Angel - Oneshot
Title: Angel
Chapters: Oneshot
Pairing: Sehun/Luhan
Rating: R
Genre: Horror
Warnings: adult content, blood, gore, mild violence
Summary: Sehun has always said he looks like an angel. Luhan doesn't think much of it until he finds himself being dragged away to an undisclosed location one day, hands holding him down while his back begins to sting.
a/n: i know i should be working on requests but this just happened i’m sorry. also I have no idea whether this is G or R or NC-17 but I wanted to be safe. i thought i'd try something new! haven't really written horror before, so this is a little test run. but please, be careful when you read this.. also, i'm going to warn for many possible spelling or grammatical errors because i'm really tired and have probably missed them. enjoy!
The first thing Sehun tells him when they meet is that he looks like an angel. He tells him so with a stunned face and an open mouth, and Luhan finds him cute and chuckles at the remark, flattered at being compared to something of the sort.
Sehun is the awkward trainee he’s ended up rooming with as he prepares himself for possibly debuting in a boy band, training all day and all night and only getting breathers when he’s lying on his bed right before going to sleep, and that’s when they talk. They talk until dawn, even if it comes and bites them in the ass when they try to drag their butts out of bed in the morning, but honestly, Luhan wouldn't have it any other way.
Sehun is kind and is still young and he complains sometimes about a lot of things, but Luhan dotes on him and thinks he’s nothing short of adorable, even with his little antics. Especially with his little antics. They quickly grow close, and confide in each other when they go through rough patches or feel a little homesick, until they debut, and suddenly things get really hectic, and they get to spend less time together.
They talk sometimes at night, but it’s not long until they both knock out from exhaustion, and so half the things they’ve wanted to say to each other remains unsaid, and by the morning, forgotten.
They don’t even get to practice together much anymore, because Luhan has to train with his sub-unit and Sehun has to train with his own, their small practice rooms not big enough to host both groups. Luhan is upset that they don’t get to be in the same sub-group, but doesn’t whine about it, because he’s the older one, and Sehun isn’t whining about it at all. He does scrunch up his nose as they’re told to part though. Every time.
Somehow, even as they switch rooms and change countries and move around, they still manage to find some time to spend together. It’s through all these wild turns and flashing performances and quiet moments together that Luhan finds himself falling for Sehun. He falls for his altruism, the way he can trust him like nobody else, because Sehun always keeps his promises and secrets, and how he is just so genuine about everything he does and says. Like how he always tells Luhan he is beautiful, and that he really does look like and angel, and Luhan can tell he really means it, because there’s such an honest and disarming look in his eyes when they lock with Luhan’s and he tells him from time to time. Sehun always blushes, and Luhan feels his heart soar and a smile forming on his face at his childish way of voicing his affection. Maybe, perhaps, Sehun likes him too. But Luhan is always too shy to confront him about it, and just settles with thinking Sehun only really looks up to him, more like a guardian angel than anything else, and that Sehun is just a very honest person.
*
“Ready, hyung?”
Luhan looks up at Sehun’s hopeful face. In his hands he’s holding a DVD, one with a dark red cover, and Luhan nods his head and smiles up at him from the foot of his bed.
It’s movie night. Sundays are always movie night, and they've managed to keep up the tradition through the years. They watch a different type of movie every week, and this week they’re going for something a little heavy, apparently.
Constantine, it’s called. Luhan doesn’t mind horror, but he is surprised that Sehun has suggested it, as the younger usually goes for something more mainstream and action filled, like The Amazing Spider Man, which they watched last week.
They have Luhan’s laptop rigged up on a table, which they use as their mini movie theatre. Luhan is sitting at the edge of his bed, and Kris is out so they have the whole room to themselves. Sehun is sitting across from him in a chair, his feet up indian style. He holds out a bottle of soju to Luhan, who takes it in hand and swallows some down straight from the bottle, grinning at Sehun once he’s done and handing it back to him.
“Naughty maknae,” he comments as Sehun takes a swig of his own, setting the bottle down on the floor as he wipes his mouth. The younger just chuckles, shaking his head and leaning his head back with a wide grin plastered there.
The addition of alcohol to their movie nights is pretty recent, but Sehun has begged Luhan to try some, and so Luhan just ends up bringing a bottle with him from the kitchen every Sunday, making Sehun promise not to tell the others. Sehun swears on his Michael Bay movie collection, and so Luhan doesn’t worry too much about their little secret getting out.
They’re halfway into the movie, and Luhan can already feel his eyes getting tired from the strenuous staring at the little computer screen, and he yawns once, shifting to lay with his stomach down on the bed. He looks over to Sehun, who is leaning his head in his hand as it cocks sideways, looking at Luhan though he had expected him to be looking at the screen where the movie was reaching its climax.
Luhan raises an eyebrow at him questioningly, wondering if Sehun is about to ask him a question about the plot or if he has something on his face. Maybe the alcohol has made his eyes look weird.
“You look so pure in this light. Really angelic,” is all Sehun says, and Luhan’s breath catches in his throat in surprise. Sehun is eyeing him so sincerely that Luhan is taken off guard. His face must be a shade of deep red, because he can feel his cheeks burn, and it’s not from the alcohol. Sehun has been sounding so serious and genuine about these things lately that Luhan doesn’t know what to say back. He wants to tell Sehun that he is nothing close to an angel and that he is full of flaws and Sehun really shouldn’t be thinking so highly of him, but nothing ever comes out apart from a quiet ‘thank you’ as he looks away.
Sehun isn’t grinning childishly. His gaze is soft and Luhan tries to focus back on the movie, because his heart is beating really fast and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s so focused on the moving screen and his running thoughts that he doesn’t notice Sehun come and sit down next to him on the bed, eyes glued to him instead of the thrilling movie that’s playing right before them.
Luhan enjoys lying beside him, feeling his presence like a calming charm while he forces his eyes open to watch Keanu Reeves running around on screen. They sit like that for quite a while, and the movie comes to a close some time past midnight, Luhan already mentally reprimanding himself for the lack of sleep he’ll be getting for his busy day tomorrow.
“I’ll help you find yourself,” he hears Sehun say. Luhan turns the words over in his head a few times before he decides that he can’t make any sense of them, and turns to face Sehun with a mouth open and ready to question him, but before he knows it something comes up to cover his mouth and nose, and the last thing he remembers before he suddenly loses consciousness is the stagnant smell of chloroform that sends his mind into a dizzying downwards spiral with the soundtrack of Constantine playing in the background like a lullaby.
*
When he comes to everything is cold. He feels like he must be outside because the temperature is inhumanely freezing, but there isn’t even a slight mention or whisper of a breeze, and he thinks he’s sitting on something eerily familiar to concrete. It’s not until a few seconds have passed with him trying to re-identify all his senses that he realizes he’s naked; completely stripped to the bone, with a blindfold covering his eyes that’s making the world around him abysmally black. He feels his heart catch in his throat as he remembers chloroform and Sehun’s murmured words in his ears, and that he’s supposed to be in a warm bed right now, perhaps waking up to get ready for a performance or a few rigorous hours of practice until he can no longer stand on his feet.
But he’s nowhere near the familiar. He’s sitting on a cold floor with goosebumps running down his skin, no sound reaching his ears whatsoever to help him recognize his surroundings. He tries to shift his body a little, but he realizes his hands are bound in front of him with some sort of rope, and when he tries to move his feet he feels one of them tied to something that’s preventing him from budging from his spot on the floor, rooting him in place like an anchor.
He begins to panic, and suddenly he feels claustrophobic; trapped at all corners. He doesn’t know why he is naked, why he is bound and left alone, but he is.
He shouts Sehun’s name once, hoping this is nightmare or some sort of weird joke, but it does nothing but get absorbed by the walls he assumes he is surrounded with, and he’s left knowing that he is very alone. He tries to calm his breathing, taking deep breaths so as not to panic and end up hurting himself. After a while he shouts for Kris. He shouts for Suho. He shouts for everyone, twice, until his throat gets tired of the vocal strain refuses to try anymore. After the last name leaves his lips he starts crying, tears saturating his blindfold and slipping down his cheeks, making them sting and itch because of the cold, stale air he is exposed to.
Luhan sits there for a while in hopeless tears, not knowing what to do except for tug at his bound arms and restrained foot, whining slightly in frustration and swallowing back pathetic snivels and hiccups as his attempts amount to less than nothing. He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he came to consciousness, but he can hear his stomach rumbling and he feels weak, his body screaming for food the only way it knows how.
As he yanks his foot hard once in an attempt to release it from whatever is tying it down, he hears a door open and close and a lock click into place and then everything is just darkness and silence again, each more deafening and endless than the other.
He hears someone walking into the room and lifts his head as if it could help him sense who it is, his body shaking with fright. “Sehun?” He asks into the nothingness, but is met with more silence.
