Yïxing swoons when he sees you. The white uniform they have you wear at your job is just slightly see-through, just enough that the marks he left on you are visible. Though to be fair, he might have taken it a little too far this time. He can hear the people talk, gossip, and he sees how uncomfortable it makes you. But that can be dealt with later.

Right now he gives you a very appropriate smile as you bring him his order that is conveniently the exact same as what you're getting when you're ordering coffee. You seem just a little too relieved when he meets your eyes instead of ogling the marks hiding under the fabric of your uniform. Just as usual, you seem happy to see him. You seem excited to hand him his cup, although you never do it with other guests. No, he thinks contentedly, you always set the cup down in front of them, but for him you make the exception.

He also notices you're stalling. As if you were reluctant to go back to the front. He can't blame you, and he definitely doesn't mind.

"Looks like you're having a terrible day," he notes quietly and gives you a sympathetic smile.

"Something like that," you admit and it's so clear that you'd rather stay and chat but the manager is already calling you back to the front. They take you to the office off to the side, which Yïxing disapproves of because it's the one place where he can't see you. When you come out, you're obviously uncomfortable, and also now sporting one of those awful sweaters they have you wear during winter. He can't imagine that feeling great since the heating makes it feel like it's the middle of summer inside the cafe.

You're too busy to pay him much attention afterwards and his mood sours. He can't leave without politely asking to talk to the manager and explaining in no uncertain terms that their behavior is unacceptable. Seeing the staff in discomfort ruins the experience for the guests, surely they don't want that? Somehow, he actually manages to look concerned when he says that.

Before he leaves, Yïxing makes sure that the injustice is fixed. He catches the grateful smile you shoot his way. Yeah, he could get used to that - you smiling while wearing his marks so beautifully.

Nobody should blame him for visiting you on this night too. How could he resist? You look so peaceful when you sleep, your expression free of worries, and you’re so cute all curled up in your blanket. Only the bed is too big for you to sleep in alone. He sits down on the edge carefully. He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want to make you scared of him. Should it happen, then he can of course take responsibility. He’s more than ready to take you with him, to care for you and cherish you as you deserve to be, but alas… these things are easier if one has patience. 

He moves some hair away from your forehead and caresses your cheek. You lean into his touch and he smiles. He loves how affectionate you are. Sometimes when handing him his order, your fingers brush together and you never shy away, never flinch, and what means the most - never apologize, only blush.

He lets his fingers trace your face, down your cheek to your jaw and then lower to your neck. Bruises begin to bloom under his touch, faint splashes of red and purples. He can’t wait for the day he will get to mark you for real, with his lips right against your skin. He can’t wait for the day you will be all his to keep, and so there won’t be any need to work, to hide the marks declaring you as his. 

He’s almost given in to the temptation many times. He could be careful. He could do it without waking you up, he’s sure of that. But he respects you more than that.

You stir in your sleep and roll over, the blanket and your shirt sliding up just enough to expose a patch of your skin on your ribs that has not yet been painted. He takes full advantage of it and remedies it straight away. Patches of yellows and purples blooming under the soft touch of his fingertips. He admits he hates to be the cause of your distress, but he knows once you’re his, you’ll feel so silly for ever worrying about the strange bruises. He’s sure you’ll beg for his forgiveness that you did not treasure them more.

He’s sure you’ll beg him to keep you despite making him wait for so long. 

And he will.

----

That night, you return to the studio. Lay’s words throb in your ears, egging you on. 

As you spin around and around, your turns get sloppier and wilder. Your eyes prickle, but you keep pushing yourself, keep forcing your limbs to move. 

Suddenly, your ankle collapses under you. A red spike shoots up your leg, and you land hard on the floorboards. 

You silence your cry. 

Tears streak down your face, and you swipe them away with a sleeve. You try to pull yourself to the wall, but it’s so painful that your vision sparks white.  

As you wrap your arms around your body, you let a sole whimper escape your lips. 

That was your biggest mistake. 

Because all of a sudden, you hear footsteps approaching the door. Cursing, you pull yourself up to standing on a ballet barre, trying not to yelp from the pain. 

It’s Lay. For the first time ever, his raven-black dance uniform is gone, replaced with an open white shirt and jeans. His carved cream chest is so distracting, you almost forget that he hates you. 

