◜ lost ★ boy ◝

Moments later he pulled back; not before leaving a small kiss upon Sungjong’s cheek and smiling slightly. “Let’s go to yours? I don’t think Hyung would appreciate me dirtying up his place…” Even though Sunggyu was long gone, he knew the other wouldn’t like the mess. If Eunji decided to pay a surprise visit - well they’d be screwed..

Howon had kissed him, but he was questioning it - questioning the entire encounter even. It felt fuzzy, rushed, like a dream, and half of Sungjong wished it was. He didn’t want to own Howon, he didn’t want to have killed, and captured him, but that would also mean the kiss wasn’t real either. It would be a lie to say Sungjong hadn’t wished for months already that Howon would want to kiss him, but it felt far fetched. Why would someone like Lee Howon want to kiss him?

Even so, with all the doubts and worries flooding his mind, Sungjong’s arms curled tight around Howon’s neck, and he could only nod at the question. Trying to hold onto the moment, keep reliving it in his head, the soft press of lips against lips, he couldn’t help but chew on his lower lip. He feared that as son as they moved out of the alleyway the dream would deteriorate, leaving him waking in his bed with a sinking feeling in his chest. 

For months now all he’d managed to think when with Howon, other than the sight annoyance he’d started to use as an excuse to frown at him (when it was just annoyance that he couldn’t kiss Howon), was how much he was falling. He could feel his heartbeat speed up every time the elder was nearby, the shivers that overtook his body when Howon touched him - it was ridiculous really. 

But Sungjong couldn’t deny just how much he’d fallen for him. 

“Yeah... My place.” He murmured softly, voice cracking as he steadied himself once on his feet, trying not to let the arm around his waist distract him from the task at hand - getting back to Sungjong’s apartment without causing a scene. They were, after all, both drenched in blood. There, fortunately, were a few back roads leading toward Sungjong’s building. 

Only a few minutes into the walk Sungjong found himself finally able to pluck up the courage to reach out to the hand not around Sungjong’s waist, and gently take it into his own hand, purposefully avoiding Howon’s eyes as he did so, his cheeks flushed a pretty powder pink. 

But he had to.

Sungjong, over time, realised how very addicted he was to Howon’s very being, his scent, his touch, his smile and his voice, it all sent shivers through him like tidal waves of something so utterly foreign that Sungjong didn’t know whether to welcome it or cast it out with a fiery dismissal. If he were to welcome it though, he never quite knew how he’d go about that. Not when he’d never been so utterly smitten before, never let someone so far past his defensive walls. His one relationship he’d ever had in the past held barely any romantic feelings - it was purely built on attraction.

But this was so terribly different.

Though never as different as the feeling of Howon’s plush lips against his own was. The sudden touch had him frozen where he sat, eyes widening as he tried hard to figure out the mess in his head. emotions, screaming thoughts and memories all raced through his head, and he wondered just why he wasn’t kissing back, just as Howon pulled away; he was too slow.

It was neither the time nor place for kissing, or at least Sungjong would have thought it wouldn’t be, both of them being covered in blood, Sungjong having just killed, and captured the man who had already captured Sungjong’s heart. That, however, didn’t really matter as Howon’s words floated into his head and bounced around inside his skull, reverberating and reiterating that Howon had wanted to kiss him for a while now - it seemed too good to ever be true, and Sungjong half expected to have had some awful head trauma befall him, and currently be deeply unconscious, dreaming up these ridiculously perfect situations in which Howon felt the same.

[ ... ]

The other picked up; “Yah! Lee Sungjong I’m in t-trouble. The park, I’m at the park and this -… thing! Thing, monster, creature – whatever… It’s right in front of me. What do I do? Ah, my heart is going to explode out of my chest.”

Her words were rambled mostly, mushed together as tears finally began to stream down her cheeks.

Just her luck really, that her average life would be interrupted by a creature like this.

“Please… Help.”

