"My Beautiful One" [8]
Title: My Beautiful One (CH.8)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Onho, others by chapter
Notes: Okay so I totally lied about getting over that wall. =| I didn’t expect this story to explode like it did last chapter, lmao. Thank you so much for the comments and support everyone, and I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it. This chapter is a bit more light-hearted to try and balance out the previous one, but should still have a decent amount of story development while I figure out where I want this to go. … lolz.
[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight]
---
Jinki called in sick the next day.
As he was on the phone with his boss, he discovered that he wouldn’t have had to come in anyway. The library was closed for the day due to another murder that had sprung up - a murder that Jinki knew all too well. So much blood; so much red painted on the window and just thinking about it made his stomach do backflips. Thanking the man and apologizing for disturbing him at such an early hour, Jinki ended the call and lightly tossed his phone on the end table. In the short time frame, Jinki became so sucked into his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the device slide off of the surface and onto the floor. He sighed, slowly lowering himself back onto the mattress, cautious of the sleeping boy beside him, Taemin’s arms looped around his midsection. For a moment, he simply studied him, and how even in almost complete darkness, he could see how puffy his eyes were. ’Taemin…’ The boy had warned him… but had he listened? Hah.
After the message on the window, Jinki was surprised he hadn’t fallen unconscious. His throat was raw, and his legs so weak that it took him a full fifteen minutes to regain enough strength just to get the fuck out of that building. He’d wanted to wait for Minho - he really had, but if he’d spent that long crying beneath a table and not seeing any sign of his paranormal romancer, chances were he wasn’t going to come back that evening. He took a different door, wanting to avoid any possible chance of bumping into whatever sick individual felt like finger painting at that obscure hour. However, even in Jinki’s extreme ‘fight or flight’ state of mind; even as he fell clumsily into his car and dropped his keys six times before successfully getting them into the ignition, even as his body quivered and his clenched stomach threatened to empty that nights dinner… he couldn’t help but wonder…
’Where did he run off to?’ Jinki stared blankly at the ceiling, fingers lightly stroking the hair of the boy whom had long since fallen asleep. Taemin had more or less given him a love confession when he came through the door, the boy locking him in a tight embrace and sobbing into his shoulder over how scared he was; how the news of the slaughter had spread like wild fire and authorities were on the scene not ten minutes after he left. And who could blame him? Especially when said murder happened the exact hour he’d been working. Well, really it had been the hour he was getting worked by Minho’s sinful mouth and incredible hands. Jinki’s finger’s halted, the young man taking a moment to blush deeply at the memory.
He had no one to blame but himself for letting things get that far. Then again, he was probably batshit insane for still feeling some kind of attachment to Minho after everything he’d put him through. Jinki could excuse the creepy stalker-esque attitude, but the incident after the play, being ravaged while on the clock, and noticing some of his teeth were a little bit too sharp… anyone with any concern for their own safety would have taken off a long time ago. Of course, it wasn’t that Jinki didn’t care about what happened to him. It was just that… well… he really had no idea what it was that kept him coming back to Minho. Even despite all of the signs that said “I’m a sociopath from some kind of fucked up dimension and I’m going to suck out your internal organ through your nose, okay?” Jinki never kicked him out, he never ignored him, and he always looked for him on his work shifts. In fact… wouldn’t this be the first day Jinki went without seeing him?
Jinki sighed, removing his hand from Taemin’s scalp to instead drape it over his eyes. The only thing he could do was try to get some sleep, and possibly wake up in an hour or two for the sake of dragging Taemin out of bed. There was always the possibility that the youth would get himself up, of course. There was also the possibility that said youth would cough and insist ‘no hyung, I’m sick, really!’ Interestingly enough, he always disagreed quite strongly when it came to scheduling a doctors appointment or getting a shot packed full of vitamins and good-for-you juice. Magically, Taemin always made a full recovery within 24 hours. Whatever situation fate decided to throw at him, Jinki decided he could deal with it once the sun was actually up.
During that moment between sleep and reality, Jinki thought he heard Taemin fall and scream something regarding a ‘devil-bug in his shirt drawer.’
