SBB 2012 Entry #06: Invictus (3/3)
Title: Invictus
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Final Word Count: 23,000
X
Jonghyun sat dejectedly on the steps of the public library, kicking his feet at the wet concrete as he waited for Taemin. He was tired and he wanted a drink, but they’d been up all night trying to figure out what “pure Love” meant. According to Taemin, the rose moon was just some poetic garbage for the full moon of June, which was at its fullest tonight, apparently, and if they didn’t figure out what it meant before midnight, they were stuck for a year. The singer looked up and over his shoulder when he heard footsteps, seeing a stormy looking Taemin coming down the stairs at him. The red-head looked more like a predator than anything, right now, and Jjong had to resist the urge to flee like a bunny in terror as the dancer sat down hard next to him.
“Got fucking nothing,” Taemin snarled at the sky as he leaned back on his elbows. “Every single hidden scripture, poem, fae language piece of crap in that library and nothing says anything about what the fuck ‘Pure Love’ is.” He grunted angrily and Jjong just sat next to him, curled tightly to himself, hands stuffed into his pockets as he moved his thighs back and forth, thinking. The Disney bullshit had led them to the Grimm Brothers, but even in their original, Germanic texts it had been true love and very much not Pure. They’d tried other old stories, tracing them back to places Taemin said had gates to Avalon, which Jjong was slowly beginning to believe was less of a really bad trip, and a whole lot more fucking real. They’d ruled out kissing under the moonlight, since they both accepted the fact that neither was in love with the other. “This is bullshit,” the changeling groaned. “We seriously need to figure this out. I’m probably going to die if I have to be in your head for another concert. You’re cranked up to eleven when you sing and I can’t take that kind of energy.”
“Sorry,” the blond muttered, dejectedly, licking his lips. It wasn’t like he purposely got revved up during concerts; it was just exhilarating being on stage like that. The singer was shivering, his body’s effort to keep him awake as the last bit of caffeine he’d had had ran out of his system screaming, apparently, since it never felt like it worked in the first place. He chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the people around them, like he’d been waiting for some kind of epiphany that would simultaneously explain their problem and teleport him back to his bed to sleep. After everything that’d happened, it seemed more than likely that it could happen that way. He felt like he was back in school again, after weeks of lessons, the teacher finally passes out the end-of-chapter test and its nothing like the practice questions. Jjong doubted that shouting about how he didn’t learn this shit would help, since it didn’t really ever help.
And then suddenly he got it. Springing to his feet, he grabbed Taemin’s elbow and dragged him back towards the library. “How old are you, Jesus Christ?” he muttered, as he muscled past people. “Looking for answers in textbooks, no one does that shit anymore.” Taemin was ominously silent, the calm before the storm, since Jjong could feel just how happy he wasn’t about being dragged like a child, as they reached the computer room and the singer stole the first free console. “Seriously, I should have thought of this sooner,” he groaned and shook the mouse on the computer around trying to get it to wake up. “If you want answers, you use Google.”
Taemin just blinked at him, his stormy anger turning into confusion as he watched the blond type away in the search bar. “I was born in 1850,” he blurted out, as he watched Jonghyun’s long, delicate looking fingers fumble on the keys. The singer glanced up at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape. “I’m serious,” the red-head defended, playing with some of his loose hair subconsciously. “I was a performer at the theater and I was taken by the fae, and I didn’t have enough strength or power to fight my way out until about two years ago. I didn’t have the internet when I was growing up, so I use books.”
“Oh,” Jonghyun muttered stupidly, turning back to the computer. “That’s rough, buddy,” he really didn’t know what to say, but the pleasant laugh that followed his remark lessened the atmosphere greatly, and he focused back on the internet search he was conducting. Lots of song lyrics, unfortunately. Jonghyun shook his head at that. Love songs were nice and all, but anything that had the words ‘pure love’ strung together like that was guaranteed pure sap. He continued on, looking for the reliable sites, like Yahoo Answers, or Wiki sites. “Ah, here we go!” he said, getting Taemin’s attention. “What does pure love mean? Lots of religious bullshittery. Oh, huzzah,” he deadpanned, his ‘too long, don’t read’ kicking in as he scrolled up and down past the answer, hoping that maybe something would catch his eye and make it make sense. Nothing did, so he backed out and clicked on another link.
Clearly the person who typed up the response to this didn’t understand the question, or adhere to standard, writing conventions, since their answer was not only hard to read, it down right didn’t make any sense. Rolling his eyes, Jjong scrolled down to the related questions sections, praying for something, anything, that would help because he was fucking tired and he just wanted this to be over. One of the answers clicked, for some reason. Like it just made sense, the type of thing that, when you see it or hear it, or fucking smell it, it was just perfect. “Oh my god, I’ve got it!” he hissed, highlighting the words for Taemin to see as he leaned close.
“Pure love is when you love someone no matter what they did,” the dancer read off, raising his eyebrow at the singer, and then looking back at the screen. “How are you so sure this is it?” he asked, then pointed to another one. “How do we know it’s not this one, ‘To die for your fellow man’ ?”
“Because,” Jonghyun hissed, closing out of the window and standing up. “Why would love have anything to do with death? Let’s go, I want a nap.” He said, tugging on Taemin’s arm, trying to get the changeling to move, but the red-head pulled his arm out of the singer’s grasp and scowled at the computer, before marching out on his own.
“You’re not napping,” the dancer said, as they walked to the car. “Just because we’ve figured out what it means doesn’t mean we know how to get it.”
Jonghyun groaned, slamming the passenger side door after he slid into his re-claimed mustang. Taemin still had his keys, and nuzzled into the soft leather seats. “It’s Jinki,” he muttered sleepily, the slight comfort already calling him to slumber. “Well, for me it is, anyway. No matter what I did, he’s always been there for me. I just have to go and talk to him. He’s stubborn when he’s heartbroken, and he has the self-esteem of a rock. I just need to…beg him to help, and then hope he listens, since he’s stubborn…I said that twice, didn’t I? I’m sleepy Taemin. Let’s go home,” he groaned, blinking puppy dog eyes at the red-head, the bags under them accented by the smudged make up and the dancer gave in, growling lightly as he drove them back to Jjong’s apartment.
He tucked the singer into bed and sat down in his kitchen, body still riding the high from last night, his legs jumping all over the place as he fought to just sit still. Hell, he was probably why Jjong was so tired, since he normally fed off of a crowd and now it was just one person. He looked over at the restless singer, his face pale in the sun that flooded through his inadequate windows, and chewed on his lip. He’d gotten worse as the night went on. Was it possible for Taemin to still be draining him? The red-head ran a hand through his hair and tugged lightly. There were reasons why human fae bonds were forbidden, he remembered, but since they so rarely happened, the actual reasons escaped him. He walked over and pushed some of the blonde’s hair out of his face, humming softly. Sure, another flood of energy like the concert would possibly cause Taemin to combust into pure energy, but as he studied the sleeping man, he became more convinced he was still syphoning his energies; Jjong might not make it another week, never mind another concert.