Sungjong often wished life really was like that. Ups and down, until the inevitable calm after the storm. Would the storm of Sungjong’s life ever calm? It seemed not to ever give him a break - it was unfortunate experience after unpleasant circumstance, all leaving Sungjong just a little bit more broken every single time, incessantly bashing more cracks into his already weak shell.

He often wondered whether it was just him that life was hard on. If other people had their ups and downs, their rollercoaster lifestyle that people were supposedly meant to have. Or if really, it all was just downhill forever. Sungjong couldn’t really remember the last time he felt like something was going his way. If he were to pick one instance, maybe he’d pick getting his interning job at Nylon, but other than that, he didn’t see much light in his life.

Fingers trailed over the card spine of the book he’d been planning to read that evening, laying atop the coffee table where he’d laid it earlier that morning after bringing it in from his bedroom. It was a story he’d not expected to enjoy, just as he never expected to enjoy anything much he ever did - he’d come to expect disappointment, but he really did live for the few perks.

The interesting characters, just as in the book, existed in his life. But it just so happened, as he picked up the heavy book, his phone began to buzz, Eunji’s name flashing onto the screen. It was out of character for her to phone at such a time of day, so it was with a frown that he lifted the phone to his ear and pressed the answer call button.

The voice on the other end had him frozen where he sat - if anyone being in danger was to terrify Sungjong is was Eunji. She was, in a way, like a mother, or older sister figure, to him, and her safety meant a lot to him. It was uncharacteristic for Sungjong to care so much about someone, but it seemed to be something he’d come to find himself doing a lot more often recently, however Eunji had been important to him for years already.

So he was on his feet in seconds, rushing out at breakneck speed with a rushed “I’m coming.” shouted over the phone.

Wind whipped at the flushed skin of his cheeks as his eyes scoured the park as he got through the entrance, and it didn’t take long for him to spot Eunji, cornered by a monster the size of a small house. Within seconds he’d thrown his rings into the air, let the gentle warmth of the light embrace him entirely and leave him clad in the outfit that last time he’d donned had ended covered in blood, the transformation complete when his pistols landed safely in each hand. In just another few seconds he was stood in front of Eunji, eyes locked on the monster.

Atleast that was until Sungjong had come up to him with an interesting proposition. The younger was a close friend of his, despite his bratty attitude and for as long as Woohyun knew him, he had never made a request. Demands, yes but never requests in the nicest (atleast in Sungjong terms) way possible. Honestly he had almost declined, given that he’s not sure he can teach someone while still trying to get used to doing things with one eye. But Sungjong had asked and he couldn’t just refuse. Which is why he’s standing in front of the other’s apartment with a bag of groceries for a cooking lesson. 

Woohyun’s not sure how he’s managed to fend for himself without knowing how to cook but he plans to change that today. He swore to himself that he would not be leaving today until he was sure the younger could manage to cook some dishes without completely ruining them. 

Had it been only a year prior, Sungjong would have seen asking someone like Woohyun for help as a knock to his pride. Nam Woohyun really wasn’t anything like Sungjong, or like the people Sungjong usually preferred to hang around with, but times had changed, and Sungjong had let himself open up to the older male. Woohyun, as much as he irked Sungjong sometimes, wasn’t all that bad. In fact, over time, it was a lot easier to see Woohyun as a friend.

Maybe not a best friend, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t see the possibility of it. Something about Woohyun made him, despite annoying, likeable.

So, as he tugs the door open and lets his eyes scour over the elder from head to foot he doesn’t feel that same distaste he felt during the first few months of knowing Woohyun. In fact, he smiles. It’s rare, to get a friendly smile from Sungjong, but he’s having a good day so far, despite bashing his head against the sink, the dull throb a subtle reminder.

“Of course, what do you take me for? A barbarian?” Sungjong could only think of one instance when he’d leave things dirty, and that was in the case that he lost both hands or was in a coma.

Or dead.

He wasn’t in any of those situations, so his apartment stood to remain in a homely state of untidiness - everything clean and dusted, but a few personal items laying around to make the place feel more lived in. “You won’t find one speck of dust in this apartment, Nam Woohyun.” Holding a hand to his chest, somewhat offended by the assumption that he could possibly leave anything dusty, he shook his head, tutted, and stepped back to let the elder in.

