#jaeshn

❝ I don't kiss and tell. ❞ (@jaeshn bc you know he's gotta tease her a little)

For   a   moment,   Serin   only   looked   at   him   —   head   tilted,   eyes   narrowing   just   slightly   as   if   trying   to   decide   whether   he   was   being   serious   or   simply   enjoying   how   easily   he   could   get   under   her   skin.   The   corner   of   her   mouth   twitched,   betraying   the   smallest   hint   of   amusement   despite   herself.   Jaeshin   had   always   had   that   particular   tone,   light   and   careless,   but   sharp   enough   to   cut   through   her   composure   if   she   let   it.   “Good,”   she   finally   said,   her   voice   steady   but   laced   with   that   dry   humor   that   came   when   she   refused   to   give   him   the   satisfaction.   “Because   there   isn’t   much   to   tell   anyway.”

She   turned   away   as   she   spoke,   though   the   faintest   color   rose   in   her   cheeks   —   the   kind   of   reaction   she   hated   him   for   knowing   how   to   draw   out.   There   was   no   winning   with   Jaeshin;   if   she   acted   unaffected,   he’d   accuse   her   of   pretending,   and   if   she   reacted,   he’d   grin   like   he’d   just   been   handed   proof   that   he   still   knew   her   better   than   anyone   else.   The   air   between   them   hung   somewhere   between   playfulness   and   challenge,   an   old   rhythm   they   fell   into   too   easily.

❝ I'm losing my mind, I'm losing myself. ❞ (from jaeshin, maybe pre-vamp 👀) @jaeshn

Namkyu   looked   at   him   for   a   long   moment,   his   expression   unreadable   at   first   —   the   kind   that   made   it   impossible   to   tell   if   he   was   angry,   worried,   or   simply   detached.   Jaeshin’s   voice   still   lingered   in   the   air   between   them,   raw   and   unguarded,   and   for   once,   Namkyu   didn’t   immediately   try   to   fill   the   silence.   He’d   seen   Jaeshin   restless   before   —   the   kind   of   restless   that   made   him   vanish   for   days,   chasing   the   next   distraction,   the   next   reason   to   keep   breathing.   But   this   was   different.   There   was   something   breaking   underneath   the   words   this   time,   and   Namkyu   could   feel   it   clawing   at   the   edges   of   his   own   chest.

It   smelled   delicious,   to   be   honest.   And   he   knows   he   is   part   of   the   problem   itself.   He   dangles   the   beauty   of   immortality   as   a   saving   grace   in   front   of   him.   “Then   stop   trying   to   hold   onto   what’s   already   falling   apart,”   he   said   finally,   his   tone   calm   but   heavy.   He   took   a   slow   step   closer,   eyes   catching   the   faint   tremor   in   Jaeshin’s   hands.   “You   talk   like   you’re   slipping   into   something   dark,   but   maybe   what   you’re   really   doing   is   shedding   what’s   been   killing   you   all   along.”

He   should’ve   sounded   cruel.   He   usually   did.   But   there   was   no   mockery   in   his   voice   tonight   —   only   an   unsettling   quiet,   the   kind   that   came   before   he   made   a   choice   he   couldn’t   take   back.   Namkyu’s   gaze   softened,   almost   reluctant.   “If   you’re   truly   losing   yourself,”   he   murmured,   “then   let   me   make   sure   there’s   something   left   of   you   to   find   again.”   The   words   carried   more   weight   than   they   should   have.   A   promise   he   hadn’t   yet   spoken   aloud   —   one   that   lingered   like   the   faint   taste   of   blood   at   the   back   of   his   throat.   He   didn’t   say   immortality   yet.   But   the   thought   was   there,   pulsing   behind   his   steady   stare.

Instantly, brows knit together as he looked over the charts handed to him. Seungmin cleared his throat quietly; moving closer to Jaeshin so he wouldn't be over heard.

"When was the last time you fed?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. His own vision would double if he neglected to feed the entity every twelve hours.

"Maybe that's what's causing this," he offered, kind smile ghosting over exhausted features. Regardless of how tired he was, he'd do his best to make him feel comfortable.

"Speaking of, I'm feeling peckish."

"Shut. Up."