Growling he stalked around the room angrily. He didn’t know anything about positive energies. What was he supposed to do? Call an expert, He realized, like a light flipped on in his brain, and he turned to the sleeping boy. “Sorry Jjong,” he muttered, as he stripped the sleeping boy, who was really out of it, and flung the shades wide, trying not to get distracted by the warm glow the sun gave to the singer’s skin, as he opened the window. “Kim Kibum,” he whispered into the wind, “I give you permission.”
The wind that rushed by his nose smelled faintly of sex and petrichor, as the kitsune swept into the room, materializing next to Jonghyun in a swirl of dust. He ran his perfectly cared-for nails down Jonghyun’s muscular chest, purring in the back of his throat. Taemin snarled at him, using some of the power he’d collected to call a clap of thunder so loud it rattled the windows. Key jumped up, looking over at Taemin like he just noticed him, eyes wide and white-rimmed.
“Jesus Christ,” he yelped, jumping off the bed as soon as he saw the red-head. He put the still sleeping Jonghyun, who had just decided to roll over and give the fox a perfect view of his ass, between them, stuttering and stumbling over his apology as he tried to keep his eyes on Taemin, and not the naked treat before him. “Fuck, fuck, sorry, okay! Don’t just invite me in like that! What the fuck did you think I was going to do, huh?” Taemin scoffed and tossed a sheet over the sleeping human, grabbing the other fae by the ear and dragging him into the kitchen. “Okay, seriously, just because I used to be your herald doesn’t mean you can treat me like this! I have rights, damn it!”
The red-head turned on him the moment they were clear of the room Jjong was in. “Put your glamour on if he wakes up, I don’t want to have to explain you,” he snapped, and cowed, Key complied, turning into a pretty, black-haired boy, his sensuously-angled eyes betraying his foxy nature. “Listen, I have a problem, and you’re the only person I can trust.” The dancer confessed, looking down to play with his hands. Asking for help was never his strong suit, but the pissy look dropped off the other’s face so he took that as a good sign, and rushed into his question. “I fed off of Jjong’s rush from his performance last night. I didn’t mean to, but I needed to know the songs, I didn’t think it would be dangerous, but it nearly knocked me out when I came down, and he’s been dead on his feet for hours. Granted, we’ve been up all night, but I’ve seen him pull all-night drinking binges and he still looks better than he does now.” He rambled nervously, shooting a worried look into the other room. “Am I killing him?” he questioned, his voice small and lost as he stared hopefully at the fox.
Key clicked his tongue and reached over the squeeze Taemin’s hand. “You’re a lord, remember? You have to eat a lot,” he said carefully, a little alarmed when the dancer didn’t snap at him for the touch. “I’m not an energy reader, Tae, but I know that anger and ecstasy are both passion related. Pure joy is harder to come by, since it’s known to prolong humans lives.” He hummed, rubbing his hands over the red-head’s arms. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s possible that you are. I mean, so far from Avalon, yet you’re affecting the weather? You’re wired like a speed freak.” He looked over at the sleeping boy in the other room. “You’re killing your battery, though.”
Taemin sighed, prepared for that revelation. If Jjong was fae, he could have easily transferred the energy back to him, but as it were, it would be like trying to move water through a boulder. Instead, he grabbed Key’s hand and looked his old herald and only friend straight in the eye. “I fought the King and left Avalon, leaving you and my house behind. Are we still friends, Kibum?” he asked, trembling lightly. He would be doomed if this didn’t work. Doomed, and Jonghyun would be dead.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” the raven-haired boy asked, raising a perfectly sculptured eyebrow, but his eyes were kind, understanding, and almost motherly, for all that Taemin was truly centuries older than him.
“Then, I…we need your help,” Taemin implored, looking back once more at Jonghyun. “Tonight, at midnight, outside Avalon. Will you be there?”
“I wouldn’t miss it, my Lord.”
XI
Taemin agreed to wait outside when Jonghyun went to talk to Jinki. The singer was slightly unsettled by how kind and helpful the red-head was being, though he neglected to mention why he was naked when he woke up. He was still tired after his nap, and he hated when that happened, what the hell point was his nap, huh? Shrugging, he paced outside the strip joint’s door, trying to ignore Taemin’s pointed shooing motions. They had three hours until midnight, and Taemin was hurtling towards their deadline with some kind of new ferocity that he hadn’t had earlier in the day. He just kept saying that Jjong wouldn’t understand, and skirting the question, so the singer gave up.
With a huge sigh, He pushed the door open and went inside. It was still dark and almost overtly trashy. The sleazy music still thrummed through the crappy base that probably blew out years ago, but that the owner was too cheap to fix. Jinki was at the bar, looking worn down and generally worse for wear, a pretty, blond boy talking softly to the honey-colored head that hung low as he washed the polished wood. He approached slowly, flinching slightly at the scathing look the boy gave him. The singer half expected him to hiss and spit like the cat he was acting like. The stripper’s cut off murmuring caught Jinki’s attention, and he looked up, his eyes betraying the pure happiness the older man felt as he laid eyes on Jonghyun for the first time in weeks. They narrowed as he took in the blonde’s haggard look, and while Jinki looked like he’d had it rough, Jjong knew he looked like a walking train wreck.
“It’s okay, Ren,” Jinki said gently, smiling fatherly at the smaller boy, who nodded, and with one last, dark look at Jonghyun, literally pranced off into the back of the club, while Jinki turned back to Jjong. “You look terrible,” he muttered, moving around the bar to hug the singer tightly. “Like you haven’t slept in years. Are you eating? On anything? Do you need help? Is Juliette dead? Did you kill him? I think I know a good place for his body, not that I’ve imagined hiding a body, but you know, you can’t be too prepared.” He coughed, blushing slightly at the ramble, cupping the shorter boy’s face and kissing his forehead. “I was so worried.” His voice was thick with his emotions, and his hands trembled, so Jjong just hugged him. The older boy didn’t like people seeing him lose control of his emotions like this. Out bursts of joy were okay, but tears? Jinki couldn’t handle that, so the singer just held him until he stopped shaking.
