Archive of Our Own ^beta

And what has life done with our lives?

What won’t we do for love?

His heart leaped in his chest to the rhythm of the doorbell. In the dark, cold night, where endless silence was all he knew, the sound was eerie and haunting, like a supernatural occurrence. Like a warning. Like an omen. An omen of death.

He walked on jiggly legs to the front hall, but his body froze just before he reached the door. What waited for him outside was a riddle he didn’t want to solve, and all the possibilities seemed daunting. He expected a commotion, a sobbing Young-yi, maybe even the police. He hadn’t been fully himself for the entire day, ever since he realized that the part of him that belonged to Soo-ho had vanished with him, leaving without a trace — leaving to fight their enemies.  

“Who’s there?” He asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed his fears. He had a bad taste in his mouth, a bad feeling all around, and a wish to see him once more. He had never prayed before, but he had been praying desperately to lay his eyes on Soo-ho’s and hold him close, if only to say: don’t ever do something this stupid ever again. 

His response took a while to come through, but when it did, Si-eun felt all the blood in his veins warm up, a shiver running from the hairs in the back of his neck ‘till the tip of his fingers. He felt light, and heavy, and like he had died just to be reborn.

“Delivery.”

Oh, thank God, you idiot.

He didn’t have to say anything this time. Not “what?” or “I didn’t order food” or nothing else that could delay their encounter. As he opened the door desperately, almost battling with the security system, he wished that Soo-ho would always find himself at his door, no matter how difficult things between them could get. It was where he belonged; by Si-eun’s side, in his line of sight, with his eyes on him.

But it wasn’t Ahn Soo-ho who greeted him when the door finally opened. 

It was a panting creature, breathless and menacing against the poor light of the corridor. He was a shadow of a beast, with his broad shoulders moving heavily and showing, with every move, that he was completely drenched in blood. His smell was a mix of sweat and metal, the red in his clothes adorned with another shade of red that almost faded into black. He had cuts in his face, bruises in his hands. The blood was fresh and abundant like he had bathed in it. The night wind swatted through them, freezing them in time; not even his hair had gone unblemished, the strands wet with viscous liquid. And when the light hit just right, Si-eun could see — there was no soul left in his eyes. 

“Soo-ho… What is this?” Si-eun questioned, horrified. He felt the tip of his fingers gripping the door so hard that his knuckles whitened, but he didn’t consider closing it even when Soo-ho looked at him without an ounce of regret, without an ounce of shame. There was no light in his eyes, but as if awaked by his voice, Soo-ho blinked, and took a deep breath. He took a small step forward and Si-eun shook in response. He had never thought there would come a day in which he’d feel afraid of Soo-ho, in which he’d feel uncomfortable in his presence. 

But those weren’t the eyes of the kind, charismatic, friendly Soo-ho he knew. That was not the semblance of the Soo-ho he had come to know and love. That was the face of a murderer still not quite out of his killing spree. He was looking at him with an intensity that he couldn’t comprehend; he was looking at him like Si-eun could very well be his next victim. 

So why couldn’t he close the damn door?

“I’m very thirsty.” Came his slurred reply. The roughness of it caught Si-eun off guard. It was like he hadn’t spoken in weeks. Whenever Soo-ho swallowed, it made a high noise and the blood in his neck became more noticeable. He was eyeing his broken arm, and Si-eun felt the urge to hide it again, like he had done previously. His voice came rougher when he said “Give me a glass of water, will you?”

Si-eun should’ve closed the door on him. He should’ve pushed him out and ran inside and called the police. He should’ve at least asked him. Where is my friend? What did you do to Soo-ho? 

“Soo-ho,” His voice came out so small he almost didn’t hear it himself. It was pleading, suffocating, as if he was being choked. Please. “What did you do?”

Please tell me it’s not what I’m thinking. 

Soo-ho clicked his tongue and looked him up and down. His high cheekbones had never looked so sharp, his features had never been so ominous. 

“Give me a glass of water and I’ll tell you.”

Si-eun should’ve closed the door. He should’ve listened to his instincts, to his heart and mind. But instead, he let Soo-ho in. Still, despite everything, he still let Soo-ho in, pass him by on his tiny hall like he did once before; because his instincts, heart, and mind all converged to Soo-ho in the end. Even covered in blood and definitely not in his right mind, Si-eun still wanted to hear from him, to understand him, to allow him into his space, because at some point, Soo-ho had become his only anchor. 

And at some point, that anchor had become loose, and they had lost their track. Soo-ho looked deranged, like in a psychotic trance, as if he had just escaped an asylum. Si-eun’s legs trembled all the way to the fridge; he grabbed a bottle of water and didn’t even bother to grab a mug. Soo-ho’s presence was that of a ghost, familiar and present, but alarming and threatening. Si-eun’s heartbeat was a wild drum as the blood drenched man in front of him drank almost a whole liter in one go. And when he groaned and looked at him, cleaning his lips and smearing the blood in his cheeks, Si-eun felt weirdly comforted. He caught a glimpse of that Soo-ho, the charming delivery boy with the teasing smile, if only by his mannerisms, and he regained the strength to ask him something that has been on his mind ever since he opened the door.

“Is there any possibility that all this blood is yours alone?” 

It was a rhetorical question. They both knew it. 

Soo-ho just stared at him. His eyes were so dark, so empty, so devoid of any sentiment that for the first time Si-eun wondered what he was thinking. With Soo-ho, he never had to wonder, he never had to guess; it was all so natural and instinctive, so much so that he came to believe that Soo-ho wore his heart on his sleeve. He was the type of guy that would rather fight than lie, the type of guy who never crossed the line. 

But now. Now he just stared at him, quiet and still. Si-eun used to think he was so loud and boisterous. He didn’t wish to be the one doing most of the talking between them. 

Eventually, the clock reached midnight, and the sound of the bell was comparable to that of an explosion. Si-eun could feel a migraine starting to form in the muscles of his forehead. And so he sighed, gesturing for Soo-ho to follow him:

“C’mon. Let’s clean you up.” 

There were a few medical supplies scattered across the bathroom’s cabinet and shelves, but Si-eun was honestly craving for Soo-ho to get in the shower with clothes altogether. He figured his abilities could be well utilized now, given the amount of times he got sick as a child. But the cotton wool, the bandaids and the gauze weren’t nearly enough for the size of Soo-ho’s — now their — problem; besides, there was only so much he could do with his arm on a cast. He didn’t know how to handle it, the gravity of the situation sinking deeper by the minute. 

