HI EVERYONE
i have gotten back into kpop so please read my fics thank you
Three Goblin Art
Not today Justin
Game of Thrones Daily
trying on a metaphor

â

AnasAbdin

izzy's playlists!

pixel skylines
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
i don't do bad sauce passes

â

çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation

Kaledo Art
DEAR READER
Cosimo Galluzzi

romaâ
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

seen from T1
seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from Singapore
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Australia

seen from Singapore
seen from Lithuania

seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from United States
seen from Peru

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from T1
seen from Brazil

seen from United States
@vampirehansol
HI EVERYONE
i have gotten back into kpop so please read my fics thank you

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
heyo everyone
im gonna be honest im mostly making this post just so tumblr wont delete my blog for inactivity because i love this blog i just . dont write anymore
âbut jesse why dont you write anymore?â GREAt question its because im in college. its ruining my life. oh my god
but as previously mentioned here is my ao3 where i actually post things in the event that i do write, so go subscribe there and read my achievement hunter fics
thanks for all of your support!!!!!
perspective (leelaurensbury, 1.4k, rated t)
Read on Ao3
One relationship, from three different points of view.
-
John five years ago: sad, alone, eating Doritos in his dorm room, living in dirty-laundry-squalor.
John now: moderately not sad, definitely not alone, with the stench of burnt popcorn in his nose as he listens to his two (not one, two) boyfriends argue over who burnt it.
my Best Friend⢠@hunchulsbf wrote this amazing leelaubury fic the other day and I thought Iâd share it with y'all. love it. 11/10. good content. please read it and leave a kudos+comment, itâll make both of our days tbh
hey guys!! sorry that this blog has been completely dead, i pretty much stopped using tumblr so i never had the motivation to crosspost anything ;; if youâre interested in seeing what iâm up to now, here is my ao3!! thank you guys so much for your support :>
Extra Stars in the Sky Gift Exchange!
[ LIVEJOURNAL ] [ TWITTER ]
Hey! Iâve created a Monsta X (and, to a lesser extent, No.MERCY) gift exchange!
The sign-up form is HERE, and further information can be found on the LiveJournal linked. If you have any questions you can email me at the email given in the sign-up form, you can comment on any of the LiveJournal posts, and you can send me a message to my Tumblr!
I hope you will participate, and if you canât/donât want to, please tell a friend who may be interested! Thank you!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
0.5 cm [monsta x, no.mercy, etc] [part 1]
secret agent au // rated T // 14,211 words // written with @bucketfulloffandom warnings for: descriptions of violence, mild gore, explicit language
Liberty Organization, fighting for the greater good of South Korea. Blu Corp, fighting for the South Korean governmentâs top opposition. Gunhee, caught in the middle. (When everything goes well, you feel invincible. When everything goes wrong... a different story indeed.)
[read on AO3]
[!]
weeEEEE ARE 3 FOLLOWERS AWAY FROM 200!!!!!!!!!!
i seriously never thought that my fics would get this much attention ever. but now, my most reblogged fic has over 100 notes on its three parts!! and the runners up have 50+! it blows my mind that people like my fics so much, and even more so that almost 200 people have decided to follow for more!!
thank you all so so much for your support and kind messages!!! i hope we keep growing together ;A;
rosewine [monsta x, hyungwonho]
au // rated M // 2,643 words
Hyungwon is not the wisest person, but maybe heâs made a somewhat alright choice for once. (He just needs some cash. Thatâs all.)
[available in thai! credit to @sweet-hwh]
--
Hyungwon is fucked.
Well, not literally, though he wishes that were the case. Instead, heâs staring at a text from his mother informing him that no, they will not be paying for Hyungwonâs tuition next year because of his dreadful grades.
So, Hyungwon is looking at over twelve thousand dollars that he has to somehow scrape up over the summer.
âFuck me,â Hyungwon says, laying across Minhyukâs bed.
âI would, but Iâm currently taken, sorry.â Minhyuk says, not looking up from his laptop, dutifully typing out an essay like Hyungwon should be doing. âWhatâs up?â
In response, Hyungwon lays his phone across Minhyukâs keyboard, and Minhyuk sucks in a breath when he reads the text.
âThatâs rough, man.â Minhyuk says, looking up then. âWhat are you gonna do?â
âUh, I dunno? Cry a lot? Fuck.â Hyungwon buries his face in Minhyukâs comforter, groaning, âThis is the worst,â into the fabric.
âThis is indeed the worst, I canât even think of some cheesy line of garbage to cheer you up.â Minhyuk confesses, patting Hyungwonâs back. âWeâll think of something, Iâm sure. Maybe you can wow your parents in these last few weeks, prove that youâre worth funding.â
âI fucking doubt it, but thanks.â Hyungwon returns to his own bed, pulling the covers up over his head and whining. He hears Minhyuk laugh at him.
--
âSo,â Minhyuk begins, leaning into Hyungwonâs personal space as Hyungwon pulls his Subway sandwich free of its wrapper, âwhat are you willing to do to get that tuition money?â
âWhat do you mean?â Hyungwon asks, tilting his head up to look at Minhyuk and, as a result, bumping his forehead against Minhyukâs chin. âOw.â
âSorry. But, Iâve got an idea of what you could do. Wanna hear it?â
âGod, just spit it out.â
âGet yourself a sugar daddy.â
Hyungwonâs hands pause over his sandwich, fingertips lightly touching the bread. âWhat?â
âI said, get yourself a sugar daddy. Come on, youâre gorgeous, and probably a good fuck.â Minhyuk sits across from Hyungwon, resting his chin in his hands. âSo, what do you say?â
âI say you are a crazy bitch,â Hyungwon says firmly, picking his sub up and taking a big bite of it. âDo you have the contacts to arrange this?â
Minhyuk waggles his eyebrows, and Hyungwon rolls his eyes. âI do, actually.â
âHold the fuck on, thatâs not me conceding to this.â
âIt totally is! But, Iâm supposed to meet Kihyun for lunch in a bit, I just swung by to propose that to you.â Minhyuk stands up, nudging Hyungwon as he passes by. âThink about it, dude.â
Hyungwon sighs and sets about devouring his sandwich in peace.
He ends up all but forgetting about the exchange until, exactly a week later, Minhyuk slaps a slip of paper down on the lunch table.
âThe fuck is this?â Hyungwon asks, pausing with a chip resting against his bottom lip.
âThatâs your daddyâs number.â
Hyungwon throws the chip at Minhyukâs face.
âIâm serious!â Minhyuk says with a laugh. âI called the dude that Kihyun knows and told him about it and he was like, âI know just the guy!â and gave me this number. So Iâm giving it to you. Take it or leave it, negotiations are up to you and him, not me.â
Hyungwon studies the piece of paper, skimming the number, then reaches over and pockets it. Minhyuk grins, satisfied. âThis isnât me accepting this, by the way,â Hyungwon says, disgruntled.
âYouâre desperate,â Minhyuk points out.
And, well, he is. So, later that night, he waits until Minhyukâs gone to get something to eat and calls the number.
Heâs really not expecting an answer, but. âHello?â
Hyungwon has never claimed to be the most elegant of creatures, so he replies with, âYeah, hey, who the hell is this?â
Thankfully, the guy on the other end laughs, a gentle chuckle. âThis is Shin Hoseok, but call me Wonho, please. Who the hell is this?â
âChae Hyungwon. Someone, uh, gave me your number and told me that youâre, uh- told me you could help me.â
âOh, are you the one Hyunwoo was telling me about earlier? College debt, or something like that.â
âYep, thatâs me.â Hyungwon really cannot believe heâs having this conversation right now, talking to a potential daddy. He rolls over in bed and groans inwardly. âWhat, uh- shit, I donât know what questions I should be asking.â
âTake your time, dearest.â
Hyungwon cringes. âI- how reliable are you? Like, how much of a risk is this for me. Iâm not going to do this if you canât fork over the cash.â
Wonho laughs again, louder this time. âI assure you, Iâm very reliable. Iâm sitting on an inheritance thatâs five times what your tuition is, and slowly growing due to investments. Thereâs no worries there.â
Hyungwon feels a little lightheaded when he tries to imagine such a large amount of money. âUh, okay, Jesus shit. Uh, where do you live?â
âSeoul, close to your college, I believe. Are you going home for the summer?â
âNo, the college offers summer boarding and I really donât want to listen to my parents bitch at me for three months. Fuck that.â
âLovely, that means we can meet soon. Would you like to go out to dinner, just to discuss this more in-depth? You can make a decision then, thereâs no rush.â
â... Will you be paying?â
âOf course, dear.â
Hyungwon hears footsteps outside and, fearing that itâs Minhyuk, rushes to answer. âYes, yes, thatâs fine, uh, god. T-Text me? Tell me where you want to eat and Iâll meet you there, uh, Saturday atâŚâ
âIs nine good?â Wonho asks, and Hyungwon thinks itâs rather clear that Wonho has done this many times before, voice smooth as silk. It makes Hyungwon tingle a bit.
âYeah, thatâs fine. Uh, I gotta go. It was⌠nice to talk to you?â
âIt was nice to talk to you as well, dear. See you then!â
Hyungwon lets his phone fall onto the pillow beside him just as Minhyuk opens the door, carrying a pizza box.
âSup dude!â Minhyuk says, triumphantly holding the box over his head. âIâve brought dinner.â
Hyungwon mimics Minhyukâs victorious pose, hoping that his newfound nervousness doesnât show too much.
God, what the fuck is he getting himself into?
--
Hyungwon had an idea of what Wonho must look like just from his voice, picturing some sort of smart 30-something businessman with a nice suit. The only part of that he gets right is the nice suit.
Wonho is tall, but not as tall as Hyungwon, with a long face and a dazzling smile, brown hair parted expertly to one side. Heâs waiting at the door for Hyungwon and it occurs to Hyungwon that Wonho doesnât know what he looks like, so Hyungwon cautiously approaches and asks, âUh, are- are you Wonho?â
He was secretly hoping it wasnât Wonho, really, because this man in front of him is far too beautiful and Hyungwonâs current outfit, made up of his nicest clothes, are a far cry from Wonhoâs formal dress. Sadly, Wonho nods enthusiastically and gently takes Hyungwonâs hands in his.
âYouâre Hyungwon, correct?â Wonho asks, just for clarification.
âUh, yeah, thatâs me. Hey. How are you?â
âWonderful, and you?â
âI am nervous as all shit,â Hyungwon whispers, and Wonhoâs face lights up with a smile. Hyungwonâs heart beats a little faster, and he curses inwardly. âThis restaurant is way too nice for me. Youâre way too nice for me.â
âNonsense,â Wonho says, tucking Hyungwonâs hand into the bend of his elbow and leading him into the main dining room. âYouâre fine, darling. Just as gorgeous as the rest of us.â
The compliment settles oddly on Hyungwonâs shoulders and he stares at his feet instead of at the people around him or Wonho, careful to stay close to Wonho lest he run into a table or some shit. Wonho eventually stops at a booth along the wall, gesturing for Hyungwon to sit, and Hyungwon slides into one side of the booth. Wonho takes the other, smiling at Hyungwon.
A waiter brings over two menus and asks for their drink orders. Wonho orders a glass of champagne, and even though Hyungwon hates the stuff, he follows Wonhoâs lead and does the same.
âUh, have- have you been here long?â Hyungwon asks, and Wonho shakes his head.
âNo, not really. Just long enough to sort out our reservation.â
âOh god, you made a reservation?â
Wonho laughs. âOf course I did. Order whatever youâd like, dear.â
Hyungwon makes a point of not looking at any of the prices, all of it astronomical to him, and does as instructed. He eventually ends up with a steak, something he hasnât had in years, and downs two glasses of champagne just to feel like he fits in.
He thinks that this is a good experience above all else, being somewhat pampered for the night by a pretty boy who thinks Hyungwon is pretty. Wonho keeps talking to Hyungwon about Hyungwonâs college life, directing the conversation away from his own matters in a rather pointed manner. Itâs a charming gesture and Hyungwon feels his face growing warmer, but he wants to blame it on the alcohol.
âSo, do you like this?â Wonho asks once their plates have been cleared and theyâre waiting on the check.
âOh, hell yeah I do.â Hyungwon says, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, but Wonho just smiles and nods.
âIâm glad to hear that. Are you interested, then?â
Oh, yeah, that is why Hyungwonâs sitting in this five-star restaurant. âUh. Can I have a few more days to think about it?â
âAbsolutely! Thereâs no rush, I just wanted to see if youâd given it any thought yet.â Wonho reaches for one of Hyungwonâs hands, and Hyungwon gives it to him, smiling slightly when Wonho takes it in his gently. âIn any case, I think I would genuinely enjoy being friends with you, if nothing else. I donât think I can pay you for that, but if you decide this isnât for you, feel free to save my number nonetheless.â
âOh, I⌠yeah, yeah! Okay, thatâs fine. Save mine too.â
âI already have.â
God dammit. âYouâre too fucking smooth, I hate it.â
Wonho grins, running his thumb over Hyungwonâs knuckles. âGlad to know you like it.â
At the end of the night, Wonho walks Hyungwon out to his car, offering his suit jacket when Hyungwon complains of the cold.
âOh, god no, that thing costs more than I can fucking imagine,â Hyungwon says, shaking his head fervently. âIf I ruined it or something, I canât pay for that.â
Despite his protests, Wonho still drapes it over his shoulders, and Hyungwon snuggles down into the warmth. God dammit.
âDonât worry about returning it. Perhaps you can wear it for some nice occasion.â Wonho says, stopping at the side of Hyungwonâs car and waiting for Hyungwon to unlock it before opening the door for him.
âGod, youâre so fucking nice,â Hyungwon groans, slapping his hands over his face. âDo you want to kiss?â
âKiss?â Wonho repeats, and Hyungwon nods. âI suppose? If you want to, that would be fine, yes.â
Hyungwon puts his hands tentatively on Wonhoâs shoulders and Wonho places a hand at Hyungwonâs waist, pulling him a tad bit closer and kissing him gently. Itâs arguably the best kiss Hyungwonâs ever had, though most of his kisses are drunken and slobbery, and Hyungwon feels like heâs buzzing when Wonho pulls away.
âGet home safely, dear.â Wonho says, a soft smile on his face. Hyungwon nods, sliding into the driverâs seat and rolling the window down so he can wave at Wonho as Wonho walks away. Wonho waves back and, once heâs out of sight, Hyungwon takes a moment to let his head fall against the headrest and yell aimlessly.
The best date of Hyungwonâs life just had to be with a fucking stranger. God damn.
--
Hyungwon wanted to make a point not to tell Minhyuk a damn thing about his night out, but the instant Minhyuk asks him about the suit jacket (âYou told me you had a date but I didnât know thereâd be suits involved!â), Hyungwon spills.
âHoly shit!â Minhyuk yells once heâs done, bouncing excitedly on his bed. âHoly shit! So, are you gonna do it?â
âItâs worth a try, I guess,â Hyungwon says, flopping down on his bed and sighing when Minhyuk squeals from the other side of the room. âCome on, Minhyuk, calm down.â
âNo, this is huge! When have you ever taken my advice before and had a good outcome? This is such a success for both of us!â
â... True, true. But, Iâm gonna call him tomorrow I think, and tell him that weâre on, just to try it out.â Hyungwon drags his hands down his face. âItâs really nerve-wracking, honestly.â
âIt kinda sounds it. I donât need that because I have an actual job and also a boyfriend. Maybe one day you will also have an actual job and a boyfriend.â
âFuck off.â
--
Nervousness turns into excitement and boils down into heat under Hyungwonâs skin, Hyungwon crying out against Wonhoâs skin and pressing his body flush with Wonhoâs.
The first thing Hyungwon says after Wonho has collapsed beside him is, âHoly shit,â breathed out in a rush. Wonho laughs, reaching over to tuck some of Hyungwonâs hair behind his ear.
âWorth it?â Wonho asks, sounding as satisfied as Hyungwon feels.
âHell yeah.â
Wonho smiles, curling himself around Hyungwon and pulling the sheets over them. âSorry, forgot to ask if you were okay with cuddling.â
âDude, Iâm okay with anything. Iâm pretty sure you just gave me the best fuck of my life, cuddling is nothing compared to that.â
Hyungwon ends up staying the night, waking to Minhyuk texting him frantically and essentially shitting himself when Hyungwon tells him to chill the fuck out. Wonho offers breakfast but Hyungwon explains he has a morning class (which, is not a lie, except itâs three hours from now and he could totally eat breakfast but the embarrassment).
It feels almost like his typical one-night stands, but the idea that it will, most certainly, happen again is very new. Mostly his drunken nights are unsatisfactory and, in the end, complete garbage, and Hyungwon barely talks to anyone he fucks after the fucking occurs. However, this is definitely something Hyungwon could get used to.
Wonho kisses Hyungwonâs cheek before he leaves and it makes Hyungwonâs chest feel warm in the weirdest way. He hates it.
--
The strange feeling of dirtiness doesnât catch up with Hyungwon until heâs telling Wonho his bank account number for transfer purposes, and until he sees five thousand dollars in his deposit history.
âOh my god, Iâm a whore,â Hyungwon deadpans as heâs looking at his online bank statement, and Minhyuk snorts.
âIndeed. A monogamous whore, however.â
âGod, shut up.â
--
In just a few short weeks, Hyungwon has more than enough to pay for his last two years of college altogether and itâs very, very scary.
âYou donât understand, Iâve literally never had more than a couple hundred in my account at any given time,â Hyungwon explains while Wonho peers at him over the rim of his glass, filled to the brim with a chocolate milkshake that theyâre currently sharing. Itâs a very cozy date in a local diner, more what Hyungwon is used to. Heâs thankful for it.
âDo whatever youâd like with it,â Wonho says, setting the glass down.
âYou do realize we were given straws to drink that with.â
âFuck the straws. Fuck the system.â
Hyungwon chuckles and Wonho beams at him. âSweet boy, fucking the system and straws and such. The perfect boyfriend.â
âOh, so weâre dating now?â Wonho teases, and Hyungwon nods.
âWe might as well be. But still pay me.â
âThatâs not how dating works.â
âFuck the system.â
--
deep in the forest [monsta x, hyungwonho]
fantasy au // rated T // 4,443 words
Hyungwon does not mean to be exiled. Wonho does not mean to die. Sometimes, things happen anyway.
--
Hyungwon stares out his frosted window at the city beyond the forest, skyscrapers reaching for the clouds and a haze of smog hanging high in the sky. He feels the chill in his house, hears the drip of water telling him that his roof is leaking again, and wishes that he was there instead of here.
