The Art of Capturing A Butterfly

by cornalina

Summary:

Hyunjin likes doing things in threes. He’s cultivated the perfect routine - clean his apartment, shower until his flesh scalds and go to work. He has everything he needs, his beauty, his pretty white lines, that bewitching ability to spin seductively down the pole as he strips himself to temptation. And what he certainly doesn’t need is the absolutely infuriating bodyguard that suddenly starts hovering around.

 

In which Hyunjin’s standoffish life as a high-end Vegas stripper comes splintering down in the wake of a very stubborn, very annoying private bodyguard he has no desire in getting to know. Unfortunately for him, Changmin, Changbin - whatever his name was - shows up every night with that same stupid fucking smirk despite all his brattish attempts to drive him away. Fuck.

Chapter 1: Tears of a Tiger Lily

Some people are born facing the sun, he thinks, backs bared against shadows as if petaled to that of a lemon-rose, others laved in susurrus strips of discarded moonlight, souls unfurling at night when sleep befalls its neighbors. Some are born babied, honed to selfishness from years and years of indulgence, shrouded in the scattered remnants of floral scents.

Some are forgotten, cradle themselves to human resemblance in the dust-filled corners of upbringing. His mother was born on a spindly web of silk, nested on the rigorous hills of rootless tradition. His step-father on the grumbling desert curve, gutted by canyons and all things a burning red.

Some are born lustful, grasping.

Hyunjin was born rotten.

It hasn’t taken him long to realize it, dirtied patterns lingering upon the lines of his palms, skin-deep and ugly. Reptilian, almost. In the ashen wake of his barren backyard he could spot them sometimes, ridge-nosed rattlesnakes and small, restless lizards.

He looked at them and they looked back. Sweaty, nervous, he would hunch down and rest his head on his knees, desperate not to scare them off. They were like monsters, he thought. Tiny, funny monsters that came to say hello.

At times Hyunjin felt bad for them. The sun was unbearable this time of the year, searing his flesh and soaking his clothes that were too small. They were always too small. But the reptiles did not seem to mind.

He never tried to touch one. He was scared that they might do something to him and he did not want to dirty himself further, grime and filth burrowed like a deep layer of something that watered him, kept him alive.

He was born rotten. At least, that is what his mother said. Shameful. Devil-made. A curse. She taught him many words like that, melodic and of strenuous exhales before she decided to stop speaking to him in Korean. They were in America after all and now that she had an American - gritty, sturdy, all things unbearable - husband, she would only utter words in thick-accented English. The insults turned a bit simpler after that.

Ugly. Disgusting. Hyunjin would repeat them back sandpaper-tongued and slow. He would have to learn too, before school started.

When his days soon became ridden with books and songs and silly, rhythmic games it did not take long for him to catch up. Surely rotten kids could read books too? Hyunjin did. He read many, fingers light and of ginger as he tried not to let his excitement scorn the pages when he flipped them.

When he finished, mind booming with a delicious exhaustion, he would check to see if there were any smudges of filth imprinted upon the ink from his touch. Hyunjin checked carefully, of course he did. He did not want others to know about his little secret, that he was born the way his mother said he was. But he never found any, which he thought odd.

Stories were fun, electrifying. Especially the fairytale ones. He read those the most, imagined the curving stick he found in the woods behind his house to be one of magic, swaying it wildly back and forth as he yelled out enchantments.

Sometimes he would see animals too, bugs of all kinds that came to greet him. Some of them were a little scary, but he liked the pretty ones. The butterflies and the lightning bugs especially. He would pretend they could talk, would tell them silly stories about witches and monsters they had to help him defeat. Of course they always helped him and he always won. Stories were fun.

Cartoons were even funner - no, that wasn’t a word. His teacher always had to remind him. But they were, he thought.

Often, before his mother came back from work, he would sit cross-legged on the floorboards, back bared against the frayed couch and laugh as he watched Wile. E Coyote try to catch the Road Runner. He never could, flashes of a deep brown and resounding blue blinking before his eyes magnetically. Sometimes if he laughed too loudly he would clap a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. His mother hated it when he was loud.

He couldn’t help it, he thought. It seemed he was born with simply too much coursing through him, his steadily growing bones not big enough to withhold it all, to keep it tightly locked and nursed to conformity. Yes, his limbs frenzied all over the place, bound itself to every tightly spaced crook and crevice of his small, cramped house.

Before childhood became wet with wrongdoing and all the heaviness it bore, Hyunjin would dance. He paid it all the love and energy his aching muscles could muster and to his delight, it paid him back. Passion - small stems of them ready to blossom every time he stole one of his mother’s CDs from the 80s and played it to his heart’s content.

His lungs would expand and swell, gasping for breath as he sang loud and incorrectly to the lyrics, his small body twisting and turning with every beat that dropped.

He knew then that feeling, that feeling he could not name because he had not learnt the words to describe it yet. The feeling of ‘this is what I must do and I do not know why, only that I must.’ Invigorated by his own belief, he molded into a mess of jangled bones and limbs flying everywhere - not that he particularly cared - until he stumbled upon the TV channels where dancers moved themselves with such grace and energy that his eyes bulged wide and his mouth would not stop stretching.

He began copying them, those pretty men and women, turning when they did, stretching his legs when they did, tapping his feet when they did. Once he got the moves down, he began forming his face as they did, smiling wide, scrunching his eyebrows together, pouting, smiling, pouting, smiling. He understood it then, that he was not only dancing. He was telling a story.

Hyunjin loved stories. If he could make one, a really good one like the people he watched on TV, then maybe it would not matter that he was born rotten. Perhaps the heatwave and the strong grip of his mother’s bumbling words would not throttle him so, would not suppress him and force him to the grainy Arizona earth.

One day he would dance on a stage in front of thousands of people, watchful eyes that would all admire and love him and they would cry from his storytelling! Yes, Hyunjin thought, that was what he would do.

He was born rotten, boundlessly so, but he didn’t think stage lights were bright enough for anyone to see it anyway.

 

-

 

“You really are down for anything, huh?” The man on top of him grunts, sweaty, red-faced. He reminds Hyunjin of a nose-ringed bull, pushing and pushing until the matador cruelly swivels the red banner away from his clogged up eyes.

Hyunjin can’t say anything, not when the bull’s hands are so tightly wrapped around his neck, squeezing and moaning so hard his eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

He only manages to let out a high-pitched whine, the sharp edges of the table digging roughly into his hipbones as the man thrusts in particularly hard from behind.

“Fuck,” He breathes out, rhythm turning erratic and faltering slightly. He retreats one of his hands from Hyunjin’s neck to press it harshly against his lower back, fingers creeping along to clutch at his waist.

The sporadic freedom around his neck finally produces sounds that come out only half-choked, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he pants. This guy is relentless.

Hyunjin hardly even notices the way his grip halts, squeezes and then lets go entirely as the man buries his face into his own nape, breathing heavy and disgusting and Hyunjin lets out an airy laugh as he tries to compose himself. The guy pulls out soon enough, wrapping the condom with the speed of someone who has done it many times before and tossing it into the trash can.

The sunlight streams from a small curtainless strip against the windowpane as it flickers unrighteously upon the glimmering stone nestled on the man’s finger. Hyunjin’s grin widens, fingers quick to start shimmying up his jeans and shirt as gracefully as his already set time limit will allow him to. He never stays after.

“Leaving already?” The man asks, his cheeks stretching as they form a mischievous smile.

Hyunjin only grins apologetically back, running a hand through his hair as he finishes up his appearance in front of the hallway mirror, fishing forward his favorite lip gloss and applying it concentratedly. Even though he’d worn a condom, Hyunjin thinks he can feel his remnants dripping ungodly down his leg. He needs several showers.

“Wouldn’t want to accidentally stay and scare your wife, is all.”

The man only gives him a pointed look before getting dressed, shaking his head as if wanting to discard himself of the reminder. He lets out a low, tittering mumble burning with something Hyunjin can’t recognize. “My husband.”

Oh. Hyunjin clocks the wedding photo on the credenza right below the mirror, two handsome men smiling blissfully up at the camera in finely tailored suits. Gay people cheat too, he supposes.

“Well,” Hyunjin starts, straightening himself up and already one foot out the door as he winks flirtatiously. “Give him my best!”

He doesn’t bother letting his gaze linger long enough to see the look on the man’s face before he slams the door shut, feet moving hastily on their own as he strolls out of the apartment building, blinding warmth pressing its way directly into his windpipe the moment he lets his feet tread upon the cracked out sidewalks of a crumbling concrete.

In many ways, he had found a home in Nevada with its hot, tightly compressed swells of heat that overwhelm you the minute you step outside and the heavy juxtaposition of that flashy, sparkly pulse keeping it alive and the spattered, coiling grit in its sidewalks, dirtying your feet as you walk on it.

The city was not a place of comfort, but neither was anywhere else Hyunjin had ever been. Perhaps he liked that about it. Living in Vegas was not for the mundane, suburban bound man or woman who shopped at Whole Foods and spent Saturday nights playing board games with the neighbors.

It was for the experienced, the hardened wild roots forever chasing something that didn’t exist, where headaches were a common occurrence and the predictability of a day was nonexistent.

Like today, for instance, when his impulsively spurred on decision to join the gym finally amounted to something after weeks of flirting with the bull-man - Hyunjin can’t remember his name - who always suspiciously began upping his weight limit whenever he came around.

It had been satisfactory enough, although he hadn’t even gotten off himself. Ugh. Whatever. His skin buzzed in a dangerous, jittery sort of anticipation, already thirsted and pruned in waiting languidly for the evening, for when the nocturnal yellowed force of his belly would rear itself alive and vigorous for what always seemed like the first time ever.

But as usual, during the droning, echoing slumber of day, he had things to do before work. Sleep, shower, clean his apartment, cigarette, fuck around if he had the energy, shower, cigarette, shop, eat, shower again, get ready for work, cigarette.

Hyunjin fishes forward his phone to check the time as he lets out a slow drag, exhaling the cloudy fumes with roots for lungs and marrow. Fuck. He didn’t have time to go home and shower before grocery shopping.

He rubs his arm mindlessly, tracing its grit and ridges with a billowing blanket of something horrid and wretched threatening to lull it asleep. He doesn’t have time for this, placing the butt of the cigarette gingerly against his lips as he lets it soothe his flesh.

His walk to the grocery store is always hasty and well-calculated, body twisting and filtering through the hoards of people with ease. At least here there are not that many tourists mingling hawk-eyed and gawking around as they point excitedly at glittering billboards and scrunch their noses in disgust at the wafting smell of homelessness all at the same time. He’ll save their delight for when it’s time to work, nose itching and grin lazy as he makes his way down the Strip.

For now he savors their absence, tossing his cigarette against the concrete and grinding it to a halt with the heel of his shoe as he approaches the store. He notices the huddled woman shrouded in shawls by the entrance, face tautly wound with the lines of all the years he had not yet come to live as she gives him a toothless grin and waves a paper cup shakily in front of him.

Normally he wouldn’t bother, but he remembers the woman from before, her voice echoing distinctly in his head as she had called him beautiful a couple of days ago. Hyunjin fishes forward his wallet and hands her a couple of bills. He supposes he’s always been a sucker for vain compliments anyway.

Her faint smile dwindles into remnants of a soon to be memory the moment he steps inside, his spine straightening itself immediately as the air condition runs a horrid chill through him.

Hyunjin sighs deeply, fingers scrubbing themselves together as he spills hand sanitizer all over them and feet moving on their own as he already knows exactly where to go. God, he wishes he weren’t sober.

The aisles in the grocery store are always horribly, illogically categorized. It shouldn’t bother him, not anymore when he’s lived here long enough to know them by the back of his hand and yet still, it does. Like the slightly delayed ticking hand of the clock.

It’s minuscule, hardly noticeable if one doesn’t pay attention. It isn’t important, to most people. To Hyunjin it is.

The shelves all extend themselves to the same length, long, wide and reminiscent of the city blocks right outside. The products are often misplaced, undoubtedly so, though that isn’t what usually bothers him, not on days where the sweltering heatwaves burn him in a comfortable, tolerable manner.

It’s the colors, the carefully arranged belt of a prism from each grouped together product - red, orange, yellow and so forth. It’s logical. Except when the cereal aisle comes to an abrupt halt and the subtly intentional display of hues becomes disrupted by a new, even wider range of products - cereal bars, cereal bars are always what come after the cereal boxes in his local, refulgently lit grocery store - the careful construction of the prism turns to fallacy. Red, orange, yellow, blue?

Hyunjin always forcibly reminds himself not to let his itching fingers reach out and start moving things, gingerly placing every paper-stuffed packaging so that they make sense, so that they’re right.

He has half a mind to simply just do it - it would make coming to the grocery store a lot more bearable - until the extensive array of unseen germs quickly throttle his thought process to dust. Who knows what kind of sin-boiled hands have filtered through the aisles before him, assuredly bathed in the same dirt filled vices of the very ones he lets graze across his skin night after night.

Yes, it’s better to just let it be. His job does not include extending his unnecessary organizational skills to places he isn’t even employed.

He lets it go, eventually as he always does whenever his trailing mind sludges into incompletion, the bright edged colors of the cardboard boxes blurring his vision with bulging, cartooned googly eyes and lopsided smiles swirling along for as far as he can see. Hyunjin reaches for his regular, - cinnamon, sugary ridges sticky against his tongue - and places the cereal box into his basket without a second thought. He always gets the same things, isn’t one for experimenting with his weekly food shopping anyway.

His body twists as he’s ready to move on to the neighboring aisle - crackers, cookies. Red right after yellow - before slowing mindfully, catlike movements halted by an ogling mutt in his way.

Hyunjin grins, eyes glinting playfully in the way he knows has people’s minds reeling, the man smiling back at him confidently. He’s a bit older, calloused hands and finely trimmed haircut framing his unabashed expression nicely.

Hyunjin peer’s inconspicuously into his basket, an array of organic, overpriced greenery overflowing the red edges. There’s an odd packet of maple syrup flavored jerky in there too. He had been staring, it’s clear. Hyunjin doesn’t mind.

“Hey, sorry to disturb you but,” the man looks him up and down, lips tugging up further into a charming, lighthearted grin. “Do I know you? You seem familiar.”

Oh, so he was going that route. Hyunjin leans into it the way one exhales deeply in the swell of a Nevada-drenched summer; easily and with the hull of a comforting desperation. Second nature.

“Oh really?” He steps forward, soft and pillowy with only slightest of movement. The man’s gaze follows him like moths to a flame. “Well, if you say so I’m sure you’re right. I’m not very forgettable.” His words curl at the edges like gently rumpled silk, seductive and inviting. Mr. Jerky follows the slope of his lips with careful, greedy eyes.

It’s almost too easy, Hyunjin thinks, though he isn’t interested. He rarely is when he really thinks about it, but seldom does he bother contemplating such frivolities. Droning, intruding dates seem like anything but fun to him. Flirting on the other hand, he very much enjoys.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure.” Glimmering eyes, overconfident smirk. They’re all the same. “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face like that.”

Hyunjin has heard the shtick before, the ‘I know you from somewhere, what’s your name again?’ charade and yet there’s something unsettling about the fixated gaze boring into him, desire and teasing prevalent as always, yes, but riddled with small kernels of what seems like…confusion? Maybe the man does know him from somewhere.

Inwardly, he frowns. Dappled with an expensive, gray-seamed suit and luxurious unpronounceable brand-named glasses, he doesn’t seem at all like he’d titter around the same sidewalk cracks and neighborhoods as Hyunjin does. Still, the man gauges him with a searching, scrutinizing expression. Yes, he definitely recognizes him.

“And what kind of face would that be, hm?” Hyunjin sends him an innocent, all too coy smile as he leans his upper arm against the shelf right next to him.

“A one as beautiful as yours.” Yawn. He could do better than that. Hyunjin’s certainly heard more interesting hooks. It’s like Mr. Jerky isn’t even trying to get him caught.

Hyunjin bares his neck slightly to the side, coy smile twisting into one of a shy, demure tilt. Then, before he can respond, the man asks him pointedly, eyebrows furrowed into slits as his ventures of flirtation halt momentarily. “Wait, did we go to school together?”

Hyunjin blinks, back straightening itself automatically. For a second he tries, tries to recall slivers of his yellow-bused past with a great unbecoming strain, the urge to alleviate it brewing strongly inside of him.

He could never remember much of his childhood. Not that he tried particularly hard to recall any of it, but there were moments of his life were he wished he could reach back, gather bits and fragments that could perhaps help him out in situations like these.

“Are you from Arizona?” Hyunjin asks, eyes flitting to the cereal boxes on the shelves right next to him, fluttering to the top row of light brown packages that are on sale. He’s tried one of them before, small dark chocolate pillows that mysteriously taste like nothing and everything at the same time.

They’re on sale, so it’s okay. He reaches for one of them, stretching his upper body as much as he can, lean and slender as he slots it between his fingers.

He can feel the man’s eyes burn against his skin and he smirks quietly to himself. Of course they do, with the prominent way the hem of his t-shirt rides up, exposing the bare strip of skin dipping into his waistline and revealing his tattoo-swirled hip. Hyunjin shoots him a knowing, playful look, amused at his gaping.

The man’s eyes widen momentarily, still stuck on the ascending kaleidoscope of butterflies etched onto his flesh, fluttering from his hipbone and dipping into his jeans where only lust-driven imagination can begin to do it justice. Something dawns on Mr. Jerky then, a surprised, almost intimidated recognition unscrewing his face.

Oh. Oh. So that’s where he recognizes him from. Hyunjin would have just rolled his eyes and left if his twisted, shock-frozen expression wasn’t so funny. He thinks with a reaction like that - so callow and puritan like - the man really had no business being where he was at all.

“Um, sorry,” He mumbles, cheeks reddening in obvious embarrassment. He looks panicked, like a small mouse trapped in a cage of his own hot-blooded sin. Most of the men who recognized him in public did not react like this at all. Strip clubs did attract people of all kinds, he supposed. “I uh, I think I should get going actually. I have a meeting to get to.”

Hyunjin only stares at him pitifully. Is he humiliated by the fact that he was a patron of Hyunjin’s job? Does he think he’ll judge him for it? Maybe he’s just one of those tightly bound religious types too scattered with years of denial and guilt to divulge in their desires when nightfall did not darken the sky.

Or maybe, maybe he judges Hyunjin for it. He knows that type all too well - sinner by night, preacher by day. Well then. Hyunjin tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow, patiently waiting for the fumbling man to compose himself. Since he’d already decided to make assumptions about him purely based off of his job, he supposes there’s no harm in playing along.

“Me too actually.” Hyunjin grins, straightening himself up. “They’ll get mad down at the rec center if I’m late again.”

“The rec center?” He asks, lips slightly downturned and eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, sex addicts anonymous,” Hyunjin says casually, feigning a bright smile and shrugging his shoulders as if there isn’t much to his statement.

He almost starts bursting out in laughter at the scandalized, shock-stricken expression that mars the man’s face, eyes even wider than before and cheeks burning in discomfort.

“Oh.”

Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, lets the uncomfortableness of the bug-eyed man before him burn into him in all the right places. His grin widens, tone playful and innocent. “You gotta show up if you want the chip, right?”

“Um,” Mr. Jerky stutters hopelessly, gaze flitting all over the place as if looking desperately for some sort of escape route. Hyunjin almost doubles over, but only brushes past him instead as he slinks up from his position, feet graceful and nimble as they begin to stretch.

“Anyway, see you around.” He throws him a wink, pearly teeth on charming display. “You know where to find me.”

 

-

 

The floorboards are clean enough for him to sit on, he’s certain of this every time he comes home and scrubs them mercilessly and yet still, his hesitation to sit on them lingers. He has far too much room for contemplation when he’s sober, this he already knows, but he forces himself to sit down on them anyway, knees drawn to his chest as his back rests against the couch.

He’d set aside his grocery items, carefully, methodically placed in his cupboards and fridge before beginning his cleaning routine. It usually takes a couple of hours, but Hyunjin doesn’t mind. He prefers his apartment to be gleaming and spotless.

It’s exhausting at times, mostly because he feels as if there’s a constant sheet of fatigue straining him from the inside but he knows far too well by now that leaving it untouched only does irreparable damage to his withering mind.

So, he’d scrubbed and scrubbed and then he’d scrubbed himself, as always, disgruntled and disappointed that he would only be able to take two showers before work and not three. It messes things up. He’d spent too long at that bull-man’s apartment.

It’s okay, he tells himself. It’s okay. Nothing bad will happen just because he took two showers instead of three. It’s okay. He could take one now, he knows he could, but his showers are anything but quick and if he doesn’t do them right, he doesn’t see the point in doing them at all. Besides, he needs to eat something before work anyway. A dull dusk begins to spread out from outside, the boundless lights illuminating the sleepless city before him as he looks out his window. The sun will set soon and then he’ll need to get going.

So he sighs, watching an old cartoon as he nibbles contentedly on a fudgesicle he’d just bought. They’re his favorite, a familiar token from his childhood where only icy drops of syrupy sweetness could cure the pounding, impenetrable undulates of heat. He recognizes the pictures on his screen vaguely, the displeased figure of Daffy Duck contorting in anger at something ridiculous once again. He doesn’t find them as funny as when he was a child. Still, he watches them.

Mindful of the clock, tick tock tick tock, as it nears his true witching hours, he turns the TV off and starts getting ready, treading into his bedroom as he filters through his clothing. Most of the stuff he needs is already at the club in his dressing room, piles of makeup and hangers of leather, lace and all things unchaste ready for the taking.

Still, he had forgotten to bring a change of clothes for last night and it had not been particularly fun walking back home at 4AM in nothing but knee-high stockings, a short ruffled schoolgirl skirt and a thin coat to cover his laced crop top. It was Las Vegas nonetheless, people didn’t exactly get miffed over his appearance but he hadn’t wanted to draw attention from a certain someone that had been stalking him at the club for weeks now.

Only a few days ago Hyunjin swore he had seen him follow him all the way home, clearly deciding that being banned from the club after daily harassment would not be enough to stop his sick desires in getting close to him.

Nothing had happened, thankfully but Hyunjin wouldn’t be giving him an open invitation to maul him in some alleyway this night. He stuffed some sweat clothes into his gym bag, grabbing a few makeup brushes and eyeliner along with him too. Just in case.

The path down to the Strip was a short one, his apartment complex thankfully only a few blocks away. He lights a cigarette as he walks past flashing bulbs of electrifying light, bedazzled, hypnotizing billboards and rhinestone-slathered showgirls filtering in and out of casinos like continuous streams of foaming water popping against the shore. The lack of a star-splattered sky due to light pollution swathes itself like a hot draping blanket of darkness, velvety and thick as he makes his way down to the club, mind whirring with the first genuine breaths of the day.

The club is large and unmissable, nestled lethally and seductively between a cabaret theatre and a casino resort expanding itself in tenfold along the curving path leading up to bigger, famous, household name hotels. There are multiple video screens displayed across the building, whirring and mesmerizing you like billboards as their film continues to repeat their now considered ’iconic’ photoshoot over and over again.

Hyunjin stares at himself in a clear-cut black and white, like the ads luxury fashion houses play in their display windows, his dark, silken hair tousled and wild as his kohl-lined eyes gaze sharply into the camera, biting seductively down onto the handle of the whip in his mouth.

The screen flickers again, his body changing positions as it projects down to his low-risen leather pants, his fingers tugging at the hem as if to tease, lower and lower and lower and fuck, the camera cuts back up to his face again, a smirking and lustful glint shimmering in his eyes. He looks good as shit. Hyunjin grins as his name illuminates at the bottom of the screen as if to introduce him to the masses, TIGER LILY swimming in front of the white back drop as he blows the camera a flirtatious kiss.

The screen cuts off, begins a new sequence introducing another dancer, - FAWN - Felix’s innocent, pure wide eyes blinking demurely up at the camera. Hyunjin only shakes his head at the dramatic display, though Jinyoung’s idea to market them - his top three performers - instead of the club’s services themselves had made their profits skyrocket in the last two years.

Jinyoung liked to label himself an entrepreneur, considering his strip club to be of the outskirts of fine, high-end art. Hyunjin hated admitting he was right, mostly because Jinyoung was a sleazy business owner before anything else but careful, intricate design mimicking the beauty of Ancient Egypt and the blend between mythological and hyper-futuristic had certainly garnered a name for their club.

It had transformed, birthed from a hollow cocoon into a wondrous butterfly thanks to Jinyoung’s innovations and them of course - mostly him, Hyunjin thinks. Hyunjin’s gaze flickers back to the letter-blocked name glittering inescapably above the front door, decorative borders of gold beetles and pitch black cats encircling the letters spelling CLEOPATRA’S as men filter in and out beneath it. There’s a long line waiting to get in. There always is.

Cleopatra’s had become a staple of high-end Las Vegas strip clubs, sought after by clientele ranging from bachelor parties ready to blow their gambling savings away to successful businessmen with suits and watches Hyunjin could only dream of being able to pronounce. The large nuances of their customers were what kept the job interesting, diverging from the same lowlife men he used to get at the seedy, cheap club with signs that were falling apart where he worked at before he met Jinyoung and moved to Nevada.

Hyunjin walks quickly into a small sliver that separates the club from the casino and makes his way into the backdoor for employees, the pounding thud of a music only walls away reverberating through his head the moment he closes the door behind him. The back entrance isn’t anything special, but Hyunjin trudges up the staircase that greets him to where their backstage rooms are all scattered next to each other, walking quickly up to the one with his stage name on it.

Not all of the dancers have their own vanity rooms, most of them not permanently employed by Jinyoung like he and a select few others are, having to use the common, much less private dressing rooms instead. He’s grateful for his own space, slinking into it and setting down his gym bag as he starts getting undressed.

He’s early, like usual but it helps settle his nerves, for once in an element he dominates completely. And of course, for the free coke Jinyoung will offer him in approximately half an hour.

Hyunjin hangs his clothes carefully into his closet, draping a silk robe across himself as he starts moisturizing his face in front of his vanity mirror, rubbing lotion across his chest and collarbones as he goes over his routine in his head over and over again. He’ll do his Medusa routine for his main stage tonight, the destructive seduction of a scorned, yet still equally as beautiful Medusa luring the watchers to his captivity.

He starts applying his makeup carefully, darkly outlining his eyes to sharpen them even further when a soft knock interrupts his thoughts. Hyunjin grins quietly to himself. Maybe Jinyoung is early.

His disappointment rests groaningly from its slumber as the deadpanned gaze of Minho stares him blankly in the eyes as soon as he opens the door. Hyunjin quenches his desire to roll his eyes so far to the back of his head that they threaten to implode. “What do you want?”

Minho does, actually, roll his eyes and mirrors the haughty hand Hyunjin has placed on his hip as he stares him down expectantly. “Always so charming.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Minho ignores him, stepping promptly into his dressing room before Hyunjin slams the door shut. Interactions with Minho are hardly anything short of pleasant, the constant, disgruntled pinch of his nose as if breathing the same air as Hyunjin might contaminate him always making his skull pound in vexation. Minho knows exactly how to get under his skin, venomous words and hurling insults bubbling beneath his flesh like kernels just waiting to explode and seep their own fury straight into him.

Hyunjin flurries over to his bag and reaches for his packet of cigarettes, lighting the Marlboro as soon as he can. He technically isn’t supposed to smoke inside, but whatever. He doesn’t care. His inescapable Minho-induced migraine will do nothing to help his performance.

“There are some potential investors coming tonight,” Minho states blankly, completely unfazed by the smoke filtering between the two of them. “Jinyoung wants us to impress them.”

Hyunjin looks him subtly up and down, eyes narrowing at the stained college sweater he definitely had not gone to and the oversized sweatpants pooling around his ankles. Minho never got ready until last minute, clocking in and out with the convictions of someone half-minded and unattached.

He was still one of the best performers, competing with Felix every month to get the number two spot. After him. Hyunjin grins sweetly, feigning kindness. “Great. You can leave now.”

Minho rolls his eyes yet again, scanning around the room rapidly as if the gleaming mirror and carefully categorized makeup boxes were completely unnecessary. “Together. You know what that means?”

Hyunjin grits his teeth, nerves rattled like always. “Yes Minho, I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Really?” Minho’s eyebrows raise needlessly high. “That’s news to me.”

“We'll just do what we always do, why did you need to come in here anyway?” Hyunjin sighs, arms crossing together as he cocks his head to the side. “Or did you want some pointers maybe?”

Minho sneers, pretty face contorting into something marred and disgusted. He steps closer to him, their bodies only inches apart as Minho’s voice lowers threateningly. Hyunjin is certain Minho is probably the most clinically insane person at the club, but he isn’t scared. He’s met worse. It’s almost laughable, actually.

“I came because I wanted to let you know that you’re not pulling that same shit you did last time when you nearly stole all my fucking tips!” Minho spits out the last words, droplets hitting his face gratingly. Hyunjin's hand itches to douse himself in soap and water but he ignores it, chest rippling in rage as he glares back.

“It’s not my fault they liked me better than you.” He smiles innocently, his head tilting back as he relishes in their height differences for a short, illustrious moment. “Thought you would’ve been used to that by now.”

Minho scoffs, the lack of distance between them making his breath unfurl like small whispers of loathing upon his face. “Please,” He exhales, unperturbed from the smoke Hyunjin blows from his cigarette. “Everyone knows you’re only the top performer ‘cause you keep yourself loose like a whore for Jinyoung to use.”

Hyunjin hollows his cheeks as his tongue clicks against it, eyes never once leaving the dull, spiteful brown eyes in front of him as he takes another drag. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Right. Like I’d ever let that man touch me.”

“I’m sure you’ve had worse touch you-“

“Not for free.” Minho lets a sickening, almost nauseating smile encompass him. “Some people are only sluts for the money, whilst others…” He looks him up and down, eyes clouded with something blackened and revolted. Hyunjin can feel his stomach rumble in fury. “Guess maybe you were just born that way.”

The comment billows against his cratered marrow, his gut clenching uncomfortably as he feels his skin begin to foam, deep-seated layers of grime caressing his bones like an illness he’d spent his entire life trying to run from. He really should have had that third shower.

“Didn’t your mother used to pimp you out for crack?” Hyunjin stares at him candied and nice as Minho’s face twists into something momentarily aggrieved, muscles twitching in a menacing silence as if he had not expected that comment, his brow furrowing and jaw hardening indignantly as each second passes.

Clearly he’d struck a nerve Minho probably thought Hyunjin was incapable of locating. Truth be told Hyunjin doesn’t particularly remember what Jinyoung had told him about Minho that one night they were both high out of their minds, although he knew it was something of the sort.

Minho grumbles something disdainful under his breath before forcibly brushing his shoulder against his own and heading adamantly toward his vanity desk, pulling out the drawer so harshly it almost threatens to shake loose.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hyunjin shouts, walking briskly toward him as he watches indignantly Minho filter and rumble through all his very carefully placed, carefully organized stuff! “Stop it!”

His mind starts panicking as Minho begins throwing out items he clearly isn’t looking for onto the floor, his stomach spiking in anxiety. Now he had to clean everything that had touched his floor and he didn’t have time for that, fuck, fuck, fuck! Hyunjin grips his shoulder tightly in an attempt to push him away but Minho spins around gleefully, hand clutching onto something pink and long and not at all something he should be touching!

“Found it,” Minho says, dangling his vibrator mockingly in front of him before turning around and pocketing the remote controller it belonged to. “Now you won’t be using it like last time.”

“What the fuck?”

“The game’s not fair when you decide to invent your own fucking rules,” Minho spits. “You betrayed me and our shitty go-to routine and used this instead to one up me? Fuck you Hwang. I’m taking this with me.” Minho opens the door so abruptly Hyunjin barely has time to react to the shocked face on the other side staring at them both, clearly having been just about to knock and was instead almost wiped out on his own feet from nearly crashing into Minho.

Minho’s expression diminishes into his usual blank and indifferent one as he gives Hyunjin a knowing look before walking away briskly, Jinyoung’s puzzled gaze staring into him lopsidedly.

Hyunjin looks down to his lip-glosses and makeup brushes scattered across the floor, his chest constricting tightly and painfully. His hold against his cigarette sharpens momentarily before he grabs one of the napkins by his desk, crushes it into the softness and throws it into his own trash can. Jinyoung only sighs, clearly already more than used to Minho and his constant turbulent disagreements.

Hyunjin lets his gaze sear itself into Jinyoung’s for a second, takes in the barely visible lines on his forehead and the sturdy, subtle clenching of his jaw in that hardened, antipathic masculinity he so often bears. He looks good for a man nearing his forties, well-built and honed with years and years of a business that lingers only in the shadows.

Hyunjin had met Jinyoung only three years ago in the whiskey-scented corners of the old strip club he used to work at back in a sweltering Arizona, the low-hanging lights dim and casting a mystifying darkness upon his pole-twisting body that, according to Jinyoung, had only dulled him. It didn’t do his beauty justice, he’d said. He deserved some place better, a stage where he could truly shine.

Tiger Lily had agreed, although that had not been his name back then. Dove. A terrible, wretched name really, one that always made his insides prickle as if being stabbed by a hundred blunted needles whenever he heard it called out.

He didn’t know why he had chosen it, had not been able to truly recognize himself as anything else. He didn’t like to think about it. But the Dove had been eager, almost deterioratingly so, to break free from the rusty confines of his decaying cage, nights endless and swathing in the faceless hoards of men whose hands were anything but gentle and mouths watered from vulgarities.

Jinyoung had met him coincidentally, enthralled, hypnotized by his performance. Hyunjin understood him all too well. He’d probably be spellbound too, if he were someone else.

And so like the continuous tidal waves of tumultuous shores, he had come every week to visit him, talk to him, buy him drinks. Snort pretty white lines off of his stomach. Jinyoung was like a burst of a hot, volcanic fire in an otherwise monotonous, sand-colored neighborhood of drifters, someone with youth, passion, vigor born from greatness and not of red, sizzling hot blood.

When he offered him a job - a brand new strip club in the heart of Las Vegas, a guaranteed success - the dove had accepted almost immediately, eager and thirsty to spread its wings upon skies previously unexplored.

Besides, it was nice leaving the gritty splendor of Arizona. The sun always hung too low there, too low and too hot, like its breaths could turn him to cinders if it wanted to. Not that Nevada was anything different really, but it was. It was and Hyunjin was anything but homebound.

In the diamond-cut hollows of Sin City, he had decided to strip himself of his wings and feathers, slaughtering that godless dove with one excruciating pinch of his finger and hearty determination. He needed someone new, a rebirth. Resurrection, perhaps. Not of a creature, but of something greater, more beautiful, gentle, delicate - something he could smolder with his own teeth.

The Tiger Lily represents forgiveness. Perfect for him, really. Begging for absolution as he commits sin after sin through the binding tunnels of a swathing night. Well, Hyunjin loves a good irony.

He’d stayed in the upper apartment where Jinyoung lived as finishing building touches were completed, eager and ready to make some decent money for once in his life. Felix, another stray he seemed to have picked up God knows where - Hyunjin doesn’t remember asking - was also staying.

It was strange, really but Hyunjin had had weirder living arrangements. As soon as the club opened, its innovative design and talented dancers had surged it through the roof, marking it a sought-after, must experience Vegas strip club.

For the first time in his entire life, Hyunjin was practically swimming in money. Well, maybe not swimming. But money was no longer a struggle, no longer something that kept him awake and grating until he collapsed from a strenuous lack of sleep. To him, that was practically the same.

The tips were good in the beginning, a lot higher than he had anticipated but a year into the business and he was earning more than he ever could have imagined. He bought an apartment not far off, drifting from the luxurious but big and expensive nonetheless, and everything he could only have dreamt of even being allowed inside just a couple of years ago.

“I need to talk to you.”

Hyunjin’s head pounds at the gravity with which Jinyoung speaks, his tone clearly awaiting something of great exhaustion by the heaviness in which his head is tilted to the side. God, fucking damnit. All he wants is the fucking coke, not a pep talk.

“If this is about Minho and those investors, then forget it. He already spoke to me.”

Jinyoung closes the door gently behind him, treading toward where Hyunjin stands by the vanity desk with languid, weary steps as if he’s some rattled feline with bared teeth ready to pounce. Jinyoung knows him too well. Or at least the way his body reacts. His chest flares as he thinks about it.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about that creep stalking you.” Jinyoung leans in closely, the deep fragrance of woody accord and narcissus flower wafting straight into Hyunjin’s face as he leans in. Jinyoung always wore an obnoxious amount of cologne. He could never figure out if it drove him crazy with fury or with greed. “I found a solution.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, the cavernous sense of anxiety burrowing into him the longer he’s reminded of the dust-stained makeup items scattered all across his floorboards. Either he needs to clean them up or he needs the coke now!

“What?” He deadpans, staring directly into Jinyoung’s unusually hardened eyes. God. This wasn’t going at all how he’d hoped it would.

“I hired a bodyguard,” Jinyoung says simply, as if it’s obvious. Hyunjin blinks at him rapidly. “A personal one, for you.”

“What?!” He screeches, his arms throwing themselves in the air wildly before he forces them down, crossing each other. His throat feels clogged, annoyance seeping into his skin at the overbearing, stupid look on Jinyoung’s face.

“You need extra protection Hyunjin. As the owner of this club I can’t be responsible for something happening to you!”

“But-”

Jinyoung interrupts him, air of someone far too busy for the dawdling complaints of a rotten, rotten child. “Changbin has good credentials, it’s just a part-time job-”

“I don’t need a babysitter! I’m not a kid!” Hyunjin’s head spins, the wide, extending walls of his dressing room shrinking with each passing second, enclosing him in a puny, sinking quicksand of a festering nest.

“Changbin is not a babysitter Hyunjin, he’s a bodyguard,” Jinyoung stresses, lines on his forehead deepening as his mouth tilts downward. “It’s just an extra precaution, okay? God, why do you always have to make things so difficult.”

“I don’t need him, I’m fine,” He grits out, the muscles in his jaw clenching viciously.

His little stalker was hardly a problem. He’d dealt with more than his fair share of pathetic, desperate virgins with unhealthy obsessions over sex workers. He didn’t need some big-boned, brain dead heap of muscles and sharpened glares to trail after him while he tried to work!

“Felix told me that just two days ago you said that guy was following you home from the club!”

That fucking bitch. Hyunjin makes a mental note to yell at Felix later. “Yeah and nothing happened, did it? I can handle some degenerate little stalker okay, I’ve handled worse.”

Jinyoung groans, rubbing his hands across his face as he lets out a deep sigh. “Jesus Christ, you are such a piece of work. This is my club and you will do as I say. It’s for your protection.”

Hyunjin’s stance grows rigid, spine straightening itself as his hands ball up into thrusting fists toward the floor. Petulant, fence-strung child unable to run into traffic. “He’s just gonna hover around and mess up my performances, is that what you want?”

Jinyoung only deadpans, harsh stare glaring into him for an uncomfortable amount of passing seconds. Hyunjin’s scowl never withers, far too used to being reprimanded by now. He doesn’t care. The club would go to shit without him anyway.

“Are you telling me you’re not professional enough to let someone watch you perform undisturbed?” Jinyoung gives him a pointed look, eyebrow raised condescendingly. “That’s your entire fucking job Hyunjin, don’t give me that bullshit.”

Hyunjin ignores his question, silken threads of his robe clinging like hot, sticky glue against his skin. He wants to sear it off. “It’s a waste of money Jinyoung! I can handle myself!”

“You’re my top money maker, so no. It’s not a waste.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at the adamant expression plastered across the lines of Jinyoung’s face, always so determined, always the businessman. He’d worn the same expression when he decided to change the line-ups last minute, eyes hardened just as viciously when he tossed one of his outfits - too revealing, he’d said - into the trash can and lips sloped downward in that same harrowing curve when he realized there was no way in fucking hell Hyunjin would ever perform sober. He knows it’s a lost battle already. Jinyoung always gets his way.

“He’s only going to be here a few days a week anyway, don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m not-” Hyunjin starts, the familiar scratchy chest-bundled feeling making him lightheaded.

“Shh!” Jinyoung pinches his fingers together and flicks them over his own lips in a zip-it motion. “I’m done with this discussion.”

“But-”

Calling after him is fruitless, Hyunjin knows it all too well. He thinks the only person he’s ever met more stubborn than Jinyoung would be his mother. And himself. He wants to shudder just thinking about it, eyes trailing Jinyoung’s retreating body with a desperate, gleaming swell he would rather pluck from their sockets than let wash over him again.

“Done!” Jinyoung shouts, hand already gripping the rough handle of the door in the first attempt at turning it, broad back and heavy-hanging head outspread like a scale-winged insect against the darkened hue of his wallpaper.

Hyunjin almost screams as he realizes his hands are empty from raptures and nose clean from little pinpricks of snow. Jinyoung knows he can’t go on sober, he won’t.

Before he can start yelling hysterically at him to come back, Jinyoung twists his body toward him right before he’s about to leave, hands digging through his pocket as if seemingly just having remembered something of great importance. He fishes forward a small white packet, seeds of goodness swirling around before tossing it to Hyunjin who catches it eagerly, claw so tight he thinks he might start growing talons to tear it apart. Jinyoung only shoots him one last look, one he simultaneously cannot read but understands all at the same time.

“And he’s starting today, so play fucking nice for once!” Jinyoung gives him his last withering words to fester in before he shuts the door behind him, leaving him in a wake of empty, hollowed silence that practically fumes from his own fury.

Hyunjin bristles as he tries to shake it off, hands twitching as he starts unzipping the little packet and spreading the coke out in thin, nice lines on his vanity desk.

He doesn’t bother cleaning up the products scattered on the floor, knows full well that as soon as his head starts to swivel in that all too familiar high, he won’t care anymore. Desperate, yearning, like some sickened starved animal, his head bows itself immediately toward the white lines, finger pressed against one side of his nostrils as the other burns deliciously.

There’s no beauty in the way he snorts coke, jarring, jagged edges unfurling within him as it slithers and wraps itself around his mind. Hyunjin isn’t pretty then, he thinks, isn’t sexy, charming, alluring, isn’t anything of the things he’s supposed to be despite having had years to hone his own grace, no - he’s starved. He’s a starved, starved man and his flesh will be but remnants of something horrid lest he give in, lest he empty and pour his soul into that one single action, that simple, blasphemous snorting of lines as it turns him magnificent and pearly and into something inhuman.

No, he isn’t beautiful when he does it, isn’t beautiful before either - nervous, wired and strung tight like cogs in an old, decaying clock as it ticks back and forth, back and forth. He needs to scrub, scrub, scrub until he’s certain there’s something bleeding, be it his mind or his skin.

But now, with the lining of sweet metamorphosis, he becomes the godly petals of the tiger lily. Confident. Free. Desirable. Hyunjin can’t wait to crush the flower with his own heels as soon as he’s on that stage.

It doesn’t matter, now. If things are in ruin. He’s okay with it. And so he dresses himself with a gentle lull in his neck and hum through his lips, finishes applying his makeup as precisely as he can and forgoes any sort of washing of floor-ridden products. It’s okay. He doesn’t mind it.

He’s sure if this were any other type of job, he would be deemed unprofessional for being high during the remainder of his shift, which is exactly why he can’t ever imagine himself in any other place. Jinyoung knows he only functions in the way he wants him to - sweaty, toned, bared strings of a diamond to salivate for - when he’s hopped up on something, anything really but coke is what he manages the best.

It turns him into something breathtaking, hatching from his rotten pupa to spread his wings in what can only be described as otherworldly. The Tiger Lily is not human nor flower, but something mythical, fantastical. Wondrous showers of shimmers, something just beyond your reach. Impossible to catch.

Yes, now, dilated pupils and a buzzing, pounding thrill in his bones, he becomes beautiful. And so he finishes fixing his hair, long silky black strands falling gracefully just above his shoulders. He’d been wanting to dye it for months now, smoothened blackness reminding him too much of something he’d rather just forget.

It doesn’t matter now, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter. Grinning to himself in the mirror, he applies the last touch of eyeliner, his eyes cloudy and darkened and ready for the harsh glare of the spotlight before leaving his dressing room without a single thought in his head.

This is what he likes the most, he decides, about those pretty white lines. When untouched from pearls of ecstasy, his mind is anything but pacified, bouncing off of the walls until they tumble into the dark spirals of the night. Drugged, buzzed - his brain tunnels into himself, creating a narrow slope of light in which to focus on. He’s excited, lips numb and eyes hazy. He fucking loves it.

He passes the common dressing rooms with the precise clicking of his heels, long leather boots strapping around his legs as he approaches the staircase leading down to the club. His performance starts soon, can already feel the invigorating thrum course through his veins the moment he steps down.

He passes a few of the other dancers, mind ignoring them completely as he makes his way behind the curtains to the main stage, propping his leg up on one of the railings and stretching it contentedly.

He’s the main act, - as much as Felix and Minho would like to think otherwise - most of the people there come for him. Hyunjin doesn’t blame them, especially with the Medusa performance he’s been cultivating for the last few months, tight black corset crystallized with twisting diamond snakes cinching his waist, a beaded headpiece with small shining rhinestones dipping like strands of silver against his hair and glossy, pouty lips - he knows he looks sinfully holy. Something of the Ancient Greek gods. A nymph, a pearl of foam from an old, marble bathhouse.

Bridal, almost if not for how laughable such a sentiment would be in the hollowed whispers of godless stage lights. But no, the virginal, pure act is not something he’s ever used, too drenched in black eyeliner, heavy makeup and hooded gazes to make it believable. Besides. He’ll leave that to Felix.

Hyunjin scans the backstage briefly, hands thrumming against the railing he’s leaning against in an incessant inability to stand still. Usually Jinyoung would never pass up the opportunity to grab at him right before his stage, sneaking hands touching as they please in whatever irresistible get up Hyunjin adorns himself in that very night.

Now he’s nowhere to be found, probably too disgruntled from their previous argument. Hyunjin only cracks his neck as he waits for the announcer to call his name. He really could care less.

At last, after far too many minutes of jumping restlessly all over the place, he hears his stage name being introduced, a low sultry voice calling for the Tiger Lily to unfurl its petals.

Hyunjin grins, leaping from the railing as he strolls toward the stage, nimble fingers resisting the urge to rip apart the curtains with all the energy flowing through him.

Sometimes it gets the best of him, - the drugs - turns him erratic and billowing with far too many emotions for others to handle but Hyunjin holds it back this time, careful and slowly like he’s supposed to. Seduction is nothing without control.

He parts the velvet curtains teasingly as the familiar bass-line of his song starts playing and this is where he hardly has to think at all, moving like a slinking cat across the stage as a playful smirk becomes him. It’s too easy. Always too easy.

When the lights flicker their daunting redness upon him and the old lines of familiar faces blur together in the darkness that comes with being a watcher, he feels, for one skin-prickling moment, utterly untouchable.

His transformation was never one of a Blue Clipper, his body did not writhe and twist in the metamorphosis that occurred backstage with the honoring of white lines - Sudden, magnificent. Euphoria. Instead it was slow and firm and bound entirely by the muscles of every bodily crevice yearning to stretch and unfurl itself from all the years of being coiled too tight.

Like the slow ticking of a clock, he feels his body begin to move, the extending of his finger pulling together the rest of his limbs as he dances and spins himself to the pole in the middle. He knew his dancing is not what the watchers came for, but is sure that it is what made them stay.

Perhaps if his growing grin was not sinful in nature, if he did not bend over salaciously and graze his fingers along the hem of his underwear before tugging it down as he winked to the blackness, perhaps then he could convince himself that his talent for dancing was God given. People whistle and holler, dollar bills flooding the stage floor. He blows some poor sucker a kiss as he grabs the cash and stuffs it in his boot. Wedding rings. Everywhere. His smile grows wider. There had never been anything God given in the places he called home.

And so he undoes the strings tying his corset together in a sensual whisking of his fingers, slowly and teasingly as if it causes him a great strain. Hyunjin drags it out, an expert by now at making the crowd lose their minds and then - waiting, waiting, waiting - it’s off, falling gracefully to the stage floor as he bends down to his knees, crawling seductively away from the pole and to the edge of the stage.

The yells and whistles resound almost like background noise by now, his bare torso stretching itself in every indecent manner he can possibly think of, the print of his tattoo swirling from his waist and dipping into his hip enticingly. He’s wearing only a small pair of black shorts, the fabric clinging to his skin in a way that leaves little to the imagination. His bejeweled headpiece makes it all feel more artistic anyway.

Not that he really cares, he thinks, as he runs his fingers teasingly up and down his chest. He feels too good to care about anything, lips stretching into a sinful smirk as he extends himself out into the crowd to reach for the money. He recognizes a few of his regulars - eyes all sparkly and clouded like born from a wretched hypnosis - and luckily his little stalker is nowhere to be seen.

Hyunjin stands languidly back up again, ready to slink back onto the pole to complete his routine as the music starts to change when he catches sight of a shadowed man by the very edge of the stage, back turned to him, gazing forward into the crowd.

Hyunjin’s stomach sours immediately, the tight-fitted black shirt and matching pants a clear indicator of who this guy was. He can’t remember the name Jinyoung had told him, but his eyes sharpen like that of an eagle right away. He doesn’t have time to think about it. He has to be professional, gripping onto the pole with a fake, nauseating smile as he twists himself back up.

Usually, because his routines have developed a lot from the simple twirls he’d done early on, Hyunjin has to pay attention to what he’s doing. There’s a fine line he’s mastered between gauging the way his own body moves and making sure his twists are graceful - God forbid he should fall - and still engaging with the audience, letting his hooded eyes stare into a smolder of blackness like he wants it to devour him whole.

Maybe he does, actually, wish for it to devour him but he performs like he was given birth on that very stage every damn night. He’s ruthless, sharp-cut and precise. Alluring, honeyed, glimmering like the crystals dangling from his head.

So why is it that he feels a deep, unsettling feeling in his chest as if there’s something coming loose, something horrid and furious bubbling inside of him as he tries not to stare at that stupid, fucking bodyguard.

He catches sight of his side profile the few moments he decides to scan the far right of the crowd, sharp-bridged nose and thick, low-set eyebrows furrowed as if molded from stone. It infuriates him for some reason, that he refuses to look at him.

Sure, Hyunjin gets it, he’s supposed to be looking out for creeps. He hooks the pole in the alcove of his inner knee, twisting his body so that he’s hanging from his legs upside down. It’s still fucking rude for some reason, though he doesn’t know exactly why. He stretches his torso upward, switching his position as his body climbs higher up the pole, legs rotating around it a bit too fast.

He’s supposed to be going slow, sensual. Seductive. Fuck. He hates messing up, even more so when his chest can’t stop pulsating in vicious beats of anger and his skin burns as if about to come peeling right off.

He flashes another look toward the bodyguard, mind seething as he still only stares out into the crowd. He thinks of the man from the grocery store - flesh and soul simply too good for the dirtied backs of his own tainted skin. Too pure, too clean for someone like him, someone born rotten in the sand-colored hues of a town on fire.

Hyunjin slinks down from the pole, deciding to simply freestyle the last bit as his hands are too shaky to grip onto the steel any longer. He must be coming down from his high already, cannot begin to fathom how his anger had overcome him so abruptly, so jarringly from something as stupid as a man he’d never even in his dreams bother wasting time on.

He shakes it off, smoothening his hands across his ink-soiled splatter of skin, trailing along the edges of the winged kaleidoscope as he drops to his knees and finishes his dance routine.

On the ground, legs flying and crossing over each other into the air, extending and stretching until he’s almost into a split, back arching in feigned pleasure as his expression contorts salaciously and then he hears the familiar droning of his song coming to its end - where he usually would do a sharp drop from the top of his pole to the bottom - and twists his legs beneath his knees and drops his back in a desperate, yearning manner toward the floor as if he’d just let go of some rope, of some hopeless string of life tying him to the earth.

Now he’s falling, deep and plunging as Medusa chooses death over her own wicked, stone-cut fate and then the lights black out, collective whistles and applauses filling the darkness as Hyunjin crawls indiscreetly backstage again.

He’s exhausted, more than usual and his shift had only just started, face twisting into a scowl the minute he’s no longer branded by any lights. He needs to go back to his dressing room and snort another line before he combusts from the scratchy feeling tearing him apart.

Felix is there waiting for him, white-laced lingerie glimmering against his tanned skin as he looks up at him confusedly, big eyes pointed in concern at his very blatantly sour expression.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks, adjusting his straps as he gets ready to go on. He hates that fucking look he gives him, like he’s not the one that had snitched to Jinyoung about his stalker.

“I’m fine!” Hyunjin snaps, grumbling under his breath as he shoves his way forward, not bothering to listen to the remnants of Felix’s obvious confusion.

He needs to get back, needs to get back now, before he starts hyperventilating and bleeding from his nose like some child. Shit. Usually he managed to keep his levels consistent throughout his shifts - dance, another line of coke, striptease, another line of coke, private rooms, lap dances, another line of coke, smaller stages, private rooms again, another line of coke and so on and so on until he finally got home and got to crash in peace.

Everything’s going wrong today, just slightly behind like that delayed ticking of the clock. It’s because he only took two showers. That’s why he’s angry for no reason, why he messed up his routine, why he’s coming down far earlier than he usually does. He didn’t shower three times like he was supposed to and now things aren’t right.

That’s ridiculous, he tells himself as he starts heading toward the staircase, legs flying at a tremendous speed until he almost crashes into someone appearing out of nowhere, sturdy chest making him tumble backward and come to an abrupt halt.

Hyunjin blinks, gaze hardening as his vision narrows into his sudden blockade. His throat lodges itself with something hot and furious as he recognizes who it is.

“Shit, sorry,” The man says, looking genuinely apologetic. His t-shirt is tight against his skin, muscled arms littered with an array of tattoos Hyunjin hadn’t noticed from the stage. “You’re Tiger Lily, right?”

Hyunjin only crosses his arms, neck bending in a slight nod as he purses his lips. He really isn’t in the mood for this. The man smiles at his indifference.

“I’m Changbin,” He says, steely expression softening just a little. He’s oddly short for a bodyguard, Hyunjin thinks. “I’m sure Jinyoung already told you about-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyunjin cuts him off, shouldering his way forward as he starts walking toward the staircase. Changbin seems momentarily confused, but follows him nonetheless as he begins his ascent upward.

“Hold on,” He says and Hyunjin spins around, hands gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white.

There’s something soft and bundled in Changbin’s clutch, his arm extending itself toward him. “I got you a robe. Thought you might want to cover up.”

Hyunjin has half a mind to roll his eyes, but he lets a smug little smirk encompass him instead. He tilts his head slightly, swallowing his rage. “You don’t like the view?”

Changbin’s gaze remains frustratingly trained upon his eyes, as if refusing to let it wander down even just to linger upon his exposed collarbones. It’s clear he’s one of those types priding themselves in their professionalism. Hyunjin almost scoffs out loud.

“I like your headpiece,” Is all he says as Hyunjin snatches the robe from him and drapes it across his torso. “It’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” He utters, voice hollow and empty and he spins back around, steps brisk and determined as he makes his way to the second floor. He’s almost in his dressing room, nose practically itching from their bareness.

Hyunjin can feel him, like a prolonged sliver of shadow, follow him into the corridor. His head prickles with irritation, small jabs of punctures filling up his mind in a dull, terrible ache.

“Wait, can we talk-”

“Listen here Changmin-” Hyunjin halts as he arrives at his door, body twisting itself viciously to point at the dark-haired man in front of him, finger pointing accusingly into his stupid, punchable face.

“It’s Changbin-”

“I don’t care what Jinyoung told you to do, okay?” His eyes narrow like sharpened slits of a carefully serrated knife. “I don’t need your protection, I don’t need your kindness and I definitely do not need you to follow me around like some sick little puppy. Got it?”

Changbin only stares at him, eyebrows raised incredulously as if witnessing something pitiful and irrational, something beneath him. The corner of his mouth etches up into a small, disbelieving smirk.

“Wow,” He says, letting out an airy, humorless laugh. Hyunjin wants to fucking scream. “Jinyoung warned me you were kind of a brat, but I honestly thought he was just exaggerating a little.”

“Excuse me?” Hyunjin’s eyes narrow even further, piercing into him with all the venom he can muster. It’s surprisingly easy now that his soul has become unclogged from the goodness of sweet, white powder. Changbin seems unfazed, however.

“I’m just trying to introduce myself, you know, since I’m your personal bodyguard,” Changbin says it as if it’s obvious, smirk fading only slightly. “What’s your problem, man?”

Hyunjin’s irises practically pop out of their sockets, jaw hardening so tightly his teeth start grating against each other. “My problem, man, is that I don’t need a bodyguard. I can take care of myself.”

The weary look upon Changbin’s face placates itself just a little, his raised shoulders lowering as he takes a step forward, voice deep and soothing as if attempting to console some crazed, hysterical child not getting what he wants. Hyunjin wants to kick him in the shins.

“Look, I don’t doubt you can take care of yourself, but from what I’ve heard you definitely should have some type of protection. Jinyoung made the right decision, I mean that guy stalking you sounds like a real creep.”

“Guess you’d know, huh.”

“What?” Changbin raises an eyebrow at him, pacified expression withering immediately.

“Sounds to me like you’re just like him, trailing after me when I clearly don’t want to talk to you.”

Hyunjin knows it’s different, of course he does but he can’t be fucking bothered to think twice about what he’s saying when his tongue is scorching from the unbearable heat of Nevada deserts. He thinks he might start thrashing on the ground and clawing at the floorboards if this man doesn’t leave him alone soon.

“Okay, wow.” Changbin seems slightly angry now, the muscles in his jaw tensing discreetly below the low-lit light of the hallway. Good, Hyunjin thinks. “Well, you’re not getting rid of me that easily princess. It’s my job.”

Hyunjin’s chest flares, eye twitching as he crosses his arms indignantly. “What did you just fucking call me?”

“I called you princess because you seem like a spoiled little princess who thinks they’re above the rest of us commoners just ‘cause you’re in the spotlight,” Changbin spits, eyebrows furrowing even more, the conviction with which he speaks sharp and loud in remnants of a distilled, bass infused silence. “I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not letting you or anyone else screw up my job.”

“You don’t know fucking shit about me,” Hyunjin grits out, gripping the door handle tightly before swinging it open and slamming it promptly shut in his face.

Hyunjin thinks his mind is fuming like never before, chest heaving unsteadily up and down as he nearly tears the little plastic packet in half before lining up the powder on his desk again, separating the lines with his credit card as he leans down.

It burns, but only slightly so, relief washing over him in tidal waves as his tensed muscles fall to a buzzing relaxation. He exhales contentedly, closing his eyes and leaning backward as if testing his own balance as he extends his arms, pushing out his chest as he lets it fall to a gentle rhythm of ease. He imagines his arms sprouting scales of a deep black and yellow, fluttering to that of the docile, freed Swallowtail as he ripples his way out the window and into the deep, pulsating vibrations of the night.

A comfortable swell of something giddy, something that tickles within him settles in his chest and he flings the robe draping his torso onto the floor, searching absentmindedly for a laced top exposing his stomach to match with his small, black shorts.

On his knees, fingers fumbling through one of his gym bags, Hyunjin preens against the soft lighting bouncing off his hair, his eyes shutting closed as a small whine threatens to spill from his tongue. He feels hot, sweaty, like he just wants to lie down on the dirty floor and drag his hands across his chest until someone finds him and decides to give him what he wants.

Hyunjin sighs, cheeks stretching into a small, secretive smile as if carrying something mighty and great within it when a harsh knock resounds at his door. Grumbling, Hyunjin stumbles toward it, fully prepared to cuss out whatever infuriating look Changbin’s decided to put on but only halts in surprise as Jinyoung’s tightly held expression greets him instead.

“Mm.” Hyunjin leans his head against the doorframe, the light filtering magnetically across his neck. “You came.”

Jinyoung opens his mouth for a second then closes it, clearly unsure of what to say. Hyunjin’s hands trail against his chest as he pushes their bodies together, fingers eager and greedy to start grabbing at what he wants.

“We can do this later Hyunjin,” He says firmly, though there are clear seeds of a quiet desperation lingering in his eyes.

Hyunjin only pouts up at him, eyes wide and needy and he would fucking hate it if it didn’t work so well. “I want you.” His tongue grazes against the shell of his ear as he leans in to whisper, Jinyoung making some strange, almost strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Suddenly he grips both of Hyunjin’s wrists as he forces him to stumble back, eyes hardened and determined as they bore into him. “The investors are here. Minho’s waiting for you down in the silver room.”

Hyunjin huffs, scrutinizing the persistence across Jinyoung’s face as he tries to find some sort of twitch of weakness or urge to succumb to his usual, lustful desires. Jinyoung remains frustratingly expressionless, would normally never pass up an opportunity to maul Hyunjin into pieces but money prevails through even the most human of vices.

Rolling his eyes, he brushes past Jinyoung and begins his retreat back down into the club, knot in his stomach loosening with the gentle brush of ecstasy expanding within. He twists his neck around as he descends into the main area of the club, searching frantically for any sights of a bulky, short, black-haired meathead. Luckily, he doesn’t see him and a relieving smile surges across his face.

Large, plush velvet couches expand themselves like coils beneath the dim hues of red and blue flashing across the floorboards. There, before the main stage, groups of men, friends, colleagues, strangers even, all huddled together on different couches drink merrily from their own cocktail glasses, hollering every few seconds at something undoubtedly unchaste Felix is doing.

He turns a few heads as he makes his way to where the smaller groups of cushioned chairs are, all scattered across smaller stages with pole dancers freestyling languidly, lazy smiles plastered across their faces as they bend down to collect their tips. Hyunjin almost prefers performing on the smaller stages, the chances of interactions and draining of tips from the same person much higher.

He cranes his neck toward the bar by the entrance of the club, wide and circular table stretching with illuminated neon blue strips adorning the sides. Hyunjin has half a mind to go over, bat his eyes flirtatiously at their bartender as he disgruntedly starts giving him free shots, the highlighted blue tree sprouting from the middle of the table casting a dark, fluorescent shade across his face. The bar’s design is hyper-futuristic with ties to the old and ancient world through the tree, its branches and roots extending to fasten themselves into the ceiling.

Hyunjin digresses away, already knowing that the investors will undoubtedly be ordering them all drinks if not something stronger. It’s always the same.

He makes his way into one of the two narrow corridors separating the main club area, his hand brushing against the wall as if hazily clinging onto the dreamscape of the private rooms all lined up. The Silver Room is their most exclusive, at the very end with a shimmering door burning like a beacon in the dark-hued blur of everything around him. He can see Minho waiting by the door, eyes boring disinterestedly into the ceiling as if he couldn’t care less about where he was.

Then, as if something looming in his wake suddenly prickles the back of his neck, Hyunjin spins around and nearly starts screaming at the person behind him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Changbin gives him a bored, pointed look. “Doing my job.”

Hyunjin scoffs, nauseating feeling already brewing in the depths of his gut. “Someone requested a private room. You don’t need to be here.”

He turns around again, walking toward Minho who only now seems to have noticed their presence, his eyebrows quirking up as they follow Changbin’s lingering figure behind him.

“I’ll wait right outside the door.”

Hyunjin laughs, turning his head back to Changbin with a mocking smile on his face. “No, the fuck you won't.”

“I have to. It’s my job,” He stresses, frustration once again seeping into his skin as his muscles give away the slightest of twitches. Minho, who’s close enough to them by now to hear, lets out a loud, wicked laugh as if the situation is entirely too amusing to be taken seriously. Hyunjin wants to punch him in the face.

“Are you a pervert or something?” Hyunjin asks, cocking his head to the side as his narrowed gaze burrows into him.

Changbin’s face slackens, jaw dropping open as he exhales incredulously. “No! The fuck? I’m just gonna stay outside to make sure they don’t, you know, do something they shouldn’t.”

Minho’s laughter only doubles, Changbin’s eyes shooting him an irritated glare. Hyunjin grins, placing a hand on Changbin’s shoulder in mocking comfort. “Listen, I understand this is your first day and everything, but what exactly is it that you think is going to happen?”

Changbin’s gaze lingers on his hand before turning back to stare at him. He seems unfazed, once again, like someone who can’t be bothered to be upset by that of children and their inescapable irrationality. “I’m not dumb, alright? This isn’t the first strip club I’ve worked at. I know customers can get handsy, cross lines that are very clearly put in place. All I want is to ensure you that that isn’t going to happen.”

Hyunjin’s smile diminishes into a small, minuscule smirk as he opens his mouth to say something, hopefully enough to provoke him to fuck off before Minho beats him to it.

“They’re investors,” Minho deadpans. “They can do whatever they want.”

“Just stay out of it,” Hyunjin hisses, quickly before Changbin starts opening his mouth again. “Don’t mess this up.”

Changbin looks at him dubiously, something uncomfortable swirling in his eyes as he starts out slowly, tongue withering as if not fully committing to the own sound it makes. “Jinyoung made it very clear that you guys do not solicit.”

“Do you have a problem with that, huh?” Hyunjin starts but Minho only rolls his eyes and pushes himself in front of him, Hyunjin’s back hitting the shimmering door softly. He gives Hyunjin a sharp glare before painting a feigned smile on his face as he turns back to face Changbin.

“We don’t.” He says, an unnerving edge to his voice. It’s clear he would rather Changbin just leave them alone. He lowers his voice, leaning in to whisper so that no one overhears them. “We don’t sell sex, but certain customers require certain…services to keep them satisfied. But this isn’t a fucking brothel, so calm down. The less you know the better.”

Changbin’s face twists into something exasperated, eyebrows furrowing in what’s either bewilderment or disgust. Maybe a mixture of both. Hyunjin’s light-boned dazed high is starting to wither by the second.

“Now let us do our jobs,” He tuts, sending him a harsh glare before he swings open the door to the Silver Room and slams it admittedly too loudly shut once Minho’s inside.

Hyunjin barely even manages to register the whispered “You know where to find me princess” muttered under his breath before there’s a gleaming door and soundproof walls separating them, his heart beating erratically in anger as he tries to calm down.

Minho greets the clients immediately, slinking toward them gracefully from where they’re all already seated comfortably upon the lush velvet couches, whiskey glasses swaying dangerously in their hands and the musky scent of cigars wafting through the room.

Hyunjin quickly shakes the feeling off, sitting down next to one of the men he assumes to be the most important based off of his attire and cocky tilt of his head, body purring seductively from years of practice as he leans into his side. He’s not going to let Minho outshine him.

Hyunjin lets his head spin delightedly as the fumes from the cigar start whirling around his head, smiling demurely as the man lets him take a drag, lungs puffing and coughing as they all stare at him with amusement. He smokes, but even that was fucking awful. Hyunjin only giggles instead, preening beneath their gazes and compliments, sturdy hands he doesn’t know where come from grazing along his thighs as the night unfolds.

It starts out surprisingly slow, tedious repetitions of flirting, feigning bashfulness and the obligatory tantalizing biting of his lip, dragging and trailing their attention along like he was supposed to, like he was made for nothing else.

He doesn’t pay much attention to Minho, too focused on letting out pretty laughs at jokes he doesn’t really understand, nimble fingers accepting drink after drink gratefully as he wets his tongue in the hot billow of temptation. He knows how to play the game too well. A butterfly knows its home after all and Hyunjin drinks in the sickly sweet fragrance of his greenhouse with all that he is. Sensual, coquettish, everything they want him to be.

They play card games, his lips pouting when he loses on purpose, the inflated egos of the men surrounding him paying him candied, patronizing compliments to boost their own arrogance. Hyunjin soaks them up greedily, leaning into them with all the confidence he exudes and then he’s on someone’s lap as they fiddle with the hem of his lace, on the couch on all fours as dollar bills are slipped crudely into his shorts, back sticky against the table as tequila shot after tequila shot is downed from his belly button.

Hyunjin laughs and smirks through it all, head dizzy from the amount of alcohol they’d consumed. They’d bought their club’s special - Water of the Nile.

The sickening floral sweetness always makes his vision tunnel even more than the lines of cocaine in his dressing room, the soft hues of the lights above him turning blurry and doubling in his vision as his eyes crinkle with amusement. It’s funny, really. It’s funny. He never quite knows what to expect when he gets sent to a private room, playing along to whatever role they give him as soon as the door shuts.

Now that he’s splayed upon his back and pretty sure he’d seen Minho’s hand down some guy’s pants just moments before, he thinks his role is quite clear. He likes it when they’re obvious, no layered rules and hidden expectations he has to seek in order to fulfill. What these gentlemen want is not a prostitute, a partner or a plaything. They simply want to have fun. Hyunjin can give them fun.

Champagne. Hyunjin orders it greedily, fingers wrapping themselves around the bottle as soon as it arrives, knees hard against the tabletop as he pops the cork and sprays the room. Laughter, shouting and eager touches all surround him cheerfully, the pearly stream surging everywhere as it renders him soaking and sticky from where he sits, his lace top turning see-through from the wetness.

Jinyoung is going to murder him he thinks, but the thought is only vague and in the very shallowest parts of his brain so he lets it go without much contemplation. He’s sure the other patrons won’t mind him dancing in champagne-soaked clothes.

Someone clutches at the sides of his waist, a sudden tongue licking stripes up and down his exposed midriff. Hyunjin can’t even see who it is, his mind dazed in a lighthearted high as it floats around and runs to somewhere he can’t catch it. He doesn’t mind, only laughs when all of the sudden Minho is tugging him from down the table and shoving his tongue into his mouth as he pushes him onto the couch.

Hyunjin can’t help but giggle through the kiss, bubbling laughter turning strangled the deeper it becomes and he finally understands what the fuck is going on. Of course. They’re putting on a show, it’s part of their routine. Some guys whistle in appreciation and it spurs Minho on, lips numb and spit-soaked against his own.

Minho's mouth tastes oddly of nothing despite the amount of alcohol he assumes he'd consumed, like something wrapped in cotton and plastic trying to lodge itself down his throat. It's uncomfortable, but Hyunjin's head is far too gone to really care. These investors are going to be giving them the tips of their lives. Hyunjin grins into Minho's mouth, pushing himself upward as he tries to switch their positions, battling for a futile, show-driven dominance.

Hyunjin doesn't know how long it lasts, feels like an eternity if not for the steady yearning of something that lies neatly locked in his vanity desk drawer, a small white packet greedy for the dim light of freedom and paradise. Being drunk is not enough, never enough. It only makes him sick, in the end. He wants something else, wants his candy so bad he thinks his eyes might start rolling to the back of his head from desperation.

Luckily - and because he asks prettily - high-end investors never visit without bringing their own snow, drawing forth small golden tins filled to the brim with white ecstasy. Hyunjin indulges in it gladly, the last thing he remembers before it's time for them to leave and Hyunjin stumbles out back into the corridor with Minho in hand, throwing flirtatious kisses goodbye as they do so.

He's vibrating he thinks, can almost feel the way his skin is about to loosen from his bones. He walks away from the corridor happily, ignoring the shocked look on his idiot bodyguard's face the moment he stepped out, champagne-dry and sticky still.

Changbin tries to ask him something, undoubtedly something of great stupidity but Hyunjin can't hear him, too busy strolling away to one of the smaller poles in the main area, eager and ready to dance.

Oddly enough, Jinyoung doesn't complain about his appearance. The investors must have been impressed, exceedingly so. Of course they would be, Hyunjin knew that they would. He never disappoints. Not even throughout the rest of the night, his body swaying and twisting and lapping up every lust-filled whisper that carries throughout the sweltering club air, not even when the persistent presence of his bodyguard hovers alongside him like the shadow of his shadow, hidden yet piercing him through the hours of darkness.

Hyunjin can feel his gaze upon him like something hot and sweaty, lathered glue all against his body, unable to tear it off. He pays it no mind, does his job like he does every night, every night. He isn't going to let some stranger take away the magnitude of his lifestyle, the thrill in which his very bones were made for.

Only when the darkness starts to wean and the sun is not far from rising, does he retreat back to his dressing room, body sweaty and imprinted with a hundred grasping hands as he slumps tiredly against his desk. He'll be coming down soon, as he always does on the venomous pilgrimage home to a mind no longer hiding in the tunnels.

It starts with the pounding of his skull, thick and large sets of something edged and sharp swiveling through his cranium until it becomes difficult to breathe. He gets through it, as he always does.

Then, the nosebleed. Hyunjin shakily strips himself of his clothes and pulls over his sweats, small streams of blood running steadily down onto his lips. He can handle it, he can handle it. His desk is stuffed with baby wipes - antibacterial, tissues, soap, washcloths, anything really to clean up his messes. He handles it.

He's got it down by now - walk home clutching his stomach, spend an unnecessary time in the bathroom, shower and scrub himself raw, eat something, sleep. Wake up. Repeat.

Hyunjin only sighs, wiping off the last remnants of makeup from his face as he begins his descent back home, bag tightly gripped in his hands as he tries not to stumble down the staircase. It isn't until he's almost out the door when a voice nearly makes him jump out of his own skin, hand flying to his chest in a brief fleet of panic. His migraine only deepens when he sees who it is.

"Hey," Changbin says, gym bag strapped against his shoulder. It's clear he's about to head home as well. "Look, I feel like we got off to a bad start."

Hyunjin wants to sneer, would normally do so with glee, but his aching head holds him back. He only stares back for a second before opening the door and letting the desert-kissed heatwaves filter through him as he steps outside. Changbin follows suit.

"If I did something to offend you, I'm really sorry."

That makes him halt, his neck snapping back to look at him before the rest of his body turns with it. The shimmering lights of the city flicker against his face, eyes sincere and mouth downturned in a genuine, quiet sort of desperation. Hyunjin only gauges him carefully, searching frantically through his face for any signs of dishonesty. He can't find any. It only makes his hatred grow.

"Are you okay walking home alone? 'Cause, I can walk you to your apartment you know."

Hyunjin scoffs, mocking smirk filtering across his face as he looks him up and down. "Yeah? I bet you'd like that."

Changbin only shakes his head like he couldn't believe he'd even considered asking. Hyunjin's eyes linger momentarily on a few of the tattoos soaking his arms, a large snake curling itself around one of his biceps.

Changbin sighs loudly, interrupting his train of thoughts as his eyes snap back up to his face, eyebrow quirked upward in amusement. He fumbles for a moment, trying to retrieve something from his pocket before handing him a small strip of paper.

Hyunjin only stares at him, not wanting to take it but he snatches it away nonetheless once he realizes Changbin isn't going to retreat his hand. "My number," He says and Hyunjin's face immediately scrunches up into one of disgust. "For security reasons. If for some reason your stalker shows up and you don't want to call the police...call me."

"In your dreams," Hyunjin mutters and Changbin only laughs, unfazed once again. He seems to be getting uncomfortably at ease with Hyunjin's attitude.

"Good night, princess," Is all he says before turning his back to him and strolling away, broad back fading into the heap of a mingled crowd tying themselves to the billboard shadowed sidewalks. Hyunjin only stares, eyes narrowing before he begrudgingly pockets the strip of paper into his pants. The fucking ego of this guy.

The thought stays with him for an unsettling, itching amount of time as he gets home, but it withers away into dust and empty screams as with everything else. Once the lights are on and his shoes are off, his mind becomes occupied with other things. He needs to shower.

-

Hyunjin does not have many friends. He thinks he doesn't mind it, really. His mother tells him he's too much, too much, too much for other people to handle. Hyunjin thinks she might be right, the other kids avoid his bashful eye contact and stuttering introductions in the scorching courtyard of his school. They think he's weird, his mother tells him. Hyunjin doesn't know why. He's quiet, yes, clamping a hand over his mouth whenever he accidentally lets out a noise too loud. But children are supposed to be quiet.

He's nervous. Maybe that is why, his stomach clenching like hot coals every time his small legs and twitching fingers hop off the yellow bus. Surely, that is normal too. He's only nervous because he doesn't want to make mistakes. Nobody wants to make mistakes.

Maybe it is because he spends a lot of the time staring at the ground. He just prefers it. He doesn't know why. So no, Hyunjin doesn't have many friends, but it's okay. Because he has one. And he had read in a book once that one good friend is much better than ten fake ones. And his friend is the bestest of all, he thinks.

Hyunjin can't quite remember when he had first gotten Bunny. It must have been when he was a baby. Soft, furrry and with black-beaded eyes. Bunny has almost become gray now. It's because he'd loved it a lot, through all the years he'd been alive. Hyunjin thinks that's a long time to love someone. But he doesn't mind it. Bunny is his best friend.

He likes to make lists in his head of different things, the colors that he likes, the numbers, the foods, the bugs in his backyard. He makes his lists and then he writes them down, careful and slowly in order to not make mistakes. He has a small box of crayons under his bed, although most of them have become cracked in half by now.

His mother doesn't want to buy new ones. He doesn't need them. His mother doesn't like buying things they don't need. Like toys and new shoes or clothes that fit him. He grows too fast, she says. If he can still wear something, he will. It doesn't matter if they're tight and uncomfortable against his skin.

Hyunjin thinks he understands. Their house is small, cramped. His mother is always complaining about money. Sometimes he thinks he can see mold in some of the corners. Once, there had been a rat in their cupboard and his mother had screamed and attacked it with the end of a broom. Hyunjin was sad when the rat died and he cried quietly under the covers of his bed because his mother hated it when he cried in front of her.

But it was okay, for now, if his mother didn't buy new crayons. He had enough to make his lists. One day he thinks he should make a list of why Bunny is his best friend in the whole world. He spends a lot of time thinking about it, wandering through the woods with a stick in his hand as he balances clumsily on a big, ugly log. He doesn't come back inside until his mother calls for dinner. He's excited then, hungry like he usually is. So hungry he doesn't even think about his list at all!

Dinner is rice and broccoli, but there isn't enough for all three of them. Hyunjin gets crackers instead. It's okay. He likes crackers, but he's still hungry when he's finished. It hurts and he cries a little in his room. Bunny listens to him. Yes, that is his number one spot on his list! Bunny is a good listener. He writes it down immediately.

Bunny never tells him to be quiet or to stop weeping, or that he should shut up. Hyunjin thinks saying 'shut up' is mean. But Bunny never says it. The second thing on his list is that Bunny is very cute. And he's an animal. Animals are always super cute. Well, most of them anyway. Maybe not some of the beetles in his backyard.

The third...Hyunjin thinks for a while, staring intently at the little digital clock by his bedside. The numbers are boxed and red and always tell him when it's time to go to sleep. Eight o'clock! Hyunjin likes the color.

The third has to be that Bunny is very funny, yes, he writes it down eagerly. Bunny and funny even rhyme, he discovers. Bunny makes him laugh when he decides to hide in the cupboards or jump from his window to the ground outside. Bunny thinks he can fly, but Hyunjin knows that he can't. Only birds can fly.

Bunny jumps anyway, falling upside down onto the sand colored dust right outside his house. Then, because Hyunjin is a good friend, he runs outside and scrapes off the dirt from Bunny's little body. He has to check carefully of course, to make sure Bunny isn't hurt.

Usually he isn't and they laugh about it. Silly Bunny. He wants to be an astronaut after they watched it on TV together once. There was an astronaut rabbit, jumping from planet to planet and even sleeping on a star one time.

Sometimes, Bunny gets bruised a little. His cotton-stuffed body turns a little black, a little red even. But Bunny is brave and Hyunjin lets him cry from the pain. He'll patch him up in no time! Blood is easy to wipe away and bruises fade after a while. Then Bunny is as good as new!

Hyunjin also likes that Bunny agrees with him. They never argue. They like the same food, - cereal and gummies - they like the same cartoons, the same colors - red, like his clock - and even the same numbers. Three. Three is a good number. It's easy to count to and pretty when he writes it, crayons looping and curving like large half-moons. Bunny also dislikes the same things he dislikes, like vegetables and being cold and being yelled at. His mother yells at him a lot.

Sometimes Bunny whispers mean things about her when no one is listening and then Hyunjin has to scold him. He shouldn't say things like that!

When his mother married his stepfather, Bunny didn't like it at first. He was big, muscly and towered over his mother like a giant. He even smelled different. Bunny didn't like the smell. Hyunjin didn't either. Bunny tells him he smells like exhaust because he's a mechanic. Hyunjin thinks that makes sense, but he thinks he smells more like the dust bunnies always hiding under his bed.

His stepfather likes to eat meat for dinner, so his mother starts making more meat. Hyunjin likes it, but he's never allowed to get seconds. It's okay, even when his stomach rumbles and hurts afterward. His mother is nicer sometimes because his stepfather is always around. Bunny decides then that maybe he isn't so bad after all.

Sometimes, when his mother isn't looking, he'll push some extra potatoes or beans onto Hyunjin's plate. Sometimes he even asks him about his day. Bunny thinks his stepfather is really, really nice. Hyunjin agrees.

He thinks he might have to change his list a little, as time passes by. He thinks the number one thing about Bunny is that Bunny is always there for him when he's sad. When his body aches and his limbs throb, Bunny presses soft kisses against his skin. When he sits alone during lunch, nibbling on his crackers, Bunny keeps him company. Even when he gets older, grows taller and skinnier and gets made fun of for wearing clothes that are too small, Bunny holds his hand tight and tells him everything's going to be okay.

Yes, Bunny is always there. His friend, his best friend.

More things change, like his bedtime. Now it's three o'clock, three o'clock at night! He always wakes up unbearably sleepy in the mornings, head often drooping against his desk at school as his eyes flutter shut. His teachers yell at him then and he hates being yelled at so he forces himself to stay awake. It's okay, he can do it. It just makes him feel sick.

Lots of things make him feel sick. But Bunny keeps him company. When he lies awake in bed, staring at the shadows across his ceiling as he waits for the clock to turn three, he clutches Bunny tightly by his side and whispers to him all night. Bunny never changes.

-

His eyelids always become weighted with something far too heavy for his slender body and hollowed chest in the mornings, hard and high-strung against his sockets as the soft yellow light from his window filters through his translucent chiffon curtains.

Hyunjin groans, as he always does, head pounding and mouth aching while he buries his head deeply beneath his pillow, shoulder muscles clenching as he drags his arm over his head to shield himself from the light.

The alarm by his bedside buzzes incessantly, harsh ringing burrowing into his muffled ears like something knocking at its door; begging to be let in. Begrudgingly he untangles himself from his sheets and slams his hand on the digital clock to silence it, hands dragging themselves across his face as he tries to ebb away the fatigue from his eyes. Mornings always feel like a few steps away from death. Before his shower at least. It's the first thing he does when he goes to sleep and the first thing he does when he wakes up.

His feet feel cold against his floorboards despite the abundance of sweltering undulations springing from right outside his apartment. Hyunjin shivers slightly, limbs moving quickly from the white-gleaming surfaces of his bedroom to his bathroom, stripping himself of his oversized shirt and underwear before stepping beneath the burning sprouts of water clogging up his screens with thick, misty fog.

If there's one thing he takes seriously, it's his shower routine, fingers massaging his scalp with shampoo and conditioner for five minutes each before he begins to purify the rest of his body, fingers aching from the pain it takes to do it slowly. It has to be slow, because it has to be right.

Hyunjin thinks purifying is the wrong word to use, the word swiveling through fields of something bitter in his mind as it lingers there for too long. He knows full well that if there's one thing his body will never be, it's pure. Still, he will attempt to scrub away at his flesh like he always does, starting from the top and clawing his way to the bottom with sharp, violent fingernails.

He rubs his neck with soap, three times, then his collarbones, one two three, his ribcage flourishing dull red streaks from how hard he scrubs. His stomach then, - one two three - waist and pretty tattoo, - one two three - then his legs - one two and three - and at last, hunching down, his feet.

Hyunjin exhales, his chest loosening itself a little. Alright. Now two more times, the entire body. He makes sure to repeat the movements harshly, forceful enough to feel the muted ache that spreads throughout his bones, softly, harrowingly. His eyes flutter shut, the back of his head hitting the tiles gently. Relief overcomes him. In this short-lived, flicker of time, his mind quiets. He knows it won't last long, his scattered bundle of nerves puncturing into him the minute he finishes, but for now at least, Hyunjin enjoys it.

When he finally steps out, he knows his body has been scrubbed raw and red. He doesn't need to look in the mirror to know that it looks ugly, disfigured even. Hyunjin avoids most mirrors anyway.

It's okay, he tells himself as he dries off thoroughly before searching through his carefully organized cupboards for his lotions and creams. He applies them gingerly across his body, three times, and watches silently as the redness begins to fade away. Like clockwork.

Breakfast next, tedious and repetitive as he nibbles on a small bowl of dry cereal, the sugary flavors crunching jarringly against his teeth as he sits in front of the TV. He doesn't watch anything this time, mind nothing but static and needles.

Then, when he's done, because he always becomes terribly reminded of the things he has to do, he gets dressed in sweats and falls to his knees immediately.

Hyunjin takes cleaning seriously, glove-covered hands scrubbing his bathroom tiles ritualistically as he makes his way across it. The floor isn't what takes the most time, but he's meticulous and thorough, of course he is. He doesn't think much of it. He just likes his place to be gleaming.

He scrubs the toilet, the mirrors, the sink, scours the entirety of the bathroom until he can feel droplets of sweat start beading on his forehead before he moves on to the next room. It's simple. He moves in order of logic, crawling into his connected bedroom and getting to work. Then, his living room and then his kitchen. His apartment wouldn't be considered big by any means, but Hyunjin knows that it's spacious enough for one person and compared to the cramped, indented walls of his childhood home, his current nest was an outpouring canyon.

Cleaning always took hours, shaved up most of his day before evening arrived but he doesn't mind, hands working ferociously, up and down, up and down, careful not to miss that spot or that spot and of course, he's extremely meticulous when it comes to corners. He may commit blasphemy night after night but he isn't a brute.

He likes things neat. Sure, his mother had always told him he was too obsessive about it, freakishly so but Hyunjin doesn't understand how liking things to be free of grime and filth and all the dirt he'd constantly clung onto his skin growing up was such a problem.

His nose scrunches in concentration as his sponge works its way across his kitchen counter in perfectly curved, determinately pressed, circles. Round and round, up and down, one time, two times, three times, next spot and he's focused, so so focused like he always is because his mind will scream at him otherwise and he supposes it isn't uncommon for him to start thinking about something else, - his mind is a haywire of static most mornings anyway, scurrying around everywhere that resonates with the booming curse of noise - but rather unfortunate because before he can stop the muscles in his arms, he's moved on to the next spot on the counter after merely two circles. Not three. Two.

Hyunjin freezes, his chest tightening uncomfortably as familiar pinpricks of panic start settling throughout him. He's already started on the next spot, he can't go back and complete it because that would ruin the entire order, it just wouldn't be right and now his whole kitchen is ruined and won't be clean after all his hard work and he thinks he can already start smelling something festering just out of his reach and he fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up and-

He can't breathe. It's okay. Hyunjin closes his eyes, clenches them shut so tightly he starts seeing spots and exhales in and out, in and out until he finally manages to calm down just slightly. His reaction does nothing but unnerve him despite its aching familiarity.

Everything's okay. Nothing bad will happen just because he missed a spot and can't go back to fix it. It's okay. It's normal. He shouldn't be on the verge of tears for something like this because if he was that would mean something was wrong. That he has a problem, that his mother is right.

And Hyunjin doesn't have a problem and he certainly doesn't fucking cry, so he simply opens his eyes again and blinks rapidly to adjust to the harsh, bright lights hanging over his head. He continues as if nothing's wrong, chest falling and rising at a gentle pace, hands scrubbing small circles until his entire kitchen is finished.

One mishap won't do anything. It's okay, he tells himself, mind repeating the words like desperate mantras to live by. Hyunjin clings onto them with all the might his wreaking bones can manage.

He showers, again. Because of course he has to, he just spent the entire day on his hands and knees cleaning! It's completely warranted, just another part of his routine.

His shower is longer this time, than the one he took that morning. There's something unsettling swiveling in the back of his mind, his brain struggling to fully grasp onto everything running through it. He's being sloppy today. Distracted.

His neck prickles in discomfort, the muscles lodged between his shoulder blades tense and taut like something on the verge of snapping. His stalker issue had gotten way out of hand, he thinks. He doesn't need people making a fuss, especially not with someone so infuriatingly annoying.

Hyunjin's skin burns the minute he steps back onto the tiled floor, bloody and raw with the religion of his own mind. He slathers himself in lotions and creams once more, staring tiredly into his own reflection as he watches his skin turn the dulled, tan sandstone hues he was born with.

Despite how sharply and finely cut his face and body has become, Hyunjin thinks he looks the same as when he was younger. It's a strange musing, he's sure of it, but perhaps he had never trult been a child to begin with.

The soaked pits of his eyes linger with that same purgatory woven into him since the very first day he could talk - neither here nor there, stuck in an endless limbo of pain and innocence. In the end, innocence had always been a mere hope too flimsy to grasp onto, something glimmering and holy in a distance not permitted for he who lived in the shadows.

Pain on the other hand, is born from dirt, fleshed out from the very tatters of his own backyard. Pain is sin, pain is blunder. Hyunjin wears pain like the sea discards its own foam; weeping. Bleeding.

But Hyunjin is used to blood and so he pays it no attention, simply gets dressed and slams the door on the way out of his apartment with as much force as he can muster, the sound echoing in thrums of anger in his wake.

The sun flares cruelly so the minute he's out of his building complex, thin layers of sweat already gathering between the crooks of his arms. Thankfully his existence is a nocturnal one, the lack of sun made up for with the blinking stream of lights, where heat is not born from the earth and sky but from his own slithering belly, writhing in ecstasy. He still has to endure the daylight for a bit, at least until the heavens start to leak.

He'd gone to the grocery store yesterday and he certainly had no thoughts on going back to the gym anytime soon. He makes his way to the library instead, itchy for something new, something weighty and with enough soul to entrap him entirely.

It had been too long since he'd read anything, but Hyunjin figures his longing for storytelling is not something he can evade. He'd been born with it, after all.

His fingers burst with the urge to soothe themselves against every spine he sees, as if the imprints of their titles can somehow seep into his very own flesh. He resists of course, the constant reminder of germs enough to keep him from doing so. The library is big, enough so that he already becomes overwhelmed the moment he steps in but he doesn't like asking for help, pointedly ignoring the workers trying to get his attention.

He meanders to the classical section, scans the covers with an eager tilt to his eyes as he tries to discern what they could possibly be about. He had heard of a few of them, but not many, not having bothered to read most of the required high school material before he dropped out. As a child he'd enjoyed fairytales the most. And comics. Hyunjin frowns, the urge to just walk over to the children's section and pick something out from there tugging erratically at his gut.

He shakes his head, willing the desire to wash away. He can already hear his mother's voice scratch against his head. You're too old for that. It would have made him shudder, if not for how ingrained in him it had become. You're not a child!

Hyunjin squeezes his eyes shut tightly, forcing himself to focus once he opens them again, head sloping to the side as he scans and scans and scans and...his neck straightens itself stiffly. There, in the middle of the row hastily labeled Russian Classics, stand the bare legs of a schoolchild idly against a muted wall, white socks and black suede shoes slightly pointed to one another in the childish stillness of what he can only presume to be daydreaming.

It's a girl, Hyunjin thinks but it's hard to tell. He recognizes the title, had heard Felix mention it once or twice before as he tries to recall what he'd said about it. Well-written, Felix had boasted. But sick.

He doesn't know what possesses him to grab it but he does so almost immediately, forgetting entirely that he has to sanitize his hands before touching it. Hyunjin can't think about that, not now, not when there's something about this book that makes him want to rip out the pages and stick them to his bathroom tiles, smudging and wetting the ink as he attempts to read its bleeding.

He doesn't know what the book is about, but he recognizes those feet on the cover. They're his. And so he loans Lolita with a sickened feeling swirling in his gut, tucking it neatly away into his bedside drawer the moment he gets home. He thinks he knows what it's about. His stomach lurches.

Notes:

thank you so much to everyone who made it through the first chapter - i know it’s quite long. i’ve been working on this story for a while now and it’s by far the most intricate thing i’ve written so it means the world to me that it’s being read 💕 i’ll be updating every monday.

please stay tuned for more angsty stripper hyunjin, i promise he won’t disappoint 😘 there’s lots of drama to come. 🤭

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 2: Flies in the Inkwell

The night is quiet, Hyunjin thinks. Unnervingly so. Usually he can hear the faint chirping of cicadas from outside his window like soft, continual tatters of a leaky faucet against the belly of their sink. Now there’s nothing. Nothing to decipher, nothing to distract him with.

Hyunjin stares into the ceiling, boring into the shadowed ripples of all the small bumps littering the skies above him, wishing there were any stars to say hello.

Sometimes, when the night drones into an endless slumber unencumbered by sleep, he imagines the ceiling dissolving entirely, stretching and reaching into the air as if he could touch the moon from his own bed if he wanted to. It would be easy, his small fingers extending themselves so much they begin to ache.

But Hyunjin never manages to grasp onto anything before his imagination withers away, suddenly and with the company of a strangled puncture in his stomach. His blanket feels heavy from where it smothers him to the mattress, pushing and pushing until his limbs become a part of the bed themselves.

At least his bed is bigger now, can finally fit the entirety of his growing body. His stepfather had insisted on it. Disgruntled, his mother had wordlessly complied.

Sleep would be a wondrous luxury, he thinks, but one that is nothing short of his daydreaming. He can’t sleep. Not yet. It isn’t 3AM. Besides, he is much too rattled with nerves to try anyway.

Hyunjin glances at the blocked red numbers on the digital clock by his bedside, the colors blinking quickly before reappearing again with painful reminders every minute.

Time is unbearably slow. He doesn't know much. Hyunjin knows he doesn't. He's starting middle school soon and his teachers have all told him that he's behind. But he knows that one thing. Time is unbearable.

The night stretches and stretches, his eyes heavy and dry as they refuse to blink. He stares wide and with great paleness into the ceiling. Waiting. Waiting. Maybe nothing will happen tonight, but Hyunjin never dares to get his hopes up. And so he waits. And thinks. Hyunjin has learnt how to be patient by now.

His body twitches slightly, an abrupt chill running through him. Hyunjin thinks more about time, more about starting school. It isn't true that he knows nothing. Hyunjin knows more than most people think. Maybe not so much about math or science or history, but Hyunjin knows. Hyunjin knows.

He knows that the color orange means sunrise and sunset, birth and death, again and again, over and over. He knows that letting his eyes fall shut asleep in school is not acceptable, knows that he has to draw his feet into his knees inside the bathroom stalls. Otherwise somebody might see him. And he knows that if somebody might see him, chances are there will be fists and anger punching at the door, trying to get in. And Hyunjin hates loud noises. And being scared. He knows that too.

Hyunjin knows that the other children don't like him. He knows that he's unlovable. His mother had taught him that. But sometimes Hyunjin thinks she might be wrong, thinks there is maybe one person who loves him. But Hyunjin also knows how to keep a secret. So he never says anything.

He knows not eating dinner means pain in the stomach, knows to switch off his cartoons once he hears the front door unlock. His mother does not like him watching cartoons. He knows not washing his hands one time, two times, three times means something bad will happen. And they do. Bad things happen all the time. And it's always Hyunjin's fault. He knows that too.

He knows that books are getting more and more difficult to read and he knows hiding them under the bed will only make them dusty. And Hyunjin hates dust and dirt and all things disgusting. He knows that very well. But most of all, what he truly, graspingly knows without even thinking about it is how to be, what to do, once the creaking hinges of his bedroom door begin to unravel in front of him.

Not a quiet night, tonight. It's okay, because he knows what to do. He knows what to do better than anyone. He tells him that he does and Hyunjin believes him. Hyunjin believes him. He knows he never comes after 3AM and so he has to stay awake, stay awake.

He knows how to get out of his covers silently, gracefully. He knows how to slink away into the night like a cat, how to stretch his body raw and naked and everything beautiful.

Hyunjin knows how to put on a show. To tell a story. To bite and scratch and swallow his screams, pluck away his tears with sharp, bleeding nails.

Hyunjin knows the walls are thin, melting. Hyunjin knows his mother can hear. He wonders, sometimes, if she lies awake waiting just like him with her eyes shut and chest in knots. Or if she's learned how to sleep through it by now. Because Hyunjin knows she knows and he knows she won't say anything.

It's okay. Hyunjin doesn't say anything either.

He can keep a secret. He knows how to better than anyone.

 

-

 

Something flickers in his peripheral vision the moment he lets his head tilt to the side, low rumbling redness cascading in shadows down his body as he lets himself for one, glorious short-lived moment, become weightless. Gasps and applause resound all around him, stunned by his sudden drop. But Hyunjin stops himself just before hitting the ground, the lights turning a pitch black with the marking of the end of his routine.

He'd done it so many times by now and still, Hyunjin thinks, if his vision had not failed him, it had been the first time a certain head from the crowd had turned to look at him.

Good, Hyunjin thinks, satisfaction slithering into his gut the moment he makes his way backstage. Changbin should know he's not just some cheap stripper. He's a performer.

He sighs nonetheless, breathless and exhausted as he begins counting his tips, fishing them out of his underwear and boots with a careful enough precision not to tilt over. Felix stands once again expectantly backstage, legs propped against the railing as he stretches.

He flashes him a bright grin the moment he sees him and Hyunjin gives him a tired, faintly lined one back. Hyunjin never understands how Felix manages to always be so buzzing and cheerful, especially after he'd gone sober three months ago. Hyunjin thinks his head would come melting off if he ever decided to do that.

He wants to shoulder his way forward, eager to get back to his dressing room but the small glimmer in Felix's eye stops him, his blond hair falling in graceful strands across his face. "Hey, guess what?"

"What?" Hyunjin replies dully, already regretting having asked. He thinks he knows what it's about anyway.

"I found an NA meeting that's like, midday." Felix grins cheerfully, shoulders drawn together in excitement and Hyunjin swallows the urge to groan. He'd been trying to get him to go to one of those goddamn meetings for weeks now. "I know you don't like waking up early."

Hyunjin only stares back, eyes narrowed as they bore into Felix, bushy-tailed and smiling. He doesn't understand what he's doing in a place like this. He'd probably be welcomed anywhere, with open arms. Hyunjin's head pounds with something heavy.

In his silence, Felix continues with eagerness, retying the lace of his corset absentmindedly. "There's one tomorrow, we could get a late lunch after before work-"

"Felix. I'm not going to a fucking NA meeting, alright?" Doing coke for work was the least of his problems anyway.

"But c'mon!" Felix pouts, his eyes slanting downward in a desperate plea. That kind of charm might work on anyone else, but Hyunjin only grits his teeth in return. "It won't hurt and you don't have to participate. Just come for, you know, moral support."

"I'd rather douse myself in fire."

He turns on his heels as quickly as possible, skin eager to stitch away from a conversation they've repeated countless of times beneath that barren swarm of heat they call the sky. They remain as fruitless as ever. Hyunjin has no desires to fill the caverns of his lungs with vegetation and other grueling knots that will only clog his breath. He, like the canyoned valleys of his roots, will contentedly remain a desert.

Sobriety is a sham anyway, to the clamorous mind.

Hyunjin never manages to reach quite as far as he'd hoped, determined footsteps crashing to an abrupt halt the moment he turns his body, blocked once more by a face that instantly sours his gut. Changbin grips a soft bundle of silk in his hands as he stretches it out toward him, Hyunjin gauging the robe suspiciously as if it would somehow scald him if he touched it.

Changbin gives him a strange, placid smile. Hyunjin doesn't know what to make out of it.

"And I got you a bottle of water," He says, thrusting his other hand forward as well, plastic bottle gingerly slotted in his grip. Hyunjin only narrows his eyes.

"I'd prefer a drink actually."

Changbin chuckles lightheartedly and Hyunjin wants to curse him out. Still, he snatches both the bottle and the robe as quickly as he can, careful to avoid any contact with his skin. He can feel Felix's presence linger like a buzzing, incessant insect behind them, carefully gaging their interaction.

"Wow." He smiles widely, stepping forward with twinkling, scrunched up eyes. "I wish you were my bodyguard."

Hyunjin shoots Felix a dirty look, which he charmingly ignores. Changbin laughs, the sound deep and hearty and itchy against his skull. Hyunjin wishes they would all just be quiet.

"You can have him if you want," He quips, head tilting to the side as he glares him down, grip around his water bottle tightening by the second.

"Ouch," Changbin says, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. Hyunjin just rolls his eyes.

"I love your tattoos," Felix says, eyes wandering down his arms with an eager smile. Hyunjin lets his gaze linger for a second, soaking in the ink-tattered skin as he tries to discern any shapes or patterns he might recognize, that might mean something more to him than swirls of unclean muscle. They don't and so he looks away, bored.

Frustratingly, Hyunjin seems to be the only one disinterested. He almost wishes Minho were there. Changbin grins, appreciative that someone, for once, is friendly toward him. "Thanks! I'm a tattoo artist actually. This is just a part time gig."

"Really? I've been thinking about getting one."

Hyunjin can't remember Felix ever having mentioned wanting a tattoo, and Felix mentions everything. Nonstop, incessantly. Needles prickle the insides of his gut as he has half a mind to simply run away, nose itching once again. Clockwork. He needs to get back to his dressing room.

Changbin's eyes light up at Felix's earnest and really, it shouldn't be Hyunjin's job to remind Felix that he has a shift to complete. Changbin's smile deepens. "You should. I can give you a discount if you want-"

"Don't you have to get on stage?" He grits out, lips stretching into the most painful of faux grins he can muster as Felix's eyes widen in realization. Hyunjin is sure his stage name is being called out this very second.

"Oh right." Felix breaks into a bashful, embarrassed smile as if he had completely forgotten about his job, ditzy and confused. Hyunjin can never tell how much of it is real or just an act. "See you later then. I'll hold you to that discount by the way."

Felix cranes his neck to grin flirtatiously back as he walks toward the stage, Changbin giving him strips of a carefree laughter in return. "Definitely. Break a leg."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, head fully split into the bundled waves of an ache as he starts making his way down the corridor, barreling toward the stairs leading up to sweet, sugary goodness. Like a shadow, Changbin follows him.

"I like yours, by the way."

Hyunjin wants to scream, but he swallows harshly, hands grazing the staircase railing almost erratically until he immediately regrets it.

"My what?" He asks dully, retreating his hands as if scalded. He doesn't want to think about the germs.

"Your tattoo," Changbin explains, still trailing after him as they reach the top. The music sounds distilled, muted all the way up there. Still, it sears his head in agony. "It's pretty. Who did it?"

"None of your business," He spits out, fingers stretching themselves against the imprinted kaleidoscope on his hip.

"You like butterflies?" Changbin asks, eyes trailing down to look as he ignores his blatant contempt. Hyunjin's nails dig in uncomfortably, clawing at the ink.

"They're nice," He answers sarcastically, mouth smiling in mocking sweetness. Changbin once again says nothing regarding his behavior.

"You never texted me last night."

Hyunjin scoffs, folding his arms together. "Why should I?"

"I wanted to know if you got home safely. That's all."

Anger filters through him in ripples, discordant and jagged like it always seems to be, Changbin's expression marred with complexities he cannot understand - confusion, carelessness, concern, their ability to all coexist within one another at the same time only fueling the already hardening pinpricks of resentment brewing in his chest. He worries they should rot so much one day that he can never scrape them off.

The dimly lit lightbulb flickers for a second, the hallway murky against the low redness bleeding from downstairs. A few dancers walk in and out of their dressing rooms, but Changbin pays them no mind, simply staring at Hyunjin with an expectant, unreadable gaze.

"You don't need to worry about me," He responds, teeth grit together as he tries not to let his loosely-bound fury begin to foam. "I understand it's your 'job' or whatever, but as soon as I clock out, you can stop pretending to care."

"I'm not pretending-"

"Save it, alright?" Hyunjin nearly laughs at the offended look adorning Changbin's face. Never once has he been babied from the harshness of reality. He isn't about to start now. "It's already bad enough I have you hovering around during my shift, but outside of work too? No. Not gonna happen."

"Jesus," Changbin scoffs, the heat pooling in Hyunjin's gut brewing to a dangerous pressure. He feels dizzy with rage, dulled and muted and unbearable inside his bones. "Why are you always so defensive?"

"Why are you so persistent?" He snaps back, the sweat on his forehead clinging like grains of sand against his knees in the balmy sun of his summer childhoods.

"Because I feel like we should be friendly since we're working so closely together," Changbin presses, his forehead creased in frustration. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"No it doesn't. I never agreed to this, I don't need a fucking babysitter."

"I'm not a babysitter-"

"Then stop acting like one!" Hyunjin is vaguely aware that the entire floor can probably hear his screaming, but his lungs compress until they all too willingly let go of whatever breaths they've been holding back. He can't help it. "I don't need your robe or your stupid water, just leave me alone!"

"I'm just trying to be nice!" Changbin's face is visibly hard-set and irritated by now, but Hyunjin can't help but scoff at his empty words. Nice? In the splendor of murky fog and contaminated redness that surrounds them? Man with no eyes cannot see where he is, Hyunjin supposes.

"Well stop!" He shouts, aggressively thrusting forward the bottle of water and robe in his tight grip.

"Fine!" Changbin snatches them quickly and Hyunjin utters out a last, spit hurling "Fine!" as well before opening his door and slamming it shut with all his might. He barely recognizes the harsh sound with which it closes anyway, his skull pounding and thumping with the echoing bassline of blood.

Stupid fucking idiot intruding on his space with that stupid fucking face. Hyunjin lets himself seethe in a buzzing sort of silence for longer than he wants too admit before angrily shoving his desk drawer open and protruding forth what he knows will finally bring peace; hollowness.

Hyunjin snorts his nose candy with an almost vicious sense of purpose, his inhibitions far too buried in the ground to focus on anything else but the burning sensation of a pleasure already born with a dying soul. He lets his anger wash off of him easily then; out of body and drifting.

When Jinyoung knocks on his door a few moments later and graciously lets himself in, it's this man that Hyunjin recognizes all too well, the Jinyoung he both loves and hates all at the same time, the Jinyoung that takes and takes and takes everything Hyunjin's been trained to give. The Jinyoung that loops his arms around his waist, dips his upper body down and starts kissing him feverishly.

Hyunjin reciprocates gladly, of course he does, when the numbing feeling in his chest begins to palpitate with something hot and gushing and untamable, slinging his arms around his shoulders as he's pushed onto his vanity desk.

Hyunjin thinks he could do this in his sleep if he had to, knows exactly how to twist and bend his body in every right way, the angle of his head as he arches his back, neck on display, pretty lips panting and moaning and bringing demise wherever they spill open. Yes, asleep, drunk, high, dead even, Hyunjin could do this without blinking an eye. Like second-nature, a way of exhaling in the dark.

It's what he does on stage after all, what he's been doing in the shadows of his entire life. Performing. Putting on a show.

It's what people don't understand about sex, he thinks, his nails digging into Jinyoung's shoulder blades as he rips off his underwear, what people don't understand about life, about humans. People want a show, something to marvel at, desire with their innate greed, something to destroy with their own pearly teeth, sharpened and hungry. And Hyunjin will give them a show, on stage, behind the curtains, in the lowly backdrop of muddied canyons - anywhere really, where trails of dirt slope like tears in the wake of his footsteps.

He lets out a high pitched whine, eyes pinched tightly together as Jinyoung's pace begins to falter. This is the easiest part, knows exactly how to push men over the edge in those last blundering moments.

They need something needy and wrecked to unravel the remnants of a built-up itch and so Hyunjin opens his eyes as they roll all the way to the back of his head and moans in the most desperate, pornographic way the swells of his voice allow him to. Like clockwork, Jinyoung buries his head into his shoulder as he spills inside of him, their breathing heavy and thick together in the newfound silence.

Hyunjin is sure their entire floor could hear them despite the blasting music coming from downstairs, but he only slumps against his desk tiredly, too strung out to care. He knows they've all heard it before anyway and none of them have had the nerve to confront him about it either. Well, except Minho. But Hyunjin doesn't particularly take Minho into account regarding anything.

He gets dressed again somewhat slowly as soon as Jinyoung pulls out and tosses away the condom, trying not to let his sudden exhaustion drag him down when he's still only halfway through his shift. Jinyoung only looks at him as he shimmies up in his fishnets, an unreadable expression etched across his face.

"What?" Hyunjin asks, though it comes out more aggravated than he intends it to. Fuck, he needs a cigarette.

Jinyoung only stares at him before the faintest ghost of a grin becomes him. Then, after a silence far too long he says finally, "I have some good news."

"You're getting rid of Changbin?"

Jinyoung laughs, hearty and loud before he shakes his head and starts walking toward him, eyes alit with an unusual excitement. "No. Sorry about that. Doesn't look like he's going anywhere."

Hyunjin only huffs in response, pulling down a crop top over his head before Jinyoung places both of his hands on his shoulders, eyes finding his own with an unfamiliar sense of severity. Hyunjin stares back, stomach wringing itself in a sudden nervousness.

"You know Playboy?" He asks, and Hyunjin would have almost thought it was a joke if not for the resolute lines planted firmly upon Jinyoung's face.

"Uh, yes?" He answers flagrantly, because duh.

Jinyoung's mouth splits into a wide, electrified grin. "Well, one of their executive writers is starting a new magazine, with the same concept."

"Okay..." Hyunjin trails off, searching desperately for answers in the swirling rapture of Jinyoung's eyes.

"Except," Jinyoung stresses, "this time the market is catered toward a more diverse audience, if you know what I mean."

"So they're making a gay Playboy, is that what you're trying to say?"

"Well, yes." Jinyoung pauses momentarily, the sparkle in his eye still shining just as bright. "There have only been a few men to have been featured in Playboy and Playgirl was discontinued a long time ago. This writer, he called me, and told me he's been pushing to make a more open, diverse version of the magazine that caters to everyone's taste. Not just straight men."

Hyunjin crosses his arms as he arches an eyebrow. "Where are you going with this?"

Jinyoung's grin widens substantially. "He's finally ready to produce the first issue and they're going with a Vegas-exclusive trial run the first year or so. You know, to see if people are open to it."

Hyunjin nods in understanding, pursing his lips as he shoots him a knowing look. "And nobody's more open to the unorthodox than Las Vegans."

"Exactly!" Hyunjin nearly jumps from how loud Jinyoung's voice turned, his eyes buzzing maniacally as he shakes his shoulders in excitement. "Especially if it's sex-related."

"Okay." Hyunjin laughs. "Why'd they call you though?"

Jinyoung's smile nearly stretches off of his face at this point. Hyunjin can feel something untighten in his own chest. "Because I just happen to know some of the sexiest men in all of Nevada that would be perfect for the first issue."

"Are you serious?" He grins, affected more than he'd like to admit from Jinyoung's enthusiasm.

"Of course I'm serious. Minho and Felix already agreed. The pay is going to be epic."

Hyunjin laughs, again, his eyes scrunching up at the ridiculous giddiness on Jinyoung's face. Of course he's sporting a shit-eating grin if he's about to receive the paycheck of his life.

"Now listen." He starts, an air of sobriety suddenly encompassing him once again. "This isn't some cheap porno magazine, okay? I wouldn't do that to my stars. It's tasteful, highly anticipated and seductive. You won't be naked or anything like that, but still, you know..."

Hyunjin laughs airily, a smirk flitting across his lips as he snakes a hand up Jinyoung's chest. "Don't worry, I know how to be plenty sexy semi-clothed."

"I know." Jinyoung says, voice low and playful as it grazes against his ear. "Which is why you're my biggest star here." He circles his hands around his waist, eyes glimmering with something Hyunjin can't quite begin to unravel. "Which is why you," Jinyoung tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, voice uncharacteristically gentle as he stares into him, "would be perfect for the cover."

Hyunjin's mouth drops open, momentary surprise flooding over him. He blinks rapidly, a strange taste settling on his tongue. "I...really?"

Jinyoung's smile is tender then, kind and serene and tied with strings of something that makes Hyunjin's heart clench uncomfortably, a sour pit forming in his gut the longer they stare at each other. "Of course." Jinyoung says, at last, his eyes flitting down to his lips for the briefest of seconds. "You're my star, aren't you?"

Hyunjin smiles back placidly, nodding, he's sure of it, though his face and body feel numb and prickled with the blunted edges of a hundred worn-out needles. Jinyoung's grin widens, happily, genuinely and he tucks another strand of silky black hair behind his ear.

Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever felt Jinyoung's touch not tethered with roughness or greed against the own bumps of his rotted flesh like this. Feathery, fond. Unearthly, Hyunjin realizes, to what his muscles were molded for.

He swallows the bile rising in his throat the minute Jinyoung steps away, closing the door behind him with a foreign, peaceful thud.

 

-

 

Little dove, where are you? Something stirs beneath his eyelids, small bumps of grainy memories he'd long since buried alive flickering unwillingly. Little dove, where did you go? Hyunjin's legs twitch faintly in his sleep, a daunting ember pulsating inside his chest, faster and faster.

Little dove, I love you. His breath hitches, rising and falling heavily and with great resistance, taut with something trying to drag him down. Little bird, I adore you so.

Seedy, whisky-scented panels of wood always leave the worst bruises against his skin. Little bird, don't hide. Someone calls out his name, faint and with yearning, his wings twitch as they attempt to spread.

Little bird, give me love. They ask for the Dove, want to dirty pearly feathers with their grime-indented hands. Little bird, by my side.

Hyunjin can't tell if he's in the backroom of his first strip club or if he's home, face buried beneath his sheets as his heart pounds in anticipation. Both places smell the same. 'Cause you're my pretty little dove.

Something sickly and long wraps itself around his thigh, sludges of black soot dripping down his leg as it snakes its way further and further up, whispering against his ear and circling around his neck, tight, tight, so tight he thinks his eyes pop.

He can hear it, that song, its soft rhythm that of a lullaby as it rocks him gently back and forth. For a moment, he leans into it, humming along, licking the tar that wets his bed-ridden flesh with earnest, fast and greedy. Hyunjin is eager to please. A good bird, a good dove. Hyunjin wants to be good, longs to be good. Hyunjin is good.

The whispers tickle against his ear, low and of something he desperately needs to understand, too heavy for him to fully grasp. Praises, sweet words he laps up achingly, like a dog, some starved beaten beast shunned to the shadows. Right now, right here, when he's good, when he's his pretty little dove, in the rifts of secret, soiled moments, Hyunjin knows he was not born rotten.

His mother is wrong, wrong, wrong. What does she know about being desired, what does she know about pleasing, about being good? Hyunjin knows everything, knows he is not rotten at all. How can such lullabies praise him so if he were?

The photos will turn out good, he hopes they will. Back arching pleasantly, pouty lips opened in small, needy gasps, limbs stretching and stretching just as he was taught. He hopes they turn out good, can feel his heart strum with every flash of the camera, because then he'll buy him new clothes.

Pretty ones, like the ones he's wearing now. But mostly because he does not want to disappoint him, yearns for words he can call his own, beautiful, pretty, cute, yearns for the hum of the lullaby once again.

Little dove, little dove, Hyunjin cannot open his grasp for fear of them slipping away, drooping into small kernels of sand as they splatter against his floor. He's eleven and he's good. Not a rotten child, like his mother said, but a bird. A pretty little dove, his pretty little dove-

Hyunjin bolts upright, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dusty darkness around him, his chest heaving heavily up and down. He swallows, unsure for a moment, where he really is before he recognizes the slightest billows of his curtain, strips of a large, sleepless city expanding restlessly below him.

He sighs, not sure if it's from relief or exhaustion before a pool of nausea begins to gather in his gut. He's drenched his clothes in sweat, the fabric clinging stickily against his skin. He'll need to shower now, and then change his sheets. He quickly looks to his digital clock, the red letters blinking a dismal 7AM in front of him. Fuck. It's too early to shower, it'll mess his whole day up.

He isn't supposed to wake up for a few hours and only then is he supposed to shower if he wants to make it an even three before his shift. If he showers already it leaves a gaping hole in the middle of his day. He could always shower four times but no, no, that simply isn't right.

Shakily, he makes his way out of the bed, stripping off his sheets and his clothes before stepping onto the cold tiles of his bathroom floor, eyes determined not to meet the mirror.

The hot water scalds his back as he begins to scrub himself clean, eyes boring dazedly into the soapy foam running down his leg and spiraling into the drain. Hyunjin tries not think of his dream, the echoes of a lullaby far too repressed thudding back and forth with a painful, aching scratch.

It's a memory erased, he decides, nonexistent. He tries not to dwell on it too much, really, it shouldn't flutter so glaringly after all these years and so he focuses on anything else, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing, one, two, three, ritualistically tearing his skin apart time after time until he finally decides that it's enough, that it's right.

His skin feels numb as he gently slathers himself in lotion, his fingers rubbing against his collarbones with a distant, far-off expression cast upon his face. Unwillingly, he catches sight of himself in the mirror, dark, shoulder-length hair and porcelain skin like a vase with cracks running all over it. Hyunjin thinks his veins might start spilling runny mud at any second.

An image flashes in his mind for the briefest of seconds, old frayed photographs of a docile, gentle looking woman he had never been able to recognize tucked safely away in the bottom of his mother's wardrobe. Long, dark hair, eyes sharp and that of a cat. Smile gleaming and blinding in the dust-stained corners of old pictures.

Hyunjin had found them one day, young and bored and not yet bound entirely by the fear of disobedience. It was clear his mother had kept them a secret, for herself perhaps. A memory of who she was before motherhood, before he had come forth into the world with demanding tears and grabby hands too extreme for her to handle. And though she looked the same, still caressed with God-given streaks of beauty, Hyunjin had found her unrecognizable.

She had seemed happier then, at peace almost. Back then Hyunjin could not imagine his mother smiling or spilling words other than those of disdain and hatred. He still couldn't. She had buried the person from those photos, watering herself solely with the anger left to fuel her.

Still, Hyunjin thinks of the pictures. There is something he detests about them, something that burns and itches inside of his skin whenever he sees those unrecognizable eyes in the hollows of his own.

Hyunjin doesn't understand why people tell him, constantly throughout his life in the few, brief moments where outside influences allowed themselves to weasel their way into the shallow cracks of his home, that he looks like his mother.

He doesn't see it, he thinks and yet he's heard it a thousand times. You look just like your mother! So pretty! His mother would scoff and he would scoff. He doesn't look like her.

Still, he dyes his hair brown and then blond and he cuts it this way and that way, he gets curtain bangs - he lets it grow longer, he chops it short again. It doesn't matter. Now of course, nobody knows his mother and yet he can hear their voices as he looks in the mirror, the urge to shatter it with his fist growing stronger day after day. It doesn't matter how his hair looks, doesn't matter if he's dried his skin off spotless and clean or if it's splattered in heavy makeup. He can still imagine them saying it. You look like your mother.

Sometimes he considers getting piercings, maybe even plastic surgery but then he thinks that that might be a little insane. People like his face. Clearly - it's what pays his bills. It's what gets him free drinks and free drugs and free compliments. Free attention. For as long as he can remember.

Yes, it must be because of his face so why should he change it just because he looks like his mother - no, just because some people think he looks like his mother.

It doesn't matter, not really, not anymore. And so he fills the vacant gap of his day with the one thing he knows will distract him perfectly, slinking his way to Jinyoung's apartment with greedy, igniting whispers, the shell of his ear wet from aimless kisses as his body rips itself apart from claws and teeth and sin.

He revels in it, worships the momentary blankness of his mind, his skin longing for it once again the minute it all comes crumbling to completion anyway.

When nightfall begins to prowl, Hyunjin is grateful for the exhaustion and glitter beneath the flashing club lights, his body twisting and stretching in all things bewitching. Changbin isn't working today. Hyunjin is glad, his performance even more captivating than usual.

Extending mystically and alluringly from the main longue of stages, is a hallway darkly-lit and with a small line of men waiting eagerly to get in. An artistic experience for limited guests only, a display really, because Jinyoung is nothing but brilliant at disguising his love for money as being a connoisseur of provocative art.

This night it's Hyunjin's turn to glimmer beneath sparkly, silver lights in the very belly of the beast adorned in large, red feathers sprouting from his shoulder blades. He's a vision in red, electrifying ruby-colored plumage attached to his cherry-tinted corset like large, diamond-scattered wings ready for him to take off.

Instead, he's trapped. Locked in a human sized birdcage hanging from the ceiling, the large golden bars spacious enough from each other to give the watchers a clear view of his capture. Hyunjin knows he's supposed to be a bird imprisoned, but with the heaviness of his wings and the dark rimmed makeup of his eyes, he thinks he looks more like a fallen angel than anything.

The hallway is almost completely black save for the bright lights cast upon the cages, the thick chains holding them up so long that he really isn't that far from the ground. After all, the gentlemen who pay for this very experience should be able to see him. There are three cages lined up all after each other, each with a different bird just as equally seductive, just as equally trapped.

Last month the theme had been Egyptian cats, all dancing and stretching in translucent boxes chained to the floor, tight leather body suits and black painted nails fusing together into a seductive, unforgettable display. And because their two-month limited-guest performance was exclusive solely for its temporariness, Jinyoung had plenty ideas on how to keep it interesting.

Now, with rhinestoned feathers and red lace underwear, the theme is confined birds desperate to flee from their master. Hyunjin prefers dancing on stage and private rooms to this, even though the watchers can't touch him from where he stands. Still he dances enticingly in his cage, committed to his movements, first and foremost.

Mostly he's just relieved he doesn't have to play the dove again as he glances over his shoulder to look at Felix with glassy eyes and a withdrawn frame sinking to the bottom of his cage in a graceful, almost holy sort of sorrow.

His white wings remind him all too much of the first time Jinyoung had put him in that costume despite his protests, how he'd been so angry and coked up he'd scratched and torn the feathers to pieces during his performance. Most of the clients thought it was a part of the display, but Jinyoung had very pointedly not given him the role of the dove ever again.

And so Hyunjin tries his hardest to embody the fluttery nature of a summer tanager, spinning around as he grabs onto the bars, twisting his hips and dragging his hands seductively all over his body. His eyes are hooded, his lips numb and raw from how much he's bitten them, his legs sore as they sink into a deep split, his torso leaning against the bottom of his cage to stretch out his arms down below.

The customers have been given clear instructions not to touch, to even slot their tips politely into a little box below his cage and yet Hyunjin loves to stretch out as much as he can, tease, tease and tease until someone breaks, greed overcoming them once again.

This time it's a man he doesn't recognize, young with the appearance of the wealthy and the finesse of the common man. Hyunjin extends his leg from two of the golden bars, his skin shimmering beneath the silver light.

It doesn't take long before he reaches out, just lightly brushing his finger against his ankle and yet it's all it takes for the bodyguards at each end of the hallway to resolutely escort him out.

Hyunjin pouts in faux disappointment as he continues to dance, the faces of the watchers all blurring into one heap of foggy haze. It's dizzying, almost, more so than on the stage. Here in the pits of darkness trapped on display, Hyunjin feels stripped; exposed, despite the cage keeping him safe. He supposes it's some bullshit metaphor Jinyoung will gladly supply him with should he ask, but he decides to keep his mouth shut instead.

And so he dances in place until his legs begin to ache, the harsh straps of his wings digging into his flesh menacingly. Hyunjin doesn't mind the pain, not really. The small droplets of blood blend in all too well with the redness of his lace. The gentle sting tethers him to reality, a good thing after all, even when he gets out of the cage.

Hyunjin doesn't have to ask Jinyoung to recognize better than anyone the paradox of this stupid, ostentatious metaphor. The impression of freedom is just an illusion anyway. Everyone knows clipped wings have nowhere to fly.

 

-

 

"I can't believe you're gonna be on the cover!"

Felix grins excitedly at him from across the table, his eyes scrunching up as his teeth gleam beneath the sun, the grip on his cigarette tightening momentarily as his hand flickers enthusiastically.

Hyunjin smiles back, muscles taut and uncomfortable as he tries not to think about the amount of germs scattered across the countertop between the two of them, thankful that he had decided to wear long-legged pants despite the scorching heat of a midday Nevada. At least then his thighs won't be touching the chair.

"God, it's going to look so good, I just know it," Felix continues on eagerly, the sunglasses perched on top of his head almost falling off for a brief second. Hyunjin doesn't understand how anyone can be so animated this early, but if there's one person he's learnt he'll never fully understand, it's Felix.

Felix gushes on endlessly about the magazine shoot, theorizing about what kind of concepts they'll do, if the photos will be related to their club personas and names and Hyunjin would have had a fully split headache by now if not for the smoke gently filling his lungs. He'd ordered a cocktail painfully long ago, his leg buzzing in restless anticipation for it to arrive.

Hyunjin hates his days off, the two least busy days of the week where he finally gets a break, but seldom does he know what to do with himself when not flourishing beneath blinding stage lights. He'd agreed to meet Felix for brunch, not something he'd normally consider doing but a compromise really, after refusing to join his NA meetings.

Felix had been overjoyed, because of course he was. Hyunjin knows the night life can be lonely at times, even for someone as bubbly as Felix and he can hardly imagine Minho ever agreeing to hanging out with anyone in his spare time. Whatever. Hyunjin couldn't care less about what Minho fills his days with.

"So, have you seen that creep stalking you lately?" Felix turns a bit serious as soon as the drinks arrive, a hot lemon tea for him and a sparkling mojito Hyunjin almost grabs with all the force he can carry right before the painstaking reminder hits him that no, there's something he needs to do.

Fidgety and under the table, he rubs his hand sanitizer roughly into his skin, hard and thorough, one, two, three. Then, because he doesn't really know where that plastic straw has been, he puts his own, carefully washed and kept straw he likes to carry with him, into his drink before at last taking a canyon-quenching sip.

Hyunjin can tell Felix is looking at him strangely, but he doesn't say anything because he's too polite and nice for his own good. And frustratingly sober, Hyunjin thinks, almost rolling his eyes at the steam wafting from his own teacup, but only shakes his head to Felix's question instead.

"Nope." Hyunjin takes a long, satiating drag from his cigarette as he lets the gentle buzz of the alcohol begin to settle his nerves. "Guess the fucker finally got the message."

"Almost wish he'd start stalking me," Felix whines and Hyunjin laughs at the dramatic pout drooping off his face. "Then Changbin could be my bodyguard."

"Eugh." His nose wrinkles in disgust. "Why? He's so fucking annoying."

"Are you kidding me?" Felix laughs, flicking his cigarette above the ash tray with an amusing expression filtering through him. "Because he's fine as hell, duh."

"Do you have some sort kink for short guys or what?"

Felix almost doubles over in laughter then, his head shaking in a quiet sort of disbelief as soon as he composes himself. All of the sudden he's staring directly into his eyes, pupils wide and glimmering with a teasing sort of glint Hyunjin doesn't understand.

"Don't tell me you don't find him hot. With all those muscles and tattoos..." Felix trails off almost dreamily and this time Hyunjin really wants to gag. What the fuck?

"Just sleep him with already." God, this is giving him a headache. Something uncomfortable lodges itself in his gut and his fingers reach desperately for refuge in the pearly ripples of his sun-soaked drink.

"I wish," Felix laments, eyes trailing downward before perking up suddenly as if struck by an important thought. "Most guys turn so weird once they find out what you do for a living. But Changbin just seems like he wouldn't care you know. Like he'd still treat you the same."

Hyunjin laughs then, though it comes out more strained and bitter than he wants it to. "How the fuck do you know that?"

"We talk." Felix only shrugs like there's not much to it.

Hyunjin can't really fathom, not that he particularly wants to either, why the words feel sluggish and blurry as they slip from Felix's lips and tumble toward him. He supposes he's getting tipsy already - that had been his plan after all. Still, the words stumble through his tongue as he tries to answer, something slimy and withering holding them back. "You...talk?"

"Yeah." Felix takes another drag before crushing the butt of his cigarette against the ash tray. "Here and there."

"So why not then?" Something light and floaty starts running through the back of his head, like a gentle, soothing chill dulling the fiery cables of his blood. It feels nice, finally, Hyunjin feels nice. "Sleep with him I mean?"

Felix sighs then, propping his elbows against the table as he places his chin in the palm of both hands. "I don't think I'm his type."

Hyunjin stares at him quizzically, at the docile way the blond strands frame his small, pretty face, his lips pink and shiny as they pout endearingly, the sun glimmering above him in spiritual ripples - a halo crowning from silky, golden locks.

Something tightens in his chest then, hot, snaky and entirely too uncomfortable for him to digest, to willfully ebb away. Felix is the epitome of unconditional beauty - pure, graceful. Clean. Hyunjin doesn't pry, doesn't like getting involved in other people's business and yet still, he can't help wondering in sweltering moments such as these, why Felix is not somewhere else.

He only shakes his head instead. "What are you talking about? Aren't you everybody's type?"

Felix looks at him strangely, something shadowed and yet amusing all at once sifting through him as they make eye contact for what Hyunjin perceives to be far too long, but maybe he's just drunk. Felix only shrugs in the end, as if there was not a single thought behind those eyes at all anyway. "Just a feeling."

What a fucking weirdo. Still, Hyunjin laughs though he doesn't really know why. "You could do better anyway."

Felix smiles at him as if entertained by something but keeps silent nonetheless. They bask in the lapping heatwaves dancing around them for a small, yet eminent stretch of time, the two of them existing as nothing but insignificant specks of dust beneath a sun far too distant and a city far too vast.

Hyunjin remembers the first time he had visited Las Vegas, unaware entirely of what his future awaited him the moment he stepped foot on the blistering, glitter-spangled sidewalks of a tomorrow best held unspoken. Everything had seemed so big then, much bigger than Phoenix and far larger than any creeks or expansive strips of land in his ramshackle hometown.

Then, because he poured into the city all of that which nurtured him to functionality, it had become significantly smaller over time. It was nice, sometimes, to still feel like just another speck of light from above. He cherished those moments, the few times they struck him. Or perhaps his tipsiness was reaching new levels of sentimentality. He figured that was probably more likely.

It would also explain why, along the buzzing string of some conversation he isn't entirely too aware of, Hyunjin nods along eagerly to Felix going on a tangent about how he should be able to get whatever tattoo or piercing he wants done to his body without getting approval from Jinyoung first.

"Absolutely." Hyunjin swears his vision falters momentarily. He just shakes it off. "I've been thinking about getting a new one too actually."

"Really?" Felix's eyes set ablaze instantly, his cheeks stretching into a blinding, overjoyed grin. "Let's do it together then!"

"Sure." Hyunjin shrugs, clicking his lighter clumsily as he fishes forward his second cigarette.

"Now?" Felix is already halfway out his seat and Hyunjin nearly does a double take from how enthusiastically Felix is looking at him, eyes wide and round and entirely too hopeful.

"Uh." Hyunjin blinks, his brain jumbled as it half-heartedly tries to process what he'd just agreed to. "I guess."

"Great!" Felix gushes, hurriedly grabbing his things as he drops a few bucks onto the table. Hyunjin follows his lead, albeit not as graceful and thoroughly uncoordinated as they make their way back to the street.

"So, I was debating on something small on my ribcage like either a dragonfly or some kind of bird, like our state bird maybe, but I don't know if those are too common you know?" Felix rambles as they walk down the Strip, his face alit as he gestures animatedly with his hands. Hyunjin has no idea where they're going, but Felix seems determined enough in his direction for him not to start asking questions.

"What do you think?" Felix turns to him, eyes glistening. "You're more experienced than me."

"I only have one tattoo," Hyunjin says, his heartrate coming to a gradual sort of hull, the smoke filtering in and out of his lungs pacifyingly. "Just do whatever feels right."

"Yeah, but you have piercings too." His eyes flicker down momentarily to the small gemstones glimmering in the tiny, unbuttoned strip of skin of his waist, the three crystals dangling conspicuously from his belly button. Hyunjin smirks at the pouty expression adorning Felix's face. "I want one too."

"Then just do it. It's not a big deal."

"To me it is." Felix sighs heavily, an odd sort of grimace passing through him as they take a sharp turn. "My parents were super religious. Any sort of bodily alteration was strictly forbidden."

Hyunjin only hums. He doesn't like thinking about religion. "Well you're already a stripper, aren't you? Can't imagine they'd be more disappointed if you get a tattoo. Might as well commit to it."

Felix laughs, though it sounds a little too hollow if he strains his ears enough. "Yeah, you're right. It's not like we talk much anymore anyway."

Hyunjin doesn't say anything at that, his stomach gnawing uneasily from how dangerously close to uncomfortable this conversation is teetering. He doesn't need to hear about Felix's parents.

Luckily Felix perks up significantly as a small, glass-paneled building comes into view a few blocks outside the Strip, the large black sign stapled above the door flashing the name Sriracha Ink in curved, white letters. There's a drawing right next to it of three chili peppers dangling from their shared stem, the red color matching pleasingly with the red painted door frame below.

Felix shoots him a giddy, beaming smile as they make their way in, the atmosphere calm, relaxed and uncharacteristically clean with the amount of spacious design and vibrant greenery meticulously placed around.

Felix makes his way to the receptionist, a small twinkle in his eye before he asks him, "Is Changbin here today?"

Hyunjin's head whips around so fast he thinks he hears his neck practically threaten to fall off. "What?!" He hisses, grabbing Felix's arm as he forces him to look at him. "Changbin works here?!"

Felix stares at him with wide eyes, mouth opened slightly in shock as he starts nodding slowly. The receptionist arches a pierced eyebrow at them in amusement. "Yeah, I thought that was obvious. Weren't you there when we all talked about tattoos?"

Fuck. He'd completely forgotten about that. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind once. Hyunjin only grits his teeth in frustration, his grip loosening gradually as Felix only stares at him expectantly.

"Um." The receptionist pops his bubblegum obnoxiously, both of them immediately snapping their necks toward him at the noise. He looks entirely too disinterested. "Changbin is here today. Do you have an appointment?"

"Uh no, but we know each other," Felix explains awkwardly, clearly unsure of what he's supposed to do. "Does he have time for a tattoo right now? We both wanted to get one."

Fucking hell. Hyunjin thinks his head might start steaming from how loudly his chest pounds. He tries to compose himself, taking slow drags of his cigarette to try and calm down.

The receptionist gives him a bored, pointed look. "You can't smoke in here."

Hyunjin only laughs mockingly. This kid looks fresh out of high school, what the fuck is he gonna do? "Oh really, are you gonna stop me?"

The receptionist seems unimpressed, but his left eye twitches slightly. Felix stares at them nervously back and forth before letting out a brittle, apologetic sounding laugh before promptly snatching the cigarette from Hyunjin's hand and putting it out on the small ashtray by the desk. Hyunjin's eyes widen in indignation. The receptionist's expression doesn't change at all.

"What the fuck-"

"So, is anyone free to tattoo us?" Felix cuts him off, ignoring his shocked, bulging eyes as he smiles entirely too politely to the young man in front of them. The receptionist only cocks an eyebrow once again before checking something on his computer. Felix drums his fingers anxiously along the countertop.

"Yeah, two of our artists are free right now." He says before getting out of his chair and making his way around the desk, parting open the black fringe curtain separating the reception area from the tattoo lounge. "Yo, Jisung! Changbin! Customers!"

Felix flinches slightly from how loudly he yells but Hyunjin is too busy trying not to storm out with a heaving chest to notice.

"Tell them I'm busy!" An unfamiliar voice whines back from behind the curtains, nasally and almost childish, Hyunjin thinks. He nearly starts laughing at that, alleviating the anger in his body momentarily. "I just started a new anime!"

The receptionist only rolls his eyes, as if this were a common occurrence completely within the ordinary. "They can hear you dumbass!"

Felix stares wide-eyed at the curtains before breaking into a kind, almost shy grin the minute it parts, an all too familiar face greeting them in short-lived surprise before smiling back amusedly.

"Hey." Changbin approaches Felix cordially, giving a brief nod in Hyunjin's direction to acknowledge him. Hyunjin wants to gouge his fucking eyes out. "I didn't know you'd be here today."

"Yeah it was sort of a spontaneous, in the moment kind of thing." Felix beams at him brightly before clasping his hands together excitedly against his chest. "I haven't quite decided yet on what I'm gonna get."

The curtain parts yet again as a younger, beanie-clad man dressed in an oversized jersey and baggy jeans steps out, his neutral expression changing abruptly once he notices the two of them, eyes raking across him way too slowly to be inconspicuous. The man smiles brightly, seemingly entirely interested in doing his job. Hyunjin scoffs. He looks like a squirrel.

"I was just kidding about that earlier," He plays off, cheeks puffy as he tries to laugh nonchalantly. The receptionist rolls his eyes once again. "I'm not busy at all."

"Great!" Felix claps his hands together, completely delighted that everything seems to be panning out the way he'd hoped. Hyunjin narrows his eyes briefly, the thought that this had all been some elaborate trick crossing his mind. He starts chatting animatedly with Changbin, hands flying in all different directions no doubt trying to explain what he wants.

Squirrel dude approaches him with an air of clearly feigned casualness, reaching out a hand Hyunjin promptly ignores by crossing his own arms over his chest instead.

"I'm Jisung," He says, grin not faltering once despite Hyunjin's obvious disdain. "And uh that really was a joke by the way. I don't watch anime or anything like that."

"Hyunjin," He responds, his face twitching as he tries to keep it indifferent. He glances briefly toward Changbin, still entirely engrossed in whatever Felix is babbling on about. The urge to run away gets stronger by the second.

"Cool, cool," Jisung comments, his entire body practically buzzing with nerves. "How uh, do you know my man Changbin over here?"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. "Work."

Jisung seems confused for a short moment, eyebrows scrunched together quizzically before slackening all together as soon as realization dawns on him. Jisung gapes at him dumbly, though he isn't sure if it's in awe or in sheer disbelief.

He hears the receptionist snicker behind his desk and Jisung promptly shuts his mouth, cheeks reddening slightly as he shoots him a glare. Hyunjin bites the corner of his cheek in an attempt not to roll his eyes. Changbin must have told them about his little side gig.

"That's totally cool, super cool," Jisung says, body whirring even more than before as his eyes flit around all over the place. How old is this fucking kid anyway? "You're a dancer then?"

"Stripper," Hyunjin clarifies, sharp eyes impassive as he watches Jisung's face turn a dark shade of red. The receptionist laughs even louder then, not at all trying to be discreet about finding glee in his coworker's embarrassment.

"Shut up Jeongin," Jisung hisses quickly before plastering on another bright grin. "That's awesome. I've never met a stripper before."

"What a coincidence." Hyunjin looks him slowly up and down, uncrossing his arms and placing one of them on his hips instead. "I've never met an adult virgin before."

This time the receptionist, Jeongin, snorts so loudly even Felix and Changbin look up momentarily from their conversation, Jisung's face burning to hot, sizzling coals as he tries to play it cool, reaching up a hand to scratch at his nape sheepishly.

He gives an airy, nervous laugh as if the comment had not bothered him in the slightest. This could be fun actually, Hyunjin thinks. "Uh, so what tattoo were you thinking?"

Hyunjin purses his lips to ponder for a minute, though it really isn't necessary. He's spent many restless moments sketching small doodles in one of his old notebooks. "Something small on my lower back. A flower."

Jisung's mouth drops open. "You want a tramp stamp?"

Hyunjin only raises an eyebrow in response and Jisung promptly closes it, shrugging nonchalantly as he grins, yet his eyes seem more scattered with nerves and distress than ever.

"Yeah sure no problem, uh," Jisung looks him briefly up and down. Hyunjin tilts his head in confusion. His voice sounds uncharacteristically high. "Actually you know what? Changbin here is an expert at those."

Hyunjin frowns, his gut souring instantly. "Tramp stamps?"

"Flowers."

"Right."

Changbin, who's been looking at them ever since Jisung mentioned his name, strolls over and the two of them share a long, almost combative look. There's something Hyunjin clearly doesn't understand being communicated between the two of them, Jisung's pained eyes only reaching a twinged desperation as Changbin turns more and more exasperated.

Felix only looks at them quizzically before Changbin lets up, sighing deeply as he claps his hands together in finality, Jisung looking nearly overjoyed from relief. Something sickly punches waves in the pit of Hyunjin's stomach as Jisung walks over to Felix to begin discussing tattoo ideas, leaving only Changbin in his grimy, brooding wake.

Hyunjin doesn't know what to think, doesn't have time really, to allow his naturally scuttering mind unfreeze itself from a steady, vein-deep boiling anger in order to catch up. Changbin looks at him with hardened unease, expressionless almost, if it weren't for the small tick in his jaw clenching and unclenching like cogwheels rusted for far too long.

"Alright." His voice is hollow, traced clear of any emotion. Hyunjin can't tell if his slight inebriation is what makes it sound sluggish and hazy or if Changbin's tongue is simply too tied with built up resentment. "What were you thinking?"

Hyunjin tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he glares at a cheerful, albeit slightly confused looking Felix showing something on his phone to Jisung. "What just happened?"

"I'll be doing your tattoo now," Is all Changbin says, flat and frigid once again.

"Why?"

Changbin sighs frustratedly, hands twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. "Look, do you want a tattoo or not?"

"From you? No."

His eyebrows pinch together in frustration. "Then why are you here?"

Hyunjin nearly scoffs, crossing his arms together as his eyes bulge. "Because I thought I'd be getting it from Geek McGee over there."

Changbin only gives him a pointed look, although the corners of his lips threaten to tug upward. All of the sudden he simply puts an arm around his wrist, fingers wrapping tightly as he turns around and tugs Hyunjin along with him through the other side of the fringed curtain.

Hyunjin hardly has time to react before he's welcomed to a more spacious, more darkened area with tattoo chairs and workstations scattered all around. Hoards of meticulously detailed designs litter the walls amongst large, white neon signs creating the Vegas atmosphere he's very much become used to.

Changbin continues to drag him to one of the corners before letting go as he directs Hyunjin to a chair facing what he presumes to be his desk, sitting down on top of it before crossing his ink-littered arms in finality. Hyunjin only stares up at him stunned, mouth drooping in anger. "What the fuck?"

"Show me the design princess."

Hyunjin glares at him, his unbothered, impatient eyes as if dealing with that of a child making his skin burn.

Neither of them say anything for a while, the only sounds buzzing around them that of small, idle chatter from another tattoo artist working close by. Changbin doesn't let up, muscles stony and sharp in the sliver of light filtering across his face.

Hyunjin nearly grumbles out loud as he reaches into his bag and pulls out his notebook, cursing himself for needing to bring it everywhere he goes. He flips angrily through the pages, making far more noise than needed until he finally spots it, detailed sketch of the spotted tiger lily in full bloom surrounded by other small mindless doodles all smudging the pages.

Turning it around, he points at it aggressively as Changbin leans in to inspect it closer. His eyes uncloud for a moment as he takes it in, gently reaching for the notebook to examine it in the light. Hyunjin takes a brief second to scan the items scattered across his desk, sketchbooks upon sketchbooks piled on top of each other, some kind of strange, undecipherable figurine made of clay and an array of nicely framed photos, his eyes squinting to make out the pictures.

"Did you draw this?" Hyunjin whips his head up at the voice, Changbin already looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Yes." His answer comes out combative, aggressive almost.

Changbin stares at him amusedly, as if the situation is humorous to him. Hyunjin's mind seethes. It's anything but.

"Can I ask you something?" Hyunjin's about to roll his eyes before Changbin follows up hesitantly, not giving him room to answer. "Why are you always so defensive around me?"

Hyunjin only stares at him, mind whirring in surprise. He opens his mouth, unsure of what to say really, but once again Changbin beats him to it, sighing good-naturedly as he stands up and sits down behind his desk, filtering through his items to find some pencil and paper.

Hyunjin's eyes follow him instinctively, tongue dry and stuck to the bottom of his mouth as he remains silent, still. He wants to curse himself, not usually being so dithering in what to say. He blames the alcohol.

"It's really good," Changbin points out, gesturing to Hyunjin's sketch as he starts replicating it on his own paper. "I can definitely work with this. You wanted it on your lower back, right?"

Hyunjin nods, teeth biting the insides of his cheek.

"We can have the flower in the middle just like you drew it and then I'd suggest creating a sort of crest to protrude from each side with the stems and leaves." He filters through a few pages in one of his books before stopping, holding it up in order for Hyunjin to see. "Maybe something like this?"

The pages feature various, intricate designs of what are obviously intended to be tramp stamps, blooming flowers surrounded in full bloom by slopes of ornate floral swirls curving from each side, creating an adorned border of the lower back. They're pretty. Hyunjin almost wishes they weren't.

Begrudgingly he nods and Changbin gets to work sketching right away, leaving them in an awkward, tension-filled silence. Well awkward for Hyunjin maybe, who has nothing to occupy him with but his whispering, pouring mind. Changbin seems entirely too engrossed in his work to even notice he's sitting there.

His eyes wander back to the photos once again, something uncomfortable lodging itself in his gut as he makes out what's nestled inside the frames. A girl, young and with long, straight black hair in all of them, smiling just as widely and just as energetically in each one. Her hair is braided in the first photo, clad in a denim dress, blinky shoes and the most hideous striped stockings he's ever seen. In her hand she's holding a small gecko excitedly, her arms outstretched to show it to the camera.

She looks younger in the second one, though not by much, hair completely down this time with a pink stripe and large, glittery hair clips randomly scattered all over. She's positively beaming at the camera, one tooth missing and no doubt overjoyed by the lumpy, candle-littered chocolate cake right next to her.

Hyunjin glances up at Changbin, nose still buried in his sketch. Their resemblance is uncanny.

The last one is the one most clearly taken by a professional, classic blue background and toned-down smile with her pretty hair tucked behind both of her ears. Hyunjin can't tell if it's from school or from kindergarten.

"Is that your sister?" He asks, already knowing that it isn't.

Changbin looks up, momentarily confused before he glances at the photos and a warm smile lights his face up immediately. Hyunjin doesn't know why he asked, or why his gleaming eyes feel like needles puncturing his skin.

"No, that's my daughter." Changbin explains, mouth stretching widely. "Her name's Jia. She's five."

Hyunjin only nods, head tilting to the side. "Wait, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four." Changbin gives him a strange, sheepish smile. "Yeah, I was pretty young when she came along but she's without a doubt the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Hyunjin doesn't say anything to that, eyes diverting back to the pictures as Changbin finishes up his sketch. He can't even begin to imagine wanting a child, nevertheless at such an age. His mind practically screeches at him just imagining all the messes, grime and snot infecting his apartment. His body shudders.

They don't talk much after that, Changbin showing him the final sketch of the tiger lily before instructing him to lay down on one of the massage tables nearby after he agrees to it, his skin on fire as he tries not to think of all the unseen germs against the leather.

Whether from sheer force of will or the alcohol from early earlier, he manages to lay down with clenched teeth and restless hands as Changbin begins opening up new, sterilized needles in front of him.

Hyunjin lifts his shirt up slightly as he lies down on his stomach, grateful he's already wearing low-rise jeans once he feels the cold swab of antiseptic soap dabbing across his lower back. Changbin's hands are gentler than he expected as he begins to stencil the design onto his skin, moving in precise, curving motions.

Hyunjin tries not to squirm as soon as the actual needle punctures his skin, a prickling sensation spreading throughout his entire body. He welcomes it dully, head resting to the side against his arms as he stares into the wall. He can faintly hear Felix and Jisung discussing something in the background.

"Do you uh," Changbin starts, voice low and slightly suppressed with mirth, "want to know the real reason why Jisung didn't want to tattoo you?"

Because he thinks I'm disgusting. Dirtied by the hands of his job. Indented from gritty, sunless places. Hyunjin only laughs, grateful Changbin can't see the way his eyes harden immediately. "'Cause he wants to get into Felix's pants, I'm assuming."

Hyunjin can hear Changbin chuckle, his hand gripping onto the side of his waist to steady it. "No." A pause. "Well, he probably does but uh Jisung doesn't do well with costumers...how do I put this...with customers he thinks are hot."

Hyunjin stills, a string of laughter bubbling in his throat. "What?"

"Yeah, he gets distracted." Changbin's voice is clearly muffled from trying to hold in his own laughter. "One time he messed one up so bad, what was supposed to be this garden fairy ended up looking like a goblin instead. We had to redo it and everything."

Changbin squeezes his waist again, the needle stinging in a particularly painful slope. Hyunjin swallows a sharp gasp. "So he decided Felix was the safer option?"

"Felix is cute, sure..." Changbin says, voice trailing into incompletion as if trying to find the right words, "but Jisung gets more distracted by, you know, customers like you."

Hyunjin scoffs. "And what the hell does that mean?"

"Don't act like you don't know," Changbin mutters.

"Please elaborate."

"I think that's the first time I've heard you use the word 'please.'" He hears a satisfied hum from above him. Hyunjin rolls his eyes.

"That's funny cause I definitely remember asking Jinyoung to please fire you."

Changbin clicks his tongue. "You really wanna be saying all that to the guy puncturing your skin with permanent ink?"

Hyunjin only grumbles, lips pouting in frustration. He wishes he could stare him straight in his stupid face instead of glaring dismally at the wallpaper.

Changbin sighs from where he stands above him, Hyunjin already imagining him shaking his head in a begrudging compliance. "You come in here with your little belly ring and eyeliner talking about how you're a stripper and how you want a tramp stamp. Any slightly desperate man like Jisung would get intimidated."

Hyunjin bites down his smirk. "And you don't, huh?"

"Don't what?" Changbin mutters, fingers digging into his skin as the needle switches place. Something tingly spreads through him. He ignores it, refocusing on the pain instead.

"Get distracted."

"I'm a professional," Is all Changbin says, voice serrated in a low murmur of concentration.

"That wasn't my question."

Changbin doesn't respond, grabbing a hot towel instead as he begins to clean his inked strip of skin, each dab gentle and soft before putting it back in place, hands clapping loudly together so suddenly Hyunjin nearly jumps from the table. "There! All done. Do you wanna take a look before bandaging?"

He sits up immediately, Changbin inspecting his work proudly as he walks toward the mirror, turning around and twisting his neck to look down at the black-swirled sliver of skin right above the hem of his jeans. The tiger lily looks exactly like his own sketch, with serpentine floral borders curving from each side, each line just as meticulously done as the other.

Hyunjin feels a strange surge of gratification from seeing his own drawing imprinted on his skin. It looks good. He looks good.

"It's pretty," He says and it isn't much but it's all it takes for Changbin to look more than satisfied, humming contentedly as he starts fishing forward the ointment and bandages. Hyunjin sits down in one of the stools and leans his upper body across the massage table, back arching once he feels the cool swabs of ointment against his tattoo.

Once again Changbin is gentle, his touches so soft Hyunjin thinks he can hardly feel them at all. Still, he does. They burn like scorching sandstone against his skin.

He ignores it, letting down his shirt finally once the bandage is in place and nodding along robotically to Changbin's aftercare instructions, glancing over at Jisung finishing up in the corner with Felix lying flat on his back, a nervous, excited gleam twinkling in his eyes.

Hyunjin inspects it closely as soon as he's done, Felix buzzing with so much joy and exhilaration as he stares at in the mirror that he almost gets dizzy from the vigor. It's simple and small, two hummingbirds circling each other on the side of his left ribcage, beaks pointed toward each other in earnest.

"I love it!" Felix gushes, thanking a very pleased, almost embarrassed looking Jisung over and over again as if not used to such bouncy praise. Felix turns to him expectantly then, eyes wide and hopeful, eagerly awaiting his opinion.

"It's pretty," Hyunjin repeats, his head already beginning to sprain achingly from all the elation.

"Hummingbirds were my mother's favorite creature," Felix explains, turning back to Jisung to thank him again. Hyunjin frowns, bewilderment seeping into him. Why on earth would he get something to honor his mother if they don't have a good relationship?

They leave far later than Hyunjin would have preferred after Felix insists continuously on paying full price, to which he ultimately lets up on once he realizes Jisung won't let him. Hyunjin accepts the discount instantly, surprised that he was even offered one in the first place and the two of them leave finally once Hyunjin simply storms out the door, Felix catching up to him hurriedly as they walk together beneath the dulling warmth of a desert evening.

Hyunjin tries his best to engage half-heartedly in whatever Felix is saying, but his mind wanders to murky, root-jangled paths like the well-oiled cogs of his heart. He needs to shower, knows he needs to be gentler now, less scratchy and harsh against the newly, sensitive skin and yet he needs to feel clean, scrubbed red and raw and right.

His shower feels off as soon as he gets home, mind conflicted and bloody once he's done. It's okay. It's okay. Things are just, different, today. Because of his tattoo. He still showered, he's still clean. Yet his lungs are stuffed with cotton, heavy and obstructed as he tries not to choke.

He reads a bit, tracing the outline of inky pages as he tries to concentrate, distract him really from the lead bubbling in his chest. Lolita does nothing to make breathing easier and so he simply puts it away after a while. It's just a book. He doesn't care. It has nothing to do with him anyway.

Dinner is dinner, a chore really, as he forces himself to eat his dry cereal from where he sits himself down on the floor, back rested against the couch. Usually he's hungry. Right now he just feels sick. He munches on it half-heartedly, jaw aching from how slowly he chews.

Then, sleep. Something prickles at his nerves just thinking about it. He doesn't need more nightmares and sweaty, panic drenched sheets. It's okay. Hyunjin doesn't usually dream. There isn't much to dream about and so he lies there heavy and tied to the mattress, bones gnawing from how still he forces himself to be, from how his muscles strain him so. He glances at the clock, large red digital letters flickering in an aching, torturous pace. It's a long while until 3AM, until he can finally sleep for good.

Even then Hyunjin knows it's something of great toil, a hopeless pinprick on the horizon that never comes easily. He glances toward his bedroom door, heart plunging into his stomach. This is ridiculous. He can't see anything but the blinking letters anyway, in the darkness.

He's far from home, realistically he knows that. He knows nobody will open the door, knows the only thing keeping him awake is the childish superstition of idle, meagre letters. Yet in the swathing lack of light and sick, sick feeling of his gut, Hyunjin can't tell the difference between home and actuality. He thinks the word 'home' feels like a poor, stabbing joke anyway.

Still he waits, eyes darting from the clock to the door, nervous, aching from what awaits him on the other side. He knows there's nothing. Hyunjin swallows, head leaking with a familiar, flesh-rotted smell. He's wrong. Hyunjin's never known anything.

Notes:

noo the bird cage scene is definitely not me projecting my victoria’s secret angel fantasies onto hyunjin 😫 🤭

thank you so much for reading💕

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 3: A Scorpion’s Lullaby

There’s a large, thick-spined oak tree in the courtyard of his school by the fence with lengthy, outstretching branches that sometimes look like spidery fingers if he stares at it for long enough. Hyunjin likes sitting by the tree, especially during their lunch break. It’s his favorite place in the whole wide school, he thinks. Luckily the teachers allow them to eat lunch outside. Unless it’s raining.

Hyunjin prefers it, even when he has to be extra careful sitting on the grass not to get his hands or legs dirty, even more so when he's wearing shorts. Bugs are also something he watches out for, their tiny, scuttling legs keeping him alert, vigilant beneath the sun. Hyunjin hates sitting in the cafeteria, with the other kids. They're too loud, he thinks, too rowdy and messy and mean. Especially some of them.

He tries to avoid them, but the boys his age are fast and vicious and always seem to catch up to him no matter what. Hyunjin would rather be by himself anyway, tucked neatly away by the wide trunk of the looming oak. It is a bit lonely, mostly because he doesn't dare bring Bunny to school, too afraid of what would happen should anyone else find him. Hyunjin doesn't want to think about what he would do without his best friend.

And so he eats his lunch in silence, opening his lunchbox nervously as his fingers drum along the plastic lid, stomach gnawing in unease. Hyunjin's stomach always feels like that, tied in uncomfortable knots. He hates it, even more so when the feeling spreads throughout his chest and legs too once he stares into its emptiness.

Nothing, today. Hyunjin's lower lip wobbles slightly, trying not to feel disappointed. He'd been bad yesterday. He should have seen it coming.

His mother used to tell him that he couldn't expect lunch every day, not when food was so expensive. Hyunjin nodded, yes, he understood that. But Hyunjin knew they had more crackers and string cheese. He'd checked their cupboards in the morning, when his mother was in the bathroom showering.

He was too young for grown up food, knew that it was a waste of money for him to eat breads and meats every day when cereal and gummies were enough. Still he would look sometimes, when his stomach would throb in an aching, punching hunger, at the other kid's lunchboxes, surprised, confused. They all ate sandwiches, fruits, salads and a bunch of other things Hyunjin didn't even know what was.

He assumed they had more money, yes that was probably it. Yet he wondered if they were ever bad like him. Hyunjin tried, he really did, and still his mother would remind him day after day that he was a rotten, rotten child. Hyunjin didn't get food when he was bad and yesterday he had been terrible, crying and yelling when he wouldn't get a second piece of chicken after he finished his first one. He didn't mean to, he really didn't, he was just so hungry, the tears spilling over before he had a chance to stop them.

He was being selfish wanting the last piece of chicken. Hyunjin knew he was, guilt flooding him instantly. His step-father needed it more than him, even if he was already full. For tomorrow, his mother explained.

Hyunjin looks down into his empty lunchbox, rubbing furiously at his eyes as he tries to think of something else. Hyunjin hates lunchbreak when there's nothing to eat, fingernails scratching harshly at his legs instead, impatient for the bell to ring.

He's learned his lesson today, eating quietly at the dinner table, his stomach rumbling loudly as they say prayer. He ignores it, chewing slowly on his mac and cheese without complaints. His mother doesn't yell at him then and Hyunjin is grateful, even when it hurts going to bed.

Next day, at school, he opens his lunchbox once again with nerves bubbling in his gut. It's raining today, so he sits with his head hung low in one of the cafeteria corners, hoping to go the day unnoticed. His wish remains fruitless, as it usually does, the minute he hears cruel snickering filter from behind him, taunting whispers growing louder and louder by the second.

Hyunjin squeezes his eyes shut, heart pounding erratically against his ribcage as he wraps his arms around himself, pleading, praying desperately to God for them to leave him alone. He should know by now to stop indulging in illusions, something wet and cold trickling down his forehead forcing his eyes to pop open in pearly terror. God never answers his prayers anyway.

Hyunjin shrieks as he can feel the clear, white milk being poured right on top of his head, his lungs gasping for relief from how loudly he wails. Pure, gleaming horror surges straight through him as the liquid continues to pour, smelly, horrid fluid sticking to his clothes, wetting his skin and leaving a reeking, acrid smell clinging to his body.

For the seconds of what seem like the wickedness of an eternity, Hyunjin does nothing but let his dread encompass him, frozen in shock beneath the laughter that surrounds his table as it rings viciously in his ear.

Then, as soon as panic begins to settle, Hyunjin grabs his lunchbox, backpack and runs out of the cafeteria as quickly as his rattled bones will let him, tears streaming down his face as the reality of what happened seeps into him. Oh God, oh God, oh God, he's covered in filth, in disgusting, smelly milk that will rot his flesh forever and he's going to be so, so, so dirty, imprinted in grimy stickiness and a horrible, horrible stench!

Hyunjin drops to his knees as soon as he's by the oak tree, painful sob racking through his body as he clutches desperately at his chest. He can't breathe, he really can't breathe, mouth opening and closing frantically in hysteria. He really can't breathe!

He thinks he can feel his leg begin to bleed, undoubtedly having scratched against something when he fell. All of the sudden Hyunjin opens his mouth, wraps his hands around his throat and screams for the first time in what he thinks to be his entire life, throat raw and aching as he does so, his lungs constricting so tightly he thinks they matter shatter for good.

Finally, he can breathe. And so he screams and screams and screams until something makes him choke, his mouth coughing up small droplets of blood against the grass. Hyunjin's chest steadies slowly, his hands shaking once he finally looks up. He'd forgotten it was raining, his clothes drenched in water and hair sticky against his forehead. Hyunjin doesn't like the rain, but this time he welcomes it, grateful, relieved that the foul smell of milk was being washed away.

His sobbing withers down to small, pitiful sniffles after a while once he convinces himself that there's no more dirt scratching at his skin. He's clean, he's clean. It's okay now, he thinks. It's okay. He leans his back against the trunk of his tree, exhausted and drained of all energy. His vision goes momentarily white.

Hyunjin exhales in trembles, his fingers reaching for his lunchbox as he opens the lid for the first time that day. He can hardly believe his eyes, sharp gasp escaping him as he looks down. A sandwich, a whole one too with carrots and a cookie right next to it. He blinks, rubbing his eyes profusely. It's still there when he opens them again.

There's a note, Hyunjin notices, taped to the inside of the lid. He recognizes the handwriting, heart thrumming wildly against his chest. A small smile threatens to spill across his face, the lead in his stomach easing away the longer he stares at it. 'To my pretty little dove, don't tell your mother.'

There's a small, curving heart scribbled at the end. Hyunjin beams, hold on the note so tight he fears it may come tumbling away with the harsh wind of the rain. He pockets it safely, careful to protect it. He can't wait to show Bunny.

He reads it again the next day and the next and the next.

 

-

 

It isn't long until the preparation of the upcoming magazine shoot finalizes itself and though Jinyoung seems to have kept most of the details to himself - whether out of lack of information or in a strange method of psychologically keeping them on their toes, Hyunjin doesn't know - he's been made sure everything will be taken care of.

What he does know is the location being on the outskirts of the city to which Felix had positively beamed 'desert shoot!' as Minho had rolled his eyes.

Hyunjin supposes the good thing about shooting in the desert is that the sweat, vigor and sandy snapshots will be perfect for encompassing the spicy heatwaves of his Nevada dolls. More like playthings, Hyunjin thinks, although he'd kept his mouth shut as Jinyoung described them as such. The bad thing, which had had him in a searing headache ever since he found out, was getting there.

A few hours outside the city and the magazine company had been gracious enough to send them all in a van - one stupid, idiotic, perfectly fit for five people van. Hyunjin wanted to scream the moment he had stepped inside, the urge to throw the sunglasses perched on his forehead rising to a breaking point as he spots, seated at the far end chatting animatedly to a chipper as always Felix, his bodyguard.

He doesn't even bother gracing him with his name, his gut brewing with far too much rage already to make the effort. Hyunjin sits down sullenly across from them next to Jinyoung whom he very pointedly gives his most sharpened glare. "What is he doing here?" He hisses, crossing his arms as Jinyoung sighs loudly in a tethered sort of frustration, almost as if he'd already been expecting it.

Both Changbin and Felix's heads turn to look at them, Felix's expression falling immediately into a small, disappointed pout. Changbin only rolls his eyes. Fucking asshole.

"Hyunjin," Jinyoung grits through a forced, strained smile. "Don't."

"No, I wanna know why he's coming to a shoot in the literal desert," Hyunjin seethes. "You think my stalker's going to be hiding there behind a cactus or something?"

Jinyoung's smile remains indifferently plastered on his face, the words seeping through his clenched teeth like thick, cutting grains of sand. "Hyunjin, please shut up."

"No, I want to know-"

Jinyoung's eyes flicker exasperatedly to both Changbin and Felix right across from them, clearly wanting to avoid a huge argument. "I'll discuss it with you later."

Hyunjin's chest flares. He's far too sober for this. "We're gonna discuss it now-"

"I think we should discuss the shoot!" Felix beams at them brightly, his hands clapping together in enthusiasm. Hyunjin can still detect a speck of apprehension behind the cheeriness of his voice. "Isn't it exciting?"

"Felix stay out of it!" Hyunjin shoots him an edged, dirty look to which his small frame visibly shrinks, making him look even tinier in the oversized white shirt clinging to his body. The van feels way too small, each and every single stare pointed his way thick and suffocating in the air around them.

Something blazes within Changbin's eyes as he looks up at him, jaw set and eyebrows furrowed in determination. "Hey, don't get mad at him."

Hyunjin swallows the urge to scoff, only shooting him a bitter, sarcastic smile instead. "You're right. I'm not mad at him, I'm mad at you. Why the fuck are you here?" Even though a week has already passed, the tattoo on his lower back burns achingly against his skin, the reminder of his touch like a bruise incapable of fading. Hyunjin wants to peel it right off. "This is probably gonna take all day, what about your daughter huh? Shouldn't you be to taking care of her?"

Changbin's scowl deepens, eyes forming into tiny slits of pure fury. Felix looks between them nervously. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my daughter, she's fine."

"Really?" Hyunjin laughs in disbelief, the black turtleneck he's wearing starting to itch for the very first time. "How is that if you're always working day and night?"

He can feel Jinyoung shift uncomfortably next to him as a sturdy hand grips his arm "Hyunjin-"

"That's none of your business!" Changbin yells, face contorted into one of poorly concealed rage. Clearly he'd hit a nerve. Hyunjin smiles.

Jinyoung's grip on his arm tightens substantially before Hyunjin forcibly shrugs it off. He lowers his voice, sharp glare boring into his own. "You're acting like a child, cut it out."

Hyunjin opens his mouth, tongue propelling forward a rage-induced answer his mind has yet to formulate until Jinyoung's loud, overexaggerated sigh cuts him off. "Now where the fuck is Minho?"

The van still remains frustratingly empty of the one person they're waiting for until they can leave, parked right outside the curb of the club with the driver impatiently drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. A sudden gust of billowing wind streams through the opened sliding door. Hyunjin diverts his gaze away from Changbin, muttering under his breath, "Probably OD'd somewhere in a ditch."

Suddenly the door slams shut with a force far too hasty as a barely put-together Minho filters into the seating area, sitting down at the very far end between Jinyoung and Changbin. Hyunjin gives him a distasteful once-over, his nose scrunching in disgust at the haphazardly thrown on sweats he's wearing, his crossed arms tightening substantially as nails dig into his skin.

Minho, obviously not impressed with the blatant display of spite, merely rolls his eyes in return. "Jesus, what kind of major bitch pill did you take this morning?"

"Alright, everybody's here," Jinyoung booms excitedly, not so discreetly cutting off a very seething Hyunjin leaning forward and about to start opening his mouth. "So, the concept of the shoot is-"

"Can you for once in your life be a professional?" Hyunjin hisses through grit teeth, eyes serrated and cold in the wake of Minho's indifferent expression.

He tilts his head as if confused, eyes scanning him up and down with a slow smirk forming across his lips. "Oh that's rich coming from you."

Hyunjin ignores the deep sigh next to him as Jinyoung buries his face into his hands. The car jolts all of the sudden, finally moving in what can only be the most torturous car ride in the history of his stretching, sun-wilting life. Hyunjin's chest burns. "You're always late, you dress you like you don't care-"

"Dressing will be provided on set, Hyunjin," Jinyoung interrupts, the lines on his forehead much deeper beneath the dome lights than he would have anticipated. Felix looks at them with wide-blown eyes, clearly preparing for an upcoming argument. Changbin, still disgruntled from earlier only peers up with a mild sense of intrigue.

"You're talking as if you're not high every shift," Minho spits, brown strands falling in front of his face like fringe curtains fluttering in the wind.

Hyunjin scoffs. "Don't act like you're not drunk most of the time-"

"And," Minho cuts him off, voice sharp and laced with something rotten, "you're sleeping with the boss."

Hyunjin can feel Jinyoung tense up immediately next to him, eyes wide and alarmed. Felix looks positively frightened now, back so straight it would have been comical if not for the blistering tension overflowing around them. Changbin's eyebrow piques in an unnerving sense of concern. Hyunjin doesn't know what to make of it, too stunned from Minho's smirking, malicious face.

"Kinda funny isn't it?" He continues, reveling in the abrupt, hostility-woven silence. "He gets to fuck you and you get free coke. Now I don't know what the technical term for that would be, but that kind of sounds like a different kind of job...what do they call it again?"

Jinyoung leans forward, tone of an unusual gravity. "That isn't what this is-"

Hyunjin cuts him off, mind seething furiously as his tongue smolders to cinders. "You're just jealous and bitter because you know you will never be a better performer, you will never reach that number one spot. Your mom was a crack whore and you're going to end up just like her!"

"Whoa Hyunjin-"

Minho's lips fall into a malicious sneer, corner of his mouth tugging up into a poorly concealed grin. "Yeah yeah, you act all high and mighty like you're better than us because guys are a little more willing to pay to see you bend over. Face it, the only star you'll ever be is porn star."

Hyunjin stands up so abruptly he almost falls forward as the car takes a sharp turn, his arms reaching forward in balled, rage induced fists as he practically clambers over Jinyoung's legs, ears ringing with the vicious pounding of blood before sturdy hands grip his shoulders, broad chest obscuring his view.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Changbin exhales, clutch tightening as Hyunjin thrashes in his hold, fists hitting his chest desperately in a futile, almost pitiful attempt at ripping free. "Just calm down okay?"

Hyunjin doesn't let up, his chest swelling in hot, pulsating waves of fury, body pointlessly flailing against Changbin's as Minho's words scratch viciously through his already far too indented craters. Changbin nearly wrestles him down back into his own seat although it isn't much of a competition, his arms nearly the size of Hyunjin's head.

Jinyoung quickly gets up to sit next to Felix, neck bending uncomfortably as he tries to avoid hitting the roof of the car, Changbin taking his place instead. Hyunjin simmers down just slightly, wrenching his arms away from Changbin once his grip loosens, head turned to the side to scorchingly pierce the backside of the driver instead.

"So that's why he's here," Felix says, smile awkward and tight as if trying to lighten the tension.

He can hear Minho stifle a laugh and his jaw clicks in vexation, arms back to being crossed as his eyes blink rapidly. Hyunjin doesn't say anything after that, the slight unfurling of an itch long since engraved into his flesh becoming absolute; stretching and jabbing into his skin as he sits there idly bathed in its open wounds. The car feels entirely too stuffy, riddled with a hot, thick, germ-compressed air, the muted sound of aimless conversation muffled and strangled against his ear.

He can vaguely feel Changbin shift next to him and Hyunjin shudders, head ringing as his arms tighten against each other, the sudden need to be alone and drenched in soap and blood overwhelming him by the second. The leather seat feels sticky against his legs, even though he's wearing pants, his turtleneck prickling his skin until his chest starts to ache; suffocating, leaking.

Hyunjin has become good at not letting words with shadows repeat endlessly in the caverns of his head, has learnt to discard of them, replace them instead with other, more important thoughts, thoughts of cleaning, scratching, pretty white lines, of threes - his clover of habits, each leaf harshly plucked off until he's ready to find a new, one, two, three, one, two, three.

Luckily for Hyunjin three-leafed clovers aren't hard to come by, especially the ones that grow so sweetly in his own lungs.

He recognizes the low, guarded rumble of conversation filter throughout the remainder of the car ride, words slow and far too wrapped in something sweltering for Hyunjin to understand them, neck intently trained to the side as he stares into nothingness. He supposes they're discussing the shoot, his mind busying itself instead with tiresome repetitions curving inside his head.

Unbound from his habits and his coke, Hyunjin can only think, his jaw clenching as he tries to soothe the rising fury smoldering his chest. One, two, three. It takes approximately six sets of threes between every sign he can discern from outside the window. One, two, three, one, two, three- They begin to stretch out. Hyunjin supposes it's because they're reaching the outskirts, signs of life breeding scarce. Counting turns sluggish then, the roads unfolding in barren, dry strips of sands.

Porn star? Hyunjin wants to shove something large and serrated down Minho's throat. He starts counting the cactuses instead. One, two, three, four. The small blinking of light from a rickety video camera flashes in his eyes.

The cactuses begin doubling now, the van speeding past them all before Hyunjin has a chance to count each one. He bites the inside of his cheek until it starts to ache. It isn't his first time, he knows what to do, perched docilely on his bed.

Hyunjin starts pinching his forearm discreetly instead, counting each time he does it religiously. One, two, three. The lace feels soft against his skin, new and pretty with a little white bow on top. Hyunjin tugs it off seductively, staring into the camera.

Again, repeat. One, two, three. His flesh blooms small red patterns all over. Hyunjin does as he's told. Because he's good. Of course he's good. He grins, flashing his teeth at the fluttering light. He's the best.

His stomach lurches, his skin on fire as he looks down at his arm, red rashes littered with small, harsh bumps from his fingernails. As long as he doesn't have to watch it afterward, he doesn't mind. He'd gotten sick the last time. Hyunjin draws a sharp breath, his hands trembling until all of the sudden a sharp jolt snaps him out of his thoughts, the van's tires screeching as it comes to an abrupt stop.

He twists his neck toward the window, the large expanse of the desert wafting in dry, repetitious ripples before them, shrubs and red colored rocks filling the horizon like small seeds of life in an unrelenting vastness. Multiple trailers and camera equipment have already been set up, people milling about in an enthusiastic sort of frenzy, wardrobe racks flying back and forth as a woman with poorly bleached hair scrutinizes every piece intently.

The door to the van flies open immediately as Jinyoung filters out, Felix and Minho following suit. Hyunjin can feel Changbin stare at him for a moment, undoubtedly trying to gauge his mood but he refuses to turn his head. In the end he hears but a tired sigh next to him as Changbin too, walks out of the car, the door closing gently behind him.

Still the sound is enough to dampen the blood rushing through his ears, his legs determined and brisk as he steps into the scorching embrace of that ill-fated southwestern sun, the warmth blanketing him in the familiarity of a stifling embrace.

Hyunjin follows the others toward the center of the shoot, noticing for the first time a brown horse tied to the rail of what seems to be a constructed wall imitating a modern saloon, a Coca-Cola cooler and various dispensers sticking out from the poster-littered backdrop. Western themed, no doubt.

Jinyoung greets a slightly older man with peppered-hair and thick rimmed glasses amicably as he lingers behind with Felix and Minho. Felix's eyes flit with excitement all over the place, whilst Minho's remain indifferent. Changbin is the only person he can't read, a little behind them now. Reserved, guarded. Hyunjin wonders if his comment about his daughter had left him cagey.

His jaw clenches, a sharp gust of wind blowing sand uncomfortably into his face. The peppered-man starts to look at them now, his eyes widening and smile bright as he steps toward them and introduces himself as the main editor in chief. He rambles on about how great of a fit they'd all be, about the excitement of being part of something new, blah, blah. Jinyoung only looks at them eagerly, almost as if proud of himself for having collected them. Hyunjin's gut sours even further.

He ignores it, lets himself be directed toward a trailer for wardrobe and makeup as the editor tries to explain his vision. Hyunjin only nods along, mind still too scattered to fully pick up the pieces.

The trailer is somewhat small and cramped and Hyunjin casts an almost despairing look toward Jinyoung as the door closes behind him, leaving him alone in a clothing-hanger filled cavern. Small seeds of panic start to furrow inside his chest. Is Jinyoung really going to make him do this sober?

The door opens abruptly shortly after, but his disappointment remains imminent as from the sudden sunlight emerges not Jinyoung, but the bleached blonde woman he'd spotted from before. Hyunjin forces himself to smile as she greets him, reaching forward immediately to start fishing forward the correct outfit.

She tells him he'll be trying two outfits, one more tasteful and one more provocative. Of course. Hyunjin nods along almost robotically to her explanations before she finally leaves him alone to change, his head light and feathery and far too tethered to somewhere else.

He shimmies into his denim jeans, the waistline low and buckled with a large, clunking belt, the metal centerpiece undoubtedly shining strongly beneath the welcoming of the sun. Then, a light denim shirt that billows in the nonexistent wind, the buttons left open as each side is tucked into the waistline of his pants.

Hyunjin can spot the gleaming ring from his belly button in the large vanity mirror, pearly and white against tanned, spotless skin. He pulls on his brown leather cowboy boots, the embroidery curving and looping romantically against the front and back shaft, almost a sharp dissonance from the rather menacing silver spurs attached above the heel.

Hyunjin takes a step back, his eyes flitting up and down in the mirror, nearly unable to recognize himself. He's about to start walking toward the makeup trailer, nerves rattled and strewn all over the place. This isn't him, he's a professional.

Grumbling to himself he takes a quick scan around the cramped space protecting him from the swelling heatwaves, checking every drawer, every cabinet, every little nook he can find in a gradually rising franticness. There's nothing. No coke, no Adderall, no alcohol. Not even fucking weed. Hyunjin exhales, pinching his forehead as the slow buildup of a migraine starts to welcome him, hands searching desperately for his cigarettes. Fuck. They were still in Vegas, right?

A soft knock draws him out of his thoughts once again and Hyunjin's heart quickens as he listens to Jinyoung's muffled voice on the other side asking to come in. Thank God.

Relieved, invigorated, Hyunjin opens the door all too enthusiastically as Jinyoung steps inside, his eyes flitting across him up and down in the not-so-subtle way of the egoistic.

"Wow," Jinyoung says, closing the door behind him as a large grin snakes his way across his face. "You look amazing."

He steps closer, calloused hands grabbing at his waist immediately, like second nature fitting perfectly into its mold. Hyunjin tilts his neck upward to look him in the eye, arms looping around his neck as he smirks.

"I knew you would, of course," Jinyoung continues, hold tightening momentarily as he squeezes harshly at his waist. "The editor thinks so too, by the way. He was thrilled when he saw you. Told me your pictures didn't do you justice."

"Is that so?" Hyunjin angles his head to the side, eyes playful, grin inviting. He needs that fucking coke.

Jinyoung only hums in agreement, cornering him slowly against the wall as his fingers start to graze against the bare expanse of skin left open by his shirt. "Too bad we don't have much time right now."

Hyunjin squeezes his arm seductively, leaning closer to whisper sensually against his neck. The scent of cedar wood and narcissus flower momentarily overwhelms him, a jarring, pleasant smell in the backdrop of desert-sown barrenness. "Isn't that why you came?"

Jinyoung puts one of his hands beneath his chin, tilting it up to look at him. Hyunjin's eyes widen in glossy uncertainty. Jinyoung only smiles. "I came to check up on you."

Hyunjin can feel something painful clench in his jaw. "What?"

"To see if you were okay," He explains, as if there was nothing more plain to be said. "After the car ride?"

Hyunjin scoffs, the urge to rip away his hand growing stronger and stronger by the second. The palm feels itchy against the skin of his jaw. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure, because I'll talk to Minho-"

Hyunjin cuts him off, impatience brewing dangerously within him. He can feel the ache in his head begin to unfurl itself once more. "Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

Jinyoung blanches, eyebrows pinched together in momentary confusion. Something unreadable swivels in his eyes as he stares him down, his face hardening and tone firm. "No."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes then and pushes him away, stepping in front of the mirror instead to inspect his outfit. He dusts off his shirt slightly, Jinyoung's eyes burning like fiery grains of sand into his back. Hyunjin doesn't look at him. "Fine, then give me the coke so we can get this shit over with already."

"Hyunjin, I'm not giving you coke."

That makes him turn around, neck whipping so fast he swears he can feel something snap. "What?"

Jinyoung only stares at him exasperatedly, as if already preparing himself for the worst. "I can't give you coke here, this isn't my set okay? You're just gonna have to deal with it today."

Hyunjin can feel the rage from the car ride begin to titter across his chest one more, his face screwing up into one of desperate indignation. "But they'll never know!"

"I'm not taking that risk." Hyunjin knows those eyes boring into him, resilient and final. He thinks his hands might start shaking again. "I signed a contract."

"But that's our deal!" He yells, closing the gap between them with far too much aggression, unsure, unaware really of what he intends to do, the fire scorching his throat becoming far too boiling in the swells of its own confinement.

Jinyoung places both of his hands on either side of his arms, clearly intending to calm him down but Hyunjin rips himself forcibly from his grip, feet scrambling backward until he hits the edge of a cupboard and steadies himself, eyes sharp and covered in something dark and sticky, tar oozing from his tear ducts. Hyunjin can imagine how they would look, black streaks running down his skin, sick, sick taste feeding his tongue. He shudders, body cold despite the sweltering heat.

Jinyoung looks at him with wide, apprehensive eyes, forehead creased in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Just give me the fucking coke Jinyoung!" A quick glance in the mirror and Hyunjin bites down on his cheek immediately, teeth metallic and edged. There's nothing running down his face, skin as gleaming and ready for the stage lights as ever. He swore he could have felt something there. Dirt. Soil. He only shakes his head. God, he hates being sober.

Jinyoung seems to snap out of his momentary distress the minute Hyunjin's seething fury encompasses him entirely, his head shaking in disbelief, arms crossed sternly against each other. "No, see this is why I brought Changbin here today."

"What?" Hyunjin thinks his head might come bursting out of its skin any minute now.

Jinyoung's words are marred with subtle anger, rationality steady still as if dealing with someone insolent, too fueled by emotions to understand them fully. "I didn't know how you would handle it and frankly, I can't say I'm very impressed."

"So he is a babysitter!" Hyunjin wants to rip his own hair out, hands flying all over the place as he lets his incense run wildly.

"No-"

"Yes he is, oh my god." He steps closer now, the narrowness of the trailer keeping their faces only inches apart. Hyunjin hopes Jinyoung can feel the spit rippling from his tongue. "You don't think I can do my job without supervision?!"

Jinyoung's eyes are bulging by now, jaw clenching and unclenching at a rapid, wrenching speed. "You tried to attack Minho in the van!"

"He deserved it!" Hyunjin screams, teeth grit and ready to tear something apart as he seethes. "I can't fucking believe this."

"You're being irrational-"

"So you hired a fucking babysitter!" Hyunjin can feel the crashing, gruesome overflowing of tidal waves as the chalky foam meets jagged edges, his marrows soaking all of which he bleeds in that painful, indented way he spent far too many years swallowing in quietude.

Jinyoung threads into him things he can merely see, but never touch. Constraint, logic, thoughts and words free from the pulsing swells of his own bloodied rage. It infuriates him endlessly.

"He's not-"

Hyunjin shoves his hands against his chest, futile really but Jinyoung's face still screws up in surprise, taken aback and slowly matching his own ruptured fury. "Don't lie to me you asshole-"

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to if you weren't such a fucking child!"

Fissures, tons of them, in the seams of his muscles, his jaw, the twitch of his mouth. His eyes. Hyunjin stares into them emptily, gut-wrenching kernels bursting inside of him at the thought of ever having touched such a man. He knows with the next turning of moonlight, the next promise of snow, he'll come crawling back like the bugs back home. Scuttling and starved.

But for now Hyunjin simply says nothing, eyes cold and steely as they stare right back at the man who had saved him from the ceaseless low-end strips clubs beneath an Arizona night - savior, cursor, Hyunjin doesn't know which - before he shoves his way past him, slamming the door to the trailer shut as hard as he can, knuckles white and scalding the moment he's out.

Ignoring the heat and sudden welcoming of sun, Hyunjin makes his way to the makeup trailer, lets the stylist fuss and touch incessantly as they make him ready, covering him in creams and eyeliner, foundation for his butterfly tattoo, anything to cover his dark, leaking wounds that blemish flesh all too strikingly.

A child? Hyunjin stares at his own dolled up reflection, eyes sharpened and honed to cut, burning with years and years of an anger that never rests. He doesn't think he's ever been a child.

Jinyoung doesn't know what he's talking about. With a white leathered cowboy hat on long strands of unruly, yet perfectly kept slivers of blackness, Hyunjin walks out into the open desert field, body alit with a newfound conviction, desperate, hungry to prove him wrong. He knows he looks good, a hard, uncut gem in the spotlight of frayed and rickety backdrops, the droplet of color in an expanse of sand. Shining, gleaming.

He thinks despite having grown up on the ridged backs of the Southwest, he knows nothing of its treasures, only pain, barrenness, trails of smudge from the imprints of his feet. The Sun. And yet in the wake of watchful cameras and grasping, itchy eyes, small, pitiful moths to a gasoline flame, Hyunjin fluoresces in pearls of gold, Jewel of the West, with every turn and sacrifice of his body.

The cameras will never do enough to capture his beauty, Hyunjin knows it, Jinyoung knows it, everybody on set watching intently as he poses on the vintage deck of the old saloon knows it, can feel within them the hot, burning coils of the sun as he stretches his arm against the pillar, other hand on his waist, fingers dipping into the waistline of his jeans, belly ring beaming like a beacon in the midst of swathing hues of sandstone.

Hyunjin can imagine how his silhouette paints itself in the shadows, masculine, powerful, tilt of the hat draped in inviting mystery. The camera pans closer, close up shots of what he imagines to be his waist, denim blue alluring against tanned expanse of skin, taut and hallowed.

Hyunjin doesn't focus on who's watching him, could care less really if Jinyoung or Changbin or Minho soak him in with their own scrutinizing eyes, judgement unraveling at the seams as he poses and spreads himself thin across the desert. They'll all see the finished photos anyway, see loud and clear who graces the cover, who remains on top. Sober or not.

The photographer circles him closer, handing him an old fake revolver but Hyunjin grabs it eagerly, mind far too smoldering to care for unseen germs this time, his skin electric, buzzing with a need for vengeance. Fuck Jinyoung. The editor looks at him enthusiastically, grin wide and unsettling but Hyunjin can appreciate a crazed artist with a muse as yielding as him.

"Pose with it."

Hyunjin closes his eyes, blissed out, and licks his tongue across the steel barrel, the sun burrowing into him with oppressive heat, sweat dripping down his forehead. He continues to lick it, reveling in the metallic taste with an almost masochistic sense of gratification, lips moving in pure, dirtying, carnal desire.

Hyunjin opens his eyes, hooded and dark, staring directly into the camera as his tongue swirls along the muzzle, ravenous, greedy in such canyoned barrenness. There's nothing more human, more religious than lust - this he knows, a fact spiked into his veins from the moment he was born. With the gun to his mouth, Hyunjin thinks he does Tiger Lily justice, toying with the line of danger in the self-destructive journey to absolution.

He'll purge himself of uncleanliness with the birth of the moon, but here, dirty, sweaty, enchanting, he hopes the sun is watching intently. Everyone else seems to be at least, as soon as the editor claps his hands loudly, the camera lowering as a large beam flickers across the pepper-haired man's face. "That was perfect!"

Jinyoung should worship the ground he walks on, Hyunjin thinks as he walks back to the trailer to change into the other outfit, for the undeserving paycheck he's about to receive. He spots him on the way back, clearly trying to get his attention but Hyunjin pointedly ignores him, boots determined as they make their way forward, confident, unwavering.

He can feel a myriad of eyes trail after him as he opens the door, shutting it closed as he smirks quietly to himself. Carefully, he rids himself of the clothes, mind whirring with the speed of rusty cogs gone haywire.

He spots the other outfit laid out on the couch in front of him immediately. The provocative one. Hyunjin grins. It's simple really, simple and wholeheartedly true to the rustic enticement of a American beauty. A pair of small, denim shorts and a white blouse along with cream-colored, meticulously embroidered cowboy boots.

Hyunjin had been given clear instructions on how to wear the second outfit. He ignores them, pulling on the shorts and boots before looking himself in the mirror as he slips on the blouse. He curls the cuffs so that the sleeves become shorter, tying the front into a tight knot along his midriff, leaving the buttons undone.

Abandoning the cowboy hat this time, Hyunjin styles his hair on his own, dragging his hands through it wildly to give the appearance of being windblown. He's telling a story, as always. Nothing says corruption more than the dishevelment of simplistic beauty.

Smiling quietly to himself, he exits the trailer and starts walking back toward the saloon set, spotting Felix not far away taking pictures on the horse. It looks almost ridiculous Hyunjin thinks, too grand with far too little edge. Do these people know what they're doing?

Ripping his gaze away, he continues toward the set, the editor waiting for him excitedly. Suddenly, he falters, legs coming to a halt as he notices both Changbin and Jinyoung discussing something intently close by, both of their eyes drawn toward him as soon as he gets nearer.

Hyunjin's gut sours instantly, the bursting prickles of anger from before exploding back to life. They're talking about him, undoubtedly so. Strangely enough Changbin seems to disrupt their conversation, giving him an odd, uncomfortable smile as he starts strolling toward him. Ugh.

"Hey," Is all he says, eyes pooling in concern and for reasons unknown to him, Hyunjin stops walking. He can tell the crew is watching them from his set, too far away to hear anything.

"Kinda busy," He points out, gesturing his head toward the camera, arms crossing instinctively.

"Yeah I know, I just wanted to see if you were okay with what I did in the van."

Hyunjin's stare turns quizzical, eyebrows furrowed together. He taps his foot impatiently, boot hard against the dusted gravel beneath his feet.

"I mean I kinda just...manhandled you," Changbin explains, eyes skeptic and unsure. "Obviously I had to stop you but still. I guess we never really discussed that sort of thing."

Hyunjin swallows the urge to bite the inside of his cheek, shrugging half-heartedly. "Whatever. It's your new job I guess. Being my babysitter."

Changbin sighs, though it comes out more amused than frustrated. He lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as if no longer quite convinced of his answer. "There's gotta be a better word for it than that."

"Don't worry about it." Hyunjin can feel the corner of his upper lips tug upward slightly. The knot in his chest loosens somewhat. "You're not the only with a new job, I'm a cokewhore apparently. And a porn star. Imagine that." He laughs and all of the sudden Changbin's smile widens exponentially, a gust of what he can only assume to be amazement flitting across his eyes.

Hyunjin stops laughing immediately, crossed arms tightening. "What?"

Changbin grins, satisfied expression settling upon him. "Nothing, it's just...I don't think I've ever seen you laugh. It's nice." Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, and Changbin's grin softens just a bit. "That's all."

Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, the crew still waiting intently. He looks back to Changbin, boots already eager to turn. "Well, I gotta go."

About to head off, Changbin cuts him off firmly, mouth unfurling with a sudden impulse of tongue-bound words to be said. "For what it's worth I don't think what Minho said is true."

Hyunjin stares at him, unwillingly searching each muscle and crevice of his face for a sign of insincerity, of bad faith. Frustratingly he finds none. "You're a good dancer. I think there's more value to your performances than just 'bending over.'"

"Then how come you never watch me?" The words leave his mouth before he can stop him, thoughts uprooted from somewhere murky he chooses to leave unnoticed. Covered in ripples of dirt, Hyunjin holds them fresh in the palm of his hand, feeding them in pulsing, freezing terror.

For some reason it feels different this time, dirt for once watered not by starvation, but of curiosity. Hyunjin frowns. Something uncomfortable churns in his gut.

"What?" Is all Changbin says, confused, focused, staring at him as if desperate to cling onto to any semblance of him not tethered in anger.

Hyunjin's gaze never falters, stomach clenching. He thinks he can hear someone call his name, but it sounds muffled, far away to his ear. "You're always looking into the crowd instead."

Changbin remains quiet for a while, eyes wavering for just a second, unnoticeable really to most people. Hyunjin notices. "I'm just doing my job."

"Right." A small smirk etches itself across his lips in a wispy, phantom like whisper. Hyunjin can feel the heatwaves waft across him like tidal waves. "Cause you're a professional."

Changbin says nothing then, only staring at him so intently Hyunjin thinks he might start suffocating soon, skin itchy and compressed, the air entrapping them sweltering unbearably all of the sudden. Hyunjin blames the sun.

Plastering on a smile he isn't quite sure is woven from reality or not, Hyunjin starts walking backwards slowly, the heels of his boots digging forth his path. He laughs, again, the sound strange against his ear. "Well...gotta go bend over."

Hyunjin turns around before he can see how Changbin reacts, walking swiftly toward the saloon and the crew as they all start straightening themselves, readying the equipment. Hyunjin notices the costume designer, the bleached blonde woman from his trailer, with a sour expression as she notices him.

She arches her eyebrow pointedly as she scans his outfit in scrutiny, something hardening in the muscles of her jaw. "That is not how you were supposed to wear the shirt."

"It looks better this way," Is all he says and before she can open her mouth to retort back in indignation, the editor cuts her off, grin as wide and fervent as ever.

"I agree," He states, giving him an appreciative once over as some sort of final confirmation to his resolution. Hyunjin shoots him a grin as he walks toward the deck, the woman huffing in frustration before pointedly walking off, undoubtedly scurrying over to go watch Felix instead. Hyunjin is a hundred percent sure he'd never go rouge.

He does, as it turns out, have to bend over, the boxed Coca-Cola cooler serving as more than just a decorative prop in the background after all.

Hyunjin does as told, though he really doesn't need instructions, long legs tan beneath the sun and cool against the red dispenser, his lower back tattoo revealed seductively along with what he can only imagine to be a strip of his underwear from how much he's bending. Hyunjin twists his upper body to the side to look back into the camera, eyes as innocent as his fury-run slender body will allow them to.

He does endless more poses, limbs moving before anyone has the chance to say anything, propping himself up on the cooler as he spreads his legs apart, arms flat against the surface as he leans forward slightly. He sways his legs dreamily, restlessly. He can grasp the concept more than he'd like to admit, more than he thinks the people watching him do, has lived a reality distorted beneath the same scorching boulders.

Sleepless youth of Southwestern comfort and American grit, illusioned with dreams too distant and slippery to reach, wandering on bumbling feet, kicking away pebbles in the gravel further and further from the hilt of his backyard. Always coming back, in the end, to trail after pathways left in dust, crumbs of silly, adolescent fantasies.

Idle beauty feigning purity, submerged in the cracks of a withered hometown, tired, bored of living a forced foreign goodness. Hyunjin sits down on the steps of the deck, neck lolled backwards, bathed harshly in the sunlight from where the roof does not reach. He stretches himself gently, not like that of a cat, or the bejeweled, shimmering animals he plays so well night after night, but instead a gust of wind too faltering to ever land upon anything.

He draws himself back on his knees, arms stretching forward as he arches his back, stretching, extending thinly upon the wooden deck, alluring and bewitching as the cameras flicker entrancingly. Hyunjin remembers too well the yearning of his youth, unsophisticated nights in the backseat of cars, mind a daze, stomach hungry but satisfied with the illusion of momentary freedom, rebellion from the tight clasp of his homebound walls, suffocating and with roots of loathsome tar.

He stands back up again, leaning against the pillar with a mischievous, waiting expression brewing in desire, something different than what he's used to. The need to devour without sharpened teeth, only hopeful, enchanting naivety. It used to be him, once.

Struck by sudden nausea Hyunjin diverts his gaze back to the camera, spots Jinyoung close by as he watches him intently. Changbin is there too, back for once not turned to his performance.

Hyunjin's eyes flit to meet his for a brief, swallowing second before turning back to the camera, the cameraman getting closer and angling his equipment this way and that way, undoubtedly getting the unchaste photos they've been longing for. Hyunjin looks back to Changbin, subtly, unwillingly. It's difficult to tell what he's thinking, as always. Frustration pools in his gut.

Even more so does it expand as the editor tells them all that it's a wrap, thanking him and the crew for their hard work. Confused, Hyunjin frowns, eyes scanning across the vastness of the desert, noticing to the left side of the saloon a large open field scattered with red sandstone and cascading jagged cacti in the background, sky a rough, almost maddening blue. Is that it?

Leaning against the pillar, Hyunjin notices most of the crew have still not moved, puzzled by his stillness and uncertainty. Still whirring from before with small, prickly seeds of an ill-defined sickness, Hyunjin knows already he'll spend his night in an endless loop of regret.

Still, he catches Changbin's gaze in the corner of his eye and a twisted, almost burning thought begins to flourish, his feet moving before he can stop them, determined, angry, toward the open field.

"We're not done!" He yells, not even bothering to turn his head toward the editor as he marches toward the sand, chest rippling and boiling with the fury of words that encircle his mind, crushing with the heel of his boot the tongues of both Jinyoung and Minho with religious conviction.

Nobody knows how to do anything, he grumbles as he lowers himself into the sand, knees and hands imprinted already with grainy, slightly reddened dust as he buries them into the earth.

The crew move too slowly and Hyunjin fights the urge to roll his eyes, large, confounded expressions blinking owlishly in response to his command before immediately following suit, rushing over to where he lies spread out on the desert floor with peaked, almost hawklike interest.

Hyunjin doesn't wait for the camera to get into place before he starts to pose, back on the ground as he arches it dramatically, his body resting on his elbows as he throws his neck back, head falling in feigned, spellbinding pleasure. Mouth parted open, eyes pinched shut, Hyunjin knows the sun will bathe him in the most captivating of lights.

He drags his hands across his body in a seductive yet slowed desperation, envisions himself for a second as if dancing to the sensual beat of whispered music beneath familiar stage lights, the watchers feeding upon his self-sacrifice, his movement, every tiny, sinful intake of breath like the venomous drop of a long awaited oasis.

Hyunjin knows they mill about like large, ravenous vultures eagerly awaiting his death, convinced they are of power, of great talons and ruffled feathers thick enough to crush the nimble ones of a meagre butterfly and yet he laughs at their ignorance with sickened mirth. They are not the ones with power, he is. How will the beasts feed themselves without him?

Turning his head to the side, he stares directly into the camera, lowering his back to lie flat down against the sand as he starts to stretch and roll, sand imprinting itself everywhere in a perfect illusion of summertime salacity. Everybody's watching him. Hyunjin smirks. Of course they are, witnessing his metamorphosis so freely beneath a blistering sun.

His eyes skit around as he pulls himself to his knees, landing once again on a familiar, unreadable face close by. Hyunjin scans him up and down slowly, Changbin's gaze burning upon him all too knowingly. Why is he always wearing tight, black clothes in such heat?

Hyunjin resists the urge to laugh, standing up and walking toward him, determined, steely as he snatches the water bottle from his hand and goes back toward where he was lying before anyone gets the chance to ask a question. Unscrewing the cork, he rises the bottle above himself and tilts it over. He knew there was something missing.

He feels the coolness of the water cascade down his hair, neck, chest like the refreshing relief to an aching wound far too accustomed to vicious, undoing jabs of salt - a long-lived thirst finally quenched. Good. Hyunjin hopes the photos will convey as such.

He gets on his hands and knees immediately, prowling toward the camera like a tiger in search of something to still its hunger, his dripping black hair and soaked white blouse like a spitting jungle image against the orangeness encircling him. Wet. Sharp. Sticky with sand. If this isn't the cover shot Hyunjin doesn't know how to help such simple minds further.

Once again Hyunjin's gaze refuses to rest, wanders like something winged and in search of landing upon the faces observing him, enraptured, amazed. Hyunjin doesn't care about their droning, repetitious expressions. He sees them night after night.

Instead he finds, with a slow and perhaps all too calculated hunt, the perfect place to rest, to feel the deathly submission of flames taunt his flesh, in the unreadable eyes of a certain man.

Something sharp and with flashes jolts within him, Changbin's eyes unwavering, scalding in the shadows of his own. Hyunjin lowers his arms down upon the sand, stretching slowly, carefully, his stomach coiling in a low, buzzing build of ecstasy.

His lower back remains raised still and now that his head lies docilely against the sand, Hyunjin is sure his tattoo glistens ravishingly on full display. Changbin's eyes never leave his, the memory of other watchers suddenly far too muggy and distorted for his mind to grasp onto.

Changbin is a man of mysteries, always indecipherable and level-headed, at least to him and his own indulgence in the unknown of the pitch black dark and yet he knows, can feel something hot and swelling tug and pull in the swirling of his gut, exactly what those eyes are saying. Ablaze and leaden all at the same time, like the inky sky at last enlightened, so deliciously satisfied, with the scattered guidance of a million stars.

They all lead to the same place. Sin. Salvation. Hyunjin can feel it too. His mouth feels wet and heavy with the desire to moan against the sand, perhaps strangle himself with the grains of his long-since tended blasphemy.

Instead he breaks the eye contact, ripping himself away from thoughts best left unfed, distracted momentarily by the sound of something scuttling close by his ear. There, in the small sliver of shadow cast by a jagged, saw-edged rock right next to him, stands a startled, pointy little critter. Bulky pincers, black, smoothened shell - Hyunjin has seen the Emperor Scorpion many times scurrying around the gravel of his childhood backyard, exceedingly so during the winter.

For a small, horrifying second, fear strikes him in sharp jabs against his chest but he ignores it, pushes it down until it crumbles into forgotten dust beneath his bones. He thinks of what Changbin had said earlier, the words tumbling into his mind before he can stop them. You're a good dancer. Hyunjin wants to throttle them into oblivion.

He's not just good. Reaching forward with the swiftness and precision of a cat, he grabs onto the side of the tail, careful of avoiding the stinger, rising the dangling scorpion only inches from his lips as he opens his mouth. He's the best.

Hyunjin thinks he hears sharp gasps resounding all around him, a camera clicking almost violently and the scratchy voice of Jinyoung somewhere in the distance yell with panicked urgency. He ignores them all, closing his eyes and lowering the scorpion bit by bit, heart thrumming wildly against his ribcage.

Hyunjin knows they don't sting unless threatened, but really what's provocative without edge? The desert without its dangers, pleasure without pain? Hot, sizzling blood unbound by venom?

He wonders if he'll be immortalized like this, in the sand-hued frames of godless pictures. Smirking, he opens his eyes and stares up at Changbin, gut clenching and curling like knots of skin-blemishing ropes.

Open-mouthed, hypnotized, Changbin bares himself unknowingly to the destructive claws of Hyunjin's greedy, greedy grasps. The scorpion thrashes wildly now in between his fingers, panicked clearly. He almost feels bad.

Flinging the creature back onto the sand, Hyunjin laughs before getting up, veins and skin buzzing with something he's seldom felt before, head pinched thin and in elation. Someone ushers him closer to the crew before he realizes it, feet light and restless as a towel is futilely offered to him, the heat from the sun almost having dried up most of the water already. Still, Hyunjin uses it to dust the sand off of himself, chest pulsating uncontrollably.

"Wow." The breathless voice of astonishment makes him peek his head up in its direction, the editor in chief grinning at him almost maniacally. Hyunjin grins back. "You are batshit insane! I love it!"

Hyunjin thanks him, revels for a moment in both stardust and sobriety, frightened of their coexistence, before he starts retreating back toward the trailer, the lingering eyes of someone scalding hot against the back of his neck. He turns around, meets Changbin's eyes with the familiar itch from before, a sudden sharp gust of wind billowing in the sunbaked horizon. The hem of Changbin's shirt flutters in a quick, graceful movement from the breeze, revealing a tiny strip of skin by his hips.

Hyunjin's eyes follow it instantly, alit with the gleam of a thousand small fireflies as he spots the swirls of ink dipping into the waistline of his jeans. There, before the wind stills once more and fabric falls to its rightful place, Hyunjin spots the distinct tattoo of a tail-raised scorpion. Hyunjin lifts his gaze, meets Changbin's eyes still staring right at him. Wordlessly he smirks, returning back to the trailer, wondering beneath which shadow the little critter scurried off to.

Notes:

someone hire me as a magazine director please 🙏

next update on monday 💕 thank you for reading

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 4: Rotten

When the heat eventually lost its vigor and stretched itself thin to cover the red-bleeding sky and all that it watched over, Hyunjin, begrudgingly, made his way home. Careful to shuffle his feet against their porch so as to not bring dirt inside the house, he ignored the crater in his stomach and stepped quietly inside. Immediately he could tell something was wrong.

The walls were still, eerily so, with only what he could sense to be a foreboding entwinement of silence. No scuttling sound of a broom against the floorboards, or the squeakiness of dishes being washed from the kitchen. Hyunjin knows both his mother and step-father are home. They always are, so close to bedtime.

He should've been home sooner, Hyunjin knows he should've, and yet he'd wandered the back woods for hours and hours once the school bus dropped him off, dawdling, dreading the eventual return beneath their withering roof.

His mother detests it when he comes home late and yet Hyunjin can bend and twist the expanse of his own imagination for an uncatchable passing of time, balancing on logs, jumping from rock to rock, observing the geckos that mill about endlessly.

He doesn't mean to let time escape him. Well, perhaps that is precisely what he means. Especially today, his eight grade report card clutched shakily in his hand. He'll tell his mother he was at church, with the youth group. That usually seems to momentarily pacify her. His grades, on the other, he already knows will not.

He can't help his inability to focus, eyes heavy with the leaden lack of sleep as his head droops time after time against his desk. His teachers chastise him, criticizing him for not prioritizing sleep at home. Hyunjin can't help it, he thinks with growing frustration always laced in his chest. He can't fall asleep until 3AM!

Still, he hopes his mother does not ask for it, tucks it hastily away into his backpack once the door shuts behind him. Quietly, anxiously, he makes his way further into their home, light on his feet as he all but tip-toes into the kitchen.

His mother sits molded like a robot by the small round table, the darkening sun of the evening sky casting an unnerving strip of light across her face. For a second her eyes gleam with something wicked and Hyunjin's stomach immediately plummets.

Hyunjin says nothing, scans the room rapidly for any sign of his step-father, frightened by the maddened look upon his mother's face, chest constricting painfully in the realization that he isn't there. His mother always becomes crueler when they're alone.

"Where's-" He starts, voice shaky as he keeps his distance but his mother cuts him off, sharp and serrated as she lifts her gaze to glare at him. Hyunjin swallows his words immediately, throat unbearably dry all of the sudden.

"Working late," She snaps and it's then that Hyunjin notices something clasped tightly in the clutch of her hands, obscured from the table hiding her lap. Hyunjin thinks he can see the faintest expanse of something furry. His heart freezes.

His mother takes her time to stare at him, eyes hardened, cold. Lifeless he thinks, if not for the burning ice sloshing within them. Hyunjin knows he's been bad, can tell that this time he's been really, really bad and yet he doesn't know why, awaits with dread in his stomach for an answer.

Slowly, precisely like the cutting edge of a knife, his mother lifts her hands to unfold her grasp, the gray, worn-out patches of his best friend sitting deathlike upon the table. Hyunjin can feel his heart stop entirely.

"Why do you have this?" Her voice is low, calm, teetering with the first winds of a storm too destructive for their puny, spindly home. Hyunjin can only stare back wide-eyed and horrified. Why does his mother have Bunny?!

She stands up then, the legs of the chair scratching against the floorboards as she pushes herself upward, the sound piercing in the stifling silence. She grabs Bunny once more, grip so hard around his neck that her knuckles turn white, nails like talons ready to tear. Hyunjin can feel the blood seep away from his face, his mother's emotionless expression twisting and marring itself in horrid, unleashing anger. "Why do you have this?!"

"I...I..." Hyunjin stutters, his mother's eyes only darkening with each second he fumbles through his words, tongue sticky and glued to the roof of his mouth. His eyes flicker to Bunny's, those small, inky beads and faint stitching of the mouth, gentle smile gracing his little face. "I don't know-he's mine, I-"

"I found him on your bed," his mother states simply and Hyunjin thinks something venomous injects itself into his veins, cursing, yelling at himself for not having hid him that morning. His mother usually keeps away from his room. Why had she gone in there?!

"Y-you gave him to me," Hyunjin explains, arms crossed against his torso, fingernails pinching his forearm desperately. He just wants Bunny back, safe and soft against his embrace. "W-when I was little."

