his footsteps light, and inaudible. Then he came to an abrupt stop. Riki circled the kitchen, taking blood bags from the refrigerator and placing them in a small bag. Jake tipped his head, watching him head toward the back door. Riki hesitated with his hand on the doorknob and Jake shrank back further into the shadows as Riki turned his gaze upstairs with a faint smile. 

He was gone faster than Jake could blink. Jake cursed, hurrying to follow. Riki moved smoothly, inhumanly fast without ever glancing behind him. Jake nearly struggled to keep up, more unused to the territory even if he’d lived here longer than Riki, but he kept close, following just out of Riki’s line of sight and hearing. 

Jake didn’t know where he expected Riki to go, but a club, their club, was not one of them. Riki had hidden his bag behind a dumpster in an alleyway adjacent, and stepped into the club as if he’d been in hundreds of times. Jake nearly laughed as he surpassed the line and security stepped aside to let him in. He slipped upstairs, earning only a few odd looks from the staff.

“Mr. Sim, we weren’t aware you’d be joining us today. Did we misschedule your meeting?” The woman who walked in was tall, her expression only mildly surprised. She cradled an iPad in one arm, and looked up at Jake expectantly. Jake thought her name was Ava.

He smiled at her disarmingly. “No, I’m just here for…leisure.”

A brief wave of relief settled over her features and she tapped something on her screen. “Will the others be joining you this evening?”

“Just me.”

Ava nodded, unfazed and looked at him. “Can I get you anything to drink while you’re here then?”

“I’ll take a Glass Vein, please.” 

She was out the door before Jake could turn around. He settled into the chair by the railing, one leg stretched out as he looked down over the dance floor.

The Veil pulsed beneath him—lights bleeding across the room in slow waves of red and violet, bass vibrating through the floorboards like a second heartbeat. Bodies pressed together under the strobes, human and vampire alike, though most of the humans didn’t realize just how outnumbered they were.

The Veil had started smaller than this.

Jake remembered the first one clearly: a cramped basement club with terrible speakers and a stage that tilted slightly to the left. Heeseung had insisted the crooked floor gave it “character.” Jay had insisted it was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Back then it hadn’t been called The Veil. It had just been a place—somewhere vampires could drink, exist, and not worry about someone noticing that their pulse didn’t quite match the music.

Jay had come up with the name later.

He’d said it was perfect because that’s what the club was meant to be. A veil between worlds. Humans on one side of the illusion, vampires on the other, both pretending not to notice the difference.

Heeseung had handled the money, the permits, the endless negotiations with city officials and vampire councils. Jay handled everything else—music, atmosphere, the kind of place people talked about long after they left.

The first club had done well enough that they opened another.

And then another.

Eventually the Veil became less of a single club and more of a network. Quietly owned properties scattered across cities where vampires needed places to exist after dark without attracting the wrong kind of attention.

When Ava returned Jake lifted his glass and took a slow sip as he watched the crowd move below.

Riki was easy to spot even from the balcony; he looked like he was having the time of his life, he had his arm wrapped around Ryujin as he passed drinks to Taki and K. His movements were getting sloppy, uncoordinated in the way only copious amounts of alcohol can do.

Jake couldn’t imagine how much Riki would have had to drink for him to get to this point. Vampires had a particular tolerance to alcohol, whatever the limit to get a human drink, it would take nearly four times that to get a vampire even slightly tipsy.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Jake weighed his options then pointed directly at Riki. “What do you know about him?”

Ava barely blinked, just started looking through her iPad. “The name on his ID is Nishimura Riki, age twenty-three. He’s come here eight times in the past month.” She scrolled and Jake moved to stand beside her. “He comes in late, not every night but when he does it’s always at the same time.”

She paused, her lips tilting down in a frown.

“He starts with something human, usually vodka, and keeps it simple. Then he switches—orders a Night Pulse everytime.”

“A Night Pulse?” Jake repeated.

Ava nodded. “Strong stuff, but he almost never finishes it. He’s always here on off-shipment days.”

