NERVOUSNESS PERVADED THE ATMOSPHERE like an airborne virus, infecting everything in its path, and it offended the cat, causing the fur on his nape to bristle in indignation as he watched from unblinking eyes of amber as Junsu continued to fidget in his presence— the bitter scent of aloofness clouding his senses, making it harder to ignore the looming threat of permanent separation, a presage to the utter destruction of what little composure he’d managed to maintain in the standoffish company of his bonded. Because this distance reminded Ki-Woong of a time in which he struggled desperately to reach Junsu’s side in his hour of need —and failed … dismally. And no matter how often he wished to turn back the hands of time, or at the very least bury his head in the sand and pretend the last couple of months of his life had been nothing more than a stress-induced nightmare, the fact of the matter was that he was stuck trying to win back the heart of a human who’d witnessed firsthand the horrors and dangers of being bonded to a tiguri. He would give anything —even his life —to change the past, to save the boy from such horrifying experiences.
B U T he couldn’t. He wasn’t powerful enough, and he never would be — which fucking rankled in its OWN right.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Ki-Woong asked, genuinely perplexed. He’d never lie about something so important. Junsu was the reason he’d taken it upon himself to set up house in Seoul—so, yeah. In a way, he was spellbound. “Yell at me, curse me, hit me— just don’t accuse me of lying. Because I’m not.” To think that his opinion of him could be so low — it hurt. “And don’t take my words as a joke either. Again —they’re not.” He might joke about a lot of things, but his feelings for Junsu were off limits, to everyone— including Junsu and especially himself.
“Doing what, exactly?” A nonchalant quirk of his eyebrow was proof enough that he knew exactly what his little human referred to. He just pretended otherwise. But then his smile —small in size and wistful by nature —froze at the other male’s admittance. So, even after all that, he didn’t hate him? That piece of information should have thrilled him, instilled him with hope.
But it did the complete opposite.
It sat like a stone in the pit of his stomach, a stagnant reminder that this trip had been made in vain —that it had, in fact, been nothing more than another useless endeavor to turn the tides in his favor.
“Sure, J,” Ki-Woong murmured, gently claiming the boy’s hand with his slightly larger one and pressing a soft, chaste kiss against his knuckles —before finally relinquishing his keys. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be around.” Watching … waiting for the moment of truth —waiting for Junsu to finally cave and let him back in. “If you ever need me … ” He coughed, then forced another smile for the sake of propriety, not wanting to give his bonded yet another reason to avoid him. “See you.” A terse nod— before he vacated the hallway, swift as the cat who was jonesing to escape into the night, desperate for the freedom to run as fast as his four legs could carry him.
HE wanted to take back the words almost as soon as he said them — wanted to brush off the awkwardness and the nervousness and the pain of distance like one might an old, antique desk in need of a good dusting. Because this was Ki-Woong, someone he’d known all of his life ... the closest thing to a brother he’d ever had. Brother? No, that wasn’t quite right. They’d been close, true enough, but he’d never treated the tiguri as a brother. Their relationship had been too ... complicated for that. And now it was nearly nonexistent — all because Junsu didn’t know how to fix the part of their bond that had eroded as a direct result of the Yeoju incident. He was hurting, his soul screaming for its other half. But he was selfish too, and his selfish heart was crying, wanting to reach out to the tiguri but afraid of seeing him lose his mind again, reduced to nothing more than an enraged, feral animal who reveled in the blood of its enemy. So apparently he was a hypocrite too, since it was that same enraged, feral animal that had protected him with everything it had, killing only for the sake of his well-being.
And what had he done? He’d spat on the gift of his protection by running from him. God, he was a horrible person.
〝 I-I’M SORRY, 〞 Junsu whispered, his soft voice echoing in the empty hallway as his fingers slowly closed around the keys, his knuckles whitening under the strain of a too-tight grip. I’m sorry for being weak. His throat constricted, and unshed tears stung his eyes. But he refused to shed them. Because this — their separation — was his fault, and he didn’t deserve to cry for a bond he himself had shattered. Blowing out a breath of weary resignation, he slipped the key into the dead bolt and turned it, then headed inside, hoping to put an end to this awful, emotionally draining day. See you ... Ki-Woong.
