Archive for draco-renn's completed works, tagged in order by title, fandom, ship, and au. Chapters are uploaded as they are completed until the work is also complete. I only post on Tumblr and ao3, if my works are posted anywhere else it is NOT me!
Warning(s): Explicit sexual content, dom/sub, heavy petplay, hypnokink in the form of modified clicker training (snapping instead of a clicker tool), praise kink, strap-ons, oral sex, dacryphilia, cock stepping, mild degradation kink, spit as lube, minor masochism, no prep because I forgot to write it in ✌️🤪, anal sex, barebacking, oral fixation, spanking, come marking, breeding kink, knotting, come eating, cunnilingus, slight scent kink, leg humping, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation. Also trans Sumin and pathetic down atrocious puppy sub Jinsik because I'm a pathetic down atrocious trans puppy sub and I say so.
Description: Jinsik thinks that he has it in him to be bratty. Sumin welcomes him to try.
(Read on AO3)
All is silent in the xikers dorms. Today is a rare day off now that Red Sun promotions are over, so the members have decided to spend it accordingly. Minjae and Yechan have gone off to the studio, Junmin and Hunter are in the practice room helping Hyunwoo sharpen his dance skills, Seeun has dragged Yujun out with their manager for a day hitting the malls, and Junghoon is at another rehab appointment. This just leaves the two lovebirds Sumin and Jinsik together in the dorm for some long-awaited alone time.
Their morning was spent curled in each other’s arms, the ever-disciplined Sumin slipping into Jinsik's room and bed as soon as his usual morning alarm had gone off. Jinsik had turned his own alarm off the night before, so they got to sleep in and dream of each other until almost noon. Sumin had made brunch for them after they woke up, and they ate together before going out for a walk around town.
They’ve since returned home and are nestled on the couch together, enjoying the silence and each other’s company… Until Jinsik breaks the silence.
"You know yeobo, I'm starting to get a little tired of always having to obey you."
Sumin's hand doesn't stop petting Jinsik's hair, nor does Jinsik lift his head out of Sumin's lap. Jinsik does, however, roll over just a little so he can look Sumin in the eye. He's met with a casual raised eyebrow.
"Do you mean in general or in bed?" Sumin is calm as ever. That's what Jinsik loves about him, he never escalates based on assumptions, always talks things out until they're clear with him. Jinsik is so lucky.
"In bed," Jinsik answers. He schools his face into a pout despite how much he wants to smile instead; he has to show Sumin that he's serious, after all! "I know we both feel good when I listen to you, but I'd like to take control for once. I bet I could make you beg for me just like I do for you." He finally lets himself smile at that. The mental image has been haunting him for weeks now; Sumin spread out on his bed, aching and begging for Jinsik to give him some relief. He wouldn't even need his cock to please Sumin, he knows the effect that just the sight of his tongue has on him! His train of thought is interrupted by a soft huff of laughter from Sumin.
"I'm sure you could, jagiya." Sumin yields to him far too easily, like he's watching a cute puppy trying to unlock a gate. Jinsik ignores how that nonchalant attitude strikes up an almost desperate heat in his gut. Both of them know that Jinsik is the strongest member without even having to work out. He could easily overpower Sumin and take whatever he wants from him. He just needs to take the initiative.
"Yeah, I could, so I will!" Jinsik declares, hammering in his point by brushing Sumin's hand aside and shoving him down so he's lying across the couch. Yet again, he goes down far too easily—with a smile, even—and even more frustratingly, doesn't shift his hips up to help Jinsik drag down his loose sweatpants. He quickly finds out why when his fingers catch on something on the way down and he's met with the sight of a very familiar black harness. It stops Jinsik in his tracks. It's been a while since they did anything past kissing in general, but even longer since Sumin has last worn that for him. The spark of heat in his gut blazes up into a wildfire.
"Still going to make me beg, pup?' Jinsik's brain is too busy leaking out of his ears to formulate a response to Sumin's teasing, let alone resist that all-too-fitting petname. He backs off as Sumin sits back up; can't—won't—touch him without permission. He thinks he shakes his head, he really can't tell if he did with how entranced he is at the sight of Sumin's strap. "Sit," Sumin commands with a snap of his fingers, and Jinsik bolts to the floor where he's pointing so fast that his knees bruise. The pain is nothing, losing his attempt at dominance is nothing, all he can focus on is Sumin's smiling face above him where he belongs. Sumin snaps again. "Speak."
"Woof!"
"Good boy~" Sumin cups his cheek with one hand, ruffles his hair with the other, and Jinsik is up so high that he can almost forget the throbbing need between his legs. "I'll forgive you if you bring my cock over here, pup. Can you do that for me?"
Jinsik nods so frantically that he almost bites his own tongue. Forgiveness, Sumin's cock, helping his master... He's a greedy pup, he wants it all.
"Such a sweet pup that I have~" Sumin coos, and Jinsik whimpers. "Now, you remember what pups don't do, right?"
Jinsik nods again; pups don't walk on two legs, pups don't use their hands, pups don't talk, pups don’t forget that the safeword is "Roady".
"Good boy, you're so smart!" Sumin praises, lightly shaking Jinsik's head around. Cuteness aggression, because Jinsik is a cute pup just for him. "I left it in my bag, now go fetch!"
Jinsik takes off on all fours almost before the command is finalized with a third snap of Sumin’s fingers. Not actually before, though, just almost. He's Sumin's good pup, he won't let him down. He finds Sumin's bag easily, it being just on the other chair next to the couch, and unzips it just as easily with his teeth. He sort of wishes that Sumin would wear sweatpants less often so he could open some other kind of zipper with his teeth… He shakes the thought out of his head; that's a conversation for another day. It only takes a little bit of messy pawing around inside the bag—his fingers carefully curled up so he doesn't break the rules—for him to find Sumin's cock; a long, thick, knotted green monstrosity—Minjae's words, not his (everyone now knows to never open Sumin's mail for him)—that makes Jinsik's jaw ache as he takes it into his mouth. He's already drooling around it as he trots back to Sumin and it's not even properly inside his mouth yet.
"'Good boy~" Sumin purrs upon his return. "You're so sweet, I've forgotten what I was about to punish you for" he says with an exaggerated pout as he takes his cock from his mouth. "That would have been mean of me to punish you for no reason, now wouldn't it? How about a treat instead?" Jinsik lights up even brighter than he had been before; if he had a tail, it would be wagging so hard that his whole body would be shaking.
"Woof!" He emphasizes his approving bark with a play-bow, ass up and chest so low that his shirt slides down to reveal his narrow waist. Perfect for Sumin to grab, right? Perfect to hold him in place with, right? He hopes he can convey his pleading with just his face, turned up towards Sumin at an angle that makes his neck hurt.
"Ooh, someone's eager~" Sumin teases as he kicks off his sweatpants. He has to take off the harness to put his strap-on together properly, shifting his hips up and—oh. He hadn't been wearing anything else other than that. He's also dripping, tdick standing red and proud and shining with slick. Jinsik's mouth floods with drool that he doesn't even bother to swallow down. He's been promised a treat, he can slobber for it as much as he wants! He can't help but whimper when Sumin clasps his strap back on and obscures Jinsik's view. "Naughty pup," Sumin chides, "were you hoping to get two treats?"
Jinsik's metaphorical tail stills its wagging. Could he? He averts his gaze from Sumin's cock to his eyes, chest prickling with shame. Sumin's face breaks from a playfully offended look into a smile.
"I know this is going to spoil you too much for your own good, but I'm doing it anyway," he sighs. “Come here.” Jinsik obeys, straightening up from his bow to rest his head in Sumin’s waiting hand. Sumin cradles him so gently as he shifts forward until Jinsik goes cross-eyed staring at his cock. "Cute,” he coos. He snaps with his free hand. It's quieter than the one he usually uses, but it's just as hypnotizing to Jinsik. “Get this nice and wet for me to fuck you with, and then you can taste the other one.” Jinsik doesn’t have to be told twice!
He opens wide for Sumin to shove his cock inside; waits like a good pup for that wonderfully mind-numbing weight on his tongue instead of taking it for himself. Sumin pulls him down by the hair, totally uncaring if Jinsik chokes or gags. Why would he care about something that won’t happen, after all? Jinsik’s mouth is deep enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about his gag reflex even if he had one. His eyes still water beyond belief despite this, spilling over as they roll back in his head. He chases the taste of his own tears as they mix with his spit on Sumin's cock; cis dick is apparently salty sometimes, so this must be an approximation of how Sumin feels when sucking Jinsik off. It feels like the fucking dream.
“Such a good boy—fuck—I bet you’re leaking already,” Sumin curses, though Jinsik can hardly hear him over his own lewd slurping and muffled whimpers. He's hardly getting any time to breathe between thrusts, the back of his throat getting bullied into what he knows will get him a scolding from his vocal coach. Just the way he likes it. Sumin hooks a leg around his back and drags him closer until Jinsik has to brace his hands—still curled into paws—on Sumin's thighs for stability. He's leaking just like Sumin had predicted, has been leaking for a decent while by now. It's only just started to soak into his pants, wet and slick but still somehow sticky and fuck does it get to his head when coupled with the sting in his scalp. He wants—needs—to get off, so hard that he’s dizzy, would still be dizzy even if Sumin wasn’t fucking his throat like this. He’s rough enough that Jinsik can’t take his hands off his thighs to rut against them. A fresh wave of tears sting Jinsik’s eyes at the realization; usually Sumin gives him at least something! Then again, the leg that isn’t still hooked around his waist is right there, within Jinsik’s reach… The thought has Jinsik moaning around Sumin’s cock. It would be so dirty, so degrading to use Sumin like this; what kind of untrained, vulgar pup would he be to hump his master’s leg just for his own pleasure? He’ll be punished for it for sure… But the temptation is too appealing. He does his best to be subtle, make it look like he’s just scooting over to get comfortable—
—only for Sumin to lift up his heel and bring it down directly onto his cock. Not hard, thank fuck, but still with enough force to make Jinsik see stars.
“Naughty pup,” Sumin scolds. He drags Jinsik off his cock as if to add to his punishment. Jinsik gasps out a ragged moan, tears and drool flowing freely down his face. “Your desperation is so obvious, it's kind of pathetic.” He grinds his heel just a tiny bit harder against Jinsik’s throbbing arousal and Jinsik can only moan and whine, weak to the pleasure-pain that only Sumin can give to him.
He could come just like this, he realizes, even though this is new for both of them. Would Sumin let him, just this once?
“Then again, I think I've strung you out for long enough. We'll talk about it later for next time, okay?” Jinsik whimpers in protest but nods anyway. Sumin is right, it’s better to wait and talk than risk a meltdown by pushing through. “Up.”
Sumin snaps his fingers again and Jinsik drags himself back onto the couch in an instant. The movement finally draws his attention to how damp he’s gotten, his sweat sticking his shirt to him and his pants sticky with precum.
“Aww, poor pup~” Sumin coos when Jinsik whines. “Getting too hot there, aren't you?” He nods and Sumin snaps. “Paws up.” Jinsik obeys as soon as he’s stable on the couch, putting his arms up for Sumin to take off his shirt, and then falls back against the cushions and lifts his hips so Sumin can take off his pants and underwear. He can’t hold back his groan of relief when his skin is exposed to the air, head spinning too much to even be flustered at the exposure even when Sumin is raking his eyes over his body like he wants to devour him. “Fuck, you're so sexy,” he growls. “Do you have any idea how much I envy you? You don't even have to work for it, and your body is like this.” Sumin’s words are punctuated by his hands sliding up Jinsik’s sides, squeezing at his narrow waist and pressing him into the couch until his thumbs brush his nipples. Jinsik arches into the touch. “You're so sensitive, too~” Sumin pinches him, hard, and Jinsik yelps and tries to squirm out of his reach, but his cock—aching and red and leaking all over his stomach—jumps and gives him away. He never would have guessed that Sumin could turn him into such a masochist. Love does funny things. “Cute. I can't decide if I want to play with you or be inside you.” Jinsik whines in complaint; he needs Sumin inside him, now! Hasn’t he done all that he was supposed to? “Okay, okay, enough playing. Turn around.” Jinsik’s metaphorical tail gets right back to madly wagging as soon as their legs are untangled enough for him to obey.
He presents just the way Sumin likes it; ass up, back arched, face pressed into the cushions. He gets a reverent hand tracing down his spine for his efforts that has him shivering. Sumin's touch is always so warm, so loving even when he’s punishing Jinsik. So gentle unlike the rough prod of his cock against his hole.
“Remember to breathe, pup.” Is all the warning he gets before Sumin pushes his way inside; his unforgiving girth punching the breath out of his lungs and splitting him open with only Jinsik’s spit to ease the sting.
“You like that, pup?” Sumin asks when Jinsik cries out. He slows down his less-than-gentle entrance for just a moment, pulling out slightly and returning to shove a pillow—now encased with Jinsik’s discarded shirt—under his hips. The rough, scratchy friction against his leaky cock borders on painful, yet he can’t stop himself from rutting against it; forward onto the pillow, backward onto Sumin’s cock, over and over until the pain blooms into pleasure. “This is easier than I thought it would be,” Sumin muses, one hand gripping Jinsik’s waist to steady him. “Have you been touching yourself when I’m not around?”
Jinsik muffles a broken whine into the couch cushions. Caught.
“Come on, pup. Answer me clearly.” Sumin’s voice takes on an authoritative edge. The hand on his waist tightens hard enough to bruise, while the other snakes around his throat to pull him up. “You’re allowed to talk just this once,” he teases, only to hook two fingers into Jinsik’s mouth. “I mean, if you can~” he adds when Jinsik chokes on a moan. Jinsik decides not to answer right away. The pressure of Sumin’s fingers on his tongue is just too good to resist closing his mouth around them and sucking, circling his tongue around the thick digits until his mind goes blissfully blank. The sound of it all is filthy; Jinsik’s muffled whimpers between his lewd slurping and the creak of the couch springs beneath him as Sumin fucks his way inside. Jinsik can’t get enough.
“Such a needy pup, always wanting something to suck on,” Sumin huffs. He drags his fingers out of Jinsik’s mouth and lightly slaps him across the face with them, leaving a wet streak behind. “Come on, pup. I still need an answer.” He snaps his fingers again. “Speak.”
“Yuh—yeah, I have been,” Jinsik slurs. It's so hard to form words after not needed to for so long; the motions of his jaw and tongue now unfamiliar to him. “Jus’ missed y’so much, need somethin’ in me, need y’to fuck me, please, please!” He twists around to face Sumin properly—beg him properly. “Jus’ move already, ‘ll be fine.”
Sumin shoves his face back into the cushions. The new angle makes it hard to breathe with the way it restricts his throat; then again it could also be how deep Sumin reaches inside now. He’s almost bottomed out completely with just the knot left to shove its way in. He needs it all; needs it deeper, harder.
“Such a greedy pup,” Sumin sighs. “No more talking,” he adds with a resounding slap to Jinsik’s ass. It stings so good that his eyes are spilling over again, fresh tear tracks running down his ruddy face. Jinsik obeys and lets his verbal processing skills melt away to blissed-out moans and whimpers. He’s much more comfortable this way, incoming crick in his neck aside. “You just want to be broken and bred, don’t you?” Sumin’s filthy words are paired with the rough drag of his cock against Jinsik’s walls, pulling out halfway and slamming back in.
(Yes!) he wants to say, (Yes, please, breed me, stuff me full, give me your puppies!) He's already been freed from the burden of speaking, though, so he's reduced to just the animalistic moans that Sumin fucks out of him at a brutal pace. Sumin likes that, but he doesn’t understand them, so Jinsik rocks backwards and meets his thrusts as hard as he can manage. His cock ruts harshly into the pillow no matter what direction he goes in and it makes him feel so trapped, so dirty, so used. Just like it should be.
“Good boy,” Sumin growls. “Such an obedient pup for me, my perfect little slut. Gonna knot you, knock you up with so many puppies. Fill out this pretty figure of yours.” His hand digs a bruise into Jinsik’s waist and Jinsik positively wails. The thought of his slender body growing wide and rounding out around Sumin’s children—impossible as they would be—after this is absolutely dizzying; he wants it, needs it. “Want my knot, pup?” Jinsik does his best to nod from his place shoved against the couch. Sumin’s smile—even though it's blurred with tears—couldn’t possibly be more beautiful. He finally releases his grip on Jinsik’s head and thrusts his fingers into his face. A familiar snap brings Jinsik’s brain back into focus. “Kiss.”
Jinsik presses his lips against Sumin’s fingers in the best approximation that he can manage in his ruined state. Sumin huffs out a laugh, gentle fingers wiping Jinsik’s drool off his lips.
“Sweet boy,” Sumin sighs. “Not that kind.” Jinsik blinks his bleary eyes up at him in confusion until he snaps again. “How do pups kiss?” Oh, right. Pups don’t kiss like people. He scrambles to correct his mistake, curling his tongue around Sumin’s fingers and lapping at them until they’re shining with spit. “That’s better.” Jinsik’s focus fizzles back into blissful nothing at Sumin's praise. This is all he needs to function, just Sumin’s guiding hand, Sumin’s voice in his ear, Sumin commanding his every movement, Sumin, Sumin, Sumi—
His muted thoughts shatter into white-hot pleasure when Sumin’s slick fingers wrap around his cock. He muffles a cry into the couch as Sumin jerks him off; fast and hard to make up for his thrusts starting to slow down. It’s a welcome change from the pillow under his hips, which has gone from scratchy to borderline chafing over the course of this rough mating.
“Good boy,” Sumin groans over Jinsik’s sobbing moans. “Such a good pup for me.” His hand speeds up and Jinsik nearly collapses, held up only by Sumin’s grip on his waist. “Getting close?” Sumin really doesn’t need to ask. He’s ruined Jinsik enough times that he can tell just by how his cock twitches in his grasp. “You’re so easy,” he purrs. The hand around Jinsik’s waist releases him just for a moment, and with one last snap of his fingers;
“Come.”
Jinsik obeys instantly with a howling moan, so hard he nearly whites out. Sumin’s knot pops into place right against his prostate and sends sparks down his spine with every twitch of his body; all the more stimulation that's rapidly building up to be almost too much. Sumin doesn't let him get away; his hips still grinding his knot into him and his hand milking him for all he’s worth until he’s sobbing and trembling. He’s helpless to do anything other than take what Sumin gives him, until he’s choking on his sobs, until Sumin’s hand and the pillow underneath him—bless Sumin’s foresight to cover it with his shirt—are drenched in white, until the waves of his orgasm start to ebb into painful aftershocks. Sumin releases his cock with one final tug and spanks him just to make him squeal, no doubt leaving a white streak behind. Marking him. The thought makes his spent cock stir again, though he’s far too boneless to do anything about it at the moment. He only vaguely registers Sumin’s hand disappearing to drag the pillow out from under him. There’s a rustle of fabric and the pillow—now stripped of the shirt that had been covering it and mostly clean of any evidence—thumps onto the couch next to Jinsik’s head and his shirt is tossed into an inside-out heap on the floor.
“Fuck,” Sumin hisses under his breath. Jinsik makes some kind of quizzical bleating noise in response; he knows something hasn’t gone right but is still too fucked-out to really process it. “It’s nothing that bad, don’t worry,” Sumin reassures with a gentle hand on Jinsik’s back, “you’re just a messy pup. There's cum on the couch.” Fuck, indeed. Jinsik faintly wonders if Sumin will command him to lick it off. He’s done that before after fucking him against his desk, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he did it again. Jinsik wouldn’t mind. Good pups do what they’re told. Jinsik doesn't hear any snap or command though, just the faint tinkering of Sumin taking off his cock. His strength has returned enough for him to turn around and give Sumin a questioning look. “Pretty pup.” Sumin pauses his unstrapping and reaches out with his clean hand to wipe Jinsik’s tears away. “Normally I would tell you to clean up your mess, but this is a shared couch and I'd rather not get your tongue on it before it goes inside me. I’ll take care of it this time.” Jinsik lights up.
“Woof!” His tongue hangs out from between his teeth in his anticipation, and he starts to squirm and paw at Sumin, impatient for him to free himself and give him his second treat. The movement tugs at Sumin’s knot and they both hiss.
“So impatient,” Sumin sighs. “Hold on, pup, I can't really do this with one hand.” He sticks his fingers in front of Jinsik’s face again and snaps, the motion flicking some of Jinsik’s own cum onto his cheek. “Clean up.”
Jinsik obeys, parting his lips so Sumin can shove his fingers inside. His mouth floods with drool as Sumin presses them against his tongue and smears his release all over it. It’s slightly bitter but he laps it all up anyway, sealing his lips around each of Sumin's thick fingers to suck it off, then moving on to licking his palm clean. He swallows it all under Sumin’s watchful eye and is rewarded with a smile.
“Good boy.” His hand retreats and his weight pulls away from Jinsik mere seconds after, finally freed from the harness that he now buckles inside-out around Jinsik’s hips and legs to keep his knot secured inside him. “Still want your other treat?” Jinsik can feel himself getting hard again before Sumin can even finish his sentence. He whimpers pathetically, both of them already knowing that Sumin can tell he needs it. A familiar snap chases away Jinsik’s desperate thoughts. “Sit.”
Moving is a challenge now that Jinsik has a knot in him sending zaps of pleasure up his spine, but Jinsik is a good pup, so he obeys and drops to his bruised knees where Sumin points him. When he looks back up at Sumin, he's in the middle of stripping his shirt off. Jinsik's eyes roam over what’s revealed; soft abs, scar-defined chest, toned arms. Sumin lays his shirt on top of the couch before sitting down on it and opening his legs right in Jinsik’s face. Of course the motion draws Jinsik's gaze right between them. Sumin’s inner thighs have grown damp with his own slick, red marks cut into his skin by the harness that's now strapped on Jinsik. He's flushed a deep red, made darker by his black not-quite-curls. He's trimmed them again. Jinsik whines; he understands why he would, but it’s so much more enjoyable to bury his face in them and breathe him in when they’re longer. Then again this gives him a better view of Sumin's throbbing tdick and how wet he’s gotten—it’s like he’s applied gloss around his pussy—so he supposes it's worth it.
“Come here, pup.” Sumin's words are punctuated by two quick snaps. Jinsik shakes himself out of his daze and rushes to obey, crawling between Sumin's legs and resting his cheek on his thigh. His hands come up to rest higher up on Sumin’s legs, still curled into paws, still a safe distance from his hips. His treat is so close…
Another snap.
“Wait for it.”
Of course Sumin wouldn't make this easy for him. He whines but obeys and keeps still; if he's good and waits without touching himself, he'll get his treat. Sumin grins down at him. One hand cards through Jinsik's hair, the other held up ready to snap. Jinsik can feel himself starting to tremble in anticipation.
“Want your treat, pup?” Sumin asks. He wraps a leg around Jinsik’s shoulders to drag him in closer, until he can almost taste it. Jinsik nods, a fresh wave of desperate tears pricking his eyes. The final snap of Sumin's fingers echoes in Jinsik's ears.
“Eat up.”
Jinsik dives in like he's starving. Sumin's walls are so soft, fluttering around his curling tongue and soaking his face down to the chin in slick. His musk is the strongest here, thick and heady and intoxicating. Jinsik laps it up, breathes it in, tastes it—tastes Sumin. His nose bumps against his tdick with every swipe of his tongue and Sumin’s grip on his hair tightens until it stings.
“Good boy, fuck, such a good boy,” Sumin moans. The praise goes straight to Jinsik's neglected cock as Sumin grinds against his tongue, guiding him with a hand in his hair and his thighs squeezing his head. Jinsik could drift off to heaven like this, smothered between Sumin’s legs and listening to his muffled noises of pleasure. This is his purpose. “M’getting close pup, you're doing so good.” Jinsik whimpers into Sumin’s pussy at the praise. He chases after it, licks deeper into him to pull more of those pretty moans from his mouth.
He’s fully drunk on Sumin now, the way he tastes, the way he clenches around his tongue, the way his pubes scratch his face; another reason why he doesn’t like them trimmed. It’s all made up for by the way Sumin drags his face up to shove his tdick into his mouth. Jinsik seals his lips around it and sucks hard, just the way Sumin likes it. He can’t help his smile when Sumin outright squeals above him. The leg that isn’t in the middle of crushing Jinsik’s head digs its heel into his thigh as Sumin folds in on himself.
“Fuck, pup, like that, just like that, good boy,” he sobs in a breathless, constant string of praise. Jinsik whines, about as strung out as Sumin sounds. Sumin’s tdick twitches in Jinsik’s mouth and it makes his cock ache. He's still being good, right? He can use Sumin to get off without being punished this time, right? He dips his head down to lap up more of Sumin’s slick instead. He’s learned to be a good pup, he won’t do anything unless he’s told to, so Sumin shoves his foot between Jinsik’s legs for him. “Go on and use me, pup. M’so close, I know you can come again for me.” He snaps his fingers with a shaky hand. “Make a mess out of me, pup.”
Jinsik muffles a moan into Sumin’s cunt. Finally! He sucks and laps harder at his tdick until Sumin’s thighs start to tremble; a telltale sign that he’s about to come, so Jinsik keeps it up until the very last second just so he can catch the gush of Sumin’s slick directly in his mouth. Fuck, he tastes like heaven. Sumin’s shaky, strained moans spur him to keep going, coax more of his juices out with his lips and tongue so he can swallow it down, drink him in until his stomach starts to turn. He’s spoiled that way. Sumin lets him indulge, nudges his trembling leg against Jinsik’s cock until he’s moving his hips on his own.
Humping Sumin’s leg is just as dirty as Jinsik expected it would be, especially with the knot still inside him sending shocks of pleasure through his body with every snap of his hips. The shame burns him up in the best way possible, and he takes that heat out on chasing both his and Sumin’s pleasure.
“Fuck, you and your devil’s tongue,” Sumin gasps out, hips bucking harshly against Jinsik’s face every time he licks into him. “Gonna come, greedy pup?” His voice has grown strained from how Jinsik refuses to let up on his cock; he keeps chasing Sumin’s taste even when Sumin’s grip in his hair has started to sting, even when the leg around his shoulders threatens to crush his head, even when his own pleasure threatens to overwhelm him. His breath starts to grow short as his orgasm builds, supercharged and twice as intense as the first thanks to the stench of sex filling the room and Sumin’s raw cunt clenching around his tongue and the slick dripping down his face and chest; Sumin’s mark, Sumin’s claim.
Jinsik really does white out this time. Maybe it’s because he came so hard it fucking hurt, maybe it’s because Sumin shoved him into his cunt so hard that he briefly suffocated him, maybe it’s some combination of both. All he remembers before he’s blinking awake in Sumin’s arms is both of them slumping down against the couch.
They’re soaking in a warm bath now, Jinsik’s back pressed up against Sumin’s chest. One of Sumin’s hands carefully keeps his head above the water line while the other massages away the aching bruise on Jinsik's side. He must have cleaned up and gotten them here sometime while Jinsik was out. Jinsik’s back and jaw are deliciously sore now, and will no doubt be giving him absolute hell tomorrow. Sumin, sensing his stirring, pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his shoulder
“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” he teases. His voice is ever so slightly hoarse next to Jinsik’s ear; Jinsik vaguely recalls hearing it start to break on his moans from his overstimulation. “Are you alright, jagiya? Did I push you too far?” Jinsik shakes his head.
“No, I liked it.” Jinsik attempts to twist around to look at Sumin properly only to be stopped by an unpleasant, tugging ache. “Ow. We’ve been rougher before, it’s okay.” He intercepts Sumin’s concerned, hovering hand by taking it into his own. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry I made you do this all by yourself.” He kisses Sumin’s knuckles, unsure if his tone alone will convey his guilt. Sumin hums in protest and kisses his neck.
“I’m fine, it’s not like you could have controlled that.” He leans his head against Jinsik’s and wraps his arm around his waist. His touch lingers on Jinsik’s belly for just a moment; like something had taken, Jinsik’s imagination supplies. Like they have something precious underneath. “Having you here like this makes up for it.” Jinsik’s heart melts. It drips down and soaks into his skin, dissolves into the water and carries him off on the ripples to a heaven where only he and Sumin exist.
“I love you,” he murmurs into the silence between them. Sumin’s lips curl into a smile against his skin.
“I love you too.”
Later on, they’ll sit up and clean each other off properly. They’ll run loving fingers through each other’s hair, work out the knots in each other’s bodies with the utmost care, tend to each other’s bruises as if any touch other than the most gentle will break them. After that they’ll help each other get dressed, sneak past the living room hoping that the open window will air out the smell of their coupling before the others get home, and curl up in Sumin’s bed together to cuddle and kiss the hours away. Jinsik will cry, and when Sumin asks him why, he’ll shake his head and tell him that he’s just so lucky to have someone who loves him so much, who’s so good to him. He’ll apologize for being silly and Sumin will reassure him, kiss his tears away until they drift off to sleep.
That’s all for the future, though. In the present, they only need the heat of the bath and each other’s embrace.
Rated: E
Warning(s): DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Implied past non-con, implied past abuse, (neither of those are committed by the mcs), self-harm, stabbing, explicit sexual content, erogore, woundfucking, cannibalism, I cannot stress enough that Sumin comes inside Jinsik's chest cavity please scroll if you don't want to read that, hypnotism, like if Jinsik was Tomie basically
Description: Ham Jinsik is no ordinary human. Perhaps he once was, though the truth of his origin has been long since lost to time. All that even he himself knows is that he was born blessed with such beauty that higher beings themselves envied him and mere mortals fell irrevocably and madly in love with a single look into his eyes. Once he became of age the madness overtook the love, and for the first time in his soon-to-be centuries of life, he was murdered in cold blood. Countless calamities have fallen upon his body and heart during his cursed wandering of the earth, all brought about by those unfortunate enough to love and be loved by him.
All until Choi Sumin.
Sumin's love touches Jinsik differently. He can only hope Sumin will touch him differently, too.
(Read on Ao3)
Jinsik is all too happy to melt into Sumin's kisses at the end of the night. Three dates is already a high number to score with Jinsik and here he is letting himself be pinned to Sumin's bedroom door after—well, he stopped counting after seven. His stomach is pleasantly full from dinner—homemade by Sumin, because of course it would be—and his head buzzes with the daze of wine—full-bodied and sweet just the way he likes it. His heart is in the best condition it's been in decades; swooping in his chest light as a feather with every press of Sumin's lips to his own.
"You," Sumin whispers between kisses, "are so amazing." His jacket drops to the floor in the time it takes for Jinsik to catch his breath.
"Me? I've hardly done anything to warrant that, have I?" Jinsik, ever coy, dodges Sumin's kisses this time. He still dives in; landing on Jinsik's cheeks, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Jinsik can't help but giggle at his insistence to love him; he's like an ever-adoring puppy.
"You exist, jagiya. That alone is amazing enough." Sumin abandons Jinsik's lips in favour of mouthing at his neck, kissing and sucking faint pink marks into his soft skin. Jinsik swallows down a heavy cocktail of dread and arousal as he dips lower; just shy of his collar now. Oh, Sumin's been so good so far. If he fails this last trial, what will become of Jinsik? Of his heart? His body? Jinsik allows him one last lingering kiss to his Adam's apple before lightly pushing at his chest.
"Yeobo, hold on," he murmurs. Sumin obeys immediately, pulling back with his face turned up in concern. His hands leave their place on Jinsik's waist after a moment of hesitation to hover nervously between them, like he doesn't know what to do with them. Oh, this is new. No one has stopped for Jinsik before Sumin. It's… Nice. He continues before his brooding can take over him. "I have something to tell you before we do anything else." Understanding dawns on Sumin's face.
"Oh?" His tone is light, carefully measured as he guides Jinsik to sit down on his bed. "What is it? Please don't be afraid to tell me, I'm always here to listen." Sumin sits down next to him; farther down the bed away from the door, a safe distance from Jinsik. Providing an exit in case he needs one. He's smiling when Jinsik looks up at him again; soft and reassuring. Jinsik can't help but mirror it. "Whenever you're ready, jagi."
"I—" The words lodge in Jinsik's throat. How many times has he had to have this conversation over the years? How many more times will he have to spill his guts for a man and pick them up again when he inevitably finds them too much of a mess to deal with? How will he handle it if Sumin repeats this cycle? Jinsik glances back up at him to find his curiosity fully replaced by concern. Please, please let this time be the last. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "I've had… Other relationships before." He doesn't need to tell Sumin this; he had garnered quite the reputation for his amount of failed relationships in just the first few months of school; rumours fly quite quickly on a college campus. Sumin hadn't cared in the slightest, nor does he care now. He continues after clearing his throat. "They weren't the best. Some of them cheated on me, some of them ghosted me… It doesn't really matter anymore, they're long gone. It's just…" Here he goes. "... Some of them have really—" He crosses his arms over his chest; nails biting into the meat of his arms. "—hurt me." Sumin sucks in a sharp breath.
"Oh, jagi—" Jinsik shakes his head before he can continue. He has to get this out now or he never will.
"It's not just…" He sighs. "Sometimes they wouldn't just hit me, o-or they'd hit me to get me to—to—" The words tangle around his tongue yet again. All the past decades come flying back to Jinsik again; all the strangers on the street, all the times he'd come back crying only to be called a cheater or worse, all the times he's been beaten and pushed down "because you're mine", every silver tongue that's turned to a vile intrusion against his own. All of them making Jinsik the victim of their own lack of humanity that he's learned to despise.
"Jagiya, it's okay." Sumin's gentle voice drifts past his screaming memories. "You don't have to say every detail, I… I think I get it." He reaches out to Jinsik, stopping just short of his hand. "None of it was your fault, nor does it change how I see you now. You're still the Jinsik I want to spend all my time with from now on." Jinsik sighs. Now's the hard part.
"It was my fault, actually." He puts a hand up before Sumin can protest. "Let me just show you so you'll believe me."
Sumin's favourite pocketknife—his first in a collection that he's been building since he was sixteen, a gift from his father—disappears from his nightstand and flicks open in Jinsik's hand.
"Jagi, what are you—"
Jinsik slices a deep white gouge in his own arm before Sumin can reach him.
"Just watch." Sumin does not just watch, scrambling to Jinsik's side and rushing to cover the wound left behind.
"I'm not going to just watch while you do this! Please jagi, I want to help you through whatever's—" Jinsik's wound knits shut under Sumin's hands; the red river flowing down his arm slowing to a trickle, then a stop. "—been haunting you… What the fuck—"
"I told you, yeobo. Just watch." Jinsik slashes open his other arm this time and places the knife against his throat before this one can even stop bleeding. "I need you to promise me you won't call me an ambulance."
Shellshocked, Sumin can only nod.
"Good boy." Are the last words out of Jinsik's mouth before the knife digs in as far as it will go. The whole blade disappears into his flesh and exits him dripping with red that he takes care not to get on Sumin's sheets. His neck spasms against the gush of blood floating down his throat. There’s nothing he can do to prevent the mess that sprays from his neck then; fine droplets of blood and spit finding their way to Sumin’s sheets and floor.
“Is this going to heal up too?” Sumin asks over the sound of Jinsik’s retching coughs. “Please tell me you’re going to heal from this.”
“I—” Jinsik can hardly get a word out through his chest-ripping coughs. “—I’ll be fine. I just—” There are flecks of blood on Sumin’s hands now too. “—have to show you this—” The edges of his wound grind together unpleasantly as he tries to swallow. “—first so you’ll take—” Stars dance about in his vision as his lungs deplete. “—this next part seriously.”
“There’s a next part?” Sumin’s voice starts to shake around what Jinsik knows is the instinct to gag. It’s commendable that he hasn’t fled yet; Jinsik’s last fling to make it this far had done so while filling him up with lead. He’s patient while waiting for Jinsik’s response, only reaching out for his hand when the lack of oxygen starts to make him sway.
“To put it simply…” Jinsik’s voice is about as smooth as sandpaper when he can finally speak again, heavy under the weight of blood clots that still cling to the inside of his throat. “I’m just irresistible to anyone who looks me in the eye.”
“Is—” Sumin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. An anxious habit. “—is that why you never look people in the eye? I really did think it was because you’re on the spectrum.” His words are carefully measured; Jinsik can see that he’s trying to make sure his actions are the same, but he can easily see Sumin’s curiosity starting to overtake him now. Nervous fidgeting with his hands has become a too-measured stillness, his body leaning towards Jinsik when he had initially been keeping his distance, his neck craning this way and that to get a proper look at Jinsik’s face. Cute.
“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m still on the spectrum,” Jinsik giggles. A laugh slips past Sumin’s careful composure to signal his guard dropping, and Jinsik rushes to strike.
“I’m also no longer human, yeobo.” He speaks into Sumin’s very soul; the very windows to them open and locked on to Jinsik’s. This always happens; they can never look away once Jinsik makes eye contact. His flesh used to crawl every time in anticipation—dread, really—for what would be to come, but… Sumin doesn’t move. He just melts under Jinsik’s gaze, slack-jawed in his awe. That… Hasn’t happened before. “This has been my curse for a long, long time. Don’t you feel it?”
“I…” Sumin swallows thickly. “... I feel something, alright. I feel you.” His hand twitches against Jinsik’s, as if being manipulated by someone else to grab a hold. Interestingly, he doesn’t. “I want you, Jinsik. I want you so bad it’s starting to hurt.” His body jerks somewhat as he crosses his legs; fast, but not fast enough to hide his arousal straining at the front of his pants. As expected. Oh, please don’t let Jinsik’s faith in him fail now!
“Aren’t you going to take me, then?”
Sumin recoils away from him as if he's been struck.
"What?! No, not after what you've just told me!" Sumin's voice shakes with the effort it takes to keep it steady. His hands do too; digging into the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turn white. "I—you said this is your-your curse, right?" Jinsik nods. "Then everything that happened to you still isn't your fault. You don't mean to—" Sumin swallows roughly. "—to bewitch people like this, right?"
"Most of the time I don't. I really hate it sometimes, but not now." Jinsik leans in closer to Sumin as he speaks. "I mean it right now, Sumin. What are you going to do?"
Sumin is silent for a long, long moment. Jinsik doesn't take his eyes off him for a single second of it; watching his blown-out eyes roam over his body, the hot flush of arousal blooming across his face, the bob of his throat working around words that don't come out.
"Nothing," Sumin finally says. His voice splinters on the word. "I won't be an animal just because you're cursed." Jinsik's bloody hand inches closer to his, so close that anyone else surely would have snapped. Sumin still doesn't move. "I won't touch you unless you—you, not your curse—want me to, jagi."
Jinsik's breath halts in his lungs.
"Yeobo, you're…" A delirious laugh bubbles up his throat. "You're the only person who has ever said that to me." He finally throws away his previous restraint and flings himself into Sumin's arms. As expected, Sumin yelps and tries to scramble away from him.
"I—the first?!" he stammers. "That's just not right, jagi, just because you're cursed doesn't mean other people have the right to—" Jinsik kisses him before he can start rambling. This should be the true point of no return, right? Wrong. Sumin's hands still hover over him without making any contact.
"Thank you, yeobo," Jinsik giggles against Sumin's lips. "I get the idea." Sumin nearly chokes to correct himself only for Jinsik to kiss him again. "I just had to make sure you wouldn't hurt me." Sumin's heart breaks before Jinsik's very eyes.
"Oh, jagi." He pulls Jinsik into a hug so tight that he can feel his heartbeat against him. "I would never. Curse or otherwise, I'll destroy myself before I ever let you be hurt."
Heart melting, Jinsik shakes his head.
"I can recover from being hurt—I'm still alive after everything that's been done to me after all—but you can't. Not like I can."
"Still—"
"Yeobo," Jinsik cuts in before Sumin and his morals can get ahead of himself. "I'm trying to tell you that out of all the pain that I've been put through, I'm ready to give myself to you." He extricates himself from Sumin's arms with a gentle hand and slides up the bed to nestle among his pillows, uncaring of the blood he smears behind him. "Come here." He flips the knife around in his hand and extends it to Sumin. "Take as much as you want from me."
Entranced, Sumin crawls up the bed until he's between Jinsik's legs. Trembling hands take the knife from his hands, fold it back up, and return it to the nightstand.
