no, it’s mainly his back, burned by scalding hot water today, forced to withstand it as punishment for lacking in training. there’s that, and the fact that it shouldn’t hurt this much. it didn’t used to hurt this much, back when it was him and daeyong, when it was a hellish shower every time they screamed, because it would alert more enemies, they said. because you must remain strong.
jaeyong still believes his parents just want to make him stronger. he believes, that over the past months, he must’ve atrophied. he believes he needs this training too.
but everything hurts, even beyond the physical.
the other day, they took him to incheon, tied sandbags to his feet and threw him off a boat. it’s a recreation of an old exercise, one he used to perform with daeyong, teamwork for the pair destined to be hunting partners for the rest of their lives. he sunk, forced to undo the ropes and free himself, and when he hit the bottom, he had never felt more alone.
something in his soul hurts too, something unleashed with the help of love, something in him that won’t stop screaming, but he never knows why. he doesn’t know what it is, or what to do, but it hurts.
he knows, if he sees huangjun, that he’ll know something is wrong if he doesn’t play his cards right. it’s enough to almost make him return back to his own house for the night, but that would only cause even more suspicion, and unnecessary worry for huangjun.
he picks a time when huangjun is commonly asleep to arrive, hoping it gives him more time to settle into a routine of acting capable and perfectly fine. when he opens the from door to huangjun’s apartment, there is no one to meet him there, and even though jaeyong always wants to see huangjun, in this case, he’s relieved not to.
he makes a careful b-line to the bathroom to find the aloe there and apply as much as he can to his burning skin, but a figure emerges, and jaeyong jumps, still on edge, still a little anxious, still that undistinguishable feeling.
it’s seoyun, he realizes quickly, but even the tiny startle caused his shirt to rub against his skin, and jaeyong inhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut, both because of the pain and because seoyun likely already knows, even from this much, that something is wrong.
because as much as jaeyong will claim otherwise, seoyun knows him.
seoyun is always here now, helping to take care of huangjun, and jaeyong doesn’t know how to express his gratitude, or how he’ll repay him-- knows he likely won’t be able to, even if his pride would allow it. it’s not every time jaeyong looks at him, but sometimes, he wonders why-- why he’s in love now, and he wasn’t with seoyun. why it was all a game to him back then, why it changed this time, what’s different, and he wishes he could remember what it felt like to be with him. he wishes he could remember, so he could compare those feelings or lack-thereof to now and know-- really know --that he didn’t love him.
seoyun knows about his training too, even if jaeyong skimped on the details. still, he told him the truth to gain his trust. sometimes, honesty really is the best policy.
he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse than it was years ago, back probably bright red and irritated, maybe severely burned. he probably needs seoyun’s help, especially if he doesn’t want huangjun to know he’s hurt.
he simply sighs and opens his eyes again, and maybe, for just a moment, all of the pain is in them. he musters up strength, and it’s gone in a flash, replaced by a smile nearly perfected, so close to meeting his eyes. “hey seoyun,” but he doesn’t have a quip on hand this time. “move, i need to go to the bathroom.”
( NIGHT BY NIGHT, I LET YOU EAT ME ALIVE - - - - - seojae.txt
| general abuse tw |
january 1st, 2021
“i’m sorry,” he mutters through the haze, through shivers that still wrack his entire body. the world still seems a little fuzzy, head still feels full of cotton, and he still doesn’t know, in all of his confusion, that yes, the hypothermia is that bad; he is not fine, even though seoyun and huangjun keep telling him so.
he still doesn’t understand why huangjun wouldn’t let him sleep, why seoyun still says his name, albeit more harshly, when his eyelids are at their heaviest, inches away from drifting off to comforting darkness, closer to waking up in a world where he is no longer so weak.
“you’re just confused. it’s a symptom of the hypothermia,” seoyun tells him. you’re not sorry, is what he means. even now, jaeyong knows seoyun.
(even now, he doesn’t blame him for not believing him.)
“you can sleep now,” seoyun says, apparently finally convinced jaeyong won’t fall into a permanent coma as soon as he shuts his eyes, or maybe willing to let him die now. maybe he just doesn’t want to have to talk to him or baby this strange version of his ex boyfriend anymore.
regardless, jaeyong mumbles, “fucking finally,” eager to rest, and it takes mere seconds for him to do just that, passing out easily.
when he wakes up, seoyun sits in the chair at his bedside, eyes trained on him. in other circumstances, jaeyong might make some comment about him being fucking creepy watching him sleep, but instead, he sits up suddenly, too quickly. it makes his head spin. he holds his head in his hands, like that’ll stop it all. it takes too long for him to remember why seoyun is here-- why any of them ended up here.
then he remembers: the warehouse, rope wrapped around his entire body, tying him to a post. hours upon hours trying to free himself in the bone-chilling cold, fingers freezing, then numb, everything numb. huangjun’s voice outside the door, jaeyong, exhausted, instructing him on how to pick the lock, huangjun bursting in and cutting the ropes. jaeyong’s i’m fine, keep your jacket, it’s cold, jaeyong stumbling into him, chunks of memory missing.
he remembers something else: it was seoyun’s birthday.
“fuck!” he exclaims, a general outburst of frustration at the situation, the fact that he needed help, the fact that seoyun is here-- seoyun, who kissed a crying mess of a jaeyong earlier this month, seoyun who disappeared, unreachable until jaeyong appeared on his doorstep on christmas. he’s here now, and it was his birthday. guilt is still new for jaeyong, but he feels it, especially when seoyun moves to hold him steady. he urges him to drink water, and with a sigh, he does. after, his eyes settle on seoyun again.
“i’m sorry,” he says.
