dreamy day over the horizon

hi. this writing blog is mostly about vixx, but allegiances waver now & then^^ mostly things i've never finished. pls read my tags for more info on each thing!

[thewritershandbook]

Words used to describe hair                            

[miishine]

hyuk/hongbin -- I’ll say your name

genre: uhhhh highschool au? ish? warnings: some mild sexual contents words: 2,7k a/n: technically it IS kinda finished I had planned some smut but it never happened

hongbin hated the times that he would watch sanghyuk laugh, walking in a direction that was pointing away from him with his other friends.

„Hi, my name is Sanghyuk!“

The first thing Hongbin thought as he heard the bright voice drift over the hedge was ‚I don’t care‘. That thought quickly left his mind, though, as his eyes laid on a young boy, maybe two or three years younger than he was, with a smile bright enough to light up the dim sky that was hanging over them.

„I’m your new neighbour!“

Hongbin’s eyes wandered to a truck with a banner that read „Need help with the muscle work? We’ll move you fast and easy!“, parked next to the drive in of his house. He wondered how he could have missed it before, it was indeed quite big.  He shrugged mentally, bringing his attention back to the grinning boy on the other side of the bush hedge.

Hongbin didn’t bother to open his mouth to reply, but his eyes wandered over the figure of the other boy (or, well, as much as he could see of it) in interest. The boy simply kept on smiling, seemingly unfazed by the lack of response. Hongbin noted that his nose was slightly potato-shaped at the end, and for some reason, he found himself thinking it adorable beyond reason.

„I’m seven, by the way,“ Sanghyuk went on, his delighted expression unchanging, „but to be honest, I can’t wait until I am ten and my parents give more allowance that I can decide how to spend myself!“ He beamed, and in Hongbin’s mind the action registered a little more like an intimidating glow.

But the new boy was on a roll, and before Hongbin knew it, he had already memorised his favourite sports and food, the way he liked to drink his cocoa (but only on a cold day when you can hear the wind howling in the house - Hongbin had to refrain from pointing out that the houses in this neighbourhood were probably build against that) and where he was going to attend school. Which was, excitingly (at least for Sanghyuk), the same school Hongbin was going to.

Hongbin wasn’t sure when it happened, but somehow Sanghyuk had managed to get his name and age out of him even though Hongbin had had no intention of giving any piece of information to him. He didn’t often find himself talking to a stranger this easily, and part of him thought that maybe, something about Sanghyuk could have been fate. Or luck. Or maybe just sheer coincidence.

–

„It’s raining like crazy, come inside!“

Hongbin heard Sanghyuk’s voice echo through the downpour, and he couldn’t help the smile that was forming on his face, just like any other time the other called out for him.

It had been five years since Sanghyuk had moved into the house next to Hongbin’s, and looking back on it now, Hongbin thought that it was the best thing that had ever happened in his life. Obviously his life was far from over yet, but Hongbin was positive, as he was running for shelter through the door that Sanghyuk enthusiastically opened for him, that nothing as good could ever happen to him again.

„Hyung, what were you even doing out there in this weather? You’re drenched!“ Sanghyuk exclaimed playfully, his still somewhat prominent babyface reminding Hongbin each time that he was, in fact, two years younger. Not that it really mattered. Hongbin simply shrugged, a smile spreading on his face.

„I just felt like enjoying it.“

Sanghyuk sent him a slightly incredulous stare, but he knew that questioning the older wouldn’t bring him anything. He had grown accustomed to Hongbin’s weird habits (they weren’t really habits - more a bundle of weird things he’d do, like laying down into the freshly mown grass with his nose buried deep in between the green leaves, or how he’d balance a book on his head while he was watching TV), to a point where they didn’t actually surprise him. Still, the slightly disbelieving look Hongbin got out of it spiked him into doing more every time, just because the way Sanghyuk’s eyebrow drew together in confusion was much too cute to bear.

„You just feel like a lot of things,“ Sanghyuk mumbled into the air in front of him, not really planning on letting it be heard, but not really wanting to hide it, either.

It made Hongbin grin, how the boy was trying to be more grown up, more cool; puberty was slowly starting to hit Sanghyuk (not like Hongbin, who, despite being 2 years older, still sulked over not yet having had that real grow spurt that would make him finally taller than Sanghyuk), and even though Hongbin knew that he was in no position to talk, he found it outright hilarious.

„Stop trying to act cool, you’re still just a kid.“ He snickered, dashing past the younger to make his way up to his room.

Sanghyuk followed after him swiftly, grumbling something about not being a kid at all, considering he was still just as tall as the older boy. As payback Sanghyuk was met with a soft feeling against his cheek when he reached the top of the stairs. Spluttering slightly, hurriedly bringing a hand up to wipe at his face, he looked at Hongbin with horror in his eyes.

„Eeeew! Hyung, don’t do that!“

Hongbin simply laughed. „See, if something like that grosses you out, there is no way you are not a kid anymore!“ Sanghyuk sent him an annoyed side glance before stomping past Hongbin and into his room.

Hongbin didn’t tell Sanghyuk that it was his first kiss, and he waited a few more seconds before following after him in favour of brushing his fingers over his lips. Contrary to Sanghyuk, Hongbin’s hormones had already kicked in - and that left him with a much more confusing fluttery feeling in his stomach than when he was standing outside in the rain, alone.

–

Hongbin hated the times that he would watch Sanghyuk laugh, walking in a direction that was pointing away from him with his other friends. It were always these kind of times when it hit Hongbin just how much of a loner he actually was, because Sanghyuk’s usually bright and cheerful presence made him feel the complete opposite.

Hongbin wasn’t upset that Sanghyuk had other friends; he was one of the most popular boys in the school, with his good grades and winning smile and bright personality. There was just a part of Hongbin that wanted Sanghyuk for himself, as much as his brain told him that was a stupid thing to ask for.

It wasn’t only that there were more times lately that Sanghyuk went out with someone else - that was a sad thing in itself, too. Hongbin mostly disliked the fact that now, after graduating, he couldn’t walk home with Sanghyuk anymore, like they had done uncountable times before. He was in his first year of college, and that brought other duties with it than watching your childhood friend beat you at Mario Kart.

The whole childhood friend thing was a problem to Hongbin, too, but that was a road Hongbin didn’t like to tread. He had seen it innumerable times in movies - crushes on your childhood friend were never meant to end well. And yet, as he felt the sharp pain at seeing Sanghyuk walk away, Hongbin couldn’t help but hope that maybe their story would take a different turn.

As it was now, anyway, with Hongbin hanging his head low and walking away dejectedly, it didn’t really seem likely to him.

–

“Nnng, hyung-“

Hongbin’s eyes were wide open, fixed on the dark ceiling above him in strain. He didn’t know how he got into this situation - Sanghyuk lying next to him, moaning his name in his sleep.

Well, he knew how he got into the ‘lying next to him’ part. It was one of their frequent Sleep Over Saturdays, one of the schedules they could still indulge in even with school and college and all the important stuff. Sanghyuk had come over to Hongbin’s house in the afternoon, and they had made a point of just lazing around without any plan. They had gone to bed rather early for their shared evening - maybe 12.30? - and that could have been the reason why Hongbin had had a rather restless sleep, waking at the smallest sounds. Though he had been 160% sure that he must have been dreaming when he heard Sanghyuk’s needy voice breaking through the silence of the night. At first Hongbin was frozen in place, thinking that Sanghyuk might have been awake. It turned out that he was simply sleep talking though, well, if one could call moaning someone’s name in their sleep something simple.

At the current moment, it was anything but simple for Hongbin.

It could be someone else, he told himself. After all, he wasn’t the only one Sanghyuk called hyung, he couldn’t be. But something in the way the name fell from Sanghyuk’s lips made it clear very clear who was meant by it - and it didn’t help Hongbin go back to sleep the in the slightest. He kept tossing, trying to focus onto anything that was not Sanghyuk and the heat emanating from the body next to his, trying to get his mind to concentrate on being lulled back into blissful oblivion. As much as he wished for it, though, it didn’t work.

“H-Hongbin…”

He shuddered as he listened to his name echoing in the dreadful silence. It was the first time he heard Sanghyuk say it without formalities. It was laced with things Hongbin wouldn’t, couldn’t think about right now, almost raw feelings at the base, and yet he found himself turning to his side, eyes falling onto the younger’s sleeping form.

Sanghyuk’s face was halfway bathed in the moonlight shining through the window (Sanghyuk didn’t like it when Hongbin would close the curtains, so Hongbin didn’t), giving his profile a somewhat eerie (and very cheesy, if Hongbin was to think about it) glow. His lips were parted, giving room for the little noises that spilled past them, and Hongbin could see the younger’s hand grope at the sheets.

The more Hongbin looked the more he felt heat pooling in his stomach. Guilt was washing over him at the thought that he was basically spying on Sanghyuk’s private moment, but then again, he figured that as this was his room, he was just as much part of this as Sanghyuk was. His eyes wandered over the little quirks of Sanghyuk’s face, and Hongbin didn’t realize how long he must have been staring until Sanghyuk stirred a little at another, rather needy call of Hongbin’s name stumbling out of his mouth.

Before he was really aware of, Hongbin found himself in the line of Sanghyuk’s still somewhat sleep-drunk yet horrified, stare. He felt his cheeks tinge with an embarrassed blush, and he immediately averted his eyes, feeling caught like a deer in headlights.

“Oh god,” Sanghyuk started, his groggy voice laced with slight horror, “hyung, did you… did you just hear that?”

Hongbin didn’t answer, simply ducked his head a little at the question. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, he didn’t want to admit something both of them knew very well had just happened. He stayed silent, hoping that Sanghyuk would keep quiet, too.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry, hyung, I just- I don’t know what-“ Hongbin could practically feel Sanghyuk’s eyes landing on his brightly pink coloured cheeks then, and he brought his arms over his head to hide any traitorous indication of the affect Sanghyuk’s sleep talking had had on him.

The air between them was heavy with silence for a few minutes, and Hongbin didn’t dare to pry a look. Then he felt Sanghyuk shift beside him, closer, so that their body’s weren’t entirely touching, but the anticipation of warm skin was still there. He could hear Sanghyuk letting out a steadying breath.

“H-hyung, did you- did you like it?”

Sanghyuk’s tone was soft, but Hongbin knew him well enough to hear the tremor of his nerves laced in with the words.  He thought about how his own nerves were eating away at any kind of coherent thought. Guilt spread through him again at the fact that he probably wasn’t making things any easier for the younger; the situation in itself was already bad enough.

Hongbin nodded hesitantly, feeling a new surge of heat in his cheeks. He liked it. Oh god, yes he did. He just couldn’t tell Sanghyuk how much. It was weird, it was wrong (was it really wrong? Hongbin didn’t know anymore), it wasn’t how Sanghyuk was supposed to find out about how his smiles sent quivers through Hongbin’s muscles, how his voice could elicit his brightest smiles, how a simple brush of his hand over Hongbin’s could make his heart race at light’s speed.

Hongbin felt fingers curl around his wrists, tugging slightly. Hongbin thought about protesting, but then again he couldn’t protest against Sanghyuk, not really. He let his arms being pulled away from his still heated face, blinking up at Sanghyuk in pure embarrassment.

“Don’t…” Hongbin said, closing his eyes, not being able to meet the younger’s own, “… don’t look at me.” He heard Sanghyuk’s low chuckle at the words, and his brows furrowed. “ ’s not funny…” he mumbled, peeking one eye open to see the bright smile plastered on Sanghyuk’s face.

“Hyung, you should see how adorable you are,” Sanghyuk snickered sweetly, the fingers around his wrists loosening as he bend forward. Hongbin simply huffed, but opted to remain quiet, as Sanghyuk now practically lying on top of him tempered a little with his ability to form coherent sentences. “So cute,” Sanghyuk muttered as he looked into Hongbin’s eyes. Hongbin had half a mind to say that no, Sanghyuk was definitely the cute on here, but the latter was inching dangerously close to his face, deflating the remaining air in his lungs and making it really hard to breathe.

Hongbin took a moment to realise it when Sanghyuk’s lips met with his own. The touch was gentle, almost bashful, and it only lingered for a few seconds, but Hongbin’s mind was still reeling from the simple thought that it was Sanghyuk, Sanghyuk, who had just kissed him. On the lips. A real lips to lips kind of thing. Hongbin was sure, now, that he must have been dreaming this whole thing.

Apparently his expression must have been somewhere between hilariously confused and completely terrified, because as Sanghyuk drew back he puffed out an amused laugh, followed by a few apologies.

“Sorry, hyung, I just couldn’t stop myself.” Sanghyuk eyed Hongbin’s still rather incredulously still expression, eyes wide an lips set in a line. “But hey, you look like I’m a really bad kisser.” Sanghyuk frowned a little and threw in a pout, which made Hongbin crash back down on earth. He quickly shook his head in disagreement, too fast in fact, getting his long, slightly curly bangs sticking into his eyes. He blinked ungraciously a few times before he assured Sanghyuk that he was more than good.

“I just. You know, didn’t think…” Hongbin trailed of. He looked over at Sanghyuk’s goofy grin, and for a moment he thought that he had been indeed very, very stupid to miss the way the younger’s eyes would twinkle when they looked at him.

“It’s okay, hyung.”

Sanghyuk moved to lay down next to him, wrapping his arms around Hongbin’s middle to cradle him to his chest (Hongbin noted with a little miff that Sanghyuk would forever be taller and wider than him, sadly), nuzzling his face a little deeper into the older’s neck. Hongbin closed his eyes to ravel in the moment, letting it all sink it.

With a little smile on his face he wriggled a little closer to Sanghyuk’s body to make himself comfortable, but instantly regretted his actions when he heard Sanghyuk gasp into his neck.

“Oh. Uhm. I think I should… go to the bathroom first.”

Sanghyuk quickly climbed over him and off the bed, leaving Hongbin burying his once again overheating face into the mattress in hopes that (if the odds were in his favour) it might, after all, swallow him and this whole ordeal he was getting himself into this night.

[bitchboleyn]

Writing Masterpost

Hey so I have a whole jumbled list of helpful writing stuff I use so I figured why not organize it and make it a masterpost! Here are my favorites:

Blogs

I use these all the time for various stuff but all of them are super useful

@referenceforwriters  HOLY CRAP IS THIS BLOG HELPFUL! They have a ton of references for everything from grammar to historical research to tips on how to accurately write certain topics. I use it when there’s stuff I’m clueless on like kissing lmao. Def recommend them :)

@offdxys All the quotes on here are like their own short stories, they are all beautiful and help me get into a ~writing~ mood 

@excerptsofstories  similar to the one above ^^

@otpmusings  I love this one so much, so many great OTP prompts for when I have major writers block. A third of my drafts are just cute prompts from here honestly

@thewritershelpers has wonderful posts on writing accurate characters or interesting plots! Majorly useful for when you don’t want to be cliche 

Websites

 https://wordcounter.net/  This website is super simple to use and really work with. Obviously the word counter feature is the main draw, but I frequently use the proof read tool which reads your piece back to you so you can hear any mistakes or just problems with the flow in general. 

https://www.translate.com/  So this sounds really random but my go-to strategy for character names/locations is playing around with words in different languages. More inspiring than you’d think

http://www.merriam-webster.com/word-of-the-day I use this to basically learn new words to incorporate into my writing or just impress my English teacher lmao it’s a win win either way

Playlists

Personally I write better to music so here’s a variety of playlists depending on your style

Calm Down  Super chill playlist, very calming

Maybe it’s just me but I really enjoy writing to movie soundtracks like this one and this other one 

Holst: The Planets  Classical orchestra performing pieces based on different planets, a fav because each piece has it’s own mood that’s appropriate for different writing genres like angst, sadness, joy, etc.

Who Run the World?  A playlist of bad-ass women that can be great when you’re awake writing at 3AM

Rain Literally just rain noises which is great or awful depending on how you look at it

Favorite Writers

I am 100% inspired by how talented other writers on here are so here are some of my top cuties in no particular order

@complicashton, @stormycal, @jigglypufftribe, @heymikeys, @1980hood, @gasolinated, @alreadymissings, @thehalcyonclub @asickburnout

Random Stuff

This  post is the answer to all your word problems children, trust me

Video for when you need some motivation

I think that’s it! I will probably add onto this as I discover more, but this is it for now :) Hope this is helpful babes!!

[lanxborealis]

Got any tips for someone who's trying to write a fan fiction? (Is it ok for me to ask for tips every now and then?) ~ really anxious anon

Oh gosh this is a pretty big ask you’re sending me aaand I’m better at more centralized tips but I guess here’s 10 quick tips!

1) Don’t go with your first idea

This is a big one, but PLEASE don’t go with your first idea! When writing an essay or a book, you would never turn in your first draft. Think of your first fic idea as a first draft and rework it! I reworked Life is a Fairy Tale about 4 times, for example. Arguably, this number could be upped to 6-7 times including new changes I’m making. 

2) Have a plan

I know a lot of people go into writing without a concrete idea, but if you really wanna tell a story, have a plan! An outline! What I normally do is list out events or scenes- the beginning scene, ending scene, a scene in which something is revealed, a kissing scene and etc. Everything that happens in your story is a scene, kinda like how everything that happens during a movie is and from there, I group them together as things that would start in the beginning, the middle, and the end. After that I order them again and break those events down into standalone chapters!

This is a really, really fast explanation. Just send me another ask if you need a more thorough one! Another thing is that there are millions of ways to plan stories! Just see what you like and play around! 

3) Dedicate yourself 

This more applies to longer fics than shorter ones, but make sure your motivation won’t run out before starting something and make sure you kinda more or less plan ahead and make sure you can indeed write and post the story! This is hard to do as no one can really peer into the future, but it helps a lot I think! 

4) Accept critique 

Every author, at least once, gets some criticism. I have, many times and sometimes that criticism is stated wonderfully. Other times, it’s very harsh and almost mean. Make sure you can see the difference between people being rude and people who give harsh criticisms! Also, take note of every single one you get, but let it roll off your back. Criticisms are suggestions and should be taken with a grain of sand. Take note and think about them the next time you write. If they improve your writing, great! If not, forget about it! 

Oh and of course, accept true criticism any time it’s offered! It’s the fasest way to see issues in your own writing and making it better! 

5) Don’t expect becoming famous

Don’t expect to get 100 kudos on the first chapter you post of your story. Hell, don’t expect anything at all. Don’t have any viewer expectations what so ever because it will definitely discourage you! Write for yourself and if other people end up liking, that’s fantastic! But don’t expect to get “famous” overnight! 

6) Save, save, save! 

I use Google Docs, so I don’t have to worry but if you use OpenOffice or Word or any other like program, make sure you save as much as you can! You don’t want to lose your work. 

7) Understand your audience 

What fandom are you writing for? What ship are you writing for? Understanding a fandom and what’s popular in it is important. Do you wanna go with the flow and make a fic using a trope that’s popular, or break that and do something totally wild and unique? What’s more popular with the fandom you’re in- dark things or light and fluffy things? Understand the sort of crowd you’ll draw in with your story and understand not everyone is going to like and want to read about that particular subject matter.  

8) Write what you know

Don’t write about something you don’t know about. Whether it be a job, a time period, or whatever. Read up about it. Learn about it. You’ll get stuck or have major inaccuracies that could be too jarring to read. 

9) Don’t rush yourself 

Go at your own pace! Every author gets those “When’s the next chapter?” sort of questions and they can be annoying after a while. Write at your own pace and what you are comfortable with, whether that’s an update every day or maybe only once a year! 

10) Understand basic story and grammar structures 

This is the biggest thing! Understand what literary devices are and how to apply them to your own writing. Maybe read up on literary tropes as well and of course, understand grammar and its rules and you should be good! Likewise, it might be a good idea to read up on story elements as well as understand Freytag’s Pyramid: Exposition, Complication, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, and Resolution. 

I really hope these tips helped, anon. Most really didn’t relate to writing in general, but I don’t know, give you an idea about things and such. If you need any help on more centralized themes- like how to introduce characters or start on opening paragraph or the like, feel free to send me another ask! You can always ask me questions about writing! I’m a huge nerd about it and love to ramble on and on about it! 

[busybby]

hey babes! writing is one of my biggest passions. i love poetry, essays, stories, lab reports, journalism, and any other writing style you can think of probably so i thought i’d just put together some resources to help myself and most importantly, you guys out.

essays

for ap lang & lit

guide to an academic paper

write a kick ass essay in an hour

writing an actual essay in an actual nutshell

write a kick ass essay w half the stress

structuring an essay

tips on writing a thesis statement

free bibliography and citation generator (2)

masterpost on writing essays

lab reports

phrase bank for discussing findings

very basic thing on science reports

writing lab reports and scientific papers (a lil more in depth than the link above)

creative writing

10 things writers don’t seem to know about the woods

when you get stuck in the middle of a scene

on including a theme/symbolism/underlying meaning

character names

unblocking writers block

masterpost of writing resources

journalism

how to write an article

writing a lead

how to write a news story

how to write an editorial (MY FAV THING THIS IS WHAT I LOVE)((i can totally make my own post all about editorials i love them))

the news manual (u know what u can find everything on here)

ok so there are so many types of articles and ways to organize them so if you really want to know about those, just ask me, yeah? 

words

tone vocab list

substitutes for ‘therefore’

substitutes for ‘but’

character personality traits

describe someone’s voice

annoying word things that a lot of people do

synonyms for words that students use a lot

100 sat words

emotions

more sites

type in the meaning and get the word

find the word that’s on the tip of your tongue

find rhymes!!

find synonyms

just this blog in general

60 awesome search engines for serious writers

writing advice

50 best sites for writers

find the right words

hemmingway editor (app that makes your writing bold and clear)

hope this is helpful!!

- annie :-)

[miishine]

taemin/minho -- a red glow in the dark

genre: assassin au, stockholm syndrome au warnings: gore, violence, emotional distress words: 28k a/n: some of you might know this from aff... back in like 2012 or something haha well I’ll sadly never finish, I’m so over this :/ I’m so sorry bc back then I followed shinee’s, uh, p set in a box characters that where popular under the fans... i still cringe at how I wrote kibum I’m so sorry pls forgive me

he let the word roll off his tongue in the most alluring way of his revenge. "die."

Pa-pang.

The sounds echoed over the rooftops and into the dark, cloudy night. There was no moonlight, the shining orb having been hidden by the thick, almost black looking rain containers. It was a light-forsaken night, a killer's night.

Lee Taemin was such a killer.

He looked at the two bodies laying on the cold, hard tiles of the rooftop, silent. Even in the absence of illumination he could see the red, thick liquid spill from their heads. It was as if they were silently crying rivers of crimson tears. Tears that could be caused only by one thing.

'Death.' The young man thought. He let the word roll from his tongue in a whisper, savoring the bittersweet taste it always left behind on his taste buds. Sighing contently, he lifted his hazelnut eyes towards the overcast sky.

Running a fragile looking hand through his blonde-brown, shoulder long locks, Taemin turned his back on the dead bodies and on the rooftop. He didn't bother trying to dissimulate his traces - the government would know it was him right away, even without the hints. There was no other person in South Korea that was still using those old-fashioned guns like he did. Everyone had gone onto laser guns.

Taemin knew that laser guns were more effective nowadays.

For a criminal, it was a lot easier wounding and killing people without having to clear up the mess of blood. You see, laser guns penetrated a body and could inflict deadly injuries. But because of their high density, the blood vessels were instantly sealed up, not letting blood penetrate to the outside. A clear and unsoiled wound.

They had also a big advantage for the police. They could inflict serious wounds to suspects or criminals that were running away, without having to fear that those would die from blood loss. It was quite convenient. But that fact also meant that the government had allowed the police to be more radical when it came to bullet injuries, overlooking the police's mishap of battery while being in function.

Taemin, on the other hand, despised those guns. They were too neutral for his liking. They all looked the same, no individuality showing except for the difference of the numbers engraved in their shafts. Of course he had one of those at home, but he only ever used it when he killed some little fish. He wouldn't soil his precious ones for those.

No, the young man only used his twin shotguns for real jobs. They were old, certain, but they did a better job than any of these fake novelties could. They were heavier than the laser guns, and far more beautiful in his eyes. They were made of darkest steel, their names engraved in intricate letters along their barrels, and when they ripped through the air in his grasp, they let off a dim, red glow. The blonde boy loved the fact that they elicited the blood to spill from their victims, and their names were like music to his ears every time he called them. Yanai and Aminta.

The entrance to Taemin's hideout wasn't far from the skyscraper where he had done his job. It was a small entrance in a sewer line, just enough for him to crawl into with his skinny body. Taemin's frame was lean and looking like it could break any minute, but the years of working out had left him with a lot of strength and firm muscles.

As a criminal, Taemin knew the way around under the never sleeping city of Seoul well. It was only three years ago that he had discovered his present hideout during one of his strolls throughout the vast canalization under the streets. It was a big room that had been hidden behind a wall. Taemin had found it open because of the wall having crashed down, and with a little time and work, he established quite a little cliché criminal's home for himself.

Standing in front of the - to other's eyes dissimulated - door of his hideout, he poked one of the bricks three times in a certain rhythm. The brick suddenly opened, a blue light emanating from the small open space. The determined blue ray scanned Taemin's face once fully, then stopping at the middle of it, as if it waited for something.

"I'm home, Key." The young man said in a gentle, almost caring voice. The brick closed again, and a robotic voice echoed from the wall. "Welcome home, Taemin-ah."

He stepped in as the wall opened like a double wing door.