"I only want what you're willing to give me," he murmurs into the space between them. "I don't need a knife to show you that I love you." It's a lie that Jinsik easily spots in his eyes but one he indulges anyway. If Sumin is going to be this insistent on fighting Jinsik's curse for him, Jinsik might as well let him find his own way through.
"Even if I want it?" Jinsik asks. He keeps his eyes locked on Sumin's to watch his pure soul flail against the madness of Jinsik's curse. His grin grows the more Sumin struggles, only to falter when Sumin wins yet again.
"Do you want it or does your curse want it? I know this isn't something you can control but I don't like being played with, jagi." His gaze drops from Jinsik's eyes to his lips—still wanting but free of the curse's pull—safe territory.
Jinsik hesitates. Now that he's still being denied the pain that he's been bracing himself for, he finds himself disappointed that it won't come. This he knows to be his own heart speaking; the curse only touches his body. His body that has grown to conflate pain with pleasure can only determine whether or not it's experiencing a sensation; his mind is the only thing that can determine if he wants said experience…
He nods.
"I want it. I trust that you'll take me apart to love me after everyone else has done it to control me." Sumin's eyes are fully lucid when they meet Jinsik's again. The relief in them is palpable and tinged with the love that Jinsik has grown used to seeing yet is still surprised to find.
"I'll keep that in mind," he says with a bright smile, and then he's finally—finally—closing the space between them. Jinsik melts under him easily, lapping up his love just as eagerly as Sumin chases the taste of iron from his tongue. Sumin's hands trace the same route that his knife had sliced through Jinsik's arms only to find smooth, unbroken skin; the only evidence of that self-inflicted violence being the blood that now sticks to his fingers.
He leaves red handprints on Jinsik's clothes as he flips them over so Jinsik is nestled in his lap; if he wants to bleed, it'll get on him too. Jinsik smiles against him; it's so cute how Sumin wants to drown in him. He won't let that happen just yet, pulling back to let Sumin breathe.
"Jagi," Sumin growls in complaint. Uncaring of his need to breathe, he continues to kiss Jinsik everywhere he can reach; his cheeks, his jaws, his neck.
"Yeobo," Jinsik whimpers. "Sumin, that hurts." Sumin frowns in confusion until Jinsik's hands bat at his own. His fingertips are red when he finally loosens the grip he didn't know he had on Jinsik's waist, his nails having left crescent-shaped punctures in Jinsik's otherwise unmarred skin. He jerks back at the sight as if he had been burned.
"Oh shit," Sumin hisses. He pushes himself back against the headboard as if he can get away from Jinsik—who's still comfortably seated in his lap—and his own temptation to touch him again. "I'm so sorry jagi, are you—"
"I told you, I trust you." Jinsik cuts him off with a finger to his lips before he can start spiralling. Sumin freezes mid-word, entranced by the coy smile on Jinsik's face. Such a sweet boy, this one; Jinsik finds himself endeared this time around. "I know what you want to do to me, yeobo. Go ahead. I want it too." He punctuates his words by bringing Sumin's hand up to his mouth. Keeping his eyes locked with Sumin's, he traces Sumin's bloody fingertips over his lips. It's as easy as applying his favourite lipstick despite the sharp tang of iron. Sumin's tongue darts out to catch another taste just for the hell of it, and his breath hitches as if Jinsik had punched it out of him. His pupils are blown wide open with nothing but love in their depths. Not a trace of Jinsik's curse, and yet… "Hurt me more, yeobo," he purrs. "Make me feel how much you love me."
Ever obedient, Sumin needs no more direction before he's surging up to kiss Jinsik's blood off his lips. He chases the taste harder than a drug; past being a junkie, he becomes a beast in the way he licks and bites at Jinsik's lip for his blood. Got him.
"So beautiful," Sumin growls in tandem with his nails returning to the wounds he's already made. "My angel. Where are your wings?" Jinsik bites his lip against a giggle as Sumin turns his attention from his lips to his neck. His tongue is hot against his skin, surely able to taste the blood rushing just underneath.
"Me, an angel? You have too much faith in me, yeobo." Jinsik's heart still swells with fondness as he rejects Sumin's praise. It's then that Sumin chooses to bite down, hard and fast. He jerks his head like a beast—both to get his teeth deeper in and to deny Jinsik's denial.
"S'not true," he mutters through his mouth that's quickly overflowing with blood and flesh. "They're right here." His hands snake up Jinsik's shirt along his back. His hands are reverent unlike the savage rip of his teeth and Jinsik feels dizzy; loved and desired, worshiped and desecrated. He can't decide which feeling he likes more. Sumin, the beast, soothes the wound in Jinsik's neck with tender licks and kisses, lapping up his blood like one would savour a particularly sweet honey.
Now it's his hands' turn to deliver the pain; raking down Jinsik's back hard enough to leave lines of red welling up in their wake to stain and stick Jinsik's shirt to his skin. Tears roll down Jinsik's face in tandem with the blood on his back—tears of love, his life as his love that Sumin draws from him with the dig of his teeth or press of his lips.
"Going to dig my wings out of me, yeobo?" Jinsik asks, his voice strained against the rough drag of his shirt against his wounds.
"Mhm. Let me see you." Sumin's voice is slurred from all the blood in his mouth. Drunk on Jinsik's love. Sumin's hands leave him for only a moment; long enough for Jinsik to strip off his blood-soaked shirt and pass him the knife that's been lying neglected on the nightstand. He plunges it into Jinsik's back at the exact moment that Jinsik kisses him again, rough and sharp contrasting soft and tender. Sumin holds him as he chokes on his blood, laps it up from his lips while he shakes and spits up more. Such an eager puppy for any scraps of the death that he can never give him... Jinsik's in love.
Unable to express this in words thanks to the knife that's left and returned for another strike in his other lung, he confesses through more breathless, bloody kisses. Sumin returns them with equal, if not even more intense fervor, having already fallen past love and obsession into insanity.
"M'gonna find your wings," he whispers between kisses. "I'll find them and rip them out. You're my angel, I won't let you fly away to anyone else." True to his word as always, the knife returns to his back over and over again; slicing and splintering bone with every strike. Jinsik's lungs collapse somewhere between the fifth and seventh strike. Black spots that he's too weak to swat away dance in his vision. They interrupt his view of Sumin's pretty face, Jinsik wants to be rid of them.
The knife is replaced by Sumin's searching hands. They search through the mess left behind and splatter Jinsik's ruined skin and their sheets—already soaked by the knife's ravaging—with blood and gore. Jinsik falls limp against Sumin's chest as he fondles his broken ribs from behind, his fingers dipping into the gashes between them as if they were a pussy—a thought that has Jinsik blushing despite everything else that Sumin has already done to him before. He wonders if Sumin could cut one into him, one day.
His train of thought is interrupted by Sumin properly gripping his ribs and pulling. Some pieces are easily ripped from his flesh, some stubbornly cling to the rest of his frame. He at least has the sense to hold on to Sumin to help him, his head jerking back at the sudden resistance. Blood and drool run freely past his parted lips and make a mess of him that Sumin gladly cleans up with his tongue, all while his hands continue to twist and pull at Jinsik's ribs. The agony would be numbing if it wasn't for Jinsik's shot pain receptors, so overloaded that it only registers as white-hot pleasure.
Just as Jinsik is blindly groping for the knife again, Sumin's hands plunge into the holes he's dug into him.
"There you are." Jinsik can barely hear Sumin over the roar of blood in his ears. "Now let's take care of those wings, yeah?" His hands are on Jinsik's lungs before they can fill up with his response—not that they could with all the holes that have been punched through them.
Sumin yanks them out in one smooth motion. They tear against the jagged edge of his still-bleeding bones, a rough, wet dragging of flesh and fluid and organs stopped only by the impact of cartilage against his spine. The pull is cut off with a flash of Sumin's knife.
They're both soaked now, clothes and skin shining in varying shades of red. Jinsik had once associated it with the madness and rage that came with his curse; reviling how humanity chose to assign the dreadful colour to love instead. Now, however, having it pulled from him by Sumin, he understands. He craves more.
Sumin handles Jinsik's "wings" with a surprisingly gentle hand even as they drip blood all over him—then again he's already covered in it. He sets them aside next to his knife; "For later," he says, "I'll eat them once I'm done with you." Then, because he can never resist a joke: "Do you think they'll taste like chicken if I prepare them properly?"
Jinsik would groan if he had the ability. He rolls his eyes so hard they nearly drop into the back of his head instead; a grievance that Sumin rushes to placate. His chest spasms in weak, futile attempts to keep filling lungs that are no longer there, his throat working around nothing while Sumin kisses him through his perpetual death throes. They will never end permanently; only taper off as his corrupted body is forced to heal over and over again as Sumin continues to destroy him. Continues to love him.
"Sorry, sorry." He seals each apology with a kiss, so sweet that Jinsik can only accept. He can feel himself healing at the press of Sumin's lips; flesh knitting itself back together strand by strand to pull cracked bones back into place, nerves and veins zinging as they reconnect and resume their flow. Sumin is oddly patient this time around; his hands only tracing soothing patterns over his skin instead of digging in for more. Then again he's never hurt Jinsik this deeply—never loved Jinsik this deeply before. Perhaps he doesn't want to push. Jinsik's throat jerks in what might be a sigh—still impossible until his lungs have fully grown back—of endearment. Sumin is truly too sweet for him.
"You're so beautiful like this, jagi," Sumin whispers. His eyes are closed while he licks the blood off Jinsik's skin. "Feels so good to know you're mine." Jinsik would whimper if he could. Sumin soothes his needy twitches with another kiss, soft and sweet and full of blood. His touch is gentle on Jinsik's back; feather-light on his newly grown skin. The ridge of broken bone is still visible underneath as it knits back together. Jinsik flinches at the touch. "Sorry," Sumin whispers, his voice tinged with remorse. Funny that he's only apologizing now after all he's done. "How are you feeling?" Jinsik chokes on his answer; words aren't going to be possible for a good while yet.
He raises a blood-drenched hand to Sumin's, turning it around and opening his beloved's fingers to trace a messy red heart on his palm. Just to affirm his green light, he presses a kiss to the corner of Sumin's mouth. He leaves a shining red mark reminiscent of a lipstick stain that curves out of place as Sumin smiles at him. He's still so cute even when covered in his blood and the flush of sex high on his cheeks…
Jinsik spots the exact moment that Sumin’s heart melts; oozing slow and slick all over himself. No doubt this will make him sticky—well, even stickier than he already is—once he's fully ruined Jinsik.
"I love you too."
Jinsik's heart nearly stops for the first time in centuries. Had he really been that obvious? Of all the times he's ever been the first to say he loves someone, this is the only time he's meant it—and he hadn't even said it out loud!
"Please don't be scared, jagi." Sumin's voice breaks him out of his panic. "Let me be good to you, my love." Jinsik melts under his words and his touch. What else can he do when Sumin truly is so good to him? "Are you okay to lie down?" Jinsik nods and lets Sumin push him down to the bed even though his skin has barely healed enough to keep his fractured bones inside him. It's fine, he likes how it hurts.
Sumin is none the wiser, kissing him briefly before moving down to finally free him of the sticky, wet mess that is his pants. Jinsik chokes out a groan as the fabric is pulled—peeled, really—from his skin. He hadn't even noticed how uncomfortable it had been to be stuck in those while Sumin had his way with him.
"Oh, jagi," Sumin coos. "I've made a mess of you, haven't I? Let me clean you up." He's kissing a line down Jinsik's chest to his cock—still hard despite everything—and taking him into his mouth before Jinsik can respond—not like he can, with the blood gurgling up in his throat. He doesn't have the lungs to moan with yet so he only chokes while Sumin takes him down to the hilt; cleans him up with his tongue in that way that never fails to make him cry. He's been crying for a long time; it's a wonder how he hasn't dropped from dehydration yet. Another thing to worry about later, he supposes.
Sumin's teeth sink into his inner thigh hard enough to make him gasp—a proper gasp with air mixed in the blood this time—as if the cruel flick to his weeping cockhead wasn't enough to get his attention.
"Stay with me, jagi. I'm not finished with you yet." he growls. Don't be, Jinsik begs internally; I'm yours forever, keep cutting until there's nothing left, just don't ever finish with me. Don't leave, don't grow bored of me. There's still too much blood built up in Jinsik's throat for him to say it out loud, so he hopes his gurgling whine will suffice. "Good boy," Sumin purrs. He kisses the head where he had flicked him, wet and open-mouthed in time with his hand jacking him off like something out of his most filthy wet dream.
It isn't much longer before Jinsik is making a mess of himself under his beloved's lips; streaks of white joining the red already soaking his face and dripping down into a pretty pink that Sumin eagerly laps up. He's the perfect picture of debauched as he reaches for the knife again, and his voice is thoroughly wrecked when he speaks again: "Once you have your lungs back, I want to ask you something."
He asks about as casually as one would talk about the weather, as if Jinsik isn't lying slit-throat and boneless on his bloodied sheets. He had already been light-headed from the blood gathered in his throat; that combined with his orgasm has him teetering dangerously close to unconsciousness. Not that he would mind if Sumin kept going while he was out, but…
With the last vestige of his strength, he rolls onto his side so the near waterfall of his own blood can drain out of his mouth. It flows past their sheets onto the floor like a tide, cresting and receding in time with his body's weak struggles to keep his airways clear. Sumin just laughs fondly at his pain, too preoccupied with gathering the bloody cum from his face on his fingers and licking it off.
"Go ahead," Jinsik wheezes, about as smoothly as if he had swallowed a shot of acid. There's still an odd bubbling sound to his words, but at least he's properly audible now. "You know that I'd let you do anything to me as long as you still love me, right?"
"I know, and I do. God, I love you, Jinsik." The use of his name rather than the petname—rather generic, still thrilling when it came from Sumin's lips—stings ever so slightly until Sumin crawls up the bloody bed to kiss him. Jinsik would have expected anything other than the tenderness that Sumin presses to his lips. He kisses him like it's their wedding night, Jinsik's delirious brain supplies; and oh, how he would love for that to be reality. He'd wear the most pristine white just so Sumin could tear him apart and permanently dye it red. He faintly registers that he's been doing it to Sumin this entire time; every thrust of his knife has pulled another spray of red to stain the white shirt that he's still wearing. Jinsik's love has nearly drenched him. Is there something he's forgetting?
"Yeobo," he whimpers against Sumin's lips. "Didn't you want to ask me something?"
"Huh?" Sumin slurs. There's a mess of red smudged all over his face when he pulls back; swaying. Drunk on him. "Oh, right. I just…" He takes Jinsik's wrists and pins then above his head with surprising speed. "I wanna claim you, jagi. Can I, can I?" Jinsik spots the knife gleaming above him in Sumin's free hand. Not a threat, just a promise waiting on Jinsik's approval.
"Please."
Sumin plunges the knife down as soon as the word leaves Jinsik's lips. Three times it parts the soft skin of Jinsik's arm, twisting about inside his flesh and between his bones. Twice it penetrates Jinsik's throat, deep enough to make him gag against its sharp edge.
"Mine... You're all mine, jagiya," Sumin purrs between fervent kisses to Jinsik's bleeding neck.
"Yours," Jinsik chokes out through another gush of blood. It runs down his lips and stains his skin in an unending river, his blessing that had once been a curse and is now a blessing again. His embrace tightens around Sumin's back and pulls the wound in his arm wider. More blood pours down his skin and stains Sumin's white shirt; how ironic that his life should touch Sumin like this. His love touches Sumin like this.
"I love you." Sumin's words are punctuated with the final thrust of his knife between Jinsik's ribs and piercing his heart. "I'm keeping you like this forever."
Jinsik comes again with a broken cry. Both Sumin’s words and his knife reach deeper inside him than anything that Jinsik’s past lovers have touched him with and it’s more than he can bear, more than he's ever taken at once. Sumin watches him fall apart with nothing short of wonder.
"Here I was thinking it was hard to come from being penetrated," he mutters under his breath; a joke meant only for himself.
"You—" Jinsik spits out yet another mouthful of blood. "—clearly underestimate me." A devious idea lights up in his head once Sumin's joke registers and he grins up at him, his tongue curling around his teeth. "Want to fuck me with that knife?"
Sumin startles and pulls it halfway out, blood spurting out around it with every bump of its rough handle against his ribs. Jinsik, already trembling from oversensitivity, cries out in pleasure. Light-headed again from blood loss, Jinsik slurs out another joke. "So nice of you to use one with a ridged handle, yeobo. Feels sooo good inside me~"
Sumin thrusts the knife back inside him with an endeared huff.
"You're insane," he sighs over Jinsik's choked moan. "Good thing I am too, I had a similar idea." He pulls the knife all the way out before Jinsik can ask about it, leaving him to bleed while he finally strips off his bloodstained clothes.
Sumin's naked body is truly a sight to behold. He's still decently toned despite being softer than Jinsik from more time spent at an easel than the gym, his strength stemming from a childhood spent playing sports out in the sun. He still casually indulges every time the weather permits him, his clumsy legs and arms easily carrying him through match after match that Jinsik is all too content to watch.
Jinsik lets Sumin manhandle him farther up the bed and prop him against the soaked pillows, woozy from what little blood he has left in him rushing back down to his dick.
"Like what you see, jagi?"
Black spots dance about in Jinsik's already-blurred vision, but he nods anyway. He'll be sure to get on his knees to properly worship Sumin's cock later when he can actually see it.
"That's a relief, I was getting self-conscious after seeing you." Jinsik can only manage a whine in protest. "I know, I know, you want to try and brush me off. Not going to happen, jagi." Sumin's blurry silhouette moves again, likely reaching for the knife. Sure enough, the blood-warmed metal presses against the skin under Jinsik's ribs a moment later. "You can get back at me later, just let me have this for now."
His words are punctuated by a thrust of the knife into Jinsik's skin, beneath and up into the soft flesh under his bones. He pulls it out and turns it perpendicular to its previous angle, driving it in again to widen the wound while Jinsik cries and writhes under him. Jinsik can faintly see his blood staining Sumin's skin with his hazy eyes. His bleeding heart has yet to heal—not that it could with Sumin's fingers working their way inside it. It squirts red halfway to Sumin's elbow, soaking it in blood that he then smears all over his cock. Lubing himself up. Oh, is he going to—
The answer to Jinsik's unspoken question comes with Sumin lining himself up with the dripping hole under his ribs and pushing his way between Jinsik's organs. The pressure against his freshly-regenerated lungs punches a breathless moan from him and he nearly blacks out, kept conscious only by the wave of pleasure that overtakes him. Sumin doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt and Jinsik swears his dick is touching his heart, the intrusion twitching in time with his pounding pulse. While the knife had done a decent enough job at prepping him, his flesh still stretches around Sumin's cock in a way that has Jinsik's head spinning.
"Fuck, jagi," Sumin groans. He knocks his head against the wall, fighting to keep his ragged breath steady. "You're so wet for me. M'not gonna last long like this." Jinsik heart—while physically bleeding—metaphorically soars at the admission. He affects Sumin this much?
"Hurry 'n fuck me then," Jinsik slurs. "Dare you t'come inside."
"You're gonna kill me," Sumin whines, high and wrecked. "You're seriously going to fucking kill me." He starts moving after a moment's hesitation, his hands braced against his headboard for leverage.
He fucks Jinsik slow but deep, each thrust touching his heart and punching a bloody, breathless moan from him. Jinsik's body convulses with every intrusion, each nerve set alight in his overstimulation.
"You feel so good around me," Sumin moans. "Always so good for me." His rhythm starts to grow sloppy as he chases his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love you so much."
Sumin's praise—along with the sensory overload that he's putting Jinsik through—finally tips him over the edge yet again, his neglected cock coming untouched for the second time tonight.
"Sumin—yeobo—please," Jinsik cries, his voice trembling as he shakes through his orgasm. "Use me. Inside."
Sumin's only response is a curse under his breath and a change of pace, fast and hard until there's a wet slapping sound accompanying his thrusts. Something tears inside Jinsik at the same time Sumin stills with a low groan, coming hot and heavy under Jinsik's ribs until it overflows. Jinsik can faintly feel it coating his heart and can't help the delirious smile that spreads across his face. No one else has ever had him this way. No one else ever will.
"I love you," Sumin moans, breathless and shaky. "I love you so fucking much."
Cum and blood gushes from Jinsik's ruined hole in a pink tide when Sumin pulls out of him. He rushes to lap it up, green hair staining red the instant his head rests against Jinsik's chest.
"Love you too," Jinsik sighs. "More than anything."
Sumin kisses him then, soft and sweet and tasting like both of them. Jinsik chases after it, too weak to do much more than suck it off Sumin's tongue while he recovers. His skin grows back together first and seals Sumin's release inside him, safe and warm in his chest.
Realistically he knows his body will reject it eventually, but at least for now he's content with knowing that he has a part of Sumin right next to his heart for the night.
Warning(s): Unreality, Manipulation, Kidnapping, softcore psychological torture. Basically if the Tricky House mv was a TMA statement
Description: A sneak peek into the recorded archives of the KQ Foundation, dedicated to researching the paranormal.
(Read on Ao3)
[Click]
Minjae
Statement of Kim Gyuguk, regarding a suspected dokkaebi attack on his nightly commute from work on the Seoul Metro. Original statement given March 30, 2023. Audio recording by Kim Minjae, Apprentice Archivist of the KQ Foundation, South Korea. Statement begins.
Minjae (Statement)
I'm no stranger to the consequences of working overtime. The lost sleep, the sickly feeling that comes with eating too much too late at night, the amount of staggering that it takes to get back on my feet in the following days... Well, it's not like it can be helped. Business is business, and my boss would have my head if I didn't finish this project by tomorrow. I know I'm not young enough to keep shaking off these consequences for much longer, but at least the overtime pay can carry me over for now. Last night was no different than usual.
I arrived at the office before the sun rose to get a head start on my work, but that still didn't prevent me from being unable to leave until well after it set. Thankfully I was still able to catch the last train home, and unsurprisingly it was empty. I couldn't help but notice as I sat down that the absence of other people seemed to highlight the amount of graffiti in the car that I had chosen. Teenagers these days have too much time on their hands, I suppose. At the time, I was really too tired to care and started to drift off the instant the train started to move. It was while I was nodding off that I noticed the train car wasn't as empty as I assumed it to be.
There was a young man in the corner seat next to the door that connects the separate train cars together. Half his face was covered by a hat, but even then I could tell that he was quite handsome. His attitude seemed to leave much to be desired however, considering how he was sitting with one foot up on the seat next to him—then again, I'm sure all the young ladies that surely flock to leave love notes in his locker have no regard for that. Sometimes I worry for this generation. Well, whatever, I was much too tired to give him a scolding and he seemed to be minding his own business as well aside from giving me that look that all teenagers like to give adults, so I was content to stay in my seat until one of us reached our stop. He, however... Was not.
I heard his footsteps coming toward me while my eyes were closed, stopping just in front of me. I really wasn't in the mood to entertain him, so I paid him no mind when it just seemed like he was standing there. I then heard a slight rustle of clothes, and then the headphones that he had been wearing were placed over my head. I braced myself for some screaming noise or nonsense, but it was actually quite pleasant. He hadn't been listening to anything, just some white noise at a low volume to drown out the noises of the train. I could have fallen asleep, until the very noise I had been expecting began to blast into my head!
I stood up to confront him, but he just backed away with this... Cryptic grin on his face. In my headphones, I could hear something like "Let me show you around our mysterious Tricky House"... Whatever that means. The boy managed to lipsync to it perfectly without even hearing his own music. I would have grabbed his shoulder to ask what he meant, demand that he explain himself or apologize, but he just stepped through the door connecting our train car to the next one before I could even think to move. There were two other boys beyond that door, one who greeted this little troublemaker with an embrace that was quickly hidden from my view by the other boy stepping out to block me.
He was dancing in my face, somehow lipsyncing along perfectly to the song blasting in my ears despite being unable to hear a word. The song was asking me to look around, to pick what was real... I didn't quite understand why he seemed to be following it along so closely until he threw out his hand and nearly struck me. I managed to avoid his arm by sidestepping him and turning around, but perhaps the motion was too fast for me to handle. No matter how I try to reason with my own memory, I clearly saw three wisps of blue flame fly out from this second boy's hand in the direction I was now facing. I could only watch as they fanned out in front of me and disappeared in a blinding flash. Where the flames were, there were three more boys standing in front of me, also dancing to the music that they surely couldn't hear. Then again, it was playing so loud in my own ears that it might have been leaking out of those headphones. The leader of this little squad asked me if I was "feeling their game", whatever that means. I'll never understand young people and their slang, but I do know that I did not want anything to do with this game! Then, I...
I'm really not sure what exactly happened. I know I took a step towards them to push my way through and leave for the next car, only to find myself already in the next car down in the blink of an eye! When I regained my bearings, there was another little group in this gang of troublemakers blocking my path! There must have been four or five of them this time, one that I recognized as the second little trouble maker who threw the flames. He and the rest of this group were led by a foreigner, who asked me—well, I can't be sure if it even was his voice playing in my ears, but he lipsynced it very well—in perfect Korean if I was worried about losing. I wanted nothing to do with this game to begin with, so I took a step back to the car I'd started my ride in.
Again, I found myself thrown backward to the car past it! Someone threw a hand over my shoulder from behind, then, and a voice in my ear—the same one playing in my headphones, though I have no idea how I was still able to hear it over the noise—welcoming me to their "playground". By this point I was quite stricken by motion sickness, so I didn't dare move again. The troublemakers did it for me, flashes of blue fire flying out from behind me and disappearing to reveal a boy with strikingly red hair in front of me. He said... He said many things to me, though it was so fast that I had trouble hearing any of it.
His companions appeared and disappeared in blinding flashes all around him and me, pushing me around and dazzling me until I started to feel much more than a little sick. I did my best to keep it down while these boys flashed and danced around me—despite how terribly mannered they were being, me throwing up on them would be much worse—but it eventually got to be too much, my stomach flickering with an unbearable heat until I was forced to retch. It was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. Blue-hot flames ripped their way from my throat instead of bile that left a burning sensation behind like no other. I felt as if my entire torso were being emptied, and although I was already hungry as I stepped onto the train, my hunger was pulled out from me as well. Those flames had burned me numb. Even though I must have been under some kind of influence because of this gang—whether they had secretly drugged me or there was some kind of subliminal frequency imbedded in those headphones that I still hadn't taken off, that wasn't even the strangest part about this entire thing!
No, what unsettles me the most is that after I had vomited up those flames, the movement... Seemed to make the entire train expand , somehow. I highly doubt one human who had spontaneously thrown up blue flames could ever be capable of that, but the timing of it all seemed to match up. The whole train car split down the middle and widened until it would have been impossible to fit inside the tunnel, though that didn't seem to impact it at all. The floor looked all the same, but where the door and walls had split there was only a sickening distortion like someone had stretched it with an editing software. The ceiling had gone through the most dramatic change, now opened up to reveal a mess of gears and machinery that shrieked and sparked against itself; all lit up in blue. The flames I spewed flashed into place in the center of it all, now taking the form of a whole gang of ten boys, all still dancing circles around me.
One boy gave an absolute roar of a rallying cry, and the entire train just... Exploded into a mass of scrap metal. I don't know how I managed to get out of it all unharmed. The oddest thing about it wasn't even my survival or how I was still moving as if I was still on the train even while it was falling apart around me; it was how the world outside looked. Instead of seeing a dark tunnel scattered with sparking metal, I just saw pure pitch black. It was like the world hadn't yet formed around me and consisted of only me and these hooligan boys.
The next thing that I remember is coming to in a shopping cart at my usual station. The weight of those headphones was gone, but my ears still buzzed with noise. My head did as well, I was operating as if through a dream. Before I could move to pull myself up from the cart it was seized from behind, and I was helpless to resist my being pushed all around the station. I at least still had my briefcase—I was clutching it for dear life at this point—while on my chaotic ride. I didn't even have to look behind me to know who was pushing me. I could hear their whooping and jeering echoing all along the station. I flew along the tunnels at a dizzying pace, the blue light of these creature-boys flashing around me all the while through. There was one pair that I noticed seemed to dance around each other quite a lot, colliding in the air before me and sending off showers of blue sparks. At one point I could have sworn that one exploded into a puff of flame shaped like a heart... Well. I certainly hope it wasn't directed towards me!
They pushed me clean through the gate to leave the station. I'm past questioning why I got out unharmed or how no one came running to investigate the noise of my cart crashing past. I just wanted to know where they were taking me. We zipped through the back roads, where no one could possibly witness this chaos. I remember trying to jump out on multiple occasions—often helped by the chaotic steering of whoever or whatever was pushing me—to no avail. Everything from here is a sort of blur. I remember faces; more young men laughing in my face and running circles around my prison in the cart. If they were still singing that song, I wouldn't be able to tell you… My whole mind was just a mess of noise.
I vaguely remember coming to a stop at the arcade near my station. They tipped me out of the cart quite rudely—and directly into the closed door! I braced myself for impact, but… it never came. The door swung open just ahead of me before I could hit it and I instead collided with a short but solid body. This one said… Something along the lines of "Follow me" and dragged me into the arcade. It was all lit up as if it were the middle of the day; cabinets lighting up with noise and flashing in our wake. I was surrounded by the time we stopped. They had cornered me in front of a claw game full of stuffed animals, each of them cheering and begging me to win them one from their respective places at the other machines.
"If you think for a second that I'd be willing to spend a penny for you rascals, you're sorely mistaken!" I scolded. They just laughed harder, all their voices overlapping until I could barely make out a word. The short one who had dragged me into the arcade raised a hand and they all stopped; he must be their leader.
"Money won't be an issue, mister," he said, and then he pointed to the bag I still had clutched in my arms. "Look inside."
I didn't trust any of these boys as far as I could throw them—and I'm not nearly as strong as I used to be—so I kept my eye on them all as I reached into my bag. I half suspected this was some kind of trick until my hand closed around an unfamiliar weight.
"Go on, sir! Take it out and give your wallet a good whack!" The leader's eyes unsettled me as he spoke. They gleamed with a deep, bright blue light that didn't come from any of the arcade machines; it seemed to come from inside his body. The others' eyes shone too but it was more of a reflection; all their gazes trained on the leader whose stare pierced right through me.
I was hesitant to follow his suggestion until I felt the heft of whatever they had put in my bag. It was dense and solid, vaguely long. Perhaps I could use it as a weapon if push came to shove. I took it out with the express intention of this only to find… A microphone. What was I supposed to do with that? Instead of the laughing and jeering that I expected, I was only met with stares of nearly tangible anticipation.
"If you’re nervous about taking out your wallet in front of us, just hit your bag!” their leader said. I had half a mind to just scold these boys and leave until I just… Couldn't. There was something in the gleam of his eyes that held me still. I knew I had no choice but to obey, so I raised the microphone up and brought it down on my bag as if it were a drum.
It immediately swelled to near bursting with coins; so quickly that I heard the seams creaking. I nearly dropped it in my surprise. The other boys roundly started cheering for me and resumed their pleading for their plushies—why they couldn't just steal them on their own was beyond me—and I had no choice but to turn around and start playing.
“Showtime!” their leader cheered as I loaded the first few coins in. At this point I’m really not sure if I was fully in control of myself. I remember thinking “How can I keep letting them do this? I’m not even being threatened into this, I should just leave!” only for my legs to refuse to move. I must have been in that arcade for hours winning toy after toy for this gang—what a strange ransom to demand from strangers—until I finally had full control of myself again.
I turned around to give them the scolding they all deserved only to be met with the leader pointing a gun from one of the point-and-shoot games directly into my head. He fired it with a “Pow!” and suddenly I was in an empty parking lot somewhere underground. Every plushie that I had given to those brats was now cradled in my arms and overflowed to the floor, but I really couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to that because of what was in front of me.
Blocking the exit to this garage were five mascot costumes that I vaguely recognized as life-size versions of the plushies in my hands. How they got there to block my exit was beyond me; I was more unsettled by their presence by anything. There had to be people inside for these costumes to be even standing; were they in league with this boy gang? I remember my bag having to be refilled by that microphone wand multiple times while I was in the arcade and it was still heavy with coins now; could this all have been a ploy to rob me?
I had no time to think of an answer before I just… Dropped everything in my arms and started dancing. It was like before; I didn’t feel in control of my body at all. I thought perhaps I could just be finally starting to snap under the sheer absurdity of my situation until I tried to resist my own movement. Something pulled tight around my arm and in the opposite direction of my resistance. It didn’t stop pulling even when I let my arm go slack again; I nearly thought this force was going to tear my arm off! Thankfully it just resumed dragging me around in that oddly intense dance that it initially puppeteered me into doing just a second later, and I was helpless to resist. Unfortunately my endurance isn’t nearly what it used to be; whatever was controlling me only seemed to be working on my movements and I found myself growing exhausted within moments. The mascots were upon me by then, all dancing around me and getting closer and closer with every move. Soon the proximity grew crushing, and I blacked out yet again.
The next time I came to was back in the shopping cart, and we were stopped in an alley where the back street racers park all their bikes. The boys were all dancing in a ring around me, chanting something. Once they noticed I had woken up, there was a great shouting and they all scattered. I tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by that first boy I had seen on the train. He spun me around to face an area of the wall that was still somehow blank of any graffiti and then disappeared from view. Another boy took his place with his fingers lit up in blue sparks… Which boy this was, I can't say, I was far too dizzy to make anything out. He signed the wall with a rather strange word… Perhaps it's a new slang that the kids have come up with; I think it was… xikers? Whatever that means. Another boy was covering my eyes before I could process it fully.
His face appeared before me only a split second later, lit up in all directions by a carnival. This unsettled me deeply; not only was it still far too cold for any carnivals here, I didn’t recognize this one at all! It was all… Off. I’m sure I’ve been someplace similar, but this wasn’t it; not exactly. My blood started to curdle as this boy was telling me that “We like it like”... something. I couldn’t quite hear him over the blaring of the rides. I remember being on one—a merry-go-round that was going far too fast for my liking—but I have no memory of getting on or off. I only remember my legs feeling like jelly as I held on for dear life. At this point the boys’ lighter and that booming music from when this night began was permanently ingrained into my head; I hear it even now, actually. It still rang in my ears even after I was transported off the ride—I really don’t know how I did it—back onto solid ground. The microphone was back in my hand instead of the merry-go-round pole; now extended on a short stand.
I don’t remember what I wanted to do with it. I just know that the boys were trying to wrestle it from my grip and that they weren’t supposed to have it. Still, an entire ten against one is hardly a fair match, so I was struggling quite a bit. Amid their pushing each other for a hold and shouting words I can’t recall into the receiver, I managed to shake them off with a strong swing—directly into an ATM next to me.
Like my bag, it exploded with riches. Bills flew every which way and I’m not above admitting I tried to catch a few. The boys seemed to have no interest in them, just dancing around me and taunting me about how they like to play their game. I couldn’t help but notice the first boy from the train and the boy who received him when he switched with the second were staying awfully close throughout all this… Well, it’s none of my business. I was more preoccupied with the chaos around me to care; the lights in this carnival all started to go dark all at once amid the flurry from the ATM. It’s not like they turned off—no, they just changed.
Yet again I found myself surrounded in a deep ultra blue while the carnival just melted away from around me. It was like I was in the train again being pushed through the entire train without feeling any of the movement; illuminated only by the blue wisps of fire that I had since come to understand were the boys who had chosen to terrorize me. Now that there was no background noise to torment me I could hear their words more clearly; something about a strange and beautiful dokkaebi house. I was beyond confusion at this point; the things that these boys had subjected me to throughout the night could be nothing else but the work of a trickster spirit. I would have honestly believed that they had gone extinct since modern times, however this clearly proved me wrong.
It was then that I noticed my arms felt much lighter than before. I checked my bag in a panic; everything was there. The coins that it had been overflowing with at the arcade were the only things missing along with the microphone and its stand. I'll be honest, I was glad to have them gone. I only worried for what it was about to be used for in the hands of the dokkaebi boy in front of me.
"When the bat hits, what will it become?" he asked me, twirling it about in my face. I didn't have the slightest clue what "it" he could be referring to; I just hoped it wasn't me. I was then surrounded by echoing cheers of "Tell me what you want" and "tell me what you need". Were they asking me? All I wanted or needed was a way out of here, seriously…
I must have said it out loud; for the boy then smiled at me and beat the microphone against the ground.
In a puff of blue smoke, my tormentors disappeared and were replaced by a sleek, red Ferrari in front of me. My surroundings were pitch black; that car was the only thing remotely illuminated. Finally, my way out! At the time I didn't think to question why I was given such a gaudy ride out, nor did I wonder why I suddenly had the keys to such an expensive car just lying there in my pocket. In hindsight, I really should have.
Once I opened the door, the chaos that I assumed had ended began again. I entered in blessed silence and just took a moment to breathe, to take in what I thought was my escape. I had grown so accustomed to the booming music that had been beating my ears since the train ride that I had almost forgotten what peace sounded like… I missed it. Perhaps if I had never turned the key, I could have just walked away and found my own way home. Unfortunately I was so tired that all I wanted to do was enjoy a comfortable ride home.
The music blasted through the speakers as soon as the engine turned over. I was so startled that I stamped down on the gas instead of the brake; never mind that I hadn't even shifted the car into gear yet. That didn't seem to matter to it; the parking brake released and it slammed itself into gear without my hands even leaving the steering wheel. Speaking of the wheel I could hardly get a grip on it; any direction that I was able to pull it in was the result of all my strength and as a result had no real control whatsoever. On and on in furious circles I swerved until I was certain that I would be sick again—perhaps if I was any younger I would have found this fun, but as it is I've grown out of that phase quite thoroughly. It's a miracle that I didn't crash in all the darkness that still surrounded me. All I could see past the windshield was headlights glowing ahead of me—though I occasionally caught flashes of shapes in their beam before the car swerved away again. I did everything I could to stop; slamming the brakes, pulling up the emergency brake, even removing the key from the ignition; all to no avail. I got to the point where all I could do was beg and cry for someone to come stop me, for my captors to have mercy, anything!
No such solace came.
The next thing I remember was waking up in an empty lot all the way across the city with a pounding headache, surrounded by burned-out tire marks and an entire supply closet's worth of brooms. I still had all my belongings—though my phone was long dead—and as far as I can tell my physical condition was fine save for some fatigue. They hadn't even taken any of my money; everything that had been spent at the arcade came from that mysterious magical microphone. Thankfully I was able to regain my bearings without too much struggle—this was near where I used to attend university—and I made my way straight to this place to give my statement. It's a wonder you lot are still open that late—or early—given how secluded your building is. Well, it's none of my business, I'm just glad I was able to give my statement. Surely the police would have me detained and tested for lunacy. I wouldn't blame them; even now I can still hear that song echoing in my mind…
"Shanti, Shanti, ya-ya-ya, Shanti, ya-ya-ya," over and over again. Perhaps I should just get some rest.
Minjae
Statement ends.
Well! It sounds like this Kim Gyuguk-ssi had a fun night! Honestly, I would be more inclined to chalk this up to a bad trip from some shady drugs that the boy on the train gave him that he's just in denial of—if it weren't for the corroborating evidence that Hunter was able to dig up for me. While digging through transit status updates for March 30th—last night, actually—he found a "strange disturbance" on the last train of the night. Security officers at the time reported what looked and sounded to be an explosion followed by a significant delay in the train's arrival, however when it did get to the final station it was perfectly intact—with no passengers.
He also managed to get his hands on the security footage from that empty lot that Gyuguk-ssi woke up in. There was indeed an unexplained outage early this morning for nearly an hour, only for the cameras to come back on with a clear view of him lying unconscious in the middle of the lot; indeed surrounded by unexplained tire tracks and a large arrangement of old brooms scattered all around him.
During my own research—actually it was during my commute to work here—I did pass by the arcade that Gyuguk-ssi mentioned. The staff were gathered around having a heated discussion with each other; it turns out there was some kind of break in—even though there was no evidence of tampering—and one of their claw machines was stocked full of coins but no prizes. Those had all been found in a pile in the parking lot along with the mascots they use for children's parties. Seems like an awful coincidence…
Well, all the research that can be done on this subject has been done; Junmin suggested that we let Gyuguk-ssi get a little rest before we contact him again. All the better for me, maybe I can ask my boss to let me off early. Kim Hongjoong is no slouch, but he knows it's useless to hold people when there's no work to be finished.