But, living in the city for people like him means certain death; necromancers are not welcomed by the king, and even if they were, Hyungwon could not handle wary gazes and mothers pulling their children closer as he walks by.
He is not a necromancer by choice. Some are born with light in their souls, bumbling auras of tenderness and compassion, raised into healers and priests and medicinal workers. Others are born with darkness black as night hanging over them, pouring from their hearts and staining their lives with scorn and mockery. They are hated, exiled, told that their powers are a disgrace. Hyungwon remembers the look on his motherâs face when he first took the life of a bird by accident, first caused a plant to wilt by running his fingers along its stems.
That was years ago, before Hyungwon had even entered school. Now, he is older, and instead of abandoning his powers, he embraced and nurtured them. He thinks himself to be quite skilled, but everything is at a cost.
His hands tighten around the mug of tea in his hands. His eyes move from the horizon to something more immediate, closer to his house, a shrouded figure shuffling slowly through the underbrush.
Hyungwon thinks for a few long moments that it could, perhaps, be one of his many necromancer friends, those exiled as he is, coming to visit or bring him something or tell him of a new spell. But, as the figure rounds the corner of his house, he spots the insignia of the kingdom and his blood runs cold.
However, he remains at the window, sipping his tea until the knocks fall heavy on his door. And then he walks to his door, the picture of peace, and opens it.
He is expecting a letter from someone in the capital or a rogue guardsman come to kill him for extra credit, but the man at his doorstep is pale and, upon further inspection, bleeding very badly from a wound on his shoulder. And, while Hyungwon knows he should shut the door once more, his own personal morals will not allow it.
âPlease,â the man whispers, voice shaking. So, Hyungwon steps to the side to make room for him to pass.
âWhatâs happened to you?â Hyungwon asks as he closes his door with his hip, latching it once more and taking a long drink of his tea before setting it down on the kitchen table.
âI- I was⌠attacked, by a beast of the forest, I-â The man is cut off when he collapses, passing out cold. His hand falls away from its place cradling the wound on his shoulder and thatâs when Hyungwon notices that his arm is missing.
Hyungwon, surprisingly, does not feel a twinge of panic, or anything resembling fear or uncertainty. Instead, he stoops and presses his fingers to the manâs pulse point, checking for life.
It is there, faint, and then it is not. And then the twinge is there.
Hyungwon has never used his resurrective powers on a human being before. Heâs done so on animals and plants, watched as they came back to life dull and colorless, entirely unlike the things his mother brought life back to. He rather thinks that death is better than that when a sentient soul is in play.
But⌠this is an opportunity, he believes, to see the full extent of his powers and their effect on human life when reversing death instead of causing it. And, really, whatâs the harm? Based on the patch on the manâs cloak, he is just one member of the guard. He will not be missed by the government.
Hyungwon is running out of time while he sits here, debating. So, he sits on the floor and takes a deep breath to steel himself, conjuring up his powers. It courses through his veins, thrumming dark and heady, and its heavy presence was once foreign but is now like the returning of an old friend. Hyungwon brushes the manâs hair out of his face and notes that he is quite young looking, and gorgeous.
Hyungwon cups the manâs face in his hands, running his thumbs across his eyelids, and then closes his own eyes. The release of power is almost sickening, pulling at Hyungwonâs stomach and heart, and what would have resurrected a dog or an orchid is not nearly enough. After the initial surge, itâs more like a wound oozing, easier than the first time. Hyungwon barely feels the blood dripping out of his nose, a sign heâs pushing himself too far, stores of magic not vast enough to handle the massive undertaking of bringing a human soul back from the great beyond. Especially not like this.
Hyungwon stops when his closed eyelids flash red, jerking his hands away. The sealing of his magic is almost as bad as the outpouring, nearly causing him to heave, and he hurries to wipe his face free of blood. His heart is pounding, and yet the heart of the man on his floor remains still and dead.
Hyungwon feels sad, almost, and he thinks itâs less disappointment over his âexperimentâ failing and more genuine grief for the life lost, the life he failed to save with the powers that were supposed to enable him to do so. He isnât sure what to do besides sit here and stare at the corpse in his house.
The only sound for a long while is Hyungwonâs own steady breathing and the chirping of birds outside, soft and distant. As a result, Hyungwon is nearly scared to his own death when the man gasps in a desperate breath, sitting bolt upright, and then is thrown into a coughing fit.
Hyungwon reaches out to do- something, heâs not sure what, but his hands end up hovering uselessly in the air between the man and him. The manâs coughs eventually come to a shuddering stop, and Hyungwon hurries to drop his hands to avoid making it awkward.
The man remains pale, and his shoulder is still bleeding. He looks at Hyungwon, and Hyungwon is almost relieved to find that his eyes are warm and brown. âYou,â the man whispers, and his voice is still high and shaky, âwhat did you do?â
Hyungwon is almost embarrassed to find that his hands are shaking. He stands and walks to the kitchen portion of his one-room house, taking a drink of his now-cold tea before he gathers bandages and alcohol to disinfect. âDo you not know what I am, dear?â He asks as he returns to the manâs side.
âN-No?â The man replies, hesitant.
âI am a necromancer,â Hyungwon says evenly, and takes small joy in the shocked look that crosses the manâs face. âYes, dear, you died. Quite thoroughly, as well.â
âOh my god,â the man says, and now heâs crying. Hyungwon sighs. âOh my god, oh my god⌠how, how? How did you- how?â
âTo tell you the truth, sir,â Hyungwon says, undoing the clasp on the manâs cloak so he can pull it away and get to his wound, âIâm not entirely sure myself. Iâve resurrected small creatures and plants before, but⌠never a human. Iâm⌠surprised that it worked, honestly.â
The man appears to be in shock, at a loss for anything else to say. Hyungwon carefully removes his shirt, then asks, âWhat is your name, dear?â
âOh, my name, itâs- you⌠you can call me Wonho.â
Hyungwon nods. âOkay, Wonho. You can call me Hyungwon.â
--
Wonho falls asleep almost the instant Hyungwon gets his shoulder bandaged. Hyungwon does him the service of moving him to his own bed, then sets about cooking him something good to eat. Heâs not sure if those resurrected with black magic need to eat, but in any case, Hyungwon himself is hungry.
Wonho does not rouse until Hyungwon wakes him, placing a bowl of soup in his hands and a large mug of herbal tea on the side table. Wonho looks at him in seeming confusion for a long time, then casts his eyes to the bowl.
âWhat is this?â Wonho asks eventually, voice faint from disuse.
âRabbit in broth, with some vegetables. Corn, peas, carrots, you know.â Hyungwon makes a vague gesture to imply more assorted garden bounty, and Wonho nods slowly.
âIt- It smells great,â Wonho says, with all the enthusiasm of a small child. Hyungwon smiles.
âWell, letâs hope it tastes half as good. Come on, eat up.â
Wonho does as instructed, having most of the bowl devoured by the time Hyungwon has his own dipped and a chair pulled up to sit beside the bed. Hyungwon watches as Wonho drains the bowl of its broth and remaining peas before exhaling contentedly, sinking back into the mound of pillows created to prop him up.
âThat was lovely,â Wonho says, turning his head so he can look at Hyungwon. âThank you, so much, I donât know how to repay you for anything youâve done.â
âThe good news is that you donât have to,â Hyungwon says, pausing to sip his own broth. âI require no payment for spur-of-the-moment services, or something like that.â
Wonho nods simply, watching Hyungwon eat. Hyungwon lets him stare curiously without calling him out on it, knowing that the man canât be expected to have perfect manners when he just lost and regained his life all in one day. After a long while, he begins quietly, âYour handsâŚâ
Hyungwon shifts his bowl to one hand so he can extend the now-free one in front of him, studying his fingers. They are paler than the rest of his skin, veins dark, purple splotches like permanent bruises blooming across his knuckles and fingertips. Hyungwon closes his hand into a fist a couple times, then lays his hand on the edge of the bed.
Wonho takes the silent invitation and takes Hyungwonâs hand in his, pulling it up to his face for closer examination. Hyungwon sets about finishing off his soup while he does this. âCold,â Wonho remarks. Hyungwon hums into his bowl in acknowledgement. âIs this from the, uhâŚâ
âThe necromancy, yes,â Hyungwon supplies once the bowl is away from his face. âYou still have some tea. Drink it or I will.â
âGo ahead,â Wonho says, a smile coming to his face when Hyungwon shrugs and takes the mug for himself. Wonho closes his hand around Hyungwonâs and Hyungwon lets him hold it. âIs that blood on your face?â
âMost likely.â
âMine or yours?â
âMy own, probably. A side effect of overexertion when youâre a magic user is the bleeds.â Hyungwon takes a drink of the tea, setting it back on the side table when heâs satisfied. âItâs troublesome, but not too much of a worry. Itâs simply⌠a warning, a sign you should stop before things get much worse.â
âDid resurrecting me cause that?â Wonho asks, and it seems like the words pain him to say. Hyungwon nods silently. âAh⌠Iâm sorry.â
âDonât be. Neither one of us knew you were going to die in my house tonight, and I didnât know that I could resurrect someone so easily. I was expecting a lot worse, in fact, so a little blood from the nose and eyes is nothing.â Hyungwon smiles, then, after a momentâs thought, squeezes Wonhoâs hand. Wonho squeezes back. âYou should get back to sleep. The loss of a limb is a lot of physical trauma to recover from, not to mention the whole death thing.â
âWill you be here when I wake up?â Wonho asks, and Hyungwon thinks itâs a rather silly question.
âOf course, Iâve got nowhere else to be.â Hyungwon says, standing. He hesitates for a moment, then brushes his hand through Wonhoâs hair. âSleep, dear.â
Wonho does.
--
âWhat are you doing?â
Hyungwon sighs. âAlways asking me questions, like a little child.â
âWell, when you haul a boar carcass in here without a word, put it on a spit, and then start draining it into a glass jar, Iâm bound to have some questions.â Wonho replies from his current position sitting in the floor, watching Hyungwon do the aforementioned.
âPoint taken,â Hyungwon says blandly. âItâs not any old boar, dear, it has the brand of Hecate on it, which means itâs from the temple down south. Weâre going to get a lot of money for this jar of blood.â
âWeâre?â Wonho repeats. âSince when is there a we?â
âSince you bled all over my front stoop,â Hyungwon replies. âAdmit it, there is no way you can ever go back to the capital. Itâs been weeks, theyâll have already held a funeral for you. If a search party came through, I can guarantee they did not go deep enough into the forest, lest they end up like you did.â
Wonho looks rather crushed for a moment, but Hyungwon puts it aside in favor of quickly switching out jars, as the first is getting too full. Blood splatters onto the hardwood floor and Hyungwon makes a face of distaste, hurriedly positioning the jar beneath the throat of the boar and sealing up the other one. Wonho remains quiet for a long while before quietly asking, âHow much money will we get for it?â
âAt least twenty thousand pieces of gold, maybe more,â Hyungwon says, and he smiles when Wonhoâs face lights up. âMore than you would have made in a year working for the capital as a common guardsman, right?â
Wonho nods eagerly. âDefinitely. Do you always do stuff like this?â
âNot always, but frequently. I have many friends at the marketplace.â
âThereâs a market for things like this?â
Hyungwon laughs. âDear, you have so much to learn about the exile community. Only fitting, since youâre now one of us.â
â... One of you?â Wonho repeats, voice small. âBut, Iâm not-â
âI know youâre not a necromancer,â Hyungwon cuts in, pausing to wrap his hands around the boarâs neck and wring it to squeeze any last drops of blood out. âBut you were resurrected with black magic, and that means the kingdom no longer wants any part of you. Youâre just like the rest of us out here in the deep forest, now.â
Wonho doesnât say anything more, seemingly taking in the information. Hyungwon sets about disposing of the boar, knowing the meat will probably turn out dry and tasteless now that thereâs no blood to it (and he doesnât have a particular liking for pork, anyway). When he comes back, he sees that Wonho has already sealed the second jar for him, and he nods to him in silent approval.
âWeâll take this and some other wares to the market tomorrow,â Hyungwon informs as he scrubs his hands. âDonât worry, Iâll keep you safe while weâre there. Nobody will be able to tell youâre a capital boy.â
âHow do you know?â Wonho asks, rising and coming to stand beside Hyungwon. Hyungwon finds that he is slightly taller than Wonho.
âBecause you smell like I do, now.â Hyungwon replies. âAnyone around there with their devilhounds sniffing for rats will only find the stench of darkness.â
âYou know, I really donât understand half of what you say,â Wonho says. Hyungwon cackles.
âDevilhounds are beasts bred to pick up specific scents,â Hyungwon explains, hefting the jars up onto the counter. âThe government used to use them, but now theyâre more of an underground thing. They sniff out people from the capital trying to find dirt on the exile community.â Hyungwon leans down, pressing his forehead to Wonhoâs and whispering, âAnd then they eat them.â
âOh,â Wonho replies lamely. Hyungwon smiles and straightens, brushing past Wonhoâs good shoulder and coming to sit on the couch. Wonho sits beside him. âSo, do humans trade at this marketplace?â
âWell, that depends on your definition of a human. Iâm a human, you know.â
âYou know what I mean.â
Hyungwon pats Wonhoâs knee. âI do, I do. Yes, they do trade at the market. Lots of local women make their living at this market, selling food and medicine to exiles. Itâs a good business. I sell potion- and spell-related things, like the boar blood. Iâve also got some old spellbooks to put up for trade, Iâm hoping someone will have some newer collections to give me in return. And other miscellaneous things that weâll sort through in the morning.â
Wonho nods. âOkay. Iâm⌠Iâm excited.â
âIt is rather exciting, I suppose. I was exiled at a young age, so the market almost raised me.â
âHow old were you?â
Hyungwon debates whether or not itâs wise to share personal details. Then, he decides that Wonho will probably spend the rest of his life in this community now, so Hyungwon has nothing to lose. âI was fifteen,â Hyungwon says, looking away from Wonho and at the floor. âMy mother tried to steer me away from black magic, because she and my father both were white magic users. My father was a doctor and my mother worked as his nurse. I outright told my mother that this is what I wanted to do, this is the life I wanted to pursue⌠so she told me that I got what I deserved and turned me into the local guardsmen. I was exiled within the month and an old lady gave me this house. Said she was going to die soon, so someone else deserved it. Iâve lived here ever since.â
âHow old are you now?â Wonho asks, voice soft.
âTwenty-four.â Â Hyungwon replies, matching Wonho in tone. Itâs an oddly intimate moment for Hyungwon, as he doesnât get to share much about himself with others very often for fear of being shunned even further than he already has been. Itâs apparently not just him, however, because Wonho offers his hand for Hyungwon to take. Hyungwon does, their fingers slotting together easily.
âAre you adjusting well to having only one arm?â Hyungwon asks, laughing when Wonho shakes his head exaggeratedly.
âNo, heavens no⌠itâs so difficult. I sometimes think that staying dead would have been better than having to live with only the one arm.â
âI can always kill you again,â Hyungwon teases in a sing-song voice, and itâs Wonhoâs turn to laugh now. âHere, tell me something about yourself, in return for all that I spilled to you.â
âOh, dear⌠thereâs nothing special, nothing to match what you told me.â Wonho seems a bit embarrassed, cheeks coloring. âIâm just⌠the son of a guardsman, fourth generation. There wonât be a fifth, I suppose. And now I guess Iâm⌠a necromancerâs assistant.â
âIsnât that a lovely title,â Hyungwon jokes, but Wonho nods.
âItâs got a nice ring to it, doesnât it? I like it.â
Hyungwon thinks for a moment, mulling it over in his head. A necromancerâs assistant. Interesting. âI like it too,â Hyungwon says eventually. âBut, itâs late. We need some sleep if weâre to get up early tomorrow, the market closes early. Come on.â
Hyungwon stands and pulls Wonho to his feet, not letting go of his hand as he leads him over to the bed. Hyungwon long since abandoned any chivalrous acts of sleeping on the couch for Wonhoâs comfort since Wonhoâs shoulder has healed enough to not cause horrible pain if accidentally bumped in the night. Wonho has, thankfully, embraced this in more than one way, Hyungwon waking up frequently with Wonho nuzzling into his neck or holding onto his hand. Itâs quite endearing.
Once theyâre settled in bed and Hyungwon thinks Wonho has dozed off, Hyungwon whispers to himself, âIâve missed company so badly.â
And, a few moments afterwards, Wonho whispers back, âIâll stay as long as you let me.â
--
In the morning, Hyungwon rips the kingdom insignia off of Wonho's cloak and scrubs the blood out of it.
"Here," Hyungwon says, handing it to him. "Good as new."
Wonho tries to put the cloak on by himself, but ultimately fails, looking to Hyungwon for help. Hyungwon smiles and drapes the cloak around Wonho's shoulders, gently fastening the silver clasp on the front. Wonho returns his smile and they set about packing up all their wares for the market.
The market is bustling as usual, in its regular place towards the deepest section of the forest in a long cleared-out field. Hyungwon has always shared a stall with one of his old friends, Kwangji, and Kwangji calls out a happy greeting as Hyungwon and Wonho approach.
"Hyungwon!" Kwangji says once Hyungwon is behind the stall, helping him unload his things. "And who is this?" Kwangji asks, directed towards Wonho.
"This is my new friend, Wonho," Hyungwon says, figuring that it's alright to toss out Wonho's name since Wonho is a nobody around the capital and will now be a permanent fixture at the market just as Hyungwon is. "He's new to this line of work, and has no magical abilities."
"Ah, well, we welcome your presence nonetheless." Kwangji says warmly, and Wonho matches the sentiment in kindness.