He settled for grabbing a cloth and soaking it in water. It was a little difficult, but he could deal with limited movements just fine. He could feel Soo-ho’s breath on the back of his neck, warm and heavy, a little uneven. It made the hairs on his arms stand up, his pores shivering on high alert. When he turned around, Soo-ho was too close, his eyes searching for his face and drinking him in like he was the only source of nourishment for his body, his soul. Si-eun felt the air leave his lungs and lay on the space between their lips, dancing around in a thick wave of pent up frustration, anger, and most of all, an unspoken desire that was more lit than ever, like electricity. 

Si-eun opened his mouth, willing to say something, but the words couldn’t quite reach his tongue. He felt his hands shaking, eager to touch, to fix, to do something. He was right there, in front of him, all flesh and blood — so much blood —, and looking at him like he was the only person, the only thing he had ever seen. He was there with him, just a touch away, like he had been praying for. He was there, and Si-eun wasn’t touching him. What a crime.

His left hand went up, slowly, carefully, and trembling. His fingers reached Soo-ho’s forehead, the heat of it almost burning him to the bone. He touched the skin through his silky hair, some of its strands slimy with blood, and felt able to breathe again. Soo-ho smelled of the stench of the streets, of fighting arenas, of rage that went beyond pettiness. It was a masculine smell; only a man quite like him could reach such a level of violence. And yet, when Si-eun returned his gaze, he saw a fascination in his eyes that made him feel okay. Because Soo-ho was looking at him as if he was, too, his only anchor; and as if to say: I will never hurt you. 

The weirdest emotion took hold of him, making his throat hurt and his chest ache. He swatted Soo-ho’s hair, revealing many wounds on his head. Then, he pressed the umid cloth to his forehead with his left hand, running the cloth over his bruises, cleaning as thoroughly as he could. 

It didn’t take long for the cloth to be overtaken by a deep shade of red. If it weren’t for the tiny spots of white that remained from where Si-eun’s fingers were tightly gripping it, one might think that the cloth was scarlet from the beginning. To clean Soo-ho, however, quickly proved to be a hassle; some cuts were profound, with a thick layer of dried blood encasing it. Others were easier to conceal, barely reaching the surface of the skin. Soo-ho took great joy in observing the way Si-eun’s eyebrows creased in concentration as his hands made pressure on his wounds, the touch almost pleasant in a mix of invasive and caring. 

By the time Si-eun’s hands reached Soo-ho’s neck, the cloth was more of a nuisance than any help; completely smeared with blood, it lost its capability to clean. It was now just another source of dirt — of cells and DNA that surely didn’t belong to the both of them. Or at least in its majority; Soo-ho had no cut so deep as to provoke that much blood. 

And Si-eun was dying to ask him. The possibilities made his head spin, his teeth ache, his fingers tremble. The doubt was more agonizing than the truth. The truth that, no matter what Soo-ho could have possibly done that was so atrocious, he’d still love him the same. The most horrifying truth was that Si-eun’s love was unconditional. And Soo-ho, knowingly or not, was using it in his favor.

Whatever he had done, whatever horrible crime he committed… What would it change between them? What wouldn’t? Would it ever change?

Soo-ho’s fingers reached his own, and Si-eun flinched. He had spaced out, the bloody cloth still hanging uselessly in his hands. He cleaned his throat as he crouched to search for other cloths in the cabinet, all the while looking for more gauze or cotton.

“Take off your windbreaker.” He said, still fumbling with the things in the cabinet. There were a few towels and other two cloths. It should do the trick for the major cuts. As for the rest of the blood… “I need to clean your arms.”

But Soo-ho seemed to be dissociating as much as he was. His red windbreaker remained still, adorning its rightful owner, but Si-eun could see that the material was ripped in several places, giving way to the slashed and bruised flesh of Soo-ho’s. When the blood drenched man didn’t move or react to his stare, Si-eun groaned inwardly and took his windbreaker himself, trying to be as gentle as possible. 

Soo-ho’s toned arms were revealed slowly, tanned and hurt and red. Si-eun had to swallow his urge to nag at him, to demand an explanation, to complain about how worried he was. Now that his initial shock had faded, he was feeling the fear slowly give place to anger, a powerful indignation that rose from within him. 

You vanish for almost twenty hours, come back to my apartment soaked in blood, and all that you say is “I’m very thirsty”? Who do you think you are? Do you think I have to appease you after this horror you put me through? I didn’t know where you were. You didn’t answer your phone. I thought you were dead. 

Si-eun’s hands were shaking without his notice or his consent. Against his will, his repetitive scrubbing became harsh, almost as if he wanted to push Soo-ho away, to irritate his skin and to make him feel even an ounce of his agony. 

Suddenly, Soo-ho grabbed his wrist, firm and stable, but still very much gentle as his hand settled over his cast. Si-eun’s eyes locked on his immediately, and his caramel brown pupils were dilated, his eyelids squinted as if he was wincing in pain. It was then that Si-eun realized, supported by the moisture in his own eyes, that he had said all that aloud. His frustrations, his fears and pains, all Soo-ho’s to hold. Like his hands, and gaze, and heart, everything. All his to hold.

When he finally opened his mouth again, Si-eun thought he couldn’t breathe. 

“I told him to apologize.”

Si-eun could feel more tears gathering, the annoying visitors they were. He didn’t want to seem so shaken, so pathetically dependent on Soo-ho’s well-being for normal functioning. 

“What?” He asked, blinking quickly and lightly trying to disperse the water. To Soo-ho, it only made his eyes more hypnotizing, more enchanting, and all the more reason to justify the blood in his hands. 

For Si-eun to look at him with those eyes, no matter the emotion behind them, Soo-ho would move mountains with the strength of his arms alone. 

“I told him to apologize to you.” He continued, his stare boring into Si-eun’s very soul. The smaller boy suddenly felt naked, exposed to the gravity of his words and the intensity of his countenance. “But he refused.”

Si-eun sighed tiredly and closed his eyes, turning his head to the side. He hated that he knew who he was without a single mention of his name. He, who had once been their close friend, who had been by their side. He, who went so far just to hurt them, just to prove a point.

He shoved his hand out of Soo-ho’s grasp, irritated beyond comparison. At least that’s what he hoped the red in his cheeks was conveying.

“T-Take off your shirt.” He grumbled, taking cottons and antiseptic. He felt shivers beginning to form in the tip of his spine, like it was winter cold. 

Soo-ho’s jawline set, but he complied. He took it off with a little bit of difficulty, but Si-eun found that he couldn’t bring himself to help him. When his torso finally came into view, Si-eun breathed slowly, suppressing a horrified gasp. “Your wounds-”

“Si-eun.” 