His mother raises an eyebrow at that, face sneering in disgust. Truthfully Hyunjin cannot remember how he had gotten Bunny, only remembers his continuity, constant, velvety presence in his life, always watching, always there. Bunny knows all of his secrets. Hyunjin starts clawing at his skin, uncontrollably, repulsively. His mother hates it when he does that. He can't stop.

"Why do you still have it?!" She screams, her grip tightening even further, Hyunjin's eyes watering by now. "You're too old for stuffed animals! You're not a child!"

He's thirteen, not a child, not a child, yes he knows, he does things children don't.

Still, he wipes furiously at his eyes, cursing himself for his weakness. Before he gets the chance to answer - stumbling, pitiful excuses for words no doubt - Hyunjin's heart screams before his throat does, his mother's clutch wringing itself in one swift, vicious movement, ripping off Bunny's head with the help of her nails, long, winding talons like that of a monster, stuffing spilling endlessly over the seams.

"No!" Hyunjin screams, throat raw and bleeding as terror takes over him, his feet moving immediately toward where the head of Bunny lies upon the floor, soft ears folded above his eyes as if weeping. "No!"

His mother snatches Bunny's head before he gets the chance, legs crumbling from beneath him as his knees hit the kitchen tiles. His head pounds and pulsates, seconds away from exploding.

"Stop!" He screams, tears streaming down his cheeks as he claws at his mother's legs, desperate to stop her from moving. She's too quick, running through the cupboards as he realizes in horror what she's looking for.

"Stop it!" Hyunjin's sure even the unseen birds in the treetops of their backwoods can hear him by now, voice sore and aching as he wails and wails. Hyunjin's heart freezes, doubles over and comes pounding back to life again as he watches helplessly the vicious blades of the kitchen scissors massacre the rest of Bunny, his ears, legs, stomach, pieces falling pitifully like mounds of dust upon the tiles. Hyunjin shrieks, arms flailing in agony, stomach on fire as he throws himself on the floor, hands desperate to scramble together the pieces.

It's too late, too late, the scattered remnants of his best friend torn apart into misery, his head throbbing uncontrollably as he sobs and sobs. The small fragments he's gathered of cotton stuffing turns frail in his grip, eyes pinched painfully shut as he stutters through his cries.

He can hear his mother shuffle from above him, picking up the pieces and tossing them into the trash can beneath the sink. Hyunjin's heart plummets further, no, no, no, not there, not in the garbage, now he can never fix him back together, can never give Bunny one last hug, too infested with dirt and germs and all things filthy and no, no, no he can't touch the trash can!

"What did you do?!" Hyunjin screams, forearms red from how he holds himself tightly, fingernails clawing and scratching viciously at his own skin. He rocks back and forth, chest constricting with sobs as he tries to look through a blurry vision at the wicked face of his own mother.

"Look at you!" She hisses, eyes livid with disgust, perpetual sneer back in its rightful place. "Crying like a child over a toy!"

How dare she call Bunny a toy, how dare she murder Bunny like that, cold, heartless and bloodthirsty! How dare she?!

"I hate you!" Hyunjin screeches, scrambling to stand up, hot streaks of tears gushing down his cheeks, ribcage tight and aching as if everything inside him is expanding, too large and crushing for his nimble-boned body to digest, guts and loathing spilling over before he has a chance to stop them. "Bunny was my friend!"

His mother laughs then, cruel and rotten as it reverberates throughout the room, puncturing him in the places still unscathed by her needle, few as they may be. "Your friend? You embarrass me, you embarrass God by being so childish!"

Anger ripples through his body then, hot and burning and so so agonizing Hyunjin thinks his skin might come melting off should he not purge himself of it. His bottom lip quivers, eyes steely as he blinks away his tears, tongue itchy and strung with fire as he stares her unwaveringly in the face. "You're just jealous."

The words cut through sharp and tensed in the muggy air of their kitchen, his mother's expression falling to something more reserved, more lethal.

Hyunjin thinks he can see every crevice in her face twitch in repression, a guarded, daunting sense of revulsion passing through in carefully concealed creases. Hyunjin feels them too, regret already plunging inside his stomach of ever having spoken. He thinks he might vomit.

"Of what?" Her words are quiet, barely above a taunting whisper. Hyunjin knows what it means, knows what she's challenging him to say. Still panic shines in her eyes. Bile pools in his mouth. She knows he won't say anything.

The front door slams shut all of the sudden, the two of them flinching from the sound, his mother quickly turning around to start scrubbing the dishes. Hyunjin stares at her back, unmoving, terrified. Then, before anyone has the chance to see the tears gathering in his eyes, he scrambles to his bedroom, closing the door with shaky, trembling fingers.

He mourns Bunny that night, thin sheets too fragile and decaying to cover the misery of the sobs that echo throughout his room. How can he live without his friend anymore, how can he wake up, go to school, how can he ever go to sleep knowing he'll never be able to clutch onto such softness, such gentle, carefully woven velvet.

He'll plan a funeral, he decides. Find a gravestone, somewhere in the woods. It's the least Bunny deserves, even though he has no body for it. Hyunjin feels his heart crack. He wonders if with the death of Bunny comes death of him too.

Still the terror in his mother's face never leaves him, brittle yet haunting in the wake of sleepless nights. For a miniscule, stomach-churning moment Hyunjin had seen her painted not by anger or hatred, but by gloomy colors of fear.

Fear of him, of what he might say, of murky, diluted whispers behind peeling, secretive-bound walls. Of truth. Of how she forces to compose herself, to pretend she knows nothing, that her fingers do not tremble in their denied longing to stretch and break something and that her tongue does not burn from the bile she compels herself to swallow.

Yes, Hyunjin understands then, understands then how to truly, deeply scar rifts in her chest that sting more than hot-tempered, anger induced fits of vicious insults and harsh grips around his limbs. How he had hated her carelessness, detested the way she stood there day after day bathed in her own, hand-made delusion.

Now, he thinks, with the searing image of her nails tearing apart his Bunny, he finds a wicked glee in it instead, knowing she's trapped, knowing she won't do anything to break the selfishly tinted illusion she has constructed.

His arms ache, reaching out for something small and consoling that is no longer there. A single tear drop streams its way down his cheek, the salt like a wound as it burns its way across his flesh. Finally, he knows how to hurt his mother.

 

-

 

The photos turn out good, of course they do. He knew they would, the cover photo exactly as he'd hoped - wet, dripping black hair as he crawls toward the camera, grains of flaming gold roaring in the background, the perfect ground to drive mad a tiger on the hunt.

He'd reveled in the aftermath of a glorious haze, irreproachable, indestructible pieces of art once again successfully carried out, carried out the way art should be molded - with just enough grit and insanity to be considered beautiful. The editor in chief had sent him the previews with a long string of flattering words. The pay check was big, more so than he expected. Hyunjin could only imagine what Jinyoung was making. As if he'd done anything at all.

His days off that had followed unfolded themselves as high-strung as always, dulled yet frenzied in the desperate need to make time passed unscathed. There's a jarring dissonance between the pulsating veins of his canyon-shaped radiance and the bleakness of rituals, repetitive, droning - cursed remedies to breathe.

Yet Hyunjin remembers all too well the feeling of sand and filth upon his skin, like small, scurrying insects burrowing into his flesh and so he clings onto his obsessions with feverish worship within the colorless walls of his apartment. Cleaning, scrubbing, counting, counting, counting, the spring of clovers overflowing his lungs as he lets them. He sucks knee-drawn by his couch onto the frigidity of a fudgesicle, feels the chocolate ice his teeth in rattling familiarity.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the folded pages of a black-covered book, Lolita half-read and just barely avoiding the stream of sunlight cascading from his window, desolate and abandoned on his coffee table.

Hyunjin had read it as if possessed, moved by cogs with tar frenzied with the need for something sticky to plaster themselves with, its existence chirping in the distance like hidden cicadas beneath the grass blades. Impossible for him to ignore.

He stares at it pitifully, gut churning in the steady swell of nausea as he lets its words wash over him once more, mind latching onto them with sickness before his conscience can crumble them to insignificant, puny dust.

Like rainfall that leaves you snotty and freezing, Hyunjin soaks up memories long since clawed deep into his skin as if born anew and honey-sweet to diseases he thought he'd already coughed clean.

The description of the child, of the nymphet, had not resonated within him at first. Her appearance recounted by the sinful, desperate words of a man honed with godlessness created a picture in his head, a portrait of sorts of a young girl gifted with the smoothness of beauty and allure, yet cursed with the impurity and the smudges it bled.

Hyunjin had not seen himself that way, had not ever recognized such beauty in himself the few times he dared look in the mirror - the kind that grows steady and firm and upholds itself through its vigor, yet frustrates you at the same time because you know it cannot flourish without delicate petals violently being ripped off.

Yes, a beauty that forces you to weep because you long to protect it so - the softness of skin too young to be creased, the stretching of shell-pink lips as they form in laughter that titters beneath the sun - but know simultaneously that you cannot because the desire, the finger-stretching urge to grab it and mark it and drink from its irresistibility is too powerful for the common, weak-hearted man to resist.

Tan, yielding muscles that flex in the corner of the room as the sunlight from the kitchen window capture their flexibility, the way that they stretch and extend in uncovered, hairless legs swinging back and forth. Small, dainty fingers that tap vigorously away at the wall, the carpet, the coffee table - anything really - in the childish inability to simply do nothing. And dark hair that must be so unimaginably soft against the whiteness of willowy skin pliant enough for you to mold as you wish and a small, faultless face too stunning to simply be called pretty and too bewitching to be described as heavenly. Yes, beautiful had never been a more fitting word.

Hyunjin grabs the book with a swiveling rage scorching the insides of his stomach, flipping the pages almost viciously as his lungs fill with illness. How could such words, such sweet, whispered drops of honeydew, unravel her so, nestle themselves so deeply into her ungrown marrow, like echoes in the gentle breeze of childlike callowness in springtime.

How could she titter, how could she sigh so plainly, so void of ashen lungs and aching with the need to be touched, caressed, cradled by polluted promises of love? Foolishness eludes but the youth, clawing and striking from within with the pretty veil of dreamlike adoration, sheer and thin and embroidered with an infatuating lace, delicate against his touch.

Had she too, like him, been afraid to ruin it, to feel its fleetingness crumble from the harsh grips of his own fingertips, to destroy with his own tears the vision in which he could live happily, loved, untainted by the raw rumbling of a truthful perversion, bathed in blindness and the joyful secrecy of being special, of being wanted?

Fresh as the birth of a daisy, pure and unplucked, tethered not by the mellow, rotting smell of his own slow decay but reborn, instead, perfumed by childlike lightness, toffee, candy, skin-stained pomegranate, remnants of a sun-soaked peach iced tea. He had been lovely like that, passion borne whispers of worship he had longed to believe so greedily clutched in his grasp. Beautiful. Pretty. Pretty, little dove.

Beautiful. On the ruptured brink of adolescence, did he repeat those words to himself alone in his room, his mouth stretching to form the them quietly, gently as he whispered them in the dark of night.

He repeated them in front of the bathroom mirror, its rift only distracting him slightly as he turned his face every which way, observing the angles of his jaw and the curve of his nose, lips pressed tightly together once he finished speaking as if afraid the words would not come back lest he keep them firmly bound by his tongue.

Beautiful. The word belonged to him, he'd decided though he didn't quite know when, and it made him smile. It always made him smile when he thought of it - a real, genuine smile that flit across his entire face, one he had not felt since he used to watch cartoons every day, his nose scrunching up in laughter as Wile E. Coyote was outsmarted once again.

He cherished those moments whenever they came, took all that he could from them and kept them guarded and safe in his brain, held them protectively in his heart so that they could not be stolen. The tightness in his chest had loosened, his stomach filled with butterflies, his eyes wide and sparkling.

Hyunjin's gut clenches in disgust, the pages of the book tight and stuttering in the painful grip of his hand, Lolita's insolence diminished to mere shadows in her own dreamy expression, nervous toss of hair and droopy, silly swoops of her own self as she all but gives and gives and gives in the youthful selfishness of perhaps receiving something in return, thorns of Cupid and sharp, sharp jabs of murder. How Hyunjin detests her, detests that child, that pitiful ball of frayed bones too willing to do anything to hear even the shallowest of compliments!

In a moment of ruptured rage, Hyunjin throws the book against the wall, fingers trembling from where they'd grazed along to Nabakov's words and the glossy, vivid clearness they'd so carefully been molded with, their glare, their grit tearing at the phlegm he'd long since swallowed.

His chest heaves, the cover frail and miniscule in the clear strip of light upon his floor, almost ridiculous he thinks. Puny and insignificant, a small spider momentarily afoot before crushed by his own merciless heel. What was he thinking, loaning such a monstrosity?

It was merely pages in a passing, nothing more but a work of literary artistry one praises because one must do so out of the aimless habit of succumbing to academic expectation, its now dog-eared pages and weathered hard-cover buried vacuously to the bottom of his drawer as a new, yet equally as unimpressionable book will inevitably shape its way into hands too impatient for the indulgence of reading. No, its words and craftmanship had not struck him at all.

Hyunjin parts ways with it the same way he parts ways with anything - easily and without room for contemplation, continuing with great conviction the completion of his rituals, precise, infuriated yet coarse in the way he swallows it in bitterness.

His day drones on with great strain, a tired, creaking restlessness reverberating throughout his bones as he at last makes his way down the billboard-swathed streets of his city. Jittery, head aching as it exerts itself to think of anything but smudged, mold-festering pages, Hyunjin hardly wastes any time in denying himself his rightful pleasures, sweet, crumbling ecstasy like a hard sheet of ice against his scorching, brittle soul.

He pours himself into stage lights as if reborn once more, his withering cocoon cracking and discarding itself with seamless beauty the minute he steps on stage, becomes at last absolute through metamorphosis.

He's been working on a new routine for weeks now, tight black corset, shorts and fishnets a sharp contrast to his face, eyes wide and innocent with tears of pearls cascading down his cheeks to give the appearance of religious sorrow, a gleaming, glittering cross dangling upon his forehead from the string of beads around his hair.

His dancing starts off timidly this time, as if anxious and too tethered with delusions of innocence to commit to it fully. Hyunjin knows there's something undeniably desirable about purity tainted, the way it twists and curves in a beauty that becomes less and less graceful, more and more ravenous.

Hyunjin loops his leg around the pole, reaching for the top, eyes scanning the crowd hungrily as he lets the watchers imprint him into their minds with blazing flames of need. Hands wrapping themselves around the pole, he bends his upper body backward, dipping upside down as if struck by something grand, mouth parted open in small, breathless gasps.

From where he hangs he can only slightly discern the familiar frame of the same muscled back he's come to stare at so often, Changbin looking dutifully into the crowd as always. His head pulsates viciously for a sharp, miniscule moment, the faint image of an ink-swirled scorpion flashing through his eyes. He tears it apart with the swift movement of his legs, twisting himself around the pole, back arched upward as his face conveys the frightful acceptance of a pleasure never once felt before.

Hyunjin finishes his routine with merciless precision, mind thudding dully as soon as he reaches the darkness from behind the curtains, fingers twitching and yearning for another line. He makes his way toward his dressing room without interruption, the small white packet Jinyoung had given him earlier nearly empty already.

How had that happened? Hyunjin frowns, the sound of a certain book slamming against his wall echoing forcefully in his head. It must have slipped his mind to pace himself.

Snorting the last of the coke, Hyunjin nearly weeps of relief when Jinyoung knocks on his door, letting himself in with a strange, almost grave look in his eye. Hyunjin's relief diminishes instantly, the mood tense and stifling ever since their argument out in the desert.

"What?" He asks, crossing his arms as he raises an eyebrow, the high of cocaine not nearly blissful enough to constrain his discontent.

"I received a letter yesterday, in my mail box," Jinyoung explains, inching his way closer as he carefully tries to scope the extent of his anger with burrowing, inquisitive eyes. Hyunjin only stares back expressionless. "But it was addressed to you."

Something icy floods the pits of his stomach immediately, a sharp sense of dread overcoming him as Jinyoung fishes forward a small, white-paged envelop, hand outstretching to give it to him as if delivering something dangerous, explosive.

Hyunjin snatches it with guarded eyes, gut swirling uncomfortably before breathing out an overwhelming sigh of relief as he looks across his scribbled name, instantly recognizing the handwriting.

"It's just my stalker," he laughs, tearing the paper open as he scans through the wording half-heartedly, the same obsessive spiel as usual before tossing it carelessly onto the surface of his vanity desk.

Jinyoung stares at him wide-eyed, mouth open in indignation. "What?!"

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, letting an amused smirk etch itself across his face. "Please, he used to send me tons of those but I never responded, so he stopped. Guess he figured he'd try your address instead."

Jinyoung gazes at him perplexedly, eyebrows high and in disbelief before he harshly grabs the letter from his desk, reading through it with hasty urgency.

Hyunjin suppresses the urge to laugh as he watches Jinyoung's face screw itself in disgust the further down his eyes flicker. "What the fuck..." he mutters, folding the paper the minute he finishes as he stares back up at him, eyes burning with a sense of lividness. "This guy is sick!"

"Please." Hyunjin leans against his deck, cracking his neck indifferently. "His letters are all the same. He's just some pathetic virgin."

Jinyoung looks at him in exasperation, incredulity blinding across his face. "This guy is not a virgin, did you not read what he wants to do to you? He's dangerous!"

Hyunjin scoffs, stepping closer to grab the letter with his own hands and pointedly tearing it apart, tossing the discarded remnants into his trash can. "Did you not read what he wants to do with me? The whole thing reeks of some lonely porn-obsessed virgin."

Jinyoung inches toward him, breath fanning across his face as he stares down with worried eyes, something indecipherable pooling within them. "You shouldn't have tossed it. Could be evidence, for the police."

Hyunjin snorts, ignoring the gently sculpted way in which Jinyoung regards him, stomach heavy with a sudden unease. "Please. The police made it very clear they can't do anything unless he actually does something. Which he won't."

A frown flits itself over Jinyoung's face, hands twitching as if uncertain what to do with themselves. "How can you be so sure? I don't want you to get hurt."

Hyunjin only plasters on a foreign tasting smile, the walls all of the sudden confining from where he stands. "Don't worry boss, I'll still be here next week to keep your pay in check."

Jinyoung's frown deepens even further, forehead creasing as if deeply troubled, eyes clouding and unclouding with the speed of the bewildered. "You don't actually think that's what I'm worried about right? I care about you, not the money."

Hyunjin laughs then, loud yet oddly humorless, the sound echoing dismally between the two of them. "Since when did you not care about money?"

Jinyoung sighs, quiet and disturbed, eyes flitting all over him rapidly as if in search of answers long since buried away from the common-sighted man. "Obviously I care about money, but your safety is more important. Why do you think I hired Changbin? 'Cause it's so cheap to have another person on payroll?"

Hyunjin stills then, arms crossing over each once again, low scoff emitting from his lips before he has a chance to stop it. "I can handle myself."

"I know you can," Jinyoung steps closer, hands snaking their way around his waist in what feels strangely divergent from before, forcing him to look up as he gazes down upon him with reserved, heavy-leaden eyes. "But that doesn't mean you should have to."

Hyunjin only stares up at him, stomach dense and injected with hard, solid stone, Jinyoung's unreadable, unsettling expression seeping into him with small kernels of panic whirring on the brink of explosion.

His mouth opens slowly to say something, but Hyunjin cuts him off before he gets the chance, a high, abnormal sounding string of laughter fluttering through his throat as he gently untangles himself from Jinyoung's hold. "I'm gonna go smoke."

He reaches for his packet of cigarettes and the smoothened curve of the door handle before Jinyoung can respond, flitting quickly down the stairwell with hastened, restless feet before snaking his way out the back door, the sudden warmth caressing his skin along with a gentle gust of wind through the darkness.

Leaning against the wall with his own cigarette neatly placed between his fingers, stands Felix, blonde hair in wispy strands across his face as a joyful smile encompasses him once his eyes land upon Hyunjin, hands almost shaky from how quickly he starts fumbling with his lighter.

"Hey," Felix says, turning his body ever so slightly to angle it toward him, head tilting to the side. "Smoke break?"

Hyunjin nods, returning back the faintest echo of a grin as he quietly takes his own drag, exhaling slowly with closed eyes, head hitting the wall softly. Why the fuck was Jinyoung acting so strange all of the sudden?

"You good?" Felix asks, eyes almost glossy beneath the illuminated darkness.

"Yeah," is all he says, gaze flickering up to the sky, stars too deeply woven for him to see. He lets out a short breath of laughter, the swelling in his chest loosening slightly with each drag. "Got another note from my little stalker."

Felix's eyes widen immediately, mouth dropping open as he steps a little closer, the two of them side by side, backs against the wall. "You're kidding?!"

Hyunjin laughs again, shaking his head. "No. It would be kind of funny if it weren't so pathetic."

"Wow," Felix breathes out, clouds of smoke evaporating in front of them. Hyunjin watches intently as they swirl into nothingness. "Guy can't take a hint, clearly."

"I know," Hyunjin grins, one heel against the wall as a sudden breeze makes him wrap his arms around myself. He turns to Felix, smile mischievous and playful. "Almost makes me want to respond."

Felix laughs then, the corners of his lips stretching in amusement. "You seem to like that sort of thing."

Hyunjin's heart freezes, his smile slipping away instantly. Something ugly starts to rear itself inside his chest. He lets out a jittery, humorless imitation of a chuckle. It sounds more hollow than he intends it to. "What?"

Felix is still smiling at him, innocent, pretty, free of the tainted smudges of ghosts. Hyunjin wants to scald it until it comes melting off his face, gruesome as it sludges in heaps of decay against the pavement. He swallows, his heart thrumming uncomfortably.

"You know," he continues, eyes unbound from the shriveling of clawing, wretched thoughts, tone still light, still carefree as if uttering words that could never reach more than a simple exhale of smoke. "Driving guys crazy over you."

Hyunjin hears something vicious and fluttering pound against his head, the sound of something he had murdered coming back to life in the pouncing, crazed slaughter of a madman, tumbling, drooping, slipping like melted candlewax beneath his legs as he struggles to unstick his flesh from blistering.

He pinches his forearm discreetly, voice low and laced with anger despite the faint shakiness with which he tries to level it. "You think I like having a stalker?"

He can see the first scuttling seeds of panic begin to move around in Felix's eyes, smile sloping into a frown as his tongue spills reassurance in the childlike need to cover misdeeds, scared of spewing words that might lead to damnation.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, I just-" Felix laughs then, nervous and yet dwindling into something of a weakly assured conviction of calmness, eyes glinting as if that would somehow make Hyunjin grasp onto his thoughts. "You know exactly how to make them unravel. Like in the bird cage, when you egg them on until they break and get kicked out."

Felix stares at him wide-eyed, expectant, desperate almost, for him to agree. A faint smile flits itself across his face, sincere and virtuous as always. Hyunjin can hardly hear himself speak from how loudly his ears have started ringing, his words flooding like hot, palpitating streams of blood as they rush through his head, compressing and compressing until his skull begins to crack.

"You think I enjoy it?" Bitter and edged like the dull wound of a blunted blade, Hyunjin spits out his words on a tightrope, chest desperately trying to hold back from spilling over the rotted stench of his souring, sludge-infested gut.

Felix seems fully panicked then, voice retreating in small, weakening waves as he stumbles through his explanation, eyes confused yet alarmed at the way Hyunjin stares at him, pupils bright and yellow like some frenzied deformation born out of wildlife, eager, itchy to pounce.

"I mean...yeah, you seem to like it, you know..." Felix's gaze flits around everywhere, grip on his cigarette loosening substantially as his words soar through Hyunjin like sharp, vicious jabs to his stomach. He thinks he might vomit, ashen taste of his forgotten cigarette mounting like poison ready to throttle him. Felix continues to stumble, entangling himself in futile webs of explanations. "You goad them into losing control? Isn't...I mean, I thought you did that on purpose?"

His voice turns small, almost nonexistent as he finishes, shoulders shrinking in on themselves as his face shines with pearly hysteria. Hyunjin can feel something lash within him, throat on fire as he barrels through wounds that cut him, skin-deep and to the bone. "So it's my fault I have a stalker? I encouraged him, is that what you're saying?"

"No!" Felix's voice turns squeaky, boxed with regret around the edges and trickled with distress. "No, no, of course not, that guy is obviously crazy." Hyunjin watches as something painful contorts itself across his face, pouty lips and blameless eyes shattering in the heavy silence, his hands wringing themselves in wielding anxiety. "I meant it as a compliment really. I just- I mean, I wish I could be more like you. You know, carefree and breaking the rules."

Felix's nervous, downturned expression does nothing but enrage him, open drain within him spilling out in hoards of brown and black, the grime-plastered feet of a thousand scuttling Copper State bugs scurrying, puncturing, nesting themselves in his flesh, small pincers burrowing into withered crooks to rot freely. Cradle and decay.

Something hot flashes through his head, imagines with a clarity so profound the feasting of deadened maggots in his brain, sharp, tickling teeth tearing and tearing and tearing away - Beasts of the underworld. His lungs clog themselves, chest constricting. Suddenly Felix seems far, far away.

"I admire you for it," he says, the words muffled and strained to soot-stuffed ears, the sound seeping out the next end like pitiful trails of ink. "Guys find it seductive."

Hyunjin carries himself toward the door before he realizes what he's doing, breathing painful and erratic, door slamming shut with a ferocity that nearly makes him flinch. Of course it's difficult to breathe when his lungs brim with critters!

He stumbles through the corridor, one hand clawing viciously at his own chest, fingernails scratching and itching and please, dear God please let them be strong enough, sharp enough to cut through tainted skin and release the rotted corpses eating away at his body!

Something metallic and bitter floods his mouth, the taste acrid against the rising bile already coating his tongue. Hyunjin pauses, upper body lurching forward as he covers his lips with his other hand, chest heaving as he tries not to vomit.

Sluggishly he makes his way up to his own dressing room, legs collapsing heavily against the floorboards the second he's alone, crumpled heap of bones and stutters slumped against the wall.

Felix didn't mean it like that, he thinks, palms of his hands digging harshly into his eyes, vision blurry with white spots. He doesn't know, doesn't know and yet he's right, he's right, he's right, he's-

Hyunjin grabs at his hair, big, strong fistfuls as he begins to tug, scalp burning painfully the tighter he clutches onto them, the urge to rip away his silk-spun strands overwhelming him with each memory that comes trailing back, writhing themselves with great arrogance into his brain, shoving away everything else until it dissolves itself into rusty powder of meagerness.

He can smell it, he thinks, fresh and old against his nostrils, the smell of flimsy moth-eaten cushions, hot, bland water boiling in the distance, syrupy petals of brittlebush from outside his window, skin the constant, unwavering trail of frankincense - earthly, balsamic, honeylike sweetness to attract insect after insect. The smell of smalltown walls and muggy, sweltering air, the tedious droplets of sweat upon his skin, running down his legs, his chin, mellow as they stick to the worn-out sheets of his bed.

He lies there day after day, oppressive beneath the entrapping heat of his room, breathless through the long exhales of night. Scented by the crawling blandness of sand, he does everything to escape it, to stand out, to allure, to enchant the buzzing mosquito on his wall.

Flowery, ripe, perfect for plucking, his new smell woven nauseatingly into his old one, putrid and sweet, soft enough for a bloodsucker. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

He can taste it too, like tea-soaked cubes of wet brown sugar, salt from his windowpane, bitterness from his mirror, blessed, blessed nectar from backyard sap and the trails of juice from oranges that turn sticky against his fingers, grip hard as they squeeze through the shell.

His lips taste like strawberries in the spring, gentle and fleeting, chocolate in the winter, cornstarch for the summertime, smoothened seeds in the fall, teardrops in the night. Hyunjin can taste them as if unlodging them from his throat, one after one, forgotten no longer, tongue numb and wet from where it lies plastered to his mouth.

He breathes gently against the wall, ribs aching still despite the caution with which he moves. Slowly, he clambers himself to the floor, trying desperately to stand up from where his kneecaps sit firm and rooted.

His mind whirrs in a familiar throb of emptiness, thirsty, thirsty scratches of his skin in longing search of something cool to soothe them with. He knows Jinyoung won't give him any more coke, not after he'd practically inhaled his daily dose already, not after making such a scene over in the desert. It had seemed so long ago, days, years even since he'd ever set foot outside the encircling walls of his dressing room, the air damp and constricting as he wobbles to stand up right.

Everything seems eerily in place, painted by the same timbres and hues as the entrails of his childhood bedroom, wood of the same brittle smoothness, underwear clammy and pretty and itchy against his legs, the cream-colored wallpaper beginning to peel right before his eyes like the tearing of flesh, the staining of teeth.

Something explodes in bounds of sourness inside his mouth, like rotten, acrid pus trickling down his throat. Hyunjin clams a hand over his lips immediately, sprinting to the door and hastily making his way out, the taste only subsiding slightly as the door closes, window to the past still dripping through the crack.

He scurries down the corridor of dressing rooms with a sickened sense of urgency, heart hammering in his chest so profoundly he fears it may come bolting through his skin, eyes flitting everywhere in a desperate attempt to find a lifeline, anything really, to make the putrid stench of vomit disappear from his mouth.

For a second he considers barreling toward Jinyoung's office, knocking on the door and begging on his knees for another line, just one more line please, and he'll do anything, anything, Jinyoung knows he will.

Coke isn't enough. Hyunjin stumbles through the red-tinted darkness, passing lines of other dancers all worriedly sending him glances. He ignores them, shoots instead a sharp glare in their direction, the disgusting taste against his tongue only doubling with each second, the fear that he'll eventually start choking on it overwhelming.

Out of the corner of his eye he can spot the bejeweled figure of someone that makes him almost audibly retch, Minho slipping down the staircase and into the main stage of the club with dark-shaded, razor-sharp eyes.

Hyunjin stills, an idea striking through him suddenly, slithering through the withered cracks of his mind and growing mad and burning in a foolish sense of glory. He continues down the corridor, determined, on the look out, until he halts in front of a familiar door, the letters White Lotus gleaming in an embroidered, graceful ink. Hyunjin slips inside before anyone can notice him, thankful that Minho hasn't bothered to unlock his dressing room.

The inside is a sharp contrast to his own, clothes strewn everyone, makeup items scattered carelessly across his desk, a strange, almost swamping smell of liquor flooding the room. Hyunjin gags, hand back to being clamped tightly over his mouth as he tiptoes his way through, careful not to step or touch anything.

He can't even imagine the germs in here, the air inside undoubtedly sweltering with them in a mound of festering bacteria. He'll have to be quick.

If there's one thing he knows about Minho - despite him being an absolute cunt - it's that he most definitely does not practice sobriety, as controlled and steady as he may appear. He's got to have something in here, he's got to.

Meticulously touching the edge of each drawer handle with as little skin contact as he possibly can, Hyunjin filters through their contents with an almost vicious sense of purpose, the gutted taste on his tongue scorching his mouth to unbearable cinders. His drawers are oddly empty, only littered with small, crumpled notes, pieces of wrapped gum, a pocket-knife, a hairbrush and a little jar filled with M&Ms. What the fuck?

Hyunjin exhales harshly in frustration, carrying himself over to the wardrobe where a large gym bag lies open right in front of it, his head beginning to hurt. There are only clothes in the bag and he doesn't dare touch any of them, eyes starting to pool with the first swell of exasperated tears. He needs something now!

He pushes open the cedarwood of the wardrobe, not actually surprised to find a disarray of cans and empty bottles inside and yet still blinking sluggishly as he takes it in. He considers reaching for one of the half-full liquor bottles, mind screaming at him not to, the smell only propelling the nausea swirling in his gut.

His fingers encircle the head of a bottle, the sharp motion in which he pulls it toward himself making a few of the other bottles clang against each other as one particularly big one falls to the side. A dull thud resounds from where it hits, a strange idea occurring to him as he stares upon the bottom wood panels.

Abandoning the bottle in his clutch, he hits his hand intensely against where the sound had come from, the same echo repeating back to him, hollow and magnificent. Grinning, Hyunjin presses the weight of his palm against one side of the panel until the other comes surging upward, an overflow of satisfaction fluttering inside him.

Eagerly removing the loosened wood panel, Hyunjin peers inside the hollowed out space, multiple small tin boxes scattered around as he picks one up carefully. Opening the lid, Hyunjin breathes out a desperate sigh of relief as he spots the white powder neatly tucked inside. He doesn't waste time, quickly lining up a row on the floor as he snorts it fervently, awful taste in his mouth already lightening with each delicious burn of his nostril.

He does three lines before placing the tin back inside and moving on to the next one, dusting off the floorboards carefully so as to not leave any traces. The next one smells familiar the second the picks it up, overwhelming scent of marijuana surging through him. He puts it down before opening the last one, box shiny and of a light, matted blue.

Inside are mounds of tiny, colorful circular pills, the array of different shades sharp against the gray-tinted dullness of the box. He pops a green one in his mouth immediately, heart pounding wildly as he starts putting everything back in place, queasiness overcoming him at the prospect of Minho suddenly entering.

It isn't the first time Hyunjin has had the pleasure of tasting the powdery imprints of a molly-pill against his tongue and yet it feels for some reason as though he's never truly experienced their raptures until this very moment, body all but sprinting to the door and letting himself out, breaths of relief exhaling in short tufts of gratitude the moment he's back outside unnoticed.

The repugnance in his mouth seeps away quietly and with ease, replacing itself inside with the pooling rush of a sweet, honeyed saliva.

Hyunjin pours himself into the feeling with the same conviction as always, an easy, simple task really, as natural as the process of breathing, slow and gradual and so, so good. He makes his way down to the main area of the club once more, the corset tight and hot against his skin, heart pounding so loudly he thinks it might be a part of the reverberating bassline thudding through the club.

His feet bounce through the jungle of plush velvet couches and pole-adorned stages, airy and weightless, the scuttling insects in his skin crushed with the mere blade of pleasure, his chest untied and stomach coiling enticingly.

The spilling, colorful lights flashing through the darkness like seductive, hypnotizing beacons of thrill spin welcomely in his vision, his veins buzzing with electricity as he tries to spot an empty stage, slinking his way toward it, fingers grazing along his corset in a sharpened yet sensual restlessness.

Before he makes it to the pole, an arm touches him lightly from behind, his body spinning around to find a nerve-rattled Felix in front of him, eyes wide and swarming in fear.

"Felix!" Hyunjin grins, grabbing one of his hands and clutching it between his own two palms excitedly, mind pinched thin and high in a floating, fluttering sensation dancing its way through his bones.

Felix only looks at him bewildered, eyebrows scrunching together slightly as his lips start to pout, eyes scanning up and down in a rapid confusion. He opens his mouth, then closes it, deciding against whatever he was about to say before leaning in to shout, the sound of his voice still barely audible through all the music and laughter. "I've been looking all over for you. We're booked for a private room!"

"You look amazing!" He shouts back, hands grabbing at the sparkling, dangling streams of crystals hanging from the fabric against his body, plunging neckline deep and revealing from the gemstone-covered outfit, the illusion heavy with that of a swimsuit. "Is this new?"

Felix's forehead creases as his eye pop even wider, burrowed in perplexity before he grabs onto Hyunjin's hand and starts leading him away from the crowd, the two of them parting away mingling customers like waves of the Red Sea as they make their way toward the corridor of Silver Rooms.

Felix seems entirely too focused on where they're walking, pace steadfast and determined as Hyunjin stumbles through behind him, eyes flitting everywhere they go. He sends some staring sucker a flying kiss before they walk into the restricted area, throat airy with light remnants of laughter.

Felix stops suddenly in front of a room and turns rapidly back to look at him again, eyes still crawling with something far too serious for Hyunjin's liking. Before he gets the chance to speak, Hyunjin leans in and yells, the sound of his voice way too loud in the sudden lack of pounding music. "Where's Changbin?"

Felix almost jumps from the volume but composes himself immediately. "I told him to look for you." He scans him quickly up and down once more, lips pursing in concern. Why does he keep staring at him like that? "You know what we're doing, right?"

"Of course." Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but grins along in playfulness. He was born for this, how could he not know what to do? "How important are they?"

"Not very, but their dads are," Felix points, head turning to the side as if able to see through the door. He looks back up at him, forehead still creased. "I would tell you to play nice but...seems like you already got that covered."

Felix glances at him for a second before turning the door handle as if waiting for him to do something, though what Hyunjin isn't quite sure. He only smirks back lazily, his skin tingling pleasantly the minute they step inside the quiet, almost serene expansion of sultry sensuality, lights perfectly dimmed to hone the imagination, couches perfectly plush to sink into.

There are only two customers inside, already reclined and sipping on drinks they must've ordered beforehand, both pleasantly young, both pleasantly handsome. Hyunjin's grin expands itself easily, body slinking down next to the one with dark, wispy hair, a white cotton shirt and what appears to be expensive designer shoes as Felix takes the other, conversation flowing effortlessly.

Hyunjin indulges in the game all too willingly this time, their arrogance and leering gazes like faint murmuring against his ear, unbothered, ignited as he plays into their hands, laughter tittering from his throat in boundless creases as he leans into the man's side, chest constricting as he giggles. Apparently he had said something undeniably funny, yet Hyunjin forgets what it was immediately, the calloused hand on his thigh stroking higher and higher as he whispers something in his ear.

Hyunjin lets him, completely forgetting the fact that someone else is in the room as well, a grove of scents momentarily overwhelming him, amber, cedarwood, swirls of delicious, summer borne grapefruit that tingles against his lips, almost as if he could taste it if he were to lean in, let them explode against his tongue like a thousand bursting grapes to water his throat, smooth, fresh juice slithering down his tonsils and yes, he's thirsty, so so thirsty, mouth scorching in a sudden dryness, barren from years and years spent wasted buried in the sand fields and fuck- Hyunjin presses his hand against the man's chest, trailing toward the exposed strip of skin from where the shirt lies unbuttoned at the top, his eyes following Hyunjin's lips with hungry yearning.

Hyunjin smirks, pressing his body into his even closer, Mr. Cologne's grip on his thigh tightening in response. The sweet fragrances of something warm and rich wash over him like tidal waves, eyes threatening to roll all the way to the back of his head as he purrs against his ear, hands running all over his chest.

Lightheaded, out-of-body, Hyunjin crawls his way into his lap, straddling him with panting need, the man's hands flying to his waist immediately. Rough. Possessive. Hyunjin giggles in response, eyes scrunching up endearingly before he lets his head fall back in momentary exhaustion. Fuck, he's so thirsty.

He thinks he's vaguely aware of Felix dancing on the pole in the middle of the room, the other guy undoubtedly paying close attention but really, how can he focus on anything when it just smells so good, stomach coiling in sugary streams of pleasure, body floating off somewhere to a dreamlike distance.

Hyunjin stands up momentarily, feet grounding him to the floor as he starts to unbutton his shorts, lips smirking and eyes hooded as he drags the fabric down, slowly, tantalizingly. Mr. Cologne's eyes follow his hands like the road to pure, sweet damnation and Hyunjin struggles not to start laughing again, his heel kicking away the piece of fabric once it's discarded on the floor.

It's just a strip tease, he thinks, fingers playing temptingly with the hem of his cream-colored underwear, panties really, from how snugly they fit against his skin.

He slinks his way back into the man's lap, mind unfurling itself in the blooming of a springtime meadow, basked in cascading streams of sunlight and the hypnotizing aroma of divinely nurtured flora, everything so, so good, he wants to taste it, needs to taste it, his upper body bending forward to press itself against the man's chest, mouth dipping to his neck as he licks a long, sensual stripe up to his jaw.

Fuck. Hyunjin moans against his skin, the sound like that of the old church's belltower's chiming into trembles of holy reminder, the taste even better than he expected, small drops of sinful honey, sticky and glorious on his tongue like melted caramel, sugarcane syrup, everything rotten and wonderful to his candy-depraved mind and Hyunjin is greedy, yes he's always been greedy, needing more and more and more-

Mr. Cologne stares at him with an ignited mixture of excitement and disbelief as if he can't quite fathom what's happening, the other man's attention on him too by now, his moaning undoubtedly having drawn him away from whatever he had busied himself with earlier.

"You taste so good," Hyunjin breathes out, chest constricting with light-hearted giggles at the man's open-mouthed, dumbfounded expression.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, composing himself from his surprise quickly, face back to the handsome, cocky expression it had been wielded with before.

Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, eyes alit and lips stretched into a numb, blissful smile. "Boring," he chirps, hands dragging themselves down his shirt seductively, down, down, down until they reach the clasp of his belt, fingers dancing along the leather teasingly. "I'm sure you can think of something better than that."

The man's eyes widen in astounded delight, his hands clutching against his waist in a fervent enthusiasm, pupils inflamed and enraptured. "Seriously?"

Hyunjin only laughs, hands fiddling to undo the belt when a sudden voice from behind him makes him jump in surprise, his neck snapping back to see an alarmed looking Felix having entirely abandoned the pole by now. "Sorry, but we don't offer those kinds of services."

Mr. Cologne looks at him confused, eyes flitting back and forth between him and Hyunjin with a clear mixture of perplexity. The other man is looking at the unfolding conversation in front of him with a passioned captivation, clearly interest in the answer.

"Don't listen to him," Hyunjin says, finally unclasping the belt. Felix looks positively panicked by now.

"We really don't," he stresses, walking up next to Hyunjin and shooting him an exasperated look. The poor man struggling to restrain himself in his lap seems entirely unsure of what to do, his eyes flickering back to Hyunjin with obvious desire.

"We can do lap dances and strip teases-" Felix explains, voice scattered with more and more nerves as Hyunjin starts unbuttoning the man's shirt, nails scratching pleasantly against his hardened chest.

The other man, the light-haired one, stares open-mouthed at the two of them before breaking out in astonished laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "Holy shit. How much is that gonna cost?"

"On the house," Hyunjin smirks, the three simple words it seems to take for Mr. Cologne to throw whatever small remnants of caution he had left to the wind, hands flying to his back to start undrawing the strings of his corset. Felix gapes at them, face white-stricken and in shock. Hyunjin's eyes flutter shut, addicting scent overwhelming him once more. So so good.

All of the sudden he feels a sharp grasp seize his arm tightly, his eyes flying open to find an agitated Felix only inches from his face. "Hyunjin," he grits out, voice low and far too grave. "What. Are. You. Doing?"

His name seems to momentarily draw him out of his spellbound concoction of bliss, something sharp and with needled edges puncturing him from the inside. They're never supposed to call each other their real names in front of customers, rule number one.

Hyunjin glares back at Felix, ripples of ugly, faintly carved memories brewing dangerously in his chest, his jaw tightening painfully as a dark strip of light filters across his face. All of the sudden he feels the sudden urge to spit in it.

"Breaking the rules," he sneers, tingling sensation from before turning hardened and brittle like slowly infused lead. Fuck. He can barely smell the amber anymore. "Isn't that something you wanted to do?"

Felix stares at him in disbelief, head shaking slowly as if unsure of what to say and then, with a sharp click of his jaw, his voice comes out loud and clear, eyes almost steely with determination. "No, we are not doing this. You're crossing the line." He turns to the customers with a pleading look in his eye, as if begging them to cooperate. "I'm sorry gentlemen, but we do not solicit-"

"Then go somewhere else," Hyunjin cuts him off, leaning back in to his client's possessive hold, flashing an alluring grin to the other man staring at them. He just wants to inhale all the goodness of a hot, damp summertime once more. "I can take them both."

"What-"

Felix's screech gets drowned out by the eager noise of both sets of belts coming off, the hands untying his corset working at a rapid, vigorous speed as he leans back in to start licking stripes against his neck.

Hyunjin moans once more, friction tantalizing as he rocks back and forth on his lap, unsure really of anything else, thoughts and dues too far away for him to reach, the only thing that exists in this small, heavenly lapse of time, the way he feels, heart pounding loudly against his ribcage, buzzing, energetic, mouth-watering in the desperate need for something wet and delicious and he's so so thirsty again and-

The sound of the door slamming rings blaringly throughout the room, Hyunjin jumping from where he sits enraptured in the hold of the dark-haired man, eyes wide and in shock as he turns around to find an absolutely enraged bodyguard glaring back at them.

Felix looks small and shrunk from where he's pressed against the wall, eyes fluttering nervously as he stares at him. He must have pressed the emergency button. Hyunjin's jaw tightens, his eyes sharpening like serrated slits of something honed and welded with the purpose to cut, the urge to start screaming overflowing his no longer perfumed-clogged lungs.

"Alright, show's over," Changbin grits out, making his way forward as the two men stare up at him in panicked bewilderment. Hyunjin would've moved away instantly if not for the red-hot fury simmering inside of him at the way Changbin storms over, unsympathetic eyes and sturdy, unwavering build entirely too intimidating.

"But he-" The dark-haired man insists, hands drawn back to his chest as if never having touched him at all, voice scattered with increasing seeds of fear.

"I don't care, get out," Changbin grits, and Hyunjin feels himself almost carelessly pushed off his lap, stumbling slightly as he's forced back on his feet, stance unmoving and mind far too sluggish from the interruption to process what's happening. Mr. Cologne starts pulling up his pants hastily, hands fumbling with the belt as Hyunjin stares at him dumbly. Since when had his pants come down?

The other man, the light-haired one, seems more reluctant to move, forehead creased in clear frustration as he laughs in disbelief. "This is bullshit, he told us we could-"

"And he's clearly out of it, so get the fuck out of this club before I have to drag you out myself!" Changbin yells, face contorting in a frightening rage, stance threatening and ready to move at any given second.

It seems to do the trick, the other client finally doing as told with an infuriated grumble beneath his breath, shooting Changbin a glare before they're roughly escorted out of the room. The door slams shut as Changbin ushers them out, Felix only giving him a strange, almost fearful look before leaving as well, the silence pounding painfully against his ear once he's all alone.

Incensed and with shaky, trembling fingers he pulls up his shorts ungracefully before walking out of the room, back leaning against the door as he stares angrily at the dark, gold-woven wallpaper in front of him. Stupid fucking Felix and his fucking morality-

"What the fuck?"

Hyunjin snaps his neck up to look at Changbin's anger-twisted face, apparently back already to hover over him like the plague. Hyunjin seethes, outrage billowing through his veins so hard his skin starts to tingle once more. "Why the fuck did you interrupt me?!"

Changbin looks at him like his eyes might come popping out of their sockets. "Are you kidding me?!"

"No," Hyunjin spits, arms flying everywhere. The pit in his stomach starts rolling in nausea, all feelings of light, floaty goodness squashed to mighty pulp with the ardency of his fist. "Fuck you. You're so fucking- God! This is none of your business!"

"This is precisely my business!" Changbin yells, eyes inflamed as he stares unfalteringly. "Felix pressed the fucking button!"

Hyunjin scowls, his jaw aching as he spits, tongue scorching in its drought. "Felix is a prude and shouldn't be working here!"

"This isn't a brothel and you know that." Changbin points, words sharp and steely as he utters them with hostility, almost as if scolding an incessantly disobedient child. Hyunjin knows better than anyone that this isn't a brothel, his mind frothing with fury. Changbin knows nothing! "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Hyunjin laughs, mocking, cruel exhales of breathlessness exuding from his lips as his head starts to feel dizzy, the embroidery in the wallpaper behind him beginning to swirl. "Oh I'm sorry your highness has been forced to breathe the same air as the common whore-"

Changbin scoffs, cutting him off, eyes marred in incredulity. "You are unbelievable. If there's anyone acting entitled here, it's you!"

"Entitled?" His stomach clenches in agony for a brief moment, steady swelling of nausea overwhelming him. He ignores it. "I was just giving them what they wanted!"

"You could have seriously gotten hurt, you don't know those guys!" Changbin looks at him so earnestly then Hyunjin almost doubles over in fits of pity-bound laughter, as if fully and wholeheartedly believing words of such foolishness.

"Oh please, what were they gonna do?" He snorts, back falling to rest against the wall again for momentary support. He feels shaky. "Give me a lousy orgasm?"

"You're so-"

Changbin swallows his words the minute protruding footsteps begin to tatter from the side of the corridor, face composing itself into a barely-upheld mask of self-possession as Jinyoung's figure comes looming into the light, feet clearly headed somewhere in what he can only assume to be business-like determination before stopping abruptly, eyebrows furrowing once he gets sight of them.

"What's going on here?" Jinyoung looks at Changbin quizzically and then back at him, eyes unclouding as he speaks in that awful tone of seriousness, boss before anything else. Hyunjin swallows the urge to roll his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be in a private room right now?"

"I-"

Changbin interrupts him, voice only slightly strained as he speaks with great control. "The customers were getting too handsy." Hyunjin shoots him an angry look as Changbin continues. He thinks he can see his hands wringing themselves in restlessness beneath his carefully appointed glare. "Felix pressed the button, I kicked them out."

"Oh." The cogs in Jinyoung's head begin to spin into place as his eyes widen in momentary surprise, gaze falling onto Hyunjin with an unnerving gleam swimming beneath the pearly light of his pupils. It was the same as before, when he'd read that letter. Hyunjin forces down his bile. "Good, then. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he grits out, teeth suddenly heavy and agonizing from where they rest dryly in the coves of his mouth. His jaw hurts, the pain barreling into his skull.

"And Felix?" Jinyoung asks after an excruciating stretch of silence, eyes finally flitting away from his own to look at Changbin instead.

"He's fine, yeah," Changbin quips, voice oddly dull and void of emotion as if trying a little too hard to hold back his anger. "Nothing happened."

Jinyoung looks at him satisfied before pursing his lips, forehead still creased in concern as he shoots Hyunjin another look, back straightening itself soon after as he gestures his head to the direction in front of them, figure retreating toward the end of the corridor with the same unyielding, purposeful steps as before.

Hyunjin watches with a feeling of illness brewing in his gut as Jinyoung opens the door at the very end and slips behind it before turning abruptly on his heel and letting his face screw up maliciously once more, finger pointed furiously at Changbin. "What the fuck was that?!"

Changbin's eyes widen, expression back to the one he'd worn before, voice grating with an irate ferocity. Thank God the private rooms are soundproof. "What?"

"Why did you lie?!" Hyunjin seethes, arms flailing wildly once more, the sensation in his gut only turning sicker and sicker by the second. What the fuck was wrong with this dude? "I don't need you to speak for me!"

Disbelieving and incensed Changbin only stares at him in a wide-eyed exasperation, clearly unable to fathom such petulant ungratefulness. Hyunjin wants to shove him against the wall. "So you wouldn't get in trouble!"

Clasping his hands together, Hyunjin raises them and starts swinging them upward in mocking flattery, eyes droopy and lips pouty in exaggeration. "Wow, my knight in shining armor!" His muscles quickly jump back into ones of firmly set resentment, mouth pooling in foul-tasting saliva. "I don't need you to save me from anything."

"I just don't think Jinyoung would have been very happy, is all," Changbin snaps, eyes so sharp and narrow Hyunjin would've started laughing at his words if not for with the gravity in which he spoke.

"What do you know about how he would have reacted?" His jaw clicks once more, the vicious clenching beginning to ache in a horrid dullness. His eyes flutter momentarily shut, just with the speed of a second, before he opens them again, shrugging off the feeling with great strain. "He wouldn't have cared!"

"Well considering the fact that you're sleeping with him, I think he might've!"

Hyunjin stares back, stunned, mouth slacking open as he tries to process the untethered rage across Changbin's expression, words slapping him in the face with an almost incredulous sense of ridiculousness. For a second even Changbin seems surprised at what he'd said, but composes himself rapidly, eyes stony once more and dripping with bitterness.

"What?!" Hyunjin laughs, voice littered with disbelief. What does Jinyoung have to do with anything? "So?! We're not exclusive!"

"He's clearly possessive over you!" Changbin looks frustrated now, the conviction with which he speaks faltering slightly. Hyunjin can feel his insides start to tie themselves together at this point, headache unraveling at the speed of light the longer he tries to make sense of anything. He should know better than to contemplate things when high.

"Why do you care?!" He yells, exasperation coating his words.

"I just-" Changbin hesitates, eye contact wavering as he momentarily flickers his gaze to the side, staring at the bottomless pit of the corridor. When he looks back it's with a quieter, reserved sense of finality. Something flashes within his eyes but it disappears too quickly, Hyunjin blundering at trying to catch it. "I imagine he wouldn't have wanted to know."

Hyunjin scrunches up his nose in disgust at the implication, the sour feeling in his mouth beginning to fester. "Ew, he does not have feelings for me and it's none of your business regardless!" Who does he think he is to even speak on something like that?! "Just stay out of it, I swear to God!"

Changbin looks pointedly on the brink of rupturing by now, exhaustion and anger weaving themselves harmoniously across his face. "I was just doing my job!"

"Your job does not include standing up for me!" Fuck, his jaw is really starting to hurt now, fuck, fuck, fuck! Why can't everybody just leave him the fuck alone?!

"Yes it does!"

"Not like that!" Hyunjin clenches his teeth together painfully, the stretching ache only subsiding slightly before erupting back to life once more. The urge to collapse onto the floor and start clawing viciously at his jaw starts to engulf him, mind ticking and whirring in a familiar sense of urgency, of need, of things being right.

"Duly noted." Is all Changbin says, bitter and sharp, before he turns his back to him and starts walking out of the hallway, words echoing in their rusted wake as Hyunjin watches his figure retreat out the door in a similar way he'd looked at Jinyoung.

Hyunjin's gut sours the same, putrid smelling illness alive and well once more. Yet relief does not overcome him at being left alone as it had in what felt like a lifetime ago, the feeling plummeting and rupturing with seeds of dread as it settles within his bones.

He continues to stare at the door, unnerved, restless by how firmly it remains closed. He diverts his gaze back to the wallpaper instead, golden curves like beacons of something beautiful and unattainable in the inky shadows of darkness on its trails. Hyunjin sears the pattern into his mind, body unmoving for what feels like hours and hours. Only when his jaw begins to ache again, do his feet begin to stir.

 

-

 

Arriving home after a shift is usually a commonplace, tiring set of blood-fueled rituals he has to complete before falling to sleep's unsettling lull to illusions of painlessness and yet something different, something gaunt and deeply, alarmingly daunting seems to have awakened within him this time, footsteps light and jittery as he steps into his dimly-lit apartment complex.

Hyunjin sighs as soon as he's in the elevator, legs threatening to collapse beneath him. His reflection looks positively wrecked as he catches sight of it in the mirror, his oversized, baggy sweats doing nothing at feigning normalcy, eyes smudged in blackened streaks of makeup, lips swollen and cracked as if having been bit to shreds by sharpened, murder-seeking teeth. They have, he thinks, even if they were his own.

Stepping out onto his floor he starts fishing forward his keys, the sound of them clinging against each other sharp and jarring to his ears. His comedown had been especially ugly, mouth still unbearably dry and gut still oppressively nauseous.

He hopes some crackers will settle its restlessness despite his blaring lack of hunger, mind withered down to a splitting rope of blunted anger and feeling of repulsiveness. He should apologize to Felix, he thinks, yet his gut burns furiously as his face flashes through him, angelic lips curving and sneering as they spit out sinful word after sinful word.

Hyunjin swallows the memory, feet coming to a halt as he arrives at his door, fingers untangling the keys as he sets down his gym bag, jaw yawning, tired, tired, tired-

His heart freezes, blood running cold as he notices the shining strip of light cascading from the gap in his front door, his opened, unlocked front door - just barely, just barely enough for him to notice and yet there it is, his apartment opened and gleaming in lights.

Retreating back with his heart in his throat, Hyunjin clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes bulging and stomach twisting as his heels hit the wall. Someone is in his apartment. Someone is in his apartment.

Frozen, a shaky, slithering sensation running all over him, he stands there rooted against the bleakness of the hallway, a horrible, horrible piercing terror seizing him in the inability to act, to think, to breathe.

Hyunjin has dealt with his fair share of gruesome horrors that have awaited him on the other side of the doors life had confined him in, anxious nights spent slumbering in the muddled escape of sleep, quiet and wide-eyed as he'd let the bumps in the ceiling engrave themselves into his mind, the clock ticking with mocking whispers, tick tock, tick tock, which creature was scratching their nails at the other side of the wood, who would it be this time, tick tock, tick tock.

He knows, Hyunjin thinks, who'd be obsessed enough to break into his apartment and yet the possibility of being wrong bleeds through him, nerves rattled and mounting on top of each other, the sudden fear of a familiar monster seeping through the cracks in his wall puncturing him all over.

It can't be, surely not, he doesn't know where he lives, it has to be his stalker, it has to be. Shakily drawing forth his phone his fingers linger across the keypad, dread surmounting him with the idea of calling the police. He doesn't trust cops, not after the boundless shadows that followed him of seventeen, teeth biting harshly against his bottom lip as he continues to stare down in hesitation.

Hyunjin has seen his stalker - spindly, tall, abysmally average, surely he couldn't be strong enough to...well, whatever he was intending on doing. The putrid, sour stench from before comes crawling back into his mouth, gut rolling in unrelenting waves of nausea.

Before he lets himself contemplate enough to regret it, Hyunjin searches frantically through his pocket for the paper-slip he'd received many weeks ago, lungs sighing in audible relief once he finds that it's still there. He sends Changbin a message with shaky, trembling fingers, eyes flitting rapidly back and forth between his phone and the door right in front of him.

It's Hyunjin. He doesn't even particularly expect an answer, not when it's so late, not after they'd hurled their fire-spitting tongues toward each other all night. There's someone in my apartment.

And yet the phone buzzes in response almost immediately, the simple words 'On my way' glinting brightly through the lack of light in the hallway, his stomach whirring in anxious anticipation as he lets the message burn itself into his eyes.

He texts back his address quickly, feet moving urgently down the corridor and back into the elevator, following it with an unsteadily typed 'I'll meet you in the lobby.'

His reflection looks even bleaker in the mirror than before, eyes visibly exhausted, smoky makeup still smudged and messy. It almost looks as if he's been crying streams of mascara-tinted tears. Hyunjin wipes roughly at his skin with the sleeve of his hoodie, mind far too doused in numbing ice and static to care about his clothing potentially getting dirty.

It works a little, yet his eyes turn red from all the rubbing and what he imagines to be a good lack of sleep as well. Now it actually does look like he's been crying. Fuck. It's the last thing he wants Changbin to think.

His legs struggle not to buckle beneath him as he waits in the lobby, stomach rumbling and clenching in jittery billows of nerves as he paces impatiently back and forth. Changbin arrives a few minutes later, his knocking figure from the glass-doors almost startling him as he inhales a sharp breath, walking toward the entrance and letting him inside.

Hyunjin looks at him in suspension, his hair slightly unruly and disheveled, wearing still the same clothes as from the club, tight-fitted black t-shirt and matching-colored pants, tattoos gleaming viciously from the strips of streetlights cascading through the glass. Hyunjin assumes he must not have had time to have go home and change.

"Are you okay?" Changbin asks him, voice scratchy and rough as if not having spoken in days. There's a clear string of withering tension brewing beneath something mutually repressed, the eyes in which Hyunjin stares into unreadable once more. He only nods in response, pursing his lips, regret already folding throughout him.

"I think it's my stalker," Hyunjin says, gaze flickering down to stare at the floor. "He knows where I live. He used to send me letters here." He looks back up again, Changbin's jaw clenched tightly together. He seems to be thinking intently, of what Hyunjin has no idea, only watches him nod in a hardened, stretching silence before he finally speaks up.

"Stay behind me at all times, yeah?" And then he's walking, brisk, determined steps toward the elevator as Hyunjin can but trail after him in trepidation, the coils in his stomach stiffening so harshly he fears he might actually faint from the pain, body collapsing against the walls of the elevator the moment they're inside.

Hyunjin stares at him through hooded, sluggish eyes almost as if detached from where he stands, skin prickling uncomfortably at what awaits them upstairs. "I uh," he starts, Changbin's gaze falling onto his the minute he speaks, eyes grave and chasmic. It almost makes him want to look away. "I don't really trust the police."

Changbin nods, seemingly understanding. "I get it." Silence, and then. "You did the right thing texting me. You don't know what this guy's capable of."

"He doesn't look very strong," Hyunjin quips, fear still injecting themselves like paralyzing needles into his veins, his words but futile whispers that fall gracelessly to the floor. The idea does nothing to calm him down.

"Doesn't matter," Changbin says, voice a little clearer, a little less restrained from the underlying tension between them. "You never know what someone might do. He could have a gun, a knife, who knows? Mace even, which by the way, I heavily think you should invest in."

Hyunjin's heart rate spikes up substantially once the elevator pings on the right floor, doors sliding open like the impending gates of whatever doom-filled afterworld he's being sent to. "You think he could have a gun?" He hisses lowly, stomach so leaden with ice he doesn't think he'll be able to move.

Changbin starts walking out of the elevator, arms moving behind his back to tap at his belt and Hyunjin's eyes double in size, mouth falling open once he spots the barely noticeable handle of a black gun camouflaged against his shirt, the barrel and lever tucked snugly into his jeans.

Changbin turns around to look at him then, gaze sharpened and edged in a way he's never seen before. All of the sudden it strikes him how little about Changbin he actually knows.

"Don't worry," he says, though the steeliness with which he speaks does nothing to calm his nerves. "I brought one too." Then, at the bewildered, almost frightened expression Hyunjin can imagine he's sporting, Changbin's tone softens slightly, eyes mellowing in earnest. "Just in case. I promise I won't touch it unless absolutely necessary."

Hyunjin only nods and swallows, following Changbin's steadfast figure as he walks toward his apartment door, eyes flitting repeatedly back down to the small, black handle slipping below his belt.

Everything feels entirely too serious, too lumbering with consequences as they reach the correct door, Changbin repeatedly telling him in a low-voiced finality to stay behind him before pushing it open with a swift weightlessness, the lights from inside spilling out like knocked-over candles eager to submerge them in flames.

Slowly, guardedly, Changbin treads his way into his apartment, fingers skimming along the handle on his lower back, ready to pull it out at any second. Hyunjin stays close behind him with an increasing surge of bile scratching at his throat. His heart hammers louder and louder the further into his apartment they walk, Changbin stopping abruptly before stretching out his left arm as if to stop Hyunjin from continuing.

He steps to the side on instinct, trying his hardest to remain composed at the sight of his stalker in all his miserable glory through the open doorframe of his bedroom, his dulled, bug-like eyes simmering with an enthusiastic, yet unnerved sort of beam.

His sickly pale-skinned face morphs into a wide stretching grin once he notices Hyunjin's presence, body turning toward him as if ready to pounce. "Hyunjin!"

"Get out," Changbin hisses, serrated and sharp, his stalker's eyes glaring at him in obvious resentment, yet his posture seems to falter. Then, visibly choosing to ignore Changbin, he turns his gaze back to him, Hyunjin's blood running cold at the buzzing electricity swirling inside of them.

He's seen them many times before, ignited, sweaty and wet with a sick desperation nurturing their sight, always flashing beneath dark, changing colors and yet he'd paid them no mind, laughed even at such patheticness.

Now, beneath the bleak lights of his perfectly clean, perfectly right apartment, they seem much more crazed than before, the idea that they might come crawling out of their sockets to taint his floor flourishing in his mind like that of a wilted flower forced to keep itself upright.

"Hyunjin, who's this?" He asks, gesturing his head to Changbin, expression deepening in displeasure as a thought seems to strike him. "Are you fucking him too?"

Hyunjin's mouth falls open, but before he gets the chance to say anything Changbin starts speeding toward him, voice no longer deadly in a controlled sort of lethalness but loud and yelling in a long-withheld ruptured anger. "Okay, get out now! I already warned you once!"

His stalker flinches visibly, but the insistence on his face remains steady and intact, feet retreating to create a larger distance between the two. Hyunjin only watches in dumbfounded silence, Changbin's expression growing more and more outraged by the second.

"I want to talk to Hyunjin, not you!" His stalker shouts, eyes gleaming with more fear than his voice, his neck snapping back to look up at Hyunjin, shiny and hopeful. Hyunjin thinks he's going to vomit. "Did you read my letters?"

Changbin starts walking toward him again, muscles flexing threateningly as his arms begin to whip upward in rage. "I'm serious, if you don't shut your mouth right now-"

"You fucking freak!" Hyunjin yells, blinded, possessed by a sudden force of anger, years and years of the blistering marsh brewing inside of him denotating at last, its splinters cutting through the polluted air like the first cinders of a storm. Both his stalker and Changbin turn to stare at him with obvious shock. "Get out of my apartment! Like I would ever touch you!"

Hyunjin thinks he sees his stalker's little face go through multiple stages of grief as he stands there, pallid and ghostlike as shadows of disappointment trickle through him like dissolving raindrops, pure, horrified disbelief striking through him, then a swallowing sense of defeat and at last, as what always remains in the wreckage of agony left behind - anger.

"I could treat you right!" He yells, face contorting into something pained and twisted as his arms flail ferociously in hollow frustration. "And yet you go for these muscular meatheads who only think with their dicks and leave you when it's over! You whores are all the same-"

Hyunjin barely has time to register such revulsion-spewed words, let alone let them linger in his mind to contemplate the extent of their bitterness as other, more pressing matters unfurl within him instead, the horrid, almost crunching sound of Changbin's fist colliding with blemished flesh overriding his senses, his body jumping back in shock as his stalker's body falls twitchingly against the floor from the force.

Relentless, haunted perhaps by a spirit unknown to even the wretched depths of Hyunjin's own tar-covered anger, Changbin continues with a vicious conviction as he charges with hit after hit, arms stony and ritualistic as he lets his stalker splatter to pieces of his own choked up blood.

His limbs twitch futilely from where they now lie in a heap of oozing red, Changbin's fists beating and beating and unstoppable in their own destruction, the sound foul and grisly as it continues to expand, blood-covered knuckles against teeth, incessant, deep-scratched grunting, pained, agonized whimpering until his stalker stills at last, collapsed in a mound of unmoving bones as Changbin continues to hammer down.

Panic seizes him instantly, the rage flashing in Changbin's eyes still not diminishing despite the frozen pile of limbs clutching helplessly at the floor. "Stop!" Hyunjin screams, ribcage pounding in fear, strangled sense of dread overcoming him. "Stop it!"

Only at the sound of his voice does Changbin finally seem to halt, hands bruised and covered in splattered blood as he stands there rigid and lifeless, eyes trained upon the body of his stalker, chest heaving rapidly up and down.

Changbin looks up at him then, at his desperate, terror-pearled face and the burning lividness tainting his vision simmers down immediately, eyes pooling downward almost as if sad, regretful he'd chipped away at the purposefully hidden strips of himself only allowed to flourish beneath the shadowed moonlight, such sacred secrets now open and bare for Hyunjin to see.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he says, eyes shining with a woeful disappointment, voice groggy and quiet even through the deafening silence stretching between them.

Hyunjin stares at him, in the truthful, mourning rawness of his gaze, the muscles of his face, every little twitch and crevice, every string of sincerity he thinks he's always been tethered with, even when arguing, even when incensed.

"It's okay," is all he can respond, his heart beating strangely against his chest as he says it. He can't tell if it's from fear or something else. "Thank you."

Changbin nods, swallowing harshly before averting his gaze back to the body, his stalker thrashing lightly as he begins to cough. Before he has the chance to weakly stand up, Changbin crouches down and hauls him upward, flinging him across his bag like a sack of flour, his stalker's face disoriented and green as he tries to make sense of what's happening.

"I'll take him outside," he mutters, though the words ring loud and clear as he starts walking toward the door. Hyunjin stares at him forlornly, shocked, void, almost, of anything but the twisting hammering in his ribcage.

He looks briefly down at the red-spattered patches of his otherwise pristine floor, the dark liquid looping and curving in incoherent, monstrous patterns. He thinks he can see a couple of teeth strewn within there too. Still the urge to sigh crumbles inside him altogether. He knows it'll be long until he can sleep. He has cleaning to do.

Then, as the creak of the door handle begins to turn, Hyunjin snaps his neck back up again, his words barely able to utter themselves before Changbin firmly leaves, a soft, almost cotton-numbing "Good night" leaving his lips the second the door slams shut, body dazed and buzzing all at the same time.

He isn't sure if Changbin heard him, isn't sure if he wants him to have heard him, the echoes of his whisper like sulfurous air ready to choke him should he decide to start breathing in.

It isn't until late, deep and velvety into the pollution-woven night where he sits focused on his knees, arms burning as they scrub and scrub and scrub at his floor that he receives a message on his phone, the sound almost hypnotizing through the rhythm of his ragged breathing.

Good night, princess.

Hyunjin blinks, unsmiling, unfeeling. Still does he read it over and over again before succumbing at last to the outstretching repose of night's idle, drowsing glimpses of sleep. Dreamless, exhausted, Hyunjin feels anything but calm.

He buries the sensation within him like a long-tended wound. Still something besides sun borne salt and tears scratches at it with a pious devotion. He doesn't know, any longer, if he can ignore it then.

Notes:

tensions are risinggg y’all 🫢🤭 and i promise changbin’s daughter is going to make an appearance very soon 😙

see you next monday 💕

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 5: Carnality

When Hyunjin wakes up to the harsh flicker of his sun-emitting curtains, he does so strangely with a heavy, droopy heart, an unusual valley of dread woven throughout his veins. Funnily enough it is with a sense of emptiness and numbing skin that renders him incapable of pinpointing exactly what it is, this peculiar, no longer murky in the distance pearl of foreboding, a blazing star bejeweled and reflected with things that make him dizzy hurling toward him at an alarming speed. He thinks it's been there for a while, brewing, polishing itself, biding precious time before knocking him out with one swift gust of air.

Hyunjin hunches himself back to life with jarring cracks of his bones, muscles exhausted and worn out from yesterday's misdeeds, the memories crumpling themselves back to a horrid vividness in his mind, their creases groaning and creaking as he starts to let them fester.

He makes his way out of his bedroom groggily, the reflection in his bathroom mirror doing nothing to pacify the grumbling in his stomach, eyes puffy and tired, skin dull and hued with a deadened, wispy gray.

Hyunjin thinks he must have spent almost twice the amount of time completing his morning rituals, scrubbing and scrubbing everywhere, the need to feel clean, feel beautiful overwhelming him in painful spurts of migraines whenever he allows himself to start thinking about it too much.

His hands are steady and meticulous as he applies his creams and lotions to precision, desperate and indented as he longs to feel the sacred touch of the fluttery wings from which the Blue Clipper grazes itself across his skin once more.

Light, feathery, entwined with threads of a natural divinity, Hyunjin thinks he would do anything to make sure such bewitching drops of dreamlike beauty remained intact. Without it he would crumble to rusty splinters of stardust, he's sure and then a sharp jab of anger sweeps over him as he stares intently into his own reflection.

Like the haunting of what had over the years become but ghost-like movements Hyunjin lets his own features sear themselves into his skin, angling his jaw this way and that way, eyes perfectly cut, lips perfectly plush, the mole beneath his eye like a bead of a finished brushstroke, a touch of finality upon an otherwise spotless, gleaming canvass.

There are times where he wonders, lets the idea mull inside his mind, that if he were born ugly, if people saw him through the same tinted vision as his mother did, perhaps things would be different. Not even ugly, he thinks, just plain. Unnoticeable.

And then the longer he entertains the idea, that alternate universe that exists horridly within his thoughts, that maybe, just maybe everything would be different - sleep would befall him before 3AM, he would be excited at fifteen, sixteen, maybe even eighteen at the grueling prospect of kissing someone for the first time, letting his flesh become molded by someone that liked him even, he would not have to wash and wash and wash away at himself until his skin turned red and bleeding every day - and then he gets angry, so so incredibly angry that he wants to smash his face against something, draw out a knife or a pair of scissors and just create gash after gash until he's unrecognizable.

But, no. Hyunjin rips himself away from the mirror shakily, gravitating with weakened steps toward the kitchen. How could he think such monstrosities, how could he even ponder the idea of not nurturing and cradling the one thing that had made him special, that had poured into him beauty and allure and a place in which to grow upon.

Without it he would be nothing, an empty, hollow shell free from the blemishes of sleepless nights and addicting praises. Who would keep a dove so sweetly in its cage if its wings turned darkened and mangled? Who would return to hypnotizing, illuminated stages if the tiger lily's petals had wilted and drooped its way to such an unsightly death?

Restless and jittery once more, Hyunjin cleans his apartment in a headache-infused silence, unprecise, clumsy as he falters several times in getting it right. Only when he's finished and aching does he slump against his couch, limbs exhausted from the strain.

He needs to shower again now, yes he knows he does, three times, three times before his shift and yet the idea of returning to his bathroom seems so horrid and draining and he just wants to not be so tired, why is everything so fucking tiring all the time and he can't, he can't go back in there but he has to, he has to, or things won't be right!

Hyunjin muffles a strangled scream against his hands as he buries his face into his palms, the first dews of tightly guarded teardrops beginning to brim. Fuck no. Hyunjin wipes furiously at his face before standing up, marching toward his door as he grabs his phone and wallet, the sound of it slamming shut reverberating throughout the entire hallway as he makes his way out his apartment complex.

He's not really sure where's he going, walking aimlessly in different directions before finally making up his mind and steering toward the club, deciding instead to just spend the day practicing routines, maybe even start coming up with new ones.

There's a settling sort of peacefulness throughout the club when it's empty, save for the cleaners really and maybe some other dancers, but mostly everyone keeps to themselves before the night starts to rumble.

Then, before he has the chance to arrive, his phone buzzes from the pocket of his jeans, ice flooding his stomach as he fishes it forward to see who's sent him a message, the simple words Can we talk? from Felix making him halt abruptly on the sidewalk.

He knows he should apologize, his insides burning as he lets the events of last night unfold through his mind once again. Hesitantly he responds with a Your place? as he realizes he isn't quite far from Felix's apartment.

Felix responds back with his address, not entirely needed really as Hyunjin has been over a handful of times but still, he stares at it intently as he walks with skittish, agitated steps.

Felix answers his front door as if he'd been waiting for the sound the moment he enters the building and knocks, kind yet slightly high-strung smile greeting him energetically as he lets him in.

Immediately Hyunjin is overcome by a warm, sweetened smell wafting from the kitchen in mouth-watering waves, the distinct scent of something chocolatey and gooey slithering all the way down to his stomach. Because of fucking course Felix bakes.

"Hey," Felix chirps, nerves scattered around the edges. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too," Hyunjin says, eyes scurrying around the apartment as they make their way further in. He's been there before and yet with each, always slightly forced visit, Felix seems to have made his home even cozier than the last, colors in a springtime pastel adorning each inch with several vases of flowers, candles and charming, kitschy artefacts.

Almost hypnotized, Hyunjin hardly notices their arrival to the kitchen, Felix sitting down at his circular wooden dining table with his hands clasped anxiously in his lap. Hyunjin follows suit, sitting down opposite him and opening his mouth, the words numb and yet strangely coarse upon his tongue. "I want to apologize-"

"I'm sorry," Felix blurts out, eyes wide and rattled as Hyunjin pointedly shuts his mouth in shock. "I'm really sorry about yesterday," he stresses, face contorted with such pouty desperation Hyunjin almost thinks he might be conversing with some overt cutely-drawn cartoon animal.

"What?" Hyunjin blinks, breaths coming out in short exhales of laughter. "What are you sorry for, I'm the one here to apologize."

"For what I said, yesterday," Felix stresses, fingers anxiously wringing themselves together. "I worded myself really poorly and it was insensitive. I'm sorry."

"Oh." The words register slowly within his brain as he stares back, the sincerity in which Felix looks at him entirely too unnerving. "It's fine, really," he says, trying not to let such cursed words overplay through his mind once more, his fingertips tapping restlessly against the table.

"I overreacted. I wasn't...mad at you, I just...I'm sorry," he breathes out, expression only one of what he can hope to be apologetic, forehead slightly creased and lips pursed. He isn't used to this. "I was being irrational."

Felix smiles at him then, a gentle, sympathetic smile that does anything but soothe the tight knots coiling in his stomach. "If they're your feelings they're not irrational."

Hyunjin gives an airy, entirely too strained little laugh, Felix still looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes. Hyunjin thinks there's a certain depth to them he'll never be able to reach into. "Yeah well, I shouldn't have gotten angry at you." He breathes in sharply, gaze cast slightly to the side. "And I'm sorry for putting you in that...position in the private room."

"Thanks." Felix's grin settles into something more forgiving, more reserved. His eyebrows furrow slightly, the corners of his lips drooping into a small pout. "I was really scared, I'm just...glad nothing happened I guess."

For a brief second, a kernel of vexation sprouts within him. Of course such untainted and cleanly cultivated flowers would fear the mere footsteps of an animal nearby, never having experienced the sting of an all too vicious petal-plucking.

"Yeah," Hyunjin smiles, his muscles strained and taut as he stares back. "Never doing molly again, I promise."

Something lights up in Felix's eyes then, his whole body rocking forward as he starts, "You know you could-"

"And I'm still not coming to your NA meetings," Hyunjin laughs, though the idea leaves an ashen, almost unbearable taste in his mouth.

"Worth a shot." Felix's excited expression settles into a friendly grin before something seemingly very important takes over, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he looks up at him in hopeful anticipation. "Oh! I made brownies, do you want one?"

Entirely taken aback, Hyunjin only nods as Felix starts retreating toward the kitchen counter, finding forth a small plate and napkins as he begins filling them with brownies. When he comes back there's an all too satisfied expression plastered across his face as he sets the plate down and waits eagerly for him to try one.

Hesitant, Hyunjin reaches forward for the small, chocolatey dessert, flustered by the gleaming shine across Felix's face as he too starts to reach for one.

"Oh my god." The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, muffled by the taste of an enrichened sweetness swirling on his tongue. "These are amazing."

Felix positively beams, eyes sparkling as if having uncovered something he'd long since been searching for. "Thanks! I bake when I'm stressed."

Hyunjin snorts, picking off a piece and chewing on it concentratedly. "That's crazy, I do coke and have sex when I'm stressed."

Felix laughs, face settling into a light-hearted grin, his radiance infectious. Hyunjin bites back a smile. "I could teach you some recipes one day if you'd like. My sponsor taught me to try and use some...healthier coping mechanisms instead of, you know, drugs."

Hyunjin smirks, still ripping off small pieces and nibbling on them contentedly. "So is this a bad time to say that these would make absolutely amazing edibles?"

Felix's expression morphs into one of a teasing sternness, finger pointing determinately in his direction. "Brownies are my go-to now and I've perfected my recipe entirely drug-free so don't even try it."

Hyunjin snickers quietly, the knots in his stomach untying themselves just slightly. Still, he doesn't want to waste time, the dreadful incompletion of his rituals lingering shadowed and heavy in his mind.

Hyunjin thanks him for the brownie, telling him how he needs to get going to the club to work on some new routines. Almost uncharacteristically timidly for someone as exuberant as Felix, he asks with a shy, hopeful smile if he can come too to which really, Hyunjin doesn't have the heart to say no.

Excited, Felix starts parceling up all the brownies he's made, insisting on bringing them to the club because he always ends up making too many anyway. Hyunjin's eyes scatter around his apartment as Felix gets his things ready to go, an old grandfather clock and vintage ceramic vase swirled with small polychromatic flowers nesting comfortably behind the kitchen table, multiple paintings and old French floral posters adorning the wall.

Everything's clean, everything's bound with charismatic strips of personality. Hyunjin ignores the slight puncturing in his gut as Felix announces that he's ready, the two of them walking closely beneath a mellower sun toward the club.

It isn't far and yet Felix chatters on for a lifetime as they tread upon the gritty, well-worn sidewalks, gym bag slung across his shoulder. Hyunjin nods along, drifting in an out of attentiveness before they at last reach the familiar backdoor, unlocking it hastily as a sense of urgency overcomes him. He needs to busy himself with something immediately, mind prickling in agonizing impulses far too known by now.

The club is expectantly empty, only a few of the non-regular dancers testing out the smaller stages. Hyunjin makes his way up to his dressing room to change, slipping into his elastic, wide-legged yoga pants and black tank top, tying up his hair into a loose, slightly messy ponytail before making his way down to the main stage, Felix already sitting spread out on the floor and stretching concentratedly.

Hyunjin joins him, sitting down bending his knees as he drops into the butterfly stretch, extending his torso forward as his fingers skim along the stage floor. There's a special stage this weekend, one he does only every couple of months, a water-infused performance before inviting a lucky member of the audience onstage for a free lap-dance.

It had been one of his regular routines until the clients always ended up being too 'handsy' according to Jinyoung, creating a culture he definitely did not want for his club seeing as Hyunjin couldn't just stop them and tell them off mid-performance. Hyunjin understood he supposed, despite it being one of his favorite acts. The thrill and power of watching someone beneath him struggle to contain themselves would always pinch his head high in satisfaction, body invincible, transformation celestial.

There was a clear rule now, one Jinyoung made sure was well-conveyed before the stage - no touching of the tiger lily.

Hyunjin bends his knee beneath his torso as he falls into a middle split, scanning the area for a chair he can use to practice. Really he doesn't need to practice, used to doing lap-dances in private rooms all the time, yet mediocrity did not befall him, would not befall him - he was number one for a reason.

Treading to the back of the stage behind the curtain, Hyunjin spots a chair that will work, dragging it back out onto the stage as he starts strapping on his heels and hitting play on the pre-planned music from his phone.

It's always strange in the beginning, imagining someone sitting there as he starts to circle the chair sensually, muscles falling into familiar movements like the slinking of a cat, hands dragging themselves passionately across his torso, head rolling back with feigned pleasure as he gracefully drops to the floor, crawling seductively back to his victim once again.

Hyunjin loses himself in the feeling easily, legs flexing and bending in every direction as the bleakness of day fades all around him, fluorescent, pounding stage lights pouring into the cavern of sin he's come to welcome like yet another strip of his bones, reality but a mere speck of foam in the vast of ocean of such carnal illusions.

Hyunjin treasures his ability to daydream unlike any other, mind and body far, far away from the earth-ridden ground as a light and balmy pleasure begins to stir, creeping and creeping and submerging him fully - that is, until he becomes painfully interrupted.

"Changbin!"

Hyunjin whips his head to the side so fast he thinks his neck might fall off, Felix grinning delightedly as he gestures toward a rather puzzled-looking Changbin to come greet them on the stage.

Still sitting with his legs spread outward, torso facing the back of his chair, Hyunjin watches with a slow buildup of dread as Changbin hesitantly makes his way over, eyeing him briefly for a second before fixing his gaze back on Felix.

"What are you doing here?" Felix asks, still smiling, still stretching peacefully on the floor. Hyunjin pointedly gets up from the chair and starts taking off his shoes, busying himself with the latch in steadfast concentration.

"Accidentally left my jacket here yesterday," Changbin explains, lifting up the bundle of clothing in his arm as if to show for proof. "I was just on my way out."

Thank God, Hyunjin thinks, legs sinking into the split, eyes still scurrying around everywhere but his bodyguard, the memories of the night before flashing across his mind in hot, dizzying waves.

"Wait!" Felix grins, standing up excitedly as he starts rummaging through his gym bag. "I made brownies!" For fuck's sake!

Changbin accepts one gratefully, the simple delicious taste of homeliness seemingly enough for the tension to exude off of his shoulders, face falling into a gentle smile as he starts to compliment Felix, the two of them chattering incessantly, eyes scrunched up and beaming.

Something sour starts threading itself into his stomach, Felix's perfectly molded, innocently polished and sun-woven face contorting itself in rays of beauty stainless from being cradled by shadows. Hyunjin longs to rip his gaze away, and yet they keep falling back onto the two of them, laughing, bright, energetic smiles that make him want to start ripping off dry flakes from his own skin from where he sits, twilight-born and rotting.

"How did Jia's recital go?" Felix asks eagerly, Changbin's eyes lighting up instantly as he begins to divulge into the question. Hyunjin can but stare in shock, mouth seconds away from dropping open and hitting the floor, something cold and bound with echoes slithering all over his body.

"She did great and she wasn't even nervous at all- I mean, I was more nervous than her." Changbin laughs, almost buzzing from where he stands as if he's been waiting to speak about his daughter for days.

Hyunjin thinks his head might come tumbling off the minute Felix starts talking about how children often get their nerves from adults and how a child's confidence is one of the most precious things and blah blah blah and Changbin nods along enthusiastically and really could there be any place less appropriate to talk about such things?

Hyunjin stands up swiftly, an irritating sense of something scratching him from the insides making him grab the chair back toward him, the legs creaking harshly against the floor as he drags it back into place. Both Changbin and Felix turn to look at him, interrupted no doubt by the sudden noise.

Hyunjin ignores them pointedly, placing his leg on the back as he uses it to stretch, eyes only flitting back for a second once Felix starts gushing on about how he should bring Jia a brownie, Changbin's gaze catching his own for one brief, almost barely noticeable moment before he quickly diverts it back to Felix.

Stomach burning, Hyunjin drags his sweats down slightly, just enough so that his lower back tattoo becomes visible and positions himself in front of the chair, dropping to his hands and knees as he starts practicing his routine once again, crawling and slithering his way toward his phantom victim.

Possessed by something scorching and with flames for tongues, a sun-deity of canyon-watered sweat and vigor, Hyunjin turns his head to look back, gut swooping headfirst into a crashing nosedive as Changbin's eyes do indeed, meet his. They falter from his own gaze as quickly as they'd appeared, trained intently back upon whatever mind-dulling conversation he was having, but Hyunjin bites back a smirk, swathed in satisfaction.

Changbin leaves soon after, claiming that he's already stretched his lunch break for far too long but thanking Felix for the brownie, well brownies now as it seems Felix has parceled up a whole bunch for him to take home, an enthusiastic "I'll see you tomorrow?" emitting past his lips as Hyunjin's entire stomach douses itself in fire.

Changbin nods and smiles back, confirming that yes, they most definitely would before bidding goodbye, shooting Hyunjin one last look as he starts making his way toward the exit.

Hyunjin stares back with what he can only describe as a dreadful sense of horror tiptoeing its way into his chest, eyes landing upon Felix the minute he's gone, tongue dry and brittle from sandpaper as he speaks. "What're you doing tomorrow?"

"I decided to get another tattoo!" Felix beams, apparently very pleased with such a development. Hyunjin returns the smile, face numb and rigid as he does so, anger brewing rapidly in his gut as he tries to shake it off. He's just rattled because of the morning he had, things just hadn't been right.

"Seems like you two have gotten close?" He asks, before he can stop himself, cursing his tongue for bleeding such repulsive tastes he becomes forced to swallow once they've decayed for long enough.

"Yeah, kind of," Felix quips, tone light-hearted and carefree as he starts stretching again. Hyunjin stares distractedly as Felix continues for far too long, eyes unfocused as they burrow into nothingness, his mind clouding in a strange, distant haze.

Hyunjin goes back home shortly after, the return to his bathroom-mirror just as incensed and scalding as it had been that very morning, yet he pays it less attention this time. He has things to do, flesh to burn and so he showers, showers, showers until the pumping blood choking him from the inside comes trickling out in small, raw strips of relief.

 

-

 

There's a certain, almost wicked way in which to trap a lingering fruit fly, a little prison to confine it in, poor and pitiful and therefore all the more unrighteous. Hyunjin has seen his mother make it many times, angry-lines streaked across her face, ready, eager for such a plain yet ingenious slaughter.

You see the fruit fly is simple, an honest creature who flutters toward homebound-caverns to nestle itself greedily in between sickly billows of addiction. It's common knowledge, really that fruit flies are attracted to anything sweet - syrup, honey, droplets of sticky, nectarine juice.

His mother doesn't mind such insects, not really, as long as they stay out of her sight she lets them feast as they may, small and inconspicuous from the simple act of shutting her eyes. It's when they get particularly close to her, whirring and buzzing like an itch you can't stop scratching, that her anger becomes abundant and she teaches him, through years and years of observing in shadowed corners, how to make a fly trap.

An old mason jar, apple cider vinegar, sugar water and dewy, gut-churning rotten fruit. Easy and monstrous.

Sometimes she swaps the vinegar for honey, sometimes the rotten fruit for festering pieces of meat. Then, like clockwork, the flies scuttle toward their sacred meal, little legs stuck from the stickiness, unable to get out and yet pleasured all the same.

His mother repeats her trap religiously, emptying them off and continuing the cycle, nose always scrunched up high in apparent disgust.

Nowadays, the trap remains frustratingly empty. His mother suspects there's something wrong with the ingredients. Hyunjin knows that there is, a foul, almost putrid smell having creeped their way in to fog up the withering glass - remnants of his mother's own revulsion, no doubt. Luckily for her, Hyunjin too, knows how to make a fly trap.

Hyunjin thinks he knows how to better than anyone, certainly better than his mother, who's become too tainted by hatred and inconsistencies to consider all the subtle blows of honeyed fragrances of what a fruit fly really likes.

There comes a newfound, entirely blasphemous amusement in seeing her discontent at all the insects that come whirring around in sick, desperate hungers for the perfumed humidity of his own sweetened skin.

Hyunjin laps up the attention selfishly, small tiptoes against his arm, his thighs, brief and pleasant even on his chin, the fruit flies' footsteps tickling him delicately. Of course his mother feigns the all-too-familiar shutting of the eyes, gruesome reminders of the lack of flies in her jar too ghastly he muses, for her to properly digest.

Still, she fails, Hyunjin can tell, her mouth twitching in loathing, her fingers snapping against each other in horror. It shouldn't be as gratifying as it is, shouldn't be as pleasing, as humorous and yet Hyunjin can't help but laugh at her sickened, green-hued face as he swirls on the popsicle in his mouth beneath the unfurling beads of a summertime sweat, the fruit fly on the wall hypnotized, ready, eager even to fall into his trap.

 

-

 

The weekend arrives with the same scorching lightheadedness of snow as always, body and mind invigorated to captivate yet once more the blazing eyes of his watchers, searching and searching for something to spellbind them with. And Hyunjin knows all too well how to bewitch, even more so tonight with the cool, droplets of water dripping down his skin as he moves to the sensual beat of a low, enchanting song.

His outfit was simple enough to dance through the rippling waves of his water-pooled stage, a oversized, white shirt clinging to his torso as it steadily becomes see-through from the wetness and tight, black leather pants, his legs twisting and bending in carefully planned choreography. It's different than his usual, pole-bound performance, muscles moving and coursing with more of an energetic vigor than a sensual one, the thin sheet of water beneath him hitting him across the face as he lowers his arm to run through it.

Hyunjin welcomes the wetness with satisfaction, eyes fluttering open and shut as he loses himself to the movements of his limbs, each little extension and curve like lifelines he pours himself into, wings unseen twitching to release themselves from the winding muscles of his back.

His metamorphosis is not complete yet, no, not until the surprise that lingers waiting in shadows for his next performance, his lips etching into a smirk once the lights dim completely and the music withers away, swathing him in darkness as cheers erupt around him.

Now dripping wet, Hyunjin hurries to the back of the stage, parting the curtains immediately as he begins to strip. He doesn't have much time until his follow up show, part two really, of wet, sticky desires to rip into with your own teeth, the low, rumbling sound of the announcer making clear what's about to happen ringing through his head.

His next outfit lies behind the stage ready and glittering for him to put on, fingers peeling off his leather pants as they start tugging up the ruby-spotted redness of soft, velvet shorts.

Hyunjin thinks he can hear scuttling around on the stage, his lucky victim probably selected from the crowd already, eager and waiting no doubt for the excited memories of a hot-blooded night to unfurl themselves for the rest of his years to come.

Pulling on the crimson-stained corset, Hyunjin holds it tightly against his chest, edge stopping just above his navel-piercing, fingers fumbling ungracefully from trying to zip it up in the back. Growing increasingly frustrated by his inability to reach further up, Hyunjin bites his lips, gut pooling in worry all of the sudden. Any minute now he should be back on stage.

A sudden noise pulls him out of his frustration, body twisting around as Changbin clears his throat awkwardly, eye contact tense and yet faltering all at the same time. Outstretched in his hand lies a towel, the offer plain and clear despite the lack of noise emitting between them. Something twists sharply in his gut, dark and brewing and ignited by small, dangerous kernels of explosives.

Hyunjin grabs the towel gently, dabbing himself across the neck and chest before tossing it aside, eyes refusing to slip away from the ones boring straight into him, unreadable and murky as always.

Then, because his mind never fully resolves itself when buzzing with such floaty, stirring fever as it does when on stage, Hyunjin turns around, tilting his neck slightly to the side as his voice rings through uncharacteristically soft. "Zip me up?"

For a second there's nothing, only the muted sounds of noise from on the other side of the stage until slow, gentle footsteps make their way toward him, his body restraining from shuddering as he feels a low breath ghost across the back of his neck, skin tingling as his corset sits tightly against his body. "There."

Hyunjin turns around calmly, Changbin's eyes flickering away from his own and down to his lips for a quick, escapable second. Hyunjin clutches onto it tightly, refusing to let it break free from the harsh fist of his grasp.

Hearing the cue of his entrance begin to trickle through the speaker phones, Hyunjin takes slow, determined steps backwards, gaze still unyielding from Changbin's face. "You know I doubt you need to be looking at the crowd for my stalker anymore."

Changbin stills, the depth of his eyes stirring with something shadowed. "Where should I be looking then?"

Hyunjin starts walking toward the stage, turning his head back to let his gaze rest on Changbin for a brief, time-stopping moment, the bright lights and hollering whistles like sharp and jarring edges of the gemstone curling on the tip of his tongue the moment he's back and facing the crowd.

Hyunjin slinks toward the center of the stage, the dark yet glinting stage lights dropping suddenly to a deep, blood red as he starts circling the chair in the middle of a protruding platform that revolves, the man lucky enough to have been graced by such destiny sitting idly and buzzing as he stares at him intently, eyes following his every little movement like tugging at strings of a sinful lifeline.

Hyunjin can tell the man is feigning nonchalance, pretending, hoping his desperation and yearning does not come across to the watchers. Hyunjin smirks, stepping behind him and sensually dragging his hands across the man's chest, lower and lower, fingers trailing along his abdomen as he hears him exhale shakily beneath his breath. Puppets made of such worn-out string are too easy to unravel.

Hyunjin continues the torturous teasing of his fingers for a while longer, leaning his own face in to graze his lips faintly against the man's neck, ghostlike echoes of desire just millimeters away from plunging into his skin.

Hyunjin draws himself back slowly, neck bending upward again to look into the crowd, eyes landing like moths to a flame upon the ones he'd been searching for, indecipherable, dark, flashes of a scorpion swirling hotly in his ink-tattered vision.

Circling his way in front of the man now, Hyunjin glides his left foot up his leg until the heel rests enticingly on his knee, his own fingers dragging themselves up his skin until they start skimming against the hem of his ruby-hued shorts, the man's gaze enraptured, hypnotized as it follows his fingers, greedy and hungry for his own sweltering pleasure.

Then, as the beat of the music changes in one swift slope, Hyunjin drops his legs down each side of the man, sitting down on his lap as he loops his arms around his neck, his own eyes hooded and glinting. Hyunjin can tell the man is restraining himself greatly from touching him by how he twitches and pulsates restlessly once he starts grinding against him, yet his eyes can't help but scan into the crowd, engulfed once more by the shadowed and inflamed eyes of someone else, someone sturdier, someone less pliant, someone better.

Hyunjin bites his lip seductively, dark, eyeliner-tinted gaze half-lidded and shrouded in hot, burning coals as he stares unwaveringly at Changbin, a candle-lit flame in the middle of starless cavern walls.

He can feel it then, the slow, unfurling ripples of satisfaction coiling themselves to the thrum of his heart, Changbin's eyes upon his like the slowly-spun stream of sunlight in the morning, warm, tingling, slithering all the way through in blissful exhales of pleasures - spilling across his head like crowns of a halo, tickling the hairs upon his neck, down, down, down into his stomach, hot and heavy as it punctures his gut and trickles down his legs, small beads of sweat that shine pearly and enticingly through the dark.

Hyunjin wants to bend down and taste them, relish in the sweet taste of paradise as he licks and licks, lets the saltiness burn his tongue to cinders.

The stage revolves slowly as he stands back up again, hands dragging themselves across his chest as he circles it once more, this time the man's face and chest facing the crowd instead.

Stepping in front of him, Hyunjin lowers himself onto his lap for the second time, back against his chest as his eyes continue to bore into ones they aren't supposed to - but really, how can he deny such divinely-woven flutters of pleasure, of everything that makes his performance stand out, transforms the innocent butterfly into a creature not of springtime but of the tantalizing wings of witching hour? How can he care about the watchers, when only one of them, truly, makes his wings spread?

Changbin's eyes remained intently trained upon his, his pupils darkening, overcast by what Hyunjin can only imagine to be hazy fogs of hunger, the same burning embers reflected in his own.

Smirking, Hyunjin gyrates his hips lazily against the man's lap, back and forth as he trails his fingers alluringly down his own chest, slowly, sensually, down to skim themselves across velvety fabric, eyes closing shut in feigned pleasure as he spreads his own legs apart except this time it isn't feigned, isn't ignited by pearly strips of white lines either, his vision spinning with thoughts, perfumed, nauseating smells, the ghost of someone's else touch upon his skin, sturdier, less gentle, once bathed in spine-chilling blood.

Somehow he knows, knows like one of the deep-rooted, eternal facts of the earth - like how the moon shies away from the plainness of day, the assurance of drought in the bumbling fields of the desert, rainfall in scarcity, houses with cracks, Hyunjin knows they would feel good, would disentangle his limbs like the molding of clay, coarse, faithful, cosmic against his flesh, his sinful, honey-coated, entrapping of the flies flesh.

Hyunjin lowers his back as he slides his hands across the man's neck, holding himself up, heels firmly planted on the floor as he rolls his body up and down, eyes still shut, still bathed in soapy pearls of a daydream, his own blood pounding deliciously through his veins.

The stage starts rotating once more, the back of the chair now facing the crowd and Hyunjin slowly drags his body up right, twisting his torso and legs to face the man before slinking once more into his lap, this time with his legs bent under him as they plant themselves upon his thighs, his own knees sliding out between the sides of the chair as he loops his arms around his neck, rolling his hips in teasing rhythms.

Hyunjin can hardly find it in himself to care that he isn't watching his little chair-bound victim, - he's obviously satisfied enough judging by the not so subtle bump in his pants - he's found himself a new victim, eyes landing upon Changbin's immediately once again.

The fog in his gaze has only doubled by now, thickened by the relentless way in which he refuses to tear himself away, Hyunjin can see it, can spot the hazy mist of something dark and unleashed despite the lack of lights from where he stands, arms crossed against each other, jaw twitching every other second.

Hyunjin smirks, biting his lip teasingly as he starts bouncing slightly up and down, the illusion sinful, perhaps too overdone by the way he starts twisting his face in exaggerated pleasure, one open-mouthed audible moan away from crossing the line and turning pornographic, but he can feel all sense slither away from his body the second Changbin's eyes blacken completely, soiled and sacrilegious, the righteous archangel finally falling to the pits of damnation Hyunjin sows so well.

Hyunjin can only imagine the strain in which he has to endure just simply standing there, hands itching, aching in the lack of ability to reach out and touch, to do anything to mar such a graceless canvas begging to be stained.

He slinks both of his legs down the side of the man's thighs, unbending his knees as his heels hit the floor, hands dragging seductively down his own chest, eye-contact with his little watcher unrelenting, electrifying, barreling through the mist in his head with a determined, throat-cutting sense of purpose.

Hyunjin lowers his face into the man's neck, definitely doing something he isn't supposed to by licking it greedily, but the audience can't really tell whether it's an illusion or not by the man's hair and collared shirt obscuring the view. Still, as his eyes flicker back up to Changbin's, he hopes he knows that it is, indeed, real, real and salty and so, so wet.

The embers in Changbin's pupils flicker to life as they douse his eyes with all-encompassing flames, blazing and burning and destroying any last sense of rationality, of control, slim as they may be.

Hyunjin thinks he can feel the heat of them from all the way up on the stage, his own body simmering and pulsating dangerously, so dangerously he isn't sure what he might do, fingers aching to reach down and just scratch the man's shirt to pieces as he sinks his nails into them, eyes closed and brimming with visions ready to send him straight to the underworld.

Slowly, still not tearing his gaze away, Hyunjin stands back up again as the stage revolves around once more, front of the chair facing the crowd. Hyunjin takes his sweet time inching sensually into the splits, his back to the chair as he feels the burn in his thigh stretch deliciously.

Like a prowling animal on the hunt, Hyunjin stares hungrily through hooded-eyes at the vibrating gaze of his victims, his torso extending across the floor once his legs are fully split, hands intertwining with each other as he stretches satisfying, catlike and roused.

It's with the all too pleasurable spreading of his limbs that he ends his routine, the stage lights dimming as cheers erupt all around him, Changbin's face disappearing with the swift influx of darkness. As if struck by an illusion slipping from his grasp, Hyunjin stretches his way back up to stand, shooting a flirtatious grin to the man still sitting in the chair, his eyes fixated far lower than his own.

Hyunjin walks to the front of the stage to collect his tips, more than usual before he slinks to the back of the stage, lights vanishing completely as someone else behind the curtains prepares themself for a show.

As soon as he parts the velvety fabric, Hyunjin ignores a waiting Minho tired and restless by the railing, making his way quickly back to his dressing room as he grabs his discarded clothes from the earlier performance, heart pounding erratically as he desperately tries to clutch onto the shimmery raptures of his daydream.

Hyunjin undoes his corset with harsh rips of his fingers, chest sweaty and burning as he lets the coolness of air wash over it, eyes falling shut as he leans against the wall. He feels hot, too hot, too scorching in the lack of something gentle to chill across his spine.

He slips on his white, soaked shirt from before, the slightly dry material no longer see through as he begins to button it up, one sleeve falling off his shoulder immediately from how loosely it fits him.

Hyunjin stares at himself in the mirror for a second, catching his gaze before he can tear it away, black strands messy and falling in alluring strands across his face, lips swollen and red from how hard he'd bitten them, eyes smudged in black, hooded still and clouded with haze, the same haze he'd been staring into for what had seemed like a lapse of time neither quite real nor quite fake.

Something laced with poison starts to fill out his hollow lungs as he stands there, a slow infusion of regret and desire threatening to choke him. Hyunjin isn't quite sure whether he wants it to or not.

A sudden knock on his door interrupts him from his thought, his gaze tearing itself away from the mirror as he walks over to turn the handle, Changbin's face hardened and ablaze as he stares into him. Hyunjin's stomach coils itself instantly. "What the fuck was that?"

"What?" He tilts his head, gut swooping in an untying elation. Changbin's eyes flicker to his exposed collarbones for a brief second. Hyunjin pretends not to notice it, biting back a smirk. "Didn't you like the show?"

For a moment Changbin almost looks on the verge of collapsing within on himself altogether, before his eyes ignite once more, something harsh and itchy scratching at the back of his throat. "What are you doing to me?"

"I don't know," Hyunjin says, taking small steps backward into the dressing room as Changbin follows him automatically, the door slamming behind him with a sharp, pounding noise. "What am I doing to you?"

Changbin's eyes follow his lips as he speaks, intently, religiously, before flashing back up to stare at him, the electricity from which they burn almost paralyzing him entirely. "Driving me crazy."

"Really?" Hyunjin can't be sure, not from the mist clogging his brain so thickly, if the distance between them has suddenly diminished all too much. "You don't seem that crazy to me." Perhaps it's just wishful thinking.

Changbin stares at him as if on the brink of exploding, strong muscles and unwavering bones tethered to control for far too long for Hyunjin's liking. He wants to break it in half. "Do something crazy then-"

Changbin pushes him against the wall, Hyunjin's back digging uncomfortably into the wood as strong, callous hands grip his face, tilting his jaw upward until he can feel his lips on his own, his stomach twisting like small bundles of stars ready to explode.

Hyunjin doesn't care about the roughness, mirrors the hazy desire by opening his mouth even further, snaking his hands up Changbin's nape to bring him closer, closer, closer, his tongue pushing into his mouth as he swallows a wanton moan eagerly.

Changbin grips onto the side of his hip, his skin probably forming indents of his fingers from how strong his clutch is. Hyunjin closes his eyes as he pulls his mouth away to breathe, head leaning against the wall as Changbin enthusiastically kisses his neck, his back arching yearningly as he lets out a shaky breath.

A million things better left unsaid come bursting at the seams inside of him, the satisfaction, the relief of hands and touches he had not known he needed filling every aching crevice and marrow of his body, his lips opening and closing in salacious desperation.

Changbin's tongue continues to graze against his neck, nipping and biting in something Hyunjin welcomes all too willingly, his toes curling along his fingers as they wrap themselves around sturdy, unyielding muscles.

Hyunjin entangles his fingers from his hair to bring his face back to his, tongue pushing itself into his mouth once more as he swallows his own shaky exhales of desire. Changbin presses his body firmly against his own, ripples of pleasure slithering through him from the building friction, muscles needy, selfish for more, things he dares not think of flashing through his mind.

Changbin is, as he finds out, all too willing to heed to his blasphemous wishes, strong arms bending down momentarily to grab his legs and hoisting them up as if weightless, holding him steadily beneath his thighs as Hyunjin wraps them around his waist, lips still numb and wondrous from being devoured.

For a second, Changbin rips himself away as he stares at him intently, eyes swirling with a mixture of emotions too profound and with dents for his fogged-up mind to comprehend. "Are you..." he asks, voice strangely timid as if suddenly struck by something with vicious claws, "high?"

"No," Hyunjin breathes out, chest heaving up and down, not really sure why any of that matters, fingers scratching impatiently at the fabric of his shirt, greedy once more to feel lips against his own. "Not anymore."

"Good," is all Changbin replies before he wholeheartedly swoops back down again, tongue pushing itself into his mouth as Hyunjin laps it up hungrily, his fingers grazing beneath the hem of Changbin's shirt, nails scratching against his lower abdomen, fluttering and teasing along the waistline of his boxers.

As if on instinct, Changbin pushes himself even closer against him, space between them nonexistent as Hyunjin's fingers start to trail beneath his waistline, touches light and drifting, ghostlike echoes enough to make Changbin jerk momentarily before he gently lifts him down again, a desperate whine swelling in the back of his throat from the loss of friction.

Changbin makes it up to him quickly enough, spinning him around by his waist so that his face becomes pressed against the wall, strong, wandering hands snaking their way beneath his shirt and up his chest as Hyunjin feels his body press into his from behind. His neck drops back in sudden bliss as Changbin starts kissing his neck, fingers sinful and teasing as they graze across his nipples, Hyunjin's body shuddering from the touch.

His mind overclouds itself to the point of sightlessness, back arching in response to the increasing speed from which Changbin brushes against him, mouth and hands giving, giving, giving until Hyunjin isn't so sure he can take anymore, eyes hazy and lips spilling open in mindless exhales of ecstasy.

"Take me, ah-" he breathes out, tongue forming words of the fallen before he can stop them, "to your place."

Changbin turns him around quickly, hands in his hair as he kisses him passionately once more, Hyunjin's fingers clawing at the fabric of shirt around his waist.

"I'll get an Uber right now," he breathes out as soon as their lips disconnect, eyes so unfocused and frenzied as he starts fumbling desperately with his phone that Hyunjin would've laughed if not tethered by the same tantalizing torture of time.

He fumbles with his velvet shorts quickly, dragging them down his legs as he lets his fingers graze along their plushness, Changbin's eyes widening in surprise as they look up from his phone, trailing down his bare legs as if hypnotized.

"What?" Hyunjin laughs, bending down to grab his discarded black pants, leather slightly wet still from his performance. "Gotta be somewhat decent for the driver, right?"

"Do you always wear underwear like that?" Changbin's gaze flickers between his eyes and waist, voice slightly strangled as if suddenly sucker punched by an invisible force.

Peering down as he starts pulling his pants back up, Hyunjin halts momentarily, smirk etching itself across his face. It's nothing special really, baby blue embroideries adorning the hem of his snug, lace panties, the color eye-catching against the subtle tan of his skin. "Yes," he grins, tugging his pants all the way up with satisfaction as he starts walking toward the door. "Now let's go."

Changbin follows him instantly, the two of them pacing briskly toward the backdoor, thick, swirling tension brewing between them once again as a sweltering gust of air greets them outside. Luckily the Uber driver is already waiting, Hyunjin climbing into the backseat with his stomach coiling in anticipating knots.

He tries not to let his mind wander too far as the two of them sit in a scorching, stretching silence once the car starts driving, beaming lights from the window only distracting him slightly. His eyes keep falling back to Changbin, his fingers drumming impatiently against his lap, leg bouncing in a buzzing, ringing restlessness, head fixated firmly to the side, peering out the window.

Stomach pooling in dangerous, leaden desire, Hyunjin places his hand on his thigh to stop it from moving, Changbin drawing in a barely audible, sharp intake of breath, neck snapping in surprise to look at him.

Keeping his gaze intently set straight ahead, Hyunjin bites his lips as his fingers begin to trail, slowly, sensually, up, up, up. Changbin tenses immediately, eyes flitting to the driver as if gauging whether he's paying attention to them in a panicked sense of need.

Holding back a smirk, Hyunjin slides his hand to the inside of his thigh, face still as neutral as he can keep it, fingers creeping upward until there really isn't more left to go before Changbin's hand grabs his harshly, stopping it from wandering any further. Hyunjin tilts his neck to the side then, smirking as his eyes flicker to Changbin's lap, the car coming to a slow halt as it parks in front of a large, towering apartment complex.

Changbin nearly pulls him out the car the minute the wheels stop turning, Hyunjin following behind with eager footsteps as they make their way inside the building, his back pushed passionately against the wall of the elevator once the doors close behind them, Changbin's lips on his before he has a chance to catch his breath.

Hyunjin moans into the kiss, Changbin's hands looping around his waist as he pulls him closer, pulling away for a second as he stares into him, eyes dazed and hungry. "You're gonna be the death of me if you keep pulling shit like that."

"Yeah?" Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, the elevator lights flickering upon his collarbones, neck sloping and exposed, far too bare for the darkened hues swirling in his mind. He reaches forward with his hand, grazing against the front of Changbin's pants, eyes unwavering as they stare into his. "What are you gonna do about it then?"

The path to Changbin's apartment becomes a rugged one, as it turns out, Changbin pushing his tongue into his as they stumble through the hallway, Hyunjin's back constantly hitting the wall as he all but lets himself be mauled with far too much gratification. It isn't until they reach the right door and Changbin starts distractedly fumbling with the keys all the while kissing his neck that Hyunjin panics, eyes wide and stomach flooding with icy, souring water.

"Wait," he breathes out, pushing Changbin's chest in an attempt to get him off, Changbin only staring at him confused and slow through hooded, yearning eyes. "What about your daughter?!" Hyunjin hisses, dread seeping through him in tenfold.

"She's not here," Changbin says, eyes focusing just slightly. "She sleeps over at my mom's when I work late."

"Oh," Hyunjin breathes out, stomach coiling back in intoxicating knots, the reality of what he's doing surging through him in thrilling, rattling waves as Changbin unlocks the door and leads him in, kicking off his shoes rapidly as Hyunjin follows suit.

He hardly makes out anything from the darkness and the starved conviction with which he lets himself be dragged to the bedroom, Changbin's back hitting the soft mattress as soon as they're inside, Hyunjin crawling his way into his lap, heart beating erratically against his chest.

Changbin rids himself of his shirt with eager swiftness as Hyunjin latches his hands against his chest immediately, dragging and clawing with a carnal desperation he only knows how to satisfy in one, hard-hitting shove. This time it feels like he's the one plummeting, crash-diving head first into volcanic fire, his flesh burning, burning, burning in all the right places.

Changbin's skin is littered with ink, tattoos swirling across his skin, sturdy and smooth against his fingers as he scratches animalistically. His mouth nearly waters as he stares, a thick snake curving down his well-defined muscles. There are too many to look at, Hyunjin almost feels dizzy.

What's the point in simply looking when he can taste, his tongue attaching itself to his chest immediately, licking long, sensual stripes down, down, down as Changbin's breath hitches, low groan escaping him the minute Hyunjin reaches his happy trail.

Hyunjin moans against his skin, mouth kissing and lapping up every inch of flesh he finds and Changbin's fingers dig into his scalp immediately, tugging at his hair in the perfect amount of painful pleasure. Hyunjin mouths eagerly at the prominent bulge in his jeans, spit creating a wet patch against the fabric. Changbin lets out a shaky, raspy moan. "Holy fuck."

The second Hyunjin's fingers start fiddling with his belt, Changbin sits up straight and undoes it immediately, flinging it across the room as he takes off his pants, hands clinging to Hyunjin's waist as soon as they're off. Changbin slips his fingers beneath his shirt and slides them upward, each touch like scalding coals making him feverish before he helps pull his shirt off all together.

He takes a second to stare, something Hyunjin can't decipher swirling in his eyes before he pulls him closer by the waist, their chests and fingers clawing against each other as Changbin kisses him deeply.

Before he can react Changbin lowers his body onto the sheets and starts sucking hungrily on his neck, fingers still dragging themselves up and down his body like a mantra, a religious hymn to follow in the dark. Hyunjin can't do anything but whine, his legs wrapping themselves around Changbin's waist as they knead together in sinful friction.

"You're so," Changbin breathes heavily against his neck as he continues to kiss it, "beautiful." Hyunjin can hardly hear him from the amount of blood rushing through his ears, his back arching wantonly against the sheets. "So, so beautiful."

Changbin detaches himself momentarily before moving down in a way similar to how Hyunjin had before, mouth stopping once it reaches his belly button, licking and sucking filthily on the piercing. Hyunjin can't remember the last time his body had felt this electric, so high strung on energy unbound from pretty white lines and driven purely from his own pumping blood, dirtied and rotted.

"This right here," Changbin pants, gesturing to the gemstone glittering from his navel, "should be fucking illegal."

Hyunjin feels like he's floating, far away and someone else as Changbin starts imprinting gentle kisses against his butterfly tattoo, soft and tender as his mouth wanders lower and lower, stopping once the ink dips into the waistline of his pants.

It doesn't take long until they're both fully naked, streetlights from outside the window flickering across bare strips of skin from where the curtains don't shroud, Hyunjin's chest untangling with each little movement of Changbin's face from where he lies back against the bed, Changbin staring down at him with a wildfire in his eyes.

Hyunjin can't help but soak in, engrave and etch every single twitch of his jaw or flash in his pupils, every pinch of his eyebrow, each perfectly sculpted mark of pleasure, of him, into his mind as it clings deep and shadowed to his skin.

Changbin fucks into him with the conviction of the religious, holy and sacrificially as he pours into Hyunjin all of which he is, passion unchained and aching need fully bare. And Hyunjin takes it well, of course he does, how can he not when unyielding muscles worship him so, legs twitching around his waist as he burrows deeper and deeper, calloused hand tugging at his hair as he lowers himself into his neck, breath heavy and thick, tickling his skin.

Hyunjin wonders if Changbin will be able to erase the sounds he makes once he brushes against his sweet spot - obscene and depraved and entirely out of his control - out of his memory or if they'll stick with him in the back of his head, night after night as they threaten to spill over.

Despite the animalistic haste of their synchronized bodies, Hyunjin thinks there's a certain care, a certain gentleness like crumpled silk, in the way Changbin moves, in the way he touches him with assurance, with a sense of inevitability. Of truth.

Hyunjin wants to lean into it, yearns to believe in things he knows he ought not to believe in and so he breaks the illusion in half, tearing it apart with his own teeth as he starts to push himself upward, determined and inflamed. Changbin gets the message, hoisting him up easily so that he's positioned on top of him, raw and glorious as he begins to ride.

There's nothing he does better, he thinks as he stares down at Changbin's panting face with hooded eyes, than put on a show. Hyunjin slams his chest so that his back hits the headboard, picking up his pace as Changbin's expression screws up in undraped pleasure.

Changbin stares up at him then, eyes foggy with something different than he's used to, something that stabs at the building gratification in his gut with a hot, skin-deep blade. He forces it down, crushing it to small pieces for him to pierce himself with later, thighs burning deliciously as he speeds up even more.

"You told me I'm a good dancer." His words are sensual and sharp despite his heavy breathing, fingers grabbing Changbin's jaw tightly as he stares him down. "I don't dance just to be 'good'."

Changbin looks at him dazed, enraptured. "I don't dance to entertain you, or to make art." Hyunjin can feel his heartbeat claw itself out of his very own chest, skin melting off of his bones from the pleasure curling in his toes. "I don't dance because it's fun or freeing."

He pushes his thumb against the plushness of Changbin's lips, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily as his chest heaves up and down. Hyunjin takes him in with a rush of power spreading through him, hand itching to tear him apart. "None of that's enough for me."

He leans in slowly to whisper, halting his pace as Changbin whines frustratedly, their faces only inches apart. "I'm greedy you see."

Changbin looks absolutely wrecked from beneath him, his hands clawing desperately at his waist, but Hyunjin only smirks, refusing to let up from his torturous pace. Changbin's eyes follow his lips like the road to salvation as he purrs seductively. "I dance to make you remember."

He pushes his thumb into his mouth, saliva wet and sticky against his finger. "I dance so that you'll think of me even when you're far away from stage lights." He hooks it into the side of his cheek, mouth falling open as Hyunjin stares him down, completely in control for the first time in what had seemed a life. "Even when you're far away from those shadows you run to in the night."

Hyunjin leans in closer, breath fanning across his face, each line and perfectly molded curve of skin like a thousand scattered stars too much, too cratered for him to digest. He starts picking up his pace again, Changbin's moan muffled from the finger in his mouth.

"I dance so that you'll think of me when you least expect it," Hyunjin isn't religious and yet "in your sleep," he thinks if his flesh were to bleed, "when you're awake," in this very moment at least, "with your family," it would bleed small, pearly drops of godliness. "Alone, unable to run away from my memory."

Hyunjin lets out a lewd, high pitched whine as he speeds up to where he was before, throwing his head back in pleasure as he lets himself submerge fully to the shadows of his rotted, holy body.

Up and down, up and down, he feels delirious with bliss." I dance to haunt you." He glances back down at Changbin, face so tightly screwed it seems like he's fighting not to come bursting at the seams. Hyunjin can feel him twitch inside of him. "From the moment you lay eyes on me to moment you return back to the earth."

He unhooks his thumb from his mouth then, Changbin's muffled moans turning loud and filthy as he buries his face into Hyunjin's chest, fingers tightening harshly around his waist, each and every tightly wound screw unloosening all at once.

Hyunjin can feel the warmth of the condom as Changbin spills into him, but he barely has time to revel in watching him break into fragments before he wraps his hand around his own, neglected length, stroking him sensually as he starts to suck on his chest.

Hyunjin hisses at the feeling, nipples sensitive against his tongue and really, it shouldn't feel this good, shouldn't have him whining and writhing in his grip like this, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as Changbin rampantly speeds up. Hyunjin falls apart just as easily, skin messy and sweaty as soon as he crumbles beneath his touch, the two of them panting heavily in the wake of the newfound silence.

Hyunjin watches as Changbin's chest rises and falls, his skin red and raw from how hard he'd scratched him. For a while, neither of them make any attempts to move, Hyunjin sitting pliantly in his lap as he tries to steady his own breathing. He can feel the lightest touch of fingers rubbing small, soothing circles against his back.

Hyunjin wants to feel sick, wants to shove himself away and go running to the bathroom as he suffocates from hot, boiling water. Yet he does nothing, can't bring himself to do anything but sit still in the hold of the man below him.

Changbin gives him a smile then, soft and unassuming, unrecognizable almost from the steadfast, steely expression Hyunjin has become so used to. "You okay?" He asks, still giving him delicate, featherlike touches along his waist.

"Yeah." Something uncomfortable lodges itself in his throat. "You?"

Changbin grins then, eyes gleaming. "Definitely."

Hyunjin looks to the side immediately, not wanting to search for fallacies in the emotion swirling in the pupils below him as he makes an attempt to get off of him. Changbin helps him steadily, pulling out and tossing the condom before running to the bathroom and bringing with him a soft, wet towel. Hyunjin reaches forward to take it, but Changbin helps wipe him off before he gets the chance.

Hyunjin swallows the uncomfortable pit nestling itself in his chest as he sluggishly draws his underwear back up his legs, eyes heavy all of the sudden as he stares toward the bedroom door, feet tangled between sheets, leaden and dense, unable to move. He thinks he hears Changbin ask him something then, but the words float through the air in a muggy, stifling indecipherability.

A soft yawn escapes him, his eyes fluttering shut before he can stop them, eyelids so so droopy and groaning as they welcome the darkness, sudden ripples of exhaustion wafting over him as if untouched by the deepness of sleep for years and years.

Hyunjin thinks he might be, after all, body succumbing to the slow droning of an ungraceful, gooey trickle of unconsciousness, heart light despite the heaviness in his bones.

 

-

Hyunjin laughs at something that floats in the distance, sharp and edged against his tongue as it spills open in boundless chitter, his chest aching from how badly it constricts. He doesn't know what's so funny, but he giggles anyway, smoke swirling around his head in pretty, curving loops.

The smell of marijuana always leaves him with a crinkled, disgusted nose but the wispy draping of something light and stretching more than makes up for the pungent odor anyway. Besides, Hyunjin is someone else entirely when he's high, someone captivating, someone social. Someone better.

At least to the upperclassmen he is, especially the ones in college. They're always the ones to suggest smoking anyway. Hyunjin never pays for it, more than satisfactory in many other areas.

This he knows, has known for years really from all the nights spent wicked and desirable in the sunless corners of his bedroom. Still, it was something new he had discovered, his ability to be bewitching outside of it too.

It shouldn't surprise him really, how they yearn and plead for his attention, for the chance to grab and squeeze and throttle him to pieces and yet it does. He ignores his own bewilderment, only bats his eyes flirtatiously when they give him a drag of their joint, his leg dragging itself sensually across his other in the crumpled nest of their sheets. They want to take and take and take. Hyunjin lets them.

He isn't a child anymore, has not been one for a long time he thinks, but he's grown now, mature enough to understand that these are the boys he should be touching, should be burning like hot coals into his flesh only to discard of them later. He's fifteen. He knows these things now.

His mother, however, does not. She surges through his room with a newfound, explosive anger he has not seen in years, his mind and body far too numb and dulled from her usual, snide remarks.

She scours through his stuff with the conviction of the starved, hungry and desperate to sink her blood-drawing talons into him. His room is bombarded every night, clothes scattered everywhere, makeup items smashed against the wall. His mother yells at him, face red in rage as she throws her discoveries into a plastic trash bag.

Condoms. Eyeliner. Weed. Cigarettes. Lingerie. Where did he get this, who bought it for him, how dare he disobey her in her own house, how dare he disobey the Lord?

Hyunjin wants to laugh in her face, maybe spit in it too. He would, if not for the horrid dread that always paralyzes him when his room gets messy. This time he's still high, his clothes disheveled from the backseat of the car he'd spent the night in and so it only makes him snicker instead.

She asks questions, demanding answers and never really wanting them at all. This time Hyunjin will give them to her.

Condoms - he buys regular packs from the liquor store. Cigarettes too. The eyeliner he thinks he shoplifted, although he doesn't remember it very clearly. The weed - well, a gift really. From the college boy he's fucking.

The lingerie. Hyunjin stares at her twitching, bursting face and tells her she doesn't want to know. Hyunjin can see the pearly terror shine through her eyes as her face pales momentarily and yet she continues to scream, godless word after godless word hurled gleefully in his direction. She doesn't want to know because she already does. Hyunjin can tell, by the way she shakily drops his underwear back onto his bed unharmed.

His stepfather is standing by the doorway, watching their screaming match unfold in silence. Hyunjin can feel his presence like a sick patch of some rash or sore that won't peel itself from his skin.

For a second he's tempted to say it, utter the words that would have his mother retching on her knees in disbelief, to stomp and shove the dirtied truth of nightfall straight into her throat. But then his stomach plummets in nausea as he's reminded of everything he tries to make himself forget day after day and suddenly nothing seems funny anymore. Hyunjin should know better than thinking to forget the inescapable.

So he says nothing, lets the three of them believe in their little lie for yet another, unendurable day. The bile burns in his throat as he shoves his way past his doorframe, eyes refusing to focus on anything. He doesn't sleep home that night.

 

-

 

Hyunjin should know that waking up in someone else's bed is a clear promise of bad omens to come. After all, he never spends the night when indulging in such carnal vices of the flesh, always too tethered and tightly strung with the impending need of cleanliness, self-sacrifice as he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs away his misdeeds, praying, bleeding for whatever deity has carved itself into his mind to listen to him.

Which is exactly why, as he groggily wipes away the remnants of sleep from his eyes and slowly, confusedly blinks his way back to clear-headedness, Hyunjin panics.

With bated breath, he turns his head to the side as memories from last night begin to flood through him, his heart pounding in a strange taste of bitterness he doesn't understand once he sees the side next to him empty and crumpled. Ripping off the sheets that smother him Hyunjin searches frantically for his clothes upon the wooden panels of the floor, head aching as his chest starts to clench painfully, desperate to get out from the walls that cave him in.

He spots his white, oversized shirt folded upon a chair in the corner, his fingers shaky as they button it back up, cool air swirling gently across his bare legs. It doesn't matter how much he scans the bedroom, no pants are in sight. Hyunjin groans, opening the bedroom door as he slips his way outside, footsteps light and bundled with nerves as he slowly makes his way across the apartment.

Sometimes, Hyunjin thinks, his presence in the place he called his own home would be hard to notice to the naked eye, walls and floors gleaming and spotless each and every day. Here, Hyunjin discerns, it becomes very apparent that each creak and crevice have become well lived in, littered with tokens and colors of personality, memories, a childhood in flourish.

Hyunjin steps carefully around a heap of scattered toys in what he guesses to be the living room, color books strewn across a coffee table, homey, crocheted pillows neatly nestled into the couch.

Multiple bookcases adorn each side of the TV, colorful, bright hardcovers with childish scribbles painted across the spines, framed photos making an appearance every now and then as if to break up the flow of literature with small windows into a well-cared for past.

Hyunjin stares at the photos for longer than he'd like to admit, overwhelmed really from the amount of, well, things, each picture shiny and in good shape, like fine sets of jewels, the cheerful grin of a young, dark-haired girl greeting him in each one.

Hyunjin has to rip his gaze away in order not to become dizzy, feet inching their way toward the living room as the sound of something cracking tunnels in on his attention.

There, back to the kitchen counter and dining table and entirely in his own world, Changbin starts breaking eggs with seamless finesse, discarding the shells carefully as he starts mixing them in a bowl.

Something heavy settles in his gut as Hyunjin makes his way over, eyes determined not to start wandering around once again. He clears his throat once he reaches the kitchen counter, hips jutting against it slightly as Changbin whips around, face twisting into an immediate smile.

Hyunjin frowns, eyes narrowing sharply. "Where are my pants?"

"Good morning to you too," Changbin says, eyes scanning over him quickly. God, he hopes he doesn't look like the wreck brewing inside of him. A wave of nausea plummets through his stomach. Why the fuck does he care?

"I put them up," he says, smile gentle as he averts his attention back to the eggs. "So that they'd dry completely."

Hyunjin peers at him with half-hearted suspicion, his hair tousled still, simple t-shirt and sweatpants clinging to him comfortably. "Why do I feel like you purposefully hid them?"

Changbin laughs at that, looking back up at him as a charming grin flits itself across his face. Hyunjin feels sick. "Maybe."

He whips his head around once again, eyes landing upon the clothing rack by the front door, bright shoes in all kinds of colors neatly placed upon a wooden shoe rack. He thinks he can see one with a glittery unicorn on it. Hyunjin swallows harshly, turning his gaze back to Changbin's. Since when are kids' feet that small?

"I, uh, have stuff to do," he says, smile tight as his heart hammers uncomfortably. "Gotta get going."

Changbin stares at him for a second too long, eyes billowing with mystery once again before he nods in understanding. "Sure." He gestures swiftly to the frying pan on the stove, hands still full with the bowl of eggs. "Well, I'm making scrambled eggs if you want any before you go."

Hyunjin purses his lips, stomach in knots, unsure really of what to say and yet fate seems to be on his side, unknown words fizzling into dust as a loud rattling coming from the door startles the both of them.

Hyunjin's neck snaps toward the sound, eyes widening as it opens, the slow birth of his doom seeping into the apartment in buzzing, bursting downpours. Fate is definitely not on his side.

His entire body freezes in horror as he stares into the two confused expressions stilling by the doorway, dread flooding his stomach as his heart lodges itself into his throat. Pulsating with an expectant, gleaming curiosity, a little girl stares up at him with an excited grin no longer halted by bewilderment as her gaze flits back and forth between him and Changbin, long, dark hair in pretty braids as she starts rocking back and forth on her heel. "Daddy, guess what!"

Changbin's answer dies in his throat, his own face completely drained of any color, mortified as he stares back at the doorway with blank, wide eyes. The older woman standing next to her, now slowly composing herself from her surprise, gives Hyunjin an unwavering look, subtle as it may be, as her eyes scan his attire with skepticism, or really his lack of attire.

Never has he ever been so glad for his affinity of oversized shirts, the hem luckily reaching him mid-thigh, sparing anyone from a clear view of his not-so-muted lace lingerie. Still, it's clear as a day that she immediately understands what's happened, how could she not really, when he's standing here half-naked and on the brink of death.

Her lips purse as her gaze flits back to Changbin, their resemblance uncanny and Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever wanted the ground to swallow him as much as this moment.

"You guys are here early," Changbin says, tone strained as he tries to keep it lighthearted yet fizzling into a weak, panic-sown smile.

Changbin's mother clears her throat, sending a pointed look in Hyunjin's direction as she raises her eyebrow questioningly. "Yes, we wanted to surprise you. Of course we didn't know you'd be having company..." she trails off, mouth forming into a strange smile as she looks at her son.

Staring back mortified, Hyunjin unwillingly meets Jia's gaze, eyes staring up at him intently as if bursting to ask a million question. Yep, he's definitely going to die.

"Um yeah, this is Hyunjin..." Changbin's voice snaps his attention back to him, heart thrumming in his chest with such velocity he's sure it's about to come tumbling out at any second. He wants to scream at Changbin to shut up and yet he remains frozen still, limbs cold and rigid as he can only watch his demise unfold with dread pooling in his stomach. "From...he's-we work together."

Something clicks in Changbin's mother's head right then, her gaze landing back on him as she raises an eyebrow once more. "Ah, I see," she says and if her stare hadn't been judgmental before, Hyunjin thinks he can now feel it sizzling across his skin with fiery doubt as she nods slowly. "From the club."

"I was just leaving," Hyunjin grits out, the words harsher than he intends them to as they come tumbling out of his mouth, tight smile plastered on his face as his fingers ache to pinch themselves against his skin.

"Wait!" Jia bursts out suddenly, the playful grin on her lips expanding substantially. "You need to see the surprise too!"

Hyunjin stares back with an expression he can only assume looks like a mixture between horrified and constipated, eyes widening in skepticism at her unnerving smile and resolute insistence.

Changbin sighs endearingly as he stares down at her, body still rigid and tense. "What did you bring Jia, because I've already told you a million times no more animals in the apartment-"

"Look what we found!" The words register in Hyunjin's brain a little too late as Jia steps toward them closely, grin as bright as the eclipsing sun as she thrusts forward the most slimy, bumpy, gigantic frog Hyunjin has ever seen right in his face, its eyes wide and blinking as it stares at him disgustingly. Hyunjin shrieks immediately, jumping back in shock and aversion as Jia laughs in delight.

Hand placed on his pounding heart, Hyunjin sees that Changbin's mother, too, suppresses a laugh, the hairs on the back of his neck still rigid in shock.

He turns to look at Changbin angrily then, throat dry and scratchy as he hisses lowly. "Where are they?"

"The bathroom, the bathroom," Changbin rushes out, panic flitting across his face as he seems to get the message. Hyunjin turns toward the only unopened door he can assume to be the bathroom immediately, the sound of Jia trying to justify bringing a bullfrog into their home disappearing faintly as he closes the door shut.

He spots the pants with a desperate swiftness as he begins tugging them on, eyes catching his own gaze in the mirror as he hurriedly tries to smoothen out how obviously fucked out he looks. What the fuck was he thinking, sleeping with someone with kids? A fucking dad?

Grumbling to himself, he fishes forward his phone and keys still thankfully tucked into his pockets as he makes his way out, muscles determined and steadfast as they make their way toward the front door, eyes narrowed sharply upon it as if a gracious beacon to an exit he's been yearning for all his life.

Changbin looks at him with a sense of painful understanding as soon as he spots him treading back into the living room, eyes droopy and punctured as if trying to apologize. Hyunjin ignores him, smiling tightly to nobody in particular as he utters out a strained, "I'm gonna go."

The last thing he sees before opening the door and closing it firmly shut behind him is the bright-eyed smile of Jia once again thrusting that revolting creature in his direction and yelling "Bye!" in a strangely contorted voice as if talking through the frog. Hyunjin flinches visibly again, walking away as fast as he can down the building hallway as soon as the door closes, footsteps brisk and brewing with desperation, doing everything he can not to sprint out like a maniac.

God, how fucking embarrassing, Hyunjin thinks, the blazing sun from outside greeting him painfully as he makes his way home, head pounding in the familiar welcoming of his daily migraine, skin itching in the aching need for harsh, vicious claws, for relief.

His showers are twice as long that day, mostly bound in pitiful, fruitless attempts at scratching out the dirt inside his lungs, heavy and perfumed with something clogging them up, choking him slowly. For a small, terrifying fraction of a second Hyunjin thinks there might be something spindly and with thorns growing within the soil.

Then, because he's once again being irrational, overthinking, bleeding horned, gruesome thoughts, he calms down slightly. Whatever it is will wither without rainfall anyway. And luckily for him, Hyunjin's only ever known the drought of desert.

Notes:

aaand here comes hyunjin’s existential crisis lol

it finally happened 🤭🤭 honestly this was probably one of my favorite chapters to write hihi

thank you to everyone for reading!! see you next monday 🫶💕

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 6: City of Prisms

It's a Monday when the firmly-set, superficially disappointed lips of his guidance counselor tells him he needs to repeat a year. Hyunjin blinks at her then, the slow clock above her head like patters of raindrops - each brightly colored poster marring the walls sprouting with exclamations about how education is important, the vessel of progression toward any future worth living.

She continues, speaking in sickened tongues about how he won't be able to graduate if he goes on to his Senior Year. Nausea burrows into his gut. He laughs, repeating her words with hollow echoes of misery. This can't come as a surprise she tells him, he's been made well-aware that he's been failing almost every subject for months. It isn't funny then, as his head begins to buzz in a low, irritating scratch and the muscles of his jaw start clicking in restlessness.

What are his plans for the future, she asks, what does he want out of life. Hyunjin says nothing, lets the words pass through his mind like whispers in the breeze, too preoccupied, too doused in the urge to zip open his backpack and grab one of those pills he'd received yesterday. His leg jitters in agitation.

It isn't until he's back home, staring wordlessly into the cracked seams of his bathroom mirror that he understands what she's saying, understands exactly what she's saying. To her, ignorant and blissful, it is but the assurance of a future not spent blue-collared and exhausted from the dwindling trails of poverty nipping at the back of his heels.

But Hyunjin knows, knows what she doesn't that it means nothing of the sort, instead carries with it rotted, monstrous promises of yet another year bound to the decaying scent of his peeling wallpaper, stuck and sticky against threadbare bedsheets, cursed to the illusion of living in a dollhouse for three-hundred and sixty five more days, the most wretched, moth-infested dollhouse he's ever seen, bouncing around like an unleashed tightly-woven string, angry, regretful, sad, coy, playful playful playful, disgusting, ashamed, numb in his bed unable to get up, again and again and a fucking again.

Mondays bring with them nothing but ashen gray lead to spill across his face. Hyunjin looks at himself for far too long, dull, ghostlike - his eyes empty shells of something too harshly popped out, seconds from bursting in a cradle of neglect.

Tuesdays are better, only slightly so, his skin shiny and with color, lips glossy, eyes heavy, so so pretty. He doesn't look like himself, a mask really, a shadow of something dark and in search of distraction, high, floating sensations to swirl around his head, a dove covered in powdery, obsidian substances that glitter in the night, sinful, captivating, chest loose and in titters as it presses itself against someone else's. Someone he doesn't know, someone he can preen and soak up attention from until he's vomiting in the back of a car.

Dizzy. Tired. Hyunjin doesn't know where he is. Good, that's good. That means he isn't home.

The sickness that follows drains him of heavy lead, his guts puking out enough memories for him to feel idle, starless specks of something stained upon the midnight sky.

Then, because Tuesdays are always too short, always too fleeting, scrapes into him the grueling force of a red, sizzling Wednesday, scalding and burning and tearing off his flesh in large, unsightly chunks before he has a chance to recover, to make his nimble legs stand up without tumbling back down again.

This time, in the mirror, Hyunjin thinks he sees nothing but blood, nips of his skin seeping small remnants of three-leafed clovers, eyes blind and in agony from the amount of gasoline his tear ducts begin to trickle. No lunch today, his mother tells him and Hyunjin wants to scream until his throat chokes on its own lack of dwindling breaths. He's been so rude lately, so aggressive. Even during prayer. Hyunjin thinks he might throw a chair against the wall, stomach clenching in all too familiar thrums of pain.

Wednesdays mean hunger yes, but birdkeepers are good at keeping their little pets safe and so Hyunjin sits in a fuming silence as the car drives and drives. He buys him a sandwich, because he knows he likes them, he says. And a cookie. Hyunjin knows what it means, treats are for good pets, pets that listen, pets that obey. Hyunjin says nothing, refuses to look at him.

What's going on, he asks, why are you so angry, so sad. Hyunjin wants to scream and yet he doesn't. Stupid fucking birdkeeper, stupid fucking rotten food that tastes like bile in his mouth! Don't be like that, he whispers, murmurs of something sullied and unholy on the cusp of his tongue, what happened to my sweet, little dove?

What happened, what happened, Hyunjin doesn't know what happened, his heart squeezes painfully. He leaps out of the car, slams the door angrily and walks home alone. He crushes the cookie to pitiful crumbles with the heel of his foot, sidewalk littered with his fragments.

Thursdays are different, much, much different, his bones heavy, dense, limbs infused to his sheets as the morning trickles by. He doesn't go to school that day. He doesn't think of much at all that day, not really. Not really, no, his eyes boring holes into the bumps on his ceiling.

Times passes differently on Thursdays, a strange blur of hollow rumbles that never reach past the tight constricting of his chest. It isn't until he drags his tired feet to the bathroom that he looks at himself. He feels nothing. Numb. Dripping slopes of decaying clay falling to the floor. His birdkeeper pays him no attention on Thursdays, keeping his distance, scared perhaps, of being bitten by his dove.

Good, Hyunjin thinks. He doesn't care. He looks in the mirror again, the rifts like jarring punctures of his veins as he stares into them. He looks ugly now. Discarded, small, rotten little thing in the shadowed corner. He feels sick. His gut starts to thaw.

Fridays are for games, he thinks, and nobody is better at games than he is, nobody, nobody. His mother hates him the most on Fridays because that's when he's the prettiest, the shiniest, the most alluringly feathered little honeysuckle in their backyard.

In the mirror he isn't obsidian anymore, isn't covered in glittery streaks of midnight, instead he beams softly, sweetly, lips wrapped in ribbons of sugar, so so addicting. Fridays are like the summertime, sticky and wet, full of hypnotized insects trailing after spilled strips of syrup on the countertop.

They follow him all the way until his bedroom, nestling themselves in the walls, burrowing into his sheets. Hyunjin lets them watch as he strips, pools of abandoned clothing forgotten on the floor, the sunlight from outside the window cascading like dancing lights upon his tanned, honeydew skin. He's perfect like this, tempting, beautiful, bewitcher of barren rays of a cacti desert.

Fridays are the best, he thinks, with those lucky little critters so obsessively addicted to their own hunger. Doves know how to fly in circles too, up and down, up and down, wings spreading and stretching so so pleasingly. Pearly, silvered showbird.

On Saturdays, Hyunjin finds that illness usually befalls him, sharp itching rashes blooming across his skin, slicing into his stomach, arms, thighs, everywhere really, where he still remains fruitlessly intact. Distorted, monstrous, his skin becomes sickly green in the mirror, caverns of spindly, deep-rooted revulsion spilling from his guts.

The urge to tear his skin off never seems so appealing, so wholly and resolutely necessary as on Saturday, cursed, wicked day really, how he detests them so and their horrid reflections that sink poison-laced claws into his flesh. Saturdays are for scrubbing. On his knees, pleading, praying to the cross upon their living room wall for something he can't pronounce clearly, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning.

Their house is disgusting, had it always been so tainted and scattered with remnants of foul-smelling waste? His mother sneers at his strangeness, childishness, him, the absolute freak she yells, rigid and desperate as he rubs the kitchen counters in religious circles of three, one, two, three, waste of water she mutters, one, two, three, waste of space she yells, one, two, three, please don't interrupt him, one, two, three, waste of life she screams, one, two- she knocks over a bottle on purpose, something thick and yellow oozing across the countertops. No, no, no, now he has start all over!

Eyes prickling with tears, teeth clenching in frustration, Hyunjin continues until the sun starts to set. His mother laughs at him, mocking, joyful. Hyunjin wants to spit in her face. She wasn't laughing yesterday, no she wasn't. Waves of nausea punch through him with the memory. He ignores her then, one, two, three, one, two, three, arm burning from the strain of soapy, inescapable circles.

Sunday. God's day. Sundays are for church and nightmares. Stuffy walls and droning sermons, hymns that chime like broken, withering bells against his ears. Eye rolling, yawning, the urge to start trailing his fingers along the thigh of the married stranger sitting next to him.

Yet this Sunday, cast away from the Lord's bleak and antiseptic light, is different, fused instead with horrid, grueling dreams he can't run away from, the revolting scuttling of bugs creeping along his skin, tiny and disgusting, prowling into his mouth, ears, eyes, anywhere really until he's entirely infested, stuffed to the brim with unspeakable little creatures, small, loathsome monsters feasting on his insides and they're all over him, all over him, he thrashes against the bed, slaps them off his skin and they won't leave, they won't, he can feel them, taste them, how filthy they are, how absolutely revolting they are, those hideous, hideous things and now they're inside him and he can't get them out! He can't, he can't- Hyunjin wakes up with a start, fingers clawing at his chest.

Not real, not real. Sunday ghosts, that's all. It's only when he's able to breathe again that he feels it, a dreadful, terrorizing realization, something wet trickling down his leg.

No. No, no, no, no, no, he peels off his sheets and underwear with frantic hysteria, foul-smell making him gag as he scrambles to hide them, his mother can't know, she can't know! And yet she does, of course she does because Sundays are for shame and she's the only one who does any laundry and she curses him to damnation, Devil-child, embarrassing, disgraceful, how could she have bore such a disgusting, repulsive boy! Rotten, rotten, yes, he was born rotten and a mistake. How sick he makes her, wetting the bed like a child, how humiliating!

Sundays are for church, but not today. She doesn't let him. He's embarrassed God. He cries in the bathroom, hunched over and with nails digging sharply into his skin, tears and snot streaming across his face. He looks ghastly like this, ugly and decomposing. Shame courses through him, words echoing through his searing head. She's right, she's right, she's right-

Birdkeepers are good at keeping their doves calm, he finds out, body red and raw from his clawing as he rocks back and forth upon the tiles. Strong arms wrap around him. Hyunjin falls into them easily, burying his face into his chest, crying, crying, crying, letting his wings fall apart like heavy rocks succumbing to gravity.

He's never wept in front of his collector before. He says nothing, only rubbing circles upon his little bird's back until it can finally breathe again. Then, like whispers so much holier, so much brighter, he clings onto them more than idle, church-bound hymns. You're not disgusting. You're pretty. Even when you cry. Your mother, she's just jealous.

Yes, Hyunjin prays, prays and prays and prays through the night, please be true, please, please, please. Do you want me to go, his birdkeeper asks. Hyunjin clutches onto his shirt with desperate, fumbling claws, eyes blinking in the fresh birth of yet another downpour. Stay. Don't go. Please, not like this, not now. Sundays are for the weak.

Hyunjin wishes doves didn't live so long. They don't, not really, not in the wild. In captivity they can live up to ten times as long. Poor birds. Doomed to repeat the rumbles of their cages. The days go on. Again and again and again, mindless echoes of each other as they stumble in the mornings, swallow him through nightfall. Up and down, up and down. His wings feel tired. Heavy. He wants to tear them apart. Hyunjin hates Sundays the most.

-

Hyunjin thinks time is particularly difficult to speed through these days, his incessant need to distract himself with other, bloodier mantras to live by proving excruciating to focus on. Even in sleep does he refrain from pacifying his restless, jittery bones, limbs aching in their inability to let the days pass by him without the slow stirring of dark casted memories.

Luckily for him Changbin hasn't been at work the last few shifts, the only remnants of their night bundled up in long, apologizing messages asking if he's okay. Hyunjin ignores them, because really he shouldn't care, doesn't care yet his eyes flit around in exasperating hope of landing on something else once his bodyguard comes back to work, muscles and frame caved in toward him as if wanting to get closer.

Hyunjin doesn't let him, busies himself with all the sensuality and wickedness he manages to squeeze out of himself instead, burning in beauty and allure and everything far, far away from purified whispers of God on stage. He can feel them, that hot, scalding gaze against his skin, body tingling, limbs tensing, distracting him from focusing on what he needs to do, what he was born to do.

As soon as he's off and stumbling toward his dressing room, nose itching in agitation, does Changbin once again try to approach him, apologizing, smiling, expression strangely confusing and even more difficult to read than usual. Hyunjin only returns a tight, feigned smile and tells him not to worry about it before slamming the door shut, fingers rumbling in the throbbing need to start searching for his little white-powdered packet.

Nightfall is no different, renders him immobile and sweaty as he tries to go to sleep, memories flooding in such sharp jabs of vividness he nearly smothers himself with a pillow, fiery, palpitating satisfaction of teeth and ink-swirled skin against his own, so good and so real, too real as it unfolds itself in glimmering fractions throughout his mind. Hyunjin doesn't know whether he's about to start screaming or drooling.

Anger floods through him then, vicious and rattling as it reverberates in his bones - what the fuck is wrong with him? He shakes his head, loud, humorless laughter escaping itself in thunders within his mind. He's just needy, needy and restless from spending the nights untouched. That's all.

He supposes that it's why, though he doesn't really care enough to dwell on for it more than a fraction of a second, he finds himself knocking coolly against a familiar door the following morning, stomach coiling tightly as it opens with pleasant surprise.

Jinyoung grins at him immediately, momentary confusion seeping away like water droplets down the drain as he takes him in - low rise jeans, red-hemmed white baby tee, shiny, glossy lips, belly button piercing shimmering in all its glory. Hyunjin smirks. He knows he looks good, effortless, simplistic beauty of a lily in bloom. Jinyoung lets him in unfalteringly.

Hyunjin steps inside his apartment, or perhaps it's closer to being labeled as a penthouse really, with small bundles of nerves scurrying around his stomach, sending him a coy smile as Jinyoung closes the door behind him. It isn't his first time and yet the subtle display of grandeur and luxury always take him by surprise, sour remnants scraping against the top of his mouth as if he isn't supposed to be there.

"So," Jinyoung asks, tilting his head to the side as if gauging him in cautious interest. Hyunjin frowns, yet Jinyoung still regards him pleasantly, small glint glimmering in his eyes. "To what do I owe this little visit? You're not here for coke, are you? 'Cause I'm all out-"

"It's fine." He smiles, his stomach grumbling in annoyance. Jinyoung seems slightly taken aback by his answer and maybe the unnervingly docile way in which he peers up at him, but his face settles into an appeased grin, head nodding in resolution.

"Alright," he says, feet making his way to the bar conjoined to the kitchen, turning around for a second as Hyunjin follows suit. "Want a drink?"

"Sure." His lips purse slightly, eyes flitting around the apartment before he can stop them, landing on the large glass windowpanes that stretch themselves like walls by plush, velvet couches on the opposite side of the room, windows to gaze upon the unfolding vice-covered city before them. "I'll take a-"

"Whiskey sour," Jinyoung finishes the sentence for him, giving him a playful grin as Hyunjin whips his head around in surprise. "Yeah, I know."

Something uneasy settles within his gut, teeth biting sharply against his lips momentarily as he watches Jinyoung start fishing forward the ingredients with an all too comfortable sense of ease. Hyunjin leans into the counter quietly, staring at an intently focused Jinyoung across from him squeezing firmly onto a lemon, his eyebrow raising questioningly once he notices his staring.

"How'd you know that?" Hyunjin narrows his eyes, careful to keep his voice playful, ignoring the sudden queasy feeling billowing through his stomach.

Jinyoung laughs, shrugging as if it's nothing. "You always order it. Just remembered, I guess."

He pushes his torso slightly across the counter, the sound of Jinyoung shaking the mixer rattling against his ear. Hyunjin squints up at him, familiar muscles of a face he's looked into too many times suddenly crashing through him like he's never seen them before. "Do you remember Minho's order? He drinks way more than me."

Jinyoung shoots him a grin, straining the cocktail into an old-fashioned glass. "I think you're underestimating how much you drink."

"Hey!" Jinyoung ignores his exaggerated indignation, finishing his drink off with the citrusy taste of an orange wheel and cherry on top before sliding it over to him. Hyunjin accepts it gratefully, swallowing the urge to down it in one go.

Jinyoung starts making his own and it's with a gut-churning realization that it dawns on Hyunjin what it is before he even manages to fish forward the right liquor bottles. Manhattan. Jinyoung bites the insides of his cheek as he pours the sweet vermouth into a mixing glass. "But no, I'm not sleeping with Minho so why would I care?"

His mouth tastes oddly of numb, wet cotton, eyes peering up at the man before him with a strange pooling of turmoil and light-headed tipsiness. He really can't hold his liquor. His mind grumbles at himself angrily. Why is he acting like this? Fucking hell.

Biting his lip slightly, he sets down his glass, fingers circling the rim loosely as he leans forward, willowy and intrigued. "So you've never slept with Minho? Not even once?"

Jinyoung stops stirring his drink, pausing to look into him with an unreadable expression. "No."

Hyunjin tilts his head, the knots in his chest beginning to come undone as he swirls the sour taste of mindlessness upon his tongue. Jinyoung goes back to fixing his cocktail, straining the clear, brown liquor into a Nick and Nora. "Have you ever wanted to?"

"Eh," is all Jinyoung quips, placing a small lemon twist upon his finished drink, eyes flitting back up to look at him as he takes a sip. "Too scary."

Hyunjin bites back a grin, a strange sense of hunger bristling through his chest, gnawing sweetly upon the addicting strips of wetness against his lips. He pretends not to notice the way darkening eyes flicker down to graze against them. "What about Felix?"

Jinyoung shrugs, words nearly escaping him as he starts to finish his own drink, stomach floaty and light. "Felix, I don't know, he's very passive."

Hyunjin hums, turning briefly around and hoisting himself up on the countertop, crawling sultrily to the other side where Jinyoung stands firm and unmoving, gaze burning into him mesmerized.

"And me?" He stretches out his thighs to sit down, legs dangling off the counter as Jinyoung moves in closer, both arms placed assertively against the surface next to each side of his waist. Ready, eager to circle him.

"Well you're certainly not passive, that's for sure," Jinyoung murmurs, and Hyunjin hooks his own leg around his lower-back, drawing him closer, stomach coiling deliciously. Jinyoung regards him with the eyes of the very city they live in; impure, light-scattered. "Scary, yes sometimes but in a sexy way, not in the 'I'm afraid you might slit my throat one day' kind of way."

Hyunjin lifts himself off the countertop, feet planted firmly on the floor as his arms snake their way across the sturdy chest in front of him, peering up with coy, grinning eyes. Jinyoung's hands grip his waist immediately. "So you think I'm sexy?"

Jinyoung laughs at that. Hyunjin tilts his head, looping his fingers into his belt. "You're really asking that right now?"

"Mmh." Hyunjin leans in closely, low breaths of whispers fanning against his neck. The smell of familiar cologne washes over him like scented fields of a harsh, root-filled autumn. "Tell me."

Jinyoung's clutch around his waist moves down to his hips then, strong, possessive, fingers tugging him along toward the door he knows leads to soon to be sticky sheets, Hyunjin trailing after him like a bee in search of rotted, dark-colored honey.

"Yes," Jinyoung mutters, low and husky, eyes boring deep into his own. Hyunjin's head swirls in satisfaction. "You're very sexy. More than sexy."

The door swings open as soon as Jinyoung's back hits against it, dragging him into his bedroom, the walls bound with hues of velvety plushness, bed large and glimmering temptingly in the lack of skin to thread against. Hyunjin preens from the attention, fingers skimming beneath the hem of his shirt, teasing, lower and lower.

"Tell me," he pushes his own body against his, tantalizing whispers grazing against the shell of his ear as he leans in, "what you want to do to me."

Jinyoung grabs his jaw harshly then, forcing it to still as he pushes his thumb into his mouth, eyes clouding rapidly with murky, godless thoughts no doubt. "Suck," is all he says, and Hyunjin obeys eagerly, eye-contact buzzing and unyielding as he follows orders, licking and sucking greedily, the knots in his stomach back tight and rigid, tingling from the excitement of bursting free.

Jinyoung pushes him onto the bed, finger still wet and coated in saliva against his tongue as Hyunjin closes his eyes, the sound muffled and filthy once he starts to moan. It seems to be enough to break the man hovering above him, eyes blackening completely as Jinyoung retracts his thumb, hurriedly unbuckling his belt as Hyunjin copies him, peeling off his jeans and t-shirt, mind whirring with the impatient need to fill his senses with vicious talons of pleasure.

Hyunjin groans the minute his wishes become fulfilled, eyes catching his own reflection in the large, soulless mirror on the wall, his sullied, wrung-out streams of lust spilling seductively across his face, mouth drooping open in high-pitched whines, eyes rolling like pinwheels to the back of his head, body stripped and alluring, hot, melting candlewax to scald you from the insides.

Jinyoung fucks into him roughly from behind, one arm tight against his hip, the other burning as it rests just below his neck to hold him up, low, rumbling sounds of pleasure tingling against his ear.

Hyunjin's always found Jinyoung to be attractive, handsome and desirable in a resilient, rough-hewn kind of way, especially like this, rugged and unleashed from petty rules of self-restraint, determined, unflinching from taking what he wants, pushing and pushing to chase the golden hued horizon before him.

Yes, Hyunjin's never thought of anyone else, of anything else with Jinyoung plunging into him like he always does, rough, commanding, playing the game Hyunjin loves so much and yet his heart freezes momentarily, poorly-concealed memories of something else, something preciously honed and destroyed by his own unsteady hand billowing through him in sick, bumpy ripples.

Sharp visions of ink begin to trickle down his head, seeping down his chest, icy against his stomach. Hyunjin stares hopelessly as his own fucked-out expression turns panicked and fumbling in the mirror, the coils in his gut screwing back together in rigid, unfeeling knots bound by something else entirely. He flits his eyes back up to Jinyoung's reflection, face contorted in pleasure still, too focused on ploughing into him to notice.

Hyunjin screws his eyes shut, mouth spilling open in breathless moans, unsure really whether they're real or not. His stomach flares. "Choke me," he breathes out, exhales trailing into another floaty whine as Jinyoung picks up his pace.

"Are you sure?" He pants, eyebrows scrunching together in hesitancy, hooded-eyes meeting his own in the mirror across from the bed.

Hyunjin tilts his neck back just slightly, chest hot and vicious and barren from something to destroy it with. "Yes," he moans and it's really all the confirmation Jinyoung seems to need. "Choke me."

The large hand supporting his chest snakes its way up immediately, wrapping itself tightly against his neck as it begins to squeeze. Jinyoung continues behind him with an unrelenting force, fingers pressing harshly into his neck, the thought of him leaving bruises only surging forward the lightheaded sensation beginning to swoop right through him. Hyunjin thinks of nothing then, nothing but the tingling, aching sensation of breathlessness, his vision spotty and magnificent as it starts to spin.

"Harder," he manages to gasp, the sound in ruins as it leaves his lips, mouth gagging on a phantom force of something absolutely delicious, Jinyoung's fingers squeezing as he groans, guttural and rigorous as a faint ringing sound begins to tickle his ears.

Hyunjin thinks he sees, before his vision starts to shrink to small pinpricks of white, spotty dots, Jinyoung's eyes roll to the back of his head, one sharp, animalistic squeeze of his throat - yes, yes, yes, choke him to pulps of nothingness - before letting go entirely, unsatisfactory relief of breathing pummeling into him once more.

Hyunjin blinks, white specks still swirling in his vision. He thinks he can feel something slip out of him, slump against the bed maybe and yet he can't tell, mind fuzzy and light and far, far away.

He stumbles to the side momentarily, legs planting themselves off the bed and against the floor, eyesight spinning still as his knees buckle beneath him, limbs staggering off-balance as he falls, mind dizzy and faint, strong arms catching him suddenly right before he hits the floor.

"Holy shit," someone mutters, the sound distant, underwater against his ear. Hyunjin blinks again, warped vision seeping tiredly into spotlessness.

A continuous calling of his name brings him slowly back to clarity, burnt and brittle at the edges as he feels himself being carried back into the bed, head hitting the softness of a pillow, chest steadying itself in the ability to breathe.

Hyunjin sighs as he takes in his surroundings, the sound swelling in the back of his throat and tumbling out in shattered whines instead. Jinyoung's concerned, tightly-knit face peers down at him cautiously, the lines on his forehead rattled with guilt. "Are you okay?"

Hyunjin pushes himself up to lie supported on his elbows, strands of hair sticky against his skin. "I'm fine," he breathes out, the clinging sensation of sweat like horrible, dirt-ladled layers molding into his flesh. He stares up at Jinyoung, eyes pointed in insistence as his head steadies itself entirely. "Really."

"I'm sorry," Jinyoung ushers out, expression marred still in distress. "I shouldn't have choked you."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, the fabric of the sheets beneath him cradling against his sticky legs like wet pieces of paper to slippery skin. He wants to scratch himself out of his body. "Don't be stupid, I asked you-"

"And I shouldn't have listened," Jinyoung interrupts him firmly, staring down at him with determined, almost chastising embers ablaze in his eyes. "You have don't exactly have a habit of asking for things that are good for you."

Hyunjin's stomach twists uncomfortably, scoffing as he sits himself further up, Jinyoung gazing into him as if containing all the answers he's been too terrified to search for, each muscle of his jaw, thread of his eyebrow woven with something more mountainous than the simple canyons he himself molds night after night.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Hyunjin hates playing games he doesn't know the rules to. He's beginning to think Jinyoung might be breaking them. "I told you I'm fine."

"You almost fainted!" Jinyoung insists, face contorting once more into one of boundless worry. Hyunjin almost shrinks beneath his gaze, arms restraining themselves from wrapping around his torso.

"I just haven't eaten today," he says, voice coming out in raspy murmurs, shoulders shrugging as he leans his head against the headboard. It really isn't that big of a deal. "That's all."

Apparently to Jinyoung it is, his expression curving into one of exasperated disbelief, eyes bulging as they bore into him. "You haven't eaten all day?!"

Hyunjin shakes his head, eyes squinting in confusion as Jinyoung stands up, deep, rumbling sigh seeping its way out of his chest as he starts making his way toward his wardrobe, slipping on a simple bathrobe before turning back to stare at him.

Hyunjin can't tell if he's angry or disappointed or concerned, perhaps all of them and the thought that even the slightest amount of trace of any such emotion might be brewing within Jinyoung for something as ridiculous as this - Hyunjin bites the inside of his cheek harshly, his eyes narrowing as if guarded.

Jinyoung sighs again. "And then you come here, drink on an empty stomach and ask me to choke you?" Hyunjin feels strangely like he's being scolded by one of the nuns at church for not paying attention during mass. The feeling leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "Wait here, I'm getting you some food."

The words register in his brain too slowly, Jinyoung turning his back to him as he starts walking out the door, Hyunjin's eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment. "What, no-"

Jinyoung turns around once more to glare at him harshly, though there's something curved and littered with gentle cords embroidered along the seams. "I said wait here."

Hyunjin can only stare back forlornly as Jinyoung closes the door behind him, a strange mixture of something heavy and slimy circling in his gut. He inches off the bed slowly, pointedly avoiding his own reflection in the mirror as he starts searching for his clothes, pulling up his underwear and pants with shaky, agitated fingers.

Even his t-shirt feels unusually smudged in filth as he slips it over his head, fingers running through his hair in a feeble attempt at smoothening it out. He needs to get home soon, needs to wash away the eerie tricks his mind keeps playing on him, stare quietly and in numbness as they circle down the drain.

Jinyoung takes a surprising amount of time to return, Hyunjin's eyes scanning the vastness of his bedroom, fingers ghosting along to the curtains pulled away from the large balcony as he considers opening the doors and stepping out onto it, extending himself drastically over the ledge as he peers down upon the city below him.

Biting his lip, he tears himself away from the curtains, head swiveling around as it burns into it the gritty, artistic posters adorning the wall. There are some cutouts that have been framed right above a rather old looking dresser, commending words and flattery from newspapers all talking about the club, the name Cleopatra's shining in large bold letters for the common eye to catch immediately. Hyunjin reads a few of the reviews, an unusual sensation nudging against his ribcage. Sometimes he forgets that Jinyoung is more than just a sturdy bearer of cocaine and carnal desires, someone important, a businessman.

For a second he wonders what it would be like, waking up in such splendor and grainy sensations of greatness every day, feet treading lightly against exotic hardwood, fingers skimming across marble countertops, body lavished and bathed in expensive, foreign soaps night after night, the gleaming lights of a sleepless city like specks of a starry horizon right in front of you.

Hyunjin frowns, turning his attention back to some of the posters, their careful craft and sophisticated design like a strange, off-putting color in the midst of dark, withering balanced hues. Hyunjin doesn't know much about Jinyoung, he realizes, doesn't really know much about any of the people in his life. Minho, Felix. Changbin.

Yet he knows, knows without really ever questioning how, knows like the simple pathways he crushes beneath his heels day after day, that Jinyoung was born from salt and earth, muddied crooks and bloodied knuckles, from restless agitation of survival, of getting through the night, of ending up on top. Not from this, designer glass and flattened silk. In a way he sees himself in him. Just a bit, a tiny sliver of the same crater-dented skin trying to smoothen its way to something gleaming.

Hyunjin frowns, unsure really, what he's supposed to do with such a revelation and it certainly doesn't help calm the brewing nerves swirling around his gut when Jinyoung returns moments later with a small tray embellished with scattered drops of refinement, grapes, olives, finely-cut slices of meats, an assortment of different cheeses and crackers he's never seen before.

There's even a small bowl filled with almonds on the side, and tiny slices of bread. Hyunjin stares down in bewilderment, accepting the tray gingerly as Jinyoung clicks his tongue. "Eat."

Hyunjin only peers up at him as he sits back down on the bed, miniscule pout making his lips droop just slightly. "So bossy, God."

"Eat," Jinyoung quips, tone firm and still scattered with just barely noticeable hints of distress. "Now."

Hyunjin obliges wordlessly, shooting him a look he hopes can convey what his mind won't - thank you, fuck off, what the hell is going on? Jinyoung only gives him a strange smile before sitting down next to him, peering at him curiously as he nibbles concentratedly on a cracker.

"Good?" He asks, and Hyunjin nods, ripping off a bite of cheese as he bites into it gently. "Try the prosciutto, you'll like it."

Hyunjin grimaces, scanning the array of food in confusion before looking up at Jinyoung. He feels outstandingly young all of the sudden. Unsophisticated and plain. "Which one is that?"

Jinyoung only looks at him fondly, pointing at some of the thin slices of meats. Hyunjin tries it slowly, stomach churning as he avoids looking at anything else but the tray. It's good sure, salty and delicious and yet he feels strangely ill all of the sudden. He swallows the feeling, tearing off a piece of the bread and chewing on it concentratedly.

"Feel better?" Jinyoung asks him after a while. Hyunjin nods, glancing at him briefly before looking away once more. The nausea only doubles the longer he sits there, legs drawn to his chest, tray balancing upon his knees, nimble fingers reaching for bite after bite not really knowing why.

Jinyoung seems to somehow understand a certain extent of his hesitancy, opting instead to talk about other things, things with grittier, more sullied roots to feast upon - the club mostly, new routines, strange potential investors he can't really seem to decipher. Hyunjin doesn't know why he's indulging all this information to him of all people, mind not really equipped to produce anything but salacious, captivating spells to cast under flickering stage lights but he appreciates the change in pace anyway, leaning in to it as he nods instinctively.

"Oh, that reminds me." Jinyoung turns to him suddenly, enthusiastic grin fleeting across his face. Hyunjin puts his tray down, eyebrow raised in anticipation. "There's going to be a release party for the magazine this weekend. They're renting one of the art galleries at the Bellagio."

"I'm invited?" Hyunjin points at himself dumbly.

"You're on the cover," Jinyoung laughs, eyeing him curiously. "Of course you're invited. We're all invited."

"Who's 'we'?" Hyunjin looks at him skeptically, stomach twisting uncomfortably. He already knows the answer.

"You, me, Felix and Minho." A pause, then slowly, as if afraid of the reaction it might produce, "and I'm bringing Changbin. Just in case."

Hyunjin nods, gut oddly numb as he stares up at Jinyoung. "You still don't trust me?"

Jinyoung doesn't answer his question, eyes flickering quickly to his neck and back up again. It's enough for Hyunjin to understand that no, he doesn't.

Jinyoung presses on further with more details, stuffing his head to the brim with information he already knows will come withering out the other end but Hyunjin accepts it all with a passive, taut smile plastered on his face, the urge to go scurrying back to the walls he calls his own growing stronger and stronger the longer he feels the imprints of his sullied, sticky clothes cling against his skin.

Eventually Hyunjin succumbs to his screaming mind, bidding a strange goodbye after thanking him for the drink and the food. Jinyoung only looks at him inquisitively as he leaves, eyebrows furrowed slightly as if wanting to ask him what's wrong. In the end he says nothing, or perhaps Hyunjin doesn't let him, the unreflective sheen of matted colors too vivid in his own eyes for Jinyoung to try and break them free.

Jinyoung gives him but a small, deep-rooted smile as if hoping for it to convey all of that which words cannot, at least not to such deaf, clover-stuffed ears as his own. A foolish wish really, Hyunjin thinks, as he quickly turns on his heels to head back to scalding drops of water, his eyes just as sightless as his hearing is strangled.

 

-

 

Hyunjin doesn't know what to expect really, never having been to events important enough to have rented an entire art gallery to indulge in - well, there had been the launch party for when Cleopatra's opened and yet it had seemed so small back then, the four of them toasting mindlessly in the back of some club toward dreams not particularly unclouded just quite yet. Not for him at least anyway, though somehow he imagines that Jinyoung had been more than ready and determined for the bounds of glittery success that followed.

This, Hyunjin thinks, as he steps out of the ride graciously having been ordered just for him and makes his way into the private event, is something else entirely, large expanses of finely cut marble and low, gleaming lights like cream-colored veils of ivory dancing upon the walls, crystalline and elegant.

The gallery is littered with well-dressed people, drops of large paintings and robust, intricately woven statues like a field of things he dares not touch through the faint thrum of contemporary jazz music, the place clearly having been set up and re-touched for this specific event.

Hyunjin spots tall round tables scattered around everywhere, champagne glasses ready for the taking as pleasant chatters fill up the space. He slinks his way in gracefully, determined not to let his curious eyes wander around in intrigue, small and ignorant to such culture unbound from shadows.

His stomach twists uncomfortably, but he quenches the feeling to pulp as he notices several eyes beginning to linger upon him, watchful, curious. Hyunjin smirks, spotting all three of his fellow Egyptian beetles hanging around a table, the editor in chief talking animatedly to a very pleased looking Jinyoung.

He makes his way over quietly, Jinyoung's eyes flickering to meet his as if sensing his presence, scanning him quickly up and down before breaking into a grin. The pepper-haired man beats him to it, shuffling his way forward as he claps his hands together excitedly.

"Hyunjin!" He exclaims, momentarily placing both of his hands on his shoulders as if to greet him before hurriedly gesturing him over to join them. "Welcome, welcome!"

Slightly bewildered, Hyunjin accepts the thin glass of champagne offered his way immediately, snaking his way next to Jinyoung, who leans in to his ear slightly, voice low as it fans across his neck. "You look good." Hyunjin bites back a grin, of course he does, his black two-piece suit shining and rippling through illusions of water as if woven entirely of satin, structured and graceful against his body, hair wet and in delicate strands across his face.

Minho rolls his eyes from across the table, expression once again of an exhausted indifference. Hyunjin ignores him, turning to Felix instead, who beams at him eagerly, immediately going on a rampage about how beautiful the venue is.

Hyunjin nods along passively, not really following the slopes of the conversation as it continues to curve, the grip around his champagne glass tight as he takes sips with far too much frequency between them. He twists his neck around multiple times, unsure really, what he longs to burn into his mind and yet he finds himself doing it almost ritually, each ticking second like another kernel of nerves winding up in his stomach.

It isn't until Minho gives him an unnerving, slightly tilted look that he stops, the ghost of a mocking smirk threatening to spill across his lips. "Looking for someone?"

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, grasp on his champagne glass tightening substantially. He's far too sober to deal with Minho. "No."

Minho says nothing, eyes glinting with something malicious no doubt as he downs his own glass of champagne and pointedly starts looking for another. Hyunjin wants to scoff, the sound withering in his throat the second he sees Felix break into a bright grin, gaze fixated pointedly on something behind him.

Or someone, really, he should have seen it coming. His gut clenches, presence like a spine-tingling shadow he never seems to get rid of. "Changbin, hey," Felix smiles, his bodyguard making his way to their little table, returning Felix's smile as he settles next to him.

Hyunjin glances at him briefly before diverting his attention back to whatever mind-numbing conversation Jinyoung and the editor seem to be having, the pearly liquid in his glass empty of all the sudden. He frowns, tongue flitting across his lips almost yearningly, thirsty and aching for the peachy flavor once again.

Though his eyes stay almost painstakingly plastered upon an energetic Jinyoung talking in heaps and bounds about God knows what, the words filter through one ear and dismally out the other. Instead his head thuds painfully, the sound of Felix and Changbin having their own conversation right next to him like grating, horrid scratches of nails against a chalkboard.

His gaze quickly scans for Minho in some futile hope of perhaps having garnered their table another tray filled with champagne, only to find that, as slippery and unreliable as he is, Minho was suddenly not there.

"I hope I wasn't too late," Changbin says, Felix insisting that no, they hadn't even really started yet. Jinyoung and the editor in chief start laughing suddenly, Hyunjin imitating them despite having no idea what's apparently so funny, his head on the brink of exploding. "Jia didn't want me to go."

Fuck, there's way too much noise in here, his mind thrums in dull, muted waves of a well-nurtured agony.

"She's been really upset with me lately. Says I work too much during the nights." He can hear Felix almost wistfully sigh in response, can imagine like clear cut molds of clay how his eyes turn big and willowy, lips pouting in sympathy as he contemplates whether or not to start stroking his arm in comfort. Hyunjin's jaw clenches.

"Kids don't really understand how much their parents sacrifice at such a young age. I know it's hard, but don't feel bad."

"I know," Changbin says, tone downturned and heavy, weighted no doubt by an unbearable force threatening to spill over. "It's just that...she deserves better. I wish I could be there for her always-"

"What do you think Hyunjin?" Neck tilting up in poorly-concealed surprise, Hyunjin blinks owlishly at the two sets of eyes staring at him expectantly, mind ripped harshly away from other, far too trivial voices at the sound of his name.

"Um, what?" He asks, discomposed and slightly flustered, his stomach wringing itself as if cramped and lodged with something too foul to digest.

Jinyoung shoots him a slightly concerned look as if already imagining the myriad of reasons for his pretty little head to be far, far away from the ground, none of them even grazing on the edge of positive. Thankfully the editor in chief only chuckles, seeming to think his puzzlement is more endearing than anything.

"I was thinking of revealing the magazine now." He smiles, the corners of his lips stretching keenly as if excited just talking about it. "You see that curtain-covered wall over there?" Hyunjin follows his finger as he points, what almost looks like the largest canvas he's ever seen seemingly erected out of the ground by one of the few expanses of plywood bare from frame-bound paint, veiled mysteriously indeed by a large black sheath of fabric.

He nods, diverting his attention back to the grinning man, his eyes alight with vigor. "Each page has been framed and hung exactly as they're being printed. I was asking if you would like to accompany me for the big reveal? Seeing as you are the cover star."

"Oh," Hyunjin says and then quickly, because he's acting like a fucking idiot for no reason, grins back playfully, hopeful that his eyes glint with enough enthusiasm the way he wants them to. "Of course."

He follows the editor quickly after that, slinking his way over toward the canvas as people's eyes begin to follow them, the loud whirring of chatter dwindling into quietly intrigued whispers instead, air suddenly tense and buzzing as it becomes clear they're about to divulge themselves into the entire reason for such a grand event.

The editor in chief is handed a microphone, silence settling itself in rattling waves across the venue, everyone's attention plastered politely upon the two of them. Even as the man begins to speak, introducing himself and explaining the concept with ridiculous gestures of flare, Hyunjin notices that most eyes keep landing back onto him like flies astray and in search of a flickering light to attach themselves to.

He keeps his face poised and alluringly molded as always, used to be watched yes, he lets his watchers engrave his body into their minds night after night and yet it's nothing like this, bare and bright in the lack of inky mist, no one to lure, no to seduce.

His stomach squeezes unnervingly, mouth dry and aching as saliva pools continuously, tongue desperate to replace it with pearly drops of slithering champagne. He swallows harshly, lips etching into a grin as the editor introduces him, praising him for his hard work and creative mind, his torso bowing slightly back as if thanking him, the words ringing painfully against his ear.

Suddenly the curtain comes undone behind them as quiet gasps and curious murmurs filter all around, people gathering over to look at the photos in earnest. Thankful that the attention is no longer on him - well, the real, frameless him - Hyunjin quickly snatches a glass of champagne from a waiter passing by, the taste wondrous and bound with kernels of relief as he downs it eagerly.

It isn't until he's half-way through his glass that his attention finally diverts itself upon the photo covered wall, strangers coming by to compliment him, a few poorly-concealed lustful looks shot his way.

Hyunjin laps them all up gratefully, his head returning back to the light-hearted, floating feeling he'd been aching for so badly. Eventually he loses count of everyone he interacts with, Jinyoung, the editor, Felix, wide smiles he can't tell whether have been carved from sincerity or not passing through his mind like spinning, broken carousels.

Still, something scratches irritatingly in the back of his throat, hot flashes of tainted, unholy memories springing back to horrid, wretched life once more. Hyunjin spots Changbin lingering quietly in the corner, eyes gazing at the photos with an indecipherable expression.

Hyunjin turns back to look at them, the simplistic rawness of canyon-marred beauty - gravelly, sunstroked invitations of sacrilegious, rotten fantasies flourishing freely away from honor and principles, a new battered religion to pray to, on your knees and desperate, yearning, selfish daydreams of finally tasting the salty sweetness of the holy land upon your tongue.

People point at the photos in admiration, bodies draped in extravagant, gold-threaded fabrics, the women polished and spotless, men clean-cut and well-postured, expensive watches glimmering beneath the lights. Pearly earrings shining through the room. Hyunjin looks around the venue once more, his gut souring instantly. Marble. Chandeliers. Paintings by artists he can't pronounce. He frowns, eyes flitting back to the canvas.

The Hyunjin from those photos would not be invited to such an event.

His chest bristles at the thought, how familiar and deeply woven every pose he'd taken had seemed back then, simple, earth-bound replications of silhouettes he'd left scattered across the desert fields years and years ago. All of the sudden the satin-like fabric feels itchy against his skin, ill-fit and far too shiny for the dull, mousy skin buried within it.

His gaze flickers back to Changbin once more, unsure really of what he's hoping to discover, the bitter taste of regret burrowing into him the second it finds him and lands. There, leaning against the wall with a lopsided smile plastered to his face, stands Felix, pretty and iridescent as always, his head tilted to the side, eyes politely trained upon Changbin's.

Changbin leans in to say something then and Felix's nose scrunches up as he laughs, and Hyunjin thinks his grip has never been this tight around the thin handle of his champagne glass, knuckles white and sweaty as his stomach twists itself into a revolting, acrid taste.

Tearing his gaze away, Hyunjin searches frantically for another waiter, snatching his third glass with a swiftness far too agile for the lightheadedness beginning to circle all around him, throat burning as he starts to drink.

Then, like the horrid urge to fall back upon excruciating ripples of self-inflicting pain, his eyes land back to their gruesome spot, dancing, brewing, overflowing with something he isn't sure how to quench in the midst of such bright, disclosing lights. For a second he thinks he can feel it, addicting, muddied imprints of skin against his beneath a moonless night, hard yet gentle to the touch, over and over and over again-

"The photos turned out good, don't you think?" Hyunjin whips his head around immediately, illusions of foolishness withering into crumpled remnants of dust left to dirty the underside of his heel. Minho stares at him amusedly, eyes glinting maliciously as Hyunjin can but glare sharply in return, chest pulsating in vicious, bone-rattling beats.

Undeterred by his blatant distaste as always, Minho merely continues, tone light and airy as if warped in feigned friendliness. "My favorite is the one where you're bending over the soda cooler. Not your first time playing the trailer park slut, huh?"

"What do you want?" Hyunjin grits, vision tunneling into something disheveled and tinted in blinding, reddened pinpricks.

Minho only raises an eyebrow in response, as if such hostile reactions were simply beyond him. Hyunjin wants to punch him in the face. "Wow, angry already. I wonder why."

His eyes narrow into sharpened slits, tongue dry and flaky as it settles itself heavily into the crooks of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

Minho laughs then, a short yet expanding laugh as he shakes his head in disbelief, lips falling into their rightful place, perpetually cruel smirk engraved into his facial muscles as if unable to form themselves unbound by spite. "You're extremely obvious you know. Mad that any man without insane mental issues would choose Felix over you?"

He shoots a quick glance over toward the corner of the room - that cursed resting place of his blasphemous eyes - before turning back to grin at him. Hyunjin's blood runs cold, jaw clicking painfully. Then, as if suddenly struck by an important thought, Minho leans in, mocking smile fanning across his face. "Outside of the bedroom of course. I'm sure you know your way around there."

"That's funny coming from you," Hyunjin sneers, the brittleness of his own skin like a scalding wound left untended for far too long. He wants to peel it off - off, off, off! "Weren't you raised as a literal prostitute?"

"And you weren't? You sure act like you were." Minho raises an eyebrow at him dubiously, taking a large sip from his own champagne glass as if his tongue did not burn in the slightest from letting themselves cultivate such monstrosities, words of wicked, nefarious sins honed by the mere wielding of heartlessness and saliva. Hyunjin thinks he can hear his own ears ringing by now.

"Anyway, just thought I'd come by and tell you. You know, in case you weren't already thinking it."

"What the fuck is your problem?" Hyunjin spits, ugly, deformed molds of something rotten begging to stir in the back of his mind. He swallows the urge to retch, painful reminders of where he is forcing themselves through his brain. "You know if anyone's obvious about anything, it's you. Your jealousy reeks."

Minho only seems amused at that, glinting smile looming beneath the guise of indifference. "I think it's funny you think I'm jealous."

He turns his torso away slightly, neck tilting to the side as if having completed his daily douse of torturing him by now, ready and depraved to start pouring into other well-lit corners the tattered seams of his own shadows, and then, because of fucking course he does, he gestures his head just slightly toward Changbin, malicious grin unfurling itself once more.

"Good luck with your little man over there." He pauses, as if to correct himself, laughing as he does so. "Or should I say, men. You really know how to pick them. One who's a father and one actually old enough to be yours."

Hyunjin only stares back in bulging, indignant shock as his mouth drops open, the pits of his stomach flooding in vicious sheets of steely, freezing ice, Minho stalking away satisfied before he gets the chance to answer.

Blood thumping brutally through his veins, he downs the rest of his champagne glass in one go, feet winding through the crowd before spotting another, the taste oddly numb of gratification as he continues to let it slither down his throat. He isn't sure really, how many glasses he ends up drinking, the thought seeming too insignificant and silly to even divulge into, not when his gut keeps twisting so, slipping and tying itself into tight, choking knots he's never learned how to undo.

Eventually he finds himself leaning breathlessly against the wall, head swimming as a faint, floating sensation starts to coil within him. He thinks he remembers Jinyoung talking to him about something just before, something stupid no doubt, stupid and weird and scattered throughout the edges with silent, flooding apologies, asking if he's okay, stuffing pretentiously named cheeses and slices of meats into his mouth for no fucking reason and it shouldn't enrage him so and yet it does.

It does and it does and it does, doesn't he know doves don't eat such plain, simple things, doesn't he knowthey only stuff their beaks with seeds and sin, stomachs empty and rotted and not to be tainted with?!

His chest flares, eyes prickling with something sharp and vicious as it lands back upon familiar strands of blond, pearly hair. Hyunjin wants to rip them out in chunks, he thinks, flush them down the toilet, perhaps muddy them brown and black and into horrid, horrid remnants of the night with the dirt-soiled underside of his own worn-out boots.

Nobody runs to such graceful, snow-driven bodies once the sun begins its slow, ritual death, nobody crawls and begs, desperate, raw on the blemished soil of their own knees, just a little taste, a little bite, a little beautiful droplet of addicting, unclean blood to satisfy their thirst with.

Sacred flesh is for the forgiving cowardice of day. The lack of sun is for wetness, carnal, intrinsic bellows of pleasure, carved and stolen from corners already contaminated. Hyunjin laughs then, quietly and with bundles of shaky relief, the knots in his stomach untwisting themselves with ease. Felix knows his place. Hyunjin shouldn't forget his own.

With his tongue hot and heavy as it lies plastered to the roof of his mouth, he curves his way over toward the two of them, feet still blissfully unaware of the snake hiding amongst the grass as they continue to chitter in bliss.

It isn't until he's gotten close enough, his head webbed with wispy clutches of chiffon, that they notice his presence, red and rubied as it glimmers through the room. Changbin looks up at him then, the lighthearted ease of his face slipping away immediately, guarded, stony. Hyunjin's stomach swoops.

"Felix." He grins, turning his head to address him, Felix staring back up at him with curious, politely intrigued eyes. God, he wants to rip them right out of their sockets.

"Jinyoung is looking for you," he lies, smiling sweetly as Felix's expression perks up immediately, having completely forgotten where he was.

He gives a kindhearted nod in Changbin's direction before walking off, thanking Hyunjin for letting him know as he tries not to let the insides of his mind sear themselves right off from the sharp influx of muddied memories coursing straight through him once the two of them are left completely alone.

Changbin looks at him curiously, almost as if seeing right through his little lie before turning his head back to stare into the crowd. Hyunjin's chest flares.

"Having a good time?" He asks, leaning in to stand right next to him, neck tilted slightly as he bites his lip. Changbin spares him a quick glance, something fast and too blurry flashing through it before Hyunjin manages to catch it.

"Not really my scene," is all he says, the words quiet and laced with exhaustion. It isn't until now that he truly notices how out of place Changbin seems, a simple white dress shirt and matching black slacks a sharp contrast to the uncomfortable, restrained seams of his expression.

Hyunjin flicks his gaze over to the mingling crowd, spotting Jinyoung and some important looking businessmen chatting together enthusiastically. He looks entirely too pleased, soaking up the attention thrust his way like dense sugar-soaked drops of candy.

"Not mine either," Hyunjin quips, Changbin turning to look at him with an inquisitive, raised eyebrow. He feels a sharp jolt from the sudden eye contact, trying his hardest to smoothen out the rippling crumples of silk unwinding within him.

It's fruitless, really as he lets his stomach drop deliciously. Hyunjin leans in slowly, breath fanning across his neck as he whispers in a low, sensual vividness, "I know a better place."

Before Changbin can say anything, Hyunjin grabs his arm tightly, dragging him through the crowd of people as his eyes scan frantically for the room he's looking for, Changbin following behind dutifully. Hyunjin bites back a smirk as they successfully make their way toward the perfect little cavern, swinging the restroom door open as he stumbles his way inside.

He almost loses his footing, slightly dizzy. Changbin regards him with sudden concern, but Hyunjin steadies himself quickly. It's okay, it's okay. How can he think about any of that really when his stomach burns and burns and burns in a desperate, addicting need to be quenched, his skin hot and sweaty and had it always smelled so good in here?

Hyunjin slams Changbin's back into the wall with clawing, grasping fingers, crashing his lips onto his without a second thought, pushing and pushing and pushing until Changbin eagerly accepts, hands wrapping around his waist as he thrusts his own tongue into his mouth.

Hyunjin moans into the kiss, eyes closing in slithering bliss and from the slight way in which his vision spins, fingers denting themselves into his skin as they slip beneath his shirt, hard, sturdy muscles like sharp rocks to cut himself with.

Hyunjin does so gladly, mind buzzing and dazed and everything's perfect, perfect, perfect, his own lips fluttering away from Changbin's mouth to imprint themselves greedily onto his neck, kissing, sucking, thirsty for something to fill the barrenness of his own tongue.

It isn't until then that he imagines Changbin finally coming to his senses, head tilted back as the bumps upon the restroom ceiling sluggishly blink through his hazed, overcast vision, Hyunjin continuing to kiss along his neck eagerly before weak grips circle themselves around his arms, gently pushing him away.

"Wait, wait," Changbin breathes out, eyes still struggling to rid themselves of sweetly perfumed irrationality. "You're really drunk."

Hyunjin only stares back at him confused, inching his body closer so that it's pressed firmly into his, fingers trailing along the lower side of his stomach. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Changbin insists, eyebrows furrowing slightly as his gaze keeps flickering back down to where his hands are placed. "I could taste it." He looks conflicted, Hyunjin thinks, torn between two opposing forces of desire.

He laughs quietly, leaning in closer as his head swivels giddily. "So?"

"So," Changbin sounds a lot more serious now, voice firm and laced with frustration. Hyunjin leans back slightly, eyes blinking rapidly. "We can't...well whatever this is."

"What?" Hyunjin laughs, his chest constricting painfully all of the sudden. Fuck, he's still thirsty. He loops his arms around Changbin's neck, eyes giving him a puzzled, slightly disoriented look. "You don't want to fuck me?"

Changbin only stares back at him as if absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing as if trying to find the rights words to say. Hyunjin smirks, pressing into him sharply, voice scattered with faint remnants of satisfied titters.

"I know you do," he whispers, leaning to graze his lips against the shell of his ear. He can feel his entire body tensing beneath his touch. "Everybody does."

Changbin grabs his arms sharply then, forcing him back a few steps as Hyunjin stumbles ungracefully, Changbin steadying him quickly by tightening his clutch. "Not here," he says, the words like vicious punctures of serrated blades eager to slice right through him. "Not like this."

Hyunjin scoffs, something distasteful churning gradually through his gut. "What, was last time not good enough for you or something?"

Changbin only looks at him as if unable to comprehend what he's asking, eyes squinting in confusion as he exhales a deep, nerve-rattling sigh. Hyunjin's mind starts to seethe, gleaming memories suddenly dulled and muted, distorted into something ugly.

Changbin gauges his irritation quickly, releasing his grip from his arms as clattering words come tumbling out his mouth, frustrated and urgent. "No, it was amazing-" His gaze flickers quickly down onto the bathroom tiles before rising back up again, boring into him with an almost pleading gleam. "Look, I don't understand what's happening here. You ignore me the entire week and now you want to have sex in a public restroom?"

His head breathes out small, light wisps of something uncatchable, floating above the heavy weight of his mind as it tries to slip away from its own painful clasp. He steps closer just slightly, a buzzing, sweltering sensation eating him up from the insides, teetering somewhere between blackened, sizzling anger and a desire that has his mouth salivating decaying drops of a dying champagne.

Changbin's eyes flit across him as if alarmed, trying desperately to understand what his next move is. Hyunjin laughs quietly, fingers snaking their way against his belt as he bites his lips seductively. "Just let me make you feel good, yeah?"

Hyunjin knows how his watchers can be, playful, greedy, eager for a show and really, how can he deny such simple requests when it's the one edge of something bejeweled and shiny he knows how to do better than anything, his knees hitting the floor in a sensual, catlike drop, hands tugging teasingly along the clasp of delicious leather, tantalizing and well-skilled rendering it bursting at the seams.

"No-" Changbin ushers out hastily, voice laced with panic as he starts to trail his fingers further and further down, smirking as he notices how clearly affected he's becoming.

Changbin rips his hands off of him suddenly, insistent and brewing with small seeds of fury as he stares him down unrelentingly. "Hyunjin, stop it!"

Flinging back up to stand straight, Hyunjin almost wobbles to the side as his vision momentarily blanks, spinning sluggishly still once he blinks it away, his chest rupturing open in one swift, vicious flurry of sharp, reddened claws.

He sneers, face twisting itself wildly as he stares at the man in front of him with fervent disbelief. "What's wrong with you?! I throw myself at you and you say no?!"

Changbin almost does a double take at that, surprise from his sudden outburst dying quickly, eyes ablaze and furious. "Oh, so I'm the asshole here because I don't want to take advantage of you."

Hyunjin laughs then, the sound cold and hollow against his ear. "You know what, I don't need you - I could have anyone here."

Changbin scoffs, the fire in his gaze subsiding slightly, peering into him guarded, bubbling frustration. "Conceited much?"

Hyunjin only tilts his head to the side, smirking as the door swings open all of the sudden, a fine-cut, nicely dressed man strolling in blissfully unaware of the exploding tension unfolding between them. He gives them both polite nods of acknowledgement, his eyes lingering just slightly longer upon the small strip of skin plunging down his own neckline before walking over to the sinks.

Hyunjin leans in toward Changbin quickly, voice low as he whispers through laughter-ridden satisfaction, head dizzier than it had been all night. "Wanna bet?"

"Wait, no-"

Changbin's words fizzle out of his ears as quickly as they come, Hyunjin strolling over toward the sinks as the man finishes drying his hands, stomach vibrating in a tightly-stretched need for unkind skin upon his own.

"Hey, you," he says, though the words definitely come out more slurred than he intends them to, the man staring up at him suddenly, surprised at being addressed. He masks it soon enough, grin replacing itself instead across his face as he eyes him pleasantly.

"You're the cover model, right?"

Hyunjin smirks in confirmation, nodding slightly as he feels his body start to tilt toward the side, his hand quickly planting itself upon the countertop to steady himself. Fuck, since when had it gotten so hot in here?

"You liked the photos?" He asks, grin coy as the man looks him up and down, responding with something he isn't able to grasp, sharp, repulsive feeling jabbing through his stomach all of the sudden. Whatever. Hyunjin waves his hand as if to silence the room, the whirring in his head only doubling in speed.

"You'd fuck me, right?" The man blinks at him owlishly. Hyunjin swallows the urge to laugh. "I mean, if you had the chance."

Slowly, tentatively, almost as if afraid of his answer being the subject to some ridiculous, humiliating test, he nods, eyes squinting at him in confusion. Hyunjin grins, shooting a look behind him in Changbin's direction, his mouth open and confounded, forehead creased in indignation.

Hyunjin turns his gaze back to the man, a swell of nausea suddenly bursting through his stomach. He ignores it, only inches his way closer, flashing him a grin. "Well this is your lucky day then-"

"Okay, enough." The steely voice of someone he'd rather not remember only cuts him off, Changbin walking briskly toward them as he grips his hand around his arm.

Hyunjin shakes it off, the motion making him stumble somewhat as his vision swivels around, turning his body back toward his very much perplexed, slightly intrigued victim. "I'll suck you off in the stall-"

"Hyunjin, stop it," Changbin grits out, the words harsh and firm as Hyunjin all but ignores them, intention focused solely upon the very much conflicted man in front of him.

He thinks he looks slightly more scared of the situation than aroused. Hyunjin's stomach grumbles in annoyance. It's all his stupid, incessantly difficult to understand, plague of a bodyguard's fault.

"C'mon," he murmurs sweetly, hands dragging themselves sensually down the stranger's chest, his eyes following the gentle whisper of his lips hypnotized. "Those photos were just a preview, you know-"

"Okay, you-" Hyunjin feels himself suddenly pushed away as Changbin weasels his way between them, finger pointing viciously at the poor man's face, his expression paling by the second. "Get out."

The stranger doesn't need to be told twice apparently, eyes wide as they flicker back and forth between the two of them, forehead creased in confusion as he stumbles his way out the door. Hyunjin stares at his retreating figure with a heaving, sickening sensation gurgling its way up his stomach, gut clenching as his eyes squeeze tightly shut from the pain.

White, blurry pinpricks scatter themselves throughout his vision, reprimanding words too indented with ridges for him to understand filtering through one ear and out the next, torso keeling over as a sudden wave of nausea pummels through him.

Hyunjin is hardly able to grasp anything between the coiling clenches of his stomach and the protruding pounding in his head as he vomits disgustingly into the toilet bowl, chest gasping as the discomfort overcomes him.

He thinks he can vaguely register someone holding back his hair, gently, calmly, firm hands pressed soothingly against the skin of his lower back and yet the realization only makes him heave even harder, his guts spilling out every last remnant of bug-infested champagne he carries.

He gags one last time, body slumping exhaustedly against the wall as he stares up at the ceiling, the revolting, all too familiar reminder of his sullied blood coursing through him in painful waves with the steady return of sobriety.

Changbin hands him something then, slightly wettened strips of paper towels, body hunched to level with him. Avoiding looking him in the eyes, Hyunjin accepts the paper gratefully, wiping his mouth off with a feverish determination, the need to go running home to his shower overwhelming him almost agonizingly.

Changbin stands back up again, stretching out his hand as if to offer it. Staring at it cautiously, Hyunjin grabs onto it after a few, ticking seconds, hoisting himself back up onto wobbly, unfeeling legs. He's tired, he thinks. So, so tired. And yet- what time is it? he asks through shaky, unsteady exhales.

Almost midnight, he responds, searching desperately through his face for something Hyunjin knows he won't find - three hours till sleep, three more hours, one, two, three, pluck, pluck, plucking the leaves of his clover until it becomes barren and abandoned in a vastness where nothing grows.

Do you want me to take you home? Hyunjin nods, neck inclining downward as if pummeling into the tiles head-first, unsure, numb, buzzing all at once, numbers flashing wearily through his mind.

He doesn't know how he makes it outside, Changbin telling Jinyoung words that only convey the first, lukewarm waters of truth. He's sick. Doesn't feel well. Changbin doesn't know, doesn't know how sick he truly feels, mouth tumbling in echoes of his illness-speckled veins.

The city lights are beautiful from the sidewalk, glimmering, all-knowing secrets that whisper beneath a sunless, pitch-dark night. He doesn't feel so sick then.

Ever been on a motorcycle before? Yes, he has, feeble reminders that he knows nothing, nothing, nothing about the man whose face dances beneath the midnight-bound shadows in front of him. Night after night. Real? Or just a dream?

Here, take my helmet. Hyunjin shakes his head, no, no. Changbin sighs. Someone gives in. He isn't quite sure who.

Las Vegas roads are a lot more captivating than he'd painted them out to be in his mind, curving and looping through exhilarating, flashing colors too vivid, too rich for his desert fielded eyes to follow. His arms clutch onto the torso in front of him, tightly. Desperately, even. Hyunjin blames the wind, sharp and gutted against his face.

He likes it, he thinks, though he isn't quite sure, the cutting speed rendering him breathless in anticipation as if waiting for something. Something, something, he doesn't know what. The tires screech as they come to a sudden stop. Hyunjin feels heavy as soon as he steps back onto the ground. The colors are bleaker now, than he'd thought. Real?

Good night. There's a word missing right after. Hyunjin feels it. Changbin feels it, he knows he does, his eyes difficult to understand from the lifted slit of the visor. Hyunjin understands, pretends he doesn't.

His fingers itch for something the minute he steps back inside. Something to break maybe? Something to hold? He still has three hours left. One, two, three, each number leaden against his tongue, heavy through the air. He misses the feeling of weightlessness.

Notes:

i need to see changbin on a motorcycle so badly bye

also i’ll be doing a double update today for someone very special’s birthday 🤭 i hope you enjoy

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 7: Bellyache

It's cabaret night in only a few short days, the one meticulously planned week a year where Cleopatra bleeds itself dry of golden, crumbled imprints of Egyptian splendor, pouring into itself instead the lighthearted seduction of showmanship, white, plumed feathers, cascading pearls of ivory - the tantalizing antiquity of a French-embroidered temptation.

Jinyoung had made them all take burlesque classes years ago, head far too filled with ideas of artistry and grand endeavors of luminescent greatness for the mere simplicity of disrobement.

Hyunjin remembers his words well and clear from the first time they'd spoken - him, the Dove, gritty and spangled in shadowed allure, performing night after night beneath broken, downcast stage lights and the seedy smell of cigars and disgrace.

Jinyoung, a stranger, mysterious, bearing eyes that burned but never scalded, coming and going like a flame to a moth, curious, intrigued as he watched him. Hyunjin had watched him too, elaborate speculations of his lack of words and inconsistent visits swirling throughout his head as he waited in the darkness for the breathless embrace of sleep.

Then, as if nothing more needed to be said, like a simple, religious utterance of truth, he'd spoken - calmly, self-evident. A bird like you deserves a better cage to perform in, don't you think?

He hadn't replied, worn-out hardwood, muffled by smoke, watchers to entertain - what more was there?

You're magnificent, radiant. Not like the rest. Oh yes, Hyunjin knew he was better than the others, had always been better than the others, like this. Flesh upon a silver platter for the taking.

I could make you a star. He'd heard that one before, rushed out mumbles of half-hearted lies, greedy lips spewing anything for the chance to tear him apart. And yet, this time, Hyunjin believed him, determined eyes and self-assurance like a strip of land untrodden by his aching, bumbling feet.

I can see it in you. You want more than this, am I wrong? Hyunjin shakes his head, no, no he isn't.

You don't dance for the money, or to amuse them, do you? Unnerved, he shakes his head. Well, a little for the money too. Jinyoung laughs at that, eyes glinting with something he wants to plunge right into. I knew it.

Hyunjin strips himself dreamily for the enclosing walls of his dressing room, echoes of a time he'd nearly forgotten unwinding through the night. When they're watching you, you like it not because you know they think you're beautiful, or want to fuck you.

He changes slowly, pulling on his yoga pants and sweater, limbs tired and aching after yet another grueling satisfaction upon stage. He closes his eyes sluggishly, head exhausted against the wall. You like it cause you know you're committing murder right then and there.

Heavy, strenuous exhales like intoxication through his chest, and yet he's sober. Sober and dense. You're in it for the kill, am I right?

He'd nodded then, yes. Hyunjin liked the taste of blood. Jinyoung had smirked, gratified, triumphant in finding someone like himself. Good. Because I know a city with thousands of people begging to die.

He certainly had, Hyunjin thinks, pushing himself back up from the wall in search for his gym bag, the outfits for next week glittering quietly upon a rack in the corner of his eye, black laced lingerie, knee-high stockings with garters, delicate wispy feathers in different colors all neatly lined up. Ready, Moulin Rouged and dazzling for the taking.

He makes his way quietly down the staircase with a leaden sort of nervousness thrumming through him, fingers clenching tightly upon the strap of his bag as he pushes the backdoor open, loud, scuttling noises of humanity and vice flooding the familiar veins of the Strip.

Hyunjin takes a second to look around, the urge to reach for a cigarette strong in the clasp of his aching fingers. The memories from the night before creep in on him once again, slowly, tauntingly as if mulling them over in the droning hours of day had not been enough.

He stares down the tunneling street before him, legs infused to the sidewalk as he avoids any feeble attempts his mind produces at making them move. Changbin had avoided looking at him for most of the shift, or at least Hyunjin imagines he had. He too, had diverted his gaze, keeping it intently upon his watchers instead.

Still, the feeling leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, his gut gnawing at him incessantly from the insides. For what he doesn't know, murky urges too disfigured for Hyunjin to fully discern.

Then, suddenly, the backdoor swings open once again, familiar frame of someone he's long since engraved into his mind closing it gently as he steps out, body halting once it realizes the sidewalk is anything but empty. Changbin gives him a taut, all too strained smile as if acknowledging him.

Hyunjin doesn't smile back, staring instead, stomach churning uncomfortably, waiting, waiting, waiting - for what? For what, for what? He swallows, turning his head to the side as his eyes bore into the diluted pathway in front of him, legs refusing to move, still.

He hears a soft, almost barely audible exhale behind him, an unfurling anticipation of the unknown releasing itself unwillingly into the simple act of breathing. It sounds...disappointed, almost? His stomach clenches, no, no, that can't be right. Frustrated?

Hyunjin snaps his neck back up again, Changbin's back to him now as he's started to walk in the opposite direction of his own rumbling avenue, his throat itching as he speaks, something sharp and gutted lodged in his mouth. "Wait."

Changbin stills for a second, turning around slowly as he looks at him blankly, face unfeeling and intricate all at the same time. His legs seem to have regained some of their feeling, feet treading quietly toward his bodyguard as he waits for him patiently.

Hyunjin stops once his heart begins to pound so viciously it scratches him from the inside, enough inches between them for him to suddenly turn away and run should he want to.

Changbin only stares at him as if predicting in his mind all the downfallen turns and words of sullied grit that might thrust their way straight into his gut, wrap their pretty hands around his throat, eager, thirsty to strangle. Hyunjin bites his lip, apprehension bristling through him in waves.

His tongue feels heavy as it speaks, dry and rough as it scrapes the roof of his mouth in continuous quivers. "I'm sorry," he says, eyes unblinking and pooling with what he hopes is enough sentiment for his sincerity to shine through. "For yesterday."

Changbin nods, slowly, gratefully as if taking him in entirely through roads previously undiscovered, the lines carved upon his face much deeper, much more grave than Hyunjin could remember them being.

"Thank you for..." His words caress his lips in salty ripples that sting as they stumble through. "Helping me." Gnawing on them slightly, Hyunjin looks to side once again, shaking his head in quiet disbelief, nose scrunching up in aversion as his eyes land back upon ones ready and unwavering for a glimpse of his own.

"I can't believe you watched me throw up." A small bundle of laughter scatters through him then. It sounds nervous, toothed around the edges. "So disgusting."

Changbin's eyes flicker downward for a tiny strip of a shared, unguarded second, gaze slightly more hesitant than before. "It wasn't disgusting, I...you were just drunk." A pause. Small trembles of the pupils. A dip, just barely, into his own waters, and then. "That's all."

"Yeah..." Hyunjin thinks it's become strangely arduous to breathe all of the sudden, teeth still gnawing quietly on his lips. He blames the exhaust of the city. "And for the ride."

Changbin smiles then, gently, violently. Hyunjin feels it pummel through him with the force of a white bloodied knuckle. Sucker-punched, head-spun. "Any time."

Hyunjin knows that when moments of sobriety befall him, he is a calculated, meticulously thought out thinker, spontaneity and impulsiveness only sweet recipes for disaster, gems he does not allow himself to touch unless blessed with the weightlessness of soft, intoxicating Blue Clipper wings.

And yet now, free from the imprints of fluttering, limelight-born creatures, he falls into his own honeydew trap, thoughtless and insatiable. "I'm not...now though." His feet inch closer just slightly, Changbin following the sound of his lips as he speaks like a lifeline. Hyunjin peers into him, earnest, unafraid, eyes swimming with diffused promises of temptation. "Drunk, I mean."

Changbin swallows, tentative to believe such addicting illusions. And then, as if slowly invigorated by a buzzing, teasing self-assurance he tilts his head to the side, smirk flitting across his face, playful and provoking. "Are you asking for a do-over?"

Hyunjin sharpens his gaze into a light-hearted glare, heart thrumming against his ribcage. "Will there be any bullfrogs for me waiting in the morning?"

"No." Changbin laughs and then as if remembering the flooding horror that had occurred, stresses urgently, head shaking in confidence. "No amphibians of any kind. I promise."

A small, poorly-restrained grin darts its way across his lips, the lead in his feet infused right back into the sidewalk, heels whirring and eager to tread. "Then maybe I am."

Changbin flits his head back as if gesturing toward the direction of his apartment, an extending grin unfurling itself in contentment as he turns back to look at him. "I uh, I usually walk home. It isn't far. Ten minutes or so."

Hyunjin bites his lip, heels rocking slightly back in forth in jittery anticipation. "I don't mind walking."

Changbin smiles at him then, taking the lead as they start strolling through the large expanse of the pavement that winds itself down the Strip, Hyunjin right next to him in a poorly feigned calmness, eyes flickering around everywhere, eager, desperate almost for something to distract him with.

It isn't particularly difficult, the blinding lights and fluorescent glimmers of casinos and showgirls bustling all around, a shiny beacon of entertainment amongst the barren, boundless desert around them. They walk in silence for a few minutes, the sound of cars and human bustling filling the electric current billowing between each other, tense and volcanic as they take a sharp turn into a smaller, quieter avenue, the swarming noise falling into a diluted deception of silence.

Changbin keeps taking small, inconspicuous glances his way. Hyunjin pretends not to notice. Still his chest keeps throbbing in steady, perfumed creases.

"You're not tired?" Changbin asks then, the sidewalk becoming increasingly less scattered with people milling about. He shakes his head quietly, as if amazed. "I can't imagine how you wouldn't be with this job...I'd pass out straightaway if I were you."

Hyunjin bites back a smirk, craning his neck to find Changbin already looking at him. A small, teasing smile flickers across his face. "As you may have noticed, I have incredible stamina. One of my many talents."

Changbin grins, letting out a short breath of laughter. "Do I wanna know what the others are?"

Hyunjin gives him a look then, a feigned sense of indifference glinting with just enough playfulness pooling in his eyes. "Mm, do you want me to list the positions?"

Changbin's eyes widen slightly, gaze scanning him up and down in what he can only assume to be a mixture of perplexity and astonishment.

Hyunjin tries not to laugh as Changbin stares back up onto the road before them, expression contorting into something painful, imagining no doubt the droning, torturous minutes still laid out before them. "Fuck. I really should've taken my bike today."

He does, as it turns out, laugh at that, Changbin's eyes flickering back to him and lighting up as if having discovered something deeply treasured and long in the searching. The words tumble out of his lips as if automatic. "You have a really pretty laugh."

Hyunjin snorts, picking up his pace slightly, the flames in his gut beginning to scald. "Gag. What a line."

