something old, something new | taekook

Chapter 1: The Color Of Passion, Lust, and Murder

this is originally a twitter au of mine- check it out on twitter to get the first look of every chapter.

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It's too much, it's too much, it's too much.

Red on his hands, his lips, his face, his clothes-

Jeongguk can't stop, he can't stop, he can't stop, he can't stop, he can't stop.

He doesn't know where he is, but he doesn't care. Only cares about the blood, the proverbial liquid gold dripping from his mouth.

There's blood on his hands (the nurse on the first floor, the woman in the elevator, the man in the maintenance room, the kid-) and he can't resist the urge to lick at his fingers as the elevator drops another floor.

It's depraved, careless, mindless, but he can't help how he sobs out a moan at the taste.

When was the last time he was able to drink so much?

He's going down, down, down and he watches the numbers drop, drop, drop from where's slumped against the wall. He doesn't know where he's ended up but he doesn't care.

He's desperate. He just needs- he just needs food.

He needs it.

He craves it.

He-

He can't stop.

Jeongguk stumbles out of the blood-soaked elevator, his shoes squeak across the linoleum as something drips from his hair, down his nose, off his chin. There's a door down the hall, lights lower than they were on the floor above.

He can't hear anything past the door ("-you'll be better than them, Guk, your senses will be leagues above the humans-'") and it makes his stomach rumble.

Maybe, maybe, maybe-

Wet palms press against the metal and it feels cool against his skin. He tries to push it, tries to tear and pull like he'd been taught he could do, but...

Nothing.

It doesn't move and he growls around the fangs he's still not used to, the razor-sharp incisors that tear his gums.

"Oh?"

Jeongguk stills at the echo in his mind. A voice in his head? He knows it's another of Them (who are They?), another like Him (Him?), and like himself. He knows (or does he?) and it terrifies him, but the voice only laughs softly, the baritone both warm and ice cold at the same time.

"Come in, fledgling."

As smooth as butter the metal door slid open, all six inches of titanium that he can now see. There's no light in the room but it's no bother. The haze in Jeongguk's mind- the bloodlust, the craving, the need- subsides as he focuses on the room.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty thing?"

"Uh." Jeongguk's tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he stumbles over his words, and the figure lounged across the velvet chaise laughs softly.

The room is lavishly decorated, at total odds with the gray monochrome of the hallway (minus the red prints that trailed after him). A lamp sits beside the figure and Jeongguk's mouth dries at the smirk on their face.

One of Them? One of himself? The same but different? Jeongguk's thoughts haven't made sense for a very long time and he finds himself spiraling even deeper into the pitfall of his delirium.

He's gorgeous, almost too gorgeous. Black hair that falls into his eyes, black eyes that are laser-focused on Jeongguk's frozen form, black nails tapping quietly against the arm of his seat.