The person is walking towards him; Luhan can hear his shoes clunk against the floor, and it’s not long before the steps stop right in front of him.
He holds his breath; terrified. He’s been robbed of his senses and clothes, and he’s completely helpless on the ground, hands bound upfront and his foot to something that he assumed is a wall, and he has absolutely no idea what’s going to happen to him or why he isn’t at home.
As he tenses his body to prepare for a blow or a rough hand or something coming at him out of the blue, he feels a rather warm hand cup his cheek, a thumb stroking the skin there in repetitive motions. He stays dead still, focusing on the warm flesh against his own and not wanting to make any sudden movements in case he’ll draw forth a negative reaction from the person who is caressing his face.
“Sehun?” He asks again, because he has no idea who else it can be aside from him. Sehun’s voice was the last he’d heard before he passed out, and Sehun’s face is all he can remember while he’s sitting there on the cold floor. Sehun’s handsome and disarming face.
He calms down slightly once he realizes the hand isn’t doing him any harm and he feels it trail softly down his neck and over his bare shoulder, the touch light as a feather, as if afraid he might break if too much pressure is applied.
“Who are you?”
Still no response. He wonders if the person can’t speak or if they’re really just ignoring him, but half of him is relieved the other isn’t talking, because he isn’t sure he wants to hear any words right now, or feel anything other than soothing touches to his skin.
The gentle hand travels to his back by his shoulder blades and traces circles over them lethargically. Luhan constricts his throat even more, only breathing in small slivers of air as he waits for the hand to stop moving, a moment which will inevitably come.
“Be good now,” the person says, and Luhan immediately recognizes Sehun’s voice, his low timbre sending shivers down his body that spur on the goosebumps again. He’s scared, confused, and feels like he’s dreaming, but the few senses he does have makes everything seem so real, and so he’s lost.
He wants to ask Sehun what he’s doing there, why he’s been drugged, why he’s naked on the floor in an undisclosed location with bound limbs, but before he can produce the words from his throat he feels something hard and head-splitting collide with the crown of his skull, and then the world is gone once more.
*
He wakes up to an excruciating pain that’s scraping at his back, and it feels like someone has been raking over his skin with a brush made of unforgiving needles. He howls in agony, wondering what the hell could have caused him so much pain. The acrid smell of blood fills his nostrils and induces instant nausea, making him dry heave against the floor, nothing coming out except some saliva and perhaps some gastric acid.
Luhan still can’t see anything. He screams and tries to reach for his back to soothe whatever is hurting so bad, but his hands are still bound and he can barely move.
Just when he’s about to pull together all his strength and roll over on his back, he feels hands holding him down.
“Sehun!” He cries, sobbing coming forth immediately as he shakes against the floor. “Sehun, it hurts! What’s happening?” he gurgles out unintelligibly, the pain so blinding he can hardly make sense of anything or make any decent human sounds.
Sehun says something but he misses it because of the ringing in his ears and his own loud crying. He feels himself being pulled up from the ground and sat against a wall, but not so that his back touches it. He wants something to touch his back; he wants to stop the throbbing pain. Anything.
“Don’t be like this,” he hears Sehun say quietly, gently, and Luhan doesn’t understand what the hell he’s talking about. Sehun definitely can’t be talking to him. How can Luhan not be like this? He’s in so much pain he just wants to drag his head against the concrete floor to alleviate some of it and focus the stinging to somewhere else.
“Make it stop, Sehun, please! What’s going on?”
His words fall on deaf ears, and soon Sehun’s hands aren’t on him anymore, and he can hear him walking away.
“Wait! Don’t leave me!”
The footsteps keep going, but then they stop, as if he’s had a delayed reaction to Luhan’s pleading. Luhan is panting, and tries to quieten himself so that he can hear the footsteps better, but it’s easier said than done. Finally he’s able to bite his lips shut, forcing all the air out through his nose instead in dense streams. The footsteps are coming back to him now, closer and closer until they’re right in front of him. He feels a hand on his shoulder and then Sehun is so close he’s breathing onto his face.
“Eat.”
A pair of lips suddenly meet his, and Luhan’s surprised squeak is muffled against them. Sehun’s lips are cold and dry, and Luhan wants to turn his head to the side out of instinct, even if he has always dreamt of kissing those lips. But this isn’t how he has imagined it. Before can move, he feels something shoved in his mouth, and it’s not a tongue. He gags a little at first, the foreign matter occupying most of his cavern and resting heavy on his tongue. He tries to identify it, and after having it sit there for a few seconds he’s come to the conclusion that it’s chicken -unseasoned and bland- but definitely chicken.
He doesn’t understand why Sehun would be feeding him in such a way, and moves his head to the side to spit it out, but a hand covers his mouth and forces him to chew before he can make it.
What if Sehun is poisoning him? What if he’s being drugged again? He tries his best to resist swallowing it, but he’s so hungry and so famished that even with his dry mouth and sore throat he manages to force the food down with minimal saliva, coughing a little once the deed is done.
“Good.”
Sehun is speaking so robotically, his voice unusually gruff, and Luhan wants nothing more than to ask him questions, but as soon as he opens his mouth again the lips are back, thought this time he can feel Sehun’s tongue there, shoving another piece of chicken down his throat as he grabs his neck and tilts his head back for leverage.
He’s too tired to struggle, and lets himself be fed like Sehun wants him to be, chicken and tongue and Sehun’s taste and all. Surprisingly, he’s almost forgotten about the stinging pain in his back with his focus trained to Sehun’s ministrations, but as soon as he remembers it, the throbbing is back again, and he wants to bite down on Sehun’s tongue to relieve the pain, to claw at himself or hit his limbs into the walls.
He waits for Sehun’s mouth to be back on his with more chicken in store, but his mouth doesn’t come back, and so Luhan just sits there in pain, his lips wet slightly swollen from the brutal feeding.
Sehun doesn’t come back with more food after that; doesn’t even talk to him. He must have left quietly out the door. Luhan still wonders what’s going on and why this is happening, but he has no strength to call out Sehun’s name or try to probe what he can reach of the room. He spends the rest of the time speculating the reasons behind this, behind everything, until he has run around in circles and ended up back where he started with his reasoning several times.
At some point Luhan gives in to his tiredness and sinks to the floor, falling asleep to more endless silence.
*
There’s pain again, but Luhan doesn’t have enough strength to scream or cry in agony. He just lies there, trembling, squeezing his eyes shut behind the blindfold and waiting for the pain to pass or at least become something close to slightly more bearable. Maybe turn into a dull ache or numbness.
He’s lying on his stomach, whimpering into the floor for what feels like the hundredth hour straight. He has no sense of chronology there, no clock to tell him time is moving or that days are passing. He would count, but he’s in too much pain. His back is really stinging, and he feels like there’s something there; pinching him slightly, but he can’t turn to look or feel.
The door opens again, a familiar creaking filling the room of the hinges turning with the handle. Luhan dreads that noise.
“Sehun, what are you doing?” He cries, almost desperate now for him to listen properly. Sehun hasn’t responded to him at all. He just wants out. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. “It fucking hurts! What are you doing to me? What’s going on?”
As before, Sehun doesn’t answer him, but he does walk closer. Luhan listens to his footsteps until they’re by his face, and then flinches at a hand that comes to touch his shoulder. Sehun is pulling him up, forcing him to his knees while steadying his frail frame.
He flinches again when Sehun’s hand comes to pat his head, smoothing the hair down gently. He wants to jerk his head away because Sehun is confusing him, and he doesn’t understand why he’s hurting him but still being so ominously nice and gentle. But Luhan is scared beyond compare. He’s terrified and sickened by the Sehun who is holding him, and when he feels Sehun pull him close against his chest he starts crying, pain and panic consuming him and turning all his emotions sour.
“It’s okay,” Sehun breaths into his ear, and his voice sounds so kind and caring that Luhan almost believes him. “Don’t worry, I’m fixing you.”
Luhan wants to know what Sehun means by fixing him. Is he referring to the pain in his back? Is it fixing him? Are there any other people than Sehun there? Is he dreaming? Will this ever end? Is anybody worrying about him? Is anybody looking for him?
Lost in his thoughts, Luhan almost fails to notice the cold hand that’s sliding up his thighs, trailing all the way up until it’s pressed full against his crotch. Luhan yelps, twitching as Sehun palms him and gently squeezes his flesh, as if they are lovers ready to immerse themselves in a mutual pleasure. He’s sensitive and it’s uncomfortable, and he has never gone there with anyone before, never been touched like that. He’s angry. How dare Sehun. Luhan would have given himself to him in a heartbeat before, but this…Sehun is just taking. Sehun is invading him in every way and hiding things from him and hurting him and Luhan just wants him gone.