Expectedly, the boar blood is picked up for twenty thousand pieces of gold a jar, and the herbal tea bags that Hyungwon prepared himself go for ten pieces of gold per box of twenty. Hyungwon goes home with the same exact spellbooks he came with, but he decides it's a good outing nonetheless, and gives Wonho a thousand pieces of gold to spend around the market for himself.
Wonho returns with two cinnamon buns and gives Hyungwon one of them while Hyungwon is discussing corn prices with a stall owner. Hyungwon makes a noise of surprise, then pulls the bun from Wonho's hand and takes a bite. It's warm, very sweet, and honestly tastes like a little piece of heaven.
"Thank you, dear," Hyungwon says over his shoulder, and the stall owner, Jinye, giggles behind her hand. "What?" Hyungwon asks, directed at Jinye since Wonho is off again to find more things to buy.
"You don't call anyone 'dear'," Jinye says, tying bushels of grain off with twine. "What's so special about him?"
"He's... he's my friend." Hyungwon replies, taking another bite of the cinnamon bun in his hand. "It's... you don't understand how lonely I get in my house, Jinye. He helps fill the space."
"Oh, so he's living with you?" Jinye asks, teasing edge to her voice.
"Yes, the same way Solbin lives with you." Hyungwon says, and watches with satisfaction as a fluster rises to Jinye's face.
"Come on, Hyungwon," Jinye whines, and Hyungwon grins.
"Alright, fine. Here, give me some of that dry oatmeal. I'll feed it to Wonho." Hyungwon digs up fifteen pieces of silver, the price that it's always been for oatmeal at Jinye's stall, and Jinye takes it gratefully. She hands over the tin of oatmeal with a bright smile and Hyungwon returns it, waving as he moves on to the next stall.
In the end, they return home with the oatmeal, another few cinnamon buns, a large assortment of vegetables, and some first aid supplies to replenish the stores that Wonho depleted when his wound still required more attention.
Hyungwon puts the rest of the gold they earned today in the same urn he puts all his other money and sets it on the top shelf of his herb and spice cabinet. He turns to Wonho with a satisfied smile.
"A great day's work!" Hyungwon says proudly, feeling light and happy for the first time in a long time. "But, here, I want to see your shoulder for a moment."
"Alright, let me just sit down..." Wonho does sit, on the couch, and Hyungwon sits beside him. "I think it was too much excitement, I feel so sleepy."
"Entirely possible. You can take a nap after I fix lunch." Hyungwon carefully removes Wonho's cloak, hiking his shirt up and not missing the bumps of muscle beneath his fingers when his hands run up Wonho's torso. He tries his best to ignore it in favor of the task at hand, tearing away the bandages carefully to reveal the freshly scarred skin beneath, some dark scabs still lingering in places. Hyungwon gently touches it, feeling the odd bumps hidden beneath the skin, and he remembers seeing Wonho dead on his floor, remembers his soft, pale cheeks beneath his hands.
Wonho's cheeks are still soft and pale and there are hollows beneath his eyes that reflect the ones under Hyungwon's. Hyungwon cups Wonho's face in his hands and looks into his eyes, searching for- something, something, he's not sure what.
Wonho mimics Hyungwon as best he can, thumb rubbing the soft skin beneath Hyungwon's left eye. Then, he says softly, "You were lonely, weren't you?"
"Very," Hyungwon agrees, sliding his hands down to rest on Wonho's shoulders, then to push his shirt back down. "I... I don't know how to explain it. I feel better with someone here with me."
Wonho nods. "I'm glad I'm not alone in the forest. Or dead. Or... even if someone from the capital had found me, I would have been discharged from service... given some kind of badge of honor or something even though it was my own stupidity that lost me my arm. Being useless is worse than being dead."
"You won't be useless around here, I always need someone to help me but I've never had the help." Hyungwon feels a little sad at the admission, like it's been sitting heavy on his heart for a long while. "I've been by myself for years, so I never thought it would bother me, but... I just..."
"You don't have to make excuses for it," Wonho whispers, and then he kisses Hyungwon, just like that, gentle but all in a flustered rush. And then he kisses him again, and again, and again, and Hyungwon can taste the faint cinnamon from earlier in the day on his lips.
--
So, Hyungwon still lives in the forest, and still stares at the capital on the horizon. But now he has someone to share the chill with him and hear the dripping of his roof leak, someone to hope and dream with, someone to teach and help, someone to love.
Wonhoâs slender fingers drip with ink, and instead of writing the rune Hyungwon told him to, he writes Hyungwonâs name. Hyungwon dips his own fingers in the inkwell and writes Wonhoâs name on the papyrus too.
They are alone together, and that is fine.
[!] mini-hiatus!
iâm participating in nanowrimo this year, so iâm planning on not writing anything besides my novel until the end of november!!!
iâm writing fanfiction for first time nano ease, so i will definitely post it once iâm done!
thank you all for your patience and support!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
still [toppdogg, pgohn]
help me breathe // rated T // 4,701 words
Sehyuk comes back and tries to make things right. (He feels better, but he doesnât know for how long.)
--
âTell me what happened.â
Sehyuk stiffens, just a bit. âWhat do you mean?â
âLook, Sehyuk,â James says, sitting on the edge of Sehyukâs desk, âI know something had to have happened. You havenât told me anything at all about what you used to do, you just told me you were into some bad stuff and then moved over here. But, like⌠it had something to do with Dongsung, didnât it?â
Sehyuk sighs, closing his textbook begrudgingly. âGod. I didnât want to tell you because I still have to spend two more years with you and I didnât want you to think I was⌠I donât know. A monster.â
James looks offended. âDo you think Iâm that much of an ass that Iâd write you off just on your past? Tell me what happened, I wanna know.â
Sehyuk takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. âThereâs sects over here, right?â
âIn some of the big cities, yeah.â
âI was the leader of one, one of the⌠not biggest, but most famous ones in Seoul.â
âHoly shit, dude.â
âAnd I was a shitty leader,â Sehyuk says, with the intent to squash down any awe James might be holding. âDongsung⌠god, I donât want to tell you what I did to Dongsung.â
âWell, better now than later. Might as well just say it.â James is quiet for a moment, then he sighs and says, âCome on, man, really. Iâm not going to think less of you for anything you did like, what, fifty thousand years ago.â
Sehyuk smiles, barely. âI destroyed him. I did things to him that I shouldnât have and stripped him down into the ideal person that I wanted at the time. He protected me, kept me safe. For a long while he was⌠all I had, and when he slipped away I panicked and ruined things even more. Sorry doesnât cover anything Iâve ever done to him but he still accepts it, he stillâŚâ Sehyuk trails off, pressing his fingertips to his eyelids to ward off tears. âI ruined his fucking life and he still loves me.â
âIs that why you cried, then?â James ask, then clarifies. âI mean, when he texted you âI love youâ a couple months ago. You were a mess, dude.â
Sehyuk nods, laughing. âYes, thatâs why. I couldnât believe it, I mean- I suspected, I suspected that he was still⌠not right. Thatâs the only reason why he feels like this, still, and Iâm sure of it. Give him some years and heâll be over it, heâll- heâll remember why he wanted to kill me in the first place and weâll be done again.â Sehyuk lets his hands fall away from his face, staring up at the ceiling instead of at James. âMaybe thatâs best.â
âYeah, maybe so, but youâve got this for now. Youâre going back to Korea to see him next month, arenât you?â
âYeah. I promised him I would, and I donât want to disappoint him anymore than I already have throughout the years.â
James is silent, thoughtful. âDid you mean to?â He asks, eventually. âDid you mean to ruin him?â
âOh, definitely, at the time.â Sehyuk replies, and the words seem far too casual to his ears. âI had unrealistic expectations of what my sect members should do and be for me. I shoved Dongsung into that mold and he filled it out perfectly within a few years. And I feel so fucking bad.â
âWhat was he like, before? Do you remember?â
âMean.â Sehyuk taps his fingers on the edge of the desk, trying to remember, thinking back to the young man with the bright blonde hair, fire burning in his eyes. âLoud, and inappropriate. A good cook. He tried to kill me the second day he was there⌠I told him myself to kill me within the first month he was there. He didnât do it either time, as you can see.â
âMmhm. And⌠what is he like now? I mean, Iâve talked to him before when youâve been on call with him, but I just⌠yâknow.â
Sehyuk canât even think of the words to describe it, too many he could say sitting in the back of his throat. âSweet,â he settles on, at least for starters. âDevoted. To me, the wrong person. Heâs⌠happy, heâs happy. And I donât know how he is when Iâm still here, in his life.â
âMaybe itâs time to stop wondering those kinds of things,â James offers. âStop thinking youâre the worst person on planet earth. A man cannot become trash as long as he lives.â
âYou stole that from a fucking manga.â
âIt serves its purpose, Sehyuk.â
Sehyuk chuckles, holding up a fist. James bumps it with his own. âThanks, for not killing me.â
âIt seems like you got plenty of death threats in the past, you can do without my contribution.â
James goes back to his own work, which proves to actually be texting his girlfriend and not any real work. Sehyuk opens his textbook again, staring at the marked paragraphs that his professor said they all had to read. The ink has smudged into the yellow highlight a little bit.
âI wish Iâd never turned out like this,â Sehyuk whispers to himself. James, thankfully, isnât paying enough attention to hear.
During his flight, Sehyuk reads through his and Dongsungâs conversations.
Sehyuk deleted every single text from everyone when he moved. He kept his number the same but nobody bothered to text or call him, most likely figuring (correctly) that he wouldnât answer. So, the first text from Dongsung is,
Dongsung: It was nice talking to you tonight I hope we can do it again soon
Sehyuk still remembers it, the awful burning in his chest when James tapped him on the shoulder and told him some dude named Dongsung called you. Beyond that, he remembers seeing Dongsung while he was browsing for a register to check out at, seeing Dongsung with newly cut and dyed hair hidden beneath a hat bearing his companyâs name and resolving to talk to him, just once. Sehyuk knew it would have been better, in the end, if he had found another register and left the store without Dongsung ever knowing heâd been there, without him ever knowing that Sehyuk had even been back in Korea. But Sehyuk was very near desperate to know if Dongsung was doing okay, if he was healthy and safe and happy.
Once upon a time, Sehyuk didnât care about any of that, not even for himself. Now, itâs all he wants for everyone around him. (But maybe still not for himself.)
Their conversations are awkward, clipped, single word responses most of the time. The majority of the messages from the past few months are asking nothing but âare you free?â and âcan I call you?â.
Conducting most of their conversations over video call is somehow harder for Sehyuk, because even through a grainy camera he can see the way Dongsung looks at him. It⌠complicates things, to say the least. Sehyuk had no problem with being friends with Dongsung, truly wanted to because he still wants to make sure Dongsung is doing well, but Dongsung loving him twists the knife in deeper for both of them. Even if Dongsung doesnât know it yet, Sehyuk already does.
Sehyuk knows a lot about Dr. Lee Seoyoung, just from Dongsung. Dongsung goes to a therapist, because of Sehyuk. He tells Seoyoung about the things Sehyuk did to him and how Dongsung is moving on and coping with it. He tells Seoyoung about how him and Sehyuk are friends now. Seoyoung tells him itâs a bad idea. Seoyoung is right.
But Dongsung always did listen poorly before. Sehyuk shouldnât have expected anything more from him now.
Sehyuk and Dongsung are friends. Sehyuk still has not told Dongsung that he loves him, even though as of recent thatâs all Sehyuk can think about. He has always loved Dongsung, and always wanted Dongsung to love him back, but the shred of love that bloomed that night in the market is something Sehyuk put there himself a long time ago. Thereâs no way that itâs anything but that.
Or, maybe Sehyuk is still dwelling on the revelation that he had when his bravado first split. Stripping all the walls heâd put up to keep people out and to keep himself in check left him with only the fact that he was never deserving of what he thought he was and spent his whole life trying to prove to himself and everyone around him that he was.
Sehyuk almost chuckles when he thinks of what James told him. A man cannot be trash as long as he lives. Itâs easier to tell himself that he is than to tell himself that he isnât.
--
The first thing Dongsung does when he sees Sehyuk is pick him up, easily lifting him into his arms and kissing his cheek as fervently as he can. It honestly scares the shit out of Sehyuk and he scrambles to hold onto Dongsungâs shoulders, laughing nervously.
âIâm so glad you came,â Dongsung says, loud enough that Sehyuk can hear him over the din of the airport lobby.
Sehyuk waits to reply, Dongsungâs hold on him tightening slightly. âI am too,â Sehyuk says eventually. Dongsungâs face lights up with a smile.
Sehyuk is staying at Dongsungâs apartment because Dongsung told him not to bother finding someplace to stay for a month and a half when he could just as easily stay with Dongsung for free. Sehyuk was wary at first, but in the end decided heâd rather not spend his money on housing when he had an offer open for him right fucking there.
Dongsung catches Sehyuk up on what heâs been doing as they drive over, which ends up being not much. Dongsung still works at the same place after two years, heâs friends with Sehyukâs old friends in the South Sect now due to Yoori, and he talked to Hansol the other day.
Sehyuk offers a briefing of his life in return, talking about tests he passed and failed and his new lab partner and how heâs on the dance team now. Dongsung is absolutely enthralled and calls it exciting. Sehyuk laughs.
Dongsung explains that he has no guest room once they get to his apartment and Sehyuk tells him itâs fine. Heâs not opposed to living out of his suitcase for a month and a half, and also not opposed to the couch.
Despite it all, it feels familiar, even though Sehyukâs never been in Dongsungâs apartment before now. Maybe itâs because of Dongsung himself: bangs grown too long and hanging in his eyes, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his coat, mouth quirking up like heâs about to say something.
Theyâre things Sehyuk remembers from before. He remembers cutting Dongsungâs hair so it wouldnât block his view and remembers folding their hands together so Dongsung would stop moving them and remembers telling Dongsung go ahead, dear, say what you want.
It hurts.
--
âCan IâŚâ Dongsung says, almost too quiet for Sehyuk to hear. Theyâre watching a movie together and Dongsungâs hand is hovering above Sehyukâs head.
Sehyuk figures that Dongsung wants to pet his hair, so he nods. He was right, and Dongsung sets about stroking Sehyukâs hair gently, pausing to pull through tangles or rearrange it slightly.
âYour hair is so long now,â Dongsung says simply, twisting a bit of it around his finger. âIt looks good on you.â
Sehyuk smiles. âThank you. James keeps telling me to get it cut.â
âDonât,â Dongsung whispers.
Sehyuk stays silent, focusing his attention on the movie they managed to catch on TV. Itâs some sort of horror flick that Sehyuk thinks heâs seen before. As the heroine is hiding in a closet from the killer, Sehyuk says quietly, âWhy donât you hate me?â
Things stay quiet, for a long while, as the heroine is injured badly and stumbles out of the room. She searches for her love interest, who was shown half-dead in the garage a few shots ago. Dongsungâs fingers pull stray hairs away from Sehyukâs neck.
âI donât know,â Dongsung replies eventually. âI- I was sitting here, trying to really think of a reason that would⌠make sense. ⌠I guess my reason is that I donât want to.â
The heroine finds her dying lover. She cries. âYou should,â Sehyuk murmurs.
âI know.â
The love interest dies with final words on how to defeat the killer. âWhy donât you want to hate me?â Sehyuk asks. âEven- Even if you couldnât, in any way, you should still want to, I think. So why?â
Dongsung gathers Sehyukâs hair into his hands, like a ponytail. He holds it for a few moments, then drops it. The surviving characters band together again and work off of aforementioned dead loverâs dying sentiment on how to destroy the axe-wielding serial killer whoâs been plaguing them. âBecause I donât have anyone else, Sehyuk. I mean⌠sure, I have friends, I talk to them and everything, but⌠even though the circumstances were worth hating, weâve known each other for long enough that I canât- I just canât.â
Dongsung is quiet for a few beats. He starts fiddling with Sehyukâs hair again. Sehyuk keeps his eyes on the screen. âYou want me to hate you. Is that it?â
Sehyuk closes his eyes. They burn, and heâs not sure if itâs hot tears or from lack of blinking. âI do, yes. Not because I donât want to deal with you, but because I donât want to hurt you.â
Screaming from the surviving characters. Something that sounds like the rush of a fire. âYou wonât.â
âI will.â
âYou wonât,â Dongsung repeats firmly. Then, softer, âWere you always like this, on the inside?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âSad. Small. Convinced youâre⌠I donât know. Convinced youâre worthless.â
Sehyuk bites his bottom lip and wills himself not to tear up. âYes. Yes, I was. Confidence was always an act, on my part.â
Dongsung seems to bypass everything else he wants to say and instead says, âI love you so much.â
âAnd thatâs because I forced you to,â Sehyuk replies. Dongsung tugs at a bit of hair near the nape of his neck in response.
âDonât say things like that. Itâs because I want to. Itâs- Itâs because I always have.â
Theyâre speaking in circles. Sehyuk opens his eyes, and his vision swims, but he can still see the heroic death of one of the main characterâs best friends. The serial killerâs house is up in flames. The heroine is still alive. âIâm sorry.â
Dongsung puts his arm around Sehyukâs shoulders and pulls him closer, tucks him against his side. Sehyuk puts a hand over his face and chokes down a sob. âIâm sorry,â Sehyuk repeats, âfor everything, for everything Iâve ever done. I wish I hadnât, I wish I could take it all back and be- be something better.â
Dongsung kisses the top of Sehyukâs head. âItâs okay. You donât have to apologize to me anymore. You wonât do it again, right?â