His voice stopped whatever trail of thought he could’ve had. Si-eun didn’t know how he planned to finish that sentence anyway; Soo-ho’s wounds were enough to leave an experienced doctor speechless, a mix of blue and yellow amongst the profuse blood that decorated his pecs like paint. He seemed to have been kicked and punched many times in the same place, and in many spots at that — critical spots, spots that MMA fighters certainly knew about. 

Right, Si-eun gritted his teeth, Young-bin’s friend was an MMA fighter. Which means that he-

“Si-eun.” Soo-ho repeated, more insistent this time. Si-eun blinked, swallowing his saliva and tasting the blood he could smell.

“Yes?”

Soo-ho took a deep breath. Si-eun could see it traveling through the hard planes of his muscled chest; could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed from time to time as he contemplated what to say next. And he hated that, as much as he felt anxious, he felt pleased to see his body so exposed, so close in front of him. 

“I need to be honest.” Soo-ho said. His voice landed heavy in the space between them, and Si-eun felt like he could see his own breath failing to reach his lungs. “I need to get this thing off my chest.”

Si-eun’s left hand squeezed involuntarily. He gripped the bottle of antiseptic so hard that it slipped through his fingers, falling gracelessly on the ground. Si-eun’s heart beat loudly in his ear as Soo-ho approached him slowly. As he did so, Si-eun’s back touched the bathroom’s counter, cold and hard marble, not nearly enough to handle his apprehension. 

“I’ve been meaning to confess to you.” Soo-ho murmured. His voice came out so low, like an intimate whisper only for Si-eun to hear. Yet, it sounded so loud, like it was the last thing he was ever going to hear at all. “But I didn’t know how to do it.”

“Confess?”

Soo-ho’s hands moved to settle on both his sides by the counter. Si-eun felt his lungs compress, his legs give in just slightly. Soo-ho approached him even more, and he saw himself obliged to sit on the counter, his eyes now perfectly aligned with Soo-ho’s. The eyes of a starving man. A guilty man. But a man with no regrets. 

“Everything that came to mind seemed bad, or just not enough. Nothing I could ever come up with was enough for you. For the love I have for you.” Soo-ho went on, his eyes fixed on Si-eun as if he wanted to eat each of his features. And Si-eun’s mouth opened at the sound of that word; it slipped out of his lips so easily, like the most obvious fact. “I tried to do it on my birthday, but you vanished.” 

He said it with a tone of anger, but Si-eun knew it wasn’t aimed at him. Even so, he felt self-conscious enough to shrink, trying futilely to move away.

But Soo-ho only came closer. They were breathing the same air, their eyes channeling each other, dark brown and dilated. 

“Later, I learned why.” And it was painful. So, so painful. For both of them. They knew. Soo-ho threw yet another pointed stare at his right arm. “Soon enough, it became clear to me how I should confess. I had finally found something worth displaying the depths of what I feel.” 

Soo-ho’s right hand, which was resting on the counter beside Si-eun’s thigh, lifted slowly until it reached Si-eun’s soft cheek. It was warm and sticky with blood that hadn’t been cleaned yet, smearing Si-eun’s skin with dark red and the smell of metal. Si-eun’s whole body shuddered at the sensation, his lips trembling and his stomach rolling. He thought it was his skin crawling from the disgust, from the filth of it. But he knew better. Si-eun knew better, and as the shivers ran up his spine, so did shame, filling him from head to toe.

He was shaking from the arousal of having Soo-ho’s hands on him. 

And when he finally confessed, with his red, red lips on his ear, Si-eun felt the first tear fall down his bloody cheek.

“So I went there and killed them all for you.”

Si-eun gulped, the scent and taste of blood now everywhere. So it was true.

I killed them, he said. I killed them all for you. 

Soo-ho’s hand shifted, returning to its former place on the counter. The yellowish marble was now smudged with red, the color almost brown under the dim light. Si-eun felt his throat tighten at the expense of his perturbed thoughts, his blood running on high pressure. Disoriented, he searched for any dishonesty in Soo-ho’s eyes, desperate for that to be just a silly joke, a prank, something he was doing to purposefully frighten him. 

But he could only find the utmost sincerity; there was truth to what he said about his heinous crimes, and there was truth about what he said about how he loved Si-eun so much. 

“Soo-ho… That’s not-” He stuttered, his voice an octave higher and shaking with tension. “You… You killed them?”

The disbelief must have been obvious in Si-eun’s usually-so-nonchalant face, for Soo-ho settled his red tainted hands on each side of his hips, as if to prove that he was there, and he was real — so was the blood, the killings, and the love. The love, which was the reason behind all of it. The love, and the hate. 

“All of them.” Came Soo-ho’s rough reply. His breath tickled Si-eun’s collarbone in a hot jet of air, and he felt his traitorous body give away to shivers once again. “One by one…” The taller boy continued, his eyes tracing a road from Si-eun’s jawline to the place where his neck met his shoulder. “Until there were none left.” His conclusion made Si-eun’s teeth clench, his nose fighting the mere act of breathing. 

He shouldn’t be enjoying Soo-ho’s presence, his warm and sticky touch on his formerly unblemished skin. He shouldn’t be allowing himself to become an accomplice to his atrocities. And yet, when Soo-ho approached his face to his neck, Si-eun’s hands came to rest on his naked shoulders, feeling his skin burn against his, even through the cast. His fingers curled over tanned flesh, and there was a strange pleasure to see the sweat and the dirt mixed with blood from cuts earned so rightfully. 

Sensing his implied permission, Soo-ho’s lips — those Si-eun had silently admired ever since their first interactions — touched lightly the skin of the curve of his jawline, just below his ear. Si-eun tightened his grip on him and let out a breathless whimper, feeling immediately ashamed. When Soo-ho’s light touch became more forceful and his lips opened to give him kisses, Si-eun’s left hand moved on instinct to his scalp, his fingers anchoring on the short hairs still wet from sweat. 

It seemed that shame was addictive. Shame was the way those pleasant tingles ran through his spine all the way to the tip of his toes. Shame was the way he was fighting moans as Soo-ho’s lips kissed and sucked his skin, leaving bruises in the shape of his teeth. Shame was the way he didn’t mind the state of his undress and felt the itch to take off his clothes as well. Shame was the way he wanted Soo-ho’s hands to move, either up or down. Shame was the way he was so, so relieved that he loved him too. 

And shame was the fact that deep down, he knew, he didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind any of that. Nothing else mattered as long as he got to have Soo-ho like this, in his arms.

And, overtaken by all that shame, he tried to pull apart. 

