you'd think with the master of the house dead that taemin wouldn't feel the need anymore to be so damn finicky about cleaning this mansion. for the last year, he's been hating the housework that is forced on him, he's always been so frustrated by it and dragged his feet to do it. he never understood why they had so many chores when there was only three people in the whole building. yang never had any visitors up until a few days ago, but yet he insisted the place always look immaculate.
and now that he's dead, taemin should feel more... freedom. he should be kicking his feet up, relaxing, waiting for the snow to melt, maybe having sex with soojung in the backroom like usual. or the front room. or any room. ding, dong, the witch is dead-- taemin should feel elated.
instead he is nervous, pacing the hallways at night and clinging onto his butler duties as though they are the only things worth doing anymore. he has definitely gotten snider and angrier since yang's death, suspicious of everyone, even his own shadow, but if anything he's been working harder to clean and tidy things. perhaps it's the year spent under yang's tutelage, or perhaps he's subconsciously looking for those diamonds, but either way he can't seem to stop.
he goes into the gallery despite the fact that it is his least favorite room to be in. it's creepy, there's a lot of faces and paintings hanging up on the walls, lots of dog paintings for no reason. the dogs ones freak him out the worst, they look dead inside. it gives him shivers.
but he does his best to ignore it and focus on just setting things right inside the room, picking up any sort of clutter he sees and wiping off the tables. it's a good long minute before he turns and sees one of the guests sitting in a chair, and he jumps right out of his skin. "holy shit!" he curses, his nerves all on edge. he hadn't seen him there before, hadn't even realized anyone was in here, and he has to take a moment to calm his heart rate down before looking back again at the guest (what is his name again?).
"I'm um... i'm sorry sir, i didn't see you. i thought this room was empty..." why in the world would anyone want to come in here to chill anyway? "I didn't mean to bother you, mister.....?" he honestly can't remember this guy's name.
thankfully taemin and jinah haven't spent much of the last few days around each other. they are all in the same boat of course, trapped in this house surrounded by snow and miles of wilderness and water, but the two of them haven't occupied a similar space together alone since that first day on the steps outside when she'd been bitchy and demanding, firing him as though she had the right to. the encounter has left such a dreadful taste in his mouth that he actively avoids her in the mansion, refusing to show her to yang's bedroom, and mostly just leaving her up to soojung's care.
soojung seems to hate her quite a lot too, which is a satisfaction finding out, since more often then not taemin usually tends to hate things all alone. back when he lived in france, it was especially an issue, given that his mother and sister both did their bests to keep a positive outlook on life. that is... until his sister got hurt and everything went to hell in a hand-basket.
he doesn't like being in the same room as jinah, wants her to go away so he can get some food for himself. he doesn't even want to think about how she's fucking up his kitchen, what she's doing wrong and how she's already harming everything he's put so much effort into. he glares and walks around the island counter, his brow furrowed low, his eyes dark. "this kitchen does belong to me actually, it's my area for use." he'd kicked out every chef yang had tried to hire, furious at how badly they prepared everything, at how inadequate their styles were.
taemin is able to cook plenty of meals in a variety of different ways, as well as keeping up with the housework. the housework isn't even all that much, given the fact that as of a few days ago, it only held three people maximum for a year. what the hell else was he supposed to do with the emptiness of days, the boredom he endured whenever soojung was busy?
"and i'm pretty sure i do belong to myself now that the master is-- what again? oh yeah, a fucking corpse." he takes her by her elbows and shuffles her away from the stove forcibly, willing to use the strength of his whole body if he has to. he will wrestle her onto the ground and tie her up if it will teach her a lesson to not touch his goddamn kitchen again. "of course i know how to cook, you evil cow. sit the fuck down." he directs her onto a stool, making damn sure she sits her tight little ass onto it, and gives her a long, stern look.
"i'll make you food if you promise to just fucking sit there, alright? one more snide word from you and i'll take everything edible out of this damn kitchen and toss it out the window, we clear?" he doesn't wait for her to nod or anything, certain she's going to spew something venomous at him anyway, turning his attention instead to the hot pan and the mess she's made.
"pretty princess doesn't know how to cook..." he mutters, tossing the pan into the sink and opting instead for two large pots. he gets out a number of ingredients, chops them up on the cutting board and begins making a stew in no time. rice is a must of course, along with a few other side pieces that he handles with ease and experience. in another life he might have been a chef himself.
