Hello

It’s silent. Completely and utterly silent, the other boys staring at Jinu, and you in his arms, fast asleep as if nothing had happened.

“She—she was too fast, and she unlocked the front door—and I tried to stop her but she’s too strong, there’s a fucking dent in the wall from her pushing me out of the way, and then she was gone and when I found her it was too late,” he explains, his words coming faster and faster as he speaks. “and she was only alone for a minute at most, but—I was too late.”

“Fuck,” Romance groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Is she okay, though?”

Jinu shrugs helplessly, feeling completely and wildly out of control of the situation in a way he hates. “It was like she was in a trance, she didn’t seem to even see me, and as soon as she’d taken the soul she passed out.”

It’s quiet again as they all stare at your peacefully sleeping face, the soft purple patterns decorating your skin, making it impossible to forget what you are, what they did to you.

“…what are we gonna tell her?” Baby asks eventually, breaking the silence. “Y’know, if she doesn’t remember?”

Fuck. What are they going to tell you? Do they tell you the truth, break it to you that they messed up and you took someone’s soul? Or do they lie and pretend it never happened?

“She’ll never forgive us for letting her do this,” Romance murmurs.

“She’ll never forgive us for lying to her, either,” Jinu says, his voice hushed, trying not to wake you. “And I’m the one that messed up. It’s me she won’t forgive for letting her do this. If we lie, then you guys all get involved too. That’s not fair on any of you.”

You actually feel kind of fine, almost normal, when you wake up later that morning. Baby’s fingers, gently stroking the skin of your arm, halt when he realises you’re awake, and you scoff, still half-asleep, turning over to face him.

“You’re secretly a softy,” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. “You act like you’re sooo cool and don’t care about anything or anyone, but I know your secret.”

He blinks at you in surprise. That’s not what he was expecting you to say. His lips part, wanting to argue, but all that comes out is a half-sigh, half-laugh. “You’re right, princess,” he admits softly. “But if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Pfft. No, you won’t. You like me too much,” you say with a sleepy grin.

He hums his assent, but there’s something he wants to say, you can tell. Inhaling like he’s about to speak, then stopping, cautious, nervous about something.

“What’s up?” you ask, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at him properly. “What? Did something happen? …shit, did I do something?”

He takes a breath. “Yeah. You… did something.”

Your face pales, a hollow look filling your eyes, and he wishes he’d just kept his mouth shut, wishing he wasn’t the one picked to stay with you (“because he’s the least emotional and will be able to just tell her”, apparently). “W-what did I do?” you ask, twisting your fingers in the bedsheets, curling in on yourself slightly. “Did I—did I hurt someone?”

“Maybe Jinu should tell you what happened,” he says uncomfortably, moving as if to get out of bed, and you grab his wrist.

“No, please, Baby, just—please tell me?”

He sighs, searching your face for any sign of uncertainty, any sign that he can go and get Jinu instead, but he doesn’t find it. Just you, staring at him, looking scared and alone.

“You got out last night,” he says eventually, keeping his voice steady in an effort to make you feel better. “Jinu was with you, but he couldn’t get to you in time. He wasn’t fast enough to stop you from taking someone’s soul.”

And when he says that, you see it. You see what happened, clear as if it were happening right now. You see Jinu at the bottom of the stairs, the way you push him aside like a rag doll. You see the street in front of you as you leave the building, empty, streetlights flickering softly. You see the next street as you go around the corner, a drunk guy stumbling home from the bar trying to whistle at you and failing, grinning lecherously nevertheless. You see his smirk widen as you get closer, see him reaching out to touch you. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he opens his mouth to flirt with you, but he doesn’t get any further than that, because before he can say anything, you’re taking his soul.

The first time it had happened, you’d been so distraught by the man’s face, by what you’d done, too distraught to actually focus on what was happening. But this time you see it clearly: the way his face droops as you inhale a silvery mist, his body slumping as his soul leaves him, eventually just blinking out of existence, like he was never even there to begin with.

You can taste the soul. It’s bitter, beer weighing heavy on your tongue, the mild sweetness of soju cloying at the back of your throat. And then, as if nothing happened, you’re back in your bedroom, Baby looking at you with concern.

“Are you—,” he asks, but you interrupt him before he can get any further.

“I’m going to be sick,” you mumble, covering your mouth and scrambling to your bathroom. You throw up, mostly bile, but even the sour taste of that doesn’t mask the ghosts of beer and soju haunting your mouth.

Baby appears next to you, awkwardly patting your back and holding a glass of water, wordlessly handing it to you when you’re done. You swill the water around your mouth, trying to wash away what’s left, but you can still taste it, lingering, and you spit it into the sink with a grimace, trying again and again to rid your mouth of the taste.

Jinu hears you throw up. Knows that you’ve realised what happened, or that Baby told you, or maybe you just remembered by yourself. It doesn’t really matter how you know, but now you do know. Which means you know that he failed.

He failed at the one thing they were supposed to do, the one thing he was supposed to do. You’d been so, so clear about it from the beginning – you didn’t want to hurt anyone. Wanted them to do everything in their power to stop you from causing harm to anyone.

He replays the events of the night over and over and over again. He watches you leave the room as he sits there, not moving until you’re already gone. Sees the empty hallway, hears the click of the front door, and he isn’t fast enough to catch you. Watches you come down the stairs towards him, sees himself not being strong enough to stop you. Spends too long in the empty street, not trying hard enough to find you. Isn’t quick enough to stop you taking the soul.

Over and over again, he failed. He had so many chances to stop you, and every single time, he failed. You must hate him. He can’t blame you; he hates himself, too.

You feel oddly numb. Climbing back into bed, you curl up on your side, knees pulled to your chest in the fetal position, the duvet pulled up over your head, staring blankly ahead of you. Not seeing, not looking, not doing anything.

Baby crouches down by your bedside, pulling the duvet back a little, to make sure you can breathe, and he looks worried in a way you’re not used to seeing from him. His eyes search your face, looking for an answer that isn’t there.

When you still haven’t said anything or moved after twenty minutes, he starts to think that maybe he should go and get one of the others to help. He’s no good at this.

“Can you get Jinu?” you ask quietly, just before he’s about to move, and he nods before leaving the room.

“How is she?” Jinu asks Baby when he comes to get him, and Baby shrugs, but his face betrays how worried he is.

“I dunno. She’s not good. But—I mean, she’s just kind of lying there. Maybe she’s in shock, or something,” he says, and Jinu nods, the pit in his stomach growing ever deeper.

When he comes into your room, he closes the door softly and just stands there for a moment, fidgeting with fabric of his shirt, unsure of what to do, where to go. You’re facing away from him, but slowly you shuffle over, turning to face him, and from under the duvet, one of your hands reaches out towards him. That’s… not what he was expecting, but he hurries over, letting you pull him into bed, wrapping his arms around your curled-up figure.

“You tried to stop me,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and Jinu realises you must have remembered.

Slowly, the movement unsure, he nods. “I—yes. I tried. But I—I couldn’t do it. I failed you. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you mumble, and he’s sure he must have misheard you.

“What?”

“It’s not your fault,” you say again, slightly louder this time. “’s my fault. I made sure you couldn’t stop me. Pushed you away.”

“I—what? No, it’s—I should have tried harder—”

You shake your head against his chest. “Thank you. For trying.”

He blinks at the top of your head. This really isn’t what he was expecting.

“I’m—I’m sorry for not trying harder. For not doing better,” he says anyway. “How are you feeling?”

You’re quiet for a few seconds, then shrug sadly, the movement awkward and disjointed from your position in bed. “Like a monster.”

Jinu’s hands tighten around you, his thumbs stroking your spine softly.

“But also…” you continue. “I feel weirdly numb, I guess? I know I did it, I know it was me, but I don’t feel like it was me. I don’t remember doing it, but I saw it happen. But I feel detached from it, I guess. Does—does that make me a bad person? It does, right? Of course it does.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head quickly. “No, you’re not—you’re not a bad person. You could never be a bad person.”

You let out a quiet snort at that. “Uh, yeah, I could. I’ve been a bad person before and I’m sure I will be again.”

“When have you ever been a bad person?” he asks, genuinely unable to imagine it.

“In eighth grade,” you say. “I started a rumour about a girl in my class. She was nice – a little weird, but nice. There wasn’t any reason for me to do it, but I wanted the cool girls to like me. The rumour wasn’t terrible, but it also wasn’t nice, you know?”

He’s quiet, listening. Trying to imagine a younger you. “What was it?”