“Wait, Soo-ho!” He pushed the other boy’s heavy body, but didn’t make him go that far. His hands were gripping his hips possessively, in such a way that if Soo-ho went down, Si-eun went down with him. Somehow, that made a lot of sense in his head; it was only fair. “Why did you do this? How could you do this?”

Soo-ho’s countenance darkened. His eyes carried a seriousness when he retrieved his weak stare. If Soo-ho knew that he was just trying to remain sane amidst that grave confession, he didn’t show. He just took his question seriously, as he did with everything that regarded Si-eun. 

“You can’t be asking me that.” He scoffed. It was a sardonic type of smile, the evil kind, with no trace of amusement. “They hurt you.” Soo-ho said, firmly like an order. It was a fact, they both knew, and Si-eun had no point in trying to dismiss or belittle it. “I did it because they hurt you.” It’s as simple as that.

Si-eun’s breath caught in his throat. Soo-ho was looking at him like he could see his soul through his pupils. He was so close that Si-eun could see the way his eyes seemed lighter, could see the shape of his eyelid and the little mole on his left eye. So close that he could kiss him if he wanted to. 

“But Soo-ho,” He tried to get rid of that line of thought immediately. “that’s going too far.”

Soo-ho frowned even more, his body heat and his threatening expression molding Si-eun into a skittish, submissive being cradled by the feeling of his hands on his hips. It was pathetic. It was alluring. And Si-eun really, really wanted to kiss him. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Soo-ho sounded indignant, but in a way that carried a fondness, a tension through the tip of his fingers. There was charged electricity in his gaze, and Si-eun’s mouth watered. “You don’t seem to understand.” Perhaps it was the way his right hand went slowly up his chest, or the way his left one teased his side, tickling his skin. Or maybe it was his warm breath against his own chapped lips, his eyes so filled with intensity, with pent up desire. The tension was of an emotional nature, a frustration that had been building for a while. But it was also sexual in its entirety, with the way Soo-ho’s fingers found the red and sensitive skin of Si-eun’s nipples, making him open his mouth slightly in a timid gasp. 

It was the way Soo-ho got Si-eun hypnotized, his eyes glued on his when he said:

“You should’ve known, Si-eun. You should-ve known I’d cross the line for you.”

Their lips finally touched. Si-eun didn’t know how desperate he was for it to happen until it did, didn’t know how willing he was to beg for it, and cry for Soo-ho’s fingers to touch him just the right way. 

His hands gripped him tighter on the back of his neck, chasing some sort of support. Suddenly his free hand went up to Soo-ho’s black hair, grasping it like he was drowning at sea and he was his only lifeline. Soo-ho’s expert tongue teased his bottom lip at the same time that his fingers pinched his left nipple, the pleasurable soreness adding fuel to their kiss. When Si-eun opened his mouth to moan, Soo-ho bit his bottom lip and invaded Si-eun’s senses with the wet feeling of his tongue. And Si-eun wondered, amidst the messy sway of their lips and the contact of their warm flesh, if Soo-ho could taste the blood too.

“All for you. I would do it all for you.” He mumbled in between kisses, the noise of their lips touching making Si-eun feel all sorts of heat in his lower body. “I would die, I would kill. I would rob and I would lie.” Soo-ho went on, his mouth moving almost violently against Si-eun’s red and puffy lips, eventually kissing his cheeks, not minding the blood that he traced there with his hands. “I would give all my money, I’d go on a hunger strike.” And then his lips met the tip of his nose, the crease between his eyebrows. Soon enough, they returned to his neck, and Si-eun let out a sigh. “I’d bleed myself to death.” Both his hands were now playing with his nipples, Si-eun’s moans sounding like music to Soo-ho’s ears. “All for you, babe. I’d do it all for you.” 

He sounded insane, driven by some unknown force. As Soo-ho played with the string of his sweatpants, his mouth trailing kisses all over his neck, Si-eun felt intoxicated by that same unknown force; and he thought, idly, that Soo-ho had never looked so good, smeared from head to toe with their bullies’ blood. 

“Can’t you see, Si-eun-ah?” He asked, still fumbling with his pants, asking silently for permission. “Can’t you see how much I love you?” 

Si-eun didn’t know what gave it away. He didn’t know if it was that infamous four letter word, or if it was the warmth of Soo-ho’s fingers on his skin. He didn’t know if it was the way his pores dilated with his mere touch, or if it was his own emotions, trapped inside him for so long. 

He just knew that once Soo-ho looked him in the eyes, he understood. He understood his desire, because it reflected his own. And when he pulled his clothes down, Si-eun didn’t protest, didn’t flinch in surprise. It was as if whatever was his, was Soo-ho’s too. His body would be no different. 

He did, however, feel embarrassed to have Soo-ho’s eyes staring at such intimate parts of him. He hadn’t realized that he was already half-hard, and the release of the pressure of his underwear and sweatpants made it easier for him to feel his blood pulsing, to feel the wetness of his red and swollen tip. It was mortifying, and he was almost asking for Soo-ho to stop staring when he turned his face upward, revealing the softest expression he had ever seen adorn his features. 

Gone was that murderous intensity. Now there was only lust, and fondness, and the wish to make Si-eun his, if only by the union of their bodies.

His hand pulled the hem of his shirt rather insistently. Si-eun, whose eyes were fixed on Soo-ho’s, raised his arms robotically, allowing Soo-ho to take off his shirt. Now, completely naked, he felt the urge to cover himself under Soo-ho’s excessively admiring look. His arms shrunk and twitched to cross over his abdomen, but Soo-ho’s hands went back to their rightful place on his body, his touch leaving a warmth so great that Si-eun felt like he was catching a fever. There were no words for him left to say; there were only Soo-ho’s loving eyes on his, his lips on his neck, his hands on his hips and caressing him lower and lower.

“You’re so beautiful.” Soo-ho whispered in his ear as his hands painted him red. Si-eun’s hands came to rest on his neck again, and he hoped he hadn’t noticed that the hairs in his body had risen just with the sound of his voice. 

But Soo-ho was a man on a mission, and he treated his ministrations lower, kissing his way down Si-eun’s neck to his collarbone, making sure to suck and bruise the tender skin. Every moan that came out of Si-eun’s swollen mouth went straight to Soo-ho’s cock, and every trace of Soo-ho’s tongue through Si-eun’s skin made him feel about to burst, that white wetness beginning to form. 