"i donāt want to hear any preferences either, okay?" he tells her, pointing at her with a big wooden spoon. "you're going to like what i give you. i can guarantee that." why did that sound more sexual than he intended it to?
hey so i just wanna apologize for my lack of activity!!! it's been a stressful couple of days for my mun OTL but !!!! I will be here to reply to things tomorrow !!! hopefully i'll get caught up a bit more because ily all ok <3
'FOR ALL THE GHOSTS THAT ARE NEVER GONNA CATCH MEā
THE GUN SHOT rings through the mansion like a tear in the space-time continuum and everything in taemin's body freezes like a picture. his mind goes completely blank, nothing but white noise echoing inside his ears. for a moment he is so stunned, he doesn't know what that sound was, his brain flipping through the pages of synonyms for what it could have been. maybe it was something falling, or something banging? could it have been a single firework going off somewhere? he isn't sure how that makes any sense, but the idea of a gun going off doesn't make sense either.
when he first sees hyunwoo walking through the hallway with the gun in his hand, taemin's blood runs cold and the air around him refuses to enter his lungs. he isn't sure what to say or how to dissolve the situation, but he knows that he must, as quickly as possible. he can't let hyunwoo have it, he can't let him keep it. god knows what he'll find on it or with it, and taemin would rather just shoot himself in the head then let his secret come loose.
he tries not to let his shaking hands be too obvious, folding them in front of him while he does his best to convince hyunwoo not to call a meeting, that it would only worry everyone. he tries not to seem too panicked, tries to keep his voice low as usual and his eyes dead like normal. he doesn't let any emotion come onto his face, except for that split second of surprise when he first saw him. that's plenty acceptable though, right? surprise at seeing a gun? at seeing hyunwoo with a gun? it doesn't exactly paint hyunwoo as the murderer, simply because he's found it, but it's not a good, safe feeling, knowing he has it.
taemin would much rather get it back, honestly. more than any amount of diamonds or jewelry yang might have stashed in this house, taemin needs to get that gun back before they find something incriminating on it. he's not sure how, but his mind is reeling too much to think clearly.
is he breathing heavily? is he seeing straight? he has got to keep his wits about him, not look too distracted or terrified. never let them see you afraid.
as one might expect, taemin rushes towards the source of the sound, assuming it came from the room where he'd left yang and a mysterious stranger together alone. he doesn't know who this guy is, only that he had been invited to the party in a few days, along with a number of other strangers, and yet, here he is quite early. taemin hadn't had anything ready for him, and was quite surprised to see him on the front doorstep, but the man huffed and puffed his way inside anyway.
the guy looked really awful, unshaven, disheveled, sort of a mess, and taemin had wondered why yang would want him there in the first place, but he'd insisted that he'd been invited to the party. even after explaining that the party wasn't for a few more days, he was insistent. taemin brought him to yang in the greenhouse, then left as instructed, and the only things he could catch before leaving earshot was that they knew each other and this man was very, very angry at yang.
he listens to hyunwoo reveal his experience with the gun and holds his thoughts in the palms of his hands, gripping his fists tightly, folded behind his back as he stands against the wall. he is watching them all sitting in dining room, his eyes flitting across the room at everyone's shocked faces because, of course, they wouldn't know anything about it. well, maybe soojung might have some suspicions, but she hadn't been there in the greenhouse, she doesn't know what went down.
if he speaks up now, they'll all assume he's the culprit, of everything. they're all rich and free, what the fuck do they know about blackmail or how one person can hold so much power over another? what the fuck do they know about pain and entrapment?
when he gets to the greenhouse, the man is a mess on the floor, the blood is everywhere and yang is yelling at him.
"what the hell did you do?!" taemin tries not to hyperventilate, but he's only ever seen so much blood one time before, and that guy, his former friend, had been dying in a gutter at the time. this man is definitely dead, that's for sure; eyes open, bullet hole in the chest.
"i had no choice, alright?!" comes the reply, which isn't something taemin believes entirely, because what sort of logic is that? "he came here to kill me! do you hear me?"
taemin can't even look up from the body, can't take his eyes off the blood, can't focus on anything except for the fact that someone has just died in the house he's hiding in to get away from a murder charge. this is such a clusterfuck. he starts sputtering, and talking nonsense-- they should call the police, but the police can't be here, and how the hell are they gonna explain this to soojung, and--
yang grabs him tightly by the back of the neck, his meaty fingers gripping him painfully and tightly enough to make bruises. it's something yang does often, which is why taemin has to always wear classic butler uniforms; the cravat covers the marks. "listen to me, you worthless piece of shit, you are going to do what i tell you, or you're dead, do you understand me?" he aims the gun directly into taemin's face. "do you understand me?"
