Chapter XX

A Drop of Water

T he ceiling overhead was so far out of reach that it could be expected the last to touch it were the ones who'd crafted it centuries ago. There was no light shining against the stunning stained glass, but the absence of light beaming onto its ornate and vibrant pattern didn't take away from its appeal. Everything about this room was extravagant. From the handmade, dark wood furnishings, rugs produced from the finest luxury materials, and the high-priced paintings adorning the walls — there was nothing about this place that didn't speak of three things: quality, history, and pride.

The quality was in the very makeup of this castle Min-jae found himself in.

The history clinging to the grounds spoke for itself when Min-jae would look out the tall, narrow windows and see the distant, historical landscape.

As for the pride, Min-jae didn't mean to pair the bad connotations others might attach to the word, but there had to be some form of steep pride resting in someone who owned a place like this, could keep up with it, and house those closest to him within its protective walls. This was the home Jeremiah had grown up in, and he'd been moved to lay comfortably in a bedroom with clearer air circulation.

Seated at Jeremiah's bedside, Min-jae had hardly left this place for longer than an hour or two, always to share a few words with his parents before high-tailing it here again. He thought it could be argued that his being here was unnecessary since Jeremiah already had so many people who cared worlds about him around.

It wasn't that they were too busy and hadn't the time to sit at Jeremiah's bedside for hours on end; several people would pop in through the days and nights to check on them, some being people Min-jae had yet to be introduced to. They would come and go, but if there was something they all had in common, it was the distress that coursed through them upon realizing harm had been brought to Jeremiah. They all worried for him. They all loved him in their own way.

Min-jae had come to see there were many people who loved Jeremiah in their own authentic ways. Whether they were family by blood or by marriage, Min-jae wasn't the only person so near at all times, and after this seventh night of no movement kicked up, a woefulness began to rise in Min-jae. He believed there had to be some way to get Jeremiah to open his eyes already, but his fears lied in not being enough to work wonders if it was possible.

Min-jae was just Min-jae, perhaps not what Jeremiah needed, and surely not special enough to bring him out of this state.

Stealing his eyes from the ceiling as he sat at Jeremiah's bedside, Min-jae looked to the sleeping dhampir. There was peace in the manner Jeremiah slept. He looked unperturbed, and the tranquility of his still visage at least reassured he was no longer hurt.

Pushing himself up from the chair, Min-jae instead sat beside Jeremiah, weight sinking against the mattress when he did. All this time, he'd try to resist laying a hand on Jeremiah. When he did so, it was only his fingertips he allowed to graze the other dhampir, brushing fair strokes down Jeremiah's cheek, the back of his hand, or against the stream of his hair.

Min-jae didn't want to say he'd become obsessed with Jeremiah during this time they've known each other. Obsession also had negative undertones, didn't it? But was there something wrong with promptly developing feelings for another person? More so, was it wrong when it seemed the time leading to this realization was relatively short?

"I haven't known you for long," Min-jae said, keeping to his native tongue as his words whispered into the room. "But I want to know you so much more."

As Min-jae brought his fingers down warily, they disappeared into the dark flow of Jeremiah's two-toned hair, and he leaned in closer and pressed his nose against the lavender and earthy scent.

They were both dhampir's, and Min-jae was sure Jeremiah remembered it, too, but was it strange to be able to recount the first time Jeremiah touched him? The moment was seared into Min-jae's mind, each detail in immense clarity.

From the warmth that'd taken his hands, how strong Jeremiah's aura had been then and was no more, his smell, the calming yet distinctive complexities that made Jeremiah his own person…all of it…every aspect was so contrary to now.

"You may not want to," Min-jae said. "But when you wake up, and I believe you will, it would be nice to take you away. Not from your family, but somewhere it can be you and I for a while. I feel like I haven't been given a chance to be with you. With everything going on, I'm afraid we won't be given that chance for a while."

Min-jae looked down on Jeremiah's sleeping countenance. If Jeremiah opened his eyes right now, perhaps he would jump from how face-to-face they were. Min-jae touched his nose to Jeremiah's and nestled in, wanting so badly to embrace him and squeeze and never unleash him until there was a sign of acknowledgement.

