paradis perdus

»»—— weight of living —»

there are several things that cross his mind as he remains in his stance, processing the younger, the smaller wolf’s words. he also ensures to remember very well that he is not here for his own wellbeing - after all, he would not get dragged out of the depths for what the witch pulled as as a pseudo half threat with inklings of a favour for no reason at all. he’s here because it benefits boa. and there’s probably hope that it won’t be an utter waste of time. he would not have come out during a time like this if it was not important. especially seemingly lone, this is a vulnerable time yet this boa… made it a priority to come out here.  his jaw clicks, as seunghun’s eyes stray away from boa only to think. “i’m glad you are being logical about it.” because there is no way he can turn anyone back. witches couldn’t even do that. no one could do that. once a wolf, always a wolf alive, or plain ol’ dead in the ground. the words sound so dry, sarcastic but he means them at face value. he is glad boa is being logical about this.

“alright,” slowly nodding. he’s agreeable, his shoulders stop hunching, the tension leaving them (despite being ready to snap at any second if the two misstep around one another.) “…i’m willing to give this a try. the investigator did not tell me enough. only that i had to be here.” looking sideways before glancing back at boa, he moves forward as well to meet boa step by step. he owes him that much. even if by pack code, he owes him nothing. it’s a personal decision. “unwillingly, and unknowingly, you have been put into this shift of lifestyle due to me. if you need assistance, or explanations… i can help you. but it seems you have been faring well enough. for starters, you are alive.” and not by bare minimum means, after all - the wolf had hired a private investigator. first things first, seunghun must ask. “have you been recruited into a pack?”

The suspense keeps his body wound tight as Boa waits, watching and attempting to anticipate the reaction of the wolf before him. It’s difficult to coalesce the terrors having reigned over him for months on end with the man he’s been presented with; slight in frame though expressive, appearing calm, reflective even as Boa holds no doubt he’s being scrutinized, threat-level no doubt mercilessly assessed. His gaze remains fixed, his focus singular even beyond the moment when he can see the shift, sense the difference - small changes in the other’s posture, the air between them flowing freely into his own lungs as the tension seems to dissipate at least partially. “Thank you.” The words fall light as a breeze, his steps still tentative as he continues closing the distance, breaching the lighter atmosphere with a palpable relief. “Thank you.”

»»—— weight of living —»

he wasn’t born yesterday. that and shinwon had briefed him with the gist of the situation (’a favour from a friend’), which was not all that surprising, considering he didn’t meet up with random wolves left and right. this is a predicament that seunghun hasn’t found himself in before. the ugly guilt that jumps up his throat like a blow to the head has him quiet, eyes zeroing in on boa’s frame. his demeanour. his behaviour. tempering his own breathing to be even and unbated, they remain glued. there are pressing questions that he wants to ask, such as the degree of certainty, and whether it matters or not. they aren’t bound like the less fairer creatures of vampires who are doomed to be sired or whatnot. there is no red string of bloody fate that ties these two in any way together, if they are indeed what the man before him is making it out to be.

no matter how hard seunghun wishes, he only has glimpses and foggy memory pieces of what happened on this alleged night, a moon doused fever dream. it seems his guilt was not for naught, as this made one of the pieces slip into place, painfully logical. “i do not know you.” if a difficult answer to say and for the recipient to hear, it is in the least, honest. and that is something he can offer the basically newborn wolf if nothing else. “but i have a suspicion that you were newly turned, slightly over a year ago.” the timeline matches, if the other could confirm. it would be true. “there is nothing i can do for you. you have wasted your time in coming out here. endangering yourself.”  

The silence between them seems to stretch on eternal, heavy in his chest as it rises and falls swiftly in pace with his breathing even as Boa does his best to soothe his own nerves. Perhaps it’s his senses that are throwing him, the heavy scent of the other werewolf somehow overbearing despite the space between them - with a start, he realizes it might be some form of recognition, or maybe another manifestation of his trauma, roaring its head, telling him this is it, this is what it was all about in an effort to instill that same terror. If so, it fails, his gaze remaining fixed on the other man not in challenge, but earnest determination.

way back home.