Her nails clicked gently against the screen but Jake wasn’t paying attention anymore. Off-shipments echoed in his head.

“Speaking of,” she continued, oblivious to Jake’s shift. “Are we still cleared for tomorrow’s intake?”

Jake went still, trying to process her words as quickly as possible. What intake? What could they possibly be bringing in that Jake didn’t know about? A quick glance at her iPad showed a calendar, days that originally looked randomly marked with a small pink dot in the corner suddenly had a pattern. A schedule.

Ava tilted her screen away unconsciously. “Unless you’d like me to run it through Mr. Yang first?”

Jake fought not to pick at his skin anxiously. “No, it’s fine, we’re clear for intake.”

Ava nodded slowly, jotting something down. Her gaze lingered on him, like she was waiting for something more specific.She turned to leave, but stopped short at the last moment. “Would you like us to collect him?”

Jake’s brows furrowed. “Collect who?”

“The man you’ve been watching, would you like us to bring him up here?”

Jake waved a hand, slowly settling down in his chair again. “No, leave him be, but keep an eye on him, please. Let me know when he’s leaving, and close his tab on our card.” 

Ava accepted the card from his outstretched hand but she didn’t leave quite yet, instead she fidgeted with the case of her iPad. Jake waited patiently.

“Shall we mark him, then?”

Jake’s ears perked at that.

Mark him.

The words sat oddly in his chest.

For a second, his mind went somewhere else entirely. Back to when Heeseung and Riki came back from the market. To the way Heeseung’s scent had soaked Riki’s skin, covering him entirely, the subtle shift in the air after, like something had settled into place. The kind of claim that didn’t need to be spoken out loud because every vampire within a five-mile radius could feel it.

This wasn’t that.

Jake glanced at the iPad still tucked against Ava’s side. The screen had dimmed, but not before he’d caught enough—names, timestamps, notes logged in neat, clinical rows. Patterns turned into data. 

Marked.

Not scent. Not bond.

But a system.

His gaze drifted back down to the floor below.

Riki laughed at something—too loud, a little unsteady—and leaned into the people around him like he didn’t feel the way attention shifted when he moved. Like he didn’t notice the way space opened just slightly too late, or how certain eyes lingered a second too long.

Unclaimed.

Or at least… not visibly enough.

Jake exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the glass in his hand.

He knew how these systems worked. Better than most. The Veil wasn’t just music and lights—it was built from structures, signals; quiet rules that kept things from tipping into something worse. A marked presence moved differently through a room like this. Not untouchable—but acknowledged, accounted for.

Protected.

And watched.

That was the part that stuck.

Because marking him here wouldn’t just shift how other vampires saw Riki. It would change how the Veil saw him. Every visit logged. Every drink. Every name attached to his orbit, filed away somewhere Jake hadn’t even realized he’d stopped paying attention to.

Safe—but not free.

Jake’s jaw tightened.

Riki wouldn’t like that.

Wouldn’t like being… handled. Managed without being asked. Especially not here, in a place he clearly thought was his.

But then again—

Jake’s eyes flicked back to the half-finished drinks in Riki’s hands, the slight lag in his movements, the way someone brushed a little too close to his side before pulling back.

Riki didn’t like a lot of things that were still necessary.

Ava hadn’t moved. She was waiting—patient, composed, like this was a simple administrative choice and not something that felt dangerously close to overstepping a line Jake wasn’t sure belonged to him.

“We can flag him,” she added after a moment, tone even. “It’ll keep things… smooth while he’s here.”

Smooth.

Jake almost huffed at that. Smooth meant no one touched what wasn’t theirs. Smooth meant no one tested boundaries. Smooth meant Riki could keep laughing like that without someone deciding to push just a little too far.

His grip loosened slightly against the glass.

Temporary, he told himself. Just while he’s here.

Still, the word lingered.

Mark.

If Riki was truly marked there would be no need for this. If he carried the outline of Jungwon’s fangs on his neck no one would question anything. But Riki didn’t carry Jungwon’s mark. And this was Jake’s only option.