"Would you like that?" Min-jae asked. "Would you go away with me, Jeremiah? It doesn't have to be far, maybe just far enough for you to be unrecognized. I know my home is where all this nonsense originated, but your father told me no harm should ever touch the village again, and Kyung-hwan is gone. With its safety returned, I think you would like my home."

Despite the momentary bad that was hidden in the dark of Saengsacho, Min-jae would stand by the fact that the village was one of the most enchanted wonders of Korea. It was historical and quaint, always vibrant from the time and effort put forth by those who called it home to preserve its grandeur. Min-jae only hated the idea that one of the beautiful aspects of Saengsacho turned out to have a hidden flaw.

While destructive on the inside, nothing could take away the outward beauty of Saengsacho's cherished flower, and Min-jae hoped the discovery of it wouldn't mean the end of the Pyrenean.

As legend would have it, the Pyrenean first blossomed in the area after a struggle to overtake the land was lost by foreign invaders. The delightful violets sprung up all over as if congratulating a job well done, like the Earth was giving his ancestors a bundle of beauty for holding fast to this place in the world that was all their own.

The Pyrenean was a flower given out for birthdays, weddings, funerals, and as loving reminders of fondness, as its meaning for the people equated its offering to promising endeavors no matter what path life opened up ahead. Whether it be birth, marriage, annual celebrations or even death, nothing could take away the weight of what it meant to the people who revered it the most.

Placing his hand entirely upon Jeremiah's cheek, Min-jae swept his thumb lightly against the surface. "If not there," he continued, "I would look forward to going anywhere with you. You showed me so much yet so little during this time, and I would be glad to see more beside you. I've spent all my life at home, but there are things I've dreamt of doing at least once. The beach near to my home is beautiful, and I've walked its shore countless times, but…do you want to know what I always wished for when I was younger?"

No answer was given, but Min-jae was able to smile against the line of Jeremiah's lips.

"I've always wanted to enjoy the beach with someone I…with someone I value as more than a friend. Have you ever been to the beach?"

With how long Jeremiah had known this world before him, Min-jae was sure the sleeping dhampir had visited countless beaches in his life already. It was safe to say he'd been to many.

"Would you walk with me?" Min-jae asked. "I want to walk with you."

An approach of footsteps drew Min-jae out of what he guessed were his own selfish thoughts, and he stood away from Jeremiah's side when a light rap touched the bedroom door, and it came open.

"Sorry to disturb," a voice came. When Min-jae looked toward young Sebastian Titus, he was greeted with a warm nod.

Whenever any of the younger Titus boys entered the bedroom, there was always a dithering that accompanied, as if they thought they might be intruding even though this was very much their home, and Jeremiah was someone they were allowed to see whenever they liked. The sadness, however, appeared to be what held them off before entering anyways.

"You're perfectly fine," Min-jae said, watching the boy enter.

Sebastian carried with him a mug that let off a mouthwatering scent. He was dressed comfortably in joggers and a loose T-shirt, and his similar blonde and black hair was pushed away from his forehead. "You don't come down from here much," Sebastian said. "Thought I'd bring you something to drink."

"Thank you," Min-jae accepted the offered mug and looked into the dark crimson. "I don't mean to stay away from everyone. For some reason, it's difficult to want to be away from him."

"You just want to be the first person he sees when he wakes up," Sebastian tried to jest, his words enough to bring a smile to Min-jae's face.

It was true. That was something he wanted. Not out of a sense of greed, but he wanted Jeremiah to know right away that he was here.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Sebastian said. "If you need anything, everyone is here besides my father. There's only so much I know about the Public, but I can't believe they're officially being done away with. From what I know due to my parents, it's been a long time coming." Sebastian backed away to the door. "Sorry, I'm rambling. If you need anything, don't be afraid to—."

Min-jae interrupted. "What do you know about this Slayer Public? I was raised knowing nothing about this world, but I want to know more. If I had, I could have prevented things before they happened."

