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yeoldontknow · 7 years

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Equinox

Author’s Note: OKAY i know this wasnt meant to go up until some time next month, but i just woke up and felt this prompt down into my soul. ive been SO SOFT, thanks to a mercury in retrograde. so i worked on it today and now im deceased because i love it a lot. as usual, my snapshot style doesnt really lend itself to whole world building. so OP i hope this makes you happy!

Pairing: Minseok x Reader (oc; female)

Summary: It’s winter when you stumble into Minseok’s coffee shop, winter when he’s cold, unfeeling, and disheartened with the seasons. Little does he know, you are the winds of change.

Rating: PG-13

Warning: implied sex

Word Count: 2,247

WINTER

The day he met you was the day she left.

He was awake when it happened, the slow gathering of her things into one small duffel and the calm, empty declaration that she would come back later for the rest. The motivation to move eluded him, his muscles opposed to following her, reaching for her, calling out to her in a reckless sort of indignation. It wasn’t that he was angry, wasn’t that he was caught in despair, rather that he couldn’t find it in him to care. Not really, not after everything had been said and felt into ash.

She did not take his heart with her. No, he’d retrieved that long ago somewhere in the changing of the seasons. What she took instead was his empathy, his willingness to give love freely. With her, it had died, withered over the course of many years until all he had was an apathetic sort of affection, the kind he said with words he didn’t mean.

Long after she was gone, when the grey light of the morning spilled through the curtains of his window, he sat upright on his bed and regarded the way the room remained unchanged. As if she had gone on vacation. As if she had gone to visit family. As if she would return. He glanced sidelong at his disenchanted life with a scowl, waiting for colour to return to the walls, the room, his heart, his life. Winter was like that, he supposed, a succubus both of good intentions and the gold of the sun.

A cold rain had spilled over the city, frigid in its intent to cleanse the street, his shop, his memory, perhaps even his heart. The storm looked as he felt, bitter in its deluge and bleak in its sentiments. People bustled in and out, grim and scowling, shaking the rain from their hair and hats, gloved hands clutching warm drinks and placing tips in the jar as thanks. The world was moving and turning, but his world was stopping.

You pushed through the door with a laugh, even though you were alone. Melodic and gleeful, you stumbled through with a light that made him feel as though he was eclipsing the sun. It wasn’t that you blinded him, it was simply that you warmed him, touched something inside him that felt dusty and untouched with your smile. It wasn’t that you blinded him, it was simply that you moved him, however insignificant it had been at the start.

When you ordered your coffee, you told him a lot of things: you told him you were lucky to have found his shop, you told him you were new to the city, you told him you weren’t used to rain in winter. You told him a lot of things but he told you nothing, simply nodded and watched the way you eyed the croissants with a passionate sort of stare. He gave you one for free, though, even now, he is unsure why.

What he remembers most clearly, though, was your yellow hat. Truthfully, it told him more about you than any of the words you had given him. It told him that you rejected black as a winter shade, defying all the rules of the season as though they didn’t pertain to you. It told him that you would stand out in a crowd, easy for him to find and easy for him to see, yet, somehow, you had found him first. It told him that luck came in many shapes and sizes, and on that day, it came in the form of a smile.

On you, he decided, winter didn’t look right. It tried to move around you, bend you, and change you, but you were steadfast in your refusal to succumb to the gloom. On you, winter didn’t look right, and so gave you a star in the foam of your coffee instead of the seasonal snowflake. And the look you gave him when you saw it, the way your mouth pulled into a wide, cheshire cat grin, kept his insides warm well past the melting of the last flake on the earth.

SPRING

The trees were restless in their anticipation of and desire to bloom, similar to the way he had grown restless in his anticipation of seeing you. It took him a week to ask for your name, three realize that yellow hat was a staple of your wardrobe, and only two days for the hope you would become a regular customer to blossom in his chest like a sunflower.

The playfulness in his tone was half serious, perhaps mostly serious, when he asked if you kept coming back to see him. The playfulness in yours was absent when you said you did. That was his Valentine’s gift, two words and a fistful of implication. He clung to it past the Ides of March, too nervous to test the waters again, but when you came through the shop at the start of April, tights and a skirt and the freedom of your skin beneath the spring sun, he stopped thinking of you has a lucky star and more as a beacon.

You never ordered the same thing twice, spent weeks working your way through the menu, and he spent lonely nights coming up with new blends and flavors just for you. He said you were off the menu, and you said it was an odd nickname but you liked it, took ownership of it the way one takes ownership of their dreams. There was no way you could know truly unexpected you were, unpredictable and unplanned, and wholly surprising. There was no way you could know that your ease into the name turned you from someone special into someone remarkable.

He thought you were brave, then, in all the ways he wasn’t. Wild, free, alive.

You never ordered the same thing twice and every week, tucked tightly beneath your arm was a different book. One week was Hemmingway and another was Danielewski, your mind moving between eras and genres as if time was your plaything. Most would be impressed, many would be surprised, but he expected it of you. The laws of the universe were blown apart by you, your uninhibited originality turning them to dust at your feet.

You never ordered the same thing twice and every week had a different book beneath your arm, so when he questioned what your favourite was, for both the book and the coffee, he thought for sure you’d have an answer or an opinion. You did, but your even diplomacy, kind eyes and your soft tongue, made his heart stutter in its rhythm.

How could I choose, you asked, when every work of art is perfect?

With a laugh, he told you to remain subjective, and you said you were, that it was unfair to judge a thing that bent to subjective will. For hours - hours alone and hours in bed - he thought about that, thought about you and what it meant to be perfect, subjective, and inspiring. Days later, he would work up the courage to ask if you thought he was perfect based on your prior argument.

You said he was.

Days after that, he asked if you thought you were perfect. You bit your lip for a long while in thought, remaining humble while also too wise for your young years. Finally, you said, someone must think so. There was a knowing look to your gaze, a fire deep within your irises that emboldened him.

Instead of your name on the cup, he wrote his number.

Instead of a flower in the foam, he made a heart.

SUMMER

Hand holding in the heat of July always made him uncomfortable, made his skin sweat and slick with too many things that were beyond his control. Always, he would pull away with a shake of his fingers, wiping away the sweat, the person, the sensation of being swollen with purpose from his joints. Always, he would say, I know you are mine and affection can wait until we are not damp with the fever. He would never clarify which heat he meant, the weather or his wanting. He never wanted his partner to feel let down.

With you, it was different. It isn’t that he expected it to be, or even wanted it to be - he had grown into notions of romance, unchanged and unmoved in his age based on the ideas of what he liked, what he wanted, and what he had experienced. The same way you broke the laws of the universe, you broke all the laws he had set for himself.

On your first date, he wanted to kiss you, and you let him. You surrendered to it first with your heart, and then with your mouth, and he swallowed all of it whole.

On the first day of the summer heatwave, he had reached for your hand and shivered the feel of your wet skin. It brought him back to the day you first met, your hand cooling him and pouring over him like a storm.

In the sweltering humidity of July, he layed with you on a blanket and told you he loved you, loved all the parts of you he knew and had yet to discover. The secret parts, he said, were the most exciting and the most beautiful.

In the sweltering humidity of July, you told him you loved him too.

That night, his air conditioner broke. It rumbled to a halt and let the evening sun pour into the bedroom, turning the walls into a greenhouse that blossomed with orange, red, and devotion. He thought of it that way, as he made love to you, sweating into the sheets as he held your hand, tasted your skin, licked the perspiration from your brow. He thought of it that way, as he moved within you and let you move within him, filling all the empty parts of him that had been temporarily sealed until he could feel again. Until he could feel you.

Hand holding in the heat of July made him uncomfortable, but with you, he didn’t think there was ever a time when he’d get enough of your skin. It wasn’t that he wanted to hold your hand, he wanted to hold all of you, completely, with all of him until there was no way to tell where he ended and you began.

Some time in May you stopped ordering hot coffee, switching instead to iced drinks, drinks in which he couldn’t leave images in the foam.

Not that it mattered. He’d started leaving marks of his love on your skin well before the season, and those were far less transient.

AUTUMN

Autumn was unprecedented, simply because you were in it. True, it was always his favourite and always took him by surprise, how brilliant the world became, but watching you move through the death of the world made him start to believe in magic. He’d spent seasons with you thinking this was it, that there was no way he could love you any more than he already did. That there was no way you could look better in a season than the one that came before it. But always, you did.

Always, you did.

Two weeks into October, he decided that Autumn looked best on you, your hair, your skin, your lips. Still, the yellow had remained but it made all the world around you gold. Brown didn’t exist in this new world, instead you turned it burgundy, plum, and bronze. For him you made the world into all the best shades, made apples more crimson, made the night more purple than black. That was the trick, he thought, your magic was the slow making and taking of the world, the giving of life and the taking away to leave behind something more profound, something more desirable in its wake.

Cinnamon was how he came to describe the season, the smell of it in the air as you baked and the taste of it on your skin as he kissed you, hungry for the light that splayed across your shoulders, your back, your neck. Cinnamon was what he started to call you, changing your name each season to match your whim. It lingered in his bones, even when the cold wind threatened to steal it from his tongue. It lingered in his heart, even when the days grew shorter and the frost grew stronger.

He started brewing his coffee with cinnamon, feasting on you even when you weren’t there, gone from him to move throughout your day, until he could have you at night. As a consequence, the shop smelled like you, long into the day, until the first customers of the evening rush arrived. Drunk on the memory you, he would serve and laugh easier, smile brighter, feel more like the man he left behind in winter.