Maybe then my friends and I can welcome another guest to our house~
Warning(s): Suggestive. Very suggestive. No smut, though
Description: Today is supposed to be a quiet day; one of the only days that could vaguely be considered "free time" so close to their comeback. Sumin had planned to spend it quietly in Jinsik's company, the two of them working on their own projects while in each other's orbit, because that's how most of their dates go to begin with, so why not kill two birds with one stone?
Unfortunately, Sumin's feelings—some new and some still unsaid from months ago—prove to be too much of a distraction for him. Then again, if it leads to them both discovering new things about each other, is it really such a bad thing?
(Read on Ao3)
Note if you don't use ao3 and can't see the notes I put there: I made Sumin trans and Jinsik autistic because I'm autistic and trans and I say so. I did the same thing with Jinsik in LYHSU, again because I'm autistic and I see him with my autistic eyes, however it should go without saying that I am not diagnosing him nor am I clocking Sumin, this is just my fun projection onto their stage personas.
It's unusually quiet in the dorms today. Minjae is holed up in his room, no doubt having been up since the previous night working on his own projects. Junmin has been dragged out by the four of the 05s for a day out on the town, though he only agreed to it on the condition that they come straight back home if they're spotted. All the better, really, considering their comeback is in less than a week. Speaking of the comeback, Hyunwoo has elected to stay in the practice rooms to clean up some choreo details that he claimed to be lacking in. Sumin thinks he's doing fine—especially considering his comparatively late start—but decided not to argue as he left. Jinsik is staying home to keep Junghoon company, so that leaves Sumin with the opportunity to be completely—well, almost—alone with his boyfriend for a whole day. It's not like they won't be getting anything done anyway; Sumin's got his notebook in his lap that he's drafting a new song in while Jinsik goes over his vocals.
Jinsik's voice is fucking gorgeous. Even while just going through warmups, he has Sumin mesmerized. It might be a bad thing, considering that he has projects to work on, but it's fine. There's no deadline yet, so he can afford to bask in his love a little longer. At this point, he's sure most Roadies have caught on to their relationship with how much he sings his praise for Jinsik's... Everything, really—not to mention their whole "honey-darling" thing getting exposed early on. It's not like he minds. From what he's seen while stalking his own searches, those who have caught on are at least graciously staying silent for their sake or are thinking that they're imagining things.
"Koong, koong, yeah no turning back~" Jinsik changes up his run at the end this time. He's surprised himself with how nice it sounds compared to his other practice runs, if the way he perks up like a happy puppy has anything to show for it. Sumin hides his smile behind his notebook. He'd hate to distract Jinsik with his feelings—which are very much not conducive to his practicing! Still, he can't resist the urge to compliment him.
"You should do that the next time we perform it live, jagi. Roady will go wild for it," he comments. He watches the blush dust Jinsik's cheeks, accompanied by that flustered half-smile he always has whenever someone praises him unexpectedly. Jinsik knocks his foot against his from the other side of the couch they've been sharing.
"Stop it. They'll go wilder for your killing scream—they have been, actually. Did you see how they reacted to the teaser?" Ah, Jinsik, humble and deflecting the praise as always. Good thing Sumin is persistent enough to keep laying it on until Jinsik accepts it.
"I did. I couldn't have done it without your voice leading me in, though." Sumin closes his notebook to seal his words in. He isn't going to get much work done at this point, anyway. Jinsik makes a sort of whining noise in complaint, staring off somewhere to the side instead of meeting Sumin's eyes. That's fine by Sumin, he knows how Jinsik is with eye contact. He won't force him. "I mean it! You have a really impressive high note before I scream anyway, Roady will love a double kill like that! I love it!" He crawls over to Jinsik's side of the couch, stopping just short of his lap. "I love you~ " he adds, just because he can.
"You're distracting me from my practice," Jinsik mutters, though his smile is audible in his words. He continues before Sumin can respond. "I don't mind, though. I was running words—out of the—running of—" he cuts himself off with an incoherent jumble of half-words, his tongue betraying him yet again. Cute.
"Take your time, jagi." Sumin reaches out to take Jinsik's hand, squeezing it in reassurance. Jinsik squeezes it back, fumbling with his free hand for his phone. He taps something out on his notes, passing it to Sumin after a moment.
"Was running out of words for 2day neway, if I kept going I wouldn't want 2 talk when the others get home :(" it says. Understandable, he's been practicing all their previous releases and every song on their upcoming comeback since they had finished lunch. Sumin expresses this much in the reply he types out on another line.
"That's fair, you've been at it for a while now. The others will understand though, you don't have to worry about that!" He passes Jinsik's phone back to him, watching his face while he waits for the reply. Jinsik's eyebrows furrow, and those pretty lips twist into a pout.
"Yea bt I wanna talk 2 them :( Idk it jst feels kinda unfair if I'm 2 tired 2 talk" Jinsik looks up at Sumin like a kicked puppy when he passes the phone back to him. Sumin's heart lurches in his chest. Jinsik is truly too sweet for this world.
"Jagiya, everyone would rather you be quiet and comfortable than force yourself to talk if you don't want to! If anyone gives you trouble for it, I'll scold them >:(" Jinsik's face breaks into a smile upon reading Sumin's reply. God, that smile. Sumin had already been enamored the moment he saw it. If Jinsik had looked like an untouchable angel before he smiled, then after he did, he looked like the sun's warmth personified; and Sumin was freezing . The way his eyes curve up into crescent moons, those adorable dimples, and his teeth... Those fucking teeth. So straight and white and a subtle sort of sharp that Sumin sort of really wants to feel sinking into his skin. He shakes the thought out of his head just in time for Jinsik to pass his phone back to him.
"You'll blow out everyone's ears lol" Sumin has to take a second to recall what they had just been talking about, having gotten more than a little caught up in his own head. Jinsik giggles as Sumin fumbles to reply. What can he say, at this point? Surely Jinsik has caught on to the state he's in, right?
"Uh. Sorry, head empty," Sumin stammers out loud, handing Jinsik's phone back to him with the cursor blinking on an empty line. Jinsik can't stop giggling as he types up his next message. Sumin bites his lip to hold back the rush of feelings that bubble up in his chest at the sound, all those soft and gushy sweet nothings that the others make fun of him for every time he lets them slip around them. It's not like he's embarrassed to be this in love, it's just... This is a side that only Jinsik can unlock. It's only fair that only Jinsik can see it.
"U were the one trying to distract me and now here u are~ U didn't even want to work on anything, did u? 🤨" Jinsik keeps grinning at him when he passes his phone over, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth like a playful puppy. This is not helping Sumin out of the pit he's falling into!
"I did, I was working on things!" Sumin whines out loud, pulling another round of giggles from Jinsik. Fuck it, might as well bite the bullet.
"But yeah I guess you're right... Since we're both distracted, can I just kiss you instead?" This time, Sumin is the one who can't face Jinsik while passing the phone back. It's sort of stupid how flustered he still gets even after they've been together for almost a year now. Then again, even after this long, Jinsik still finds new ways to thrill him.
Like now, when Jinsik's pocketing his phone instead of typing a new message and pulling Sumin the rest of the way into his lap. He reaches up to cup Sumin's face with his free hand, his thumb gently tracing over his lip in a silent request. Sumin's breath hitches.
"Please," he whispers. There's barely any space between them now, yet it's also far too much. Jinsik huffs out a laugh into that minute chasm between them.
He knocks his forehead against Sumin's—most likely to tease him for still being too shy to initiate it when he had been the one to ask for a kiss to begin with—and finally closes the distance between them.
Sumin melts into him instantly. Jinsik smiles against his lips, soft and sweet. It shouldn't be this easy to wind him up, but here he is falling apart just from one kiss and the warmth of Jinsik's hand on his face. Then again, it's been quite a while since they've had time to be alone together, and it'll be even longer until they get this chance again. Best savour the chance while they have it.
Sumin sighs against Jinsik's lips, still so soft against his own even though he feels like a dog straining at its leash. Jinsik takes it as a sign to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and slotting their lips together until Sumin's head is spinning.
"Jagi," he all but whimpers. Jinsik hums in response, those deep brown eyes staring into his with so much unbridled love that Sumin's breath gets knocked straight from his chest. Not the best thing to happen considering he had broken the kiss to catch it, but that doesn't matter. His want for oxygen is irrelevant, he needs Jinsik. It must be obvious with the way Jinsik grins at him, his tongue curling around his canines and setting Sumin's heart alight.
"I really want you to bite me," Sumin blurts out, breathless and dazed. Jinsik gives a choked yelp, drawing back in surprise. He doesn't push Sumin away, at least. "I-I mean! I just—um." Sumin flails for the right words to explain himself, looking everywhere but Jinsik's flushed face. "I really like your teeth?"
Nailed it.
Jinsik gives a flustered squeak, his hands instinctively coming up to cover his mouth. Sumin has half a mind to stop him but refrains. Jinsik has never handled being suddenly restrained very well.
"Please don't misunderstand, it's just... I've been thinking about it for a while—”
“I’d say it was Jinsik,” Sumin had said upon being asked who in his team should be MVP for short-forms. “At first he seemed a bit awkward, but as time went by he started to relax and his charm started to come out.” At this point, he had known he was starting to ramble. He knew it could be risky for him to spill his feelings so obviously, but perhaps if he kept his face neutral, made sure his tone was even—something he was much better at than the boy whose heart is in his hands—then perhaps it would be okay. “His teeth are so even, so when he was telling the camera his superpower and showing them off, it was so ravishing that I picked him.” Okay. That was definitely way too much to say. He at least managed to say it neutrally enough that the PDs behind the camera didn’t notice anything off. His rambling made it into the final cut of the episode, interspersed with cuts of Jinsik’s gorgeous smile highlighted by some ridiculous glitter filter. Thank fuck he at least kept it together externally in front of the cameras. Sumin still remembers what it was like to actually watch Jinsik grin like that in person; his eyes helplessly drawn to the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth while he stuttered and reset his mouth before retaking yet another line, grinning all the while. Once he noticed, he couldn’t stop. It was killing him.
“—and I just think I would like it?"
Sumin's doing an awful job at sounding sure of himself. Jinsik seems to agree, staring up at him like he's sprouted a tail. He drops Sumin's gaze after a moment. Sumin opens his mouth to explain further or drop the subject only to find all his words stolen from him at the sight of Jinsik lowering his hands.
Jinsik's tongue traces his teeth, slow and unsure. He gently bites down once he reaches his canine, its sharp point sinking into his flesh. Sumin's throat goes dry. Jinsik winces in pain, shutting his mouth and staring up at Sumin like he's been handed a gun and told to shoot. He doesn't let the eye contact waver this time, so Sumin knows it's serious.
"You won't hurt me, jagi. Your tongue is more sensitive than—" Sumin clears his throat to brace himself. "—I dunno, my neck." Fuck. Still stumbled. Jinsik drops his gaze, staring down at the coffee table instead. He seems to be fighting with himself over Sumin's suggestion. Sumin gives him another to alleviate his worry and fill the silence between them—not like they'd been especially loud before, he hopes. "I won't force you if you don't want to do it. You do know that applies to everything I ask you, right? If you say no, I won't be mad."
Jinsik nods slowly, his resolve finally returning to his eyes when he locks them with Sumin's again. He takes Sumin's hand, those pretty fingers wrapping around his wrist and bringing it up to his face. Sumin doesn't pull away, half suspecting Jinsik's intentions. As predicted, he presses his kiss-red lips to Sumin's fingers. Then, as not predicted, he parts them to place the first two fingertips between his teeth—not biting down yet, just holding them there. He hasn't taken his eyes off Sumin's for this entire exchange. The contrast between Jinsik's shy doe eyes asking him for permission and the blunt presence of his teeth already on Sumin's skin is so much hotter than he ever would have imagined.
"Yeah," Sumin chokes out, "go ahead." The words are thick in his throat and he's only half aware that they've even gotten out of him. Is this how Jinsik feels when he gets tongue-tied?
He doesn't have any time to contemplate the question before Jinsik's biting down; slowly at first, an almost imperceptible pressure that quickly blooms into twin pinpricks of pleasure-pain once he applies some real force into it. Sumin just barely bites down the whine bubbling up in his throat, but can't hide the shiver that rattles down his entire body. Jinsik releases him almost immediately, his eyes darting about in panic. Sumin rushes to reassure him.
"It's okay, I'm okay! It doesn't hurt," he soothes. "You can do it harder, I like it." His face burns with the admission, but it's not like he was lying. Jinsik raises his eyebrow, taking Sumin up on the challenge.
This time, he takes Sumin's fingers down to the second knuckle, parting them with his tongue until they're both directly between his teeth. He gives less warning and more force this time, emboldened by his first success.
Sumin can't hide his moan this time, slapping his free hand over his mouth to at least muffle the sound. Something darkens in Jinsik's eyes, reminiscent of the devil that Sumin sometimes sees while watching his fancams. He loosens his hold for just a second to let Sumin recover before closing his jaws around him again—the hardest bite yet. This one has Sumin slumping against the couch, weak with the want that's been burning in his stomach.
"What the fuck? " Hyunwoo's voice sounds from behind them. The combined force of Sumin and Jinsik's flinching nearly sends Sumin tumbling to the floor, saved only by Jinsik's arm around his waist.
"Can you not sneak up on me like that—" Sumin hisses, whipping around to glare at Hyunwoo. He hides his hand—his first two fingers slightly slick with spit—as quickly as he can, but the damage has been done.
"Can you not do that? At least not on the couch that we have to share?" Hyunwoo retorts. "You know what, I don't even want to know what you guys were doing, if you're not gonna stop, just take it to a room!" he storms off before Sumin can snap back at him. It doesn't stop Sumin from hissing a: "We weren't planning to do anything, but fine!" after him under his breath. He turns back to face Jinsik after a moment, somewhat shaky now that the adrenaline rush—both from being bitten and from getting caught—is starting to wear off. Jinsik gladly welcomes him back into his arms to hide. There's a slight shifting of Jinsik taking his phone back out of his pocket, and he taps Sumin's shoulder shortly after.
"Doesn't him leaving sort of defeat the point of us getting a room?" Sumin barks out a laugh upon reading Jinsik's message. Jinsik whines in complaint, lightly smacking Sumin's arm with his phone.
"Ah, sorry, I wasn't laughing at you," Sumin placates. He presses a kiss to Jinsik's cheek in apology, Jinsik melting against him in acceptance. "You're right, but we should probably move anyway. Now that Hyunwoo's home, we'll probably have more interruptions if we stay out here." Sumin is loath to leave the warmth of Jinsik's embrace, but he forces himself up and off the couch. "Do you want to keep going? We don't have to, I'll get back to work if you don't." Jinsik accepts the hand that Sumin holds out to help him up, although he just clings to Sumin in favour of going anywhere else. Sumin makes a questioning noise, unsure of whether he should leave Jinsik be or drag him to his room. He'd be lying if he said he didn't prefer the latter over the former, but he'd rather let Jinsik control the pace of their relationship.
"My room is farther from the others, let's go there," Jinsik's next message says, followed by: "I don't want to stop." The heat in Sumin's stomach—that had been significantly dampened by Hyunwoo's return—comes roaring back to life as he reads it.
All the words that he could say in response get caught in his throat at once, so he leans in to kiss Jinsik instead. Jinsik is quick to reciprocate, pulling him in by the waist and swiping his tongue over Sumin's lips.
Oh. He's eager.
Sumin's knees nearly give out on him at the realization, held up only by Jinsik's hold on him. They should probably get to Jinsik's room, fast.
"Mmh—jagi, come on," Sumin manages to stammer in between kisses. "Let's get to your room before someone else walks in." Jinsik growls against him in complaint, but he eventually relents, pulling back for just long enough to drag Sumin to his room and close the door behind them. As soon as the door clicks shut, Jinsik is back on him, all but tackling him onto his bed—thank god he's on the bottom bunk—and crashing their lips together again.
Sumin easily melts under him, pliant and weak for his enthusiasm. Jinsik has always thrown his all into expressing his feelings; crying when he's sad, laughing when he's happy—Sumin has yet to see what would happen if he gets angry, but just the thought of it sends a thrill down his spine like no other. This, though... Jinsik kisses him like he wants to eat him alive, all teeth and tongue that burns his desire into Sumin's very soul.
Jinsik wants him.
The realization has Sumin muffling a moan into Jinsik's mouth, blindly grasping at his cardigan to ground himself. Jinsik huffs a laugh against his lips, sultry and self-satisfied. He must be on a mission to single-handedly kill Sumin today. He guides Sumin a little farther up the bed to settle in next to him, breaking the kiss to slip the cardigan off. Sumin chokes on his own breath.
"Uh," he stammers. Perfectly articulate! Okay, can he really be blamed for losing his grasp on language at the sight of his boyfriend's arms? First of all, Jinsik is his boyfriend , second, he may not be as big of a gym rat as Minjae-hyung or Hunter but his arms are fucking nice . Third of all, Jinsik is kissing him again, so he has no need for words now, anyway. Jinsik keeps it relatively chaste this time, leaving Sumin to catch his breath while he leaves a line of kisses down his jaw leading down to his neck. Ah, right. He'd mentioned that earlier. Jinsik mouths over Sumin's pulse point, most likely able to feel his heart pounding through the sensitive skin there. Sumin digs his hand into the sheets, too shy to reach out and grab for Jinsik's waist despite their proximity. He's burning up, he realizes.
"Jagi—ah—hold on," Sumin groans, his speech slurred by the heat under his collar and Jinsik's ministrations. Jinsik immediately pulls back, his eyes shining with muted concern. It does little to mask how his pupils are blown wide open, something dark burning behind them that has Sumin biting back a whimper. He pulls himself together just enough to strip himself of his hoodie; the material much too thick and heat-trapping for what he's doing. Besides, he wants to feel Jinsik's touch. "Sorry, got too hot," he mutters, tossing it somewhere across the room.
Jinsik stares at him with nothing short of hunger . He still has a t-shirt on—they both do—but Jinsik's gaze is so intense that it feels like he can see straight through it; past his skin right to his jackhammering heart. Suddenly shy under Jinsik's scrutiny, Sumin crosses his arms over his chest, digging his fingers into his arms to hide his self-consciousness.
"What? My body isn't that built, is it?" he asks. He gives Jinsik a hopefully lighthearted smile, his eyes dropping away from Jinsik's eyes; down to his flushed cheeks, his kiss-swollen lips parted to reveal those fucking perfect teeth, the bob of his Adam's apple, the pretty jut of his collarbones. No matter where he looks, he can still feel Jinsik's gaze raking up and down his body like a floodlight.
Is this why Jinsik avoids eye contact all the time? He'd once told Sumin that it feels too personal, too searching when other people look him in the eye. Sumin is sure that had been true, but perhaps Jinsik had also been protecting everyone else from himself. If he feels like this just from Jinsik looking at his body, surely he would combust if their eyes meet. He manages to hide his eyes until Jinsik reaches out for him again, grasping his hand and gently pulling it away from where he had been digging his nails into his arm. He hadn't even noticed the pain until it was gone. He lets his other arm drop, forcing the tension to bleed out from his shoulders so Jinsik knows he still has a green light.
"Sumin," Jinsik sighs, his voice low and ever so slightly rough from disuse. Sumin's eyes snap back up to meet his; if he's speaking again, it's serious. Jinsik's eyes are fathomlessly deep pools of love and desire, flecks of concern flashing within the depths. Sumin's breath is punched from his chest. "You're beautiful. It doesn't matter how built your body is, I still want it."
Sumin chokes on his own breath. Jinsik does too, if the panicked tongue-tied noises that accompany Sumin's wheezing have anything to show for it.
"I mean—not like that, I didn't—yes like that but—" Jinsik's half-sentence ends in a whine that he muffles into his free hand. Sumin lets out a flustered laugh, squeezing Jinsik's hand in reassurance.
"It's okay, I get what you mean. Do you want to keep going?" Sumin asks, his smile coming naturally now that some of the tension between them has dissolved. "You don't have to say it out loud, just kiss me if you do."
Jinsik wastes no time in diving right back in, twisting his hand so he can entwine his fingers with Sumin's as their lips meet. He's smiling against Sumin's lips, kissing him with a familiar spark behind it that has Sumin's heart swooping. He's grown more daring with this latest break, his free hand seeking out Sumin's and guiding it to his own waist. Sumin flails for half a second until Jinsik's tongue returns and he's gladly digging his fingers into that soft warmth. He's tempted to dip his hand under the fabric between him and Jinsik's skin, feel the way his muscles tense under him, maybe dig his nails in and leave marks somewhere the stylists won't see. He refrains. Better to let Jinsik make the first move on that front.
As if on cue, Jinsik's free hand slips under his shirt—not far, just his fingertips skimming over the jut of his hip. Sumin still feels sparks from his touch. Jinsik starts to pull back—most likely to check if that's okay with him—and Sumin surges up to reconnect them. This is more than okay with him, Jinsik could do pretty much whatever he wanted and Sumin would let him.
"Please," he whispers, in case Jinsik needs more clarity. Jinsik grins at him, somehow adorable and absolutely wicked at the same time. He gestures for Sumin to wait, pushing himself up to the headboard and propping himself up with his pillow. Heat rushes to Sumin's face. He can't possibly mean—! All of Sumin's thoughts fracture into nothing when Jinsik makes a "come hither" movement with his fingers. That has absolutely no right to be as hot as it is! Sumin bites back a fucking mewl as he crawls into Jinsik's lap, heat pooling honey-slow in his stomach. He settles a safe distance from Jinsik—close enough to not risk falling off, but still far enough for some breathing room just in case—hyper aware of how his legs are bracketing Jinsik's hips.
Contrasting Sumin's expectations, Jinsik doesn't immediately start digging into him. He's slow instead, almost reverent in the way he slides his hands up Sumin's thighs and up his shirt. Sumin lets out a shaky sigh as those pretty hands skirt over his hips, one hand settling at his waist and the other continuing up to his chest until he can trace the scars there. He's painfully gentle, glancing up into Sumin's eyes as his fingers follow the lines left by Sumin's surgeon.
Jinsik tilts his head up at him. He already knows about this aspect of Sumin's life, but they've never really gone into extensive detail about it. Sumin can see the questions drifting about in the sea of love that are Jinsik's eyes. Is it okay to touch you here? Did it hurt? What was it like, having to deal with this before? Sumin only nods to answer the first, the rest can come later.
"Come here, jagi," Sumin murmurs. "Don't be shy." He drapes his arms around Jinsik's neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. He sort of wants to take it off him, expose the unmarred skin underneath and ravage him until he's fully marked up as his and only his. He refrains, though. He'll wait for Jinsik to let him first, and he has plenty of patience.
Jinsik, ever the sweet boyfriend, pulls Sumin into a hug. He sighs against the crook of Sumin's neck, soft lips brushing over his throat. Sumin shivers under him, yet again reminded of the sharp teeth hidden behind that softness.
"Love you," Jinsik whispers, and then he's pressing a kiss to Sumin's pulse point and sinking those teeth in.
"Ah—!" Sumin's gasp is far too loud for the space they're in; although it's not like he's in any state to care. He tangles his fingers into Jinsik's hair to hold him there, even when it starts to hurt. Jinsik releases him right when it's at the edge of too much, lapping his tongue over the bite like some kind of beast. Sumin keens, tilting his head to give Jinsik better access.
Jinsik practically purrs , kissing and biting his way down Sumin's neck until he's filling the room with his gasps and bitten-off moans. He soothes every bite with his tongue, the hand on Sumin's waist tracing patterns into his skin to ground him as he squirms.
"Love you," Jinsik whispers after a particularly hard bite. "Love you so much."
The hand that had been tracing his scars comes to rest over Sumin's heart, perhaps the only thing keeping it from beating out of his chest. Sumin would let him take it out of its cage any day, hold him while it bleeds and beats just for him. A year earlier, he would have been scared to be so completely at Jinsik's mercy; now it just thrills him all the more. Jinsik is good to him—too good, sometimes—he can handle a little pain.
"I love you too," Sumin sighs. "More than I can ever say." Jinsik makes a soft noise of dissent. He takes his hand out from under Sumin's shirt to press a finger to his lips. Sumin understands it perfectly: "Don't say it, then. Just show me."
He does exactly that, entwining his hand with Jinsik's and kissing him hard. Jinsik hums appreciatively against his lips, opening up to his mercy. Sumin nearly nicks his tongue against Jinsik's teeth, drawing a low moan from his boyfriend.
Oh. So this is how he had been feeling.
Sumin's world tints pink upon this first taste of control; he'd very much like to drown in it now that he knows the hold he has over Jinsik. He hardly lets himself up to breathe, diving in deeper every time he returns. With the way he now leans over Jinsik, he's forced to guide his hands to his hips to avoid hurting Jinsik's wrist; he has to dig his fingers in to ground himself at some points. Sumin hopes they leave bruises.
He shifts a little so he can return the favour, bracing Jinsik's neck with one hand while the other snakes up the side of Jinsik's shirt. He openly moans into Jinsik's mouth when he reaches the dip of his waist, toned and irresistible. He's going to have a hard time keeping his hands off once tonight is over. Jinsik shivers, ticklish under his touch. Sumin itches to dig his nails in. Would Jinsik like it as much as he likes Jinsik's grip on his hips? Would he squirm away from his hand, breaking the kiss to laugh? He lightly scratches down Jinsik's waist, just to test the waters.
Jinsik jolts at the contact, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Sumin's halfway to pulling back to ask if he's okay until Jinsik's squeezing his hips so hard they definitely bruise. The noise he makes is so desperate that there's no way that Sumin could possibly misinterpret it—especially not when accompanied by the pleading look in those dewy eyes.
"Do you like that, jagi?" he coos, even though he already knows the answer. Jinsik nods so hard that he nearly clocks Sumin in the jaw if not for his quick reflexes. He presses quick, insistent kisses all along Sumin's jaw; his form of begging when he isn't in the mood to speak. Fuck, he's so cute. Sumin obliges before Jinsik can start whining, leaning down to claim his lips and his waist this time. The kiss starts off gentle, a stark contrast to the blunt scrape of his nails in Jinsik's skin.
It's hard not to be a little rough from then onward. Jinsik's reactions are intoxicating; arching into Sumin's touch the harder and higher up his chest that he scratches, moaning into Sumin's mouth until he's sucking on Sumin's tongue to muffle himself. Sumin feels fucking feral. The heat that had been smoldering in his stomach has long blazed into something out of control, throbbing dully deep inside him to the beat of his racing heart. Jinsik is just as hot—both figuratively and literally—but it doesn't stop Sumin from pulling himself ever closer into his lap. He wants to be closer, wants to feel him until just touching isn't enough, until there's nothing between them and—
Oh.
Oh.
Jinsik pulls back with a yelp, his entire body snapping taut like a puppet's. It takes half a second for him to regain control of his hands; another hand second for him to start pushing Sumin away. The sharp knife of alarm is quick to cut through Sumin's haze of arousal, though the whiplash in mood has him a little sluggish.
He scrambles to get off Jinsik's lap, his legs tangling with themselves and tripping him so he falls somewhere farther down the mattress. He shakes himself back to a state of semi-clarity, his chest heaving to catch his breath.
"Jagiya? You okay?" he asks. Sure the sudden rejection may sting a little, but something had clearly spooked Jinsik; his comfort is more important than Sumin's libido—he has his hands and a toy for that.
Jinsik makes a whine of distress, patting at the sheets in search of his phone. His eyes dart every which way, so quickly that Sumin feels dizzy just looking at him. He's still panting heavily—which would be incredibly hot in any other context than this clear panic. Sumin's stomach drops in dread. What had he done? What can he do?
"Jinsik, please breathe," Sumin murmurs shakily. "I'm not upset. You know that I'm not upset, right?" He rushes to reassure him, though there isn't much he can do from here but hope that his words get through to him. Jinsik doesn't do well with being touched during an upcoming meltdown. Jinsik gives a somewhat absent nod, half-choking on his own breath. It at least forces him to slow down slightly, a drop of clarity returning to his eyes. "Looking for your phone?" Jinsik nods again, heaving one last painful breath before swallowing and forcing himself to steady his breathing. His hands tangle white-knuckled in the sheets, unsuccessful in their search. Sumin remembers it had been in his pocket; one glance at Jinsik's lap is enough to tell him it's still there. Something else is also quite prominent that hadn't been there before.
Sumin's face flushes a deep red, and he turns his head away so quickly that his neck cracks.
"It's, uh," he stammers, clearing his throat. "It's still in your pocket." He spots the cardigan that Jinsik had discarded earlier and blindly tosses it in his direction; a little cover so they can both have a little cover from the, uh, situation at hand.
There's a strained sort of hum of thanks from Jinsik, then the room falls silent save for the frantic tapping of Jinsik's fingers on his phone. Sumin uses the time to calm himself down and think of how to respond to whatever Jinsik has to say. Realistically, he should have known something like this would have happened. Sure they've made out before, but never this intensely—not to mention ever getting this close to going a step further. It's a natural progression for a relationship, but they need to talk about these kinds of things first. Even though they had fallen for each other at first sight, they still talked just as friends for months, then talked through every step of their relationship once they—and the rest of the group—were unable to ignore their feelings for each other. They'd had plenty of conversations about how to properly accommodate Jinsik—that also ended up helping the rest of the group as a whole—and perhaps they could have had a few more conversations about Sumin's body and what he could or couldn't do with the others, but this... This is a complete blind zone for them both. No wonder Jinsik had panicked so badly.
Jinsik growls in frustration from his place at the headboard. Sumin glances over at him—the cardigan is securely over his lap and concealing their main source of stress—and is met with the sight of him glaring at his own phone, erasing another message.
"Jagi," he calls out, softly enough to not startle him but firmly enough that Jinsik pauses his typing. "You don't have to be so stressed out. I'm not upset at you. It's only natural that you panicked, we didn't talk about this beforehand. I'm sorry for startling you." He makes his way back to Jinsik's side as he speaks, careful not to touch him. Jinsik sighs, some tension visibly bleeding from his shoulders as he types up one last line.
"M really sorry for freaking out it ws jst 2 much yeobo m sry :(" it says on one line. The next line under it reads: "I know ure not mad bt I still feel bad for it since u obviously rly liked it" . The third and final line reads: "Ye we def still need 2 talk bcus I rly don't think I'm ready to do that yet m sry :("
"Yah, stop apologizing!" Sumin chides out loud as he reads through them. Jinsik flinches, but he at least manages a weak smile. "It doesn't matter how much I liked it, now I'm just worried that I was pushing you. How were you feeling?" he asks. Normally, he would take Jinsik's phone to type that up himself, but his brain is going too fast for his fingers at the moment and he needs to let Jinsik know that none of this is his fault nor would Sumin ever hold this to him as fast as he can. Jinsik takes it well, typing out a new message in response.
"I liked it 2, if ure nervous abt scratching me u rly don't have 2 worry bcus I liked that the most" Jinsik hides his face with his free hand while he shows this one to Sumin, although Sumin can still see the blush creeping down his ears and neck. He breathes a sigh of relief; that had been exactly what he was worried about.
"That's good, because I liked doing it," Sumin admits, his voice fraying a little at the edges near the end. He clears his throat to try again. "I liked it when you bit me. I already thought I would, but having it actually happen was a totally different experience." Jinsik's breath hitches, and he yanks the phone back to type another line.
"How long were u thinking abt that?!" It's Sumin's turn to blush this time. Would it be too much to admit it?
"Since we were making those first short-forms with Young Prince for Let's Go Xikers," he mutters. Jinsik makes a strangled noise in response instead of typing out a message. "That's when I first noticed! Then I just couldn't un-notice, and then I would watch your fancams for fun and you were always grinning so widely and showing off your teeth, so I would start thinking, and then—" Sumin cuts off his own rambling with a muted scream that he muffles into his hands. The bed creaks with Jinsik's laughter next to him, so contagious that he can't help but laugh as well, slightly delirious from the emotional rollercoaster that he's just been through. "Ugh, don't get me started on it, I'll work myself up again..." he groans into his hands.
As much as he's tried to talk himself down—and this conversation has certainly helped—he's still running quite hot. He should probably leave if Jinsik is still overwhelmed; he knows Jinsik prefers company to help him calm down, but if he still wants him during this, it'll do no good. Jinsik taps his shoulder after a moment, a new message displayed on his phone.
"I don't mind that part.. I don't want u 2 leave, I jst don't want 2 do more than kiss" Jinsik takes the phone back before Sumin can respond, typing up an addition at lightning speed. “As long as that's ok with u? If u want to leave I won't stop u bt I want u to stay" Sumin's heart melts at the sight.
"Of course I'll stay," he says with a smile. "I'm tired after all that anyway, I won't go as far if we keep going." Jinsik hums in contentment and pockets his phone to pull him into his arms. Sumin easily goes along with his embrace, guiding them down so they're lying down properly. He rests his head on Jinsik's chest, lulled by his heartbeat. It's still faster than usual, but at least not pounding hard enough to cause concern. Jinsik's hand comes up to play with his hair, gentle fingers undoing the knots that had been woven into it by their earlier action. Sumin all but purrs. He brings his own hand up to trace mindless patterns over Jinsik's chest that eventually morph into a repeating "I love you."
It doesn't take long for Jinsik to notice, and then he's smiling and pulling Sumin up to kiss him again. It's tender this time, still relatively heated but free of the urgency of all their previous kisses. Sumin sighs against him. He already sort of is, but still; he could get used to this.
There's a knock on the door before he can, though. They both freeze, staring at each other in mutual dread. If anyone else walks in on them like this, they'll never hear the end of it!
"Jinsik-hyung? Are you sleeping?" Yujun's voice sounds faintly from behind the door. They let out a sigh of relief in unison; Yujun will at least wait for a response before coming in.
"Yes, you were until he knocked," Sumin whispers, tugging the blankets out from under himself and tossing them over both their bodies. "Just roll with it. If he asks, I'm still sleeping." Jinsik nods, pulling out his phone to type out a message for Yujun. Sumin spots him saving his previous messages to him in another folder before opening up a new one before he's rolling over and shutting his eyes. If he can't help but smile in his pretend sleep, that's only for him to know.
===
Yujun can faintly hear a vaguely awake noise from behind Jinsik's closed door. He knocks again, just to be sure.
"Hyung? Can I come in?" he asks. Jinsik gives an approving hum, and he cracks the door open.
Jinsik's lying propped up on one arm, his phone held out in one hand with a message for Yujun to read. Next to him, Sumin is fast asleep.
"Sry, out of words today. We were just taking a nap, what's happening?" Yujun makes a little "ah" in understanding upon reading Jinsik's message. Everyone's been tired while preparing for this comeback, he doesn't blame him or Sumin for wanting a little more rest.
"It's dinnertime, Junmin-hyung bought takeout." Jinsik nods, pausing to glance over at Sumin before typing out his next message. Yujun's heart squeezes in envy. His hyungs are so cute together, when can he have something like that?
"We'll b right out, let me jst wake up Sleeping Beauty and we'll b right there" Yujun fake gags at how sappy his hyung is. Jinsik huffs out a laugh and halfheartedly swipes at him, but Yujun is quick to dodge.
"Couples," he mutters under his breath. "I'll let the others know you're coming, take your time!" he says as he steps out.
He closes the door behind him, and five minutes later his hyungs are trudging out of Jinsik's room looking at least vaguely put together for a couple of people waking up from an afternoon nap.
"Oh my GOD," Hyunwoo shrieks when the two sit down. "I knew you two were fucking!" Everyone else chokes except Junghoon, unbothered as always.
"Language!" Minjae and Junmin hiss in unison over Yechan's hysterical laughter.
"We were not ," Sumin growls, death glaring Hyunwoo so hard that Hunter half hides behind Seeun. Jinsik is fighting himself to form words properly, frantically tapping at his phone for a response. Yujun blinks in confusion.
"Yeah, they were asleep!" he cuts in. Then he catches sight of Sumin's neck. One side is entirely covered with marks, varying shades of pink blooming across his skin.
Description: On the way home after their SpoTV interview, Jinsik has something to get off his chest to tell his dear sweetheart. Now, if only his brain and body could cooperate with him to articulate it...
Thankfully Sumin is willing to do the cooperation for both of them.
(Read on AO3)
"Why did you do that?" Jinsik whines. It's been hours since Sumin had damn near aired out their entire relationship to their whole fanbase. Perhaps he—and the rest of the group—have forgotten about it by now, but it had been pinballing in Jinsik's head since the praise first left Sumin's lips.
"Do what?" As predicted, Sumin is completely oblivious to what he does to Jinsik. It's a wonder how he can't feel Jinsik's heart hammering from where his head rests on Jinsik's shoulder. Jinsik's arm is wrapped around him, an unintentional mirror to how they had been before. The only difference is that there are no cameras this time, no one focused on them in this company van where the others are either asleep or have earbuds in. Here, they can be sweeter on each other.
"The—" Jinsik's throat closes on its own accord. He makes an indignant noise in lieu of finishing his sentence, digging his fingers into Sumin's shoulder; their little signal when Jinsik has something to say but can't bring himself to speak. Sumin gives a questioning hum. A quick glance into his eyes shows some muted concern, though he doesn't push Jinsik for an answer. He's always so patient even when Jinsik is having trouble putting up with himself, so understanding when Jinsik is so overwhelmed he can do nothing but cry. Since when has he gotten so lucky?
"Did I do something wrong, jagi?" Sumin starts to pull away from Jinsik, drawing back to get a better look at him. Jinsik curses at himself for his inability to communicate properly while worked up. He shakes his head, pulling Sumin back down into his arms. His weight comforts him enough that he can try again, huffing a deep breath against Sumin's hair.
"Earlier, when you were..." he flails for the words to finish his sentence, all his thoughts flying past in flashes. "Praising me. I-I mean, we were supposed to be doing a compliment relay, but you were still so..." He shrugs. "Open about it. You sounded like you really loved me."
"I do!" Sumin barrels on before Jinsik can get on him about people potentially hearing and their careers being on the line. "I wouldn't say those things if I didn't mean them. That would be cruel to you." His tone softens when Minjae gives them a funny look, both to soothe their leader's worries and to keep their secrets private. "Times have changed, we don't have to worry about that kind of thing anymore. Roady are very accepting, did you know that? They'll have our backs."
"Okay," Jinsik relents. "Just... I don't know, warn me next time? You surprised me, I would have actually responded properly if I knew you were going to say all that." He chews at the inside of his lip, a habit that he doesn't notice until Sumin pokes his cheek.
"Oh, jagi. Are you embarrassed because you got too flustered to say anything to me?" Sumin chases Jinsik's eyes until they meet, Jinsik catching a glimpse of a bright smile before he looks away again.
"Maybe," Jinsik mutters. "It's not that I don't like it, I just... I need time to prepare a response." He squeezes Sumin's shoulder again, his thoughts too frazzled to put them into words. Sumin hums in understanding. He taps at the notes on his phone, falling silent in solidarity with Jinsik going nonverbal. That's another thing that he loves about Sumin; he never holds any expectations for Jinsik to run himself ragged running at his speed. He slows down to Jinsik's level.
"I'm glad you told me, I'll keep that in mind <3" Sumin holds up his phone to Jinsik, the cursor blinking on another line for Jinsik's response.
"Ily :( You're too sweet to me" Jinsik types out with his free hand, holding it within Sumin's view. After a moment, he adds; "Kiss me?"
Sumin huffs out a laugh upon reading it. Instead of typing out a reply when Jinsik hands his phone back to him, he pockets it and pulls Jinsik in.