You sigh. “I said that her name brand clothes were fake. That her mom sewed the tags in to make them look real. It’s so dumb, looking back,” you laugh bitterly. “Like, who cares? But we did back then, I guess. She cried. I felt really bad, but I still didn’t say anything.”

“That’s your measure for being a bad person?” he asks, half a smile on his face.

“Well, yeah,” you shrug. “I did something even though I knew it was going to hurt someone else, someone who didn’t deserve to get hurt.”

Jinu hums, contemplatively, pretending he’s not being overwhelmed with shame. Thinks about all the things he’s done even though he knew they were going to hurt someone else. All the things he’s done that he knew were going to hurt you.

“I don’t want to be a bad person,” you say softly. “But it feels inevitable. I have to take souls, right? What happens if I don’t?”

“If you don’t, he’ll kill you,” Jinu says, his arms tightening slightly around you, as if he can protect you from Gwi-Ma’s wrath. “He’ll warn you, though. If you’re taking too long.”

You let out a groan. Of course. Anything else would be far too easy to deal with. Better have the threat of death looming over you at any given time. Your newest victim’s face flashes in your mind’s eye, the way he grinned at you, reaching out to try and touch you, and you barely suppress a shudder.

“Does it get easier?” you ask.

“Do you want it to get easier?”

“Not really.”

If it gets easier then it means you’re getting used to it. That you’re learning not to care.

You don’t ever want to not care.

And yet here you are. Not even shedding a tear over what you did. In fact, it was ruthless, the way you took that soul. You didn’t even give that man a chance to fight back. That’s what I like to see. You should be proud of yourself – it takes some demons years to grow so numb to their actions.

I wonder who the next one will be?

You try to ignore the voice as best you can, ignore the churning in your stomach, the taste of rot in your mouth. You need to do something, distract yourself somehow, suddenly feeling restless.

“Can we watch something?” you ask Jinu, wriggling out of his grip and sitting up. “Wait, I have an idea. Let’s watch a movie and play a drinking game.”

“Right now?” Jinu asks, with a bemused expression. “It’s not even 11am.”

“And? What’s your point?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Nothing, I just—yeah, sure. If that’s what you want to do.”

You’re going to be sat wallowing in guilt and shame regardless of what you’re doing, so you might as well get drunk. It’s either going to make you feel better or worse, but anything is better than the apathetic state you’re in at the moment.

Ten minutes later, you’re sat on the couch between Romance and Mystery, the other boys scattered around the living room, with multiple bottles of vodka on the table and Shrek 2 loaded on the TV.

“I can’t believe you guys have never seen Shrek,” you muse. “We’re gonna have to make a list of all the things you need to watch. Anyway, the rules are: take a drink any time someone says ‘Shrek’, ‘Donkey’ or ‘ogre’, any time there’s a pop culture reference, although I guess you’ll have to rely on me for that one, any time Puss in Boots does something cute or especially cat-like, and I’ll add more as we go. You all got that?”

Baby, sprawled in an armchair, raises an eyebrow. “You remember that it takes a lot more for us to get drunk, right?”

“Oh, trust me,” you smile sweetly. “This’ll get the job done.”

“Shouldn’t we watch the first one first?” Abby asks with a frown, and you shrug.

“Maybe, but everyone knows the second is the best one. Now, are you all done questioning me?” you ask pointedly. “Good.”

Following the rules religiously means that it doesn’t take long for you all to start feeling the effects of your drinks. Oddly enough, it’s slightly different, being tipsy as a demon. Whilst as a human, drinking would dull your senses, as a demon it makes some senses stronger, sharper.

Your fingers absentmindedly drag over the fabric of the couch, back and forth, back and forth as you try to focus on the movie. “Drink!” you say, talking a little louder than you mean to, pointing at the screen. “That’s a reference.”

“I feel like you’re making some of this up, darling,” Romance accuses, taking a sip of his drink regardless, and you frown.

“Uh, no? That’s literally Justin Timberlake,” you say, googling him to show Romance a picture. “See?”

As you show him your phone, you lean towards him, your shoulder bumping his, and, wow, he smells nice. They all do, actually, their scents seeming stronger than usual. Before you can get any closer to Rome, though, Mystery grabs hold of your arm, pulling you back towards him, and you go easily, resting your head on his shoulder. When Romance pouts, you can’t help but grin.

“Aw, are you guys fighting over me?” you ask, feeling smug.

Jinu snorts from his spot, eyeing the three of you. “Obviously.”

“We’re always fighting over you,” Mystery says, shrugging. “All of us.”

For some reason, that gets you blushing. Despite the fact that you know of their feelings towards you, the straight-up acknowledgement that they all want your attention, all want to be close to you, it sends the butterflies in your stomach in a tizzy, and you try to hide your face behind your glass.

“Do you like it?” Baby asks nonchalantly, glancing from the TV screen to you, as if he hasn’t spent the past ten minutes watching you and not the movie. “That we fight over you?”

“Obviously,” you say, repeating Jinu’s answer.

The boys all freeze. It’s the first time that you’ve alluded to your feelings towards them since coming back. Sure, you’ve flirted with them, and there was that whole conversation about the third rule that dissolved into you crying and them all telling you they love you, but you haven’t actually verbally mentioned how you feel about them.

“You still owe me a truth,” Mystery says, breaking the silence, and you nod, sitting up properly again so you can face him. “How do you feel about us, now?”

Huh. Your head tilts slightly as you think about it, looking at him, looking at all of them. How do you feel about them, now?

Your gut instinct is to say that it’s complicated. But maybe it isn’t, not really.

“I’m angry with you all, but I also like you all,” you shrug. Because that’s all it boils down to, really. Anger and hurt mixed with warmth and happiness and safety. And something else, too, something that you don’t want to name. Not yet.

“How much do you like us?” Romance purrs, asking the question they’re all thinking.

You roll your eyes. “A lot. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s a good answer, but it still doesn’t tell them what they actually want to know.

“Do you—”

“Oh my God, you guys are so fucking dense,” you say, interrupting Jinu before he can get any further with his question. “Yeah, my feelings towards you all are mixed, you literally kidnapped me and held me prisoner for nearly a year. You completely fucked my life up. You completely fucked me up. But I obviously also like you guys a lot. Yes, in the way that you want me to like you. Why else would I have made rule three? Or asked if you guys still liked me? I don’t know how many more signals I can give you.”

They all stare at you.

“We all need to take, like, five drinks, by the way. We missed a bunch of shit,” you say, nodding towards the TV.

“Wait, for real?” Abby asks, eyes still glued to your face.

“Uh, yeah? There was at least one reference, and I’m pretty sure they said Shrek and Donkey a couple times.”

“No, he means, what you said about your feelings,” Romance interjects. “Do you mean it?”

“I mean, yeah?” you say, looking at him quizzically. “Fuck, it’s not surprising that it took ten months for just one of you to kiss me.”

Abby goes pink, and they’re all silent, still staring at you.

“If you guys keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna leave,” you mutter into your drink. You like their attention, sure, but after a while having all five of them looking at you like this starts to make you feel a little self-conscious.

When you say that, Mystery grabs you and pulls you close again, this time pulling you onto his lap, his hands tight on your hips, and it’s like that movement flips the switch for the others as well. Before any of them can get too close, though, your vision is filled with the faces of the men whose souls you took, the look of fear on the first man’s face, the way the man last night slumped, his face drooping, and you see the two of them over and over until their faces blend together as one and you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe—

Your vision clears, and you’re back in the living room, sucking in short, quick breaths, staring at the floor. The boys are all frozen in place, except Mystery, who has his arms wrapped around you and is murmuring to you quietly, telling you it’s okay, that you’re here with them, that they’ve got you, that he’s got you.

“I—I need some air,” you manage to say, pulling yourself free from Mystery’s arms and standing up shakily. “I’m—I’m gonna go out to the pool.”

You hurry down the hall, but when you get to the front door, it’s locked, and you have a nauseating sense of déjà vu as you stare at it. Suddenly Baby is next to you, unlocking it, and you didn’t even hear him come up behind you but here he is, and you managed to unlock it last night so why don’t you know how to now?

By the time you get outside, your whole body is trembling, but the fresh air feels good. It’s brighter than you’re expecting, you’d forgotten that it was barely even midday. Looking out over the city, you clutch the guardrail, your knuckles white from how tightly you’re holding on, and you just feel so empty and numb.

What are you doing?

Last night you killed a man, and now you’re, what, trying to get the guys to kiss you?

Baby lights a cigarette, watching you stand there, and you laugh bitterly.