Always, you would come to him before the end of his shift, making you the last coffee he would serve.

Always, you would order something different, something to keep him on his toes.

Always he made you a snowflake in the foam, his way of letting you know he was ready. Ready to see what you could make of destruction. Ready to see how you would make a rainbow of the white.

Always, you were the changing tide of the seasons of his heart.

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baekluvie · 3 years

Text

obsession | chapter 4

pairing: reader x baekhyun

words: 10k+

genre: yandere au | this is heavily inspired by the show 'you'

tag list: @mayboy @vishary15 @greasywall @loversmantra @cityexos @kavvs

warnings for this chapter: mention of murder, murder, mental illness(s), mention of death(s), manipulation, mature language, violence, obsessiveness, aggression, suicide.

do not read if: you are triggered by any of the warnings i listed prior. this fic will contain this theme throughout the chapters. if you are not comfortable with that; please skip this post. please remember this is a work of fiction.

viewer discretion is advised

playlist for this chapter:

love taste - baekhyun pov

knee caps - baekhyun pov

creep - baekhyun pov

pacify her - y/n pov

(a/n) im so happy with how this turned out. and i hope you guys do too. sorry for the long wait. also yes- there is only one pov for this chapter. it won't stay like this. like always replies are open. please send me messages, requests, your thoughts! always appreciated! reblog and like as it really helps me out. enjoy this chapter!

Baekhyun’s POV

hey don’t worry about texting back fast i just had a question-

No.

how are you? did you sleep well? you didn’t throw up right?-

No.

i love you so much, i want to be buried in your skin. i think about you all the time and i can’t stop.

Baekhyun sighs as he retracts his last text to you. This was hard. Putting a whole act on just so he could be with you. He wished that you would just fall in love with him just as easily as he did with you. He rises from his desk, lumbering his phone in his hand as he makes his way to his bathroom.

As he flicked on the lights, he intensely peered at himself in the mirror. He was growing some stubble on his chin, frowning, he brushed his hand over it. He hated facial hair, especially on him. He had a youthful, pretty face, there wasn’t any need to grow it. His features were perfect, clear pale skin with a rosy hue to his full lips. He liked his moles too; they were like pretty little stars sprinkled here and there. He removes his hand from his chin, admiring himself some more.

His black hair was flat, it didn’t have much volume. As he bundles a fragment of it with his hand, he attempts to floof it up, add some texture to it. The mirror version of him frowned, obviously not satisfied with the results. He looked down at his phone, an idea popping into his head. He searched up hair salons nearby, not noticing that he was biting on his fingernail. His finger pauses over one location, it had good reviews, they specialized in coloring. Hm. Baekhyun never thought about dying his hair, he preferred his dark locks, thought it made him look more natural. He debates over it for a moment.

Baekhyun doesn’t like unwanted touching, that’s why he enjoys cutting his hair himself. People didn’t deserve to be close to him like that; his body was a temple after all. Anyone but you were not allowed to enter it. But this could be a good change, maybe you would like it. And if he was going to plan a date with you, he wanted to make sure that his looks were up to the best of standards.

Change.

That annoying word that was embedded in his thoughts for the past couple of days. He didn’t think he was capable of it, in fact he didn’t think that there was anything needing to change in the first place. Sure, he’s a bloodthirsty murderer who kills people whenever he pleases, but hey, who doesn’t get a little angry sometimes? He snaps out of his train of thought when his phone buzzes lightly in his hand.

this is baekhyun, right? it’s y/n.

It’s you. Baekhyun nearly fumbles his phone in his grasp, a sudden sweat washing over him. He sinks down to sit on his bathroom floor, his back laying against the wall as he reads over the text you sent him over and over. You texted him first; that was a good sign. He’d take it.

this is he. i’m surprised you texted me first. i’m supposed to do that >:(

He waits, his body shaking with excitement. Somehow you made him feel like a little kid again, Y/N. Every moment he spent with you, whether it was virtually or physically, he will always become the happiest person in the world. He eyes the dots dancing on his screen, imagining you’re just as nervous and excited as he is right now.

haha, i beat you to it. get used to having a woman take charge >:)

Oh, Baekhyun will definitely get used to that. He tries to ignore the growing tent in his sweats, licking over his lips as he quickly texts you back.

i don’t mind that. i’ve been thinking about what we should do for our date.

A second passes, you respond.

i was just thinking about that too. :) what did you have planned, mr.perfume boy?

In all honesty, Baekhyun has racked through his brain thinking of the perfect date all morning, his indecisiveness getting in the way of picking someplace to go to. His immediate thought was a nice dinner, maybe they’d take a stroll in the park after. But no, you’d get cold. The second choice was the amusement park. The colorful lights, the innocent atmosphere could cheer you up. But Baekhyun hates roller coasters, and doesn't like touching railings or handlebars. They’re disgusting and don’t ever get cleaned. Until finally…he got it.

i want you to come over. i’ll cook us dinner and we can buy a movie of your choosing.

He knew you; you liked simplicity and not going over the top. Although your choices of decor were…brash, right now you didn’t need to be wooed by an extravagant, fancy dinner. You also didn’t need to be around people too, and maybe Baekhyun just didn’t want men staring at you. You would like this, you would appreciate him for thinking about you in such a dire time.

that actually sounds…perfect. when are we doing this???

Well obviously today, Y/N. He couldn’t stand being away from you, especially this long, especially after being around you, feeling your lips on his. You feel the same way too, don’t lie to yourself. You liked him, Y/N. You like his teasing, the sweet smiles and staring. You savored it, you loved the feeling of being taken care of. This was all part of the manipulation. He smirked as his fingers dashed on his screen.

tonight, duh. i’ll pick you up around 8. i’ll have a surprise for you. :)

So he decided to schedule the appointment. Who knows? Maybe it won’t be such a bad experience letting someone take care of him for once. He waits as the phone rings, thumping his foot on his bathroom floor.

“Hello, this is Yoo Salon. How can I help you?”

He fidgets a bit. “I uh- I wanted to schedule a hair appointment. I’d like to dye my hair?”

“Of course. Do you have someone you’d prefer?”

He snorts. “I’ve never been there before. This is my first time going to a salon in years.”

“Sure. So it doesn’t matter who I get you in with?”

“Not at all. I just need it done before 8 o’clock.”

“Well… we’ll see. Can I ask what color you’d like done?”

Baekhyun ponders on it for a moment. He snaps his fingers, his lips pushed together in a pout.

“I want something different. Ah, something that will make me stand out.”

“Platinum is quite popular these days, sir.”

Hm. “Platinum it is then.”

He shouldn’t have done this. No, he really shouldn’t have. Do you know why, Y/N? Because this bitch won’t stop flirting with him, and although she is somewhat decent, Baekhyun has no intention of playing it up for her. You are the only one that matters, and this bitch with pink hair isn’t getting the point at all.

She finishes putting the toil in his hair, and Baekhyun scrolls mindlessly on his phone. Really all he does is look through the same conversation you had earlier, he thought his hairdresser would get the idea that he’s a taken man. But yet, she proves him wrong once again.

She stands behind him, smirking at him in the mirror that’s placed in front of him.

“You know, so many girls are going to think you’re cute with this color.”

He raises his eyebrows, laying his phone in his lap.

“Yeah? Well I’m not interested in girls.”

“Oh? Men?”

He sighs exasperatedly.

“I’m interested in women.”

She pouts, and Baekhyun is disgusted. Her foundation is two shades too dark, and she chose to wear a bright pink lipstick; matching the dreadful dried out hair of hers.

“Oh come on,” She places a hand on his chest, “You don’t want a different taste?”

He bats her hand away, he almost, almost, wants to strangle her right now. But he takes a deep breath and smiles.

“I’m taken. Now can you make yourself useful and do my hair?”

She blinks, a stunned expression pops up.

“Y-yes. Well at this rate, your hair lifted well. Give it 5 minutes and I’ll come back to finish up.”

He opens his phone up again, not saying a word. He could see her in the corner of his eye, her stumbling hands searching through her tools. She was nervous. She should be.

“Can I ask what you do for work, sir?”

She asks softly this time, not in the loud and obnoxious tone she had previously.

“I work in the fragrance business. Why?” He tilts his head, his eyes piercing through her.

She blushes. “You look like someone famous.”

If there is anything that Baekhyun loves more than you, it’s attention. So he changes his mood a bit, a mischievous smile etching onto his features. He taps his phone case with his nail.

“Do I now? Have you heard of Prive?”

The hairdresser drops the brush she’s holding, her hand immediately covering her mouth.

“O- Oh my god. You’re Byun Baekhyun. I love your perfume line!”

He winces.

“Don’t call me by my family name. Baekhyun is fine.”

He waves her off, but he thrives off of compliments and being recognized. It made him feel superior, powerful. If he were to get everyone’s salary here, and see what they make in total after a year; they still wouldn't be anywhere close to what he makes in a week alone. It’s something he prides himself in; the luxurious clothing, colognes and perfumes, the lifestyle. He was fucking rich. He couldn’t wait to spoil you and buy you anything that you wanted. That’s the dream for him. To live a happy, wealthy life with you; see you smile at jewelry he buys and trips he’ll plan. He smiles to himself as he thinks about it, the woman becoming shy all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry Ba- Baekhyun. Please excuse me for a moment.”

He gives her a questiongly look, but instead goes back to rummage through some Youtube videos. It wasn’t even a couple minutes into the game review he was watching until he noticed the pink haired woman was making it completely obvious she was gossiping to her co-workers. He frowned.