Sehyuk does sob, then, hand falling away from his face. He wipes it on his pants. âGod, god no. I would never, you- youâre doing so- so well, even⌠even with me here, me still in your life. I feel so bad.â
Sehyuk curls in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest. âI canât leave it behind, Dongsung, itâs been almost three years and I still- god, I think about it all every day, every single fucking day. I just want to get over it but I canât, Iâm soâŚâ Sehyuk covers his face with his hands again, trying to stop the flow of tears and failing. âShitty, Iâm so shitty. Iâll never stop being shitty on the inside, Dongsung, Iâm so horrible. I could do something horrible again at any moment because itâs what Iâm still used to and Iâm so scared of that. Iâm so scared.â
Dongsung stays quiet, letting Sehyukâs muffled rambling carry the conversation. He does, however, pull Sehyuk closer.
âIâm sorry,â Sehyuk says again, then adds, âfor crying, this time. Iâm a mess. Do you want to love a mess?â
âI already do,â Dongsung replies quietly.
Sehyuk takes a deep breath, resting his hands on his knees. The credits are rolling on-screen, names Sehyuk doesnât recognize. âI love you too. So, so goddamn much.â
Dongsung brushes his hands through Sehyukâs hair, then takes his face gently in his hands and wipes his eyes with his thumbs. âWeâll be okay,â Dongsung says softly, shifting so he can kiss Sehyukâs forehead. âI love you.â
Sehyuk nods, snuggling into Dongsungâs chest. âIâm sorry.â
âShh. Donât be.â
Sehyukâs not sure if he will feel any better in the long run, but for now, he does.
--
Sehyuk spends three weeks of his time getting over himself, and then he calls Sangdo.
He uses Dongsungâs phone because heâs not sure if Sangdo would pick up if he called from his. Sehyuk stares at the wall as the phone rings, and he kind of wishes Dongsung wasnât at work right now. He could do with a hand hold, maybe.
âHello?â Sangdo answers, eventually.
âHi,â Sehyuk says, meek.
A long stretch of silence, then, âSehyuk?â
âSurprise,â Sehyuk replies with a weak laugh. âI called from Dongsungâs phone because I didnât know if you would answer if I called from mine.â
âHoly shit, alright. I- I mean, I would have, but I understand. Uh,â Sangdo is quiet for a moment, âhow are you?â
How is he, indeed. âFine, I suppose. How are you?â
âAlright. Dealing with my ungrateful kids that canât even take out the trash.â Sangdo laughs, then inhales, shaky. âWhere have you been?â
âHas Dongsung not told you?â Sehyuk asks.
âNo, he hasnât told me anything. He told me that he saw you, but that was last year⌠I didnât know he kept in touch.â
âAh, well. Iâve been in America, Sangdo, I- Iâm one year away from graduating. From college, I mean.â
âHoly shit,â Sangdo says, and thereâs an emotion in his voice that Sehyuk canât quite place. âWow, Sehyuk, thatâs- god, Iâm so proud of you.â
Ah, thatâs what it was. âReally?â Sehyuk asks without thinking.
âYeah! Iâve- Iâve been really worried about you, Sehyuk. I know that sounds silly, taking into account everything youâve ever done to me, but I- I donât want you to be unhappy, Sehyuk, I was really hoping you would⌠do exactly what you did. Clean yourself up and make something of yourself.â
Sehyuk feels a pleasant emotion settling in his chest. Heâs not sure what it is. âWell, Iâm getting there. Iâm- Iâm going to be a businessman. Iâm doing well in college⌠I had a job but I lost it a couple months ago, n-not because of me! The diner went under.â
âAw, man. Iâm still- god, Sehyuk, Iâm really just⌠so proud of you.â Sangdo sounds almost a little tearful. âIâd- uh, Iâd really love to meet up with you, how long are you going to be in town?â
âFor another week or so. Um⌠this weekend, maybe?â
âSure! This weekend sounds good.â
--
So, this weekend it is.
Sehyuk asks Dongsung to put his hair up, and heâs surprisingly good at it. Sehyuk can see both his and Dongsungâs reflections in his phone screen and Dongsung looks very content, pulling Sehyukâs hair up into an artful bun. It seems like Dongsung is going for messy-but-not-too-bad, and Sehyuk likes the way it looks on him.
âThank you,â Sehyuk says once Dongsung is done. Dongsung leans over to kiss the top of his head and instead of a stab of hurt, Sehyuk feels only fondness.
For all Sehyuk looks nice, Sangdo looks nicer, dressed casually but elegant. After all these years, Sangdo is still better in the end. Itâs stopped bothering Sehyuk at last.
Sangdo stands as Sehyuk approaches and, surprisingly, wraps him into a hug, holding him tight to his chest. Sehyuk, for once, hugs him back with just as much intensity.
They sit down and Sangdo looks so thrilled. Sehyuk feels almost the same.
Their conversation is much the same as the one they had the other day, a rehash of their individual lives over sandwiches, which both turn out to be fairly boring. Sehyuk eventually cuts away from the small talk and says, âI- I was wondering if you could pass on a message to your sect, Â um- Hyosang, in particular.â
âMmhm, what is it?â
âUh⌠just an apology. Sorry will never suffice, so Iâve got⌠a lot more to say, but in the endâŚâ Sehyuk looks down at the table. âJust, sorry.â
âWell, you could tell them- him- yourself.â Sangdo says, and Sehyuk feels his eyes grow wide.
âNo, no, I- I would never do that to Hyosang, he-â
âHeâs fine, Sehyuk.â Sangdo interrupts. âI would have to call ahead, but he- Iâm certain he would be able to handle it. Maybe not without a few choice words, but he would.â
Sehyuk inhales. âCould we do it today?â
Sangdo shrugs. âDepends on whoâs home. I know Hyosang will be, and chances are Jiho and Hojoon are as well, but Byungjoo is gone most of the time and I have no clue if Iâll be able to get Sanggyun over on such short notice. You know, since he got married, heâs gotten so damn dodgy of parties and dinners and the such.â
Sehyuk snorts. âJust like a young married couple, always absorbed in themselves.â
âDefinitely.â
The joking reminds Sehyuk of a time long, long before, when they still talked to one another like this, all smiles and kind words. Sehyukâs chest aches.
âIâll call around, then, give me a few minutes.â Sangdo says, already digging his phone out of his pocket.
Sehyuk watches as Sangdo calls various sect members, confirming locations and giving a reason for congregation at the sect house. After a few minutes, Sangdo sets his phone down and sighs.
âWell. Byungjoo didnât answer, but the rest did and agreed. Sanggyun seemed a little too excited, I think he might have plans to beat your ass.â
Thereâs a joking edge to Sangdoâs voice. Sehyuk shrugs. âItâs not like I donât deserve it.â
âOh, come on. You know he wouldnât hurt you.â
Sehyukâs not so sure, but he accepts it.
Thus, Sehyuk ends up sitting in the same place as the last time he was at Sangdoâs house, on the center cushion of the couch closest to the wall, except this time thereâs significantly more people.
Sanggyun is the last to arrive, so he is doomed to sit beside Sehyuk. Sehyuk waves slightly at him as he walks in, and Sanggyun fixes him with an even stare. Then, âWill you kill me if I sit on you instead of beside you?â
âDepends on how heavy you are,â Sehyuk says easily, and Sanggyun sits on him. âJesus. What has Yoonchul been feeding you?â
âLove and kindness,â Sanggyun shoots back. Sehyuk snorts.
âSo,â Hojoon begins. Sehyuk leans so he can see around Sanggyun. âThe fuck are you here for?â
âTo apologize to all of you.â Sehyuk says. His voice echoes a bit in the large room. âIâve apologized to Sangdo many, many times, but Iâve wronged many more than just him. Youâve all been hurt by either my⌠desperate acts, or repercussions from my decisions, or direct insults and remarks. And sorry will never cover it, not ever, but itâs better than trying to ignore it and pretend it never happened. So,â Sehyuk pauses to take a breath, âI would appreciate it if you would at least keep an open mind concerning me.â
Surprisingly, Hyosang is the first to speak. âDude.â
âYes, dude.â Sehyuk replies, to urge him gently.
Hyosang takes a deep breath. âYouâre one of the most fuckinâ vile people Iâve ever met in my goddamn life and yet youâve got the fuckinâ nerve to sit there and say all this shit. Youâre damn fuckinâ right that sorry doesnât cover it, if- if it hadnât have been for you, Iâd be married right now. Iâd be able to get a decent nightâs sleep. Iâd be able to leave my damn house!â
Sehyuk canât keep himself from flinching. Itâs not like he expected anything but this, but it still settles a heavy, guilty feeling in his chest. Sanggyun moves out of his lap and sits beside him, instead.
âSo, if you think,â Hyosang continues after a pause, âthat Iâm going to forgive you in a million goddamn years, youâve got to be out of your mind.â
âI wasnât expecting you to,â Sehyuk says, and he manages to keep his voice from wavering. âIâm doing this for myself. Like I said, if I had avoided doing this, it would have made me feel like I was pretending I had never done it.â
âYou deserve to be reminded every single day just like I am.â Hyosang says darkly.
Sehyuk looks away from Hyosangâs eyes, instead at his cheeks, at the thick scars that creep back towards his ears. âI am.â He replies. âI donât need your damning because Iâve already condemned myself. Iâm never going to be happy.â
âAnd you donât deserve to be.â
âHyosang,â Sangdo says quietly.
âNo, you know what? Fuck you, with your pacifist bullshit,â Hyosang says, and Sehyukâs eyes jump to Sangdo, who looks rather shocked. âDo you know what the fuck heâs done to us? And yet youâre still going to treat him like he fucking matters, like you give a damn about him.â
âBecause I do give a damn about him, Iâm not going to make him feel even fucking worse when he does enough of that himself.â Sangdo replies, voice rising in volume. âHe wanted to apologize and we donât have to accept it but we can thank him for trying, canât we?â
Hyosang stands up in response, walking swiftly to the stairs and taking them two at a time. Things grow silent. Sehyukâs heart is pounding.
âItâs alright,â Sehyuk says after a few long moments. Sangdo looks at him, eyebrows furrowed. âHe can be angry at me. I wasnât expecting any different from any of you.â Sehyuk stands, scanning the room. âThank you for listening to me, at least. Take care of yourselves.â
âYou too, man,â Sanggyun says. âHeard you were going to college, thatâs pretty neat.â
Sehyuk smiles. âIt is pretty neat. Iâll be gone again in another week or so, however, and Iâm not sure if Iâll be coming back. Does anyone else want to say something to me?â
âYou look cool with long hair,â Jiho offers. Sehyuk nods in thanks. âAnd uh⌠yeah. Take care of yourself.â
Sehyuk waits a few more moments, then waves and starts for the door. Sangdo rises to see him out, smiling apologetically at him as he opens the door.
âFeel free to call me,â Sangdo says, after a moment of deliberation. âI- I promise I wonât let your call bounce.â
Sehyuk laughs slightly. âThanks. You too, though. My schedule is weird when Iâm in the States, but I promise Iâll call back as soon as possible.â
âThatâs not a problem. Have a good time for the rest of your stay. It was nice seeing you, really.â
Sehyuk nods. âYou too.â
--
Sehyuk doesnât sleep on the couch that night. He blames it on the cold, but really he just feels better in Dongsungâs bed on a rare night where heâs not scheduled for the night shift.
âYouâre not lying to me, are you?â Sehyuk whispers as Dongsung rubs circles into his back, holding Sehyuk close to his chest.
âAbout what?â Dongsung asks.
âAbout⌠everything. Loving me, forgiving me, all the things you tell me⌠theyâre not lies to just get me to feel better, are they?â
âI would never do that to you,â Dongsung says, kissing Sehyukâs forehead gently. âI believe and mean everything I tell you. I love you very, very much.â
Sehyuk nods, pressing the side of his face against Dongsungâs chest. He can hear Dongsungâs heartbeat. âI love you too. I⌠thank you, for everything.â
âItâs not a problem. Go to sleep, Sehyuk.â
Sehyuk does.
--
exchange [toppdogg, hanjoo]
help me breathe // rated PG-13 // 3,131 words
The badass goth and his delicate fluffy boyfriend. (Or, where Byungjoo cuts himself loose and Hansol catches him.)
--
Byungjoo tries to convince himself that he doesnât know what these sharp looks are for.
No, he knows, of course he does. Itâs jealousy, betrayal, something he doesnât know how to soothe so he ignores it. Really, itâs not his job to soothe it; itâs not like he was ever anything particularly important to them.
Them, of course, being Jiho and Hojoon.
Part of ignoring it is keeping himself from bringing it up just to get it over with, because if he ignores it they do too. But, one day, it just⌠slips out.
âWhat the fuck is wrong with you two?â Byungjoo asks, interrupting Hojoon in the middle of a story. They both pause, looking to Byungjoo from across the table, and Byungjoo makes a hand gesture like, well?
They share a look then, and Hojoon is the first to speak. âWeâre just wondering why the hell youâre bothering to hang out with that shitstain when weâre right here, thatâs all.â
âMmhm, yeah, and Iâm wondering why you two are so up in arms about it when you never really pay attention to me anymore anyways.â Byungjoo replies swiftly, almost surprised by how strong his voice is. Generally, he tends to waver in the face of confrontation, preferring to avoid it if he can help it. But not today.
Jiho and Hojoon know that, as well, and it seems to shock them briefly. âWe donât- we pay attention to you,â Jiho says quietly, and Byungjoo does nothing but smile while he sorts through all the things he could say in response.
âI fixed myself,â he says in the end. He receives questioning looks in response. âYou- you two were there for me when I was still- still broken, when I couldnât go a night without crying and had nightmares all the time. But, after that was over you guys just⌠pulled the rug out from under me.â Byungjoo laughs then, raking a hand through his overgrown hair. âTelling me all this shit about us being in love, being there for me forever. It didnât mean a damn thing in the end, did it?â
Itâs clear that theyâre struggling for something to say, Jiho in particular, and Byungjoo stands up. âBut, itâs not a problem, as long as you two stop being fucking jealous over something- someone- that you have no damn right to be jealous over. Get over yourselves, âcause I have.â
Byungjoo pushes his chair in with his foot and finds his hands to be shaking, an effect of his inexperience with being strong, not letting his voice quiver when he speaks, standing up for himself and who he is now. It feels good, but also bad, because heâs sure neither of them really meant to make him feel this way.
Byungjoo previously told Hansol that he was just an add-on, and that was true. Less of a lover, more of a child, a burden, something they needed to take care of. Now Byungjoo doesnât know what he is, exactly, what purpose he serves in this sect. He wants to leave, like he told Hansol. He wants to leave so badly.
Byungjoo goes upstairs to his room, across the hall from Sangdo and Hyosangâs, and he makes a point to slam the door. He flops face down into the bed and groans, muffled by the comforter.
There is nothing but the pounding of his own heart and muffled talking from downstairs before thereâs a knock on his door, then the squeak of the hinges as the door opens.
âByungjoo?â comes Sangdoâs voice, and Byungjoo is moderately surprised. He sits up quickly, flipping to face Sangdo, and sees that his face is full of concern. âAre you alright?â
Byungjoo nods. âYeah, itâs fine. Itâs⌠I can handle it.â
âDo you want to talk about it?â Sangdo asks, coming to sit on the edge of Byungjooâs bed. He reminds Byungjoo so much of what heâs learned a parent should be, and Byungjoo almost wishes he had this growing up instead of the streets.
But, now isnât the time for that. âNot really,â Byungjoo replies softly, and Sangdo pats his knee in response.
âThatâs fine. Whatever it is, I hope it works out alright. And if you ever need to talk, Iâm here.â Sangdoâs voice is low, calming. Then, âHow is Hansol? How are things with him?â
This is the first time Byungjooâs been asked about Hansol in a positive way. âHeâs⌠he says heâs alright, but I know heâs still dealing with things.â Byungjoo pauses, looking down at his lap. âI worry about him a lot. Heâs⌠very different now. More emotional, he cries a lot.â
Sangdo nods knowingly, hand going back to Byungjooâs knee. A calming dad touch. It makes Byungjoo smile slightly. âI would imagine that is difficult for him. He knew what he was getting into, but I donât believe any of us truly realized the extent of Sehyukâs⌠Iâm hesitant to say madness, thatâs not what it is. But, whatever it was, it ate away at everyone in that sect and Iâm glad itâs gone.â A pause. Sangdo exhales. âI hope Sehyuk is doing okay.â
âMe too,â Byungjoo agrees, and almost surprises himself. âI think he was just⌠deluded, thatâs what he was. Wherever he is, dead or alive, I just hope heâs doing better.â
âYes, definitely. Weâll all be okay in the end, Byungjoo. Just remember that. No matter what we may do or what may happen to us, we always end up okay, even if itâs in death.â
Byungjoo didnât know Sangdo was capable of such profound words, but they resound somewhere deep within Byungjoo. We always end up okay.
Sangdo stands up and leaves with one last smile and a remember you can talk to me!, door shutting softly behind him. Byungjoo drops his gaze back to his lap.
After just a couple moments of deliberation, spent listening to distant words, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Hansol.
Hansol answers almost immediately, like always. âHey,â he greets amicably, sounding sleepy.
âHey, sorry, did I wake you up?â
âKind of, but itâs fine, I needed to get up anyway. Whatâs up?â
âCan we go out somewhere?â Byungjoo asks, curling a piece of hair around his finger. âI- I need to get out and I donât want to go out by myself.â
âSure, sure. Let me get dressed. Where do you wanna go?â
âRegular place, I guess. Iâll wait there.â
âCool.â Pause. âLove you, stay safe.â
Byungjooâs cheeks burn. âY-You too.â
--
Jiho texts Byungjoo while Byungjoo is sitting in the lobby of the apartment building waiting for Hansol.
where are you?? call me, please
Byungjoo rereads the message a couple times before switching his display off and shoving his phone back into his coat pocket.
Hansol appears within a couple minutes, looking like a perfect mess, hair uncombed and shirt only half-tucked into his jeans. Byungjoo stands as he approaches, unable to keep himself from snaking his arms around Hansolâs neck and kissing him.
Hansol kisses back, of course, nibbling at Byungjooâs bottom lip before he breaks away. âHey,â Hansol breathes, and Byungjoo grins.
âHey. Did you bring your cigarettes?â
ââCourse I did, why?â
âThink I kinda need one.â
Hansol snorts, stepping away from Byungjoo and heading to the stairs. âWhy should I waste a cigarette on you? You canât handle it.â
âPast all the coughing thereâs got to be some kind of reward, right?â Byungjoo asks, following Hansol up the stairs, closing the door to the stairwell behind him.
âWell, for most people, I guess so. Why, you stressed or something?â
âI just want to make myself feel better,â Byungjoo says, almost hoping his words will be drowned out by the sounds of echoing footsteps.
They arenât. âIf thatâs what you want, you should probably get a hold of some liquor.â A pause, then, âUgh, seriously, what a bad influence am I.â