“Looks like you were right,” you say. “About me freaking out.”

He shrugs. “I dunno about that. Are you freaking out ‘cause you told us you like us, or ‘cause you took a guy’s soul?”

“Both?” you sigh. “Actually, it’s not even because I told you I like you, I think it’s because I took a guy’s soul and then I was trying to get you guys to kiss me. I feel like the me liking you all part is the least interesting thing, here.”

Baby hums. “You know, you don’t have to try to get us to kiss you.”

You snort, turning to face him properly, the railing at your back. “Uh, yeah, clearly I do. Otherwise, why haven’t any of you kissed me? Except Abby, but that was before.”

“Well, first, we didn’t want to scare you away when you’d only just gotten back and you were a brand new baby demon, so, there’s that,” he says, like it’s obvious, which you guess it kind of is. “And then you haven’t exactly been in the right state of mind for any of us to try anything. Until today, I guess.”

“Huh. I guess that’s fair,” you say, and he looks smug. “You know, I still have the sweater you gave me, when we came out here that one time.”

“You do?” he asks, looking genuinely surprised, and you nod.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It was comforting, I guess. And you’d never given me anything before.”

He thinks about that for a moment, taking a last drag of his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray, the one he’d brought out after you’d complained about him littering, all those months ago.

You watch the way the smoke clings to the wind as he exhales, and then he takes a step towards you, and then another, and another, until he’s right in front of you. His eyes trail over your face, waiting just a second, giving you a chance to back out.

When you don’t take it, one hand cups your face and the other settles on your waist, pulling you closer, and then he’s kissing you. He’s surprisingly gentle, his lips soft against yours, and he tastes faintly like cigarettes and peppermint. You’re purring, and the two of you realise it at the same time, and you can feel his lips curl into a smug smile, and any other time you’d call him a dick for being smug but right now you don’t really care.

He pulls away slowly, kissing you again, once, twice, then grins at you.

“There,” he says, shrugging. “Now I’ve given you two things.”

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When he gets a little too close to you, you bolt. Abby waits by the front door in case you go that way, but you don’t. You’re not looking to get out of the apartment; you’re just looking to hide. The whole place feels unfamiliar, filled with strange sounds and smells, and you dart from room to room but nowhere feels safe enough to hide. Eventually, you end up in a storage room of some kind, tucked away behind boxes and clothes.

The boys track you, making sure not to get too close, not wanting to spook you. It doesn’t make a difference, though, you can hear them no matter where they are, can hear their footsteps getting closer, hear their hearts beating and blood pumping.

They stop when they hear you crying. Stifled sobs, your face buried in your hands because you still don’t want them to hear you, don’t want them to find you, and you feel so alone and so frightened. They did this to you. They made you feel this way.

“She’s scared,” Jinu says, and he’s never hated himself more than in this moment, listening to your soft, scared crying. “Doesn’t know where she is or what’s going on.”

Baby chews the inside of his cheek, weighing the options of staying quiet and keeping his secrets, or being vulnerable and telling them what he knows. It was never going to be a hard decision, though. Not when you’re involved. Not when he can help.

“One of us should sleep with her every night,” he says eventually. “Not like that, just, y’know, in bed with her. Doesn’t matter who, just someone familiar. It… it helps.”

The others stare at him. “What do you mean, it helps?” Romance asks carefully, and Baby scowls.

“It just does, okay? Trust me. Makes it easier to remember where you are, who you are,” he mutters, not looking any of them in the eyes.

“You didn’t think to mention this earlier?” Abby snaps, and all it takes is Baby flipping him off for it to turn into a full-blown fight between the two of them, shoving and punching and swearing. They knock into a picture hanging on the wall, and it falls to the ground with a loud clatter, and over the noise they hear a shaky gasp, your heart picking up speed again. With sinking hearts, they realise that they made it worse, scared you again, and they silently sit down with the others again, filled with shame.

“Look, I—I had someone helping me,” Baby says eventually, staring at his hands as he talks. “That’s how I know. But it’s—it’s hard to remember these things until I see them happening. If I remember something, I’ll tell you guys, okay?”

“Okay,” Jinu nods, before Abby or Romance can start questioning Baby the way they clearly want to do. “One of us will stay with her at night. Only one, though, too many might get overwhelming.”

You spend most of the day there, tucked away in the storage room, eventually falling asleep mid-afternoon. Abby teleports you back to your room, not wanting to disturb you any more than necessary, and Jinu very begrudgingly lets him be the one to stay with you. It really does help – you have a brief moment of panic when you wake up a couple hours later, but when you register that it’s Abby you’re curled up against, you relax slightly. You’re still scared, jumpy, but now you’re not alone. Abby murmurs quiet reassurances to you, repeating your name over and over, reminding you who you are. It helps.

Meanwhile, the other four wallow in their guilt and shame. At least Abby is helping you right now, but the others? They’re useless.

Every single day it hits them, hits all of them, that they drove you to this. They drove you to make a decision they never, ever wanted you to even be aware of. And now your life has been irrevocably changed, you’ve been irrevocably changed.

They see the panic and fear in your eyes when you hiss at them for coming too close, and know that they did this. They see the hatred and anger within you when you scream at them for not letting you out, and know that they did this. They see the sorrow and grief in your moments of lucidity, and know that they did this. And they hate themselves for it.

You wake up with Mystery’s arm wrapped around your waist, heavy, trapping you, and instead of doing what a normal person would do and just pushing his arm off, you bring it up to your mouth and bite him. Not a little nip, either, a proper chomp, your fangs breaking the skin easily, and he yanks his arm away from you with a string of expletives.

“What the hell was that for?” he asks you, inspecting the bite with a frown. Not that he’s opposed to a little biting, because, let’s be real: Mystery loves biting. He isn’t opposed to being used like a chew toy. But still, there are more pleasant ways to be woken up.

You shrug wordlessly, the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, and his blood is smeared across your bottom lip, your eyes sparkling mischievously. He can’t stay annoyed with you, even with the throbbing ache in his arm, not when you’re looking up at him like that, and especially not when your tongue darts out, licking away the blood left on your lips. He’s never wanted to kiss you so badly, and his arm isn’t the only thing throbbing anymore, but he—he can’t, not when you’re like this. You’re still grinning, just a little, and he’s 99% sure you’re doing this on purpose, wanting to get a rise out of him.

Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t.

You are feeling especially bite-y today. You go and search Baby out, finding him and Abby playing a video game on the couch, and you clamber onto his lap with a pleased hum, your head resting on his shoulder. After a few minutes of sitting there and watching them play, you’re bored, so, naturally, you lean down and bite his shoulder. Wrinkling your nose at the feeling of his sweater in your mouth, you pull away to find him looking wholly unimpressed with you.

“Really?” he asks you, one eyebrow raised. Tugging his sweater to the side to inspect the damage, he rolls his eyes. “I don’t think you even broke the skin.”

Fine. You grab his hand instead and bite the fleshy part under his thumb, and this time you definitely break the skin, the taste of his blood on your tongue.

“Ah, fuck, princess!” Baby hisses, trying to pull his hand back but you won’t let go. Grabbing your face with his other hand, he squeezes your cheeks until you let go, pouting at him for ruining your fun. Still holding you there, he frowns at you. “Behave.”

You huff, wriggling out of his grip and slinking off his lap. Boo. He’s no fun. Whatever, there are still three other boys left for you to bite. You’ll come back to Abby later – if you try now, he’ll be expecting it, and half the fun is catching them when they least expect it.

Jinu is reading in his room, and when you come in, he looks up, squinting at your face. “Is that blood?”

You wipe it off your lips, shrugging, and he hums, not entirely pleased with that as an answer, but he’s not going to push you. Instead, he lifts an arm as an invitation to sit, leaning into his side, eyes back on his book. You don’t even hesitate, this time, darting over and immediately biting down hard on his bicep, feeling the muscle flex under his skin as he pulls his arm away from you with a growl, immediately flipping you over, and you don’t know what you’re expecting but it definitely isn’t the feeling of his fangs sinking into the back of your neck. You try to get out of his grip, struggling against him, and you realise he’s scruffing you like a kitten, putting you in your place. When you stop wriggling, he slowly lets go, guilt welling up inside him when he sees the beads of blood gathering. He—he didn’t mean to hurt you, he just needed to remind you who he is, and he loves you but it’s been a long fucking week, but, fuck, now he’s actually hurt you, made you bleed.

“Shit, I’m sorry, love, I didn’t—I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry,” he rambles, but you’re not actually particularly upset. You bit him, he bit you.

