when there's nothing left to burn
ugh the next time i decide i want to write some metaphorical bullshit, someone stop me.
those mutant delinquent au drabbles finally morphed into their own fic u__u also wow, it's been a year. *GOES BACK INTO HIBERNATION*
you have to set yourself on fire
The way Hakyeon smiles, all bared teeth and lips curled cruelly, sends shivers down Taekwoon’s spine. He’s known from the start that Hakyeon is dangerous, that he’s got a fury within him that he can’t hold down. Taekwoon likes to think he understands Hakyeon at some level, but he knows he could never tame him, could never make the leader of their little gang of pyromaniacal misfits a docile creature. (Hakyeon burns much too hot to be held down.)
But when Hakyeon smiles at him, when his eyes are bright and clear, and he kisses Taekwoon all tongue and no teeth, Taekwoon dreams about the impossible. He aches for the day when he can reach for Hakyeon and extinguish his sparks before they flare into the catastrophic demons Hakyeon tries so hard to lock away.
There’s something in Hakyeon that’s dark and terrifying, something that Taekwoon can’t quell with words or a touch to the small of his back. Hakyeon is the only one of them who doesn’t carry a lighter because he doesn’t need to. It’s not necessary when a snap of a finger or a clap of his hands can set cities aflame.
But when Hakyeon is okay, when he’s straddling Taekwoon’s lap with his hands in Taekwoon’s hair, his lips swollen and red, and his gasps are quiet and pleading, Taekwoon reaches for him. He holds Hakyeon by his hips and pulls him close, whispering promises he hopes to keep.
Taekwoon has his own problems; he’s got a quick temper and a quicker fist, but he thinks, maybe, if he could just save Hakyeon, there might be redemption for himself.
#
He wakes up to Hakyeon tucked against him, snoring softly. his back shields Hakyeon from the summer night breeze, and he closes his eyes again once he sees that it’s not yet 5am. For a while he just dozes, vaguely aware of the gentle rise and fall of Hakyeon’s chest and the summer air whispering across his spine.
It's hot, he thinks sleepily, instinctively pulling Hakyeon closer, a small, sweat-slicked ball of barely controlled fire and terribly restrained rage.
“Hakyeon,” he murmurs. “Hakyeon-ah.”
Hakyeon doesn’t respond. He sleeps on, and the air around them continues to radiate with heat.
Taekwoon presses a kiss to the curve of his shoulder, tries to take some of the heat away, tries to take it into his own skin. It’s dizzying and torturous, and the very marrow of his bones burn as they do, as they always do when he does this, when he tries to dampen the pain that Hakyeon carries within himself every day.
There’s only so much he can take, and he relents with a gasp, feeling as though his blood just might boil.
#
Hakyeon sleeps and sleeps. He doesn’t move until long after everyone else starts to go about their day. Taekwoon stays in bed for as long as he can and returns with a cup of freshly brewed coffee when he thinks Hakyeon is awake.
He sits at the edge of the bed, mug in one hand, stroking Hakyeon’s hair softly while the other stares out the window towards the early afternoon sun.
The liquid is cool by the time Hakyeon manages to sit up. “Does it hurt?” Taekwoon asks, passing him the cup.
“When I fell from heaven?” Hakyeon returns hoarsely, the mischievous smile not quite managing to reach his eyes. “I'm fine,” he adds when Taekwoon doesn’t respond. “Really.”
Taekwoon nods. “Tomorrow’s monday,” he says.
“Yes,” says Hakyeon, expectant.
“I'll be back as soon as I can.”
Hakyeon lips quirk, amused. “It’s not necessary,” he says. when Taekwoon tries to protest, he continues. “I need you to talk to someone.”
Taekwoon frowns. The last time Hakyeon had wanted to talk to someone, it hadn’t ended well. Taekwoon has the jagged scar on his left forearm to prove it.
As if he knows what Taekwoon is thinking (and maybe he does, Taekwoon wouldn’t put such omniscience past Hakyeon), he says, “It’s not retribution. more like an offer.”
Taekwoon sincerely doubts that any of Hakyeon’s requests could be anything short of collecting a debt, but he agrees anyway because even at his weakest, Taekwoon is still powerless to Hakyeon’s will. He can’t explain it, never could, not when neither Jaehwan nor Hongbin nor Sanghyuk share his sentiments.
“It’s because you’re in love with him,” Jaehwan once said. “Because you can’t bear the thought of disappointing him.”
“It’s because you trust him,” Hongbin offered. “And he trusts you.”
“It’s because you’re scared,” Sanghyuk countered pragmatically. “Isn’t that why any of us does everything he says?”
But now, when Hakyeon is setting aside his cup and pulling Taekwoon close, and Taekwoon can still taste the lingering hints of vanilla in his mouth, Taekwoon thinks it’s because he needs Hakyeon to need him. because if Hakyeon isn’t directing him to dirty his hands with filthy blood, he doesn’t know what other excuse he can use. If the red flashes in his vision aren’t Hakyeon’s flames pushing him forward, then he’d have to face his demons on his own.
“You’ll do it for me?” Hakyeon whispers against his ear, one hand on his thigh and the other on his cock.
“Yes,” Taekwoon hisses, pushing his hips forward, aching for more than just touch.
“Tell me,” Hakyeon coaxes, his hands hot and unforgiving. “Say you’ll do it.”
“I'll do it,” Taekwoon groans, cursing loudly when Hakyeon gives him an encouraging squeeze. “I'll do anything.”
Hakyeon kisses him hard, and Taekwoon surges forward, pinning him down, rolling their hips together until Hakyeon whines, needy and lustful. He sinks his teeth into Taekwoon’s shoulder when Taekwoon thrusts in, and his back arches beautifully when Taekwoon finds just the right angle.
“No one loves me like you,” Hakyeon gasps as his fingers send bright sparks across the sheets.
Taekwoon is dizzy from the heat, and Hakyeon is almost too hot to touch. Hakyeon draws him in, thighs tight across his hips, searing his skin.
He swears, from the pain or the pleasure, he can’t be sure. He is never sure, not when Hakyeon is crying out and clenching around him so, so tight.
When he collapses next to Hakyeon, vision hazy, muscles sore and aching, and skin red and shiny with fresh burns, he’s sure it must be love, a stupid, cowardly, destructive love because there is no other way he would ever let anyone hold him so close that he would have trouble finding himself.
Hakyeon reaches for him, calling quietly--shy, almost--for his “little lionheart,” and Taekwoon can’t turn to any other voice than his.
#
School is, for the most part, entirely uneventful. They’re in different years so Taekwoon doesn’t usually get to see any of the younger ones outside of their home. Today is no different. He goes through his classes for the sake of attendance and escapes to the roof when he thinks he can manage it. His ever-present lighter is the only company he keeps, its glossy finish dulled by constant fumbling.
A “no entrance” sign hangs on the door inside the stairwell, neglected and ignored by all. He leans against the railing, back to the skyline, playing with the thumbwheel of his zippo. time feels slower when he’s here, away from everything, from Hakyeon. There is no direction, just quiet, oppressive space. and he finds it unsettling.