âI would be fine with that, I think.â Byungjoo says, skipping a step in order to get closer to Hansol. He smells like cologne and smoke.
âWhatâs got you so upset?â Hansol asks, rounding the corner of yet another landing and hopping the final few stairs up to the door to the roof.
âBeing lied to,â Byungjoo says simply as Hansol unlocks the door. âWhy do you have keys to this place, anyway?â
Hansol shakes his head. âNot the whole place, just the roof.â
âStill.â
âIâm friends with the owner of this place- or, rather, he⌠owed me a favor. He knows I need the roof, so thatâs his favor to me.â Hansol stuffs the keys back in his pocket before he opens the door, a chilly gust of wind causing both of them to inhale sharply. âWell, shit, looks like I should have brought my jacket after all.â
âMy hoodie isnât big enough for the both of us,â Byungjoo says, and Hansol smiles at him.
âWeâll see. Come on.â
They end up sitting on the ledge, Byungjoo letting his feet dangle and Hansol crossing his legs. They sit in silence until Hansol lights a cigarette, hand shielding the flame of his lighter from the breeze.
âHere,â Hansol says, holding the cigarette out to Byungjoo. âThis is why your sect hates me, Iâm teaching you bad habits.â
âIâm letting you teach me them,â Byungjoo responds, putting the cigarette to his lips and taking a draw off it before he can think much about it. He chokes the subsequent coughs down, causing smoke to come out his nose. Hansol thinks thatâs rather funny. âWhat?â Byungjoo asks, eyes watering.
âNothing, itâs just⌠you can tell you donât do this often. Here.â Hansol reaches for the cigarette and Byungjoo lets him take it, watching as Hansol takes a long draw off of it and then motions for Byungjoo to lean in closer.
Byungjoo does so and Hansol seals their mouths together, filling Byungjooâs mouth with smoke. Itâs strange and Byungjoo almost wants to pull away, but thereâs something about it thatâs so nice. Byungjoo pulls the smoke into his lungs and it seems easier to avoid coughing this way, maybe because of Hansol kissing him fervently. Maybe just because of Hansol himself.
Hansol breaks away but stays close. âDo you want to talk more about whatâs got you torn up enough to risk future lung health?â
Byungjoo snorts. âSure. Itâs just⌠god, those two. Jiho and Hojoon.â Byungjoo leans forward to rest his forehead on Hansolâs shoulder, and based on the way Hansol stiffens, Byungjoo thinks Hansolâs still quite unaccustomed to pleasant interaction. Byungjoo really wants to get him used to it. âEverything they ever told me was just⌠like⌠momentary reassurance. Does that make sense?â
âYeah,â Hansol replies, tentatively reaching up to pet Byungjooâs hair. âLike, they knew you needed it, so they said some shit they didnât mean just so youâd straighten the hell up sooner.â
âExactly,â Byungjoo says, muffled in the fabric of Hansolâs shirt. âSome bullshit.â
âProbably doesnât mean shit,â Hansol says quietly, words almost carried away in the wind, âbut Iâd never do that. I havenât done it before and I wonât now.â
Byungjoo stays quiet, absorbing the information. He sees Hansol putting out his (their) cigarette out of the corner of his eye, putting it back in the pack to finish later. âSoâŚâ Byungjoo begins, sitting up so he can see Hansolâs face. âDoes that mean, earlier, you- you said that you loved me, is that not some shit you donât mean?â
Hansol seems to pick his words carefully, averting his gaze for a few moments. Byungjoo shrinks closer to him when the cold breeze returns. âI- I donât know how deep,â Hansol says at last, âbut I do mean it. I care for you very much, Byungjoo, and I think I always have even if I didnât have the, uh, the right state of mind to show it properly. I just⌠want you to be happy. And safe.â
âYou too,â Byungjoo says, feeling a little tearful. âYouâre- youâre like, all I have, and itâs so weird. Comparing this to like, what, almost three years ago nowâŚâ
âI agree, itâs damn weird. Really, I never thought Iâd ever be out of the sect, let alone three years clear.â Hansol makes a noise of disbelief, then shivers as another rush of cool air passes them.
âHere,â Byungjoo says, lifting his hoodie over his head before Hansol can protest and tossing it at him. He has a long-sleeved shirt on underneath but it does little to protect him. He holds back his shivers for Hansolâs sake.
Hansol looks at him for a moment, like he wants to argue, but then pulls the hoodie on and snuggles down into it. The hoodie is big on Byungjoo and nearly swallows Hansol whole. Byungjoo quickly decides that itâs the most adorable thing heâs ever seen.
Hansol pulls the hood over his head and then turns his head to inhale. âCan I keep this?â
âYes,â Byungjoo replies without a momentâs hesitation. Itâs just a gray hoodie, itâs not like he canât get another one.
Hansol looks absolutely delighted. âI would say Iâd give you something in return, but all my stuff is probably too small for you. Maybe one of my big shirts will fit. Weâll see.â
Byungjoo nods, feeling warm despite the chilly air. âYeah. Weâll see.â
--
âDidnât you have a hoodie on when you left?â Sangdo asks, and Byungjoo jumps. Sangdo had previously been sitting across from him reading a book, quiet as can be.
âUh, yeah, I⌠I gave it to Hansol,â Byungjoo says quietly. Sangdo nods.
âThatâs cute. Was he cold?â
âMm-hm, he forgot his jacket. I told him he could keep it and he said heâd give me something in return.â
Sangdo smiles, putting a bookmark in his book and setting it on the table. âVery cute. You two seem like youâre doing well, is there any⌠tension?â
âNot really. Itâs more like⌠mutual confusion? Weâre both in awe that weâre⌠like this. Weâve been proper friends for over a year now, and now I guess weâre⌠something.â
âSomething?â Sangdo asks. Byungjoo sighs.
âSomething.â
Byungjoo is somewhat expecting a short lecture about how Byungjoo should be careful, but all Sangdo does is flash another smile at Byungjoo and go back to reading.
--
âH-Here,â Hansol says, sounding almost shy as he holds out a neatly folded shirt. âI havenât worn this in years, I- I bought it a long time ago. I hope you like it.â
Byungjoo takes it from Hansolâs hands, holding it up by the shoulders so it unfurls. Itâs a baggy black shirt with cartoonish bats on the front. It makes Byungjoo smile, holding it close and finding that it only smells like closet. A slight disappointment. âThank you, itâs really cute. Can I, uh, can I go put it on?â
âOh, sure! If, uh- my bathroom- well, you know where it is.â Hansol laughs, awkward, and Byungjoo holds back his urge to call Hansol cute.
He does know where Hansolâs bathroom is and heads down the hall towards it, finding that Hansol has cleaned the last time Byungjooâs been in his apartment. Byungjoo looks at himself in the mirror, takes in the dark circles under his eyes that wonât go away, the way his fluffy hair frames his face. He probably needs a haircut.
He takes his shirt off and slips the one given to him on, fiddling with it so it will hang correctly. It fits just well enough that it wonât completely drown Byungjoo in fabric, but it does hang off one shoulder. Byungjoo decides to leave it that way and folds his other shirt up haphazardly, emerging from the bathroom to Hansol standing anxiously in his living room.
âOh!â Hansol says as Byungjoo comes into view, a smile breaking over his face. âIt looks better on you than it ever did on me, I love it.â
Byungjoo smiles in return, nodding. âI love it too, thank you.â
âI, can I just-?â Hansol makes a vague gesture with his hands, leaving them hovering in midair.
âI dunno, can you just?â Byungjoo asks in turn, and Hansol sticks his tongue out.
âSo mean. Come here.â Hansol says, hands reaching out to touch Byungjoo as soon as heâs close enough, brushing his hands through Byungjooâs hair. âYouâre justâŚâ
âJust what?â Byungjoo asks as Hansol drags his fingertips down the sides of his face, a thumb brushing across his bottom lip.
âJust⌠so pretty,â Hansol says eventually. The compliment makes Byungjooâs cheeks burn. âIt takes my breath sometimes.â
Byungjoo turns his nose up. âThatâs gross.â
âI know.â Hansol replies with a smile, pulling Byungjoo down to peck his lips. âI love you, I really do.â
âI love you too. But, hey⌠do you think I need a haircut?â
Hansol shakes his head, running his fingers through the longer bottom layers of Byungjooâs hair. âIt looks good on you, I like it. You can get it cut if you want, but Iâll miss it.â
Byungjoo has his answer, at least. He nods and kisses Hansol again. âYou know, youâre, uh, youâre pretty too,â Byungjoo says quietly, hopelessly shy and awkward.
It apparently still has the same effect, no matter how awkward. âThank you, I try my best. But, you know, my concept is supposed to be more, uh⌠badass goth.â
Byungjoo snorts, stepping away from Hansol to sit on the couch. âBadass goth,â Byungjoo repeats once heâs sat down, Hansol sitting beside him.
âYes. And your concept is likeâŚâ Hansol looks over him carefully, mouth twisting in thought. âFluffy chicken.â
âWhat the fuck.â Byungjoo deadpans.
âYou heard me.â
Byungjoo rolls his eyes. âAwful. Iâm thinking itâs more like⌠delicate child.â
âUh-huh, okay. Or maybe itâs like⌠delicate boyfriend.â
Byungjoo pauses, staring at the far wall. âWas that an attempt at being damn smooth?â
âIt was, actually, thanks for pointing it out and ruining the whole thing.â
Byungjoo grins, then, âIs that, like⌠a hintâŚ?â
âYou can be my delicate boyfriend and I can be your badass goth boyfriend,â Hansol says firmly, holding one of Byungjooâs hands.
Byungjooâs heart lurches. âSo- I- weâre, we, IâŚâ
âDo you not want to?â
âNo, no! I mean, yes, I- fuck. I- god dammit. I want to date you. I want to date you, yes.â Byungjoo repeats it for thoroughness, to solidify it. âYes.â
Hansol honest-to-god giggles, turning to press his face into Byungjooâs arm. âI feel like Iâm sixteen again,â he confesses, âexcept with less angry parents and less shitty boys.â
Byungjoo laughs. âWe should probably do like⌠boyfriend stuff, then.â
âWhat is that?â
âLike kissing and stuff.â
Hansol takes a deep breath, sitting up properly and fixing Byungjoo with an even gaze. âBring it the fuck on.â
--
gaps [toppdogg, yanissi]
help me breathe // rated T // 1,086 words
The door to the cage is wide open and thereâs nothing stopping him. (behind the scenes)
[more]
--
There is a point in time where sick fascination either morphs into obsession or revulsion.
Taeyang knows that theyâve already gone their separate ways long before Taeyang actually brings it up. Sangwon is obsessed, and Taeyang is repulsed.
Taeyang tells him in public, because he knows Sangwon wonât do anything if thereâs people around. He has some semblance of dignity. âIâm leaving.â
âHm?â
âIâm leaving,â Taeyang repeats, unfolding and refolding the napkin before him. âNot here, just you.â
It takes a few moments for it to sink in, of course, because Sangwon never believes anything Taeyang says. Taeyang has said something similar before, then never did it. But this time, the door to the cage is wide open and thereâs nothing stopping him.
Sangwon has a sweet smile on his face when Taeyang bothers to look up. âWhy?â
Taeyang says in his most polite voice, âBecause you are fucking unhinged. You always have been, sweetcheeks, and you always will be. I thought maybe Iâd stick around after the sect dissolved just to see if youâd, I dunno, get a fucking grip? But youâre still, god, I donât know- killing birds and preserving fingers. Thatâs bullshit.â
âYou never thought it was bullshit before,â Sangwon says, mimicking Taeyangâs sweet tone in the most irritating way possible.
âThatâs because I didnât have a choice.â Taeyang lays his hands palm-down on the table. Sangwon goes to put his hands over his; Taeyang pulls his hands away. âMy informant group never cared about me or what I did. The attention was nice and appreciated but you are a fucking mess.â
âWhat, like you arenât?â Sangwon snarls, like he always does when Taeyang criticises him, because he canât take it.
âYouâre a baby, Sangwon. Throwing fits and trying to bend everyone to your will.â Taeyang layers the politeness on extra thick, clasping his hands in front of him. âNow, letâs have a nice meal.â
Sangwon, in turn, stands up. âNope. Have a nice meal by yourself.â
Taeyang shrugs, watching as Sangwon walks away. âSuit yourself. Dickhead.â
--
Once Taeyang realizes he really isnât scared of Sangwon anymore, he finds out where he lives (through an awkward conversation with Hansol) and goes to get his things.
Sangwon still has many of Taeyangâs possessions as a result of Taeyang only taking his clothes and just leaving. Taeyang thought that maybe it wouldnât be such a bother, but after moving out of Yoonchulâs house and getting his own place, he found that he missed his books most of all.
His original intentions go out the window when he sees Park fucking Sehyuk sitting in Sangwonâs living room, however.
âTaeyang!â Sehyuk says, visibly surprised, and Sangwonâs head whips around.
âWhat the fuck are you here for?â Sangwon asks, and Taeyang disregards him deliberately.
âSehyuk, where the hell have you been?â Taeyang asks, stepping into the living room, and Sehyuk exhales.
âAmerica! Iâm going to college, itâs very fun. Iâm- Iâm on break right now, I was coming to visit Junhee but decided to come visit everyone elseâŚâ Sehyuk shrugs, raking a hand through his hair. He looks good with long hair, Taeyang decides. âI dunno.â
âWhat are you here for?â Sangwon repeats, and Taeyang tsks, turning his attention to Sangwon.
âImpatient ass, Iâm here for my shit.â
âI sold it all,â Sangwon shoots back, lip curling up in disdain.
Taeyang turns to Sehyuk. âCan I beat his ass, right here, right now?â
Sehyuk looks alarmed for a moment, looking between the two. âI- if you think you can not get totally fucked, then, I guess?â
âOkay, cool.â
And itâs very clear Sangwon didnât think Taeyang would do it, based off of the fact that he could have easily blocked Taeyangâs fist and didnât. Nothing cracks, Sangwon barely falters, but there is such satisfaction blooming in Taeyangâs chest.
That is, until Sangwon counters, and there is definitely a crack and definitely a falter.
âJesus!â Sehyuk yells, rising to his feet. Taeyang waves a hand to calm him down, steadying himself and holding his nose. He doesnât know if itâs bleeding, but if it isnât currently, it will be soon.
âDonât worry, heâs done this before,â Taeyang says, voice coming out nasally. âHavenât you, sweetcheeks?â
âShut the hell up,â Sangwon says, and Taeyang notices with increasing joy that thereâs a red spot high on Sangwonâs cheek. Taeyang hopes to God it bruises. âThe fuck do you think youâre doing? This is my house, and you just-â
âI donât know if youâve forgotten, Sangwon,â Taeyang interrupts, feeling unusually daring, âbut youâve done a whole lot worse to me than punch me. Fucker.â
Taeyang spares a glance to Sehyuk, seeing that he looks horribly scared. Itâs strange, because Taeyang always thinks of Sehyuk as a strong figurehead, even now. He wonders briefly if this is what Sehyuk was like before sect life.
That is, until Sangwon starts spouting his bullshit again. Taeyang tunes him out until he starts flapping his arms.
âWill you calm the hell down, you big baby?â Taeyang asks, venomous, and Sangwon surprisingly does. âGod. If you have anything of mine left, go get it.â Taeyang waits a few moments, filled with Sangwon looking at him with all the rebellion of a problem child burning in his eyes. âWhat are you waiting for? Go!â
Sangwon jumps, striding out of the room, and Taeyang finds that the eyes that are on him are incredulous.
âHow did you do that?â Sehyuk asks, blinking at Taeyang. âAnd, are you okay?â
Taeyang pulls his hand away from his nose, raising his eyebrows at the blood collecting in the creases of his palm. âI guess so. As for the first question, I stopped being scared of him. Heâs just a big fucking baby and heâs not going to kill me, I know that, because he still likes me. So whatever.â
Sehyuk shakes his head in wonder. âI could never. Even when I was his superior, he never listened to me outside of missions. Jesus.â
Taeyang smiles, wiping his hand on his pants leg. âPretty cool, right?â
âGod, I guess.â
Sangwon comes into the room again, a box of stuff in his hands. He sets it down beside Taeyang and grits out, âNow, leave.â
Taeyang turns to Sangwon, giving him his most pleasant smile as he takes the box up and holds it under one arm. âThanks, dear. See you both. Stay safe, and in touch, Sehyuk.â
Sehyuk nods, raising a hand in goodbye as Taeyang walks out.
--
rooftop [toppdogg, hanjoo]
help me breathe // rated PG // 2,629 words
Working past things for the greater good. (A few kisses here and there doesnât hurt anything.)
[more]
--
âCan I try?â
Hansol looks from Byungjoo to the cigarette in his hand, then back again. âNo. You will die and fall off this fucking roof and itâs gonna be my fault.â
âCome on, just once.â Byungjoo whines, squinting when the wind blows his hair into his face.
Hansol sighs. âAm I a bad influence or what,â he mutters to himself as he extends his hand, letting Byungjoo take the cigarette from between his fingers. âSorry, Iâm not lighting another one just for you.â
âThatâs fine, I didnât expect you to. Do I just, you know⌠go for it?â Byungjoo asks, turning his head to look at Hansol. When Hansol nods, a smile playing across his lips, Byungjoo puts the cigarette between his lips and inhales.
As expected, he does nearly die and fall off that fucking roof, coughing out puffs of smoke. He hands the cigarette back, eyes watering, and Hansol canât keep himself from grinning.
âThere, you tried, just once.â Hansol says, taking a draw off the cigarette himself. It stings a little down his throat, like it usually does. He blows the smoke in Byungjooâs direction and doesnât miss Byungjoo purposefully inhaling when he does.
âIt smells weird. Iâve smelled cigarette smoke before and it didnât smell like that.â Byungjoo says, still looking at Hansol.
âTheyâre menthols. That might be why.â Hansol replies, returning Byungjooâs even gaze.
âYou look really cool like this,â Byungjoo says suddenly, mouth quirking up at the corners. âSmoking on a rooftop, leather jacket, moon high in the sky behind you⌠I wish I had a good camera.â
Hansol smiles, feeling somewhat shy. âThatâs⌠sweet, Byungjoo. I wish you did too, Iâd love for you to take pictures of me.â
A pleasant silence settles around them. Hansol finishes his cigarette off before either of them speaks, and then itâs Byungjoo.
âThose things you said to me, about me⌠did you mean any of them?â
There are lots and lots of things that Byungjoo could be referring to. Hansol asks, âWhich things?â
âAbout nobody caring if I was there or not, being useless, those sorts of things.â Thereâs a sadness lurking beneath the surface, and Hansol can see it rising, see it sitting in Byungjooâs eyes.
Hansol shakes his head. âNo. It- It makes me sound like an asshole to say, but I viewed you as a burden, then. I was⌠in a bad place. You couldnât have known because I never told you anything, but things were bad for me. They still are.â
âTell me now,â Byungjoo says, scooting closer. âWhatâs wrong?â
Hansol lights another cigarette, looking out over the city instead of at Byungjoo. âThe things I told you were moreso describing myself. Nobody cares if Iâm here or not, and with plenty of good reasons. Iâm a dickbag. Thereâs really no fixing it, but whatever.â