A few hours later, he wasn’t even sure if he’d dreamt the whole thing or not. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, trying to block out the beams of sunlight spilling through the blinds and harassing his sensitive optics. The sun was long since up, which meant Taemin was gone and off to school. Jinki sighed, allowing himself to simply relax in the bed for a few more short moments. He needed to get up, cook himself something and check the news reports. With any luck, the authorities had actually gotten somewhere and he’d be able to go back to work the following night without fear of some other weirdo following him around. At least Minho was nice enough to not throw pieces of flesh at his window. Letting out one more sleep laden breath, Jinki sat himself up, slung his legs over the bed, and went off to start his day. Well… afternoon.
“Good morning.” For some reason the sound of a voice from the living room just wasn’t a big deal to Jinki, dismissing it with a grunt as he continued into the kitchen. He made it all the way to the fridge and actually opened the door before sprinting back out into the doorway, staring bug-eyed into the occupied room. Minho sat, book in his lap, flipping casually through the pages without so much as glancing up from the fine print. After a full minute passed with no noise however, he feared Jinki may have gone catatonic on him, and pulled those large eyes off of the documents. “You know,” he began, cover shutter between his hands, “my mother used to tell me that if you made a funny face for too long, it would freeze that way.” Jinki blinked and shut his mouth. Minho smiled. “I’m happy to see you’re doing al-”
“Get back!” Minho stared, dumbfounded, as Jinki fell over backwards and scurried into the kitchen. Considering the taller of the two was sitting, he couldn’t really get back any further. He leaned to one side, attempting to peek around the corner and into the kitchen where Jinki had retreated. His curiosity was further fueled by the sounds of various cupboards and drawers shifting, and soon enough, Minho was up on his feet. He couldn’t have taken more than three full strides before Jinki emerged again, wielding… what the fuck was he doing? The taller of the two frowned, Minho’s brow furrowing, trying his best to just hold his tongue and let what ever soul that had possessed this man to just… run its course. “I know what you are!” In one hand the librarian held a clove of garlic, in the other, a glass of water, and around his neck… a crucifix? The look on Minho’s face was too priceless for words to describe, and somehow it contorted into further hilarity when Jinki threw the herb at him.
“Jinki, what the hell are you doing?” The garlic was caught neatly between open palms, though it did cause the taller male to drop his book and scowl at the fallen literature. Oh, how he wished the other male, in his completely insane state of mind, would still manage to prove him wrong. But no, deep down in whatever remained of his heart, Minho knew he didn’t need to ask; he knew exactly what Jinki was doing, and exactly why he was doing it. Still he cringed at the thought, slowly processing a way to reason with the fable-driven man without getting his house a mess. The garlic was set down on the coffee table, and Minho stood. “Jinki, can we please t-“ his shirt was suddenly wet, his body stiffening at sudden chill the water brought on. Jinki squealed, stepping back in shock when, much to his surprise, Minho didn’t burst into flames. “Stop this.”
“N-no! You just - you just want me for my body!” Minho’s brow lifted so high upon his forehead it was amazing that it didn’t punch physics in the face and just float away. Jinki probably could have worded that phrase a bit better, since in all technicality, the reason behind Minho’s first advances had been what was insidehis body, not the body itself. However, that wording didn’t make it seem any less sexual. Instead, the taller man sighed, patting around for a napkin and attempting to dry the fabric that now clung to his abdomen. “Go away! I mean it!” A small smirk tugged at the edge of Minho’s lips, and after fixing what he could, stepped a bit closer. “I’m warning you!”
Clearly Minho saw no threat in Jinki’s words, because his steps didn’t cease. With trembling fingers, the librarian reached to his side and gripped the drawstring to the blinds. He slept late yes, but not late enough that the sun was down. Eyes slamming shut, he pulled the cord and drew the blinds up. Like before, he heard no shrieks of anguish or pop of flames - the grunt of irritation Minho provided didn’t count - and thus, a single chocolate optic slid open. Before him stood an irritated creeper, one hand shielding his sensitive eyes while the rest of his body sparkled in the sunbeams; quite literally twinkling as if he’d been showered in crushed diamonds. Jinki’s other eye opened, and his jaw slackened. “You’re shitting me.”
“I was helping Taemin with an art project,” he insisted, swiping the glitter off of his cheek and onto the floor, where it would surely give Jinki hell in its removal. “He got playful and threw a handful of glitter at me,” the taller stumbled, now close enough to Jinki to take the string from his grip and pull the blinds shut one again. “It stings when it gets in your eye, just so you know,” he heard the other start back tracking, and when he glanced up and saw the crucifix held at arms length, he let a heavy, annoyed sighed, gripping Jinki’s wrist, snagging the cross from his fingers and pitching it across the living room. It hit something and shattered it to pieces, but neither cared to look back and see what it happened to be. Jinki looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide, frozen, just waiting to get hit by a semi. In this case, it was a very handsome semi, and the ‘hit’ was really just a gentle caress to his cheek. “How many vampire novels have you read?”