His hands had to keep up with Soo-ho, and so they eventually ended up on the top of his head. When Soo-ho licked his nipple, his fingers tightened over the strands, pulling it roughly as he sucked them, one after the other. Tears welled in the corner of Si-eun’s eyes, and he felt pathetic. Delighted, but pathetic still. When he realized that his nipples were probably smudged with blood from Soo-ho’s exploring hands, he felt himself getting harder. And in the midst of his arousal, he couldn’t bother to keep track of his moral compass. Morality wouldn’t change whatever had been done, neither would it change the direction of Soo-ho’s lips.

When he was close to his abdomen, teasing the line that led to his manhood, he pulled Si-eun’s hips forward, making him bend in an uncomfortable angle on the counter. Si-eun kept his surprised exclamations to himself, but couldn’t contain his nervousness when Soo-ho avoided his hard cock completely and went further south. 

“Wait, Soo-ho…!” He gripped his hair tightly, wishing that he would comply with his embarrassment. He had never been touched that way — had never been touched there, specifically —, and yet, Soo-ho would dare to be the very first. 

“Shh, relax.” His voice was sultry and provocative, backfiring in its soothing goal. His hands, though, were warm against his inner thighs as he held them still, challenging Si-eun’s will to close them and hide. “Everything’s fine. I’ll make it good to you baby, I promise.” 

To make his intentions clear, Soo-ho kissed the places just above his hands, purposefully bruising the tender and hot skin, making Si-eun tremble in his place, bent at his mercy. There was a stern voice in the back of his mind that warned him not to fall for any endearing terms or calloused touches, but Si-eun was far too gone to listen. 

It was when he felt a wet, hot tongue teasing his rim that he realized, this is really happening. 

He let out an embarrassing sound, a bizarre mix of a shriek and a moan, and his hands tightened impossibly more over Soo-ho’s hair. If he wasn’t so invested and concentrated on the feeling of Si-eun’s soft entrance on his tongue, Soo-ho might have complained about the pain on his scalp. But amidst all that desire, it only helped to fuel his arousal, his overall excitement. 

Si-eun, on the other hand, felt like he was going to explode in flames. The feel of Soo-ho’s warm tongue licking incessantly between his thighs brought him a type of pleasure that he had never thought possible. Soo-ho traced his eager ministrations with open mouthed kisses, the slurping, sucking sound of it making Si-eun feel devoured, shamelessly eaten like Soo-ho’s last meal.

His moans were oblivious to his own ears as all he could pay attention to was Soo-ho’s black mop of hair between his legs, his head moving along with the insistence of his tongue, toying with his entrance. The scene was promiscuous in the most explicit way, and that only made Si-eun want to open his legs even further for Soo-ho to eat him out as he pleased. He could feel his blood pulsing in his nether regions, the redness of his swollen cock and his puffy hole making him twitch with every move of Soo-ho’s wet mouth. His wrinkled walls were contracting before he could even comprehend his own body responses; it didn’t take long for Soo-ho to bridge whatever barrier was keeping them apart, and when his scorching hot tongue finally entered him, Si-eun let the most embarrassingly loud groan of his life.

“Soo-ho!” He yelped, his hands unable to maintain still, grasping the counter, and then Soo-ho’s head, then his shoulder. His cock was harder than ever now, leaking precum, still untouched. “Soo-ho, oh my god.” 

Si-eun felt like crying. He had never felt anything like that in his life; the feeling of someone holding him so close, being surrounded so deeply by another person’s warmth, to have a warm tongue tasting him from inside out, massaging his tight, puckered walls like the greatest meal on the planet. He felt lightheaded, as if he was about to faint. And Soo-ho just kept going, like that was his goal all along; to kill Si-eun with his tongue alone.

“Soo-ho, please…” Si-eun struggled to keep his teary eyes under control. He felt like a volcano about to erupt, the wetness in his body building a pressure so deep that could spill at any minute. Soo-ho, sensing the desperation in his voice, took his teasing tongue out of its cage, and Si-eun wanted to whine and cry and beg for him to please-

“Please what?” He asked, the sadistic motherfucker. He had a cocky smirk on his bruised lip, the plumpness of it red from so much kissing and sucking and licking and Si-eun was going to lose his goddamn mind. “Use your words, darling.”

Just how many pet names does he have on his sleeve? Si-eun wondered. And then, realizing that it made no sense to be so shy when he was bent over erotically for Soo-ho’s own satisfaction, he decided to be honest.

After all, Soo-ho had been honest too. For the good and for the bad.

“Please don’t stop.” He hated how whiny he sounded, how desperate and needy like he was nothing more than a vessel for pleasure. A slut, he thought. I could be a slut for Soo-ho. Only for Soo-ho. “Please fuck me.”

Soo-ho smiled almost menacingly at that. There was no doubt in his mind: that was the best view his eyes had ever been graced to see. Si-eun, bent up and open by his hands, which seemed abnormally big amidst his thick thighs; his eyes glassy and pleading, his mouth swollen and red from kissing, his hole pink, opening and closing erratically, just waiting for Soo-ho to fill him up. He never wanted that moment to end; he wanted to keep it frozen on his mind forever.

But he had an eager boy right under him. Si-eun’s legs twisted, trying to move him closer. His throat let out a faint whine, almost like a feline purr. Soo-ho was done playing; he had waited for too long, had kept his burning desire locked up until it consumed him, until it turned into blood in his hands.

“Well…” He mumbled, surprised by how raspy his voice sounded. He could still taste Si-eun on his tongue, wet and hot and delicious, just like he imagined. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He got rid of his jeans and underwear frenetically, almost destroying the zipper and ripping the textures apart. To have any barrier between him and Si-eun right now seemed blasphemous; and as his cock spring free of its confines, its head almost purple from so much pent up desire, he thought he heard Si-eun sigh.

He teased the head of his cock over Si-eun’s tender entrance, sliding up and down, letting him feel his shaft and get accustomed to the length. But deep down, he knew he just wanted to hear Si-eun’s little breathless whines, see him pouting and groaning for him to hurry up. And as Si-eun did exactly that, Soo-ho dropped his hands to rest firmly on his hips, and bent down to kiss his forehead in understanding.

“Be patient, love.” He kissed his sweaty bangs, and moved to press his lips on the tip of his lovely button nose. God, I love him so much. “This might hurt a bit.”

“I don’t care.” Si-eun replied through gritted teeth, surprisingly fierce as he sunk his nails on the taller male’s shoulder. Soo-ho’s cock twitched in interest, and his hand moved to steady it. “Just do it. Do it, please.”

The desperation in the raspiness of his voice; his fingers holding him for dear life; the puffy redness of his nipples; his tearful eyes; his swollen pink cheeks. Soo-ho didn’t have to be told twice. He had to make that boy his. 