“Even,” you say, nodding at the bite on his arm with a smile, and he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he says, brushing your hair aside to look at the mark on the nape of your neck again, and you shiver at the feeling.

No! You’re getting distracted. You have more biting to do. With a sigh and a wave, you leave his room, already listening out for Romance.

You can’t hear him at first, only the sound of a shower running, and then muffled under that you hear him, hear his heart beating, and you grin. If you couldn’t hear him without trying, he shouldn’t be able to hear you, either.

You creep into his bathroom, staying as light on your feet as possible. The air is thick with steam from the heat of the shower, but you can see him. His back is to you as he washes his hair, and any second you wait is another second he might realise you’re there, so you pounce on him, clinging to him as you bite his shoulder. Not the one you’ve already bitten, that would be mean – you bite the other one, so now he has matching symmetrical bite marks on each shoulder.

He lets out a squeak as you grab him, hands flying to cover his nether region as he realises what’s going on.

“Angel!” he exclaims, hands still firmly in place as he tries to shake you off. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to see him, he’s actually very proud of his dick, but he doesn’t trust you right now. His hands are there for his protection. “As much as I love a little bite here and there, would you mind letting go of me? I need to rinse the conditioner out; it’s going to get in your mouth if you stay there.”

Poor Romance is one wrong (or right) move away from combusting. He’s naked in the shower, with you practically hugging him, and your mouth on him. He’s had dreams about this. Well, maybe not with you being fully clothed and clinging to his back like a gremlin. But the other parts for sure.

The only reason he’s being so chill about this is because he knows you’re going to be embarrassed about it whenever you’re next feeling more like yourself, and he doesn’t want to make it any worse. You jump down from his back, already bored with his lack of reaction, and just as quickly as you appeared, you’re gone again.

It takes Romance a while to finish his shower, after that.

The only one left now is Abby. You’re soaked through from the shower, but it doesn’t bother you for now, so you make your way back to the living room, leaving a trail of water behind you.

Abby and Baby are still playing their game, but now Jinu and Mystery are there as well, Jinu typing away at his laptop and Mystery watching the other two game. They all glance at you when you come in, each doing a double take when they realise the state you’re in.

“Why are you so wet?” Jinu asks, looking perplexed, and you shrug.

“Bet you wish you were asking that in a different context,” Baby snorts, looking over his shoulder at Jinu, who scowls at him, before looking back over at you. “No, seriously, though. Why are you so wet?”

“Shower,” you say by way of an explanation, trying to casually look at Abby to find the best method of attack. Unfortunately, Abby is already looking right at you, and meets your eyes with a knowing smirk.

“You gonna try and bite me, now?” he asks, grinning, and you nod, eyes gleaming. “A’ight. I’m not gonna make it easy for you though.”

Dropping the controller on the couch, he stands up and stretches, his eyes never leaving yours. “Well?” he asks, beckoning you. “What’re you waiting for?”

You stare at him for a second. Then another. Then you lunge at him, your hands grasping the air where he was just standing, and you let out a growl when you realise he’s gone, instinctively tracking and racing after him. The split-second headstart he got isn’t enough for him to get very far, and you’ve caught up to him within seconds, snarling as you grab him. He isn’t giving up, though, fending you off with well-timed pushes and dodges, reluctant to actually hurt you. Despite his best efforts, though, it takes you less than a minute to find an opportunity to strike, and you manage to latch your teeth onto his calf.

“Ow! Fuck, I didn’t think it was going to hurt that much,” he whines, trying to shake you off his leg before eventually prying your jaw open himself and releasing himself from your bite. “You’re a menace, babygirl, you know that?”

“Yep!” you say, beaming at him, pleased to have bitten them all now and gotten it out of your system. Unfortunately for the boys, though, you’re not done being a menace. Not yet anyway.

You follow Abby back to the living room, where the others eye the bite mark on his leg with amusement. You’re about to sit down when you realise you still have the wet clothes on, and after glaring at the offending garments for a moment, you pull your sleep shirt and sweatpants off, leaving you in just a sports bra and underwear, which are also damp, but you have just about enough common sense left to not take those off as well.

“…what are you doing?” Jinu asks you, his voice careful, measured, and you shrug.

“My clothes were wet. From biting Romance.”

“From… wait, was Rome in the shower when you bit him?” Baby interjects, and you nod. “Damn. Is he still alive? Or did he pass out from all the blood flowing to his dick?”

“He was alive when I left,” you impassively as you try to decide where to sit, eventually climbing over the back of the couch to sit between Baby and Abby again. The two boys eye you warily, which is fair enough, considering last time you sat here you bit Baby without any warning. Still. You’re not planning on biting them again.

What you do do, however, is start poking at the fresh bite mark on Abby’s calf. Without looking at you, he grabs your hand with a grunt and moves it away from the wound. After a few seconds, you go back to poking and prodding, and this time he (very, very gently) slaps your hand away.

“Quit it,” he mutters. As if the fact that you’re just sat there in your underwear wasn’t torture enough, now you’re also actively messing with the injury you caused him. It’s not even 10am yet, and you already seem intent on causing chaos.

By midday, you’ve bitten each of them again (including Romance, who left the shower over an hour after you left him), and you’re getting antsy. You’ve broken three glasses by pushing them off surfaces, and you’ve thrown one cushion at Jinu (who caught it without even looking) and two at Mystery (who not only caught them but also threw them back at you at full speed). You’ve been bitten three times by Romance and twice by Baby. On the plus side (or downside, if you ask any of the boys), you’re dressed again now.

Still. Everyone’s patience is wearing thin.

You’re curled up on Jinu’s lap when he tries to (admittedly, gently) move you slightly, and you reflexively lash out at the unwanted movement, snarling and grabbing at his arm, your claws catching on the puncture marks from your fangs. His eyes flash gold as he lets out a pained growl, and suddenly he has you on your front, pinned to the ground, hands twisted behind your back and held in his grip as he snarls in your ear, low and threatening.

“No more FUCKING biting or scratching.”

He lets go of you with an exasperated huff, and you’re quiet, pouting a little. You’re not doing it on purpose. Well, okay, you are. But still.

You get up off the ground, wanting to slink off to your room, tail between your legs, but Jinu grabs you again before you can get too far, pulling you back into his lap. You growl at him, but he ignores your weak protests, firmly keeping you where you are.

“Nope, you’re staying here,” he tells you, raking his fingers through your hair. “I was just repositioning, that’s all. I didn’t want you to leave.”

You grumble a little, and his fingers twist around your hair and grab, tugging once. You scowl at him, but you’re quiet, not complaining anymore, and he goes back to gently playing with your hair, the hint of a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Asshole, you think, but he’s nice and warm, and he smells good, and before long you’re purring quietly, eyes fluttering closed.

When you next wake up, it’s the middle of the night. Jinu is awake next to you, reading, and without saying a word, you get up and leave the room.

“Shit,” he mumbles, teleporting into the hallway, but he already can’t see you. The front door is locked, though, so you should be around here somewhere, and he can hear you, sense you, somewhere within the apartment.

But then there’s a soft click, and he starts running. That’s the sound of the front door unlocking. It only takes him seconds to get there, but you’re nowhere to be found.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, sprinting into the stairwell, and you’re already almost at the bottom. He teleports down, ready to do whatever he has to do to stop you from going outside. But when you get to the bottom of the stairs, it’s like you’re in a trance. You’re looking straight through him as you push him so hard that he flies back and hits the wall, and holy fuck, he hadn’t realised you were that strong. When he picks himself up off the floor, you’re gone again.

Bursting out into the street, he looks around, desperate to see you, or even just get a sense of where you are. You can’t have gone far, surely, but every second that he stands there trying to figure out where you are is another second for you to get further away, or for you to find a victim.

After focusing for a split-second, he hears you. You’re not far, only around the corner, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he hurries down the street.

He rounds the corner just in time to see you finish inhaling a soul, the body it had belonged to already erased from existence.