"I doubt that," Sebastian said, voice oddly assuring. "From what my father told us, only one man had contact with them, right? And since the Public's presence wasn't so big across Korea anyways, immortals over there were probably never too concerned with them. If they were, I bet your parents would have taken a lot more precautions. Instead, you were able to grow up in peace and quiet."

Regardless of the reassurance, Min-jae still wanted to know more, but he figured letting the topic go for now was best. He would put all his focus here for now, on Jeremiah; the person who was of the utmost importance to him at this moment. There would always be room to speak about the past later, but nothing would ever be more central than right now.

Alone with Jeremiah again, Min-jae took a seat in the bedside chair and downed the blood given to him. Minutes passed into yet another hour, again and again until the sun was in the sky and below the horizon once more.

It was this eighth day without so much as a sign of brain activity when Min-jae's worry began to shift into a downward spiral.

Hamilton and Jeremiah's brothers came to check in, Dominick and others, all for everyone to see there seemed no way to tell if Jeremiah would ever resurface from his rest.

He was alive, and his blood ran faster in his veins, but his aura had shrunk even more from the little bit it'd turned into. He was beginning to feel so unlike himself, nothing like the powerful dhampir he'd grown into, but there was something that began to stick out.

While everyone talks of how distant you seem, Min-jae thought, I feel closer to you.

And there was only one explanation he had for picking up on a sensation so intimate. Min-jae recalled the faint taste of Jeremiah's blood when he'd drunk it down, how whole his heart was when holding Jeremiah in his arms as it'd filled his stomach. He'd been permitted to consume as much as Jeremiah would allow, and despite the lacking zest, it was the hooks fastened to him now, stitched into his veins and around his heart, that made the notion of being far from him — far from Jeremiah feel…rather frightening. He wanted to be close always, but when Jeremiah awakened, would he want that, too?

Absorbed by this beauty carrying into his nose, Min-jae sat beside Jeremiah again and leaned into him, one hand placed against the blond half of his hair, and he turned his face into the crook of Jeremiah's neck. "I'm waiting," Min-jae said. "I'm not going anywhere until it's with you."

***

A drop of water against a still lake's surface. Disturbance ripples in a melodic rhythm, an echo carrying as waves surge onto a distant shoreline. A pair of eyes watches from afar.

The ripples reach onto the sand, pulling with it grains once untouched by time. Each caress pulses back and forth and when the bemused soul steps forward as if to enter this landlocked lake, he is thrust into an impossible deep. Submerged within this haze of clear blue, bubbles emerge from below, escaping to a surface far out of reach.

What is going on?

Able to see the silver glow let off by the moon, it seems a struggle for its light to come through.

A desperation ensues. The drowned soul pushes upwards and onwards to break the surface, but each progression proves futile.

His teeth grit and with one last effort, the struggle wanes, and he stops once more, floating in this moonlit pocket of void.

The dark is lonely. Uncertain.

A spark of color appears before him. Round and no bigger than a spec, its edges glow faintly, and it seems to hesitate, curious and cautious.

Wary eyes watch as the blue orb draws nearer, taking its time until a sense of courage passes through.

The fluttering color seems to excite, twirling and looping in turns of glee. It whirls around the anxious soul, coiling from his legs to his waist and through the lush flow of his hair. It pauses before his face then, incredulous eyes staying on this radiant sphere.

What are you?

There's hesitation in the water, but he raises his hands still, collecting the warm bubble of light and love into the palms of his hands. A smile nearly touches his lips until the orb dashes away.

Before he can reach out to catch it once more, the watery burst of light rushes into him, vanishing without a trace into his abdomen.

He's filled with sorrow.

***

"I'm not going anywhere until it's with you."

The mild utterance whispered against Jeremiah's ear, and his eyes fluttered open. These surroundings were familiar, just as the press of Min-jae partially atop him passed a familiarity into him. This warmth was known, soothing, the sweetness awfully consoling when breathed in through Jeremiah's nose. There was something in him that wanted to hold onto this, the moment and every second that proved time could still move when all he wanted was a pause to it all. If he could stop the world for just a moment, he would pay any price so that nothing demolished this peace of mind.