He should be surprised by this, but nothing seemed to faze him lately. It felt like a black hole had absorbed all of his feelings; leaving him a shell, void of anything other than vague apathy.

"Interesting," he mused, truly meaning it. It was rare he met another supernatural being these days. "One could say I'm only at the beginning of my many lives," he added softly.

"I'd be interested in hearing any tales if you're willing to share."

Head tilts to the side, the hybrid studying him cautiously. Knowing better than to openly trust anyone upon first meeting, she slowly shook her head in response.

"Not really, if I'm being honest," came a vocal response for clarity if any was needed. Hells, she didn't even know what was going on exactly.

For the leader to not have a clear understanding of events was a rare thing. So much so that she was on edge just standing there. A fact she was trying her best to hide, but she could feel the muscles under her eye twitch ever so slightly.

Unnatural green eyes stared at the man in front of her. He had a point. Her target had taken off once she was prone and hanging on by a thread. A definite change of tactics was needed. But that was a discussion with her girls; not for her savior.

"And I highly appreciate it. Guess this means I owe you a favor down the line, hm?"

That was how things worked, right? She vaguely recalls her trainer mentioning something like that at some point. Lottie wasn't one hundred percent confident in that, however.

" -- Name's Lottie. May I know yours?"

@jaeshn asked: what's it gonna take for you to trust me? (jay)

Trust.   It   wasn’t   a   word   he   threw   around   easily   —   not   after   watching   too   many   smiles   in   the   industry   fade   into   knives   the   moment   you   turned   your   back.   His   eyes   lingered   on   Jaeshin’s   face,   searching   for   something   that   felt   real,   something   that   wouldn’t   vanish   under   the   glare   of   stage   lights   or   the   pulse   of   secrets.   “You   ask   like   it’s   simple,”   he   said   finally,   voice   low,   almost   weary.   “Like   trust   is   something   you   earn   with   one   good   deed.   And   we   don't   know   each   other.”   They   did,   from   distance.

  Would   Jaeshin   remember   him?   Most   idols   often   work   as   backup   dancers   for   other   idols   while   training.   Or   how   Jay   often   had   some   writing   credits   to   the   lyrics. Why   is   the   other   suddenly   so   preoccupied   with   how   his   band   was   being   lead   through   their   new   found   success   and   the   rise   of   a   new   company   that   promised,   and   delivered,   the   gold   at   the   end   of   the   rainbow? He   drew   a   breath,   steady   and   deliberate,   the   same   way   he   did   before   a   performance.

"You’re distracting me, you know." (@jaeshn )

Serin’s   lips   curved,   slow   and   deliberate,   as   if   she   were   tasting   the   phrase   before   responding.   The   jacket   —   his   jacket,   or   near   enough   —   hung   loosely   over   her   shoulders,   the   same   shade   of   charcoal   with   matching   embroidery   at   the   cuff.   It   was   too   on-the-nose,   too   deliberate,   and   that   was   exactly   the   point.   The   fans   would   eat   it   up.

“Am   I?”   she   asked,   voice   smooth   as   the   satin   lining   brushing   against   her   neck.   “You’re   the   one   who   thought   matching   outfits   would   help   deny   the   rumors,   remember?”   She   tilted   her   head,   eyes   flicking   toward   him   beneath   her   lashes.   She   masks   the   way   her   heart   skipped   a   beat   at   his   words,   wearing   that   ridiculous   t-shirt   with   his   face   on   it   under   the   jacket.   But   he   is   good   at   this;   pretending   to   give   compliments   and   she   can't   help   but   fall   for   it   a   while,   everytime   he   does   it.

Serin   stepped   closer   until   their   sleeves   brushed,   her   hand   finding   the   edge   of   his   jacket   to   adjust   it,   as   if   it   mattered   that   he   look   perfect   when   she   was   already   too   aware   of   how   perfectly   he   fit   the   part. “Besides,”   she   murmured,   “if   you’re   distracted,   that   means   I’m   doing   my   job.”   This   was   supposed   to   be   harmless   —   a   little   play   for   the   cameras.   But   as   Serin   glanced   at   their   reflections   in   the   shop   window   —   two   mirrored   silhouettes   in   matching   gray   —   the   line   between   act   and   truth   blurred.   Maybe   he   was   distracting   her   too.