(no subject)
new : fanfic : superjunior
rating : G
focus : eeteuk (donghae)
AU. supernatural genre. an interlude - 577 words. follows swallow.
nightshade
The boy on your couch is unconscious, pitifully weakened, and painfully young, with tousled hair the approximate color of dust and stark white bandages wreathing his neck and chest, his arms, even his hands. The gauze doesn't hide the livid red gash on his cheek, or the tiny black sutures holding the wound together. You don't know what this boy and his sterile, metallic-medicinal scent is doing in your home, but you'd prefer he not be.
You take a step forward, and then Rella is there, smiling with all of his teeth and playing with a brassy curl as he lounges in the far doorway. "Jongoonie left a little mess. You should train your pups better."
Jongoon. You'll kill him, whatever sort of amateur foul-up he's dropped in your lap. "Why did you bring him here?"
"Oh, you know..." He saunters closer, sliding long fingers into the boy's hair and giving it a playful ruffle--a small groan escapes the captive on the couch at the motion, and Rella leans over him, lips curling. "It's been awhile since you've had a little one to fuss over, hasn't it?" You snarl at him, quietly, and his smirk sharpens. "Of course, I could deal with it, but I don't think he's... sturdy enough to be any fun at all, what a waste..."
Two more paces bring you to the side of the couch and you aim an absent swat at Rella, but he melts away, just out of reach, and laughs at you silently. The boy's pallor is more apparent up close--his eyes are wideset, and it lends him a childish air of guilelessness--and when you rest a hand on his forehead, grudgingly, his skin is clammy and cool to the touch. "How long has it been...?"
Rella touches a lacquered nail to pursed lips in thought; licks his fingertip. "Perhaps three, four days."
From the looks of the boy, you don't think he'll last out the week--the infection is swift and fierce, in its best form, but a slow decline like this is deadly. Jongoon knows better than to be so sloppy. "What happened?" You thumb his eyelid back, inspect a trembling, unaware pupil, and release him with a tiny snort.
"Territorial impulses, I'd say," Rella purrs, sounding far too amused.
Your first estimate wouldn't have placed him out of high school, but then Jongoon always did have a predilection for the young ones. It's a shame, you think, that a virtual child should be snuffed out so pointlessly, and perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have someone about, again. Kangin pops in and out as the whim strikes him, but that isn't quite the same....
Sidling closer to your side, Rella snakes an arm around your waist, his nails light pin-pricks along your ribcage.. "His name is Donghae," he murmurs in your ear, just before his teeth nip at a dangling piercing.
You shake him off with a distracted wave; it may be too late to boost the virus enough that it can take firm hold, and he may be too weak to withstand the fever if it does, but you have little patience for Rella's games. "Let yourself out," you say, but he has already flitted away, as swift as a shadow.
Scooping Donghae's limp form into your arms, you whisper nothings in response to his low, pained whimpers, and carry him up the stairs a step at a time.
rating : G
focus : eeteuk (donghae)
AU. supernatural genre. an interlude - 577 words. follows swallow.
nightshade
The boy on your couch is unconscious, pitifully weakened, and painfully young, with tousled hair the approximate color of dust and stark white bandages wreathing his neck and chest, his arms, even his hands. The gauze doesn't hide the livid red gash on his cheek, or the tiny black sutures holding the wound together. You don't know what this boy and his sterile, metallic-medicinal scent is doing in your home, but you'd prefer he not be.
You take a step forward, and then Rella is there, smiling with all of his teeth and playing with a brassy curl as he lounges in the far doorway. "Jongoonie left a little mess. You should train your pups better."
Jongoon. You'll kill him, whatever sort of amateur foul-up he's dropped in your lap. "Why did you bring him here?"
"Oh, you know..." He saunters closer, sliding long fingers into the boy's hair and giving it a playful ruffle--a small groan escapes the captive on the couch at the motion, and Rella leans over him, lips curling. "It's been awhile since you've had a little one to fuss over, hasn't it?" You snarl at him, quietly, and his smirk sharpens. "Of course, I could deal with it, but I don't think he's... sturdy enough to be any fun at all, what a waste..."
Two more paces bring you to the side of the couch and you aim an absent swat at Rella, but he melts away, just out of reach, and laughs at you silently. The boy's pallor is more apparent up close--his eyes are wideset, and it lends him a childish air of guilelessness--and when you rest a hand on his forehead, grudgingly, his skin is clammy and cool to the touch. "How long has it been...?"
Rella touches a lacquered nail to pursed lips in thought; licks his fingertip. "Perhaps three, four days."
From the looks of the boy, you don't think he'll last out the week--the infection is swift and fierce, in its best form, but a slow decline like this is deadly. Jongoon knows better than to be so sloppy. "What happened?" You thumb his eyelid back, inspect a trembling, unaware pupil, and release him with a tiny snort.
"Territorial impulses, I'd say," Rella purrs, sounding far too amused.
Your first estimate wouldn't have placed him out of high school, but then Jongoon always did have a predilection for the young ones. It's a shame, you think, that a virtual child should be snuffed out so pointlessly, and perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing to have someone about, again. Kangin pops in and out as the whim strikes him, but that isn't quite the same....
Sidling closer to your side, Rella snakes an arm around your waist, his nails light pin-pricks along your ribcage.. "His name is Donghae," he murmurs in your ear, just before his teeth nip at a dangling piercing.
You shake him off with a distracted wave; it may be too late to boost the virus enough that it can take firm hold, and he may be too weak to withstand the fever if it does, but you have little patience for Rella's games. "Let yourself out," you say, but he has already flitted away, as swift as a shadow.
Scooping Donghae's limp form into your arms, you whisper nothings in response to his low, pained whimpers, and carry him up the stairs a step at a time.