he listens to anything anyone has to say on the subject, stays mute while they all wonder about where the gun could have come from. he wants to stop them when hyunwoo and eunji suggest hiding the gun, but there's nothing he can say to convince them not to, except the fact that he wants it... but he can't give himself away, he can't let anything slip. not while there's a detective sitting right there, scanning everyone's faces.
he must remain resolute, like a statue, eye-contact with no one, because he can't hold his gaze in one place long enough, except zeroed in on the weapon on the table. he must get it back. he doesn't know what sort of clues are on that thing, doesn't know how many bullets are left, but he knows...
if they bury it, he will unbury it. if they hide it, he will find it. he knows ways about this mansion that no one else, not even soojung, knows. he'll watch them, he'll come for it. if he has to, he'll kill for it.
"here, take this and hide it," yang commands, shoving the gun into taemin's hands while he himself starts trying to move the body. taemin has to think quickly, which is damn near impossible at the moment, but he sees a plant and digs a hole in the soil. this will have to be good enough.
after that, he and yang pick the body up and take it outside to hide it. the blood gets everywhere on taemin's clothes and the floor and the walls and the ground outside. it takes him hours to wash everything down, three showers to rid himself of the smell of blood, and a lie to soojung about feeling too sick to keep her company. she doesn't seem to know anything and taemin would rather keep it that way.
he stands completely still and motionless in his bedroom, in the center of this madness, and feels like a ghost inside his own body. is he dead yet?
he wheezes a bit, the air around him completely still, until she starts laughing at him cruelly and he suddenly realizes what has just happened. she's just played him, just scared him for no reason, standing there in the dark like a creepy ghost lady, just so she could have her kicks. his look of fear and shock quickly deteriorate into frustration and anger as he clenches his teeth and pushes her offered hand away. he's not on the floor and he's not a damsel, so he quickly steps around her and away from her, even though he keeps an eye on her. "i creeped you out? you're the one making weird high-pitched singing and then screaming at me."
she certainly talks a lot, probably in something of a panic. and with good reason, he thinks as he watches her cross her legs like an adolescent. with a few blinks and a sharp readjustment of his shirt, he nods to her. "of course, miss, let me show you the way to the restrooms right now." he holds a hand out for her, gesturing that she ought to follow him, even though he's not too keen on the idea of her trailing along behind him. or being around him at all. but he understands how difficult it can be to find things in this mansion, it's a lot bigger than it looks.
he swallows thickly when she mentions about the murderer, giving her a side-eyed glance as she did. she sounds way too flippant about the situation and the danger, and he can't help but worry that she doesn't fully understand what's going on around her. "are you joking? of course i know about the murderer, but your dishes and laundry aren't going to do themselves, are they?" god, rich people-- he hated them. bunch of useless pricks. "you ought to know better than to wander around also, you don't even know where you're going."
he could be leading her to the dungeon for all she knows. he could kill her for all anybody would care. but then again, he doesn't know if that's true, perhaps she's made friends already. in any case, he doesn't want her to be thinking the same thing about him, doesn't want to think that maybe this could all be some ruse to get him further from the bedrooms so no one could see her kill him. he'll just have to keep his wits about him as he directs her to the bathrooms. "do you know your way back to your bedroom, or do you need me to stay with you?"
taemin listened to her words, to her claims of innocence, and tried to believe them. he really did try. she was close to him in a strange, push-pull type of way, and he valued her. he didn't want to think she could be capable of murder. not that it took very much-- as he well knew. he'd killed before and it had been an accident. perhaps this was an accident as well? he wanted to ask her, but she seemed pressed enough as it was and probably wouldn't react well to him continuing an investigation on her. they were already in the midst of a detective for that sort of thing.
but he just couldn't entirely write her out either. who else could have known that yang was in his office? there's no telling how long soojung stayed in this room before screaming and bringing everyone to her-- it's entirely possible that she staged.... something. that she killed him and then set everything up to look like she'd simply walked in on him on the ground like that. he wished he could say he knew her enough to trust her but in situations like these, did anyone really know each other?
he avoids her question about hiding something, opting instead to draw in a deep breath. pushing her on the subject would probably not get her to answer anything more, sadly enough. at least not now, not with everyone standing there, full of their own thoughts and reactions. he would have to wait at least, wait until they were alone, wait until she was less guarded and stressed out. he would need to be less stressed out as well.