His teasing isn’t working, he knows it - but he tries at least.

He could imagine it to be dull at first, like a numb kind of throbbing ache, before it heated up and began to spread a wildfire of mind numbing pain that wrapped itself around his entire being - he didn’t know quite where the pain ended and he began. Drowning in a sea of his own foolish despair he tries so desperately to convince himself he did not, in any way, need Lee Howon.

But would he ever really believe his own lies?

Howon may be thankful for Sungjong capturing him, but Sungjong, in that moment, realised just how terribly he’d managed to doom himself too. As much as he loved being around Howon, he could now never not be around him - he was stuck looking at, talking to, and controlling the temptation that almost made his soul ache with longing.

Who was he to be able to hold this power over Sungjong?! He hated it with such a passion it burned almost as bright and furious as the love, and the pain of the realisation he’d never be loved back by him. It was so clear that he wasn’t made for Howon, and Howon wasn’t made for him. They were not built like puzzle pieces to be fit together, and it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - that realisation.

His hand was warm - of course it was warm, Howon was warm. It was like this comforting, almost seductive warmth, tugging in Sungjong so easily - and he was so utterly powerless to stop himself melting as the large hand took his own delicate, slender one. Despite his words the tears kept falling. He’d never admit that they weren’t only for having captured Howon, he’d never tell anyone how he cried over not being able to love Howon and be loved back.

A watery scoff passes his lips and Sungjong wants to throw up - Howon was gross, he was always gross, and he really didn’t like how he should have judged him so hard for that, but it only made the butterflies bat against his ribcage more furiously. It was no longer delicate though, it felt like their wings were razors, cutting into him from the inside out. It hurt, but could he expect anything else? Sungjong was never right for anyone. He didn’t deserve Howon as a friend let alone as anything more. Wanting it was foolish, Sungjong was foolish.

He was special to him. It should have made him smile, comforted him, but it was bittersweet. Sungjong was such a good friend, he was great. He just wasn’t good enough to be a romantic interest - he knew that, he didn’t need to be told it. He didn’t even know why the realisation had hit him so hard, but it was just there, as Howon sat drenched in his own blood. It was so blatant that his eyes lacked the feelings Sungjong desired to see in them.

Leaning back, he moved his hands to cup Sungjong’s cheeks – “now, calm down a bit okay?” he whispered out, voice soft – his gaze softened as his thumb brushed yet another stray tear away. “…I’m kinda glad it was you who did it anyway. If it had to be anyone… I’m glad it was you Jonggie.”

He would let the other do it over and over again. He would give Sungjong his life if the other wanted it. He would –

“But I had to see you die, even if it wasn’t permanent - and it was me who did that!” There were fractures in his voice, withering and fraying away as he settled on Howon’s thighs, losing his strength and simple leaning into the elder who felt so incredibly hot compared to the crippling cold that had taken over Sungjong during the moments he’d held onto Howon’s card.

He knew what he was trying to do, and for that he was thankful, but the lightheartedness did little to affect his own deep-set regret. All Sungjong could be thankful for was that Howon was a card - as strange as it sounded, had he been human, or hero, he’d be gone and he’d not come back from that death, at least now, captured but alive, Sungjong still was able to see him and hear him and touch him.

He relished in what little he managed to gain from interacting with Howon - he lived for the smiles, or the moments when their eyes met, or when Howon laid a large, warm hand on him. Addicted to the feeling of him close by he didn’t know how he’d cope had he been gone for good.

Simple answer was he wouldn’t.

Without Howon, now, Sungjong didn’t think he’d be able to function. He’d gone from being someone who annoyed Sungjong beyond belief, to someone he tolerated easily, to someone he ended up being unable to live without. He knew just how dangerous that was though, relying on him, when Howon didn’t need, or want Sungjong the way Sungjong needed and wanted him.