âI donât think youâre a dickbag,â Byungjoo says after a few long moments of silence, resting his head on Hansolâs shoulder. âYouâre cool and mysterious and probably, uh, really- really talented, in some way.â When Hansol remains silent, Byungjoo keeps talking. âI- I was homeless. Sehyuk just⌠took me off the street and I thought maybe that he was going to do some good for me, but, you know. You couldnât have known that either, though, because I never told you anything either.â
Byungjoo reaches for Hansolâs hand. Hansol turns his hand palm-up in silent permission, and Byungjoo twines their fingers together. âThat made everything you said hurt a lot worse, I think,â Byungjoo says, thumb rubbing one of the scars on the side of Hansolâs fingers. âI donât want to hold anything against you, though. If I do, youâll never get better.â
Heâs right. Hansol presses his fingertips into the back of Byungjooâs hand, squeezing tight. âItâs okay,â Hansol says quietly, holding his cigarette between his teeth. âYou donât have to forgive me just for my sake.â
âItâs for both of our sakes,â Byungjoo replies, turning his head slightly so his face is pressed into Hansolâs upper arm. âIf I keep holding onto things that happened while I was part of that shitty sect, Iâm never going to move on. We can move on together.â
Hansol simply nods, willing to let the subject drop. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket; he ignores it and instead looks at the polish flaking off of Byungjooâs fingernails.
âWhat about you?â Byungjoo asks, and then clarifies, âI mean, what did you do before sect life?â
Hansol finishes off his cigarette in nearly one go, holding back a cough for prideâs sake, then flicks the butt off the side of the roof. âI joined when I was sixteen. I got kicked out of my parentsâ house because I was dating this boy and they didnât like it. I told them I broke up with him but I still snuck out and saw him and they just⌠you know.â
âThat sucks. Tell me about him, what was he like?â
âHe was cute, nice, he had a great smile. His name was Hyeontae. I think he might have loved his cats more than me.â Hansol sighs, pulling his hand away from Byungjooâs briefly to wipe it on his pants. Byungjoo is quick to take it back into his, holding tight. âI didnât have anywhere else to go. I knew Hyeontae wouldnât give up his life just for me, so I broke up with him for real. I did the only thing I thought would work for me, which was joining a sect.â
Hansol sighs again, dragging a hand down his face. âThe North Sect rejected me, West Sectâs applications were closed, so there was only Shitlord McGee left. He was short on manpower so when I told him I had martial arts training he was all for it.â
âWeâre both just burdens on everyone, then, arenât we?â Byungjoo asks, tone stabbing for lighthearted.
Hansol nods in agreement, close to smiling. âI guess so.â Then, âYouâre not a burden on me anymore. I love spending time with you now, I- I donât know if itâs because I have nothing else to do, or what, butâŚâ
âYouâre not a burden on me either,â Byungjoo says quietly, rubbing the back of Hansolâs hand absently. âYou never were, I was just⌠sad because you never paid attention to me. I know why, now, so itâs less awful.â
Hansol takes a breath, and says, âIâm sorry.â
Byungjoo nods. âItâs okay. Iâm sorry too.â
Hansol pulls his phone out of his pocket, mostly to check the time (2:37 AM). Once he sees that Sangwon was who texted him earlier, however, he unlocks his phone, curious.
âYou still talk to Sangwon?â Byungjoo asks, scooting even closer to see Hansolâs phone screen better.
âMore like he still talks to me, I never text him first.â Hansol shrugs, replying to Sangwonâs request for Hansolâs extra ammo with weâll talk later, Iâm busy.
âYou consider this busy?â Byungjoo asks, teasing edge to his voice.
âI consider this very busy,â Hansol replies, setting his phone aside and smiling. âI really missed you, Byungjoo,â Hansol continues, growing serious. âI donât guess we knew each other well enough for me to deserve to miss you, or something like that, butâŚâ
âNo, I understand.â Byungjoo says, releasing Hansolâs hand at last in favor of wrapping his arms around Hansol. âI missed you a lot too, even though you were a shitbag and I also threw stuff at you when you tried to visit me before.â
âWith good reason,â Hansol adds.
âYeah, I guess. I still should have tried to⌠I dunno. But, whatever.â
Hansol puts his arm around Byungjooâs shoulders, tentative. Byungjoo settles against his side. âWhatever, right. Weâre good now.â
Byungjoo nods. âYeah. We should probably go home. Where are you living, now?â
âOh, in an apartment on the north end⌠why?â
âInvite me over sometime,â Byungjoo says, pulling himself from Hansolâs hold and smiling. âYouâve got my number, yâknow. I donât do much, so. Any time.â
Hansol nods, watching as Byungjoo stands and offers a hand. âNah. I think Iâm gonna stay up here a bit longer. Be safe going home, Byungjoo.â
Byungjoo smiles, patting the top of Hansolâs head. âYou too, man. It was nice spending time with you like this.â
Hansol turns to watch Byungjoo walk away, smiling and waving back when Byungjoo stops at the door to the roof and waves. He can hear Byungjooâs footsteps echoing in the stairwell, and then nothing but wind and his own breathing.
This truly is the most bittersweet thing Hansol has ever experienced in his life. Itâs so nice to be friends with Byungjoo, finally, but heâs so scared. Scared of himself, mostly.
Hansol hears his phone buzz from beside him. He ignores it and lights another cigarette.
--
âItâs not the nicest place,â Hansol says as he steps into the hallway, flicking the light switch as he passes it. Byungjoo follows close behind once heâs kicked off his shoes, looking around the small apartment as he does so.
âNah, itâs fine. Itâs cozy.â Byungjoo says, heading to the couch and flopping down on it like he lives here. Hansol responds by sitting down on Byungjooâs stomach nonchalantly. âAh, no, fatass, get off me!â
Hansol grins, reaching over and patting Byungjooâs face repeatedly. âSince when can my couch talk? I didnât sign up for this when I bought it.â
Byungjoo giggles, the most precious sound, and grabs Hansolâs wrist to cease the patting. âSince right now, your couch is possessed. What will you do?â
âI have to call an exorcist right now.â Hansol says sagely, standing up and digging his phone out of his pocket, pretending to dial some numbers and holding up to his ear. âHello, is this 1-800-EXORCIST? I need some help, right now, my couch is talking.â
There is such pure joy on Byungjooâs face and it twists Hansolâs chest strangely. Byungjoo takes the phone away from Hansol and puts it to his face, pitching his voice down when he does. âThere is no need for assistance! The reign of terror has begun in the Kim household!â
Hansol makes an exaggerated noise of despair, putting a hand to his forehead. âNo! What will I do!"
Byungjoo tosses Hansolâs phone to the couch, reaching up and pawing at Hansol's clothes, most likely trying to emulate some kind of hell creature. Byungjoo stops when he reaches Hansol's face, fingertips barely touching his skin.
"Oh, I- sorry, sorry," Byungjoo says, letting his hands fall away from Hansol's face.
"No, it's-" Hansol replies, taking Byungjoo's hands in his and laying Byungjoo's palms on his cheeks. "It's fine, you- I won't-" Hansol struggles for what he wants to say. He remembers dimly that he used to shout at Byungjoo if he got too handsy without permission, and Hansol figures that is the root of this gentle apprehension. He wants Byungjoo to touch him, now.
And Byungjoo does, fingers ghosting across Hansol's face, catching bumpy scars and old scabs with his fingernails. "You're- uh, god, you're very pretty."
The compliment burns in Hansol's chest. He smiles and mimics Byungjoo, hands cupping Byungjoo's cheeks. "You are too. I never told you how beautiful you are."
Byungjoo turns sheepish, cheeks tinting. "I'm gonna be yelled at for this," Byungjoo says, letting his hands drop.
"By who?" Hansol asks, feeling a little sore that someone would reprimand Byungjoo for friendship. Then Hansol remembers who exactly Byungjoo is and who exactly he himself is and understands.
Byungjoo is loved and surrounded by people who want to protect him from remnants of the past, and Hansol is just one of those.
"Nevermind," Hansol says once he notices Byungjoo scraping for something to say. He takes a couple steps back and doesn't miss the way Byungjoo lifts his hands, like he's going to stop him. "It's fine, I know. Your sect members, they're just... trying to protect you."
Byungjoo looks sad, standing from his place on the couch. "I don't need to be protected from you, though... I can take care of myself. We're friends, Hansol."
There's a hint of desperation in Byungjoo's voice. He seems so eager to reassure Hansol when he's not even worth the trouble.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to cause any... strain." Hansol says, running a hand through his hair and looking away from Byungjoo's face. "I'm sorry."
Byungjoo is pouting when Hansol looks up. Hansol wants to kiss him. "Don't say stuff like that. You aren't straining anything, I was always just... an add-on, anyway." Byungjoo shrugs. "I don't feel like I belong in a sect anymore but I have nowhere else to go and I... I don't want to disappoint."
Hansol feels almost honored, because he's certain Byungjoo hasn't told anyone else this. Byungjoo is too shy. Hansol opens his mouth to speak but realizes he has nothing to say.
"I- I don't want us to be like this," Byungjoo says suddenly. "I want us to be friends and I don't want to worry about what other people think because they- they don't know you."
"You don't either," Hansol adds quietly.
"But I want to," Byungjoo whispers.
Hansol nods. "Okay. Okay."
--
The roof of the apartment in the west side is their spot in the end. Byungjoo still doesn't know how Hansol got the keys to the roof but he decides that it doesn't really matter. He gets the feeling that Hansol could talk his way into or out of anything.
Byungjoo still feels very awkward around him, mostly because he constantly feels like he's doing something wrong. Hansol is still very closed off, despite his promises to open up and let Byungjoo know more about him. It doesn't really bother Byungjoo, not bad enough to get upset over, but still.
They watch the sunrise, hands clasped together as they're bathed in colored light, brilliant shades of orange and pink splashed over the horizon.
Byungjoo turns to Hansol to make a remark about how beautiful it is, wonder hot in his chest, but he stops short when he finds that Hansol is watching him, not the sky.
"It's prettier in your eyes," Hansol whispers, by way of explanation.
It's so damn cheesy that Byungjoo can't help but laugh, covering his mouth with one hand. "Don't ever say anything like that to me again," Byungjoo says, joking edge to his voice.
Hansol laughs as well, looking away. There's a blush on his face. "I know, I don't know what that was. I'm sorry."
Byungjoo feels something rising, what he pins down quickly as affection. He wants to kiss Hansol. He weighs pros and cons for a moment, which proves to be a useless venture when Hansol speaks.
"Can I kiss you?"
"Yes!" Byungjoo replies, a little too eager. He clears his throat and presses a hand to his chest. "Excuse me. I mean, yeah, sure."
Hansol laughs, endeared, and scoots closer. Byungjoo doesn't think he's ever been more nervous in his life, no matter how stupid that seems considering everything else that's happened in his life.
The kiss is different than any kiss they've ever had before. Byungjoo remembers that used to Hansol taking control, rough and  commanding. This is soft, Hansol's hand coming up to touch Byungjoo's face gently. Their faces stay near even after Hansol pulls away, and Byungjoo licks his lips, tasting cherry chapstick.
"Uh, can we do that again?" Byungjoo asks, putting up some kind of aloof bravado that Hansol breaks right down with his next kiss, more emphatic.
Byungjoo thinks that surely this sort of stuff only happens in movies. Kissing your ex-something on a rooftop with the sunrise shining on you. It's just too cliche.
And yet Byungjoo thinks he could sit here all day, just doing this.
--
years [toppdogg, pgohn]
help me breathe // rated T // 4,776 words
This is his mistake to make. And make it he does.
(Dongsung cannot stop tearing himself apart.)
[more]
--
It takes another year for Dongsung to move out, for him to feel okay, for him to stop searching, for him to get a job, and for him to remember that the code for a spill is not 546, itâs 564.
And then.
Heâs looking down at his hands when someone comes to his register. He was hoping he could make it to break without another customer, but since heâs working the â20 items or lessâ line tonight, it canât be that bad.
âGood evening, how are you today?â Dongsung asks conversationally as he flicks the switch to get the conveyer belt to bring the bag of dog food and box of mac and cheese closer to him. He raises his eyes from the items to the person still unloading things from their cart. And his heart sinks.
âIâm fine,â Sehyuk says, after maintaining eye contact for a few beats, âand you look good in that hat.â
Dongsung scans the dog food, heart pounding in his chest. âThanks. You look good with long hair.â
He catches a glimpse of Sehyukâs smile as he turns to open up a bag from the carousel and place the dog food in it, putting the mac and cheese in as well. âDo you have a dog now?â Dongsung asks, and Sehyuk shakes his head.
âNo, Iâm just⌠in town, visiting Junhee. She asked if I would run some errands for her sect, which consisted of food for all the kids, human or otherwise.â Sehyuk tucks some hair thatâs fallen out of his ponytail behind his ear. âYoori has a daughter now, almost two years old. Itâs amazing, it doesnât feel like Iâve been gone that long.â
Dongsungâs throat feels dry. Heâs not sure what to say. âYou, uh, you look- ah. Are you, uh-â
He cuts himself off when Sehyuk starts laughing, reserved and behind his hand, but itâs so jarring because itâs genuine. Heâs never heard Sehyuk laugh in anything more than scorn or spite, and itâs honestly cute. It brings something to the surface.
âIâm healthy and Iâm doing well, if thatâs what you were trying to go for.â Sehyuk says, a smile still on his face as Dongsung bags up the rest of his groceries. âHow about you?â
âHuh? Oh, Iâm⌠Iâm fine, I guess. Uh, your total is 10.27.â Dongsung keeps his fingers from brushing Sehyukâs when Sehyuk hands over the money.
âYou guess?â Sehyuk asks once Dongsung has ripped the receipt free of the machine and handed it to him.
Dongsung nods. âI guess.â
Sehyuk smiles again, stunning. âIt was nice seeing you again, Dongsung.â He says, voice soft, fond.
Dongsung bites his bottom lip hard, willing himself to stay silent as Sehyuk puts his bags in his cart. He canât. âMy break is in five minutes,â he breathes, and Sehyuk pauses. âPlease, stick around.â Sehyuk opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but Dongsung presses on. âJust once. You said youâre in town, visiting Junhee, so youâll be gone again soon, right? So just once.â
Sehyuk closes his mouth again, eyebrows coming together. He looks impossibly sad, and it breaks Dongsungâs heart. âAlright. Iâll wait at the front.â
Nobody else comes through his lane in those five minutes, but Dongsung still has to wait until midnight precisely before he can clock out for his fifteen minute break. As soon as he does, he practically runs to the front area, where thereâs a couple benches and Sehyuk, sitting on one of them and staring down at his lap.
âHey,â Dongsung says, mostly to get his attention. The look Sehyuk gives him is almost relieved. It hurts Dongsung to think that, maybe, Sehyuk thought he wouldnât hold to his word. Dongsung sits down beside him, pushing his cart out of the way slightly so he can slide in behind it. âSo⌠Sehyuk, where have you been?â
Sehyuk sighs, going back to staring at his lap. âAmerica.â
âReally?â
Sehyuk nods. âI⌠Iâm going to college, things are better. I have a job.â He brushes stray hair away from his face, and when his hand falls, Dongsung takes it in his. The weight is familiar, comforting.
Whatever rose earlier bubbles over in the form of tears. âIâve missed you so much,â Dongsung whispers, holding onto Sehyukâs hand tightly. âI donât know why, Iâve just missed you so much.â
Sehyuk leans over onto Dongsung, resting his head on Dongsungâs shoulder. âIâve missed you too, Dongsung. Despite everything, I feel so alone without you.â
Dongsung half-turns to face Sehyuk, kissing his temple first, then his cheek, then his lips when Sehyuk turns his head. He peppers kisses over as much of Sehyukâs face as he can, drawing an elated giggle from Sehyuk as Dongsung moves down his neck, finding bumpy skin and kissing it.
âDid I do this, here?â Dongsung asks, sitting up so he can look at Sehyukâs neck. Yes, there are scars there, lumpy and irregular. Dongsung drags his fingertips over them.
âAh, yes, and this one too.â Sehyuk lifts his left arm and pushes up his sleeve, revealing a slightly indented portion of skin, a lighter color than the skin around it. âAlways biting me. I miss it.â
Dongsungâs chest hurts. âI need to go soon, and you do too, right?â Sehyuk nods. âSo. This time, you came to visit Junhee. Next time, come to visit me.â
Sehyukâs agreement is wordless, a kiss to the corner of Dongsungâs mouth. Dongsung kisses him proper before he returns to work, whispering against his lips: âMy number is still the same.â
Sehyuk shakes his head. âI wonât call you, you call me. My number is still the same too.â
--
Dongsung keeps it a secret.
Heâs almost bursting with happiness, and if he knows well and truly that he shouldnât be, then everyone else will too. He doesnât want to hear everyoneâs reasons for why this is a horrible decision. In the end, this is his mistake to make.
And make it he does. It takes him a week but he does.
It mostly takes him a week because it is so, so hard to remember Sehyukâs cell phone number. He was told it when he first joined the East Sect and he only ever called it twice, so it occurs to him that maybe Sehyuk was banking on him being unable to remember his number and therefore being able to live his life in peace. But, not so lucky, because Dongsung ends up typing in the digits with next to no problem (the 6 is first, not the 1).
Itâs half past midnight on a Tuesday and Dongsung has the night off from work, so he figures nowâs the perfect time provided that Sehyuk doesnât have morning classes.
The phone rings, and rings, and rings. Dongsung stares at the opals on his finger.
The light catches the opals, they sparkle. Someone picks up the phone, answering in English. âHello?â
Dongsung feels his throat tighten. He canât tell if itâs Sehyuk or not, and also wasnât prepared to use his limited English, so, âIs- Is Sehyuk a⌠around?â Then, he adds quickly, âDo you s-speak⌠speak Korean?â
âYes to both,â the stranger replies, switching to Korean. âSehyukâs studying so I was in charge of answering his phone, but uh, here.â Thereâs somewhat distant speaking, and then the person comes back on. âWhatâs your name?â
âUh- Dongsung, tell him itâs Dongsung.â
The person does as instructed, and thereâs an audible oh my god, then, âDongsung?â
Dongsung hadnât actually planned out what he was going to say, so he figures he should start from the basics. âHey.â