“I’m okay, Hyung,” Jonghyun said, as they pulled apart, and he tried to remember the rambled questions. “I never was on anything, I do need help, no he’s not dead, he needs your help, too,” He rushed out, but Jinki pulled away from him as if Jjong burned, and turned away, back behind the bar. Jonghyun groaned and moved closer, leaning onto the bar to try and meet the older man’s eyes. “You need to listen, Hyung. Please. It’s complicated and I don’t have time to make you understand. I know I’ve been weird lately, I know it’s upsetting you, and I’m sorry. But Juliette’s as much a victim as I am and we both need your help.”
Jinki clutched his wash rag tight, his shoulders tense and his back towards the singer. “He’s bad for you, Jjong,” he hissed, pulling at one of the stay threads. “You look like death, you disappeared for three goddamn weeks without a word, and now you need me to help him? How strong do you think I am?” There was a tremble in his voice, pleading. Jinki would do anything for Jonghyun, felt responsible for him, and Jjong looked up to the older man like a brother. He hated that he couldn’t tell him what was happening, but how do you rationally sit someone down and tell them that you accidently bound yourself to some sort of fairytale creature, and it hurts if you’re too far apart, that you really were only gone a couple of hours when you travelled to a different dimension. Jinki was a pretty accepting guy, but Jonghyun was having a hard time believing all of this bullshit and he was living it.
“You just have to trust me,” he begged, reaching to grab the brunet’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “We’re friends right, Hyung? Family?” he asked, trying to see the bartender’s face, but he kept it hidden behind his hair, looking away from the singer. The blond sighed, pulling away from him, “Listen, I need you, please. Can you just…meet us where I called you to pick us up? It’s important, okay?” When Jinki didn’t show any signs of responding, the singer sighed again, rubbing his arms self-consciously as he turned and left the bar, casting one last hopeful look over his shoulder, locking eyes with Jinki, who had looked up. “Please,” he mouthed, and ducked out the door.
Taemin was there in an instant, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him to the car. Jjong almost couldn’t feel it over the ache in his chest. He’d been so sure that Jinki would have been his normal, cheerful self, ready to do anything. It hurt, worse that it hurt to be away from Taemin, and he curled up into a ball in the passenger seat as they drove out to the field. “I thought he would come,” he muttered, trembling and trying not to cry.
“He still might,” Taemin said light-heartedly, though Jjong could feel the fear through the bond, as he navigated the roads, reaching over to squeeze the singer’s hand lightly. “If you’re right about him, and he loves you, he’ll be there.”
“But what if I pushed him too far this time?” Jjong whispered into the silence of the car, as the city gave way to the forest.
“If pure love is really love despite all difficulties, you can never push that person too far, right?” Taemin asked, chancing a glance at him, as he looked for the right patch of dirt to pull off into. “You said it yourself, that was the definition, and it fit Jinki to a T.” He sighed, finally finding the spot and parking, turning the car off. “Believe in your friend, okay Jjong? He’s still got two hours before it’s…too late.” He looked down at the late part, swallowing hard.
The singer hummed and leaned his head back against the headrest. “This isn’t how I’d pictured things, you know,” he muttered tiredly, sighing heavily as he rolled his head over to look at Taemin. “Back in the alley. Sex, I had hoped for, I mean, you’re hot, who wouldn’t want to fuck you, but this whole, magical mystery mess? Never saw it coming.” He groaned and reached a hand up to rub his neck. “I feel like a totally different person from back then.” He smiled lightly at the red-head, “I guess, I should say thanks?”
Taemin blushed and stared hard at the steering wheel. “It’s my fault,” he said, shrugging self-consciously. “If I had been, you know, human, this never would have happened. And you…you changed me too, okay Jjong?” he laughed a little and opened the car door, sliding out. “Just when I thought I was getting too old for new tricks, too.” The singer chuckled and moved too, getting out and shutting the door, walking towards the forest, but stopping before entering it. Taemin knew he was scared, afraid of Avalon and its crazy king. “I won’t let him get you, you know,” he found himself saying, grabbing the blonde’s hand and guiding him gently away from the woods. “Minho. He may be king, but he’s never stepped foot outside Avalon. I’m stronger out here,” he assured, smiling.
About an hour before midnight, the whitest dove Jonghyun had ever seen appeared, landing on Taemin’s shoulder, who inclined his head like he was listening to the bird. Jjong had lied down in the sweet grass, tired and bored, just wanting it all to be over. He wondered if he should have expected it when the dove turned into a woman, but he still jumped. She was a short woman, white feathers braided into her blonde hair, skittish looking, too. Soon after she turned human, the girl from the bar showed, up, Amber. This time, she looked like she was trying to pull off a Joan of Arc costume, half armored with a sword in hand.
“Is that necessary?” he asked hesitantly, gesturing to the outfit. The raven-haired girl glared at him, tossing a disgruntled look at Taemin before turned back to him, sneering a little.
“We’ll find out, wont we?” she asked condescendingly, which took Jjong aback a little, and he looked down at his feet, playing with the hem of his shirt.
“Oh, give the human a break, Amber,” a new voice said, as warm arms wrapped around the singer’s middle. “It’s not like he knew who he was getting in bed with…quite literally, too.” There was a giggle, as perfectly manicured nails scratched at the blonde’s stomach over his shirt, and Jjong, having gone completely still, looked at Taemin pleadingly. There was only so much of this bullshit he could take before he cracked, and he was rapidly approaching that edge. A growl from Taemin made the new stranger back off with an audible pout, moving to stand next to the red-head, who glared at him. The pretty male, who’s black hair was accented with strands of kaleidoscope colors, didn’t have the decency to look shameful. He just wiggled his fingers at Jjong. “Hello, Lucifer~ I’m a huge fan!”
“Thanks?” the human muttered, feeling more objectified than usual as his ‘fan’ raked his fox-like eyes down his form hungrily. He looked back at the dove and cleared his throat. “S-so, what exactly are we supposed to do?” he asked, and his question seemed to startle her.
“Oh, dear!” She muttered, looking at him with a kind smile as she pressed a hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, I was caught up, um…I don’t know, exactly,” she giggled and tilted her head, “but, if you could stand in front of me, and Lord Taemin could stand behind me? That would be useful.” Her bright demeanor didn’t fit the dark one of the girl next to her, but Jjong found himself liking her the most.
As they got into position, Key leaned closer to Taemin, eyes guarded as he kept them on the singer. “Isn’t he missing someone?” the fox asked.
“His friend is hesitant to come because he doesn’t like me,” the dancer explained, sighing. “Maybe I should have talked to him? Told him that Jjong would die if he didn’t show up?”
Key shook his head as he stepped back, clasping the red-head on the shoulder encouragingly. “You did the right thing, Lord. He has to be here out of love, right? Guilting him into coming isn’t love.” He looked up at the moon, almost directly above them. “He has time, yet. Not all hope is lost.” He lowered his voice again, shooting a look at Luna and Amber before leaning in. “Should the worst happen you could always take him into Avalon. You’d no longer drain from him, and after a while he’d become a changeling, and your bond would no longer threaten to overtake him.”