Without any second thoughts, he pushed his head inside. Si-eun bit his lower lip, and Soo-ho shushed him with a kiss. Si-eun tapped him on the shoulder, and Soo-ho knew what it meant. Hurry up, go on, hurry up. Such an eager boy.

He pushed a little more, reaching halfway through his length. But what seemed to be making Si-eun moan and sigh so profoundly was the wide girth of it, the thickness making Si-eun feel all the more tight around him, squeezing so much that it almost hurt. He was so warm inside, like dripping honey, and Soo-ho knew for sure that that was what heaven felt like. Heaven was having Si-eun like this, taking him in like a good boy, moaning in his ears like he had no idea how sensual he could sound. It was the salt of his sweat and the permission to lick his tears of his cheek, to feel the taste of his soft skin, to bite him and shove his cock so deep until he shifted with the force of his thrust, a cry stuck in the back of his throat, his heat consuming him, his cock hard and wet sliding against his abdomen. And his virginity on the palm of his hands, just like the slashed flesh of their bullies. It was only fair.

“Soo-ho… Hmm!” He swallowed Si-eun’s moans. He stood still for a few seconds, kissing him silly and distracting him from whatever pain he could be feeling. But the boy seemed to be enjoying himself, pushing his hips against Soo-ho’s as if he wanted to take him even deeper. Soo-ho tightened his hands on Si-eun’s hips, knowing it would leave a mark. This boy’s gonna be the death of me.

He pulled his dick all the way until only the tip was left inside him, and pushed in again with the same brutal force he did before, pausing just to hear Si-eun’s broken sobs from up close. He could sense the boy's irritation as the pressure built between them, could feel his precum sliding on his abdomen and the way he was losing the battle against his overwhelmed tears. He found out right then and there that he loved to tease him, loved to bring his beautiful boy to the edge just to break him again, and to savor his tears as he kissed him. Their dynamic was so natural, just like the way Si-eun engulfed him in his tight heat, just like their hands fit together perfectly intertwined. Them, together, flesh and blood, as natural as daylight.

“Soo-ho, please…” Si-eun whined again. Soo-ho bit his right cheek playfully, moving his hips slowly, barely moving a millimeter at a time. He was testing Si-eun’s patience as well as his own; there was nothing he wanted more than to pound him fast and hard until he came. But the vice grip he had on him was so pleasant, his walls so soft and hot all over him; it would be a shame not to appreciate it to the fullest.

“Please what, darling, you have to tell me.” His answer came slurred, much like the leisured snaps of his hips. Everytime he pushed forward, Si-eun’s breath hitched in a moan that sounded a lot like a hiccup, and Soo-ho’s breath got progressively more labored against the smaller boy’s ear.

“Please go harder.” Si-eun pleaded, his voice sounding breathless and downright sinful. Soo-ho only smiled wickedly at the aching desire in his words. It was the same desire that made him hard flesh, that went all the way to the tip of his fingers that grasped Si-eun’s beautiful tan skin, the one he had dreamed about so many times before. 

“Your wish is my command.” He chuckled, before setting a brutal pace. 

Si-eun’s hands fell from his shoulders to his biceps, his eyes widening and his mouth opening wide as Soo-ho entered him repeatedly, harder and faster than he could ever have imagined. His legs were being held by Soo-ho’s hands on the back of his knees, but he felt the urge to wrap them around his waist until they were no inch apart. He felt his toes curl and his head spin as Soo-ho touched a place inside him, his moans turning into high pitched wails as he begged, between tears, to do that again. Do that again, please, right there.

He could hear Soo-ho’s cheeky laughter, feel his cock throbbing inside him as he pounded him violently, his tip brushing his prostate over and over again in an abusive rhythm. It was a bizarre combination of sensations, its very own paradox; the friction felt so good that it hurt, and Soo-ho’s thick heaviness sliding in and out of him hurt in a way that made Si-eun want to beg for more. He could feel a very specific place inside him burning deliciously, sending waves of tingles through his body, leaving his body through his tears, moans and precum.

“Look at you…” Soo-ho groaned, his voice sounding like that of a hungry animal. He paused his merciless rhythm to observe, mesmerized, how his thick cock disappeared inside of Si-eun’s tight entrance, slowly and repeatedly. Si-eun was happy to be able to breathe again, but couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed at the calmer pace. Still, the squelching, sticky sound of Soo-ho’s cock sliding inside him was hypnotizing, alluringly so, and he felt his cheeks burn as soon as Soo-ho opened his mouth again. “You take me so well.” 

His hips trembled with the praise, and Soo-ho moaned loudly when Si-eun squeezed him, clenching around his length in a vice grip. The taller boy smirked, staring at Si-eun’s mortified face with a victorious grin. 

“My beautiful boy.” He went on, his voice sweet like syrup as he praised his love, moving his hips slightly faster at each compliment. He could feel Si-eun’s walls tightening around him every single time, his moans becoming insistent and whiny. “Perfect, perfect boy.” His hips snapped forward, and Si-eun’s body bounced on the counter. He couldn’t even feel the discomfort of the marble against his back when he was being fucked so good. “You take me so well.”

Si-eun’s hands flew over to the back of Soo-ho’s neck in desperation as his thrusts picked up pace once again. The smacking sound of their skins colliding was an erotic paradise, fueling Si-eun’s arousal to its higher level. With his hands laced on Soo-ho’s neck, he pulled himself forward, attaching his legs over the other boy’s hips and kissed him with all the desire he could muster, his tongue searching for Soo-ho’s like one’s lungs would search for air. 

“And to think… That those guys dared to touch you.” Soo-ho’s voice reached Si-eun’s ears like a distant sound, as if he was underwater. His vision was blurred and wet, and all he could feel was the delicious friction of their bodies, and how Soo-ho was wonderfully thick inside him, making him feel like putty in his hands. They kissed again, so many times that Si-eun couldn’t count, but Soo-ho kept on rambling whenever they parted. “To think that they dared to hurt you.” His breath was hot against his neck, and the way the words came slurred and breathless almost blinded Si-eun from Soo-ho’s rage. Almost. “No one touches my baby. No one hurts my love. They got what they deserved.”

At this point, Soo-ho’s thrusts were getting erratic. His hands, so strongly attached to Si-eun’s small waist, were now moving with the ferocity of his hips. Si-eun’s moans were watery now, and if Soo-ho wasn’t so busy devouring his mouth, he’d say he was sobbing. As much as he wanted their coupling to last forever, his need for release was getting all the more evident; and if the rhythm of Si-eun’s breathing and his frequent cries could tell him anything, was that he was close too. 