He had decorated the place simply, only putting what he needed in there. There was a bed in the far left corner of the room, separated from the rest through a long wardrobe with adjoint shelf. The shelf was filled with different small things, objects he picked up during jobs or some of his strays along the city. He liked picking up reminders here and there, mostly during jobs. It made him able to remember the bittersweet feeling the boy got from killing.

In front of the bed, around 8 feet from it to be exact, a small kitchen was installed. The blonde killer wasn't someone who cooked much, but it worked just fine for warming up leftovers or instant food. He didn't need a huge ass kitchen when he barely used it.

In the wall space between the bed and the kitchen was a small and simple bathroom, with a white-colored shower and a toilet. Taemin didn't care if it looked shabby, he was the one installing everything after all. As a wanted criminal you couldn't just go up into the stores and demand someone to install such things in your hideout. Would be pretty stupid.

The right side of the room didn't look like a living space at all. A huge computer screen was plastered against the wall, some smaller ones framing it on both sides. The spot under the screens was taken up by highly modern desk and touch keyboards. Even with the first look one could tell that Taemin had spent a lot of money on this equipment. It had been hard to smuggle into the canalization and through it, but the boy had managed fairly well.

He walked over to the big screen, unfastening his jacket and knives belt. Once he reached the keyboards, the robot-like voice resounded again.

"I see you didn't take long this time either. That job must have been an easy one. How long were you gone, an hour and sixteen minutes?" While the voice spoke, the computer screen had come to life. With each word, blue light emanated from it, lines running across the flat surface like waves.

Taemin chuckled. "Well, you would know it. You record my times for each job, Key."

The computer system let out a low tch. "Be happy I didn't specify the seconds and milliseconds, baby boy."

Taemin frowned at the screen upon those words. "Yah, you're technically younger than me. And you're just a bunch of numbers in a computer system I created. More respect, please!"

Key's echoing, light voice filled the sound proof room with laughter. "Where would you be without me, baby boy. I'm like, what, your mother? Could you tie your shoes without me? I think not."

Sometimes Taemin wondered why he had created Key in the first place. He didn't expect the computer system to be this individual and cocky when he typed in the codes for his character. He had been irritated at first, but Key had quickly become something he couldn't live without, as much as the long haired boy hated to admit it.

Key was fast, precise, trustworthy and, most of all, he made Taemin feel like he had at least one friend. As much as the computer nagged, he still cared for Taemin as well as he could. If there was one computer in the world that was close to being a human, it was Key. And he had a great hand for hacking into the government's computer system without being found out.

The blonde man walked to his bed, turning his back to Key's computer screen.

"Diva." He muttered under his breath, a content smile forming on his lips. It felt good being home again.

~*~*~*~

"P-Please. Show m-mercy." The man under him blabbered through his trembling teeth.

The sight of the older male at his feet, squirming in fear of death, gave Taemin a strange feeling of power and satisfaction. He savored the moment for as long as he could allow himself. The time to end it was coming near. How long had he been dreaming of it? Six Years? Seven? Eight?

The middle-aged man lifted his eyes to meet the cold brown ones of his executioner. What he saw in them exactly no one would ever know, but the emotions his face reflected were the most deforming ones anyone could imagine. His face was torn into an ugly grimace, depicting his misery at the eyes of death.

The blonde haired boy unsecured his red glimmering gun, lowering himself to his feet in front of his prey. The cold barrel was pressed against the man's forehead, Taemin's pale finger playing with the trigger.

He let the word roll off his tongue in the most alluring way of his revenge. "Die."

"YAH! Wake up already, baby boy!"

The resonating voice tore a groaning Taemin out of his sleep almost instantly. He complained, his words muffled by the pillow he hid his face in, screaming in annoyance into the sound gulping fabric. Every night he would dream it again and again. And every morning Key would wake him up just before the most anticipated moment. The instant he pulled the trigger.

Over the years, Taemin had grown frustrated that he never got to see the end of that dream. Every evening he would hop into bed, waiting for sleep to take over his conscience, drowning him in his sweet revenge. A sleeping hallucination he never got to finish. It might sound strange for a cold assassin, but Taemin was quite superstitious. He was afraid, afraid that the fact he never got to finish the dream might have some kind of consequence on the outcome of his goal.

Pulling himself up from the bed, the blonde boy ran a hand through his long locks. Sniffing, he tugged them behind his ear, a yawn escaping his plump lips. Taemin slowly made his way off of the bed to his wardrobe, rubbing his right eye drowsily.

"Taemin, you are almost late for your next job." The computer's voice reached the young man's ears, the words getting rid of his sleepiness almost right away.

The boy's eyes widened in realization. His hands, that were dragging along his few sets of clothes, were now digging through the fabrics hastily. Not caring on what they pulled out, Taemin flung a dark blue chemise over his shoulder onto the bed, which was followed by black skinny jeans and a light red leather vest. He hauled the pieces of clothing onto his skinny frame, not taking note of the disgusted sounds his computer system was making.

"I know you don't care much for appearance in your job, baby boy, but that's just distasteful." The blue waves on the screen signaled.

Taemin glared at the digital screen while hastily jumping into his black buckled boots. "I don't have time worrying about that, Key."

The robotic suffrage scoffed. "Because you never wake up when I tell you to." After a small pause, Key spoke again. "At least wear the black leather vest. Pleeeease?" he begged.

Rolling his eyes, Taemin let the red fabric fall from his shoulders. He grabbed the article Key had told him, and slid it over his milky skin, adjusting it onto it's place.

"You know, this is exactly why I am always late. You never let me wear what I want."

"And you always listen to me, so blame yourself." Came Key's smug answer back.

During their small dialogue, Taemin had already slid on his gun belt. He debated on what guns to use for this job. From what he could distinguish on one of Key's side screens, his target was some confidential person to the Korean Military. Whether it was a criminal or someone from the government, he couldn't tell.

He scanned the information again, his eyes then falling onto the job number. His breath hitched, and he felt a slight tingle starting to built in his stomach.

"K-Key..." he started, his voice breaking.

The voice of the computer system was almost warm and supporting as it spoke. "I know, Taemin-ah. It's time."

Gulping down his excitement as well as his fear, Taemin reached his hands out to grab his two favorites. The guns lay in his hand perfectly, as always, giving him their red glow in encouragement. He smiled down at them, tracing his fingers along their triggers. 'We'll do this one together, then.' he thought.

Securing Yanai and Aminta to the belt on his hips, the blonde assassin moved towards the exit of his hideout. When he reached the door, Key spoke again, his voice soft.

"Be careful, Taemin-ah."

The boy turned around just enough to let the system's camera get a view of the determined glint in his eyes. The anticipation was written over all of the boy's features as he cast the screen an alluring smile.

"Don't worry, Key. I am not going to fail right at the start."

And with those words, Taemin turned his back on his hideout, heading out of the door, his thoughts only on the job beforehand. ' The 100th job.' he thought. After getting over with this, he'll have enough money. After this, he'll be fully prepared.

After this, nothing will be able to stop him from his revenge.

Almost two hours had passed since Taemin positioned himself in a small alley near to his target's meeting spot. It was a big, fashionable glass building, almost one hundred stories high, and it was one of the best hotels in town. He had had quite some troubles finding a good hiding spot in view of it, and he was surprised that the guards hadn't noticed him up till now. Though the guards weren't the subject of his worry at that moment.

Taemin started to get fidgety. He had always been patient. You had to be in this job. But something about this was not the way it should have been. According to his information, his target should have entered said building about forty-five minutes ago.

'Did something happen on his way here?' the young man thought. But as quickly as the thought had crossed his mind, he dismissed it. The targeted man was a confidential person to the government. There was no way there should have been a disturbance. The government wouldn't let that happen. 'Except they can't stop me.' the blonde said to himself smugly.

If he dismissed the thoughts of some accident, he could only think of two other reasons. Either the meeting was canceled, which he really hoped didn't happen, or his target was summoned somewhere else. Taemin got out his cellphone and anxiously texted Key's system. He'll have to check it out.

Key's reply came almost instantly. The speed with which the computer worked amazed Taemin every time. He didn't know what he would do without him. His brown eyes scanned the contents of the text, widening as he read through the information.

Target on the way.

Was forced to escort some higher up's son.

No information on who it is.

Better be careful.

Taemin's mind processed what he was reading. Some higher up's son? Why would he have to escort some kid to his meeting place? And who is that boy? The questions formed in his mind like a fast spreading virus. Something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. But whatever reason there was behind this strange change in the plan, there must be a good one. The kid must be important. 'And at least the target's still on his way.'

While Taemin made up thoughts on how the escorted kid could benefit his plans for revenge, three cars parked in front of the building. The assassin's attention shifted from his thoughts to the arrival of the driving machines, his eyes glued to the car in the middle.

It was a silver car, definitely one of the newest sports car models. It looked detailed, fast, and expensive. But the blonde's mind wasn't focused on the vehicle. It was scanning the two figures that were getting out of it.

The older man, probably in his mid-forties, wore a suit to which Key would have groaned in disgust. It was striped in dark blue and green, a combination that didn't enhance the character's charisma well. The cuffs' buttons were golden, and it gave the entire outfit an air of cheapness. For a man with such a car, the suit sure was uncommon. The face of the man was round, like his belly, and his lips were thin. They were curved up into a smile towards the young man he was tapping on the shoulder, but the gentleness didn't reach his eyes. It was clear he didn't like babysitting some kid, no matter how rich his father was.

The younger male, that was standing next to Taemin's target, was tall and well built. He wore normal clothes, blue jeans with a black T-shirt and a black leather jacket. It was clear to see that he was rich by the way he dressed, but that he didn't want to show it off. 'Probably one of those 'I-don't-care-that-I-am-rich-I'm-just-me' kinda guys.' Taemin thought. He moved a bit to get a view of the young man's face. If he could identify him, he would know if he was useful.

When the assassin saw the other boy's face, his eyes widened and his body froze.

The kid's face was utterly handsome. He had big, round eyes that were colored in a deep shade of black. His nose was straight and perfectly shaped, and his lips were round and full. His black hair fell around his face in light curls and onto his shoulders, enhancing his slender neck.

But as breathtaking as the boy's features might have been to some, it wasn't the reason for Taemin's reaction. When Taemin saw the young man's face, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that right there at that moment, he was confronted with the face he had seen on so many pictures while plotting his revenge. And he didn't need to look at the buzzing text Key had sent him the moment he had seen the boy to know his name, and who he was.

It's Choi Minho.

You know who he is.

Yes, Taemin knew who the boy was. He had plotted numerous ways of kidnapping him over the last few years, ever since he found out that the kid was that man's son.

He had plotted to drag him into a car on his way back from University. Or to come onto him after his soccer practice, when everyone else left the room but him, then tying him and locking him up somewhere.

He had wanted to kidnap him to get to his father. The man that had ruined everything in Taemin's life. The man that Taemin wanted to see dead so bad.

But now that the perfect opportunity arose on it's own, without Taemin having to pull the strings, he didn't know what to do. The only thing he knew was that he had to get Choi Minho. The costs didn't matter.

Throughout all of the town, the assassin's computer system must have somehow felt what his programmer thought. After all, Key had been installed to know everything about Taemin in order to serve him to his full possibilities.

And for that, he sent the blonde boy one last message.

Don't let go of the plan.

It's too dangerous.

But he knew that it was already too late.

Taemin had shut down his cellphone, already making his way into the hotel, after Choi Minho.

Taemin sat around the corner of the room Choi Minho had been led into about five minutes ago. The blonde assassin had sneaked into the hotel almost right behind his target, being careful not to awake any suspicion. Calmly and without hurry, he had tailed the tall young man and his hideously clad actual target to the elevator. The middle-aged man had made compliment after compliment to the dark haired boy next to him, showering him with questions about his father, his status, and his personal life.

Taemin had almost felt bad for the guy, if it hadn't been for the fact that he had more important matters on his mind right now. He hadn't been able to get into the elevator. And he didn't know the story they were going to stop at. But lucky for him, the second metal cabin opened up just when the other indicated, after stopping at the 58th floor, it's way back down to the lobby.

In fact, everything had seemed to be so simple until now, that Taemin was more wary than usual. As his one knee was rested on the floor of the corridor around the corner of the targeted room in a sort of squatted fashion, the young boy couldn't help but go through every possibility that could occur. 'I wonder what is so important about that boy that they had him escorted by a confidential, of the military no less.' The blonde asked himself. Of course, he already knew part of the answer. 'I bet his father can't let his baby boy out of his sight for one second.' He thought with mocking disgust. The thought about that man evoked raw hatred in his being.

The boy was torn out of his thoughts by the noise of the door opening and closing. He could hear shuffling sounds, as a few men made their way down the corridor, back towards the elevator. The assassin quickly stood up, and leaned himself further into the wall in a learned manner, hoping to escape the passing eyes.

When the men passed Taemin's hideout, he quickly counted their number. '1, 2, 3, 4, 5... And my former target.' He processed the information in his head. 'Hmmm. One of the guards isn't there. He must have been left behind to guard him...'

The hidden boy waited a few more minutes before he dared to move. He slowly and carefully made his way out of his hiding spot, scrutinizing the hallway with his sharp eyes. Making sure that he saw no sign of a living thing roam around, he made his way towards wooden door number 5831.

When his feet came to a halt in front of it, his fingers absentmindedly trailed over the hilt of one of his guns. It was still hard for him to believe he had gotten so lucky. The 100th job. The last one before he wanted to officially start the hunt. And even before he finished it, he had gotten the best opportunity to trigger everything. 'Fate will surely get back at me.' The young man thought, chuckling bitterly.

After he knocked on the door a few times with his slender fingers, the blonde man moved to the side of the door and pressed himself against the wall, waiting for it to open. After several seconds, it opened with a loud click, and the figure of a black clad man with sunglasses and a gun, that was obviously hidden under his suit jacket, looked out into the corridor. Searching for the obvious, he had missed Taemin standing right next to the door, Yanai being held securely in his right hand.

Before the guard could turn his neck enough to get a hold of the assassin and what he looked like, Taemin brought the hard side of the gun down on his neck with a quick and precise movement. The impact caused the man to lose consciousness right away, and he landed on the floor in between the door with a loud thud.

The young assassin got a hold of the big man fast, bringing his small hands under his armpits. He shuffled the guard back into the room hastily, without much sound, before giving one last look at the still empty corridor. Then, rejoicing soundlessly, he shut the door, locking it.

Once the door was secured, Taemin's attention was immediately brought upon the room. It was a spacious one. From the door, a small hallway led up to a big and luxurious living room, which was adorned with gold-framed paintings, a chandelier that hung majestically from the ceiling, and clearly expensive, beige furniture. Everything in this room screamed excessive at him, and he immediately had the urge to cut everything to pieces.

He advanced towards the living area, forgetting about the guard. He could just lay there on the floor. It wasn't like he would be waking up anytime soon.

When the boy reached was emerged from the hallway fully, his eyes landed on a sitting figure on one of the canapés. Choi Minho.

The slightly older man had his eyes fixed on the assassin the second he entered, his brown orbs widening as he scanned the lean blonde boy. Taemin could see his eyes flicker to the gun he held in his right hand, up to his leather jacket, and lastly, landing on his face. The young man saw fear spreading on the features of his prey, exactly the kind of fear that fueled the killer inside of him.

Taemin's full lips curled up into a cold smirk, which grew even wider as he saw the effect it had on the other boy. The latter had his hands clasped together, his knuckles starting to become white from the pressure he used on them. His teeth sunk into his light pink lips, trying to keep himself from trembling.

Choi Minho was completely scared of the young man in front of him. He didn't know why, but the way the blonde boy stood there, watching him, with his gun in his hand, made him want to run away immediately. He radiated danger, and Minho almost let a yelp escape his lips as the intruder's smirk grew wide, sending unpleasant chills down his spine and up his neck.

Very slowly, as if to tantalize the black haired man, Taemin lifted his right hand, making sure that Yanai clicked menacingly in the process. With the gun barrel resting on his shoulder, he started forward, taking calm but determined steps towards the horrified boy. When he was about two feet away from him, Taemin spoke.

"Are you Choi Minho?" The edge of his voice cut Minho deep into the bones. The voice was light and alluring, but as cold and sharp as steel. Minho knew that even if he would have tried to run, he wouldn't have been able to move.

Trusting his voice to fail him, the black man only nodded, his eyes never leaving his hunter.

The blonde assassin's smile grew into a toothy, dangerous grin. "Good. Really good." Taemin said, noticing that even to him his words sounded slightly mad. But he didn't care how he sounded right now. He had wanted this moment for far too long to worry about his image.

"You have two choices, Choi Minho." Hearing his name being mentioned made Minho flinch. Being called by your full name never meant good things. He had experienced that from his father. Nonetheless, he held the young man's gaze. He'd rather die stubbornly than a coward. Because dieing was exactly what Choi Minho thought would happen.

"Either you come with me out of your own free will, a few tight ties here and there, or you don't, and in that case..." Taemin let the end of the phrase open, convinced Minho knew exactly what he wanted to signalize with it.

Minho's eyes widened even more. Coming with him? ...He wasn't going to kill him? The black haired man opened his mouth to speak, letting escape a rattling sound. That made the blonde boy laugh.

"Are you that scared of me? I thought you were the son of a high ranked bastard of the government. Aren't you used to threats?"

Minho didn't know why, but the way his threatener asked with that mocking tone made him blush. Pushing the halfhearted offence out of his mind, he concentrated on the more important question he wanted to ask.

"W-won't you... you know... k-kill me?" The black haired boy asked in a breaking and anxious voice.

Taemin blinked at the question. Kill him? The blonde assassin looked at the boy sitting in front of him. As strange as it might seem for a killer, the question if he would kill Choi Minho had never crossed his mind. Placing one of his fingers on his lower lip, he looked into space, thinking for a moment. Then his eyes wandered back to Minho, a dangerous glint in them.

"No, I won't kill you." Yet. He added in his mind.

Minho saw the glint in those eyes. He also was aware that there was something left unsaid. For the first time since the boy intruded into the room, he let his eyes wander away from him. He scanned the furniture, the paintings. His brown eyes searched for a reason to stay, a reason to not agree with the proposition the blonde had made. His eyes closed when he realized that probably not even his father would miss him, let alone search for him.

When he opened his eyes again, sadness shone in them as he looked back at Taemin.

"Fine. Kidnap me then."

~*~*~*~

Minho was brought to a sudden stop. He didn't know where he was, and even with frantic turns of his head and the blinking of his eyes, the world around him stayed black. Waiting for some indication of the next move, his mind wandered back, reluctantly, to the happenings after meeting his kidnapper.

After having agreed to come with Taemin by his own accord, as a willing victim, the blonde boy had started to pull out ropes from his trousers' pockets. They had been thin and small, but the way in which they rigidly shone in front of his eyes made him sure that they were ten times stronger than normal ones. The other teenager - Minho couldn't think that the boy kidnapping him was older than 18 - had then started to bind his wrists together behind his back. It was uncomfortable for the black haired young man, but he had known better than to complain.

The assassin had told him to stand up once he was done with tieing him up. Minho had gotten to his feet shakily, wondering what would happen after they had gotten out of the room. He had turned to look into Taemin's cold eyes, only realizing now, while standing, that the other boy was at least five centimeters smaller than him. It had surprised Minho. When he had been sitting down, the killer had looked so overwhelming and huge. But even while he was being taller, the boy had had a manner of moving and looking at him that hadn't let Minho dare to think of a way to get out fo his grasp. There was something in the way the boy's eyes had glinted at him that had made him feel... needed, in the weirdest sense of the word.

The yet unfamiliar blonde boy had yanked him by his arm to the direction of the door, and the ebony haired man's wrists had hurt because of the roughness and force with which the other party had done it. Minho had been confused why the other boy let him basically walk out the door, just after he had made sure that there had been no disturbance in the corridor they had been emerging into. Wouldn't kidnappers normally blindfold their victims, gag them and lead them out of their safety space by a backdoor or something?

Taemin had been doing the exact opposite. He had led his prey to the elevator, standing before it patiently, Minho's big black leather jacket hung over his free arm. The blonde boy had secured Yanai back into it's safe spot in the rack that was hanging from his belt, dissimulated by his own leather jacket. Until now, everything had been going the way he had planned it so many times in his head. The feeling he had gotten from it had almost been sobering.

Once they had been in the elevator on their way down, Taemin had made sure to wrap Minho's leather jacket around his shoulders, adjusting it so it had looked decent. This way, every other normal person would have assumed Minho was a fashionable guy, letting his jacket hang down his body like a model. The fact that his hands had been tied behind his back had been hidden well.

"Square your shoulders, and look arrogant." Taemin had whispered to the black haired boy in the back of the elevator, having been careful not to be heard by anyone else. The other boy had cast him a glance, indicating his confusion with the order. Upon seeing the demanding and silencing look in the kidnapper's eyes, he had gulped and slowly turned his gaze towards the now opening elevator door, doing like he had been told.

The two males had gotten out of the elevator behind a small group of Indian tourists, that had then been dispersing in the hotel lounge. Minho had looked at his surroundings the most condescending way he had been able to muster, having been told to act arrogant, his shoulders proudly squared. But on his tongue, the taste of fear had been lingering the entire time as they had made it out of the hotel, unnoticed.

About one hundred meters away from the hotel, Taemin suddenly had pulled his prey into a small, run-down alley. Minho had been pushed forward roughly, stumbling over his feet as Taemin, who had not been saying a word, had menacingly followed. With an abrupt yank from the blonde assassin, Minho had been turned around. The almost mad happiness and relief he had seen in Taemin's eyes then had been the last thing, before sudden darkness had been brought upon his sight. "I guess kidnappers do blindfold their victims after all."

Now Minho was standing aimlessly, the only sound he could hear that didn't belong to the normal life of the big city was a distinct, slightly labored breathing. It had the same pace as his own, he himself having been yanked and dragged around for what seemed like hours to him. He had no idea in what direction Taemin had brought them, or where the blonde was actually headed. The only thing he knew was that now, the only thing he could do was to follow the assassin without protest.

Taemin had brought Minho close to the wide and forlorn park where he knew was a good entrance to the catacombs, big enough to give his victim access. He had taken several routes and turns throughout the city, making sure it would be nearly impossible to successfully track them. Even without being obviously tailed, Taemin still found everything that had happened too easy. He wouldn't risk bringing Minho into his hide-out the easiest way. His alarms as a killer and outlaw were still intact, even through the slight high he felt from this lucky coincidence.

The blonde assassin gave Minho a moment to rest before he planned to walk on. He looked at the young man next to him, whose eyes were blindfolded with a black cloth. He still couldn't believe his luck. His 100th job. And the road to revenge opened up so easily, like it was welcoming him with open arms. Taemin scanned once again the features of his prey, but this time his eyes looked at him differently than they had mere hours before. The outlaw realized now the obviously handsome features of the captive man. Even with a blindfold hiding his eyes, his distinguished jawline and the full lips made his face unique. Taemin shuddered. He wasn't the biggest fan of pretty rich boys, but hopefully this time it would help him get to his goal. When you are pretty, people will look for you. And in this case, Minho would bring him exactly what he had wanted.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Taemin saw a movement that caught his attention away from the black haired man next to him. Down the street, a man was sitting on a bench on the almost lonely street, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the park. He was looking ahead of him, from time to time turning around. But that wasn't what had caught the assassin's eye. It was the small, almost translucent wire that trailed down from the man's ear and into his collar, along with the movement of his hand towards his mouth. And now the obvious bulge at the back of the man's coat.

Shit. Taemin thought. He ventured to look up and down the street. With a quick gaze, the blonde boy singled out three more followers. Two were standing against a wall further up the street, acting like normal young men talking about this and that, while one of them discretely looked into the direction where Taemin and Minho were hiding. The last one was supposedly a jogger, stretching against a bench behind the fences of the park, constantly sending the dark alley a glance.

Taeming groaned. How had he not been able to realize he was being followed? He was too caught up in the thought of revenge. When he had seen Minho, something in him had been triggered, and he didn't think of maximum safety, let alone to be careful of his surroundings.

"I knew something was off." He muttered in a low voice. Next to him, Minho turned his head to the sound of his voice, his mouth slightly opened, about to ask what was happening. With a quick movement, the assassin covered his captive's lips with his thin hand.

He needed to think, now in all awareness, of the move he was going to do next.

Taemin was, for once, at a loss. He didn't know how he would be able to get out of this mess either alive or without losing Choi Minho. And preferably both of those together. He had to think harder.

First, there still was the question on how they had succeeded in following them. Taemin was sure that he had been very careful not to be followed in the first place, having taken the most complicated route to the vast park in the centre of the city. And yet here they were in a dark, small alley, observed by several policemen. Something had to be off.

And second, the blonde boy could feel the uneasiness settle within him. Just something, something was deeply wrong about all of this. He had been too lucky. More lucky than his skill allowed him to be, anyway.

Taemin's head was running at about 100 miles an hour, analyzing, thinking, reasoning. He wasn't a stupid kid, so after a long 30 seconds, he had actually figured it out.

"Stay quiet." he hissed into his victim's ear, taking his thin hand off of Minho's mouth. The latter gasped for a bit more of air, but did as the blonde had told him. He jolted slightly when he felt the other boy's hands travel over his body, grabbing here and there, without seemingly having a purpose that Minho's mind could catch. He was about to protest against the assassin's hand prodding at his clothes and body, when they stopped moving altogether.

"I knew it." Taemin muttered darkly as his hand, which had been shoved into the backpocket of Minho's pants, were grasping something and pulling it out. "A tracker."