TAGLIST: @lilliesofthevalley8 @jaams-backpack @andromeda-gay @julia-loves-cupcakes @animetrashandotheraesthetics @ireadmorethantalk @bungee-gal @444errorr @ragegarage @otherworldlystriderstranger @slytherincookiemonster @thatwriter765 @bluerose-romantique @i-d-k-p-o-s-t @ch3rryjampi3 @toffeee28 @skylar36 @crazydreamcat @ichronicallyonline @captain-ponytail @herondale-lightworm @voidborn1 @butterfly-giggles @funnygirlthatgab @wonderfullystaticfate @grey-shadow6475 @andrea25434 @unholyhymns @lostsomewhereinthegarden @calmmell @placeofsupercooltopics @rainbowdoctor @winter-solstice24 @shitphobe420blazeit @lolabunnymeetsdc @dumbbitch137 @calmmell @golbincat @ccason93 @churrodreams @larken142536 @hurtbywhisperedmuses @ninacatk @beary-kalkus @firedrakegirl @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @nacihe @nyanahogini @vipxl @teriolan-blog @tiger-lilee-5 @lily-5 @makeup-n-turtles @tiredly101 @spookiequeen21

Everything is too bright, colours are too sharp, too saturated, and you squint against the light. Your room is too big, too open, doesn’t feel safe, you need to get somewhere safe, now. Without even thinking about what you’re doing, you scramble out of bed and into your closet, shoving some things out to make space for you to curl up.

There are some blankets in here, a couple you made, the one Mystery made, and you wrap those around yourself, inhaling the familiar scent with a pleased hum. This is good. This is better. It’s nice and dark in the closet, and it feels safe, secluded. You still don’t feel right, but you don’t feel quite as wrong, at least.

Now that you’re not as stressed, you’re noticing other things. You can hear all of the boys, individually, and you can tell what they’re doing from their movements. You could hear them before, but not like this, not as crisp and clear as you can now. Jinu is in his room, and you can hear the soft sounds of fabric rustling against skin as he gets dressed. Baby is smoking out of his bedroom window, his quiet inhales and exhales, even the crackling of the cigarette burning audible to your sensitive ears. Abby is in the gym, listening to music as he runs on the treadmill, the thumping of his shoes steady and repetitive. Romance is showering, and you can hear each individual drop of water hitting the ground, hear his hand sliding across his skin as he rubs body wash into his skin. Mystery is—

Mystery is outside your door. He’s crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, back against the wall as he listens to your movements, and you freeze, heart thumping wildly. You can hear his hair move, brushing against the collar of his shirt as he cocks his head, the way the floor underneath him shifts as he stands up, his hand on your door handle, nononono, you don’t want him in here, don’t want any of them in here, this is your space, YOURS. He’s in your room now, getting closer, and you’re pressed up against the back of the closet, eyes wild, heart pounding.

“Pet?” he asks, reaching for the closet door. “It’s started, hasn’t it—”

He doesn’t get any further than that before you’re swiping at him, claws sharp, hissing and spitting at him like a feral cat.

“Get out!” you hiss, snarling at him, fangs bared, and he sighs, looking at you sorrowfully, apologetically. “GetoutgetoutgetoutGETOUTGETOUT!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he raises his hands, trying to show you he doesn’t mean any harm, but you don’t care. “I’ll be here if you need me, though.”

Outside your room, Mystery stops dead in his tracks.

You were topless. Fuck. He—he shouldn’t have—fuck. Not that he saw much, you had the blankets around you – one of them being the blanket he made, which makes him blush – but still, it’s the principle. He didn’t mean to. He’ll have to tell you when—when you’re feeling more like yourself again. He’ll apologise.

The other four boys have joined him outside your room, having heard your voice, the edge to it, and they know, too. It’s started.

“Is she okay?” Abby asks, looking miserable, and Mystery shrugs half-heartedly.

“No.”

Baby stares at your door for a second. “I’m going in.”

“What?! No, you heard her with Myst—” Jinu tries to argue, but it’s too late. Baby’s already opening your door and walking in.

“GET OUT!” you shriek from the closet, but it doesn’t deter him, he just keeps walking in a steady beeline towards you. The sound you make when he opens the closet door isn’t human, it’s otherworldly, somewhere between a scream and a screech, angry and scared, a sound made to stop others from getting too close.

It doesn’t work. Baby, without even blinking, screeches back at you, just as loud. Then, whilst you’re too stunned to stop him, he climbs into the closet with you, pulling you into his arms. Your arms are pinned between your bodies, and he has his legs wrapped around the blankets you’re wrapped in, his ankles locked together so you can’t just throw him off.

For a few seconds, everything is silent.

“Get OFF,” you spit, desperately trying to loosen his hold on you, writhing and wriggling in his grip, but it’s not working.

You’re debating trying to bite him when he leans his face into the crook of your neck, and says “Cuddling.”

This—this isn’t cuddling. You growl at him, trying with renewed vigour to shake him off, but he just tightens his grip.

“No,” he says into your neck simply. “Relax. Cuddling is good.”

You’re about to snarl at him that this isn’t fucking cuddling when you take a breath and you feel it. His skin against yours.

Oh.

Okay.

Maybe this is good.

For the first time since you got up (which admittedly, wasn’t very long ago), your body feels… calmer. The itchiness is still there, but it’s not as bad, and you realise that Baby smells right. So many things smell wrong, but Baby’s scent is right, and as he breathes into your neck, enveloping you with his scent, you start to relax, just a little bit.

Baby, meanwhile, is trying very, very hard not to think about the fact that you’re topless right now. He knows what this is like, the second phase, they all do, but the others went through it alone. Baby didn’t. He knows what helped him and what didn’t. He’s never told the others that, not wanting to deal with the questions that would arise, but if he can help you get through this, he will.

Your heart is still thrumming, sounding like a panicked little bird, but it’s getting slower. Carefully, ready to reassume his position if he feels like you’re going to attack him, Baby loosens his hands from around you and starts playing with your hair, dragging his claws across your scalp, and you sigh, your head drooping, and it feels nice.

You’re purring. You haven’t realised, but Baby has, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. And, yeah, let’s be honest, he’s feeling smug as fuck right now.

The other boys, still in the hallway outside your room, are all scowling as they listen to you purr. Romance pouts, then sighs. “Fuck it. I’m going in.”

He’s barely even stepped foot into your room when your body tenses up, the purring turning into a low, rumbling growl. “OUT,” you hiss, freeing your arms from Baby’s grip and throwing the closest thing you can grab at Romance.

The balled-up pair of socks bounces off his forehead. “Are you sure, darling? I—”

“OUT!”

With an apologetic glance back at you, Romance leaves, and you pull your arms back into your blanket cocoon, wriggling until Baby gives you enough space to pull your knees up to your chest, forehead resting on your knees. When you’re settled again, he wraps his arms back around you.

“Feel wrong,” you mumble, and Baby’s heart clenches.

“I know, princess.”

“…not human.”

“No,” he says softly. “You’re not. Not anymore.”

You sit like that for a while, until suddenly, with no warning, you feel like you’re going to explode if Baby’s around you any longer. He notices immediately, notices the way you tense up and start growling, fangs bared, eyes golden, glaring at him, and he just shrugs, untangles himself from around you, and leaves. When he’s gone, it’s one less stressor, but things still aren’t right, you can’t get comfy anymore, and suddenly the closet feels claustrophobic, like it’s suffocating you, and you scramble out, leaving the blankets behind.

You need to go somewhere else, somewhere new and safe and clean, no smells, no nothing, and you wind up sitting in the shower with it turned on full blast at the hottest setting. Your knees are pulled to your chest again, arms wrapped tightly around your legs as you stare at the wall, barely registering the way the water hits your skin, relentless, the air thick with steam.

The boys are still in the hallway outside your door. You can still hear them. Every so often one of them leaves, but they always come back.

Hours pass with you sitting there in the shower, and then, like a switch is flipped, you’re too warm, so you turn the shower to the coldest setting, but it’s ruined, the shower doesn’t feel right anymore, and you turn it off with a frustrated growl.

Fuck.

You need to be outside. Not cooped up inside, caught like a rabbit in a trap. You need space and air and—and—

—and you need to inflict damage. You need to hurt someone, something. Your hands are tingling with the urge, and you still can’t teleport but that’s okay, the apartment is in a busy area, you can just walk out the door and find a victim. You’re starting to feel giddy with exhilaration, just about remembering to put some clothes on (despite the way the fabric scratches at your skin), and you don’t even care anymore that the boys are sat right outside your door, you just want to get out.

You’re quiet, stealthy. You know they’re listening to you, so you minimise your movements as you make your way to your door, planning to open it just enough to dash out before they can catch you. You’re fast. You’ll be outside within seconds.

Crouched by your door, you wait, listening. Abby and Jinu are standing, leant against the wall, talking about you, Romance is… laid down, you think, from the sounds of his clothes against the floor, and Baby and Mystery are sat down, playing a card game. Perfect. They’re all distracted.

Without waiting a second longer, you open the door and dart out.

“Shit,” Romance mutters, scrambling to his feet, Abby and Jinu already after you. The front door is locked as a precaution, and you glare at it for a second before slamming against it with your shoulder, grinning when you hear the wood splintering.