Jake tilted his head just enough to glance at Ava again, expression carefully neutral. “…And that stays internal?” he asked, like he already knew the answer. Like he was just confirming a detail instead of trying to map the edges of something he hadn’t realized existed.

Ava nodded once. “Veil-side only.”

Not the Council. Not official.

But not nothing either.

Jake looked back down at Riki one more time.

His tongue pressed briefly against the inside of his cheek. “…Do it,” he said finally.

The words came easier than they should have. Like the decision had already been made somewhere along the way.

Ava didn’t say anything more, just tapped something on her screen that sounded far too final for Jake’s liking and turned away. 

Jake tipped his head back against his chair the moment he heard the door click shut. There was too much information flying around his mind for him to make any sense of. The shipments of god knows what, Jungwon’s supposed aid in it, and…Riki.

Jake rubbed at his eyes tiredly, suddenly wishing he hadn’t left Jay’s bed at all. Riki’s glass had remained nearly untouched for the past half-hour. He would bring it to his lips, his tongue barely peeking out to touch the liquid before setting the glass back down, a far away look in his eyes Jake couldn’t understand. 

Perhaps, he simply just didn’t like it, which would be fair given the fact that the drink he’d chosen was Night Pulse of all things. It was one of their more extravagant drinks, much like the human equivalent to a shot, except far more potent and infused with blood for easy digestion. But Jake suspected there was something more to it. Why else would he continue to get vodka, or whatever other human alcohol Ava had cataloged, knowing it did nothing for him. He watched Riki put his glass down and return to the circle of his friends, either entirely oblivious to Jake’s presence above him or excellent at faking it. 

He leaned forward when Riki walked to the center, Taki practically hanging on one arm, Ryujin and K not that far behind. People still crowded close, but there was a hesitation now, a split-second pause before they touched him. Like he held an invisible barrier. Riki didn’t seem to notice and something in Jake’s chest preened.

Time became nonexistent until there was a knock on the door and Jake called out for them to come in. Ava walked in again. “He’s leaving, Mr. Sim. We closed his tab on your card like you requested.”

Jake smiled at her in thanks as he accepted his card back before standing. Riki and his friends were easy to find, loud, boisterous, and nearly falling down every couple of steps. Jake followed at a closer distance this time, watching as Riki assisted his friends into a taxi before waving them goodbye.

Jake was honestly impressed Riki managed to walk as far as he did. He stumbled out of the alley, almost five miles out like he had no idea where he was going. He was just about to grab Riki and take him home—he was clearly too drunk to remember the way back—when Riki turned a corner into an area Jake had never been in.

The street was quieter here, the noise from the streets reduced to a dull pulse behind him, seemingly miles away now. Neon signs flickered over wet pavement, throwing broken reflections across the sidewalk. He walked with uneven steps, one hand braced against the brick wall as he rounded the corner.

Jake followed from the mouth of the alley, far enough back that Riki wouldn’t notice him immediately. The bag of blood Riki had stashed earlier was gone. Riki had either finished it or hidden it somewhere else. Jake frowned. That was when Riki drifted toward a chain-link fence.

Floodlights illuminated the area beyond it, bleaching the ground pale and casting long shadows across stacks of shipping containers. The metal gate stood half open, a temporary barrier with a red RESTRICTED ACCESS sign zip-tied to the middle.

Two police officers stood near the entrance.

Jake slowed.

Riki didn’t.

He walked straight toward them, squinting like he was trying to read the sign.

“Hey—” one of the officers called out. “You can’t be back here.”

Riki blinked at him slowly. “Oh,” he said, voice loose and slurred. “My bad.”

But instead of turning around, he took another step forward, leaning slightly as if the ground were tilting under him.

The second officer stepped forward immediately. “Stop right there.”

Riki froze halfway through another step. Jake felt the tension snap tight in his chest. Riki tilted his head, looking at the officer like he was trying to focus on two versions of him at once.