The killer clenched his teeth violently, crashing the tiny device in between his thumb and forefinger. He should have known something was off the track, quite literally. It had been too easy, as if they had been anticipating this. As if they had wanted him to kidnap the boy. And just this moment he knew they certainly did. It all made sense now.

His teeth still clenched, he brought his mouth next to the ear of the dark haired boy he was holding captive. "Listen." Taemin almost spat, "You'll do exactly what I tell you, and you'll have no reason to be afraid. Understand?"

Minho, who was frozen at the venom in his voice, could only nod in submission.

****

"Are they still not moving?" a voice echoed in the man's earpiece. It sounded slightly irritated.

The undercover agent that had received the question rolled his eyes. He had been waiting for about a good forty minutes now, watching the rundown alley where Lee Taemin and Choi Minho had been discovered, all the while maintaining his disguise as a fatigued jogger. But the impatient voice of his boss didn't help him with remaining calm and unnoticed.

"No, sir. They still appear to be waiting for something." he answered politely.

"Bastards. What in the name of hell could they be waiting for?"

The officer was about to answer when suddenly, he saw a movement.

Choi Minho was walking out of the alley, towards the entrance of the park. Just as if nothing had happened.

The reaction of the other agents were quick. "One of them has come out, sir. Choi Minho has left the hiding spot and is now in the direction of the park." One of their voices sounded throughout the earpiece.

"Get him!" The boss bellowed.

"But, sir, Lee Taemin is not yet- "

"I DON'T CARE. TAKE HIM INTO CUSTODY. NOW!"

The policemen exchanged glances just as the ebony haired boy walked into the park and in the direction of the little forest nearby.

"Yes, sir." they answered, and followed behind Choi Minho, carefully tailing him for a few more moments.

****

Taemin saw the undercover agents hurriedly following after Minho. It gave him a spark of satisfaction seeing that the police force had once again acted just as he thought they would. They never tried something new, nor were they ever too careful when someone related to a case came out into the open.

Carefully, the blonde boy now made his way out of the alley. He looked around once more, more on his guard than the officers, just to be sure. But the coast was entirely clear.

This time around, it was Taemin's turn to step past the gate and into the vastness of the green park. His steps were following the ones he had told to Minho, knowing the area like the back of his own hand. It was easy to steer someone around to wherever he liked in here.

He sped up a bit. The killer knew it was all going to go after his plan, but he didn't like leaving his victim, his prey, alone. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling of uneasiness that he couldn't put into words nor explain. The path he had chosen to lead everyone into brought him up into a dark realm of old, big trees. A little bit of the dark and unchanging nature that had stood here over centuries, for those that were missing it in the ever-changing, rushing big city of Seoul. After a few more footsteps into the trees, he could hear them.

"Choi Minho! Do not move one step further!"

The young boy smirked. He had arrived just at the perfect time.

"What did I do?" He heard Minho's deep rumble of voice answer. This time, his voice wasn't laced with fear. It made it attractive, and for some reason even to Taemin.

"Put your hands up behind your head!" One of the agents said.

Taemin was now close enough, hidden behind one of the big trees, to see the four policemen cornering Minho, their laser guns pointing in the dark haired boy's direction. It made the kidnapper wonder. Weren't they here to get him back? The blonde unbuckled Yanai and Aminta slowly, careful not to make a sound that could yet attract the officers' attention towards him.

Minho, on the other hand, was bewildered. He had followed exactly what Taemin had told him, down to the number of steps he should take. But why wasn't he exactly getting out of trouble, but even deeper into it, as it seemed? And what had he done to the police that he was now being cornered like that? Wasn't he the victim here?

"What have I done?" he asked again, looking at the agents surrounding him unsurely. He couldn't quite get his head around this.

One of the officers came up behind him and roughly pulled Minho's arms down. With sheer force he folded them on his back, and Minho heard the sound of handcuffs being opened. And then the steel closed in around his wrists. What the heck?

"You are hereby arrested for the attempted murder of Jung Eunseok."

The face of the old man in the unfashionable suit flashed before Taemin's eyes, as he secretly watched the dark haired boy being handcuffed. His original victim? Why were they framing and arresting Minho, who they should rather be rescuing, for something he, Lee Taemin, if anyone, would have been responsible for?

Then Taemin shrugged. It wasn't really important to think about this yet. Not right now. What was more important at this moment, and really the first priority, was to get his prey back. He grasped his twin pistols securely and walked out of the safe shadow of the tree. His arms were raised towards the agents surrounding Minho, his guns pointing at them.

"You will not be taking him anywhere, gentlemen."

The assassin's velvety voice echoed through the trees and the policemen whirled around to look at the origin of it. Their eyes widened as they set their gaze on him. The blonde's pair of brown orbs flickered to each one of them, until lastly settling on Minho. The other boy's face was lit up with a shining expression of relief.

"LEE TAEMIN!" One of the policemen shouted. The boy's eyes wandered over to the man that had spoken, the one holding onto Minho, one eyebrow cocked up in amused question.

"YOU ARE ARRESTED FOR CONTINOUS FELONY AGAINST THE REPUBLIC OF KOREA!"

Taemin's lips twitched and formed into a smirk as the other agents pointed their futuristic guns at him. His voice was clear and menacing when he spoke. "Let's see if you can hold up to that sentence, gentlemen."

The officers charged at him, their fingers pressing down violently on the trigger of their weapons. A ray of white laser beams rushed at Taemin, who did not seem to move for a moment.

From behind the agents, still handcuffed and unable to move, Minho watched Taemin, as if time had stopped for him, graciously moving his body in the midst of the avalanche of white light. His muscles moved his slim body again and again out of the range of the deadly projectiles that were aimed at him. The speed of the movements was shocking, as Taemin pulled, bent, flexed and steered his body with distinct preciseness. It almost looked like a dance, and the easiness with which the young assassin moved stunned the dark haired boy breathless. He had never seen anything like this before. Although he knew that it was the wrong thing to think of his own kidnapper, Minho would not find any other word to describe it. Beautiful. Just as Taemin's little smug smile, that never left his face.

Just then, a fierce, loud and eardrum-ripping sound rezoned through the trees. Minho blinked a few times as he was pulled out of his reverie, and his eyes moved to see one of the men fall over onto the forest's ground.

Blood had exploded from the back of his head, on which the tall boy now had a sickening good view. The skull was partly ripped off, as was the brain, blood and bits of it splattered here and there on the leafy ground. The man was, without a doubt, dead. Minho, who couldn't tear his eyes from the horrible sight, had to forcefully close his eyes. He felt sick to the bone.

Taemin, on the other hand, had felt his grin grow wider as he had seen the man fall over, the addicting adrenaline of the kill rushing through his veins. He felt light headed and high, and he would have liked to play a little bit longer with the other ones in front of him. But he knew this time around, playing was out of the question. He had to finish it already. Soon someone could come into this small part of the park. Much too soon.

The other two agents that had fired at him were now looking over at their fallen colleague in shock. Taemin didn't waver, nor give them any time to prepare. Using their momentary distraction to his advantage, he let Yanai and Aminta sing and fire two silver bullets. Each one of them hitting their mark, right in the head of his opponents. The two men crumbled down to earth, their dead eyes still filled with shock upon seeing their fellow agent lifeless. Just as lifeless as they now were, too.

"DON'T MOVE, LEE TAEMIN!" A voice shouted towards the assassin. The killer's ears registered the call, and his gaze turned towards the owner of the voice. It was once again the one still holding onto Minho. He had moved, though, a little bit. He was now clutching his armed weapon, pushing it against the dark haired boy's temple, jerking him roughly. Taemin's eyes took in the sight, an indescribable anger starting to boil in his veins. He's mine.

Minho's eyes were terrified mirroring his mind's emotions. Being kidnapped was one thing, having a gun crushed against his temple was something completely different.

"Put your pistols down, Lee Taemin." The last agent said to him. But Taemin didn't move his arms one bit.

"Put them down, or I swear I'll kill this kid." The killer considered his chances. The man stood behind Minho, making it almost impossible to have a safe shot at him. The blonde's eyes flickered to meet the scared ones belonging to Minho.

"PUT THE GUNS DOWN, LEE. I AM SERIOUS."

The assassin smirked again, a smirk that made Minho's blood freeze up in his veins.

"Then shoot him." Taemin said, his white teeth being flashed by a dark grin, resembling much more a grimace. An icy, deadly grimace. "Go on. I want to see you do it."

The officer's eyes widened in shock at the boy's words. This kid would let him kill the person he had wanted to save? The blonde's voice rose again, as if he had been reading the agent's thoughts.

"I didn't want to save him. I only wanted some fun." His eyes were hard.

Minho was watching Taemin with his eyes as terrified as ever. He'd let him be killed. He wanted, needed to kidnap him, but now he'd just let him get killed. I thought he needed me. Funny, that what Minho felt right now was not anger or fear, but a bitter taste of what was almost close to betrayal. The man behind him made a movement, and he heard the slow, creaky pulling of the trigger. He looked into Taemin's dark eyes once more.

"Choi Minho, close your eyes." said the blonde. And Minho did what he was told, just as he had always listened to what his kidnapper had said during the last few hours of his abduction. There was no point in stopping now. I guess I wasn't as important to him as it seemed after all. And he waited.

Then he heard a loud gunshot. But instead of feeling pain, nothingness or whatever you felt at death, he felt warm. Warm and...

Minho opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Taemin securing his twin shotguns on his belt again, his eyes set on his own. The dark haired boy looked at the other confused. And then he turned.

The policeman was dead, fallen on the ground. His face was swimming in a dark red substance, once again being shot precisely in the head. Minho then looked down on himself. What had been all that warmth? The last thing he saw before his eyes clouded over and nausea hit him was that dark, sticky red on his clothes, and he turned to empty his stomach onto the ground.

The warmth was the feeling of being completely drenched in fresh, dripping blood.

"It's me. Open up." Taemin's voice resounded off the walls of the canalization.

After Minho had emptied his stomach involuntarily following the assassin's killing of the police force that had them cornered, the latter had blindfolded Minho once again. He didn't want to risk anything. As unlikely as it was, if his captive would somehow get out of his grasp, Taemin didn't want him to know the way in the underground and out of it. The risk of him then bringing the police would be too big.

Minho, on the other hand, didn't even think of getting away. In his mind, it made completely no sense. He couldn't even think of a way to get out of his capturer's hands, and so the dark haired boy didn't even want to waste any thought over it. He went with him on his own accord, in the first place, even if it had been on a, now stupid in his eyes, whim.

The captured young adult had realized that there had been a change of scenery as the killer led him on and on. It had suddenly become humid, and cold. Minho had been able to faintly hear water running somewhere nearby, and their steps had resounded slightly around them.

He wasn't stupid. The dark haired boy had recognized they had to be somewhere in an underground tunnel of the canalization.

But his kidnapper had led him on and on, and Minho, who wasn't at all familiar with the ways around under the city, couldn't follow their steps, even if he did know his way around. And the other boy, he had realized, was making damn sure that he really wouldn't be able to.

Now they were standing, and Minho was bewildered as to whom the other was talking to. He could hear some rustling, and before he knew it he was being pushed forward. He tried to catch himself before falling, not wanting to give the assassin the idea that he was weak. The moment he had stopped stumbling, Minho heard a slightly recorded and robotic sounding voice echo around him.

"Taemin, what the hell! You shut your phone off on purpose! Do you know what could have happened?! You're such a brat!"

The voice kept on ranting and nagging at his kidnapper, calling him names and not giving him any time to answer, apparently, as Minho wasn't able to hear any sound come from the wordly abused male. Taemin, huh?, Minho thought. It was the first time he registered the name of the person who had abducted him. Then again... He remembered one of the police officers calling the name with accusation. Lee Taemin. The name in itself was nothing special. A name anyone could have had. But strangely, something told Minho that he had heard that name somewhere once before. To his dismay, his mind couldn't accord it any more information.

Minho felt a slight tug at the blindfold shielding his eyes. He felt it being loosened, and when he opened his eyes, he had to squint them in order to shield them from the artificial light.

He was in a room that couldn't be stranger to him. Once his eyes had adjusted to his surroundings, he let them wander about. A small kitchen and a bed adorned the left side of the place, while a highly modern and hightech computer system took up all the space on the right. Both contradictionary parts of the room where separated by a big shelf fused with a wardrobe. The place looked much more like a hide-out instead of a room where someone would live.

"Key, shut up." Taemin suddenly spoke up, startling a distracted Minho. The nagging of the digital voice abruptly stopped, an uncofortable silence flooding the room.

Taemin yanked on Minho's right wrist, and took him to the base of the bed. The long haired assassin fished a small key out of the pocket of his pants, unbuckling one of the handcuffs he had slid on Minho's wrists earlier. Leaving the one on his left, he fastened the other he had in his hands to the bedpost at the feet of the mattress, forcing Minho to sit down uncomfortably on the bed. Then the brown haired killer turned towards his computer.

"Don't act like you're my mother, Key. You have no fucking right to tell me what to do, and how. I am your creator, and as fast as I installed you I could just aswell delete you." There was a distinct edge to his voice, as if he was trying to make his point clear.

The computer, who Minho now knew was named Key, only retorted with a mocking snort.

"Baby boy, you know just as well as I do that you just cannot delete me. You would never find or be able to install any computer system like me ever again."

Minho heard Taemin curse under his breath, and he looked up at his kidnapper. His teeth were clenched, and he looked torn between anger and annoyance. "Just shut up." Came the defeated and growled reply. Taemin let out a deep, frustrated breath. Key was too smart for his own good.

"So, I see you brought that kid here." Key's demanding voice once again filled the room, not giving his creator's wish of silence any credit.

Minho couldn't help but try to look around the shelf that blocked his sight on the computer. Taemin had made his way over behind the wooden frame. Feeling his sitting position on the bed was uncomfortable while being handcuffed to it, the dark haired boy changed to sit on the ground. Better, he thought.

Minho wanted to listen to what Taemin had to say about him. Maybe he would be able to pick up one or two reasons why the young assassin had wanted to kidnap him, out of all people. The only thing he knew was that it couldn't be because he had done something. Minho was a business major, with too much free time to spend on sports and games. He couldn't have done anything that would make a criminal come after him.

Bt he suspected that his father must have made some really bad businesses. Minho didn't know enough about the details of his father's job as congressman to be able to put his suspicions into a leading direction, but knowing his father, there was surely a good founded reason for his suspicion that there was something behind the bush.

The captive became disappointed when he heard typing, and he figured Taemin wouldn't talk to Key about him loudly. He had already figured that the killer was a very causcious person. He wouldn't take risks that he could avoid. Sighing, Minho was left with nothing but to sit on the floor with nothing to do.

Some time had passed, and Taemin had grown tired of typing with Key and discussing new plans with him. He disliked that he couldn't just talk to the computer, but he knew that it wasn't wise to let his captive know about details. Sighing, he threw his arms over his head and bent backwards a bit, stretching his tired muscles. Today had been an eventful day, and he could feel the exhaustion seeping through him.

Taemin turned his head to look at the boy on the other side of the shelf. He was just sitting there, unmoving. His eyes were fixed on the tiles in the small kitchen infront of him, his chest heaving slowly with every breath he took. Taemin was taken aback by the passive and almost bored look in his eyes. Wouldn't the other male feel scared, anxious, heck even just uncomfortable being kidnapped and held in a stranger's, not less a criminal's, room?

But the other boy just sat there, apparently waiting. Taemin's interest was perked, but he didn't want to indulge into involving with his ticket to revenge, Choi Minho. He didn't want to get to know the boy, or the reasons behind his passive care about his condition. Assassins didn't get personal with their preys, not getting to know them nor letting them know about themselves.

Suddenly the long haired killer heard a slight rumble coming from the handcuffed boy. The latter's eyes widened, falling down to rest on his stomach, his right, free hand coming up to rub it. Minho's brown eyes flickered over to where the young assassin was looking at him, a blush creeping onto his cheeks when he saw the hazelnut haired man had apparently watched him, and heard the hunger gnaw at his stomach. Quickly, his eyes cast downwards onto the floor.

Taemin considered for a short moment how to deal with this.

He didn't actually want to feed the young man, but he knew he had to if he wanted to keep him alive. Scowling, he went to the kitchen, and pulled a plain bowl of cold rice out of the refrigerator. Not caring that the chopsticks might not be entirely easy to handle with one hand cuffed and not being able to hold the bowl, he put the small dinner in front of the dark haired boy with a thud. Once he went back to his seat in front of the computer, he saw the other male lifting the chopsticks, trying to eat the most effective way possible with one hand tied.

It was then, seeing the other boy eat, that one thing dawned on Taemin. He had to share his hide-out as long as he held him captive. And Taemin had never lived with another person before really.

He didn't know how to manage, even less because this person was his victim. Taemin wanted to scare him, to show him what a ruthless killer he was. But like this, he would also show his most personal sides by letting the other male stay in his personal room. A frown made its way on the assassin's forehead.

He needed to find a solution for this. Fast.

Taemin figured it was already morning when he woke up. His hide-out didn’t have any windows, so it was currently near to pitch black, only a little light from Key’s computer set-up shone around the big wardrobe that was separating his bed from the digital working space. Despite the lack of illumination, the assassin had a good feeling for time – something he needed constantly on jobs. Knowing how much time passed when he didn’t have a watch was something he had grown accustomed to evaluate.

The killer let his eyes dart over the still invisible ceiling, slowly letting them get accustomed to the darkness surrounding him.

He was about to sit up when he heard something unfamiliar. The sound was marginal, but it drew in Taemin’s ears to listen closely. An even breathing echoed through the dark room, and it took the scarcely awakened boy a few moments to get his mind straight. The cloudiness of sleep was still invading his mental strength. And then it came all crushing back down.

Choi Minho.

Taemin bolted into a sitting position, not caring that his movement could awake the older boy leaning against the frame of the bed. His eyes strained to look at the slumped down figure at his feet, making him curse the dark for probably the first time since he had moved in.

Something in him told him to move closer to his captive, but Taemin wasn’t going to give into that feeling. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but something about Choi Minho leaning against his bed, sleeping, gave him a weird sensation in his chest. The killer brushed it off fast, though. He only knew one thing that it could be. Awareness. His mind was aware of the things that could happen if, in fact, he did move closer to the sleeping male. As a killer, he needed to stay as far away of his victims as he could.  Mentally, emotionally and in case of trying an abduction, also physically. What did they say again? A caged animal was the most dangerous.

Looking at the sleeping form, Taemin wished to some extend that he did not kidnap the other. He could have his room to himself, his private space unsoiled by another human creature belonging to a part of society that usually consisted of his preferred playmates. Of course, only as his hunted preys.

Caught up in his fleeting dreams, Choi Minho was blissfully unaware of the turmoil he had caused the most feared assassin in South Korea. His unworried state wasn’t to be maintained for long, though, as Lee Taemin was getting utterly frustrated thinking about how much his unwelcomed guest was actually invading his, until now, saint lonesomeness.

The assassin drew in his left leg and let it launch forward against the sleeping boy’s back with ungentle force. Minho slid forward swiftly, knocking the back of his head against the bedframe. He awoke with a start, his free hand reaching up behind his head and into his strands of black hair, and he hissed at the pain. He turned around, his eyes in a glare. Due to being unaccustomed to the darkness, they couldn’t actually make out anything in the vast black space behind him. Slowly he started faintly seeing someone moving, though Minho didn’t need to think twice before knowing who it was.

“Key, turn on the lights.”

Taemin’s voice echoed through the darkness, only to be rewarded with light one second after he had spoken.

Through the blinding light, Minho couldn’t help but still glare at the other boy. When his eyes had adjusted, he realized he was met with just the same glare coming from his kidnapper.

“You didn’t have to kick me.” The dark haired boy spoke groggily, his eyes still on the other.

The assassin’s eyes widened, obviously surprised by the other’s morning grumpiness, before narrowing into slits. He didn’t like being talked to in such a manner. Even more if he was supposed to be the one in charge. He couldn’t lose control. It was just not acceptable in his business. The hazel haired boy stood up from the bed, his frame moving towards the still cuffed male.

Minho, who was blinking the sleep out of his eyes for a moment, tried to follow the killer’s swift movements. Even with his eyes on the other, he didn’t see the fist flying towards his face. There was pain and shock as he tried to catch himself with his right hand on the floor. It then went to his face, cupping his left cheek, which he could almost feel starting to bruise. His eyes were wide, meeting with Taemin’s furious ones.

“Don’t you dare talking back to me. You have no idea what I could do to you.” His voice was venomous and sharp like a knife. Threat and menace was dripping from his words, and the captive man knew at that moment that the meaning was not empty.

The assassin didn’t like it when someone wasn’t following his rules – had they been voiced out, or not. Minho was his captive, his game. Taemin was the one making the rules, and bending them whichever way he wanted if he needed to. He was the player, the arbitrator, the winner. Everyone else was a pawn, an unimportant nothing he could push around at will. Control was of utmost importance to Taemin. Having control meant being able to survive. And survive he would.

Minho was shocked, to say the least. He didn’t expect the killer to take such a small sentence so personally. It taught him to really not rely on looks. Despite Taemin’s fragile and soft looking exterior, his inside wasn’t smooth and bending. He was cold as a rock, and just as hard headed. And Minho realized, as the brown haired assassin walked past him to the bathroom with the same menacing aura as before, making the black haired boy flinch from the slight grazing of their clothes, that he was also scary. A lot scarier than he had thought when he agreed to get kidnapped.

The shower started to run, giving Minho time to think without the assassin being exactly in the same room.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had thought of Taemin as something close to a friend, or a companion after waking up. Somehow, his real situation had completely escaped his mind. Taemin, despite having the looks of someone his age, wasn’t emotionally or mentally like Minho. He was a killer, the scum of a human being without any other emotions next to blood lust and hatred. The black haired boy was a doll in between his fingers, a doll the other needed to get his will. How Minho could have mistaken that as something good, he didn’t know. He blamed the fact that it was, of course, the first time for him to be confronted to such a situation, to have been through a day and night like the last, in his life. It was silly and childish, maybe even romantic to some extend of him to have thought that the kidnapper would grow attached to his prey after going through something like this. Or maybe he was just scared, and hoped for something that would change his eventual death. Because let’s face it, what captive would want to consider his kidnapper as something close to a friend? Only a person without many of the latter, Minho thought bitterly.

It was a fact that Minho had never been able to figure out, let alone really live with. He was twenty years old, rich and for the most people, good looking. He should have nice friends, a stunning and beautiful girlfriend and parents that were utterly proud that their son was handling university easier than most of the others. But for some unknown reason to him, Minho’s life and reality was so much different from that.

He didn’t know what exactly had been the reason to keep other for getting close to him. He had thought about it many times, but up to this day, he just couldn’t pinpoint anything. It had already started in elementary school, when he was left to play alone by the other kids because they didn’t like his big, round eyes. Frog eyes, they had called him, a nickname that his early bruised ego couldn’t quite get over, no matter how many years had passed. But had that been the only reason for his lack of social contact?  It didn’t make sense to him, really. Were people so… easy to push away because of the smallest reasons?

For Minho, the only time getting close to someone had been during middle school. A new boy had been transferred into their class. The seat next to Minho had been the only empty one, like it always had been. He wasn’t getting bullied per say – he figured his schoolmates were too scared of his tall height to lay a finger on him that way. But getting ignored by every other student around him was pretty much his routine.

That day though, the teacher had sent the new kid to sit next to invisible Minho. At first, the fourteen year old boy didn’t know how to react to the presence of someone else next to him, after all the time he had sat alone. Contrary to his first impression, he soon found out that Kim Jonghyun was a kid who was easy to talk to. He didn’t ignore him like the rest of the students, didn’t find him intimidating or weird at all. He kept bugging Minho to eat lunch with him, talking about everything that came to his mind, and even proceeded in sharing and spending his afternoons with the tall male at a park sitting by the lake or out on the field playing soccer.

It was a happy time for Minho when he could hang out with Jonghyun. He felt as if for once, things were going right for him, just as they were for every other kid his age. He and Jonghyun graduated from Middle Shool, and to top it off for the black haired boy, they attended the same High School.

But Minho had learned at an early age that the good things never seemed to last as long as you want them to. In his second year of High School, Minho came into school to an empty seat beside him. He didn’t think much at first – though it was rare, Jonghyun did catch some illness once of twice a year. But as the days dragged on, and his friend didn’t even answer his phone, Minho’s feeling of depression grew. After a few days he finally realized what the empty seat next to him really meant; the fact that he was alone once again.

Thinking about the past now had something ridiculously cliché Minho realized. But even though he knew he was over it, a small tear couldn’t help but well up in his deep brown eyes. The dark haired boy sniffed it away, trailing his eyes up from the cold tile floor to the open doorway of the bathroom when he realized that the sound of running water had stopped.

The long haired boy was standing in the doorway, his tight fitting pants clinging to his thin frame, his shirt showing off his slightly protruding collarbones. Without knowing why or how he dared, Minho found himself marveling slightly at the flawless skin of his abductor.  But he remembered the last time he had dared react to the other male, so before his stare could have been registered as something more than a simple looking up, the tall young man averted his eyes back down to the floor.

Taemin didn’t make any sign to move forward. He just stood there, looking at his captive. The shower, which he had hoped would clear some of his mind, had been very welcomed but less helpful than expected.

Sighing heavily, something to which he registered Choi Minho reacted by looking up curiously before casting his eyes back down just as fast and biting down on his lower lip, he then made his way through the room towards Key’s computer.