“What are you still doing here, Y/n? Class ended three hours ago. Get to bed!” Your lips start to quiver. The pain is bad enough. You don’t need his contempt to make it worse. 

“Yes sir, I’m just packing up.” You try to step towards your bag, but fire rips up your leg. A squeak escapes your lips. 

“Wait, are you hurt?” 

All of a sudden, the distance between you vanishes. Strong arms are lifting you into a chair before you have the chance to protest, heat rolling off Lay’s skin and onto yours. 

Your cheek is pressed against smooth muscle. The nakedness of it sends shivers through you. “You’ve sprained your ankle! Sit right there.”

Once you’re seated, Lay fetches a roll of white gauze and kneels in front of you. The thumping of your heart turns silence into cacophony. Free from its hat, you notice Lay’s hair for the first time, dishevelled curls of ebony. 

You realise what’s changed. He looks… human.  

“Why are you helping me? Y-you hate me.” The question leaps from your lips, uncalled for. 

“I don’t hate you,” Lay murmurs, hands gently wrapping your ankle with gauze. His tenderness leaves you breathless. “I’m just harsh on you because…” 

Lay’s hands drop to the ground, and he leans on them like he might collapse. You might collapse.

“Can I be honest with you?” Oaky eyes flick up to meet yours. You just nod, afraid to speak in case he changes his mind. 

“I haven’t been… teaching long, and-“ He sighs. “I’m worried that if I’m not… strict, no one will take me seriously.” He looks up, and for the first time ever, he’s wearing away at his lip. 

“I’m not funny, or charming… or someone you can like. I’m just someone you can fear. So that’s why I’m mean to you.” 

“There.” Lay looks to the side, flashing you a wry smile. “It’s out. God, I feel like a child to say this, but- could you keep this to yourself?” 

Shivers ripple down your body. You swear to keep his secret. 

Lay grins, and deep dimples spring up in his smooth cheeks. You can’t believe you didn’t know they were there. “I can’t believe you thought I hated you, Y/n! It’s the opposite…you’ve got what it takes. And don’t let an idiot like me tell you don’t.”

Flutters burst in your stomach. Lay kneeling, you sitting, you sink into a breathless silence. You cling to his serious gaze, trying to peer into the man beneath the thick chocolate lashes. 

Then, he lifts his hand to wipe away a dry tear, and you narrowly avoid the urge to kiss his hand. Your body throbs with your pulse. 

“You were crying.” Your conversation has broken down into fragments, swirling in the silent sea of the unsaid. 

You don’t answer him, eyes glued to Lay’s slightly parted lips. 

You lean in closer, and he doesn’t move away. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of. Your honey-gaze slips to his mouth. Then, you press your lips against his, and they’re warm and oh-so-soft and- 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lay springs back, clamping his hand to his mouth as if it isn’t his.  

“I-I- uh..” The back of your neck burns, and your heart pounds faster than ever. “I thought you…uh-“ Your stomach twists into a tight ball, sinking like a weight inside you. 

Lay’s blank expression is like a punch to the throat. You squint at him through screwed eyes, praying for a quick exit. 

Then, a frown breaks through the fog on Lay’s face. He cocks his head to the side, sizing you up. “What were you thinking?”

Your shoulders drop; you can’t be bothered to make up a lie. Taking a deep breath, you decide to go for the truth. 

“I know you see me as yourself as my instructor, and me as your student. But I-I see you as a man… and me as a woman. Is that so wrong?”

There’s a silence so sharp it could break glass. 

The shadow of a smile lifts Lay’s lip as he speaks. “That’s not wrong.”

And then, he leans forward once more, and you feel like you’re in a slow-motion movie. You watch Lay’s tongue flick over his lips, leaving them plump and glistening. 

This time, he’s the one whose midnight eyes trail down to your mouth, but slowly, as if he’s tasting your skin with his eyes. When his firm hand grasps your thigh, you feel him shaking. 

That gives you the confidence to close the gap between you. You pull Lay’s head towards you, and kiss him on the mouth. It’s a searching kiss. A kiss that needs to be returned. 

He kisses you back. Softly. Safely. Then impatiently. 

His fingers trail up the fabric of your T-shirt. The cold mirror pushes up against your back. You gasp at his taste. You can hear him gasping too. 