@feyboa

another friday, another night of minhyun sprawled out all over his worn in couch, snacks spread out on the table in front of him and his favorite pillow tucked underneath his head. he’s been in the same position for the last few hours, parked in front of the tv putting a few more hours into his newest favorite game. the sun had set a few hours ago but minhyun has been too lazy and far too invested in his game to get up and turn the lights on. so as he moves through another level only to get scared shitless by yet another creepy monster does he finally his save and turn the console off. sighing, minhyun pushes himself up into a sitting position, wincing at how sore he finds himself after hours of sitting awkwardly on a couch that barely offers up support as it is.

his growling stomach is what motivates him to finally leaving the sinking cushion on the right that he finds to be his favorite. he doesn’t go far though, just to the fridge in search of the large roll of gimbap his mother had sent him home with just the night before. prize in hand, he falls back into his spot but instead of picking the controller back up, he abandons it in favor of scrolling through social media on his phone as he eats. minutes turn into an hour as he scrolls aimlessly, pausing only long enough to like a picture or two and to watch a cute cat video before moving on. what causes him to pause is a photo of boa.

he had met boa after two years of living and suffering through university housing. fed up, minhyun had spent the next few weeks looking through ad after ad, hoping for the perfect roommate. and he was pleasantly surprised to find boa. although the other had been a few years older than minhyun, they had gotten along great, enough for minhyun to grow to care for boa as an older brother.

and that hadn’t changed even when boa had disappeared. minhyun had spent a month worried sick to his stomach, calling, texting and contacting all of their shared acquaintances only to come up empty handed time and time again. he’d been debating on contacting the police and report boa as a missing person, hesitating only because it wasn’t weird for boa to disappear for a few days to a week at a time. everytime he heard what sounded like footsteps out their front door, his eyes flickering up to the front door hoping to see boa slipping through it, but it never happened.

but right on the cusp of going to the police, boa had proven him wrong, sweeping into the front door of the apartment uninjured and looking healthier than he had in a while. minhyun had been shocked, unsure of how to act but just immensely relieved. it was all cut short when boa announced only minutes later that he found somewhere else to live and had packed up his things, leaving minhyun with his shocked feelings and an empty second bedroom.

now he sits here, looking at a photo of boa wearing an outfit that is much more than what minhyun racks up in student debt each semester. it’s a great photo, even minhyun can admit that as he sits there, an unfamiliar feeling simmering in the pit of his stomach. he should let it go, be happy that boa is happy and doing whatever it is he’s doing now. but he just has so many pent up emotions about this, so many unanswered questions that he can’t help but to open his messages, typing out a quick greeting to boa, unsure of the other will even answer him. but he’s feeling fearless for the moment, so he hits send and settles back onto the couch, too perplexed to even finish his food.

Boa awakens from his dream with a start and a light gasp, his eyes snapping open abruptly as he flails for purchase. His hand slams onto the minimalist coffee table in front of him before he can tip over and crash right down on the floor, his face hanging dangerously close to one of the pointed glass edges of the table, threatening to poke into his face. A groan slips past his lips, exasperated as he tries to orient himself - home, living room, sofa, napping - pushing back safely onto the couch before his balance fails him again. He is met with resistance as he tries to settle, prompting him to turn around to find Inshik fast asleep behind him, eyelids fluttering restlessly, mouth slightly ajar. The familiar was no doubt solely responsible for Boa’s near-death experience through his sheer insistence on closeness, especially when napping - with a pleased sigh, he comes to the realization that he must’ve fallen asleep while they were watching TV again.

Arms extending in a languid stretch, he arches his back before sitting up on the couch, blinking sluggishly at the sight of the plates on the table, reminded of dinner. His stomach gives a low rumble but is dismissed as simply wanting a snack, an image of chocolate - maybe even ice cream - tormenting him as he rises, bumping his shin on the table with a low whine. Lack of coordination aside the nap had left him relaxed, insulating him from any significant mood drop despite the temporary pain in his leg as he pads over to the large windows overlooking the city. 

The sun’s descent completed, the city’s vibrant lights alone illuminate the streets down below, left wanting for the light of the moon as it hangs discreet, crescent, in the sky. A quiet tune tumbles out of his mouth, foot tapping along as he unlocks his phone with little interest, swiping away notifications until one in particular catches his eye. Minhyun. No matter the amount of time passed the name still bore down with an ache in his chest; a guilty tug at his heart to go with the blush at the tip of his ears. He loathed admitting his own mistakes, especially ones as significant as this, an odd mix of shame and longing for their shared familiarity keeping him hostage, frozen on the cusp of a reply.