Moving slowly as fatigue weighed him down, Jeremiah gently brought his arms around Min-jae, causing a shock of awe and disbelief, and the Korean dhampir jolted upright.

The dark browns looking into Jeremiah were despairing, as if they'd been on the verge of giving up hope. There was a question of ‘what are you doing here?' sitting at the tip of Jeremiah's tongue, but the answer was so abundantly clear.

In this quiet taking up every nook and cranny of the bedroom, Min-jae leaned into Jeremiah again and wrapped him up. Their hold on one another was equally desperate and reassuring.

With no interruptions, no outside forces wedging between them, the two hopelessly bound dhampirs clutched so tightly that the pressure put forth around Jeremiah seemed to engrave Min-jae's impression into him .

"I could hear you," Jeremiah confessed, having been able to perceive the whispers of Min-jae's hope for him to awaken. "And I want to go with you."

"Do you?" Min-jae asked, the question coming out in surprise. He brought himself away a little, Jeremiah's hands clasping the back of his shirt tighter so he wouldn't escape too far. "This is your home. Your father has been busy clearing the world of—."

"I don't care about any of that right now," Jeremiah said, voice tired. "I don't want to think about anything else. I don't care about what's going on in the world. I want to go with you. Anywhere. To do anything."

Min-jae remained still, Jeremiah's fingers gripped his shirt in plea. "Anywhere?" he asked.

"Anywhere."

Min-jae glanced over his shoulder as if anyone would enter the bedroom. He was grateful for the privacy he'd been given to be able to be alone up here with Jeremiah. Everyone who called this place home was currently within its walls, and when he tested the reach of his senses, Min-jae noticed the draw of who he guessed was Demiesius getting closer to check in.

"You are sure?" Min-jae asked.

"I'm positive," Jeremiah answered with no trace of regret for this decision that was all his own.

He already knew disappointment would arise from various places, and he hated to think about what thoughts and feelings were bound to come forth, but he had to do this for himself. Mentally and physically, Jeremiah was so drained and if there was anything he could say he absolutely needed right now, it would be to get away.

Just for a while .

To breathe.

Min-jae assisted the weary dhampir to his feet, fatigue coming through, and he hurriedly secured Jeremiah in an embrace when his knees nearly gave out. "I'll take you somewhere safe," he said, the mellow, deep drag of his Korean tongue dancing against Jeremiah's ear. "No one will be able to touch you there. I won't let them."

In the second the bedroom door came open, the black mists of Min-jae's mastering spirited them away to a place not so secret, but surely far enough to warrant security.

When the world opened up to them again, the morning-lit walls of Min-jae's bedroom in Saengsacho came into view.

Jeremiah's eyes wandered the personal space touched with who Min-jae was and had grown into in this place. It had all the unique charm of a hanok, pale flooring and ivory white and natural wood walls. There was only one window covered by short drapes, but the partially papered walls allowed the brilliance of the sun to bring life into the interior.

Min-jae's bed was full-sized and unmade, thick beige blankets and pillows telling of the last time he'd risen from the sheets. A low desk across the way was littered with important papers; posters and a cork board in front of it was covered with reminders, an abundance of keychains, and there were shelves packed with books with a focus on agriculture and other material from Min-jae's days in university. This room was simple yet lived in, told a story, and Jeremiah appreciated its authentic pleasantry.

All four walls were touched by personal charm and could bring out who Song Min-jae was as a person, what his priorities were just by looking around at what adorned the walls and shelves, and Jeremiah's regard for Min-jae opened wider and wider when he caught sight of an old art piece hanging behind the door.

Jeremiah had seen similar depictions before in books, and this one appeared as old as the ones displayed during his studies. Referred to as ‘munjado', it was a type of minhwa art of the Chinese character for ‘filial duty' painted in thick black ink. Surrounding the scrawled lines were additional images of vegetation; trees, shrubs, and small birds, but the most prominent was the appearance of twining, long-stemmed violets surrounding the brush strokes. The art piece looked both haunting and lovely, but ultimately spoke of Min-jae as a servant to this place he called home, rather than simply a dutiful son to two parents who'd raised him to be a good man.

