Velvet Necrosis • vampire tk

One

Taehyung can't remember how the world looks, through the eyes of a human.

He's read countless books about it over the centuries - psychology and biology and fictional depictions of vibrant landscapes and personal accounts of daily lives. He adored moving films once they were invented, loved the cinema even more. Hiding in the dark back corner, devoid of all the sounds scattered about carelessly by the living, he would stare into films after films of shrilling laughters, brimful tears, and flickering sunsets behind desperate kisses.

Did he live like that too? Did the world really feel like millions of frozen frames in front of a blinding light source, blurring shakily into an endless mirage of artificial emotions and hues, then is no more?

Taehyung can't remember how the world looks, through the eyes of his own humanity, for he's been dead for far too long. Longer than history books have records for, back when papyrus reeds shrouded the banks of the Nile like pillowy green mists, when wild eagles use to perch on the roof of the Roman forum before dawn break, their ominous squawking echoing in his daydreams.

No. These fascinations of mortal senses are ultimately hollow. The sun no longer ruddies his flawless olive toned skin, the pain and sorrow of the world never ripples his hazy thoughts, even the ferrorous slide of fresh blood on his tongue feels like murmurs through a veil, lost in a cacophony of static noise.

Taehyung hasn't felt anything for a very long time, until the day he sensed the presence of that young man from a distance, on a wintery night in the aspen forest of Ironwood.

At one point in history, Ironwood in upstate New York was the center of pretentious glamor. Just far enough from the metropolis to evoke a sense of sophisticated remoteness, old money families plopped down sprawling vacation homes in dense forests, with glistening ravines meandering through their acreages before joining the nearby Hudson River. The humid summers saw many a model T stuck in the uneven gravel roads, and the boisterous parties brightened the countryside night sky. Taehyung was half in slumber during those decades, the noises reaching into his matte black dreams, pushing out a half huff.

But industries came and went, and time eroded all wealth and power, no matter how fiercely it snarled and resisted before succumbing to a crumbling end. That much Taehyung is familiar with. Hell, even empires for which the sun never sets on would fade into obscurity.

He picks a house after the crowds have long dissipated, of cracked marble stairways and emerald green moss seeping into ornate golden wallpaper. The roof has caved in over the grand lobby where a thousand has swayed over sweet champagne, but Taehyung is fine with it. All the easier to see the icy crescent moon at night, to have the drifting snowflakes kiss his cheeks through the gaping opening. He's not on the surface most of the time anyways.

Behind the kitchen with an open hearth, under heavy oak double doors built into the tiled floor, a set of wide stairs spiral down down into the earth. First, a series of rooms for storage, with shelves holding yellowed relics of the forgotten. Taehyung leaves them untouched. Everyone has memories they cannot live without, and he likes to reserve some basic courtesy for the dead that may never be truly gone. Then, a cavernous wine cellar, the wiring for lights had long deteriorated into a mangled mess, Taehyung restores it but leaves candles around anyways. At the end of the expansive underground structure, lies what he truly buys the place for: an enormous stone structure, with an imposing door that he's since fortified with concrete and steel that no human has the strength to open. It was meant to keep the true treasures and prized artifacts of the previous owners, but Taehyung doesn't have the same need. The trinkets he's collected over the years are safely kept at the most modern banks and security establishments all over the world. No, money and even memories, for the most part, become a fleeting noise after centuries of solitude. What he needs instead is a place to rest once in a while and dream the years away. A safe haven. Home.

It was blissfully quiet for a while. The deers and rats keep him company, and the tree branches crackle and groan in the wind as he set up bonfire in the clear from time to time. He would linger for days, staring into the roaring flames, picturing how the flickering warmth would slither up his frozen skin, if he is to step in. Just one ginger step after another, like dipping into an amber, all consuming ring of final peace.

Not many things can kill him in the world anymore. The ocean only affords an endless and watery nightmare, the sun eventually gives him a drowsy headache, and all the human lores of what kills a vampire read like old jokes - the garlic, the silver, the dramatic stake through the heart... Like the fanciful imaginations of children, silly and tired.

Fire. Fire is the only way to elicit a pained tingle upon his skin. Such exquisite pain, such illusion of being alive. It's like a breath of fresh air after a long decaying nap, quiet literally.

If it weren't for the promise, he would've stepped in long ago. Welcoming the licking of the flames with open arms, closing his eyes for the last time and surrendering to the warmth.

But then, with a long sigh, Taehyung would blink and jolt out of reverie, and turn away from the bonfire.

The woods keep his secret. Until one day, he hears the distant rumbles of bulldozers, on the patch of land next to his.

Someone purchases another crumbling mansion next to his land, and starts renovating.

Taehyung thinks about leaving. It's been a long time since he's visited Tuscany, the scent of fermented grapes and dried lavender almost enough to compensate for the long turbulent ride in the stone sarcophagus. Or maybe New Orleans... a long stroll with Namjoon at night in the gaslamp lit Garden District, just like they used to during the good ol' Napoleonic days.

It takes him a while to gather up the energy to contact Jimin. The world is full of procedures and precautions, especially for an undead that prefers to stay incognito. Taehyung finds it all rather dull, which is why he has Jimin.

The cell phone rings, and rings. It's on the third call that Jimin picks up, voice hoarse and slow, "Yes..."

"Sorry for waking you up."

"No, you're not sorry." A long yawn, stretched out and breathed into the speaker, "What do you need?"

"Someone's building on the land next to mine."

"Hmm..."

Taehyung waits, but the hum fizzles into silence, "Wake up."

Another yawn, "Man, you're lucky you pay me too much."

Taehyunng concurs. He's never been stingy to the families that help him. Making money is easy when you got eternity on your side, but loyalty, loyalty has always been a priceless rarity.

Taehyung tries again, matter of factly, "I have to leave, or this person, whatever they're building, has to stop."

"Why? What are you, keeping a secret or something?"

Taehyung waits, until a chuckle breaks out on the other side of the speaker, light and melodic, "I'm joking. I know, I know, I'll sort it out, promise. Can I sleep now? You know, sometimes I wish that one of these years, you'll learn to text instead of call me at - what is it-" a rustle, "- 3:25 in the morning. Fuck, what happened to sleeping like the dead, master?"

Taehyung considers hanging up, but keeps silent instead.

"Come to think of it, I should also stock up your fridge while I'm at it, bring another case of noir. Hmm, I'll do that this week. But until then, can I go back to sleep now? Pretty please?"

"Thanks." Taehyung murmurs and hangs up the phone.

Technology. A strange necessity in this bizarre world that's continuously whizzing by in hyper speed.

Taehyung used to be sensitive to all the communication waves in the air, skin prickling under cracking high voltage power lines. But eventually, he's made peace with it all. Just another foe that cannot hurt him. Maybe it'll all come and go, like the great empires of yesteryears.

Jimin calls back in a few days, or weeks, Taehyung's not sure, proclaiming the landowner next door is almost done, "New money, trying to buy into some place of history. I heard they own lots of properties all over the world, this will just be a vacation home. I bet they won't even show up much. Can you wait, master? See how it goes?"

Taehyung taps on the wine glass, letting Jimin's jubilant chatter slide to the back of his mind, like waves receding on a beach. Tap, tap. The crimson hued liquid in the glass shivers to the motion.