“Enough to know y-”
“Don’t read anymore.” Jinki swallowed, but it seemed he was finally finished with his vampire slaying act. Minho released his captured wrist, pleased to see that the other didn’t run off into the kitchen and hide in a cabinet or something. “… I’m glad you’re okay.” Jinki blinked. Physically yes, he supposed he was fine, but the mental state last nights little happening had left him in was anything but ‘okay.’ Either way, he nodded, and once Minho was sure his fair lady wasn’t going to go on another rampage, he smiled softly, dropping his hand to instead place it in his pocket. Okay, so what he’d encountered was anything but a story book vampire, if that’s what Minho actually was. Maybe he was an incubus or a werewolf or some other twisted thing. Maybe he was just one of those creepy individuals that wore pointed caps on their teeth for the sake of being different, like those gaunt teenagers with the bad haircuts and too much makeup that lingered outside the nightclub. Maybe in the end, like it was discussed yesterday -
Jinki’s hands cupped the others face, suddenly pulling him in for a sweet, surprisingly longing kiss.
- he didn’t care what Minho was.
The taller of the two all but purred, leaning happily into the caress of his lips. It was short lived, perhaps because Jinki had just realized what he’d done, but it didn’t make the smile now present on Minho’s face any less bright. “Goodness,” he began, finding a great deal of humor in the shade of pink now on the other mans face, “did you miss me?” Jinki said nothing, however, Minho took the absence of words as a response in itself. “I’d make it up to you, but I don’t have much time to chit chat with you this afternoon. Let’s get down to business shall we?” The longer-haired male was snapped out of his la-la-land when he was suddenly gripped roughly by his shoulders. He stared wide-eyed at him, stared at those large eyes that seemed to be a looking glass right into the struggle he was having within himself. Minho winced. “You know what I have to do, don’t you.”
The question wasn’t so much regarding the action, but whether or not Jinki knew and understood why he had to do what he did, and if he accepted it. He nodded slowly, but Jinki wasn’t about to cower and accept this so called ‘fate,’ because frankly, Jinki valued his humanity, and he didn’t like his meals to taste like blood. “I don’t - No. You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“It won’t hurt,” Those eyes again. Those hungry eyes, black mixing with scarlet to turn into a hue vaguely resembling dirty blood. “Just a small pinch… it’s actually quite enjoyable when you get past that.” He swallowed nervously, and my God if Minho wasn’t teetering dangerously high on the ‘frightening’ scale before, the way his eyes lit up at the feel of his quickening pulse definitely did the trick. Jinki jerked back in an attempt to free himself, but the grip on his was too great, and it only caused Minho’s hold to tighten, almost painfully so.
“Why me?” He choked out. What was even going on? Minho had been so sincere to him. That he liked him, that he wanted him to like him too, that he didn’t want him to run anymore, that he wouldn’t hurt him, he wouldn’t lie to him… or had all that in itself been a lie? Minho’s fingers twitched. Jinki’s eyes burned. He was angry, he was terrified, but more than anything, he was heartbroken. “You’re like him, aren’t you?” He continued, Minho studying him as he spoke, “that man last night. The one in the window. Are you all like that?” Something in him snapped. As far as Jinki knew, it was a lot more difficult to visually see when someone else had internally broken, but it was as if he had just watched a mirror shatter. Minho’s eyes were wide, and his shoulders seemed to slump. When his face rapidly approached his neck, Jinki yelped and braced himself.
For that half second, Jinki hoped that the pain was one thing Minho hadn’t lied to him about; that everything would be there and gone in the blink of an eye, then he could just move on with his life. Or… afterlife… whatever it was that was considered. But what about Taemin? Yes, all of that time with Minho would be nice he supposed, but the younger boy would always have priority, regardless of which prince charming rode in and bit him on the neck. He couldn’t just… leave him. Laws and legal guardianship aside, the thought of Taemin being alone just tore him up inside. Much like how he thought his neck would be, but instead all he felt was the other man’s forehead against his shoulder. “… Minho?”