He drifts, aimless, back towards his classroom. He stares at the clock throughout the lesson, watching each excruciating second tick by with such slow finality, Taekwoon almost expects the hands to stop.
He nearly jumps out of his seat at the sound of the bell, heart racing and cheeks flushed. He doesn’t bother listening to the assignments as he grabs his bag and hurtles off to the other side of the building, down two flights of stairs and stops dead in front of a classroom when he spies the face that Hakyeon had so adamantly wanted to see.
He’s across the room in three short strides. “You,” he almost snarls, glowering as he takes in the boy’s brightly colored hair to the blackened edges on the buttons of his shirt that bely the rudimentary control of his powers.
The boy stares at him, taken aback, but unafraid. Taekwoon purses his lips and swallows down his pride. There’s no challenge here, he’s sure. Whatever Hakyeon wants the kid, it isn’t something Taekwoon need to be too concerned with. So he levels his voice into something a little more neutral and extends a hand.
“Come with me.”
#
The first time Wonshik meets Hongbin, the boy is lying on his back, humming in acknowledgement whenever Hakyeon pauses expectantly. He's quite beautiful, his jaw sharp, lips curled up in amusement, eyes closed. His hair is swept back, away from his face, and he lounges there in the middle of the room with the lazy grace of someone who's used to being underestimated, who knows he's much more that just a pretty face. Wonshik wonders what kind of ferocity is lurking behind that smile.
There’s something dangerous about all of them. He knows this because there’s no other reason for them to stick together, no reason for Taekwoon to approach him at school, leaning invasively into his space with his head cocked to one side and a hand beckoning him to follow. There’s no reason for Taekwoon to lead him to a terribly furnished apartment with lighters scattered on the floors like lost coins. There’s no need for Hakyeon to grin at him, complexion pallid, but eyes devious when he says, “I’ve been watching you, Kim Wonshik. I want to see what you can do.”
#
“There are three things that need to present for a fire to start,” Hakyeon says pedantically. Taekwoon sits on the floor, passing a ball of fire between himself and Sanghyuk, letting the younger practice his manipulation. “First, heat.”
Hongbin glances up, and at Hakyeon’s nod, he smiles, beatific. The room is suddenly sweltering. Wonshik tugs uncomfortably at the sleeves of his uniform, his brow glistening with sweat. Hongbin grins.
“Second, an oxidizer.”
Jaehwan catches Taekwoon’s eye, and Taekwoon purses his lips. He lets the small ball of flames die out. Sanghyuk pouts.
“And fuel.”
Sanghyuk furrows his brow, concentrating on the area in front of Wonshik. The air shimmers with heat waves radiating from an invisible origin, and Wonshik takes a step back, cautious.
“More, Jaehwannie,” says Hakyeon.
Jaehwan blows Wonshik a kiss. The air sparks and ignites, forming a decently sized fireball waiting to be seized. Hakyeon steps forward, letting the flames twist and curl around him, intimate and familiar, protective. Slowly, the fire unfurls, seeping out towards the carpet but never quite touching the floor.
Taekwoon blinks and the room is cool again, with no evidence of a fire. Hakyeon snaps his fingers, and instantly, obediently, the enchanting glow of flames engulf them once more. With a free hand, he takes Wonshik by the wrist and passes him the flames. Wonshik stares as the tendrils rise and threaten to singe his eyebrows.
“Show me,” Hakyeon requests. “What are you capable of?”
Wonshik smiles tightly and releases a slow, calculated breath. He casts the flames downwards, weaving their way around Hakyeon’s feet and spiraling towards the small dinner table behind him. The flames circle along the wooden legs, almost teasing in the way they dance and leap. Suddenly, the fire grows, swallowing the table in its intensity. Something seems to collapse, and the fire is truly burning now, smoke quickly filling the air.
Taekwoon senses the imminent danger and reacts before he realizes it. He turns his focus to Hakyeon, to the air in front of him, manipulating it, draining the oxygen, forcing a barrier to shield their leader. Hakyeon’s eyes flicker towards him, and Taekwoon knows he’ll get it later, knows that Hakyeon will punish him for underestimating him. Taekwoon just shrugs, helpless.
Jaehwan is quick to smother the rest of the flames, as Hongbin pulls the remaining heat away. Sanghyuk gets up to check the damage, rapping the wood gently with his knuckles. He deems the remnants salvageable, if a little well done. Taekwoon does not join the others in their laughter.
Hakyeon throws an arm around Wonshik’s neck. “I knew it,” he practically purrs in appreciation. “You’re an Amplifier.”
Wonshik tests the word in his mouth and decides that he likes it. “Sounds special,” he comments.
“You need to practice control,” Hakyeon says, voice pitched low in warning. “Or else, the fire--it’ll eat you alive.”
Wonshik nods, sheepish. “Okay,” he acquiesces. “I will.”
#
“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon starts, but Hakyeon waves him off, climbing wearily under the sheets.
“I'm tired, Taekwoonie,” he mutters. “Just come to bed.”
Taekwoon hesitates. He wants to talk, wants to know why Hakyeon didn’t stop the fire himself, when he knew Wonshik couldn’t control it, when he knew the others might not have noticed the danger until it was too late.
“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon calls, turning over and gazing at Taekwoon imploringly.
Taekwoon sighs and pads over, careful not to disturb the cocoon Hakyeon has already enveloped himself in. Hakyeon burrows himself more comfortably against Taekwoon’s chest. “Don’t give up,” Taekwoon hears himself plead. “Not yet.”
“Don’t say stupid things,” Hakyeon chides. His eyes are warm when he smiles, and Taekwoon has to remind himself that this is Hakyeon, that deceit is not a foreign concept in this room. “Anyway,” he murmurs. “What do you think about Wonshik?”
“He’s powerful,” Taekwoon replies, because there’s no denying it. “But reckless.”
“And you’re not?” Hakyeon returns. “What would you have done if Hongbin hadn’t suppressed the heat of the fire for you? You would’ve killed yourself--and all of us--trying to take all the oxygen out of the room. Don’t overestimate yourself, Jung Taekwoon, and don’t ever underestimate me again.”
Taekwoon doesn’t reply right away. He lets the words sink in, lets the quiet fury soak into him. He realizes with a start that Hakyeon was never worried about himself, but of Taekwoon, of what would happen if Wonshik had decided, intentionally, to cause serious damage.
“I'm sorry,” he says, kissing the top of Hakyeon’s head. “I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Hakyeon repeats, an edge still present in his voice. “Don’t do stupid things, Taekwoon. I need you.”
It isn’t until later, when Hakyeon’s snores have become an almost hypnotic lullaby, that Taekwoon realizes that that was as close to a confession that Hakyeon could bear to give..
#
The first time Wonshik actually talks to Hongbin, Hongbin just smiles at him without saying a word. It's expectant and calculating, but Wonshik knows better. The kitchen is hot, and Wonshik knows he's not the one who turned on the stove. "Cute," he says, and Hongbin's grin widens. The dimples really are quite charming.