“for what? i’m pretty sure you didn’t tie yourself up in that warehouse.”
jaeyong laughs halfheartedly. he’s sorry for so much. he told huangjun about his and seoyun’s history-- about how it was all a game of jaeyong wanting to make him fall in love with him and succeeding in the end, their cycle of turbulence and chaos. huangjun asked him why, and jaeyong still doesn’t know the answer to that question. he is still learning how to discern his own thoughts and feelings, the latter of which he was trained to shut down for his entire life. his past motivations aren’t clear either. because i wanted to was the only answer he ever found. you should apologize to him, huangjun told him then. jaeyong said okay, but didn’t do it.
here seoyun still is next to him, even in all of his bitter words and brooding, still sparing him hands that heal.
maybe there’s something sad about it, too: all of the ways jaeyong used to know those hands that he doesn’t any longer.
he’s asked himself ever since november, when seoyun came to his and huangjun’s aid following halloween, what made huangjun different. he tried to remember. did he love seoyun and just not know? he still can’t remember, a nagging frustration under his skin. no, he must not have. how he feels with huangjun is inarguably different. with seoyun it was all for his own amusement, a project to complete, but seoyun was the one to pull the plug on them in the end. sometimes, he wonders, if seoyun hadn’t broken up with him, where they would be now-- if he would’ve kept going, if the catastrophe they were would’ve continued, if they’d still be together now.
if in time he could’ve learned to really love him.
it doesn’t haunt him too much. jaeyong still isn’t one to dwell or wallow. the past is the past, and there’s no changing it now.
maybe there is healing it, though.
“it was your birthday. and i always need your help. i know i don’t deserve it,” he says instead, because he told himself he wouldn’t apologize for his past manipulation unless he really meant it-- unless he was certain his apology wasn’t manipulation in itself. he thinks he would mean it. it’s still hard to say. it’s not the first time jaeyong’s pride has won the day.
“it’s not like i was doing anything else. i didn’t think you’d remember my birthday. and i kinda wish you didn’t need me so much,” seoyun replies, and jaeyong laughs, because it sounds like a joke and it’s only fair he pretends to find it funny, and because...it doesn’t seem like a joke seoyun would make; it is a little funny for that much alone.
silence stretches between them for a moment before jaeyong finally says it: “i’m sorry. for everything. for how i treated you back then…for not meaning any of it. huangjun told me to apologize to you a long time ago,” and jaeyong smiles again at the mention of him. “but i decided i wasn’t going to until i actually meant it. i guess now i do.”
jaeyong laughs when seoyun wordlessly checks his pulse and pupils too. it’s another instance of seoyun thinking he’s out of his mind, surely, and he confirms it when he says, “are you being serious right now?” and really, it’s more consideration than jaeyong expected. in the past, seoyun likely would’ve quickly dismissed this as bullshit without even a thought of entertaining it. maybe jaeyong really has changed, and his sincerity leaks through even now.
“you don’t have to believe me, but i’m sorry,” he repeats, and he means it. it’s seoyun’s to accept or not now.
“i’ll think about it. thank you.”
jaeyong laughs again. i’ll think about it. he doesn’t know why it’s so funny, but it is.
maybe it really is the hypothermia making him a little loopy.
(later, seoyun tells him not to go back to his family for the second time. jaeyong fights him on it more than he should, and seoyun surrenders with a simple don’t call me next time they hurt you. i’ve done everything i can. jaeyong agrees. if he dies during training, he wasn’t strong enough for a more respectable death; he doesn’t deserve one.)
2018
he doesn’t know seoyun well, but he knows he’s good at what he does, or at least good enough.
jaeyong doesn’t need a professional, really, he’s just bleeding more than he has bandages for in his backpack, and he has too much pride to call for help.
he knows where seoyun lives, though he’s never been inside his makeshift and certainly illegal practice himself. he rings the doorbell, then immediately clutches the bandage over his wound, on his arm near his shoulder-- vampire bite. he’s lucky he dodged enough for it to take a chunk out of his arm instead of his throat. he already feels the blood seeping through onto his hand.
the male that meets him at the door looks tired, and jaeyong still flashes a grin, cockier than it has any right to be considering the circumstances. “heard you might be able to keep me from bleeding out.”
seoyun nods and lets him in. “what is it?” seoyun asks.
“vampire bite,” jaeyong answers. “but you should see the other guy.” the joke is that the other guy is dead.
seoyun sits jaeyong down and pulls up a chair next to him, removing the bandage and inspecting the wound. the only indication from jaeyong that it hurts is a silent wince.
“you’ll need stitches,” seoyun informs him.
“yeah, i figured,” jaeyong replies, smile still touching his lips, laughter in his voice even where it shouldn’t be.
seoyun tells him to stay still, and jaeyong listens, but still manages to chatter on, seoyun humoring him just enough to satisfy, but just little enough for him to leave some curiosity. (do you go to university? yes. what are you studying? medicine. nice place, do you live here by yourself? yes.)
jaeyong won’t ask seoyun which of the stories he’s heard about him are true, because he has very carefully cultivated manners exactly when he needs to, and knows how to throw them out the window when he needs to as well. for now, a certain type of lackadaisical politeness seems fitting-- something respectful yet friendly.
“do you think i’ll still be able to play guitar with this?” jaeyong asks, the most concerned he’s been in their conversation, and yet it still sounds like a joke when it leaves his lips.
“you play?”
“hell yeah, i’m in a band, actually. devil’s asphalt, you may have heard of us?” he raises a hopeful eyebrow, and when seoyun confirms no, he does not know jaeyong’s band that is still incredibly fresh on the scene and unestablished, jaeyong feigns immense disappointment. “damn.”
he flashes another smile before long, though.
“playing guitar should be fine, just...don’t go overboard with it. do you do shows? if you have one within the next week i’d recommend against going. it might aggravate the injury.”
“weekend after next!” jaeyong proudly declares, that grin on his face once again, though it shifts into something a little more sly. “hey, actually, you should come. supervise. you know, make sure i don’t hurt myself again.”
seoyun looks skeptical for about two seconds before he agrees, and jaeyong might even catch a hint of a smile.
--
the first time, jaeyong steps off the stage, high from the rush of booming speakers, covered in sweat. one of his bandmates tosses him a towel, and he spots seoyun in the thinning crowd. their eyes meet, and jaeyong sees something there that’s familiar: attraction, if he’s not mistaken, and jaeyong wouldn’t be jaeyong if he ever thought he was mistaken about that. he flashes him a crooked smile, something ambiguous, and otherwise pretends he never saw it.