You imagine how you feel to him, tear-salted. Your wayward hand feels cream muscle you’d only dreamt of feeling. 

The fumble, the awkwardness of learning something unknown… that only makes it sweeter.

When you pull back, you realise you now know Lay intimately, but at the same time, you barely know him at all. 

Lay makes as if to speak, but you stop him with a finger. 

He shouldn’t find himself coming closer and closer to you each time you find each other, and yet somehow that’s always where he ends up. How you always ended up where you could find him he wasn’t sure. You had been stripped of your title and since been confined to the human realm. If he had to guess he would say it’s likely knowledge you’re being gifted by the demons you found yourself in the company of more often than not. It made sense though, your actions assisted them more often than not after all. Choosing to ignore the pleadings of various covens who had been searching for a fallen angel and instead help create deliciously sinful chaos. 

“Hello again, angel. What brings you here today?” Your voice is sultry, the same tone you use to lure so many human targets in. He’s not so gullible, at least he likes to think he’s not, perhaps he's playing into your hand all the same though.

Yixing debates answering your question, eyes flickering to the person he was supposed to keep an eye on. The one he was hoping to assist in avoiding temptation, something that became ever more challenging once you were involved seeing as how he had to keep himself under control too. The chuckle you let out when picking up on the action should serve as warning enough.

“Better get a move on then angel, we’ve already gotten a head start. Shouldn’t be long now before they crack under the pressure either.” You muse, smirk playing on your lips. That’s when he noticed it. Your wings had been stripped away, leaving horrid scars but otherwise, you’d remained angelic in appearance until now. Your appearance was slowly changing again. Canines extending some now, fangs forming if you knew what to look for. Something he picked up easily on after centuries of what he did.

“Can’t you just leave things be for once?” Yixing sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat over your statement already knowing how much he was going to have to work for it now if he was going to make any progress. Still, his nature showed through even when dealing with you, “Please?”

The way you bat your lashes as you saunter over to him is anything but innocent, gripping his jaw under your fingers, “Oh a please? Did you know you’re so pretty when you beg, angel?” 

The way he flusters makes you chuckle. Watching as the angel sputters over his words, trying to form a response. You decide it’s time to back off again, letting him come to you. This being your favorite form of the game when it came to these things.

“It’s not like we’re killing anyone Yixing. You really should loosen up, we’re just having a bit of fun after all. Something I could show you if you’d just let me. It’s something like you’ve never experienced before, angel.”

Farewell Summer - surf teacher Yixing, angst M [9.9k]

Map of the Heart - vampire Yixing’s lost memories [4.5k]

Back for You - you wonder if he’s ever coming back [2.9k]

And When I Realize - five Christmas movies after finals [2k]

True Colors - “are you cheating on me?”, suggestive [1.5k]

Red Lipstick - YX doesn’t like you, choreographer M [1.4k]

The Silent Treatment - texting while in the same room [1.3k]

Lift Off - fuck boy guard saves you on the place [1.1k]

❥ LAY NAVI

The next morning is much of the same. You wake up a little disoriented, but nonetheless slide out of bed and into the slippers you left waiting. The floor is always so cold in the morning and in the evening and your slippers can hardly fend off the cold. You change into a different dress in the closet, into a deep blue gown that you had trouble lacing up because the corset was just the slightest bit too small. You remedy the situation by sliding on an overcoat, buttoning each and every button. It wards off the chill in the air and you pad slowly to the vanity pressed up to the wall you hadn’t noticed the day before in your confusion and terror.

There’s a large mirror attached to the back of it, with little drawers and a seat cushion set in front of it. On the table is a golden hairbrush, intricate designs spiraling in a circle over the back of it, a large ruby set in the center. A matching hand mirror sits beside it. The Count and Countess did not even have such luxurious items in their household as you suspected the gold might be entirely real. Aside from the two items is a black wooden box, quite plain compared to the jeweled handset. A curious peek inside reveals glittering pieces of jewelry – you spy a string of genuine pearls, sapphire earrings, and garnet and diamond studded bracelets before you quickly shut it.