The heat dies down, and Wonshik lets out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "Wonshik, right?" he asks, and Wonshik nods. Hongbin smiles to himself, laughing softly. "That's a nice name," he says, mouth rounding around the syllables. "Kim Wonshik."
"Uh," says Wonshik intelligently, eyeing the way tip of Hongbin's tongue peeks out to lick his lips. (It's a very pretty mouth.) "Thanks."
Hongbin smiles again, appreciative, and he leans against the kitchen counter, waiting.
Wonshik swallows. “So, uh, you control heat--I mean, temperature?”
Hongbin’s smile becomes more of a smirk. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? Is it getting a little too warm for you?”
#
Hongbin, Wonshik comes to find, has a certain appreciation for things.
"I like negative space," Hongbin says calmly, tracing a trail along the trunk of a tree for the line of fire to follow. "I like the way things aren't."
Wonshik raises an eyebrow, and Hongbin lets his hand fall, ignoring the sparks that leap after him. "What about you?"
"Me?" questions Wonshik with a frown. "Never thought about it, really."
Hongbin quirks his lips, and Wonshik steps forward, picking up where the other left off. He traces searing, bold lines that scorch the bark, leaving the air thick with smoke. A cough behind him makes him stop, and he turns to find Hongbin hunched over, wheezing. "Sorry," he says with a choked laugh. "It's funny, isn't it? An asthmatic pyrokinetic."
He lets the flames burn themselves out and spends the rest of the afternoon running soothing hands down Hongbin's back and helping him count his breaths.
When they trudge back home, Hakyeon eyes him suspiciously. Hongbin’s breaths are still a little short, and Taekwoon silently retrieves his inhaler. “What happened,” Hakyeon asks, accusingly.
“It's nothing,” Hongbin says with a faint smile. “I got carried away.”
“Carried away,” echoes Hakyeon disbelievingly.
Hongbin smiles his sweet smile and lets Hakyeon press a hot hand to his cheek. “I'm fine,” he reassures him, and Hakyeon smoothes down his bangs for him.
Hakyeon lets them go, but not without grabbing Wonshik’s wrist and admonishing him to be careful.
That night, Wonshik stares up at the ceiling in the room he shares with Jaehwan and Hongbin. The skin on his arm burns, the boils in the shape of fingers having burst hours before.
#
“If you’re just going to dick around,” Hakyeon snaps. “You can leave.”
“Jesus,” says Wonshik, rubbing his wrists. “Lighten up. what are you so afraid of? I'm just feeling out my limits, testing boundaries, isn’t that what you’re all about?”
Hakyeon grits his teeth. None of this is going as he’d imagined. He had hoped Wonshik would be more like Sanghyuk--a little nervous, with a helping of that over-cautiousness; or even like Jaehwan, confident, but still skittish, unnerved by his own strength. Instead, Wonshik is brazen to the point of brash, and his over-inflated ego is in constant danger of bursting.
Hakyeon wants to break him, wants him to see just how deadly these wretched, cursed powers can be, but Wonshik isn’t easily intimidated, and before, Hakyeon had admired that about him, but now, Wonshik’s recklessness offends him more than anything.
“You’re completely uncontrolled,” Hakyeon scolds. “You don’t even know how you’re destroying yourself or how that affects everyone else around you.”
“If this is about Hongbin--”
“This is about you,” Hakyeon snarls, temper flaring, and Shit, he thinks for that split second as something inside of him breaks. He feels that all too familiar heaviness in his limbs, quickly followed by the rush of heat. A boiling hot anger courses through him, searing through his bloodstream like lightning, scorching him alive. The sparks are forming, crackling ominously as they dance across the surface of his skin, and his traitorous body wants him to direct all his energy outward, searching desperately for release.
Wonshik, sensing danger, steps back quickly, alarmed. “Look, Hakyeon, I wasn’t--”
“Get me Taekwoon,” Hakyeon rasps, shutting his eyes tight and relishing the burn, the numbing intensity of the pain, as it soaks through his bones, and he trembles in anticipation.
Wonshik doesn’t even manage two steps before Taekwoon is shoving him back, and several pairs of hands grab onto him, pulling him from the scene. He looks back to see Hakyeon clawing at Taekwoon, eyes feral, movements as frenzied as a captured animal, small bursts of fire escaping from his palm. Taekwoon wrestles him to the ground, and the entire time, Hakyeon is yelling, screaming, in agony or rage, Wonshik can’t tell. The words Hakyeon speaks are incomprehensible, alien, and he refuses to be held down.
Taekwoon is thrown off with a grunt, and Wonshik strains to go back to help. “He’s going to kill him!” Wonshik yells, but Jaehwan, with an uncharacteristic show of strength, yanks him back.
Wonshik’s sure if he could just get his lighter, anyone’s lighter, the five of them could take Hakyeon down, but then Taekwoon grabs Hakyeon by the neck and shoves him off, and his eyes flash a brilliant, inhuman gold, and Wonshik gasps as Hakyeon lets out an enraged screech, quickly followed by a pained moan. Taekwoon holds him down, a knee to his back and his hands pressed tight against Hakyeon’s neck, speaking loudly, firmly, in the same unintelligible language.
Wonshik looks away and runs in the direction he’s pulled.
#
“You should be careful,” says Jaehwan, without preamble, the morning after. Wonshik spoons another bite of cereal into his mouth. Jaehwan kicks him under the table. “I'm serious,” he says. “Don’t make Hakyeon angry.”
“I'm trying,” says Wonshik, frowning as he rubs his ankle.
“Try harder,” Jaehwan corrects. “Because the closer you get to Hongbin, the more likely you’ll set him off again.”
Wonshik stiffens. “I thought Taekwoon and Hakyeon--but Hongbin? are they--”
“No,” says Jaehwan automatically. “But that makes it worse, doesn’t it?”
Wonshik says nothing, doesn’t move until Jaehwan points out his spoon is melting.
“Anyway,” says Jaehwan. “It's Taekwoon you have to watch out for.”
“What do you mean?” Wonshik inquires, curious. for the most part, he doesn’t talk to Taekwoon. Taekwoon, to him, is like a free-spirited housecat. He comes and goes as he pleases; makes his presence known by flitting around in the periphery, but rarely does he ever make an appearance except, Wonshik’s noticed, for Hakyeon.
Jaehwan just smiles. “He’s very protective,” is all he says. of who, Wonshik never finds out.
#
“What does he mean by that?” Wonshik wonders aloud to Hongbin. “Does Taekwoon not like me?”
“I don’t think so,” Hongbin says mildly. He sucks on his straw thoughtfully, not bothering to mix his iced caramel macchiato. Wonshik eyes the level of the milk as it slowly descends. “If he didn’t like you, you would know.”
“That’s not actually comforting,” Wonshik admits. It occurs to him that, apart from the time Taekwoon had cornered him at school, he has never actually heard Taekwoon speak. “Is it because Hakyeon doesn’t like me?”
“You’re still breathing,” Sanghyuk notes. “So I think he likes you fine.”
“You’re a brat,” says Wonshik. “Why are you speaking so informally?”
Sanghyuk shrugs. “Does it matter?” he says, and Wonshik remembers the way Hakyeon fusses over him, how he refuses to let him leave the dinner table without a second helping of everything.