"What?" Changbin stares at him in earnest as Hyunjin walks past him, voice insistent and devout as he tries to catch up. "I'm being serious."

Hyunjin only turns around to face him, taking small yet brisk steps backward as he tilts his head. "Walk faster, will you?"

"Tsk." Changbin shakes his head in faux disappointment. "So impatient."

"Being horny will do that to me." He smirks, turning back around again and this time, Changbin heeds into his wishes like a puppet on a string, jogging slightly to catch back up to him, voice low as it fans across his neck. "I think you just like me chasing after you. No way you usually walk this fast."

Hyunjin turns to look at him then, eyes sharp yet teasing. "Are you complaining about the view?"

"I would never," Changbin stresses, as if taking his question entirely too serious. Hyunjin suppresses the urge to smile, keeping his head adamantly trained upon the streetlights in front of him.

Changbin seems satisfied even when walking in silence, Hyunjin's stomach twisting and curving in flutters once they stop by a familiar apartment complex, Changbin leading the way inside as Hyunjin follows suit.

The elevator ride is strangely dissimilar to the one before, the two of them on the opposite sides of the walls, hands firmly kept to their own sides as Changbin makes a show of pretending not to look at him. Hyunjin refuses to laugh, but a stupid smile still etches its way across his face anyway.

The air becomes tense as soon as they step out, heading toward the correct door with a buzzing, sharp energy that swelters. Oddly enough Hyunjin finds it anything but awkward, instead his gut swoops in exhilaration the moment they step inside, gnawing in an impatience on the brink of bursting.

He sets down his gym bag carefully as Changbin takes off his jacket, uniform as always too snug and tight and far too generous with its exposure of strong, ink-tattered muscles. Hyunjin thinks his mouth might be watering right then and there and he knows he's greedy, has always been greedy and so what more is there to do than succumb to his own gravelly, sin-stained nature?

His hands burn as they wrap themselves around Changbin's arms, just as sturdy and hard as he'd remembered and he pushes, pushes, pushes until he's up against the wall, neck leaning in to slot his mouth against ones just as eager to counter back.

Changbin wraps his hands around his waist, leading him further into the living room as his tongue pushes its way into his mouth, only stopping once Hyunjin's back hits the edge of the dining table, breathing heavy as he stares into him. "So, straight to the point then?"

Hyunjin only hums, pulling off his sweater in one swift, graceful movement, Changbin's eyes ablaze with that same cluster of stardust as before, ignited and real, too real, too real. Hyunjin swallows away the nerves scuttling across his skin. "Told you I was impatient."

Changbin grins, taking off his own shirt and it's really all it takes for the thoughts he'd previously harbored to firmly fly out of the window, Hyunjin's hands latching onto his skin immediately, scratching and clawing in delicious, intoxicating hunger. Changbin responds eagerly, kissing him once more as impassioned, fiery fingers tear him apart in all the right ways.

"Fuck me on the table," Hyunjin breathes out through the split second of ragged exhalation allowed by the brief parting of their lips, eyes heavy and hooded as they burn into the man before him.

Changbin's eyes darken substantially, crashing his teeth into his own as he lowers him gently onto the dining table by dipping the small of his back, Hyunjin's stomach coiling salaciously once he notices Changbin taking off his belt.

His own hands flit to his yoga pants immediately, dragging them off as sensually as he can muster from the position he's in, back against the table and thighs aching in the lack of something to wrap themselves around.

Changbin's eyes flutter back to his legs immediately once they're bare and deliciously tanned against the fabric of his baby pink underwear, hands running up and down his thighs as if succumbing to a religious mantra, entire upper body leaning in as his mouth trails soft kisses down his stomach. "So pretty."

It isn't much of a warning for what comes next, Hyunjin thinks, head resting against the table as his heart pounds steadily, Changbin's fingers tugging down his panties in a slow, teasing motion and then, because he can't really do anything but trace the bumps on the ceiling without straining his neck, he can only distinguish the faint movement of Changbin crouching down onto the floor, hands wrapped around his thighs as he spreads them apart and-

"Fuck!" Hyunjin jolts, entire body shuddering as the sudden intrusion of something wet and soft slips into him, legs twitching as he gasps. "What the fuck..."

Changbin's tongue is relentless, as it turns out, and clearly well-skilled, his mouth dropping open with each shaky, high-pitched whine that spills from his throat, eyes starry as they continue to flutter to the back of his head.

For a second Hyunjin thinks he could die happily like this, trembling and writhing from godless worship, bury himself into the sand with a chest unloosened at the seams and yet his chest strings itself up slowly despite the pleasure coursing through him, hard and rigid like tautly pulled cords, wrinkles of something heavy and uncomfortable lodging in his throat.

His back arches its way up in a sudden ripple of arousal once Changbin spreads his legs even further apart and everything's so sensitive, so good and so, so real, too real, too real and his hands claw desperately against the wood, eyes squeezing shut in panic. "Fuck me," he breathes out, refusing still, to open them. "Now. I need you to fuck me now."

Changbin doesn't need to be told twice, standing back up and stripping himself dazedly, eyes almost as out of it as his own.

Before Changbin can wrap his legs around his waist, Hyunjin sits up quickly, dropping his feet back onto the floor before turning around and bending over, Changbin's hands grazing along his back as if trying trace every little ridge and crease of his skin.

"Now," he stresses, aching for the strings in his chest to come undone once more, Changbin heeding into his wishes all too willingly.

"You're so bratty." He hears a grunt from behind him as the pace turns rough and fast, his own lips spilling moan after moan against the wood of the table.

Yes, it's so much better like this, everything's so much better like this, he's so much better like this, torn apart and gutted from the insides, mangled cotton-filling tumbling out the ruptured seams he so carelessly was sewn with, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding a heathen thread of glory.

Hyunjin knows this part well, too well, like the back of his hand, muffled cries begging for more, for harder, coarser hands to crush him to pulp and like clockwork they obey, satisfied, relieved at being able to pour out of themselves every human desire and rotted sin they spend their lives trying to suppress and Hyunjin lets them drain him dry of every thought, every noise, every one two three, one two three, onetwothree, and it works, it works, every damn time it works, he proves himself right once it all comes crumbling down, in ruins and in beauty.

What they don't do is leave fluttering imprints of kisses against his shoulder blade, ask him if he's okay, clean him gently, gather his clothes, steady him back onto burning, leaden feet.

Hyunjin dresses himself dazedly, eyes flitting around the darkly-lit apartment as Changbin walks over to kitchen counter and offers him a glass of water. Hyunjin only stares at it in with blinking, perplexed eyes, accepting it gingerly after a few, humiliating seconds of silence.

Changbin beams then, putting on his own clothes before peering up at him peculiarly, as if unsure of what to do. "Are you hungry?"

"No." And then, because his rattling heartbeat is starting to become far too uncomfortable, he says, "Can I smoke on your balcony?"

"Sure." Changbin nods, treading over to the two doors at the end of the expanding room, unlocking them as he steps outside.

Hyunjin follows suit, careful not to accidentally step on what seems to be an octopus plushie and a mermaid doll as he walks through the living room, fingers practically reaching for a cigarette with the speed of light once he makes his way out onto the balcony.

He sits down in one of the two large chairs perched against the ledge, drawing his knees up to his chest as he exhales softly, familiar smell of smoke and stillness like a hymn to calm his nerves.

"Do you want one?" He turns, reaching out the packet for Changbin to take but he just smiles instead, gently shaking his head.

"I quit years ago," he says, eyes trained back upon the vast expanse of gleaming lights below him. "For Jia's sake."

Hyunjin only hums, peering into the endless, star-speckled shadows below him. His limbs feel comfortably heavy then, a low, groaning sense of calmness settling over him with each little drag of his fingers. He looks up at Changbin for a second, his gaze still intently succumbed to the bejeweled veins before them.

"I love sitting up here at night. The city's so beautiful," he murmurs and Hyunjin cranes his neck back to stare into the shimmery view, heart thrumming peacefully. "Mm."

He isn't sure how long they sit there like that, in silence, in the balmy, fragrant repose of saying nothing, lungs exhaling but smoke and emptiness. A sudden gust of wind billows through them then, strands of his hair falling across his face. He can feel Changbin staring.

"What?" Hyunjin asks, voice probably ridged with a tad too much predetermined harshness as he turns back to look at him, Changbin's eyes strange and unvarnished. Hyunjin's stomach clenches painfully all of the sudden.

"Nothing, it's just..." Changbin breathes out, smalls exhumes of smoke filtering around them. "You look breathtaking right now." Hyunjin swallows, the automatic response to just laugh it off withering dreadfully in his throat. "In the darkness, with the lights from the city below."

He diverts his gaze back onto the city below them, ripping it away from the outreaching, spangled branches trying to cut against his skin. He says nothing, unsure really whether the words are simply lodged in his throat or nonexistent all together.

Hyunjin's heard a thousand pretty compliments before, soaks them up like ravishing sugar night after night and yet...he takes another drag, shaking his head quietly to himself. He isn't sure what he's trying to convince himself of.

"Can I ask you something?"

Hyunjin turns around then, Changbin peering into him with nervous, thorny bristles protruding from his eyes. He nods his head slowly, the knot in his stomach back as it punches him uncomfortably in the gut.

"Are you still..." Changbin falters, gaze flicking back into the night sky as if unsure of how to make the creases upon his tongue smoothen out such cursed, ill-fated words, eyes guarded and timid as they land back upon him, "sleeping with Jinyoung?"

Hard ice floods through his veins immediately, small, cruel laugh emitting from his throat as he raises an eyebrow pointedly. "Yeah." Hyunjin thinks the fumes from his cigarette might choke him with how quickly his lungs are becoming clogged, something sickly and angered scorching through his stomach. "Why wouldn't I?"

It's difficult to tell what Changbin's thinking, it's always difficult and yet suddenly Hyunjin discerns every little twitch and crevice of his muscles as if he'd been doing it for years, the subtle hardening of his jaw, plunging of his eyes, quick, barely noticeable flick of the finger - for once Hyunjin knows exactly what he's feeling, the realization barreling through him in harsh, boiling blisters.

Changbin only turns his head back toward the balcony railing, voice strangely empty of anything as he speaks. "Forget I asked."

Hyunjin thinks his insides have become completely submerged in scalding flames, grip around his cigarette tightening with each infuriating second that Changbin refuses to look at him.

"If you have something to say, say it," he grits out, stomach coiling so hard he can only begin to imagine the agony of when it comes bursting free.

Changbin only shakes his head as if admitting to a certain defeat. Hyunjin's chest flares viciously, feet standing up abruptly as he crushes the snub of his cigarette. He doesn't have time for idle, childlike fantasies. Changbin stares up at him then, clearly taken aback from the flame-licking snares that come trickling out of him.

Hyunjin only scoffs at the dumb look on his face. "A little advice for you in the future," he sneers, head splitting open once more in another dirt-woven migraine to bless him good night. "Don't fuck a stripper and then get upset when they act like one."

He doesn't bother sparing him another glance or the weak, futile ability to respond, heels storming back into the apartment with a strange sense of coarseness strangling the insides of his throat. He grabs his gym bag immediately, slamming the front door shut as soon as he's out, eyes blinking rapidly with something that makes him want to scream until he suffocates.

He blinks his threatening sickness away until there's nothing but a hardened shell of pretty, intricate cracks boding with unravelment at any second. Hyunjin's used to gluing them back together, piecing the torn off parts of himself into the desirable silhouette he exhausts of night after night.

It's okay, he thinks. He'll just do it again. As long as his shadow does not weave itself into his skin, it'll be okay. He isn't a child anymore, he knows now, that phantoms and ghosts are but tricks in his mind. Things that aren't real can't reach him, after all.

 

-

 

Itchy. Needle-spun. Hyunjin's fingers twitch as they reach for the door handle, smoothened cedarwood gnarled and ridged against his touch. The chambers of his heart seize him momentarily, a raw, droning fleet of frosted horror surging through his gut. But he's careful. He's always careful.

Hyunjin has learned how to be quiet by now; a mouse in the hollowed out walls of a rotted cat's nest. He won't make any noise, he knows he won't.

Dulled murky heatwaves formed by the night's sunlessness welcome him jarringly as he steps out on the rickety panels of their house's wooden porch. He closes the door behind him quickly, insistent not to linger despite the magnitude of what he's doing pouring lead into his bones.

Even so his limbs move hurriedly, shaky body only stopping for one second to look back as he enters the deserted road of their street. His house is everything he's ever felt, everything he's ever been. Small, bug-infested, decaying. Gutted.

He's seventeen now. He feels as if he's been dead for years.

His neck snaps back onto the road quickly as he walks away with a newfound determination. He doesn't need to waste any time still dipping himself into the shadowed shame that swallows up their property. He'll be gone, soon. With no plans on coming back.

Hyunjin's fingers grip the straps of his backpack tightly, the sweat with which they function making his hold clammy and desperate. The bus station isn't too far now. Luckily, he does not own much to take with him, a few, countable worn-out pieces of clothing and some old crackers he had stolen from the cupboards.

Money, of course, but not much. His mother and stepfather's wallets had only held so much cash within them. Still. It'll be enough for some liquor-store snacks and bottles of water for at least a week.

He doesn't know how much the night bus to Phoenix is, hopes it won't drain him completely. All he knows is that there is one not far from their rattily scattered-out excuse of a neighborhood.

He hadn't left anything behind. Maybe he should have. Some kind of note or false lead to ensure they won't come looking for him. Hyunjin almost wants to laugh at the thought, his stomach curling in on itself with something far too heavy for his nimble body to digest.

He should be used to it by now. He knows his mother will not come looking for him, will most likely be glad he's gone from her life once and for all. But his stepfather...Hyunjin swallows, the faint lights of a rundown bus station shimmering like a beacon in the soot-smudged heavens watching him from above.

He wonders if his stepfather can survive without his dove. If he'll feel a deep, roaring anger pulsate through his bones at the lack of something to play with, to devour. Hyunjin feels a sharp prickle jab at his chest. Will he get a new bird? What's the life of a collector without his treasures?

He doesn't want to think about it, can't think about it anymore. It's none of his concern now. He'll be gone, free of his cage and thrust into the blood-red shades of the sky.

And yet, like always, his sodden mind betrays him once again, rattling and screaming from the inside, tick tock tick tock, melting and melting and melting from the coals inside of them. The bus is nicer than he expects, only a few other passengers cluttered around.

He finds a seat at the very back. It was relatively cheap too. Things are good. Good, good. He's on the bus. He's getting away. The driver had given him a warm smile. And still still still, like a trail of ants that only winds into the infinite, his head rears itself.

Little dove, where are you? Will his stepfather miss him?

Little dove, where did you go? Will he be furious, disappointed?

Little dove, I love you. Sad? Little bird, I adore you so. Hyunjin's gut churns.

Little bird, don't hide. He clamps a hand over his mouth and shuts his eyes tight, so so tight he can start seeing white spots. Little bird, give me love. Why does he care what his stepfather will think?

Little bird, by my side. He doesn't care, he doesn't. Cause you're my pretty little dove.

He leans his head against the windowpane, breathing shallow and ragged. He wants to get that stupid song out of his head, needs to get it out now!

He should have made sure he had a couple of those pills before he left, does not know where he will get them now. He needs them, he needs them. His jaw flutters for a second, opening and closing slowly like his facial muscles can't contain themselves.

They can't, he thinks. Of course they can't, not when the bus is so dirty and there's germs all over his seat and probably remnants of saliva from the last person who'd breathed against the window and his skin feels on fire, bugs and insects and filthy, horrid little critter feet crawling all over it and-

His fists clutch at his stomach achingly, pinching and clawing anywhere he can reach. His chest, below his ribcage, his sides. He must look insane. He probably is insane.

Hyunjin tries to breathe out, his lungs burning from how hard he's held his breath, exhales sharp and shaky like small puffs of smoke from an engine that should have long since been dead. What has he done? How will he survive on his own? Get money? And why is the bus so fucking dirty all of the sudden?!

Quivering and with teeth harshly gnawed against his tongue, Hyunjin starts fumbling through his backpack before drawing forth the old box of plain, pale crackers. He shouldn't eat them already, gut hurling itself in nausea but he forces himself to anyway. It helps, just a little, his stomach groaning in a painful yet comforting appreciation.

The bus ride carries on for what seems like the endless pathway upon the Arizona horizon, his fingers a constant ache as he claws at his skin throughout the journey. It all hurts too much, everything always hurts too much.

Suddenly, after what Hyunjin had thought was a boundless trip in something he was most likely dreaming, the bus come to a halt, tires screeching as they round a large, expanding slab of rifted concrete.

He had not been paying much attention to the outside, his eyes clenched shut in agony for most of the ride, but he can imagine how the roads had gradually shifted from abandoned strips of burning deserts and fields of cacti to larger, newer and flashier streets adorned with big buildings and milling people.

Fancy cars, stores he had never seen, maybe even a hospital somewhere. Or a mall. Hyunjin had never been to the big city.

He's eager when he steps out of the bus, chest loosening immediately as he strips himself away from the filthy germs imprinted on his seat, lungs swallowing the new fresh air at an almost alarming speed. The sky had turned a pretty, light, uncatchable pink. It must be early morning now.

Hyunjin's neck snaps around quickly, eyes burning with the urge to scald all of which he sees into his mind. He needs to replace his muddied memories anyway.

 

-

 

Hyunjin doesn't exactly know what to expect when Felix invites him over around midday during the following week to, quote on quote, assemble furniture, having been excessively avoidant and loyal to his rigorous routine ever since that wretched night and yet still, he thinks, Felix has a strange way of making the knots in his chest unloosen just slightly.

And so he says yes, will delay his planned out trip to the grocery store for tomorrow instead, deciding that he doesn't really need them until then anyway. He just likes to be prepared.

He makes sure he doesn't look too wrung out and tired in the mirror before he leaves, stripping off his oversized t-shirt and baggy pants, replacing it instead with something more fitted, elegant enough yet casual. He doesn't want to start dressing like Minho out in public.

His reflection still remains frustratingly painful to look into, eyes darting around as his stomach starts to brim with the slightest kernels of nausea.

He rips himself away instead, gaze landing upon some of the white plumes in the corner of his room that he'd taken from the club to practice with at home, burlesque week only one sweet day away from burning itself into the sidewalks of the neon city.

Hyunjin steps out of his apartment briskly, eager to get out and away from his wretched mirror, the curves and loops of his upcoming routines replaying in his mind like hymns to fall into.

He flutters through the street wind a mind submerged in something far, far away, just as he likes it, pearly waterfalls and beads of silver fluorescing in between each shutter of his eyes, the walk to Felix's place seemingly a lot shorter than he remembered.

Felix lets him in unwaveringly, bright smile plastered on his face as he ushers him into the living room, disassembled pieces of what he assumes to be a dining table lined up neatly on the floor.

Felix thanks him for coming, grin so eclipsing Hyunjin can't help the one he musters back, the two of them sitting down onto the white vintage, floral rug with crossed legs and confused, almost daunted eyes as they stare into the pieces.

"So..." he trails off, head tilting to the side as he looks at Felix across from him. "Where do we start?"

"Uh." Felix grabs one of the pieces of paper lying discarded on the floor as he inspects it carefully, eyes squinting in skepticism. "All we have to do is screw the legs to the top...with this amazing electric screwdriver I also had to order." He points distractedly at the tool with disinterest, expression turning more and more perplexed the longer it stays trained upon the instructions.

Hyunjin scans the pieces intently, picking up a small plastic bag filled with tiny screws in different shapes and sizes, rattling it against in grip. Felix stares at him, Hyunjin only peers back in doubt. "Why are they different?"

"I have no idea," Felix simply says, shoulders slumping together as if exhausted by the matter already. "Thank God I invited Changbin too."

"What?" Hyunjin thinks his blood might freeze over entirely, eyes widening in bewilderment as he gapes at Felix's puzzled expression, the brewing rage from sullied memories withering into powdery dust of horror instead. "Why would you do that?"

Felix gives him a strange, almost amused look before shrugging, explaining like it should be obvious. "We need someone strong."

"I'm strong!" He insists, unsure really what he's even attempting to do, gut clenching uncomfortably as he resists the urge to start scanning the room in a rapid frenzy.

Felix laughs slightly, threading his hand through his hair, the sunlight from outside making him look oddly angelic. "Yeah, but the more the merrier right?" Still, Hyunjin thinks, he wants to push him onto the floor. "Besides, I also want that bookshelf behind you moved. It's an antique. I don't think either one of us is capable of lifting that."

Hyunjin turns around to look at the bookshelf, dark, sturdy rosewood panels a satisfying contrast to the cream colored walls behind it. He whips his head back around, gaze boring Felix insistent and determined. "Together we could."

Felix only tilts his head slightly to the side, forehead creasing together as an all too amused smile flickers across his face. "Do you not want him to come?"

"I don't care, it's just..." his eyes flit around the room, stomaching clenching as he tries to think of something, "doesn't he have a daughter to take care of?"

Felix shrugs, inspecting some of the pieces with a daunted expression, nose scrunching up in dislike. "He told me he could help. She's on a playdate apparently."

Hyunjin doesn't know what the fuck a playdate is, but clearly it's enough for him to bide his time here with them, his chest tightening back up once more. How fucking convenient.

Then, because he doesn't need Felix to think he's some type of idiot that cares when he obviously shouldn't, he laughs nervously, neck craning around the room. "Awesome."

His eyes remain trained upon the kitchen for a brief second before landing back to Felix, stomach littered with billows of desperation. "Hey, you know what would go well with furniture assembling?" Hyunjin bites his lip, forcing forth a feigned, enthusiastic smile. "Wine. Do you have any?"

Felix only gives him a pointed, deadpan look. Hyunjin's gut sinks in disappointment. "Oh. Right." He looks at the small packet of screws with aversion. "So I take it the whole sober thing applies to alcohol too?"

Felix hums, nodding as he draws his knees up to his chest, tilting his head slightly to the side. "I decided it was for the best...never had much of a problem with it but. You know." He sighs, eyes cast toward the floor as if thinking things probably best left untouched. "Besides, Changbin doesn't drink either."

Something sharp jabs at Hyunjin's stomach then, similar to the brief feeling of nausea he'd forced himself to swallow when Changbin had forgotten his jacket that day at the club. It feels like years ago, all of the sudden.

"He doesn't?" Hyunjin never knows anything about the guys he sleeps with, so why does it make him feel so fucking weird right then and there, knees crossed over each other as he tries not to untangle them and start running. And then, before he can stop himself, he asks, "How often do you guys hang out exactly?"

Felix looks up at him, eyes squinting as if trying to think of the right thing to say. "Not that often, it's just...he's helped me with some of the NA stuff. He used to go, so he knows what it's like."

Hyunjin's mouth drops open, the cords in his limbs tightening immediately. "Changbin went to NA meetings?"

Felix nods. "Years ago though. He's sober now." Tilting his head just a little, he gives him a strange, far too inquisitive look, eyes glinting with something Hyunjin can't decipher. "How come you know so little about him when you guys are always together?"

Hyunjin recoils at that, memories of burning, tingling skin flooding through him in sheets of vicious ice. "We are not always together. Why would you think that?"

"I mean at work," Felix quips, eyebrows creasing as if there's nothing perplexing about his words at all. "He's your bodyguard."

Hyunjin scoffs, fingers fumbling with the fabric of his black jeans, bones jittery and restless. "Babysitter more like. Doesn't mean we have to talk."

"Well, you should. He's really nice," Felix insists, because of fucking course he does.

Felix could probably find a mole rat nice if he wanted to, Hyunjin grumbles quietly to himself, the crawling dread from before suddenly seeping back into him, throat dry as he picks at his legs in agitation.

He stares back up at Felix then, eyes skittish despite him trying desperately not to let them scatter apart. "Does he know I'm here?"

Felix seems to think about it for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in confusion before he gently shakes his head. "Uh...no."

"Fuck," he mutters, gnawing on his lips anxiously, stomach curling in uncomfortable, searing blisters.

Felix gives him an amused look then, a small smile flickering across his face as his eyes squint slightly. "You're acting weird."

It's all he gets to say really, before a sudden sharp knock resounds from the front door, Hyunjin's gut churning immediately as Felix gets up to open it, wide grin already pretty upon his lips. Hyunjin remains firmly rooted to the floor, refusing to look up at the hallway as the lighthearted chatter of Changbin's voice trickles into the apartment, like heavy, suffocating lead.

The chattering comes to an abrupt halt all of the sudden, his bodyguard's eyes no doubt having noticed his presence as both he and Felix make their way back into the living room, gaze landing upon him for a quick, densely-sealed moment.

"Hey," is all he says, voice casual and feigning mild interest, but Hyunjin can hear the remnants of taut, rigid strings beneath the surface, scratching their way up slowly.

Hyunjin looks back at him then, both he and Felix having sat down on the opposite side of the floor facing him, a small "hey" mimicking its way back. His throat feels unbearably dry as he speaks.

Felix gives them both a questionable eyebrow raise, but only shakes his head quietly before firmly handing the instructions to Changbin and explaining what needs to be done. Seemingly all too content with something to distract him with, Changbin listens intently, sorting through the screws as he starts matching them with each table leg.

Hyunjin tries to pay attention to when they start talking, mindless, enthusiastic prattle about children and work and God knows what, but his head swims with fuzzy, static visions of a midnight-painted city and the fumes of smoke curling from his fire-rasping lips.

Still he manages to screw on a leg by himself, spending probably an entirely unnecessary amount of time simply boring holes into the mahogany wood, words filtering in and out of his ears like being dipped underwater.

He catches a meek "I'm making brownies for my meeting tonight," as he peers up at the two of them, Felix looking at Changbin with expectant, almost timid eyes. Hyunjin's gut twists itself into something ugly.

"I'm sure they'll love it," Changbin reassures, finishing the last leg of the table as Felix grins excitedly.

Hyunjin snorts, knees drawn to his chest as he picks restlessly at the bracelet he's wearing, switching it from arm to arm as he tries not to make his leg bounce. "Oh my god imagine how funny it would be if you put weed in them."

Hyunjin rips his gaze away from the string of small beads only to find both Changbin and Felix staring at him with pointed expressions, clearly not at all impressed. Hyunjin throws his hands in mock surrender, muttering exasperatedly beneath his breath, "It was just a joke."

The two of them go back to their conversation as if he'd never spoken at all, his chest tightening even more as he tries not to roll his eyes.

Changbin helps Felix move his little bookshelf eventually, muscles flexing from the heavy weight and Felix thanks him brightly once it's done. Hyunjin tries not to stare, wrenching his eyes away immediately back onto their newly completed table as Changbin turns his head, catches his gaze in his own. What the fuck is wrong with him?

His skin itches, fingernails scraping quietly along the underside of his arm as he tries not to make it noticeable. He needs to shower, shower, shower. When are they going to be done with this shit?

Then, as if reading his thoughts, Felix's eyes widen almost comically as he shoots up straight, pearls of frenzy littered throughout his face. "Shit, I have to go!"

"What?" Changbin asks, looking at him skeptically, arms crossing as if Felix's rattled nerves are rubbing off on him.

Felix walks toward the front door hurriedly, grabbing a tote bag as he starts furiously checking the items inside, words panicked and brittle as he rushes through them. "Totally forgot I have a chiropractor appointment right now, in like twenty minutes!"

"Oh," is all Changbin says and Hyunjin stands up immediately, relief flooding through his veins as he starts to make his way to the front door as well.

Felix seems to gauge his intentions of leaving straight away, back arching upright as he stares at the two of them in desperate, fevered insistence. "No, no don't go!"

"What do you mean?" Changbin asks, eyeing his shoes as if seconds away from grabbing them and heading back into the hallway.

"I won't have time to make the brownies!" Felix stresses as if there was nothing more blatant in the world, eyes downturned in exasperation as his eyebrows knit together.

Hyunjin squints his eyes at him, baffled. "So?! Do it another time!"

Felix shakes his head determinedly, grabbing a jacket from his clothing rack and slipping it on. "No I promised I'd bring them tonight!" He slings his bag across his shoulder, furiously running his hands through his hair as his lips start to pout. "Can you guys do it? Please?"

Hyunjin thinks his entire stomach freezes in horror, mouth open in shock as nothing but silence tumbles through his lips.

"What?" Changbin asks, eyes wide in bewilderment as Felix seemingly ignores his question all together. His hands clap together excitedly, eyes scrunching up as a bright, exuberant grin flickers across his face. "Thank you so much oh my god, I'll be back in like an hour!"

Changbin shakes his head slowly. "Wait-"

Felix's hand is already on the doorhandle, turning it hurriedly as he gestures toward his kitchen. "The recipe is on my fridge!"

Finally finding the strength back in his throat again, Hyunjin yells at him in one last, desperate attempt to come salvage whatever horrors he's about to unfold upon them. "Felix!"

"And don't put any weed in them!" Is the last thing he says, shooting him a very specific, very chastising glare before the door effectively slams shut, the sound reverberating through the room as if an empty, dust-speckled crater rattled by a large thud of something condemned.

"What just happened?" Changbin says, staring blankly at the door, face wiped of any emotions whatsoever.

"He can't just leave!" Hyunjin shouts, hand gesturing aggressively to the conspicuous lack of Felix in front of them as if it would somehow conjure him back.

"He can't honestly expect us to make his brownies?" Hyunjin turns to look at Changbin then, eyes pooling in hopeless exasperation waiting for the assurance of agreement, but Changbin only sighs, walking tiredly toward the kitchen counter as he starts squinting at the small strip of paper taped to the side of the fridge.

Still firmly rooted to his spot, Hyunjin only stares at him in confoundment. "What are you doing?"

Changbin opens a few of the cabinets and starts carefully filtering through them, placing the right ingredients upon the counter after double checking that they're right. "Felix always puts others first," he mutters, bending down to start searching for measuring cups. "If someone deserves that kindness back, it's him."

Hyunjin's jaw drops open, eyes scrunching in panicked indignation. No fucking way they're actually doing this. "Are you serious?!"

Changbin finally turns to look at him then, leaning against the counter as he sighs once more. "You don't have to do it, you can go if you want to."

Hyunjin grumbles quietly under his breath, cursing every single deity, star and planet he doesn't believe in as he makes his way over, shooting Changbin a glare. "Oh and make me the asshole that just leaves."

Changbin only shakes his head as if fed up, turning back to place enough measuring cups up on the clean, spotless counters now littered with an array of dry ingredients. Hyunjin scans the recipe carefully, snatching a packet of brown sugar from Changbin's grip before he gets the chance to start measuring it.

"What are you doing?" Hyunjin hisses, staring at him with a pointed, sharpened scowl. "The recipe clearly doesn't say to put brown sugar in it."

"Half and half makes it better, trust me," is all he says before reaching back to grab it, Hyunjin swiftly flinging his own hand out of his reach. Changbin only looks at him with furrowed eyebrows, expression a mixture of perplexity and agitation. "What the hell?"

"We need to follow the recipe," Hyunjin stresses, pointing at the little strip of paper with insistence.

Changbin squints his eyes at him if as if he can't really tell for sure whether he's being serious or not. "I'm sure Felix won't mind."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, crossing his arms assertively. Why can't he just fucking do as the recipe says? "Yes he would because he's not a barbarian that can't follow instructions."

Changbin tilts his head then, amusement glinting in his expression. "I don't know if you're the right person to be saying that."

"I just-" He takes a deep breath, chest scattered with imprints of panic, his fingers clenching and unclenching with unease. "We need to get it right."

Changbin seems to sense the bristled skin seeping out of him, holding his hands up as he nods in defeat. "Okay, okay. Take the lead."

Hyunjin places the sack of brown sugar back in its cupboard, eyeing the half-haphazardly arranged measuring cups with a sense of dread staggering through him. "And we need to clean these."

"They look clean to me-"

"I'll do it," he insists, teeth grinding together as he snatches the mixing bowl and concentratedly washes his hands in sets of threes before grabbing an unused cloth beneath the sink to start scrubbing.

He doesn't trust the rubber from the cleaning gloves enough and really who knows how precise and meticulous Felix is when it comes to cleaning, sure he seems put together and tidy enough but he doesn't really know, he doubts Felix does it like this, one, two, three, hard, rigorous, one, two, three, nobody cares enough about the details, one, two, three, but the details matter of course they do, one, two, three, or else it won't be right and then-

"You're really thorough. I think it's fine now-"

"Just start melting the butter!" He grits, placing the bowl to dry as he grabs one of the measuring cups, scrubbing undoubtedly harder than he needs to from how much his fingers are starting to ache and yet he welcomes the pain with an all too comfortable familiarity, exhaustive and methodical as he scrubs, scrubs, scrubs.

Thankfully Changbin listens to him and doesn't interrupt, the rattling sound of him melting the butter muffled against his ear, his head searing as it counts in steady, perfect beats. He gets through them after some time, breathing slightly easier the minute his reddened hands turn off the faucet.

Changbin comes over to him then, peering up at him as if intrigued. "Butter is melted, oven is set. You done?"

Hyunjin hands over the measuring cups as Changbin accepts them gratefully, placing them upon the other side of the counter before carefully pouring out both the meticulously measured sugar and oil into the mixing bowl along with the melted butter.

Changbin starts whisking the ingredients together, halting for a moment to cast his eyes into his own. He sounds oddly solemn when he speaks, as if unsure how to properly coat his words beneath the belly of the tiger. "I didn't you know you were gonna be here by the way."

"Me neither," Hyunjin quips, biting his lip as he shakes his head in disbelief. The whole situation is absurd. "This is weird."

Changbin starts whisking again, picking up the pace as he continues to take small glances up at him. "Yeah, definitely not on my bingo card. Thought I was gonna pick up Jia from work and take a nap. But alas, here I am." He laughs, setting down the bowl onto the counter. "Making sure you don't put weed in Felix's brownies."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, biting back a small grin. "You work every day at the studio?"

"Pretty much yeah." Changbin nods, still watching him as he haphazardly cracks two eggs into the bowl, Hyunjin's heart nearly seizing as he imagines the small wedges of shell lodged into the batter. He peers in anxiously, finding nothing instead. "But co-owning it does have its perks. I can take some days off if I really need to."

Hyunjin stares at him as he tosses the shells in the trash can below the sink, mind trying desperately to piece his words together. "So you work day and night? And you have a child?" Changbin goes back to whisking, looking at him intently. "When do you sleep?"

"I don't," he laughs, though its rid of any humor whatsoever. Then he shakes his head, as if guilty for sounding ungrateful. "I'm lucky though. My mom helps me a lot."

Hyunjin gnaws on his lips, legs restless still as he leans in closer, trying to see what the batter looks like. He finds Changbin already staring as he turns his head back up again, their faces suddenly much closer than he remembered.

He goes swiftly back to one of the unused measuring cups, mixing in the dry ingredients. His throat feels dry as he speaks. "So I guess Jia's mother isn't really..."

"No," Changbin says, his whisking halting slightly. It's difficult to tell what emotion his words become laced with. Hyunjin focuses intently upon his own little task. "She's not."

"So you own the tattoo place?" He asks, the clear need for a change in subject hanging thickly in the air between them.

Changbin nods at that, perking up slightly. "Yeah, me and my two friends, Jisung and Chan. You met Jisung."

"Oh yeah." Hyunjin smirks, the memories rushing back to him. He gives Changbin a teasing glare. "Your virgin friend."

"He's not-" he laughs, shaking his head, small grin resting on his lips. "Yeah, he's a bit weird sometimes. But he's a good guy, we've known each other for years."

Hyunjin walks over to him, slowly tilting his own bowl into the larger one as Changbin halts his whisking entirely. "All three of you?"

"Yeah." He picks up his pace as soon as Hyunjin's added just enough. "Chan and I have been best friends since childhood and we met Jisung in high school. He's a bit younger, we kind of took him under our wing." Stop. Hyunjin pours in some more. He starts whisking again.

"They help me with Jia too, she loves them." Hyunjin tries not to make eye contact, the two of them suddenly far too close yet again. "I don't know what I would've done if it weren't for them." Halt. Hyunjin tilts in the rest of the dry ingredients, Changbin's eyes scanning his every movement intently, even when he retreats as he starts to mix the batter to completion. "They're like her uncles."

"That's nice," Hyunjin quips, gaze buzzing around Felix's kitchen as he searches desperately for a baking tray.

"What about you?" Changbin seems to have taken care of that already, handing him a parchment-lined pan as he sets his own bowl down. He must've done it when he was cleaning. "What do you do during the day? I mean before you become the Tiger Lily."

Taken aback by the question, Hyunjin only stares at him for a time he considers to be far too long, mind scrambling to conjure enough scattered remnants that burn inside his brain. "Oh...I get things done, mostly. You know, cleaning and stuff."

"Sure." Changbin nods and then after a beat of silence, gives him a small, amused smile. "Anything else?"

"Well..." He diverts his gaze for a second, chest tightening all of the sudden. "It takes a long time."

"Cleaning?" Changbin asks him, eyebrows furrowed slightly, yet Hyunjin fails to detect any indentions of malice in his voice.

"Yes," he answers, forehead creasing as if it's obvious. Of course cleaning takes a lot of time, he has to do it right, doesn't he?

"What, your apartment?"

"Yes," Hyunjin insists, eyebrows knitting together. What kind of questions are these?

"Every day?" Changbin only seems to grow more and more amused by his answers, though his expression turns puzzled as he stares at him.

"What?" Hyunjin's stomach churns, arms crossing in defense.

Changbin only rewords himself, looking almost concerned if anything. "You clean your apartment every day?"

Hyunjin scoffs, but his irritation becomes firmly shoved down the drain by a budding sense of doubt. "Why wouldn't I?"

Changbin ignores his question, tilting his head slightly to the side. He sounds far too perplexed, Hyunjin thinks. What else is he supposed to do? "And that's what you do? The entire day?"

"Well-I sleep later than you," he says, tone growing more and more guarded with each poorly tumbled word. "And I do other stuff too. Like...shower. Get ready for the club. Stuff like that."

Changbin only stares at him as if he doesn't quite believe what he's saying. Hyunjin scoffs, picking up the bowl full of batter as he redirects it toward the pan. "I'm not a day person anyway."

"Interesting," is all Changbin comments, peering at him inquisitively. Hyunjin halts from where he's bent over and pouring out the batter, turning his head to send him a sharp, pointed glare. "What?"

"Nothing." Changbin laughs lightheartedly as Hyunjin continues to fill out the tray, immersed in his every little movement. Hyunjin can already feel the familiar scalding of his skin as his stare burns into him. He sets the bowl down once he's done, still imprinted with small remnants of batter as Changbin graciously sets the pan into the oven.

Hyunjin watches with a curving sensation looping through his stomach as Changbin returns, mischievous grin etched upon his face as he picks up the mixing bowl, holding it out as if offering some sort of well-kept treasure. "And now...for the best part."

"What?" Hyunjin blinks at him dumbly, eyes flitting between the bowl and Changbin's excited expression with clear-cut confusion.

"You get to lick the batter," Changbin says as if it's nothing, peering down into it and back up at him again.

"Huh?" Hyunjin's eyes widen, nose scrunching in distaste. "Eat the batter?"

"Yeah." Changbin laughs, clearly amused by his dumbfounded expression. "You know, what's left of it."

Hyunjin's eyebrow furrow in skepticism, glaring into the bowl as if afraid it might hurt him. "Is that safe?"

"I mean...your stomach might hurt a little but yeah, it's safe." Changbin looks far too entertained by his hesitation. Hyunjin grumbles quietly. "You've never eaten the batter when baking?"

"I've never baked before," he mumbles, unsure really, why admitting it feels so humiliating all of the sudden.

"Oh." Changbin seems slightly surprised at that, but his face quickly falls into one of a delighted enthusiasm. "Well then I'm witnessing something special."

Hyunjin grabs the bowl gingerly, still eyeing it with doubt. His eyes look back up again, searching for something he doesn't know and finding Changbin's immediately. "You're just gonna stare?"

Changbin's grin widens. Hyunjin wants to wring out his stomach for the lightness that expands within it. "Yes, this is an exciting moment! Your first spatula lick."

Hyunjin glares at him, swallowing back a smile, Changbin's unrelenting gaze on him making his chest bristle with annoying, small-winged nerves. "This is so weird, stop staring!"

Changbin only laughs as if bewildered, grin still bright and intact. "Aren't you used to people staring at you?"

"Ugh, stupid," Hyunjin mutters, shooting him a weak scowl as he picks up the spatula, eyeing it suspiciously for a second before a wicked idea unfurls through his mind, blasphemous and sullied and so, so delicious.

He smirks, flickering his eyes back up to Changbin's infuriatingly determined stare, a sharp jolt of something electric coursing through him the minute their eyes meet, tongue wet against the sweetened batter as he licks his way up the spatula slowly, movement sensual and suggestive as he refuses to look anywhere else but Changbin's now all too flustered gaze.

Hyunjin smirks once he's done, Changbin's grin suddenly nowhere to be found as he stares at him seeming far more decomposed than mere moments ago. "Okay, you didn't have to do that."

"You were asking for it," he says, twirling the spatula in between his fingers. Changbin looks at him as if struggling to decide whether he's astonished or simply frightened.

"Now that's going to replay through my mind the entire week," he mutters, eyes flickering down to the bowl as Hyunjin swallows a laugh.

"Really?" He steps a bit closer, grin entirely too delighted. "I can do it again, you know." Changbin's eyes flit back up to his just in time for him to repeat his little game once again, tongue licking the plastic material even more obscenely than just seconds ago, eyes closing shut in a feigned, aroused pleasure.

"No, stop it," Changbin says, voice weakened and not at all sounding like he means it. Hyunjin's smirk only stretches itself wider, tone playful and teasing as he inches his way closer, trapping him against the edge of the counter.

"Look, this one's even better." He does it again, eyes squeezing shut as he gives out the most pornographic sounding moan he manages, the feeling of slithering triumph only short lived as Changbin firmly reaches forward and snatches both the bowl and the spatula out of his grip. "Okay, I'm taking this."

"Hey!" Hyunjin tries reaching for it, throat littered with small bounds of laughter, but Changbin pointedly stretches his arms too far behind the counter for him to reach. Hyunjin pushes himself against his torso, grabbing wildly into nothing as he tries to reach. "Give it back!"

"Absolutely not." Changbin laughs, shaking his head good-naturedly before grabbing his waist with one arm and decisively spinning him around, the two of them changing positions as Hyunjin becomes locked against the counter.

Still he continues to determinately stretch his arms playfully in at attempt to get the spatula back, Changbin frustratingly strong and sturdy enough for him to stay firmly put against the wooden edge.

Hyunjin grins then, placing both his arms on Changbin's chest instead, his eyebrow raising in return as they start dragging down his stomach, dancing along the fabric of his belt. Changbin gives him an insincere, chastising glare.

"You're a peril to my mental health, you know that?" Still the charming smile slowly seeping its way onto his face betrays any semblance of exasperation. Hyunjin's stomach plummets headfirst. "Now I'm never gonna look at baking the same way."

Hyunjin tugs sharply at his belt, whispering sweetly as he leans forward. "Give it backkk."

"Nooo," Changbin mimics his overly melodious tone as he shakes his head teasingly.

Hyunjin rocks back and forth on his heels as he continues to dig into the belt, tilting his head to the side as he blinks up as prettily as he can. "Pleaseee."

Changbin looks as if he's about one rash decision away from leaning in and kissing him, eyes glinting with something far beyond the mere lightheartedness of playful games, cavernous and candescent and Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever heard his own heart thrum so loudly throughout his bones, his stomach dropping in one large, exhilarating plunge toward murky, unclear waters and he thinks he can almost taste with his own, illusion spinning tongue the stickiness of honeyed sugar before it arrives, perfumed and nauseating and making his head turn heavy with the haze of floral redolence, too sweet and too real and too-

The toe-curling drops of candy never come, the door clicking open in one sharp, sudden contortion of noise as Changbin practically jumps away from him as if scalded, his skin burning from the remnants of where they'd last touched. Hyunjin turns to a relief-flooded Felix immediately, hands wringing themselves behind his back as he tries to steady his own breathing.

"I'm back!" He grins, shrugging his tote bag off his shoulder as he makes his way toward the kitchen counter, face swelling in elation once he notices the brownies cooking safely in the oven.

He beams at them, brushing a few strands of hair from his face. "Thank you guys so much! You have no idea how much easier you made my life today!"

Changbin gives a weak, yet at the same overtly enthusiastic smile back, nodding and saying that it really was no big deal at all. Hyunjin swallows as Felix turns over to look at him, grinning faintly as he tries to urge his feet from running out the door. "Don't worry, they are entirely marijuana free."

"Thank you!" Felix squeals and before he can do anything, Felix wraps his arms around his neck in a tight, buzzing hug, retracting his body from his and spinning around to give the same to Changbin before he even gets the chance to process what's happened.

Changbin, seemingly flustered and surprised all at once, responds back feebly before Felix slips out of his grip. Hyunjin stares at them, the strange lack of something wretched and ugly forcing itself down his throat rendering him unsettled instead.

Felix asks if they want to stay to try out a brownie, they'd deserved it after all, but Hyunjin just shakes his head politely, excusing himself by saying he needs to go home and practice. It's cabaret week, after all. Felix nods in far too much understanding, wishing him luck as he starts going on an excited rampage to a very confused looking Changbin about the artistry of burlesque.

Hyunjin smiles weakly before slipping out the door, unsure really, who it was meant for. Still, like a drowned, withered ship in search of a beacon, does he find it, a small ghost of a smile, almost impossible to discern if not for the assurance of his own welting heart, crowning him back straight through the stomach.

Alone and perplexingly barren of overflowing three-leafed clovers, does the spark of dread begin to engulf him, the glinting road to the bewitched, thronged tip of a spinning wheel unfurling itself along the cracks of his wicked, god-ridden city like the flooding of rainfall in the river. He'll need to be careful, now, of where he steps.

Notes:

felix is the biggest changjin shipper, y'all have to get in line 😏

also i know hyunjin is stubborn af, but it’ll all be worth it in the end i promise 😫🙏

double update today!! happy birthday larissa, always my biggest supporter 🥺💕 this one’s for you😘

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 8: A Sinner's Rapture

There's a certain, almost unequivocal sense of symbolism from extending himself like this on stage, Hyunjin thinks. Bejeweled in sparkling, eye-catching pearls that cascade down his body, submerged in the crystal clear dip of an enlarged martini glass, legs sloping along the rim as he bathes himself alluringly from the pools of water soaking his lower body. Delicious and lowered in his own, outpouring thirst - a droplet of sin upon a silver platter.

Hyunjin dunks himself in enticingly, legs flickering upward as a splash of water trails after it, smile teasing and flirtatious as he flashes it toward the blackness of the crowd. The art of burlesque is all about being coy, unfurling small strips of himself in playful, seductive ribbons to strap themselves around the necks of his watchers, tugging and pulling until their heads come tumbling to the floor.

Hyunjin places both his arms on the edge of the glass, stretching out his legs to the other side so that he's raised above the water, body lifting itself upward with the palms of his hand, back arching as his head drops back.

He flexes one leg gracefully in the air before sinking back down again, lips painted in a tempting, coquettish smirk as he splashes another quick, fountained chain of water up toward the ceiling.

Hyunjin swivels around elegantly in the bowl, perched upon his knees as his fingers skim the rim of the glass sensually, torso raised and glittering from the ivory, diamond encrusted fabric of his corset, waist cinched tight and hard in the perfect satisfying ache he so desperately yearns for.

A string of pearls is wrapped snugly around his hips, descending in ringlets to graze against each of his thighs, cloaking their way up his white, tiny shorts like vines ready to puncture him with their thorns, sweet, sweet holy blood of gemstones.

Hyunjin knows he looks bewitching like this, a classic beauty of sparkling antiquity and poise chipped at the core from his own modern, clawing need, nature, to devour.

As he'd immersed himself in the birth of winged-creatures back stage, nostrils burning and head light, Jinyoung had nearly scalded him from the impure flames of desire fanning across his neck. He'd indulged, just a little, mind reeling from the rapture of his little drops of nose candy, playful, inviting, petaled fully to that of the tiger lily in bloom.

And yet his stem had begun to wither, suddenly, jarringly as his body retreated itself away from the cursed swelters of heat, creeks of something liquid and black spilling through his vision.

Jinyoung is assertive, dominating, but never forceful, never childish, watching in befuddled disappointment as his hold on the tiger lily loosens just slightly, a small petal dropping to the floor in a quiet, foreboding death.

Hyunjin tries not to think of the discordant strings pulling in his chest, shying away from the one game he always ends up winning, wings sliced and uncomfortable against his back. Hyunjin never says no, and yet something had compelled him to anyway.

His eyes search through the gazes of his watchers from the martini glass, the usual array of men upgraded tonight, wealthier, self-assured and sophisticated. Cabaret week is expensive, Hyunjin knows, the prices raised even more so just to get in, a tiny glimpse of an ornate, extravagant striptease to satisfy the droning hours of a daydream-devoid nine to five.

His private rooms had been smooth-sailing throughout the night, laughter pretty and batting of eyes like clockwork, flirtatious and empty-headed. He'd received more tips than he could count, perhaps his most successful shift yet and now, dipped in pools of water and back firmly facing the crowd, Hyunjin knows his fortune has hardly come to an end.

He unties the strings of his corset slowly, neck twisting over his shoulder to give his watchers a playful wink, eyes finding for a moment the end station he always seems to be riding towards.

Changbin is looking at him now, his fingers dancing along in exaggerated movements of sensuality as he continues to unlace his porcelained, glitter-spangled corset, his mind swirling in greedy threads of vanity as soon as it's off, skin bare and tingling from something that shouldn't be able to reach him.

When he turns around teasingly slow, his watchers devour him with the sharpened teeth of the wilderness he knows so well, grating and carnal as he smirks back suggestively, unable to hide the smugness bleeding through him as he raises himself back to his knees and splashes streamlets of water with his hands, twisting and slanting his upper body along the seductive beat of the music as they soak him in flutters. Changbin is definitely watching him.

Hyunjin tries not to make eye-contact, he has to be professional tonight above all others as he scoops water into the small bowl at the bottom of the glass, lifting it above his head and tilting it over, droplets drenching his hair and skin as he glistens from the wetness.

He's wearing almost nothing except for the strings of pearls and tiny shorts around his thighs, his kaleidoscope of butterflies dipping tantalizing into his waistline. Hyunjin doesn't need to check to see if Changbin is looking, he already knows that he is, body swiveling back down into the glass once more as he flexes his leg high and straight into the air.

His watchers seem enraptured by each and every little curve of his taut, bending muscles, the music thrumming intoxicatingly throughout his bones as he stretches them to the rhythm. The effects of the last line he'd snorted have already withered, he thinks, and yet still he's high, high, high from the addicting strokes of power.

His eyes sear themselves to the vastness before him, feeding and biting from every spellbound face he can discern through the dimming light, suckling and nurturing on them like a baby cub eager to grow up and kill. Tailored suits, grips of expensive whiskey, subtle veils of towering status and then, in the faintest trickle of a corner away from lush, velvet couches, two sharp shards of unconformity nestle themselves into his little realm like pinpricks on his finger.

Hyunjin recognizes one of them instantly, memories from the time he'd swirled his lower back in ink flooding through him with unease as he watches Jisung whisper something eagerly into the ear of the unknown man beside him.

The stranger, though Hyunjin can already guess who it is, as dazed and inebriated as he seems to be tunnels his vision up onto the stage, eyes widening momentarily as they land right upon him. Jisung points to him frantically, the two of them flickering back and forth from each other and the stage, clearly discussing something with far too much enthusiasm.

Hyunjin refuses to falter from his routine, his eyes darting quickly to Changbin who, still looking at him, has yet to notice their presence. Something ugly rears itself in his chest.

Hyunjin continues to swivel around in the glass seductively, aching, for the first time in his life, to finish his performance.

Small seeds of doubt spatter themselves inside his ribcage as he raises himself above the bowl once more, throwing his head back and extending his leg effortlessly, body beginning to throb from exhaustion of a night spent ignited and doused. He shakes it off resolutely, dragging his hands sensually across his skin, fingers dancing along the cascading beads of pearls. Insecurity has no place for when he's putting on a show.

With one swift, agile drop back into the martini glass, he splashes through the water with his toes, playful, flirtatious as he shoots the crowd a grin, twisting smoothly as he stands back up on his knees and hooking his leg over the rim, the other following suit.

Perched upon the ledge, Hyunjin crosses his legs as they stretch, careful not to lose his balance as he raises his arm in one final, showstopping coax of applause, smile wide and gratified and numb against his face. His watchers erupt into cheers immediately, whistles and hollers he usually would've soaked up in arrogance like a grating rattle as the lights dim completely, the curtains drawing and leaving him expressionless as the smile slips away.

Someone approaches him immediately with a ladder as he climbs down from the glass, feet throbbing the second they touch the floor as he hurriedly makes his way backstage. Already there and waiting, Changbin hands him a towel and his black, silk robe, Hyunjin accepting them both with a gnawing feeling in his gut.

"You did amazing," Changbin breathes out, eyes bright and fathomless. Hyunjin straps his discarded corset back on haphazardly before slipping on the robe and his abandoned heels deserted by the railing. He's almost done for the night, needing only to do one of the smaller stages before he leaves.

Almost forgetting about the restless agitation forming in his chest, he looks up at Changbin who's already staring at him in astonishment, a small smile flitting across his lips. "Thanks."

"I mean when you pulled your whole body up, wow." Changbin grins, following him as he starts walking back toward the main area of the club. "That was impressive. I can't believe you didn't slip."

Hyunjin hums, shooting him a pained, almost childlike look. "I'm tired." What the fuck is he doing?

"Almost done now, yeah?" Changbin's impassioned smile turns into one of gentle, pacifying reassurance. Hyunjin's stomach flips, his throat drying immediately as he decisively rips his gaze away and takes brisk, determined steps toward a vacant stage with a pole in one of the corners.

Whining like a child in search of comfort, Hyunjin slinks his way up, watchers gathering at his feet as soon as they notice his presence, he needs to get a fucking grip.

Changbin lingers behind, back bared against the wall as he pointedly keeps an eye on the crowd. Hyunjin tugs his robe off teasingly, smirking as he curves his leg around the pole and starts to dance. He plunges himself into the feeling, longing once more to float far, far away into the lightheadedness of the sky, dropping down sensually as he crawls to gather tips.

As he stands up, he grabs onto two blush colored-feather fans, their plumes large and soft as they graze along his fingertips, smile coy and playful once he drops to the floor, making himself small and obscured behind the large feathers shrouding his body. Hyunjin kicks his legs up one at a time, sensually and to the beat of the sultry music, teasing and tantalizing as he refuses to reveal his entire self just yet.

As soon as the rhythm changes, he rolls to his knees, one fan raised above his head as the other fans across his torso, legs willowy and graceful as he stands up, placing both plumes in front of his upper body in the classic, fluttering shape of a heart.

Hyunjin smiles as he takes slow, feline steps across the stage, the feathers puffing and branching out in crests of softness as he twirls them around with his fingers above his head, body light and poised as he spins around, eyes landing for a brief, unsettling moment upon Changbin in the corner.

Still looking dutifully into his watchers, Hyunjin can tell that bounds of alarm and confusion have littered themselves across his face, jaw unusually hardened, forehead creased as if dreading something he isn't quite sure he can name. Hyunjin follows his eyes with a heavy, plunging of his gut as they find, there in the midst of his refined, attentive audience, the leering gazes of Jisung and who he assumes to be Chan.

Swallowing his temporary discomposure, Hyunjin crosses both arms around his chest and turns to the side, the fluttery plumes like illusioned butterfly wings as he fans them across his back, smile bashful yet inviting all at once. He turns around, back facing the crowd, his carefully curated expression slipping off his face as soon as no one can see it, something nasty beginning to ripple through his chest.

He places both fans elegantly behind his back, the feathers downturned and shrouding his lower body like that of a peacock, hips twisting to the sides along with the music as the plumes billow entrancingly from his movements.

Why the fuck are they here? Then, swiftly, he lifts the feathers up, the edges upturned and raised as he bends over playfully, the hollers and whistles grating against his ear, lips numb from any satisfied smirk whatsoever. And more importantly, why the fuck does he care?

Hyunjin turns back around, feigned smile plastered back on his face like clockwork, the fans behind his back like outstretching feathers of a bird ready to prance. He can make out through the dulled light a very fervently animated Jisung talking to Chan, their eyes flitting back and forth from each other and up to the stage.

It's obvious they're talking about him, Jisung eyeing him up and down and leaning in to whisper something, Chan laughing all of the sudden and Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever been so excited for a performance to end.

He gets through it gruelingly, shooting Changbin poorly-concealed looks of skepticism as he dances and yet Changbin isn't looking at him anymore, his face rattled with doubt and an unfurling thread of horror as he stares at his two best friends.

It isn't until he perches his feather-fans above his head like an unwinding crown of shell-pink plumage to halo all around him that he finally ends his little act, muscles strained and tight as he grins brightly, applause and cheers erupting around the stage. Hyunjin collects his tips gracefully, far more withheld and timid than he usually would be before slinking away with a thundering, uncomfortable feeling lodged in his throat.

Changbin seems to snap out of his dazed confusion once he notices him making his way across the main area, offering him his robe as Hyunjin pointedly snatches it from his hands, slipping it on carelessly as he starts walking toward the staircase.

Changbin seems to notice his soured mood and though Hyunjin isn't quite sure if he manages to put two and two together, the sudden loud screech resounding from behind them certainly doesn't improve it by any means.

Jisung gives Changbin an all too deafening greeting and clap on the back, his eyes slightly unfocused and movements sloppy. Chan stands right next to them, expression far away and distant as he stares at him.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes immediately, fighting the urge to recoil away in disgust, the stench of alcohol practically wafting off of them in tides. Changbin, rattled and mortified, only blinks rapidly with wide eyes.

Then, as if the uncoiling dread spiraling through his gut wasn't enough, Chan suddenly leans in to say, voice way too loud and slurred, "Jisung was right, you're even hotter than your pictures."

Hyunjin narrows his eyes in one quick, sharpened glare toward Changbin, heart pounding viciously through his chest. "Pictures?"

Changbin looks so caught off guard Hyunjin would've felt sorry for him had it not been for the simmering rage choking on his insides. He starts to shake his head adamantly, opening his mouth to say something before Jisung abrasively cuts him off.

"From that magazine!" He yells, body swaying slightly back and forth, eyes buzzing with unrestrained energy. "You were amazing in it. Total jerk off material."

Hyunjin does, recoil, at that, mouth dropping open as he sneers. "Excuse me?"

Chan turns to Jisung as he shakes his head, words dismayed and disappointed. Hyunjin thinks he looks one second away from falling over. "You have no tact bro."

Changbin only stares up at him in horror, mouth opening and closing in bafflement.

Jisung, seemingly unfazed by any of their words, only leans in closer, expression emboldened as if suddenly invigorated by something. "I have a question!" Hyunjin takes two steps up the staircase, repulsed by their sudden proximity. "Why do you charge extra for all the feathers and shit? And what was the deal with that martini glass? You know everybody's just looking at your ass anyway."

Hyunjin doesn't say anything, hot, sizzling flares snaking their way up his stomach as he swallows something teeming with disillusionment harshly down his throat. He feels gutted, he thinks, punctured by something cold-blooded as Jisung turns to Changbin, grin arrogant and goading. "Am I right or what?"

Changbin says nothing still, face drained of any color as he stutters helplessly, eyes bulging as they stare up at Hyunjin, mortified and shocked. Chan only gives Jisung a chastising, pointed "Dude," eyes spinning around as if taking in where they are for the first time in dumbfounded astonishment.

Hyunjin can feel something ugly and disfigured begin to cradle his chest, jaw clenching furiously as he crosses his arms, seeds of betrayal billowing brutally through his bones.

Jisung as it seems, remains undeterred and unaware of anything but his own crude enthusiasm, turning back to him as he scans him up and down. "Don't get me wrong, I love my man over here but you are so out of his league." He laughs, gaze leering and degrading as he not so subtly checks him out. "Seriously how much did he pay to-"

"Jisung, shut the fuck up!" Changbin turns angrily toward him then, voice booming and clear for the first time as his expression contorts into one of unchained rage.

Jisung stumbles back slightly then, momentarily perplexed at the sudden aggression before throwing both his hands up in mock surrender, grin immature and cocky still. He cranes his neck back toward Hyunjin, as if bound by the sudden need to explain himself. "Hey, I get it, I paid a shit ton just to see you bend over and it was totally worth it. Can't even imagine how much I'd pay to-"

"Okay, get the fuck out right now!" Changbin yells, grabbing onto the front of Jisung's shirt in a tight, white-knuckled fist, pushing him back and leading him to the direction of the entrance. Jisung looks completely bewildered, futilely trying to get Changbin to release his shirt. "What? It's a compliment bro!"

"Shut the fuck up before I punch you in the face," Changbin grits out, voice steely and furious and Jisung, as dazed and intoxicated as he is, seemingly gets the message, eyes shining with sudden fear.

Chan stumbles after them in bewilderment, not at all caught up in what just happened and Hyunjin only stares in a brewing, murderous venom as they disappear amongst the swarm of people, turning on his heel sharply and walking up the staircase with a screeching, painful rumble of his heart.

He blinks furiously as he makes his way inside the dressing room, chest hot and aching as he snatches off his heels and throws them against the floor, throat swallowing repeatedly as if trying to bury the hurling throbs creeping their way up his sternum.

For a second he feels like a child again, pitiful and cornered in cobweb-shadowed loneliness, flesh tearing itself repeatedly of the needled pinprick of foolish, irresponsible illusions withering right before his eyes. He flings it off immediately, stupid, stupid, child believing in things he shouldn't.

The sudden noise of the door wringing itself open rattles him out of his stupor, Changbin walking in without even knocking, face pinched in distress and panic. Hyunjin wants to spit in his face and yet he feels humiliated by his own fury. "I'm so sorry about Jisung, he can be such an ass sometimes-"

Hyunjin cuts him off, shooting him a tight, mocking smile, as he heatedly rips the robe off of his shoulders and stuffs it into his gym bag. His tongue burns as he speaks. "Don't worry, I get it. You bragged to your friends about me and they wanted to come get a little taste."

Changbin reels back at that, expression mortified once more as his eyes bulge in shock. "I-what?!"

Hyunjin only breathes out a short, humorless string of laughter, hands untying his corset with a frantic, vigorous speed. "Well I hope I lived up to the hype."

Changbin stares at him in horror, face contorting into something pained and desperate as he inches his way closer. "That's not at all what happened, I didn't know they were gonna come here." He looks around erratically, frenzied in the search for Hyunjin to understand him. "I didn't want them to come here!"

Hyunjin steps out of the pearled ringlets hanging down his waist, dragging them down his legs with far too little care for their intricacies, the urge to fling them against the wall surging through him with each second.

He shoots Changbin a vicious glare once they're off, crossing his arms as his irritation begins to unwind. "Oh please, you brag to your pathetic virgin friend about fucking a stripper and expect him not to come here and act a fool?"

Changbin's expression turns into something alarmed and anguished all at the same time. "No, I didn't because I never bragged." Hyunjin only scoffs, Changbin's eyes downturned and desperate at his reaction. "I would never do that!"

Hyunjin drags off his tiny shorts angrily, mind buzzing as he tries not to seethe. "But you told them about me, didn't you?"

Changbin seems momentarily taken aback by the fact that he's suddenly wearing nothing but his underwear and harshly stuffing his clothes into his gym bag, but rids himself of it immediately with the shake of his head, eyes insistent and determined as he speaks. "Yeah because they're my closest friends and I came to them asking for advice. I didn't know Jisung was going to be such a dumbass about it!"

"Advice?" Hyunjin snorts, pulling on his sweater before narrowing his eyes sharply. "Don't make me laugh."

Changbin seems adamant then, voice pooling in a sense of resoluteness. "Yes, advice, because you're so hot and cold and I don't know what to do because I-" he falters, words withering down the drain as he stares at Hyunjin with something pained and hesitant holding him back.

Hyunjin glares at him expectantly. "You what?"

Changbin only takes a deep breath, eyes cast to the side before flitting back up to him, uncertainty rippling through his eyes and yet his words carry only the conviction of an impassioned, cradled faith. "I like you."

Hyunjin stares back, momentarily bewildered, threads ignited by something foolish and burning but he strangles that wretched child in the corner before it gets the chance to start running. "Yeah right." He laughs, the sound cruel and wicked as it reverberates throughout the room. "You like the sex."

Changbin shakes his head, eyes swarming in earnest, confident strips of religion. "No, I like you. Not just the sex."

Hyunjin rips his gaze away immediately, anger bubbling back to life as he pulls on his yoga pants, heart hammering uncomfortably against his chest. "If this is your strategy to get me into bed again you really picked the wrong method because that shit does not work on me."

"What-" Changbin gives him an exasperated look. "This isn't some game. Are you not hearing what I'm saying?"

Hyunjin walks briskly toward his vanity desk, running his hand through his hair in the mirror before he starts packing away his makeup items, fingers shaking as he tries not to let his irritation ruin his meticulous system. "You don't like me, please."

Changbin steps up next to him then, staring at him intently. Hyunjin refuses to look at him. "You can't tell me how I feel."

He laughs, tying his hair up as he walks back toward his gym bag, zipping it up harsher than he intends to. "Alright well, good luck with that. Tell me how it works out."

Changbin sighs, shaking his head as a self-assured smirk makes its way across his face. "Well in that case." He walks closer, Hyunjin's hold on his gym bag tightening with every little step. "You like me too."

Something unnerved and fluttery slinks its way down his gut, Changbin's assertive and collected gaze grating against his skin. He huffs out a mocking, disbelieving laugh. "What?"

Changbin's smirk only widens, his faces only inches from his own. "I know you like me too."

Hyunjin glares at him, eyes narrowed and snide. "Arrogant much?"

Changbin raises an eyebrow, firmness unwavering still. "Stubborn much?"

"Very," he grits out, side-stepping him briskly as he walks out the door, gym bag strapped around his shoulder as he tries desperately to swallow the pounding in his chest. Changbin follows him instantly, closing the door as he trails after him through the corridor.

"If you're hoping I'll get tired chasing after you, you're wrong. I don't mind it actually," he says, breath tingling from where it fans across his skin. Hyunjin pointedly ignores him, steps hurried and buzzing. "And I know you like me."

Hyunjin laughs then, picking up his pace as Changbin tries to catch up. "In your dreams."

"Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten so upset that I supposedly bragged to my friends about sleeping with you."

Hyunjin stops in his tracks abruptly, turning around to face him as Changbin continues, voice firm and determined. "If I was just some random guy you wouldn't have cared right? You probably would've just laughed it off, am I wrong?"

His throat prickles uncomfortably, something oddly feathered and devoid of leaden weight strumming through his stomach. Hyunjin glares at him. "You're infuriating."

Changbin only grins, crossing his arms as his eyes flickering with amusement. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong," Hyunjin smiles back mockingly, skin needlelike and shivering against his bones. "And deluded. Good night."

Changbin nods at that, confident smirk falling into of one a pacified contentment, arms dropping back to the side in sudden surrender. "Okay, fine. I'll leave you alone then."

Struck by surprise, Hyunjin blinks at him for a few seconds, frustration seeping through his veins at the kernels of disappointment that begin to rattle. "Fine," he says, voice strange as he tries not to let it falter.

Changbin smiles, calmly and indifferent. "Good."

"Good!" Hyunjin wants to kick himself for the intensity with which his words stumble, ridged around the edges with poorly-concealed exasperation.

Changbin's grin comes flickering back in an instant, eyes skimming with amusement as they glide across him. "Why are you so mad, I thought you got what you wanted?"

"I- " Hyunjin shoots him a scowl, explanations dying at the back of his throat, his stomach swooping in uncomfortable flutters. His body clatters in frustration. "Do you ever shut up?"

Changbin raises an eyebrow then, their faces much closer than Hyunjin remembered them being, smirk cocky and entirely too satisfied. Hyunjin's gut burns. He isn't sure whether he wants to douse the flames in water or in gasoline. "I know a way you can make me shut up."

Hyunjin grits his teeth, skin scorching as he tries not to let himself become consumed by greedy, rotten thoughts not allowed in the light. "You're so-" Changbin's eyes sear themselves against his flesh, insides blistering and oppressive from the lack of splashes to soothe them with.

"So what?" Changbin asks, grin teasing as Hyunjin's back hits the wall once he inches his way closer, his stomach coiling in the all too familiar thrum of desire.

"Annoying," he seethes before roughly grabbing his face and slotting it against his own, lips passionate and desperate as Changbin responds with far too much earnest, Hyunjin soaking it up as if having been barren and thirsted for years.

He tangles his fingers through his hair, Changbin gripping onto his waist firmly as he pushes his tongue into his mouth, ravenous, aching for something to devour. Hyunjin welcomes it eagerly, leg sliding up to his waist as Changbin wraps his hand around it, holding it in place and pressing him further into the wall.

Hyunjin thinks he can feel his own delirium as it unravels along with the friction between them, mind far, far away and drenched in explosions of stardust and bliss, his gut blazing with hunger, with need. Changbin pulls his face away from his for a second to breathe, eyes enraptured as he stares into him.

"Your place?" Hyunjin pants, fingers impatient as they skim along his shirt.

Changbin exhales heavily, gaze still slightly unfocused as he tries to put together any words. "My mom is sleeping over. To watch Jia."

Hyunjin fists the front of the fabric of his shirt tightly, lips pouting as he pulls him even closer. "Why aren't they at her place?"

Changbin seems too engrossed in studying his face to answer immediately, a short tuft of laughter escaping his lips once he seems to realize what he'd asked. "Jia's grown attached to the new My Little Pony bedding I got her. Won't leave the house now."

Hyunjin's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "A what?"

"Never mind that," Changbin breathes, attaching his lips onto his neck before he can register it happening, hard, passioned kisses trailing down his skin as Hyunjin's hands fly straight back to entangle themselves in his hair.

"What about your place?" Changbin whispers, in between kisses as his lips skim right beneath his jaw. Hyunjin bites his lip, seeds of uncertainty barreling through his mind in a slow, bumbling speed. He never takes anyone to his own place.

Hyunjin's eyes squeeze shut as soon as Changbin moves back to his neck, sucking and imprinting himself onto his flesh in a way that leaves him reeling, shaky moan fluttering from his mouth as he breathes out heavily. "Fine, fine."

His thoughts dilute into empty drops of nothingness as Changbin leads him outside the club, skin the tingling wasteland of something bumpy and unwilling to be glossed over as he stops in front of his motorcycle, turning back to face him, a helmet outstretched in his hands.

"I brought two," he says, and Hyunjin doesn't answer, only places the helmet on top of his head as he mounts the bike right after Changbin, hands wrapping themselves around his stomach as the engine revs to life.

The ride is short, short and fast as they accelerate through the brightly-spattered roads of endless entwinement, colors blurring against his vision, sounds whirring past his ears before he has the chance to even try and catch them. Hyunjin's stomach burns, the leering, greedy coils of something eager to come undone tightening and folding along with the crests of his flesh, painful and thrilling and so so good.

Then something comes breaching at the seams inside of him, a small, withering crack not big enough for him to notice without the way it aches from deep down in his marrow. Hyunjin's glad Changbin can't see him, even with the veil of the helmet.

His hands' clutch in front of him hardens for a second, just slightly. He doesn't know why, hopes Changbin doesn't notice. Something strangely leaden with fear skates along beside them then, too close, too close but not close enough to bump into the wheels, turn the path shaky as they drive. Hyunjin swallows, pinching his eyes shut. It isn't the speed he's afraid of.

He can sense their arrival before he can see it, the familiar fumes of exhaust and pulverizing air freshener, the lingering promise of bruised knees and weary bones, sleeplessness and solitude. Not tonight, Hyunjin thinks, as he teasingly drags Changbin by the finger through the building, into the elevator, onto his lips. Not tonight.

Changbin kisses him with the same swells of a flaring passion that he always does, steady and untamed all at the same time, giving, giving, giving. Hyunjin takes and takes even though he doesn't know how to, letting strong, taut fingers ghost along his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, anywhere, anywhere, Hyunjin doesn't mind really, aches and burns all over with the sorrow of untouched skin.

The elevator ride is too short, he thinks, too short, too precious as it signals their arrival along with a long trail of saliva bridged between their lips. Hyunjin breaks it in two, mischievous grin etching its way onto his face as he leads him down the hallway, unlocking the door hastily and switching on the lights.

Changbin follows him right behind, his hand fluttering on the lower part of his back. Hyunjin doesn't know why, wants to shove it away, wants to wrap it tightly around his neck instead. He doesn't, says nothing, just takes off his shoes with a rumbling sense of anticipation, something shiny and murky and clouded with things he can't discern brewing in the distance, ready, eager even, to knock him out cold.

Changbin repeats his movements, taking off his shoes and placing them somewhat carelessly against his own, neatly-lined ones. It isn't until he bends back up again that he seems to take in his surroundings, his eyes widening immediately as they buzz around.

Hyunjin glares at him sternly, familiar seeds of doubt doubling back to life. "Don't touch anything."

Changbin turns to him amazed, small laughter rising from his throat. "Holy shit this place is clean. You really weren't kidding when you said you clean it every day."

Hyunjin crosses his arms, eyes narrowing sharply. "Did you think I was dirty?"

Changbin only raises an eyebrow at that, teasing smirk threatening to spill across his lips. Hyunjin swats his shoulder. "Not like that."

Changbin's eyebrows furrow in confusion, mouth drooping slightly. "I'm confused at what you're referring to. I think I need you to show me."

"Idiot." Hyunjin bites back a smile, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, Changbin complying gladly as he drags him to his bedroom, closing the door firmly shut behind them.

Changbin scans his room rapidly as if eager to finally get a glimpse into his little cavern of shadowed curtains and yet Hyunjin hardly think there's anything in there that could allude to his own existence. Good. He doesn't need strings of soil to begin trailing along his polished floorboards.

"Sit," he orders, instructing Changbin to the edge of his bed, his own legs placed around Changbin's as he lowers himself onto his lap, hands wrapped around his neck as he feels the unwavering touch of more solid ones slither around his waist.

Changbin looks up at him then, post-shift, in his sweats, hair tied up, his eyes glinting with something Hyunjin wants to both wrangle to dust and dive head first into all at the same time. "You're so-"

Hyunjin shuts him up with a fervent kiss, Changbin's hold on him tightening in immediate response, accepting each push and pull with deep-consuming earnest as Hyunjin starts rocking back and forth, electric wires whirring in surplus between their tongues.

Then, because Changbin starts to slide his hands beneath his shirt, Hyunjin pulls away abruptly, sweet, teasing smile on his face as he retreats, walking backward toward his closet. "Wait here."

Changbin only looks at him dazedly, hands reeling, he supposes, from getting used to their sudden inability to mold honeyed clay against his own. "What-"

Hyunjin cuts him off, grabbing what he needs from his wardrobe and walking slowly to his bathroom, smirk playful and mischievous as he shoots him an alluring look. "I'll be right back."

He rids himself of his plainness within the confines of walls that have seen far too many of his rifts, stripping off his pants, his sweatshirt, fingers running ritually through his hair as he lets it fall back onto his shoulders, fingers steady as they retouch his makeup in the mirror. He tries not to let his eyes linger too much on his reflection, unwilling to let them sear themselves with what they might find.

Hyunjin knows he looks irresistible like this, hazy rays of enticing dreams glazed upon his skin, moonlit fantasies to indulge in when all else feigns sleep, shy away from the sun, obsess over in the murky shadows of tight, blistering grips.

He steps out of the bathroom, stockings and garter like water against his legs, smoothened and in creases to the touch, the black, waist-tied robe in canvasses of silk as he lets them fall temptingly off his shoulders, wispy pools of dark-swathed illusions to bless him with.

Changbin looks at him as if submerged head first into the chiffon foam of the sea, flooded, hypnotized, eyes blinded through their refusal to head back to the surface.

Hyunjin smirks as he steps toward him, coy, sensual, a glimmer of boundless obsession - Changbin follows his every movement like a sailor in search of catch, waiting, brewing with the anticipation of at last casting his net and for once Hyunjin thinks, runaway and bared upon the horizon, he longs to get caught.

He slinks over to his wardrobe, fingers skimming along the balmy plumes of two white feather fans as he spins around, Changbin idle and tense upon the edge of his bed, face drawn in religious awe, too real, too real.

Nothing's real beneath the flutters of stage lights, a story, a fantasy, something gritty and enthralling to possess yourself with. Here, in the spindly corners of his ill-lit bedroom, he's beginning to think it could be.

Hyunjin places both plumes against his back, wafting them gently back and forth, a bird on the prowl for something to land upon, legs one in front of the other, slow, teasing, lips dancing with the wicked birth of a smirk.

"What's happening?" Changbin asks, voice weak, stifled perhaps by the salt water plunging through him.

"Did you think the show was over?" Hyunjin lifts an eyebrow just slightly, voice low and soft and thrumming with danger. He twirls one of the fans above his head, feet inching toward the bed, heart strung in threads aflame.

His eyes flit down to catch Changbin's, immersed and drowned, ready for certain death. Hyunjin's smirk widens. He leans down then, feathers tickling the skin of Changbin's neck as he stretches his hand around it, the other creeping up his thigh, his own gaze hooded and murderous.

"Did you know how many private shows I had to do today?" His lips pout as he speaks, body drooping and slinking onto his lap, the one feathered fan discarded to the side as his hand trails up higher.

Changbin swallows, eyes flickering up and down his face in search of something Hyunjin doesn't think he'll ever be able to understand. "Six," he says, eventually, once he realizes he's waiting for an answer.

Hyunjin hums, grazing the edges of his pretty, pearl-colored plumes down his jaw, the hand on his thigh tightening momentarily. Changbin twitches, he isn't sure from which. His voice drops into a silvery whisper. "Of course you'd know. You were right there on the other side of the door, weren't you?"

Changbin nods, his muscles moving just barely, gaze cloudless, starlit. Hyunjin wants to crumble them to dust.

"Tell me." His lips fan against his ear, breath poisonous through his famined tongue. "What were you thinking then, alone and waiting for me to finish?" Muscles go rigid beneath his touch, waiting, yearning.

Hyunjin smirks, pulling away as he slots the abandoned feather fan back in his hand, feet light as they shimmer across the floor. He casts Changbin a coy, misty look, plumes gliding gracefully across his own shoulder, shrouding the tugging of his lips. "Did you wish it was you, in there?"

Changbin says nothing then, sailor overboard he imagines, eyes trailing along to every thread of fluttering wings as he twists them around, bewitched, entranced, by the siren lurking beneath black rocks and oil-spilled, tar-mangled waters.

"Have you ever imagined having me like this?" He asks, mind whirring, dizzy from the drought. He places both the feathers behind his back, flicking them up and down as he places one leg in front of the other, sensual, torturous.

"Just for you and no one else?" He slinks toward the bed, perching one leg right next to Changbin's thigh, his gaze landing upon it instantly. "In your dreams perhaps?"

Changbin rips his eyes away from his stocking-graced thigh, staring up at him unbound by hazy, jungly fog, ignited all the same by low, rumbling flames of cinder. "I don't think you realize what you do to me."

The words slither into his ears like itchy, gentle kisses to poke him from the inside. Perhaps Changbin is not as chained by the spells he casts as he'd thought. "Mm, that's not what I asked you." Hyunjin looks him down, playful smirk flickering across him in satisfaction. Perhaps there were no spells at all.

"Yes," Changbin answers, voice low and drawn out as if afraid they might come tumbling out with things not meant to be heard. "Yes I have."

"Have what?" Hyunjin teases, placing both fans to the side and moving his leg onto his lap, inching it upward, testing, testing, how he'll play what he isn't so sure is a game anymore.

Changbin touches his leg, fingers smooth against the softness of his stocking, eyes trailing along each finely curved muscle of his skin as if witnessing something diamond-cut and precious, cherished jewels of the earth.

"Thought about it," he says, at last, gaze landing back up to look at him. Hyunjin feels like the breath winding through his throat disappears entirely. He tilts his head, curious, ravenous. "You just 'thought' about it? That's all?"

Changbin grips his leg then, firmly, a lifeline perhaps, Hyunjin doesn't know, only feels the scorching imprints of his fingers sear themselves against his thigh like ruptured constellations to blind him with.

"You told me that you dance to haunt me." His eyes swim with the puncture of the flood, overspilling, heavy, dense, crashing into him with the force of the cosmos. "You're like a shadow. Always there, always beyond my reach." He hooks a hand beneath his thigh, the other against his lower back.

Hyunjin succumbs to his grip, snaking his way into his lap. "You haunt me in my sleep. During the day, during the night." Changbin reaches forward, tucks a loose strand of hair behind his hear. Hyunjin thinks his ears are ringing to the point of bursting, yet he ears everything, loud and clear, gutted. Hallowed. "There you are, like some ghost, trying to make me just as dead."

"You think I'm killing you?" He breathes out, stomach sinking and sinking and he doesn't know where it's headed, refuses to look. Changbin laughs at that, low and short, face brimming still with the spillage of sincerity.

"Hyunjin," he says, smile dropping all of the sudden, hands unyielding against his waist, the small, insignificant distance between them like a blistering current in his way. "You don't have a shotgun in your hand, you are the shotgun."

Hyunjin leans in as much as he can, fingers grazing along his chest, the silken robe in waterfalls across his shoulders. "You're just gonna let me shoot you then?"

Changbin smirks, eyebrow lifting just slightly. Hyunjin knows what that means, can feel it within the own warming embers crackling in his gut, roping and consuming their way around his bones, squeezing the dirt-ridden blood of his veins tightly, tightly, so so tightly until they come spilling over in downpours of wickedness.

"Fire away princess," Changbin says and it's really all it takes for him to strike, crashing his lips onto his in a starved, fuming hunger, clawing and moaning along to the barrel splintering through the metallic brittleness of his heart.

Changbin grips onto him as if afraid shadows can come slipping through his fingers should he let them, flipping them over as Hyunjin's back hits the mattress, mind static and glorious as they discard themselves of unnecessary fabrics, like sticky sheets of something unbearable against his skin, yes he'd much rather let the coolness of a faint echo and fluttering kisses clasp onto him instead, hot, drenching engravings of a passion-stained mouth.

Then, because for once he feels nothing but desperate, outreaching pulses of being carved exactly like this, Changbin turns him to the side, chest against his back, hand hooked beneath his leg as he raises it, hold firm and steadfast like the rough, spiritual ploughing of the sea and plummets into cold waters head first, Hyunjin's lips but a pretty, painted bloodbath of cerulean ripples as they spill and spill and spill raptured lamentations on the altar.

Hyunjin knows he was raised a certain way, dipped within the muddied waters of religion, tongue numb and sodden after prayer, mind dulled by tedious sermons, flesh desperate, aching for a strip, a taste, a pinprick really, of something holy, anguished for the grace of salvation, anything, anything, something to believe in, something to make him worthy, something to tear with his own flesh without the rotten decay that would come after.

Hyunjin knows now of course that such fallacies are laced purely with blinded foolishness, tiring, pitiful desperation of something to worship and yet now, plunged within the sin of the flesh, tarnished and beautiful, he feels, for the first time, that sliver he had long been depraved of. Mouth parted open in blissful, undisciplined sounds, eyes blown wide, streaked with sacred faith, body barren and stripped and molded with rightful touches - Hyunjin believes in religion, just for a second.

Changbin lifts his leg even higher then, the angle rendering his eyes tumbled and blackened as they roll to the back of his head, each fiber and thread of his chest undone entirely, unraveled by hands he's let imprint themselves onto his mind far too many times now, vision swimming as golden brushstrokes of divinity-woven wallpapers streak across in showers, shooting stars of something that should be knee-deep and aching in prayer.

Hyunjin feels holy like this, worshipped, torn apart to pieces and gently put back together again and he wants to keep his eyes spinning and landing on everything and nothing at the same time for the rest of his murky, shadow-borne life and yet he needs it to be real, this time he does, phantoms and illusions of stage lights and his own spilling sacrilege like scalding iron to murder him with and so he opens them, stills them with all the force still left in him, casts them like asteroids towards Changbin, hovering over his shoulder, just as torn apart and gutted, just as glorified and blessed.

Hyunjin stretches his finger to wrap themselves around Changbin's wrist, the one firm and euphoric under his leg, guiding it to his lips as he pushes a finger in. Changbin looks at him momentarily confused, linings of outer space frightened by the force of blundering, destructive rocks in its wake and yet it all comes unwoven as Hyunjin begins to suck, dedicated, reverent, a practice of pious godliness, suck, suck, suck the sacramental bread, body of Christ, flesh of the Holy, realm of pure, raptured skies, hard, hard, hard, Hyunjin never closes his eyes then, real yes, so so real, Changbin is already buried in salvation, buried alive and with lungs of sweet, wet, stones of the earth.

How could his church condemn such honeyed tastes of paradise, bitter around the edges, salt against his tongue, sugar in his marrow, addicting and soiled, fruits ripened for the taking, rotten core like syrup to feast upon, at least for the night, castaway and protected by the secrets of a moon close by, sinuous trails of crumbs to grasp onto for the rest of your life, sun-soaked and withered.

Hyunjin pities the devout, those who do not understand the true thorn-riddled pathways of heaven, like this, like this, ruined and godly, fallen and divine, ethereal for one moment, otherworldly perhaps, feet caught between feathered fire and brimstones and the blistering billows of cloudy roots.

Changbin keels over along with the unbending rhythms of their perfume scented blasphemy, pray altar boy, Hyunjin thinks, pray on your knees, flesh bruised from the marble, exhausted, enlightened, ready to do it all over again with the flick of a finger, and then hands are back to worshipping him, ritualistically, heavenly, unscrewing each nail with a simple touch and maybe he isn't so sure who he's talking about anymore, his whines like cursed whispers in the wind, he doesn't know if anyone can hear him, maybe everyone can, real, real, too real, his vision turns white, small glimpse of somewhere he's sure he won't be let in, flesh burning and lungs on fire, crucified he thinks, for his sins, limbs spread apart as his ecstasy becomes him, he doesn't mind, doesn't mind, would do it all over again, yes he would, and if reaching ephemeral paradise means draining himself of everything, he'll fall empty to the pits of dust and blood like a ragdoll deserted by the porch.

Ebb away into nothingness, waiting, waiting, for someone to pick him up and play with him again.

His body goes limp then, eyes fluttering shut, head drooping, drooping, drooping, headfirst in descension, fallen from grace? Or fallen from illusion, perhaps, yes, the midnight constellations are far different from stage lights than he'd originally thought.

 

-

 

Hyunjin's never lived in a home before. A house yes, but not a home. He thinks the rutted corners of the streets might even come closer than the peeling walls of his crumbling, desert-town sandcastle. But not by much, no.

His skin is filthy now, filthier and grimier than ever. Less rotted perhaps, but the realization does nothing to placate the searing blades of panicked desperation that slice through him day after day, the sun unbearable against his skin from the lack of a roof to hide beneath.

His money's run out by now, his stomach falling to pits of hunger even unbeknownst to him from years and years of eluding sleep in the wake of a clenching pain surging through his gut. His vision is almost always more blurred than not, head dizzy, limbs weak. He's tried begging a few times, but the pitiful glances and blank-faced, up-turned noses as if he doesn't even exist leave a bitter, insufferable taste of anger in his mouth.

Shoplifting is easier, he finds, but he never dares take more than a packaged sandwich or a bag of gummy bears in fear of getting caught. He doesn't know what the police will do with him should they start asking questions. Everybody asks too many questions, he thinks.

He's tried applying to jobs, easy, shitty jobs, willing to take anything really just so he can buy a fucking bottle of water but they all dismiss him with the simple wave of a hand once they realize he has no ID, no bank account, not even a measly little address and the fact that he smells like a dumpster probably does nothing to help his case either.

He refuses to eat from them, not yet, no, no, no he can't, he can't go near the dumpsters. His skin crawls at the mere thought, mouth gagging and nails scraping against the inside of his forearms as he rocks panicked back and forth in some shrouded little corner, trying not to be seen.

The nights are the worst, long, unknowing stretches of time to torture him with, arms clinging tightly around his backpack as he tries to let his limbs fall into a reposeful embrace. He's careful to charge his phone during the days, slipping into fast food chains and drumming his fingers impatiently as he hopes not to get kicked out.

He needs to know what time it is, of course he does, because even though sleep is already tainted with paranoia and fear of being snuck up on, he still can't sleep until 3AM and he doesn't have that stupid fucking digital clock to blind him with anymore.

Sometimes he's let into shelters, when they have enough space. Hyunjin appreciates the rickety beds despite how much they make his back ache. It's better than the concrete anyway, but he never stays more than a few days on end. There are too many social workers lingering around and Hyunjin refuses to be sent back, he won't!

He comes to learn that sleep and food are luxuries he cannot afford, has never been able to afford really and what does he have to drain himself of to finally see them within his reach, he doesn't know, doesn't know, but what he does know is that cleanliness is the one shimmering jewel he needs to afford, needs needs needs to before his flesh becomes anymore bug-infested than it already is.

Filling paper cups with water in a frenzied speed beneath the flickering lightbulb of a McDonald's restroom and scrubbing himself desperately just isn't enough.

He needs to find a way to make money, something easy, something quick. During the night he catches burning, swift glances of people slithering through the shadows, hardly dressed, eyes lidded with rashes of decaying, moth-clipped wings eager to smolder their corpses to cinder.

He thinks he sees those same eyes day after day in the reflection of grimy, shattered mirrors. Hyunjin diverts his gaze then, a sick feeling swiveling down his throat. He'll find something else.

The promise tastes ashen upon the ridges of his tongue.

 

-

 

Hyunjin doesn't know what to expect when he wakes up the following morning, body stirring alive in a strange sense of cotton-mouthed restlessness, something satisfied yet aching thrumming through his bones.

The curtains are parted just slightly, strips of sunlight filtering through his white linen sheets, bed tangled and messy as his eyes adjust to the brightness, the reminder of his solitude oddly unnerving all of the sudden.

Then, as if nervous for some reason, small seeds of panic beginning to brew, he looks down, finds himself wearing nothing but his black, silk robe, skin sweaty and itchy. His legs are sticky, he finds, Hyunjin almost vomits and runs to the bathroom right there and then. He never falls asleep after sex, what the fuck?!

But yes, he remembers, fingers combing furiously through his hair as he tries to compose himself in the mirror, he had fallen asleep that one time, he'd cursed Changbin up and down for the morning that had followed for days to come.

Hyunjin swallows, the door to his bedroom opened just slightly, memories of kindled nights pushing themselves up against his eyelids so harshly his vision almost blanks. Carefully he slides on a pair of underwear, wiping off any remnants of makeup he has on, brushes his teeth vigorously and makes sure he doesn't smell, tying the robe around him almost shieldingly, feet timid as they step across the floorboards to his own living room.

He doesn't know why a leaden sense of relief floods through him at the fact that Changbin is there, standing in his kitchen, back to him as he seems to be inspecting his fridge with puzzled intent.

Hyunjin clears his throat, marching over as his arms cross each other, stomach brimming with agitation. He doesn't need anybody touching his system. Changbin spins around immediately, grin forming itself easily the second it lands on him. Hyunjin only raises an eyebrow. "Looking for something?"

Changbin shrugs, inching closer to him. Hyunjin refuses to let his own stance waver. "I thought it would be nice to make you some eggs...you know, since you didn't get to eat them last time."

He tilts his head, teasing smile ghosting across his lips. "Why, 'cause your scrambled eggs are so magical?"

Changbin's grin widens, nodding in severity. "Some would say so, yes." His expressions twists then, falling into one of intrigued bewilderment. "Although, are you sure I'm the one with a kid and not you?"

Hyunjin frowns, blinking up at him in skepticism. "What?"

Changbin's amusement only seems to grow at the perplexed gaze he's shooting him, small smile back and threatening to spill over as his eyes flit him over. "Why do you just have like...kid's food and nothing else?"

"Huh?" His eyebrows draw together at that, lips pouting slightly. What the fuck is he talking about?

Changbin gestures to his fridge as if that will somehow explain everything, his expression beginning to turn just as baffled as his own. "Your pantry too, is just...cereal and crackers."

Hyunjin's eyes widen at that, heart clenching painfully for a brief moment, panic overcoming him in waves of dread. "You went through my pantry?!"

Changbin looks entirely lost by now, voice faltering just slightly as if trying to imagine what Hyunjin's tongue is about to spew next. "I just looked yes."

Hyunjin doesn't care, barreling over to his cupboards as he opens them, frustrated sigh escaping him immediately once he notices, because how could he not, the slight disarray of his carefully placed, meticulously categorized groceries! "I thought I told you not to touch anything!"

Changbin only stares at him, lines streaked with humorous disbelief. "I thought that was a joke-"

His voice drowns out into static ringing against his ear as Hyunjin starts to rearrange, fingers sturdy and determined as they carefully move each incorrectly placed item and really, he should just re-place them all, regardless of whether Changbin touched them or not because how can he know for sure, how can he really know that it'll be right if he only does a few, and yes, it's better like that he'll just do them all, it won't even take him that long and why on earth would anybody place that cereal next to that bag of popcorn, it doesn't make any sense whatsoever-

"What are you-"

He whips his head to the side, sharpened glare like fire as it plunges through Changbin's all too curious expression. "I have a system, okay? A system you messed up so now I have to fix it."

"I-"

"Please be quiet." He turns his head back to the pantry, stomach tight once again in knots that will only come undone once he's finished, once he knows the items in his cupboards are placed right, that they make sense, and really what's wrong with people, he doesn't barge into someone else's kitchen and start touching things, no, no, no, and think of the germs, oh God he didn't think of that, maybe he should wipe off each package carefully, he doesn't know now which ones Changbin touched, why the fuck does he care, Changbin can touch him but not his boxes of cereal, no, but he can't, can't touch him either without him showering and why hasn't he showered yet, what is he waiting for exactly, oh yes Changbin is still here, okay he'll just rearrange everything now and wipe them off later, yes maybe Changbin would think he's rude if he started doing that, as if his hands are any more tainted than his own, okay he'll do it later then, only a few more packages left, that one obviously has to go in the back and then the red one in the front, not that close to each other, not that far apart either, okay yes, perfect, just like that, his chest loosens slightly.

"There," he says, satisfied smile inching itself across his face as he turns around, Changbin staring at him with rapid, blinking eyes teetering somewhere between far too entertained and completely dumbfounded. Hyunjin's smile drops, gaze narrowing sharply. "What?"

Changbin grins, eyeing him as if seeing him beneath the bright casted lights of day for the first time. It feels a lot more daunting then he'd imagined, Hyunjin thinks, claws ready to tear against anything and yet Changbin seems to walk even closer, only fondness through his vision. "You know, my first impression of you was totally wrong. You're a lot...odder than I thought you'd be."

"Excuse me?" Hyunjin crosses his arms, weak glare directed his way.

"I like it." He grins, undeterred as usual by his cutting-edged scowls. "It's cute. Who knew someone so confident and sexy and frankly intimidating, could be so...peculiar?"

Hyunjin only narrows his eyes even more, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Those are just fancy words for calling me weird. Are you calling me a weirdo?"

"Maybe." Changbin laughs and then, within the second of a heartbeat, "But a very beautiful one."

Hyunjin swallows the small sense of weightlessness unfurling within his chest, limbs easing up just slightly. He uncrosses his arms, unsure of what to do with them. "I'm not weird, I just like things a certain way."

Changbin blinks up at him as if not believing an ounce of his words. Hyunjin huffs. "You know, clean, organized. Maybe you're the weird one for having your place be messy."

"Hey!" Changbin pouts, feigning indignation. "It's not messy."

Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, burying the rise of laughter simmering through his throat. "There were toys strewn all over."

Changbin looks at him in earnest then, expression far too serious for Hyunjin to know that it's real. "I'm just teaching Jia to pick up after herself. It's a method."

He rolls his eyes, turning back to the cupboard as he bites back a smile. "Cereal for breakfast then?"

Changbin nods, facing scrunching up all of the sudden. "Wait, but you don't have milk?"

"I like it dry," he says, grabbing the cereal box right at the front, not wanting to start filtering through his carefully arranged system once again.

"Okay you are weird," Changbin deadpans and Hyunjin just shoots him a look before finding two bowls and pouring in just the right amount with unrelenting concentration. He washes his hands thoroughly then, onetwothree, onetwothree, onetwothree-

Changbin accepts the bowl with a strange, almost humorous look on his face, expression contorting even more so once Hyunjin starts eating, picking up one flake after the one other and nibbling on them quietly. Hyunjin stops, forehead creasing at Changbin's bewilderment. "What? I promise the bowl is clean."

"Oh trust me I believe you," Changbin laughs, peering at him curiously. "You don't use a spoon?"

Hyunjin frowns. "Why would I use a spoon when there's no milk?" And then, because maybe Changbin thinks it's unsanitary, he stresses, stomach brewing with panic, "I washed my hands!"

"I know, I saw you," he says, face baffled once more but he only shakes his head to himself, copying him quietly as they eat in silence, Changbin shooting him not so subtle glances from across the kitchen counter as Hyunjin tries not to smile.

As soon as they're finished, Hyunjin grabs the bowls and cleans them right away, or else it'll be the only thing he's thinking about, hard and detailed. Changbin doesn't say anything, only walks quietly around his apartment and looks around curiously. Hyunjin is grateful.

"I didn't know you liked to read," Changbin says, once he's done, eyes peering into his bookshelf with a small hint of wonder looming in the back of his throat. Hyunjin makes his way over, heart hammering unusually fast all of the sudden. Changbin turns to him then, gentle smile across his face. "You like fairytales?"

"Oh um." Hyunjin casts a glance toward the neatly arranged spines of books on his shelf, skin prickling all of the sudden. This is why he doesn't let people into his fucking apartment. "Yeah, I guess."

"Me too," Changbin says, gazing back toward his books, biting his lip as he scans them with intrigue. "Which one's your favorite?" He turns his head back to look at him, Hyunjin blinking rapidly, his stomach plummeting for no reason at all. "I always liked Robin Hood."

"The Ugly Duckling," he answers before he can stop himself, because of fucking course he does, Changbin nodding and smiling, eyes peering into him as if he can see straight fucking through him and why the actual fuck did he think it was a good idea to open his mouth in the first place.

He laughs, the sound airy and rattled with nerves. "So uh, don't you have work-"

"Oh is this the one you're reading now?" Hyunjin's blood freezes as Changbin picks up the weathered encasing of pages he'd once hurled against the wall, black bookmark like a beacon to his vision as he eyes the title in recognition. "I've heard of this. What's it about?"

Hyunjin's stomach clenches, earing ringing all of the sudden as he tries not to let his limbs tilt over entirely. "It's uh..." his chest tightens painfully, fingernails sharp against his closed fist. "It's kind of disturbing, but um. Well-written."

Changbin only flips the book over as he reads the summary, nose scrunching in disgust the further down he lets his eyes linger and Hyunjin thinks he can feel the vomit already churning in the back of his throat, blistering his mouth in hot, repulsive bundles of pus.

"Wow. Sounds heavy," is all he says before putting it gently back as Hyunjin tries not to start dry heaving right then and there, the momentary flash of distaste upon Changbin's face like a sharp, wielding knife straight to his decaying gut.

"Oh!" Changbin says then, face lighting up as if reminded of something, glance quickly falling to the shelf right beneath his TV, a few carefully placed spines of magazines glimmering from the overhead light. "I never congratulated you on your big debut."

Dazed from the sudden whiplash, Hyunjin tries to contain the steady upheaval of nausea billowing through him. The way Changbin looks at him then, sincere, bespangled, painful illusion after painful illusion and yet too real, too real.

Hyunjin's head hurts as he tries not to let his own thoughts tangle themselves into something that'll only tear his fingers apart once he tries to undo them. Somehow he thinks they already are.

"I heard it's become a success already," Changbin grins, taking small steps toward him. Hyunjin forces himself to remain uprooted, seeds of sickness already beginning to subdue. The realization does anything to placate him. "Really, congrats. You were amazing."

"I know." Hyunjin smiles, tilting his head as he lets his voice undulate with a teasing mirth. "Your little friend already told me."

Changbin cringes instantly, eyes pooling in distress at the simple mention, mouth downturned and insistent. "I'm really sorry about that, oh my God. None of what he said is true, I hope you know that."

Hyunjin frowns, feigning offense. "Oh so you don't think my pictures are total jerk off material?"

Changbin looks entirely too flustered by now. Hyunjin tries not to laugh. "I'm not answering that. They're art, is what they are," he says quickly and then, with a speedy glance to his phone, clicks his jaw as his eyes widen slightly. "Speaking of Jisung, I am now extremely late for work."

Hyunjin watches in amusement as Changbin scrambles to get his things together, eyebrows furrowed as if looking for something before eventually giving up, one foot out the door before casting a glance his way, mouth frowning just slightly, unsure of what to do.

For a second Hyunjin thinks he might lean in and kiss him, his stomach descending in cascades at the thought, something coiling tightly within. Instead he settles on a playful smile, voice laced with adoration. "By the way, don't think you're getting out of trying my eggs. Now that I can imagine what your insides must look like, I'm on a desperate mission to save them."

Hyunjin stifles a laugh, small smile molding its way across his lips before he can stop it. Changbin visibly lights up, bidding a short goodbye before firmly going on his way. Hyunjin watches as the door closes with an unnerving sense of dread.

He blinks, the sticky, sweaty feeling from earlier creeping its way back onto his skin, burrowing within him until they're nestled into every crook and marrow like finger-soiled imprints of dirt.

Changbin isn't there anymore. He can shower now. Finally, he thinks but his stomach only hardens. The realization doesn't feel as relieving as it should.

 

-

 

Barefooted, spangled, Hyunjin's never danced in front of a crowd before. He's never danced in front of anyone except the dusty floorboards of childhood with limbs and bones too coursing with outburst to contain themselves they way they should, graceful, smoothened like billows of water.

But he's got rhythm, sensuality, this he knows, has practiced within the confines of his bedroom for years and years, moonless night after moonless night. And he's flexible. He can do the splits, lift his leg straight up to his head even. But most importantly, Hyunjin thinks, he knows how to cast spells.

Casting spells is an easy feat, a certainty he twirls around the tip of his finger like spinning honey from a jar.

Hyunjin places his phone carefully on the pavement, hiding it with the fabric of an old t-shirt. Once the charm is cast, there really isn't much to do to complete his bewitchment, pull just slightly on a couple tightly strung threads and see them ripple to captivation, up and down, up and down, eager to be rattled again.

He presses play on the little speaker, the world's worst no doubt and yet one he'd scoured to afford. It does the job, he thinks, not well but that isn't what matters. People aren't going to be listening to the music much anyway.

Besides, he has the tambourine too, nestled loosely between his fingers, hand unsteady as he starts to thrum along the drumhead, careful, precise to match each beat of the song.

Some people have started looking now, just a few. He needs to rid himself of his misgivings, needs to replace them instead with sharp jabs of incantations to bleed with, now, now, now, Hyunjin spins around swiftly, flared fabric of his wide-legged pants billowing from the movement, waistline low and hypnotic, his stomach bare, white shirt tied around his waist, spilling across his shoulders.

He's beginning to draw more eyes now, yes, yes, yes, familiar insects to an ember and he smirks then, inhibitions crumbled into small morsels of hollow chasms as he flutters along to the beat, tambourine shaking prettily in his hand, hips coiling and winding like twisting paths of enchantment, feet scorching against the concrete and yet he doesn't mind it, can't feel anything at all, skin light and tingly as he spins and shimmers around.

He's gathered quite the crowd by then, he finds out, buzzing nonbelievers all desperate for a little taste of sorcery, something to grasp onto, something to pour into. A lot of them are trained upon the taut expanse of his stomach, lean, tanned, like satin to the touch.

He should get a belly ring, he thinks, a gleaming jewel of temptation to top it off. A maraschino cherry in an old, vintage Cola glass, the stem sickly sweet and syrupy as he twirls it on his tongue.

Hyunjin casts a glance at the people watching, eyes playful and seductive, fingers unthreading the purple scarf tied around his ankle in one swift, agile flex of his leg as he skims it through his clutch, light and feathery, a gentle kiss against his skin as he loops it through the sunbaked sky.

With fiery snares to pull him up, he steps closer to his watchers, feet lithe and springy as he circles in on a man a little older than himself, eyes riveted and mesmerized as they follow his every move.

Hyunjin doesn't have to linger to carve an outline of spellwork, smile flirtatious and coy as he winds the glittering scarf around the man's neck, tugging him closer, closer, bewildered face only inches from his and then poof, he spins back away to his little stage, molded and formed by the cracks of the big city pavement and yet like this, head light and willowy and singing to a rhythm reflected in his tambourine, Hyunjin thinks it could be anything, the largest stage of the entire country, gleaming and bejeweled as it flutters iridescent not from rays of sunlight but from ropes of his own, shadowed, magnetic soul instead.

Like this he's anything but rotten, expanded upon endless whispers of movement, not thinking not thinking at all, no curses in threefold to scrape him from the inside. He's ripe and perfect like this, sweet juice of summertime plums from branches low and heavy, eager to snap off.

And this time no one's plucking him from his stem, his watchers can but do as they were born to and fall into his little trap, eyes glazed over, nostrils aflare with something fragrant and floral in the distance. Can it really be called a trap when it feels so good, just for a small, brief splinter of time, to let your soul plunge into something else for mere moments in a passing.

But Hyunjin knows this is nothing of the sort, no, not for him, not for his watchers. Even the scorching concrete, he thinks, will remember the steps of his bare, dancing feet.

He ends in a split, he finds, always in a split, legs spread and smile stretched, tambourine and scarf raised above his head as if signaling to something, what he isn't quite sure, dollar bills mounting the little bucket he's perched up front before he has the chance to even blink an eye.

Hyunjin's head swims, chest thrumming with something he's never felt before, or perhaps he had once, long, long ago before his mother squashed it to measly pulp with the simple grip of her fist. He collects it gratefully, lets a couple wandering eyes linger longer than they need to.

A woman shoots him a dirty, narrowed look. Hyunjin only laughs, winking playfully at her husband before skipping back to soot-filled corners and breaths of tight constriction.

Dancing is easy, he thinks, just as easy as casting spells, although perhaps they go hand in hand. In sleep he thinks about the next day, mind tracing the outline of his limbs as if righteous words of the Bible, night after night, aching bones after aching bones.

Hyunjin revels in the soreness, finds a satisfaction in it instead, his watchers growing and growing with each turn of the sun. As with the steady pile of money. He doesn't know what to do with it at first, keeps it safely tied to a pouch along with him everywhere he goes and yet all of the sudden the pouch is too small to contain it all. Hyunjin buys a duffel bag to help him with the storage. He can afford it now.

He can afford other things too, like checking in to motels here and there to scrub himself religiously clean, use the public laundromat, buy a slightly better speaker, white nail polish for his toes. A belly ring for his navel, even.

At a Sunday market he finds the largest necklace he can and manages to loop it around his hips. He buys a couple of bracelets too, sparkly and beaded. An ornate, floral patterned fan with letters he's seen before, but never learned how to read. The kind woman selling them gives one to him for free, she says, once he tells her his name, a knowing glint in her eye.

Hyunjin doesn't exist, he realizes, between the intervals of dreamscape and performance, stringing himself along in painful, agonizing breaths that only choke and choke and choke. And yet he does, the red claw marks on his arms like a blood curling reminder each morning he still manages to open his eyes. Perhaps he just doesn't want to.

The fan twirls mesmerizingly in between his fingers as he dances now, shrouding his face, eyes sharp and captivating right above it, inviting, tempting you to watch. To stay. To feel desire burn for the first time in all the wrong places.

Not all of his watchers are there to be enchanted as it turns out. His little display is too provocative, for many. Hyunjin didn't know there was anything provocative about showing his stomach but he supposes even for a bigger city than the one he'd grown up in, firm bounds of faith and tradition still run deep through the copper veins of southwestern roots.

Or perhaps he just shouldn't have chosen his spot so close to a church. Still, the waves of complaints come in bursting little bubbles one at a time, mostly from religious groups, some trying to save him and lend him a helping hand away from sin, most just spilling rehearsed words of poorly suppressed anger in heaps of neighborly condemnations.

One woman calls him the Devil, another actually spits in his little bucket. Hyunjin thinks it's laughable really, ignores them with a sweet, wicked smile as he continues to return, watchers growing still, by the day.

Some are fun to tease, he thinks. Especially one of those tightly wired, scuttling Mormon boys he spots like clockwork watching him from the crowd. Hyunjin approaches him one time, after he's done, poor fumbling face panicked as he starts to recite something that rings viciously against his ear. Hyunjin finishes the verse for him. The boy looks surprised, of course he is. Hyunjin wishes he didn't remember.

Did you like the show, he asks.

No, no, no, it's just temptation from the Devil.

You think I'm pretty then, he smirks. It's far too amusing creasing threads of woven lace with the mere flash of shining teeth.

He's a boy, Mormon boy says. Boys can't pretty.

Oh? What is he then, Hyunjin asks, because one swift flicker to his pants stretches his smirk wide and glorious. Sexy? Boys can be sexy, can't they?

Poor child of God, looking seconds away from passing out. Hyunjin laughs, turning on his heel as he slinks back to corners of the night where he does not exist. He loves leaving things in ruins with the small tilt of his own finger.

It's the other performance artists, he realizes, that are the real threat to his little display. It's clear they don't like him, his bending and stretching and jumping around like a magnet away from anything else, his eyes like a thief of light, the curve of his smile a beckon to attention. They've been there longer, worked harder, it's bad taste to interrupt the steady stream of the river.

Hyunjin doesn't care, returns every day, tired bones and droopy limbs uncoiling the instant the music begins to play, tambourine clattering like herding the waiting cattle trying to find its way back home. It isn't his fault the other performers can't spring forth hexes and charms with the simple crown of their flesh, alluring and elastic.

How can they say they work harder, he's been practicing during rotted, horrid excuses for years and years, they don't know how his muscles shake to the gritty pavement the minute he's done, the screaming, numbing agony searing through his head as he tries to find clean water, the sweaty, flimsy gasps of breath as he wakes up from throat-throttling nightmares beneath the leaky overhang of where he sleeps, hard, ridged, digging through his skin like thorns of religious punishment. He needs his little square to whisper incantations like pollen to a marigold.

The other street artists are relentless, he finds. Desperate, clawing talons eager to tear him apart. A police officer starts buzzing around then, asking him mindless questions as if that'll do anything to deter him from snapping open his hand-painted fan and sinking his legs down into a split.

Do you have a permit, how old are you, I need to see your ID, Hyunjin only wreathes his violet scarf around his neck and bats his eyes, smile coy and flirtatious as he spins back around, leaving him flustered and confused. Your dancing is too provocative, he continues, resolute and tedious. What an interesting way to confess to an enticement, Hyunjin thinks but he keeps his mouth shut.

Instead he turns around, tongue curling in good faith, eyes glinting with the ebbing stars he's only ever known. Poor, simple-minded masses of weakly-upheld beliefs and bearings. It isn't dancing, what he's doing. That should be obvious by now.

It's snake charming.

Notes:

whewww a lot is happening 👀 changbin finally confessing!!

and yes i did steal the martini glass idea from dita von teese, would highlyyy recommend her performances on youtube if you haven’t seen her 🫶💕 she is a burlesque legend

also from now on i will be updating every monday and thursday since there’s a lot of chapters to get through✨

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 9: Gateway to the Sun

His mind feels oddly empty as he showers, thoughts sluggish and breakable as they stumble through the molasses of his trickling brain, fingers slow as they scrub, tongue numb against the roof of his mouth.

Still the unfolding of three-leafed clovers always cultivates to ripe completion, in the end, timid and shy this time as they stretch and stretch and stretch to a painful blossom. Any remnants of Changbin's fingerprints upon his skin are washed dismally away, leaking down the drain in pitiful spirals of blood and soap as he stares, and yet the imprints on his brain remain frustratingly intact, glowing and reverberating through his exhausted little head.

Hyunjin tries not to look at himself as he rubs cream after cream upon his face, neck, collarbones, everywhere, everywhere, body moving on its own without so much as a second thought to pull him back.

Cleaning the apartment takes almost twice as long then, not because of erratic, obsessive mistakes but simply with the pace in which he moves, limbs reaching through brittle bones submerged in quicksand as he expands himself thin and dry upon the gleaming, cursed floorboards.

It isn't until he's halfway through his beloved, egregious routine that he notices it, small and yet conspicuous in midst of white, bleak reflections, brown leather and protruding slices of color in the corner of his living room, just barely visible from how it threatens to hide beneath his couch.

Hyunjin picks it up gingerly, the wallet thick and heavier than he'd assumed as he stares, mind reeling slowly as it registers what it is. He bites his lip, stomach bursting awake all of the sudden in small bundles of something sharp and rousing as he opens it, eyes blinking through the array of colors.

Springing to his feet, he quickly fishes forward the plastic gloves he has neatly placed in one of his kitchen drawers, fingers flickering through the wallet as soon as they're on, intrigued, impulsive.

Credit card, bus card, a few dollar bills, library card, business card, gym membership, something he assumes to be a lollipop wrapper, a coupon for apple juice, a mini-sized version of a kindergarten portrait photo, Jia's smile blinding through the little frame and-What the fuck is he doing?

Hyunjin frowns, placing the wallet hastily onto the kitchen counter as far away from him as possible, tossing the plastic gloves away with a harsh swallow down his throat.

He picks up his phone then, willing his brain to placate itself as if he hadn't just snooped through someone else's fucking wallet. He needs to get exorcised soon, Jesus Christ.

Hyunjin sends a quick, indifferent message before he has the chance to overthink it, stomach clenching uncomfortably. You left your wallet here. Sighing, he casts a weary glance over to the bucket and sponge awaiting him on the floor, knees throbbing as he falls onto them and continues, arms burning from fatigue far too early.

Yet his concentration is limited, forehead creasing in frustration from the amount of counts he interrupts by peeking back over onto the wallet on that wretched counter, the lack of noise from his phone like a blaring, discordant symphony to purposefully turn the numbers in his head every which way.

Then suddenly his pocket vibrates, mind cursing itself from how fast he reaches for the screen. Oh shit. Are you busy?

Hyunjin bites his lip, mouth frowning slightly. No, he replies, stomach contorting painfully as soon as the message goes through, eyes widening. Why the fuck did he say that?

Would you be able to bring it to the studio? I have to pick up Jia straightaway after this, I won't be able to drop by.

Hyunjin stares, the small, pixelated words swirling through his vision as it slowly begins to seep into clarity, chest fluttering irksomely all of the sudden. His fingers feel like lead as he types. When does your shift end?

The answer comes bubbling back immediately. Hyunjin's hands tighten around his phone. 4. Still a few hours till. Then, as if having been brewing between the lack of anything to grasp onto, the screen buzzes once again. But you're more than welcome to hang around as long as you want ;)

Hyunjin blinks, scoffing to himself as he stares disdainfully back to the forgotten sponge by his knees. His fingers throb as they type, stomach dropping. I'll be there in an hour.

Cleaning becomes anything but easier as soon as the message goes through, mind dazed and limbs sloppy as they frenzy in disarray across the floor, onetwothree, why did he agree, onetwothree, he needs time to shower as well, onetwothree, what the fuck is he even thinking, onetwothree, it really isn't that big of a deal, onetwothree, why is he making it into a big deal, onetwothree, he'll slip in and slip out, just like that, in one two three.

He scrubs himself speedily beneath the scalding drops of water as soon as he's done, muscles twitching from the pace with which they tear and yet his head tunnels in on each crevice and imprint of soap as if having known nothing else, around and around and around until the heat fogs up the glass and renders him dizzy. He's starting to think that maybe he hasn't.

His reflection in the mirror spends an embarrassing amount of time inspecting each little slant of skin and bend of its face, fingers light and fluttery as he dries himself off and makes himself presentable, chest aching once more for the return of shimmery streaks to paint him with him, unquestionable beauty to replace the rotted corpse festering in the hollow of his gut.

He brushes a few strands across his face, teeth gnawing on his lips to the point where they turn swollen and red, nimble, yet frantic as he glosses over any rifts that might just come breaching through his flesh.

This is ridiculous, Hyunjin thinks, ridiculous and unnecessary and yet his obsession only pummels through him with a vicious speed, fingers itching to start scratching all across his face, maybe even shred apart a piece or two and see them tumble to the floor in pitiful heaps of truthful remnants.

He rips himself away from the mirror immediately before he gets the chance, slinking to his bedroom as he drapes a soft, dark shirt across his torso, top two buttons undone, jeans tight-fitting and necklace cool against his chest, mind whirring to the point where his bones begin to droop over and tilt toward the floor as he second guesses each movement his clothes billow with, each twist and curve of his silhouette.

Hyunjin pointedly slams the door shut as he walks out, wallet in hand and feet determined to get as far away from the suffocating walls of his own apartment the minute they step outside, shaking his head in exasperation. What the fuck is he thinking, he knows he looks good. He always looks good.

The walk is, as it turns out, both frustratingly and stirringly, shorter than he'd thought, the familiar sign of the three dotted chili peppers adorning the swirled loops of Sriracha Ink as he bristles through the red-framed door, heart clanging uncomfortably against his ear.

Hyunjin ignores the serene shrouding of greenery as he makes his way toward the receptionist, expression just as disinterested and apathetic as the last time, an eyebrow arching immediately at his presence.

"Oh. It's you," he says, voice drawling as he straightens his posture and yet Hyunjin thinks he can hear the slightest trace of interest swell in the back. "You caused quite the drama this morning."

Hyunjin frowns, eyes narrowing as his forehead creases. "I did?"

Jeongin only nods, gaze flickering back to the computer, face drawn back into its natural jaded, heedless form. "Yup," he responds, popping the 'P' nonchalantly, entirely mindless of the rattled line of dominoed thoughts he'd just flicked over in Hyunjin's head.

Hyunjin crosses his arms, head tilting to the side. "You're not gonna elaborate?"

"Nope." Jeongin's eyes remained glued to the screen as they scroll down, neck finally craning toward him once he's done, small grin threatening to break free across his face. Hyunjin only stares back, oddly unnerved. "But I should thank you for the free entertainment. It was getting kind of repetitive around here."

"Entertainment?"

"Oh you know." Jeongin shrugs, taking the cap off a pen and doodling something indecipherable on a sticky note. "Just some casual threats of death here and there. Jisung almost shit his pants. I wish I'd brought popcorn."

"Oh," Hyunjin says, unsure really, of what he's supposed to be feeling, the thought of Changbin defending him like something large and ridged with sharp edges getting stuck in the back of his throat as he tries to swallow. He can defend himself all on his own, thank you very much.

Still he thinks, for a second, of what had seemed so many nights ago in the wispy shadows of his apartment, bloodied fists and unmoving limbs flaring through his mind like spinning nursery lamps casting shapes and dancing illusions of lights against the wall. His gut curls in on itself.

"Don't feel bad," Jeongin quips, still intently focused on the movement of his own pen-swirling hand, pausing for a second as if to think, blinking at him absently. "Or do, whatever, I don't care." His eyes pivot back to the little note, shaking his head as he grins. "But Jisung deserved to get his ass handed to him. Was about damn time."

Hyunjin opens his mouth to respond, tongue still undecided on how to unfurl itself when the black fringe curtains suddenly part, Changbin emerging from the other room with a gentle, earnestly bound smile as he looks at him. "Hey, thought I heard voices."

Hyunjin turns to him immediately, the wallet heavy in his hand. "Hey."

Changbin's grin widens, eyes flickering down to the brown leather clutched in his grip before landing back upon him, gleaming with something light and airy, hopeful even. "I'm with a customer right now actually, but you can wait inside if you want." Hyunjin stares, fingers twitching slightly, chest steeped in balmy wind. "I'm almost done."

"Sure," he responds, lips tugging upward into a small smile as Changbin beams, leading the way into the tattoo lounge as Hyunjin promptly follows suit.

The familiar smell of ink and green soap wafts through him in waves, gaze trailing along the array of designs adorning the walls as if hypnotized, stomach thrumming in anticipation. Chan, who seems to be discussing something with a customer, gives him a kind nod of acknowledgement before diverting his attention back to his conversation.

Hyunjin notices Jisung in the corner of his eye sitting meekly behind his own desk, undoubtedly working on a design based off of his hunched shoulders and the pencil looping around in his hand, his head peeking up to stare at him as soon as he notices his presence. At least he has the decency to look embarrassed, eyes flitting straight back to his notebook as Hyunjin shoots him a glare, his face reddening immediately.

Changbin guides him to his own desk, pulling out the chair as Hyunjin sits down, making sure he's comfortable before walking over to a woman patiently waiting in one of the tattoo chairs, leg perched and lifted by an adjustable leg rest as Changbin picks up the needle from where it lies momentarily resting on a piece of Saran wrap.

He looks over to Hyunjin once more, grinning good-naturedly. "Feel free to look through my designs if you get bored," he says, turning back to place the needle against the woman's ankle, concentration suddenly focused elsewhere.

Hyunjin watches in silence for a few minutes, mesmerized almost by the low buzzing sound of the curving needle before he pointedly fishes forward his hand sanitizer and thoroughly rubs his fingers together. He picks up one of what seems to be Changbin's design books gingerly, fingers skimming through the pages as he peers into the sketches, each line firmly drawn and meticulously placed together into cohesive, captivating illustrations, each just as detailed and well-honed as the rest.

Hyunjin can immediately tell that Changbin is someone who takes his craft seriously as his eyes scan the etchings in interest, the style ranging from simplistic and clean-cut to extensive, winding paths of peculiar absurdity.

There are several of what he assumes to be either a butterfly or a moth, perhaps a butterfly decaying into its fate as a creature of the night, wings drooping and lines swirled in dreamlike directions, the round markings on each wing drawn as peering eyes instead, curious, buzzing, all seeing windows to the soul.

Hyunjin flips the page, gaze flickering back up to Changbin, posture still entirely directed toward the needle in his hand.

He looks back down again, blackened engravings of a mysterious cat with two heads and pupil-less eyes craning their necks in each direction, tails circling their body from each side as they meet in the front.

Hyunjin wonders for a second whether there's a story behind each drawing, deep clefts of the mind left opened and seeping with it the veils of understanding hidden between lines, strips of the shrouded soul unfurled and waiting to carve itself permanently upon someone's skin.

There are more trippy, unearthly sketches of insects, winged-creatures with eyes as markings, a beautifully shaded beetle with crests adorning its outstretching body, then a few pages with characters he doesn't recognize, Chinese he assumes, plotted against the paper as if calligraphy, nestled between drawings of tigers on the prowl and serpentine curves of a dragon.

Then, some symbols he does recognize, unable to comprehend their meaning as they scatter around a mist-enveloped half-moon. Hyunjin stares, fingers itching to trace along them as if to engrave within himself the secrets of their enigma.

On the next page there's a woman sitting by a pond, long, sleek dark hair falling all the way across her back as she clutches onto a floral-patterned oil-paper umbrella, long robes cascading down her hunched body and tassels of camellia flowers fastened gracefully upon her head.

Despite her neatly put together appearance, Hyunjin thinks there's a certain streak of sadness chiseled into her existence, eyes peering into her own reflection as if desperate to search for something even water would not be able to ripple.

Hyunjin stares at the woman cloaked in anguished vanity for far too long, mouth frowning as he tries to tear his gaze away. There was something discomposing about the illustration, unnerving even.

Hyunjin swallows, flipping the page as a sudden rustling above him pulls him away from the book, neck snapping upward as he meets a very nervous, fidgety looking Jisung standing in front of the desk.

Slightly panicked by Hyunjin's sharp, narrowed eyes, Jisung cranes his head around swiftly as if already thinking of a way to escape. Hyunjin notices Chan not far by either, seemingly having finished his conversation by then.

"Yes?" He asks, tone icy and prickling as he speaks. Jisung swallows anxiously, eyes back to his as he stutters for a moment. Hyunjin can't see his hands from where they're shielded beneath the desk, but can imagine with a rattling clarity how they must be wringing themselves in distress. It makes him feel slightly better, somehow.

"I'm really sorry about my behavior yesterday," Jisung starts, voice shaky as he tries to compose himself, gaze growing more determined the longer he stands there, pooling with regret and sincerity. "I wasn't thinking straight and I was being inappropriate and incredibly stupid. It was totally out of line."

He pauses, casting a brief glance over to the floor. Both Chan and Changbin seem to be looking at them by now. "I'm uh, really sorry. I didn't mean to disrespect your um...your profession," Jisung stumbles, shaking his head immediately as if to correct himself. "Your art form, I mean. Or you."

Hyunjin only blinks, strangely numb to it all as Jisung exhales unsteadily once again. "Sorry. I'm really bad with words." He laughs then, airy and devoid of any humor. "If it's any consolation I'm now broke and I spent the whole night throwing up."

Hyunjin hums, tilting his head to the side as his eyes bore straight into Jisung's. Jisung visibly swallows. "Mmh. It is actually."

Jisung nods, as if unsure of what to say, opening his mouth slowly before Chan suddenly moves in even closer, forehead creased with a certain sense of guilt. "I'm sorry too, by the way. For letting Jisung drink in the first place."

Hyunjin only smiles, the stretching of his muscles tight and strained against his face, words from the night before jabbing into him in jarring shards of something that cut. Whatever. He doesn't know why he'd gotten so upset. He'd heard far worse before.

Jisung bites his lip for a seconds, fumbling with something in his hands before lifting them, reaching out his arm toward him. "Um...here," he says, eyes brewing with a certain sense of fear as Hyunjin all but blinks in surprise at the yellow-petaled flower in his hand. A carnation, he thinks.

"For you," Jisung continues, grip loose around the stem. "As an apology."

"Oh." Hyunjin stares at the bright, intricately flourished petals in bewilderment, momentary punctures against his flesh withering suddenly into nothingness. "Wow." He peers at Jisung, entirely unsure of what to say, gaze flickering quickly around the room.

Changbin only stares at them wide-eyed, clearly not expecting such a gesture. Even Chan looks surprised, smiling discreetly as if mildly impressed. "Um. Thank you," he says, at last, reaching forward and accepting the carnation delicately, the stem cool against his touch as Jisung visibly seems to slump forward in relief, timid grin etched upon his face.

Hyunjin's never received many apologies in his life, let alone one accompanied by a flower. He bites his lip, brushing his fingers along the petal, not at all sure of how he's supposed to feel, something strange and yet soothing unloosening in his chest.

"So you see any designs you like?" Chan asks, smiling cordially as Jisung sits down at the edge of the desk, entire body relaxing as he does so, still keeping a respectful distance. Changbin diverts his attention back to the customer, searching for the correct ointment as he finishes up the tattoo.

Hyunjin's hold on the carnation tightens momentarily, as if desperate not to let it slip through his grip. Grateful for the change in subject, he nods, pursing his lips as he looks up at Chan. "The surrealist ones. They're cool."

"Oh yeah, Changbin's great at those." Chan picks up the design book in front of him and skims through a couple of the pages, holding it up to yet another array of evil-eyed insects. "Especially animals and bugs. The moth one is popular. What made you drawn to it?"

"I don't know." He thinks for a second, Chan looking at him with sincerity as if genuinely caring about what he has to say.

"Moths are all about transformation and usually it's considered a good thing but," he pauses momentarily, both Jisung and Chan staring at him intently, stomach churning in apprehension. He has no idea what the fuck he's talking about. "The droopy lines makes it seem more like they're withering, cursed by the all-seeing eye instead of blessed with it. Ignorance is bliss and when you see too much...well...the more you ebb away to madness."

Chan nods in earnest, Jisung grinning at him excitedly. Hyunjin wants to shrink away and shield himself all of the sudden, the doubtful coals in his stomach beginning to ignite. "Interesting interpretation," Chan quips, laughing slightly as if in disbelief. "Most people just like them cause they're kinda funky looking."

"Yeah, you could totally be a tattoo artist," Jisung adds, seemingly easing into a level of friendly comfort. "I don't remember Changbin's explanation but it was pretty good. Yours was even better."

"Something about straying too close to the light," Chan says, grinning as Jisung snaps his fingers in recollection. "But I agree. I liked your understanding of it more."

Jisung cranes his neck around toward where Changbin is bandaging the woman's ankle, glee ringing through his voice as he yells. "You hear that Changbin? Your days are numbered, he's coming for your gig."

Changbin laughs, smiling as he looks up at them momentarily, gaze finding his own as Hyunjin stifles a small rise of laughter, eyes simmering with certain endearment.

Hyunjin quickly looks away, tilting his head up toward Chan who's holding up another book, pages of what he assumes to be the studio's official portfolio as he starts flipping through them, Hyunjin leaning in with interest.

There are plenty of photos, some of finished illustrations printed out and others clearly taken after having been finalized upon the skin of certain customers. Hyunjin peers at the different drawings, Chan explaining with each turn of the page.

"Jisung does a lot of cartoon styles and New School, but he's also really good at mythical illustrations." Hyunjin stares at the extensive outlines of characters he vaguely recognizes from media he hasn't watched, their figures animated and detailed to perfection, bubbling almost as if seconds away from bursting straight off the paper.

"Oh." He perks up at the sudden blue-hued sketching of a familiar animal, excited for some reason at actually being able to name one. "The Road Runner." He grins, memories flooding back to him. "My favorite cartoon." He shoots Jisung a smile, his hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly as if embarrassed at the implication of praise.

Chan laughs lightheartedly, seemingly spurred on by the fact that Hyunjin appears interested, flipping the pages in earnest. There are a couple of ornately drawn fairy-tale like illustrations, flutter-winged pixies and elves, regal phoenixes, a crest encircled unicorn. They're pretty, he thinks, placing his chin on the palm of his hand as he lets his enrapture unfold.

"Changbin like you saw," Chan continues, turning the page, similar sketches to the ones he'd looked at earlier flourishing before his eyes, "a lot of abstract stuff, florals, illustrative tattoos."

There's one of a woman's head shaking, the movement with which she moves so frantic her entire face becomes distorted, lines blurred in fast motion, faceless and as fleeting as the wind. Hyunjin stares at it intrigued, her lack of steadfast identity jarring against the anchored lines of her hair and face.

The pages turn over gently, darker tattoos and carefully discordant lines as if having been drawn in a haste spattered across the paper. Hyunjin knows they haven't been, each drawing intricate and thorough. "I do a lot of sketch work styles," Chan explains, gesturing to the illustrations below, "blackwork and shadow tattoos like these."

Hyunjin blinks as he looks at a photographed strip of skin, a silhouette shaded as if having been pressed against glass, trapped inside something it longs to break free from. "Wow that looks so real," he breathes out, amazed, turning back to peer at Chan, smile tugging at his lips. "Didn't really think about there being so many styles."

"There are too many to count." Chan grins back excitedly, flicking through the book hastily before landing on what he'd been looking for. "Minimalist tattoos and fine-lining are really popular right now. Like these."

Hyunjin surveys the drawings carefully, simple yet precise, scattered all around each other like elaborately painted doodles. There's a ribbon, a sword, kitschy ones like teddy bears and heart-shaped lockets.

"I like the cherries," he points out, gesturing to the two unembellished cherries entwined together through their shared stem, skin glistening just slightly.

"Oh yeah." Chan nods, peering down at it enthusiastically. "Very americana."

"Are you trying to get him to book an appointment or something?" Hyunjin rips his gaze away from Chan to find Changbin approaching them at last finished with his customer, an amused expression flitting across his face.

Chan only grins, closing the book gingerly as he places it on the desk. "Was just showing him."

"I hope you weren't too bored." Changbin smiles at him then, Hyunjin shaking his head adamantly as he puts the carnation still in his hand into his bag, careful not to crush the petals.

"No, it was interesting," he says, lips tugging upward slightly as he decides to get up from the chair. Changbin follows his movements attentively, eyes resting upon the small brown leather wallet still nestled in his grip. He laughs, shaking his head. "I totally forgot that's why you came."

Hyunjin stretches his hand forward as Changbin accepts it gratefully, something unreadable glinting across his face. "My shift is over now, by the way."

Nodding, Hyunjin steps out from behind the desk, ready to leave before Jisung suddenly lights up, expression contorting into something of great importance.

"Wait before you go!" He turns to Chan mischievously, grin wide and teasing as he speaks. "Chan fell in love last night."

Chan's face drops, eyes narrowing immediately. "I did not."

Jisung turns to them excitedly, whole body buzzing as he tries not to cackle. "When you kicked us out, Felix walked by the entrance and Chan literally said 'Whoa, I just saw an angel.'"

Hyunjin stifles a laugh at Chan's very serious, very resolute shake of the head. Jisung's wicked smile only doubles in size. "Then he talked the whole cab ride home about how angels actually exist like some crazy Evangelical."

Changbin snickers next to him, Chan groaning in frustration as he glares at Jisung. "How can you even remember anything from how shitfaced you were?"

Jisung cringes momentarily as if reminded of something he'd much rather forget, gaze landing upon him for a brief, guilt-woven second. "Trust me, I wish I didn't."

Hyunjin only gives a small, slightly strained smile back, hoping it could somehow convey the strange easement of the flower tucked carefully into his shoulder-slug bag. Changbin glances at his phone then, face screwing up in panic as he stares at the time.

"Okay now I really gotta go," he stresses, packing his things hurriedly as Hyunjin watches him intently, an unusual feeling brewing in his stomach. He thinks it tastes oddly of disappointment. Hyunjin frowns.

"Tell Jia to get the lemon this time, I swear it's the best," Chan says, Changbin nodding in absent-minded acknowledgement as he zips up his gym bag.

Jisung rolls his eyes, turning directly to scoff at Chan. "No child is gonna get your weird, boring lemon flavor Chan, give it up."

Chan grumbles, shaking his head in disbelief. "Just because you have the taste palate of a child, doesn't mean you're always right."

"What?" Hyunjin watches in amusement at Jisung's highly offended expression, the two of them bickering back and forth without a second thought. "I do not have the 'taste palate of a child,' I eat plenty of sophisticated foods thank you very much."

Chan nods in mocking enlightenment. Hyunjin tries not to laugh. "That's right, you're a culinary connoisseur, I forgot you ate spinach that one time-"

"Pease nobody likes spinach-"

"Do I need to remind of you of your Skittles phase?"

Jisung seems to freeze at that, face drawn open in horror as he points aggressively in the air. "Don't you dare!"

Hyunjin's eyes widen in bewilderment, Changbin groaning exasperatedly. "Oh God please no, don't bring that up." Whatever it is seems to spur him on exceedingly, arms flinging his bag over his shoulder as he starts taking brisk steps toward the reception area, the sound of Chan and Jisung arguing becoming fainter and fainter the further Hyunjin follows him.

Changbin bids a short goodbye to a still very uninterested looking Jeongin, the sweltering air from outside like kernels of heatwaves to strike him one by one. Changbin gives him a smile then, one similar to how'd he left his apartment that morning, eyes softening around the edges.

Hyunjin tries not to let his mind think of it too much, sending him an inquisitive look instead, eyebrow raised in skepticism. "Skittles phase?"

Changbin laughs, shaking his head as his face winces momentarily, long strides against the bumbling concrete as Hyunjin walks next to him. "Long story short, vomit can actually contain all the colors of the rainbow. In case you were wondering."

Hyunjin's nose scrunches up in humorous disgust, the sun harsh against his face. He should've brought sunglasses. "What was that even about?"

"Oh. Jia and I always get ice cream on Fridays when I pick her up," Changbin says, the faintest echo of a smile beginning to stretch. He shrugs, as if it doesn't mean anything in particular. Hyunjin can tell that it does. "It's just a silly tradition."

Hyunjin purses his lip, shooting him a balmy look as they round a corner, noisy rumbles of traffic subduing slightly. "Sounds nice."

Changbin grins, dark hair momentarily ruffled by a brief gust of wind. "Yeah, we have a big debate going on about which flavor's the best. I wouldn't listen to either Chan or Jisung, they both have questionable taste."

Something oddly heavy settles in his gut then, tongue prickly against the roof of his mouth. "You guys seem really close. I mean, you told me you were but...yeah." He casts a glance to the side, Changbin's eyes already intently trained upon his. "They seem like good friends."

"Thanks." He smiles, corners of his mouth woven in things he can not begin to understand. For a second Hyunjin wonders how much of an understatement that had been. "They are."

He bites his lip, keeping his gaze firmly planted upon the winding path before him, stomach twisting in shimmers all of the sudden. "Your stuff is good. Your tattoos, I mean."

"Thank you." Changbin grins, eyes glinting playfully as Hyunjin makes the mistake of looking back at him. "If you want another one, I might just give you the discount of a lifetime."

He arches an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

Changbin nods, expression far too serious as he comes to a sudden stop, Hyunjin coveting his unmoving legs without so much as a second thought. "Mmh, it's called the 'pretty dancer discount.'"

Hyunjin tries not to laugh, smirking in disbelief. "Oh you had that one ready." A loud shriek unmistakable of that of a child's titter rings close by. Hyunjin frowns, smile slipping from his face as he cranes his neck around.

"Well-"

"Wait," he cuts off, eyes widely trained upon the large yellow building right in front of them, kids bustling in and out with colorful backpacks slung around their shoulders, parents stumbling in tow as they try to catch up. His heart hammers uncomfortably in his chest, gaze narrowing instantly upon Changbin's confused one. "Where are we?"

"I'm picking up Jia," he says, as if it's obvious, expression scrunching up slightly as he regards him with certain doubt. "From kindergarten? I thought you knew."

"How would I have known that?" Hyunjin crosses his arms exasperatedly, a loud yell from two boys chasing after each other making him flinch.

"You followed me here?" Changbin laughs, seemingly amused. Hyunjin's stomach plummets.

"I didn't-" He looks around, scanning the clean-cut yet juvenile-charmed structure in front of him, large multicolored building blocks spelling out the name of the kindergarten by an adorning flowerbed, pretty hedges and daffodils like a sharp jab of something nauseous against his gut. "I wasn't thinking. I just-I don't know, I thought you were following me home or something."

Changbin grins, expression playful as he tilts his head. Hyunjin grumbles quietly to himself. "I'll gladly follow you home, but surely you noticed we were walking in a different direction?"

Hyunjin bites his lip, jaw clenching in annoyance. Truthfully he hadn't at all been paying attention to where they were going, head drifting in youthful foolishness far, far away. Fucking shit.

"It's just a small detour, if you keep walking straight and then take a right I think you'll be on the way to your apartment."

Hyunjin squints his eyes, arms folding together in skepticism. "Are you a stalker or something? How do you know that?"

Changbin laughs, shaking his head. "No. I've just lived here a long time." He gestures briefly to the wide front doors to the entrance, heels already seconds from turning toward it. "But now that you're here...wanna come in?"

Hyunjin stares back at the rays of poorly suppressed hopefulness billowing through his eyes, his own head screaming at him to say no, scratching and scraping their talons against the tissue of his mind, desperate, eager to break out before something horrid begins to sludge its way inside and yet his stomach resounds with a strange, aching set of fluttery wings, the antiseptic walls of his apartment like caged fences to leave him knee-bruised and keeling.

He swallows for a second, nerves scattered throughout his chest, Changbin sending him a comforting, mild smile as Hyunjin's limbs start moving in reckless abandonment of his own tightly wound coils, a low "Fine," slipping through gritted teeth as Changbin positively beams.

"Since you tricked me here," he grumbles, shooting him a sharp glare and yet Changbin only laughs, leading the way into the glass doors as Hyunjin tries not to faint from the bright splattered colors all around him.

The first thing that overcomes him is the smell of detergent and fabric softener that pummels through the entrance immediately, something oddly mixed with plastic and an artificial, subtle fragrance of vanilla to snake its way into each crook and crevice of the room.

Hyunjin's head whips around in fascination once they're inside, legs firmly planted upon what obviously seems to be the pick-up area, locker cubbies arranged neatly against the walls, large laminated cartoon drawings of different animals hung above each shelf with children's names, racks of colorful clothing haphazardly arranged as if having been placed with the intention of precise organization and yet somehow ended up strewn all over the place. Of course they have, children are hardly pinnacles of tidiness.

He stares disdainfully at the rather prominent gaze of a large, wide-eyed ladybug glaring at him from above some poor kid's cubby. Hyunjin shudders, the thought of the amount of germs wafting through the air making him seize his hand sanitizer hastily, fingers rubbing thoroughly together even though he's absolutely certain he's not going to be touching anything in here.

Changbin only gives him short, amused glances as he walks over to the open-doored entrance of what he assumes to be the classroom, children flying in and out as their parents try to get everything put together.

Hyunjin flinches as a little blonde girl zooms past him, jumping into the arms of her kneeling father right behind. God, someone should put a leash on these kids before they sprint straight out into traffic...

A young woman stands waiting by the doorframe, her long dark hair falling across her face as she crouches down to bid each eager child goodbye as they walk out of the classroom, smile bright and affectionate. As soon as she straightens back up again, her eyes gleam as her grin widens, Changbin approaching her with Hyunjin in a hesitant tow.

"Changbin," she greets warmly, eyes flickering over to look at Hyunjin for a brief second, confusion filtering through her face as her smile tightens just slightly. "Jia's just finishing up a drawing, you know how she is."

Changbin laughs fondly, nodding as if he'd expected nothing less before suddenly turning to him, Hyunjin's stomach twisting as he gets introduced. "Ms. Kim, this is Hyunjin...he's a friend of mine."

"Oh, how nice." Ms. Kim's eyebrows raise as if in understanding, reaching out her hand to shake his as Hyunjin reciprocates, swallowing the urge to find a sink and scrub himself clean. Her grip is strangely tight as he shakes it, her mouth thinning for the briefest flashes of a second, an unnerving juxtaposition from how sweet and delicate she looks.

Hyunjin's eyes narrow immediately, although Changbin seems oblivious, saying something about how he has to get Jia's backpack ready before walking over to her cubby.

"So how do you know Mr. Seo?" She smiles at him brightly, overtly-nice and reeking of insincerity. Oh now she uses his last name.

Hyunjin purses his lips, plastering on the same, feigned smile as he stares her down. "I'm a dancer at the club he works for."

"Oh really?" She asks, appearing momentarily confused at what he's referring to before nodding in recognition. "Ah yes, he told me about a new night job. What kind of dancer?"

Hyunjin makes sure she can sense every inch of his forced smile as his eyes glint with something wicked. "The exotic kind."

"Oh." The cogs in her head spin around rapidly, eye twitching as Hyunjin tries to stifle a malicious laugh, Changbin suddenly appearing by his side again with a glittery backpack slung across his shoulder, entirely unaware of the malfunctioning distaste beginning to brew in the woman before him.

Thankfully none of them are even given the chance to speak when the loud, bursting noise of running legs and a gleeful smile come barreling from out the classroom door, body whirring from an almost inhuman speed. "Daddy!" She shrieks, Changbin quickly crouching down to catch her in her arms as she all but flings herself toward him.

Hyunjin almost jumps from the force with which she suddenly appears, her small, thin arms clinging around Changbin's neck as she starts to excitedly bounce up and down, detaching herself from his hold to rock back and forth on her heel.

Changbin grins widely, eyes simmering with a certain fondness that makes him feel entirely out of place. "Hey there jellyfish."

Jia smirks, leaning forward as she produces forth a sheet of paper she'd been holding behind her back, gesture oddly similar to when she'd terrorized him with a bullfrog as she thrusts forward her drawing straight into Changbin's face. "Daddy look!"

Changbin lights up as he gently takes the illustration into his hands, nodding in exaggerated approval. "Wow this is amazing!" Hyunjin can only make out what he thinks to be a castle and maybe even a unicorn before Jia promptly snatches it back, smile teasing on her face. "It's not for youuu, it's for Grandma."

Changbin puts a hand over his heart in feigned hurt, eyes pooling with devastation. Jia laughs. "But I want one too."

Jia ignores him then, peering over to look straight at him with widened, inquisitive eyes. She definitely remembers him, Hyunjin thinks, his stomach clenching with agitated nerves already.

She only gives him a mischievous, secretive smile before bouncing over to her cubby, long dark hair blowing back and forth, a couple of pink, shimmery hair clips coming loose as she sits down onto the bench. Changbin stands back up again, glancing at him almost nervously as if to gauge his reaction.

Hyunjin leans in as he lowers his voice, eyebrow arched in bewilderment. "You call me princess, but your own daughter jellyfish?"

Changbin laughs, eyes gleaming as he starts walking toward the cubbies, grin wide and carefree. "Oh trust me, I tried calling her princess a long time ago. She hates it." He looks briefly over to Jia, back flat against the bench as she stretches a red rainboot onto her flexed leg. He shakes his head, sighing. "Prefers jellyfish instead. It's her favorite animal."

Hyunjin stares up at the laminated cartooned creature above her locker, the unmistakable baby pink of a jellyfish displayed with her emboldened name on it. "That's her favorite animal?"

"Yup." Hyunjin turns to glance at Changbin, a mixture of amusement and disbelief upon his face. "Cause they're pretty and they 'sting' people."

"What?" He laughs, Changbin nodding along in earnest.

"Don't ask," he says, taking a few steps toward Jia before suddenly stopping, neck craning around as he smirks. "Hey, that's kinda like you actually."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, biting back a smile as Changbin crouches down and shakes his head at Jia, her lips drawn into a big, exaggerated pout.

"You don't need to wear rainboots," he says, reaching for her foot and gingerly trying to take it off. "It never rains here, you know that."

Jia only sighs dramatically as she falls back down onto the bench, huffing with great force as she lets him take them off, Changbin placing them back in her standing locker before fishing forward a pair of yellow sneakers painted orange at the tip as if to resemble the beak of a duck, holding them up as he waits for Jia to put them on. Jia grumbles, sitting up straight again as she looks at them with distaste.

"But I wanna wear the boots," she whines, eyes big and pleading. Changbin gives her a stern look, but her face only continues to contort into a childlike beg, lips pouting so much even Hyunjin would've probably given her anything she asked.

Changbin groans, placing the duck-sneakers back to their rightful place. "Fine."

Jia squeals in delight as she jumps up, excitedly sliding both red rainboots onto her feet, the bright color jarring against the pink and white stripes of her tights. "Thank you Daddy! I think it's gonna rain today, I know it will!"

Changbin hums as if doubtful, but his eyes scrunch up in endearment as she gets dressed, hair flying everywhere as she carelessly throws on a thin, denim jacket, a small sea otter patch sewn onto one of the pockets by her chest. Changbin tries to softly fix the loosened clips in her hair as she moves, eyes trained in immense concentration so as not to tug at her scalp.

"Okay go to the bathroom while I talk to Ms. Kim and then we'll leave, okay?"

Jia nods earnestly as Changbin stands back up again, shooting him a passing look as if to say that he'll be quick before walking over to a Ms. Kim still standing by the doorway and bidding goodbye to bustling hoards children. Hyunjin narrows his eyes as he makes his way over, Ms. Kim's face lighting up immediately as he tries not to grumble. Ugh, whatever.

His gaze flits around for a moment, a few of the other parents giving him brief glances, presumably from never having seen him before, some of them smiling kindly as they divert their attention back to their kids.

About to suffocate from all the noise and dazzling colors, Hyunjin forces his fingers to stay still from reaching into his pocket and grabbing forth a cigarette, chest bristling uncomfortably the longer he stands there.

He never gets the chance, sadly, eyes meeting the rather poorly withheld stare of some man trying to get his daughter to put on a windbreaker, his face turning red immediately once they make eye contact, gaze pointedly redirected to his daughter as she starts stuffing things in her backpack.

Hyunjin frowns, peering up at the little monkey above her cubby, eyes seizing back in on him, young-ish, handsome, wedding ring. Hyunjin doesn't recognize him, but he's sure the sentiment isn't mutual. Fucking great.

He cranes his neck back around, the urge to laugh dying in the back of his throat as he tries not to flinch from shock at a very sly looking Jia staring straight at him. Back from the bathroom already, he supposes, her lips stretching into a grin as she looks hurriedly over to the side, Changbin still engaged in conversation with an all too delighted Ms. Kim.

Apparently pleased to see that he isn't paying attention to them, she beckons rapidly with her hand, eyes locked on his and gesturing for him to lean down closer.

Unsure of what to do, Hyunjin eventually does as she wants him to, expression nervous and skeptical as her grin only widens. Once he's close enough, Jia leans in to his ear, cupping her hands around her mouth as she whispers teasingly, "I remember you."

Hyunjin stares at her unexpectedly, eyes blinking as he opens his mouth, not a single thought of what to say leaving past his lips. Apparently he doesn't need to say anything, Jia cackling silently as her words turn muffled from laughter.

"You were a scaredy cat." She smiles at him playfully, words mocking and amused, though barren of any actual malice whatsoever. "I remember."

Hyunjin only continues to blink, mouth fully open now as he looks desperately to Changbin as if hoping to summon him to his aid, the embarrassing memories from what had seemed so long ago flooding through him in tidal waves.

Jia keeps giggling to herself before suddenly turning on her heel spontaneously and skipping over to Changbin, tugging impatiently at his arm. "Let's gooo, Daddy."

"Okay, okay," Changbin laughs, bidding goodbye to Ms. Kim as Jia copies him energetically, almost leaping out the door as Hyunjin follows them out, Changbin shooting him a gentle smile once they're outside.

Hyunjin feels his lip tug upward before he can stop it, the airy, feathery feeling in his stomach still rattled with unease, almost painful from how it clenches so tightly.

Changbin casts a brief glance over at Jia in front of them, her body spinning all of the sudden as she jumps into a cartwheel before turning back to him. Hyunjin's heart hammers in fear, eyes bulging in shock but Changbin seems oddly unfazed. He assumes she must do that kind of thing all the time.

"Thank you for bringing my wallet," he says, biting his lip as if suddenly apprehensive. "And for um...well, this. I know it's a lot."

Hyunjin only nods, strange spells of something dry and dull lingering in the back of his throat. "Yeah well, I should probably go now-"

"Wait!" Jia yells, apparently having cartwheeled her way back to the two of them, eyes large and oddly scattered with concern as she blinks up at him. "You're not gonna eat ice cream with us?"

Hyunjin freezes, her big, pleading gaze peering into every marrow and indented hollow of his body, mouth stuttering as he tries to come up with some sort of answer, the pink and purple butterfly clips glittering from the sun, a small ringlet of a halo wrapped around her hair, face waiting and hopeful, that little fucking sea otter patch staring straight into him. It's too much, too much.

"Jia, Hyunjin is probably busy-" Changbin starts, tone reassuring as if sensing his distress but Jia's pout only deepens, eyes scrunching up into a heart-wrenching insistence. "But you have to eat ice cream with us! It's the best ice cream in the whole world!"

"Um," he says, blinking rapidly, unable to tear his gaze away from Jia's now borderline hysterical one.

"Pleaseee," she begs, the heels of her feet rocking back and forth and Jesus fucking Christ why was 'interacting with a child' not a part of his high school curriculum.

"Okay," he gives in, cracking a faint, slightly strained smile as he tries not to think about what the fuck he just agreed to, Jia's face lighting up in delight as she starts thanking him incessantly, twisting around all of the sudden as she launches into yet another cartwheel. God, this kid had a lot of energy.

Changbin looks at him as if trying to gauge his emotions, eyes pooling with something akin to worry but Hyunjin quickly waves it off, nodding in assurance as they start to walk, the ache in his stomach only increasing with each step. Changbin beams at him then, opening his mouth to say something before Jia beats him to it, skipping her way back to them with a fervent curiosity.

"What's your name?" She asks, looking up at him and grinning, slinging her hand into Changbin's as she falls into a steady rhythm by his side. "My name's Jia."

"Hyunjin," he says, fingers itching in the familiar throb of reaching for a cigarette.

"How do you know Daddy?" Jia continues, eyes never leaving his for a second as they suddenly round a corner.

"We work together," Changbin answers swiftly, expression slightly nervous all of the sudden. "At my night job, remember? The club."

Jia nods in recognition, smiling at him brightly. "Are you a bodygrard too?"

Hyunjin shakes his head as he tries not to laugh at her mispronunciation, innocent curiosity far too endearing. "No, I'm a dancer."

Jia gasps then, face lighting up immediately as she beams. "Me too!"

Changbin laughs, gazing at her fondly. "That's right, Jia takes hip-hop classes."

"I can teach you lots of stuff!" She grins, eyeing him excitedly as Hyunjin tries not to smile back, failing rather quickly as Jia's voice swells with unbridled pride. "I'm really good!"

"I bet." He grins, Jia now swinging her hand interlocked with Changbin's rapidly back and forth, her radiant expression almost blinding beneath the sun.

Somehow it manages to stretch itself even wider and more brilliant once the pastel-painted building of a kitschy, retro styled ice cream parlor comes into view, a few white French bistro chairs and parasols scattered around the outdoors, fragrant flowerbeds encircling the entrance as the little bell by the door jingles as soon as they step inside.

Jia all but bounces over to the abundance of flavors by the display case, an assortment of uncountable colors flourishing from behind the screen as an older man greets her excitedly, white paper hat and bow tie illuminated by the glowing light above him.

"There's my favorite customer!" He grins, kind glinting eyes and gray beard reminding him of some children's story grandfather, laughter bellowing from him as Jia spins around, her black, frilly skirt twirling in the air. "My my, looking pretty as always!"

Jia beams, Changbin shaking his head lightheartedly as he makes his way up to the display case, Hyunjin following suit as the owner's gaze seems to notice him for the first time. Hyunjin's eyes glide over the little name tag pinned to his chest, the name WALTER accompanied by a small ice cream cone enamel pin right next to it.

Walter's eyebrow arches as Changbin greets him warmly, gaze flickering subtly back and forth between the two of them. "What a delightful surprise," he notes, a knowing look gleaming through his pupils as he turns to him and smiles gently. "It's not everyday I get such lovely customers."

Flustered, Hyunjin only smiles back, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. Walter chuckles, eyes landing upon an animated Jia still eagerly staring at all the flavors. "Besides these two of course."

Changbin, seemingly a little timid all of the sudden, grins back pleasantly, turning to him as his eyes soften substantially, opening his mouth as if to say something before Jia promptly beats him to it.

"What flavor are you getting?" She peers up at him expectantly, one of her butterfly hair clips threatening to come loose once again.

"Uh...I don't know," he says, gazing into the display case, mind feeling dizzy already from all the different colors and types, bright, dazzling arrays of pink and brown and green and every single shade he can think of churning through jarringly.

He definitely would've arranged them in another order. His hand twitches slightly, throat swallowing away the feeling as he turns back to look at a waiting Jia and Changbin. "There's so many."

Changbin smiles, nodding as if completely understanding his brewing distress. If only he knew. "Well we've tried them all and I can safely say that the hazelnut one is the best."

Jia frowns, shaking her head adamantly. "Nooo, the peanut butter chocolate is!"

"No, hazelnut," Changbin reaffirms, Walter looking between them as if he'd already expected such a debate. Jia turns to him abruptly, eyes wide and insistent as Hyunjin can but rapidly blink. "No you have to get the peanut butter chocolate!"

"Um..." His eyes flicker back to Changbin, chest bristling with scattered nerves for no fucking reason. Changbin only shakes his head in mock disappointment at Jia's suggestion, the faintest ghost of a smirk etching itself across his lips. "No trust me, you'll like hazelnut better."

Jia's eyes pop at that, hardening so much Hyunjin thinks they might come buzzing straight out of their sockets as she rolls them dramatically, voice exaggerated into a judgmental, unexpected drawl. "Hazelnut. Oh my God Daddy." She crosses her hands theatrically, staring up at Changbin with great criticism. "You're so basic."

Changbin's eyes widen in shock as he gazes down at her completely scandalized, Hyunjin's throat bursting with laughter at the completely serious look upon both of their faces, hand coming up to cover his mouth as he tries to stifle it. Changbin seems seconds away from fainting. "Who is teaching you to talk like that?!"

Jia giggles, dramatic facade slipping from her face even though she tries desperately to contain it. "Sophie's sister talks like that," she quips, rolling her eyes over exaggeratedly once again. "Duh."

Changbin's mouth falls open, Jia looking seconds away from exploding into laughter. "Okay you can't hang out there anymore, you're talking like a teenager already."

Jia shoots him a mischievous little glint, almost as if sharing with him the absolute hilarity she seems to find from torturing her father. Hyunjin grins back, mimicking her and rolling his eyes exasperatedly. "Oh my God Changbin, don't be so dramatic."

Jia falls into maniacal bundles of cackles as Hyunjin tries not to join in, Changbin laughing in disbelief as he gives him a strange look, somewhere between amused and pained. "Don't encourage her please." He shakes his head, giving Jia a weak, feigned glare before flickering his gaze back up to him. "Which flavor are you choosing?"

"Peanut butter chocolate," he states, smile teasing, the nerves scattered in his chest withering slightly. "Since I'm not basic like you."

Jia grins in a wicked satisfaction, Changbin groaning as he walks forward to pay, Walter smiling as if far too entertained once he begins scooping up the correct flavors, placing them neatly in three small paper cups. "Wow, this is the thanks I get for buying you ice cream, you two ganging up on me?" He huffs, turning around once completing the payment, Jia laughing in delight as she nods her head eagerly.

Hyunjin only grins back playfully, Changbin biting back a smile as he walks over to gather the cups, handing one to Jia and the other to him before grabbing his own, the three of them walking outside as Jia hurriedly picks a spot beneath a parasol, bathed in the momentary relief of mellow shade.

Hyunjin sits down across from her gingerly, making sure to rub hand sanitizer thoroughly onto his fingers beneath the table, teeth gnawing slightly at his lips at the thought of having to use the plastic spoon lodged into the light brown scoop of his ice cream.

He crumbles the thought to dust, both Jia and Changbin digging in immediately, Jia decidedly far messier as the corners of her mouth become streaked with ice cream, Changbin wiping at her face every few seconds or so. Jia wrinkles her nose in disgust each time he does it but doesn't protest, only brushing away the strands of hair from her face so as not to get them in her mouth.

Hyunjin tries not to cringe at the smudges of ice cream continuously being smeared all over, her wide, exuberant smile almost making it slightly easier to ignore as he starts taking small, meticulous bites of his own, careful not to spill anything over the side.

Changbin peers at him curiously, the edges of his eyes softening for a brief second. Hyunjin catches him staring, raising an eyebrow as he promptly looks away, grabbing a wet wipe from his bag and pointedly cleaning Jia's now chocolate covered hands.

Jia stares at him as if bursting with questions, seemingly having had enough of any silence whatsoever the minute Changbin retreats back to his seat, smile looming as Hyunjin can hear her start kicking her feet back and forth beneath the table. "What's your favorite color?"

Hyunjin blinks for a second, unsure of what to do. "I don't know." Jia doesn't appear to like that answer, only tilting her head to the side as she frowns. Hyunjin panics. "Red."

Jia grins, nodding as if in approval. "Mine's purple! What's your favorite animal?"

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, he thinks for a second, Jia gazing into him with wide, inquisitive eyes. "Um. Butterflies." He laughs, the sound airy and nervous, fingers tapping rapidly against his thigh. "And yours?"

Already knowing the answer doesn't make it any less satisfying as it comes bursting out of her with a set of pearly, bright teeth. "Jellyfish!" Jia grins then, Hyunjin nearly choking from the suddenness of her next question.

"Why weren't you wearing pants last time?"

"Oh." He casts a frenzied looking glance over to Changbin, stomach thrumming with nerves. "Because I just woke up." Changbin only looks back at him slightly mortified, eyes widening as they both give each other alarmed stares.

Hyunjin turns back to Jia, smile not quite reaching his eyes, praying that she doesn't see through his apprehension. "I don't sleep with...pants on."

"You were asleep?" Jia frowns, the wheels in her head turning slowly before her mouth drops open in indignation, whole body twisting toward Changbin in betrayal. "You had a sleepover?! Without me?!"

Panicked and desperate to calm her down, Changbin shakes his vehemently, scattered nerves brimming through his voice. "No no no, it was a grown up sleepover. It was boring, I promise." Jia looks at him doubtfully, eyebrows arching as if not believing him for a second. Hyunjin stifles a small laugh. "No popcorn or movies or anything."

She squints her eyes, deciding her skepticism shouldn't be enough to deter her attention away from the gradually melting ice cream in her cup, spoon spinning around eagerly as if trying to make it dissolve. "So what did you do?"

"We just...talked about boring, grown up stuff." Changbin insists, nodding to himself resolutely. He shoots a quick glance over at Hyunjin, teeth still caught between his lips as he tries not to laugh. "And fell asleep."

"What did you talk about?" Jia asks, lifting the cup of melted ice cream right in front of her face and pointedly drinking the rest of it. Hyunjin cringes, fingers itching with the urge to clean up the mess around her mouth, thankfully Changbin is quick to react, grabbing another wet tissue and wiping her face off.

Jia's still looking at him intently once he's done. Changbin stalls for a second, realizing she's still waiting for an answer. "Um...taxes."

Hyunjin bursts out laughing then, Jia's puzzled expression and the unsure, pained look in Changbin's eyes making small rises of titters seep from his throat. He quickly swallows it away as Jia snaps her neck back to stare at him, eyes narrowed in doubt, Changbin sending him pleading, comically desperate glances.

"He's right, he's right," he breathes out, nodding in determination until Jia seems momentarily satisfied, muttering something under her breath about what taxes are, but she decidedly lets it go. Thank God. Having a child just seems like a heart attack in the waiting.

He glances quickly down at his cup of ice cream, the remainder having melted by now, Hyunjin shuddering just thinking about trying to eat it like that with the flattened surface of his little plastic spoon.

And he certainty isn't going to drink it and risk it spilling all over him and fuck, why on earth didn't he bring his own spoon, he usually does but of course he hadn't known he was going to be eating ice cream with a five year old and her daddy whom he may or may not have fucked several times by now and Jesus Christ, why was it so hot all of the sudden, what the fuck is he doing-

"Uh." Changbin sends him an amused, yet slightly distressed look, eyes seizing in on the shaky fingers opening his packet of cigarettes and intensely searching for his lighter, familiar tightening coils of his stomach beginning to string themselves into an unbearable pain. Hyunjin halts, cigarette loose in his grip as he stares back. "You shouldn't really smoke in front of children."

He shoots a brief glance over to Jia who only seems to be watching things unfold with an avid interest, eyes flickering back over to Changbin, blinking rapidly. "Why not?"

"It's bad for the development of their lungs," Changbin says, cracking a small smile, Hyunjin's gut hardening uncomfortably. "Oh." He places the cigarette back in his packet, slightly embarrassed, fingers itching for something to occupy them with. "Sorry."

His hands drum nervously against the paper folds of his ice cream cup, the speed with which they move turning faster and faster the longer he lets his restlessness simmer, the little plastic spoon suddenly jolting from his movements and splattering against the glass table. "Fuck!"

Hyunjin quicky grabs a napkin and starts furiously rubbing away the small puddle of ice cream staining the surface, Jia gasping all of the sudden as he freezes, dread seeping into him in tenfold. "You said a bad word!"

He looks up in horror, eyes wide and waiting for some form of chastising as Jia only grins at him vastly, Changbin turning her to immediately as if already sensing the potential danger. "Okay Jia don't repeat that please."

"I won't," Jia giggles, a mischievous glint shimmering in her eyes. Changbin only shakes his head, turning back to look at him. Hyunjin gives him a pained, anxious stare, the mess upon the table momentarily forgotten. "Sorry," he mutters, chest twisting with humiliation. "Again."

Changbin only smiles, gaze balmy and slightly amused as he reassures him. "Don't worry. Slip ups happen."

Hyunjin nods, jaw hardening as he diverts his attention back to the spilled ice cream, fingers vigorous and thorough as he makes sure to get everything away, gently placing the crumbled up napkin into the paper cup and reaching desperately for his hand sanitizer.

Jia leans in to her father then, cupping her hands around her mouth as she whispers in his ear similar to the way she'd done to him earlier. Hyunjin stares, Changbin laughing as he looks at her delighted. "You can tell him," he says, Jia pointedly shaking her head as she refuses to make eye contact with him, gaze timid and clearly avoidant. "Since when are you shy?"

"What?" Hyunjin can already feel his heart hammering uncomfortably against his ribcage, the unpredictability of childlike behavior making his leg bounce nervously up and down.

Changbin grins, looking over at him playfully. "Jia said you look like a princess."

Hyunjin blinks, mouth parting open slightly, not at all what he'd been expecting. Jia sighs heavily then, dropping both her arms upon the table in frustration. "That's not what I said. I said a mermaid princess, mermaid."

Hyunjin's forehead creases, Changbin laughing at Jia's correction. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're pretty," he clarifies, to which Jia starts nodding enthusiastically, Hyunjin biting back a smile from how adamant she seems. "Why a mermaid?"

Jia looks at him for a second before leaning back in to whisper into Changbin's ear, his expression turning incredulous as he stares at her. "Jia, just tell him yourself!"

Once again Jia refuses, shaking her head and smiling bashfully as she takes small glances up at him. Changbin sighs, grin still wide and intact. "She says you look like one of her mermaid princess dolls."

"What?" Hyunjin laughs, eyes pooling with disbelief. Changbin turns back to Jia again, face scrunching up in in excited understanding. "Oh wait, you mean the one with the silver tail?" Jia nods vigorously, Changbin diverting his gaze back to him as if inspect him in a new light. "I see it now. A little freaky if you ask me."

Hyunjin narrows his eyes playfully, the two of them staring at him as if having discovered some sort of comic, crucial little treasure. "I don't believe you. I need to see this doll."

Jia's face lights up, both forearms against the table as she leans in from the chair. "Yes! You can see all my toys, I can show you!" Her long strands of dark hair blow slightly from the sudden wind, hair clips loosening just a bit as her torso sways gently back and forth, grin pearly and wide as she peers up at him with eyes painted from nothing but the purity of youthful innocence and jubilation, simple, snowy streaks of being uprooted lily white.

Hyunjin feels sick all of the sudden, smile strained and weak as he forces himself to muster one, his jaw, throat, every muscle within him aching with the need to flee, to return to sullied seeds of home, of shadows beneath the earth.

Words filter in and out his ears then like muffled shouts from above water and yet Hyunjin hears and hears, each meaning trickling out one end as he submerges himself further into the rippling waves, drowning gladly, eagerly, not because he yearns for the tightening throb of his lungs but simply with the reason of never having managed to learn how to breathe.

Jia's sparkling delight feels like shards of something wicked and undeserving stabbing at him mercilessly, the way her eyes buzz around with playful enchantment, her hands wringing and trailing themselves upon every surface available, body drooping and molding to the side of her father in comfort once the slow inevitability of fatigue becomes her.

Changbin holds her with nothing but fondness, arms cradling each nook and crevice of her flourishing petals as if blessed with the ability to touch, to care for, something so delicate, so shimmery and softened around the edges, the brightest pearl at the bottom of the sea, no ridges or jarring dents to cut him with.

Hyunjin can't help the swirl of nausea that encompasses him then, each motion and curve of his own retreating body like soot to mar the billowing wind in which he moves, stomach heavy, chest leaden with disease.

Changbin takes her home then, her tired eyes droopy and fluttering as she leans her head upon his shoulder, mouth opening every few seconds or so to let out an exhausted little yawn, his lips imprinting gentle kisses upon her forehead as she struggles to stay awake.

Changbin bids him a goodbye, eyes vibrant, thankful, once again cratered with stardust and perfumed streaks of air that are too real, too real, as earthly and truthful as the very flesh in which had emerged from him, a small strip of his own marrow to foster for the rest of his life.

I'll see you tonight, he says, Hyunjin nodding without even feeling the slight tilt of his head, tongue dry and yet oddly coated with something he thinks will drip out thick and oozing in a foul-smelling blackness as soon as he's home.

Of course he'll see him tonight, feathered and cinched and bathed by a darkened, hazy mist of bloodcurdling red, eyes shaded and sharp, lips spilling with wordless sin as his body twists itself unholy. Earthly, truthful.

Hyunjin thinks of the flower lying carefully in his bag, the petals still intact, stem not yet broken. He might break it, he thinks, rip the thing in two once he finally settles into the walls of his own caged apartment, the fragrant smell of carnations like venom to valleys where it refuses to grow.

Hyunjin stares at it for far too long, fingers loose around the flourishing bulb before he crushes it with the tightly woven anger leaking out of his fist, hard, vicious, gutted and slain. He shouldn't forget his place, he thinks, nor the foggy embrace of thick, choking stage lights.

They lull him to sleep, after all, to dreamlessness and non existence. Hyunjin won't forget his place. He never has.

-

 

It's uncharacteristically overcast for the blistering Arizona weather the day he meets her. Although he's sure he must've seen her before, a flickering shadow that always lingers, escaping just before he manages to slot it within his fingers. Hyunjin doesn't particularly know when she started watching his performances, nor does he think he wants to know.

His mind buzzes with the usual hymns of incantations as he spins around barefooted, flared pants billowing with the wind, little stomach gemstone glistening despite the barren lack of sun. His watchers soak him into their skin like sickly sweet perfumed duds of soap, each tiny step and twist of his muscles as enchanting as the day before, glorious, bewitching, the repetition of aliveness humming along to the same beat of his tambourine as always, no strings or dark, bubbling illusions to suggest that today would be any different from the vastness of yesterday bleeding into the morning horizon.

The horizon remains muddied, he finds, astray from the clear cut lines he's become so used to, his captivating charm contorting horribly into something angry and streaked with panic once he finishes his routine, feet aching and smile wide, eyes shimmering as he lets them sear into the ones of his watchers, limbs too late, too woven with foolish, youthful self-indulgent greed to notice the speedy arms that surge right before him, snatching up his money-piled bucket with the speed of the desperate as they plummet into the indiscernible crowd.

Hyunjin freezes, veins brewing with rage as he quickly rushes off his heels, throwing himself into the crowd as he runs and runs and runs, heart thrumming with the need to find his fleet-footed thief. He needs that money, he fucking needs that money to check himself into shitty motels and shower, how fucking dare he?!

Another jealous, seething street urchin no doubt, a mediocre performer at best, foaming, burning at the mouth in their own inability to drain themselves of something worth obsessing over.

Hyunjin pants, yelling meaninglessly into the swarm of people as he points desperately up ahead, necks craning confusedly to see what he's alluding to, the thief as gone and invisible as the pinching fingers of a well-lit candlelight. Then, because of course the heavens must punish him for his lack of belief, a strong, unyielding arm grabs him from the back, stifling his movements as Hyunjin thrashes in his grip.

"What the fuck!" He manages to turn around eventually, the familiar lines of a certain police offer's face like scalding grains of sand down his throat. He lets him go eventually, Hyunjin wrenching his arm free as he ignores the way it aches.

"What are you manhandling me for, some thief stole my money!"

The cop only gives him a chastising look, as if some child unable to comprehend how the real word works, Hyunjin's chest overflowing with anger more and more by the second.

"You're disturbing people," he simply says, eyes raking over him slowly. Hyunjin's stomach flares, his arms crossing in indignation. "Because someone stole my shit!" He spits, the officer seemingly unfazed by his aggravated behavior.

"Money you obtained illegally," he states, tone patronizing and frustratingly calm. Hyunjin's eyes bulge with disbelief, the urge to laugh it off as usual dying harrowingly in the back of his throat. "I earned that money fair and square-"

"Do you have a permit?" The officer asks again, repeating blood-sizzling question day after fucking day. Hyunjin wants to punch him in the face. "What's your name?"

He grits his teeth, skin bubbling with something horrid longing to break free. "That's none of your fucking business-"

"I could have you arrested you know," he says, Hyunjin's mouth dropping open, stomach churning with sudden fear as he all but blinks in exasperation. "What?! For what?"

"For street dancing without a license." The police officer tilts his head to the side, icy eyes piercing into his with murky twilight brewing in the distance. Hyunjin doesn't want to know what it means, what such creeping, incessant pupils see when they look at him. He thinks he already knows. "Or what was it you called it last time? Snake charming?"

Hyunjin's chest bristles, nerves flooding his system as he clenches his jaw angrily. "You're lying, you can't do that-"

"Excuse me officer." He should have recognized her before then, Hyunjin thinks, large leopard-printed coat and outreaching talons coated in a bloody, rubied red-like snares ready to trap their meal for the day, poorly bleached blonde hair falling in wispy strands across her face, weathered and serpentine.

She's been watching him for a while now, he's sure of it. The police officer seems to recognize her immediately, stance retreating away from him as if burned, the woman's eyes glinting with something that obviously strikes a cord of fear within the haughtiness of a uniform.

"Ma'am," he mutters, mouth frowning as he looks between the two of them, waiting for confirmation on something Hyunjin has no idea what is.

"If you don't mind, I'd like you to let him go now," she says, smile sickly sweet and lethal, her eyes flickering to his own as Hyunjin all but stares with an uneasy feeling coiling in his gut. "I have some things I want to discuss."

The officer glances back at him, eyebrow arching with something that makes him feel oddly sick. "He's one of yours?"

"Mmh," she purrs, lips stretching into a Cheshire like grin as she greedily casts a steely net right over him, beckoning him to follow as she starts walking in the opposite direction, large heels clicking to the sound of his own inevitable doom and yet he doesn't hesitate, shooting a sharp glare toward the police officer before relief overcomes him from successfully slipping away from his grasp once more.

He doesn't ask where they're going, the woman leading him into a classic diner a few blocks away from where he performs, the bell jingling as the door opens, his feet heavy and dense all of the sudden.

She gestures for him to sit down opposite of her, a small wooden table separating them not by much. Hyunjin stares at her in apprehension as she points to the menus on the table, her smile turning kinder the more perplexed and lost he looks. "Order what you want. It's on me."

Hyunjin blinks, her leather like skin taut as she stretches it, eyes reaffirming her words with a simple little nod of the head. Stomach still twisting in knots of some bewilderment, he picks up the menu, hunger surging through him at the promise of food.

"Can I..." his voice sounds raspy as he speaks, throat swallowing several times before he continues. "Can I get the pancakes?"

The woman frowns, inspecting the menu carefully. "From the kid's menu? Why don't you get the full combo deal, huh?" She places the sheet of plastic down as if delighted by something, eyes knowing and sympathetic as she gives him a smile. "I'm sure you must be starving."

"Thank you," he says, words foreign against his tongue, mind whirring in a headache inducing speed as he tries to understand what's happening, the shadow-hidden woman ordering his food and a single cup of coffee for herself as soon as she spots a waiter.

"How old are you?" She asks once they're left alone, tone curious rather than threatening, an inquisitive look upon her snakelike face.

He never answers the questions thrown his way and yet something compels him to speak. She's buying him food, after all, though something tells him there's an unnervingly all-seeing gaze in the way she seems to inspect him. "Almost eighteen."

"Perfect." Her lip curls in a way that makes his insides twist, fingers drumming anxiously against the linen fabric of his pants. "And your name?"

For a second he says nothing, waiting, waiting for something to appear in his mind, a wretched name slipping past his lips before he can stop it. "Dove-"

"Your real name," she cuts him off, her long nails tapping against the table in great interest.

"Hyunjin." He swallows, the word unnatural as it brushes past his ear. He can't remember the last time someone called him that without venom coating their tongues.

"Exotic name for an exotic flower." She smiles, Hyunjin's skin crawling at the way she looks at him, a predator on the hunt for meat to feeds its children. "You can call me Ophelia."

Hyunjin quirks an eyebrow, stomach churning unbearably. "Is that your real name?"

"It is now, yes." She grins, her head tilting to the side, eyes luminous and on the prowl. "Tell me, then. Foster kid?"

"No..." He mutters, her piercing gaze rendering him restless from where he sits, hands wringing themselves uncomfortably beneath the table. "Ran away from home."

"Mm, a runaway," Ophelia hums, interrupted momentarily by a waitress returning with their order, her long, clutching nails like specks of glittered blood against the white ceramic coffee cup. Hyunjin stares at his own plate, mouth pooling with water.

"You escaped the monsters under your bed. And do you regret it?"

He pauses for a second, biting his lip as he cranes his neck back up to look at her, answer surging past his tongue without really having to think. "No." He doesn't. Not even with the flickering nightmares of sleeplessness. He'd never been able to sleep much anyway.

"Good," is all she says, taking small, quiet sips. Hyunjin looks down at his plate again, eggs, toast, pancakes, bacon, hashbrowns, fingers itching as they reach for a fork and knife, obsessive, three-leafed clovers drowned out by the agonizing rumbling of his stomach.

He doesn't think he's ever eaten so much at once in his entire life, muscles hesitating still as he reaches his fork up to his mouth, scrambled eggs suddenly too good to be true. He waits for a second, Ophelia saying nothing as she continues to drink her coffee, the idea that this might be some trick unfolding nastily in his mind.

His mother made it clear he always needed approval before he so much as took a bite out of his dinner. He shakes his head, foolishness pooling in his gut. His mother isn't here.

"What do you want?" He asks, gradually taking a bite as the flavor erupts in his mouth, warm, well-cared for, entirely too created with adoration for someone like him to be devouring it. His stomach groans satisfyingly at the food, hands straining from trying not to scarf everything down like some barbarian.

Ophelia gives him a delighted smile, seemingly pleased with him finally eating, her eyes suddenly igniting with something that draws his attention, voice low and resolute.

"You may have escaped the monsters living under your bed but there are plenty of creatures in the street too," she says, her words like carefully coated crumbs of honey, planted perfectly for him to latch onto every single bite. "I'm sure you already know. It isn't safe, especially not for someone like you."

Hyunjin frowns. "Someone like me?"

"You're a special one, yes?" Ophelia gives him a sparkling little glint, the corners of her lips tugging upward. "I can see it. I have to admit, I've been watching you dance for quite a while. You have a talent for...what did you tell that cop?" She ponders for a moment, face nodding as the memory dawns upon her. "Ah, yes. Snake charming. Clever."

Perhaps he'd understood what she wanted if he'd cared enough to divulge in her words, body far too occupied with stuffing itself with food, desperate, hungry from years and years of corner-tucked starvation. Ophelia peers into him then, eyes suddenly ablaze with something he thinks might scald him should he come to close. He puts down his fork, stomach gnawing itself anxiously.

"Tsk, tsk, it's dangerous playing with fire on the street like that," she continues, talons tapping rhythmically against her coffee cup once again. "I know a place where you can be safe, where you can...shine away from all those...what shall we call them? The cops, the other artists, those uptight conservatives...fire extinguishers."

She laughs then, short and unnervingly humorous. "People love to douse a flame just so that everyone will feel as cold as they do. I have a house where you can stay."

Hyunjin's blood freezes, the offer like a shiny beacon of something terrorizing awaiting his return. "With your own room, new clothes, food and water every day. A nice, hot shower, how does that sound?" He perks up at that, swallowing harshly, the faded imprints of scuttling bugs back and torturous against his skin. "All you need to do in return is work for me."

"What kind of work?" He asks, though he already knows, had seen within himself the dwindling curves of his own pathway in the shadowed caverns of light-barren streets.

"You seem like a smart kid," she says, her smirk like shards to rifts through his flesh as he stares into her into blinkingly. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

"I like to dance," he says, almost stupidly, fingers scratching against each other silently, eyes flitting back to the table for a second. He doesn't know why he feels the thick snares of disappointment wrap their cords around him, squeezing and squeezing until he's dry of unbridled momentary peace.

He always knew contentment was but a fleeting feeling, was reminded of it night after night as he collected his money and returned to withering hollows, mind ticking and counting incessantly once again.

Ophelia waves her hand in the air as if to dismiss his words, eyes burning with the same religious conviction of those who had tried to douse his performance. "Oh dancing, snake charming, hypnotizing, it's all the same is it not?" It's strange, he thinks. How different they are and yet how similarly their tongues spew unholy seeds of truths.

"You'll be performing just like you did on the streets and something tells me you'll be quite the star, am I wrong? I see a lot of kids like you...astray and vulnerable...trying to make ends meet. But you?" She leans in then, unscrupulous grin unfurling widely upon her face. "You're different. Special, yes? But I think you already know. You cast a spell and boom. Bewitched, those little snakes of yours."

Hyunjin only stares for a second, gaze flickering back and forth between her entrapping eyes and the plate of breakfast before him. He swallows, words sluggish as they leave his mouth. "So that officer is one of your...customers?"

Ophelia nods swiftly then, an eyebrow raised as if impressed. "You catch on quickly."

Hyunjin grumbles to himself, hot memories of a rupturing anger brewing in his gut once more. "And he's been all up on my case for being too 'provocative.'"

"Oh yes, there are plenty like that." Ophelia laughs, shaking her head as if it was all simply just amusing, the way of the world, nothing to be changed. "Cops that get off on a power struggle. And yet he came to watch your performances regularly, no? Well, looks like you already got yourself your first client."

Hyunjin's stomach drops at that, the food before him suddenly entirely too unappetizing despite the bounds of hunger still soaring through his bones.

Ophelia seems to notice his distaste, embellishing her words quickly as she utters terms of something to pacify him with, perhaps lull his swirling nausea to sleep. At least for now. "There are other girls and boys who live there, all around your age. They're all well-fed, well-taken care of and happy. And don't worry about diseases, all of my clients must use protection."

Hyunjin stares into her, can tell she's being honest despite the wily way in which she moves. "You won't be working on the streets, you'll have the safety of my house. Well, our house."

His tongue feels numb, skin buzzing with the imprints of a thousand sullied legs trying to nestle their way into his flesh. He needs to shower, shower, shower, needs to rid himself of foolish illusions that only keep him awake at night, stringing him along upon painful roads of childlike fantasies.

His tambourine feels silly from where it now lies abandoned upon the street, undoubtedly having been snatched by yet another fire extinguisher, gleeful in their ability to crumble coals beneath their heels.

Hyunjin knows, knows how he was born, knows what he must do, what he must bleed himself dry of in order to live, to be, to reflect upon the moonless streams of water the way in which he was truly honed from rootless earth.

"Okay," he says, chest empty, stomach numb. Hyunjin knows his place. "I'll do it."

Notes:

hyunjin finally making some friends?👀 and finally meeting jia properly!! she’s a menace lol, it was about time 🤭 changbin is slowly but surely engraving himself into hyunjin’s life🥺

 

thank you to everyone who read💕 hope you enjoyed as always! next chapter on thursday 🫶

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 10: Honeysuckle, Knee-Buckle

Like the unfurling of chiffon-petaled rosemallows that bloom throughout April, every April, every April, like clockwork, one, two, three in the barren sand kernels of his backyard, Hyunjin needs things to go as planned, to follow the neatly woven line of predictability that strings his head high and upright in the mighty crescendo of wind trying to pull it back down.

There are certain things he knows like the back of his hand, truths that have become woven into the clefts of his skin like nothing more but stained tissues of flesh, the pattern of his day, the impulsiveness of night, the way his catlike eyes and pretty lips and bleeding drops of insatiability simmer through the air like something warm and hazy, an apricot-infused summer to render you drowsy, hypnotized, basked in the allure of the irresistible fruit.

Hyunjin knows his own power well, it seeps from him in waves of something constant, something to rely on. After all he's grateful for the formulaic patterns he draws himself with.

Honeylike, sharp, sticky to the touch. A buzzing trap eager for the feast. They all look at him as such, especially now, especially here.

The flickering light bulb dims itself every few seconds or so against the jarring mustard-hued walls, peeling paper fliers in different colors splattered against the bulletin boards in heaps of something sickly no doubt.

Hyunjin tries not to look at them, let their weakened, desperate words of pitiful companionship unnerve him from where he sits. That's not what he's here for after all.

His head tilts around for a few minutes, breezy, lightheaded, entirely unaware of the very carefully planned, meticulously honed trail of spices he exhales. Chamomile, sage. Lemon balm. One, two, three.

The chairs scrape jarringly against the floor whenever someone moves, droning voices speaking in tongues of sterile landscapes and bumbling attempts at reaching for self-assurance, exhausted, frustrated, mulled over by the continuous farce of optimism through each gray-tinted sentence.

One man speaks about obtaining a new record of celibacy. The group leader praises him warmly, the others nodding along as if hoping their simple compliance might be enough to yield the same results. Hyunjin wants to groan. This was a lot duller than he remembered it being.

Of course with him there, the light flickers just a little more enticingly upon the wearisome walls. Tanned skin, low-rise jeans, the sliver of his butterfly tattoo creeping up from his waistband. Lips coated in shimmers of strawberry, eyes sharp and heavy, limbs stretchy and pliant like that of a feline as he suddenly straightens himself every few seconds. His shirt rides up even further then, a few stares tunneling in upon the glittering beacon of his bejeweled little belly button.

Hyunjin stares back at them, one by one, gaze falling into one of captivation and temptation instinctively as some of them turn away flustered, others lingering still with swells of panic coursing through them.

Really there's only been one person he's been eyeing, the six-month celibate who rips his gaze away with the speed of the forbidden every time he catches him staring. The reaction is predictable, as planned.

Hyunjin thinks maybe sex addicts anonymous should start grouping together under a different name to make their sunbaked target a little less conspicuous for those who love lighting up a match. Or perhaps most people aren't as fucked up in the head as he is.

Well, Hyunjin thinks, at least not to this extent, at least not now, glorious and golden in the backdrop of decaying wallpaper and rickety plastic chairs, his precious fly getting closer and closer to falling into his trap, eyes and head distracted from whoever's speaking, barreling into him as if tempting himself with the destruction of crumbling all his hard work to mere specks of dust.

Hyunjin wants to laugh, wants to preen beneath his gaze, seductive and playful, wants to take him somewhere and crush whatever step of the program he's on with the sharpened edges of his teeth, snap, snap, snap. This is funny, it's funny. It should be funny. It should be hilarious, riveting, hot coals of lightheaded power to fuel him with. Except it's not. It's not fucking funny at all.

Not even when he introduces himself, twenty-three, stripper, exchanges coke for sex like it's nothing. All true. He's done it all, pornography, prostitution, things that have gotten out of hand because he likes it rough and hard and on the brink of silken murder. A lie. Wait. It isn't. He feels a little sick then.

He has issues, he says. True. He's addicted to sex. Not true. Addicted maybe, but not to sex. He wonders if Felix has his little NA meetings in the same building. The group leader encourages him to share more, so he does. Each and every eye is glued to him like sugar.

He goes from person to person, ruining relationships, unable to commit. True. He has to have sex multiple times a day. Not true. He's never had romantic feelings for anyone. True. No. Not true. His heart hardens.

The group leader praises him, but eyes him a little suspiciously. Hyunjin doesn't blame him, not when he's already hypnotized half of his new watchers with the invitation to finally scratch that godforsaken itch. As planned, of course. Hyunjin does everything meticulously, in control, neatly, the petals of the rosemallow falling into place springtime through springtime.

This is what he'd wanted, what he always wants, tilting things over the edge, dousing alcohol-tinted breaths in gasoline, warmed by the flames, scalded by its embers.

And yet the fulfilment of his incessant need for drawing his path before he steps on it turns ridged, slain with curves and holes to fall into, crooks to get stuck in, limbs aching and bruised as they try to get out, out, out. He can't.

His trap is full, buzzing and rattling with flies, the scent turning more and more putrid as he nurtures it to sickness, not at all addicting with the sweet smell of carnal desperation as it once had been, instead marred by something beastly, festering strips of meat, icy droplets of guilt. Rays of layered nausea to surge up his throat.

Something's wrong. A glitch, a fallen tree trunk obscuring the road in front of him. Hyunjin hates it when things don't go as planned, weeds that take over the naturalness of his garden, insects that burrow holes into October pumpkin patches, curves and loops of ink-stained flesh to itch across his skin in all the ways he doesn't want them to, foolishness of the youth in his sin-cradled mind.

Idle fantasies of folly, irresponsibility really, to someone as shadow-borne as he. Elusive and slippery, not of the same roots and earth as certain people. Certain people. Those birthed by the sun. By day.

Yes, certain people. His mind swallows the names before they manage to reach anything but a whisper.

Mr. Celibate tries to approach him once the meeting is over, stale cups of coffee waiting by the table in the very back, eyes curious, aflame. Something painful washes over him then. Another disruption in his system.

He needs to go back to his apartment now, needs to bathe himself in the comfort of his three-leafed clovers again and again and again until he can forget the defeat of his sick little plan.

Whatever. Perhaps it doesn't mean anything, nothing more than a simple mishap, a simple case of things not being right due to his own incompetence at completing his morning rituals. Except he had completed them, vigorously so.

Shower. Lotion. Clean, clean, clean. Shower. Become pretty again. Breakfast. Instant oatmeal this time. Walk to the rec center whilst avoiding the buzzing messages on his phone. Set his trap. Ruin someone's progress just because he can and go home to shower again.

Then work. Try not to avoid Jinyoung this time. Cocaine. Main stage. Ignore him, again, just like last night and the night before. Cocaine. Smaller stages. Private rooms. More cocaine. A few drinks here and there. Pretend he doesn't feel ill from the heinous semblance of guilt beginning to brew. Walk home. Changbin's eyes hurt and confused as they bid him goodbye. Shower until his head droops in exhaustion and he tries not to pass out. Fall asleep. Dreamless, dreamless. Repeat.

Easy enough, he'd thought, especially to someone like him, someone as steadfast and particular and yet he'd only managed to get through his morning undeterred before his plans begin to stray away from their original skeleton, merging into things he doesn't understand, things he doesn't want to understand and yet make him ache in his inability to do so.

For a second, when he's back home again and peeling off the sticky, horrid petals of shame upon his skin, he thinks of glittering blue and purple butterflies nestled in dark, wispy hair, teeth bright and only slightly smudged in ice cream as they grin, elated, pure, childlike joy in its simplest form, its most precious one too.

His chest tightens. He should know well enough by now that whatever he touches leaves imprints of something dark and tarnished in its wake. Changbin should get it through his head as well, should unveil whatever strangeness that has shrouded his vision and see him for the gritty splendor he bleeds himself of night after night upon stage.

Changbin sees, Changbin knows, surely, he watches him intently each shift, eyes longing, glistening, unraveling with constellations he's never been able to name.

And yet like the return of biting gales in the fall year after year, Changbin continues in futile attempts at garnering his attention, asking if he's okay, if he did something wrong, if they can talk, please just talk and why is he being like this, why is he doing this to him, driving him insane and he likes him please, can he just hear him out and Hyunjin simply smiles, face numb and strained, eyes cold as he keeps his own mouth shut.

Perhaps his insistence isn't as futile as he'd like to think that it is, Hyunjin's mind whirring and spinning in every waking, sober moment of his obsessive claws, burrowing further and further into him, creating holes and crooks for memories and foolish daydreams to stir and haunt him from the dead of day, the prismatic shadows of night.

In sleep he sees, through ripples too blurred for him to fully discern what lies behind, the unreachable of childlike fantasies, delusions bathed in glitter and balmy scents and everything good, too good, too good, too real for someone with such a slippery grip as his own.

When he was young, wobbly legs balancing up on the big, ugly logs in his backyard, mind yet not simmering with the painful need to count, count, count, he'd see them too, those same shimmery ripples in his vision, diluted promises of words he'd read only in fairytales, lands of the far, far away, brave knights mounting their horses through the weathered terrain, willing to do anything to rescue the princess from the confining walls of her tower, rose-laved words of love and happily ever afters as each dragon and venom-prickled thorn comes crumbling to dust from the guarantee of an untroubled ending.

For a few, short intervals between the pain-riddled seconds of his life, he'd believed in those endings, longed for them with a soaring heart as he kicked the pebbles in his sand-hued pathways with his feet, the gravel skidding as they'd land a few feet in front of him, limbs light and nimble as he'd daydream his way along the road and kick them once again.

Perhaps one day that could be him, escaping upon the orange lines of the horizon in the distance, the arrival of a happily ever after waiting for him just beyond the other side of the sun and yet the horizon had always been blurry from the Arizona swelter, impossible to distinguish, scalding against the touch.

It would forever be a thing of great distance, as all promises of beauty are - the sun, the moon - a gemstone too guarded by roads of silk and marble, finely woven threads too delicate for such heavy feet.

The only beauty he'd know, the only beauty he'd paint himself worthy with was of unearthly shadow-glittered roots, eyes of the feral, cunning wildcat jumping from rooftop to rooftop in the inability to let the sunrise coat its fur, yellow eyes magnetic through the darkness, beaten beast of the jungle, feared, skinned alive, worshipped only by godless touches with the baring of sharpened fangs and vicious claws.

The slinking paws of the mice-hunting cat was not for childlike petting or family windowsills, for gentle brushes and heart-softening games to weaken it with. Hyunjin knows. Of course he knows, above all does he know it through the agony of juvenile fantasies that strangle him through sleep. If Hyunjin knows, Changbin should know it too.

But Changbin is stubborn. Stubborn and frustrating and unbelievably good at scraping his way into the hollows of his chest, growing and growing as it becomes more and more difficult to breathe.

Hyunjin doesn't need a knight to rescue him from his tower, especially not when he'd built his vine-spiraled walls with the very blood from his own bleeding fingers, suffocating and indestructible. He's fine with constricted lungs, has become used to the strain of exhaling freely since the swelling of childhood.

Fairytales are merely that, their names and names only, reserved at most for the lines within the pages of his bookshelf. Hyunjin knows. Why can't his dreams know it too?

He spends his evenings as he always does, does his job well, too well, shining brilliantly through the toe-curling redness of stage lights, his mornings exhaustive and vigorous just the way he likes it, just the way he needs for things to be right.

Except things aren't right, nothing is, not even when he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs harder than usual, not even when his private rooms are overflowing with tips like never before, not even when the editor in chief from his magazine calls him and praises him for the success of their release, promising him with similar opportunities for the future.

A jewel like him is hard to come by. Hyunjin nods, yes, thank you, of course, we'll talk, goodbye, goodbye. The words taste like sandpaper upon his tongue, the dawning of triumph never reaching more than a small withering strip of firewood. He thinks of nothing, nothing, nothing.

A lie. Another one. He's been doing that a lot lately. He thinks of one thing. Repeatedly, painfully, over and over again like a fucking curse from the underworld. Skin upon skin, flashes of tattoos and sturdy muscles to pull his flesh apart like clay, molding and spinning him in the palm of his hand every way he likes and Hyunjin doesn't mind, doesn't mind, yearns to be built from the gentle touches of someone else.

He thinks of two things, actually. The curve of a cratered smile, the rises of laughter bubbling through his own throat, lighthearted loops to twist around his stomach, stupid, stupid illusions of that phantom horizon once again, the sun, the moon, the nonexistence of silly fairytales he can but crush tightly with the grip of his own white-knuckled fist, angry, disappointed, veins thrumming with magma-spilling fissures.

Then, because of course he falls victim to that cursed, inevitable number, there's three things, three things overflowing from his mind in rivers of blackened tar he fears might start leaking from his tear ducts lest he find a way to stifle them.

Yes, Hyunjin thinks of three things. The greedy rapture of his body in worship. Fluttery, damned butterflies of fairytale promises. And at last, like the final puncture to his withering gut, the mocking temptation of something he's never had, innocence, white driven snow, familial, cradling ties bound by rope too thick for meagre blades to cut through, much less begin to unravel should he let his wounding hands come near.

Certain treasures remain unchained from his own silt-ridged soul, this he knows too like everything else, the reminder just as dull, just as gut-wrenching each mirror reflected morning he endures it.

Hyunjin may be many things, but he isn't stupid. Family means pain and nothing more, hunched shoulders and hand shielded faces, the cowering in cobweb filled corners, grueling twilights of starvation and a stomach in knots, the promise of care nothing more but an obligatory whisper for those born rotted, nestled in the rifts of their mother's hatred, empty lunchboxes and drawings ripped to pieces before tear filled eyes, spit-coated words of the only endearment ever sown to nurture him with - disgusting, Devil-made, horrid, horrid boy.

Love is worse, he thinks, means the extending of his own slim legs, the stretching of skin, the pull of flesh until it becomes weakened and loose and one tight grip away from ripping off of his body, gruesome chunks to come tumbling to his floor, slide beneath his bed as the smell begins to fester, choking and choking him night after night.

Love means cameras, the posing of the cat, the long tongued stripes of a lollipop, lace and pouty lips, bleeding whispers of praise and religion, sharp, sharp jabs of a knife straight to his gut, again and again, bugs spilling from his wounds as they carve their way into his sheets, never after 3AM, no never after 3AM.

Love means childhood interrupted, flesh but his own, beauty stolen and returned night after night. Stained underwear. Wet eyelashes. A hoarse, aching throat.

Hyunjin isn't stupid. He knows. He knows how things work, how his own feet are meant to tread, each pathway just as bumpy and dusted with sand as the next - the trails of his hometown, the gravel of the big city untethered by a roof, the burning concrete of the Strip as Cleopatra's awaits him, paintbrushes inky and irresistible as always.

Hyunjin knows it, Jinyoung knows it, his watchers know it, every person and phantom he lets ghost against his touch eventually comes to know it so why can't Changbin know it too, accept the inevitable and move on, leave his bustling mind alone once and for all, curse him to the mere pleasure of sunless corners and sheets of midnight like the rest of those blessed enough to receive a little taste.

In the dim-lit clefts of his vanity mirror does he see himself clearly for the first time in what had seemed so long, undistorted by his screaming head and burning, reddened eyes. His robe falls carelessly over his shoulders, the streaks of eyeliner after a long, limb-throbbing shift smudged beneath the folds of his eyes, spotty and pretty.

His lips look numb, he thinks, as if never having spoken before, the curve of his jaw and slope of his nose unmoving, lifeless. Like a tired, worn out doll, a creation of porcelain to hit repeatedly against the wall until its shards come scattering across the floor in the inevitability of puncturing poor, innocent flesh that bares the storm and steps foolishly down with the might of a bleeding foot.

Hyunjin thinks Changbin's foot must be in tatters by now, at least it will be by the end of the night, the sound of his aching knuckles knocking against the panels of his door like desperate chimes to a bell-tower on the brink of collapse.

He has to hand it to him, Changbin certainly isn't a quitter. Insistent but never pushy, determined but never selfish. Hyunjin hates him. No, his heart quickens as the noise continues, no he doesn't.

Perhaps ignoring him wasn't the right way to go, perhaps he should just make himself clear, rip the band aid off in one smooth, agonizing motion, spit word after word of blasphemy until Changbin will at last understand who it is that he's dealing with and let his wounded foot step back to rest.

Biting his lip and cursing the name of the ridge of his tongue, Hyunjin opens the door in one swift, body flinching motion, his face but the picture of glamour on the cusp of death, a relentless beauty rayed with pretty, drooping sorrow.

Changbin stares at him as he always does like he's seeing him for the first time ever, taking in each inch and little slant of his face with deep, deep cuts to his pupils, agony and magnetism to pull at the strings still strong enough to hold him up.

He looks tired, Hyunjin thinks, exhausted yet upheld through some sort of electric vigor he wishes would just come rupturing and swinging to the ground in defeat. No, he doesn't. Yes, he does.

Hyunjin plays those little games continuously through his head as he waits for sleep to throttle him, like the pulling of daisy petals in the courtyard of school, awaiting the final answer as only one nimble petal stares him down. Yes, No, Yes, No, he does, he doesn't, he does, he does - he does what?

"Hyunjin," he says, his words silken yet thick as they slither through the hazy air between them. He doesn't. Pluck, pluck, pluck. "Please. Please will you hear me out?"

Commitments of malicious words wither in the back of his throat immediately. Hyunjin swallows, his insides curling and twisting through all their vicious loops. He nods. He can't take the constant twinges anymore.

Changbin burrows his way slowly into the dressing room, the lines upon his face streaked with a quiet, yearning desperation. Hyunjin longs to look away, rip his eyes to something far less significant than the painstaking vulnerability of the man before him. He can't. His heart throbs. Another pluck of the petal. He does.

Changbin opens his mouth as if to say something, tongue tying itself to silence as he all but stares into him with all the fear and delicacy of handling fragile jewels of china, terrified yet curious to see it break.

Hyunjin bites his lip, teeth sharp as he tries not to draw any blood. "Why are you here?" He doesn't.

"I just..." For a second Hyunjin thinks Changbin might be on the verge of tears, eyes pooling with jagged salts of the earth. "I know you've been ignoring me. I don't know why or what you want me to do, but just please. Let me speak. Just this once and then you can go back to pretending like I don't exist, like we haven't..." he slows for a second, chest digesting the strain with which his lungs exhale no doubt.

"Look. I like you. A lot. And I know you like me too, please don't lie for the sake of humiliating me." Hyunjin says nothing, heart thrumming and thrumming away the cracks of the thick sheets of frost that squeeze it so. He does.

"And I understand that this is, for some reason I don't know but...but that I respect, that this is hard for you. You keep pulling away and then diving back in and it feels like you're stringing me along. I would feel hurt if I wasn't almost sure you're stringing yourself along just as much."

Hyunjin's jaw clicks, his stomach plummeting. Why can't Changbin know his place the way Hyunjin knows his? "But...listen, the times we've spent together I've felt like...I don't know, something, something just feels right. And I haven't really had many things in my life feel like that. I don't want to let a chance for something real slip past my fingers without at least fighting for it."

He takes a deep breath, eyes simmering with nerves yet burning with determination. Hyunjin can feel his insides crackle to ignited embers. "I'd like to take you out. You know, properly. On one of your days off."

"What?" Hyunjin's eyes bulge, his forehead creasing as he stares at the steadfastness in Changbin's stance. His stomach swoops, foolish threads of those wretched illusions spinning themselves to life once again, no, no, no, he'd promised to break them apart.

"Nothing fancy, I promise. Unless you want it to be. I just...I want to hang out with you, be with you outside of work and well...you know." Yes, Hyunjin does know. Bed. Changbin only gazes into him with earnest, simmers of hope bleeding through him in tenfold.

Hyunjin shakes his head in disbelief, plucking harshly at the stem-twirled daisy blowing back and forth through the hissing wind of his mind. He doesn't.

"Look, I don't do dates. I don't do relationships." Shouldn't it be obvious to anyone he's ever let cross his barren path? Frustration tunnels through his gut, jaw clenching so hard his teeth grit together painfully.

Changbin remains undeterred, a steadfast anchor amidst the current beginning to spill over from his own foaming lips. "Have you ever tried?"

Stupid fucking juvenile fables of sacrilegious beliefs, how dare he, how dare he fill his head with something so sinful?! "You don't understand!" He bellows, words seething from his mouth in anger, mind clouding in grueling rumbles of a blood-red sky, the sun painted just as scarlet as the open wounds of the heavens. "It's not for me, you don't know me okay?"

Because he doesn't, he doesn't know him at all, knows but the taste of his honeyed saliva and the fleshy grip around his thigh, the way his muscles yield and flex in dark corners of the night and the godless way in which he falls apart beneath the touch of wielding hands, blasphemous sounds of everything that would tear the old walls of his church to cinders.

He knows the Tiger Lily, knows the showbird, that wretched, wretched dove and though as much as he yearns for that to be all that he is, his rattled remains prevail frustratingly intact still.

Changbin gives him a strange look then, as if unable to comprehend his anger-bathed words, voice low and gentle as he speaks, tone indented with too much space, too much starry depth for Hyunjin to latch onto. Each sentence he utters strings itself along the air between them like small drops of silken pearls, shiny, shimmery, fragile to the touch, reflective to his own poison-tinted gaze.

"I know you like to keep things clean, organized," Changbin talks as if simply breathing out truths of the winding roads beneath their feet, "I know you like to do things in threes," Hyunjin's heart falls, his stomach shrinking in on itself like a cocoon, "I know your nose scrunches up kind of like a bunny when you see something you don't like."

Changbin smiles then, as if a gentle memory passes through him. Hyunjin thinks he can't breathe, at least not now, not here in the momentary halt of time and glitter-shadowed space. "I know you take your artistry seriously, I know you're invincible on stage but off of it you're not." Another pluck, this one sharp and harsh and so sudden it almost knocks the wind right out of him. He does.

"I know you like to eat your cereal dry, I know you bite your lip when you try not to laugh, I know your eyes almost disappear when you do laugh." A pause, Changbin's eyebrows creasing just slightly, gravity pulling him down, down, down. "Shall I continue?"

There's something heavy and prickly lodged in his throat, his insides curling with the slow trails of sticky honey unraveling within.

"How...how'd you about the three thing?" His eyes feel glossy as he speaks and yet he tries to pretend like the question doesn't terrify him, like it doesn't slice and jab at every muscle in his body, that horrid three-leafed clover he'd always kept safely guarded within the palms of his own hands, away, away, away from the bleaching rays of the sun.

Changbin's eyes soften and Hyunjin thinks, just for a moment, that perhaps not all sunbeams spill as harshly as he's used to.

"I've watched you clean things," he says, dark hair slightly tousled, dimple just barely there from the faintest smile he musters. Still Hyunjin sees it, sees it like he does every night, every night in the harrowing embrace of sleep.

"You do it in a very particular way, you make three circles and then you move on to the next spot." Another pause, another small tilt of the head. Hyunjin thinks his stomach might be rupturing by now. "You do the same when you wash your hands, you scrub each hand three times and then you repeat it, a total of nine on each."

He only stares, Changbin's mellow insistence like something soothing and yet terrifying to awaken each jumbled sense of nerve and feeling within him. Why on earth Changbin would pay attention to something like that makes his fingers shake just slightly, muscles rattled in the temporary uncertainty of how to strain themselves, how to be.

His lips open as if to let out the quietest exhale of breath and yet any sound swiveling between them becomes lost in the tight swell of his own raspy throat. Still Changbin manages to catch it, at least the very edge, the very scented air of hope and desperation and everything blazing in fear. It seems to be enough for him to continue, a thin ray of longing to propel him forward.

"Maybe I don't know you that well," he starts, the distance between them painful all of the sudden as Hyunjin manages to feel it for the first time that night. "Maybe you're right." For a second he yearns to lean in, to let space become merely a ghost of the shadow filled past and yet his feet remain firmly rooted to their spot as Changbin regards him with each cavernous speck of that same stardust he still holds tightly within him.

"I don't even know where you're from, your friends, your family - nothing - but I know I like you," a small smile then, the curve of his lip as gentle as always, "and I know you like me too. That's really all there's to it." Still Hyunjin says nothing, silence like a hot coiling web to stifle him with.

Changbin peers into him not as if to plead but as if to ask of the world the simplest of favors, the taste of water, the warmth of food. "I want to get to know you. So badly. If you would just let me."

Hyunjin can but shake his head again, insistent words sounding far weaker than he'd wanted them to, each curve and slope like brittle lines of ink to slowly seep away with each sunbaked day. "Trust me, you don't. You don't want to get to know me."