Mirage of a Desert Rose (Untouchable, but Smells So Sweet
Rated: M
Warning(s): Suggestive
Description: Lee Eunsang has never had the best luck with love. His heart ached all through Produce X 101, and now a certain Myung Eunho is leading him through a desert of confusion and longing only to vanish as soon as Eunsang wants to talk about his feelings. That is, until the night Eunho decides to approach him first…
(Read on Ao3)
Eunsang leans against the kitchen counter, softly sipping at his tea. The dorm is quiet, the other members deciding to stay at their own dorns tonight and Sion having gone to bed nearly an hour ago. Eunsang is content to bask in the silence—a welcome change from the bustle and noise of the day. As much as he loves being an idol, the job still tires him out even on his best days sometimes. Then again, hearing Youniz’s cheers and seeing how his members light up upon hearing them… Just the memory of their smiles is enough to make him almost completely forget his exhaustion. One smile in particular stands out in his memory, for no particular reason other than his fondness towards the person it belongs to.
He hasn’t had much time to talk to Eunho about their relationship. They—and the rest of the group, really—both know that what they have crosses well over the line of mere co-leaders and close friends. Eunsang tries to tell himself that he doesn’t mind the ambiguity and would prefer things to just progress naturally without any big announcements, but he knows in his heart that it isn’t true. Perhaps Eunho would, but if the way his eyes drop to Eunsang’s lips when he thinks he won’t notice and the way his hands always linger whenever they make any sort of contact, that’s doubtful. Those actions themselves don’t offer much in terms of clarity, but surely if Eunho wanted to let their relationship go wherever they take it, he would have made a move and taken it somewhere by now, right?
Eunsang sighs into his now-empty cup. He shouldn’t try to get his hopes too high again. His luck with love has never been the best, with him losing to someone else not once, but twice; once during Produce X 101, and another in the short-lived flight that was X1. He’s mostly over them both by now, but some memories still make his heart ache.
His phone lights up with a text right as he’s putting his cup away in the sink. Upon checking who it is, all his previous melancholy melts away.
Little Demon hyung
Are you still awake? I have something for you
Eunsang’s heart stutters once the last sentence processes in his mind. What could that mean, exactly? He had just been telling himself not to hope for too much, yet he still finds those familiar wings starting to flutter in his chest again. He types out a reply and sends it before he can start to overthink.
Eunsang
Yes, I’m still up! What is it?
Before his message has even been read, Eunsang is already rushing to his room to get changed into something a little more presentable. He and Eunho have already caught little glimpses of each other in their less-than-flattering moments without any issue, but there’s something different about tonight that makes him really want to make an impression. He’s gone through two different pairs of pants, three different jackets, and is in the middle of deciding whether or not to put on his favourite rose perfume when Eunho’s reply comes in.
Little Demon hyung
It’s a surprise. Meet me behind the dorms ;)
Eunsang has to bite his lip to contain his excitement. Eunho has always been the more direct one between them, but this is on a whole other level! It’s settled, he has to put the perfume on now.
After five minutes of checking and rechecking himself in the mirror and sneaking down the long way to make sure he isn’t seen, Eunsang opens the back door of the dorm building to see Eunho leaning against the wall. It seems like he and Eunsang had the same idea to get dolled up a little. From here, Eunsang can see a silver chain in Eunho’s hair glinting in the light of the streetlamp shining down into the alley. He remembers telling Eunho that he liked it while on set for Bad Cupid, and then being confused at the scheming smile Eunho had given him in return. Now he understands. Little devil. Then again, Eunsang isn't innocent of stealing from sets either. This jacket is from his Kcon Mirage stage.
"Good evening, handsome. Come here often?" Eunho asks upon catching his eye.
"It's almost one in the morning," Eunsang replies, determined not to let his racing heart show. Eunho is always this flirty behind closed doors, especially towards Eunsang. Still, he can't help but be wary. Does he really mean it or is this just his way of bonding as a group? He pushes those thoughts away for later. "What do you have for me?"
"Still a surprise." Eunsang has gotten close enough that Eunho has to look up at him now, that ever-so-charming smile never wavering even as Eunsang's shadow falls over him. He flicks a hand up between them before their proximity can get suffocating, something jangling around his fingers. Keys.
"You stole the manager's van? Where are we going, should I be worried for myself?" Despite his words, Eunsang isn’t worried at all. Eunho has always been safe for him.
“I got my brother to leave his car here for us, we won’t go anywhere sketchy with it.” Eunho pulls Eunsang down by the back of the neck, close enough that he can feel Eunho’s lips brushing against his ear. “The managers don’t know anything~”
Eunho steps away before Eunsang's nerves can crash on him, keys jangling at his side. They had been so close… Dazed, he can only follow Eunho to the car, silently agonizing over what might have happened if he had turned his head just so… God, he wants to kiss Eunho so badly. Would he give in under his lips, soft and pliant? Would he take charge, rough and demanding? He nearly hits his head on the roof of the car getting in—would have if it weren’t for Eunho’s hand cushioning the blow.
“Careful, Sangie. I wouldn't want you to get hurt on our first date."
First date?!
Eunho closes the door behind him right as his words process in Eunsang's head. He only has seconds before Eunho gets to the other side of the car and gets in, what should he say to him when he does?!
By the time Eunho has gotten in and started the car, Eunsang has exactly nothing. What can he say, when the one he’s been pining over since their debut together has pretty much confirmed that he returns his affection? Still, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up…
“I can hear you thinking from here. What’s on your mind?”
Eunho’s voice calls him back out of his head. They’re on the road now (was Eunsang really zoned out for that long!?), soft yellow streetlights passing by in pleasant smudges of colour. It’s hard to get a proper look at Eunho’s face as he drives them through the city, light and shadow forming an effective mask for him. Would now be a good time to tell him? Eunho’s tone had been light, but the atmosphere in the car is strangely heavy this time, confusion and something else hanging above their heads, just out of sight. Eunsang decides to skirt around it for now.
“Lots of things. Nothing important enough to really talk about though.” A half-lie. His feelings for Eunho threaten to tear themselves through his chest and out his throat, kept down only by his confusion and past experience.
“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” There’s that tone again, that sweet and soft tone that Eunsang has only ever heard directed towards him. He resolutely stares out the window. They both know that if Eunsang looks at him now, he’ll break.
“I’m sure. Besides, you seem to have more on your mind than me if you’re sneaking me out of the dorms this late at night.” Eunsang dares to glance at Eunho’s reflection in the window and catches only the furrow of his brow before his gaze is back on the road. Had he been frustrated? Worried, perhaps? Eunsang forces himself not to think about it too much. His mind instead wanders to the words they had exchanged before taking off. Eunho has something for him, something that they have to leave the dorms for. Something not even the managers can know about, because it’s a surprise for their first date. Eunho could have been joking, of course, but if he hadn’t been…
It’s not much of a secret among the group that they both like men. Eunsang doesn’t remember who brought it up or why, but everyone had already clocked him by the time the company had put him with them. He wasn’t exactly as subtle as he thought he was on Produce X 101, after all. Everyone had been okay with it, thankfully. He remembers Eunho’s gaze lingering on him while the other asked him questions, and Eunho talking to him in private once that conversation had moved on. He remembers asking Eunho which way he swings, just because it felt natural to ask. Eunho’s response had been just as forward as he always is.
“Haven’t had much time to really explore. Not just girls though, I know that much.”
While that had comforted Eunsang greatly, that still raised more questions. Would he ever have a chance? Considering his track record with love, surely not…
“You’re right.” Eunho speaks again, sudden but slowly. “There’s something I want to tell you that only you can know. Nowhere in the dorms seemed like the right place, so.” Eunho shrugs. “I found a spot.”
Eunsang startles slightly when Eunho pulls the car over. He hadn’t even noticed that they had left the city, now stopping at a viewpoint on the side of a hill far above it. The lights below form urban constellations, their glow shining up to illuminate the clouds above. For just a moment, Eunsang’s worries are taken away by the view.
Rain starts tapping insistently on the roof and windows as soon as Eunho parks the car. Unfazed, Eunho just turns on the radio to drown it out. He plugs the aux into his phone, and Eunsang would recognize the sound of glass clinking to cue in those synths anywhere.
"Mirage? You like my songs that much?" He can’t help the teasing smile that spreads across his face as his debut b-side starts playing, smooth and sensual. “Is this your way of telling me you’re my fan?” Eunsang’s voice is light, as is his expression when he turns to look Eunho in the eye. Much to his surprise, none of that teasing is reflected in the older man’s eyes, only an almost solemn stare. Fear shines in those pretty eyes, contrasting greatly to the set of his jaw. “... Hyung?”
Eunho heaves a short sigh, resigning himself to whatever he’s about to say. A dark part of Eunsang’s mind is reminded of a scene in a book he had read as a child, one where the main character had confessed a secret that sentenced them to death. The name of the book has long since left his memory, but those few pages had stuck. Something in the way Eunho resolutely keeps their eyes locked together and reaches for his hand makes him feel as if he’s reliving that scene—this time as the executioner.
“It’s more than just me being your fan, Eunsang. I think you know by now that I’ve fallen for you, right?”
The confession doesn’t crash over Eunsang in a great wave, instead hitting him gradually, drop by drop like the rain on the car roof.
“I didn’t.” Eunsang takes Eunho’s hand, a little too tightly like he’ll disappear if Eunsang lets go. “All this time, I thought I was the only one who wanted more…” The weight of his own emotions prove too much for the clouds of his confusion, and they come in a torrential downpour as the words leave his mouth. His parched heart almost wants to reject him, not yet acclimated to the flood of reciprocated feelings. “Please don’t play with me, I can’t take it if you do,” he says instead. He hates how much his voice shakes on those words, how delicate he still is after he thought he had fully recovered.
“I promise you, I’m not.” Eunho reaches up with his free hand to wipe Eunsang’s tears away, tears Eunsang hadn’t even noticed had spilled from his eyes. “Let hyung prove it to you, yeah? Don’t cry, come here.” Weak to Eunho’s warmth, Eunsang melts into his touch. They’re so close now, both leaning over the gearshift just inches apart.
“Can I kiss you?” Eunho asks, at the same time Eunsang whispers: “Please kiss me.”
Eunho meets him first, pulling Eunsang in until they meet. He’s heartbreakingly tender, kissing Eunsang as if he’ll break. Eunsang is the opposite, the rush of his feelings flooding out of him and onto Eunho’s lips. He takes it in stride, tangling his free hand in Eunsang’s hair to pull him closer. Up until a few minutes ago, this had been something Eunsang thought would be forever out of his reach, but now that he has it, has Eunho, all he wants is more, more, more.
All too soon, Eunsang has to pull away for air. How cruel of the universe, to give him the need to love this deeply yet deny his body the ability to do so properly. He wants to entwine their very souls, to be embraced by Eunho so tightly that he can no longer tell where he ends and Eunho begins, oh he wants. His whimper when Eunho pulls away is utterly broken, something that Eunho rushes to soothe with another kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not going far,” Eunho assures him. “Move your seat back a little, I’m coming over to that side.” Eunsang obeys almost numbly, only half aware of what he’s doing. His craving for Eunho’s touch encompasses his entire being, and he feels himself starting to shake apart while Eunho crawls over the gearshift to settle onto his lap.
“Hyung, can I… Touch you?” Eunsang asks, perfectly in time with his own voice playing from the radio. (“Looks like I can almost grab it”) His hands hover over Eunho’s body, so desperately craving the warmth that’s so close to him. Eunho huffs out a fond sigh, guiding Eunsang’s hands around his shoulders.
“Why do you think I came over to this side, silly?” Eunho murmurs in the minute space between them. “We’ve held back for long enough. This is real, Sangie.” He cups Eunsang’s face—not to pull him in, just to ground him—and waits for him to make the first move this time.
Eunsang closes the distance between them without a second thought, determined to kiss all his love into Eunho until it’s imbedded in his skin. Eunho matches his fervor easily, slotting against him like he was meant to be there.
It gets far too hot far too quickly for Eunsang’s liking, the thrum of his desire fogging up the windows and suffocating him until he has to shrug off his jacket. Eunho unbuttons the top half of his shirt to match him before diving right back in, drawing a moan from Eunsang that matches his voice playing from the speakers. He had always known he can sound sexy, but with the way Eunho’s body shivers with every little whine that leaves his lips, he truly understands.
“Fuck, Eunsang, I almost want to bite you,” Eunho groans against his neck. Eunsang nearly mewls at the confession.
“What’s stopping you?”
“Schedules.”
Ah, right. That pesky little thing called a career that looms over them both, that inevitably will call them back home to more endless practices and shows that cut into the time they can spend truly together… Eunsang has half a mind to tell Eunho to just do it anyway, schedules be damned. Thankfully, he still has enough of a head to resist.
“I know a better mark for us,” Eunsang whispers, kiss-swollen lips barely brushing against Eunho’s ear. “Since it’s so hot, my perfume has probably gotten on you. You’re going to smell like me until tomorrow night~” Eunho’s next breath is shaky against Eunsang’s neck, and his pupils are blown wide when he pulls back to kiss Eunsang again.
“I like that. You’re making me yours,” he murmurs between kisses. Eunsang can’t help but smile against his lips, eagerly drinking in his desire.
“And the others won’t know a thing,” Eunsang adds. He knows exactly how much to put on so that only those who get very close to him will smell it. For this, for him to be the only one to know that Eunho carries his scent… His head starts to spin, his blood rushing down to somewhere else at the thought. Something dangerous rears its head deep inside Eunsang, a deep-seated hunger starting to take root within his body. It would be too much for tonight, no matter how much he wants, so they should probably—
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” Eunho moans against his lips. Much to Eunsang’s simultaneous dismay and relief, he pushes himself away, keeping his hand on Eunsang’s chest to reinforce their distance. “I almost forgot this is my brother’s car, what have you done to me?”
Right, that too.
“We can do more back home, let’s hurry,” Eunsang whines, pouting up at Eunho. He looks so good looming over him like this, a great contrast to their usual dynamic. Eunsang craves him.
“We should be resting at home,” Eunho chides. “Tomorrow is going to be busy.” He glances behind himself at the car's dashboard for the time, Eunsang following his gaze. 3:25 AM. Eunho's birthday, Eunsang's lovesick mind supplies.
“I don’t care about tomorrow, I want you now.” Eunsang punctuates his words by running his hand up Eunho’s shirt. Deep down, he knows Eunho is right. He had already been tired when Eunho first messaged him, and now that the heat of his kisses is dissipating, exhaustion has come creeping in to replace his desire.
“You have me now,” Eunho assures. “Now and forever.” Forever… That sounds nice. Eunsang gives in, letting Eunho go with one last deep kiss.
The drive back home is a bit of a blur, the only clear memories being Eunho’s hand on his thigh and his own singing lulling him to sleep.
When he wakes the next morning, there are three texts from Eunho waiting for him.
Little Demon hyung
Last night was way hotter than I thought
Hyunseung thinks I borrowed your perfume, the scent is so strong
Little does he know ;)
Eunsang can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. Perhaps they’ll tell the members eventually, but for now… This love will be their sweet little secret.
Description: Minhyuk is just an ordinary human, his boyfriend Sanha is a very extraordinary fae. With things being the way they are between humans and faeries, Minhyuk has to take certain precautions to make sure Sanha is someone he can trust. But one day, Sanha suggests a date in Faequelt, the faery world. It's a risky move, seeing as Minhyuk doesn't yet have Sanha's blessing and Sanha doesn't yet have Minhyuk's name. It could be dangerous. Then again, Minhyuk has never been able to resist Sanha.
(Read on Ao3)
Minhyuk likes to think of himself as a fairly normal person. Dark brown hair that isn't too long or too short, unassuming dark eyes that are often turned to the ground, a short stature that would make him easy to lose in the crowded streets of London. He'd guess he's a lot more muscular than most people assume, toned from his hobby of dancing, but that's probably the only thing that stands out about him.
Then again, normal people don't tend to be able to see things like faeries or other supernatural creatures like he can. It's not as much of an adventure as the children's books he grew up on make it out to be, which he's grateful for. All he wants to do with the Fae is to be with his beloved Sanha, a young soon-to-be noble among the Spring Court.
Sanha is everything Minhyuk isn't; tall, bright-eyed, outgoing, optimistic, and just a little naive. Even their appearances are wildly different; Sanha with his shining silver eyes, soft lavender hair, and almost feminine features. He seems almost delicate compared to Minhyuk who looks a little more than rough in comparison. Honestly, Minhyuk doesn't know what Sanha sees in him to make him stay, but he'll be damned if he says he isn't grateful.
One day when Minhyuk is visiting Sanha by the edge of the woods, the faery makes a suggestion that takes him by surprise.
"My flower, won't you come to Faequelt with me? Just this once? I do love you so, but coming here to see you this early in the season is draining me."
Indeed, winter has yet to release its hold on the land; Minhyuk isn't sure how Sanha even got here without alerting the malicious Winter Court. As much as he wishes he could say yes, he is still suspicious. Sanha is still a faery after all and could be trying to trick Minhyuk for the purpose of killing or enslaving him. The thought of it breaks his heart, but he has to stay vigilant. He may be in love with Sanha, but he still doesn't know if he can truly trust him.
Sensing Minhyuk's hesitation, Sanha pouts, his eyes sparkling as he gives Minhyuk those puppy eyes that he's never been able to resist.
"Please? You know I love you, I'll keep you safe." Sanha pleads; and like a fool, Minhyuk relents.
Faequelt is like nothing Minhyuk has ever seen before. A forest bursting with color and life even in the dead of winter, the flowers themselves seem to sing. Some of them actually do, echoing Sanha's angelic voice in a hypnotic choir of voices like crystals. Sanha takes Minhyuk in his arms, swinging him around in a slow dance through the trees, and he is so mesmerized that he fails to notice as the colors begin to fade away and the music slows to a stop. Sanha smiles at him, and Minhyuk's world goes spinning out of focus. Strange, it looked like Sanha had grown fangs for a split second there. No matter, he is still breathtakingly beautiful- literally this time, it would seem. Minhyuk frowns as black spots begin to swim in his vision. He wants to keep losing himself in those bright silver eyes. So, so pretty. He faintly registers that they've stopped dancing, but his head is still spinning as if he's been out of breath and dancing for hours. Sanha must be more energetic than he thought. The faery holds out a hand to him, which he gratefully takes.
"My poor flower, you must be exhausted. I can help, if only you give me your name," Sanha says. His name? What would Sanha need Minhyuk's name for? Oh, right. He doesn't even know it. Names have power here, that's why Minhyuk told Sanha to call him Rocky when they first met. Sanha had never listened, but he didn't mind. He has never been able to resist Sanha anyway, so he could do whatever he pleases.
"My name... My name is Minhyuk." He murmurs, trying to blink away the sparkling light around his and Sanha's joined hands.
"What a beautiful name. It's just like you. I'll cherish it forever," Sanha says, and Minhyuk's knees give out on him. Hearing such an ethereal being such as Sanha call him beautiful is a wonderful feeling; like he's floating on air.
"Sleep now, my Minhyuk. You need not to wake again." Sanha whispers, his lips brushing against Minhyuk's ear as he collapses against his chest. Minhyuk obeys, his eyes fluttering shut without protest.
Description: After mistaking someone else for his dear friend Byounggon one Pride evening, Yonghee makes it his mission to ensure that his new friend's first Pride goes well. As the night goes on, he never would have thought that their friend groups would intersect so deeply—how could he have known that Daehyeon's first love is a classmate of his boyfriend?
(Read on Ao3)
Yonghee checks his phone for the nth time this morning, having already been waiting for half an hour. Where could Byounggon be? His last message was from half an hour ago, just a plain “Blue hair, you can’t miss me”. There’s just one problem…
“Hyung, when you go to pride, everyone is going to have wild hair colours!” he types into the message bar, though he doesn’t hit send. Byounggon always gets a little nervous around crowds, that homebody. Yonghee had gotten here early anyway, he could afford some patience. He sighs and runs his hair through his freshly dyed purple hair, done with Hyunsuk’s help early in the morning today. Everyone will be so excited to see him, especially Jinyoung! Now, if only they could get here… He scans the crowd again, slower this time.
There, across the street, Yonghee finally spots him. Bright blue hair, plump, pouty lips, and a loose hoodie and sweatpants combo that should be entirely too hot for a Pride parade. Yonghee’s sprinting over before he can really think, too excited to start his day with his friends.
“Gonie-hyung!”
A little late, the person who is not Lee Byounggon turns around, and he only has time to choke out a startled yelp before Yonghee bowls him over. They go down quickly, and Yonghee can barely move his hands to protect the other man’s head before they’re hitting the ground.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else, are you okay?” Yonghee groans, gingerly untangling himself from this handsome stranger’s body.
“Yeah, m’just winded… Jeez, you’re strong,” the stranger wheezes. “Didn’t think my first Pride would already get this wild.” The last part is under his breath, meant only for himself, but Yonghee hears it anyway.
“It’s your first Pride?! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was—” Yonghee starts to ramble, but the stranger cuts him off before he can finish his apology.
“It’s fine, really! Honestly, this will just make it even more memorable,” he says with a shrug. “I hope you find who you’re looking for. Maybe he deserves to get knocked to the ground?” Yonghee takes a second to scream out his embarrassment into his hands before he can face this stranger again, something he smiles at as Yonghee helps him up. Well, at least someone’s having a decent time.
“He should be here soon, I got here early.” Still unable to meet this stranger’s eyes, Yonghee focuses on brushing himself off. While he does so, he can’t help but notice the other man’s lack of supplies—not even a water bottle. As much as he’d like to vanish off the face of the earth, Yonghee still has to ask. “Are you here with anyone?”
“Uhh, not really. I’m a bit of a loner, so I’m totally lost. I can find my way though,” the man says with a shrug. He seems to be about Yonghee’s age, maybe a little older, but he still worries. He had once been that person, totally lost and unsure of the new people around him, still scared to be rejected even though he was surrounded by kindred spirits. He had been lucky to encounter his friends—and current boyfriend—right around then, and since then had sworn to never let anyone else go through that.
“Are you sure? My friends and I are going to be around all day today, why don’t you stick with us? They won’t mind!” Yonghee gives a reassuring smile when he hesitates, clearly torn on whether or not to accept. “I totally get it if you don’t want to, you don’t have to!”
“Uh, sure, I’ll hang with you guys,” he says after a moment. “Thanks, uhhh…”
“Yonghee. Kim Yonghee. It’s nice to meet you, even if it was uh… Like this.” Yonghee extends a hand to the other man, though he can’t make eye contact in his returning embarrassment.
“It’s totally fine, please don’t worry about it! I'm Jang Daehyeon." Daehyeon shakes Yonghee's hand with a shy smile. "Oh, before I forget, how old are you? I’m twenty-five, I was born in ‘97.”
“Ah, I still feel bad…" Yonghee mutters under his breath, for his own ears only. "I’m twenty-two, born in 2000, so you’re my hyung. Unless you’d prefer to be called something else?” His heart starts to clench in apprehension. Even in a setting like this, people still tend to get more than a little weird towards him about this question.
“No, hyung is fine. I haven’t really explored my, uh, gender much, but so far, I’m just a bi man." Daehyeon's shrug is nonchalant, but his gaze is nervous when he makes eye contact with Yonghee again. "I recognize that flag on your cheek, and you called me “hyung”, so…” he trails off, obviously unsure of how to finish that sentence. Yonghee doesn't blame him, he hasn't been on T for long, but still passes so well without it that it would be hard for a stranger to tell which way he's going.
“Yep, I’m a man! I just haven’t been one for as long as you have.” Partly because of their age and partly because Yonghee hadn't figured out the source of that constant off feeling about himself until he was in tenth grade, though he decides against telling Daehyeon that.
“Still, it doesn't make you any less of one. Was—was that okay to say? I'm really sorry, I get the basics but I'm still new to this, I know I'm out of the loop and it's—” Daehyeon rambles on, completely oblivious to Yonghee's beaming. It's adorable to see, but Yonghee can tell he's actually stressed out, so he takes pity on him.
"It's okay, hyung, don't worry! I'm actually really happy to hear that, it's really refreshing compared to some of the other things I have to put up with…" His smile drops ever so slightly at the sour memories, but quickly pushes them away. No need to be reminded of that when he's out to be himself with his best friends and have a good time.
Daehyeon's eyebrows furrow in concern, but before he can say anything, a pair of strong arms wrap around Yonghee's waist and pull him against a broad, toned chest.
“Making new friends, Yonghee?”
“Jinyoung!” Yonghee squeals. All his brooding thoughts fly from his brain as soon as he registers the presence of his beloved boyfriend. Overcome with affection, he bumps his head against Jinyoung’s—much like a cat—in lieu of a “proper” greeting. “I did make a friend, he’s hanging out with us today!” There’s a beat of silence that Yonghee hadn’t expected, and he glances back at Daehyeon to see him and Jinyoung staring at each other with similar searching expressions.
“... Did you go to Produce High?” Daehyeon finally asks. The silence finally breaks, but the tension only mounts higher. It’s no secret that Jinyoung was popular in high school, but not all of it was positive. Yonghee hadn’t gone to the same school, so he has no idea what could have been between Daehyeon and Jinyoung.
“Yeah, I did. Do we know each other? I’m Bae Jinyoung.” Jinyoung’s voice sounds casual enough, but Yonghee can feel the way he tenses against him. Still, if Jinyoung doesn't recognize Daehyeon, there can’t be any bad blood between them, right?
“We do! It’s Jang Daehyeon, I was a few grades above you! Wow, I hardly recognize you, you were so shy back then!” Daehyeon exclaims, his face lighting up in recognition.
“Yeah, well, I guess I just learned how to be confident in who I am." Despite his words, Jinyoung still half-hides behind Yonghee, clutching him a little tighter like a teddy bear. "It's nice to see you again, hyung."
“Likewise.”
Before the silence can get awkward, three voices sound from not far off, rapidly growing closer.
“Hyung!!! Wait up!!!”
“Yongheeeeeeeee!”
“Guys, wait, I can’t run that fast!”
Yonghee turns around the best he can with Jinyoung still clinging to him to see the rest of their friend group sprinting over—one lagging behind the other two by a considerable amount.
“Sorry we’re late, Hyunsuk couldn’t decide on an outfit and parking was a nightmare,” Seunghun says, somehow not out of breath despite the obvious distance he’d just crossed at a dead sprint.
“We’re here though! Let’s get started!” Hyunsuk chirps, excitedly bouncing on his feet as if he were still a child and not a whole six foot man.
“Just hold on a bit, would you?!” Byounggon wheezes. He doubles over as soon as he stumbles to where the rest of them are standing, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “You guys are way too fast for me…”
Daehyeon shoots Yonghee a pointed glance upon seeing Byounggon and his bright blue hair, which matches his to the exact shade. Yonghee flushes and averts his gaze.
“I’m sorry, I just got excited!” Yonghee protests.
“If he wasn’t early, I wouldn’t have run into an old friend, anyway,” Jinyoung adds. Yonghee internally sighs in relief, having been drawing a total blank on how to introduce Daehyeon to his friends.
It turns out that there isn’t much introduction needed in the end, saving everyone from any awkwardness. Daehyeon just happens to be good friends with a classmate of Byounggon and Seunghun’s, Seokhwa, who in turn is also dating Hyunsuk’s boyfriend, Junseo. Daehyeon nearly has a heart attack upon learning this, until Hyunsuk clarifies that Junseo is polyamorous, and he’s fully aware of the other man. Along with him, Daehyeon also knows someone named Yoo Yongha. The name doesn’t ring a bell for Yonghee, but Jinyoung recognizes him as the person who has been in love with another classmate of his—the straightest man in Produce High, he had been called—for as long as anyone could remember. Yonghee doesn’t believe in any gods, but he still prays for Yongha.
In all the excitement of introducing Daehyeon to his friends, Yonghee finds himself slightly pushed aside. Truth be told, he’s more relieved than hurt, considering how the crowds around him were already overstimulating to begin with, and he really didn’t want to run out of energy keeping his silent promise to Daehyeon. He half-hides behind Jinyoung as they start walking in no particular direction, stimming as subtly as he can. He can feel Daehyeon’s eyes on him at a couple points, but pays it no mind. He’ll explain later, if he asks.
“Hold on, is that—”
“No. No way. Yongha!”
Seunghun and Jinyoung’s shouts snap Yonghee out of his thoughts. Following their shouts, he spots a fucking gorgeous punk decked out in spikes, studded leather, and a skirt headed their way. Snake bites flash in their ear-to-ear grin, and as they get closer, Yonghee spots the nonbinary flag painted on their cheek and a he/they pin on their jacket. The man beside them isn’t dressed nearly as flashily as the person Yonghee assumes to be Yongha, but his handsome, bunny-like face and the way his MISBHV shirt defines his chest and arms still draws just as much attention as his company.
“Daehyeon-hyung! You’ll never believe how this happened!” Yongha gushes, holding up their hand—which is entwined with the man next to him.
“Kim Yohan, at Pride with someone who isn’t a woman? The world must be ending!” Jinyoung crows at the same time.
“Well, it’s a bit of a long story…” Yohan says, flustered.
“We’ll be here for a while, we don’t mind listening!” Hyunsuk chirps. His tone is light, but Yonghee would recognize that protective gleam in his—and the rest of his friends’—eyes anywhere.
“Really? Perfect! We’ll tell you while we head to Twilight!” Yongha chirps, oblivious to the searching glares being directed at their boyfriend. Twilight… The name of that club brings back memories. Or rather, the lack of them… Last time Yonghee went there, he woke up draped across Hyunsuk’s couch with a stranger looking for Junseo. Now that Yonghee thinks of it, that might have been Junseo’s other boyfriend. Judging by the look on Daehyeon’s face, he must have had a similar experience.
“You’re taking him to Twilight on the first night of Pride? Oh Yohan, I hope you know what you’re getting into…” Daehyeon mutters under his breath.
“Of course I do, Twilight is really fun! One of my friends performs there every other week, I go whenever I can to hype him up. I think he’s doing a special today, actually,” Yohan says with a shrug, just as oblivious as Yongha to the shock of Yonghee and his friends. Only Jinyoung shows no sign of surprise, frantically tapping at his phone before showing it to Yohan.
“Does this happen to be him?”
“You know Donghan-hyung too?!” Yohan exclaims, his eyes lighting up in recognition. Yonghee and Daehyeon share an incredulous look. Just how much do their friend groups overlap?! Yonghee finds himself swept up in yet another web of overlapping conversations, all going entirely too quickly for him to keep up with. The only person who shares his silence is Daehyeon, though unlike Yonghee who simply prefers not to talk at the moment, Daehyeon seems like something is bothering him. He’s somewhat curled into himself, a faraway look in his eyes.
“You okay, hyung?” Yonghee asks, slowing down just a little so they fall into step together. “If Twilight would be too much, we can go somewhere else.” Daehyeon shakes his head.
“It’s fine, I like it there. I just…” Daehyeon drops his gaze to the table. “Do I still belong here? I mean, the rest of you already had yourselves figured out a long time ago, but I didn’t really embrace myself until a couple months ago, so I’m totally lost on how everything… Works? I-I don’t know, I don’t think I’m making any sense.”
Yonghee has to take a moment to plan his response. Daehyeon’s worries match his former ones almost exactly, so how would he like to be assured?
“What are you talking about? Of course you belong here,” Yonghee assures. “I didn’t even discover myself until like, six years ago. Most people like me know who they are since childhood, so I’m really late by comparison. Even then, there’s no such thing as “late” when it comes to accepting yourself.”
“I know, I just… It took me so long to get here, even after I knew who I was and accepted myself.” Daehyeon shrugs. “I guess I wanted to focus on my “actual” life first, before throwing myself into being all loud and proud like everyone else.” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Not that being loud and proud was a bad thing, I just… I don’t know. I guess I thought I wasn’t allowed to do that?”
Yonghee hums in understanding. “It’s fine, I see where you’re coming from. Still, that doesn’t make you any less deserving of a place here than us. Would you treat Yohan the way you’re treating yourself right now?”
“No, I would never!” Daehyeon exclaims. He continues in a lower voice. “Especially not now that I see how happy he makes Yongha. He’s a good person, I wouldn’t want to exclude him.”
“So why do you think you deserve it?”
For the first time tonight, Yonghee locks eyes with Daehyeon to prove his point.
“I… I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little hard on myself, or something…” Daehyeon meekly trails off, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. Cute.
“That’s understandable. Still, keep that in mind the next time you start thinking that you don’t deserve to be here, because you do!” Yonghee chirps,
“... Thanks, Yonghee. It really means a lot.”
A cacophony of squeals from Yonghee’s friends ahead of them draws their attention back to the group.
“You’re kidding! You just kissed them just like that?!” Hyunsuk exclaims.
“What else could I have done? It’s Yongha! ” Yohan fires back.
“Hold on, I think we missed a few chapters. How did you two get to that point?” Daehyeon asks, quickening his pace to catch up with the rest. Yonghee hangs back a little, content to just listen from the sidelines while holding Jinyoung’s hand. They’ve reached the line to get into Twilight by now, and thankfully they’re early enough that it isn't too long yet.
“So, as you know I was crushing on him like, forever, right?” Yongha asks. Daehyeon nods, and they continue. “Turns out that as soon as I came out, he started questioning stuff about himself—which is so unbelievable, since I didn’t even know he knew I existed?”
“How could I not know you existed?” Yohan whines, “You were like, the hottest person I had ever seen!”
“Still! Anyway, so we started talking because we have mutual friends, and I was going literally crazy because it’s him , you know?” Yongha gushes. Truth be told, Yonghee has no idea what he’s supposed to know here, but everyone else seems to understand just fine, so he keeps listening.
“I wanted to know more about you! And everything else, since being straight can really shield you from a lot of different perspectives…” Yohan trails off with a nervous laugh.
“Well, that’s fine, I really appreciate that you wanted to learn.” Yongha presses a kiss to Yohan’s cheek, bringing a pretty pink blush to his cheeks. “I think the real key was when I did your makeup before the rave we went to, though.”
Yohan flushes even deeper at Yongha’s words.
“Yeah… By then I was super attracted to them, but also a little confused? I mean, they’re not a man, so it’s not like I was gay ,—not that anything’s wrong with that—but that didn’t make me straight either, so I was just there letting them sit on my lap doing my makeup—”
“You were on his lap?! ” Daehyeon exclaims.
“Anywhere else would have been too far away! Can you blame me for wanting to be close to my crush!” Yongha whines defensively. “Besides, he already knew I liked him by then…” they mutter under their breath.
“Y-Yeah, that too. Anyway, I was trying not to have a crisis since I didn’t want to break their heart, and while this is happening, our friend is like, egging me to just give in and kiss them, which… I mean, yeah both of us wanted me to do it, I just didn’t want to do it without knowing exactly what was going on with us, if that makes sense?” Yongha nods in agreement to Yohan’s words, leaning into his side much like Yonghee is leaning against Jinyoung’s. Yonghee shares a knowing glance with them, and they flash him a smile before continuing Yohan’s train of thought.
“That’s when I figured he didn’t know that anyone could be attracted to me regardless of sexuality, since…” Yongha gestures to themself and shrugs. “As soon as I told him, he just went in, and now here we are!”
Yonghee’s heart warms at the sight of Daehyeon’s accepting smile.
“I’m really glad you two are happy together, Yongha. I can tell you treat each other well.” Perhaps Yonghee is reading too far into things, but does Daehyeon sound… Bitter? It’s subtle under his genuine happiness for the couple, so perhaps Yonghee could be imagining it. Still, he makes a note to check in on that once they get in.
The rest of the line breezes by within a few minutes, and they’re met with booming music as soon as they enter. Yonghee flinches a little at the sudden spike in volume, but he’s over it just as fast.
“Baby I see why the way I walk, you tryna find something to say~” A sultry voice rings out from the stage ahead of them.
“Oh. My. God.” Daehyeon whimpers from next to Yonghee.
“What, what?” Yonghee asks, craning his neck to see the latest performer. Yohan had mentioned an old friend of his would be performing tonight, and Jinyoung had also recognized him, but his name escapes Yonghee at the moment. Could this be him?
“There’s no way that’s Kim Donghan,” Daehyeon wheezes, blindly grabbing at Yonghee’s shoulder for support. That’s the name!
“Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?” Yonghee asks. Then again, Daehyeon could just be in shock and Yonghee could have misread. It’s hard to tell, sometimes.
“I mean, it’s not, but it kind of is. He was my bi awakening!” Daehyeon hisses. The crowd parts a little in front of Yonghee, leaving him a perfect view of the leather-clad man onstage throwing a wink in his and Daehyeon’s direction.
“Yonghee.”
“Yes, hyung?”
“I’m going to fucking die.”
As if to seal Daehyeon’s doom, Donghan starts strutting over, a sensual line about sugar canes and chains playing on his lips. Yonghee finds himself getting accosted from both sides; Daehyon locking his left arm in a vice grip and Jinyoung repeatedly smacking his right in excitement.
“Save me, Yonghee!” Daehyeon whimpers.
“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if there’s much I can do!” Yonghee is only half aware of the words leaving his mouth, dazed by the sheer intensity of Donghan’s gaze. He looks at his audience like he’s about to fucking eat them, something that Yonghee never thought he would be so into. Then again, Jinyoung looks at him the same way, when…
He’s jolted out of his thoughts by Daehyeon bolting off to the bar.
“Uh—Daehyeon and I will get our first round of drinks first! You guys go ahead and get good seats for us!” Yonghee blusters, barely staying long enough to process Jinyoung’s nod before he’s pushing through the crowd to get to Daehyeon.
"Hyung, wait up!" Yonghee calls over the music. He all but throws himself into the chair next to Daehyeon who's huddled at the far edge of the bar, staring down at it as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. "Are you okay?"
"No!" Daehyeon squeaks. "How am I supposed to face the only man I've loved since middle school after I haven't seen him in years and he's like this now?! Did he recognize me? I really hope he didn't recognize me, because if he did then he'll know it took me this long when he's always been like this and I never have and—"
"Whoa, hold on, breathe, breathe!" Yonghee cuts in as Daehyeon starts running out of air.
He had only managed to pick up about half of Daehyeon’s rambling, but from that, he had picked up most of the same concerns that he once had when he and Jinyoung had first reunited after high school. Yonghee faintly wonders if Daehyeon is himself from another timeline. The bartender slides a glass of water towards them, which Yonghee accepts on Daehyeon’s behalf.
“Drink up and run that by me again, hyung,” Yonghee murmurs, “slowly this time.”
Daehyeon downs half the glass in a single go, nearly choking on it in the process.
“So, we went to high school together,” Daehyeon groans. “We weren’t super close, but some of our friends knew each other and we would always be right on the edge of being friends, but not really, if that makes sense?”
"Okay, so you know him,” Yonghee says with a nod. “Judging by how he looked at us, he remembers you, right?" he asks.
"Yeah, and I was really stupid back in middle school and rejected him when he asked me out!" Daehyeon all but wails. "What is he going to think of me showing up like this now?!"
Yonghee blinks down at Daehyeon for a couple moments. It's obvious that a blunt reply won't help this situation at all, but he really has no other idea how to reply.
"... If it happened in middle school, I highly doubt he remembers that, hyung. Even then, feelings can still change after time!"
"I rejected him because I said I was straight , Yonghee!” Daehyeon wails. “What is he going to think now that I'm here? What if he thinks I'm just one of those shitty guys who likes to experiment and throw people away?"
"Well, are you?"
"No! He’s the only one I’ve had on my mind!"
“So what’s the problem?!” Yonghee exclaims, incredulous. “The only problem I can think about right now is that he might be taken, which. Well, yeah, okay, that’s a problem, but it wouldn’t be your fault like you’re making it out to be, right?”
Daehyeon muffles his sigh into his glass before chugging the rest. He doesn’t look back up at Yonghee when he sets it down again, staring down into the ice.
“It could be. From what I heard after I graduated, he really liked me. I already broke his heart once, I don’t want it to have been repaired only for me to show up and break it again. That’s why I was a little hesitant to come here when Yohan mentioned him, but honestly…” Yonghee leans in a little closer to hear him better over the music. “I also just really wanted to see him again.”
Yonghee’s heart aches on Daehyeon’s behalf. He remembers exactly how that had felt like.
