In the small living room, the soft yellow light from the lamp spread across the space, casting a warm glow in the middle of the night. Thien Duc sat on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the television screen playing a calm, quiet movie. The steady sound of the dialogue blended with the soft wind brushing past the window.
But his eyelids grew heavier with each passing second. His breathing slowed, his body relaxing against the back of the chair. Before long, his eyes closed completely, drifting into sleep without even realizing it.
Huyet Minh sat beside him. The young man's blue eyes followed Thien Duc's every slight movement. A faint smile curved his lips, though it was impossible to tell if it was tender… or somehow satisfied.
"Are you tired already?" Huyet Minh whispered softly, his voice low enough that only he himself could hear.
Leaning closer, he quietly inhaled the subtle scent drifting from Thien Duc's body. It was sweet, warm, alive—something that seemed to wrap around every sense in Huyet Minh's being. A rush of excitement, primal and uncontrollable, welled up in his chest.
"Being this close… it's almost impossible to resist." The thought rippled through his mind, tinged with both hunger and a strange fragility.
Slowly, Huyet Minh lowered his head. His hand brushed lightly over Thien Duc's shoulder, lingering at the curve of his neck. His breath ghosted across that warm skin, making Thien Duc stir slightly in his sleep. But he did not wake.
A strange gleam flickered in Huyet Minh's eyes. Tilting his head, his tongue traced gently across the smooth skin, feeling the steady pulse beneath. For a brief moment, instinct swallowed all reason. Huyet Minh sank his fangs into Thien Duc's neck.
Warmth flooded his mouth instantly. The taste of blood—sweet, fresh—sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of ecstasy and something deeper, darker. He closed his eyes, savoring every drop, every heartbeat thrumming beneath his lips.
Thien Duc let out a faint groan, his body twitching at the unfamiliar sensation. His breathing grew heavier, but he still didn't wake. Huyet Minh paused, glancing at his sleeping face. Hunger still burned faintly in his gaze, but a flicker of gentleness pulled him back from the edge.
He murmured, his voice barely audible, swallowed by the night breeze:
"Do you know, Thien Duc… You make it impossible for me to stop. But I don't want to be the one who hurts you."
Gently, he brushed a lock of hair away from Thien Duc's face, his fingers gliding across the warmth of his cheek. Drawing in a deep breath, he forced himself to pull away before instinct overcame him once again.
Finally, Huyet Minh stood and retreated toward the window. Before vanishing into the darkness outside, he glanced back once more, his blue eyes glinting with a strange light—equal parts tender… and dangerous.
---
The next morning, pale sunlight slipped through the curtains, scattering across the quiet bedroom. Thien Duc opened his eyes, his body feeling heavy and sore. His neck and shoulders, in particular, throbbed faintly, as though he'd just woken from a long, exhausting dream.
Sitting up, he brushed his fingers against his neck. There were no bruises, no marks. Yet the lingering weariness clung stubbornly, as though his body had worked harder than his memory could recall.
"What… did I even do last night?" Thien Duc muttered, his brows furrowed.
A soft knock came at the door. Huyet Minh stood there, a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. The fragrant aroma filled the room, warming the morning air. His gentle smile gave away nothing about the night before.
"You woke up late today. This soup is good for your health—I made it just for you. Make sure you finish it," Huyet Minh said softly, his tone laced with nothing but concern.
Thien Duc accepted the bowl, though his eyes held a flicker of unease.
"Thanks… but… did something happen last night? I feel… strange."
Huyet Minh sat beside him, his expression calm, voice smooth as water:
"You fell asleep in the living room. I carried you to bed and went home. You probably just overworked yourself yesterday—that's why you're sore."
Thien Duc frowned slightly, unable to shake the feeling that something had happened. But the steadiness in Huyet Minh's eyes and voice left him with no room to press further.
"Maybe… I'm just imagining things," he thought, sipping the soup.
Huyet Minh sat in silence, watching him. In those blue eyes, gentleness mingled with something deeper—a quiet, unyielding claim—masking the hunger that had only just been sated the night before.
---
Later that morning, as the sun climbed higher, Huyet Minh knocked on Thien Duc's door again. His expression was as harmless as ever, his bright eyes carrying the air of an ordinary young man seeking a neighbor's help.
"Thien Duc! Are you home?" he called from outside.
Thien Duc opened the door, surprised. "Huyet Minh? This early? What is it?"
The boy scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly.
"I want to go to the supermarket, but… I don't know where the nearest one is."
Thien Duc raised a brow. "You don't know? Last time, you even brought me a huge bag of groceries."
Huyet Minh's smile faltered briefly, a fleeting shadow passing through his eyes before vanishing.
"Ah… last time I had someone else get them for me. This time, I want to go myself. Would you… come with me?"
Thien Duc glanced at the clock, exhaling a faint sigh. "Fine. But just for a bit. I still have a lot to do."
Huyet Minh's smile brightened, soft yet strangely triumphant. Stepping forward, his voice drifted, light as air yet oddly layered:
"Of course. I just… want to spend a little more time by your side."
Thien Duc hesitated for a heartbeat, then followed in silence. He never noticed the invisible tether tightening around him with every moment—the gentle smile, the quiet presence, the warmth that bound him not only with care… but with something far more consuming, something he had yet to recognize.