Like Baekhyun stated before, he loved the overwhelming adoration and swooning over him, but when it came to people eye fucking him and oogling him; when he already fucking told her he was taken, well. It would make any person mad. The thoughts of her neck being snapped and watching her take a last breath resonated in his head, his fingers started to twitch ever so slightly over his phone. So he raises his finger at her, curving it inward, motioning for her to come over. She immediately widens her eyes, scurrying off from her friends who were all smiling at him.

She places her hands on the back of his chair, her hazel eyes darting from his phone to his hair.

“Yes?”

He chuckles, covering his mouth with his hand. He rolls his eyes, licking his lips as he looks at her.

“Can I ask you something… what’s your name?”

She gulps.

“Eunbi.”

“Eunbi, that’s a pretty name. Is my hair ready yet?”

Eunbi peeks through the foil, and Baekhyun can catch a glimpse of the new shade of white.

“Actually…yes. Let me rinse this out and I can touch anything else up.”

He shakes his head, turning his body to face her. Her cheeks began to turn a nice shade of red.

“I have another question for you Eunbi.”

Eunbi nervously smiles.

“Y-yes?”

“Do you mind giving me your card? I’d like to have you as my hairdresser again.”

“Me? Really? I- of course! That’s not a problem!”

The radiating happiness emitting from her deflected straight off of Baekhyun, the fake smile he plastered on his face just shining through his disgust. He tips his head down as he takes the card from her, purposely letting his fingers linger on hers, catching onto the shyness that’s painted in her eyes. She’s so dumb, and so very careless. He couldn’t wait to kill her. He places the card in the front pocket of his black coat.

It didn’t take too much longer for her to finish, her carefully washing his hair and the occasional lip bite in his direction. He had to say…even though she was a stupid cunt, she did a pretty great job. There were still parts that were darker, but the overall job was executed perfectly. He checks himself out for a moment when she takes off his apron, dusting it out behind the chair.

He stands up, letting a small cough out. “Ah, thank you so much, Eunbi.”

Eunbi bows, a small giggle slipping past her lips.

“Thank you for allowing me to do your hair, Baekhyn. Please- call me.”

She winks, and Baekhyun resists the urge to throw up. Instead he gives her a tight knitted smile and a nod. As he walks away to get to the front desk and pay, he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He snaps his head to the side in frustration, the anger rising in him. He swiftly turns around, giving her a sweet smirk.

“Yes?”

Eunbi fidgets with her fingers. “I- I think you’re really handsome. Please give me a chance.”

He blinks in confusion. Then, he scoffs as he looks off to the side.

“Would you do something for me?”

“A-anything.”

He places his hand under her chin, moving his head forward opposite of her ear as he whispers,

“Be a good girl and don’t be so needy.”

He pushes her face to the side harshly, his teeth grinding together. She doesn’t say anything else, just peering at him with tear filled eyes. He rolls his own, trying to cover up the sarcastic laugh that’s crawling up his throat. It wasn’t like Baekhyun wasn’t used to women flirting with him, trying to sleep with him. But when he’s a taken man, he doesn’t want to entertain anybody’s fantasies and hopes that he’ll give them a chance. He was repulsed when his friends or acquaintances would ever so easily sleep with any woman that flung themselves onto them. Baekhyun was a gentleman after all; he believed in having one person and that was it. Perverted thoughts, looking at porn, speaking to other people when you were with someone was cheating. Call him old fashioned but that was the way he liked it.

Baekhyun finished up paying for the appointment, the receptionist smiling brightly at him before he gave his thanks. He gave Eunbi one last glance as she was sweeping up her area; he just wanted to remember how stupid she looked right now. Because soon, she would be dead, suffocated and betrayed by the blood that pumped life into her. He chuckles as he pushes the glass doors in front him, exiting the building.

He grunts as he enters his car, pulling out his phone from his front pocket. The business card he received from the woman slightly poked out, and he pushed it back into place. He checked the progress on the meal that he purchased for the both of you from the restaurant he took Mina to not too long ago. Because yes, he promised he’d cook, but he didn’t trust himself enough to make it himself. He wanted everything to be perfect, because that’s all you deserve. Plus, he didn’t mind spending a grand on this; it would be worth it. It wouldn’t hurt if you thought he was an amazing cook, better than Kyungsoo.

Ding!

He eyes flash to a notification on the top of his screen;

Jihyo, you placed an order for takeout! Estimated time of arrival: 9:00.

Oh yeah, he forgot about that. He managed to tap into her phone easily. The problem he was facing however, was that it was 7:30. And he made plans to pick you up around 8. So you could probably understand how this was slowly turning into a troublesome scenario for Baekhyun. He bit his lip as he threw his head back against his headrest, looking at the gray interior of his car.

“I can just say…” He drums his finger on the dashboard, “I forgot something.”

He wanted to kill her as soon as possible, and it doesn’t help that it had to happen tonight. The longer the bitch was alive, the more pain it caused you, Y/N. You wouldn’t say it, but Baekhyun knew that’s how it was. He wouldn’t be able to live, no, he would rather die if the person who cheated with his significant other was living their life happily and without a care in the world. That’s why you had him, Y/N. He would deal with it, he would do the thing you wouldn’t do.

He’s going to kill her and savor the image of her last, dying breath.

Baekhyun had finished setting up the dinner plates and placing the expensive food in their designated places. He poured wine into two glasses, red, because he preferred the dark and sweet flavor. It also reminded him of the satisfying and beautiful shade of blood. He was…nervous. Driving to your home was extremely difficult for some reason, his heart beating against his rib cage and the shallow breaths he pushed out from his tightening throat. He’s never felt like this before, Y/N. Only you could make him react like this, make him feel normal about first date jitters.

Sure, he’s had to play it up for you, manipulate you, pretend he wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer. But Y/N, you made him feel like a human being. He wasn’t just someone who kills because of important reasons, not someone who would die for you, not someone who was obsessed with you. You looked past those things, even if you didn’t know about it. You saw him as an innocent, caring, nurturing man. Maybe his mother was right, he was changing. Just maybe, he wasn’t a monster.

Monsters don’t kill out of love, after all.

He shakily grabs the bouquet of roses he bought for you from out of the passenger seat, looking at himself in the rearview mirror. He decided to keep on the black coat, a black button up with white polka-dots splashed on it, and simple black slacks. His platinum hair was combed back, some strands falling on his forehead. He looked good. He gives himself a small, ‘fighting’, and exits out of his vehicle.

He wondered what you were wearing as he walked up the steps to your nimble apartment, would you go all out for him? Just like he did for you? Of course you would, you were in love with him after all, why wouldn’t you try and impress him? He pauses before he knocks on your door, afraid of what will eventually transpire between the two of you. Would you end up not sharing the same emotions he had for you? There was no reason why you wouldn’t; after all you ended up kissing him. Even if you were drunk, that still meant something. It had to.

So he finally knocks. He takes a step back, looking down at his outfit. He almost didn’t want to look you in the eyes, too afraid if you didn’t like any of this. The flowers, the new hair. As he tries to regain his breath, you swing open the door. And wow, Y/N. You…you are beautiful.

You had on a white satin dress that stopped before your knees. It almost looked like a shade of luminescent pearl, the way it had a subtle glow to it. You accompanied the dress with white stiletto pumps, nothing too fancy, it had a short heel. Your hair was slightly curled, falling effortlessly past your shoulders. And then your face. Light makeup, you didn’t need it anyways, but Baekhyun knew that you wanted to feel prettier. Just as he’s about to say something, he stops.

Your lips. He knew that shade. The…brand.

Chanel Red Lipstick.

“Baekhyun?”

He dizzily snaps out of it, trying to take his attention off of the abomination that stained your lips.

Baekhyun smiles at you, raising the bouquet forward. You let out a small chirp, your eyes aglow.

“You look…amazing. I- wow. You really had to outdo me, huh?”

You laughed as you gripped the flowers close to your chest, your cheeks beginning to burn pink.

“I can look good when I put in the effort. It was hard but…I was excited to see you. But look at you,” You reach forward to touch his hair, and Baekhyun takes the chance to inhale your scent, “Your hair is different.”

His eyes glimmer with curiosity.

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

You purse your lips, your eyebrows furrowing together as you drop your hand.

“No, I hate it.”

He doesn’t know what to do other than gape. But then you hit him playfully on his arm, laughing.

“Of course I like it. I think you look really…handsome.”

The last word comes out strained, and he can see that you’re thinking of something else, maybe, someone else. He takes this moment to erase those thoughts by reaching his hand out to you, bowing his head to the ground and letting a light hearted laugh out.

“Will you accompany me to my house?”

He feels your soft skin touch his, the familiar and intoxicating sensation that burns through his entire body. This is it. This date, this was going to be the story that he would tell his children about. He can picture it already, two bubbly, beautiful kids sitting next to him and you, their curiosity of how their parents met; the heart of the conversation. He’d bring you closer to his side, slightly tickling you to hear the melody-like sound that is your laughter, and he’d look adoringly at what the two of you made, together, and talk to them about your first date. How he swooned you with his amazing cooking skills, how nervous he was before he knocked on your door, how entranced he was when he saw you like this for the first time.

“Of course, Baekhyun. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

He smiles at you as he raises his head, ushering you to come outside with him.

“You won’t need anyone else when you have me.”

“Is that a threat or something?” You say sheepishly as you lock the door behind you.

He squishes his lips together to form a pout.

“It’s a promise.”