Wonshik shuts his mouth. “It doesn’t,” he grits out.
Sanghyuk, apparently satisfied, goes on. “Besides, the last time Taekwoon mentioned he didn’t like someone, the guy didn’t have a tongue left to complain with.”
Wonshik turns to Hongbin. Hongbin squints at his drink, deems it worthy of one more sip, and passes the remaining black liquid to Wonshik. “You can have that,” he says sweetly.
Wonshik frowns and drinks. The espresso is much more bitter than he expected, and he nearly gags. “What’s Taekwoon’s story anyway?” he coughs. “What’s with him and Hakyeon?”
“It's complicated,” says Sanghyuk.
“You should ask them yourself,” says Hongbin, smiling.
“Anyway,” Sanghyuk adds. “None of us really know. It's been Hakyeon and Taekwoon from the beginning.”
“I don’t get it,” says Wonshik.
Hongbin shrugs. “I was with them before Jaehwan and before Sanghyuk. But when Hakyeon approached me, Taekwoon was already there. They never said anything, and I never asked.”
“That’s...strange,” Wonshik tries.
“It's Hakyeon and Taekwoon,” says Hongbin with a lick of his lips that leaves Wonshik wondering just how sweet he must taste right now. “There’s nothing strange about it.”
#
On one of the rare occasions Hakyeon wakes up early to join them for breakfast, he’s uncharacteristically quiet, pushing his eggs onto Sanghyuk’s plate wordlessly as he sips slowly at a cup of orange juice.
“Hyung,” Hongbin starts gently. “Why don’t we go out later? It's been a while.”
Hakyeon blinks. “Oh,” he says. “That’s right, you just finished your exams.” He hesitates. “You guys go ahead.”
“Hyung?” Sanghyuk queries. “You’re coming, too, right?”
Hakyeon doesn’t answer, but he smiles and gives Sanghyuk’s cheek a light pat. “We’ll see,” he says, instead.
Taekwoon watches the entire exchange with a frown. He doesn’t expect the others to notice how Hakyeon’s breaths seem to be coming in short, shallow bursts, or how his complexion is paler than usual. He tries to think about what he should do, what Hakyeon would want him to do. He doesn’t know if he should lead Hakyeon back to the bedroom or herd everyone else out instead.
He tries to catch Hakyeon’s eye, but Hakyeon carefully, studiously avoids his gaze. Taekwoon glances at the rest of them. Only Jaehwan seems uneasy with Hakyeon’s reply, and he furrows his brow when he sees Taekwoon looking.
“Hakyeon probably has something planned with Taekwoon,” Jaehwan says, keeping his voice light and teasing. “Let’s get out of their way. Last one at the park buys lunch!”
The younger ones, spurred into action, practically throw themselves out the door. Jaehwan holds back for a moment. “Be careful?” he says to Taekwoon, unsure, cocking his head at Hakyeon’s slumped form.
Taekwoon allows him a slight smile. “Thank you,” he says, and Jaehwan nods in understanding.
Hakyeon does not look up when the door shuts. His eyes are closed, and the dark circles under them seem deeper set than ever.
“Does it hurt?” Taekwoon asks. He pulls his chair as close as he can and runs a hand along Hakyeon’s back in soothing strokes.
Hakyeon remains silent, but he nods, holding out a hand that Taekwoon takes immediately. Heat radiates off his skin in relentless waves. Taekwoon focuses his attention to connecting with Hakyeon, to let the heat slip from Hakyeon’s fingers into his, and Hakyeon, too tired to protest, lets him. He’s learned by now that as long as they take it slow, as long as Taekwoon doesn’t try to absorb all of Hakyeon’s energy at once, the pain is bearable.
Something in Taekwoon’s chest settles when Hakyeon gives a quiet sigh of relief, the color back in his cheeks. The fire in his veins no longer seems to burn as strongly, and the pain becomes a dull ache.
“Hakyeon-ah,” Taekwoon murmurs without letting go. “Don’t shut me out. Just let me help you.”
Hakyeon stares at him, his jaw set, but he doesn’t try to pull away. He just stares and stares until he finally looks away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “I don’t want you in pain because of me.”
“Yah,” Taekwoon says with a small smile. “It's a little late for that.”
Hakyeon’s lips turn up. He glances at Taekwoon, eyes trailing down to the scar on his bicep, to his waist and hips where he knows without looking that Taekwoon’s skin is perpetually red and tender to the touch.
“Wonshik is curious,” Hakyeon remarks, reaching up to press a hand to Taekwoon’s cheek. Taekwoon leans into his touch without reserve. “I think he wants to know if he’ll be like me. I think he’s scared.”
“What do you want to do?”
Hakyeon lets out a breath. ever since they met, they have searched for answers. By now, there’s not a church in Korea that Hakyeon and Taekwoon haven’t prayed in, nor a temple they haven’t lit incense for. “Damned by the priests and blessed by the monks,” Hakyeon murmurs. He lets Taekwoon pull him close, comforted by his steadfast loyalty.
“Some say we’re possessed,” Taekwoon says neutrally. “And some think we’re reincarnated gods.”
Hakyeon looks up at him with a small, thoughtful frown. “I am no god,” he says.
Taekwoon thinks about the things he’s done, the fights he’s gotten into, and the punches he’s never pulled. He doesn’t always use his powers for good, and he’s not sorry. He’s watched people die, heard them beg, and sometimes he feels guilt and sometimes he doesn’t.
But every time Hakyeon touches him, reassuringly warm if not always gentle, Taekwoon swears it feels a little like absolution.
#
“Kongie likes you, you know,” Hakyeon says to him nonchalantly one day when he accompanies his hyung to the corner store. It takes Wonshik a moment to figure out who Kongie is, but when he does, he stays quiet, unsure of what to say.
“I think you like him, too,” Hakyeon continues. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”
It's funny, Wonshik thinks with a suppressed shudder, how cold Hakyeon can be even though he burns so hot. “I'm not doing anything,” Wonshik says, as evenly as he can.
He takes a step back when Hakyeon turns to face him, and his wrists tingle. “You haven’t done anything yet,” Hakyeon corrects, looking amused.
“What does that even mean,” says Wonshik, bewildered. “If you’re going to set me on fire, just do it already.”
“Oh,” says Hakyeon contemplatively, turning back to the shelves. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” he pauses, half-bent towards a jar of peanut butter and squints up at Wonshik. “Why, should i?”
“No,” says Wonshik. “I like my skin the way it is, thanks.”
“Hm,” says Hakyeon, sounding bored. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”
His tone of voice suggests Wonshik do the exact opposite, and Wonshik doesn’t bother to argue.
“Can I ask you something?” Wonshik says, feeling bold. “What’s with you and Taekwoon? How did you find him? Or how did he find you?”
“We just found each other,” Hakyeon says. The words are kind, but final, and Wonshik, wisely, lets it go.
#
Hongbin leads him out into the cool city night when their room becomes too hot to sleep in. At first, Wonshik had thought Hakyeon had fallen ill, but Hongbin had just laughed and tugged him out onto the balcony where they easily leapt over the railings. It wasn’t until they’d rounded the corner back to the front of the building did Wonshik catch a glimpse of the bedroom Hakyeon and Taekwoon shared.
