Work Text:
Maybe it’s all entirely Taeyong’s fault that things have gotten to this point. He was only curious, and his need for research to satisfy this endless hunger has led him here. Those he works with always laugh at him, humiliate him at any chance they get. Sometimes Jaehyun will take his hard work and shred it in front of him. Other times Mark will ask to borrow his work only to present it as his own. Every day, Johnny and the others will crowd at his desk until he throws up all over his reports and equipment. Doyoung always watches from the darkest corner of the room as Taeyong begs for forgiveness.
Truthfully, it is Taeyong’s fault. He should’ve just been better really, at everything. He wouldn’t have been left to scour the internet at three in the morning every night, clicking through different tabs, opening new websites, diving deeper and deeper until there was no saving himself. Would he describe himself as paranoid? No, absolutely not. He knows what is lingering over his shoulder, has known for a while. At work, sometimes, he can escape to a closet and hide in the dark, sobbing to himself until his tears are dry and hurt. It’s always been like this, Taeyong thinks. Teachers, parents, classmates, coworkers, relatives, strangers, bosses, mentors, apprentices, so on and so forth. Everyone. Doyoung doesn’t do anything, although maybe that’s worse.
It’s an endless cycle, one that he can’t break free of. No matter where he runs, Taeyong finds himself back at his desk, where his vomit has gone dry and his coworkers remain, watching his every movement. Sometimes they ridicule his breathing. How he takes his steps. The way he talks quickly. How he gets overwhelmed at the smallest of things. Taeyong’s mind always wanders to the most distasteful of ideas. He tries to flee to a different closet so he can cry freely.
Instead, cold water wraps around Taeyong, pulling his skin apart and sinking into his lungs. With thrashing hands, Taeyong pulls himself free of the water, gasping for air once his head breaks free of the surface. He’s in a bathtub, filled to the brim with water—some of it spills out, splattering against the ground loudly. Taeyong grips the sides of the bathtub, stabilizing himself as he sits up, unable to get enough air.
The wind is cold, and as Taeyong heaves, he stares at the delicate snowflakes twirling in the air. Dark trees erupt from the ground, catching the snowflakes on their branches as snow piles up on the ground. The water is cold, so cold, but Taeyong can’t bring himself to get out, instead holding his hands out to carry some of the snowflakes.
He watches as Doyoung walks by in the snow, all smiles and pretty eyes, like always. His footprints disappear almost immediately as he disappears in the trees. Finally, Taeyong pulls himself out of the bathtub and follows after him, quick on his feet so as to not lose sight. The snow becomes even heavier and the coldness dissipates into something feverish. This is what he deserves, Taeyong supposes. He asked for this, begged for it even. Taeil called him crazy, Donghyuck always laughed in his face like everything was a joke, and yet he’s here.
He’s here in the snow, incapable of breathing as he listens to Doyoung chew. There’s no pain, just excitement. Why is it still snowing? For all that he has done, for giving himself up like this, why don’t things look better? Everyone would be thanking him right now, and yet he remains here as Doyoung holds his heart gently. It beats so fast, and Taeyong feels the void in his chest, the emptiness in his ribcage. His blood melts the snow around him, but there’s even more snowflakes now.
“For my heart has never moved so fast, yet so slowly. I owe it to you, truthfully. Watching over me, always keeping me on the same page. Humans have always felt tender against me, you more so. Might I suggest you feel the same way towards me, Taeyong? My work shall be easier and more fulfilling now, and even here, I am hesitant to taste you. Your heart is warm and interesting. You trusted me, and so I shall grant you even just a bit of my mercy.”
“Your mercy?”
“Why, yes. That’s all you took of my words?”