You falter for a second as you adjust your dress, the flowers cradled into the nook of your arm.

“You…you can’t break a promise, okay? You promise?”

Baekhyun simply looks at you, his demeanor changing into something more serious. He places both of his hands on each of your arms gently, lightly pushing into your glass-like skin.

“You won’t ever have to worry about me breaking a promise,” He takes a step down the stairs, “I’ll prove it to you tonight. I’m nothing like what you’ve experienced, Y/N. Trust me.”

You look like you’re debating in your head, your eyes never leaving his. He stands there waiting, and for a second he’s afraid you’re going to run back inside, too scared for this, for him. But then you quickly shake your head, brushing your hair back behind your ear. You nod cutely, linking your arm with his. He hides the sharp breath he had concealed for a moment and leads you down the staircase. He opens the side door for you, his eyes never tearing away from the enchanting view that was you.

It was nice having you with him, Y/N. He can’t remember the last time he enjoyed a conversation like this, a conversation that wasn’t filled with bickering and artificial compliments. You had a way with words, the way it flowed smoothly. He imagined your voice like honey, soft and sweet, dripping slowly but gracefully. It was almost poetic, the tone you displayed with each word. He stopped at a red light and out of habit looked in the mirror, making sure nothing was out of place. You snicker, and he turns his head to you.

“What?” He asks shyly.

You look down at your shoes, a toothy grin pops out.

“It’s just that you’re really cute. Checking yourself out and stuff. Kyungsoo- um, I mean…he never cared about his looks when he was around me. I didn’t think you would be so attentive about it. You know you’re effortlessly attractive right? Don’t be so nervous around me. I wouldn’t care if you showed up in battered clothes.”

Baekhyun’s heart skips a beat.

“You’re too sweet. You’re making my heart flutter. I’m supposed to be doing that to you.”

He shakes his head and grins, pressing on the gas as the light turns green. He hears you hum quietly, and during that, he steals a side eye glance at you. He’s been trying to ignore it this entire time, but… the lipstick. He doesn’t want to ask you, doesn’t want to hear that he was right. That it’s the Chanel lipstick that he forced Mina to never wear around him, to scrub it off with those chemical infused makeup wipes. You pulled it off, so much more than that whore ever did. But in the back of his head he can’t shake the unnerving thought that it’s okay. It’s not okay. So why was he trying to convince himself that it is?

As they finally reach his apartment, you give him a small grin, but your eyes say something else.

He leads as you follow behind him, not saying a word. He becomes worried, was his place not what you had expected, Y/N? It was hidden away, in a remote area. He chose it mostly because he liked being isolated from people, and didn't want to bother with neighbors if things ever got out of hand with previous lovers. He reaches in his pocket to fish out his keys, but he has to know what’s on your mind. You were standing there quietly, your bubbly and charming self that was in the car had seemed to disappear.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He stands in front of you, letting the keys dangle against his leg.

You look around him, your attention gravitating to the garden of flowers that’s proudly displayed before the entrance. Again, you look around, your eyes dancing to the staircase that leads to the second story of his apartment. You look back at him, your mouth dropping every second.

“This…this isn’t an apartment. You live in a fucking mansion, Baekhyun.”

He turns around to look at his home. Sure, it was bigger than most apartments. But that’s what the tenant said it was. It was a two story building, a staircase outside that went to his office workspace, the garage underneath held two parking spaces, for his other two vehicles. He didn’t have any people that lived within the building, it was all for him. But to Baekhyun, this was small. It was a simple, normal apartment. He never thought of it as luxurious in any way, mostly because he’s owned mansions in the past. He decided to move here because it was quaint. It didn’t draw a lot of attention. It also didn’t have any other houses or apartments near it, he requested a location that was away from most civilization.

“This? No way. You should have seen my other homes. This is nothing.”

You stutter, your heels clacking on the cement nervously.

“You- I guess I underestimated how much money you have. You’re like in the middle of nowhere.”

He shrugs as he flashes you a smile, pushing his key into the lock.

“I don’t like to talk about it. I’m a very humble person.”

You snort as you follow him inside of his place.

“You’re not going to kill me or something right? Taking me out where there’s no one around.”

He freezes in his steps, and then swerves his body to face you.

“The truth is I’m a murderer.”

Silence.

He breaks it by chuckling, your facial features twitching between a smile and a frown.

“A joke. Come on, where’s your sense of humor?”

You laugh awkwardly.

“R-right. You had me there for a second. Totally believed you.”

He could hear the relief in your voice. He pushes away the nerves that were bundling in his chest after noticing it, and instead grabs your hand to lead you to his living room. Baekhyun really outdone himself here. He lit small tealight candles and placed them on the glass table that was in the middle of the spacious room, the plates sat around them. The glasses were perfectly set, and the lights were dimmed. He doesn’t miss the small gasp from you, his ego starting to inflate. This was what you needed, Y/N. You needed him to remind you of your worth, and he swears that he’ll always be doing these types of things for you from now on. Seeing the expression on your face was enough to drive him crazy, leave him wanting to know how you would react to the expensive gifts and trips he would do for you. He wanted you to love him. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you-

“Do you like it?” Baekhyun silences his thoughts.

You stare at him, your lip trembling. You place the bouquet on the black couch, then you make your way to him, a slight hurry in your steps. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close. He could replay this moment forever, Y/N. Your perfume ringing in his nostrils, the way your hands fit perfectly around the round of his neck, the undenying love that you had seeping out of you for him. You were falling; so quickly, and he wasn’t prepared for you to do it so easily, so beautifully. You would be like him, obsessed.

“I love it.” You sniffle into his left shoulder. He feels your throat bob up and down against him, trying not to cry. He simply rests his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes as he takes you in. He wraps his arms around your waist, tightening his grip on you.

“You deserve this.” He whispers against her neck.

She pulls back, and he watches as the foundation melts away from the tears trailing down your cheek. He brushes his thumb to stop the upcoming tears from falling, smiling at you. You laugh softly, your hand stopping on the front of his chest pocket. Suddenly, you pause, and Baekhyun looks down, confused.

“What’s this?” The paper that was still in his pocket was peeking out, and he chuckled as he pulls it out to show you.

“It’s kind of a funny story. My hairdresser was so adamant on giving me her number so I just took it out of pity. It’s just her business card, but I was going to throw it away.” He lies.

Something flashes in your eyes, and Baekhyun, for the first time, doesn’t know what it was. You drop your hands from him, a look of hurt splashing amongst your features. He falters.

“You’re not just using me right? Because it took alot for me to do this a-and-”

He comforts you by shushing you, throwing the card on the ground and cupping your cheeks.

“I would never- do that to you. You’re important to me, Y/N. Don’t ever- say that.”

The tears that once displayed a sign of happiness were shadowed by tears of sadness. You purse your lips, your gaze searching for something else, someplace other than him. He can’t have that. You can only look at him, you don’t have to be afraid of him hurting you, Y/N. Your eyes belonged to him, they were reserved only for him. He snaps you out of it by shaking you lightly in his grasp. You hiccup, your eyes filled with confusion.

“Do you understand me? I’m not like him. I will never be like him. You have me, only me.”

“I…I’m scared Baekhyun.”

He pauses, letting his hands release from you. You stare at him numbly. He sighs.

“Scared of what?”

“I’m scared of losing you. I know that we just met but,” You run a hand through your hair as you step off to the side, your voice reaching a higher frequency, “you’re the only person that’s been there for me; that understands me. I don’t want to scare you off or anything but why…why am I so attached to you? I don’t know why. Am I crazy? Do you think I’m crazy?”

You were shouting now, looking at him with a crazed expression, and Baekhyun…he loved it. Because this, this, Y/N, this is what he’s been feeling and knowing for a while now. It was refreshing to see it in someone else rather than himself, and it was so fucking lovely. He loved seeing you strung out like this, coming to terms with the infatuation that he knew you had for him. The worry and fear of not wanting to be without him, the creeping and haunting obsession that is love, that terrorized you, the obsession that he created in you. Sweet and unsuspecting manipulation that played to you like a symphony, that he orchestrated with his charm and innocent facade. So he doesn’t want to calm you down right now, the mess that you are. But he knows that he has to in order for you to become accustomed to your newfound feelings.

He rushes over to you, shaking his head and smiling. You look at him exasperated, short breaths that are coming out too quickly, the signs of a panic attack. He holds your hands in his his, and you look down at the intertwined flesh, your cries starting to slow down.

Baekhyun attempts to hide the growing excitement in his voice when he speaks.

“You’re not crazy. I understand you. It’s okay. I will never abandon you, Y/N. You’re so much stronger for admitting this to me. I’m not scared of this, of what we have. It’s fucking real. It’s more real than you’ll ever know. So when I tell you to trust me, I want you to trust me. Can you be good and believe that, Y/N?”

Your words come out as a whisper.

“I trust you.”

He tightens his lips together as he grazes his finger on your lip, smudging the red down your lip.

“Do you want to be with me?”

You look up at him with big eyes, your features softening.

“I- I do. But I want to take things slow.”

He nods.

“We can take it slow. We’ll go at your own pace.”

You shy away from him now, a flush of embarrassment spreading over your face.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me-”

He moves his hand swiftly to your waist and pushes you against the wall. You let out a small yelp, not expecting the sudden closeness between you and him. He looks at your hair, combing a strand that stuck to your wet eyelashes. He focuses back on you, his heart beating fast.

“Don’t apologize for that. I needed to hear that. I was so lost until I met you.”