(so what did you think?
not bad.
not bad? not bad?! come to our next show too, maybe you’ll get a better opinion.)
the second time, he makes eyes at seoyun across the room with intention, and seoyun doesn’t shy away. it’s electric. jaeyong busies himself talking to other people, makes seoyun wait a little. when they’re finally face to face, seoyun says he needs to go, but he lingers, and with that same smile from before, jaeyong says, “oh come on, let me buy you a drink or something first.” he does, and they talk, and jaeyong decides seoyun just might be worth investing time into. he’s attractive and doesn’t seem too dull; there’s chemistry, too. they talk. physical attraction, check. emotional attachment: begin.
the third time, he makes out with him in the bathroom until he tells seoyun to take him home.
(after: “you sweat a lot. i didn’t want to have to do laundry tomorrow.”
“you should’ve thought about that before you brought me here. you should’ve known i would make you--”
“you made me take you home.”
“i did not make you, i cannot help the fact that i am so amazing and sexy--”
seoyun kisses him, and the hunger in it is more muted than before, but still there nonetheless.
“you talk so much,” seoyun mumbles.
jaeyong smiles that same sly smile. “better keep me quiet then,” and he does.
“hey seoyun, how’s your stamina?” jaeyong asks, after a while of nothing but kisses.
it turns out it’s pretty good.)
jaeyong stays the night, because it seems like seoyun needs it, and jaeyong is happy to play the part.
--
third time’s a charm. this time: jaeyong in seoyun’s bed, jaeyong staying the night, because if he’s serious about earning seoyun’s trust, it’s a necessity.
and he is. in their time together so far, jaeyong decided seoyun is fun, and lonely-- just barely overeager for companionship, and jaeyong likes to think he’s given him just enough to make him want more. ultimately, seoyun is an easy target. in time, he will worship him.
in the meantime, he lays in seoyun’s bed, early morning sunlight trickling through the blinds. jaeyong sits up, still half wrapped in blankets, and watches seoyun get dressed. “hey,” jaeyong starts, getting seoyun’s attention, and he smiles, something subdued, yet not lacking its typical playfulness, like he’s about to suggest some stupid adventure, and maybe in some ways he is. “do you wanna get coffee or something today?”
seoyun looks at him with some mild contemplation, but jaeyong thinks it’s mostly feigned, because seoyun half-smiles in his usual way, and agrees soon enough. jaeyong smiles back.
--
he asks him to be his boyfriend once he loses count, and seoyun starts looking at him like he’s the sun. jaeyong knows he’ll say yes before he even asks, but it’s another necessity. he wants all of seoyun’s attention-- all of his love --everything seoyun has to give. first, jaeyong must build the trust to make seoyun feel like jaeyong deserves it. he needs him to feel loved.
it’ll be fun: an experiment, a project deemed worthwhile.
seoyun does say yes, and then kisses him like he needs him, tender and desperate all at once, and when he pulls away, jaeyong smiles, though not for the reasons seoyun wants.
early december, 2020
he can barely move. the skin on his back screams when he does, but he moves nonetheless-- grins and bears it, as he always has.
they’re burns, the follow up to another day buried underground, phantom of his brother’s voice haunting him, crying when he’s supposed to be strong. these burns are justified, jaeyong knows. he deserves this punishment. there is no room or time for tears for the hunter he needs to be.
they aren’t that bad, really. there’s something about the pain that wakes him up and makes him better, anyway.
seoyun seems to think otherwise. he doesn’t know if he’s lucky to run into him when he gets back to huangjun’s place or not. he doesn’t have daeyong anymore, the other half of his soul, the other person that would put him back together, missing. he doesn’t want huangjun to know; he doesn’t want seoyun to know, even if he might’ve pieced the story of the scars on his back together himself.
but seoyun knows, and when he asks questions, jaeyong answers, because he feels like he’s choking. it’s all stuck in his throat, overflowing from his mouth, a crushing weight on his chest for the past month.
they put me in a box, then buried me. jaekyung told me a riddle over a walkie talkie and i had to answer it before they would dig me up. i miss daeyong.
“why don’t you just leave?” seoyun asks, after a little more fussing with his injury, and a little more silence.
if jaeyong’s emotions were less frayed, trauma less fresh, breathing coming a little easier, he might consider the question. he might give it time to stew in his mind, to settle into something actable, to spark change.
that isn’t the case, however. jaeyong is caged. he spent his entire life pushed to the brink, past his limits, through hell for his own betterment. he doesn’t know who he would be without the fire. someone lesser. not who he needs to be. he still isn’t who he needs to be, and it’s why he needs them-- why he needs the training, why he can’t leave.
“they’re my family, seoyun,” he says, equal parts defensive and defeated. he can’t leave, even if he wanted to (he doesn’t.)
he can’t lose anymore family. they are the closest thing he has to a heart, or at least they always were. he doesn’t need different. he doesn’t want different.
“they’re going to kill you,” seoyun counters, but it lacks the animosity jaeyong expects. maybe he can sense jaeyong’s fragility.
“they are not,” jaeyong argues, voice desperate. “they love me. it’s what’s best for me, and if it kills me, then i didn’t deserve a better death.”
he doesn’t want to lose them. he thinks of daeyong’s screams, and a life without song training, and the fear and agony, and yelling daeyong’s name until he couldn’t breathe, and the cramped space of a box underground, and daeyong pressing a cloth to his reddened back just like seoyun is now, and his throat tightens.
tears. they are still relatively unfamiliar, entirely unwelcome, but he recognizes the signs of them.
“it’s not what’s best for you, jaeyong, you’re just brainwashed,” seoyun replies, but jaeyong doesn’t want to hear it. he doesn’t want to be here. he breaks away from seoyun and the cloth, ignores the way his back burns anew, and quickly puts his shirt back on.
“jaeyong,” seoyun protests, and he stands up as jaeyong does, then catches him by the arm. jaeyong turns on him, and when he does, it’s with a face already streaked with tears.