If only Changbin could know how truly and wholeheartedly his warnings ring true, chiming bells of something dangerous, something certain to tarnish the structure of a peach-hued innocence blaring between them, the promised disruption of all that becomes mellow and airy in the sweetened glow of springtime.

"I'd like to make that decision for myself," Changbin breathes out, no signs of faltering or hesitancy to flounder him with. His heart swivels then, spinning and spinning and twisting around until his head becomes dizzy. "You seem like someone worth knowing."

Everything feels wrong, upside down and like he's passed through dimensions of slow moving quicksand, vision blurry and yet dripping with golden streaks of those same calligraphed titles to adorn the weathered covers of his fairytale books, slanting and dipping until he's become hypnotized by simply staring at it.

Just one date," Changbin asks, eyes round and certain. Hyunjin longs to believe whatever kernels of truth that seemed to have blossomed within them.

"And if you don't like it, or if you're still convinced that isn't for you, then I'll leave you alone." Something strangely paralyzing fills him at that, Changbin's resolute stance like daggers to cut him with. "I promise."

Hyunjin opens his mouth, closing it suddenly as a painful sense of venom crushes his lungs. Changbin steps a little closer, so close in fact that Hyunjin swears he can see each line and ridge of skin upon his face. His heart quickens. "Just one date. Please."

"Okay." His voice sounds like someone else's as he speaks, someone younger, someone far more foolish than he'd ever allowed himself to be. "One date."

Changbin breaks into a grin then, wide and yet soft around the edges, the regret seeping into his gut already beginning to thaw and wither before he has a chance to latch onto it. Fuck. He won't pluck his wretched daisy anymore, too terrified, too drooping to let another petal fall to the ground.

This is a bad idea, bad, bad, bad. Hyunjin knows it is, knows because his feet are not molded for treading on ground that won't scald the sensitive part of his flesh, roads unexplored nothing but promises of being sent back home running and in ruins. Still, Changbin continues to smile at him, delighted, chasmic, entirely unaware of the trap he's set.

Ignorant and childlike, Hyunjin smiles back.

 

-

 

Hyunjin stares at his legs forlornly, small strips of moonlight filtering in through the sliver of parted curtain, cascading long shadows of something bleak and snowy upon his blemished skin. The black and purple coat his flesh welcomely, flourishing into withered petals on his knees and thighs.

He's used to it by now, eyes glazed over as they stare down upon them, outstretched and waiting on the bed. His last customer had been particularly rough, but Ophelia liked him. He paid well, very well.

He supposes he's grateful. Hyunjin wraps a seedy blanket around his body, shivering slightly as he tries to lie down. At least he has the biggest room, the biggest bed. The best meals. But he deserves it too, of course he does. He gets the most clients. He works the hardest. He deserves it.

The others get angry, jealous - caged felines foaming at the mouth thinking their bared teeth can cut through steel. Hyunjin doesn't mind their aggression, their constant attempts at tarnishing his name, stealing his clients. He remains on top, despite their faulty claws. He'll always remain on top.

Slowly, tiredly, he crawls his way beneath his blanket, eyes trained upon the darkened ceiling with a rattled wideness he's become far too used to. It isn't 3AM yet and so he stays awake. It doesn't matter if he's far away, winding roads and deadened stars apart from his house, his body still clatters against itself, alertness swathing him whole.

He can never calm himself down, can never let his eyes fall shut to the luring cage of sleep. It isn't 3AM. And so he waits. Just in case.

Thinking is something he tries to avoid doing. Luckily his day is too filled with rough hands and tight grips around his neck, endless arguments with the others on who gets more food and a droning restlessness of unpredictability to do so.

His skin does not itch as much as back home, does not sear itself with a need to unravel at the seams, to bury in soap and foam all of which is dirty. Hyunjin knows he carries with him brittle smudges still, of course he does, flesh-deep and bloody but he seldom has time to let his thoughts turn to agony anymore.

Compulsions, Ophelia called them, silly compulsions. Hyunjin think it's a nice word for something that hurts so much. Luckily he knows how to quiet them by now, how to numb them into tireless, murmuring waves. He makes enough extra money besides what he owes to keep them at bay.

But this night he's sober. Ophelia had confiscated his pills after he'd acted out, lashed and clawed at one of his clients when things got too unrestrained. Hyunjin is used to aggression, to coarse, clammy hands that throttle him to dust. He supposes Ophelia was right. The drugs were making him unstable, abrasive. She'll have to monitor his usage now.

He'd been angry, at first, almost blazingly so. Now he feels nothing, eyes blinking sluggishly into the vastness, shadows flickering like the critter-infested bushes of his old backyard. Then - a small, soft rattling coming from the edge of his room. Hyunjin bolts upright, eyes bulging. Someone's at the other side of the door.

For a brief, limitless-held second, Hyunjin swallows the urge to throw up. It's silly. Ridiculous. He knows his stepfather is far away. It isn't him. He knows it isn't. Hushed, frenzied whispers seep lowly from the other side as he gets out of bed. There are multiple people, the door handle creaking as it begins to turn.

Hyunjin knows why they're there. Jealous, no doubt. Thirsted, starved for the clients he earns. He works hard for them, works hard for his room and his food.

It isn't his fault they don't know how to put on a show, that they don't know how to wear men down with the simple curve of a smile and a willingness to do anything. They don't know how to chew them to muddy tar, chip away at their flesh until what lies inside can exhale itself into every crook of the world.

Hyunjin knows how to, his teeth are practically stained with the remnants of a shameful skin-cut pulp by now. They devour him, chew him to rags and spit him out, nursed to a curbing warmth by his own saliva.

Hyunjin does the same, cuts and claws his rifts into their muscled clefts, sure to make a mark, sure to make them remember him somehow, to be the shining, grit-covered jewel their minds wander to once the days get lonely and the hours sludge by.

That's why he's on top, why he performs better than the others. It isn't unfair. They don't know what being the best means, don't know the anger that fuels him. But it doesn't matter, he realizes, not now, not when the door swings open and he's clutching a small sowing needle in his hand as he gauges them carefully, their frenzied bodies entering.

The door slams shut behind them. There's three of them, those green-skinned felines with foaming teeth. Hyunjin recognizes them, all the same age as he is more or less, all frail with wild, buzzing eyes, all in smaller, dirtier rooms than he is.

Momentary surprise becomes them as they realize he's already up, up and ready. Clearly they hadn't expected him to be awake.

Silly kids. Hyunjin never falls asleep before 3AM.

It isn't hard to understand why they're there, small strips of moonlight filtering upon the tightly clutched scissors in the middleman's hands. He's scrawny, pale, with wide shining eyes. Like a tomcat. Hyunjin thinks if this were any other time he could have seen the rage burning within them in his own. But there's no time for that.

The tomcat lunges at him immediately, tackling his body to the dusty floorboards as the other two hold him down, his right arm waving frantically in the air with the scissors, their blades snapping in and out from each other.

Hyunjin swallows his panic, thrashing beneath his weight wildly as the scissors inch closer and closer to his hair, his head turning maniacally from side to side in an attempt to throw him off.

They want to cut his hair. Into terrible, ugly chunks no doubt. He'll lose clients then, he'll lose his room, his blanket. The scissors wave madly in front of his eyes, but he refuses to stop thrashing, the needle in his clutched palm tickling his skin in godless whispers. The other two seem nervous, scared almost with a weakened determination lingering on their faces.

One of the hands lets him go in order to fist tightly into his hair, grabbing it in chunks as his head is pulled forward and the scissors come closer and closer and he knows what that means, can see within his own silken locks the entirety of his future.

Hyunjin refuses to go back to the streets, he won't! With one of his hands now free, Hyunjin flicks the needle upright and shoves his entire body forward, the tomcat on top of him loosening his grip as he stumbles slightly backward, Hyunjin landing on top of him with one, quick thud.

And Hyunjin can't see what he's doing, how he could he possibly see anything other than the scissors and his hair, his beautiful black hair, like his mother's, just like his mother's, and maybe he should just let them cut it all off, let them bleed him dry of any remnants of his mother, yes, yes maybe he should let them but he can't see, only stabs with the needle, harsh and raging as it flies into the tomcat's ear.

A piercing shriek resounds throughout their entire lofty excuse of a house, the grip on Hyunjin's hair loosening immediately as the other cats stare down in horror.

The scissors are strewn to the side by now, forgotten. Small trickles of something deep and red flow from the tomcat's ear, his mouth howling in pain and face twisting in agony.

Hyunjin only stares. The tomcat's hands clutch at the sides of his head in desperation. The needle is still lodged in there, blood oozing out quietly. Hyunjin thinks still, only of his hair. His fingers curl against his strands, relief flowing through him. Still silk-woven. Still beautiful. Hyunjin does not know what he would do without his gift.

He tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about most things. He's become good at it, by now. It's difficult without the pills. Yet he tries. The pinprick of a sowing needle is nothing compared to his own withering death. And in that very velvety, scream-puncturing moment, Hyunjin thinks he's been dead for years.

He never sees the tomcat again. The others stop trying to tarnish his name. Hyunjin cradles the strands in desperate swells of protection, night after night. No one tries to cut his hair again. He expects Ophelia to be mad, but she isn't. He's still on top. Nothing changes.

Nothing changes.

 

-

 

Realistically, Hyunjin knows the strips of desert that carve the diamond-encrusted ridges of Nevada, barren beauty of the Sagebrush State, pale in comparison to the lush, vine-thickened forests guarded within the pages of the very fairytales he used to read as a child. Twisting, slim towers of cobblestone with white and pink flowers to adorn each curve, cascading streams of glittering turquoise water to nurture each creation of the magical; fairies, nymphs, dragons and elves of the otherworldly.

His own beauty seems plain even, against the shimmers of the fantastical, too human, too molded by dirt and stone to capture the reflection of a manmade moon in rays of a glorious hypnosis.

Yes, Hyunjin knows very well that meagre retellings of children's stories are far from real, at least here in the confines of his bleakened walls and colorless stepping stones and yet for one brief, palm-clutching second that extends itself throughout the night, he sees virtually no difference at all.

His outfit is far from anything grand, a simple denim jacket and jeans, black hair falling in strands upon his shoulders, eyes just slightly brushed with enough makeup to hide the remnants of sleeplessness that caress his skin.

Changbin had said it would be nothing fancy and yet the simmering flutters of small fairytale-like needles prick his flesh until he's become tingly all over, nauseous, lightheaded, intoxicated despite his untouched tongue.

Hyunjin's never been good at distinguishing the brewing feelings that choke him so and yet he's sure he's never experienced anything quite like this, the ticking clock upon his kitchen walls like a steadfast countdown to something he both longs to run away from and dive into head first.

When Changbin arrives exactly the time he'd said he would, Hyunjin's back straightens itself immediately, his fingernails in disarray from the time he'd spent apprehensively biting them, staring, staring, staring at the front door with restless limbs and a frozen breath.

He doesn't know what to expect, had never so much as been taken out to dinner before, the expanse of time he'd spent with boys his age mostly endured in the backseat of cars on the verge of falling apart. He thinks maybe someone had taken him to the McDonald's drive-through once, though he can't be sure.

As soon as he opens the door, his vision becomes clouded once more by hazy streaks of that otherworldly realm too high for him to reach, stomach clenching as his chest becomes tight. It isn't an unpleasant feeling, just numbingly terrifying in the brief second he allows it to consume him, a bouquet of white, snowy lilies greeting him warmly, the honeyed fragrant of spice and cloves gliding through the air straight into his apartment, snaking its way into his lungs.

Changbin smiles gently from behind them, stance eager and buzzing, muscles draped in an outfit similar to his own, leather jacket and black t-shirt in all its earthly simplicity.

"I thought you said nothing fancy," Hyunjin mutters, accepting the bouquet gingerly as Changbin grins up at him. He tries not to smile back.

"Flowers aren't fancy." Changbin eyes him amusedly as he finds a thin, glass vase to put them in, his fingers skimming along the petals for a few seconds, their softness like mantras to soothe his nerves.

"Yes they are." Hyunjin turns back to look at him, eyes narrowed playfully as he tries desperately not to let the feathery feeling in his stomach float all the way up. "I've never received flowers before." He pauses for a second, turning back to grin at him. "Oh wait, yes I have. From Jisung. And my stalker, actually. He used to send me flowers."

Changbin grimaces, forehead creasing as if to recoil. "Please don't place me in the same group as Jisung and your stalker."

Hyunjin swallows down a laugh, voice strangely low through the air between them as he speaks. "Well, they're beautiful."

"Like you," Changbin says, smile painting his face, the compliment easing out of him like clockwork.

Hyunjin shakes his head in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue as he starts making his way toward the door. "Getting cheesy already? The date hasn't even started yet."

"That was just a little pre-taste." Changbin grins, holding open the door for him as Hyunjin playfully rolls his eyes, stepping out into the hallway with Changbin quick in tow behind him. "And it's true. You look gorgeous."

Hyunjin ignores him, stomach clenching rapidly from where he stands. His limbs feel needlelike against the swimming depths of Changbin's gaze. "Where are you taking me exactly?"

"Best pizza place in the whole city." Changbin's grin stretches even wider then, the two of them walking in tandem until reaching the elevator, Hyunjin slipping inside with a heart increasingly accelerating the further away he gets from his apartment. "You like pizza, right? I couldn't find a cereal restaurant..."

Hyunjin's eyes narrow, arms crossing each other defensively. "Making fun of me on our first date? Not a good start."

Changbin only continues to smile, grin withering into something gentler and littered with subtle elation. Hyunjin's glare sharpens. "Why are you smiling like that?"

For a moment Changbin says nothing, only eyeing him amusedly before tilting his head, the sound of the elevator reaching the first floor almost making Hyunjin flinch from the interruption of silence.

Changbin beams good-naturedly as he walks backward out into the lobby, Hyunjin following him with a skeptic, weary gaze. "'First date' implies the possibility of a 'second date,' or am I being too presumptuous?"

Hyunjin scoffs, a small grin etching its way across his lips. "We'll see. So far I'm not impressed."

Changbin's exuberance remains just as relentless as before as he once again holds the door open for him, the darkened sky illuminated by the bright city lights as a subdued swell of heat somewhat settles his bones.

Hyunjin hardly gets to see the city at night on his days off, too spent muscle aching on his knees as he scrubs. Changbin leads him to his motorcycle, handing him a helmet as he grins brightly. "Then I'll just have to bring out all the stops."

"Which means?" Hyunjin accepts the helmet gingerly, placing it over his head as Changbin mounts his bike, Hyunjin following suit, arms loose around his waist from where he sits.

"Winning you over with my natural charm of course." He can practically hear the smirk in Changbin's voice as he speaks, his natural eye roll visible to no one but himself from behind the visor, the sound of the engine revving to life making the curls in his stomach suddenly twist themselves dizzyingly.

For a second he'd almost forgotten what he was doing, him, barren and sketched by meagre pencils of insignificance dipping his foot into inky embroiders of fairytale crests far too intricate for his understanding. "Hold on tight princess."

Hyunjin's arms squeeze around Changbin's midriff instinctively as the bike speeds through the broken asphalt of the city strips below, the luminescent building blocks pulsating through his veins like outreaching branches of the lightning bug scattered bushes in deserts far, far away, the winding pathways turning blurry against his vision, distorting each glare to the point where he no longer recognizes where he is - city, forest, imprinted within the pages of something not quite real?

Time passes through his mind sluggishly then, a sort of satisfying yet sinking sensation trickling its way down his body as he all but lets himself sit there unbound by any thought whatsoever, hands doing the only thing they're meant to as they clutch onto the torso in front of him.

He isn't sure how long the drive is, could be somewhere between mere seconds and years for all his dazed bones could know, the wheels coming to a sudden halt in a narrow, almost timid street as it shies away from the grandiosity of the highway. Blinking and disoriented, Hyunjin slowly dismounts the bike as Changbin follows suit, stomach flaring immediately once both of their helmets are off, momentary eye contact surging through him in an electric jolt.

Changbin only grins, leading the way into the tiny pizza parlor right in front of them, once again holding the door open as Hyunjin scoffs playfully at his courtly display, the low, soothing orange lighting bouncing off of the walls pacifying his nerves immediately.

The pizzeria is definitely not something fancy, quaint and charismatic with red square tables and black and white and tiles, vintage old-school posters and ceramic figurines of Italian pizza chefs littering the walls, the low hum of conversation filtering through the parlor good-naturedly.

Hyunjin breathes out a sigh of relief once Changbin escorts him to a table in one of the corners, the informal simplicity far more welcoming than he'd like to admit. Oddly enough he doesn't feel out of place despite the strangeness of what it is that he's doing.

"Cozy, right?" Changbin looks at him hopefully, sitting down opposite of him as Hyunjin's neck cranes around to take in everything surrounding them.

"It's nice." He smiles, discreetly filtering through his bag to thoroughly apply his hand sanitizer before reaching gingerly for one of the menus upheld by the condiment stand next to their table. Changbin already seems to know of some of his more obsessive hygiene habits, but he doesn't need to start displaying it blaringly in front of him either.

Whether Changbin notices it or not, he doesn't say anything, taking off his jacket and scanning the menu quickly as if already knowing what he's going to get. "And the pizza here is even better. A hidden gem, you know?"

"Mmh," Hyunjin hums, chin in the palm of his hand as he reads through all the different types of pizzas, stomach twisting in knots similar to the ones he'd felt in the ice cream parlor, the variety of flavors overwhelming him far too easily.

"We can order two and share if you'd like?" Changbin peers at his intense scrutiny with amusement. Hyunjin nods, eyebrows scrunching in frustration. He hates deciding things like these, each option ringing through his head with a million different outcomes of things that could possibly go wrong.

"See anything you like?"

"Um. I don't know." He places the menu down carefully, gut curling in frustration. Something as simple as choosing a pizza flavor shouldn't be this fucking difficult. "The cheese, maybe? Just pick your favorites."

Changbin nods, seemingly understanding his distress without so much as asking a question, grinning excitedly all of the sudden. "We can get the cheese and the hot honey pepperoni. It's delicious."

Hyunjin frowns, Changbin laughing gently at his scrunched up face. "Hot honey? That sounds weird."

"It's honey mixed with chili. I swear it's really good." Hyunjin bites his lip, doubtful and yet Changbin's insistent expression helps smoothen out his apprehension slightly. "Do you like spicy food?"

He tries to ignore the way his chest tightens, familiar feeling of humiliation coursing through him for no reason at all. "I'm not sure. I haven't really tried much..."

Changbin's eyes light up at that. "Yet another special culinary experience I get to witness then."

Hyunjin's eyebrows furrow. "Another?"

"Don't think I've forgotten about your little batter licking stunt." Changbin hums, gazing into him as if to playfully chastise, shaking his head in disbelief.

Hyunjin snickers, placing a hand in front of his mouth to hide his laughter. "Oh right."

"That was evil," Changbin says sternly, his unfurling grin betraying any semblance of severity.

Hyunjin smirks, lips tugging upward as a waiter starts walking toward them. "You still think about it, don't you?"

"Not answering that," is all Changbin simply says before the waiter takes their order, Hyunjin's eyes wandering unwillingly before he can stop them, tracing with them the outline of each curve and slope of his face, the slant of his nose, the tilt of his lips, the sheathes of ink that wrap around his arms like arching snakes slithering their way out of the jungle.

Hyunjin swallows, strange sensation plummeting through his stomach once again. As soon as the waiter takes their order and leaves, Changbin turns back to look at him, grin intact and hypnotizing. He rips his gaze away for a minute, scanning around the restaurant once again. "So how'd you know about this place?"

"Been coming here for years," Changbin quips, fingers drumming along the tabletop. "It's really close to the studio too."

Hyunjin frowns, the reminder of how little he knows about the man before him striking him suddenly. "Are you from here?"

"Yup. Born and raised." Changbin smiles, tilting his head as he peers into him with intrigue. "What about you? I feel like you're from some place exciting and...exotic."

"Exotic?" Hyunjin blinks rapidly in confusion, disbelieving smirk threatening to spill across his face.

Changbin only nods fervently as if already fully convinced. "Yeah, like New York or something."

Hyunjin gazes at him playfully, swallowing a laugh at Changbin's determined expression. "Yeah I'm actually from the far, far away land of Arizona."

Changbin breaks into a wide grin, eyes gleaming as if suddenly struck by small treasures previously unbound from shadows. "Arizona, interesting. I've never been. The Grand Canyon State."

Hyunjin shakes his head at his excitement, certain that Arizona was far too near and simple to earn such a reaction from anyone. "I've never been to the Grand Canyon either."

Changbin lights up then, back straightening itself immediately. "We should go sometime then! It's on my bucket list."

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, biting back a smile. "You just made that up."

An adamant shake of the head, determined stare, lips tugging upward in the inability to remain serious. The orange light flickers from above Changbin like the crackling of a sunset. "No I didn't, I love the canyons. I want to see them all."

Hyunjin only stares at him in disbelief, the urge to laugh surging through him in small rises as he tries to suppress them. "You 'love the canyons?' Name one other canyon."

Changbin seems to think for a minute, eyebrows scrunched up in deep thought as his gaze skitters all over the place. "Oh you know, there's that red one...what's it called? Ant! Ant canyon."

He does burst out laughing at that, hand covering his mouth as his eyes scrunch up in incredulity. "Antelope canyon?"

"Yes, that's the one!" Changbin brightens in recognition, eyes flitting across the hand trying to muffle his laughter with a small glint shining through them. He grins, feigned exasperation weak against his exuberance. "Don't laugh okay, I never graduated high school."

Hyunjin leans in slightly at that, surprise billowing through him. Once again he's futilely reminded of how little truly knows about the man before him. "Really?"

"Yeah." Changbin nods, an odd expression passing through him, something he assumes to be a mixture of resolution and small bounds of unwelcoming apprehension. "I got my GED a couple of years ago though."

"I didn't graduate either," he hums, placing his chin in the palm of his hand as his nose scrunches up in slight aversion. "Guess I took the whole 'drop out of school and become a stripper' thing a little too seriously."

Changbin opens his mouth to say something at that, his words withering in the back of his throat once a waiter approaches them with their order, two sizzling pizzas placed gently in front of them, the fresh smell of hot cheese and homemade dough wafting through him in waves of a strange, foreign comfort.

He can't remember the last time he ever ate out, much less something as messy and greasy as pizza. Almost nervous, he picks up a slice of the simple cheese with the help of two napkins, nibbling gingerly on the cheese spilling over the side as Changbin gives him an amused look.

Hyunjin only stares back undeterred, determined not to make a mess as he continues taking small bites. Changbin grins widely, once again drawn up in sense of joy he repeatedly fails to understand as he starts picking his own slices "What were you like in high school? I feel like you'd be popular."

"Not really." Hyunjin frowns, placing his slice down, stomach rumbling with a groaning sense of uncertainty. He isn't sure how much he should divulge, especially something as hazy and yet simultaneously jarring as the final slaughtering stages of his childhood. "Well...sort of. It was weird because I was really quiet in middle school."

The memory passes through him in sharp jabs, nimble limbs and a pounding heart running, running, running away from the other boys his age. He swallows it down sharply, picking up the pizza again to divert his attention. "Kept to myself and then I don't know what happened, all of the sudden people started paying attention to me. I didn't know how to deal with it, I just mostly tried not to fall asleep during class."

Changbin cracks a smile at then, eyes pooling with disbelief. "You, not used to attention from people? Crazy."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, accepting a slice of Changbin's pizza with a guarded expression, the strangeness of the flavor expanding upon his tongue in bursting waves. For a second he grimaces, not used to such spicy flavors and yet the subtle sweetness of the honey manages to balance it out the longer it sits nestled in his mouth, a pleasant taste lingering the more bites he takes. Changbin peers at him expectantly then. "You like it?"

"It's good." He nods, grinning slightly at the clearly satisfied beam that encompasses Changbin's face. "What were you like then?"

Changbin laughs then, an almost pained expression flitting through him. "I was a danger to the structural sound of the building is what I was. I accidentally set fire to one of the smaller science labs with Jisung once. The teachers hated us."

Hyunjin's eyes widen exponentially, the same threat of laughter bursting out of his mouth before he can stop it. He stares back in disbelief. "What? You're lying."

"I wish I was lying!" Changbin yells, grinning despite the obvious incredulity of his statement. "We were supposed to be doing a chemistry project and I don't know how but suddenly the whole table was on fire and it started spreading everywhere and everybody had to evacuate. Then we had to do like six months of community service to avoid juvie."

"What?!" Hyunjin's mouth drops open, eyes bulging. He smiles, shaking his head in bewilderment. "And I thought I was a reckless teen."

"That's like one of the tamer things I did," Changbin quips, harboring a lifetime of questions Hyunjin suddenly longs to be answered. "But I can't give away all my good stories right off the bat. Need to keep you hooked somehow." He winks, Hyunjin groaning in response, his eyes narrowing. "And how do I know you're not lying?"

"Ask my mother," Changbin laughs. "She has hundreds of pictures of me picking up trash from the side of the road."

A small string of giggles escape him then, eyes pooling in perplexity. "Why would she document that?"

Changbin grins, as if the answer is more than obvious. "To bully me mercilessly for the rest of my life."

Despite his words there's an underlying tone of fondness in there. Hyunjin can tell they have a close relationship. For a second a lack of understanding strikes through him, but he's quick to shake it off. "Okay well I don't know how safe I feel going on a date with an arsonist."

"Accidental arsonist," Changbin clarifies, nodding severely as if the distinction is more than important. "And my scientist days are far behind me now. Don't tell me you've never lit something on fire once?"

"Never," Hyunjin deadpans, snickering suddenly behind a small slice of pizza. "Only the stage."

Changbin's eyes widen at that, his mouth dropping open in a wide, stretching smile as he sits up straight immediately. Something eager shines across his face then, disbelief and amazement coursing through him in shimmers. "Hyunjin Hwang telling me corny jokes?! I think I need to get my ears checked."

Hyunjin groans, regret and embarrassment seeping into him right away, Changbin's shit-eating grin doing nothing to stop the heat rising up his neck. "Shut up. It's your fault. Your terrible humor is rubbing off on me."

Changbin's amusement only seems to grow at that, whole body buzzing in excitement. "Oh my god what's next, knock knock jokes? Please God, I hope it's knock knock jokes."

"Shut up." Hyunjin shoots him a glare, determined not to let his steely gaze falter.

Grin still far too intact, Changbin leans in across the table, voice brimming with eagerness. "Well I hope you know I feel very lucky being able to witness the comedic side of one Hyunjin Hwang-"

"I'm leaving." His eyes narrow threateningly, chest oddly light despite his embarrassing little joke.

Changbin's obvious amusement withers immediately. "No no no, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me, I always get nervous around beautiful dancers."

Hyunjin cocks an eyebrow at that, stifling a laugh at his relentless attempts of flirting. Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever met anyone this fucking persistent before. His stomach flutters, the feeling equally as annoying as it was becoming addicting. "Oh dancers, plural?"

Changbin's smile drops at that, head shaking in sincerity as he tries to clarify. "I'm sorry, I should've specified. I always get nervous around beautiful dancers with black hair, gorgeous smiles, pretty lips, a mole beneath their left eye and who carry the stage name of a certain orange native North American flower with black spots."

Hyunjin only stares back with wide-blown eyes, mouth dropping open as he tries to register what he'd just said. He lets out an airy, incredulous laugh, Changbin gazing back at him as if almost proud of his own unfaltering response. "That was insane. That was an insane sentence that just came out of your mouth. Did you rehearse that?"

"Nope." Changbin grins. "Impressed?"

"More like scared," Hyunjin stresses, his face muscles betraying him as a small smile manages to slip its way through.

"Sorry, I can't help it." Changbin shrugs, picking up a piece of pizza and beaming at him satisfied. "You just bring out that side in me."

Hyunjin's eyebrow tilts upward. "The insane side?"

"I was gonna say passionate but-" Changbin breaks into a laugh then, shaking his head in disbelief as Hyunjin covers a hand over his mouth, chest strumming from the bounds of his own laughter rising out of him.

"This cannot be what people talk about during dates," he stresses, once he manages to successfully subdue his titters.

"Oh no, I'm pretty sure people just ask boring questions and talk about themselves for hours." Changbin grimaces, almost as if the thought is too much to bear. "I'd much rather just incessantly compliment you."

"Don't," Hyunjin points, eyes bulging in exasperation. "I don't even wanna know what your brain is capable of coming up with after that."

He picks up another slice of the hot honey pizza, small bites pleasantly filling his groaning stomach as Changbin gives him fond, all too indulgent looks. Hyunjin ignores them, the pits of his stomach fluttering with nerves. "Ask me something boring instead."

"Okay." He nods, gaze flickering around the pizzeria for a few seconds as if in deep thought, tone light and casual as he lands back upon him with an air of overexaggerated severity. "How about this heat huh? Crazy weather we've been having lately."

Hyunjin's eyes widen immediately. "Oh my god I take it back."

Changbin only grins, leaning forward across the table, forehead creasing in contemplation. "So how long do you think this dry season is gonna last? 'Cause I've heard it's so bad it might turn us into a desert soon-"

"Stop it, stop." Hyunjin leans in as well, words swelling desperately around the edges in a painful insistence. Changbin, as persistent as always, only seems to be spurred on by his obvious torment.

"What's your favorite type of desert? Personally I like the subtropical ones-"

"I will literally pay you to stop right now," Hyunjin stresses, body tilting in despair.

Changbin nods, silence encompassing the two of them as he seems to consider his proposition for a few seconds. Hyunjin thinks he can recognize that theatrical display of taking everything he says too seriously anywhere by now. He groans.

"I only take payments in mean, sexy eye rolls." Changbin finally decides, Hyunjin's eyes rolling to the back of his head without so much as a second thought, Changbin grinning as Hyunjin realizes that he'd done exactly what he'd asked him to without realizing it.

"Exactly." Changbin smirks, seemingly satisfied. "Thank you very much."

Hyunjin only grumbles in response, biting back a smile as he takes another bite of his pizza. He peers down for a moment, almost surprised by the amount he'd eaten, usually too hyperaware of each bite and chew to let a mindless nonchalance manage to steer him so. The thought does nothing to comfort him, throat dry all of the sudden.

He smirks, determined to squash the thought to pulp as he leans in slightly, the urge to paint the conversation in a way he knows far too well overwhelming him by the second. "Okay no more boring questions. What's the craziest place you've had sex?"

"Oh." Changbin almost does a double take at that, laughter escaping him as he tilts backward against his chair, eyes buzzing around in thought. "Well...um...I don't know, like the woods maybe?" He narrows his eyes suspiciously then, playful skepticism streaking through him in waves. "Why do I feel like you're about to call me a loser prude? Do I even wanna know yours?"

Hyunjin only rolls his eyes, unable, once again, to stop the small smile flickering across him. "It's not that crazy. In church once."

Changbin's eyes widen substantially at that, whistling lowly as if impressed. "In church? Like inside the church?"

Hyunjin snickers, the memory anything but fond as it tunnels through him and yet a strange, irrepressible urge to let Changbin know seeps out of him in tenfold.

Changbin knows already, of course he does, has watched him bleed himself dry of an unchangeable nature night after night upon that blasphemous stage, weaseling his way into flesh and teeth the only way he can. Changbin knows, after all these months he has to know, so why does it feel like he still doesn't?

"Yup, during a sermon." He laughs, eyes glinting dangerously. "Snuck into one of the supply closets."

Changbin shakes his head in disbelief, arms crossing each other as if fascinated. "That's crazy, were you caught?"

"No, thank God." He takes a small bite of overspilling cheese, nibbling on it contentedly. "It was with the reverend's son."

Changbin's eyes widen, grin unwinding from his face. "No way. You just walked around town corrupting the Christians? Amazing."

Hyunjin laughs then, though his gut clenches painfully all of the sudden. For a second he feels like a fraud, conniving veins of a serpent conning their way into patterns too intricate for the coarse, muddied blood carried within.

His insides feel strangled as he swallows it down. "He called me the snake that tricked Eve once because I tempted him into sin."

"What?" Changbin stares at him in disbelief. "Well I would've been gladly tempted to sin by you."

The words strike him like hot, gold-imprinted snares to twist him barren and dry, the rifts in his chest deepening like caverns. The pain stings, a sharp ache spreading throughout him and yet it hurts only for reasons he cares not to divulge in. Instead he only smirks, batting his eyes playfully as he leans forward. "Haven't you already?"

Changbin grins along to his teasing, but looks almost solemn for a brief moment, as if seized by something desperate to convey its earnest. "I don't see it as a sin though, I wasn't raised religious. And not that I know anything about the Bible, but you're definitely not a snake. More like an angel if anything."

Hyunjin only blinks. "An angel?" That same horrid feeling from before curls itself around him like crumpled blankets of silk, pinching his head thin in childish folly, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hyunjin shakes it off, an airy laugh exhaling itself past his lips. "I've heard a lot of strange compliments but no one's ever called me an angel before."

Without thinking Changbin only gives him a disappointed grimace, words slipping out of him as if already having long since been engraved within. For a second Hyunjin believes that they might be. "And I think that's a crime. You're very clearly an angel. People are idiots."

He should know better than to let his mind droop into winding paths of glitter and gold, his own sludge-covered feet like catalysts to muddy each perfectly inlaid stone, the rim crusted with jewels of a daydream. Instead Hyunjin stares back at him pointedly, his stomach clenching in pain. It's okay, he thinks. He's used to it by now. "You're weird."

Changbin laughs at that, eyes scrunching up as he shoots him an incredulous look before pointing at himself questioningly. The throb in his stomach starts to spread, pinprick by pinprick like some sick, blackened illness to render his lungs in coughing shatters of trying to rid himself of the root. "I'm weird?"

"Yes," he says, fingers pinching each other discreetly. Hyunjin knows his disease is anything but curable, the mangy tar moth-eaten and old, an integral, decaying part of his worn-out flesh.

The orange light above Changbin deepens for a brief moment, the light cascading down his shoulders like the imprints of a ripened tangerine upon summer-wielding fingertips. Hyunjin swallows. "Very. I've never met anyone like you."

Changbin tilts his head, small smile dancing upon his face. Hyunjin wants to grab it, throttle it and crush it in two. Or maybe just clasp it right onto his own, lips numb and aching. He stifles a sudden shiver, blood running cold despite the comfortable heat. "Is that a good thing?"

He doesn't register the question, at least not at first, head buzzing with a sort of faint, irritating hum to scratch the bleeding wound in the back of his mind, droplets leaking out in thick, sinuous trails. Momentary horror overcomes him, every wakened crevice of his body screaming in the inability to accept the tragic fate of his illness infested lungs, the noise so loud he thinks something permanently ruptures inside of him.

"Yes," he says, after a while, his words so low they carry between them like nothing more but a terror-ridden whisper. He prays Changbin does not hear it as such, does not carry with him the same thin-skinned ears as he.

"I've never met anyone like you either." The quiet tremor in his voice glides across his skin like the softest gust of wind to smoothen out his creases, his bones slackening slightly from the way in which they remained strung and rigid. Changbin stares at him for a second, pupils flickering like lightning bugs amidst the darkening hue of ginger falling all around them, eyes gazing to the window for a brief, unreadable moment.

The twilight blackness of the outside seems to strike within him something gentle, something cosmic, something riddled with everything Hyunjin longs to lean into, let his muscles and tissues droop and pour until their fatigue can finally rest. Changbin turns back to him then, a small smile graced upon his face. Hyunjin's heart quickens. For once he lets it. "Wanna get out of here?"

He gazes quickly down at the plates in front of him, almost all of the pizza having been eaten by now. Hyunjin frowns, time slipping through his fingers before he has a chance to even trace its outline. "Where are we going?"

Changbin gives him a secretive, satisfied grin then, fishing forward his wallet as he leaves a couple of bills upon the table, hands threading upon himself his leather jacket as he stands up and makes way to leave. "I know a place."

For reasons unbeknownst to him, Hyunjin doesn't question him, simply follows the familiar patterns of broad shoulders and a knowing, touch-imprinted back molded by his own selfish fingers out the door of the pleasant pizzeria, the warm swelter a little more chilly by now, a gentle breeze wrapping its way around his torso like a flicker of something igniting.

As Hyunjin mounts the bike once more, arms folding themselves across Changbin in front of him, he has half the mind to make some silly joke about being captured and lead astray to murder. Somehow the words die in the back of his throat the minute the engine revs to life, wheels skidding off the concrete as his clutch tightens.

Even through the guise of a joke, Hyunjin somehow knows almost better than anything that Changbin would never do anything to hurt him, not even through the bloodied trail of his knuckles, or the momentary flash of rage he'd seen all those nights ago in his own shadow-infested apartment. Not even through the heart-seizing knowledge that Hyunjin still knows so little about the man his arms are wrapped around, does he falter for a moment in his assurance that no, Changbin would not do anything to hurt him.

The realization hits him like a brick, though he thinks he might have known it for a while now. His grip loosens slightly, head dizzying itself as the swarm of flashing colors blurs through his vision the more they speed up.

Despite the disarray distorting his eyesight, does he find the time to think, just for a moment, of any possible explanation, a reason, some fucked up string of guidance to pull him by. His mind whirls as he starts to recognize the slow subsiding of the large city encompassing them, the sky turning darker still as the roads wind into paths not of concrete but of sand.

What does Changbin see in him? Hyunjin turns around then, body twisting itself to look at the diminishing buildings and flourishing lights behind them, the city growing smaller and smaller the further into the desert they ride. It looks beautiful, like this. Far away and out of reach. Like something mystical, fantastical, a sketched out dream of legends to marvel at in the foolish passing of time.

Something to yearn for, to fantasize about, the temptation of illusionary beauty to fiddle through the loosened grip of your fingers, not really caring at all about the care in which it becomes handled, knowing in the end, that fables are mere works for children.

He turns around again, something prickling the corner of his eye, vision concentrating instead upon the red rocks and cacti plants of emptiness. At last the motorcycle comes to a halt, Changbin dismounting it eagerly as Hyunjin follows suit, gaze falling upon the scattered pathways of gravel beneath his feet, large stones surrounding them as Changbin walks up a small hill, neck craned backward as he casts him a beam.

Hyunjin smiles back, lips bleeding themselves dry of something he wishes he could rein in, feet following suit as he winds up the trail, mouth almost gasping in amazement as he reaches the top.

There, in the distance in front of them, lies the familiar silhouettes of reddened canyons, their unmistakable sandstone color still impossible to miss despite the darkness of the night, the city but a miniscule dot in the distance of grander, more majestic treasures to surround them with.

It isn't really the view which leaves his eyes widened and round in fascination, but the star-stricken sky shimmering and burning so clearly above them, untainted for the first time by the polluting lights of the city, stretching and stretching themselves like blankets to bid the desert goodnight.

Hyunjin sits down then, gingerly on the edge of a small rock as Changbin follows suit, head still slanted upward as he lets each mosaic of constellations sear itself into his mind like glittering pearls in the bottom of the dark, cavernous sea.

For a second he can do nothing but stare, mind emptying itself for one pacifying, carefree moment. His lips slip into a grin, eyes flickering back to stare at Changbin, his gaze already trained upon him intently. "Wow. This is...wow."

Changbin beams then, something flashing upon his face. He looks up briefly, smile widening as he stares. "Beautiful, right? You can see the stars so clearly."

Hyunjin nods, breathless almost as he tries to trace some of the patterns with his eyes, recognizing a few of them. It's colder out there in the desert in the lack of sun, a sudden breeze passing through him. He shivers for a second, drawing the denim jacket closer around him as he continues to look up into the sky.

"Are you cold?" Changbin asks, hands already taking off his own jacket as he reaches out his hand to offer it. "Here."

"I'm fine," Hyunjin says, brushing it off as Changbin's arm continues to remain outstretched and determined. He rolls his eyes, a small huff escaping past his lips. "I'm fine, seriously. You take it."

Changbin only grins, shaking his head adamantly. "I'm actually burning up. I'm taking it off regardless."

Hyunjin glares at him then, eyeing the jacket with playful contempt as he begrudgingly accepts it. "Idiot." Changbin laughs faintly at that, eyes brimming with nothing but fondness as he drapes it across his shoulders, the leather warming him instantly.

"Thank you," he mutters, trying not to let the way Changbin looks at him burrow its way into his flesh. He knows it already has.

Changbin says nothing, only smiling gently as he looks back up into the heavens, body leaning in slightly as he points. "Look, there's Orion."

"Which one?" Hyunjin follows his gaze, unfamiliar with any of the constellation names, eyes searching almost desperately to land upon the goal of his extended finger. Changbin leans in closer then, his breath tingling the side of his neck as Hyunjin determinately refuses to rip his stare away from the stars.

"See that one right there?" His eyes catch the strip of stars at last, three bright dots tying the constellation together right in the middle. "The one with the bow and arrow?"

Hyunjin nods, tilting his head as he tries to imagine the outreaching pattern of stars to be a bow and arrow, a soft smile escaping him once he sees it. Changbin grins, seemingly beyond satisfied that he'd managed to point it out.

Hyunjin shoves him weakly in the ribs, Changbin laughing as he slants his neck back upward. "He was a hunter in Greek mythology. One day he was killed by a scorpion sent by the goddess Artemis as punishment for falling in love with her maiden companions. The gods took pity on him and decided to honor his death by placing him among the stars."

Hyunjin frowns, the pictures blooming to life within his mind as he lets it for once run wild with the brightness of childish folly. He'd never heard that story before. "The constellation Scorpio actually rises each time Orion sets and vice versa. Some say he's still up there in the sky chasing the scorpion to finally kill it, others say he's hiding and forever running away from it."

He turns his head back to look at him, Changbin's neck still tilted upward as he stares into the sky, a strange tugging at his gut pushing him down, down, down. He swallows, fighting to ignore it. "How do you know all this?"

Changbin grins, gaze flitting back to his as his eyes soften. "Jia loves mythology books. I do too. I find it interesting how much of the nature around us already has some story written by those before us." Hyunjin nods, the words filtering through him heavily, quietly. "We always think about ourselves, but never all the lives and tales that once took place right where we sit."

He says nothing for a second, simply lets the silence around them unfold into fluttery, leaden trails of something uncatchable, something cooling against the touch. Hyunjin washes it away, looking back up again as he points to a smaller array of spattered out stars. He isn't used to that which doesn't burn. "What's that one called?"

"That's the Big Dipper," Changbin exhales, eyes following the trail of his finger, glimmering with the reflections of the stars above. "Or the Great Bear, in many Native American beliefs. The constellation changes position each season of the year. In spring, they believe she's climbing out of her den because the three stars of the handle are upright. During summer, the bear runs along the horizon, pursued by hunters - the three stars, again. And then by fall the whole constellation has rotated so that the bear stands upright, ready to defend herself. In winter, she lies down on her back, sleeping as she prepares for the new year."

Hyunjin tilts his head along with his explanation, almost as if trying to see the rotation of the bear with his own meagre vision. He breathes out a small laugh, turning back to Changbin as his eyes crinkle with fascination. "Wow. I always just thought it looked like a wagon or something. I've never seen it as a bear."

Changbin grins, the gentle wind tousling his hair just slightly. "Me neither to be honest. Sometimes I think it's more fun to make up my own stories. Jia thinks it looks like a saucepan. She says the sky is popping popcorn." He laughs then, eyes glinting at the memory. "Well not always. Sometimes it's making pancakes."

Hyunjin smiles, can almost imagine with a profoundness entirely unfamiliar the way her grinning teeth and sparkling gaze would come bouncing all around as she recounted her own version of the picture-bound stars. "She's funny." He stares at Changbin playfully, smile twinkling as he casts it. "She get that from you?"

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders as if there could be no other possible explanation. "Well...I don't wanna take all the credit." Changbin shakes his head then, back straightening itself as his voice softens. "No, she's uniquely herself all the time. I don't know where she gets it from."

"Mmh." Hyunjin nods, drawing his knees up to his chest as he wraps his arms around them. He lets head rest against his knees, eyes still imprinted upon the man next to him, his pounding heart having settled into a steady, soothing rhythm. "She looks like you."

"Really?" Changbin seems almost doubtful as he asks, something foreign ghosting across his face. His voice lowers slightly, tinted by a stripe of sadness. "I think she looks a lot more like her mother."

Something odd settles in the bottom of his gut, his fingers twisting nervously as he fiddles with the fabric of his pants. He isn't sure whether he really wants to ask, the question having lingered in the back of his head for far too long, a faint shadow never really making itself clear until now, beneath the illuminating whiteness of inescapable stars. "Where is she?"

"She's uh..." Changbin stills for a moment, hand scratching at the back of his neck as a strange gale of uncertainty and gloom passes through him. "She's dead."

"Oh." Hyunjin lifts his head back up again, his bones heavy from where he sits, doused in the vagueness of how he's supposed to feel. He doesn't know what he'd assumed, not really having wanted to give it much thought knowing the obsessiveness in which his mind spins. Still the confirmation feels like ashen salt upon his drying tongue. "I'm sorry."

"It's been a while now." Changbin looks at him then, gently, densely.

Hyunjin can't tell what it is he's feeling, his fingers almost aching in his own refusal to reach out and touch him, feel the softness of black hair cradle his own grip, maybe even dig mildly into his scalp, a small gesture to soothe him with. Hyunjin's heart freezes, his blood running. When the fuck had he become meddled into something so serious?

Changbin glances back at the reddened canyons in the distance, a wave of melancholy washing over him. "She died shortly after Jia's birth. Jia doesn't remember her but...she still asks about her here and then. It's hard for her growing up without a mother when you're constantly reminded that you should have one, you know?"

Hyunjin nods, sure, the feeling almost like a memory as it punches him in his gut. His mother had been there, not at all like the ones he sometimes saw on TV, her presence like the burning absence of everything his foolish mind had longed for. And his father...Hyunjin swallows, crushing the thought to waste.

A mere ghost, a speck of dust existing only through his own futile imagination, heart-wrenching daydreams to keep him going when everything turned unbearable, silly fantasies of someone strong and gentle and carved from his own wild-spinning head showing up one day and taking him far, far away. But God never answered any of his prayers. Hyunjin learned that a long time ago.

Changbin sighs, wistful he thinks, maybe even regretful. Hyunjin knows the pain of his words like the back of his hand and yet Jia...no, he shudders to think of her beaming smile and wispy, wind-fluttering hair ever being touched by something so agonizing.

"All her friends' mothers are very involved," Changbin continues, smiling softly in a throe of sadness, "all the books she reads, the movies she watches...she understands it better now than before, you know, that all families are different but still." He shakes his head then, his smile forcing itself into something not quite as desolate. "She's a very happy child don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's like she misses something she's never truly known. Thankfully my mother has been a very good female influence. Ms. Kim too."

Hyunjin traces the curve of his jaw, the slight drooping of his neck, the slumping of his shoulders with all that glimmers in his eyes, head resting back upon his knees as he breathes out gently. "What do you tell her? When she asks?"

Changbin gives him a soft, pacifying look almost as if he was the one in need of comfort and not the other way around. Somehow Hyunjin had a feeling that no matter the anguish that might strike Changbin from above, nothing about the way he'd regard him would change.

"Jia knows her mother is dead, I've explained it to her many times," he breathes out, gaze flickering down to the ground. "She likes to think that she's in the stars too, like the stories we read. I just tell her that she was sick. It's easier than the truth. To be honest I kind of dread her growing up and potentially having to find out what really happened. The story she has in her head is much nicer."

Hyunjin can tell, perhaps by the slight crease in his forehead or the culmination of surprise he'd let engrave itself into his veins the past few months, the refusal to smoke, the NA meetings, the guarded, almost protective way in which he spun Hyunjin around whenever in disarray.

The question is simple, quiet, a whisper almost through the miniscule distance between them and yet he thinks his words ring like chiming bells of something damning the minute it slips past his lips. "Drugs?"

"Yeah." The confirmation sits heavy upon their sandstone pathways, a strange numbness spreading throughout him as Changbin's gaze turns leaden and coarse beneath the milky radiance from above. He turns back to look at him, eyes pooling with things Hyunjin doesn't want to look into, too real, too real, too real.

Still he stares back, unable to rip himself away, knowing the shadows of his closed eyelids would be far, far worse. "Hana was...an untamable soul. We grew up together, started dating during high school." Changbin lets out an airy laugh, his voice anything but humorous. "I don't really think 'dating' is the right word...we hung out, had fun, did reckless stuff together, didn't give a damn about anyone or anything else. When it was fun it was fun, we never paid any mind to the lives around us. School, family, responsibilities."

He grimaces, a streak of shame running through him, his gaze turning regretful, fearful even of what Hyunjin might think. "But we were both in some pretty...bad environments. The 'fun' always turned into some fucked up shit."

Hyunjin only nods, unsure really of what to do, never once having had anyone to share memories with, much less memories too tainted and molded with dirt for anyone to fully digest. But he knows the strain of a locked up heart and mind far too well, his chest clenching in rattled nerves as Changbin's words weasel their way right into him, body heavy with the exhaustion of still holding onto things that hurt.

Hyunjin bites his lip slightly, eyes wide and glittering from where he still has his head rested upon his knees, his wistful silence like a chime for Changbin to continue.

He might regret it, he thinks, no, knows that he will. Yet he continues to look up into him, Changbin exhaling slowly as if grateful for the unspoken acceptance. He smiles, his words like weeds to match the fluorescing of Hyunjin's own lungs.

"Growing up, I was pretty poor. Money was always a struggle, sometimes it still is." He pauses for a second, clicking his tongue as if frustrated. "That's why I started working nights at the club, 'cause the rent increased. It was always something on my mind, especially 'cause my father didn't really take much responsibility around the house."

His jaw clenches then, subdued anger brimming quietly through the night. "Always wasting and gambling our money down the drain. My mother tried, she was a fighter for sure but...he wasn't a very nice man and...well, it was difficult for her. She sacrificed a lot for me and I tried being a good son but..." His anger floods away immediately, shame and sadness coursing through him as he diverts his gaze back to the canyons in front of them.

Hyunjin stares at the side of his face enraptured, heart beating so loudly he thinks it might come tumbling out of him. In fear, in adoration? He doesn't know, doesn't want to think about it.

Changbin sighs, voice turning scratchy as he speaks. "I got into some heavy stuff dealing drugs with some bad people. It was fucked up, of course I knew that but...the money was good. I managed to pay rent all by myself, pay the bills, give my mother money for groceries while my dad did nothing. I never took any credit, my mom seemed to think my dad was finally turning things around, but the minute she found out what I was doing she refused to accept any of it. It was too late for me to quit, I was too far in and...hooked, you know?"

He lets out a sad, almost strangled sounding laugh, the sound like something sharp and serrated through his gut. Changbin glances at him then, eyes scattered with small constellations of nerves.

"I'm sober now but...it's definitely been an uphill battle. What was worse was that Hana pretty much didn't stand a chance with how much we hung out together. At first it was pretty light stuff, just weed and alcohol but she spiraled fast. She did heavy stuff, drugs even I was scared to come near back then."

Changbin exhales then, a thousand words still left unsaid brewing within him, the inescapability of regret marring his face for a brief, painstaking moment. "I was stupid, we both were, we didn't really care about the consequences. She was still the wild, fun Hana I knew so what did it matter if she started doing crystal meth and shit like that?"

Hyunjin blinks, tongue like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth, eyes still round and big as he continues to stare, Changbin looking over at him every few seconds as if to make sure he's still there, still listening, an anchor to ground him with.

Hyunjin's chest tightens at the years of pain lingering within him, the feeling similar to when he was young and hiding in his backyard, waves of sadness taking over at the sight of a dead, helpless lizard upon the gravel. His stomach drops. He hasn't felt like that since then, the burning need to reach out and let the touch of his fingers mend something broken.

He keeps them firmly to himself, swallowing harshly. His hands never do anything but dirty the star-littered reflections before him.

Changbin gives him a gentle look before turning his head back to the side, neck craning upward as he stares into the sky. His words exhale themselves heavily through the night. "But she was deteriorating, it was obvious. We were constantly on and off and she turned extremely erratic and kept doing more and more dangerous stuff. She dropped out of school, she'd disappear for weeks and then suddenly come back with tattoos and piercings I'd never seen. She was like a completely different person but I still cared about her."

He blinks rapidly, eyes cast down to his feet. "I should've reached out more, tried to help her. I always got the sense that her home life was pretty bad but...like I said, I was stupid. I had my own issues, I was failing every class, I was addicted too and I was still caught up in that same environment dealing drugs."

Changbin sighs then, glancing at him as if guarded. "Then, one day my father was arrested. Um..." He lets out an airy laugh, rises of nerves scattered throughout his throat, "it's a long story, but he got sent away and so I stopped dealing after that, once I finally realized how much it was hurting my mother. Now it was just the two of us. But the addiction was still there. It wasn't just something I could turn off. I dropped out of school to work, to help my mom. Hana was still a constant in my life and then when were eighteen...well, she got pregnant."

Changbin grimaces then, as if waves of agonizing memories come rushing back to life. His jaw hardens, once more. "Safe to say, it was a shit storm. My mother was furious, Hana was...well Hana. Some days she seemed so excited about having a baby, she'd talk about baby names, look at baby clothes and she'd almost be glowing you know? Like she was ready to turn over a new leaf."

A small smile flickers across his face. Hyunjin wonders if he sometimes kept onto those memories, idle daydreams about something that could have been. For some reason the thought leaves an ugly, sinking feeling in his gut.

Changbin's smile tightens then, eyes flitting back up toward the sky. "But then a week later she'd just go back to her old habits, out partying, disappearing and she'd say the cruelest things about Jia..." a dark cloud slinks across him, tugging downward in anguish, "how she wanted an abortion, how she hated children and then she started trying to figure out how much money she could get for a baby. You know, for drugs. It was terrifying...and it was like a cycle. She'd get excited, then depressed and then back to only caring about money for her addiction. She was so erratic and my mother really hated her. I wish I could say I was any better but...shit."

Changbin exhales deeply then, eyes gleaming with shame. "I was horrified. I was not ready to have a baby, much less one with Hana. I already knew she'd dip the minute Jia was born. And I was working shitty jobs, earning minimum wage and struggling to get sober. How the fuck was I supposed to take care of a child? I couldn't even take care of myself."

Changbin shakes his head in exasperation, eyes still glancing at him every few seconds. Hyunjin listens intently, heart hammering louder and louder with each strained word.

"The worst part of all was that Hana's addiction only seemed to get worse during the pregnancy. I mean she was snorting coke and meth like there was no tomorrow and it was impossible to stop her. Her parents had kicked her out so she was living with us but she still found a way to sneak out during the night to get her fix. At one point my mother boarded up the windows but then she'd just turn hysterical, throwing things, screaming, doing anything to be let out."

Hyunjin bites his lip then, chest thrumming with nerves at the solemn expression that casts itself over Changbin, eyes hardening and simmering with an unimaginable ache. "When Jia was born...it turned into the most terrifying weeks of my life. She was born with neonatal abstinence syndrome. It's what babies get when their mothers use drugs during their pregnancy. Her condition was pretty dire. The nurses were on her twenty-four seven, she couldn't leave the hospital because they had to give her medication."

Hyunjin can tell by the way Changbin's entire body tenses that he must be reliving it, at least to a certain degree, struck by the fear of old memories coming back to haunt him. His chest tightens even further.

"Hana was nearly normal then, almost as if she finally understood how serious the situation was when Jia's life was so clearly in danger, right in front of her. She even paid the medical bills. They were huge. I don't know how she paid, I think she was dealing by then. Probably risked her life using the cash for herself...I don't know. I was too scared to ask. After a few weeks Jia was stable enough to bring home. My mom really stepped up to take care of her, Jisung and Chan too even though they had no idea what they were doing and Hana...well, she disappeared. Again. Honestly, I don't know where she went or what she was doing. I was relieved she was gone."

Changbin whispers the last part, words nearly inaudible as if ashamed to admit it. A heavy silence settles over them then, but Hyunjin knows there are still kernels of pain waiting to be unleashed, not quite yet, in a few seconds perhaps, maybe a couple of minutes. Hyunjin waits, patient, nervous, wide-eyed and aching.

The stars look even more beautiful then, somehow. Hyunjin doesn't know, their curls and gleams reflecting like ripples of water amidst the agony of Changbin's eyes. He opens his mouth then, breaths like droplets of tears to greet the warm, desert night.

"She overdosed a few months later. Somehow the police contacted me to confirm her identity...through Jia's birth certificate I assume. It was...I don't know." Changbin swallows, glancing down at his feet once again before looking directly at him, gaze simmering with things Hyunjin isn't sure whether he longs to understand or not.

"A part of me always knew she wasn't gonna make it much longer but seeing her dead was like an out of body experience. I'd grown up her with, I spent years with her. We had a strange relationship but still. I always cared about her."

"Did you love her?" The question escapes him before he can stop it, Changbin glancing at him as if surprised before it settles heavily across his face. Hyunjin thinks his veins might be freezing over in horror, shock pulling at him just as much at having ever uttered such words.

Changbin only sighs, tilting his head as if in deep thought, unaware Hyunjin hopes, of the inner turmoil tunneling through him.

"I probably thought I did back then at some point, when things were good," Changbin says, at last, shaking his head as if disappointed. "But I doubt it was love, you know? I don't really know what it's like...at least not like that. I don't think I'd ever experienced true love until Jia."

Hyunjin nods, raising his head as the wisps of silence stretch between them. For a moment he thinks back to the ice cream parlor, the way Jia had run into his arms the moment she'd seen him, excited, grinning, bound entirely by the cheerfulness of a youth unencumbered. He thinks he can feel something crack inside of him, shards of what he'd already known would come slicing right through him stabbing him viciously in the chest.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Hyunjin breathes out, Changbin's eyes upon him like a beacon in the dark. He wants to scream, wants to crush his own lungs with the mere rage of his fist until he's nothing, nothing, nothing upon the endless expanse of a star-spattered desert. "You've really turned things around though."

How could he sit there so childishly bathed in that juvenile delusion he knows only amounts to pain, to heartache, to everything he can never reach. "I mean, I could tell, Jia, she really loves you."

How could he let his bones water with the hope of something so unattainable, his mother's words ringing through his head, mantras to live by, mantras to die by. Rotten, dirty, disgusting and unlovable.

Hyunjin knows his place, the gentle smile upon his face like knives to numb his skin. "You seem like a great father."

"Thanks." Changbin returns a faint smile, shadows still swirling within him as he lets out a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. Hyunjin doesn't understand. How could he possibly think he would be in a position to judge anyone?

Changbin's words are quiet as he speaks, littered with shame. "I was pretty shit in the beginning though. The first year of Jia's life...I was barely around. After Hana died, I relapsed pretty bad. I was a mess, really."

His hands wring themselves nervously, jaw clenching and unclenching as if unable to help it. "My mother did everything. I don't know what I would've done if it wasn't for her. Chan and Jisung helped me get sober eventually. It was tough but I got my shit together. It took too long but I finally realized I needed to step up, be the father I never had. I just wish I'd done it sooner. All that time I missed out on..."

Hyunjin doesn't know how to comfort, has never once spent the night trying to divulge in something soothing and pacifying to anyone, perhaps to Bunny, perhaps to himself when he was young and terrified and had a stomach full of knots and yet it had never gotten him very far. He stares for a second, hoping at least the gentleness of the stars could do something to lighten the twilight.

"The important thing is that you did step up." Changbin bites his lip nervously, listening to him intently. "I'm pretty sure that's a lot more than most parents can say."

Frankly Hyunjin has no idea what most parents are like, but he'd seen the way Changbin had looked at his own daughter, the trust, the ease in which Jia had fallen into his arms, head tired and eyes drooping in their inability to stay awake. He imagines most of the world could only long for a strip of something as pure.

"Getting sober is hard, I imagine." He tries not to think of it, of the sudden thirst for something to overtake him with, pretty white lines, drops of small, syrupy heaven. Hyunjin swallows, scratching it away.

"Overcoming trauma even harder." He shakes his head then, the words far too low and in breaths of fearful whispers, mind quick and eager to stop digging itself down a hole. Hyunjin knows the caverns and hollows inside of him are anything but pretty. "And raising a child at nineteen? Considering how things turned out I'd say you did a pretty good job."

"Thank you," Changbin breathes out, quietude surrounding them in gentle, meaningful lulls. Hyunjin stares back, their eyes simmering with that same current he's become so used to by now, chest heaving slightly from the arrival of something new, something charged with a depth too murky for him to look down into.

Changbin smiles, the docile curve like a sick, sick jab to his gut. "Really. It means a lot. It was difficult. I mean really, really difficult. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. Jia's the best thing that's happened to me."

Hyunjin can tell that Changbin means what he says more than anything, carries within such simple, few words the entirety of his being, the pathway of his past and future, the very millisecond of the present.

For a moment he thinks perhaps he should just run away that very instant, force his leaden feet to stand back up and disappear somewhere into the expanding darkness, heart thrumming with the hope that the stars would not be able to shine their light upon him, guide him instead into the woven threads of the shadows. Where he belongs, where he was born.

Perhaps even the grit and fast-pace of a sin swathed city was not for him, not his rightful place, his rightful home.

Yes, Hyunjin knows his place and it certainly isn't here, not here no, beneath the shimmery beauty of the wide open sky, exposed beneath the starlight, unveiled by misty fog and heavy makeup and with someone who's finally managed to rid themselves of the dirt leaning in, closer and closer, the briefest touch of his jaw as it becomes tilted upward like feathers upon his skin, lips soft, gentle, giving against his own, a kiss born not from something he knows, something snowy and stainless and undeserving and he should pull away now, needs to pull away before the taste of rotten tar starts to leak from his own mouth and straight into Changbin's, before he tastes the wretched flavor of his own decaying flesh, before he knows, before he knows, surely he must know, must know what Hyunjin is and yet he doesn't, doesn't, doesn't, kisses him with the gloss of something real, something pure-

Hyunjin leans into it, just for a moment, one last, sweet moment before everything comes crumbling down, before he rips himself away, his heart cracking, bursting at the seams as he tries not to let his eyes water and really, he should punish himself for weakening like this, stupid, stupid child believing in things he shouldn't, believing in things Changbin shouldn't, Hyunjin knows better than this, knows better than to push over with his own muddied grip something that should be left alone, something whole and with love and pretty embroidery to cover up the rifts.

Changbin's hand comes resting against his jaw, mouth deepening the kiss, the taste of honey and murder upon his tongue as Hyunjin accepts it foolishly.

For a second he thinks of nothing, lets his lips move on their own as his chest becomes light and fluttery, lets himself fill with the air of a hundred balloons waiting to be let go and sucked back down to the ground, lets himself imagine, just here where no one will know, where there will be nothing left to trace it back, where he can keep his foolish daydreams locked away safely in the abandonment of a wind-carried desert, pictures himself not of blackened dirt and horrid names, not with bugs for lungs and illness for stomach, someone else yes.

Someone worthy of the constellations, of the chasmic opening right above them, someone worthy of a simple kiss, someone who can give and give and give without even so much as staining fabric with the inevitability of a teardrop.

Someone from another town, another home, untouched and cradled with gentleness, someone not in ruins. Not yet, at least.

And yet he should know better than to idly fantasize, the crushing realization of its falsity gutting him viciously the moment Changbin pulls back and his eyes flutter open, the stars just as bright, the heavens just as beautiful. Everything's the same, the same as that one, cherished, cursed second. Everything except him.

Changbin only smiles, beaming at him as if overcome by a happiness unbound by limits, his own smile stretching tightly as he tries not to vomit all over the sand. His head swims, confused, angry, hurt.

Something strikes him then, an ugly, twisting thought and yet it's the only thing that makes sense, that could possibly explain why Changbin's eyes linger upon him so, why he'd take him all the way out here, whisper into his ear about constellations and silly stories and yes, Hyunjin understands, understands his nature well enough by now not to question it, hands already itching to undress, to carve his own body into something alluring and useful, the stretching of a cat, the hooded eyes of a tiger, sweet, sinful moans of greed bursting on the tip of his tongue and-

"You know, I've learned so many things today." Changbin grins, breaking his thought into shards, its remnants scattering all around him, small cuts with which to let him bleed. "I've learned the Grand Canyon State has apparently been harboring the most beautiful person on earth all these years."

He laughs then, quiet and peaceful, the melody like fragrant drops of flower-petaled water against his ear. Hyunjin only stares back, chest fluttering once again. "I've learned the most beautiful person on earth also secretly has a very corny sense of humor and a very cute way of eating pizza." Changbin gives him a playful glint, Hyunjin scoffing as he nudges him back teasingly, the lightness in his chest doing nothing to replace the choking feeling in his throat.

"What?" Changbin laughs at his weak glare, hands going up in mock defense. "The way you eat pizza is very cute. I'm sorry, that's not my fault."

Hyunjin shakes his head, standing up abruptly as Changbin copies him after a few seconds, handing him back his leather jacket as a wave of coldness runs through him. "I can't believe I went on a date with an arsonist."

Changbin only grins, leading the way slowly back to the motorcycle, seemingly understanding his rattled nerves and their need to go home, to enclose themselves in walls of familiarity. If only Changbin knew the exhaustion that came with it. "Well I hope my fire-setting past didn't do anything to ruin our night."

Hyunjin stares at him then, back resting against the bike as Changbin hands him his helmet, eyes meeting his as he burrows into them sincerely, a small whisper caught in the back of his throat.

"No," he says, the wind quiet between them. He thinks whatever it is that's lodged in his throat is beginning to expand, tightening and tightening until it becomes difficult to breathe. "It didn't."

Changbin smiles, good, he says, body aching to lean in closer, to touch, to hold, to talk, talk, talk until the horizon bleeds that same tangerine orange from the pizza parlor back into the sky.

For some reason he doesn't, lets him mount the bike and walk back into his apartment with the strain of holding back, bound with the intention of respect, of not being too pushy. Hyunjin knows, knows because Changbin is good, too good and too real and too free of petty blemishes.

Hyunjin's flesh is littered with them, those sullied marks that imprint themselves upon everything, that dirtied touch of Midas. Another silly story. He really should stop believing in them.

His eyes bleed during the ride home, he thinks, small drops of ink as the colors of the city turn black and shadowed through his vision. He holds onto Changbin tightly then, selfish, as he mars something clean for one last time.

He blames the speed. And the lack of sun. He always does, in the end. It won't matter, his place of blame will remain in his head only.

He knows the sun won't come greeting him any time soon.

Notes:

ahhhh we’re making progress!! their first date 🥺 and finally changbin opens up about his own past, including jia and her mother.
this is probably one of my favorite chapters in the entire story, so i hope you all enjoyed it💕

 

see you next monday🫶

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 11: Nosebleed

Notes:

the first part of this chapter is quite heavy, so please be aware. i promise it’ll be worth it if you get through it🥺💕

There's a bright, jarring semblance of light from somewhere above him, a bulb coursing with enough volts to turn the beaming baby blue of the wallpaper bleak and faded.

Hyunjin doesn't know where he is, recognizes nothing in the room from its small, white painted bed to the generic, vividly colored array of toys haphazardly scattered upon the floor. It's clear that whoever's room he's invaded, that it belongs to a child.

The light flickers for a moment, on and off as he's submerged in a swathing darkness, doing nothing but staring idly at the glinting patterns scintillating before him - the shadowed illusions of stars and half-moons like misty haze upon the wall as the spinning night light reflects their dizzying silhouettes, his eyes fluttering shut as his head begins to twist.

Then, as if struck by the cord of his blindness, a ringing, humming melody resounds from the corner of the bedroom, the tune soft and eerie as it gently begins to open his eyes.

Hyunjin follows the trail of music with slow, guarded feet, body buzzing with a damning sense of curiosity as he spots the old ceramic outline of a music box discarded, the figure of the rotating ballerina like something ghostly in the passing shimmer of light gleaming across her face.

Her porcelain feet pirouette as if slightly delayed, the familiar timbres of the dancer's melody too fast, too quick for her fragile body to catch onto. Hyunjin stares, for a while, the expression upon her face difficult to discern through the flighty gleams that shine upon her, her haunting eyes and drooping lips too beautiful and long since dead for that which is allowed beneath the light.

The melody stops then, its death sudden and jarring as the bulb flickers back once more, the room submerged in that same horrid brightness from earlier, the patterns of constellations no longer visible upon the soulless walls as Hyunjin struggles to adjust his vision.

Ripping his gaze away from the music box, he comes to find that like with the promise of childhood, does the room fulfill its commitment of abundance, the toys from before overflowing from where he stands rooted and dazed.

He spots a bed, in the corner, feet nimble and yet heavy all the same as he makes his way toward its emptiness, the creamlike, white covers like a layer of snow to curl whoever's body sleeps within in it to biting frost.

Right now there's no one, bed wreathed in nothing but the simple dull brown fur of a teddy bear and a lonesome piece of underwear, the fabric chalky and bleached - a mere outstretching branch of the colorless duvet.

The bed is small, Hyunjin thinks, suitable for a child no older than seven though he can't quite be sure. He knows nothing of children, of childhood and sleep beneath a spinning, fairytale carved nightlight.

The round, beady eyes of the teddy bear bore right into him, a black bow around its neck as it slumps against the headboard. It looks kind, inviting even. Someone he thinks he could call his friend. Not now, of course, that would be ridiculous. Even in the midst of his sluggish state does he know that such ideas are far too young for him. But once, perhaps. Earlier.

In his vision does he see a hand reaching out before him, his own he muses, its fingers light and gentle as it cradles the teddy bear in his grip. His hand looks weird then, softer than he remembered, smaller even. The mellow fur of the little animal feels nice against his skin, soothing, pacifying sensations to lull him to sleep.

For a moment his eyes feel heavy, damp against the edges as they flutter in a futile resistance not to collapse shut.

His clutch around the teddy bear tightens, chest deflating as his limbs begin to sway, mollified to a gentle dreamscape, mind only a few, weakened threads away from succumbing to its embrace, so stifling, so calm. The bed looks more inviting than ever, a soft yawn escaping his mouth as the light bulb suddenly flickers off.

His eyes bolt open, muscles tensing in the darkness as his heart begins to thrum an all too familiar, grueling dance of speed. He blinks, once, twice, three times until the light comes flooding back into the room, momentary relief surging through him.

Of course he knows, though it comes as more of a shock there and then in the thickness of a sweltering, choking air of sterile youth, that repose is anything but constant, a fleeting, tiny promise of comfort never yielding enough to last more than meagre seconds.

Hyunjin's heart freezes as he stares down at the poor, withering teddy bear, its beady eyes hanging downward in loosened, gruesome threads as if having been gouged right out, a large rupture spilling from the seams in its stomach, a sharp rustling sound filtering from within, soft, horrid scuttling. Something's moving in there, something alive and with sullied feet no doubt.

Hyunjin screams as he drops the teddy bear, flinging it back onto the bed, the noise of his terror wilting somewhere in the back of his throat before it has a chance to come beaming off of the walls.

His mouth is open, he thinks, frozen in shock as the all too familiar vision of insects begins to leak, small, black, grimy bugs pouring out of the little bear in tenfold, crawling their way across the bedsheets in repulsive little movements.

His legs move back immediately, hands covering his chest in a childish instinct to protect himself, eyes flitting over unwillingly to the lonely piece of underwear discarded somewhere in the distance, whiteness splattered with droplets of something red, something red and painful no doubt.

His stomach plummets, a sick, nauseating feeling stringing itself through him as the amount of blood begins to double, the crimson liquid spilling over from its folds as it trickles onto the bed. Tempted by the sweet, earthly scent of blood do the insects come scuttling over in earnest, latching themselves onto the poor, neglected piece of underwear as if feasting on its slow decay.

He watches in horror how the fabric withers to mere scraps and rags of something forsaken, the trail of bugs from the teddy bear consuming it with joy, that meagre token of a child a thing of the past by now, an ugly sliver of something to throw away and bury in the back of the yard.

Hyunjin spins around then, wills his body with all the might he can muster to rip away from that wretched bed, limbs stumbling as he knocks into the toys strewn all over the floor, the amount much larger than he remembered, each doll and figurine and horrible plastic imitation cluttering the room so much he hardly has the means to move.

He recognizes none of them, those shiny playthings he thinks he remembers eying other children in secret envy over, their brilliance ebbing away immediately as he can but stare with a haunted, frozen gaze.

Surrounding his feet, do the toys begin to warp into something else, their plastic and velvety seams mangled and melting as hoards of bugs pour from the chambers of their hearts, contorting their doll-like faces into gruesome, overcast splinters of monsters.

Hyunjin recognizes those monsters, had refused to sleep in the fear that they might come tormenting him from the books he read and yet now they're all around him, bleeding and crying out scuttling, greedy insects, their little feet and threatening pincers crawling up his leg as he tries to move, to run away and yet he can all but stumble into the toys behind him, their outlines falling into the same fate as soon as he touches them.

He thinks he tries to scream in terror, at least with the way in which his chest constricts and tightens and yet no sound comes out, only the continuous rustling of critters that encircle him, spilling from each toy like waste of the human body, dancing and biting against his flesh.

His limbs feel rigid and strung so densely he thinks they might come splintering into large chunks at any moment, heart beating wildly from within his ribcage, sharp, gut-wrenching thuds to frighten him with, render him hysterical and shaking in his inability to move, to let the feasting bugs consume him.

Hyunjin hates being scared, hates it so so much, hates how his palms turn sweaty and trembling, how his eyes leak with those awful, wretched tears his mother scolds him for - such a repulsive crybaby that can never stop weeping - hates how his legs quiver, how his stomach churns and churns and churns and those bugs, those stupid, ugly bugs, so disgusting, so ghastly as they tear their way right into him, hungry, hungry, hungry.

His room too, yes his room too, how he detests it, especially now, especially now as the baby blued sky of the wallpaper comes peeling off, revealing the true strips of rotten wood and foul, putrid smell of childhood, he sees it all now, recognizes each and every thing from where he stands frozen and on the brink of death, that awful bed, that flimsy blanket, that stained, spoilt underwear except it isn't white anymore, of course it isn't, that one he thinks belonged to someone else, this one is red and dark and he isn't sure whether it's from the blood or from the lacy, pretty fabric and the smell is rotten and rancid, the insects decomposing of it gladly as it turns to nothing more but crumbs of sin upon the sheets.

The lights dim then, flickering on and off and yes Hyunjin knows that they do, of course they do, that lightbulb hasn't been replaced in years and then suddenly the melody returns, the soft, gentle humming of a ballerina's ballad filling the air but no, no, no, something's wrong, yes something is terribly wrong, the bugs having no doubt gotten to that poor, dancing little girl as the tune turns strident and discordant, the song seeping from it the pretty rules of music as inharmony festers in the air.

Hyunjin shrinks from the awful sound, the melody grating against his eardrums as his bones continue to shake, the amount of critters crawling their way up his leg having now reached his stomach as they bite and tear and burrow their way straight into his gut.

He can't breathe, he thinks, can't breathe from their awful smell and that wretched way in which they touch him and yet he lets them, lets them feed their sickened bellies, his throat sobbing as he stands there, frozen, stuck, no other place to hide, no other room to call his own.

His body jumps then, flinching from the harsh sound of knocking against the door, someone's fist beating and beating and beating as it tries to be let in, the handle rattling uncontrollably as sudden relief strikes him, thank God it's locked, thank God, thank God.

He can't tell who's behind the door, desperate to let their feet burn against the flea infested floorboards, can't tell if it's someone that pointed to the constellations with him once, if it's the restlessness of gullible legs submerged in bright, red rainboots, the sharp talons perhaps of black hair and a foaming mouth to baptize him rotten, maybe the harsh, wandering grip of someone else even, ready and eager to graze against his thigh, skim along the flimsy threads of his underwear, tugging them down, down, down, just low enough for the beasts to properly feast.

If it's the last, Hyunjin knows the momentary pacification of his door being locked is nothing but temporary, hands strong enough, devoted enough to rip that door right off its hinges, yes he's sure, knows it like the inevitable scuttle of doom creeping all over him and yet he doesn't think he could handle it being anyone else, no, no, no, not in the sight of him like this, covered in horrid bugs and tiny monsters as they devour him, his skin turning an ugly, horrid shade of something bruised and decayed, body shrinking and falling to the floor in one pitiful, downcast heap of limbs rocking back and forth, back and forth, the rattling handle only increasing in speed, the jarring noise so so awful as he sits there, his stomach sinking and sinking with each spike in his heart, flesh tingling like needles as he waits, waits, waits, the bugs breeding from their own rotten bodies even more of their crawling feet and then the sound stops, stilling for a moment and Hyunjin knows what's coming, can feel it before he sees it as the door opens, one slow, creaking movement to murder him with, footsteps from someone heavy and grasping and with seams spilling of insects ready to cradle him to a haunting, forbidden beauty and slaughter that wasteful, undeserving trail of youth and-

Hyunjin bolts up right, chest heaving as his eyes bulge wide-eyed into the darkness, the familiar patterns of his room seeping their way languidly through the lack of light as his hands shake uncontrollably against the threads of his t-shirt, the fabric overflowing and soaked in dreadful waters of sweat.

His breathing remains ragged, erratic as he tries to settle down, the faded imprints of dirtied insect footprints like the touch of a ghost upon his skin, sharp and prickly as it glides through him in waves, his fingers itching and scraping down his body as his mind grows desperate to claw them away.

Harsh enough to leave a small, pitiful sounding gasp resound throughout his bedroom, do his fingernails dig into frenzied flesh, grazing their way down his arms, his chest, stomach, everywhere, everywhere he can feel them, those horrid little creatures.

Hyunjin resists the urge to let his eyes squeeze shut in pain once he scratches down his legs, refusing to let the blackness of his eyelids begin to seep back with the bleached colors of his nightmare, biting his lip instead as he concentrates with vigor upon the determined blades of his own grasp.

It hurts, of course it does, but he seldom minds the pain, not anymore, not when there's so many other things that ache within him. He manages, after a while, to steady his breathing slightly, waves of panic rolling off of him in the dawning of something dreadful and numbing to spread across him instead, seizing his bones in a terrible, deadening realization.

His fingers tremble as he slowly makes his way out of his bed, feet cold against the floorboards as they tread heavily into his bathroom, legs collapsing onto the tiles as soon as he's inside, body hunching together through the muffled sound of ugly, long since repressed sobs to render him quivering.

But Hyunjin hates crying, detests it, that wretched noise of weakness, screaming lungs of a baby uncradled and deserted, tears pouring out of his eyes like thick droplets of something that's been clogging the faucet for years and years, its clearness having turned murky by now, contaminated no doubt by the rust of neglected steel.

For a few minutes he does nothing but sit there bathed in a dull sense of hysteria and childishness, sobs rippling through his chest as his mouth-covered hand attempts to stifle them, chest tight and heavy and throbbing with the force of things he'd almost forgotten he was capable of feeling, mind only trudging into a static cavern of silence once his throat begins to ache, sobs turning into pitiful sniffles instead.

Hyunjin exhales then, slowly, raggedly, determined to calm down, hands wiping at his eyes furiously as his vision eventually manages to clear.

With shaky, spindly legs he stands up, stripping himself of his sweat-drenched clothes as he steps into the shower, gaze refusing to let itself linger upon the mirror, the picture of his watery, reddened eyes and haunting cracks of skin enough to make his stomach heave in sudden waves of nausea.

He wonders if anyone would notice him like this, stems of a tiger lily harshly plucked and uprooted, its petals falling off in shameful chunks back down into the earth. Hyunjin swallows, shaking his head. No, no, no, no one will know. No one knows.

How could they, he's kept his little secret tightly held within his heart for as long as he can remember, guarded and dulled around the rim from the blunted edges of his lung-grown thorns. No one knows.

He thinks of nothing as he showers, hands moving automatically as his mind buzzes in a strange, dizzying haze, eyes hardened and unfeeling as he smothers his raw, reddened body in lotion, gaze trained rigidly upon the unrecognizable reflection in his mirror.

He looks like nobody then, face uncolored by the vividness of flowers, too grown, too filled with hatred for the same pooling eyes of his younger self, wispy like the wind, uncatchable as it strays between the fragile cracks of reality and illusion.

His day trudges on like fleeting memories to momentarily enliven him with, the occasional picture and jarring recollection of last night rendering him sick and ghostly as he tries to let it pass through his mind unscathed.

A fruitless wish really, and Hyunjin had known that since the moment he'd agreed to go on such a stupid, god forsaken date, his heart withering to pitiful remnants of that cruel, wretched knowledge of never being able to carry with it the entirety of its desires.

Years of being poisoned by the warped affection of someone else, never getting attached, passing from person to person in the simple way of living life as he knew, fastening himself into the rims of spiderwebs like flies ready to be fed upon, flesh suckled to the point of decay, yes he'd been careful, of course he had, fully convinced of the folly and foolishness of dreamlike feelings, of romance and relationships, of imprinting himself upon the spattered pages of someone else.

He wasn't stupid, knew well enough that such things weren't for him and after all he'd never felt anything of the sort, had never let his chest flutter or throat sooth itself with small, lighthearted rises of laughter simply for the sake being carefree and radiant. And yet now-

No. He shouldn't think of it. The more he lets the idea linger in his mind the more painful it becomes, like thunders of a torturous desire he can never reach.

He might be sullied and greedy and chewing the muscled clefts of desirous skin with the conviction of the starved but he isn't selfish, at least not selfish enough to let his tainted blood engrave itself upon someone else, someone far undeserving of such murky, washed up colors and contaminated past.

Especially when he'd already been through so much, the two of them having clawed their way up slippery canyons eager to let their feet skid down to their demise. The last thing they needed was Hyunjin pushing them back over the edge, his beauty like the contorted trick of the devil to slaughter the innocent, those not yet cut by the barbed wire of an inevitable sin-stained life.

He needs to know his place. Needs to keep away. And if the decision leaves him crouched upon the floor in an endless spillage of sobs then it's okay. No one will know. No one ever knows.

At work he's thankful for the momentary oblivion of cocaine, limbs dancing and spinning as always, the polluted stage lights turning him electrifying beneath their glittering darkness, mind dizzy and whirring in the rapture of concocted bliss.

Jinyoung keeps giving him long, hazy stares of something that itches painfully no doubt but Hyunjin hardly pays it any attention, slithering through the cracks of the night with the speed of a hummingbird, a phantom too quick to grasp onto.

He can't remember the last time he'd let Jinyoung's touches graze against his skin, scuttling away like a nervous little spider any time he comes near, stomach guilty and sick as he tries to justify his own cowardly escape.

Changbin, as professional as the sturdy expression he always bears, falters in his own principles, strips of his true bleeding feelings seeping away through the facade of steadiness, eyes casting him longing, pained gazes of something that rips its way straight through his heart whenever Hyunjin catches sight of it.

He approaches him as usual after his stages with a robe and water bottle, brows furrowing immediately at the notice of Hyunjin's faraway state, his eyes glazed over and distant.

Hyunjin weasels his way out of his persistent attempts to talk like an oily serpent, silly questions laced with concern to repeat over and over again through his bumbling sleepless mind. He thinks Minho makes some sort of rude comment, Felix chirping at him brightly but he doesn't remember.

Doesn't remember anything from that night, only the sludge of the muddy path home to his apartment, feet quickening with an electric current of panic as soon as he steps out of the club, legs picking up speed as he runs back home, bolting away from whoever might try to stop him, running, running, running until he can hardly breathe, lungs compressed and throbbing as soon as he's burrowed his way back into his bed.

For a second he wonders if he was running away from something - someone? - though he can't be sure. That doesn't sound right. Who would he be running away from here anyway?

Sleep eludes him, though it isn't unexpected, not with the way his eyes remain wide open and bulging as they stare into the rifts of his ceiling, shadows filtering upon it like crackling branches of a dark October night.

His mind is anything but hollow then, filling itself with heartaches like sick, aching cavities as he can but let them sear themselves into the tissues of his brain, throat prickly and chest tight. He can't do anything about it, no, doesn't know how to carve them away, squash them to pulp with the grip of his fist.

His strength is too weak for such things, at least there beneath the outreaching silhouettes of spindly talons trying to strangle him. He feels scared then. Scared and small and terrified straight to his core, his body the size of a meagre toy rupturing at the seams, a helpless, puny child with the weight of a ragdoll. Ready to be disposed of. He doesn't sleep that night.

It takes about a week for lilies to wilt, he finds out.

Their snowy petals stare him in the face from his kitchen counter as if to mock him, cackling in their pearl-hued innocence at the droopy way in which his body leans over, his own floral leaves withering at the same excruciating speed.

Yesterday, Wednesday, he had hardly been able to look at them. Now, he thinks, he looks at anything but, fingers skimming along their softness with a harrowing sense of desperation, cradling their whitened petals in the palm of his hands with the delicacy of knowing it won't be long lasting, their beauty cruel and religious on that ill-fated Thursday.

His knees ache then, limbs spent hunched over and scrubbing even longer than usual, fingers throbbing as they try to make the gleam of his apartment as spotless as those of lilies he doesn't deserve. He thinks someone tries to call him that day, but he tries not to think of it, won't let anyone distract him from doing what he needs to do, what he has to do lest he succumb to that horrid fate of his nightmare.

His energy dwindles by the time he slinks into the club, bones tired and jittery all at once, the lack of sleep spinning around in his head like a taunting, unmelodious lullaby to grate against his skull. The cocaine works fine this time, though it isn't as good as it used to be, his breathing turning erratic more than usual, nosebleed like clockwork throughout the night.

He stains multiple outfits and Jinyoung forbids him from taking anymore that shift. Whatever, whatever. Hyunjin doesn't care, he doesn't. He doesn't care, he doesn't fucking care about anything, about stupid fucking Jinyoung or Minho and his godawful snide remarks like puncturing needles to jab him with or Felix and Changbin always smiling and talking and it doesn't bother him, not at all, he doesn't care about Felix's blond fucking hair or untainted smile or crinkling eyes unbound by years and years of a wall-carved sin to render the air in his room rotten and moldy and absolutely putrid from decay.

It doesn't matter, doesn't matter because his legs run like there's something after him the moment he's finished, bolting like a madman probably, to some at least, though he thinks it's more reminiscent of his scorching feet burning across the school courtyard playing tag, limbs quick and flighty as he tries to hide, hide, hide.

Hyunjin was good at playing tag, good at sneaking away, slithering into the dark corners where one became sightless, yes he was excellent at it. Not at home. Playing tag in his house was a terrible idea, there were hardly any spaces where he couldn't get caught.

No one catches him this time though, his chest panting the minute the door shuts closed behind him, his eyes glaring at the brightly perched lilies as he barrels for the shower, the scalding water burning his flesh to cinders in that all too welcoming ritual of death.

Someone sends him a message before he goes to bed. More than one, actually. He peers at them quickly, stomach simmering with nerves. There's that name again, the one embedded in the constellations.

Are you okay? What a stupid fucking question. Please, can we talk? No, no, no, talking is for those whose tongues are ridged with anything other than saliva. Did I do something wrong? His gut retches at that, the horrid feeling of guilt flooding through him like the crashing force of a tsunami.

His guilt is nothing compared to the damage his fingertips are capable of should he begin to spin his web, yes this he knows, and yet the sensation curls itself around the edges of his heart like thick vines furrowed with thorns. He feels sick. Sick children can never sleep. He'd learned that a long time ago.

It's okay. It's okay because his lilies are still gleaming and milky on Friday and so he forces himself out of bed with a nauseating gut and a buzzing, droning mind.

His migraine doesn't appear until after his shower, blemishes blooming upon his knees like a shakily held paintbrush splattering its work all over from the harshness with which he cleans, body digging and digging into the floorboards as the clover unfolds, onetwothree onetwothree onetwothree again again again one, two, three, the numbers salty upon the roof of his mouth as he lets them tumble around for the remainder of the day-

One, - why did Changbin have to take him on that fucking date, why on earth did he ever agree to that - Two, - what would he need to scratch out of his body to replace himself entirely, become someone else, someone worthy of a lily's forgiveness - Three, - why is everything in his apartment so fucking submerged in dirt and mud all of the sudden, his flesh stinks, rancid, horrible repugnant smells to choke him with - One, - he can't fucking do this anymore - Two, - he thinks he needs to run far, far away - Three, - wait, hadn't he already done that?

Fridays are his busiest nights, the stage lights a murky, seductive red as he slinks into the splits, low, thrumming music unraveling his limbs from upon the pole, spinning and spinning and spinning and fuck he's dizzy, so so fucking dizzy and he thinks he probably shouldn't have mixed alcohol with cocaine but it's too late now, at least Changbin's stare doesn't hurt as much, his chest fluttery and numb and squeezing in momentary jabs of something painful but he ignores it, twirls and stretches upon the stage as the watchers soak him in, feasting upon his allure, his beauty, the temptation of the forbidden and all that he is and he isn't quite sure what routine he's even doing, but it doesn't matter, doesn't matter, his limbs yielding themselves to captivation regardless, back spent bent and arched in the private rooms as fingers graze all over him, head high high high as he laughs at something terribly unfunny.

Changbin tries to talk to him again, yes he comes knocking as always upon the cedarwood of his dressing room door but Hyunjin doesn't answer, ignores it, sows his lips shut with wide, bulging eyes, body frozen in terror as he stands rigid and upright on the other side of the sound and who is knocking, why is there knocking, no no no, they can't come in, can't come in, this is his room, his room, not anybody else's, why does everyone always fucking barge their way into his room and fuck, his heart spikes up, what if it's the bugs, what if it's another trick, another trick like in his dream - memory? - what if there's someone there waiting and waiting and ready to burst out with scuttling insects the moment he touches them and no, no, no, better to let it be, better not to open, to let the bugs pester him another day.

The knocking stops, eventually. Good. Good. Hyunjin breathes out a sigh of relief, his vision filling with white spots. He's tired. Sleepy. But he can't sleep. Can't sleep, of course he can't, not when the back of his eyelids always paint themselves with the most gruesome of colors the moment he lets them fall shut.

And so he stays awake once again, legs running clumsily back home before anyone can talk to him, feet stumbling from the disarray in his vision and he thinks he accidentally falls once but it's okay. He makes it home, makes it into the withering sheets of his bed as he stares into the ceiling.

And he stares and he stares and he stares until he can't anymore, eyelids heavy and stomach nauseous as he lets the darkness encompass him, smother him in another stream of horrible, gruesome brushstrokes that bruise against his skin.

He can't remember his nightmare that time. He thinks it had something to do with school and something sticky that clings against the inside of his legs all day, all day long as he waits and waits and waits for the bell to ring so he can run run run back home and scrub it off. Until, of course, it comes leaking back to life again.

His dream doesn't matter, not when he knows so effectively how to forget all about it, chest tight and vision blurry as he cleans and scrubs and polishes the rotted walls of his home, over and over and over again.

Three times, yes how he loves that number and all its hatred, so easy to count to, so easy to spell and draw and rhyme with. Three and tree, like the old oak tree he'd eat his lunch by at school and then there's see and tea and plea and glee but those are easy words, yes he knows more than those despite what his teachers say like banshee and carefree and even beastly and-

Hyunjin stills, body freezing, hands stopping their soap-soaked circle immediately, eyes narrowing in fearful little slits as he stares at the trail of bugs upon his floor. He'd never seen them before, no he'd never had bugs in his apartment. He'd been scared of that so he made sure to keep them away. Away! They were supposed to be far, far away so what were they doing here?! No. NO.

He blinks, chest collapsing in fear but then there's nothing. They're gone, a mere ghostly speck or illusion to taunt him with. But those crawling critters are tricky, yes they are, perhaps they'd burrowed their way in somewhere else.

Slowly he leans forward, cautious, guarded as his neck cranes around, eyes alert on the lookout for where they'd run off to. They can't hide from him, no, he'll find them eventually and then he'll make sure they're gone, he'll squash them to little pieces before they ever have the chance to feast upon him again.

But there's nothing, now. A game then. That's fine. Hyunjin's good at games, especially on Saturdays. Especially hide and seek.

He'll find them later, yes, the sun turning a dusk-stricken blush outside of his windows, his witching hour just on the brink of the other side. He glances at the lilies then, the top of their stems leaning over just slightly as if taking a short little break, resting their heavy heads for just a moment.

He rips himself away, back at the club, spinning around the busy haze of a Saturday with all the enchantment he can muster, magnetism still as intact as ever, perhaps even more with his head so exhausted from the lack of sleep that it turns floaty and bubbly and charming in all the wrong ways.

Changbin isn't working today, but he's still there, in his mind. Etched upon his skin as he hooks his leg around the pole, lips imprinted upon his chest, his neck as he lets his torso drop back down, upside down and loopy and it's all Changbin's fault, Changbin's fault, memories of everything he wishes to douse in gasoline burning him to ashes as he twists and stretches and bleeds, bleeds, bleeds.

He thinks of Changbin in the ruptured alcove of time in his private rooms, in the melting walls behind his vanity mirror, in the outpour of tears as he runs all the way home, legs collapsing from fatigue the minute he's back, back, unholy and unable to sleep.

He thinks of Changbin as his eyes gaze upon his ceiling, the shadows like swirls and curves of tattoos, of dirt and rain and stars and everything earthly, earthly and hallowed. It's unfair, he thinks, and cruel. How can he mourn something he's never even had?

For a second he thinks of calling him, of responding finally to the hoards of messages, of sobbing and screaming and demanding that he come and give him what he wants, what he doesn't deserve, what he'll no doubt end up shattering with his grip.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He can't. He's busy. Busy feigning sleep and trying to find those nasty little bugs again. In the morning he'll find them, he makes it a promise.

But Sundays are well-honed for promises unfounded, especially for him and the teetering way in which he begins to droop. The lilies look horrible now, one sharp gust of wind away from death, their stems low-necked and wilted as they flow over his vase like something sickly and old.

He can but clean and scrub and no matter how vigorously he does it, does the dirt and smudge cling onto his skin as if seeping directly from his bones, an awful, repulsive smell beginning to flood his apartment. Perhaps it's that godforsaken scent that attracts his little insects, especially now without the pearly facade of sweet smelling lilies to veil it with fragrant lies and spices.

He scratches at his skin incessantly then, determined to stop the smell, mask it even if with the fresh trails of blood. He scratches too hard that night, his creams and lotion only barely able to cover the red illness of his flesh. Jinyoung comments on it, asking him if he's okay beneath the clear light of his dressing room. Of course he's okay, no one will notice it amidst the darkness of the stage. What a silly question.

Changbin isn't there that night either. Good, Hyunjin thinks, despite the heavy thud he thinks his heart makes. He should've never been there in the first place. Besides, he's better off spending time with his daughter, indulging in matters of love and purity and things far, far away from the walls he spends his own time suffocating in. Good.

His head hurts. A lot. A dull, droning migraine creaking from within his brain. He feels sick, bile surging up his throat multiple times during his shift, his vision spinning from the lack of sleep. Fuck he's tired. Tired and grimy and succumbed in feelings he wants to retch away into nothingness.

The cocaine does nothing to help, only renders him shaky and with a bloody, awful nose by the time he's finished, legs stumbling as he tries to run back home. He doesn't make it very far, falling flat on his face multiple times.

He thinks he might have passed out, but it doesn't matter. He can't remember. He doesn't shower then, when he's home, falling asleep upon the floor of his kitchen as soon as the door closes. Finally. Finally.

No. Not finally. He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, hands flying to his throat as he claws his aching sounds shut, chest panting and trembling as he tries to steady himself.

Another nightmare then. Something about being a good boy, yes he's always tried so hard to be a good boy and he had been good, had been good and beautiful and perfect, perfect, perfect, so pretty, so sweet, so sexy - what does 'sexy' mean? - so hot like that in those panties, - I can keep a secret, of course I can - so seductive like that with a mouth that knows exactly what its doing - he hates the taste but it's okay, he says nothing, he only wants to be good - so flawless and gorgeous, a sweet little dove - there are a few doves in their backyard but he doesn't think they look like him at all - always making him feel good - he thinks about killing it, sometimes - always so perfect for him, - but then he thinks he might be a monster and he feels sad and he hates being sad - perfect, perfect, perfect.

Yes, he'd been perfect, once, perfect and now he's nothing, a heap of mangled bones upon his kitchen floor as tears flood his vision, his body rocking back and forth in the hysterical lack of even breathing, how he needs to get that nightmare out of his head now, now, now. Now! NOW!

He exhales in and out, in and out, three times, then three more and then one, two, three again. It's early morning now. His day off. The sun bleeds itself orange upon the husky hues of the dawning sky. He thinks he's seen that same shade of orange somewhere before. He can't remember. His lower lip trembles as he stifles another sob. He wishes he remembered.

He never knows what to do on his days off, once the trail of evening sludges into view. Wait. Yes, he knows. Today he'll find those little bugs. Just like he promised he would once upon a time. Yesterday? The day before? A week ago, perhaps? No.

He'd been out in the desert then, outlined beneath the light of a thousand scattered stars. He frowns. That doesn't...sound like him. Maybe it had been a dream. Or one of those silly fairytale stories tucked neatly away in his bookshelf. Isn't he reading something? What was that book called again?

Oh. Yes. He remembers. His heart quickens. He'd locked it away in some drawer, but he can't remember which one. Oh no. What if he accidentally opens the wrong drawer and finds it?! He doesn't want to look at that cover, those idle legs of a child swaying gently upon the bricked wall of a school that teaches all the wrong things.

He wonders if the child in that book had learned anything at all. Had he? Simple math. Simple English. A lot of nursery rhymes he thinks, during the first year. He remembers some of them, their hum gentle and lulling him to calmness.

How did it go again? He stands up then, fingers skimming along the wilted petals of the lilies. Ring around the rosy. He really should throw them away he supposes, now that they've died. Pocket full of posies. A few single strands of tears escape their way down his cheek, his chest swelling in an odd sense of sorrow. Ashes, ashes. He forces his sob to wither away as he tosses them into the trash can, numbness spreading like needles throughout his chest. We all fall down.

There's another song too, a different one. He remembers how it goes but he doesn't like thinking about it. Not anymore, at least. He shakes his head, no, no, no, he needs to get it out of himself, the melody like overflowing weeds to clog his lungs.

Something seizes him then, the overwhelming stench of festering decay from before wafting its way into his nose, his mouth gagging as he crouches back down onto the floor, bare legs bruised and wilted before his eyes. Where is that smell coming from?

From the bugs, he thinks. Yes, it has to be from those bugs, wherever they are, those wretched little creatures, wherever they've decided to hide and no, no, no, he doesn't think he can stand the thought of finding them and yet he has to, he has to, they need to get out of his apartment, out, out, out! There are so many things that need to get out, out of his walls and out of his room and out of his sheets, get out, get out, get out!

His breathing turns heavy, body spinning around as he begins to fling open his cupboards, hands filtering through each grocery item as he tries desperately to spot that godless trail of insects cluttering up his home but there's nothing, nothing beneath his fridge, under his bed, burrowed in his wardrobe, nothing beneath the carpets even.

Where are they hiding...stupid little creatures, so rotten and foul, Hyunjin knows how to play hide and seek better than anyone...they don't stand a chance...least of all beneath the sheets and yet they aren't there either, his hands ripping them away as he starts to disentangle them wildly, chest growing in fury from the inability to find them, the putrid scent growing stronger and stronger by the second.

He can't begin to clean his apartment knowing that they're there, of course he can't, their slimy feet will dirty it right back up and why hadn't he gotten rid of them before, what had he spent his last days doing besides running away from sleep and longing and where are they, those horrid monsters, where are they, where, where, where, he'll find them, he will, they can't hide, nobody can hide from him, no, no, no, nobody nobody and they better pray he doesn't because he'll wring their little necks with his own two hands after all that they've done, invading his home like that, his bedroom, his teddy bear, his body-

Hyunjin freezes, stomach plummeting immediately. Something stirs within the tissues of his flesh, something speedy and foul.

He retches, the sound sickening against his ears as he falls back onto the floor, hand flying to clutch at his chest as he tries not to vomit, head ringing with a loud, grating clang pounding back and forth throughout his skull as he stares wide eyed down upon his legs.

They're there. Inside. Yes, they're there, he knows that they are, the realization paralyzing him from where he sits, his limbs birthing the quiet rumbles of trembles that will do anything but decrease, lips quivering and hands shaking as he struggles to breathe, each exhale of something carefree and light slipping away from him the moment he tries to ignite them, chest tight tight tight, so tight in fact that he can do nothing but sit there bathed in a treacherous glory as his lungs collapse within him.

He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe, nails clawing against his throat as he tries to open his mouth but he can't, he can't, not while they're inside, not while they're dirtying his very flesh and blood as he sits there, nesting and feasting and making their sweet, sweet home in the crooks of his sinful decay and he needs to get them out, he needs to get them out, out, out, out, now, now, before they kill him, they're going to kill him he thinks, replace the veins that keep him alive, water him with their foaming pincers and muddied feet as they scuttle all around and he can feel them, he can feel them crawling their way inside his legs, pressing the dulled ridges of their beady little backs against his flesh, taunting him, mocking him and of course they're there, that's where they'd been hiding, he'd been so stupid not to see it but he sees it now yes he sees it now of course he does he thinks he's always known that they were there.

Yes, deep down, deep down inside but he'd been too good at keeping secrets, at burying his birth in the hollows of his brain but he can feel them now, ugly, tainted, disgusting little monsters, horrid, horrid remnants of himself and he still can't breathe, chest constricting and tightening with each stretching second that slashes against his throat and fuck, fuck, fuck what is he gonna do, he needs to get them out, out, out, his body heaving in sobs as he chokes on something that aches, vision blurry and tinted in hot, red sizzling anger and panic and fuck-

He screams, the sound coming out in broken chimes of something strangled as he starts to scratch, fingernails itching and clawing desperately upon the reddening flesh of his legs, up and down, up and down, deeper, deeper, deeper but they won't come out, they aren't coming out.

Hyunjin sobs, headache flaring within him. Why won't they come out, why, why, why, please can they just leave, please, please, why doesn't God answer his prayers, why doesn't anyone answer his prayers, just this once, please, he's scared, he's scared, he's scared.

Hyunjin hates being scared, hates it more than anything, cowering beneath sheets and in the corner of his room as something shatters against the wall, sharp nails digging into his scalp and tugging so harshly he can only wail in pain but his screams are always futile.

No one listens, no one listens, no one listens to his cries but it hurts, he thinks, it hurts so much, he needs to get them out, Bunny would know what to do, Bunny always knew what to do, he'd tell him, yes he'd help him get those horrible bugs out of his legs but Bunny isn't here, he doesn't remember where Bunny is, no, no, no-

Had the bugs gotten to Bunny too? No they couldn't have, Bunny wasn't dirty like that, Bunny was kind and a good friend and never did anything bad to anyone so why would the bugs eat away at Bunny and maybe it was for the best then, maybe he did deserve it, their sharpened mouths and disgusting, sullied feet but he can't, he can't, he needs to get them out, he's selfish, yes he's selfish and horrible and a rotten, rotten boy that doesn't listen, no he never listens even though he tries, he tries so hard to get things right but they never are they never are but he'll get them right this time, he'll get them, out, out, out in one quick, swift stab, like murder he thinks, like slaughtering that bird he'd thought about so many times, the blade sharp and serrated as it sears through his flesh, blood pouring out from beneath his skin as he digs it deeper and deeper, the pain nothing but a distant echo to comfort him with, sharp, sharp death of his flesh but the bugs still won't come out.

He doesn't see them anywhere and so he stabs again, and again and again, the knife wielding erratically in his shaky grip as he presses it down, slashing against his leg, sobs wracking through his chest but he still doesn't see them, why can't he see them and now his hands and legs are covered in blood and no, no, no, what did he do, what did he do, his apartment will get so horribly dirty and why are there pools of red leaking down onto his feet, what had he done, what had he done-

Hyunjin drops the knife immediately, grip shaky still as he stares down in horror, the sound of the blade hitting the floor like a tolling alarm to rip him away from his daze, eyes wide and frozen as they bore staggeringly into the cut upon his right leg, the rift deep and large as it winds its way down the outside of his thigh and past his knee, blood spilling in continuous streams as the pain begins to kick in.

His lungs fall to contemptible pieces once more, breathing difficult and strenuous as the slow seeds of panic start to settle, rippling their way across his body as another sob escapes him, agony flaring with each small movement of his leg.

His eyes scatter around him, hands imprinted in blood as it gleams upon his floorboards and oh God, what did he do, what did he do, the trickle continuing still as it pours out of him like the waste and sweat of potential overripened.

With quivering, trembling hands does he reach nervously for his phone, terror and fear pounding in his chest at the sight of his leg in such ruin, the pain turning into a searing throb as he flinches for a second, tears streaming down his eyes, fingers dialing before he has a chance to regret it.

The line rings for a moment, the sound chiming through his head as small petals of dread begin to flourish, chest heaving up and down in the slow swell of hysteria.

The sound stops at last, a sharp breath exhaling from the other line as he hears something low and laced with concern rumble through his ear, but the words slip away from before he can catch them, sweat dripping down his forehead as his mind starts to pinch itself.

"Changbin," he croaks, the name coming out like a raspy, broken up sob. Fuck. He feels dizzy. "Um. Are you busy?"

For a second there's nothing but silence, but Hyunjin thinks he can recognize such stillness born from a sudden plunge of alarm. He tries to steady his breathing then, the sound of heavy panting subduing slightly as he wills the strings of panic to settle within his throat.

Then, like the soothing anchor of a lifeline, Changbin answers him, voice calm and ridged with a sense of purpose around the edges, the sound battering a cry of relief right out of him. "No. What's wrong?"

He sounds worried, he thinks, concerned. Like he cares. Hyunjin tries desperately to smudge away the tears leaking down his eyes with the bloodlessness of his forearms, the pain in his leg flaring once again. "I uh..." his voice turns quiet as he speaks, no louder than a shaky whisper bound in exploding nerves, scared, pitiful child in fear of doing something wrong. "I did something stupid."

He hears a sharp breath on the other line, his eyes glancing back down to his leg. The stream of blood has slowed down by now. "Hyunjin, are you okay?"

Another sob escapes him before he can wring it to slaughter, lips salty and wet from the outpour of tears to caress it. All he'd wanted was to get those bugs away. "No."

"What happened?" Hyunjin thinks he can vaguely recognize the distress seeping out on the other end of the line, but he tries to ignore it, latches on instead to the searing concern like means of a measly, meagre survival. "Are you hurt?"

Embarrassment floods through him, the throb in his leg turning dull and pulsating as he stares down its ghastliness, streaks of red like the scene from a murder, melodramatic and yet too real all at the same time.

"Yeah...there's..." his cries dwindle into a few sniffles, chest billowing with shame as his voice turns small and hushed. He wonders if anyone can even hear him at all. "Can you come over?"

"Of course, of course." The answer comes tumbling out like clockwork, something stricken with both panic and relief surging through him, snivels pouring out of him still like a current too strong. "I'll be right there."

There's a muffled, rustling sound on the other end, Hyunjin's body rocking gently back and forth as he tries to keep his fragile sense of calmness intact, breathing shaky and like static as it slumps out. "Uh, hold on," Changbin reassures him, voice soothing as he leans into it. "I just need to find someone to watch Jia."

"Oh." Humiliation courses through him, heart sinking along with a pitiful thud of dread right down to his stomach. "Right." What the fuck had he been thinking, what the fuck was he doing calling him like that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Um, it's fine, sorry, I didn't mean to bother you-"

"You're not bothering me, I'll be there soon," Changbin cuts him off, gentle and alleviating as always.

Hyunjin stifles another sob with the blood-ridden palm of his hand, panic overriding the blistering kernels of shame as the pain decides to double, leg flaring as the wound begins to burn. He doesn't know what to do. "What happened?"

Biting his lip, Hyunjin manages to hold back his cries for a few, puny seconds, the sound of weeping leaking out in poorly repressed streams of salt. "I was being stupid." His stomach clenches, embarrassment thrashing within him. Those stupid fucking bugs, they ruined everything!

"Um...can you-" he swallows, eyes skittering around nervously, the bleached walls of his apartment oddly terrifying for a brief moment. He shakes his head, teeth ripping into his bottom lip. He doesn't have time for such childish fears. "Do you have bandages or something? I-there's a lot of blood."

"Yeah, I'll bring my first-aid kit." For a second he thinks he might've caught Changbin off guard, his voice airy and rattled in unease as if not having expected something of the like. "Hyunjin, what happened?"

Oh God, oh God, how can he explain something like this, how can he sprout such ridiculous, manic streams of paranoia as if everything was normal, as if insects hadn't been feasting upon the insides of his flesh mere moments ago! He breathes out nervously, tone shaky and quiet as he tries not to cry. "It's just my leg...I cut it."

"Okay," Changbin exhales, something shifting within the way he speaks, gentle, steady, ready to console a weeping, wounded child. "Okay, I'll be right there, yeah?"

So humiliating, he thinks, humiliating and mortifying and yet he latches onto the comfort as if it were the only thing in front of him, a strong, carefully wielded rope to help pull him out of plummet. "Just hang on. I'm just waiting for Chan to get here."

"I'm sorry," he sobs, guilt crashing through him, the lie like the ashen taste of heartbreak upon his tongue. "You don't have to-I...it's not that bad."

"Hyunjin, I can tell you're hurt," Changbin says, voice barely above a whisper, each word carved meticulously and thoroughly for him to cling onto. "Of course I'll be there. Don't worry about it, okay?"

He nods despite no one being able to see him, a few more sounds of movement filtering in through the other line as he thinks he hears someone else's voice emerge, a door shutting and deep breaths replaying over and over again like mantras.

Changbin tells him that he'll be going now, to just keep hanging on and Hyunjin can only sniffle pathetically in response as the their dialogue simmers down, the familiar sound of an engine revving making his heart spike unexpectedly. Thankfully the ride is short, he thinks, mind buzzing in a numbing static as tears continue to stream down his cheeks, though he isn't quite sure why anymore.

The pain still throbs, the sight of dried blood like a jarring chip in his otherwise pristinely kept apartment and yet his chest ripples with small cries, unfastening perhaps from too many years spent tied up and rigid.

He must be sitting in the small fold of one of Changbin's pockets, he thinks, as he speeds throughout the city, the sky turning a light, twinkling purple from outside his windows.

He isn't sure how long it takes, time like a discordant string of insignificance to pay attention to before the sudden sound of Changbin telling him that he's there draws him out of his stupor, muscles flinching slightly from surprise.

Slowly he manages to crawl his way over to his front door, dragging his leg with a pained expression filtering across his face from each movement he forces it to make, dried patches of blood creating a light red trail across his floor.

Back slumped against the wall he manages to stretch upward and buzz him in, hands extending tiresomely to unlock the door before falling back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds. God, he's exhausted.

The rustling sound of the door opening leaves him momentarily paralyzed, chest heaving back to panic once again at the emerging figure of Changbin's familiar patterns, his eyes widening in shock at the state of his leg before quickly contorting back into one of a gentle, soothing mold, body crouching down to level with him immediately.

Another sob rips its way out of his throat then, the urge to scream and wail and let his agony and fear consume him overwhelming with each soft, worried look Changbin gives him.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay, yeah?" Changbin whispers, stroking his shoulder in comfort as he gently sets down the first-aid kit he'd been carrying, eyes sinking into his own sympathetically.

Hyunjin swallows, trying desperately to steady his breathing as he stares into Changbin, regret and shame puncturing him from the inside.

He didn't mean to do anything wrong, he didn't mean to be bad, to not get things right and oh God, he doesn't want to get yelled at, no, no, no, he hates being yelled at, his heartrate quickening in fear as his lower lip trembles. "I didn't mean to cut that deep-I..."

Tears squeeze their way out of his eyes once more, breathing ragged and panicked as Changbin once again attempts to calm him down, hand continuing to stroke his arm as he gives him a kind, sensitive smile. "It's okay, don't worry. Just tell me what happened."

He sobs at that, body going rigid in the same sense of frenzy as before, fingers itching to start scraping against his leg again. "I was just trying to get them out," he cries, eyes pooling with terror. What had happened to the bugs?! Were they still in there?!

"Get what out?" Changbin breathes quietly, opening up the first-aid kit as he starts filtering out various items Hyunjin doesn't recognize. The pain simmers back to life at the recollection.

"The bugs," he sobs, chest heaving erratically up and down, "I swear they were in there-I thought..." they had to have been, they had to, he could feel them! "I was sure they were there, I just-I just needed to get them out, they had to get out!"

"Okay." Changbin nods in understanding, placing both hands on his shoulders as his lips tug up slightly in reassurance, voice threaded with certainty. "Hyunjin, there's no bugs anymore. I promise."

He wants to believe him, yearns for nothing more than to leave the repulsive trails of insects from his memory, but they had been there, he was sure of it, he was sure of it!

"I could feel them Changbin, they were there," he stresses, cry turning into a shaky, panicked whine. "Inside of me."

Changbin bites his lip, nodding comfortingly in understanding, hand still stroking his arm in a pacifying consolation. "I believe you, yeah. But look, there's nothing there anymore." He gestures down toward his leg, the trails of crimson like crumpled ribbons against the patchiness of his skin. "No bugs."

Hyunjin draws in a sharp breath, a rise of pain puncturing him all of the sudden. His eyes brim once more with the pitiful cluster of tears, their desperation shimmering in the reflection of Changbin's gaze.

"I had to get them out, they were making everything...dirty!" Maybe Changbin's right, maybe they were gone. They way he spoke like he knew with certainty....yes, Hyunjin believes him. At least for now. "I had to, I had to, so I...I cut and...I cut too deep."

"Everything's gonna be fine," Changbin reassures him, clearheaded and genuine. Hyunjin's breathing steadies slightly, chest slowing to a rattled yet controllable rhythm. "You cut deep yes, but it's okay. I'm gonna clean it now and then we'll put some bandages on and you're gonna be okay in no time, yeah?"

Hyunjin nods, downturned eyes brimming with echoes of tears as Changbin gently places his hold around him, hooking one arm beneath the alcoves of his knees and the other on the small of his back before hoisting him up as if weightless, carrying him gingerly all the way to his bathroom.

Hyunjin tries desperately to stifle his cries once Changbin carefully sets him down upon the toilet seat, his large, oversized t-shirt spattered with a few specks of dried blood from the imprints of his hands, the hem reaching no further than the middle of his thighs, cut wielding from where the fabric ends and skin begins.

Despite the fact Changbin has seen him in far more revealing states than this, the realization stretches no more than to that of a small pillar in the back of his mind, humiliation coursing through him at the vulnerability of his condition, legs adorned in nothing but blemishes and a small strip of underwear hidden from his t-shirt.

Changbin quickly starts shuffling through his first-aid kit, placing out different items upon the tiles of the bathroom before quickly standing up and washing his hands. He glances down at where Hyunjin sits idly by the sink, eyes scratchy and exhausted from the amount of tears they'd spilled, streaming blood having slowed down significantly by now.

Still Changbin takes hold of his leg gently before lifting it up so his heel rests against one of the shelves of his makeup and cream ornated bathroom racks, the elevation halting the flow of blood entirely after a few seconds.

Hyunjin only stares at the bright, antiseptic light of the ceiling as he sits there, chest thrumming still with bundles of nerves. It isn't until he feels Changbin lower back down to his level again that he rips his head away from the light, vision spattered with small, white dots as he tries to adjust it.

"This is gonna sting a little," Changbin says, forehead slightly creased as he starts to gently clean the wound with a water-soaked cloth, the sudden intrusion of the warm liquid like sharp needles against his skin, his mouth drawing a sharp, pain induced breath as his hand squeezes automatically against Changbin's shoulder.

Changbin manages to clean his leg rather effectively, the cloth turning a deep, scarlet color once he's cleared away the remnants of blood trailing from the cut, hands coming back up to the sink to wash themselves once more.

Hyunjin doesn't ask what Changbin's doing, but Changbin explains it all to him anyway, gently and patiently as Hyunjin simply nods, his fingers applying an antibiotic cream upon the wound in order to reduce the risk of infection.

Hyunjin only sniffles in response, hand still gripping Changbin's shoulder in support as he starts wrapping folds of bandages around his thigh and down to where the cut ends, touch light and yet firm all at the same time.

He repeats the movements once he's done, covering the bandages with a sterile gauze until his leg looks somewhat mummified, he thinks. To prevent any infections, Changbin explains, Hyunjin nodding robotically as he accepts the help without question, grateful, ashamed of even having needed it in the first place.

At last Changbin starts packing up the first-aid kit, smiling at him gently from where he's still crouched upon the floor. "Okay we're gonna have to check it every other day for infections, but it should be okay for now. I don't think you need to go to the doctor but it's always a good idea to be on the safe side."

"Okay," Hyunjin whispers, his throat scratchy as he speaks. Changbin's eyebrows furrow, lips downturned in concern.

"Does it hurt?"

Hyunjin nods, the dull pain throbbing across his leg in muted, aching ripples.

"Do you have any pain killers?" Changbin asks, Hyunjin nodding once more before pointing to the bathroom cupboards above his sink, tongue dry and ashen as nervousness becomes him yet again. "In there." At least his weeping has ceased. For now.

Changbin cracks him a light, mellow smile before standing back up again, the reassuring curves of his face washing over him in tidal waves. "I'll get you some water, be right back."

Hyunjin watches him leave with a strange feeling in his chest, something light and strangled coursing through his ribcage like the fluttery wings of a Swallowtail trying to break their way free, come tumbling up out of his throat in one last, rebellious desire of foolish freedom.

Changbin returns mere moments later with a glass of water and a pill in his hand, handing them over to Hyunjin as he accepts them gratefully. Swallowing, he hopes he somehow manages to crush that irresponsible butterfly straight back down to his gut again, chipping off its quivering wings with once swift, sharp slice of conviction.

He doesn't, he thinks, the same dancing feeling still ruffling throughout him as he glances back up at Changbin's face, throat dry still despite the water he'd just drank, hoping, praying that the lack of sound and feeling can somehow convey his sincerity. He doesn't think words will ever be enough. "I...thank you."

Changbin only smiles as if there had been nothing else he'd ever considered doing. "Of course. Are you feeling better?"

Hyunjin nods, yes, he is. Though not for the reason he thinks Changbin is referring to, but he keeps his secret safely guarded within the confines of his brain. At least for now.

He doesn't know how long the weakened threads of his mind will remain intact with the way things are going, Changbin's silhouette easing its way into the shadows of his walls more and more with each passing night.

"Good," Changbin breathes out, exhaling as if at last uttering the relief he'd tried not to let seep through the cracks of reassurance. "Good. That was a little scary, I'm not gonna lie. But everything's fine now, yeah? You're gonna have to take some time off from work. You shouldn't apply pressure to your leg."

Hyunjin's momentary pacification dwindles into mere specks of dust the moment he registers the words filtering between them, the cogs within him reeling back to life in panicked-oiled swells. "What?"

"You can't dance on that," Changbin explains, sensing his distress immediately as he crouches back down, placing a hand comfortingly on his thigh as Hyunjin's chest starts to heave rapidly once more. "But you should check with a doctor to find out how long you should take time off."

No, no, no, he has to work, he has to, the Tiger Lily is always in bloom. "I can't...I can't take time off." The stage lights nurture him to completion with each simple appearance of the moon, their energy electric and polluted as they turn his petals shimmery and beautiful they way they were meant to be. The way he was meant to be.

"Hyunjin, you're injured," Changbin breathes out, eyes pooling with certainty as he tries his hardest to make him understand, but no, Hyunjin thinks, Changbin is the one who doesn't understand, seeds of hysteria brewing their way back instantly throughout his brain. "Your job is really physical, you're not gonna get better if you don't let it heal first."

"No, no, you don't get it." Tears spring their way back to life immediately, salty streams pouring down his cheeks as he tries to steady his breathing, the fear of not working surging through him in agony. He has to work, what the fuck else is he supposed to do if not slaughter himself to pieces of temptation for his watchers to devour?! "I can't, I can't just sit here alone in my apartment for days, I'll go crazy! I have to work, I have to!"

Changbin says nothing for a few seconds, the silence fluttering between them like delicate wrinkles of a river before he reaches his hand out gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Hyunjin exhales shakily, the proximity between them easing his nerves into mellow, balmy ripples as he manages to somewhat calm down.

Changbin looks at him intently through the quietude, eyes churning with a thousand things longing to be said, the uncertainty of whether or not to breathe them into life rendering him nervous. Apprehensive.

Hyunjin thinks he'd looked slightly similar back beneath the roads of constellations, doubt streaking through his face as if unable to tether them tightly within himself. He watches with pooling, saddened eyes as Changbin swallows, guilt flooding through at him his obvious insecurity. He knows it's because of him.

"If you want to..." he starts, eyebrows creasing in a rigid sort of cautiousness, "you can stay with me? For as long or short as you like. Only if you want to of course," he stresses, afraid no doubt of the way Hyunjin's face contorts into one of disbelief. "I won't be working either, without you there so...you won't be alone. During the evenings I mean. If...you know, that sounds better than staying here."

He gives him a weak, nervous smile, Hyunjin's lips falling into a small pout, eyes wide and pitiful as he tries to make sense of the fervent emotions jabbing through him. "And besides, you really should avoid walking on that leg. I could help you with stuff. And with checking for infections, reapplying the gauze..."

Changbin's trail of words dwindle into a quiet, longing plea of something hopeful, Hyunjin's gut churning with that same wretched butterfly from before trying to claw its way out, wings flapping and fluttering so rapidly he thinks it's starting to render him dizzy. "That's...no, I can't ask you to do that."

"It's really not a problem." The reassurance tumbles out of him like clockwork, expression simmering with a promising determination. "I'd be happy to do it."

"I wouldn't be imposing?" Hyunjin whispers, lower lip wobbling uncontrollably as he feels the familiar bundles of sobs scratching their way back up his throat, mind searing itself in the force it takes to crush them back down again.

"No," Changbin breathes out, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "Not at all."

Hyunjin says nothing for a second, jaw clenching as he tries desperately to think of any reason to say no, to barricade himself from Changbin and all the goodness he bears before he has a chance to destroy it.

And yet he'd called him here, had warped and lured him into his own apartment despite the promise he'd made to himself about keeping his distance, had bled himself dry both literally and figuratively of smudged tissues of dirt and yet still Changbin insists that he stay over, yearns for it even.

The butterfly starts thrashing wildly once more, rupturing the naturalness of his bones in all the years he'd carried them.

"What about your daughter?" He asks, after a while, eyes brimming with tears.

Changbin's smile widens at that, shaking his head lightheartedly as if that were an easy, almost insignificant question. "Jia wouldn't mind. She loves company. And she liked you. She'll be at kindergarten during the day and she goes to bed at around eight, nine, so...I understand it can be stressful when you're not used to kids but um." The small kernels of nerves brew their way back to life then, voice lowering into a small, scratchy whisper. "Just a thought. I don't really think you should be alone right now."

Hyunjin only stares, the pain in his leg nothing compared to the agony that throbs its way through his chest, his stomach, his lungs, cracking their way down his heart in one swift, sharp-edged cut as winged-creatures spill from its seams, eyes bursting like a broken pipe in the overflow of tears as the room reverberates with the sound of his choked, desperate sobs.

Changbin's grip on his thigh tightens instinctively, the hold nothing but sturdy and comforting, Hyunjin's cries only increasing in the realization.

"I'm sorry," he sobs, eyes pinching themselves shut as he tries to maintain his erratic breathing, strangled exhales of all the weeks he'd spent in an aching, agonizing denial tumbling through him like large chunks of weeds and sharpened stones to constrict him with.

He thinks he vaguely feels Changbin's fingers gently caress his face, smoothening away the nest of tears gathering beneath his eyes as he eventually manages to open them again, vision blurry and distorted as he tries pitifully to blink it back to clearness.

"Why are you sorry?" Changbin whispers, brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen across his face, Hyunjin's cries turning to hushed, sorrowful sniffles after a few seconds, silent tears still cascading down his cheeks as if molded entirely by the streaming droplets of a flood.

"I've been nothing but..." he swallows, trying desperately to stifle the sob burrowing its way back up his throat, chest bristling as he takes a deep, shaky breath, "b-but an asshole to you and you're still so nice."

He looks away for a second, pain rifting through him even though he knows the answer to that haunting question tapping against his window night after night. He knows the answer, knows but remains fruitless in his inability to understand. He turns back to stare at him, voice seeping out in a quiet, terrified whisper. "Why?"

This time he thinks he sees none of the uncertainty from before swim its way across Changbin's face, only a deep, cavernous yearning for the truth to spill across his lips, words honed of a beauty and conviction far more genuine, far more pure than those he'd spent years buckled beneath in the old walls of his church.

"Because I like you Hyunjin. I like you. As in...you're on my mind constantly. As in the sound of your laughter rings through my head like some little songbird I can't stop trailing after. As in...the thought of you with anyone else makes me feel like I'm going to be sick. I want to be with you, I...not just at work, or during the night or in bed, I want to see you during the day, wake up with you in the morning, go places, do stuff, I want to...make something with you. Something meaningful."

The salty taste of regret seeps its way down from his tears and all the way into his mouth, the flavor choking him and reawakening him back to life, heart beating rapidly against his chest, so vicious in fact that he thinks it's starting to become painful, the Swallowtail born for once not from the metamorphosis of white lines back stage but of something else entirely, something tightly bound and cursed upon his tongue as he stares it straight down the barrel, weakened bones and pocket-sized body terrified, terrified, terrified.

"I'm sorry for ignoring you," he whispers at last, eyes pearly and shiny in an earthly, raw sense of terror he hopes Changbin won't be able to recognize for what it is.

Changbin only strokes the side of his face a couple more times, thumb caressing the cluster of tears beneath his eyes as he gives him a sad, yearning smile. "I thought you liked the date."

Hyunjin swallows, the bright, bleak lights surrounding them doing nothing to help the pulsating fear within his veins. "I did, I...I freaked out. I've...I've never done this before."

Changbin nods, yes, he understands Hyunjin thinks he wants to convey, but no, no, how could he possibly understand, how could he ever understand the desire for youth and all its innocent, lighthearted kisses to someone born sullied and on the brink of death? Changbin's grip around his thigh tightens protectively for a second, forehead creased in shimmery, desperate yearning.

"I know it's a lot, I mean I have a child." Hyunjin bites his lip, staring down at Changbin's pleading face as he tries once again not to cry. "I know it's daunting, a lot to take on." For me? No, Hyunjin thinks. For you.

"And I know you don't do relationships, I get it, I do, you're scared of getting hurt." It's not getting hurt that scares me. "But...I care about you. I like you. You. Hyunjin, Not Tiger Lily. You. And if you would just...let me in." No, no, no, don't tempt him with such empty, pain ridden promises.

"Even just to try...you need someone like that. Someone who listens to you, is there for you, someone you can trust. Someone you can relax around, someone who makes you laugh." Hyunjin draws in a sharp breath, chest crumbling beneath the weight of Changbin's words.

Still do they continue to tumble between them like gentle hulls of the stream. "Someone that makes you realize you can allow yourself happiness. If you would let me be that person, I would be...I would do anything for it. Please, just. Think about it. Let me show you how much I care about you, how much I could care about you if you just...let me in."

For a while he can do nothing but stare tear-brushed and broken at the pleading face of the man before him, heart caving in as if dominos collapsing on top of each other one by one, the recollection of stolen kisses beneath a constellation-streaked sky unraveling something tightly knit within.

He tries thinking of the stories he'd heard that night, wonders how many of them remain untold and kept hushed like secret whispers between the stars, for them and them only. How much does he truly not know about the heavens that bid him goodnight?

"You don't have to say anything right now," Changbin exhales, lips curving into that gentle, all too disentangling smile. "I'm just glad you called me."

"Thank you for coming," Hyunjin whispers, words swelling around the edges with a few lonesome droplets of tears.

Changbin wipes them delicately away, smile quirking upward as his thumb skims across his jaw. "So what do you think? Do you wanna stay over for a couple of days?"

Hyunjin bites his lip, doubt swirling within him like that godawful illness he'd been trying to scratch away for years, the image of constellations still burning bright and dizzyingly behind his eyelids, crushing any semblance of reason to puny specks of stardust. He breaks into a weak, watery grin. "I...yeah. I can try that."

Changbin's beam is as instant as it is radiant, eyes crinkling around the corners in joy. Hyunjin's heart inflates. "Great. And I'm sure your leg will heal up in no time."

He smiles back then, chest fluttery and light as he manages to stand up carefully, eager to wash the dried blood off of his hands, fingers moving in thorough, precise circles as he leans against Changbin in support.

Changbin watches him with a fond look embedded in his eyes, arm looping around his waist to steady him as Hyunjin tries not to let the rapid, speedy flight of his heart come bursting straight out of him.

Wiping away the tear-stained redness of his eyes, he turns back around to face him, back leaning against the kitchen sink as he bites his lip apprehensively, the awaiting doom of his three leafed clover having lingered for far too long in the back of his mind. "I have to...I have to clean now."

Changbin's face scrunches up in confusion, head tilting to the side as if in disbelief. "What?"

There's blood all over the floor," he explains simply, stomach already back in knots at just the thought of the mess he'd engraved upon his kitchen floorboards, skin prickling with nerves.

Changbin exhales softly then, expression twisting into one of gentle reassurance. "Don't worry about that, I can clean it."

"No, no." Hyunjin shakes his head adamantly, the insistence of that wretched little clover already rupturing his insides. He's wasted far too much time just sitting idly in the bathroom with tears and snot running down his face. His chest squeezes uncomfortably. "I have to do it."

"Hyunjin, you shouldn't-"

"I have to!" He yells, eyes pooling with the familiar waves of something wet and salty once more, panic seizing through him as he tries not to let his breathing turn erratic. Changbin doesn't understand, he doesn't fucking understand! He has to do it, only he knows how to ease the searing flames burning his skull to cinders! "I have a system! I need to do it."

Changbin looks conflicted at that, hands back up to stroke his shoulders in an attempt to pacify him, eyes skimming with a careful sort of apprehension. Hyunjin's lower lip wobbles, teeth caught between it as he tries to stifle another sob. "What if you...told me how to clean it? I can follow your system."

He shakes his head again, vision turning dizzy as his voice quivers quietly. "No, it won't be right. Just let me..."

Changbin nods, accepting his tear-filled desperation with a soothing smile, determined then to at least help him not put any strain on his leg.

Hyunjin's stomach floods with relief, breathing steadying itself back to normal as he leans against Changbin's side on the way back out to the kitchen, Changbin following instructions as he finds forward the bucket of cloth and cleaning material he always uses, sitting down on the floor next to him as Hyunjin starts to scrub.

He has half the mind to be submerged in shame and humiliation, knee deep in water and soap as he concentratedly fulfills his ritualistic counting, onetwothree, onetwothree, one, two, fucking three, right in front of Changbin, but Changbin says nothing, only helps him move every few inches or so once he's managed to clear the blood-spattered floorboards in front of him.

In the end he decides to feel the extent of his embarrassment later, chest too tight and determined from the sheer amount of disorder all around him, the need for gleam and spotlessness stringing his whole body rigid and exhausted until he finally manages to complete his routine.

Changbin helps him into his bedroom after that, the throb in his leg flaring back to life each time he accidentally flexes it, but he pays it no mind, tries instead to will away the blaring urge to jump into the shower and reopen every wound as he swiftly changes his clothes, t-shirt steeped in sweat and a few patches of dried blood, skin soothingly cool as he takes it off.

He hopes Changbin isn't watching him, face cringing in how disgusting the whole situation truly was as he puts on an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of tiny shorts, heart beating loudly against his chest as soon as he turns back around to find Changbin waiting in the doorway.

He lets out an airy, nervous laughter as he wobbles his way over, Changbin quick to move toward him as he circles a hand around his waist. "Fuck, I gotta smoke."

Changbin gives him a smile as he leads him out onto the balcony, Hyunjin's mind grateful for the sudden intrusion of fresh air and blinking, energetic city lights displayed before him, something else to occupy him with at last.

Changbin sends him thorough, yearning glances every few seconds, Hyunjin's lips curving into a grin despite how hard he tries not let any emotions filter through, the strings and chasms of his insides having turned into enough faucets for a lifetime by now and yet...something solemn overwhelms him, strange sensations of gratitude and warmth to yield his bones.

Changbin sits on the chair right next to his, their arms close enough to be touching if he'd just tilt into his side. Hyunjin considers it, for a second before ultimately nesting it back within his heart.

Instead he hopes the immeasurable hollows of his eyes are enough to erase their distance, chest heavy as he looks into him. "Really. Thank you for coming. And helping me and...everything. I...fuck. I was so stupid."

Changbin peers at him guarded by both curiosity and sensitivity, voice gentle as he speaks, barren of expectations. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Of course he doesn't, doesn't want any more grueling memories or horrific flashes to sear themselves into his mind, that disgusting, human feeling of monstrosity moving within him - something not quite alive nor dead, creatures trapped within the eternal limbo of his own nightmare spun shadows.

Hyunjin swallows, eyes cast nervously into the fluorescing city lights before him, hands twirling the hem of his sweatshirt restlessly in his fingers. "I was just...I don't know. Um." He lets out an airy, rattled laugh. "I'm kind of a germaphobe...as you've probably noticed, I just sort of...freaked out."

He pauses for a second, gaze downcast before moving back to look at Changbin, his own eyes trained intently upon his. The usual urge to strangle whatever curse-bound saliva that itches to water his tongue fizzles into something meagre and puny then. He supposes Changbin deserves some kind of explanation, no matter how lightly he manages to tread.

"When I was a kid I'd get these nightmares that...that there were bugs inside of me or something and...I'd just get paranoid that it was true. Obviously I know it's not, I just...sometimes it still feels like there are." Changbin says nothing, only looks at him as if waiting for him to continue.

Hyunjin only shakes his head, lips curving into a humorless grin as he stares up at the sky. "I haven't slept much lately. I think it was starting to get to me. Anyway, it's silly. I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess...I swear I'm not completely crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy." Hushed, quiet, the words lace themselves into the polluted air with pearls of sincerity, Changbin peering into him as if seeing straight through the sullied tatters of his soul.

Hyunjin swallows, empty laughter ringing between them once again. "Really? After that I wouldn't blame you if you ran far, far away."

"No, I'd never." Changbin shakes his head, honesty bleeding through him as if not having been molded in any other way. "I don't think any less of you just because you got scared. I'm just glad you didn't get seriously hurt."

"Yeah," he mutters, teeth gnawing upon his bottom lips in unease, his fingers rattling slightly as he at last lets the momentary rapture of sweet, choking nicotine lull his lungs to a soothing calm, lighter flickering mesmerizingly before he takes a drag.

Changbin watches as the smoke filters in the air for a few seconds, exhaling themselves in whispers from his mouth before he decides to break the silence, gentle and attentive as always.

"Do you still believe it? I mean, right now? That there are bugs inside of you?" Hyunjin's eyes flutter back to look at him, the steady hum of fear inside his chest resounding back to life. Changbin senses his distress immediately, quick to smoothen over any ridges. "I'm not gonna judge you if you say yes, I'm just curious."

He exhales quietly, the ashen taste of smoke like burnt shame upon his tongue. "No...I mean...no, I know it's impossible. I know there aren't any insects inside of me, it's just...the feeling you know? Like...like something's crawling all over me."

He stares forlornly at the lonesome cigarette dangling between his fingers, wondering how quick its end would take in bruising him should he crush it against his skin. "Sometimes it makes me paranoid and tonight I just...let it get the best of me."

"I get that," Changbin breathes out, nodding at him almost solemnly, his lungs constricting and unwinding pleasantly as he takes another drag, eyes gazing over to him like inquisitive slits of a prowling cat beneath the moon. "You do?"

"Yeah." Changbin gives him a faint smile then, the steady outpour of smoke between them contaminating the darkened city air just a little bit more. Hyunjin wonders how many other things he'll destroy with just the tilt of a fingertip, how easy it is to light a puny match. "It's just like any other time when your mind tries to convince you of something that isn't true. Sometimes we can't help but believe it. We all do it."

Hyunjin nods, sure, he understands that, eyes flickering back to the sky, something heavy lodged in the back of his throat as he tries not to let it stifle him all the way. "I guess..."

"I understand being paranoid." Changbin stares at him for a few seconds, that same sliver of uncertainty Hyunjin had seen simmer beneath the constellations a week ago brewing its way back to life, eyes painted just as they'd been in the sleeplessness of his dreams.

Hyunjin swallows, placing the cigarette back down to the side of the chair as he peers into him, the urge to reach forward and somehow alleviate the course of pain and hurt surging through him. In the end he does nothing. He wouldn't even know where to begin. Changbin gives him a weak, aching smile. Hyunjin's heart throbs.

"My dad, he...well, he wasn't the nicest. He was an angry man, you know? There was so much...hatred inside of him. He used to beat my mother. And me. A lot."

Something sharp and heavy plummets through his gut, eyes only blinking sadly in their ignorance of what to do, Changbin exhaling deeply, breath rattled along with his words. "So, just like him, I had a lot of anger in me too. But I was terrified of ending up like him. I still am. It scares the shit out of me so much sometimes that I just...can't help but let it drive me a little crazy, as you said. With Jia...I just want her to have a good father. Someone she can rely on. Someone she trusts."

His lips curve into a downcast, desperately withheld frown but Hyunjin catches it all the same. "But I've been doing kind of a shit job so far."

Hyunjin shakes his head at that, gut tugging with a dull pang he longs to ease away, hand twitching as he rests it across his knee, yearning to reach out and touch, touch, touch. "You barely even sleep trying to support her. And you've been sober for her...that's not an easy task. Don't discredit yourself. It seems like you're doing a good job. And you obviously love her a lot. That's the most important part."

Changbin gives him a grateful, honest smile, eyes soaking up each word as if mantras of a truth to desperately long for. "Thanks. It's just...so fucking hard. Staying sober. Not letting myself go under. It's so tempting sometimes."

"I get it." Hyunjin nods, lips numb against the flimsy paper of the cigarette. "I couldn't imagine even trying."

"She deserves the whole world," Changbin mutters, uncertainty draining itself from within him with each passing second, painful slivers of deep-seated insecurities to nurture him with. Hyunjin swallows, eyes caught upon the curve of his eyes. "And I feel like I can only give her one tiny sliver of it."

Hyunjin thinks for a moment, exhaling clouds of smoke shakily before he drops the cigarette back down again, words like aching, throbbing curses upon his tongue as he finally speaks. He doesn't know why they hurt so much.

"Kids don't need the whole world. They just need love. And safety. To them, that's everything." He pauses, head tilting to the side as he looks back up at the darkened, glittering heavens. "Not just them. Adults need that too. When you don't have it, that's when you start yearning for the 'whole world.' 'Cause you think it'll make up for it."

Changbin cracks him a deep, almost teasing grin. Hyunjin can tell that there's gratitude in there too. "You seem to know a lot about children for someone who's never around them.'"

He shrugs, huffing out a short, humorless laugh. "It's just common sense, isn't it?"

"Not to most people I think." Changbin shakes his head, then grins at him mischievously, the flickering lights from around them glinting like backs of pearly seashells through his eyes. "Ever thought about having one?"

Hyunjin snorts, mind reeling at just the thought, imaginary messes and snot and crying to fill the plunder of his days with. He shudders, grimacing in horror. "God no. Not with the life I'm living. I'd be a horrible parent."

Changbin gives him an unreadable smile then, curve bound with little secrets only he himself could know. "I think you'd be a really good one actually."

"Nah." Hyunjin laughs, face contorting into a frown as he tries not to let his thoughts wander too far. "I have too many...issues to work out first."

Changbin hums, seemingly nodding in understanding, grin still intact and sincere as it flutters all around them. "Well, Jia liked you a lot. If that means anything."

"Of course she did." Hyunjin smirks, placing the cigarette back upon his lips, the ashen taste grounding him comfortingly. "She has good taste."

"She does." Hyunjin can feel the sincerity with which Changbin glances at him before he sees it, eyes fathomless and smile small as it brushes its way across the ink-swathed sky, bejeweled in those same mythical shimmers of his gold-tinted fairytale books.

For a brief, limitless second he thinks he might be able to see the stars from where he sits, ghosts of constellations echoing in the far distance above them.

A sharp pang explodes from within his chest, body overcome by a sudden wave of sadness, the way Changbin all but unfolds and unfolds and unfolds himself into the palm of his hand with the trust that Hyunjin won't crush his petals to splintered smolders the reminder of everything he'd never been able to do. To hand himself over without the fear of inevitable slaughter, to chip away at himself bit by bit until only the matted, dull seams of his limbs were left to live.

He'd been able to talk freely once, about all the things that pushed their way up to the front of his brain, squeezing and plunging so hard he'd become well acquaintance with a migraine, lips spilling and foaming with those whisper kept ridges of sin, that which was not allowed in the light or during the day, nurtured blasphemy bathed only in the solitary of night.

Hyunjin's chest bristles then, pain strumming from within at the memory of his childish, insignificant daydreams. Except they'd been anything but insignificant, the only token to keep him company until its unrightful death in that one harrowing turning of the moon.

Hyunjin swallows, exhaling shakily as he looks back up to that collapsing dome above them, voice hushed yet clear through the silence of Changbin's attentiveness.

"I used to have this stuffed animal...Bunny." He glances back down at Changbin again, teeth gnawing nervously against the lower skin of his lips. "One of those old 70s plushies from a French antique shop."

A faint, automatic smile brushes its way across his face at the recollection, Bunny's tiny body just soft enough to rest his head upon if he wanted to do. "He was gray and looked kind of worn out. He had a stupid little ribbon around his tail too." Hyunjin laughs uncertainly, the sound dwindling in the back of his throat as he forces himself to swallow harshly, remnants of a sudden bile surging up in tenfold.

Changbin only peers into him with blinking, kind eyes, catching onto his every little utterance of breath as if ready to keep them safe and guarded within his own.

"I didn't really...have many friends, growing up." Hyunjin looks down at his feet, the ache in his leg flaring back to life. "But Bunny was my friend. I took him everywhere, told him everything. Kind of pathetic looking back on it...he was all I had."

A low, barely noticeable quiver of his lip and a sharp intake of breath, Hyunjin wills his voice not to tremble as he speaks. "Then one day, when I was twelve, my mom found him on my bed. I guess she'd forgotten I had him...she was furious, yelling at me about how I was too old for that kind of stuff, that I was embarrassing her by being so childish and...weak. Then she ripped him apart."

He almost flinches at the memory, Bunny's torn-up velvet patches falling like the gutted trails of his heart upon the floor. "Limb by limb. It was vicious, all the stuffing inside of him came out. I don't think I've ever cried that much...I was begging her to stop. It felt like watching a friend being...being killed right in front of me."

He shakes his head, bitterness unwinding within him almost violently. "Then she stuffed the remains into the garbage can and I...I tried to get him out later. To salvage something, to have anything, any small part of him I could find. I was desperate but...as you know I have...issues with cleanliness. I just...I just couldn't do it. It freaked me out too much. I could never save Bunny."

He stops for a moment, words bleeding like shame filled whispers through the hollow of the night. "I felt so guilty. Like I'd just let him die. I still do, sometimes."

"That's..." Changbin stares at him in unfolding bales of sorrow, eyes leaking with every remnant of that wretched man-bound curse of not knowing what to say, understanding almost cruelly that nothing will ever reach the deep rifts of the chest its justice, hoping that draining oneself of its heart instead will be enough to convey all of which words cannot. It is, Hyunjin thinks. At least in that moment. "I'm sure Bunny doesn't blame you. He would have understood, don't you think?"

"Yeah." Hyunjin smiles weakly, Bunny's face like a match to thaw the numbness of his bones. "He would've."

He stares at Changbin then, eyes drooping in hesitancy, the curve of his lip falling into a small pout aching in the lack of anything to comfort it. "I made a little gravestone for him in our backyard. It was just a stupid rock and some weeds but...I was really upset about it. I felt alone, so alone for the longest time."

He wonders if Changbin can truly, utterly feel within his words the suffering embedded since his birth. He doesn't know whether he wants him to or not.

"Without Bunny, everything just became...too much. Too difficult to handle. He knew everything, you know? Everything I did, everything that...happened to me." His heart quickens then, head shaking itself in disbelief as if hoping to throw off his simmering fear as well. "He was the only one that knew and the only one that cared. So after that I kind of just...I don't know. Let my anger consume me."

"That's understandable," Changbin says, breaths hushed as if in a whisper, eyes flitting all across his face as if his skin had become woven with a thousand, hypnotizing fireflies. "It's exhausting trying to swallow your anger when the world is always igniting it. Like a burden, weighing you down."

"Yeah..." Hyunjin smiles weakly, shoulders slumping in a trickling fatigue. "But it's even more exhausting not letting it go..."

Changbin hums at that, head tilting to the side as he continues to let his gaze sear right into him. "I don't know if it's possible to completely let your anger go...I think you just, channel it. Redirect into something else. Over time. If you're lucky."

"I've never been lucky."

Changbin nods in understanding, a delicate smile fluttering across his face. "I used to think that too, until Jia."

Hyunjin quirks an eyebrow playfully then, voice laced with skepticism. "Are you suggesting I have a baby?"

"No," Changbin laughs, the sound of his momentary happiness like a sharp, addicting punch to his gut, a curse to replay over and over again in the wickedness of his dreams. "But sometimes being lucky is just about having someone you can let in...someone that can take up a little piece of your heart. Being lucky is the easy part. It's allowing someone to be that person that's difficult."

Hyunjin's heart squeezes then, the words reaching deep, deep down to throttle him, eyes prickling with something he can only ever feel but not see, a constant ephemeral daydream too far from his grasp.

Changbin seems to notice his quiet discomfort, sending him a kind, soothing smile instead. "It's really nice what you did. For Bunny. The gravestone I mean."

"Thanks," he whispers, desperate, pleading almost for his promise to ring true. He really hopes Bunny would've appreciated it, that he would've understood.

"You deserved better than your mother," Changbin breathes out, eyes brimming with a sympathy far too foreign for him to latch onto. "I'm sorry."

Hyunjin takes another slow, suffocating drag of his cigarette, his marrows blackening with a thick, oozing tar he'd long to get rid of ever since his escape upon the canyon filled horizon. "I don't know...I don't really know what a mother is supposed to be like."

"What about your father?"

Something ugly sours in his gut immediately, the blister-seared face of illness rearing itself slowly back to life, pinpricks of spindly, needlelike touches scattering their way throughout his chest as nausea becomes him. He swallows it down with the tight, white-knuckled grip of his fist, crushing and squeezing until its tatters can only seep through in small, pitiful trails.

"Stepfather," he clarifies, mind aching in its determination to focus simply upon the sky. "My real father...he left before I was born. I think that's why my mother resents me so much. She blames me."

"That's crazy," Changbin huffs, shaking his head in incredulity. "You didn't choose to be born. Although I'm glad you were."

Hyunjin cracks a smile, shooting him a playful, teasing look. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe." Changbin grins, that stupid, joyous dimple spiking straight through his heart. "Would that be so bad?"

Biting back another smile, Hyunjin only gives him a weakened, pointed look, chest falling into a steady hum for a few minutes, wispy plumes of smoke filtering through his lungs and into the precious curls of a mellow, twilight night. He leans into the silence comfortingly, exhaling softly in the quietness until it withers into fragmented treasures of the past.

"What about your stepfather then? Was he nice?"

The question rings through his ear before it registers. Somewhere along the inescapability of the horizon Hyunjin thinks he can see the patterns of his answer, clawing, screaming limbs rushing in a frenzy to get the sickness out, out, out of his tainted body, wringing, wringing, wringing himself in the longing for a painless, quickened death and yet it colors itself with the faintest of hues only, dancing, fluttering in that distance he's never had the guts to run into.

Instead he lets a strange, almost anger-tinted numbness spread throughout him, the teeth of his mind chewing up any stirring memories to tatters before they manage to lace themselves upon his tongue. "He used to hit me too, when I was little."

There's nothing more to it, words only small, insignificant specks of storytelling, of meagre sounds he somehow manages to utter without collapsing. "But he stopped eventually."

Things are better like that, simply said and free of echoes. Like the stating of facts, completed spellings of difficult words, punctuation after a sentence. Nothing more, nothing less. "He became nicer after that. When I turned seven."

"He stopped?" Changbin looks at him surprised, eyes wide as his forehead creases. Hyunjin's stomach curls at his astonishment. "Really?"

He nods, something sour and rotten filling the caverns of his mouth, hands desperate to replace it with the ashen promise of a cigarette-bound murder instead.

"Wow. Kind of didn't think that was possible." Changbin shakes his head, expression simmering in disbelief. "I can't imagine my father just...turning nice all of the sudden."

"It wasn't sudden." Somewhere deep in his chest he feels a sick, sick need to defend him. He doesn't let the thought linger on his mind for more than a second, mouth and tongue far, far away from what wretched feeling in his core.

He thinks life could be bearable like this, lips detached from his heart. "Not really. Besides I think he hit me because my mother told him to. He wanted to please her." Brain undone from his soul. "He was never really...cruel toward me."

Changbin gives him a faint, gentle smile, the conviction with which he speaks like a well-honed edge to pierce him with. "Well, I'm glad he turned nice."

"Yeah well." An ugly, distorted sounding laugh slips through before he can stop it as trails and sludges of a tightly kept bitterness bleed through the cracks, head filled only with the numbing grains of static, static, static. "A little too nice if you ask me."

The words register in his head far too late, Changbin's eyebrows furrowing in a dawning confusion, eyes widening just slightly as if catching up at last, Hyunjin's tingly, needle-spun detachment crashing into him all at once as a sick, nauseating swell of panic surges its way up his throat.

"Wait-"

"I'm hungry," he cuts off, heart pounding viciously against his chest as his fingers pinch his arm in the rapid expanding of nerves to render him shaky, chest constricting and loosening with an erratic, poorly concealed spell of hysteria.

"Do you want to..." He swallows, eyes flitting around the dark of night as if searching for something to guide him, gaze littered with specks of anxiety no doubt as they land back upon Changbin's staring expression. "Do you want to order food?"

"Really?" Changbin breaks into a wide grin then, relief flooding through him instantly. Perhaps he didn't understand what he meant, maybe he hadn't even heard his stupid, stupid impulsive slip up. He supposes to the unaware ear, his words would mean nothing close to their truth. "You mean something else besides cereal and oatmeal?"

He smiles weakly back, eyes playing into their exasperated little roll as he tries to steady the aching throb of his beating heart. No, Changbin hadn't noticed. He hadn't. "Yes, really. Since you're so persistent, I can try something else."

"You won't regret it," Changbin insists, back straightening immediately in an overexaggerated severity, hands fishing forth his phone to place an order no doubt. "What do you want?"

"I don't know." Hyunjin grimaces, nausea simmering down with each mischievous little grin Changbin sends him, chest fluttering with an airy, gentle lightness. "It's too overwhelming. Just pick something."

Changbin nods at that, body exuding joy with every second that passes. "How about I pick a bunch of different stuff and oh- we definitely have to get sushi. You give me sushi energy."

Hyunjin only stares at him quizzically, face scrunched up in confusion. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know," Changbin admits, grin sneaking its way across his lips once more. "It's just something Jia says all the time. I'm just trying to be hip!"

Hyunjin clamps a hand over his mouth as he tries to stifle his laughter, Changbin shooting him an exasperated, melodramatic look immediately. "Don't laugh!"

Hyunjin only shoots him a playful grin, the cigarette long forgotten in his grip as he giggles quietly. "I don't think using the word 'hip' is doing you any favors."

Changbin straightens up at once, an incredulous expression flickering across his face. "I'm more hip than you!"

"Ha!" Hyunjin snorts. "No way."

Changbin points a teasing finger in his face, eyes wide and expectant as he tries not to break his facade with the ghost of a grin lingering upon his lips. "Do you even have a favorite My Little Pony? Yeah, I didn't think so!"

Hyunjin laughs, eyes crinkling as he shakes his head. "What's that?"

"See?! Don't say I'm not hip!"

Hyunjin puts his hand back gingerly over his mouth to disguise the loud rises of laughter surging through him at the sheer ridiculousness of Changbin's earnest, the grin seeping through the cracks as he stares at him fondly.

Still smiling, Hyunjin only shoots him a look. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just..." Changbin beams, the curve soft around the edges. "You're really pretty when you laugh."

"Then I won't laugh ever again." Hyunjin quickly contorts his lips into a thin, rigid line as he glares him down in that same overexaggerated gravity, Changbin's grin only widening with each second that passes.

His seriousness only manages to last mere seconds before he starts to crack, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he bites back a smile, leaning in to look at Changbin's phone as he stumps the butt of his cigarette in his ashtray. "What did you order?"

"Okay so," Changbin takes a deep breath as if preparing for something lengthy, Hyunjin shooting him an incredulous look before he continues, "I ordered some sushi because I think it's a crime you haven't tried it. And then some Korean fried chicken, some ramen and some tteokbokki."

"You...what?"

Changbin grins, his radiance infectious through the balmy air between them. "You're gonna love it."

Hyunjin nods, suddenly more than aware of the sudden proximity between them, eyes shifting nervously across Changbin's face as his gut begins to stir. "Thank you for everything. Really. Again, I'm sorry for dragging you into this..."

Changbin only shoots him a lighthearted smile, knowing, as usual, how to crack through the hardened shell of his heart. "I'd let you drag me anywhere you want. Seriously, I'm happy to help."

For a second the horrid remainders of his sleepless nights come trudging back to haunt him, wilted lilies and low, hanging necks in the disappointment of childlike fantasies always beyond reach making his stomach clench painfully.

He'd bled himself dry of rotten decay in front of this man, cried and wept like a baby, blabbered nothing but illogical incoherencies hysterical enough to drive anyone away and yet...Changbin still smiles at him as if he'd personally hand-painted each and every constellation he'd once shown him.

Hyunjin forces down the guilt strangling him from the inside, lip curving into a smirking, playful smile instead as he leans in from his own chair, hand teasing upon Changbin's thigh, fingers trailing their way upward in slow, sensual little flutters.

Changbin looks at him momentarily shrouded in surprise, eyes clouding with a pained, almost conflicted expression before he places his own hand upon Hyunjin's, halting his movements as he stares at him in earnest. "Hyunjin, you don't have to..." his face grimaces then, as if the words clang horribly against his ear, "repay me or anything."

Hyunjin laughs, though there's nothing particularly funny at all. "I'm not-"

Changbin curls his grip around his hand protectively, Hyunjin blinking in shock as Changbin lifts it up from his lap and guides back to his own. "I think you should just take it easy for the rest of the night. We don't have to...do anything. I'm more than happy just being with you like this."

He frowns, doubt plunging its way straight into him. "I...you don't want to have sex?"

Changbin sighs, lacing his fingers within his own as he shoots him a solemn look. Hyunjin's heart quickens, eyes flickering down immediately to their hands intertwined together. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I think I've made it more than clear how I feel about you...but let's just, relax for tonight yeah? Eat some good food and...and chill. Yeah?"

For a while he says nothing, jaw clenching as he tries to understand whether to let the urge to be consumed by anger overwhelm or him or not. In the end he lets it go gently, not even sure whether the brewing spikes of irritation had truly been there or not.

He glances back up at Changbin then, biting his lip nervously as he peers into him with wide, expectant eyes. "Maybe...maybe we can watch a movie?" God, he has no idea what the fuck he's doing. "When the food arrives?"

Changbin's unfurling beam is quick to stifle any insecurities, eyes scrunching up in a simple, earthly happiness Hyunjin plunges straight into. "Sure! Any ideas?"

"No, I've barely seen any," he says, teeth still gnawing up on his lips in apprehension. Strangely enough it feels nothing like the knots his stomach usually finds itself in. "You can choose."

"Oh wow, okay." Changbin takes a deep breath, back straightening itself once more, knuckles cracking as if getting ready for something big. Hyunjin stifles another laugh. "That's a lot of pressure."

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head, gaze scrunched up with curiosity.

Changbin looks at him as if the answer is more than obvious. "Well if you haven't seen many movies, I need to pick a good one."

He rolls his eyes at that, squeezing their laced hands together as if on instinct. He tries not let the way Changbin's eyes light up affect him. He already knows it's a lost battle. "Don't be silly, I'll like whatever."

"Really?" Changbin shoots him a skeptic look, forehead creasing in doubt. "'Cause you kind of strike me as someone with particular taste."

Hyunjin frowns, eyebrows scrunched up in deep thought. The only movies he'd watched growing up were cartoons really and his mother detested whenever he'd watch them. "Just...nothing violent. Or sad. Or scary." He pauses for a moment, the most important one of all striking him suddenly, eyes boring into Changbin with a sharp, serious glare. "Or sappy."

Changbin's lip quirks up into a grin. "So basically nothing then?"

"Find something fun," is all he says, words tumbling out like a playful command as Changbin nods in deep seriousness, standing up immediately as Hyunjin follows suit, their interwoven hands still well-threaded as Changbin helps him back inside the living room, closing the screen door behind them.

Rolling his eyes and biting back a smile, Hyunjin only turns on the TV and hands him the remote, Changbin pressing enough buttons and entering applications he's only ever really glanced at as he starts filtering through what he assumes to be popular movies.

Hyunjin's television remains almost entirely unused despite the amount of time he spends within the bleakened walls of his apartment, his stomach brewing with curiosity at each passing title Changbin decides to look at, his expression furrowed as if in deep thought.

Hyunjin laughs quietly at the severity in which he seems to take in choosing a movie, chest fluttering airily as that cursed little butterfly starts fluttering its wings back to life.

"Alright..." Changbin mutters, shooting him a pained grimace as if suddenly reminded of something. "God, I can't remember the last time I watched an adult movie. The previous movie I watched was Barbie of Swan Lake and I've already seen it so many times I think I could quote it in my sleep."

Hyunjin giggles, drawing his knees to his chest at the imagine of a vibrant, skirt-twirling Jia forcing her father to sit down and watch princess movies night after night. "Really? Is it good at least?"

Changbin seems to think for a moment, shaking his head in resolution. "Personally I like her in The Nutcracker more."

"How many are there?" He grins, Changbin glancing back to look at him as he deadpans. "Too many."

Hyunjin laughs once more as Changbin's expression morphs into one of a soft, gentle fondness, eyes flickering across his face as if overcome by the sudden urge to lean in.

In the end Changbin seems almost struck by a wave of rattled nerves, turning his head quickly back toward the TV, remote clicking away incessantly as he continues to provide small commentary on the ones he'd already seen, Hyunjin listening to them intently with amusement.

"No more chick flicks..." Changbin mutters, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, "Jisung has already made me watch too many but don't tell him I said that or he'll kill me...although I will admit The Devil Wears Prada was unreasonably good..."

Hyunjin hums, not really knowing what any of that means until Changbin at last seems to land on a movie that satisfies him, the Japanese-styled illustration of a young girl with mousy, brown hair staring determinately over her shoulder almost piercing him from her unwavering sense of embarking upon a journey.

"I think you'd like this one." Changbin grins at him as he skims the title, the words Spirited Away imprinted upon the little girl's head reminding him instantly of the unwinding, passionate tales of adventure he'd used to read beneath his covers as a child, eyes glancing up at Changbin from where his back has become slumped and small against the couch, glossy almost, from the light he assumes.

"Alright," he says, a small, almost timid smile slipping through his face as his words feel oddly heavy and leaden upon his tongue. "I trust you."

Changbin bites his lip before he grins, gaze once more glimmering with yearning and an aching, cavernous desire to all but lean in and slaughter that puny distance between them but he simply looks away again and presses play on the movie, back falling gently against the couch as he relaxes, their arms touching from how they rest side by side.

Hyunjin tries intently to focus on the screen before him, enraptured and immersed pretty quickly by its unusual, mythical storytelling and yet his mind dwindles into small prickles of distraction every now then, body suddenly hyperaware of Changbin next to him, heartrate quickening each time he lets the thought linger through his head.

He feels like a teenager, he thinks, or imagines he does, not really sure what juvenile romance was supposed to feel like, fantasizing that if it truly were to feel like anything, it would probably be something like this. The thought does nothing to comfort him, but he feels oddly at peace with it in that very moment, limbs and muscled light and fluttery despite the restless jitters of that godforsaken butterfly.

The food arrives after a while, Changbin making his way down to the lobby and back up again in order for Hyunjin not to strain his legs, grin wide as he returns with his hands full of plastic bags, placing each item carefully upon his coffee table until its entirety has been filled with dishes he'd never once seen in his life, the sheer amount making his jaw drop open in incredulity. "How are we gonna eat all this?!"

"Trust me," Changbin laughs, handing him a pair of chopsticks as he tries miserably to hold them correctly, "too much food has never been an issue."

Hyunjin only shakes his head in disbelief, several trays of colorful sushi, fried chicken, bowls of wafting, hearty-smelling ramen and red covered rice cakes all accompanied by smaller, unrecognizable side dishes adorning the table as his head starts to swim. Changbin gives him an amused, fond look, already quick to start picking up bites of sushi and eating them contentedly.

Hyunjin swallows, glancing up at him nervously as a sharp throb spreads from his leg, the sudden realization of what he's doing, of they're doing, striking him in painful jabs of anxiety. He lets out an airy, uneasy string of laughter as Changbin notices his churning, transcending doubt. "God, you must've thought I was high as kite or something earlier."

Changbin places his chopsticks back down on the table as his voice turns softer, eyes simmering with that same kind, reassuring gaze to tether him back to solace. "Over the phone, I admit I was thinking it. But nah," he shakes his head, smiling gently, "your pupils were normal. I would've been able to tell."

Hyunjin gives him a tight, slightly strained smile, stomach curling in on itself before he can stop it. "So just crazy then. Not sure if that makes it any better."

"What do you define as crazy?" Changbin says, placing a few pieces of rice cakes upon his plate, eyes still boring into him with that grounding sense of certainty. "You were scared and you acted on it. Doesn't that make us all a little crazy? Besides, drugs or not, paranoia is fucking terrifying. I get it."

Hyunjin says nothing for a while, wishing there somehow was a way for Changbin to understand, to truly, wholeheartedly see the rifts and bumps of his flesh before he became too deeply engrained within them, to run far, far away from the crushing, dirtying grip of his own outreaching claws, ready, eager to destroy within it all of his deepest, shadow-filled secrets and desires, to smother to pulp all of that which he'd never know, which he yearns for only in the shame-bound marrows of his bones, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing it to sinful, unearthly juices to water him with, poison him to a life that could end only in tatters and painful pictures of that wretched doomsday he's been cursed with-

"I don't know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, but I can tell it isn't good," Changbin says, cutting his trail of thought as it withers back down his stomach, settling somewhere he isn't able to see, too blinded, distracted by the soothing lull in Changbin's gaze. "C'mon." He grins, gesturing to the table of treasures right in front of him. "Eat your sushi."

Hyunjin swallows his rattled nerves away for now, binding himself instead to undeserving simplicity of tear drops born not from sadness or anger. He keeps them carefully guarded within his heart, hopes their outpouring stream and bubbling, cascading flow will be enough to nurture him for years. Even if not, even if only for a couple of days, Hyunjin thinks, he wouldn't replace it with anything.

Smiling, Hyunjin struggles with his chopsticks for a few seconds, managing at last to gingerly pick up a piece of rice-wrapped salmon as he stuffs the whole thing into his mouth, Changbin looking at him expectantly as Hyunjin's eyes widen in surprise, flavors exploding through his mouth in delight. Swallowing, he shakes his head in disbelief. "Wow, that's really good, what the fuck?"

Changbin grins, seemingly overcome with satisfaction as Hyunjin continues to try small bites of every dish, eyes bulging in pleasant bewilderment from the amount of rich, tasty flavors he'd been missing out on for so many years. Then again he supposes there was a lot he hadn't gotten to experience, things far more important than food.

The thought is strangely barren of any bitterness as he lets it mull throughout his head. Changbin resumes the movie after a while, the story twisting and winding its way enthrallingly, the characters quick to pull him in as the two of them watch in a comfortable, inviting sense of silence, Changbin making a few jokes here and there as Hyunjin lets his chest rise with small titters unbound from the strain in which it normally breathes out.

He can feel, throughout the night with a tingling, expanding chill down his spine, Changbin stealing small glances his way, his own eyes mimicking his plain desire despite how hard he tries to train them intently upon the screen, heart rate steady yet fluttery all at the same time.

He doesn't know how long they sit there, can recognize vaguely the movie coming to its end as his stomach rests in a satisfying, comforting fullness, the ache in his leg having turned into nothing but a dull, muted throb as the sky darkens to a deep, ocean blue outside his windows.

His eyes feel heavy then, murky and stuffed with cotton as if weighed down by something for once not born from grueling nightmares or visions to haunt him with for the rest of the night, a sudden yawn escaping him as he tries to keep them open.

In the end his desire remains as futile as it always seems to be, shimmery, enchanting pearls of sleep capturing him with ease as he at last lets his eyes succumb to a repose barren of pain and agony, chest heaving gently up and down as his mind trails into incompletion.

He thinks his neck might drop to the side, something sturdy right next to him halting its fall though he can't quite be sure, head dipping its toes into waters unfounded, turquoise, glittery ripples balmy against the touch as he lets himself fall all too willingly - down, down, down, he doesn't know where, the rabbit hole, the bottom of an empty, freezing well, the caverns of the deep sea adorned with bejeweled, precious gemstones, another world perhaps, another lifetime, somewhere he can continue to sleep and sleep and sleep like this until he at last succumbs to a peaceful, flower-rimmed death.

He doesn't want to wake up, ever, ever, ever. Something shifts beside him then, gentle touches brushing wispy strands of hair away from his face, soft, barely noticeable imprints of the sweetest echo of a kiss upon his forehead.

No, he thinks, thankful for the ephemerality of his dreams. That isn't true.

Notes:

hyunjin finally opening up and being vulnerable in front of changbin?🥺😢 he’s slowly starting to trust him now in a way he’s never trusted anybody. and now that he’ll be staying over, look forward to some jia interactions very soon👀

 

after five years of being a stay, i saw skz for the first time at hyde park yesterday and it was the best day of my life, omg i will never be normal after this so please stay tuned for more deranged, obsessive fics because there’s not like i can do anything else with my life now 💀

next chapter on thursday!💕🫶

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 12: Remnants of the Moon

The sun filters gently through the soft linen of his curtains like pleasant, summery streaks of a fragrant warmth, his eyes fluttering open groggily as he lets them slowly adjust to the light.

For a second Hyunjin has no idea where he is, head dazed and disoriented still from the heavy, tranquil fortune of a dreamless sleep, lips dry and mouth lingering with an odd, souring taste the longer he lets his limbs sink into the lulling embrace of his sheets. His muscles feel nice like this, heavy and dense in a comfortable, serene lack of rigid strings to pull him up, up, up in the inevitability of falling back down again.

He exhales deeply after a while, body stirring back to a gradual, befuddled state of life as he turns to the side and peers up curiously, the familiar frame of Changbin sitting right next to him, already awake with his back against the headboard, creating a sudden unfurling punch right to his gut as his memory floods back to his sleep-rattled mind.

Hyunjin isn't quite sure what courses through in that very moment, embarrassment, shame, warmth, guilt, fluttery, tingling butterflies flapping their wings against his ribcage and yet it all comes tumbling down as soon as Changbin notices that he's awake anyway, lips curving into a gentle, soothing smile that always leaves him reeling.

"Hey," Hyunjin mutters, eyes crinkling slightly, his voice scratchy and low as he tries to blink away the exhaustion still clinging onto his body.

Something hot and toasty comes running down his spine at the way Changbin looks down at him, face curved to a tender, honeyed fondness, - a warm cup of tea to defrost his bones after a long night spent unsheltered upon the desert floor. His gut sinks at the feeling, though it isn't unpleasant. For a moment he does nothing to push it away.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Changbin says, voice soft, amused almost as if he'd been wondering when he'd wake up. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Hyunjin lets his head loll softly against his pillow, body too tired still to make any efforts of getting up, the mellow repose of his bed for once something he longs to lean into, to burrow within his aching limbs until all their crumpled wrinkles have at last smoothened out. "What time is it?"

"Around noon." Changbin smiles, Hyunjin blinking sluggishly as the information eventually catches up to him.

"Don't you have work?" Something weak and childish preens inside his chest then, a low, rumbling desperation not to be left alone, to reach forward and cling onto that steady, swell of comfort and reassurance for as long as he can, the light, wispy rays from outside catching the side of Changbin's face like streaks of a springtime canary, or a even bumblebee. Buzzing and nudging gently against his window, begging to be let in. Hyunjin swallows, fingers clutching subconsciously against his flimsy blanket.

"I took the day off," Changbin says, lips still curved upward contentedly, relief surging through his chest at the words. Still, guilt becomes him, his eyes downturned and mouth sloping into a worried, remorseful pout.

And Hyunjin thinks Changbin is starting to see right through him at this point, his body nothing but a fragile veil of hole-scattered lace for him to peer into whenever he wants, his assurance alleviating that uncomfortable knot instantly. "Don't worry, I didn't have any scheduled appointments today or anything."

"Okay," he breathes out, his voice winding into a small, meek whisper, eyes flitting across Changbin's face as he gently bites his lip. "How long have you been awake?"

"Maybe about an hour or so." He grins, gaze settling softly upon his own sheet-tangled body. "I haven't slept this long in forever."

Hyunjin narrows his eyes then, eyeing him skeptically as he gingerly runs a hand through his hair. God he hopes it doesn't look like a bird's nest. "So you've just been watching me sleep?"

Changbin's grin widens at that, face glinting handsomely from the sun. "I'm unashamed to admit that yes, I have. You look very beautiful when you sleep, all peaceful and...angelic."

"Angelic?" Hyunjin snorts, eyebrow quirking in disbelief, Changbin still as steadfast and determined as always despite his doubt.

"Yup. Didn't I tell you you were an angel?"

Hyunjin rolls his eyes despite the smile threatening to bloom across his face, wincing slightly as he sits up straight against the headboard, the dull pain in his leg throbbing gently back to life whenever he moves it.

Flashes of the night before come flooding into his mind then, sharp, jarring colors of an oozing, pitiful crimson red dripping down onto his floor, tear-stained cheeks and the open wound of vulnerability cracking right out of him. Unwillingly, he grimaces at the memory, humiliation tunneling through his stomach as he tries not to let it spiral out of control.

"How's your leg?" Changbin asks, eyeing him curiously as Hyunjin slowly gets out of the bed, limbs stretching away their ache satisfactorily before turning back to look at him.

"It just hurts when I move it, but it's fine," he says, turning toward his wardrobe as he starts to delicately strip, peeling off his sweatshirt with stretchy, pliant movements, sure that he can feel Changbin's eyes burning right into him from the bed.

He tries not to grin as he discards himself of his shorts, feigning indifference as he slips on a black satin night robe, skin eager and desperate to feel the coolness of water droplets run across him.

"I'll help you walk." Changbin gets out of the bed as well then, treading toward him as Hyunjin spins back around to look at him, his gaze flickering momentarily down to his gauze-wrapped leg as if almost having forgotten it was even there. How was he supposed to shower with that? Nerves scatter inside his chest, throat swallowing anxiously.

"It's not that bad." Hyunjin rolls his eyes at Changbin's excessive concern, his hand coming to support around his waist immediately. Hyunjin wants to scoff and push him away, but only strangles the feeling, leaning in to his touch instead with a low, content hum. "It's just a cut."

Changbin's forehead creases, peering into him worriedly. "A deep one, still."

For a second he feels caught off guard almost, by their proximity, Changbin's face close enough for him to study each slope and crevice, to catch the skin of his lips within his teeth should he all but let himself lean forward. He shakes the feeling away, its remnants tugging and pulling his stomach down, down, down.

Hyunjin only smiles softly instead, capturing Changbin's gaze with the gentleness of his own. "It's not like any of my muscles are torn. My movements will just be a little bit sloppy and painful if I dance yet, but I give it like...four days tops."

Changbin quirks an eyebrow at that, not seemingly convinced. "Alright. If you say so. I still think you should see a doctor."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at him playfully, letting out a deep, strenuous sigh after a while, a wave of fatigue rippling through him. "I just need to call Jinyoung..."

Changbin visibly sours at that, lips thinning into a frown as the muscles in his jaw harden, though he's quick to look away, contorting his features into that of the gentle kindness he's become so used to by now, the one imprinted upon him entirely undeserving. Still Hyunjin notices his little slip up, guilt burrowing into his gut as he tries desperately to gnaw it away.

"I haven't...done anything with him since the release party," he mutters, after a while, eyebrows knit together in apprehension as Changbin turns back to look at him, face morphing into one of brief surprise. Hyunjin thinks he can see a few streaks of relief bound within there too.

"Oh," he exhales, eyes skirting around his face rapidly, uncertain, no doubt, of what he's supposed to say. "I wasn't uh...insinuating that you had."

Hyunjin only raises an eyebrow at that, leaning in slightly as he runs a hand up his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt soft and flimsy against his touch.

"No, but that expression like you were constipated did." He laughs then, mouth curving into a mischief grin as he loops his arms around his neck, head tilting teasingly to the side. "You don't have to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Changbin is quick to grumble, though he seems far too delighted at Hyunjin's body pressed against his own for him to take any semblances of displeasure too seriously.

"Oh really?" His eyebrow quirks upward again at that, eyes glinting with far too much amusement.

"Well okay I don't love the thought of you together." Changbin deadpans, voice dwindling into a petulant mutter near the end, Hyunjin stifling a laugh at his sulky expression. "He's rich. And tall."

Hyunjin grins, the lightness in his chest expanding throughout his body, Changbin's fingers twirling a pinch of his satin fabric between them from where they lie rested against his waist. "Maybe I prefer short guys. I always thought gnomes were kind of cute."

Changbin's jaw drops at that, eyes bulging incredulously as his grip around the night robe loosens in shock. "I know you did not just call me a gnome."

Unable to swallow the strings of giggles that rise out of his throat, Hyunjin only leans against his chest as laughter wracks throughout his body, Changbin staring at him in wide, marred disbelief.

"You call me princess, don't you?" He manages to utter after a while, grin still wide and intact as Changbin vehemently shakes his head.

"That's different! There's nothing insulting about being called a princess-"

"Oh yes there is," Hyunjin cuts him off, eyeing him gravely then despite the ridges of amusement littering his voice, jabbing an accusing, sharp finger against his chest as he cocks an eyebrow. "You started calling me princess because you thought I was bratty and spoiled. Remember?"

"Nope," Changbin insists, head shaking still in denial as an all too pleased smile graces his face. "It was because I thought you were beautiful and elegant."

Hyunjin only deadpans at that, Changbin adamant on holding his ground, steadfast and resolute as always as he grins. "I may not have said that out loud but...I was definitely thinking it." His grip around his waist tightens then, drawing him in even closer as that wretched little butterfly comes fluttering back to life. "I still do."

Hyunjin pouts, the loud thrumming in his chest almost vicious enough to make him falter. Still he doesn't, only peers into him with all the shimmers and specks of stardust he manages, eyes round and feigned in naivety. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Is that even a question?" Changbin laughs, gaze flickering across his face with something deep and puncturing weaving its way through. "Of course I do. Doesn't everyone?"

Hyunjin grins, ease and comfort slithering between them in a way he's never once been lucky enough to have known, to let his feet dip in rippled waters without a blooming flesh turning muddied and bleeding from the current.

"Beautiful enough to make me breakfast?" He bites his lip playfully, stare coy as Changbin all but sinks into it head first, soul only seconds behind.

"Beautiful enough to go to war over." He laughs, the sound mellow and sweet as it rings through the air between them. "So yes. Definitely."

Hyunjin smiles, wishing for a second that time would not expand between that sloping, harmonious moment he threads within him as they stand there, limbs weightless and unburdened by the inevitability of his own short comings, eyelashes fluttering open and shut to the steady rhythm of his heart. "Your compliments never cease to amaze me."

"I'm just stating the truth." Changbin grins, hand reaching up to his face as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, touch feathery and light against his skin. "What do you want for breakfast? You don't have any food. I can cook you something at my place?"

Hyunjin nods after a while, having almost forgotten entirely that he'd agreed to spend a few days over at Changbin's apartment, small seeds of uncertainty brewing back to life the longer he lets the thought linger in his mind.

Despite the airy, rose-colored veil of carefreeness he's unwillingly wrapped around his body, Hyunjin knows his way of life, knows that the paths of his mere existence is anything but simple, limited and gutted day after day by that same three-leafed clover watered by the very blood and tears within him.

He needs things a certain way, a certain angle, a certain number, a tedious, repetitive cotton-tongued counting, that ritual, that endless slaughter of himself to keep the day going as it should, to make it right and though he'd subjected Changbin to a sliver of it the night before Hyunjin isn't sure if he can keep it controlled and leveled enough for more than one day, especially with the chaotic nature of a child to keep him on his toes.

He swallows then, his mother's words ringing through his skull as he tries desperately to ignore them, he has a problem, she yells, voice shrill and scratchy as he shakes his head adamantly in denial because no, no, no, he doesn't. He doesn't. He can go a couple of days without cleaning his apartment and besides it'll be Changbin's apartment now. It isn't his responsibility anyway. He'll be fine. Okay.

The sullied echoes of bugs woven into his flesh are faded by now, his body rested and settling into a buzzing, slowly steadying calm. Last night was merely the result of an insomnia induced paranoia. He'll be fine. He'll be fine. As long as he doesn't wake up screaming and sobbing as he claws at his throat next to Changbin during the night...no, that's silly.

He'd never succumbed to the cruel fate of a nightmare next to Changbin during sleep, in fact every time they'd ended up in the reposeful trance of slumber together, he'd kept his eyes shut and dreamless like a happy, well-fed baby rocked gently back and forth in its crib. Well. He supposes it had been something like that. He wouldn't know, really, how children are put to ease.

A deep, unnerving swell plunges within him then, his eyes skittish as they scan the gentle contentment of Changbin's face, a gnawing, incessant thought nagging at the back of his mind as he thinks to last night, how he'd fallen so easily, so carelessly into the floaty descent of dreamscape as if it had been nothing of a burden at all.

"Do you..." he starts, gaze flickering up and down nervously until they eventually settle calmly upon him, "do you know when we fell asleep last night?"

Changbin seems momentarily surprised at the question, eyebrows scrunching up in deep thought as flashes of Hyunjin's drooping, sleepy face come burrowing into his mind no doubt. "Around midnight."

His heart freezes at that, mouth inhaling a sharp, jarring gust of breath as Changbin peers at him quizzically, his stomach dropping in a strange, almost unnerving sense of doom. "Are you sure?"

He doesn't know why it bothers him so, doesn't really know whether he should be relieved, thankful for the momentary interruption in that wretched curse thrust upon him or if he should let his bones consume themselves with anger once more, the string of fate, of doing as he knows crumbling viciously to the ground in one, pitiful heap of mangled dust.

"Yeah," Changbin confirms, nodding slowly as his forehead pinches in concern, his own distress bleeding through him in tenfold. "Chan texted me after you fell asleep. It was a little after midnight, I remember."

"Oh," is all he settles on, a slow thrum of fury brewing quietly within him, unsure really, to whom it longed to blister.

He'd spent years like that, submerged in the bane of that haunted space of time, three o'clock, three o'clock, his bedtime, yes it had been his bedtime for as long as he could recall, eyes wide and shiny with pearly drops of terror, tears, excitement, disgust, a groaning, terrible terrible dread as they stared upon the ceiling, waiting, waiting, waiting for the clock to strike three, for the confirmation to befall him that no, he wouldn't be coming that night, the allowance of sleep, of at last letting his guard down and plunging to the pits of exhaustion.

"Why?" Changbin asks, the question billowing through him like waves of something nauseous and putrid as he only shakes his head lightheartedly, nervous laughter strumming out of him in small rises.

"No, nothing," he says, a heavy, numbing lie upon his tongue. It's everything, everything. "I was just wondering."

Changbin seems to accept his answer after a while, eyes softening as his hands squeeze around his waist. Hyunjin decides there and then that he'll think of it later, let his bones wither with panic in the darkened luxury of solitude instead.

"You fell asleep on my shoulder and I carried you to bed." Changbin smiles, its curve tilting upward in amusement. "You make a lot of sounds when you sleep, did you know that?"

A sudden string of nervousness strikes through him then, the unforeseen fear that he might talk in his sleep coursing through him. "What kind of sounds?"

"I don't know..." Changbin breathes out, forehead creasing as if in deep thought, a strange ripple of fondness unraveling through him along with the memory. "It's like...these soft hums or whines...or exhales, I don't know. Like a cat purring."

Hyunjin only scrunches his face up in surprise, momentary laughter surging through him as his eyes can do nothing but blink in confusion. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that information."

"It was cute." Changbin grins, the rays of sun filtering in from behind his curtains lighter than before, glimmers of something summerly and fresh dancing upon his skin. Lemon-balmed and citrusy. Hyunjin breathes in all the fragrance of picnic days like he's never had them, warmly, easily, with a floaty, delicate heart. He hasn't, he thinks, the smell addicting through quiet, desperate inhalations. "That's all."

He only gives Changbin a long, unknowing look, mind shadowed in a dim haze as strange feelings pass him by, their outlines too foggy and blurred for him to grasp onto with the flimsy unpredictability of his clutch.

He entertains the thought of leaning in for a few, wandering seconds, lets it mull over in his brain like a tempting tether of rope cast out before him, luring him in with the promise of rescue, how simple it would be, how easy and selfish to tilt his neck just enough, just enough to slaughter that meagre idleness of his own mouth.

Instead he excuses himself coyly, twirling his way out of Changbin's hold as he tells him how he needs to freshen up in the bathroom, brush his teeth, shower, get dressed, unravel himself slowly and bleedingly with the unforgiving clasp of his own touch.

He can't get water on that leg, Changbin insists, but quickly offers a solution at the pearly fleet of terror that shines in his eyes at that, if he wraps it plastic.

And so Hyunjin agrees because of course he does, how could he not shower and clean himself after all that happened yesterday, after the grime and filth of his own shame had burrowed its way far too deep into him, pluck, pluck, plucking him apart piece by piece.

Quietly he follows Changbin's orders as he guides him into the bathroom, gently reapplying the gauze and bandages with a small smile upon his face, his hand resting upon his thigh steady and secure and so, so addicting.

No infections, Changbin announces happily as Hyunjin mimics the soft curves of his lips, thankful as he begins to wrap a cut off sheet of plastic from a bag around his leg, holding it together with thick pieces of duct tape.

Changbin leaves him alone after that, his legs standing back up abruptly as soon as the door shuts behind him as Hyunjin stares at his reflection in the mirror, fingers running desperately through his hair in an attempt to smoothen it out.

He brushes his teeth rigorously then, nerves strumming through his stomach once he slips the robe off of his shoulders and lets the scalding droplets of water run satisfyingly down his back, hands a little more gentle, he thinks, as he slowly completes the threads of his ritual.

Freshly shaven and clean, he spends an embarrassing amount of time getting ready, really, the attention to every single detail of his body and face so meticulous he thinks it borders on insanity and yet the stomach-fluttering thought of the person on the other side of the door lingers in his mind for far too long, gut determined and resolute to make sure he paints himself perfect, perfect, perfect. At least in the one way he can.

His insides sour the more he thinks of it, strings the need for outer perfection even higher as he lets his own gaze burn itself into his eyes, his reflection pearly and florid and plunged in a starlike, lace of finely woven threads.

Never before has he feared the cessation of his beauty as in that very moment, the echo of his face sloped so fragilely, so delicately upon the matted surface of his mirror like a patter of raindrops only summers away from drying - the sweetest of gifts, the loveliest of curses.

Hyunjin swallows, fingers shaky once he's rendered himself presentable, decided through the harrowing teeth of his mind and his mind only that he's at last achieved the utmost measure of flawlessness, of shallow, breakable illusions of a beauty that's anything but God-given.

He hopes it's enough, for Changbin. For himself. At least for a few days, at least to paint over the gritty ridges of his looping, counting mind, tick tock, tick, tock, tick tock. He hopes the time won't run out.

His room is empty when he returns to it, Changbin no doubt having migrated into the living room as Hyunjin gets dressed quickly, a simple white tank top with a flowy, silk shirt to pull over, black jeans and an incessant smoothening out of any creases before he starts to pack a bag, deciding ultimately that it's safer to bring too many items of clothing than not bringing enough.

His gym bag feels heavy almost once he's finished, the tissue brimming with creams and lotions and so many toiletries he realizes for the first time just how many he has. Whatever, it's the only thing he spends his money on anyway.

Changbin is waiting patiently by his kitchen counter as he steps out of his bedroom, attention diverting joyfully from his phone and up to him as a wide grin snakes its way across his face.
Hyunjin smiles softly, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he makes his way over, stomach humming with restless, jittery nerves. "I'm ready-"

"You look breathtaking," Changbin says, cutting him off as if unable to stop himself, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head as he glares back playfully.

"Let's go."

Changbin quirks an eyebrow at that, teasing smile resting upon his lips. "Oh, impatient are we?"

"Yes, I'm hungry," he emphasizes, eyes narrowing in feigned irritation as Changbin quickly gets himself together, grabbing the bag of leftover food from the night before as he goes on a tangent about how quickly he'll drive and how a princess should never have to wait for breakfast!

Hyunjin follows him out into the hallway as he bites back a smile, Changbin's eyes glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to look at him with a fondness that plunges straight through him.

He tries to ignore the flapping, incessant wings of that lively butterfly, clutching onto Changbin's waist tightly the moment they're on his bike, the two of them speeding through the sun-soaked curves of the city as heatwave after heatwave gently bids them goodbye.

He thinks of nothing as he sits there, entirely too submerged in the bubbling seeds of anticipation that he thinks begin to rupture the moment they've arrived, skin tingly and dazed once he steps inside Changbin's apartment, the memories from the first time they'd slept together seeping slowly back into him once the lights are turned on.

It feels entirely too long ago, he thinks, too long ago and yet he remembers every little detail of both the addiction of the night and the humiliation of the morning as if woven painstakingly intricate into his mind.

He supposes he'd been too submerged in the panic induced feeling of waking up in someone else's apartment to truly claw out the seams of homeliness, of years and years of a carelessly bejeweled character honed simply from mere existence and a love untainted.

Now that he's back it feels almost impossible to miss, to let his eyes skim over every token and memory deeply engrained within the walls as if it carried with it nothing of a deep, rifting significance.

Even the light casts itself differently upon the floorboards, the yellow hues deeper and more welcoming, like imprints of a smoldered daffodil upon your fingertips. Changbin makes his way into the kitchen easily, giving him a smile as he tells him to make himself at home.

Hyunjin does not know what that means, had never once had a home to call his own, at least not like this, at least not like here with scattered remnants of childhood and adoration flourishing upon the wallpaper ridges like vegetation in abundance.

He can hear the faint sizzling of what he thinks might be a saucepan in the distance, Changbin no doubt having started his mission to make him breakfast already as he lets his own gaze wander about the apartment seamlessly, each colorful, kitschy emblem of life creating a sharp jab right in his gut.

The fridge is littered with an array of different photos, Jia's eclipsing smile blinding in almost every one of them, their extensiveness growing with age from each one he lets sear itself into his mind, the tiny cradle of a newborn baby with closed eyes and an innocent beam to the long, outgrown strands of black hair in twisted braids, mischievous grin very much conspicuously missing a tooth right in the middle.

Hyunjin smiles, Jia's eccentric, unrestrained behavior becoming more and more evident through each picture as her limbs stretch themselves longer and bigger. There are a couple of her seemingly the age she is now with large sunglasses perched upon her nose, a backward cap upon her head as she poses in an exaggerated cool manner, arms crossed over each other with a nonchalant glare into the camera.

Right beneath them are a couple of drawings held up with bright, animal magnets, the illustrations ranging from simple cats and turtles to large, intricately designed castles towering above what he thinks to be a dragon, though it's hard to tell from the energetically drawn squiggles characterizing its outline.

They're nothing special, Hyunjin muses and yet still they carry within them the juvenile charm of joy and imagination unbridled. Changbin had hung them up, not only kept them but hung them for display. Hyunjin frowns. His own mother used to rip his drawings to pieces right in front of him before tossing them in the trash can.

A strange feeling settles within him then, as it always does once he's reminded of how distorted his perception sometimes is...of course he knows his mother was nothing like how a mother should be and yet...well, he'd accepted most of her behavior as part of the way of life, a naturalness, action upon action not to be questioned. Perhaps he'd just accepted it because divulging in questions of why would be too painful, too intricate for the already mounting agony that used to terrorize him.

He swallows, shaking off the feeling. At least in the craters of a home like this, dipped and smoothened with the bright colors of a flourishing youth, Jia would unfold with the same promises of joy as the walls all around her.

Hyunjin straightens his back, ripping his gaze away from the fridge as he stares toward Changbin by the stove glancing at him fondly every now and then, the eggs seemingly ready by now, resting warmly and with a wafting scent of freshness tunneling toward him.

"Your highness." Changbin grins, lifting up the plate as Hyunjin accepts it gingerly, sitting down by the living room table as Changbin follows suit. Looking down at his plate, there are a couple pieces of toast and what he thinks to be hashbrowns as well, their exuding warmth thawing away at something icy inside of him.

Hyunjin smiles, forcing his nerves of touching the utensils to simmer down as he picks up each piece carefully with his fork and chews on them contentedly.

Changbin only raises his eyebrow in expectance, grin playful and teasing as he stares at him. "Well?" Hyunjin can certainly tell where Jia gets her mischievousness from. "Are my scrambled eggs as magical as I promised?"

"Hm." Hyunjin pretends to think for a while, eyeing him skeptically as if unable to make up his mind, chewing slowly to properly gauge their taste. He swallows at last, quirking up an eyebrow as he tries not to laugh. "If I say yes, do you promise not to be weird about it?"

"Weird?" Changbin blinks, shaking his head adamantly. "I'm never weird. I'm always perfectly chill thank you very much."

Hyunjin gives him a doubtful look, but nods nonetheless, grinning as he places his chin in the palm of his hand. "Then yes. They were very good."

Changbin smirks, expression cocky as he leans back on his chair. "The best you've ever had?"

Hyunjin opens his mouth to answer before narrowing his eyes immediately, the suggestive implication almost having flown straight over his head. "Fuck you."

Changbin laughs before arching an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be opposed to that."

Hyunjin only rolls his eyes before promptly kicking him in the shins under the table, Changbin's eyes widening in humorous disbelief before he settles back into a charming, good-natured grin. "Wow. Violent already?"

"And there's more where that came from," he scowls, biting back a smile as he glares him down, "so you better watch it."

"Ooh scary," Changbin teases, grin widening by the second. "If you're trying to scare me away, then I'm afraid that's not the way to do it."

"Oh really?" Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, taking a small bite of his toast.

"You cussed me out the second we met." Changbin laughs, eyes crinkling into mesmerizing half-moons. "And you tried to get me fired. If anything I'd say it has the opposite effect."

"Mm, masochistic are you?" He grins, his stomach groaning pleasantly from the warm welcoming of food.

"Only for you." Changbin winks, Hyunjin rolling his eyes immediately, grin still threatening to spill across his face. The light that falls upon them as they eat is comfortable, easy even, his mind oddly empty and free of creases until they both finish their breakfast, Changbin politely taking away his plate and loading it in the dishwasher once they're done.

Hyunjin only watches with an almost uncomfortable sense of fondness curling in his stomach as Changbin washes up, sneaking small secret glances his way as Hyunjin all but grins, unashamed in his staring.

"Enjoying the view?" He asks then, smirking once he's done, Hyunjin tilting his head to side as if in deep thought.

"Hm," he hums, picking disinterestedly at his nails. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just admiring your kitchen."

Changbin grins, shaking his head before he sits back down on the chair, expression changing as he chews on his bottom lip nervously. "Hey, I uh have some errands to run." Hyunjin sits up straight then, slightly taken aback. "Are you okay being here by yourself? I'll probably be gone a couple of hours."

"Oh um." He blinks for a few seconds, brain going into haywire already before ultimately pinching his thigh, forcing himself to focus. "No, I don't mind."

"Okay good," Changbin breathes out visibly in relief, standing back up again as he starts stuffing several items into a backpack, one he thinks he'd maybe recognized from the studio before. "And really feel at home, you can do whatever you want, watch TV, read, snoop around..." he laughs, the sound alleviating the brewing anxiety within him immediately, "and if you get hungry just take anything from the fridge. We have a shit ton of leftovers from yesterday anyway."

"Alright." He nods gently, lips curving upward faintly as Changbin finally gets everything ready.

Changbin leaves with a fond, almost hopeful smile, lingering quietly by the doorway as if contemplating something for a few seconds before ultimately deciding against it, bidding him a soft, cheery goodbye as Hyunjin can but smile back freely, Changbin's joy strangely infectious as it settles within the now empty apartment.

He doesn't mind being alone, not really, his mind reeling back to life in the lack of something to distract him with. He'll try not to let his thoughts wander too much, at least not yet, feet treading gingerly further into the apartment as he makes his way into Changbin's bedroom, lightly placing his gym bag on the floor.

The last time he'd been there the walls had been too swathed in darkness and a misty, red-colored haze that had fogged up his vision for him to truly make out anything, mind and body too occupied with other, rather licentious vices for him to care.

Now, with the chiffon colored rays of light cascading across the room, Hyunjin thinks it's oddly fitting for the haphazardly gathered strips of knowledge he'd obtained from Changbin over the course of the months he'd known him, the blue walls shaded just dark enough to accompany the black-colored bedspread without clashing gratingly.

Neither too small nor too big, Hyunjin thinks the room encompasses the feeling of a dark yet freeing sort of ease all too familiarly, the essence of comfort, steadfastness and a mellow promise of a good night's sleep all seeping into him the moment he closes the door behind him.

There are a couple of pictures on the wall, some framed illustrations of what he assumes to be finished tattoo works as well as a few photos of Changbin along with Jisung and Chan, their quality ranging from what appears to be a professionally taken photo outside of the studio to smaller, more chaotically and candidly taken snapshots by some shitty digital camera no doubt.

Hyunjin smiles at their unrestraint, eyes skimming around the room as he walks over to the bed, the right side away from the window seemingly Changbin's usual side based on the small, framed photo of Jia by the nightstand, her eyes shut and face drawn into a peaceful expression after having fallen asleep upon someone's lap, though it's hard to tell whose.

There a few other kitschy, character-driven items scattered around the room, strange clay figurines he assumes must have been made by Jia, band posters and CDs he's never once heard of in his life and three small pots of baby cacti by the windowsill.

Tempted to touch one, he reluctantly swallows away the urge before climbing sluggishly into the bed, stomach swirling in nerves as the realization of what he's doing suddenly kicks in, his fingers itching in restlessness and the overwhelming desire to strain themselves until the familiar throe of pain can ground him back to normality. He'll only be there a couple of days...he'll be fine, he'll be fine...nothing bad will happen...

His eyelids feel heavy then, tired and dragged down by a leaden fatigue despite how well he'd already slept, mouth parted just slightly open as he eventually lets them fall shut, thoughts winding down to a slow, muted buzz that aches against his skull in a strangely comforting manner...he'll dissect his drooping bones and fluttery heart later...limbs for once falling victim to the dreamless repose of a warm, embracing bed, the familiar smell imprinted upon the sheets like soft exhales to gently render him wobbly and untied.

A small glimpse of a shapeless freedom, its loosened grips and blunted edges like a thick sheet of veil to caress him with, gentle and forgiving.

 

-

 

Over the course of his time spent entangled in satin and undeserving strips of moonlight, Hyunjin comes to learn that there are different types of feed for a prowling cat like him, moving, muscled animals ready to strike at any second, their bared teeth never a telltale sign of whether they slink into his untethered night as predator or prey.

In a way he thinks they're all the same, molded and honed at least, by the same unforgiving hands that pluck and pluck and pluck away at their rickety core as if simply playing a game.

They don't notice it the way he does, of course they don't, their minds clouded and painted instead by the numbing guise of a mere animalistic desire, clawing and clawing and clawing their way straight into his marrow until their talons begin to draw small honeylike drops of blood.

They can't see the way their eyes dim just a little with each passing visit, the way their voices coarsen and become matted and dull over time, any remnants of life and vigor sapping away as they slaughter themselves to sin.

No, they can't see it the way he does, how the need for feeling, for emotion, for any semblance of adrenaline comes out only in the fragments of having their way with him, taking as they please, in control and selfish for once without apologizing, without feeling that weighted dread of shame to drag them back down again.

Inside of him, their eyes buzz with electricity once more, their throats leaking and trickling with moans unrestrained. In the warped, ill-fated lapse of time before and after their meal, there's nothing - only a lifeless, unfeeling stretch of space. Like murder, he thinks, although he isn't quite sure who it is that's committed it.

After all, he keeps his little revelations to himself. None of them listen to him anyway, none of them let their tongues drain themselves of a godless truth. It's always easier to believe in lies, he supposes. Something that doesn't hurt as much.

Hyunjin doesn't care why they're there, not really, not when their mouths all spew the same falsehoods anyway, that never-ending herd of sharpened souls chipping away silently each night. They simply want to see him, they want company, closeness, the unruly facade of affection. Lies, lies, lies. Maybe not by all, maybe not by those who simply sit upon the edge of the bed and talk until their throats clog up, but by most.

Hyunjin almost prefers the men who never come in disguised in sheep's clothing, who tell him exactly what they're thinking, exactly what they truly, unequivocally feel in the deepest remnants of their tattered souls. No baby, no darling, no doll - only sick, jabbing punches to bruise him with.

At least they have the courage, he thinks, to be truthful with him. Perhaps 'courage' is the wrong word. Shamelessness, dishonor even. He isn't one to judge, not when his own body has become far more slaughtered than theirs.

He's good at adapting, good at figuring out what they want, how to twist and contort himself into pearls of their little lies, to satisfy the aching woe within. At least for a moment, for a short, sweet hollow of time he's becoming increasingly unsure of whether is real or not.

He thinks they're easy enough to categorize by now, to recognize within the first few minutes, all the same, all the same. Most of them are unremarkable, driven by the human greed for lust and the small facade of power they manage to convince themselves they have, wanting him to be pretty, pliable, obedient. To praise them, stroke their ego, make them feel special, important even.

Hyunjin never thinks of them afterward, their predictability dull and tedious and far too easy to spin around with the tip of his finger.

Then there are the nervous, the first-timers wracked in guilt and shame and yet committing to their vices all the same and so even though he almost pities them at first, they way they sit there not knowing what to do, he feels nothing by the time they've finished. They want him nice and gentle and to slowly coax them into control as if needing his permission before they finally commit to the kill.

Cradled and nursed to a feeling of righteousness from their own apparent guilt, they always come back a little harsher, a little crueler than the way they'd left, convincing themselves that their shame will somehow make the way they slaughter him any less bloody. Hyunjin will let them believe what they want, in the end he knows it won't make any difference anyway.

Then there are those who surprisingly don't touch him at all. There aren't many of them, their visits a bejeweled little rarity he treasures each time they happen to stumble upon his door, their chests so deeply rifted and carved out to a hollow pit that all they crave is conversation, the appearance of care, the lie of love.

Hyunjin thinks it's ridiculous almost, to think that he of all people could give something that would resemble any of the such and yet they're his favorite, he thinks, until they eventually give in and become just another face in the herd, another predator in the unruly bushes of the jungle.

He cherishes the moments while they last, lets himself believe in those short, precious seconds the little illusion they create, the way they veil themselves in plain discussions and questions as if desperate, dangling for an answer. How was his day, what is he like, what's his favorite color - Hyunjin doesn't care how boring the conversations become, he leans into them all the same.

They'll never truly care to the point of it becoming something real anyway, so he lies for fun, tells them things they want to hear, reinvents himself visit after visit. It's like a game, he thinks, but games are only fun in the beginning when there isn't a winner and in the end there's always a winner, their eventual absence like a sharp yet predictable gash of betrayal. It isn't him.

Then there are the truth-tellers, those who never lie about why they crawl their way into his sheets, those unabashed in their own hatred toward him, yes how they despise him, how they loathe and detest him, him the bottom of the barrel, the shining grit of all sin, the epitome of everything wrong in this world, yes, the lowest of the low.

Maybe he could admire them even, the way they never bother to entertain him with the deception of gentle touches and the minimum afterthought of human care, how they go straight for his throat, for his brain, for his dirty, tattered soul - yes maybe he'd even appreciate it if it didn't hurt so much, if his ribs did not ache each time he's flung into the wall, if his teeth did not chatter from the intrusion of plunging right into him with no preparation, if his eyes did not become spotty and littered with a white haze as their hands squeeze and squeeze and squeeze around his throat.

In the end, he deserves it. That's what they say, what they always say, their tongues dripping from disdain and disgust. He's a whore, after all. Hyunjin knows that he is and yet the word aches just as much every time.

Luckily for him, he knows exactly how to numb himself to their anger and revulsion by now, as long as Ophelia monitors his dosage, he gets away with the tasteless necessity of pills and powder. He'll take anything, really, but he manages coke the best.

At least according to Ophelia, he does. Hyunjin doesn't question her, he never does anymore. He'll do anything to desensitize himself to every lie, lie, lie thrust his way, all the same, all the same, all the same - until they aren't.

At first, Carlos is nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would ever make him think twice or have his mind scrambling for what to do. He's crude, rough and horrible - just like the rest, but he's never violent or degrading in the way that some of them are, that have him seconds away from pathetic, worn out tears or immediately on guard at the sneaking of their presence.

In short, he's unremarkable. Hyunjin never thinks of him, not really, not until he asks him one day, something no one has asked him to do. Dance for him.

He'd blinked then, caught off guard. Hyunjin has had many strange requests - do this and that, call me this, pretend you're this, be mean, be good, be everything you're not and everything you are. He'd done stripteases even, small, sensual twists of his body but no, that wasn't what Carlos meant.

An actual dance, something to captivate him with, something to marvel at. Well, Hyunjin has always been good at putting on a show, even without his flowy pants or clinking, rhythmic tambourine.

In the end he can't tell whether Carlos is impressed by his actual dancing or his body and face - such a simple assurance given to him since birth that always ends up dragging him down rather than up, at least until now. Maybe this little gift he's taken for granted will finally amount to something, will pull him out of the rotten crow's nest he's made a home in.

He can work for him, Carlos tells him. At his strip club. His dancing is good enough, but the others will teach him how to properly strip. Besides, Carlos says, no one will be paying much attention to his pole-spinning anyway. Not when he looks like that. A strange compliment, one he locks away in his brain for later.

He's unsure then, of what to do, of whether or not to put his fate in this stranger's grimy, grabby hands, knowing full well the lengths some of his clients go just to spit their own hatred right in his face.

Then, because Carlos as it turns out, is fully serious and is already making plans on whisking him away, Hyunjin realizes that the longer he thinks of it, the more plausible it becomes that perhaps he'll be running straight into his own demise instead. Humiliation, violence, human trafficking, murder even.

The appearance of fear only strikes him for a second, once it dawns on him that really, the prospect of murder is only terrifying if one actually yearns to live, to expand their stretching days upon the muddied horizon even further.

There are worse things than death, he supposes, things that would probably horrify him if he lets them graze their whispering taunts against his head. He knows, knows because he stains himself with them every night. He says yes then, far too easily, far too quickly for his mind to truly register it.

It doesn't matter if his mind agrees or not, he thinks. The steady, slowing rhythm of his heart already does.

 

-

 

It isn't until the loud thud of a door shutting somehow reverberates through his bones that Hyunjin finally jolts awake, eyes spotted and dizzy as he stares blankly upon the teal-hued wall right before him, the recognition of where he is slow and sluggish as it trickles its way into his brain.

Languidly rubbing away the remnants of sleep in his eyes, Hyunjin makes his way skittishly out of the bed, almost as if afraid of being caught doing something he shouldn't. No, that's ridiculous he thinks, he'd merely fallen victim to an almost sleepless week, the sun from outside the window burning a deep, sturdy orange color like peels of a tangerine unraveling right down upon the city below.

Changbin must be back then, with Jia no doubt, the soft sound of excited chatters resounding faintly from outside the bedroom door, a sharp string of laughter breezing gently throughout the apartment.

With a stomach in knots and fingers oddly numb, Hyunjin takes a deep breath, smoothening out his slightly rumpled appearance in the mirror by Changbin's wardrobe before pulling on the doorhandle and opening it slowly.

Once he reaches the homey burrow of the kitchen outpouring from the living room, he spots the exuberant limbs of Jia flailing around with something fond plunging in his chest, her arms stretching wide and energetically, clearly submerged in the retelling of some story as Changbin peers down at her with wide, interested eyes, fully immersed.

Changbin's gaze flicks up toward him for the briefest of seconds once he notices his presence emerging in the kitchen, his grin widening as Jia seemingly notices the momentary halt in his attention upon her, her small body spinning around to look at him as her mouth stretches into a smile uncannily similar to her father's.

"Hello!" She skips over to him, dark hair tossing around from the liveliness with which she moves, feet once again conspicuously clad in the bright red rainboots she'd worn the last time he saw her.

"Hi," Hyunjin says, the word coming out more nervous than he'd liked, her eyes wide and expectant as she peers up at him, Changbin setting down her backpack upon a chair as he opens it and takes out her lunchbox.

"Daddy said you were sick and that's why you'll be staying for a few days." Jia grins, far too excited at the prospect of him being sick as Changbin laughs softly from behind the kitchen counter, opening the empty lunchbox and rinsing it beneath the sink.

"Injured," he corrects, Jia nodding as if not really listening at all, eyes still eager and waiting as they bore straight into him.

"Yeah, my leg..." Hyunjin starts, trying his best to emit a smile that doesn't appear as anxious as he feels, "I hope that's okay."

Jia's grin broadens even more, the words tumbling out of her faster than she can manage to speak them, eyes alight in enthusiasm. "That means we can have sleepovers and we can eat popcorn and watch movies and eat ice cream and play games and read stories-"

"Jia, breathe," Changbin laughs, Jia slowing down to cast a glance his way before taking a deep breath, the small sea otter patch glinting beneath the kitchen light from where it's sewn upon her denim jacket.

"So I can show you my toys?!" Eyes wide and expectant, she turns back to peer up at him, Hyunjin nodding after a few beats of a bewildered silence, movements slow and uncertain as if hesitant of fully committing to it.

