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part twelve | angel // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 14.4k RATING: mature/mdni—contains: blood and dreams and angels

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: thank you thank you thank you

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST / TAGLIST / PLAYLIST]

You’re not alone, but the quiet apartment gives the illusion of loneliness. It’s horrible. If only they would wake and start to fuss, need you…anything but this.

Seungmin left his phone on his nightstand, which you only figured out after two unanswered texts, and if you dwell on the fact that you can’t reach him, panic quickly sets in. What if you need him? What if something happens to one of the boys? What if It is still here with you, watching from a dark corner?

Picking that phone up right now and unlocking it would be so, so easy…it’s a line you have a hard time crossing. But what if there's something in there? It’s not even locked—Seungmin doesn’t have it pass code protected, or face ID turned on.

Is it worse than what he did? Is what he did enough to justify what you’re about to do?

The lock screen is just a generic image of the night sky, but it’s you on the main screen. An older photo of you, when you were still pregnant. There isn’t much to look at; phone, messages, music apps, camera and photos, and the alarm clock all sit at the top. You swipe and see his email, the weather, and the notes app. Back again to the messages—the last texts are from you, and below that is Heecheol, unanswered.

The phone throws you a little because you don’t recognize his most recent call. Last night, around the time he would have been taking your mother back, or getting home, he had a six minute phone call. “Gomo? Aunt?” Seungmin called his aunt, someone he’s rarely spoken of. He mentioned them briefly when you asked who cared for him, and you assume that’s who he was referring to when he said he was hard to love. His aunts were his main caregivers, and while you thought all of his family had died and left him alone, that isn’t the case. Someone is alive, and he spoke to one or both of them briefly before his episode early this morning. What did he talk about for six minutes, and what did they say to him?

You check his email, and it’s (unsurprisingly) boring. It seems to be mostly work related—bills, bank statements you have little interest in anymore, and when you hit show all mail, a few of his favorite places to shop pop up, and nothing else. Everything is just as tidy as you expect it to be.

The last thing to check is his notes app, but it’s not the typical iPhone notes app—this one is different, and a few of the entries are inaccessible without a six digit pass code. The ones you can open, you can’t read very well anyway. Translating it feels too intrusive, but when you see your name in one of the older notes, your real name, you can’t fight back the urge. Instead of translating it directly, you snap a photo and give it to Papago. The wording is a little lost in translation, but it’s enough for you to figure out…

24/11/25 I don’t know what to do. My brain is on fire, and my body is, too, but it feels so good. This isn’t how I’m supposed to feel…but her… why won’t she leave me alone? Butterflies in my stomach?? Or maybe I’m just so nervous I feel like I’m going to vomit. What’s the difference? I guess the difference is I like the way it feels.

You thought you knew how he was feeling pretty quickly after meeting him, but this puts everything into a new perspective. His own words. Seungmin was truly losing his mind over you. Each new sentence makes your heart jump a little more.

I can’t even allow myself to think something beyond my normal is possible, because I can’t hide who I am from her, not if I get her as close as I think I want her. It’s getting worse than that. I have to have her.

You pull up another.

24/12/06 I haven’t written much down lately. It’s strange having my head occupied by something other than my own thoughts, or the usual thoughts, even if it’s just small talk and sex…but the small talk and sex is so good. And she hasn’t left me yet, even after everything she’s seen. Is there something wrong with her, too? Maybe she’s planning her escape with each passing day. I’m so afraid she’s going to leave. At some point I will become too much...this will all become too much. I can’t stand the thought of that happening now.

There are so many. Seungmin made a little journal entry nearly every day, and they go back well before you met him. The most recent one is unlocked, and it’s the last one you read.

25/07/13 The boys are finally home, and I have never been so relieved, so happy, and scared at the same time. They’re so tiny, and I’m afraid I’ll break them every time I pick them up. I can’t stop picking them up, though. I need to hold them and keep them close. Tokki seems confident, and I think it’s coming to her naturally, like it should. The three of them have a connection I might never know, and sometimes I think I feel some jealousy, but they are mine. All three of them are mine. I feel that when I have them in my arms, because they look at me as if they know who I am. That’s why I can’t stand to put them down. I hope she knows what she has given to me.

There’s more, but you stop and hold back the tears for now. Seungmin is vulnerable with you, yes, but here he speaks so freely, so you decide you’ve crossed the line enough for today. He will come home soon, because he would never willingly leave his children behind. And you…he fought so hard against himself to get you here and keep you with him. He’ll be back.

But hours pass. Each feeding, each changing, and every song you hum and sing as you walk them around the apartment marks another two or three hours without him. Nothing pops out at you, at least. No shadows, and no dogs…but the dogs feel less and less threatening each time they appear. Eventually, you sit down with the remains of his music box, and you very carefully take everything apart. A few weeks after buying parts to help fix it, you realized how impossible it would be to give him back something that resembled what his mother left him, so you commissioned it, spent another $300, and now you need to remake it’s home.

Each piece of wood, some whole and some not so whole, get set to one side; the insides, not the mechanical parts, but the soft lining where the jewelry was, go to another corner. The moving parts that took you months to find are finally unwrapped.

“Okay guys, I’m gonna need some moral support. Can you handle that?” Haesung answers with a yawn, and Haneul seems to catch it from him. “Daddy is gonna be so happy when he gets home…if I can figure this out.” The first thing you do it set the old cylinder next to the brand new one. They don’t look quite the same, mostly because the old one is missing some very important parts, but when you wind the new one up, the music is identical.

Heecheol has never dreamed so much in his life, and now it seems like every night a strange new scene unfolds in his head. He keeps himself up until almost 3 am, flipping through hundreds of hotel cable channels, trying his best to nurse one, and then two coffees, just to avoid the inevitable. That’s not going to fix things, though, and it won’t help him figure out what the dreams are about. If he’s not buried alive and out of breath in one, he’s being chased in another. He can’t figure out which one is worse. Being chased takes him back to his stupid trip to the Uljin house, and his run through the woods. The memories of that night are still just fragments, but since the dreams started a few nights later, he feels like he’s remembering.

After the dregs of his second cup are finally behind him, he loses. Sleep takes him quickly, and with no fight. Tonight, the dream is different...

He feels and hears his careful steps across the hardwood floor, a creak here and there. If anyone is around, he can’t see them in the dark of wherever he is. He reaches for a doorknob, but it’s locked, and he begins to feel like a marionette as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out what feels like a wallet. No, not a wallet. The little metal things he pulls out slides into the lock until he feels a click, and then again, this time the deadbolt. The room he walks into is almost as dark, but he can make out where he is—someone’s tiny apartment. His dream self seems impatient, and he moves quickly, very unlike his other dreams. Across the room and down a short hall…the door he’s looking for is open, easy, but when he gets to the edge of the bed, Heecheol only stares at whoever is under the covers. No time passes, but so much time passes as he stands there and waits. Waits for what?

The lump beneath covers starts to stir, and that seems to be his cue, because he rounds the bed and gets a closer look. Why isn’t he nervous? Whatever he’s doing feels natural, so natural that it actually calms him. Heecheol feels good, and his lungs fill with a deep, satisfying breath as his hand reaches out and covers the man’s mouth, he swings his legs up and straddles his waist, and it’s now that the man in the bed realizes something is wrong.

“Shut up, don’t make a sound…” His muffled cries are too loud, though. “The louder you are, the slower I’ll go. Is that what you want?”

What is he saying? That’s not even his voice. That’s not his hand. Three silver rings shine up at him, and he remembers those rings. They were on the hands that gripped the steering wheel of the Supra outside the hotel. The man shakes his head, and the terror in his eyes is palpable. How can he feel this in a dream? He’s not even him.

“Do you remember me?”

Now his look changes to confusion, but it slowly turns to realization as his eyes adjust to being awake.

“Yes, you do. Your nose is healed, and your bruises are gone, but…you won’t be so lucky this time.”

If he wanted to, he could throw Heecheol (Seungmin?) right off of him, but he doesn’t dare when the sharp point of a knife is already drawing blood from his throat. His full weight is on him, and his legs are squeezing hard into his sides, making it hard for him to take a breath.

“I promised my girl I’d kill anyone that touched her, and I’m taking care of that tonight..better late than never. Look at me.”