“In this world, you can’t take without giving,” Jinki wasn’t sure where this was going to lead, but he knew from experience how he enjoyed speaking in riddles. For now, all he could do was listen, “in our world, especially, it’s a lot of taking. You can feed and not kill. It’s… borrowing, if you will. Those books you read… for the most part it’s a load of shit… but bits and pieces have some truth to them,” he released an unsteady breath, “our kind can be the hellish creatures that nightmares are made of or nearly as harmless as a kitten. It’s all a matter of exchange.” Jinki arched a brow, “The more power you crave and acquire… the less human you become. What he is - what you saw,” Minho hesitated, but Jinki dared not urge him forward. “… is a fine example of what happens when one takes too much. He looks human and that’s about the extent of it.”
“You should have been dead days ago.” His blood ran cold. “They wanted you either changed or eaten, and I can’t bring myself to do either of them. I don’t want to do that to you Jinki. And I don’t want to resemble him.” For a moment, Jinki thought his voice wavered. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen if I don’t. To you, to me, to Taemin… It’s a dangerous dance Jinki, and one misstep will send us all into the fire.” It made sense now. Slowly, the smaller man lifted his hand, stroking the ebony tresses on the other’s head. Perhaps it had been too long since the taller had last felt the emotion, but Jinki knew it well. Minho was afraid, and for him to be so scared of possible consequences… Jinki figured he’d gotten off easy with just a blood smeared message on the library window. Beneath his touch, Minho eased. “Sweet Jinki, please listen to me. Know that I won’t be like him; that you’re precious to me and I’ll be the same a hundred years from now as I am today… and I promise I’ll never let him near you.”
He felt lips press against his shoulder, trailing up the barely exposed portion of flesh. Alternatives… there had to have been an alternative to all this. If he just had a bit more time and if Minho wasn’t so sure he’d be dismembered, he may have been able to sit down and work something out with him. As it was though, his choices were limited, and as Minho’s mouth trailed further up his neck, one of those was beginning to seem better than the others. Jinki shuddered, eyes going half-lidded as Minho’s tongue traced the thick vein on his neck, lips following shortly after. “Jinki,” he spoke against the moist flesh, “do you trust me?”
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Onho, others by chapter
Notes: Okay so I totally lied about getting over that wall. =| I didn’t expect this story to explode like it did last chapter, lmao. Thank you so much for the comments and support everyone, and I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it. This chapter is a bit more light-hearted to try and balance out the previous one, but should still have a decent amount of story development while I figure out where I want this to go. … lolz.
[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight]
---
Jinki called in sick the next day.
As he was on the phone with his boss, he discovered that he wouldn’t have had to come in anyway. The library was closed for the day due to another murder that had sprung up - a murder that Jinki knew all too well. So much blood; so much red painted on the window and just thinking about it made his stomach do backflips. Thanking the man and apologizing for disturbing him at such an early hour, Jinki ended the call and lightly tossed his phone on the end table. In the short time frame, Jinki became so sucked into his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the device slide off of the surface and onto the floor. He sighed, slowly lowering himself back onto the mattress, cautious of the sleeping boy beside him, Taemin’s arms looped around his midsection. For a moment, he simply studied him, and how even in almost complete darkness, he could see how puffy his eyes were. ’Taemin…’ The boy had warned him… but had he listened? Hah.
After the message on the window, Jinki was surprised he hadn’t fallen unconscious. His throat was raw, and his legs so weak that it took him a full fifteen minutes to regain enough strength just to get the fuck out of that building. He’d wanted to wait for Minho - he really had, but if he’d spent that long crying beneath a table and not seeing any sign of his paranormal romancer, chances were he wasn’t going to come back that evening. He took a different door, wanting to avoid any possible chance of bumping into whatever sick individual felt like finger painting at that obscure hour. However, even in Jinki’s extreme ‘fight or flight’ state of mind; even as he fell clumsily into his car and dropped his keys six times before successfully getting them into the ignition, even as his body quivered and his clenched stomach threatened to empty that nights dinner… he couldn’t help but wonder…
’Where did he run off to?’ Jinki stared blankly at the ceiling, fingers lightly stroking the hair of the boy whom had long since fallen asleep. Taemin had more or less given him a love confession when he came through the door, the boy locking him in a tight embrace and sobbing into his shoulder over how scared he was; how the news of the slaughter had spread like wild fire and authorities were on the scene not ten minutes after he left. And who could blame him? Especially when said murder happened the exact hour he’d been working. Well, really it had been the hour he was getting worked by Minho’s sinful mouth and incredible hands. Jinki’s finger’s halted, the young man taking a moment to blush deeply at the memory.