"screw the snowstorm--" he scoffed, shaking his head slightly and looking away from her. he was having a difficult time meeting her eyes at all during this entire exchange now, trying to think, trying to plan. "we can't just leave right now, soojung, there's a detective here. you donāt think he would on us like flies?" he spoke in a low whisper now, the edges of his words getting caught on his teeth. "he'd find us immediately and then we'd go to jail for being suspicious."
he looked over his shoulder to peer at minho. there was obviously something very off about that guy, but if he was who he said he was, taemin couldn't risk it. he was here in south korea to avoid going to prison, he wasn't about to jeopardize that after already fucking things up back home. that was the last thing he needed; someone running a background check on him. they'd figure things about too fast and he wasn't ready. the whole reason he was out here in the middle of fucking nowhere was to escape a situation just exactly like this one.
more worrisome however was how excited soojung was all of a sudden about leaving. he frowned, glancing at her, but then looked away towards the body. she sure seemed eager to get out of here, for someone so innocent. isn't that what guilty people do? run away? once again, that would be from his own personal experience. "how in the hell would we live though, anyway? we have to pay the boatman with something? i don't have any money, because i've been fucking stuck here in this mansion and yang wasn't exactly forthcoming about where he kept his money." he tilted his head, squinting at her incredulously. "unless you know something i don't?"
he sighed and nodded, quickly resolving himself to the arduous task of moving the body. it would be heavier than shit and probably stink. he was not looking forward to that, but then all his attention snapped into focus when she mentioned the man from a few days ago.
taemin's head shot up like a bullet, his eyes wide staring at her, his lips a thin white line. he dropped her hands in shock, his heart pounding against his chest like a sledgehammer. for a moment, his brain went blank and all his thoughts scattered in panic. it wasn't his fault, it wasn't his battle, he hadn't done anything, but the fact that she knew about it, that she was openly saying it now.... "what..?" his voice sounded ghostly, even to his own ears. "what are you... you don't-... know what you're talking about."
he turned away from her entirely, addressing everyone in a loud, albeit nervous voice, telling them to all wait patiently in the dining room for himself and soojung to return and show them all to their rooms. obviously they would still need to stay the night, because of the storm, but they would need to get rid of the body first. after his speech was made and they all filtered out of the room, he walked over to yang's body and picked up his arms, dragging him a little bit. "come on," he kept his eyes low, fixed on the ground. "grab his legs. we'll go through the greenhouse."
he turns a corner though and hears someone behind him, just for a split moment and the feeling makes him jump out of his skin. āwhat the fuck! whoās there!ā he turns to look but canāt stop his feet from lurching him sideways towards the wall, any means of protection, ramming himself into a small table. he instinctively grabs whatever is there and solid enough to use as a weapon to protect himself (a hardcover book) lifting it up as though he would strike whoever is sneaking up on him, possibly to put a knife in his back, possibly to strangle him to death.
in the dim light though, he manages to make out a face, squinting. ābambam? sir?ā
as heās finding out, his fight or flightĀ response isnāt doing too well right now ā itās not doing much of anything, frozen to the spot. his fear response is broken, he thinks, trying terribly to run or confront or do somethingĀ other than stay there, rooted to the ground. his heart is beating too fast to kick anything into motion, chattering against his chest, lungs breathless.
he can hear the clatter of wood knocking into the butler, rustle of something solid being picked up. for just a second his imagination teases out a flash of a nightmare, the butler beating him to death with some club and heās completely powerless, paralysed; holy fuckĀ heās going to die. but thatās what it takes to spur him into action, forcing himself away from the wall andā shit, right in front of the butler.
the solid thing heād heard being picked up is still only a blurry object from where he stands, edges marred by the dim lighting. heās got nothing but his phone and a rough estimate of where the butlerās family jewels are to protect himself, but he doubts thatās going to save him from being beaten to death. the butler, however, doesnāt soundĀ that threatening, not right now.
doesnāt mean he isnāt, though.
heās certain itās suspiciousĀ to be running about in the dark on the exact night your employer is murdered. no oneās going to be doing whatever it is the help does, they shouldnātĀ be, he thinks, even if heās out himself. it doesnāt help that the butler is entirely unfamiliar. everythingās got the slightest edge of fear in it all of a sudden, magnified by unfamiliarity and he definitely falls in that category.