“Stop!” He yells, twisting his body to try and free himself, but Sehun is stronger and Luhan is severely disadvantaged, and so he just ends up further cradled into Sehun’s odd embrace. The younger has his fingers wrapped fully around him now, stroking him and pumping him and Luhan whimpers, biting his lip so hard that it breaks the skin and he tastes metallic warmth slightly different from what he’s been smelling for a long time. “Don’t touch me!”
A hand slaps him across the face with surprising force, and Luhan is silenced, shock and even more pain gripping him like a vice. He clenches his teeth together, all his muscles stiffening, but Sehun’s touch still manages to send tingles to his lower region and heat to his stomach. Luhan is making all kinds of noises now and they could be from pain or some sort of sick pleasure or despair, but Sehun didn’t seem to mind them, and in fact works faster.
Luhan is moaning loudly while disgusted with himself because Sehun is somehow managing to bring him close to the brink of ecstasy, his hand working at increasing pace, and even if Luhan cries for him to stop, he doesn’t. He just feels skin against skin, hears it, and rocks with the sharp movements as his body goes limp. He has an urge for the fiftieth time that day to empty his stomach all over the floor, but nothing comes up apart from slight reflux.
Luhan can’t hold it anymore and gives in to the overwhelming wave of bliss that makes him convulse in Sehun’s hold, limbs twitching as he sees white behind his eyelids and feels violent ripples of the feeling wringing him out. He comes down from the high panting, disgust and uncertainty washing over him soon after, and he feels violated even though Sehun has hardly raised a finger to harm him.
“White,” he hears Sehun say with what sounds like a small, relieved laugh. “White, Luhan. White like you.”
Luhan starts crying at this, wanting to be as far away from his crazy friend as he can be, but he’s stuck there in his arms with his shameful release dirtying the both of them, just hoping he won’t speak again. He cries into Sehun’s chest because he has nowhere else to do so, all too aware of the futility and horrendousness of what is happening.
*
He wakes up in a pool of his own vomit, no idea how many days have passed. He feels like he has slept a whole week and his head is throbbing. How long has he been out? Scratch that, how long has he been gone from everyone? He keeps wondering. Does nobody care enough to look for him? Because he’s still stuck in the cold room with pain gnawing at his back while he is fed from time to time and spoken nonsense to and he’s scared it will turn him equally crazy.
Luhan tries to not picture Sehun doing any of this. He doesn’t want to. There is someone else there, and it’s not Sehun. At the very least there must be something possessing him. He wants to distort Sehun’s gentle voice and make it sound like an ogre, like something rotten and evil and definitely not Sehun.
When he hears the footsteps again he curls in on himself, not sure whether to expect touches or slaps or both, because he never knows what he’s in for until it comes.
Nothing like that comes this time. All he feels is a soft hand on his back, just above the area that really stings, and it stays there for some time, until Luhan stops shaking.
“Please lay still, hyung. Please.”
Luhan doesn’t answer him, but doesn’t dare move even an inch, too afraid of the consequences. He presses his cheek to the floor and breathes heavy against the concrete, bracing himself for whatever Sehun will do to him. His curiosity is quenched as he feels one concentrated and piercing sting at the area of his back that’s already stinging, and he shrieks at the added pain, kicking his legs out in despair. The stinging travels bit by bit downwards, and he begs Sehun over and over again to stop whatever it is he’s doing and to soothe his pain, but Sehun doesn’t speak again after that; not one word.
Luhan screams into the silence but tries to lay still, forgetting how long Sehun holds him there until he passes out yet again.
*
It’s been days with the excruciating pain in his back, and he doesn’t ask Sehun any questions anymore, doesn’t bother to let his mind stray to think of why he’s there, why nobody is helping him, and why he’s being pained so much.
But one day, things change. Luhan has been pulled up to sit straight, and his back feels heavy. The pain must be so horrible that he feels the weight of a thousand bricks on him now. It’s scary, but things feel different. Sehun doesn’t leave him there this time. His hands just hold him, and one of them travels up to his face, stroking his face again.
Luhan almost cries in relief when he feels Sehun pull off his blindfold slowly, and suddenly light invades his vision and he has to squint because his eyes aren’t used to it at all and it hurts a little.
The first thing he sees is concrete walls, and light shining through a stained window in the distance. He looks straight in front of him, and sees something he hadn’t expected.
There’s a large, body length mirror there, perched up against the wall, and at the foot of the mirror he sees a mess of something black that he can’t recognize, a whole mound of it.
“Look, Luhan. You’re a real angel now,” Sehun breathes into the older’s neck, catching his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, his being borderline psychotic.
Luhan looks on in horror. His heart stops for the longest second, his breath catching in his throat as he chokes on himself and stares straight ahead.
Standing out from his sides, large and majestic, are a pair of white wings. Angel wings. They’re larger than his body, bowing over him and taking up all of the space in the mirror frame, making him look small and brittle in comparison. Suddenly he feels sick, and the pain on his shoulder blades is amplified by a thousand. He wants to hurl, he wants to rid his stomach of anything in it and more. He feels close to fainting.
He dares turn slightly to the left, which he shouldn’t have done, because what he sees makes him burst out in tears. From what he can see in the angle of the mirror when he strains his neck, the large wings are attached to his back by the doing of what looks like a very messy sewing job, black thread going in and out of his skin in cross stitches, the whole area covered on blood that’s dripping down his skin and also soaking through and staining parts of the wings, patches of his skin peeling off from the excruciating weight of the monstrous mounds of feather he’s been chained to. As he examines the wings further, he sees they’ve been made by hand; what must have taken at least a month’s worth of time and effort. They’re made with care, every feather attached to a wire frame with great precision. He wants to vomit again. He wants to, but there’s nothing left in his stomach. He’s frozen in disbelief.
“S-Sehun,” he sobs, the name making him even more nauseous as each syllable spills from his lips. He doesn’t know what he wants to say, but he doesn’t get to say anything as the younger cuts him off with a swift kiss to his cheek that he can’t even feel because he’s so numb.
“You look so beautiful, hyung,” Sehun coos, raising a hand to pet one of the wings with admiration, running a finger down each soft white feather, tucking them in place perfectly and wiping some blood off them in a rather futile effort.
Luhan used to love Sehun’s soft voice before, but now it’s making his skin curl. He wants to rip these miscreations off him like they’re a pest, a disgusting insect or something more vile that’s infecting him and making his skin curl in disgust. He feels bile rise in his throat, and his head goes cold.
And it doesn’t help when Sehun says, “I knew you were an angel, Luhan. I knew it. I’ve set you free now. Just look how perfect you are.”
He wants to scream at Sehun and hit him a thousand times over for doing this to him. He wants to shake some sense into him because the Sehun he knows must be in there somewhere. Sehun has ruined him. Where is the kind and down to earth boy he fell in love with? Where are the discussions late at night about their future, about movies they’ve seen, about nothing and everything?
He cries so hard he shakes, rocking his frame back and forwards, ignoring the pain that shoots up his spine.
Sehun suddenly places a hand on his shoulder, stilling him rather forcefully. “You can’t do that, hyung, you’ll ruin my work,” he grits out, and Luhan feels himself still out of instinctive fear.
But Luhan feels something snap in him at that moment, and suddenly anger is bubbling over in his stomach, feelings of panic and betrayal hitting him harder than a solid wall and tearing at his better sense of judgment.
“What have you done, you monster?!” He screams, shoving Sehun off him and grabbing a hold of one of his wings. It’s not soft; it’s hard and bulky, the wires binding the feathers together digging into his skin as he squeezes it in a firm grip. He yanks at it hard, pain shooting through his body and making him howl even louder. He thinks he can feel his skin rip off but he doesn’t care, he tugs at it again, a few feathers falling out with his action. The right part of his back is on fire, and he feels warm streams of blood run down his skin in volumes, pouring from where he’s making a rift in the messy sowing, desperately trying to part with the massive things stuck to his back.
“You can’t do that!” Sehun yells, and suddenly Luhan feels a rough hand restricting his arm, pulling Luhan forward forcefully. His knees skid over the concrete floor. “Stop ruining yourself!” Sehun commands, and then a deafening slap hits his cheek, Luhan feeling himself starting to lose consciousness as the world before him begins to blur. Whether it’s from the blood he’s losing, or the pain, or the vile shock finally setting in, he doesn’t know, but his vision fades to black while he looks up at Sehun’s infuriated face, seeing a savage madman and nothing else.
*
The next time he wakes up he is spread eagle on the floor with his front down, his arms and legs being pulled and stretched painfully from being tied to different things on each end that hold him in place. He can barely life his chin off the ground.