Jia smiles contentedly before kicking off her boots, snatching his hand in hers and promptly leading the way, Hyunjin's mind seizing itself in an instant panic at the amount of unseen germs undoubtedly filtering their way into his skin and oh God, oh God, he'll definitely have to wash his hands an excessive amount of time after this, who knows what she's touched during kindergarten of all places, there could even be potential illnesses just waiting to throttle him and-

"This is my room," Jia grins, his mind slowing down to an abrupt halt at the dark navy painted door in front of him, Jia's name hung in large blocked, white letters with an intricately drawn crest adorning it, the precise attention to detail so impressive in fact that his jumbled thoughts and panic-rattled chest fizzle into a murky haze waiting for its turn to come back again once more.

The majestic door is, as it turns out, nothing compared to what lies behind on its other side, Hyunjin's jaw dropping the moment she turns the handle and leads him into her bedroom, Changbin following close behind as Jia lets go of his hand and happily skips over to a storage organizer with wooden frames shaped like a staircase, rummaging excitedly through the plastic boxes slid into them, stuffed to the brim with what Hyunjin assumes to be her toys.

On top of each wooden shelf is a different stuffed animal, all of them perched brightly and neatly as their beady eyes stare right into him - an octopus, a beluga whale and a dolphin.

It becomes clear right away what the motive behind Jia's room is, though the ocean-themed teddy bears are hardly the only indicator, the walls a light, inviting blue as meticulously painted corals and sea plants emerge from the floor and twist themselves prettily upward, various animals scattered all over as they swim contentedly along to the breathtaking illusion of being submerged underwater.

Hyunjin's eyes flit around rapidly, trying desperately to catch every single, carefully planned detail of Jia's room, mouthing parting open in astonishment once he cranes his neck upward and spots the floating, fluttery strings of colorful, plush jellyfish hanging from the ceiling, their flaring tentacles like cascading strands of vivid flowers, pink, purple, blue - each color casting shimmers upon the floor from where the light outside reflects upon them.

"Wow..." He breathes out, chest filling with a strange, almost ballooned feeling he doesn't quite know how to digest. "You really love the ocean, huh?"

Jia nods vigorously from where she seems to have stopped filtering through her toys to look back up at him, seemingly satisfied from his own amazement as she grins excitedly. "Yep! I'm gonna be a marine brolologist when I grow up."

"Biologist," Changbin corrects, a fond smile on his face as Hyunjin glances between him and Jia, small rises of laughter emitting from his throat as Jia tries to correct her pronunciation, mouth moving dramatically as she tries to form the word.

It's cute, he thinks, and entirely too endearing, her pink, fuzzy socks squeaking across the floor as she rocks back and forth, a green sea turtle conspicuously smiling at him from the fabric.

Hyunjin turns back to Changbin, eyes pooling with amazement and an unnerving sense of warmth flooding through his stomach. "Did you paint the walls?"

"Yeah." Changbin grins, gaze flickering quickly to look at them before settling contentedly back upon him. "Me, Chan and Jisung. It took a whole week."

The unfamiliar, strange sensation from before strikes him once again, something sad and yet oddly serene billowing through his chest as he turns to glance at the intricately designed walls once more, colorful fish milling about amongst a grove of twisting corals.

It isn't uncomfortable he thinks, mostly just melancholic, tinged with small seeds of a bitterness he never quite knows what to do with and enveloped in a foreign, nearly numbing sense of grief - and yet Hyunjin isn't sure what there truly is to mourn.

Barren of any childhood tokens except for Bunny, his own bedroom had really only carried within it the repulsive smell of something rotten, clusters of mold and dusty cobwebs upon the corners, the wood dark and plain and all the more reason for him to become that shameful bejeweled grit of a diamond to make it special.

"It's beautiful," he exhales, eyes shimmering with echoes he hopes Changbin won't understand, throat trying desperately to swallow the sorrow numbing his limbs, replacing it instead with a fond, appreciative surge of affection.

There's something warm yet sharp in knowing that the way of life is not as he knows it, for most people at least, for those unbound by a sour, crumbling birth, Jia's radiance like dewdrops upon a freshly bloomed, white summer lily. She deserves nothing less, he thinks, her room a beacon in which to grow upon untroubled and with shine.

Before Changbin gets the chance to say anything however, Jia tugs at his hand once more, clearly eager to capture his attention as he turns his gaze back down toward her buzzing limbs, an array of toys now haphazardly jumbled all across the floor as she leans down and picks one up.

Hyunjin can't help but reflect the grin she sports as she thrust a very mellow, non-threatening looking shark plushie straight in his face, her voice oddly assertive and firm as she speaks. "This is Mr. Shark, but he's a nice shark and he doesn't eat the other sea animals or anything. He's a vegetrarian."

Hyunjin laughs at that, not really knowing what to say as she promptly drops Mr. Shark back upon the floor and holds up the next one, introducing each toy as if a very determined saleswoman showing off her stock, his head nodding up in down as he listens intently.

"This is Edgar." Hyunjin stares at the shiny plastic eyes of an otter plushie far too cute to be named something like Edgar, lips quirking upward as he tries not to laugh. Jia continues determinedly. "He loves brushing his fur and eating kelp and he even makes kelp ice cream for his wife."

He raises his eyebrow in amusement at that. "Oh he's married?"

Jia nods seriously, expression far too grave. "Yes, but she's shy so she doesn't come out of their house."

"Oh," is all manages to say before Jia drops Edgar back down again and picks up the pink octopus already perched upon the shelf right behind her, a purple bow sewn endearingly onto her head. "This is Daisy, she's a dancer like you and me but she has eight legs! So she can dance different dances all at the same time. So she's very famous of course."

"Of course," he repeats, mimicking her graveness as she puts Daisy back to her place, continuing with a rapid speed as she introduces each toy.

Hyunjin meets them all - Ernie the Beluga Whale who sadly suffers from lactose intolerance despite the very discernible fact that there is no lactose in the ocean, Bella the Dolphin who's apparently a bit of what sounds like a kleptomaniac, a hoard of small plastic fish all in different species with a very intricate, very strange friendship dynamic he thinks is concerningly similar to some sort of crime ring and approximately six Barbie dolls all with extremely extensive backstories and hobbies except for the one male whose only knowledge she really cared to divulge was the fact that he was "the boy."

Hyunjin laughs at that, Jia clearly not very enthusiastic over the Ken until she excitedly fishes forward the last doll, a mermaid Barbie with a little tiara perched upon her head, the memory striking him immediately as he remembers the mermaid princess she'd talked about.

"And this," she announces excitedly, "is you! Well actually her name is Luna but she looks like you, see?"

Hyunjin only stares at the doll with a bewildered look, nudging Changbin discreetly in the ribs as he starts laughing, the Barbie very clearly Asian and with black hair that goes just past her shoulders, a little longer than his own. Really, it's the only resemblance he can find although Jia seems convinced in her own discovery, so he nods along in agreement at her grinning face.

"It looks more like you, don't you think?" He asks after a few seconds to which Jia very pointedly shakes her head and groans so loudly he almost flinches from the shock. Changbin starts laughing again.

"No, I don't want to be a mermaid princess!" She yells exasperatedly although it's clear she isn't actually irritated, lips slipping into a grin as she stares back at him with wide eyes.

"I want to be a jellyfish," she announces, pronouncing the word slowly and clearly as if he has no idea what a jellyfish is, Hyunjin biting back a laugh as he nods earnestly in response. What a strange thing to want to be...

"Why?" He smiles, her exuding joy entirely too infectious.

"I want to float around and sting people." Jia grins, voice merry and nonchalant as if there's nothing more to it, sitting down on the floor as she starts pulling out a plastic toy car and placing her dolls in it, staring up at him expectantly as if waiting for him to sit down as well. Hyunjin's body seizes in panic immediately.

"Jia, you can play later, let's eat dinner now, yeah?" Changbin says, a lifesaver really as relief floods him, Jia pouting up at the two of them with wide, pleading eyes. Changbin only shakes his head, clearly far too used to her antics which thank God, Hyunjin thinks, because she probably could have manipulated him way too easily with that look.

Jia only huffs in defeat as she dramatically flings herself on the floor, Changbin rolling his eyes as he laughs. "Guess what's for dinner?"

"It better not be soup again!" She groans, Changbin's body tensing up in incredulity as if bewildered.

"You used to love soup, I don't understand what's happened!"

"It's yucky," Jia grimaces, crossing her arms discontentedly. "It looks like vomit!"

"We ate soup three days ago and you liked it!"

Hyunjin only watches the two of them bicker back and forth as if observing some tennis match with wide eyes, Jia insisting with an increasingly upset tone that she absolutely did not, Changbin rendered a mixture of confused and frustrated before he crouches down to level with her. "Okay, this is ridiculous. We're not even eating soup."

"Then what is it?" Jia sulks, tone hostile and angry as she speaks and for a moment he wants to run away, feeling as if he really shouldn't be watching something as vulnerable and intimate as this at all, only standing awkwardly by the doorway entirely unclear in what to do.

Well, it isn't his child so he supposes he shouldn't really do anything and besides, it seems as if Changbin knows how to handle the situation. Especially with the promise of sushi to which Jia positively lights up and stops whining, rolling off the floor with the ghost of a smile upon her face as if still not sure whether or not to commit to it.

Hyunjin walks back toward the kitchen as soon as Jia skips out of the room, Changbin instructing her to wash her hands as she steps up on a little stool by the sink and starts to scrub, Hyunjin watching in silence as Changbin sets the table and finds the leftovers from the night before.

Noticing his hesitancy, Changbin sends him a gentle smile from across the table. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says because strangely enough, he is, stomach oddly untied with the knots that had wrung him from before. "Is Jia though?"

"Huh?" Changbin seems momentarily confused by the question, casting a glance over to where Jia is drying off her hands before seemingly understanding what he's referring to, laughing slightly. "Oh that? Yeah she's just dramatic sometimes." He shrugs, as if far too used to it. "Kids are like that, I don't know. Jia maybe more than some but...usually she never stays upset for long."

Hyunjin nods as Jia reappears back by the table and sits down eagerly, legs swinging wildly back and forth in eager anticipation. Smiling, he washes his own hands thoroughly before he joins them, the reminder of the germs from earlier grating against his skull, his fingers digging into his hands harsher than usual. It's okay, he thinks, everything had been fine until now, there's no reason dinner wouldn't be as well...

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he sits down on the chair by the table gingerly, apprehensive at first of using the utensils placed before him, the leftover food from yesterday already taken out of its container and arranged neatly in circles.

Jia, already having started picking up bites of sushi and stuffing them in her mouth, only stares at him strangely from across the table. "Aren't you gonna eat?" She asks, the words muffled from the amount of food in her mouth.

"Jia, don't talk with food in your mouth," Changbin says, sending her a mildly stern look before glancing at him worriedly as if sensing his distress.

Hyunjin only gives him a tight smile, stomach simmering with nerves as his chest begins to tighten, the prospect of touching silverware he specifically hasn't washed far too daunting as he sits there frozen in anxiety. This is fucking ridiculous...it was fine that morning...

"But he's not eating," Jia says after finally having swallowed the food, casting a slightly troubled look Changbin's way before landing back upon him. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Jia-"

"Yes, I'm hungry," he says, laughing nervously as he pinches his thigh before picking up the utensils and taking small fidgety bites of the food. Changbin still sends him a concerned look but Hyunjin forces forward a smile as he waves it off.

Jia seems happy enough, munching satisfied as she tilts her head back and forth, humming some song he can't recognize while continuing to eat.

"So how was your day?" Changbin asks as Jia exhales loudly before recounting everything she'd done at kindergarten, face growing increasingly expressive once she reaches the part of something a very annoying boy named Connor had done to which she had deservedly called him a blobfish because apparently he looked like one, Hyunjin listening intently, far too invested in the kindergarten drama than he'd like to admit.

"But he didn't even know what a blobfish looks like!" Jia whines exasperatedly, shaking her in disbelief. "So he didn't get upset, so I told him that it was very ugly and weird and then he started crying."

Changbin frowns at that. "Jia, that's not very nice."

"He started it!" Jia's eyes widen at that, turning to look at him as if hoping for him to agree that her comment was absolutely justified. Hyunjin only blinks rapidly, caught off guard before Jia turns back to Changbin invigorated. "He was talking to me while I was reading and everybody knows you have to be quiet when you're reading! But then I felt bad when he started crying so I made him a drawing."

"Well, I'm glad." Changbin smiles, eyes softening immediately. "That was nice of you."

"I know. He liked it," Jia says, apparently happy that her father seems to think so.

"And didn't that make you feel good?"

"No!" Jia bursts out, Hyunjin stifling a laugh from the wide, almost indignant expression in her eyes. Changbin only looks at her perplexed, his question seemingly not having gone the way he'd hoped.

"It was my best drawing ever and I had to give it to him!" She huffs, grumbling beneath her breath. "Being nice is annoying."

Hyunjin does laugh at that, quietly and behind his hand as Changbin only stares at her in disbelief, sharing a pained look with him as if wondering what to do. "What did you draw?" Hyunjin asks, amused then.

Jia smiles mischievously, small grin threatening to spill all across her face before she finally admits, "A blobfish."

Hyunjin snickers as Jia starts laughing, Changbin sighing deeply in what he assumes to be somewhere between the lines of incredulity and humor. Jia leans in across the table then, face alit with something eager and secretive as she whispers directly to him. "Did you know that boy seahorses can get pregnant?"

Hyunjin almost does a double take from how quickly the conversation topic had shifted, Jia cackling maniacally as if absolutely floored by such a fact.

"She seems to think that's hilarious for some reason," Changbin says, eyes brimming with amusement as Hyunjin starts laughing as well. "I get it," he says, lips quirking upward. "It's pretty funny."

"And did you know lobsters pee out of their face!" Jia asks, voice loud and littered with laughter as she doubles over, food entirely forgotten at this point.

"No I did not." Hyunjin smiles, snickering quietly behind his hand as Changbin gives them both looks of disbelief, astonished by their shared crude humor, groaning in exasperation.

"It took me months to get her to stop talking about poop and pee while eating!"

"Months?!" Hyunjin laughs, eyes widening as Jia continues to cackle.

"Yes because Jisung kept encouraging her!" Changbin huffs out, grimacing as if both pained and amused. "He even helped her put saran wrap on the toilet!"

"Uncle Jisung is the funniest," Jia giggles, entire body wracked in laughter.

"That was not funny," Changbin grumbles, Hyunjin shuddering just thinking up about it, face scrunched up in a humorous disgust.

"Can we please talk about something else?" Changbin sends a pleading look Jia's way once her snickers finally calm down, her eyes glimmering with the same playful glint as before as she eventually nods, taking a few more bites of her food before turning back to look at her father.

"Can we watch a movie pleaseee?" Her eyes practically bulge in a hopeful desperation then, body buzzing from potential excitement. "Since it's a sleepover!"

Changbin turns to him then, eyes questioning as if asking him if it's okay, Hyunjin only blinking for a few seconds before nodding, Jia grinning at him brightly in return.

"Alright, but we should start it now then," Changbin says, smiling gently. "Take your plate up and put on your pajamas, okay?"

Jia nods eagerly as she promptly carries her empty plate over toward the kitchen counter before scurrying off to her bedroom, yelling something about making popcorn as the door slams shut.

Changbin looks at him once more as he starts cleaning up the table, Hyunjin standing up and copying his movements. "Are you sure it's okay? You can say no if it's too much...really, I get it."

"No it's fine," he breathes out, unable to stop the smile that spills across his face. "Besides, I don't want Jia to call me a blobfish."

Changbin grins, shaking his head. "Impossible. Someone would have to be blind to call you that."

Hyunjin only bites his lip, watching as Changbin turns back to loading the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaning up the table, sending him small, playful glances every now and then.

Something balmy and soothing unfurls within his chest, eyes soaking in each curve and slope of his face as if not having memorized them by now already, limbs light and fluttery as Changbin starts preparing the popcorn, each grin he sends his way like a pleasant, curling punch to the gut he can't help but welcome all too willingly.

Jia returns after a while clad in a matching set of white and blue pajama pants and shirt, small baby dolphins and pink starfish scattered all across the fabric as she skips her way into the living room, dragging a large pillow behind her.

Hyunjin watches entertained as she starts placing the pillows from the couch onto the floor in front of the TV, carefully arranging them before turning back to look at him as she enthusiastically beckons him over.

"Quick!" She whispers once he's attentively sat down on one of the pillows, her small arms reaching swiftly for the remote control. "We have to pick a movie before Daddy gets here!"

"Okay," he whispers along, eyes flitting back and forth from the TV to Jia's thoughtful face, her gaze lingering long and hard on each movie that flickers across the screen. Suddenly she turns to him, laughing mischievously. "Do you want to see a movie that always makes Daddy cry?"

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at that, glancing over to the kitchen where Changbin is neatly arranging three bowls of popcorn, unable to quench his curiosity. "Oh? Which one?"

Jia points to a movie on the screen, the illuminated face of a young girl in the darkness peering at something from behind a curtain adorned by the gracefully-written words A Little Princess right beneath her. Hyunjin has no idea what the movie is about, but Jia seems eager and set on it and so he only nods with a warm, lighthearted smile.

Jia perks up then, grinning over her shoulder as she turns to look at Changbin in the kitchen. "Daddy guess what movie we chose!"

Changbin narrows his eyes as if suspicious of her teasing tone already, balancing the popcorn bowls on top of each other as he makes his way over, carefully placing them down on the floor before his eyes catch sight of the screen.

"Nooo," he groans, sitting down on the other side so Jia remains in the middle, shooting him a pained, desperate look. "Prepare to cry."

"It's not sad Daddy!" Jia shakes her head in disbelief before turning to Hyunjin with an adamant glint in her eyes, clearly trying to convince him that it is in fact not sad and that they most definitely should watch it.

She presses play before anyone can stop her, Changbin groaning in defeat as she jumps up and quickly runs to turn off the light, sending him a satisfied smile as she sits back down again.

Hyunjin grins back at her, knees drawn to his chest as he nibbles quietly on the popcorn, the movie unfolding before him as Jia sighs in contentedness. The story is strangely moving, he thinks, a young girl captivating all the other girls at the boarding school she's been sent to by telling them stories in secret during the night, each and every face enraptured and enthralled by the charm of her fantasies, her imagination childlike and joyous in all the right ways.

He sneaks quick glances at both Jia and Changbin every now and then, Changbin frowning as if thinking things he probably shouldn't. Hyunjin gets it, the movie is quite clearly a father-daughter tale that becomes disrupted once the father is drafted to war and the girl is sent to live at the boarding school where she quickly becomes mistreated by the headmistress, whom much to an uncomfortable feeling settling in his gut, reminds him more and more of his own mother each time she speaks.

Hyunjin's lower lip wobbles eventually as the story unravels, something hot and heavy lodged in his throat as he tries desperately not to cry, regret seeping into him already at having agreed to such a movie.

Jia was right, it hadn't been...sad exactly, just far more emotional and moving than he'd foreseen. A sharp sniffle momentarily diverts his attention from the screen, Jia weeping silently from where she's crawled into her father's lap, face burrowed into his chest as Changbin cradles her head gently, his own eyes blinking rapidly to hold back his tears.

Jia clutches onto the fabric of his shirt in comfort before Changbin kisses the top of her head, the hold around her tightening protectively as he whispers something in her ear.

Hyunjin can only stare really, chest tightening and yet unwinding all the same, overcome by a hoard of feelings he doesn't particularly want to start picking apart and examining, flutters and ripples of contradictions surging within him as he bites down on his lip.

Above all he feels grateful, he thinks, being able to witness something so woven in purity and that simple form of love, the bumbling core of his nimble body undeserving, longing, deluded even. Sick maybe, in the sudden realization of plain and obvious yearning that strikes him.

Of course he'd known, had known for far longer than he'd ever wanted to admit it and yet here in the dimly illuminated pearls of darkness, in the ache of the rift in his chest digging itself deeper and deeper as he continues to stare, he thinks of one thing and one thing only, stomach caving in and flaring in an addicting, sweetened pain he longs to feel again and again and again.

Somewhere within him, somewhere that spreads itself thin and yet ever-knowing all around him, he wants this. Itches for it, yearns for it, bleeds himself dry in his inability to get it day after day.

He doesn't know what 'it' is, not really, only the feeling it brings, that gentle, steady flutter that reverberates within him, mind at ease, limbs weightless yet grounded, tethered to an earth that's anything but muddied.

Eventually the movie comes to an end, the soft sound of Jia's yawn accompanying it as if the final touch to the score as Changbin carefully helps her up, her hands rubbing furiously at the sleep clouding her eyes.

Hyunjin stares once more, sometimes it feels like it's the only thing he can do - watch, watch, watch from the outside, never to be let in. But he has been let in, feet folded upon the worn-out plushness of homey pillows and blankets, a little nest built out of nothing but a comforting need for a place to land.

He swallows, feet light and tingly as he stands up and starts walking toward Changbin's bedroom once he tells him that he'll be right there, that he's just going to get Jia to bed. Jia bids him a sleepy sounding goodnight as the two of them walk into the bathroom, getting ready to brush her teeth no doubt.

As soon as the door to Changbin's bedroom closes behind him, he takes several slow, deep breaths, trying to figure out whether the lack of panic brewing inside of him is unsettling or not. He shouldn't dwell on it, he decides, not now, not here, not when he's only supposed to be here for a couple of days anyway.

Because of his leg, nothing more. Wait- yes, there could be something more, Changbin's words from yesterday echoing throughout his mind as he lets them swivel and ruminate inside of his chest. He likes him, he likes him, he'd told him plenty of times already and yet- Hyunjin exhales shakily, fingers quivering as he gently starts to strip.

It's too early to go to bed, the clock not even close to 3AM and yet he'd fallen asleep before that cursed number the night before, had been too exhausted, too lulled by the illusion of comfort from the time he'd spent with Changbin to even let it cross his mind.

Illusion? No, that isn't fair. It had been real, he's certain of that, too real, too real. His chest bristles then, a great, cavernous ache rising within him, the need, the yearning for a man he's already let chip his way far too deep into his mind seizing every muscle and limb still intact to his somehow frayed and withering body.

Too doused in a scalding desire, Hyunjin doesn't care if the way he sensually slips on a black satin camisole and tiny shorts hemmed with embroidered lace is pathetic, desperate even as he carefully smoothens out his appearance in the mirror, deciding somewhere along the slowly unfolding night that if he can't have Changbin the one way, he'll have him the other.

Even with the gauze wrapped around his thigh he looks bewitching, he thinks, Changbin's eyes widening immediately as soon as he opens the door and slinks into the room, gaze flitting up and down as his eyebrow raises and lips form into a charming, knowing grin. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"These are the only pajamas I have," Hyunjin pouts, an obvious lie as he prowls his way over and drags his hands up Changbin's chest, looping them around his neck as he feels a firm grip clutch at his waist.

"Oh really?" He laughs softly, eyes crinkling before playing along teasingly. "How sad. I guess that must mean you're pretty fond of them, huh?"

Hyunjin nods solemnly then, gaze glinting magnetically as he tries not to smile. "Mmh, it would be devastating if they were to rip."

"Yes it would..." Changbin says, trailing off as he pointedly checks him out, fingers toying with the top fold of his shorts, subtly pressing him even closer against him. Hyunjin's stomach burns deliciously. "Criminal even, when you look so good in them."

He smirks, tilting his head before pouting once more. "I'd be so sad I'd refuse to wear anything for days."

"Oh no." Changbin feigns a sense of sympathy, the way his eyes glimmer betraying him instantly. "That would be horrible. You'd need someone to keep you warm then." His hands tighten for a second, guiding him backward toward the bed slowly, Hyunjin biting his lip as he nods earnestly, grin threatening to break across his face as he tries to stay in character.

Walking backward, Hyunjin's foot accidentally hits a small bag he hadn't seen behind him, body losing its balance and stumbling as Changbin quickly catches him, an amused, playful smile painted upon his lips.

Hyunjin grins back, his eyes scanning over his face with the steady increase of his heart, his gaze flickering for an instant down to the knocked over bag, its contents spilled across the floor.

There isn't much, only a couple of notebooks he assumes would be filled to the brim with tattoo illustrations, a dark hoodie and something he can't really recognize, gray, small and velvety with a stupid little ribbon around its tail and wait-

Hyunjin's heart stops.

There, nestled in the bundles of items he wouldn't once have thought to look over twice, lies the frail and resting body of someone he'd once called his friend, its limbs just as soft, just as gentle as the unfurling strips of syrup running down his mind, head slow and hazy and overcome by the faintest trail of the perfumed scent of nostalgia, for once not putrid or unpleasant as it filters into his skull.

Crouching down with his mouth parted open, he touches the rounded belly of Bunny as delicately as he can, fingers careful and light once they finally wrap around him, his small black, beady eyes staring into him just as warmly, just as kindly as he'd remembered. Yes, it was Bunny, it was Bunny he was sure of it, he would recognize that silvery, mellow patch of cotton anywhere, but how...

"What's this?" He turns his head up to Changbin then, voice quiet and littered with echoes of emotions he has yet to try and grasp, eyes wide and beginning to itch as he stares.

Changbin swallows for a second, biting his lip harshly as if overcome by a sudden cluster of nerves, clearly not having expected for Hyunjin to find the teddy like this. No, 'teddy' would be too simple of a word - friend, lifeline, a tiny shred of existence untainted.

"It's um...well, I just thought you might like it," he says, eyes ingrained upon his as Hyunjin stands back, Bunny safe and protected in his hold as he all but stares, forehead creased and chest inflating. "I don't know, it's stupid-"

"You got me Bunny?" The words waiver as they fall out of him in breathless, disbelieving whispers, eyes pearly white and glistening he thinks, from the pools of tears desperate to spill.

"Yeah," Changbin breathes out, eyebrows furrowing as if still bound by uncertainty, gaze flickering all around his face, yearning no doubt, to burrow himself into the nooks of his brain in a searing attempt at understanding. It would be impossible, Hyunjin discerns, when even he himself is always one step behind. "I know it's not the original or anything, but...it matched your description."

"Where did you-" Something strangled and dense lodges itself in his throat, eyes blinking rapidly so as not to overflow as he swallows harshly. Everything's too much, too much, too much, the confusion, the shock, the sudden twisting of his mind as it was wrung onto a different path with there mere clutch of a soft, carefully-seamed children's toy.

He doesn't care, he thinks, if there was ever anything else to occupy him with. How could any of that matter, how could anything amount to the crushing relief surging through his limbs as he stands there idle and watery, Bunny safely back in his arms. "Why did you...how did you find this?"

"It was nothing really." Changbin smiles then, finally, finally, his mouth curving upward into that soft, gentle tilt that always soothes the bursting ache in his bones. Hyunjin's lower lip wobbles, hands tightening around Bunny's body, pressing him close and hard against his chest. "I just searched for French vintage stores in the area and checked to see...I found this one in California, it's the same right? It had the little bow and everything."

Hyunjin blinks, mouth parting open, chest rippling with continues waves of disbelief. He doesn't think he's ever been this overwhelmed and yet calm at the same time, something terrifying and addicting and so so good melting in his stomach.

"You drove all the way to California?" It had been thawing for a while now, the final ice chipped away just moments ago beneath the illuminated light of a TV screen and the dawning of thoughts too unearthly for him to grip onto, fingers slippery and muddied from years and years of pulling at his own dirt-tattered core.

"Just across the border." Changbin says, smile slightly nervous still. "It was no big deal."

"Yes it is," Hyunjin whispers, yes it is, of course it is, eyes cast downward to glance back at Bunny, his thin little mouth curving so sweetly, so simply, nothing special really.

Bunny is nothing special, letting the light of a movie glisten across the face of someone else as he stares and stares is nothing special, eating leftovers as he hides a laugh behind his hand is certainly nothing special, common, ordinary things and precious jewels to never think twice about.

Hyunjin knows, knows that most people would only pass through time without a single thought left behind to mark it down, to anchor it to the momentary immortality of a memory.

"It was only a couple of hours," Changbin says, eyes softening around the edges. Nothing special, nothing special and yet everything, everything, everything, Hyunjin thinks. He never thought the whole world was so close to his grip, standing right in front of him, aching, begging to be explored.

He swallows again, the back of his throat swelling with a small cry, disbelief and astonishment fluttering through him in tidal waves.

"I can't believe you found this...that you got me this, I-" He stills, peeking another glance down at what had once been his best friend, his only friend, eyes brimming with tears as he turns back to Changbin, entire body seizing with emotion, with gratitude, with things he'd thought were long dead and slaughtered to rust. "Why?"

Changbin's gaze twists kindly then, as if plunged by the same overwhelming force as him, voice a mere whisper as he speaks, constellations and canyons reuniting somewhere in the distance. "I think you already know why."

Yes, Hyunjin thinks. He does. His lower lip trembles, the tears streaming gently down his face then, words shaky and scattered around the edges with what he hopes can bleed out every thank you he needs to cry to ever bring justice to such a gift. He knows there'll never be enough. "You got me Bunny."

"He seemed special to you." Changbin smiles, taking small, tentative steps toward him as he places his arms comfortingly around his shoulders. "Thought it might...make you happy."

Hyunjin sniffles, hands wiping away at his eyes as he breathes out unsteadily, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're insane, you know that? This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"That's crazy," Changbin says, fingers light and fluttery as they skim across his face, drying his tears away gently. "You deserve a hundred Bunnys, a thousand even. All in different colors."

Changbin cracks a small grin then, Hyunjin laughing weakly through his sniffles as the loud beating of his heart grows and grows and contorts itself into a roaring thunder threatening to break loose.

"I'm serious." Changbin tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, smiling still as Hyunjin exhales once more. "I'll buy you as many teddy bears as you want, I'll by them till I go broke. If it makes you happy."

"It does," he says, though he doesn't think Changbin could ever begin to understand why, to truly grasp the feeling of his frayed strings being pulled up right again, sowing needle for once not prickling as it threads right through him. "This does."

"Good." Changbin's eyes crinkle then, the loud, grating jungle of roots inside of him on the verge of spilling out, eager, aching to overflow and settle somewhere at last.

"Thank you," he whispers, small drops of tears shimmering faintly as he lets them fall. For a second he's never been more certain of anything.

"Of course." Changbin's hands slither down to his waist again, Hyunjin peering at him nervously as he lets his own fingers clutch apprehensively onto his shirt, a small search for comfort, for something to ground him with.

"I-" he pauses then, swallowing, eyes cast to the side before turning back to look at him. "I've never let anyone in before." The pit in his stomach is strangely mellow, he thinks, flooded instead by sweet, honeyed water. "I've never been close to anyone. Much less in a relationship...I don't know where to begin."

Changbin nods, rubbing soothing circles into back, eyes big and cavernous in understanding. "I know it's hard."

"Yes," he agrees, determined now, for once, for once to alleviate the ache in his bones. "It is." He'll be selfish, he decides, greedy, greedy, greedy. No, not greedy. Real.

"But...if you drove all the way to California to get me some stupid stuffed animal you don't even care about..." he pauses, words trailing into incompletion as nerves fill his chest, resolute and yet made entirely of glass, one tilt away from breaking into a million shards against the floor. He trusts that Changbin won't push him over. "Well...if there's someone worth trying for, then it's you."

Something flickers to a glistening, mesmerizing light in Changbin's eyes then, head nodding slowly as he brings his hand back to cup his jaw. "We can...we'll figure it out together, yeah?"

Hyunjin smiles weakly, sniffling still as he agrees that yes, perhaps that wouldn't be so bad. Changbin tucks another strand of his hair back then, touch gentle and comforting. Protective. Hyunjin leans into it, chest surging with emotions.

He doesn't think he's ever put this much faith into someone before. The realization is just as soothing as it is terrifying. Changbin smiles gently then, his fear dissolving into pitiful remnants of something soon to be forgotten. "And by the way I do care about Bunny. He isn't stupid. Nothing that makes you happy is stupid."

Another stream of tears come cascading down his cheeks, hands rubbing them away furiously as he mutters loudly. "Fuck you."

Changbin laughs, eyes twisting into one of bewilderment as he stares at him with wide, amused eyes. "Excuse me?"

Hyunjin grumbles, still wiping his tears away. "I said fuck you for making me cry and being all...nice and shit."

Changbin laughs again, the sound low and like consoling rumbles to weaken his bones, body slumping slightly as Changbin wraps his arms around him, Hyunjin's hands looping around his neck again as he lets himself be held, limbs swaying gently back and forth. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I can make it up to you."

His heart thumps wildly against his chest then, ridiculous maybe, for someone his age and yet it plummets all the way down to his stomach in a spinning, excited swell of fluttering wings, not realizing how starved and aching his mouth had been until Changbin's lips are upon his own, digging and diving right into his hungry, hungry soul, unearthing, uprooting him to something that burns and burns and burns in all the right places.

Hyunjin moans brokenly into the kiss, the sound like a desperate, saintly cry unbound from dirty filth and ravenous gluttony, exhaling itself like small, secret whispers of relief shared only between the two of them, his gut tingling and aching as he lets it rupture around him - his branches at last reaching out to scrape against the hollows of someone else, eager, thirsting to burrow his way into holy flesh.

Changbin leans away for just a moment, both of their chests heaving up and down as they try steady their breathing, his hands clutching his head as he holds him there, eyes pooling with a thousand things far too immeasurable to be said.

"So...does this mean you'll try?" Yearning, hope, the scattered fear of failure, the terror of success. Changbin swallows. "A relationship, like...a real one?"

Hyunjin stares at him for a few seconds, soaking in each inch and curve of his face, imprinting them within his mind so as to trace them later, though really it's no use. He's already memorized them long ago.

He nods then, a shy, almost bashful smile threatening to spill over. He doesn't care if it's invaluable, he'll draw the patterns of Changbin's face over and over again until his eyes tire and his head droops. "Yes. I'll try. I can't promise it'll be easy but...I want to try."

Changbin grins so widely then that Hyunjin hardly manages to recognize the strange, unfamiliar determination in his own voice, Changbin's body crouching quickly and suddenly as he all but lifts him up and tosses him onto the bed, his throat letting out a faint shriek from surprise.

Changbin climbs onto him immediately, bending down and littering his face with small, light kisses as Hyunjin laughs, one arm flailing wildly in the air as he tries to swat him away.

"Oh my god, stop it," he laughs, throat rising with titters as Changbin continues with a relentless speed, the kisses ticklish and fluttery as he tries to wring his body away. It's futile really, Changbin's strength far greater than his own as he can but giggle helplessly beneath his hold.

"Never." Changbin grins, pausing only for a second to speak. "This is what you signed up for now."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes playfully, his hold on Bunny faltering as he becomes submerged in laughter once more, pleading desperately with Changbin to stop until he at last shoves his stuffed animal straight in Changbin's face, Changbin halting from the momentary surprise.

"Bunny commands you to stop," he utters, voice still unstable with the echoes of laughter as he glares at him to best of his ability.

Changbin's eyebrow quirks upward before he promptly throws his hands up in surrender, rolling over the side to lie next to him. "So Bunny calls the shots, huh?"

"Yes," he giggles, patting Bunny's head lovingly before turning him back to Changbin, his cute, beady little face smiling gently as Hyunjin tries to sound serious. "Bunny is very scary. You better listen to him."

Changbin grins then, nodding in understanding. "Okay, I will. I can tell he's been through some shit. Just look at those eyes..." He shakes his head, tutting quietly as Hyunjin tries not to laugh. "Yeah, he's no stranger to gangs alright."

"Exactly," he remarks, looking at Changbin with an insistent, far too serious gaze. "So you have to do precisely what he says."

Changbin nods gravely, leaning in suddenly as if to lend Bunny an ear, eyes widening comically once he straightens back up again, turning to Hyunjin with an urgent expression. "Do you know what he just told me?"

"What?" He laughs, clutching Bunny close against his chest again.

"That you're very beautiful." He grins, Hyunjin biting back a stupid smile. "And that you have to cover his eyes."

"Why?" He narrows his eyes suspiciously, folding his hand across Bunny's face in compliance, Changbin's grin only widening.

"So I can do this," he whispers, leaning down to kiss him, Hyunjin unable to stop the stretching smile that unfurls across his lips, Changbin's mouth moving softly and gently against his own.

It's nothing special, he thinks. A simple, pure kiss, the lightest of touches, an innocent, bashful petal of the white lily, fluttering through the wind, waiting, waiting, waiting to fall, to land upon something hopefully not too rough.

No one else would think much of it. Hyunjin does, over and over and over again. He doesn't mind it this time, that three-leafed clover.

Notes:

aaand finally!!! it finally happened y’all this is turning a new page in hyunjin’s book 🥺 i hope you all liked the scene with bunny, now safely and warmly back in hyunjin’s arms💕 and interactions with jia of course 🤭 she’s a menace for sure

 

skz comeback tomorrow which also conveniently happens to be my birthday 🎉🍾 I’m so excited, i have a feeling it’s gonna be a great one!

 

see you on monday!

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 13: The Taste of Dirt

Waking up usually contains the same woven lines of withdrawing fatigue - a soft yawn, sluggish blinking of the eyes and droning, listless movements of the limbs to force his way out of slumber - nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that will leave him halting and confused before small ripples of excitement come bursting out of his chest.

Hyunjin feels the soft clutch of Bunny pressed against him before he sees it, memories of the last night boring through him as a content, enraptured smile flits across his face, his hands tightening protectively around the small animal.

A strange acceptance of happiness blooms within him then, littered with a fluttery, nervous feeling in his stomach that has him sitting up somewhat electrified, knees drawn to his chest as he balances Bunny's delicate body on top of them.

He's just as he'd remembered, bringing with him the same comfort and exhalations of relief as throughout childhood. For a second he even considers talking to him out-loud like he'd done back then, but ultimately shakes his head, deciding against it.

He should probably limit any telltale signs of craziness now that he's in a relationship...his heart freezes at the reminder, its momentary hardened state thawing away immediately as he smiles fondly, fingers tapping against his thigh in a thrum of jittery, restless nerves.

The bedside next to him remains empty and entangled, and Hyunjin lets out a small sigh as he lets his body fall down into it, breathing in the smell of familiar, calming muscles with hands clutching onto Bunny tightly as he tries to steady his mind.

The light filters gently through the windowpane, a hue of blond streaks to envelope the room, remind him that it's well past the morning now, Changbin's absence self explanatory really, although he still spots a small post-it note by the bedside drawer. Had to get Jia to kindergarten, will be back before work. I didn't want to wake you.

Hyunjin grins widely to himself at the small scribbled smiley at the bottom of the note, biting his lip for a second before promptly rushing out of bed and into the bathroom, determined to at least brush his teeth before Changbin gets the chance to come back.

In the mirror, he hardly recognizes the reflection that stares back at him, eyes glittered with tiny, erupting stars, a giddy, distorted glow that curves from his smile and all the way down to the way his feet tap impatiently against the tiles, his body humming quietly as if submerged far, far away into a dreamscape he really should pull back from before he muddies the pearliness of fragile, floating clouds.

And yet his expression buzzes with a brewing, unfolding energy tired of being restrained, teeth gnawing against his lips as if retracing the memories they carry within them. He doesn't know how long they'd kissed for after that, Bunny perched safely on the nightstand with his eyes turned away, the two of them entangled in the sheets as he fell trap to the sweet throes of addiction once more.

This addiction, he thinks, is far more dangerous, can remember still with a jarring profoundness the haze in which his head had been enfolded, mouth falling open in relieving, honeyed moans as his thighs ached deliciously - up and down, up and down, body jerking and blowing like the wind not in the semblance of showmanship, no, but pure, undistorted pleasure.

He always knew sex with Changbin had been different, no matter how much he'd pushed the thought away and let it fester into something ugly he'd refused to shine light on and yet now still, he couldn't begin to understand it, his control of that mind-fogged game ebbing away slowly and eagerly with each sacred time.

Smile lazy and satisfied he'd tumbled ungracefully back onto the bed then, for once not succumbed to the unescapable fate of heavy eyelids or a panicked need to flee, and felt no desire at all to leave the sheets, to burrow himself into the scalding water droplets of a shower and simply scrub, scrub, scrub away the stains.

Instead he'd let his tongue fall victim to the time-thieving trap of conversation, talking, talking, talking until he at last let out a tired yawn, falling dreamlessly asleep with Bunny in the nook of his arms.

Carefully examining the carefree glint in his eye, Hyunjin doesn't know really, how long it will remain there shiny and intact, is sure that whatever bubble of warmth that thaws his bones to something malleable will come bursting sooner or later, like it always does, and yet he'd never felt anything of the sort either - those unfamiliar flutters of joy swelling steadily within him.

He dresses himself languidly then, not finding himself in any hurry before deciding to call Jinyoung at last to inform him that he won't be able to come to work for a few days.

Jinyoung, as it turns out, is surprisingly worried over the phone, insisting that he take the week off and go see a doctor after he'd somewhat smudged the truth and swallowed the embarrassment that threatened to rupture at explaining why or how he'd even cut his leg in the first place.

After a few awkward hums of silence across the line, Jinyoung hesitantly asks him how's he doing, 'mentally' Hyunjin recognizes through the heavy tone in which he speaks despite him carefully avoiding the word as if sensing its impending doom far too easily.

He responds with a truthful 'I'm doing okay actually,' stomach grumbling at the realization that perhaps Jinyoung knows him better than he'd liked to admit.

Still he withdraws from the conversation feeling more relieved than anything, making his way into the living room once he's fussed over his appearance enough times to finally become satisfied, the sound of the front door closing birthing small, incessant flutters of wings to grate against his chest.

Hyunjin tries to hide the stretching grin that threatens to unravel across his face as soon as Changbin walks in the door, the joyful smile he sends him rendering him immediately unsuccessful.

"Hey," Changbin grins, stepping close to him as Hyunjin bites his lip. "Good morning. You look beautiful, did you know that?"

He narrows his eyes in a feigned suspicion, drumming his fingers lightly on Changbin's chest. "You always tell me I look beautiful, I'm starting to think you're just saying it."

"That's crazy." Changbin's eyes widen, jaw dropping as he shakes his head adamantly. "There's no way you don't know how beautiful you are. I don't believe that for a second."

"Mmh," he hums, tilting his head to the side as his eyes glimmer playfully. "Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it again."

"And I will." Changbin stares at him resolutely. "I'll say it every day till you get tired of me. I don't care how many times you've heard it, you deserve to hear how stunningly gorgeous you are every minute of every day."

"So cheesy." Hyunjin rolls his eyes, the smile unwinding across his face betraying him instantly.

"Yes," Changbin grins. "But I think you like it."

"I'm neither confirming nor denying that," he hums before Changbin wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer with a mischievous glint simmering in his eyes. Hyunjin's stomach ruptures softly.

"Can I kiss you?"

He bites his lip then, gaze brewing with a quiet, lethal ache as his gaze burrows right into him. "You don't need to ask," he says, tilting his head to side as a teasing smirk graces his face. "Isn't the point of being in a relationship that you can kiss me whenever?"

Changbin grins then, the curve of his lips laced with childlike elation. "Just checking."

Hyunjin breathes gently into the kiss as he lets his mouth become painted by delicate, feathery brushstrokes to render it back to life, remind it once more of the slithering high that swivels around his head each time it loses its stagnation - that dreadful, dust-plastered fate of lifelessness.

Changbin lets go of his chin eventually, Hyunjin sighing in contentment as the warmth in his gut starts to settle into a comfortable, mellow sheet of balminess, Changbin asking him if he's already eaten breakfast to which he softly shakes his head no.

He doesn't have much time, he says disappointedly, before he has to be at the studio but really, Hyunjin doesn't mind a couple simple slices of toast, not when the sweet, spinning threads of honey on top of them lull so pleasantly upon his tongue.

Changbin eats with him in a soothing, buzzing silence, glancing at him with a smile-inducing sense of playfulness that does nothing to help quell the fluttery kaleidoscope batting their wings against his chest.

Hyunjin sets down the piece of bread eventually, tearing it up into small bits as he peers into him with curious eyes. "What's your schedule exactly?"

Changbin blinks for a second as if processing the question before sighing deeply, the sound woven within it things he doesn't think he quite understands. "I wake up at seven and get Jia ready for kindergarten at around eight, sometimes eight-thirty if we're running late. Then I usually go to the gym because the studio doesn't open until ten but if I have to go shopping, I'll do it then. I try to go shopping like once a week but it's hard planning out meals, especially cause groceries are so fucking expensive when you don't want your child to eat like crap."

Hyunjin straightens his back immediately, mind reeling as it tries to catch up, Changbin continuing still as if repeating something memorized. "Anyway, I work till around four, pick up Jia and then start preparing dinner while she either plays or reads or does her assignments. If I have a shift at the club, she either goes to my mom's place or she comes to ours depending on Jia's mood really but if I don't then we eat dinner and she goes to bed at around eight. Then I clean up and crash. I really don't do anything after she goes to sleep, I just try to clean up as fast as possible so I can sleep too."

Changbin's eyebrows knit together then, frustrated. "Usually my off days were Sundays and Mondays but Cleopatra's is always open on Sundays so usually I have to work then, which definitely sucks because the weekend is when Jia has the most time off. Either my mom does something with her or she's at her friend's, Sophie's, place. And then she has dance on Mondays and Thursdays from five to six-thirty."

He pauses then, expression scrunched up into deep thought as if trying to remember whether there was anything else. "Oh and of course ice cream on Fridays."

Hyunjin says nothing at first, only blinking rapidly as he stares into Changbin's face, mouth opening and closing in bewilderment. "Holy shit. That sounds...intense." He laughs airily then, head far too tightly strung to comprehend any of what seems like the most bumbling, tensely paved road. "How are you...alive?"

A pained expression flits across his face, mouth thinning into a solemn, wilting frown. "The worst part isn't the sleep or the stress, it's that we spend so little time together. I can tell it's upsetting her." Changbin sighs, forehead pinched together in creases of frustration. "Me too, I just...don't know what to do."

A sudden throe of guilt strikes him then, his stomach pooling with shame at the reminder once more of the time Changbin had helped him in his apartment, leg in trickling crimson ruin and mind alit with crumbling cinders. He'd been so fucking stupid that day and in the midst of his selfish spiral he'd simply allowed for Changbin to spend yet another night away from his child.

Hyunjin swallows, pinching at his thigh discreetly as he stares emptily into his half-eaten piece of toast. "You know, I'm sure my stalker isn't an issue anymore..." he starts, nervous and not entirely sure of what he wants to say, "it would be probably be okay if you were thinking of quitting Cleo's...if you wanted to I mean. To spend more time with her."

"I think Jinyoung would disagree." Changbin looks wistfully to the side and down into his hands, voice slightly laced with something he thinks he recognizes as shame. "And besides, I need the money..."

Hyunjin nods, leg bouncing up and down in a restless inability to stay still, jittery and impatient all the same, though for what he isn't quite sure. "Uh...not to sound like an ass or anything but..." fuck he needs a cigarette, "I sort of have a lot of money I don't know what to do with...I'd be happy to help if you need it."

Changbin's gaze bores right into him then as it morphs from one of momentary surprise to an adamant resolution and shake of the head that no, absolutely not. "I can't take money from you. Really, it's nice of you to offer but...no."

Hyunjin frowns, eyebrows knitting together tightly as he purses his lips. "Well what about just for this week then since it's my fault you aren't working at the club today anyway? And you're letting me stay here for free."

"No, that's-" Changbin's jaw tightens then, eyes bleeding with a certain insistence. "This isn't a transaction or anything, I don't want it to be like that. And really, I'll be fine. I can handle it."

Hyunjin only clicks his tongue as he promptly lets the subject go, tearing off another piece of his toast and chewing on it slowly. "You're very stubborn you know."

Changbin laughs, getting up from the table to start washing the dishes. "I think that makes two of us."

Hyunjin hums as he finishes eating, handing the plate gently to Changbin as he forcibly rips his gaze away from the sink, fingers itching, itching, itching to just snatch the dishes out of his hands and take over.

No, he reminds himself, this isn't his home, he doesn't need to start pouring out his own obsessive behaviors and inability to steer himself clear of bumpy ridges right onto it, to engrave himself into the walls any more than he already has.

Changbin leaves for work soon after, giving him a swift, unexpected kiss on the cheek before promptly bidding him goodbye, smile lingering in the doorway still even minutes after he'd gone.

For a second Hyunjin does nothing but stare at the empty imprint of his absence, wishing desperately for him to come back, to let his mouth slot perfectly into his own, fingers skimming along his jaw as they echo in flutters upon his skin, to distract him easily and seamlessly from the building static reverberating throughout his head.

Hyunjin sighs, the minutes droning on in a tense, jittery silence as he tries not to let it take over his body entirely. At least not yet, not yet, he'd only been there for one night anyway.

He supposes, as most things do, that it all falls apart the moment he decides to shower, that ritualistic slaughter and reddening of his own skin just the perfect amount of agony to unleash the brewing tidal waves within, to tip over the rest of the dominos all lined up ready and eager for collapse.

Of course he makes sure to cover his injury in plastic, mind submerged in everything and nothing as he scrubs, scrubs, scrubs right into his core, muscles aching and sore once he finishes smoothening out bruised flesh in all the lotions and creams he'd packed, again and again and again.

He tries for a moment, a few fleeting minutes of an illusion of self-control, not to start cleaning the living room floors, spends his time shaky-fingered as he lights cigarette after cigarette upon the balcony until his lungs start to sputter and blacken from the ashen taste, the nicotine doing nothing to help settle the jabbing nerves brewing in the distance.

Perhaps Changbin won't even notice that he'd cleaned, he thinks as he sits rigid and knee-deep with his hands soaked in soapy water from some supplies he'd found under the sink, completing perfect circles after perfect circles upon the floorboards, onetwothree, onetwothree, or maybe he'd even appreciate it, onetwothree, making his way at last to the adjoined kitchen as he starts to scrub the counters, mind counting, counting, counting in concentrated loops. Or maybe he'd take it as an insult.

Hyunjin frowns, stomach whirring in anxious kernels ready to rupture. Overall he doesn't know how long he spends rendering the kitchen and living room shiny, deciding that he really shouldn't start barging in anywhere else and cleaning there too.

Well, maybe it won't hurt to just pick up a few things, neatly organize some of the cereal boxes on the counter, a few strewn toys lying by the TV and really, why are there colored crayons all splattered around on the living room table? Hyunjin searches for the box they belong in for a while before ultimately giving up, placing them in a neatly colored-arranged line instead.

He washes his hands then, praying, begging really for there not to be any lingering illnesses in the germs he'd just exposed himself to, already deciding that he needs another shower before the thought strikes him that no, he has no right to use up someone else's water just like that but fuck, he needs to shower, how is he supposed to stay here without showering three times, then things definitely won't be right and God, what had he done, why had he agreed to this, fuck, fuck, fuck-

Hyunjin's eyes widen immediately, the sound of the door knocking leaving him frozen and stupefied by the sink. Panicked, he hastily dries his hands as he makes his way toward the door with timid, almost frightened steps.

Jesus Christ, this is ridiculous, he thinks, forcing himself to calm down and turn the doorhandle, he's an adult for crying out loud.

Exhaling deeply, he opens the door without really knowing at all what to prepared for, face slackening into a perplexed surprise once he's met with Felix's cheery, bright smile and ignited eyes blinking right back at him.

"Hi!" He says, though really Hyunjin has a hard time focusing on his face when his arms are rather preoccupied cradling a large wicker basket filled with...are those cookies? "I heard you were injured so...I thought I'd stop by."

Hyunjin whips his head back up to stare at him then as his eyes narrow automatically, taken aback. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Oh I didn't." Felix laughs softly, face scrunching up in those trusting, unblemished strings that always pull him up. "I stopped at your apartment originally and uh, you weren't there so I asked Changbin if he knew where you were. He said I could drop by."

"Oh..." Hyunjin blinks for a few seconds, mind reeling as it tries to catch up, any semblance of functioning withering away immediately as he all but stares. "That's...a lot of cookies."

"Yeah." Felix turns his head down to the basket rather bashfully, eyes glazing over with something rather far away as his voice turns timid, embarrassed almost. "I uh, really wanted to get high yesterday so now my apartment is just flooded with cookies."

He holds out the basket slightly then, Hyunjin peering into it curiously before eventually accepting it, head still clouded in bewilderment. "I made three different kinds."

Hyunjin blinks rapidly at that, a strange feeling of unfamiliarity flooding through him, the sensation similar to when Jisung had given him that yellow-petaled carnation in what had seemed forever ago. "Well thank you. Um." He opens his mouth before closing it again, scrambling frantically around for the right things to say. Fuck, he hates talking. "That's-you didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did!" Felix chirps brightly, eyes crinkling as a wide grin befalls him. "Friends take care of each other in need, don't they?"

Hyunjin blinks again, the words making his head swirl around so fast he thinks he's starting to turn dizzy. "We're...friends?"

"Yeah, right?" Felix's smile shrinks a little, eyes wide and meek. "At least...a little?"

"Yeah, sure, sure," he ushers out, gut clenching uncomfortably. "Sorry. It's just...I've never really had many friends..."

"Me neither," Felix breathes out, lips turning into a small, fleeting pout. "Or at least not many real ones."

Something ugly rears itself in his chest then, the slow-turning head of a vicious, disfigured beast. Hyunjin pushes it down immediately. "I find that hard to believe. You're so...positive. And likeable."

"Yeah, well..." Felix casts his eyes to the side for a second, voice thrumming with an uncharacteristically dull sense of emptiness, "people like taking advantage of that you know?"

"Right," he mutters, sure he understands it on some level despite not having ever been guiltless enough to have experienced it himself. "Oh-do you want to come in?"

"Sure!" Felix positively lights up at that, mouth stretching into a wide smile once more as Hyunjin steps aside and walks back into the kitchen, Felix following suit. Not really knowing what the fuck he's supposed to do with an entire wicker basket full of cookies, he hesitantly finds a couple of napkins and hands one to Felix, who thanks him as merrily as he'd expected before sitting down by the dining table, hands wringing each other nervously.

Felix explains happily then that the cookies he'd made were chocolate chip, oatmeal and red velvet and definitely recommending the red velvet as Hyunjin takes one from the basket gingerly, breaking off a small piece and chewing on it slowly.

Felix beams brightly once he confirms that it was indeed delicious - though he'd never really doubted that after the brownies he'd made him try - smiling lightly and without care as he reaches for his own cookie.

His eyes glimmer then, something mischievous and playful unfurling within as he gives Hyunjin a certain look he can't quite decipher. "So...any particular reason why you're staying at Changbin's place?"

Oh. Oh. Fuck. Hyunjin scratches the inside of his arm nervously, mind buzzing back to frantic life. He hadn't given much thought to having to tell other people, though he supposes Felix was probably the least of his worries when it came to that...he swallows harshly, throat littered with specks of uncertainty. "Um...we're kind of...seeing each other."

Felix's eyes bulge so wide Hyunjin thinks they might come popping out of their sockets before he shrieks, "Oh my god, you're dating?!"

"Yeah." He winces, nails scraping restlessly against his skin.

"I knew it!" Felix claps his hands together then, seemingly overcome by a whirring, all consuming energy as his eyes crackle with excited sparks. "I feel like I played a little part. Remember when I made you guys bake brownies together?" He laughs, grin teasing. "I so did that on purpose."

"What?" Hyunjin sits up straight then, eyes wide and mouth dropped open as he tries to process what he'd just said, Felix only snickering at his obvious state of shock.

"Please you guys were so obvious," he says, taking a happy bite of out the cookie in his hand. "The sexual tension was painful."

Hyunjin only blinks, body strung high and rigid in disbelief. "I don't believe this..."

"Believe it," Felix grins, putting down the cookie as he smirks. "Actually I made a bet with Minho on how long it would take for you to...you know..." His eyebrow arches then. "Fuck."

"What?!" Hyunjin can but stare dumbfounded at the man before him, eyes still buzzing wide and in incredulity.

Felix only nods as if it's nothing, breaking off another piece and tossing it in his mouth. "Yeah so...you have right?"

Hyunjin blinks, trying desperately to get over the baffling information that had just spun his head all the way around, the surprise settling into something slightly appeased after a while. "Um...yeah. But that was a while ago."

"When exactly?" Felix probes, eyes shining with curiosity.

He thinks for a moment, unsure really why it feels so unnatural to disclose such information, never really having had anyone to confide in such personal retellings of his own life.

Still Felix peers into him inquisitively, patiently awaiting an answer. "It was uh...after the photoshoot. When I did the lap dance on stage."

"Holy shit, that was forever ago!" Felix grins, slightly surprised as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Damn. I owe Minho twenty bucks."

Hyunjin grumbles at that, stomach souring at the mere mention of the name. "Well maybe you just don't tell him. I don't want Minho of all people to make money off of literally anything that has to do with me."

Felix says nothing at that, only humming somewhat in agreement as another mischievous smile flits across his face, eyebrow quirking upward playfully. "So...what's it like? Dating a DILF?"

Hyunjin visibly recoils, the word grating against his ear. "Please don't ever say that ever again."

Felix laughs for a moment before sighing in what he only imagines to be something of a great exhaustion, placing his chin in his hand as if to sulk. "Ugh I'm so jealous. I'm so single it's actually painful."

Hyunjin's eyebrows knit together in confusion, Felix's spotless, porcelain face contorted into an endearing pout, blond hair falling in small strands across his face as if crests of a drooping, golden wreath. He frowns, incomprehension tunneling through him. "Literally how?"

Felix sighs for a moment, sitting up right again and fiddling nervously with his fingers as if pondering what to say, deciding at last to force meagre words no doubt upon the thoughts frothing quietly within his head.

"It's just...I don't know. I try going on dates and stuff and I always think it's going well until they ask what I do for a living. It's like the word 'stripper' just flicks a switch in their head and they always get so weird." He grimaces at the end as if reliving some painful memory, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip as he peers into him.

"Yeah, I get it," Hyunjin says, after a while, gut brewing with something uncomfortable as Felix visibly relaxes, clearly worried of being misunderstood. "When someone recognizes me in public they always think they can say whatever the fuck they want." He breaks of another piece of his cookie almost aggressively, shaking his head as he scoffs. "And I think to myself, 'no way you speak to other people like that.'"

"Right?!" Felix nods his head eagerly, having undoubtedly been waiting a saw-edged amount of time steeped in a silent frustration. Hyunjin understands, he thinks, though he usually tries not to let his thoughts fester for too long without breaking them with his own little spell of addiction.

He supposes sobriety produces far too much time for thinking, Felix looking as if seconds away from bursting as he once again opens his mouth. "Either they're immediately put off and think I sleep with tons of guys or they just assume they can blurt out the most crazy shit and get away with it."

"Or they get intimidated," he mutters, laughing all of the sudden as a memory strikes him, eyes bulging in disbelief. "Once I hooked up with this random guy and he found out I was a stripper at his apartment and he got so nervous he couldn't perform."

He shakes his head, Felix listening intently. "Like he thought I was some sex expert that would start laughing at him if he did it wrong." He pauses then, quirking an eyebrow as he bites back a grin. "Well. I probably would've."

Felix's eyes twist in a genuine streak of sympathy. "Aw, poor guy."

"No, poor me," he corrects, grumbling disbelievingly under his breath. "What a waste of my fucking time."

Felix laughs, eyes crinkling in amusement before breaking off another piece of his cookie. "Okay well listen to this," he starts, eyes brimming with exasperation, "I was on a date with this man at a café in the middle of the day mind you and he seemed you know, normal, and when I told him I was a stripper he tried to get it on with me in the restroom!" Hyunjin snickers quietly at his incredulous expression, body seeping away in confoundment. "That was our first date!"

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow then, eyeing him skeptically. "Was he hot?"

"Yeah." Felix shrugs, as if not seeing the point. Hyunjin smirks, gazing into him incredulously. "And you said no?"

Felix rolls his eyes playfully, a strangled whine withering in the back of his throat. "Yes! The whole time he was talking about how he wanted a real relationship and blah blah blah until I told him I was a stripper."

Hyunjin laughs, the dramatic display far more entertaining than he'd admit. "Date another stripper then."

Felix groans at that, slumping forward onto the table as he rests his head on top of his hands. "Ugh no...they all have issues."

"See!" Hyunjin grins, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. "You're just as bad as them."

"Can you blame me?" Felix raises an eyebrow up at him then. "My reference points are you and Minho."

Hyunjin purses his lips, taking a small bite of a chocolate chip cookie then, the flavor erupting immediately in richness and a strange settlement of promised calm and ease, a tiny sliver of something yielded from care. "Touché."

Felix sighs contentedly then, straightening himself up slightly so that he's no longer sprawled upon the table, resting his chin in his hand once again. "It's nice to talk about at least. It's cathartic."

Hyunjin only hums in agreement, the feeling just as relieving as it is foreign, unsure really of how he's supposed to view it. Felix smiles suddenly then, an idea flitting through his mind. "Now that you're dating Changbin, maybe I can steal Jinyoung finally."

"You could've fucked him either way," he says, the comment leaving a strange, almost bitter taste in his mouth. "We weren't in a relationship, I thought you knew that."

Felix raises an eyebrow at that. "Yeah but he liked you though."

"Not like that," he scoffs, the thought cinching his insides uncomfortably.

"He totally did," Felix insists, giving him an amused sort of look as if unable to understand his defensive nature.

Hyunjin doesn't particularly know either, why entertaining the idea bothers him so much, his hands back to scraping discreetly against his thigh, almost wishing his jeans weren't there to lessen the throes of pain.

"No he didn't..." he presses, gaze boring into Felix with a heady resolution. "He's not a relationship man anyway."

Felix sighs deeply then, an exaggerated dreamy expression flitting across his face. "I could fix him."

Hyunjin laughs, nose scrunching up in disgust. "Eugh God, you deserve someone better than that."

Felix hums, sitting up straight again, arms stretched out before him as he fiddles absent-mindedly with one of the many rings upon his fingers. "I guess it's hard to attract romantics in this line of work."

"Yeah..." Hyunjin mutters quietly, a buried sense of gloom awakening back to life within his chest. "I always thought that was a good thing you know, until, well, now I guess."

Felix peers into him uncharacteristically serious then, eyes teeming with a thousand words yearning to be said. "Is it your first relationship?" Ropes perhaps, cast carefully out with the hope that someone will latch onto them.

He wonders if Felix is as lonely as he is. Had been, at least. His muscles seize in a sudden fear, tongue spilling the toiled spiderwebs of his secrets as if unraveling something of a great fragility.

"I feel like I'm gonna fuck it up." The words come out more in whispers than anything, throat lodged with something heavy and dense as it chokes its way through the air between them.

Felix gives him a comforting, understanding look, an almost mournful expression glistening in his eyes. For some reason Felix's sympathy awakes no anger within him then, only small ripples of relief instead.

"I get it," he says, biting his lip as his eyebrows furrow. "You can always come to me if you wanna talk...I know it's uncomfortable but...if you ever need advice." Hyunjin can feel the sincerity in his statement like the light that filters through his curtained windows in the morning, streaming, constant. Always there to rouse him back to life.

Felix laughs shortly then, the sound empty of any humor as a certain bitterness weaves its way through. "Well. Not like my relationships have been so successful but...I know what it's like being scared, feeling like you're doomed to ruin it."

"Thanks," he breathes out, the thought of eating another cookie nauseous all of the sudden as he lets the outstretched hand in front of him linger heavily in his mind. Perhaps he'll grasp onto it one day. One day. Not today, no, he thinks, sighing loudly as if coming down from a strenuous, tiresome stretch. "Ever thought of becoming a therapist?"

"Yes then my dating pool would go from douchebags to psychos," Felix deadpans sarcastically, Hyunjin laughing at the exasperated look in his eyes.

"Please, like there'd be much difference," he snorts. "At least your psychos would be going to therapy, trying to fix themselves."

Felix grins then, gaze radiating with subtle rays of something hopeful, rosy petals of a sudden prosperity fluorescing quietly between them. "We should hang out more."

There's something strangely unnerving in the way acceptance curls itself inside of his gut, chest entwined with light, feathery touches to unravel in brushes previously unexplored. It's different, he thinks, than when with Changbin. He supposes it makes sense. After all, he's never had a friend before.

"Yeah," he says, smile as easy as it is comforting. "We should."

 

-

 

Stripping, as it turns out, isn't as different to the patterns in which he'd carved his body before.

Sure, there's a technique, a new form of dancing he's still slowly becoming used to - his legs littered in blue and purple, his arms constantly sore from lifting himself up - and yet it's the story that really matters, the game, the playfulness of putting on a show. And Hyunjin is nothing if not excellent in giving an audience exactly what they want.

He'd learnt well enough how to categorize the men Ophelia had sent his way, was more than convinced that patrons of a cheap, seedy gentlemen's club in the middle of sand-scattered Arizona couldn't exactly be that different or more difficult to break apart with a needle-like puncture of his stare.

Really, the contrast in their behavior confines itself mostly to the fact that they can't touch him the way his old clients could, their hands still stretching and grabbing and entirely out of line for any other normal interaction and yet it isn't the same.

They aren't paying him for sex, aren't paying to slap or choke or shove him around even, bleeding themselves dry of attention and cash simply for the mere act of watching from afar, his body twisting and spinning itself upon the pole like an unraveling ball of thread, of something pretty, something embroidered, something to skim delicately across your fingers before crumbling it to powdery dust in your wake.

Of course most of them are crude and vulgar and not at all refined and yet he smirks all the same as they wanderingly stuff a dollar bill down his shorts, the playful glint in his eye shimmering magnetically from the dusty glow of the lightbulb above.

He gets it, he thinks, understands why they come here, understands the torture and satisfaction of leaning into a fantasy whose existence is bound solely within the smoke-scented, peeling panels of decaying, crumbling walls. A small taste of freedom, a strip of land unbridled by inhibitions, expectations, responsibility - the imposing of human constrictions, of tedious, tiresome rules, morals, commandments to worship.

Hyunjin gets it. Especially since it's him, the Dove, whose wings flutter and glimmer all around in an entrancing, spellbinding little dance upon that puny, poorly built stage. It's nothing, an upgrade from when he'd performed on the burning concrete of the sidewalk and yet he feels invincible like that, mighty, powerful, a simple flex of his leg strong enough to leave his watchers knee-deep in worship.

Stripping isn't good for his ego, he concludes, the amount of flirting, desirous gazes and pretty, pretty attention like a drug right there in the lack of hate-filled stares and violent clutches to throttle him with.

He's better than the others, much better, even without the same dance experience as they have, he knows they know, knows they detest him just as much as Ophelia's little collection of alley-cats and yet he never gets tired of the confirmation, their scorned, petty glares like a coiling fire straight to his gut.

And perhaps his standards are warped, gutted by the sharp knives of his past and still he comes to find a certain thrill in his customers, his skin doused in a constant craving of their attention, their compliments, their undivided stares, the heavy touches that sometimes linger upon his thigh.

Maybe he likes it so much because he knows he holds all the power right there, knows they can only hope and yearn from a distance, their desire all the more glorious and addicting as it fills the air between them with the sweet stench of desperation.

Usually he never gives them more than the show they're there for, batting his eyes and laughing all the right ways before he slinks away into the night. The only person he has sex with really, is Carlos. He considers it part of the deal for letting him stay in his run-down apartment above the club, though he supposes they'd never really spoken about it.

Hyunjin doesn't mind, he knows he won't say no, not with the way he snorts coke off of the cracked out tiles of the bathroom floor for free and takes shots of tequila like a morning glass of water to waken him up. How could he not with the constant headache that looms the second the horrifying palm of sobriety strikes him or with the awful, persisting smell of old dishes that clutter up the kitchen.

Hyunjin tries, at first, screaming mind unable to withstand the terror of such a messy way of living, to clean and scrub and change the curve of the stream and yet Carlos reminds him quickly of his place. He's a live-in whore, not some nagging housewife and so Hyunjin firmly shuts up. A couple of lines later and he's forgotten all about it anyway.

He works there for about seven months, painting himself the Dove every night as he slaughters himself to beauty and all its glory upon the stage, that wretched name like a sharp wielded blade to puncture his lungs with every time he hears it uttered out loud.

He works there for seven months, seven months before he sees him, watchful and with a glint of something uncatchable, a full, burning spark in the otherwise swathing sea of flickering lightbulbs.

Jinyoung is different from the rest, though he finds it difficult to explain why, something slightly off about the way he moves and talks, the way his gaze lingers from down below as it runs itself up and down his spinning body. Maybe off is the wrong word. On, perhaps.

Hyunjin doesn't know, only lets himself fall victim to the glittering intrigue of such a stranger, his consistency coming and going with the same unpredictability of the breeze.

Sometimes he doesn't see him for weeks, other times he comes for days in a row and Hyunjin finds himself thinking about him far more than he'd like to admit, eager, yearning for some strange reason to know why, to know what lies behind that calculated gaze, what makes him tick, what makes him stumble.

Jinyoung isn't like the others, silent, strategic, each word that comes out of his mouth like a string of pearls commanding him to listen. Jinyoung doesn't talk purely for the sake of talking, doesn't touch just to touch, doesn't whisper pretty words into his ear that he's heard a thousand times before.

It annoys him, for some reason, as much as it attracts him. He wants to see him break, wants to know how to rupture his control into tiny, flea-sized pieces, feel the shards pierce against his skin as they sink into them.

He hates it, feels like a fool then. All of the sudden he isn't the one with the power anymore, exhaling puffs of smoke laced with that same, putrid desperation as the rest of them, the club overflowing with a foul, gut-wrenching odor of something so weakly human.

He doesn't understand why, why his gaze always ends up finding his in the swarm of watchers always lingering, his stomach curling with something hot and dangerous, addicting, addicting, addicting.

He wants to burrow his way under his skin like some tick, wants to crawl and nestle himself into his brain until he becomes the only thing he'll think of, doomed to return back to the same ragged paths of a lowlife strip club just to get a peek, just to get the illusion of a taste.

And then, once he's caught, Hyunjin wants to push him away with a smile on his face, laugh beautiful and cruel as the power rightly bestows itself upon him, running far, far away before he manages to capture him with his grasp.

Hyunjin's always been good at running away, he'd run away from bullies, run away from home, run away from Ophelia and now- his eye twitches then, once he notices that Jinyoung isn't there that night.

Maybe he won't run away this time, at least not now, at least not yet. He'll wait, he thinks. He'll be back, he knows he will.

He'll be back.

 

-

 

After Felix leaves, there really isn't much time for his mind to unravel itself the way it usually does, having stayed longer than he could've foreseen before bidding him a cheerful, jumpy goodbye after impulsively hugging him on the way out the door - to which he'd promptly stood there tense and wide-eyed, body frozen in shock.

Felix had only laughed it off, seemingly not having minded at all as he very chipperly left the apartment, his mind slow and turned into a bumbling, rugged swirl of static from all the energy he'd spent...and yet, he wasn't exhausted like he usually found himself after unexpected conversation, invigored instead as he spent the next hour or so ruminating around the balcony with a cigarette in his hand, - followed promptly by intense gum chewing to mask the scent - waiting restlessly for Changbin's return.

Maybe he'd even walked back into the bedroom just to hold Bunny for a bit, cradle him softly in his arms as a warm smile curved its way across his face, the memory from the night before still as fresh and burning as when he'd woken up.

He figures it might be embarrassing really, the way his eyes soften at the slightest touch of Bunny's gentle, velvety body and it most certainly is, he thinks, when he starts obsessively fixating on his appearance in the mirror, the clock ticking closer and closer to when he assumes they'd be home, fingers smoothening out his hair and clothes more and more frantically with each passing second.

He hardly finds it in himself to care if his behavior comes off as pathetic, thankful and relieved once he hears the sound of the door close shut from outside the room, signaling the blessing of having something to distract him with at last.

Not just something, someone. Two people to be exact, both of them grinning at him widely once he greets them, Jia waving at him excitedly from upon the floor where she takes of her white, duck-painted sneakers. Hyunjin's heart spirals.

Changbin's eyes surge with a sudden surprise once they start flitting around the kitchen, face scrunched up into something of both bewilderment and disbelief. "Did you...clean?"

Hyunjin panics immediately, completely having forgotten his descent into his own contorting mind before Felix's visit. "I didn't snoop through anything I promise!"

Jia peers up at him curiously then, gazing back and forth between him and Changbin as if sensing something unusual about his frenzied tone. Hyunjin swallows harshly, feigning calm as he smiles weakly. "I only cleaned the living room and the kitchen and um just arranged the toys over there. Sorry. I hope it's okay."

Changbin grins at him amusedly then, the edge of his smile gentle and reassuring in all the right ways. Relief overcome him instantly. "Yeah of course, I just...you shouldn't be putting any strain on your leg. You should just be relaxing, you know?"

Hyunjin laughs, the sound airy and uncomfortable. "Yeah I don't know how to do that."

"It's easy," Jia pipes up, eyes still as round as before as they simmer with confusion, perplexed he assumes, that he wouldn't know such a thing. "All you have to do is take a bath with lots of bubbles, put on your bathrobe and drink your juice box." She blinks up at him innocently, shrugging as if there had been nothing more obvious to explain.

Changbin laughs softly as he starts unpacking Jia's backpack, Hyunjin nodding in understanding at her expectant expression. "Oh really? It's that easy huh?"

Jia nods eagerly, jumping back up on her feet as her dark hair flutters around. "Yep! And you can listen to music if you want but if it's too loud then you can't relax. So be careful."

"I'll remember that," he says, tone grave and serious as Jia nods along in the same line of severity, Changbin shooting them a fond look as he starts picking out ingredients from the fridge. Jia gives him a secretive smile before climbing her way onto one of the stools by the kitchen counter, animatedly leaning her entire body over it as she watches her father start chopping vegetables.

"What's for dinner?" She chirps, Changbin arching an eyebrow warningly at the way she rocks back and forth upon the stool. She settles down with a small grin.

"Turkey burgers," he smiles, Jia nodding in apparent approval. "It won't take long."

"Can I play?" She buzzes eagerly in anticipation for the answer, practically zooming out of the stool and into her room the second Changbin tells her that yes, she can.

Hyunjin watches in amusement at the way she speeds away, gone in the same flash she'd arrived. Walking over to where she'd been, he leans over the counter instead, peering up playfully at Changbin as he continues preparing dinner.

"Hey." Changbin smiles at him then, eyes crinkling happily. Hyunjin's stomach swoops.

"Hi," he grins, biting his lip and pressing his leaning his body in even further, face peering up at him teasingly. Changbin does a quick, exaggerated scan around the kitchen with wide eyes before swiftly swooping in to give him a short, hasty kiss as if doing something he wasn't supposed to.

Hyunjin laughs as he pulls away, the sound light and sweet and entirely too infatuated and so he rolls his eyes for good measure. Changbin only grins, turning back to the cutting board as he asks him about his day.

Jumping off the stool, Hyunjin tells him about Felix's visit as he walks behind the counter and washes his hand, grabbing a vegetable and an unused knife as Changbin promptly finds another cutting board, eyebrow raised in delighted surprise.

Hyunjin helps him prepare the food then, although slow in the process never having made anything more complex than a piece of toast, Changbin sneaking in to give him a kiss every now and then, the stirring butterflies turning frenzied and quivering each time he leans in.

For a moment he thinks he could find comfort in the newfound routine of domesticity, revel in its cascading strips of distilled honey even, let his fingers and heart become sticky, sticky, sticky in things he's never understood.

Yet a subtle, brewing spring of discomfort gnaws quietly on his gut as if wrapped in a fabric too tight, too intended for someone else than his own outstretching, overflowing body.

He wishes he could shrink himself then, contort his own limbs and bones so as to fit the neatly threaded lines of something so simple, something so pure, could feel within himself the acceptance of a radiating beam without tight fists of ruin pounding through his skull.

That horrible echo of whispers he'd uttered earlier trickle mockingly back into his head, filtering in and out like a hypnotizing, blood-curling mantra to live by. He's going to fuck it up. He doesn't know how or when but he knows, knows like the back of his hand the inevitability of his own doom, he's gonna fuck it up, he's gonna fuck it up, he's gonna-

"Do you mind telling Jia that dinner's ready?" Changbin turns to him then, smiling softly as he starts plating the food. Hyunjin blinks, brain whirring rapidly as it tries to catch up. "Oh and tell her that she needs to wash her hands?"

"Sure," he replies, Changbin sending him a thankful grin as he makes his way tentatively into the corridor where Jia's door glimmers in an overpowering splendor next to the plain one of the bathroom next to it.

He knocks as if to signal his presence, pushing open the already slightly ajar door as he finds Jia sprawled across the floor on her stomach, a book in her hand as she momentarily pauses her reading to look up at him.

"Dinner's ready," he says, eyes flitting around the room as he chews nervously on his lips. "Your dad told me to come get you."

Jia nods in understanding before turning back down to the book, the vivid pictures of colorful animals scattered around the page.

"Oh and to wash your hands-"

"Which animal are you?" Jia peers back up at him, blinking with the same wide, inquisitive eyes he's slowly becoming used to.

"Um, what?" He laughs nervously, sitting on the floor next to her after she very eagerly beckons for him to come closer.

She sits up straight then, crossing her legs as she holds out the book in front of him so as to display clearly the pages, the face of different kinds of monkeys greeting him amicably with information about them listed right beneath. Some sort of nonfictional book, he assumes, intended for children to learn more about animals.

"Everyone's an animal, didn't you know?" She looks at him curiously, pointing determinately at a rather cute looking baby monkey as it that would further explain her point.

"Really?" Hyunjin laughs softly, shaking his head. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yep," Jia grins then, seemingly somewhat excited at the prospect of having to explain yet another thing to him. "I'm a jellyfish" she points firmly at her own chest, eyes boring into him resolutely as Hyunjin nods along, "Grandma is a tiger, Uncle Channie is a puppy - he says he's a wolf but I know that's not true because wolves are scary and uncle Channie is not - and Uncle Jisung is a chipmunk."

She smiles widely then, satisfied as she scans him up and down, eyes narrowing in deep thought before she perks up in an enthusiastic triumph. "And you...you're a kitty cat!"

Hyunjin's looks up at her as she stands up eagerly, towering over him with a delighted smile, very proud no doubt of her own conclusion. "A kitty cat?"

"Yes!" She nods vigorously, leaning in close to his face as if to further examine him. Hyunjin only blinks at her rapidly. "You have kitty eyes!"

She laughs then, still very much satisfied with her findings as she sits back down again, flipping through another page in the book as she brushes away a few loose strands of hair blocking her vision.

Hyunjin watches her skim through a couple of pages first, not entirely sure whether she can read or not - what age do kids even learn to read? - before his staring catches her attention, her eyes glancing at him bashfully all of the sudden. Hyunjin almost laughs in endearment, her sudden timidness a jarring contrast from the usual brightly spattered colors she paints herself with.

"What about your dad? Which animal is he?" He asks, after a while, Jia putting down the book to look at him firmly then.

"He's a walrus," she shrugs, as if the answer was simple. Hyunjin's forehead creases in confusion, head tilting to the side.

"Why?"

Jia only snickers quietly to herself as she shrugs once more. "Because it's funny."

Alright, Hyunjin thinks, giving her an amused look, he can accept that, Changbin's voice suddenly resounding from the kitchen as he shouts in announcement that dinner is ready, Hyunjin almost flinching from the unexpected loud noise.

Jia stands up quickly then, walking toward the door before beckoning him cutely to follow her with her hand, eyes scrunched up in a childlike adoration. "Let's go kitty."

Hyunjin almost does a double take at that, only smiling brightly after a few seconds of not moving, Jia waiting for him patiently by the door with an expectant gaze. Is he supposed to act like a cat or what?

He can save that for another day, he thinks, standing back up again and following her out to the dining table where the plates and food have already been neatly set, Jia rushing over to wash her hands quickly before sitting down.

Copying her, though undoubtedly spending a far greater amount of time, he thinks he comes to learn a little more about how dinners usually play out between the two of them, well three of them now. Something strange punches through his stomach at the thought. He can't tell whether it's uncomfortable or thrilling.

Jia follows the same patterns as the day before, talking animatedly and in between bites of food except for when she becomes especially invigored in some part of her retelling of the day and forgets to swallow before chattering, eyes bulging and buzzing with life as Hyunjin can't help but laugh at the muffled way her words resound.

She doesn't seem to mind it when Changbin tries to reminder her not to talk with food in her mouth, more often than not ignoring him as if he's not even there, gaze fixated instead entirely upon him from across the table.

It's clear the excitement of a stranger hearing her stories takes precedence over listening to her own father, her arms flailing about as she comes to a particularly vivid description about something that had happened to her best friend Sophie's older sister, how she'd screamed and argued with her mother before slamming the door shut and leaving.

"And we were all shocked!" Jia insists, Hyunjin giggling behind his hand at how serious she sounds, Jia shaking her head as if in disbelief over such behavior. Changbin must have heard the story before, only glancing at her with a pained sort of expression flitting across his face.

"And then she went to her boyfriend's house! But Sophie told me that she has two boyfriends so we don't know which one." Jia takes a deep breath then, eyes blinking in exasperation.

"Wait you didn't tell me that part before," Changbin chimes in, frowning deeply.

"Yep!" Jia nods, taking another way too large bite of her burger. "I thought you could only have one boyfriend but Sophie's sister said you can have as many as you want."

Hyunjin almost bursts out laughing again at the horrified look on Changbin's face, Jia blinking up at him innocently.

"When I'm older I'll have five boyfriends," She says, grinning mischievously. "And Sophie's sister said to make them buy you things. Whatever you want." She sends him a quick, playful glance before looking back at her father, feigning ignorance at his troubled expression.

"Okay please don't listen to Sophie's sister-"

"What would you make them buy you?" Hyunjin grins, Jia's mouth curving upward slyly.

"Something expensive," she emphasizes the word firmly, Changbin looking more and more alarmed by the second as Hyunjin snickers silently. "Very expensive, like..." she thinks for a moment, bottom lip jutting out in a small pout before she straightens up excitedly, "like a ring pop!"

Changbin laughs then, Hyunjin blinking in confusion. "What is that?"

"It's a candy ring," Changbin explains, a little relieved, he thinks, by her answer. "Like a lollipop."

"Yeah but it's a diamond," Jia stresses, eyes wide and resolute as if urgent to explain. "So it cost a lot. Like...like a hundred maybe."

"A hundred?" Hyunjin laughs endearingly at her graveness. "A hundred dollars?"

Jia nods earnestly as she takes another bite of her burger, the words stifled from her chewing. "Diamonds are very expensive you know."

"Oh I know," Hyunjin grins, Changbin shaking his head in a humorous disbelief as she eventually puts her food down, leaving the burger only half eaten and firmly pushing her plate away from herself.

"Can I be done?" She turns to Changbin expectantly, body whirring with the unleashed force of what he can only imagine to be streams and streams of energy, Changbin frowning at her plate.

"You didn't even eat half."

"I'm full," Jia insists, rocking back and forth and somehow Hyunjin doubts her desire to leave the table has anything to do with the amount of food she's eaten.

Changbin only looks at her skeptically. "You always do this, you say you're full and then you want to eat right when it's bedtime."

"But I am full Daddy!" Jia presses, eyes wide and reflected with assurance. Changbin sighs, giving her a stern look. "Eat three more bites."

Jia grumbles something under her breath before eventually doing as told, rolling her eyes as Hyunjin tries not to laugh before forcefully dropping the burger back down on the plate and politely taking it back to the kitchen counter after Changbin gives her confirmation that yes, she may leave the table.

Jia skips away happily as Changbin starts to clear away the dishes, Hyunjin contentedly full as well as he watches him clean from across the counter, sending him playful smiles that Changbin more than gladly reciprocates, the urge to lean in and bring his mouth into a kiss brewing dangerously in his gut.

Having almost forgotten Jia was still there, Hyunjin jumps slightly in shock as she barrels forward to tug at his hand, his body spinning around as she grins up at him.

"Watch!" She says enthusiastically before firmly launching into a perfect cartwheel across the floor, her brightly colored turquoise leggings flailing in the air before landing elegantly back down again. She looks at him expectantly after that, though really he isn't sure exactly what he's supposed to say.

"I can do that too," he grins, making sure there's enough distance between Jia and himself before throwing himself into a cartwheel, Jia staring up at him with eyes blown wide in impression once he's stood straight back up again, mouth forming into an excited, bright curve.

"Can you touch your toes?" She asks eagerly, placing her legs together as she pointedly bends down to reach them. Hyunjin grins, copying her easily to which she seems to grow even more ecstatic.

"Can you do the splits?" He asks, sinking down into them as Jia wordlessly follows suit, beaming at him avidly from where she has her legs stretched out beneath her. Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, impressed before changing positions, one leg in front and the other back. "The other way?"

Jia grins as she flicks her hair over her shoulder before copying him seamlessly, her radiating excitement infectious he thinks, as the smile that graces his lips never once threatens to wilt. From over behind the kitchen counter he can spot Changbin watching them with great interest, face curved as if amazed.

"Do more!" Jia jumps back up again then, staring at him expectantly, Hyunjin following suit as he tries to think of the stretches he does before practicing his routines.

"Oh um...can you raise your leg above your head?" He lifts his leg smoothly up straight as Jia does the same, satisfied it seems that she'd been able to do everything he'd asked of her.

"How are you guys doing that?" Changbin shakes his head, forehead creased as if dumbfounded. "I don't get it."

Jia looks at him playfully then before turning back to Hyunjin, eyes shimmering as if to share something incredibly unthinkable. "Daddy can't do anything like that."

Hyunjin grins as he looks up at Changbin, tone teasing and insistent. "Try."

"Yeah try it Daddy!" Jia yells, sitting down on the floor as if preparing to watch a show, gesturing energetically for him to do the same. Hyunjin laughs, sitting down next to her as Changbin walks from behind the counter and out onto the living room floor, eyes pained and already simmering with doubt at their eagerly awaiting expressions.

Turns out Jia had been right, Changbin only managing to drop half-way into the splits without an agonized look flitting across his face as stands rapidly back up. "Ow, fuck!"

Hyunjin watches with amusement as the slow realization of horror dawns upon his face, his eyes widening in panic as Jia starts to cackle. "Jia don't say that word!"

"Oh how the tables have turned," Hyunjin grins, raising an eyebrow as Changbin silently curses under his breath again, Jia laughing too loudly to notice it.

It isn't until she manages to assure him through half-serious giggles that she won't repeat the word that he goes back to clean over the table, sending him an affectionate smile over his shoulder.

It isn't difficult to return one back, a certain warmth unfurling within him as it lulls his limbs to a comfort unbound from anything he's once known before, the momentary deceit of being part of a family pooling within him in honeyed, nauseating flutters. He swallows nervously then, distrustful of its pleasantness.

Hyunjin supposes it's good really, that he never has much time to think then, Jia leaning from where she sits next to him to whisper mischievously in his ear. "Daddy's an old man that's why he can't do it."

Hyunjin laughs, glancing Changbin's way as he whispers back. "He's a grandpa."

"Yes, a dinosaur!" Jia says, voice still hushed yet invigored by his agreement to well, gossip he supposes.

"What are you two whispering about over there?" Changbin shouts from over by the table, eyeing them skeptically. "It better not be about me!"

Hyunjin promptly ignores him, grinning as he turns back to Jia quietly. "A fossil."

"What's that?" Jia's smile slips momentarily off of her face as she blinks at him expectantly.

"Oh um." Hyunjin pauses for a seconds, unsure of how to explain it. "Like dinosaur bones."

"Yes." Jia nods eagerly then, smile back once more and laced with a playful brazenness. "A fossil."

Suddenly and true to her unpredictability, she stands back up again to tower over him, leaning down close as she puts his face gently in her hands, smile affectionate and unusually tender. "Can I call you Hyunjinnie?"

Hyunjin blinks for a few seconds, caught entirely off guard before letting his head fall into a nod of acceptance, Jia beaming at him before retreating her hands away.

"Or Kitty Cat." Jia laughs then, patting his head lightly, Hyunjin only staring up at her in startlement.

"Kitty Cat," she coos, expression far away and dreamlike, streaks of an imagination unbridled tumbling through her mind as she continues to stare at him fondly. Hyunjin can't help the smile that comes sloping across his lips then, heart melting at the tender way in which she admires him.

"Oh!" Jia stops patting him suddenly then, jolting back upright as if reminded of something of a great importance. "I have to draw something."

Hyunjin watches in amusement as she skips over toward the now clean dining table, rummaging through the chest of drawers right behind it until she finds a couple of sheets of paper and crayons, sitting firmly back down by the table once she's gathered all the correct colors. Hyunjin walks over to her then, sitting down across from her as Changbin follows suit, at last finished with cleaning up everything.

"What is it?" Changbin asks, Jia sitting still in deep thought with a brown crayon tightly in her grip.

"It's a surpriseee," Jia smiles secretively before starting to draw animatedly, fingers moving with a rapid speed as Hyunjin watches her in fascination. She seems intently concentrated he thinks, illustrating what he thinks more and more to look like a puppy as she hums happily on a melody he can't recognize.

Changbin looks at her fondly next to him, Hyunjin's stomach tightening in feathery knots at the image, heart beating viciously against his ribcage.

"You are way cooler than Daddy," Jia says then, Hyunjin blinking from the unexpectedness as she takes a moment to look up at him before turning her attention back to the sheet of paper.

"Hey! I can hear you, you know," Changbin laughs, Jia not once turning to glance up at him.

"I knowww," Jia singsongs before stopping again, a thoughtful expression flitting across her face. "You might be even cooler than Uncle Jisung."

Hyunjin snorts at that, raising a knowing eyebrow Changbin's way who at least has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. "Oh I'm definitely cooler than Jisung."

"But he has tattoos," Jia explains, eyebrows furrowed as if frustrated by her own logic. "And everybody knows tattoos make you cooler right away."

Changbin grins, clearly satisfied. "I taught her that."

"And Uncle Jisung has the coolest tattoos."

Hyunjin blinks, sitting up straight then, unreasonably determined to prove himself all of the sudden. "I have tattoos too, I have two of them."

"Really?" Jia perks up at that, fascination and excitement enveloping her once more as she stands up eagerly. "Can I see?!"

Hyunjin glances toward Changbin then, as if waiting for his approval. He only laughs amusedly at that, grinning widely. "Go ahead, I don't see why not."

Hyunjin stands up from the chair as Jia walks over to him, lifting his shirt just enough to reveal the fluttering kaleidoscope spiraling their way down his waist. Jia's jaw drops open in amazement, her gaze fixated intently upon the butterflies as if mesmerized.

"Wow...pretty," she breathes out, glancing up at him as if bashful once more before turning back to inspect the tattoo, a loud gasp emitting from her mouth in astonishment as she seems to notice something else. "You have a diamond in your belly button!"

Hyunjin laughs endearingly at her stunned expression, the gemstone glistening slightly from the orange light cascading above them. "Yeah, it's a piercing."

"Like my ears?" She asks, tugging at her own earlobes where a small pair of pretty daisies are nestled gracefully.

Hyunjin smiles fondly. "Yeah like your ears."

"Can I touch?" She glances at him shyly then, eyes flickering back and forth between him and the glittering navel ring. Hyunjin looks to Changbin again, who nods as if in approval, a little confused he thinks, as to why Hyunjin would even have to ask in the first place but really, he knows nothing about what is or isn't okay for children to do.

He shakes away the feeling as Jia smiles happily, touching it lightly with her mouth still open in awe before retreating back with a deeply impressed grin. "It's sparkly. Sophie's sister has one too. Very cool."

"Wait till you see this one," Hyunjin beams, turning around to reveal the floral entwinement on his lower back.

"Wow," Jia exhales, enraptured once more. "Very beautiful."

Hyunjin spins back around then, stomach rupturing with something all-consuming at the sincere, admiring glimmer in her eyes. "You think so?"

"Yes, flowers are very beautiful," Jia smiles, craning her neck around to look at Changbin still sitting by the table, watching them in an attentive interest. "Daddy makes tattoos you know."

"I know." Hyunjin sends him a playful grin then. "He made that one."

Jia glances at her father as if amazed before sitting back down by the table again, Hyunjin following suit. "Really? Did it hurt a lot?"

"No, just a little."

"You got your favorite animal," Jia notes, going slowly back to absentmindedly finish her drawing. "The butterflies."

Soft petals of something in bloom curl around his chest then, a weak smile shaping its way across his lips as if ghosts of something etched by tears unshed. "You remembered." He can't explain the feeling that unfurls within him, he thinks, a strange settling of surprise and emotion anchoring its way heavily into his gut.

Jia only nods, her remembrance probably nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary at all. To Hyunjin it is. "Is it your favorite flower too?"

"Yes, it's called a tiger lily," he says softly, eyes crumpling into gentle curves as she continues to draw, looping the crayon around in meticulous colorful circles.

"That's a cool name," Jia smiles, face glittering with what he can only carve out to be admiration, praise for once etched from a simple, snowy purity. Hyunjin's stomach clenches painfully, his chest rippling with hot, boiled strips of sugar. "You're definitely cooler than Uncle Jisung."

"I knew it" Hyunjin grins, smile forming into a smirk as he shoots a teasing look Changbin's way.

"Oh I agree," He laughs, the sound pleasant and warm as it binds its way to right into his skin. "There was never any doubt about that."

"All done!" Jia announces then, teeth on full display as she beams brightly, fingers holding up the drawing in front of them as if to showcase it, her proud expression nothing really, compared to the steady swell that erupts inside his heart, its strings tugging and tugging and tugging him down to an echo of misty tears he refuses to let fall.

Hyunjin can only stare with a harsh, aching lump lodged in his throat at the smiling cartooned faces of an array of animals all lined up and holding hands - a jellyfish, a puppy, a chipmunk, a tiger, a walrus and at the very end the surprisingly detailed traces of a happy, black kitty cat.

His gut caves in on itself then he thinks, can mark the exact and precise moment in which he lets himself collapse, plummeting head first into an abyss he's never once learned to navigate, the darkness anything but stifling, anything but frightful.

He'd used to think he preferred it, even enjoyed the blood-curling curtains of shadows over anything resembling the sun - its harsh rays always burning and burning and burning him to the dried up pits of the desert-fields, the familiarity of night comfortable, invigorating in its slowly honed gift of seeing clearly through a lack of light.

Things had been steady like that, lungs breathing in the pitches of exhaust until he'd become just as battered, existing solely in billows of smoke.

Now he thinks, with the sluggish turn of the horizon's hue, he's become collapsed, changed, splintered into pieces he can't recognize. The promise of darkness falls upon the sky barren of a prowling hunt for feed, shredding itself instead with a lonesome, creaking dread.

 

-

 

Spending the upcoming days in what he's slowly becoming more confident in labeling as a 'family' despite the foreignness of the word is nothing as he'd foreseen, though Hyunjin isn't quite sure if he'd carried within him any expectations at all.

Through the day he stumbles around in a newfound blindness, his leg aching less and less with each passing hour as his mind falls in the opposite direction - nervous, jittery, unsure of how he's supposed to handle that poisonous three-leafed clover scratching continuously at the inside of his skull, begging to let its venom sear him once again.

After a painstakingly humiliating explanation, or rather a rush to get through it, Hyunjin had managed to somewhat describe his routine to Changbin, eyes fixated firmly upon his own wringing hands as Changbin had listened intently.

Regardless of how strange he'd undoubtedly found it, Changbin had made no such comments, reassuring him instead continuously that yes, he can use as much water as he wants and that yes, he is allowed to clean the kitchen and living room if it helps calm him down and no, he won't accept any payment whatsoever.

Relief surges through him then, the promise of being clean, of things going right steadying him somewhat though his contentment feels fleeting, cutting shorter and shorter each day he spends alone in the apartment.

Of course he tries to distract himself, watching mind-numbing episodes of reality TV, filtering through a couple of mythological books in Jia's room, obsessing unnecessarily over his own reflection in the mirror and yet it isn't that three-leafed clover which always eventually comes to interrupt him then, no, his leg bouncing and jittery in a certain restlessness bound from something else entirely.

His eyes feel heavy. Tired he thinks, unusually sleepy despite waking up so late and yet he can't let them fall shut, his limbs buzzing with an agitated, nervous energy that only makes his cleaning process all the more painful. He can't focus, he knows he can't, not for the life of him, throat dry and scratchy as he keeps biting at his nails in a continuous, steeping anxiety.

He can't, he can't. Not here, not here in the middle of the day, that would be a betrayal to Changbin's trust, to Jia's innocence. Fuck. His stomach flares in a sudden cramp. He should call Jinyoung-no, no he fucking shouldn't. He can handle a week without cocaine, surely. He has to, he has to, he doesn't have a choice, not so as long as he's here in the apartment.

A little couldn't hurt, if just went home, did a line and let it pass away before Changbin and Jia came back? They wouldn't even notice. His head throbs agonizingly. Fuck, yes they would. Well no but, Changbin would. He'd have to see Jinyoung to get it anyway which he certainly didn't want to, but wait-Minho would probably know where to get it. Really it can't be that fucking difficult.

His eyes widen then, head shaking adamantly back and forth as he clutches his stomach painfully. Was his coke necessity really so fucking bad he'd consider going to Minho of all people?

Hyunjin groans, but it does nothing to lessen the craving, the next day just as bad if not worse. He forces himself to leave the apartment then, go for a walk, visit Changbin at the studio, slowly but surely allowing himself the space and room for other people to infiltrate into him.

Chan and Jisung are oddly amusing, his mind feeling light and empty as he leaves along with Changbin to pick up Jia and quickly rushing through dinner before she has dance that day.

The week goes by much faster than he'd like to admit, the speed increasing with the unpredictability and high energy of the evenings, Jia carrying within her a certain bright, scalding ember ready to warm the otherwise cold nooks and hallows of their home, her happiness exuding in tenfold the minute that familiar grin graces her face.

He thinks it's almost comical how contrasting his head becomes from when he's alone to when he's not, his own laughter ringing freely and loudly throughout the walls as he lets the easement of well, - that cursed word striking him once more - family befall him.

He comes to learn that children aren't as complicated as he'd foreseen, or perhaps Jia is just especially easy to read, her face contorting into open, clearly woven expressions of feelings she can't hide, her eyes glinting with a fiery spark every time a rather brazen idea crosses her mind, her eyebrows pinching together cutely with an always accompanied huff as frustration engulfs her, lips forming into an exaggerated, pout whenever she's sad.

Changbin had been right when he'd told him that although Jia tends to get melodramatic, she never stays upset for long, irritation passing through her as if merely part of an ephemeral wind, her joyful, exuberant smile and boundless curiosity invigorated back to life after merely a few minutes.

It's impressive Hyunjin thinks, the way Changbin knows exactly how to handle her, maneuvering around the apartment as if able to predict every little outcome before it happens, catching her right as she starts to stumble, quickly protruding forth a napkin before she has to sneeze, snatching cups and plates out of her hand that are only seconds away from tipping over and spilling.

Perhaps it is something that all parents get used to - Hyunjin wouldn't know, though he finds himself slowly becoming accustomed to weaseling his way around a child without making as many mistakes, still cursing from time to time, still fidgety and anxious around touching things.

Jia is good at noticing, much more observant than he'd thought, but if anything she only seems to find it amusing rather than strange.

He manages to handle his cocaine withdrawals in secret, or at least as secret as he can though he's pretty sure Changbin sees right through him. Somehow he doesn't cave in, only smokes double the amount he usually would out on the balcony followed promptly by lots of mouth wash and gum and doing anything he can to distract him from the temptation of going outside and finding a bar.

He knows there's a good one not far from there. It's Vegas for crying out loud. It wouldn't be difficult, just a drink. Just a nice, simple little drink to take the edge off and he'll be fine. No, he can't do that. Fuck. Well, that he actually can do. And he does. A lot.

Though he doesn't particularly like thinking that he uses sex with Changbin as a distraction, he thinks it really is a win-win - his mind becomes empty then, buzzing instead with hot coils of pleasure to run all the way down his spine as his heart overflows itself with a sense of closeness, of passion he's never felt before.

He'd never understood quite well what people had talked about when mentioning meaningful sex - figured it was most likely a sham to delude themselves with, but he thinks he gets it now, can feel the pounding, erratic rhythm inside his chest as it grows louder and louder and renders him deaf. He can't take it, no, no, no. It's too much, too much.

And though Changbin always starts off sweet and slow and gentle, insisting that they don't have to, that Hyunjin doesn't owe him anything, Hyunjin still knows his place and so he lets himself be greedy, greedy, greedy, falling into patterns of frenzied, jangled wild roots, twisting and turning and bending every way it takes to feel only the feverish stream of his blood and not the tear ducts of his heart.

It's a lie, he knows it is, the momentary absence of sinking into that deep, brewing groan inside his chest a fleeting comfort that will inevitably come crumbling away one day.

It's okay for now, besides it's the minutes spent afterward that really carve their way into his mind anyway, the way he lies there held, protected, touched as if something precious, something too fragile to accidentally let go of. He trusts that Changbin won't. He isn't so sure about himself.

But his doubts always seep away as if mere specks in the ocean foam retreating back to the indistinct, the second Changbin opens his mouth to say something stupid or ridiculous or playful rising small ascents of laughter up his throat until he'd forgotten what he was thinking about entirely.

Time exists in a bubble then, he figures, sloping and carving itself differently from the outside world, sluggish and bright as it turns his movements to something slow and mild - a poor insect stuck in the heady clutch of a pooling strip of syrup.

He doesn't want to go back to work, doesn't want the days to stretch to something more than the strange, muffled hours he spends with both Changbin and Jia, their presence like a beacon to something just as equally shiny as it is terrifying waiting in the distance.

Sleep comes easier to him then, mind often drifting away into dreamscape without thinking of the time, of that wretched number whose curse he's now broken, Bunny clutched safely and tightly against his chest each night. The anchor of Changbin there by his side is just as comforting, if not more, their limbs entangled together creating a steady, soothing rhythm to ripple across his heart.

At times it feels as if he's been molded exactly for the simple act of being held in his arms, his mind empty, happy, a heavy sensation of blinking tears slithering their way right into him. No, he thinks, perhaps he's wrong. Happiness doesn't mean emptiness, his body always full and brimming with a thousand things he can't understand each night, lips falling eagerly into the addiction of kissing, kissing, kissing, touching, touching, touching.

Jia finds out about their relationship - the word still leaves a sudden jolt in his heart every time he thinks of it - by accident, cornering him on the way to the bathroom one evening as she'd leaned in to his face mischievously, eyes buzzing with an accusing, secretive excitement.

"I saw you kiss Daddy," she'd teased then, questioning him for about twenty minutes afterward about whether or not that meant they were getting married, whether he was making Changbin buy him expensive things and insisting that he should when he'd said no and at last concluding it all by proudly announcing how she knew all about boyfriend and boyfriend and girlfriend and girlfriend and that she wasn't confused in the slightest.

Having grown increasingly comfortable around him, she'd made sure to loudly groan after that if she ever caught them kissing, - although displaying affection in front of Jia proved difficult and unnatural for both them - proceeded by a rant on how absolutely yucky kissing was.

Despite her apparent distaste of kissing, she seemed not to mind the idea at all, in fact she even told him once before getting ready for bed that she was happy he was there, excited even, Hyunjin's heart softening into giant puddle of something terrifying right then and there.

As the weekend approaches, Hyunjin revels in the lazy mornings spent interwoven within the sheets with Changbin by his side, the bed like a cocoon of hazy, misty fog to trap him with, rendering him immobile and useless for anything else.

That is, of course, until Jia's very much higher level of energy compared to theirs comes jumping into the room as well, demanding to eat breakfast and then do this and that and everything all over again.

And because it's the weekend, she gets to eat cereal, to which Hyunjin gladly joins her, apparently sharing the same favorite as hers, the two of them whispering secretively about Changbin right in front of him as he eats another kind, laughter rising in quiet hushes each time Changbin groans. ("You know introducing you two together was the biggest mistake of my life. Now I'm just getting bullied every day." Jia cackles evilly then.)

It's a Saturday when Hyunjin meets Changbin's mother for the first time, well, properly at least, the memory of when she'd accidentally seen him half-dressed still burning humiliatingly into his mind.

Thankfully Changbin takes the day off then, seemingly having decided not to let Hyunjin have to spend time alone with her and Jia, the prospect of meeting her far more horrifying than meeting Jia had been.

Jia clambers into a hug with her the moment she walks into the apartment, Hyunjin's stomach simmering with tense nerves as he stands there rigid and awkward, Changbin right next to him just as anxious, though continuously sending him small, supportive smiles.

Hyunjin appreciates the effort even though he knows the entire ordeal is as new and daunting for Changbin as it is for him. He'd been warned sufficiently the night before that his mother could be, well, a little intimidating despite meaning well and although Hyunjin had always considered himself to be quite intimidating as well, the moment Changbin's mother looks right at him he feels anything but.

Instantly he can tell something is wrong, though it's difficult to discern. There is something off, something suspicious he thinks in the way she scans him quickly up and down, smile polite and well-mannered and entirely ingenuine.

"My name is Sora," she introduces herself, her long sleek dark hair falling in strands just like Jia's, her eyes sharply cut and honed just like her son's. Hyunjin swallows nervously. "Nice to meet you now that you're wearing pants."

Hyunjin's mouth drops open then, heart seizing in fear as he stutters for what to say, Jia coming to his rescue like a guardian angel as she peers up at Sora mischievously. "Your name is grandma!"

"Yah," Sora tuts, shaking her head in disbelief as Jia laughs, clearly delighted by her reaction. "Every time she calls me that I feel ancient. I'm only forty-five."

"That's old, grandma," Jia snickers, Changbin laughing quietly right next to him. Sora crouches down to her then, pinching her nose playfully as Jia starts to giggle. "Hey who raised you to be so rude? Your daddy?"

Jia nods coyly, shooting her father a mischievous smirk. "You should yell at him."

"You definitely got that from your grandma, not me," Changbin emphasizes the word with a teasing punch as Jia starts snickering once again, Sora standing back up and morphing her expression into one of a clearly feigned innocence.

"Me? But I'm so sweet and nice."

Jia cackles loudly then as both Changbin and Sora start bickering back and forth, their relationship clearly a lot more close and casual than what Hyunjin was used to, though once again he supposes his own mother was hardly a measurement for how parents interacted with their children. Or at least he hoped it wasn't.

Jia tugs at his sleeve suddenly, gesturing for him to lean down as she whispers into his ear, providing him with yet another slip of information she seems very excited to give. "Grandma is scary, not sweet. But only Daddy is scared of her, not me."

Hyunjin looks at her then, mouth pressed firmly together as his eyes shine with worry. "I think I am too, a little bit."

Jia only seems to think it's funny, smiling in amusement before taking his hand gently in her own and giving him a firm look of assurance. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Hyunjin's heart melts at that, Jia turning back around as she drags him by the hand, introducing him confidently to Sora who'd just finished lightly whacking Changbin in the back of the head for some reason. Jia grins brightly, pushing him forward as Hyunjin resists the urge to bolt. "Grandma, this is Hyunjinnie."

Sora laughs fondly, giving Jia a brief look of adoration before diverting her attention back to him. "Is that what she calls you?"

"Or Kitty Cat," Jia announces proudly, giving him a shared, playful glint. Hyunjin can't help but smile back at her.

"Oh you gave him an animal already, huh?" The tone with which she speaks is laced with that same parental amusement he's becoming more and more familiar with, though her eyebrow quirks upward slightly, its tilt not lasting longer than a millisecond before she carves her face back into the neutral, polite expression she'd worn right as she came in.

Hyunjin can only laugh back nervously, Changbin taking over the conversation from there as Sora thankfully insists on making dinner and leaving the two of them to play with Jia, to which Jia very excitedly hashes out a very elaborate heist story with her little plastic ocean animals, once again confirming his theory that their friendship is really just a cover for a crime ring.

Playing is fun, Jia is fun, fun means no thinking, no stressing, no brewing nerves simmering from the insides that scratch and scratch and scratch against his skull until he thinks he's going to scream. Fuck, he needs a cigarette.

He never gets the chance, though supposes it's for the best, doubts that Sora's impression of him would become better if she saw him anxiously smoking a whole pack out on the balcony.

Dinner is strange, he thinks, much quieter than usual, Jia chattering around energetically as always as both Changbin and his mother follow up with attentive questions. Hyunjin tries, he really does, to somehow immerse himself within the carefree exhales he always manages to find within both Changbin and Jia and yet he can't, Sora sending him rapid, speedy glances every now and then, her face twitching with something he can't understand.

Maybe it's his nervous, shaky hands as they waited for far too long before touching a fucking fork or the way he keeps spacing out and looking at the wall every few minutes or maybe it's the way Changbin keeps sending him worried little glances as if there's something wrong with him which there clearly fucking is and he certainly doesn't want his mother to pick up on that.

Or maybe, a small voice mutters gratingly in the back of his head, maybe it's the fact that her son is dating a washed up, dirty little stripper who's been used so many times he might as well be a fucking public port-a-potty. Safe to say, the rest of the night goes by painstakingly slow, Jia's eventual departure of going to bed so terrifying Hyunjin makes up some lame excuse of how he's feeling unusually tired that night.

It isn't entirely unbelievable, Jia somehow having managed to sneak her way into staying up until ten o'clock since it's a Saturday, Hyunjin happily slithering away as he bids a rigid good night to the both of them, breathing out heavily in relief as soon as he shuts his way into Changbin's bedroom.

The relief doesn't last long, however, only an hour or so passing with him going tediously through his phone and scratching gently at Bunny's head until he eventually needs to go to the bathroom, heart pounding heavily as soon as he's finished and out in the hallway leading into the living room, the sound of slightly frenzied, raised voices emanating from the other side.

Hyunjin sits down quietly with his back to the wall and knees drawn to his chest in the hallway, the closed door rendering the sound quieter and more muffled and yet he almost wishes it was thicker, can still hear the disgruntled tone of words that filter straight into his gut like a sick, twisting blade.

"Changbin, I've respected your choices and I've kept quiet, but really we need to talk about this-"

Sora's voice gets cut off then, Changbin sounding exhausted before he even opens his mouth. "I already know what you're going to say and I don't need to hear it."

"I'm just concerned. For you, for Jia. Do you really want her to potentially go through something like that again? As if Hana didn't do enough damage?"

Hyunjin's stomach sinks, dread seeping into his chest as he draws his knees closer.

Changbin sounds angry then, though coming to his defense feels like some poorly told joke, he thinks. Changbin's mother is right. "Hyunjin is nothing like Hana, Mom. Nothing."

He thinks he can hear Sora sigh frustratedly then, his fingers scratching at the top of his knees as if hoping to distract himself. He can't. "It doesn't matter if he's like Hana or not, even if he's just a sliver similar you should know better. You have a responsibility now, one you've upheld very well these past four years and I'd hate to see it come crumbling down just for some stripper."

She grumbles something then, voice distressed and insistent. "And don't even get me started on that magazine."

Hyunjin digs harshly into his skin, limbs freezing as dreaded panic begins to spread itself all throughout him. Changbin answers his question for him, words harsh and bewildered as they resound from the other side of the door. "How the fuck do you even know about that?"

"They sell it at those shitty drug stores, I saw it!" Sora answers, tone growing louder and more stressed. "He's on the cover of a porn magazine-"

"No it's not, it's not trashy like that-"

"Adult entertainment or whatever you wanna call it, there were pictures of him licking a gun like a-"

"You bought it?" Changbin hisses, thankfully cutting her off from whatever she was about to say, Hyunjin's heart hammering uncomfortably in his chest. He feels as if he's a child again getting scolded, his hands trembling as he clutches them against his stomach. He should've brought Bunny.

"No, of course not," she says, as if the idea was completely preposterous. "I saw a guy reading it and I gave him five bucks to flip through it quickly."

"Oh cause that makes so much more sense. Why the fuck would you do that-"

Hyunjin exhales in shaky breaths, Sora interrupting Changbin determinedly, voice firm and unwavering as she speaks. "Because I'm nosy and I want to know who my son is dating, especially since he seemed to think it was appropriate to start bringing gun-licking strippers home when he already has a five year old daughter!"

"Don't talk about him like that." Changbin is angry too, he can tell, though his words are laced with something quiet and deadly, something that commands to be heard. Hyunjin bites his lip, unsure of how he's supposed to feel, a small ray of fondness unfurling within. "I care about him, okay? I'm not just messing around here."

"Look, I'm not stupid." Sora sighs and Hyunjin can imagine what her face looks like then, those inescapable beads of disappointment swirling around in her eyes. "I quite understand the appeal, he's obviously very beautiful and I'm sure he knows his way around-"

"Stop." He's pretty sure Changbin is gritting his teeth from how knife-cutting his words are wielded, slicing through the air with small whistles left behind. "I like him for him, not just his looks or whatever. Seriously, how poorly do you think of me?"

Sora sighs once more, her anger receding slightly, replacing itself instead with a defeating severity whose bounds he knows nothing of. "I'm sorry. Really. Changbin, I know you're not shallow like that, I just can't help but be weary of your judgement of character."

Hyunjin isn't sure which had been worse, would almost prefer it if she'd just call him a whore with spiky, venomous teeth and leave.

"Hyunjin's a good person," Changbin says, voice laced with nothing but sincerity. Hyunjin's stomach starts twisting once more, guilt punching through him in waves. "And Jia adores him, they get along really well."

"Exactly." He thinks he can hear the first ripples of fear within in her then. "I don't want anything to happen. Can you imagine how heartbroken Jia would be? She's growing attached to him, Changbin, you need to think about that. Don't string Jia along into this unless you're serious."

A small pause then. Hyunjin thinks he can see within it the entirety of his fate being tossed into the air. "And I mean really serious."

"I am," Changbin insists, voice bleeding with emotion. Hyunjin starts scratching his knees again. "I am really serious. I've never been so serious about anything."

For a while no one says anything, silence protruding from the other side of the door as if barren of any people whatsoever until a small, hesitant sigh at last slips through, the sound tumbling to the floor as if falling to the admittance of defeat. "Alright...well, what do you know about him then?"

"What do you mean?" Changbin asks, Hyunjin's heart hammering wildly now.

"He has no issues whatsoever?" Sora sounds tired then, weary of discussing things she's already decided in her head. Hyunjin wishes he could be angry, outraged even in the way she talks about him but he can't. He can't.

"He's a stripper and some Playboy model but completely mentally stable, no bad habits at all? I'm not dumb, okay. Don't get me wrong, I don't think less of anyone because of their occupation but I know those environments aren't exactly all sunshine and rainbows. That's no secret, is it?"

Changbin says nothing, Hyunjin leaning his neck back to look up at the ceiling, the bright illuminated lights creating small whirring dots amongst his vision the longer he lets them sear right into him.

"So?" She persists, clearly not letting up without an answer. "Tell me then. Does he drink? Do drugs?"

Changbin hesitates, Hyunjin can tell. In the end he supposes it would be too much to ask of him to lie to his own mother, the woman who helped him through everything. "Well...yes but-"

"Changbin." Hyunjin almost flinches from the venom with which Sora spits, can hardly begin to imagine the despair, the desperation that fuels her.

"I'm handling it, okay?" Changbin says, voice low and difficult to make through from the other side of the door. Still, he hears it. He doesn't know whether he wishes he did or not.

"It's not like you can just become sober at the drop of a hat, you know that. Give him a chance, you've barely even tried getting to know him." Wait, what? Does Changbin expect him to get sober? No, no, no, fuck. His leg starts to bounce. "I care about him. He makes me happy and I wouldn't ever do something I thought was bad for Jia, come on. You're just gonna have to trust me."

Sora mutters something he can't make out then, her tone changing to something woven with a lot more emotion, a lot more fear. "I know I've been harsh...I'm just worried about you two. You've already been through so much, I don't want you to get pulled back into something..."

Hyunjin bites down harshly on the side of his thumb, stomach clenching in an overbearing agony.

"I'm not gonna relapse," Changbin assures her, the words steady and firm. "I promise."

Sora breathes in deeply as his teeth tears into his flesh once more. "At least he can't get pregnant," she mutters, huffing quietly as her tone hardens resolutely. "I'll choose to trust you this time but I swear to God if you do-"

"I won't."

Hyunjin's heart squeezes so tightly then he thinks it might come bursting out any second, the scattered imprints of the panic that had seized him when he was younger coursing through his veins as if freshly born, hands sweating, throat constricting, teeth digging harshly into his thumb, his mother hissing and spitting in rage about everything she loathed with his existence, his eyes stinging from the strain of not letting any tears fall. How she hated it when he cried. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he needs to get out of here-

Hyunjin's hand jumps against his chest the second his eyes fall back down the corridor, fingers seizing the fabric of his shirt in alarm as shock surges through him, Jia treading toward him from her bedroom in small, soundless steps.

She gives him a playful smile, sitting down next to him as Hyunjin tries desperately to steady his breathing. Clad in her usual, sea-themed pajamas, Jia peers up at him amusedly, no doubt wondering why he's sitting there like some child in time-out.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Hyunjin asks, recognizing with a thankful sigh of relief that Changbin and his mother have significantly lowered their voices, having moved perhaps, farther into the kitchen. Nothing can really be heard then, only the grumbling noise of a clearly invested discussion.

"Shouldn't you?" Hyunjin looks back to Jia then, her wide, pearly eyes staring up at him curiously.

Hyunjin smiles. "I'm a grown up. I can go to bed whenever I want."

Jia frowns, looking around the corridor as if to reassure herself of whatever she'd been thinking before whispering sincerely, eager to be in the know. "Then why are you hiding?"

Hyunjin bites his lip for a second, uncertainty billowing through him. How much is he really supposed to say? Still lying seems wrong, a betrayal even he thinks, of her trust. "Because...your dad and grandma are fighting."

"Really?" Jia looks surprised at that, interest peaking considerably. "About what?"

He hesitates, his stomach gnawing uncomfortably. Yet Jia peers into him wholly and completely focused, engrossed in his every word as if never even once considering that they might come from a place of deceit.

He supposes that comes later, when they grow up and understand all the fabricated stories that swim around them daily. Hyunjin doesn't need to give time a harder push than it already has. "About...me."

Jia definitely looks confused then, eyebrows scrunched together as if bewildered. "Why?"

Hyunjin thinks for a second, tapping his knees anxiously with his fingers. "Your grandma doesn't like me very much, I think."

"Why?" Jia asks again, the crease in her forehead only deepening as she scoots closer to him, the side of her legs brushing against his as she continues to gaze into him attentively.

"She's just...worried," he says, mind scrambling frantically to outline his words in a way that could possibly make sense to Jia. "She doesn't really know me so...she's scared I might be bad for your dad. And you."

"Why?" Jia shakes her head then, completely perplexed. "You're funny! And super cool and daddy likes you a lot."

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at that, smiling down at her curiously. "Oh yeah?"

Jia nods earnestly, passionate it seems, to convey this knowledge she carries. Hyunjin bites back a fond laugh. "Oh yes. Because he is always staring at you and smiling at you and laughing at things you say. And when a boy does that, that he means he likes you."

"Really?" Hyunjin grins. "Where'd you learn that? Sophie's sister?"

Jia's serious expression falters then, her mouth forming into a lighthearted beam as she nods. "Yes and she knows very well because she has two boyfriends. So that way you know she is telling the truth."

"Oh I believe her," Hyunjin laughs before Jia huffs dramatically, leaning in closer to him as if to tell him something important.

"Daddy is always saying that I shouldn't listen to her but how can he know, he is not a girl!" Her arms flap to the side as if exasperated, eyes wide in frustration as Hyunjin nods back.

"I think she sounds fun," he grins, to which Jia beams before turning serious once again, placing a hand on his leg in severity as she perches up on her knees in front of him.

"She also said that if you want to make him obsessed with you," she pauses quickly then, to make sure he follows what she's saying, "that means to like someone suuuper much," Hyunjin nods gratefully for the clarification before she moves on, "then you have to do this."

Hyunjin watches in a wide-eyed anticipation as she very smoothly, very dramatically bats her eyelashes, flicks her hair over her shoulder and shoots him a kiss while flirtatiously winking. Hyunjin can't help the laugh of incredulity that washes over him then, Jia grinning in satisfaction as she sits back down again.

"Oh I'm definitely doing that." Hyunjin sends her a grin as he tries to steady his laughter. "Thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome," she says, smile extremely pleased as she slumps her body tiredly against the wall. Hyunjin peers at her curiously, conscious of the time.

"So why are you awake?" He whispers, Jia's limbs drooping in fatigue.

"Just couldn't sleep." She shrugs, a soft yawn escaping her right after. Hyunjin smiles, the panic from before having dissipated entirely. "Can you read me a story?"

"Sure." His lips tug upward even further then, the answer slipping out of his mouth before he even gets the chance to let it mull inside his brain. Happy, Jia stands up somewhat sluggishly before pulling his hand along to his bedroom, Hyunjin leaving the door slightly ajar as he'd seen Changbin do when putting her to bed.

She guides him eagerly to her bright My Little Pony sheets that stand in a sharp contrast to the otherwise consistent ocean theme around the room - he'd already been introduced to each one of the characters - before pulling forward a book and handing it to him.

Hyunjin lies down next to her as the soft glow from the starfish-shaped nightlight illuminates the pages, Jia listening intently to the story of a sensitive bull who'd rather smell the flowerbeds than engage in bullfights, her head drooping on his shoulder after a few minutes as her eyelids start to flutter.

Hyunjin continues reading with a gentle, steady swell in his heart until he's certain she's fallen asleep, eyes closed peacefully and mouth parted slightly open in a secure, anchored breathing.

The smile that twists itself upon his face comes with the effortlessness of the breeze, a wispy gale of simpleness, of something natural, something that never has the displeasure of having to first carve itself into his mind. It's nothing special, nothing special - to him it is. Hyunjin cherishes those moments, when breathing is easy.

His eyes linger on her sleeping face for a few moments longer, a delicate yet cavernous fondness curling within his gut. He'd watch her for longer, for all night even without feelings his limbs twitch once with the restlessness to run, run, run - but as he sits there, Jia's head still on his shoulder, he feels another gaze upon him, his eyes meeting Changbin's instantly as he watches intently from the doorway, a misty, almost ghostlike expression upon his face.

He smiles the moment he notices Hyunjin staring back, Hyunjin's stomach rupturing once more in a thousand fluttering wings.

Carefully he manages to maneuver his way out of the bed without waking Jia, taking small, noiseless steps toward Changbin who wraps his arms around his waist instantly. The argument echoes faintly in his head then, but he forgets it soon enough, disappearing along the line of all other thought the moment Changbin leans in, brushing his lips against his in the momentary immortality of a sweet, enflamed kiss.

Hyunjin grins once he pulls away, sneaking his hands up Changbin's chest as he tries not to let the fond, constellation-scattered reflections in his eyes tear its way straight into his flesh. They do. Right there, right then, he doesn't mind the slight ache it brings.

Notes:

hyunjin finally bonding with jia and getting more comfortable with his role as a family 🥺 what do you think changbin’s mother will think?

 

the comeback was sooo amazing omg!! their best one yet i think, i’m absolutely obsessed 🤩 thank you so much to everyone reading, see you on thursday💕

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 14: All American Sugar

"You're in it for the kill, am I right?"

Yes, yes he is. Hyunjin likes the taste of blood.

"Good. Because I know a city with thousands of people begging to die."

Hyunjin loves a good slaughter, especially in the form of sturdy, unyielding muscles, the rich redolence of an expensive, lush-scented narcissus flower and the bitter taste of a Manhattan as it salivates its way straight into his own tongue.

His mouth eats away into the coiling promises of the one on top of his as if religious - passionate, feverish, body doused in a wakening, ravenous hunger.

Jinyoung whisks him away in broad daylight, the sun filtering harshly down the tanned creases of his forehead as Hyunjin stares impatiently from the passenger seat, gut ruminated in the unsettling excitement of leaving, of at last letting his eyes linger achingly upon the horizon to which the car plummets straight into. Head first. Nose first, he thinks, as it burns deliciously with each line he snorts on the dirtied countertops of gas station restrooms.

("Ever been in a Convertible?" No, no he hasn't, the wind wisping through his long strands of hair as he leans dangerously over the ledge, arching his back with his eyes pleasantly shut as he lets the lulling fog of dizziness snake its way right into him. Eventually they settle glintingly upon the man driving, his eyes scattered distractedly between him and the road.

Hyunjin smirks and drops back upside down again, curving his back as he lets out a delirious, pornographic sounding moan. The car swerves just slightly then. Hyunjin laughs. Jinyoung tells him that he's fucking crazy. There's a grin on his face as he says it. Hyunjin knows that to him, that's a good thing.)

The road to Vegas is not too far from where he'd settled flimsily within the seedy panels of a decaying strip club and yet he'd lived his existence there blissfully unaware of the bejeweled cluster of sin only hours away from him.

Still they stop by a motel, a nice, Spanish pueblo-styled coral rock with surprisingly sound proof walls. It's good, he thinks. Jinyoung is commanding without being condescending, taking what he wants without stealing and indulges in pleasures without ever feeling guilty.

He lives life as if starved, yet still fueled entirely by control. He fucks like it too. And Hyunjin loves, as he discovers there upon the ashen taste of a cigarette between his lips, his body sore and buzzing in the stickiness of Santa Fe-woven wildflower sheets, a man that gives him what he wants without expecting anything in return.

In short, the essence of Jinyoung. Someone that is nothing if not insatiable. And insatiable he is, waltzing through time as if unbothered by its ticking clock, speeding through it still as if unbound by the illusion of limitations, of definitions.

Hyunjin doesn't know how he manages to do both at the same time, doesn't know much about him at all, only the way his muscles move and tongue twists, the firm way in which he speaks and the strange way in which he yearns to listen.

Hyunjin doesn't even know where he's from, what he does. A businessman, he thinks. With ideas brimming up to the surface just waiting to explode. Hyunjin doesn't pry. He doesn't want Jinyoung to start doing the same.

The night the wheels come surging through the winding jungle of Las Vegas lights, Hyunjin's eyes reflect within them the sparkly, greedy amazement they shine with - wide, ghostlike.

His jaw drops open then, the veiling darkness like a comforting dome of promised sins, each flashing billboard and large, towering diamond-honed building barreling right through him as he tries desperately to catch onto them.

He's too slow, and yet it dawns on him then and there that he has all the time in the world. This is where he'll live now.

Hyunjin screams then, loudly and entirely too motivated by the buzzing high of cocaine, voice laced with the exploding stars of excitement as he pushes himself up to his knees and leans across the support of his seat to get a better view. Jinyoung laughs, amused, maybe even a little endeared.

Hyunjin doesn't care, doesn't listen either when he tells him to sit back down again before he accidentally falls out the car. His head spins, eyes round and undeserving. He's never seen anything like this before.

Vegas is, as it turns out, not only different from anything he's ever seen or lived, but is different from anywhere else in the world too. Special, Jinyoung tells him, amazing and addicting and weird as fuck. Hyunjin laughs, rolling the words over and over again upon his tongue. Sin City.

Perfect for him, he thinks, as he burrows himself into the upcoming nights like an eager, buzzing firefly trying to make its way up to its brothers in the sky, unaware, uncaring probably, that the stars are far too removed for the immortal. At least he isn't alone.

Being with Jinyoung is like being the side character to some glamorous, fire-snared movie that curves its way tight and burning around his body until the sweet luxury of easy exhales becomes addictive. He knows everything, every person, every place, every corner of the world worth knowing, dragging him into only the best that Vegas has to offer.

It doesn't matter, he learns, whether the best is upon the extravagantly carved marble of some outlandishly big hotel Jinyoung probably has shares in or in the seedy backdrop of a low, run down bar with neon signs that flicker on and off with the consistency of the deteriorating.

Jinyoung takes him there regardless, assertive and charming and for once Hyunjin doesn't mind being told what to do. It's attractive, he thinks, being strung along and served a promising platter of having a good time, a little dizzying even.

It's even more thrilling when he eventually starts talking back, the two of them arguing constantly, obsessively. Jinyoung tells him that he's childish, irrational. Hyunjin only shouts back that he's stupid, which in hindsight he realizes maybe just proves his point but he doesn't care, Jinyoung always fucks the anger out of him anyway.

In a way he thinks he might almost start to resemble the role of a trophy wife without any of the negative expectations thrust his way in return. Shown off like a showbird, free, pretty silver tins of coke, - the purest, best quality, straight from Ecuador Jinyoung had told him once - unrestrained sex, the privileges of someone else's money. It's perfect, Hyunjin thinks.

Jinyoung doesn't care if he blows him off one night to do something else, doesn't care if he fucks around, if he flirts with other men, doesn't care if he screams and break things in anger when he gets too hopped up on something. Hyunjin doesn't pay that much attention to what drugs he takes, accepting them always eagerly with a captivating smile glittered upon his face.

In casinos, Jinyoung always makes him blow the dices in his hand - his little lucky charm, he says - before rolling a perfect seven and then lifting him up excitedly as the whole table cheers, Hyunjin's shriek dying in his throat as laughter replaces it.

Jinyoung teaches him how to play them all - blackjack, poker, Texas hold 'em, how to calculate the odds of roulette. Gambling is fun, especially since Jinyoung is never condescending when explaining things he doesn't know, never viewing him as less than, as beneath him.

Hyunjin is good at poker he finds out, excellent at tricking people, at putting on a show, a pearly little lie. Jinyoung is the only one who always calls his bluff, seeing right through him. The realization would probably be nauseating he thinks, if he weren't drunk most of the time.

Still he finds a certain addiction in the way Jinyoung comes to look at him - not as if he's a mythical, uncatchable illusion or dream to yearn for from afar, but something real and dirty and right there for the taking. And Hyunjin doesn't mind it, loves it actually because Jinyoung's different from the rest, because he always takes without stealing or buying. Because he can. Because he's allowed to. Because Hyunjin wants him to.

When trying on new outfits for the club - the space large and intimidating and constantly being installed with expensive constructions - he does so slowly and teasingly in the lush, wide private rooms. Jinyoung certainly doesn't mind being an audience - he needs to practice, after all.

Hyunjin grins, the dim light bewitching as it halos around him and cascades down his collarbones. Jinyoung stares at him like there are burning candles in his eyes, lighting up the darkness, scorching marks into the day. Hyunjin isn't sure then, who holds within them the mighty swell of power.

Maybe that isn't how it works, not here, not in this blistering city. And if this is what freedom brings, - being desired, being let go, being spun around some dirty bar floor until he stumbles away dizzy - he wishes he would have met Jinyoung a long, long time ago. Hyunjin bites his lip as he stares him down, the way the pull of his teeth aches just slightly his newest obsession.

He's in it for the kill, Jinyoung had said. Yes, yes he is, though he isn't so sure who it is he's killing. Maybe that's the point Jinyoung had never bothered to make, maybe begging for death is simply something that had struck him the moment he'd sat up in that car, neck craning around in amazement of his newfound home.

Inevitable, a mere part of his flesh the second the city sucked him in. Hyunjin doesn't ask him to explain. He loves a dull pain, loves the stretch of his limbs, the taste of blood. Especially, he thinks, when it's his own.

 

-

"And what about that one?" Hyunjin grins, fingers tracing the outline of an extending, intricately drawn spiderweb, his hands palming the illustration gently upon the lower left side of the stomach it's been etched into.

Changbin only gives him a lopsided smile, eyes flitting amusedly over the wandering hands grabbing all over his torso from where he's leaned back against the headboard, forehead furrowing in deep thought as Hyunjin eagerly awaits an answer.

"I thought it looked cool," is all he says, breaking out into a grin as Hyunjin groans, leaning forward slightly from where he's perched upon his lap, a small pout gracing his lips.

"You said that about the last one too."

Changbin laughs, face shimmering with endearment. "Because it's true! Not all my tattoos have some crazy, deep story behind it."

Hyunjin gives him a doubtful look, raising an eyebrow as if not believing him, Changbin shaking his head resolutely as a teasing smile graces his lips. "I'm sorry to disappoint. I wasn't expected to be groped all morning and questioned about my tattoos." He laughs, the sound sending ripples down his spine. "Next time I'll come better prepared."

Hyunjin only narrows his eyes, determined not to give up as he drags his finger and loops it around the curved ink of a small horseshoe right below his shoulder. "What about this one? That means luck, right?"

Changbin's eyes soften as he looks to what he's pointing at, eyes shimmering with fondness. "Yeah, I got that after Jia was born and she was declared healthy enough to bring home. The doctor said we were very lucky, so..."

Hyunjin smiles, tracing the tattoo gingerly once more. "Is it your favorite?"

Changbin thinks for a moment then, forehead creased in contemplation before he sits up a bit straighter, extending his inner forearm to point at a small, very simply, almost shakily drawn outline of a jellyfish. "This one is my favorite for sure."

Hyunjin gasps softly as he looks at it, the childlike way in which the animal has been scribbled entirely reminiscent of some of the drawings hung up on the fridge. "I never noticed that one." It's cute, straightforward. A certain charm to its plainness. Hyunjin beams. "Did Jia draw that?"

"Yeah," Changbin grins, staring at it affectionately before peering back up at him, the curve of his mouth like a jab to Hyunjin's gut each time it carves its way in. "We agreed to do matching tattoos, and I promised I'd make hers when she got older although somehow I doubt she'll still want a walrus on her skin by the time she's eighteen..."

Hyunjin laughs at that, eyes crinkling in amusement. "Why are you a walrus anyway? All the other animals I sort of understood, but not yours."

"It's stupid." Changbin shakes his head, voice laced with nothing but warmth. "When she was three she was really fussy about eating. Sometimes she'd just start crying out of nowhere and to make her laugh, I'd put two chopsticks in my mouth, you know, to pretend like they were my teeth. Like a walrus and their tusks."

Hyunjin giggles, dragging his hands down his chest again as he rocks forward. "I need to see that."

The light streams gently through the thin curtains, the stretching of a lazy morning weaving its way upon them as Changbin promises that he'll show him next time, Hyunjin humming contentedly through the slow passing of the clock.

The Sunday morning feels like the slow running of syrup down his leg, his limbs glued to the sheets as he dreads the fall of the evening. He doesn't want to work, knows his leg has healed enough by now, knows the restlessness in him is begging, itching for something familiar to cool his skin with.

Changbin had agreed it was probably time to go back, though it hadn't stopped the small whine lodged in the back of his throat to tumble forward.

"How'd you get into tattooing?" Hyunjin asks after a while, still running his hands addictively up and down Changbin's bare torso, biting his lip as he peers into him inquisitively.

Changbin tilts his head to the side as he thinks, hands drawing small, soothing circles upon his waist, fingers skimming down to trace the laced hem of his underwear hypnotically. Hyunjin's heart preens, reveling in the simplicity of something so domestic. Yeah. He definitely needs to get back to work.

"After I dropped out of school and was working minimum wage jobs," he starts, Hyunjin digging his palm absentmindedly into his hardened stomach, "Chan and Jisung would visit me during my breaks to smoke." He pauses then, a worried look overcoming him as if unsure of what to say next. "I don't know if I should be telling you this but...Jisung's got a history of anxiety and depression."

Hyunjin stills, dragging fingers coming to a halt as he listens attentively, eyes blinking into him curiously. Changbin's hands continue, nonetheless, as they flutter their way across his lower back, slowly, soothingly.

Still he speaks with an air of unusual gravity. "He used to be bullied pretty badly and he ended up...you know, hurting himself. One day during one of my breaks, he told us, and showed us the scars he'd kept hidden from us for so many years. He said he was tired of always wearing long sleeves and hiding them, but he was too scared to show them publicly. So, we started drawing on them."

He smiles then, as if the memory passes through him. "It was kind of silly, but it just became like...a thing. They'd visit me during my shifts and we'd just start doodling all across Jisung's arm. It was honestly pretty fun and eventually we got more creative. Chan began planning out elaborate designs the day before and brought them with him. We filled up Jisung's arms pretty quickly, of course back then it was just pen ink, but as soon as Jisung was all inked up, it was Chan's turn and then mine. Somehow it just stuck and we kept trying to one up each other with who could come up with the coolest design."

Hyunjin smiles softly at the small grin upon Changbin's face, fingers moving back to giddily dig their way into his skin. "Eventually we started designing you know, actual work and that's when we became obsessed with this idea of owning a tattoo studio together. This was when Hana was pregnant, when I was trying to get sober." Changbin grimaces then, something unpleasant flashing through his head no doubt.

"The whole tattoo process takes time. We had to each complete our own apprenticeship first before getting our license, but shit hit the fan when Jia was born. Chan and Jisung managed to complete theirs, but I was off the rails again. I didn't get mine until like two years later and then we worked separately for a while trying to save up money to buy a studio. Chan and Jisung worked at other tattoo shops, I was a bodyguard. Mostly clubs, some hotels."

"How'd you do that?" Hyunjin hums attentively, impressed, guilty, Sora's words from the night before whispering tauntingly in the back of his head. Changbin had already been through so much, pulled himself together. Hyunjin's stomach burns, chest twisting with nerves.

"When I was getting sober, after Jia was born, I was really into exercising," Changbin says, the hold around his waist tightening for a quick second. "I think I channeled a lot of my rage that way. I wasn't exactly a stranger to getting into fights and so...I got my certificate pretty quickly. I did my apprenticeship afterward. Sriracha Ink is relatively new. We do pretty well, not bad for a Vegas tattoo studio. It's pretty competitive here. I worked there exclusively for almost two years until now when our landlord increased the rent. So I decided to bodyguard part-time."

"Well I'm glad you did," he grins, leaning down upon his chest as Changbin runs his hands relaxingly up and down his back, his mouth tugging upward to mirror the teasing smirk he wields.

"Me too," he says, kissing him slowly as Hyunjin pushes his tongue into his mouth, gut coiling excitingly with glistening embers as he trails his fingers further and further down his body, Changbin suddenly gripping both his hands to stop them before they reach too low. Hyunjin pulls back with a petulant pout, Changbin only tilting his head to the side as he grins.

"Before you do any of that," he starts, eyes shimmering with a teasing mirth, "you need to answer me what your tattoo means. I think it's only fair, since you've been interrogating me all morning."

Hyunjin's pout deepens, eyes blinking up innocently as he tries to wiggle his hands out of Changbin's grip, unsuccessful, as always. "You'd rather listen to some silly story than let me suck your dick?"

Changbin's eyes widen, shaking his head as Hyunjin smirks. "You can't just say shit like that, Jesus. And actually, I am very curious about your butterfly tattoo. You never answered my question the first time I asked you."

Hyunjin clicks his tongue for a second, laughing quietly. "There's nothing special about it, honestly. Jinyoung and I were arguing about tattoos once because he very specifically told me I couldn't get one." He sits up straight then, trying to recall the memory.

"He thought they were 'cheap' and would 'take away from my beauty.'" Hyunjin rolls his eyes as he air quotes Jinyoung's words, Changbin listening to him attentively. "I don't know why but it pissed me off so much I decided to get it just to prove him wrong."

Hyunjin shrugs then, Changbin peering up at him in anticipation. "And?" He asks, Hyunjin leaning back down again as a satisfied smirk carves its way upon his face. "And I did."

"Yes, sir," Changbin agrees, grinning widely before letting out an exaggerated huff, face twisting into a serious expression as if something causes him a great strain. "Alright. Now you may proceed."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes despite the stupid smile that threatens to spill across his lips, the rest of the day unfolding in continuous streams of a warming, pale-hued light to entrance him with from afar, Jia's frizzling energy bouncing off of the walls as soon as she wakes up bushy-haired and beaming.

Hyunjin brushes her hair then, braiding it into in a thick, pleated braid from up on the couch as Changbin watches in a fond amazement. Sora, having apparently spent the night, gauges him with great interest, scrutinizing every little interaction he has with Jia to every little detail about him.

Jia, ignorant and innocent to the situation as she is, decides to divulge, boasting excitedly about both the fact that he has a belly ring and a tramp stamp, no doubt. Jia never uses those words, but Hyunjin is sure he can see them swimming around in Sora's head like alarm bells the second they leave her mouth, Hyunjin shrinking in on himself as much as possible.

Thankfully Sora never speaks to him beyond obligatory, polite small talk here and there to which he somehow manages to successfully stutter his way through. On any other occasion, Hyunjin would be convinced he was falling victim to his usual paranoia but her words from yesterday still linger harrowingly in the back of his mind.

Hyunjin's leg bounces then, his eye twitching. He can't remember the last time he'd been sober for so long, his lungs ashen in the wake of the abnormal amount of cigarettes he'd gone through that week.

As nightfall crawls its way closer and closer to the witching hour of a sweat-glistened steel and aching stretched muscles, Hyunjin begrudgingly manages to get ready for work, a small part of him yearning, desperate even to feel its familiar throes weave their way straight back into his flesh.

Jia on the other hand, having gotten used to a whole week of her father not working during the evenings, starts crying as they try to leave the door, clinging to his body despairingly as she begs him not to go.

It's difficult to watch, a guilty, jabbing constraint lodging itself in his throat as he forces himself to look away, Changbin managing eventually to separate himself from her with the help of his mother as he promises not to work tomorrow, that he loves her, that he hopes she sleeps well.

Jia continues to cry miserably as the door slams shut, Changbin's eyes glossy and vacant as he quickly makes his way down the building and to his motorcycle, Hyunjin following closely in toe. It's clear he doesn't want to talk about it. Hyunjin understands, isn't sure how he'd be able to offer the right comfort in return anyway.

The ride to Cleopatra's is as dizzying and quick as he'd remembered it, the neon city lights blurring his vision as they speed through the winding roads, each gust of wind against his face like the rift in the otherwise floaty, rose-hued dreamscape he'd submerged himself in.

Jarring, sharp. In a way it's nice to know that life will never be as rigid and unmoving as it sometimes seems, the wispy, shrouding breeze a reminder that he can always run, run, run away if he wants to. For now he can but revel in the slight coolness, yearning for once to stay still.

As he makes his way up the staircase to his dressing room, the distant familiarity of the wooden panels come tumbling back into him as if never really having left at all.

It had seemed so foreign, unnatural almost, in his mind and yet now that he's there carefully applying his makeup in the mirror, it becomes more comforting than anything. With an eager, almost impatient buzz in his stomach does he await the Tiger Lily's bloom once more.

A sudden knock on his door makes him look up from his reflection as he cranes his neck around the room, hurriedly pulling on a robe to cover himself with and opening it apprehensively, knowing already with a tight feeling in his gut who's waiting on the other side.

Jinyoung greets him with his usual smile as Hyunjin lets him in, its curves slightly more taut around the edges. Brimming with unease, Hyunjin quickly confirms that he's doing okay, that his leg has already healed plenty and that he's more than ready to be back on the stage.

Jinyoung nods in appeasement at the information, eyes still boring straight into him as if sensing something wrong. Hyunjin swallows nervously, having known full well that he'd need to come clean at some point. Yet something holds him back, an unyielding, frigid string tying him up from the inside.

"Listen I have to be honest with you," Jinyoung says then, his words of a heavy sincerity as Hyunjin all but freezes, eyes wide and scattered and exuding with small kernels of fear, unsure really, of what it is he's so afraid of.

Jinyoung seems to pick up on it immediately, tone softening substantially as he gives him a comforting smile. "It's nothing bad. Or at least I hope it isn't, it's just...I know you've been avoiding me these last weeks. Is there something going on? Did I do something?"

Hyunjin's mouth parts open then, chest constricting painfully as he tries to take a deep breath. He'd been dreading the prospect of telling Jinyoung mostly not knowing what would await in his reaction and yet now, eyes soaking in the sturdy familiarity of his handsome, rugged face, he feels more of a distant, faraway sadness than anything.

It's a strange feeling, one he isn't quite sure what to do with. "Actually...I've been meaning to tell you something."

Jinyoung nods, expression furrowed and attentive as he waits for him to continue. Hyunjin halts, hands wringing themselves nervously as his mind scrambles to utter the words uncomfortably lodged within his throat.

Jinyoung only looks more and more concerned as silence-bound seconds filter between them, forehead creasing deeply as his mouth falls into a frown. Hyunjin gets it, he thinks. Jinyoung usually never sees him like this. Timid. Nervous. "It's just...well..." what the fuck is wrong with him? Is it really that big of a deal? It feels like it, he thinks. He rips the band-aid off in one, two, three-

"I'm sort of seeing someone right now. And it's kind of serious..." Hyunjin can practically see the cogs whirring to life inside Jinyoung's head, his back straightening itself immediately, stunned. "That's...that's why I've been avoiding you."

Hyunjin lets Jinyoung process for a second, a strange, disbelieving sounding laugh rising through his throat. "What?"

Hyunjin swallows again, the nerves in his stomach coiling so tightly he thinks it's starting to hurt. "I'm sorry," he breathes out, letting the curves of his face etch themselves into his mind. "I should've told you earlier."

Jinyoung says nothing for a few seconds, only eyeing him quizzically as if seeing him in an entirely new light for the first time. He wonders if that's what it feels like - the death of someone you were so sure you knew.

"Wow that's...unexpected," he starts, tone nothing but laced in surprise and bewilderment, barren of any anger or malice whatsoever. Hyunjin breathes out a small sigh of relief. He doesn't really know what he'd assumed would happen anyway. He thinks the only thing more terrifying than certain expectations are no expectations at all. "Who is it?"

Hyunjin bites his lip, unsure of how much he should divulge, opting in the end for a small, white lie. "You don't know him," he says softly, Jinyoung shaking his head as if in disbelief before a sudden grin sneaks its way across his face.

"Wow, I can't believe you're in a relationship." He looks him playfully up and down, smile wide and amused. "That's crazy. And...you're happy?"

Hyunjin only blinks for a few seconds, caught off guard by the question. Bristling their way through Jinyoung's gaze is only pure, unadulterated genuineness, face streaked with affection, a balmy, indented regard.

"Yeah," he says, voice thick with a sudden swell of emotion, an automatic smile gracing his lips he tries not to let it wobble. "I am."

"Good." Jinyoung nods, eyes glimmering with something he isn't quite sure he understands. Still he feels it all the same, its cord wrapping its way around his heart and squeezing painfully. "Really, I mean it."

"You do?" Hyunjin can tell that he does despite asking, eyes wide and glistening. Jinyoung walks closer to him then, tilting his head as he gives him a lopsided smile, such a statement crazy to be even questioned.

"Of course," he says, voice gentle and yet resolute as he speaks. "I only want the best for you."

"So you're not...mad?" He swallows, his eyes scattered as they soak within them each arch and muscles of Jinyoung's face, remembering still the first time he'd seen them illuminated beneath the low, dusty haze of an orange lightbulb only days away from decaying. "That we can't...you know...?"

Jinyoung says nothing for a few seconds and he looks, Hyunjin thinks, exactly the same as all those years ago. "Well, I'm sad this is ending sure, a little disappointed but..." in the whirlwind of his own twisting limbs, Jinyoung remains blissfully unchanged. For some reason it soothes the slight clutter within in his chest. "Hyunjin, I care about you. As long as you're happy, that's really all that matters."

Hyunjin looks up at him then, truly, wholeheartedly taking in the sincerity of his words, of the faintest shards of emotions within his eyes. Maybe Jinyoung had changed, after all. "Thank you." He smiles, his heart inflating with something unknown, eyes misty as he tries not to let them tip over.

Jinyoung mirrors his gentle smile, placing his hand on his shoulder as he rubs into it affectionately. For some reason it doesn't feel weird or sexual or condescending. Only comforting, he thinks. "Of course I'll miss, you know, whatever we had but...that's why memories exist. So we can cherish them when they're all that's left."

Hyunjin grins at that, slapping his chest lightly. "God that was sappy. I'm not dead either."

Jinyoung's mouth tugs upward then, teasing and playful. "And thank God for that. I'll still stare from afar then, if that's fine with you."

Hyunjin only rolls his eyes, the wide smile breaking across his face betraying any semblance of irritation immediately, his chest unraveling pleasantly. This had gone far better than he'd foreseen, a small sign, maybe even a blessing from the universe that he was doing something right for once. If only he believed in such things.

Jinyoung's grin slips off his face then, expression turning oddly serious as his brow furrows. "He treats you right? I mean...he's good to you?"

"Yeah." Hyunjin blinks, unable to stop the faint smile echoing across his lips. "He is."

"Good, good." Jinyoung nods, seemingly appeased. "If he ever hurts you, you tell me yeah? 'Cause I won't hesitate to kill him."

"I'll keep that in mind," he laughs, chest expanding with something warm and mellow as he stands there peering up into him.

Unbound by the promise of sweaty, sheet-woven nights or unchaste touches, Jinyoung still cared about him. The realization is difficult to digest and yet Hyunjin soaks it in with a light flutter to his heart.

"Well," Jinyoung sighs then, a small smile upon his face as he pats him resolutely on the arm. "Take care then, kiddo."

Hyunjin's face scrunches up in disgust, mouth twisting into a grimace. "Don't call me kiddo like you didn't regularly do tequila shots from my belly button."

"Sorry," Jinyoung says, though he doesn't look particularly sorry at all, grinning widely as if unlodging the memory from within his mind. Hyunjin does too, something strange passing through him. Nostalgia? Perhaps, though he isn't so sure whether that's anything he's ever felt before.

Gratitude, maybe, for everything he'd done. It doesn't hit him until right then and there how different his life had become, how much had changed, how discarded and kept away from the light he'd been before Jinyoung found him.

"Thank you for being so...nice about it," he says, swallows, glancing up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

Jinyoung gives him an amused smile then, tilting his head to the side. "Why wouldn't I have been?"

"No, you're right." Hyunjin shakes his head, not sure really, why he'd thought any different. Perhaps Felix had gotten too into his head. "You've always been good to me."

"Well." Something slightly solemn filters through the glint in his eyes at that, mouth dipping into a slight frown. "I wouldn't exactly say that, I'm no gentleman or anything but...I'm glad you're moving on to better things. I'm glad you're happy."

Hyunjin bites his lip, stomach simmering with nerves once more, the urge to spill everything overflowing inside of him. In some way he thinks saying it aloud makes it more real than within the ridged, sharp curves of his own mind.

It's time, he thinks, to let the truth bleed from upon his tongue. It hadn't hurt when he told Felix, it hadn't hurt when he told Jia and now, well- Hyunjin likes to do things in threes. "Actually...you do know him." Jinyoung's eyes widen in curiosity then, Hyunjin smiling shyly. "It's Changbin."

"No way." Hyunjin almost bursts out laughing at the bewildered, bulging look carved across Jinyoung's face, his mouth dropping and opening in shock. "I hire that motherfucker and he repays me by taking you away from me?!"

Hyunjin giggles as Jinyoung shakes his head in disbelief, simmering down to an unreadable, almost melancholic gaze. "Well, you were never really mine to begin with, were you?"

He clicks his tongue, the look washed away as quickly as it had come, smiling disbelievingly once more. "That's crazy though. And you promise me he's good to you? Because bodyguard or not I'll still kick his ass if he mistreats you."

"Yes, I promise." Hyunjin grins, his words seeping with all the sincerity within him. His eyes feel misty then, teeth caught between his teeth as he lets the thought linger in his mind. "He's...he's more than good to me."

Jinyoung nods, mouth opening as if about to say something before his face twists into one of sudden astonishment. "Wait, doesn't he have a daughter?!"

"Yeah." Hyunjin laughs at the almost horrified look Jinyoung gives him. "She's five."

"Holy shit," Jinyoung mutters, eyes still blown wide and stupefied. "What's that like?"

Hyunjin smiles, Jia's exuberant beam billowing through him with a balmy, warming breeze. "Never a dull moment."

Jinyoung stares him up and down again similarly to how he'd done before, shooting him a playful, dubious look. "Sorry but I'm having a hard time imagining you with a five year old."

"I know," Hyunjin laughs. "It's weird. But she's sweet. And really funny and yeah...it's worth the challenge."

"Good. I'm glad." Jinyoung seems more amused now than anything before his face swivels back into the one of a businessman, determined and matter-of-fact as always. "You two working together isn't going to be a problem is it?"

"No, I swear." Hyunjin shakes his head resolutely, his stomach tugging with a sudden surge of doubt. For some reason he hadn't thought much of it, mind too occupied with other worries to even let it linger for the slightest of seconds. In the end, he doesn't see how why it would be different from before. "It won't be."

Jinyoung gives him a faint, rapid look of skepticism as if not believing him entirely, nodding eventually in acceptance. "Alright...tell me if it does though, so we can fix it before it becomes too late. I don't need any jealousy issues." Hyunjin frowns. Jealousy issues?

Jinyoung only continues, commanding and determined as he speaks. "And I would tell you to please not have sex in your dressing room during your shift but that would be too hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?" He pauses for a second as if in deep thought, shaking his head in the end. "Whatever. I'll use my boss privileges to stay a little petty. Don't have sex at work. That's a direct order."

Hyunjin grins at the stern finger pointed his way, Jinyoung's eyes glimmering with enough playfulness for him not to take it too seriously. "Alright boss." He laughs then, a streak of fondness woven within it. "Duly noted."

"Good."

Something strange and affectionate grabs him right there and then, though he's entirely unsure of where it comes from - maybe from the satisfied sigh of relief that barrels through him, the reminder of everything Jinyoung had given him, especially here, especially now with the first confirmation of an unconditional, natural streak of tenderness in which to regard him with.

Something more than friendliness, something less than infatuation - Hyunjin doesn't know, doesn't know much about emotions at all. Still he walks over with a soft smile on his face as he presses his hands to Jinyoung's chest, leaning up slightly to give him a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek, hoping that somehow it will convey everything which words cannot. Jinyoung only gives him a surprised yet happy look in return, clearly caught off guard.

"Really." Hyunjin bites his lip, his eyes ghostlike and misty as he blinks. "Thank you for being so nice about it...and well, everything I guess. For finding me, for this job, for taking a chance on me."

His heart squeezes painfully then, the ache pleasant, welcoming even as he accepts it. "And for what it's worth I liked our relationship. Or whatever it was. I'll always be grateful to you, you know. You're a good man."

Jinyoung looks positively stunned at that, eyes shimmering with perplexity before morphing into something soft, something streaked with a fond gratitude. "Wow. Thank you..." He takes hold of Hyunjin's hands then, squeezing them lightly as if carrying within them the sincerity of his words.

"I hope you know you really do deserve happiness even if it's hard to admit. And if your idea of happiness is Changbin and his daughter and being part of their family then, don't let anyone take that away from you. You're special, yeah?" Jinyoung gives him a smile as Hyunjin reflects it back easily. Gratefully. "Not just as a dancer. Don't forget it."

Somewhere in the back of his head, Sora's words from the night before ring through once again, scraping and scratching at him from the inside. Still the way Jinyoung looks at him fizzles it all out into small specks of dust, grains of a poisonous mind to curse him with another time.

Maybe Jinyoung is right - after all, he isn't one to tell white lies just for the sake of momentary appeasement. Hyunjin swallows then, eyes so glassy he can but blink rapidly not to let small droplets water.

Jinyoung gives him a knowing look then, smiling at him gently as if sensing the emotion coursing through. He'd never been one to let anyone in, least of all Jinyoung and yet Jinyoung had spoken as if having been able to read his mind, to know exactly what he'd needed to hear.

Had he splintered off a part of himself for Jinyoung to carry without even realizing it? Somehow the thought awakes nothing but a small, steady hum to embrace.

"Look at us getting all sentimental and shit." Jinyoung shakes his head in mock disappointment then, letting go of his hands gently as Hyunjin laughs. "What the fuck is happening around here? I gotta do something morally questionable quick."

Hyunjin grins, crossing his arms against the satin fabric of his robe. "Well now you can go fuck Minho instead."

Jinyoung only shoots him an incredulous look as he starts making his way back toward the door. "Yeah and get my dick chopped off for trying?! I don't think so."

Hyunjin laughs at that, mindful of the clock as it ticks quickly upon the wall. He needs to finish getting ready, to which Jinyoung is already one step ahead of him, fishing forward that usual, plastic packet of heavenliness as Hyunjin gracefully clutches it within his own fingers.

Jinyoung gives him a last, caring smile and a somewhat stern "Don't take too much of it" before waving a small goodbye and slithering out the door as determinedly as he'd come in. Hyunjin sighs quietly, staring for a while at the empty imprint he'd left in his wake before giddily making his way over to his vanity dresser and separating the powder into thin, white lines.

This had gone so much better than he'd anticipated. One. His nose burns welcomely. If Jinyoung of all people believed it could work, then maybe it could. Two. He breathes out satisfied, chest unraveling at the seams. Maybe Sora had been wrong, rightfully worried but wrong nonetheless. Three.

Hyunjin hums contentedly, bloodstream coursing with a brewing, bundling energy unleashing itself everywhere as he dresses himself eagerly, excited, aching even to get back on the stage he'd been barren of for so long.

Well, maybe not so long but it had felt like a whole lifetime had passed within that one week of clutching himself to Changbin's side and burrowing his way into his apartment as if it were but a warm, inviting nest to drape himself across.

Hyunjin had felt at home there, comfortable, blissfully wrapped in a concoction of a sweet-hued infatuation to lull him with. Yet, as he catches his reflection in the mirror - smoky eyed, dark, cascading beads dripping down his waist and shoulders in ringlets - he remembers just how well petals of a tiger lily crave the red, hazed light of artificiality to fully bloom.

He walks to the stage shrouded in nothing but his usual, enticingly-woven confidence, sending Changbin a triumphant smirk as he not so subtly looks him up and down from where he stands ready and buzzing in a sort of restlessness behind the stage.

Coursing with a thrumming vitality, Hyunjin gives him a quick, euphoric kiss Changbin barely has the time to react to before he excitedly slinks his way up stage, wrapping his limbs around the pole once the familiar beat of his music starts.

Fuck, he thinks, head high in elation as his gut coils pleasantly, he'd forgotten how fun this was. His head swirls in raptures as it droops, body spinning, spinning, spinning in the release of a foggy, sinful bloodied red, the light switching with each beat as his silhouette twists itself enchantingly.

The night enfolds in rubies as he drops down onto the stage, colors itself with sapphire once he prowls upon his knees, hungry, hungry, hungry in emerald as he teasingly collects the dollar bills from his watchers - glorious, bewitching, encrusted with the shimmers of gemstone after gemstone.

He catches sight of Changbin in the corner of his eye, his body rigid and firm as he dutifully scans into the crowd. Hyunjin smiles, gut simmering with growing embers as he succumbs eagerly to the unwinding of the night.

For some reason, everything seems to go smoothly that evening, perfectly even, a small streak of rarity amongst all the godless hands that usually grab at him - one nice, problem free shift to stretch his smile even wider.

The cocaine feels like heaven with each line he snorts, his chest unloosening and glimmering with a certain splendor of carefreeness as he lets his body mold itself the way it wants without ever thinking twice.

Felix compliments his outfit happily as Hyunjin laughs brightly in return, Minho remains uncharacteristically quiet and peaceful throughout the night and most miraculously of all, his little watchers are anything but disrespectful, their flirtatious compliments and showering of attention thrilling, fun even as he soaks it in greedily.

Above all does his pleasure twist itself in helixes up his spine during a particularly amusing private room - a bachelor party for a group of especially charming naval officers, their flattery and entertaining stories making his head swirl in dizziness.

Or maybe it's just the cigars they're smoking, Hyunjin doesn't know. He doesn't particularly care either and well- he doesn't mind a man in uniform. Especially ones that know how to have a good time without letting that selfish brazenness he so often has to wield sear itself straight into him.

Perhaps it's the coke, or maybe the drinks they'd ordered or maybe the fact that they want to play strip poker that makes him laugh so much. Even more entertaining does it become when he's not the only one stripping, the others joining in lightheartedly as shoes and socks and even a couple of pants become discarded upon the floor.

Chest rising with unwavering swells of laughter, Hyunjin steadies himself after a while, mind still buzzing from the high of sweet, sweet cocaine as he gracefully settles himself in Mr. Bachelor's lap, smile coy and playful as he lifts the white, sleek Bernard Cap off his head and places it teasingly on his own.

He smirks then, stealing the thick cigar nestled firmly in his hand as he drags it to his own lips, blowing small ringlets of smoke in his face as his eyes glimmer magnetically. He feels powerful then, with the ensnaring of precious attention so eagerly thrust upon him, each gaze, each delicate touch, each priceless compliment like a flame to the bursting ribcage of crumbling months inside of him.

Mr. Bachelor whispers something in his ear as he preens beneath the flattery, laughter falling into unsteady giggles the longer he continues and-fuck, he's dizzy. The drink in his hand tilts once the time eventually runs out, a few droplets spilling to the floor as he ungracefully gets back up again, someone steadying him gently as everyone starts to get dressed.

He lingers behind as they filter out of the room, collecting his tips thankfully as he wishes the bachelor a happy wedding. Fuck, what is happening to him? He never does that. Oh well, Hyunjin shrugs as he manages to tug his clothes back on, placing each cascading bead perfectly in place as he slinks his way outside, Changbin waiting for him by the opposite wall, an strange expression plastered upon his face.

Hyunjin grins as he walks over, Changbin quickly smiling once he notices him, though there's something slightly strained around the edges. Hyunjin hopes he doesn't reek too much of alcohol, placing his hands on his chest as he leans in flirtatiously. "Hey."

"Hi," Changbin laughs, clearly amused at his expressiveness.

"I'm taking my smoke break outside right now." Hyunjin giggles, dragging his hands further down his stomach. "Need to sober up."

"Oh," is all Changbin says, eyes shifting with something he isn't quick enough to catch, nodding blankly after a while. "Okay."

"Do you want to join me?" Hyunjin grins, lacing his hands discreetly within Changbin's as he quickly looks up and down the corridor to make sure they're alone.

Changbin seems to visibly brighten up at that, mouthing tugging upward as his clutch squeezes comfortingly. "Sure."

Biting his lip, Hyunjin cautiously leads the way with Changbin in tow, leaving him outside before rushing up to his dressing room to grab his pack of cigarettes and walking quickly back down.

With a light, feathery heart Hyunjin leans softly against the wall as he clicks the lighter into life, the little flame illuminating his face within the darkness from where Changbin keeps carefully gazing into him. With his cigarette finally alit, Hyunjin cranes his neck to glance at him teasingly, grinning widely as the smoke gently filters into his lungs.

"You seem happy." Changbin gives him that amused look once more, smile laced with great interest.

Hyunjin hums, exhaling quietly as the fumes wisp into the delicate wind. "Yeah, it's been a good day I guess."

Changbin raises an eyebrow at that, smile still intact as he waits for him to elaborate.

Hyunjin turns to him then, sighing before letting that same, giddy feeling from before run through him with a pleasant chill. "I told Jinyoung about us, he was surprisingly supportive, the customers have been unusually well-mannered, the tips have been great and now I get to take my breaks outside with my boyfriend."

Hyunjin laughs then, eyes crinkling as he shakes his head. "That feels so weird to say."

"I think it has a certain ring to it," Changbin grins, stepping closer as Hyunjin leans lightly into his side, eyes gazing into him as they glimmer beneath the small flicker of the streetlight outside.

Changbin only settles into a calm, gentle smile as they stand there in a soothing, cradling silence, the smoke swiveling magnetically in front of them in the draping, uncatchable shadows.

"So..." Changbin starts after a while, something strange lodged within his throat. "You had fun in there?"

Hyunjin pauses for a second, unsure of what he's referring to before breaking into a captivated smile. "Yeah, a bachelor party. They were pretty nice. And funny." He grins then, quirking an eyebrow playfully. "Got to smoke a cigar even."

Changbin looks stunned at that, eyes wide as he laughs. "You smoked a cigar?"

Hyunjin giggles at his bewilderment, nodding in amusement. "I just tried it. I'm better at it now, before I'd just cough and hack like an idiot." He shrugs, taking another slow drag from his cigarette. "Luckily they'd think it was cute. But I probably shouldn't be smoking now, I smell like an ashtray."

His nose scrunches up in momentary disgust then before eventually waving it off. "Eh, whatever. I have mouth wash in my dressing room."

Changbin peers at him inquisitively for a while, Hyunjin leaning back against the wall with a content hum as he closes his eyes, the smoke filtering soothingly in and out of his lungs as he lets his head enjoy the fleeting rarity of calm.

"Can I ask you something?" Hyunjin opens his eyes then, Changbin's forehead slightly creased as he bores straight into him. His stomach flutters nervously, just a bit before he nods in acceptance.

"Do you always..." Changbin starts, halting for a second as if unsure of what to say. "Do you always get high when you work?"

Hyunjin opens his mouth, eyes blinking in startlement, entirely unknowing of how he's supposed to react to such a question. Yet Changbin only looks at him with that gentle genuineness he always does, caring and attentive as he waits patiently for an answer.

"Yeah," he shrugs, smiling as if it's nothing. He feels uncomfortable then, not wanting to justify his little need for pretty white lines that burn so deliciously against his nostrils. "It's just for fun. It's just easier that way."

Changbin's forehead only furrows deeper at that, his mouth thinning into a small, unreadable frown. "What would happen if you didn't?"

Hyunjin pauses at that, the grip on his cigarette tightening immediately. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what would happen if you tried working sober?" Changbin asks, the question billowing unpleasantly within the air. Hyunjin's stomach hardens. "Would you not feel comfortable performing?"

"Why, do you have a problem or something?" His lungs feel tight, his throat clogged as he tries to reel back the spiraling emotions surging through him. "I can do whatever I want."

Changbin seems taken aback by the quick shift in his tone, eyes widening in a certain insistence. "No, no, of course you can. I was just wondering."

Hyunjin only stares at him then, jaw clenching uncomfortably as he tries to find his way back to the steady repose of mere moments before.

Changbin, as observant as always, notices his discomposure immediately as he steps closer, a light finger coming forward to tuck a small strand of hair behind his ear. Hyunjin gives in to his touch, his stomach untying itself slowly as Changbin gives him a small, gentle smile.

"You don't need to get so defensive around me," Changbin says quietly, eyes scanning all over his face as if wanting to engrave each curve and muscle into his mind. "I'm not out to get you or anything. I just really like you and want to know how that pretty little head of yours works."

Changbin grins playfully then as Hyunjin succumbs to the fragile smile threatening to spill across his face. "I'm sorry," he breathes out, cigarette loosening in his hold as he tries to reel in the urge to simply lean forward.

Changbin's face is close enough for him to do so and yet he doesn't, afraid the smoke from his tongue would come clogging up his lungs should he let it exhale itself freely. "I'm not used to this...to people caring. I know I promised I would try...that I would let you in and- and I will...I just..."

"It's alright," Changbin smiles, eyes glimmering with flares of fondness that crackle in the dark. "I can be patient."

"Thank you," he whispers, relief simmering somewhere within his words as they swell through the night. He gives Changbin a firm, entirely infatuated kiss on the cheek before retreating his way back into the club, eager to continue his shift, slightly ready for it to end in order to go home, to burrow himself into the arms of someone else, someone he knows will hold onto him protectively until the meagre sunrise paints itself back upon the sky.

A few routines, lap dances and hoards of mouthwash later, Hyunjin mounts the bike happily as Changbin takes him back to his apartment, his chest light and giddy and feeling as if it belongs to someone else as soon as they make their way inside.

Jia is spending the night with Changbin's mother, the place eerily dark and quiet as soon as the door opens and yet Hyunjin forgets all about it rather quickly, Changbin spinning him around playfully into his own room as Hyunjin laughs, dropping onto the bed with his stomach in flames.

Changbin climbs on top of him then as Hyunjin eagerly brings his face down into a kiss, gut coiling pleasantly as Changbin pushes his way right into him, giving and giving and giving, gentle and steady as always.

Hyunjin sighs happily into his mouth before breaking into a grin, fingers skimming greedily beneath his shirt as Changbin laughs quietly at his insistence, tugging it off in one swift, stomach-jabbing motion.

Hyunjin latches himself onto him immediately, kissing fervently down his chest as Changbin lets out quiet, shaky exhales that leave his mind reeling. Catching the metal zipper of his jeans between his teeth, Hyunjin tugs it down enthusiastically as he peers up into Changbin with wide, burning eyes, Changbin gazing down at him with a foggy, misty expression before eventually sitting up straight and flipping them over as soon as his pants are off.

Hyunjin moans eagerly into his mouth as his fingers scratch keenly upon his back, Changbin pulling away after a few seconds to simply just look at him, eyes glimmering as he smiles softly, the curve of his lips creating a sharp, restless tug in his gut as he lies there idly.

"We can take it slow, you know," Changbin whispers, his gaze chasmic and bewitching as he strokes the side of his cheek. Hyunjin's swallows harshly, his heart hammering erratically against his ribcage. "You're always in such a rush. We have all the time in the world."

"That's how I like it," Hyunjin says, the words weak and feeble as they falter through the air between them. "Fast. Rough."

Changbin smiles down at him then, something unreadable glimmering around the edges as Hyunjin blinks, stomach clenching with emotions unrestrained. "But have you ever tried it any other way?"

"No," he whispers, eyes wide and glassy as he can but stare hopelessly up at that cursed, cursed smile Changbin gives him. Too real, too real - he thought he'd accepted that a while ago, the allowance of indulging in something unbound by mere illusions and yet here, small and fragile beneath the view of a man who'd already offered him everything, his limbs tremble in a ghostlike, pearl of desperation.

He needs control, craves it like he burns within himself that three-leafed clover, craves the power he yields when he knows exactly what to do, exactly how to be.

"Do you want to?"

But had he ever really held within his crumbling grip the firmness of control, or had all just been an illusion to appease him with, to fuel the wrathful fire scorching him to cinders? Would submitting to the quiver of his ribcage be any less powerful, any less igniting than ignoring it entirely, painting it over with the sharp, jagged cut of his own ruinous desire?

"Yes," he breathes out, the word falling past his lips like the last held key to some secret, a tightly locked jewel of terror tumbling its way straight into Changbin's grasp.

The smile Changbin gives him then barrels its way right to his heart as he leans down, hold gentle around his body as he kisses him with all the passion and care that courses its way through his veins, Hyunjin letting himself submit to the brittleness of his touch, for once molded into something delicate - something splintered and feathery and not intended for an inevitable collapse.

"You don't-" he starts, breath caught in his throat as the moonlight from outside filters through in papery strips upon their bare, undressed limbs, its fluttery light skimming in silky trails along the upper side of Changbin's torso as if pathways to somewhere else, somewhere water-spun and beautiful. "You don't have to use a condom."

Changbin gives him a hesitant, yet bleeding look in the shimmery darkness, eyes pooling with something frail. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He doesn't know why, can't explain the trickling urge that overwhelms him there and then, heart beating so loudly he thinks it might deafen the airiness of his whispers. "I'm clean, I promise."

He needs it to be different, special, real. Just this once, yearns for it like nothing else. "I want to feel you." His heart cracks. Changbin isn't like the others, he doesn't want him to be like the others. "Please."

Changbin leans in to kiss him then - slow, sweet, everything, everything, everything. "I'll give you anything you want."

Hyunjin whimpers brokenly into his mouth, clutching onto his body tightly as his entire body shakes, the welding of their limbs like a fragile, wispy hymn to anchor him with as Changbin pushes into him and yet despite how easily broken he feels, there's something steady, something strong pulsating between the two of them as Hyunjin lets go, for once, of that flimsy illusion he's always clutched onto like a lifeline.

His senses fill themselves to the brim in the midst of those pale shards of the moon, overflowing and overflowing, streaming down the jagged rifts within his chest as Changbin fulfills his promise and then some, lifting his legs above his shoulders as Hyunjin cries out from the sensitivity.

It's all too much, too much and yet not enough at the same time, his eyes wet and glossy as his heart carves its way straight out his chest.

"I-" Changbin pants, halting for a second as if roping whatever he was about to say back, gazing into him instead with a soft, yearning glow of a fathomless path, the small beads of sweat on his forehead a glistening reflection of the tears streaming down his own cheek.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers instead, staring and staring and Hyunjin wants to look away, needs to look away before he falls apart entirely and yet he can't, the sincerity, the glimmer of truth within the eyes looking down on him so vast, so undying that he doesn't know how he'll ever get back from this, doesn't know how he'll ever be able to look in the mirror and see beyond the cracks that have permanently opened.

"So, so beautiful," Changbin mutters as he leans down to burrow himself within the nook of his neck, hands firm and yet delicate as they run their way through his hair, yearning, desperate - as if memorizing the way his hair falls would somehow illustrate the next pathways of his life. "So stunning. Like the moon."

Hyunjin's breath hitches, the angle deep and addicting and the words swimming through his head as it swivels in dizziness, his fingernails scraping along Changbin's back with all the force he can muster - a quiet plead, an aching prayer to not leg go.

He closes his eyes the second he feels Changbin's mouth flutter against his jaw, his lips falling open in airy, needy whines he doesn't think he's ever heard before, each touch and sensation burning against his skin, against his bones, against the crumbling, powerless marrow of his ribcage.

Something ruptures within him then, something large and unfixable and constant, his eyes pooling with long withheld tears as his vision turns white, looping and chaining itself to the promise of stars in his head.

Over and over and over again does he feel himself dying, shedding off old decaying parts that have done nothing but fester miserably throughout the years, soul splitting agonizingly as if having been woven of mere lace, easy, flimsy, delicate to rip into pieces.

He crumbles into dust that night, certain that the fissure in his heart will forever remain, sure that the place Changbin has carved within it will only swell and swell until it eventually takes over.

Terror seizes him then, his body going limp - thighs trembling, chest aching - and yet he doesn't mind being terrified, not like this when he's held, not like this when he knows, if just for one small, moon-flooded moment, that he was the most precious, most beautiful soul within the earth to the sky.

He knows he will hardly exist as anything similar ever again and yet he cherishes his being right there and then through the dreamless throes of sleep, cradles it deeply against his chest as he lets his limbs and all its splinters fall to a golden, deep-rooted rest in the arms of someone who he knows, knows through all the pain he bears, will put him gently back together again.

 

-

 

As the sun lightly mulls him into a state of consciousness the next morning, Hyunjin grumbles his way out of bed and into the bathroom, pulling a large, oversized shirt above his body as he rigorously brushes his teeth.

Changbin had left already for work, something he'd very cutely scribbled on a little note once again by the bedside drawer as Hyunjin had tried desperately not to smile. Unsuccessful, as he so often found himself nowadays, lips splitting into chasmic beam after chasmic beam before he had any chance to stop it.

He yawns as he meticulously smoothens out his hair, body sore and aching from last night and yet his heart feels anything but - enlivened, splattered with bright, scintillating colors as he makes his way out into the living room, steps light and feathery as his chest inflates.

This could work, this really could work, last night had been amazing, he'd done as Jinyoung said and allowed himself to be happy and the fear that had come with it seemed far less daunting now that he wasn't alone and maybe for the first time in his entire life he could be deserving of something like that and-

"Fuck!" Hyunjin jumps in sudden surprise, hand flying to his chest as his entire body freezes, the scrutinizing yet equally as bewildered eyes of Changbin's mother boring straight into him from the kitchen, her mouth closing just as quickly as it had dropped open.

"Oh," is all she says, clearly not having expected him to be there and what the fuck- Hyunjin hadn't even heard anyone come through the door. Sora simply stares at him, eyes flitting quickly over his attire to which his mortification only doubles in the realization that he once again is not wearing pants.

"Well." She laughs a little then, though he thinks there's a strange, slightly jagged edge that filters through it. "We've got to stop meeting like this."

Hyunjin's eyes only widen as his chest constricts painfully, wishing desperately for the ground to swallow him whole as he all but stupidly opens and closes his mouth, mind entirely wiped for what to say.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Sora says, filtering through a small, pink bag he recognizes as Jia's up on the counter. "Jia forgot a few things at my place, I just came by to drop them off. I have a key."

"Right," he stutters, embarrassment flooding through him at the unwavering gaze she carries. "I'll um-I'll get going."

"Oh no need." Sora waves her hand dismissively, placing the bag upon one of the kitchen stools before walking over closer to him, eyes unfeeling as she gives him a tight smile. "I'll be leaving soon, but now that you're here I've been wanting to talk to you."

Hyunjin shrinks in on himself then, letting out an airy, nervous laugh as he crosses his arms over his torso. "Okay, just let me change-"

"Don't worry about it," Sora disregards his worries with the simple tilt of her head, clearly not all that fazed over his appearance. Hyunjin swallows, straightening up instantly as his eyes scatter around the room in search of an escape route. "I just need to ask you some questions, is all."

"Sure," he says, though the words come out far more strangled than he intends for them to.

Sora peers into him scrutinizingly then, expression one of deep thought as if filtering through the questions in her head, unsure of which one to choose. In the end she only looks at him blankly, hand placed on her hip as she speaks. "Why are you a stripper?"

Hyunjin blinks, mind twisting around as he scurries to catch up. What kind of a fucking question is that? "Excuse me?"

Sora sighs, running a hand quickly through her black hair as if worn-out from their conversation already. Hyunjin's stomach clenches painfully. "I mean, what made you want to become a stripper?"

"I don't really see how that's any of your business," he utters, tone seeping with more hostility than he'd liked, his arms crossing defensively as he tries to steady the uncomfortable tightening in his chest.

"Alright," Sora mutters, eyes narrowing in skepticism, her piercing gaze like bitter vials of poison to throttle him with. "Fair enough. I'll ask you something that is my business then. What are your intentions here?"

Hyunjin swallows harshly, small seeds of panic beginning to scratch him from the inside. He recognizes that feeling all too well, one he hasn't felt since the acidic age of seventeen. He tries to shake it off, burying it deep, deep down where belongs in the unsighted. "What do you mean?"

"It's just you don't strike me as someone who likes to spend your evenings braiding hair and cleaning up dinner after a five year old." Sora stares into him then - expectantly, accusingly, her words from the argument she'd had with Changbin reverberating loudly, achingly within in his skull. His heart deflates, replacing itself with a pungent, suffocating swell instead.

"You don't know what I like or not." His voice remains calm, steady even despite the way his insides tremble, a sharp sting prickling its way suddenly straight into him. Sora gives him a calculated look, clicking her tongue as she nods her head, something flaring within her unwavering, brown eyes.

"No, that's true," she agrees, lips pursing as she gives him a taut, rigid smile. "But I think I can guess, no? Sleep during the day, chasing the thrill of the night, a constant need to keep the high going and going and going without ever thinking of the consequences?"

She tilts her head, her words souring their way down his throat. He thinks he can feel the first taste of something acidic upon his tongue. "Sound familiar?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," he snaps, bitterness unfolding within him. "You don't know anything about me. I like Changbin, that's all there's to it."

Sora steps even closer to him then, Hyunjin swallowing the urge to flinch away as he firmly stands his ground. Still fear bubbles within him, that familiar, panicked-scattered sensation curling inside his chest as he tries desperately not to crumble beneath the tearing watch of his own resentful mother. He blinks, pinching his forearm discreetly. His mother is far, far away.

"So you're telling me that you simply care for him?" Sora narrows her eyes, her voice strained with more and more doubt the longer she speaks. "That you, someone who gives lap dances for a living, enjoys playing house like this?"

His chest squeezes agonizingly then, his mouth stuttering open as he struggles for what to say, anger and shame coursing through him in tidal waves. "What does my job have to with this?"

"Believe me, I'm quite open-minded." Sora gives him a quick, examining scan up and down, her voice steely with determination. "But I'm not a fool and neither are you. And though I'd like to trust that your intentions are pure, I'm inclined to think otherwise. So tell me."

She takes another step closer, her misgivings curving their way plainly and resolutely across her face. Hyunjin's stomach plummets. "Be honest. Is this some sort of game to you? Does it give you a thrill, meddling in a life like this, having the father of a five year old wrapped around your little finger, doing everything you please? Do you regularly pick up single dads at the playground just to turn their world upside down for a few months?"

Hyunjin staggers back, eyes bulging in shock as his face contorts in a sharp, adamant denial. "What the fuck are you talking about? I would never do something like that."

Whatever illusions of playing nice Sora had wispily kept onto wither away with the mere snap of her teeth, her eyes narrowing into suspicious, hardened slits as she glares into him.

"Alright, say I give you the benefit of the doubt - even if your intentions are good, this is not just something you can get into without knowing the repercussions. Family takes work, sacrifice, it's a commitment, not just a way for you to pass time or to indulge in all the effort Changbin makes to keep you happy. Being involved in Jia's life means there are things you need to let go of, things I'm almost certain you regularly entertain because you aren't grown enough to see them. I don't care if you work at a strip club, I don't care if you're in some trashy magazine - the fact that you use your sexuality, your body, your health for the entertainment of others doesn't mean you're mature, it means the opposite. If you want to fuck around, get plastered and chase some high that's never good enough, then that's on you but don't drag other people into it. You don't even know half of the work it takes to be a real adult. And unless you wake up and realize that then I'm imploring you, no I'm pleading you right now, to stop."

Hyunjin can but stare back in a harrowing, incensed disbelief at the determined expression glimmering in her eyes, her mind already well made up and bound entirely by the truth in which she has convinced herself of.

Hyunjin swallows, the ridiculous, stupid daydreams of just moments ago crumbling into nothingness as he tries not to let the panic puncturing his chest spill over as he stands there. "I'm not-I'm not messing around," he seethes, rage twisting agonizingly up his spine. "I'm serious about this."

"Serious enough to be in an adult relationship? Serious enough to take care of a child?" Sora shakes her head, a scoff tumbling through her throat. "Do you have any idea at all the responsibilities that comes with that?"

Her gaze remains steely and unyielding as she stands there, her disapproval hot and scorching as it crackles within the air between them, burning the thinnest flesh of his bones as he tries not to let its pain render him unmoving. "Don't ruin a family just for the sake of it."

Acid blisters its way down his throat then, his gut clenching and clenching and collapsing in on itself in anger. "I'll be going home now," he mutters, feet quick to turn back on their heels as he makes his way into Changbin's room, dressing himself as hastily as he can and packing all of his belongs back into that stupid fucking gym bag he'd brought.

With glossy, blinking eyes he carefully places Bunny within his bag as well, fingers trembling as he walks back out, determined not to look her in the eye as he all but slams the door shut on his way out.

How idiotic he'd been, how absolutely fucking stupid to believe he could ever be a part of something like this, that he could ever let his touch imprint itself upon something like-like a family without dirtying it to its core, all those foolish, childish thoughts about happiness as if he hadn't learnt already by now that there was no such fucking thing and- Hyunjin stifles a sob in the elevator down, his chest rising and falling heavily as he quickly muffles any cries with the palm of his hand.

He spends the rest of his day quivering with an awakened sense of fury and humiliation, scrubbing tirelessly upon the floorboards of his bleak, empty apartment that seems anything but inviting by now, again and again and again, his arms sore and aching as the sun begins to bleed its usual darker, tangerine hue.

He sends Changbin a message after a while, a short, shitty explanation of having to spend the next couple of days at his own place to make sure everything's in order. He's pretty Changbin already knows that's code for 'cleaning' and 'being a fucking freak,' but he hopes his compassion will defer him from questioning him further, will let him unfold his obsessions in the only way he knows how.

He supposes it was about time he needed a reality check from the juvenile fantasies that had colored his days, his eyes burning with the sweltering remnants of tears that wet his lips as he painfully completes his rituals, stopping only momentarily to clutch tightly onto Bunny as he lets himself cry, mourning something he isn't sure how he'll ever be able to get over.

Sora is right, she's right, he can't do this, he isn't good for them, he needs to keep away, away, away-

Hyunjin screams, dropping Bunny onto the floor as he tugs excruciatingly at his hair, his skin itching as his chest brims with panic, whole body tingling as if punctured by a thousand, scraping needles. A sob wracks through his body then, face burying itself into his hands as he rocks shakily back and forth.

How could he stop now, how could he slaughter the greed that had blossomed within him, Changbin is different, not like the others no, special and kind and deserving of so much better but he can't let go of him, he can't, he can't, not now, not now that he's gotten a taste, not now that his soul has scattered itself in irreparable pieces all around Changbin's apartment and fuck-

He needs to get out, needs to get out immediately, his chest heaving as he tries to steady his breathing. Shakily he manages to get up, heart clenching as he sees the amount of calls and text messages he's already received from Changbin.

No, he can't answer. He needs to get out, his fingers drumming impatiently upon his thighs as his mind twists itself nauseatingly. He needs to forget, just for one moment, limbs aching for that same unbridled joy and exhilaration he'd felt last night, mind cursing the fact that it's yet another Monday, yet another day off.

That's fine, he thinks, it's not like Cleopatra's is the only place he can let loose, he's in Vegas after all and he knows all the best spots around thanks to Jinyoung and so he gets ready with a determined yet far too desperate glint in his eye, tugging on tight pants risen low enough to show off his tiger lily tattoo and a simple, baby tee to let his navel ring glimmer entrancingly from the artificial lights.

He makes sure not to let his eyes water as he carefully applies his eyeliner, lower lip trembling the longer he lets his reflection sear itself into his mind. He looks entirely like himself then - dirty, alluring, a darkened coil of chains to choke yourself with. Perfect, he thinks, except for the sorrowful streak that shimmers within his eyes.

Tearing his gaze away, Hyunjin makes his way enthusiastically to the club he'd set his sights on, the building wafting in a hazy, blue-hued smoke as he filters through the hoards of people - an unusual amount for a Monday night. Though he supposes a lot of them are tourists, or perhaps most Las Vegans simply don't care. After all, the city comes alive as soon as the sun bids its much awaited goodbye.

He snakes his way up to the bar immediately as he orders a few shots - better to just get it going as soon as possible, his whole body thrumming with a nervous, guilt swirling restlessness. He doesn't even know what it is he feels guilty for and yet Changbin's unanswered messages burn from his phone through the fabric of his pants.

He downs the shots easily then, his throat scorching as he makes his way onto the dance floor, the music pounding gratingly against his skull as he lets himself twist along to the beat.

The club is shitty really, one of those with an uncountable amount of peeling stickers upon its bathroom stalls and a stifling, cough-inducing haze that constantly lingers in the air and yet the drinks were addicting and the music always good, the slow beat vibrating through his body as he sensually moves along with it, fingers dragging themselves up and down his torso as he sighs in a surging contentment.

He doesn't know how long he spins there in the midst of a bustling swarm, people coming up to dance with him as he lets them, their faces passing through in a distant, detached blur with each bouncing rhythm of the music.

In the end the vodka only does so much, Changbin's face still flashing throughout his mind despite his yearning efforts to let himself forget, the ache in his heart echoing pitifully back to life.

He needs something stronger, needs the familiar burn of pearly white lines, needs it now, now, now- fuck! He contemplates calling Jinyoung for a second and yet he doesn't particularly want him to see him like this, not after he'd humiliatingly let his words of happiness and moving on float so foolishly within his chest.

He's sure he can find coke somewhere here, it can't possibly prove to be that difficult. Not when he looks like this anyway.

He's right, as it turns out, body leaning over a dirty bathroom counter as he snorts a couple of lines with relief exhaling itself through his mind, a guy he'd maybe deceptively flirted a little with offering it easily after a mere couple of minutes.

Hyunjin laughs at something he says as soon as he's done, leaning comfortingly against the stall as his muscles relax, head pinching itself high in elation as he lets the pulse of the music rumble addictingly within him. He forgets him soon enough, his body returning its way back to the dance floor as he spins around the newfound haze clouding up his mind, smile lazy and etched happily as the smoke stretches itself around him hypnotically.

He feels good then, so fucking good as time twirls around in captivating circles from his vision, limbs swaying and jumping and expanding themselves everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Fuck. The fluorescing lights shimmer from above him as he lets their flickering colors drape themselves over him magnetically.

His muscles feel light then, drowsy even, a comfortable, steady unfurling of relaxation tunneling through him as he leans back against the wall in some corner, eyes fluttering shut as his breathing turns slow. Jesus, he can't remember turning so passive from cocaine before.

He opens his eyes after a while, body on fire as he lets the lights render him dizzy from staring, tongue unbearably dry all of the sudden as he struggles to remember where he is and fuck, what he really needs is someone to touch him, to cool the scorching cinders coursing through his bloodstream and give him what he wants, what he needs-

"Hyunjin?"

He snaps his neck toward the sound of his name as his eyes widen exponentially, the familiar, staring figures of both Chan and Jisung peering into him quizzically as they start to make their way over, a beer bottle in each of their hands and an unreadable, almost amusing glint to their eyes.

"Hey!" Hyunjin shouts, grinning excitedly as he pushes himself from off the wall and stumbles his way over, almost jumping in eagerness once he reaches the slightly secluded spot they're standing and flinging himself to quickly hug each of them as they both stare back at him shocked. Chan only laughs after that, Jisung looking entirely too flustered. "What are you guys doing here?!"

"Trying to get Jisung laid," Chan yells loudly over the music as he grins, Jisung nudging him harshly in his ribcage as Hyunjin starts laughing and fuck- he's still so thirsty. "Nah, just joking. We just wanted to get out."

Hyunjin nods enthusiastically then, not fully sure of what they're saying but it's entertaining nonetheless. "What are you doing here?" Jisung leans closer to him then so as not to have to shout over the music. "Aren't you staying at Changbin's?"

"Do you wanna dance?" He shouts, Jisung only recoiling with a bewildered look in return. Hyunjin giggles at his reaction before grabbing his hands and tugging him along back into the crowd, Chan following them with an amused expression as Hyunjin spins around delightedly.

Unaware of how much time that passes, he simply lets his body twirl and twist itself to the rhythm of the music, eyes fluttering closed every few seconds as a sudden wave of dizziness overcomes him.

Still he grins all the same, leaning in to both of them as he sways around unbothered, Chan and Jisung exchanging confused, yet worried glances but Hyunjin only laughs, grabbing Chan's hand and lifting it as he dutifully understands his point and spins him around. Hyunjin stumbles then, vision blurring as he tilts over clumsily, Chan catching him quickly as he falls onto his chest, a lighthearted string of giggles surging up his throat once he's caught.

"Whoa, let's take a break, yeah?" Chan smiles at him funnily before guiding him carefully away from the crowd, hand supporting his back as Hyunjin manages to make his way over to the bar without toppling over.

He groans exhaustedly as he leans against the counter, Chan ordering what sounds like a water as he pouts to a very wide-eyed looking Jisung surveying him carefully up and down. "I need a drink."

"Does Changbin know you're here?" Jisung asks, voice loud over the music once again as Hyunjin tries desperately to register what he's saying. He shrugs, limbs sluggish and slow as his head tilts giddily over to the side, a faint hum resounding from his chest.

"Hey, drink this." Chan nudges him gently to garner his attention as he hands him a glass with a clear liquid, Hyunjin accepting gingerly after inspecting it carefully.

"What is it?" His body sways, his skin starting to burn once more as he suppresses a slight whine lodged in the back of his throat. He feels feverish all over.

"Vodka," Chan says easily, to which he happily drinks from the glass, the liquid smooth and refreshing as he lets it cool the blistering fire just slightly.

His body droops on its own as he finds himself leaning languidly against Chan, eyes fluttering open and shut, open and shut as his stomach starts to clench. "I feel weird," he moans, slumping his head down on Chan's shoulder as his head starts to spin. "And horny."

"Oo-kay." Chan laughs nervously then, exchanging worried glances with Jisung as Hyunjin pouts in frustration, the dizziness swarming through him in tenfold. Fuck. He feels sick.

"Yo." Someone snaps his fingers in front of his face then, his eyes focusing after a few sluggish seconds to the very exasperated expression of a clearly stressed Jisung. "The bartender is looking at us like we drugged you. Did you take something?"

"Maybe," he giggles, his head being gently lifted by someone else as he feels his body straighten up. "Just coke."

"From who?" Jisung asks again, forehead creased and slightly agitated and yet he looks far too much like that one drawing Jia had made. Hyunjin laughs, eyes crinkling as he reaches forward to lightly poke his cheek. "Chipmunk."

Jisung's mouth drops open in shock as he glances over at Chan with a distressed look in his eye, Chan taking hold of his arm immediately as he slings it over his shoulder and places his own hand around his waist in support, shooting him a placating, convincing smile. "Let's get you outside, yeah?"

Hyunjin continues to laugh as Jisung hurriedly tries to explain something to the bartender to which he doesn't really understand but the paranoid, wide-eyed expression he carries is far too entertaining.

Still he stumbles somewhat ungracefully as Chan starts moving, supporting him further and further away from the dancefloor until a sharp tug of sadness spirals down his chest. Why are they leaving? "Wait, where are we going?"

"Just getting some fresh air," Chan says, his eyes comforting and alleviating as he looks at him. "Do you remember who you got your coke from?"

Hyunjin hums for a moment, breathing the fresh, crumbling midnight air as soon as they step outside, body swaying as he lets himself lean in heavily to Chan's side. "Didn't know him."

"You took drugs from a stranger?" Jisung asks and wait- when had Jisung gotten outside too? Hyunjin blinks, his stomach clenching uncomfortably, a sudden wave of nausea tunneling through him. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, nodding slowly as he lets his head fall onto Chan's shoulder again. He whines again, something painful squeezing around his gut. It hurts.

"We're gonna call Changbin, okay?" He can't register who says it, the words muffled and distorted as they brush past his ear and yet he knows that name, knows that name like the back of his hand, had traced its intricate curves and muscles over and over and over again in his broken, splintered mind.

A sharp sob wracks its way through his body, his head shaking in resolute denial as he clutches desperately onto the fabric of Chan's shirt. "No, no, please don't call him-"

"Hey, it's okay. Everything's gonna be okay," Chan assures him, sending him a soothing, convincing smile but Hyunjin's grip only tightens, eyes pooling with tears as bile surges up his throat.

"No please, he can't see me like this-" The rest of the words wither away immediately as his vision turns white, his stomach flaring with pain as he doubles over, his knees buckling to the ground as someone desperately tries steady him from falling but it's too late, a putrid, revolting substance purging itself straight out of his throat as his eyes water miserably.

"Oh shit," someone mutters, Hyunjin heaving pathetically up on the concrete as he continues to vomit, the nausea barreling through him in tenfold and fuck, he feels so sick, so so sick and tired and disgusting and stupid, stupid, stupid- he sobs again, unsure of whether or not he's still throwing up, his eyelids heavy and dizzying as he lets them flutter shut, head leaning sluggishly against something as his breathing turns slow.

"Hey, Hyunjin stay with us, yeah?" Fuck, he's so tired. He wants to sleep, wants to shut away the world with one swift, easy closing of the eyes. His body wants to, his tumbling brain wants to, the shrouding darkness wants him to, so why does it feel so difficult?

"Hyunjin." The name feels distant as it echoes out to him, the voice familiar, gentle, firm and yet something's wrong, something's horribly, horribly wrong. "Hyunjin!" It sounds panicked, he thinks. Panicked and sad. His heart clenches painfully.

"Hyunjin, wake up!" Fuck, he's so tired. Wake up? Is he asleep? His breathing feels shallow, his chest unbearably slow, his eyes blackened and veiled in thick, cloudlike shadows. "Hyunjin, Hyunjin!"

If he's sleeping, then why can he still hear the terrified sorrow in that voice? Maybe it's a dream, a long, winding path to tread upon, to drag him down, down, down until he can't remember the name that keeps calling out to him, miserable, horrified, a crumbling desperation that rumbles through the night. His body cracks, soul falling into splinters. Hadn't he done that already?

Though he supposes thoughts like that are futile when it comes down to it. He always does things more than once and so he collapses once more through the gentle hum of familiar, soothing whispers. He knows, knows the arms that will put him back together again. He smiles weakly, face but a ghost as lets himself fall. Over and over and over again.

Notes:

aaah please don't hate me 😫 or changbin’s mother, she’s just worried about her son!!

i think some of you may be surprised by jinyoung's reaction but i wanted to create a more complex character than just a sleazy strip club owner, someone who maybe has a completely different perspective of hyunjin that he actually could learn something from.

i hope you all enjoyed the chapter 💕🫶 see you next monday!!

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 15: Baptism

"Changbin, he was totally out of it. A complete mess. Guys kept shoving into us trying to dance with him and he didn't even notice. I had to shoo them away like some lame adult chaperone at a teenage house party. You would've totally freaked."

"Not helpful Jisung. Chan, tell me what happened."

"He told us he accepted coke from a stranger but that stuff was definitely laced with something."

"Yeah right before he puked all over Chan-"

"It was fine, I didn't really care about those clothes."

"How'd he even get free drugs anyway?"

"Pretty privilege."

"So it is real-"

"Okay as much as I appreciate this very irrelevant discussion, can we get back to the issue at hand? What do you think it was laced with?"

"Pretty sure it was GHB but I can't be certain. He was all drowsy and...well, you know."

"Oh God."

"Horny."

"Yeah Jisung, I got it."

"What, don't get mad at me! Those were his words, not mine!"

The words filter in and out of his head distorted and sluggish, passing through the air as if straining through quicksand - slowly, lazily and yet he barely manages to grasp onto any of them at all, sound turning muffled and heavy as it exhales itself through his skull.

Hyunjin groans, the rumble of conversation halting immediately as he painfully opens his eyes, mind pounding in vicious beats as he blinks rapidly to adjust to the harsh lighting overhead. His throat feels dry, sticky even as he tries to sit up straight, head registering far too late the fact that he has no idea where he is.

Someone rushes over to him instantly, steady hands supporting him into an upright position as he lets out another exhausted noise.

Hyunjin blinks again, tongue numb from where it rests heavily upon the roof of his mouth as a few fingers come across his face to gently brush away a few strands of disheveled, sweaty strands of hair.

"Hey." Hyunjin turns his head slowly toward the soft sound of the whisper, the familiar curves and slopes of Changbin's face punching right into him as his stomach grumbles unpleasantly. "How are you feeling?"

Hyunjin's face scrunches up involuntarily, brain still reeling to catch up as the fog within languidly starts to dissipate. Hesitantly he cranes his neck around, noticing for the first time that he's sitting on a navy blue couch he struggles to recognize.

He turns back to Changbin then, eyes still a little unfocused as he slumps tiredly against the side of his body, Changbin wrapping an arm around him so as to make more space. "Where am I?"

"At Chan's place," Changbin breathes out, gaze scanning across his face rapidly with streaks of a bottomless worry he finds hard to understand. Why is he looking at him like that? "Are you feeling okay? Do you remember what happened?"

Hyunjin grimaces then, head thrumming with a dull, unfurling ache that clenches its way around him with a particularly jabbing agony. Changbin reaches forward to the small black coffee table instantly and grabs a glass of water to hand him, expression twisting into one of a firm insistence. "Here. Drink this."

Hyunjin accepts it gratefully, taking small, tentative sips as the coolness soothes his throat, his mind clearing slightly as a few blurred rays of something colorful and nauseating flashes through him. Suddenly he gasps, hold on the glass loosening as he almost drops it, Changbin's instinctive reflexes snatching it out of his hand before it has the chance to spill.

Hyunjin's heart pounds, his head swiveling around the unknown room rapidly as it lands on the all too familiar faces of his memory, the night unlodging itself humiliatingly the moment his gaze falls upon them cluttered somewhat hesitantly behind the couch.

"Oh my god," he breathes out, hand coming up to cover his mouth as his eyes bulge from where they're trained mortifyingly upon Chan. "I threw up on you."

Chan gives him an appeasing smile instantly, the gentle glimmer in his gaze doing nothing to relieve the horrific embarrassment coursing through him. "Don't worry about that. I never cared about that shirt anyway."

"I'm so sorry." His chest constricts tightly then, eyes pooling with regret as his fingers clutch instinctively around the fabric of own pants in comfort. "I'll buy you a new one, I promise."

Chan waves him off lightheartedly, shaking his head. Jisung only looks nervously between him and Changbin, his expression difficult to discern. "Seriously, it's not that big of a deal."

Jisung gives him a lopsided smile then, nudging Chan playfully in the ribs. "That shirt was ugly anyway. You did the world a favor actually."

Chan rolls his eyes in a joking irritation, Hyunjin emitting forth a weak, entirely too strained laugh as his headache starts grating harshly against his skull. Changbin reaches gently for his hand then, diverting his attention back to him, his face still contorted into one of a sorrowful gravity, undoubtedly finding nothing humorous about the situation.

Hyunjin swallows nervously then, recollections of the night before surging through him unwillingly, his stomach hardening as he tries not to let the shame throttle him to dust.

"Are you okay?" Changbin asks again, forehead creased as his hold on his hand tightens. Hyunjin smiles back wobbly, uncertain of how easy it would be for it to come peeling right off. "Yeah, I just..." he pauses for a second, gut swirling anxiously, "my head hurts, is all."

Changbin nods in understanding, handing him the glass of water instantly as he bites his lip. "You should eat something, you threw up a lot. Is there anything you want?"

Hyunjin finishes drinking from the glass, the idea of eating anything making his stomach ache in nausea. "No, I...I'm really not hungry."

Changbin's eyebrows furrow, mouth curving into a solemn frown. "Do you remember what happened?"

Regret floods him instantly, his fingers trembling from where they're held in the protective grasp of Changbin's clutch. Changbin squeezes them back comfortingly in response. "Um, sort of." His lower lip wobbles, eyes falling cowardly down into his own lap. "I remember being at the club, taking something and then...well, getting sick. I uh, I don't remember anything after that."

Changbin nods, shooting a quick, steadfast look in Jisung and Chan's direction as they seemingly understand whatever it is he's conveying, the two of them shuffling awkwardly into another room and closing the door to leave them alone.

Suddenly the air feels entirely too serious, the gravity of the situation dragging his heavy heart down, down, down until becomes uncomfortably lodged in the pits of his stomach. Hyunjin swallows again, eyes glassy as he turns them back to look at Changbin.

"You took cocaine from a stranger," Changbin starts tone dense and much too somber, "but it was laced with something. We think it was GHB."

Hyunjin stares for a moment, the wheels in his mind whirring slowly as it tries to seep within it any semblance of understanding. For a second he wishes he could turn to his bumbling, steady ignorance, an uncomfortable, needlelike pinprick quivering down his bones. "You mean...like the date rape drug?"

Changbin nods gravely then, eyes pooling with worry as something heavy settles with a pitiful, shame-exuding thud in his gut. His eyes burn slightly, humiliation scratching incessantly in the back of his head.

"But nothing happened," Changbin reassures him quickly, hands gripping onto his in comfort as Hyunjin takes a shaky breath. "Chan and Jisung took care of you. When you started getting drowsy they took you outside, they called me and you vomited quite a bit. Then you passed out and we brought you here, to Chan's apartment."

Changbin bites his lip then, body pulsating with a low yet groaning sort of restlessness Hyunjin recognizes far too well within his own brittle limbs. "You passed out yes, but other than that you seemed okay. Your heartrate was normal, your pulse was steady and you kept drifting in and out of consciousness."

Hyunjin nods in a somewhat diffused acceptance, not able to reflect in himself the same concern Changbin carries. In a way it seems almost as if Changbin speaks more for the sake of reassuring his own terrified mind than anything Hyunjin struggles to grasp onto though perhaps the idea never occurs to Changbin at all.

Hyunjin says nothing for a few seconds, eyes trained heavily upon his own lap before filtering slowly around the room, gaze too scattered with a dense fog of guilt to properly see anything. "What time is it?" He whispers, the unfurling of something strangled and rifted tumbling through his throat as he turns his head back to look at Changbin.

"Early morning," he says, taking a deep, rattled sounding breath. "Around 5AM."

Something agonizing strikes within him then, gut clenching viciously in shame as he buries his face in his hands, begging, pleading desperately to something he's sure he'll never reach not to let his eyes spill over.

"Oh God." His voice trembles then, words shaky and weak as they fall pitifully through the air. He digs the palms of his hand harsher into his sockets, vision speckled with aching, white dots. He doesn't think he can look Changbin in the eye, not now, not after yet another humiliating collapse for him to tiredly piece back together again. "What-what about Jia?"

"It's okay," Changbin says, hands coming up to wrap themselves around him, Hyunjin's body quivering in response as he tries not to cry, "my mom was already spending the night."

An unsteady sob filters its way through his hands, the sound muffled and miserable as he tries to settle his breathing. "No it's not okay, I-I'm such a mess," his lungs constrict tightly then, chest heaving rapidly up and down as his words turn to ragged, incoherent mumbles.

He's so fucking stupid, so so fucking stupid, his stomach clenching and clenching as he struggles to exhale. "I made you come rescue me in the middle of the night again when you should be home with your daughter-"

His words wither away painfully as his breath escapes him, punctures tingling his skin in that panicked, all too familiar inability to speak. "Hey, breathe, okay?" Changbin grabs gently at the hands obscuring his face, trembling tears streaming down his cheeks as Changbin tilts his head up, forcing him to look him in the eye.

Hyunjin quivers, lower lip wobbling as Changbin bores into him with all the assurance and compassion he can muster. Selfishly, he clings onto it, lungs taking hold of each word as if the road to a steady exhalation. "Like I said, my mom was already there and Jia was sound asleep by the time they called me. Of all the things to be concerned about, my sleep schedule isn't one of them."

Changbin smiles weakly then, though it does nothing to stop the influx of tears blurring his vision. "You could've seriously gotten hurt if Chan and Jisung weren't there. Of course I came when they called me, you matter to me. So much." Changbin squeezes his hands again, eyes scattered with a thousand emotions that barrel their way straight into him with so much force Hyunjin can but take a deep, shaky breath. "More than you know."

For a while he says nothing, pitiful sniffles seeping their way out of him as Changbin continues to stare with that gentle, worried, all too sincere look and Hyunjin hates it, detests how even after everything, after promise upon promise of nothing but a tattered, destructive soul, Changbin still carries within him such a look. Too pure, too good, too human for his weathered, ragdoll heart.

"Why did you leave?" Changbin breathes out, the words quiet and frightened as if their mere existence could leave him crumbling to the ground. A strangled cry surges its way up Hyunjin's throat, eyes watery and untethered. "I was really sad when I saw all your stuff was gone."

"I-I just..." A loud, horrific sob wracks through his body then as his breathing turns erratic, muscles trembling with everything that had slowly been festering in the back of his head all these years - the creeping, steady decay of any remnants of humanity he'd weakly held onto out of the fear of its escape.

Changbin only holds onto him tighter, his sobs twisting into pained, deteriorating wails from his touch. "Changbin, I can't, I can't do this. I'm not-you and Jia are-are so good and I'm just-I'm like a storm and-and you don't deserve that and-"

"Hey, calm down." Changbin's words are firm and commanding as he speaks, hands grabbing securely onto his arms as if to anchor him down. Hyunjin swallows, body trembling as he gives him a meek, terror-woven look. Changbin's eyes bleed nothing but a desperate warmth. "Breathe. What is it you're trying to say?"

Exhaling deeply, Hyunjin bites his lip as he tries not to cry even further, Sora's words ringing gratingly throughout his head, her utterance like a slithering, jabbing curse to throttle him with. And yet she was right, she was right, her misgivings nothing but a shrouded veil of a truth too painful to admit.