“Never,” Taemin hissed, glaring at Key. “I know your intentions, and noble as they are, I cannot, will not, do that to someone.” The fox held his hands up in defeat, and Taemin felt a little bad. The herald had only been trying to help. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I’m tense, right now.”
“Think nothing of it,” the fox said with a sly grin, waving off the apology like he wasn’t blushing with the honor. Suddenly his head cocked to the side, and he turned towards the road, leaning closer to it as he listened. “Someone comes,” he muttered, looking back at Taemin for direction. The stronger changeling shrugged and looked over at Jonghyun, who sat dejectedly on the ground directly opposite Luna, fiddling with his jacket and sighing. He couldn’t hear the sound of the approaching motor, but Taemin wished he could, to give some sort of hope to the singer, but again, he was glad he couldn’t hear it just now, in case it wasn’t Jinki. Taemin didn’t think he had the heart to watch him be crushed again.
The sound got louder, everyone could hear it, and as Jonghyun looked up, he’d been fighting the urge to do so, to hope, Jinki’s car sped down the road, screeching to a stop only a few feet after the singer’s car. He pulled over and got out, hesitantly, eyeing the other four nervously as he skirted around them, rushing to Jjong’s side, who had stood up the moment the bartender had gotten out.
“You’re here,” he whispered, nervously as he bit his lip and looked over at Taemin, who looked like a mountain or stress had been taken off of his shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d come. You were so…” he shrugged and rubbed the back of his head, looking down at his shoes.
The bartender forced a laugh, shrugging good naturedly even as he kept an eye on the strangers his friend had been standing with. “When don’t I get your skinny ass out of trouble, huh? Admit it, Luci, you’re nothing without me.” He meant it as a jab, but his voice trembled at the end, going up a little like an unasked question, and the blond nodded, smiling at him.
“Just…stop calling me Luci already, Jesus.”
“If you girls are done,” Amber interrupted, drawing a circle in the ground with her sword, the grass parting and dying with its touch. “Step up to the circle and listen,” she instructed, stepping back as Luna moved ahead, tossing something that looked like gold into the air while the four boys stood on the line. The glitter swirled on the wind, flying higher and higher, until it covered the moon, or seemed too. Suddenly they were bathed in a rosy hue, as if the glitter had really covered the moon, turning it red. Jinki gasped next to Jjong, and moved to step back. Only the singer’s death grip on his hand kept him still, as Luna began to chant something in a language neither of them could understand. The blond prodded his bond with Taemin, who understood it, yet he was decisively shut out, with a wave of anger, as from across the circle the red-head glared at him.
“Pure love’s presence,” the dove said, turning to point at Key and Jinki, “under the rose moon waits, pure bloods to take, for the bond to break.” Before anyone could react, Amber struck, her sword sliding neatly into Jinki’s chest, pulling it out to cast the blood across the circle, and quick as a snake, repeated the process with Key. Their blood mixed on Luna’s white dress, a striking contrast. She spoke again, but Jonghyun had stopped listening the moment the armored woman’s sword pierced Jinki, as he clutched at his friend, who’s eyes where wide and shimmering, as his body trembled and rocked, and the breath hissed out of him, followed by a small whine, the slice in his chest sluggishly starting to bleed, and then he collapsed. The singer fell with him, pressing his hand over the wound as he shot a desperate look at Taemin, who has just finished laying Key onto the ground, but he didn’t look alarmed at all.
“T-taemin,” the blond whimpered, voice trembling as the other man looked up at him, the panic in his voice, over the bond, finally connecting. “Taemin, what? J-Jinki’s bleeding,” he said dumbly, looking down at the older man, who was panting harshly, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat.
“It’s okay, Jjong,” the dancer said quietly, standing up. Behind him, the snarky boy rolled over, like he hadn’t just been stabbed, as if he was just sleeping. Between them Luna was still chanting, and a cup had appeared out of nowhere. She gathered some of the blood off of Amber’s sword and sprinkled something into it, before bowing to Taemin and offering him the chalice. He looked at it hesitantly, before shifting his eyes to look at Jjong as he took the cup and drank from it.
The singer cried out, as it felt like he’d been struck by lightning, his grip tightened on Jinki as he bent over him, trembling in pain. A cool hand rested on the back of his neck. “Stand up,” the pretty female voice cooed, trying to lure him away. He didn’t want to, it hurt, Jinki was hurt. What the fuck was going on. No one was supposed to die, it wasn’t supposed to hurt. He whined in the back of his throat, shivering violently.
“Kim Jonghyun,” an authoritative voice echoed in his head, “Stand up now.” And he didn’t know why he did, but he pulled away from Jinki, blinking back tears as he looked down at Luna. She was smiling kindly at him, understandingly. And he hesitantly took the cup with his bloodstained hands, lifting it to his lips and draining the sweet liquid. As suddenly as the pain started it stopped, a sudden feeling of loneliness taking over as he dropped the chalice. He didn’t dwell on it much as he fell back to his knees, apologizing porously to Jinki, trying to put pressure back on the wound in his chest, only to find it wasn’t there, that the older boy hadn’t passed out from blood loss, but was simply sleeping. He gasped and looked up at Taemin, who’d walked around the circle to help him back onto his feet.
“Amber is a part of the Winder Court,” the dancer explained, wiping the tears from the singer’s face. “It’s against the laws for her to kill while she’s the tribute, or um, on lone I guess, so her sword heals all those she cuts.” He chuckled at the growl the woman let out, dropping his hands from Jonghyun’s face. “Needless to say, she doesn’t like it much.”
“Oh,” The blond said stupidly, licking his lips and looking down at his hands, “So… it’s done then? We’re…free, as it were?”
“It appears so” Taemin nodded, reluctantly pulling away from the muscular man and looking around. Key and Jinki were still sleeping, but Luna and Amber were making their exit. He shrugged and rubbed his arm, turning back to Jjong with a sheepish smile. “I’m, um…still out of a job, though, and an apartment. Do you…do you know of anywhere I can stay?”
Jonghyun laughed softly, rubbing at his watery eyes, he kept his hand on Jinki, just in case he was dreaming the mans return to health, needing to feel the warmth of life under his skin. “Yeah…yeah I think I might.” He wiped his hand on his jeans, and helped it out to Taemin, “just… Lets not do this again, deal?”