“let me go,” jaeyong requests, trying to pull away. seoyun holds onto him tightly though, and jaeyong has never felt weaker than he does now. he is so tired. how can he be so tired of fighting and so desperate to fight at the same time?
he gives up; he cries, and seoyun kisses him.
jaeyong doesn’t wonder why. he is too far gone, lost in his own emotions. it’s like muscle memory, kissing seoyun, like some intrinsic part of him never forgot what it was like to be with him. jaeyong needs this, something, anything, so he kisses him back, at least for a moment, with more desperation than he has any right to.
it’s just for a moment though, before the memory of huangjun breaks through the noise, clearing his head just enough to usher in dread. he pulls away from the kiss first, and looks at seoyun with wide, panicked eyes.
“it’s okay, i know it didn’t mean anything,” seoyun tries to reassure him, but all jaeyong can think of is his boyfriend, of standing on ice with him and asking him to be not even a week ago. good boyfriends don’t kiss anyone else, do they? jaeyong has never cared about being a good boyfriend before.
it’s all overwhelming. he cries harder, wordlessly, because he doesn’t want to ruin the best thing in his life, because he doesn’t want to lose his family, or huangjun, or anything, and he is so confused and afraid.
seoyun simply holds onto his arms silently, uncomfortably, the closest they can get to a hug with jaeyong’s back injury, but jaeyong pulls away once again, out of seoyun’s grasp, and leaves without a word.
(later, he texts seoyun an i’m sorry. please don’t tell huangjun. please don’t tell him anything, he means-- not the kiss, not the training, not the injury. i’m sorry, for acting like such a mess, not for using him again, as always.
after, he finds out from huangjun that seoyun kissed him too, and that all of that dread was for nothing, broken up by laughter and honesty and love.)
2019
| tw: suicide |
jaeyong knows all of seoyun’s scars now, mapped out with his hands, memorized. he kisses them sometimes, like he loves him, like seoyun is precious and not something to use.
seoyun can likely say the same. he traces jaeyong’s too, and knows the stories of many-- more than jaeyong does of his, a strange case of transparency for the sake of building that trust. will he eventually run out of trust to build? has he already? when will enough be enough?
(seoyun knows about the scars on his back, too. training, he said back then. they were nothing to brag about, jaeyong’s least favorite because they were a sign of his shortcomings. they were a sign of every lashing and burning shower he ever took for his failures, and maybe seoyun could tell. he didn’t ask further, simply looked at him with a concerned frown, and jaeyong smiled as always. i’m okay, he insisted, and he kissed him, because it’s what they do when they don’t have the words-- when there’s something to say they won’t utter aloud. he didn’t want seoyun to know the real stories. he didn’t want to fall from his pedestal.)
“where did you get these?” jaeyong asks at last, voice gentle, an open invitation to keep this secret if he wants to. he thinks, if they were scars to be proud of, seoyun would’ve flaunted them too. maybe they would’ve made it some playful competition, or gotten in a real argument over it. (it wouldn’t be the first time.)
it’s a test. jaeyong is curious, but it’s about how much seoyun trusts him. it’s not about caring.
“i tried to kill myself,” seoyun admits, nothing but a whisper. it gives jaeyong pause-- several moments to gather his thoughts and form them into the optimal response. what would someone that loves him say? what would i say if i loved him?
it is about caring, just not how much jaeyong does. it is not an i’m happy you survived, even if maybe jaeyong’s life would be a little more boring without him. it’s not you’re so strong, because he can tell seoyun doesn’t need that kind of praise, and that it would sound more rehearsed coming from his lips than anything.
instead, he goes with what’s most in character. he holds their scarred arms side by side, jaeyong’s a near-devastating wolf bite, seoyun’s a result of a different kind of war. he smiles, just barely, and says, “it might actually be a better battle scar than mine.”
seoyun kisses him, because it’s what they do when they don’t have the words. jaeyong can tell it was the right answer even without them.
--
they are a hurricane; they are radioactive. all they do is destroy and poison, a toxic, one-sided calamity of a love. they fight and hook up, never really make up; the physical makes the anger fade, and so does jaeyong’s tender fingers running through seoyun’s hair, limbs tangled together even in the wake of their ever-continuing war. i love you, jaeyong murmurs so convincingly even though he doesn’t mean it, and seoyun stays.
until he doesn’t.
until one of the fights is the final straw, and seoyun says they’re over.
“you are not dumping me!” jaeyong insists, equal parts anger and disbelief laced into his words, because this wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was always play the game until he grew bored, monopolize seoyun’s love, then break him in the end, the final act and revelation something grand and entertaining in itself.
“yes, i am dumping you! we’re over!” seoyun counters.
“no you fucking aren’t!” jaeyong yells back. “you’re breaking up with me?” it’s unbelievable. who does seoyun think he is? does he really believe he deserves better than the love jaeyong pretended to give him? he played the part of a good boyfriend, he’s sure of it--
“do i really need to fucking spell it out for you jaeyong? yes, i am dumping you!”
he realizes then that he is not so robbed of his grand finale. he deflates, suddenly the eye of his previous storm. “it’s fine,” he decides, and the slightest smile inches across his face. “i never really loved you...i was getting tired of you too.” he has the audacity to laugh. “congratulations on beating me to the punch.”
it still infuriates him: this failure in his plan, this detour he wasn’t prepared for, seoyun having the power and nerve to make this decision for him at all.
seoyun goes pale, and turns to leave without a word.
“and fuck you, seoyun!” jaeyong yells after him, self-satisfied smile on his lips.
maybe it wasn’t so bad in the end.
(it still infuriates him long after the breakup, though. he broke up with me daeyong, can you believe it?)