âOh my god, alright, hi. Let me, uh, let me-â Thereâs the squeak of what Dongsung thinks is a desk chair, the ruffle of clothing. âOkay, okay. Iâm outside now, in the hall. That was my roommate James, by the way.â
Dongsung hums in response. âHe sounds nice. Are you friends?â
âYes, itâs- itâs very surprising, I wasnât expecting to become friends with him but heâs liked me since day one.â Sehyuk sighs, and it sounds shaky. âHow are you?â
âIâm fine,â Dongsung says, and he keeps himself from adding I guess. âHow about you?â
âOh god, I have a final this afternoon and Iâm dying. I- I didnât tell you because I didnât get the chance to but Iâm majoring in business, logistics, and this is a- itâs a big test. And I didnât study for it.â
âBusiness,â Dongsung repeats, latching onto it. He wants Sehyuk to tell him about his life overseas, what he does, what heâs been doing, what heâs planning on doing. He wants to be friends so badly. âWhy that?â
âOh man, so many reasons!â Sehyuk says, and the pure excitement in his voice tugs at Dongsungâs heart so painfully. âI mostly just want to lead people, my end goal is to be the head of a department, but⌠you know, little steps. So my first little step is getting an internship with a logistics company and going from there! It sounds so boring but really itâs⌠itâs so exciting.â
âItâs not boring when you talk about it,â Dongsung says, rolling over so heâs laying on his back on the couch. âTell me about logistics.â
So, Sehyuk does, detailing the basics and then delving more into what heâs planning on doing specifically, which is simply heading a logistics department within a company. Truthfully, it does sound like a hideously boring career, but Dongsung loves laying there listening to Sehyuk speaking to him, so thrilled that Dongsung would care enough about him to ask about it.
âIâm sorry, Iâm just- Iâm going off on a tangent, I have so much I could say.â Sehyuk sighs, and thereâs a stretch of silence. âItâs late over there, huh? You should probably go to bed.â
âNo, no, Iâm fine.â Dongsung replies, and really he kind of isnât. His eyelids are drooping and he knows heâs close to falling asleep, but he doesnât want to stop talking to him.
âDongsung,â Sehyuk says his name so softly that it almost makes tears rise to Dongsungâs eyes. âIf youâre tired, you can go to sleep. Call me tomorrow, about the same time, I have no classes tomorrow.â
Dongsung thinks about it, staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. âOkay, okay. Iâll go to sleep. I- Good luck on your test, Sehyuk.â He tries his hardest to speak as fondly as he can, hoping to convey almost two years of tumultuous emotion in just a few moments.
âThank you. Sleep well, Dongsung.â A pause. âThank you for calling.â
âNo problem.â
âGoodnight, Dongsung.â
Sehyuk hangs up and Dongsung lays there, phone still pressed to his face, mulling over everything. He knows he will be yelled at if he tells anyone, but he wants to, so badly. So badly.
--
So, he tells Taeyang.
Itâs been quite a while since heâs spoken to Taeyang in person, so he takes him out to lunch.
âYou look good,â he tells Taeyang quietly, and Taeyang smiles.
âThanks, you do too. How are you holding up?â
Dongsung nods as he answers. âGood, good. But, uh, guess what happened last week.â
âHm?â
Dongsung inhales, preparing himself for whatever Taeyang could have to say. âSehyuk was in town.â
âI know.â
âWhat?â
âI know,â Taeyang repeats, propping his elbow up on the table and resting his chin in his hand. âHe came to see Sangwon, and I was also there to see Sangwon.â
âFor what?â Dongsung asks without thinking.
âFor my shit,â Taeyang says, an edge of bitterness to his voice. âHe kept everything of mine and I wanted it back. He sold most of it but I was able to get my books back, at least, and one of my guns. Good enough, I guess. Anyway. How did you know? Surely he didnât come to see you.â
Dongsung shakes his head. âNo, I work at the supermarket, you know. He came by to buy things for Junhee, he said, and we- we talked briefly. He told me his number was still the same so I called him last night.â
âDamn. Was it pleasant at least?â
Dongsung doesnât know how to properly express just how pleasant it was, so he just nods. Taeyang smiles.
The rest of their time together proceeds mostly in silence, because they never had anything to say to one another before and they certainly donât now. When they do speak, itâs mostly just small talk and Taeyang occasionally going off on a rant about how shitty Sangwon is (which Dongsung still doesnât know the full details of).
They part amicably. Dongsung is almost glad Taeyang didnât try to dig too deep, because Dongsung doesnât know if heâs ready for that. He also doesnât know if heâs ready to talk to Seoyoung this Saturday.
--
He was not.
âDongsung,â Seoyoung says after he spills the beans, sounding like a disappointed mother.
âOkay, yes, yes, I know.â Dongsung says, feeling like a chastised child in turn. He repeats his resolve from earlier in the week. âIt was my mistake to make, Seoyoung.â
âYes, Dongsung, but itâs not one youâre going to benefit from.â Seoyoung says, the strictest Dongsungâs ever heard her sound. âYou may feel happier now, Dongsung, but youâll quickly find that things you never got over are going to come back, and they will come back with a vengeance. I told you before that you cannot possibly be friends with him in a way that will benefit both of you at the same time, it will end up uneven and most likely unhealthy.â
Seoyoung is right, as usual. Dongsung doesnât want her to be. âOkay, Seoyoung, youâre right. You always are right. But itâs still my mistake to make, like I said, and all I can do is try. I want to try.â
Seoyoung takes a deep breath, raking her hand through her bangs. âThis could end up undoing everything youâve done, Dongsung, everything youâve done to get to this point of stability-â
âAnd itâs this point of stability thatâs helping me realize that it is a mistake, Seoyoung,â Dongsung interrupts, trying to keep his voice steady. He canât afford to get mad, or even worse, cry. âIf I was still- still like I was, I would see no risk in it, and you know that.â
Seoyoung licks her lips, fixing Dongsung with an even gaze. âAlright, Dongsung. Like you said, it is your mistake to make. Remember that you have my personal number. If something goes very wrong very quickly, call me as soon as possible.â
Dongsung doesnât think they will, but he nods in agreement anyway. Maybe heâs just trying to desperately delude himself into thinking this is okay, into thinking heâs going to be able to protect himself and not get hurt.
Maybe heâs wrong, maybe heâs right, but either way, heâs going to find out.
--
A month of hour long conversations at midnight bring them to this- a video call, with flipped roles. This time itâs Sehyuk half asleep and Dongsung sitting at his kitchen table, sunlight streaming in through the window.
âAre you sure James is alright with this?â Dongsung asks, and Sehyuk nods.
âYeah, he does this to me with his girlfriend sometimes, so he can deal.â
Thereâs a muffled shut up from the other side of the room and Sehyuk laughs, eyes crinkling up in the most beautiful way. Dongsungâs chest hurts.
Time passes mostly in silence for a while, the two of them content to simply look at one another and hear each other breathe. It makes Dongsung feel so warm.
Dongsung goes to scratch his cheek and Sehyuk says, âWhatâs that?â
Dongsung looks at his hand and sees it, the opal ring around his finger. âItâs- itâs your ring, the one you used to wear- you know. Sangwon was going to sell it.â
âWhy are you wearing it?â Sehyuk asks, incredulous.
âI- itâs pretty, andâŚâ Dongsung feels almost embarrassed. He could confess to Seoyoung why it mattered so much to him, but now that itâs Sehyuk asking, it feels so flimsy and almost pointless to say. âI- one of the only things I remember, you know, from then, is you holding my hand. I always liked it.â
âOh, DongsungâŚâ Sehyuk says quietly, like heâs horribly endeared. âIâm just- Dongsung, Iâm just worried. I donât want us talking to dredge up things that should be left alone.â
Dongsung nods, running a hand through his hair. âYeah, yeah, Iâm- Iâm kind of worried, too. I⌠I want to talk to you, though.â
Sehyuk smiles, seeming a little awkward. âI want to talk to you too. Weâll⌠just⌠play it safe, you know? Friends, Dongsung, weâre friends.â
Just those words are enough to kick Dongsungâs heart rate up, tears welling in his eyes. Friends.
âFriends,â Dongsung repeats, hoping his slightly pixelated camera is enough to keep Sehyuk from seeing the tears in his eyes. âFriends, okay.â
--
Dongsung doesnât know what it is about his problems always finding him at work.
Heâs checking out a lady (not that sort of checking out), making amicable chit-chat with her, when she suddenly says, âOh, youâre Dongsung?â
Dongsung thinks that maybe heâs garnered a reputation for being the kindest employee or something, but then the lady taps her top lip and Dongsung tries to discreetly feel his own with his tongue. Itâs the scar, the one heâs had for so long now, from where- well, he lets that die in his mind. âUm, yes? Thatâs me.â
The woman offers her hand, leaning across the conveyor belt to do so. âMy name is Yoori, Iâm part of the South Sect. Sehyuk is great friends with my sect leaders, I- he visited earlier this year and talked a lot about you.â
Dongsungâs heart still leaps at any mention of Sehyuk, but he keeps an even smile on his face and shakes her hand. âItâs nice to meet you, Yoori. He mentioned you had a daughter, now, where is she?â
âAh, sheâs at home. When someone offers to watch your child for you, even if itâs just for a run to the store, you take it.â Yoori smiles, tucking some of her dark brown hair behind her ear. âItâs very nice to meet you, Iâve⌠Iâve really wondered about you.â
Dongsung tries to imagine what sorts of things Sehyuk could have said about him to make him so marvelous in Yooriâs eyes. Once heâs finished bagging the refrigerated things, he canât keep his curiosities at bay anymore. âIf you donât mind me asking, I- What did he say that made you wonder so much about me?â
âOh dear, all sorts of thingsâŚâ Yoori digs her wallet out of her purse, swiping her card before Dongsung gets the chance to read her the total. âHe talked a lot about how much you protected him, kept him safe. How much you made him feel safe. I know what he did to you is⌠well, you know, but-â Yoori pauses, fingers pressing keys on the keypad as sheâs prompted to input her PIN. âHeâs a good man, that Sehyuk. While he was driven by selfish desires, he certainly wasnât, but⌠heâs so happy now.â
Yooriâs voice has gone fond, and it makes Dongsung feel awkward. âHe kept saying,â Yoori continues as she loads her cart down, âthat he didnât deserve anything. None of the kindness we showed him, none of the mercy you did, it was⌠heartbreaking. I hope heâs well and truly doing better.â
Dongsung hopes the same. He hopes Sehyuk is doing as well as he claims to be.
--
âDid I ever tell you I loved you?â
The question is sudden and makes Sehyuk stop short, hand hovering in mid-air. (Dongsung has discovered that Sehyuk talks with his hands a lot. Itâs adorable.) âNot⌠Not that I can remember, no, why?â Sehyukâs stature is tense now, like heâs nervous. His camera goes fuzzy for a moment, and he rushes to fix it.
Dongsung shrugs. âI- I was curious. I couldnât remember.â Things sit in the back of his throat, things he could say, caught somewhere between his head and his mouth. Theyâre uncalled for and maybe insincere, but he wants to say them. He sorts through them and says one that he thinks he might be ready to tackle. âItâs⌠Itâs like weâre avoiding the camel in the room, right?â
Sehyuk snorts through his nose, eyes crinkling. âCamel? Dongsung, itâs supposed to be elephant.â
âOh. Wait, really? I- Really?â
Sehyuk bites his lips, visibly trying to hold back laughter, and nods. âYes, dear, it is.â
Hearing the petname fall from Sehyukâs lips brings something crashing back into Dongsungâs head, snapshots of Sehyuk stroking his cheek and calling him all sorts of things. Dear, darling, sweetness, honey pie, buttercup. Itâs so sudden that it almost hurts. âYou used to call me things like that all the time,â Dongsung says quietly, almost sad.
âI did, didnât I?â Sehyuk replies, raking a hand through his hair. He looks so beautiful with his hair down, almost long enough to touch his shoulders now. âI can start doing it again.â And then, he tacks on a, âDarling.â
Dongsung gets the feeling that Sehyuk only used them back then to be condescending, exerting force in every area he could. But now, his eyes are soft and he sounds so genuine, the words filled with affection. Dongsung could almost cry.
Dongsung decides to try it out. âOkay, dear.â He whispers, trying to keep his voice from wavering.
Sehyuk smiles, but the weight of these past years shows through. It makes him look exhausted in a way Dongsungâs never seen before. âBut, back to your original sentiment,â Sehyuk says, pulling Dongsung out of his thoughts. âYouâre right, we are trying to ignore it. Itâs not like we havenât addressed it already, but itâs certainly best to⌠either put it behind us for good or let it end us on good terms. Donât you agree?â
Dongsung does agree. Theyâre silent for a few moments, looking at one another, and Dongsung canât believe that this tired-eyed man is the one that pried him apart and pieced him back together like this. He looks far, far away from Park Sehyuk, the leader of the East Sect. Now heâs just Park Sehyuk, a logistics major, sitting up late on a Saturday night talking to one of his friends half a world away.
âI suppose thereâs no explaining on my part that I can really give you,â Sehyuk says, propping his phone up on something so he can pull his hair up messily, smoothing it back as best he can. âNothing that will be sufficient enough, anyway.â
âIt was selfishness,â Dongsung says quietly, watching as Sehyuk redoes his hair, as itâs come out unsatisfactory. âIt was selfishness on both our parts. I wanted the world and you did too, but instead of us both getting it, you got⌠a fractured part of it and I got nothing.â
Sehyuk rubs his eyes sleepily and itâs the cutest thing, alleviating some of the negative emotion brewing in Dongsungâs chest. âYes, and like I said, thereâs no explaining for that selfishness that I can give you.â
âYou can try. I can try too.â
Sehyuk inhales deeply, looking away from the camera. âIt was a desire to be the best, when I wouldnât have been the best anyway. But, I really could have been something had I not fucked it up, fucked everything up.â Sehyuk returns his gaze to Dongsung. âIâm not sure if you know this or not, but Sangdo and I went to school together. He was well liked, successful, had lots of girl-and-boyfriends. And I was just⌠nothing. It killed me to not be the center of attention so I turned out like this.â
Thereâs heavy silence, Dongsung sorting through all the things he could say in response, the things he could say to explain his own reasons. In the end, he chooses, âThatâs- Thatâs why I never killed you.â
âHm?â
âI never killed you,â Dongsung says slowly, pausing to gather his words, âbecause I- I saw that. Before when you told me to kill you, it was- it was a test. Just to see if I would do it. But there at the endâŚâ
Sehyuk looks supremely wounded and Dongsung wonders if heâs gone too far. But- âYes, and I thank you for that. Youâre a good man, Dongsung, and I have far too many regrets concerning you that Iâm never, ever going to get over. I told you this two and a half years ago and Iâm telling you again, there is no forgiving me.â
Dongsung doesnât know how to tell Sehyuk that he already has. Every shred of his conscious mind, every part of him that he can control without any influence, all of it has already let go of the bitterness, the anger. And maybe it was too short of a time, after four years of abuse and that aforementioned prying apart. But the fact remains.
Dongsungâs chest is burning with things he could say, jumbled emotions that he canât figure out. It ends in tears and a quivering voice. âS-Sehyuk, I- I already have.â
It looks like Sehyukâs going to protest, argue with Dongsung about things he already knows, but in the end he just nods curtly, a soft movement. Everything about Sehyuk is so soft now, careful and measured.
âYouâve changed so much,â Dongsung whispers. His chest hurts when Sehyukâs face lifts in a smile.
âIs that a good thing?â
Dongsung nods emphatically, holding his phone a little tighter. âItâs a very good thing.â I love you so much.
âYouâve changed as well.â Sehyuk adds, giving Dongsung that terribly fond look that Dongsung thinks canât really be conveyed through cloudy lenses. âIâm glad of it. But, dearest, itâs almost three AM, I really need to go to sleep.â
âOh, yes, please do,â Dongsung says, and then, âdarling.â
Sehyuk just looks so thrilled. Itâs adorable. âSleep well. You have work tonight, correct? Good luck with that.â
âAnd you have class in the morning, so good luck with that,â Dongsung replies, and Sehyuk nods.
âWill do. Goodnight, dear.â
âGoodnight.â
--
Sehyuk asks for Dongsungâs address one week, and then in another couple Dongsung is getting a package.
Dongsung holds the brown box in his arms, warm because of the sunlight it had been sitting in. Heâs so excited that he feels like a child again.
He gets a knife from the kitchen and slices the tape with it, laying the knife aside and opening up the flaps. Within, there are various well-packaged trinkets, a couple packages of hard candy that is no doubt half-melted, and a letter laying in the bottom.
Dongsung starts from the top, pulling at bubble wrap to reveal the things inside. These turn out to be very New-York-specific things, magnets and shot glasses and one adorable apple made of crystal. Dongsung pauses halfway through to text Sehyuk, letting him know that he got the package and that he loves everything in it.
He fishes the envelope out of the bottom of the box and pulls the flap up delicately, pulling out what appears to be a Christmas card. He snorts, knowing full well that Christmas is almost four months away, and opens the card.
An honest-to-god Polaroid picture falls out and Dongsung catches it before it hits the floor, peering at it. It seems to be Sehyuk and James, though Dongsung has only seen James clearly once in his life, in a clothing store. Jamesâ smile is dazzling, but Dongsung is only interested in the way Sehyukâs nose is curled up, peace sign pressed against his cheek.
Dongsung holds the picture to his chest for a few moments, then lays it on the table in favor of reading whatâs in the card.
The pre-printed message reads, Wishing you a happy holiday season! The words that Sehyuk wrote himself in his swirling script, however, read, Christmas is four months away and I donât care. It was glittery so I bought it. This thing cost me six dollars I hope you like it. (Seriously, wishing you all the best. I just wanted to send you something. Hope you like everything!) - Sehyuk
Dongsung feels like he could cry, but keeps himself together long enough to unlock his phone and type into the new message box on Sehyukâs still-open chat window, I love you so much.
Thereâs time to backspace it, time to delete it, time to regret it. Instead, Dongsung locks his phone again and sets about finding a place to put his new crystal apple.
--