The man’s eyes squeeze shut, and Heecheol feels the anger rise up in him.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

He mumbles a please, and squeezes out a tear, I’m sorry, and his eyes finally open.

The knife slides smoothly across his throat, and the blood flows. Heecheol’s nose fills with the coppery scent, almost chokes him, but his hands aren’t finished. The knife moves to the other side, just below his jaw, and slices again. He watches as his pupils dilate and contract, over and over as everything leaves him, and when he finally stops moving and the light appears to extinguish, he feels something warm move through him. He feels a twinge in his stomach, and maybe something more between his legs. Is this getting him off?

“That’s better…”

His dream self sighs, and Heecheol feels the release of breath as his eyes open, but he chokes on it and coughs until he sits up and manages to catch his breath. His own breath, in his own body. No rings on his fingers, no knife in his hand…no blood, except the smell. A drop of bright red falls on his good wrist, and then another as his nose starts to bleed. If that was a dream, it was the worst one yet. Heecheol checks the time on his phone, 4 am, and he decides the only solution is another type of drink.

When midnight rolls around, and then 2:30…and then 5am, it gets a little bit harder to keep your panic down. Seungmin hasn’t called to tell you everything is okay, and you know he would find a phone if he could. Do his fugue states last this long? Do they last days? You’re not even sure that’s what this is, because he’s never done it aside from his disappearance in the woods, but of course it’s a possibility…especially considering his state of mind last night. Cold-shouldering him is hanging too heavy over you now. Did he deserve that?

“Hi, joeun achimieyo.” Haneul wakes up first, followed quickly by his brother. “Do you boys wanna take a little walk?” It’s not quite feeding time, so first a diaper change, and then a second time breaking out the stroller. “I should be mad at him all over again for leaving me alone, but you two are so good. Thank you for being so good.”

The elevator ride, despite no interruptions this early in the morning, is slow, and you can’t help but imagine him waiting for you when the doors finally slide open. It’s a nice daydream, seeing him and his bandaged forehead, his hopefully evenly buzzed head…what a good look while he wanders the city. Nobody is there, though, no cute k-drama moment. All you’re greeted with is an empty lobby, but the sun is rising, and the light is just making it in, and that isn't a bad sight. It’s warm already—29° according to your phone. Maybe not the worst time to venture outside. “Field trip, guys?” Both of them look at you with Seungmin's big dark eyes and it pulls at something in your stomach; twists it into that homesick feeling you hate, but are still so grateful to feel for him.

It’s quiet outside. There is some traffic, but little foot traffic aside from you and a few very early risers. Typically, you’re not one of them, so being up and outside right now feels a little bit like a dream. “Oh, we can go in here!” The GS25 where you met him. It glows in the early dawn light, and when the doors slide open, the cool air moves across your face—it begs you to come in.. “I am pretty hungry.” The older woman behind the counter looks up from her magazine, and to your surprise, her face lights up. It’s the stroller, of course—she’s certainly not that pleased to see you, or any other customer.

“Joeun achimieyo.” She raises herself up a little to get a better look, and whispers, “ssangdungi?”

The quiet inside is a little eerie, but not enough to turn around and leave. Besides, you haven’t had a convenience store snack in weeks, and now you’re craving something. “Ne, ssangdungi.” Something about twins, especially tiny ones like them, never fails to grab attention. You'll have to get used to that. A moment later, music starts playing softly overhead, and you recognize the song. It’s on the playlist you made—some of your favorites, some of his. This is one that reminds you of him.

“Agideureun jameul jal ssu opsseumnida?”

It takes a moment, but she’s patient. “Uh…no…jameul jal ssu omneun goseun naya.”

“Maybe…” she starts, struggling the same as you, “some milk and snack.”

Seungmin is somewhere between sleep and consciousness. He’s floating, he thinks, and he doesn’t like it, because his eyes are wide open and seeing everything much too clearly. The sky above him is the darkest blue, splashed with stars, but no moon; beneath him is the forest floor, and right in the center of the clearing, a yin yang.

“What…” Speaking doesn’t feel right. “What is that?” Is that what I sound like?

He looks back to the sky and counts the stars directly above him, bukdu chilseong, and wonders if he should will himself back to earth. He doesn’t want to go down there, but he can’t stay here, either. Two feet on the ground is the only way he’s going to get home.

Okay, down…please.” Seungmin closes his eyes and imagines himself drifting downward, but he isn’t sure it’s working until he feels the grass between his fingers. Now open your eyes and deal with whatever is waiting for you here. That part is difficult. As hard as he tries to be brave for himself and for you, he’s terrified of It and what it might be capable of. Luckily, all he smells is forest—good, living forest. Fresh dirt and flowers. And then the unexpected smell of dog’s breath. His eyes pop open, and a long tongue slides across his cheek.

“Wah…ah, what the fuck? Where did…”

The black dog stares him down with eyes the same shade as his, tongue still out and hanging to the side. Its long legs shift, one paw moves up and back, and then the other as it adjusts its long body into a comfortable position. Now it just sits there and stares. The white one is directly behind him, still curled up and, he thinks, sleeping. The other half of the yin yang he spotted from above.

“Hi, uhm…do you have a name?” Does he think the dog is going to talk to him? “Do you want something from me? From us?"

No answer, but a grumble that definitely feels annoyed. If this is a dream, and it has to be a dream, then the dogs should be able to talk to him. Can you hear my thoughts? It’s worth a shot…

The dog stands again, and now the white one wakes and makes eye contact.

I’ll take that as a yes. Why are you following us around? You’re scaring my wife.

They might be able to hear him, but they still don’t respond.

Are you good? I don’t fear you like I fear the—

A bark cuts him off, and then a grumble. The dog advances, but slowly, as if they know they might scare Seungmin, but he’s still as a cold nose examines him a little more.

You are good? Both of you? Yeah, you come together, just like my twins.

The white one looks back again, closes its eyes, and yawns. The black one sits and lowers its head in what what appears to be submission.

Why can’t you speak to me?

A car alarm pulls him out of the comfort of his dream, and he opens his eyes to something far from the dogs and their forest. A side street, an overflowing garbage can, and him slumped in the corner where he assumes he passed out. Luckily, it’s still mostly dark, because Seungmin smells the scent of blood before he looks down at himself. His, or someone else’s? He feels intact, and as he stands up slowly, the only thing not quite right is the pins and needles going through his left arm. He drops the knife in his hand, touches his forehead and feels nothing but raw, warm bloody skin. The other hand slides over his shaved head, and he starts to remember. “What did I do?” He whispers, and as he looks down at his blood soaked shirt, the buzz in his brain returns.

I think he’s waking up

It gets worse. His left eyes goes dark, and blinking just makes it worse. Both eyes stop working, and no matter how hard he digs his knuckles in and rubs, the nothingness persists. “I can’t see…I can’t see!”

please relax

“Relax?” How can he relax with blackness all around him and hands gripping his shoulders. Pushing him down. Whose voice is in his head this time?

open your eyes, please relax and look at me…we’re just trying to help

He’s so afraid of opening them and seeing nothing; of never seeing your face again, but he listens and opens them one more time. A burning white light and shadows moving back forth, side to side…that’s what he sees this time. Is that better, or worse? “Where am I, who are you?”

"I’m Dr. Lim…Seungmin-ssi? Do you remember…"

“Doctor? Where’s Tokki?”

“Tokki? First let’s figure out exactly who you are.”

“I can’t see…”

“You can…” her voice lowers, “Pupils are dilated and responsive to light.” And then she returns, a few inches from his face. “Just relax and take a few deep breaths. You’re safe here, I assure you. Just in shock.”

Everything starts to come into focus. The room, the bright light shining down on him, his ripped shirt, and… “what the fuck?” A handcuff is tight around his left wrist, securing him to the bed railing. “Please, what’s happening? I need to call her, where’s my phone?” He feels around with his free hand, but there is no phone in his pocket, and no wallet or keys. “I need my phone.”

“All of your belongings are safe. And you had no phone on you when you arrived, just a wallet, and...”

“How did I get here?”

“A shop owner found you passed out next to his garbage, and an ambulance brought you in. You’ve only been here for about fifteen minutes.”

The handcuff, much too tight, brings up too many memories. “Why am I cuffed to the bed?”