The changeling nodded, taking the offered hand and shaking firmly, ignoring the tingle he felt, the sudden ablation to the loneliness of no longer sharing his thoughts and smiled, “deal”
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Final Word Count: 23,000
X
Jonghyun sat dejectedly on the steps of the public library, kicking his feet at the wet concrete as he waited for Taemin. He was tired and he wanted a drink, but they’d been up all night trying to figure out what “pure Love” meant. According to Taemin, the rose moon was just some poetic garbage for the full moon of June, which was at its fullest tonight, apparently, and if they didn’t figure out what it meant before midnight, they were stuck for a year. The singer looked up and over his shoulder when he heard footsteps, seeing a stormy looking Taemin coming down the stairs at him. The red-head looked more like a predator than anything, right now, and Jjong had to resist the urge to flee like a bunny in terror as the dancer sat down hard next to him.
“Got fucking nothing,” Taemin snarled at the sky as he leaned back on his elbows. “Every single hidden scripture, poem, fae language piece of crap in that library and nothing says anything about what the fuck ‘Pure Love’ is.” He grunted angrily and Jjong just sat next to him, curled tightly to himself, hands stuffed into his pockets as he moved his thighs back and forth, thinking. The Disney bullshit had led them to the Grimm Brothers, but even in their original, Germanic texts it had been true love and very much not Pure. They’d tried other old stories, tracing them back to places Taemin said had gates to Avalon, which Jjong was slowly beginning to believe was less of a really bad trip, and a whole lot more fucking real. They’d ruled out kissing under the moonlight, since they both accepted the fact that neither was in love with the other. “This is bullshit,” the changeling groaned. “We seriously need to figure this out. I’m probably going to die if I have to be in your head for another concert. You’re cranked up to eleven when you sing and I can’t take that kind of energy.”
“Sorry,” the blond muttered, dejectedly, licking his lips. It wasn’t like he purposely got revved up during concerts; it was just exhilarating being on stage like that. The singer was shivering, his body’s effort to keep him awake as the last bit of caffeine he’d had had ran out of his system screaming, apparently, since it never felt like it worked in the first place. He chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the people around them, like he’d been waiting for some kind of epiphany that would simultaneously explain their problem and teleport him back to his bed to sleep. After everything that’d happened, it seemed more than likely that it could happen that way. He felt like he was back in school again, after weeks of lessons, the teacher finally passes out the end-of-chapter test and its nothing like the practice questions. Jjong doubted that shouting about how he didn’t learn this shit would help, since it didn’t really ever help.
And then suddenly he got it. Springing to his feet, he grabbed Taemin’s elbow and dragged him back towards the library. “How old are you, Jesus Christ?” he muttered, as he muscled past people. “Looking for answers in textbooks, no one does that shit anymore.” Taemin was ominously silent, the calm before the storm, since Jjong could feel just how happy he wasn’t about being dragged like a child, as they reached the computer room and the singer stole the first free console. “Seriously, I should have thought of this sooner,” he groaned and shook the mouse on the computer around trying to get it to wake up. “If you want answers, you use Google.”
Taemin just blinked at him, his stormy anger turning into confusion as he watched the blond type away in the search bar. “I was born in 1850,” he blurted out, as he watched Jonghyun’s long, delicate looking fingers fumble on the keys. The singer glanced up at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape. “I’m serious,” the red-head defended, playing with some of his loose hair subconsciously. “I was a performer at the theater and I was taken by the fae, and I didn’t have enough strength or power to fight my way out until about two years ago. I didn’t have the internet when I was growing up, so I use books.”
“Oh,” Jonghyun muttered stupidly, turning back to the computer. “That’s rough, buddy,” he really didn’t know what to say, but the pleasant laugh that followed his remark lessened the atmosphere greatly, and he focused back on the internet search he was conducting. Lots of song lyrics, unfortunately. Jonghyun shook his head at that. Love songs were nice and all, but anything that had the words ‘pure love’ strung together like that was guaranteed pure sap. He continued on, looking for the reliable sites, like Yahoo Answers, or Wiki sites. “Ah, here we go!” he said, getting Taemin’s attention. “What does pure love mean? Lots of religious bullshittery. Oh, huzzah,” he deadpanned, his ‘too long, don’t read’ kicking in as he scrolled up and down past the answer, hoping that maybe something would catch his eye and make it make sense. Nothing did, so he backed out and clicked on another link.
Clearly the person who typed up the response to this didn’t understand the question, or adhere to standard, writing conventions, since their answer was not only hard to read, it down right didn’t make any sense. Rolling his eyes, Jjong scrolled down to the related questions sections, praying for something, anything, that would help because he was fucking tired and he just wanted this to be over. One of the answers clicked, for some reason. Like it just made sense, the type of thing that, when you see it or hear it, or fucking smell it, it was just perfect. “Oh my god, I’ve got it!” he hissed, highlighting the words for Taemin to see as he leaned close.
“Pure love is when you love someone no matter what they did,” the dancer read off, raising his eyebrow at the singer, and then looking back at the screen. “How are you so sure this is it?” he asked, then pointed to another one. “How do we know it’s not this one, ‘To die for your fellow man’ ?”
“Because,” Jonghyun hissed, closing out of the window and standing up. “Why would love have anything to do with death? Let’s go, I want a nap.” He said, tugging on Taemin’s arm, trying to get the changeling to move, but the red-head pulled his arm out of the singer’s grasp and scowled at the computer, before marching out on his own.
“You’re not napping,” the dancer said, as they walked to the car. “Just because we’ve figured out what it means doesn’t mean we know how to get it.”
Jonghyun groaned, slamming the passenger side door after he slid into his re-claimed mustang. Taemin still had his keys, and nuzzled into the soft leather seats. “It’s Jinki,” he muttered sleepily, the slight comfort already calling him to slumber. “Well, for me it is, anyway. No matter what I did, he’s always been there for me. I just have to go and talk to him. He’s stubborn when he’s heartbroken, and he has the self-esteem of a rock. I just need to…beg him to help, and then hope he listens, since he’s stubborn…I said that twice, didn’t I? I’m sleepy Taemin. Let’s go home,” he groaned, blinking puppy dog eyes at the red-head, the bags under them accented by the smudged make up and the dancer gave in, growling lightly as he drove them back to Jjong’s apartment.
He tucked the singer into bed and sat down in his kitchen, body still riding the high from last night, his legs jumping all over the place as he fought to just sit still. Hell, he was probably why Jjong was so tired, since he normally fed off of a crowd and now it was just one person. He looked over at the restless singer, his face pale in the sun that flooded through his inadequate windows, and chewed on his lip. He’d gotten worse as the night went on. Was it possible for Taemin to still be draining him? The red-head ran a hand through his hair and tugged lightly. There were reasons why human fae bonds were forbidden, he remembered, but since they so rarely happened, the actual reasons escaped him. He walked over and pushed some of the blonde’s hair out of his face, humming softly. Sure, another flood of energy like the concert would possibly cause Taemin to combust into pure energy, but as he studied the sleeping man, he became more convinced he was still syphoning his energies; Jjong might not make it another week, never mind another concert.