Sehun is in the room with him already. Luhan can see him sitting in a chair in a corner of the room, looking calm and collected. But his hands, that are clasped together, are full of blood. He’s staring at Luhan with expressionless eyes, and Luhan hold them this time.
He has fresh tears down his face, and he starts sobbing once the pain hits him again like a hard blow to his sanity.
“I had to fix you up. You ruined my work, but I fixed it. You can fly again now.”
Luhan rubs his face against the floor, trying to soothe his splitting headache. “Please, Sehun, listen to yourself-“
“You shouldn’t move so much,” Sehun says calmly, his hands clasped together in front of him. “You might hurt your wings. I don’t want you to hurt.”
Luhan feels anger gripping him and he shoots his head up, glaring at the younger boy from his position on the ground. “I am hurting, you bastard! You hurt me! You did this! You’re fucking crazy!”
Luhan regrets the words he’s said as soon as they come out of his mouth, and bites his dried bloody lip, turning away from the younger boy. Sehun has gotten up, and is striding over the floor to him slowly, looking like he’s slightly limping. Luhan turns his face away from him, scared beyond anything and wary of his raw and naked body that’s spread out on the ground, susceptible to any harm Sehun should chose to inflict upon him.
A hand comes to his wrists, and he shrieks. He feels the rope on his hands being undone, but he is panicking even more now because this can’t be leading to anything good. Sehun’s hands are still warm and gentle, and once they’re done untying his arms, they move down to his ankles and untie the rope binding him there.
“P-please, Sehun, let me go,” Luhan chokes, flexing his fingers slightly and moving his wrists that are sore and stiff. “I won’t tell anyone what you did, I promise. Just let me go to the hospital before my wounds become infected. This can kill me.”
Sehun doesn’t say anything, as usual, and all he can do is lay there, trapped in his stiff body, while Sehun pulls him up from the floor, all the way to his unsteady feet this time. Luhan’s legs are hurting, and his knees give, but Sehun hold his up with strong arms, mindful of the giant wings that are still sticking out of Luhan’s back.
Luhan screams as he feels the weight of the wings pulling down, and he is sure he can feel his skin tearing again, gravity doing its cruel job.
“It’s okay, I think you’re ready,” Sehun says, and Luhan is certain by now that he’s mostly talking to himself.
What happens after that if a blur because he can only feel pain and can only see through a wall of tears, and all he feels is Sehun helping him along to somewhere, his bare feel walking over concrete and then grass, until it’s back on concrete, and he can hear cars.
“W-where are you taking me?”
They walk quite far, and Sehun doesn’t speak to him. Luhan wants to complain that he is tired and will fall apart soon, but Sehun is adamant about pulling him forward, practically lifting him to reach their destination.
Luhan only quickens to when he feels Sehun pushing him up some steps, and he blinks away tears incessantly to see that he is faced with a long spiral staircase. His legs automatically move up, and Sehun ushers him on from behind, lifting his legs if Luhan takes too long on a certain step.
When they get to the top Luhan feels wind, and lots of it. He feels cold, outside air, and a whipping wind hitting his face and naked body. He shivers violently and forces his eyes open.
He’s staring out over the city, millions of lights blinking at him in a sea of buildings and street lamps, all far, far below him. He must be at the roof of a tall building, and he instantly feels his fear of heights kick in, so he turns around the best he can, gripping on to Sehun with unyielding arms, and the other boy is just standing there, still like a statue while Luhan clings to his steady frame like a baby koala.
Luhan cries into Sehun’s shirt, breathing in the scent he used to love so much and rubs his face into his chest, scared to let go. He doesn’t want to know what they’re doing up there, what in the world Sehun has planned for him while he’s still in such a state, and naked at that. What could they possibly do up on the roof of a building, and in such harsh weather? Does anyone know they’re up here? Can’t they see them?
Sehun pulls him from his chest with careless hands, and Luhan whines, but then Sehun cups his cheeks tenderly and leans in to kiss him full on the mouth, which Luhan melts into it because it’s the only comfort and tenderness he’s felt in so long, and he would take that over harsh jerks and hits any day.
“Are you ready to fly from your nest?” He says as Sehun pulls back, looking straight into Luhan’s eyes with a dead serious expression. Luhan stares back at him with wide eyes, not understanding a single thing. He buries his hands into Sehun’s shirt and grips it tight, afraid to be forced away from him at this point. “When you love something, you have to let it go. That’s what everyone says. So I’m going to let you go. You have to be majestic and free, with your own people. I fixed you, so you have to go home now.”
Luhan just stares at him open-mouthed, unable to do anything or react or speak because he can’t get his brain to function and can’t make sense of Sehun’s ludicrous words.
Soon Luhan feels himself be pushed backwards, Sehun holding each of his wrists up against his chest and walking with him towards the edge of the building.
“S-Sehun,” Luhan squeaks, his voice broken and quiet and forced out in disbelief, and he can’t fight against him, can’t even try to stop him. Sehun just keeps moving him back, back, back, until Luhan feels the back of his knees hit a solid edge.
He doesn’t dare look behind him, because he knows what’s there. He knows that behind him is endless nothingness, a fall into his death, and he just stands there still, scared stiff, the pain in his back long forgotten and the tears dried from the wind.
“Perfect. You’re perfect. My angel.”
Luhan hates Sehun’s voice. He hates him. He hates what he’s doing, but he can’t speak or convince him to stop, because he’s frozen. Memories play in his head of what feels like just yesterday when they were watching Constantine and drinking soju in his room, with the slightly romantic setting, their bodies satisfyingly tired from dancing all day. He was smitten. In love. He remembers how warm he felt. Luhan thinks he can almost feel that warmth right now, even if he is naked and high in the air. He can’t feel his body, but he thinks he feels warm. Sehun is staring at him and holding his wrists, and Luhan just stares back.
His body tilts a little, and he can feel his center weight tip over. Sehun his pushing him back, pushing him over the edge of the building. Luhan doesn’t cry or scream or try to grab for something, because he can’t. He is spellbound.
“Freeze!”
He is waiting to feel wind under him and the tingling sensation of falling through the air many stories down, but he is still vertical, and Sehun is still holding his wrists.
“Don’t move!”
He stays in that position for quite a while, his joints stuck and his whole body numb. He thinks he can feel his heartbeat slow from the insane cold he is feeling, but he’s not shivering anymore.
Suddenly there is nobody holding his wrists anymore, and he lets out a silent and nonexistent scream, prepared to fall to his death, but there are arms on him, grabbing him, everywhere, and he is pulled forwards instead, no air under him and no tickly feeling in his stomach for tumbling down ten stories.
“Hold him down, he could still be dangerous!”
Luhan is disoriented above everything, but gentle hands are leading him forward and away from the ledge of the building, and he follows like the puppet he feels like he has become, stiff legs stumbling with each step. His eyes are still wide and he can’t move them, but he thinks he feels something warm around his shoulders that he assumes is some sort of a blanket. His body hasn’t been covered for weeks. It feels strange, this fabric touching his body. He feels like he’ll get a rash from it. It’s suffocating.
There’s a light shining in his eyes, and he whimpers, actual sound escaping him for the first time since he’s been lead away from the ledge. The light moves to his other eye, shining straight into it. Luhan tries to shut his eyes, but then one of them is pried open, and he just lets himself be prodded and guided around until he feels himself being sat down on a stretcher.
He takes in more of what’s going on now, more of his surroundings, and he can see that there are many people there, but most of all policemen, rushing back and forth. The police are crowding around one certain spot on the roof, and a few of them have their guns drawn.
There are paramedics around Luhan, feeling parts of his body and pricking him with things and lifting him. In the distance Luhan thinks he can see some familiar people, and he blinks his dry eyes to try and make sense of the shapes and colours in his head.
The first thing he sees is Suho. Suho is standing there a few feet away, looking at him. Luhan thinks his expression is worried…shocked…sad, maybe. Beside Suho is Kai, and Kai’s face is stiff just like Luhan’s feels. They’re standing behind a barrier the police have just put up. Luhan doesn’t know how they all got there. How they all found him. More of his members are there too, and he thinks he can see Chanyeol crying somewhere on the right.
“I know there are sick people in the world, but this…”
The paramedics are talking around him, and he feels an oxygen mask being placed over his face, and suddenly it’s a little more comfortable to breathe. Maybe he’s safe now.
He wants to close his eyes and give in to the tiredness that’s pulling him down, to finally will his muscles to unclench and relax, but then he remembers.
He turns to look over at Sehun, who is standing in between two large policemen with his arms cuffed behind his back, looking like a harmless kid who has just eaten way too little the past month or so and Sehun-
Sehun is just smiling at him.
a/n: wow writing stories about crazy people is so much fun lol. but like i said, this probably has loads of spelling errors because it's like 3am, but i'll re-read it tomorrow. i might write a sequel to this, but i'm not sure.. hope you liked it?