"Stay here," Min-jae said then, stepping out of his shoes. "I'll be right back."

Jeremiah watched him leave, stepping out of his shoes as well, and he placed them beside the door. He knew this choice he'd made would cause even more of a ruckus, but Jeremiah hadn't been able to fight the desire to disappear.

Reminders of his ordeal poured through his thoughts, flashing the callous agonies and horrors that'd carried from his wound and into his bones and heart.

Touching a hand to his lower stomach, Jeremiah lifted his shirt and peered at the additional scar left to mark him. It was small, but the jab had been deep and beyond painful. He could still imagine how the blade had twisted into him before he'd bashed the assailant's head against an unyielding surface, the things he'd said as Sebastian supported his weariness.

Jeremiah wasn't ashamed of the amount of blood to touch his hands as of late, but there was a part of him that wanted to bring an indefinite stop to it. He didn't want to be consumed by the bad anymore.

Min-jae returned and guided Jeremiah through the sunlit halls of the hanok and to a bathroom. The white tiles of the walls and floor were spotless and the area was relatively small, the shower turned on and the mirrors were beginning to fog.

"Take your time," Min-jae said, gesturing to a towel and a washcloth on the nearby sink. "I won't be far."

Alone now, Jeremiah undressed and stepped beneath the cleansing water and washed away what days and nights he'd been asleep. He didn't feel dirty but there was a small perspiration to touch his skin during his slumber. He wasn't sure why, but his pulse had been up as he'd slept, like his body was exhausting itself in keeping his heart rate up and blood moving.

As Jeremiah dragged the lathered washcloth over his body, he recalled the bizarre, watery dream he'd experienced before coming to. The water, the darkness, the delightful bubble that glowed and twirled before vanishing into him. What had that been? He often dreamed and most were visions he'd rather leave him be, but he oddly wished to see the gleam again.

Able to recount how tuneful the wisps such a gentle vibrancy left behind as it'd turned around him, Jeremiah envisioned how the light had danced and whirled until evanescing into him.

Nudged by suspicion, Jeremiah placed both hands at his stomach, eyes fixed on the drain as water and soap spiraled down into it. Having often been more in tune with his strengths and reach of his aura, this was the first time it'd ever been so small against his own will, but something was off. Something was different, all its own and as separate from him as it was a part of him .

If his suspicions were correct, he wasn't perplexed by the thought of it being true, more so his recklessness in not seeing this as an outcome right away.

Shutting off the water, Jeremiah stepped from the tub and dried himself off, wringing his hair out, and he left the towel on the sink. His mind stayed on the peculiar quality taking up room inside of him, all while following the draw that led him back to Min-jae's bedroom.

The Korean dhampir was inside tidying up the area, having sorted out the mess atop his desk. He hardly had time to touch the bed when he turned to Jeremiah in the doorway.

Min-jae's face warmed at the sight of Jeremiah standing nude in the threshold, damp hair holding more twists than it typically did when dry. He didn't mean to, but Min-jae couldn't help himself from fanning his eyes down all of Jeremiah. He was too sightly not to admire every feature.

Before Min-jae could open his mouth with a query, Jeremiah moved into the Korean dhampir's hold.

More than just Jeremiah's heart desired this nearness, this connection joining them. There wasn't anything in him that wanted to tear himself away, and the earnest plea bustling through him mimicked what pushed through Min-jae. Everything was the epitome of mutuality, and if there was anything they had in common, it was how strongly their cravings to be together possessed them.

"Touch me, Min-jae," Jeremiah said between a breathy kiss, the sparks he pined for returning to his veins in hot, urgent flashes, and they descended further until they lay atop the cloud of Min-jae's bed. "Touch me like before."

Min-jae nodded as their tongues twirled and his hands explored Jeremiah's sensitive surface. "Like before," he said, the exhilaration pumping through his veins from being able to hear this voice again. "I can be all that you need."