“Oh,” he says, startled, unable to stop himself from watching the way the heat waves roll off Hakyeon’s body with each thrust of Taekwoon’s hips.
“Intense, isn’t it?” Hongbin whispers, right by his ear. Wonshik swallows.
“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, tearing his eyes away from the scene, but the image (god, the image) of Hakyeon digging his fingers into Taekwoon’s back, legs wrapped around Taekwoon’s slim waist, is here to stay.
Hongbin laughs lowly, and Wonshik tries valiantly not to turn his face to capture those lips with his own. He succeeds for all of ten seconds before Hongbin nips at his ear impatiently.
“Are you going to kiss me or not,” says Hongbin, because there’s really no question. So Wonshik does.
#
This is how Wonshik comes to know Hongbin.
Hongbin kisses him as easily as he breathes. He kisses Wonshik’s lips and cheeks, whispers the dirtiest things with the sweetest smile, traces the scar on Wonshik’s wrist. “You love me,” he says reverently, eyes wide with a masked innocence.
“You scare me,” Wonshik never says. He presses his fingers into Hongbin’s neck to drag him close, smirks when Hongbin complains about the smokiness of his mouth. “I love no one like I love you,” he says because it's true.
As long as Hongbin is happy, Wonshik can deal with everything else as it comes. He knows this as surely as he knows that as long as Taekwoon is alive, Hakyeon could never let him go. He doesn’t hate the dependence as much as Hakyeon seems to, never tries to provoke Hongbin into a rage, never asks for the impossible. He doesn’t need the constant reassurance; he doesn’t believe himself weak. He knows who he is and what he is capable of, and that is enough.
So this is how he comes to know Hakyeon.
He learns that Taekwoon will always try to keep a little piece of their leader to himself, and that Hakyeon will let him, will keep a part of himself hidden away for only Taekwoon to see. That Hakyeon will never show them his pain, that he is still human, and that at the end of the day, he is consumed by his powers. He cannot extinguish the fire in his body, and that for as much as he loves Taekwoon, there is a part of him he cannot bear for Taekwoon to see--a part crippled and dying and weak.
Wonshik sees a boy who is scared and fighting to survive. He sees Hakyeon, and he is afraid of the consequence of losing himself, of losing control. He is afraid of what he believes Hakyeon will become, a wisp of smoke rather than an inferno, a shadow cast in shade.
He says all this one night after a bowl of instant ramyun and one too many beers, and Hakyeon watches him coolly, lets him ramble until he finally stops.
“Good,” says Hakyeon. “As long as you’re afraid of the future, I wouldn’t worry too much about the present.”
“Is that how you cope?” Wonshik asks, rubbing his eyes and trying to remember when his limbs got to be so heavy. “By being afraid?”
Hakyeon shakes his head. “I'm not afraid,” he says. He looks at Wonshik, and there’s no judgement in eyes, no concern. It isn’t gentle, and it isn’t kind. It's emotionless, but accepting. “I know how this story ends,” he says. “I know how it ends for me, and to some extent, I know how it will be for Taekwoon.”
“You’re not scared?” Wonshik repeats.
“You’ve seen how it is for me,” Hakyeon says. “The more scared I am, the less control I have. This power--it’s a gift, it’s a curse--it’s only as strong as your control. The amount of damage you can do is meaningless if you can’t control it. You’re no different than an act of God.
“I don’t care what you do,” he continues. “I only want to be sure you understand the extent of your abilities. What you do after, is none of my concern. You think I give orders, but I don’t. I don’t make anyone do anything they don’t want for themselves.”
He smiles, and Wonshik represses a shudder. It's a reminder and a warning, Wonshik knows. Whatever he thinks or believes of Hakyeon is irrelevant, and he wonders if maybe he’s the coward, iif he doesn’t seek answers because he’s terrified of what he’ll find.
“So, then,” Wonshik hesitates, suddenly more sober than ever. “What happens next? What happens in the future?”
Calmly, honestly, sincerely, Hakyeon looks him right in the eye and replies, “I don’t care.”
#
“Wonshik is smarter than i thought,” Hakyeon comments, while Taekwoon sucks on the skin behind ear.
“Still reckless,” Taekwoon says, sliding a hand down Hakyeon’s back and eliciting an appreciative moan. He groans, low in his throat, when Hakyeon presses a burning palm to his inner thigh.
“You like reckless,” Hakyeon says sweetly with a lick of his lips.
Taekwoon has long since learned it’s pointless to argue.
those mutant delinquent au drabbles finally morphed into their own fic u__u also wow, it's been a year. *GOES BACK INTO HIBERNATION*
you have to set yourself on fire
The way Hakyeon smiles, all bared teeth and lips curled cruelly, sends shivers down Taekwoon’s spine. He’s known from the start that Hakyeon is dangerous, that he’s got a fury within him that he can’t hold down. Taekwoon likes to think he understands Hakyeon at some level, but he knows he could never tame him, could never make the leader of their little gang of pyromaniacal misfits a docile creature. (Hakyeon burns much too hot to be held down.)
But when Hakyeon smiles at him, when his eyes are bright and clear, and he kisses Taekwoon all tongue and no teeth, Taekwoon dreams about the impossible. He aches for the day when he can reach for Hakyeon and extinguish his sparks before they flare into the catastrophic demons Hakyeon tries so hard to lock away.
There’s something in Hakyeon that’s dark and terrifying, something that Taekwoon can’t quell with words or a touch to the small of his back. Hakyeon is the only one of them who doesn’t carry a lighter because he doesn’t need to. It’s not necessary when a snap of a finger or a clap of his hands can set cities aflame.
But when Hakyeon is okay, when he’s straddling Taekwoon’s lap with his hands in Taekwoon’s hair, his lips swollen and red, and his gasps are quiet and pleading, Taekwoon reaches for him. He holds Hakyeon by his hips and pulls him close, whispering promises he hopes to keep.
Taekwoon has his own problems; he’s got a quick temper and a quicker fist, but he thinks, maybe, if he could just save Hakyeon, there might be redemption for himself.
#
He wakes up to Hakyeon tucked against him, snoring softly. his back shields Hakyeon from the summer night breeze, and he closes his eyes again once he sees that it’s not yet 5am. For a while he just dozes, vaguely aware of the gentle rise and fall of Hakyeon’s chest and the summer air whispering across his spine.
It's hot, he thinks sleepily, instinctively pulling Hakyeon closer, a small, sweat-slicked ball of barely controlled fire and terribly restrained rage.
“Hakyeon,” he murmurs. “Hakyeon-ah.”
Hakyeon doesn’t respond. He sleeps on, and the air around them continues to radiate with heat.
Taekwoon presses a kiss to the curve of his shoulder, tries to take some of the heat away, tries to take it into his own skin. It’s dizzying and torturous, and the very marrow of his bones burn as they do, as they always do when he does this, when he tries to dampen the pain that Hakyeon carries within himself every day.
