x hydra

The sight in front of him wasn’t something that was relatively new to Hoseok, it wasn’t the first time he’s seen such pain and cold intent to kill just pooling on the surface of Kyungsik’s eyes, but it didn’t mean he particularly liked to be the receiving end of such a look. The last time that happened, well he’d rather not revisit. Kyungsik could easily be intimidating if he wanted to, and downright frightful if he intended to be. And today just seemed to be the day his eyes just screamed bloody murder.

Hoseok’s steps were careful, silent and steady and slow as his adrenaline would allow him to go, as he approached the man. God, Sabbat should really stop fucking up Sik on a regular basis, it was shortening his lifespan.

“Hey babe, you in there?” No response. Not a surprise, seeing as Sik looked like a leopard stalking a prey with the intent to feed. If it weren’t for the distance in between them and the chains that gave him limited coverage, Hoseok knew his guts would be painting the dull grey walls something a little more vibrant. But the blatant fact that Sik can kill him -and will without hesitation, judging by the look on his face- was ignored in favour of the stupid fact that he wanted Kyungsik back.

He wanted his friend back. And reclaiming him was long overdue.

“Fuck, Sik just say something.” He was frustrated and nervous, the stupidest concoction of nerves especially in front of this Kyungsik. Hoseok knew, without even thinking much, what exactly happened. By the looks of it, he was kept away from any form of sustenance -be it blood or human food- and rest. There was no respite from how cruel his own kind, his own family, can be. And sometimes Hoseok just wanted to take the idiot away from it all, but they both knew how that plan would go south. At the speed of light.

“Moon Kyungsik, fucking dammit what have they done now.”

He was musing out loud, he knew that much, but that was the only way he can actually stop himself from succumbing to the panic and the anger because of the sight in front of him, and he continued on. With his approach and his little one sided conversation.

“Hey buddy, let’s stop this okay? You look dumb as fuck with those stupid blue eyes. Put those shit away.” A step, and then another. And another until he was near enough to feel the warmth of Sik’s snarls as he bared his teeth, growled at him the more he came closer. “Quit fucking growling at me shithead, I have your key.”

Hoseok has always been quick, that he can claim with confidence. But between the both of them, Sik had always been lightning fast on moments he wanted to be. And this was most likely one of those moments. Hoseok knew he was prey to his friend the moment one of the elders -he had no fucking idea what to call those old people anyways- gave him the key to Sik’s chains.

He had no idea how many more times he had to go through these kinds of things or what the purpose was. He had no fucking clue who was even being subjected to the torture anymore at this point. The mere sight of Sik bound and reduced to a sneering monstrosity of a weapon woke up all the demons in his head in the worst way possible. All the blood drying from Sik looked so out of place, so wrong on him.

“Babe, I’m going to remove the chains so you fucking stay still.”

His eyes never left the electric blue that seemed to be a steady fixture on Sik as he moved closer, but hazel eyes widened in surprise at the flash of honey in the dimly lit room and Hoseok’s steps skidded to a stop at the gravely voice that barked an order he’d die to contradict.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” Sik’s voice dripped venom and pain and the look on his face -the sneer softened until it was just his fangs bared without the aggression, the honey brown glow of his eyes Hoseok associated with his friend more than the blue- felt like a knife right through him. He’d rather die than let that look and let Sik stay a second more where he was.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sik’s voice was deadpan, monotonous as he spoke words of comfort, a pat on the back as he looked at the bonfire of a scene in front of them. An impromptu arson that was, in his opinion, necessary. And Hoseok had to laugh despite himself. Fuck if Sik was anything other than true.

It almost bothered Hoseok how Sik was not once affected as they dragged their target out of his own vehicle in the middle of nowhere, ambushing him in a way only predatory cats would, and all but mutilating him beyond recognition. To think that the target used to be someone Hoseok looked up to, respected.