āum, yes, iā¦ was taking, uh, a walk.ā itās the most transparent lie heās ever told, he thinks, powers through the obvious falsehood to ask what he doesĀ want to know. ādo you have a problem.ā itās more a command than a question, traces of childish imperiousness still in his voice, darkened with cloying fear.
he can only think of a few explanations to be out of bed at this time, in this situation, as a mere servant of the house, and he doesnāt know if he wants the truth or just a placating lie. his phone is cold to the touch, as is the wind from the vents; whatever fear response is heightening his senses, itās very much appreciated. he still doesnāt know why the butler is skulking about the mansion, but heās sure it means something, if only he could find out.
taemin's heart is pounding in his chest, the vibrations thundering through his body. he can feel the blood pulse through his legs and his hands, the rushing sound very loud and irritating in his ears. it makes him blink a lot and his hands are shaking a bit, but he gulps, determined not to sound like a scaredy-cat once he can actually find his voice again.
it's bambam, only just bambam. the guy is smaller than taemin by just a bit, with a rounder, cuter face. there's nothing scary about him, especially after their encounter earlier in the evening. when he'd first come in, he'd hit on taemin a little and even though taemin had been flattered, he was too pressed and preoccupied to really reciprocate anything back to him. he didn't have any feelings one way or the other about the kid, albeit he's pretty cute (with a nice ass), but given how things have been going tonight, he's sure all that has probably left bambam's mind.
he certainly looks suspicious though, so maybe taemin should rethink his opinion. he has a reason for why he's skulking around the hallways, he's trying to find soojung, but bambam... why? everyone should be asleep at this hour, and unlike soojung and taemin who have known each other for a year now with a long, complicated history between them, bambam only just arrived a few hours ago. it couldn't be possible that he's looking for body heat from someone too, right?
unless... damn, this kid moves fast?
his explanation sounds fake though, like he's not even really trying to convince taemin of the legitimacy of his claims. taemin squints a bit. "a walk, sir? it's... pretty late for a walk, donāt you think?" that's the dumbest lie he's probably ever heard. "if you needed to stretch your legs or something, i suggest you do it in the privacy... and safety of your room." he didn't mean that to sound threatening, but it might have come out that way.
he swallows thickly again, once bambam turns the question around, lowering the book a bit so it becomes a harmless book again instead of a shield. "I.." he can't really tell him the truth though right? soojung might not appreciate the glances she would get from him tomorrow and taemin isn't really one to brag about his exploits to strangers. "I was going to get more blankets.." he nods. "it's very cold and drafty in the rooms, i was heading over to the cupboard for them..." he thinks he's a much better liar than bambam, but he did have a better head-start.
he presses his lips together after that, not sure what else to do. neither of them trust each other, he can tell that, but what course of action should he take? should he just leave? he bites the inside of his cheek, regretting these words even before they leave his lips, "perhaps i'll... walk you back to your room? really you shouldn't be out here...."
if there's one thing that rubs taemin worse than arrogant people, it's arrogant rich people. he hates them. never worked a day in their lives, never had to strive for anything or fight for anything or want for anything, but they complain the loudest and the longest about every little detail of something. he has yet to meet one who isn't a spoiled little brat, especially the people here in the mansion tonight. between hyunwoo and jinah, it's hard to choose which one he wants to throw out of the window first.
but since hyunwoo is closest... he sighs audibly and shuts his eyes tightly. he doesn't want to be here right now, probably won't even fucking stay, but he's got to keep up appearances long enough for hyunwoo to calm the fuck down and pass out. hopefully he'll get so angry he'll just knock himself out, however unlikely that might be.
taemin doesn't want to admit about the snow outside. hopefully it'll just be one night... just one night he has to put up with these crazies and then things can.... well, maybe not go back to normal, but at least become something more bearable. there is the problem of the dead body but since soojung and he already hid it, maybe they can just pretend it didn't happen. the mansion is secluded, no one has heard from yang for a year now, no one would miss him. no one visits him. all taemin has to do to get away from all this is make sure no one else talks to the police.
how to get them to keep their mouths shut though?
they say dead men tell no tales....
but that's a grim thought, not one he'll allow himself to seriously consider-- until hyunwoo starts droning on about him and soojung's work here at the mansion. it's honestly not something he'd been expecting the other to say, so his eyes fly open and he turns to look over at the other in the dim light of the stained lamp. is he fucking kidding? is that really going to be what he whines and bitches about, tonight of all nights? taemin grits his teeth and snarls, "does this place look like it has boric acid to you, dipshit?" fuck propriety, taemin is so ready to get up off this bed and whoop this kid's ass. "even if it did, the only thing i would do is pour it over your ugly face."
if yang were still alive, taemin would definitely get a beating for this, but welp. shit happens. "you need to shut the fuck up before you become the second dead body in this house tonight." he is too goddamn stressed for this, he has no patience and no toleration for bullshit. "we know how to get rid of vermin just fine here-- i can give you a demonstration if you like, but i donāt think you'd enjoy the process very much."