His soft voice, the touch to his cheeks, the nickname - it all had his chest aching, the hatred he buried under all his false-confidence slithering back to the surface for a second. Pathetic. It was easy to ignore when coming from someone else, but when directed at himself, by himself, that wasn’t something he was able to brush off as easily.

It wasn’t a time for joking, or teasing – or anything of the sort. But his weak attempt at a smile and his lame excuse for a joke was who Howon was. Just, someone trying to ease the situation a bit. He knew he had a lot to answer for, a lot of questions that he needed to elaborate on. But first, he wanted to make sure Sungjong was okay. Reaching out, he pulled the other towards him, not caring about their rather messed up state and wrapped his arms around Sungjong in a sort of hug. It was awkward, the other was kneeling while Howon sat and the height difference was clear but he just closed his eyes and pressed his face against Sungjong’s shoulder.

A choked sob left his lips and his composure, or what little was left of it, crumbled. The cold, collected attitude crumbled and slid from his grasp, leaving him with nothing but his regret, his tears, his pain as he felt that familiar swell of his chest. Even after seeing him as a monster, after killing him and taking control of him, Sungjong still couldn’t stop the feelings he felt for him from flooding his very being like a bright, warm light - it was foreign, so very foreign when Sungjong had been used to being nothing but cold for so many years.

Howon, he was sure, was destined to be his ultimate downfall, however, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He broke, crumbled and shrunk as soon as Howon’s arms circled him, and though he knew Sunggyu was still there, watching them silently, he didn’t care enough to tell him to piss off, as he usually would have had no problem doing. He slumped forward, throwing his weight against Howon as his arms slid under the card’s, hands gripping at the back of his blood-soaked shirt, his face pressing into his shoulder as he choked out his sobs, and his apologies.

Sungjong felt as if Howon would disappear if he let go in that moment, that this moment was so delicate that any wrong move might break it and cause Howon to shift to hatred as Sungjong still expected would come - the gentle touch and soft voice after the huge dark mass of shadows didn’t fit. He was tense, muscles taut as he clung to Howon, slowly and hesitantly shifting until he was practically in his lap.

“I’m the one who should be sorry- I killed you!”

What felt like both mere minutes, and lengthy hours later he lifted his head, opening his eyes and clutching tighter at the card. A numbness had spread from his fingertips and deep within his chest, trickling out along his bones and veins and arteries, filling him up until he knew nothing but the chilling cold and lack of anything but the dull ache in his chest. It was only when a familiar voice met his ears, sounding as if he were underwater, did he break out of the grieving trance he’d slipped into and choke out a sob.

It wasn’t immediately clear whose voice he was hearing, saying things Sungjong simply couldn’t understand in that moment when all he cared about was Howon, now simply a piece of card held in his hands. From only an hour ago believing Howon was nothing more than a simple human, to knowing now what he truly was, Sungjong didn’t think he could handle even moving for hours longer - he didn’t know what to do, who to seek out for help, or even how to stop crying.

It took a few minutes before the hand on his shoulder was registered and the soft voice, belonging to Sunggyu, Sungjong only then realised, sifted through the blanket cutting out the world around him, and reached his ears. “Sungjong? Tell me what happened.”

It’s meant to be soothing, he thinks, but it’s anything but. It brings it all back - what he’d done, what situation he’d been left in. It hurt, knowing that he’d captured Howon. Many heroes would be elated at the fact they’d just captured their first card, but Sungjong had never wanted this. He’d never held any interest in capturing cards himself - it was the only reason he’d joined a team, to help the cause, but hand over the chance at capture to other heroes, ones who oozed enthusiasm and naivety.

Sungjong didn’t want control over Howon, he wanted him to be free, but to set him loose once more meant he was a traitor, and he’d very likely be hunted down if anyone ever found out.

It took him a while to choke out what had happened to Sunggyu, his eyes still locked on Howon’s card. The Shadow Marionette. It was such an intriguing card, but he knew what lay within it and he wanted him back. He wanted his Howon back-

Even though he knew he wasn’t, and never would be his in the way he desired.