“I don’t think you’ll believe me, but I was the same, sort of,” he starts, sliding his stool closer so he won’t have to shout. “I’ve loved Jinyoung since middle school, when I was a little girl and he was just coming to terms with being gay. I never told him I liked him back then, partly since I knew it wouldn’t work out and partly because we both moved schools before I had the chance. I was devastated, obviously, but in the time we were apart, I was able to really discover myself properly. He did, too. By the time we got to meet again, he had actually forgotten me. Made things slightly awkward because I was thinking of him through everything, but you know what? That had just made things better for us in the end.”
Daehyeon gapes at him. “How?!”
Yonghee can’t help but smile at the memory, lightly tracing his fingers along the patterns of the bartop. “If we had stayed in touch with each other between middle school and college, we both would have had more trouble figuring ourselves out. Back in middle school, I was the only girl Jinyoung would have ever considered marrying on the playground, and Jinyoung used to be the kind of boy that I wanted to be as well as just…” Yonghee shrugs. “Wanted in general, I guess. We still would have turned out fine in the end, but we also would have confused each other. Maybe you two have the same thing going on.”
Daehyeon sighs. “I wish it could be that easy. I mean, I’m sure you and Jinyoung didn’t have it easy, but with the way you say it, I just…” He absently swirls his half-melted ice around his glass. “I don’t know. He’s him, and I’m me. Even if he still sees it, I don’t know what he sees in me.”
“Let’s find out, then!” Yonghee chirps. Just then, his phone vibrates with two messages from Jinyoung and one from Yohan. The first from Jinyoung is a list of everything the group wants to drink, and the second is a “You’ve been there for a while. Is everything okay?” that warms his heart. Yohan’s message simply reads “Donghan-hyung’s single and looking for Daehyeon-hyung lol I think he’s going to have a heart attack.”
“Judging by the look on your face, you already have, haven’t you?” Daehyeon asks, an edge of defeat in his tone. Yonghee meets his somber face with a grin.
“Yep! And this will be good!”
A squabble over who pays for the first round and another glass of water for Daehyeon later, Yonghee and Daehyeon finally arrive at their friend’s table with the drinks.
“You’re just in time!” Yohan says to Daehyeon. “Donghan-hyung’s set is almost done!”
“I don’t think I can do this…” Daehyeon mutters under his breath.
“Yes you can! We’ll help you!” Yonghee nudges Jinyoung as he speaks, glancing first at Daehyeon, then at Donghan who’s still onstage. Jinyoung nods in understanding, and leans over to whisper something to Yohan.
“Yohan explained everything while you were gone, are we finally getting you and Donghan-hyung together?” Yongha asks Daehyeon, who freezes like a deer in the headlights.
“Yep!” Yonghee says before Daehyeon can finish flailing for an answer. Right on time, Donghan’s last song ends with a flourish and thunderous cheers from nearly the entire club—however none are as loud as their table. Donghan throws another wink their way and immediately starts making his way over, much to Daehyeon’s dismay.
“Guys, you said you’d help, what do I do, he’s coming this way!” Daehyeon whimpers, half-hiding behind Yonghee. “I don’t want to mess this up!”
“You won’t, just be yourself!” Yongha assures.
“Love conquers all, doesn’t it?” Hyunsuk adds.
“Donghanie-hyung! Look who came to see you!” Yohan calls as soon as Donghan gets close enough. Before Daehyeon can hide, Jinyoung and Seunghun all but drag him up in front of Donghan.
“Uh. Hi, Donghan… It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Daehyeon stammers. In an instant, Donghan’s icy, wolfish eyes squish up with the force of his grin—a stark contrast to the man who was onstage not even a minute ago.
“Daehyeon-hyung! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!” Donghan gushes, pulling Daehyeon into a hug. “Can we talk? Just the two of us?” he asks as he pulls back. There’s a certain softness behind his tone when he speaks now, one meant only for Daehyeon to hear.
“What, and leave us all behind? That’s mean, hyung, I’ve missed you too!” Jinyoung whines, though his smile shows he means none of it.
“Don’t worry, you can still get a piece of me when I’m done with him!” Donghan says with a teasing grin. Even in the dim club lights, Yonghee can still see Daehyeon flushing red all the way down his neck as he and Donghan head off. He only gives one look back at Yonghee on his way, to which Yonghee flashes him an encouraging thumbs up. The last thing the group see of them before they disappear backstage is Daehyeon reaching out to take Donghan’s hand, and the entire table bursts into cheers.
“Finally!” Jinyoung crows. “What did you tell him? It must have been good to finally get him out of his shell.”
Yonghee shrugs. “He was just like how I used to be before I met you. I figured he could use some of the advice I learned from everyone else. I just hope it worked.”
The next morning, Yonghee wakes up on an unfamiliar couch, wrapped up in Jinyoung’s arms, to a flurry of half-coherent “thank you” messages from Daehyeon, whose number he doesn’t recall saving.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Cannibalism(?), Suggestive
Description: Junghwan only wants to find his friends after they ditch him without even taking him to the party they were supposed to go. He does find them, but also much more than he could have ever bargained for in the progress.
(Read on Ao3)
Honestly, there was no way that Junghwan could have predicted how tonight was going to go. Meeting Yedam and Doyoung at the edge of town for a party at some friend of a friend’s was supposed to be the plan, but he should have known that something was wrong when neither of them showed up to pick him up at 10:00 like they had planned. Doyoung, he could excuse, but Yedam? He was never late. Junghwan didn’t think much of it at first, scrolling through his phone until his parents leave, reassuring them that his friends are on their way.
By the time half an hour passes, Junghwan knows that something is wrong. Neither of his hyungs are answering their phones, and none of their other friends know where they are. Haruto-hyung had seen them heading through town earlier, but they had been going in the opposite direction of the party. Junghwan wracks his brain for a potential answer. There’s nothing in that direction of the woods other than an abandoned building that might have used to be a low-rise apartment or something, now known as a hotspot for teenagers to do… Whatever it is that teenagers sneak out to do. Junghwan, freshly fifteen, only has a vague idea of what his hyungs might be ditching him to do, and he decides that he wants nothing to do with it.
For some reason though, his entire being burns with curiosity. Sure, it might be wrong to intrude on their private time as a couple, but they do deserve it for ditching him. It’s not like there’s anything else he has planned for tonight, and he can still make it to the party tonight even if he goes over to sneak in on his hyungs… No, no, that’s not right. He isn’t interested in that, he never will be. So why…?
He tries his best to shake the sudden temptation out of his head. That place has gotten dangerous anyway. Every year, at least one person disappears or turns up dead around that area, and Junghwan has no intention of being the next. Then again, what if they’re next? He has to go now, if only to make sure they’ll be okay. What? No, they can handle themselves. Junghwan’s supposed to be having fun at the party, anyway.
He makes it three steps out the door before his resolve breaks. It doesn't matter how well they can handle themselves, he has to make sure they'll be okay—if only to soothe his own conscience. Damn his soft heart.
Despite the late hour, the streets are still decently populated and any silence is broken by the distant sound of conversation or a pet barking. For some reason, this doesn’t reassure Junghwan at all. He’s jumpy as he makes his way through town, flinching at every sound and scrambling to hide every time a car passes by.
It’s strange, really. He’s done his fair share of sneaking around in his life, but none have felt as high-stakes as this, like he’ll be killed if he’s caught. He’s never been one to have these kinds of thoughts. He nearly trips over himself to cram himself into an alley as he hears a car approaching from behind, pushing himself between the tight walls as if its shadows are pulling him in. Without meaning to, he lets a slightly deranged laugh escape his lips.
“Jeez, I must be possessed…” he mutters aloud.
Somewhere in the alley’s corner, something smiles as Junghwan slips out to continue his creep to his friends.
Junghwan finds his resolve starting to crack as he approaches the abandoned building that his friends are supposedly ditching him to be in. The light from the streetlight he stands under seems weaker than the rest, barely illuminating the outer walls. The forest beyond it shrouds it in darkness, and it gives Junghwan a distinct impression that it’ll swallow him whole if he goes in.
He’s just about to chicken out and run back home or to the party when he spots something that cements his feet to the floor—another shadow next to his. He knows damn well it can’t be his own shadow cast by a different light source, the next streetlight is too far away and this shadow is much more defined than his own—darker and sharper around the edges.
When he turns his head to look at it, it moves with him, but in the wrong direction.
A scream bubbles up in his throat and he clamps his hands over his mouth to stifle it. The other shadow follows.
He doesn't know how long he stands there, frozen in terror and starting at a fucking shadow , but his joints crack when he moves again, startled by a whisper.
Follow me.
No fucking way in hell.
Follow me.
Follow who, anyway? Junghwan just has to find out where that voice is coming from so he can go in the opposite direction.
Follow me.
Hold on. Did that other shadow just get bigger?
Follow me.
FUCK THAT.
Junghwan finally manages to snap out of his fear-induced paralysis when the shadow takes a step, and he bolts. His feet feel like they’re being yanked around by some invisible force though, and resisting the pull is like trying to pull them out of a block of concrete. He unwillingly runs himself straight into the building that he had been trying to avoid, his hand shooting out to pull the door open and slam it shut behind him before he can stop himself. He tries the door again as he catches his breath, but no matter what he tries, it won’t open despite the lack of a lock.
Well, shit.
He holds his breath to listen for anything else that might be following him or puppeteering him or whatever other weird possession straight from a fever dream that might happen, but there’s nothing except for faint voices coming from somewhere upstairs.
Could that be his hyungs?
Well, he’s past caring about that now. Something just possessed him out there, and if it isn’t his hyungs then he might as well be dead where he stands. Still, the temptation to find his way up to check if it’s them persists, like a serpent weaving its way in and out of his mind and whispering in his ear.
“Fuck it, let’s just go,” he mutters to himself, though he has a distinct feeling that he isn’t the only one who heard.
He creeps up the stairs, sticking as close as he can to the areas lit by the moon. After a few flights, he starts to pick up faint voices from a room in the distance. His heart starts to race as he gets closer, though he can’t think of any reason why. He should be relieved that he found his friends, because there’s no mistaking that laugh as Doyoung’s, but he only feels dread.
The whispers lead him straight to the end of the hall, and he debates bursting in with a few select words to have with them about leaving him behind to look for them at an old, dangerous, probably haunted hideout, but an invisible force yanks him into the room beside theirs instead.
His throat closes around his scream before it can escape him, and he spends a few moments trying to catch his breath in silence. When he regains his bearings, he notices a rather large split in the wall dividing the rooms that gives him a perfect view of his friends inside.
All his previous fear leaves his mind when he takes in the sight of Doyoung on Yedam's lap, wearing a skirt that looks to be tied on with some kind of sash.
Well.
He can't deny it looks good on him.
Yedam’s smiling at something Doyoung is whispering in his ear, a soft giggle leaving his lips that resonates eerily in the dead silence. He turns away from his boyfriend, playfully dodging what would have been a kiss to the cheek—a normal sight, if it weren’t for the way his grin glinted in the moonlight. Junghwan frowns—he’s seen Yedam smile like that a million different times at almost every hour, there’s no reason this should be any different.
Then again , maybe it is a little different this time, since he’s hiding behind a cracked wall in an abandoned building at the edge of town watching his hyungs flirt like some kind of creep. What had even possessed him to come, anyway? They’re the ones who had ditched him, and yet here he is, peering through the crack to see Doyoung squeezing Yedam’s exposed thigh through the hole high up in his ungodly ripped jeans and ghosting his lips over his neck—yeah, he should really get out of here before things get weird.
As quietly as he can, he gets up from his crouched position on the floor. He internally thanks his dancer’s joints for not cracking as he stands, not wanting to give away his presence and have to explain why he’s here to his two hyungs who are obviously here to do… Whatever it is that couples do in abandoned buildings on the edge of town. He really doesn’t want to know. Right as he tiptoes one step towards the empty doorway, a movement in the halls catches his eye. It's too dark for him to make anything out clearly, but it looks suspiciously like a human shadow. Is someone else here? Forcing himself to keep his breathing steady, he takes another step out. It was probably nothing.
Then again, "nothing" doesn't soundlessly dart down the hallways towards him at a speed too fast to be human. Startled, Junghwan stumbles backwards, nearly tripping into a crumbled section of the floor. The exposed rebar makes a traitorous creak as he steps on it, much too loud to be drowned out by the couple’s sweet nothings to each other in the next room. Frozen in place, Junghwan has a clear view through a wider gap in the wall right at eye level. He glances through it just to check if either of his hyungs had heard, though there's no way they hadn't.
Sure enough, he makes direct eye contact with Yedam. The older boy just stares up at him, grinning with that oddly wide smile. Perhaps it was the moonlight playing tricks on Junghwan's eyes, but had Yedam's teeth always been this sharp? And had he always had that many? He doesn't have any time to dwell on it as the silence stretches on, broken only by a low growl that Junghwan feels more than hears.
"I hear something.”
Doyoung sounds about as tense as Junghwan feels. What had any of them been thinking, coming out here in the middle of the night? Images from the past two years flash through his head—Hyunsuk-hyung and Jihoon-hyung’s closed-casket funerals, Mashiho-hyung’s broken and bloodied hand hanging out from under the sheet on the gurney, Yoshinori-hyung’s lifeless eyes during Junghwan’s last conversation with him… Whatever had gotten to those four is still around, and all three of them might be next.
"It's probably just a mouse," Yedam soothes. The older boy finally breaks eye contact with Junghwan to reassure his boyfriend, but Junghwan can’t find it in him to move. His fight or flight response is jammed on “freeze” instead, the cold grip of horror keeping his feet rooted to the floor.
"A mouse? I'd see them in this light!" Doyoung hisses—how he would manage that is beyond Junghwan, who can’t see anything beyond what the moonlight touches. Junghwan watches as he brushes aside Yedam’s hand on his cheek to survey the room and can’t help but notice his eyes shine strangely in the moonlight, just like a cat. Human eyes don’t do that. Junghwan must be hallucinating
"I only saw a shadow," Yedam murmurs, his soft smile morphing into another creepy grin as he locks Junghwan into another silent staring contest.
Speaking of shadows… Despite the way the moonlight falls over his face, Yedam doesn’t seem to cast one. The light bends around him, like some kind of constant 360 spotlight. Either Junghwan is going insane or something is very, very wrong. Junghwan’s chest starts to tighten up the longer he holds eye contact with what might not be his hyung, unable to move even while all his senses scream at him to run.
"I know there's someone there," Doyoung growls. His eyes flash again as his gaze sweeps the room again, bright silver in contrast to the almost pitch black that they were before. Another growl rumbles through the room and Junghwan wants to scream. Yes there is, something’s here and we all have to get out of here now!
If only he could, but his throat refuses to work under Yedam’s gaze, barely expanding enough to let him breathe. His hyung’s eyes pierce into his soul, rooting him in place and muzzling his screaming instincts, leaving a cold calm behind in their wake. Stay, they seem to say. No way, I’m leaving, Junghwan wants to respond, but his feet won’t move.
"Not as far as I'm aware,” Yedam lies, his gaze still rooting Junghwan in place.
"Why don't you believe me?" Doyoung huffs. Yedam holds eye contact for a second longer before turning back to Doyoung with a honeyed whisper of “It’s just the two of us.” It drips off his tongue straight onto Doyoung’s lips, and Junghwan pointedly looks away while he gets pulled in, no longer weighed down by any eye contact. He tries his best to tune out Doyoung’s muffled groan, beyond uncomfortable at the sound of his friends making out. The only good thing about the noise is that it disguises his slinking out of the room, pressing close to the wall. A few steps down the hall, he hears a soft “Maybe you’re right,” breathless and slightly muffled. Junghwan nearly sighs in relief.
"It's just another night," Yedam affirms, his voice so sweet that the hairs on the back of Junghwan’s neck stand up. Sure, there’s something off about both his hyungs tonight, but Doyoung’s weird eyes hadn’t given Junghwan the bone-deep chill that Yedam’s… everything had. He forces himself to keep moving, hyper aware of every sound that reaches his ears—which unfortunately includes Doyoung’s shaky sigh as Yedam presumably kisses his neck. He speeds up ever so slightly, which proves to be a mistake as his foot disturbes some crumbled bricks. He nearly stumbles again in his haste to duck out of sight, hiding behind a doorway across the hall.
"But I swear I heard a creak," Doyoung grumbles, though Junghwan can tell by his breathy tone that whatever Yedam is doing has softened his resolve. He cringes at the thought, he really doesn’t want to know what they could be doing.
"Just kiss me." Yedam’s purr only solidifies Junghwan’s thoughts further, and he slips from the room and continues down the hall. This time, he figures he’s far enough that he doesn’t have to hide until their sounds and just focuses on getting the hell out of dodge, until a loud creak and another set of footsteps catch his attention.
"I’ve always been paranoid, I can’t let something that I’ve heard go even if I can’t see it,” Doyoung mutters, mussed and restless as he storms out of the room. His hair is a mess and his now—unbuttoned shirt hangs off one shoulder, but for some reason he makes no move to fix anything, instead untucking it from his skirt and—Junghwan looks away before any more observations can be made. There aren’t many other places to hide, so Junghwan goes with his next best option: running a few steps down the stairwell and hoping that they don’t come any closer. From here, Junghwan has a clear-ish view of Doyoung’s shadow on the walls as he stalks from room to room.
"Why won’t you just listen to me? Just come back here.” Yedam’s footsteps join Doyoung’s, but there’s still no shadow. Junghwan holds his breath as they draw closer, directly to the stairwell instead of checking every room like Doyoung is. Yedam had been helping Junghwan hide earlier, so maybe he’ll cover for him again, at least long enough for him to get away...
… Until Yedam reaches the top of the stairwell, grinning down at Junghwan with nothing but malice in his eyes. “Wait—now I hear it~"
Run.
Junghwan doesn’t spare himself any other thoughts, doesn’t linger on how Yedam—still without a shadow—whispers the same word that blares in his mind like a goddamn siren at the exact moment it occurs to him, doesn’t notice the disembodied shadow flitting across the walls towards his own until it’s too late. A single missed step is all it takes. His ankle rolls, unable to take the harsh impact, and he slams into the railing. The only thing keeping him from tumbling backwards down the stairs is a tight grip on the back of his hoodie, pulling him up to his feet, then off the ground. He chokes and flails, lashing out in a blind panic at whatever’s holding him. His feet connect with nothing.
“I knew that sound meant someone was there. Did you really think the shadows could hide you from us?”
Junghwan barely recognizes the voice as Doyoung’s through his own panic. Even if his head had been clear, that guttural, hoarse growl is a far cry from his friend’s silvery tone. Yedam says nothing, just smiles serenely down at Junghwan and locks his jaw shut yet again. Then again, it’s not like he can be in the right mind to say anything as Doyoung shuffles into view.
The first thing that Junghwan notices is the way he’s shirtless and hunched over, bent almost double. His spine protrudes painfully far, almost splitting off from his body. His shoulders look tense, bunched up to his back and pulling his elbows against his sides. He sways as he approaches, as if it hurts to walk. As he gets closer, Junghwan starts to hear sickly wet cracks and pops every time Doyoung takes a step. What the hell had happened to his friend in those rooms? He had just been checking if someone was there—and there evidently had been, if he could walk in looking just fine and walk out looking like… This. How could they be so calm? Yedam still hasn’t said a word, just smiles down at Junghwan with those too-many teeth. Doyoung finally reaches Yedam’s side, and Junghwan nearly gags at the sight. His once-flowy skirt is soaked through with blood, dripping onto the floor at his feet. It sticks to his legs, which now bend at an angle that no human can achieve. It’s a miracle that Doyoung’s still standing, really, with the way his knees knock together while he stands on tiptoe. The stench of iron chokes Junghwan further, permeating every breath that gets past the collar of his hoodie digging into his throat.
“Is that Hwannie I see? How nice of you to invite him over for dinner~” Doyoung rasps. His mouth cracks in a twisted grin, so wide it tears his cheeks open. He barely flinches, even as more blood runs in rivulets down his face. Junghwan's legs no longer feel like his own, refusing to move no matter how much he wills them to.
"The shock is gonna wear off soon. Don't play with your food, babe," Yedam chides. Shock. Yeah, that would explain the ice creeping down his back and paralyzing his limbs one by one. Doyoung huffs, a rough, rattling sound, and Junghwan internally begs his legs to move.
“Come on, Damie, loosen up a little!” Doyoung whines, “let’s have some fun this time!” His fingers jerk and twitch as he speaks, another series of cracks ringing out through the abandoned hallways. Junghwan can’t even scream when Doyoung’s arms break themselves, bones piercing through his skin and contorting his hands almost beyond recognition. Junghwan’s gut twists violently at the sound. If his hands weren’t occupied with keeping himself from being strangled, he would be trying to claw the sound of squishing flesh out of his ears.
“Alright, if you insist,” Yedam sighs, that hopelessly endeared one that means he’s resigned himself to being his boyfriend’s keeper despite his best efforts.
Doyoung jerks upright like a puppet with its strings pulled taught, a garbed groan leaving his throat before his chest explodes outwards. All Junghwan can see is a mass of red, flesh and bone cracking and crunching as another pair of arms unfold from the space where his organs should be, ribs rearranging to accommodate the new pair of limbs. He collapses onto his knees, somehow catching the weight of his mangled upper body on twisted fingertips. His knuckles crack as his fingers dislocate and pop back into place, the entire structure of his hands rendered completely unrecognizable by the time it stops. At this point, they along with the extra limbs that had burst from his chest look like… paws. All over his exposed body, his skin splits open to make room for fluffy red fur, though Junghwan can’t quite tell if his fur is actually red or if it’s just stained with blood. His spine rips itself from his back, cracking down behind him like a whip and Junghwan realizes that it’s not his spine, it’s a fucking tail . It leaves a line of red splatters along the floor and ceiling, and a small, delirious part of Junghwan’s mind wonders how his hyung can handle this amount of blood loss.
Too late, it finally hits him that his friends never had to worry about whatever had been killing the others. His friends are what’s been killing the others.
Yedam reaches over and unties Doyoung’s skirt before Junghwan can think of looking away, and all hell breaks loose.
Junghwan hits the ground, his ankle smarting when he lands, and Doyoung—what used to be Doyoung—launches itself straight down the stairs at him, bloody jaws split into three. He ducks to avoid it and it flies over his head, crashing into the wall and sliding a good way down the stairs when it's momentum overtakes it.
"Dumbass," Yedam sighs, still somehow impossibly fond as if his boyfriend hadn't just turned into a monster and made an attempt on Junghwan's life. "Don't let your hunger get the best of you!"
He casually strides down the stairs, hands in his pockets as a twisted roar resounds from somewhere downstairs.
Junghwan tries to stammer out something, beg for his life, ask what the hell is going on, anything—but only a pathetic whimper escapes him.
"What's wrong, Hwannie? Not up for hide and seek? If you win, we'll leave you and the rest of the town alone~" Yedam singsongs. "I can't tell lies, you can trust me on this."
Despite his best attempts to resist, something takes a cold grip on Jungwhan's head and forces him to nod, jerky and unnatural.
Yedam's grin grows impossibly wider at the "response", holding up three fingers as he approaches Junghwan, slowly folding them back down as he speaks.
"You'd better hurry and hide, then. You've used up your head start."
Whatever force that had been holding Junghwan's feet to the ground finally releases him, and he takes off the right as Yedam swipes at the air where his head once was with viciously clawed hands.
Junghwan blindly flings himself down the stairs, his ankle screaming in pain with every step. The rough scrabbling of claws down the hall warns him of Doyoung's presence and he banks to the right as soon as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.
He isn't a second too soon, if the hot breath from Doyoung's three-sectioned jaw just missing his foot is anything to go by.
Sharp claws rake across his back a second later and he hits the ground hard, his entire body lighting up with pain. A large paw holds him down, claws piercing through his skin. To his surprise, Doyoung doesn’t kill him immediately. No, he reaches down and clamps his jaws around Jungwhan’s arm, rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth easily slicing through his flesh.
“Come on babe, you promised me the first bite!” Junghwan can barely hear Yedam over the sound of flesh tearing and his own screams. Doyoung stops to growl in the direction of the stairwell, a familiar low rumble that Jungwhan can feel more than hear. So, he’s been a dead man this whole time.
“Fine, fine. Go ahead, then,” Yedam grumbles, still as casual as ever as he steps down the stairs. He stops right next to Junghwan, kneeling down to meet Junghwan’s eye. The darkness around him seems to melt into him until they form the shadow that he should have. He smiles at Junghwan, his lips pulling back to reveal teeth that reach his ears. “Just be nice this time, make it quick.”
Junghwan’s scream dies in his throat with nowhere to go, his head crushed between Doyoung’s triple-hinged jaws.
Somewhere at the edge of town, two monsters have a feast. The more beastly of the two crunches through an unfortunate young human’s rib cage, brutally enough to crush the bones but delicately enough to leave the organs underneath relatively undamaged. It nudges the monster next to it, a more humanoid one that’s busy gleefully ripping through the human’s liver.
“Hmm?” the second monster asks. The beast gently paws aside the human’s lungs to reveal his heart, pushing it toward the monster, who coos and kisses the beast’s bloody muzzle.
“Thanks, babe.” The beast affectionately licks the monster’s face, it’s tongue curling around the monster’s jaw and leaving a mess of blood and drool. The monster only giggles and rips the human’s heart from his chest, taking half in one bite and offering the other half to the beast. It gladly snaps it up, blood dripping onto its red fur.
The beast stands up and shakes itself after a few moments of silence—broken only by the squelch of flesh tearing, spattering its companion and the walls and ceiling of the hallway it’s in with blood. It takes off down the hall without waiting for the monster, the front four of its six paws leaving bloody prints as it goes. It disappears within seconds, leaping through a broken window at the far end of the hall and retreating, unseen, into the surrounding forest.
The monster cradles its victim’s face for a moment, smooth fingertips leaving red streaks on his cheek as he stands up to leave. It finishes the last bite of his liver before he goes, calmly walking out in the same direction the beast went.
“Goodbye, Hwannie,” it whispers over its shoulder, “You tasted the best out of them all.”
Rated: M
Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Suicidal Ideation, Drink Spiking, Vomiting, Past Underage Smoking
Description: It's Jungwon's 39th 16th birthday, and he's had enough of this town. He's had enough of many things, actually. Enough fawning and fleeing from the werewolves that hound him and his coven, enough holding himself back from loving Jay, enough of getting treated like he's far younger than he actually is, enough being tame. He's set to pack up and leave tomorrow, and tonight's party will be his way of going out with a bang. One night to let loose all his inhibitions, take that final leap into Jay's arms, and feast.
(Read on Ao3)
Jungwon absently swings his feet around from where he’s seated at the bus stop, staring at the cracks in the pavement illuminated by a lone pale streetlight. Unlike the light, Jungwon isn’t alone; Jaeyun is standing next to the bench tapping away on his phone,most likely texting Sunghoon, and Heeseung is sitting next to him with an arm draped over Jungwon’s shoulders—a comforting weight with no warmth. There’s another boy a little further down the bench, decked out in fishnets and chains and spikes and a skirt that would get the girls at Jungwon’s school dress-coded within seconds. The contrast between him and Jungwon’s friends is almost comical—a punk rebel blasting metalcore through his headphones next to three class toppers in their clean-pressed uniforms—but Jungwon can tell by the card in the punk’s hand that they’re all heading to the same place.
“You’re invited to Yang Jungwon’s Bloody Birthday Party!” it says in blood-red ink, Sunghoon’s impeccable calligraphy perfectly tying together the gothic look that Jungwon had wanted. Honestly, it’s no surprise that someone like that would accept the invitation.
“Tonight’s your big night.” Heeseung’s voice pulls Jungwon out of his thoughts, soft and gentle. Jungwon shrugs.
“It’s just a birthday, hyung,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve had a lot already.”
“Yeah, but this is your sweet sixteenth! It’s a special birthday, aren’t you excited?” Heeseung asks. Jungwon decided not to bring up how Heeseung has been to a countless amount of Jungwon’s sixteenth birthdays already. Then again, this one is much more meaningful than the rest, considering the feast that’s being prepared for him back home. A familiar face comes to mind, blonde hair and red eyes reflecting the moonlight streaming through the window, white fangs glinting as an apple is offered to Jungwon. Tonight, he finally gets to take a bite.
“Well, I guess I’m a little excited…” Jungwon murmurs, ducking his head to hide his smile. As much as he tries to push it down, his anticipation still shows—something that Heeseung easily picks up on.
“Aii, it’s just because Jay is coming, isn’t it?” Heeseung teases. “I knew it!” Jungwon flushes a deep red—or at least, he would if he could—and swats at Heeseung’s arm.
“It’s not just for him!” he whines in complaint.
“Well, what else could it be?” Heeseung challenges. Jungwon opens his mouth to retort, but his traitorous mind blanks out on him. Before Heeseung can take advantage of his silence, a bright set of headlights comes into view. Saved by the bus.
“Come on, let’s not keep Prince Charming waiting,” Jaeyun teases as the doors open.
Thankfully, Heeseung drops the teasing when he steps onto the bus, his attention stolen by the punk as he walks past them to the back seats. Jungwon doesn’t even have to look at him to know that Heeseung is watching the way his skirt swishes with every step. Gross.
They start to move and Jungwon is jolted back to his own excitement, gradually building as first Jaeyun, then the punk, then Heeseung get off the bus, until it finally arrives at Jungwon’s stop and he’s nearly leaping out of his skin. He’s reckless now, barely giving himself time to thank the bus driver as he steps off before he’s gone in a rush of air and reappearing in front of his closet. His phone lights up with a text from Sunoo reminding him not to take too long, which Jungwon ignores. It’s much more fun to show up to your own party just a little fashionably late, anyway.
When Jay arrives at Jungwon’s house, the party has already started to gain momentum. He can smell it in the air, the adrenaline and anticipation of the entire student body and then some, all concentrated into the smoky halls of Jungwon’s mansion. He lingers outside the door for a moment, steeling his nerves. By force of habit, his hand drifts to his pocket where, decades ago, there would have been a pack of cigarettes. Now, he pulls out a lollipop, absentmindedly noting that it’s Jungwon’s favourite flavour, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth before stepping through the door.
The sight that greets him upon entering is expected, but the smell—smoke and sweat and alcohol with a slight trace of sex—sends him reeling. It’s almost exactly the same as his very first party, but then again his nose wasn’t this sensitive forty years ago. Focusing on the artificial cherry flavor in his mouth, he casually makes his way through the crowd, searching for the one familiar face that could make his still heart metaphorically race.
“Over here, Mr. Loverman,” a voice that isn’t his internal monologue calls in his head. For a split second, Jay sees himself from outside his own body, watching himself scan the halls from somewhere to his left.
The vision dissipates when he turns around to find Heeseung leaning against a pillar in the next room over, two fingers pressed to his forehead in what Jay calls the “mindfuck pose”.
“For the last time, quit calling it the mindfuck pose, pervert,” Heeseung growls with no venom as Jay approaches. Jay only grins in response, pulling Heeseung in for their usual handshake in lieu of an actual greeting.
“Where’s Wonie?” Jay asks as Heeseung slings an arm over his shoulder. He hopes he sounded casual, but judging by Heeseung’s smirk, he failed.
“Last I heard he was still getting ready, but that was about an hour ago,” Heeseung replies. “The others probably know—hey, Jakey!” he calls, waving to the Aussie in question.
“Yo, you made it!” Jake says with a grin. He taps Sunghoon to get his attention, and the two of them meet Heeseung and Jay in the center of the room.
“Of course he made it, Jungwon is the host!” Sunghoon teases, hiding behind Jake with a grin when Jay half-heartedly raises his fist.
“Speaking of Jungwon, Jay was wondering where he is,” Heeseung interjects, and because he’s a sadistic old fuck who delights in Jay’s embarrassment, he keeps going. “He just couldn’t get him off his mind, all he could think of was how our precious Wonie would dress up for such a special party since it’s the first day of his coming-of-age, and he just can’t wait until he can finally embrace him and sink his fangs straight into his neck and hear him cry out his name in ecstasy—”
“I’ve never thought that about him, shut up!” Jay exclaims, respecting his elders be damned. Then again, damn Heeseung too, for putting that image into his mind. He remembers walking in on Jungwon once while he was remembering an ex or something. That image of Jungwon—eyes closed, pretty hands wrapped around his neck where whoever it was used to leave love bites, lips parted in a soft sigh—once buried deep in Jay’s memory, resurfaces with a vengeance. Jay is quick to shove the memory down along with Heeseung’s head, ignoring his squawk of protest.
“Until now, now you’re totally thinking of him like that!” Jake adds fuel to the fire that is Jay’s crisis, spurred on by Sunghoon’s melodic laughter. Damn the both of them too. Jay gives up, there’s no winning with them—though he can at least take them down with him.
“Okay, I might be.. Forty years and I still have no control over this body’s hormones, I should be ashamed—but what does that say about you guys? You both have ninety-seven years on me and still fuck like horny teenaged bunnies!” Jay jabs. All he wants is to know where Jungwon is, how did it come to this?
“... If this is what I’m coming back to, I’m staying in the kitchen mixing drinks.”
A fifth voice joins the fray, flat and unimpressed. Sunoo doesn’t even spare Jay a greeting, the brat (but then again, he’s only ever nice to Riki).
“No, nope, we actually just wrapped up the dumb shit,” Jay cuts in, desperate to get back on track. “Have you seen Jungwon at all?” He opts to ignore the others’ snickering, he knows when he’s beaten.
“I know he’s done getting ready, I don’t know where he is now. Riki might be talking to him, I’m not sure,” Sunoo says with a shrug.
“Wasn’t Riki with you though?” Sunghoon asks.
“I sent him to get the cake ready, he knows where to find me,” Sunoo replies. As if on cue, Riki comes squeezing through the crowd, cake in hand (how he managed not to drop it is beyond Jay).
“Speak of the devil,” Jay mutters.
“Hey, if anyone here is gonna to be the devil, it’s Jungwon-hyung!” Riki protests. “All we have to do is light the candles and he’ll be summoned!” Upon closer inspection, the candles are arranged in a pentacle shape. Fitting.
“Let the summoning commence, then~” Jake singsongs, waving a hand over the candles. They light up with a flourish and Jungwon is beside them in a rush of air within seconds, the only thing preceding his arrival being a spark of light.
“Happy birthday!” the boys shout in unison. The smile it brings to Jungwon’s face is utterly devastating, and Jay’s glad that he no longer needs air or else it would have all been stolen from his lungs.
“Thank you all so much! This is my best birthday in a century,” Jungwon gushes, clasping his hands together in a way that’s frankly much too precious for a creature like him. The others coo and pinch his cheeks, a sight that Jay thinks he’ll never get sick of.
“Go on, blow out your candles! We have a whole night ahead of us!” Sunoo urges.
“Make a wish first, this one really counts!” Jake adds. Jungwon indulges him, closing his eyes for a moment for his wish. Jay can’t take his eyes off him, committing the sight of Jungwon’s dimples to the collection in his memory.
Jungwon’s eyes are sparkling when he opens them again, flicking up to meet Jay’s for a split second before he blows out his candles. The other boys cheer as the smoke curls up, the red of their hungry eyes shining faintly in the haze.
“Now, let the true party commence,” Jungwon murmurs, quiet words meant only for the seven of them to hear. The group dissipates into the crowd soon after, eager to have their fun. His gaze lingers on Jay now that the others are gone, but he turns to leave before Jay can say anything.
Jungwon is stopped by a strong arm around his waist, spinning him around and landing him in Jongseong’s embrace. He pretends to regain his bearings only to admire how Jongseong had dressed up for this party, eyes lingering on the way the stick of his cherry-flavored lollipop dangles from his lips. Tempting .
“Hey,” Jongseong’s voice interrupts him from entertaining the idea of stealing the lollipop from his mouth and swiping a taste from his tongue. “Wanna dance?”
Jungwon scoffs and turns his head away, a familiar game of push-and-pull they have been playing for over a decade. “How rude,” he huffs halfheartedly. “Have you not learned by now that I deserve to be courted by a proper gentleman?” His lips struggle not to pull into a grin at the resulting sigh from Jongseong, and he has to resist peeking to see his reaction. He hates to see Jongseong sad, but it’s still undeniably adorable when his face falls like a puppy that had just been denied treats (“I am not adorable! I’m 59 years old, for fuck’s sake!”) .
“Come on Wonie, we promised to drop the games after this party, didn’t we?” Jongseong whines. Jungwon stifles a giggle as Jongseong goes on. “I mean, unless you’re not ready, which I totally understand and respect, I mean, we’ve already been waiting for ten years, ten more is really nothing to me and I could probably work on becoming a better person for you in the meantime anyway…”
Jongseong’s voice fades into the music as he rambles, and Jungwon rolls his eyes with a smirk. Ten years, and you still treat me like I am something to be protected. Well…
Jungwon roughly fists his hands into Jongseong’s collar (more than likely leaving wrinkles that only he can get away with), pulling him so close that he could steal the lollipop straight from his mouth—which he saves for later.
“Have you forgotten that I am five hundred and seventy years older than you, Jongseong-ah? I have been through many a courtship during my lifetime and I would not have even considered your proposal had I not wanted to pursue another.” He holds Jongseong’s gaze with a black fervor unmatched by any of his previous lovers, one that easily swallows the red desire rising in the other vampire’s. “I am more than ready to be courted by you after tonight’s feast, so long as you are ready to take care of me for the time it takes for this body to catch up to yours. I will be weak and in need of someone strong to protect me.” He doesn’t miss the way his words—said in a tone that would be terribly inappropriate for a perceived sixteen-year-old—stir something like a wildfire in Jongseong’s eyes. He leans in to whisper in his ear before he speaks again, cold breath ghosting over an equally cold neck.
“I trust you, Park Jongseong.” He hammers his words in further by tilting his head just so and grazing his fangs along Jongseong’s pulse point as he pulls away. Nimble fingers pluck the lollipop from Jongseong’s slack jaw as Jungwon lets him go, and all of a sudden Jungwon is a few steps away, turning around to face Jongseong with the lollipop now in his mouth. “Have fun and feast well, my knight.”
Jay can only watch as Jungwon disappears into the crowd of partygoers, a dazed sigh leaving his lips.
What a man…
Sunoo huffs in exasperation as his hair gets ruffled by yet another gust of air. Shortly after Jungwon blew out his candles, Sunoo had returned to the kitchen to mix some more potent drinks now that the party can begin in full swing—but it’s a little hard to do that with an overexcited Riki teleporting all around him. He loves the boy, he really does, but Riki still manages to get on his last nerve at times.
“Riki darling, is there anything better you can do at the moment?” Sunoo asks through gritted teeth. He keeps his hands away from the glasses, fully aware that in the state he’s in, he would shatter them the instant his hand closed around one.
“Sorry, hyung…” Riki at least has the decency to look guilty, even though he doesn’t sound the part at all. “I’m just excited for this party, that’s all.”
“I can see that,” Sunoo says flatly, leveling Riki with a hard stare. Riki only grins down at him—and really, who wouldn’t at the sight of his cheeks squished in a pout and his hair in a wind-blown mat over his eyes. Sunoo fights the urge to walk around the counter and kiss him. “If you’re so excited, why don’t you go out and dance instead of staying here bothering me?” he suggests instead.
Riki makes a contemplative noise and Sunoo takes it as an opportunity to get back to work, unscrewing a bottle of gin for some depressive punk who’d been eyeing Heeseung since he had arrived. This is the third drink he’s poured for the already red-faced boy, and by now he’s not quite sure how to tell him that Heeseung doesn’t like alcohol with his meals or one night stands. Then again, he can also smell the misery off the punk amid the cloying scents of all the other partygoers, so he figures the punk could use a nice blackout, Heeseung or otherwise. It’s not like he’ll be waking up to face the consequences of it, anyway.
The last sentiment lingers in his head as he bites his wrist, sharp fangs easily slicing through his skin. Squeezing his hand into a fist, he counts one, two, three drops falling into the cup before his wound heals. It’s a little early in the night to be lacing drinks, but he would have to do it to everyone eventually. Might as well get a head start with the person who’d need the most.
“I want to dance, but I also want to learn to mix drinks like you can.” Riki’s voice drowns out the punk’s muttered thanks when Sunoo sets his gin on the serving window. Sunoo turns back to Riki with an eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“Really now? Do you really want to learn from me or do you just want to stare at me until I’m free? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for staring, I know I look good tonight,” Sunoo runs a hand through his hair as he speaks, not-so-subtly pulling at his shirt to show off a little more collarbone with his free hand.