The doctor finally comes into focus. Seungmin can make out her young face, her round glasses, and her tired eyes. Shelooks like she’s already over Seungmin’s hysterics. “Well, you’re covered in blood, and you had a knife in your hand. We are being extra cautious, because that much blood should not have come from that wound on your forehead. Did you cut yourself?”

A nurse walks in and he hears the distinct click of a cops two-way radio. She whispers something to the doctor, but Seungmin catches it. Psych is here.

You’ll love this, being thrown into more drama when you’ve already had enough at home. There isn’t much you can do with your limited Korean and even more limited knowledge of what he was doing before this, but he needs you here with him. “Can I please call my wife? Can someone call her?”

“Try this.” The woman heads to the endless rows of cold drinks and picks one out. “Chocolate. And, and…” now she slowly makes her way to the snacks. It seems like she’s trying to get a feel for you—trying to read your mind and guess what you might like.

“Cream bun?”

She nods and hands you one, chocolate flavor again. Not a bad pick, even if you do still remember throwing one up before you found out you were pregnant.

“Nampyoni dambaereul kkeunonnayo?”

“Nampyoni…” the rest doesn’t translate, and she can tell. “Jwesonghaeyo …I’m sorry.” A wave and laugh puts you at ease, though.

“Your husband quit smoking? He bought his cigarettes from me…before.”

“Oh, yes.” Did he? He still has a pack in his drawer, but you haven’t seen him smoke (or smell it on him) in a very long time. The question takes you back in time to your meeting on the sidewalk. Seungmin had a fresh cigarette between his lips when you walked by, head forward but eyes stuck on him. “Mostly.” You may have been in here with him once or twice, and she remembers.

“He must be sleeping.”

“No, but he…he’s sick.”

He’s left in silence as the hour passes, but eventually he can hear someone right outside the curtain; static and mumbles on his radio, the squeak of his shoes. The cop is back. These handcuffs belong to him, and he has the key, but it doesn’t matter…they have Seungmin’s ID, his knife. What did he get himself into? “Hello…excuse me…can I—"

The cop peers in and narrows his eyes.

“What day is it? What time?”

He looks at his watch. “6am, it’s the 17th.”

“Okay, I lost a day,” he mumbles under his breath. “A whole fucking day.” The stitches in his forehead itch, and he wonders if whoever did them did half as well as Heecheol. He’s out of the bloody shirt, probably taken as possible evidence until they realize that can’t keep him here, in an emergency room, for being covered in blood. That’s what he’s hoping…no surprise dead body.

Minnie?

Your voice is so soft and far away, it might be in his head. Seungmin closes his eyes and listens for you again, but he’s left with his own unsure thoughts. The doctor didn’t take a phone number from him, so there’s no way for you to know where he is. You’re home, worried and afraid; he’s here…worried and afraid. It’s difficult for him to admit that, to speak it (think it) out loud and into the universe, but he is. No more brave face, and no more being strong for you and the boys. Seungmin is scared. Helpless. Caught, maybe. Trapped, yes.

“Excuse me?” This time, his voice shakes, but the cop hears him. “Can I please give someone a phone number?”

“Not my job.”

He looks around for a call button, and he finds it, but he’s not sure anyone will bother with it. The emergency room is getting busier, and he’s not really a priority until they can send him away with the police.

The sound of his name perks him up until he realizes it’s just the voice of another doctor, but at least he won’t be sitting in here, stewing in the worst possible scenarios.

“Kim Seungmin…can you tell me your date of birth?”

September twenty-second, two thousand.”

“Can you tell me what medications you’re currently on?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“The on-call psychiatrist. I noticed nobody had asked or filled out medical history yet, but I suppose you did just wake up. Are you on any medications?”

Lying crosses his mind. “Yes.” But only briefly. He doesn’t need more meds pushed into him. Haldol, 2 milligrams twice a day.”

“Who prescribes it and why?”

“Dr. Mun Ji-Youn. For, uh, schizoaffective disorder.”

“Have you lapsed in taking it recently, or stopped completely?”

“I’ve been taking it every day for the last month, maybe longer. I’m not sure. If someone would call my wife…”

“And have you ever experienced time loss or memory loss while taking Haldol?”

Too many questions. He doesn’t want to do this right now. A headache is pulsing behind his eyes, and the constant pressure on his wrist makes him want to scream. “I’m not answering any more questions until someone listens to me.”

“I understand you’re upset, but it’s important that I know this information. Please.”

Seungmin goes quiet. It’s not that important, or it doesn’t seem like it is. The only thing he’s concerned about is you, the boys, and whatever the police might try to pin on him. And just like that, with the stomach-churning thought in his head, two more cops appear outside of his curtain. Three identical pairs of shoes all convene in a circle as the voice of the psychiatrist drones on in the background. “Why are there more?”

“More what, Seungmin?”

“Cops. There are three out there now. Why?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I assume it has something to do with why you’re handcuffed to the bed. I understand you were unconscious when you arrived, and the doctor hasn’t ruled out a head injury. But there are no open beds in neuro right now.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of beds open on your floor.”

“We have one. You need a ct scan before you go anywhere, but I would like you to take that bed.”

“Seems like everyone else is gunning for a prison cell.”

The doctor fidgets uncomfortably, then decides to take a seat. He’s closer than he should be, probably, but maybe he doesn’t think Seungmin is as dangerous as everyone else seems to. He clicks the pen…twice, three times, before he starts to scribble on his clipboard, and Seungmin catches a few lines of his neat handwriting:

Suspected self harm to head and chest; suspected harm of another individual. His newest note; police are making him nervous.

“I didn’t do anything. I just want to go home to my wife and kids.”

“You have children?”

Seungmin feels a hitch in his chest before he even starts to speak. “Yes, two boys.” And he has to hold himself together now that he’s seeing their faces in his head. “They just came home from the hospital a few days ago. I really need to get home to them.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I can contact anyone, considering the circumstances, but…”

“This can’t be allowed. I can’t be treated like a criminal unless there’s a…a real reason.”

Before the doctor can get his next words out, the curtain is pushed all the way open. Now Seungmin can see most of the room he’s in; the nurses station, where everyone not immediately busy is staring at him, and two of the three cops. They’re shoulder to shoulder, and one is holding the keys to his handcuffs. For the briefest moment, he thinks everything might be alright. The cop is going to free his wrist and he can relax a little bit.

Seungmin holds his breath as the cop approaches, but the key slides into the cuff attached to the bed, not his wrist.

“Get up.”

“What’s going on?” The buzzing in his head starts as soon as the words come from his mouth. Seungmin is forced to his feet as the other cop starts telling him what he’s suspected of doing, that he has the right to council, and that he can choose to speak in defense of himself or remain silent. Something like that. He can’t even catch a breath, let alone make sense of him firing off bullet points while both of his wrists are pulled behind his back. “Please. I didn’t do anything.”

The walk helped, somehow, and when your head hits the pillow again, you’re out. The dream seems to come to life immediately, but you’ve gotten good at taking control of them. Somewhere toward the end of your pregnancy, you became more lucid each time. Right now you’re wondering if Seungmin is sharing this dream with you; a clear, starry sky, a pretty forest filled with wildflowers, and the dogs…chasing each other in circles, playing in a clearing ahead of you. They seem so innocent from here. So sweet and a little bit ethereal. Every time you’ve seen them in the house, you were too scared to really look at them, but now you see them. They move like water. Or fire. They’re pretty. They don’t scare you here.

A scream brings you back in an instant. You know that scream.

“Haneul?” Lifting yourself out of it is still just as challenging, but his cries get you there quickly, and little brother follows a moment later. “Everything is alright, it’s just the alarm.” Or you think it is in your half sleep. This time, your phone is ringing, and you turned the volume all the way up just in case he called. The number comes up with a caller ID, but it’s a name you don’t recognize: Dr. Lee Dae-hyun.

A trembling finger swipes to pick up, “h-he…uh, yeoboseyo.”

“Am I speaking to—?”

Hearing your full name makes your stomach lurch. “Yes. Is he okay?”

“Are you family of Kim Seungmin? Are you his wife?”

“Yes, yes…please tell me he’s alright.”

“Your husband was brought into my hospital this morning…”

And the urge to vomit hits immediately. “Please tell me he's alright.” Your knees hit the floor, and despite the boys’ cries, you can’t move.

“Oh, he’s alright. I’m sorry. He’s alive and uninjured, mostly.”