"Everything I touch falls apart, everything I touch turns to ruin. I'm not good for either you or Jia, I know I'm going to fuck things up. You deserve someone better, someone that isn't such a- such a mess." Hyunjin's lip wobbles again, tears springing from his eyes as he looks into Changbin hopelessly, desperate, pleading through a wicked sense of self-destruction for him to understand, to agree, to see the marred disfigurement of his soul the way it was meant to be seen.

"And I'm not-I'm not saying it to get your pity or...or sympathy, I just can't do this to you anymore. I'm not-I'm not meant for these kinds of things."

"What kinds of things?" Changbin asks, the words quiet and almost haunting as they echo within the air between them.

"Family." He trembles, determined despite his shakiness to for once not be selfish. "Being cared for. Taking responsibility." He sniffles then, eyes flitting away painfully back down into his lap. He can't stand it - looking at something he'll never be worthy of having. "You deserve someone better."

"Hyunjin." Changbin takes hold of his face softly, turning it back up toward him as he drains himself of every fragment of sincerity he carries within. "You don't get a say in what I deserve or not. I like you. I want you, not someone else, not someone 'better.' Frankly I don't even know what you mean by that."

A single tear waters itself down his cheek, Changbin quick to wipe it away as Hyunjin's heart shatters once more. "It makes me sad you can't see how special you are, how much light you bring. I know it's hard to accept when you aren't used to it but you make me happy, Hyunjin. Happy. Is that what you're referring to when you say I don't deserve you? I don't deserve the joy you create?"

Hyunjin shakes his head, no, no, no, that's- how could Changbin not see, how could he not feel the splattered ridges of his flesh melting right in front of him? Hyunjin takes a deep breath, gaze desperate as it stares into him. "How can you- how can you even say that after everything? You had to rescue me in the middle of the night at some shitty club because I blacked out and you still say I make you happy? I don't- I don't get it."

Changbin squeezes his hands once again, voice littered with small pearls of fear as he speaks. "When I saw you tonight, I admit I was terrified. Seeing you like that...even the thought of potentially losing you scares the shit out of me. But it doesn't make me like you any less, if anything, all it does is remind me how much you mean to me, how absolutely crazy I am about you. The thought of suddenly living life without you...I don't want to think about it. And I know it sounds daunting to be so attached to someone, to care so much to the point of risking getting hurt but what people don't realize, is that it's a privilege, not something to be scared of. Letting someone in to the point where life turns gray without them just means it gets so much brighter with them there. That's how I feel about you. I'm serious about this, Hyunjin. I thought you were too."

His chest fills itself with thick, dense kernels of sand, their heavy weight seeping out of him in painful, betraying trickles. Changbin's eyes hold within them a lifetime of affection, so much care and warmth to be wasted away upon someone like him. "I am, I-I want to be but I don't know how, I've never...I've never..."

"I know you've never been in a relationship before." Changbin takes hold of his face once again, caressing him gently. "It's okay, Hyunjin, it's okay to be scared."

How could he possibly begin to understand, to fathom the grit torn beneath his flesh, the naturalness of which he's meant to live castaway and shadowed, forever nothing but a ghost, an ephemeral passing of time to indulge in selfish pleasures.

Of course Changbin wouldn't understand, honed from goodness and hope. Hyunjin's hands tremble once more. "No, it's not just that. I've never...done anything meaningful before, I've never felt like this, I've never been close to anyone in a normal...non-fucked up way."

He takes a deep breath, stomach rolling in sudden waves of nausea. If only Changbin knew. Hyunjin's insides crumble at just the thought. "I don't...I don't know how to be a person that-that fits into a family, that fits into anything that lasts."

Hyunjin stares into Changbin then, eyes leaking and honest, pulsating with a fragile, terror-woven truth. Changbin's hands come back to gripping his fingers, squeezing them as if desperate not to let go. "That's something we can work on together, you said you wanted to try, didn't you?"

Sora's words sear against his skull, hard, glaring, tearing him apart bit by bit. His eyes swarm with glistening teardrops once more, the ache in his heart expanding all across his ribcage, weeping its way out, out, out into a stinging, mournful truth. "I do but..."

"Then you have to let me in," Changbin insists, Hyunjin's gaze engraving within it each curve and sharp determination of his face. "I know it's hard, I know it's difficult admitting things that you might not even be able to fully understand but if you want this to work, then you need to make that step. I believe you can do it, I know you can do it but I can't force you to unless you want to make that change."

Hyunjin doesn't know how to respond to that, ears ringing with a strangled, impending sense of doom as Changbin continues to stare at him, hope and willfulness sloping their way through each miniscule tug of his eyes. "Hyunjin, you have a drug problem."

"I-"

"Please," Changbin speaks resolutely then, gentleness still seeping through his voice as Hyunjin's chest compresses together tightly, limbs freezing in a desperate surge of denial. "Don't make excuses, it never works."

He thinks his fingers might have begun to quiver then, though he can't be sure, Changbin smoothening them over as if second nature by now. "I know it may not feel like it, maybe you think it's just a fluke or completely normal, harmless even. It isn't. And I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad or to judge you, I'm telling you because I know what it's like."

Hyunjin can tell just how serious Changbin is then, each word sifting through the air as if spewed from a blue, hypnotizing fire, Hyunjin latching onto them despite the searing blisters he knows will litter his skin in return. "Being high every shift isn't normal, accepting drugs from strangers isn't normal, purposefully seeking out drugs from strangers in order to take your mind off things isn't normal. I know you said earlier that you do it just for fun, but we both know that's a lie. You do it because you feel like you need to do it, because living becomes exhausting without it. Am I wrong?"

"No," he whispers, eyes glassy once more, a small, fragile admittance unfurling itself between them as his limbs fill with ice. He's pretty sure he can't move, stuck frozen and immobile as his own words terrify him to the core. "You're not wrong."

"That isn't normal, either." Changbin's eyes soften then, hands coming briefly up to tuck a few strands behind his ear. "You have an addiction Hyunjin. And I'm not...I'm not asking you to become sober just like that, I know that shit is difficult but please, if you want us to work, then let me in. Let me help you. Start by admitting that you have a problem. Admitting it doesn't give it more power, it gives it less power."

Hyunjin nods, heart filling with something dense and unrecognizable as a slow, sluggish form of understanding begins to unravel itself. He doesn't have a problem, he doesn't have a problem, he doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't-

"You're right." Tears brim their way to spillage as he speaks, words hushed and laced with a deadly, gut-wrenching truth. He wants so badly to become someone worthy of the man before him, someone pure enough to care for, someone human enough to deserve it.

His lower lip trembles. "I do...I do sometimes rely on drugs to get through the day." Changbin gives him a soothing nod of assurance, his eyes a mere mirror of Hyunjin's own, tear-streaked ones. "It's just that...well...without them I start thinking too much."

His skin itches then, eyelids fluttering shut for a second as he crumbles that three-leafed clover with all the might his withering mind can muster. He wishes he could uproot it, could shred it apart into shards of sand that would simply slip through his fingers should he ever try to count them all. He knows he won't. His grip has never been that strong.

"And I'm-I'm incapable of thinking like a normal person, it's like my mind becomes this...this prison I can't get out of and then there are all these things I need to do and it's just so tiring, it's so, so tiring."

Changbin says nothing for a few, wispy seconds that billow between them, hand squeezing over him comfortingly as he unravels himself in a low, hushed voice. "You mean like cleaning and counting? Doing things in threes?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin whispers, body tensing as he succumbs to the defeat of his own admittance, a secret, an agonizing, sharp puncture of the knife he'd successfully kept lodged within his heart all these years.

"Drugs are never the real issue, they're just distractions." Now it's been thrusted out, blade dripping with red as his chest bleeds to pitiful pieces. "A way for us to forget about things that are too painful."

He hopes his own decaying limbs and flesh will be the only ones stained, eyes brimming with tears as the darkening realization that it's already too late for such wishful thinking strikes him in waves.

"I'm so sorry," he sobs once more, weeping away the salt of his veins with each tremble of his body, Changbin holding onto him protectively, consolingly as Hyunjin lets himself fall apart.

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothes, rubbing his back as Hyunjin clings onto every little touch with selfish, desperate desire. "Baby steps, yeah? I know it all seems overwhelming right now."

Hyunjin manages to calm down eventually, cries turning into shaky sniffles as he eventually manages to stare him back in the eyes, watery, glossy streaks carving their way right out of him. "How about we go to your place, you can pack your things, take a shower, maybe even a nap if you want to and then you can spend the night at my place?"

"I don't want to be alone," he whispers, words thick and frightened from the years of which it had been steadily honed upon his tongue.

Changbin gives him a steady, affectionate smile. Hyunjin latches onto it with all the slipping strength he still has left. "You can hang out at the studio if you want."

Hyunjin nods, grateful, shameful, too tired to not let himself sink into the arms of someone else, someone strong and caring and good - too good, too good for someone like him. Yet exhaustion becomes him. He's too drained for such bumbling, scorching thoughts.

Changbin takes him home to his own apartment then, his heart heavy in a sore yet comfortable swell as if forming itself like the pleasant stretching of limbs.

Changbin, much to Hyunjin's own aching dread of submitting to yet another tiresome, blood-seeping shower, decides to help him, stripping him gently as Hyunjin hesitantly lets him in beneath the blistering droplets of a flesh-tearing water, his firm hands rubbing soapy, tender circles into his back as Hyunjin lets his head lull exhaustedly against the tiles.

There's nothing sullied or unchaste beneath the scalding cascades of water then, only a soothing, quiet blooming of fondness between them as Changbin carefully helps him get clean. The promise of Changbin's reassuring presence renders him pliant and calm within his arms, his head for once falling into a steady, faraway hum.

His shower remains detached and long gone from any ritualistic slaughter he otherwise would've fallen into, his skin still intact and pretty as soon as he steps out, Changbin supporting him around his waist as he lets his body slump tiredly into his side.

Hyunjin lets him dry him off and dress him, limbs woven as if a mere doll to be used and yet it feels more comforting than it does weak as he eventually settles into his bed with Changbin next to him. He trusts him, he realizes, in a deeper, far more terrifying way than simply letting him take care of him - he would, even in the most dire, most heart wrenching of situations, always be there to put him back together again.

His heart squeezes as Changbin wraps his arms around him, the two of them falling into a peaceful, dreamless escape as the early morning continues to unravel itself upon the sky.

Hyunjin registers nothing of his time spent asleep, eyes blinking open sluggishly the moment Changbin gently rattles him awake, time for them to go. Hyunjin follows him along to the studio with the slow shedding of his exhaustion as he lets the day disentangle itself plainly, without worry, without thought.

Hyunjin watches him tattoo various people from behind the desk, Changbin glancing over to him every now and then to give him a warm, fluttery smile that Hyunjin soaks in all too greedily each time it's cast his way.

As Changbin finishes up with his last client, Hyunjin walks hesitantly over to the other corner of the room, Chan sitting concentratedly behind his desk as he illustrates something in a notebook, Jisung sitting right next to him as he talks animatedly about something Hyunjin doesn't understand.

Chan doesn't seem to mind Jisung's incessant babbling despite quite clearly working on something important, nodding along every few seconds to some point or argument Jisung quite passionately makes.

Deciding that it probably won't do any harm, Hyunjin walks right up to them with a nervous, jittery coil in his gut. They both look up at him at the same time, eyes wide and inquisitive as humiliation surges through him once again.

"I um...I wanted to apologize," he starts, hands wringing themselves anxiously as he forces himself to remain eye contact. "I'm really sorry for...for being such a mess." His face grimaces as he directs himself to Chan, eyes pooling with regret. "And throwing up on you. Please let me buy you a new shirt, I feel horrible."

Chan only smiles then, expression carefree and gentle as he waves it off. "Seriously, it's no biggie. Call it even for that time we got so plastered we showed up at your club?"

"Okay." He grins somewhat weakly, the nerves in his stomach dissipating slightly. "Deal. Thank you for helping me. Really."

"Of course." Chan's eyes crinkle warmly, words nothing but sincere. "Changbin really likes you, you know. We've never seen him like this."

"Yeah it's a little annoying actually," Jisung quips, Hyunjin unable to stop his lips from stretching as Changbin pointedly makes his way over, gym bag slung over his shoulder ready to leave for the day.

"You always talk about me like I'm not right here."

"Admit it," Jisung points, glancing quickly over to Hyunjin as he grins. "Hyunjin saved your life. You hadn't gotten laid in like two years before he came along."

"Yeah and how long has it been since you've gotten laid?" Changbin raises an eyebrow then, Chan laughing quietly from behind his desk. "I have a child to take care of, what's your excuse?"

"I get plenty of action thank you very much," Jisung insists, though his face heats up in embarrassment.

Chan only rolls his eyes, eyes still firmly concentrated upon his illustration. "Para-social relationships with anime characters don't count."

Hyunjin laughs in amusement as Jisung and Chan start bickering back and forth with one another, a usual habit he's come to find, as Changbin only gives them an exasperated look before taking his hand in his and leading him outside the studio.

Hyunjin smiles happily on the way to the kindergarten, mind already much more at ease as they walk in a comfortable, carefree chatter. Unlike the first time he'd somehow weaseled his way into picking up Jia, his stomach buzzes with a low, fluttery excitement instead of the gut-wrenching nerves that had consumed him before.

The inside of the building greets him with bright, exuberant colors as Changbin makes his way in, Hyunjin following steadily in tow as they walk up to the familiar sight of a polite Ms. Kim bidding the children goodbye as they run out to meet their parents.

Hyunjin internally rolls his eyes at the way she beams delightedly the second Changbin comes up to greet her, her smile faltering in the blink of an eye once her gaze lands on Hyunjin right next to him.

Clearly she wasn't thrilled to be seeing him again, but her face morphs itself into that pearly facade of friendliness before anyone has the chance to even notice it. Hyunjin's eyes narrow slightly. He definitely notices it.

"Hi," Changbin smiles, glimpsing quickly over to Hyunjin as if to check that he's okay before his gaze lands back on Ms. Kim. "Is Jia ready yet?"

"She's just putting away some toys." Ms. Kim very pointedly doesn't spare him a second glance as if hoping he'll simply evaporate should she just ignore him. Hyunjin swallows a scoff, leaning closer to Changbin instinctively.

Somewhere in the distance an excited shriek echoes for reasons unbeknownst to him, body flinching slightly from the shock as children twist their way around the wardrobe area with loud, chaotic babbles seemingly completely normal to anyone else but him judging from the lack of reaction around him.

Still the noise grates against his ear, something Ms. Kim picks up on immediately as if eager to gauge any slip up he makes, her body twisting towards him slightly as her feigned smile widens. Hyunjin tries to stifle a gag.

"So, Jia told me you two are together," she says, her expression laced with something Hyunjin can't quite discern, an almost desperate, self-convincing stretch of disbelief tight around her eyes. "Isn't it funny how children just imagine things like that?"

"Oh, she's right actually," Changbin laughs lightly, completely oblivious to the way her eye twitches. Hyunjin almost snorts at her expression, plastering on instead the same sweet, artificial smile she always sends him. "We are together."

"Oh." Hyunjin can practically see the cogs in her head begin to malfunction, the look of astonishment on her face born from nothing but horror and yet she masks it quickly enough, expression slipping into the one of a worn-out neutral politeness.

"That's wonderful!" Hesitantly she diverts her gaze to him, her eyes flashing something cold and jarring despite the rigid beam she carries. "So...should I add you to the pick-up list?"

"Yes," Hyunjin answers unwaveringly before Changbin can ask him if that would be okay, smile sickly sweet as Ms. Kim's jaw clenches in response. Irritation seeps its way straight into his gut. "That would be great."

Ms. Kim nods briskly before she misses the chance to say anything in response, Jia's buzzing, energetic limbs barreling through the classroom door as a bright grin weaves its way across her face. "Daddy!"

Changbin manages to crouch down and hug her before she would have inevitably crashed from the speed in which she runs, smile dazzling as Jia wraps her small arms around his neck. "Hey, jellyfish."

Jia continues to grin as she pulls away, her long black hair entirely disheveled and littered with loose butterfly pins as Changbin gives her an amused look. "What happened to your hair?"

Jia only ignores him, retreating away from her father as she walks over to Hyunjin, smile excited before promptly grabbing his hand and tugging him forward, ready once more to introduce him. If only Jia knew the people she always introduced him to were the ones practically begging for her not to.

"Ms. Kim, this is Hyunjinnie," she chirps, glancing up at Hyunjin proudly before looking back to her teacher. Hyunjin's irritation fades away instantly, unable to stop the smile that carves its way across his face. "He made my braid yesterday, the one you liked! Remember?"

"Oh, that was you?" Ms. Kim gives him a vacant, entirely unreadable expression. She looks a little constipated he thinks, swallowing a laugh as he nods satisfactorily. "Well...it was very pretty."

"Can you make one right now?" Jia turns to him eagerly before he has a chance to say anything, eyes brimming with excitement as Hyunjin nods in return, stomach flooding with a familiar, all-encompassing fondness. "Sure. Do you have a hair brush?"

Jia nods vigorously as she drags him to her cubby, Changbin sending them both a beaming smile before Ms. Kim promptly diverts his attention back to her, Jia jumping up on the bench in front of her dressing space as she reaches for a purple hairbrush and a few strewn hairbands up in the little shelf beneath the laminated jellyfish with her name on it.

Hyunjin accepts it hesitantly as he sits down on the bench, limbs freezing with the panic of unseen germs but he forces it away as soon as Jia stands herself in front of him between her legs, brushing haphazardly through her hair as she waits in excitement.

Hyunjin laughs quietly, her attempt to smoothen out her hair only making it messier before he gently ropes it into smaller groups and starts to brush.

"Did you have a good day?" He asks, eyes concentrated upon disentangling every strand without accidentally hurting her, Jia nodding firmly in response before chatting animatedly about all the drawings she'd made. Hyunjin can't help the smile that weaves itself across his face automatically, the way her energy makes her struggle to stand still far too endearing.

"Are you and Ms. Kim fighting?" She asks suddenly, Hyunjin freezing at the question as he stares at the back of her head quizzically, knowing full well she can't see him.

"What? No." He glances quickly over to where Ms. Kim and Changbin are still engaged in conversation, Ms. Kim seemingly pointing to some flier on the wall and yet standing entirely too close to him. He grumbles quietly under his breath, diverting his attention back to Jia as he continues to brush. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I told her about you and she asked me lots of questions," Jia explains, her tone sounding slightly confused. "She seemed mad."

Hyunjin frowns, annoyance seeping back into his gut as he starts to separate her hair into three, thick sets. "What did she ask?"

"She asked me if you were nice and I said yes and then she said are you sure and I said you were really cool and that you were a dancer like me and really pretty and then she seemed mad." Jia finishes with a bewildered sounding huff as he gently starts to braid, frown deepening at her words. He feels strangely protective all of the sudden.

"Mad at you?"

"No, just mad," Jia shrugs, seemingly not all that bothered. "Her face went all funny." Hyunjin only purses his lips, not knowing how he's supposed to respond as he continues to entwine her hair concentratedly.

He can tell that Jia falls into deep thought then, her body stilling entirely as she succumbs to some sort of reflection. "Grown ups always pretend like they don't get mad or sad, but they do. I think it's bad to hide your feelings because...well..." she pauses for a moment as if thinking of how to explain herself and he can almost imagine how her eyebrows scrunch up in a slight frustration, "if you have so many feelings inside of you, one day you might explode! So it's better to always talk about it."

"Oh yeah?" Hyunjin hums, amused by the maturity of her insight. "Who told you that, huh, your dad?"

"No, grandma did," Jia states, sighing quietly to herself. "Daddy is bad at telling his feelings."

"Really?" Hyunjin finishes tying the end of her braid with a hair band, satisfied by his work as he gently taps Jia on the shoulder to signal that he's done. Jia spins around immediately as she touches her braid as if to examinate it, giving him a shy smile once she seemingly comes to the conclusion that it's good enough.

"Yeah..." she continues, sitting down on the bench next to him as she looks into him with wide, genuine eyes. "Sometimes he gets mad or sad but he pretends like he doesn't."

Hyunjin thinks for a moment, Jia peering into him inquisitively as if awaiting an answer. It feels strange he thinks, having a child more than willingly listen to what he has to say as if he knew anything worth knowing at all. "Well...sometimes adults do that because they don't want others to worry about them."

"Why?" Jia's face scrunches up in confusion then, lips turning into a small pout. "If you're worried doesn't it mean that you care about someone?"

Taken aback by her logic, Hyunjin halts for a second, impressed all of the sudden by her sensibleness. "Yes, it does...it's a little stupid actually. Most grown ups are because we overthink things."

"What does that mean?" Jia asks, standing up as she reaches for her denim, sea otter-patched jacket and putting it on.

"That you think too much."

"And that's bad?" Jia looks beyond confused now as if the idea of thinking too much simply didn't exist in her mind, hopping down from the bench as she looks around for her red rainboots.

"Sometimes it can be, because you start thinking so much that you think things that aren't true."

Hyunjin frowns then, uncertainty tunneling through him once more. How much do children understand about things like that? Still it seems unfair to simplify things to the point of rendering them hollow...Jia seemed much smarter than a lot of adults he'd come across. "Like if your dad is angry or sad, he doesn't want you to know because he thinks that then you might be sad, so he keeps it to himself. Even though he probably shouldn't."

"But..." Jia's forehead creases in bewilderment as Hyunjin subconsciously starts looking for her rainboots along with her. "How can he feel better if he doesn't tell somebody?"

He spots them scattered carelessly beneath some other child's cubby, grabbing onto them and handing them over to Jia as her question lingers densely in his mind. "He can't..."

Jia opens her mouth to undoubtedly ask another question judging by the still very much confused look upon her face before Changbin suddenly makes his way over, grinning brightly as his eyes light up. "Hey, you guys ready?"

Jia nods eagerly as she drags her red boots onto her feet, hopping up on the bench once again as her eyes turn big and pleading toward her father. "Can I piggyback pleaseee?"

Changbin smiles, gesturing vaguely to both her backpack and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. "I have to carry your backpack-"

"I can carry it," Hyunjin says, Changbin turning to him to blink in surprise as Jia grins excitedly. Smiling fondly, Changbin hands him her backpack as he takes his own bag in his hands before crouching down enough in front of the bench for Jia to latch onto. "Alright. Jump on."

Jia does so immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck as Changbin lifts her up, Hyunjin watching them with a happy, fluttery smile as they all walk out back into the street, the sun mellow as it spills in gentle rays across their backs.

Apparently in a dire need to go to the grocery store, Hyunjin follows them happily inside as he tries not to let the grating clashing of the discordant colors prickle his skin. Somehow it's easy to divert his focus to other, more exuberant things, especially as Jia's bright, bouncing body practically tries to jump into the shopping cart as soon as Changbin gets one.

"Can I sit in it pleaseee?" She begs, hands on the railing as the heels of her feet rock eagerly back and forth.

"Jia, I think you're a little too old to sit in the cart." Changbin gives her a stern look as Jia visibly deflates, a large pout gracing her face as Changbin breaks into a grin. "Just kidding."

Jia hardly has time to react before he crouches down and promptly swings her into the cart, Jia bursting out in a string of satisfied giggles as she makes herself comfortable. "Life lesson number one," Changbin starts, smiling still as he starts to push her forward, "you're never too old to sit in a shopping cart."

Jia grins gleefully as they maneuver their way around the grocery aisles, Changbin's face scrunching up every few seconds at the prices as Jia keeps pointing to items they probably don't need - most of them all suspiciously high in sugar and boxed in colorful, cartoonish displays - to which Changbin repeatedly has to say no.

Jia groans each time and yet continues valiantly in her pursuits, even begging them to have ice cream for dinner to which Changbin only gives her a knowing, resolute look.

Hyunjin laughs at her exasperated expression before Changbin leans in to his side to whisper lowly. "Being a parent is hard - I'm supposed to say no to ice cream for dinner as if that isn't an amazing idea?" He sighs playfully as Hyunjin giggles, pushing the cart forward into the breakfast aisle as Jia gasps immediately.

"Can we get that one?" She points eagerly to a bright red cereal box in front of her, almost sloping her body straight out of the cart as she turns to look at Changbin with wide, desperate eyes. "Pleaseee?"

Changbin looks pained then, Hyunjin thinks, undoubtedly finding it difficult to constantly say no to such a face. "Jia, there's so much sugar in that," he sighs, shaking his head. "At least finish the one we have at home first."

Jia only huffs as Hyunjin clutches Changbin's arm, successfully diverting his attention back to him as he droops his lips into a pleading pout. "Aww, but that one's my favorite."

Changbin stares at him for far too long without saying anything, Hyunjin continuing to contort his face into one of an endearing desperation until Changbin at last gives up with an exasperated groan. "Damn, you two are killing me." He shakes his head in disbelief before reaching forward for the cereal box as Jia cheers delightedly.

Hyunjin grins teasingly as Changbin turns back to look at him, hands still grasped around his arm. "You love it."

"I do." There's a slow, unwinding second in which Hyunjin thinks he might lean forward and kiss him, his chest fluttering excitedly all of the sudden as if he'd never felt such binding sweetness caress him before. Unfortunately - or perhaps luckily for the spiraling of his gut - Jia interrupts them loudly, gasping excitedly as she points over to somewhere in the distance. "Look! There's Charlotte!"

Changbin snaps his neck back to look at where Jia is gesturing to, Hyunjin following begrudgingly with a disappointed sigh in the back of his head as Jia waves enthusiastically to a little blonde girl holding a package of strawberries.

Hyunjin has no idea who Charlotte is, but as soon as her father steps into view his heart freezes, an uncomfortable punch to his stomach as the man who most definitely had recognized him from his first kindergarten visit cranes his head to look in the direction of Jia's voice.

He doesn't particularly know why he feels so strange all of the sudden, nerves brewing within him even more as who he assumes to be Charlotte's mother comes over to politely greet them. Charlotte skips happily over to glance up at Jia still sitting in the shopping cart as Jia starts excitedly showing her all the grocery items she's surrounded by.

Hyunjin zones out reluctantly as Changbin and Charlotte's mother engage in obligatory, absolutely mind-numbing small talk - although he admits he doesn't particularly pay much attention to their conversation, focusing instead on pretending like he doesn't very much notice the way her husband keeps staring at him.

A sudden wave of guilt crashes through him then, an unfamiliar feeling of disgust wrapping itself around him. Hyunjin's jaw hardens, body leaning in instinctively closer to Changbin even though he has absolutely no idea why he feels so...gross for something that certainly isn't his fault. He can't help it that closeted married men decide to seek something thrilling for once in the secret of the night and yet still, he aches desperately for a shower.

Changbin introduces him briefly to Charlotte's mother who all but smiles at him sweetly, the acid in his gut souring as he gives her a small, tight hello. Thankfully Changbin seems to notice his distress, excusing themselves away quickly after as Jia bids a heartfelt goodbye to a waving Charlotte. As soon as they make themselves to the register, Changbin raises an eyebrow in his direction, an unreadable expression snaking its way across his face.

"That guy definitely recognized you," he says, voice low and strange as Jia enthusiastically places the grocery items onto the conveyor belt.

Hyunjin only hums as he tilts his head, guilt disentangling itself in waves. "I'm quite famous, didn't you know?"

Changbin smiles at his little joke, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as Hyunjin's lips tug upward in surprise. "Just tell me if he makes you uncomfortable, yeah?"

Hyunjin nods, the heavy feeling in his gut evaporating at the caring glimmer in Changbin's eyes, happiness expanding within him for reasons he can't explain. With Jia now heavily engaged in some discussion with the cashier, Hyunjin offers incessantly to help pay for the amount of groceries to which Changbin firmly rejects time after time.

Rolling his eyes, Hyunjin stops eventually, feeling ridiculous at the amount of money he has that never ends up being spent. Still he doesn't want to overstep any boundaries, helping instead by carrying the grocery bags on the way back outside, Jia skipping along in front of them as she hums contentedly on some song.

Hyunjin feels for the remainder of that sweet, unfurling day as if honed and carved perfectly to fit into a puzzle piece he'd long thought to be too delicate for his jagged edges, the three of them existing in continuous streams of laughter all the way home.

It feels strange to call Changbin's apartment home, his heart still heavy and yet entirely too aware of the fact that it isn't. Still he cherishes the word for a few seconds as they linger in his mind, Changbin starting on dinner the moment the door closes behind them as Jia very enthusiastically drags him into her room in order to play.

He feels slightly guilty always leaving Changbin to cook alone and yet the warm, tender smile he sends his way alleviates it instantly. Rather rigorously, he makes sure to wash his hands in the bathroom before he follows Jia into her room, the ceaseless warnings of germs searing into him dully in the back of his head.

He pushes it harshly to the side as soon as Jia hands him his now designated mermaid princess doll, his imagination flourishing in pathways he'd long since forgotten as Jia starts to concoct a story about the two of them having to undertake a dangerous adventure to rescue Edgar the Otter from pirates so that he can be reunited with his wife.

Hyunjin laughs lightheartedly to each exclamation or wild, spinning turn of the tale that Jia creates, her excitement growing steadily along the way as if invigored by his own devoted engagement. Despite the innocent childishness that very clearly separates Jia from him, Hyunjin revels in the time spent together, the simple act of playing with toys much too fun, he thinks, for someone his age.

A small, almost satisfied, completed swell resonates within his chest then, bitterness exuding only in miniscule drops of something he's never once had. That isn't true, he supposes, as they at last manage to reach the cave where Edgar is held captive. He has it now. Maybe it's too late to repair the deeply cut rifts within him and yet he cherishes it all the same, clutching onto it tightly, protectively, desperate not to let it go.

As soon as Edgar is rescued, an idea pops into his head and he hurries over to where his own bag is placed inside the kitchen, eagerly fishing forth Bunny as Changbin gives him an amused smile from behind the counter. Grinning back, Hyunjin only waves aimlessly as if in a haste before walking back to Jia's room and showing him off excitedly.

Jia audibly gasps as she gently touches Bunny, stroking his velvet fur and smiling affectionately. She seems to grow even more satisfied once she realizes that adults too, can in fact own teddy bears, to which she resolutely promises that she will when she grows up.

"Did your mommy give you that?" She asks, eyes glittering with something difficult to discern as she continues to caress Bunny tenderly.

"No," is all he says, heart squeezing painfully for some reason as he gives her a warm smile. "Your dad did."

Jia nods somewhat distractedly, gaze still trained intently upon Bunny as a faraway, almost pensive look shrouds itself across her face. "My mommy is dead."

Hyunjin straightens himself slightly, stomach punctured by a sudden wave of nerves and yet it dissipates as quickly as it had arrived as soon as he realizes that there isn't much sadness to Jia's voice, more of a distant, difficult to fully catch onto shimmer of longing. "But it's okay. She's in the sky, with the stars."

"Yeah." He gives her a warm, gentle smile. "She is."

Jia nods, face still sloped in one of deep thought before she eventually hands Bunny back to him, eyes inquisitive all of the sudden as they peer up. "Do you have a mom?"

His gut hardens instantly, eyes scattered around somewhere upon the floor as he tries not to let any memories stir. "Yeah..."

"What's she like?" Jia asks, voice low and genuine as if speaking of something almost forbidden, a craving curiosity glistening within her. Hyunjin's heart cracks, already knowing his answer will disappoint her.

"Not very nice." And yet he can't find it in himself to lie, the truth bleeding forth in quiet, nauseating remnants as he tries not attach himself to the things he speaks. "I don't talk to her anymore."

Jia frowns at that, face scrunched up in an almost saddened sense of confusion, eyes still big and wide as they glance into him. "Why not?"

Hyunjin scrapes absentmindedly upon the fabric of his pants as he tries solely to concentrate upon the summery curves of Jia's face. "She was...mean to me."

"Why?" Jia's forehead creases, her body inching closer to him as if desperate for some sort of answer, her pure, snowy vision like a sharp punch to his own, eyes muddied and seeped with a thick, stifling tar. "I thought moms were nice."

"Some are," he says, voice quiet as he thinks, his own ignorance snaking its way through his mind as he tries to consider her question. "Most probably are." Knee-tucked and envious, he would sit with his back bared against the ridges of his school wall, staring, staring, staring as the mothers of his classmates would wrap their arms around their children, faces streaked with adoration. With care.

"I don't know." He'd look away then, stomach burning with something that hurt. "Mine wasn't." He always looked away, in the end. "I'm sure yours would've been."

Hyunjin quenches the memory to tiny speckles of dust as he forces his attention back to Jia, her face like a soothing, balmy beacon to bring him back to the present, to something gentle, something not yet ruined by the inevitably of growing up.

"What about your dad?" She whispers then, mouth still slipping into that captivated pout. The question passes through him as if merely something of the wind, his mind refusing to reach out even the slightest in case of accidentally latching onto that which always remains better left abandoned.

"I don't have a dad," he explains simply, drawing his knees up to his chest as he envelops his arms around them. "I had a stepdad."

"Was he nice?" Jia peers into him as if almost hopeful, sympathetic and kind - wishing upon him through that childlike goodness the undemanding gift of someone nice. His stomach clenches then, fingers reaching the faintest gust of a tremble as he squeezes her question into one simple, straightforward cluster of pulp.

"No," he whispers, the word like sandpaper on his tongue. Vaguely he recognizes the candor it carries. He can't lie, he supposes. Not to Jia. "He wasn't."

Confusion strikes her once more as if struggling to grasp onto how such a thing could be true. For a moment he envies her lilied unawareness, grateful at the same time that it exists, her eyes pooling with sadness as she stretches her own small hand forward and strokes the top of his own in comfort. "It's okay."

Hyunjin gives her a weak, slightly watery smile as fondness surges through his heart, Jia continuing to caress his hand as he tries his hardest not to look sad. He forces his own self-pity away, slightly ashamed that he needs to be consoled by a child who really should know nothing of his own decaying mind. "Your dad is very nice though."

"Yeah." Jia grins then, hand stilling on top of his hand as she lets it rest there. "He's the best."

"He is." Hyunjin smiles, chest settling with ease as he realizes he doesn't even once need to question the sincerity of Jia's statement.

Jia ponders something in silence for a while then, face contorting into one of melancholy and a steady determination as she peers into him. "My grandma said that people who aren't nice don't love themselves. And that's why they're so mean." She pauses, eyebrows furrowing in slight frustration, wheels spinning in an effort to properly explain herself. "So...maybe your mommy and step daddy just didn't love themselves?"

Hyunjin smiles, emotions surging through him in tenfold as he looks down at her, heart thickening contentedly around the edges. "You're probably right," he whispers. "I don't think they did."

"So..." Her face twists again, thinking deeply before patting him gently on the arm, eyes bleeding with a comforting insistence. "It's not your fault."

"Thank you." Affection wraps itself around him as he clutches onto it tightly, Jia's innocent, caring expression like a soft rupture to everything inside of him. A strange sense of gratitude slithers its way through his lungs, breathing a little easier, a little lighter. "You're very wise you know."

Her head tilts to the side, eyes wide and blinking. "What's that?"

Hyunjin laughs softly, mouth etching into a grin at her wonder. "It means smart. You're very smart."

"Oh." She beams proudly then, straightening herself up as her gaze glimmers, pleased and gratified. "Yeah I know."

Hyunjin smiles, the disarray of the night before suddenly seeming as if tethered to years and years of a secluded, uncatchable distance. The quiet, yet luminous sparkle in Jia's eyes burrow their way straight into the chambers of his heart, the soft arch of her nose and curve of her jaw imprinted with the echoes of her father.

For too long he thinks of their resemblance, of their slow, feather-like carving of themselves into the brittle tissues of his mind. Sora's words puncture him from the inside and he twists them to rusty cinders, begging, pleading for them not to catch fire once more. He can't fuck this up. He won't.

 

-

 

That night, sleep befalls him rather easily, limbs relaxing as if simply succumbing to their nature in the gentle repose of Changbin's arms wrapped around him.

Through the darkness of his eyelids do steady colors begin to shift, warm, sandstone hues that glimmer through the shadows as if pulsating with tiny embers of something that glows, their presence comforting, resolute as they rock quietly back and forth throughout the unwinding hours of the moon.

The softness of the bed soaks deeply into his bones, small exhales protruding through his lips as the colors gradually begin to change, the sunbaked grains that press themselves into his vision turning colder, a rigid, dusk-like blue threading its way uncomfortably into his dreamlessness.

His limbs tense up just slightly then, awoken he thinks, by that lifeless changing of his sight and yet his eyes remain blissfully closed still. Faraway, distant - someplace where thinking has no place at all.

Something shifts erratically somewhere close behind him, his body turning slowly as restlessness seeps its way into him, a muffled, frightened sounding noise filtering in and out of his head like echoes of a deep, thick-vined forest.

Hyunjin stills completely for a second then, consciousness unlodging itself back to life as his eyes blink open with great difficulty, his sluggishness evaporating as soon as they strain into the dark, panic unraveling within him.

"Hey, hey, what's happening?" Hyunjin bolts up right immediately, throat caught in an unfamiliar wave of fear as Changbin heaves rapidly up and down right next to him, chest falling in ragged, jittery waves. With alarm coursing through him, Hyunjin grabs hold of Changbin quickly, discerning his terror-woven face with a sharp puncture through the dark. "What's wrong?"

Changbin only stares at him wide, scattered eyes as he continues futilely to steady his breath, Hyunjin's hands coming up to hold his face gently as some strange, newfound instinct in his heart kicks in. His eyes pool with worry, fingers desperate to console him as they softly stroke his face.

"Changbin, breathe," he whispers, Changbin stilling slightly at the mention of his name, chest falling back to shaky, yet stable rhythms as he exhales deeply. Slowly Hyunjin drags one of his hands down to rest it soothingly upon his chest, distress still straining him from the inside. "Are you okay?"

Changbin swallows harshly, leaning into his touch as if desperate to cling onto it. "Yeah...I'm fine."

Through all the wealth of receiving nothing but Changbin's sincerity, Hyunjin recognizes it instantly as soon as it disappears. It's clear he tries to push down its severity, masking it with a selfless indifference. Hyunjin's insides splinter into tiny, scattered pieces. "Bad dream?"

"Just a nightmare," Changbin breathes out, expression painted by a sudden streak of guilt through the dim, shadowy light. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't apologize." Changbin had done nothing but comfort him night after night through his endless falls to destruction and yet Hyunjin had never once thought he might need the same, had grown too accustomed to Changbin's steady, unwavering presence to consider the mortality of such endurance.

"What happened? You can tell me." Changbin says nothing for a while, face morphing into one of a tightly-woven grimness as Hyunjin's hand continues to stroke his chest, worry and insistence threading within. "You can tell me anything."

Changbin looks at him briefly then, eyes brimming with hesitancy, a quiet, strangled desire to hold things back. An overwhelming yearning for Changbin to trust him builds itself slowly from Jia's words as they ring throughout his head. Hyunjin can but stare at him with all the promise of assurance he musters, his eyes wide and shiny through the pearls of a dark enshrouded whiteness.

"It was...it was about you," Changbin says, voice shaky and hushed as Hyunjin's heart freezes. "You were dead."

Something strange and biting runs its way down his spine as he tries not to shiver, the words hollow and yet streaked with seeds of terror as they echo vulnerably between them. Hyunjin's eyes glisten within the dim-lit unraveling of the bedroom, Changbin's breath picking up again as if reliving the pictures through his mind. "You...you overdosed and...I had to identify you in the morgue."

"Hey, it's okay," Hyunjin soothes, not entirely sure he's fully able to grasp onto what Changbin is saying, body thrumming instead with a desperate, aching need to comfort him. "It's okay. I'm not dead, I'm right here."

Changbin only blinks rapidly, gaze fixated upon nothing as he stares at the wall, Hyunjin's hand coming over to slowly caress the side of his face. "That sounds scary."

As if reminded of his closeness from his mere touch, Changbin cranes his neck back to look at him, eyes glassy and unraveling reluctantly with the grains of fear he tries so desperately hide. "It was."

Hyunjin nods assuredly, fingers brushing their way across the soft curve of his cheek, streaking back to touch the slope of his ear, the skew of his jaw. He thinks he can taste the fresh promise of silent tears before he feels them. "I don't-I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Hyunjin whispers, heart swelling as the words carve their way out of his chest before he has a chance to stop them. "I promise." He doesn't want to, he thinks, determined, invigorated for once to do something right.

"How can you promise that?" Hyunjin can feel Changbin's body tremble slightly from beneath his touch, voice scattered with flourishing panic. "You never know with drugs if it's your last time- especially if you-if you take them from strangers, there could be a-anything in there and you could–you could die Hyunjin-"

"Changbin, calm down, okay?" Hyunjin eases, hand rubbing his chest in an attempt to steady it once more. "I'm not gonna die, I'm not."

It doesn't seem to work, his breath picking up erratically as his limbs begin to quiver. "You s-say that but you don't know and I can't-I can't lose you, I can't, I can't-"

"You won't-"

"Your eyes were all s-sunken and you had sores all-all over your face and you were so pale, you looked like a ghost, a ghost-"

"Come here." Hyunjin wraps his arms around his shoulders then, coaxing him gently toward his own chest as sobs wrack through his body. "It's okay. It's okay," he whispers soothingly, fingers running through Changbin's hair from where his face lies buried right upon his heart, his insides shattering as the sound of cries pulsate throughout the room. "It was just a dream, I'm right here."

Changbin's sobs manage to diminish slightly after a while, shaking body stilling within his grip as if going limp, Hyunjin squeezing around him protectively. "Last night really scared you. I'm sorry." He blinks away a few of his own tears, guilt jabbing viciously at his gut. "It won't happen again."

"How do you know that?" Changbin sniffles, the sound muffled from where he's pressed against the fabric of his shirt. "Y-you can't control the drugs, they control you."

His stomach wrings itself uncomfortably, the small tremors beginning to course through Changbin's body in the throe of his silence like hot, coiling snares to blister him with. He just wants the pain to stop, Changbin's hurt spilling over in waves that overflow their way straight into him. "Then I won't...I won't do them anymore." Wait, what?

Changbin freezes at that, lifting his torso up from his chest to hover over him, glassy eyes swimming with disbelief. "What?"

"I'll stop," he assures, the words tumbling out of him before he can rope them back in, mind screaming at him to shut up, shut up, shut up-

Changbin's eyebrows furrow as if seeing right through him, a small glimmer of hope filtering its way across his gaze nonetheless. "You can't just say that if you don't mean it-"

"I mean it." Desperate to latch onto it, Hyunjin wants to curse himself as he speaks, heart pounding wildly against his ribcage. "I'll quit."

Changbin only continues to stare at him with downturned eyes, face marred in the fear of succumbing to something he shouldn't believe in and it's all Hyunjin can think about, all he can see, feel, taste, body overcome with the need to feed into it, to be for once the jewel carved not out of grit, but of faith. "I'll...I'll go to those NA meetings." Shiny and hard, glistening beneath the rays of the moon, in the dread of the sun. "I'll try...I'll try to get sober."

Changbin stills, disbelief swirling around the air as he whispers quietly through the night. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." What is he saying, what is he saying, what the fuck is he saying- "I'll try." No, no, no, no- Changbin's face lights up within the darkness, the warmth seeping into Hyunjin as he smiles. "For you."

Changbin frowns then, eyes still red and wet from the fresh imprints of tears. "You can't do it for me. You have to do it for yourself."

Hyunjin's heart pounds so loudly he thinks the sound might come reverberating off the walls any second, body on fire with the itch to engrave himself into Changbin's mind the way Changbin had settled his way into his. Steady, comforting. Someone to rely on. He swallows, nausea and determination striking him repeatedly. "Okay...then, for us."

He can't tell if the sudden way his stomach clenches comes from regret or a daunting excitement, his inhibitions withering away to dust as soon as the glimmering, longing look in Changbin's eyes reaches the wide-scattered exhales of his own. "Really?"

Hyunjin smiles, the curves of his mouth delicate, weak - as flimsy and breakable as finely-threaded chiffon and yet he hopes its softness will be enough to smoothen the brittle edges of Changbin's heart.

Maybe they will pacify his own, he thinks, as its tenderness reflects itself entrancingly upon the face staring down at him. "I promise."

 

-

 

Going to NA meetings, as it turns out, probably should have required a longer stage of thinking and preparation before he'd impulsively decided to embark upon them.

Changbin had been ecstatic the following day, trying his hardest to comfort him and assure him of how it would work, squeezing his hand protectively throughout the morning, telling him how proud he was and that he shouldn't put too much pressure on himself - baby steps are better than no steps at all.

Hyunjin had simply nodded along and smiled as convincingly as he could, stomach brimming with tight coils of anxiety the longer he let the thought linger in his mind.

Somewhere in the back of his head Hyunjin could admit that sure, perhaps his usage of cocaine and alcohol was unorthodox, excessive at times and yes of course he used them as a way to make breathing just a little easier but who didn't? Maybe he had problems, but an addict?

The word sears itself uncomfortably into his brain as he tries not to think of it, leg bouncing restlessly up and down as he almost smokes an entire pack in the withering patience thrust upon him from where he counts shakily down with the clock.

Tick tock, tick tock- Hyunjin walks back and forth in front of the building with jittery, clenching hands as he waits for Felix to arrive. Changbin had followed him all the way to the red-bricked establishment Felix had told him to meet him by, some sort of social services structure with vacant rooms for all sorts of support groups throughout the week.

Hyunjin had only given it a weak glare the moment it had come into view, chest tight and panicked as Changbin had tried his best to assure him once more, kissing him countless of times on the mouth, the cheek, the forehead even as Hyunjin could but briefly let go of the brewing storm in side of him.

Almost as if disappointed with himself, Changbin had reluctantly told him that he'd stopped going to NA meetings two years ago, now four years entirely sober and somewhat afraid that stepping into one would only occupy his mind once again with thoughts that he'd worked so hard to get rid of.

Hyunjin understands, of course he does and besides, he'll have Felix there to accompany him anyway. Hyunjin had bid him a slow, far too clingy goodbye than he'd have liked to admit before Changbin had to make his way back to the studio, his client probably already waiting for him by now.

Hyunjin sighs agitatedly as he leans his back against the wall, scrubbing his hands with hand sanitizer every few minutes because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to do before the bright, exuberant smile of a buzzing Felix comes trudging up the parking lot.

"Hi!" Felix chirps, carrying within his arms yet another wicker basket similar to the one he'd brought over with cookies before, the basket smaller and adorned with a baby blue ribbon around the handle. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?"

Hyunjin awkwardly accepts the hug Felix gives him as he makes his way over, eyes glimmering excitedly as Hyunjin gives him a tight smile in return. "This is so great, I'm really proud you're trying to take this step."

"Right." He laughs somewhat weakly, eyes buzzing around the parking lot as more and more people steadily filter their way into the building before landing quizzically upon the basket in Felix's hold. "Did you...bake?"

"Oh yeah." Felix grins, seemingly not thinking it strange at all. "I made pistachio madeleines! I think if I keep this up, I'll be able to bring macarons soon. Everyone's been requesting me to make them but I can't just jump into the splits without stretching first, you know? I gotta warm up."

Not understanding a single word just uttered his way, Hyunjin only nods in acceptance, stomach clenching anxiously as he tries desperately to delay walking inside the building. "So...you just casually own wicker baskets?"

Felix nods vigorously, eyes scrunching up sweetly. It's slightly nauseating to look at, he thinks. "Yeah, I found this amazing little boutique that sells all sorts of really cute home decor stuff. I even found bamboo napkin rings, can you believe it?"

Hyunjin has no idea what a fucking bamboo napkin ring is, shaking his head in feigned amazement as a disturbing thought starts seeping its way into him. Is this who he'll become if he attends these meetings - someone who starts buying wicker baskets?

Hyunjin frowns, pinching his forearm discreetly as Felix starts explaining how everything will work, going through a brief introduction of the different types of meetings as Hyunjin tries desperately to pay attention, somewhat relieved as Felix tells him that he doesn't have to say anything since he's new but that it's highly encouraged.

"No one will judge you for what you say," Felix assures him, taking determined steps toward the entrance of the building as Hyunjin follows in tow with a painful clutch to his stomach. "It's a safe space. I've been to lots of different meetings and this one is by far my favorite. Everyone is so open and accepting and they really want you to succeed."

Hyunjin nods, the thought of a bunch of random strangers cheering him on for something he doesn't even think is that big of a deal to begin with sounding absolutely horrifying.

Blissfully unaware of his unraveling distress, Felix continues to go into detail as they walk inside the stuffy walls of the yellow-hued corridor. "The focus isn't on what kind of drugs you're addicted to, it's just the addiction part that's important so we generally try to avoid talking too much about, you know, specifics. And this is a closed meeting, so everyone there is in the same boat and really, don't be afraid to share because no one will judge you and oh-" Felix halts suddenly, Hyunjin nearly crashing into him from the abruptness. "We're here."

Fuck. Felix gives him an encouraging smile as he steps into the room they'd arrived at, the door already open as a slightly older looking woman with mousy hair greets him by the threshold.

Felix chirps happily as she gives him a hug, Hyunjin's eyes widening immediately once he realizes that she's going to hug him too, his body freezing as soon as she wraps her arms around him and gives him a warm smile. "Welcome."

Blinking rapidly, Hyunjin only walks as quickly as he can away from the door and into the room, sending her an incredulous look as she continues to hug each person that walks inside. What the fuck?!

Convinced immediately that this was a horrible, horrible mistake Felix guides him over to a large table in the corner with stacks of paper cups and a coffee machine that do nothing to enliven the already bleak atmosphere that slithers its way all around him, face grimacing with each flicker of his eye.

Felix sets down his wicker basket of madeleines on the table as Hyunjin nervously looks up at the poster-littered wall behind it, fliers of all sorts of support groups screaming obnoxiously right into him as he tries desperately to look away.

He can't, he thinks, the words like a beacon of something entirely out of place as anxiety seizes him - Alcoholics Anonymous, Debtors Anonymous, Clutters Anonymous, Gamblers, Overeaters, Sex Addicts, on and on and on, every single poster becoming more and more fucked up as he continues to read them and- His stomach clenches, panic thrumming through as his gaze settles on a gray, far too ominous looking flier.

He barely manages to skim the words Survivors of Incest Anonymous before he rips his eyes away, barreling his way toward the center of the room where people are slowly starting to gather in a circle of chairs. He needs to get this shit over with so he can run the fuck out of there.

He swallows shakily as he sits down, wishing with a childish desire that he could feel the comforting hold of Bunny within his grip as Felix follows him, sending him a calming smile as people milling about eventually find their seats.

Hyunjin scans the cluster of faces around him with a reluctant curiosity, expressions unreadable as they bore into the empty space. Felix had told him that this particular meeting was rather small, only about ten or so other people that regularly attend, their presence like a large, overcast hoard of something to throttle him with.

Desperate not to let his eyes linger, they land instead upon an older looking man right at the top of the circle, small glasses framing the lines of his face as he brushes off a few scattered crumbs from his sweater vest. Oh God, Hyunjin thinks.

He looks like some mellow, spineless preacher and it becomes perfectly clear that he's the leader or speaker or whatever the hell they call it from the way he clasps a book excitedly in his hands. He hardly looks like someone who used to be a drug addict, he thinks, but then again he would never have assumed Felix to be one either.

Mr. Preacher clears his throat soundly once silence settles around the room, the air stifling and muggy as Hyunjin tries not to start tearing at his skin. The man introduces himself cordially as Duncan, though this hardly seems like new information to most of the others who all smile kindly at his welcome.

Hyunjin tries to pay attention, he really does and yet each droning, slithery word that Duncan offers his way filters through his one ear and out the other, either more so when the entire group collectively goes into prayer, Duncan spewing some bullshit about accepting things that he cannot change and having the courage to change the things he can as Hyunjin resists the urge to bolt straight out of the room right there and then.

Once they've finished, Duncan asks if there are any newcomers, his gaze landing immediately upon Hyunjin as he assumes to be the only one, everyone else sitting with a rested air of familiarity.

Changbin had told him about this part, instructed him gently on what to say and so he raises his hand reluctantly, thankful that he'd spent the entire morning combing over his appearance and making sure to render himself radiant. On the outside, at least though for some reason he doesn't particularly think that any of the eyes trained intently upon him care.

"My name is Hyunjin," he echoes, the words like cotton as they stumble their way into the air. "I'm an addict." He wonders if Felix can hear the falseness in the way he speaks from right next to him. "Um, this is my first meeting."

Duncan welcomes him kindly then as everyone else gives him comforting smiles in approval, the lie thickening densely throughout his brain as he tries not to let it come spiraling down his spine. Hyunjin purses his lips, chest constricting every few seconds as he itches for the urge to smoke.

As if clinging onto some invisible mantra, Hyunjin thinks over and over again of both Changbin and Jia, their faces scintillating through him in small soothing waves as Duncan begins to read a passage from some book out loud. Hyunjin can't find it in himself to pay attention, counting instead repeatedly to the rhythm in which he taps against his thigh, onetwothree, onetwothree, onetwothree, each muscle and tremor hyperaware of the ticking clock upon the wall.

Duncan finishes after approximately fifteen minutes and eleven seconds, producing forth a small tin that had been beneath his seat the entire time and drawing a popsicle stick amongst the large amount of them clinking around.

"Chaos," he reads out loud, the topic for today's discussion as Hyunjin swallows a sudden large ripple of sickness that punches through him.

The room rotates around his head the same way it rotates from chair to chair - dizzyingly, nauseatingly. Hyunjin thinks he can taste the rising acid with each person that speaks, the questions imprinting themselves upon each and every tongue as if withdrawing from their tastebuds.

What is your response to chaos? Why, as addicts, do we create it? Something sour like pus explodes within his mouth, blistering the inside as his lips start to burn. He feels like he's in school again, brain splintering itself to pieces with each ridiculous puzzle he's forced to solve, his classmates dripping, dripping, dripping with thorns that puncture feebly in the air, desperate to tear something apart.

Number One, Mr. Lumberjack speaks in self-indulgent, high-pitched trails no one wants to tread upon. Hyunjin stares at him emptily, at his long auburn beard, pink skin, the horrid, clashing flannel of his shirt. He feels sick he thinks, eyes searing through the staggering patterns as his voice twists itself gratingly throughout the room.

Sometimes chaos is easier to accept than the clear, straightforward truth. We find comfort in being blind, that way we don't have to see our own shortcomings. Hyunjin's hand twitches, irritation seeping into his gut. God, he hates that fucking shirt. Yesterday my son turned eighteen. A year ago I wouldn't have been invited to his birthday party.

Two, a younger girl with poorly died blonde hair picks somewhat disinterestedly on her fingers, the nails chipped and bitten down as she sighs. We like the adrenaline of chaos, of being thrown into something we can't control. Her voice sounds raspy as she speaks. A smoker, no doubt.

It's enticing. All addicts are adrenaline junkies. Hyunjin wants to roll his eyes, her words withering within his mind. That isn't true at all, how can she even say that? He doesn't like the chaos, he likes the control.

Leather Jacket Girl cracks her neck, her eyeliner slightly smudged from beneath the dim, beige light. The problem is that we think we control the chaos, even though that sounds insane to say out loud. Hyunjin scratches the inside of his arm, up and down, up and down. One, two-

Three - a large, muscled man with a tank top so tight he thinks it might come bursting apart any second. What does chaos even mean? There's a tattoo on his neck, a gold chain dripping down his chest.

When you speak of chaos, I think a lot of us automatically think of partying, doing crazy shit, feeling like we're invincible because we indulge in things humans aren't supposed to. There's no way this man hasn't been to prison, he thinks. Of course we like it, who doesn't like having a good time?

Prison Dude's voice is oddly calm as he speaks, mellow and yet commanding all the same. But I think we need to redefine what chaos means to us. Chaos is just instability. It's the constant neglect of everything that's good and bad. Hyunjin's eye twitches, slow threads of anger unraveling through his veins. It makes us numb. But not in like the depression type of shit, it tells us it's okay to be irresponsible-

Why the fuck had agreed to this, why the fuck would Changbin or Felix or anyone for that matter think something like this would solve anything? Is this how they see him? Hyunjin's stomach hardens.

Number Four, a thin, dark haired woman with sunken eyes and grayish skin looks nervously around the room, her body buzzing with a sort of restlessness that definitely makes him think she isn't sober.<

Creating chaos is like creating a path for your own demise. We're addicted to our own destruction. She sniffles, nose runny as her leg starts to bounce. We like the pain because we think we deserve it. I still think I do. Corpse Lady shrugs, gaze still refusing to rest anywhere for more than two seconds.

Nobody's told me otherwise. And I know you're gonna say that I'm the one who needs to say it but how am I supposed to do that shit when the only time it feels real is when I'm high? She sighs then, her strange, whirring indifference a little frightening for some reason he can't understand. That's why I relapsed yesterday, you guys know how it is. Whatever, at least I showed up today.

Five - Felix wrings his hands nervously, voice confident still despite the subtle discomfort of his body language. Growing up, I used to fear anything chaotic. Hyunjin thinks reluctantly to the ink-swirled hummingbird stained upon his skin. My parents were strict, I was raised to obey orders, to be quiet, to never question the way things were. His mother's favorite creature, he remembers.

When...when I was first introduced to drugs, it felt like...well, it felt like for the first time something fascinating happened to my life. Why on earth had he remembered that? I craved the chaos that came with it, the constant instability. To me it represented freeing myself from all the repressive rules I always had to heed to.

Felix fidgets a little then, golden hair turning dull beneath the dust-coated lightbulb. Someone told me once it was the only thing that made me interesting. That without it, I was boring and...and that no one would want me around.

Felix's eyes flicker briefly to the floorboards, Hyunjin watching him with a sticky, mud-like rapture. In a way I started clinging onto my addiction believing it turned me into someone special. Someone that can embrace the madness. His stomach feels strange, soaked in molasses, slow, withering - a trap he can't get out of.

When I first became sober it was hard trying to shape my identity away from drugs. Kind of like...like I had to reinvent myself but I'm slowly learning to accept that I can have value and excitement just being myself. Felix smiles then, its curve soft and vivid as it glows through the room. It's gratifying in a way and well...a lot less expensive.

The others laugh quietly in response, Felix settling back in his seat with an almost relieved sounding sigh as everyone's attention slowly fixates itself upon the next person, number Six, Hyunjin realizes and fuck- his heart freezes. That's him. For a while he says nothing, chest squeezing at the amount of eyes all trained upon him, mouth opening and closing as he tries desperately to think of something to say.

Seemingly noticing his distress, Duncan gives him an appeasing smile as Hyunjin's heart hammers loudly. "Since it's your first time perhaps you want to share with us why you decided to come here today?"

"Um." Hyunjin straightens his back immediately, tucking a small strand of hair behind his ear as he tries not to let his voice falter. "My, uh my boyfriend, he's worried about me. I take drugs at work and he...well, he doesn't like it."

He pauses then, confused for a second at the bewildered look on some people's faces, hastily rushing to explain himself. "I work at a club, not like an office or anything...and I don't want him to worry so...so I decided to come here." He gives a tight, far too strained smile as he sinks back into his seat.

"Alright," Duncan says once he understands he isn't about to say anything else, "well thank you for sharing Hyunjin." He smiles back gently before gesturing over to the person next to him to start speaking as Hyunjin wrings his hands uncomfortably.

Number Seven - the mousy haired woman who'd hugged him in the doorway. She gives him a comforting look before she speaks, voice mellow and sickly sweet as it prickles against his skin. I think a lot of us know what you're going through. Hyunjin's insides squeeze, Miss Hugger gazing directly at him. What the fuck is she talking about?

A lot of our desire to get better comes through other people. It's easy to recognize how we hurt others, but it takes a while before we realize how we're hurting ourselves. Hyunjin's leg bounces, talons clawing their way through his insides. You're very lucky to have people around you that care. I think we all know how important it is to surround ourselves with the ones we love.

Her words stream through his head as if submerged underwater, heart scratching and tearing itself agonizingly as if trying desperately to get used to the ache it knows will come.

He doesn't pay much attention to anything after that, his mind focused solely on the clock as it ticks, ticks, ticks its way closer to the end, his body whirring, clenching, squeezing itself continuously as he can but wait, wait, wait. Hyunjin is good at waiting, had spent his entire childhood wide-eyed up at the ceiling as his limbs glued their way stickily into his sheets.

Waiting. Waiting. What time was it? 3AM? No, not yet. He'd need to wait, wait, wait. Just a little more. Just a little longer. One, two, three. Still not time. One, two, three. Count again. And again. And one more time, just one more, onetwothree, onetwothree, onetwo-

Hyunjin practically bolts out of his chair as soon as Duncan announces the cessation of the meeting, Felix abruptly stopping him from leaving as he explains that he has to get his first timer chip.

Hyunjin hates that he even knows what that means - already used to the concept through his rather nefarious infiltration to Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings - as he begrudgingly accepts the little chip and pockets it quickly.

Apparently most of the attendees usually stick around for a while after the official meeting ends, gathering in groups around the coffee table as they start to chat with one another. Hyunjin doesn't know what to do, Felix dragging him along with him as people come up to them eager to try Felix's famous baking - madeleines this time, to which Prison Dude gives Felix an enthusiastic high five.

Hyunjin only stares in bewilderment as Felix chirps happily with multiple people, his insides swelling uncomfortably as both Prison Dude and Miss Hugger come up to properly introduce themselves.

"So, what's your DOC?" Prison Dude asks, munching happily on a madeleine as Miss Hugger, or Janey, gives him a stern look. Hyunjin only blinks, his body suffocating beneath their gaze. "Um, what?"

"Drug of choice," he explains, the way he towers over him oddly nerve-wracking as Hyunjin scrambles for an answer. There's a Jesus tattoo on his bicep. Hyunjin has no idea where the fuck he is.

"Oh um." The two of them stare at him unwaveringly, his arms crossing against his chest as if to shrink himself away. He doesn't understand why they're talking to him at all, is he supposed to make friends with these people? "Cocaine, mostly."

"The Big C." Prison Dude grins, Janey the Hugger only giving him an exasperated look although it seems almost too motherly to be serious. Hyunjin grimaces. Why was everyone so goddamn up in each other's business? "You like parties?"

"We don't need to talk about that Brad," she says, gaze diverting itself back to Hyunjin as she gives him a compassionate smile. "The most important thing is the road to recovery, not what came before. We're all glad you decided to come here today. It's a big step."

Hyunjin smiles back as kindly as he can although he's sure it comes out far too strained and rigid from the overwhelming surge of restlessness that strikes him.

No idea why anyone would care that much, Hyunjin mumbles a half-hearted excuse about needing to go before signaling a quick goodbye to Felix who, although seemingly eager to join him and undoubtedly talk for hours on end, gets roped into another discussion about when he'll be bringing profiteroles to their meetings.

Not wanting to know what the fuck a profiterole is, Hyunjin slithers his way outside briskly, lungs expanding in relief as soon as the warmth of the sun spills itself soothingly down his neck. It feels easier to breathe then, he thinks, the city air far less stifling as he leans tiredly against the wall.

Hyunjin promptly continues to spill hand sanitizer all over his fingers, rubbing it harshly into his skin as if wanting to erase the contaminated swirl of dust from the enclosing room he'd just been in. Changbin had promised to meet him after the meeting had finished, Hyunjin waiting in a buzzing anticipation as he tries to avoid any kind of eye contact with the other people that eventually start filtering their way outside.

Relief floods him the second he spots Changbin's face glimmering beneath that tangerine sun, Jia's small, skipping body right next to him as lighthearted smiles unravel across the two of them. Hyunjin beams, walking over to them instantly as a sense of comfort expands within him.

"Hey," Changbin grins, eyes swathed in a swell of both affection and gratitude as he wraps an arm around his waist. "How did it go? You okay?"

Hyunjin bites his lip, gaze diverting back and forth between Changbin and Jia, her hair still somehow kept neatly in the braid he'd made the day before and her arms hiding something behind her back.

She looks up at him expectantly, a tiny smile upon her face that seems a little too playful to be entirely innocent. Hyunjin narrows his eyes teasingly in suspicion, turning back to Changbin as he tries desperately to think of what to say.

"It was...weird." He grimaces slightly, Changbin nodding in understanding as Hyunjin waves his hand dismissively. He just wants to leave. "But I'm fine."

Changbin smiles, hand squeezing protectively around his waist as he gazes down to Jia with an expectant glimmer in his eyes. "Well, I told Jia you were going to a meeting that was a little scary, so she has a surprise for you."

Hyunjin's eyes widen playfully, shooting her an inquisitive, slightly fearful look. "It's not another frog right?"

Jia laughs at that, apparently still finding that whole situation very amusing before she shyly shakes her head. Hyunjin looks at her in eager anticipation, her blinking eyes flashing bashfully as she looks to the side.

Changbin gives her an incredulous smile, crouching down next to her as he says in a low, hushed voice. "You don't need to be shy."

Jia nods slowly as if deciding that she agrees, her gaze flickering back up to Hyunjin as she suddenly shoves her hands forward and produces a small, neatly arranged cluster of flowers. "Ta da!"

Hyunjin's heart bursts, her grin infectious and proud as he accepts them gratefully, something painful lodged in the back of his throat. The bouquet is tiny and yet charming all the same, colors of violet, white and orange sprouting upward in a scintillating harmony.

"She picked them on the way here." Changbin smiles, giving her a fond look as Hyunjin crouches down to be on her level.

"Thank you so much." He gives her a tight hug then, eyes blinking rapidly away a fresh onslaught of tears that threaten to spill. Jia wraps her small arms around him eagerly, happy it seems, that he'd enjoyed her little present. "They're beautiful."

"I couldn't find the tiger lily," Jia pouts, pointing firmly to the clutch of flowers as if anxious to explain. "I think because there are no tigers here."

Hyunjin laughs in adoration, nodding gratefully as his chest inflates. "I think you're right. But that's okay, I still love it."

"You can put one in your hair, look." Jia leans forward to carefully inspect the bouquet before picking out a vibrant, orange flower with bulbous petals, attentive and concentrated as she gently nestles it right above his ear. Hyunjin grins, thanking her happily before an idea pops into his head, asking her to turn around with a secretive, eager smile on his mouth.

Jia does as told, her dark black hair turning into streaks of umber beneath the sun as her thick, pleated braid runs gracefully down her spine. Hyunjin picks out a handful of the flowers then, snapping off the dirtied ends of the stems as he nimbly weaves them into her hair in a scattered, yet prettily banded array of colors down her braid.

As soon as he's finished, he stands back up again, Changbin looking at him in amazement as Jia complains about not being able to see what he'd done.

Hyunjin laughs at the endearing pout on her face as Changbin takes out his phone to snap photos, Hyunjin reaching automatically for his hand sanitizer as he thoroughly scrubs it over his hands before picking the remainder of the bouquet back up again.

Jia gasps as soon as she looks at the picture, a wide, radiant beam unraveling across her face as she glances up at him excitedly. "Thank you!" Gently she reaches backward to skim her fingers across her braid, eyes lighting up each time she feels the soft confirmation of a flower perched gracefully within. "So pretty. Like Rapunzel!"

Hyunjin grins, not really sure who Rapunzel is but knowing he will already be getting a thorough explanation when he decides to ask, Jia's joyful face radiant as the sunbeams cascade in halos down her head. A sharp, almost nauseating wave of guilt floods through him then, his stomach shameful he thinks, of how insignificantly he'd treated the meeting he'd just went to.

Serious enough to be in an adult relationship? His gut clenches painfully, his fingers nimble as they gently touch the petals of the marmalade flower tucked behind his ear. Serious enough to take care of a child? Soft, breakable, Hyunjin cradles it with a mindful, sensitive care. Do you have any idea at all the responsibilities that come with that? Changbin smiles brightly as he tells him how beautiful it looks. How beautiful he looks.

Hyunjin bites his lip in response, timid he thinks. Timid and grateful beneath the affectionate gaze of someone else.

"Ready to go home?" Changbin asks, mouth arching into a grin as Hyunjin soaks every little detail and billow of muscle within him. You're very lucky to have people around you that care.

"Yeah," Hyunjin smiles, a strange, almost burning need to prove himself overwhelming the wakefulness of his bones. I think we all know how important it is to surround ourselves with the ones we love. Something ruptures inside of him then. He has to, no, wants to be someone worthy of that trust. "I am."

Notes:

omg this chapter is soo long aahh, but so many changes are finally happening 🥺😫 hyunjin taking the first step to be a real part of their family, even though it’s difficult

thank you so much for reading 💕 see you on thursday

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 16: All the Curves of a Waterlily

Notes:

this chapter is long as fuuuck omg, i apologize in advance

A deep, rippling blue arches its way above him, body submerged under tunnels of water as he remains dry-boned and standing, jaw fluttered open in amazement as his neck cranes its way around the flickering, cavernous illusions of an ocean.

His heart narrows in on itself as if bursting with awe, eyes shimmering with reflections of each coral-hued wrinkle that dances before him, the yellow-tailed flare of an angelfish, hardened armors of the sea turtle, the jellyfish's glass-like bell that propels itself in and out, in and out; steady exhales needed to glide.

A large, white-bellied shark swims right above him, its eyes blank and body steady. Hyunjin's eyes bulge in fascination, his head falling into a permanent tilt as he can but stare up, up, up. Jia points excitedly as the creature slithers way, bouncing eagerly on the balls of her feet as a school of bright, blue fish swim peacefully across the curving passageway.

"Look Daddy, look!" Jia stresses, dark hair swept up into two tiny buns with seashell pendants nestled around the hair band. Fitting for the occasion really, as she'd rather intimidatingly compelled Changbin to decorate it in order for them to go at all. "It's Dory! From Nemo!"

"Do you think she remembers where she is?" Changbin asks, glancing down at her as Jia looks up at him expectantly, her eyes crinkling into half-moons as she resolutely shakes her head.

"No," she giggles, the thought silly to even consider. "For sure not."

Hyunjin doesn't particularly understand the joke, but he laughs all the same, Jia's beam pleasant and endearing as it bounces across all the water-rifted walls between them. It feels a little strange, he thinks, and almost unbelievable now that he's plunged deep within hoards of colorful, scintillating sea animals, that he'd never once in the three years of living in the city, decided to so much as contemplate visiting the aquarium.

Well, he supposes it wasn't that odd when he really thought about it - the places he ventured himself into usually contained some form of flashing lights or at the height of his refinement, a glass of champagne.

To Jia, however, the knowledge that he had never even once visited the aquarium in his entire life seemed more than preposterous - sad even, she'd said as her eyes turned wide and sympathetic with pity. Naturally, they had to go.

Hyunjin hadn't complained except for Changbin once again insisting on paying, his stubbornness dead set and garnering a repeated string of eye rolls his way.

Still, eagerness had swallowed him whole as soon as they stepped into the city-famous shark-reef, his gaze splattering itself with vivid fragments of all sorts of animals he'd only before curiously traced with the outline of his finger in children's books.

Apparently the aquarium was on Jia's list of best places in the whole world, number two only after her own room, though they seemed to reserve going mostly for special occasions - birthdays, holidays, long-discussed playdates.

Hyunjin never having been was definitely special, Jia had said, pleading with her big, droopy eyes for them to please, please, please go. It hadn't taken long for Changbin to agree, deciding rather immediately that yes, it certainly was a special occasion.

Going on a Monday so as not to have to worry about work, Hyunjin had happily joined Changbin in picking up an extremely excited Jia early who'd done so many cartwheels on the way back home Hyunjin was starting to wonder how strong her tolerance for dizziness was.

The change in pace had been nice since his impulsive and very flimsily-held together promise of sobriety decided to take its place, his brain constantly teetering on a jittery, nervous edge as he tried anything he could to take his mind off of the glowing beacon of something that would finally scratch that incessant itch.

It had been a little over a week since his first NA meeting, his limbs restless and uneasy as his cigarette-pack expenses increased significantly throughout the days. His mind had fallen gradually into a longer, deeper sleep, dreams vivid and excruciating as they slipped away from his grasp right before he was able to catch onto them.

Perhaps he had been a little more accustomed to cocaine than he'd previously imagined, his appetite suddenly far greater than he could remember it being, stomach gnawing in a constant, endless hunger until he at last managed to exhale the pacifying smoke of his cigarettes desperately into his lungs.

Overall, he supposed it could be worse than a few irritating jabs to his body, which, as he'd found out as soon as he'd gone to work, it would be.

Despite the strange hardening of his stomach at Jinyoung's very bewildered expression in regards to the news of him going sober - something he still thinks sounds ridiculous whenever he says it out loud - he'd been confident in his decision, determined, steady, a deep pull tugging at his gut to anchor him with.

He'd felt for the first time in years eager, impassioned to not only become someone else, but to put in the work to do it. The loss of something as petty and hollow as alcohol or cocaine was nothing compared to everything he was desperate to gain - that shiny, radiant jewel of trust as it flickered its way across Changbin and Jia's faces night after night.

Surely, he could do it, surely it would falter in its hardship when he could surround himself by an endless promise of joy instead.

What a fucking joke.

Jia turns to him suddenly then, deep blue waves shrouding themselves behind her as she decidedly clasps her hand into his, excited to tug him along and show him something. Hyunjin's eye twitches. No, no, no, no- His brain collapses in on itself, gaze burning from how hard it bores into their two hands clutched together. It's okay. It's okay. He has hand sanitizer, it's okay.

But it's not, it's not, not when he knows for a fact that Jia had eagerly pressed the flats of her palms into every single screen they'd passed by, skin infiltrated by hoards and hoards of unknown germs and God knows what else and now they're all seeping right into him and fuck, fuck, why had even agreed to come here at all when he very specifically needs to shower and scrub himself clean, clean, clean-

"Did you know that stingrays and sharks are cousins?"

Jia blinks at him expectantly, pointing to a large floating stingray surrounded by smaller fish as it glides gracefully in front of them. Hyunjin swallows, taken aback as his mind slows down to a sluggish, grateful halt. "Um, no. I didn't know that."

Jia nods satisfyingly, once again seemingly thrilled at the prospect of being able to teach him something. "But sharks are more scary because they can eat you! Everyone says you should be afraid of them but...I don't think a shark would eat me. I think if you're nice to it, it will be nice to you."

Hyunjin grins, his stomach unclenching just slightly. "How can you be nice to a shark if they can't understand you?"

"You just have to wave like this." Jia gives a happy, beaming wave of her hand to the scuttle of sea turtles swimming by. "Or you can do this." She looks at him mischievously then before blowing a playful kiss in the turtles' direction, face scrunching up in a stream of giggles as Hyunjin laughs.

Gently, Changbin comes up behind them and places a hand on his lower back, glancing down at Jia with affection fluttering through. "You're too cute to be eaten, that's for sure."

"I know," Jia singsongs, grinning as she lets go of his hand and starts peering into the glass, waving merrily with both of them to every animal that floats its way in front of her. Hyunjin smiles endearingly as she manages to capture the attention of a smaller baby shark staring back at her, scrambling still as discreetly as he can for his hand sanitizer to thoroughly cleanse his hands.

Only after repeating three sets of threes, does he manage to push away the unraveling of nerves inside his chest, Changbin shooting him a knowing, slightly concerned look. Hyunjin only pretends not to notice it, slipping on a face of a carefully carved easy-goingness, one he desperately yearns to lean into with everything he carries.

The florescence of his three-leafed clover had, ever since he'd abysmally decided to go sober, started overgrowing from its home in that muddied-down patch of soil, thin, green leaves stretching and stretching until they'd twisted and sprouted their way all across the earth, reaching, reaching, reaching to wrap themselves around his feet.

And though he'd lived his life always on the verge of running away, Hyunjin knows he remains firmly stuck within their greedy grasp. Solitude was no longer the only place in which it flourished, his mind withering to tiny cracks as it buzzed, buzzed, buzzed in a growing, steady panic ready to suffocate him with.

Perhaps it wasn't that bad, not really, sure he needed to spend the night in his own apartment whenever Changbin didn't have shifts at the club despite Changbin insisting that he didn't have to, and maybe he'd started rigorously extending his cleaning and shower routines, carrying with him wet wipes, luxury hand sanitizers and even plastic gloves whenever he had to go outside but overall he supposed it wasn't that different to how he'd gone about his days before.

At least with Changbin he could let himself relax a little, breathing a little easier, a little lighter, sleep able to befall him before 3AM as he'd clutch tightly onto Bunny through the reposeful hum of the night. The only place where it was becoming well, a problem, was beneath the fluttering of red, hazy lights and leering gazes.

Unbound by the assurance of slithering, neatly-lined nose candy, his metamorphosis was one of a shaky, sunken exhale to breathe itself forcefully into flickering shadows; entrancingly, bewitchingly. A curse, a spell to cast upon his own dreamy, tantalizing silhouette as it unraveled itself seductively upon the stage, becoming at last the silky lantern of something beautiful, something to shed tears over in the lack of watchful lights.

No, his transformation did not come quick, did not spill itself in strands of euphoria across his back as it possessed him hypnotizingly through the painting of low, whispering smoke, did not float and ripple its way up into his head until it turned light and far, far away.

Instead, Hyunjin cultivated the slow rearing head of the Swallowtail with one sharp jab against his own stomach, with vicious, scratching lashes of his own burning talons. With anger.

Anger at who, he isn't quite sure, at himself, at the world, at that wretched little counting clock ticking down inside his mind but he wouldn't let his spiral of clovers destroy the one thing he knew how to do, would not splinter the Tiger Lily for something as silly, something as harrowing as the succumbing to his own pulsating head.

In a way it was easy, he thinks, understanding at last that the Tiger Lily was someone else entirely, a flicker of desire, a fume of candlelight always out of reach, impossible to catch. Something not quite real, nor quite fake for him to breathe life into night after night.

Hyunjin knew he would crumble to dust upon the forgoing of his rules, would shake and tremble at the thought of laughing carelessly in the echo of private rooms, dancing, twisting, dragging his hands sensually all over himself to entrance his waiting watchers. The Tiger Lily would not.

The Tiger Lily burned with the dark, orange hue of its petals easily, seductively, tilting over everyone and everything with the mere touch of his finger. Yes, the Tiger Lily had no problems touching the sweat-stained steel of his pole, slithering the tie of a stranger in between his hands, soaking up attention as if nourished by nothing else.

The Tiger Lily contained all the radiance of the sun, all the mystery of the moon - every single shimmer and jewel of the constellations. Every metallic, addicting tongue-drenched drop of blood.

And so night after night, Hyunjin gutted himself eagerly, shedding off the tattered flesh of his own bones with all the pounding fury he could muster, slipping into the dark of someone else's body, someone else's skin and magnetism as he let himself drink hungrily from its cup.

In a way it was nice knowing that the existence of the Tiger Lily did not have to interfere with the existence of himself - two, separate entities never to once meet, never to once need to share the same tumbling pain of his withering mind.

The Tiger Lily was powerful, captivating, merciless in its grip as it crushed the three-leafed clover to shreds and expanded itself breathlessly into the hollows of his watchers, feeding off of their attention as if starved for years upon years.

In a way he supposed the metamorphosis of the Tiger Lily was almost vampiric - desperate, famined for the glittering taste of death and so he drank gladly from the sweet, obsessive blood of spirits eager to be drained, their desire and glory far softer upon his tongue than the jagged ridges of his own mind.

Deep down Hyunjin knew his letting go of such hollow pleasures as cocaine was worth it, replacing itself instead with the genuineness of something he'd never once felt before and yet still a large restlessness swirled its way inside of him - especially now, in the meagre skin of himself, Tiger Lily yet to be rebirthed as he stumbled throughout the day.

At least with the constant winding of Changbin and Jia to tug him along their mellow pathways, he could smile freely, easily even as they continued to weasel themselves further into his heart.

Hyunjin listens intently as Jia explains everything she knows about the different sea animals each time one swims by, her eyes lighting up passionately as Hyunjin can't help the beam that curves itself across his face.

Jia starts bursting out in laughter once a round pufferfish suddenly glides by, her hand waving at it eagerly as it continues to float away with wide, blank eyes. "It looks so funny. I wish I could take him home."

Changbin laughs at that, eyes crinkling as he stares down at her fondly. "And where would he stay, huh? In the sink?"

"In the bathtub!" Jia grins, her radiance dazzling. "And he could play with the duckies and we could be best friends."

"Or he could stay in the toilet," Hyunjin quips, Jia's eyes widening incredulously at his suggestion before she starts laughing hysterically once again.

"Ew." She shakes her head, smiling still as her nose scrunches up. "Then he would try to jump up your butt! And then he'd eat pee and poop-"

"Okay I regret saying anything," Hyunjin laughs, face twisting into a grimace as Jia continues nonstop to talk about feces as they make their way back to the entrance of the aquarium, Changbin shaking his head in disbelief each time Jia starts giggling at her own jokes.

"And he would think the poop was chocolate so he would try to it eat but it wouldn't be yummy at all, it would be yucky and then he would make a funny face like this-"

"You've created a monster." Changbin looks him painfully in the eyes as Hyunjin laughs, Jia breaking out in snickers as she now very determinately continues, finding an apparent glee in their own exasperation. It isn't until Changbin promptly crouches down and throws her playfully over his shoulder that she stops, shrieking humorously as he swings her back down again.

"Do it again," she pleads, eyes buzzing around energetically before she suddenly interrupts herself with an excited gasp, small body sprinting forward away from them and into what appears to be the aquarium's gift shop, Changbin sighing lightly as if mentally preparing himself for what was about to come.

Hyunjin only grins at Jia's exuberance as she skips around the store, gasping and pointing to each overtly cute stuffed animal she sees, her eyes turning wide and begging as she spins around to peer up at Changbin behind her.

"Okay, you can pick one thing but nothing over $20." Jia thanks him cheerfully as she starts to run around, carefully inspecting each price tag with a ponderous look on her face.

Curious from never really having been in a toy store before, Hyunjin glances around in interest, skimming over the rather plain souvenirs and exploring instead the colorful array of plushies all staring at him with big, glassy eyes.

Changbin gazes at him in amusement each time Hyunjin's face lights up, a small gasp emitting from his lips as he spots a particularly adorable stuffed sea turtle with round, glassy eyes and a shy little smile peeking up at him. "Look at it." He turns to Changbin with an endeared pout on his face. "It's so cute."

"It is," Changbin laughs, scanning over its plush little body. "How much is it?"

Hyunjin waves his hand dismissively, stomach coiling in pleasant flutters at the way Changbin looks at him as Jia all of the sudden comes bouncing back with a very pink, very glittery seahorse that she thrusts right in their faces.

"Ta-da!" She announces proudly, grin electrified as she shows it off, her ruffled skirt billowing slightly from how energetically she moves. "I want this one!"

"Aw, that one's cute," Changbin smiles, bending down to pat it gently on the head as Jia nods vigorously. "What's it's name?"

"Coconut," she says it as if it were obvious, Hyunjin laughing as Changbin takes a hold of it to go pay at the register.

"That's a good name." Hyunjin glances down at Jia fondly, grateful he thinks, to no longer question the ease that shrouds itself around him in their company. "And you can call it 'Coco' for short."

"Or 'Nut,'" Jia giggles, a sudden dreamy expression encompassing her as she turns oddly serious. "One day I'm gonna go to the beach and swim to see all the animals and palm trees and coconuts. Sophie told me monkeys give you coconuts at the beach if they like you."

"Really? I'm sure they'd definitely like you."

"I think so too," she grins, seemingly proud of such a sentiment. "Because I'm very nice with animals."

"Hey." Changbin appears behind them then, smiling playfully as he has both of his arms tucked behind his back, flourishing forward one hand as he presents the seahorse eagerly to Jia. "For the jellyfish."

Jia cheers cutely as she grabs it and gently strokes its head, Changbin directing his attention to Hyunjin as he produces forth his other hand, a small, big-eyed sea turtle peering up at him sweetly. "And for the princess."

Hyunjin thinks he can feel his heart begin to drip its way down his stomach, emotion surging through him as he gingerly accepts the soft plushie, chest beating itself to gooey pulp. "You didn't have to do that." His voice becomes thick with devotion as he stares Changbin in the eye, lips drooping in a sense of fond disbelief. "Really."

"I know but," Changbin only continues to grin, face streaked with that same affection that always renders him weak-kneed and feathery. "Bunny deserves a friend, don't you think?"

Hyunjin bites his lip, a strangled feeling of gratitude overcoming him, a little ridiculous, when he thinks about it, how such a silly, childish thing could bring him so much emotion. "Thank you."

Leaning over quickly, he gives him a short, sweet kiss on the cheek as his chest continues to disentangle itself, Changbin's eyes sparkling as Jia very pointedly makes a face and a disgusted-sounding "Yuck!" as she stares up at them.

Glancing at him fondly, Changbin rips his gaze away and settles it down on Jia, decisively picking her up and playfully chastising her for being so rude as she starts to uncontrollably giggle.

Hyunjin laughs at her scrunched up expression, the three of them winding their way home as the low burning sun begins to set. Jia asks him a thousand questions about his new teddy bear as soon as he confirms that it can in fact be best friends with Coconut, her hand wiggling around as she starts to play with him, talking through her own seahorse plushie with a high-pitched voice as she directs it toward his turtle.

Unable to stop the beam that flits itself across his face, Hyunjin plays along gladly, the conversation turning a little strange once Coco the Seahorse decides that they should start stealing money from the mean humans at the beach though he supposes he can't really refute idea, not really coming up with a good enough reason as to why not.

Jia tugs him along eagerly into her room as soon as they're back home, insisting this time that her father come along as well as she very resolutely hands him the only male doll she owns, Changbin groaning as if in expectance as he starts to complain about always having to be the boy.

He's so boring, Changbin grumbles, Jia nodding wholeheartedly in agreement as Hyunjin bursts out in laughter, picking up his own designated mermaid princess doll who now very happily has a new sea turtle for a pet.

His heart feels heavy throughout the day, brimmed with a sense of belonging as breathing turns mellow and soft, the twilight hue spilling in rays upon the ocean-coated wallpaper.

For a quick, golden moment in which he thinks he's awaited his entire life, he thinks something glues itself back together again in the marrows of his lungs, ruptured childhood threaded innocently for the first time as something weaves itself complete.

Snowy, guiltless, Hyunjin cradles it closely to his chest, interlacing the gentleness within his own spindly touch that veil of fleeting purity.

 

-

 

When you turn eighteen, we can get out of here.

Something heavy shifts beneath his eyelids, splintered shadows weighing themselves down, down, down as his vision turns checkered; a kaleidoscope of dull, matted colors to blind him with. Hyunjin shifts uncomfortably to the side, sheets snaring their way around him until his limbs settle tightly within its grasp, sticky, stuck. Trapped.

We could finally be together. Somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Where no one knows us.

The inside of his mouth feels coated with decaying rust, lips pursing quietly as his exhales filter through the dark of night like wisps of a deathly smoke. Lungs swell despite the way his chest compresses, the discomfort twinging as his bones turn sore and reddened from the lack of space. Raw, chipped, a few more breaths away from bleeding.

Wouldn't you want that, hm, my dove? You're so pretty. So beautiful. I want to be able to look at you forever.

His head lulls to the side, neck pulsating in a slight ache as it twists sharply on the pillow, his hand twitching as his leg gives a sudden, muffled jerk.

Somewhere in the distance a vague shape burns its way into his vision, pitiful cries of something that flutters up and down, up and down, trailing desperately after its mother, her beak turned high and mighty as she refuses to look behind and then- the little bird halts, wings drooping their way to the ground as if to cast an anchor, head rearing itself down as it turns ready to dive, eager and tempted by something down below but then - Hyunjin's breath hitches, the sluggishness of sleep slowly ebbing away - what will happen to the mother?

I would leave her. For you. She can't do anything about it. Don't worry. She'd never find us. And then she wouldn't bother you anymore. Doesn't that sound nice?

Soft, drowsy hums seep heavily from his lips, heartrate slowing as his limbs begin to sink. That does sound nice. Nice, nice, nice. Like brittlebush in the summer, like floral teas in winter. White peony. Melted ice cubes in a watered down, tooth-rotting, sun-drenched lemonade on the porch. Nice. Nice.

Smooth legs, tanned skin. A swirly, weeping head to pick apart. Put it back together again. Always so carefully, always so prettily, his clumsy doll that keeps tripping. Always so nice.

I love you. I love you. Don't you love me too?

What a silly story. Silly, silly. Hyunjin's bones slump heavily into the mattress, dwindling away like a leaden heart in quicksand. Hyunjin loves the moon, the stars. The color of the sky on his way home from school. Hyunjin loves the wielding of limbs, the way they stretch and sometimes ache. He loves the taste of syrup on his tongue. The scent of sugar in his nose. Blush-threaded lace. Pretty words, pretty tears. His reflection in the dust-coated mirror. Hyunjin thinks love and hate are not that different.

Snowfall never comes, not here, not in the barren backdrop of a sweltering desert and so Hyunjin lets the eventual awakening of the sun ease his body into a tired, yielding yawn as his dreams escape him once again.

Unable to remember, Hyunjin blinks open his eyes and carries on with the day through a sense of deep unsettlement within him, something prickly, something needle-like weaving its way into his veins as he cleans, cleans, cleans his mind to quietude.

Hyunjin spends the night at his own place whenever Changbin doesn't work the club, walking home alone as a weary, sometimes painful sigh lulls him to sleep. Still today there's a certain discomfort rippling behind his eyelids, muffled whispers that grate against his skull and yet he remains futile in recognizing any of the shapes that haunt him so.

Whenever unease becomes him, that strange daunting sense of watchful eyes peering from inside of his own walls, he decides to slither his way to somewhere else, binding himself to the sidewalk cracks as he eagerly heads down toward the familiar scent of green soap and buzzing, ink-stained needles.

Jeongin hardly even looks up from his desk whenever he comes around anymore, Hyunjin slinking in with confidence as Changbin always greets him pleasantly surprised.

Slowly he finds himself becoming more and more relaxed around Jisung and Chan as well, their nature humming with low resolution as if steadily grounded and laid-back, a stark yet comforting contrast to his own constant, sanitizing hands.

Hyunjin watches in a keen, almost mesmerized interest as Changbin manages to contain a steady grip and unwavering assurance throughout his clients, leaning behind his desk as he lets the peaceful rustle of the studio distract him contentedly.

It isn't until they're getting ready to close up that the three of them approach Changbin's desk where he's sitting quietly, chatting good-naturedly about everything and anything as Hyunjin listens intently, eyes scrunching up in soft laughter whenever anyone says something funny.

It's nice, he thinks, being able to partake in friendly conversation without stuttering his way through or even relying on the constant, snorting of lines backstage to keep his energy going. They don't seem to mind it even, when he falls on the quieter side, shrinking back as he tilts his head to the side and simply lets their discourse flow through him without feeling the need to say anything at all.

Changbin always gives him a gentle, kind look whenever he retreats back, almost as if to signal through his gaze that everything was okay, that they would leave at any moment.

Hyunjin appreciates it, Changbin's constant attention to the slightest slumping of his body like a beacon to rely on without ever really having to let him know. It feels strange he thinks, having drained himself of so many remnants and given them for Changbin to unknowingly cherish. It feels good. Relieving, even.

Getting ready to go, Changbin quickly halts for a moment, turning to look at him as Hyunjin promptly sits back down in the chair, clearly having just suddenly thought of something important. "Oh by the way, Jisung's throwing a barbecue next week at his house."

Hyunjin perks up at that, back straightening in interest as he diverts his attention to Jisung with wide, curious eyes. "You own a house?"

Jisung nods, his baggy clothes swallowing him from the way his shoulders shrink a little. "It's my parents' technically, but they pretty much gave it to me when they decided to embark on their 'spiritual' journey to travel the world."

Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard as Chan laughs. "What?"

"Yeah they left like three years ago," Jisung explains, grinning slightly as if amused by the mere thought. "According to the last postcard they sent I think they're in Costa Rica right now."

"Wow," he mutters, completely unsure of what to say, the idea of even traveling overseas like an incomprehensible dream he'd never once let himself consider. "That's..."

"They're pretty untraditional." Jisung grimaces then, shaking his head as if in a pained disbelief. "My mom used to make sugar cookie edibles and give them to me to hand out at parties 'cause she wanted me to make friends."

Hyunjin's eyes bulge at that, Chan laughing once more as if grinning along to the memory. "Your mom is cool as fuck."

Jisung shoots him an incredulous look before diverting his attention back to Hyunjin again, face wincing as he speaks. "Yeah but it's not so cool when you're thirteen and your classmates find out your parents teach a Tantric sex workshop."

Both Chan and Changbin burst out laughing at that, Hyunjin's expression turning entirely bewildered as Jisung shudders. "At least I got a house out of it. Can't really complain."

"That explains a lot actually," Hyunjin grins, gaze glimmering playfully as he tries to digest the information just divulged his way. "No wonder you're so weird."

Jisung raises an eyebrow at that, smiling despite his insult as if pleasantly surprised by his joke. "Touché."

"Anyway, it's the three year anniversary of our studio," Changbin cuts in, Hyunjin peering at him happily as he takes in each curve and bend of his smile. "We throw a barbecue every year to celebrate it. Do you think you wanna come? We'll throw it on a Monday, so no work to worry about."

"Yeah," Hyunjin grins, stomach flooding with small ripples of excitement. "Of course." Changbin beams at him then, face lighting up as its warmth seeps its way right into him. "That sounds fun. I've never been to a barbecue before."

"Sweet," Jisung quips as Hyunjin turns to look at him. "Everybody's gotta bring something, like a side dish. And then we cook the food there."

"Okay," he nods, momentary nerves passing through at the thought of having to 'bring' something. "Um. Who's 'everybody'?"

"Just us three, you, Sora and Jia."

"Cool." He smiles, insides clenching slightly at the prospect of spending the evening beneath Sora's scrutinizing gaze and yet the happy, appeased glimmer in which they all regard him with as if they truly do want him there settles him down all the same.

Changbin sends him a glowing smile as he starts packing together his things, Jisung retreating into the reception area after Jeongin calls out to him to engage in some heated debate he doesn't understand in the slightest as he's left alone with a grinning, easygoing Chan.

"I'm glad you're coming," he says, dimples charming as he stares at him. "It means a lot to Changbin and we like having you around, you know."

Giddiness surges through him as he tries to suppress a smile, a strange yet almost ingenious idea forming in his head. "Thank you. I like hanging out with you guys too. You're really nice."

Chan waves him off humbly as if it's nothing, Hyunjin glancing at him up and down as if sizing him up, waves of excitement rolling within him as he smirks. Why the fuck hadn't he thought of it earlier?

"Do you get weird around strippers?" He asks, eyes wide and genuine as Chan's face only morphs into one of a humorous bewilderment, clearly not having expected any such question at all.

"Uh, I hope not?" He laughs, his words sounding more confused than resolute. "You're the only stripper I know."

Hyunjin tilts his head then, eyes narrowing as he speaks. "Say you met someone who was really cute and kind and sweet but you found out they were a stripper, would you get weird?"

Chan looks at him in puzzlement for a while, almost as if waiting for Hyunjin to explain what he's talking about, ending up with a simple, yet far too uncertain. "No?"

Hyunjin hums, crossing his arms as his scrutinizing stare continues to bore into him. "Do you like baked goods?"

"Who doesn't?" Chan laughs, expression twisting into a carefree smile and really, it's all the confirmation he needs before a wicked grin sneaks its way across his face, determination blossoming coolly in his mind.

Chan opens his mouth to speak, undoubtedly wanting to asking him what's going on before Changbin makes his way over, interrupting them with a beaming glimmer in his eye.

"Ready to go?"

Hyunjin nods, clasping his hand within Changbin's as he waves a satisfied goodbye to both Chan and Jisung, though he isn't quite sure if Jisung even hears him from how passionately he seems to be discussing something spirited to a very disinterested Jeongin. Hyunjin laughs at their juxtaposition, smiling happily as soon as the sun greets them from outside.

Changbin gives him a tender, admiring glance as Hyunjin bites his lip, a little shy beneath his watchful gaze all of the sudden. "What?"

"You just look radiant, is all," Changbin grins.

"Radiant?" Hyunjin quirks an eyebrow teasingly, shaking his head. "You're getting creative."

"I'm serious," Changbin insists, swinging their hands together cheerfully. "Beneath the sun, with that smile. You know, I'm pretty sure that smile could cure diseases."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes playfully, unable still to stop the grin that weaves its way across his lips. Determination from before still coursing through his veins, he turns to Changbin curiously then. "Do you think we could invite Felix to the barbecue?"

Slightly taken aback, Changbin ponders his question for a second, face quickly falling into an easy smile. "Sure, why not? That's a good idea actually."

"He can bring dessert," Hyunjin quips, satisfaction pounding in his gut as a small sense of triumph flits its way right into him. His heart feels fluttery then, as they walk hand in hand to pick up Jia, feathery, floating temptations of something he's never had, something so closely within his reach glimmering steadily in his tar-soaked vision.

For a second he longs to reach out into the distance, throw himself upon a horizon always just beyond and yet he falters, something holding him back, something still weary of burnt flesh despite the blisters that litter the chambers of his heart.

Perhaps treading the tightrope only worked if there was someone below to catch you, he thinks, eyes shimmering with the beads of crystallized devotion each time he remembers that for once in his life, there is.

 

-

 

The splendor of the window-echoed light blue reflects in shiny strips upon Jia's eyes from where she sits excitedly in the backseat of the car, black hair sun-soaked as it falls across her shoulders. She peers out the window with an avid interest as Hyunjin glances at her amusedly, body thrumming with a jittery string of nerves he tries repeatedly to smoothen out.

The streets blur hypnotically from outside Sora's car, Changbin turning back from the front seat every few seconds to give him a knowing, comforting smile.

Jia hums contentedly as they make their way to the barbecue, patting the plastic-wrapped watermelon sitting between them as if it were a baby, Coco the Seahorse nestled snugly in the nook of her arm as she sings absentmindedly to some song he doesn't recognize.

Despite the seeds of unease that filter around within him, a larger part preens in a certain swell of excitement, satisfaction he thinks, that he's able to take part in something so special. Maybe even a little indent of pride, small, hard to discern specks of fulfillment he can't help but capture joy from.

His fingers drum in hardened anticipation upon his thighs as the car swivels at last into Jisung's driveway, a little handbag that he'd brought with him sitting right next to him brimmed with any type of sanitizing object he could think of - he was not about to potentially put himself through some neurotic breakdown in front of everyone, least of all Changbin's mother.

Still he hardly has time to mentally freak out over each conceivable disastrous outcome that could arise - not that he hadn't already gone through them the last few days - before Jia practically zooms out of the car the minute it comes to a standstill, running forward to the front door as a very cheerful looking Jisung crouches down to give her a hug.

Hyunjin's heart clenches endearingly despite himself as he makes his way outside as well, grabbing onto the watermelon as the car door slams shut. Changbin slinks by his side immediately, a large bowl of potato salad in his arms as he gives him a charming smile, Hyunjin's chest falling into an excited ease as they make their way into the house.

Jisung greets them enthusiastically, the four of them being the first to arrive in order to set up everything and prepare a few side dishes, Jia laughing in entertainment as Jisung decides to give them a very much exaggerated house tour for Hyunjin's part.

The house is not particularly large Hyunjin assumes, though it feels almost gigantic in comparison to the one he'd had growing up, the walls adorned with photos of what he assumes to be tattoo-designs, framed-band posters and other artistically styled advertisements he doesn't really know what to make of.

Jisung leads them all into the kitchen as Sora immediately weaves her way around and starts producing forth cutting boards and knives as if having been there a hundred times before - apparently they had a few salads to prepare for the evening.

Though despite the rather homey sensation to the kitchen, it's the garden outside connected by a screen-door that really impresses him, Jisung leading them outside with a grin as Jia launches into cartwheels upon the grass.

Expanding from the house is a large, checkered patio adorned with a dining table and a grill, the yard stretching out abundantly with neatly-trimmed bushes to hide the enclosing fence around, a lofty oak tree standing proudly in the middle with a thick, protruding branch strung with rope and a tire-swing.

Hyunjin nearly gapes in amazement, turning back to look at Jisung with a wide smile on his face. "Your yard is beautiful."

"Thanks," Jisung grins, gesturing vaguely to what looks like some type of shed in the upper right corner of the garden. "I was thinking of setting up a couple of chairs around the grass so that people can take the food from the table and sit wherever they want."

"And then as soon as the sun sets we can all sit by the fire pit," Changbin explains, Hyunjin following his gaze to what seems to be a circular enclosing of stones, his mouth opening in a quiet gasp as soon as his eyes land upon it.

"You have a fire pit?" He stares at Jisung in wonder, Jisung nodding almost sheepishly as if embarrassed by Hyunjin's astoundment, Changbin laughing amusedly. About to say something, a sudden sharp sound of glee resounds from the distance, promptly cutting Changbin off as his gaze settles on Jia.

"Oh crap," he mutters, Jia rolling happily around in the grass as Changbin starts walking over, picking her up easily into the air as she bursts out in giggles. "How many times have I told you not to rub grass on your clothes?"

"Look Uncle Jisung, I'm a green alien," Jia grins, satisfied in Changbin's hold as he continues to chastise her gently, Jisung laughing loudly despite the sharp glare Changbin sends his way.

Hyunjin can't help but crack a smile as well once he notices the branches nestled in Jia's hair and the small patches of dirt smeared across her cheek, Changbin sighing as he makes his way back into the house, Jia still giggling ecstatically from where she hangs across his shoulder.

"I'm just gonna clean her up," he explains, Jia waving them a mischievous goodbye as they promptly disappear behind the screen door. Suddenly hyperaware of being left alone outside with Jisung, his insides constrict slightly, hands prickling with a sudden wave of nerves.

"I'm gonna start setting up the grill and stuff, you know, marinate the meat," Jisung says, clearly infected by the same influx of awkward tension as Hyunjin all but blinks.

"Oh." Not wanting to just stand there idle and completely useless, he pinches his forearm discreetly as his back straightens up. "Is there something I can do? To help?"

Jisung seems to think for a moment, looking back and forth between the grill and him until an idea pops into his head. "Sure! Why don't you help Sora out with the salads?"

Fuck. He shouldn't have fucking asked.

Hyunjin only smiles tightly, nodding his head as he curses himself all the way back inside the kitchen. Sora only glances up at him quickly in recognition once she notices someone entering the house, her black hair tied in a ponytail as she concentratedly turns her attention back to slicing a cucumber up on the counter.

Chest rattled with ripples of anxiety, Hyunjin gnaws harshly on his bottom lip as he treads over to her on the opposite side of the counter, Sora stilling rigidly as she stares up at him in expectance.

"Um." Hyunjin wants to hit himself over the head with something, his stance shrinking from beneath her watch. Jesus fucking Christ. "I was told to come help you prepare the salads."

Sora nods briskly, her shoulders slightly tense as she gestures to a plastic container filled with small cherry tomatoes. "You can start by cutting those."

Hyunjin gives her a tight, strained smile as he makes his way over to the sink, careful to thoroughly clean his hands and rinse the vegetables before he starts to cut, movements slow and meticulous as he wields the knife to the best of his abilities. Surely chopping a couple of vegetables can't be that difficult, and really, he thinks he's getting the hang of it despite how unfamiliar he is with cooking-

"Have you never cut a tomato before?" Sora looks at him quizzically, forehead creased as she stares skeptically down at the small dices on his cutting board.

Hyunjin opens his mouth to respond, not knowing at all what to say before Sora promptly sighs, taking hold of his cutting board and switching it with her own. "How about you crumble the feta instead? Just take a fork and press it down until it smolders."

Hyunjin blinks rapidly as he eventually nods, embarrassment squeezing tightly through his stomach before he goes back to the sink to once again wash his hands. Onetwothree, onetwothree, onetwothree - Sora gives him another strange look but Hyunjin pays it no mind, the thought of mindlessly touching Jisung's cutlery leaving his skin crawling and itchy.

The feta as it turns out, he does manage to satisfactorily crumble, placing his work happily in the large salad bowl after Sora gives him a short nod of approval.

Next up - black olives, his hand starting to get the hang of it after a while as he and Sora settle into a strange, entirely too tightly stretched silence side by side. "So..." Sora mutters, shooting him a quick, polite smile before diverting her attention back to the avocado in her hand. "You went to the aquarium the other week, right?"

Oh, this is what they're doing now? "Yeah," Hyunjin says, not really sure what he's supposed to feel as he pointedly keeps his gaze fixated on his cutting board. "We did." Sora nods, an uncomfortable dead air wafting between them once more. Fucking hell. "I've never been to an aquarium before so...it was fun."

"Really?" She looks slightly surprised at that, glancing up at him as Hyunjin catches her eyes in his own, expression streaked with a quiet shock.

"Mmh." Finished with the olives, he pours them into the bowl as he turns back to the sink to clean the cutting board and of course, his hands. He doesn't really understand what's so unexpected about never having been to an aquarium before, fingers picking up a red onion as he carefully starts to dice - surely, it can't be that common.

Sora raises an eyebrow in his direction then, gaze scrutinizing as it bores into him. "You know, you don't have to wash your hands after each individual vegetable you touch."

Hyunjin freezes, shoulders tensing for a minute before he forces them to relax. "Right."

Still Sora continues to stare at him, forehead furrowing slightly as if not knowing how to discern his behavior. "I take it you don't have much experience with cooking."

"Um, no." He laughs nervously, hand twitching from where it grips onto the knife. "I just- well, I just like having good hygiene. That's all."

"Huh." Sora looks at him strangely for a second before going back to her cutting board, the two of them once again succumbing to a stifling silence as Hyunjin tries not to let it seep right into him ready to blister.

He doesn't know how long they stand there like that, quietly completing a couple of different side dishes to which Hyunjin realized how much he'd underestimated the variety of salads before a sudden flourish of neatly combed, silky black hair interrupts them gladly.

"Look!" Jia grins, spinning around in front of the kitchen counter dressed in something else entirely from mere minutes ago, light denim shorts and a purple, giraffe-sequined t-shirt oscillating beneath the light. "I'm all clean."

"And with a new set of clothes as well." Sora gives her a look of a playful admiration. "This is turning into a bit of a fashion show, isn't it?"

Jia smiles proudly as Changbin sighs behind her, grabbing her head gently with his two hands and rattling her as if to shake in some sense, Jia giggling in response. "Yes but I only brought one pair of change, so Jia please no more rolling in the grass. Or else you'll have to wear your pajamas all day."

"Uh-huh," Jia nods absentmindedly as she steps up on the small stool in order to touch the counter, leaning over mischievously as she peers into the mango on Sora's cutting border before snatching up a piece and munching on it happily. Sora only raises an eyebrow at her as if in warning, but the unraveling smile that flits itself across her face betrays any sign of seriousness.

Slowly Changbin makes his way behind the counter, wrapping an arm around Hyunjin's waist as he leans into it automatically, tense body aching in the need for comfort. "How's it going?"

Hyunjin shoots a dismal stare toward the salad bowls before craning his neck back to look at him. "Uh, please expect some very unevenly chopped vegetables in your salad."

"My favorite kind," Changbin grins, Hyunjin's eyes flitting to his lips for a small, uncontrollable second, insides churning in the wakening desire to simply lean in, let the ease of a simple kiss sooth him to soft ripples for the rest of the day.

As if cemented by the slowing air between them, Hyunjin almost recoils from the sudden sound that snaps him back, Chan's voice carrying out into the hallway as Jia all but speeds toward it with a wide smile on her face.

The two of them walk back out into the kitchen together as Chan tries desperately to balance two dishes in his hand and a cooler in the other, grinning in welcome as Jia trails behind him eagerly.

"Uncle Channie, what did you bring?"

Smiling, Chan places his plates and bowl up on the counter before peering down at her charmingly. "I got the dip, the corn, the coleslaw and all the drinks - apple juice especially for you, your highness." His hand waves as it reaches for the cooler, producing forth a small juice box as he hands it to Jia with great flourish. "As requested."

Jia giggles, snatching the juice box happily as she fumbles with the plastic of the straw. "What about dessert?"

"Oh, my friend is bringing that," Hyunjin says, insides booming in a quiet, expanding thrill as Jia all but glances up at him curiously.

"Who's your friend?"

On the verge of answering, the chiming sound of the doorbell ringing cuts him off, Hyunjin quick to wash his hands as Jia's eyes widen in rapid interest, small body barreling toward the door as Changbin laughs behind her in tow.

Following rapidly, Hyunjin greets Felix happily from beneath the doorway as Jia all but hides herself bashfully behind Changbin, sneaking inspective glimpses up at him as if deciding whether or not to introduce herself.

Hyunjin laughs amusedly at Jia's sudden bouts of timidness, the contrast jarring from her usual lively exuberance as he ushers Felix into the kitchen, grateful he thinks, for his presence amongst such previously untrodden paths.

Bound by his constant glimmer of goodwill, Felix greets Sora and Chan easily, Hyunjin almost bursting out in laughter from the quick, almost paralyzed expression that had flit across Chan's face in immediate recognition.

Changbin seems to notice it too, snorting at his panicked, wide-blown eyes before Chan promptly contorted himself into the familiar shape of an easygoing friendliness, his little slip up as gone as soon as it had come.

Still a strange, extremely satisfied feeling brushes within him as he detects the rapid once-over Felix does before setting his two trays of desserts up on the counter. Seemingly having noticed the arrival of someone new, Jisung walks back inside from the garden and welcomes him cheerfully, signaling for Changbin to come help him out on the grill before shooting a shit-eating grin in Chan's direction, the two of them laughing immediately as soon they're outside.

Chan clearly is unable to catch on, busying himself almost a little too well in a discussion with Sora as he very pointedly tries not to look over at Felix.

Stifling a laugh, Hyunjin almost jumps in shock from the sudden gasp Jia makes, her presence unable to hide behind her father any longer as Felix glances down at her kindly. "You look like a fairy!"

"Oh wow, thank you. Do you wanna know a secret?" Taken aback, Felix's smile stretches even further before he crouches down to level with Jia, whispering not so quietly into her ear as Hyunjin watches from afar. "That's because I actually am one."

Jia's jaw drops open then, face slackening as her eyes glimmer in an excited uncoiling of wonder, gaze flickering up and down Felix's face with avid interest. "Fairies are real?"

Felix nods seriously, Jia's expression twisting into something that makes Hyunjin's heart squeeze, face lighting up as she beams enthusiastically. "I knew it!"

"But you can't tell anyone, okay?" Felix continues, voice low and grave as he tries not to smile. "I have to keep it a secret."

Jia nods vigorously, eyes wide in insistence and a sudden swell of pride that yes, she absolutely can keep it a secret. As if falling into a sudden thought, Jia turns to Felix closely then, the curves of her face brimming with intrigue. "Actually, can I ask you something since you are a fairy? Do you know if mermaids are real?"

"Oh they definitely are," Felix confirms, businesslike and knowing as Jia's grin explodes across her lips.

"Really?" She whispers, voice lowering as if afraid of being overheard. "Because...I think Hyunjinnie is a mermaid but I'm scared that if I ask then his secret will be broken and he will have to go back to the ocean! Because I know mermaids aren't supposed to tell anybody."

Felix's eyes soften at that, head struggling not to look over to make amused eye contact with Hyunjin from where he very pointedly pretends to be staring at his own phone. "Do you want me to find out for you?"

Jia nods earnestly, body buzzing with excitement before falling into a sudden, important stillness. "But don't tell him I know."

"Okay I won't," Felix grins. "I promise."

Jia beams happily before shooting a secretive, almost shy gaze over to Hyunjin before someone else promptly snatches away her attention, Chan coming out of his discussion with Sora as he asks her to help set the table. Jia agrees eagerly as she takes hold of the smallest salad bowl on the counter, proudly carrying it out into the garden.

"She is so cute, oh my god!" Felix gushes, making his way over to Hyunjin with a bright smile on his face. "I'm in love. I can't believe she suspects you're a merman."

"It's because of this doll," Hyunjin grins, chest inflating with a fond amusement.

"I have to tell her that you are," Felix practically begs, eyes turning wide and pleading. "Please play along."

Hyunjin laughs then. "I can't exactly grow fins or anything."

"No, just like act suspicious around water and stuff," he says as if it were obvious, face twisting into one of a whirring elation. "This is so much fun. Damn. I wish I had a child."

"Okay calm down now," Hyunjin laughs, stomach settling with a newfound sense of social comfort before he asks both Felix and Chan to help set up a couple of chairs and tables from the shed in Jisung's yard.

They both comply easily, the three of them walking outside and past a Jia who's seemingly decided to abandon her task of setting the table in favor of blowing bubbles instead, Changbin's mother popping them mischievously as Jia giggles each time.

Reaching the shed, Hyunjin vaguely manages to explain how they should be set up by pointing to where Jisung had gestured before, Felix and Chan nodding in rapt attention as Chan opens the door and starts filtering the yard furniture out.

Trying not to smirk, Hyunjin's eyes widen in a feigned sense of sudden importance. "Oh my god, I totally forgot, I have a zucchini I need to cut."

Chan and Felix both blink at him in confusion, a curling wave of laughter unfurling within him as he politely excuses himself, bidding a half-assed apology as he starts to retreat, Chan seemingly accepting his excuse as he turns back toward the shed. Felix's eyes widen in understanding as the cogs in his head begin to whirr.

Shooting him a teasing, entirely too self-gratifying wink, Hyunjin walks away happily, Felix's jaw dropping open in incredulity as he leaves the two of them alone. Really, Hyunjin thinks, Felix was asking for it, the sun stretching itself pleasantly down his neck as the garden turns itself with a lulling, gentle glow.

Deciding to help Changbin and Jisung by the grill, although extremely uselessly as it turns out, Hyunjin hardly recognizes the time that passes, eyes spent scrunched up in laughter as he thinks of everything and nothing all at once.

Jia filters by them a couple of times to try and blow bubbles in their faces, Jisung accidentally catching one in his mouth as Jia bursts into giggles at his grimacing expression. As soon as it's time to eat, Hyunjin follows Jia easily, mimicking her movements as she undoubtedly wields her barbecue experience without so much as considering it.

Scrubbing his hands thoroughly, Hyunjin grabs onto a paper plate stacked by the patio dining table, Jia teaching him wordlessly how he's supposed to display it. A burger bun first, as it turns out, Jia turning eagerly toward Changbin by the grill as he slots a patty onto the bread, Jia almost running away the second he tries to place a few grilled vegetables onto her plate as well.

Still Changbin manages to tug at her t-shirt to keep her rightfully in place before she disappears, Jia groaning as a few grilled mushrooms and zucchinis settle themselves neatly beside her burger.

Smiling amusedly at her exasperation, Hyunjin gratefully accepts the same as Changbin gives him a kind, glinting beam, his stomach rupturing in flutters. Then, as he turns back, Jia seems to be concentratedly contemplating all the dishes arranged before her, the colors vivid and bright as the sun shimmers above them.

Eventually she decides on a slice of cheese for her burger, an endless squirting of ketchup to which Hyunjin tries not to gag, a small scoop of potato salad and two slices of a rich-hued watermelon. Not entirely wanting to follow her example Hyunjin takes small scoops of everything, stomach aching in an eager hunger as he follows Jia onto the ledge of the patio, the two of them sitting down as they wait for the others to follow suit.

"Do you waftnt my vefetables?" Jia inquires mid-burger bite, staring at him hopefully as Hyunjin tries not to laugh.

"Um..."

"Absolutely not." The sudden voice of Sora resounds from above them as she promptly sits down next to Jia, shooting her a knowing look as Jia huffs in defeat, still munching happily on her burger. Sora turns to him then, his stomach brimming with an influx of nerves. "The drinks are in the cooler, do you want anything?"

Hyunjin's brain short-circuits. "Oh, um."

"There's soda, lemonade, water of course," she says. "Beer if you drink it."

"And juice boxes!" Jia quips happily, slurping loudly on the straw from her apple juice as if to prove her point. Sora laughs fondly at that, eyes softening at Jia's innocence. "Yes, you're more than welcome to drink apple juice too if you want."

Jia nods at that as if in agreement, swallowing quickly before setting down the juice box again and staring at him earnestly. "Uncle Channie brought all sorts of juices, not just apple. I saw it. There was pineapple and mango too."

"I don't know if I've ever tried either of those," Hyunjin smiles, Sora's eyebrow raising questioningly at that.

"The juices?"

"No, the fruits."

Both Jia and Sora's eyes practically pop out of their sockets at that, Jia bouncing up to her feet immediately as she lets out a loud, shock-woven, "What?!"

Her bewilderment, as it turns out, seems to have been loud enough for everyone else to turn around and crane their necks in their direction. At once Jia rushes back into the house, Sora still staring at him shocked as both Felix and Chan sit down next to them, eyes twisted in confusion.

"What's going on?" Chan laughs, Jia suddenly zooming back into the garden with two juice boxes clutched tightly in her hands, arms stretching out in order to give them to Hyunjin.

Tentatively Hyunjin accepts both drinks as he tries not to grimace from the potential prospect of germs, Sora eventually standing back up and finding some pieces of mango from one of the salads and fussing incessantly until he tries it.

Hyunjin only blinks in a rapid bewilderment and before he even realizes it, everyone has abandoned their eating and cooking in order to observe him try a mango for the first time. It isn't until his eyes widen in a delightful surprise at its taste that people seem to calm down, Jia clapping eagerly before ushering him to try the juice boxes as well, carefully inspecting his every reaction.

Eventually things manage to settle down, Changbin joining him by his side finally after having successfully grilled enough for a while, teasing him lightly about how they'll need to start going fruit shopping from now on.

Hyunjin feels the streams in chest spill over in comforting waves as the sunbaked sky continues to unravel, everyone surrounding themselves with joy and laughter as they mill about the garden enjoying the delicious, carefully prepared food.

Jia seems to get bored of eating quickly enough, jumping around the grass and doing cartwheels after cartwheels, abandoning her plate entirely as soon as she decides to start swinging on the branch-hung tire, Jisung pushing her cheerfully from behind.

Changbin keeps him company for a while, once again pointing out how he very cutely tries to eat his burger, to which Hyunjin only rolls his eyes. He just doesn't want to create a mess, is all.
It isn't until Jia decides she wants her daddy to push her from the swing instead of Jisung - Jisung appearing humorously offended by that - that Hyunjin watches with a fond smile on his face from afar.

He doesn't mind being alone then, not when even the slightest feeling of loneliness powerlessly tries to sprout itself from the soil of his mind. Despite the unfamiliarity of such carefree company, Hyunjin finds an easy, almost unbinding revelation within it that all but soothes his bones to soft, pliant clay.

Eventually he decides to go back inside the kitchen in order to properly clean his hands, maybe even take a quick break from the blistering sun as he passes by a very nervous, yet very keen Chan and Felix talking animatedly by one of the grills.

"Actually I'm really into music and composing," Chan says, gaze entirely fixated upon Felix's smiling face as Hyunjin tries not laugh from how his fingers drum restlessly on the can of beer in his hands. "I play the piano, have been since I was little."

"Oh wow, me too!" Felix grins, eyes lighting up and yet there's a strange, almost tense way in which he stands.

Hyunjin only shoots them both an amused look before walking inside the door, Chan's enthusiastic "Really?" filtering from outside as the coolness of the kitchen relieves him instantly.

He spends a few minutes carefully washing his hands in the bathroom and smoothening out his appearance, eyes flitting everywhere as he grins along to the various photos littered upon the walls, Jisung, Chan and Changbin smiling from each frame.

About to walk outside again, Hyunjin almost flinches from the panicked expression of Felix making his way into the kitchen, body frenzied as he desperately latches onto Hyunjin's presence.

"Shit, now I have to learn to play the piano!" He whispers exasperatedly, shooting a quick, nervous glance back out into the garden where Chan is now doing something with the grill. "Why the fuck did I say that?"

Hyunjin laughs, the sight of Felix so out of his element far too entertaining. "Don't worry, just start feeling him up a little and he'll forget all about it."

Felix only stares at him incredulously. "Feel him up?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin says, surely this was obvious information to Felix, he was a stripper for crying out loud. "Like touch his bicep, accidentally spill something on his lap. You know the drill."

Felix's eyebrows scrunch up almost humorously, doubt streaked across his face. "I'm not sure I do."

"Well-" Hyunjin eyes him properly then, face twisting into confusion at the very rigidly buttoned up shirt he's wearing. "Why are you dressed like a nun?" He shakes his head, mind impulsive as he all but undoes the top three buttons easily, Felix giving him an incredulous look as Hyunjin sighs. "Okay you know what you should do? Bend down somewhere to pick something up and pretend to get stuck so that he has to help you out."

Felix's eyes widen, unconvinced. "There is no way that actually works."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at that. Seriously, how had even become a stripper? "Yes it does, I used to do it all the time in high school. It's a foolproof method for sex."

"But I'm not trying to have sex like, right now."

"Oh." Hyunjin blinks, uncertainty flourishing within. "Um, yeah then I have no idea."

Felix still stares at him skeptically, eyebrows piquing in sudden interest. "That seriously worked for you in high school?"

"Yeah, my history teacher totally fell for it," Hyunjin smirks. "Worked like a charm."

Felix's expression morphs into something almost scandalized at that. "That's-okay, I don't even wanna know-" he stops himself mid lie, eyes bulging in a dramatic amusement. "You had sex with your history teacher?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin shrugs, the memory having almost evaded him entirely. "Well just once. He wasn't that good." Felix only continues to stare at him as if shocked, gaze turning more and more concerned the longer he stands there. Hyunjin frowns. "What, what's wrong?"

"Did he get arrested at least?" Felix asks, Hyunjin recoiling from the question as he huffs out a short laugh.

"No, why would he have been?" Surely it wasn't that big of a deal.

Felix's expression only turns more and more disbelieving. "You're not serious, are you?"

Hyunjin opens his mouth to answer, entirely unsure of what to say in the wake of Felix's incredulity before a small burst of energy tumbles its way into the door, pearly teeth wide and grinning as Jia gestures excitedly for them to come outside. "Hyunjinnie! We have hula-hoops!"

Intrigued, Hyunjin follows her out back into the garden with Felix in tow, grateful for having scrubbed his hands as Jia hands him a rather old looking purple and pink striped hula-hoop as she promptly starts looping her own around her waist. Impressed by her ability to keep it in balance, Hyunjin praises her rhythm, cheering her on as Jia smiles proudly.

"Look, you can twirl it with your hand too," he says, flicking the hoop in hypnotic circles above his head before suddenly dropping it down and swiveling it along with the rhythmic spin of his body to his waist, Jia staring up at him in awe as she tries to do the same.

Fumbling, Jia only laughs every time she tries to repeat it, Hyunjin grinning as he eventually slows down in order to show her more thoroughly. Still, Jia continues to struggle, unable to keep her body whirling in constant movements without dropping the hoop.

"I can't do it," Jia sulks, voice swelling with a whine as she starts to pout.

"It's okay," Hyunjin smiles, noticing briefly that pretty much everyone is watching them from some corner of the yard. "It's hard. I'm a hundred percent sure you do it better than anyone else here."

"No, I suck," Jia grumbles, tossing the hula-hoop back down onto the grass as Hyunjin's eyes widen.

Taken aback by her uncharacteristic lack of confidence and frankly a little heartbroken by her sudden gloom, Hyunjin promptly launches into a showcase in order to prove her wrong, dragging a very reluctant Changbin mid-bite from his burger onto the center of the grass.

A small smile threatens to break across Jia's face then, Hyunjin convincing her that they're going to judge every one by their hula-hooping skills as they sit down on two chairs together, Jia grabbing a pair of sunglasses and her juice box as she gets ready to assess.

Needless to say, Changbin did not live up to their standards, Jia pointedly giving a dramatic thumbs down as soon as he fumbles, leaning in to whisper in Hyunjin's ear as they discuss the points. "After careful deliberation, we will be giving you a three," Hyunjin announces, Changbin groaning exaggeratedly as Jisung takes the stage, Jia bursting out in laughter before he even begins.

Not as bad as Changbin, but not nearly able to complete the spinning hoop above the head and then down to the waist, Jia shouts a determined "Five!" as her mood increasingly seems to brighten.

Chan, another three as it turns out, Sora a very humble six and a half, and at last Felix, who turns out to be the only other person able to complete the task to which Jia erupts in appraising cheers.

"Ten!" She shouts, Felix bowing dramatically as she bounces across the grass, Changbin making his way over with a moving smile upon his face.

"That was really great you know, cheering her up like that," he says, Hyunjin leaning into his touch as his chest expands pleasantly.

"I just hated seeing her sad," he pouts, words honed of nothing but truth. "And I also really wanted to see you try it."

Changbin laughs then as if in offense. "You just wanted to see me make a fool out of myself?"

"Maybe," Hyunjin grins.

"Well, I had no idea you were such a hula-hoop master," Changbin teases, eyebrow raised as his eyes skim across his face. "You were really good."

"Please that was nothing," Hyunjin whispers, leaning in so that no one can hear them. "Just imagine that only with the smallest pair of shorts in existence. That's what I call 'really good'."

"Okay, now you're just torturing me on purpose."

Hyunjin laughs, the sound echoing throughout the upcoming hour as Jia manages to twist his brain every which way, Hyunjin beyond tired after twenty minutes of rigorous swing-pushing and countless games he's never played before.

At last he manages to sit down by the patio ledge in a brief quietude, Jia distracted as she plays a game of tag with Changbin and Jisung, her body zooming all across the yard as she shrieks excitedly.

As if noticing his solitude, Chan makes his way over, sitting down next to him as he gives him a knowing look. "You good?" He smiles, Hyunjin nodding in truthfulness as he watches fondly from afar as Changbin finally catches Jia in his arms, her face scrunching up in giggles as she in turn tries to catch him.

A sudden thought crosses his mind then, neck turning to stare Chan apprehensively in the eye. "Can I ask you something about Changbin?"

"Sure," Chan shrugs, taking a sip of his beer as Hyunjin drums nervously on his thighs. The question had been nagging at the back of his head for a while now and yet still uncertainty tunnels through him. He remembers the little sea turtle plushie back in his own apartment with a sharp tug to his chest.

"It's just...well, I've never been in a relationship before so I don't really know how it works but Changbin always pays for everything and...I mean I've offered to help him out with money but he always says no." Hyunjin frowns then, scanning Chan's for his reaction. "And I feel kind of bad about it."

Chan only grimaces as if it was hardly an observation new to him. "Yeah, Changbin never accepts money from anybody, he's very stubborn."

"Why not?" Hyunjin's eyebrows furrow, confusion enveloping him whole. "I mean...he's surrounded by people who want to help."

Chan sighs at that, shoulders tensing slightly as if in deep thought. "I think it's cause we do help. A lot. And especially with everything that happened the first year of Jia's life...I think he sometimes feels like he needs to prove something. That he's capable of getting certain things right on his own, that he's capable of taking care of her. It's frustrating yeah, of course we wouldn't think he's less capable if he accepted financial help here and there but I think it's more of a stupid pride thing."

"Well, that is stupid," Hyunjin points, stomach twisting with streaks of sympathy as he casts another glance over toward a smiling, satisfied Jia hiding behind the oak tree as Changbin very dramatically pretends not to see her. "He's a great father. Anybody can see that."

"Yeah everybody but him," Chan huffs. "I think he still feels very guilty for not being there her first year."

Hyunjin bites on his lower lip nervously, the sky brushing itself with a powdery, gentle rouge. "Like at all?"

Chan's eyes shimmer with something painful as Hyunjin stares into them, jaw hardening subconsciously as if aching from the mere memory. "It was...a bad time for everyone. I don't know how much he's told you."

Truthfully Hyunjin knows that there are ridged roads that have curved their way up Changbin's life, his hardships only fueling the gratitude that blooms within his chest as he thinks of it. "That he relapsed after Jia's mother died and that he...well, like you said, that he missed out on a lot."

Chan sighs deeply, words woven with a great strain as he looks up briefly into the heavens. "Yeah, he was off the rails. He'd come and go, disappear for days doing God knows what and then show up again all fucked up."

Hyunjin's stomach clenches, fingers needlelike as a sudden nervousness pinches them thin. "Sora was taking care of Jia, she pretty much kicked him out of their apartment and he stayed with me and Jisung. Well, when he was around." Chan shakes his head then. It's clear he doesn't like talking about it. "You should probably ask him about it, but yeah the only time Sora let him around Jia was if he was sober, which wasn't a lot."

"That must've been hard," Hyunjin mutters, voice low and hushed as if indented by all the heaviness it bore.

"It was," Chan nods. "Jisung and I tried our best to make him realize that he needed to pull himself together but...shit's hard when you're never really mentally present. It was sad in the beginning but then it just pisses you off, you know?"

"Yeah, I can imagine..." His words dwindle into dust then, mind trailing off to somewhere static and sad as his heart squeezes. Foolishly he wishes he had Bunny then.

The two of them settle into a strange, entirely too leaden silence as if momentarily transported to somewhere else, somewhere far beyond the comforting smell of charcoal and sweetened fruit, sounds of unworried laughter echoing from beneath the sky.

Suddenly Jisung makes his way over to them, face twisting in an amused sense of concern upon their solemn expressions. "You two look depressed as shit. What're you talking about?"

"When Changbin was using," Chan answers dully, eyes downcast and foggy as he stares absentmindedly down at his can of beer.

"Oh." Jisung's body tenses immediately, sitting down in front of them upon the grass as he lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, that'll do it." Chan only nods distractedly, Hyunjin staring at Jisung meekly as his forehead creases, mind submerged no doubt in unpleasant thoughts. "Remember that time you had to break down the door? Scariest moment of my life."

Hyunjin's neck cranes up at that, a taut sense of intrigue flaring within him. "What happened?"

"Should we really be talking about this?" Chan grimaces, casting a pained look over at Changbin in the distance, Jisung seemingly not having the same concerns.

"Changbin was at Sora's apartment talking about how he wanted to take Jia to the park and she let him in cause he was sober but then he took something in their bathroom and like...wouldn't give Jia back." Jisung stares at him earnestly as Hyunjin's eyes widen. "Then he got all paranoid that she was gonna take her from him, so he locked them in the bedroom, Sora freaked out of course, called us and Chan broke the door."

"Oh my god," he breathes out, something agonizing breaking through his limbs.

"Luckily everything was fine," Jisung continues, "Jia was on the bed crying and Changbin was just on the floor having a seizure or something."

Chan grumbles then, clearly dissatisfied at living through the story once again. "It wasn't a seizure-"

"Well, whatever it was, it was not pretty."

"Okay let's not talk about this anymore," Chan points out, voice determined and insistent as he gives Jisung a sharp glare. "Yeah the situation was fucked up, but that's way in the past and Changbin got his shit together. He's proven himself to be a great father, so we should stop."

Jisung's eyes widen at that, gaze turning back to Hyunjin as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh shit, I kind of forgot you two are dating. He's a great guy, really." Hyunjin only blinks, unsure of what he means by that as Jisung's panic increases. "Please don't let that scare you off because Changbin will actually kill me."

"Don't worry," Hyunjin smiles. "I'm in no position to judge and besides, I know he's changed. He's...well...he's really great. I like him a lot."

"Ugh." Jisung's face morphs into one of disgust. "You're just as bad as him. You two make me sick."

"Sick with jealousy," Hyunjin smirks, Chan laughing at Jisung's exasperated expression.

"Literally yes," he groans, eyes turning aggravated in a growing desperation. "How come you try to set Chan up with someone and not me? I'm the one who needs help here!"

"Wait, what?" Chan perks up, bewilderment striking him as Hyunjin tries not to laugh. "Set me up with who?"

Jisung only rolls his eyes in frustration. "How dense are you, man?"

Hyunjin grins as they both turn to him in expectance, satisfied as he feigns his ignorance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Jisung groans again then, gaze turning pleading as it directs itself intently toward him. "Can't you set me up with one of your friends?"

"Yeah, no." Hyunjin tries not to snort, almost forgetting entirely that he doesn't really have 'friends.' "I only know strippers and you're horrible with them."

"No, no that was the old me," Jisung insist, hand on his heart as if preaching from the soul. "I'm totally cool around strippers now, swear to God." Chan only gives him a deadpan stare as Hyunjin raises an eyebrow skeptically.

Steadfast in his perseverance, Jisung confidently continues. "Yeah sure they're hot and everything but like, that doesn't even faze me anymore. I'm totally chill."

Chan snickers at that. "Yeah like you don't constantly stare at Hyunjin whenever Changbin isn't looking."

Jisung opens his mouth in indignation, stuttering vehemently through his embarrassment as he turns to Hyunjin firmly. "I do not!"

Unable to help the rises of laughter that surge up his throat, Hyunjin only places a hand over his mouth as he looks amusedly between the two of them. Jisung turns sharply to Chan then, face marred by a decisive anger. "Fuck you. I'm telling Felix about that time you got diarrhea at the mall."

Chan's face visibly heats up, clearly caught off guard as Hyunjin's laughter only triples. "That was Panda Express' fault and you know it! Then I'll be happy to let the next stripper you meet know that you cried watching Mean Girls."

"Hey!" Jisung's eyes widen in offense. "Her spring-fling speech was very moving, okay? Jokes on you, lots of people prefer a man that can cry, anyway."

A wicked idea pops into his head then, mouth unraveling with a smirk as he diverts his attention mischievously to Jisung. "Well, maybe I could set you up with Minho. He loves a sensitive man."

Jisung very clearly peaks in interest at that, both Felix and Changbin at last making their way over as Jia chats animatedly to Sora beneath the oak tree. "Who's Minho?"

Felix's eyes widen in horror as he determinately cuts in to their conversation. "Oh my god, no. I'm sorry but Minho would skin you alive."

Even Changbin looks pained at the mere thought, face grimacing as he stares down at Jisung. "That would be the most disastrous interaction I'd ever witness."

Hyunjin laughs, sipping contentedly on one of the pineapple juice boxes Jia had given him earlier. "Actually I don't know who I'd feel more sorry for."

Changbin turns to him incredulously then, eyes bulging in insistence. "Jisung!"

Jisung only continues to gaze around with a growing, swiveling interest. "Okay I don't know who this Minho is but if you're all trying to make him sound hard to get, then it's working."

Before Hyunjin can burst out in anymore laughter than that which already surges through him, Sora comes over with Jia in tow, interrupting them thankfully from anymore catastrophic discussions of Minho.

"Alright, I think it's time for dessert now," she smiles, shooting a grinning Jia a playful look. "This one has been asking for it nonstop."

Dessert, as it turns out, had been made entirely from scratch by Felix, though he'd doubted no less, Jia munching happily on a brownie as Hyunjin tries for the first time a peach cobbler, the sky burning itself with a deep, raging red before it flickers off entirely, dark-casted blueness painting itself hypnotically from above.

As evening falls upon them, Jia's eyes continue to grow heavy, her head drooping onto Changbin's shoulder as they all settle around the crackling pillars of copper-tinted flames, the seven of them fitting almost too perfectly around the bonfire. Hyunjin settles easily into a gentle sway as Jisung eventually finds a guitar, strumming along the strings melodically through the echoing of song into the night.

Almost hypnotized by the sparkling embers that warm his bones, those hardened limbs always too strung, too tight to ever fall at ease, Hyunjin vaguely recognizes within himself how strange, how unusual his existence unfolds itself, perched upon the rickety ledge of a lawn chair as he lets the momentary promise of breathing unrestrained pass through him.

It feels as if drawn to a precious, delicately held token of infinity, stretching and stretching just as the boundless horizon upon that chasmic sky above them. So much wiser, so much heavier than the rest of them. He wonders if the constellations gleam the same out there in the barren desert.

Within them, he thinks he can see both Changbin and Jia's eyes reflected, glimmering with stardust too powdery to latch onto and yet he does, fingers desperate, aching to color themselves with something that for once doesn't hurt. Small, scattered whines begin to seep their way out of Jia's throat then, the darkness of the sky drawing forth wispy, featherlike yawns as she repeatedly wipes them all away.

"Okay, I think it's time for you to go to bed," Changbin whispers from next to him, Jia's sleepy expression pouting profusely as she buries her head even further in the nook of his neck.

"No," she whines, Changbin cradling her gently as he stands up, Jia looping her arms around his neck. "I don't wanna."

"C'mon baby, let's go." Changbin kisses the top of her head briefly as he starts to walk away back into the house, Jia making grabby fussing hands in the air as her tiredness turns her sulky.

"Can Hyunjinnie come?" She asks, voice pleading and petulant as Hyunjin's stomach erupts in fondness. Changbin turns around as if in search of the answer within his eyes, Hyunjin standing up from the bonfire immediately as he walks over to them, smiling affectionately in Jia's direction before they make their way inside Jisung's house.

Deciding to put Jia to bed and then carrying her sleeping body into the car for when they leave, Changbin had already brought a pair of pajamas and her toothbrush, Jia brushing lazily as her eyes continue to flutter shut.

Hyunjin almost coos as she very clumsily puts on her starfish-speckled pajamas, a little horrified by the sudden way in which he comes to realize that he doesn't recognize himself at all anymore. Still, the feeling sinks within him ready to be taken apart at another moment, Jia grabbing cutely onto Changbin's shirt as he lifts her into what seems to be a guest room and places her gently under the covers, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face as Jia huffs.

"Alright, say good night to Hyunjin."

Jia yawns sleepily then, stretching her arms out as Hyunjin leans in for her hug, surprised that he'd understood immediately what to do, her small hands wrapping themselves around his neck as she utters out a soft, hushed, "Good night."

"Good night," Hyunjin whispers back, heart swelling as he gently pulls away, Changbin leaning in to give her another hug as her arms yearningly reach out for him.

"Good night Daddy," she mutters drowsily, her eyes fluttering as she struggles not to let them fall shut, Changbin smiling fondly at her increasing failure to do so. "Good night jellyfish." He leans down to kiss her gently on the forehead, eyes surging with affection as he watches her eyes fall completely shut at last with another cute, tired yawn.

The two of them retreat from her sleeping figure quietly, Changbin swooping in for a kiss the minute they're outside, Hyunjin giving in to it gladly as he hums in a surging happiness. The swathing sky turns darker still as they make their way back outside into the garden, the sound of peaceful chatter chirping along pleasantly to the faint chiming of cicadas.

The air paints itself a mellow, caressing swell of exuding heat, the fire crackling magnetically as tawny sparks glisten through the lack of light, faces illuminated by hues of a joyous fulfilment. Hyunjin rests his head blissfully upon Changbin's shoulder as he speaks in steady words throughout the stretch of grass, chest calm, relaxed as his eyes flicker upward to glance into his face.

They've come a long way, Changbin says, from the juvenile, foolish daydreams they'd indulged in during smoke breaks all those years ago. Not only physically, their studio standing firm and in all its glory as it continues to unravel with great ideas three years later, but mentally too. Spiritually.

Hyunjin can tell by the wave of emotion that streaks across the faces watching, how truly important such a statement rings true, the hope of change, the reliability, the peace that comes with it - that shedding of the old self which had really been but an obscuring mask after all, shielding the true, vibrant core from all its potential.

Hyunjin's heart thrums contentedly as he listens, Chan, Jisung and Changbin taking turns in telling different stories, the struggles, the achievements, the classic tale of a humble success and yet Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever heard such a common story as plainly as right there and then, the sound echoing in ringing bells throughout his ear, slithering, planting itself fixedly in his mind.

Deep down in what has become a sudden, clearly-presented uprooting of himself, Hyunjin recognizes the winding roads in which he'd taken, the path sloping a lot more dizzyingly as its gravel turned smoother; easier upon the stumbling soles of his feet.

Back aching as it lies stickily to unclean sheets, peeling cries of a brothel-wallpaper, hard, sharp stabs to his head as he lets his bones be flung to the floor - his eyes turn a strange, delicate sheet of mist, his flame-painted reflection unrecognizable now despite the way his hands still yearn to reach out and touch the fire.

Perhaps in a way he'd completed his metamorphosis unbound by stage lights, that twisting and turning of him, Hyunjin, not the Tiger Lily, as he'd chipped away the hardened coat of his flesh and spotted himself instead with the vibrant, eye-catching yellow patterns of the Swallowtail.

Trapped by the enticing shell of his cocoon had he lied there night after night, slithering men turning faceless in the throe of his own murdering mind and now- Hyunjin feels something hot and sharp lodged in his throat. Now there really was but one face engraved within the lofty weight of his own head, his wings at rest for once, unwilling to perch upon flowers of which he does not know the name.

And so even as the moon begins to rear her head and it becomes time to go back home - he repeats the word quietly and safely within the bounds of his own tongue - he fails to recognize its fullness despite the many days he'd spent sleepless beneath it.

Changbin carries Jia's sleeping, clutching body out into the car as he sits in the back with her, her head in his lap as he strokes her hair throughout the ride. Hyunjin can't help the way his eyes keep flitting back to them from the front, the acceptance, the allowance of their presence like a finely cut jewel for him to prickle against his flesh as he holds onto it tightly; protectively.

Sora seems to notice his fond stares from where she drives, her eventual goodbye a little softer, a little gentler than before.

As Jia nestles herself soundly within the comfort of her own sheets, Hyunjin's mind whirrs into a halt, flashing, grating visions of a time in which seemed almost a life ago tunneling through him like hot, vicious coals. And yet gratitude overcomes him, a deep, outreaching urge to take all of which lies stuffed and stifled within him and wringing it right out of him taking over, bloodied guts eager to breathe and be dissected.

Changbin gives him devoted, caring glances as the two of them strip innocently into something more comfortable, the softness of Changbin's bed like a web to entrap him with, wide and spindly as it wraps its way around his limbs.

Changbin stares at him gently, that familiar look in which never fails to let the pulse within him flutter back to life. He wants, no, needs that aching spillage, to extract away a part of himself the way Changbin had done to him, falling into that cursed yet glimmering burrow of trust.

"You've come along way," he whispers, the lack of light shrouding Changbin's face in mysticism. "You should be proud of yourself."

"Thank you." Hyunjin understands then how unequivocally, genuinely Changbin means it. "So have you."

"Yeah," he breathes out, a sharp wave of nausea overcoming him. He has to tell him, has to chip away the edge of that faulty wing so it can grow back better again; new, beautiful. Someone else.

"I ran away from home when I was seventeen," he mutters, each string of exhalation pounding erratically through the air. His fingers fumble nervously with the hem of his oversized shirt as he glances anxiously up at Changbin. "I packed my bags, took the night bus to Phoenix and never looked back."

Changbin says nothing for a while, Hyunjin swallowing harshly as an unreadable, almost distant expression flits itself across his face. "Wow," he breathes out, the hold around his waist tightening protectively. Unknowingly, Hyunjin sinks into it. "That sounds...terrifying."

He bites his lip painfully then, stomach clenching and unclenching as he decides to let his newfound reflection tug him along. "I couldn't stay in that house any longer, I just...I just couldn't," he whispers, heart hammering wildly at the awakening memory. He needs his splintered wing to come tumbling right off. "I knew anywhere was better than that shithole. Even if it meant I had to live on the streets."

"You were homeless?" Changbin gazes down at him with nothing but sheer, glassy awe, a tint of sadness streaked within there too as Hyunjin tries not to let himself falter.

"For a while, yeah," he breathes out, a small smile spilling across his lips as he detaches the memory away. "I used to street dance for money."

Changbin's face lights up that, eyes widening in astonishment. "No way."

"Oh yes," Hyunjin giggles, lifting himself up slightly so at to properly peer down at him, finger trailing along his chest soothingly. "I had these wide, flowy pants, a shirt that I tied at my waist and I'd twirl around barefoot with a tambourine."

"A tambourine?" Changbin perches himself up on his elbows, expression spinning with a flaring disbelief. "You had a tambourine?!"

"Yes." For a second he thinks he can almost hear the rhythmic, chiming of its bells as it pulsated along with his twirling, dancing feet. "And a purple scarf and a fan."

"Oh my god, I need to see this."

"I was pretty good actually," Hyunjin grins. "I always had large crowds watching."

"I'm sure you did," Changbin smiles, ribbons of amazement enveloping him whole. "I mean, you spinning around with flowy pants and a tambourine? I'd pay to see that too. That sounds amazing."

His fingers press down teasingly against his chest, eyes curving playfully. "That's when I got my belly button pierced too, you know."

Changbin's eyes widen substantially then, Hyunjin unable once more to stop the giggles that string their way out of his throat. "You're killing me with these visuals. I actually need to see this now, like this is becoming a grave concern for my health. Please recreate this."

"Maybe," he laughs, quirking an eyebrow upward. "Find me a tambourine and I'll show you the dance."

Changbin perks up immediately, body buzzing as if ready to go as Hyunjin promptly pushes him back down onto the bed again, grin wide and pleasant as it graces him in flutters. "Not right now."

Changbin smiles good-naturedly as he lets Hyunjin settle him back into place, swinging an arm behind his head as he stares at him earnestly, the bedside light painting his face in a charming, dandelion glow. "So what happened after that?"

Hyunjin's stomach seizes in on itself as before, chest littered with a cluster of swinging, puncturing nerves. For a second he considers saying nothing, feigning a sudden urge to go to sleep and perhaps running away as soon as morning strikes, a gnawing fear burning at the back of his head as he lets it fester. "I um...I stopped after a while."

His eyes flit down to his hands immediately, fingers wringing each other in apprehension as he tries not to let the acid within his throat blister his tongue. "The other street performers were getting hostile, they stole some of my shit and uh, police kept harassing me for dancing without a permit."

He laughs then, the sound hollow and humorless as it echoes throughout the room. "It was all bullshit but it's not like anybody was standing up for me. I was still homeless and I missed having a roof over my head and clean water. You know how I am with germs and stuff... "

His exhales turn shaky then, eyes blinking rapidly as the memories disentangle themselves from his brain and come swirling toward him with a rapid, vicious speed. "It was really difficult during that time. I never felt clean, like ever. And then one day this...this woman approached me and offered me a place to stay if I worked for her."

The inside of his mouth scorches as he speaks, lips tying themselves shut as he lets the bitterness overspill inside, each indent and ridge of his tongue breaking apart into spineless, discarded cinders.

"What kind of work?" Changbin's words echo hauntingly within his ear, his own ability to speak having rendered itself slaughtered in the sudden wake of a soiled, dirtied truth.

His lower lip trembles, eyes overcast with a murky, bleeding fog as he tries to blink it away, a heavy, punching sound ripping apart his guts as whatever implication of noiselessness he'd created reaches its way to understanding in Changbin's mind.

"Oh."

Hyunjin's hand quivers, flashing, drooping colors searing their way into his vision as he refuses to look Changbin in the eye. "I know it's...disgusting." Choppy, tear-stricken, his voice tumbles ungracefully throughout the air. "I was pretty desperate you know?"

His legs feel sticky against the sheets, heart clammy and nose aching in the lack of anything to burn it with. "And um, she gave me food and water and I mean I don't have any diseases if that's what you're worried about-"

"Hyunjin, hey, I'm not worried about that," Changbin cuts him off gently, shifting from his position on the bed so as to properly look at him, Hyunjin's face unable to tear away at the fond, fathomless light that smoothens itself across the man before him. "I don't...I don't think of you any differently, I hope you don't think that." Guilt throttles its way into his throat, eyes wet and salted as they try desperately not to drip. "It doesn't change anything. I'm just glad you're opening up to me."

How could he have thought that even for a moment Changbin would regard him as anything different, honed of nothing but goodness and clear, simple kindness. Still fear rattles deeply within him, darkened, murky slivers of something painfully sweet lingering within. Changbin brushes a soft hand across his cheek, eyes gentle and glistening.

"I mean, all that matters to me is that you're okay." He can't know, he decides there and then, the thought jabbing at him so viciously his body falls into a shudder. Changbin can't ever know. "I know a job like that isn't exactly a walk in the park so...if you want to talk about it, then I'm here. I'll listen. I'll always listen to you."

Gratitude caresses him suddenly, eyes wide and blinking as he whispers hollowly throughout the night. "I uh, I don't think I want to talk about it. I try not to think of it too much...I worked there for almost a year until one of my um, clients, offered me a job at his strip club." It's much better to push it all far, far away.

Unwillingly his fingers twitch, tapping against his arm in careful, dizzying lines. "So yeah...the rest is history I guess." One. Two. Three. "I just...I kind of thought about it tonight when you...," onetwothree, onetwothree, "well when you talked about change and all that. The person I was back then wouldn't be able to recognize who I am now."

Changbin holds his face so delicately then, eyes skimming across it as if searching for years and years of a thoroughly buried treasure. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin smiles, a surge of desire striking within him as he lets the mellow curves of Changbin's face crease his soul addictingly. "Yeah, it is."

Gently, slowly, Hyunjin takes from their kiss as if desperate to fill his senses with anything but thought, body whirring, humming in the need, the ache to simply feel, feel, feel, his limbs pliant and yet eager all the same as Changbin molds them to his will.

Burning, feverish, Hyunjin climbs his way into his lap, mouth still attached desperately to the one below him as he lets the rhythm of their bodies cloud his head to pearly, glimmering dust. He can tell by the steady firmness in which Changbin holds him that desire is anything but carnal, a deep rifted string straight from the soul instead as Hyunjin pants, fingers grabbing eagerly at the hem of Changbin's shirt in order to lift in up and toss it somewhere away.

Blood gushes to his ears as Changbin latches himself onto his neck, the sound pulsating and throbbing through his skull as he lets the sweet, sugary sensations of letting a man he trusts plunge deep into his tattered, ragdoll heart, his mind swimming in elation as it carries itself away, his brain floating deliciously in the best kind of high, high, high-

Changbin freezes instantly, the sound of the door creaking open stilling them both in shock before he suddenly flings Hyunjin lightly off of his lap, scrambling desperately for his discarded shirt on the floor as Hyunjin all but stares wide eyed into the ceiling.

The muffled sound of Jia crying becomes clearer and clearer as the pounding of his heart eventually settles down, head still scrambled in the shock of being thrown back into the mattress as he sits up straight.

Thankfully Jia seems too wrapped up into her own overflowing emotions to have picked up on anything, eyes streaming with tears as Changbin gently lifts her into the bed, her hands clutching onto his shirt immediately.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" He whispers soothingly, stroking her hair as Jia continues to sniffle.

"Had a n-nightmare," she cries, hands rubbing furiously at her eyes as Hyunjin watches right next to him with a yearning need to reach out, his stomach pooling in sadness.

"Come here." Changbin coaxes her into his lap as he places her head upon his chest, Jia's cries creaking in sudden bursts of tears. "Shh, it's okay. It was just a dream," Changbin whispers, caressing her hair comfortingly. "You're safe, I'm not gonna let anything hurt you. You know that."

Jia sniffles quietly then, eyes blinking profusely as Changbin looks down at her with caring, tender eyes. "Do you want to tell me what your dream was about?"

"A monster," Jia sobs, burying her face into his chest as her tiny body trembles. Hyunjin's heart splinters. "And it was chasing me."

"That sounds scary, but there's no monster, yeah?" Changbin assures her, Hyunjin's breathing settling still from the sudden switch in wallpaper-bound emotions. "No monster. You're okay. I'm always gonna protect you from monsters."

Jia calms down eventually into small, quivering sniffles, sitting up straight in his lap as she tries adamantly to blink her tears away. With a deep, grumbling desire to smoothen out the glassy furrows of her face, an idea tugs within him suddenly, stretching its way out of his mouth before he has a chance to hold it back.

Really he knows nothing about children, how they're supposed to feel, to react, to learn gradually about the world around them and yet a strange instinctive sensation pulls him closer, a small smile flitting across his face.

"You know what always helps me when I'm feeling scared?" He whispers, Jia looking up at him curiously then, her eyes watery still. "I distract myself." She sniffles, leaning closer into him subconsciously. Hyunjin's smile softens. "Do you want me to braid your hair?"

Cries almost watered down to mere remnants of fear, Jia nods, shifting over quietly in front of his lap as Hyunjin straightens up, his hands brushing through her hair as he parts them gently. "You know, I like to think that distractions are good because they help me forget things."

Carefully he gathers her hair into two groups of three, weaving each braid together as he feels Jia fall into a settling sense of stillness. "But they're kind of like band-aids. They help you when you're hurt, but it doesn't make the bruise go away." Even with his eyes focused intently on her hair, does he feel the warming gaze of Changbin brush itself right through him.

Hyunjin smiles, something deep within coming undone in the hushed gloom of a tear-stained night. "And someone very wise told me once that it's better to talk about your feelings than to pretend like they're not there, because otherwise you might explode."

Jia smiles weakly then, her voice streaked with hues of a subtle pride. "That was me."

"That was you," Hyunjin confirms, his heart falling into a steady rhythm. "So do you want to tell me how you feel?"

Jia nods then, a sudden tremble coursing through her. "I was scared because...the monster was scary." She sniffles, a quick hand coming to wipe across her cheek. "It was big and ugly and...and it wanted to take me and I had to run really fast."

"Dreams can be scary," Hyunjin soothes, a sudden pain jabbing within as he pushes his thoughts sharply away. He doesn't have time for his own withering mind, not now, not with a child unraveling itself in silent tears in front of him. "It's crazy what our own heads are able to think of."

"But it wasn't real," Jia whispers, almost as if to reassure herself. Changbin shifts closer to him then, his shoulder brushing against his own as Hyunjin shoots him a warm smile.

"No...the monster wasn't," he breathes out, tying the first braid with the hair band wrapped around Jia's wrist. "But your thoughts are still real and it's okay to be scared of them. Our feelings come to us because we need them, not because they're bad."

In need of a new one, Changbin reaches out for his nightstand and finds it easily, Hyunjin completing the other braid as soon as he gives it to him, satisfied by his work. "It's better to be scared or sad when you are and then let them go when you realize that you no longer need them anymore."

Jia turns around then, eyes wide and glassy as she blinks up at him. "How can I let them go?"

"When you're ready, you wave them bye-bye." He smiles, lifting up his hand in a little wave. "Like this." Jia stares at him curiously, gaze settling with ease. "Do you think you're ready? It's okay if you're not."

"How do I know if I'm ready?" She asks, fingers coming up to absentmindedly stroke her new braids.

Hyunjin's eyes soften, a kind smile gracing his lips. "Just listen to your heart. Do you still feel scared?"

"A little bit," Jia admits, voice hushed as if not wanting it to be true. "But I don't want to anymore."

"So wave goodbye," Hyunjin encourages.

"Bye-bye," Jia whispers, waving her hand endearingly as Hyunjin's heart swells, Changbin leaning in to his side and kissing the top of his head fondly, overcome he thinks, by the same wave of emotion that spiraled its way straight into his own chest.

Her tiny body slumps itself in between them then, face speckled with the oncoming waves of tiredness once more as a soft yawn escapes her. Changbin touches her nose playfully as she scrunches it up, eyelids closing after a while as she lets herself sink into dreamscape once more, the farewell of her fear having rendered her poised and relax, childlike innocence weaving its way right into her.

Hyunjin wonders for a second how such a thing could be, his head lulling heavily upon the pillow as Changbin kisses him good night - that coming and going of such a root-steadied thing as the snowiness of purity. Could its existence really be ephemeral, landing peacefully as it may before fluttering off to somewhere in the distance?

His eyes turn dense as they soak themselves in blackness, what would normally be his witching hour any other day carrying within it nothing but a deep-seated need for rest. For a quiet, peaceful stretch of grass to properly tear off his wing.

The three of them fall asleep then, slowly, safely, planted within the sheets as if unfolding themselves in petals from the same, shared stem - one, two, three, he thinks. Maybe it's not such a bad number after all.

Notes:

finally a happy chapter 🥺😫 he deserved some joy, finally being a part of friendships and family without having the time to dissect it apart and feeling guilty. slowly but surely he’s weaving his way into changbin’s life as a permanent figure, opening up and not being afraid of taking charge.

 

and for everyone waiting for chanlix LMAO finally some crumbs to enjoy 😘 hehe

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 17: Tarantula

Sundays bring with them the irony of holy weavings - wrapped in lace, frilly garters, long, floral-embroidered veils to cast his vision in white disarray. Beneath the inky, shadow-slivered light wreathing around him, does he unravel spotless limbs upon the pillar of steel as if pulling apart each string within.

The lace of his gauzy shorts tug down along with an aching need for his skin to breathe, pearly underwear like threads of fragile cobweb to wrap around his hips - the silvery, finespun suffocation of something bridal. Hyunjin knows he looks ethereal like this, snowy, porcelain enchantment of white that all but shimmers upon the stage as if carved from the softest, most breakable marble, him, that spinning music box ballerina with the sharpness of salt running down his eyes.

In the mirror, beyond the leering teeth of his watchers, Hyunjin's skin remains terribly barren of any wounds, his fingers skimming the gentleness of the lace around him as if grounded by its fragileness.

The spillage of his mind scuttles along the powdery pleats of his corset as if desperately on the run, tissue drooping, drooping, drooping as Hyunjin refuses to let himself tilt over, the china of his flesh far too delicate for the ridges of such floorboards. With the absence of that familiar face to anchor him with, Hyunjin breathes in the heavy plumes and dizzying perfume of tonight's Tiger Lily with all the sway of his lungs; wholly, weeping.

He knows the glamour of being tear-stained weaves in perfectly with the way his wings unfold, that lily-white showcase of a bridal boudoir, perfect and destructible, the ripest fruit awaiting its decay. And so he'd let his cries flow from within him unbound by guilt, body trembling, weak - a mere reflection of that flimsy fabric shrouding him in beauty, unknowing really, of what it is that had allowed them to spill.

Perhaps it was just the instability of his mind, that constant craving of those enchanting white lines that would all but disappear in the sight against the pearly-hues of his lace or maybe it had more to do with the fact that he'd go home to his own apartment as soon as he was finished, doomed to fall into the sinkhole of his own withering head.

Perhaps it was nothing of the sort, maybe a deep rift within him had finally started leaking and so he'd all but wiped them gently away, knowing well that the glossiness of his eyes made him all the more divine with each discarding of fabric upon that godless stage.

And thankfully, he thinks, lace is easy enough to tear apart with the force of his fingers and so he hardly thinks of it the next day, body free and clad in a light, yielding denim as he revels in the momentary promise of a night unrestrained by heavy, intoxicating smoke.

Knee-deep and scrubbing, his body feels heavy as his jacket drapes around him, thick, tattered fabric pulling him down, down, down as he all but yields to the streaming poison of his mind. His routine has become longer, showers more sweltering, mind tumbling with blisters as it all but spins him around, his limbs being pulled by invisible strings above him.

Relief overcomes him only through the allowance of the light that Changbin and Jia carry with them, the sun cascading above their heads like glorias to guide him by, Hyunjin leaning into the steady rhythm of a night spent three-leafed through both the counting clock in his head and the trinity of family. The word feels both like sandpaper and sugar upon his tongue, addicting yet scratchy as he lets it scrape against the roof of his mouth.

He revels in the lightheartedness of dinner and yet that night, denim stretching itself longer and longer until washed up patterns begin to fade across, he indulges for a moment in the screaming ache in his head and promptly washes the dishes, scrubbing the kitchen clean as Changbin all but lets him with a strange, almost fearful glimmer in his eye.

He doesn't need to, he tells him, their kitchen is already clean and Hyunjin just laughs it away, fingers twitching as his leg begins to bounce and so Changbin promptly lets him do his thing. Still his smile spills itself easily across his face as he reads Jia a story before bed, he and Changbin taking turns with each page as Jia scrunches up in sleepy giggles every so often.

Sleep barrels through him once again, dreams vivid and yet outreaching as he lets his body succumb to the mattress-induced stillness and yet he remembers nothing of its intensity the moment he wakes up.

Groggy, tired, the familiar woven threads of a comfortable, steady cotton cloaks his body that stumbling Tuesday, his limbs carving themselves weary and exhausted in a way that's anything but foreign. Restlessly, he follows the throes of his mind along with Felix to another NA meeting, his second one and yet the words and enlightenment pass through him as if nothing but a chip in the fleeting, freezing wind.

Denial. Control. Duncan's preaching jabs strike him from the rickety plastic of his chair as he nods along unwillingly, speaking slowly and unsurely as he sits there uncomfortable.

In a way he thinks his stomach squeezes itself tighter in the recognition of wanting to better himself, of taking each nod of the head and word of encouragement seriously, Jia and Changbin's faces flashing through his head each time he pinches the skin of his forearm.

A part of him thinks he's doing good, at least as good as he could have hoped to, nose unclogged from the rhapsody of cocaine night after night upon the stage, mind seeping instead with the obsessive, all-consuming talons of his thoughts.

His skin feels warm that day, hot and comfortable against the snugness of his shirt, the plainness of the cotton something to cling onto, sticking to his body as if merely a part of his flesh. He spends the day at his own apartment then, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing as his mind stills to a comfortable ease, grateful for the momentary lapse in static as he thoroughly completes the slopes of his clovers.

He feels relieved as he goes to bed that night, the pleasantness of his cotton slithering along the ease, the familiarity of his mind. He needs it, he thinks, is grateful for that three-leafed clover to settle him to dust when the cogs in his head begin to break, leans into it as if clutching onto nothing else.

In a way his days stray even further from the night, their contrast clear and burning as he sheds his mortal skin the second he lets the glimmering walls of the club enfold from around him, body molding and twisting as it becomes, at last, that bejeweled, all-knowing Tiger Lily on the stage.

This night the string of diamonds cascading around his limbs drip out as if heavy and weighing him down, down, down, the easygoing, coy smile on his face a pretty lie from the density of his own tilting flesh. At least he looks good, magnetic, iridescent, the satin fabric wrapped seductively around his thighs and torso as the jewels attached flow elegantly down, creating the illusion of luxury - the silhouette of a gem-weeping bikini.

Tiger Lily soaks up all the attention greedily then, laughing and smirking as his limbs stretch pleasantly, his watchers just as enraptured, just as spellbound as always. He thinks momentarily to when he'd spin around flowy-legged and barefoot on the streets, each cast of his eye and tug of his lips scalding their way into the concrete along with the weight of the sun.

His diamonds feel heavy that night, spilling their way down his leg as if having been gutted straight out of him, his mind nothing but a pillar of smoke as soon as he gets home, falling to sleep with all the lead of his bones. At least he had cast his little spell, at least he had not gone home empty-handed.

Cleopatra's, as he'd always known, became hardened and sprouted with jangly roots every now and then, his costume the next evening tight and stretching against his skin as if merely a part of it. He'd spent the entire day cleaning, his body raw and scrubbed until blood had started seeping straight out him, eyes burning with the fresh onslaught of rage-tinted tears as he all but stared dismally into the drain, the swirling redness evaporating into the water.

Changbin had asked him to meet him after work then, to pick up Jia. Maybe even grab a bite somewhere outside. He couldn't. He couldn't. He had things to clean, flesh to tear apart.

Now, black leather gritty and hard as it shrouds itself around his entire body, he lets his anger begin to trickle. Anger at who, he isn't quite sure, at himself, at his cursed, cursed head for never being able to let go of such silly, such ridiculous little habits that only strike him tirelessly day after day and so he cracks the whip in his hand with all the force he can muster, watchers captivated from the resilience of his catsuit, the Tiger Lily feral and vicious as he stretches upon the stage.

The leather feels thick as he brushes his hands down his body, limbs trapped in a cage as the watchers peer up at him from down below, not allowed to touch, not allowed to touch. Hyunjin smirks, dangling his foot out between the bars and egging them on, that desperate glint in their eyes like feed to his starved, hungry mind.

He catches sight of Changbin then, face shadowed from the lack of light as he stands there rigid and attentive in the corner, the muscles of his jaw clenching every few seconds in something he fails to understand.

Still Hyunjin continues eagerly to play his little game, cat and mouse, drawing and stretching his long limbs around as if carrying within him all the allure of a prowling feline, teeth salivating and hardened as he bites down harshly upon the whip in his mouth.

A man loses it eventually, reaching out and brushing up the side of his boot as he sticks it out, Changbin escorting him out immediately. Hyunjin only smirks, the deep-seated anger within him floating away as the night descends into an illuminated darkness.

As Changbin takes him home that day he falls into the rapture of his kisses impatiently, breathless by the time the softness of the mattress creases his back, greedy, greedy, greedy as he succumbs into such pleasant unraveling of his own flesh.

Fridays are for ice cream, body sore as he wakes up to a tumbling sun. Yes he knows this by now and yet Fridays are for a lot of different things as well, the dull, helpless pooling of saliva in his mouth as he all but stares numbly into his wall, the pounding, skin-prickling fear that courses through him as he accidentally opens the wrong drawer, those wretched little legs of Lolita swaying idly by the wall as he all but slams it viciously shut.

He thinks of nothing that day, nothing, nothing, nothing. The ice cream tastes watery upon his tongue, the flavor scorching the roof of his mouth as his leg bounces restlessly, smile forced, lips ghostlike as he tries not to let the chattering joy of Jia catch onto the way he slowly begins to rot.

He remembers vaguely, something foggy and unbearable formulating in the back of his mind, the sweet taste of vanilla ice cream from years and years before, how happy he'd been, how excited. Acid blisters his throat. His birthday, he thinks. Twelve.

The day his mother's life had become ruined forever, she'd say each fateful day year after year. No presents, no cake, nothing, nothing, nothing. Hyunjin did not expect anything for his birthday, dreaded the day really as his mother never failed to remind him what a horrible day it was. There was never breakfast and lunch on his birthday. He had to choose one.

There was nothing special about that day, nothing special, nothing, nothing, nothing except that one time when his birdkeeper had picked him up from school and taken him to get ice cream and his eyes had lit up and his stomach had flooded and he'd gotten a present even, a present because he was a big boy now and-

Hyunjin practically runs to the club as soon as it's time for him to go, the horrid, repulsive taste in his mouth still burning him all around as he tries to forget. Forget, forget, forget. The past is littered with remnants of his own sullied skin, of dirt, of decay, of Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin.

Thankfully Hyunjin has no place within the walls of the Tiger Lily and so he drapes the cerulean silk of his fabric around his waist as it shimmers down his legs, shrouding itself like a flowy, mystical skirt to billow with each movement he makes, discarding the skin of his shadow somewhere to fester in the lack of light.

Dark, wavy hair, jewelry of the moon, the Tiger Lily transcends alluringly from the waters of a siren's cave as the sharpness of his eyes wields through the night. Changbin's mouth drops open the second he emerges from his dressing room, Hyunjin giggling as he playfully pushes him away, the silk airy and cool as he spins entrancingly down the pole.

He thinks of nothing that night, merely lets himself untangle as if born for the very loosening of his bones, twisting and turning as his watchers soak him up. Siren of the deep seas, caster of spells, the Tiger Lily hypnotizes each peering eye as the flossy, water-like ribbons of silk flourish between his legs.

He revels in the attention then, seeps it into him as if nurtured by nothing else, each private room and lap dance injecting energy straight into his veins as he laps up their compliments. He preens beneath their gazes, slipping through their fingers as they graze along his thigh, chest bursting at the seams through the high of his power, mind far away and painted by orange-spotted petals rather than the threeness of his clovers.

The next night, Hyunjin stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror for far too long, doll-like face mighty and elegant through the cat-drawn eyeliner honing their cutthroat shape, a thin, golden headpiece cascading down his hair in chains, an illusion to the gild-plated rhinestones of Ancient Egypt.

His tanned limbs twist themselves with luxurious serpentine arm cuffs, ankles glimmering with turquoise-beaded bracelets as a draping, black chiffon flows from his hips as if a loincloth, the gold coined waistline low and sultry from where it hangs as his legs show off on each side.

He hardly recognizes himself then - luxurious, expensive, shimmering ringlets drooping over his shoulders as his fingers gleam with ancient rings. Beetles, ankhs, a turquoise lotus. His belly button glints alluringly along with the rest of the bejeweled splendor, a vision of royalty, a momentary echo of Cleopatra, high and mighty. Everything Hyunjin is not.

He glares at himself then, eyes brimming with the slaughter of his own skin as the Tiger Lily takes place instead, his clenching gut determined to carry within him all the confidence and poise of someone he doesn't know.

But what he does know, above all else, is how to tell a story, how to spin himself magnetic and bewitching as he coils and circles his hips upon the stage, leaning down with a playful, teasing grin as he contentedly collects his tips.

Changbin keeps watching him then, he can tell from the corner of his eye each time he twists himself in his direction, can almost feel the burning of his gaze imprint itself right into him.

His main stage had been more than successful, hips twisting and whirling to the sultry rhythm of the beat as he became, for one short-lived immortal moment, the ancient glory of Cleopatra before her death, body envigored with passion and mystery as he unraveled himself upon the stage.

Jinyoung had been wanting to get an actual snake for the performance, a boa he'd insisted, but still hadn't gotten the permit yet. Hyunjin had only rolled his eyes and yet now, draped in the golden mysticism of the past, he thinks a snake would be more than fitting, the last puzzle piece to complete his regal vision.

Hyunjin smirks as he slinks down from the pole, head held high as he makes his way down from one of the smaller stages and into the plush couches surrounding it, satisfaction slithering into his gut from his performances before he suddenly feels a sharp tug at his arm.

Craning his neck around, Hyunjin spots the glimmering look of the man who'd stopped him, fingers wrapped around his wrist as Hyunjin gives him a smirk and sinks down next to him, body tilting in toward him as he bats his eyes coyly.

He's older, sturdy, carefully styled hair to match the masculinity of his face - it's clear his demanding little watcher is anything but short of cash, clad in an expensive suit and a gleaming watch, face sloped into a cocky expression as he leans in to whisper, an addicting woody scent of cologne slithering around them.

"Not so fast little birdie." His breath drips with spices of whiskey, his hand coming to wrap itself around his thigh.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow teasingly, his patrons not supposed to touch him really but he supposes the rules had always been slightly blurred, especially for customers like him. Confident. High-handed. Used to be in charge. The unfaltering manner in which he speaks sends small, needle-like shivers down his spine. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere now," he purrs, eyes glinting magnetically as his gaze sears itself right into him, the petals of the Tiger Lily outstretching pleasantly.

He can feel the attentive stare of Changbin somewhere nearby, the dark purple hues of the lighting above warping his attention into lilac phantoms as he leans his body into Mr. Rich's side, careful to tilt his neck just enough for the shimmers above to cascade alluringly down his collarbones.

"Where'd a pretty thing like you learn to dance like that, huh?" His watcher regards him with an arrogant, desirous beam in his eye as his hand grips around his thigh immediately. Hyunjin grins. His favorite kind.

"Mm, I've always been quite flexible." He drinks in his victim's hunger eagerly, face flashing a coy, radiant smile as he slithers his way into his lap, legs crossed over each other on one side as his hands drag up his chest slowly. Hyunjin tilts his head, a smirk dancing across him. "Why, you want to take some lessons?"

Mr. Rich amuses him then, lips curving upward as he plays along, fingers skimming lightly along his waist as if holding back from giving in and simply taking what he wants. "Oh I don't know about that, my muscles are very strained."

"Mm I can tell." Hyunjin loves playing games, especially ones he wins so easily, hands snaking up to dig pleasantly into his shoulders, body preening as he leans in to whisper closely in his ear.

"You need to loosen up." His breath ghosts in remnants of mint beneath the shell of his ear, Mr. Rich stringing himself rigid and tight from the closeness of his mouth, his bones slumping in a buzzing relaxation as soon as Hyunjin retreats.

Smirking, he revels in the simplicity of such finely-tailored businessmen, their pride and guts easy to spin around and bend with the slightest touch of his finger, hands kneading enticingly into his skin as he massages the shoulders of his attentive little watcher, stomach coiling and thrumming with power.

"Dancer, masseuse..." Mr. Rich gives him a bold, self-important smile as Hyunjin continues to rub soothingly into the crisp white cotton of an undoubtedly expensive shirt. "You're quite something aren't you?"

He looks him coarsely up and down, eyes lighting up with flames of impurity before they eventually drag themselves back up to his face, hand gripping tightly around thigh. "And with a body like that...you could be a model you know."

"Mm you think so?" Hyunjin grins, the compliment burning thrillingly in the pits of his stomach. It's nothing he hasn't heard before, a tame flattery really and yet there's something irresistible in the way it exhales itself from his mouth, cologne like smokes of musk and orange to drown out everything else. "You're not the first guy to tell me that."

Mr. Rich gives him a charming smile, the hand on his thigh sliding further up as his other hand grips tightly around his waist, fingers fiddling with the airy chiffon of his skirt. "Then you know it's true. That face belongs on billboards baby."

Hyunjin's gut curls, a satisfied, almost proud sensation thrumming through him in the luxurious, regal jewels that make his petals glisten so enchantingly, beauty masked in the darkness of plum-shaded lights. "But then I wouldn't be sitting here with you, would I?"

The man laughs amusedly, the expensive watch around his wrist flickering momentarily as his hand slides further up, fingers digging into the skin of his inner thigh as his thumb strokes tantalizingly back and forth. "No, you'd be on my yacht instead sipping champagne."

"Your yacht, huh?" Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, his gaze diverting briefly down to Mr. Rich's wandering hand, impressed almost by the firm certainness in which he moves. "And what would happen there exactly?"

"I think you could put your dancing skills to use," he says, voice low and playful as Hyunjin leans in, fingers dancing along his collar. "You're good at spreading your legs aren't you?"

Hyunjin grins at that, eyes glinting playfully as he feels the hand on his waist snake itself downward, fingers grazing along his ass teasingly. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Something inflamed and hypnotizing crackles to life in Mr. Rich's gaze, his hand squeezing his behind tightly as he opens his mouth, the sudden harshly honed words of someone else cutting him off abruptly.

"You're not supposed to touch him like that."

Hyunjin looks up from his lap immediately, Changbin's rigidly cut expression practically burning holes right into Mr. Rich from where he's made his way next to him, his watcher only waving his warning off dismissively as Hyunjin frowns.

Confusion seeps into him, small seeds of irritation as well from how intently Changbin keeps staring at them and yet despite Mr. Rich retreating his hand from his ass, his grip remains firmly intact upon on his thigh, fingers dancing further and further up until they start digging beneath his skirt.

"Forget modeling, you should be a porn star," he says, paying no mind to the bodyguard right next to him, his words hardly registering in Hyunjin's ears from how thrown off he suddenly feels. Mr. Rich's hand continues to graze along his skin, hand slithering all the way up to the laced hem of his underwear. "Those lips were made for-"

"Hey, what did I just say?" Changbin's words slice through the air heavily then, eyebrows furrowed in brewing kernels of fury beneath the darkened hues of lilac above, Hyunjin's stomach plummeting from the sudden tenseness that swivels through the air between them.

His client turns to face him angrily, standing up abruptly as Hyunjin is forced out of his lap, stumbling slightly with a tiny yelp before straightening up, his stomach hardening in a brewing irritation.

"Calm down, jeez." The man scoffs, an incredulous laughter slipping out of his throat as he stares an increasingly livid Changbin in the face. "This a strip club, isn't it?"

Changbin's jaw clicks, arms crossing each other as his muscles bugle menacingly, each word sharply and confidently uttered as Hyunjin all but stares. "That doesn't give you free right to grope away. Either you can respect the rules of the club or you can leave."

He doesn't understand what's going on, why Changbin is suddenly intervening in such a displeased manner, his entire face wielded of nothing but a rumbling anger Hyunjin thinks he's only been able to recognize once before.

It seemed so long ago now, the blood splattered floorboards of his apartment seeping through his memory like ice in his veins, that look on his face spilling through it all the rage it carried toward his stalker, unrestrained, outstretching vines of wildfire.

Hyunjin's gut litters itself with nerves, Mr. Rich turning over to him with that low, charming grin on his face, accustomed no doubt, to always getting his way. "You don't mind, do you baby?"

Hyunjin gives Changbin a quick, ice-wielding glare before slipping his face into a demure smile, leaning in to Mr. Rich's side as he immediately sneaks an arm around his waist. The muscles in Changbin's jaw click irritably.

"Of course not," he purrs, flashing his teeth radiantly as he tries not to let them grit, something rough and burning pulsating within his chest as he forces it down.

"See?" Mr. Rich sends Changbin a self-satisfied grin before turning back to look at him, eyes flashing with gluttony as Hyunjin sees himself reflected within them. "He's fine."

He hardly has time to react to the swift, vulgar smack that lands firmly on his ass before his stomach plummets, Changbin's eyes scorching with fury as the man's hand gropes around his behind freely. Hyunjin's eye twitches, face still smiling charmingly as he tries not to slap his hand away. Fucking hell.

It seems, as he far too quickly comes to find out, that he has no need to slap anything away at all as Changbin's gaze flashes with rage, the speedy motion of his fist barreling forward before anyone has the slightest chance to react.

Hyunjin gasps as the punch lands right in Mr. Rich face, stumbling back as his heart starts hammering viciously, people around them turning to stare in avid interest as his client curses loudly.

Hyunjin stares wide-eyed at Changbin then, incredulity clenching through his stomach as he all but breathes heavily, too immersed in his own anger to notice the scowl carving itself across Hyunjin's face.

Last time he had seen Changbin's fist thrust itself toward someone else, there had been nothing to force its way back and yet now, heart beating wildly in his ribcage, Hyunjin is quite sure that Mr. Rich, unlike his stalker, isn't afraid of throwing back a punch or two.

Hyunjin hates it when he's right. The fist of his client comes stumbling back angrily, Changbin dodging it successfully before landing another punch in his face, Hyunjin gaping breathlessly as he spins around wildly, unsure really of what he's looking for. Where the fuck is Jinyoung?! Or any of the other bodyguards?!

Everyone's staring, both Changbin and Mr. Rich firmly thrown into a fight by now, a harsh blow landing against Changbin's jaw as his instict finally kicks in, Hyunjin reaching out desperately as he tries to pull them apart.

"Stop it!" He shouts, a nauseating mixture of fear and rage propelling his body forward, neither of them listening to a word he says as they continue to curse each other to death, punch after punch landing on each other as they tangle themselves back and forth in some strange, show of aggression - frankly Hyunjin has no idea how fights work despite all the ones he'd skillfully avoided when living on the streets but that burning, fury-bound look in Changbin's eye sends ice flooding straight through his veins.

He hates that look, detests the way his insides scream with things he doesn't understand - fear, concern, guilt. Hot, red-blooded anger.

His attempts at stopping the fight remain futile, his words drowned out by the two of them hitting each other as the other watchers start egging them on, a small circle forming around them as Hyunjin looks around helplessly.

Panic starts to seize him at the horrid way in which Mr. Rich's eye bulges, the skin bruised as blood trickles from his mouth, Changbin's jaw just as sullied in blemishes as he forcefully knocks his client down in one swift, harsh hitting punch.

Hyunjin gasps, hand covering his mouth as his heart beats wildly, Mr. Rich managing to stand up before Changbin reaches him as he barrels toward him.

"Stop it!" He screams, pushing himself forward as he tries once again to desperately intrude. "Changbin!"

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

Hyunjin hardly registers the angry words filtering their way as he manages to grab onto both of their shoulders, the two of them paying his presence absolutely no attention as they continue to fight, their abrupt, forceful movements causing him to stumble backward, knocking him down as he falls firmly onto the floor.

Hyunjin groans from the pain as he sees the fury-carved face of Jinyoung weave his way between them, yelling at them angrily to stop as he successfully manages to tear them apart along with another bodyguard.

His eyes flit over to him immediately then, jaw set viciously as he walks over and gently helps him up, Changbin seemingly noticing him for the first time since the fight, his anger threading itself with seeds of guilt as well.

"Are you okay?" Jinyoung asks, voice low and concerned as he supports him around the waist in order to stand up, Hyunjin nodding briskly as the fury in his chest starts to simmer painfully. He hardly registers what happens then, blood pounding through his ears as Mr. Rich starts yelling profanities in all directions, Jinyoung walking over to him as he starts to continuously apologize.

He shoots Changbin a deadly, lethal glare as he promptly instructs him to wait down in the corridor of private rooms, head tilting in Hyunjin's direction so as to signal to him as well.

Turning back to the client, Jinyoung carves his face into the polite, remorseful one of the professional businessman, escorting him out somewhere away from them as Hyunjin's chest bristles.

Without sparing Changbin a glance he walks firmly into the corridor away from everyone gawking at them, ignoring their owlish stares as he tries to smoothen out his appearance, his stomach squeezing tightly with each passing second.

As soon as he's away from the rest of the crowd, he spins around viciously, eyes bulging as his heart hammers, Changbin glancing at him with an unreadable expression from within the confines of the corridor.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He screams, face twisting in anger, disbelief coursing through him as he steps closer. "Why the fuck did you do that?!"

Something flashes in Changbin's eyes then, rage still alive and well as he strains himself not to give in to it. "He was touching you inappropriately-"

"Oh my god a man in a strip club felt up a stripper - someone call the Pope!" Hyunjin scoffs, fury so tight, so sizzling inside of him that he can hardly see clearly from how much his blood starts to pump. The fucking nerve. "I don't give a fuck if he crossed the line or not, that guy was fucking loaded! You just cost me a shit ton of money, you know that?!"

Changbin's jaw clenches, eyebrows furrowed angrily as his voice seethes with exasperation. "He had no respect for you or the rules put in place-"

"So you assaulted him?!" Hyunjin wants to fucking push him against the wall, fingers trembling as his arms flail about. "Are you fucking crazy?! I don't need you to fucking rescue me, especially not at work!"

Changbin's gaze glimmers with sudden spouts of rage, only inches between them as they glare into each other. "Well you certainly weren't going to, so someone had to step in!"

Hyunjin's heart stops, body going cold and quiet as a deadly, needle-like blue fire burns from within. A sudden sharp sense of betrayal strikes him inside, voice low and seething as he spits. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Changbin shakes his head, scoffing as if unable to believe his own words, the bruise on his jaw coloring itself ghastly beneath the amber light above. "That you let him do that shit, you should put up clearer boundaries and stand up for yourself so that they can't get away with-"

"What the actual fuck was that?!" The harsh sound of Jinyoung's voice carries throughout the corridor as he suddenly bursts through, eyes wide and bulging as they simmer with anger, his entire body rigid and frenzied as it propels itself toward Changbin, finger pointing accusingly his way. "Do you have any idea the shit we could get for that?! What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever seen Jinyoung this furious before, his own body shrinking in on itself rather nervously despite how determinedly he holds his head high, Changbin blinking rapidly as his mouth opens and closes continuously in shock.

He never gets the chance to say anything however, Jinyoung barreling himself in vicious feats of rage as the veins in his neck tighten madly. "He could have fucking sued us! He could've called the police! Assault is a felony, you know that?! I had to go out there, personally apologize and offer all sorts of shit to make sure he wouldn't. Luckily for you he seemed to accept or else I would've had you by the fucking neck! You know damn well you can't pull stunts like that at work!"

Jinyoung sighs, sending a rather pale-faced Changbin a sharp, menacing glare as Hyunjin's stomach squeezes anxiously. "If we weren't short on staff today, I'd be sending you home immediately!" He shakes his head, a humorless, almost maniacal sounding laughter bursting through his lips. "Fuck! We'll talk about this later."

Jinyoung turns to him sharply then, face carved back into one of steely, dead-set conviction. Hyunjin's back straightens up immediately. "Hyunjin, private room on the house, let's go, he's waiting. Be extra nice, do whatever he wants."

Changbin's eyes widen immediately, the color draining from his face as if sucker punched. "What-"

"Nothing sexual," Jinyoung shoots his way, voice harsh and intimidating as Hyunjin starts following him down to the end of the hallway. "Calm your fucking jealousy down now."

Hyunjin only sends him a sharp, threatening glare as he tries not to let the nearly petrified expression on Changbin's face start burrowing waves of guilt and sadness into him.

The unfurling anger only continues to grow as soon as he disappears behind the silver door to one of the private rooms, heart beating uncomfortably in his chest as he struggles not to slam it shut.

His smile twists itself back upon his face easily, breaths exhaling as if second-nature and though it all feels entirely too fake and forced, he holds his head high, determined not to let any cracks of Hyunjin slip through the Tiger Lily's petals.

Mr. Rich sits there with an odd, difficult to read expression, legs spread out on the plush velvet couch as the light turns a dark rosewood above, masking the bruises upon his skin as if there hadn't been anything there at all.

Thankfully for Hyunjin, his client seems not to direct his anger toward him, soaking up his attention instead with that same charming, confident grin from before as Hyunjin slinks his way beside him, hands playful and light with each touch he brings.

Still it feels anything but exhilarating, his stomach riddled in a nauseous, detached sensation as he does what he's asked, mind far away and blistered as he dances sultrily in front of him, hips swiveling down hypnotically as his belly ring gleams from the ruby-hued dark.

Mr. Rich's gaze remains firmly imprinted upon him throughout everything, Hyunjin's teeth catching his own lip as he bites down teasingly, hands dragging the medallion waistband of his chiffon skirt lower and lower until there's nothing but gold-embroidered lace panties to match the ringlets cascading down his shoulders.

Guilt strikes him immediately as soon as Mr. Rich tugs him into his lap, Changbin's face flashing through his head like something hot and boiling ready to scorch him with - that low, deadly rage simmering abruptly to the surface, small kernels of what he knew to be betrayal.

Hyunjin remembers that night on the balcony in what seemed a time so far away now, how Changbin had told him that he understood him well, very well. I understand being paranoid.

A sudden burst of fury erupts within him then. Changbin has no right, no right to fall into traps of jealousy and rage like this - this was his job. Spinning his watchers into his web meant nothing to him, was merely part of the game - didn't Changbin understand that?

Hyunjin grumbles quietly to himself as soon as the time eventually wears out, smile still coy and charming as he accepts the generous tip Mr. Rich leaves him, his fingers numb and almost shaky as he readjusts his loincloth back onto his waist.

It isn't until his client has left the room that he allows his face to slacken, muscles falling as if jabbed in the stomach, his chest tightening painfully the second he steps back outside.

There, back rigid and highly strung against the wallpaper of the corridor, Changbin stands waiting, expression pale and ghostly as his eyes remain fixated on nothing and everything at the same time. Clearly in deep thought.

Hyunjin scoffs as he walks past him, Changbin's gaze flicking up toward him immediately as he notices him, the curves of his face hardening back as his words filter between them harshly.

"What did you do in there?"

Hyunjin only spares him a half-hearted glance, tone icy and cutting as he raises an eyebrow back in his direction. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Hyunjin, I'm serious," Changbin persists, following him determinedly from out of the corridor and back through the main club, Hyunjin taking brisker and brisker steps until he starts walking up the staircase to his dressing room. "What did you do?"

Ignoring him, Hyunjin tries not to falter at the increasing anger that seems to grate his voice, his heart beating wildly as soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, Changbin catching up to him quickly as he yells. "Answer me!"

Hyunjin spins around with the sharpness of a well-honed blade, tilting his head to the side as he gives him a sweet, mocking smile. "Danced a little, stripped a little and oh you know, then I sucked his dick."

Changbin's face falls, twisting itself as if sucker punched as he pales even further, looking one horrid second away from throwing up right then and there. Hyunjin would've laughed at his ridiculous expression if it wasn't for the painful clunk falling somewhere in his chest in the realization that Changbin actually, even if just for the briefest of moments, believed him.

"Oh my god." He shakes his head, desperate not to let the strangled itch in the back of his throat weave its way out of his tongue. "How poorly do you think of me? You really think I'd do something like that?"

Changbin says nothing, only stares at him with fearful eyes and furrowed eyebrows, Hyunjin's heart sinking in a deep, rifting sense of betrayal as his face twists angrily, voice seething with hurt. "Great. Well, glad to know that you think I'm a whore just like everyone else."

"That's not true, you know I don't," Changbin snaps, eyes mellowing just slightly as Hyunjin scoffs, opening the door to his dressing room as he angrily steps inside, Changbin following right behind as he slams it shut.

Hyunjin turns to him bound with all the desperation and resentment he carries, his bejeweled headpiece swaying slightly from the force in which he speaks. "I did my fucking job, is what I did! I made him feel special, feel important - that's part of the fucking game Changbin! Stroke his ego, tease him and bleed him of cash! I didn't do anything, I swear! I just danced and talked, that's all!"

Changbin stares into him strangely, eyes flickering up and down his face rapidly as if slowly soaking in his words, mulling them over tediously in his mind to determine their truthfulness.

Hyunjin scoffs, arms crossing each other in annoyance as he tries not to let the splintering of his heart start to crumble him to pieces. "You don't believe me?"

"I do, I just-"

"You just what?!" Hyunjin shouts, something deep within him snapping at that horrid, godawful betrayed look on Changbin's face, gut sizzling viciously. "You think I'd sleep with one of my customers?! At work?! How unprofessional do you think I am?!"

This time it's Changbin's turn to huff out in disbelief, eyebrows tightening irritatingly as he yells back. "Well you tried to do that before, don't think I don't remember!"

"Unbelievable." Hyunjin lets out a hollow, empty sounding laugh, shaking his head as he takes a step back, an uncomfortable, agonizing lump forming in his throat as he wills his voice to remain steady.

"That was different, I was high and we weren't together then!" His chest starts to burst, small swells of hysteria lingering throughout his voice as he stares Changbin dead-set in the eye, all the swallowed back feelings of nights and nights ago tumbling back to life as they spit themselves in the festering air between them.

"Look, this isn't fucking easy for me, okay?! This whole relationship thing is hard as shit and I constantly feel like I'm on the verge of fucking it up but I'm trying!" His lungs expand themselves pleasingly, addictingly, every tightly bound word he'd kept shut freeing itself at last. "I'm trying to get fucking sober for you, I'm going to NA meetings for you, you know damn well how difficult that is! And I'm doing it because I want us to work, I want to be with you - you think I'd throw that all away for some random guy?!"

His chest heaves as he finishes, Changbin opening and closing his mouth confused in what to say, the anger woven into him diminishing slightly, frustration brewing dangerously instead. "What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to just watch you play along to all that disgusting shit that they say and feel them up and egg them on and not get-"

"What?" Hyunjin cuts him off, face contorted into a mocking sneer. "Not get jealous?"

"Yes!" Changbin's eyes bulge, voice insistent and exasperated as he takes a step closer, guilt thrumming through his vision. "I'm sorry okay, I'm sorry, I know you've already done so much and I know this is hard for you and it means everything to me that you're trying to get sober but it just makes me angry, seeing you like that, flirting with them, letting them touch you. I just- you're so good at it, I don't know what to think!"

Hyunjin pinches his head in frustration as he takes a few step backs, something itching from within the waistband of his underwear as he angrily yanks out the small slip of paper of Mr. Rich's phone number that he'd given him right before he left. Tossing it in his trash can with a harsh swiftness, Changbin eyes it questioningly, irritation replacing itself momentarily with disarray.

"He gave me his number," Hyunjin sighs in explanation, wanting to scream and bang his head against the wall as Changbin's anger ignites itself back to life, jaw hardening instantly. "Half of them give me their fucking number Changbin, calm down! I always throw them away, they don't mean anything to me!"

A muscle pulsates in Changbin's jaw then. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to think! I can't help feeling like a part of you actually likes it, you're so convincing and I hate it because you're my-"

"I'm your what?" He seethes, arms crossing each other warningly. "Your thing? Your possession?" His heart hammers painfully against his ribcage, fury and nausea slicing through his stomach. "You don't own me Changbin and you can't tell me what to do!"

"What?!" Changbin's eyes widen at that, face screwing up in bewilderment as he stumbles back. "Of course not! I know you're not an object!"

"Oh really?" Hyunjin scoffs, taking another step forward as Changbin's exasperation continues to grow.

"That's not fucking fair, when have I ever made you feel that way-"

"Right now!" Hyunjin screams, a daunting sensation of dread seeping right into him. His skin feels tight, too tight from where it's wrapped around his bones, flesh tingly and not his own. "Right fucking now you're making me feel that way."

Changbin shrinks in on himself immediately, eyes overcast by something that makes Hyunjin's gut wince in pain. "I'm sorry," he says, voice scratchy and ridden with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I hate it because you're my boyfriend. Because you're my everything, because I can't stand the thought of losing you, least of all to someone like that asshole."

Hyunjin shakes his head, disbelief overtaking him as his insides clench uncomfortably. How could he even ponder such ideas after all the effort it had taken for them to be together, after all the aching limbs and tears that had been shed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Jinyoung's words ring through his ear, warning loud and clear as it all but brushed past him easily all those weeks ago. I don't need any jealousy issues.

Hyunjin's jaw hardens, eyes crackling with the flames still burning within as he turns to Changbin frenziedly, words desperate and demanding as he pushes them out. "How about be man enough to know that it doesn't matter how they look at me or if they touch me a little because at the end of the day I'm coming home with you. At the end of the day I'm kissing you, I'm touching you. I'm yours. So you need to suck it up and deal with it!"

Something sharp and large stumbles its way in the back of his throat, a sudden wave of overwhelming hurt coursing through him. "But you really have no faith in me, that much is clear."

Hyunjin takes a few steps back, swallowing harshly as Changbin's eyes pool with guilt and sadness, his own breath shaky as he exhales. "Look-if...if you can't deal with this being my job, then clearly you shouldn't be dating a stripper! Because I'm not going to quit if that's what you were hoping for!"

Changbin takes timid, small steps toward him then, face guarded and yet remorseful all at the same time as he speaks out gently, words raspy and dense as they float through the air. "I don't want you to quit, I'd never ask that of you, I-I'm sorry."

He stops for a moment, body reaching out slightly as if to touch him, deciding against it quickly enough as a strange sense of grief washes over his eyes. "I'm sorry, really I am, I just...here you are looking like...like Cleopatra reincarnated, so beautiful, so graceful, something that deserves to be worshipped and they just...they just treat you like shit...the way they look at you and talk to you like they can just say whatever they want...it just pisses me off so much and..."

He trails off, Hyunjin's heart threading itself along to the sorrowful way in which he regards him. He swallows harshly. "So punching someone and yelling at me is better?"

Changbin looks away guiltily then, face dejected and sullen as soon as he turns back to him. "I know I went too far...I just...that guy annoyed the shit out of me and...the way you were talking to him...it bothers me that there are so many guys out there who could give you so much more and especially because you play into it the way that you do..."

Hyunjin's face scrunches up in confusion, unsure really of what it is Changbin's referring to until a small little light flicks itself on in the back of his mind. "What are you talking about, money? You think I care about that guy's stupid yacht?"

Changbin's eyes flood with shame as Hyunjin shakes his head. "Changbin, I couldn't give less of a shit! I grew up dirt poor okay, my house was the size of a trailer, all my clothes had holes in them - money doesn't impress me, it scares me." He takes a step closer, fingers yearning to reach out and touch his face. Still he doesn't, only continues to slowly diminish the anger within him.

"And besides, it's not like I need it. I have enough on my own, enough that I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do with it. Those guys are all assholes anyway, they think they can treat me however they want just because they're rich, so why would I care about that?"

Changbin only looks at him as if defeated, eyes round and disheartened as he sighs heavily. "It's just-every time you smile that smile at them or bat your eyes or laugh that-that pretty laugh, it just feels like I'm getting repeatedly stabbed in the chest and it fucking hurts."

Hyunjin's gut squeezes suddenly, guilt filtering in as he tries not to let his high-held stance falter. Carefully he closes the distance between them, reaching an arm out comfortingly as he grips onto Changbin's shoulder. "Listen, this is my job. They pay for the experience, for the show, for the lap dances, the attention - they pay for that shit, okay?"

He bites his lip, Changbin staring into him attentively. "So I need to give something back, it's part of the deal. It's just a game Changbin, it means nothing to me! I like you, not any of them. You. You have to trust me on that, you can't lose your shit from just a little touch at the waist or the thigh." Hyunjin sighs, conviction pouring through him desperately. "Yes, that asshole who smacked my ass obviously crossed the line but you can't punch him in the face! You can't get aggressive like that, not at work."

Changbin's gaze flits down to the floor as if ashamed, a lingering thought that had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while now swiveling forward as he takes a deep breath, determined to let it stumble its way into existence between them.

Hyunjin exhales quietly, nerves pulsating through him. "And besides...I don't like it when you get violent."

Changbin's head flicks back up to his immediately, his expression twisting into something daunted and pained as he whispers. "I never meant to scare you."

"You didn't scare me Changbin, it just makes me uncomfortable." Hyunjin rubs the side of his arm gently, lips drawn into a distressed pout. "Seeing you angry. Especially if it's because of me."

Changbin pales then, eyes gleaming with terror. "Fuck. I'm so sorry, I-" Taking brisk, ungraceful steps back it seems as if he realizes for the first time what had happened, gaze flickering everywhere as his chest starts to heave.

"I didn't want this to-to happen, fuck." Changbin swallows harshly, face twisting with regret and panic as Hyunjin's heart squeezes. "I'm sorry, I-I hate being like this, I can't, I can't-"

"It's okay," Hyunjin soothes, the anger scattered throughout him evaporating slowly, Changbin's fearful, panicked expression ebbing it away as his hands cling to his face frustratingly.

Hyunjin frowns, worried by the increasing hysteria that seems to befall the man before him. "Changbin, I'm not...I'm not mad, I'm just..." Changbin breathes deeply then, chest trembling as he plasters his back against the wall. A sharp tug of alarm courses through him. "What-what's going on?"

"Fuck." His words are shaky, weak, eyes scattered everywhere as he continues to swallow harshly, breaths escaping him just before he's able to latch on. "I just-I need a moment."

Hyunjin recognizes that cavernous shadow flickering across his face far too easily, fingers jittery as they tap mindlessly everywhere, chest ragged, body restless in a chaotic, barely restrained type of buzz.

Taking one step closer, Hyunjin feels his heart nearly carve itself right out of him, voice timid and small as he speaks. "Are you...are you thinking about getting high right now?"

"Just-Just be quiet, please. I'm sorry," Changbin says, face once more buried in his hands as his knees sink down to the floor, slow, deep breaths steadying themselves through the room as if desperate to regain some semblance of control. "I'm sorry. I really am."

Hyunjin crouches down in front of him, eyes wide and glassy as he peers into the agony of the ones before him. "I shouldn't have-I shouldn't have punched him. I shouldn't have gotten jealous, I just, I hate this-this anger, I hate it so much." A few, silent streaks of tears cascade solemnly down his cheeks, Hyunjin reaching out to touch them timidly as Changbin's whisper splinters into shards. "I don't wanna end up like him."

Hyunjin says nothing for a few seconds, the lump in his throat beginning to ache along with his head as he searches Changbin's face for any signals of rope to cast onto. "Your father?"

Perhaps this time it is he, not Changbin, who needs to cast the rope, Changbin's face shadowed with shame and panic as mutters a weak, barely audible, "Yeah."

"Changbin, you're not anything like him." Hyunjin leans in closer, stroking his cheek gently as his fingers skim over the bruise on his jaw with a distant, faraway expression.

Truthfully Hyunjin's never felt anything but safe in the presence of Changbin even despite being lost in unknown waters and yet...he can tell there's something overcast and murky lingering beneath the surface, depths of things he doesn't understand so tightly concealed it always comes bursting out in flames whenever it eventually spills over.

"You don't know him." Changbin's words are wobbly as he speaks, eyes wide and glistening. "He always got so irrationally angry. I hated it so much and now-now I'm just like him."

"It's okay to be angry," Hyunjin soothes, smiling softly in what he hopes to be an appeasing manner, his rings glimmering upon his fingers from where they carefully caress Changbin's face. "Everyone has the right to be angry - I was furious just moments ago! That doesn't make you anything like him."

Changbin says nothing, neck tilting downward as his gaze burns holes into the floor. Delicately, Hyunjin tilts his head back up again, his own eyes bleeding with all the insistence and candor they carry. "Hey, I trust you. I feel safe around you, I feel comfortable. Never once have you made me feel anything but secure and...you don't know how much that means to me. You're the first person I've felt safe around in my entire life."

Changbin's gaze seems to settle just slightly, breathing a little steadier as his voice continues to unravel dizzily. "But I have-I have issues with it." He looks away guiltily then, ashamed once more. "Sometimes. The anger I mean."

"It's okay," Hyunjin reassures, sharp waves of pain tugging at his gut from that desolate, bleak hue of color upon his face, as if he were nothing, a mere speck of dust too insignificant for someone else's touch. "We both have issues, but we'll work on them together right? Isn't that what you said to me when I blacked out that night?"

"Yeah...it's just...I'm sorry." Changbin reaches out for his hands then, squeezing them tightly as if fearful of what letting go might mean. "I really am. Logically I know I have no reason to be jealous. I know it's your job, I know you don't mean it, it's just...you do it so well that I-I get hurt. And it's not your fault, I don't want to make you feel like it is...I just always end up feeling like that stupid, insecure little boy afraid of my own father that's never enough for anything or anyone. I'm sorry. It's my own issue."

Hyunjin stares at him quietly with wide blinking eyes, voice low and heavy as it whistles between them. "Do you want to talk about him? Your father?"

Changbin's face twists into something uncomfortable then, craning his neck to the side as he tries to avert his gaze. "Not really but...I guess I owe it to you, right?"

Hyunjin bites his lip, squeezing his hands as he tries to convey any promises of comfort he can. "He's in prison, you said. What for?"

"Domestic violence," Changbin responds dully, head hitting the wall as if the mere discussion exhausted him already. "He...he beat my mom. A lot."

Hyunjin strokes his knuckles soothingly, the urge to alleviate Changbin's distress stronger than the sharp anxiety pooling in his gut. "And you?"

"Yeah," Changbin sighs, eyes flickering up and down between him and the floor. "For as long as I can remember pretty much. He'd drink a lot, come home angry and...and he always found something to complain about."

His face scrunches up in distant, memories no doubt flooding through him. "He used to gamble all our money away too, that's why I started dealing when I was fourteen."

"That's young," Hyunjin notes, forehead creased in concern. Changbin seems both oddly unaffected and strangely insecure at the same time.

"I guess...I don't know," his teeth gnaw nervously on his lips. "In a lot of ways I feel like he robbed me of my childhood. I was just so...scared all the time. That fear turned to anger eventually and...it was exhausting to live with. Drugs took away the edge." He shrugs, body tensing uncomfortably. "Made things easier."

Hyunjin nods, understanding running much deeper than he wished it did. He tries not to think of it. "How'd he get arrested?"

"My mom started gathering evidence...she'd been too scared to do it before but something snapped inside her when she found out I was dealing." His face flinches just slightly, as if reminded once again of something he'd rather forget. "She went to the police, she had lots of proof and people to back her up - me, Chan, Jisung, even Hana...it was a shit show but he got locked up. He got ten years...only two more years till he's out."

"Oh..." Hyunjin dives headfirst into the nervous, scattered beginnings of fear in Changbin's eyes, a sharp, dreadful sensation spiking his stomach as he swallows. "Do you think he's gonna try and find you once he's out?"

Changbin says nothing for a few seconds and really it's all Hyunjin needs to take it as a yes. "He has a restraining order so technically he can't but...I doubt he's forgotten how we sent him to prison for ten years. Well, he has no one to blame but himself but...he doesn't know how to do that."

"Your mom must be scared," he whispers, grip on his hands tightening exponentially, "and you."

Something shifts within the muscles of Changbin's jaw then, eyes ablaze with a certain insistence as he stares into him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to let him or anyone hurt my mother again or God forbid, Jia." Hyunjin can practically feel the skin of his knuckles turn white from where he clutches onto them. "Or you. I won't let that happen, I promise. That's...that's why I have that gun."

Hyunjin draws a sharp breath, memories from that night when his stalker had broken in tunneling through him in nauseating waves. He can remember it clearly he thinks, the matted dark color of the handle from how it dipped into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Where is it?" Hyunjin's hand trembles slightly, unsure really, why the thought terrifies him so. "In your apartment?"

"No, the studio," Changbin says, though he has the decency to look guilty. "Chan and Jisung don't know...it's in a safe." Hyunjin blinks at him rapidly, Changbin leaning forward as he untangles Hyunjin's hold on his hands and wraps his own against his instead.

"I can tell it makes you uncomfortable but I promise I would never use it, I just...I feel safer knowing it's there when my father gets out of prison." He must still wield a fearful look, Changbin's eyes pouring out all the insistence and assurance they bear. "I refuse to let him hurt anyone I care about."

"I believe you," Hyunjin whispers and yet the candor in his words does anything to pacify him. The thought of Changbin associated with such things...violence...guns...even the vaguely blurred idea of losing Changbin renders him weak-kneed and shaking.

"You always know how to protect people, but you need to protect yourself too," he insists, lips pouting as he speaks. "I have a feeling you carry around a lot of hurt without tending to it."

Changbin stares at him for a long time then, eyes flickering constantly as if starting to see him in a new light, his head giving into an eventual nod as he sighs shakily. "The truth is, I'm sensitive. I get hurt easily, things are always annoying me or making me angry or just grating through my mind but I've learned how to push it back, how to swallow it. I have a child now, I can't afford to let my feelings get the best of me. I've already fucked up enough. For the most part I'm fine, I...I have plenty of things that make me happy but today...today I just slipped. I'm sorry."

Hyunjin leans in closer to him, bringing his hand up to stroke his face gently. "You shouldn't hide your feelings. Maybe before when you were alone you didn't have someone to share them with but...you have me now. You can tell me anything." The words slip out of his mouth before he has a chance to recognize them, surprised almost, once he realizes how much he truly does mean it. "I promise I'll listen."

"Thank you," Changbin smiles, standing up from the ground as he helps Hyunjin to his feet as well. "I'm just...gonna learn to deal with seeing you flirt with other guys...I'll just have to remind myself that it's all in act. It'll probably still hurt but...I trust you."

Hyunjin tries to discern the candor within his eyes, relief flooding through him as soon as he sees the sincerity. "I promise I won't do anything like that again...granted that I don't get fired of course."

"I'll try to talk to Jinyoung," he quips, leaning into his body with a determined gaze.

"It's okay...I probably deserve it after what I did..." Changbin says, arms coming forward to gently wrap themselves around his waist, words once again tainted by a certain swell of shame, "he just pissed me off so much because it seemed like you...well, like you liked him."

"I like you." Hyunjin frowns then, a distant yet far too large and crashing cloud in the distance of his mind gradually coming closer and closer as he tries to avoid its inevitable rain pour.

"I don't-I don't know how to explain it but..." his chest tightens in anxiety as he speaks, eyes round and wide as they look into Changbin, his gut gnawing on itself with teeth too blunted to do the damage he wants to tear it away, "this job, this lifestyle or whatever it is...putting on a show, giving men what they want...it's all I've ever known."