He had no one to blame but himself for letting things get that far. Then again, he was probably batshit insane for still feeling some kind of attachment to Minho after everything he’d put him through. Jinki could excuse the creepy stalker-esque attitude, but the incident after the play, being ravaged while on the clock, and noticing some of his teeth were a little bit too sharp… anyone with any concern for their own safety would have taken off a long time ago. Of course, it wasn’t that Jinki didn’t care about what happened to him. It was just that… well… he really had no idea what it was that kept him coming back to Minho. Even despite all of the signs that said “I’m a sociopath from some kind of fucked up dimension and I’m going to suck out your internal organ through your nose, okay?” Jinki never kicked him out, he never ignored him, and he always looked for him on his work shifts. In fact… wouldn’t this be the first day Jinki went without seeing him?
Jinki sighed, removing his hand from Taemin’s scalp to instead drape it over his eyes. The only thing he could do was try to get some sleep, and possibly wake up in an hour or two for the sake of dragging Taemin out of bed. There was always the possibility that the youth would get himself up, of course. There was also the possibility that said youth would cough and insist ‘no hyung, I’m sick, really!’ Interestingly enough, he always disagreed quite strongly when it came to scheduling a doctors appointment or getting a shot packed full of vitamins and good-for-you juice. Magically, Taemin always made a full recovery within 24 hours. Whatever situation fate decided to throw at him, Jinki decided he could deal with it once the sun was actually up.
During that moment between sleep and reality, Jinki thought he heard Taemin fall and scream something regarding a ‘devil-bug in his shirt drawer.’
A few hours later, he wasn’t even sure if he’d dreamt the whole thing or not. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, trying to block out the beams of sunlight spilling through the blinds and harassing his sensitive optics. The sun was long since up, which meant Taemin was gone and off to school. Jinki sighed, allowing himself to simply relax in the bed for a few more short moments. He needed to get up, cook himself something and check the news reports. With any luck, the authorities had actually gotten somewhere and he’d be able to go back to work the following night without fear of some other weirdo following him around. At least Minho was nice enough to not throw pieces of flesh at his window. Letting out one more sleep laden breath, Jinki sat himself up, slung his legs over the bed, and went off to start his day. Well… afternoon.
“Good morning.” For some reason the sound of a voice from the living room just wasn’t a big deal to Jinki, dismissing it with a grunt as he continued into the kitchen. He made it all the way to the fridge and actually opened the door before sprinting back out into the doorway, staring bug-eyed into the occupied room. Minho sat, book in his lap, flipping casually through the pages without so much as glancing up from the fine print. After a full minute passed with no noise however, he feared Jinki may have gone catatonic on him, and pulled those large eyes off of the documents. “You know,” he began, cover shutter between his hands, “my mother used to tell me that if you made a funny face for too long, it would freeze that way.” Jinki blinked and shut his mouth. Minho smiled. “I’m happy to see you’re doing al-”
“Get back!” Minho stared, dumbfounded, as Jinki fell over backwards and scurried into the kitchen. Considering the taller of the two was sitting, he couldn’t really get back any further. He leaned to one side, attempting to peek around the corner and into the kitchen where Jinki had retreated. His curiosity was further fueled by the sounds of various cupboards and drawers shifting, and soon enough, Minho was up on his feet. He couldn’t have taken more than three full strides before Jinki emerged again, wielding… what the fuck was he doing? The taller of the two frowned, Minho’s brow furrowing, trying his best to just hold his tongue and let what ever soul that had possessed this man to just… run its course. “I know what you are!” In one hand the librarian held a clove of garlic, in the other, a glass of water, and around his neck… a crucifix? The look on Minho’s face was too priceless for words to describe, and somehow it contorted into further hilarity when Jinki threw the herb at him.