“Come for me.” He whispered, a desperate plea in Si-eun's ear, and something inside him snapped like a rubberband. “Come for me, Si-eun.” 

Si-eun’s hands trembled against Soo-ho’s scalp, his toes curled and his hips shook violently as ropes of cum landed in between their bodies. His eyes were closed tight and his mouth wide open, enough for Soo-ho to bite on his bottom lip like he enjoyed so much to do. And all the while, Soo-ho was still deep inside him, moving and marking him, ruining him for anyone else. 

“I’m not done with you.” He said, kissing his neck one second and pulling him out of the counter in another. Si-eun’s surprised gasp was swallowed by Soo-ho’s tongue filled kiss, and he didn’t even register that they were moving, his mouth too busy moving against Soo-ho’s lips to appreciate the way he could carry him so easily. 

He was blissfully unaware for just shy under a minute, when Soo-ho settled him on the couch. The shift made Soo-ho slip out of him and Si-eun groaned in discontent. Not even his orgasm seemed to satiate him; he wanted Soo-ho inside him, unable to escape that feeling once he came to know how it felt like to be so connected to the boy he loved, so deeply led into oblivion by his perfect cock and his perfect hips and his perfect mouth. 

He didn’t know why Soo-ho had moved them, and was about to complain when he was manhandled into his hands and knees, on all fours in front of Soo-ho, his spent cock hanging between his legs and his abused hole clenching on nothing. He felt that familiar embarrassment take hold of him, but it quickly vanished when Soo-ho filled him again. They both moaned shamelessly loud, and Si-eun vaguely wondered if the neighbors could hear them. A part of him wanted them to; wanted the world to know that Soo-ho was his, and he was Soo-ho’s, and that was just the way it was.

“You should’ve seen the look on their faces,” He heard Soo-ho’s voice amidst his heavy thrusts. That angle made him reach exceptionally deep, as if Si-eun was able to swallow him completely and make him fit into him in a perfect union. “when I told them I was there because of you. You should’ve seen how scared they looked when I killed them.”

Si-eun couldn’t think any longer, all his rational thoughts replaced by the feel of Soo-ho’s cock brushing against his abused prostate, the warm and wet feeling of his precum filling him slowly. Soon enough, he couldn’t bear to add another weight on his broken arm, and so he lowered his head to the couch, just enjoying the feeling of being so deliciously pounded by Soo-ho. The grip he had on his hips was starting to hurt, but Si-eun was looking forward to the marks, and to remember how they made love like wild animals on his bathroom counter, on his couch, all while Soo-ho confessed his murders to him.

“Some of them I killed with knives. Others I killed with my bare fist.” He went on, mumbling his killings as if it was some sort of dirty talk. Si-eun should feel disgusted, he should feel enraged. But all he could feel was bliss as Soo-ho smacked his asscheeks, incredibly aroused as he felt Soo-ho’s thrusts lose their rhythm, his cock swollen and desperate to release. “But that Woo-young fucker… He was a challenge.” He grunted, his left hand grabbing Si-eun’s head and pushing it even further on the couch, grabbing him by the hair, while the other smacked him repeatedly until his asscheeks were an angry red. Si-eun could feel his own cock dripping and realized he was hard again. 

“I smashed his head with one of his gym weights. I did it until his skull was completely destroyed and his brain was a dissolving, disgusting mass.” 

Si-eun’s eyes closed in reflex as Soo-ho’s hands grabbed his hair tight and pulled him forward. His hands pushed him up shakily, and Soo-ho embraced him by the abdomen, his mouth kissing his neck and his cock sliding quickly. Si-eun could feel his own cock bobbing up and down, that position bringing them closer, closer enough for Soo-ho to whisper:

“So I had to cut his head off from the rest of his body.” 

Si-eun whined, closing his eyes. He couldn’t stop him from saying that, couldn’t stop him from taking his pleasure, couldn’t stop him in any way. 

“And that’s what I did with everyone else. I cut them into tiny little pieces. Until there were none.”

Soo-ho shoved him back down, pulled his ass up until he was just a crying, pleading, begging creature on the couch, his tears pouring from the strength of Soo-ho’s fucking, the arousal making him tender and sensitive, but still so willing to give himself to Soo-ho, open wide. His fingers scratched the texture of the couch, his vision blurred. Soo-ho only had to touch his cock once for him to shoot another heavy load, staining the surface below him. Soo-ho groaned and tightened his grip on his hips, his pace brutal and searching only for his release. 

“Because no one hurts my love. No one gets to hurt you, Si-eun.”

It was with Si-eun’s name on his tongue that Soo-ho came. He tried to pull out, but Si-eun held him inside, gripping him with such force that it only spurred more come out of him. As Si-eun sighed against the couch, feeling Soo-ho’s warm essence filling him, warm and wet and sticky, he felt a morbid guilt settle in his heart. And as Soo-ho pulled him closer, turning him around so they could look at each other, he realized that he was guilty indeed.

Because learning that Soo-ho had gone after them to avenge him made his heart flutter. Because to know how he had brutally murdered them only to honor Si-eun’s sacrifice made his cock twitch and his ass grip him tighter. Because he was relieved that they were all gone from their lives, and all he wanted to do was to kiss Soo-ho until the end of his days, to have him snuggled inside, where he belonged, until the sun shined no longer.

And for that, he was as guilty as Soo-ho. They were both stained with blood, from head to toe, but Si-eun wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Soo-ho was panting, his toned chest filled with another layer of sweat, his wounds a sharp contrast to the scratches Si-eun had made on his shoulders. Si-eun liked to think that he also had a nice constellation of love bites on his neck and collarbones, but was far too hypnotized by Soo-ho’s breathing to care about anything else at all. Idly, he noticed the boy’s cum sliding out of him, and Soo-ho’s spent cock now on full display seeming far too delightful. Before he could do anything about it, however, Soo-ho climbed over him, caressing his hair and kissing his sweaty forehead. 

“Do you get it now?” He asked, looking at him from up close, holding him by the softness of his lips. The love in his eyes was genuine, warm and all consuming; and Si-eun thought: there's no way that this could be wrong. I love him, and he loves me, there’s no way that this could be wrong.

With that mantra in mind, determined to believe in the way his heart soared with Soo-ho’s mere presence, he caressed his handsome face, wiping sweat from his forehead and tracing the apples of his cheeks with an intense gaze. Once he had Soo-ho almost purring like a kitten in his hands, he said:

“Soo-ho, show me the bodies.”