“Uh—I mean—well,” Riki stumbles over his words, eyes lingering on Sunoo’s neck. They go a little hazy when Sunoo slips a finger under the thin choker around his throat to adjust it, reminding him of some of the old American cartoons that Jay grew up on where a character would literally melt at the sight of their love interest. Cute. “You—you do look lovely tonight, hyung…”
Sunoo’s fake-annoyed mask finally cracks upon hearing how dazed Riki is, his accent slipping through his attempt to stay cool. His sarcastic smile turns soft, and he quickly steps around the counter to press a kiss to Riki’s cheek.
"Thank you dear, you look handsome tonight as well," Sunoo giggles, reveling in the way his praise makes Riki’s knees nearly buckle. "I'm ready to dance, assuming your knees aren't too weak for you to sweep me off my feet?"
Riki perks back up in an instant, fangs on full display in a heart-shaped grin. “I’ll always sweep you off your feet, whether my knees are strong enough or not!” he singsongs, taking Sunoo’s hands in his own.
Before Sunoo can even process it, he’s colliding with Riki’s chest on the center of the dance floor. When he regains his footing and looks up at Riki, he’s giggling in that precious way reserved only for him and he’s dimly noting that Riki’s fangs shine under the scattered lights—much like diamonds and oh, he’s in love. Sure, this is Jungwon’s night, but this moment here, Riki effortlessly twirling him around to a disco track from Jaeyun’s pre-party playlist, belongs only to him.
Jake absentmindedly swirls his drink around in his glass, scanning the crowd of dancing partygoers for one familiar face. The heat from all these bodies is enough to make him feel warm to the touch and he’s just on the sidelines, so Sunghoon must feel utterly feverish , wherever he is. Jake makes a note to cool him down when he comes back, assuming the ice in his cup doesn’t melt by then. Two kinds of hunger tug at his gut, and he takes another sip of his drink to sate the less pressing one—if only for a moment. The other one only grows stronger as a couple decides to start making out right on the couch he’s leaning against, and he digs his nails into the back of it in his effort to tune them out. The action only reminds him of the previous night, Sunghoon underneath him, fangs in his neck, and nails tearing the sheets. He blinks the red out of his eyes before anyone can spot him. Sunghoon needs to come back soon, or there might be a problem.
“You good?” Jay’s voice next to him snaps him out of his reverie. Jake takes another sip to avoid answering, though that is enough of an answer for Jay.
“Unbelievable. Sunghoon leaves to talk to Wonie for five minutes and you’ve already got blue balls.”
“I will spit this on you,” Jake hisses into his cup, glaring over the rim at an utterly unrepentant Jay.
“Whoa, isn’t that a little un-gentlemanly of you? You’re fucking a prince, I’d expect a higher-class diss.” Jay grins down at Jake with something slightly unhinged in his eyes, and Jake suspects that his hunger is getting to him too.
“Oh I’m sorry, has't thee f'rgotten yond I hath lived out in the Australian wilds f'r almost fifteen years? And I only did get th're because I wast getting hath sent to a prison?” Jake amends in wildly exaggerated (and broken) Middle English. Jay howls with laughter, and Jake cracks as he continues, unable to keep up the act. (To be fair, it’s also been well over a hundred years since he last talked like that in a normal conversation, so forgive him for losing touch). “My dick may be in a prince but the rest is in the fucking gutters, bro.”
The two boys well and truly lose it then, laughing so loud that they get weird looks from nearby partygoers. The couple that had been previously taking up the couch get up and leave right in time for Jay to collapse onto it, wheezing incoherently.
That’s how Sunghoon finds them, nearly in tears over some of the most horrendous dick jokes known to man. He’s well past the phase of being flustered by such “low” humor, but hearing such things from his lover’s mouth… Well, Jaeyun is lucky he loves him.
“My love, if you’re quite finished with quoting the lyrics of Soundcloud rappers, I have returned,” Sunghoon sighs.
“Hoonie!” Jaeyun squeals, all but flinging himself into Sunghoon’s arms. “My heart has longed for your return since the moment you left me~”
“Mm, and I’m guessing your dick has been longing for my return as well, hasn’t it?” Sunghoon replies dryly. As much as he tries to sound unimpressed, he can’t help but soften under Jaeyun’s touch (and if he has to ignore the way his beloved’s free hand immediately starts wandering somewhere rather inappropriate, then so be it).
“Maybe.” Sunghoon can hear the grin in Jaeyun’s voice when he speaks, and he exchanges an unimpressed look with Jay over his shoulder. Jay rolls his eyes good-naturedly and gets up to leave, presumably to find Jungwon.
“Still the same ill-mannered ruffian as always, I see. Haven’t you been taught to keep your hands to yourself around royalty?” Sunghoon purrs, reveling in the way Jaeyun’s eyes blow wide with desire underneath him.
“I’m still the ill-mannered ruffian you fell in love with, am I not?” Jaeyun quips, mildly dazed. “I had once been taught, but it’s all been undone by the prince who begs for my touch at night.”
“Well met, my love,” Sunghoon says with a smirk, dipping down to mouth at Jaeyun’s neck. He aches to bite down, to give in to the desire that’s been digging at him all night, but he resists. It’s not time yet, anyway. He keeps talking instead, both to tease Jaeyun and to distract them both. “Jungwon wants this party to be bloody. Considering the atmosphere, do you think it will meet his standards?”
Jaeyun whines lowly upon having to form words, and it takes a good few seconds for him to respond. “There’s so many people here, there’s gonna be a riot once the real party starts. Honestly, I’m a little scared.” He says the last bit a little quieter, in a tone that sobers Sunghoon nearly instantly.
“What for? The house is completely sealed, so we need not worry about witnesses,” Sunghoon reassures. He pulls back to see Jaeyun’s face clearly, watching him carefully for any signs of whatever may be bothering him. His face is pinched in a frown, and he glances around before he speaks again.
“I smelled wolf earlier. Not enough for me to be sure who it is, but enough to know there’s one here. Might be two, but that one was a little fainter. Might be their mate, I dunno.” Jaeyun’s eyes flicker about as he speaks, watching the people around them for any signs of their blood rivals. Sunghoon pauses to look as well, but it’s hard to discern anything by sight, smell, or otherwise in the crowded chaos that is the party. Fuck.
Wolves at a party like this mean bad news. The only blood meant to be spilled here is human, but if the wolves aren’t sniffed out and eliminated soon, vampire blood may be spilled as well. Now, they absolutely can’t have that, can they?
“Surely a wolf would know that if Yang Jungwon is involved, they are highly outmatched,” Sunghoon grumbles, half to himself.
“That’s assuming they even know our Jungwon is the host here. He’s outlived enough packs that the young ones might not have learned.” Jaeyun’s reply, while slightly more assured, is still tinted with fear.
“Still, if they are young enough not to know, they should be able to tell by the size of this party alone that we are not to be interfered with,” Sunghoon murmurs, turning his full attention back to his lover. “If they cannot, they will learn.” He brings a hand up to cup Jaeyun’s face as he speaks, gently brushing his thumb over his lower lip. He recalls how it—along with the rest of Jaeyun—had been covered in blood the night they had finally reunited with each other. Looking back, the contrast between them was a little funny; Sunghoon in his royal attire and Jaeyun in stolen tatters, one spotlessly clean and the other covered in dirt and dingo entrails. There was something rabid in Jaeyun that night, and Sunghoon can now see a little bit of that flash in his eyes.
“When you say that, you mean we’ll teach them, right? Because now that you bring it up, I’ve gotten way too fucking soft. I’m done being scared, I wanna tear something apart.” Jaeyun’s voice is underlined with something sharp, and it sparks a wildfire in Sunghoon’s gut.
“Your thirst for violence never fails to thrill me, my love,” he purrs, his eyes ablaze with lust. Jaeyun meets him head-on, fanning his desire until it roars. The only thing missing is the heat that comes with being among the living.
He finally leans in to kiss Jaeyun properly, licking the alcohol from his lips until he parts them. Jaeyun’s resulting groan has Sunghoon pushing him up against the couch until they both go toppling over the back of it, the drink in Jaeyun’s hand splashing to the floor somewhere next to his head when his back hits the soft cushions. Sunghoon’s back arches at an odd angle to accommodate their new position, but he ignores the discomfort in favor of sucking Jaeyun’s neck—a teaser for what’s to come later.
“And there they are again. Are you joining us for a toast or should we just leave you to fuck?” Sunoo’s voice cuts through to them in that infuriating way it always does, and Sunghoon groans before reluctantly pushing himself off to the side. He lands next to Jaeyun, his legs propped up high against the back of the couch and his head hanging off the front.
“If we join your toast, will you leave so we can?” he asks, glaring at an upside-down Sunoo who meets it with a look of disgust.
“Only because the mere thought of you fucking on the couch we share is enough to make me sick. Haven’t you animals ever heard of a room?” Sunoo’s retort is caustic, and if Sunghoon hadn’t already known him for a hundred and twenty-five years, he might have taken offense. He knows Sunoo well, though, so he only snorts and maneuvers himself into a proper sitting position.
“We have. We just think it’s boring.” Jaeyun’s voice cuts in before Sunghoon can reply. Sunoo’s face twists in horror and Sunghoon wordlessly drags Jaeyun up to kiss him full on the mouth, much to Sunoo’s annoyance.
“Horrible, nasty creatures! I can’t stand you!” he shrieks, oblivious to the way the others snicker and Sunghoon struggles not to laugh against Jaeyun’s lips.
“Alright, that’s enough. I won’t stand for any infighting or public indecency at my party, thank you very much.” Jungwon’s voice is stern, but when Sunghoon pulls himself from Jaeyun’s lips to greet him, he’s smiling. There’s a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth, one that Sunghoon swears was in Jay’s mouth when he first arrived. He hands him and Jaeyun a glass each, both filled with a glittery wine that reminds Sunghoon of a witch’s brew. “I’d like you to do the honors, Sunghoon.”
“Me? Why not Heeseung-hyung?” Sunghoon asks. He glances over at their second-in-command, only to see his gaze is miles away. Oh.
“His mind is in a different place,” Jungwon says flatly. Sunghoon decides not to dwell on his hyung letting his carnal desires get the better of him again, clearing his throat to get the rest of the group’s attention.
“A toast to our coven leader and his new lover!” he announces, raising his glass high. “May this new courtship withstand the test of time and bring you both everlasting joy.”
The others cheer similar sentiments as they raise their glasses, and Sunghoon catches a glimpse of Jay and Jungwon sharing a soft smile before he downs his drink.
Heeseung raises his glass to his lips, but not a drop touches them. He’s too busy locking eyes with the punk across the room who had caught his eye hours ago at the bus station. He returns Heeseung’s gaze with far too much clarity for someone who’s spent half the party entertaining fantasies explicit enough to make even Jaeyun blush and the other half knocking back glasses of hard liquor spiked with Sunoo’s blood. A quick look into the punk’s mind tells that he—and Heeseung was right to assume he was a “he”, though “it” is also preferred—is much more sober than what its red face shows, and that’s all Heeseung needs to know.
He mutters a quick excuse to Jungwon before he sets off through the crowd, keeping his eyes trained on the punk’s the whole time. Sunoo will most definitely gripe at him for this later, but he really doesn’t care at this point. Perhaps his… Promiscuous tendencies involving anyone sound of mind and of the proper age is a potential problem, but until something actually happens, he has no plans of quitting or settling down with a proper vampire partner. Everyone else in the coven is taken, anyway.
He stops a polite distance away from the punk, who hasn’t moved at all during his approach. The punk’s eyes are the first to wander, so Heeseung takes that as permission to do the same. Its choker is the first thing to catch Heeseung’s eye, black leather with spikes and roses held together with a heart-shaped padlock. Next is a black crop top edged with safety pins at the bottom under a slightly longer mesh shirt that leaves a strip of skin exposed. Heeseung wonders if he’ll be allowed to leave any marks. His gaze then wanders down to long legs covered up to just above the knee with heeled velvet boots decorated with leather bows, then to mid-thigh with black fishnet stockings. Said stockings are held up by lace, the top edges peeking out from under a high-waisted skirt adorned with silver chains that leaves little to the imagination. He nearly catches himself slavering at the sight of a narrow waist and wide hips—a combination that Heeseung rarely ever saw on another man.
Oh, Heeseung will have fun with this one.
“Hey.” The punk is the first to break the silence between them, barely audible over the thumping bass. “So… What’s your name?”
“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. My English name is Ethan, if that’s easier.”
“Heeseung… I like that. You do look like an Ethan though, that fits you. I’m Ren, by the way.” The punk—no, Ren , sways his hips a little as it speaks, though it appears to be more of a shy habit than drunken instability. Heeseung nearly moans.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ren,” he purrs, taking a careful step into Ren’s personal space. Ren lets him, its eyes appreciatively raking over his body as he gets closer.
“Wow, I had better not be hallucinating. That shadow can only mean tits as big as mine, and I want a fucking handful.”
Ren’s thoughts slam into Heeseung’s head with the force of a cannonball, and Heeseung has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as Ren starts talking, still in that soft tone utterly unfitting for the things running through its head.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Heeseung. I saw you with a bunch of other guys earlier, were those your friends?” Ren sways towards Heeseung as it speaks, close enough to touch. Heeseung keeps his hands to himself, for now.
“They are. That’s the host and our friends.” Heeseung casts a furtive glance at where his coven once was, only to find they’ve already dispersed into the crowd again. “We’re celebrating not only his birthday, but also his crush asking him out.”
“Really? That’s sweet.” Ren’s shoulder brushes against Heeseung’s, an action that it plays off as an accident much too quickly for it to be a real accident. “How long has he been waiting to be noticed?”
“Just about ten months, by now. They’ve both been pining for far too long, so we’re all really happy for them.” After some careful consideration (and a little bit of ogling) Heeseung slings an arm around Ren’s shoulder. “Enough about my friends, I want to get to know you. How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asks.
“Enough that my face decided to fucking explode even though I’m barely feeling it,” Ren replies, plump lips curled in a derisive snarl. Despite its harsh act, it leans into Heeseung’s touch. “I burn it off too quickly for my own good. What about you?”
“Aside from the one sip I had with Jungwon, I haven’t drank any alcohol.” A slight lie, but one that harms no one. Besides, the truth is that he’s had none, anyway. “You are old enough to drink as much as you have, right?” He pulls Ren a little closer as he speaks, fully prepared to let it go and find someone else for the night depending on his answer. Ren snorts and takes a long sip of its gin, as if to spite him.
“I dunno. Eighteen’s a weird age, I’m old enough to fuck but technically not old enough to drink yet.” Ren’s words are laced with intention when it finally takes its glass away from its lips, though Heeseung is too busy reeling over Ren’s forwardness to respond properly. He had been expecting to be hit on, obviously, but to have it happen this quickly caught him by surprise. Ren seems to sense his hesitation and rushes to reassure him. “I’ve got a late birthday. Sucks ass sometimes, but I am old enough to fuck, both physically and mentally.”
“Old enough to fucking die too.”
Ren’s words carry all the subtlety of a hammer being swung directly at Heeseung’s head. Under normal circumstances, he would flirt a little longer before deciding whether or not this would be his target and maybe look around for any other options, but after hearing Ren’s thoughts, he’s set right away.
Might as well kill two birds with one stone.
“Is that what you have in mind tonight?” Heeseung asks, feigning ignorance. “I never would have noticed.” He punctuates his words by dragging his gaze over Ren’s body, eyes glinting red for a split second—just long enough to snatch Ren’s attention but not enough to give anything away.
“Ha ha,” Ren grumbles. “Are you taking it up or are you fucking with me?”
“I would hope to be “fucking with you”, though our definitions of the term must be wildly different. Nineteen isn’t too old for you, is it?” Ren rolls his eyes at Heeseung’s response, but it’s smiling, so he takes that as a good sign.
“You make it sound like we’ve got a hundred years between us or some shit, jeez. It’s just one year,” Ren scoffs. Oh, if only it knew.
“I just want to make sure,” Heeseung placates, putting his hands up in a show of submission. Ren only glowers at the lack of contact. Heeseung holds his glare until Ren’s eyes turn glassy, slowly but surely charming his guard down.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Ren says, suddenly shaking himself free of Heeseung’s enchantment. That hasn’t happened in a while. “You’re not… Weird about whatever’s in someone’s pants, right?”
Heeseung’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“What? Of course not, I’ve been around enough that nothing fazes me. Whatever you’ve got, I’ll work with,” he says with a shrug.
“Thank fuck.” Ren sags in relief, though it tenses up again the instant Heeseung wraps his arm around his waist. “Wait, if you’ve been around, do I have to worry about if you’re clean? Because I do not want to have to run around hiding an ST—anything while my family still thinks I’m a virgin.”
Heeseung can’t help but laugh at Ren’s bluntness, though he’s quick to dispel its worries. “You won’t have to hide anything after tonight, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” It’s too vague of an answer to alleviate any suspicion and he knows it, but bewitching Ren is enough to stop any further questioning. Besides, Ren truly won’t have to worry about that, even if it somehow woke up tomorrow.
“Alright, that’s all I need to know.” Ren gives up surprisingly easily, relinquishing its mind to him so quickly it takes Heeseung off guard, and he stops the enchantment for fear of breaking Ren’s mind by accident. Ren, oblivious to Heeseung’s mental stumble, grabs him by the hand and drags him onto the dance floor.
“Out here? Think of the children!” Heeseung jokes. Despite his words, he snakes his free hand around Ren’s waist, pulling it right up against his body.
“Oh please, I may be a freak, but I’m not a creep.” Ren rolls its eyes, but doesn’t object to the contact. “I just want to see what kind of moves you can put out on the dance floor before I feel the moves you have in bed. You say you’ve got experience, that had better mean something.” It loops its arms around Heeseung’s shoulders and rolls its hips to the beat of something fucking sinful . Heeseung’s fangs nearly slip out.
“Oh, I mean everything I say, sweetheart. You’d better be ready,” he growls. He’s not the type to care about the wishes of humans, but he’ll be damned if he lets Ren’s final one go unfulfilled.
Jay watches Heeseung dance with a stranger from just off the dance floor with a horrified sort of fascination. His hyung has never been anything short of proper in all the forty years they’ve known each other and now there he is, making Jay feel like like some kind of voyeur. It’s… Strange. He’s certainly not jealous, not when his heart and mind are securely locked on Jungwon, but… To think he knew Heeseung for so long before tonight only to find a whole other side of him he’d never seen before is a little jarring, to say the least. He turns away from the sight as the song changes, deciding he’d rather not witness what kind of whorish antics Doja Cat can pull out of his hyung.
“Lee Heeseung, the slut of the coven since 1516,” Jungwon remarks. Jay nearly jumps out of his skin, too caught up in his thoughts to notice his approach. Jungwon giggles and hugs Jay from behind, pinning his arms to his sides and leaving him defenseless. “What’s on your mind that has you so uptight, Jongseong-ah?”
“Oh, nothing. I just didn’t think Heeseung-hyung was capable of being like… This.” Jay shrugs to the best of his ability, careful not to jostle Jungwon.
“The last time he let himself be this free was before we met you, so that might have something to do with it,” Jungwon murmurs softly. “After I found you and brought you in, I think he noticed your reaction to the party scene and decided to tone it down until you were ready again.”
“That's sweet of him… still jarring to see that he was holding back that much, though,” Jay says with a shudder, drawing another giggle from Jungwon. A comfortable silence passes between them, the pair gently swaying to Streets' sensual beat before Jungwon speaks again.
“Enough about Heeseung, I want to think of you.” His speech is a little muffled thanks to the way he squishes his cheek against Jay’s shoulder, and Jay nearly melts.
“I’m right here, aren’t I?” Jay asks.
“Mm. You are. I have you right here in my arms, at my mercy.”
“Is this how you want me?”
“Yes, although I expected more resistance from you.”
“Resistance? From me? Please, Wonie, the day I reject a hug from you is the day the world ends.” The words leave Jay’s mouth before he can really think about them, but he doesn’t regret saying them. He means it, after all.
Jungwon hesitates before he speaks again, a tremor so minute in his voice that Jay wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been so enamored with him for the past ten years.
“I’ll hold you to that, Jongseong.”
Something protective rises up in Jay’s gut at Jungwon’s words, said in a tone that speaks of fading hope, embers starting to fade after being doused over and over again.
“Wonie—”
“You are my last love, Jongseong,” Jungwon sighs. He hugs Jay a little tighter, as if he’ll disappear at any moment. “While I am ready and experienced enough to love you, I have been jaded by the past. I am over them all by now, of course, but…” Jay feels him swallow, and it sounds a little pained this time. “Some scars never heal, even with the time that supposedly heals any wound.”
Jay’s unbeating heart cracks for Jungwon, for all the pain of heartbreak he must have gone through in the five hundred and fifty-one years before they met. He brings his hands up to hold Jungwon’s, gently tracing circles in his palms with his thumbs.
“Jungwon, I really don’t mind waiting longer if you still need time to rest. I love you, that means I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy.”
Jungwon is silent for a long moment, long enough for Jay to wonder if he said something wrong, before he shakes his head and speaks again in a voice so soft, “While I am tired and nervous for... us, my hope outshines it all. I am happy that we agreed that you would start courting me tonight, I wouldn’t be if I had to wait any longer.” He releases Jay from his embrace, turning him around so he can finally see that pretty smile properly. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
Jay is sure he must look like some kind of lovesick fool, if the twinkle of amusement in Jungwon’s eyes is anything to go by. Then again, he finds he doesn’t really care how he looks as long as Jungwon looks at him like that, like he had gathered all the stars in the sky and placed them in his eyes.
“So, about our courtship… What do you want our first date to be?” he asks.
“Well… You did propose a dance earlier,” Jungwon replies, slipping his hand back into Jay’s. “Now that we are done dancing around each other, I would love to do some actual dancing with you.” He starts to pull Jay towards the dance floor as he speaks, and Jay helplessly follows. Belatedly, he notices that the lollipop Jungwon stole from him earlier is still in his mouth, surely nothing but a chewed-up stick by now. Nevertheless, the sight makes something stir in the stillness of his heart.
"I’d be honored, Wonie.”
Sunoo bleeds himself into yet another drink, the last of an amount he's lost count of through the night. This is about as much blood that even a vampire like him can afford to lose in one night, and he's starting to get light-headed. Despite the slight strain, his eyes remain sharp and watchful thanks to Sunghoon's earlier warning of wolves. His skin crawls with the feeling of being watched, though he can't spot anyone suspicious in the crowd. Curse all these drunkard humans for stretching him so thin.
He takes a quick glance at the clock on the wall and his lips curl into a smirk. Looks like he won't have to deal with this much longer. He straightens up and strides past the oblivious partygoers without a trace of the drunken stumble that someone who's had as much to drink as him should have. He scans the crowd for Heeseung as he goes, wanting to let the others know that it's time without the hassle of searching for each individual. Predictably enough, he's nowhere to be found.
"Slut," Sunoo huffs in exasperation. Well, whatever. Heeseung can do whatever he wants, the others will know when the true party starts, with or without his help. He takes one last quick look around the crowd before opening a door that wasn't there before, stepping through and leaving it slightly ajar behind him. It's not like anyone is sober enough to notice.
Unbeknownst to him, two people with gold-flecked eyes and too-sharp nails notice anyway, the taller of the two pushing his way through the crowd towards the door to nowhere and the other following the scent of arousal upstairs.
Sunoo's hunger and blood loss-addled mind drifts to Riki as he walks down the silent hallway, the sound of the party distant and muffled behind him. He wonders just how Riki will indulge himself tonight, if he'll lose himself in tearing through flesh and bone or ravaging Sunoo's lips after he's done gorging himself. Both options are equally appealing to him.
He's so caught up in his thoughts about Riki that he doesn't notice the lights shutting off in the hall behind him until the bulb directly behind him blows. He turns around just in time to meet a familiar face before he's suspended in the air by the throat, sharp claws digging so deeply into the sides of his neck that it nearly breaks. Sunoo doesn't even flinch, quickly clamping his free hand over his glass so it doesn't spill.
"Kei-hyung," he chokes out, his breath wheezing out through a crushed windpipe. "How nice to see you here—” He doesn’t have the time to finish the sentence before Kei throws him against the wall with enough force to fully break his neck.
“Don’t even try that with me, leech,” Kei growls. “I know how cold—hearted you creatures are.”
Sunoo can’t respond, his body slow to heal itself thanks to how thinly he’s been spread throughout the night. He can only watch, paralyzed, as Kei stalks towards him.
“You took Riki away from me. No amount of your kind’s disgusting blood will be enough to replace him, but I suppose getting rid of you and whatever curse you’ve put on his mind will be enough for now.”
Sunoo’s only managed to heal enough to feel the pain in his fractured spine before Kei’s heel is digging into his chest, the werewolf leaning onto him with his full weight. Despite his terror, Sunoo refuses to back down, glaring directly into Kei’s eyes, which sparkle with pure malice.
“Hyung!”
A sudden flash of light blinds both Kei and Sunoo, and all of a sudden the weight is removed from Sunoo’s chest. There’s another flash, a gust of wind, yet another flash, and then Riki is crouched in front of him, his face crumpled in concern.
“Hyung, are you alright?” Riki asks. His hands hover over Sunoo’s battered body as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“M’fine,” Sunoo wheezes, his fingers twitching as his nerves start to reconnect. “Where did you take Kei-hyung? He’s going to keep coming back unless we get rid of him tonight.”
“He’s on the other side of the house. I think there’s a mosh pit going on in the living room, that should slow him down at least,” Riki replies. He gently takes Sunoo’s hand in his, holding him as if he’s some kind of precious gem. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice something was wrong sooner, I would have come with you.” His voice trembles a little as he speaks, and Sunoo’s heart squeezes painfully.
“It’s alright, there’s no way you could have known,” Sunoo murmurs. His neck gives a sickening crunch when he finally turns his head to look up at Riki, only to be met with a downturned, sullen glare. “Riki?”
“I should have, though,” Riki mutters. “It’s Kei-hyung, there’s no way I can run or hide from him unless he’s…” He trails off, lost in thought. Sunoo bites his lip. There’s no way this party will be derailed, so he might as well tell him now.
“Riki, it’s fine. I led him here.”
A deadly silence fills the hall, broken only by the faint music thrumming through the walls. It starts to suffocate Sunoo, even though he lost the need to breathe centuries ago. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with his lover, petrified at what he might see.
“You what?”
For once in their seventy-five years together, Sunoo can’t pick up on anything that Riki is feeling. It terrifies him, but Riki isn’t flying into a rage at least, so he continues.
“Think about it. You said yourself that you can’t run or hide from him, so why not just get rid of him instead? He’s been terrorizing us for long enough. Why not break free?”
He finally musters the courage to meet Riki’s eyes by the time the last sentence leaves his mouth. Much to his surprise, he’s met with… Tears.
“Hyung, you can’t just decide these kinds of things for me.” His hands curl into fists at his sides, sharp nails breaking skin until his blood starts to drip down. It hurts to move, but Sunoo reaches out to take Riki’s hands anyway. Riki doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t make any move to reciprocate, either. “I’m already free enough when I’m with you, with the rest of this coven. Why would you think I need anything else?” His voice cracks on the last syllable, along with Sunoo’s heart. This isn’t how he planned to reveal his secret, but he supposes this is his only choice now.
“Riki, you don’t—” he starts.
“‘I don’t’ what?” Riki sharply cuts him off. “I don’t care that he’s out for our lives!”
“Riki—”
“I don’t mind having to fight or run as long as I’m with you! ”
“Please Riki, let me—”
“You’re the only person I have left who’s precious to me, so I don’t care about anyone else!”
“That can’t be true Riki, not when your twin is alive! ”
Sunoo’s broken ribs ache from shouting so loudly, and his wheezing breaths echo in the silent hall. Riki is still as death in front of him, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. Sunoo continues while the other is too stunned to shout at him, though he doubts Riki can fully hear him.
“Kei-hyung found him before we could, he runs with the pack now. I don’t know what he's been told, but he doesn't know the truth."
The sound of the door slamming open at the end of the hall cuts Sunoo off before he can continue.
"Riki—" A silver flash blinds him for a moment, and when he opens his eyes again, he's sitting on the edge of a fountain hidden deep in the heart of the mansion. "—we can’t get him back if Kei is still chasing us."
"We'll talk when the party's over," Riki sighs. His shoulders slump with a resignation that he doesn't want to admit. "Do whatever you need to do."
He's gone before Sunoo can say anything to comfort him. Pushing down his guilt, he picks up his miraculously un-spilled drink and pours it directly into the fountain.
The water starts foaming furiously upon contact, the sharp smell of iron slowly permeating the air as the fountain starts to bleed and overflow. Sunoo takes a deep breath to steel himself, having finally recovered enough that moving no longer hurts.
"Let the true party begin," Sunoo whispers to an empty room.
The last thing he hears before tipping backwards into the frothing red fountain is an enraged howl in the distance.
Back on the dance floor, Jungwon dodges yet another too-drunk partygoer as he waits for Jay to return from changing the music, lollipop stick now discarded. All the humans have had more than enough of their fill by now and are starting to show it, their faces dazed and their movements sluggish. Heeseung, Sunoo, and Riki have all disappeared and he can't catch Jaeyun or Sunghoon's eye since they're too caught up with each other to pay attention to anyone else, but he can still feel their anticipation thrumming in the air.
He approaches a girl who's looking a little worse for wear, feigning concern. She doesn't acknowledge him when he puts a hand on her shoulder, still swaying to the music.
"Hey, are you alright? Do you need help finding a bathroom?" he asks. She looks up at him with glassy eyes right as the song changes, and he deftly steps aside as she violently throws up.
All around him, a sudden calm starts to ripple through the other partygoers, some going deathly still while a few others who've had too much to drink share the same reaction as the girl he was just with.
"About time," he mutters to himself, unable to hide his grin. He weaves through the crowd with all the grace that they lack in search of his now boyfriend.
"Wonie!”
As if on cue, the music switches from a popular rap track to a dark EDM instrumental. Jungwon steps over a convulsing guest and flings himself into Jay’s arms, nearly shaking in anticipation. Jongseong holds him a little too hard when he catches him, but with the amount of tension building in the air, Jungwon pays it no mind.
“What’s with you? You’re acting like you haven’t seen me in years,” Jongseong teases.
“Am I no longer allowed to be clingy to my boyfriend? You wound me,” Jungwon fires back. He pulls back to swat at Jongseong’s chest, though he puts no real intent behind it.
“I never said that. You can cling to me as much as you want, I’ll take care of you,” Jongseong murmurs. His voice is soft, but Jungwon still hears him loud and clear over the music. When Jungwon meets his eyes, they’re red and shining with hunger, but below that is a depth of love that Jungwon doesn’t recall ever seeing in his six hundred and twenty-nine years of life. He freezes, his unbeaten heart jumping in his chest. How one person could possibly hold this much utter adoration for another is almost beyond his comprehension, and for a split second, he’s scared.
“Jongseong… How can you be so sure of this?” Jungwon asks. His voice does not waver, but his hand trembles as he reaches up to cup Jongseong’s face. He wants, by the heavens above he wants , but his own internal walls still refuse to crumble at this most critical moment.
“First loves can be very powerful,” Jongseong says, bringing his hand up to hold Jungwon’s in place, “and even if they weren’t, I would still stumble through it all for you.”
Jungwon’s heart swells along with the music, and as the crowd stirs around them, he finally kicks down his last emotional barrier himself. It comes crashing down the moment his lips finally meet Jongseong’s, accompanied by the thrumming bass drop from the speakers and a spray of blood from above.
Neither he nor Jongseong pull away from each other until they taste the sweet, fresh blood on each other’s lips and steal it off each other’s tongues. Jungwon’s fangs ache when he finally pulls away, and when he meets Jongseong’s eyes, the other looks a little frenzied.
“Love me later. Now, we feast.”
In the hallway leading to the kitchen, Jake has Sunghoon pinned against the wall, fangs clicking against the other's in a frenzied kiss. Sunghoon fists a hand into Jake’s hair, drawing a moan from both of them when Jake grinds up against him in response. Jake is long past controlling his lust, both for blood and for Sunghoon. He can feel how much it thrills Sunghoon to see this feral, primal side of him—it has been far too long since he had last witnessed it, after all.
Before he can pull back to sink his fangs into Sunghoon's neck, a human guest barrels into him hard enough to knock him down. They're screaming something incoherent over the music, eyes unfocused and hands scrabbling at his clothes and hair. Jake only grins and kicks them off him, no longer holding any strength back. They go flying into the writhing crowd on the dance floor, their screams adding to the cacophony of retching, shrieking humans.
Right as Jake gets up to dust himself off, Sunghoon darts past him in a blur, clawed hands piercing straight into another boy’s stomach and pulling . There’s a satisfying squelch as Sunghoon yanks out his intestines, a spray of blood coating the floor and his clothes as they go. Sunghoon catches the back of the boy’s neck in his mouth as he falls, draining him so quickly that even the blood dripping from his eviscerated stomach stops within a mere few seconds.
Jake throws himself into the fray not a moment later, his aching fangs tearing into a girl’s throat so hard that he severs it from her body. It gives a satisfying crunch under his teeth before he spits it out and latches his mouth back on to the gurgling, gaping wound where it used to be. He catches another human before he’s even done with this one, gripping his second victim’s face and sinking his fingers directly into their eye sockets. He holds them there as he drains the first girl, completely unaffected by their mindless thrashing until there’s a cracking noise and they go limp. Jake simply shrugs, tossing their body high above the crowd. A dark blur follows it and its torso suddenly splits open, raining blood down on the crowd below.
The corpse soon falls out of Jake’s line of sight, revealing someone standing by the railing upstairs, unaffected by the hysteria of the crowd below. His eyes glow golden with rage, and Jake braces himself for a fight, but that quickly proves to be unnecessary. The door behind the werewolf slams open, and a half-dressed Heeseung, already covered in blood, launches himself at him, pinning his body against the railing. Jake is still hungry and being battered by his next meals from all directions, but he still watches, fascinated, as Heeseung drives his claws into the back of the werewolf’s neck until he stops struggling. His limbs still twitch with life, and Jake can make out the frantic heaving of his chest from his place on the floor, but he’s still incapacitated enough that he can’t fight back. Perhaps on another day, the coven would have shown this werewolf mercy, but judging by Heeseung’s snarl as he whispers something that Jake can’t make out, that won’t be happening. Heeseung glances down and locks eyes with Jake down below for a split second and grins, bloodstained fangs on full display as he picks up his adversary and throws him directly onto the chandelier hanging above all the guests.
The sharp glass faux candles on the light easily pierce through the parts of the werewolf’s neck that Heeseung’s claws could not, hooking through his spine and sticking out his throat on the other end. The room is quickly bathed in red from the swinging chandelier, adding to the already-chaotic flashing of the disco ball next to it. The room itself seems to spin, much like Jake’s head as he takes a third, fourth, and fifth victim for the night.
He drinks himself stupid, until he isn’t even aware of where he’s biting down or what his hands are breaking or tearing through to claim his victim, only that he grabs something to take his fill. His vision starts to become a foggy red, to the point where he can’t really tell if he’s hallucinating or not when Riki steps out of the wall holding a wolf’s head in one hand and Sunoo’s hand in the other. Jake loses them both in the crowd a few seconds later, so he decides not to dwell on it. His targets have started to blend in to each other at this point, the sensation of flesh squishing beneath his hands and mouth becoming a constant presence. Blood runs down his face and soaks him through his once-pristine uniform straight to his skin. He’s drank more than enough to be full on a normal night, but his hunger still hasn’t been completely satiated yet. He needs Sunghoon now, Sunghoon tearing off his clothes as if he’s tearing into his next victim, Sunghoon licking the blood off his skin, Sunghoon, Sunghoon, Sunghoon.
Jake finds him at the center of the dancefloor, still somehow moving with all the grace that he once had in the ballroom as he slashes his way through the circle of humans around him. When he isn’t drinking, he looks almost as if he’s dancing. The image goes straight to his cock, and he moans out loud before throwing himself into the pit. He shadows Sunghoon as he goes, ripping apart the ones closest to his boyfriend where he knows they’ll bleed the most. Sunghoon is drenched in blood and viscera within minutes, to the point where even his pale skin is stained red.
The look that Sunghoon gives him when their eyes meet is enough to bring Jake to his knees, but he forces himself to keep standing even when Sunghoon stalks over to him and kisses him like he’s prey, even when Sunghoon licks into his mouth to give him a taste of the heart he had just eaten.
“I’ve had enough humans tonight,” Sunghoon growls against his lips. “I’m eating you next.”
Jake almost fucking mewls , his composure audibly shaking apart when he replies.
“Not now, the party’s barely started, babe. Let me see you dance for me first, pretty please?”
“You’re cute when you beg,” Sunghoon purrs. “Step back, I’ll give you a show.”
Jake whines as Sunghoon leaves his side, but his absence is quickly forgotten when Sunghoon starts to move.
He’s all grace, drawing soft lines with his body in one beat and sharp angles in the next, effortlessly kicking aside anyone who gets too close without letting them interrupt his flow. Jake nearly drools as he watches Sunghoon’s thighs flex under his blood-soaked pants, barely resisting the urge to sink his teeth into them right on the dance floor. He bites down onto the next human who bumps into him instead, ripping into her jugular and tossing her onto the chandelier next to the deceased werewolf so her blood will drip onto Sunghoon.
The whole room is painted red at this point, blood staining the walls and windows, spattering across the ceiling, and puddling on the floor to the point where Jake starts to worry that Sunghoon might slip.
He does no such thing, dancing through all the blood and letting it pour over him until the song ends. His red eyes are clouded with lust and overconsumption as he stalks over to Jake and claims him with a kiss. Jake whimpers at the fervor Sunghoon kisses him with, stumbling backwards toward the hall. He can only hope Heeseung can hear his thoughts over everything as Sunghoon pulls him into the nearest room, since the instant the door closes, they won’t be coming back out.
Tell Jungwon the two of us said happy birthday again, we’re ditching!’
Across the room, Heeseung rolls his eyes as he breaks open a boy’s ribcage.
When Sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he doesn’t quite remember what he did last night. He knows that he and Jake went off to get a room after a few songs, he has the marks and soreness to prove it, but aside from that… He blearily blinks against the sun shining in his eyes.
Wait, sun?
Sunghoon sits bolt upright, looking around frantically for his friends. He sighs in relief when he sees them all sound asleep on a couch in the shade, safe from the sun streaming through the windows. Everything is clean now, although in different places than he remembers. Not a single trace of blood remains from the previous night, even the smell of iron is absent from the air. If it weren’t for the decorations they had set up for Jungwon’s party still being up, he would have thought it was all a dream.
“The carnival’s moved on successfully, I see,” he mutters to himself. “Time for a new life with no wolves…” He collapses back onto the floor, sluggish from the sun’s warmth. “After I’m done sleeping this off.”
Unseen by the sleeping vampires, a young boy with gold-flecked eyes watches them through the window, cradling the severed head of someone he once called a father figure.
Description: Thanks to conflicting schedules, Jinsung hasn't seen his boyfriend Doyum in nearly a month, and his yearning is enough to make even the sun start to cry. A dream and a sudden ribbon of nightly rainshowers hail Doyum's return, and with every drop on their bedroom window, their love is reaffirmed—and blossoms into something new amid the downpour.
(Read on Ao3)
Jinsung wakes up to the sound of rain on his window. He blearily lifts his head to check the time on the clock at his bedside table: 10:45. He huffs out a sigh, burying his head back in his soft, welcoming pillows. He would have let the rain lull him right back to sleep if the sheets behind him didn’t stir, a hand gently wrapping around his waist and pulling him close against a warm chest.
“Good morning,” a familiar voice murmurs, still rough with sleep. Jinsung’s heart does a funny little flip in his chest, and suddenly he’s wide awake.
“Doyum?” Jinsung croaks. “Thought you wouldn’t be back until this afternoon.” He cranes his head to look at him even though his eyes are still half crusted over.