“Is this not… a shortcut?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the fenced area.

“No,” the officer said sharply. “It’s restricted. Turn around.”

Riki squinted past them toward the lights. “What’s going on back there?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Riki swayed slightly, like he might lose his balance. One hand caught the fence to steady himself, the metal rattling under his grip.

The officer grabbed his wrist immediately. “Hey—don’t touch that.”

The motion was rougher than it needed to be. Riki looked down at the officer’s hand around his wrist, confusion crossing his face like he genuinely hadn’t expected to be grabbed.

“Okay,” Riki said slowly. “You’re… very aggressive.”

“Turn around and walk away,” the officer snapped.

Riki tried to pull his arm free. The officer tightened his grip. The second officer stepped closer, hand already hovering near the weapon on his belt.

Jake reached them in two strides. “Evening,” he said pleasantly.

Both officers turned. Jake stepped between them and Riki with an apologetic smile, gently but firmly removing the officer’s hand from Riki’s wrist.

“Sorry about him,” Jake said. “He’s drunk.”

Riki leaned heavily against Jake’s shoulder in immediate agreement. “Very,” he mumbled.

The first officer frowned. “You need to keep him out of restricted areas.”

“Absolutely,” Jake said smoothly. “My fault. I looked away for two seconds.”

The second officer studied them both, suspicious. “You two come from the club?”

Jake nodded. “Celebrating a birthday,” he said easily.

Riki raised his hand weakly. “Mine.”

Jake resisted the urge to pinch him.

The officer’s gaze flicked between them before settling back on the fence. “Well, keep walking.”

Jake nodded again, already guiding Riki backward down the sidewalk. “Of course.”

They didn’t stop until they turned the corner and the floodlights disappeared behind the buildings. Jake dropped his arm from around Riki immediately and the drunken slouch vanished. Jake felt it before he saw it—the shift. The weight against him disappeared, posture straightening like a switch had been flipped.

“You were doing that on purpose,” Jake said quietly.

Riki rubbed his wrist where the officer had grabbed him, eyes still fixed on the direction of the lights.

“Did you see how many guards were there?”

Jake exhaled slowly. “No.”

Riki’s eyes were sharp now, completely sober. “There were too many.”

Jake opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Scold him? It was hard when his heart still beat in his throat. “That was stupid, if I hadn’t been there—“

“They rotate every hour and a half.” Riki said flatly. “There’s about six entry points and every single one is guarded. You don’t think that’s odd?”

“We don’t know what’s in there. It could be nothing—“

“You don’t really believe that.”

Jake didn’t have a response, so he reached for Riki’s wrist, pulling him to a halt. He turned over his wrist, tracing lightly over the angry red fingerprints. Riki seemed unaffected when Jake glanced up at his face, but whenever Jake pressed into a spot that was too tender, his eye twitched.

“You followed me.” It wasn’t a question, but Jake nodded anyway.

“You left the house in the middle of the night.”

Riki smiled faintly. “I didn’t see you on the dance floor, I figured you’d be hard to miss.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“You waited outside?” Riki’s brow furrowed, trying to fill in the holes in his memory.

Jake couldn’t help but grin. “Not quite.”

Riki mirrored his smile, but it faded just as quickly as it started. “The others know, I’m assuming.”

Jake winced. “No.”

Riki looked surprised momentarily, but Jake saw a flicker of clarity. “That’s why you covered for me with hyung.” He watched Jake with unguarded trust. “How long have you known?” 

“A couple of months, maybe.” 

“And you haven’t said anything?” 

Something frustrated bubbled up in Jake’s chest. “Is that where you have been going every other night? To the Veil and then to here? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if we woke up one day and you were gone—we’d have no idea where you could be—” 

Something like genuine confusion crossed Riki’s face. “Why would it matter?” 

Jake considered throttling him. “I’m going to desperately need you to stop acting like you are a dispensable member of this coven.” 

“But I’m not a part of the coven, hyung.” 