They cleaned themselves up after their mess, and did their best to clean the spots of blood left in the bathroom and on the couch. The latter was a little more difficult to conceal, but Si-eun did his best with all the products they could find, and since his father wasn’t a man too attentive to detail and barely lived there, he was sure he’d never notice the tiny red spots that remained by the foot of the sofa. 

They got rid of Soo-ho’s dirty and ripped clothes, both agreeing that they were beyond saving. Si-eun tried to lend his clothes to Soo-ho, but was mortified to realize that they didn’t fit him enough to be comfortable. And so, extremely embarrassed, he told himself his dad wouldn’t mind if Soo-ho borrowed a few clothes from him. He barely lived there anyway.

Once they were settled, they hopped on Soo-ho’s motorcycle and headed to an abandoned area next to a polluted old lake in the Jungnang province. That lake used to be surrounded by slums in the 60s, but eventually the population migrated somewhere else, the economical conditions improved, and that neighborhood became mostly empty. 

Which meant that there were fewer chances that someone would walk by and see the bodies. They’d just assume it was trash. A putrid, decomposing, unbelievably smelly trash, but trash nonetheless. And if Soo-ho told them about who those bodies belonged to, everyone would agree: they were all trash indeed. Soo-ho did the world a favor by getting rid of them. 

Soo-ho’s hand grabbed his once they arrived. He looked at him with a particular crease of his eyebrows that told Si-eun that he was worried. He just squeezed his hand and nodded, telling him silently that he wouldn’t back out now. And so, Soo-ho guided him until they reached some high bushes, barely hidden by the presence of very tall trees. Si-eun noticed that they were standing in the beginning of a remote forest, untouched by the real estate industry. And the bodies — the bodies were there, collected in black trash bags, mutilated. 

Jeong-chan and Tae-hoon’s bodies were thrown together in one giant sac. Their heads held their terrified expression even separated from the rest of their bodies; their eyes seemed to speak, to ask for help before their imminent demise. Si-eun felt chills erupt through his body as he noticed the blood still flesh from the base of their necks, and couldn’t help but feel strange as he realized that he couldn’t differentiate their legs or their arms, not even their torsos; they were like the same being, who had just happened to have grown too many limbs. It reflected how both he and Soo-ho perceived them when they were alive: always together, two annoying brutes, who might’ve as well be the same person in different attires. And there they were, together in death, with the same terrified eyes begging to be set free.

Woo-young’s was next. His head was missing, probably because it had become just a gooey mass after being smashed so hard. What was left of it, Soo-ho got rid, as he told Si-eun when he noticed the discrepancy. Si-eun frowned, nagged him about safety, and Soo-ho assured him he had been careful, that he was creative while throwing his broken skull bones and his dismantled brain away. As for the rest of his body, it was pretty much like the other two: cut to pieces and arranged together in a plastic bag; his hands still had the markings on his knuckles from when he fought against Soo-ho, and his ankle was severely hurt, probably smashed with a gym weight too. 

Young-bin, though, didn’t have his head cut off, but it was hanging by his neck, which was brutally slashed. His eyes were open wide and his mouth didn’t close even after death, his usually so white teeth now smeared with red, the darkness making it seem dark as the black sky. Even with his hand twisted in a bizarre angle on his sliced left arm and the terror eternalized in his glassy eyes, Si-eun couldn’t feel an ounce of pity for him. He was, by far, the one he despised the most, and something akin to pride filled his chest when he noticed that, before dying, Soo-ho had made him suffer the same pain he had inflicted on Si-eun. His unharmed hand squeezed Soo-ho’s tighter, and he knew he understood. 

But none of those dead bodies managed to take Si-eun’s breath away quite like Oh Beom-seok’s. 

His expression was calm, blissed even, as if he was just taking a nap. His eyes were closed, but his cheeks shone with dried tears, which betrayed his conflicted emotions just before death. The tranquility that he portrayed, however, stirred something in Si-eun that almost made him curse in indignation. How dare he? How dare he die in peace? After all he had done, how dare he?

But it also made his chest ache, his eyes tingle. His hand slipped from Soo-ho’s grasp, and he caught himself walking to Beom-seok’s decapitated head, wishing that he would open his eyes and talk to him, that he would tell him why. Why, and I’m sorry.  

All of that could be avoided if he had just said sorry. 

Instead, Beom-seok had layers that Si-eun and Soo-ho couldn’t access. He had old scars, deep wounds and a severely hurt mentality, a twisted way of feeling, because that was the only way he was taught how to feel. Love was pain, violence was the direct response for any disagreement, and his insecurity could only take him so far. So if death was the price to pay for his pride, then so be it; death would be preferable, actually. Si-eun should’ve known he was tired.

Perhaps that was why he looked so peaceful, as if he had been finally put to rest. As if, instead of an apology, Soo-ho had been granted a thank you, instead.

“Do you resent me for it?” Soo-ho’s question pulled him out of his thoughts. There was no ultimate difference in Beom-seok’s mutilated body parts that would make him stare for any longer than necessary. When Si-eun looked back at Soo-ho, he seemed to be evaluating his life decisions. “Do you wish it was me?”

Do you wish it was me instead? Do you wish I hadn’t done anything and had paid the price for not crossing the line?

“No.” Si-eun answered immediately. He hadn’t realized that he was frowning, the mere possibility of that being true sending him into an immense amount of anxiety. Sensing Soo-ho’s unease, he held his hand in his again, looking him in the eye. “Never.” 

Soo-ho relaxed under his touch, and pulled him closer into a hug. He rested his chin on the top of his head, breathing the cold air as they were enveloped by the silence and the darkness of the night. 

After a few minutes, Soo-ho spoke:

“I think we should get rid of these bodies. Pretend we have never met them. Any of them.” 

Si-eun knew things wouldn’t be as easy as that. He knew their families would want to know, he knew the investigation would eventually reach them and knock on his apartment door. He knew that every minute now they could be caught, and their futures were a gamble with fate. 

But now, surrounded by Soo-ho’s warmth and feeling his kiss on his temple, Si-eun was willing to endure whatever came their way. He would fight whoever he needed to fight, and he would let Soo-ho kiss his wounds, would let him inside his body again, like it was meant to be. He would enjoy every second by his side, let him write his DNA on his skin, because Soo-ho was alive, and he reciprocated his feelings, so nothing was wrong. There was no way any of that could be wrong.

“I’ll help you only if you kiss me.” Si-eun pouted, his neck curving to look at his lover.

Soo-ho chuckled, his arms tightening around his waist. 

“You brat.” 

So come my love, come to me

Hug me slowly

Kiss me and make me forget