Chapters: Oneshot
Pairing: Sehun/Luhan
Rating: R
Genre: Horror
Warnings: adult content, blood, gore, mild violence
Summary: Sehun has always said he looks like an angel. Luhan doesn't think much of it until he finds himself being dragged away to an undisclosed location one day, hands holding him down while his back begins to sting.
a/n: i know i should be working on requests but this just happened i’m sorry. also I have no idea whether this is G or R or NC-17 but I wanted to be safe. i thought i'd try something new! haven't really written horror before, so this is a little test run. but please, be careful when you read this.. also, i'm going to warn for many possible spelling or grammatical errors because i'm really tired and have probably missed them. enjoy!
The first thing Sehun tells him when they meet is that he looks like an angel. He tells him so with a stunned face and an open mouth, and Luhan finds him cute and chuckles at the remark, flattered at being compared to something of the sort.
Sehun is the awkward trainee he’s ended up rooming with as he prepares himself for possibly debuting in a boy band, training all day and all night and only getting breathers when he’s lying on his bed right before going to sleep, and that’s when they talk. They talk until dawn, even if it comes and bites them in the ass when they try to drag their butts out of bed in the morning, but honestly, Luhan wouldn't have it any other way.
Sehun is kind and is still young and he complains sometimes about a lot of things, but Luhan dotes on him and thinks he’s nothing short of adorable, even with his little antics. Especially with his little antics. They quickly grow close, and confide in each other when they go through rough patches or feel a little homesick, until they debut, and suddenly things get really hectic, and they get to spend less time together.
They talk sometimes at night, but it’s not long until they both knock out from exhaustion, and so half the things they’ve wanted to say to each other remains unsaid, and by the morning, forgotten.
They don’t even get to practice together much anymore, because Luhan has to train with his sub-unit and Sehun has to train with his own, their small practice rooms not big enough to host both groups. Luhan is upset that they don’t get to be in the same sub-group, but doesn’t whine about it, because he’s the older one, and Sehun isn’t whining about it at all. He does scrunch up his nose as they’re told to part though. Every time.
Somehow, even as they switch rooms and change countries and move around, they still manage to find some time to spend together. It’s through all these wild turns and flashing performances and quiet moments together that Luhan finds himself falling for Sehun. He falls for his altruism, the way he can trust him like nobody else, because Sehun always keeps his promises and secrets, and how he is just so genuine about everything he does and says. Like how he always tells Luhan he is beautiful, and that he really does look like and angel, and Luhan can tell he really means it, because there’s such an honest and disarming look in his eyes when they lock with Luhan’s and he tells him from time to time. Sehun always blushes, and Luhan feels his heart soar and a smile forming on his face at his childish way of voicing his affection. Maybe, perhaps, Sehun likes him too. But Luhan is always too shy to confront him about it, and just settles with thinking Sehun only really looks up to him, more like a guardian angel than anything else, and that Sehun is just a very honest person.
*
“Ready, hyung?”
Luhan looks up at Sehun’s hopeful face. In his hands he’s holding a DVD, one with a dark red cover, and Luhan nods his head and smiles up at him from the foot of his bed.
It’s movie night. Sundays are always movie night, and they've managed to keep up the tradition through the years. They watch a different type of movie every week, and this week they’re going for something a little heavy, apparently.
Constantine, it’s called. Luhan doesn’t mind horror, but he is surprised that Sehun has suggested it, as the younger usually goes for something more mainstream and action filled, like The Amazing Spider Man, which they watched last week.
They have Luhan’s laptop rigged up on a table, which they use as their mini movie theatre. Luhan is sitting at the edge of his bed, and Kris is out so they have the whole room to themselves. Sehun is sitting across from him in a chair, his feet up indian style. He holds out a bottle of soju to Luhan, who takes it in hand and swallows some down straight from the bottle, grinning at Sehun once he’s done and handing it back to him.
“Naughty maknae,” he comments as Sehun takes a swig of his own, setting the bottle down on the floor as he wipes his mouth. The younger just chuckles, shaking his head and leaning his head back with a wide grin plastered there.
The addition of alcohol to their movie nights is pretty recent, but Sehun has begged Luhan to try some, and so Luhan just ends up bringing a bottle with him from the kitchen every Sunday, making Sehun promise not to tell the others. Sehun swears on his Michael Bay movie collection, and so Luhan doesn’t worry too much about their little secret getting out.
They’re halfway into the movie, and Luhan can already feel his eyes getting tired from the strenuous staring at the little computer screen, and he yawns once, shifting to lay with his stomach down on the bed. He looks over to Sehun, who is leaning his head in his hand as it cocks sideways, looking at Luhan though he had expected him to be looking at the screen where the movie was reaching its climax.
Luhan raises an eyebrow at him questioningly, wondering if Sehun is about to ask him a question about the plot or if he has something on his face. Maybe the alcohol has made his eyes look weird.
“You look so pure in this light. Really angelic,” is all Sehun says, and Luhan’s breath catches in his throat in surprise. Sehun is eyeing him so sincerely that Luhan is taken off guard. His face must be a shade of deep red, because he can feel his cheeks burn, and it’s not from the alcohol. Sehun has been sounding so serious and genuine about these things lately that Luhan doesn’t know what to say back. He wants to tell Sehun that he is nothing close to an angel and that he is full of flaws and Sehun really shouldn’t be thinking so highly of him, but nothing ever comes out apart from a quiet ‘thank you’ as he looks away.
Sehun isn’t grinning childishly. His gaze is soft and Luhan tries to focus back on the movie, because his heart is beating really fast and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s so focused on the moving screen and his running thoughts that he doesn’t notice Sehun come and sit down next to him on the bed, eyes glued to him instead of the thrilling movie that’s playing right before them.
Luhan enjoys lying beside him, feeling his presence like a calming charm while he forces his eyes open to watch Keanu Reeves running around on screen. They sit like that for quite a while, and the movie comes to a close some time past midnight, Luhan already mentally reprimanding himself for the lack of sleep he’ll be getting for his busy day tomorrow.
“I’ll help you find yourself,” he hears Sehun say. Luhan turns the words over in his head a few times before he decides that he can’t make any sense of them, and turns to face Sehun with a mouth open and ready to question him, but before he knows it something comes up to cover his mouth and nose, and the last thing he remembers before he suddenly loses consciousness is the stagnant smell of chloroform that sends his mind into a dizzying downwards spiral with the soundtrack of Constantine playing in the background like a lullaby.
*
When he comes to everything is cold. He feels like he must be outside because the temperature is inhumanely freezing, but there isn’t even a slight mention or whisper of a breeze, and he thinks he’s sitting on something eerily familiar to concrete. It’s not until a few seconds have passed with him trying to re-identify all his senses that he realizes he’s naked; completely stripped to the bone, with a blindfold covering his eyes that’s making the world around him abysmally black. He feels his heart catch in his throat as he remembers chloroform and Sehun’s murmured words in his ears, and that he’s supposed to be in a warm bed right now, perhaps waking up to get ready for a performance or a few rigorous hours of practice until he can no longer stand on his feet.
But he’s nowhere near the familiar. He’s sitting on a cold floor with goosebumps running down his skin, no sound reaching his ears whatsoever to help him recognize his surroundings. He tries to shift his body a little, but he realizes his hands are bound in front of him with some sort of rope, and when he tries to move his feet he feels one of them tied to something that’s preventing him from budging from his spot on the floor, rooting him in place like an anchor.
He begins to panic, and suddenly he feels claustrophobic; trapped at all corners. He doesn’t know why he is naked, why he is bound and left alone, but he is.
He shouts Sehun’s name once, hoping this is nightmare or some sort of weird joke, but it does nothing but get absorbed by the walls he assumes he is surrounded with, and he’s left knowing that he is very alone. He tries to calm his breathing, taking deep breaths so as not to panic and end up hurting himself. After a while he shouts for Kris. He shouts for Suho. He shouts for everyone, twice, until his throat gets tired of the vocal strain refuses to try anymore. After the last name leaves his lips he starts crying, tears saturating his blindfold and slipping down his cheeks, making them sting and itch because of the cold, stale air he is exposed to.
Luhan sits there for a while in hopeless tears, not knowing what to do except for tug at his bound arms and restrained foot, whining slightly in frustration and swallowing back pathetic snivels and hiccups as his attempts amount to less than nothing. He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he came to consciousness, but he can hear his stomach rumbling and he feels weak, his body screaming for food the only way it knows how.
As he yanks his foot hard once in an attempt to release it from whatever is tying it down, he hears a door open and close and a lock click into place and then everything is just darkness and silence again, each more deafening and endless than the other.
He hears someone walking into the room and lifts his head as if it could help him sense who it is, his body shaking with fright. “Sehun?” He asks into the nothingness, but is met with more silence.