Whatever he thought to say felt inadequate, causing him to backtrack several times before closing down the messaging app entirely. The desire to reach out had resurfaced many a time since they’d last seen each other but guilt ate at the confidence Boa had become accustomed to, taken for granted and found comfort in when talking to Minhyun; memories of their carefree chatter still echoing in his head. It drives him to make a quick decision, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he taps away at his phone before raising it to his ear.

»»—— weight of living —»

the walk there is nothing enjoyable. the intrigue layered upon a warm nest of the unknowing, biting through with curiosity is what pushes him to go. when he’d received this peculiar inquiry from a nosy witch, with some prying words, seunghun finds himself inevitably in this situation. too many questions left unanswered had him uncomfortable. despite it being over a year ago, whilst time had numbed several things, the lack of closure eats away at him. rarely one to lose control over a full moon, it’s not unlike werewolves in general to be triggered by certain things. it’s only in tandem with the lull of the moon that the combination can sometimes be life altering, if not for himself, but for those around him. unfortunately, the possession leaves him without clarity, left naught but with a foggy memory of  knowing. simply knowing that something that occurred that night.

this is not the time to be wandering about, lest alone. even with the end goal of being at the sacred grounds, there’s the fear that rules would bend during a time of unrest where ‘everything goes’. it’s a wary pace there, watchful of all his senses as seunghun gets to his destination for the ‘meeting place’. it’s peculiar at best, absolutely no pre-requisite for what or whom he is to meet, only of the potential of ‘why’. there’s only one reason why he’d be here, yet seunghun won’t admit it to himself. so he stays, mouth shut, arms slack by his side as he waits, unsure of what to even wait for. sending a message to the witch, he glares at his phone noncommittally before pocketing the device, distractions be damned.  

feyboa

When the call from the private investigator had finally come through, it had somehow been exhilarating. To finally have something tangible, something to go on, someone to look at and talk to about the night that had haunted him for nearly a year, denying him sleep and constricting his throat as if with an unrelenting grip - it was spellbinding. It had stopped feeling quite as exciting once Boa had ventured out, careful and withholding about his destination, lying despite the fact that he knew the current werewolf crisis would put him at risk and necessitate truthfulness now more than ever. Despite this, he refuses to be hindered. Not by guilt as he smiles and lies through his teeth; his crawling fear as he makes his way to the sacred grounds, nor whatever the hell one would call the feeling that overtakes him once he finally, finally lays eyes on the man he had been looking for. 

` * ∞ descry

kijung’s life these days is monotone. every day is go to school, pretend to do homework, try to find ways to bring kyuhwan’s joy back, scrape through the day by his side. kijung doesn’t know himself as an empathetic person, but his fledgling– his best friend –nearly feels like an extension of himself, and as he suffers, so does kijung. the days roll on, and kijung waits for the one that is the turning point: the glimpse of things getting better, that their eternity will not be one of darkness and kijung’s persistent regret. no, he has faith. in time, kyuhwan’s mourning of his human life will fade, no matter how many years it takes. kijung waits for it eagerly.

in the meantime, there is the slightest change to routine: kijung graduated high school mere days ago, and in it comes freedom. soon, he will enter university (barely, his slacking in his billionth time through high school and subsequent poor grades nearly keeping him from further education.) soon, he will be able to truly learn something, and kijung anticipates it. he just has to decide what he’ll study this time. it’s a decision more exciting than many he’s made recently.

it’s what occupies his thoughts as he walks home from the closest library, backpack significantly heavier than it was when he left home today, full of unread books. he’s about to put his second earbud into his ears, a chopin piece queued up to play on his phone, when he catches a strange scent. he pauses in his tracks. no, strange isn’t the word; unexpected, maybe– familiar, yes. he can’t place it, however.

kijung, as a master vampire, always trusts in his ability to protect himself, and so when he is curious about something, he typically pursues it with little fear of the danger to himself. to mei and kyuhwan, yes, but he doesn’t see any harm in following the scent and trying to place where he knows it from. 

the scent is a werewolf, clearly, but…not a werewolf he’s seen anytime recently. he wracks his mind for those he’s gone months, maybe years, without seeing, but falls short. who is this? he catches sight of him on the sidewalk up ahead, and picks up his pace. if this werewolf has any sense at all, surely he will smell– or hear –him coming.