“Oh my, I thought…fuck, he’s alive.” There’s a long moment of silence as you lift yourself off the floor and stumble to the cots. “Is he there with you? Can I please talk to him?”

“No. He was taken into custody by the police about an hour ago. I don’t know much else. It took me some time to track you down.”

“What do I do? I’m not sure what to do, I can barely speak Korean. How am I supposed to help him?” Another long silence. You think you can hear the doctor mumbling to himself, probably wondering who he can hand you off to so he can get back to his real job. “Where did they take him?”

“I’m not sure, but I would guess the police station in Mapo. Do you have any friends who can help you?”

Just one. “Uhm, maybe.” Of course Heecheol will help Seungmin, but if he wasn’t suspicious before, he certainly will be if you talk to him about this.

“I know you have two very young babies to care for as well, he mentioned that. I can hear them. I’m sorry if I woke them."

“No, thank you so much for calling me.”

The situation he is in now has haunted him a few times since the first night he killed, but never enough to stop him. How could he stop? If something could have changed the wiring of his brain, it obviously wasn’t the threat of prison. The voices taunting him were far, far worse than this. Were. Being away from you is worse than the voices; worse than It.

idiot, so stupid…how could you be so careless and get caught?

Your voice.

His mind is switching between nothing and everything. The adrenaline is making it worse. There’s nothing, just him. No voices. “Please, please not now.”

not now? I’m always in here, waiting

Seungmin raises his head just enough to see eyes looking back at him in the rearview mirror. The cop in the drivers seat looks at him with disdain, and then he hears one whisper to the other... "Geuneun michosso."

do you even know what you did?

Heecheol’s voice.

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.” He whispers. He’s been on the verge of tears from the moment he was shoved into the police car, and he’s beginning to think the drive will never end. Maybe they’re taking him in circles just to watch him squirm a little more, or admit to something he doesn’t know. “I still haven’t been told why I was arrested.”

“Yes you have, you weren’t listening.” The cop in the passenger seat is clearly out of patience. “You’re being arrested for suspicion of destruction of property, breaking and entering, and theft. Did you hear me that time?”

The feeling slowly returns to his body. His racing heart finally calms. “Y-yes. I heard you.” Not murder. Not suspicion of murder. They didn’t find a body, if there is a body, at least not yet. “Can I—”

“Quiet.”

Seungmin listens. He goes silent, but his head doesn’t.

they’re going to fingerprint you, they might even collect your dna…don’t get too comfortable you little brat

Stepfather’s voice.

finally, some real punishment

They have to let him call you eventually.

Heecheol will help, but you can’t get your finger to hit the call button on Seungmin’s phone. Do you really want to risk them becoming even more tangled up in the string connecting them? It’s selfish, and the fleeting moment of distrust you feel in him makes your stomach hurt. You do trust him, with everything, but maybe you can do this on your own. What you can’t do is take the boys with you.

The bus route stops just a few blocks from the station Dr. Lee assumed he would be at, so that’s where you head first. The station is much bigger than you envisioned, so him being held here isn’t the stretch of the imagination it was before. Despite the chaos of your young life, and the stupidity of your early twenties, you never once saw the inside of a jail cell, or even a police station, so doing this on your own in a foreign country is probably a silly idea.

“Jega jom dowa deurilkkayo?”

The young cop behind the desk smiles, and when he looks up at you, you’re surprised to see his smile grow even more.

“Ne, chatkko itsseu—”

“Ah, can I help you with something miss?” He cuts you off mid sentence to switch to English, and his smiles fades when your face grows serious. “Mianhaeyo.”

“I’m looking for someone. Kim Seungmin.”

“Kim Seungmin,” he puts his nose into his paperwork in search of the name. “Kim…Seung…Min. Yes. He was booked about two hours ago. Are you immediate family?”

“Nan geue anaeda. Can I see him?”

“Have a seat. I’ll have someone come out and speak to you.”

That seems reasonable. You thank him and head for a row of chairs, all empty, luckily. The last thing you want to deal with right now is other people, but you don’t sit there long enough to check up on the boys. Another cop, older and more serious, makes his way toward you a few moments later

“You must be the rabbit he keeps crying about.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Follow me.”

The cop is being dramatic, but if Seungmin has been crying for you, you’re not sure you’re prepared to see him like that. The last twenty-four hours have been difficult without him; the strong one. Seungmin is your protector, but now that role has been flipped, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. “Why is he being held here? And can I take him home?”

“That’s not up to me. The judge that issued the warrant has to grant him bail.”

Bail? For murder? Not likely. Seungmin might not be coming home with you today, tomorrow…in a week. You feel like giving in to the tremble of your entire body, throwing up what little you have in your stomach, until you turn a corner and finally see his face. His beautiful face; red and puffy from crying. His hair is still a little uneven and the cut on his forehead is stitched up, but uncovered and angry looking. You have to wonder if the hospital treated him with any sort of compassion, especially if he came in under strange circumstances. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so tired and defeated, and you can’t even comfort him properly.

“You’re here, how did you know I was here?” His voice is scratchy and nearly gone. “They wouldn’t let me call you.”

“It’s alright, Minnie. I found you.”

“No touching. Five minutes.”

But the cop walks away, leaving you mostly alone. You’re left with only the prying eyes of a few fellow prisoners, who you don't notice until after the cop closes the door behind him...so, Seungmin cried and begged for you despite them. You reach out and set your hand over his—leaving here without touching him isn't going to happen. “A doctor from the hospital you were at told me you might be here, but he didn’t say why. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m okay, just sore.”

The twitch in his arm makes you think withdrawal from his meds is pretty likely, and you didn’t think to bring any with you. They've gotten worse every time he's stopped and started again. “I’m trying really hard to stay calm, but I might be rejecting reality right now, or something. I can’t be without you, so I refuse to believe anything bad will happen to us.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He breathes deep and sighs. There might be the smallest hint of a grin on his lips, and looks around to ensure nobody is within earshot. “I don’t think they have much on me, unless they lied to me. Maybe we can go home soon.”

“They don’t?”

Seungmin knows the look you’re giving him. It’s full of doubt, and that’s despite the attempt at rejecting reality and staying positive. “Destruction of property, breaking and entering…theft, for some reason. I have no idea why, though.”

“How did you end up at the hospital?”

“I don’t know. I woke up from a dream, but then I woke up again...from another dream, I think. And I was handcuffed to a hospital bed, covered in blood. They stitched my forehead…” The strain in his voice gets worse as he speaks, and he begins to choke on his words. “My head hurts. Everything hurts. I wanna go home.”

“Everything will be okay, I promise.” Tears start falling down his cheeks and over his pouting lips. He’s never looked and felt so innocent before. You’re getting another glimpse of the little boy before he realized he was a killer. “You’re gonna get some sleep, and you’ll feel much better soon. Did they give you antibiotics?”

Seungmin shrugs as the cop returns too early. “No touching!”

“Can I post bail?”

“The judge went home for the day, so you’ll have to wait until morning and hope he wakes up in a good mood.”

It’s barely noon, and you have to leave him. You fully expected to go home without him on the bus ride here, even rejecting reality, but it still feels like a punch to the throat. “Can I please get his medication and bring it back down.”

The cop looks Seungmin over, sneers, stitches his brows together, so you can only assume he knows what meds he needs and why. Denying him his antipsychotic would be stupid, and he knows that.

“Make sure it’s in the prescription bottle with his name on it.”

Riding away might have hurt a little less if you could have kissed him. Just another eighteen hours, that’s all that sits between you…one more day. Maybe painting something will occupy your mind enough and make the time move a little easier—a finished portrait for him to come home to, a good breakfast, a comfortable bed. If not for being stuck in public, you would let some angry tears fall, but you manage to bite your trembling lip and hold it all in.

The bus drops you off two blocks from home, so the beacon-like glow of the GS25 finds you again. Of course you want to go in, but the sweet old woman probably isn’t manning the register this time. And the boys are waiting for you, hungry and cranky. Your mother made no fuss about watching them (but of course you didn’t tell her why you had to leave so suddenly, and why dad wasn’t there). She didn’t look up from her book when you flew into grab his meds, check on the sleeping boys, and leave again.

I’ll only be a few minutes, you think, and the cool air on your face wakes you from wherever you were on the ride here…thinking about your mom, the boys; worrying about how uncomfortable and alone Seungmin is; the dream of the forest.