Hyunjin swallows, a sharp spike of fear striking him inside. "Pretty much all my life, the only positive attention I ever got was from...you know. My looks or sex...or the illusion of it - like my dancing." He tries not to think of it, words detached from his tongue as they filter in the air between them. Still he owes it to Changbin, he supposes, some sort of explanation, some sort of reassurance. To his own withering mind, it's anything but.

"I don't know how to live without it, I don't know if I want to live without it, it's just...a part of me now. I like the attention." He tries to think, realistically, logically - sure he can understand the way his limbs move from a certain perspective on the outside and yet...each sentence he speaks strings itself gut-wrenchingly into the air, carved and marbled like a lie he's too fearful of actually being true. "It...reminds me of my worth and it makes me feel in control, but...I don't like them, I promise."

"Okay." Changbin nods, his movements slow yet understanding as if gently straining his words into his head. "Okay. We should talk about this."

"I'm tired of talking now." Hyunjin lulls his head onto his chest, exhaustion seeping from his chest as Changbin wraps his arms around him. His shift had felt like a lifetime, he thinks, draining and suckling all the blood straight out of him. "Please, can you take me home?"

"Your place?" Changbin hugs him gently, fingers running through his hair careful not to mess up his headpiece.

"No," Hyunjin whines, the thought of returning to his cold, bleak apartment almost rendering him trembling and glassy-eyed. "Yours."

Changbin gives him a fond, far too touched smile as Hyunjin lifts his head back up to look at him. "You call it 'home?'"

"It's starting to feel like it," he shrugs, a demure shadow flitting across his face, his heart expanding in tenfold at the tender way in which Changbin regards him. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all Cleopatra," Changbin grins, lacing his fingers in his own as he starts to playfully drag him toward the door. Hyunjin's chest feels full then, brimming with a comfortable fatigue and well-worn happiness as he yearns to fall into the deep sleep of Changbin's arms. "Not at all."

 

-

 

The following week unfolds itself rather heavily between his grip, both tiresome in its continuous thuds of conversation that fall in pitter-patters against the floor and reawakening through the endless stream of preciously held, sturdy comfort to cradle him night after night.

Changbin and he talk - a lot. Sometimes Hyunjin thinks his cotton-numbed tongue might fall entirely out of his mouth from all its usage, his limbs falling into Changbin's clutch as soon as they both slither into the sheets, free from the innocence of children to discuss such neck-tilting things.

In a way it's exhausting, he finds, having to reach within him to ponder his own short-comings in order to reassess the situation from a different perspective. It's new for Changbin too, he's pretty sure, his reluctance to talk about his own deeply rooted anger proving difficult in the beginning but eventually unraveling as if a ball of yarn too flimsily held together.

Luckily Jinyoung doesn't fire him - though Hyunjin thinks his round-eyed pleading might have had something to do with it - and seems to come to a sort of pacified ease when they slink into the night toward the club together.

When becoming the Tiger Lily, Hyunjin shoots Changbin the occasional glance throughout the evening, small smile ghosting on his lips as Changbin gives him the slightest nod of the head, his own petals still desperate and aching in putting on the show he so bewitchingly does.

Overall Hyunjin is more mindful during the days to reassure him of his own devotion, easing himself into the comfortability of firmly gripping his hand out in public, giving short, sweet kisses unexpectedly and in general leaning into his side affectionately whenever he can.

In a way it's freeing he thinks, allowing himself such unbridled happiness through physical affection despite Jia very loudly protesting every time they kiss with an overtly disgusted look on her face.

Hyunjin only laughs fondly at her childlike aversion to such things, Changbin teasing her with how one day she'll feel the same toward someone to which she very promptly denies and shakes her head frantically in denial.

His sobriety continues as well, difficultly, sluggishly, each NA meeting like punctures to his skin as he still refuses to participate more than absolutely necessary, each word and admittance that comes rolling off of his tongue like something to poison him with.

Having Felix there seems to help at least, his presence as reassuring as it is terrifying, each meeting accompanied by a wicker basket full of cute, sophisticated treats. They go through profiteroles, beignets, freshly made croissants and even macarons to which practically everyone congratulates Felix for finally being able to make to perfection.

Hyunjin finds himself wanting to run away after each meeting, yet Felix, Prison Brad and the woman who always rather regrettably gives him a hug when he enters, Janey, insist on going out afterward to celebrate at a café nearby.

Uncomfortable at first, especially in the wake of how unusually friendly they seem, Hyunjin slowly gets used to this new routine, even easing up in laughter a couple of times at the strange, contrasting dynamic between the rather coarse Prison Brad and almost motherly Janey who seem to have both have a fond place for one another.

Changbin always picks him up whenever he's finished with work, Hyunjin bidding them goodbye as they walk together to pick up Jia.

The normalcy of the addition in his routine starts to seem satisfying almost, patterns of each day familiar as he weaves his way into them - scrubbing his own apartment or Changbin's (despite his protests), droning NA meetings, picking up Jia, helping with dinner, going to work, going home and very deliberately ignoring Lolita rotting somewhere in a drawer at his own place.

Hyunjin even insists on trying to make dinner by himself so as to be ready when Changbin comes home from work with Jia, to which he'd promptly panicked and called Felix for help as he instructed him on how to make tacos.

They turn out well, probably unfortunately so as he pretends to have made them all by himself and suddenly gets thrown with the plead to do it again by a very happily munching Jia. Which is why, as he stands there in the kitchen looking anxiously through recipes on lasagna, he has no idea what to do. (Jia had entered a very all-consuming Italy phase after watching Pinocchio).

Hyunjin watches about ten videos online before he so much as dares start making the sauces, silently cursing his mother for never having fed him real food or so much as bothered to teach him how to make anything more advanced than a piece of toast.

He spends far too long reading the instructions, making sure every measurement is correct and praying to some deity for guidance before at last placing the tray into the oven, already eager to get started on cleaning up the dishes.

Occasionally sneaking a glance toward the oven, Hyunjin becomes increasingly satisfied in his work from where he finishes meticulously scrubbing a bowl over the sink before his phone suddenly brings him out of his concentration, ringing loudly as he flinches.

Hurriedly drying his hands, Hyunjin picks up his phone with a confused frown on his face as he sees who it is that's calling him, the executive writer in chief of the magazine he'd shot for in what seemed so long ago.

He knew the first edition had been a success, more so than they had anticipated, which is why Hyunjin supposes it makes sense that he wanted to contact him again in order to discuss the possibility of signing a contract for the next issue they're developing.

Hyunjin bites his lip anxiously as he listens to the pepper-haired man talk animatedly on the other side of the phone, explaining excitedly how they'd love to have him for another shoot, maybe even more than one if he'd be willing to, praising him endlessly for all the work he'd done on the last one.

A part of his stomach bursts in swells of pride at the compliments and yet a larger one becomes tentative - it's clear none of this has been discussed with Jinyoung, to which Hyunjin isn't even sure what would mean.

Something uncomfortable settles within him then. How much exactly does Jinyoung have a say in what the Tiger Lily does? Does Jinyoung have a patent on his body? He frowns, agreeing to meet with the man for a meeting the following week as nerves twist anxiously throughout his gut.

It isn't until he ends the call and the front door swings open that Hyunjin remembers the lasagna, smoke beginning to filter out of the oven as he curses, Jia's eyes going wide as soon as the smoke detector starts to beep.

Groaning and embarrassedly on the verge of tears, Changbin only gives him an amused smile, reassuring him that it's okay, that they can order something else instead. Hyunjin insists on paying this time, ordering sushi with his own money to which Jia positively cheers. Reluctantly Changbin agrees. Hyunjin considers it a small, yet all too satisfying win.

They eat in a comfortable chatter, Jia switching up between either stuffing a whole piece in her mouth or very messily deconstructing it and picking up each grain of rice one by one.

Changbin raises an eyebrow at her skeptically, but Jia only grins mischievously back, continuing on in telling them everything she'd done with Sophie that day and how that annoying boy Connor was still just as annoying. Hyunjin laughs each time she huffs aggravatedly, Changbin only shaking his head.

It isn't until the sun has gone down and Jia's already changed into her pajamas that the mood starts to falter, a heavy, dense fog settling over them as Jia gives Changbin an earnest, almost saddened look from where she sits under the covers on her bed.

"Can I look at the picture of mom?"

Changbin stills from where he sits next to her, something painful flashing through his eyes before he quietly nods, giving Jia a brief kiss on the head before standing up and walking out of the bedroom to presumably go find it.

Hyunjin stares silently at Jia's face, taking in each curve and muted curiosity of her eyes as they flare into life as soon as Changbin returns, the bed dipping as he sits down next to her with a small, printed out photo clutched tightly in his grip. Jia clambers closer to his lap as she leans over to look, staring at it with a mixture of calmness and longing.

"What was she like?" She asks, voice low as if grating on a whisper, Hyunjin leaning over from where he sits next to Jia to peer at the picture.

The background is dark, indistinct, Hana's black hair falling prettily over her face as she smiles widely into the camera, her skin paled as if moonlit by the flash. Almost immediately Hyunjin can recognize their similarity, the same slope of the nose, the same slant of the mouth. He wonders if Jia can see it too.

"Funny," Changbin says, an unreadable expression flickering across his face as he looks down at her fondly. "Like you."

Jia seems to nod at that, a small smile gracing her as she continues to stare intently at the photo. "What else?"

Changbin seems to think for a minute then, clearly unsure of what to say. Hyunjin thinks he can see flares of ache and hurt course through him, though it's tightly withheld, carefully guarded from the prying eyes of his child.

"She liked to sing," he answers at last, smiling slightly as if reliving some forgotten memory. Jia looks up at him curiously then, clearly not having expected such an answer. Changbin's smile widens at her intriguing stare. "She was always singing and dancing everywhere. She never cared if people watched."

Jia says nothing for a while, mind in deep thought as she gently takes hold of the picture and looks at it for a few moments. Hyunjin can't imagine what must be going through her mind, if she could truly yearn for that in which she'd never known or if it was all merely an illusion one falls prey to in the innocence of childlike wonder.

"She's pretty," Jia whispers, a certain gloom to her words as Hyunjin all but stares with a bursting heart as Changbin's face twists itself into a feigned peacefulness. Strangely enough Hyunjin doesn't feel like he's intruding, not even in the shadow of such vulnerability. Absentmindedly, Jia tugs at the side of his shirt, fisting the fabric in slight comfort.

"Yes, she was." Hyunjin can't tell what Changbin's voice becomes laced with, isn't sure if he truly wants to know, the idea of him hurting weaving straight into him as well. "Like you."

Jia only gives him a little smile at that, though her eyes remain distant and faraway. "Okay." After a while she hands the photo softly back. "You can put it away now."

Changbin nods, giving her a look filled with emotion before leaving the room once more to put it away. Jia says nothing for a few seconds, only sits there next to him as she stares into the wall before a small yawn escapes her.

Sluggishly, she settles her way beneath her covers as she lies down, her little arms reaching out for a hug as Hyunjin gladly leans down and embraces her gently.

Changbin comes back quickly enough to kiss her goodnight, stroking her hair longer than usual as if it pains him to leave the room. Deciding to give them some privacy, Hyunjin squeezes his shoulder before walking back outside to the living room.

He gives them a long, heart-squeezing look from the doorframe before at last tearing his gaze away, their two bodies molded into his vision as if silhouettes to weave themselves perfectly right into one another.

Hyunjin smiles, his stomach swooping in tearful spurts of happiness. Despite his foreignness, he feels a part of them now, something slowly inching its way into deserving to weave his own silhouette along with them. He falls asleep contentedly that night, the scent of Changbin's sheets gentle and lulling as he buries himself into it, bones light, heart heavy, head far, far away.

 

-

 

Hyunjin supposes he should have considered the potential hardships of parental kindergarten drama when he'd first started dating the father of a five year old and yet now, stance tense and nervous as he tries not make eye contact with any of the other parents, he waits anxiously by Changbin's side for a very chattery Jia to finish getting dressed.

When he'd first walked in, dressed normally he thought in nothing but modest jeans and a t-shirt, he'd received strange look after strange look from almost all of the parents he passed by, some staring at him rather nervously before quickly looking away whilst others very blatantly glared at him.

Even Changbin had noticed it, glancing around worriedly before reaching a very widely smiling Ms. Kim who only sends him little stares of distaste whenever Changbin isn't looking. Hyunjin wants to scream, gripping onto Changbin's arm almost possessively as soon as Jia walks out and marches them over to her cubby.

Ms. Kim only narrows her eyes at him briefly, the mask of sweetness back on again as soon as another parent approaches her.

Hyunjin grumbles to himself as Jia starts pondering out loud whether or not she should get her regular peanut butter chocolate flavor at the ice cream parlor or try the 'pink' one as she calls, not really paying much attention to how it tastes. Changbin laughs as he ruffles her hair to which she very loudly groans before skipping over to the toilet before they leave.

Still far too busy pretending not to glare at Ms. Kim, Hyunjin hardly even notices the thick tension exuding off from the parents next to him, the little blond head of a recognizable Charlotte getting dressed by her monkey cubby catching his attention along with the not-so-subtle look her father gives him.

Changbin seems to notice as well, stiffening up immediately as Hyunjin puts his hand on his arm and squeezes in reassurance.

He's become used to it he thinks, far too accustomed to leering gazes even outside of artificial club lights and yet what he isn't used to, or at least hasn't been in a long, long time is the very obvious glare of someone who looks at him as if wanting to knock him dead.

Charlotte's mother stares daggers into him, her eyes seething with loathing from right next to her husband as Hyunjin turns around from her gaze quickly, startled as he stares wide-eyed into Changbin's equally as surprised expression.

"I can't believe that guy's always staring at you," Changbin whispers, casting a quick glance his way before his eyes land back on Hyunjin's. "Can't he at least pretend like he isn't actively fantasizing about you in front of his family?"

"You're unbelievable." Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at him in disbelief, shaking his head as he lowers his voice so as not to be overheard. "You notice any man that just looks me up and down but you don't even notice the woman who practically drools all over you any time you speak."

"What?" Changbin's face scrunches up in bewilderment as he slings Jia's backpack over his shoulder. "Who?"

Hyunjin fights the urge to pinch his forehead in frustration, his eyes bulging as he whisper-shouts. "Ms. Kim!"

"What?!" Changbin laughs, gaze morphing into one of incredulity before quickly flitting it over to a hunched over Ms. Kim receiving what appears to be a drawing from some child. "No way."

"Oh my god." Hyunjin rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he spots Jia emerging from the bathroom out of the corner of his vision, hissing out a quick, probably far too bitter sounding, "It's so obvious she likes you."

"You're crazy." Changbin gives him a happy smile and a brief kiss on the nose as Hyunjin grumbles, Jia interrupting them thankfully with a wide grin as she skips over to her cubby and puts on her bright red rainboots before cheerfully dragging them outside.

Ignoring the fiery looks Charlotte's mother sends him on the way out, Hyunjin's stomach tightens despite the way he holds his head high, squashing the seeds of paranoia as they walk outside into the sun.

Walter gives him a charming smile as he always does as soon as they arrive at the ice cream parlor, the three of them indulging happily in their sugary Friday tradition beneath the cascading sunrays above.

It's a nice day, even nicer than usual as Jinyoung had to close Cleopatra's that night due to some new installations being done, his first real Friday off in longer than he can remember.

He tries his hardest not to obsess too much about the influx of potential germs, fingers itching to reach into his bag for his plastic gloves but ultimately forcing himself not to, the concerned look Changbin had given him the last time he'd done so having burned itself into his mind far too agonizingly.

Somehow he manages, grinning cheerfully as Jia shows them each drawing she'd made at kindergarten that day, displaying them proudly as Changbin marvels at them.

At night, Hyunjin practically scrambles into Changbin's lap as soon as he sits down on the bed, his stomach burning in an eager need for closeness, kiss deep and messy as he flings his shirt over his head.

Changbin kisses down his neck passionately, the grin gracing Hyunjin's face satisfied and euphoric as his heart hammers in bliss, mind preening in need and gratefulness at the same time as they both succumb to the strips of moonlight upon their naked skin.

His pants exhale themselves throughout the room along with the thumping of his chest, something hot and scorching carving itself right out of his muddied, dirtied soul as he lets pure, untainted pleasure become him.

Thick snares of glowing, flourishing vines wrap themselves around his heart as they squeeze out each last drip of devotion he carries, his head throwing itself back as his body trembles with one last, high-pitched moan.

He loves the scent of the man beneath him, loves the firm grip of his fingers, loves that holy way in which he worships him, loves it, loves it, loves it, yes he loves-

Hyunjin smiles lazily as he flops back into the sheets and suppresses his thoughts to dust, Changbin grinning at him happily before brushing a few soft kisses along his neck and lying down next to him.

Eyes glinting mischievously, Hyunjin drags his hands against his chest and positions himself on top of him, face leaning down to catch Changbin's lips within his own as his hands wrap around his waist.

Smiling into the kiss, Hyunjin hardly even notices the loud buzz of the phone on the bedside table next to them, the fluttery sensation alive and well inside his stomach before it ultimately chimes once again, irritation seeping into his gut as he lifts himself up.

Snatching the phone up quickly to find out who on earth is texting Changbin so late, his eyes narrow suspiciously at the unknown name gleaming in his face.

"Who the fuck is Jiyeon?" Hyunjin asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at Changbin beneath him before rolling off, a strange, almost nauseating feeling swirling in his chest.

"Huh?" Changbin's face twists in confusion as he props himself up on the pillows, eyes lighting up in eventual recognition. "Oh, that's Ms. Kim."

Hyunjin's gut sours instantly, a grating, incessant noise tunneling through his skull. "Why do you have her number?"

"Because she's Jia's teacher," Changbin says it as if it's obvious, an amused shimmer in his eyes. "You know, in case of emergencies or important info."

Hyunjin grumbles quietly. He supposes that makes sense but it does nothing to calm the growing irritation within him. "Well, why do you call her Jiyeon?"

"Because that's her name?" Changbin tilts his head questioningly, clearly confused by Hyunjin's continuously increasing displeasure. "She's been Jia's teacher for three years, I hate all those formalities."

Hyunjin purses his lips, frustrated. "Okay but why is she texting you at 1AM?"

"I don't know, that is weird," Changbin admits, gently reaching for the phone as he opens the message and reads it through. "Oh, she's just saying Jia forgot her lunchbox."

Hyunjin frowns, gut pulsating with vehemence. "Why on earth would she need to tell you that in the middle of the night? Let me read that." Promptly snatching the phone back, his eyes narrow immediately as they take in the words and reads out loud.

"'Hello, I hope I'm not waking you. I just realized that Jia forgot her pink lunchbox - I know it's her favorite. I brought it home with me since it's the weekend. If you want you can pick it up tomorrow?'" Hyunjin's jaw drops open, baffled with disbelief. The fucking nerve of this woman. "She brought it home with her? She wants you to come to her place?"

Changbin gives him a sheepish smile. "We kind of forget stuff a lot."

Hyunjin scrolls through their previous messages, Jiyeon apparently having been more than eager to let him know even the slightest information pertaining Jia and her belongings.

"I can see that," he grumbles, raising an eyebrow as his eyes bulge at an earlier message of Changbin confirming that he'll pick up Jia's water bottle at her place. "Wait, you've been to her apartment before?"

"Not inside, no," Changbin affirms, Hyunjin crossing his arms insistently as his grip on the phone tightens.

"And you still want to deny that she likes you?"

"She doesn't," Changbin insists, "I don't see what's so weird about this."

Hyunjin gives him a deadpan stare, his whole body seeping in with a smoldering irritation. "You can't be serious."

Changbin raises an eyebrow then, a teasing smirk flitting its way across his face. "Are you jealous?"

Hyunjin's mouth drops open, completely dumbfounded and yet his chest prickles annoyingly. "No." Jealous? He doesn't get jealous.

Hyunjin grumbles quietly, the thought far too unnerving. Is this what Changbin had felt at the club? He makes other people jealous, not the other way around. "But you are not going to her apartment."

Changbin laughs endearingly. "Okay if it bothers you so much, how about you go pick it up?"

Hyunjin stills for a second, arms still crossed as he lets the idea mull across his mind, his gut slithering in a cunning, wicked sense of satisfaction the more he thinks of it. Someone needs to put that lonely man-sniffing hound in her place. "Actually yes," he says, pursing his lips, "I will."

Changbin gives him a skeptic look as if already sensing trouble based off of his expression. "Okay but please don't do anything that will get us banned from kindergarten."

"I can't make any promises," Hyunjin hums.

Changbin shakes his head, grabbing him back so that he's pressed against his chest, a sincere gleam in his eyes as he speaks. "But seriously, I think you're reading too much into things."

"No, I don't trust her for a second," Hyunjin scowls, his anger flaring back to life at the mere thought. "She's like a snake."

"What?" Changbin laughs, giving him an incredulous look. "She works with children for crying out loud, I hardly think she's some scheming mastermind."

Hyunjin shoots him a sharp glare, a sudden swell of possessiveness entirely unknown to him blazing inside his stomach.

"Okay I'm sorry," Changbin says, rubbing his lower back tenderly. "I'm not trying to minimize your feelings. But you've got nothing to worry about, I don't have eyes for anyone else."

Hyunjin narrows his eyes, an uncomfortable feeling jabbing him from the inside. He isn't used to feeling so...insecure? That can't possibly be it. Jealous? What the fuck is happening to him? A wave of guilt washes over him then as he pictures Changbin's nauseous face from when he'd started the fight in the club, the idea suddenly not as foreign and insane as he'd thought.

Hyunjin stares at him suspiciously, his stomach prickled with a sudden spike of anxiety. "So you're telling me you've never, in three years, thought to yourself 'oh there's a young, pretty woman who knows how to take care of children.'"

Changbin looks at him outlandishly, eyes bulging as he vehemently shakes his head. "Uh, no. Ever since Jia came along, dating was honestly the last thing on my mind."

Hyunjin regards him for a few seconds, clicking his tongue once he finally concludes that he's being sincere, greed thrumming through his bones as he all but throws himself back into his lap, lips attaching themselves onto his neck eagerly as his words come out in broken breathes between his kisses. "Okay, text her back that you're too busy fucking me."

"Whoa, again?" Changbin laughs in surprise, eyes fluttering shut as he squeezes around him passionately.

Hyunjin retreats from his neck with a squinting, glaring expression as he stares him down. "What, you got a problem with that?"

Changbin only grins, fingers already fiddling with the hem of his underwear. "No, definitely not, I'm not crazy either." Hyunjin smirks, satisfied as he starts trailing his lips down his abdomen, Changbin groaning in response as soon as he reaches his happy trail. "Damn I gotta start making you jealous more often."

Hyunjin flicks his head up immediately, grumbling a "shut up" before effectively doing exactly that, the two of them rendered empty of any words throughout the rest of the night, only sweet, breathy noises of passion filtering throughout the room and tumbling straight into his heart.

Hyunjin falls asleep happily that night, body easing at last into a gentle hum of villainous anticipation for the upcoming day, ready, eager even to make it quite clear what was rightfully his.

 

-

 

Ms. Kim's - or Jiyeon's he supposes - apartment complex is unfortunately not that far away from Changbin's, his stomach hardening instantly as he makes his way up to the right floor and number, his entire body practically geared up into fight mode as he quickly tries to compose his face into one of indifference.

Hyunjin knocks on the door firmly, stance waiting and whirring with a dangerous, eager suspense as he readily awaits the synthetic smile undoubtedly about to greet him from the other side. He tries not to smirk at the very clearly surprised look on Ms. Kim's face as soon as she opens the door, her expression twitching as it goes from shocked to disgruntled.

"Oh." Her eyes gleam with barely concealed disappointment as she stares him quickly up and down. "It's you."

"Aw I thought you'd be happy to see me," Hyunjin smiles, tilting his head as he quietly takes in the very obviously put together outfit she adorns, his eye twitching slightly. Judging from her very neatly blown out hair and far too tight dress, she'd clearly been expecting someone else to be standing on the other side of the door. "Don't even have the decency to fake it anymore?"

Ms. Kim promptly ignores him, mouth drawn upward as if intending to mimic a smile and yet faltering all the same, eyes cold and rigid as she stares into him bitterly. "I assume you're here for the lunchbox."

"Correct," he smiles, facial expressions so tight he tries not to let them slip. "And I assume you aren't...? You look awfully nice for a random Saturday all alone."

"Thank you." Ms. Kim only holds her head high, giving him an entirely too artificial look as she stands there tensely.

Hyunjin smiles sweetly. "Too bad it had to be wasted on me, huh?"

Jiyeon's eye twitches, her facade withering slowly as her gaze narrows for the briefest of seconds. "For your information I always dress like this."

"Right." Hyunjin would laugh if his insides weren't prickling with such irritation. "I'm sure."

"Well." She spins around quickly as she reaches for something out of his vision, sticking her hand forward with the familiar bright pink of Jia's lunchbox. "Here."

Hyunjin snatches it probably a little too aggressively, eyebrow raised as he inspects its thorough gleam. His gut sours immediately. "You cleaned it."

"I was just doing him a favor." She smiles, that innocent, overtly sweet act grating into him like needles cinching into his flesh.

Hyunjin swallows a mocking laugh, his eyes narrowing into intimidating slits. "Yeah I'm sure you'd love to do him a favor or two. Cut the nice act you two-faced hypocrite. Where the hell do you get off texting a taken man in the middle of the night?"

Ms. Kim bristles slightly, only tilting her head up as she feigns bewilderment once again. "I don't know what you're talking about, I texted Mr. Seo about Jia."

"At 1AM?" Hyunjin scoffs, crossing his arms as he leans in closer, annoyance brewing into anger the longer he looks into her face.

"And you're still keeping up with this whole professional 'Mr. Seo' bullshit? You bat your eyes and act all innocent but I can smell your pathetic desperation from a mile away and I'm telling you right now that whatever deluded little plan you have in your head, it's not going to work. So spare yourself the embarrassment and back the fuck off."

Ms. Kim's pearly facade slips off her face in an instant, jaw hardening as she narrows her eyes, each word tumbling out of her mouth coated with venomous spit and distaste. "Listen, Changbin is a good man okay, and I don't know what he's doing with you but I already know it's not going to last. He needs someone serious, I mean he has a daughter for crying out loud! "

"And you don't think I'm serious?" Hyunjin wants to laugh, his eyes bulging as he tries to understand why the fuck he even bothers entertaining her by standing around and arguing, a deep-seated need he hadn't felt before coming over him to defend himself. "We're in a relationship, not just messing around."

She only gives him a dubious, condescending look, the corner of her lip tugging up into a smirk. "Don't make me laugh, you're a stripper."

Hyunjin shakes his head as he laughs, bitterness oozing out of him as he tilts his head and seethes. "What the fuck is your plan exactly, huh? You're just waiting for him to one day realize that oh here you are, the perfect woman who's so nice and sweet and knows how to take care of children and then he'll just magically fall in love with you?"

Hyunjin sneers, heart hammering viciously with each word that makes her confident expression unravel. "You talk to him for maybe five minutes during weekdays. You're deluded. Your little fantasy is never going to happen - you don't even know him. We're together. I go home with him, I spend the day with him, I sleep with him, do you not fucking get it? This isn't some competition, I'm already with him."

Jiyeon composes herself quickly enough from the apparent surprise coating her features, her face twisting into the same haughty assurance as before. Hyunjin's chest flares. "He's just...side tracked right now, but he'll come to his senses soon enough. He's been through a lot, I could take care of him and Jia, he needs someone good, not someone like you."

"And what am I exactly?" Hyunjin cocks his head innocently, eyes blinking in feigned ignorance.

Ms. Kim grimaces in disdain, her nose scrunching up as if just having smelled something rotten. "Please, I've heard enough about you and your...profession."

"From who?"

"From some of the other parents," she sneers, eyes demeaning as they flicker. "Apparently not only are you a stripper but you're also the star of some adult magazine."

"So?!" Hyunjin's eyes widen indignation, scoffing in offense. "I'm an adult aren't I? Are you just a prude or have you not realized yet that you are one too?"

Jiyeon only looks at him as if he's some dirt beneath her shoe, quick to emphasize that they truly hold no similar place in society, those condescending looks he'd received from the other parents at kindergarten flashing through his mind. "I don't engage in such vulgar activities because I'm not trashy or promiscuous like you."

"Well maybe you wouldn't be so uptight and desperate if you were," he spits. "You know what I think? I think you just need to get laid." His expression contorts into a sneer, Jiyeon's face falling in indignation. "Or get a fucking dildo at least. Be fucking honest with yourself, this whole sweet puritan act is a sham. You're lonely and horny and in walks the perfect man to project all your desires onto - a young, single dad who's good with his daughter and just happens to be hot."

Hyunjin grits his teeth, eyes burning into menacing slits. "Well he's not single anymore so keep your fucking fantasies to yourself because I promise you, he's not interested."

For a while she says nothing, seemingly entirely taken aback before she quickly composes herself, lips drawn upward into a haughty smirk. "Clearly you see me as a threat since you're here."

Hyunjin's blood boils, his eyes bulging as he tries not to scream. Who the fuck does this woman think she is?! "Because you're insane not because I actually think you stand a chance. You talked to Jia about me for fuck's sake! Aren't you supposed to be a professional?"

Jiyeon huffs, face twisted into anger. "I always ask the children about new parental figures in their life, I'm just doing my job!"

"Your job does not include hitting on single dads!"

"Right," she laughs, the sound mocking as it filters between them. "Not like yours does."

Hyunjin's jaw hardens, his whole body so tense he thinks it's practically about to start slicing him up limb by limb. "How'd you hear about that magazine?" He asks, voice determined and cutting as he speaks. "From which parent?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," she insists. "That's a violation of privacy."

"Yeah, my privacy."

"It's a magazine, is it not?" Jiyeon smiles sweetly at him then, tilting her head to the side in deriding friendliness. "Free to the public? I heard about it out of concern and I can't discuss it with you."

"It's about me!" He yells, frustration coursing through him. His insides simmer agonizingly, anger coming to a bursting point as he tries desperately to will it down. Stupid fucking closeted married men and their fucking wives placing all the blame on him - because of course it's the stripper whore's fault that married eyes decide to wander! His chest flares.

Jiyeon only purses her lips, eyes narrowing unkindly. "Let's just say that some of the moms are not thrilled that a stripper is now on the pick up list."

"Which moms?" Hyunjin already knows, already knew right that fucking second Charlotte's mother had glared him to death during kindergarten pick up. "It's Charlotte's mom, isn't it?"

"I'm not at liberty to say." Jiyeon ignores him arrogantly once more, head held high as she tries not to let her pretty face carve itself into an ugly sneer. "Now. Please leave."

For a second he lets his rage encompass him entirely, passing through him as if one with the wind, a deep, wielding sense of injustice making his spine straighten itself entirely. He doesn't owe any of these people shit, he concludes.

For a short, gratifying moment in the wake of Ms. Kim's condescending jealousy, Hyunjin truly, unequivocally believes he deserves the place he has standing right in front of her, deserves the simplicity of evenings spent cooking for a family, the nights lit up by strips of the moon as he crawls into bed wanted by someone who cares for him. Committed, cherished.

Pity almost becomes him then as he truly takes in the carefully put together details of Ms. Kim's appearance, all the time and effort wasted away on someone else simply because of the cowardice that comes with never having had the confidence to reach for your own desires.

He feels sad for her, he thinks, such a muted, fearful life in the daylight. Perhaps being cast in the shadows does not mean hollowness is more likely to scratch its brittle fingernails against your skin and tear you apart than those who've always lived in the sun. Complacent, accepted, feigning normalcy and contentment day after day.

And yet it changes nothing in the way Ms. Kim looks at him, eyes steely with arrogance flaring as if bathed by delusion still. Hyunjin wants to laugh. What a poor, poor woman.

"Gladly." Instead he smiles, his grip tight on the lunchbox in his hand as he revels in the addicting satisfaction unfurling in his gut. No matter how much purer or better she thinks she is, Hyunjin is not the type of person who will let someone walk all over him.

He gives her a sweet, charming flash of the teeth. "Unlike you, I have plans to attend to, plans which include being...what did you call it...oh yeah, trashy and promiscuous." He almost laughs at the way Jiyeon's face very notably twitches, her jaw clenching in irritation.

Hyunjin only smirks. "I've found that they're great qualities for fucking someone's brains out."

Her jaw drops, something pained coursing through her as his chest beams happily. He tilts his head with a cheerful glint. "So I'll be going now."

He gives her a teasing, mockingly friendly raise of the eyebrow. "Feel free to text me any questions, I'm more than happy to answer. I'm sure you've imagined it," he laughs, her eyes bulging as her cheeks heat up. Not wanting to give her the last word, he chirps a melodic "bye-bye" as he gives a cheerful wave of the hand, heels turning abruptly as he starts walking home.

The look of embarrassment and indignation spins gratifyingly throughout his mind, fingers drumming along the lid of the cute little lunchbox nested neatly in his grip as a warm, affectionate feeling spreads through him.

Now that he's semi-capable of making dinner, he should offer to pack Jia's lunch one day, he thinks. Maybe even Changbin's too. Surely he could make a decent sandwich? It's a happy thought, one that stays on his mind firmly throughout the rest of the walk, angry parents and jealous teachers far away from his mind as he hums contentedly.

It's nothing special, he knows that. Not to most people, no. Still he takes joyful, excited glances down at the lunchbox in his hands every few seconds, heart swelling as he looks at it. He can't explain it, not really and yet he decides not to give it much thought, at least not then as his skin for once feels comfortable, perfect even from how it wraps itself around his body.

He knows Changbin tries to eat healthy, pretends to like salads more than sandwiches even though it's obvious he doesn't. Grilled cheeses are his favorite. Jia on the other hand prefers peanut butter on her bread and pretzel bites on the side. She hates vegetables but loves fruits, grapes and apples especially. But only the red ones, not the green, her face scrunching up cutely each time she eats something sour.

Hyunjin smiles, looking down at the lunchbox once more as he comes back to Changbin's apartment. No, not Changbin's apartment. Home.

Yeah, he thinks, already greeted happily as he steps inside - he could do this.

Notes:

ms. kim finally got her ass handed to her LMAO, i know y’all were waiting for it 🤭

i cannottt believe we’re at chapter 17 already omfg, how did this go by so fast?!😫 hyunjin has changed so much, finally imprinting himself as a part of their family 🥺

next chapter on thursday 💕 thank you so much for reading

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 18: Wilted Clovers

There's a spiderweb in the upper right corner of their kitchen. Hyunjin stares at it apprehensively, stomach constricting at the thinly woven threads that attach themselves from one side of the wall to the roof. He turns his head away, hoping that his mother will notice and get rid of it. She doesn't, scrubbing tirelessly at the surface of the dining table instead - a small, rickety thing with legs only a few meals away from collapsing in on themselves.

Hyunjin sits there nervously as he watches her, his backpack hugged tightly to his chest as his fingers fiddle with the zipper. His mother pays him no mind, only sighing in frustration every few seconds as hair strands from her bun fall loosely in front of her face.

Hyunjin bites his lip, the insides of his stomach gnawing anxiously as he waits for her to finish. He hopes she'll like it, his mug. He'd made it entirely from clay! His third grade teacher had praised him, said it was really, really good. Hyunjin just hopes she won't throw it away like the last drawing he'd given her.

It isn't until his stepfather walks into the room that she moves away and into the kitchen. Hyunjin gives him a small smile, a little less nervous all of the sudden as he reaches into his backpack and presents it proudly, the mug painted a light, pale blue with cute brown teddy bears and clouds all over it. Hyunjin had been really, really proud - his teacher had even shown it off to the entire class!

His stepfather loves it, his eyes widening in surprise as he takes a gentle hold of it, admiring it from side to side. Feeling shy from his compliments, Hyunjin tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and glances anxiously up at his mother. Still she pays it no attention.

It's okay, he thinks, his chest fluttering pleasantly as his stepfather praises him for how artistic he is, how creative. They should put it up for display, he says, on one of their shelves.

Hyunjin grins, happiness bursting inside of him - this is the first thing he's made that anyone's liked! His mother turns her head sharply at that, eyes narrowing in on the mug as she resolutely shakes her head. Hyunjin's stomach sinks.

It's ugly. Horrible. Stupid. No way is she having that in her house. She grabs the mug harshly, gaze scrutinizing as she starts threatening to break it right then and there. Hyunjin's eyes water, chest seizing in panic. No, no, no! She can't, she can't!

He's such an irritating boy, she yells, so useless, so childish!

Hyunjin's insides burn, his fingernails scraping harshly down on his thighs as he tries not to cry. His mother hates it when he cries. Then, much to his surprise, his stepfather snatches it back out of her grip just before she hurls it shattering toward the floor, his mother's face twisting in shock and anger as she stares up at him.

He'll bring it to work, he says, ignoring her as he gazes into Hyunjin. Would that be okay? I would love to have it on my desk. His mother only glares at them lividly. Hyunjin nods, the ruptured seams in his stomach threading themselves back together again, smile wide, eyes sparkly.

It's very pretty he tells him, holding the mug gently in his grip. Hyunjin's heart squeezes, a plunge of pride becoming him. He feels really, really happy then. He hopes his stepfather takes good care of it-

Hyunjin sits up right immediately, breath escaping him as he gasps through the blurred outlines of the darkened room around him, heart hammering viciously as he tries desperately to steady it. It was just a dream, just a dream. Dream? No, memory.

His chest pounds, erratic exhales filtering out of him as Changbin shifts beneath the sheets from right next to him, his body sitting up straight as he peers into him groggily.

"What happened?" He asks, voice laced with concern as Hyunjin waves a hand dismissively, forcing his legs out of the bed despite the uncomfortable prickling in his throat. Standing up shakily, Hyunjin turns to Changbin as he tries to make out his face in the lack of light.

"Just a bad dream." He smiles, lips tight around the edges. "I'm fine. Just gonna go get some water."

"Are you sure?"

Hyunjin nods robotically, averting his attention back to the nightstand as he carefully fishes forward the set of plastic gloves he has lying around. He doesn't want to touch the doorhandle. Or the glass. Not right now at least, with his insides already stretching to the point of rupture.

He can feel Changbin's gaze burn into him on his way out, chest hammering as soon as he quietly closes the door behind him and makes his way into the kitchen.

The water tastes like poison upon his tongue, mouth seeped in a repugnant, repulsive flavor that only seems to trickle right to the back of his throat.

Through the muted light does he steadily manage to adjust his vision, the memory-scattered living room of all their lives together interlacing comfortingly - the sort of kindling charm of worn-out cushions and haphazardly placed toys. Hyunjin stares at it with distaste, a foreign, almost vile sensation curling within him.

He had begged Changbin to let him clean up Jia's toys, arrange them neatly, maybe even give the plastic ones a good scrub but he'd told him not to, that Jia had to learn to keep things neat for herself.

Hyunjin's eye twitches, a small dinosaur staring him in the face from on top of the counter. It doesn't belong there, Hyunjin knows it doesn't belong there and yet there it is. Smiling. Mocking him. For a second he considers flinging it to the floor but he takes a deep breath instead.

Maybe he's going a little crazy. No, no he isn't, he's tired of always feeling like he's the one on the edge - what is so wrong with wanting a little order every now and then?!

Snatching the little dinosaur angrily, Hyunjin promptly puts it back in its place in one of the toy organizers in the living room before scrubbing clean his now used glass of water and putting it to dry.

Fuck. He can't just leave it there on the counter to dry and put it up in the morning - he can't possibly fall asleep knowing it's out sitting there and not in its rightful place. Still he hasn't come around to trusting the kitchen towels Changbin uses in order to dry it himself.

And so he waits. And waits, his eyes scorching holes into the glass until he at last deems it dry enough to put back into the shelf along with all the other glasses. Good. Now he can go back to bed.

Walking back into the bedroom, Hyunjin gently takes off his plastic gloves as he slides into the sheets, Changbin sitting up with his back against the headboard as he peers into him skeptically. "Did you...did you put on gloves to touch the doorhandle?"

Hyunjin cranes his neck to stare at him, mind slithering further and further away into static. "Yes."

"Okay," Changbin responds, the words slow and bathed in confusion as he tilts his head in concern. "Um. Do you want to talk about your dream? You were out there for a while."

"I was very thirsty," is all he says, tugging up the bedcovers as he lies down, eyes boring holes into the ceiling. Small seeds of annoyance bloom within his chest.

"Right." Changbin doesn't sound convinced at all, only inches his body closer to his as he tries not-so discreetly to garner his attention. "So, what was the dream about-"

"I don't really like your kitchen towels." Hyunjin whips his head to stare at Changbin so fast he thinks the muscles start to ache. His forehead creases, the sudden spouts of irritation beginning to overflow. "How often do you wash them?"

Changbin's face twists itself into bewilderment, eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at him. "Uh, what?"

"Your kitchen towels," he points, propping himself up on his elbow as he stares back expectantly. "What's your cleaning routine?"

Changbin only shrugs, eyes wide and baffled as if not understanding at all why Hyunjin would even ask. "I don't know."

Hyunjin's skull starts to grate. "How can you not know?"

"I don't-" Changbin cuts himself off, sighing deeply as if retracing his irritation in order to hold it back. "Maybe once a week? I honestly don't keep track."

"Once a week?" Hyunjin's mouth drops open, indignation burrowing through him as he sits up straight with wide, bulging eyes. "Well thank God I haven't used them, you should wash them every day. In boiling water."

Changbin stares at him for a few short, silence-woven seconds, something indecipherable swirling within his gaze before he eventually speaks again and yet all Hyunjin can really think about is running back out into the kitchen and burning those towels to cinders. "Okay we can talk about this later, what was your dream about? Are you okay?"

His chest bristles, skin buzzing as if infected with the imprints of a thousand scattered, invisible bugs. He forces the feeling to the back of his head, lets it ruminate quietly and with impatience. "No, I'm not because apparently you keep dirty kitchen towels in your kitchen!"

Changbin gives him a look almost as if disappointed, something sharp streaking across his face as Hyunjin pointedly ignores it. "They're not dirty-"

"Yes they are-"

"Hyunjin," Changbin cuts him off, leaning closer to him with a sense of concerned finality weaving through his voice. "You're deflecting. What are you really thinking about?"

"I'm not deflecting!" Hyunjin insists, chest thrumming with indignation. How could he possibly be anything but rattled knowing the amount of germs that fester mere doorframes away? "That is what I'm really thinking about!"

"Okay," Changbin breathes, the sound laced with something heavy. His eyes seem even whiter than they are in the dark, ghostly and drained. "Okay. We should go back to sleep then."

Hyunjin says nothing, surprised and uncertain of what to do in the wake of Changbin's uncharacteristic abandonment of trying to figure out what's wrong. Hyunjin purses his lips, sliding down into the bedsheets as his gaze burns holes into the distorted ceiling above.

In the front of his mind, he thinks strangely about the amount of times Changbin pours out of himself everything he carries simply through the grueling task of reaching into his own head to try and pluck away the pain. Is there really that much wrong with him? Hyunjin's chest aches. What a stupid question, its answer wielded into his skin from the moment he was born.

Guilt gnaws its way through his stomach then, but only for a small, miniscule moment. He has other things to think about, more pressing matters, more important, skin-crawling things. His patience has worn thin by now, the horrid reminder of those kitchen towels leaving him wide-eyed and awake through the bustling of the night, through the visions of the dark.

He wonders if Changbin really is asleep right next to him or if the presence of the moon keeps him just as restless and worried. Through the droning hours does he think he hears low, exhausted sighs exhale themselves into disappointment. Hyunjin's stomach clenches, but he can't think about that right now, no, no, no, he can't. He can't.

In the lack of light does he see things more clearly than ever before, those wretched bugs who thread themselves like needles through the kitchen. It doesn't matter where he is, how much he laughs and smiles and divulges in things not meant for his own tattered flesh.

The bugs find him, they always do, trailing after him through the bleeding remnants of his own sweetened, floral scent. In the bedroom they watch him strip, in the shower they feast on his deadened skin. On stage they marvel and rejoice at his rebirth, night after night. Night after night.

Here, in the dark, they simply wait, biding their time, scuttling close by. Knowing, feasting themselves on the knowledge that he's only a door away. Meal time is soon, he thinks, and nothing tastes better than the flesh of your own, slaughtered kin.

 

-

 

Hyunjin loses his religion over the course of a week.

Well, he supposes 'religion' is hardly the right word, especially with how his body flinches from the mere thought of stuffy, church-bound walls and yet he doesn't know how else to describe it, that slow deconstructing of the self, glimmers of hope waiting on the other side only to have everything come crashing down in the final realization that he had thrust his belief into all the wrong things.

It's a slow, yet jarring process. Hyunjin thinks his dream last night had been the hand to tilt him over the ledge. It starts with the aftermath of his own damning mind, as most things do, his limbs submerged in a scattered, faraway sense of panic that keeps fluttering high above him, begging him to simply stretch out an arm and clasp onto its distance.

Hyunjin tries not to, ignores its tempting grip and yet feels both zapped of energy and riddled with nerves at the same time.

It's excruciating, he thinks, constantly teetering between the line of the cracked-out sidewalks he burns into the soles of his feet and the feathery, deteriorating string of yarn that unravels from his chest.

Perhaps its beginning traces its way to his dream the night before, shaky breaths spilling out of him as if not knowing how else to exhale themselves and yet he thinks, though he really wishes he had no room for thinking at all, that the true starting point of his doom comes unlodging itself from the pretty sun haloing above an unfamiliar dance studio.

It's his first time picking Jia up from her hip-hop classes, Changbin having had to stay late at the studio and sent him the directions for him to go pick her up instead. Hyunjin recognizes faintly in the back of his head that spending time alone with Jia is not something that renders him anxious anymore, on the contrary instead.

He feels useful like this, useful and happy at being submerged in Jia's bright, exuberant presence. Still his fingers rattle a bit nervously as he waits for her to finish up, the talons of his dream scraping silently on the inside of his brain as he stands there rigid and high-strung.

Luckily with the emergence of Jia does the withering of his own doubts befall him, her existence like a newly discovered anchor to ground him with.

"Hey!" Hyunjin grins as soon as Jia trudges out of the studio, a small bag weighing heavily in her grip as strands of hair fall messily across her face. Thankfully he'd prepared himself enough for taking hold of her gym bag as she reaches him, grateful that he'd scrubbed his hands in hand sanitizer more times than he could count. Well, no - Hyunjin always counts. "How was dance?"

Jia cranes her neck upward to look at him at last, brown eyes clouded with something he doesn't think he's ever seen in her face before as she gives him a thin, unconvincing smile. "It was okay."

Hyunjin frowns inwardly, already thrown off and beginning to crumble beneath seeds of worry as he gently pushes the front door open, Jia following suit into the basking sun. Hyunjin peers down at her kindly, trying his best to remain positive as he smiles. "Yeah, what did you do?"

Jia just shrugs, eyes firmly planted on the ground, her shoulders tightly strung as if flooded in unease. Hyunjin's stomach twists uncomfortably, a dreadful, almost paranoid feeling slithering into him.

"What's wrong?" He asks, trying to keep his voice steady and calm as Jia once again refuses to look at him. She never acts like this, always loud and melodramatic in a positive, smile-inducing way. The reminder does nothing to placate him.

"Nothing," she mumbles, eyes trained intently upon her own feet. Hyunjin stops suddenly, ushering her to the corner of the sidewalk as he crouches down in front of her, mouth dipping into a frown as his eyes stare worriedly into hers.

"You seem a little sad." Truthfully he doesn't have the faintest idea of how to deal with any such issues and yet an overwhelming, almost nauseating feeling of anxiety burrows straight into him. "Jia you can tell me anything. What's wrong?"

Jia finally looks at him then, her eyes flitting uncharacteristically fast between his face and the ground as she at last lets a few strained, apprehensive words tumble out of her. "It's just...our new teacher."

Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, a blood curling sensation falling to the pits of his stomach. "You got a new teacher?"

"Yeah," Jia nods, her little face twisting into something of animosity. "I don't like him."

"Why not?" Hyunjin tries to keep his voice steady, a sickening, gruesome pinch of lightheadedness swirling in the back of his head as he concentrates all his concern upon the innocent, kind-hearted girl in front of him. He swallows harshly, willing his panic away.

"He's not nice," Jia mumbles, her head falling down dejectedly as she once again bores holes into the concrete. His panic flares right back to life, a cluster of nerves exploding across his chest as he takes hold of both of her arms, eyes brimming with desperation as he stares up at her.

Sticky. Trapped - the only sound of the world around you the jackrabbiting of your own heart. Hyunjin bites his lip so harshly he thinks it might draw blood. His words sound coated with chipped away ice as they filter out of his gut. "Did he do something to you?"

Jia stares at her own feet for a few more seconds, entire body rendered frozen and unmoving until she eventually nods, her eyes refusing to meet his gaze. Hyunjin's heart drops, a surge of bile rising up his throat as terror becomes him, eyes wide and scattered as his grip around her arms tighten.

"Jia, what- what did he do?" She says nothing still, Hyunjin's gut twisting nauseatingly as he wills all his strength to hold back the emerging vomit slithering into his mouth, the taste horrid and scalding as he forces it back down. "Did he-did he do something you didn't like?"

Once more Jia nods, the movement of her head like a sharp blade to cut open his flesh, a metallic, pungent smell exploding on his tongue. He can hardly hear the scuttling of people walking by them as he stares up at her, blood ringing through his ears, skull pounding in fear.

"What-what did he do?" Each string of his voice laces itself with panic between them, something raw and itchy clustered to the back of his throat. "Jia you have to tell me. It's okay, I promise. You can tell me anything," he ushers, desperate. Hysterical.

Reluctantly his tongue unfurls itself in all the ways he wishes it would not, body brimming with the overwhelming need to protect the lily white of the girl he's become so fond of. His eyes draw themselves wide as he speaks, riddled with dread. With pain. "Did...did he touch you?"

Jia's expression scrunches up into one of a mild confusion, her small face plunged into deep thought until she eventually nods, the craning of her neck like an arrow straight into his heart.

A rotten taste explodes in his mouth like pus, like the dusty decay of neglected cobweb as he clutches tightly onto all the strength within him it takes not to start vomiting right then and there. No, no, no he doesn't have time to think about things like that, not now, not now, not now-

"Where?" The word sounds frenzied as it exhales itself, entire body buzzing in sharp electric shocks as he stares up at her.

Vaguely in the back of his head does he think that perhaps his insistence is a bit frightening, Jia fidgeting nervously beneath his gaze as she at last points down to her legs, her voice wobbly and coated in tears.

"He was-he was helping me stretch b-but he did in front of everyone b-because I was doing it w-wrong," Jia sniffles a little then, head hung low in embarrassment. "He was mean."

"Oh." A sickening, all-consuming drop of relief cascades down his limbs, stomach twisting and squeezing as he wills his heart not to beat its way right out of his chest. "That's not- Jia did he touch you anywhere else? Somewhere uncomfortable?"

Jia shakes her head then, eyebrows furrowed as if not having the slightest idea of what he's referring to. Hyunjin thinks his legs almost collapse from the sudden cessation of his panic, feet prickling uncomfortably through their numbness. Still the unmistakable taste of a decomposing vomit lingers on the ridges of his tongue.

"Do you promise?" Suddenly the mere idea of something so sullied and grueling barreling its way into Jia renders him cold-hearted and winter-bound. All those looming dangers hiding through the guise of friendliness, all the outbranching shadows ready to strike when the moment is right.

He swallows harshly, paranoia tearing its thorny grip straight through his limbs. "Because if he does, if-if anyone does, you have to tell me okay? You have to. Or-or your dad, or your grandma or Sophie's mom or even Ms. Kim, okay? Anybody."

His voice is shaky as he finishes, Jia only blinking at him owlishly. Hyunjin's eyes stare up at her round and pleading, hands still firmly clutched around the side of her arms. "Do you promise?"

Jia nods her head reluctantly, confusion swirling around her eyes. Hyunjin smiles weakly in appeasement as his legs eventually begin to move, carrying themselves upon the sidewalk as he tries not to buckle beneath their weight. Jia's hand slides its way into his, her clutch tight and firm as if scared of accidentally letting go.

Hyunjin swallows once more, craning his neck down to look at her as guilt floods through him. He never meant to scare her. "So-he was mean to you? That's not good."

Jia gnaws on her bottom lip anxiously, nodding after a while as she pouts in that way which only makes him want to reach down and alleviate any pain she might feel. "He's really strict."

It's difficult he thinks, trying to console her with the way his stomach rolls in waves of nausea, a sickened feeling reaching him even when they arrive back at the apartment, her petals of lily white nothing compared to the blackened tar which oozes from his own mangled roots.

There's a low echo in the back of his head throughout the rest of the day, a distant buzz which extends itself well into the week. Hyunjin thinks nothing of it, only notices with a certain revulsion the way his mouth has become a whirlpool of rancid taste, something growing upon his tongue like mold, contaminated with a bitter, rusty flavor as if constantly swallowing small droplets of blood.

Sometimes when he isn't paying attention, eyes unfocused onto everything and nothing all at the same time, clusters of saliva begin to pool in his mouth, seedy swells of something sour begging to trickle straight out of him. Then, as soon as he jolts unwelcomely back to reality, Hyunjin hastily wipes the corners of his mouth, heart hammering rapidly against his chest.

In the beginning he doesn't think much of it, perhaps it's just another side effect of sobriety he will have to overcome and yet a deep tug in his gut knows it isn't true, the constant numbness of his hands, the prickling in his stomach, the strenuous, ragged way in which it's become to breathe - yes, Hyunjin knows its roots are fastened somewhere else.

And yet...cloudy fog obscures the folds of his mind, dragging their spindly fingers across each tissue and rift as if to clog his head with the dew of somewhere else.

Hyunjin stares at himself absentmindedly in the bathroom mirror, skin dull, heart unfeeling, hands rubbing the careful spurts of lotion onto his collarbones as if strung by an automatic mobility. He doesn't care much for divulging into the way his reflection withers right in front of him. He doesn't care much for anything these days.

When Changbin enters, he steps behind him gingerly, wrapping his arms around his waist as he dips in to plant small kisses against his neck. Hyunjin smiles, staring at the two of them enveloped together in the mirror, momentary blankness falling in the welcome of the strong hands which hold him so.

Changbin grins, leaning over the sink to grab his toothbrush as Hyunjin finishes applying all his creams, grateful for lapse of his dread.

His gratitude doesn't last long, Changbin looking at him with an unreadable expression as soon as he puts his toothbrush back in place, a strange air exuding between them. "So, Jia told me about her new dance teacher."

Hyunjin's heart seizes in on itself unexpectedly, a sudden burst of nerves exploding inside of him for no apparent reason at all. He only nods, eyes still trained upon the two of them in the mirror. "Oh yeah."

"She said he's a little strict and she's not really used to that." Changbin peers at him gently, Hyunjin refusing still to rip his gaze away from the safety of their reflections. "Her previous teacher was so good with children, really bubbly you know? From what I've gathered he's just stricter than what she's used to and she can be pretty sensitive. I'll probably talk to some of the other parents to see if I should talk to him."

Hyunjin smiles, the curve of his lips tight around his skin. "Sounds like a good idea."

Changbin hums as if in agreement, stepping closer to him as he tilts his head to the side, smile gentle and as if to slowly coax him out of his shell. "She told me you freaked out a little."

"Oh." His stomach does a sudden plunge, limbs forcing himself to ignore it. Carefully he starts brushing through his hair, gaze trained upon his own face as his voice stumbles out distantly. "I was just...worried."

"I love how much you care," Changbin says, eyes softening. Hyunjin tries not to look at him. "Really. It makes me so happy seeing you two bonding you know...like a family."

The word strikes a comforting cord within his gut and yet his mouth still lingers with the rusty taste of metal and dust. He smiles numbly. "Mmh."

"I tried explaining to her what you meant...you know, good touch, bad touch." Changbin's words turn a bit ragged then, as if it pains him to even speak them. Hyunjin tries not to retch.

"I've mentioned it once before but I probably should've tried harder." It doesn't matter, doesn't matter. It has nothing to do with him. His fingers shake slightly from where they brush against his hair.

"It's just..." Changbin's jaw clenches, a murky shadow filtering across his face. Hyunjin recognizes that anger - subdued, poorly restrained. "Even the thought of someone...of someone hurting her like that...I would kill them. Without even a thought."

Hyunjin believes him, would have believed him even without the sharp twisting of his face, the strange clicking of his muscles, every limb and curve morphed into of one of lethal determination. Hyunjin's gut hardens, hands falling to the side as they clutch tightly onto the sink. He doesn't want to think about it. "I'd help you."

Changbin's withheld anger withers into something else then, something softer, something sicklier, eyes gazing into him with shadows of the unknown. Is it pity? Disgust? "It's weird...no one really taught me anything about that growing up."

Hyunjin thinks the saliva is already beginning to pool in his mouth. He swallows harshly, refusing to look at anything but himself. "I mean of course I heard about stranger danger but no one really bothered to explain much more than that...even in school the only thing we learnt in Sex Ed was pretty much just to use a condom."

Hyunjin smiles teasingly then, catching Changbin's gaze in the mirror as he starts washing his hands. "Not like that did you much good."

"Hey!" Changbin grins, eyes wide in mock offense before walking right over to him, body turned in a way that forces Hyunjin to look at him. But not yet, no. He needs to finish washing his hands. "What about you?"

One, two, three. One, two, three. Something rings gratingly through his ear. "Huh?" One, two, three.

Changbin peers at him curiously, a strange undertone of severity through his voice. "Did anyone ever teach you about those things?"

He really should shower again, Hyunjin thinks, even though he'd already showered three times today. His skin feels coated with grime as it begins to peel. He tilts his head, fingernails aching to dig into his flesh. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you seemed to automatically assume the worst with Jia's teacher...why do you think that is?" Hyunjin almost does a double take at the question, a sudden swell of anger and nausea erupting inside of him. Changbin seems to notice the sharp flicker of light in his eyes, his tone turning softer still as if to calm him down. "Did someone...warn you about that as a kid?"

"Nope." His word sounds jagged as he speaks, cut from the sides and rough around the edges. He feels nothing, he thinks. Nothing at all. "Nobody told me anything about that."

Numbly, he turns back to the mirror, applying another set of lotion onto his face, mind desperate for something to distract him with. Vaguely he recognizes Changbin still standing behind him, gazing into him as if yearning for something Hyunjin will never be able to give.

"Even though it's the parents' responsibility, I still think the schools should be better at it," he says, voice coated with sadness. "There was this girl in our class that got pregnant at fourteen...by one of the teachers. It was so disgusting, everybody felt so bad for her."

Hyunjin's eye twitches, stomach submerged in sudden illness. "That...sounds horrible."

"Yeah, it was." Changbin stares at him sorrowfully, mourning something that makes Hyunjin's gut churn. "Luckily he got caught and arrested."

"Mmh yeah." His words filter out of him as if birthed from nothing but dusty air and sweeping wind, body turning around as soon as he's finished to give Changbin a tight, painful smile. "Ready for bed?"

"Sure," Changbin smiles, wrapping his arms around his waist as he leans in close, tucking a small strand of hair behind his ear. Hyunjin only blinks at him confusedly, the sudden severity of the atmosphere stifling and humid against the rapid beat of his heart. "Hyunjin...you know you can tell me anything right?"

"Okay," he breathes out, the word void of any sentiment whatsoever - hollow, tired. Carved out of the mindless static of wastelands. The lightbulb flickers above them a few times, its inconsistency grating through his head.

"Just...if you ever need to talk." On, off. On, off. Hyunjin grits his teeth. They really need to get that fixed. "I won't judge."

"Sure." Unable to stand the sight of it any longer, Hyunjin rips his gaze back down again, staring briefly at Changbin before twisting his body toward the bedroom, not wanting to think too much about the aching hope that bleeds through it. "I'm really tired now. Good night."

He shuts his eyes in the dark of night before he feels Changbin dip into the other side, feigning sleep, feigning dreams. Feigning a lot of things, lately. Hyunjin's stomach squeezes painfully then, the skin of his bones too tight, too suffocating from where it lies there bathed in murky water day after day.

He scrapes against it a few times, his fingernails rough and desperate to claw himself out. He just hopes Changbin doesn't notice, that he's fast asleep in deep, winding dreamscape.

A few uncontrollable tears well in the corner of his eyes. He itches faster, harder, momentary relief nothing but a torturous promise of something that doesn't last. Somehow he knows through the slumbering hills of such a starless night that Changbin lies there next to him eyes shut, breathing shallow and wide, wide awake.

Though he doesn't know when and he doesn't know how, eventually Hyunjin falls asleep. With sunrise comes disappointment, its glow too harsh, too beautiful for souls of the nocturnal. In the end, he supposes he always awakens, too weak for the strain of the night.

Sometimes, though he brushes it away with each ray of light that greets him, he wishes he wouldn't.

 

-

 

Yes, Hyunjin loses his religion the way one chips away at a slowly discarded rag doll - carelessly. Gruesomely. A massacre of wool and papyrus strewn across the floor.

He likes to imagine sometimes, or at least he used to when the days would drone on into the common swells of childlike boredom and anxiety, all the toys he'd like to have, if he could. If he'd been someone else, replaced his tattered soul with something that wasn't so scrapped.

He imagines them all, that puny room of his filled to the brim with heaps of plastic and cotton until the colors blur his vision. Cars, figurines, plushies and soccer balls. Marionettes, their limbs pulled by the strings in his own hand.

Nowadays, Hyunjin likes to imagine other things, something else entirely. It always starts the same by his vision pinpointed distractedly upon some horrid thing that simply isn't right. A small stain somewhere, a cast of light whose shade begins to grate against the walls around it. He stares at them, all of them, those wretched mistakes and twists them unwillingly to his own head.

Perhaps a part of him likes it, needs it even despite how panicked it always leaves him in the end. First, a shadow. A sliver of something dark, something mystical, something that fills the expanse of his vision as if as unfurling itself through a shadow play - curving and spinning right in front of him as it tells him a story. And Hyunjin likes storytelling, yes, he's always been fond of it. He doesn't think he likes this one as much.

There's a man, in the beginning, the shadows morphing their way into something large, something determined. Hyunjin's body shudders as it swivels through his head, that familiar silhouette against the backdrop of his door. Late at night, late at night. Except it isn't, not now, not here when the sunrays still trickle in through his windowpanes as if crying themselves awake.

At first Hyunjin thinks there's nothing so scary about this man, nothing that should make his mouth bitter and feasting as it gathers with clusters of saliva. There's not much that happens then, not much besides a sudden flashing of its eyes in the dark, yellow pupils burning themselves beneath his eyelids.

He isn't so sure who it is he's staring at then, whose shadow he slowly starts to run from. His own? Or someone else's?

And yet Hyunjin doesn't have time to think, his legs bolting as the walls of his apartment and city come crumbling from all around him, his tiny body suddenly submerged in the thickets of a large, winding forest.

The trees around him do nothing but make his vision dizzy as he runs, legs quick, heart beating, every hair upon his flesh raised sharply in fear as he runs, runs, runs. There's someone chasing him, he's sure of it, he knows there's someone right behind him and-

His legs collapse beneath him pitifully, strong hands grabbing his neck and pushing him toward a murky, brown pond too far away. He struggles, limbs flailing about as he tries to escape the tight clasp of this stranger, his weakness rendering him a lost, futile cause as the man pushes him down, down, down.

Hyunjin can't hear anything but his own painful heartbeat from under the water, his lungs clogging and filling as the vicious arm holds his head down, eyes prickling from the pain of being wide open, chest scalding with each large intake of poisoned water he gulps down.

Hyunjin doesn't understand, he doesn't understand. Why would someone do this to him? Why can't he breathe? Had the pond been crystalline once, or had it always remained as such - dirty, blackened. Contaminated?

His lungs sputter, his flesh burning, burning, burning from the filth of the water until he feels at last the fresh spring of the air around him, the hand on his neck pulling him back up as he coughs and coughs and coughs the remnants of his blood-battered throat.

Hyunjin turns around slowly then, his heart sinking at the sight of the hand, that wretched, thieving hand who'd wrapped its way around him and squeezed him dry and barren of soul. He recognizes who it belongs to, his heart filling and seizing in betrayal.

Hyunjin screams then, angry, desperate. Hurt. He screams and screams and screams, his chest falling to the pits of his stomach as he wails. How could you do this to me?! A few birds crow and scatter from the treetops up above.

The man says nothing, only stares at him, his hands bloodied and wet. Hyunjin screams again, his lungs nothing but air and something that aches. Still silence greets him cruelly back. Hyunjin blinks, redness trickling down his leg. Could anyone even hear him? No one had taught him how to scream, he thinks. Had he made any noise at all?

Slowly his tears begin to fall, silent streams of unsaid sorrows and sharp blades cascading down his cheeks, the cluster of trees around them turning thicker still. Something muffled sounds against his ear, a new, intruding voice he doesn't recognize at first.

Hyunjin blinks owlishly back to reality, Changbin sitting in front of him as he speaks, streaks of concern woven throughout his face at his failed attempt of catching his attention.

Hyunjin swallows, the bleak light of the living room an unpleasant eyesore from the fresh, venomous open air of his mind. Jia had gone to bed, he thinks. It's just the two of them now. Changbin was telling him something, though he doesn't particularly remember what. He isn't even sure what day it is.

Changbin smiles at him excitedly once Hyunjin has shown himself capable of not zoning out, his fingers snapping against his thigh beneath the table for no reason at all.

He's been nominated, Changbin tells him, a boyish, charming grin on his face. Well, they've been nominated, their studio. For Best New Local Tattoo Studio by some Vegas tattoo award organization he's never once heard of in his life.

It doesn't matter, Hyunjin thinks, his heart inflating in adoration and a strange sense of pride as he jumps up into his Changbin's arms and congratulates him.

Changbin stares at him with all the iridescent flickers of the starry midnight sky, something anew and in glow framing his face as he kisses him happily. Hyunjin complies eagerly, the jarring light from above suddenly cast in a mellow, gentle gleam.

Changbin asks him if he'll be his date to the event to which really all Hyunjin needs is to grin in return for Changbin to understand that yes, he will. Of course he will. It isn't until they fall asleep entangled in each other's limbs that Hyunjin thinks perhaps his religion is worth holding onto anyway. Just a little longer, despite him always believing in all the wrong things.

Still the days fuse together slowly as they drag by, his mind unraveling like clusters of yarn to render him confused and dazed on the tightrope beneath his feet. At the club he finds the Tiger Lily becoming more and more distracted, lead by a certain sense of anger and numbness to fully understand why he can never concentrate on things as well as he used to.

He's never unprofessional, of course he isn't, still the best, still the best. Yet confidence eludes him, his head tilting and drooping down, down, down onto the floorboards of his dressing room.

Perhaps he still yearns to rely on drugs to get through his shift and yet...well, he thought he'd been able to move on from that, slaughtering the Hyunjin he knows and detests in order to become the alluring petals of a lily that's been anything but white.

Unwillingly he finds himself holding back in the presence of Changbin, not wanting to repeat their fight in what had seemed so long ago, not wanting to hurt him. Constantly caught between the eyes of everyone else but his own.

That wretched, bitter taste of something rusty and metallic comes greeting the ridges of his tongue nightfall upon nightfall like clockwork. Clock. Tick tock tick tock. It's been so long since he's waited until 3AM to fall asleep now. Wait, why had he done it in the first place? Saliva pools in his mouth, a sudden ache in his jaw. Of course he knows why, of course, of course, of course. How could he have forgotten?

Truthfully Hyunjin knows he can never forget, will never forget, the haunting presence of that number. One. Two. Three. His apartment has never looked so spotless and yet like a bothersome pest scuttling in and out of its hidden corner, there is always something bothering him.

A floorboard that needs an extra polish, a certain angle of his cereal box that just isn't quite right. And really, with all these incessant messes going on in his apartment, how can Changbin blame him from spending more time alone? It's not like he wants to. He needs to.

And so he burrows himself into his own home - can he even call it such a hollow word? - day after day, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing. Dying?

Changbin tries calling him a few times, asks to come over, even knocks on his door but Hyunjin ushers him away, smile tight and apologetic as he resumes back to his tasks at hand. He isn't sure how many days he spends like that, alone and tightly strung like the toys he'd never had but always imagined so longingly.

Someone else calls him too, that magazine editor and yet he doesn't answer, can't, can't, can't. He has things to do, things to clean, to fix. His phone rings incessantly, always bothering him, always grating against his mind.

He looks at the numbers without ever really registering their names - Felix, Changbin, Jinyoung, that pepper-haired man. In the end he puts his phone on silent, relief overcoming him as quietude greets him at last.

Sometimes Hyunjin finds himself thinking again, illustrating the slopes and curves of their colors in his mind as he stares blankly upon his kitchen counters. He's been cleaning it for...he doesn't know how long.

Hyunjin blinks, his washcloth soaked in soap and water from where he'd been scrubbing, his eyes seizing in on the small ringlets of his foamy bubbles. He stands up straighter then, head swiveling around his apartment, mind scrambling to gather his thoughts. What day was it? Hyunjin frowns, neck drooping back down to stare at his kitchen counters.

He thinks he sees it again. He's been seeing it a lot lately. Seeing, dreaming, imagining - he isn't quite sure and yet the thicket of trees surround him once more, his small legs running, running, running as they crunch deadened leaves and grass blades beneath his feet.

Without fail, the strong hand grips the back of his neck once again, dragging and squeezing him painfully over to the pond, the thorns of his flesh tearing apart his clothes as soon as his face becomes submerged under water.

Itchy, reddened, his eyes burn through the blackness of the pond, his limbs thrashing helplessly. Once he's dragged back up again, his lungs gasp, chest whistling to breathe soundly once more.

Then, because he knows what comes next, a sharp sense of dread fills his stomach as he turns around to look at the man who'd shoved him in, held him down, down, down as the world but silently watched his sudden death. Hyunjin forces the bile down his throat as he stares up, gut clenching and roaring through the anger of his soul, ready, eager, desperate to scream and yet-

Hyunjin falters, eyes a pearly, terrified white at the person that looks back into him. That cruel, wicked smile, those empty, barren pupils. Long strands of silky spider hair, lips that only bleed, bleed, bleed each time they open.

Hyunjin would recognize his own reflection even through shadows, even through blindness. His lungs freeze, mouth falling open, body clenched in the need to scream, to yell, to throttle that mocking ghost right in front of him. Had it been him all along?

No sound comes out. Not even the faintest gust of breath, the tiniest exhale of someone dying. How could he speak when his lungs clog with such vernal, orange petals?

His chest bristles, his eyes welling with tears from how dry they've become and he can but stare hopelessly into his own, murderous gaze, not knowing what to do, what to say, what to be. Everything comes crumbling to dust, splinters of himself scattered around him as they become swept up in the wind, dissolving along with them the weakened strings of his religion, away and away and away-

A sudden knock resounds at his door, Hyunjin's body jolting upright as he becomes drawn back to reality, his hand soaked in the soap of his washcloth.

Eyes wide and nervous, Hyunjin makes his way slowly to his door before opening it, a strange mixture of relief and guilt flooding his veins at the sight of the man before him.

Changbin looks tired, he thinks. Tired and handsome, a nice white dress shirt adorning his torso. Hyunjin frowns, unsure of what to make of it. He stills thinks annoyingly of his unwashed kitchen counter.

"Hey." There's something unreadable in the swells of Changbin's voice as he speaks, a tint of sadness and longing as he stares into Hyunjin. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Hyunjin gnaws on his lips anxiously, eyes flickering back to his kitchen as he walks back, Changbin following suit. He grabs onto the washcloth once again, scrubbing neat, concentrated circles down on where he'd been interrupted. "Sorry...I've been busy."

"I can see that." Hyunjin doesn't need to look up to imagine the strangely grim expression upon Changbin's face as his words utter themselves between them. He has things to focus on, things that are more important than idle conversation. "Hyunjin. We need to talk about this."

"About what?" He mumbles, gaze concentrated intently upon the kitchen counters, one, two, three, one, two, three.

Changbin's words tumble out soaked in pain. "Can you please look at me?"

Hyunjin's jaw clenches, his eyes flickering up briefly to stare into Changbin before diverting back down onto the kitchen counter, the grip on his washcloth tightening. Can't he see that he doesn't want to be interrupted?! "I'm a little busy right now."

"Please," Changbin pleads, uncertainty dripping from his tongue. "You've been at your apartment all week. Did I...did I do something? Why've you been gone?"

Hyunjin looks up then, guilt squeezing his gut until it starts to ache, the thrum just as familiar as it is exhausting. He bites his lip, chewing on it nervously.

He tries to think, really tries to remember the curves of the past few days and yet...the only thing that really strikes him is a deep, grueling need to continue cleaning. His skin is already becoming soggy from the soapy water. His eye twitches. "It's not you, I just...I don't like your kitchen towels."

Changbin's face remains still for a few seconds as if unable to register his words, expression morphing into one of disbelief as soon he's engraved them in his mind. "What?"

Irritation burrows its way into him, a sharp whistling sound snaking down his chest as if that of scissor blades cutting eagerly at his seams.

"I don't like your kitchen towels," he presses, staring into Changbin insistently, "the quality is horrible and it leaves off lint when you're drying things and I just...I'm sorry but I really hate them."

Changbin only peers at him as if he can't believe a single word he's saying, eyebrows furrowed in a sense of weariness. He looks far more tired than he's ever seen him, Hyunjin thinks. "So...you've been MIA all week because you don't like my kitchen towels?"

Why is that so fucking hard to believe?! "I'm sorry, I just can't stand them!"

Changbin sighs, the sound laced in something that aches and trickles. He peers at him solemnly, tongue unrolling each word as if afraid of what might come with them, careful and guarded as he speaks. "Hyunjin you...you have a problem. We need to talk about this, we can't just keep..."

"I don't have a problem," he grits, his chest scorching in hot spurts of annoyance. All he wants is to fucking clean in peace, is that really too much to ask?

"Hyunjin I can tell you're hurting," Changbin presses, eyes drooping downward as if in disbelief of his own denial. "All this cleaning and obsessing isn't...it's not normal."

Anger bristles through him as he latches onto it, knuckles white from how hard he grips at his washcloth. "Well guess what? I'm not exactly fucking normal, I thought you would've figured that out by now."

"Hyunjin come on-"

"So I guess everything's just gotta go huh?!" Something rattles in the corner of his head, a sudden clanging sound dropping its way down straight into his stomach. Something coming undone, he thinks, chips falling out of place. "Everything I do is an issue, I'm so fucking fucked up that you gotta fix it all?! First it's the drugs, then it's me being too good at my job and now this - what's next, you think I should quit smoking too?"

Changbin's expression morphs into one of a brewing vexation, exhaustion draping its spindly fingers down his face. "Frankly yes because it's a disgusting habit and extremely unhealthy. I care about you. Please. We need to talk about this-"

"No, we don't." His jaw clenches together tightly, small seeds of panic sprouting from his inability to finish what he's doing. "We don't. There's nothing to talk about. So what if I'm a little obsessive about my cleaning? What exactly is so wrong with that?!"

"Hyunjin." Changbin looks at him with a heavy, deadened weight in his eyes, voice low and grave as if explaining something forbidden to a child. "You have OCD-"

"No." His heart freezes at the word, the small hairs on the back his neck prickling uncomfortably as an eruption so profound starts sizzling in the creases of his gut. His mind seethes, fingers shaking on top of the washcloth. "No. I do not have that, I am not crazy!"

Changbin only looks at him as if pained by the unbearable truth. "People with OCD aren't crazy-"

"I don't want to talk about this." His voice cuts through void of any emotion, hollow and cold as they stumble their way out of his tongue. He gives Changbin a snowy, frigid glare. "Please leave."

Changbin's face twists into one of exasperation. "You never want to talk about it-"

"Changbin, leave!" He shouts, an incessant, anxious gnawing sensation back to take small jabs out of his stomach. He needs to finish, he needs to clean!

Changbin says nothing for a while, only stares at him with disappointment and sadness in his eyes, words dense and carved with tiredness. "So I take it you're not coming to the award ceremony. You're not even dressed up for it."

Hyunjin's anger dissipates immediately, replacing itself instead with hard, frosty guilt. He bites his lip nervously, eyes wide as they blink back into him. "That's now?"

Changbin nods, not at all looking surprised that he'd seemingly forgotten about it. It made sense, he supposed. He hardly knew what day it was anymore. His guilt only thickens in stifling ropes. "I lost track of time."

"Please will you come?" Changbin pleads, stepping closer with an earnest glint to his gaze. No, no, no, he can't, he can't! Not now, not when there's still so many things he needs to do! "It means a lot to me that you're there. We don't need to talk about any of this stuff, I promise."

Hyunjin thinks the spot on the wall behind Changbin is oddly starting to resemble those distracting shadows once more, something murky and not yet decipherable shifting in the distance. "I'm not-I'm not finished yet." He hardly recognizes his voice as he speaks, the sound faraway and muffled. The shadows are already beginning to stir. "I have to...I have to finish."

Changbin sighs, breaths laced in dejection. "It can wait-"

His words snap his attention back to him, panic and desperation seizing him so suddenly he thinks he's become possessed by someone else, someone weaker, someone worse. "No, it can't! It can't wait, I have to clean it up!" His mind comes crumbling to small splinters, something sharp tugging the tissues of his brain down, down, down. Why can't Changbin understand, why can't anyone just fucking understand?!

"Fine." Changbin only looks at him with pity, face falling with all the weight of a thousand sleepless nights. "I'll go. Have fun."

Hyunjin watches him leave with an imminent sense of doom, handsome face and well-dressed frame disappearing from his sight as quick as it had come.

Still through the tight snares of guilt that wrap around him comes relief, tiny, vicious strips that filter within him gratefully. Hyunjin latches onto them with all that he is, leaning back down to the counter again and resuming at last what he'd wanted to do, what he'd needed to do.

His mind remains far away as he cleans, distant and clouded by unknown forces and yet still he manages to count. He always does, in the end, the numbers nothing but gusts of air to exhale themselves like poison through the night. One. Two. Three.

 

-

 

The full force of his guilt doesn't strike him entirely until the next day, his skull pounding in pain as he wakes up, face unrecognizable in the mirror from the shame that seeps into him.

Slowly he begins to panic, a frightened, terrified sensation of having ruined it all rendering him weak-kneed and pale. What has he done, why can't he just be...just be...frustration pools within him, tears welling in his eyes as he rubs them furiously away...someone else.

He bites his lip, determined to make things right again and yet he has no idea how to go about any such things, too used to mistakes, to running far, far away from that which always ends up haunting him.

Not this time, no, he can't lose Changbin, he can't, he can't! Still he needs to clean his apartment...and shower...no...he shouldn't. Changbin is more important than all of that, that horrid three-leafed clover and yet...

Hyunjin's bottom lip wobbles yet again, salted water streaming down his cheeks as he stifles a sharp sob. If there's one thing he's never been able to escape, it's that number, the blasphemous trinity of his own mind. And so he cleans, shower grueling and scorching as he tries not to cry, pitiful whimpers escaping him all the same.

He doesn't manage to leave until well into the day and even then it's difficult to get his feet to move, his limbs infused to the sickened comfort of his own walls as he painfully drags them away and out onto the street below.

He doesn't know what to say as he makes his way to Changbin's apartment, stomach sunken in a bundle of exploding nerves the minute he knocks on the door. He'll figure it out, he'll figure it out, all he has to do is not cry and break down, that's all, he'll be fine-

As soon as Changbin opens the door, his thoughts fly out the window, a sudden chill running through his bones as he feigns a strained sense of normalcy.

Changbin doesn't look surprised as he stares into him, the only brushstrokes painting his face that of a deep, grueling fatigue. Anxiety lurches through his stomach, his smile riddled with nerves as he tries to remain calm. "Hey."

"Hey." Changbin says nothing more, the word sounding robotic as it leaves his mouth. Not even a poorly forced smile. Hyunjin pinches his forearm, eyes wide and regretful through the soft filter of light beneath the doorframe.

"Can I...can I come in?" He looks into him nervously, teeth biting sharply at his lip to steady the dread that's taken over his insides.

"Sure." Changbin steps back to make room for him to come in, voice once again void of any emotion whatsoever.

Hyunjin walks in timidly, an almost overwhelming sense of nostalgia washing over him as he's welcomed back by the familiar curves and corners of the one place that had always made him feel safe. It hadn't even been that long since he'd been there, a week perhaps, and still regret pools within him at the thought of missing even one day away.

Changbin walks toward the kitchen, clearly having just prepared dinner as Hyunjin follows suit. Changbin looks at the two plates spread out on the counter with an empty glint in his eyes before staring back up at him. "I only made enough for two. I didn't think you were coming."

"That's fine," Hyunjin says quickly, waving it off as his anxiety doubles. He gives Changbin an unconvincing, forced smile, not at all sure of what to do. He hadn't come here for food anyway.

Changbin only sighs before picking up a plate and stretching it forward as if to hand it to him. "Just take mine."

Hyunjin shakes his head insistently, eyes wide and determined. "No, I don't need anything. Seriously, it's yours."

Changbin only raises a dubious eyebrow, relentless as always. "Seriously, take it. You need it more than me."

Not really sure what that's supposed to mean, Hyunjin never gets the chance to respond before a bundle of speedy limbs comes barreling toward him with an excited, cheery grin. Hyunjin smiles automatically as Jia's long hair flickers from her movements, face scrunched up into one of delight. "Hyunjinnie!"

Hyunjin crouches down to hug her, squeezing her tightly before Jia starts asking him a million questions about where he was, what he was doing, why he hadn't eaten dinner with them in a whole week. Hyunjin tries hard to smile calmly through his erupting guilt, blaming his absence on being sick to which Jia gently pats his head as if to soothe.

Changbin laughs at that, the sound aching and warm as it tunnels into his ear like addicting drops of honey suddenly seeming so far away. Hyunjin's guilt thickens, sharp spurts of pain jabbing at his stomach throughout dinner.

He tries to focus intently on Jia as she once again carries the conversation naturally, ceasing only to speak through large bites of her food and yet his gaze keeps wandering back to Changbin, a horrid need for things to be okay, to smoothen everything over overwhelming.

Changbin hardly looks at him, keeping his attention on Jia as he smiles and laughs at the ridiculous things she says. Still, Hyunjin thinks, there's a certain distance to his happiness, as if he's unable to commit to it fully. Is this what he had created? Is this what happened to the people he gets close to? Hyunjin's stomach bursts in pain, each bite of food he takes like dry, barren sawdust upon his tongue.

Even after dinner, playing with Jia in her room, does he think he can taste the remnants of his own shortcomings linger in the back of his throat. He reads her a story once she goes to bed, his heart mellowing down slightly as she gives him a fond good night-hug.

Still Changbin practically ignores him through it all, planting a soft kiss on Jia's forehead before they leave the room and silence becomes them.

Hyunjin only continues to look at him nervously, Changbin's face void of any emotion. He doesn't know what to say, he never fucking knows what to say and maybe this had been a bad idea and yet he needs, needs the protective presence of the man before him to stop him from crumbling to the ground.

"Are you staying the night?" Changbin asks and Hyunjin nods, eyes small and pleading as if that of a child, a pitiful, weakened excuse of limbs and bones that builds itself fragilely day after day. He thinks he can see Changbin's eyes soften just slightly, nodding in acceptance as they head towards his room.

Hyunjin strips quietly bathed in the spillage of moonlight, pulling one of Changbin's shirts over his head as the familiar smell of him burrows its way right into his skin. Almost like a drug, like the inhaling of smoke from his cigarette does he crave the firm scent of something so warming, the fabric of Changbin's shirt like consoling drops of water to thaw the ice from his bones.

In bed, Hyunjin tentatively slides further down to place his head on his chest, relief flooding him the minute Changbin wraps his arm around him, tense and awkward as it may be. Hyunjin thinks he feels a sense of calm wash over him just by being so near, just by feeling the steady heartbeat of the man beneath him.

Still anxiety thrums in his stomach, a desperate need to smoothen the creases of his misdeeds wringing his insides upside down. Timidly he peers up at him, tracing the skin of his chest with small, soothing circles. "So, did you...did you win?"

"Yep."

Hyunjin can't tell what emotion graces his face by the sound of his word, though he can imagine still its unfeelingness. Momentary surprise becomes him and he lifts himself up, staring down at Changbin with a wide grin curving from his lips. "Really? Oh my god, congratulations!"

"Thanks," is all Changbin says, a weak, forced smile greeting him back. Hyunjin's grin withers immediately, that dreadful, nervous sensation back to stumble around his stomach.

He swallows restlessly, eyes skirting across Changbin's face as if to gauge his sense of being. Nothing, he thinks. Hyunjin has never really been good at reading people. "Well...how was it?"

"It was fine. Nothing special." Changbin looks at him blankly, Hyunjin's gut sinking at his lack of emotion. He doesn't know what to say, the horrid seeping of guilt pinching his skin reddened and raw. Changbin cranes his neck quickly to the side before looking back at him, a small sigh exhaling itself between them. Hyunjin hates that sound, he decides. "You know Felix was there."

Hyunjin blinks, something painful hitting him in the chest. "He was?"

"Yup," Changbin nods. "As Chan's date."

"Oh." Hyunjin fiddles somewhat distractedly with the hem of their duvet, teeth pulling harshly into his bottom lip as he tries not to tremble. "Well that's good, isn't it? It seems like they like each other."

"Yeah," Changbin says, voice laced with fog and shadow. "They do."

All he can do is stare dismally down into his face, eyes welling with salty, scalding streams of something wet and regretful as the tightly held damn within him bursts all together, rubble collapsing in splintered pieces beneath his feet. "Changbin, I'm so sorry-"

His words cut off by a sob, hands coming up to cradle his own face as he sniffles, Changbin lacing his arms around his lower back as he rubs small circles into his skin. It helps calm him down slightly, though the grave, tired expression draped across Changbin only ignites his panic back to life. "I can't...I can't do this."

Hyunjin's heart stops, his voice breaking as he trembles and stares him down with wide, glassy eyes. "What?"

Changbin only sighs, mouth thinning into a solemn frown. "Hyunjin, I can't keep dancing around this issue anymore, I'm serious."

"I'm sorry Changbin, I really am," Hyunjin pleads, hands balling into small fists against his chest. "I should've been there, I feel horrible-"

"It's not about the stupid award," Changbin presses, eyebrows furrowing in insistence. "You have a problem Hyunjin, we need to talk about it. I can't keep doing this if you refuse to talk about it."

Hyunjin blinks down at him as if that of a child being scolded, eyes big and lips pouting through the steady cracks in his heart.

Changbin sighs gently, squeezing around him in reassurance. "Your life revolves around your routine, around your cleaning. How are we going to live a life together if you don't have time for it because you need to clean your kitchen for the third time that day? How can we go out and have fun if you'd rather stay at home because you're too scared about the potential prospect of getting dirty?"

Hyunjin's lower lip trembles, the words cutting through him deep and sharp. All he's ever known is the steady plucking of his three-leafed clovers in bloom, their stems laced in poison and sweetness through the thickets of his mind.

How can he live, how can he paint himself day after day without the imprints of their faded colors as he crumbles them between his fingers? "I don't- I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"You need to learn how to live with it, actually live with it," Changbin stares into him with all the hope and faith he carries. "Right now you're just functioning, you're not living. Start by admitting you have a problem."

"I've been like this for as long as I can remember," he sniffles, vision clouded by things he can't discern. The shell of his religion begins to crack. "Drugs were the only thing that tuned it out but now...I-I don't...I can't..."

Hyunjin cries into his chest, lungs stifled and heavy as if being weighed down by that which can never come to life.

Changbin holds him comfortingly through it all, arms tight and protective around him as he breathes out quietly. "I know, I know. It's okay." He squeezes around him through a loud, painful sob, his hand rubbing soothingly into his lower back. "Shh, it's okay. We'll figure it out."

"I don't know how t-to change it, I-" His voice falls to pieces as he buries his head further into his chest, tears streaming out of him like he'd been woven of nothing else.

"You don't need to change anything right now, okay?" Changbin takes hold of his face gently, fingers soft as they wipe away the tears staining his cheeks. "The first step is just being able to talk about it. You think you can do that?"

Hyunjin bites his lip as he looks into him, eyes welling once again as he gives a weak, frightened shake of his head - a child drowned in the impending dread of growing up. Changbin gives him a comforting, yet adamant look, firm and unwavering through his conviction. "Hyunjin."

"Okay," Hyunjin croaks, sniffling pitifully as Changbin strokes his cheeks.

"I hate seeing you in pain," he says, eyes downturned and sad. "Please let me help you."

"You're a-always helping me," Hyunjin trembles slightly beneath his touch, shame coursing through him. "A-and I never help y-you."

"That isn't true," Changbin breathes out, face dropping in disbelief. "You don't really believe that, do you? You help me in ways you can't imagine."

Hyunjin sniffs, wiping away a few tears still streaming down his cheeks. Changbin's words wield themselves as if indecipherable through his clogged-up ears. "How?"

"Because you make me happy," Changbin says it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Spending time with you, seeing you laugh, all your little quirks. The cute way you eat."

Hyunjin laughs quietly then at the grin Changbin sends him, shaking his head in incredulity. "You remind me that there are more things to life than just...parenting. Maybe that sounds bad but you've made me realize that I'm my own person too, that being a dad doesn't have to mean giving up everything else..."

Hyunjin stares down at him in awe, the answer tunneling through too fast for him to grasp onto. It's difficult to believe and yet the way Changbin looks at him...well, he's never been anything but genuine. Changbin smiles, tilting his head fondly. "And you've got this innocence to you that makes me really happy."

Hyunjin's eyes widen so much he thinks they might come popping out of his sockets. He tries not to choke on his words. "Innocence? You're kidding."

"What?" Changbin laughs. "No I'm not. You have this childlike wonder of looking at things, like when I got you that turtle plushie, you were so happy, so amazed. I keep forgetting how much I take for granted but you...you appreciate everything. You even stop to smell the flowers sometimes."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but the tearful glimmer that graces his vision betrays him immediately. Changbin smiles, squeezing him momentarily as Hyunjin tries not to start crying once again.

"I know you've had a negative outlook on life but ever since you started trusting me, ever since I got you Bunny, I feel like I've gotten to see the real you. And...I love it." Changbin's eyes sparkle then, something heavy yet delicate flickering across his face. "So much."

Something lodges itself in his throat then, his gaze diverting away from Changbin's face. "This...this is the real me too. The cleaning, the counting..."

"I know that," Changbin says, moving his jaw gently back so that he stares him in the eyes. "I know that. Do you?"

Hyunjin says nothing, eyes only blinking pleadingly into Changbin as if wanting him to lay forth all the answers so that they'll be easy and shiny for him to grab. "You never want to talk about it, almost like you're trying to convince yourself it isn't real."

"I know it's real..." Hyunjin mumbles. He feels like a sulky, panicked child not willing to come to terms with his own misdeeds.

"But...do you know how much it hurts you?"

Hyunjin looks at him not knowing what to say, the underbelly of his words so much denser, so much greater than Changbin could ever understand.

"Yes." His tongue scratches like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth.

Changbin rubs gently against his hips, eyes round and insistent. "And don't you think you deserve better?"

"No," he whispers, the moon echoing in streams from the windowpane. The word washes over Changbin along with something that aches and yet all he does is nod, the craning of his neck like a string of acceptance to pull Hyunjin back down against his chest. A simple, quiet understanding.

Hyunjin appreciates it more than anything, how Changbin doesn't try to convince him otherwise. They both know it won't change the way his mind slopes and twists itself and so Hyunjin lies on top of his chest and listens intently to the steady beating of his heart, each thrum like calming, consoling waves of the ocean he's never seen.

Changbin kisses the top of his head, strokes his hair gently through the night, the sound of his breathing slowly piecing together the splinters of his religion.

In his arms, Hyunjin knows his own pain becomes but a tiny, distant needle too small for him to step on - another universe, another rift in time and space where the only thing that aches is the steady swelling of his heart.

"Good night princess."

Hyunjin smiles, wishing that nothing else existed but the two of them - happy, carefree. Together. Although his wishes have never really come true, he thinks that for just this small, starry moment, they finally do.

 

-

 

Over the course of the next days, Hyunjin thinks the velvet of his faith is starting to patch itself back together again to something that won't come tearing at the seams from the simplest of harsh touches.

Overall he can't abandon his routine but he manages to spend the days at Changbin's instead of his own and somehow, though his fingers itch and shake from the strain of it all, he doesn't pick up Jia's toys.

He even brings his own kitchen towels to Changbin's place just to make breathing a bit easier and Changbin seems to be gently coaxing him more and more out of his rigid, fearful shell.

Last night he'd even managed to go through the whole day without using his plastic gloves despite how panicked it had rendered him. Small steps, Changbin had said, a proud smile gracing his face as he'd given him a kiss.

Jia had groaned loudly at that, to which Hyunjin had started laughing, her attitude overall much brighter now that he was back to spending time with them according to Changbin.

Though he doesn't particularly want to admit it, he clings onto Changbin as if he were a lifeline, accompanying him to the studio, to the grocery store, not wanting to spend any second alone in the fear of what his mind might produce.

Now, however, Hyunjin wishes more than anything that he was there on the way to pick up Jia from kindergarten. Hyunjin curses Changbin's late client more than anything, walking side by side in silence with Changbin's mother instead as the familiar building blocks of the kindergarten's name come into view.

She'd wanted to accompany him, though he doesn't really understand why. They've never really spent much time alone together except for now, much to his chagrin, and yet she seems to be warming up to him slowly but surely.

Still the air remains awkward as they walk inside, Sora's head held high despite the tenseness of her shoulders. Hyunjin only hopes the presence of Jia will be enough to flatten the creases between them.

He tries his hardest not to meet the eyes of any of the other parents, thankful that he can't spot Charlotte's mother or father anywhere as they make their way toward the cubbies, his stomach brewing in irritation as he catches sight of Ms. Kim by the door to the classroom.

"Oh I never liked that woman," Sora mutters under her breath, an eyebrow raised in skepticism as she gives Ms. Kim a fleeting, judgmental look.

Hyunjin turns to her in surprise, a deep curiosity flaring inside of him . "Really? Me neither."

Sora nods absentmindedly, sharing with him a secretive, criticizing look. "I always thought she reeked of ingenuity."

Hyunjin purses his lips, eyes narrowing briefly as Ms. Kim sends them both a barely noticeable glare before promptly slipping on her regular polite facade as she greets a pair of parents. Hyunjin frowns, turning back to Sora as he lowers his voice. "She likes Changbin you know."

Sora laughs at that, the sound echoing in amusement between the two of them. "Oh I know, it's hard to miss. She's like a dog in heat that one."

Hyunjin stifles a laughs, surprised by her brazenness as he raises an eyebrow in agreement. "Tell me about it."

As soon as they approach Jia's cubby, Ms. Kim sends him a loathing look, the ghost of their past conversation practically reverberating against the walls. Hyunjin ignores her, praying silently that no one else notices it and yet Sora catches on immediately, turning to stare at him rather matter-of-factly. "Oh she hates you."

"Yeah..." he trails off painfully, gut rumbling in irritation at the thought.

"Don't worry about it," Sora waves it off, giving him a firm, convincing look. "She's clearly just jealous."

Hyunjin almost does a double take from how certainly she seems to be on his side, her words burrowing their way into him satisfactorily. He purses his lips then, a strained expression flitting across his face as he thinks back to the time he'd confronted her. "Well...I may have gone to her apartment and cussed her out."

Sora turns away from stuffing a few of Jia's things into her backpack to look at him, seemingly impressed. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? I can respect that."

Hyunjin gives her a small smile, not really sure of what to say before Sora's face twists into something that looks shadowed with small strips of guilt. "Look, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot."

Hyunjin stares at her in bewilderment, eyes blinking rapidly as she sighs. "I kind of...assumed everything about you right away. I have my reasons, which I hope you understand but...I probably shouldn't have done that. And well..." her face grimaces awkwardly, as if struggling to admit her own blunders, "I think we should try to get along, you know, for Changbin's sake."

Hyunjin nods, surprise still coursing through him. "Yeah, definitely. I um, I agree."

"Changbin hadn't dated anyone after Jia came along...everything was just so new," she says, forehead slightly creased. "I was just shocked to be honest...and worried, given his history..."

Sora trails off, but Hyunjin gives her a sympathetic, knowing look. "I understand."

Sora smiles then, her eyes softening in gratitude and somehow it feels as if the tight string between them comes snapping in two, easily, silently. She never gets the chance to say anything else before Jia comes barreling toward them with excitement, eyes wide and sparkly as they both crouch down to give her a hug.

Jia grins mischievously as she thrusts a piece of paper toward him. "Hyunjinnie, I made you something!"

Hyunjin takes hold of the drawing gently, heart filling contentedly as he admires the neatly colored lines of a small frog and a heart. He gasps in amazement as he thanks her, giving her a playful narrow of the eyes once he remembers the time she'd shoved a frog in his face to which Jia all but starts cackling delightedly.

"Whatever happened to that frog anyway?" Hyunjin asks, Jia slipping on her duck-shoes as Sora shakes her head painfully at the memory.

"Daddy made me put him back outside," Jia pouts, reaching for Sora's hand as the three of them slip out the doors back onto the street. Ms. Kim gives them a feigned, wide-smiled goodbye as Hyunjin tries not to roll his eyes. "His name was Timmy."

"I'm sure Timmy made it back to his family," Sora says appeasingly.

"No," Jia shakes her head sadly, black strands falling across her face. "He doesn't wanna see them, they were mean to him."

"Mean to him?" Sora asks, an eyebrow raised in skepticism. Jia nods solemnly and looks at him, Hyunjin confused as to why she seems to be staring up at him expectantly. All of the sudden Hyunjin becomes struck by their conversation about his own mother and step-father from all those weeks ago, surprised that she'd even remembered it at all.

"Timmy probably found a new family, don't you think?" Hyunjin peers down at her with a small smile on his face, Jia's warm nod flooding his stomach happily.

"Yeah," she grins, skipping brightly down the street as her lips stretch widely. "He did. A nice one."

Sora gives her a fond look as they make their way to home, Jisung and Chan deciding to tag along with Changbin from the studio with a large container of leftover food Chan seemingly wanted to get rid of.

The orange glow from the light filters in comforting rays throughout the apartment, the tangerine hues reflecting gently off the walls. Dinner goes by with a surprising ease, a sense of appeasement slithering into his chest as Jia's laughter rings melodically through the air, Jisung and Chan interrupting each other with continuous jokes.

Even with the presence of Sora, does Hyunjin feel oddly relaxed, her words and stares turning gentler and more lighthearted with each turn of the head as she addresses him. Hyunjin thinks he can see the cogs in her brain slowly begin to oil themselves into something worth treading upon with kindness and slivers of a languidly unfurling trust.

It isn't until they all clean up after dinner that Jia announces very loudly that she's ready for her bath. Both Chan and Jisung resolutely shake their heads as if already scared of such a prospect, Jia grinning mischievously at their reaction. Hyunjin only looks around in confusion, Changbin sighing as Jia starts to giggle maniacally.

"She'll try to splash you," Chan quips, turning his head to stare him straight in the eye, Jisung nodding along rigorously as if to warn him.

"Yeah, you can't say you've taken care of Jia until you've given her a bath."

Sora only seems to find amusement in their hesitancy, shaking her head as she starts getting up from her seat and preparing to lead Jia into the bathroom. Hyunjin doesn't know what possesses him then, a strange, deep urge gnawing him from the inside as he briskly stands up, voice simmering with a confidence he isn't quite sure where comes from. "I can do it."

Everyone turns to him surprised, Changbin giving him doubtful, almost concerned look and yet it's all the more reason for him to follow through, a cavernous need within his chest to prove something.

He isn't sure what, his mind already ringing with alarms of panic as Jia starts to grin playfully, skipping her way into the bathroom as Changbin steps closer to him, voice lowered in worry. "Are you sure? It can get pretty...messy."

"I'm sure," Hyunjin nods, resolute and firm despite the unsteady pounding of his heart. "I don't want to miss out on things just because...well...you know."

Changbin stares at him for a few seconds without saying anything, creases of concern woven into the lines of his forehead and yet a slow, unraveling spark of light flares up in his eyes, mouth curving into a genuine, eclipsing smile. Hyunjin can't help then, the one that becomes reflected on his own face.

As Changbin helps him find the right temperature for the water, he gives him an encouraging kiss on the nose to which Jia very pointedly scrunches her face up into disgust as she clumsily tries to take off her clothes. It isn't until she's safely submerged in the water that Changbin finally leaves, Hyunjin trying to remember all the instructions he'd given him.

It should be simple enough, it's not like he's a stranger to keeping something clean and hygienic. Still he cringes at the two-in one children's shampoo staring at him from the ledge of the bathtub.

Jia only smiles at him happily, playing absentmindedly with a few rubber duckies that glide along the foam of the water. Hyunjin crouches down beside the tub, giving her a knowing, teasing look. "They all warned me that you would try to splash me."

Jia shakes her head shyly, eyes simmering with something energetic that she tries to hold back. "I'm not gonna."

"Why not? You don't still think I'm a scaredy cat, do you?" Hyunjin grins, remembering her drawing of the frog. Jia just shakes her head bashfully once again, body sinking down into the water as she stares into the ceiling in deep thought.

She turns to him then, her face twisted into that same cute expression of a frustrated confusion. "Because...I can't tell you."

Hyunjin frowns inwardly, careful to make sure his face bleeds enough sincerity for her to latch onto. "You can tell me anything. I won't mind."

"Because..." she starts, teeth chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she peers into him meekly. "I don't want you to go."

Hyunjin tilts his head then, bewilderment coursing through him. "Where would I go?"

Jia bites her lip again, voice low and nervous as she speaks, her gaze meeting his as if too timid to fully stare up at him. "I don't want you to break up with Daddy. I want you to stay here. Forever."

Something warm and gentle trickles into his heart, her sincere, passionate expression slowly beginning to thaw the tightly held knot that always twists up his insides. Hyunjin smiles softly then, her big eyes shimmering slightly from the reflection of the bathroom light above. "Why would you think I'm gonna break up with your daddy?"

"Because I learnt all about it in kindergarten, that some couples get married and others break up," Jia states, her voice swelling into a whine as she speaks as if not wanting to comprehend such a fact. "I don't want you to break up."

"We're not gonna break up," Hyunjin answers without really thinking, the words filtering out of him as mere gusts of a truth he'll always cling onto. "I don't want that. I like your daddy a lot. And you." He grins, Jia giving him a playful smile in return. "So...even if you splash me, I'm not gonna leave."

She turns puzzled yet again, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as she looks at him uncertainly. "It's just...what if he does something that makes you sad and then you wanna leave? I don't want you to go."

Hyunjin stares at her for a few seconds, mulling her words over in his mind. Children understand far more complex issues than most people give them credit for.

"He wouldn't make me sad, he's too nice for that. I promise I'm not gonna leave." He frowns slightly at that, not wanting to make such a hollow promise without anything for Jia to reassure herself with. "And if a problem happens then we'll fix it together. Me and him."

"And me," Jia states, tone serious and grave as she peers into him.

Hyunjin grins, her expression already far more at ease. "And you."

Jia smiles happily then, humming contentedly on some melody as she hands the shampoo bottle over to him, Hyunjin grabbing it and gently squeezing out the right amount before starting to infuse it into her scalp. Jia laughs as he does it, clearly finding his inexperience amusing before eventually sliding down the tub to dip her hair into the water.

Hyunjin gives her a grin as he tries to get everything out, fingers light and thorough, a sharp contrast to the usual rigor in which he regards himself with. As soon as he's deemed her hair clean enough, Jia sits back up straight again, rubber duckies back in her hand along with a few other plastic ocean animals.

She plays silently with herself for a while, Hyunjin watching her with a fond expression before she eventually turns back to stare at him, similar streaks of bashfulness back in her eyes. "I still don't want to splash you...you're different than them. I just don't want to."

Hyunjin tilts his head, intrigued. "Different how?"

"You're more special. And...I don't know how to say it." Jia pouts for a while, clearly submerged back in deep thought.

"It's okay," he smiles gently, "most times I don't know how to say things either. Words are hard."

Jia thinks hard for a while, drawing patterns into the water with her fingers as she seems to contemplate, turning to glance up at him eventually with conviction surging through her voice.

"It's just...sometimes they say things that I don't understand but some other times they say things like I'm three." She huffs then, Hyunjin trying not to laugh at how scandalous she seems to think being three is. "I think it's because grown ups have lived so long that they think they know better and then I have to listen to them. But...you're not like that."

"I'm not?" Hyunjin's back straightens up immediately, eyes round and confused as he peers into her. "What am I like?"

"When you talk I understand what you say and if I don't then you teach me and I understand," Jia says simply, shrugging before leaning over the ledge, small puddles of water jostling out of the tub from her sudden movement. Hyunjin forces himself to stay still. "And there's a lot of stuff you don't know, I like it. Because then I get to teach you. Like about sleepovers and handshakes and toys and...I forgot but there's more."

Hyunjin stares at her bright expression for a few seconds, something oddly solemn yet peaceful thudding inside his chest. "Do you know why I don't know any of that?"

Jia shakes her head. Hyunjin thinks for a moment, a streak of sadness edged throughout his voice. "Because...when I was little, like you, I didn't have any friends."

Jia's face morphs into one of bewilderment, forehead creased as she pouts. "Why not?"

"Well...I was really shy and nervous because I was always scared that I might do something wrong." Hyunjin bites his lip, slightly anxious. For some reason the prospect of talking about his childhood with Jia seems far less frightening than with anyone else he knows.

"So I never spoke and I would look down into the ground like this," he cranes his neck down toward the floor as if to imitate his bashfulness, "and then the other kids started making fun of me cause they thought I was weird."

Jia stares at him with wide eyes, her entire being concentrated on him wholeheartedly. "Were they mean?"

"Yeah, they were," Hyunjin admits, trying not to frown. "And so I was all alone and I never had anyone to teach me these things and by the time I grew up into a teenager and an adult, it was too late 'cause then there were a whole bunch of different things I needed to learn. I used to think it was very sad but now, well, now I'm very happy because that means you get to teach me."

He smiles then, leaning down closer to her. "And you're a very good teacher."

Jia grins, her eyes shimmering proudly. "You have a friend now. We're friends, right?"

Hyunjin's heart melts, his strings tying themselves complete within him. "Definitely."

"That's why you're special because it's always 'daddy, daddy, uncle, uncle, grandma, grandma and Ms. Kim'," Jia imitates a babbling motion with her hand as she rolls her eyes, "over and over, and sometimes they make me tired. But you're my friend, you always understand me, so you don't make me tired." She smiles then, her face lighting up as if suddenly reminded of something important. "Oh and you're very good at playing."

Hyunjin tilts his head curiously. "I am?"

Jia nods with a swift eagerness. "You're the most fun to play with."

"It makes me really happy that you think I'm special," his lips curve up into a soft, tender smile, the sight of Jia's blinking, sparkling brown eyes digging straight into his heart. "I think you're pretty special too."

Jia bites her lip as if shy once more, but Hyunjin can tell that there's an excited, buzzing energy bubbling beneath the surface. "Friends forever?"

Hyunjin grins, Jia stretching out her pinky mischievously as Hyunjin leans in, completing their pinky promise. "Absolutely."

As Jia gets out of the bath, she dries herself off hastily and puts on a small, white bathrobe, humming contentedly on some melody as she perches herself up on the stool in front of the mirror and hands him her hairbrush. Without really thinking, Hyunjin takes hold of it and brushes her hair gently, satisfied at the lack of wet floor as soon as he finishes.

Jia thanks him merrily before he drains the bathtub and the two of them make their way back into the living room, every single eye staring up at him seemingly shocked by the fact that he's completely dry and as put-together as before.

"I don't know what you all were talking about," Hyunjin smirks. "That was easy."

"How...?" Jisung only looks at him shocked, Jia cackling evilly as Changbin grins. Hyunjin shrugs as if it were nothing before Chan comes walking over to Jia with a small juice box in his hand, bowing in front of her dramatically as she starts to giggle. "Your juice box, your majesty."

Jia snatches it mischievously before glancing up at Hyunjin, a playful smile etched across her face as she redirects her attention back to Chan rather sternly. "Get one for Hyunjinnie too."

Chan shoots him an amused look before walking back to the fridge and getting him one, Hyunjin flustered as he accepts it. Jia ushers for him then to sit down next to her on the couch and Hyunjin nearly starts laughing from how cute she looks in her bathrobe and juice box.

He nearly forgets about the fragments of his own decaying self the rest of the evening, nearly forgets about that horrid daydream in the mornings that follow, his chest lighter, easier, breathing not a luxury but the simplest of acts in which to lean into.

Hyunjin thinks he'd been able to grasp onto that slippery tightrope of his religion just before it managed to tilt over the edge, twirl and twist around himself as he lives somewhat dazedly through the bubble he's always wanted to be accepted into.

Nothing else exists he thinks, besides him, Changbin and Jia, nothing else revolves around the sun as the two of them, glimmering and shining in streaks down the walls so brightly that he can't help the ache that comes from how often he smiles.

It is why, as things often do in the wake of his happiness, Hyunjin can hardly fathom the sudden crash in which he plummets, in which everything plummets.

It isn't slow, isn't steady and ruminating in the distance to warn him, but arrives at his door with a sudden crash to his lungs. Hyunjin stares at himself concentratedly in the vanity mirror as he applies his eyeliner, the abrupt swinging of his door making him jolt in surprise.

Jinyoung stares at him with a distressed, newfound expression that carves itself across his face. Immediately Hyunjin can tell that something's wrong.

"Have you seen Felix?"

Hyunjin only blinks at Jinyoung for a couple of seconds before slowly shaking his head that no, now that he thinks about it, the only person he's seen at the club that day was Minho.

His answer does nothing to pacify the sharp lines of Jinyoung's face, his jaw hardening tightly. "He was supposed to go on like five minutes ago and I haven't seen him. Thought maybe he might be here."

"He isn't..." Hyunjin says, the words trailing into nothingness as he turns around to look for him, which is fucking stupid he thinks, because he obviously would have noticed someone else in his dressing room.

Jinyoung frowns, forehead creased as if slowly falling into the tight clasp of distress. "He's never late."

Hyunjin's mouth forms into a thin line, sudden spikes of nervousness burrowing into him. "I don't know where he is, he didn't tell me anything."

Jinyoung's frown deepens, his hand reaching into his pocket as he retrieves his phone and dials his number, expression turning more and more worried the longer it rings without any answer. Hyunjin looks at his phone quickly, sending a few messages before trying to call Felix as well, met once again with the same excruciating throe of silence.

"Felix always shows up to work, he wouldn't just not come without any notice," Hyunjin stresses, his stomach clenching painfully as small brews of panic begin to unravel. "Something's wrong."

"You're right," Jinyoung mutters, something murky and shadowed filtering behind his eyes. "Let's go."

Hyunjin halts, eyes widening at the tone of gravity that seeps through Jinyoung's words. "What?"

"To his apartment," he presses, one hand already on the doorhandle as he looks at Hyunjin with bleeding insistence. "Let's go."

Hyunjin follows behind right away, trailing after Jinyoung with brisk steps and an uncomfortable, accelerated heartbeat. "What about the club?"

"We can afford to shut it down for an hour," he says, stopping by his office quickly to grab a leather jacket. "Felix's safety is more important."

Hyunjin nods along in agreement, impressed he thinks, by Jinyoung's level-headedness and firm action. It isn't until Jinyoung sharply barks orders at some of the bodyguards to shut the club down momentarily that they make it outside, Jinyoung stretching out his arm to hand him his leather jacket.

Hyunjin stares at it dumbly before timidly accepting, draping it over himself as a sudden wave of gratitude seeps into him. It's not like he usually gets anxious walking outside in skimpy clothing but still. It's a nice gesture.

Jinyoung nods his head over toward the street, impatience ruminating in his voice. "Alright, my car is over here, let's go."

Hyunjin tries not to think about how many times they've had sex in his convertible as he hastily gets in, distracts himself easily instead with the nauseating feeling chewing him from the inside as Jinyoung speeds through the city and cursing each red light they get.

As soon as they reach the right apartment complex, the two of them practically leap out of the car and into the building, Hyunjin's legs determined and swift as he runs through the corridors.

"Felix!" Hyunjin knocks rapidly at the door, panic growing and growing the longer he yells without any response. Jinyoung bangs at it viciously, voice loud and commanding as he continues to call out his name.

There's nothing, only a small strip of light from beneath the door. He's home. Hyunjin's gut clenches painfully. "Felix, open up!"

Jinyoung sighs deeply, stress and fear marring his face into something of great urgency as he cracks his neck. "Alright, I'm breaking in."

"Wait, what-"

Hyunjin's words wither in the back of his throat as Jinyoung barrels forward toward the door, his entire body weight slamming against it until it at last comes breaking off its hinges and falls to the floor with a vicious, sudden thud.

Hyunjin jumps at the sound, eyes bulging in shock as Jinyoung walks briskly into the now open apartment, Hyunjin following suit with a terrified, hammering heart.

Everything looks eerily in place save for a few discarded plates and wrappers left haphazardly on the table, the two of them continuously calling out Felix's name with panic lodged in their throats until Hyunjin at last reaches Felix's bedroom, his heart seizing in terror at the sight that befalls him.

Bathed in the blueish light of his winter frost skin, Felix lies there crumpled on the floor, limbs and bones heaped together as if having collapsed from a sudden force. Hyunjin feels his heart carve its way straight out of his body, legs running to crouch down next to him with tears brimming his eyes.

He hardly registers Jinyoung entering the room as well, the faint ringing of an emergency call being made trickling in and out of his ear as he can but stare helplessly at the ashen face of his friend.

His breathing is shallow, chest heavy from beneath the palm of Hyunjin's hand as it heaves up and down, Hyunjin's vision foggy and dense from the saltwater that streams down his cheeks.

Despite the looming chill running up his spine, Hyunjin thinks Felix looks oddly peaceful like this - eyes closed, lashes wet, lips parted open as if about to whisper. Momentarily free from the wretched rumble of the mind.

Hyunjin sniffles, an exploding pain unlike any before stabbing him in the gut, panic consuming him as soon as the paramedics arrive and start hauling Felix's body onto a stretcher.

Hyunjin sobs as they rip him away, Jinyoung crouching down to hold around him. He slumps into his chest as if draining from within him all the comfort and trails of narcissus scent to ground him back to pathetic, dwindling cries.

Hyunjin doesn't know how long he sits there, cradled and in pain, his limbs moving on their own after what feels like the static wavelengths of an eternity, Jinyoung helping him gently up on his feet as he ushers him outside of Felix's apartment.

He should go home, Jinyoung says. Get some rest. Hyunjin rarely recognizes the movement of his neck as he shakes his head, no, no, no. He needs to go to the hospital. Be by Felix's side. Jinyoung nods in understanding, the curves of his eyes submerged in shadows of half-moons - sorrowful, starless.

Hyunjin loses his religion within the course of a week, the carpet beneath his feet pulled away harshly as he can but pray not to lose his footing. But Hyunjin's always stumbled when his feet have mattered the most, falling headfirst onto the concrete as the gravel cuts deep into his flesh, burrowing themselves inside until he's nothing but skin and its holes - incomplete and interrupted.

How could he have so foolishly dived into other matters, bathed himself in illusions and bubbles of a distant, faraway space? How could he have forgotten the pain, the gritty sand of his own tongue, the grasping shadows of his childhood? His self?

Hyunjin hardly notices anything as the lights blur from outside the car window, darkness inching closer and closer to each artificial spurt of color. On the way to the hospital, he thinks, though he can't be sure.

He doesn't trust himself, not anymore, not after he'd dipped his toes into waters so addicting he'd forgotten the stream of which he'd been born. Vaguely he thinks he recognizes the large sign of Cleopatra's as they speed by, sees his own seductive face from the display screen, eyes sharp and eager to feast.

His stomach lurches and yet an odd sense of calm surrounds his moth-eaten heart. He'd forgotten who he was, forgotten the reflection of the Tiger Lily in all its sinful glory. No, not the Tiger Lily. It was him, had always been him.

Hyunjin remembers now, traces the kaleidoscope of his own veins upon the palm of his hand. They form a broken, chip-winged butterfly. He closes it, careful not to crush it, careful not to set it free.

Later, at the hospital, Hyunjin opens his palm and looks down. It's still there, caged and bound, nursed to existence by his own bruised memory. Good, Hyunjin thinks. He won't forget anymore.

Notes:

don’t hate me please 😀😀

hyunjin’s issues are starting to catch up to him, the “calm” before the eventual storm…the inevitability of the withering mind…it’s hard to let go when it’s all you’ve ever had.

 

see you next monday 💕

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 19: Gutted

Notes:

warning…mind the tags please. heavy angst ahead…

Hyunjin's never been in a hospital before and it isn't until today that he becomes grateful, almost, for such neglection.

The lights are bleak from above, almost white as they cast pallid, bloodless streaks down the discordant pattern of the floor. His leg bounces restlessly from where he sits, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip, fingers stretching against his thighs to the point of a grounding pain.

Jinyoung keeps glancing over at him, hand coming to rest on top of his leg to stop it from jittering so much. Hyunjin sucks in a deep breath then, small exhales spilling out in trembles. He doesn't know how long they've been sitting there, a couple of hours at least. It feels like a lifetime, he thinks.

Jinyoung had called to close the club for the night, though by the faintest blush beginning to rise upon the horizon through the window, Hyunjin figures the club would have been closed by now anyway.

Changbin is undoubtedly asleep, falling quickly into the clasp of dreamscape the few nights where he doesn't work late shifts. Hyunjin hadn't wanted to call and wake him and besides...somehow it feels almost wrong, unnecessary to suck him into yet another spiral of destruction and hurt.

"Do you want anything?" Jinyoung turns to look at him then, face woven with exhaustion and distress.

"Huh?" Hyunjin blinks at him owlishly, a slight shiver running through him. He's wearing nothing but his work clothes, Jinyoung's large leather jacket draping thankfully over him only to reveal the tiniest pairs of shorts in existence.

Luckily he'd at least managed to change his shoes before they hurriedly left, though he doesn't really know how well black Ugg's go with his fishnet stockings.

"From the cafeteria downstairs," Jinyoung says. "I'm getting coffee. You want anything?"

Hyunjin only shakes his head, tongue numb and ashen from where it lies heavy in his mouth. "Actually yeah, a pack of Marlboro's."

Jinyoung laughs at that, Hyunjin only staring at him in confusion before Jinyoung straightens back up, eyes staring at him quizzically. "Oh, I thought you were kidding. Hyunjin they don't sell cigarettes at a hospital."

"Oh," he says dumbly, blinking sluggishly back at the horrid cream wallpaper. "Well they should."

Jinyoung only shakes his head in disbelief. "Okay I'm getting you some water. And a nicotine patch."

Hyunjin only rolls his eyes as Jinyoung disappears down the corridor, his mind falling back into its jumbled, frenzied static. His eyes feel swollen, he thinks, most likely from the incessant sobbing and it isn't until a nurse comes out of Felix's room to greet him that he feels like breaking down hysterically once more.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath as he follows her into the room, relief and emotion flooding through him the moment he sees Felix's gray, ashen face give him a weak, strained smile. Hyunjin rushes over to him immediately, tears welling in his eyes as he sits down and leans across the hospital bed, grabbing Felix's hands gently and squeezing. "Thank God you're okay."

"Yeah..." Felix trails off uncomfortably, eyes flickering all around the room as if unsure of where they should land upon. For the first time in probably his entire life, Hyunjin doesn't feel an ounce of social tension or inability to speak, too overcome with relief and small droplets of tears to care.

His nurse gives him a brief rundown of the situation, that his vitals are now stable but that he should stay the night just in case. Hyunjin nods in rapt concentration, turning back to Felix as soon as she leaves the room.

"What happened? Why did you..." Felix only looks at him guiltily, clearly not wanting to discuss it and yet Hyunjin's forehead creases in concern, eyes wide and glassy as they stare into him. "I thought you were doing so well."

"I was," Felix breaks into a sob, voice cracking as he starts to furiously wipe away his tears. A pitiful sniffle escapes him. "A-and now I ruined it, it's a-all ruined."

"That's not true, Felix," Hyunjin consoles. "You know that's not true."

"The n-nurse told me that if you g-guys hadn't found me, I'd be..." Felix's voice withers away into a string of silent cries, the palms of his hands digging into his eyes until he wills his body to stop trembling. He breathes out shakily, each word like a dagger straight to his chest. "Th-that I'd be d-dead."

Hyunjin's stomach drops, his blood freezing as he stares into the wet, reddened eyes of the man before him, face streaked with desperation and shame. Luckily he never gets to respond, the sudden appearance of Jinyoung making his way through the door with two cups in his hand interrupting the strangled urge to start sobbing yet again.

Jinyoung places the cups down hastily as he sits down next to Hyunjin and leans over, Felix's composure withering once more.

"I'm sorry," he cries, eyes scattered with embarrassment as he looks into Jinyoung. "I'm s-so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jinyoung says, seemingly just as relieved as he'd been over Felix's survival. "The important part is that you're okay now. I think you should take some time off."

"N-no please," Felix sobs, voice laced with brewing hysteria. "I swear it won't h-happen again. I d-don't need r-rehab, I was doing so w-well, I just...I just..." Felix's shoulders hunch over as he breaks down, breaths coming out short and strangled as Jinyoung wraps his arms around him comfortingly.

Hyunjin watches with a strange sense of misplacement as it dawns on him how little he truly knows about Felix, about Jinyoung for that matter. The way in which Felix seems to sink into his arms as if putting forth all of his trust into him, Hyunjin realizes that perhaps no one truly knows them better than Jinyoung does - scattered pieces across the desert for him to harvest and shield from the harsh, smoldering sun.

He'd been wrong about Felix, he thinks, wrong and blinded by the pearly white of his teeth and the golden rays of hair that spill angelically across his face. Sudden guilt punches him then, how wholeheartedly he'd believed Felix's bright, snowy demeaner to be an obstruction of pain, the promise of nothing but pure, intact naivety to which he could but seethe with burning envy.

Now, in the welcome of the harsh, antiseptic light, Hyunjin sees for the first time all the rifts and cracks painted upon Felix's face - his pallid, sunken skin, the gray beneath his eyes, the ache within his tears.

Felix sniffles then, retreating from Jinyoung's arms as he attempts once more to compose himself. Hyunjin doesn't know any longer what to say, what to think. How could things change so fast, warp themselves into monstrosities in mere spindling seconds?

"What did you take?" Jinyoung looks at him kindly, eyes spilling with concern.

"Pain killers," Felix admits, staring down at his lap as he fiddles with his fingers.

Jinyoung only nods, the lines on his face much deeper than he remembered. "Opioids?"

Felix bites his lip then, shame coursing through him as he nods his head that yes, he had. Hyunjin only stares, wishing he could do something, wishing he could seep away the pain scattered all across Felix's face.

"Where'd you get them?" Jinyoung asks and suddenly Felix looks far more hesitant to speak, eyes skittish as they flick around the room, fingers shaking from where they trace the outline of his hospital bracelet.

"I..." Felix stares back up at them then, a timid swell billowing through his voice. "I got them from Minho."

"What?!" Hyunjin's eyes bulge, shock coursing through him as it punches him from every direction, a deep-seated, ugly deformity of anger rearing its head back to life. "Minho gave you the drugs?!"

"It wasn't-" Felix panics then, clearly caught off guard and nervous from his sudden rage. Hyunjin doesn't care, can see nothing but the hot sizzling veins of his own blood as they boil from his insides. "It wasn't Minho's fault, I asked-I asked for them."

"That's fucking bullshit!" He yells, eyes so wide he thinks they might come tumbling out, Felix flinching visibly as Jinyoung puts a hand on his shoulder and looks at him sternly. "Okay Hyunjin, calm down."

"Calm down?!" Hyunjin swivels toward him furiously, his chest pulsating viciously. "Aren't you angry?! Minho is such a fucking-"

"Of course I'm angry," Jinyoung cuts him off, voice laced with that familiar firmness which always makes him listen. Hyunjin only grumbles frustratedly. "But there are more pressing things at hand right now, like Felix's wellbeing."

Hyunjin looks back at Felix guiltily, pursing his lips as he slumps back meekly into his chair. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

Felix smiles back weakly, insisting that it's okay, that it really was his fault after all. He needs to take responsibility, he says, his voice trembling through each word. He can't place the blame on anyone else. Hyunjin thinks it sounds like he's reciting something Duncan would preach at their NA meetings, though he isn't quite sure if Felix truly means it or not.

And so he says nothing, only smiles back in comfort until at last it's time for them to go, Hyunjin eventually managing to convince a very reluctant Felix to call Chan as he and Jinyoung make their way back home.

Jinyoung asks if he wants the day off, but all he can do is shake his head. No, no. The Tiger Lily is all that he has, all that he truly, unequivocally bleeds. He wonders if Felix would understand, thinks that through all his insistence of coming back to work as soon as possible that yes, he would.

Jinyoung had reluctantly agreed, mostly due to the fact that Felix had proven himself reliable in his sobriety any other time but had promised through a sense of stern sympathy that he wouldn't hesitate to help put him in rehab if it happened again. Felix had nodded in slight embarrassment, face conflicted and yet unreadable all at the same time.

Hyunjin tries not to think too much about what happened the following night, Felix's blue-tinted, deadened face haunting his mind every few minutes or so. He tells Changbin, because of course he would find out and yet through all his worry and concern, Hyunjin shies away from any attempts at being comforted. He's fine. He's fine.

And yet he isn't, at least not now, at least not here in the rifts of his vanity mirror, his clothes tight and stifling against his skin, the makeup searing into his face as if about to start melting right off.

Hyunjin's chest burns with anger at the thought of performing in the same space as Minho, each tug of his lip and glint of his eye plummeting through his stomach in bundles of a vicious fury.

Minho walks around as if guilty of nothing, passing through life with all the cruelty of that which can never be forgiven. Hyunjin's eye twitches, veins seething with so much loathing he thinks he's about to explode, feet carrying themselves automatically all the way to Minho's dressing room as he knocks harshly on the door.

Minho only opens it with an indifferent expression draped across his face, Hyunjin barreling inside with only rage simmering through him. He ignores the pointed mess of the room, eyes barely skimming over the amount of clothes strewn upon the floor as he points at him angrily.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" Minho looks at him as if unimpressed, Hyunjin's gut churning with indignance. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You gave Felix fucking opioids when you knew he was sober?!"

Minho's eyes flicker with something malicious, a cord striking within him at the mention of Felix's name. "He came to me begging for them! What the fuck was I supposed to do?!"

"Say no?!" Hyunjin stares at him with wide, bulging eyes, face twisting into a livid bewilderment. He can hardly believe his own ears. "You were supposed to say no! But of fucking course you didn't because you can't stand seeing anyone else accomplish anything, can you?!"

Minho's gaze narrows into something serrated and maddened, arms crossing each other as he spits, "you don't know what the fuck you're talking about, he came to me completely hysterical! If Felix wants to fuck up his sobriety, that's his choice! Who am I to stand in the way of that?!"

Hyunjin scoffs, the urge to rip his hair out growing stronger and stronger by the second. "No one was asking you to be his fucking therapist but you straight up handed him the drugs on a silver platter!"

He inches closer to him then, words seething as they tumble out of his mouth, each cluster of withheld hatred toward Minho spilling away satisfyingly. "You're a spineless piece of shit, you know that?"

Minho laughs at that, face morphed into something of disbelief as he smiles back mockingly. "Oh here you come all high and mighty and morally superior 'cause you managed to bag a single dad and act out some white picket fence fantasy like that makes you soo much better than everyone else."

Hyunjin's heart burns, stance refusing to stumble back at how quickly the subject had changed. Minho only smiles at him sweetly, claws ready and sharp to dig straight into his flesh. "You know he's going to get tired of you when he realizes you're nothing but a washed up whore making the dull nine to five a little more exciting."

Hyunjin shakes his head, a malicious mirth running through him. Strangely he finds himself oddly unaffected by his words, Minho's transparency nothing but pitiful in the light of day. "Your jealousy reeks. I'm sorry you're so fucking miserable that you can't stand seeing anyone else happy but your words mean nothing to me. You don't know shit about me or Changbin or our relationship. Believe whatever you want to make yourself feel better, I don't give a fuck. But keep your own fucking misfortune to yourself!"

Minho stares at him mockingly, face dimmed by the murky light above. Hyunjin wants to punch him right in the nose. "You're right Hwang. I'm soo jealous of you and your big strong boyfriend, I can't believe you get to spend your mornings cleaning up snot and I don't! How will I ever survive!"

"Right, 'cause getting high every night and dying alone is so much better," Hyunjin seethes, Minho nothing but a pathetic, destructive chip of loneliness in his wake.

Still fury becomes him, Felix's pale, lifeless face flashing before his eyes. "If you want to slowly kill yourself like that then fine, be my guest, but you didn't have to drag Felix along with you! Felix! When has he ever done anything bad to you or anyone?! He could've fucking died Minho!"

"First of all, get off your fucking high horse, junkie," Minho sneers, stepping closer to him as his voice drops to a lethal, spiteful tone. "If I remember correctly you used to be snorting coke off of Jinyoung's dick like there was no tomorrow."

He tilts his head then, a newfound sense of anger washing over him that Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever seen before, small, almost indecipherable traces of guilt brimming through his eyes.

"Second of all, Felix is not the fucking angel everybody thinks he is, he made the choice to relapse, he came to me screaming, crying, throwing things, begging me to give him drugs fully knowing the consequences. I tried to say no, I tried to kick him out of my apartment but you know just as well as I do how fucking crazy addicts get when they're desperate for a fix!" Minho points at him angrily then. "So don't barge in here blaming me when you would've done the same fucking thing!"

Hyunjin's face twists in disbelief, shock and indignation running through him. "No I wouldn't have because I fucking care about Felix! Don't act like you do, you clearly don't give a fuck!"

Irritation squeezes at his gut. The fucking audacity of trying to surrender any responsibility. "You could've called someone for help, you could've called his fucking sponsor, you could've given him something less dangerous like weed or a fucking drink! Don't try to turn this situation around, this is on you! You fucking selfish piece of shit!"

Minho stares at his heaving, rattled chest with the mask of carelessness slipping onto his face once again, eyes cold and vindictive as they burn holes into his chest. "Are you done now? Huh? If so, get the fuck out of my dressing room. Don't you have some lonely single dads to entertain right now or do you get enough of that at home?"

Hyunjin only scoffs, the anger within him seeping away and replacing itself with cruel, hardened pity instead. He shakes his head, Minho's spitefulness nothing but a reflection of his own empty, withering heart.

"Say whatever you want," Hyunjin steps right into his face, voice low and grating with all the wounding truths Minho tries so desperately to run away from. "You know deep down that you're going to live the rest of your life in the hollows of whatever fucked up conditions your mother created."

Minho's eye twitches, the clenching of his jaw sending thrills of satisfaction down Hyunjin's spine. "She sold you for crack because she knew it was the only thing you were good for, the only thing you would ever be good for, so you can say or think whatever you want, we both know that your misery and rage are the only things keeping you going."

Hyunjin tilts his head then, eyes painted over with a mocking, innocent sense of curiosity. "What do you have to live for, if not your own anger? Huh?"

Minho says nothing, only stares back into him frozen and cut as if wielded by something cold and bloodless. Hyunjin smirks, gratified at being able to hit each and every cord that Minho deserves before walking back toward the door, turning around one last time as he spits threateningly, "Next time stay the fuck away from Felix."

With one harsh, swift slam of the door, Hyunjin makes his way back down to the main area of the club, heart hammering viciously in his chest as he tries to get through the rest of the evening without letting his anger slip through. Somehow he manages, surprised almost at how Minho says nothing, simply ignores him throughout the following days to come.

Hyunjin is thankful, shooting him poorly contained glares whenever he catches sight of him but still Minho keeps his distance, pretending night after night that he doesn't exist. It's better that way, gives him more time to slowly begin to swallow his anger, the fear of losing Felix disappearing as soon as he arrives back to work, chipper and optimistic as always.

Hyunjin doesn't particularly want to talk about it, not good or used to divulging into his own feelings and yet Felix tells him that he's doing better, that it had been a slip up on a bad night that he wouldn't be repeating again.

Hyunjin doesn't know whether something had happened, an incident, a chain of thoughts to send him spiraling, but he decides to refrain from asking, overall just grateful that Felix seems to be doing better.

And, to appease some sort of underlying turmoil within him, he spends the next few days at Felix's apartment before they both head to the club, assisting rather confusedly with Felix's elaborate baking projects as they somehow manage to get through some rather unfortunate looking macarons. Still they taste delicious and neither Changbin nor Jia seem to mind when he brings them home for dessert.

Amidst the slow ascensions of the sunrise, Hyunjin feels a strange sense of murky shadows looming closely behind like a sharp tug at the strings within him - a brewing cloud in the distance, rainfall thick and heavy as it threatens to splatter. He can't explain it, doesn't know whether or not it is but his usual paranoia and yet something feels different. Certain, almost.

Hyunjin ignores it, his stomach clenching anxiously each night he goes to bed but it all withers away as soon as he buries his head into the nook of Changbin's neck, taking in his addictive scent and mulling it over and over again in his mind until he at last calms down.

Sleep befalls him easier then, his nightmares far gone as he lets himself for once succumb to dreamless midnight skies.

And yet Hyunjin supposes he should've known, should've known like he always does, that peace is nothing but an illusory fantasy for children, that shiny vessel of everything he'd always wanted - comfort, stability. Care. Some people are simply not carved for such luxuries.

Hyunjin thought he'd let go of that dream years ago and still it had all been brought back in the wake of firm, steady arms and innocent laughter that always echoes beneath the sun.

It's easy to forget, he thinks, when there is no one to remind you of the way in which you were born. No one but himself, but he's learned how to squash and throttle his own mind by now, to tune it out, let someone else take over it instead.

How foolish he'd been, thinking he could run away from the past, mold his flesh into something that didn't ache. After all, Hyunjin's never known much about the things that matter.

Minho does. Minho knows, had always seen right through him, had always seen him for what he was, for the dirt he bled. Hyunjin stares at him in a gnawing sense of foreboding, jaw clenching at the gleeful smile that had slithered onto his face the moment he came marching into his dressing room, expression self-righteous and malicious as always.

Felix stares between the two of them nervously, gently putting away the outfit he'd wanted to show Hyunjin as Minho's smile only continues to grow.

"What do you want?" Hyunjin grits, eyes steely and harsh beneath the low glow of the light above. Minho only looks at him sweetly, makeup dark and heavy as if having been cast straight out of the shadows. A parasitic, sharp-toothed bloodsucker, he thinks.

"Oh nothing," Minho replies happily, an unnerving edge to his voice as he fishes forth his phone, unlocking it with earnest as he searches for something. "Since you had so much to say about my mother the other day, I found this old picture of you. Thought it was adorable, so I wanted to show you."

Hyunjin's blood freezes the minute Minho holds up the screen, the familiar name of his step-father in the upper left corner punching him viciously in the gut, mouth dropping open, heart seizing in on itself entirely.

Hyunjin recognizes the photo immediately despite never having seen it before, his bashful, glimmering eyes staring up at the camera with a shy, nervous smile to his lips from the front seat of their old, rickety car. There's a small cupcake in his hand with a little candle on it, his birthday no doubt.

Yes, Hyunjin remembers, remembers his twelfth birthday despite wishing he could pluck away the memory and burn it to cinders in front of his eyes.

There's a caption too, one he wishes he could stop himself from reading before he does. Happy birthday to my sweet little dove. I hope you're doing well, wherever you are. Miss you. Posted three years ago, when he turned twenty-one.

Hyunjin can't help but stare at it, a sharp, tugging ache sinking into his stomach as he tries to rip his gaze away. He feels as if he's been hit in the face, shoved down onto the concrete only to blink back in shock, confused and unknowing of everything he's been taught in life - what to say, how to be.

Minho glances at the phone screen with a mocking sweetness, clearly satisfied by his dumbfounded reaction. "Look, aren't you cute in this? It's your birthday and everything."

"Where did you find that?" His voice sounds hollow, empty as he speaks, a slow, slithering bundle of terror beginning to unfurl within his gut. He feels a strange, stifling lump in his throat, the air around them turning cold and stale. He stares at Minho distantly, trying not to retch.

"Oh just did something digging, found this on FaceBook," Minho says it as if it's nothing, his smile making his stomach drop in coils of nausea. "What, it's sweet right?"

Felix only looks between the two of them anxiously, clearly sensing the foreboding dangers lingering in the air as he pleads rather insistently, "Minho-"

"Especially this nickname here, Dove," Minho cuts him off, ignoring him completely as he stares Hyunjin right in the eye. He thinks he can start to hear all the blood in his body rush to his ears, his fingers trembling and chest bristling with icy, slaughtering glaciers. "Such a pretty name...now wait a second. Didn't that used to be your stripper name?"

Hyunjin blinks at him, each hair on his neck standing up straight in terror as he wills his voice not to shake. "So?"

Minho tilts his head, a malicious glint lingering in his eyes. "Well I just think it's a little odd that your first stripper name was the same nickname your step-father gave you. Kind of telling."

"Telling of what?" Hyunjin can feel the slow budding of dread begin to seep into him, something vicious and cruel snaking its way out of Minho. He doesn't know what, doesn't know where he's going with this, but he knows it isn't good, knows it will only slice and wound him from the inside. "It's just a name."

Minho hums as if in deep thought, each curve and slope of his face making the blood within him start to pound irritatingly. "And yet, if I remember correctly, you freaked out when Jinyoung made you play the dove. Ruined the costume and everything. What was that about, huh? Scared he wouldn't be proud of you?"

Hyunjin's mouth drops open, face twisting in shock as anger plummets through his gut. "What?"

Minho only gives him a cruel, spiteful smirk. "Let me guess, real Daddy left when you were young and you spent your entire teenage years projecting lost affection onto the new one?"

Felix's eyes widen, his voice panicked as he speaks. "Minho-"

All the blood rushes straight to his head, his skull pulsating and grating with an influx of pain as he seethes, hysteria swelling in his chest. How dare he speak on things he knows nothing about, how dare he even mention his family! "You have no idea what you're talking about!"

Minho's smirk only widens, the copper light from above unfurling around his head wickedly. "Seems to me like I hit a nerve."

"I-" Hyunjin feels a frenzied, animalistic desire to hurt surge through him, interrupted only by the sudden swells of bile that boil up his throat. He refuses to gag, swallows harshly instead, the acid scorching and painful. "That's disgusting!"

"Don't worry, you're not the only one," Minho quips, tone sympathetic and understanding. Hyunjin can only watch his unraveling as if tipping over a piece of crystal in a china shop, each fragile vein of porcelain shattering to the ground like dominos. "A step-daddy fantasy is one of the most common porn categories I'm pretty sure."

"Fantasy?!" His eyes bulge, his stomach lurching as he tries not to topple over from the sudden pain that tunnels through him, a thousand scattered needles stabbing him from the inside.

"Minho stop it!" Felix stresses, face woven into agitation and alarm but Minho remains as relentless as always, still peering into him with snide, cutting mirth as if it gives him nothing but happiness to render him speechless and infested with illness. "Makes sense now why you like sleeping with older men like Jinyoung. Got a void to fill right?"

"Hyunjin let's go, seriously." Felix turns to him pleadingly, eyes big and determined but Hyunjin can but stare helplessly at Minho, each word that tumbles out of him like shards to cut him open and bleeding, a pungent, acrid taste exploding in his mouth. Hyunjin tries not to gag, a quick hand coming up to cover his lips.

"You know if you hit him up now, I'm sure he wouldn't mind fulfilling that fantasy," Minho jeers. "Now that you're all slutty and in stripper makeup."

"I don't have that fantasy, I would never- that's repulsive!" Despite how resentful his voice paints itself, he thinks they've become oddly tainted by a certain weakness, his face turning paler and paler with each uncomfortable beat of his heart.

"Really?" Minho looks at him doubtfully, raising an eyebrow as he tries not to smile. "Cause you look like you're gonna get sick."

"Don't listen to him," Felix begs but Hyunjin hardly hears him, rage and pain simmering through every crevice he still somehow has intact, finger thrusted aggressively Minho's way as he suppresses the urge not to fling himself onto him and punch his face until it becomes nothing but a mangled mess of blood and bones. "You're disgusting for even thinking that! You have no idea what you're talking about!"

Minho only laughs, the sound echoing ruthlessly around the room. "Is that why you're so angry all the time? Mad your step-daddy never returned your affections?"

"He-I-" Hyunjin stumbles, his breathing turning more and more panicked. Out of reach, he thinks. Maybe never really his to begin with. "Stop talking!" His lungs feel clogged, seconds away from collapsing. "You know nothing about our relationship!"

"You wouldn't be freaking out if it weren't true," Minho spits, but each word comes out fogged and distant to his ears, syllables coated in quicksand as they sink, sink, sink their way into him. "So what if you spent your teenage years fantasizing about your step-dad?" Hyunjin feels trapped, stuck. Sticky against the moth-eaten sheets of his childhood. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. "I say go for it and get it out of your system now so you can stop being such a massive cunt. Maybe he'll fuck it out of you."

There's never anywhere to hide. Not in the desert. Not in the gritty, imprinted sand of his skin. Stupid fucking Minho who knows nothing, stupid fucking people who never know anything!

"Minho!" Felix yells, face carved in desperate exasperation. Hyunjin's rage only thickens, wrapping themselves around him in poisonous veins. Stupid fucking people who will never know even the thinnest slivers of his pain, who will never breathe the dusty scatters of ruined childhood, who will talk and talk and talk and never say anything that matters, never say anything, anything!

How dare he, how dare spit such blasphemy in his face as if he was there, as if he lived and nestled himself into his bedroom night after night, threading himself into the inescapable sin of his flesh- Minho knows nothing, NOTHING!

His entire body shakes as he screams, all the wounds of his skin breaking open as their infestation renders the air spoilt and rotted. "I did not want that man to touch me, I never wanted that man to touch me, how dare you say that?!"

Everything turns silent then, Felix's eyes blown wide and horrified as something thick and choking slithers around them.

Even Minho seems taken aback, eyes flashing with something unreadable before he speaks, the sound of his voice like a pin dropping to the ground, prickling away his anger and replacing it with terror instead. "So he did touch you?"

Hyunjin's lungs clam up, mouth opening and closing as he stands there chipped away and exposed. No, no, no, no, no-

"I-That's not what I said!" He can't breathe, he can't breathe, the words tumble out of him like broken records. Jarring. Shredded. Hyunjin's vision spins, legs weak and numb as he struggles not to collapse. No, no, no, they can't know, they can't know, nobody can know! They can't, they can't, they can't-

"Hyunjin, let's go, seriously."

He breathes out shakily, panic scattered throughout his chest. Everything washes over him then, the clock ticking ticking ticking as he stares at it. Almost bedtime. Almost bedtime. He can't breathe, can't breathe, he can never breathe so close to the night.

His chest sputters, lungs constricting, stomach flaring in pain. His mother yells at him to stop. Get a grip. But he can't, he can't, he can't- "He didn't-I'm not...that's disgusting..."

His vision clears just slightly, Minho staring at him. Expressionless. Unfeeling. Hyunjin wonders how much agony it would take for his skin to come melting right off. The thought withers away. He still can't breathe.

"You're right, that is disgusting." Hook, line and sinker.

Hyunjin can feel the bile slithering up his throat before he can stop it, his body falling down onto the floor as he hunches over, vomit spilling pitifully from his mouth as he retches and retches.

The room echoes with nothing but the repulsive sound of his own sickness, his vision blurring with an inpour of unwilling tears as he suddenly feels someone crouch down beside him, the hand upon his shoulder making him flinch away with panic.

"Don't touch me!" He screams, panting erratically from where he sits, his eyes squeezed shut as he wills everything away, away, away, please, please, please go away, please, please-

"Jesus Christ, that man really fucked you up, didn't he?"

Hyunjin's mouth opens once more as vomit surges out, his chest burning and burning and burning as he refuses to open his eyes, refuses to see who had spoken, who had tried to touch him, only shakes his head in adamant refusal that no, no, no. Hyunjin's body begins to tremble. He isn't sure what he's even protesting.

"I'm sorry." The words filter in one ear and out the other, their strange, carved out rigidness foreign to his own understanding. He doesn't look up still, doesn't dare open his eyes to the bleeding world before him. "I was just trying to piss you off, I didn't actually think..."

"Minho, leave."

It's okay, he thinks. It's okay, it's okay. It isn't real, isn't real. Just another bad dream. Yes, that's right. He'll wake up any minute now, he'll wake up and it'll all be gone. He'll be someone else, someone better, someone lily-white and pure. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, bright spots scattering around. Someone young and brave, someone without bruises, someone without legs that are always sticky, sticky, sticky.

He stifles a sudden sob that clogs its way up his throat, digging the palms of his hand into his eyes so harshly until the pain begins to ground him. Shakily, he opens them, the fragmented pieces of the world piecing themselves together with each sluggish, aching second that passes.

Still something is wrong, wrong and tilted on its axis. Perhaps it's always been that way, perhaps he'd been unable to truly see it until now.

It's okay. Hyunjin isn't blinded anymore, doesn't bathe in the foolish waters of childishness, of wishing to be someone else. He knows he will never be, will never be anything but his own flesh and bones. Born rotted. Ripe before anyone else, petals shiny and begging to be ripped off.

He turns to the side, the chipped away pieces of Felix's face peering into him carefully. Guarded. Pitiful. Hyunjin doesn't care. Minho's gone, he realizes. It's okay. He doesn't care, doesn't care.

"Hyunjin, hey, it's okay," Felix says, gaze glassy and full of doubt. "Don't listen to Minho, he's just bitter and spiteful."

Hyunjin stares at the wall, that horrid, peeling paneling of wood. A sharp needle of hatred strikes him. Had it always looked so decayed? "I'm gonna...go for a walk..."

"No, come on," Felix insists, eyes wide and hopeful and yet all he sees reflected within them is the dirtied, sunken truth of his own rotted flesh. "Let's go do something together, something fun. You shouldn't be alone right now-"

"Felix." Hyunjin wants to rip them out, wants to pluck and pluck and pluck until the entire world is rendered ignorant and peaceful in their blindness. Hyunjin wishes he could run back to the safe shutting of his eyes, wonders if the diseases of his tastebuds would turn even more putrid still. Maybe life would have been better that way, eyes closed, head turned away. Like his mother.

Nausea welds into his bones. He feels sick. Sick and tired. Dirty, dirty boy. His head pounds, the ridges of his tongue coated in disease.

"We don't have to talk about it, we can just chill, rent a movie or something-"

"No." The bugs are back, small and scuttling, their sullied feet dancing along his wilting flesh. "I'm gonna go...for a walk." He knows he won't get rid of them, not this time no, knows that no amount of scratching and clawing will rid them of his bloodstream. "Please leave me alone."

"Hyunjin-"

The door slams shut on his way out, legs numb from the tightness of his shoes. He doesn't know what time it is, if his shift is even close to being over. He doesn't care. He isn't going home anyway.

 

-

Hyunjin doesn't like sitting outside on the porch, the wood uncomfortable and the sun unforgiving. Yet he still does it sometimes, when he doesn't want to go inside. There's a trail of ants close by and so he always draws his knees into his chest. He doesn't like bugs but ants are not that scary, he thinks. One time he'd seen a tarantula. He'd run quickly inside then.

There are a couple of bruises on his knees, ugly and dark. Like a plum. Or a raisin. One he'd gotten from scraping his skin against the gravel. Hyunjin traces them carefully with his finger. The other...Hyunjin stares at it for a while, the way it's smaller, the color blending in with hues of berries and lemons. He likes this one more, he thinks. It's kind of pretty. Like him. Hyunjin smiles.

The sky is unusual that day, gray and weathered. Heavy it seems, with teardrops ready to spill. It never rains in Arizona but Hyunjin doesn't like getting wet, so he rushes inside anyway. Luckily there's no one there, the house silent and eerie.

The chipped wood smells like dust and cinnamon. An empty home. Hyunjin hates the smell. More than anything the way it seeps and lingers into his clothes, his skin. He needs to change.

Hyunjin walks to his room, tip-toe, tip-toe. He doesn't want the walls to hear him. There's a mirror next to his bed, large and well-used. He likes it, always stares into it as he strips, fingers light and graceful when they move, delicate as he takes off his shirt, his pants. Like there's someone watching.

There is, he thinks. Even if he can't see them. He has to be pretty. Always. Cherries and rosewood. Pretty, pretty, pretty.

His underwear folds itself pleasantly against his tanned skin, a nice white like spilled salt upon the countertop. Yet his lips never stretch into a smile, no, they can't. There's a small rift, a rip in the lace. Hyunjin frowns, tugging them off frustratedly as he huffs and flings it to the floor. He hates being angry, yet it seems like it's all he is. He can't help it. He doesn't like things that are broken.

Through his wardrobe he finds another one, pretty and intact. He slides it up slowly, teasingly, a showbird spreading its wings. His walls are never empty, even though there's no one around.

The fabric stretches in black, inky ribbons. Like a spider, he thinks. Or the imprints of grease-stained hands. Rugged and well-used, formed to the touch of a wrench or a screwdriver. Of his pretty, bruised legs as he spreads them apart.

Hyunjin blinks, turning around as he admires the thin embroideries of his underwear, the nice slope of his neck, the color of his lips. In the mirror he looks good. In his eyes, he turns beautiful. In his own, not so much. Luckily, Hyunjin doesn't know much about anything. He trusts the words of minty, deep-rooted lips more than his own.

And so he drags up his jeans as sensually as he can, careful to leave them hanging low and enticing. His eyes flicker magnetically to the flower sprouting from his lower back. Had that always been there?

Hyunjin shakes his head, slipping on his shirt, fingernails scraping gently along the butterflies that dip into his waist. He must have drawn it sometime he doesn't remember. Silly kids. Always drawing whenever boredom strikes.

He watches as his feet tip-toe out of his house, grate against the concrete of the city. The lights are hypnotizing, the noises glaring. A jungle of winding, iridescent wings as they flap around in haste. Always in such a rush, running, running, running away from the winds that carry them. Hyunjin frowns, unsure of where they're going. How can they fly without the breeze they long to outlive?

His head tilts, mouth bitter with flavor. Powdery, white imprints cling onto his tongue, so nice, so pleasant. He sighs, neck drooping against the wall of the elevator as he counts each number that passes by. One, two, three. One, two, three. Again and again and again, spinning and spinning like the weaving of a cobweb.

Hyunjin understands. One has to be careful and precise when making its trap. Starvation is for the weak, after all. Mealtime is essential.

His knuckles knock on the door, the sound soft and timid as he stands there. Nervous, bashful. Hyunjin bites his lips, swaying gently back and forth on the balls of his feet. He hopes he looks good. He laughs a little then, shaking his head. He always looks good.

When the door swings open, Hyunjin doesn't know what to say. Jinyoung stares him swiftly up and down, eyes laced with the remnants of sleep. Aren't such rattled, restless souls always nocturnal? Hyunjin frowns. What time was it? Jinyoung gives him a small, slightly confused smile. "Hey."

He feels that deep tug of uncertainty brim through him. Hyunjin fiddles with his fingers for a while, his nails well-kept and graceful, yes, always beautiful, always beautiful. He doesn't know why he is so surprised. Glancing up, he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Why was he there again? "Can I-Can I come in?"

"Uh sure," Jinyoung says, making way for Hyunjin to follow him into the apartment. Hyunjin walks in, silent and careful. Tip-toe, tip-toe! His eyes melt in amazement, head craning around as his mouth drops open. Never before has he seen such luxuries, such grandness.

The windows stretch into the sky, the fireflies from below lighting up the deep, oil-spilled darkness of the city.

He touches the glass lightly, hypnotized, tilting, wondering what it would be like to step right into it, feel the burnt skin of his feet cut across the horizon. Would it hurt? Surely no more than the boiling sand outside the porch.

Maybe he should try it one day, when he makes it. He's never been to the big city before.

"Everything okay?"

Hyunjin spins around from the window, eyes following the sound of the voice with rapt, eager attention. He likes that voice. He giggles slightly at the skeptic gaze Jinyoung shoots him. Always so difficult to understand, he thinks. Especially here in the lustful shadows beneath the stage. Coming and going, never saying a word. Hyunjin wishes Jinyoung would speak to him, take him far, far away.

"You don't look too good." Hyunjin stares at the words as they stumble out of his mouth, traces their curves sluggishly. Delayed. It takes him a few seconds to fathom, to illustrate them neatly into his mind. He doesn't like them, he thinks, their patterns aching and unfamiliar.

Hyunjin frowns. He always looks good, radiant and shimmering, marigolds in the sunrise, gutted limbs on the bed. "You don't think I'm pretty?"

"That's not what I meant...you're very pale and your pupils are huge."

Hyunjin smiles, relieved. Grateful. Of course he was pretty. He wouldn't lie to him, not to his dove. Never to his dove.

"Hyunjin did you take something?"

He blinks, plucking each word one by one before arranging them into their bouquet of honeyed petals. That's why he was there, of course it was. Hyunjin remembers now, feet treading toward him eagerly, graceful and coy like a cat.

Jinyoung always gives him what he wants, can never resist his sweet, shimmery smile. Especially between the old sticky sheets of sandstone, Pueblo-styled motels. "Do you have coke?"

But Jinyoung's gaze turns stern then, his eyebrows furrowing harshly. "Aren't you supposed to be sober?"

"What?" Hyunjin pouts, eyes wide and glassy in confusion. Jinyoung always gives him what he wants. He deserves it after all, he's better than the rest, better than the rest of those ragged, frenzied wildcats. Sober? What is he talking about?

Hyunjin shakes his head. Jinyoung must be confused. He almost laughs then. Hyunjin is used to being the confused one. "No, no. Do you have it?"

"I'm not giving you coke."

Hyunjin bites his lip, blinking. Jinyoung's face looks just as he remembered, sharp and handsome. His fingers reach out to touch, careful to be gentle, careful to be nice. Be gentle, be gentle, that's what his teachers said. His mother never listened, hurling her shoe at each stray cat that prowled into their backyard. Hyunjin isn't used to seeing his face out of the dark.

Jinyoung sighs, the sound whistling into his ear. "I think you've already taken something, right? What was it?"

"Jinyoung," he sketches the name slowly upon his tongue, Jinyoung staring back at him expectantly.

Hyunjin shrinks beneath his gaze. He'd forgotten what he was supposed to say, but he has to say something yes, he has to open his mouth. When the teacher calls on you, you have to say something or else people will think you're stupid. They might even laugh, call you names. Hyunjin doesn't like it when they do that. "Can I...Can I sit on your couch?"

"Sure." Hyunjin smiles. Good, good. He'd answered correctly. "I'll get you some water okay?"

Hyunjin scrapes his nails across the fabric, his shadow woven into the couch as he sits down. The color is nice, ashen and smokey. Like small pebbles to kick away from the sand. He wonders if it tastes like it too, like the deep inhaling of his cigarettes through the night.

Across from him, in the darkness of the glass, he can see his reflection. Hyunjin stares, his body perfect and ready for the camera, poised and seductive.

A man joins him, sits down right next to him, exuding wafts of selfish need, of carnal, intrinsic bellows of hunger. His favorite smell, he thinks, his favorite flavor. Hyunjin gives him an inviting, deprived look of the eye, sharp and honed as he crawls his way over.

He knows what to do, of course he does. When the camera clicks on, when the walls are watching, when the ants begin to trail up his thigh - yes, Hyunjin always knows what to do.

"Want you." Breathy, tempting moans, chest pulsating with hot, coiling snares. Hyunjin arches his back, skin desperate for something to burn against it. "Want you to fuck me."

"Whoa." Hyunjin leans into the way the man's eyes widen, face slackening in surprise, mouth dropping open. He isn't surprised, almost laughs through his foggy vision. Everybody wants him, yes everybody, everybody. Fingers skim up his thigh, teeth digging into his lips - teasing and demure, the perfect shell of temptation.

"Fuck me hard," he pants, the words extra loud as he whines. For the camera, for the watchers. Hyunjin crawls into his lap, lips bleeding with the sin of his flesh. "Fuck me so hard I can't walk." Like this he's good, like this he's perfect. Perfect little dove, perfect little doll. He likes that word, he thinks. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It's his favorite. "Yeah, you want that right?"

"Stop, stop, stop." Harsh fingers circle his wrist, pushing him away. Hyunjin blinks, the boiling syrup in his chest beginning to rust. Is this part of the show? "Hyunjin, what the fuck are you doing?"

He laughs, the sound pretty and well-rehearsed. Silly, silly watchers, there's always someone playing so hard to get. "Mmh, don't you want to fuck me?" He teases, eyes glinting and irresistible. He knows how to get through to them, tilt them over the edge with the bewitching curve of his smile.

He doesn't mind a challenge, hands dragging down his chest. He's everything the desert taught him to be. Sensual. Mouth-watering. "I know you do. Everybody does. Don't be shyyy."

The man doesn't relent, staring at him strangely, eyes littered with small bugs threatening to crawl out. "Aren't you in a relationship?"

"What?" Hyunjin laughs, squeezing the word into the palm of his hand, its rotten pulp like acid as it trickles down his skin.

Such a peculiar, funny sound. Gooey beginnings in the backseat of a car, the smell of marijuana cascading down his head. The ache in his neck as it's shoved into leather. Nosebleeds, sore throats, boys his age. No, no. A few years older, he thinks. Relationship? "What are you talking about?"

"You're dating Changbin." That name...that name..."Remember?"

His heart throbs, spasms shooting up his spine. Hyunjin's head whips around, catches sight of himself in the glass window, fingers trembling as they latch onto the man's shirt. "No, no, no, don't tell him, don't tell him." Changbin's face twists in disgust, eyes wishing they'd never grazed over the backside of that book, his book, his legs, scared, pitiful schoolchild bared against the wall.

Bruises on his knees. One from falling down, the other from... Hyunjin's breath quickens, his bedroom door creaking open, slowly but surely, the sound loud against the stillness of the night. "He can't know what we did, he can't, he can't-"

"We haven't done anything, what are you talking about?"

Hyunjin's learned how to be quiet by now, a scared mouse running from corner to corner. Tip-toe, tip-toe. Yet the sound of his bed dipping is nothing but quiet, squeaks and shakes the whole house. And so he waits. And counts. Three o'clock, three o'clock, the red letters glare and glare through the darkness.

"Don't tell him, okay?" No one can know, no, no one can know. "Be a good boy and keep your mouth shut." It's God's plan, God's plan for them, yes it is, yes it is. "You wanna be a good boy right?"

"What?"

How dare he talk back! Doesn't he know to keep his mouth shut?! "Because you know what happens to rotten boys like you, you won't go to Heaven." He shakes his head, the claws of the Devil beginning to scrape the back of his head. "Nope, nope, you're going to hell!"

Blackened corners, embers that burn. Hyunjin doesn't wanna go there, no, no, no. He likes his room much better, likes his sheets. The walls, the ridges in the ceiling.

"So be quiet and don't tell anyone!" His skin in the mirror, the way his lips crack and weep. And so he sows them shut, stutters only through weakened breaths and pretty, pretty moans. "Especially your mom, you can't tell her, you can't. Be quiet and count to three instead, one, two, three, one two three..."

"Hyunjin, who are you talking to-"

"Can you keep a secret?" His body trembles, words stumbling out in broken whispers. He clutches onto his shirt, tighter, tighter. "You have to, or everyone will find out, find out what you did." His throat prickles, his tongue numb. How dare he sit there and say nothing, infuse himself night after night into the shadows like a beaten creature of the dark. Coward, coward, coward! "That you're disgusting!"

Wetness spills down his cheeks, fingers shaking. He shakes his head, wiping away his tears as he looks up pleadingly. He shouldn't cry, not in front of his birdkeeper, no, no, no. "But not me, no, because I can keep a secret." He's been good, yes he has. The best. Always the best. "I never told anyone, I promise." Liar, liar, liar!

Hyunjin sniffles, lips quivering as he speaks. "Only-only Bunny b-but Bunny is very good at keeping secrets too." Yes only Bunny knows, only Bunny and Hyunjin trusts Bunny more than anyone. Bunny won't tell. Bunny never tells.

"Aren't you proud?" He gives him a weak, watery smile. He hopes he's still pretty, even through his tears. "I was good right? I was a g-good dove, right?" He tries so hard, tries so hard to be good, so why won't he tell him?! Hyunjin sniffles, his heart aching. "Right?"

Nothing. Barren, endless roads of stillness. Hush-hush. Hyunjin's stomach drops, rage bursting inside his chest. He does everything, he does everything right, so how can his birdkeeper be quiet, how can he say nothing?! Did he do something wrong? No, no, Hyunjin is always the best, always! "Tell me!"

"Yes, you were very good."

"I know." Good. Good. Relief billows through him. He smiles sweetly, looping his arms around his neck. "I know, I w-would never disappoint you." He likes this, he thinks. It's better than being alone, alone and forgotten. Forgotten children are always ugly, ugly, ugly. Not him, no. He isn't like that. "Always good...always pretty...the prettiest. You think I'm the prettiest don't you Daddy?"

His hands are pushed away, body stumbling out of his lap. Hyunjin blinks rapidly in confusion. "Okay Hyunjin you are seriously starting to freak me out here, you have never called me that before-"

"Don't you?!" Vicious, barbed wire prickles him from the inside, boiling water spilling out in blisters all over his skin. He wishes he could shove him into the concrete, wishes he could kick and kick and kick away the blood that comes leaking from his head.

"You- you ruined my life!" Wishes he could scream, wishes he could claw and fight and hit, hit, hit. "You ruined everything, I hate you!" Hyunjin wishes he could say no. "I hate you!" The word always withers on the tip of his tongue.

He gets off the couch, that man, that wretched, wretched man. Hyunjin wants to hurt him, wants to hurt him the way he himself aches and aches into the deep of nightfall. How can he show his face again after everything he did, how can he still linger and haunt him through each agonizing sunset?!

His legs wobble as they stand, fingers threatening to break. Smooth, frosty glass dances against the palm of his hands, anger burrowing its way into his chest like hardened edges of rock. Making his home, nesting and nesting. Biding its time. No longer, no, he's tired of always waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Quiet, quiet, quiet. Like a mouse, like a mouse, like a squeaking, trapped little mouse-

The sound of glass echoes through the room, shards spilling from the wall in which they'd hit. Hyunjin stills, limbs frozen, heart racing. Wide eyes stare into him, pearly and shocked. Terrified. Guilt seizes him immediately.

"Okay Hyunjin, calm down!" Tears well in his eyes, a sob wracking through him. "Calm down! I'm gonna call someone-"

"I'm sorry," he cries, his stomach lurching. Now he's been bad. Bad, bad, bad. Fingernails dig into his skin, tearing into his flesh. No, no, no. "I don't hate you...I'm sorry Daddy, please." Hyunjin hates being bad, he hates it, he hates it! "Please forgive me." He didn't mean to, he swears he didn't! Hyunjin sniffles, wiping away his tears as he glances up pleadingly. "I'll make it up to you I promise."

Yes, Hyunjin knows how to make things better, he always does. Satin, black lace. Soft to the touch, easy to rip. His jeans pool by his legs as he kicks them away. He spins around enticingly, fingers skimming the pretty fabric, skin lean and smooth. Always so smooth, smooth and shiny.

"Dear God, Hyunjin put your pants back on!"

"Do you like it?" He smiles, eyes wide and demure. Captivating and ripe, the sweetest pit of the cherry. "My prettiest underwear just for you-"

"I'm calling Changbin."

"Changbin?" Hyunjin's face falls, his heart dropping to the pits of his stomach. The one thing he'd done right, the only thing he has - Hyunjin's hands begin to shake, feet stumbling as they walk toward him. He can't lose him, he can't!

"No, no, no, don't tell him!" He pleads, lips begging, begging, begging for things he doesn't deserve. "You can't tell him, please don't tell him, he's gonna leave me. He can't know, he can't know." Knees hit the floor with a sharp thud, hands clutching onto the legs in front of him.

Hyunjin thinks he can see Jinyoung's face clearly for the first time, his neck craning up to stare at him with all the desperation of his tear-streaked eyes. Changbin can't know, he can't, he can't!

"Don't tell him please," he whispers, the sound echoing with all its curses between them.

"Hyunjin." Hyunjin looks up at him meekly, the grip around his leg tightening. He doesn't want to let go, please don't make him let go. "What did you take?"

He sniffles, salt spilling down his cheeks. He doesn't want to get scolded no, not again, not again. He tries to think, tries to trace the outline of his sins. Something green flashes in his vision, the smell of liquor wafting through the air. Low, pounding lights. Worn-out doors and faded stickers. "A pill."

Jinyoung nods. Good, that's good. Hyunjin hates giving the wrong answers. "Okay, do you know what kind of pill?"

White. Small. The taste sharp and bitter on his tongue. Hyunjin shakes his head, sniffling once again. "Where's the coke?"

He stands up, legs wobbly and weak as he leans into Jinyoung. He remembers now, why he's there. But Jinyoung's face turns harsh and stern, angry, angry, angry. Hyunjin frowns. What did he do?

"I'm not giving you coke."

His mouth drops open, blood rushing to his ears. "But-but that's our deal!" Jinyoung's a liar, a liar! "I let you fuck me and you give me coke, so where the fuck is it?!" Why is he hiding it, why is he keeping things from him?

Hyunjin knows it's here somewhere, yes it has to be. It's been there before, so why won't he give it to him now?! Maybe it's in the kitchen, yes maybe behind one of the boxes of food, no, no, no, not that one, not this one either-

"Get your hands off me!" Strong arms imprint themselves around his waist, lifting him away from the cupboards as Hyunjin tries to wrench free. Where is it?! Where the fuck is it?! "Give me the fucking coke!"

Hyunjin screams, weightless and heavy all at the same time. The door only comes closer and closer, the cedarwood of the handle hard enough to leave bruises should he crash right into it and yet he doesn't. The hand opens it instead. Hyunjin thrashes through the tight ropes of his grip, voice raw and in tatters. He needs to put him down, needs to put him down!

Bedsheets smother him painfully, muffling his sound. Hyunjin's heart panics, the soft, silky fabric like water to drown him in. What is he doing here? He doesn't remember going to bed. And yet he sees...like he always does...upon the sweeps of blue before him, legs, bare. Hairless, soft. Hyunjin traces them with his finger, up, up, up...the midnight fabric of his underwear twirls between his clasp. Oh. That's why he's there. It's okay. He knows what to do then.

"I'm calling Changbin and he's gonna come and get you-"

"No!" His head whips up, eyes wide as his heart begins to shake. "No you can't call Changbin!"

Doesn't he know that, doesn't he know that Changbin can't find out?! But the man by the door only stares back at him. Says nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Tears well in his eyes, desperation clawing at his gut. There's something in his hand, he thinks. Yes, Hyunjin sees it. A phone.

His legs are weak and spindly as he runs, fingers stretching and stretching through the thick air between them. He needs to get that phone, he has to! But the man is stronger, forcing and shoving him back. There's always someone stronger, burlier and with meaner, yellowed smiles. Hyunjin tip-toes around them in the schoolyard, like a mouse. Like a bug. Careful not to get caught.

This time he is, the mouse-trap wrangling him back onto the bed. But Hyunjin doesn't like the pain of getting caught and so he thrashes and claws and hits, hits, hits.

"Jesus!"

Why won't he get off, why won't he go? Hyunjin sobs, his arms aching, his heart numb. Harsh hands hold him down, a sweaty, frenzied face staring at him from above. Hyunjin doesn't want to fight. He knows he isn't going to win anyway.

"He's gonna leave me." Pitiful, cracked-out whispers. He can't tell whether it's his own voice or if it's coming from somewhere else. His body slumps, bones tired as they sink. The arms around him slip away, carefully, carefully. Afraid of what, he isn't so sure. He thinks he can taste the salt of his wounds as they trickle down his mouth. "He's gonna leave me, I know it, he's gonna leave, he's gonna leave-"

"Okay then I'm calling Felix." The man above him turns a bit nicer, but only slightly. Hyunjin doesn't recognize him, not with all those shadows threading across his face. One of his watchers, he thinks. Ready and cunning with their butterfly net. "Is that better?"

Hyunjin sniffles, raindrops rippling through his head. Felix...Felix...light, yellow hair...halos of daffodils...the Sun, he thinks...the scorching, inescapable sun that had burned and burned and burned him to pieces not long ago. Only the Moon knew his secrets. Now the Sun knows them too.

"No, no, no...." Talons rip through his throat, his lungs heavy and bruised through each breath. "Felix knows, he knows! You can't call him..."

The man starts to wilt, his face melting from the side. Confused. At sea. The waves are bigger now, the foam leaking into the drain. "Knows what?"

A test. It has to be. Of course he knows, of course he knows! There's only one birdkeeper, isn't there?! Why is he pretending like he's someone else, like he doesn't recognize him anymore?!

A sob trembles out in shards of pain, his chest compressed from the force of the sky. Maybe he doesn't recognize him, maybe the youthful wings of his flesh have turned too mangled and withered for anyone to recognize?

Then he leaves, that man. That wretched, wretched man. How dare he leave him alone to decay in his cocoon?! Tears wash away his face in streams of anger, his fist hurling and creaking against the door. Bang, bang, bang. It won't open, won't open.

"Let me out!" His knuckles turn raw from the trap, bloodied and ghastly. "Let me out!" Blood isn't pretty, he thinks. Not like this, not from his hands. "I fucking hate you!" Sometimes it drips between his legs. Drip, drop, drip, drop. Like a leaky, grating faucet. "Why would you do this to me?!" That was long ago, he thinks. Before he got used to the pain. "You're a monster, a monster!"

Still his mother won't open. She never does, not when he's like this, screaming and crying. Being a child. A rotten, whiny child. Hyunjin stops, cradling his aching hand as he retreats to the foot of his bed. Knees drawn up, tears folding nicely.

He sniffles, head resting upon his knees. He can't see the bruises anymore. They have must have gone away, seeped back into the sand outside. He feels strangely sad at the thought. Lonely, he thinks.

But Hyunjin is used to being lonely, especially here in the cracks of his bedroom. Not during the night, no. Hyunjin is never lonely in the dark but he can't tell what time it is now...he doesn't like the day, detests the sun.

His floorboards always fill with dust and then he has to crawl beneath the bed to get rid of it. Hyunjin hates it, hates getting dirty. But he can't stand the thought of all the germs and particles, so he does it anyway. Hyunjin's become good at doing things he hates.

The dishes. Homework. Staying awake. Being hungry. Counting, counting, counting. Sometimes he has to count all the things that he is or else he might forget. Nervous, Angry, Sad. No, he doesn't like those words, has to change them with something else. Whore, Stripper, Child. Hyunjin frowns. He's never been a child.

He scratches the top of his knee gently, watches as his fingernail scrapes in soothing lines, back and forth, back and forth. Dove. He dips his finger down his leg, traces the faded imprints of his scar. Lily. It had been so long since it had been there, but Hyunjin remembers...remembers the pain of the blade as he had pressed it down. He got rid of the bugs...didn't he? Maybe there's one left...one more...hiding...hiding...the Butterfly...

The door swings open, his limbs flinching as he stares up. "Hey, Hyunjin." He recognizes him, recognizes the pity, the deep, deep disgust that had swirled in those eyes. He knows, he knows. "It's me, Felix."

"Go away." He has no right, no right to barge into his room! "Go away!"

Felix crouches down, inching his way closer. There's a careful smile on his face. Hyunjin doesn't know what it means. "You don't need to scream at me, okay?"

Hyunjin doesn't say anything, only blinks away the tides of his vision. He doesn't trust him, no, he doesn't trust him. He never trusts anyone of those alley cats, he can't, he can't!

"Do you know what day it is?"

Hyunjin gnaws on his bottom lips, he doesn't. He doesn't! He never knows, never knows. He doesn't want to get laughed at. Not again, no, not again. Meekly, he shakes his head, neck dropping down to stare at his lap. He doesn't want to see the others laughing at him. Stupid Hyunjin. Never knows anything.

Then, a deeper, different voice cuts through the air. "I think we should call 911."

"No!" Hyunjin's head turns back up again, pleading, pleading, pleading to Jinyoung through the murky fog around them. It's a secret! A secret! Why does he want to call?! "No, don't call, don't call-"

"Okay nobody's gonna call," Felix speaks this time. Soothing. Comforting. Hyunjin stops yelling, shoulders slumping as he peers into him. His eyes are big, big and round and scattered with things he doesn't understand. "Why don't you put your clothes back on, huh?" How much had they seen? As much as his walls? The bugs? "Here I'll help you."

A sudden hand grazes his leg, his hand flinging down to swat it away. "Don't fucking touch me!" The hand retreats, swift and panicked as if stung. Hyunjin stares at it with disdain, loathing bubbling up his throat. Everybody always needs to touch, touch, touch! Aren't his own scraping fingernails enough? How much blood would he need to shed for them to go away?!

"I'm sorry."

Hyunjin follows the words as they stumble through the room. Why is Felix sorry? Hyunjin frowns, staring into him. The world feels smaller with just the two of them, like the walls are closing in.

How long until he has to go on stage? His eyes flicker to the side. There's no clock. He doesn't know...he was just about to until...someone had interrupted him...

"What Minho said...it-" his voice breaks, chipped away into sunken cries, "...it wasn't true..."

He sniffles, hands wiping, wiping, wiping at the flood that never ends. Felix looks at him kindly. "Okay." Hyunjin sobs. He doesn't deserve it. "I believe you."

Hyunjin knows Felix is lying. It's a sin to lie. He doesn't even believe it himself. Weeps fill the room, childish wails of a lamb in the slaughterhouse. "I didn't-I didn't want-"

"Hyunjin, it's okay." Felix's hands brush against his jaw, holding his face like a fragile, destructive pieces of glass. His cries quiet down, Felix cradling his pain with the tips of his fingers. "It's okay." Just for a while. Just for a while. "Let's get you to bed." He hopes he takes good care of it, doesn't let it go. "You're tired right?"

Tired. Yes. Hyunjin nods. He's so, so tired. The earth moves so slowly when he's tired. His feet can never catch up.

"Wanna go to sleep?"

"I can't." Not yet, not yet. "Have to wait." Red letters flash through the dark. He has to wait, has to wait for the skin of the apple. "Till 3AM." For the lacewing, rubied and fluttering. Away, away, away into the night.

"It's past 3AM now, you can sleep okay?"

Hyunjin stares at him, at those polished eyes of the sun. He doesn't know whether to trust him. The desert has tricked him before.

"Really?"

He nods. Yes, he says. Really. Okay then. Okay.

The bed is soft as he lies down, the mattress sinking with all the weight of his bones. Hyunjin stares at the ceiling. He doesn't know for how long. He doesn't count. Not when the world begins to tilt, not when the skies thread themselves with the color of his veins. The imprints of his bruises, the outline of his heart. He can see it, he thinks. Branded on his eyes. Slow. Beating. Weak and exhausted.

Hyunjin opens his mouth, just a bit, just enough for the air to flow through, for the smoke to filter out. It looks ugly, his heart. Abused and sick. He wishes he could carve it out of his chest, give it to someone else, let it rest in the clasp of something that didn't hurt so much.

Still, Hyunjin thinks. He keeps it selfishly to himself. Locked away and guarded, he's starting to get fond of the soul for which it thrums.

Notes:

😬😬😬

everything is finally coming out into the light, whether hyunjin is ready for it or not. he needs to confront his past one way or another 😭 i’m sorry for making him suffer so much

see you next thursday 💕 thank you for reading!!

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 20: Drops of Sun, Floods of Rain

The first thing he recognizes with the emergence of the sun, is pain.

It always is, he thinks, having drawn the back of an ache too deep for as long as he can remember. Hyunjin's mouth feels dusty and forgotten, a dark, locked-up room that hasn't been cleaned in months.

His eyes blink open slowly through the haze of the daylight, small streams filtering through the gap beneath the thick, velvet curtains. His head pounds, muscles well-oiled with soreness.

There's someone next to him, in the bed, their limbs docile and asleep between the sheets. Hyunjin blinks, his neck craning rapidly around the room as he tries to adjust to his surroundings.

Somehow he knows where he is without it ever fully registering, bewilderment and agony thrumming through as small trickles of his memory begin to stir. He's in Jinyoung's room with Felix sleeping next to him...

Hyunjin stares down at him for a while, mouth parted slightly open, nose twitching every now and then from some dream no doubt. Faded mosaics from the night before chip jarringly back into place with the same scatters of Felix's freckles - everywhere, everywhere and yet disconnected all the same.

He doesn't remember much...only the thudding bassline of some shitty club, his knees hitting the dirtied bathroom floor as a pill coats his tongue...he remembers tears. Lots of them.

Hyunjin swallows, guilt erupting inside his stomach as he scrambles away from the bed, though it does nothing to help placate his nerves as soon as he looks down. No pants...his wrists bruised and aching.

His eyes flicker back to Felix, all his clothes still thankfully in place. Relief streams through him just slightly then, his fingers tugging up his discarded jeans in the corner with great strain seeping through his muscles.

Feeling as though he's been brought back from the dead, Hyunjin makes his way tentatively out of the bedroom, the large stretch of the living room and kitchen expanding in front of him as if having been designed solely to intimidate. The floorboards are cold against his bare feet, the sky from outside the large glass window bleak and gray. Heavy with the promise of rain.

Hyunjin looks at it for a few seconds, eyes unmoving and unblinking as if hypnotized. It hardly rains in the desert and yet the ashen streaks of the sky are unmistakable. He bites his lip nervously, never having known how to prepare for the storm. Eventually he manages to rip his gaze away, turning back to the kitchen, limbs freezing to find Jinyoung already there and staring at him.

Even though he doesn't remember much, guilt immediately thickens in his gut. He looks back anxiously, Jinyoung appearing more weary and exhausted than anything.

"Morning kiddo," he says, his lips tugging upward as he raises an eyebrow.

Hyunjin smiles back weakly. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

Jinyoung only hums, turning around to start finding a few mugs placed in his cupboard. "Coffee?"

Hyunjin leans across the counter then, all the energy in him drained to murky, thinned-out puddles. "Please."

Jinyoung nods before turning on some expensive, shiny looking machine, giving him a guarded, yet worried look as he does so. "How you feelin'?"

His head gives a deep, sudden throb, the muscles in his neck twinging in pain. "Like shit."

Jinyoung stares at him as if already having expected such an answer, filling up a glass of water and giving it to him immediately. Hyunjin accepts it, timid and grateful despite it all. "I don't remember anything."

"Maybe it's better that way," Jinyoung sighs, handing him the coffee mug at last, the warmth soothing the strain of his bones just slightly.

He gnaws anxiously on his bottom lip, gaze zeroed in on the murky puddles of brown in his cup, its darkness smooth enough to reflect within it the pearly whiteness of his eyes. Hesitant, he looks back up, an incessant stampede of scuttling feet gnawing at the back of his mind.

"We didn't...I mean, uh...why is Felix here?" He thinks reluctantly of his bare, bruised legs, an airy, humorless laugh emitting through him. "Did we have a threesome or something?"

"Sadly no." Jinyoung gives him an amused, yet weakened smile, relief hardly prickling through him at all. "You really don't remember?"

Hyunjin frowns, forehead creasing with each ripple of color that suddenly billows through his skull. "I remember freaking out," he admits, voice low and coated with shame. "And crying."

Jinyoung nods, the weight with which his head hangs heavy and tired. "That pretty much sums it up."

Hyunjin only stares, not knowing what he's supposed to feel, not knowing how to reach within his mind to pluck out everything he needs. Not that he particularly wants to, he thinks.

A sudden pain flares through his chest then, bursts of acid coating his tongue as his eyes bulge, a hand covering his mouth immediately as he tries not to gag. Like a chip too big falling back into its place, Minho's face flickers through his head, fiery snares squeezing his insides as they pull him down, down, down.

His eyes feel as if about to pop, something heavy and unreal compressing his chest in sheets of horror, gaze flickering back up to Jinyoung frozen and paralyzed. Jinyoung seems to understand that with the tilt of his head comes the tilt of the world, jaw settling into curves hardened and grim. "It's coming back to you, huh?"

Hyunjin shakes, fingers trembling as they falter from the mug, breaths escaping him pitifully with each leaden second that passes. "I...I can't..."

Jinyoung steps out from behind the kitchen counter, walking closer to him as a gentle yet solemn expression falls across his face. "Let's sit outside for a bit, yeah?"

Hyunjin swallows, throat burning from the unshed remnants of bile as his eyes scatter over to the windows, the sky so bleak and heavy it gleams almost white from behind the glass. A foggy, indiscernible landscape to get lost in.

"But it's raining," he says, eyes glassy and wide as they turn back to stare up at Jinyoung. It isn't much of an excuse, but Hyunjin's never really been good at knowing what to say.

"There's an overhang," Jinyoung reassures him, determination laced within his voice. "You won't get wet."

Hyunjin only stares at him for a while, an overwhelming urge to submit, to let someone lead him into paths unknown course through him. Pitifully he yields to Jinyoung's steadfast gaze, a puny child too frightened to cross the road on its own. "Okay."

Jinyoung smiles, walking over to the glass doors as he slides them open, the balcony large and overwatching the world from where they sit, heavy raindrops clattering against the concrete below, the distance too great and infused with thick haze for him to see.

Shivering slightly, Jinyoung hands him a woolen blanket, his fingers nimble as they accept it and carefully drape it around his shoulders.

For a while neither of them say anything, only stare as if hypnotized into the sound of falling water as it cascades down from the heavens right in front of them.

It would be easy to lean out over the railing, feel their wetness blend in with the relief of unshed tears. Still Hyunjin remains firmly seated in the chair, wrapping the blanket tighter around him as he tries not to let his mind sludge into unwanted trails.

Hyunjin can feel Jinyoung's gaze on him before he cranes his neck to confirm it, eyes dense and simmering with things that can only hurt. Hyunjin swallows, fingers fidgeting immediately as he awaits the steady doom of yesterday.

Jinyoung sighs then, frustration and pain riddled throughout his voice. "Look, we don't have to talk about last night if you don't want to. I get it, but...you've got to start taking care of yourself. I mean seriously, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin only blinks, confused, surprised at the harshness with which he speaks. Jinyoung's eyes flicker with something unknown, the depth with which they glisten too far out of his reach, undiluted and thick with condensation.

"You may not realize it, but you're not only hurting yourself you know." The rain patters against the railing in heavy, rich pelts. "You're hurting the people who care about you." Jinyoung turns to look at them then, those grains of soiled water. "Seeing you like that...not only is it terrifying as fuck, but it really fucking hurts." Hyunjin can't, he thinks, can't crane his neck to turn back up into the heavens, gaze carved as if from stone upon the man before him.

Jinyoung's mouth thins, a fathomless jolt coursing through his body as soon as eye contact befalls them once more. "I don't want to sound like an asshole here but somebody has to tell you. I get not wanting to talk about your feelings and shit but you can't keep burying it inside of you thinking that your pain only affects you."

Hyunjin can but stare, stare, stare, words for once filtering through his ears not as if carried by the wind or caught in the swelters of quicksand. This time he catches them all, slowly and clearly, each sound coated in pain and gratitude.

"Because when you do shit like last night, you're taking it out on everyone else as well. Me, Felix. Changbin, who you refused to let me contact and who's been calling me non-stop all night because he's worried sick about you."

Hyunjin's heart thrums in sudden agony, limbs draped in a deep, all-consuming longing as Changbin's face shimmers in misty streaks throughout his mind. The first thing he feels is a cavernous desire to run straight back to his apartment, bury himself into the nook of his neck as he lets the familiar smell of comfort wash over him; lull him back to quietude.

Then, like the dawning of each blood-curling horizon, horror strikes him whole, spine tingling in shivers, fingers trembling in currents. For a moment he'd forgotten who he was. Minho's words echo in his head in horrible reminders.

Hyunjin's lower lip quivers, eyes wide and glassy as he looks up at Jinyoung. He tries to keep his feelings at bay, reeling them in with all the weakened snares still left within. "What did you say?"

"I told him you needed some space and that I was handling it," Jinyoung says, "but you've got to talk to him, Hyunjin. Seriously." He gives him a pointed, insistent gaze. "I know you think running away from everyone is being helpful, but it isn't. It's being selfish."

Hyunjin looks down at his lap then, drawing his knees to his chest as he pulls the blanket tighter around him. Shame trickles through as it paints his voice meekly. "I never thought about it like that."

Jinyoung sighs, the sound laced with a heavy, dragging sadness. "Of course you haven't because you think you know people better than they know themselves. You think you can dictate or manipulate how other people feel about you."

Hyunjin gnaws on his lips, fingers fiddling anxiously with each other as he mulls each word over and over again in his mind. "You've already decided in your head what someone thinks of you before you even meet them. People care about you. Genuinely. It isn't up for you to decide whether they do or not."

Jinyoung shakes his head then, frustration seeping through as his exhales tumble out in bitterness. "See, this is why I don't fucking get close to people."

"I'm sorry," Hyunjin mutters, stomach pooling in ropes of guilt. Still with the firmness of Jinyoung's voice does doubt spiral through his mind, detached, almost foreign in their meaning from how steadfastly they resound.

He doesn't understand, doesn't think he ever will and yet for a moment he appreciates Jinyoung's candor, hopes he can one day lean into it the way he leans into every lie whispered his way in the murky haze of thick, artificial lights.

"I know you are," Jinyoung says, appearing a little withheld as if suddenly guilty. "I don't mean to be harsh."

Hyunjin stares at his face then, engraves every little curve and slope into the tissues of his mind as Felix's words from so long ago flash through his veins. He doesn't know what possesses him then, the question slipping past his lips before he gets the chance to strangle it. "Did you...did you ever like me? I mean...for something more than just sex?"

Hyunjin peers at him nervously, Jinyoung twisting as if slightly caught off guard, eyebrows furrowed in a deep sense of something difficult to make out through the dark of night. "You're asking difficult questions now. Did I care about you? Of course. Did I like you? Sure. You mean did I have feelings for you?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin bites at his nail anxiously, an unknown sense of yearning tugging at his gut. For the first time he wants to know, wants to stare truth in its eye without running away on his withered, coarse feet. "It's just...sometimes I got the sense that you did."

Jinyoung sighs then, an air of gravity shrouding his every breath. "You're very special Hyunjin. You always have been, since the moment I saw you. You have a certain way of moving, of speaking, a certain essence that commands your attention. I think you think you know that, but I'm not sure you really understand it."

He looks into him resolutely, sincerity straining each word. "You have this charm, this allure that knows exactly how to captivate and I think what makes you so enchanting is that you're very good at giving without losing that glamor. Most people, when they bleed themselves dry, they lose their appeal and everything that made them interesting, but you?" Jinyoung smiles, the curve of his lips coated in something unknown.

"You give and give and give without ever revealing who you are, without ever letting anyone see the force behind the way you dance, your smile, that little glint in your eyes. You carry with you the enticement of a secret and the fascination of a mystery. So, can you have feelings for something that isn't quite real nor fake?" He shrugs then, Hyunjin's eyes wide as he listens. "Maybe yes. I don't know."

Jinyoung clicks his tongue, head tilting to the side as he continues to gaze into him. "In the end I don't see how it matters. I don't really do relationships. I just...I don't believe in them. For myself I mean. I've found that once you truly get to know someone, you always end up disappointed. Or disappointing someone else."

The rain slows into a sluggish halt, the momentary stretch between each patter growing longer and longer from where they sit. "The temptation of that mystery withers away and everything becomes...well, bleak. I prefer to live my life having fun, not caring what other people think, not having to carry with me the constant fear of not living up to someone else's expectations."

The sky rids itself of its ashen wake, turns white and blinding instead. Ghostly. "When you don't get too close to someone, you can always know them as the beauty that they had and not the eyesore they become. Your memory of them will remain untainted and you're blessed with the rarity of holding onto something perfect. Even if it's just in your head."

Hyunjin's eyes flicker down to the balcony floor for a second, uncertain of how Jinyoung's words are meant to pass through him. He'd never thought of it like that, of Changbin's chipped off pieces one day falling out of place. The idea seems strange, unthinkable even.

Jinyoung seems to notice his sudden doubt, sending him a small, soft smile, a knowing glint twinkling in his gaze. "Now I'm not saying this is going to happen to you. I'm not saying that I would even come to think of you as anything less than what you were in my memory. On the contrary, actually. Maybe that is the most terrifying matter of it all."

Jinyoung turns away then, head staring out into the vast blankness, something indecipherable and heavy oiling the cogs in his brain. When he turns back to look at him Hyunjin feels as if he's never truly seen him in the clear day of light until that very moment. "I think in some other place, in some other universe, I could have loved you."

For some reason the words strike within him no sense of surprise or doubt at all. Hyunjin understands he thinks, things he never has before. "Maybe if I wasn't so impatient and restless and you weren't so stubborn and disconnected from your self, maybe then I could say with a certain confidence and grief that I had feelings for you."

A dense weight lingers in the footprints of Jinyoung's gaze. Hyunjin grabs onto it with a sense of captivation, barreling forward in life uninterested in being trapped to the past. "In the end I'm not the type of person that wants to change."

Still he doesn't know what to say. Jinyoung regards him as if being able to see right through him, skin nothing but transparent glass to tilt over with the edge of your finger. He's grateful then, that Jinyoung hasn't.

A sudden shiver runs through him right before Jinyoung speaks, the lack of sun turning the morning air cold and bleary as he wishes back for the familiar harshness of the desert. "I think we could all benefit from not constantly trying to make things out to be more or less than what they actually are. You've outgrown me, simply. And I'm horrible at catching up to people."

Hyunjin simply stares at him, the cotton white of the sky casting his face in streaks of salt. Hyunjin can taste them he thinks, as they threaten to spill down his cheeks. Hastily he wipes them away, peering up at Jinyoung with all the sincerity he can muster, uncertain really of what he's supposed to feel. If he's even supposed to feel anything at all.

He thinks of his words as they filter through his mind crystalline and clear-cut, imagines with a certain amusement thrumming through the idea of him and Jinyoung entangled together in another life. In the end, Hyunjin thinks he's right, the toiled world too used to sketching out outlines better left blurred.

"I've never thought about it like that...," he starts, fingers still fiddling anxiously with each other as he forces his lower lip not to tremble. "I'm so sorry for everything." Flashes of yesterday trickle yet again into his mind, sounds of strangled cries and shattering glass reverberating inside his head with a vicious echo.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for getting high and coming to your apartment, I'm sorry for yelling at you, for breaking things, for forcing you to take care of me like that." His voice sounds stifled as he speaks, yet ridden with enough guilt and shame for Jinyoung to latch onto. Hyunjin shivers, hands clutching tighter and tighter onto the blanket as he tries not to fall victim to the lethal clasp of his brain. "I'm just...I don't know how to live. How to be."

Jinyoung looks at him heavily for a while, taking in each dent and arch of his sorrows as he lets out a dense, leaden sound, eyes flickering momentarily down to the floor before landing back upon him.

Hyunjin's stomach fills itself with something uncomfortable, that all-knowing gaze boring into him more resolutely than ever and yet...Hyunjin swallows, for once not longing to look away.

"Hyunjin..." he starts, a deep sense of concern woven into him. "I don't know what happened to you or what you've had to overcome all these years. Your entire life, I assume. I'll never understand, no one will ever understand, no one will ever have lived inside the skin of your hurt."

Hyunjin blinks, listening intently as he scrapes his nails against his forearm absentmindedly, desperate for anything to ground him with.

Jinyoung notices it, Hyunjin knows he does, the way his eyes soften and mull over with something that aches. "When you scratch a rash, all it does is itch even more - I get it, I really do." Hyunjin pinches himself, blinking, blinking, blinking away the wetness that fogs up his vision.

"And so you try not to scratch it, you try to ignore it entirely but how are you supposed to do that when it's constantly there, itching and itching and driving you crazy? So...the natural response of course, is forcing yourself to forget it's there. Drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever."

Something pained flashes through Jinyoung for a second, its arrival as fleeting as its goodbye. Still he continues, gazing into him with all the earnest he carries. "But memories always come back in the end and you remember its puny, horrible existence. Like some flea. And again it starts to itch. So you force yourself to forget again and again and again, hoping that one day you'll just get amnesia. And hey, if you happen to forget your own name and the people who care about you, who cares right? You achieved your goal."

Hyunjin bites his lip, shame flooding his stomach, Changbin's face pulsating within his head. "And even if you don't remember what had caused that itch in the first place, it still itches...like a constant discomfort in your body. So finally you scratch it and the pain flares and becomes worse, so you scratch it harder and harder until it starts to bleed, hoping you can tear it away with your fingers." Jinyoung grimaces then, a distant rumble echoing somewhere behind them. "Bad idea...because then it just becomes raw and swollen and just hurts all the more."

Hyunjin's eyebrows furrow, arms wrapped around his knees as he peers into him curiously, a strangled sense of sadness folding through his stomach. "So...what are you supposed to do?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. Buy a cream, maybe." Jinyoung cracks a smile, shaking his head quietly. "No but in all seriousness, I guess you just have to find a way to live with the pain. Pain doesn't have to define you or drive you or get in the way of your own happiness, we just choose to let it do all those things."

He sighs then, not as if frustrated or tired but simply melancholic in his agreement of the way of the world. Hyunjin listens intently, forcing everything within him to grasp onto each word.

"We give it so much power because in the end I think we're all a little addicted to our own demise. It's unfair too, everyone in your life has tried to push you over the edge, again and again and again and suddenly you're supposed to not want to jump? When you've been staring down the pit for so long it's become everything you've known, every home and reflection you've had?"

Hyunjin's voice cracks as it laces itself through the air between them, whispers soiled and broken as every urge to come crumbling apart seeps dismally away from his flesh, leaving in its wake nothing but a curling, downtrodden numbness. "I've already fallen down the pit. I don't know how to get back up."

"That's impossible all alone," Jinyoung says, words thick with insistence and woe. "You ask for help. What's a couple of broken bones if you're still alive? Your body can heal over time."

Hyunjin shakes his head, bitterness tumbling out of him before he can stop it. He feels small beneath the ashen veil of the sky, small and battered. "I don't believe that."

"Yes you do." Jinyoung stares at him as if his own barrenness of knowledge means nothing in the way his path unfolds. What Jinyoung believes, Jinyoung believes. Maybe he should start listening, Hyunjin thinks, to the people around him. The people who care. "Otherwise you'd be dead."

The words stutter through the air before hitting the inside of his chest with a loud, sudden thud. Hyunjin says nothing, simply blinks away his uncertainty until it drapes its way all around him, the thought unraveling through his head like withered strings of dust-coated yarn.

Jinyoung gives him a kinder look then, one pleated with an anchored, sinking weight. "Whatever happened to you is not your fault. I have a feeling you need to hear that."

Hyunjin's lower lip trembles, eyes cast downward as he wills all his might still left intact not to think of it. He can't, can't, can't begin another spiral into deterioration. Not now, not here. Instead he only whispers pitifully into the day, sharp talons threatening to scrape the backside of his mind. He doesn't let them, not yet. "Thank you."

Jinyoung nods, the movement quiet and subtle as if speaking would be too great of an injustice for the depth in which they'd both been submerged. Hyunjin remains grateful for the silence, each string of thought focused instead upon the slow stumbles of raindrops once more, that heavy patter in which they hit the railing soothing, hypnotizing almost, against his ear.

He wishes he could stay like that forever, guided through the force of a leaden, distracting wetness as numbness carved him whole and yet intervals of time and existence seldom grace him for more than a few seconds. Minutes, if he's lucky. The timid figure of Felix comes treading out onto the balcony then, face warped in grave exhaustion as a nervous smile flits across his lips.

He sits down next to them, three unlucky petals of shadowed alleyways staring out into the city below, pearly hues and heavy rain clouding each concrete-bound life.

Hyunjin thinks he can hear the faint ticking of a clock from somewhere inside his head, ticking, ticking, ticking his sanity away, the chasm in his chest becoming greater with each passing flicker of time. No one says anything and yet he can feel concerned glances land upon him every now and then. The hole in his flesh only continues to grow.

He doesn't know how much time passes until he eventually gets up, limbs slow and sluggish as he moves, voice raspy and unused as he tells them both how he needs to go home. Jinyoung looks at him with an uncertain waver in his gaze, but gives him a small nod and smile nonetheless.

Felix, on the other hand, moves up as well, eyes flashing to life with a sense of steadfast determination. "I'll go with you."

"No, I don't-" Hyunjin stumbles, hesitant and panicked, only wanting to burrow himself into the rotted nest of his sheets and decay away undisturbed. Still Felix cuts him off, face pleading and insistent.

"Please. I don't want to be alone either."

Hyunjin curses him silently in his mind, the blood-curling fear from when they'd barged into his apartment not that long ago rendering him frozen and trembling. Reluctantly he agrees, guilt too thick to say no as they head back to Felix's place instead, the cozy atmosphere more welcoming and less stifling than that of his own.

Felix gives him a watery, yet grateful smile as soon as the door shuts behind them, Hyunjin moving through the space as if controlled by someone else. He doesn't know what to do, how to be, how to possibly exist as himself through the nooks and crevices of Felix's home.

In the back of his head the reminder strikes him once more, acid surging up his throat as he tries not to start dry heaving and collapsing on the floor. Felix knows, Felix knows and fuck, fuck, fuck, how can he ever face him again-

"Do you want some hot cocoa?"

Hyunjin spins around baffled, Felix peering at him timidly from the kitchen with two mugs in his hand. Without thinking he nods, the sudden beam on Felix's face soothing away his anxiety slightly.

"You really have a sweet tooth, huh." Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, Felix humming in agreement as he starts to make it.

He clicks his tongue as he heats up the saucepan. "Better diabetes than needle-transmitted viruses."

Hyunjin's face twists into bewilderment, leaning across the kitchen counter as he tilts his head. "That's...an interesting way to look at things."

Felix laughs at that, shaking his head as he starts whisking together the ingredients. "What's wrong with us, huh?"

"I don't know..." his words wither in the back of his throat, something heavy lodged within as Felix turns back to look at him, an overwhelming surge of emotion passing through him painfully. "Thank you for...just, thank you."

"I could say the same to you," Felix smiles, the curve soft and mellow and yet gloom leaks into the shadows of his eyes, voice molded into something tiny and withdrawn. "You saved my life just days ago."

Hyunjin says nothing, fear and heartache quivering back to life as the memory begins to stir. Timidly Felix walks back to the saucepan as he starts pouring the hot chocolate into the mugs, a bashful smile on his face as he hands it over to him.

Hyunjin accepts it gratefully, the warmth trickling slowly into his bones as he gives him a weak grin. "So what do you think the odds are we need therapy?"

Felix laughs gently at that, eyes glimmering with amusement. "Let's just say that if this was the 50s, I'm pretty sure a lobotomy would be up for discussion."

Hyunjin cringes at the thought, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well...Jinyoung sure knows how to pick 'em."

"Sexy and clinically insane," Felix quips, raising an eyebrow as he takes a small sip from his mug. "Nothing gets better than that."

He thinks suddenly back to the bleak rays of the hospital light as they cascaded down beneath the three of them, Jinyoung's arms wrapped around Felix protectively as sobs encompassed the room. The reminder of how little he knows about Felix has never struck him as hard as then, curiosity and guilt flaring from within.

He feels indebted almost, selfish in his lack of reaching out. "How'd you meet?" He asks, intrigued for once to divulge in someone else's life but his own.

Felix thinks for a moment, as if pondering what to say before eventually landing on a, "we used to take the same bus. He'd pay for my fares."

"Really?" Hyunjin had expected something far less common. "That's it?"

Felix grimaces then, picking absentmindedly at his nails as his eyes skit around almost hesitantly. "It was a bus to prison...you know, for visitors."

"Oh."

Felix bites his lip nervously. "Yeah...my uh, my ex boyfriend he...he got sent to prison so I used to visit him."

"Oh..." Hyunjin repeats, uncertain once more of how he's supposed to feel. Still he can tell there's a lot more beneath the surface than what Felix is willing to uncover, a prickling grief cascading down his bones. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Felix laughs though the sound only comes out strained and tense. "He...he was an asshole, he deserved it. But I'd still visit him, I didn't have anyone else...but then Jinyoung and I started talking 'cause we were always on the same bus and everything just worked out I guess. I moved here, I didn't have anything to lose so...and Jinyoung was always respectful. Genuine, you know?"

Hyunjin nods, yes, he does, appreciative more than ever of Jinyoung's dependability. Intrigue sparks within him then as he leans further across the counter, the hold on his mug tightening momentarily. "Who was he visiting in prison?"

"I don't know...he never said," Felix quips, lips sloping down into a small pout. "We'd separate 'cause he always went to the women's ward...maybe a mother or sister but he never seemed to want to talk about it."

Hyunjin only considers the words with an increasing interest yet figures his questions are better left alone. After all, Jinyoung had never pushed him hard on his own personal matters, not even after the damage he'd caused yesterday.

Visions of his face shadowed by artificial lights cloud through his mind, Hyunjin watching, watching, watching into the crowd for a peek of his potential salvation, an escape to greater things. Hyunjin tilts his head, peering into Felix with inquisitive eyes. "Did you have any experience stripping before? That's how Jinyoung and I met...at my old strip club."

Felix seems to think for a moment, expression twisting quickly into something uncomfortable before it falls back into its normal, placid reluctance. "Yeah I did...my ex introduced me to it. Was his idea."

"Oh," is all Hyunjin says, the sound tumbling out dumbly between them. He never knows how to paint himself the way he should.

"Well I'm here now, so obviously I liked it." Despite the firmness in his words there's still an air of something heavy as he speaks, a certain diluted conviction within his eyes as if he's hoping that saying it enough times will somehow make it true.

Hyunjin's stomach hardens at that, unsure of what to make of it. Felix looks around anxiously, picking once more at his fingers as he lets out a shaky, airy breathy. "That's uh...sort of why I relapsed the other day. I got a letter from him. I haven't heard from him since I stopped visiting..."

Hyunjin's heart stops, fear and panic punching through him in waves. He feels unusually protective he thinks, that same hatred he had felt toward Minho bubbling up once again. The thought of Felix getting hurt again...Hyunjin pinches his wrist discreetly. "Is he still locked up?"

"Yeah he's still in prison but...they're allowed to send letters." Felix bites his lips, cloudy remnants of something best left alone shifting through his gaze. Dismissively he waves it off, yet a strange sense of detachment shrouds itself to every word. "Don't worry, it wasn't...scary or anything. It just...brought back memories I guess. I don't know if I should respond..."

Hyunjin thinks for a moment, Felix's faraway expression unnerving him from where he stands behind the counter. "Does Chan know?"

Felix's face looks pained then, head shaking as his eyes flit back down to the mug in his hand. "No...I can't...we've only been on a couple of dates." He lets out a nervous, humorless string of laughter. "I think I freaked him out enough with the overdose, I don't need to freak him out more."

Hyunjin frowns, almost wishing he still had that blanket as small shivers run through him. "But...things are going good right?"

"Yeah, they are," Felix's lips tug upward, the smile never quite reaching his eyes. "But I'm trying to take things slow...I always rush into things and end up ruining it."

Hyunjin nods, sifting through his words carefully in his head. "Maybe it's better that way...it took a long time before Changbin and I got together but I think it was necessary in order for me to fully trust that it would work..." He pauses then, voice dwindling away into nothingness as he stares down at his own hands. Bile coats the ridges of his tongue, muscles aching in his fingers as they begin to twitch. Does he even believe that?

"You should call him," Felix says, tone soft and sincere, his eyes round and insistent as Hyunjin cranes his neck back to look up at him. Minho's words flash through his mind, each outlined sketch jagged around the edges as they cut him deep, deep, deep with their thorns. You're right, that is disgusting.

"I don't-" Hyunjin swallows, stomach lurching all of the sudden. Changbin's face comes barreling right into him, hands clutching the backside of a book better left abandoned in his drawer, expression twisting in revulsion. His stomach begins to cave in on itself, tight compressions pushing, pushing, pushing down his chest. "I can't-I can't."

Felix only blinks up at him sadly, a certain sense of anxiety riddled through him and yet still, Hyunjin thinks, understanding blooms within. "I get it."

Hyunjin nods, eyes suspiciously wet all of the sudden as he wills each raindrop away, a sudden buzzing sound from his phone drawing him dismally back to reality.

With trembling fingers Hyunjin picks it up, Changbin's name on the screen like a repeated punch to his gut. His battery is almost dead, the amount of missed calls and messages so large it only triples the guilt that's become rooted right into him.

Felix stares at him curiously, as if wondering what he'll do. Hyunjin doesn't know, how can he possibly know, how could he stay when all he's ever known is to run? Panic brews within his chest, a deep-seated illness draped across his bones. He can't look at Felix, no, not like this, not now, each gaze he takes like acid down his throat. Felix knows, Felix knows.

Hyunjin swallows, fingers quivering as he pockets his phone. "I think I'm gonna- I'm gonna go see Changbin now." Liar, liar, liar.

"That's great!" Felix beams, his eyes softening substantially as if a certain sense of pride becomes him. Hyunjin thinks he's gonna be sick. He needs to get out of there, needs to get out of there now.

"Will you-" he takes a deep breath, exhales fluttering out soaked in pools of forgotten countertop syrup, "will you be okay alone?" Slow, sticky. Hyunjin doesn't know how to unclog them from his chest.

Felix nods, affirming that yes he'll be fine and that he should go to Changbin, the guilt so thick and heavy in his gut Hyunjin thinks it might start oozing out of him any moment.

He bids him goodbye, tongue coated in sand and dust and all things unbearable before he finally makes it outside, the rainfall from before subdued to small, pitiful trickles as they splatter down on the concrete below.

Hyunjin looks at their wetness before he steps on them, murky patches of lead that disappear with the quick battering of his own, heavy shoe. By the time he reaches his own apartment, there's hardly any left, the cloudy sky clearing bit by bit with each second that billows through the city.

Still, Hyunjin thinks, the patches remain, the ground wet, wet, wet with the salt of his own fallen sorrows.

 

-

 

His apartment feels freezing as soon as he steps into it. Cold, forgotten. Hyunjin doesn't know how long he sits there unmoving and lifeless upon the floor. He considers, like he always does, to start completing his three-leafed clover.