The person is walking towards him; Luhan can hear his shoes clunk against the floor, and it’s not long before the steps stop right in front of him.
He holds his breath; terrified. He’s been robbed of his senses and clothes, and he’s completely helpless on the ground, hands bound upfront and his foot to something that he assumed is a wall, and he has absolutely no idea what’s going to happen to him or why he isn’t at home.
As he tenses his body to prepare for a blow or a rough hand or something coming at him out of the blue, he feels a rather warm hand cup his cheek, a thumb stroking the skin there in repetitive motions. He stays dead still, focusing on the warm flesh against his own and not wanting to make any sudden movements in case he’ll draw forth a negative reaction from the person who is caressing his face.
“Sehun?” He asks again, because he has no idea who else it can be aside from him. Sehun’s voice was the last he’d heard before he passed out, and Sehun’s face is all he can remember while he’s sitting there on the cold floor. Sehun’s handsome and disarming face.
He calms down slightly once he realizes the hand isn’t doing him any harm and he feels it trail softly down his neck and over his bare shoulder, the touch light as a feather, as if afraid he might break if too much pressure is applied.
“Who are you?”
Still no response. He wonders if the person can’t speak or if they’re really just ignoring him, but half of him is relieved the other isn’t talking, because he isn’t sure he wants to hear any words right now, or feel anything other than soothing touches to his skin.
The gentle hand travels to his back by his shoulder blades and traces circles over them lethargically. Luhan constricts his throat even more, only breathing in small slivers of air as he waits for the hand to stop moving, a moment which will inevitably come.
“Be good now,” the person says, and Luhan immediately recognizes Sehun’s voice, his low timbre sending shivers down his body that spur on the goosebumps again. He’s scared, confused, and feels like he’s dreaming, but the few senses he does have makes everything seem so real, and so he’s lost.
He wants to ask Sehun what he’s doing there, why he’s been drugged, why he’s naked on the floor in an undisclosed location with bound limbs, but before he can produce the words from his throat he feels something hard and head-splitting collide with the crown of his skull, and then the world is gone once more.
*
He wakes up to an excruciating pain that’s scraping at his back, and it feels like someone has been raking over his skin with a brush made of unforgiving needles. He howls in agony, wondering what the hell could have caused him so much pain. The acrid smell of blood fills his nostrils and induces instant nausea, making him dry heave against the floor, nothing coming out except some saliva and perhaps some gastric acid.
Luhan still can’t see anything. He screams and tries to reach for his back to soothe whatever is hurting so bad, but his hands are still bound and he can barely move.
Just when he’s about to pull together all his strength and roll over on his back, he feels hands holding him down.
“Sehun!” He cries, sobbing coming forth immediately as he shakes against the floor. “Sehun, it hurts! What’s happening?” he gurgles out unintelligibly, the pain so blinding he can hardly make sense of anything or make any decent human sounds.
Sehun says something but he misses it because of the ringing in his ears and his own loud crying. He feels himself being pulled up from the ground and sat against a wall, but not so that his back touches it. He wants something to touch his back; he wants to stop the throbbing pain. Anything.
“Don’t be like this,” he hears Sehun say quietly, gently, and Luhan doesn’t understand what the hell he’s talking about. Sehun definitely can’t be talking to him. How can Luhan not be like this? He’s in so much pain he just wants to drag his head against the concrete floor to alleviate some of it and focus the stinging to somewhere else.
“Make it stop, Sehun, please! What’s going on?”
His words fall on deaf ears, and soon Sehun’s hands aren’t on him anymore, and he can hear him walking away.
“Wait! Don’t leave me!”
The footsteps keep going, but then they stop, as if he’s had a delayed reaction to Luhan’s pleading. Luhan is panting, and tries to quieten himself so that he can hear the footsteps better, but it’s easier said than done. Finally he’s able to bite his lips shut, forcing all the air out through his nose instead in dense streams. The footsteps are coming back to him now, closer and closer until they’re right in front of him. He feels a hand on his shoulder and then Sehun is so close he’s breathing onto his face.
“Eat.”
A pair of lips suddenly meet his, and Luhan’s surprised squeak is muffled against them. Sehun’s lips are cold and dry, and Luhan wants to turn his head to the side out of instinct, even if he has always dreamt of kissing those lips. But this isn’t how he has imagined it. Before can move, he feels something shoved in his mouth, and it’s not a tongue. He gags a little at first, the foreign matter occupying most of his cavern and resting heavy on his tongue. He tries to identify it, and after having it sit there for a few seconds he’s come to the conclusion that it’s chicken -unseasoned and bland- but definitely chicken.
He doesn’t understand why Sehun would be feeding him in such a way, and moves his head to the side to spit it out, but a hand covers his mouth and forces him to chew before he can make it.
What if Sehun is poisoning him? What if he’s being drugged again? He tries his best to resist swallowing it, but he’s so hungry and so famished that even with his dry mouth and sore throat he manages to force the food down with minimal saliva, coughing a little once the deed is done.
“Good.”
Sehun is speaking so robotically, his voice unusually gruff, and Luhan wants nothing more than to ask him questions, but as soon as he opens his mouth again the lips are back, thought this time he can feel Sehun’s tongue there, shoving another piece of chicken down his throat as he grabs his neck and tilts his head back for leverage.
He’s too tired to struggle, and lets himself be fed like Sehun wants him to be, chicken and tongue and Sehun’s taste and all. Surprisingly, he’s almost forgotten about the stinging pain in his back with his focus trained to Sehun’s ministrations, but as soon as he remembers it, the throbbing is back again, and he wants to bite down on Sehun’s tongue to relieve the pain, to claw at himself or hit his limbs into the walls.
He waits for Sehun’s mouth to be back on his with more chicken in store, but his mouth doesn’t come back, and so Luhan just sits there in pain, his lips wet slightly swollen from the brutal feeding.
Sehun doesn’t come back with more food after that; doesn’t even talk to him. He must have left quietly out the door. Luhan still wonders what’s going on and why this is happening, but he has no strength to call out Sehun’s name or try to probe what he can reach of the room. He spends the rest of the time speculating the reasons behind this, behind everything, until he has run around in circles and ended up back where he started with his reasoning several times.
At some point Luhan gives in to his tiredness and sinks to the floor, falling asleep to more endless silence.
*
There’s pain again, but Luhan doesn’t have enough strength to scream or cry in agony. He just lies there, trembling, squeezing his eyes shut behind the blindfold and waiting for the pain to pass or at least become something close to slightly more bearable. Maybe turn into a dull ache or numbness.
He’s lying on his stomach, whimpering into the floor for what feels like the hundredth hour straight. He has no sense of chronology there, no clock to tell him time is moving or that days are passing. He would count, but he’s in too much pain. His back is really stinging, and he feels like there’s something there; pinching him slightly, but he can’t turn to look or feel.
The door opens again, a familiar creaking filling the room of the hinges turning with the handle. Luhan dreads that noise.
“Sehun, what are you doing?” He cries, almost desperate now for him to listen properly. Sehun hasn’t responded to him at all. He just wants out. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. “It fucking hurts! What are you doing to me? What’s going on?”
As before, Sehun doesn’t answer him, but he does walk closer. Luhan listens to his footsteps until they’re by his face, and then flinches at a hand that comes to touch his shoulder. Sehun is pulling him up, forcing him to his knees while steadying his frail frame.
He flinches again when Sehun’s hand comes to pat his head, smoothing the hair down gently. He wants to jerk his head away because Sehun is confusing him, and he doesn’t understand why he’s hurting him but still being so ominously nice and gentle. But Luhan is scared beyond compare. He’s terrified and sickened by the Sehun who is holding him, and when he feels Sehun pull him close against his chest he starts crying, pain and panic consuming him and turning all his emotions sour.
“It’s okay,” Sehun breaths into his ear, and his voice sounds so kind and caring that Luhan almost believes him. “Don’t worry, I’m fixing you.”
Luhan wants to know what Sehun means by fixing him. Is he referring to the pain in his back? Is it fixing him? Are there any other people than Sehun there? Is he dreaming? Will this ever end? Is anybody worrying about him? Is anybody looking for him?
Lost in his thoughts, Luhan almost fails to notice the cold hand that’s sliding up his thighs, trailing all the way up until it’s pressed full against his crotch. Luhan yelps, twitching as Sehun palms him and gently squeezes his flesh, as if they are lovers ready to immerse themselves in a mutual pleasure. He’s sensitive and it’s uncomfortable, and he has never gone there with anyone before, never been touched like that. He’s angry. How dare Sehun. Luhan would have given himself to him in a heartbeat before, but this…Sehun is just taking. Sehun is invading him in every way and hiding things from him and hurting him and Luhan just wants him gone.