Raking the brush through your tired locks of hair, you regard yourself in the back mirror. Despite sleeping clear through the night, you look weary. Though talking to Junmyeon the morning before shed some light on your current situation, it had done nothing to set your mind at ease. When you had left your home to make the walk to the church, you had every intention of dying. You had believed you would be ripped apart and drained, much like that innocent boy had been. You had been waiting for the inevitability of death your entire life. You had kneeled every Sunday in church and every night before bed, praying that when it came you could still be saved.

Junmyeon had confirmed that your kidnapper had not brought you here just to kill you. If anything, you gathered that you were regarded as a piece of property to him. Not exactly a new concept to you, considering most marriages were arranged and young women like yourself were bartered off to the man with the highest place in society and the heaviest change purse. You, being a reasonably attractive woman and coming from a well-respected family, would have been good enough to be sold to Richard’s family. You would have been the next Countess and inherited his mother’s jewels and good standing, however you would have never truly owned anything. Everything would be Richard’s, and you would just be a conduit for his children.

You stood from the vanity, blinking images from a future you might have had out of your head. Sweeping your hair off your shoulder you make your way out of your room. Much like the day before, the hallways are mainly lit by candles, the heavy curtains still drawn over the windows. The path to the dining hall is empty of people, and you half expect to see Junmyeon waiting for you at the head of the table. Instead, it too is void of others, however the table is spread with much of the same breakfast food from the day before. You fill a plate with various fruits and cuts of meat before you pause. Being the only one present, and likely the only one in the house, why should you not take the head of the table?

Sitting down where the patriarch typically would affords you a rush of gratification. Although you look out to a table without companionship, the new vantage points allows you to regain some semblance of control over your life. One small decision seems to be enough to propel you through the day.

Junmyeon strolls into the hall while you’re finishing off the last of the sweet grapes. The amusement is plain on his face when he sees where you’ve chosen to sit. Awkwardly you begin to rise from the chair, but he waves it off and sits a few seats down. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“Yes…” You start, grasping for an excuse before you decide on a light shrug and the truth. “I did not expect to have company this morning.”

“I put in for an order of lemon tarts this morning for a reason.” Junmyeon states, leaning forward to pluck one from a plate. You watch him take a bite in confusion but decide not to question it. If the bloodsucking demon wanted to eat a lemon tart, you would let him enjoy it in peace.

“So might we revisit the reason on me being here?” You question him, watching him practically inhale the sweet treat and reach for a second.

“I believe I addressed why you were here yesterday.” Junmyeon states when he swallows. “And I believe I stated Yixing should be speaking with you.”

“If I’m to be forced to live here,” You begin, doing your best to keep the spite from your tone. “I’m going to need things that I do not currently have.”

“Like what?” Junmyeon questions, quirking an eyebrow, already halfway done with his second treat. There was only one remaining.

“Like…” You grasp for common items, not having expected him to actually care. “Well I’m going to need access to a bath, and soaps. Sanitary cloths for my cycles. Womanly things.”

“I’ll make sure to let Yixing know your list of demands for living here.” He states in amusement, standing and plucking the last treat from the table. “I’m sure he’ll fall over himself trying to get those things in order.”

He disappears from the room as you huff lightly, chewing on the last grape with more force than necessary. If they wanted to hold you hostage you at least had the right to be clean. After a few second of debating you rise from the head of the table, following him out to try to squeeze more answers out of him. He has already disappeared, and a quick search of the bottom floor shows that he must have made it up the stairs with alarming quiet and speed.

The rest of the day is spent trying to amuse yourself. You go on another tour of the castle, seeing if you can find anymore unlocked doors. There aren’t any. You run out of ideas to amuse yourself quickly and succumb to deciding to read the day away. While you love reading, it having been how you spent most of your days at home anyways, you had nothing else to do. You should have told Junmyeon to ask Yixing to procure more entertainment.

It is somehow easy demanding things from Junmyeon, or at least speaking to him in a normal manner. He was more human-like than Yixing had been, and if it weren’t for his red eyes and flash of pointed teeth you would have tempted to go as far and say the two of you could be friends. He felt more human, yes, but there were still times where he went far too long without blinking or you caught him looking at your throat.

