romance is dead ❧ q.k | ✔

book two ❧ [vi]

Later that night, after you and Kun had seen Yangyang and Kunhang off at the front door with the cursed book in a DIY magic biohazard disposal container consisting of several garbage bags, glass tupperwares, and gloves for the witch to wear while he carried it, then finished tidying up the kitchen. Now you two were sat on the couch, quietly absorbed in your own activities as music streamed from his record player. It was some obscure, limited press record that Kun had picked up on a whim at one of the band's shows decades ago now; a Google search for the album or band name didn't even turn up any results. You were reclined in a half-laying position reading by the light of a lamp, intent on finishing all of The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes, while Kun was tinkering with the settings of a new camera he had bought the other day. How well he could calibrate it in his darkened living room, you didn't know, but you were content to let him fiddle with it in peace so long as he let you keep your legs in his lap.

You were faintly aware of him occasionally taking pictures of the objects around the room, and of you, and lifted the book even high to cover more of your face.

"Kun..." You said his name with a hint of warning, not taking your eyes off your page.

"What?" Another shutter click.

"You have to have a million photos of me by now."

"Maybe I want a million and one." Another click. "Okay, maybe a million and two."

You smiled to yourself as you continued reading, and Kun pointed the lens elsewhere to test the flash. As you came to a good stopping point at the end of one of the short stories, you laid the attached ribbon bookmark in between the pages and shut the book. You watched Kun fuss with the settings for a few moments, amused and endeared as he would sometimes point the lens and make an adjustment without even taking a picture, and sometimes take several photos, look at them, then change something.

"So, what were you and Kunhang talking about?" You asked him as nonchalantly as possible.

He snapped around to look at you. "Hm?"

"I've known that man my whole life. I know when he's bullshitting me," you informed him, not a hint of anger or malice in your tone. "Very kind of you to go along with it in the moment, by the way."

"I'm sorry, he stressed that he really didn't want you to know," Kun apologized sincerely, setting his camera down on the coffee table.

"What did he tell you? If it was about the first time I went flying, I didn't throw up everywhere, and really he was the one who—"

"He wanted to ask me something, and you really must tell me this story at a later time."

"Oh." You looked around awkwardly. "What did he ask you?"

He focused his red eyes on you, a much more serious air descending on the conversation and his tone. "If I was going to turn you, or if I ever would."

"Oh God, Kun, I'm sorry." You shot up into a proper sitting position. "We don't even live together, he shouldn't have been asking you if we've talked about eternity. As if that's even his business in the first place anyway."

"He seemed very concerned about your view on mortality since your brother's passing," your boyfriend explained with what you knew were his carefully chosen words. No way Kunhang had that kind of tact.

"He thinks I'm dating a vampire to cope with my brother dying. Great armchair psychology."

"I don't think that. I remember when you said that you're okay with not being here forever. When we went to the video gallery during the love potion incident."