You’re so focused on the door, though, that you don’t register Mystery sprinting towards you. He’s light on his feet, quieter than Jinu and Abby, the noise of their footsteps covering his, and you’re not expecting it when he crashes into you. The force of his body against yours is just what the lock needs to fully splinter, the door swinging open, and you’re suddenly pinned to the ground under Mystery.

You stare at him for a second, and then you’re thrashing about, desperately trying to pull your wrists from his grip, twisting and turning and tugging.

“Get—off—me!” you snarl, managing to get one hand free and swiping at Mystery’s face, and when you see blood on your claws, a sick thrill goes through you. That’s what you wanted.

Before either of you can react, the others are there too, each boy holding an arm or a leg, trapping you in their grasps. You squirm and growl and hiss and spit, but nothing is working, and after a few minutes your movements slow, your breathing evening out.

“Are… are you okay?” Abby asks gently, and his grip on your arm loosens ever so slightly as he watches you calm down. Without thinking, you lash out at him, claws digging into his arm, and he lets out a hiss of pain. “Fuck, babygirl. You’ve got some sharp claws on you.”

“Let me—fucking—GO!” you screech, his other hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, prying your claws out of his arm.

“No can do, babygirl,” he grins, and you glower at him, quietly seething. He doesn’t budge, though. None of them do.

This time, when your breathing calms down, it’s real. You don’t say anything, though. You just lay there on the floor, pinned down, staring at the ceiling, and slowly, you slip into sleep.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed again. Soft. Warm. Feels better than it did this morning. Something is different, more comforting, and you jolt when you realise Jinu is sat at your desk, reading. He looks up at the movement, giving you a tentative smile.

“Hey,” he says softly. “How are you feeling?”

Jinu.

Jinu is… warm. Safe.

You want him here, in bed with you, but you don’t know how to vocalise it, just letting out a small frustrated huff instead.

“Oh, I brought you a drink, and some food,” he says, gesturing to a plate and glass on your desk, but you shake your head, wrinkling your nose. You’re not hungry. “Okay. Well, it’s there if you want it.”

When he still doesn’t get the picture about what it is you want, you get out of bed with a small scowl, your duvet wrapped around your shoulders like a cape, and climb into his lap. He’s quiet, not moving, like he doesn’t want to scare you, but this still isn’t right; you can’t get comfy, and you whine in dissatisfaction.

“Bed might be comfier,” Jinu murmurs, and you nod eagerly. He picks you up, carefully carrying you those couple feet to your bed, and he’s barely even put you down when you grab his arm and tug him into the bed with you. His movements are hesitant, unsure, but as you curl up and tuck yourself against his front, he starts to relax, draping an arm around you and tracing patterns on your back.

You hum happily. You feel better now, and you realise that you’re purring, but it doesn’t surprise you. It feels right.

“Is this better?” Jinu asks quietly, and you let out a content hum in response.

“…smell good,” you mumble. “Safe.”

And, God, how is Jinu ever meant to let go of you now? You’re his, you’re theirs, you belong with them. He still feels sick with guilt at what they’ve done, what he’s done, but with you in the state that you’re in, something more instinctive and primal crashes over him, a possessive need to protect you, keep you safe, keep you theirs. Fuck, he doesn’t even really want to let any of the other boys near you. Not when you’re like this, not when you’re curled up in his arms, purring because you feel safe with him.

The next few days pass in a blur. You’re distantly aware of things, certain moments clearer than others. You try to get out again and again, screaming bloody murder when the boys won’t let you, managing to stop you every time. They start putting obstacles along your path to the front door, since the door is still broken and they don’t want to risk a human coming up here whilst you’re like this. Romance catches you in his arms at one point, and you bite his shoulder in an effort to be let go, piercing his skin with your fangs. The taste of blood sends a shock through your system and you stop fighting, instinctively licking at the puncture wounds, and Rome nearly passes out from the feeling of your tongue against his skin.

You spend a lot of time hiding. Tucked away in your closet, or under piles of blankets, even under your bed at one point. Sometimes all you want is for the boys to be near you, sometimes their scents send you into a blind panic. None of the boys come out unscathed.

Jinu gets it the worst. He has you cornered, trapped with nowhere to go, but he’s tired and sloppy, and he’s not blocking your attacks properly. You catch him off guard when you swipe at his abdomen, tearing through his shirt, dark blood immediately staining the cotton, and he lets out a pained, angry snarl, charging at you and slamming you against the wall, pinning your hands, his fingers laced together with yours. You’re both breathing heavily, growling at each other, the sharp, coppery scent of blood in the air, and he shakes his head in frustration.

“Stop. We’re not doing this. You don’t want to hurt me,” he says firmly, a low, threatening rumble still emanating from his chest, and for once, you listen. “If I let go, are you going to behave?”

You nod slowly, and when he lets you go, you slide to the ground, curling in on yourself, making yourself small.

He crouches down in front of you, running a gentle hand through your hair, and you hiss weakly at him. There’s no real malice behind the hiss, not really, and both of you know it. When he sits down next to you and pulls you towards him, you let him, too tired to argue.

When you wake up, you’re almost completely lucid for a change, fully aware of yourself and your surroundings and your behaviour, and you let out a soft groan as the events of the past few days crash over you.

You feel like you’ve been run over by a bus. Your head hurts and your stomach is crampy and everything aches, right down to your bones. Flexing your hands, you eye the claws tipping your fingers warily.

“Shit!” you hiss, jumping up. You didn’t hurt anyone, right? You remember trying to get out, but you didn’t actually manage to get out, you’re pretty sure the boys stopped you every time.

Oh God. The boys.

You hurt them.

It comes flooding back, the urge to cause pain, the sick satisfaction you felt when you’d drawn blood from them, the way Romance’s blood tasted on your tongue when you bit him.

You run out of your room to find Jinu sitting opposite your door, and he takes in your panicked eyes and realises it’s you, you’re back.

“Jinu, I—where are the others? I need to—I need to apologise,” you ramble, but you already know where they are, you can hear them in the living room. You’re gone before he can even open his mouth.

You burst into the living area, Jinu hot on your heels, and you take one look at the boys and burst into tears. Mystery has a faint red scratch across his cheek, Abby has a ring of puncture marks around his arms from where you grabbed him, Romance has your bitemark on his shoulder, still looking red and angry, Baby has four parallel scratches going down his arm and hand, and Jinu – you don’t see anything on Jinu, but you remember, now, you remember your claws slicing through his shirt like a knife through butter, the blood soaking the torn fabric.

You hurt them. Physically hurt them, made them bleed. You did that.

Aren’t you proud of your handiwork? You should be.

And this is what you managed to do to other demons. Just imagine what you’re capable of when humans are involved.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Abby asks, hurrying over to your side, stroking your back gently to calm you down.

“I—I—I hurt you, a-all of you!” you say through tears, and Abby laughs.

“What, this? This is nothin’, babygirl.”

“It’s not nothing!” you snap, looking up at him with bright yellow eyes. “I hurt you all, and—and I didn’t mean to and—none of it has healed, why hasn’t it healed? I thought you healed faster!”

“It’s because you’re a demon, too,” Baby shrugs, looking unbothered. “Normal injuries heal faster, but demon inflicted injuries take longer. Still not, like, human healing longer, but, y’know. Longer.”

Your bottom lip quivers as you take in the damage you’ve done. “I’m s-so-sorry!”

Baby sighs. “Stop being a pussy, it’ll go away in a few weeks.”

“Baby!” Jinu admonishes, but you’re giggling, Baby’s bluntness shocking you out of your worked-up state, and he smiles, smug.

“How are you feeling?” Romance asks you gently, and you give him a weak smile.

“Like I’ve been hit by a bus,” you say. “Everything hurts. And I—I’m embarrassed. About how I’ve been these past few days.”

You hadn’t really registered it until you said it, but it’s true, you are embarrassed. You feel vulnerable – the boys saw you in this state, uncontrollable and feral, needy one minute and aggressive the next, and a stubborn part of you wants to say that that’s not who you are, but… maybe it is.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, darling!” Romance says, and you roll your eyes fondly.

“Great, thanks! Cured. Embarrassment: gone,” you say sarcastically.

“Seriously, though,” Mystery says. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. You’re cute when you’re feral.”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, warmth rising to your cheeks. “Well, at least I have that going for me.”

The other boys nod. “For sure. Cutest baby demon I’ve ever seen,” Jinu grins.