The next few days pass by much the same. Despite not having a bible you say a short prayer every night, but you quickly begin to lose faith. You discover the room next to yours open the next day, inside being a large claw foot tub with steaming water. A table is set beside it, housing a plethora of soaps for your body and hair. A plush towel sits next to them. You close the door and bolt it shut, sitting in the scalding water until it turns cool and your skin is pruned. You took time to smell all of your options, settling on a mixture of vanilla and peppermint. You scrub and scrub and scrub until you have to get out and wrap the towel around your body.

In fact, every morning since your chat with Junmyeon has produced steaming bath water for your enjoyment. It immediately becomes the favorite part of your day, despite the piano that lulls you to sleep every night. You silently acknowledge the fact that not even those in the largest homes back in your village had the opportunity to bathe each and every day.

Junmyeon does not show up after the second day, but you find yourself not minding it. Though you miss human interaction, you’re content to wallow your days away in solitude, bath water, and tomes thicker than your torso. Which is exactly what you’re doing on the fifth day of the kidnapping – balancing a large book on your knees, peering down at the words in a plush chair in the library. Having chosen something outlining the lineage of a faraway land, you settled in with a cup of tea to read the afternoon away.

 You awake sometime later. The curtains you had drawn to let in the late afternoon sun might as well have been shut with all the light that was left. The sky was dark, what light the moon cast hardly penetrating through the window. Sleepily you shift, your legs sliding out from under you and falling stiffly to floor.

Hissing as you pull your feet back, you feel the residual sharp pinpricks of how cold the floor was. Winter was certainly setting in. Blearily you reach down and fumble blindly for the slippers you had discarded before shoving your feet into them. This time you weren’t shocked when your feet hit the floor, and you pushed yourself out of the chair. You stretch your arms above your head, yawning obnoxiously before your mind wakes up enough to realize you can year the piano weaving its way into the library from the music room upstairs.

You’ve never been out of your room when you hear the piano. You still don’t know who plays it. It could be Junmyeon, sure, or it could be Yixing or some other demon you’ve yet to meet – okay, slow down, you tell yourself, taking a breath to steady your increasing thumping heartbeat. The library is on the first floor, the music room on the second, and your room on the third. All you have to do is be quiet going up the stairs.

Creeping outside the library, you’re met with the characteristic stillness of the household. No one is roaming the halls and there’s no noise outside of the soft, lilting melody of the piano keys. It’s even more beautiful now that there’s one less door between you and its location. Closing the door slowly behind you, you began to creep towards the grand staircase. Candles were lighted in their perches on the walls, casting yellow and orange hues against the dark stone. Just a few stairs up, you pause. Was it the fourth or the fifth stair that creaked under added weight? You take a moment to wrack your brain for an answer before you decide to hike up your skirts and stretch to the sixth stair.

Narrowly avoiding a leg cramp, you push yourself back to a respectable position, straightening out your skirts and continuing to sneak up the rest of the staircase. There was only one other stair you had to avoid, and when you reached the top you mentally gave yourself a round of applause. One flight of stairs down, one flight of stairs to go. As you begin your light trek down the hallway towards the next flight of stairs, the feathery lilt of melody swelled, working towards a climax of what you were sure was to be an amazing end of –

“Hello.” A honeyed voice sounded from behind you. You spin in mid stride to face whoever spoke, but there’s no one there. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, squinting lightly into the weak light cast by the candles. There’s no one there.

“In front of you.” The same voice speaks from behind you once more. You spin again, this time coming face to face with another demon. You take an involuntary step back, back towards the stairs.

He’s easily the most attractive of the three. Towering above you, you see deep chocolate hair parted in the front, and his skin must have been naturally rich because last you knew these demons could not go out in the sun. His skin practically glowed despite the weak lighting, but that’s where the warmth stopped. A sharp jawline, plump lips quirked into a smirk, a straight nose, strong eyebrows, and blood red eyes. Junmyeon’s – even Yixing’s – had life in them, emotion and personality. This man’s were cold, lifeless. Dead, just like him.

“It’s rude not to speak when spoken to.” His voice is huskier than when he first spoke, but still dripping in honey. Immaculately dress, his jacket was unbuttoned halfway, his white shirt underneath similarly unbuttoned. An expanse of tanned skin showed, and you could practically see the iron muscles ripple underneath.

“Hello.” You suddenly find your voice and dip into an uncertain curtsy. He’s different from Junmyeon, different from Yixing. While you knew that they were both deadly, they didn’t look at you like you were a meal. They didn’t look through you.

