masquer
Pairing: suchen
Rating: R
Genre: mask!au
Length: 960 words
Warnings: [click to open]
gore
Summary: There's a reason why Suho's eyes itch.
Today he is Suho.
Ten years ago he was Minseok. Twenty-nine years ago he was Jongin. Seventy-four years ago he was Zitao.
There are wrinkles in his memories because time folds in on itself. But he’s certain at one time-decades, centuries, millenia ago, he can’t really tell-he was once a man named Kim Junmyeon, and that had been his first identity.
But today he is Suho.
Suho’s body is decent, for the most part. Average height, better-than-average face. The only qualm he has is that sometimes he loses control of his face, so he makes weird expressions at the worst moments. But hey, no body’s perfect.
Except Jongdae comes pretty close. Jongdae could pluck stars right out of the sky, and they wouldn’t burn his fingertips. Suho’s sure of this.
“Why are you doing this?” Jongdae whines.
Suho blinks. His eyes are itchy. “What?”
Jongdae gestures to the elegant spread before them. Oh, that’s right. They’re at some upscale restaurant, the kind that has a coat-check and fancy appetizers with random French words inserted in them.
“You’ve been blanking out all night. Is anything wrong?” Jongdae asks. Although the corners of his mouth naturally tilt upwards, his lips are now pressed in a thin line.
“It’s nothing.” Except Suho’s eyes are itchy.
Jongdae draws his face closer, squinting his eyes in scrutiny. “You’re a shitty liar.”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
Suho avoids looking at Jongdae, choosing to call over the server.
“Do you need anything?” she asks.
“No,” Jongdae says.
Suho clears his throat. “What do you recommend for dessert?”
As the server launches into a prebaked speech about French cuisine and how the French are so good at being French, Jongdae taps the base of his wine glass in an agitated rhythm. The server mistakes this as a cue to refill his drink. She scurries away after Jongdae bursts out “crème caramel” just to get her to shut up and leave.
“What’s wrong with you?” Suho asks.
Jongdae sniffs. “Me? You’re the one hiding something.”
Suho’s eyes itch. Itchy, itchy, itchy.
“You can tell me, you know,” Jongdae presses.
Suho sighs, as if he realizes he can’t hide anything without facing the wrath that is Jongdae.
“I’ve been stressed out about work,” Suho says. “We’re negotiating with another company over high-value assets, and the future of my career depends on the outcome.”
He spews some more business bullshit, and Jongdae eats it all up, along with the crème caramel the server brings to their table. Suho, on the other hand, finds that the lie ruins the flavor of the dessert. He lets Jongdae finish the rest.
When they get back home, Jongdae insists that Suho get some rest, and Suho agrees. He lets himself be tucked into bed, and Jongdae whispers in Suho’s ear that he’ll sleep in the guest room for tonight since he has to wake up early tomorrow and doesn’t want to disturb his sleep.
The door clicks, and Suho’s alone with the darkness. Buried alive in blankets, he’s sweating and shivering all at once. He rubs his eyelids for the rest of the night in a futile attempt to appease the itch.
Itchy, itchy, itchy.
When he wakes up with clouds still floating in his head, he yawns, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. That’s when he notices his crimson fingers. There are chunks of flesh underneath his fingernails and strips of pale skin sprinkled all over his pillow.
Now fully awake, Suho checks the mirror, and he sees angry streaks of crimson marring the white canvas of his face. He seems to have clawed half of it off during the night. After ripping the sheets off of him, he hisses when newly formed scabs are torn away with the cloth. Pain, an immense pain courses through his body. But the itch is worse.
Every time he shifts or twitches, his skin sloughs off in meaty slabs. When he jerks his elbow, his joint dislocates. This body has expired.
Moaning, he digs his dirty fingernails into the flesh still intact and slowly peels Suho away. His eyes itch. He starts clawing at those too. Everywhere, everywhere is itchy.
Yesterday he was Suho. Today he is Junmyeon.
The door bursts open.
“I heard you moaning from the other room. Are you oka-oh my god.”
Jongdae’s face goes pale as he takes in the sight, sees the carnage sitting on Suho’s blood-stained bed. For the first time since they’ve met, Jongdae has nothing to say. He tries talking, tries to wring words out of his throat, but they come out in croaks.
Finally, Jongdae screams.
Junmyeon hates screaming. He hated it when Suho screamed, he hated it when Minseok screamed, he hated it when Jongin screamed, he hated it when Zitao screamed, and he hates it when Jongdae screams.
Junmyeon howls, a horrible, lonely screech that spills onto the floor and snakes around Jongdae’s ankles. Jongdae tries to escape, to break free from this nightmare.
But this isn’t a nightmare. This is reality. This is today.
Jongdae’s limbs have this satisfying crunch that makes Junmyeon shiver in delight. Finally, finally, the screaming dies down.
Junmyeon salivates when he picks out the meat from inside Jongdae’s carcass. The intestines are so fresh; they’re truly incomparable, by far tastier than crème caramel. He groans in pleasure as he gnaws off a tendon from one of the bones. Euphoria coats his tongue.
When he’s finished cleaning out Jongdae, Junmyeon admires the leftover skin. His heart flips when he realizes Jongdae was a perfect match for him all along. Junmyeon easily slips into the skin, fills in the gaps, and assumes his new identity, his new mask.
Today he is Jongdae, and his eyes aren’t itchy anymore.
A/N: Their teaser mv is coming out on the same day as my stats exam... Sighs into infinity.