Growling he stalked around the room angrily. He didn’t know anything about positive energies. What was he supposed to do? Call an expert, He realized, like a light flipped on in his brain, and he turned to the sleeping boy. “Sorry Jjong,” he muttered, as he stripped the sleeping boy, who was really out of it, and flung the shades wide, trying not to get distracted by the warm glow the sun gave to the singer’s skin, as he opened the window. “Kim Kibum,” he whispered into the wind, “I give you permission.”
The wind that rushed by his nose smelled faintly of sex and petrichor, as the kitsune swept into the room, materializing next to Jonghyun in a swirl of dust. He ran his perfectly cared-for nails down Jonghyun’s muscular chest, purring in the back of his throat. Taemin snarled at him, using some of the power he’d collected to call a clap of thunder so loud it rattled the windows. Key jumped up, looking over at Taemin like he just noticed him, eyes wide and white-rimmed.
“Jesus Christ,” he yelped, jumping off the bed as soon as he saw the red-head. He put the still sleeping Jonghyun, who had just decided to roll over and give the fox a perfect view of his ass, between them, stuttering and stumbling over his apology as he tried to keep his eyes on Taemin, and not the naked treat before him. “Fuck, fuck, sorry, okay! Don’t just invite me in like that! What the fuck did you think I was going to do, huh?” Taemin scoffed and tossed a sheet over the sleeping human, grabbing the other fae by the ear and dragging him into the kitchen. “Okay, seriously, just because I used to be your herald doesn’t mean you can treat me like this! I have rights, damn it!”
The red-head turned on him the moment they were clear of the room Jjong was in. “Put your glamour on if he wakes up, I don’t want to have to explain you,” he snapped, and cowed, Key complied, turning into a pretty, black-haired boy, his sensuously-angled eyes betraying his foxy nature. “Listen, I have a problem, and you’re the only person I can trust.” The dancer confessed, looking down to play with his hands. Asking for help was never his strong suit, but the pissy look dropped off the other’s face so he took that as a good sign, and rushed into his question. “I fed off of Jjong’s rush from his performance last night. I didn’t mean to, but I needed to know the songs, I didn’t think it would be dangerous, but it nearly knocked me out when I came down, and he’s been dead on his feet for hours. Granted, we’ve been up all night, but I’ve seen him pull all-night drinking binges and he still looks better than he does now.” He rambled nervously, shooting a worried look into the other room. “Am I killing him?” he questioned, his voice small and lost as he stared hopefully at the fox.
Key clicked his tongue and reached over the squeeze Taemin’s hand. “You’re a lord, remember? You have to eat a lot,” he said carefully, a little alarmed when the dancer didn’t snap at him for the touch. “I’m not an energy reader, Tae, but I know that anger and ecstasy are both passion related. Pure joy is harder to come by, since it’s known to prolong humans lives.” He hummed, rubbing his hands over the red-head’s arms. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s possible that you are. I mean, so far from Avalon, yet you’re affecting the weather? You’re wired like a speed freak.” He looked over at the sleeping boy in the other room. “You’re killing your battery, though.”
Taemin sighed, prepared for that revelation. If Jjong was fae, he could have easily transferred the energy back to him, but as it were, it would be like trying to move water through a boulder. Instead, he grabbed Key’s hand and looked his old herald and only friend straight in the eye. “I fought the King and left Avalon, leaving you and my house behind. Are we still friends, Kibum?” he asked, trembling lightly. He would be doomed if this didn’t work. Doomed, and Jonghyun would be dead.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” the raven-haired boy asked, raising a perfectly sculptured eyebrow, but his eyes were kind, understanding, and almost motherly, for all that Taemin was truly centuries older than him.
“Then, I…we need your help,” Taemin implored, looking back once more at Jonghyun. “Tonight, at midnight, outside Avalon. Will you be there?”
“I wouldn’t miss it, my Lord.”
XI
Taemin agreed to wait outside when Jonghyun went to talk to Jinki. The singer was slightly unsettled by how kind and helpful the red-head was being, though he neglected to mention why he was naked when he woke up. He was still tired after his nap, and he hated when that happened, what the hell point was his nap, huh? Shrugging, he paced outside the strip joint’s door, trying to ignore Taemin’s pointed shooing motions. They had three hours until midnight, and Taemin was hurtling towards their deadline with some kind of new ferocity that he hadn’t had earlier in the day. He just kept saying that Jjong wouldn’t understand, and skirting the question, so the singer gave up.
With a huge sigh, He pushed the door open and went inside. It was still dark and almost overtly trashy. The sleazy music still thrummed through the crappy base that probably blew out years ago, but that the owner was too cheap to fix. Jinki was at the bar, looking worn down and generally worse for wear, a pretty, blond boy talking softly to the honey-colored head that hung low as he washed the polished wood. He approached slowly, flinching slightly at the scathing look the boy gave him. The singer half expected him to hiss and spit like the cat he was acting like. The stripper’s cut off murmuring caught Jinki’s attention, and he looked up, his eyes betraying the pure happiness the older man felt as he laid eyes on Jonghyun for the first time in weeks. They narrowed as he took in the blonde’s haggard look, and while Jinki looked like he’d had it rough, Jjong knew he looked like a walking train wreck.
“It’s okay, Ren,” Jinki said gently, smiling fatherly at the smaller boy, who nodded, and with one last, dark look at Jonghyun, literally pranced off into the back of the club, while Jinki turned back to Jjong. “You look terrible,” he muttered, moving around the bar to hug the singer tightly. “Like you haven’t slept in years. Are you eating? On anything? Do you need help? Is Juliette dead? Did you kill him? I think I know a good place for his body, not that I’ve imagined hiding a body, but you know, you can’t be too prepared.” He coughed, blushing slightly at the ramble, cupping the shorter boy’s face and kissing his forehead. “I was so worried.” His voice was thick with his emotions, and his hands trembled, so Jjong just hugged him. The older boy didn’t like people seeing him lose control of his emotions like this. Out bursts of joy were okay, but tears? Jinki couldn’t handle that, so the singer just held him until he stopped shaking.