You suck in a breath, your eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“I feel like I’ve been lost too.”

He flattens his hand that was formed as a fist against the wall, licking his lips.

“You’re going to be mine, do you know that?”

“Am I?”

“We don’t deserve to be alone. We deserve this; me and you. We’re deserving of the chance for happiness. Don’t you see? We’ve only been thinking of each other and the connection we share. We’re good for each other. Don’t you agree?” He mutters out desperately.

“I guess so. I just don’t want to be by myself anymore.”

“So say it.” He hisses out.

“Say what?” You mumble.

“Say you’ll be mine.”

You take a moment before you tremble out the words he’s craved.

“I’m…yours.”

A guttural hum crawls from out his throat, pleasing the thirst that he’s been wanting to quench.

“That’s my girl.”

He doesn’t miss how you enjoy hearing that, a small grunt slips past your pretty lips. He wants to kiss you right now, to tear your white dress off your body and explore every single part of you.

As he inches towards you hesitantly, watching as you move your body closer to his, he could smell the light fragrance of mint. He squeezes your hip, nudging his nose with yours, closing his eyes.

“Baekhyun…”

“Don’t…say anything.” He murmurs against your lip.

“Please- don’t hurt me. Don’t be like him.”

He opens his eyes, meeting your lovestruck brown ones, there’s a hint of curiosity, worry.

“I will never hurt you.”

You suddenly push your lips on his, your eyes closed tightly shut. Baekhyun’s eyes are still glued onto you, surprised by your neediness. He smiles into the kiss, silently laughing to himself when you don’t move against his pink lips. He raises his hand to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the intimate moment. You moan quietly as he licks your bottom lip, tugging on it gently, right before he sweeps his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues fought for dominance, the heat radiating off of your bodies making the mood of the room that was once romantic into something hungry; the sweet and undenying desire for one another.

You tug on the bottom of his shirt, releasing it from where it was tucked into his slacks. He grabs your hand, pinning it against the white wall. He pulls back from you, a string of saliva dripping off his lip, you whimper from the loss, putting your knee gently in between his legs, rubbing him. And fuck, Y/N, he would have taken you right there and made love to you, soothing your fiery deprivation of him, but his phone buzzed, halting the interaction.

You looked up at him like you were in trance, your hand placed on his chest. He clicked his tongue as he released your hand from the wall, reaching to his pocket.

Jihyo your food was delivered! Enjoy.

“Fuck.” He scolded himself, how did time pass so quickly?

You curiously try and peek at his screen, but he abruptly pulls it back, earning him an angry look.

“What is it? Why can’t I see it?” You protested.

Just go with what you were going to say, Baekhyun.

Baekhyun stammered, “I- I forgot something. I forgot I ordered some desert.”

You squint at him. Instead of him cornering you, it felt like he was the smaller person now.

“Yeah? Are you lying?”

He scoffs, “Of course not. Just give me 20 minutes and I’ll be back. You can look around, start eating. It won’t take too long. I promise I’ll be back before you even notice.”

You move past him without saying a word, plopping yourself on the couch. You reach towards the wine glass and swirl the crimson liquid around, a deadpan face being given.

“Why can’t I come with you then?”

He shifts his weight, uniting his hands together while trying to fight the nervousness he’s exhibiting inside. “Because I want it to be a surprise.”

“So? I want to come with you. Let me come.”

“No.”

You put down the glass, leaning back into the couch cushion. Baekhyun continues to stare. He hoped you would say something else; the silence becoming too loud. Why did you have to be so adamant on this Y/N? Did you really want to come with him so you can watch your boyfriend’s secret affair be stabbed to death? You weren’t thinking about anything else but him, which was nice. Baekhyun would be thrilled about it if he was going anywhere else, but not this. Right now, he wasn’t happy about your neediness to be with him, he just wanted you to stay put.

He crouches down, putting his head in his hands.

“Can you please…just stay here?” He whines out.

You sigh.

“Fine.”

He looks up excitedly, rushing over to you and planting a kiss on your cheek. You’re still mad, he can tell, but he doesn’t miss how the corner of your lips were fighting off a smile. He rubs the top of your head before he pulls the keys out of his pocket.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” He smirks at you as he walks away.

“Yeah yeah. This better be some good dessert, Baekhyun.”

“I promise.”

He gently closes the door behind him, the sweet front he put on for you vanishes; the only thing that’s on his mind now is Jihyo. He resists the urge to moan as he pictures her dead body on the floor, the blood seeping from underneath her, the way she’d scream for someone to help her. There wouldn’t be anyone to save her, not from Baekhyun. He’d do it quickly, he already written the suicide letter as well, it was in the glove box along with the new knife he bought, specifically for her.

He sings a tune that’s been stuck in his head as he drives, smiling to himself.

You were something else, Y/N. A beautiful, loving and driven woman who knew what she wanted. Baekhyun already knew that you had fallen for him; it was just a different experience altogether to hear your rambling in person. To hear how much you needed him, the way that something clicked inside of you after spending one night with him. He didn’t know just how powerful he was, being able to get inside your head like that. Death works in miraculous ways.

It only took killing your boyfriend to make you realize what you really are.

You were just like him.

He checks the time as he finally reaches his destination, 9:30. He parks his car a street down from the apartments, grabbing a black hoodie he stashed in the back seat. He looks at himself in the mirror as he stuffs the knife and letter in the hoodie’s pocket, examining his looks. He would never get over this; the high before the kill. A rush of adrenaline pumping in his veins, the delicious feeling of taking one’s life. If he had to do this for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t complain. So he finally exits the car, keeping his head down to avoid any looks from anyone outside.

He grips the black handle of the knife that’s hidden away in the pocket, revelishing the very touch of it. Baekhyun already knew where she lived, of course he did, he’s not sloppy. He walks into the apartment building, his eyes washing over the bright and grand decor of the open area. She was rich after all. She worked for her father’s business, the well known CEO of Samsang, an electronic company. He doesn’t once raise his eyes as he approaches the receptionist desk, which earned him a confused stare from the woman standing behind it.

“May I help you with something, sir?”

He looked off towards the elevators to the left, he just had to get past this first.

“I’m just meeting a friend. Is there a problem?”

The woman sighs as she ducks her head down to try and look at him. He shys away, covering his mouth with his hand.

“I just have to write your name down. It’s just for records.”

Really?

“Uh, it’s Oh Sehun.”

She types away on the desktop computer, the clicks and clacks ringing out in the silence.

“And who are you meeting with?”

He looks up this time, giving her a hard stare.

“Why does that matter?”

She had short black hair that stopped before her shoulders, a navy blue uniform on display. She just rolls her eyes, bringing her hands to fold into one another.

“Many residents that live here are famous. I need to make sure you’re not a paparazzi or a fan.”

“She’s no one important.” He lashes out.

She pauses, giving him a puzzled look. He watches as she reaches towards the phone, sirens begin to go off in his head. He reaches over the desk, grabbing her arm. She looks back at him shocked, but he quickly removes the hood, flashing her a smile. That did something.

“I’m sorry. I’m meeting with my friend Jihyo. She just went through the loss of her boyfriend and sent me an alarming text so I’m just checking in on her. This shouldn’t be a problem right…Nayeon?” He looks at her name tag placed neatly on her shirt.

She blushes as he removes his hand from her.

“A-ah yes. Jihyo. I heard about that too. Poor thing,” She bats her eyelashes at him, “That’s so nice you’re checking on her. She hasn’t seen anyone since it happened. You two must be close.”

He chuckles, how far from the truth that was.

“Super close. She’s been stuck in my head for a while.”

The receptionist giggles at that, fidgeting with a pen she picked up.

“She’s lucky someone like you is thinking about her.”

Baekhyun is just too good at this shit. He nods at her before he starts to walk away.

“I’ll be going now. Can’t imagine the state she’s in. Thank you Nayeon.”

“N-No problem. Please stop by whenever you’d like Sehun.”

He almost trips, forgetting the fake alias he gave her. He waves at her sweetly before he presses the button to enter the elevator. Nayeon was still staring at him until the doors closed, and Baekhyun finally let out a sigh of relief. He rubs his eyes harshly, then slapped himself in the face. He needed to focus. It takes him out of it when stupid distractions get in the way of his job. He listens to the small bell-like noise as he stops on the floor he memorized.

This was it. He was going to do this for you, Y/N. Watch the stupid bitch die and come back to you, you who were waiting for him at home. That had a nice ring to it. He couldn’t wait for the phone calls and texts that you would send him before he came home from work, the cuteness and neediness of wanting to see him. Nothing could get in the way of him pursuing you.

He walks towards the door that had 56A engraved into the frame, a gold-ish hue bouncing off of it. He covers his face once more with his hood, reaching his hand into the pocket to make sure he still had everything prepared. He licks his chapped lips as he knocks lightly, then puts his ear on the cold wood to listen for any footsteps.

He draws back from it once he hears a loud obnoxious moan emitting from the other side. He watches as the door knob rattles a couple of times, and finally, it swings open, revealing a depressing sight. The woman didn’t have any makeup on, dark circles decorated underneath her dark brown eyes. She had blemishes scattered over her pale skin, her long black hair tied into a bun. Her sweats were stained with food remnants, crumbs lingering here and there, her shirt filled with wrinkles.

She gives him a frown.

“I already got my food.”

He smiles.

“We forgot something.”

Jihyo elicits another groan, turning around to look inside her apartment.