Every response Jake had on the back burner died on his tongue. His chest ached, and every cell in his body rejected that thought. Riki looked oddly calm, as if he’d already been over the issue and was numb to the result.

It took everything in Jake not to reach for him. “Do you want to be a part of this coven?” 

Riki looked away, and with each passing second, Jake’s heart dropped further. When Riki turned his eyes back, they were carefully guarded, and he didn’t answer. 

Jake trailed behind him on the way home, his head fuzzy with all the new information. The house was still quiet, although Jake couldn’t tell if he was grateful or disappointed the others hadn’t noticed their absence. 

Riki did as he always did, stripping his clothes and shoving them to the bottom of his hamper, covering the foreign scents with the familiar ones of their coven. When Riki shifted, Jake caught a glance at his back, unmarred aside from a couple of bruises. Jake ran his fingers over them without thinking, marveling at the trail of goosebumps he left in his wake. 

“We have bruise cream, if you’d like?” He said quietly.

Riki shrugged, tugging another shirt over his head. “It’s not a big deal, it’ll be gone in the morning.” 

Jake sucked in his breath, scraping together some courage. “I’m asking because I want to. You can think of it as helping me if that works.” 

Riki turned to look at him for a moment, but Jake avoided eye contact, his gaze catching on the finger-shaped bruises circling his wrist and forearm. Riki let Jake take his arm, turning it over and over, as if he expected different results each time. Finally, Riki pulled Jake’s gaze upwards.

“Can I feed from you? After?” 

Jake rolled his eyes, but relaxed a bit. “We’re supposed to be feeding you human blood now.” 

“Please, hyung?” 

Jake thought it was incredibly unfair for Riki to have that level of power over him. Whatever they knew about the age hierarchy must be wrong, because Riki clearly had some sort of supernatural hold over them. 

He nodded anyway, receiving a blinding smile and kiss on the cheek. Jake led him to Heeseung’s empty room, digging through the bathroom cabinets until he found what he was looking for. He gestured for Riki to sit on the bed and crawled onto the bed behind him. 

“Are you sure hyung would be okay with this?” 

Jake’s nose wrinkled in response. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t he be?” 

Riki shrugged, and after a pause, Jake began carefully sliding his shirt up. The bruises weren’t too bad, but with each one, he dutifully swiped some ointment from the container and spread it across the length of the bruise. 

Riki’s shoulders loosened with each touch, his head bending forward until he was practically putty in Jake’s hands. “Riki.” 

“Hm?” 

Jake tugged on his shoulder a little bit. “Do you still want to feed? Or do you just want to go to bed?” 

Riki turned around lazily, throwing his full weight onto Jake and knocking him flat on his back. Jake laughed lightly, pushing at Riki’s shoulders until he nipped at the skin of his neck, a quick warning before he dug his fangs in. Jake fell still, aside from the small touches he used to ground himself. Riki’s pulls were rhythmic but small, like he was drinking more for closeness than out of necessity, but Jake didn’t call him out on it.

Eventually Riki stopped drinking, and he pulled back, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bite. Jake hissed, squirming under Riki’s weight, but it got him nowhere. 

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

It took Jake a moment to process the words. “Jay’s room.”

“Do you think I could convince Sunghoon-hyung to come with me to Jay’s room?”

Jake hummed. “Yeah, especially if you bat your eyelashes at him.”

“Oh, like this?” Riki made an exaggerated show of batting his eyelashes at Jake, twisting his head absurdly to the side. 

Jake laughed, his head falling back against the growing selection of pillows on Heeseung’s bed. “Yes, that’s it. That’s perfect.”

Riki grinned, resting his chin on Jake’s sternum, undeterred by the constant movement of Jake’s laughter. “Does it work on you?”

“Of course it does, anything you do works on me.” Jake was only vaguely aware of how unbearably soft his voice had gotten.

Riki’s look of surprise melted into one of self satisfaction. “Oh, you like me, hyung.” It came out teasing but Jake couldn’t help the pure honestly that flooded his system.

“How could I not?”