--
every day, he wakes up in a world without daeyong, and a world without seoyun. he wakes up in a hospital bed, often to nothing but the dull glow of his heart monitor, and with a burn in his neck that never goes away until they pump him full of pain medicine that knocks him out to repeat the cycle.
everything is dull, really. he doesn’t mourn-- not his brother, not his relationship, but he feels empty, and he feels...alone. not loneliness, but like he is lacking a part of himself, like losing a limb. his brother is dead. we found remains, but we’re still looking to see if he might’ve survived. jaeyong never asked what the remains were. it never mattered. daeyong was gone, and no details would bring him back. they wouldn’t comfort him. jaeyong didn’t need comforting.
he moves on. he learns to live with the void.
he learns to talk around a neck injury, too, and when seoyun comes to see him, he’s in some strange limbo state of being able to talk but encouraged not to by the nurses. only talk while we’re working with you. it could exacerbate the injury if you talk too much. jaeyong has never been known to do a good job of staying quiet.
still, when seoyun comes to see him, he writes what are you, my new nurse? on his white board, and seoyun shakes his head.
“i heard about daeyong,” he says, and seoyun can’t meet his eyes. jaeyong would nod if the bandages around his neck and shoulder even properly allowed it, and if it wouldn’t hurt.
“i’m sorry,” seoyun adds. jaeyong has heard those words so many times. why? he writes on the board.
“losing someone like that...i know it sucks.”
jaeyong remembers the story of seoyun’s father, and his horrific passing. maybe daeyong’s isn’t so different. the screaming. god, the screaming. he blocks it out, and focuses on seoyun’s awkward figure, and he almost laughs.
i don’t need your sympathy, he writes. “we knew it was how we would go,” he says after, voice quiet, except it’s a lie. what they knew is that they would leave the world the same way they came into it. there was never a world without daeyong. jaeyong doesn’t know why it wasn’t him too, and why he is the twin that survived.
the questions don’t matter though. he is the twin that survived, and every day he wakes up in a world without daeyong. nothing will change it. there is no point in grief.
he can see the skepticism on seoyun’s face, and something else. confusion? fear? there’s something satisfying in it, regardless, and jaeyong smiles at him.
“well...i was just coming to make sure you were okay,” seoyun admits, and he rubs his hands on his pants. (seoyun is a better person than jaeyong will ever be. even in this moment, part of him knows it.)
you missed me, jaeyong writes, and he grins.
“bye, jaeyong.”
--
maybe he missed him, or maybe he didn’t; either way, seoyun lets jaeyong back into his bed as soon as he recovers.
in many ways, their pattern continues in everything but title. there is no love from seoyun anymore, but hatred, and jaeyong takes satisfaction in this too. so much intense emotion-- so much thought still spared for him even after their breakup, and seoyun proves time and time again that a part of him still wants him. even if it’s just for his body, jaeyong doesn’t mind. he might like it better this way, actually. there is new fire, and he doesn’t have to keep up a farce.
jaeyong is jaeyong, and seoyun sacrifices his budding relationship to him far too easily. jaeyong barely has to push-- barely has to tempt him. seoyun’s lingering desire is enough. jaeyong just shed a little light on what was already there.
they were always better at sleeping together than they were at being together. it doesn’t change, even after jaeyong dyes his hair blond, and even as one year rolls into the next.
december 25th, 2020
jaeyong knows seoyun is alone for christmas. seoyun is always alone; it’s why he was such an easy target, and why it was so easy to make him stay with him, back when they were together. the one christmas they spent together feels so long ago now, like another life, like a jaeyong in another universe.
in many ways, he is weaker now. in many ways, he misses that jaeyong; that, however, was a jaeyong without huangjun. he would never want to go back. instead, he needs to grow stronger in the life he has-- needs to find some way to weaponize his love if his parents won’t squelch it themselves. it is a heavy burden, but he has always been good at compartmentalizing, and what is christmas about if not love?
it’s love for huangjun that he wakes up next to in the morning, and for his family they eat breakfast and lunch with. it’s love for huangjun’s halmeoni that brings them to her resting place-- that makes jaeyong thank her spirit for taking care of huangjun, and swear that now, he’ll do the same in her absence. it’s love for his brother that makes him leave daeyong’s knife and the necklace that matches jaeyong’s own, forged from the canine teeth of the first alpha they killed, at his grave, knowing that he is aiding a werewolf.
it’s not quite love that brings him to seoyun’s door christmas evening. it’s gratitude, but maybe they’re not so different.
seoyun hasn’t spoken to he or huangjun since he kissed them earlier in the month. jaeyong texted him merry christmas, but he knows there’s no use in trying to make plans with him over the phone. the only way is to ring seoyun’s doorbell and wait outside, so it’s exactly what jaeyong does.
seoyun opens the door, and when he sees who waits for him, immediately shuts it again. jaeyong can’t help but laugh in disbelief. it doesn’t take long for him to pound on the door. “kang seoyun come back here!”
kang seoyun does not come back. jaeyong texts him i'm not leaving until you open this door and talk to me. don't make huangjun worry. he knows seoyun has a soft spot for his boyfriend; this tactic should be effective, and yet it’s not. jaeyong is both stubborn and patient, however, so he waits, knocking periodically, if only to let seoyun know that yes, he is still there, and no, he will not be leaving.
finally, after about ten minutes, seoyun opens the door. he looks sufficiently disheveled, still in his pajamas, hair a mess, otherwise looking like he just woke up despite it being past 5 pm. it doesn’t bother jaeyong. in fact, it’s a familiar picture. it comes with something akin to nostalgia.
“okay, what do you want? why are you here?" seoyun asks, typical irritation in his voice, paired with some confusion. “it’s christmas.”
“i’m here because it’s christmas,” jaeyong replies. “i have something for you.”
jaeyong won three rings in autumn of last year by sneaking into the vampire council’s anniversary gala, winning the largest of their raffles. one changes colors in the presence of supernatural creatures, another in the presence of danger, and the third depending on the ailment of the one wearing it. jaeyong gave huangjun the one sensing danger before leaving him behind on halloween. it did little to save him that night; in fact, that night was what brought seoyun to them, differently than jaeyong has known him in more than a year.
jaeyong never wore the ring that sensed ailment, not very keen on anyone else knowing his weaknesses. he wears it today, though, only to twist it off of his finger and hold it out to seoyun. it’s a shame for a relic so powerful to be hidden away; he thinks he finally found a good use for it.