“Stop!” He yells, twisting his body to try and free himself, but Sehun is stronger and Luhan is severely disadvantaged, and so he just ends up further cradled into Sehun’s odd embrace. The younger has his fingers wrapped fully around him now, stroking him and pumping him and Luhan whimpers, biting his lip so hard that it breaks the skin and he tastes metallic warmth slightly different from what he’s been smelling for a long time. “Don’t touch me!”
A hand slaps him across the face with surprising force, and Luhan is silenced, shock and even more pain gripping him like a vice. He clenches his teeth together, all his muscles stiffening, but Sehun’s touch still manages to send tingles to his lower region and heat to his stomach. Luhan is making all kinds of noises now and they could be from pain or some sort of sick pleasure or despair, but Sehun didn’t seem to mind them, and in fact works faster.
Luhan is moaning loudly while disgusted with himself because Sehun is somehow managing to bring him close to the brink of ecstasy, his hand working at increasing pace, and even if Luhan cries for him to stop, he doesn’t. He just feels skin against skin, hears it, and rocks with the sharp movements as his body goes limp. He has an urge for the fiftieth time that day to empty his stomach all over the floor, but nothing comes up apart from slight reflux.
Luhan can’t hold it anymore and gives in to the overwhelming wave of bliss that makes him convulse in Sehun’s hold, limbs twitching as he sees white behind his eyelids and feels violent ripples of the feeling wringing him out. He comes down from the high panting, disgust and uncertainty washing over him soon after, and he feels violated even though Sehun has hardly raised a finger to harm him.
“White,” he hears Sehun say with what sounds like a small, relieved laugh. “White, Luhan. White like you.”
Luhan starts crying at this, wanting to be as far away from his crazy friend as he can be, but he’s stuck there in his arms with his shameful release dirtying the both of them, just hoping he won’t speak again. He cries into Sehun’s chest because he has nowhere else to do so, all too aware of the futility and horrendousness of what is happening.
*
He wakes up in a pool of his own vomit, no idea how many days have passed. He feels like he has slept a whole week and his head is throbbing. How long has he been out? Scratch that, how long has he been gone from everyone? He keeps wondering. Does nobody care enough to look for him? Because he’s still stuck in the cold room with pain gnawing at his back while he is fed from time to time and spoken nonsense to and he’s scared it will turn him equally crazy.
Luhan tries to not picture Sehun doing any of this. He doesn’t want to. There is someone else there, and it’s not Sehun. At the very least there must be something possessing him. He wants to distort Sehun’s gentle voice and make it sound like an ogre, like something rotten and evil and definitely not Sehun.
When he hears the footsteps again he curls in on himself, not sure whether to expect touches or slaps or both, because he never knows what he’s in for until it comes.
Nothing like that comes this time. All he feels is a soft hand on his back, just above the area that really stings, and it stays there for some time, until Luhan stops shaking.
“Please lay still, hyung. Please.”
Luhan doesn’t answer him, but doesn’t dare move even an inch, too afraid of the consequences. He presses his cheek to the floor and breathes heavy against the concrete, bracing himself for whatever Sehun will do to him. His curiosity is quenched as he feels one concentrated and piercing sting at the area of his back that’s already stinging, and he shrieks at the added pain, kicking his legs out in despair. The stinging travels bit by bit downwards, and he begs Sehun over and over again to stop whatever it is he’s doing and to soothe his pain, but Sehun doesn’t speak again after that; not one word.
Luhan screams into the silence but tries to lay still, forgetting how long Sehun holds him there until he passes out yet again.
*
It’s been days with the excruciating pain in his back, and he doesn’t ask Sehun any questions anymore, doesn’t bother to let his mind stray to think of why he’s there, why nobody is helping him, and why he’s being pained so much.
But one day, things change. Luhan has been pulled up to sit straight, and his back feels heavy. The pain must be so horrible that he feels the weight of a thousand bricks on him now. It’s scary, but things feel different. Sehun doesn’t leave him there this time. His hands just hold him, and one of them travels up to his face, stroking his face again.
Luhan almost cries in relief when he feels Sehun pull off his blindfold slowly, and suddenly light invades his vision and he has to squint because his eyes aren’t used to it at all and it hurts a little.
The first thing he sees is concrete walls, and light shining through a stained window in the distance. He looks straight in front of him, and sees something he hadn’t expected.
There’s a large, body length mirror there, perched up against the wall, and at the foot of the mirror he sees a mess of something black that he can’t recognize, a whole mound of it.
“Look, Luhan. You’re a real angel now,” Sehun breathes into the older’s neck, catching his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, his being borderline psychotic.
Luhan looks on in horror. His heart stops for the longest second, his breath catching in his throat as he chokes on himself and stares straight ahead.
Standing out from his sides, large and majestic, are a pair of white wings. Angel wings. They’re larger than his body, bowing over him and taking up all of the space in the mirror frame, making him look small and brittle in comparison. Suddenly he feels sick, and the pain on his shoulder blades is amplified by a thousand. He wants to hurl, he wants to rid his stomach of anything in it and more. He feels close to fainting.
He dares turn slightly to the left, which he shouldn’t have done, because what he sees makes him burst out in tears. From what he can see in the angle of the mirror when he strains his neck, the large wings are attached to his back by the doing of what looks like a very messy sewing job, black thread going in and out of his skin in cross stitches, the whole area covered on blood that’s dripping down his skin and also soaking through and staining parts of the wings, patches of his skin peeling off from the excruciating weight of the monstrous mounds of feather he’s been chained to. As he examines the wings further, he sees they’ve been made by hand; what must have taken at least a month’s worth of time and effort. They’re made with care, every feather attached to a wire frame with great precision. He wants to vomit again. He wants to, but there’s nothing left in his stomach. He’s frozen in disbelief.
“S-Sehun,” he sobs, the name making him even more nauseous as each syllable spills from his lips. He doesn’t know what he wants to say, but he doesn’t get to say anything as the younger cuts him off with a swift kiss to his cheek that he can’t even feel because he’s so numb.
“You look so beautiful, hyung,” Sehun coos, raising a hand to pet one of the wings with admiration, running a finger down each soft white feather, tucking them in place perfectly and wiping some blood off them in a rather futile effort.
Luhan used to love Sehun’s soft voice before, but now it’s making his skin curl. He wants to rip these miscreations off him like they’re a pest, a disgusting insect or something more vile that’s infecting him and making his skin curl in disgust. He feels bile rise in his throat, and his head goes cold.
And it doesn’t help when Sehun says, “I knew you were an angel, Luhan. I knew it. I’ve set you free now. Just look how perfect you are.”
He wants to scream at Sehun and hit him a thousand times over for doing this to him. He wants to shake some sense into him because the Sehun he knows must be in there somewhere. Sehun has ruined him. Where is the kind and down to earth boy he fell in love with? Where are the discussions late at night about their future, about movies they’ve seen, about nothing and everything?
He cries so hard he shakes, rocking his frame back and forwards, ignoring the pain that shoots up his spine.
Sehun suddenly places a hand on his shoulder, stilling him rather forcefully. “You can’t do that, hyung, you’ll ruin my work,” he grits out, and Luhan feels himself still out of instinctive fear.
But Luhan feels something snap in him at that moment, and suddenly anger is bubbling over in his stomach, feelings of panic and betrayal hitting him harder than a solid wall and tearing at his better sense of judgment.
“What have you done, you monster?!” He screams, shoving Sehun off him and grabbing a hold of one of his wings. It’s not soft; it’s hard and bulky, the wires binding the feathers together digging into his skin as he squeezes it in a firm grip. He yanks at it hard, pain shooting through his body and making him howl even louder. He thinks he can feel his skin rip off but he doesn’t care, he tugs at it again, a few feathers falling out with his action. The right part of his back is on fire, and he feels warm streams of blood run down his skin in volumes, pouring from where he’s making a rift in the messy sowing, desperately trying to part with the massive things stuck to his back.
“You can’t do that!” Sehun yells, and suddenly Luhan feels a rough hand restricting his arm, pulling Luhan forward forcefully. His knees skid over the concrete floor. “Stop ruining yourself!” Sehun commands, and then a deafening slap hits his cheek, Luhan feeling himself starting to lose consciousness as the world before him begins to blur. Whether it’s from the blood he’s losing, or the pain, or the vile shock finally setting in, he doesn’t know, but his vision fades to black while he looks up at Sehun’s infuriated face, seeing a savage madman and nothing else.
*
The next time he wakes up he is spread eagle on the floor with his front down, his arms and legs being pulled and stretched painfully from being tied to different things on each end that hold him in place. He can barely life his chin off the ground.
Sehun is in the room with him already. Luhan can see him sitting in a chair in a corner of the room, looking calm and collected. But his hands, that are clasped together, are full of blood. He’s staring at Luhan with expressionless eyes, and Luhan hold them this time.