“I’m okay, Hyung,” Jonghyun said, as they pulled apart, and he tried to remember the rambled questions. “I never was on anything, I do need help, no he’s not dead, he needs your help, too,” He rushed out, but Jinki pulled away from him as if Jjong burned, and turned away, back behind the bar. Jonghyun groaned and moved closer, leaning onto the bar to try and meet the older man’s eyes. “You need to listen, Hyung. Please. It’s complicated and I don’t have time to make you understand. I know I’ve been weird lately, I know it’s upsetting you, and I’m sorry. But Juliette’s as much a victim as I am and we both need your help.”
Jinki clutched his wash rag tight, his shoulders tense and his back towards the singer. “He’s bad for you, Jjong,” he hissed, pulling at one of the stay threads. “You look like death, you disappeared for three goddamn weeks without a word, and now you need me to help him? How strong do you think I am?” There was a tremble in his voice, pleading. Jinki would do anything for Jonghyun, felt responsible for him, and Jjong looked up to the older man like a brother. He hated that he couldn’t tell him what was happening, but how do you rationally sit someone down and tell them that you accidently bound yourself to some sort of fairytale creature, and it hurts if you’re too far apart, that you really were only gone a couple of hours when you travelled to a different dimension. Jinki was a pretty accepting guy, but Jonghyun was having a hard time believing all of this bullshit and he was living it.
“You just have to trust me,” he begged, reaching to grab the brunet’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “We’re friends right, Hyung? Family?” he asked, trying to see the bartender’s face, but he kept it hidden behind his hair, looking away from the singer. The blond sighed, pulling away from him, “Listen, I need you, please. Can you just…meet us where I called you to pick us up? It’s important, okay?” When Jinki didn’t show any signs of responding, the singer sighed again, rubbing his arms self-consciously as he turned and left the bar, casting one last hopeful look over his shoulder, locking eyes with Jinki, who had looked up. “Please,” he mouthed, and ducked out the door.
Taemin was there in an instant, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him to the car. Jjong almost couldn’t feel it over the ache in his chest. He’d been so sure that Jinki would have been his normal, cheerful self, ready to do anything. It hurt, worse that it hurt to be away from Taemin, and he curled up into a ball in the passenger seat as they drove out to the field. “I thought he would come,” he muttered, trembling and trying not to cry.
“He still might,” Taemin said light-heartedly, though Jjong could feel the fear through the bond, as he navigated the roads, reaching over to squeeze the singer’s hand lightly. “If you’re right about him, and he loves you, he’ll be there.”
“But what if I pushed him too far this time?” Jjong whispered into the silence of the car, as the city gave way to the forest.
“If pure love is really love despite all difficulties, you can never push that person too far, right?” Taemin asked, chancing a glance at him, as he looked for the right patch of dirt to pull off into. “You said it yourself, that was the definition, and it fit Jinki to a T.” He sighed, finally finding the spot and parking, turning the car off. “Believe in your friend, okay Jjong? He’s still got two hours before it’s…too late.” He looked down at the late part, swallowing hard.
The singer hummed and leaned his head back against the headrest. “This isn’t how I’d pictured things, you know,” he muttered tiredly, sighing heavily as he rolled his head over to look at Taemin. “Back in the alley. Sex, I had hoped for, I mean, you’re hot, who wouldn’t want to fuck you, but this whole, magical mystery mess? Never saw it coming.” He groaned and reached a hand up to rub his neck. “I feel like a totally different person from back then.” He smiled lightly at the red-head, “I guess, I should say thanks?”
Taemin blushed and stared hard at the steering wheel. “It’s my fault,” he said, shrugging self-consciously. “If I had been, you know, human, this never would have happened. And you…you changed me too, okay Jjong?” he laughed a little and opened the car door, sliding out. “Just when I thought I was getting too old for new tricks, too.” The singer chuckled and moved too, getting out and shutting the door, walking towards the forest, but stopping before entering it. Taemin knew he was scared, afraid of Avalon and its crazy king. “I won’t let him get you, you know,” he found himself saying, grabbing the blonde’s hand and guiding him gently away from the woods. “Minho. He may be king, but he’s never stepped foot outside Avalon. I’m stronger out here,” he assured, smiling.
About an hour before midnight, the whitest dove Jonghyun had ever seen appeared, landing on Taemin’s shoulder, who inclined his head like he was listening to the bird. Jjong had lied down in the sweet grass, tired and bored, just wanting it all to be over. He wondered if he should have expected it when the dove turned into a woman, but he still jumped. She was a short woman, white feathers braided into her blonde hair, skittish looking, too. Soon after she turned human, the girl from the bar showed, up, Amber. This time, she looked like she was trying to pull off a Joan of Arc costume, half armored with a sword in hand.
“Is that necessary?” he asked hesitantly, gesturing to the outfit. The raven-haired girl glared at him, tossing a disgruntled look at Taemin before turned back to him, sneering a little.
“We’ll find out, wont we?” she asked condescendingly, which took Jjong aback a little, and he looked down at his feet, playing with the hem of his shirt.
“Oh, give the human a break, Amber,” a new voice said, as warm arms wrapped around the singer’s middle. “It’s not like he knew who he was getting in bed with…quite literally, too.” There was a giggle, as perfectly manicured nails scratched at the blonde’s stomach over his shirt, and Jjong, having gone completely still, looked at Taemin pleadingly. There was only so much of this bullshit he could take before he cracked, and he was rapidly approaching that edge. A growl from Taemin made the new stranger back off with an audible pout, moving to stand next to the red-head, who glared at him. The pretty male, who’s black hair was accented with strands of kaleidoscope colors, didn’t have the decency to look shameful. He just wiggled his fingers at Jjong. “Hello, Lucifer~ I’m a huge fan!”
“Thanks?” the human muttered, feeling more objectified than usual as his ‘fan’ raked his fox-like eyes down his form hungrily. He looked back at the dove and cleared his throat. “S-so, what exactly are we supposed to do?” he asked, and his question seemed to startle her.
“Oh, dear!” She muttered, looking at him with a kind smile as she pressed a hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, I was caught up, um…I don’t know, exactly,” she giggled and tilted her head, “but, if you could stand in front of me, and Lord Taemin could stand behind me? That would be useful.” Her bright demeanor didn’t fit the dark one of the girl next to her, but Jjong found himself liking her the most.
As they got into position, Key leaned closer to Taemin, eyes guarded as he kept them on the singer. “Isn’t he missing someone?” the fox asked.
“His friend is hesitant to come because he doesn’t like me,” the dancer explained, sighing. “Maybe I should have talked to him? Told him that Jjong would die if he didn’t show up?”
Key shook his head as he stepped back, clasping the red-head on the shoulder encouragingly. “You did the right thing, Lord. He has to be here out of love, right? Guilting him into coming isn’t love.” He looked up at the moon, almost directly above them. “He has time, yet. Not all hope is lost.” He lowered his voice again, shooting a look at Luna and Amber before leaning in. “Should the worst happen you could always take him into Avalon. You’d no longer drain from him, and after a while he’d become a changeling, and your bond would no longer threaten to overtake him.”