“thank you for taking care of us,” jaeyong says, and it might be the greatest gratitude he’s ever had. “this ring changes colors based on the wellbeing of whoever’s wearing it. you take care of everyone so well; i thought you might need the reminder to take care of yourself too.” he means it all. it’s strange, but he might care about seoyun now. he wants him to be healthy. this is for no personal gain of jaeyong’s; he just owes seoyun a debt he doesn’t know that he’ll ever be able to repay.
this is a start.
seoyun simply stares at the ring for a long moment, then looks back at jaeyong. “are you sure?” he utters. “i didn’t get you anything for christmas.”
jaeyong laughs lightly. “yeah, i’m sure,” he confirms. “i owe you, really. no bullshit.”
seoyun takes it, still hesitant. he doesn’t put it on, but jaeyong didn’t expect as much.
“huangjun is cooking,” jaeyong begins. “he wants you to come over, so i’m asking out of obligation.” he lets the words hang in the air for a few moments before flashing a smile and laughing again, even if it’s a little awkward to be so sincere. “i’m kidding. i want you to too. i know you’re probably alone.”
jaeyong doesn’t want seoyun to be alone, but it’s different now. he doesn’t want to rule over him anymore; he doesn’t want him wrapped around his finger, or to be the center of his world.
he wants to be his friend.
january 27th, 2021
usually jaeyong doesn’t have trouble sleeping. sometimes the worst of the nightmares get to him, but laying in bed next to huangjun is typically comforting enough for him to drift off.
maybe this is insomnia by choice, because he hasn’t tried. he knows he’s not ready to fall asleep, and he doesn’t want to wake huangjun up by tossing and turning or concern him by staring blankly at the ceiling.
his boyfriend needs to rest. jaeyong does too, but he deserves to spend these hours awake as some sort of punishment for putting them here.
here: huangjun with a healing dislocated shoulder, jaeyong with new scars on his arm from a wolf. they are free. jaeyong never has to see his family again if he doesn’t want to (and maybe he is awake now because he does want to, and he can’t make peace with it-- can’t get rid of the burn of it in his stomach.)
he doesn’t know how to live a life without them. he doesn’t know what to do, waking up in a world without training inflicted upon him, all of it his own responsibility now, feeling like some kind of apostate. who is he without them? it is he and huangjun against the world now. (he always thought it would be he and daeyong, that he would never want to face it with anyone else, but times change, and he is only a song in title now. he has lost them all.)
he leans against one of seoyun’s kitchen counters, glass of water in his hand, staring through the backsplash on the other side of the room. he’s here per seoyun’s urging, for huangjun’s sake, as is usually the case these days. maybe being in someone else’s house contributes to his restlessness, but he understands it’s for the best, and it doesn’t matter where he is, really. the closest thing he has to home is huangjun now.
there is still seoyun, a supporting character that steps in and out of he and huangjun’s grand drama, their rivalry with the universe, a reliable ally that jaeyong doesn’t give enough credit. maybe that’s part of the reason why, after seoyun silently joins him in the kitchen, he says, “i’m sorry.”
it’s an apology for so many things once again. for burdening seoyun again well after he told him his parents would kill him and that he wouldn’t help him anymore, for leaving huangjun to the mercy of his family, a detail seoyun only learned today. the guilt of it eats him alive, these invisible scars on his boyfriend’s heart he might as well have inflicted himself.
it’s all his fault. he knows.
“i don’t want to hear that you’re sorry,” seoyun says brusquely, but there’s something else to it that jaeyong can’t pinpoint, and he’s too tired to try.
“then what do you want to hear?”
“i don’t know.”
“what, no ‘i want to hear you shutting up,’ or something like that?” jaeyong tries to joke. maybe he can make seoyun laugh, or relax, or snap-- anything.
“i don’t know.”
the tension in the air is thick, in some ways so characteristic of them, but in others so foreign. maybe they are on the precipice of another fight, or another instance of jaeyong crying in seoyun’s arms, or both, because that’s just them now, isn’t it? some presence in each other’s lives that shouldn’t be there, something awkward and unnatural but lingering nonetheless. jaeyong wonders what he is in seoyun’s life. maybe something in between a friend and a mistake.
jaeyong feels like a mistake in every life he knows today.
“it’ll be better now,” he swears, knowing seoyun is torn up because of him and huangjun, knowing seoyun must be angry at him for letting this happen, he is angry at himself. he can’t stop thinking about staring down a barrel of a gun at huangjun, and is so afraid of seeing that same fear in his eyes next time he looks at him. “they won’t hurt us anymore...so you won’t have to worry so much.”
hopefully this is the last time they’ll need seoyun’s help. maybe jaeyong will retire from hunting early and become some unmarried version of huangjun’s trophy husband, out of seoyun’s hair for good.
“i’ll do a better job of protecting him. and i won’t be so stupid. i promise.” jaeyong is determined.
in a way, it is a goodbye, or jaeyong hopes so. thank you is all that’s left to say, even if he said it before, but he hangs onto those words for now, and looks down when seoyun does. eventually, in the silence, he looks back up, and crosses the distance between them. he reaches for seoyun’s hand, the one with the enchanted ring that detects the wearer’s ailment, and he looks at it. he didn’t need to in order to know seoyun isn’t okay; he steals glances at it sometimes, quick and careful assessments of seoyun’s wellbeing, usually a dark and murky color that he doesn’t know how to fix.
“i would tell you to take care of yourself, but...i don’t think we really give you time for that, do we?” he jokes again, still exhausted, but with a tired smile that’s genuine nonetheless. seoyun’s wellbeing isn’t his responsibility, but still: “but…we want you to be okay. i know huangjun does too, but maybe i shouldn’t speak for him, i don’t know. i want you to be okay. how about that.”
“stop it,” seoyun counters, and he snatches his hand away. jaeyong lets go without protest, nothing but a small frown.
“i’m not going to be okay,” seoyun insists, and he really must be suffering to admit it to jaeyong of all people. he resists the urge to apologize again, because seoyun already said he didn’t want to hear it once, and he knows it won’t fix anything.
after another long moment of silence, he does argue, “you don’t know that.” he smiles softly, some drained variant of encouraging. “don’t give up on me.” part of jaeyong wants to touch him-- put a hand on his shoulder, something reassuring, but he knows better.
