The key to Taemin's game was moderate observation and the ability to parse out what bothered people. Sometimes he figured it out through his powers, the information passed through a touch, or secrets locked between a pattern of cards. Sometimes he figured it out by watching and waiting, baiting and seeing what would take for them to bite. He had a way with biding his time, with saving things, up, piecing together what made people weak, what would make them malleable in his hands. Saved them all for when he decided he needed it. Not that Chanyeol had too many secrets, he had never been that kind of person, but Taemin had more than enough time to memorize the theoretical manual in the art of pissing Park Chanyeol off.
He knew he'd already accomplished it, knew it in the way Chanyeol stared and called out after him when Taemin brushed passed him in the hall. Knew in the way Chanyeol leered angry when Taemin stumbled home drunk on someone else's arm, his eyes passing through Chanyeol like he might have been an apparition of his past that he never wanted to revisit. It had tripped him up, Taemin saw it in the ache that seemed to radiate off of him in waves. Heard it when Chanyeol slammed his door a little too loud. Witnessed it now in the way Chanyeol was starting to crack, desperate for attention and desperate not to let it show. He wanted Chanyeol to buck the last of his self restraints and submerge himself in rage, that or acknowledge that some of the hits had landed, that he was weak, that he was wanting. But then, that was something of a rarity.
"Seems like you're a better person to ask about that than me." he returned back rhetorical. They both knew that Taemin was a mess, he'd dated Chanyeol for long enough that it had already become apparent. The fact that Chanyeol was calling him out on it bothered him, but not in a way that made him angry. It was a dull sort of feeling that sunk like lead in his chest, like affirmation of what he already knew and what he didn't want to hear. It twisted up in him, an impulse to drag Chanyeol back because he could never let him get the last word. Could never let him feel like he'd won.
It worked. Of course it did, it always had.
The way to pull Chanyeol back to him had always been through insults instead of pleas, words laced with venom and a litany of everything wrong about him over 'come back.' A testament to the dysfunctional nature of their relationship. Taemin didn't have time to dart off before Chanyeol was pinning him back against metal and concrete, fingers rough at his jaw and pulling his eyes up to force their gaze to meet. Taemin had the gall to laugh, Chanyeol's fingers digging deeper in the process. "I'm always asking for it, baby." it came out sarcastic, cruel even, but he thought the situation was all just a little funny. Chanyeol knew him well enough, knew he wouldn't care, knew he craved it. Used it like some brutal solution, an attempt to knock the pieces of himself back together. Or maybe he was just looking for someone who was finally capable of destroying him completely. Taemin was never really sure.
The words he was threatening to spit out were sealed off when Chanyeol pressed his fingers tighter, his jaw locking and eyes narrowing. He'd no doubt have bruises in the morning, and there would be implications for how they got there to anyone that glanced his way. Chanyeol was probably doing it on purpose, the fucking tool. He kept questioning him though and it had Taemin lifting a hand to yank hard at Chanyeol's thumb, bent it back to give him enough room to talk, even if he hadn't pulled free completely. "I don't keep you around. You do that yourself, wandering around my door and fucking whining like a stray, hoping I take you in. Don't spin this on me. Don't spin this like I still fucking want you Chanyeol, because you know I don't." he hissed out.
It was a lie at the heart of it all. There was a part of him that did still want Chanyeol, but there was also a part of him that wanted to run before Chanyeol got to close. Before he lit him up in flames and they both imploded in something blinding and brutal. Achilles had always just been a man, and what match did man stand against the sun? "If they're all lining up for me I think that means they like me well enough. Besides, I don't even need them to like me. Just fuck me." Taemin dragged the last three words out slow, pointed, even as Chanyeol rambled on and on and into waters that were far too deep for him to tread, the kind that made Taemin want to drag him under until he was struggling, gasping, and then entirely breathless. Talking about who he was, what he hated had never been an allowable topic. Not without setting Taemin off in a terrible mood, a terrifying mood.
"You know, it always surprises me." he started off, the tone conversational, seemingly at odds with the way Chanyeol was panting with anger. "Just how fucking desperate you are. I mean, I know it shouldn't at this point, but..." he trailed off with a lift of his shoulder, though he took another step back to fit himself back against the railing when Chanyeol boxed him in. "Why would I want this, want you when I already said I have someone?" he reminded him, a snort following soon after at his follow up, had him tumbling into more goading. "I know you can't. What a good boy." he hummed out, the corner of his lips quirking up in something like amusement. Though he was entirely sure Chanyeol wouldn't find it nearly as hilarious as he did. But then, Taemin always seemed to have more fun in winding the strings of Chanyeol's conscience around his fingers in order to make him dance, until he was all tangled up in himself. It was harder to run that way.
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