whether or not he's serious is up for debate, but he certainly sounds serious and pissed off, so he hopes hyunwoo takes the hint and shuts his cockhole. he turns his head back to look up at the ceiling, brooding and frowning. "why the hell are rich people such assholes? you're in the same damn position that i am, you're stuck here just like me, summoned by that bastard that i've had to work with for a year now." he sends the guy a snide look. "i bet you fucking loved him."
that's all he heard about for almost a year now-- how much people seemed to love him. he had a terrible personality, a jerk through and through, and there have been things he's blackmailed taemin into doing these past months, these past weeks, that have forever burned him into taemin's mind as a devil. he could never stand the man, despite him doing taemin's mother a favor and he should be grateful, but he just can't bring himself to feel like that.
he scowls and shoves the man up against the wall, forearm across his throat, pressed against the underneath of his chin. āshut up,ā he bites out, āshut up, shut up.ā he knows the older man doesnāt see him as a threat, mocking little instructions taunting him from where they stand, even when heās the one pinned to the wall.
āi know you did it,ā he snaps, acid anger dripping from each word. he knows the butler was just provoking him, but fuck. it works. itās blind, stupid anger that makes him stomp on the other manās foot, but he misses it (of course he does) and he loses his advantage just like that, slips on expensive carpeting and nearly falls, taemin breaking it by yanking him up by the waist.
ānot that easy,ā the butler says, smirk on his face so frustrating he wants to slap it off. heās outright gloating, tone sharp and sarcastic. āi thought you liked me but oh, bambam, what happened?ā
he doesnāt let go of his waist, keeps it there and pulls him up, even closer, poised and so clearly pleased with himself. twisting away, he shoves himself up, hands clenched into fists. there is anger and humiliation now, fury white-hot but fighting isnāt what he knows, what heās familiar with. he doesnāt know what to do, the confrontation heād planned falling to pieces the second heād cornered the butler.
taeminās well aware of that too, fingers reaching out to tilt his head up. his smile reminds him of sharks.
āfirst thought, best thought.ā
it's always at least a little entertaining when people try so hard for something they obviously have never done, and aren't any good at. taemin has always been a little bit of a bad apple; a dark, spoiled pit at the heart of him, black and rotten and impossible to get out. he's used to it by now, he's become familiar with the burning, achy feeling of it, the sickening stickiness of it all. killing someone had thrown him for a loop, but threatening people was one of his favorite past-times.
bambam has no idea who he has come for, no idea how to be intimidating, and as you might expect, taemin thinks it's cute, more or less. this poor, floundering baby, not sure at all about which direction to waddle into. he's too much shorter than taemin, too baby-faced, too naturally soft and squishy. it doesn't help him that just last night taemin had seen the kid screech and freak out so badly just from having seen him-- it's really ruined any hardcore image he might have wanted for himself.
so yeah, taemin smiles and chuckles throughout this entire exchange, his amusement only heightening when bambam loses his footing. oh my god. taemin has to catch him and then they're in such close proximity to each other, it's kind of impossible not to flirt a little. bambam had been the one to flirt with taemin their first night here, back when all this was a simple dinner party, so it makes sense that taemin could flirt back now, right? even with the circumstances being as they are.
"first thought, best thought," he teases, his finger just below the boy's chin. he might not be too certain about what bambam's thoughts are, but he knows his own are probably decidedly lustier.
it's a chance to maybe get his face smashed in, but taemin takes it, grabbing bambam's waist again and shoving him back against the wall, but not in the same way that bambam had done to him just moments ago. bambam had wanted to seem menacing, whereas taemin just wants a little bit of fun. he thrusts himself against the younger man, pinning his arms up by his head and his hips back with his own. he's got bambam's scrawny, unsteady legs all tangled around his own, which is exactly how he wants it, and he leans against the other chest to chest.