Dasi annyong…

The old woman is behind the counter again, looking much more tired, as if she never left. Her white hair is pulled into the same bun as before, but it's starting to break free, and the wisps of strands give her a strange crown. “Oh, annyonghaseyo! You’re still here.”

“Yojonhi yogi. Did you return for more dessert?”

“Maybe. Or a coffee.”

Her eyes follow your every move as you scan the drinks. “Something is weighing you down.” She taps her acrylic nails on the counter. “But...”

The tone of her voice changes enough to make you stop what you’re doing and look. “Mworago?” But it’s still her.

"Why did you come here?"

Here, as in the convenience store? Perhaps she's asking why you came to Seoul, of all the places in the world. She can see your face, and hear you accent as you struggle to communicate, so she knows you're a long way from home.

“I see so much in your eyes—grief, happiness, anger, confusion…so much turmoil, no idea which way to turn.”

How do you respond to that? You’re obviously not masking as well as you thought, and were it not for the boys, you’d be heading straight for the alcohol. There is no numbing the sadness anymore. “I’m…” Fine? The furthest thing from it. A few days ago, you felt like you had the world in your hands. You did. “I’m—”

“I wish I could tell you things will get better, but I can’t see past it.”

"See past what?"

“There is something in the way.”

*

The apartment is too quiet, but pleasantly warm and fragrant from your growing moonflowers. It’s found a way up and around the window, and you can see new tendrils reaching out, looking for something else to hold onto. It needs a trellis. Seungmin will put one there if you ask him to, and he’ll be back soon to do it—he’ll be back to take care of the broken bathroom mirror, and to see his brand new music box.

The continued silence is concerning, though. “Mom?” A humming sound, a song, becomes more distinct as you get closer to the nursery. Your mother isn’t much of a singer, but it’s been a while since she was in the presence of an infant. Maybe something about them is softening her up. The hum doesn’t stop when you twist the knob and push. You sigh with relief and feel the growing panic leave your body. She’s here, standing in front of the crib, and you hear Haneul begin to fuss as you approach. “Hey, I’ll get us lunch as soon…uhm,” she doesn’t move when you speak, she doesn’t even seem to hear you. You worry briefly about what story to tell her, because she’s going to ask where Seungmin is. Still, she doesn’t budge. You move a few steps closer and see Haesung in the other crib. Both of them seem fine. “Mom…” It’s the way she feels when you reach out and touch her arm; the way she doesn’t react, or move. It’s her face when you finally see her. Eyes wide and unmoving, dilated pupils, the slight tremble of her lower lip. She’s looking straight ahead at the mural, and there is no awareness of you standing right next to her. “Mother!”

"We lost the house."

There's little concern or sadness in her voice, despite the obvious serious nature of that statement. "What? What are you talking about?" Before you got on your plane to Seoul, your mother and little sister were living comfortably in a very small house in Racine, Ohio. A house you helped them buy. Is that why she flew all the way here, because she had nowhere else to go? If so, you wonder where you sister is.

She's still staring wide-eyed at the wall. “Huh…what, oh you’re back. I just changed them and put them down for a nap. I guess they’re not very tired.”

Haneul is still crying, and you know that’s his wet diaper cry. They've been here for hours. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Is your husband home in one piece? He seems like a handful.”

Concern quickly turns to something else. It takes no time for her to snap back to her normal, inconsiderate self. She must be forgetting who's paying the bill for her hotel room. “Seungmin is not a handful. And he’s been nothing but kind and welcoming to you since you’ve been here…” You push past and take Haneul into your arms. “He’s still at the hospital. You can leave. Thank you for watching them.”

Being away from you is so much harder than he expected, and as he lies awake in his new cell (alone, thankfully), he wonders what’s going through your mind at this very moment. Do you hate him for getting himself into so much trouble? Not just trouble, no, this is bigger than that. Just like the kiss, this should have you seeing red, but sadness, not anger, seems to latch onto you and hold tight. And then he remembers something that he keeps forgetting—he’s your husband. You filled out some paperwork, signed it, and bound yourself to him by law. But the two of you are bound by something bigger than anything temporal. The stars and planets came together the morning you met, and Seungmin laughs and rolls his eyes at himself when he thinks it. He thinks about it all the time, though.

He reaches upward and looks at his fingers, spreads them so the fluorescent light shines through each one. They took his rings when he got booked, one of those was the wedding band you picked out for him, and his stomach turns from missing it. He can handle this, though. This cell is just another version of the shed where he spent so many nights, and he survived that.

His mind remains full of you to keep the memories at arms length; conversations he could redo, and do better; things he could say that he’s still so afraid to speak out loud; taking you in as you sleep…your scent and the way you breath when you’re somewhere else. Seungmin does eventually fall asleep when the adrenaline finally wears off, and he dreams…

he hums a song that he's never finished, and slowly, the words start to come. they float up toward the sky he’s staring at.

...and I don't know what I'm cryin' for…I don't think I could love you more…

overcast, steel grey…it’s pretty, but a little gloomy. seungmin prefers a blue sky and big fluffy clouds, with the sun peeking out just enough to give the flowers what they need. the sky right before a storm, seungmin thinks, is your style.

soft footsteps quiet him. he holds his breath, and for a long moment, he doesn’t want to look to his right. who else could be here, in the middle of this clearing?

"minnie, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

is it really you? he never dreams about you. “dream?” it comes out when he finally releases his breath. “am I dreaming?”

“are you?” a hand sets gently on his forehead, a thumb runs down and back up the soft curve of his nose, across his brow—a touch meant to tell him it’s you. a touch just to touch, to feel him and know he’s real. “I am.”

seungmin sits up, and the trees move in the breeze like water. “I never get to see you in my dreams.”

“maybe because I’m always right next to you.”

it takes him a moment to remember. “I’m not home, I’m not in bed with you.”

“why here?” you look around at the forest surrounding you, and a quick flash of white runs through the trees. “it doesn’t matter, I guess. I followed the sound until I found you.”

“sound?”

“the song you were humming, and then singing…”

he blushes, but why? you’ve heard him sing before…but that song is different. “I’m glad you found me.”

“yeah, I was feeling pretty lonely after the boys fell asleep.”

the grass is softer when his back hits it again. “are you in my dream, or am I in yours?”

“not sure. both?”

he feels every nerve catch fire when your lips touch his, but then it’s gone, and all he can feel is a ringing in his head.

The silence of his cell is disturbed by a brand new neighbor being locked in. The clang of metal vibrates in his chest, but it quiets almost immediately and his mind is left to think back on the dream. The moment his eyes close again, sleep finds him, you’re gone, and the rest of the night is dreamless.

The next thing Seungmin sees is a thin line of light coming in through the small window above him, and the next thing he feels is an ache in his chest. Each deep breath stings, so he flips to his back and focuses on pulling air into his stomach (like umma always told him when he was anxious), and it helps a little.

ireona…ireona

Despite the cop loudly milling down the corridor, the memory of the dream comes back, and it starts to ache in a new way. Are you already on your way to him? Hopefully—he needs to see you. He has questions.

“You! Kim…Seungmin.”

“Yes?”

A new one shows up and looks over his clipboard, and he takes his time. The papers fly up and down, as if the information isn’t right where it was a moment ago, and then the other cop interrupts to bullshit with him. Seungmin is quickly becoming impatient, but he continues to breathe deep and wait. No good will come from pissing them off.

“You’re being moved to Incheon detention center.”

“Moved…why? Has anyone come to post bail?”

“Bail? Oh, right. There was a young woman making a fuss right before I left. I remember her saying your name.”

He can feel his body going cold. “She came to take me home. There is no proof of—”

“Proof? Oh, we took your prints yesterday.” The cop lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers. “Did you forget?”

Inside he’s screaming, but he can’t let it show. “So?”

One of them snickers, the other nudges him. “It doesn’t say that, Bo-hyun. Hurry up, I want some breakfast.”

Seungmin hears every word and is still so confused. “What about my fingerprints?” The cop not holding the clipboard shakes his head and laughs as he goes for his keys. He’s opening it, and Seungmin is unsure what happens after this.

“You’re free to go, follow me.”

“I am?”