He had vowed a thousand times, and Sik around as witness for most of them, to never hurt someone he’d honoured as family. That he would never lay a finger to those he considered his own. Regardless of reason or accusations. But even saints break their vows and he was no saint, Kyungsik even less so. And to stay true to his word, to keep his word, he had to sully -yet again- the hand of one of the few people he truly placed his trust on without hesitation and wavering belief. He had asked Sik to do his deed for him.

All because the motherfu—, all because the man could not stay faithful to the family.

“Don’t bother consoling me, I’m over it.” They both knew that was bullshit. He hated, more than anything, to go against his word. But it was necessary evil. It was needed to keep the family alive. Kill one for the sake of thousands under his care. Under his watch. But still, it didn’t mean that it sat well with him. “Fucker just had to go to Castor. Thought I wouldn’t know.”

Grabbing the handkerchief from his jacket pocket, Hoseok bent down to wipe the blood from the leather, red looked good on black but he be damned if he’d let that dry. That would be a pain. And then, fuck.

A sharp pain surged through him, almost like being electrocuted, and he cursed the dead man in all the languages he knew. Fucker just had to get one in before he died.

“Fuck Sik, babe you might want to catch me in a minute.” Laughter tumbled out of him as a panic response, how did he not fucking notice the warmth of his own blood flowing down his side? Fucker really did hit him where it mattered. He needed to get up and at least try not to die. “Fuck.”

And the moment he stood on his feet was the very same moment his brain decided to catch the fuck up with his injury, flushing out all the adrenaline and leaving him high and dry. So much for trying not to die.

“Fucking hell.”

The sight in front of Hoseok felt like a massacre and looked a breath away from carnage. Blood on the walls and on the soles of his shoes, the smell of iron and the salt lingered and took hold of his lungs with every breath. But the bile rose to his throat at the image right smack in the middle of the room amidst the bodies -that was what they were reduced to, carcasses and nothing more- of long dead enemies.

This was going to be one of the images that would burn itself into his memories, he was already sure of it. Years of death and destruction, years of using any mean to conquer, desensitised Hoseok to the point of numbness and nothing easily got to him. But the look of exhaustion, the stillness in front of him felt far too real to rationalise as a part of the job.

He was held back from storming in prior to him fighting his own men tooth and claw to get to where he was, yells of indignation in his wake as he walked into the shadows, and Hoseok could swear up and down then and there that he would never forget the sight. Know it would haunt him until he himself haunted the world.

“Fuck, Sik.”

Voice barely above a whisper, his feet took him to where his friend was. Tied in the middle of the room, hanging by his chains. Blue eyes a permanent fixture where warmth used to be. This was a nightmare. Hoseok rationalised. This cannot be real.

When Sabbat answers his inquiries with vague disinterest, almost dismissively, whenever he asked where Kyungsik was, he had his doubts. He was out of the country, off the grid, they had no idea. Bullshit.

He ran before he could even think of the action, the consequences of it too, and moved to the man. Kyungsik looked at nothingness with unseeing eyes, a dead stare where Hoseok knew with every fiber of his being a calculating look should be. Hoseok very well knew the danger of approaching Kyungsik in the state he was in, knew how he could very well end up the same way as the countless bodies that littered the room. Cold and dead, drained. But trust is such an optimistic little shit.

“Sik. Sik, you little shit, wake up.” He didn’t bother to mask the fear in his voice, in every syllable he whispered, as he slowed his approach. The chain that held Sik down looked unassuming but he knew enough of Sabbat to know how the sadism can run so fucking deep but trust really can kill. “Fucking snap out of it for fuck’s sake.”

He had no idea why he was whispering, what purpose it was even serving. The singing of the blood in his veins and his very heartbeat might as well be sirens screaming to Kyungsik at this state. His friend could very well kill him without remorse at this point and fuck it if he cared.

Tentative steps. Slow breaths and even slower approach was what he planned in his head —blueprint, script and blocking ready. But all is took was the rustling of chains and the wind, almost like a flutter of butterfly wings against his cheek and the world stood still. This was where he placed all his trust to the monster they made him.

