H.HJ X SKZ//OneShots

TASTE

5/30/24
Hyunjin stared at Chan, his eyes wild with fear. He was breathing heavily, his hands held against his chest, his body squeezing further into the corner. Still, his eyes never left Chan's, and there was so much emotion that swirled within them. Chan recognized it all, and his fears were confirmed.
Hyunjin had truly—somehow with his damn luck—had not only been bitten by a vampire, but turned into one.

>>>· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·<<<

When his eyes opened it took him a moment to register that he did in fact open his eyes. The sky was black as coal, little white freckles twinkling here and there. What gave it away had been the tall twin buildings on either side of his vision, windows pitch black, only aiding to the late time of night.

He felt the hard ground below him, concrete if that were anything to go by. He could feel the cold wet seep through his clothes, had it rained since he'd been here or before? That simple idea had his questioning where 'here' was and why he was there to begin with. How long had he been there? Why was he on the floor?

Had he been mugged? Or maybe he simply passed out? The hours he'd been putting in at work hadn't been treating well so maybe exhaustion finally caught up to him?

That idea still didn't seem right, none of this felt right. So, with more energy and strength than he'd liked to have needed to use, he pushed himself onto his elbows. His gaze wandered further into his surroundings, noting the rather grimy garbage bins to his right, or the empty and molding boxes to his right.

The drain a couple feet away, water still trailing down the crevices and down the hole. The clearly abandoned bike in the corner behind him, most evident by the abundance of rust or the broken chain. Conclusions draw him to an alley way, neatly spotted between two worn down apartment buildings.

The question then became why? And how? There were many other questions to be answered but those two seemed to nag at him the most. He also hoped that once solving those, he may conclude the others.

He slumped his head into his hands, trudging through his mind to find some sort of answer, some sort of memory he could replay from. He figured that to even be in this place at this time, he had to have been headed home from work. He didn't leave his apartment for much else aside from the company and living essentials.

And even when given the time, he's almost always drained to the core from dealing with the many requests of his boss, the organizing of schedules, and the choreography's built. So, during his breaks, he's almost always tangled in his bed or nestled up on the couch.

He'd recently gone grocery shopping—he thinks—so that wouldn't be the reason for his late outing. Work really could be the only solution.

Whatever, so he was leaving work, then what? Robbed? Assaulted? Fainted? The answers truly felt unlimited. He just knew that whatever the reason, he'd be informing his boss about the event. Maybe something along the lines of:

"You're gonna end up looking for a new manager AND choreographer for 3racha if you continue having me work to the dead hours of night. Don't get me wrong, those guys are my best friends and I love working with them, but God damn!"

He'd entirely been expecting to reach for his wallet to find it missing, or maybe even his pants, but upon further investigation none of the above was gone. In fact, nothing was. The silver cross still adorns his neck, the couple rings remain untouched, his wrists still shiny with loose chains.

This puzzled him, like actually what gives? Why was he stranded in the middle of an alley way with little to no remembrance of the hours prior? He was just about ready to conclude he'd passed out, smacked his head so hard that his memories dissipated. He was about ready to get off the front floor with a huff and get back home so he could crawl in bed. Until a stung zapped him from his neck.