[It’ll be fairly late. Maybe close to midnight.]
[Okay. I was going to make soondubu jjigae tonight… Breakfast instead?]
[Yes, please. I’ll try not to wake you when I come home. xx]
I set my phone down on the worktable and breathe a sigh. It’s been about a month since Jae started “awakening,” and not much has changed other than his sleep patterns. He said before he’d stay up all night sometimes. Restless and jittery. Since I’ve started feeding him, though, he sleeps well—deeply and comfortably. It’s not very exciting but definitely a good thing. I’m glad.
“There are rumors circulating about you, Takayama Junichi.”
It’s Sunday afternoon and Hisaki is perched on my couch, dramatically flickering his horse tail and looking at me. I should get rid of that couch. Can’t flounce around in here like a dumbass if there’s nowhere to sit.
“I wonder if that confounding creature I met here last month is the one everyone is talking about? The one spending time with Haruka lately. This doctor. Miscreant. What gives him the right?” he says. I’m hand-stitching a design on the collar of an outer coat for a kimono. New Year’s will be here before I know it, and I’m thinking of asking Jae to go to the local temple with me. I’m not religious, but I think the tradition is nice. My mother used to drag me and my sister because she liked to dabble in Japanese culture despite her rigid circumstance. I think she was always trying to make the best of things.
I’m making Jae a kimono and coat as a surprise. I’m starting with the coat because I don’t know his exact measurements yet. I’m estimating the neck and shoulders, but I can make adjustments later.
“Are you ignoring me?” Hisaki asks.
“I’m trying to.” I’m threading the whip stitch, which is lapis blue. The fabric I’m using is a deep steel gray. The kimono underneath will be dark blue. I think he’ll look good in these colors, and it’ll stop him from buying some pre-made kimono combination off of a mannequin at a department store.
“Are you living with him? Is he truly residing in your home?”
I shake my head, focusing. I don’t need to answer this twerp’s questions or explain myself to anyone. What’s happening to Jae is his business. Not the aristocracy’s. Not yet. If and when he awakens, then they can know.
Living together with Jae has been surprisingly comfortable. Easy. He’s pleasant and keeps busy. His room is always a mess of papers and research things, but he keeps my common areas and kitchen clean. I’ve never had a roommate before, so I don’t have any points of comparison. But I imagine he’s probably the best kind.
“You know, my bloodline is unique among vampires,” Hisaki boasts. “We have a very keen sense of smell. It has been passed down to each successive first-born child for generations. So it was easy for me to tell that something was off about your… friend?”
I have not said more than three words in at least ten minutes. It’s unbelievable how he sits here, perfectly satisfied with hearing himself talk.
“Junichi, you are wildly popular within our aristocracy. Your bloodline and breeding are exquisite—fit for any purebred to mate with. You should not be engaging with this strange creature in this way. I am not interested in physical intimacy—and our age gap is significant—but… even I would be a more socially appropriate choice as a mate for you.”
I dry-heave and quickly take a breath. I rest the needle and fabric down onto the table and close my eyes. “Hisaki. What I do in my private life has nothing to do with you, or anyone in the aristocracy. Do you understand?”
He blinks his red eyes at me like a calf at a new gate. “No. I do not understand. Because we are a tightly knit community, and we want to know more about this creature you’ve suddenly latched yourself to. Does Ren know about this?”
My first instinct is to say, “Fuck Ren.” But I can’t say that. Not aloud. He’s like my drug dealer—the one with the good stuff. I have to keep things as amicable between us as possible.
Or maybe I should say it and completely sever the ties between us? That’s what should really happen. Except I’m weak. I’ve been drinking his blood since I was sixteen… fucking purebred blood. I’m going to see Ren today, which is why I can’t have spicy tofu soup for dinner with the bright, sexy doctor living in my home. I have to go get my damn fix.
Jae has been hustling for the past month. He’s been taking patients part-time at the hospital, setting up and interviewing candidates for the surrogacy program and visiting and researching with Haruka. He’s over at his house now. He usually goes twice a week. When Jae comes back home, he’s giddy. I’m sure Haruka loves it too—having another bookworm to nerd out with over vampire lore. Add to it, Jae is an excellent student. Even his bachata has gotten better.
At night, he’s cooking and spending time with me. The irony is that he’s doing exactly what I asked and taking my stance on us not having sex seriously. But I’m the one harassing him when we’re in the house together.
He’s got that sexy little mole in the concave of his neck, so if I’m walking past him in the kitchen, I’ll lean down and kiss it. Unprompted. He laughs and shrugs his shoulder every time I do it. I love it. If we’re sitting on the couch together, eventually I pull him into my embrace so he’s sitting against me while we talk. Then I rub my face into his soft, golden hair and nibble at his ear. He smells so damn good and sweet—I want to bite him so bad it’s painful. Sometimes my mouth waters from his nearness.
I don’t bite him. I haven’t since the first time. He still can’t produce fangs at all, and he says he feels the same. Maybe I’m being overly precautious, but how can I know? This is uncharted territory.
“I said, does Ren know?” Hisaki repeats, frowning at me.
“Again—my business. Not yours. Go home. I need to leave.” I stand and walk toward the closet to store my side project there. I work on Jae’s kimono at the end of the day after all my clients have come and gone. The respectable ones, anyway.
“It doesn’t make Ren look very good… you shacking up with this mysterious creature. It’s disrespectful to your purebred source.”
I poke my head out of the closet, my eyes sharp like daggers. “Are you lecturing me right now?”
“No.” He promptly stands, clearly having read the danger in my face and tone. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you next week.”
“I would rather you didn’t.” I walk back into the closet to finish hanging the garment.
It’s a two-hour trip one-way to see Ren in Hiroshima. That alone should be enough to convince me to stop this shit. When I slide the door open to the small tearoom within his estate where we always feed and meet, he’s already there. I’m shocked. Usually he makes me wait fifteen to twenty minutes, and then I have to sit through a dramatic entrance.
He’s sitting on the floor on a cushion, his legs tucked underneath him. He’s wearing a black robe with an intricate geometric wave pattern in muted gold. His long dark hair is pulled up into a hasty, careless bun at the top of his head. His arms are folded.
I made this robe for him, actually. A very long time ago. He rarely wears what I make. He says my aesthetic isn’t bold enough. Well, fuck him.
I slide the door closed and move toward the empty cushion directly in front of him. “This is a nice surprise,” I say. Maybe I can get the hell out of here faster than usual? His butterscotch eyes shift up to watch, following me as I sit across from him and match his formal position.
I would say he looks annoyed, but… he almost always looks this way. Surly. Like he’s swallowed something distasteful. Even when we were kids. It’s too bad, because he’s genuinely striking: his lean, straight features are like a work of art—ironic, because he’s also a pretty skilled painter. He even painted a portrait of me, once. But his personality renders all of this as irrelevant.
“What’s up your ass?” I ask, raising my eyebrow. There was a time when I was more formal toward Ren. More polite. Those days are long gone.
His vivid eyes are expressionless, but his gaze is penetrating. “Who is staying with you? In your home.”
“A friend.”
“Who?”