“I got everything. By the way, the food is terrible. I couldn’t even eat a bite-”

He pushes her limp body back from where she came from, inviting himself in as she scrambles. He slams the door shut behind him, taking off his hood and smirking down at her. He brings out the knife from his pocket, watching how it gleamed in the dark living room. Jihyo raises her hands in front of her face, her voice wavering as she cries out.

“Who are you!?”

Baekhyun scoffs as he gets down at her level, pressing the weapon’s tip to her head.

“You don’t need to know. You have some fucking nerve, thinking you could get away with what you did.”

“What I did? What are you-” She freezes, her eyes widening as she takes him in, “I-I know who you are. You’re the fucking guy that was at Y/N’s apartment. What the fuck are you doing?!”

That put a damper on things. He presses the knife into her head slowly, covering her mouth to mute any screams. Tears run down her dreadful face, her lips trembling in Baekhyun’s palm.

“Jihyo…don’t you know you’re a whore? A sick, disgusting cunt. The world doesn’t need you.”

Just as he’s about to push the blade straight through her puny skull, she bites down on his hand, making Baekhyun drop the knife and hold his hand in pain. Jihyo stands up, but before she does, she grabs his prized possession and points it at him. He tilts his head at her, a smile erupting on his face. This would be fun.

“Get the fuck away from me. I’ll fucking kill you.” She spits out angrily. She doesn’t move from her spot as Baekhyun stands up, massaging his hand from the bite she had given him.

“You’re going to kill me? Okay, I’ll give you a chance,” He raises a finger at her, motioning her to come at him, “If I win, I get to ring your neck and stab that little heart of yours.”

What he didn’t expect was for Jihyo to throw the knife behind her, then run at him at full force, landing a hearty kick to his stomach. He doubles over and stumbles into the cream colored couch. Before he could even react, the small woman grabs a lamp that sat on a little nook beside him, breaking it on his head. He groans in pain, his vision stained red as blood dripped from his eyebrow. What the fuck.

“What the fuck are you? A fucking rabid dog?” Baekhyun raises his hands to defend himself.

Jihyo stands a couple feet away from him now, her hands balled into fists.

“Six years in Taekwondo. Still think you can kill me?”

He can’t stop the giggle he lets out.

“I did martial arts too. Hapkido. Didn’t think I’d ever have to use it until now.”

Jihyo snarls at him, repeating the speedy encounter she landed on his unsuspecting self a moment ago, but this time, he was prepared. He ducked down, rolling himself underneath her, watching as her foot collided with the broken glass. She yelps in pain, but Baekhyun was one step ahead of her. He leaps towards her legs, huddling them together as he throws her onto the ground. Her head bangs on the wooden floor and he quickly crawls up her body and pins her. Jihyo however knees him in between his legs, Baekhyun gritting his teeth together as he slaps her across the face.

She pushes him off, crawling towards her kitchen. He limps after her, his eyes spotting a picture frame that sat on her tv stand. He hurriedly picks it up and throws it at her back, watching as her tiny body contorts in the sudden attack. Baekhyun smiles to himself as he jumps, his weight crushing her. He spins her body around to face him, the left side of her forehead swelling up, her teeth stained with blood. Jihyo tries to kick him again but he just reaches down to stop her movement.

“I think…” He takes a deep breath, wiping the blood from out of his eyes, “I win.”

Jihyo looks frightened for the first time, her mouth hanging open in defeat.

“N-No. I don’t want to die!”

He laughs loudly, throwing his head back.

“You’re so fucking delusional. Did you actually think you’d fucking kill me? I never lose-”

Oh.

Her shaky hand holds the forgotten knife that she threw earlier, holding it to his throat.

“Move, and I stab you.” She threatens him precariously.

He brings his hands in the air, not ripping his eyes away from the sharp blade. He removes himself from her body, standing up. She follows suit, keeping the knife in its place.

“I’m going to…call the police. If you make one fucking move on me, I’ll do it.”

Baekhyun nods slowly, walking with her as she makes her way over to the couch. He watches as she dips down to grab her cell phone, her eyes never leaving him. Jihyo looks down at her phone to input her password, and Baekhyun thinks this is it. He actually…lost. He was done for.

He would never be able to see you again, you would know what he did, be disgusted with him.

A lone tear falls from his eye. He pleads.

“Please. Don’t do this.”

The woman looks at him and laughs, blood spitting from her mouth.

“Just a moment ago you were trying to kill me. Are you delusional?”

All of a sudden, a knock makes itself known in the apartment. Both of them look at the door in surprise, Jihyo still holding the phone in her hand, the call still not made.

“Go to the door.”

She presses the knife into his throat a little more, Baekhyun wincing as the flesh breaks. He nimbly walks over to the awaiting person on the other side of the door, Jihyo behind him.

He doesn’t want to answer it. So when he doesn’t do anything once he stands in front of the frame, Jihyo grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head back. She hisses out,

“Open. The. Door.”

Baekhyun didn’t know what he expected, really. Maybe it was Nayeon, checking in on the situation. She seemed worried about the tenant living here, and obviously made it known that she was attracted to him. He wouldn’t mind seeing one person that liked him before he went to prison anyways. But what he didn’t, honestly, expect was…

You.

You stood there, your eyes wide as you took in the scene in front of you. Baekhyun lets out an audible gasp, his heart breaking in two. This couldn’t be happening. Why the fuck was this happening? How did you get here? When did you get here? Why…why are you here, Y/N?

“What the hell is going on here?” You press anxiously. You don’t move, keeping your eyes on him.

He tries to speak but his voice betrays him.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on, this fucking guy just tried to kill me.”

Jihyo rages out, digging the knife into his throat more. Baekhyun’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out. You look at him, worried, but then you direct your attention behind him, to Jihyo. There was something in the air before it happened, he couldn’t describe what it was. The look of pure hatred floods your face, and before he could register anything else, he’s being flung to the side, Jihyo letting out a screech.

You shut the door behind you, your back to the both of them. Baekhyun covers the wound on his neck, trying to stop the bleeding. You slowly turn around, your white satin dress flowing gracefully as you did so.

“Baekhyun. Tell me what’s going on.”

He stares in disbelief on the ground, watching as you don’t tear your gaze away from Jihyo, who is still holding the knife in her hand. Her eyes bug out, a quick breath exhaled from her.

“I- I…I wasn’t trying to kill her, Y/N. You have to believe me.” Funny how in a pretty obvious situation of what’s going on, he still chooses to lie. But he’s willing to still paint himself as innocent to you, anything than what he actually was.

Jihyo throws her arms in the air, waving the knife around as she gasps loudly.

“Oh come on. He came here and told me he was going to kill me. What happened to believing the victim?”

Baekhyun stutters out, “I’m the victim here. You wouldn’t stop texting me. I came over to stop your persistence of being with me. You attacked me when I told you no.”

You look at him this time, shocked.

“She was texting you?”

Jihyo shakes her head, “I don’t even know him. I wouldn’t do that.”

You laugh this time, looking at her.

“You wouldn’t try and take someone away from me? Isn’t that your whole shtick? Let’s see…you willingly got with my boyfriend, knowing that he was already in a relationship. And I’m supposed to believe you? Jihyo, let’s get one thing straight,” You walked towards her, Jihyo cowering, “I’m the victim here. You will never be the victim.”

She lets her guard down as you spit the last word out, and you snatch the weapon from her hand. Jihyo looks at you stunned, abruptly getting to her knees and bowing her head.

“P-please. I never meant to hurt you. He said he loved me!”

Baekhyun watches in amusement with a sly smirk. He adjusted himself on the ground, leaning on the couch. He didn’t know you had this in you, Y/N. This raw power that only he thought he had concealed. But here you were, knife in hand, showing the whore who was in control here. You weren’t real, no, you were everything that he dreamed about having. You were a monster, just like him. His mother was right.

He saw her in you.

But instead of a terrifying and gruesome beast only made in nightmares, he saw something beautiful.

You’re just like an angel.

So he sits and watches more as you bring your foot to stomp on her head, Jihyo letting a gurgled out scream as her nose collided to the floor. He could hear the snap from where he was, and he laughed at her pain. You crouch, bringing the knife to her chest. You speak so sweetly to her, the words sounding so light and airy rolling of your tongue.

“He didn’t love you. He didn’t love anyone. You don’t get to stand here and tell me that my boyfriend loved you. Who do you think you are? Who the actual fuck, do you think you are telling me you weren’t trying to make a pass on Baekhyun? For the first time since Kyungsoo’s death, I’m happy. And here you are, again, trying to take my happiness away from me. This time, I’m ready. I’m fucking ready to stop you. I deserve to be fucking happy. Fuck you.”

You raise the knife in the air, bringing it towards Jihyo’s chest. But before her demise, you freeze, inches away from the kill. Baekhyun gapes, confused. He crawls over to you, looking at your eyes shake in fear. He smiles at Jihyo, who is just as confused as he was. He places a hand on your back, to which you jump a little, staring at him with teary eyes.

“I’m not a… murderer, Baekhyun.”

He puts his knee on the fallen woman’s throat, a hitched gasp escaping her lips. He gawks at you, trying to camouflage the overwhelming love he felt for you right now.

“Of course you’re not a murderer, Y/N. This poor woman killed herself.”

Your words stumble over each other, as if your mind is trying to understand what you meant.

“What do you mean?”

He gives you a twinkling beam as he rests his hand over yours on the hilt of the knife.

“I mean…Jihyo here was suicidal after Kyungsoo’s death. She couldn’t get over it. The only way to deal with the pain was by killing herself. Do you understand?”