The man in front of you suddenly smiled a full, toothy grin – and displayed for the first time the fangs you had heard so many rumors about when they spoke of the dead bodies found in the morning. Long, sharp, and almost mockingly glinting in the faint light – you couldn’t help but take another step back.

“That was adorable.” He stated in an amused tone. Your face flushed, and the thought of his fangs again sent your pulse skyrocketing. His eyes darted down to your neck, and he cocked his head to the side. It was as if he could hear your accelerated heart rate. A pink tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, eyes not straying from your neck. You take another step back.

“Just a taste.” He says to himself in a low tone, the amusement from before having vanished as quick as it showed and his eyelids drooped low, hooded. The piano has stopped, but you have no time to take note of this fact. His lips pull back to reveal his fangs again as he leans forward, arms reaching out to keep you from running away. It was like a train wreck. Fear consumed you, rooting you to your place and the only thing you could do was screw your eyes shut in an attempt to ignore what was happening.

“Here to save your little mate, hm, Xing?” The handsome man ground out, and you managed to crack open your eyes. Directly in front of you was a broad back clad in a black suit jacket. Even from behind, even from his shortened name you could tell it was Yixing. Something deep inside of your soul told you it was him.

“You should not touch ladies without permission, Jongin.” Yixing speaks, his voice even. The first time he had spoken to you it had been soft, gentle – now it had an undercurrent of suppressed anger and barely contained contempt. The power shifted in the hallway away from the demon named Jongin and he felt it immediately. From peeking around Yixing, you saw him retreat a few steps. His eyes flickered from Yixing’s to yours, and he sneered.

“Ladies shouldn’t be wandering at night. They don’t know what lurks in the shadows.” He warned, and then he was simply gone. You didn’t blink, at least you don’t think you did; he was just there one moment and gone the next.

Yixing turned to face you after a moment. His hair hung over his forehead now, but he was still just as beautiful. Red eyes peered down at you, and you couldn’t make it past the startling closeness to see the concern clouding them. You take another step backwards, trying to get some physical space in an effort to clear get a grip on your mind.

Except this time, your foot does meet the smooth wooden planks along the floor. Instead, it’s met by nothing but thin air and belatedly you realize that, in your terror of the demon, you had retreated to the first staircase. Having no time to correct your mistake, your body tips backwards as your balance is thrown off. As your arms flail out to try to regain control you let out a very unbecoming yelp at the prospect of falling down the stairs and likely cracking your head open on a step or the landing.

Once again Yixing is there to save you. He reaches to grab hold of your hand, pulling you away from the steps and pivots you around so he’s between you and your close brush with an embarrassment you would never live down. His hands are cold, impossibly cold, and the grip he has on you sends your heartbeat into overtime – scratch that, the proximity he’s holding you at does. One arm has snaked around your waist to hold you firmly to his body, as if he could protect you wholly from making another stupid mistake tonight. His slim build does nothing to hide the fact that he is solid muscle. His hands may be comparable to ice, but his core body just seems to lack heat and is cool through the few layers of clothing he has on. Your own body seems to thrum with the closeness of him, something stirring deep inside of you.

“Careful, little one.” His tone is scolding while his lips are pressed into a thin line, brows scrunched together. The concern is hard to miss this time and the revelation that this heartless being is showing some semblance of kindness to you sends you spiraling further.

Heat colors your cheeks, making it hard to deny the embarrassment you were feeling with the whole situation. Yixing’s eyes rake over your features and you note offhand that his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. It’s a similar reaction Jongin had before he tried to tear into your neck, however you find it hard to react to Yixing the same way. “I-I am so sorry.”

You’re sorry? You instantly cringe at the fact you had apologized to the man – the thing that had kidnapped you from a church just days beforehand. He must have something similar running through his mind because the widening of his eyes and slow blink tell the story. “You’re sorry?” He questions, shaking his head and letting go of you. Somehow, you’re left feeling colder when he does. “You should not apologize for having an appropriate reaction to my kind. You have nothing at all to apologize for.”

“The piano stopped.” You note out loud, voice surprisingly even. Yixing regards you closely, being able to tell so much had happened in such a short period of time for you that you were choosing to focus on the small things before you tackle the large ones. “Were you playing it?”