After all it had been a few days since he'd been here, surely it needed a good scrub and yet...his mind remains scattered and unfocused. He can't clean like this, not when he keeps constantly zoning out, not when the guilt of his stomach becomes so painful he can do nothing but squeeze his eyes shut and scratch at his skin.

Vaguely he thinks of his book. No, not 'his' book. The library's.

He should return it, yes, sure that his inbox was filled with messages of the date being overdue. Still he can't, continues to ignore its existence like a ticking bomb waiting for him somewhere in his drawers, biding its time until he one day finds the urge to open it and have it explode all across his face.

But not today, no. Not yet, not yet. Hyunjin can't, doesn't want to think about it, can't think about it. And so he submits to an easy distractions, fingers aching for the familiar embrace of cocaine or small, powdery pills but he resists. After yesterday...well, he probably shouldn't touch any drugs any time soon. Or ever again, he muses though the thought remains more bitter than it does hopeful.

His TV screen flickers to life as he lets the vivid colors burn their way into his brain, a well-known cartoon of many years ago playing before his eyes. Hyunjin only watches, knees drawn to his chest, teeth gnawing softly on his thumb, the subdued pain of his biting steadying him slowly into something that aches just a little less.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, eyes glazed over and distant, limbs strangely numb as he welcomes the distraction gratefully. He doesn't laugh, doesn't find them as funny as he used to when he was a child...the thought strikes a sudden chord within him, agony flaring back to life as he turns the TV off with a swift, sudden rush.

Then, because of course the world cannot give him any seconds of peace, he hears a sharp knock on the door, the sound making him flinch from its sudden abruptness.

Standing up hesitantly, Hyunjin makes his way over to the front door before looking through the peephole discreetly, anger bubbling in his stomach at the familiar muscles of Minho's face on the other side. Sighing deeply, Hyunjin steps back and promptly ignores him, his head already beginning to split into an unbearable ache.

"Will you let me in?" Minho shouts, his voice grating and unbearable as his fist bangs harder and harder against the door. "C'mon Hyunjin, open up-"

Hyunjin flings the door open aggressively, glare piercing as it tunnels into him. "Get the fuck out of my apartment building before I call security. I'm serious."

Minho only sighs, face carved into a begrudging sense of duty. "Will you just let me in?"

Hyunjin's face twists into one of humorous disbelief, rage simmering up his chest as he scoffs. Minho cuts him off before he has the chance to say anything, eyes bulging with insistence. "I'm here to apologize."

"Yeah right," he sneers, the rage inside his chest thrumming so loudly he can hardly hear anything but the sound of his own blood pounding through his head. Still a sense of nausea overwhelms his exploding anger, anxiety striking him whole at the mere thought of having to listen to anything Minho has to say.

"I'm serious." Relentless, pushy. Fucking aggravating as always. Hyunjin wants to shove Minho into the wall. "Please. The sooner you let me in, the sooner I'll leave."

Hyunjin clenches his jaw, eyes scanning over him rapidly as it takes everything within him not to slam the door right in his face. As far as sincerity goes, Hyunjin can't find any signs that would dispute it by the foreign, clearly uncomfortable glint lingering in Minho's gaze and yet still he doesn't trust him. Not for one miserable second.

Minho sighs, crossing his arms as he raises an eyebrow, clearly impatient already from Hyunjin's lack of movement. "I'm not gonna leave until you let me in."

Hyunjin wants to spit in his face. Instead he steps to the side, glare sharp and serrated as it bores threateningly into him, Minho following awkwardly into his apartment. The muscles in his jaw twitch, irritation coursing through his veins as he seethes with bitterness. "You have thirty seconds."

The air of Minho's usual indifference disappears immediately, eyes sparking with something that could almost resemble a sense of nervousness. No, Hyunjin thinks, unable to imagine Minho as anything of the such. Uncomfortable maybe, discomposed.

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here. Hyunjin only taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms as his gaze narrows.

"Look, I'm...I'm sorry," Minho starts, the words tumbling out so slowly it seems as if his tongue had never learned how to form them before. Hyunjin wants to scoff, yet a large lump in his throat stifles him into silence.

Minho stares at him unnervingly, wishing for someone to guide him in the right direction. "For the things I said...I really didn't mean any of it." At least he remains eye contact, the air so tense and awkward Hyunjin wishes he wouldn't have come at all. "I just wanted to mess with you. To hurt you."

"Well," Hyunjin laughs, surprised by his abrupt honesty and yet not really knowing why. "Mission accomplished."

Minho's shoulders tense up, a conflicted expression flitting across his face. He looks constipated, Hyunjin thinks. "I just...I was angry at you for what you said and...and I shouldn't have retaliated the way I did-okay look, I fucking hate this shit, I'm sorry."

Hyunjin only blinks at the sudden shift, Minho cutting himself off as he sighs, frustration and anger laced within his voice. "I don't know how to do this."

Hyunjin wants to laugh, wants to laugh and laugh and laugh because of course he'd be stupid to believe that Minho would be capable of something as humane as feeling guilt and apologizing.

He tilts his head, voice coated in a sarcastic sweetness. What a fucking joke. "Aw, you came all the way here to deliver a shitty apology. I feel touched. You can leave now."

"Just fucking listen, okay?" Minho's jaw hardens, something desperate yet angry flashing within his eyes, words tumbling out of him as if having been hidden within for far too long. "Hyunjin, you annoy the shit out of me. I'm not gonna sugarcoat anything." Hyunjin can only stare in irritated bewilderment as Minho continues rampant and undaunted.

"Most people annoy me but you especially and for the longest time I never really cared enough to question why but what I said to you was really crossing the line and so I started to wonder and...I think...I think the reason why you bug me so much is because you're so..." his face twists as if not wanting to utter the words, frustration painted heavily across each rift of his bones, "good at this job."

Hyunjin blinks, surprise running through him as Minho runs an agitated hand through his hair. "And I'm not jealous or anything, it's just..." he sighs, the sound heavy and dense. "I hate this job, okay? I fucking hate it. All my life all I've ever had to do is please, please, please. Every goddamn shift is just another knife in my chest but you...I look at you dancing and...you genuinely like it."

Minho stares at him as if unable to comprehend his own words, an almost grieving sense of sorrow reflected within his eyes. Hyunjin doesn't know what to think, the layers of cement in his stomach folding on top of each other until there's nothing but a heavy, hardened thud to ground him with.

"You find meaning in it or whatever like you want to do it, like you're excited for work and..." Minho's expression screws itself restless once again, "it just pisses me off because here I am hating every single second, cursing my fucking life and you just...love it."

His own bones feel thick and dense then, threatening to tilt over. Hyunjin straightens his spine, knuckles white and strained as he molds them into a fist. "You like the attention from all those men, you soak it up like it's the best thing ever and I guess I just never understood why."

Minho's exasperation withers into something more pitiful then, voice muted and coated with an unnerving sense of gravity. Hyunjin wants to vomit. "But I think I get it now....I think I was just...bitter that, that you managed to find joy in this kind of job when all I ever feel is anger..."

Hyunjin's eye twitches, his breathing quiet yet ragged. Joy? Is that what Minho thinks he feels?

He frowns, the thought flourishing strangely within his head. He supposes a part of Minho is right, that pure, euphoric bliss of twisting himself into the Tiger Lily unmatched by anything else - powerful, lightheaded. Hyunjin had always loved storytelling.

He only purses his lips, unable to make sense of the feelings that strum through him. Minho hasn't moved at all, body strung up tall and right as if carved to a statue, unfamiliar, he's sure, to spitting words not tainted by fire. He tilts his head, needles prickling his chest uncomfortably. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No," Minho says, eyes flitting around the apartment as if uncertain of what to land on. In the end they find his own gaze, a tense, jittery string of exhales following each curve of his mouth. "Just thought I should tell you that...I might have hated you but it wasn't your fault. Just like..." Minho swallows, rattled and antsy no doubt, "just like whatever your step-father did to you wasn't your fault either."

Hyunjin's fingers tremble, dust draping itself across his tongue as a sour, putrid taste begins to infest his mouth.

"Great." His leg muscles twitch, the echoes of his own breathing resounding like delayed chips to a broken, rifted record. "Apology accepted." The words bounce emptily off the walls, no emotion to coat them with, no feeling to weave them nice and pleasant. "Please leave." He doesn't think of anything then.

Still Minho remains in place, face hollow yet brewing with strange, tingly seeds of...Hyunjin doesn't know what. Sadness? Pain? He doesn't care, doesn't care about anything.

"You know..." Minho starts, voice timid and raspy, dislodged no doubt from years and years of a thick dirt-bristling place too murky and weak to fully know how to function once more in the light, "not that I want to sit here and talk about feelings with you but..." like a sick, beaten animal, a puny little thing to trample with the heel of your foot just for the fun of it. "I know what it's like." Forgotten and neglected, its skin weathered and sagging from its useless, discarded bones.

Hyunjin stares at him, that mangled creature within reflected in the same muddied hues of Minho's eyes. He says nothing, a hard, agonizing lump forming in his throat as he sees for the first time how truly similar the man before him looks.

"You feel dirty right?" Minho's eyes paint themselves ashen down below, fatigue and exhaustion dripping down his face. Hyunjin understands, understands what it's like to be tired. "Like this...this deep-seated filth under your skin?"

Something fleeting yet sore flashes through Minho's face, each word slow and jagged around the edges. Hyunjin gets the feeling he's never once spoken them before. "Like there's something fundamentally fucked up in your core?"

Hyunjin's mouth parts open, pain and surprise exuding from his own gaze as it strings itself to Minho's, a deep, tugging wound that's been left open and vulnerable throbbing back to life with each second that passes, the two of them staring at each other like dominos ready to fall.

Still he says nothing, words caught somewhere in the back of his throat, mind slugged in static and something that aches. Somehow he doubts there had ever been any words there at all.

Minho nods slightly, the movement barely there, subtle enough to go amiss amongst that which never pays attention. But Hyunjin does, can't find it in himself to tear his eyes away even for a second.

Minho lets out an airy, strangled sound, something born as a pitiful ray of laughter but doomed to dwindle into stifled, choked-up regrets. It sounds weird, Hyunjin thinks, coming from him. Even weirder does it sound when it starts to echo throughout his own head.

"Yeah well..." Minho's jaw hardens suddenly as if burdened by a sudden anger, face quickly slackening back to something sapped and bleary as if such rage were too exhausting to commit to, "my mother pimped me out for drugs when I was five so..." at least right here and now, the weary air between them too shadowed for them to pretend it doesn't exist, "I know what's it like..." he does, Hyunjin thinks, probably better than anyone, "if you ever want to talk I guess, well...I guess we can."

He laughs then, expression twisting into something uncomfortable. "Not for long of course, cause I think it might give me a rash."

"Me too," Hyunjin smiles weakly, a sudden guilt thickening in his stomach as he thinks back to all the brittle thorns in which his own tongue had once spoken. He bites his lip then, trying not to think of it. "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

"I've heard worse," Minho waves it off as if it's nothing, though it only triples the feeling of shame within him. He's sure he has...Hyunjin knows, knows the hatred that comes knocking on your door night after night, grabby hands and coarse fingers that are all too happy to leave bruises in that which deserves it. Critters of the night, the lowest of the low. Yes, Hyunjin knows the scars of words that sting better than anyone.

"Have you ever..." he starts, not really sure why he's asking, not really sure if he really wants to know, "talked about it with anyone?"

Minho looks momentarily surprised, pained almost as if the mere idea was suffocating. "No," he shakes his head. "Jinyoung knows about some of it but...I've never talked about it." His neck cranes to the side then, expression caught in deep thought as if wondering whether he should say anything at all.

In the end it seems like he does, Minho turning back to stare at him with an unusual edge to his voice - something softer, almost mellow enough to be considered gentle. Hyunjin reels each word in with surprise. "So I can't really give you any advice but for what it's worth, I think you should tell Changbin. He seems like a good guy...I think he'd understand."

His skin flares up with goosebumps at the name immediately, something vulnerable and sickly like a whimper straining in the back of his throat. He misses him, misses the scent of his sheets, his neck, that certain way in which he holds him. Each stupid joke and grin that makes him laugh.

Hyunjin wants to sob, his cries crumbling themselves to dust before they manage to come spilling out. He isn't about to cry in front of Minho. Not again. Instead he settles for a small, barely audible whisper as the shards of his voice pierce him from the inside, "I'm afraid he's gonna leave me."

Minho looks conflicted then, a grim expression flitting across his face. "I wish I could say with certainty that he won't but I stopped believing in the decency of men a long time ago." Hyunjin knows he isn't the type to lie for comfort anyway. "I don't even know if I believe good men exist."

"He is though," the words tumble out before he can stop them, woven into the air as if mere breaths to live by. Hyunjin knows that he is, knows it better than any diseased, beaten down truth that's been shoved down his throat. "He's good. So good."

Minho says nothing for a second, nodding after a while as a small, barely noticeable smile graces his lips. Hyunjin catches it, just barely, cradles it almost protectively within his head. He isn't sure why. "Then I think you already have your answer."

Hyunjin's gaze falls to the floor, each slope and arch of Changbin's face spinning through his mind, his gut filling with anxious nausea the longer he considers the idea. Fear seizes him from all corners, a rotten scent boiling somewhere in the distance. He can't talk about it, he can't.

He hears a sudden clearing of the throat from above, Minho's voice back to its familiar, awkward tension. "Well...this has been sufficiently uncomfortable. I gotta go home and feed my cat."

Hyunjin blinks up, all thought halted as surprise and perplexity courses through him. "You have a cat?"

"Yeah." Minho stares at him as if confused, eyes narrowing at his bewilderment. "Why is that so surprising?"

Hyunjin's head tilts to the side, disbelief coating his words as he tries not to laugh. "The thought of you caring for anything is dumbfounding to be honest."

Minho only rolls his eyes. "It's people I don't like, not cats. Cats haven't done anything."

Hyunjin stares at him strangely, unable to make any sort of sense of the man before him. "That's true I guess." A funny smile stretches itself across his face before he manages to stifle it, the image of Minho crouching down to cuddle with some chubby cat flourishing amusedly.

"Alright..." Minho starts, making his way back toward the door, a foreign expression curling its way across his face. The imitation of friendliness, Hyunjin thinks, though it comes out more as a grimace. Funnily enough it makes him feel slightly better. "Goodbye."

Hyunjin mimics the words back, the sudden silence of his apartment echoing unbearably as soon as Minho closes the door behind him, leaving him in nothing but the horrid wake of his own spinning mind. Yet unlike before he feels an unusual sense of calmness wash over him, something sad and aching tugging him down still and yet panic eludes him for once.

Hyunjin stares at the screen of his phone, a small rift cutting through the upper corner. He doesn't remember that being there before. He frowns then, fingers shaking slightly as he opens it and scrolls through all the messages...his stomach floods with guilt.

There are many, so many he thinks it would take him all night should he start reading them...his eyes skim them over, all of them worried, all of them woven in adoration.

Hyunjin bites his lower lip, tears springing to his eyes as he tries not to let them spill. Nervously he writes a small text, body frozen and stuck from where he sits crouched on the floor, waiting, waiting, waiting for the familiar ping of his messages to bring him back to life.

It doesn't take long, hardly takes any time at all before it vibrates with promise after promise, Hyunjin sniffling quietly as he wipes away the taste of salt on his lips. There's a lot of staring, eyes focusing and blurring as they remain intently trained upon the wall, the clock ticking away each second as if awaiting his doom and then- a sudden knock, the sound loud and yet comforting as Hyunjin springs to his feet.

The first thing Changbin does when he opens the door is leap forward and cradle him into a tight, protective hug. Hyunjin isn't sure what he'd been expecting, a bunch of questions perhaps, tears and heartache, maybe even another fight but this...Hyunjin melts into his touch, limbs slumping together as he buries his face into his neck. He doesn't know why he'd expected anything else.

"Please let's not talk," he whimpers, silent cries streaming down his cheeks as Changbin's hold tightens even further, a firm hand coming to rest on the back of his head as Hyunjin all but lets himself fall.

"Okay," Changbin whispers, pain and worry laced into his voice and yet only gentleness caresses him, the comforting smell of his skin washing over him in soft, anchoring creases. Hyunjin sobs wretchedly. "Okay."

"Just hold me," he pleads, the words muffled from the way his mouth remains latched onto his neck, Changbin squeezing him tenderly as his voice trembles through all its devotion. "I'm not gonna let go." Shaky, determined. Scared. "I promise." Hyunjin clutches onto the fabric of his shirt, ashamed of all the pain he brings him.

Gently, Changbin brings him to his bedroom, laying him down as Hyunjin all but grasps onto his shirt, tugging him close, close, close until all he can feel, see and breathe is the steady scent of the man he- Hyunjin sobs, the word deconstructing itself before he finally gets the chance to cradle it.

Still Changbin holds him tight, fingers running through his hair comfortingly, hand trailing down his spine as if small kisses of a feather.

Love means pain. Yes, Hyunjin knows, knows what that word had meant each time he'd heard it uttered in sinful whispers between the hidden folds of night. My little dove. Hyunjin clutches onto him harder, fingers trembling from how tightly he holds. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Love means dirtied sheets, a rotten smell. Secret after secret. The art of being blind, the curse of being deaf. Hyunjin's sob breaks into broken, splintered echoes.

"I'm here," Changbin whispers, fingers stroking his jaw softly. Hyunjin can't see him from where his face remains buried in his chest and yet...Changbin's fingers trail up toward his cheek, brushing gently against the side of his face, sloping back into his hair. Calmly, lovingly. Hyunjin can imagine the way his eyes bleed with carefully threaded constellations. "I'll always be here."

No, Hyunjin thinks, he'd been wrong, wrong, wrong. Love means small, playful smiles beneath hues of tangerine. Unrestrained laughter, the faint smell of green soap and ink. The idea of the ocean, the promise of the moon. The art of falling apart and being picked back up again.

Like a puzzle, Hyunjin thinks, except Changbin keeps adding more and more pieces, weaving his life slowly but surely into something that doesn't need to hurt...no, love doesn't mean pain, he thinks. Love is the absence of pain, the assurance of gentle, starry touches that could place him in the sky with the mere devotion in which they breathe.

Hyunjin's cries fall slowly away throughout the night, not knowing, not caring how much time passes, their limbs entangled within each other as if having been born that very way - steady, inseparable.

He says nothing more, words thick beneath his tongue as Changbin all but embraces him tenderly until his chest falls into languid, ragged breaths. Hyunjin watches with a certain fondness as Changbin falls asleep, eyelids fluttering, muscles twitching every now and then as he exhales calmly through the air between them.

Still safe and guarded within his arms, Hyunjin smiles as he looks at him, his face barely discernible from the darkness of the curtains shielding any city light from outside and yet Hyunjin stares and stares and stares until his vision becomes adjusted, each bend and curve of his face engraved within his mind as he draws it over and over and over again.

Changbin had told him once that he looks like an angel when he sleeps. Hyunjin smiles softly, fingers tapping brief, light touches against his jaw. He should have told him more, how beautiful he finds him.

He makes a promise to himself then, eyelids heavy and thick as they start to flutter shut, that he'll tell him in the morning.

 

-

 

Hyunjin thinks there must be someone in the universe playing tricks on him the following day, his life contorting itself into chaos upon chaos without any measly break in between. Maybe it is his own fault really, always falling away from that small shred of sanity he still has intact and yet this...no, someone was pulling the strings of his fate from above with a special sense of cruelty.

Hyunjin stares at himself in his vanity mirror, a dark silk robe falling across his shoulder as he carefully applies his makeup, thankful for the momentary appeasement of falling asleep yesterday entangled in Changbin's limbs.

They still hadn't talked about it, Hyunjin's stomach brewing with nerves each time he thinks to the inevitable conversation ahead. Admitting he relapsed would be the easy part, admitting why...Hyunjin swallows harshly, completing his eyeliner shakily as he forces the thought away. He can make up a lie, doesn't have to tell him the truth.

Hyunjin's chest burns, lips pursing as he scorches his reflection into his own gaze. Liar, liar, liar. It seems to be all he is these days.

He shakes his head, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip apprehensively. The Tiger Lily can't afford such dawdling, numbing thoughts, not now anyway, minutes before he has to go on stage.

Even more so when Jinyoung flings his door open suddenly, the emergence of his slightly urgent, panicked face bringing with him the rest of the force to tilt his world over, vision spinning on its axis until the dizziness makes him stumble into shadowed, hidden corners.

Jinyoung stares at him strangely, almost as if wishing he weren't there at all. Hyunjin says nothing, his gaze boring into his expectantly.

What he doesn't expect, what he'd probably least expected of all, are the words that come tumbling out of his mouth laced in apprehension and strain. "Hyunjin, there's a woman here asking for you."

"What?" Hyunjin's face twists in bewilderment, mouth thinning into a frown. He doesn't know many women, doesn't know many people really. Changbin's mother? His jaw clenches irritably. Ms. Kim? No fucking way. "What woman? Did you tell her this is a gay strip club?"

Jinyoung's expressions molds itself into something guarded, voice scattered with a strange sense of foreboding as he speaks. "She says she knows you...she knew your real name."

Hyunjin doesn't like the way in which Jinyoung's gaze lingers on him so strangely, an unnerving ripple of anxiety tunneling through him as he gently places the makeup brush back down onto the desk. "Why are you looking at me like that, who is she?"

Jinyoung's eyes flicker to the side as if wanting to remain trained upon anything else than him, his gaze unnerving and regretful as soon as it finds him once more. Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever seen Jinyoung like this - nervous, hesitant.

His stomach hardens immediately. Still the words spill out of him quickly, a rapid ripping of the band aid as his jaw clenches anxiously. "She says she's your mother."

The words barely even register, his stomach ballooning and rising with airy, queasy breaths. Hyunjin laughs out in disbelief. "What? No." Something painful starts to form in the back of his head, the beginning punches of a bruising, cutthroat headache. "There's no way. She's obviously lying, my mother doesn't even know I'm here, okay?" What the fuck is Jinyoung even talking about? "I haven't spoken to her in six years."

Jinyoung grimaces, severity shrouding every inch of his face. "She looks exactly like you..."

Hyunjin's chest bristles, anger rising up his throat rapidly as he fights the urge to start throwing things. "Is this some joke?" His eyes bulge, voice coated in a simmering, exploding rage. "Because if it is, it's not fucking funny!"

"It's not a joke Hyunjin," Jinyoung says gravely, no doubt mentally preparing himself for yet another tantrum. "She says she needs to talk to you."

"Whoever that woman is, she's fucking lying!" Hyunjin stands up then, body shaking as he points a finger aggressively in Jinyoung's face. "She is not my mother, don't let her in!"

Jinyoung sighs, tone seeped in that commanding assurance which always forces him to listen. He only grits his teeth, fingers stretching and curling as he tries to will their tremble away. "Hyunjin, I would pay good money to bet that that woman is related to you, the resemblance is uncanny. She said her name is Sunhwa..."

Hyunjin freezes, blood running cold. The name collapses on the edge of his tongue as all color drains itself from his face, limbs submerged in icy water as his flesh begins to prickle.

No, no, no there's no way, there's no way his mother - such a homebound, cowardly soul always stuck in the shadows - would take the time to find him here of all places after all these years! A rusty flavor of something decayed erupts inside his mouth, body frozen in shock as Jinyoung stares at him worriedly.

"She's downstairs," he explains, Hyunjin's breathing constricted within his chest as if there's some sort of block of ice barricading the way.

He doesn't understand, no, this doesn't make any sense, there is absolutely no reason for his mother to be here after all the time she'd spent happily declaring her hatred toward him. An ugly thought twists inside his head, panic surging through him in thick, scraping branches.

"Did-did Minho put you up to this?" Each exhale comes out ragged; hysterical. His eyes bulge, a painful numbness spreading throughout his fingers. "Is this some sick prank?!"

"What?!" Jinyoung contorts himself wildly at the accusation, offended and bewildered no doubt. "No! Look, I can kick her out if you want. You don't have to talk to her."

Hyunjin only stares, eyes wide, face ashen and white as pure, untethered fear erupts within him. If his mother is here....no, he can't grasp his head around it, hadn't seen her in so long, her face but a distorted memory to sometimes haunt him during sleep...but if his mother is there then surely...Hyunjin swallows, a paralyzing sensation cascading all the way from the top of his head to his leaden, rootless feet. "Is...is there someone else with her?"

Jinyoung looks momentarily confused before settling into a small shake of the head, forehead creased in boundless unease. "No, it's just her."

Hyunjin's legs almost buckle beneath him from relief, the horrid, pungent taste in his mouth turning to something bitter and sour as anger begins to bubble in his chest once more. His mother thinks she can just waltz back into his life after everything she'd done, after everything she hadn't done?!

His fingers shake, body quivering in a brewing rage that only grows and grows with each passing second of silence. How dare she? How dare she come back and threaten to ruin his life all over again?!

A hazy, revolting shade of red curls itself around his vision, tinting everything as if washed and faded with remnants of dirtied blood as he all but marches out of his vanity room and slams the door shut behind him, skull pounding so viciously he doesn't register any of the motion surrounding him, feet stomping, stomping, stomping their way downstairs as their skin fills itself with splinters.

In the corner of his vision does he think he vaguely sees Changbin noticing him, calling out after his name as he begins to follow but Hyunjin can't hear him, can't hear anything but the sound of his own mother berating him for years and years and years, each word like a thick serrated blade to twist open his already rotted, fly-infested wounds.

Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever felt a sense of aggression encompass him as in that very moment, each thought flying out of his head with the force of his skull being repeatedly hit by a truck, throbbing, throbbing, throbbing so hard he's sure it all will come tumbling right off his neck any instant.

The sea of faceless watchers in his way do nothing to stop him, hands shoving away at them forcefully as he makes his way toward the entrance, fingers tingling with the need to crack and break something against the wall and then-

There, just as he'd sketched her in the tatters of his mind, does his mother stand waiting and cold, face chiseled into something rigid and beautiful, something monstrous no doubt about to spit him in the face with all the loathing it carries and Hyunjin's breathing momentarily stops, lungs compressed as he stills, stumbling back a few steps, his falter garnering her attention as her eyes tilt their way right into his.

Instead of piercing, glacial ice to render him immobile does a hot, fiery gush of lava erupt inside of him, anger consuming each and every inch of his flesh still intact from all the time spent battered and bruised.

Hyunjin's mouth opens before hers ever gets the chance, scorching kernels of a boiling desert bursting in the air between them as he all but screams his lungs to death. "Who the fuck do you think you are showing up here after six fucking years, huh?! What the fuck do you want?!"

Faintly he registers people surrounding him, a strong hand reeling him back in with a touch to his shoulder but Hyunjin doesn't care, doesn't care about anything except the way his mother's face twists cruelly, eyes bulging in venomous shock. "Where are your manners?!"

"Manners?!" Hyunjin wants to laugh, wants to laugh and laugh and laugh and maybe spit in her face for good measure and yet the only thing that comes slithering up his throat is that familiar, sickened taste of vomit. "You wanna talk about manners you fucking-"

Someone grabs him from behind, restraining the thrashing his limbs had already fallen victim to without even noticing, voice firm yet gentle as it tries to reign him in. "Okay Hyunjin dial it back."

Hyunjin doesn't know who it is, only twists his body roughly to the side as he tries to get out of the grip, thrashing and flailing aggressively and yet it's to no avail. Hyunjin doesn't even know what he'd do should he get out, can only feel the surging rage doubling and doubling within him each time he catches glimpse of his mother's stony face.

"Meet me tomorrow at noon at the café outside of this club," she says, a cutting edge to her voice as if it's nothing to be discussed, a clear, assertive command he has no choice but to heed to. "I need to talk to you."

Hyunjin's chest flares, eyes flashing with indignation as he continues to struggle. "What-"

"Don't be late!" Is the last thing she all but screams demandingly, body contorting away from the entrance as she starts to walk outside, inky black hair fluttering slightly from the movement.

"You fucking-" Hyunjin yells after her, words dying in the back of his throat as the arms around him spin him back further back into the club, setting him down eventually as Hyunjin's chest heaves, Changbin's face peering into him with all the concern and gentleness he carries.

"She can't just-" Hyunjin stumbles, breaths coming out ragged and panicked, the anger inside of him still rearing its ugly head every which direction, "why the fuck is-" he swallows, hysteria bubbling up his throat, "why is she here and-"

"Hyunjin," Changbin says, tone low and serious yet it flows its way into his brain overcast with blurry outlines too thick for him to catch onto, his body rocking back and forth frantically as Changbin tries to get him to still.

Hyunjin doesn't understand, can't possibly understand the paths in which she'd decided to tread upon, shaky breaths trembling out of him wildly, "What does she want-"

"Hyunjin, let's go home." Changbin cages him gently, trying to shield him away from prying eyes and back into the private corridor and yet all it does is make him panic more, limbs struck by a rapid, delirious sense of frenzy.

Hyunjin hits his chest, a sudden outburst of tears of springing through his eyes, a mangled, deformed beast clawing and scratching against his ribcage as his voice splinters itself in cracks. "She can't just come here!"

"I know, I know," Changbin soothes, clutching onto his hands in order to stop them from thrashing about.

"I-" Hyunjin bites his lip, a sob choking its way up his throat. "I don't-"

"You don't have to meet her-"

Hyunjin flails furiously once more, Changbin's hold tightening in order to subdue him away from beating at his chest, a cold sweat sending shivers down his spine. "But what is she doing here?!"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to-"

"But she can't just-" Hyunjin stutters, puny, puny child unable to shy away from tantrums, "she can't-"

"Hey, wanna see a photo of Jia my mom sent me?"

"What?" He croaks, the sound weak and littered with momentary surprise, body halting all of the sudden. Changbin gives him a small smile as he fishes forward his phone, Hyunjin's eyes trailing after it as if hypnotized, desperate for something to latch onto.

The screen illuminates the darkness of the room around them as if carrying with it rays of the moon, Jia's toothy grin bright and playful despite the sleepy way in which her eyes remain shut, her hair tousled and messy as if just having woken up from bed. He spots the light blue hem of her ocean-themed pajamas, a soft glow from the night light out of frame caressing her face.

"That's from today?" He sniffles, fingers clutching absentmindedly onto the fabric of Changbin's shirt.

"Yeah," Changbin smiles. "Cute, right?"

Hyunjin nods, eyes glassy and big as he wipes away at them, body trembling as he anxiously gnaws on his lips. "Can we-" Hyunjin blinks, inching his way his closer, wanting to hide far, far away from the swarm that threatens to swallow him whole, "can we look at more?"

Changbin's grin only widens, a hand slithering around his waist as he guides him back into a secluded area, feathery touches coming up to brush away the streaks of tears upon his face.

"Sure," he says as Hyunjin peers into him hopefully, relief and a slow yet unwinding sense of calm flooding through him. "I have lots of photo albums at home."

"Okay," Hyunjin whispers, grateful, relieved almost, at having someone there to tell him what to do. Guide him, shield him.

"Let's take a break from work, yeah?" Changbin gazes into him kindly, eyes soaked in a sense of yearning desperation. "I think that's a good idea."

"Okay," Hyunjin repeats, chest beginning to stir dismally back to life, his breathing picking up as soon as he lets his thoughts rumble in the distance. "But what- what do you think she wants?"

"I don't know," Changbin admits, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, face close enough for Hyunjin to simply lean in should he want to. He wants to, yet the neglected taste of his mouth leaves it useless and abandoned. "But you don't owe her anything."

Hyunjin nods, sniffling pathetically as a few more tears cascade down his cheeks. "Okay." His voice sounds weak, sapped of energy and yet pained all at the same time. "Okay let's just-" something breaks within him, a daunting, unnerving sense of dread that begins to unravel, "let's go home and-and look at p-photos."

Changbin gives him a warm smile, its curve bright enough to leave a fluttery heap of butterflies alive and back in his stomach. "Wait till you see the ones from last Halloween. Jia made us all dress up as Disney princesses."

Hyunjin laughs faintly, the image already enough to make his gut unclench just slightly. "What-what was she?"

"A donkey," Changbin deadpans, expression twisting into amusement as Hyunjin can't help the weak rises of laughter that surge through him. "Don't ask, I have no idea."

Hyunjin nods, exhaling shakily as he finally manages to steady his breathing, peering into him playfully as a mischievous grin graces his lips. "Alright, I need to see this. Ready to go, princess?"

Changbin laughs loudly then, the sound echoing fondly within his mind as Changbin all but shakes his head, chastising him jokingly for coming for his gig as he leads him back up into his dressing room to get changed.

Jinyoung tells him to take the day off, as much time as he needs. Hyunjin only nods, the words barely even registering as he mounts Changbin's bike, clutch tighter and more fearful than usual.

Unwillingly he thinks of the next day, lights blurring past them as they speed through the city, his mother's face winding and flashing through his mind, her words constructing and deconstructing themselves over and over again as he plays them on repeat. A broken record, a chipped away melody.

Hyunjin stares at the ground from behind the tint of his visor, the speed in which they drive rendering it hazy and distorted. Still he sees despite the threads of shadow, a muddied, dirt-coated trail.

They follow it dutifully, the motorcycle crushing it within its wake with each turn and slope it runs from and yet it does nothing to dissolve the grime, the imprints sticky and spoiled upon the rubber of the tires. Steadily it lurks - drip, drip, drip, - that stained earth of yesterday.

Notes:

oh y'all thought the plot twists were over?🫢

 

some things are slowly piecing themselves back together again, minho’s apology, jinyoung’s advice…hyunjin needs to be prepared now more than ever to confront his past - quite literally this time.

thank you so much for reading 💕 see you next monday!

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 21: Birthmark

Notes:

mind the tags...discussions of csa ahead

The day awakens once more by the continuous stream of a white, bleakened sky. Hyunjin hardly recognizes the city around him. Not anymore.

His feet burn as they step on the concrete, stomach doused in something he hasn't felt in years. The tall buildings reflect dully without the gleam of a haloing sun, glass turning matted and plain through the cotton-threaded air around them. Everything falls into place just seconds too late, slow motion, bound by quicksand - his heart faltering the closer it gets to that wretched café.

There hadn't been much time to contemplate whether or not he should go, his mind unraveling to barren strings of yarn at the mere thought of not knowing why his mother had come, her sudden interference like a large rift running through his spine - aching and aching and aching as he tossed and turned on the bed, unable to sleep, unable to shut his eyes. Nighttime had been a puny, pesky flea.

Now, the familiar view of a café in which he'd never thought much of before but is sure he won't ever forget again comes leering right before him, his stomach dropping into a painful jolt as his limbs freeze momentarily.

He stares at it for a while, its appearance flowing through him without making much of an impression, almost as if he can't fully catch it, fingers too nimble and weak to grasp onto anything real.

Life had always been like that, his mind spinning tales to run far, far away from reality. Yet there, bound within its walls, siting idly no doubt on a rickety wicker chair as she waits, exists everything he'd tried to convince himself were but phantoms. Pain, tears. Something that aches.

Changbin had promised to meet him as soon as it was over and yet now...Hyunjin isn't so sure where he is any longer - stuck, trapped to the air of the past.

His feet move slowly as they begin to tread, not quietly this time, no, not like a mouse scurrying into its corner but heavily instead; grating. The ridges of his soles scrape against the concrete, a buzzing, numbing sensation spreading throughout him as soon as he makes his way inside.

She's out on the balcony, a waiter tells him. Hyunjin nods, saying nothing. His fingers itch for the murderous taste of his cigarette and still his lungs feel clogged just thinking about it.

The pearly drops of the sky catch the top of her head as they cascade around her, falling, falling, falling like pinpricks of snow amidst the spilled oil of a metal can. Hyunjin blinks, his mother tumbling into view like static from his television - jumbled, unpleasant. A tedious sound nagging somewhere in his ear.

Hyunjin sits down in front of her, limbs stretching themselves like rusty, neglected machinery. He can't remember the last time they'd been used for something other than harsh thuds against the wall. There, in the slow resumption of his life as she flickers up to look at him, he isn't so sure where he is.

Hyunjin can't see anything but his own ghostlike tatters upon his mother's face. He discerns within them, those depthless pools of muddied, brown eyes, the very essence of his entire being, the same murky-colored roots that have twisted their way around his limbs since he was born upon the scorching horizon that unremarkable day.

Throughout his life he'd heard countless of times, head shaking in denial, lips frowning in repressed anger, that he looked like his mother. Hyunjin's chest would bristle, his skin tightening like leather clasps around his bones - no, no he did not believe it. Could not see any such resemblance. Now, with the unwelcome filters of rust from a sun that's been burning for too long, he sees anything but.

Her hair, inky and wispy as if threaded by silk, warped in the same delicate contrast of a pale, docile face, eyes sharp yet harmless, body small yet commanding - the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips.

Hyunjin recognizes himself within her steely, expressionless gaze for the first time in his life. For a moment he wonders how difficult it would be for him to become but a skeleton of her past, to weave the same cruel fate she'd spun for herself.

But then - her eye twitches, jaw hardening, the faint creases of fatigue draped across her thickening like rustling branches. No, Hyunjin thinks. He isn't like her, isn't anything like the cold, bloodlessness of her veins, each tissue and fiber replaced instead with icy, freezing water.

Despite the shared brushstrokes of an unlucky, haunted beauty, he knows that they will be nothing more than two opposing poles constantly swaying away from each other. Perhaps one day, if he could ever allow himself such privileges, they would become strangers. Now, they're not even that. Nothing but unearthly remnants of a past best left alone.

His mothers regards him carefully as he treads his way over, each muscle in her face clicking into place with all its subtleties, head held slightly higher, eyes burning with a sense of strangled authority. She looks exactly as he'd remembered and yet there's a foreign, almost frightening sense of bleakness that cloaks her scalding skin.

"Didn't think you'd come."

Hyunjin sits down opposite of her with lead infused into his bones, a sense of numbing static spreading throughout him. Almost as if he isn't there, an out of body experience to squeeze his stomach tighter and tighter with distrust.

His fingers remain still as they brush against his lap, mouth coated in a repulsive taste as he speaks, each word far, far away from his own tumbling ears. "How did you find me?"

His mother purses her lips then, a quick yet heady beam of anger striking through as she rummages through something in her purse. Hyunjin recognizes that poorly concealed rage coming and going with the same predictability of the wind, the sudden flashing of his own, sultry gaze rendering him frozen and empty of words.

"This." The heavy thud of his magazine echoes from across the table, his mother's eyes filling with revulsion from the quick glance she takes at it, his dark hooded eyes staring up from the cover with lust spilling through every rift as he prowls the desert floor tigerlike and starved. "Nearly had a heart attack when I saw it."

Hyunjin's stare flicks back up to his mother, the distaste within her face so sharp and jarring it almost renders him breathless. Hyunjin swallows, acid coating the inside of his throat. He doesn't know why he still feels like this, immobile and powerless beneath her hatred. Small seeds of anger bubble within him then. "Didn't know they sold this outside of Vegas."

"Imagine the horror I felt looking at this," she spits, eyes narrowing as they glare upon those meagre, flimsy pages. "The humiliation."

He'd felt nothing but unearthly power when he'd taken them, the cameras snapping away with the immorality of sticky-paged photos. Hyunjin swallows, shame coursing through him and yet he doesn't know why, tongue burning with a sudden guilt he hasn't felt in years.

Somehow he wonders if there's someone over his shoulder watching, looming, threatening to scorch him to cinders for such blasphemy. He shakes his head, fingers digging into his thigh. What a ridiculous fucking thought. He doesn't believe in God anymore. He doesn't think he ever has.

Anger spirals its way within him then, twisting its cord like a spinning, unraveling helix, frustration tugging through his gut. How dare his mother just show up out of nowhere and come twirling around such stifling insecurities with the tip of her finger? She has nothing to do with him anymore, no say in what he does, how he lives.

Hyunjin's chest bristles, irritation blinding him cruel. "Why are you here? Huh? Why, after six fucking years, are you here?"

"It's something serious," she snaps, eyes alit at his sudden harshness, tone commanding and unwavering as always. "Don't be so aggressive."

"Fuck you," he spits, his mother's jaw only hardening despite the lack of surprise. He supposes she had become somewhat used to his rude behavior the last year before he left, body submerged in a vicious, uncontrollable rage to come bouncing off the wall with a weakened, tear-stained force.

Hyunjin can feel it all coming back now, running, running, running up his spine like small, vengeful spiders. "Either tell me or I'm leaving."

His mother says nothing for a while, a strange cloud passing across her face as she simply stares blank-eyed into the stifling air between them. Zapped of emotion, face groaning with the sudden ghostlike touches of whiteness, the silence stretches and stretches between them as if cords of a note held for far too long, the melody turning jarring and painful as it continues to inflate.

Hyunjin doesn't know whether to simply leave, unknowing of how many minutes pass between them like that before her lips begin to open, each word rumbled and coated with a sense of detachment, belonging to someone else, anyone, anyone but the woman who speaks them. "He's...dead."

His finger twitches. His eyes blink, the color of the world disappearing in one quick flash before it comes tumbling back together again. Intact, in place. Yet something seems off, an angle, a peaceful shade of blue. Hyunjin blinks. Again and again, the discordance of the world still snapping through him with sharp, flesh-tearing teeth.

The words register in his head too late, too late for him to fully grasp onto. He thinks his head might start to tilt, confused, ignorant. Hyunjin had never known much, no, always swathed in certain shadows untethered from the sun.

"What?" His voice sounds shaky as he speaks, though his limbs remain still. Frozen, cold. His mother's eyes seep with something dark, something murky and deadly, something he's never seen before. He isn't so sure whether he should be scared or concerned. Perhaps both. Maybe neither.

"Last week."

Hyunjin feels a sudden jolt run through his body, bones twisting in a sense of bewilderment as the outline of her words begin to register through the fog shrouding his brain. "What?" An airy, humorless string of laughter spills itself from his mouth. "You're joking."

Of course she was, of course, liar, liar, liar, his mother always knew how to twist the truth into something else, why would she say that, why the fuck would she say that, Hyunjin's stomach burns with unleashed anger, simmering and simmering up to the surface like vicious, vicious coals to scorch him with-

"I'm not," she says, voice broken and yet laced with so much frustration it almost makes him flinch. "This is not something to joke about!"

His anger withers away with the same spirals it had come, a strange, all-consuming numbness floating within his chest as it expands, out, out, out into the dirtied crooks of his flesh. Yes, Hyunjin can tell his mother isn't joking - her eyes clouded with specks of dust, the muscles of her jaw strung with sharpened edges. Face submerged in contradictions - the bliss of nothing, the agony of something with roots too deep for him to ever understand.

He's never seen her like this - the ghost of someone else. Someone weak and frail, life zapped out in one quick, hard-hitting shove.

A needle prickles at his chest. He feels the sting a few seconds too late, the aftershock vibrating in waves throughout the rest of his body. It begins from the heart, stretching, stretching, stretching their way into the remainders of his torso - the nausea of his stomach, the immobility of his arms. The sickened feeling in his throat.

He feels like a different person then, out of body, floating somewhere up above in the distance, that strange, dull-like pain the only thing to anchor him back down again. He swallows, throat so dry he nearly starts dry heaving from the sudden twinge that jerks through him. "How...?"

His mother visibly flinches - softly, subtly. Yet Hyunjin catches it all the same, that sullied shudder which courses through her, lips barely moving despite the weight of the words that bleed themselves dry from her tattered, deserted core. "He killed himself."

Hyunjin almost pukes right then and there. He feels it, sharp and jarring as the bile floods his mouth in tenfold, the acid of his sins blistering his teeth as he clamps a hand over his mouth, fingers quivering in their inability to push it back down again.

Hyunjin swallows too late, tongue damaged and soiled with the taste of death, bones rattling from the sudden looseness of his flesh, that fragile way in which his skeleton threatens to crumble. "What?"

"Hung himself, actually." No. No, no, no. Hyunjin's eyes burn, the taut air making them sting from how they refuse to blink; trapped in their own manmade buzzing. "In the backyard." No, no - she's lying, his mother is lying!

His hands tremble, sharp, discordant pictures flashing through his mind as his chest begins to panic - the coarse silhouette of something large and heavy dangling back and forth, back and forth...Hyunjin finally blinks, forcing it away as he shakes his head, fingers snapping against each other as the disease in his stomach flares back to life. "No-I...he wouldn't..."

His words dwindle into nothingness, hands clutching around his midriff as he tries not to double over from the sudden pain. No, no, no, he couldn't- it couldn't possibly be true and why, why, why would he even-

"Well, he did." His mother's voice draws him back to reality, the colors of the café crashing down around him so suddenly he almost flinches from the shock. Teeth dig harshly into his lips, willing away their weak, childlike tremble.

Still in the back of his mind something refuses to align, that instinctiveness of something that must be wrong, yes surely this was some sort of misunderstanding, this wasn't how things were supposed to go no, no, no-

He draws a sharp intake of breath, exhales spilling from his lips as if infused by poisonous, slaughtered smoke. He's glad he hadn't reached for his cigarette, sure that his lungs would have collapsed already from that deathly taste of ash. Corpselike, ghoulish.

The front of his brain floods with images straight from the tomb, head splitting into a migraine as he clutches it briefly, shoving it down, down, down. It works, the pain settling somewhere in his stomach instead.

"Do you know why..." His question lingers in the air between them before he can stop it, the smell of regret already wafting straight out of his flesh. He doesn't want to know, no, he can't, he can't and yet he needs to know, he has to!

"No," his mother says, voice robotic and void of hues - a reflection of that pallid, bloodless sky above them. "There was no note."

Hyunjin's lower lip trembles, a sudden influx of murky water dripping into his eyes and yet he refuses to let them spill, disbelief coloring him blind and aching. "But...I don't understand. Suicide is a sin, Father John used to preach about it all the time-"

"He must have been in a great pain." Hyunjin only stares at his mother blankly, the stony facade of her face slipping slowly into something sallow and neglected. Despite how rehearsed her words sound Hyunjin thinks there's a pull of rawness within there too. "We mustn't judge him too harshly."

Her suffering had only brought him glee before, a wicked sense of mirth rippling through him. Now it does nothing but make him want to retch, eyes flickering down to the table between them, pupils caught on the mirror of his own - sultry and starved, prowling the barren sand like a flower in search of rain. The flood is coming, Hyunjin thinks, sooner than any tiger lily of the desert could have predicted.

He can imagine it now, that trashy, promiscuous magazine in some stuffy corner of a dust-coated drug store - the one next to his step-father's auto repair shop. Hyunjin thinks he can smell the motor oil and exhaust not too far from here. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, hand twitching to cover his nose.

His mother must've been there, biding her time, looking for cheap brands, filtering through a flimsy newspaper in search of coupons. How strange it must have looked, how jarring - him, Tiger Lily, crammed in that rack of dirty magazines his mother always made sure to not-so-subtly glare at with distaste.

He wonders what she'd thought then, how it must have looked as she hastily bought it, panic and disbelief rummaging through her. Their town was small; narrow. People knew who he was, even if it was only through his parents. He went to church, kept his head ducked down. Nobody talked to him, nobody cared.

Still they knew, their town was too small not to. His eyes never leave the magazine, a strange, airy feeling inflating inside of him. Was he even recognizable?

"The magazine...did he..." his throat turns scratchy as he speaks, littered still with the remnants of scalding, unpredictable acid, "did he see it?"

His mother gives it a quick flash of the eyes, something loathsome glimmering upon her face before she purses her lips, shoving it forcefully down to fester in peace. "Hopefully not. I hid it from him."

"Why?" His lips feel cracked; aching. Voice belonging to someone else. He already knows the answer before it comes barreling straight into him. He doesn't know why'd he asked. Sometimes he thinks he can't wait for the confirmation of his own worst suspicions as if they were his lifeline - the very feed of his throbbing belly.

"To spare him of such wretched disappointment!" His mother's anger flares back to life, pupils seething with all the hurt and rage that keeps her going day after day. "Look at you."

A foreign twinge scrapes along the insides of his stomach. Rather than feeling small and ashamed beneath the hatred of his mother's gaze he feels...no, Hyunjin shakes his head, that can't be it. Sickness swirls in his gut, bile coating the insides of his throat. Disappointed? He swallows, crushing the word to dust with the sharp knuckles of his fist, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until there's nothing left to hurt him with.

He doesn't care whether his step-father saw the magazine or not, doesn't care what he'd think, if he'd liked it or hated it, if it had even crossed his mind in the slightest. No, no he doesn't care, why should he really? He'd left at last and refused to think of him any more - why should things change now just because...Hyunjin's lower lip wobbles, jaw clenching and unclenching rapidly. Just because he's dead?

No, not just dead. Killed himself. Because of...he doesn't care why, doesn't care at all, no, no, no...he doesn't, he doesn't! His eye twitches, something heavy pressing down on his chest. Because of him?

Hyunjin blinks, nails digging into his thighs hard enough for him to jolt back to reality, face drained of any color as he stares into his mother's face, that horrid static buzzing from before floating somewhere in the distance. There's a strange chill in his bones, an ache in jaw. Almost as if he's sick, infected by a sudden cold - throbbing limbs and a runny nose. A mind that only sears itself again and again and again.

He wonders how much ash and blood would coat his tongue if he suddenly decided to cough. He doesn't, only swallows it instead. The taste drapes itself welcomely over his teeth. Bitter. Worn down. "Why did you come all the way here to tell me this?"

His mother speaks slowly then, the wheels of her heart whirring back to life just a few seconds too late. There's a discordance in the way she holds herself, a chip missing from the porcelain of her skin. "There's a funeral." In the deepest, sickest parts of his mind he wonders if she's even really sad at all. Happy, even? Hyunjin frowns. Is he? "In one week."

He blinks, pinching the thought away. Black veils and mourning hymns. Silk the color of spiders, large, earthly oak and then - a casket. Sunken eyes, ashen skin. A putrid, rotten stench. Hyunjin peers into it, not sure who it belongs to. "A funeral?"

"Yes." Clouds of cotton drape themselves across her eyes, stuffy and far away. Hyunjin wants to reach out and throttle her shoulders, shake, shake, shake her into something that can for once look truth in its eye. "Back home." Hyunjin sinks in on himself, foolishness cascading through his bones. "At our church." He was no better than her, bathed in the bliss of being blind.

No, Hyunjin thinks, they aren't the same. His mother had simply turned her head, shut her eyes. His own had been gouged out, trails of blood on the floor to prove it.

"And you want me to come?"

His mother raises her chin slightly, head turning somewhere to the side to stare into the distance. "It would be disrespectful not to. And he would want you there."

His face carves its way into his mind, sudden spouts of anger tunneling through him. Hyunjin scoffs, bitterness dripping down his tongue like vials of poison. "I'm sure he would."

She gives him a strange look then, one he isn't quite sure she's decided to fully commit to. Her jaw clicks, lips pursing in that way they always did when someone at church said something disagreeable. The subtlest allowance of anger, the withering expectation of keeping up appearances.

"He was distraught when you left." The words sound airy as she speak, something guarded and sickly looming behind them. "He worried endlessly."

Hyunjin's stomach swoops, body jolting at the sudden information. He wants to bash his head against the table, not quite sure why he even cares at all. Of course he'd wondered, mind reeling and unraveling in one, two, threes, what his step-father had thought that following morning, his little dove far away despite its broken wing.

Hyunjin had tried not to give it much thought, sure that doing so would only drive him to insanity and yet now...distraught? Distraught? What did she mean by that? Had there been tears, anger? Guilt? Hatred? No...surely not that last one...he could never hate him, no, not his dove...

Hyunjin's face pales, skin nothing but an echo of the snow he's never seen. He doesn't care, doesn't care at all. His mind screams at him, talons clawing their way straight into his brain. Liar, liar, liar! "Why didn't he call the police?"

"I don't know," his mother says, waving it off as if it weren't of any importance. Anger flares within him once more, a deep-seated stretching of those roots which had always pulled him down, down, down, choking and stifling him, shoving his face into the dirt as he sputtered out all petals of lily white within until there was nothing left. Nothing but mangled clumps of earth and soil, a few hardened jewels within there too for the plucking. Shiny and pretty - perfect for the dark of night.

He stares at her unmoving, eye twitching as rage renders him quiet and lethal, all the hatred he'd spent cultivating toward her bundling up into one hot, poorly repressed jab in his stomach. "You know why."

Yes, she knows, had always known, had known from the very first day that jewel had been stolen, that wretched thief taking things that didn't belong to him!

Hyunjin knew when he left that he wouldn't call the police. His mother knows why, of course she does, how could she not when she'd slept upon that bed night after night, cardboard boxes gathering dust beneath it from her refusal to open their lids. Video tapes. Pictures. There must be hundreds of them.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice remains steely as it cuts through the air. Determined, challenging him to prove her wrong. She knows he won't. He could never bring himself to say it. The anger only doubles in his chest. He hates when she's right. "Are you coming to the funeral or not?"

He smiles sweetly then, mocking and cruel, body trapped to the past of a juvenile, ill-mannered temper. "Sure, I'll gladly dance on his grave."

"You rotten child, don't speak like that!" Her reaction had been predictable, immediate and hot-headed and yet the words grate through his mind with all the needles they carry. Hyunjin's eye twitches, swallowing the sudden urge to run away with shame blistering his throat.

He can't stay there any longer, the sudden feeling of a rash erupting all across his flesh, chest clogged and scorching with things that just make him want to itch, itch, itch it away until his fingernails are left brittle and bloodied.

"Is that it?" Dust coats the insides of his mouth, stomach dropping each time he's reminded of why she had come there in the first place. He keeps forgetting, the truth slipping away from his mind before something kicks harshly back into place.

His mother stares at him unnervingly, head tilted just the tiniest bit to the side. Confused, impatient. "What?"

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?" His words repeat themselves harsher, louder than he intends them to and yet his entire being whirrs with the need to get out of there, his mother's face splintering away at everything he is with each dragging, butchering second.

"Yes." Hollow, bleak. The echo of her voice paints itself with shadows; something lingering closely behind. Still it's all she says, words caught in her throat like they always seem to be.

Hyunjin doesn't care then, what she truly, unequivocally longs to say, head only falling into a sharp nod as he stands back up, the sound of the chair scraping jarring through the deadened air around them.

"Okay. Then I'll be leaving now." He gives her only the briefest of looks before turning around, that lightheaded feeling of his inflated chest expanding all across his body as he feels the familiar weight of the concrete below him, mind nothing but a numbing, distant racket to keep his heart beating and intact.

He doesn't know how many steps he takes then not thinking at all, no, no, no, not at all. Not at all. Really the death of his step-father doesn't concern him, no, not since he'd decided to leave all those years ago, so why does he care? He doesn't. He doesn't. Hyunjin's steps falter, a sudden sob choking its way up his throat as he clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle it.

Somewhere in the distance a shadow creeps its way into his vision, something large and humanlike. It stands up on its tippy toes, reaching for a branch. One, two, three and then BAM - Hyunjin squeezes his eyes shut, turning his head away. He doesn't wanna see, no, no, no he doesn't wanna look. If he hadn't left...would he still...would he still...

The palms of his hand dig their way into his eyes, vision turning spotty and white as he shakes his head in denial, breathing rendered sharp and erratic as his chest begins to heave. Something hot like pus explodes inside his stomach, molten lava blistering his skin until he's sure it's turned reddened and raw. Someone touches him then, his body jolting from the shock as his eyes bulge open.

Changbin stares at him softly and worried, forehead creased in concern as Hyunjin's breathing steadies itself shakily. He'd promised to meet him afterward, yes, Hyunjin had nearly forgotten.

The sight of his face clicks something within him, vision blurry and yet sharply focused on some of the buildings in the distance. His chest falls back into regular upheavals, the hot, burning coals of his insides seeping away and replacing themselves with ice instead.

"Hyunjin. Are you okay?"

A chill runs through him, body shivering as he tries to catch the slow movements of Changbin's mouth. Hyunjin only blinks, distracted he thinks, by how cold it's suddenly gotten.

"Are you okay?"

Oh. So that's what he'd asked him. Okay? Yes, yes, why wouldn't he be. He nods, not quite sure whether Changbin catches it or not from how his own gaze keeps flickering around to other things. A low voice rumbles through his ear then, though he isn't quite sure what's being said.

Everything feels weird. Tingly. As if in a daze. And yet...he feels nothing, he thinks. Nothing at all. His hands move on their own, his feet tread as they're used to. He can hear, though just slightly, how they begin to trail their way back home.

Yes, he feels nothing at all. Only the slight chill of his bones but he thinks that's just because the sun is nowhere to be found. Nothing strange then. Nothing unusual.

His existence remains unchanged despite it all. Everything's the same, yes everything's the same. Even his apartment he realizes, though it only reaches the faintest of thoughts in the back of his head.

He feels his body slump tiredly into his couch, eyes trained upon his wall, trying to catch its creases. He needs to count them he thinks and yet he isn't quite sure why...the sofa dips by his side, nervous breaths snaking their way into his ear.

Hyunjin turns to the side then, peering into Changbin as his hand comes crawling up his thigh. Hyunjin's eyes flicker down to it quickly, though it makes him feel nothing. He stares back up at him. Changbin looks worried. Anxious. He shouldn't be, Hyunjin thinks, numbness stretching its way inside of him like pleasant, fluttering petals.

"Hey," his voice comes out soothing, gentle. Hyunjin only blinks. "What...what happened?"

"He's dead." The words echo dully in the air, their curves a bleary hue of gray. Automatic. Robotic. The image of his mother's face flashes swiftly through his mind. It makes his fingers twitch, just slightly.

"What?" Changbin breathes out, expression screwed up into something of a panicked disbelief. "Who?"

Hyunjin jolts a little then. Who? His hand trembles, though the rest of his body remains perfectly empty. He wishes he had the privilege of asking such a question. "My stepfather."

"Oh my God. Hyunjin, that's- Jesus. Are you okay?" There's a trail of sludge in their backyard, large and winding. Had he followed it? Had it lead the way up to the tree? "That's what she wanted to tell you?"

Faintly he registers himself nodding. Was it spontaneous, in the moment? Overcome by rage and grief so out of the blue? Or had it been planned, meticulous and cruel, leaving his mother in the dust of his death? Maybe she deserved it, but still. How could he leave her like that? How could he leave him like that? The muscles in his jaw ache as he bites down harshly. "There's going to be a funeral back home. Next week."

Why does he care? He doesn't, he doesn't. Why hadn't there been a note?

"Are you thinking of going?"

Had his mother even looked thoroughly? Maybe she lied, maybe it contained things she couldn't speak of...but why...no, Hyunjin doesn't understand. His mouth twitches, something heavy throbbing in his head. "He killed himself."

"What?"

That tree, its old, thick spine sturdy and large. He'd lean against it sometimes, sweat dripping down his forehead. The sun was always unbearable back then.

"He hung himself."

Does the body of a tree swing itself like the hand of a clock? Do its branches? Tick tock, tick tock. How long until it falls down? How long until someone sees, until someone can catch it?

"Oh my God-"

"It's my fault." Had his mother screamed when she found it or had the sound simply strangled its way to the back of her throat? Had she cried? Cursed? Had she prayed to God then, knees digging into the scorching sand of such barren, lifeless land? Or had she stopped believing all together? If she ever stopped believing, she would've done so a long time ago.

"What?" Hyunjin's eyes flicker up to Changbin, his voice laced with incredulity and sadness. Hyunjin hates making him sad. "She said that?"

"No...there was no note." What other reason could there possibly be - little dove escaped from its cage, abandoning its home. Its birdkeeper. Always so nice, feeding him, petting him. Plucking off his feathers one by one. "But I know it's my fault."

Changbin's eyebrows furrow, the insistence with which he speaks like a knife to his gut. "Hyunjin how can you know that?" Changbin always sees the best in him, always believes in the goodness of others. Of him. "It's not your fault, why would it be your fault?"

But Changbin doesn't know him the way his mother does, doesn't know the way his footprints scatter in the dirt of his backyard, how they tremble and break, rooting themselves to the soils of the earth. Little bug, little beast. "I can't tell you."

"Hyunjin you can tell me anything." Changbin stares at him pleadingly, yearningly. Hyunjin wants to give him everything, everything, everything and yet he can't. Can't even give him a splinter. "Please tell me. Please." Not when there's nothing left, anyway.

"No...I can't...I..." the branch cracks after a while, surely it does, "I don't know what I feel..." body hitting the ground, thump, thump, thump, "I don't understand..." the imprints of his boots splattered against the dirt, thick and heavy. Are they still here? Had the rain washed them away? No...it never rained...not out there in the wasteland...

Hot, sweltering creeks, the murmur of hummingbirds up above in the treetops. Had they heard that awful sound, could they sense the impending scent of something slaughtered? Changbin's eyes reflect their shimmery feathers within them, stifled with foreboding, an omen of something wicked yet to come.

His pupils shatter in the thinned, matted vision of Hyunjin's own eyes, bleeding silently upon the couch, trickling down onto the floor. Changbin speaks as if nothing else had ever mattered. "Hyunjin, this is big news, your emotions are bound to get confusing." Despite the lack of rain, something heavy falls from the sky outside the windowpane. "It's okay, you have every right to feel whatever you feel." Hyunjin refuses to look, doesn't want to see what it is. "Sad, angry, numb...happy even." How it splatters upon the ground, ghastly and disfigured! "It's understandable." No, he refuses to look.

Darkened, berry-scented petals of corpse flowers crown above his head, tinting him blue and abandoned. His lips crack from the cold, breath frozen in the air of such wintertime. "I feel nothing."

"And that's okay." Changbin places his hand on his thigh again, squeezing it gently. Comfortingly. "That's okay." Something knowing lurks in his gaze, something guarded and wary. Hyunjin doesn't know what it means. "But you're allowed to feel sad...just don't...don't get angry at yourself for it."

"I'm not sad." The words tumble out of him as if on instinct, quick and jumbled, eyes flickering back to the ridges of the wall. So dull, so plain, that unremarkable wallpaper. His head throbs once more, stare sloping it's way back to Changbin. He isn't so sure who he's trying to convince anymore.

Changbin's forehead creases, voice heavy with thick, desperate lead. The air turns more rigid still, the tips of his fingers stinging from rawness of the world. "But if you were...I'm telling you that it would be okay. Perfectly normal, even."

Hyunjin frowns then. He blinks a few times, feeling as though everything had simply moved too fast without him having the chance to catch up. Sad? Isn't that normal...why was Changbin acting like it wasn't?

"Why are you saying it like I shouldn't be?" His voice paints itself low and hidden, an abandoned sound only loud enough for those who truly lean down to listen. He stares up at Changbin with wide, glossy eyes, the haze within them unclouding for the first time that day. Year perhaps. Life.

He wishes Changbin could give him all the answers to that which he knows he'll never ask. "Don't most people get sad when someone they know dies?"

Changbin's gaze flickers all across his face as if soaking him in for the very first time, carving their way from his forehead, brushing against his eyelids, the top of his nose, the curve of his lips. Down, down, down until they come tracing the outline of his chin, again and again and again, engraving each flaw and grace into himself. Never to be forgotten. Never to be let go.

When he speaks, it sings itself like a whisper. Gentle and quiet. Careful not to scare the chirping birds up above. "Yes...they do. So, are you?"

The question rings in his ear as if coated with thick, stifling fur to muffle its sound and yet Hyunjin hears it all the same, feels within him the way it cracks and splinters through his bones, chips away at his flesh until it comes striking him straight in the heart.

His lower lip wobbles, eyes brimming with tears as his body begins its sickly, homebound quiver of childhood. "Yes."

"And angry?"

His sob wracks its way throughout his chest, comes bubbling up his throat without any intent to stop it. Changbin stares at him with all the patience in the world, nurturing each word he cries as if he would one day be able to coax them into something gentle. "Yes."

"And..." Changbin looks a little unsure of himself then, forehead creasing as if not quite knowing what to say. Yet he says it anyway, the word like a sick, sick jab to his gut. "And...happy?"

Hyunjin stifles a sob then, hands coming up to wipe at his eyes as Changbin helps hold them still through their tremor. He thinks carefully about that sound, the way your mouth moves and stretches its outline - happy, happy, happy. Happy? No, no, no that would be cruel and yet...Hyunjin's body shivers, limbs aching from how tightly strung they've become.

Changbin finds a blanket quickly, wrapping it around his shoulders as Hyunjin clutches onto the fabric tightly, wishing he could bury his face within it and simply sink far, far away.

He sniffles then, the sudden warmth mellowing his tremble just momentarily. He takes a shaky, guilt-ridden breath, eyes shifting everywhere from how they refuse to land on Changbin for more than a few seconds. "Not happy, more...relieved." The words sear themselves like a shameful, terrified whisper, the truth in which they carry paralyzing him to the core.

No more flinching from sudden knocks at his door, no more scanning the crowd of his watchers in a sickened sense of fear and desire for a familiar face. No more wondering what he's doing, if he's thinking of him, trying to find him.

No more going to bed at three in the night, though Hyunjin supposes he hadn't done that in a long time. No more pondering what he'd say, what he'd think, if he could see him right now.

His teeth bite into his lip harshly, pain flaring up from his stomach. He wouldn't ever see him again. Wouldn't ever have to hear his voice, succumb to his words like pliant flowers yielding toward the sun. Wouldn't ever get to tell him how he felt, to scream and cry and hit, hit, hit.

To hear an apology, a begging of forgiveness. To hear that name again, that sweet, sickly little name as it rung in the throes of a devoted, sinful night. Hyunjin's lower lip trembles once more, vision stifled by salt as his cries begin to fall. He wishes he could hear it again. Just one more time, one last time. Little dove, little bird.

He clamps a hand over his mouth then, wishing he could rip it right off. Disgusting, disgusting, rotten little boy-

"Do you wanna tell me why?" Changbin stares at him softly, his question the final breaking point as Hyunjin sobs, chest heaving erratically as he shakes his head firmly in denial - no, no, no, it was happening, it was finally happening, the sullied, dirtied craters of his core were tumbling up at last only to spit themselves in Changbin's lap, their decayed, repulsive scent too much, too putrid for any man to withstand.

"No, no." Pitiful, aching cries echo between them miserably. "I can't, I can't tell you, I can't."

"Why not?"

Changbin can't go, he can't, he can't and what is he supposed to do all alone, how is he supposed to live, to be, to walk the reminders of everything he had day after day, no the pain would be too much to bear, too much to even hold in the meagre palm of his hand and yet it was already beginning, his heart squeezing painfully as he sobs, agony aching within each brittle bone of his sins.

"B-because you can't know, you just can't- I can't have you leave me." His eyes flutter shut, a wretched cry quivering through him as he shakes. "I d-don't know what I'll d-do then."

Changbin tries to take hold of his rocking body gently but Hyunjin rips himself away, tightening the blanket around him as he buries his eyes into the palms of his hand, digging, digging, digging until he can see nothing but whitened specks of an unreachable snow.

"Hyunjin, I'm not gonna leave you." Liar, liar, liar! "I promise." Don't tempt him with such empty words, don't do this to him, don't do this! "We're in this together, through pain, through heartache." Please, please, please don't do this to him. "I'm not going anywhere."

But Hyunjin isn't stupid, no and Changbin shouldn't say things he doesn't mean! His voice wobbles, body lurching from the sudden sweat that erupts down his back, a clawing, horrid feeling circling his gut like a predator, ready, eager to pounce and consume him whole.

"Y-yes you will, once y-you know..." he sobs again, refusing to make eye contact as he closes them once more, transporting himself somewhere far, far away. A meadow, the beach - a stupid castle in the sky. His finger twitches, jaw aching from how hard he clenches. It's useless, Hyunjin thinks, as they flutter open bleakly. He always ends up in the worn-out craters of his childhood anyway.

Soft touches graze along his hand then, cradling them gently in his own hold. Hyunjin turns to look at him, Changbin's eyes coated with all the sorrow and weight he carries. His words float between them heavily, veiled and brushed with something that terrifies him straight to his core. "Hyunjin I think I already know."

His body jolts, all the color draining from his face as he tries not to vomit all over him. "Oh God...no no no no, please tell me you don't-"

Dread spirals down his spine like cold, running water, the image of the two of them chipping away cruelly in front of his eyes. "Hey, it's okay-"

"It's so disgusting, so disgusting." He can see it then, so clearly, how Changbin withers to dust right in front of him, scattered out of his grasp as he dry heaves, sobs plummeting through him with ugly, distorted sounds.

Knees tucked away against the wallpaper of his bedroom. "It changes nothing, I promise." Peeling, peeling, peeling as he sits there. Day after day, careful not to make a sound. "You're not disgusting, I could never see you that way." The door opens, the hinges creaking as Hyunjin flinches. "You're beautiful, Hyunjin, so so beautiful." But it's okay, it's okay because he knows what to do, how to be. The prettiest, the most desirable. The best. "No matter what he did-"

"Stop," Hyunjin wails, hands coming to cover his ears as he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want to hear anymore, he can't, he can't! "Stop, stop, stop."

Rocking back and forth upon the weakened tatters of his remains, Hyunjin falls into the clasp of one final, gut-wrenching destruction, all the strings to hold him up splattering against the ground as his body crumbles, Changbin catching him firmly, arms wrapped around the fragments of his pain.

Hyunjin sobs into his chest, ribcage throbbing from the force as he feels his face begin to wet - the stinging salt of his tears, the diseased snot that runs from his nose, dripping down, down, down as he convulses pathetically.

Hyunjin doesn't know how long he sits there, soaked in the cries of his past, heart cracking and cracking with each weep his limbs droop into, the trembles of his bones forced into mourning at last. Mourning for who, Hyunjin isn't quite sure, the grief within spilling away without any care in the world; untethered, for once.

Yes, through the course of time spent unknown, Hyunjin mourns the faces that have flashed throughout his life, his cries the only lament he knows in which to grieve them. His stepfather, swinging back and forth, back and forth like the hand of a clock, thump, thump, thump against the ground. Hyunjin sobs harder then, fists clutching onto the shirt in front of him, terrified to let go.

His mother, her face cold and broken as she stares into the foggy wasteland of the air. Nowhere to go, nothing to be. Not without her anger, not without her pain. Hyunjin breathes in deeply, his exhale shattering into haunting, deadened cries.

Changbin, sweet, gentle Changbin who's always there for him, who Hyunjin can't live without. And Jia too, dark hair fluttering in the wind as she spirals all around, laughter echoing off the walls of their apartment, no, their home. Hyunjin can feel his eyes go swollen from how harshly his tears spill, sob muffled yet piercing against Changbin's chest.

He can't let them go, he can't, he can't, mourns the three-leafed clover of their family like nothing else, crying, crying, crying until he's sure he has no tears left to spill.

And then - body shaking, soul bleeding - himself. Young and innocent, washed away upon the shore right in front of him. He laughs at something funny on the TV, his mother hushing him to be quiet. Wide-eyed and anxious, he obeys. And obeys and obeys.

Hyunjin's chest heaves, wails punched out of him unable to control themselves. He's seven. Seven and scared - naive, ignorant. He loves to dance, loves to stretch his limbs like they do on the screen. He doesn't do it anymore, no. His body hurts. His stomach aches.

He's seven when he discovers for the first time that he's pretty. Wanted. His mother used to tell him the opposite, ugly little creature. Now Hyunjin knows it's a lie. He's beautiful. Beautiful. He likes that word.

He's seven when someone kills him, seven when he's reborn again. Hyunjin's sobs thicken. He mourns that little boy harder than anyone else.

Pitiful, hopeful. Naive to the world yet well-versed with its pain. He's twenty-three now. He doesn't think much has changed.

His cries double, the throb in his chest inflating. Changbin holds him through it all, steady and firm, gentle, gentle, gentle. Like cradling something not quite fragile like glass and easy to break, but something precious, something loved. Hyunjin lets him, wishes he could've fallen into his arms a long time ago.

No, he doesn't know how long he sits there and yet he knows that through it all, Changbin's hold on him never wavers. Never retreats, not even for a second. Hyunjin clutches onto him harder, knuckles turning white as he refuses to let go, erratic breathing inhaling every familiar, comforting scent of the man before him that he possibly can. It helps, even if just slightly.

His cries subdue to quiet sniffles, body falling limp in his grasp. Changbin strokes his hair fondly, arms brushing up his back, circling down his spine. Changbin has always been there for him, always, always. Patient. Steady.

Hyunjin cries once more, guilt and shame erupting through his bones. Changbin deserves to know the truth, deserves to see him wholly and complete. Hyunjin has given him all of his broken shreds, poured them into his soul with the fearful knowledge that Changbin would take care of them. And he had. He had. Changbin always kept his promise.

Still splinters remain, sharp and painful as they burrow into his flesh. Changbin wants to lodge them out. Hyunjin doesn't want to hurt him, doesn't want him to see the wounds beneath. An ugly sight, a monstrous one.

Reluctantly Hyunjin cranes his head back up again, his eyelids heavy and exhausted. Changbin looks at him yearningly, pain shimmering in his eyes. He's been crying too, Hyunjin realizes. Silent tears kept selflessly at bay.

Maybe seeing him like this - aching and wracked in sobs - was more painful to Changbin than anything else. And just for a moment, a short, tiresome second that shrouds itself around his head, Hyunjin believes that it is.

His voice sounds drained as it tumbles out, raspy and worn-down. "Don't go running when you realize I'm nothing but a waste of energy." He doesn't have any strength anymore, nothing to hold him up, nothing to push him down. Changbin will hold him. He knows he will.

"I won't." Changbin wraps his arms around him as if it were the most important thing in the world. Perhaps to him, it is. This time Hyunjin doesn't try to understand, simply lets it be. "I promise, I won't."

"I'm just so tired." He feels weak, exhausted. Seconds away from shutting his eyes and never opening them again. Changbin nods, hands holding his face gently as he strokes it, thumb brushing against his lips as if memorizing them by touch.

"I know you are Hyunjin." Hushed, quiet, the words fall between them like a whispered, cherished promise. "I know. Let me in, please." Hyunjin leans into them, traces their outline with all the strength he has left. "Let me help you rest."

"Okay," he croaks. He's too tired to fight anymore. "Okay."

The stillness between them expands dully as his tongue tries to form the right sounds, Changbin staring at him gently, patiently. Hyunjin trusts him, reaches into his own chest as he carves out his heart, digging, digging, digging until he hands it over, that small, trampled piece of neglect.

He's never told anyone, doesn't know where to begin, how to start. Yet Changbin protects that beastly heart like it's the most precious thing he's ever known. No matter how much it bleeds, no matter how much it rots.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath, tears springing to his eyes once more. Stuck inside that trodden creature, there's a weathered, old knife. It's lodged too far deep for anyone to get it out, Hyunjin knows that it is. He tries to ignore it, numbs its pain with all that he can. Not anymore, he thinks, not when Changbin keeps it safe.

And so slowly, hesitantly, - one, two, three - Hyunjin starts to twist.

"My real...my real father left before I was born." His mother's words echo in his ear, cursing him for his existence. Sadness spirals up his throat. "And my mother she-she resented me for it." The low light of their kitchen turns her sneers cruel and monstrous beneath their wicked glow. He can feel it so vividly, the blisters of her glares. "Every day she let me know how much she hated me...she was just so...so mean."

Tears stream down his cheek then, Changbin stroking them gently away. Hyunjin sniffles, voice shaky and bruised. "I could never do anything right." Rotten, rotten boy. "If I made her a d-drawing she-she would tear it to p-pieces right in front of me. If I laughed t-too much, I was annoying. If-if I cried, I was disgusting and...and weak."

Another sob wracks through him, his hands wiping at his eyes harshly. Changbin listens to him with all the devotion and care of the world. Hyunjin wants to rip his gaze away but he can't, he can't. Trembling, Hyunjin clutches onto his shirt, desperate for his closeness.

"She m-married my stepfather when I w-was five and..." visions flash through his brain, eyes squeezing shut as he wills them away. He breathes deeply, trying to steady his shaking. He can get through this, he can, he can. Opening his eyes again, Hyunjin stares at him intently, determined not to falter. "At first I hated it because...well...sometimes, if I was being annoying, she w-would tell him to hit me. And he did." His face twists in revulsion, pain battering his soul. "B-but whenever we were alone, he was m-much nicer."

Voice dwindling into a whisper, Hyunjin breathes out each word like a shameful, guilty secret. "I l-liked him then. When we were alone." He sniffles, lower lip quivering like a child. "Sometimes he'd give me extra food...he'd pay me attention. And then one day..." he can feel his heart stop, years and years of being shunned to the corner culminating within him, terror seizing his bones, body erupting into a cold sweat once more, "when I saw seven, he..." he can't do this, no he can't, he can't, "he...came into my room in the m-middle of the n-night and..." he made a promise not to tell, he promised to keep it a secret yes, or God would punish him, "he crawled into the bed and-"

Hyunjin freezes, fingers trembling against the fabric of Changbin's shirt, "and-" Changbin stares at him patiently, the weight of his words crashing into him so suddenly he can all but bury his face into his hands, shaking his head back and forth, back and forth, no, no, no, no, no, "I-I c-can't say it."

"Shh, it's okay." Changbin's arms squeeze around him gently, pulling him down onto his chest. "It's okay." Hyunjin lets himself fall, sobbing once more as he feels soothing fingers run comfortingly through his hair. "You're not disgusting Hyunjin, you're not."

He'd promised to keep it a secret yes, he'd promised but he was dead now, gone, gone, gone and yet...the memory was anything but, distorted colors flickering through his vision like cinders to burn him with. He sniffles quietly against his chest, voice croaking as he speaks. He wants to get them out, out, out, their imprints dirtying his soul the longer he lets them cling there like a disease.

"At first...he would just...t-touch himself in front of me," his room always became suffocating at night, sticky sheets whispering mean words against his ear, begging him, forcing him to be quiet, "I didn't u-understand what was happening b-but he t-told me n-not to say anything so I-I didn't," good boys keep their mouths shut, yes, good boys know how to keep a secret, "then...he started...touching me and-"

Hyunjin panics then, insistence bleeding throughout his voice as he looks back up at Changbin, eyes wide and urgent, voice trembling out in shameful splinters. "I-I told h-him that it was w-weird, I t-told him I didn't l-like it but..." his lower lip wobbles, eyes clouding with tears, "but he said t-that it made him h-happy...and I didn't w-want to disappoint him, did I? So I did it."

Disgusting, disgusting, Hyunjin can practically feel all the bugs crawling up his skin again, pleading with him, demanding him to stop and yet his pain tumbles out of him like the flood, unable to go back to shadowed corners now that it's finally gotten a taste of sunlight.

"I did it b-because I wanted to b-be good and I n-never said anything and," his voice chokes then, Changbin's hold around him tightening protectively, "at d-dinner I w-would get so scared because I knew-I knew it w-was almost time for bed and I couldn't-I couldn't breathe and my stomach w-was always in pain but- my mom didn't-didn't care, she s-said nothing."

He sobs into his hands, Changbin straightening his back to pull him gently into the nook of his neck, Hyunjin falling into it gratefully as he weeps away that which never ceases to ache. He sniffles, forcing his breathing to flutter more steadily as he turns his face back to look at him, acid coating the insides of his throat.

He can't go back now, can't pluck away his words and stuff them into his mouth again, fingers jerking as they clutch onto his shirt once more, desperate and frightened.

He stares the shiny vessel of terror that had followed him all those years ago straight in the eye, piecing the chips together again as the picture comes back to haunt him, each admittance of truth like vials of poison to infuse themselves into the air except...yes, Hyunjin understands that admitting it doesn't make it more real, doesn't change the fact that his sins still unfolded they way they did and yet something, somehow, shifts irreparably within him then, chewing him up from the inside and spitting him out onto the barren ground below, not caring, not checking to see if there was anybody there to catch him.

"And then...and then we started...having sex." Grimy and shattered, Hyunjin falls down, down, down, blind to the pearl of his fate. "The first times h-hurt s-so much, so much." He can only pray, plead to a God he stopped believing in a long time ago that the landing won't ache, at least not that much. "B-but I got used to it. He...he told me what to do."

Changbin would be there, yes Changbin would be there to catch him. "He t-taught me everything...h-how to please him." Changbin would be there, ready and kind, stable as always. Deserving of someone better and yet coming back for him all the same. "And the worst part was that he was so nice."

Hyunjin buries his face into his hands then, sobs wreaking through his body as he thinks of his mother's empty, hollow eyes. He'd dead, dead, dead. Killed himself. Hung himself actually. "He was always so n-nice. He'd tell me h-how good I was, how p-pretty, how beautiful...I l-liked it when he said that b-because...it made me feel good. H-he made me feel s-special."

"Hyunjin, there's nothing wrong with your reaction," Changbin soothes, coaxing him gently to look back up again, his voice laced in insistence and pain as he takes hold of his hands in his own firm grip. "That's normal, that doesn't make you disgusting."

Hyunjin stares at him brokenly, lip wobbling as grief and revulsion overcomes him whole, uncertain of how one could even come to feel them all at the same time. "He told me that I was special and that it was our little secret. Our little game." Dust-coated windows, threadbare sheets. The distinct smell of something rotten. Hyunjin would never be able to run away from that house.

"He-he used to call me his little dove, h-his little b-bird." He sniffles, disbelief coating his words as he speaks them out loud, hearing for the first time how foreign, how strange it all sounded. "H-he told me that it was God's plan for us, that I was being a good boy and doing God's bidding."

Hyunjin shakes his head, quivers running down his body. "I was so confused, I-I didn't understand and I just wished there was someone who could explain it to me, b-but I didn't have any friends. Nobody ever t-talked to me, they all thought I was w-weird at school. They m-made fun of me. B-bullied me."

His fingers hurt from how tightly they clutch at the blanket around him, that sickly sensation of dread pooling within as each word coats itself with vomit, throat scorching before he can stop it and he needs to stop it, needs to stop talking now and yet he can't, he can't, can't strangle the truth before it tumbles into his lap with a weeping, pitiful thud.

"Bunny was m-my only friend but then my mother k-killed him and I just...I just w-wanted to hurt her and...I k-knew it would h-hurt her if I-if I p-purposefully g-gave him attention in front of her and so I did." Hyunjin sobs again, loathing and horror seizing him whole, grating their sharpened talons against his bones as they scrape them away into something slaughtered and he needs to get them out, out, out now!

"I l-liked it. I liked his attention, I liked it w-when he told me I was b-beautiful, I r-rubbed it in her f-face because I knew she wouldn't do-do anything about it-and it's so disgusting. I'm so disgusting."

"You're not Hyunjin, you're not," Changbin strokes his back gently as he cries, lifting his chin up so that he can't look away, gaze brimming with all the determination and devotion he carries. "I would never tell you that because it isn't true."

How could Changbin say something like that, how could he believe something like that? Hyunjin shakes his head, accepting his own death as he presses further, mind withering to cracks as stares into him resolutely. "I craved his affection." He needs Changbin to understand, needs him to understand who he truly, unequivocally is before he starts to get his hopes up - that rotten child in the spiderweb. Finally, finally Changbin will know who he is.

"I was excited when he came into my room, I felt good when he touched me." Each admittance makes his heart sink, his stomach hardening with swells of nausea. "I felt beautiful. Special." Still he needs to say it, needs to rid himself of his secrets, so tightly locked away. So tightly lodged into his soul. "I wanted his attention, I wanted him to notice me constantly."

He looks down then, gaze boring pitiful holes into his lap. "He-he'd take...pictures of me." This was a bad idea, bad, bad, bad. "Film me. All that stuff." He can't take it back now, no, it's too late. Too late. Hyunjin was always too late. "I wanted to be good for him."

A teardrop spills from his cheek and into his lap, his body slow in its digestion of his new fate, alone and used, doomed to repeat the sluggish days of spinning on a pole until he day one breaks his legs and lies there helplessly on the stage. No more Changbin, no more Jia. No more family - the word like a sick, cruel joke as his body begins to quiver, tears spilling from his eyes with the easiness of breathing.

"Hey, look at me." Changbin takes hold of him then, arms strong and firm around him, soft finger lifting up his chin once more. Hyunjin only stares at him pitifully, eyes wide and glassy, lower lip wobbling uncontrollably. "That man took advantage of you. He manipulated you. You were just a child Hyunjin, you didn't do anything wrong."

Hyunjin shakes his head, his words falling on deaf, aching ears. "B-but I let him, I en-encouraged him-"

"You were a child just looking for affection." Changbin loops his fingers beneath his jaw, cradling his face earnestly as he gazes into him. Hyunjin swallows, all his attention avidly focused on the man before him. He can hear each breath he takes like it's the only thing that matters, the only lifeline he has left. "It's not your fault Hyunjin, none of this is your fault. Listen to me, okay? It's normal. It's normal to crave love when you've never experienced it, no matter how or from who you get it."

Changbin's forehead creases then, lips falling into a small pout as if the mere thought of Hyunjin thinking otherwise was too much to bear. "That doesn't mean you encouraged it, that doesn't mean you did anything wrong. I don't think you're disgusting. I could never think that."

Changbin's eyes flicker all across his face, similar to the way he had done before, Hyunjin following his gaze with all desperation and hope he carries. "Hyunjin, you have the most precious, beautiful, strong soul I have ever seen. You're the furthest thing from disgusting. It's crazy to me that you would even think that."

Changbin shakes his head then, face dripping with devotion and insistence. Hyunjin can do nothing but let his own silence encompass him, staring, staring, staring at the man before him as he sniffles quietly.

"Your reaction was normal Hyunjin," his expression twists into something uncertain then - quickly, quickly - before falling back into that same gentle resoluteness he's come to care for so much.

"I know it's not the same, but...even when my father would beat me till I was bleeding on the floor, I still craved his affection. I still wanted him to love me, to care for me. I would have given anything for it, anything. I understand you Hyunjin. You're not disgusting. You're beautiful. What that man did to you...none of that was on you."

Hyunjin sniffles once more, head shaking in denial. "But I-"

"It doesn't matter what you did, you were a child." Changbin looks at him like he never has before - scared, frightened. Terrified by all the pain Hyunjin has endured. "He hurt you. Hyunjin, he was a pedophile."

Hyunjin flinches at the word, body retreating away from Changbin's as he stutters, denial and frustration seeping into his gut. "I-No, he wasn't."

"Hyunjin..." He hates the look that Changbin gives him then, pitiful and knowing as if he was simply too stupid or young to comprehend it.

"He wasn't." Anger swallows him whole, body wired with exasperation. Changbin doesn't understand, nobody ever understands! "He-it wasn't because I was a child, it was because it was me. Even-even after puberty, even r-right before I left at seventeen, he...he still...so don't call him that!"

"Okay." Changbin looks taken aback at that, voice calm and guarded as he nods slowly. "Okay, it doesn't matter what he was. What matters is that he hurt you, that he took advantage of you."

"He wasn't a bad person." It's quick, instant. Hyunjin doesn't really know why he's saying it all, only feels within him a deep, horrid tug to make Changbin understand, see it for how it really was.

"Hyunjin..." Changbin starts of carefully, eyes softening as he clutches onto his hand, stroking it gently. "I think you know that isn't true. I know everything is overwhelming right now and I know...I know it's hard coming to terms with the fact that he's dead but we both know he wasn't a good person. At least admit that to yourself."

"B-but he was!" He insists, voice trembling with the influx of silent tears once again. Changbin didn't even know him, how can he say that? "He-he would t-take me out to get f-food sometimes. When my mother wasn't looking, he would...he would sneak extra rice onto my plate."

Hyunjin stares into him earnestly, words unsteady as he shakes. "He bought me- he bought me gifts sometimes, like on m-my birthday or-or Christmas and sometimes just because he w-wanted to." Hyunjin remembers it well, his heart inflating with joy at the illuminated sight of his first ever present, wrapped neatly and with a charming, red ribbon, the lights from the Christmas tree reflected pleasantly within his eyes.

His chest tightens at the memory, sorrow burrowing its way deeper into his flesh. "He k-knew I liked pretty things, s-so he b-bought me pretty underwear, th-the kind with lace and- and embroideries..."

"Hyunjin." Changbin strokes his fingers over his knuckles, halting his rambling as he looks at him gravely. "Why are you defending him?"

Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard as he stutters helplessly. "I'm not, I-"

"Yes, you are." Changbin speaks in nothing but gentleness, confusion snaking its way around him as his own face twists, an ugly sensation blooming within his chest. "It's okay, it's normal to defend the people that hurt us but I think you should ask yourself why."

"I...I..." Why? Hyunjin stares up at him perplexed, frustrated in his own lack of explanations. Why? Could such a question even be answered? Hungry and neglected he sits there day after day, night after night, rotting away into loneliness and then - a hand, a smile, wicked and cruel and so so nice.

Thin veils coat his sullied vision, drape themselves across his face. Everything turns pretty then, shielded and covered in lace. Pretty, pretty, pretty. His lower lip trembles, shame thickening in the shattered billows of his stomach. Why?

"He was nice because he fed you?" Changbin's eyebrows furrow, lips tugging into a frown. Hyunjin only stares at him hopelessly, wishing each word didn't wound him so deeply, didn't cut and prod at the already bruising flesh within.

"Hyunjin, that's not being nice, that's the law. That's...that's the lowest form of human decency. When I feed Jia, I'm not being nice to her, I'm just acting on the natural instinct it takes to raise a child. And...you say he gave you gifts - what, sexy lingerie? Hyunjin, that wasn't for you, that was for him."

He shakes his head then, no, no, no, Changbin just doesn't understand. "N-no, I liked pretty things like that-"

"Hyunjin." He gnaws on his teeth anxiously, eyes wide and scattered with wetness as he peers up at Changbin, lost and off balance. "He could have given you anything else, literally anything else - bracelets, pretty notebooks, stuffed animals, appropriate clothes. Why do you think he gave you underwear? It wasn't to make you happy, it was to fulfill his own perverse desire."

"It wasn't perverse..." he mumbles, eyes falling pitifully onto his lap, the word ugly and grating against his ear. Changbin knows nothing about their relationship, how dare he say that?!

"Baby, do you hear what you're saying?" Changbin sighs softly then, gaze pooling with worry as his hold around his hands tighten carefully. "If you saw anyone else doing something like that with a child, would you not think it was perverse?"

His eyes widen resolutely at that, frustration squeezing within him. "Of-of course, I just-"

"Then why are you the exception?" Changbin cuts him off, the words tumbling into his ear like a sledgehammer, knocking down the tatters of his soul, shattering the way in which his eyes have always fluttered. "Why are you any different? Were you not a child?"

Hyunjin squeezes them shut momentarily, frustration and confusion swirling through his heart as he opens them again, the world tilted on its axis, melting off the sides as it drips, drips, drips into something he can't reach. "Well y-yes but...but..."

"But what?" Changbin looks at him as if carrying with him the simple truth of the world, the way of life, each answer locked within him safely and well-polished. Hyunjin doesn't understand, he never understands. "You were a child but somehow held all the maturity of an adult? You were such an innately wicked child that you deserved it?"

Hyunjin's lip trembles, insistence swelling with each aching second that ticks by. "B-but I went along with it. I agreed, I-I wanted to do it, I didn't want to d-disappoint him-"

"Exactly." Changbin holds him even tighter then, body inching closer toward his as Hyunjin leans in instinctively, fingers latching onto the hem of his shirt, grazing their softness as if a lifeline. "You were manipulated Hyunjin. That man groomed you, he knew exactly what he was doing."

Hyunjin ponders his words for a few seconds, mulls them sluggishly over in his brain, the dagger in his heart shoving itself further and further in the longer he lets them linger. Now that he's out in the open, displayed beneath the bleary light of his apartment ceiling, the outlines of his stepfather remain clear and graspable within his reach, begging to be dissected.

Hyunjin doesn't want to, takes back his words from earlier, yes he takes them back, he doesn't want to understand, he can't, he can't. His stepfather had loved him, he'd said so and what if- what if that was the only way he knew how to love? He'd never meant to hurt him, surely, not his little dove.

Hyunjin exhales shakily, breath laced with as much exhaustion and earnest he can manage. "M-maybe at first but-but later I...I was the one m-manipulating him."

Changbin only stares at him silently, eyes pooling with cloudy confusion, lips dipping into a worry as he frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you!" Frustration tunnels straight back into him, nausea erupting inside his stomach as he tries not to dry heave. Why can't Changbin just listen, why does he refuse to see him for who he is?! "I told you already, I would p-purposefully d-do things to-to rile him up in front of my mother b-because I wanted to h-hurt her so bad and...and I k-knew exactly how to-to get him to do what I w-wanted and I did it, I have n-no one but myself to blame."

His voice chokes on a sudden sob as he tries to stifle it, hands wiping furiously at his eyes as the tears continue to stream. Still Changbin holds him gently, regarding him with all the care and fondness of his own bruised heart. Why hasn't he left yet? How does he still have so much to give? Hyunjin sniffles, feeling small and weak beneath his gaze.

"You mean...sex?" Changbin touches him softly, coaxing him into his arms as he cradles his face. Hyunjin leans into his touch, silent cries pouring down his cheeks, desperate, desperate, desperate.

"Hyunjin, that's not what you wanted, that's what he wanted. You did exactly what he desired, he manipulated you, not the other way around." Changbin's voice breaks as he speaks, wreathed thickly with pain. "I don't care how cunning you were as a twelve year old, no preteen is sexually tricking a grown adult into bed. He knew exactly what he was doing. You are giving yourself far too much credit here, you were a child."

Hyunjin stares at him resolutely, blinking, blinking, blinking away his tears as he latches onto every word. "A child who was lonely and abused and starved of affection and he knew that. He knew you'd never want to disappoint him, he knew you craved attention, he knew you didn't have anyone else around that you trusted enough to tell. He knew all of that and he took advantage of it."

Changbin tucks a strand of hair behind his ear then, gaze flickering around his face once more, soaking it in, memorizing it by heart. He already has, Hyunjin thinks. "What's disgusting here is not you, but the fact that you were forced to grow up at such an early age."

Hyunjin sniffles pitifully, something cracking permanently within him, the shards falling down, down, down to darkened spaces he could never see. Up-rooted, disarrayed, Hyunjin is relieved then, for the fragments that cut him so.

Broken corners leave room for something else to fill their emptiness, barren hollows and wilted petals retreating back into the dirt, planting small seeds for something new, something more beautiful to grow. Hyunjin doesn't think it'll hurt any less, but maybe the pain can lessen. Over time. With the right person. Could he really be so lucky? He never has before and yet-

"I know it's not that simple." Changbin's thumb slopes down to trace against his lips, each touch feathery and light, honed preciously just for him. "I know that...years and years of sexual abuse is not something you can just simplify or erase." It drags its way back up to his cheekbone, skimming along his skin like soft kisses of a butterfly. "But I'm so glad you're telling me." Then, up to eyes, up to his tears, fingers ghosting against their wetness. "I'm so glad you're finally opening up because that means you trust me and...and I can help you."

For once he doesn't try to wipe them away, simply lets them be, simply lets them know that he's there, graces them with just the faintest, the loveliest of a frightened, devoted touch. "I'll listen to you, I'll talk to you, I'll just hold you if that's all you want." No, Hyunjin's never been lucky, never, never, never.

"Hyunjin you are everything to me." Shied away to a corner, bruised and bleeding, pretty for all the wrong people. "Everything." Protected and battered, Hyunjin doesn't think he's ever truly been beautiful until then, until he finds himself for the first time in a long, dwindling trail of pain, lucky. "I promise I'm not going anywhere." Lucky, lucky, lucky. How could he be so lucky?

He knows what Changbin would say, would say that it wasn't luck at all. That he deserved it, that it simply was. Hyunjin smiles weakly then, hands clutching around Changbin's arms from how they hold onto his face still, body overcome with feelings he's never felt before, gratitude, yearning, something else yes, that shiny, embroidered word he's too scared to utter out loud.

Hyunjin leans in closer instead, tears still streaming down his cheek as Changbin falls into the kiss, deeply, resolutely - thrust forward with everything, everything, everything.

With nothing left to spill, nothing left to bury, Hyunjin feels for one short, sweet moment, utterly and unwaveringly free. Relief overcomes him, small seeds of happiness planting themselves within the soil of his marrow as Changbin lies down and pulls him closer, each second spent free-fallen and plunged into the comforting taste of his lips like a renewal, a rebirth of his old, blinded self.

Hyunjin knows it doesn't work like that, knows the grime of his past will still cling to his flesh no matter how many times he scrubs and scrubs it away and yet...something feels lighter, chest lifted by the slow acceptance of falling into someone else's arms, breathing painting itself easier; sweeter. Not just someone else, no, Changbin's arms. Changbin's home. He'd kept his promise, was still there despite it all...

Hyunjin pulls away gently, head nestled on top of his chest as he wipes away a few stray tears. He doesn't even know why he's crying anymore and then with a sudden lurch to his stomach he remembers, grief falling into place as he tries not to push it away.

His voice turns quiet as he speaks, hushed and whispered like a child, fingers fiddling with the fabric of Changbin's shirt. "Can you...can you come with me to the funeral?"

"Of course." Changbin strokes his hair tenderly, words woven with nothing but care. "I'll be with you every step of the way. You're sure you wanna go?"

Hyunjin's fingers tremble, bottom lip falling into a quiver as his eyes flutter shut. "No...I don't know."

He doesn't want to think about what it will mean, breathing in the old dust of his hometown once again. He doesn't want to see his mother, his old church, doesn't think he can bear to stand the sight of the casket and yet...something deep within tugs at his gut, pleading, aching for him to trail back to his mangled, neglected roots. "B-but I don't want to go alone."

"You're never alone," Changbin whispers, the steady breathing of his chest lulling him to something more calm. "Not anymore, I promise that."

Hyunjin thinks for a while, thoughts halting down into something sluggish and slimy as it leaves trails in its wake. He's never been able to make much sense of his thoughts, least of all now, least of all here. Still he bites nervously at his lip, something hazy in the distance beginning to uncloud just a bit. "Do you...do you think going will help me bring closure?"

Changbin says nothing for a few seconds, chest rising firmly through it all as Hyunjin listens intently to his heartbeat. "I don't know," he breathes out, voice heavy yet laced with uncertainty. "It might. Maybe fully realizing that he's dead can help you move on...help you heal. But we don't have to go if you don't want to. You don't owe anyone anything."

Hyunjin nods, though there's a distant, almost static feeling that reverberates throughout his bones. It's okay, he thinks, he'd already faced his biggest fear and it had turned out okay, more than okay actually. Surely...surely he could overcome a meagre funeral...hesitation lurches in his gut, a dark sense of foreboding seizing him. But Hyunjin doesn't trust his own feelings, not anymore.

"I was so scared to tell you," he whispers, fingers tracing small circular patterns upon Changbin's shirt.

"I know," Changbin says, gentle and reassuring as always. "I'm so proud of you. I know it couldn't have been easy."

Hyunjin hums in soft acknowledgement, eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a small, tired yawn. He feels exhausted, zapped of all the energy he'd carried. Changbin laughs at that, endeared amusement filtering through his voice. "You wanna go to sleep already? It's still midday."

Hyunjin grumbles in annoyance, pressing his face further into his shirt in protest. "Then you need to wake me up."

"How?" Changbin teases, already trailing his fingers beneath his arms as if to tickle him. Hyunjin jerks at that, swatting his arm away as Changbin only laughs.

"With ice cream," he mumbles, the words slurred from how tired he's become, eyes fluttering shut every few seconds.

"That can be arranged." Hyunjin doesn't need to look at Changbin to know that he's grinning as he says it, his head filling up with cotton and sand as he tries not to let it fall. "But first, my sleeping beauty, I think you should take a nap."

Hyunjin only makes some sort of noise in protest as another yawn befalls him, darkness enclosing his vision as he lets his eyelids plummet down heavily, brain warped in soft balls of yarn to unravel through the slow cessation of consciousness. Vaguely he feels himself being lifted, carried as if weightless as he's dipped into plush, tender sheets.

"I promised I'd help you rest, after all."

Something light and fluttery caresses his heart, the faintest brushes of lips upon his forehead as he sinks, sinks, sinks into the soil of the earth.

Time had been frozen mere moments ago, the world halting as it tipped on its axis - never to be the same, never to breathe freely once more and yet now...Hyunjin smiles faintly against the airy fabric of his pillow, certain in his knowledge for the first time that despite how deep his roots remain fastened, the clock continues to run.

Tick tock, tick, tock. Hyunjin listens to its rhythms faintly, traces them with the beat of his own heart. He doesn't count them this time, already knowing which number it'll land on.

He thinks of Changbin, thinks of Jia. Of himself. The number's grown on him, he thinks, breathes movement into time as it carries him away. He plucks the leaves off his clover with the promise of a new tomorrow, knowing that they'll continue to bloom despite how hard he tramples them.

He'll probably need them one day, most likely sooner than he thinks and yet now, caught in the flimsy threads of his sheets, of someone else's limbs, he rips them off with a kind, gentle touch.

 

-

 

Over the course of a week, Hyunjin finds himself steadily growing more and more anxious for the upcoming trip, that slow, haunting sensation of dread to tug at his stomach whenever he thinks of it. Hyunjin knows he doesn't have to go, knows it will most likely be too much for him to handle and yet something compels him to anyway.

He tells himself that it's closure, or at least the possibility of it. Of moving on, accepting things for the way they were. Letting go. Deep down Hyunjin isn't so sure if that's really the reason at all, but he doesn't care long enough to think of it. He doesn't want to think of him. Not yet at least, not until he has to.

He takes the week off work, spends most of his time cocooned in a nest with Changbin and Jia in an attempt to soak up the most joy he can manage. Still he falls dismally victim to his three-leafed clover's little trap, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing the apartment spotless until the walls begin to gleam.

It's the only thing that takes his mind off it all and so Changbin lets him be, consoles him gently through the night instead. Hyunjin spends most of them crying, face leaking and trickling with all the sorrows he's carried since birth, body convulsing against Changbin's hold, unsure of what it is he's so sad over. His tears always dry out in the end, eyes fluttering shut from fatigue as he goes limp in Changbin's arms.

Changbin tells him that they can borrow Jisung's car, an old rickety thing yet functional enough to make it across state lines. It's an eight hour drive, but they'll be leaving one day early, stopping at a motel.

At that Hyunjin firmly starts to pack all the cleaning products he owns, plastic gloves, facemasks and even brings his own sheets - he's not about to sleep in some sleazy motel sober without making sure it's sanitized enough. Changbin only stares at him like he's crazy, but kisses his nose in amusement all the same.

Hyunjin stares at him fondly from where he sits perched upon the edge of the bed, stomach tightening in knots as Changbin starts rummaging through his closet, clearly searching for what to wear at the funeral.

Hyunjin had never been to a funeral before, had almost forgotten that it was supposed to be a formal, clear-cut event. He didn't own any suits, had only stuffed a black silk shirt and some pants into his bag along with a dozen other facial creams.

Changbin sighs frustratedly into his closet, eyes narrowing as if not knowing what to do. "I don't want to wear a black suit for this bastard."

Hyunjin winces at the word, Changbin peering over his shoulder immediately to give him a guilty, regretful look. "Sorry."

Deciding to ignore it all together, Hyunjin only purses his lips. "You have a suit?"

"Yeah," Changbin nods, face falling into something of a poorly withheld graveness. "Wore one for Hana's funeral."

"Oh." Hyunjin chews on his fingernails nervously then, that familiar upheaval of small, scattered bugs crawling all over him as he tries not to fidget. "What's it...what's it like?"

Changbin seems to think for a while, jaw settling into something slightly hardened. "Weird. Solemn. Though I think this is gonna be a lot different." Uncertainty passes through his vision like cloudy haze, his forehead creasing as he sits down onto the bed next to him, fingers lacing themselves within his.

Hyunjin only stares up anxiously, Changbin's expression far more serious all of the sudden. "I mean...seeing your mother again, going to back to your hometown, watching people mourn that man not knowing what he did to you...It's going to be hard Hyunjin. You know that, right?"

Hyunjin's lower lip trembles, chest inflating as he sucks in a deep gust of air. "I know. But if I don't go, I'm going to regret it."

Changbin nods, a small smile gracing his face. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

Yes, Hyunjin knows that now, gratitude seeping into his bones as he gives him a light, fluttery kiss, desperate for the promise of closeness. Changbin always complies easily, giving, giving, giving until Hyunjin feels the expanse of his puzzle begin to stretch and stretch, old pieces falling off as new ones make their way straight into him.

On the morning of their departure does he become more grateful for the new way in which he builds himself more than ever, the fragments of his outline falling away so quickly he's sure would've remained nothing but a crumpled heap of dust if not for the new, sturdier chips Changbin had glued carefully into his skin.

He loads the car with their bags without him, Hyunjin sitting frozen and paralyzed upon the bed, heart hammering so quickly he fears for one short, terrifying moment that it might actually come bursting out of his chest.

His fingers quiver against the sheets once Changbin returns, his face falling into one of concern immediately as he crouches down in front of him, hand resting on his thigh, squeezing it in comfort.

Hyunjin only stares down at him with glassy eyes, Changbin giving him a kind, reassuring smile as he holds up that familiar bundle of velvet and softness, beady eyes gazing into him cutely. "I think we should bring Bunny, don't you?"

Hyunjin nods immediately, grabbing onto Bunny and clutching him tightly against his chest as he sits there, lets the familiar waves of comfort wash over him from holding onto his little friend. He must look like a child, he thinks and yet he can't help the way in which his fingers refuse to let go of him as he makes his way reluctantly to the front door.

Jia emerges from her bedroom then, Sora having already arrived and laughing at her fondly from how rumpled her hair is. Jia yawns cutely, body still clad in her pajamas as she languidly rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

Changbin leans down to hug her goodbye, kissing her forehead as Jia whines about them having to leave. Still there's no malice behind it, Hyunjin's heart inflating once he leans down and she loops her arms around his neck, giving him a quick, light kiss on the cheek before retreating back with a playful smile.

Hyunjin grins at her, her beam eclipsing as she rocks gently back and forth on her heels. "When you get back, we have to go to the flower shop, so we can find the tiger lily." She looks at him expectantly, eyes glimmering with delight. "And you can put it in your hair like before, remember?"

"Yes, I remember." Hyunjin smiles, her innocence like rays of warmth to spill upon his back. "We'll do that. I can't wait."

Jia grins happily then, seemingly satisfied as she starts skipping over to the kitchen in search of her favorite cereal, completely unaware of the turmoil and fear simmering within him. Good, he thinks, the realization easing up the pressure in his chest just slightly.

Sora walks over to him then, giving him a sudden hug goodbye as Hyunjin all but stares back in shock. There's a knowing, almost transparent glint in her gaze as she sends him a small smile, Hyunjin reflecting one back weakly from nauseous he suddenly feels.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Changbin takes his hand in his, Bunny in the other as they make their way down into the car, each step infusing his legs with lead and needles as he tries not to buckle from their pain.

Inside the worn out red Ford Cortina, the old interior smells of something long since coated in dust; well-used, well-loved. A measly air freshener hangs from above the rearview mirror, a distinct smell of pine filtering faintly throughout the air as a small hula dancer bobble-head wiggles on top of the dashboard. Changbin looks around as if amused, Hyunjin only tries not to vomit.

Changbin turns to gaze at him then, Hyunjin's fingers tightening instinctively as he presses Bunny closer to his chest. "Ready?"

Hyunjin only stares at him, that dreadful, pinching sensation from earlier curling around his gut, spreading its way out into every crevice and corner of his bones. Ready? He'll never be ready, will never be well-versed or polished enough to retreat back to the footprints of his past, such a sharp, splinter-ridden mousetrap waiting to clasp onto him.

He stares out the window then, breaths but an echo of thoughts best left unspoken. "Just drive."

The engine starts, after a while, the car humming to life as the paintings from his window begin to jolt, winding and creasing their way into his vision just seconds too late. He's always too late.

Soon, though not quite yet, the paths will turn barren; old rays of desert to trail after with nothing but the scorching sun to follow. It's already wounded his flesh plenty, that unforgiving pearl of swelter up in the sky. Skin laced with currants, cherries, that bleeding color of red. What's a couple more blisters anyway?

Notes:

this might be my favorite chapter despite how heavy it is 🥺🦋 hyunjin is finally opening up, talking about his past for the first time ever, showing himself in a vulnerable way unlike ever before.

i think this is the chapter that many have been waiting for, hyunjin looking his past in the eye and facing the fact that he’s loved despite his abuse and pain. it can be so difficult to really understand, to engrave within one’s soul the fact that you’re capable of being loved and at last hyunjin is starting to truly believe it.

 

last chapter on thursday💕 thank you all so much for reading

 

twitter - @cornouillers

Chapter 22: The Last Pomegranate Seed

Notes:

warnings for mentions of csa and suicide

Arizona is not that different from Nevada, not really. Hyunjin knows they're more or less the same, at least here, can discern with his tumbling eyes the way the color of gravel and hues of sand don't change as they cross the border. Of course they don't, their roots intertwined and spilling across each other's backs like protruding from the same shared, stem. Intact. Brothers and sisters, all of them.

Still something changes, the minute the rubber of the tires glides their way over into the wide open mouth of a blue painted sign, the words The Grand Canyon State Welcomes You echoing gratingly back and forth through his mind as soon as he catches sight of them. He feels a chill run through him then, despite the obvious swelter circling them from all around.

Changbin notices it, because of course he does, the way his body strings itself up suddenly as if hit by electric currents. Hyunjin says nothing, eyes trained unwaveringly ahead, Bunny loose in his grip. Soft, melodical music hums from the radio, some old song he recognizes but doesn't know the words too.

Changbin's grip tightens momentarily on the steering wheel before his shoulders loosen once more. Hyunjin doesn't see it, but he can tell, knows like he knows the way of the sunset in which they're escaping.

It won't last, he thinks, the sun's rays always catching up in the end. Especially in Arizona, especially as they inch closer and closer to the hearth of sin. Despite the midnight sky that will eventually fall, the sun never sets. Not even for a second.

Then, because Hyunjin hasn't said anything for a couple of hours now, Changbin speaks, softly and rhythmically as if not wanting scare off a chirping bird nearby. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Hyunjin turns back to stare at him, his hold on Bunny tightening as he struggles to find the words. In the end he says nothing, color draining from his face as he stares up ahead into the distance. Bunny eases his way up to his chest, his fingers clutching onto his body as he keeps him firm and terrified against his ribcage.

Sometimes if he concentrates enough on the cactuses outside his window, if he starts counting again, heart beating steadily along to the way his tongue curls in on itself with each number, he forgets. Forgets why they're there, what had happened, why he'd ever left the recluse of Changbin's apartment in the first place.

Then, a sudden unexpected sign in the road or a flash of sun as it hits the rearview mirror blindingly, it all comes tumbling back, his memories falling into place along with the freezing of his heart.

Hyunjin recognizes it all, the way his limbs suddenly tingle, throat drying unbearably, body shivering with cold sweat as anxiety lurches through his gut. Like a ritual, a little dance he keeps performing every so often, every time the reminder jolts through him cruelly. Until he forgets again, distracted by rifts in the burning concrete.

"We should probably stop for gas soon," Changbin says, voice steady yet nervous as if trying to console the both of them. "Do you want anything to eat?"

Hyunjin blinks, gaze pinpointed ahead on nothing as he stares. The car needs a wash, he thinks, if the small specks of grime upon the front window are anything to go by. He hadn't paid much attention to it, when he'd first gotten in.

"Hyunjin?"

He turns his head then, the sun cast pleasantly across Changbin's face, skin turning a light shade of tawny, glowing. Healthy. Hyunjin wants to smile then, something warm swirling in his gut. Yet he can't. He can't. His voice sounds raspy as he speaks, unused for years upon years. "What?"

Changbin gives him a gentle smile, a frightened edge scattered around his eyes. "I asked if you were hungry."

"Oh." Hyunjin tries desperately to catch onto the way the golden rays of the sun bless them for one short moment, the relief of his pain spilling across his back. Nausea tunnels down his stomach instead. "No, not...not really."

Changbin nods, eyes softening as he flicks his gaze back up to the road, the car driving off into another lane as it follows the signs to the gas station. Hyunjin takes a second before he gets out, fingers rattling as they unclasp his seatbelt, the warmth of the outside surging through him harshly like cruel punches to his limbs.

Hyunjin smokes his cigarette quietly as he watches Changbin fill up the tank, the nicotine easing him just slightly from where they stand in the midst of nowhere, small dreams in ruin. The gas station remains run down and rusty, paint peeling from each sign, the smell of exhaust strangely comforting despite it all.

A few truckers filter in and out of the small convenience store attached, a few sparing him a glance, most eager to simply get away. Hyunjin watches as they leave, lungs exhaling the smoke restlessly as they part.

Finished with the gas, Hyunjin follows Changbin into the store, aisles and rows littered with cheap, unhealthy junk food gleaming with the strands of sun spilling in from the dust-coated windows.

Hyunjin's eye twitches, fingers pinching his forearm as he lets his gaze burn into them all, each aisle horribly miscategorized, the colors jarring and illogical from where they stream into each other.

He blinks it away, trying not to let their disorder tilt the anger within him over the edge. Instead he walks around aimlessly, Changbin picking up a few snacks here and there, some water bottles and a pre-wrapped sandwich. "You should eat something," he says, gesturing around as if that would somehow make the nausea in his stomach dissipate. It only thickens instead.

Still he buys a small packet of crackers, a stupid granola bar Changbin shoves in his hand just to alleviate his worries slightly. And a packet of Marlboro's, just to be safe. He has a feeling he'll go through the one he has with an astounding speed.

Changbin gives him a small wrinkle of the nose at that but Hyunjin ignores it, only smiles tightly back at the toothless grin the old man behind the counter gives him.

Then, with the swift influx of everything tumbling back down, Hyunjin spots himself once more perched sultrily and prowling on a rack of magazines behind the cashier, his eyes widening for a second before he hastily collects his items and walks back outside again. He hopes the man hadn't recognized him, not really sure why.

Changbin jogs up to him anxiously then, forehead creased as he tries to remain eye contact, Hyunjin doing everything he can to avoid it. "Are you okay? What just happened?"

"I'm fine," Hyunjin laughs airily, the car door slamming shut as soon as they reach it and he settles himself back into the seat with Bunny.

Changbin looks at him as if unsure of what to say, settling eventually into a small, not so convincing nod. "Alright. We'll be at the motel in a few hours, you sure you don't want to stop anywhere on the way? It's a really scenic route-"

"No." He doesn't care about fucking scenery or pretty sunsets. Still the words come out harsher than he intends them to. Hyunjin swallows, pursing his lips as he turns to him briefly. "Sorry, I just- I'm not gonna enjoy it anyway."

Changbin nods, giving him a soft smile before the engine revs back to life, the roads trailing and unwinding like the ones in his backyard, the curves mellow yet jagged, the land dry yet scattered with sagebrush every now and then. Despite the speed making the pictures blurry from outside his window, Hyunjin thinks he sees a small, black scorpion lurking beneath a cacti flower on the edge of the road.

He smiles then, Changbin's tattoo flashing through his mind. Sudden guilt squeezes his stomach, eyes peering back nervously into Changbin as he stares rigidly up ahead. He looks tired, tired and worried, not knowing how to get through, how to ease the pain in Hyunjin's mind.

Hyunjin reaches for his thigh then, squeezing it comfortingly as he gives him a tiny, watery smile, a small way for him to signal his gratitude, already knowing it will never be enough. Changbin beams at him softly, lacing his hand in his as he gives it a brief kiss before gently letting go.

"You should eat something now," he says, eyes flickering back and forth from him and the road, "if you don't want the granola bar, I packed some sandwiches for you in the back. There's one with peanut butter and one that's just plain cheese. I know you like those."

"Wow," Hyunjin grins, a teasing mirth to his voice. "You really are a dad."

Changbin rolls his eyes playfully, determination zapping through his body. "But I'm not just any dad, I'm a cool dad. A hip one."

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "Are you sure? Because last week I distinctly remember you falling asleep at nine. Before Jia."

Changbin shakes his head adamantly then. "No no, that was just because we were watching Barbie of Swan Lake again when I specifically requested Barbie as the Island Princess." Changbin sighs frustratedly with an exaggerated severity, Hyunjin laughing quietly from behind his hand. "Why is it always Swan Lake? What about all the other ones?!"

"I think she does it purposefully to mess with you," Hyunjin giggles, the sun catching the side of Changbin's face like gleams of copper.

"Well then it's not my fault if I fall asleep!" Changbin yells, eyes wide and indignant, fingers strumming restlessly upon the leather of the wheel. "God forbid Barbie does anything else than turn into that damn swan over and over again."

The string of laughter bubbling up Hyunjin's throat only doubles, the sound increasing as his eyes scrunch up. "I liked it."

"Well of course you liked it!" Changbin points incredulously. "You haven't watched it thirty-seven times!"

"Yet," he giggles.

Changbin shakes his head, giving him a knowing, playfully forewarning look. "Just wait till the third or fourth time. That's when you really start hating that damn unicorn."

Hyunjin gasps, the sun bursting out in harsh spurts as it swivels around their car. "How could you hate Lila?!"

Changbin's eyes widen in exasperation. "She starts the whole thing!"

"Wait till I tell Jia about this," Hyunjin teases, an accusing finger pointed his way. "You're not gonna hear the end of it."

Changbin smiles instinctively then, as if retracing within him the outline of her face. A low, wistful sigh slips past his lips, expression furrowed in a subtle longing. "I miss her."

"Me too," Hyunjin breathes out, his exhales quiet as the familiar threads of guilt begin to weave themselves back together. His vision tunnels back to the front of the road, the light from the sky bleeding a bright, almost blinding yellow as he follows its trails upon the patches of dirt. "Thank you for...coming."

"Of course." Changbin turns to look at him then, Hyunjin ripping his gaze away to stare back at him, a soft, gentle expression caressing his face. "I didn't mean it like that I...I'm always here for you. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Hyunjin isn't so sure how anyone could mean that, tumbled upon the bumpy path to small, neglected roads that lead nowhere, nowhere, nowhere but promises of pain. Still Hyunjin believes him, cradles his sincerity the same way he cradles Bunny against his chest; tight, protective. Close to his heart.

He smiles weakly then, stomach squeezing in billows of anxiety. He doesn't want to think about it. "One day we'll take a road trip with Jia."

"Yeah," Changbin's lips curve upward, eyes clouded with something far away. "That'd be nice."

Hyunjin takes a moment to stare at him then, uncertain of how to draw the guarded expression carved upon his face outward, wanting to reach within in and uncover each cleft of his marrow and rift in his heart.

But Hyunjin's always been too much of a coward and so it's Changbin who turns to him instead, voice mellow and careful as always. "How do you feel?"

Hyunjin turns back to the road ahead, the slopes of concrete arching upward into a new, seemingly detached lane. Changbin follows it, the path narrowing, the cacti turning thinner and larger as they tower over them. A prickling, nauseating feeling coats itself upon the ridges of his tongue, mouth dry and unbearable as it refuses to escape.

"Weird," he breathes out, eyes trailing along the pathway as he blinks. He spots a rickety, almost peeling sign lodged into the dirt, a warning about the Flood soon to come. He swallows, tearing his gaze away, shivers erupting down his spine. "Sort of...distant."

It's clear they've diverged into a small, quiet town from the sudden appearances of houses sprouting dismally from the earth as if neglected seeds begging not to be forgotten. Hyunjin stares at them with a sense of aversion and fear lodged in his throat, the flaking of their wood, the flimsiness of the white, plastic lawn chairs scattered onto the soil of blistered backyards.

Changbin turns to look at him then, Hyunjin can feel it, can feel it through the way in which he always feels Changbin's presence; comfortingly, worriedly. And yet he can't look away, eyes glued intently upon the strips of the American flag hanging in someone's window. There's a cross there too, pressed against the glass as if begging to be let out.

It isn't his hometown and yet Hyunjin can feel its jaw expanding, teeth sharpening to cut him in two, mull the taste of his flesh over and over and over again, careful to let the flavor of decay linger for as long as it can.

There's a diner there too, the faded yellow of its doorframe grating against the harsh curves of blue spelling its name upon the glass. Hyunjin can picture the bell ringing as it opens, his mother stumbling out tired and sweaty, the strands of her hair falling carelessly from the neat bun she'd left with in the morning.

In her hand hangs the delicious weight of all the food leftover, slices of pies and cakes, sometimes hot food if they were lucky. If a customer had complained, sent it back without touching it first. Well, it never mattered much to Hyunjin anyway. It was never for him.

He shuts his eyes tightly, the back of his head hitting the headrest as he opens them again, more weakly-honed homes littered upon the side of the road. A few families are outside, enjoying the sun's spillage, laughter pouring from them freely despite the crumbling way in which their chairs hold. They seem happy, he thinks, a bitter, almost jarring sensation jabbing him in the stomach.

His fingers pinch at his thigh then, saliva pooling in his mouth, infesting his tongue with a rusty, nauseating taste. A smaller house greets them unwelcomely then, scattered further away, lonely from the rest of them. A boy sits idly outside on the porch, no older than twelve, hair unruly and dark as he stares holes into the ground.

There's a large stick in his hand, its tip poking absentmindedly into the sand. Bored, no doubt. And yet there's a subtle, almost unnoticeable nervousness to the way his fingernails scrape against his knee, up and down, up and down, the pace inconsistent and more frantic each time. Hyunjin rips his gaze away, an ugly, paralyzing feeling rattling through him.

Changbin grips his hand then, immediately, instinctively. As if sensing his distress before it had the chance to bloom. Hyunjin thinks vaguely of Jia, the way Changbin would snatch a cup out of her hand right before it was about to spill, how he'd latch onto her arm the millisecond before she'd stumble, knowing before the universe did how she'd paint herself.

Changbin's clutch squeezes comfortingly, Hyunjin simply staring ahead as he wills his body not to shake. He doesn't know how much time passes then, the roads sloping back into the barrenness of desert, tiptoeing every now and then into other small, insignificant towns.

For a moment he thinks they might be on the highway to some large, blinking city but he can't really be sure. He tries not to pay attention, the sights from his window blurring into something impossible to grasp onto.

Eventually the car slows down into a halt, the colors around them falling into place rather pleasantly despite how leaden his stomach feels. He recognizes the style of the buildings around, smoothened and beige, some a nice coral pink to reflect the upcoming sunset.

He'd spent the night with Jinyoung once in something similar, mind high in the elation of running far, far away. Now he's coming back, the echoes of his past scattered somewhere around the air as he tries not to breathe them in.

Gently, Changbin opens the door for him, coaxing him out of the car as Hyunjin's hold on Bunny tightens. His legs feel wobbly as he stands, chest compressed with flutters of nerves. The motel looks decent, better than he'd expected. Changbin must have purposefully searched for something not as run down, something clean and hygienic enough to not have him spiral.

Carefully he carries their suitcase with the one hand as he guides Hyunjin through the other, his mind slipping in and out of attentiveness as he talks to the person giving him their key. Hyunjin follows Changbin wordlessly up the stairs, teeth digging into his lips as he opens the door to their room, setting the luggage neatly aside.

It isn't so bad, not really and yet Hyunjin immediately starts unpacking, fishing forth his cleaning supplies as he starts to go over every surface, brain zeroing in on something for once as he counts, counts, counts the hours away.

Changbin says nothing, only glances at him every now and then with a saddened, pained look on his face. Hyunjin can't be focusing on that now anyway, not when he has things to do.

He strips the sheets with determined conviction, scrubs the tiles of the bathroom as small beads of sweat begin to cluster on his forehead, the feeling clinging to his skin like an inflamed rash.

He can't do anything about the rest of the floor, he thinks dismally, the panels carpeted and hideous. It's okay. It's okay, he'll be fine as soon as he takes a shower anyway, gets to bleed away the sullied remnants hollowing out his flesh.

Desperately he strips, fingers numb and shaky as he lets the fabric of his clothes discard themselves somewhere in the distance, chest aching with pulses that take over his soul.

The skin of his back burns as he lets the water scald his bones, ribbons of that ghastly color coming to mar him once more, fingernails itch, itch, itching his mind to shreds before it gets the chance to think of anything.

Relief overcomes him through the emergence of blood, small and shimmery as it trails down to the pathways of his tattoo, hues of red vivid against the backdrop of inky, fluttering wings.

Hyunjin closes his eyes, teeth digging into his lips as he tries not to cry, breaths stuttering out as if shoved by some untamable force, weakened and erratic. His fingernails push in even harder and yet it isn't enough, isn't enough to stop the images that sear his brain to rust, will never be enough no, never, never, never.

Something heavy thuds to the ground, the sound loud and grotesque. Like a book, he thinks, tumbling against wood, glass shattering against the wall, the sound of a fist striking the pliancy of flesh. Bang, bang, BANG! The birds scatter from the treetop, frightened of such a noise, the bugs down below crawling away from their corners, eyes glistening and intrigued.

Hyunjin lets out a strangled, pitiful sound as his fingers curve inward, clawing, clawing, clawing at any loosened expanse of skin he can find. Like a music box do the pictures of his mind play themselves over and over and over again, spinning their melody until he can hardly hear anything but their shrill discordancy.

The sound of the water hitting his head becomes muffled, replaces itself with the slow, dooming shuffling of a cord of rope being tied, the soft scraping it makes against skin bouncing back and forth, back and forth as he tries not to catch it.

Then, strong hands pulling something heavy, tugging at the rope. The sound must be quiet he thinks, barely existent from how loudly the birds begin to sing, then the kick of whatever lies beneath his feet comes knocking to the ground, loud and jarring and then BANG, BANG, BANG-

Hyunjin sobs as the curtain to the shower opens, nails carved against his torso as Changbin climbs in beneath the falling water, hands taking hold of his own as he coaxes them away from his flesh.

"I-I can't-" his words stumble out pitifully, vision blurry as he tries to make out the lines of Changbin's face, something wet and burning streaming down his cheek.

"Shh, it's okay," Changbin soothes, drawing him into a hug as Hyunjin's head falls into the curve of his shoulder, the sounds tumbling out of him like wretched, buried regrets. Changbin wraps his arms around him gently, hands rubbing the expanse of his back as Hyunjin cries and cries and cries, painting the skin of his eyes the same reddened color as the rest of his body.

"I'll help you shower," Changbin whispers, shifting Hyunjin delicately out of his grip, the back of his head falling against the tiles as his eyes flutter shut. Hyunjin only nods with all the flimsy amount of strength he has left, fatigue draping its spindly fingers down his brittle spine.

Changbin cleans his body carefully, the water cascading down his stomach as faded streams of red circle down the drain, each touch as gentle and loving as the one before.

Vaguely Hyunjin thinks back to the time when Changbin had stitched him up in his apartment, leg in ruin and coated with blood. He stares down at the faint scar running up his thigh, Changbin tracing it lightly as he shrouds it with soap.

Gratitude overwhelms him then, eyes brimming with sudden tears as the deep rift in his chest swells with something shiny and hard. Hyunjin's fingers brush against his chest, trailing their way up his chin, skimming along the side of his jaw. Changbin stares up at him with all the emotion of the world, pupils speckled with the same expanse of stars they'd gazed into all those midnights ago.

Clutching onto the sides of his face, Hyunjin kisses him as if desperate, pouring out of himself all the quivering adoration he carries as his fingers tremble against his skin. Maybe he is desperate, he thinks, desperate and in pain, body seized with the sudden need for closeness beyond the physical touch, to leak, to drain parts of his soul right into Changbin's.

Hyunjin tilts his core right into him as he spins from his axis, vision turning blurry and distorted, brimming his senses full until all he can see is Changbin, Changbin, Changbin. Gasping into the kiss, Hyunjin pulls away briefly, their foreheads leaning against each other as Changbin gives him a playful, charming grin.

"I..." Hyunjin swallows, heart beating in phantoms against his ribcage, stomach doused in spirals of something that flutters. Changbin looks at him attentively, eyes trained upon his face as if there was nowhere else they'd rather fall. He has to say it, wants to say it, needs to say it, like the ripping of a band-aid, quick and easy and so, so relieving in one, two, three, I love- "I...want to lie down now."

Changbin looks at him for a moment before breaking out into a soft smile, nodding as he helps him out of the shower, drying them both off gently as Hyunjin sniffles pitifully, not really knowing why such emotion surges through him.

Changbin gives him a kiss on the head from where he sits perched on the edge of the bed, offering one of his hoodies as Hyunjin puts it on, eager to fall into the embrace of the smell that always helps him calm down.

Shuffling to the back as he leans against the headboard, Changbin hands him his granola bar with a stern look on his face, Hyunjin accepting it meekly as he nibbles on it quietly throughout the steady ticking of the clock.

Hyunjin tries not to focus on anything else but the weight of the bed as it dips when Changbin sits down next to him, arms circling around him as Hyunjin leans in to rest against his shoulder, stomach tightening and clenching as his eyes flutter shut.

He bites down harshly, teeth grating against each other as he wills his thoughts away, fingers clutching onto Changbin's shirt as a tremble courses through his limbs.

Changbin's hold tightens instinctively, lips brushing against his forehead as he breathes out quietly, "Everything's going to be okay."

"I'm scared," he whispers, the admittance curling nauseatingly through his gut. The large silence of the room seems stifling, compressing down, down, down onto his chest. "I don't want to think about it."

"I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you." Changbin squeezes him gently, Hyunjin lying down on top of his chest, ear pressed against his heartbeat, repeating each thud in his head like a mantra. "I promise."

Tears well in his eyes before he can stop them, fingers wiping them away hastily as he shrinks in on himself, voice pleading and small like a child's. "Can you tell me a story? Something nice."

Changbin hums for a second, pondering what to say no doubt, fingers stroking through his hair rhythmically, each soft touch against his scalp like drops of lavender laced within the breeze. Hyunjin closes his eyes, breathes it in as his heart turns lighter, the heavy weight pressing down evaporating somewhere in the distance.

He listens intently then, to the sounds of Changbin's heart, the soft swells of his exhales, the gentle rattling of his limbs each time he moves just slightly. He wants to engrave it into his own flesh, he thinks, drape it across his soul until he's surrounded by nothing else. It's a nice thought. Hyunjin smiles quietly.

Changbin laughs faintly then, his chest rumbling weakly from the sound. "Did I ever tell you about how Jisung's parents met? It's really cute."

Hyunjin shakes his head, intrigued as Changbin's fingers continue to run through his hair. "They used to sit on the same bench at this park, but never at the same time." Hyunjin stares idly up at the running fan on the ceiling, the quick motion turning everything blurry around the edges.

He blinks it away, concentrating on the steady chimes of Changbin's voice. "One day his mother drew a little heart onto the bench with a sharpie and then when she returned the next day, someone had commented something like 'A classic heart 8/10. But a little unoriginal.' Apparently she took offense and started drawing other things and he'd leave small messages judging them."

Hyunjin smiles at that, eyes falling into small crinkles as the pictures in his head continue to bloom. "They ended up sort of accidentally defacing the entire bench until people petitioned for it to get removed." Changbin laughs then, the sound vibrating right into the very linings of his core.

"So she was sad because she never got to meet her mystery pen pal. Until, almost a whole month later, when she went into a coffee shop and recognized her barista's handwriting, along with a little heart drawing. According to Jisung she just yelled something like 'Hey, my heart was way better than yours!' And they lived happily ever after."

Hyunjin hums, the sound muffled from where he lies pressed against Changbin's shirt, the unease in his stomach seeping silently away as he breathes out, amazed, "That sounds like a movie, wow."

Hyunjin thinks he can feel Changbin nod despite not being able to see him, the arm around his waist dipping beneath the fabric of his hoodie, fingers imprinting themselves like golden ringlets against his skin.

"What else is there...oh!" Changbin jerks from the sudden vigor of a memory, Hyunjin laughing from how his own head vibrates on top of him. "Last year, when Jia was four, she was really obsessed with Toy Story, so I started moving her stuffed animals in their sleep and she'd wake up convinced they were alive."

Hyunjin can practically hear the grin reflected in Changbin's voice, the way it swells and punctures at the mention of his daughter. Hyunjin smiles along easily, imagining Jia wide-eyed and frantic as she tried to convince those around her of her own convictions.

"Then she decided she was gonna catch them in action and she literally refused to sleep. It was like every night she was on a stake out, she even borrowed her friend's binoculars just in case she'd miss anything." Changbin laughs then, disbelief coating the sound.

"I tried telling her they could always tell when she was awake and so it wouldn't matter but she didn't believe me. Eventually I had to mail ourselves a fake letter from The National Toy Association stating that all toys in the country would be going into a year-long hibernation."

"What?" Hyunjin giggles, hoisting himself up so as to look Changbin in the face.

"It was the only way to get her to stop!" Changbin's eyes bulge exasperatedly, Hyunjin's laughter thickening as he lies back down again. "She forgot about the whole thing eventually but I still live in a little fear every day that she's suddenly going to remember it. Technically they're not supposed to be in hibernation anymore. She'd become a ruthless detective again."

Hyunjin laughs once more, the sound quiet yet piercing from how it chimes through the empty room. His fingers come tracing the fabric of Changbin's shirt then, clutching onto small clusters before eventually letting them go. "I want to have stories like that one day," he whispers, voice dense with fear and something that aches. "With you."

"We will," Changbin says, voice sincere and soft, never leaving the smallest of seconds for Hyunjin to doubt him. "We already have lots." A smile creeps into his voice then, small remnants of laughter filtering back up. "I'll never forget the day Felix tricked us into making brownies together."

Hyunjin grins, the memory coursing through him with all its absurdity. He adjusts himself up again, peering down at Changbin with a playful glint in his eye. "It turned out good though. We should try baking again."

"Well obviously," Changbin insists, face sloped into the same teasing severity as always. "I'm on a mission to broaden your diet. I already have a list of things we need to make."

"Oh really?" Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, lips tugging upward automatically. "What's on this little list?"

"Banana bread, cinnamon rolls, muffins...oh!" Changbin's eyes widen excitedly then, energy zapping through his body once more. "Have you ever tried French toast before?"

"French toast?" Hyunjin frowns, peering down at him as his head tilts to the side. "You mean...toast...from France?"

"No." Changbin laughs, eyes glimmering with streaks of fondness as he props himself up on his elbows, face inching closer to his as he leaves him a quick kiss on the nose. "But it's sweet, like you."

"Ugh." Hyunjin rolls his eyes, flopping back down onto his chest as he tries not to smile. "Who knew you were gonna be so relentlessly cheesy?"

"No my fault, I can't help it," Changbin grins, squeezing around him affectionately. "You drive me crazy."

Hyunjin only grumbles in response, lips curving into a giddy smile as if it had never stood a chance anywhere else. Something flutters deep within his chest, stomach rupturing fondly as he turns back up to stare at him, eyes tracing each outline of Changbin's face along with the steady swells of his heart. He hadn't paid much attention to it, back then. Now it seems it's all he does.

Hyunjin smiles softly, sudden intrigue twisting it into a grin. "What was your first impression of me? Be honest."

Changbin seems momentarily taken aback by the question and yet it seems he doesn't need any time to reach back and think at all, answer ready on the tip of his tongue as if it had been lingering there for months. "You had me hooked since the first day I saw you."

"Yeah right." Hyunjin rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious!" Changbin insists, eyes widening as disbelief courses through him, mind undoubtedly reliving the first moment they'd crossed paths all that time ago. "The second I saw you I almost did a double take. It was really annoying too because you infuriated me but I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Changbin groans then, as if the mere memory caused him pain. "At first I just thought the lack of sex in the past five years was finally catching up to me and driving me insane but then I heard you laugh at the photoshoot and I knew I was fucked."

Hyunjin can't help the billow of adoration that surges through him then, a raspy, tingling emotion scratching at the back of his throat.

Changbin stares up at him earnestly, gaze reflected with incredulity as he huffs out a quiet laugh. "I thought there was no way you liked me back but all I could think about was your smile and laughter, oh my God I used to want to bang my head against the wall every night. Even Jia noticed I was zoning out and she'd ask what was wrong." Changbin shakes his head in wonder. "What was I supposed to say - 'oh you know, just thinking about this stripper?'"

Hyunjin giggles, hands snaking their way around his neck as he thinks back, Changbin pressing him closer against his body. "I thought about you too a lot...even though I tried to convince myself that I didn't."

He'd hardly be able to recognize that person back then, stare within the darkened eyes of his reflection and conclude they came from the same withered roots. He's glad, he thinks, that the Hyunjin all those months ago wouldn't glance twice at the person he is now, too blinded by the mirror of his own three-leafed clover. "You frustrated me 'cause you were so different from everybody else...I didn't know what to make of it."

Changbin tils his head to the side, fingers rubbing soothing circles into his waist. "Different how?"

Hyunjin had known, had known from the second Changbin had offered to walk him home that his mistrust had only come from within, that shiny vessel of terror of things being simply too good to be true glaring him right in the eye, daring, challenging him to do something to prove it wrong.

Hyunjin smiles softly, fingers brushing up his nape, tangling themselves into his hair, inhaling every rift and fragment that he can. He can never get enough. "You were always so sincere and considerate...and I'd never had real feelings for anyone like that...everything was just confusing." His voice turns smaller then, meek and shrouded in shame. "Thank God you didn't give up on me."

"I would never. I will never," Changbin insists, forehead creasing as if worried mere words would falter in ever being enough to convey how thoroughly he means it. "You're everything to me Hyunjin."

Hyunjin lies down gently on top of him as if simply weaving his way into that which he'd always belonged, planting his face into the nook of his neck as he mutters out quietly, "So are you."

Ripples in water, daffodils in spring - Hyunjin falls into Changbin the only way he was meant to; easily, naturally. No thought to linger in its wake.

Time passes strangely throughout the faint buzzing of the motel room, his eyes drifting every now and then to catch the fan as it spins and spins and spins his vision into something not quite real, the fringes of his sight turning smoky and unfocused.

Weakly he can feel Changbin's fingers as they thread into him all the devotion they carry, how they weave through his hair, graze against his skin, over and over and over again like something to steady him, anchor him away from that floating whirlpool in the ceiling.

Still Hyunjin sees within it all the things he wishes he wouldn't, dark outreaching branches as they crow and crow their weight into snapping, the corners of his childhood scattered away into dust with one quick blow of breath, the splinters from his floorboard digging into his heel. Ruptured flesh, trickling blood. His body flinches as it falls in heaps, tears leaking from the faucet, clogging up the drain.

Vividly he sees the colors from the kitchen window as they crown above his head - springtime blush, vibrant, oozing fruits of the summer, plunging into darkness each time his limbs hit the tiles. His fists bang against the floor, limbs convulsing throughout the night. Childish, puny tantrums. There's no one there to hear him, not anymore. Not anymore.

A sob wreaks its way out of him, Changbin cradling his head instinctively, his hold tightening around him with each cry that strangles itself into the air. The colors burn themselves into his vision, searing through his mind, fingers clutching feebly onto Changbin's shirt before shaking their way back to letting go.

Tears fall pitifully down his cheeks as his breath begins to quicken, frustration tumbling within him as it chokes him to dust. "Why did he-" a tremble courses through his bones, shivers running down his spine, exhales coming out in splinters. "Why would he-"

Hyunjin doesn't know what it is he's truly asking, the answer fading on the tip of his tongue right before it gets the chance to jump, sobs stifling it and slamming it to the back of his throat instead. "I don't- I don't understand-"

"Shh," Changbin whispers gently, hands threading themselves neatly into his hair, Hyunjin's cries coming out muffled and chopped against the skin of his neck. "It's okay, it's okay."

"Why do I care-" Changbin holds him carefully through it all, a wretched sob seeping out of him as his body convulses, mind clouding with thick, blistering fog as it continues to unravel.

Why, why, why does he care, why after six years does he still care, why does it hurt so much? Hot, scalding snares scorch the insides of his stomach, heavy, choking weight pressing down, down, down onto his chest, limbs prickled by a thousand serrated needles - it's too much, too much for his meagre, ragdoll body.

"Grief is a very strange feeling." Changbin takes hold of his face then, coaxing it gently back into the light as Hyunjin sniffles, face red and swollen no doubt from the amount of tears streaming down his cheeks.

Changbin brushes them away gently, cradling his face, fingers dipping down to skim across his lips. Hyunjin follows his gaze as if hypnotized, cementing each word desperate for their distraction.

"It's sort of difficult to latch onto when you have such a complicated relationship with the person who's dead. I think grief comes naturally, for most people. Like it wants to be there, needs to be there. But other times...it's almost like you have to fight for it not to slip away because if it does...what's left, you know?"

Hyunjin only stares back silently, eyes wet with the downpour of tears, lips wobbly as he clutches onto Changbin's shirt, a frightened child unwilling to let go. He wishes Changbin could give him the answers, could weave the way in which his mind would fall with the simplest of words to brush against his ear.

Instead Changbin looks at him sadly, fingers grazing against his jaw, voice dipping its toes into a distant sullenness.

"When Hana died, I...it was like I couldn't see things for the way they were anymore." Something flickers in his eyes then, small seeds of guilt never allowed enough sunlight to fully bloom. "Everything felt cold and numb, like I was looking down at myself through someone else's eyes. I couldn't recognize myself. I didn't care enough to try."

Hyunjin inhales sharply then, cries coming to a quivering halt as he listens intently, fingers rattling against his chest. Changbin gives him a solemn look, laced within it all the understanding he carries. "When she died, I was everything. Sad, relieved, angry but most of all...I was just fucking terrified. It felt like...like something just went wrong and everything in the world changed. Everything was off. Distorted. It made me feel crazy."

Hyunjin swallows, that familiar scratching sensation creeping back his throat once more. "I keep trying not to think about it but...but it keeps coming back to me anyway." Cold, vivid flashes, his limbs flinching out of place. The world tilted, its axis slipping beneath his feet.

Hyunjin's voice trembles, wishing he could reach into his mind and pluck away every ache. "I just keep p-picturing it. His body just...hanging there. I just don't understand."

Another sob, another chip in his wing. Changbin stares at him with all the weight of the world, fingers tracing along his jaw as his words break out in quiet whispers. "Some things just aren't meant to be understood."

Hyunjin doesn't know how long he looks at him then, saying nothing, thinking everything. Saltwater caresses his face throughout the night, coming out in sharp, rattled spouts before withering away into something choked and inconsistent.

The cream wallpaper turns ugly beneath the light, a faded, jarring yellow, the dark, rusty brown of the curtains like expired syrup dripping down the countertop.

He doesn't dare look at anything then, least of all the fan up in the ceiling, spinning, spinning, spinning until he can't be sure which way it rotates. Still he feels it, the small gusts of air that occasionally blow across his face.

Instead he burrows himself into Changbin's side, shielded, protected from the ghastly shadows that rumble to life all around them. Changbin holds him, because of course he does, not knowing, not wanting to mold himself any other way.

Tomorrow looms somewhere in the distance, draped upon the horizon outside of their room, creaking and tiptoeing its way into the sky.

Luckily Hyunjin can't see, not with his eyes folded somewhere upon Changbin's skin, mouth pressed tightly into expanses of dark, swirling ink. Careful, unable to make a sound, to hear his own cries echoed upon the walls.

The light recedes, after a while, the moon gliding up to bid him goodbye. Hyunjin knows it's there, watching, hovering close by to make sure he eventually falls asleep.

Hyunjin mourns that cusp of whiteness, its back spilling with rays of wispy, translucent snow. The moon says nothing, silent and withheld as always. He doesn't know if he'll ever see it again.

 

-

 

Outside of the speckled imprints of grime, Hyunjin enjoys peering out of the rifted car window. It helps distract him, even if just slightly. The gravel remains much the same through each new road they tread upon and yet sometimes the houses change, the birds in the backyards chirping different melodies each time.

Sometimes they form themselves large and important, other times scattered away and tired from their own heavy weakness. Most of them don't look much like his own house, though some, a few, carry with them a striking, gut-wrenching resemblance.

Hyunjin looks away then, sharply and is if scorned, his hold on Bunny tightening immediately from where he sits perched upon his lap.

He'd told Changbin to avoid driving past his home, to take the longer, more winding path around in order to reach the church. Changbin hadn't minded, though Hyunjin hadn't truly paid much attention to anything that morning, mind stuffed with cotton and flimsy, crumpled sheets of paper burnt around the edges.

His legs had wobbled as he stood, infused with lead and a numbing, outbranching static. In the mirror he'd hardly let his gaze linger on anything, too focused to cover up the heavy darkness smudged beneath his eyes.

He'd slept unsteadily, body jerking every so often out of dreamscape, mind catching only fleetingly onto glimpses of unconsciousness. As he'd looked himself in the mirror the following sunrise, he'd been quick and hasty to cover his fatigue.

Now, the car skirting into the margins of his measly, trailing hometown, Hyunjin thinks his exhaustion is nowhere to be found. Instead he sits there wide-eyed and rattled, eyes flickering outside the window, uncertain of whether he yearns to recognize such harsh, blistering sand or if it'd all be better if it were new; replaced, remodeled so as not to strike within such sharp, aching cords to those who returned.

Thankfully he knows they won't drive past his house, sure that his itching, teetering mind would not be able to handle such vividness. His school too, is not on this route, nor is his step-father's auto-repair shop.

His mother's diner however...Hyunjin turns his head sharply the other side, staring at Changbin instead once he recognizes the buildings that he knows lead up to it, eyes burning from how they refuse to waver from the profile of Changbin's face.

Noticing his stare, Changbin turns to glance at him fondly, giving him a small, comforting smile, one that never really reaches more than the faintest clutches of Hyunjin's chest before it's kicked out by something else, something stronger.

For a moment he wishes the circumstances were different, wishes he could have seen Changbin in a suit for the first time and let his stomach preen in appreciation. Instead all he feels is a deep, swiveling sickness.

He turns his head back out the window, eyes falling into the mousetraps along the way. Scattered, worn-down houses, self-righteous flags, blinding, daunting crosses to curse him with.

He wonders if he'd recognize any of the people milling behind the walls, if he'd ever spoken with them, exchanged a puny, frightened word once or twice through some strange occurrence of everyday life. Probably not, he thinks, his feet always scuttling away from other people.

A couple of small, deteriorating stores wind into view, scattered patches of dirt and sand, a few nicer, slightly more put together neighborhoods and then- Hyunjin's stomach jolts, eyes fluttering shut at the sudden lightheaded sensation that befalls him.

Changbin touches his shoulder immediately, squeezing it gently as Hyunjin forces his eyelids not to cluster themselves like glue onto his eyes, falling instead upon the large, towering spiral of ivory, the sudden chiming of bells awakening every nerve and bloodstream within him.

The car falls into a halt, parking outside in a vacant lot, the large cross upon the church's spine seizing him upright as his breath constricts in his throat. He can't go in there, he can't, he can't, he can't-

"Hey." Changbin turns to him softly, eyes laced with worry and compassion. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"We came all this way," Hyunjin swallows, guilt and terror clogging up his throat, his eyes flitting back and forth between every darkly-clad silhouette streaming into the church. Not that many would come, he knows. They mostly kept to themselves.

"That doesn't matter," Changbin breathes out, forehead creasing as he leans over to clutch onto his hands. "I have no problem going back. I have no problem staying either. It's up to you, I support you either way."

Hyunjin trails his vision back to Changbin, stomach clenching as he exhales deeply through his nose, fingernails digging into Bunny's soft, velvet fur, mouth erupting in rusty flavors of decay. He turns back to look at the church, its wide open mouth swallowing each soul that filters in unknowingly, teeth sharp and eager to tear such unholy flesh into pieces.

Hyunjin ponders for a moment, what it would be like to simply leave, the car leaving in its trail nothing but fumes of exhaust as proof of their existence. They could go right now, could speed back upon the horizon and nestle their way into familiar sheets of comfort.

He could fall gently asleep in Changbin's arm, awaken to the noisy rustling of a giggling Jia as she tried to get them out of bed, the three of them falling easily over the kitchen counter, laughter echoing off the walls. They could leave. Hyunjin knows they could, knows Changbin wouldn't hesitate to turn the car right around. And yet...

Hyunjin swallows harshly, the strain of his eyes making them water just slightly. Going back would mean comfort, simple breathing, but not peace, not contentment.

He'd be uneasy, mind falling into throes of wondering, wondering, wondering what could have been, what wood the casket would be made of, how his mother's face would mold itself in front of it, how his own eyes would reflect within the old mirror of the bathroom walls. Would they burn? Freeze? Spill silent, repulsive tears of grief?

"Let's just go." He wants to know, he thinks, whether Death would prove itself, in the wake of his withering, rootless presence, infectious. "Let's just get this over with."

Changbin looks at him for a moment as if gauging his emotion before nodding at last, the sound of the car door opening and slamming shut jolting Hyunjin back to the bleary reality, his legs numb and detached as soon as they step out onto the concrete.

Changbin takes his hand in his immediately, lacing their fingers together as he tugs him gently along to the church's entrance, Hyunjin's mouth turning dry and infested with spiderwebs.

All of the sudden the reminder of where they are and what they're doing hits him all at once, blood draining from his face as anxiety spikes in his stomach, nausea barreling forward to the point of a cinching, stifling pain. Hyunjin swallows shakily, eyes flitting around each and every person that walks past them. "If it's an open casket, I'm gonna be sick."

Changbin squeezes his hand tightly, Hyunjin turning to him as if desperate. "If you want to leave at any time, just say the word and we'll go. You don't owe anyone anything, okay? No matter what you do, I'm right behind you."

Hyunjin nods, something sharp and heavy lodged in his throat, the entrance corridor stretching far and wide as he spots the black, mourning sign of the funeral service leading up into the nave. He almost vomits at the name, the curves pretty and elegant, the symbol of a cross hanging righteously right beneath it in the center.

Hyunjin turns his head away immediately, catching sight of an older woman he thinks he vaguely recognizes form the neighborhood next to theirs. She must've attended services with them regularly. Hyunjin can't think of any other reason why she'd come. Upon a glance of her face her eyes seem to light with recognition, Hyunjin's legs forcing themselves to still so as not to bolt straight out the doors.

She approaches him kindly, Hyunjin's hand slipping out of Changbin's immediately, heart hammering to the point where he thinks it might come bursting right out of his chest.

She offers neighborly, expected condolences, commenting politely on how nice it was to see him again. He looked just like his mother, she said. Hyunjin simply nods, lips stretched into a tight, nervous smile, not at all sure how he's supposed to react.

She turns sullen then, as if reminded with a heavy weight of why they were there. The black veil in front of her face flickers just slightly, moved by a nonexistent breeze. Hyunjin feels it too, he thinks, the chill running down his spine.

How sad it was, how cruel that Fate had given his step-father such a short life. Hyunjin understands then, that his mother had lied about his cause of death. He was such a nice man, helped fix her car once free of charge. Yes, Hyunjin remembers that. His mother had screamed all night because of it. Acid coats the insides of his mouth with blisters.

The woman rubs the side of his arm gently as if to offer some sort of impossible condolence before bidding them goodbye, sparing Changbin a rather skeptical glance as she filters into the nave of the church. Hyunjin turns to Changbin then, a soft smile gracing his lips at the bewildered look on his face.

A few swirls of ink peek up from the collar of his shirt, small notes of tattoos right above the cuffs of his wrist. Hyunjin knows he isn't used to such close-mindedness, his fingers lacing back into Changbin's eagerly, regretting that he'd ever let go.

Squeezing his hand, Changbin leads him gently into the nave, the aisles expanding outward just as stiflingly as he'd remembered. Hyunjin swallows harshly, eyes skirting around everywhere despite how unfeeling his legs have become, body moved by some invisible force as he inches closer and closer to the altar.

Hyunjin doesn't look at anything else then, doesn't stop to turn and carve within him the faces of others that mourn, the way the light casts itself darkly through the ceiling or the stained glass that hollows out the room in a wintry, frostbitten blue. Instead they remain locked and transfixed, frozen to that horrid gleam of the altar, the casket sleek and mahogany as it breathes wickedly into the air.

Somehow he doesn't stumble, doesn't falter or fall to his knees in agony and yet something tiny, something vital shifts within him. A small hit to his chest, a sudden detachment of his lungs.

Relief over the fact that the casket remains closed only flourishes for the briefest of seconds, his insides collapsing like dominos that he'd foolishly decided to play. His breath constricts in his throat, hands going numb, heart jumbled around his ribcage as if not knowing what to do with itself; where to land, where to rest.

Unknowingly he feels himself led to the front row, someone helping him sit down onto the bench as his eyes continue not to waver, staring, staring, staring into the closed locket of his past, something buzzing beneath the lid, begging, aching to be opened. Somewhere, deep and encrusted with sickness, he wishes it would.

Pain flares inside his stomach, desperation marring his core as he yearns, yearns, yearns for things he can't speak, to embroider once again that flimsy, pretty veil of something nice and colored with blush, something childlike and tittering beneath the sun. Something that wouldn't hurt.

Instead there's nothing left, body abandoned with the death of a noose and flesh, a rotted, chewed up cluster of mold spit back out into his heart, staining it beaten and jaded.

He barely registers his mother's presence beside him, the sudden scoff of her voice drawing him away from the hypnotizing casings of the casket, her face just as bloodless and unmoving as it had been that meagre week ago.

Still something subtle, something not knowing quite where to land shifts behind her eyes, a drooping, tilting outpour of her soul spilling onto the ground. No one to catch it, no one to care.

She sits down next to him, a plain black dress draped across her body, raven hair sloped into a tight, frigid bun, her gaze searing into his as her mouth twitches, lips barely moving despite the way her whisper cuts. "You look like a whore."

Hyunjin almost laughs from the absurdity of it all, not knowing what he'd expected, drawn immediately out of his dazed, benumbed stupor. He assumes she's talking about his makeup, his eyes coated prettily, skin unblemished and youthful despite how deadened he feels on the inside.

The juxtaposition of her hatred and the cross gleaming above them somewhere in the distance clashes gratingly within his head, eyebrow raised as he leans in quietly, careful not to be overheard by the priest. "That's funny because that woman over there was just telling me how much I look like you."

His mother promptly ignores him, turning instead to cast a quick, distasteful look over at Changbin, eyebrows furrowing in perplexity. "Who is this?"

"Changbin." Hyunjin looks her unwaveringly in the eye, sure that he once upon a time would have relished any reaction his mother might've paid attention to the boys he trailed after. Now all he feels is strangely protective, stomach squeezing in a brewing, compressed anger. "My boyfriend."

"Why does he look like that?" Her mouth tilts into a deep, sloping frown, something wicked yet pained flashing through her gaze. "Is he some sort of thug?"

Hyunjin's stomach bursts into tiny ruptured vessels of fury, voice low and seething as he leans in closer, determined to make each and every word pointed jarringly her way. "If you don't shut the fuck up, I am going to cause a scene so huge you'll wish that you had never been born."

His mother only purses her lips, flashes of rage simmering behind her eyes as she opens her mouth to spit back, blasphemous words dying in the back of her throat as the priest reaches the altar, his voice clearing and his arms spreading, the funeral service commencing at last.

Hyunjin's heart stops, whatever anger he'd held onto withering away immediately as waves of cold burst through his body, hand clutching onto Changbin's so tightly his knuckles turn white and painfully stretched.

Once again the reminder courses through him in shocks, tumbling throughout his mind as he dismally tries to catch onto it, carve some sense of the paths he'd left behind. Still nothing. Only slow, ebbing static, head submerged underwater as each word turns muffled and indistinct.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity of the heavens..."

Hyunjin stares at the casket, uncaring of the man who speaks. Nothing he says would matter anyway, would make even the slightest of difference to the wounds in his heart. He doesn't know. Nobody knows. His mother does.

Hyunjin doesn't look at her, eyes trapped upon the dark, smoothened wood, fingers itching to reach out and touch, to graze along its side until dust begins to coat his flesh, mind unraveling at the sight. He'd know what to do then, scrub his hands, over and over and over again. One, two, three. He doesn't know what to do now. And so he simply stares.

"A time to be born and a time to die.."

The light above casts its rays upon the altar like haloes, its pearly strands rippling down the casket, glimmering delicately upon the petals of the flowers. Intentional, he's sure. One brittle promise of Heaven to appease the eyes of God, of mourners. Give the watchers what they want. Hyunjin understands that better than anyone.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time."

He catches sight of the flowers then, heart tracing their softened petals with each quickened, interrupted beat. Lilies. White. Carefully arranged, lovingly clustered together, unable to part from the stems that entwine them so. Hyunjin stares at them with rage tunneling through his stomach, squeezing and squeezing its way up into his chest, booming as it expands into every corner.

Gentle, bashful - shy from the mellow breeze. Hyunjin thinks only of Jia in the wake of such snowy, spotless petals. His step-father doesn't deserve them, doesn't deserve one inch of their stem and how dare they place such beauty beneath his rotted, sinful body?!

"He has also set eternity in the human heart..."

How could they all sit there like this, bathed in a wicked, abhorrent illusion, body falling into steady rocks of grief as if illness did not brew in the very core, in the very linings of their hearts?! Day after day, turning a blind eye, one hand reaching for the Holy Book as the door slams shut with the other. His feet shake on the way home from school, head tilting from fatigue. On the edge of the porch do they swing restlessly back and forth, bored, bored, bored.

"Yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

The clock doesn't strike, an irregularity in the day. Hyunjin hates it when things don't go as planned. Hastily he runs into his room, careful to take off his shoes, not wanting to catch sight of his mother before he has to. Before dinner. If he's good, that is.

The front door slams shut, his body flinching from the sound. Sometimes she walks to his room right away, barging her way in, asking questions he doesn't know the answers to. Mostly she avoids it, keeps away from his door as if it were cursed. Hyunjin supposes she doesn't like thinking about it often.

This time it flings open, her eyes narrowing immediately. Laundry time. She strips off the sheets quickly, as if wanting to get it done before a thought could form. There's a spot. Hyunjin watches it with terror. He knows his mother can see it.

She twists her head, stuffing it into her basket, turning away. When the door slams shut, Hyunjin stares at the emptiness in her wake. Relieved, angry. Such childish, silly emotions. He wishes he could get rid of them, back then. Now they're all he has left.

"Now let us rise as we sing."

The ghostly chill of a deadened, haunted air strings his legs upright. His mouth doesn't move, frozen into things best kept silent. Hyunjin thinks that despite his mortality, his step-father's death feels oddly like each time he'd left in the middle of the night, Hyunjin gazing into his retreating shadow unknowing of when he'd see it again.

Breathing would turn easier, heart would sink heavier. Like crawling, hungry insects, disgust crept up his thigh, clinging to his flesh. Vanity shimmers in his head, pride sweetening through his chest. He knew he was cherished, desired. Loved.

"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want..."

And the one thing he always knew, knew like the clefts of the canyons, was that he'd come back again. Leave him cradling the same feelings night after night. This time he won't, no. The door remains shut, Hyunjin staring at its handle, waiting for it to turn.

"He makes me down to lie..."

Guilt throttles him quietly, something sickly caught in the back of his throat. If he hadn't left, would the handle continue to twist?

"In pastures green, He leadeth me..."

Would he still be waiting on the other side, unable to mold his limbs into something else? Unable to cry, breathe, sleep between walls that did not peel? Would he want to, even?

"The quiet waters by."

Something squeezes his hand then, Hyunjin dropping his gaze to look down at Changbin's fingers woven into his. Wetness drips down his cheeks, tears in silent outpour without him having realized. Slowly his cranes his neck back up to Changbin, a small, comforting smile resting upon his face. Hyunjin tries to return it, unsure, in the end, if he'd been able to do it.

The hum of music around them withers away eventually and for a moment it feels as if it's just the two of them, alone and in peace, the rest of the world having faded to the ground a long, long time ago.

It doesn't matter then, he realizes, how his path could have drawn himself in another life. He was living this one, after all, his fingers holding onto it tight enough to make sure he'd never be able to let go.

Like lost, scurrying ants, the cluster of people begin to trail themselves out of the nave, pallbearers hunching down to their knees as they lift the heavy casing of mahogany, directing the colony outside to its rightful home.

Hyunjin's legs can hardly move as he finds them being shuffled. Family is supposed to walk first, after all. His mother stands up rigidly, head held high, jaw frozen into place, the clacking of her heels echoing upon the floorboards as if part of the belltower's chime.

Hyunjin follows hesitantly, color draining from his face as soon as the sunlight cascades all around them. It's almost cruel, he thinks, how sunny the sky would paint itself. Or perhaps it was entirely too fitting. A little joke, just for him. Hyunjin never knows anymore, what he's supposed to feel.

Changbin's hand rests on his lower back as he helps guide him out into the cemetery, mounds of graves flourishing from the dirt like autumn flowers, the tall, looming trees creating a quiet, peaceful shade in which to rest.

They don't walk for long, the stretch of grass not particularly big, before the men come to a sudden halt, a large, cavernous opening beneath the earth threatening to swallow them all within.

People gather around behind them, the casket lowered until it reaches level ground. Hyunjin spots his gravestone clearly then, a dull, unremarkable thing. The cheapest stone she could've found, no doubt. His mother wasn't one for much frivolity. Hyunjin stares at his name, the letters burning and scorching the roof of his mouth, tongue prickling uncomfortably as he tries to rip his gaze away.

He can't, he can't, not until the movement of his mother catches his eye instead, her hand reaching outward clasped tightly together, fingers opening slowly as strands of dirt fall onto the wood. She does it twice, fingertips spilling their usual soil until she turns to him, eyes hollow and dead. The priest looks at him too, waiting, expectant.

Hyunjin's heart quickens, body erupting into a cold, horrified sweat, the palms of his hand curling in on themselves as he shakes his head quietly, no, no, no. His step-father had already muddied him enough. Did he really need to do it one last time, beyond death, beyond earth? Was smearing scars of soil within the living not enough?

The priest remains slightly taken aback at that, but composes himself quickly enough. His mother says nothing, eyes frozen upon the patches of dirt as they trickle down the sides of the wood. The priest says something then, words loud yet indecipherable. Hyunjin only stares, a pitiful, worn-down mirror of his mother.

A bird chirps in the distance, the song sweet and gentle as it tumbles toward the grass. A sparrow, perhaps. Maybe a cardinal. Hyunjin wants to rip at its feathers, snap it off its branch.

As the body lowers into the ground, he becomes struck by that grating melody, has half a mind to tumble forward and spit on it. Smile, kick at the sides with satisfaction in his veins. Fall to his knees as he weeps, arms clutching around the wood, refusing to let go. Run far, far away before he gets the chance to start screaming.

Instead he does nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Just like his mother. Hyunjin doesn't want to end up like his mother.

The burial finishes with broken chips to his memory. There's a heavy air, a solemn lack of breath, as if it would be disrespectful to exhale above those who no longer could. Something cracks within him, the world returning back with its full force from when it had become frozen, stuck, all those days ago.

Everything's too bright then, the shade of grass almost blinding, the black cluster of limbs spilling over the edge, seeping into the mud like splattered, overbrimmed oil.

Hyunjin stares at the gravestone, at the mounting clumps of dirt almost covering the entirety of the casket, nearly filled to the top. His fingers itch, clicking at his lighter, cigarette crumpling from the heat. Body returned to the earth, where it belonged, where it would rest and decay until inseparable from nature.

Hyunjin takes a slow, poisonous drag, smoke filtering out like exhaust to a rusty, irreparable car.

His mother turns to stare at him, face scrunched up with distaste. The priest's eyes widen, someone murmuring behind his back. Hyunjin thinks he can hear Changbin stifling a laugh, as if in approval. He doesn't care, he thinks, isn't doing it to be disrespectful, to be humorous. None of them know what it's like to feel your lungs clog with dust.

He burns holes into the casket then, its entirety covered by now, disappearing with one swift drag of his heart. His birdkeeper knows. Knows better than anyone.

One by one, the shadows around him trail back away into the church, waning like dying, wilting flowers in the wake of September.

His mother remains, frozen into a statue, the only signals of life contained to the flashes of anger that pass through her pupils each time he breathes, smoke rippling like ashes between them. The priest leaves too, after a while. Changbin comes standing even closer then, his breath tickling the back of his neck.

His mother's mouth opens, closes abruptly, then opens again as if not knowing what to say. Eventually it withers into something tightly held back, no emotion to grace the curves of her voice. "There will be a reception held soon. Inside the church, in one of the empty rooms. Will you come?"

Hyunjin turns to stare at her then, something frightened and barely visible scattered across her face. It does nothing but anger him. "Do you want me to?"

His mother purses her lips, face twisting loathsomely as if unable to help itself. "I-Can you put that out? You're being horribly disrespectful."

Hyunjin only takes another drag, words quiet yet piercing through the lack of noise around them. "You smoke."

"Not anymore," she says, the edges of her words thinning into gauzelike, flimsy sheets of lies.

Hyunjin holds out his packet of cigarettes, his mother staring at it for what feels like an eternity before snatching it out of his hand. She reaches for her own pocket then, a small white lighter slotting through her fingers. Hyunjin almost laughs.

Something zaps through her body, a chill running down his spine at the way her limbs seem to ease just slightly, falling into place, into the familiar, sharpened talons she knows how to wield so well. Hyunjin swallows, pushing the anxiety of his gut down, down, down until it crumbles.

His mother turns to cast a brief look at Changbin then, clearly unimpressed. "Is he just gonna hover around? What are you, his bodyguard?"

"Yes, actually," Changbin smiles, Hyunjin almost flinching from the sudden sound, having nearly forgotten he was still there. His mother says nothing, eyes narrowing as if concocting within her head all sorts of negative stories to amuse herself with through the outbranching of her loneliness.

"I'm not going to the reception," Hyunjin says, a tense, unnerved edge to his voice. He tries not to look at her, eyes falling every so often upon the gravestone, clouds of smoke obscuring the letters pleasantly.

A few neglected strands of hair fall loose from her bun, the small, whispering breeze curling them pitifully upon her face. "They're taking the house, you know."

Hyunjin turns to her then, eyes widening as his heart quickens. He doesn't care, no, he doesn't. "What?"

"The house." The grip on her cigarette tightens immediately. "I can't afford it anymore."

Hyunjin scans the craters of her face, the gentle slope of her mouth, the sharp jewel of her eyes. He needs to make sure it isn't another trick, something wretched and ugly to toss him around with. His brain whirrs into motion, stopping itself abruptly before it gets the chance to reach too far back.

Quietly, coarsely, as though he wishes he wouldn't remember, Hyunjin mutters, "I thought he bought life insurance, after that raise. Don't you receive it?"

The muscles in his mother's jaw twitch, something dark and permanently damaged cloaking her snowy, tired skin. She takes another drag, quick, desperate, head craning up to the sky as if its vastness would somehow swallow her away. "It doesn't cover suicide."

"So you can lie to the church but not to the insurance people." Hyunjin huffs out an empty, disbelieving laugh, his insides crumpling to something ashen and sickly.

"Of course not." His mother's voice turns brisk and harsh then, as if such questions were simply too stupid for her to entertain. Hyunjin feels small beneath her gaze. Gutted. Anger burns within his stomach. "They'll look at his death certificate, at the coroner's report."

Hyunjin's grip on his cigarette loosens, arm falling limply to the side as he swallows away the bile in his throat. "Why are you telling me this?"

"It's your childhood home," she says, words turning pointed, acute, lips spilling out rays of smoke as they dribble down her chin. "Don't you care?"

Hyunjin scoffs, an incredulous smile flitting across his face. "Are you really asking that right now?"

"Of course you don't, otherwise you wouldn't have left," she snaps, something lethal and blistering brewing beneath her gaze. Her voice swivels erratically then, a strange, foreign desperation tinted within it. "They're gonna take the house, you want me to end up on the street?"

Anger coats his feathers as if dipped right into an inkwell, flesh turning spattered and deformed in the wake of her unfeeling, ignorant face. He turns to her furiously then, voice seething as he tries not to topple over from the molten lava that pours itself down his back. "From someone who actually did live on the street, yes I think that would be great for you. Would humble you."

How he'd detested her blindness, her carelessness, longed year after year to scream the pain of his lungs right into her, infuse her with even just the tiniest sliver of agony she'd thrust into him!

Her face contorts itself indignantly into the wind, the hatred of her eyes like a pin to come knocking him down, tumble all over himself with the weight of the world. "You chose to leave! I didn't choose this!"

His chest tightens then, hot, vicious coals burning his flesh to cinders as he screams. "I chose to leave?!" How dare she, how dare she talk, walk, breathe into the same crevices as him after everything she'd stolen, after everything she'd snatched beneath his feet before he got the chance to find his balance.

Vaguely he thinks he can feel Changbin shift somewhere behind him, inching closer, fingers ghosting over his shoulder but he doesn't care, doesn't feel anything but the remnants of the weakened, battered bones of his youth.

"I chose to leave? It was my last option, I couldn't fucking do one more night in that house with you or-or that man! Living on the streets saved my life, it was a fucking hellhole but still better than anything in that house! Maybe if you hadn't treated me like shit or married someone who wasn't so fucking despicable, maybe I would've been happy to help you!"

The sky cracks open with a deep and sudden rift, his mother's tongue unfurling each vial of poison she nurses night after night, protectively, maternally. The only meal that hasn't yet lost its taste. "Maybe if you weren't such a rotten child I would have loved you! After everything I sacrificed for you, it's the least you can do!"

"Sacrifice?" His mother never told him that she loved him, Hyunjin knows, knows it well and deep and yet it cuts him all the same, the dagger in his heart pulsating from the swollen arteries keeping it in place. He scoffs, eyes wide and indignant, body vibrating with outrage. "Sacrifice?! What exactly have you fucking sacrificed?!"

"Everything!" Her cigarette drops its way somewhere to the ground, Hyunjin's following suit as if a baby trailing after its mother. "I lost everything because of you!"

Something ruptures through his chest then, the hollow of his mouth flooding with rotten, oozing flavors that all but drip, drip, drip their age into the air, old and neglected pieces of cobweb finally reflected beneath the light.

"What did I do to you, what the fuck did I ever do to you?" The world disappears around them then, leaving nothing but a desperate, pitiful swell of tears to blur the edges that trap them so. "I didn't ask to be born, it's not my fault you got pregnant!"

"You were a horrible child!" His mother spits, face seized into something monstrous, something chipped away and breaking at the seams. Hyunjin doesn't recognize her, not anymore. "Always causing trouble! You were so loud and always crying!"

Her head shakes then, as if unable to handle such fathomless facts, the threads of her mind unraveling at the mere memory, voice turning low and spiteful. "I'm your mother and you should have respected me. That's just the way it is. But you never did. And your step-father was a good man, a good man who loved me and now you're ruining his funeral!"

Hyunjin's stomach bursts, vision flashing with something so scalding he fears he'll momentarily go blind, the walls of his childhood bedroom falling to the ground with one loud, deafening bang, demolition splintering it to pieces.

"A good man?!" His eyes bulge, words laced with desperation and pain, hatred coursing through his veins as he spits. "Please. You're still hanging on to this, this sick little delusion in your head." Through the mirror of his mother does he see for perhaps the first time ever, the true, undistorted reflection of his birdkeeper. "You know he was not a good man, you know what he did to me!"

His mother's body stills, soul tilting over the edge as her face freezes, color draining from her face until she remains nothing but an empty, cold-hearted shell, daring him, challenging him to pour into her the emotion she's rid herself of a long, long time ago. "I don't know anything."

Hyunjin's heart hammers so loudly then he's sure its thumping would come reverberating off the ground, burrowing its way into the dirt until the maggots began to feast. He doesn't care, doesn't care anymore, can't look her in the eye drowned in such foolish, foolish games, an aching, bruised anger brushing through the tips of his fingers as they reach straight into his core.

"Yes, you do, yes you fucking do!" Terrified, shiny strips of truth dance as they linger upon her face. Night after night she looks away, turns her head the other side. Hyunjin lets her. Not anymore, no. Not anymore.

"Say it then." His mother's words turn icy and mocking, eyebrow arched cruelly as she glares at him. "What don't I know?"

Hyunjin falters, breath constricting in his throat, legs weakening as he tries not to buckle beneath their weight, that heavy, foul-smelling lump caught stuck down his windpipe.

"Exactly. You can't say it, because nothing happened-"

"You know what he did, he-" The ghost of his younger self draws small, silent patterns upon his knees, tears spilling down silently as he tries to distract himself from that awful way in which his stomach always hurts. Painful, clenching, Hyunjin clutches around himself until it goes away, Bunny pressed tightly to his ribs, fur wet as he weeps. "You know what he did when he went into my room!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about-"

"He touched-" His breath hitches, hot, clammy fingers wrapped around his thigh, spreading them apart. His eyes flutter shut, chest heaving up and down. "We had sex, we-" he doesn't know what word to use, how to speak things he's never understood into existence, cords wrapped around his battered heart as it strangles it at last, veins rupturing, blood pouring everywhere as a sob bursts its way through him.

"He raped me! That man raped me for ten years and you did nothing! Nothing!" Faintly he hears a few birds scatter away from the treetops, voice raw and aching as he continues to scream. "You just sat there like some coward in your own ignorance, playing pretend that nothing was going on!"

"You're lying-"

He can't see the way his mother looks then, can't see anything but his own face streaked with the sin of a youth interrupted, hidden, hidden, hidden away into corners unlit by the sun, by the moon. Instead the only light he sees is the glint of fire in shadowed eyes as they plunge right into his soul, plucking off each feather and placing them back together again, prettier, better than they were before.

"I'm not lying and you know I'm not!" Illness infests his lungs, scraping their way inside of him until there's nothing but a dying, pus-filled infection to blister the ridges of his heart. "Why are you defending him? I know it hurt you too, otherwise you wouldn't have pretended it wasn't happening!"

His mother says nothing, mouth shut, eyes plucked right out, thrown off somewhere in the distance. A sick, malicious spiral of contempt twists itself down his spine, licking long, addicting stripes up his throat, tickling the anger he cradles in the palms of his hands.

He steps closer then, breath tinted by something rotten and slaughtered, his mother nothing but a tiny, insignificant flea in his wake, too plain, too unremarkable for that which always bloomed in the dark.

"You're a fucking coward, is what you are." He wants to hurt her, wants to twist, twist, twist his claws right into her soul. "How does it feel, huh, knowing that the only reason he married you was to get close to me?"

Something dark coats his mother's face then, brewing and lethal as it strikes her right in the core. Good, he thinks. "Is that why you hate me so much, because you're always second place? Because you were dumb enough to marry a- a childlover?" He spits, the word like mucus as it drips from his tongue. "Because he tricked you right from the start?"

She deserves it, he thinks, deserves to feel the weight of the sky as it presses you down, hunched over your shoulders, jaw wide and looming as it grazes its teeth on the top of your head day after day, getting closer and closer to its inevitable feast, yes she deserves it, deserves to feel her heart ripped right out of her chest and flung to the ground, trampled and battered upon until it remains nothing but a ghastly pitiful beast in which no one will touch and no one will love-

"Because you seduced him!" Her hair falls into pieces right in front of him, eyes bulging as she screams, the sound of her cries knocking out each breath and phantom of life as it comes tumbling into the soil. "You seduced him, you took him away from me!"

Wide-eyed, frozen - Hyunjin stares back at her with ice poured down his spine, stomach dropping, clunking, rolling away into the distance as he whispers, voice ghostlike and terrified. "What?"

The anger in his mother topples over itself like tiles eager to fall. "First you made your father go away and then you took him from me too! It's all your fault!"

"Seduced?!" Vomit slithers up his throat, head prickling with a floaty, airy sensation. "I was seven when he started, seven!" The tips of his fingers turn numb, needles spreading throughout his flesh. "I didn't want this!" Somewhere in the distance he thinks the sun begins to fall, tumbling to the ground with no one to bid it goodbye. "I didn't ask for this!"

"Oh please." His mother doesn't look like anything he's ever seen before, the fragments of her face plastered together so jarringly, the entire horizon spinning in order to make sense of it. "You were cursed by the Devil the minute you were born!" Her eyes turn a bit bigger, hair a bit shorter, lips forming themselves cruelly as they continue to spit unearthly gospel. "Of course you seduced him."

She looks like him, Tiger Lily, Dove, rotten, rotten boy. Hyunjin doesn't know his own name anymore. "You were jealous of me, always parading around in small shorts and sitting on his lap trying to get his attention." His reflection twists, revulsion so pure draping itself everywhere, acid trickling down the corner of his mouth, slaughtering the grass. "It makes me sick, you make me sick!"

Hyunjin sees the way the heavens blur before he feels it, legs buckling beneath his weight, eyes rolling to the back of his head, limbs falling, falling, falling into someone else's arms. Changbin catches him gracefully, something loud and muffled shouting somewhere he can't reach, words harsh and reprimanding as he fails to catch onto their meaning.

His breath becomes lodged somewhere in the back of his throat, chest heaving up and down as a sob rips through his lungs, Changbin's hold around him tightening, easing back up again as he continues to sputter.

"I can't-I can't-"

Changbin shushes him gently, muttering beneath his ear as he supports his weight with his arms, cries wrenched right out of him with each wobbly step he takes. "Let's go back to the car, yeah?"

Hyunjin's breath hitches, pain and hysteria flaring through his stomach, the world slanting too quickly, too deeply, before he gets the chance to find his footing. He sees nothing but the blurred outlines of the church as his body begins to float. "Don't leave me please, you can't leave me, you can't, you can't, you promised-"

"I'm not gonna leave you." Something rustles close by, something gentle and commanding, his arm clutching onto its shoulder, fingernails digging in deep, deep, deep. "Hyunjin don't listen to her, please-"

"She's right, she's right-" Acid pools in his mouth, gut clenching with swift, vicious jabs of nausea, his tongue coating itself with the most acrid, most repulsive taste he's ever felt.

"She's not, Hyunjin I promise." He wishes he could kick that little boy to shreds, wishes he could reach back to years and years ago and press his weakened neck down, down, down into the pond, hear him sputter and choke, scream and cry, his little body going limp at last until peaceful, musical silence became them.

"You are the furthest thing from disgusting, the only reason she said any of that stuff is because it's easier for her to blame you than her own neglect." Things would have been easier then, for everyone, his mother should've gotten rid of him when she had the chance, yes, should've locked the door and swallowed the key until he wasted away upon those wretched, threadbare sheets..

"She doesn't want to face reality so she makes up lies for her own comfort." Sticky, warm, all the swelters of summer trapped within their comfort. "Hyunjin, nothing that she said was even remotely true." All the slaughter of autumn within their snare.

He leans sluggishly against the car, unsure of when they'd made it back out to the parking lot, torso bending over swiftly as putrid, dying chunks of vomits slither out his throat, chest heaving as he retches onto the ground.

Changbin catches him before he stumbles once again, body keeling over into a pitiful, tear-stained heap within his arms. Hyunjin doesn't know how long he stands there, bile dripping down his chin, sickness pouring into the scorching concrete, all the energy and wails of his heart seeping out of him like rain to the meadow as it tramples the flowers below.

A loud sob rips through him then, eyes squeezing tightly shut until he dares to open them at last, the harsh, jarring rays of the sun streaming through a few seconds too quick, his gaze struggling to catch up. Hyunjin sniffles, body slumping tiredly against Changbin's, fingers rattling against each other as he continues to spill silent, blistering tears.

Changbin takes hold of his face gently then, hands cleaning away the remnants of illness with a wet wipe, Hyunjin following his every movement as if waiting for the rapture. He doesn't know what to do, what to say, how not to crumble within his touch, leans in to Changbin's guidance like falling into the strenuous act of breathing.

Changbin helps him settle into the car, Hyunjin's fingers reaching for Bunny immediately as another cry pulsates through his chest. The engine starts back to life, the sound loud and making him flinch as he closes his eyes, hot ripples coursing through his ribcage, his bones sore and raw from how boiling the day turns itself.

He isn't sure how long Changbin drives, knows it must've been mere minutes beneath the light of sun, but here, in the dark of his closed, trembling eyelids, Hyunjin thinks time stretches upon itself for years and years to haunt him with.

Another cry pierces the tiny space of their confinement, his mother's words welding themselves into his flesh as he weeps from the pain, skin turning disfigured and bruised from the continuous way in which it thrashes back and forth.

Changbin takes hold of his hands then, clutching onto them tightly as he brings a finger up to his face, Hyunjin flinching from the touch, eyes opening gradually as he sniffles, desperate, selfish for Changbin's comfort to cradle him. They must've stopped on the side of some plain, barren road.

Changbin gives him a pained, earth-shattering smile, eyes pooling with heartache as he leans forward and wraps him into a hug, Hyunjin falling into pieces once more as he sobs onto his shoulder. Changbin rubs his back, the two of them sitting there like that for an eternity, limbs woven into one another, souls stretching side by side, their paths narrower and narrower until they eventually meet.

Changbin disentangles himself from Hyunjin once his tight grip begins to loosen, a hand placed upon his thigh as his eyes skim over him gently. "Hey, wanna see something?"

Hyunjin only sniffles in response, fingers rubbing at his eyes as Changbin leans forward to open the glove compartment, Hyunjin gazing into him with a rapt, desperate attention. "Jia made you this drawing before we left. I wanted to wait until after the funeral before I showed you."

Changbin smiles then, fishing forth a sheet of paper as he hands it over, the colors glimmering from how the sun catches them behind the window. "I thought you might need it, look."

Hyunjin takes hold of it meekly, eyes scanning it with rapid tears welling within them, his heart cracking and piecing itself back together again the longer he stares. Drawn with meticulous, loopy curves stand a trio of oddity interlaced through their fingers, a funny looking walrus, a pink jellyfish and at the end, completing their little three-leafed clover, a smiling, black cat.

Hyunjin sniffles, turning up to look at Changbin as his eyes glisten with emotions that swell inside his chest. "Sh-she made that?"

"Yeah." Hyunjin looks down at it again, their names scribbled over each of them cutely. Daddy - Me - Hyunjinnie. Hyunjin smiles weakly, stomach rupturing in fondness. They look like a real family, he thinks. "She really adores you Hyunjin, more than you know. She learned how to spell your name even."

Hyunjin looks back up again, eyes wide and blurry, bottom lip quivering as the pain lodged beneath his flesh flares back to life. Small, shiny petals of hope bloom within him, their softness brushing through his heart. "S-so you're not gonna leave me?"

"No. Why would I- Hyunjin, no." Changbin stares into him with all the earnest he carries, hands coming up to cradle the side of his face as he whispers, the words loud and booming despite the fragile, desperate way in which they hone themselves. "I'm not gonna leave you. I promise, I...if I lost you, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. You're everything to me, I swear."

Hyunjin's lip trembles once more, tears welling in his eyes as they threaten to spill over. His head echoes painfully with his mother's voice, fingernails clawing into his skin, the sullied truth of his dirtied knees buckling at last from the weight they've always carried. "B-but what about w-what she said, d-doesn't it disgust you? All the t-things I did j-just for him to l-love me."

His chest bristles, agony clumping together in his stomach, the gravestone flashing throughout his mind. Six feet under and yet closer than ever, Hyunjin thinks, dark, fluttering shadows reaching out to throttle him.

Neglected tears stream down his cheeks, eyes pooling with everything he could never make sense of, Changbin lacing his fingers within his, words like a sharp, blinding dagger to his heart.

"He took advantage of you, he hurt you Hyunjin." Changbin stares at him intently, as if it essential for Hyunjin to understand. "He didn't love you."

Hyunjin's lower lip wobbles, eyes cast out ahead of them, following the slopes of a barren, forgotten road to nowhere. The boy of his childhood cries, legs falling to the ground as silent screams echo into the desert.

"It's just that...if you say that, then w-who did?" Up ahead there's a few scattered stones biding their time, waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to drive past their loneliness. A quiet, abandoned sound tumbles out of his throat. "Who loved me then?"

"I do."

Hyunjin turns to Changbin immediately, heart quickening, stomach falling and rising with the speed of a blinking, uncatchable second. Still Hyunjin catches it, strings it within his flesh like the final, tear-stained piece to his wing. Broken, weakened. Changbin caresses it all the same, eyes softening, mouth tilting upward into a gentle, innocent smile.

"I love you." His words breathe themselves into the tangerine breeze like they'd always been there; waiting, biding their time for the right winds to carry it. "And if I'd have known you growing up I would have loved you then too."

"You love me?" His voice sounds broken as he speaks, chipped and disbelieving, circled around the edges with a shimmering, radiant hope. The coarse, rugged splinters of his flesh thread themselves with silk, weaving their gentleness into the very craters of his heart.

"Yes." Changbin's smile mellows around the edges, emotion surging through his voice and yet Hyunjin is sure he's never seen, heard or breathed anything more eclipsing in his entire life. "I love you so much. The first time that I saw you braiding Jia's hair...that's when I knew. I probably already knew from the first time I heard you laugh."

Changbin smiles fondly then, tracing the outlines of the memory within his head. "I kept thinking about it...the sound of your laughter like a songbird calling out to me." His hands tighten around his fingers, sincerity and devotion pouring out of him like rays from the sun. Hyunjin latches onto every single one, desperate, aching for a breath in the warmth. "I wanted to tell you sooner but...I didn't want to scare you. I don't expect you to say it back, I just...I love you Hyunjin."

Changbin's face settles into something kind and natural, as if merely a part of the glowing, marigold sky, invigored, relieved by the outpour of his love as if it had been contained within for far too long. Hyunjin can't help the way he stares, lips curving upward with a pure, unwary softness.

It doesn't matter, he thinks, if those lonesome rocks in the distance live their life awaiting meagre cars to pass them by. They have the sun, the moon. There isn't much else you need, not really. His fingers clutch around the drawing, eyes falling into the promises of the man who loves him. Hyunjin has them both.

"When you got me Bunny." The words fall from him easily then, a light, floating amusement grazing through the tips of his fingers. "That's when I realized you were too good for me to push you away any longer." He hadn't known why he'd thought it so scary, that rumbling, undented truth. "I knew right then and there that I loved you."

Hyunjin wishes he could immortalize the way Changbin's smile shatters the earth with a picture, lips stretching, eyes sparkling, Hyunjin's stomach swooping addictingly along the way. Instead he keeps it under lock within his heart, safely and carefully guarded, opening it every so often to retrace its edges with the expanse of his soul.

When Changbin reaches out to kiss him then, wholly, passionately, Hyunjin's heart thumps with the petals of his clover from all those months ago. He'd played a game, back then, ripping them off with the talons of his mind as they fell to heaps by his feet.

Hyunjin plays it now too, a smile breaking out against Changbin's lips with the force of the sky, over and over and over again. He loves me, he loves me not. Hyunjin doesn't have to be careful this time, in assuring where it lands. He already knows which petal will fall, in the end. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

 

-

 

The soft, yellow light above their table pours out pleasantly within the stretch of the diner they'd nestled themselves within. Changbin holds out the menu in front of him, Hyunjin reading off the list gratefully, refusing to touch it.

"The apple pie sounds good," he notes, eyes scanning the list as he rubs them absentmindedly. They're slightly swollen by now, tired and droopy from all the hours spent crying and yet his mouth quirks upward every few seconds, giddiness surging through him as he gives Changbin a shared, joyful look.

"I'm begging you to get some actual food," Changbin groans, the gentle lull of people coming and going chiming through the background. "We can have apple pie for dessert if you want, but you need some real food first."

"Okay Dad," Hyunjin grins, the clear, blue sky from outside the window casting a pleasant shimmer upon the table between them. "A very uncool decision, I might add. Jia would be disappointed."

Changbin groans once again, Hyunjin giggling behind his hand as he shakes his head in playful frustration. "I can never win."

"Don't worry, I won't tell her," he quips, raising an eyebrow as he hums happily, mouth stretching into a smile before he can stop it. "Since I love you and all."

Changbin's beam bounces off the walls around them immediately, a teasing grin flitting its way across his face. "And since I love you, I have to make sure your insides are okay."

Hyunjin only rolls his eyes but agrees nonetheless, Changbin ordering some egg sandwiches and a slice of apple pie as soon as the waitress comes to take their order. Hyunjin stares outside the window for a few seconds, the diner perched in the middle of nowhere, all the cars sitting out in the sun for a quick hunger-quenching refuge away from the open road.

Hyunjin clutches tightly onto Bunny from where he sits in his lap, fingers grazing onto the softness of his head like a comforting ritual to keep the clamor of his thoughts at bay. Changbin grins at him then, slamming his hands on the table once the waitress leaves as if having reached some great, big conclusion.

Hyunjin only stares at him questioningly, Changbin peering into him resolutely and earnest. "I've decided my life mission is to make you laugh every day."

Hyunjin quirks an eyebrow upward, stomach fluttering sweetly with each look he gives him. "And how are you going to do that?"

"By telling jokes of course," Changbin says it as if it's obvious, leaning away from the booth and across the table as if preparing for something critical, Hyunjin staring at him with intrigue. "Okay, what did the banana say to the orange after crossing the road?"

Hyunjin tries not to grin, shrugging his shoulders as he narrows his eyes skeptically. "I don't know, what?"

"Nothing," Changbin says simply, smiling happily as if proud of his answer. "Fruit can't talk."

Hyunjin only gazes at him in disbelief for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter, Changbin's dead-serious expression far too entertaining. "That was not funny."

"But you're laughing!" Changbin points, an insistent look on his face as Hyunjin places a hand over his mouth, subduing his laughter into small, floating giggles.

"I'm not laughing at the joke, I'm laughing at you."

Changbin settles into an appeased grin anyway, shrugging as his eyes flicker with light. "A win is a win."

Hyunjin only rolls his eyes despite his smile, making a show of how Bunny didn't think he was funny either to which Changbin's eyes pop out in playful outrage, promising to put Bunny in the freezer as soon as they get home.

Hyunjin gasps in disbelief then, the warm smell of their food arriving wafting comfortingly into his bones, soothing something within him. "You can't put Bunny in the freezer!"

"That's the punishment for having terrible humor," Changbin points, digging into the food joyfully as Hyunjin carefully starts eating his own, the process slow and meticulous from using his own cutlery.

"Then why have I never seen you in there?"

Changbin's eyebrow raises, an excited grin flitting across his face. "Hyunjin Hwang making jokes again? I think my ears are blessed."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, grinning nonetheless as he thinks back to the time they'd spent in the pizza parlor, chest easing with something blissful and ecstatic as adoration surges through him.

He puts down his knife and fork then, leaning in closer across the table as he peers into Changbin, timid almost, despite the joy in his heart. "Remember how you said you'd always wanted to see the Grand Canyon?"

Changbin smiles right away, eyes flickering with the echoes of the midnight stars from that very night. "Of course I remember that. It was our first date."

He bites his lip, clutching onto Bunny as he stares back hopefully. "Do you...do you still want to see it?"

Changbin's face lights up so quickly, Hyunjin almost gets whiplash, his entire body zapping with energy as he starts fishing forward dollar bills and placing them on the table. "I'll go get the car started right now."

Hyunjin only laughs delightedly in response, happiness tunneling through him as they get the rest of the food to go, his arms cradling Bunny with a calm sense of joy as he gets back into the passenger seat.

The roads before them wind largely and extensively, free in the open valley of the desert as they scuttle upon them like small ants down below. Hyunjin watches them for once with a sense of excitement instead of doom, the car having shuttered away from his hometown at last, leaving instead a vastness of miles and miles in which he hopes to never tread upon again.

For a while he sits with nothing but his newfound contentment, heart happy, stomach full, the bloodstreams within coursing silently throughout his limbs. It feels insane almost, how detached and on the verge of breaking he'd been just hours ago.

Hyunjin thinks back regrettably, his mother's words floating away from her face and out of God's, the church's belltower ringing cruelly every few seconds, the sound reverberating within his head.

His stomach tightens, small bursts of nausea erupting inside of him as he cranes his neck back to look at Changbin, his eyes planted firmly up ahead on the road. Changbin turns instinctively then, a fond smile stretching across his face as Hyunjin gives one back - easily and without a second thought.

The discomfort in his stomach seeps away slightly, gaze falling back upon the window as his head begins to spin, a strange, foreign feeling enveloping him then.

Hyunjin had never felt attached to his home, carried no good memories within it and yet for it to just disappear...he frowns, uncertain of the discordancy that snips right through him. It won't disappear, not really, just the things inside of them...his bed, that mirror right next to it. Their rickety old TV, the little box bursting in colors of cartoons when he was all alone.

A detached sense of sadness unfolds throughout his fingertips, gaze caught on an indistinguishable spot in the distance, his mind sludging into trails that echo dully within his head.

"I wonder what'll happen to all the videos and pictures if they're taking the house." He can't imagine his mother even sparing their encasing a glance, much less pondering the idea of keeping them. "They're in a box. Under their bed."

He thinks he can feel Changbin turn to look at him then, his own eyes remained firmly trained upon the blurry horizon beyond them. "They'll get destroyed, hopefully."

"Destroyed?" Hyunjin whips his head back around at that, small, spiky sensations of fear twisting inside of him. "No, they can't...they can't do that."

Changbin turns to him with his eyebrows furrowed, face etched into a deep frown as his eyes cloud with bewilderment. "Why not?"

"There's...there's hundreds of them," Hyunjin breathes out, chest constricting once more, Bunny tight in his grip. "They can't just...take them, can they?"

He casts a glance over his shoulder, the dusty rear window glass shining through with stretches and stretches of fruitless land. He stares at a small, grimy speck of dust for far too long, his vision focusing and obscuring every few seconds. "Maybe I should go back and get them..."

"What?" Changbin's voice drips with so much confoundment, Hyunjin snaps his head back to look at him, his eyes wide and earnest, face set into one of resolution. "No, no way. You cannot be serious. That stuff belongs to the police."

"The police?" Hyunjin frowns, fingers digging into his thigh, anxiety swiveling up his spine. He doesn't want anyone else to see those videos, doesn't need prying eyes to view the soiled sins of his upbringing, the grit of his flesh. His voice paints itself airy and tight, nerves scattered throughout. "He's dead, what are they gonna do with that?"

Changbin flits his eyes on and off the road a couple of times, landing at last upon him with a confused, almost frightened expression. "What are you gonna do with that? Hyunjin, there's absolutely no need for you to take that, it's just gonna reopen a bunch of memories better left alone."

His chest tightens then, all those sunless nights spent cornered and dazzling, stretching himself thin and pliant for the camera, pretty, pretty, pretty with each calculating movement of his limbs. The prettiest, the best. Hyunjin's heart hammers, a strange sense of panic coating his throat. "But- I don't want it to get destroyed!"

"Why not?!" Changbin turns to him dumbfounded, eyes wide and with a bleeding indignation, unable to fathom the words that fester between them. "That-that's child porn, you know that right?"

Hyunjin's gut snaps, irritation flickering within as he shoots him a sharp, aching glare. "Yes Changbin, that child is me. I fucking know what it is, I was there."

"I'm sorry." Changbin's face pales guiltily, gaze flickering rapidly back and forth between him and the road, voice falling into something low and remorseful. "I didn't mean...I'm sorry. I guess I just don't understand why you'd want to keep it..."

Hyunjin turns to stare up ahead, fingers cradling onto Bunny as if it were a lifeline, fresh tears beginning to brew behind his eyes. Of course he doesn't want to keep them, his stomach filling with nausea at the thought and yet...tiny snares within cling onto them harshly, digging their nails into their sin, his flesh grazing along them stubbornly, refusing to let go.

"I don't know..." he says, voice barely tinted beyond a whisper, a silent, lonesome tear trickling down his cheek. "I guess it just feels like...like if it gets destroyed, then I'll have to let go." He wipes it away hastily, teeth scraping along his bottom lip. "I'm not ready to let go."

Changbin says nothing for a few seconds, gaze caught upon the road in front of them, plunged deep into thought. His eyes flit over toward him eventually, deep and insistent, aching with the echoes of Hyunjin's pain. "Whatever happens to those videos and photos doesn't erase the fact that they were taken, that they existed with you in them, that you went through that."

Changbin pauses then, Hyunjin staring at him intently, something loud and like glue to piece together his splinters laced between them. "And the fact that he's dead doesn't either."

Hyunjin wipes away a few more tears, the deep rift in his heart filling itself just slightly, Changbin turning back to look at him with a loving, devoted sincerity. "Hyunjin, nobody expects you to heal just because he's gone."

Changbin takes one hand off the wheel, his fingers lacing themselves within his own, each touch like a pleasant, necessary agony for his soul to rid itself of. "The pain he caused doesn't disappear along with him. You're allowed to hold onto it, you're allowed to feel whatever you feel."

Hyunjin sniffles, Bunny pressed tight and desperately against his ribcage with his free hand. "I just...I have no ties to my home anymore. Everything's gone except my mother." The desert around them turns bleary and sullen, the wound inside his chest throbbing with each word that tumbles out of his mouth, coated in shadowed, slaughtered cries.

"So...why does it still hurt so much? Why can't I let go?" A sob chokes past his lips, vision turning blurry and indistinct, a far, far away dream. "Why don't I want to let go?"

Changbin squeezes his hand, the car swerving up ahead into a stop, the world around him hazy and pale. "It's all you've known Hyunjin, it's understandable."

Vaguely in the back of his head Hyunjin thinks he spots the signs heading up to the Grand Canyon, his heart bleeding as he weeps, his grip on Bunny falling as he latches onto Changbin instead. "Then why don't I get it?"

"There's comfort in pain." Changbin holds his hands firmly, cradling his sorrow, lifting it just slightly, Hyunjin's breaths escaping easier and easier with each second spent interwoven with each other. "Especially when you've never known anything else. And...something like that...I'm not sure if you ever can let go. Not fully, at least."

Changbin looks out the window for a moment, Hyunjin locking each word and exhale deeply within his heart as he turns back to stare at him, eyes softening around the edges. "And...I don't think you should either. You can't just forget something like that, that would be an injustice to everything you've been through. To all the hurt, all the struggle, the survival. But maybe you can start looking at it differently...over time, with enough love and support."

Hyunjin's lower lip wobbles, a dark, velvety orange falling in rays all around them, the dust from the window lightening their welcome. "Look at it how?"

Changbin drags one of his hands to cup the side of his face, finger brushing gently against his cheek, nothing but love and emotion swirling within his eyes. Hyunjin tries, tries for one last moment to find the birth of a lie, a swell of insincerity throughout his gaze. He doesn't. Hyunjin already knew that he wouldn't.

"I think...instead of looking back being disgusted by yourself, I think you should look back being proud of everything you've accomplished despite your abuse. I mean, Hyunjin, you survived." Changbin smiles then, something like pride blooming along his lips. "You're still here."

Hyunjin casts a gaze down at his lap, fingers scraping along each other. "That's nothing."

"Yes, it is." Changbin tilts his head back up again, eyes shining with tears, voice wreathed with honesty. "Living is the hardest thing there is. I don't think you realize the extent of everything you went through I mean...ten years of sexual abuse with an emotionally abusive mother as well...ten years? Most people wouldn't survive that."

Changbin's fingers tighten against his face, as if the mere thought of letting go was too much to bear. "With poverty, neglect and no friends to add on...the fact that you're still here with so much love to give...Hyunjin, you're the most beautiful soul I've ever met. And the bravest." Changbin's eyes glisten with dripping wetness, Hyunjin weeping silent, relieving tears as Changbin wipes them away, voice dipping into a low, passionate whisper. "You should be proud of that. Not disgusted by it."

Hyunjin's lip quivers, arms falling around Changbin's neck as he buries his face onto his shoulder, Changbin squeezing him lovingly throughout his cries. Hyunjin doesn't know why he begins to weep, every crater, every wound within him throbbing from relief, sadness, love, that wretched paths all those years ago turning smaller and smaller with each breath he allows himself to spill, body trembling through the harrowing pain of simply being.

Changbin lessens his ache, does so quietly and without a second thought, pouring within him things Hyunjin had once thought to be non-existent; flimsy, unattainable works of fairytales.

Hyunjin nestles them all tightly into each empty, barren space of his bones, squeezing, nurturing, embracing them through that small, earth-stilling moment of time, the seconds stretching and stretching their way upon the rest of his life.

When Hyunjin pulls back, at last and with great difficulty, his smile carves itself with all the fluttery, aimless wings of the butterflies within him, echoing with pleasant noises as they reverberate throughout his chest.

Changbin beams at him, pulling him into a kiss as Hyunjin melts the rest of his inhibitions away, giving, giving, giving that cracked vessel of love which Changbin fosters so deeply.

The sky outside bleeds pearly, rose-colored drops as they lace themselves within the clouds. Hyunjin stares out at its vastness, the Grand Canyon so much larger, so much greater than the rest of them. Still Hyunjin feels it tiny compared to the growing pains that strum within him, head resting against Changbin's as the hues of tangerine glisten before them.

Hyunjin looks at it for a while, impressed, moved by its beauty and yet his sight struggles to stay still, turning around every so often to retrace the patterns of Changbin's face with the petals of his clover. One, two, three. Hyunjin doesn't mind counting as much then.

Changbin glances back at him, because of course he does, unable to help himself as a happy grin brushes against his face. Hyunjin reflects it easily, his sandstone heart falling into all the right places. Hyunjin's never been so sure of anything in his life.

Gently, he reaches up to touch the side of Changbin's face, grazing his fingertips through his hair, scraping softly at the expanse of his nape. Changbin's eyes follow his every movement as if looking away for even a second would pain him too greatly. Hyunjin smiles, something completing itself within him just like that.

"I've been thinking and...there's no need for me to go back home to a bunch of dead, empty space." Pain lingers all the same, born into the roots of his skin, cradled by his bones. "When I think of 'home' I think of you. And Jia." Still something changes, something else, something larger nestling its way in too. "I used to think taking a step like this would be scary but I've never been so certain of anything." It settles, making enough room, breathing out loudly through the darkness. A promise, a vow for it to stay. "Changbin, do you...do you want to move in together?"

Changbin's smile swoops its way into the air before Hyunjin gets the chance to react, lips stretching, stretching, stretching into an earth-shattering, eclipsing beam. He lifts him up easily, excitement zapping through his bones before settling him back down again, Hyunjin laughing as he kisses his face, each kiss sloppier and more eager than the last. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

Hyunjin grins as he loops his arms around his shoulders, Changbin's hands circling his waist, a deep, all-consuming sparkle lighting within him. "I can sell my apartment and you won't have to work nights anymore." A group of people laugh loudly in the distance, the sound pleasant, nice even as Hyunjin's smile expands. "We can use the money to...I don't know, take Jia to the beach or something."

"I would love that," Changbin says, eyes dancing with that same cluster of stars, dazzling, radiating its way right into his heart. "I can't think of anything better than to lift you up and toss you into the water."

Hyunjin swats his shoulder playfully, stomach falling into a lighthearted ease as the world ties itself whole around them. "Hey!"

Changbin only grins, face leaning closer to his as a fond, nearly tear-stricken expression encompasses him. "You've really thought about this, huh - our future?"

"Yes." In that very moment, for the rest of his life, he'll think of nothing else. He cracks a teasing smile, the sky lowering into a deep, springtime blush. "So I hope you're ready 'cause you're not getting rid of me now."

Changbin smirks easily, the crowns of the sun spilling softly behind him. "Baby I've been ready since day one."

Hyunjin kisses him then - short, sweet, something to repeat with the cries of his heart day after day, night after night. When he pulls away, he can feel the earth slip from his fingers, his eyes watchful, attentive as it lands somewhere in the distance.

He doesn't care then, what happens to it, that round pearl of copper and bruises nothing compared to the man before him, woven from the desert, painted new and alit from his love. Hyunjin could stare at him forever, he thinks, feel all the throes and pain of his clover and not falter his gaze an inch.

Changbin turns his head to the side, eyes cast upon the horizon out there in the distance, looming, supporting the canyons that echo up ahead. When he turns his way back around to look at him, Hyunjin feels his breath caught in the back of his throat, biding its time to spill out easily in the future.

"Do you wanna head back to the car or stay and watch the sunset?" He asks, a golden, uncatchable streak of honey threading its fingertips across his face.

"Watch the sunset," Hyunjin says. He doesn't need to think about it, doesn't need to think of most things then - what he'll do when he gets home, how he'll dream in new, vivid colors to awaken him with. Restless, crying throughout the night.

He knows Changbin will be there, holding him through it all, loving him despite the bruises that litter beneath his skin. He only wishes he could do the same for him, one day.

Then Changbin smiles, the corner of his lip tugging with it the rest of his face and somehow Hyunjin thinks he already has. "It'll be a while."

"That's okay." Hyunjin doesn't believe in rebirth, knows the rifts of his cocoon will create chips in his wings throughout the mornings yet to come no matter how vividly, how brightly they flutter. "I'm not in a rush."

"You're right." Yet something nice, something pleasant aches within them, their soft, breakable skin as they finally stretch out of the shadows landing upon the ground, waiting, biding their time until take off. Changbin turns to look at the horizon then, the butterfly floating somewhere nearby. "Some things are worth waiting for."

The sky paints the side of his face in hues he's never seen before; tumbling their way into his life. Their life, he thinks.

"Yeah." Hyunjin stares at him for too long, seconds away from missing the sunset. Changbin makes sure he doesn't, catching his gaze within his own, orange reflected within them as if containing the deepest, most golden root of the sun. Hyunjin smiles. "They are."

Notes:

Omg. The last chapter, I can’t believe it😓 This has been the longest story I’ve ever written, I poured my heart and soul into this and I just want to thank everyone who took the time and effort to read through it all because it means the absolute world to me. I know this fic is no small feat, long chapters, a winding storyline and with extremely heavy subjects - I can’t thank you all enough for reading my work and supporting me through it all.

It’s very weird that it’s come to an end, but I would like to share below a poem I wrote some years ago about the loss of innocence from which the titled of this story was inspired, if anyone should be interested💕

Once again thank you so much to everyone who read. If anyone resonates with any of the pain in this story - be it even of the slightest kind or a different source - I hope you can find some peace through immersing yourself in art or creating it like I have. Your pain is not about where it comes from, but how it carries in your soul.

I have thought about writing a continuation of this universe with Minho and Felix as the main characters, perhaps alternating each chapter from their POVs but I haven’t decided yet. If you’d like to read it, please tell me in the comments below but I have to warn that it would most likely take a long time before it’s completed as I have other stories currently in the works 💕

My poem for those who want to read it 🦋

 

Unclasped

 

Reach gently, the thistles cry,
Your grasps are oft unkind,
The capturing of a butterfly,
Is an art not acted blind

The creature flutters blithely,
Its wings of fern unclasping,
The gardens turn so lively,
A home now free for grasping,

The flowers they must ask you,
They really must now know,
Why take the sweet, shy butterfly
That gives the fields its glow?

Twitching, it must struggle
It wails out in muted pain
In the ail of your firm clutch,
It is soulless, becomes slain

Sore-hearted, sallow cheeks,
The weeps of Hebe resound,
For the capturing of a butterfly,
Is now an art abound

 

Thank you all and take care <3

twitter - @cornouillers

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Metamorphosis