“Hottest, too,” Abby winks, and you groan, covering your face.

“Anyway,” you say, and you hear some of the boys snickering as you attempt to change the subject. “I’m starving. Why am I so hungry? I thought demons didn’t need food.”

“Not usually, no. But you’ve only just started transforming into a demon, so your body is still used to a regular food intake,” Jinu explains. “Plus, you haven’t really eaten much the past couple days.”

“Ugh. Okay.”

Abby makes you a protein shake, and you’re not really sure that you need to worry about things like protein intake now that you’re a demon (not that you were particularly concerned about it before, either), but you’re not going to question it.

The day passes far too quickly. You spend an hour in the bath, the steaming water relaxing your tense muscles, and even as the aching fades, you still don’t feel quite right. It’s like there’s something missing, but you don’t know what. You’re restless, wandering around the apartment, watching the boys fix the door you broke, replacing it with a stronger, sturdier door. Even when you’re trying to relax on the couch that evening, you can’t sit still, your leg bouncing, claws tapping against the armrest, eyes flitting from one thing to the next.

When Mystery sits down next to you and pulls you into his arms, you don’t argue. You’re tired. And he feels good. Smells nice. His fingers trace shapes and patterns and words across your back, making you shiver, and it’s distracting enough to hold your attention as you try to figure out what exactly he’s writing or drawing. It’s soothing.

You still don’t feel right, but you don’t feel wrong anymore, either.

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Actually, that’s something you’re becoming increasingly aware of: just how much power you have over the boys now. They’re desperate to keep you around, you realise – letting you take the lead with everything, not pushing, doing whatever you ask them to do.

So, naturally, you start testing them. Seeing just how far you can push things before they start to push back. You start off small, things like wearing a t-shirt with no bra even though you’re a little chilly in the apartment. Jinu nearly drops the book he’s holding when he sees you, and when he fumbles with it to get back to reading, he’s holding it upside down, his eyes flitting between you and the page. You sit on the other end of the couch, idly scrolling on your phone, and after a few minutes you say “Your book is upside down, by the way,” and you’ve never seen him go so red.

You ask Myst if he wants to try braiding your hair, since he likes playing with it, and you sit on the ground between his legs as he sits in one of the armchairs behind you. You’re not exaggerating when you let out a pleased hum at the feeling of his hands in your hair, or make a noise that he’s 99% sure was a soft moan, but yeah, maybe you’re playing it up a little. It’s worth it, though, for the way his hands still in your hair, the way you can hear his heart beating faster, the way you can feel that he’s trembling ever so slightly.

You knock on Romance’s door, with nothing but a towel wrapped around your body, asking him if he has any moisturiser because you can’t find yours, and if so, could you borrow it? He’s too stunned by the image of you in a towel to even think about the fact that you absolutely have at least 4 different moisturisers in the cabinet under your sink – which he knows because he put them there – and wordlessly gets one of his, handing it to you with wide eyes, not wanting to risk messing things up by saying anything.

Abby is the easiest to rile up. That night, after your little excursion, you plop down next to him on the couch, and slowly, inch by inch, you get closer and closer to him, until you’re leaning against him. He’s frozen, and you have to bite back a laugh – you can feel how hard he’s trying not to move. His hand twitches on his thigh, and you just know that he wants to put his arm around your shoulders, but isn’t letting himself. Shame. You’d let him.

Baby is the first to push back, naturally.

“Hey, does this mean that now if we get you to admit you’re into us, you won’t freak out anymore?” he asks, walking into your room the next day without so much as a “hello”.

“Oh, hi, Baby, nice to see you, yeah, I’m doing great, thanks,” you say, rolling your eyes, and, God. Baby has to resist the urge to grab you and kiss you right there and then.

He’s missed this so much. You talking back to him.

When he doesn’t say anything, you go back to the book you’re reading. If he wants something, he can at least greet you first.

A minute ticks by before he lets out a groan. “Were you always this annoying?”

He sees your mouth twitch, the corners lifting into a smile, but you still don’t answer.

“Ugh, oh my GOD, fine. Hi, princess,” he says, unable to stop the pet name from slipping out.

“Hey, Baby, what’s up?” you say, smiling sweetly at him. “Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

He snorts. “Yeah. Were you always this annoying?”

“Yep,” you tell him, and this time he’s the one hiding a smile. “That all?”

With a sigh, he repeats his question. “Does this mean that, now, if we get you to admit you’re into us, you won’t freak out anymore?”

You hum thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” you say, and it’s the truth. “Maybe. Why don’t you try it and find out?”

He blinks at you in surprise. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

You absolutely, 100% mean it.

You’re so distracted by pushing them, and they’re so distracted by what you’re doing, that you all barely notice how much time has gone by since you moved back in. It’s only when you check your emails and see a message from the therapist mentioning your session a week ago that you realise that, yeah, it’s been a full week now.

Shit.

If it’s already been a week, that means that the ‘second phase’ could start at any time. Because that’s what Jinu said, right? “A week, maybe two.”

You’ve been doing pretty good at avoiding thinking about it, but the threat of what’s supposedly approaching you suddenly feels very real and unavoidable.

You’re going to hurt more people, you know. Take their souls. You can’t stop it from happening. You’re going to be a monster.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Jinu asks with a knock on your open door, startling you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. Got distracted,” you say, jumping up and grabbing your mask and cap. After the excitement of your trip with Abby, Jinu opted for a more laid-back outing, taking you to the library. It’s quiet, mostly empty, which you’re grateful for – even with concealer and your mask and cap, you’re still incredibly self-conscious.

On the bright side, now that you’ve been out and around people a little more, you’re not quite as worried about accidentally hurting someone. Well, you weren’t, at least. Not until King Dickhead piped up again.

“So… I’ve been back for a week, which means the second phase will be starting soon, right?” you ask Jinu, keeping your voice low in one of the aisles of the library.

Jinu frowns, sighs. “Yeah. The fastest I’ve heard of it starting is five days after the first transformation, longest is thirteen days after.”

“Five days?!” you hiss quietly. “You said I had at least a week!”

“Ah, sorry,” he winces, giving you an apologetic look. “Usually, it does happen after about a week – eight, maybe nine days? Five days is pretty rare; I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, looking through the shelves, trailing your fingers along the spines of the books. You’re not looking at him when you speak again, nervous out what his face will show you. “What exactly is going to happen? I know you guys said my ‘demon instincts’ will kick in, and that I won’t be able to control it, but what does that actually mean? And don’t just tell me ‘it’s bad’ or something, I want to know what’s going to happen to me, Jinu. I didn’t get to know the first time; I want to at least know this time.”

His stomach twists at the reminder of what you’ve gone through, what they’ve made you go through, acidic bile rising in his throat. “Okay,” he nods. “I’ll tell you more. But maybe not here? I can explain at the apartment.”

It’s fair enough, you suppose, so you wander around the library for a little longer, picking up some books you want to check out, and a card game that looks like it could be fun. Jinu picks some books, too, and you tilt your head to read the titles.

“Have you never read Lord of the Rings?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

Jinu shrugs. “No. Is it well-known?”

You stare at him. A beat passes. Then another. “I’ll never understand how you managed to create such a successful kpop group and yet you have no idea of pop culture. Actually, speaking of creating things – Rome mentioned that you created Derpy and Sussie?”

“So many questions today, love,” he says, the pet name slipping out as he flashes a smile at you, and you try to ignore the stubborn butterflies in your stomach. “Let’s get home first, and then I can answer your questions.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “I’m done. I have the books I want. Let’s go hom—to the apartment.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes fondly at you. “Were you always this impatient?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Now come on, let’s go!!”

“Okay, okay!”

A few minutes later, you’re back in the apartment with your new library books, checked out under Jinu’s name, and you dump them unceremoniously on your bed before spinning around to look at Jinu, hands on your hips. He sighs, taking a seat on your desk chair, fidgeting with his hands. You’re not used to seeing him this nervous, this fidgety, and you realise that the topic makes him uncomfortable.

“What was it like for you?” you ask, and you know you’re probably making it worse, pouring salt on the wound of the memory, but you need to know.

“…awful,” he says eventually, his patterns softly glowing against his skin. “I… I remember waking up and not knowing who I was anymore. I mean, I did know, but I didn’t feel like me. My body wasn’t mine anymore, it was that of a monster.”

You suppress a shudder. You’ve already been feeling that way, and it’s going to get worse?

“I had all these… urges. To hurt people. To—to kill them,” he says that last part quietly, spitting out the words like they’re bitter on his tongue. “And I did. I couldn’t control it. Couldn’t control myself. It wasn’t like that all the time, there were days where I felt almost normal, and days where I felt wrong but not—not aggressive, but more like a feral animal.”