He has fresh tears down his face, and he starts sobbing once the pain hits him again like a hard blow to his sanity.
“I had to fix you up. You ruined my work, but I fixed it. You can fly again now.”
Luhan rubs his face against the floor, trying to soothe his splitting headache. “Please, Sehun, listen to yourself-“
“You shouldn’t move so much,” Sehun says calmly, his hands clasped together in front of him. “You might hurt your wings. I don’t want you to hurt.”
Luhan feels anger gripping him and he shoots his head up, glaring at the younger boy from his position on the ground. “I am hurting, you bastard! You hurt me! You did this! You’re fucking crazy!”
Luhan regrets the words he’s said as soon as they come out of his mouth, and bites his dried bloody lip, turning away from the younger boy. Sehun has gotten up, and is striding over the floor to him slowly, looking like he’s slightly limping. Luhan turns his face away from him, scared beyond anything and wary of his raw and naked body that’s spread out on the ground, susceptible to any harm Sehun should chose to inflict upon him.
A hand comes to his wrists, and he shrieks. He feels the rope on his hands being undone, but he is panicking even more now because this can’t be leading to anything good. Sehun’s hands are still warm and gentle, and once they’re done untying his arms, they move down to his ankles and untie the rope binding him there.
“P-please, Sehun, let me go,” Luhan chokes, flexing his fingers slightly and moving his wrists that are sore and stiff. “I won’t tell anyone what you did, I promise. Just let me go to the hospital before my wounds become infected. This can kill me.”
Sehun doesn’t say anything, as usual, and all he can do is lay there, trapped in his stiff body, while Sehun pulls him up from the floor, all the way to his unsteady feet this time. Luhan’s legs are hurting, and his knees give, but Sehun hold his up with strong arms, mindful of the giant wings that are still sticking out of Luhan’s back.
Luhan screams as he feels the weight of the wings pulling down, and he is sure he can feel his skin tearing again, gravity doing its cruel job.
“It’s okay, I think you’re ready,” Sehun says, and Luhan is certain by now that he’s mostly talking to himself.
What happens after that if a blur because he can only feel pain and can only see through a wall of tears, and all he feels is Sehun helping him along to somewhere, his bare feel walking over concrete and then grass, until it’s back on concrete, and he can hear cars.
“W-where are you taking me?”
They walk quite far, and Sehun doesn’t speak to him. Luhan wants to complain that he is tired and will fall apart soon, but Sehun is adamant about pulling him forward, practically lifting him to reach their destination.
Luhan only quickens to when he feels Sehun pushing him up some steps, and he blinks away tears incessantly to see that he is faced with a long spiral staircase. His legs automatically move up, and Sehun ushers him on from behind, lifting his legs if Luhan takes too long on a certain step.
When they get to the top Luhan feels wind, and lots of it. He feels cold, outside air, and a whipping wind hitting his face and naked body. He shivers violently and forces his eyes open.
He’s staring out over the city, millions of lights blinking at him in a sea of buildings and street lamps, all far, far below him. He must be at the roof of a tall building, and he instantly feels his fear of heights kick in, so he turns around the best he can, gripping on to Sehun with unyielding arms, and the other boy is just standing there, still like a statue while Luhan clings to his steady frame like a baby koala.
Luhan cries into Sehun’s shirt, breathing in the scent he used to love so much and rubs his face into his chest, scared to let go. He doesn’t want to know what they’re doing up there, what in the world Sehun has planned for him while he’s still in such a state, and naked at that. What could they possibly do up on the roof of a building, and in such harsh weather? Does anyone know they’re up here? Can’t they see them?
Sehun pulls him from his chest with careless hands, and Luhan whines, but then Sehun cups his cheeks tenderly and leans in to kiss him full on the mouth, which Luhan melts into it because it’s the only comfort and tenderness he’s felt in so long, and he would take that over harsh jerks and hits any day.
“Are you ready to fly from your nest?” He says as Sehun pulls back, looking straight into Luhan’s eyes with a dead serious expression. Luhan stares back at him with wide eyes, not understanding a single thing. He buries his hands into Sehun’s shirt and grips it tight, afraid to be forced away from him at this point. “When you love something, you have to let it go. That’s what everyone says. So I’m going to let you go. You have to be majestic and free, with your own people. I fixed you, so you have to go home now.”
Luhan just stares at him open-mouthed, unable to do anything or react or speak because he can’t get his brain to function and can’t make sense of Sehun’s ludicrous words.
Soon Luhan feels himself be pushed backwards, Sehun holding each of his wrists up against his chest and walking with him towards the edge of the building.
“S-Sehun,” Luhan squeaks, his voice broken and quiet and forced out in disbelief, and he can’t fight against him, can’t even try to stop him. Sehun just keeps moving him back, back, back, until Luhan feels the back of his knees hit a solid edge.
He doesn’t dare look behind him, because he knows what’s there. He knows that behind him is endless nothingness, a fall into his death, and he just stands there still, scared stiff, the pain in his back long forgotten and the tears dried from the wind.
“Perfect. You’re perfect. My angel.”
Luhan hates Sehun’s voice. He hates him. He hates what he’s doing, but he can’t speak or convince him to stop, because he’s frozen. Memories play in his head of what feels like just yesterday when they were watching Constantine and drinking soju in his room, with the slightly romantic setting, their bodies satisfyingly tired from dancing all day. He was smitten. In love. He remembers how warm he felt. Luhan thinks he can almost feel that warmth right now, even if he is naked and high in the air. He can’t feel his body, but he thinks he feels warm. Sehun is staring at him and holding his wrists, and Luhan just stares back.
His body tilts a little, and he can feel his center weight tip over. Sehun his pushing him back, pushing him over the edge of the building. Luhan doesn’t cry or scream or try to grab for something, because he can’t. He is spellbound.
“Freeze!”
He is waiting to feel wind under him and the tingling sensation of falling through the air many stories down, but he is still vertical, and Sehun is still holding his wrists.
“Don’t move!”
He stays in that position for quite a while, his joints stuck and his whole body numb. He thinks he can feel his heartbeat slow from the insane cold he is feeling, but he’s not shivering anymore.
Suddenly there is nobody holding his wrists anymore, and he lets out a silent and nonexistent scream, prepared to fall to his death, but there are arms on him, grabbing him, everywhere, and he is pulled forwards instead, no air under him and no tickly feeling in his stomach for tumbling down ten stories.
“Hold him down, he could still be dangerous!”
Luhan is disoriented above everything, but gentle hands are leading him forward and away from the ledge of the building, and he follows like the puppet he feels like he has become, stiff legs stumbling with each step. His eyes are still wide and he can’t move them, but he thinks he feels something warm around his shoulders that he assumes is some sort of a blanket. His body hasn’t been covered for weeks. It feels strange, this fabric touching his body. He feels like he’ll get a rash from it. It’s suffocating.
There’s a light shining in his eyes, and he whimpers, actual sound escaping him for the first time since he’s been lead away from the ledge. The light moves to his other eye, shining straight into it. Luhan tries to shut his eyes, but then one of them is pried open, and he just lets himself be prodded and guided around until he feels himself being sat down on a stretcher.
He takes in more of what’s going on now, more of his surroundings, and he can see that there are many people there, but most of all policemen, rushing back and forth. The police are crowding around one certain spot on the roof, and a few of them have their guns drawn.
There are paramedics around Luhan, feeling parts of his body and pricking him with things and lifting him. In the distance Luhan thinks he can see some familiar people, and he blinks his dry eyes to try and make sense of the shapes and colours in his head.
The first thing he sees is Suho. Suho is standing there a few feet away, looking at him. Luhan thinks his expression is worried…shocked…sad, maybe. Beside Suho is Kai, and Kai’s face is stiff just like Luhan’s feels. They’re standing behind a barrier the police have just put up. Luhan doesn’t know how they all got there. How they all found him. More of his members are there too, and he thinks he can see Chanyeol crying somewhere on the right.
“I know there are sick people in the world, but this…”
The paramedics are talking around him, and he feels an oxygen mask being placed over his face, and suddenly it’s a little more comfortable to breathe. Maybe he’s safe now.
He wants to close his eyes and give in to the tiredness that’s pulling him down, to finally will his muscles to unclench and relax, but then he remembers.
He turns to look over at Sehun, who is standing in between two large policemen with his arms cuffed behind his back, looking like a harmless kid who has just eaten way too little the past month or so and Sehun-
Sehun is just smiling at him.
a/n: wow writing stories about crazy people is so much fun lol. but like i said, this probably has loads of spelling errors because it's like 3am, but i'll re-read it tomorrow. i might write a sequel to this, but i'm not sure.. hope you liked it?