Taemin figured it would be easier for him to handle Minho if he acted like he wasn’t there at all. So ignoring the long legs that were poking out behind the shelf and wardrobe, he started searching the internet for any sign of life of the police’s investigation on Choi Minho’s abduction. It had been a day and a night. Taemin was sure that with such a high up’s son’s disappearance, everything was being put into motion faster than someone could give orders.

He frowned when his research didn’t lead him to anything. No articles, no news, no announcements.

“Key, please hack into the government’s data base. I need to know why nothing has been sent out about him yet.” Taemin addressed to the computer system.

“Gotcha.” As Key started the hacking maneuver, windows over windows appeared on the big screens covering the wall, all opening and closing again at a speed that made Taemin proud of his IT skills.

“Hmmm. This is weird,” the robotic suffrage announced, as it was still rummaging through files and files that the government’s computer security failed to be able to keep from it. “It’s as if the government hasn’t even gotten news that the kid disappeared.”

Taemin frowned upon those words. How could they not? He practically abducted the black haired male in the middle of their security personal, and they even followed him with a tracker. How could nothing of that show up in the government’s system? Taemin was getting a bad feeling about all of this.

“Key, search the criminal files of the police for Choi Minho.”

As he said his words, he could said male make a sound of surprise. But seeing as nothing came up when they searched the government’s system, the Taemin wanted to make sure that his second thought, which was not half as pleasant as the first, also led to nothing. His hopes were crushed as he saw a certain picture come up onto his computer screen, followed by Key’s announcement.

“Criminal Choi Minho. Wanted for attempted murder of Jung Eunseok, as well as…” Key’s digital voice came to a stop, making Taemin wheel his head around at the computer.

“As well as?” He asked, his voice being loaded with a hint of anxiousness.

Key seemed to hesitate for a moment before reading on. “As well as being the only known associate of wanted criminal Lee Taemin and the murderer of four police officers.”

The brown haired assassin choked onto the breath he had taken in. It took him a few moments to calm his coughing fit, his eyes traveling up to the computer screen, wide with incredulity. Behind him, Choi Minho had made a similar sound, followed with a shocked “What?!” that Taemin ignored as he scanned  the files on the screen before him.

Reading through them, his mind processed that what Key had been reading out was, in fact, the truth. The police’s files stated Choi Minho as a murderer, accusing him of something the killer had done. It was the second time now. But what had startled Taemin more was something else. Choi Minho as his associate?

Taemin looked over to Minho. There he was sitting, the child of one of the most important politicians in South Korea. A boy who had probably been adored by everyone, with high status, money, just everything one could dream about. And after only a day out of the numerous ones he had lived in his now barely adult state, unframed by anyone for anything and without having hurt one single strand of hair on the head of a child, he had been branded as the most despised being in society. A murderer.

It made absolutely no sense to Taemin how a young man like Minho could have been filed under the criminal records. He was the child of a congressman. Surely the public authorities must have made a mistake?

Yes. Yes must have been the reason. There could be no way that Choi Minho was being falsely accused. There must have been some mistake in the files, or some bug with the system. As much as Taemin told himself that there had to be a something reasonably normal that was causing this, there was still the uneasiness that had settled deep within him and nestling itself into his body that there had to be more to it.

Trailing his eyes from the screen, he slowly turned around to once again fix his gaze onto Minho. The latter was sitting slightly on edge at the feet of Taemin’s bed, his eyes posed on the long haired boy. Their eyes met, and the look in Taemin’s eyes must have told Minho that, indeed, he had heard right what Key had announced a few minutes prior.

Taemin walked over to stand above Minho, looking down on him. His brown orbs didn’t waver, and he kept them locked onto those of his captive. He didn’t want to break the contact. If anything, it was Choi Minho’s duty to look away ashamed, in anger, desperate – Taemin didn’t care about the reason. He only cared about being in control, the one thing that seemed to slip from him every new minute Choi Minho was held in his grasp.

Minho’s eyes, on their side, flickered from Taemin’s to and fro, trying to gauge his reaction once again. He couldn’t believe that he was being saved in the government’s files as a criminal. It was something his mind had never even come in contact with, the thought of ever doing anything against the law. Of course, he had been preached since childhood not to even dare steal a package of gum. His father’s career might have been destroyed by the smallest little unrighteousness. It was something that had come above relationships in between family members. Never do anything that could cause your parents any problems.

Seeing only affirmation of the truth in Taemin’s eyes, Minho’s cast down slowly, his mouth slightly open with a look of pure and utter confusion. His eyes didn’t see – the only thing that was passing through his mind was one simple question. Why?

“…Why?” Minho’s voice posed the exact question that was clouding his senses, not even looking up at the boy that was still standing in front of him. Taemin was pleased to not have been the one breaking their eye contact.

The brown haired boy remained silent, taking in the defeated form of his captive, something that felt highly delectable to him. The fact that Minho was being tortured by this new piece of information, though also causing Taemin trouble, too, tasted sweet and rewarding on his tongue.

Then, finally,Taemin shrugged. “I don’t know. I am as baffled as you are, Choi Minho.”

Minho took his words in, nodding, almost broken. Taemin smirked happily, having fun watching the other male in this position.

And then something happened that Taemin did not see coming.

Choi Minho began to shake violently, ragged breath escaping his full lips. Sobs broke through the air like rattled hiccups and agonizing sounds of defeat and desperation made their way through the silence now surrounding both males. Minho couldn’t contain his feelings any longer at that moment. It seemed to him as if his entire being was crumbled down, as if his lonely past was catching up on him faster than the speed of light. Everything he seemed to have forgotten was there again, dancing vividly in front of his tightly closed eyes. The fact that he was now marked as something society would never accept, something that pushed him deeper into the realm of loneliness than he had ever been, deeper into the one direction where he had always wanted to escape from, further away from everything he had needed, made him break down. And through the tears numbing and shaking his body, Minho felt a very strong necessity. The want to be held, and comforted.

Taemin didn’t know how to react. He was frozen in place, his smirk weirdly glued onto his mouth. His eyes were opened wide, and betrayed his overburdened feelings. It wasn’t the first time Taemin had seen someone cry. He saw the men he hunted down cry numerous amount of times. But he had never quite seen someone cry out their heart so violently over something as a criminal record. Or had he?

While his eyes were taking in the sunken down sight of Minho, his mind replayed something blurred and contorted, something he couldn’t quite place. Mixing in with Minho’s desperate sobs were others. A voice so high and familiar in his ears that it made Taemin jump in shock. It was a voice he had drowned out years ago. A sound he had sworn never to hear again, never to let get to him again. A sound he wanted to bury for forever.

The sound of a young child, bawling his eyes out.

Taemin was still standing in front of Minho, now shaking. His hands were curled up into angry fists at his sides, his teeth clenching as he forcefully shut his eyes to drown out the voice resounding in his head, louder and louder.

“ Sh-Shut up.” Taemin began, his voice shaky and soft. But nothing changed. The sound of the child crying in his ears was still there, as was Minho’s.

“Shut up.” Taemin said with more force, as Minho’s sobs were getting deeper and rattled. Taemin sunk to his knees slowly, his frame still shaking.

“I said shut up!” His voice grew louder, and as it did, he had the feeling that the child in his ears started to back away.

Desperately in need of being free of the heart wrenching sound filling his mind and body, Taemin launched forward and grabbed Minho harshly at the shoulder.

“I SAID SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP!” The screams filled the room as he shook the crying boy in front of him with more force than he had thought. The movement made Minho look up at Taemin, the red, swollen, wet eyes making contact with the desperate ones of the assassin once again. His sobs were stuck in his throat, only his ragged breathing was still filling the silence that lay in between them. To his surprise Taemin found himself feeling guilty as he was looking at the broken eyes in front of him. It was a new feeling, something so entirely confusing that he didn’t know what it was at first. Seeing Minho in this state, wet cheeks, puffed eyes and utterly roughed up all in all triggered something in Taemin. His features softened at the sight, and his grip lost its force.

Minho looked at him and his eyes seemed to blur, not being able to fully control the abused orbs. His lower lip quivered, and at that moment Taemin felt himself loosing every last bit of control he had over the situation.

“P-please…” Minho’s voice, hoarse from the crying, echoed. “Please… Hold me. Just this once.”

Taemin had the urge to pull back right that instant. This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. Not getting close, and not getting attached. But something in Taemin had been broken the moment Choi Minho had shed his first tears. The moment he had heard the other’s sobs and cries in his ears, at that moment Taemin was reminded of one thing he didn’t want to remember. Because that was the one thing that made him weak, that made him human. And as much as Taemin was fighting for control, as much as Taemin wanted to slap the cuffed Minho, as much as he wanted to lock him up in a room and let him starve, before he knew what he was doing, his arm had curled up around the other male’s waist, nestling the black haired locks under chin, his other hand patting the back of his neck.

And despite Taemin trying to fight the feeling that was creeping up inside of him – it felt good.

Silence settled between the two young men for the next few days.

They lived together in silence that mostly wasn’t even interrupted by a question, unless Minho had to use the toilet. Even though the lack of communication was hanging heavily in the air, something even heavier was looming between the two of them. Minho couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but he felt it. Each time he breathed in, the tension seemed to grow in him, too.

And he was sure for Taemin it was no different.

Even while the long haired male had not opened his mouth once since the hug, Minho could tell that some of his viciousness had passed away. Though still being cold and ignorant, there was something in Taemin’s silence that reminded Minho a lot more of embarrassment.

Taemin spent most of the days out of the hide out. Minho didn’t know what exactly the assassin was looking for outside of the dungeon. To tell the truth, he couldn’t think that any clue for the case was out there, when even Key couldn’t apparently find any in the government’s system. But it wasn’t like they let him in on the information, anyway. He had just learned to read the killer’s expression, which had been gloomy to say the least.

During those days when Taemin was out almost all the time, it was really boring for Minho. Taemin hadn’t taken the cuff off of his wrist, forcing Minho to still only get a few hours of sleep in the most uncomfortable way he could think of. His muscles were sore from the lack of relaxation, and his butt hurt from the constant sitting. And with Taemin being gone, he hadn’t even the distraction of trying to figure the other male out by observing him.

It was then that Minho started to talk to the computer system, not really caring about what. He just needed to talk to someone, even if it wasn’t efficient, really. Because seriously, what computer system could reenact human socialization?

But Minho was surprised at how human Key really seemed to be. It made him wonder if the digital suffrage was in really a computer, or if somewhere behind the walls surrounding him another human being was hiding, communicating with him through the computer and not as it.

For Minho, talking to Key was easy.

The system was, even though obviously still lacking emotion, much easier to talk to than Taemin. He wasn’t cold, not really engaged, but nonetheless kept the conversation about everything and nothing flowing, as if he knew what exactly Minho needed. Key was, Minho found out, also remotely stuck up and diva-like. From the endless monologues Key sometimes had about fashion, Minho learned that Taemin had apparently given Key access to fashion sites and trends. Why he had done that, Minho couldn’t figure out, but he thought it must have been because he needed to blend in with the normal crowd when he was on jobs. There was just no way that Taemin liked fashion. Key’s nagging in the mornings at Taemin’s clothes was the only thing that broke the silence in the room when the assassin was home.

Minho still didn’t know why Taemin had hugged him at that time in the first place. He didn’t know why he had cried, either.

But at that moment, nothing had made sense to him, and everything breaking down in front of him wasn’t something he liked.

While Minho did seem introverted and weak sometimes, acting strong and confident was something he saw himself obliged to do. For Minho it had been equally confusing and weird to be rendered helpless by another boy his age as it had been for Taemin to lose control. But of course they remained oblivious to the effect they had on each other.

But the most confusing for Minho wasn’t that he had lost his confidence. Something else entirely had popped up, and the request he had directed at the assassin in his break down had just been the start.

While Taemin found himself wanting to break away from Minho’s grasp on him, Minho wanted nothing more than to know him.

And it was something he didn’t know how to handle.

Minho was supposed to hate Taemin for kidnapping him, hate him for taking him away from his life, hate him for making him go through this. He had all right to loathe the assassin more than anything in the world.

So why did he find himself yearning for an emotional closeness he knew shouldn’t even be thought of?

Every time the thought surged up in Minho’s mind, his forehead crunched up, frustrated lines carving his face. Just the mere act to think about that want, yearning, need – call it whatever – made Minho’s head flood over with an indescribable ache. Everything was getting so complicated.

One morning – Minho had stopped counting the days – they were woken up by the sound of Key’s digital voice echoing through the room in an excited manner. Minho, being not even remotely awake enough to register words, could only discern his name in between the strings of words flowing from the computer set-up.

Taemin, on the other hand, had no problem understanding what Key was saying. He had been awake for a good 30 minutes already.

And what he was hearing made him jump out of his bed and immediately onto the chair in front of his working desk.

“Yah, yah, wake up!” Key screeched through the darkness, immediately illuminating the entire room. Minho groaned at the light. “There are news! The government has contacted the special agencies on regards of Minho!”

The wind blowing at Minho as Taemin passed him made the dark haired boy shudder.

“What?!” It was the first time for probably near to a week that Taemin had opened his mouth. Minho almost jolted right awake. He had been close to forgetting how it even sounded. “What did they say? What did they write? KEY!”

The impatience in the killer’s voice was desperate, and Minho just realized at that point how frustrating it must have been for the other male to kidnap someone for a purpose - that Minho still didn’t know - and not having been able to gather one small clue on to how to go on next.

Key’s reply sounded somewhat thoughtful as he answered.

“One of the congressmen asked the Undercover Department if there were any news on Minho. They haven’t answ-“ He was interrupted by a loud ding as another window opened up on his flatscreen. There was a small pause until Key started talking again. “The Department head has answered that there still were no new clues, and that the government shouldn’t worry because something will turn up sooner or later. They are apparently having some people on it, and it’s just a matter of time until someone comes back with a useful clue.”

Taemin was staring intently at the screen, going over the files again with his eyes flickering from one sentence to the next. Then the long haired boy leaned back, his hand clutched over his mouth in a thoughtful manner.

“They have someone on it, they say… That must mean that they are looking for him.” Taemin concluded. Minho’s heart started beating faster at Taemin’s words.

“Just a matter of time, huh? Well, I am not letting him out. They will not be able to find any clue if I am not willing to give them one.” The condescend and merciless smirk, that Minho had seen on him the first time they met, adorned the killer’s lips again. The sight of it gave Minho the chills.

“What are you planning, Taemin?” Key inquired, his voice for once not betraying emotions that shouldn’t be possible for a digital equipment.

The smirk on Taemin’s features grew wider, a dangerous twinkle making its way into his eyes. He turned around in his chair and began walking to Minho.

The contact between their eyes made Minho shudder. It was the first time Taemin had crossed gaze with him since that day, and the expression of a lion lurking in the shadows to overthrow his prey on Taemin’s face wasn’t making Minho feel any better.

Without any word, Taemin opened a pocket knife in his right hand and advanced onto his captive. His dark brown orbs reflected Minho’s anxious features at his sight. And then, without Minho beiing able to register what was happening, Taemin latched himself onto his head quickly before retreating back.

A lock of Minho’s charcoal black hair was dangling in between his thumb and index finger.

Taemin’s dangerously playful smile was still plastered where it had stood.

“I’m sure you won’t miss these.” He said before turning around and grabbing his twin guns.

With flattering hair he was out of the room before Minho would even been able to respond.

It had been a long, long day for him. Two false terrorism alarms, four questionings, one escape attempt… Cases over cases piled up on his desk. He didn’t even have enough agents to send out to solve them. If there was one thing the country was lacking of, it was agents doing the very much needed field work.

He walked down the sterilized corridor on the eleventh floor, passing one office door after the next. He was glad that none of his colleagues were walking around or poking their head out of their working rooms – he really wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

His steps stopped in front of office 1105. The door was marked by a small paper strip encased behind plastic.

Executive Assistant Director – National Security Branch

Reading the words he got so used to see every day over the last three years made a sigh escape his lips. Executive Assistant Director my ass, he thought. The only thing that position means is that subordinates are scared of you, and that your higher ups make you responsible for everything that they screw up. His fingers curled around the knob as he let the security system scan his right eye in order to get granted passage.

The system beeped once loudly and he heard the familiar click of the door being unlocked. Opening it, he dragged his heavy feet into the office before turning around to close the door. Once he was sure that indeed no one outside could hear anything, he closed his eyes and leaned his exhausted body against the frame.

He brought his hands up to rub over his face, a helpless attempt to somehow revitalize his motivation for paperwork.

“I see you are as eager as ever, Executive Assistant Director.”

The sound of the voice made him jump out of shock. His eyes sprang open, searching for the source of it frantically. They didn’t have to look long, though.

A young man, not entirely out of his teens, was sitting on his desk, one foot stationed on it, the other dangling down, almost touching the floor. His body was rested back, leaning on his hands comfortably. His brown hair was framing his pretty face, a wide smirk stretching over his delicate, yet sharp features.

He had been obviously waiting.

“How did you enter?” The words directed at the sitting boy were sharp.

“Oh come on, Kim Jonghyun. The Executive Assistant Director, of the National Security Branch no less, should know very well that I have my ways…” The smirk drew itself wider, giving a splendid view on perfectly white front teeth.

Jonghyun grimaced at the mentioning of his name. He had never liked the sound of it being said by the likes of that boy. It was pollution, pollution of a name and a rank that should be standing for discipline and respect. Not being said arrogantly by some vagabonding creature, closer to a monster than a human.

Once again Jonghyun let out a heavy sigh, as he walked around his desk and the boy, aiming to sit down in his well-deserved chair after what seemed like hours of constant standing. He could already tell that the day would become even worse with the visit of none other than Lee Taemin.

“I hope no one saw you enter. You do know that-“

“You have cameras on every floor and around every corner, in the elevator and up the staircase, too. Yes, I do know, thank you.”

Taemin grinned at the older man, mock quite evident in the gesture. Jonghyun couldn’t help but glare at the boy. If there was one thing he liked even less than unwelcomed visitors, it was being interrupted.

“Fine. You found a way around all the cameras. But tell me, how did you get in here? The system only opens up to my identity.”

Jonghyun’s eyebrow was raised as he looked at Taemin. The latter chuckled, the sound not to be compared by what Jonghyun normally would associate with the word. A dark cackle was much more like it.

The killer flipped a strand of hair out of his eyes before answering smugly.

“Let’s just say that I had some help.” Taemin laughed inwardly at the sentence. It was a good thing the NPA couldn’t track Key. Things wouldn’t be half as easy for Taemin if he didn’t have his computer system to rely on.

Silence settled between the two males for a moment, each of them judging the other, Jonghyun with distrusting and annoyed looks, Taemin with a smug smile and a dangerous twinkle in his eyes.

“So.” Taemin said, finally. “How is it going for you? A lot of work?”

It was a normal question to anyone who would have listened. But Jonghyun knew that Taemin wouldn’t be here to ask such a trivial question if there wouldn’t be much more behind it. He decided to play along with the criminal. After all, the long haired boy had entered his office, and Jonghyun should be the one having the reins.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Drug dealers, terrorists, spies, felony… “ He accentuated the last word, his brown eyes settling on the pair in front of him. Jonghyun could barely see Taemin’s eyelids narrow down a little.

“I see.” The younger said. His hand wandered over his desk, flicking around the paper work that was scattered across it. Then his hands settled on something different, a small note pad, which was hidden under a generous amount of printed papers.

With a fast gesture, before Jonghyun could jump forward to grab onto the little booklet, it was already secure in Taemin’s hands, as he opened it to the first page.

“I see…” He repeated, the smug smile back in its place as Taemin’s hazel eyes looked amused at the writing in front of him. “Let me guess. JE, 11:00. Oh, now, Assistant Director, don’t tell me this is who I think it is! Let me guess: Jung Eunseok, the Director of the Office of Congressional Affairs? I heard he was part of the underground mafia too! I really should have killed him when I got the chance – now that is not something I can’t change.”

The assassin’s playful tone made the adrenaline level in Jonghyun’s body rise. Even without Taemin already making it pretty obvious to what end he was heading, he brown haired man knew what was coming next. And he already cursed himself for not being cautious enough.

“I thought you had at least stopped your little illegal information business after the last time I came around. I mean, the two other times before that I could let it slip as you being new to this entire office and working field. But now… ts ts ts. One would think you’d be at least as smart as to stop after having an assassin blackmail you with this more than one time.”

The mocking tone of Taemin’s voice made Jonghyun cringe. But he knew that the kid was right. The first time Taemin had suddenly stood at the doorstep of his house, no less, Jonghyun didn’t take the barely teenage boy seriously. He found out fast enough what a big mistake it was – the kid had dug up his past illegal businesses faster than a dog could find a bone right in front of him.

And today, that incident seemed to be repeating itself once again.

Jonghyung didn’t even know why he didn’t take care of his business better than this. He was the Executive Assistand Director of the National Security Branch. And still a young criminal could threaten him to full purpose over and over again. It was like Jonghyun didn’t learn.

But he knew that it was also something that wasn’t entirely his fault.

“I didn’t think you would turn up in my office anytime soon!” Jonghyun defended, his arms crossed over his chest, a frown edging over his face. “And you know, you shouldn’t be acting like that, Taemin! You were the one proposing me that deal three years ago! I must admit, without your information I couldn’t arrest half of the filth I did. But you’ve become so full of yourself that you think I couldn’t live without you bringing them in. I can solve cases on my own very well, as you might have noticed over the last year of your complete absence.”

Taemin rolled his eyes at Jonghyun’s defendant attitude.

“Hey, Jonghyun, chill.”

The Assistant Director puffed his cheeks and let out a frustrated breath.

“What I can see more than your solved cases is the fact that you’ve took my small little idea of coexistence to a new level of ungerground information networks. You’ve got obviously contact to the mafia, or you wouldn’t be even acknowledging that guy from Congressional Affairs. I bet some corrupt terrorists are also in there, and probably other assassins?” Taemin’s voice became deep and threatening.

Jonghyun could tell that the younger male didn’t like the fact that he had… enhanced his information basis.

He had already started that soon after the two of them had made their deal. Taemin would deliver the information Jonghyun asked for, in return for generous compensation. But at the time, Jonghyun didn’t know the boy too well, and that had been a big mistake on his side. Taemin was impulsive and very moody. He would only deliver information about someone when he felt like it, and didn’t want to take care of the target himself. Jonghyun, being new to his job and to dealing with an underage criminal, an assassin no less, had thought he would easily control the kid. But Jonghyun had seen that he was become the dependent one, alwas waiting for Taemin to bring him new clues. And so, after a particular long and unsatisfying wait for the teenage boy, he had started a new, widely spread business. Which had brought him a slightly unhappy Taemin more than one time.

“Blame yourself, Taemin.” Was all Jonghyun had to say. He wasn’t in the mood to play cat and mouse with the other. The only thing Jonghyun wanted right now was the eerie silence of having his office to himself again. Taemin had beaten around the bush for far too long. “Instead of whining about me not relying on you anymore, get to the point of your visit.”

The assassin scowled at the brown haired man.

“Fine. I need information, Jonghyun.”

The older’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. Jonghyun couldn’t control the urge to laugh, and so a flow of laughter erupted from his mouth.

“You?! You need information from me?” The laughter slowly died down, although his voice was still slightly mocking. “Lee Taemin is coming for information? Now this is something new!”

At that moment, Taemin lost his patience with Jonghyun. He launched forward, his pocket knife secured in his right hand and under Jonghyun’s chin, his left grabbing the short brown hair of the NPA agent. As fast as the older male’s laughter had come it dissipated, leaving behind only a spreading feeling of fear.

“Don’t test me, Jonghyun. You know very well what I can be capable of. How many times did you clean up corpses that you knew were my doing?” Taemin hissed into Jonghyun’s ear. “I am already unhappy about you little side business as it is. You can be happy that I didn’t visit you in your sleep the first time I got to know about it.”

Jonghyun’s emotions now took a completely different turn. What had been amusement moments later was now sheer terror. The ebony haired man knew very well how Taemin worked. In fact, his superiors had put Jonghyun on the case of the assassin. Lee Taemin was a threat not only to the criminal taskforce, but as far as the government was concerned he was nothing less than an all-round terrorist, spy, hacker and murderer.

“A-all right. What do you need to know?” Jonghyun’s voice wasn’t cocky anymore. He was terrified of Taemin, even more because it was the first time the other male had acted on his murderous side around him.

“See, this works a lot better. Maybe I should have worked with you this way from the beginning.” Taemin’s whispering and sharp voice said. “Now. I need all the information you can give me on Choi Minho.”

Jonghyun’s eyes widened. “W-who?”

The knife at Jonghyun’s neck edged a little deeper into his skin, making him wince.

“I think you heard me.” Taemin replied threateningly.

“A-all right. Let me get to my computer.” Jonghuyn said, motioning towards the machine on his desk. But Taemin didn’t let him.

“I don’t mean the files. I have all those files.” The assassin jerked Jonghyun back. “What I want to know from you is why his father, or the government for that matter, declared him to be a criminal. Oh, and let’s not forget – to be my accomplice?” Taemin hissed.

Jonghyun’s eyes darted around the room, fear and confusion written on his face.

“B-but, he always was. H-his criminal record dates back 2 years ago, when he started under the mafia leader’s right hand man, Park Jungsoo.” Taemin pressed the sharp edge of the knife harder against Jonghyun’s throat, making the latter gasp for air.

“Don’t lie, Kim Jonghyun. I know that that was set up only a few weeks ago.”

Jonghyun’s nerves were wearing thin. He didn’t know what to do, or how to get out of this with Taemin believing that he told the truth.