Sunggyu’s advice was what Sungjong would expect from the leader of the rookie group - it was level-headed and experienced advice, laying out his options for him. He could keep Howon and control him and make sure they were both safe, he could keep Howon’s card, but give him back all his freedom he’d had when still uncaptured, ignoring the few necessities of holding a card - like the summoning thing that Sungjong didn’t even want to think about. Or he could set him free and hope no one ever found out. Sunggyu promised, if he picked that option, that he’d keep his secret - Sungjong wouldn’t expect any less from him.

The first option Sungjong instantly ruled out - he’d never cut off Howon’s powers. It made sense now, the time Howon had saved Sungjong from getting hit by a car. He remembered thinking the distance made no sense, that there was no way, with their placement, Howon could have saved him.

But he did, and now it made sense. So Sungjong was sure Howon wasn’t a bad card. He’d never given Sungjong a reason to not trust him, and from that one instance he knew Howon used his powers to help - he just hoped it wasn’t only for him. He didn’t know what circumstance the rookie kid had tried to fight Howon in, but Sungjong would put money on the presumption that it wasn’t Howon who started the fight.

So, after a moment thought he picked option two. It was safer for them both, and if Howon still asked to be set free when he wasn’t stuck within the card Sungjong simply wouldn’t let go of just yet, then Sungjong would let him go, no matter what repercussions Sungjong would then suffer. “How do I summon him?”

His voice was weak, quiet and feeble, barely holding up against the noise of the busy Busan street at the end of the alleyway. “Just call his card name.”

Even though he was eager to see Howon again it took him a moment to summon him - he was scared that Howon would hate him. That he’d resent him for capturing him, for so pathetically shooting him when he back was turned. It was a coward’s killing and Sungjong could feel the guilt and regret seep into his very bones and stick like glue.

Taking a deep breath he gently set the card down before him, hands coming to rest in tightly clenched fists on his thighs as he breathed softly.

“Shadow Marionette, I summon you.”

As he fell back again, Howon swallowed thick – telling himself not to think about it, telling himself to focus on just counting.

“Three – “

When he started to count Sungjong gave it his all, pushing himself into a sitting position, a deep frown set into his bro. It hurt and his body was shaking already, muscles protesting already at the unnatural movements. Sungjong wasn’t built for this, but he most definitely was not built for being so close to Howon when he sat up - he could feel his breath against his lips.

Head beginning to spin he didn’t know whether he wanted to lie back down and never get back up, or if he never wanted to move away at all. Howon, from up close, seemed both perfect, and imperfect - every little dip and curve of his face was distracting, and Sungjong, in all honesty, wanted to reach out and shove him away, even though he knew he’d fall back.

He held back however, leaning back with a huff, then swinging his arms slightly to get the momentum, holding it as he was sat up, eyes lingering once again on Howon, this time flicking to his lips, plump and terribly tempting.

Sungjong wanted to punch him.

Laying back he felt the burn everywhere, the damp feeling of hair stuck to his forehead, and in that moment he’d never felt more unappealing.

Third time and he was done, falling back with a huff and a soft whine, eyes closing. He felt the warm hands leave his legs and instinctively his brow furrowed, fists curling tight into balls at his sides for a moment - he wanted to go home. This was too hard, and though he’d thought he could handle working out with Howon, even after he realised just why he annoyed him, he still couldn’t keep away - Howon was toxic.

He reached out his hand, wiggling his fingers slightly. He didn’t want to reach out and touch Sungjong without his permission again, he wasn’t sure if he would be pushing any boundaries. If there was one thing Howon knew, it was that it wasn’t best to push anything with Sungjong.

Plus, he liked being his friend too much to accidently ruin it by doing something stupid.

It wasn’t the burning pain he didn’t like, it was the sweating, and the lack of breath, and the feeling of being ridiculed for not being fit enough. He hated the way he could feel eyes on him all the time whenever he was in a gym. It was disconcerting and he hated how everyone could see how awful his stamina was. It felt odd, dressed in sweats and a baggy shirt that would hang so it made him look daintier - which definitely wasn’t what he wanted when in a gym with butch guys ridiculing his thin body.