                      ──────────────────             ` @feyboa  *

It had taken Boa quite a while to familiarize himself with the city when he had first arrived, though it had been an entirely pleasant experience. The sense of wonder and discovery inevitably fades over time, as the corners no longer reveal new streets as you turn them, and the paths you’ve come to tread frequently offer no new surprises. In the beginning, the language had felt exciting as it buzzed around him at a pace that often left him behind, crowding his ears with sounds that fit awkwardly in his mouth once he’d become determined to claim them for himself. It had felt a bit like falling in love, he supposed, when he had seen the sun set over the Han river and could finally express how the sight moved him.

If that was the first days of love, he imagined this as the post-break up reconciliation.

The streets were still known, familiar to him after years of hurrying to and from his destinations; the bus, work, the club, his apartment - but everything from the places he could go, the shoes on his feet to the sounds around him had changed. It was louder, brighter and somehow felt both further away and closer than ever, a difference stark enough to have taken him time to get used to. But he had persevered. Now he could walk the streets comfortably, neither enchanted nor disillusioned as he popped between boutiques, the slight lilt to his pronunciation when inquiring the cashier about sizes bothering neither of them in the slightest.

The feeling of triumph he was riding on after a particularly satisfying purchase was short-lived, however, as the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end halted him in his tracks, fingers frozen mid-tap on his phone. It didn’t take him long to continue walking, heart beating in his chest as Boa strained to both listen and move as naturally as possible to not draw attention to himself. It was unmistakably a vampire; a certain scent and even sound as they walked, all things he had ironically remained ignorant of until his own transformation into a werewolf.

“Stop following me.” All too acquainted with the predatory pull to keep hunting one's prey, Boa spoke sharply, hands trembling even as he remained determined to break the vampire’s immersion. Confident he could be heard despite the distance between them, he half-turned to look behind him, slowing down slightly as he squinted at the figure. “Do I... know you?” Something about the gait struck him as familiar, throwing him off, heart still beating madly in his chest and his desperation to find an answer planting a fear that he was maybe being fooled. Whoever it was must’ve been able to scent him already, and if Boa had recognized them, he realized that perhaps it was mutual.

It’s an …  especial duende, his ogle coruscating and inseparably anchored, nonverbal intrigue he troths, delicate with truthfulness, attentive in the lover’s way, unmoving. “Do I not breathe correctly, or … ?” His words are breathily evanescent, still hoarse with early inexperience, reacquainting with strengthening daylight. A yawn, he smirks, “I do also prefer the stretches …  I mean, it’s like you gave up on me once I asked for help and now I don’t even get to have a say? That’s not how you teach someone, Dhanin. Do you want to discourage me?” 

The kiss is much a suitable propitiation, however, captured with unabashed haste. A beloved, natural sedative, that subdues him into idiomatic malleability, shapeable, albeit with due patience. Their coalescence provides crucial sustenance, the tightness of their human crochet tested by his quizzical squeeze, altogether content. Sweetheart acquiescence, “… Mm, okay.” There’s a point about good behavior whose emphasis he ultimately forgoes, gaze translating its conversation instead, a wink, his form slacked. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

☼  - tried & true

“so, of course you are here for a reason. i will do my best to help you, providing that i can take on your assignment.” his fingers are clasped together, elbows atop the table as he looks Boa right in the eyes, conveying that he is entirely open and not here to judge Boa’s story - and trust him, he’s probably heard worst. 

“Oh, thank you.” Relief gradually seeps into his posture as Boa steps into the room, eyes locked on the other man as he speaks, a comforting ease in his voice that invites him to sit down and Boa is more than happy to comply. By instinct and by habit, he finds himself inhaling deeply through his nose to scent,  both an effort at calming himself, scouting the environment and familiarizing himself with the investigator he’d planned on hiring. There’s a light, tickling floral in the air and as his gaze drifts over the furniture in the room it’s source is found swiftly; pots, vases of flowers placed with care around the space, a deliberate symmetry that still strikes him as natural, inviting. 

“… I’m still doing this, aren’t I?” He is purposeful and meticulously provident, gaze acute, ineludible, his nominal mania just a shimmering portraiture of a very …  special love, unbound in its plenteous captivity: their togetherness. His lips impart a smiling resplendence, soft but indicative, like he’d been juggling a private, personal joy. “You know …  I like when we both stand to gain something, Boa …  It ensures we’re both invested, especially in something as vital as our health.” 