“I s-swear! I don’t know anything else! This is all I k-know!” Jonghyun’s eyes closed, and he waited for the excruciating pain he would feel when the blade slit open his throat.

But instead of feeling anything that would indicate Taemin’s loss of patience with him, he felt the grip on him loosen and the knife disappear. With a harsh push he was shoved onto his chair, his arms upin defeat and terror of the situation that had just happened. He opened his eyes to see an angry Taemin put away his knife.

“You look like you really don’t know anything more. Really, I thought our government would tell their Executive Assistant Directors more about the secret stuff that’s going on. You don’t seem to be that important, are you?”

Jonghyun could only swallow the lump in his throat. He could feel a drop of blood trickle down his neck fron the cut Taemin had left on his body.

“I’m going. I swear, if I find out that you lied to me…” The assassin didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he locked his eyes onto Jonghyun’s, and the fierce threat his dark orbs gave off almost made the agent’s blood freeze in his veins. There was no such thing as Lee Taemin making an empty threat.

And as fast as Taemin had come, he vanished.

It took Jonghyun good 5 minutes to calm down enough to process what just happened. But when he did, his serious poker face came back to surface.

Without a shaking hand, given the fact that he had just been threatened to death, he reached to open the second to last drawer under his desk. A black telephone came into view, and without even bothering to take it out of it’s metal case, Jonghyun started to dial. Finishing the long number, he settled the receiver against his ear.

The call was answered right after the first ring.

“Good evening, Director. I just had an encounter with Lee Taemin.” Jonghyun’s matter-of-fact voice said. “He wanted information on Choi Minho, sir.” There was a pause as Jonghyun listened to the voice echoing from the receiver. “No, sir. He bought it.” A short silence dispersed again, as Jonghyun nodded at the orders he was receiving.

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

With that, Jonghyun canceled the call.

Today was indeed not the best day for Kim Jonghyun. Two false terrorism alarms, three questionings, one escape attempt, and a visit from the one of the most wanted criminals in South Korea. But Jonghyun couldn’t help but see a spark of hope.

Because as much as Taemin might have thought he had Jonghyun under control, Jonghyun hopefully would be able to enjoy seeing Taemin’s face when the assassin realized that, in fact, Jonghyun might have been the one to have him under control all along.

Taemin walked down the streets briskly, only paying attention to not knock people over and create a scene. He was not half as satisfied with his meeting with Jonghyun as he had hoped. He had wanted answers, and not even more questions.

Taemin knew that quite a few things didn’t add up in this case.

First, Taemin had been sure Jonghyun knew more about the case. There was just no way that the Executive Assistant Director of the National Security Branch of the NPA didn’t. But Jonghyun seemed convinced that Minho’s criminal record dated back to around two years. It just didn’t make sense.

Taemin had been investigating everything about Choi Minho ever since he had found out that that man had a son. There had barely been a day Taemin hadn’t looked through file after file to gather information. He had never come across a criminal record of the older boy. Taemin, and Key for that matter, couldn’t have possibly missed something, could they?

It was highly unlikely.

Second, Taemin couldn’t believe the government wouldn’t include the National Security Branch in the case. The assassin himself was being chased by the NPA almost twenty-four-seven. He couldn’t fathom why they wouldn’t take more drastic measures to find him, and Minho, now.

Didn’t the police say that there was someone on the look-out for them?

Taemin really wanted to know who it would be. He already knew some of the agents they had sent after him in the past. Of course, some of those could be eliminated. Taemin didn’t like being followed, and he had made that pretty clear to those who came too close. Let’s just say he knew they wouldn’t bother him again, ever. But this time around, he saw no way to actually find out about that hunter of his through means of technical communication and information. Taemin had already set Key on it, but the digital system hadn’t been able to unveil anything. Whoever it was, Taemin was sure it wouldn’t be someone untalented. By the way the government was trying to keep the information at close, he could deduce that it must be someone they were confident in would be able to catch him.

Taemin sighed. The way things turned out now, he had only one choice how to deal with this. Running his fingers over Aminta, which was secured on the right side of his belt, he typed a small text message into his phone with his left hand. He had barely sent it when a reply came.

There is a police investigation about 3 km north-west of you.

Taemin’s eyes glinted. Perfect.

Minho awoke by a beeping sound coming from the computer set-up.

He must have fallen asleep sometime after Taemin had left the hide-out. Minho wondered how he was even able to fall asleep after the nerve-wrecking stare Taemin had sent his way, and the threats with the knife.

Of course, Taemin had only cut a few strands of his hair, but it didn’t change the fact that the assassin could have very well done more with that sharp blade of his. Minho shuddered unconsciously at the thought of the blade edging its way into his skin, and it took all his willpower to wheel his terrified mind away from that picture.

Minho’s still sleepy eyes looked about the room. Nothing had changed since Taemin left, which meant that the assassin hadn’t checked in during the few hours Minho was asleep.

For some reason, it made Minho’s mood drop.

“Key, what time is it?” He asked the computer system.

The digital voice echoed as an answer to his question.

“It’s 4 pm.”

Minho nodded. He had slept for about six hours. Six hours during which Taemin had been out somewhere in the town, doing God knows what.

Minho hoped that the assassin wouldn’t resort to killing. He knew that the long-haired boy was coldhearted and lusting for blood more than an average criminal. And still something inside of him doubted that Taemin did this out of his own free will. Minho couldn’t imagine a young man like Taemin, doing this because he wanted to.

For Minho, killing was something no one could ever want. For him, killing was something you lost yourself in to escape something you can’t pull yourself out of alone. Something that hid who you really were.

And that was exactly what Minho thought Taemin was doing. The black haired man had made enough contact with the assassin to realize that there was something Taemin was running away from, something he couldn’t get out of alone.

It all showed in the hug.

That one hug that Taemin had shared with him.

Minho knew that it had made a turning point. Taemin had become more distant after. But Minho could only think of one reason for that: Self-preservation.

Minho had had enough time to think about why he had the urge to get to know the other male more. He had had enough time to figure out why he wanted the closeness, why he wouldn’t only be scared by the treatment Taemin gave to him.

He had had enough time, indeed, but he hadn’t found an answer either.

Minho only knew that something drew him to the younger. Was it the playful, threatening way Taemin spoke to him? Minho always thought that behind the threats there was something else. Something more. Was it Taemin’s looks? Minho couldn’t deny that the hazel haired boy was nothing short of breathtaking. The way his long hair flowed around his neck, the stare his deep brown eyes sent shudders down his spine, and the way the lean, yet muscular body moved so elegantly about the room, as if in a never-ending dance. Minho couldn’t deny the insane attraction he felt. Insane, because what captive found his captor fascinating? Or was it the fact that the younger seemed lost in his world of bloodshed? It was something Minho thought Taemin wasn’t aware of. But Minho felt that Taemin couldn’t handle a situation that didn’t go after his will, and that those situations had to be repaired with threats and killings. Because Taemin didn’t know how else he was supposed to change them. Minho knew that the boy had lived this way a long time.

And Minho, although he couldn’t place his feelings, knew one thing. He wanted to make the younger realize that killing wasn’t the only way to solve something.

The more Minho thought about it, the less he felt like he was the captive. Yes, from an objective point of view, his situation was horrible. He was being held prisoner by an emotionless killing machine that the police had been trying to capture for years, threatened almost every day.

But as much as Minho was terrified of the weapons Taemin used, he wasn’t afraid of the person.

A person to whom Minho knew there was a lot more than the first impression let on.

There was still another thing that Minho hadn’t quite figured out yet about the mystery of Lee Taemin, and that was why the other male was holding him captive. Minho knew that there must be some kind of ulterior motive to all of this. But why exactly, he couldn’t tell.

Feeling a wave of pain from his back, Minho drew in a sharp breath. He really was in need of getting those handcuffs off of him. His body hurt more than he could imagine, and Taemin hadn’t let him have a shower ever since he had been captured. The assassin let him use the toilet, yes, but Minho figured it was mostly to keep his room clean than to make Minho feel better.

“When will Taemin be back?” He asked Key, hoping he would get to hear a satisfying answer. He felt alone and bored, although he didn’t know for the life of him why that would change by Taemin coming back home.

“I don’t know, and I won’t tell.” The computer replied.

Minho groaned. As much as he sometimes enjoyed talking to the electronic system, Key always blocked off the moment Minho said anything about Taemin.

Minho knew that it must have been the assassin that programmed Key in that way as to make sure Minho wouldn’t find anything out. But what would he find out, anyway? Was Taemin keeping his secrets in a computer? Would he be scared that Minho could find out things about him if he kept asking Key?

Thinking about it again, it made sense.

Just as Minho was talking to Key about everything and nothing while he was being held captive, Taemin must have had only Key to talk to during all this time. The way the other male reacted to Minho showed clearly that he didn’t know how to interact with others, at least not others that he didn’t want to kill. With the people Taemin hunted down, there was no need to care for interaction – they would be dead in the blink of an eye anyway. But with others, Minho could imagine, Taemin had problems if he didn’t have everything under control.

And that was exactly why Taemin would talk to Key. The computer system was something that did everything on his command. It couldn’t actually think for itself, as much as the artificial intelligence of the device was clearly more advanced than others’.

And anyway, Key was the only thing close to a person in Taemin’s life, from what Minho could tell. There was no clue on anything that would hint towards Taemin having anything close to friends, or even acquaintances.

The thought pained Minho. It was like everything around him screamed that Taemin was lonely, without even realizing it himself.

The way the dishes or fast food leftovers were thrown across the small kitchen isle in front of him.

The lack of anything nearly private or personal in the room other than a collection of weird stones and items on the shelf.

The coldness of the naked walls.

The more he actually took notice of the space around him, Minho felt like he was indeed in a prison. But not in his.

For Minho, Taemin’s hide-out looked like a prison Taemin had unconsciously made for himself. Something to obviously keep others locked out – but also to keep himself locked in.

And that made Minho wonder: was it Taemin who chose to live like this, or was it whatever was driving to do those things?

Had Taemin actually made the choice, or was he being controlled by the one thing Minho felt swooning around his person: anger?

Minho didn’t know, but the thought of Taemin living like this all his life left him with a very strong emotion that Minho knew came from maybe not an entirely similar, but probably quite comparable past.

Compassion.

Taemin was crouched behind a tree, in the middle of a small patch of green between the grey and busy streets of Seoul. The little park where Key’s text had led him to seemed to be refreshing in the middle of the town.

But the park wasn’t empty, nor was it silent. Voices could be heard trailing over to his hiding spot, agitated tones and words reaching his ears. Some space of the green area had been barred, and secured with the police’s trademark tape.

A corpse wasn’t an especially common sight in broad daylight.

Taemin knew that. After all, he had been filling the morgue so many times that he forgot to keep counting. But he made sure to mainly only kill at night, unless his job had made it impossible to track down his target at any other time than during the day.

It was nearly too ironic that a corpse would get him his chance to come in contact with the police. He had played with the thought to kill someone just to get them to notice him – but somehow he didn’t need to.

Someone had done the job for him. Although he had to admit, in one of his arrogant thoughts, that the police would give him credit for this additional corpse anyway. The moment he would set one foot out of the hiding shadow of the trees and onto the crime scene, their opinions about the case would already be made.

But Taemin looked at the corpse, and immediately frowned is disapproval.

The way it was sprawled out of the grass wasn’t elegant in anyway.

There was nothing special about the murder, nothing inspiring or interesting. Taemin could see with only one glance that this had been done by an amateur.

The livid man on the grass had his arms stretched out above his head, his dead face turned to the side with his jaw on the ground. His legs were settled in a strange twist, probably from the try to somehow get away. The blood around the body was already turning a darker shade of red, nearly black. Taemin could clearly see the wounds in his back – approximately seven or eight stabs. The knife was still edged into the corpse, protruding out of his left shoulder.

It was by no means Taemin’s clean, although twisted way of getting his job done. Taemin loved the attention – making sure that there was something unique and personal about his killings.

This was just a brainless butchery, like the artistic work of a two-year-old child. Random and confusing.

Taemin clicked his tongue while his eyes were still fixed on the dead body. Such a waste.

The police officers scurrying around seemed to be in frenzy. They were requesting backups, making sure that no civilian entered the park, and calling for the forensic medical team every two minutes. It was far too hectic and much more attention given to one insignificant crime as this one. Taemin could understand the need to keep the fact out of the media’s eyes and ears, but really. This was getting ridiculous.

And the assassin was getting bored watching everyone run around like a stirred up group of chicken.

But Taemin knew he had to choose his timing well. He wanted to get somewhere with this, and not leave this place with even less information than he brought with him.

It was only when Taemin was sure that a few minutes since the backup call from the officers had passed that he stood up from his crouched position.

The assassin made his way towards the center of the scene deliberately. Confidently.

Because a killer’s confidence would always scare away the righteous minds. It was a fact that no one could deny – not even the best police officers and special agents. The threat coming from a confident, cold and terrifying criminal who was a lot more sure of his capacities than the public police forces was a skill.

And Taemin surely possessed it.

So it was no surprise for him that when he only so much as had set two steps into view of the police squad, the majority of heads were already set on him. The eyes of his adversaries widened in shock, some of them in fear. It made Taemin smile arrogantly. Apparently some of them had recognized him right away.

The crime scene had turned silent with his appearance. Taemin bathed in it, savoring the silent terror that reigned over the small spot in the park. It almost amused him how no one dared to say a word, silently watching him, waiting for him to make a move. The police was so dependent on him, really. They wouldn’t even have a job weren’t it for people like him.

It made Taemin’s lips escape a small snicker.

The noise sounded blurred, and tantalizing to the agents’ ears. But it seemed to make one of them fall out of his terrified trance.

“Who- who are you?” The quite young man required, his voice shaking because he knew that something must be up with Taemin. After all, his seniors remained quiet. And it gave him the chills.

Taemin’s head cocked slightly to the left as his eyes landed on the person that had spoken. The man was probably in his late twenties, short haired, his uniform making him look more buff than he actually was. The fingers on his gun belt were trembling, and he seemed to be contemplating whether to draw his weapon or not.

“Are you a newly appointed officer?” Taemin’s tone was light, but it wasn’t hard to hear the sharp edge to it.

The man looked at his seniors uncertainly, his eyes flickering from them to the assassin standing a few feet away.

“I-it’s my third week.” He decided to answer, not sure if he had made the right choice. His colleagues tensed up a bit, but fell out of their frozen shock. Some put their hands to their gun, other made sure to have it close. They looked between Taemin and their fellow policeman, waiting.

Taemin snickered.

“I see. So you are indeed quite new to all of this, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question that Taemin directed at the tensed up man. He was proving just how much more superior he was to him.

“But first, tell me your name.” It was a clear demand.

The young officer once again looked at his colleagues, before answering quietly. “P-park Jungsoo.”

“Well, let me explain a few things to you, then, Park Jungsoo.” The assassin spoke slowly but surely. He articulated well. He needed newbies to understand who held the reins in this city, and who didn’t. It was all about control. Control others so that they cannot control you.

“You might think that this dead body there was my work.” Taemin looked at the other policemen, too, as he said that. He wanted to be sure that they would understand. That they would know he was different. That they would know he was worse.

The officers looked at the corpse behind them, then back at Taemin. Doubt clouded the expressions of the elder ones. They knew Taemin and his pattern, and they knew what he was capable of. It wasn’t hard for them to discern normal crimes from his.

The younger policeman, Park Jungsoo, though, looked at the dead man and back at Taemin, confusion written over his face.

“If it wasn’t you, and you sure as hell look like someone capable of this, then why would you come to a crime scene that isn’t somehow related to you?”

Taemin took his time to look at the young officer. He doesn’t seem to understand his position yet, Taemin mused.

There were times when Taemin was a patient man. He could wait for what he needed, and he could do so for a long time, persevering. But today, although Taemin loved to play games, he wasn’t interested. Choi Minho was an urgent matter. Both finding out about the case, and going back home.

Taemin stopped in his thoughts for a moment.

He wanted to go back home because of Choi Minho? Now that Taemin thought about it, something made him slightly uneasy when he thought about leaving the slightly older male alone in his hideout. Something was tugging at his chest, but he couldn’t place the feeling.

Worry, he told himself. Worry that he could find out things about Taemin, worry that he might somehow escape. Yes, that must be it. But it wasn’t an entirely satisfying excuse. And it frustrated him.

He couldn’t think about this now, though. The policemen were the more important thing at hand.

He took a few steps closer to the newbie, making sure that each of his steps was as threatening as a hunter approaching his prey.

“Well, well. I think you are still not quite aware of who I am, though that shouldn’t matter right now.” Taemin’s eyes narrowed and he saw the other man swallow. “But even in your oblivious state, you shouldn’t test me.”

The assassin’s voice was now cold and sharp. The younger officer didn’t know why his words had made such an impact on Taemin, nor did he care. Danger was emanating from him, and he knew that something ugly was about to happen.

And he was right.

Faster than Park Jungsoo could process, Taemin had swirled away from him. The officer was standing there, perplexed, eyes still fixed on the spot where the killer had stood just mere seconds ago. Where had he gone?

And then his ears registered noise. His head turned towards the source of it, and he almost had to bend over at the sight, the urge to empty his stomach hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Yanai and Aminta were swirling in Taemins hands as he directed their barrels between the other policemen. His movements were sharp, determined, and gracious. But the work he was making with them wasn’t a pretty sight to see.

It was clear that Taemin had one thing in mind as he moved between the unsuspecting men. He wanted to show off, and he wanted to terrify.

He didn’t only kill them. He butchered them.

One bullet directed at the temple, another at the throat. And when that was done, another, post mortem, at the heart. And he almost danced through the gushes of blood, from one officer to the next, making sure each of them received the same treatment. The last ones in line tried to move, tried to somehow stop him. But he moved faster than they did, executing each before they could usefully do something.

The act was bloody, and it was Taemin. He had to show how he killed, show how it was done. He would be sure that the new policeman would know, from now on.

The latter, although repulsed and horrified by the sight of his superiors getting murdered right in front of his eyes, couldn’t take them away from the scene in front of him.

He was powerless.

He had sunken to his knees, so helpless against the situation at hand. He couldn’t let the nausea that had taken over him out, his eyes crying tears after tears instead.

Those men had guided him for the past three weeks, making sure he would settle in alright. They had tried to get him adjusted, taught him what he needed to know. But none of them had ever prepared him for a situation like this.

Taemin knew, and he took full advantage of it.

It wouldn’t do if he killed the young policeman. If he died, he wouldn’t understand. On top of that, this was just the perfect way to get the attention from the government. They reacted strongly to officers being killed.

Taemin stood in between the dead bodies, admiring his work. Yes, he was satisfied with himself. This was the real art of killing, not backstabbing some fleeing prey.

He set one foot in front of the other, making his way to the sobbing man.

When he stood before him, Park Jungsoo recoiled a bit from his presence, the deep sobs breaking through his throat, his mind seemingly too overpowered with everything.

Taemin smirked at the sight. He liked to break them. It was a form of control he liked just as much as the control over life.

“I will not kill you.” The words echoed through the small park, and the last officer looked up at them. He eyes were empty, the shudders running through his body making him look almost pitiful.

“I hope you know, now, what I am capable of.” Taemin’s eyes were fixated on the man before him, amused. “Yes, I do think you do.”

Taemin reached into a pocket of his black leather vest, pulling out a strand of black hair tied together with a small ribbon. He tossed it in front of the broken down man, who flinched at the action.

“Give this to your superiors. Tell them they better be under the Banpo Bridge by midnight on Friday. If not… “ Taemin looked over to the scattered corpses around him. “They will most likely lose more than just a few officers.”

Then he bent over, his hand gripping the unharmed man’s chin forcefully. He brought his face up and close, making sure that his eyes were settled on his before speaking again.

“I want answers.” He whispered, his fingers tightening slightly as his frustration about the case flooded his veins once again. “Make sure I get them, Park Jungsoo.”

With those words, he released the man and turned his back on the little park.

Now all he had to do was to return home and wait.

Although Taemin’s patience was probably going to be tested.

Something just told him that the moment he would enter the hideout, covered in sprinkles of blood, Choi Minho wouldn’t leave him alone.

The fact that Taemin knew it, was aware of it, scared him.

He didn’t want to go back to that room, where the other young man would be waiting for him, would have nothing else to do but wait for him.

That thought made him feel better. Because through all the loss of control Choi Minho had brought him over the past few weeks, some things wouldn’t change.

Taemin would make sure of that.

“How did it go?” was the first thing Taemin got to hear from his computer system the moment he set his foot into his hideout.

The assassin ignored the question, making his way past the shelf towards the bed to which Minho was still attached. Taemin also ignored the look that Minho gave him as he let himself fall onto the bed.

It was weird for Minho to see Taemin act this way. It was second the first time, except the times that the other male went to bed, that Taemin was in near proximity to Minho. That Taemin went anything near him out of his own will. Sure, they weren’t able to look at each other due to Taemin lying down onto the soft and comfortable mattress. But still, Minho felt somehow connected by the closeness.

Taemin sighed as he got rid of his black leather jacket, flinging it to somewhere on the other side of the bed.

“Yah! Taemin I asked you a question!” Key’s robotic voice resounded through the room.

Taemin just groaned, shifting his body so his face was pressed into one of his pillows. “Just look it up in the police files!” He said, his voice slightly muffled by the cushion. “I bet they already made a report about it anyway!”

Key huffed, but otherwise remained quiet. Minho figured he must have followed Taemin’s words, otherwise it wouldn’t be like Key to shut up so fast.

Minho brought his attention back to the presence of the other male sprawled out on the bed behind him.

Minho stayed quiet; listening to Taemin’s breathing that echoed comparatively loudly in the silent room. His eyes wanted to look at Taemin’s relaxed form, something he had never had the chance to see until now.

It looked almost serene, how Taemin was laying there, his arms loosely stretched away from his body, his face halfway buried into a pillow. His eyes were closed, and nothing but his deep breaths told Minho that the other male wasn’t yet asleep. He wondered what had happened to make Taemin this relaxed, to make him seem… almost at ease. Minho hadn’t seen Taemin act so normal since he got kidnapped.

His eyes wandered from the cozy body to the edge of the bed, where Taemin had flung his jacket to. It was hanging loosely from the side of the mattress, discarded and uncared for.

But something on it caught Minho’s attention. He squinted his eyes to discern what it was, and when his mind processed what he was seeing, his face mirrored shock.

“I-is that-“

Minho’s voice sounded dry. He ran his tongue over his lips, trying to somehow muster up the courage to finish his question. It was the first time in days that he spoke to Taemin. He didn’t know how the other would react, but he couldn’t just let what he saw slide past him.

“Is that blood?!”

When the words left his mouth, he almost regretted them. He was the captive; he was the one who should act upon every word Taemin said. He should be afraid of the other male, should shy away from him, from what he was. Shouldn’t ask him about his business, and sure as hell shouldn’t question anything.

But Minho couldn’t help it. Taemin made him act weird, really – Minho didn’t think around him. He just did.

So he waited for the storm that was sure to come. He had just confronted Taemin, and he knew that it wasn’t a wise choice. At all.

At Minho’s voice, Taemin groaned again. He didn’t want to be confronted with the other male’s face, that – much to his dismay – seemed to have found its way into his mind far more often than he would have liked.

It was luck for Minho that Taemin felt way too much at ease after coming down from the high of killing to really bother. Would Taemin still have been as much on edge as he had been earlier, something would have gone really wrong. And Taemin knew that.

Taemin couldn’t pinpoint why he acted so careless right now.

Normally, Taemin would have threatened Minho the second the words had left his mouth. He would have opted for the safest possibility of all – making Minho scared. Showing him how cold Taemin really was, how dangerous he was for him. Or he would at least ignore the other male. Showing him the cold shoulder, maybe send an icing glare his way.

But Taemin felt strange.

It’s the high from killing, he told himself. Nothing less, nothing more. He always bathed in that indescribable feeling, that adrenaline rush that burned in his veins, sending more oxygen to his brain than he needed, making him light headed. The feeling always pooled in his sides far longer than it would after a rollercoaster ride, sending shivers up his body occasionally. Yes, it was probably because of that. Taemin just felt too nice at that moment to let it be ruined b Choi Minho.

But was it really?

It was a question that forced itself into Taemin’s tired mind. A question he had already failed to satisfyingly answer in the park.

Choi Minho creeped into Taemin’s head way more than he should – and Taemin knew that it couldn’t come from worry or uneasiness alone. Of course, Minho was his captive, his prey. A pawn he needed to complete his revenge. And the situation with Minho’s records was very unsettling. But still, something told Taemin that it wasn’t just because of that that the other male ghosted around in his consciousness.

It wasn’t only worry, frustration and control that Taemin felt. He felt far more.

For some unexplained reason, Taemin felt very much intrigued by Minho.

But that was weird. Why would Choi Minho interest him? He was a snotty, rich, perfect bastard. Someone without any guts, scared by the smallest of Taemin’s actions, and he seemed pretty much offended by blood.

Blood.

He had almost forgotten that Minho was still sitting at the foot of the bed, probably not having torn his horrified eyes from the droplets of crimson liquid on his vest.

Imagining Minho’s face, Taemin didn’t even bother moving by an inch.

“Yes, it’s blood. Just, shut up.” He groaned. He had stuff to think about, stuff to figure out.

It was bad enough that he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head – but now Minho wanted to mark the offended puppy, too.

All in all, Minho was so much different from Taemin. But the assassin knew why the spark of interest towards the other male couldn’t die in his chest. There had been something in Minho’s eyes when Taemin had kidnapped him, something determind. When Minho had agreed to let Taemin kidnap him without force, the assassin had felt a different sort of aura emanate from the boy.