There’s only so much he can take, and he relents with a gasp, feeling as though his blood just might boil.
#
Hakyeon sleeps and sleeps. He doesn’t move until long after everyone else starts to go about their day. Taekwoon stays in bed for as long as he can and returns with a cup of freshly brewed coffee when he thinks Hakyeon is awake.
He sits at the edge of the bed, mug in one hand, stroking Hakyeon’s hair softly while the other stares out the window towards the early afternoon sun.
The liquid is cool by the time Hakyeon manages to sit up. “Does it hurt?” Taekwoon asks, passing him the cup.
“When I fell from heaven?” Hakyeon returns hoarsely, the mischievous smile not quite managing to reach his eyes. “I'm fine,” he adds when Taekwoon doesn’t respond. “Really.”
Taekwoon nods. “Tomorrow’s monday,” he says.
“Yes,” says Hakyeon, expectant.
“I'll be back as soon as I can.”
Hakyeon lips quirk, amused. “It’s not necessary,” he says. when Taekwoon tries to protest, he continues. “I need you to talk to someone.”
Taekwoon frowns. The last time Hakyeon had wanted to talk to someone, it hadn’t ended well. Taekwoon has the jagged scar on his left forearm to prove it.
As if he knows what Taekwoon is thinking (and maybe he does, Taekwoon wouldn’t put such omniscience past Hakyeon), he says, “It’s not retribution. more like an offer.”
Taekwoon sincerely doubts that any of Hakyeon’s requests could be anything short of collecting a debt, but he agrees anyway because even at his weakest, Taekwoon is still powerless to Hakyeon’s will. He can’t explain it, never could, not when neither Jaehwan nor Hongbin nor Sanghyuk share his sentiments.
“It’s because you’re in love with him,” Jaehwan once said. “Because you can’t bear the thought of disappointing him.”
“It’s because you trust him,” Hongbin offered. “And he trusts you.”
“It’s because you’re scared,” Sanghyuk countered pragmatically. “Isn’t that why any of us does everything he says?”
But now, when Hakyeon is setting aside his cup and pulling Taekwoon close, and Taekwoon can still taste the lingering hints of vanilla in his mouth, Taekwoon thinks it’s because he needs Hakyeon to need him. because if Hakyeon isn’t directing him to dirty his hands with filthy blood, he doesn’t know what other excuse he can use. If the red flashes in his vision aren’t Hakyeon’s flames pushing him forward, then he’d have to face his demons on his own.
“You’ll do it for me?” Hakyeon whispers against his ear, one hand on his thigh and the other on his cock.
“Yes,” Taekwoon hisses, pushing his hips forward, aching for more than just touch.
“Tell me,” Hakyeon coaxes, his hands hot and unforgiving. “Say you’ll do it.”
“I'll do it,” Taekwoon groans, cursing loudly when Hakyeon gives him an encouraging squeeze. “I'll do anything.”
Hakyeon kisses him hard, and Taekwoon surges forward, pinning him down, rolling their hips together until Hakyeon whines, needy and lustful. He sinks his teeth into Taekwoon’s shoulder when Taekwoon thrusts in, and his back arches beautifully when Taekwoon finds just the right angle.
“No one loves me like you,” Hakyeon gasps as his fingers send bright sparks across the sheets.
Taekwoon is dizzy from the heat, and Hakyeon is almost too hot to touch. Hakyeon draws him in, thighs tight across his hips, searing his skin.
He swears, from the pain or the pleasure, he can’t be sure. He is never sure, not when Hakyeon is crying out and clenching around him so, so tight.
When he collapses next to Hakyeon, vision hazy, muscles sore and aching, and skin red and shiny with fresh burns, he’s sure it must be love, a stupid, cowardly, destructive love because there is no other way he would ever let anyone hold him so close that he would have trouble finding himself.
Hakyeon reaches for him, calling quietly--shy, almost--for his “little lionheart,” and Taekwoon can’t turn to any other voice than his.
#
School is, for the most part, entirely uneventful. They’re in different years so Taekwoon doesn’t usually get to see any of the younger ones outside of their home. Today is no different. He goes through his classes for the sake of attendance and escapes to the roof when he thinks he can manage it. His ever-present lighter is the only company he keeps, its glossy finish dulled by constant fumbling.
A “no entrance” sign hangs on the door inside the stairwell, neglected and ignored by all. He leans against the railing, back to the skyline, playing with the thumbwheel of his zippo. time feels slower when he’s here, away from everything, from Hakyeon. There is no direction, just quiet, oppressive space. and he finds it unsettling.
He drifts, aimless, back towards his classroom. He stares at the clock throughout the lesson, watching each excruciating second tick by with such slow finality, Taekwoon almost expects the hands to stop.
He nearly jumps out of his seat at the sound of the bell, heart racing and cheeks flushed. He doesn’t bother listening to the assignments as he grabs his bag and hurtles off to the other side of the building, down two flights of stairs and stops dead in front of a classroom when he spies the face that Hakyeon had so adamantly wanted to see.
He’s across the room in three short strides. “You,” he almost snarls, glowering as he takes in the boy’s brightly colored hair to the blackened edges on the buttons of his shirt that bely the rudimentary control of his powers.
The boy stares at him, taken aback, but unafraid. Taekwoon purses his lips and swallows down his pride. There’s no challenge here, he’s sure. Whatever Hakyeon wants the kid, it isn’t something Taekwoon need to be too concerned with. So he levels his voice into something a little more neutral and extends a hand.
“Come with me.”
#
The first time Wonshik meets Hongbin, the boy is lying on his back, humming in acknowledgement whenever Hakyeon pauses expectantly. He's quite beautiful, his jaw sharp, lips curled up in amusement, eyes closed. His hair is swept back, away from his face, and he lounges there in the middle of the room with the lazy grace of someone who's used to being underestimated, who knows he's much more that just a pretty face. Wonshik wonders what kind of ferocity is lurking behind that smile.
There’s something dangerous about all of them. He knows this because there’s no other reason for them to stick together, no reason for Taekwoon to approach him at school, leaning invasively into his space with his head cocked to one side and a hand beckoning him to follow. There’s no reason for Taekwoon to lead him to a terribly furnished apartment with lighters scattered on the floors like lost coins. There’s no need for Hakyeon to grin at him, complexion pallid, but eyes devious when he says, “I’ve been watching you, Kim Wonshik. I want to see what you can do.”
#
“There are three things that need to present for a fire to start,” Hakyeon says pedantically. Taekwoon sits on the floor, passing a ball of fire between himself and Sanghyuk, letting the younger practice his manipulation. “First, heat.”
Hongbin glances up, and at Hakyeon’s nod, he smiles, beatific. The room is suddenly sweltering. Wonshik tugs uncomfortably at the sleeves of his uniform, his brow glistening with sweat. Hongbin grins.
“Second, an oxidizer.”
Jaehwan catches Taekwoon’s eye, and Taekwoon purses his lips. He lets the small ball of flames die out. Sanghyuk pouts.
“And fuel.”
Sanghyuk furrows his brow, concentrating on the area in front of Wonshik. The air shimmers with heat waves radiating from an invisible origin, and Wonshik takes a step back, cautious.