 “Hyung—” Riki blinked at him with wide eyes, but Jake was more focused on new bruises under Riki’s jaw.

“Did Sunghoon give these to you?”

Riki nodded, breath catching as Jake traced them, his fingers lingering over the bruises beneath his jaw. Jake followed the marks with his gaze instead, thumb brushing once more before his hand slid to the side of Riki’s neck, holding him there.

“Hyung…” Riki’s voice came out quieter this time, less teasing.

Jake exhaled softly, tilting his head just enough to press a slow, deliberate kiss over one of the fading marks—gentler than before. His grip stayed firm, thumb resting just under Riki’s jaw as if to keep him from pulling away.

“You’re covered in them,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“You don’t like them?” Riki watched his face carefully and Jake cupped his cheek, carefully stroking Riki’s skin with his thumb.

“I love them.” Jake said quietly, tracing them over once more. “A piece of him on you, it’s perfect.”

A lovely pink spread from Riki’s cheeks up to the tips of his ears and he hid his face in the crook of Jake’s neck. Jake hummed, sliding his hand up to the base of Riki’s neck and tugging his hair. 

“We need to make a deal.” Riki pulled back from his neck curiously, but Jake still kept hold, refusing to lose contact entirely. “You can’t go back there.”

Riki rolled his eyes, letting his head fall onto Jake’s chest. “Yeah, okay.”

Jake pulled on the hair in his fist harder than was probably necessary. Riki hissed, but he raised his head to look at Jake again. “I’m serious. I will lie to the others for you, we will figure out how to investigate this further, but you cannot continue to go there alone.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Riki propped himself on his elbow, taking his full weight off of Jake, who hated to admit that he missed it immediately. “How do I know you won’t go there with them without me? That you won’t keep what you find from me?” 

Jake winced, slightly offended, but when he thought about it, it was a fair assumption. They’d hidden many things from Riki far longer than they should have. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he’d just marked Riki at the Veil. He ignored it.

“There’s shipments coming into the Veil. I don’t know what they are, but I know that Jungwon is mostly in charge of them.”  

Riki’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would Jungwon be in charge of shipments to the Veil?”

“Because we own it.”

Riki looked like he was going to laugh, but his expression shifted when Jake showed no indication of joking. “What.”

Jake didn’t bother repeating himself, and instead waited for Riki to process. 

“You own the Veil?”

Jake nodded.

“Since when?”

“Since the very first one.”

Riki’s jaw dropped open. “And what? You’ve been spying on me there?”

“Tonight was the first time I’d seen you there, but we also haven’t been there all that recently.”

“Why do you still own it then?”

Jake looked at him sideways. “Because we need money, Riki, and the Veil makes very good money.”

Riki went quiet for a long time and Jake risked touching him, just barely grazing his knuckle on Riki’s cheekbone. “Have I earned your trust now?”

It shouldn’t have brought Jake nearly as much relief as it did when Riki leaned into his touch like he almost couldn’t help it himself. But something in Riki’s expression shifted and he was unprepared when Riki gripped his hips and dragged him down the bed to crash their lips together. 

Jake made a surprise noise in the back of his throat but opened for Riki’s prying tongue easily. He tangled his fingers in soft hair and tugged when Riki’s tongue slid against his in a way that made electricity shoot down his spine. 

Riki crawled on top of him, caging Jake in with his arms. His hands were rough, deliberate as if he were afraid he’d never be able to do it again. Jake wrapped his legs around Riki’s waist, his head spinning too fast to keep up. 

Riki ripped himself away, planting rough, hard kisses under Jake’s jaw, his throat—before biting down hard near his clavicle, his teeth breaking skin. Like he was claiming something that should have already been his.

Jake bit his tongue to keep in his startled yell, panting heavily, the rush of heat hitting him all at once. This wasn’t just want. Riki was—

Riki licked the wound in either appreciation or apology—Jake couldn’t tell. He planted softer kisses over the dark marks he left earlier, breathing just as hard.

“Don’t go back on our deal.” 

He was gone before Jake could respond.