“Jinki, what the hell are you doing?” The garlic was caught neatly between open palms, though it did cause the taller male to drop his book and scowl at the fallen literature. Oh, how he wished the other male, in his completely insane state of mind, would still manage to prove him wrong. But no, deep down in whatever remained of his heart, Minho knew he didn’t need to ask; he knew exactly what Jinki was doing, and exactly why he was doing it. Still he cringed at the thought, slowly processing a way to reason with the fable-driven man without getting his house a mess. The garlic was set down on the coffee table, and Minho stood. “Jinki, can we please t-“ his shirt was suddenly wet, his body stiffening at sudden chill the water brought on. Jinki squealed, stepping back in shock when, much to his surprise, Minho didn’t burst into flames. “Stop this.”
“N-no! You just - you just want me for my body!” Minho’s brow lifted so high upon his forehead it was amazing that it didn’t punch physics in the face and just float away. Jinki probably could have worded that phrase a bit better, since in all technicality, the reason behind Minho’s first advances had been what was insidehis body, not the body itself. However, that wording didn’t make it seem any less sexual. Instead, the taller man sighed, patting around for a napkin and attempting to dry the fabric that now clung to his abdomen. “Go away! I mean it!” A small smirk tugged at the edge of Minho’s lips, and after fixing what he could, stepped a bit closer. “I’m warning you!”
Clearly Minho saw no threat in Jinki’s words, because his steps didn’t cease. With trembling fingers, the librarian reached to his side and gripped the drawstring to the blinds. He slept late yes, but not late enough that the sun was down. Eyes slamming shut, he pulled the cord and drew the blinds up. Like before, he heard no shrieks of anguish or pop of flames - the grunt of irritation Minho provided didn’t count - and thus, a single chocolate optic slid open. Before him stood an irritated creeper, one hand shielding his sensitive eyes while the rest of his body sparkled in the sunbeams; quite literally twinkling as if he’d been showered in crushed diamonds. Jinki’s other eye opened, and his jaw slackened. “You’re shitting me.”
“I was helping Taemin with an art project,” he insisted, swiping the glitter off of his cheek and onto the floor, where it would surely give Jinki hell in its removal. “He got playful and threw a handful of glitter at me,” the taller stumbled, now close enough to Jinki to take the string from his grip and pull the blinds shut one again. “It stings when it gets in your eye, just so you know,” he heard the other start back tracking, and when he glanced up and saw the crucifix held at arms length, he let a heavy, annoyed sighed, gripping Jinki’s wrist, snagging the cross from his fingers and pitching it across the living room. It hit something and shattered it to pieces, but neither cared to look back and see what it happened to be. Jinki looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide, frozen, just waiting to get hit by a semi. In this case, it was a very handsome semi, and the ‘hit’ was really just a gentle caress to his cheek. “How many vampire novels have you read?”
“Enough to know y-”
“Don’t read anymore.” Jinki swallowed, but it seemed he was finally finished with his vampire slaying act. Minho released his captured wrist, pleased to see that the other didn’t run off into the kitchen and hide in a cabinet or something. “… I’m glad you’re okay.” Jinki blinked. Physically yes, he supposed he was fine, but the mental state last nights little happening had left him in was anything but ‘okay.’ Either way, he nodded, and once Minho was sure his fair lady wasn’t going to go on another rampage, he smiled softly, dropping his hand to instead place it in his pocket. Okay, so what he’d encountered was anything but a story book vampire, if that’s what Minho actually was. Maybe he was an incubus or a werewolf or some other twisted thing. Maybe he was just one of those creepy individuals that wore pointed caps on their teeth for the sake of being different, like those gaunt teenagers with the bad haircuts and too much makeup that lingered outside the nightclub. Maybe in the end, like it was discussed yesterday -
Jinki’s hands cupped the others face, suddenly pulling him in for a sweet, surprisingly longing kiss.
- he didn’t care what Minho was.
The taller of the two all but purred, leaning happily into the caress of his lips. It was short lived, perhaps because Jinki had just realized what he’d done, but it didn’t make the smile now present on Minho’s face any less bright. “Goodness,” he began, finding a great deal of humor in the shade of pink now on the other mans face, “did you miss me?” Jinki said nothing, however, Minho took the absence of words as a response in itself. “I’d make it up to you, but I don’t have much time to chit chat with you this afternoon. Let’s get down to business shall we?” The longer-haired male was snapped out of his la-la-land when he was suddenly gripped roughly by his shoulders. He stared wide-eyed at him, stared at those large eyes that seemed to be a looking glass right into the struggle he was having within himself. Minho winced. “You know what I have to do, don’t you.”