“More, Jaehwannie,” says Hakyeon.
Jaehwan blows Wonshik a kiss. The air sparks and ignites, forming a decently sized fireball waiting to be seized. Hakyeon steps forward, letting the flames twist and curl around him, intimate and familiar, protective. Slowly, the fire unfurls, seeping out towards the carpet but never quite touching the floor.
Taekwoon blinks and the room is cool again, with no evidence of a fire. Hakyeon snaps his fingers, and instantly, obediently, the enchanting glow of flames engulf them once more. With a free hand, he takes Wonshik by the wrist and passes him the flames. Wonshik stares as the tendrils rise and threaten to singe his eyebrows.
“Show me,” Hakyeon requests. “What are you capable of?”
Wonshik smiles tightly and releases a slow, calculated breath. He casts the flames downwards, weaving their way around Hakyeon’s feet and spiraling towards the small dinner table behind him. The flames circle along the wooden legs, almost teasing in the way they dance and leap. Suddenly, the fire grows, swallowing the table in its intensity. Something seems to collapse, and the fire is truly burning now, smoke quickly filling the air.
Taekwoon senses the imminent danger and reacts before he realizes it. He turns his focus to Hakyeon, to the air in front of him, manipulating it, draining the oxygen, forcing a barrier to shield their leader. Hakyeon’s eyes flicker towards him, and Taekwoon knows he’ll get it later, knows that Hakyeon will punish him for underestimating him. Taekwoon just shrugs, helpless.
Jaehwan is quick to smother the rest of the flames, as Hongbin pulls the remaining heat away. Sanghyuk gets up to check the damage, rapping the wood gently with his knuckles. He deems the remnants salvageable, if a little well done. Taekwoon does not join the others in their laughter.
Hakyeon throws an arm around Wonshik’s neck. “I knew it,” he practically purrs in appreciation. “You’re an Amplifier.”
Wonshik tests the word in his mouth and decides that he likes it. “Sounds special,” he comments.
“You need to practice control,” Hakyeon says, voice pitched low in warning. “Or else, the fire--it’ll eat you alive.”
Wonshik nods, sheepish. “Okay,” he acquiesces. “I will.”
#
“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon starts, but Hakyeon waves him off, climbing wearily under the sheets.
“I'm tired, Taekwoonie,” he mutters. “Just come to bed.”
Taekwoon hesitates. He wants to talk, wants to know why Hakyeon didn’t stop the fire himself, when he knew Wonshik couldn’t control it, when he knew the others might not have noticed the danger until it was too late.
“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon calls, turning over and gazing at Taekwoon imploringly.
Taekwoon sighs and pads over, careful not to disturb the cocoon Hakyeon has already enveloped himself in. Hakyeon burrows himself more comfortably against Taekwoon’s chest. “Don’t give up,” Taekwoon hears himself plead. “Not yet.”
“Don’t say stupid things,” Hakyeon chides. His eyes are warm when he smiles, and Taekwoon has to remind himself that this is Hakyeon, that deceit is not a foreign concept in this room. “Anyway,” he murmurs. “What do you think about Wonshik?”
“He’s powerful,” Taekwoon replies, because there’s no denying it. “But reckless.”
“And you’re not?” Hakyeon returns. “What would you have done if Hongbin hadn’t suppressed the heat of the fire for you? You would’ve killed yourself--and all of us--trying to take all the oxygen out of the room. Don’t overestimate yourself, Jung Taekwoon, and don’t ever underestimate me again.”
Taekwoon doesn’t reply right away. He lets the words sink in, lets the quiet fury soak into him. He realizes with a start that Hakyeon was never worried about himself, but of Taekwoon, of what would happen if Wonshik had decided, intentionally, to cause serious damage.
“I'm sorry,” he says, kissing the top of Hakyeon’s head. “I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Hakyeon repeats, an edge still present in his voice. “Don’t do stupid things, Taekwoon. I need you.”
It isn’t until later, when Hakyeon’s snores have become an almost hypnotic lullaby, that Taekwoon realizes that that was as close to a confession that Hakyeon could bear to give..
#
The first time Wonshik actually talks to Hongbin, Hongbin just smiles at him without saying a word. It's expectant and calculating, but Wonshik knows better. The kitchen is hot, and Wonshik knows he's not the one who turned on the stove. "Cute," he says, and Hongbin's grin widens. The dimples really are quite charming.
The heat dies down, and Wonshik lets out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. "Wonshik, right?" he asks, and Wonshik nods. Hongbin smiles to himself, laughing softly. "That's a nice name," he says, mouth rounding around the syllables. "Kim Wonshik."
"Uh," says Wonshik intelligently, eyeing the way tip of Hongbin's tongue peeks out to lick his lips. (It's a very pretty mouth.) "Thanks."
Hongbin smiles again, appreciative, and he leans against the kitchen counter, waiting.
Wonshik swallows. “So, uh, you control heat--I mean, temperature?”
Hongbin’s smile becomes more of a smirk. “Yeah,” he says. “Why? Is it getting a little too warm for you?”
#
Hongbin, Wonshik comes to find, has a certain appreciation for things.
"I like negative space," Hongbin says calmly, tracing a trail along the trunk of a tree for the line of fire to follow. "I like the way things aren't."
Wonshik raises an eyebrow, and Hongbin lets his hand fall, ignoring the sparks that leap after him. "What about you?"
"Me?" questions Wonshik with a frown. "Never thought about it, really."
Hongbin quirks his lips, and Wonshik steps forward, picking up where the other left off. He traces searing, bold lines that scorch the bark, leaving the air thick with smoke. A cough behind him makes him stop, and he turns to find Hongbin hunched over, wheezing. "Sorry," he says with a choked laugh. "It's funny, isn't it? An asthmatic pyrokinetic."
He lets the flames burn themselves out and spends the rest of the afternoon running soothing hands down Hongbin's back and helping him count his breaths.
When they trudge back home, Hakyeon eyes him suspiciously. Hongbin’s breaths are still a little short, and Taekwoon silently retrieves his inhaler. “What happened,” Hakyeon asks, accusingly.
“It's nothing,” Hongbin says with a faint smile. “I got carried away.”
“Carried away,” echoes Hakyeon disbelievingly.
Hongbin smiles his sweet smile and lets Hakyeon press a hot hand to his cheek. “I'm fine,” he reassures him, and Hakyeon smoothes down his bangs for him.
Hakyeon lets them go, but not without grabbing Wonshik’s wrist and admonishing him to be careful.
That night, Wonshik stares up at the ceiling in the room he shares with Jaehwan and Hongbin. The skin on his arm burns, the boils in the shape of fingers having burst hours before.
#
“If you’re just going to dick around,” Hakyeon snaps. “You can leave.”
“Jesus,” says Wonshik, rubbing his wrists. “Lighten up. what are you so afraid of? I'm just feeling out my limits, testing boundaries, isn’t that what you’re all about?”