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
therapy [toppdogg, general]
help me breathe // rated T // 2,799 words
Dongsung never thought he would need a therapist.
[more]
Dongsung never thought that he would need a therapist.
He feels so strange, sitting in the leather armchair across from this woman. Dr. Lee Seoyoung, with a face that seems too young to be out of college already, dressed more casually than Dongsung would have imagined a therapistâs style to be.
Sheâs only just sat down, but sheâs already writing things on her large notepad, pink pen moving swiftly across the paper. She then raises her head, smiles, and says, âItâs nice to meet you, Mr. Kim. Iâm sure you already know my name, but Iâm Dr. Lee Seoyoung, and I hope I can give you the care you need and deserve.â
Dongsung nods, awkward. âUm, call me Dongsung, please.â
Dr. Lee smiles. âCall me Seoyoung, then. Iâve been friends with Yoonchul for a very long time, so I was glad to accept one of his friends as my patient. Whatâs the reason for your visit today, Dongsung?â
Dongsung licks his lips, searching Seoyoungâs soft eyes for a moment. âEverything. Everything thatâs going on, itâs justâŚâ He lets his gaze drop from Seoyoungâs face to the floor. âItâs all too much.â
âI understand. Whatâs got you most overwhelmed?â
âDealing. Coping with the things thatâs happened to me, and⌠just. Everything.â
âWould you mind telling me what happened?â Seoyoungâs voice remains gentle, pleasant. Itâs nice to listen to.
Dongsung closes his eyes. âI used to be part of a sect. Iâm⌠Iâm sure you heard, it was the East Sect.â
âMmhm. But, tell me anyways. In your own words.â
Dongsung exhales. âThe leader, SehyukâŚâ Saying his name pulls at Dongsungâs heart, and he pauses, focusing on his breathing. âHe broke parts of me. On the inside. He made me forget who I was, I⌠I still donât remember a lot about who I used to be.â
He hears the rustling of paper, the scribble of Seoyoung writing something down. âOkay. If youâre done, Iâd like to ask you some questions, Dongsung. And if, at any point, it gets too personal, tell me and weâll stop.â Dongsung makes an affirmative noise, so Seoyoung continues. âWhat was your motivation for joining a sect?â
â... Angry. I was⌠I was angry because I felt like the world owed me something.â Dongsung opens his eyes, seeing Seoyoung looking at him intently. He doesnât look at her directly, instead eyeing the way her dark red hair falls over her shoulders. Thereâs a frizzy bit caught in the strap of her dress. âMy plan was to kill Sehyuk and take the sect for myself. I⌠I had my hands around his throat, and a knee in his stomach, and I could have killed him then. That was the second day I was there. But he didnât struggle, he⌠he held onto my wrists and I saw something in his eyes, I donât know what it was.â
âVulnerability?â Seoyoung suggests, and Dongsung nods.
âI guess⌠it made me feel like he- he understood, somehow?â Dongsung presses his fingertips to his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Digging that far into his memory is painful. âHe didnât know why I was there past wanting to take over, but I think he didnât get what he wanted from the world, either. It... it makes more sense, too, with what he told me recently- well, not recently⌠almost a year ago?â
âWould you care to tell me what he told you?â Seoyoung asks, and Dongsung thinks it over.
âHe apologized a lot, and told me it wouldnât fix anything- which, heâs not wrong, it really didnât, not practically. But it⌠I donât know. I canât explain it.â Dongsung puts his hands over his eyes, shutting them tightly. âHe told me to kill him. It wasnât⌠it wasnât a demand, like- he always told me to do things in that tone, that sort of tone that youâd use with a dog. Thatâs what I was, I was a dog, he owned me and made me into who he wanted me to beâŚâ He opens his eyes, peeking out from between his fingers. Seoyoung is writing in her notepad, chewing the inside of her lip as she does so. âI still think about him, a lot. Is that wrong of me?â
âDepends,â Seoyoung says, without raising her gaze from the paper before her. âIn what way do you think of him?â
âI- I think about his voice a lot. I liked it a lot better when he⌠when he was talking to me like I mattered.â Dongsung closes his eyes again. âNear the end, yeah. He talked to me like that because I held his life in my hands and I- I just let him go, I let him live, because I didnât want to do what he told me anymore, but⌠also because I didnât want to be the one to kill him.â
âWere you fond of him, Dongsung?â
Dongsung pauses. âHe tried to make me love him.â He says after a few momentâs thought.
Seoyoung makes a soft noise. âI didnât ask if you loved him, Dongsung. I asked if you were fond of him, like⌠did you care about him? Or was it all just about spiting him?â
Dongsung inhales deeply, exhaling an answer. âYes. I cared about him, I- I still do.â He drops his hands suddenly, letting them hit his knees. âI want to just, touch him, most of all. I want to hold his hands in mine. His cheeks were soft.â
Seoyoung doesnât respond.
âI want to kiss him again.â
Seoyoung nods, setting her notepad aside. âI believe, from everything youâve told me today⌠you need assurance that this is okay. And it is. Youâre not going to come away from this unscathed, Dongsung, and you might not stop thinking about it, about Sehyuk himself, for years to come. He made you a completely different person, so itâs likely his power over your life will not disappear, only diminish.â
âItâs okay for me to miss him?â Dongsung asks, suddenly feeling a sharp stab of desperation.
Seoyoung nods. âCertainly. Especially if he attempted to condition you to love him, thereâs probably some part of you that still genuinely does. And you do like him an awful lot, it seems. Do you not hate him at all?â
Tears well in Dongsungâs eyes, so he puts his hands over his face again. âWhoever I used to be hates him. Itâs deep in there, but itâs- itâs not all of me, itâs not big enough to matter.â
âBut it would cause problems if you were friends with him, right?â
Dongsung swallows hard. âRight.â
âAnd thatâs the thing- forming relationships with past abusers, whether they abused you or someone else, it rarely works.â Thereâs the sound of Seoyoung picking up her tablet once again. âI canât say that it would be a total failure, but if thereâs even that little bit of total hatred, a grudge buried deep⌠itâll come out sooner or later, and itâll make both of you miserable.â
Dongsung tries to discreetly wipe his tears away, but heâs sure Seoyoung has noticed. âI just miss him.â
âItâs understandable. It may go away with time, or it may always be this ache in your chest and thoughts in the back of your head. But either way, itâs best to find a way to cope with it.â
Dongsung takes a deep breath, uncovering his face in favor of wiping his eyes with his sleeves. âCan we stop for today?â
Seoyoung smiles, warm. âOf course. My cell phone number is the second number on my business card, you can text or call at any time. Keep yourself safe, Dongsung.â
Dongsung nods, standing. Seoyoung follows suit, and even with her tall heels, sheâs still a head shorter than him. âThank you, really,â Dongsung says, and Seoyoung smiles.
âItâs not a problem, dear. I hope youâll be okay soon.â
Dongsung does too.
--
Seoyoung looks good with her hair up.
âItâs been a bit since your last visit,â Seoyoung says, crossing her legs. Sheâs in a pantsuit today, the legs of her pants too long for her short stature; one of the hems is currently caught under her heel, but she doesnât seem to notice. âHow are you?â
Dongsung shrugs. âIâm fine, I guess. I keep having weird dreams.â
âWeird how, exactly?â
âItâs always sunset, and thereâs always someone with me. No matter who it is, theyâre talking to me and they hold my hand.â Dongsung looks out the window, at the late morning sky turning a rich blue. âI thought it was a Sehyuk thing, because the first time I had it, Sehyuk was the one there. But thereâs been my brother, and Hansol, and Sanggyun, more recently⌠So, I dunno.â
âItâs most likely a manifestation of some subconscious thoughts. Worries, maybe. Can you remember what any of them say to you?â
âWell, thatâs the thingâŚâ Dongsung brings his eyes to Seoyoung, whoâs chewing on the cap of her pen. âI know theyâre talking to me, but I can never hear them. Itâs usually like, right before I wake up, and then suddenly I just hear this one thing. I think about it for days afterwards.â
âWhatâs been the most impactful one?â Seoyoung asks, not moving her pen away from her mouth.
âThe first one. It was, I miss you too, Dongsung.â
Seoyoung nods slowly, reaching for her notepad. Dongsung waits until sheâs finished, then asks: âCan I see that?â
âOf course,â Seoyoung says with a smile, handing the notepad over. âI keep one special for each patient, so itâs fine.â
Dongsung takes it from her, flipping through. Itâs mostly condensed versions of everything Dongsungâs told her in their three visits, with some directly quoted and noted as âworrisomeâ or with an indication to âwatch out for more comments like thisâ.
âAs a disclaimer,â Seoyoung begins as Dongsung flips to the front to read her initial evaluation, âthe first page was all from our first visit. You havenât been diagnosed with anything, so thatâs why everything is phrased as âtendenciesâ or âpossibility to developâ.â
Dongsung reads through everything, scribbled in various colors of ink, then hands back the notepad. âYouâre a good person,â he says, prompting Seoyoungâs eyebrows to rise. âNot just good at what you do, youâre just a good person.â
Seoyoung smiles, shutting the notepad and setting it aside. âYouâre a good person too, Dongsung. Iâm certain you were good before, and youâre good now.â
--
Seoyoung dyed her hair. It falls wavy black around her shoulders and Dongsung stares for a few moments before saying, âIt looked better red.â
Seoyoung smiles, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger. âYou think so? My boyfriend told me it looked good this way, so I dunno.â
âOh yes, the boyfriend. He knows best.â Dongsung says, smiling.
Seoyoung nods. âCertainly. But, onto more serious matters.â She picks her pen up from where it lays beside her, resting between her leg and the couch cushion beside it. âYouâve been seeing me for nearly a year now, once a week. Compare your current state- emotional, physical, mental, etcetera- Â to your state eleven months ago. Has it improved or deteriorated?â
Dongsung does as heâs told, looking off to the side as he thinks. Itâs⌠tricky, to say the least, pushing through his muddled thoughts and memories as thoroughly as he can to pick out which answer fits best. âBoth. I really feel like itâs both.â He says at last, bringing his eyes back to Seoyoung.
And, of course, the next question as usual is, âAnd why do you feel that?â
âItâs improved because youâve helped me accept things, I guess.â Dongsung swallows, looking at the floor. He wiggles his toes in his shoes. âYouâve helped me⌠recognize that everything is⌠valid? But also made sure I didnât⌠delude myself into thinking I was okay. I think thatâs the reason why Iâm also worse, now, because realizing that Iâm not okay even though I thought I was really kicked my ass.â
Seoyoung hums, tapping her foot on the floor idly as she writes. She then flips through her notebook, pages making soft noises as she does so. âEleven months ago, you told me the most prevalent feeling was sadness, followed by confusion. What is it now?â
âAnger,â Dongsung answers almost immediately. He doesnât give Seoyoung time to follow up with the and why question. âIâm just- Iâm mad at a lot of things. Iâm still mad at myself. Iâm mad at Sehyuk,â and itâs still no easier to say his name, âfor different reasons now.â
âWhat are they now?â Seoyoung asks, voice gentle.
Dongsung puts his hands over his face, sighing. âFor leaving me alone. I still have Yoonchul and Sanggyun, and Taeyang still talks to me even though he got his own place a few months ago. But they⌠they donât understand. Itâs not like Sehyuk would really understand either, but at least he⌠he- I donât know.â
âItâs alright, Dongsung,â Seoyoung says, couch creaking when she shifts. âDonât push yourself too hard. Take things as they come. Itâs one day at a time, darling.â
Dongsung exhales a breath he didnât know he was holding. âI just miss him.â
âDo you still wish you could touch him?â Seoyoung asks, and Dongsung knows sheâs reading over session reports from months ago, asking him things for clarification, seeing if anything has changed. Seeing if Dongsung is getting better.
âYes.â
--
âYou got a haircut,â Seoyoung observes, a positive lilt to her voice.
Dongsung smiles, fingertips teasing his now-short hair, cropped close and dyed black again. âYeah. I havenât cut it this short since way before I joined the sect, I figured itâd be a good change.â
Seoyoung nods in agreement. âYes, it is. It looks good on you.â
âOh, before I forget, look.â Dongsung holds out his hand to Seoyoung, and Seoyoung leans over so she can see what heâs referring to- a ring, sitting snugly on his index finger, with a tarnished band and inlaid with sparkling opals.
âHow pretty,â Seoyoung marvels, taking Dongsungâs hand in hers gently, so she can turn the ring towards the sunlight.
âSangwon gave me a box of things he didnât want from the sect house. This was one of the things in there.â Dongsung rubs his thumb across the ring once Seoyoung relinquishes his hand, sighing. âIt was one of Sehyukâs rings. He wore it a lot in the first few months I was there, but by the time the sect dissolved, he never wore it. I donât know why.â
âOoo, I see. Though, Dongsung, are you sure itâs a good idea to keep things of his?â Seoyoungâs voice turns up in concern, a frown on her face. âIt may end up causing more harm than good.â
âI⌠I remember holding his hand and feeling his ring against my hand.â Dongsung says quietly, staring down at the stones shining around his finger. âItâs one of the only things I do remember. You know, how most things I remember from those days are just feelings, general ideas, that sort of thing? I remember this perfectly.â Dongsung looks to Seoyoung, pausing for a few moments. âSo I wanted to keep it.â
Seoyoung nods, writing this information down in her notebook. âAlright, I understand. Let me know if you remember anything else like that, okay?â
Dongsung nods. Truth be told, he already remembers lots of things similar to that, and all of them relate to Sehyuk. However, some of them are things he doesnât want Seoyoung to know, things he clings to in an attempt to bandage wounds and bridge gaps that they arenât quite qualified to bandage and bridge. Itâs better than nothing.
--
âDongsung, your therapist is kind of hot.â
âSanggyun, do you forget that youâre married?â
Sanggyunâs cheeks flare and he pushes at Dongsungâs shoulder. âNot like that, not like- not like I think sheâs hot, sheâs just- she is.â
Dongsung nods. âMmhm. Sure, okay.â
âNo, Dongsung, listen. I am, I am gay. I am the gayest. I-â Sanggyun spots Yoonchul coming into the room, holding a mug of coffee in his hand. âLook! There, there he is, thatâs my husband, right there. Dongsung look.â
Dongsung does look, taking in Yoonchulâs bewildered expression. âI think you may be alarming your husband, Sanggyun.â
âYes, definitely,â Yoonchul concurs as he sits down on the couch opposite them, still staring at Sanggyun with a strange expression on his face.
âNo! No, Yoonchul! You agree Dr. Lee is kind of hot, right?â Sanggyun asks, something like desperation sinking into his voice.
Yoonchul shrugs with one shoulder, taking a sip of his coffee. âI donât know, sheâs not really my type.â
âYour type is sharp cheekbones and Cheeto fingers, right?â Dongsung supplies, and Yoonchul nods with a grin.
âDefinitely.â
--
softness [no.mercy] [yookyun]
vampire AU // rated T // 1,265 words warnings for: brief description of violence
Minkyun opens up and starts moving on.
--
Minkyun isnât quite sure what to make of Yoosuâs best friend.
His name is Kwangji and he has a loud laugh and a deep voice. He speaks politely to Minkyun but tosses jabs at Yoosu and steals food from his plate. It makes Minkyun feel, strangely, like heâs intruding on something.
Kwangji invited Yoosu out for dinner, and Yoosu made Minkyun come too. Minkyun was concerned about being unwanted until Yoosu informed him that Kwangji would like him and wonât mind. And, really, it seems like Kwangji doesnât mind whatsoever, itâs justâŚ
Minkyun doesnât need to eat regular food, and even if he did, heâd just throw it up later anyway because his body canât process it. So, he pushes his rice around on his plate, forlorn, remembering the times where he could eat it, remembering eating ramyeon with his friends on the weekend and watching movies with a bowl of popcorn in his lap. He misses it dearly.
Minkyun squeezes his eyes shut. He doesnât want to cry here, he doesnât want to be a burden. He keeps them closed until he hears the squeal of a chair being pushed back and looks up, seeing Yoosu headed in the direction of the bathrooms.
Kwangji immediately turns his attention to Minkyun, almost alarmingly so. âIâve noticed something in our time together, here.â
âW-What?â Minkyun asks, fidgeting with his chopsticks nervously.
âYouâve really smoothed Yoosu out.â Kwangji takes a sip of his drink, smiling fondly. âHe used to be, you know, all sharp edges and blunt words. He never asks me how I am if something hasnât happened recently, just as small talk, but he did it tonight.â Kwangji sets his drink back down, looking at Minkyun. His gaze is soft. âThe way he looks at you is adorable.â
Minkyun feels a rush of embarrassment, a need to hide his face even though his chagrin wonât show. Kwangji picks up on it and laughs, shifting in his chair. âYouâre good for him,â Kwangji says quietly. âIâve known him for almost five years and Iâve never seen such genuine smiles on his face. Take your time with him, heâs worth it.â
Yoosu comes back then, both of their attentions moving back to him as he does. Yoosu flicks his gaze to Minkyun for a moment, corners of his mouth turning up, and Minkyun sees it there- a burning affection, love, deep in his eyes.
Minkyun returns his smile and then ducks his head, feeling like heâs going to melt.
--
âWhatâcha reading?â
Minkyun turns his attention from the book in his hands to Yoosu, whoâs curling up beside him in bed and nestling his head on his shoulder. âItâs just⌠a book I found on your shelf, itâs interesting.â
Yoosu smiles, tilting his head up to kiss the side of Minkyunâs neck, lips lingering on the scars there. âHey, that reminds me. Is it way too early for me to be curious about how you died?â
Minkyun tenses. He feels like thatâs probably important to know, maybe, but heâs- he drops his focus to Yoosuâs face, still pressed into his neck- heâs scared of remembering what happened.
Yoosu notices his discomfort and raises to kiss his cheek, gentle. âI didnât say you had to tell me, only if you want to. I wanna know, though.â
Minkyun sucks in a breath, fullness in his lungs calming him slightly. âI⌠god, I want to tell you but I donât want to think about itâŚâ
âShh. Donât, then.â
Minkyun takes another breath. âNo. It⌠it was dark.â
--
It was dark and I was alone. I was in college, you know, I wanted to be a singer⌠my night class had just ended and I- I wasnât scared, not really, because Iâd walked the same street for almost a year at that point and nothing had ever happened. Nobody had ever died from my college, that side of the city is- itâs supposed to be okay.
But- I guess thereâs a first time for everything, or something like that. I⌠I canât remember what they looked like, I only- I can remember how cold their hands were. One of them had bad breath. It was⌠ah⌠the woman, she was the one who- mmm.
(âTake your time,â Yoosu whispers, fingers soft on the inside of Minkyunâs wrist.)
She killed me, and turned me. She told me she was, uh, giving me new life or whatever. I just remember being so scared, so so scared, and cold.
I⌠I donât know how much time passed, how long I was out, but when I woke up I wasnât in the city. It was⌠a field, and I remember that everything was so overwhelming. I could hear birdsâ wings overhead and I could smell things I donât think Iâd ever smelled in my life, fresh grass and something from far away⌠The stars were so bright.
I thought it was almost- almost cool. And really, it was, until- you know. I must have killed twelve people, m-maybe more, I donât- I donât remember. I donât remember what they looked like or how I did it but I remember that it was four days of nothing but, just, grabbing people off the streets and, just, god.
(Yoosu reaches up to catch tears before they fall.)
Once I snapped out of it, everything calmed down, but I remembered killing people and it crushed me. I couldnât stop crying, and that just- it made everything worse. Wonho⌠I donât remember how Wonho found me but I know that he helped me. He fixed me and got me to stop crying but he couldnât get me to hunt, feed, nothing that wasnât out of a bag.
--
âBut,â Minkyun stops to take a breath, just to calm himself, ânow weâre here.â
âNow weâre here,â Yoosu echoes, kissing the side of Minkyunâs nose like he likes to do so much. âWhat do you miss most?â
Minkyunâs sure Yoosu is expecting something like the ability to eat or college classes or his friends, but- âMy heartbeat. I miss my heartbeat.â
Yoosu nods, understanding though not quite. Heâs never going to go through this. âIâm sorry.â
âItâs fine. Itâs- I donât know. I donât want to say that it hurts less now because itâs- itâs only been nine months.â Minkyun laughs, though it sounds sad and hollow to his own ears. âWonho calls me a baby. Heâs almost two hundred years old, did you know that? Itâs incredible.â Minkyun closes his eyes, finally letting the book drop from his hands and thumping his head against the wall. âI donât know if I want to live that long.â
âIâll live that long with you,â Yoosu whispers. âYou know, being a carton of half-and-half has its perks.â
Minkyun canât help himself- he bursts into laughter, giggling behind his hand and turning to look at Yoosu. âHalf-and-half?â He repeats.
âYeah! I mean, Iâve been called a half-blood more times than I can count, so I might as well own up to it and be a delicious creamer.â Yoosu shrugs, and Minkyun snorts. âItâs never really bothered me. I know there are some hybrids that I used to, uh, work with, I guess, that got really upset by the things they were called. I just used to keep a little list of them. My favorite was mutt, that was cool.â
Minkyun whines, turning his head to kiss Yoosuâs forehead. âYouâre fine, just the way you are.â
âOh, I know I am. But thank you.â
Minkyun rolls his eyes. Yoosu grins. âYouâre too much sometimes.â
âThatâs my job.â
--