Jinsung’s beloved boyfriend merely shrugs in response, the motion jostling him a little. “Work was slow enough yesterday that I could leave early, and I didn’t see any reason to wait,”
“Why didn’t you wake me up? I missed you…” Jinsung rolls over to face Doyum as he speaks, hoping the rustling of the sheets will drown out his last three words—which were muttered barely over a whisper. Doyum pulls him back into arms as soon as he settles back down, his face barely a centimeter from his.
“I’m sorry, I just figured you could use some rest. Besides, you looked like you were having a wonderful dream.” Doyum cups his cheek oh-so-gently, completely unfazed by Jinsung’s bare, sleep-swollen face. “You can go back to sleep if you want, I’m just going to make breakfast.”
“No way, I want food.” Contrary to his words, Jinsung flings an arm and a leg around Doyum’s body, pulling him in close enough to bury his face in his chest. He takes a deep breath, taking in Doyum’s sweet scent.
“I’ll gladly make you some, but I can’t really do that if you won’t let me out of bed,” Doyum chuckles. Jinsung only grunts in response, burying himself in even deeper—partly out of spite and partly out of possessiveness. He had been left with residual traces of his boyfriend for nearly a month thanks to exams and work schedules while other people in some dance class on a whole other college campus got to be up close and personal with the source, so Jinsung has every right to indulge!
He’s jostled out of his thoughts by Doyum’s soft laughter, reverberating through his body and stirring up a fresh swarm of butterflies—and a loud growl—in Jinsung’s stomach.
“Come on, your stomach doesn’t lie. Let me up and we can both eat.” Doyum nudges Jinsung until he finally looks up. Jinsung glares when he sees Doyum’s lips tightly pursed to prevent him from laughing, and for a split second he’s torn on whether to kiss him or kill him. He decides on the former, but Doyum is quick to block him, pushing him away and making his escape with a final “Nope, no kisses until you brush your teeth!” called over his shoulder. Defeated, Jinsung slumps back down on the bed. Well, his bed now, considering how Doyum decided to abandon him.
“This is boyfriend mistreatment!” Jinsung shouts as the bathroom tap turns on.
“Terms and conditions aren’t mistreatment, I need to train you properly!” Doyum shouts back, muffled around a toothbrush. Jinsung pouts at the ceiling, pretending it’s Doyum.
“You’re pretending some inanimate object is me and giving it angry puppy eyes again, aren’t you?”
“...”
One minute and a thrashing of blankets later, Jinsung joins Doyum at the bathroom sink. He goes about his usual morning routine somewhat on autopilot, too distracted watching his boyfriend doing his million-year skincare routine to really focus on anything else.
“I can tell you’re staring,” Doyum teases, his eyes shut tight as he applies yet another something-or-other that Jinsung keeps forgetting the use of.
“No I’m not,” Jinsung deflects, “your eyes are closed, there’s no way you can tell.” He petulantly tears his gaze away from Doyum, finally making eye contact with himself in the mirror for the first time in about fifteen minutes.
“We’ve been together long enough that I can just tell. Am I really that pretty?” Doyum teases. Jinsung’s “Yes.” tumbles from his mouth before he can even think to hesitate. Doyum’s face lighting up with the compliment is worth Jinsung’s embarrassment though, especially when Doyum finishes patting on his last whatever-it-is and leans up to kiss him on the cheek.
“I’m honored to hear it, especially coming from you,” Doyum murmurs. He drapes his hands on Jinsung’s shoulder, leaning on him ever so slightly while he admires them both in the mirror. Jinsung follows his gaze to the two of them in the mirror, both in their pajamas, and Doyum, looking like he just walked straight out of a kdrama with just slightly tousled hair next to Jinsung—hair a rat’s nest, sleepies still clinging to his eyes, and his face a puffy mess of drool and toothpaste. Even in his messy state, his heart still soars like he’s on the top of the world (while brushing his teeth, because being in love is like that sometimes).
“I’m going to make breakfast, you take your time.” Doyum leaves him with a pat on the shoulder, and he can’t help but notice how cold it is in his absence. He hurries through the rest of his routine, and if Doyum hears his sharp curse when he splashes cold water all over himself, no he didn’t. He strips off his shirt and blindly tosses it into the hamper as he makes his way back into the bedroom, contemplating what to wear.
He’s right about to decide on a shirt when faint music starts drifting through the thin apartment walls accompanied by Doyum singing, soft and alluring like a siren. Shirt be damned, he wanders into the kitchen, faintly aware that he would die if he were a pirate. Then again, what pirate would be able to resist that voice?
“Oh boy, you're so 위험 위험 위험, 이미 난 네 아름다움에 눈멀었네~”
He finds Doyum at the stove, his back turned to him as he works on breakfast. He doesn’t flinch when Jinsung drapes himself over his back, leaning into his embrace with a smile instead.
“Bit of a horny song for eleven in the morning, isn’t it?” Jinsung teases, nuzzling Doyum’s ear. Doyum only giggles and guides Jinsung’s arms to wrap around his waist.
“Bit of a horny outfit for eleven in the morning. Or lack of an outfit, I should say.” Doyum cheekily nudges his hips against Jinsung’s, and he seriously considers skipping breakfast in favor of eating something else for a second. He decides against it for now, if only because he’s hungry.
“Don’t tempt me before I’ve eaten.” Jinsung punctuates his words with a gentle bite to Doyum’s shoulder. “Besides, I wanna set up those LEDs we got last month, I wanna see how they help the mood. Plus I haven’t even told you about the dream I had.”
“Okay, okay. Tell me after breakfast, I’m hungry.” Jinsung nods, and they fall into a comfortable silence for their usual routine.
“So, my dream was honestly a little weird at first,” Jinsung starts, half an hour and a makeout session at the kitchen sink later. “It was like, I was watching the sun? Or I was the sun maybe, I don’t know. But I had this feeling, like I was lonely even though I had all this light and warmth shining out all around me, but no one was there.” He unwinds the string of lights as he speaks, occasionally glancing over to Doyum. He’s busy clearing out anything that could be knocked over or broken by their little decoration project, but he still looks over at Jinsung at every chance he gets so he knows he’s listening.
“Go on, I can hear you,” Doyum calls from just outside the door, where a little pile of stuff from on top of their dresser is starting to build up.
“I kept calling out and sending out like, solar flares and stuff just to see if anyone would come, but no one did, and eventually it just got so heavy that I started crying.”
“Oh, babe—”
“—Well, sort of, but at that point it didn’t really feel like me, if that makes sense? Like, I was there experiencing it, but it wasn’t… me , if that makes sense?” Jinsung is quick to dispel Doyum’s concern, though his boyfriend’s compassion does warm his heart.
“Mm, I get what you mean. You were saying?”
“Yeah yeah, and I know this is totally impossible for the sun to create water or anything, but I saw ‘my’ teardrops flowing down and they turned into this like, river, almost, and as I kept crying, it like. Crystallized? I don’t know how it happened, but eventually the tears turned into the moon.” Jinsung bites his lip, suddenly self-conscious to continue. “I don’t know, I told you it was kinda weird.”
“I don’t think it’s weird. Your subconscious created all that, I think it’s beautiful, hearing a little bit of how your mind works.” Doyum crosses the room to kiss him on the cheek. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, too.”
“No no, I want to, it’s just…” Jinsung doesn’t meet Doyum’s eyes, a light blush slowly creeping over his face as he replays the dream in his mind. “It gets a little sticky.” Doyum raises an eyebrow. “Er—not sticky, sappy.” Jinsung bites his tongue, internally screaming. It’s not that he doesn’t want Doyum to know that he dreams about him, and neither of them are strangers to sticky (both in a pleasant and unpleasant context). This dream though, this one had felt a little different, like Jinsung’s subconscious had opened the door to a new level of their relationship, and all he had to do was step through.
“I don’t mind sappy.” Doyum’s voice cuts through Jinsung’s thoughts, and he’s guided to look at him by a soft hand on his cheek. “I love you, and that includes anything that your subconscious mind can make you dream of.”
Jinsung melts into Doyum’s touch, perhaps a little more so than he would before. Then again, who wouldn’t after hearing those three special words for the first time?
“I love you, too.” He finally meets Doyum’s eyes, and he swears he sees the galaxy light up in their depths when his words reach him. “I think this dream is what made me realize it.”
Doyum doesn’t give Jinsung any time to get flustered again, swooping down to kiss him. Jinsung hates cliches, but the only way he could describe this feeling is like falling—except there’s no fear, just a rush that he dives into head-on.
Jinsung is a little dazed when Doyum pulls away for air, though he’s still coherent enough to remember he hasn't done his retelling to the boy he loves (he can finally say it with confidence!).
“Y’know how it made me realize?” Jinsung asks, his hand coming up to hold Doyum’s in place on his cheek.
“How?”
“After the moon was formed, I—the sun—was still crying, but then… I don’t really remember how exactly it happened, but it shimmered, sort of, and then it was you. I don’t think I saw you in the dream, not really, but I knew the moon was supposed to be you.” Jinsung feels like he's drowning under the weight of Doyum's eyes on him, but this time he refuses to escape the tide. “I don’t think either of us said anything, but I remember you came orbiting over—and I know there’s no such thing as ‘over’ or ‘under’ in space—but you came to lie over me and I remember you were above me and I calmed down instantly, it just…. It felt right . And then you kissed me, and—”
Jinsung’s mouth clicks shut and he flushes red. He isn’t shy about his desires with Doyum, but to admit that he’d dreamed about this on the same night that he realized he truly loves him seems a little shallow.
“And? Then what?” Doyum asks, pretty eyes shining with curiosity and concern. Jinsung scrambles internally for a moment, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere.
“I—I’ll tell you once we finish setting these up, they’ll set the right mood.”
Doyum raises an eyebrow, but the sparkle still doesn’t leave his eyes. Precious , Jinsung thinks. It takes him back to earlier in the kitchen, hearing Baekhyun’s Bambi flowing from Doyum’s lips. Jinsung bites his lip, mischievous. He has the full intention to be open and sincere, but he still wants to play.
“... I’ll show you, actually—” Doyum lights up. “—but only if it rains later tonight. I’ll show you then.”
“Tease. You’d better show me every rainy night for this whole week if it does.”
“Deal.” Jinsung had always loved the sun, but when the clouds gave them some quiet time to set up their lights, he only wanted it to pour.
The universe must be in on their little game, since at precisely nine o’clock that night, there’s a telltale tapping on the bedroom window—right as Doyum is stepping in. Just the sight of him in the doorway, softly illuminated by the streetlights outside filtering through their cheap curtains, has Jinsung’s heart racing in anticipation.
“So, you were going to show me what the best part of your dream was like?” Doyum asks.
“Yeah, just give me one second…” Jinsung fiddles with the LED remote in his hands, something that Doyum is sure to pick up on as he makes his way to the bed.
Doyum doesn’t look at all surprised when the room is suddenly bathed in a sultry red and Jinsung drags him down onto his lap.
“Is this okay?” Jinsung asks, his lips hovering just above Doyum’s neck. He can feel the way Doyum’s breath hitches before he swallows, the way Doyum’s hands are already sliding up his shirt, but he still waits for a verbal confirmation.
“I’ve been missing you too long to be anything but okay,” Doyum murmurs, and that’s all Jinsung needs.
That’s how the first night starts, Doyum’s body over Jinsung so he can be taken apart and pieced back together long into the night. Jinsung had never thought that Doyum’s pretty, pale neck would look so good like this, marred with red bites and bruises that fade to purple in the morning.
He reminds Doyum of it through the entire day, perhaps a little more than he would have before—then again, he hadn’t truly known what it’s like to explore the body of someone he truly loves before. Doyum swats at him and acts flustered every time he does, but by the way Doyum’s hands will subconsciously wander to his throat and trace over the marks with a sort of reverence, Jinsung can tell that he feels the same.
The second night starts more gradually, warm rain drip-dripping down their windows at the same pace as Doyum’s hands wandering over Jinsung’s body, first his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his torso—until he’s soaked in desire and whimpering Doyum’s name. This night leaves no marks, but Jinsung still feels Doyum’s fingerprints well into the next day.
The third night brings a storm like no other, wind and rain battering their apartment so hard that the walls rattle ever so slightly. Doyum nearly cowers away this time, but the sight of Jinsung looking down at him like he hung the moon, lit up by flashes of lightning, is enough to keep him in the mood. He apologizes profusely for the scratches he ends up leaving on Jinsung’s back the next morning, but Jinsung admires them instead, shivering not in pain when Doyum touches them.
They change their sheets before the fourth night. One might argue that the drizzle that accompanies their languid kisses isn’t enough rain to count for their game, but being young and in love negates that argument. Perhaps Jinsung is a little rougher than the weather calls for tonight, but neither of them really mind—especially not when Doyum’s hands are gripping his hips and digging in until he bruises. Jinsung’s legs are still a little shaky the next morning, a fact that he proudly flaunts despite Doyum’s concern.
On the fifth night, it doesn’t rain until they’ve both fallen deeply asleep. Still, their desire seeps into both their dreams, driving them to blindly seek each other’s embrace, unconsciously rocking against each other until they wake, sticky and tangled together. Doyum is too flustered to look Jinsung in the eye until it’s past noon no matter how Jinsung tries to reassure him, which he finds impossibly endearing.
The sixth night progresses much like the first, heavy clouds gathering about during the day and pouring out their accumulated drops right as Doyum presses a deep kiss to Jinsung’s lips. He’s more playful tonight, sucking dark marks into Jinsung’s chest in a heart shape right above where the organ pounds. Jinsung teases him for being sentimental, but Doyum is quick to flip it right back, sinking into him and giving no release until Jinsung is spilling his heart out before him. Jinsung means every word, repeating them to Doyum the next day every time he gets a chance to.
By the last night of their bet, Jinsung can feel Doyum in his veins. There are no longer any flashing sparks or life-changing revelations when they touch, but a soft calm instead, like the past week’s rain has formed a deep pool of love that he can dive into whenever Doyum is nearby. He can stir the waters up if he wants to, and Doyum will react accordingly, rising to meet him or oh-so-gently pulling him down until he’s calm. This, Jinsung realizes, is what it means to settle down—something that once terrified him. How ridiculous, he thinks, to have been scared of something as wonderful as this.
Doyum is the first to make a move tonight, one hand slipping under Jinsung’s shirt as that routine pitter-patter starts up on their window. Just that alone is enough to set off a buzz under Jinsung’s skin, though he sees no need to rush into anything tonight. He’s content with kissing Doyum until he’s pliant underneath him until Doyum gives him a certain look, one that he’s powerless to resist. Despite Doyum’s insatiability, the night is gentle, soft sighs amid gentle creaking from the worn bedsprings. Anything louder would cast a stone onto their gentle ripples and break the mood. They linger in each other’s embrace even after they’re both spent, exchanging soft kisses and sweet nothings until they both fall asleep.
Even though their game is over by the next morning, their new feelings are far from it. It must be obvious, if the texts from their friends have anything to say about it.
Junseo
@Doyum Hey where are u Yongha-hyung wants to know if you and Jinsung are coming out tonight
Sungwon
@Jinsung where are you and Doyum-hyung? did you guys have a fight? Junseo-hyung says you guys didn’t show up last night
Taekhyeon
@Doyum @Jinsung did u guys like die or something
Yongha
We would know if they were dead. Let them have some space, you know how much they've missed each other
Seunghwan
Ah, young love 😩
Taewoo
If they’re not dead then where are they??
Taekhyeon
lol what if they got married
Sungwon
GASP
Junseo
They totally could have, why else would they disappear the instant they get to see each other again?
Yongha
I highly doubt they would move that fast
Taekhyeon
u never know hyung! it could be possible!
Yechan
@Doyum @Jinsung Congrats on your pre-marriage lol
Sungwon
if you guys break up after this I will cry 🥺
Jinsung sighs fondly at his stupid friends before gently setting down his phone, careful not to wake Doyum. His mind swirls around the image that they put in his mind as he goes back to sleep. While marriage is still definitely far away for them, now that he thinks of it… He can’t see any future for himself without Doyum by his side.
Description: Yedam has always wanted to be a star, a beacon to light up other people's dark nights. However, there's one drawback to being another's light: No one will be there to be his Polaris—or so he thinks.
Enter Kim Doyoung. Distant at first, but bright and beautiful, a star just like him. They're both surrounded by dark loneliness on all sides, but maybe—just maybe, they can find their way through it with each other's shine.
(Spoiler alert: They do)
(Read on Ao3)
Ask me why my heart's inside my throat
I've never been in love, I've been alone
Yedam feels strange. Almost eight whole years of balancing school, training, and his second survival show without ever getting so choked—up like this, like his heart has crawled to his throat. It’s not like he would have died without company, he doesn’t need a clique of friends or some cliche teenage love story. His parents and a few of his mentors occasionally express concern over the fact that there are few people that could actually be considered his close friends, but he doesn’t see the issue. He keeps up enough of a social life to not drown in the combined responsibilities of being a top student and YG’s prodigy trainee. It really isn’t that big of a deal to him.
At least, that’s what he tells them.
Feel like I've been living life asleep
Love so strong it makes me feel so weak
In reality, there’s a hollow inside his chest that gets scraped wider every time he watches the people around him, so bright in each other’s presence, so warm. He sees it the most prominently in his hyungs; the way Seunghun will cuddle up to Byounggon after a long day, the way Hyunsuk and Jihoon will bicker as a form of flirting, the way Yoshinori clings to Mashiho and Hyunsuk like a pair of lifelines: one leading back home and the other anchoring him to his new place, the way Junkyu and Mashiho so effortlessly clicked and bonded from early on, the way Jaehyuk so tenderly watches over Asahi. It’s not exactly painful, but there are times where he wishes he could have someone who could awaken his heart like that. The logical, goal—oriented side of him scoffs at their theatrics, finds them weak for swaying to their partners so easily, but the emotional side of him that he does his best to keep neatly tucked away is persistent, whispers to him in his sleep during dark and lonely nights: How strong must their love be, then, to render their bodies so weak?
Are you lonely? (Are you lonely?)
Our fingers dancing when they meet
“Are you lonely?” That seems to be a question he gets a lot, both from other people and from himself. He tries his best to answer, but what he finds only leads to more questions. In a general sense, no. He’s made enough friends to keep himself satisfied, and he’s close enough to them to be able to make deep conversations. One of said friends is even close enough to him that the line between friendship and something else is extremely blurred, yet he still yearns for something . Something more, something different, he can’t quite tell. For now, he’s satisfied with his bond with Kim Doyoung. He treats him well, both as a hyung and a more—than—friend. Their attachment is so deep that they understand each other with just a single word or a glance, and they both have trouble envisioning a future without the other. Yedam doesn’t like thinking about that, determined to make it to the end with Doyoung’s hand in his, their fingers intertwined when they meet at the finish line for the last dance of this godforsaken show. It’s sappy, and maybe a little out—of—character for him, but as long as the cameras aren’t rolling, he can afford to have a little distraction.
Like how Doyoung has been acting a little off ever since he noticed his own strange feelings.
You seem so lonely (Are you lonely?)
I'll be the only dream you seek
His dear friend, the almost perpetual ray of sunshine in his life, has dimmed over the past few weeks. There’s hardly enough time to talk without a camera rolling these days and any slips of truly free time they have is spent either catching up on practice or rest, so a true heart—to—heart with him would be hard to come by. Still, he tries his best to help him, distract him from the rainclouds in his heart for a moment at least. A question in the form of a look from across the practice room, one that not even the keenest camera could pick up on: “Are you lonely?” An answer in Doyoung’s uncharacteristically dark eyes, the way doesn’t smile even as his favourite song is blasting in the small practice room. “Yes. Nightmares again,” they say. Perhaps a daydream in the form of Yedam’s presence could chase away the exhaustion they left behind. He dances his way across the room, holding out a hand for Doyoung to take. “May I have this dance?” he wants to say, but the cameras are rolling and he doesn’t want to show any more than he has to.
So if you're lonely, no need to show me
If you're lonely come be lonely with me
Doyoung gazes at him in confusion as he takes his hand, but no words are needed to explain as Yedam pulls him to his feet. They’ve gotten quite good at communicating without them while they’re living under the constant watch of cameras, and Yedam has enough experience that he’ll know what Doyoung is thinking without him even having to show it. Sometimes it’s hard to pretend that he doesn’t, which is a little hard when he’s cuddled up against Doyoung’s side and he can feel how badly Doyoung wants to kiss him. He’s quick to push those thoughts away; now isn’t the time. As much as he yearns, this moment is for Doyoung alone.
They’re both stars burning bright against the dark backdrop of their uncertain futures, but Doyoung is growing cold while Yedam is still warm and he fears that Doyoung might collapse in a silent heat death, so he pulls him into his orbit and sends off something of a solar flare to light him back up, dancing and jumping about so intensely that he’s sure the viewers will worry for him. He finds he doesn’t care as much as he should; it all pales in comparison to how much he just wants to see Doyoung smile like he means it again. If it takes going a little cold to keep him warm, then so be it.
After all, it’s better to be lonely with someone else than to be lonely alone, right?
Lonely (Are you lonely?)
Passion is crashing as we speak
He doesn’t have to wait long, catching the ghost of a smile on Doyoung’s lips as sneaks into his room a few days later. Yedam’s presence is unexpected but not unwelcome, if the way Doyoung lifts the covers for him to get in says anything. He’s quick to pull Doyoung into his embrace as soon as he’s comfortable, barely resisting the urge to press a kiss to his forehead in the process. He’s lonely, Yedam can tell, and it hurts his heart.
“What are you doing here, hyung?” Doyoung asks, a soft whisper that sends Yedam’s defenses crashing straight down.
“I noticed you seemed a little off earlier today, I thought you could use some company,” Yedam murmurs, equally as soft and tinged with ten times more love. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go.”
“No, don’t leave,” Doyoung whispers. His hand comes up to hold Yedam’s, oh—so—shyly guiding it to his waist and Yedam feels like he’s drowning, but it’s fine, the water’s warm anyway. “Hyung, I…”
You seem so lonely (Are you lonely?)
You're the ground my feet won't reach
“... I want you.” I know, I know, I know. Yedam can tell by the way Doyoung won’t meet his eyes, the way he bites the inside of his lip. Yedam is so, so tempted to lean in, kiss his sorrows away until the whole world has disappeared and it’s just the two of them. He could, and Doyoung wouldn’t resist him. He just has to take that one step, but neither of them are stable right now and taking any steps in this low gravity might mean their feet never touch the ground again.
Space is dangerous. They can’t drift off now, not until they have a sound shuttle at least.
So if you're lonely
Darling you're glowing
If you're lonely, come be lonely with me
“Sleep, Doyoung—ah. I’ll still be here in the morning.” He whispers, “Tell me then.”
Doyoung hums and buries himself deeper in Yedam’s embrace, too tired to protest. Yedam waits and watches as he falls asleep, finally relaxing in his arms and content for the first time in weeks. He’s glad his heart no longer races in Doyoung’s presence, or else it would have taken much longer to see him glow like this again.
That isn’t to say that Yedam no longer loves Doyoung, heavens no. It’s just that he’s grown past the infatuation that had collapsed the both of them when they had first met. Stars can be formed when molecular clouds collide with each other, sending shocked matter through said clouds and throwing off their thermodynamic equilibrium, triggering a collapse and the birth of a star cluster; and that’s how Yedam would describe their relationship.
They had been content on their own in the beginning, until one fateful meeting sent them into a spiral of tension and intrigue. They had been storming inside during their every meeting, emotions crumbling and reforming as they drew each other into their gravities. Now, they shine together, bright against the dark backdrop of their futures. It does get a little lonely being on separate teams sometimes, but just being able to see each other or sneak off to the studio to compose and be alone together makes it bearable.
Underneath the pale moonlight
Dreaming of a circus life
Yedam dreams that they’re dancing on the Han River that night. The moon, bright and tranquil, hangs low in the sky and provides a dance floor on the water for them; a pleasant break from the solar intensity of their mutual longing. Almost no words are exchanged, and the music they dance to is something he won’t remember upon waking, but that’s alright. All that matters is Doyoung smiling with that special sparkle in his eye that’s only for Yedam, leading him down the river with one hand in his and the other on his waist.
A carnival appears by the riverside after a while, and maybe it doesn’t make sense, but then again, dreams are never really supposed to.
Carousels and Ferris heights
I'll be yours if you'll be mine
Doyoung gives him a look and all of a sudden they’re in the carriage seat of a carousel running full speed ahead, fast enough that Yedam has to cling to Doyoung’s arm like the meek protagonist of a cliche romance drama, but it’s alright because Doyoung in his dream is laughing and holding him tight and the Doyoung in reality will never know what happens in Yedam’s dreams about him.
Another look and three words that Yedam only hears in his dreams and they’re at the top of a ferris wheel with the moon smiling down at them. Doyoung looks so gorgeous like this, bathed in pale light and watching the river below them. He lets Yedam curl up against his side as usual, pressing a kiss to his head in that shameless way he always does. Something feels different about this dream as they sit in silence, building and building as they ascend to the top of the wheel. Doyoung seems unaffected, so Yedam doesn’t speak on it. Better to keep this dream quiet than turn it into a nightmare.
It stays silent until the very top of the wheel, where it comes creaking to a stop. There, Doyoung says the only words that Yedam will remember when he wakes up.
“Hyung, I want you to be mine.” God, of course Yedam would be, there’s no universe where he wouldn’t. Still, to protect his heart, there’s one condition.
“I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine in return. Will you?”
Cause I'm lonely, I'm so lonely
If you hold me, I'll be your only
Yedam wakes up alone before he can get an answer. The sheets are still warm, and he wraps himself up in them to pretend like he had gotten one. Hmm, perhaps he’s lonelier than he first thought. Pondering his dream, a sudden burst of emotion catches him by surprise. All this time, all the hours in the studio, all the breakdowns on camera, all the soft words exchanged in darkness behind closed doors, even the few cheek kisses he had managed to push the limit of platonic for… He had already done everything needed for something to finally come out from this game of longing that they’ve been playing. Perhaps another collapse is needed, because Yedam’s star—shaped heart is growing heavy under the weight of his emotions and it’s going to break down into a supernova soon if they keep going like this.
Maybe it won’t be so bad if he does. Neutron stars sometimes remain and glow on after novas, so maybe he could move on and set Doyoung free if Venus decides to spare him. However, it’s the other possibility that he fears. Black holes are indiscriminate in their destruction, sucking in everything and warping them beyond recognition or salvation on their way down to hell knows where. Yedam has always considered himself a calm, rational person, but if things go wrong enough that he breaks… He doesn’t want to think about it.
Are you lonely? (Are you lonely?)
Our fingers dancing when they meet
The bed dipping behind him as Doyoung returns finally snaps him from his spiraling thoughts. He undoes Yedam’s cocoon of blankets to hold him properly, entwining his fingers with the hand that Yedam’s holding over his heart, warm and safe. Yedam could cry.
“Hyung, what’s wrong?”
Oh. he already is.
He can’t speak, scared that he’ll open his mouth and fifteen times the mass of the fucking planet earth’s worth of feelings are going to drop down on Doyoung, and he can’t do that to him. He just squeezes Doyoung’s hand a little tighter, hoping to convey the words that he can’t say.
“... Are you lonely, hyung?”
You seem so lonely (Are you lonely?)
I'll be the only dream you seek
Yes. God, yes. But that isn’t something he can say, not when Doyoung needs comfort more than him. He’ll keep Doyoung in his orbit, but only seek him out in his dreams. It’s better that way, safer for both of their hearts.
Still, Doyoung is insistent, sighing softly and pulling Yedam's back flush against his chest. He's so warm it shakes Yedam to the core, his fragile heart threatening to crack under the proximity. Please, stop… You can’t know how much I love you. I shouldn’t want you to love me back this badly...
So if you're lonely, no need to show me
If you're lonely, come be lonely with me
"You don't have to say anything, it's okay. I know." Doyoung whispers, his thumb gently caressing the back of Yedam's hand. "You've always been there for me when I'm feeling down. It's my turn now." It’s everything that Yedam needs to hear, the spark that he needs if he wants to keep burning, yet it pains him just as much as if Doyoung had violently spurned him. He whimpers in pain and Doyoung hums in sympathy, pressing a kiss to the junction between his shoulder and neck. “I’m sorry it took me so long, hyung. I’ve been scared, but you’ve given me the courage to finally tell you, I… I’m in love with you, hyung. I’m so sorry it took you being hurt for me to quit being so complacent.”
Yedam finally manages to breathe, ragged and stuttering. Every word, every little action that he had received from Doyoung since he had returned to him was a thundering rain cloud over the drought—ravaged riverbank of his heart that had been crumbling under the solar wrath of his yearning. Unaccustomed to the sudden rapids, his banks swell and burst, shattering the damn that had held back the tears he had been trying to stop. Doyoung holds him through the flood, whispering soft apologies and affirmations until he can calm down, let his love sink in and steady him.
“No fair,” Yedam chokes out, “I’m supposed to be the one holding you together when you’re hurting.”
“Not when you’re hurting more than me, hyung,” Doyoung murmurs. “I should have noticed sooner… Both your feelings and the way you’ve been falling apart for me.” He plays with Yedam’s hands as he speaks, melting him further.
“I hoped you wouldn’t, to be honest. I didn’t mind being lonely as long as I can be there for you.” The way Yedam clings to Doyoung’s hands greatly contrasts his words, and Doyoung sighs.
“That’s a lie and you know it,” Doyoung grumbles, though his voice holds no venom. “From now on, if you’re lonely, you have to come be lonely with me, okay? I want to love you more than I do now, to make up for me hurting you.”
Maybe it’s cheesy, maybe it doesn’t exactly eliminate Yedam’s problems at the root, but god, it’s just so Doyoung. The same Doyoung whose meteor showers of affection always seemed so distant and unattainable, but now have him bracing for impact. He always figured he would go down like Cassini, de—orbiting and confessing once he started to break down under his feelings and burning up in the atmosphere of Doyoung letting him down easily, but being knocked into romantic orbit by Doyoung’s own confession is decidedly much better.
“Okay. Let’s be lonely together, then.”
Are you lonely?
Passion is crashing as we speak
Enduring this god—forsaken competition becomes a little easier with Doyoung's light by his side after that night, if not more high—stakes. They already hide their friendship from the cameras well, and a relationship is no different; if anything they hide so well that their fans worry there was a falling out. If only they knew how much time the two lonely souls spent together, crashing into each other after spending the day apart. It’s getting to the point where Yedam worries he’s being a bother, but Doyoung always welcomes his clinging. Admittedly he’s gotten better at handling distance between them now that there's no risk of getting separated, but his touch is still an anchor after the absolute hell they had gone through together.
Like now, the night before their debut.
They’re in Yedam’s room this time, the door closed and locked against any knocking hyungs. Doyoung technically isn’t supposed to be here, but a pout and a few words about inspiration for a new song got him past Hyunsuk at the door easily. Yedam has half a mind to scold him for it, but Doyoung crashing onto his lips and lap easily extinguishes the words on the tip of his tongue. Like an asteroid getting dragged away from Earth by Jupiter, Yedam easily switches all his attention to Doyoung, his homework be damned.
He hadn’t realized how much he had missed kissing Doyoung, the tension of weeks of being too tired from practice and schoolwork and TMap filming and his own solo debut for anything other than a lingering hug finally bleeding from his shoulders. He sighs and Doyoung tilts his head just so, and all of a sudden he’s reeling from the impact of all the passion he didn’t know he had been repressing.
You seem so lonely
You're the ground my feet won't reach
Doyoung smirks against his lips, pulling back with a purr of “I knew you missed me.”
“S’lonely without you,” he huffs, meeting Doyoung’s self—satisfied grin with a half—lidded glare. He’s so close, Yedam can see the mini galaxies in his eyes. As if he couldn’t get any more gorgeous…
Doyoung kisses him again before he can think of anything else, cupping his face and disconnecting them from gravity just like how Yedam had longed to do months ago. They had kissed before; quick meteor—like moments stolen during precious seconds of unsupervised free time—bright, but never long enough to truly capture and savor. This, however, is an aurora: languid, intense, vibrant, and utterly breathtaking. Funny how just a press of the lips and the occasional swipe of a tongue will have Yedam so dazed that he can’t feel his feet reach the ground, clinging to Doyoung to ground himself, but then again it’s Doyoung , and Doyoung has impacted him in so many ways that their souls have become entwined, so there’s no use trying to resist.
So if you're lonely
Darling you're glowing
If you're lonely, come be lonely with me
They have to separate for air eventually, though they stay close in each other’s orbits, close enough that they can still feel the heat from each other’s atmospheres. Yedam drops his head onto Doyoung’s shoulder, his chest heavy with the hollow that’s no longer there. He has to collect his thoughts before he can bear to look at Doyoung again, connect the dots to form the constellation that is the epiphany he had finally come to realize in the past week of missing him. He presses a kiss to Doyoung’s neck for good luck, not missing the way his breath hitches as he does.
“Doyoung—ah.”
His pupils are blown wide when Yedam meets his gaze, glowing with anticipation and unadulterated love at the call of his name. He’s so bright that Yedam nearly falters until he remembers that he would probably see that same glow if he looked in the mirror.
“Damie—hyung?”
“You know, I’ve always loved thinking of myself as a star. Not just like an idol, but like a real star, up in space. My passion and dreams are my gravity, and it’s strong enough to generate my drive to be who I am now and improve that, my light and heat. I see everyone as stars, really, but you were one of the first to pull me into your orbit along with Hyunsuk—hyung and Jihoon—hyung. All of us, we’re orbiting around the same dream of debuting, our barycenter. You, though… We have our own, the one that I found the day I saw you leaning by yourself against the practice room wall. It was there the whole time, drawing us together. I think it was our shared loneliness, at first, but now it’s something different... ” Yedam pauses to lean forward and press his forehead against Doyoung’s so he’ll feel the weight of his next words. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m orbiting around how much I love you, Doyoung.”
Doyoung is blinking back tears at this point, his breath shaky and coming in sobs. Yedam watches him swallow, watches the way his tongue darts out to wet his kiss—swollen lips before he speaks.
“You don’t have to be lonely anymore, hyung. You’ve been there for me at my worst, and I promised I’d be there for yours. I know it took me a long time, and I should have loved you more than I did when I realized—”
“You didn’t—”
“—but now I finally understand. I know what true love is, and it’s the gravity that pulled me in, it’s the way you still keep shining even when your light is flickering and any normal person would have blown out by then. It’s the way you look at me when no one else is looking, the way you can never get your hands off me whenever I’m within reach. You may be orbiting around your love, but I’m getting bombarded by mine. Now I know how the moon felt, constantly getting hit by asteroids.”
A moment of silence passes between the two, the calm after a pair of supernovas. Twin neutron stars are left in their wake, tears streaming down their faces as they return to Earth, back down to two boys in YG’s idol dorms, one in the other’s lap. Yedam recovers first, pulling Doyoung the rest of the way down with a kiss. They both smile against each other’s lips, still exhilarated from their confessions. The exhaustion will catch up to them soon, but Yedam still has one last question.
Description: Everything in nature has a spirit, whether it is something as small as a budding flower or as big as the sun itself. Each spirit has a purpose to fulfill in their life, and they are to continue fulfilling it until they fade away along with their host. To most spirits, they are content with just this purpose. This purpose gives them the energy to continue on. There are a rare few who find this purpose draining, however, and they see no other reason for it other than to make their lives dull and stagnant. This is the story of a certain special ten who feel this way, and how they find another purpose that makes their lives worth living.
(Read on Ao3)
NOTE: This first chapter was written in 2018, long before WayV was formed and before The Everything that happened with a character in the ao3 tags who had yet to appear in this work besides in the introduction. This work itself is currently being revised, and this version is only still up for archival purposes
Park Jisung, the Moon spirit. His purpose is to keep the world alive while the sun sleeps. Loneliness is all he’s known, despite having the sea, the sunset, and the brightest star in the sky at his side. He doesn’t feel wanted by his friends, despite how much he really means to them. To him, he’s just there to help them with their problems, and he’ll leave when they are resolved. If he could just find someone to hold him down, to make him see just how much he affects the lives of others, maybe then he’ll find a reason to stay and keep shining as bright as he should.
Lee Jeno, a Star spirit. His purpose is to light the way for the other spirits at night on the nights where the moon cannot. His light puts every other star to shame, yet he still harbors a hidden darkness deep inside. His heart belongs to the ocean and the sunset, yet he only lets the beautiful parts of him shine. If he could just let himself be vulnerable and admit his faults without fear of being rejected, then he can realize that he would still be truly accepted, no matter what.
Na Jaemin, the Ocean spirit. His purpose is to help maintain the life that the sun and moon have created on earth. He spends his days watching the sun and clouds chase each other in a game of cat and mouse with their hearts, and he spends his nights pining after the sunset and a certain bright star. His heart has already been broken once, and he’ll be damned if he lets these two break it again, despite the fact that they would never dream of doing that. If only he could just realize that he will never see how they feel about him if he keeps holding his head high above them like he does, and he has to look down and see just how far they would be willing to go for him if he would just let them.
Huang Renjun, the Dusk spirit. His purpose is to help put the sun to sleep and wake up the moon every night. Every night he wakes up happily anticipating the sight of the two who have stolen his heart: the ocean and a blindingly bright star. But when the darkness falls, he goes to sleep frustrated at how they both evade his love, but he never tells just how much it tears him apart to have to say goodbye every night. If he could just find it in himself to let them know how he truly feels, then he could see just how much he means to the both of them.
Kim Jungwoo, the Earth spirit. His purpose is to provide the basis for the life that the sun and moon conjure up in this world. All his life, his only true company has been the forest. He envies the ocean, who has the moon, the sunset, and the brightest star in the sky at his side. He envies the sun and the clouds that seem to love each other by hating each other. Oh, how he wishes he could have something like that, if only he wasn’t so shy. If he could just find someone to break him out of his little shell, maybe then he could know what it feels like to truly live and be happy.
Qian Kun, a Forest spirit. His purpose is to provide a home and shelter to the animals that reside by the beach where this story takes place. He has the earth to keep him company, but he wishes they could both be welcomed in the company of the other spirits. One of the disadvantages of being unable to leave the cover of the trees, he guesses. If he could just see what he has inside what he considers a prison, then he could see that the life that stays inside his little bubble isn’t so bad after all, and he really isn’t missing out on true happiness.
Zhong Chenle, the Dawn spirit. His purpose is to put the moon to sleep and wake up the sun every morning. His laughter brightens the entire world, yet some days he feels that it isn’t genuine. Perhaps he is jealous of the fact that the sun has a cloud that spends almost every day with him or the fact that he wakes up to the sound of the moon and ocean laughing with each other, yet there is no moon to be found. Either way, he can feel himself losing his happy glow by the day, and it scares him more than he would like to admit. He wants to only feel the happiness that he brings to others, but he has to come to terms with the sadness in life before he can really be free and happy.
Lee Donghyuck, the Sun spirit. His purpose is to bring the flame that lights up an otherwise cold and dead universe. His light and warmth are supposed to bring both life and death to the world, yet he refuses to embrace the part of him that brings destruction. He is slowly starting to suffocate under his repressed destructive energy, and one day he will pay the price. But if he accepts both sides of himself before then, he will know what it is truly like to free and happy like he says he is.
Mark Lee, a Cloud spirit. His purpose is to protect the world from the sun on the days where his heat gets too overbearing. He cares deeply for the sun and would spend every day by his side, but some days he feels as if he is no longer wanted. They have been fighting more often, and on some days their fights bring on a rage from him that even the earth and ocean cower from in fear. If he could just see why his dear Sun is lashing out like this and bring himself down to help him, he wouldn’t have to fight so hard to keep his heart from being broken.
Wong Yukhei, a Wind spirit. His purpose is to breathe life into the world that the sun and moon have created. So far, he has been content with just going with the flow, never settling down for anything and just coming and going as he pleases. But deep down, he is getting tired of that free feeling. He wants someone to tie him down, to make him rethink his decisions if he ever leaves. Perhaps he will find it here, on this island the spirits reside on.
