“Everyone breaks.” Words tumble off by the tip of a sharp tongue as the ghost of a bitter smile paints itself across crimson lines – it’s a fact, and he happens to have the experience at first hand to back it up.
Laughter echoes from the back of stringed lungs once the latter’s words sink in, a palm automatically rising in order to conceal the sound by resting over his mouth, but it dies in a matter of seconds as irises seem to be consumed by something else. “Oh, no. No no no. Not a disease. It is actually fascinating, curious.” And then he steps forward, one by one until there is but a few a meter in between the two. Does he look like a weirdo eyeing the taller from head to toe? Yes, most definitely. But it comes with a purpose, a throughout analysis in search for an opening, a breach in which he may perform a marvelous act. It doesn’t really take long to spot it, to act while his very own mental health seems to be the one thing to fill the other’s mind.
“You know what? I might just be a maniac.” It is his cue as a pleasant smile adorns his features. Lithe fingers coil around the handle of a knife tucked within the side of his boot, the blade only earning a span of two seconds to reflect the moonlight above before mercilessly piercing through the other’s entrails by the right side of his hips. There is no particular reason for it, but the vampire twists it by the handle anyway. A palm presses against the other’s chest, nonchalantly pushing the figure to stumble backwards as his wrist remains in place, the sight of bloody metal held before his eyes. The breeze blows and he takes a moment to admire how the velvety and thick substance slowly runs down the object at hand … at least until it comes in contact to his own skin.
Because it fucking burns through his flesh.
It’s like acid – merciless, blazing acid. Layer by layer it seems to corrode every piece of skin tissue set in its way until an ugly open wound is left behind to tell the story, which consequently results on the blade left to rot on the floor as his arm sways back and forth in an attempt of riding himself of the corrosive liquid. The injury oozes a fair amount of his very own blood, and the exposed flesh showcases itself bright in shades of red and black on his wrist. Oh, let us not leave out the burst of agony coming from the back of his throat on the shape of a groan, edging a scream, but he bites that back with words instead. “What the fuck?!” It is all he can manage to blurt out amidst chaos, which happens to be just enough to dye hazel hues to a sangria shade.
It takes a few moments for Baekhyun to regain composure, to set his mind back in place instead of giving in to the tempting urge of pulling out the gun by the small of his back to shoot a bullet or five through the taller’s skull. But when he does get a grip of himself he is found moving at a speed ahead of what a normal creature may capture so slender fingers of a latter limb may coil to the male’s shirt collar, pulling at the fabric with inhuman strength as words spill through gritted pearly whites. “What is this bullshit?” By the side, enough to make it into the other’s field of view, he holds up the matter at hand in the shape of his arm decorated by a hole and pretty fluids.
There were many things in life that Jiwon wished so desperately that he could have a do over on. But right now had to be the one moment he wished he could do over so that it would have never happened. He wished that he had never ran into this --- this creature. All his life he did not believe in otherworldly creatures, not even God Himself, and yet now, right now he was completely convinced that Baekhyun was nothing but otherworldly. Either that or completely psychotic, but couldn’t that be classified as the same thing in this case?
Jiwon didn’t step away from him at first, not even when there was only a few meters between them, soon becoming less. If he was his younger self, he would have ran away. Ran as fast as he could, because that was what you do when you’re in danger. But he wasn’t his younger self. He could stand his ground and that was exactly what he planned to do, no matter how insane the male was. “You’re diseased and absolutely insane.” Not his best choice of words, but Jiwon could feel himself starting to panic the moment he saw the gleam of the knife from the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were---” He made the move to step back the knife was swung in his direction because he knew his warning went unheard, but it caught him. It caught him right by his hip and he was left gasping from the overwhelming pain that spread through his body. His hand moved to clutch the area right above the knife, too paralyzed by the pain as a hand at his chest pushed him back.
He nearly stumbled over, cursing under his breath as his hand moved down to clutch the open wound, his own blood stinging his own skin. Jiwon wasn’t sure what hurt most --- the actual wound or his blood itself? The pain combined left his head swimming and his free palm pressed hard against his temple, rubbing it hard as the palm over the wound added pressure. He stopped paying attention to Baekhyun at this point, because he’s more concerned of if the wound would heal itself or not. Would his body heal itself? How fatal was the wound?
The questions to himself go unanswered as he heard a voice piece through the space between them, and that was when the smell of burning flesh hits his nose. It smelt so fucking awful, enough to leave Jiwon gagging from it as he turned his head away. “Should have listened” was all the male managed to say before fingers curled around the collar of his shirt and jerked him closer, both of his hands reaching up to curl around Baekhyun’s wrist in an attempt to pry it off of him but his grip loosened the moment he saw the other’s arm held up, peering curiously at the hole burned straight through it. For a moment he could only watch the liquids that dripped from it, his own gaze dropping to the ground to see where they fell, quick to look back up at the other.
“It didn’t kill you.” It was more of an observation than a statement, finding himself looking at Baekhyun’s arm once more as his grip on his arm tightened once more in an attempt to pry his hand off of the fabric. “What are you, then?” His teeth gritted together harshly. “You should have been dead by now.”