His body feels light again, but his stomach is still churning. Just a cruel, shitty joke between cops concerning his fate. Why should they care if inside he's falling apart? So no detention center. You must be out there, here to take him home, and the walk to his belongings is a long one. There’s more paperwork before he sees you, because the charges against him were dropped for insufficient evidence. The shopkeeper is the one that tried to pin something on him, and it didn't work. This was all a massive inconvenience and a really bad time, and god, he didn’t think he could miss someone, aside from his mother, the way he misses you right now. You’re moments away from him and standing here waiting for a few stamped papers and a nod is excruciating.

Clearly you got tired of waiting, too. It’s the back of you he sees as soon as the last door opens, slumped forward in the chair, head in your hands. Your hair is pulled into a tight braid, just long enough to reach the your back, and the naked curve of your neck and shoulders, the way you grab and squeeze your muscles in frustration as he approaches, perks him up a little more…you don’t typically leave the house showing so much skin, so it must be hot already. Seungmin can’t wait to take you home and kiss you there.

“Hey,” he whispers when he’s close enough to touch. You jump, and Seungmin can’t help but laugh. “Hi, love.” He catches a glimpse of two sleepy faces as you grip him with a not unusual sense of desperation. Seungmin has made you worry far too much over the last eight months, but he feels some of it leave your body when you touch him. “I missed you so much.”

The apartment feels different as soon he closes the door behind him, but you don’t seem to notice. You’re already occupied with freeing them from the confines of the stroller because they’re both starting get cranky from the heat. Seungmin thinks you might be, too. Tired, hot, and maybe not in the mood to deal with him no matter how relieved you are that he’s home safe.

Maybe he’s just projecting. “Do you need—”

“You should get cleaned up. I’m sure you feel awful after all of this.”

Two nights away; one on the street, the other in prison, is not good for his typical high maintenance needs. He wants you with him, but your stern face isn’t going away. “Would it be okay if I brought the boys in? After I shower, I mean.” You look at him, and a smile twitches on your lips. “For a bath.” Seungmin can feel himself getting softer every day, more passive. Obedient, even. He hasn’t made a journal entry since they came home, and his fingers are itching to get the mess of thoughts down.

“Yeah, they’ve missed you.”

Whatever strange connection you have with them seems to grow stronger each day, too, so he believes it. “You were in my dream last night.”

“Good.”

*

Seungmin sings to each boy as they lie on his chest. First Haesung, who gets a lullaby you’ve never heard before. It’s simple, but in his voice, it’s much more special. Haneul is wide awake and ready when it’s his turn, and his song starts as a hum. The words come to him slowly, and they’re barely more than a whisper…

“I know this song.” You lie your head on the edge of the tub and stare at him. Seungmin looked different in the dream—his hair was like it was before, and his forehead was smooth and uninjured. The eyes were the same; big and sad, like two dark pools of ink. Being away from him felt unnatural, and having him back is a relief you can’t explain.

“You do?”

You nod, but offer no explanation.

“It’s mine. It’s unfinished, but I don’t think I’ve ever sung it for you. Have I?”

“Last night, just a little bit. I want to hear it again.”

Last night. He wasn’t with you last night, and he can’t remember singing anything anyway. Your smile says otherwise. “Huh?” He loves your laugh, and sometimes he thinks he can hear your accent in it. “I’m confused.”

“Sing for us, please.”

He wants to, and he’s gotten used to singing for someone other than himself, but he still feels a slow warmth move over his entire naked body. First, he hums again, and he wonders if his voice will fall flat when he starts. His most important audience is here with him, and he wants it to be perfect. I want you to stay…

You sit up straight when his voice hits your ears.

Til I’m in the grave…until I rot away, dead and buried, until I’m in the casket you carry...

He stops to lift Haneul higher on his chest, to sneak a glance at you.

If you go, I’m goin too, cause it was always you…and if I’m turning blue, please don’t—

“Stop."

…save me.

A long silence hangs between you, until Seungmin starts again.

Nothin left to lose without my baby

Another long silence. Haesung is in your arms now, his face buried against your chest. You bury yours against him and try to regain some composure. “Please don’t leave again.”

“I won’t.” How can he possibly promise that? “I won’t, Tokki, I promise.”

*

“Where’s your lock picking set?”

Caging him up might be more simple than you expected, but there is no room for trial and error. Step one: a new padlock. It was the best one you could find—"unpick-able", according to the internet, but you don’t believe that. It’s already secured to the front door, locked with the rest of his security measures. Step two: hide everything from him. The keys, of course. You consider wearing them around your neck, but that would be too easy for him. The keys, his lock picking set, and the two screwdrivers in the house are somewhere only you know, but him finding them is still a possibility. Neither of you are sure how lucid he is when he wanders.

“I don’t know. The hospital took it, but I don’t think they gave it to the police. Or my knife.”

“They didn’t give evidence to the police?”

Seungmin shrugs.

“Oh well, even better.”

“I liked that knife.”

“Do you want—” Cuffed to the bed. No. You stop yourself just in time. He told you every detail he could remember from the moment he woke up in that hospital bed, and the bruises on his wrist are slowly growing. “We’ll lock this door, too. I’ll keep the key on me.”

He laughs at that, and you know why.

all he can see is a long row of cigarettes. several rows, perfectly lined up. just the sigh of them brings the memory of the smell and the cool burn in his throat, but when he reaches out for his usual pack, it’s suddenly behind a glass case. the pain in his fingers feels very real.

“you ready?”

me? he turns and faces the cashier; an older woman with a paperback in hand. “me?"

“there’s nobody else in here, honey”

“right…just a pack, uhm, the…” he can’t seem to form the words. he can’t even read the hangul on the packs.

“the usual?”

he nods and moves out of her way. why does his head feel empty? oh well. he smacks the pack on the heel of his hand a few times before ripping it open, can’t get it out and lit fast enough, and the first hit tastes as good as he expects. “much better.” everything feels a little clearer. he sucks in another lungful as you appear out of nowhere, like a rip in the universe spat you out just for him. you walk by without a glance in his direction. “hey!”

“oh, there you are. you don’t hold still.”

“what? I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“just stay focused on me.”

he can do that. what else would he focus on? “yeah, okay.” another drag, and though he tries to blow the smoke away from you, the wind brings it right back in your face. “sorry.”

“gimme...” you hold out your hand and wiggle your fingers at him, and a smirk twitches on his lips. he laughs when you take your own drag, hold it for a moment, and slowly let out the apple scented smoke. “still focused?”

seungmin nods happily. “only on you.”

“where do you wanna go?”

“home.”

Two big hazel eyes stare back at him in the dark, shining like he’s never seen before. The glow of the string lights behind him is what he sees, he thinks; a perfect starry reflection of whatever is inside of you.

“Did you have a dream?” You whisper.

The light fades a little when you blink. “Yeah, you were there.” Seungmin pulls his arms close to him, and you come, too. You tied one end of the soft nylon cord to your wrist, and the other end to his. Just another layer of comfort for you. “I can still taste the cigarette.”

“Me too.”

“How did you do that?”

“Practice. It’s kinda scary, though.”

He’s not sure you can give him an actual answer. “Practice? How is it…” Strange things have always happened to him, but you came along and made everything a little bit more strange. “Can you feel yourself doing it? Like, physically?”

“Yeah, it’s like floating, and then it slowly feels more real. The first few times I couldn’t get to you, or speak loud enough for you to hear. But last night…I think the distance made it easier, or maybe my emotions amplified everything.

“I like it.” He tugs the string and pulls you closer before drifting back to sleep.

*

…I think she might be—

He stops to think and glances at your sleeping face. It looks dreamless and happy, but he can’t know for sure.

…special. Well, I knew that, but more than that. Magical? Powerful. Is she like that with everything, or just me? Me and the boys. Maybe that’s why she makes me feel so weak.

When you wake again, Seungmin is up and typing away on his phone. A new journal entry, you think. You can’t see him until he pulls the screen a few more inches from his face, but he’s smiling when he does.

Why was she sent to me?

It’s not something he should be wondering, but Seungmin still knows he doesn’t deserve your love; your kindness; your care and your protection. He’ll never feel truly and completely deserving of the things you give him. If there is something in the universe that listens to prayer, maybe it sent you. If that monster in the woods is real, and those dogs, then maybe God is, too. It could be that all those late night prayers his mother sent into the sky came back down in the form of you.