Your once puzzled expression is wiped away with realization. You mimic him quietly, looking down at the assaulted woman whose eyes race between you and him.

“She couldn’t get over it.”

He nods, bringing the knife back up in the air with you.

“Right. She killed herself.”

Like a trance, you repeat it.

“She killed herself.”

He raises his eyebrow as you push his hand off of the weapon, violently pushing the knife into Jihyo’s chest. She arches her back, blood gushing out of her mouth. He stares in amazement as you swiftly pull it out, a smile appearing on your face. Just as he’s about to say something, you surprise him by stabbing the lifeless body once more. Then another. And another. Until finally you plow it deep into her neck, her blood splattering onto your white material.

Baekhyun was stunned. Not only did you initiate the killing yourself, you fucking liked it. It was written on your face. You enjoyed killing Jihyo, the worthless pile of shit that had this coming.

He didn’t think he could be more in love with you; but you proved him wrong, Y/N.

You drop the knife, taking deep breaths as you turn to face him.

“I just killed her-”

He crashes his lips on yours, grabbing your waist to pull you into his embrace. You comply, twisting your hands in his hair, slightly tugging on it. He chuckles darkly into your mouth, to which you pull back and giggle nervously.

“I got paranoid so I followed you here. I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know. I thought you were going to see the hairdresser. I-I thought she lived here and you were coming to meet her-”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s okay? It’s okay that I did this, right?”

“It was meant to happen.”

“I think I like you too much, Baekhyun.” You stutter brokenly.

He looks at you adoringly, and nothing was more breathtaking than the view he had of you right now. Blood has covered the side of your cheek, your dress, your hands. Your lips were shaking slightly, and someone might assume that you were in a traumatic state, but the look in your eyes showed complete control. He knew there was something different about you. From the start. You finally admitted the love you had for him by saving his life. You killed for him.

“That’s my girl.”

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

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adorkableejit · 4 years

Photo

CosmopolitanKorea YT Update with Xiumin

#exo #xiumin #minseok #xiumin gif #he is 30 ffs #how?!?!?#cosmopolitan korea #remiedits

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littleshopofk-pop · 3 years

Text

## exo masterlist

S — smut F — fluff A — angst C — crack

nothing to see here … yet

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

full masterlist

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shoemin · 5 years

Text

Paring: Kim Jongin X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: No

A/N: Uh hi so this is my first writing so please don’t be to harsh..It’s quite cringy I know but I tried so that’s something 😂

Promotions were such a pain, you’d get used to having your boyfriend Jongin around and then one day he’s gone for weeks to sometimes months. Not that you minded to much, you love and supported him with his job and we’re happy for him that he was able to complete his dreams of being an idol, but you still get lonely sometimes.

And today was one of those days, you were missing Jongin just a little bit extra. You were sitting on the couch watching some reality show that was playing late at night since you couldn’t sleep. You thought about calling Jongin but then you reminded yourself that he’s probably working or getting some deserved rest.

Sighing, you placed your phone back down trying to focus your mind on anything else when you heard a knock at the door.

Wondering who that was this late kind of put you on alert, as you got up and walked to answer the door a smile instantly finding its ways on your features when your greeted with Jongins honey like eyes and shy smile.

“Hi baby, surprise-“ was about all Jongin could even get out before you were lunging yourself into his arms, finally feeling content after the long awaited weeks without him.

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courageouslyfearless · 4 years

Text

Masterlist

My goal (and so far it is working) is to post one of these a week. For the time being I’m just writing random scenarios that I come up with. Hope you enjoy! ☺

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Minseok (Xiumin)

↠ Carnival

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Chanyeol

↠ Dare

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Sehun

↠ Summer Storm

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Baekhyun

↠ Dream World (AU) - | Part 1 | Part 2 |

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Yixing (Lay)

↠ Forest Song (AU) - Coming Soon

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jongin (Kai)

↠ Coming Soon

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Junmyeon (Suho)

↠ Coming Soon

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jongdae (Chen)

↠ Coming Soon

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Kyungsoo (D.O.)

↠ Coming Soon

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jazzaiko · 2 years

Text

The Sun and The Moon

Pairing: Xiumin/Chen Rating: General Tweet drabble originally from here

#xiuchen #sun #moon #jongdae #minseok #exo fiction #exo ff #drabble #exo fics #jazzaikofics

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toofabforsociety · 4 years

Photo

Xiuhan | AU

Involuntary Heart

When we met unexpectedly Love has slowly accumulated.

"I fell in love with you but forget about you, my heart is obviously resisting. How can I fully abadon your memories? Even if there is only one drop in memory I must hide it in my heart."

#xiumin #luhan #xiuhan #minseok #lumin #fanfic #ff #fanfic prorompts #fanfic prompt #exo #asian fic

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chogisad · 5 years

Video

undefined

tumblr

W I T N E S S | Xiuchen AU Trailer

#EXO #Video Edit #Xiuchen #chen #xiumin #exo chen #exo xiumin #jongdae #minseok #exo ff #exo au #exo edit #exo mv #exosnet #tw: blood

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yeoldontknow · 7 years

Text

Solar Flare - Mercury

Author: @eradikeats-writes as part of The Heavens - a series of ongoing one shots with @the-porcelain-doll-xo and @rudeboywonho

Creative Content Contributors: @everybodykpops (who is creating exquisite moodboards for the series)

Pairing: Minseok x Reader (oc; female; based off Urania)

Rating: PG

Warnings: mentions of war

Word Count: 2,929

“In the beginning, there was time.”

This is the common misconception of the dawn of the universe, an infinite black held anxiously in wait. Time passing in indeterminate values until there was something to count the hour, something to feel its own heart break at the impossibility of its length.

In the beginning, there was time. This is wrong.

In the beginning, there was potential.

Time came later, after the universe found there was no great relief simply drifting in an endless, eternal darkness. Time came later, only after the breaking apart and rebuilding of the void resulted in a cradle filled with possibility, nestled hopefully in the in between. Crawling forward, it severed the umbilical tether that kept it contained, constricted, and impotent, and marked the end of its dependency on law. For a while, there was no law, merely a great spawning of life and action, an eruption of light so blinding the universe has simply forgotten how to be silent in the onslaught of pain.

Time came later, when there were Nine.

When the black became purple, and blue, and red; when the silence became an endless din of life, and energy, consumed by the magnitude of sound, there were Nine. Happenstance placed them as they were, so close to the Sun, a star - their father, mother, blessing, and curse - and crowned them as kings. Nine perfect children born to Nine perfect houses, brothers in protection, law, and blood. Blessed by stardust, they lived and loved, and, for a time, they were happy.

Millenia passed easily and quickly, whole great worlds born in the palms of their hands. After they started counting time, they decided to meet together, to unite and talk, speak on discoveries and findings. After they started counting time, they decided to stand together and fight, learned to rule together and love together, united in a way that made even the greatest of solar creations bow to their stead.

After they started to count time, things soon became hard.

Standing atop the observatory roof, relishing the way the metal glistens in the midnight sun, Minseok thinks on these things now, letting the way they churn his mind and memory send shivers down his spine. Tonight, the usual red and green of the skies has departed, leaving in their wake a sickly yellow glare of solar discharge.

A solar flare is coming, he has felt it for days in the boiling heat of the Sun, and now he is waiting for the relief. Tension slithers through his muscles, makes his shoulders ache to curve over and his thighs tremble anxiously in stoicism. The silk of his shirt sticks to his chest, the night warm and the wind lackluster at best, his flesh damp with heat and stress.

Vision turned upward to the sky, he counts the stars and waits. He waits and breathes and ruminates on why his brain has selected these thoughts for him this night. Always, he has considered memories to be illusions deemed worth remembering, difficult to bring them back in their full tangibility, yet the body remembers the stain - imprinted with loss, love, fear. Always, he has considered memory to be a complex, impersonal thing, the whole of the universe stretching out in front of, and behind, life in one collective length of rope. The shared involvement with living, each thing gradually moving through its life, means all individual experience is no longer unique, merely it is the implied value that makes the difference.

Yet, tonight, he finds himself troubled by an endless rotation of his brothers, each ghosting over his eyes with clenched fists and wet eyes, vague in their shape and form. Tonight, he is haunted, both by action and inaction, the past and the future. Timelines, he thinks, are converging, and he is caught in the fray. War and rage, like Mars yet too detached, coils within his veins, running just beneath his skin and making his heart race with trepidation. Tonight, he is burdened by the weight of all his choices, both made and unmade, rushing together all at once to dry his tongue.

Tonight, he is remembering.

Most clearly, he remembers Yixing standing beside him. Brilliant always, radiant even in the darkest reaches of the sky, and glowing beautifully now so close to the Sun, Yixing was weeping. Breastplate gleaming with tears, he had come to Minseok seeking all the things he could not find so far removed from the light. He had chose his eldest brother first, possibly for solace, but mostly for advice, begging for his breath to guide and dwarf him in righteousness. The threat was directly intended for Pluto, Minseok reminds himself, not the other brothers and their homes; the Guardian of the Outside and Protector of all within.

Positioned so deliberately at the outer rim of the system, he was the duality of death. Warm, beautiful, hopeful even in the way he welcomed the void and silence, he was lethal and he was hungry. A battalion unto himself, few went to war, drank the agony of misery, and luxuriated in loss as elegantly as he. But always, before the endless gnaw of flesh and clash of metal, he grieved openly, fully.

Letting the memory take its hold, Minseok feels a collapse take place somewhere deep within his ancient heart, confronted now with the hollow eyes of his young brother. Melancholy seemed to suit him that night, and this, he knows, should have been his first warning of things to come.