“Fuck Sik, what did they do to you? They said they had no idea where you were, said you fucked off or some shit.” His one sided conversation almost felt normal, despite the heaviness of Sik all but draped on him, weighing him down. The man’s breath literally on his throat and fear coating him in cold sweat. “The fuck happened, you little shit?”

He knew he was allowed into the room without a fight from the Sabbat because there would be no fight, there would be no struggle from Hydra or him. Only death. That was the outcome they hoped for, for some sick reason. He should really stop trusting everyone. “Sik, snap out of it you little shit.”

If he thought his voice was hoarse from all the whispering, he was sorely overwhelmed by how Sik sounded. Every word felt like death was clawing from six feet under and it made his blood run cold.

“—and you believed them?”

His voice was a whisper to his jugular, cold and dead and decaying, and Hoseok felt like such a traitor. He could die where he stood and all he felt was regret. He couldn’t help, he never once stood to look for Kyungsik those days he wondered. It would have made a world of difference if he moved an inch.

“I wouldn’t be here if I did, you know that.” He knew, without looking, that those eyes would no longer be looking dead, even if he sounded like death come to life. Those blue gems would be gleaming with murder and Hoseok finally knew how it felt to be the receiving end of Sabbat’s very own weapon. And he had to be fucking calm to somehow reach out to the friend he had locked inside somewhere.

“If you need to, you can bite me you know. Feed or whatever. Just don’t overdo it.”

Hoseok sat behind his polished oak desk, mask a facade of calm -like a still lake or a fog. looming and just suffocating- as he looked at the man in front of him seated far too comfortably on the leather couch that’s seen more deaths than he’d be comfortable to admit. Kyungsik. With his eyes that looked like rum against the sun; almost red, too rich and far too strong. But this wasn’t the same Kyungsik he’s ran through the expanse of the mansions with, this wasn’t the same Kyungsik that gave him colds -and that one time when he was sixteen, pneumonia- because stargazing until they passed out in the cold was always a good idea. No. This was Moon Kyungsik of the Sabbat and he was, as his people have described, more monster than man.

“We think about runnin’ away” Oh he knew where this was going. He remembers this one like it was a favourite movie. Thoughts half baked from the ramblings of two children far too into their own world, far too disconnected to realise the fact that those half baked dreams would stay just as they are, dreams. “But we already know there’s nothing to run away from.”

He couldn’t retaliate with a reply, would not give Sik -his oldest friend, his ally, the world- the satisfaction of shattering something so closely guarded as his dream. No one was allowed to shatter that piece of his soul. Not even Sik. Because no crown or no title, no amount of wealth and no conquered territory can surpass the peace he dreamed of.

Alone. Under the stars. With nothing but the stillness of the ground beneath him and the wind threading through his hair as company.

Even the worst of men and monsters dream of the quiet peace.

“This is goddamn life.”

And Sik was right.

On rare days that he happened to take things seriously, Sik struck where it hurt and every pounding counted. And Hoseok never did appreciate being the receiving end of his quips. This was still Sik being whimsical and truthful at the same time, a rarity he doesn’t really fancy much. But still, he was served.

The striking blue like lightning that flashed for a second across the warm honey he’s associated with his calmness, felt like cold water. A chilling ice soaking through his soul, his pitch black conscience and straight down the deep recesses of himself where he hid his hope.

And he knew right then and there, he’s lost.

A smile far too sharp, like carefully rusted knife, made its way to his lips as he sat straighter on his seat, the leather reminding him of his place, his position in the family and the weight of the throne he sat on. The same throne Sik was no doubt going to be chosen for for Sabbat one of these days. And his mask stays. Because that’s who he is now; the capo, godfather to his men and the darkness never to be unveiled to the rest of society.

“That was a childhood delusion, Kyungsik.” The name felt like iron and salt on his tongue but the words tasted more bitter. No one could shatter his dreams. No one but Hoseok himself, apparently.