I can’t let anything happen to her, and that means I can’t let anything happen to me.

“What are you doing, Minnie?”

But your sleepy morning voice, and the look you give him; the sun coming in to catch the green and brown and gold in your eyes—Seungmin would set the world on fire if you asked him to. He would kill. Has he killed for you already? “Just…thinking. Jal jassoyo?”

“Yeah, did you?”

“I did. Are you…does it make you tired? Seems like something that takes a lot of energy.”

“It does, but I’m okay. Did you turn my alarm off?”

He nods with a guilty look on his face. “They ate well.”

The cigarette taste is still on his breath when you kiss him, and you pull him until he wraps himself around you completely. The boys are asleep and comfortable, so you have one thing on your mind. Seungmin is well aware of that before you move a hand across his thigh. He must have been hoping for this, thinking about it, because he’s nowhere close to soft when your fingers touch him. And he moans sweetly in your ear when you start to stroke, slowly and gently.

“What are you in the mood for, hmm?” His whisper is laced with quiet laughter, and his soft kisses grow a little more desperate each time he tastes your skin.

“This…you…everything.”

Seungmin is up and pulling at what little clothing you have on, then dizziness hits—a moment of lightheadedness. It passes quickly, and he wants to ignore it, but you seem to notice. He's surprised at your decision to ignore it as well. It’s a stupid decision, for both of you, but you’re both touch-starved and deprived of each other. He braces himself and grabs your thighs…Seungmin has tunnel vision and all he wants is to look in your eyes and feel himself inside of you. He can taste it already, but the dizziness returns twofold, and then threefold. Everything goes black…again.

it’s a familiar dream, and a familiar feeling. until it's not. he can feel the grass on his back, cold and damp. the smell of pine burns his nostrils and the back of his throat, and if he just keeps his eyes closed, he’ll wake up eventually. a dog barks in the distance, that sweet little daengmo-like bark, and after what feels like hours, he decides it’s time to get up.

it’s exactly what he imagined in his head. the forest. he’s not sure if he’s dreaming, though, because his mind is full of memories. the dream of Heecheol in the woods with him, the kiss, the night he wandered into the woods and scared the hell out of you. no, he just recalls doing it, but not…he stops himself and closes his eyes again.

Seungmin woke up that night and watched you sleep for a long time. ten or fifteen minutes, maybe longer. He kissed your forehead, the tip of your nose, and you didn’t stir one bit. When he rose from the yo, you still didn’t stir. The t-shirt he pulled off before bed is thrown back on as he heads for the door, because he hears something odd. There used to be a flashlight in the kitchen drawer right next to this door, but it’s no longer there, so he can’t see a damn thing when he pulls the curtain aside to look. But he hears it—the sloppy sound of boots, feet…something unsticking from the mud, a grunt that doesn’t seem quite human. Why isn’t he scared? Someone could be out there, and he’s here, unarmed, and the most precious thing in his world is asleep in the next room.

Stepping outside for a better look feels stupid. It is stupid. He slowly twists the deadbolt until it clicks, and it’s unbelievably loud. Another grunt. Just twist the lock again and go to bed, he thinks, bit he doesn’t. Seungmin pulls the door open and is greeted with his backyard, dark and empty and quiet.

“I’m here puppy, I’m so sorry”

“Umma?” He whispers into the cold night air. “I can hear you. Can you hear me?”

“come see me, please”

There is no hesitation as he hops over the threshold and descends the steps. No fear of the dark or of the sounds that came from it, because it’s quiet as he navigates the muddy pathway toward the greenhouse. But he doesn’t quite make it.

“Minnie, come see me”

He stops in front of the shed and feels his stomach churn. Bile and partially digested dinner burns there, and then in his chest as it searches for the fastest route out. “No.” he retches once, and the second time, everything comes out and onto the grass and shed door in front of him. He goes cross-eyed in an attempt to focus, and then the shed door swings ever-so-slightly outward, back and forth, like the wind is catching it just right.

“you will, or I’ll pluck out her eyes”

The voice changes from his mother to the gravelly sound of his stepfather. Cigarette smoke fills his nostrils as the shed door creaks, but it’s the sound behind him that gets his attention—the pull of something stuck in mud, a grunt, and a new smell.

“I’ll open her up and—“

“Stop!” He screams, but it comes out scratchy and weak from his burning throat. “S-st…” Turning was a mistake. Leaving the house and the warmth of the bed was a mistake. It takes a few more steps to the left, all four limbs on the ground, and stops. The bleach white of its face shines like the moon and cuts right through the dark, and the sound; the inhuman grunt, makes Seungmin’s legs tremble.

“…eat a little piece of you”

How can he hold back his fear. “You won’t touch her, or them.”

“Minnie, don’t listen to it, not again”

Is it really her this time? “Umma?”

“Go back, don’t listen to it”

The voice starts to distort and he can’t tell for sure. It could be the monster, or it could be stepfather. The smell still surrounds him and he’s feeling nauseous again. Lightheaded, confused. Why isn’t the medicine helping? he thinks.

“stupid pup…I’m betting impatient. let’s go”

The back of his head starts to throb and he thinks he feels something warm trickle down his neck and shoulders. Trembling legs won’t keep him up much longer. "Tokki!” the most feeble attempt at a holler reaches the monster. It certainly doesn’t reach beyond it. You don’t want her anywhere near it but he’s—

...he’s out. When he wakes again, after what feels like seconds, his face is shoved in the damp earth, mouth and nose filled with soil. There’s the sound of insects crying, and nothing else, for a few more beats. Next is the familiar grunt and a gruff exhale of breath. The thought of looking at it again makes him want to cry, and he can already feel the vomit crawling up his throat. His mind turns to you. Have you woken up and noticed him missing? You’ll be worried…sick with it.

“look at me”

It’s the buzzing voice he hears when it’s time, the taunting hum, the inescapable urge. The sides of his skull feels like it could break from the vibration. Seungmin rolls until he’s gazing at the night sky—no moon in sight, but he knows it’s close. If only he could lay eyes on it, maybe he could get through this, but he knows he won’t. What he sees in his peripheral is the horrible white face moving closer, first on four legs that seem too long for it's body, and then it rises until only two remain on the ground. It changes, he thinks, or maybe his brain forgets some detail when it’s gone. The smallest mercy, except it’s worse every time he sees it again.

The buzzing slowly subsides before returning much worse. The pressure makes his ears pop and his eyes water. a trickle of blood leaves his nose, and then another. Seungmin can’t catch his breath from the pain. He’ll die out here and you’ll find him, eventually...his cold, stiff corpse. But just as the thought of his death crosses his burning, static-filled brain, everything stops. Quiet, then the chatter of bugs. It won’t kill him, but it will take him to the very edge because it needs to.

“she’s made you weak”

It’s back on all fours as it circles him. The pain and vibration might be gone, but there’s a magnetic pull burning through him as the monster moves.

“you used to have so much in you, I’ll have to eat them if you starve me”

Seungmin sees flashes of light, and then spots of darkness as it continues to pull at him. It speaks once more before he passes out.

“…both of them”

*

Slowly, he comes to, and as soon as he does, he can tell he’s surrounded. But right in front of him is you, wild-eyed and as pale as he’s ever seen anyone, he thinks.

“Minnie, oh…you’re awake, don’t—”

“M-museun iriyaaa?”

“Hush, just stay still. Don’t you move.”

Everything is foggy and echoes in his head, but he hears you well enough. He hears the accent that seems to intensify when you’re scared, or excited, or mad. “Where am I?”

“You're at home, in bed.”

He feels the rug beneath his fingers, and then a bright light blinds him. Look at me. His heart races until he sees the paramedic shining a penlight in each eye. Seungmin flinches away from the pain.

“You had a seizure, according to your wife.” He grabs Seungmin’s wrist to feel his pulse. “I highly advise you come to the hospital for an assessment.”

“No, not again.”

“Seungmin, you were having a fit for almost three minutes. You have to.”

The paramedic speaks up again. “How recent is this forehead wound?”

The last few days are blurring together. “That’s from…uhm, about two days ago.”

“He may have a concussion if seizures are unusual for him. An overnight observation would be a good idea.”

Seungmin shifts a little, but winces. He doesn’t want to admit how spotty his vision is, even though he knows your safety depends on his well-being.