their faces are so close now taemin can see his eyes dilate, even in this dim, low lighting. "what makes you think i would kill him?" he presses his thigh against bambam's groin-- not hard, but enough to feel pressure-- and rubs it a little bit. ādo i look like a killer?ā
It was late, and the small girl still had yet to be able to find the bathroom with the all the bright lights that guided her down the hallway let alone in plagued in partial darkness. The mansion was already creepy enough, with the murderer of Mr. Yang walking around freely Eunji couldnāt help but feel her body tremble in fear. This wouldnāt do, she felt too paranoid to move from her spot but the fear was crawling down her spine pushing her to run as fast as she can. She needed to move forward and not focus on how the dimmed corridor seemed to go on forever.Ā
Her mind went back to summer camp when she would have to go to the latrine with only a flashlight in hand as she ventured into the wilderness. Moving her foot forward, she began to hum quietly as she looked at each door with a keen eye trying to decipher if it was the bathroom or not. She felt a sudden chill as she moved oh so slowly, and began to sing quietly.Ā āOnly for you~ā Shuffling her feet a bit faster, she didnāt dare look behind her as she was now just focused on getting out of the darkness.Ā
Upon feeling someones eyes on her, she begins singing a bit slower as she turns around slowly.Ā āI went to the entrance of your street without planning it, I didnāt think Iād see you but you greeted me with a smile.ā When she had turned the whole way around, her hair framing her face and a grimace on her expression preparing for the worst. She saw a dark figure at the end of the hall, a tall man who looked so creepy all she could do was give off a high pitch scream as she stood in shock at seeing the phantom.Ā
it's been such a long day and taemin hadn't been prepared for any of it. you'd think with the master of the house dead, there'd be a lot less for a butler to do, but on the contrary, he's still expected to clean and cook for everyone apparently. it's days like these that make him wish he hadn't fired the last cook, maybe gotten some help in the kitchen so that he wouldn't have to rely on soojung, who is completely useless in there, to help him gather necessary ingredients.
he's only just now finished cleaning up after dinner, something of course none of the others bothered to help him with, and his feet hurt and his hands are rubbed raw and red. it's past bedtime and for once taemin actually thinks he might just go to his own bed, instead of soojung's. he really can't take another battle for the blankets again tonight.
he stops cold in his tracks however, at the sound of some high-pitched tune being half-whispered into the hallway he's about to turn into. his heart skips a beat and starts pounding feverishly inside his chest. he thinks maybe he should just turn around and go another way, but his bedroom is just around the bend...
is it worth it though? he steps around the corner and sees a figure there, standing eerily still with her back to him, like some sort of classic horror movie. she's making some kind of squealy, breathy humming sound, and even though his eyes are gigantic and his heart is threatening to beat right out of his chest to go hide, his feet won't let him move. he is now rooted to the spot, subconsciously determined to remain here for this ghost to murder him. she slowly turns around and he half expects her to rush at him with a knife or something, but instead she just screams.
it startles him enough to scream along with her, jumping right out of his skin. he takes a few feet back and accidentally rams himself against the far wall. "DON'T KILL ME!"
it's the snow that's really the most off-putting, taemin realizes. he's been at the mansion for a year now but never has it been this eerie, this strange. he's used to it being quite a bit quieter than it is now, but there's something about being surrounded by snow that really sucks up all the sounds, even ones own heartbeat. he can't hear his own breathing with all this pristine whiteness.
it feels like there's really nothing out there. he leans against the backdoor of the giant house, a cigarette poised between two fingers, his other arm wrapped around his midriff. he hadn't bothered with a coat, his inner irritations and frustrations already enough to warm him in this weather. he doesn't think he'll ever be less angry about having to share this place with these people, wishing them gone, wishing the ice would melt enough for a boat to come through. it's either the boat or the forest, and there are no roads, no trails, no guides. the only way to or from this house is by air or by water.
taemin squints out at the gardens set before him, overgrown and maze-like, the edges of it curling and twisting into the surrounding woods as though it were apart of it. taemin has gotten lost in that garden before-- it's not difficult. the bushes are too high, the statues all look the same, the grounds have to be almost half a square mile. it's hard to tell in some places whether you're still within range of the mansion or not, and sometimes taemin wonders if yang had it designed that way for a reason.
maybe it's to keep the minotaur trapped.
he sucks a long drawl on his cig, sighing the smoke out again, just before he hears someone yelling. he frowns, his eyes widening. for a moment, he worries that it's a ghost, or maybe just some wind howling in the trees. this is a very old place, it's completely feasible. but then there is screaming again, and it sounds more familiar than taemin would like to think about.
"are you fucking kidding me.." he groans. some idiot actually went out there? why the hell? what for? did they notice that this whole place is a labyrinth, is meant to keep things in? he stomps on the butt of his stick and rushes back inside, grabbing a coat and sliding it on before heading out once again towards the voice. really, he ought to just let them panic out there by themselves, serves them right, but deep down, he's never been able to ignore a damsel in distress.
he finds her out of sheer luck and huffs, furiously. "what the fuck are you doing out here?!"
āweāre stuck on this wheel of living and dying. an endless circle, until someone breaks it.ā
he stands out on the balcony, leaning against the old, rusty railing as though heās daring it to crumble and collapse on him, daring it to let him loose out onto the snow far below him. maybe heās hoping itāll break and he can tumble down to his death so he doesnāt have to deal with this shrill girl anymore, and her weird philosophical mumblings. or anyone else in this mansion. heās already frustrated enough, already stressed and irritated, and the last thing he needs is someone telling him to stop smoking on his fucking cigarette break.