You feel sick.

That’s going to happen to you too. Don’t forget that. You’ll be a monster in no time.

“H-how did it start?” you ask shakily. “Was it slow, or—?”

He shakes his head. “From what I remember, it happened from one day to the next. I just woke up like that.”

Great. Just great. So, you won’t even get a warning that everything is about to go tits up.

“We—we won’t let that happen to you. I mean, we can’t stop it happening, but we won’t let you do anything you’ll regret,” he says. “I promise. We’ll take care of you. It’s going to suck, but we’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

You’re quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in. “I hate that I have to rely on you all again. That I’m going to be trapped here again with you taking care of me. I hate it.”

Your words feel like a knife, slowly being pushed into his heart. “I wish I could go back and stop us from taking you,” he says, and you can feel the pain behind his words, and you’re glad. He should feel pain. God knows you do.

“But, you can’t,” you tell him, holding his gaze. “And now we all have to live with what you did.”

“… I’m sorry. Really,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Me too.”

You’re so sick of feeling like this. Angry and hurt and resentful one minute, then carefree and happy the next, your emotions swinging like a pendulum. Things were good, you’d literally just had butterflies from Jinu calling you “love”, and now, barely ten minutes later, you’re sat in your room, seething, wanting to cause him pain.

That’s scary. This wanting to cause pain, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. You don’t like feeling this way, you don’t like wanting to hurt people, you don’t like that it brings you a sick sense of satisfaction. And the worst part is that you’re not sure if that’s the demon, or if that’s just you.

The most annoying part of all of this, however, of your tangled mess of feelings, is that you still like him. You still like all of them. The butterflies never truly go away; they just sleep until they’re given an opportunity to remind you that they’re there. Even now, sitting here, angry and hurting, they’re still there. Softly fluttering, reminding you of him calling you “love”, him talking you down from a panic attack, his arms around you, his lips against your forehead.

You’re so tired of it all. The never-ending confusion, never feeling 100% good or 100% bad, every emotion tainted by another.

And just as quickly as it had started, the anger subsides. Jinu’s still sat there on your desk chair, quietly watching you with sorrowful eyes, and part of you wants to snap at him to stop looking at you like that when this is his fault, but you don’t have the energy.

“Want to try this game I got?” you ask instead. “I’m gonna see if anyone else wants to play, too.”

Thirty minutes later, any residual anger is mostly gone (but not entirely. Never entirely), as you sit at the dining table, beaming at the boys.

“This game sucks,” Baby grumbles.

“No, you’re just bad at it. It’s not the game’s fault that I keep winning,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“You’re cheating,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes at you.

You grin. “Not any more than you guys are. Let’s play another round!”

There’s a series of groans and sighs from around the table, but none of them are going to tell you no. You know that, and you’re making the most out of it. And look, you’re not cheating, not really. It’s not your fault if the boys have spent so long not needing to hide their tells that they’ve forgotten how to. If anything, half the time they seem to forget that there’s even a need for them to hide their tells anymore, and you’re not about to remind them. It’s incredibly useful, being able to hear the minute changes in their heartrate, the slight shifts in breathing, every tiny movement.

“Hey, can demons get tattoos?” you ask a few minutes into the next game.

“No,” Mystery sighs, and you look at him, surprised. He flashes you a quick smile. “What, not expecting me to be the one who’s tried to get tattoos?”

“Not really, no,” you laugh.

He shrugs. “Well, we can’t. Our bodies heal too quickly; they reject the ink.”

“Huh,” you sink back into your chair. “What about alcohol? I mean, I know you’ve said before that you can get drunk but it just takes more – like, how much more?”

“Depends on the drink,” Baby says, and you roll your eyes, because yeah, obviously.

“Fine,” you sigh. “What about drugs?”

“Drugs?” Jinu asks, staring at you, wide-eyed.

“Yeah? Come on, you can’t tell me you guys have been around for hundreds of years and not even tried like, weed or something?”

“Same as with alcohol,” Baby says after a few seconds of silence. “Takes more, and the effects don’t last as long.”

“Boo,” you frown. “So, we don’t get to have any fun?”

“Oh, we can still have plenty of fun, angel,” Romance purrs, and you grin. You’ve missed this. Yeah, you feel ashamed to admit it, but you have missed it. Being flirted with and being desired by five hot guys.

“Yeah?” you hum, one eyebrow raised. “What kind of fun?”

Romance goes ever so slightly pink, not expecting you to go along with his flirting. “U-um, well, I—uh—” he stammers, and you can’t help but giggle at how flustered he is, and fuck, the sound of you giggling? They’re all drinking it up, saving it to think about later.

“Nothing?” you ask, relishing on the look of bewilderment on Romance’s face. “Shame. I was looking forward to hearing about all the fun we can have.”

“I—we—you—you can’t just say things like that, darling!” he splutters, and you tilt your head innocently.

“Why not?”

“It’s—it’s—”

“It’s not fair!” Abby interjects, looking surprised that the words are coming out of his mouth, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “It’s—it’s not fair for you to tease us.”

Holding his gaze, hearing his heart speed up, pitter-pattering in his chest, you lean forward, just a little. “I think it’s perfectly fair. Who says it’s just teasing?” They’re all staring at you now. Abby looks panicked, like he doesn’t know what to do, and you smile sweetly. “Don’t you guys remember what rule number three is?”

Mystery is the first to talk. “If you tell us to stop, we stop.”

“Yep,” you nod. “And…?”

“…if you don’t tell us to stop, we can keep going,” Baby says eventually.

“Exactly,” you say. “Just like before.”

The card game lies forgotten on the table, all of the boys still staring at you, unsure, and slowly your good mood dissipates, replaced by something insecure. What if there’s a reason they haven’t made any moves on you? You’re different now, what if you’re too different, what if they’re just taking pity on you and they don’t actually like you anymore?

“D-do you guys still, like, like me?” you ask, looking down at your hands, your lips wobbling as you talk. “I-I’m not human anymore, and you always liked that I was human, loved that about me, and—”

“Oh, baby, course we still like you, we love you,” Jinu’s the first to talk, but the others follow quickly.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re not human, babygirl, you’re you, we love that about you—”

“—you’re the same person you’ve always been, darling, the same person we love—”

“—why would you even think that, princess, of course we love you—”

“—if anything, we love you more now, pet—”

They’re surrounding you, reassuring you, hands caressing your cheeks, your hair, soft kisses being pressed against whatever skin they can reach – not your face, not your lips, but anything else is fair game. Their touches and words overlap, mixing together, and you feel oddly safe, happy, surrounded like this.

“…wait, did you guys say you love me?”

The boys freeze. All except Jinu, who just shrugs. “Well, yeah. I told you that before you left as well, remember?”

“I-I guess, but, I don’t know, I thought your feelings might have changed, or something,” you say, your cheeks flushing, and Abby scoffs.

“Trust me, babygirl, there is zero chance of that happening.”

“But, what if…” you say hesitantly. “What if I do something really bad, y’know, in the next few weeks? What if I hurt one of you?”

“Then we’ll still love you,” Romance says simply.

You stare at him, stare at them all, eyes wide, lips quivering, and you promptly burst into tears. The boys look at you and then at each other with varying degrees of “what the fuck?” and “what do we do?!?”, all communicated with facial expressions and wild gesturing.

“I—I d-don’t know wh-what to do-o-ooo,” you sob, face in your hands. “Th-there are t-too m-many fe-feelings!”

“Woah, hey, it’s okay, love,” Jinu says, gently rubbing your back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything, you don’t have to decide anything—”

“B-b-but what if I d-do the wr-wrong thing?” you say, sniffling.

“Then we’ll still be here,” Mystery says calmly, wiping the tears from your face. “We’ll still be here, and we’ll still love you.”

God, this is… overwhelming.

No, it’s fine. Totally fine. You can handle this. It’s not like you have anything else to worry about right now. Other than the whole demon thing. And now this. Okay okay okay. It’s all good.

Everything will be fine. It’s all going to be fine.

“Are you… okay?” Baby asks awkwardly.

“Yeah, I—I think so,” you nod shakily, stifling a yawn. “Just… it’s a lot. And I’m just—I’m so tired.”

“Maybe you should get some rest, darling,” Romance suggests.

You don’t want to sleep. Too scared of what might be waiting for you when you wake up.

But… you are tired. Exhausted. And before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep.

And when you wake up the next day, everything feels wrong.