And it had been almost as dark as his own.

Taemin’s reply had left Minho wide eyed at the end of the bed.

Something had to be considerably off for Taemin to not even move at the affront Minho had started.

After all the possibilities that Minho had played through his head in a matter of seconds, he should be only one thing – and that was dead.

And the fact that he wasn’t made Minho almost feel uncomfortable.

This wasn’t the Taemin he had spent the last two? weeks with. Minho couldn’t be quite sure about the amount of time, but somehow he felt that it had to be a lot more than only one week. The Taemin that had kidnapped him lusted for control. For complete, sick control. Anything that wouldn’t go as he had planned would be eliminated in one way or another, by threats or by killing. The Taemin that had mocked him, threatened him, was cold hearted, aiming to only hurt and bring misery with his every word. The assassin he knew, although knowing wasn’t the right term in their relationship, loved to play, in the most hideous way of the word.

There was only one reason for Minho as to why Taemin didn’t flip out at his question.

He must have expected it.

And as weird as the thought was, there was no other nearly satisfying answer.

If Taemin had expected it, it meant that Taemin thought Minho would say something like that. If Taemin thought Minho would say something similar to his question, it meant that Taemin thought about what Minho would think. If he thought about Minho’s reaction, Taemin thought about Minho.

And if Taemin thought about Minho…

A small smile spread itself across Minho’s lips, despite the serious situation he was in.

If Taemin thought about Minho, there was a chance that he wasn’t the cold hearted assassin he pretended to be.

Looking back over to Taemin’s sprawled out form, a small tingle of hope latched itself onto his heart.

If the killer really thought about him, there was hope, right?

Minho awoke deep in the darkness of the night by a foot being shoved harshly into the back of his head.

He groaned, his free hand immediately reaching up to cover the hurting spot. He wasn’t comfortable already, and now this. He just wanted to sleep, to let his body be taken away into the deep waves of slumber.

Away from the room he had spent the last, what, two weeks, now, certainly, in.

It had become so familiar.

Grunting, he turned his body so he could see what had caused his sudden and unwelcomed awakening.

His eyes fell onto Taemin’s restless form. The boy seemed to squirm under the covers, his hands and legs flailing a little.

Minho’s eyes needed their time to adjust to the darkness.

---------

“It’s only you and me now, Choi Minwoo.”

His voice was cold, hard, determined. Hatred and poison were laced in it, as his eyes and his guns were set on the one man he had wanted to have in his shooting line for almost an entire decade.

But the man smirked.

“You and me, Taemin? Only you and me?” There was assurance in his words, his grin was almost cocky. “You know just as well as I do that this isn’t entirely about me anymore, don’t you?”

He was confused. What did he mean? His eyes darted across the roof’s terrace. There wasn’t one soul present except the two of them. His eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” He spat, his voice slightly unsettled.

Choi Minwoo just stood there, arms helplessly raised, but his smirk didn’t leave his thin lips. Minho really must have gotten his plumb ones from his mother.

His eyes widened and he shook his head. Why was he thinking about Minho in such a situation?

He readied the guns again at the man in front of him, his fingers tightening on the triggers.

“Strange, isn’t it. Who would have thought an assassin could care for his own pawn?”

His eyelids faltered. …What?

The smirk on Choi Minwoo’s face grew larger.

“Well well well. Seems like I hit the right button, didn’t I?” He laughed, cold and amused. “You did fall in love with my little bastard, didn’t you? Oh my, how absolutely precious.”

His hands started shaking. No. No, this wasn’t happening.

“N-no, I did not.” He said, but his words didn’t sound convincing.

Choi Minwoo laughed again. “Oh, my little boy. You are too naïve to be an assassin. You already thought that Minho’s kidnapping was all under your control, and now this. Tell me, did he say he felt the same way? Did he?”

He bit his lip, not answering. Minho had never said anything to him, but he hadn’t needed to. He had known by the look in his eyes.

“Oh Taemin. My little, silly Taemin.” Choi Minwoo’s grin grew into a grimace of ice and insanity. “You really believed that in the end, you would walk out of all of this with him, didn’t you?”

Taemin began to tremble. The anger that surged through his veins was as hot as fire, nd started blinding his vision, taking over his entire body. He couldn’t see the man in front of him anymore, but he could feel his haughty eyes on him, taste the smirk plastered on his face.

Enough.

It was enough.

Two shots echoed over the roof.

As he heard the body fall to the ground, Taemin’s eyes began to clear slowly of the hot white fog. His hands trembled, still, and he had to let Yanai and Aminta go. The two shotguns fell to the ground soundly as Taemin’s hands landed back by his sides, his fingers pressed into firm fists.

And then he heard the groaning of his victim.

The sound was freeing him, it was filling his ears, that deep, desperate noise of a fleeting life that Taemin had ended all too willingly-

His eyes cleared the last remnants of blindness, and the sight before him came crashing down.

Lying on the ground, breathing ragged and shallow, was Minho. The wound on his chest gushed blood with every exhale of breath he took, pouring the thick red liquid around his form like it was going to swallow him whole. His arms were still outstretched, protective, in the same way he stood when he had shielded his father from the assassin’s bullets.

Taemin’s features distorted into a horrified mask. He started trembling more, uncontrollably.

Then he heard it. The spiteful laugh of Choi Minwoo boomed over the roof as he stood behind his bleeding son, the biggest and most cold smile on his face as he looked at the form at his feet.

“See? See, Taemin-ah? This is what such things as love brings us. Sacrifice, idiotic death, and pain.”

Taemin’s eyes wandered to Minho, ears filled with the ungrateful words of his father about the person who had just sacrificed his life to protect his.

Minho’s tired and heavy eyes met his, and he smiled weakly. Tears began to roll down the killer’s cheeks, and he took a wary step towards the dying man.

“Why, Minho?” he whispered, so low that he wasn’t sure the other could even hear him. Minho took another deep, death rattling breath, coughing up more blood than taking in oxygen.

The sight made Taemin snap out of his terror, and he ran towards Minho, falling down on his knees at his side.

“Why? Why did you do this? Why?” Taemins voice wasn’t steady in the least, shaky with horror and sadness, as he carefully lifted Minho’s upper body onto his lap.

Minho tried to smile, his lips faltering as his face contorted in pain.

“Because-“ He tried to breathe slowly again, coughing, “Because I just had to.” Taemin’s eyes bore into his, tears dripping down onto Minho’s face. “He’s my father after all.”

Taemin trembled at the words.

“Your father?!” The assassin’s voice grew in volume. Minho winced, from the sound of his voice or the pain, Taemin couldn’t tell.

“This man isn’t your father! A father cares for his child, smiles with it, worries over it, cries over it! A father would do anything to protect his son!” Taemin said with determination, anger once again boiling up in his body. But this time it wasn’t from hatred. It was from desperation.

“A father doesn’t let his child get kidnapped on purpose and laugh when he is dying at his feet!”

Taemin’s desperation grew even more when he saw that Minho’s broken smile didn’t falter at his words.

“You’re right, Taemin.” Minho said, and a small sob escaped from between Taemin’s lips. “But like a father to his son, a son has certain duties towards his father. And mine was to protect him, even when he deserved it the least.”

Taemin’s crying increased at those words, and his hands tightened on Minho’s body.

“You can’t, Minho, you can’t go! I haven’t allowed you to go. You’re my captive, you are to stay with me until I release or kill you!” Taemin cried, tears blinding his eyes.

Minho chuckled, the action making him groan in pain, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

“But you killed me. Those were your bullets. I am free to go.” Minho’s breathing grew even shallower, his eyelids fluttering heavily with the strain to remain open.

Taemin shook his head, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t-“ Minho coughed loudly, making the killer’s eyes shot open again frantically. He could feel the energy leave Minho’s body, and he looked at the bleeding man, terrified.

“No, no no no, Minho, stay with me. Please, I need you to stay with me!” He exclaimed, his right hand pressing onto the bloody wound on Minho’s chest. It barely heaved anymore, and Taemin could feel the decreasing heartbeats in the tips of his fingers. “I need you to stay!” The assassin cried again, looking into Minho’s eyes, searching, hoping.

Minho focused his eyes onto Taemin’s, struggling to keep them open. “Taemin, I…” He paused, grimacing. “I haven’t told you… have I?”

“T-told me wh-what?” Taemin asked through his tears, his whole body shaking.

“That I… that I…”

Minho’s eyes unfocused then. Taemin’s hands flew to Minho’s face, caressing, begging. But the last bit of energy, the last bit of tension escaped Minho’s body then, and he slumped against Taemin’s supporting body, lifeless.

“NOOOOO!”

---------

Taemin woke up, startled, drenched in sweat and tears. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his eyes shortly unfocused and disoriented.

He gasped for air a few times. His left hand came up to his face and wiped his hair and sweat away.

It had all been a dream. Only a work of his subconscious, of his imagination. Nothing to worry about, nothing to misinterpret.

The assassin wasn’t used to have his usual dream altered, changed into something like this. Something so… personal and almost private.

Taemin sighed, shaking his head. I really have gotten myself into something… he thought.

A sudden noise from the bottom of the bed startled him. His head snapped up, eyes lodging onto the figure at the end of his bed. His eyes narrowed.

“How long have you been watching me?”

A hand came up to the back of his head, embarrassed. Minho had been so lost in watching Taemin’s agitated dream that he had been hung up in the thought of what would be best – wake him up to calm him down, or just ignore the slashing on the bed and try getting back to sleep – that he hadn’t been aware that the killer had woken up.

Looking at him now, Minho was sure Taemin must be pretty pissed.

“Are you going to answer or will you just keep staring at me all flustered?” The assassin’s voice  cut through the darkness impatiently.

Minho kept silent, his eyes still on Taemin’s dark form. He could see the other’s eyes on him, glinting in the dark, and for some reason it made him nervous. It wasn’t the scary kind of nervous he had felt when he had met Temin first. But he didn’t want to think too much into the feeling. Another weird thing was that the atmosphere around them was peaceful. Minho had expected Taemin to wake up from his dream more bad tempered than calm, so he was slightly taken aback by the lack of threat in the air.

“Well?”

Minho’s eyes shifted up to meet the killer’s ones.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asked instead. Once again he was being brave, pushing his luck rather than living safely around the assassin. But Minho couldn’t help it, there was something that pulled him into asking the very things his curious mind wanted to know, no matter what problems those questions might cause him.

Taemin’s eyes became guarded, but he was too tired to get worked up. The dream he had had included Minho, more than he would have liked. It wasn’t totally out of his business, Taemin knew that. But he wouldn’t admit to having dreamt about the other man.

He’d rather die.

“You could say that.” Taemin answered vaguely. He didn’t know why Minho wanted to know. It wasn’t like the other man even cared. At least Taemin couldn’t imagine he would, having been kidnapped by him and held like an animal until now.

Minho hummed as an answer. His eyes didn’t leave Taemin’s, and this time it was the assassin’s turn to feel uncomfortable and cornered under the other’s gaze. But it wasn’t supposed to be this way, that his captive could put him into such a fragile and unsure mindset. It had to be the effects of the dream. Yes, that had to be it.

The two men observed each other for some time in silence, and both were stunned silent by the peaceful air surrounding them. Taemin was the first to break that silence, and the way he did it hadn’t been expected by Minho at all.

“I’ll take off your cuffs. At least you can lie down properly that way. Key won’t let you out anyway even if you tried to get away.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. What was happening? This wasn’t the same killer he had spent the last weeks around, was it?

Minho didn’t say a word as Taemin leaned forward, pulling the keys out from under his pillow. The clunk of the metal filled the room as the assassin fumbled with the hand cuffs in the dark, taking two or three tries to find the key hole. Then a slight click resounded through the dark room,  and Minho was no longer restrained.

Minho’s fingers instantly brushed over the abused wrist, his knuckles swollen from the bondage. He didn’t know what to say. He figured Taemin would like it better if he was silent, so he opted to merely send him a thankful look. He didn’t trust his mouth right now, anyway.

He heard Taemin lie back down into his pillow without another word, heard his calm breathing fill the room. He decided to follow the other man’s lead and lay down on the cold floor. He grimaced as his cheek hit the cool surface, but his body was so thankful to be able to rest in a lying position that he felt a heavy sigh escape his lips. He didn’t dare asking for a blanket. Taemin had acted so out of character this night that he was afraid to push his luck even more.

Minho’s mind slowly fogged over with sleepiness, but before he started to drift away into unconsciousness his mind wandered back to the recent events and to the assassin’s behavior. Minho knew, even this close to drifting away into sleep, that maybe it was none of his business. But he couldn’t help but form one particular thought in his mind just before he shuddered away.

I wonder what that dream was about.

As nice as the first half-decent night of sleep had been, the awakening was just as cruel as it had been all the mornings before.

“Yah, wake up!”

A low grumble escaped Minho’s lips. He didn’t want to wake up just yet. No, he really didn’t want to. It had been so nice to bounce over the fluffy clouds and play catch with the blue and white sheep that lived there, much too nice to fall asleep on the soft, fuzzy surface after a particularly long run over those fields of white, to wake up. Minho nuzzled his face into the comfortable material of the clouds, only to realize that it was getting awfully hard and cold. Was this a rain cloud? He wondered, but before he could actually check, a sharp pain in his shin jolted him entirely awake.

“W-what?”

“Stop sleeping, I told you to wake up already!”

Taemin’s firm voice echoed through his still sleepy mind, but even half asleep Minho had the feeling that it had lost some of it’s cold and venomous edge.

“What time is it?”

“What does it-“

“Half past seven, sleepy head! What did you dream of that you slept like a rock, froggy? Huge pillows and a warm bed?”

It was the computer’s electronic voice that answered him, while Taemin sent the electronic equipment a resentful look for interrupting him. Minho rubbed his left eye as he looked around the room. Everything looked just like it had the past days. Stiffling a yawn, he stretched his sore limbs until he realized his still wasn’t bound anymore. Remembering the night before, a small smile pulled at his lips. Then Key’s words slowly registered, and Minho’s forehead scrunched up.

“Froggy?” He asked, confused.

Key snickered, obviously pleased with the nickname and the reaction to it. “You have such big eyes, I couldn’t help but give you that name. It fits, don’t you think, Taemin-ah?”

Taemin sent Minho a glare.

“I don’t see why you should nickname a captive. It makes it too familiar. It’s not supposed to be an amusing time for him here, Key.”

“Boo, you’re no fun baby boy. Live a little!”

This time it was Key that received a deathly glare from the killer. “I’ll live once I got revenge. Until then, I don’t have a life worth living. You know that.” His voice had turned colder again at those words.

The assassin stood up from his seat and checked the two guns that were secured at his belt before turning towards the hide out’s door. At his touch, it opened just so much as to let Taemin through. One foot already out the door, Taemin turned around again to bore his eyes into Minho’s.

“If you try to escape, I swear I will make sure you won’t be able to attempt anything of the sort ever again. I’ve cuffed you to the bed once. I can do much worse the second time around.” As if to underline his point, Taemin snatched a pocket knife from the side of his belt and let it twirl around in his hand menacingly. “Just because I uncuffed you now doesn’t mean you should feel safe.”

And with that, the assassin left the room, and the door closed firmly behind him, the locking of the only way out resonating in the small space around Minho.

It was silent for a while after Taemin left, and Minho wondered. What did Taemin mean when he said he didn’t have a life worth living until he got his revenge?

The inflow of visitors into the NPA’s office building was certainly low. Taemin had been perched on an ad joint roof top with full view of the main entrance. Nothing anywhere near relevant or even interesting had happened, and the assassin was getting rather impatient. He knew who was expected to be having a meeting with the higher ups today, and he sure was set on getting all the information he could out of that rather unofficial get-together.

Taemin hadn’t been completely fooled by Jonghyun’s attempt to bring him off Minho’s track. He knew very well that his position gave Jonghyun the necessary importance within the National Security’s network to get included in almost all highly important cases and cover-ups. The assassin was rather displeased to see that his threats didn’t work on Jonghyun as much as he would have liked them to. But he couldn’t just kill the man, either.

He needed him. And that fact didn’t fail to constantly draw an expression of disgust on the killer’s face.

What Jonghyun didn’t know was that Taemin had been in his office more than an hour earlier to their small… chit chat. Taemin knew that if Jonghyun was hiding something really important, the Executive Assistant Director wouldn’t keep the documents anywhere near his office. But he also knew that Jonghyun was much more chaotic than he let on with his perfectly tailored suit, which led him to have to keep things written down the old fashioned way somewhere to remember them later on.

The assassin had consequently searched every corner of Jonghyun’s office, though, without a trace of what he knew should be there. He had been getting rather frustrated by the lack of information coming up, only further annoyed by the note with the meeting time with Jung Eunseok.

He had stared at those seven letters for a good five minutes, trying to calm down his anger at Jonghyun’s cocky attempt to build up more reputation underground. Taemin had bitterly laughed, then, because if he wanted he could make all of those mafia cowards stop any kind of interaction with the National Security. Jonghyun, though, seemed to be keeping underestimating him, clearly only ever seeing him as a bratty child.

As the killer’s eyes had trailed down the notepad’s small paper, he had noticed a faded imprint of letters almost just under the written ones. They were from a former sheet of paper, no doubt, that Jonghyun had ripped off and apparently thrown away. But what was more interesting than the imprints themselves were the letters they formed.

Meeting, 1808: 1200, uo

A smirk had plastered itself onto Taemin’s lips then, because he knew he had just found what he had been searching for. He hadn’t been able but to thank Jonghyun’s chaotic lifestyle, the one thing that he couldn’t change and that made his position as Executive Assistant Director just much more questionable.

And so here he was, waiting for Jonghyun to show up. He knew the man wasn’t in the building today – he had a very important court attendance to make, but Taemin knew he would come in time for the meeting. You don’t let your higher-ups wait for you, even unofficially.

The killer was just contemplating whether he should just make his way into the building from the roof, finding the destined meeting place on his own, when a big black car with tinted back-windows drove up the street and onto the parking lot, stopping just in front of the building’s main entrance.

Taemin saw Jonghyun step out of it, a defenitely new dark blue working suit perfectly fitting his body. The assassin had to roll his eyes. It was defenitely like Jonghyun to try and impress his superiors whenever he got the chance.

Flinging his cellphone out of his pocket, he sent the needed code to Key’s system a minute after Jonghyun entered the building, making his plan roll into action.

It didn’t even take a minute for the computer to reply.

Floor 13

Taemin smiled and made his way over to the rooftop’s door into the NPA’s office building. This will be fun for once.

[miishine]

hyuk/ken -- thorns and roses

genre: red light au warnings: mentions of prostitution words: 1,3k a/n: another wip that’ll never see the light of day completely finished…

„uh,“ the stranger blinked, „I’m looking for a club.“

The alley was dark, just like it always was at this time of the night, and Sanghyuk blew the smoke of his cigarette out between clenched teeth.

Tonight had been a very low night. A few stray cats here and there, one or two bigger whales that got him a nice amount of money to survive for the next few weeks. It was enough to get by, but Sanghyuk didn’t like it when he had time in between to think. It was bothersome, thinking too much, and in his field of work it was better to leave the thoughts out of the job.

He looked up as he heard footsteps coming down the alley, the sound unsure, as if the person didn’t know if they were going the right way. Sanghyuk’s eyes took in a tall man at the end of the alley, cautiously walking along as his eyes trailed over the come down houses to his sides. The other two hookers Sanghyuk agreed to share his territory with eyed the stranger with interest, and Sanghyuk scoffed, uninterested. The guy clearly didn’t look like he was out for a little of paid fun with any of them, judging from the way his expression became alarmed as one of the guys approached him.

Sanghyuk looked on, more bored than anything as Wonshik tried to work his charm. The man’s eyes flickered across Wonshik’s lips as he spoke and Sanghyuk chuckled. Wonshik had a way about him that had evan made Sanghyuk consider to fuck him just for fun the first time they met - he was easy going but dominant, and Sanghyuk found him rather sweet. But he had his rules, and one fo those was to never land in bed with one of his fellow coworkers. It made everything too complicated, even more so because it would be in no way a job for money. Sanghyuk had learned fast that those things never worked out.

His eyes were still fixed on the man, though, and he had a little frown on his face that almost made him think ‚cute‘. He looked lost by now, eyes darting here and there, trying to politely tell Wonshik off, hands in front of his chest in an attempt to bring up excuses. Sanghyuk chuckled, because he knew how persuasive Wonshik could become, but he took a little pity on the guy, clearly walking down the wrong block. Maybe even a tourist from another city, from the way his clothes didn’t specifically match the on going trends. Standing up straight from his position against the wall, Sanghyuk flicked the bud of his cigarette onto the ground, not bothering about stepping it off.

His steps were lazy as he moved over to Wonshik, grabbing him by the shoulder to make him turn, giving the stranger small smile.

„Wonshik, leave the guy alone, he clearly isn’t interested.“ He gave the man a short once over, and now that he was standing rather close, he had to hold back a laugh. The guy was clearly not part of their clientele, checkered, too wide shirt and khaki pants screaming country boy, his light brown hair and glasses accentuating his somewhat nerdy look. Sanghyuk still thought he was cute, somehow, and smirked, which earned him a light red streak along the man’s cheeks.

„Don’t meddle with my business, Sanghyuk.“ Wonshik’s words were growled, mostly for show though, and Sanghyuk couldn’t help but grin at him. Wonshik retreated, though, giving the stranger a lost look before mumbling under his breath that he wasn’t worth it anyway, walking off to lean against the banister of a pair of stairs. Sanghyuk chuckled, turning to the stranger who was blinking at him in surprise.

„Uh, thanks.“ He offered, eyes raking down Sanghyuk’s appearance, unsure what to make of him. Sanghyuk simply shrugged, hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

„Where did you want to go?“ He asked, mostly out of curiosity. The fancy streets were one block down, but even as a stranger to the city people didn’t often land in the back alleys unless they wanted to.

„Uh,“ the stranger blinked, „I’m looking for a club.“

Sanghyuk raised one of his eyebrows, eyes now trailing pointedly over the man’s attire. The stranger followed his gaze, looking down at himself, before looking back up to meet Sanghyuk’s eyes, questioningly.

„What?“

Sanghyuk couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, hand coming out of his pocket to point his finger along the clothes.

„A club? Dressed like this?“

The blush was back on the man’s cheeks in no time, this time much more prominent as he shifted on his feet, insecure.

„S-so what?“ he stammered, trying to sound accusing but only managing to make Sanghyuk laugh more. „At least it’s-„ he licked his lips as his eyes trailed over Sanghyuk’s clothes, jeans ripped along his thighs and tight muscle shirt emphasizing his build, „decent.“

Sanghyuk smirked, taking one step closer. The man was tall, just as tall as him, but Sanghyuk knew how to make them feel small if he wanted to. His eyes turned dark, the smirk still playing along his lips as he leaned in, breath hitting the stranger’s skin, making him shudder.

„I don’t think you are in any position to tell me anything about,“ he licked his lips, emphasizing the next words, „decent clothes, as you put it,“ he murmured, voice low and threatening as the man gulped, cheeks heated and eyes nervously running over Sanghyuk’s face, „but if you want, I can  help you get rid of them.“ The proposition was heavy in the words, startling the man to scramble a step back.

„I, uh, no- thank you but-„

Sanghyuk threw his head back in laughter as he turned around, not before sending a small wink at the man again, still chuckling under his breath.

„That way,“ Sanghyuk snickered as his left hand pointed right, before he made his way back into the alley without a look back. He could hear the stranger step away, muttering a quiet ‚thank you‘ that had Sanghyuk roll his eyes.

He passed Wonshik, who threw him a slightly disgruntled look, and Sanghyuk couldn’t help but poke his tongue out at him as he walked on. It was late, and he should really start to make his way back home, the first few lights of the morning glimmering over the buildings around them.

—-

„Why did you need a roommate again?“ Wonshik asked as they were lazing on Sanghyuk’s couch, cigarette dangling from his lips as he looked up at Sanghyuk who rolled his eyes, attention on the pot of boiling kimchi stew in front of him..

„Don’t talk like I had any say in the matter. The landlady contacted me and said that her grandson needed a place to live in as he’s moving to the city.“ His eyebrows creased as he guided the ladle to his lips to give it a taste. „It’s either I share with him, or she kicks me out.“

„Tough old lady,“ Wonshik grumbled around his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of his nose. „When is he going to come over?“

Sanghyuk shrugged as he added a little more salt into the pot. „Not sure. Maybe this afternoon, maybe tomorrow. She didn’t say.“

Wonshik hummed as Sanghyuk turned down the stove to let the stew rest for a bit, moving to the counter to put out some dishes. Suddenly Wonshik’s expression became smug, and Sanghyuk’s eyebrows creased as he looked at him wearily.

„…What.“

Wonshik chuckled, bringing his hands to rest behind his head, giving Sanghyuk a pointed look. „Maybe he’s hot. You know.“ He wriggled his eyebrows, and Sanghyuk had the sudden urge to throw a plate at him.

„Who cares.“

Wonshik smirked, making Sanghyuk’s blood boil in his veins at the implications. „Maybe you might, you know. Like him.“

„I won’t. I’m not looking for a relationship. Plus, I’m getting laid plenty, thank you.“ He added as Wonshik raised his eyebrows at him pointedly. He turned back to the stove, checking on the meal, trying to ignore Wonshik’s high and mighty expression.

„Well, not with this apron, you won’t.“

Wonshik ducked his head as the top of the pot came flying at his head, leaving a small dent in the wall behind him.