It is spring, the season of new beginnings. Unbeknownst to these ten, this will be the start of a story that will forever change their entire lives.
Jisung blinks awake from a dreamless sleep to Renjun roughly shaking him, almost shaking him out of the bed entirely. He bites back a curse as he opens his eyes and twists out of Renjun’s grasp. Right, the seasons are changing yet again. That meant he had to sacrifice more of his waking hours to try and get three lovestruck idiots together. Great. Absolutely wonderful. “Good evening hyung. Thanks for that oh-so-polite awakening,” he grumbles as he sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.
“You’re very welcome Jisungie. Now come on, you need to get up,” Renjun replies in a sweet, almost motherly tone. Jisung rolls his eyes and tosses the blankets aside onto his friend, who squawked in protest. The red light emanating from Renjun’s hair disappears under the sheets; and the walls of Jisung’s room go back to a soothing indigo, a welcome change from Renjun’s burning red.
“And you need to screw off,” Jisung grumbles, flicking the blankets back over Renjun’s head right as he untangled himself. The disgruntled moon spirit pushes himself up out of bed and grabbed a hairbrush from his bedside table, halfheartedly running it through his deep blue hair that started to glow softly as it becomes untangled. He stares blankly into a mirror on the wall beside his bed as he tried to make himself look presentable. He looks as if he is blending into the shadows in the room, the only thing giving away his presence being Renjun’s red light creating a silhouette for him. On nights of the new moon when he looked like this, barely visible if it weren’t for the light of his friends; Jisung wished he could just sleep in the whole night. Sure he still had his job to do, but there really isn’t any point if no one would notice him doing it, right? It’s funny, he’d only ever really been admired or appreciated during the full moon. Those are the nights where his bright silver hair outshines even Jeno’s, and the night crowds around him to watch him dance. Even though the attention could get a little suffocating at times, he would still prefer all that rather than be practically invisible. Renjun must have caught sight of his wistful expression, as his soft voice suddenly cut through Jisung’s melancholy thoughts.
“Jisungie, are you alright?” Renjun asks, placing a gentle hand on Jisung’s shoulder. The concern is apparent in his voice and expression, and the red glow of his hair dimmed down to the point where it was almost nonexistent.
“I’m fine. Just the normal New Moon mood swings,” Jisung sighed, brushing off his friend’s worries with a reassuring smile. That’s what Jisung had always told everyone, and it was true to some extent. The New Moon did make him feel a little less than appreciated at times, but sometimes he would feel even worse even if the moon was at its fullest. He had never known why he almost always felt so listless and tired, and he told himself that it’ll go away if he just sticks to what he’s supposed to do.
“I wish I could say I relate so I can help,” Renjun murmurs, giving Jisung a sympathetic smile, “But it’ll all be okay soon, the moon will come back and you can shine brightly again. And remember that I’m here to talk if you want me to, okay?”
“Yeah, I know. Seriously, don’t worry about it okay? This is normal for me,” Jisung reassured, giving Renjun his brightest smile and hoping it didn’t look too forced. He knew Renjun had good intentions, and he was truly grateful for it, but at the same time, he’d rather have his friend not care about him at all. It would make him feel less guilty if he left like he wanted to. Renjun already had his own problems with Jeno and Jaemin, and Jisung can’t imagine how he woke up to Mark and Donghyuck fighting almost every day. Perhaps it would be easier if he just stayed invisible. No one would notice if he faded away anyway.
Renjun just gave him another worried stare, but he lets the topic slide.
“Anyway, want to go meet Jeno and Jaemin? I’m sure they’ve been waiting to see you,” Jisung suggested, quickly changing the subject before it can get awkward. He knew that trying to help those three again tonight would only exhaust him more, but he did it anyway since he had nothing better to do.
Renjun’s smile (and hair) light up the room instantly, and Jisung doesn’t need to hear Renjun’s response to know the answer.
Fifteen minutes later, Renjun and Jisung make their way down to the beach, the glow of Renjun’s hair illuminating the path ahead of them.
“Hyung, your hair makes it look like we’re setting the forest on fire,” Jisung jokes, his previous sadness temporarily forgotten.
“It’s burning with my love for them,” Renjun sighs in reply, his eyes dancing with whatever daydream he’s having about the two.
Jisung rolls his eyes. Those three were all so whipped for each other, it was ridiculous. He stops when he sees a familiar figure standing at the beach, the water lapping up around their ankles.
“Jisungie! Renjun-hyung!” The figure calls, waving furiously to the two of them.
“Jaemin!” Renjun exclaims, running over to envelop the Ocean spirit in a hug, nearly bowling the two of them over. Jisung hears their joyous laughter from the edge of the forest where he stands, and he pushes back a wave of jealousy as he watched the two playfully wrestle in the tideline. Jaemin used to look at Jisung the same way he looked at Jeno and Renjun, and although that relationship had slowly burned out and ended with no hard feelings on either end, Jisung wishes he could still have a bond like that. Maybe it would help him feel less lonely.
“Jaemin-hyung! How have you been?” Jisung called as Renjun and Jaemin eventually separate, hoping that the exhaustion in his voice isn’t too evident. He makes his way down the sand towards the two, stopping a safe distance away from them in case they still weren’t done with each other.
“I’ve missed you.” Jaemin murmurs as he stands up to face Jisung, warmth spreading into his voice. “You don’t come around as often as you used to.” The Ocean spirit opens his arms for a hug, flashing the Moon spirit a dazzling smile. Jisung hesitates, dropping his gaze to hide his tired eyes. ‘If only you knew why...’ He thought to himself.
“Come on Jisungie, for old time’s sake~?” Jaemin pleads, and Jisung is unable to resist despite his exhausted reluctance. He rushes forward and all but collapses into his friend’s arms, ignoring the cold water splashing up around his feet.
“Sorry I haven’t been able to come to see you lately. I’ve had... Other issues,” he muttered, his embrace going slack as Jaemin hugged him tighter. He silently curses himself for making his feelings so obvious. Jaemin had been the first to know about the creeping melancholy that had slowly taken hold in Jisung’s life, and it makes Jisung want nothing more than to just leave.
“Jisungie, you’ve got to tell me when you’re feeling like this. I still do love you, you know. I don’t want you to be unhappy.” Jaemin subtly motions behind Jisung’s back for Renjun to join them as he spoke. “Tell me what’s been on your mind, Renjun and I will listen,” he urges.
“I-it’s nothing, really. I just...” Jisung bit his lip to hold back his tears as Renjun hugged him from behind. He hesitated for a long while trying to find the right words to express himself without making the atmosphere too depressive. He hated it when his friends find out about his hidden sadness; it always made everything after feel so heavy, and he wound up making them help him instead of the other way around like it should be. “I... It’s been feeling a little cold lately,” he finally chokes out, silver tears slipping down his face.
Renjun knew full well what he meant, and he hugged Jisung tighter in response. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he murmurs.
“We’ll always be here for you Jisung. Even if you feel like there is no one on your side, we’ll be here for you,” Jaemin adds, holding Jisung close to his chest as he starts to cry.
Silver drops fall and mix with the water as Jisung’s pent-up emotions finally come spilling out, and he is thankful that Jaemin’s tight grip keeps him upright. He stays there in his friend’s embrace for what feels like hours, and when he finally calms down, he notices that Jeno has joined their embrace as well.
“Hi, Jisung. Are you alright? I came to meet you all just like you said but then I came and saw you crying, so I-“ Jeno is cut off by Jisung, who waves him off.
“It’s fine, really. You three can go on without me, I’m going to rest.” Jisung murmurs, ignoring Jaemin’s concerned protest. He gently pushes him away towards Jeno and Renjun, urging him to talk to the other two as he leaves. “Seriously, I’m fine. You guys just stay with each other, I’ll be back. I promise.” He insists, walking off before any of the three can say anything. He turns around when he reaches just beyond the treeline, and he can see that the three of them have followed his advice and are now talking to each other. ‘Better for them to be with each other than be worrying about me.’ He thinks to himself as he continues down the path through the forest.
His emotional outburst had left him drained, and he wants nothing but to just go home and sleep. It wouldn’t matter if he slept before the Dawn spirit came to put him to bed anyway since he had always passed out before they even arrived for as long as he can remember. He knows it isn’t good, but no one seemed to notice, so he’d keep doing it until someone noticed and stopped him. His steps take him deep into the forest past his house tonight, and despite how contradictory it sounds, he feels welcomed by the sense of loneliness that settles over him.
‘Maybe tonight I’ll just let the forest swallow me up... Surely no one would care if I disappeared, right?’ He thinks to himself, although he quickly shakes that thought away. ‘No, I can’t think like that. Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin still need me... Heaven knows they’ll die before they confess without my help...’ Despite how much he loves his friends, he still wishes he didn’t feel so used by them. He knows they all love him dearly, but there’s always a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him that he isn’t really needed by them, and once they have their issues solved, they’ll just leave him.
He tips his head back and heaves a long sigh, staring up at the starry sky. He can hear the faint laughter of the other star spirits as they dance, and the soft voice of the Sky spirit singing along as they light up their stage. On another night, he might join them up there on that stage, but not tonight. The moon is hidden behind a dark mask tonight, so he’d never be noticed among all those shining lights. He is thankful for the shorter nights of the changing seasons this time. Normally he’d hate how he has less time to dance and show off to everyone, but now he’s a little happy that he has less time to be awake to deal with his and his friend’s problems.
‘Jaemin would probably have been willing to dance with me... At least, before Jeno and Renjun...’ He thinks to himself. He instantly regrets that thought though, as all the happy memories from their past love come flooding back into his mind, and he wants nothing more than to just close his eyes and forget them all. Don’t get him wrong, he isn’t bitter in any sense about their relationship ending. He had been starting to lose his feelings for Jaemin a while into their relatively casual relationship, and the creeping sadness inside his heart had gradually made it harder and harder to keep loving him while still loving himself. Jaemin had been completely understanding when Jisung had approached him about ending their relationship, and he promised to stay beside his side platonically until Jisung found someone else to make him happy and keep the darkness out of his heart.
But still, Jisung still wishes to have that connection with someone. It really doesn’t matter who at this point, he guesses. He just wants someone to take the pain away. Although, that would be even worse for him in the long run.
He is jolted out of his thoughts when he missteps and falls down a short cliff onto another beach. ‘Since when did I-‘ His train of thought is stopped completely when he looks up and finds himself in a completely unfamiliar area. ‘Did I just... Cross this entire island!?’ He thinks to himself, scanning the area for anything that he might recognize. He sees nothing familiar, and he freezes in fear. He really shouldn’t be scared though, since Jaemin would always be able to find him even all the way out here, but still. He can see the sky getting lighter in the distance, and it isn’t Renjun’s fiery red. Dawn is coming.
He feels even more nervous when he’s faced with the fact that he managed to cross the entire island in one night, and now he’s stayed up long enough to meet the one person that he still hasn’t met, despite their inherent need to be connected. He highly doubts that the Dawn spirit will be happy with him avoiding them for as long as he can remember. It’s not like he could really help falling asleep before they get the chance to put him to bed like they should, but he doubts that they will listen if he tells them.
His fears are confirmed when he hears faint singing coming from somewhere in the distance, and he frantically looks around for a place to hide. He had long forgotten the route he had taken to get here, and he wasn’t in the mood to try and call Jaemin over to save him now. He spots a cave a short distance away, and sprints across the sand to avoid the oncoming Dawn.
As soon as he enters the mouth of the cave, he nearly breaks his legs stumbling over the rocks at the entrance (If it were even possible to break his legs in the first place). For once, he curses the darkness that surrounds him for hindering his way as he runs further and further in. He would find his way out later, now he just cares about hiding and possibly never coming out.
He finally stops after about five minutes of running blindly through the darkness, crashing to a halt at a sudden opening in the cave tunnels. He looks up to see a small opening in the roof, just big enough to hold the image of the full moon if it had been shining tonight. The faint glow of the stars above illuminates the surprisingly clean cavern, which has a perfectly circular spring of clear water in the dead center underneath the opening in the roof. He approaches the spring with caution, noticing that there is a sort of path leading towards it. Nothing too obvious, but he can tell by how worn the stone is that someone has been coming here for a long time. A quick glance behind him tells that whoever it is hasn’t arrived tonight, and he turns back to the spring and is surprised by how still the water is. Despite the opening in the roof and his rough entrance that surely jostled the entire cave system, the water hasn’t moved at all. He can see small crystals forming intricate patterns at the bottom and the sides of the spring, and if he focuses, his reflection stares back up at him in the water.
‘Have I always looked this tired?’ He thinks to himself, reaching out a slightly trembling hand to touch his reflected self in the cold water. He’s surprised he hadn’t noticed how drained he looks sooner. He feels bad for Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun for having to see this exhausted version of him every night. He always tends to look a little tired during the waning moon, when his body can’t take any more of his exhausting performances every night, but this is different. Worse. There are dark circles under his sunken eyes, and there are silver streaks tracing down his face from his earlier tears. His hair is dull and messy despite his attempts to keep it neat, and his cheeks are pale and hollow. He can barely recognize himself reflected in the clear water, and he can’t help but sigh at how far he’s fallen from grace.
“Pretty, isn’t it? I was really amazed when I first saw it too.”
An unknown voice breaks through his thoughts from the entrance of the cavern, and Jisung nearly jumps out of his skin.
He whips around to see no one other than the Dawn spirit smiling cheerfully down at him.
Description: Lee Jaehwan, a lonely time god, wanders the city looking for something. He doesn't even know what he's searching for, but he'll know he's found it when he does.
(Read on AO3)
Jaehwan wanders aimlessly about the city in an attempt to alleviate the heavy feeling in his chest.
Being a god of time had its perks, what with being immortal and having the ability to stop, turn back, or speed up time at will with no repercussions. The immortality could get to be a drag sometimes though, as Jaehwan had to watch as everything he loved eventually wither away, and even if he froze time to preserve them, they would just remain frozen until Jaehwan lets time move again. There are other time gods around, but he hasn’t encountered any in his long life, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure how he’d interact with them.
Jaehwan sighs deeply as he approaches the entrance to a park, deciding that maybe a change of scenery from the cold gray buildings would be enough to cheer him up. Despite it being a rather dark and cloudy day, the flowers in the park are still bright and cheerful with all their happy colors. Jaehwan glances up as he turns in to the entrance and is instantly met with the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.
Perhaps it’s just Jaehwan being hopeful, but he swears he sees the man give him a knowing smile before he passes by. Jaehwan turns to look, but the man has already disappeared. He bites back a disappointed sigh as he continues into the park. That man was probably mortal anyway, and even if Jaehwan had been able to get his attention, he would live as if nothing changed while the man continued to age and eventually died, leaving Jaehwan lonely all over again.
“I guess there’s really nothing I can do,” Jaehwan mutters to himself, sitting down on a bench in the center of the park. The flowers around him are certainly beautiful, but they simply cannot compare to the image of that man’s smile which remains in Jaehwan’s mind. He leans his head back in frustration, closing his eyes so tightly that he sees stars in an attempt to get that man out of his head.
When he opens his eyes again, he instantly feels as if something is wrong. He no longer feels the wind in his hair, the sweet scent of the flowers has disappeared, and all the sounds of the surrounding city no longer ring in his ears. He straightens up and looks around the park. Everything has stopped in its tracks, and no one seems to be aware of this. Time has stopped. Jaehwan blinks in confusion; this wasn’t his doing.
“Another time god?” Jaehwan murmurs to himself, standing up and walking out of the park. Every person he passes is completely frozen, and Jaehwan begins to doubt he’ll be able to find the other time god who did this as he reaches the top of a bridge close to the city center. His thoughts are stopped when he sees another man crossing the bridge towards him.
“Oh, I didn’t expect to see another one of us here! I’m Lee Jaehwan, what’s your name?” Jaehwan says in a cheerful tone as the man approaches.
“Taekwoon.” The man replies, his high voice taking Jaehwan by surprise. “I thought I was the only time god in this city.” Taekwoon continues, leaning on the edge of the bridge’s railing to look out at the river beneath them.
“Did you do this?” Jaehwan asks, mirroring Taekwoon’s gesture.
“I did. Something’s missing from my life and I’m tired of waiting for it to come to me, so I intend on finding it.” Taekwoon replies, not meeting Jaehwan’s gaze as he pushes himself upright and starts walking down the bridge.
“Mind if I tag along? I’m looking for something too, and I could use some company from another one of us.” Jaehwan asks, following Taekwoon like a lost puppy.
“I don’t mind. Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for as well.” Taekwoon replies. His words bring images of that mysterious man to Jaehwan’s mind, and he falters for a second before agreeing.
The two of them continue down the bridge in silence, both watching their surroundings for movement. Jaehwan breaks the silence after a few minutes, his voice echoing slightly as they enter a narrow alley.
“What exactly are you looking for, if it isn’t too much to ask?” He asks, pressing a little closer to Taekwoon as the walls of the alley close in on the two of them.
Taekwoon remains silent for a moment, his expression guarded as he gathers his response.
“I’ve just been feeling... Empty these days. I feel like I’ve just been drifting around with no purpose, and no one has been able to stay with me for long. Well, until now I guess, but I still feel as if something’s missing.” Taekwoon replies.
“Funny, that’s just how I’ve been feeling,” Jaehwan says, his lips curling into a sad smile. “It’s lonely, being like this. Even someone as cute as me can’t have someone for long.” He adds with an exaggerated pout.
Taekwoon rolls his eyes at Jaehwan’s childishness, but he still smiles in agreement. “That’s why I’ve decided to find this missing piece. I have all the time in the world to look, after all.” He says, stopping short when he spots movement at the other end of the alley.
“Something’s moving? Who’s there?” Jaehwan asks, hiding behind Taekwoon.
“Hey Binnie-hyung, I think we found more time gods!” A loud voice calls from the stranger at the other end.
“More? How many time gods are even in this city?” Another voice replies. This one is a little softer, but still had the same amount of energy as the first.
Taekwoon starts off towards the pair, Jaehwan following behind him.
“Hey! Did either of you freeze the city?” The first man calls, waving to Jaehwan and Taekwoon.
“I did,” Taekwoon replies softly, eyeing the two with a strange interest. Jaehwan sees a hint of an emotion flash across Taekwoon’s eyes when he notices the two stranger’s entwined hands, but he is unable to determine what it is.
“Well I’ve got to thank you for that, you helped me meet Binnie-hyung here!” The first stranger continues, gesturing to the man beside him.
The man is young, Jaehwan notes, barely out of his teenage years, it would seem. Jaehwan turns his attention to the stranger’s partner, the one he called “Binnie-hyung”. He seems a little older than the first man but younger than Jaehwan. He smiles brightly at Jaehwan and Taekwoon, exposing adorable dimples that made Jaehwan just want to squish his cheeks. Something in his soft doe eyes makes Jaehwan restrain himself, however, as they have a glint in them that reminds him of a fox; cute yet plotting.
“The name’s Han Sanghyuk, it’s nice to meet you!” The first man’s voice cuts through Jaehwan’s thoughts and he looks back to see Sanghyuk extending a hand to him and Taekwoon.
“Taekwoon,” Taekwoon mutters, shaking Sanghyuk’s hand. Perhaps Jaehwan is seeing things, but he swears there is a hint of bitterness in Taekwoon’s voice when he looks at Sanghyuk’s partner.
“I’m Lee Jaehwan! Are you guys looking for something too?” Jaehwan asks as he shakes Sanghyuk’s hand.
“Well, we were, but I think we might have found it already.” Sanghyuk’s partner says, glancing at Sanghyuk with a fond expression. “I’m Lee Hongbin by the way.”
“Aw man, you guys are lucky! Taekwoon and I are still looking. For what, I have no idea, but we’ve been running around all over the place looking for it.” Jaehwan exclaims, whining as he speaks the last sentence.
“Maybe we can help you look. Besides, it’s not every day that you find three other time gods in the same city as you.” Sanghyuk suggests.
“Sure! The more the merrier, right?” Jaehwan says, looking to Taekwoon for approval.
Taekwoon eyes Sanghyuk and Hongbin for an excruciatingly long moment, his expression unreadable. If time hadn’t already been frozen, Jaehwan would have thought it had as he waits for Taekwoon’s answer. Jaehwan begins to worry that Taekwoon might refuse since Taekwoon seems to be a very quiet and introverted person, while Sanghyuk, Hongbin, and himself are... Quite the opposite.
“I don’t see why not. Come on.” Taekwoon finally murmurs, walking ahead of the group through the alley.
“Alright! The party’s officially started!” Jaehwan cheers, hopping around in excitement.
“Sweet! It’ll be like a treasure hunt!” Sanghyuk adds, grabbing Hongbin’s arm and jumping along next to Jaehwan.
Hongbin shoots both of them a judgemental look, his eyes meeting Taekwoon’s. They seem to have a moment of “I can’t believe I’m stuck with these two” before Jaehwan and Sanghyuk calm down.
A few hours later, the group stops at the pier to rest.
“Man, we haven’t found anyone else here! Are we even looking for other time gods or is are you guys just looking for some hidden item here?” Sanghyuk complains, dramatically flopping down on a bench.
“We’ll know what it is when we find it. Finding other time gods was just a bonus.” Taekwoon murmurs, looking out at the water.
“Should we all just split up then?” Hongbin suggests, sitting down next to Sanghyuk. “We can all meet up somewhere when you find what you’re looking for or something.”
“That actually sounds like a good idea. Where should we meet up?” Jaehwan asks, perking up at Hongbin’s suggestion.
“There’s a fountain close to the center of the city. We can all meet up there and then just go on with our lives or something.” Hongbin says with a shrug.
“What say you, o fearless leader?” Jaehwan asks, looking to Taekwoon.
“Sure. I won’t have to deal with you all if we split up.” Taekwoon murmurs, his eyes alight with dry humor.
“Yah! You’re so mean, hyung!” Sanghyuk exclaims, much like a petulant child.
“Well, I’d best get going. I’ll meet you all later.” Taekwoon says, acting as if Sanghyuk had never said anything. Jaehwan waves to him as he walks off along the docks, turning back to Hongbin and Sanghyuk with a sigh as soon as Taekwoon is out of earshot.
“Don’t worry about him. He seems like a grouchy grandpa cat, but he’s really just a little hamster.” Jaehwan says reassuringly. He hasn’t really known Taekwoon for that long, but he has gotten quite good at reading people in his lifetime, and he is confident that he knows Taekwoon well enough to say these kinds of things.
“A hamster with a nasty bite, that’s for sure.” Sanghyuk jokes.
“Yeah, you have to watch your fingers around him. He might bite them off.” Jaehwan adds with a laugh. “Well, I should get going too. I promise I won’t keep you waiting for long!” He says, getting up to leave after a moment.
“See you later hyung!” Sanghyuk calls after him, and Jaehwan waves in response.
He takes off in the opposite direction Taekwoon went, deciding to make his way back into the city towards the park he was in earlier. He hopes to see that beautiful man from before, even going so far to think that he may be a time god as well considering how his day had gone so far. He swears up and down that the man had given him a smile before disappearing, and the glint in his eye suggested that the man had known exactly what Jaehwan was. Of course, Jaehwan might just have been imagining things, but he thought it couldn’t hurt to dream a little.
As he approaches the park, Jaehwan can pick up the faint sound of someone singing. His heart picks up slightly because that voice must surely belong to an angel. He is too far away to make out any lyrics, but the song sounds soft and sweet, like something one would use to serenade their lover while standing under their window at night to lull them to sleep. Jaehwan finds himself mesmerized, drawing closer to the source of the angelic voice until he steps into the center of the park and stops dead in his tracks. Standing in front of him is the man from before who has now completely captured Jaehwan’s heart as he continues to sing, oblivious to Jaehwan’s presence.
“Saying ‘I love you’ with words might not be enough, but I still want to confess to you today.” The words slip from the man’s mouth, pulling Jaehwan’s heartstrings with every syllable. “I wanna be with you, always a step behind you. Don’t forget there’s a person who will protect you.”
Jaehwan finds himself softly harmonizing with the beautiful stranger, who remains unaware of his secret admirer. The song ends far too soon for Jaehwan, and he finds himself wishing that he could let this moment replay forever. It wouldn’t work, however, as the stranger turns around to see Jaehwan standing stunned like a deer in the headlights.
“Oh! I didn’t realize you were there! How was my little performance?” The stranger asks in a flirtatious tone, picking up on the fact that Jaehwan is just standing there in a lovestruck daze.
“It was absolutely stunning. I would ask if you were a time god as well, but I think you’re more of an angel.” Jaehwan replies, only half aware of what he’s saying as he’s too busy staring at the man in front of him. The man who had stolen his heart then noticed him, then finally also happened to be a time god as well. Jaehwan believed himself to be the luckiest man on earth as a smile spreads across the man’s face, a smile so dazzling that the sun and stars seemed to hide in shame.
“Why thank you, handsome stranger. I do happen to be a time god, I thought I was the only one here.” The man says, starting to approach Jaehwan. “My name is Cha Hakyeon. May I be so blessed as to hear yours?” He asks, and Jaehwan feels as if he may collapse.
“L-Lee Jaehwan. Your name is beautiful. It suits you. I mean, of course, it does since it’s your name, but it’s just a pretty name. Just as pretty as you.” Jaehwan stutters out, a hot blush creeping up his face. ‘I must look like such an idiot.’ He thinks to himself as Hakyeon laughs. He suddenly doesn’t mind, as he would do anything to hear Hakyeon’s laugh again.
“You have a beautiful name as well. It’s just as cute as you.” Hakyeon says, and Jaehwan feels himself go weak in the knees. “I must ask, are you the one who froze this city? I don’t mind since I got to practice this song, but I just want to know.” Hakyeon continues.
“No, someone else did. They were looking for something, just like I was.” Jaehwan says, snapping back to attention.
“Looking for something? May I ask what?” Hakyeon asks, tilting his head in curiosity.
“I’m not quite sure. Something to fill this lonely feeling that we both have,” Jaehwan says, stopping to correct himself. “Well, this feeling that I used to have. I think I’ve found what I’m looking for,” He says, smiling up at Hayeon.
Hakyeon takes a moment to process Jaehwan’s words before a blush slowly creeps up his face. “Have you been looking for... Me?” He asks, staring at Jaehwan in disbelief.
“Well, kind of. I’ve been looking for something or someone to get rid of this lonely feeling, and I think I’ve found that someone.” Jaehwan says, shyly looking away. “I’ll be honest, I was kind of hoping it would be you. I saw you smile at me earlier, or at least I think you did, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though I thought you were just a normal human and I was trying not to get my hopes up but then here you are, and I’m rambling aren’t I...” He can feel a blush creeping up his face as he continues talking despite his mind screaming at him to stop.
Hakyeon is silent for a moment that seems to stretch on forever as he processes Jaehwan’s almost unnaturally fast rambling. Jaehwan nervously scratches the back of his neck, waiting for Hakyeon to answer.
“You just described all my feelings in one ramble.” Hakyeon finally says. “And I don’t mind your rambling, I think it’s cute. Just like the rest of you.” He continues.
“I- wait, you seriously- you feel-“ Jaehwan stammers, unable to form his thoughts into a coherent sentence.
“Yes, I think you’re my missing piece. It would be safe to say that I’m your missing piece, so it would only make sense.” Hakyeon explains, his lips parting with a soft laugh.
“Am I in heaven?” Jaehwan mutters, mostly to himself. Hakyeon laughs at this and Jaehwan nearly tackles him in a hug. “I must be if the most beautiful man in the world actually feels the same way as I do!” He squeals, jumping around in circles while clinging to Hakyeon.
Hakyeon breathlessly joins Jaehwan in his frantic jumping around, laughing and holding him tight. “The same could be said for you, you’re so cute I could mistake you for a precious puppy.” He coos as Jaehwan calms down.
“Of course you could, I’m just the cutest time god to ever exist!” Jaehwan boasts jokingly. “I can’t wait to have you meet the others, I promised I wouldn’t keep them waiting!” He gushes, hugging Hakyeon tight to his chest.
“Wait, the others? There are even more time gods here?” Hakyeon asks, pulling back from Jaehwan’s embrace to look him in the eye.
“Yeah, I met like three more others before I met you. It’s crazy, you’d think this city is just populated by time gods or something!” Jaehwan says, releasing Hakyeon and taking his hands in his own. “I agreed to meet them at the center of the city when I found what I was looking for. Will you come with me?” He asks, looking into Hakyeon’s eyes with a hopeful puppy dog look.
Hakyeon visibly melts at Jaehwan’s expression, getting lost in Jaehwan’s puppy eyes for a second before he agrees.
Taekwoon is nowhere to be found when Jaehwan and Hakyeon arrive at the fountain, and it is obvious that Hongbin and Sanghyuk have been waiting for a long time judging by Sanghyuk’s dramatic whining.
“Yah, you took forever hyung! I thought you promised not to keep us waiting!” Sanghyuk whines, sprawled on top of the fountain’s wall.
“Another time god? How many are there in this city!” Hongbin exclaims, taking notice of Hakyeon.
“A lot, apparently. Jaehwannie tells me you all have another companion?” Hakyeon asks.
“Yeah, but he’s been gone for who knows how long. He’s the one who froze this city in the first place.” Sanghyuk explains.
“I see. He’ll come here once he’s found whoever or whatever he’s looking for, right?” Hakyeon asks.
“That’s what we agreed on. He’s the one who froze the city, so he has to keep his promise either way.” Hongbin says with a shrug.
“Anyway, this is Cha Hakyeon! He’s my missing piece.” Jaehwan coos, clinging to Hakyeon’s arm and resting his head on his shoulder.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lee Hongbin. This is Han Sanghyuk, my missing piece if we’re referring to each other like that.” Hongbin says, extending a hand to Hakyeon.
“My pleasure. So we all met through this one person’s time-freeze?” Hakyeon asks.
“Pretty much, yeah. I’ve got to remember to thank him for that.” Jaehwan says, nuzzling into Hakyeon’s side.
It would be another three hours before Taekwoon finally returned with yet another time god by the name of Kim Wonshik at his side.
“How many time gods even live in this city!?” Wonshik had exclaimed upon meeting the others.
“It really is a small world. At this point, we might as well just stick with each other now that we’ve all found each other.” Hakyeon suggests.
“That’s a great idea! We can probably form a band or something!” Sanghyuk jokes.
“Nothing’s really stopping us. I think Vixx would be a cool name.” Hongbin adds.
“Yeah! Vixx for the win!” Jaehwan exclaims excitedly as Taekwoon lets time flow again.
As the city resumes life as if nothing happened, a friendship to last for eternity bloomed to life at its heart.
Description: Wonshik becomes a cyborg to bring back his dead lover Taekwoon, focusing only on him even as their friends succumb to the same illness that took Taekwoon's life. He has become a cold machine, focusing on only Taekwoon and feeling only for Taekwoon. It's all for him, it always was.
(Read on Ao3)
Wonshik’s circuits whir to life in the brightly lit laboratory, his eyes blinking on as his body warms up. He sluggishly gets up and lifts his head, his eyes landing on the skeletal robot body in front of him.
Taekwoon is still as beautiful as the day Wonshik first laid eyes on him, even though his blue glass robotic eyes no longer carry the light that once illuminated his life and his cold metal face remains blank and expressionless, even more than it was when he was alive. Before, Wonshik was still able to tell what was on Taekwoon’s mind by reading the subtle signals of his face: A twitch of his jaw here, a slight eye-roll there. Now there was no expression to read, just a lifeless, mechanical husk.
It's been three months since the incident. Wonshik had returned home to find Taekwoon lying motionless and deathly cold on their shared bed, claimed by the sickness that had swept the nation. Since then, Wonshik had fully dedicated himself to bringing his lover back to life. His transformation from flesh to metal had been excruciating, having his organs and limbs slowly replaced with cold steel and wires until his body became a cold, almost completely unfeeling machine. The only thing he focused on after was bringing Taekwoon back. It was all for him. Even as Hakyeon, Jaehwan, Sanghyuk, and finally Hongbin had been taken by the sickness, Wonshik only set up empty frames for them. He would fix the others later. The only one who currently mattered was Taekwoon. He never became tired, only stopping to fix one of his own limbs or let himself recharge. Nothing else mattered. It was for Taekwoon. Just Taekwoon. Only for Taekwoon.
It would be another six months until Wonshik completed his work. Taekwoon’s eyes blinked to life, a soft hum emitting from his circuits as his systems booted up. But something was wrong.
“Hyung.” Wonshik murmurs, gently bringing a hand up to caress Taekwoon’s face. Taekwoon only follows Wonshik’s movements with his eyes, meeting his gaze with a blank expression. “Taekwoon-ah. Do you remember anything?” Wonshik continues, tucking Taekwoon’s unruly bangs out of his face. Taekwoon responds with silence, a shadow of confusion flicking through his eyes for a second. Before Wonshik can say anything, an ‘Error’ message appears on the computer that Taekwoon is connected to. Wonshik goes to check, his eyes not leaving Taekwoon, who doesn’t leave the platform and just watches Wonshik.
“I need memories.” Wonshik murmurs to himself, realizing his mistake. Taekwoon remains unresponsive because there are no memories for his AI to go off of. Wonshik curses himself for making such a foolish mistake. He had been able to function just fine because he had made his transition while he was alive, and he could remember everything just fine. But there is no way to retrieve memories from a dead man, and even if there were, Taekwoon had been dead for far too long to attempt anything like that. There was another option, although it should only be a last resort as it would surely mean the authorities would come crashing through the door. That option would be for Wonshik to implant his own memories of Taekwoon into him and leave the AI to sort out the rest. Wonshik grapples with the idea for a moment as he holds Taekwoon’s body in his arms, a body that is now alive but not alive. All he wants is to have his Taekwoon back, and for that, he’d do anything.
He makes up his mind as he releases Taekwoon and walks over the computer, which still has his memories implanted in it from before he became robotic. He pulls up the tab and types in the command to insert the memories, guiding Taekwoon to sit down in front of the device that would give him the memories needed to be truly alive again. The machine beeps to signal that it is ready for the memory implant. Wonshik pulls the machine over Taekwoon’s head and presses the button, waiting with bated breath that he doesn't need as the images flash in front of Taekwoon’s eyes.
Wonshik cautiously lifts up the machine when it beeps again, nervous energy making his hands shake slightly as he puts it down. His electronic heart leaps in his chest when Taekwoon looks up to meet his gaze. His eyes are now filled with the light that Wonshik loves so much, and his heart soars in relief when Taekwoon all but leaps out of the chair to hug him.
“Taekwoon… You're back…” Wonshik murmurs, forgetting about honorifics in his ecstatic relief. He holds Taekwoon tight as if he might lose him again. He fears he might, as the authorities are connected to his computer and can tell when he's used his own memories more than once. He gazes at the door, all sorts of horrible scenarios paying out in his mind.
“Wonshik. Relax.” Taekwoon’s soft voice cuts through Wonshik’s thoughts, bringing his attention back to reality. “Even after we've come back from the dead, I can still tell if something’s on your mind.” Wonshik smiles at those words. Taekwoon had always been able to read him so easily.
“You’re right. You’re back, and that’s all that matters.” Wonshik replies, pulling back from the hug to hold Taekwoon’s face and pull him into a tender kiss. Taekwoon’s lips move against his own in a way that he sorely missed, reigniting feelings that Wonshik thought had been long buried. He breaks the kiss after a long moment, resting his head against Taekwoon’s. “I missed you.” He whispers, gazing into Taekwoon’s enchanting ice blue eyes. Taekwoon holds his gaze with a soft smile until his eyes flick over to the four empty frames hanging against the far wall.
“Where are the others?” Taekwoon asks, pulling back from Wonshik’s embrace to investigate the frames.
“They’re gone… After you died, they all went soon after…” Wonshik says, his gaze dropping to hide his grief. “I promised I would bring them all back too, but I had to get you back first.” He continues, watching Taekwoon’s face change from grief to cautious hope. “I promised I would make it so we’d all be able to see each other again.” Taekwoon smiles at this and gladly accepts Wonshik’s embrace, burying his face in Wonshik’s collar. There is no need for words, as their embrace tells all the words that they need to express.
“I’m home.” “I missed you.” “I’m sorry it took so long.” “I love you.”
Before either of them can do anything else, there is a harsh knocking on the door followed by five agents in black bursting through. Wonshik pulls Taekwoon tight to his chest to protect him, but four of the agents forcefully pull them apart, two restraining each of them while the fifth pulls out a three-inch-long needle connected to a small monitor.
Wonshik watches as the agent drives the needle into the back of Taekwoon’s neck with enough force to disable his movements and cause his entire system to trip for a split second, shown in the rapid flashing of his eyes.
“Stop! Let go of him!” Wonshik shouts, struggling against the agents holding him. He doesn’t dare do anything while the needle is still buried in Taekwoon’s neck lest the agent twist it the wrong way and break anything, but the sight of Taekwoon being held motionless while the monitor scans through his systems is a sight that Wonshik can hardly bear. The agent pulls out the needle after a minute that feels like an eternity, staring at the monitor that blares an angry tone throughout the laboratory. The noise alone is enough to let Wonshik know that his efforts have been for naught, as the agent signals for the two holding Taekwoon to take him away with a disapproving glare sent in Wonshik’s direction.
The agent’s rough handling jolts Taekwoon back to reality, and he looks back at Wonshik in desperation as he is being dragged away, still too weak to fight back. Something snaps inside Wonshik at the sight, and he throws the agents holding him aside with enough force to knock over his desk and one of the empty frames hanging from the wall behind him. He sprints at the remaining agents, tearing them away from Taekwoon and throwing the lead agent into the far wall. He grabs Taekwoon’s wrist and takes off further into the laboratory, hastily punching in a code in a hidden panel in the wall.
“Wonshik, what-” Taekwoon starts, but is cut off by Wonshik.
“I had to bring you back. I used my own memories.” Wonshik admits, refusing to meet Taekwoon’s gaze as he pulls him into the secret passage that opens up next to them. “Come on!”
“Wonshik, that’s-”
“Illegal, I know. It doesn’t matter, it was for you.” Wonshik says, closing the door behind them and guiding Taekwoon to another large machine with six gigantic wires resembling power cords attached to it. “I made a promise. I intend to keep it.”
“You didn’t have to do all that for me… Surely you could have found someone else, right?” Taekwoon asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he sinks to the ground against the machine.
“No, I never could. I only love you.” Wonshik murmurs, rushing to Taekwoon’s side. He caresses Taekwoon’s cheek, guiding him to look up at him. “I did this because I wanted to be with you again. Screw the consequences.” He says, leaning in to kiss Taekwoon when he doesn’t get a response.
“But you’ve been found out. What are we going to do now?” Taekwoon asks, glancing at the door as if the agents would come bursting in any second.
“I promised we would all be able to see each other again, right? I can still keep that promise.” Wonshik replies, picking up one of the wires from the ground and driving the prongs into his neck. The electricity surges through him and causes him to bite back a cry of pain. Taekwoon’s face falls when he realizes the implications of Wonshik’s actions.
“You can’t possibly mean…” He whispers in shock, although he already knows the answer.
“This is our only way now… You still want to see them all again, right?” Wonshik asks, his voice strained as the machine begins to delete the intricate coding and memories from Wonshik’s body.
“I do. You’ll be there too after this.” Taekwoon murmurs after what seems like an eternity, picking up another wire and hesitating for a split second before jamming the prongs into his neck.
“Once it beeps and we pull out the wires, we’ll be able to see them again,” Wonshik says, embracing Taekwoon the best he can with the wires hindering his movement.
“We’ll be free,” Taekwoon adds, pulling Wonshik in for one last kiss before the machine beeps. Wonshik hums in agreement, slowly pulling his arms away from Taekwoon and gripping the wire attached to his neck. Taekwoon does the same, gazing into Wonshik’s eyes with more emotion than words can express.
“I love you.” Those are the last words Wonshik hears from Taekwoon before he tears out the wire, his expression strikingly peaceful as the light dies from his eyes and he collapses to his knees.
“I love you too.” Wonshik chokes out, ripping out his wire not a second later and collapsing beside Taekwoon.
The agents burst in five minutes later, only to find the two lovers facing each other, kneeling lifeless and still reaching towards each other even in death.
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