The question wasn’t so much regarding the action, but whether or not Jinki knew and understood why he had to do what he did, and if he accepted it. He nodded slowly, but Jinki wasn’t about to cower and accept this so called ‘fate,’ because frankly, Jinki valued his humanity, and he didn’t like his meals to taste like blood. “I don’t - No. You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“It won’t hurt,” Those eyes again. Those hungry eyes, black mixing with scarlet to turn into a hue vaguely resembling dirty blood. “Just a small pinch… it’s actually quite enjoyable when you get past that.” He swallowed nervously, and my God if Minho wasn’t teetering dangerously high on the ‘frightening’ scale before, the way his eyes lit up at the feel of his quickening pulse definitely did the trick. Jinki jerked back in an attempt to free himself, but the grip on his was too great, and it only caused Minho’s hold to tighten, almost painfully so.
“Why me?” He choked out. What was even going on? Minho had been so sincere to him. That he liked him, that he wanted him to like him too, that he didn’t want him to run anymore, that he wouldn’t hurt him, he wouldn’t lie to him… or had all that in itself been a lie? Minho’s fingers twitched. Jinki’s eyes burned. He was angry, he was terrified, but more than anything, he was heartbroken. “You’re like him, aren’t you?” He continued, Minho studying him as he spoke, “that man last night. The one in the window. Are you all like that?” Something in him snapped. As far as Jinki knew, it was a lot more difficult to visually see when someone else had internally broken, but it was as if he had just watched a mirror shatter. Minho’s eyes were wide, and his shoulders seemed to slump. When his face rapidly approached his neck, Jinki yelped and braced himself.
For that half second, Jinki hoped that the pain was one thing Minho hadn’t lied to him about; that everything would be there and gone in the blink of an eye, then he could just move on with his life. Or… afterlife… whatever it was that was considered. But what about Taemin? Yes, all of that time with Minho would be nice he supposed, but the younger boy would always have priority, regardless of which prince charming rode in and bit him on the neck. He couldn’t just… leave him. Laws and legal guardianship aside, the thought of Taemin being alone just tore him up inside. Much like how he thought his neck would be, but instead all he felt was the other man’s forehead against his shoulder. “… Minho?”
“In this world, you can’t take without giving,” Jinki wasn’t sure where this was going to lead, but he knew from experience how he enjoyed speaking in riddles. For now, all he could do was listen, “in our world, especially, it’s a lot of taking. You can feed and not kill. It’s… borrowing, if you will. Those books you read… for the most part it’s a load of shit… but bits and pieces have some truth to them,” he released an unsteady breath, “our kind can be the hellish creatures that nightmares are made of or nearly as harmless as a kitten. It’s all a matter of exchange.” Jinki arched a brow, “The more power you crave and acquire… the less human you become. What he is - what you saw,” Minho hesitated, but Jinki dared not urge him forward. “… is a fine example of what happens when one takes too much. He looks human and that’s about the extent of it.”
“You should have been dead days ago.” His blood ran cold. “They wanted you either changed or eaten, and I can’t bring myself to do either of them. I don’t want to do that to you Jinki. And I don’t want to resemble him.” For a moment, Jinki thought his voice wavered. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen if I don’t. To you, to me, to Taemin… It’s a dangerous dance Jinki, and one misstep will send us all into the fire.” It made sense now. Slowly, the smaller man lifted his hand, stroking the ebony tresses on the other’s head. Perhaps it had been too long since the taller had last felt the emotion, but Jinki knew it well. Minho was afraid, and for him to be so scared of possible consequences… Jinki figured he’d gotten off easy with just a blood smeared message on the library window. Beneath his touch, Minho eased. “Sweet Jinki, please listen to me. Know that I won’t be like him; that you’re precious to me and I’ll be the same a hundred years from now as I am today… and I promise I’ll never let him near you.”
He felt lips press against his shoulder, trailing up the barely exposed portion of flesh. Alternatives… there had to have been an alternative to all this. If he just had a bit more time and if Minho wasn’t so sure he’d be dismembered, he may have been able to sit down and work something out with him. As it was though, his choices were limited, and as Minho’s mouth trailed further up his neck, one of those was beginning to seem better than the others. Jinki shuddered, eyes going half-lidded as Minho’s tongue traced the thick vein on his neck, lips following shortly after. “Jinki,” he spoke against the moist flesh, “do you trust me?”