“Yes,” Yixing answers, adding more gently, “I think it’s time for you to get into bed, little one.”

“I think you’re right.” You concede. He moves to the side, gesturing politely that you continue on your way. The first few steps are a bit wobbly, still feeling blindsided by the events that just transpired. A blood thirsty demon trying to rip into your neck, another, slightly less blood thirsty demon saving you from him, and then saving you from your own clumsy self. You had found yourself wishing these past few days to just run into Yixing again so you could demand that he release you, demand that he take you home unharmed and leave you be. But here he was, looking impossibly handsome in the flickering light, being kind, and you could not bring yourself to do so.

He follows a pace behind, his presence following you down the hall and up another flight of stairs. When you enter your bedroom, he stops in the doorway; lingering, watching. You pull the blankets back from the bed, trying to think of what to say to the red-eyed man.

“Sleep well.” He states softly, beating you to it and reaching in to take hold of the doorknob, beginning to shut the door. Your heart leaps in your throat at the thought of being alone, at the thought of Jongin being somewhere in the house. They don’t know what lurks in the shadows. When Jongin had spoken it, you had taken it as a serious warning. It flared up in your mind again, spreading through you like wildfire.

“Wait!” The panic in your voice made him halt, looking up at you with widened eyes. “What if he ends up coming back?”

Yixing drew himself up to his full height, shoulders tense and expression solemn. “Jongin will not come back, nor will he hurt you. I will not let anyone hurt you. I promise it.” His tone was even but laced with seriousness you had not expected. It was hard not to believe the words when he conveyed them so earnestly.

You turn from him, trying to steady the warmth that spread through you at his sudden flare of protectiveness. Keeping your voice as even as possible, you manage to murmur, “I believe you,” as you slide out of your slippers and into bed. “And I want to talk tomorrow.”

Yixing nods, beginning to close the door once more. “Good night, little one.”

You were in the cafe. Waiting for your friend, Jongin to come. So, you ordered food. “Ma’am, what would you like to get?” The man in the counter asked. You answered, “Matcha latte and chicken pesto.” The man pressed random digits in the monitor. You were waiting for him to finish.

Then, you saw Jongin with a woman. She had fair skin, long black hair, beautiful brown eyes. Your beauty was nowhere near hers. Their hands are holding each other and as she joyfully talks to him, you can see the stars in his eyes and responses with such enthusiasm. It really looks like they are genuinely in love with each other. You were in no place to assume, you’re only his friend.

“Ma’am your order arrived,” The barista said nonchalantly. Snapping you from your long train of thoughts. You got the tray immediately. - You were disgusted by couples, the young ones specifically, and everywhere you go in this cafe, there is always a couple nearby. “You guys are going to break up anyway.” You silently said.

You sat on the table, holding the tray while the two were at your back, still lovingly gazing at each other. You wanted to snap and pour all the matcha on her. You don’t want to doubt their relationship, but you can’t help it. Jongin is your best friend since your mutual friend Yeji got you together on Kakaotalk.

Speaking of which, you opened the said app. You saw a message from Yeji.

Yeji (Name) I know you are hurt. Hurt from whatever crap jongin will say. I am not going to tell you if he hasn’t said it yet.

(Name) What is it? I am curious. I saw him with a girl

Yeji (Name) I’m going to let Jongin tell you.

You sent that message with anxiety. In the past few days, Gloria is acting weird, and same with Jongin. All are acting weird with you. His friends Taemin is also acting weird with you too like they are hiding something to you. - Anyway, Jongin and the girl started ordering their own food.

It’s a bright day in this quaint Parisian cafe and you do not want everything to be ruined. The two sat on opposite sides of the table. “Hi, Jongin.” You started first to break off the suffocating and intimidating air. “Hi, (Name).” He said to you while smiling. “This is my girlfriend, Lia.” Jongin introduced the girl beside him.

When he said those words, your tears fell down. “Excuse me.” You told them. You walked outside, then, he followed you. “Are you okay?” He asked You answered to him, “Obviously not.” You told him, wiping your tears. “I like you Jongin. I liked you.” You continued, emphasizing on the “Liked” part. Jongin understood your feelings. “(Name)… I’m so sorry.” You can hear the sadness in his words.

