Title: Your Love Is My Drug.
Author:
igmyeongcheonsaPairing: Ilhoon/OC
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1,336 words
A/N: So, little Jung Ilhoon is trying his best to become my ultimate bias. It's working. Don't tell Taemin. Anyway, I've been wanting to write a story about Ilhoon, more like have one written about me and him though.This is the baby plot bunny that grew up from it as a result. Enjoy~
Summary: Love changes people, whether for good or bad, and has a tendency of making self-control completely vanish in an instant.
I never thought that I would be a masochist. Unnecessary pain just isn't my thing. But how else could you explain the way I'm gasping for breath right now, my eyes not just watering but tearing over. The way my fingers are gripping at his hand, yet I'm not pulling him off, even though his harsh words against my ear are making me cringe even more. Yet, I can't fight this. I lost my will power to him a long time ago, probably before this even really began with him. I must be a masochist. I feel like I'm in love with a killer.
It started years ago when I was just a small girl. My mom was the number one housemaid for his family. After a small dispute with my father, my mother decided she would request to live at their mansion. It paid to have taken such good care of the master's family like she had because, instead of just being given a room in the mansion, she was given her own house on the property.
I wasn't officially living with just my mother until the end of the week she'd moved into the new house. I was introduced to the maids and butlers that my mother was in charge of as well as the master family, but even as young as I was, I could feel something gnawing at me about my new living situation.
"Princess, this is the young master, you will be his personal servant from now on, okay?"
This was how I first met him.
He was decently tall, even then, just about my height or a few centimeters taller. His eyes were sharp, though all of his features seemed to be. His lips were small and his body thin but lean.
"Noona will take care of me, right," he cocked his head to the side and smiled brightly.
All I ever remember after that about our meeting was nodding my head. To this day, I'm still not sure as to why I did nothing other that, but what's done is done, after all.
He never asked much of me until we were older. His biological noona was leaving the house to start a family all her own and to live out her dreams. I wanted to be like her, but I had a few more years to go. At least I finally had life goals I wanted to work toward, or so I thought.
Once his sister left, I felt like I was in his room every second of every minute of each day, filling his every command without a single notion of gratitude from him. As much as I hate to admit it, the first day he yelled at me for no reason I could figure out, and the fact that I enjoyed it, was the first sign that this boy would be the one that would take my life down a completely different path than the one that I wanted for my life.
The first year his noona was out of the house, his love, the pain he gave, it became a drug. I wanted more. Some days, it would get so bad that I would upset him on purpose just to see what he would do. In the beginning, he never hit me or laid a finger on me. It was just harsh words. Just threats and cold glares. It was easy to put up with.
Things changed even more when we became teenagers. He grew bold enough to hit me then, or just grip my arm or wrist enough to bruise. He was much taller than me by then. Whenever he would glare at me, his features would seem mature, other times, I could still the kid in his eyes and smile.
My mind knew it was all wrong. It always felt wrong, but, in the act, I could never get myself to tell him no or to push him away. Because I never said anything about it, it gradually began to escalate, which is how I ended up in my current dilemma.
I guess the best way to explain what was happening now was started by my curiosity winning me over. I hadn't been trying to upset him. That was a habit I'd stopped after he first began putting his hands on me. This was just mere curiosity. All I'd asked him was "Do you really enjoy hurting me?"
I guess in a way, I was asking for punishment, or maybe it's just the fact that he's growled said it so many times my ear already, that I'm having trouble believing otherwise.
I know better than to touch him, I've never been allowed to, but when I try to grip his arms, a hint of...sympathy or something like it flashes through his eyes. His reserve looks weak and he looks like he wants to cry, but I know he won't. It's not something he does. He never cries. He was raised around parents and an older sister that didn't seem to know the meaning of the word and action either.
"Stop making me do this to you," he chokes out. His grip on my throat loosening noticeably.
"M-Master Il-Ilhoon," I usually never say his name either. My common sense was out the window today though, along with pretty much all the air in my lungs.
Ilhoon breaks then, his eyes widen when I say his name. He drops his hand from my throat and my chest immediately starts heaving to gain oxygen, my vision getting less blurry. I don't have the power in me just yet to sit up, so I don't. My body cringes at the sound of glass shattering by the wall above my head. Thankfully, the shards miss me when they come crashing down to the floor.
"You don't even care that you're doing this to me, do you," he stalks back over to me, staring me directly in my eyes, my vision still a little blurred thanks to the tears. He cups my cheeks, his thumbs reaching up to clear the water from my eyes. I'll admit that I shut my eyes, my body shuddering from his touch and then going completely stiff when he takes a seat on the floor and pulls me into his lap.
He cradles me in his arms, which he's never, ever done. It scares me to say the least because, in my mind, he's just trying to sweeten up the moment for he kills me.
Ilhoon's head rests on my shoulder and it's not like I can push him off, I'm too weak at the moment anyway. He seems like he has more that he wants to say, still seems like he wants to cry though, but he doesn't. He's always been scared to show that side of himself. Both scared and defiant. "It's useless to she'd tears. They can't change a situation," a saying that he created himself and eventually adopted as his life motto.
My life has been in danger ever since I was first introduced to him, but, when he smiles at me, I forget the pain and my heart flutters. I know not to smile back, well, just to not let him see, so I always bow my head and smile.
Jung Ilhoon. Two years younger than me and a very intelligent and hardworking young man. He knows what he wants and what it takes to get it. He's ruthless in just about any situation but wise as well. Only when it comes to me, does he break down like this.
I like to think that I fuel him in some way, even if I have bruises and cuts and sometimes fractured bones to tend to. I must, because when I'm tucking him in his bed at night, I always hear him mumbling my name followed by him telling me he loves me.
Ilhoon's love is dangerous. It's poison. Yet it's my drug and I've already become an addict.