“I have absolutely zero abdominal muscles, Howon, I will die.” He stated simply, bringing his knees up to his chest as his eyes locked on the hand with it’s wiggling fingers. Unsure as to why, he knew he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Lee Howon - not because he expected him to laugh and tease him about his inability to do anything that required great physical effort, but because the thought of not seeming good enough in Howon’s eyes scared Sungjong.

Over time he’d come to disregard the opinions of others - he knew he was attractive, and that he had talent when it came to designing and had a great passion for fashion, but it seemed, after all these years of nonchalance, Howon had managed to break Sungjong’s resolve to stay uncaring about what others thought of him. Sungjong cared this time. He cared that Howon might think him weak, but on the other hand, Sungjong also wanted Howon to hate him, and he wanted to hate Howon.

He didn’t want to be friends, or maybe he did, he didn’t understand his own feelings - all he knew was that if Howon hated him, felt at least something strong toward Sungjong, that he’d be okay, and he’d not miss having him around. He wanted not to care about what Howon thought of him or how he saw him.

Maybe Sungjong, under it all, knew he felt a little something more than friendship for Lee Howon, but he was fighting it, and didn’t plan on letting the slippery feelings through his fingers - he’d protect, hide and crush the affections. He didn’t feel like having his heart broken by a straight man.

It was, in the end, easier to simply pretend Howon annoyed him, that Sungjong wanted nothing more than to hit he man.

He sent a grin over towards his tall friend before beginning to show him – First he bent down and touched his toes, hands wrapping around his ankles – “I’m gonna take a guess that you’re already pretty flexible. It’s important to keep that up,” letting out a groan, Howon stood tall and bent his back slighty, before hearing a loud pop and sighing. “Your muscles tense when not in use. It’s important to keep them worked,” he reminded, before going about doing the rest of the stretches. A few mountain climbers, and nearly doing the splits; Howon wasn’t even that flexible yet.

It surprised him that Howon remembered that Sungjong was a vegetarian - not many people remembered that about him, but the sight of a protein shake had his nose scrunching like a bunny's, brow furrowed and eyes locked on the beverage suspiciously. He’d never liked the look, or sound, of them, but at least it looked like a milkshake - he liked milkshakes. So tentatively taking the cup, holding it delicately in both hands, it being rather larger than he’d expected, he peered down at the lid with a slight grimace, deciding he’d leave the first sip for a while.

He listened to the rambling Howon was spewing as he hesitantly made his way over to him and the mat. The strange phrasing of ‘catwalk’ had Sungjong chuckling - he’d never heard anyone split up the words literally before, but then Howon was strange, just another reason Sungjong found himself annoyed by him.

Watching Howon stretch turned out to be enough of a reward for dragging his ass out of his house to go through torture. The way his muscles rippled had Sungjong’s eyes locked on his biceps and shoulders, lips parted slightly, losing his focus on everything and almost dropping the unusually heavy drinks cup. The cracking of his back however snapped him out of his reverie, his nose once again scrunching. Everything looked easy enough - Howon was right in thinking Sungjong was flexible.

Setting down the cup he made his way over next to Howon with a heavy sigh and leant down to wrap his hands round his ankles, bringing his face to his knees easily, then slowly lifting himself back up. The strain in his muscles wasn’t even a burn yet, and so maybe he was showing off a little bit, but he’d not be Choi Sungjong if he didn’t. The next stretch was easy enough as well, doing only one on each leg as he sighed - he didn’t even feel the burn yet, so what was the point of this all? The last one he’d not tried in a while - he knew he used to be able to do the splits, but he gave a slight shrug, wondering if he’d still be able to - he hoped so, he really did like showing off.

As expected he slid into full splits and looked up at Howon expectantly as he sat there, legs stretched out to the sides. He could feel a couple gazes lingering on him, but he was somewhat used to that, even if it most definitely bothered him in this environment, where he didn’t have the usual power he retained in a habitat he knew well and had control over.