“You can find someone else to love. Don’t waste your time on me. (Name) I still want to be your friend.” He continued, holding your hand. Emphasizing on someone else. “I forgive you. I was the one who assumed.” You replied to him as you waled

“(Name), Yixing likes you.” Those words took you aback as you looked to your back and saw Yixing walking nearby with a bouquet of (favorite color) roses. He was looking handsome with his suit.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he has never seen you cry. In fact, he has never seen you cower, fear, or even get angry.

Oh.

So maybe that’s why excitement is coursing through his veins at the feeling of discovering this new side of you. It has always been you and positivity, the side that fits perfectly with Lay - the one he introduced himself as when he met you that fateful day.

But this side, this side that he’s only witnessing now… he thinks this side of you can possibly be with the real him, Zhang Yixing, in all his glory and darkness.

It is all astonishing to him, kind of like how one will feel if they are to discover a legitimate hidden treasure box. Which is why he revells in it.

He lets his gun linger on your left temple, your tears flowing nonstop coupled with small pleading whimpers that escape your pretty lips. He wants to kiss you, to thank you for allowing him to rediscover you in a way. So he does. Just one peck and he already feels a thousand times more connected to you. It feels so different to the other countless times you locked lips with him when you still haven’t found out who he is, and he loves this new experience.

Truthfully, he likes you. He really does. He had all the resources he needed to get hired in your father’s company and in a short span of time, he had already worked his way up to get to the position where he could extract the information that EXO needed. They told him they could just abduct and kill the right people, but Yixing is just never a fan of dirty work. As long as he can do things quietly, he will, but he also isn’t afraid of doing it the other way, too. 

You are just an extraneous addition to the equation, negligible in a way because really, you aren’t actually needed and you got involved only because he decided to indulge himself for a bit.

There’s no helping it, since you intrigue him to no end. Perhaps it’s because Yixing sees in you what could have been his life had he followed his family’s orders instead of going against them and being disowned shortly after. But he doesn’t hate you, not one bit. He sees how you value your life, how you don’t take things for granted, and how you’re thankful for each and every little thing even though you already have plenty more than enough as it is.

In his honest opinion, the world needs more of you. And that thought makes him smile.

Cupping your cheek with his free hand, he calls your name softly.

“[Y/N],” he murmurs with a small upward tilt to his lips. “Open your eyes and look at me, please.”

Shakily, you raise your head and lock gazes with him. The tender way he looks at you makes you gulp harshly, terrified of how calm he is even though he has a gun resting smack on the side of your head.

Your reactions amuse him, almost to the point where he wants to set you free, but he knows that would be unwise. If he lets you go, Junmyeon will send his men to get you and if that happens, it won’t be a pretty sight.

He likes you enough to spare you the gritty encounter so he decides he will dirty his hands instead.

“You know, I really liked you, [Y/N],” he says, still with the gentle look on his face. “But you’re just too curious for your own good.”

“Please, please, please, Lay, no,” you plead frantically. “I won’t tell anybody, I swear.”

“Oh, but we can’t take any chances. You already know too much.”

In a burst of confidence, you knock his arm off, running towards the door in hopes of escaping from him. Yixing spots the exact moment you realize you are doomed. You try pulling open the door, but to no avail and the next thing you hear is a chuckle from him when you collapse on the floor in unwilling resignation.

He feels his heart seize a little when he sees you slump on your knees, bawling your eyes out because of hopelessness. In a way, he feels sad for how in the end, nothing positive in your life matters when you’re face to face with death.

Well, death really never spares anyone, not even the kindest and the most gifted.

All’s fair in death and heartbreak after all, he thinks grimly.

Yixing moves to grasp your arm, turning you so you were facing him. He allows you one last glimpse of his tender, dimpled smile as a final attempt to at least divert your attention from what he is about to do, before he pulls the trigger and ends your perfect little life.

Pulling you towards him, he cradles your now lifeless body in his arms and he apologizes.

“I really am truly sorry,” he whispers to the wind as he gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

But the apology isn’t for you, no, it is for humanity and those unfortunate enough to have known you only to lose you untimely and so early. When he said the world needed more of you, he meant it. Too bad you got in their way, though, for EXO, his one and only family, is above all else.