[miishine]

hyuk/leo -- come on closer

genre: bakery au warnings: none words: 3,3k a/n: idk why I didnt finish this bc I knew exactly how it was going... hmm

sanghyuk’s working at a bakery and he really can’t help but remember a certain customer’s order right.

It’s a cool thursday morning, the first time Sanghyuk meets Taekwoon — he can tell by the rush of cold air that flows in when the door opens. It makes his arms chill up, the goosebumps rising and his teeth almost clattering, but then the cold is gone and it’s warm again behind the counter Sanghyuk tries not to fall asleep at. He’s not good with morning shifts, waking up at five am just to be able to make it to the bakery at six thirty. But the freshly brewed coffee from Hakyeon and the barely out of the oven croissants Jaehwan shoves into his mouth are enough to keep him awake for most part of the morning.

Today it was hard, though, because Sanghyuk has been up studying all night. Midterms are almost around the corner, and he really can’t work out another barely passing grade. It’s with that in his mind that he stands behind the counter trying hard not to yawn, not fully aware that the customer that came into the shop has been waiting for Sanghyuk to serve him for the past five minutes.

“Uhm, could I order?”

It’s the soft voice that bring Sanghyuk out of his reverie, and it’s the pretty flushed color of still cold cheeks that keep him staring just a little longer than he had anticipated.

“Uhh, of course! What can I help you with today?” He says with cheeks almost as pink as his ears flush at the embarrassment, and he takes note to pack the customer’s order with utter care.

“I’ll take two chocolate croissants and two pear tartelettes, please,” comes the reply. Sanghyuk glances at the customer; he’s tall, his black hair growing long and falling into his eyes. His scarf is wound up and around his nose, obstructing his lower face from view, and Sanghyuk thinks he looks somewhat shivery. He makes sure to take the still warm croissants, hoping it might warm the customer up.

“For take out?” he gets a curt nod, “do you want me to pack them separately?”

“No, it’s just for one please.”

It surprises Sanghyuk a little, four pastries for breakfast for only one person? But he still does as he’s told, and when he hands the food over the counter and gets the exactly counted money for it in return, he can’t help but smile. He notices a little crinkle in the customer’s eyes, but when he tries to look he’s turned away, and once again the cold air of an early January morning envelops Sanghyuk as he walks out the door.

He can’t put his finger on it, but something about that customer has made Sanghyuk just a little happier for today. And, more importantly, a lot less sleepy.

***

By the time of his next shift two days later, Sanghyuk wonders if the particular customer has been there the day he wasn’t working. He tries to ask Hakyeon about it who seems a little confused, but he doesn’t get anything — apart from a very bemused look from both Jaehwan and Hakyeon when he huffs and turns around to the counter.

“Is he your crush?” comes through the little window to the kitchen, and Sanghyuk’s ears color just slightly at the curiosity in Jaehwan’s voice. He rolls his eyes before turning back around to give him a look, one that makes Hakyeon choke on his coffee with his snickering.

“No, he just had an unusual order the last time, so I was curious,” he defends, something he knows isn’t particularly smart to do — especially with someone like Jaehwan.

“Unusual, ey? Sounds like you’ve got an eye on him to me. Are you sure that it was his order that was unusual and not just his face?”

Sanghyuk tries not to groan, and thankfully a customer comes up two seconds later that allows him to bring his attention to his work instead of Jaehwan.

“Sounds to me like he’s found someone interesting,” he hears Jaehwan lowly talking to Hakyeon behind his back, and Sanghyuk tries hard to keep his smile intact as he processes the customer’s order. “What do you think?”

There’s a small pause on Hakyeon’s side before he answer. “He needs some fun. Interesting sounds pretty good.”

Sanghyuk turns around and gives them both a look. “One Cafe Mocha and one Americano please,” he tells Hakyeon with a barely subsiding growl, “and another tray of ‘mind your own goddamn business’.”

Hakyeon raises one eyebrow as Sanghyuk shuts the window, and Jaehwan looks at him with the biggest grin on his face.

“Looks like it’s hit him pretty bad, huh?” he chuckles, “and he doesn’t even know if the guy is a regular or not.”

Hakyeon nods, turning around to prepare the customer’s coffees. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

***

The next thursday, Sanghyuk’s on the morning shift again. He doesn’t know if it’s fate or a very mean trick of it, but he’s slept even less than the last time, truth be told. Nothing can wake him up, not the steaming pot of coffee Hakyeon puts down in front of his nose nor Jaehwan’s deliciously smelling croissant, which Sanghyuk notices he’s been trying to shape like a wildly inconspicuous heart. He take a bite of it, mostly to make it look less like what it’s supposed to be — and tries sending a glare towards Jaehwan that turns out a lot less threatening as it’s cut off by a yawn.

“Why do I have to come here this early, I never do anything,” Sanghyuk mumbles as he tries to sweep the floor with moving as little as possible it doesn’t go unnoticed by Hakyeon, who’s taking the mop out of his hands in the blink of an eye.

“Because you signed up for it, remember? We asked you which shifts you’d prefer, you could’ve chosen the afternoon shift too.” His voice isn’t reproachful, rather amused; Sanghyuk wonders if Hakyeon is ever anything but amused. Maybe, but maybe Sanghyuk is also far too air headed to notice in the first place.

“Blasphemy. Doesn’t sound like me at a—a—“ another big yawn escapes him mid-sentence, and he doesn’t even have time to cover his mouth with his hands. Hakyeon sends him a look, and that’s when Sanghyuk notices he’s — still — amused.

“If you aren’t able to sweep the floors, go bring in the stacks of flour and milk from the delivery truck outside,” Hakyeon says as he shushes Sanghyuk out the back door with little taps on his butt, something that makes Sanghyuk just a little less sleepy. “Don’t drop anything!”

Sanghyuk doesn’t even know how he makes it through the morning. When he looks at the clock hanging behind him, he notices it’s already almost twelve. Sure enough business picks up during lunch time, and it wakes him enough to be able to handle it all without tripping over things or spilling the coffee. He feels almost awake, and it’s when his mind is a little less foggy that he remembers the customer from last week, and he can’t help the curiosity that kicks in.

He keeps his eyes open, looking everyone he serves in the eye in an attempt to see if he might be coming again; a hope that starts failing as another hour passes, and the hands of the clock above him start ticking further and further towards the end of his shift.

At twenty to two the door opens with a jingle, the flow of customers having died down some minutes ago. Sanghyuk doesn’t really bother looking up, the cool flow of the air outside making him shiver as per usual — he should really think about getting a cardigan or something to put on during the winter, even inside.

It’s only when the customer comes to a stop in front of the counter that Sanghyuk looks up, and he’s immediately taken aback by the familiar scarf swung around his face and the eyes, that Sanghyuk only now fully realizes are quite intense. His heart is thumping in his chest from the sudden realization, and it makes his fingers just a little more jittery than they usually are as he tries to bring out a smile.

“How may I help you today?” he asks, and he can hear the slight tremor in his voice — he desperately hopes that the customer doesn’t.

“I’ll have two croissants and—“

“— and two pear tartelettes? For take out, right?” Sanghyuk says quickly, and a weird feeling of pride settles into his stomach as the customer looks at him a little surprised, eyes widened as he nods.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, watching Sanghyuk continuously as he packs his pastries; it makes Sanghyuk a little self-conscious, but he tries to shake it off.

“Here you go!” he says with another smile as he hands the man his food, and receives yet again the exact counted number of coins. “Have a good day!”

He gets a nod in response, the lingering of one last glance; and then he’s gone again, the cold air rushing through the room with the swing of the door, and Sanghyuk wonders how stupid he must be to contemplate about love at first sight.

***

When he’s become used to looking forward to thursday morning shifts, he doesn’t know. It might have happened some time between Jaehwan and Hakyeon’s pointed glances and the fluttering of his heart after another thursday encounter with the “mysterious customer” as Hakyeon and Jaehwan like to call him. Mostly it’s because, after four weeks, Sanghyuk still hasn’t been able to fully see his face, always hidden behind the dark scarf slung around his neck.

“Maybe he’s hiding a crooked nose,” Jaehwan offers with little snickers as he kneads the dough. Hakyeon’s eyebrows lift in amusement, and Sanghyuk just painstakingly rolls his eyes.

“Really, hyung? That’s lame.”

“Or maybe he has really bad acne on his lower face,” Hakyeon thinks aloud, giving Sanghyuk a pitying look. “Maybe he’s actually a girl.”

Sanghyuk gives him an exasperated look, but the thought still nestles itself into his brain. The customer’s voice was pretty high, maybe…? Sanghyuk shakes his head.

“You two need to rethink your priorities,” Sanghyuk says dryly before he walks back out into the cafe with a tray full of hot, deliciously smelling apple pies.

“We have priorities, it just so happens that your love life is pretty high up on the list,” Jaehwan says with a wide grin, and there’s a smile just as wide on Hakyeon’s lips, too.

Sanghyuk pretends he doesn’t hear them, instead focusing his attention on cleaning the counter.

When thursday rolls around again, he’s giddy. It’s weird, because usually Sanghyuk is barely able to walk straight in the mornings, barely able to put his mug of coffee up to his lips. And here he is, taking the broom out of Hakyeon’s hand to do the mopping himself, helping Jaehwan carrying the stacks of flower and milk into the kitchen with ease — he’s even a little sullen when there’s nothing left to do for them but to open the shop in thirty minutes. Jaehwan only gives him a meaningful look, but Sanghyuk doesn’t care.

“Sanghyukie, can you help me with this?” Comes Hakyeon’s call from the front of the bakery, and when Sanghyuk rounds up through the back door to the front, he sees the other struggling with the lock. It’s not that cold in the mornings anymore, slowly inching up to march, and Sanghyuk doesn’t bother to put on his jacket, simply pulling his nose into his scarf.

“What’s the matter, hyung?” Sanghyuk asks as he walks closer, eyeing the lock and the keys with a wary eye.

“It’s stuck, I can’t seem to be able to move it,” Hakyeon sighs, glancing at his watch. “It’s two minutes before opening time, too. We need to get this working.”

Sanghyuk takes the keys from Hakyeon’s hands gently before trying to move them. It’s hard, even for him, to make them budge at all. He shakes his head, wriggling his fingers to ease the pressure on them from the force put into the hold.

“Did something happen with the keys?” he asks Hakyeon, who’s worrying at his bottom lips, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“I— I don’t think so. Unless Jaehwan…” Hakyeon starts, and suddenly his face contorts a little in disapproval. “He came home a little tipsy last night being out with friends, and he took a while at the door. Maybe he tried to force the wrong key into the lock…”

Sanghyuk presses his lips together, trying to open the lock again, with more force this time — but still no success.

“I guess we should call the locksmith,” he mutters and he can see Hakyeon pressing his lips into a thin line before letting out a deep sigh.

“I guess so.” he says and turns around, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Sanghyuk sees him dial a number, but before he can press the call button, there’s a soft voice speaking behind their backs.

“Is everything okay?”

Sanghyuk turns around; he knows the sound of the voice, and he notices the glance Hakyeon sends in his direction, causing his cheeks to tint slightly pink. It’s the fresh air, he tells himself, but there’s warmth spreading through his body at the sight of the man before them.

His scarf is draped around his neck as usual, but his hair is a little more disheveled than it was the last few times. It’s cute, and Sanghyuk notices the pink biting at the man’s cheeks from the walk in the morning air, still crisp and cool enough to tint skin.

“Our lock seems broken,” Hakyeon says swiftly, eyeing the man up and down with a little smile, “I don’t suppose you know how to fix this, do you?”

The customer shakes his head, much to Sanghyuk’s disappointment, but then there’s a hand extended towards Sanghyuk. He doesn’t quite understand, looking at the hand in confusion before glancing back up at its owner, brows furrowing.

“Lend me the keys,” he says softly, that tone that makes Sanghyuk feel like he’s melting inside, and without another word he lets them drop into the long fingers waiting in front of him. Sanghyuk watches as the man inspects the key and the lock, his brows furrowing a little on concentration — he’s paying too much attention to the way the scarf lifts a little from his face, giving Sanghyuk the sight of soft features, and it causes him to blatantly stare without realizing.

“Hrrm-hrrm,” Hakyeon clears his throat, and it makes Sanghyuk snap his head up so quick it feels like he might have contorted a muscle. Hakyeon gives him a look that makes Sanghyuk blush, a full on blush and his face heating up a couple of hundred degrees; Sanghyuk feels silly and very, very foolish.

Sanghyuk is just about to stroll back inside, leave his beating heart and his embarrassment out here on the street so Jaehwan doesn’t see; but then he hears a little cheer and the click of the lock, loud despite the rushing by cars and city sounds.

“Oh my God,” Hakyeon mumbles with his eyes wide and lips open just a little in disbelief, “you’ve done it!” He approaches the door, checking the lock and the keys now dangling from it with a cheerful ‘cling-ling’.

The customer looks pleased but embarrassed, Sanghyuk notices when Hakyeon almost throws himself at him with string of thank you’s and a hug that even Sanghyuk finds a little overbearing; he clearly doesn’t quite know where to put his hands or what to think, sending Sanghyuk a slightly terrified glance.

“Okay, Hakyeon-hyung, this is enough,” Sanghyuk coughs then, much to the relief of their customer, pulling Hakyeon back and pushing him to open the door. “We need to open unless you want to make our customers wait.”

Hakyeon nods, the grin radiant on his lips as he opens the door and flips the ‘closed’ sign around. Sanghyuk follows, but not without a glance around to the man. He can see his full features now, soft and elegant in a way Sanghyuk isn’t sure he’s seen before, and he really tries not to stare. Their eyes meet for a moment, but Sanghyuk is fast to turn around and go inside, cheeks warm again.

“Jaehwanie!” Hakyeon calls, leaning on the counter with his fingers drumming on it excitedly. It doesn’t take long for Jaehwan to barge through the door to the kitchen, eyes curious.

“What took you so long?” he asks, and then his eyes fall on Sanghyuk who’s standing awkwardly on the side and the customer who’s fumbling with his fingers, unsure of where to look. His eyebrows raise in question, and he looks at Hakyeon expectantly.

“Well, the lock wouldn’t open, because apparently you ruined the key last night,” Hakyeon starts, giving Jaehwan a stern look to which the latter ducks his head a little, “but then, uh—“ Hakyeon looks at the customer in a silent question.

“Taekwoon,” the man mumbles softly, eyes barely picking up from the floor to glance at Jaehwan.

“—Taekwoon here, well, I don’t know what he did but he managed to open it.” Hakyeon finishes happily. He looks at Sanghyuk with a grin before he turns to Jaehwan again. “Are you done with the croissants yet?”

“Just finished them, they’re still warm.” Jaehwan replies with curiosity shining in his eyes and that shit eating grin on his face that’s directed straight at Sanghyuk. There’s a wriggle in his eyebrows and Sanghyuk really wishes they would just leave. Or that he could leave. Whichever one.

“Good. Please give Taekwoon a couple, as a thank you!” Taekwoon looks up at the mention of his name, opening his mouth in an attempt to protest. “No, really, and Sanghyuk can make you whichever coffee you want. You’ve saved us the trouble to call a locksmith, it’s the least we can do!” With a smile Hakyeon moves towards the kitchen, following after Jaehwan; it leaves Sanghyuk and Taekwoon alone in the front part of the bakery, awkward silence hanging in the air, none of them daring to look up.

“Uh,” Sanghyuk starts, because he’s still working and Taekwoon probably wants a coffee, “what shall I make you?” he asks as he walks behind the counter; he tries a little smile, despite feeling like his entire insides are playing trampoline, and the shy look Taekwoon gives him doesn’t really help his cause.

“Mocha Latte, please,” he says, and Sanghyuk tries hard not to think about how cute he sounds when he’s embarrassed. He really needs to get a grip.

Sanghyuk starts on the drink, consciously trying to turn himself as much away from Taekwoon in an attempt not to get distracted. It’s hard, though, when Taekwoon is looking at him work, taking a couple of steps closer to the counter look over his shoulders at the way Sanghyuk is handling the cups and pots.

“You seem really good at that,” Sanghyuk hears when he’s pouring the drink, hand jerking just a little so the leaf latte art he was just doing turns into something slightly closer to a heart. Shit.

“Oh. Uh,” he starts as he turns around to give Taekwoon his coffee, noticing how his eyes immediately wander to it and — did they widen a little at the sight of the very, very unlucky heart-leaf? Sanghyuk really hopes not. “My big sister is a barista, and I’ve had a couple of lessons from her. It’s fun.” he says with a soft shrug and Taekwoon only nods, long fingers taking his drink and bringing it up to his lips with a small smile and a glance at Sanghyuk’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Taekwoon says, and Sanghyuk is confused for just a moment; but then the door of the kitchen open with a little creak and he’s thankful that Hakyeon chooses right this moment to bring out a huge tray of warm croissants.

[miishine]

n/hyuk -- in the light

genre: fantasy/mutant au warnings: none words: 4,5k a/n: another fantasy au i wrote long ago that i never finished haha i have a lot of those...

sanghyuk has always wondered what he is. but life is distracting, until a man with the most hypnotizing grey eyes walks right into it.

Sanghyuk was eight when he first found out that he could breathe underwater. It was during one of his class’ outings to the swimming pool to teach the kids how to swim and dive. Sanghyuk, ever bright and confident, swore to his teacher that he could hold out the longest with a big toothy grin; and he did. His record was forty seconds when his teacher expectantly looked up from the micro chronometer, only to find that Sanghyuk was nowhere to be seen - at least not above water. After two minutes, a few nervous breakdowns from his teacher and muffled voices that reached his ears, a completely confused Sanghyuk was pulled out from the water by a life guard, eyes wide and innocent as he breathed on without fault. The trip was canceled right away, no matter how much Sanghyuk protested that he was fine, that he could’ve held out longer, only later realising the weird looks his classmates directed at him.

At thirteen, his life was a prepubescent hell. Not only did the rumours of Sanghyuk’s weird ability to hear and breathe underwater make rounds no matter where he went, growing up in a small village and all; sometimes, he could feel his skin prickle, itch, and he would wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, finding his skin glimmering faintly in the pale light of the moon. It took up to three weeks until he noticed the little, glittering scales spreading on his skin; they were a mix of grey and green, depending on the light, and Sanghyuk spent hours just staring at his reflection in the mirror, barricading the door to his room when his mother called his name.

When he turned sixteen, his music class teacher asked the students to come into the class room one by one, singing a line from ‘Romeo and Juliet’ the musical to assess their individual talents. Sanghyuk was giddy, because he always had liked singing - granted, he barely did it anywhere but at home, and in the confinement of his room deep in the night when he was sure nobody would listen, but it was still something dear to him, no matter what. When the teacher called his name, a little bewildered look on her face (she must have heard of Sanghyuk’s appearance, but it was always a different thing to see the little glowing scales in person), Sanghyuk almost ran to the class room door. His fingers were shaking with nerves, but he was excited. As the teacher asked him to start, he did, singing his heart out the way he never could in the hushed darkness of his room. Halfway through the song, Sanghyuk noticed that his teacher’s eyes were glazed, that he eyelids fluttered and her body swayed as if in trance; and soon, before he knew, she was asleep, falling forward to the ground, if Sanghyuk wasn’t in time to catch her. He called for the nurse and after a while his teacher woke up, dazzled and confused, only giving Sanghyuk a frightful look as he asked her how she felt. That day, Sanghyuk was banned from music class, as well as prohibited by both his school and his parents to ever sing again.

By the time he was eighteen, Sanghyuk had come to live with- whatever he was. He got used to the creeped out looks and hushed voices wherever he went, he was used to the way people would make sure not to touch him, or the teachers would only ask him to answer questions after they had explicitly ignored his hand coming up five times. He always did his homework, always stayed out of trouble, did anything to fit in. It hurt, the relief on his parents’ faces when he announced that he would leave for the city, go to college and find a job to get through; but they promised everything to help him and to always call if he needed anything, and that was all he needed to hear before he left.

--

“Hey, kid, bring me another one of these, will you?”

Sanghyuk looks at the man calling him over the counter of the bar, wiggling an empty glass of scotch between his thick fingers, and Sanghyuk groans on the inside. He likes his job, he tells himself as he refills the glass and plops in another ice ball, and he does - most times. He likes how the room is dim, he likes how everything is busy and hushed, but most of all, he really likes the stages.

Sanghyuk loves listening to the variety of music gigs coming through two times a week. There’s no set genre his boss sticks to, and it’s always a little bit alike to russian roulette each time the lights go out and the stage shines bright; but Sanghyuk relaxes in it, feeling like he’s floating behind the bar and through his shift as he lets the music fill him up.

Today, though, is wednesday, which means no live stage tonight. It’s the time when the venue turns into what it’s supposed to be - a high end club with the chairs and tables stacked away in the storage room, flickering lights and deafening music echoing from the speakers that have even Sanghyuk wince from time to time with the frequency of it all. Business is low, and Sanghyuk is bored as he watches the bodies moving on the dance floor, occasionally filling up a drink or two.

“Having fun?”

The words are whispered into his ear and Sanghyuk almost jumps at them, not having expected anyone being so close. His wide eyes soften, though, when they land on Hongbin’s dimples flashing at him, and he laughs, giving the other a little nudge.

“Now that you’re here, I just might,” he teases, and his heart swells a little at the sight of his coworker, and best friend.

Hongbin, Sanghyuk first thought, was weird. He met him during his first week of working at the club, introducing himself with a hushed voice and shuffling feet. He was even more surprised when Hongbin’s fingers came up to brush along the shimmering scales of his neck, eyes big and curious, and for some reason he didn’t shy away.

“They’re so pretty,” Hongbin had said that day, and Sanghyuk had blushed. it was the first time anyone had said anything of the sort about his condition, and Sanghyuk didn’t know how to react.

“Business is low tonight,” Hongbin states, eyes traveling over the room. Sanghyuk nods in silence as he follows Hongbin’s lead to eye the crowd; merely a few dozens of people bustling about. Sanghyuk’s eyes fall on a man in one of the corners, his figure tall and slander. He kind of stands out, Sanghyuk thinks; not as much because of his silver hair, flashing occasionally in the flickering stage lights, but more by the way he’s leaning against one of the speakers, still in a moving room as his eyes wander through the crowd. Sanghyuk feels a spark of something in his chest, and he can’t put his finger on it, and then suddenly the man’s eyes are on his, and Sanghyuk snaps his eyes down to the counter in reflex.

When he dares to look up again, the man is gone, his spot empty as Sanghyuk’s eyes start to flicker through the crowd, searching. There is no silver spot of hair, as much as Sanghyuk looks, and he wonders if he even saw it right. Hongbin nudges him in his side, brown eyes fixing him with a stunned expression.

“Are you alright? Looking for someone?” He asks with a little smirk tugging on the edges of his lips, and it’s enough to throw Sanghyuk off and pull him back into reality. His eyes still dart over the crowd once, fleetingly, and he shakes his head, a small smile spreading on his face.

“No, not really,” he answers, catching sight of a customer waiting to be served on the other side of counter.

There’s a strange pressure in pit of Sanghyuk’s stomach for the rest of the night, though, and as he moves along the bottles and fills glasses after glasses, the image of those eyes staring back into his flickers along the back of his mind, for one single reason.

They were grey, but when the lights of the dance floor hit the man’s face, they reflected it, like a cat’s.

--

Midterm week has always been Sanghyuk’s least favourite week of the year, if he doesn’t count, finals, christmas and the occasional remodelling of the bus lines (that always happen right when he actually needs to be on time for once). Mostly it’s because on those days, Sanghyuk is not allowed to go into work, instead being stuck in his little apartment trying to cram everything he can into his already fuming head. Last semester, Sanghyuk had begged his boss to let him work at least on the nights of the stages, but he had adamantly refused, saying that Sanghyuk ‘needs to do good on tests if he ever wants to get a real job’. Sanghyuk isn’t sure what he wants in the first place, but he knows that being locked up with books for a whole week isn’t it.

Sighing heavily, he buries his head into the pages of the thick volume laying in front of him on his little coffee table; Sanghyuk had never bothered to actually buy a desk, and it’s times like these that he tells himself that maybe he should. It’s late, the sun outside long since having sunken over the rooftops of the city, and Sanghyuk can hear his stomach growl.

He checks the fridge out of habit, but he knows there’s nothing inside other than the milk Hongbin had brought over the last time they had a movies night, and Sanghyuk doesn’t even want to open the damn thing, even if he weren’t lactose intolerant. God only knows if it might not explode with the time it had to simmer in the back of his fridge.

He figures it’s as good a time as any to get down to the 7/11 at the end of the street, checking the clock hanging on his wall as he sticks his head through one of his turtle necks. 11:42 pm the hands read, and he groans at the thought that he hasn’t left the place in a whole day. He snatches his keys out of the bowl that he keeps next to the door (which is full of silly keychains and colourful lighters, courtesy of Hongbin), and slips into his sneakers before checking himself in the mirror, making sure none of his scales shine out from under his clothes. At least they don’t cover his face and hands, and that’s something, Sanghyuk shrugs at his reflection.

His cheeks are hit with a fresh cold as he opens the front door of the little apartment building he’s lodged in, setting foot on the dim streets; it’s barely november, but the biting wind is swirling through the city and the clouds are constant and dark, only the dirty light of the few working street lamps illuminating the surroundings. Sanghyuk breathes in deeply, savouring the smell of fresh air in his lungs before he tugs his sleeves over his hands, skipping down along the street.