There had been a distance, noted only by its erasure, his body encroaching with the knowledge of a breeze, behind his temporary instructor with a sinless mien. “Are you sure this is the most …  accurate example you could give me?” His touch brags about a certain intimacy, a palm straightening the other’s back, imitating a nice innocence donned earnestly. “It looked as though you were uneven. Maybe I was wrong, though.” He’s closely beside him and unquestioningly compliant, extending an outward stretch, hands atop his knees with a little drumroll to herald his victory, back slanted. “… Oh? I guess I’m a hypocrite.” His attempt to correct himself is indolent and singular, pursued by a willing concession. “Could you help me? It can be hard to get myself up.”

“Are you saying you’re not invested already?” It’s an exhaled disbelief, melodic in its teasing lilt, knowing and airy with amusement. Unfaltering in his composure, he inhales upon the other’s approach and allows a hum of appreciation as the familiar scent crowds heady around him. He revels in its sweetness while his body moves in a reflexive shift, instinctive in response to honeyed words - though their deceptive nature is far from lost on him. He’s being distracted. The curve of his smile speaks for itself in its indulgence, a roll of his eyes preceding another quiet burst of laughter before he’s fluid, in motion again.

The cold air suddenly filling his lungs serves a welcome respite as he steps out of the artificial warmth of his taxi, and into the snowy February cityscape. Spared a smile and a quick wave, the car pulls away to merge into traffic and abandon the sidewalk where he’s been left, a gnawing feeling in his stomach urging him to watch it until it’s gone. It’s anxiety, he knows; a looming threat that fails to manifest and provides no antagonist to oppose but himself. The building behind him feels tall, imposing in the sum of what it offers as it peers down on him where he stands below, fingers curled deep in his pockets, scratching at nothing.

Boa is in motion before his memories have a chance to pounce him, sidling past pedestrians and quickly slipping through the front door to look around, as if chased. As he beelines for the staircase at the end of the large reception, a melody seems to build in his chest, pushing up and out past parted lips in a tune meant to soothe - maybe it does, or maybe it’s the finality of seeing the door to one particular office that finally grounds him. Kim Shinwon, it says, and Boa exhales. The flashes of memories that had been snapping at his heels the entire way up seem to dissolve, dulling under the weight of his reignited resolve to fight them off. He has to know, Boa reminds himself, senses peaking to listen for movement as he knocks on the door, standing slightly ajar. He has to try.

“Hi, sorry, I’m a bit late for my appointment!” Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he chances a glance at the watch on his wrist — elegant, gifted by someone who loves him — and the reminder is enough to calm him further. Okay, not too bad. “About ten minutes, traffic was pretty heavy today.”

centered.

His routinely avoidance had veered that day, persuaded by early dawn as it would adorn the figurative and slumbering eden beside him. The beginning light inspired a very, very tender adulation, wherein his lips catered to the other’s skin like reminiscent phantoms regaling a silky and bodily altar, kisses barely grazing traces. His adoration had transitioned to eager complaisance. A vow murmured somewhere amidst the ear, into the neck, his head nestled top the other’s shoulder, sowing absentminded promises there. Something about mutual satisfaction …  His quiet and sweet reassurance almost like a charming invocation, warm …  Amiable good mornings, was he comfortable and was he awake? There were better things to be doing than sleeping, weren’t there … ?

It led him to the present, centered crisscrossed in their suite and attentive, though certainly not to the current demonstration. His amusement is subtle, though his subtleties seem to always loudly project, beguiled smirk only partially obscured by the hand he’d perch beneath his chin, head turned, observant. “You’re really into this, aren’t you … ? You know, when I said that we could do anything you wanted after, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” He winks, playful. “Though …  That isn’t to say that I do mind. I am actually deeply into spiritualism.” Something like that. “I’m very interested in learning about its physical medium, too.”

@feyboa

“You promised.” The words coil around a feigned vexation, unconvincing as they fall from a mouth twitching in an effort to restrain its subsisting smile. He’s stretching, if only lightly so, skin rising with small bumps in the cool air before he repositions his arms and holds. The burn is welcomed with a long sigh, a rumble from within his chest following the quick flutter of eyelashes before finally, the tension is released. An adjustment to his posture, the slow descent of his hands to their original place on top of his knees return him to his original position, and he savours the realignment, the totality.