Rating: R
Genre: mask!au
Length: 960 words
Warnings: [click to open]
gore
Summary: There's a reason why Suho's eyes itch.
Today he is Suho.
Ten years ago he was Minseok. Twenty-nine years ago he was Jongin. Seventy-four years ago he was Zitao.
There are wrinkles in his memories because time folds in on itself. But he’s certain at one time-decades, centuries, millenia ago, he can’t really tell-he was once a man named Kim Junmyeon, and that had been his first identity.
But today he is Suho.
Suho’s body is decent, for the most part. Average height, better-than-average face. The only qualm he has is that sometimes he loses control of his face, so he makes weird expressions at the worst moments. But hey, no body’s perfect.
Except Jongdae comes pretty close. Jongdae could pluck stars right out of the sky, and they wouldn’t burn his fingertips. Suho’s sure of this.
“Why are you doing this?” Jongdae whines.
Suho blinks. His eyes are itchy. “What?”
Jongdae gestures to the elegant spread before them. Oh, that’s right. They’re at some upscale restaurant, the kind that has a coat-check and fancy appetizers with random French words inserted in them.
“You’ve been blanking out all night. Is anything wrong?” Jongdae asks. Although the corners of his mouth naturally tilt upwards, his lips are now pressed in a thin line.
“It’s nothing.” Except Suho’s eyes are itchy.
Jongdae draws his face closer, squinting his eyes in scrutiny. “You’re a shitty liar.”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
Suho avoids looking at Jongdae, choosing to call over the server.
“Do you need anything?” she asks.
“No,” Jongdae says.
Suho clears his throat. “What do you recommend for dessert?”
As the server launches into a prebaked speech about French cuisine and how the French are so good at being French, Jongdae taps the base of his wine glass in an agitated rhythm. The server mistakes this as a cue to refill his drink. She scurries away after Jongdae bursts out “crème caramel” just to get her to shut up and leave.
“What’s wrong with you?” Suho asks.
Jongdae sniffs. “Me? You’re the one hiding something.”
Suho’s eyes itch. Itchy, itchy, itchy.
“You can tell me, you know,” Jongdae presses.
Suho sighs, as if he realizes he can’t hide anything without facing the wrath that is Jongdae.
“I’ve been stressed out about work,” Suho says. “We’re negotiating with another company over high-value assets, and the future of my career depends on the outcome.”
He spews some more business bullshit, and Jongdae eats it all up, along with the crème caramel the server brings to their table. Suho, on the other hand, finds that the lie ruins the flavor of the dessert. He lets Jongdae finish the rest.
When they get back home, Jongdae insists that Suho get some rest, and Suho agrees. He lets himself be tucked into bed, and Jongdae whispers in Suho’s ear that he’ll sleep in the guest room for tonight since he has to wake up early tomorrow and doesn’t want to disturb his sleep.
The door clicks, and Suho’s alone with the darkness. Buried alive in blankets, he’s sweating and shivering all at once. He rubs his eyelids for the rest of the night in a futile attempt to appease the itch.
Itchy, itchy, itchy.
When he wakes up with clouds still floating in his head, he yawns, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. That’s when he notices his crimson fingers. There are chunks of flesh underneath his fingernails and strips of pale skin sprinkled all over his pillow.
Now fully awake, Suho checks the mirror, and he sees angry streaks of crimson marring the white canvas of his face. He seems to have clawed half of it off during the night. After ripping the sheets off of him, he hisses when newly formed scabs are torn away with the cloth. Pain, an immense pain courses through his body. But the itch is worse.
Every time he shifts or twitches, his skin sloughs off in meaty slabs. When he jerks his elbow, his joint dislocates. This body has expired.
Moaning, he digs his dirty fingernails into the flesh still intact and slowly peels Suho away. His eyes itch. He starts clawing at those too. Everywhere, everywhere is itchy.
Yesterday he was Suho. Today he is Junmyeon.
The door bursts open.
“I heard you moaning from the other room. Are you oka-oh my god.”
Jongdae’s face goes pale as he takes in the sight, sees the carnage sitting on Suho’s blood-stained bed. For the first time since they’ve met, Jongdae has nothing to say. He tries talking, tries to wring words out of his throat, but they come out in croaks.
Finally, Jongdae screams.
Junmyeon hates screaming. He hated it when Suho screamed, he hated it when Minseok screamed, he hated it when Jongin screamed, he hated it when Zitao screamed, and he hates it when Jongdae screams.
Junmyeon howls, a horrible, lonely screech that spills onto the floor and snakes around Jongdae’s ankles. Jongdae tries to escape, to break free from this nightmare.
But this isn’t a nightmare. This is reality. This is today.
Jongdae’s limbs have this satisfying crunch that makes Junmyeon shiver in delight. Finally, finally, the screaming dies down.
Junmyeon salivates when he picks out the meat from inside Jongdae’s carcass. The intestines are so fresh; they’re truly incomparable, by far tastier than crème caramel. He groans in pleasure as he gnaws off a tendon from one of the bones. Euphoria coats his tongue.
When he’s finished cleaning out Jongdae, Junmyeon admires the leftover skin. His heart flips when he realizes Jongdae was a perfect match for him all along. Junmyeon easily slips into the skin, fills in the gaps, and assumes his new identity, his new mask.
Today he is Jongdae, and his eyes aren’t itchy anymore.
A/N: Their teaser mv is coming out on the same day as my stats exam... Sighs into infinity.