“why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” it’s distraught, and it makes jaeyong take a step back, retreating, so strange for him, but he is too tired to fight. he is too broken in his own right, still processing so much, still coming to terms with his new reality.
“because...” he begins, but he doesn’t know where that sentence leads. because we would’ve died without you. because we needed you. he realizes then that all he did in the end was use seoyun again. “i’m sorry.” (because it’s nice when you don’t hate me. because i missed you, maybe.)
“do you want me to stop calling? really?” he will if seoyun wants him to. he’ll find another medic; he’ll learn how to patch them up himself if he needs to. that was the goal anyway, right? bother seoyun less, need him less.
when seoyun turns and kisses him, it’s sudden and unexpected.
it’s familiar too, though. there’s something desperate in this kiss, heavy with words seoyun can’t say, or won’t say, or words he doesn’t have. it reminds him of the kiss that night, when jaeyong learned the true meaning behind the scars on seoyun’s arms, the way he kissed him like it was the only way he could breathe. that desperation, different than the desperation they know better-- the kind with wandering hands and lust they shouldn’t have had for each other.
it is familiar and different all at once, and it’s instinct that makes him kiss seoyun back. just for a moment, he holds onto him, tries to steady him through it, catches seoyun in this troubled leap he took, and then he remembers.
he remembers he is in love, even if it is a love to inevitably end in tragedy. he remembers huangjun’s face, that he is in love, and how bright his life is with him; he lights everything up.
jaeyong turns to stone, freezes up, but even when seoyun pulls away, jaeyong’s hands still rest on his shoulders. his eyebrows knit together in equal parts confusion and concern, because seoyun is crying.
“i don’t.. i’m sorry.. i don’t want you to go just.. with both of you.. i don’t know jaeyong, i’m sorry,” seoyun says.
“why did you do that?” jaeyong replies after several beats of silence, entirely lacking accusation, voice soft. sad, maybe, because he doesn’t quite understand, or maybe he does, and the question is still why. there is something tragic in this, too, and jaeyong thinks he just received the saddest kiss he ever has.
“i don’t hate you, and i like him, and i’m jealous of both of you at the same time… sorry, i’m sorry, forget it.”
he understands what the kiss was after seoyun says it. it comes closest to the way he kissed huangjun before leaving on the two hunts he wasn’t sure he would ever come back from, the i may never see you again but please know i love you kisses. that sort of desperation with a different undercurrent of despair, lacking any of the hope of getting to kiss the face you’re bidding goodbye again. it’s an i may never see you again and i know you don’t love me kiss, or maybe an i will never kiss you again but please know i love you kiss.
either way, it makes jaeyong feel sick. it’s not disgust, or even worry over his relationship with huangjun, but he is sick with sadness, and the question is still why. he inhales sharply and turns away, pressing a hand to his forehead, and wonders why he feels like crying too.
why? isn’t this what he wanted? wasn’t the goal always to make seoyun, huangjun, anyone he set eyes on fall in love with him? why does it hurt? he feels it in his chest.
maybe it’s because he’s different now, because he already has the love he needs, and now he just needs...something he can’t put a name to, something he is already grieving in this moment. it isn’t just seoyun, but maybe it’s their progress. maybe it’s because now, he is hurting him again, this time by so earnestly doing what he thought was right. it’s not fair.
“i’m sorry,” he apologizes once again, turning back to seoyun, agony on his face, and he is sorry for so much. for acting like this following his confession, for one, for lacking grace, for making it worse, for all the jealousy seoyun sat through, for still, once again, not loving him when he knows it’s what seoyun wants. sorry for not knowing it was what seoyun wanted, still, or again, for never being able to give seoyun what he needs or what he deserves.
i wanted to be friends are the words on his lips when seoyun turns his back to him and leaves, but he doesn’t say them, and he doesn’t follow him. instead, jaeyong cries too, silent at first, until he can’t breathe.
january 28th, 2021
he wakes up in seoyun’s spare bedroom, huangjun stirring by his side.
he wanders into the kitchen while huangjun still lingers in bed, slowly waking up, more painkillers in his system than jaeyong’s. he has intention to try and figure something out for breakfast, knowing he’s in a better state to cook than huangjun is. then again, maybe cereal is the way to go--
his train of thought is interrupted by a note on the counter. next, he sees the enchanted ring he gave seoyun for christmas. the note: won't be back for a while. make sure the door is locked when you go. jaeyong’s chest feels tight.
seoyun is gone because of him. how does he explain to huangjun? why is he the one that needs to explain to huangjun? will seoyun be okay? he stares at the ring-- this manifestation of seoyun’s wellbeing left behind, sign of jaeyong’s gratitude abandoned, and he wonders if he led seoyun on, this time entirely on accident. no, surely not; jaeyong has a boyfriend. surely his feelings and intentions were clear, weren’t they?
he texts seoyun a how long is a while? because he doesn’t know. it’s so vague-- maybe several hours, maybe several days. part of jaeyong is angry, because seoyun is a coward; seoyun always runs when things get tough.
he knows a while is more than a few hours. this is significant. he takes the ring and puts it on his own finger for the first time in months, and watches as its rich color darkens immediately.
“jaeyong?” huangjun’s voice makes jaeyong’s head snap up. “what’s wrong?”
jaeyong doesn’t know what to say, so he simply raises the note up to him with one hand, and shows him the ring on his finger with the other.
“i don’t understand. why would he just...”
jaeyong hates the look on his face: troubled, distressed, a twinge of hurt. he doesn’t know what to say. someone owes huangjun an explanation. apparently it has to be him.
“i think it’s my fault,” he admits at last, but he corrects himself. “well...no. i don’t think it’s anyone’s fault, but...because of me.”
huangjun’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, and jaeyong frowns, trying to piece the words together in his mind, but he needs to tell him the truth, even if it doesn’t feel like his truth to tell. he takes a deep breath."he kissed me again. last night. and when i asked him why...he said that he doesn't hate me, and that he likes you, and that he's jealous of both of us at the same time,” he babbles in his anxiety. huangjun moves in slow motion, taking a seat at the small table close by. jaeyong only continues to ramble. “and he apologized, and i...i don't know. i don't think i reacted well but i don't know how i could've reacted better to something like that. i apologized to him too, because...because."
the silence is deafening, but understandable, and maybe necessary. it gives them both time to process. jaeyong spends most of his time watching huangjun’s face, trying to decipher the mysteries there like he always does, always finding more no matter how much time he spends loving him.