ālook,ā he says, exasperated and drawing in on the death-stick, inhaling the smoke as thought it is godās breath. āitās been a really long few days okay? you canāt deny me my habits, just because youāre scared of some second-hand cancer thing happening. iām not quitting, iāve been smoking since i was 13. you can go inside to the opposite end of the mansion and survive there. yes, by yourself okay, go.ā he shoos her away a little bit, not even caring about how rude heās being.
who gives a shit now anyway? his employer is dead and heās probably going to jail after he gets out of here. if he ever gets out of here.
she says it like itās some kind of explanation, like itās supposed to mean something to him, like itās supposed to stop him. beginningsā¦. itās interesting because most people are bad at beginnings, and only really like the middles of things. taemin himself is bad at everythingā beginning, middle, and endā so he canāt really comment on her lack of abilities. heās not really asking for anything to start between them anyway, and a faint question floats into his eyes after she says that, but he doesnāt voice it. he doesnāt know how to say it. whatever the fuck is between them is something that just is, it has no beginning. itāll probably have an end though, but taemin canāt really think about that right now.
he canāt think about anything right now. heās cooped up in this hellhole, this asshole always yelling and hitting him to get him to do shit around his old, backwards mansion, and the only bright spot is how pretty this girl is. sure, she has a bitchy personality and heās not sure if he really likes her as a person, but her body melts against his when he pins her up against the kitchen wall, her leg pressing against his groin, and she tastes like bourbon. heās sure there are all kinds of rules against this, yang would probably cut off his head if he knew taemin was doing this to his precious princess. not to mention whatever walls sheās built up inside her head to prevent this kind of thingā if thatās even true.
but sheās wrongā it doesnāt matter. āi dont care. we can end it after tonight. this doesnāt have to begin anything.ā he kisses her again, this time even harder, growling low in his throat as he pushes his tongue into her mouth and reaches up to grab her by the back of her hair. maybe itās not something he wants, but itās definitely something he needs.
he chuckles at her assertion, actual fond feelings hitting the surface for a split moment. heās much too sleepy right now to really fight to hide his emotions anyway, so he doesnāt hold himself back. sheās laying in her bed, tangled up in the sheets when she should be tangled up in him, and he leans over her a moment so she can see him better in the dark.
āi do like you with your mouth open, but only when my cock or my finger is inside it. otherwise, your snores are loud enough to wake yang back up.ā sheās not even bothering to open her eyes, not shocked or amused at all by his words, but she hums quietly and swallows, closing her mouth finally. he pulls a little on her sheets, getting her to untwist a bit, before getting on her bed carefully. normally heād just slip next to her and slide his arms around her body, pulling her close, but tonight he wants closer.
he moves slowly, like a dream, almost hoping she doesnāt wake up, first putting his knee between her legs and then slowly laying down on top of her without really putting too much weight on her. he presses his face against her chest for a moment, lips connecting to skin, but not quite like a kiss. then he moves downwards, propping himself up with an arm while his other hand smooths over her ribs and stomach, the body heat beneath her clothes intoxicating. pushing the shirt up just enough to see her belly button, he leans in and grazes his teeth over her skin just above her pj pants, kissing it. she is smooth, unscarred, and warmā and right now he needs that warmth.
taemin rolls his eyes as soon as she speaks, coming over to his side of the lounge, his ears already threatening to start bleeding. itās only been two days since they all arrived here and already heās more envious of yangās state than heād initially thought he would be. he hates everyone here, hates being stuck here, and the more time heās spending with them all, the less sure he is of whether or not it would be a good idea to just kill them all and be done with it.
no one would know. heād probably get away with it, as long as he kills the detective first. perhaps heāll pull another favor of his motherās and move to yet another country. this time he could be more prepared for butler life, with experience under his belt.
the problem is though, heās still snowed in. heād have to stay here with all the dead, rotting bodies until the blizzard calms and the snow stop building up.
āiām not stupid or ignorant about what yang was like a year ago, before i came here, okay?ā he glares up at her and watches her take a seat opposite him on a chair, her long legs crossing and stretching out between them. āi know he was an asshole, and that he probably didnāt treat you or anybody all that well.ā he hates being called ignorant just because he hadnāt been present for certain things, such as the day jinah was sent away. āwhat i dont know is why he kept you so long, honestly.ā