He greets the old man at the counter when he enters the little shop, the bright lights inside a stark contrast to the barely lit outside, and Sanghyuk has to blink for a second. It’s already routine, pondering through the little alleys of snacks and instant ramen, Sanghyuk quickly picking out his favourites and a carton of orange juice, laying it out on the counter with the old man looking up at him with disapproving eyes.

“You need to eat healthier,” he states, knowing Sanghyuk’s diet on a regular basis; Sanghyuk only grins wide, a chuckle passing his lips.

“And you, gramps, need to get yourself a chair back there - it can’t be good for you to stand all day, think of your back.”

The old man tsks him, and Sanghyuk laughs as he pays. He faintly wonders if the old man would be as friendly with him if he would be able to see the scales on Sanghyuk’s skin, but he pushes the thought away; there’s no point in bitter thoughts at this time of night.

He thanks the old cashier, making him promise to get a chair (‘or I will bring one down myself, gramps’), before heading back out onto the street with a little wave over his shoulder, taking a right to make it back to his apartment.

Sanghyuk takes his time, strolling slowly down the asphalt, taking in the night. Without him meaning to, his thoughts find their way back to the shining eyes looking back at him from the other side of the club; it’s become a constant nudge at the back of his head, something he can’t get out of his mind even when he wants to. There was something about those eyes, Sanghyuk thinks, his feet stopping in the middle of the street, contemplating. He’s thought about telling Hongbin, but something stops him every time he starts - maybe it’s the fact that Sanghyuk feels like he’s not compelled to talk about it; maybe it’s the way his heart starts beating in his chest when he does. He shakes his head, trying to ease the thoughts away, but they still linger, like they always do.

A sudden noise on his left startles him, and his head flashes to the side to find the source. The crescent moon is shining down on the alley, the lamp above having given up, but Sanghyuk doesn’t need any light to see, his eyes sharper than usual in the dark. There’s some movement behind one of the trash cans in the far back, and Sanghyuk stills, a sense of curiosity settling in his stomach. It’s weird, because Sanghyuk isn’t the type to care for anything sinister, even halloween leaves him bored at home (ending up eating all the sweets for the kids himself); but there’s something about this that has adrenaline pump through his veins.

He takes a tentative step forward, not sure what he’s doing in the first place, but he hears the noise again, and this time he thinks he sees shining eyes flicker over the edge of the pile of trash. His heart beats to his ears, and immediately the image of the club comes back to his mind; but he tells him it can’t be, this is stupid.

“Hello?” he tries calling out, feeling more silly than ever, calling into the dark; and as expected, there is no answer at all.

Something springs out from behind the trash cans suddenly, and Sanghyuk startles for a second before his eyes land on a cat, trotting towards him. He releases a breath he doesn’t even know he’s holding, a small chuckle flowing past his lips; he feels foolish, even more so as he looks at the cat, crouching down.

“You scared me, you little thing,” he laughs, extending one of his hands to pet the feline, “I almost thought…” he trails off, the image of the shining eyes still present in his mind. He shakes his head, grinning wider, running his finger along the dark grey fur behind the cat’s ears, marvelling at the soft touch. “Never mind,” he dismisses, before standing back up, head tilting towards the cat.

“You should go home, now,” he says to the animal, getting a cock of the head that makes him chuckle; he’s always liked cats, even though he’s got scratched quite a few times when he was a kid. “I need to study some more.” He waves to the cat, a small smile still on his lips as he turns around and starts down the street, willing the leftover adrenaline from his limbs.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels strangely compelled to look over his shoulder to check if the cat is still there; and when he does, he can see it crouching in the middle of the street with the moonlight hitting it’s now silver fur, shining eyes set on Sanghyuk’s.

Something clicks in the back of his mind, and Sanghyuk can’t say that he gets more studying done for the rest of night.

--

“Don’t you sometimes wonder?” Hongbin asks friday night in between mixing drinks and pocketing tips, “About what you are, I mean.”

Sanghyuk just shrugs, pouring the pint of beer with expertise before slipping it over the counter; they’ve been through this a couple of times, Hongbin always more curious than he was, and he can’t say that the question doesn’t bother him.

“Well, it’s not like I can just walk into a hospital and ask,” Sanghyuk replies, taking the next orders, “they would either throw me out or lock me up. I don’t like either of those possibilities.”

Hongbin contemplates what Sanghyuk said, clicking his tongue. “I guess so.” he admits, pouring some lime rum into the mixer, adding some syrup, “I think, just, I don’t know. It’s so cool, don’t you think? Fascinating.”

Sanghyuk simply scoffs, not sure what about him is fascinating at all; all that it led him to is contempt and fear no matter where he goes, as well as an incapability of singing out loud. That doesn’t really seem fascinating in his eyes.

“It is.”

It’s not Hongbin’s voice that answers to his scoffing, and Sanghyuk’s head snaps up at the words. His hands still in the middle of his ministrations, his eyes wide as they take in the lean body and silver hair of the man leaning against the bar’s counter, grey eyes fixed on his.

Sanghyuk just stares for the longest moment, unsure how to react; now that he sees the eyes from much closer, takes in everything much better, his words are knocked out of his mouth. Hongbin just looks at him weirdly, before turning and smiling at the customer, clearly unaware of the awkward tension around them.

“Would you like to order something?” He asks, eyes curiously moving over the silver hair, and Sanghyuk knows there’s going to be some gossip later on. The man smiles back, eyes never leaving Sanghyuk’s; he can feel his heart beating in his chest.

“You don’t happen to have some absinthe, by any chance?” The voice is low and smooth, alluring in a way Sanghyuk wouldn’t have thought possible. Hongbin’s eyes widen a little, opening his mouth to deny the request, but the young man simply flashes another one of his smiles; Sanghyuk thinks he can see sharp canines in the corners of his mouth as the grin grows wider, but then he blinks and everything is back to normal.

“I’m just kidding. I’ll have an apple martini, please.” He ads fluently, eyes trailing back over to Sanghyuk, a little smugness flickering over his expression. “I’ll wait,” he finishes, gesturing to the seat on the right end of the bar, where the light is scarce, and for some reason Sanghyuk finds himself nodding, as if sealing a promise.

With a reeling mind, he turns back to his order, trying to keep his head on his work; which turns out much harder than he would have thought. His eyes flicker over to the silver haired male constantly, both checking for his presence and trying to assess it, and the feeling of grey eyes settled on him the entire time is unsettling at best. It’s during these little glances that Sanghyuk notices things he wasn’t able to see before - like the way the man’s face was pretty and delicate, his eyes slanted in a way that was almost feline; how his fingers curled themselves elegantly around the stem of his glass, adorned with silver rings; the golden hue of his tanned skin under light of the bar, and the way his dark clothes fit him like they’ve been tailored on his body, looking more like designer brands than the simple shirt and pants Sanghyuk knows they are. It doesn’t help him to keep his focus, not when those deep eyes seem to have more mystery and secrets behind them than Sanghyuk wants to imagine, and it doesn’t take more than two hours until Sanghyuk announces that he’s going to take his break, moving to the right side of the bar with a curious glance from Hongbin.

“What do you want?” he almost whispers when he reaches the other, eyes scanning his face for any sign of threat. He isn’t used to be talked to, much less by strangers he’s never met, and there’s alarm spreading through his body. The man smiles, though to Sanghyuk it looks closer to a smug smirk; he can feel his heart flip a little, but he tries to ignore it. This really wasn’t the time.

“I don’t want anything,” the man answers, a playful glint in his eyes, and Sanghyuk can’t help but scoff.

“You seem like you know something,” he says defiantly, eyes trailing over the other’s appearance. “About me, I mean.” he ads, taking in the way the grey eyes flicker between his, deep and almost pulling him through.

Another smile dances on the man’s lips, this time small and secretive, and Sanghyuk thinks that he’s really had enough of all this mysterious attitude.

“Look,” Sanghyuk says, and this time his voice is hard, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do. But I’m not here for some smalltalk, I really have to work.” And with that Sanghyuk turns around, taking a step back behind the counter of the bar.

He doesn’t get far, though, as he feels long fingers wrap themselves around his wrist, pulling him back into the dim shadow on the other side of the counter; Sanghyuk hisses as he stumbles over his feet, turning around to look at the man with angry eyes. The silver haired male’s orbs are set of Sanghyuk’s wrist, though, where their skins are touching, and Sanghyuk can feel the material of his sleeve being moved up. He struggles to break free, tries to snatch his hand away, but the grip around his wrist is tight and unrelenting. Sanghyuk can see the glimmer of his scales under the dim light of the club, and his fingers start to shake, looking around to make sure that nobody else is looking. He can see the flash of recognition on the other’s face, and he wonders for a moment what is going on.

“Siren,” he hears the word come from the stranger’s lips in a whisper, his eyes traveling up Sanghyuk’s body before finally boring back into his. Sanghyuk feels exhausted, a sigh passing his lips, and he’s waiting for the disgust, for the fear and jolt of drawing his hand back; but it doesn’t come. Instead, the eyes looking back into his are alight and glimmering with wonder, and Sanghyuk has to look away under the intensity of it all.

Then his arm is dropped, and the man’s smile is back in place as Sanghyuk covers his skin with his sleeve again. He’s confused, doesn’t know how to react, and his whole body is shaking from taking it all in.

“When do you get off work?” The question is simple, but Sanghyuk can feel the weighing meaning in the words, and his heart starts beating in his chest again.

“3 am.” he answers flatly, biting his lips as he takes in the contemplating expression on the other’s face. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he is gravitating towards the man, his intrigued thoughts dizzying his mind with too much to handle all at once.

The man nods, giving him a small smile before turning from the counter and disappearing into the crowd, sending one last look back over his shoulder, eyes flashing in the light. Sanghyuk feels a heavy pressure washing over him, and he feels dizzy, putting one of his hands on the counter for support as he turns back towards Hongbin with a weak smile.

But the word resonating in his ears for the rest of his shift doesn’t leave him alone; it sounds vague, but he can feel the familiarity of it as it rolls from his tongue in silence.

Siren.

Maybe, just maybe, tonight might give him more than he thought it would in the first place.

--

When his shift ends, Sanghyuk is fast to go out the back door to get some fresh air. His mind is still swimming with possibilities, unsure of what to expect of what’s to come. The night air is cool, a low breeze gushing through the back alley; the moon shines, fuller this time, illuminating the walls and the streets in a silver colour.

Silver.

Sanghyuk doesn’t even need to remember the weird conversation he’s had just a couple of hours before; it’s still present in his mind as if it had been mere minutes, though his confusion has gotten thicker as time ticked by. Something about that man pulls him in, like there is a mutual understanding between them, and he wonders what it results from. A tiny thought flickers in the back of his mind, ‘maybe he’s like me’, but he shoos it away, not wanting to hope.

“There you are.”

Sanghyuk startles from his place leaning against the brick wall of the club, eyes immediately settling on the man before him. He didn’t even hear him approach, and that’s something somewhat unsettling considering how good his ears usually are. The male chuckles, deep and warm, and Sanghyuk feels something flip in his stomach.

“You’re easily scared, aren’t you?” he muses as his bright grey eyes look Sanghyuk up and down, trailing over his legs and up his chest. Sanghyuk feels oddly exposed, and he clears his throat in an attempt to regain composure. There’s something about that gaze that has Sanghyuk’s cheek blush and his heart drum in his chest, but he dismisses it; there are things far more important at hand.

“In the club you- you said-“ he stops, unsure of how to phrase it. He doesn’t know what the word implies, and his eyes flicker over the man’s grey ones, insecurity shining through. “You said I was… you said the word… ‘siren’.”

There’s a flash of amusement in those grey eyes as they look back into his own ones, and Sanghyuk wonders why. Something in the back of his mind tells him that it must seem weird that he doesn’t even know what he is; he feels retaliation at the thought - it’s not like he’s ever had someone to tell him, in the first place. The other must feel his discontentment, because there’s a warm smile spreading on his lips that has Sanghyuk feel slightly dizzy.

“I did.” His voice is soft now, and Sanghyuk wonders why. “But I’d rather not tell you here.” the other says, gesturing around the dark shadows of the back alley. It’s getting cold, even Sanghyuk can feel it, shivering in the pale light of the moon. He nods a little reluctantly, running one of his hands up his arm to warm himself, if only a little.

“Where, then?” Sanghyuk asks, both curious and weary, and there’s a little twinkle in those deep, grey eyes, a smug smile tugging on the stranger’s lips.

“Follow me.”

[miishine]

n/leo -- panacea

genre: fantasy/powers au warnings: none words: 2,5k a/n: it’s been in my drafts for over a year. i dont think i’ll ever finish this so why not post what I have...

the first time taekwoon feels like something is not entirely right about him is when he’s four.

One day when he is four, Taekwoon starts thinking that something about him could be weird. It’s a common Thursday at kindergarten, and he’s sitting in a corner playing with the little tractor toy he’s always liked best. Taekwoon isn’t really the type of kid to pay attention to what goes on around him while he plays, instead being completely immersed into his game, not caring if he’s the only one to play it.

He doesn’t notice Jaehwan eyeing the toy from the other side of the room, and he’s a little surprised when the other boy stands before him, eyes demanding; Taekwoon interrupts his game and looks up at him, confused.

“I want to play with that now,” Jaehwan says, pointing at the tractor in Taekwoon’s right hand; his voice is strong but low enough so their caretaker doesn’t hear, and Taekwoon’s eyes flicker over to him before they go back to Jaehwan, lips unmoving. He simply clutches the toy a little harder, the knuckles of his little fingers almost turning white, and his eyes cast down in an attempt to get around the confrontation.

“Give it to me,” Jaehwan says and grabs after the tractor; but Taekwoon is fast to pull it out of reach and behind his back in defiance. He’s shy, but he also dislikes being forced, and his dark eyes glimmer up at Jaehwan with annoyance.

“I’m playing with this,” he says softly, and he curses his voice for not being more firm; Jaehwan simply laughs at him, and Taekwoon’s cheeks grow pink with anger and embarrassment.

“Not anymore,” Jaehwan says with impatience brimming in his voice, and he makes to grab for Taekwoon’s arm wound behind his back.

Taekwoon feels Jaehwan’s hand on his wrist, and there’s a hot, brooding feeling of anger flashing through him at as he tries to move away. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, his vision seeming to turn red for the flash of a second; before he knows what’s happening, Jaehwan is crying, holding his hand that had just closed around Taekwoon’s skin.

Everything is a blur after that, the reprimanding of the caretaker barely audible to his ears as he takes in the way Jaehwan’s palm looks bright red and burned, little blisters forming here and there on his skin. It’s no use telling everyone that he didn’t do it, that he doesn’t know what just happened; not when Jaehwan’s pointing at him, holding up his hurting hand for everyone to see.

“He didn’t do it!”

Taekwoon turns around at the voice, and Jaehwan stops his crying for a moment to look at Hakyeon standing next to them with his eyes honest and his hands fists on his sides. Taekwoon’s eyes widen a little, surprised by the defence, and he takes in Hakyeon’s glimmering eyes as he stands before him in a protective manner.

“He didn’t touch Jaehwan. Jaehwan tried to take the toy from him.” Hakyeon says, calmly but with a sincerity that has Taekwoon speechless. Jaehwan tries to protest, holding his burnt hand up a few inches in front of Hakyeon’s face as proof, but Hakyeon stays adamant.

“He didn’t do anything.”

Taekwoon is both grateful and embarrassed at the defence, and he lets his head hang, eyes fixed on the floor. He knows Hakyeon is right — he didn’t do anything, nothing at all. Yet Jaehwan’s hand tells another story, one that he can’t explain even if asked, because he doesn’t understand it; Jaehwan was fine the second before.

Taekwoon doesn’t get the chance to thank Hakyeon as he’s taken to the owner of the kindergarten to call in his parents; but when he looks over his shoulder as he trots after their caretaker, Hakyeon gives him a small, encouraging smile, and Taekwoon can’t help but feel a little better about everything.

When he gets home after his parents come to get him, he’s quiet and sullen again, mulling over the happenings of the day that he doesn’t understand. It scares him, more than he’d say, and once he’s up inside his room he looks at the skin on his hands with care, trying to find any explanation that seems likely enough. He doesn’t, though, even after scanning his hands and arms over and over, and he isn’t sure if it was all just some weird trick.

The only thing out of the ordinary he is feeling is the lingering warmth tingling through his veins, prickling under his skin, and he is quite sure that he didn’t feel that before that day.

—

From the next day on, Hakyeon sticks to Taekwoon like glue. He follows him wherever Taekwoon goes, sitting next to him at lunch and during art time, going as far as to wait for him in front of the bathroom only to make sure he’s washing his hands right after he’s done. Taekwoon is silently confused, unsure what to make of the sudden attention he isn’t entirely used to getting from another kid. At first he thinks it’s all a prank, something to get him to reveal what really happened the day before with Jaehwan; but Hakyeon doesn’t pry, and he doesn’t look at him weirdly, either.

“Jaehwan isn’t really mean, he just likes a prank from time to time,” is the only thing Taekwoon hears Hakyeon say on the matter, and it calms down the unspoken worries in Taekwoon’s mind a little bit.

He simply nods, taking in Hakyeon’s presence quietly as Hakyeon chats on about this and that relentlessly; Taekwoon thinks it a little distracting from time to time, but he keeps silent, not wanting to drive him away. Hakyeon doesn’t seem to mind — on the contrary, sometimes the chatter stops, and Taekwoon sees him observing him with a little smile and shining eyes; then Taekwoon feels self-conscious, and drops his gaze for the rest of the hour, which makes Hakyeon laugh softly.

“I’ll see you on Monday?” Hakyeon asks with a bright smile when it’s time to go home, his mother waiting patiently at the door for Hakyeon to end his conversation. Taekwoon feels his heart jump; he didn’t think that Hakyeon’s interest would stay with him longer than the day in the first place.

He nods shyly, eyes cast down, but when he ventures to look up again, Hakyeon’s smile is even wider. He chimes a ‘goodbye’ before he turns around to run to his mother, but he waves back again at Taekwoon as he leaves through the door.

Taekwoon doesn’t wave back, rooted on the spot and watching the door with a little warm churn in his stomach until his parents arrive to take him home. When he sits on the side of his bed, thinking about the way Hakyeon kept with him all day, there’s a small smile tugging at his lips that even the incident with Jaehwan can’t bug away.

And Taekwoon thinks that maybe, finally, he’s found a friend.

—

The first time Hakyeon invites Taekwoon to his house is a couple of months later, when Taekwoon has started to become used to Hakyeon being everywhere he goes. The change is subtle at first, only noticeable in the way Taekwoon doesn’t look down anymore whenever Hakyeon gives him too much attention, but instead holds his gaze; or in the way he would sometimes reply, soft and low. The first time he did, Hakyeon was talking about how he liked sunny weather better than rain because you could go outside and build things in the sand box; Taekwoon smiled a little, barely a notion on the edge of his lips, and replied that he didn’t mind either, both having good and bad sides. Hakyeon’s eyes gleamed with surprise, but soon a smile was widening on his lips. Since then, weeks passed, and slowly Taekwoon was becoming less shy around Hakyeon.

Most of the time, Hakyeon doesn’t really wait to hear Taekwoon’s answer, though, instinctively knowing what the other is going to say.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow afternoon?” Hakyeon asks Taekwoon as they’re drawing a zoo together on one big sheet of paper. Taekwoon looks up in surprise, opening his mouth before closing it again quietly. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, not at all; he’s never been at a friend’s house before, and the idea both excites and scares him a little.

Hakyeon shoots him a glance before smiling, nodding to himself in thought as he talks out loud.

“Good! I’ll tell daddy that tomorrow he’s picking us both up. You should tell your parents, too, so they know where you are!”

Taekwoon nods in silence, unsure how to react, but his stomach is flipping with excitement; Hakyeon notices the little smile illuminating Taekwoon’s face, and he shoots him a big grin.

“It’ll be really fun!”

Taekwoon nods again, eyes glistening with happiness as he turns back to drawing the mane of the lion in its cage, hoping on the inside that his parents wouldn’t oppose.

His parents don’t see any problems with it, rather delighted that Taekwoon has found a friend; during the evening, they keep asking him things about Hakyeon that Taekwoon only reluctantly answers. He doesn’t really know what to say; it’s not that he doesn’t know enough about Hakyeon with the way the other always talks about everything. It’s rather that Taekwoon suddenly feels defiant, like he’s trying to protect something precious from the curious glances of others. It’s still wondrous for him, the new friendship with Hakyeon, and he feels like he wants to keep it to himself.

Hakyeon’s dad greets him warmly when he picks them up the next day; he’s tall, almost as tall as Taekwoon’s dad. His smile is warm and gentle, and Taekwoon knows instantly who Hakyeon has his soft smile from. Taekwoon doesn’t reply, only attempts a shy little smile as a greeting, and he’s relieved to see that Hakyeon’s dad doesn’t seem to mind; on the contrary, he ruffles Taekwoon’s hair in a friendly manner, and Hakyeon beams at Taekwoon as he trots after him over to their car.

On the ride to Hakyeon’s house, Taekwoon keeps his gaze locked out of the window, eyes lingering on street names and trying to focus on the number of turns. When Hakyeon asks him why he keeps looking outside, Taekwoon answers softly that he wants to know if they live close together; the smile that spreads over Hakyeon’s lips at his words has him fall silent again, slightly embarrassed.

Hakyeon’s house is nice; it looks big to Taekwoon, but the windows are bright and welcoming, and he notices how little ornaments are placed here and there along the pathway. He saw a patchwork wood elephant, a couple of iron sculptures here and there in between the plants.

“I’ve made that one myself!” Hakyeon exclaims as they pass the elephant, and Taekwoon looks at him with his eyebrows drawn up in disbelief.

“Well, my dad helped me,” he admits, but the proud smile doesn’t vanish from his lips. Taekwoon chuckles under his breath, eyes lingering on the little wooden animal. He remembers that one time Hakyeon had built quite the castle at the day care with three boxes of lego, and he thinks that Hakyeon seems to have a talent for these kinds of things. He follows Hakyeon and his dad up the stairs and into the house, eyes wide and taking in everything he sets them on.

The entrance is nice, simple but everything looks cozy to Taekwoon; the interior is bright and warm, and he thinks it fits Hakyeon quite well. Just when Taekwoon is slipping out of his shoes, Hakyeon’s mother comes around the corner to greet her son and his friend, and Taekwoon immediately knows why Hakyeon talks so much.

“Oh, welcome home Hakyeonnie! Is this your friend? He looks so cute! Hi, Taekwoonie!” she says with a warm smile, and for some reason Taekwoon instantly feels comfortable in her presence.

“Your sister is out, but I am sure you’ll have lots of fun even without her, right?” she smiles at Hakyeon, who answers that he wants to show Taekwoon his room anyway. Hakyeon then turns to Taekwoon with curious eyes.

“Do you have siblings?” he asks. Taekwoon is a little distracted by the new environment to answer right away; Hakyeon simply takes him by the wrist, pulling him up the stairs to show him his room.

Taekwoon follows Hakyeon into his room in silence, curiosity filling his veins. He wonders what kind of room someone like Hakyeon has, and when he walks through the door that has Hakyeon’s name spelled with letters of different colours over it, he is somewhat surprised at the sight.

Hakyeon’s room is simple, very well organised and tidy; Taekwoon wonders how Hakyeon manages to leave no stray toy on the floor, or bunched up somewhere in a corner. He marvels at the shelves packed with books and toys, all neatly arranged, trails his eyes over the perfectly made bed. Taekwon silently thinks that maybe Hakyeon’s parents clean up for him, and a short tinge of envy gnaws at his stomach. But then he thinks that it’s also a little bit boring, all tidy and clean, and he doesn’t dare touch anything. Then he remembers Hakyeon’s questions.

“I have two older sisters,” Taekwoon mumbles as he looks at Hakyeon turning around to gauge Taekwoon’s reaction. Hakyeon smiles at the information, and there’s a feeling of connection settling in Taekwoon’s stomach as he thinks that Hakyeon has a bigger sister, too. It makes Taekwoon feel even more comfortable around him, and he notices that he doesn’t find it hard to trust Hakyeon.

“Great!” Hakyeon says, and there’s curiosity flashing through his eyes, “how are they?”

Taekwoon shrugs a little, unsure of what to say; his sisters are normal, nice but liked babying him a lot, but then again, don’t big siblings always do that? Instead Taekwoon’s eyes wander back around Hakyeon’s room.

“Normal, I guess. Your room is… clean.” Taekwoon says softly, eyes landing back on Hakyeon. The latter looks around, laughing a little.

“I guess. I usually clean up everything just a little, but mommy always puts everything back where it was.”

So I was right, Taekwoon thinks as he eyes the shelves, and for some reason he suddenly feels much better. He walks over to put his bag on Hakyeon’s bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

“What do you want to play?” Hakyeon asks then, and Taekwoon’s eyes sparkle as Hakyeon opens one of the boxes in the right corner of the room, full with legos and racing cars.

Taekwoon doesn’t see the time fly as he assembles castles and towers with Hakyeon on the floor of his room, completely forgets everything around them as they play; when there’s a knock on the door and Hakyeon’s mother comes in to signal that it’s time for Taekwoon to go home, he feels his stomach sink. Sure enough, when he comes down the stairs, his own mother is waiting by the door with a smile, and he turns around to Hakyeon, lips into a pout. He feels just a little better that Hakyeon seems as reluctant to let him go as Taekwoon is to leave. Taekwoon’s eyes don’t turn away from looking back at Hakyeon and his parents as he leaves with his mother, only casting his gaze down long after they’ve driven out onto the street.