“should we call?” huangjun asks after a while, finally looking up at jaeyong.
“i texted him, just to ask him how long he thinks he'll be,” jaeyong answers. “but maybe, if you do it. i don't think he'll want to hear from me.”
seoyun doesn’t pick up, because his phone rings in the other room. jaeyong goes to find it regardless, and says “fuck” under his breath, fighting the urge to throw it.
he stands there for a while, paralyzed by indecision, and not knowing. what does he do? he feels the tears welling up in his eyes again, at a total loss, and maybe he’s a little heartbroken himself. it isn’t love, at least not in the way he loves huangjun, but it is caring, and a feeling that’s still so rare for jaeyong. seoyun grew into something-- someone --important to him.
maybe, in some ways, he always was.
eventually, he heads back into the kitchen and sits at the table beside huangjun. he gently takes his hand, and can’t help the way his gaze grows distant, burning a hole through the table.
in the end, what matters most to jaeyong is huangjun. it’s easier to push everything aside and focus on him instead, so when he turns to look at him and sees that same vacant look in his eye, he scoots his chair closer and kisses his shoulder. he whispers, “are you okay?” even though he knows huangjun isn’t. he doesn’t know what else to say. talk to me, please. i need you to be okay.
huangjun is still silent. jaeyong lets go of his hand just to brush the hair out of his eyes and tuck it behind his ear, a habit of huangjun’s, their roles usually reversed. “huangjun, i love you,” he whispers; god, he loves him. he hates this. he hates seoyun for this, hates seoyun for the way huangjun grabs his leg with some level of panic, then looks at him and utters, “don’t leave me,” desperation laced in those words, even in all of their quiet.
it grips his heart, and his throat tightens again, that familiar precursor to tears that he chokes back, because huangjun needs him. he needs to compartmentalize it-- needs to draw on those lessons in shutting down emotions that his parents so expertly beat into him. he tries not to think about them either, and the fact that without huangjun, he is alone-- the fact that he is watching his entire world splitting at the seams. jaeyong kisses him, a kiss that says i love you. please be okay. i want you to be okay more than anything.
“i won’t,” he promises, still holding huangjun’s face so gently, like he is the most precious treasure in the universe, like jaeyong is so lucky to grasp it at all. (he is, he is.) “i’ve stayed for much worse than you,” jaeyong says, and he has. he stayed for suffocation and burning and blow after blow to his stomach, for are you my son? did i raise you to be this? he stayed for huangjun screaming, for huangjun put through hell, for his family that didn’t deserve it-- that he would still stay for if he didn’t clutch something so much better in his hands now.
“i told you, after i passed the final test my parents gave me, that i wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” he will never forget training a gun on huangjun, the tears in his eyes, the clear indication that he thought jaeyong would shoot him. he will never shake the image of doing it, of holding a dying huangjun in his arms, of chanting i love you, i love you, i wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. it played in his head on repeat even then; it’s why he said it when they both survived. he didn’t want to wait until it was too late. he wanted him to know right then. he wants him to know right now. “please don’t forget. okay?”
huangjun gives the weakest nod in response, and jaeyong kisses him again, so tenderly. this kiss says you are everything to me. i would raze this earth for you.
he wants to. a fury built in jaeyong over time, and he brought it to a simmer, controlled, trained to turn it into a weapon.
it’s one he wants to unleash on seoyun, as he has so many times before, but this is anger he thinks, for once, is righteous. the best he can do is text him, a reminder of jaeyong’s wrath to return to whenever he does.
the beach feels like home, even after hundreds of years. there is something in staring out across the water, whether it be the sea off the coasts of incheon where he was born, the canals of venice, or the han river in seoul. the sea is his favorite, in all of its vastness, grains of sand that he could spend hundreds more years counting and never actually number. it reminds him that even after 400 years, the world is so expansive; there is still so much more to see. he reminds himself of this when the years seem dull and monotonous. the world is so large with so much to see, there are so many books left to read, so many more photos to take to capture every angle of their planet.
kijung is thankful seoyun invited he and kyuhwan to come meet him on his vacation, and even more grateful for his help in persuading kyuhwan to agree to go at all. they sit on the beach now, moon shining bright overhead. kyuhwan isn’t too far away, trying to take pictures of incoming waves, and kijung sits beside seoyun, toes digging into the sand. he watches his best friend, hoping, at some point, to see him smile again like he used to.
he’s spent so many of the past weeks-- likely months now --trying to find kyuhwan’s smile again. sometimes he wonders if he stole it away forever. that was something like his intention, wasn’t it? turn him into a vampire, keep his smile forever, but no; it’s gone now. not forever, he hopes, but the days don’t go by fast enough, and the fledgling years have never felt so long. he hopes one day kyuhwan will suddenly wake up happy again, but he knows better.
what he doesn’t know is how to make it better, even after his endless searching. he won’t give up, but he is so tired. he feels that as his sire, and the one that robbed kyuhwan of his humanity, it’s his responsibility to fix. it torments him, though. how, how, how?
seoyun sits beside him, and kijung doesn’t know him well, but he does know he’s studying to be a doctor, and that’s how kyu knows him. he knows he’s a hunter too, and kijung can’t help but feel constantly on edge with him. still, he’s showed them kindness, and kijung can both keep his guard up and have appreciation for him.
he also might be able to get some help from him.
“seoyun-ssi...” he begins, eyes still trained on kyuhwan. “as someone training to be a doctor...how much do you know about depression, and how to help someone with it?” he realizes, moments later, “i’m sorry. that might be a better question for someone studying psychology, i just...” don’t know what to do anymore. he doesn’t mean for the reason he’s asking to be obvious, but he figures it would be regardless.