“Can you take him there, please?” The paramedic nods to you, and then to his partner. When you look back to Seungmin, he’s pouting. “I’ll meet you down there with the boys.” The pout stays, but he looks at you with the biggest, wettest eyes you’ve ever seen on him, and nods. "I'll stay with you, I promise."

The moment his head hits the flat hospital pillow, he’s out, even with the nonstop noise in the emergency room they shoved him in again. You can see why he was reluctant to return, and if they can get him to an actual room, he might be comfortable.

But you learn this is not the same hospital as before, so the nice doctor that called you won’t be here.

“Deuleogado doelkkayo…May I come in?”

A pair of expensive looking shoes stand below the curtain the four of you are behind. They’ve been sleeping soundly, but that won’t last forever. “Yes.” A young looking doctor enters slowly, eyes going first to the stroller by your side. It’s relatively small, considering it holds two, but it still takes up a good chunk of the space you’re in. Then his eyes move to you, look you over carefully (and respectfully), but his eyes sit on your necklace for a few long seconds.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Lee. We spoke very briefly a few days ago, I’m sure you remember.”

“Oh you are here! But this isn’t St. Mary’s…I didn’t think…”

“No, but they have a shortage of psychiatrists who can be on-call, so I jump between both when needed. Lucky to run into him again, I think.”

“You’re a psychiatrist? Do you know when he’s going to get his tests done? It’s so loud down here.” You don’t think he can help with that, but you’re desperate for him and the babies to be a little more comfortable.

“I’ll see what I can do. If he was brought by ambulance, he should be higher priority.”

He’s your savior a second time, because not ten minutes later, Seungmin is on his way to a private room, and then, finally, to get his head looked at. You get to stretch out and feed them in peace as you wait, but you’re nervous that they’ll find something wrong. Or is not finding anything worse? Can they even see a concussion on a ct scan? No, you don’t think, but it was written on his chart after a very brief visit from a neurologist—a mild concussion caused by self-inflicted blunt force trauma. 정신과 상담 (psych consult) is written directly beneath it, despite telling them he has a doctor and is already medicated.

A knock on the door startles you, but you finish up, clothe yourself, and invite them in. It’s Dr. Lee, who you’re relieved to see. “Thank you for everything.” You stand, and he gives you a no big deal type of wave. “I mean it. He might still be stuck in that jail if you hadn’t contacted me. How did you find me, anyway?”

“Oh, Seungmin’s regular doctor, Jiyoun, was a classmate of mine, and still a good friend. I told her what happened and she gave me his emergency contact, which was you. He was so desperate to get a hold of you, and clearly unwell, so…”

You thank him again and watch as he stares wide-eyed at the babies, both awake and satisfied. “They thank you, too. His absence did not go unnoticed by them.”

“I’m glad I could get their dad back to them. They…um, they’re very handsome boys.”

There’s another knock, and before you can get a word out, the door slides open and in he comes looking miserable in his wheelchair. You can’t remember the last time you saw that sour face, but it may have been the day he told you to leave. He says hi to you in his most pathetic, sleepy voice, and the nurse lets him crawl into bed on his own.

“All done, now you can sleep…unless you’re hungry.”

He carefully rubs his hand over his hair, maybe forgetting he no longer has bangs to push side. “I’m hungry.”

You spend the night with him, which you’re grateful for, but didn’t expect. The staff on this floor have been exceptionally kind and accommodating, providing a nursery cot for each boy, right from the maternity ward. If it’s anything like where you’re from, it’s because they know he has money. But maybe it doesn’t work that way here. You’ll take pity or ass-kissing if it means he’s being cared for, so it doesn’t matter much right now. There won’t be any answers until morning, so you watch him sleep for a while, and eventually, you catch up with him…

*

“Seungmin?” Quietly at first, always, because he might be close and you don’t want to scare him. “Are you here?” You’ve slowly gotten better at this, and maybe he’s become more receptive to it, even with a concussion. “Let me in, sweetie.” Everything around you feels wavy and uneven, like looking through a fish tank, but only when you lose focus. The rest of the time it’s just a little softer than real life. The softness is nice, though; it’s quiet and calm in here right now, and you wonder for a moment if you jumped into Haneul or Haesung by mistake. “Seungmin?”

There are no background noises this time. No birds or bugs, and no humming to lead the way. You’re a moment away from letting go when something in the atmosphere, or whatever it is, changes. The lines of his world are soft, but it starts to turn gauzy and broken every time you focus in one spot. The sky, clear and blue a moment before, grays ever so slightly, and your legs shake as if the ground below you shifts. He here’s somewhere, and you don’t see or hear him after what feels like a mile long walk, but you do catch a new smell in the air. It’s the same smell from your dreams about the shed, the ones you haven’t had in months. “Seungmin…” You don’t holler again, it just comes out in an exhausted sigh.

“Hello.”

You stop in your tracks, but you keep your head down, because it’s not Seungmin’s voice you hear. The voice is familiar, though. “Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You don’t think I make it into his dreams?” Heecheol takes a step out from the trees. “What do you think he dreams about?”

“Where is he?”

“Resting, I’m sure. Recharging. Quite a week he’s had, right?”

The twinkle in his eye makes you want to slap him until he bruises, until he can’t see straight. Touching takes a lot more effort, though. “Sure. Where is he?”

No words, just a quick glance to his right, and then he’s gone like you expect a dream person to dissolve away. You head in that direction until the smell makes your eyes water. The decay of plant and animal mixed with wet soil, mixed with pine, mixed with jasmine and almond. It’s not a good scent, but you keep going until, at last, you see him. He’s on the ground, face up, and it looks like he’s sleeping, so Heecheol was telling you the truth. Seungmin is sleeping in his dream, so does that mean he’s not really dreaming? You approach him anyway. This version of him looks the same as he did a week ago; no forehead stitches, hair sweeping perfectly across his forehead.

A grunt stops you from taking the last step. It almost sounds human, but not quite, so your heart skips a little before true fear sets in. Goosebumps move up your arms and every hair stands on end as you reach for him, but a louder grunt reels your arm right back against your chest. It echoes in the small clearing, and a crunch of footsteps makes everything go watery again. The focus is gone for a moment, and you wish it would have remained that way, but you reach for him again and touch his soft, cold cheek. “No…no, Seungmin?”There’s a thin line of blood coming from his nose and mouth, and a smear across his temple and cheek. You see what you didn’t see before, because you weren’t looking. Seungmin’s eyes are half lidded and heavy, lips dry and pale. His chest rises with a desperate pull for air just as something wet and cold and hits your face. It grips and squeezes your jaw and you somehow wonder in that moment if it missed your throat, but when you look to see what’s on the other end, all you can see is the blur of fingers moving closer. A muffled scream makes it out, but your hands find and grip Seungmin’s cold arm. It’s just a dream he’s dreaming I’m dreaming we’ll wake up. Why does your heart feel like it's close to exploding? Closing your eyes and relaxing does not help. That’s what you tell Seungmin to do when his sleep paralysis returns, but this isn’t quite the same, is it? They remained closed, though, because those sharp fingers were reaching for something. When they can’t get what they want, those fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze.

"Stay away from him, you little bitch. Who do you think you are?"

That voice. It belongs to your mother, and so does the body. Your eyes open to hers, identical in shape and color to yours, and for a brief moment it feels like looking in a mirror. The hands suffocating you are hers, and you start to feel deprived of oxygen as she grips tighter. Oh, I know this…I know this feeling. Whatever focus you had left slips away, and though you’re dreaming, it feels like falling asleep…

“Tokki? Hey…c’mon. I know you’re tired love, but please wake up.”

His voice is a comfort to hear. His touch is soft and warm on your arm, and then on the cheek he caresses. The warmth of the sun coming in from the window, and the scent of coffee already on his breath is almost like being home again. You think you hear Haesung cry a little—he’s a little quieter than his brother, so you need to go to him. Both of them.

“Please wake up.”

Why does he sound like he’s crying? And why can’t you move? Is this sleep paralysis? Open your eyes. No, relax. Breath. You can feel the movement of air in and out of your lungs, and the rise and fall of your chest. So why can’t you move to touch him, or open your eyes to look at him? You’ve never wanted to see his face so badly than you have at this very moment.

You say his name in your head over and over, and then beg for him to shake you or slap you or anything. And then you scream it. This has to be a dream.

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