‘Please,’ Yixing had said simply, refusing to face him and instead letting the closeness of the Sun turn his black eyes gold.

‘I told you we will do what we can.’ Minseok had found it to be a struggle, that night, to be both comforting and faithful to the whim of the universe, especially after he had learned the secrets of the stars. Devastation would happen, swords would be drawn - he simply didn’t know whose would be victorious.

He did not know who would win, and therefore he could not sway the outcome.

‘Would you so willingly dispose of the future in an effort to maintain your honor?’ he seethed, rounding on Minseok with eyes that felt like iron, shocked and awed at his brother’s almost blasé ignorance of the depth of his plight.

Minseok had sighed then, bowing his head in an effort to remain patient. ‘You cannot hold us to our words, because we cannot truly know the consequence -’

‘Then you cannot expect me to give my heart anymore!’ Yixing snapped, pounding his armor with vicious malcontent. ‘Not so generously for those who will not help me!’

He feels the solar flare before he sees or hears it, the rumbles of cosmic energy tearing through the rock to vibrate against his feet before working their way up his legs; waves of tangibility traveling at different speeds. It eases him out of his torment, forces him to forget that his sweet, jovial brother had been turned into something less almost by the palm of his own hand. It eases him back into reality, and only then, before the flash and storm of the Sun, does he realize you are beside him.

Hands absentmindedly twirling your celestial globe, so too are your eyes poised at the sky. Beneath the Sun’s rays, your embroidered cloak, twinkling purple and blue, becomes a galaxy unto itself, and you are wrapped in all the majesty of space. Hair flowing like hydrogen, combative, powerful, regal, you are impassive and smiling, watching the way the sky births a new prophecy just for you.

Like this, he think, he could fall for you over and over and over again, and he does. Swooning slightly at the sight of you, he reminds himself that you are his, and he is yours, a pair destined beyond the birth of the cosmos - a match of interstellar proportions.

You glance at him then, face soft and eyes dancing. In these moments, he loves you most, just before cosmic burst of purpose, when you seem to glow from the inside out, astronomical and glorious.

‘Take my hand,’ you murmur, closing your eyes to welcome the great wave. ‘I trust only your touch when the sky is like this.’

Glad for the connection, he eagerly entwines his fingers with yours, watching the way your chest settles as you exhale, long and deep. Eager to capture as much of the light as he can, he edges you both close to the ledge of the roof, tipping his head back and exposing himself to the bath like he is delivering himself to providence. So too do you unleash the flesh of your neck and chest, envious of Minseok’s surrender and keen to swallow the flare just as much.

At the first eruption, the first quake of thunder and the opening maw of the Sun, Minseok readies himself for a pleasure that does not come. Solar flares should bathe his skin in light. Solar flares should wash him, cleanse his skin and give new purpose to his tired existence. Always this has been the way and, instead, all he hears is screaming.

Yixing was asking to die. He was begging Baekhyun for it, pleading with wild eyes and a wet tongue, to have him run his sword clean through his chest. Too much had been lost and not enough could ever be regained. Gathering his body in his arms, Baekhyun screamed, loud and horrible, in an effort to protect his brother from more pain, but the damage had been done. Twice, Yixing had been refused, and twice, Yixing had been covered in the blood and dust of things he loved the most.

In the aftermath, Yixing sat silent and still, watching Styx rotate in the deafening silence. Tears were expected, a howl of grief so long and desperate that the ground would open into one great cavernous mouth, consume them whole in a motion almost too clean for the mess of space. Instead, he merely sat, taking in the way his world had ended even though Pluto’s axis continued to spin.

It was then, Minseok knew, that all his love, the heart of his life and soul, had been transfigured into blame.

‘Minseok!’

‘Say a sermon, brother!’ Yixing spit, dark and cold only then for the first time in his life. ‘Say a sermon for all those you let die!’

‘This is no one’s fault!’ Junmyeon replied, vigor and rage coursing through his usual placid tone. ‘This is the natural law of all things!’

‘You were idle and absent!’

‘Minseok, please! Come back to me!’

With eyes wide open, Minseok sees you hovering above him. Briefly, he wonders how he got here, to the ground and without feeling his own fall. Hands, your hands, cup his cheeks, thumbs stroking along the bones, as you press your forehead against his. Still, he is bleary eyed and confused, knowing he is here and with you, but still seeing all the ash of Pluto stained with blood.

Minseok is pulled to his feet, unsteady and heavy, and he rests against you in search of stability and comfort. In the effort to stand, he sees the markings now burned on the flesh of his hands. By virtue of proximity or fate, the symbols of the solar flare, the language of prophecy, are always blazed onto his body as he coats himself in the embers. This time, they are not beautiful in their shape, they are distorted, warped and red and angry; they match the way his soul has started to feel.

‘I can’t read them,’ you whisper, looking at his hands in earnest. ‘I’ve never seen them look like this.’

‘How did you see them?’ he murmurs, voice raspy and tired as he rests his head against your shoulder. Suddenly, he feels groggy, overwhelmed with purpose and meaning, but he knows you could not have seen them so quickly.

‘You’ve been out for a long time.’

Somewhere in the back of his wind, a voice emerges, ethereal and whispering secrets of the oncoming meeting. No, not a meeting - a reunion. The solar system is sick with it, the impending doom and inevitable carnage that will come just by having them in the same space. Together.

Even if lives are not lost, all Nine together is surely an omen.

It makes sense now, all the tension he has carried with him these last thousand years. Soon, he will be meeting with his brothers. Soon, they will be coming together for the first time since Pluto’s collapse. Soon, the past will return to haunt them. With the uneasy solar flare, Minseok is forced to remember the way his ambivalence turned him into the carrier of death, a harbinger of doom against his best wishes.

‘Should we go to the library?’ you ask, softly holding Minseok to you because, surely, you know something is amiss. ‘To see if we can translate them?’

‘There is no need,’ Minseok croaks.

He simply does not want their truth, not tonight.

It is his first time on Earth, and he is glad he is able to see its beauty, all green and blossoming and full. Spring, he heard Jongdae calls it, and he thinks the word is playful. Light and airy in its implication, the word seems fitting for all the things that he sees.

Here, the Sun is far from him, far enough away that the warmth feels soothing rather than erupting and violent, and unable to be controlled. Here, he can bask in the light, and not feel burdened by all it contains. Here, the Sun is a gentle, distant thing, something soft and wholly unlike its true nature.

Barefoot, he lets his feet press harder into the grass and sighs happily at the pleasant feeling, strange for someone so used to hard rock and stone. A breeze moves delicately through his fingers, slides between the strands of his hair, and beneath his outstretched palms. For a moment, he finds it hard not to be jealous of Jongdae. A home like this could make a man keen to laugh, keen to live, keen to love in a way that is both impossibly and naturally simple. This is not the home for him, Minseok knows, but it is nice to imagine.

Around him, the world is jostling. Cars pass by and planes move overhead, gliding on the clouds like metal birds. People pass and this world turns, all of it wonderous in the harmony it creates. When he first arrived, the noise was a painful overstimulation, this world brimming over with life so loudly that the sheer amount of it caused all of his senses to sting. Now, after hours of standing alone, he sees humanity as quiet little animals, animals so blinded by the brief length of their life, they simply cannot do anything more than live unabashedly and completely. If he did not have the promise of eternity, he thinks even this noise would be akin silence, and he cannot believe they would want to limit their cacophonous euphoria.

‘Always the fastest, aren’t you, brother?’

Minseok does not bother to open his eyes for Jongin, does not bother to turn or greet him, simply stretches his fingers a little longer and lets the wind kiss them.

‘My prudence of time has rewarded me,’ he mutters, craning his neck slightly to the side to let the Sun warm his tendons. ‘I’ve enjoyed this atmosphere in solitude.’

He feels Jongin come to stand beside him, the closeness of their bodies causing the hair on his arms to stand on end. It’s easy to crave Jongin, for the body and the heart to want to be around him, enveloped by him, for always. Golden and beautiful, he is the warmest, softest, most affectionate of their family, and he makes the air around him feel like rapture. Naturally, Minseok leans a little closer to him, happy to feel his familial tenderness before the arrival of the others.

‘I dreamt of Pluto last night,’ Jongin says, simply and without any ceremony.

Minseok opens his eyes at this, surprised his eyes feel no pain at the sudden adjustment. ‘Oh?’ he questions, turning to face his brother.

Jongin is darker than usual, full lips pressed into a thin line. These harsh lines are unnatural on him, unsuited for a creature so exquisite, and it makes him release a small whine of frustration.

‘It was less a dream,’ Jongin clarifies with a delicate tongue, ‘and more of a memory.’

‘Of the war?’

‘Yes.’ Jongin turns to face him, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets and eyes grim. Flashes move across his irises, brief moments of the great undoing running through his mind. ‘I think we’re all haunted by it.’

Tearing his eyes from Jongin’s gaze, Minseok regards the markings on his hands and finds himself stricken. There is a reason for all this bloodshed and torment. There is a reason for all these memories to resurface, and it is not merely because they are finally reunited.

He looks up at the Sun and scowls, feeling, for the first time, as though has been abandoned. He has been abandoned by the knowledge of the cosmos, and for a moment he thinks he understands.

It is not merely about a reunion because it feels like vengeance, it feels like retribution. It feels like the tearing and ripping of the cosmos, a great shattering filled only with guilt.

It feels like the end.

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