“Never,” Taemin hissed, glaring at Key. “I know your intentions, and noble as they are, I cannot, will not, do that to someone.” The fox held his hands up in defeat, and Taemin felt a little bad. The herald had only been trying to help. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I’m tense, right now.”
“Think nothing of it,” the fox said with a sly grin, waving off the apology like he wasn’t blushing with the honor. Suddenly his head cocked to the side, and he turned towards the road, leaning closer to it as he listened. “Someone comes,” he muttered, looking back at Taemin for direction. The stronger changeling shrugged and looked over at Jonghyun, who sat dejectedly on the ground directly opposite Luna, fiddling with his jacket and sighing. He couldn’t hear the sound of the approaching motor, but Taemin wished he could, to give some sort of hope to the singer, but again, he was glad he couldn’t hear it just now, in case it wasn’t Jinki. Taemin didn’t think he had the heart to watch him be crushed again.
The sound got louder, everyone could hear it, and as Jonghyun looked up, he’d been fighting the urge to do so, to hope, Jinki’s car sped down the road, screeching to a stop only a few feet after the singer’s car. He pulled over and got out, hesitantly, eyeing the other four nervously as he skirted around them, rushing to Jjong’s side, who had stood up the moment the bartender had gotten out.
“You’re here,” he whispered, nervously as he bit his lip and looked over at Taemin, who looked like a mountain or stress had been taken off of his shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d come. You were so…” he shrugged and rubbed the back of his head, looking down at his shoes.
The bartender forced a laugh, shrugging good naturedly even as he kept an eye on the strangers his friend had been standing with. “When don’t I get your skinny ass out of trouble, huh? Admit it, Luci, you’re nothing without me.” He meant it as a jab, but his voice trembled at the end, going up a little like an unasked question, and the blond nodded, smiling at him.
“Just…stop calling me Luci already, Jesus.”
“If you girls are done,” Amber interrupted, drawing a circle in the ground with her sword, the grass parting and dying with its touch. “Step up to the circle and listen,” she instructed, stepping back as Luna moved ahead, tossing something that looked like gold into the air while the four boys stood on the line. The glitter swirled on the wind, flying higher and higher, until it covered the moon, or seemed too. Suddenly they were bathed in a rosy hue, as if the glitter had really covered the moon, turning it red. Jinki gasped next to Jjong, and moved to step back. Only the singer’s death grip on his hand kept him still, as Luna began to chant something in a language neither of them could understand. The blond prodded his bond with Taemin, who understood it, yet he was decisively shut out, with a wave of anger, as from across the circle the red-head glared at him.
“Pure love’s presence,” the dove said, turning to point at Key and Jinki, “under the rose moon waits, pure bloods to take, for the bond to break.” Before anyone could react, Amber struck, her sword sliding neatly into Jinki’s chest, pulling it out to cast the blood across the circle, and quick as a snake, repeated the process with Key. Their blood mixed on Luna’s white dress, a striking contrast. She spoke again, but Jonghyun had stopped listening the moment the armored woman’s sword pierced Jinki, as he clutched at his friend, who’s eyes where wide and shimmering, as his body trembled and rocked, and the breath hissed out of him, followed by a small whine, the slice in his chest sluggishly starting to bleed, and then he collapsed. The singer fell with him, pressing his hand over the wound as he shot a desperate look at Taemin, who has just finished laying Key onto the ground, but he didn’t look alarmed at all.
“T-taemin,” the blond whimpered, voice trembling as the other man looked up at him, the panic in his voice, over the bond, finally connecting. “Taemin, what? J-Jinki’s bleeding,” he said dumbly, looking down at the older man, who was panting harshly, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat.
“It’s okay, Jjong,” the dancer said quietly, standing up. Behind him, the snarky boy rolled over, like he hadn’t just been stabbed, as if he was just sleeping. Between them Luna was still chanting, and a cup had appeared out of nowhere. She gathered some of the blood off of Amber’s sword and sprinkled something into it, before bowing to Taemin and offering him the chalice. He looked at it hesitantly, before shifting his eyes to look at Jjong as he took the cup and drank from it.
The singer cried out, as it felt like he’d been struck by lightning, his grip tightened on Jinki as he bent over him, trembling in pain. A cool hand rested on the back of his neck. “Stand up,” the pretty female voice cooed, trying to lure him away. He didn’t want to, it hurt, Jinki was hurt. What the fuck was going on. No one was supposed to die, it wasn’t supposed to hurt. He whined in the back of his throat, shivering violently.
“Kim Jonghyun,” an authoritative voice echoed in his head, “Stand up now.” And he didn’t know why he did, but he pulled away from Jinki, blinking back tears as he looked down at Luna. She was smiling kindly at him, understandingly. And he hesitantly took the cup with his bloodstained hands, lifting it to his lips and draining the sweet liquid. As suddenly as the pain started it stopped, a sudden feeling of loneliness taking over as he dropped the chalice. He didn’t dwell on it much as he fell back to his knees, apologizing porously to Jinki, trying to put pressure back on the wound in his chest, only to find it wasn’t there, that the older boy hadn’t passed out from blood loss, but was simply sleeping. He gasped and looked up at Taemin, who’d walked around the circle to help him back onto his feet.
“Amber is a part of the Winder Court,” the dancer explained, wiping the tears from the singer’s face. “It’s against the laws for her to kill while she’s the tribute, or um, on lone I guess, so her sword heals all those she cuts.” He chuckled at the growl the woman let out, dropping his hands from Jonghyun’s face. “Needless to say, she doesn’t like it much.”
“Oh,” The blond said stupidly, licking his lips and looking down at his hands, “So… it’s done then? We’re…free, as it were?”
“It appears so” Taemin nodded, reluctantly pulling away from the muscular man and looking around. Key and Jinki were still sleeping, but Luna and Amber were making their exit. He shrugged and rubbed his arm, turning back to Jjong with a sheepish smile. “I’m, um…still out of a job, though, and an apartment. Do you…do you know of anywhere I can stay?”
Jonghyun laughed softly, rubbing at his watery eyes, he kept his hand on Jinki, just in case he was dreaming the mans return to health, needing to feel the warmth of life under his skin. “Yeah…yeah I think I might.” He wiped his hand on his jeans, and helped it out to Taemin, “just… Lets not do this again, deal?”
The changeling nodded, taking the offered hand and shaking firmly, ignoring the tingle he felt, the sudden ablation to the loneliness of no longer sharing his thoughts and smiled, “deal”