Hakyeon grits his teeth. None of this is going as he’d imagined. He had hoped Wonshik would be more like Sanghyuk--a little nervous, with a helping of that over-cautiousness; or even like Jaehwan, confident, but still skittish, unnerved by his own strength. Instead, Wonshik is brazen to the point of brash, and his over-inflated ego is in constant danger of bursting.
Hakyeon wants to break him, wants him to see just how deadly these wretched, cursed powers can be, but Wonshik isn’t easily intimidated, and before, Hakyeon had admired that about him, but now, Wonshik’s recklessness offends him more than anything.
“You’re completely uncontrolled,” Hakyeon scolds. “You don’t even know how you’re destroying yourself or how that affects everyone else around you.”
“If this is about Hongbin--”
“This is about you,” Hakyeon snarls, temper flaring, and Shit, he thinks for that split second as something inside of him breaks. He feels that all too familiar heaviness in his limbs, quickly followed by the rush of heat. A boiling hot anger courses through him, searing through his bloodstream like lightning, scorching him alive. The sparks are forming, crackling ominously as they dance across the surface of his skin, and his traitorous body wants him to direct all his energy outward, searching desperately for release.
Wonshik, sensing danger, steps back quickly, alarmed. “Look, Hakyeon, I wasn’t--”
“Get me Taekwoon,” Hakyeon rasps, shutting his eyes tight and relishing the burn, the numbing intensity of the pain, as it soaks through his bones, and he trembles in anticipation.
Wonshik doesn’t even manage two steps before Taekwoon is shoving him back, and several pairs of hands grab onto him, pulling him from the scene. He looks back to see Hakyeon clawing at Taekwoon, eyes feral, movements as frenzied as a captured animal, small bursts of fire escaping from his palm. Taekwoon wrestles him to the ground, and the entire time, Hakyeon is yelling, screaming, in agony or rage, Wonshik can’t tell. The words Hakyeon speaks are incomprehensible, alien, and he refuses to be held down.
Taekwoon is thrown off with a grunt, and Wonshik strains to go back to help. “He’s going to kill him!” Wonshik yells, but Jaehwan, with an uncharacteristic show of strength, yanks him back.
Wonshik’s sure if he could just get his lighter, anyone’s lighter, the five of them could take Hakyeon down, but then Taekwoon grabs Hakyeon by the neck and shoves him off, and his eyes flash a brilliant, inhuman gold, and Wonshik gasps as Hakyeon lets out an enraged screech, quickly followed by a pained moan. Taekwoon holds him down, a knee to his back and his hands pressed tight against Hakyeon’s neck, speaking loudly, firmly, in the same unintelligible language.
Wonshik looks away and runs in the direction he’s pulled.
#
“You should be careful,” says Jaehwan, without preamble, the morning after. Wonshik spoons another bite of cereal into his mouth. Jaehwan kicks him under the table. “I'm serious,” he says. “Don’t make Hakyeon angry.”
“I'm trying,” says Wonshik, frowning as he rubs his ankle.
“Try harder,” Jaehwan corrects. “Because the closer you get to Hongbin, the more likely you’ll set him off again.”
Wonshik stiffens. “I thought Taekwoon and Hakyeon--but Hongbin? are they--”
“No,” says Jaehwan automatically. “But that makes it worse, doesn’t it?”
Wonshik says nothing, doesn’t move until Jaehwan points out his spoon is melting.
“Anyway,” says Jaehwan. “It's Taekwoon you have to watch out for.”
“What do you mean?” Wonshik inquires, curious. for the most part, he doesn’t talk to Taekwoon. Taekwoon, to him, is like a free-spirited housecat. He comes and goes as he pleases; makes his presence known by flitting around in the periphery, but rarely does he ever make an appearance except, Wonshik’s noticed, for Hakyeon.
Jaehwan just smiles. “He’s very protective,” is all he says. of who, Wonshik never finds out.
#
“What does he mean by that?” Wonshik wonders aloud to Hongbin. “Does Taekwoon not like me?”
“I don’t think so,” Hongbin says mildly. He sucks on his straw thoughtfully, not bothering to mix his iced caramel macchiato. Wonshik eyes the level of the milk as it slowly descends. “If he didn’t like you, you would know.”
“That’s not actually comforting,” Wonshik admits. It occurs to him that, apart from the time Taekwoon had cornered him at school, he has never actually heard Taekwoon speak. “Is it because Hakyeon doesn’t like me?”
“You’re still breathing,” Sanghyuk notes. “So I think he likes you fine.”
“You’re a brat,” says Wonshik. “Why are you speaking so informally?”
Sanghyuk shrugs. “Does it matter?” he says, and Wonshik remembers the way Hakyeon fusses over him, how he refuses to let him leave the dinner table without a second helping of everything.
Wonshik shuts his mouth. “It doesn’t,” he grits out.
Sanghyuk, apparently satisfied, goes on. “Besides, the last time Taekwoon mentioned he didn’t like someone, the guy didn’t have a tongue left to complain with.”
Wonshik turns to Hongbin. Hongbin squints at his drink, deems it worthy of one more sip, and passes the remaining black liquid to Wonshik. “You can have that,” he says sweetly.
Wonshik frowns and drinks. The espresso is much more bitter than he expected, and he nearly gags. “What’s Taekwoon’s story anyway?” he coughs. “What’s with him and Hakyeon?”
“It's complicated,” says Sanghyuk.
“You should ask them yourself,” says Hongbin, smiling.
“Anyway,” Sanghyuk adds. “None of us really know. It's been Hakyeon and Taekwoon from the beginning.”
“I don’t get it,” says Wonshik.
Hongbin shrugs. “I was with them before Jaehwan and before Sanghyuk. But when Hakyeon approached me, Taekwoon was already there. They never said anything, and I never asked.”
“That’s...strange,” Wonshik tries.
“It's Hakyeon and Taekwoon,” says Hongbin with a lick of his lips that leaves Wonshik wondering just how sweet he must taste right now. “There’s nothing strange about it.”
#
On one of the rare occasions Hakyeon wakes up early to join them for breakfast, he’s uncharacteristically quiet, pushing his eggs onto Sanghyuk’s plate wordlessly as he sips slowly at a cup of orange juice.
“Hyung,” Hongbin starts gently. “Why don’t we go out later? It's been a while.”
Hakyeon blinks. “Oh,” he says. “That’s right, you just finished your exams.” He hesitates. “You guys go ahead.”
“Hyung?” Sanghyuk queries. “You’re coming, too, right?”
Hakyeon doesn’t answer, but he smiles and gives Sanghyuk’s cheek a light pat. “We’ll see,” he says, instead.
Taekwoon watches the entire exchange with a frown. He doesn’t expect the others to notice how Hakyeon’s breaths seem to be coming in short, shallow bursts, or how his complexion is paler than usual. He tries to think about what he should do, what Hakyeon would want him to do. He doesn’t know if he should lead Hakyeon back to the bedroom or herd everyone else out instead.
He tries to catch Hakyeon’s eye, but Hakyeon carefully, studiously avoids his gaze. Taekwoon glances at the rest of them. Only Jaehwan seems uneasy with Hakyeon’s reply, and he furrows his brow when he sees Taekwoon looking.
“Hakyeon probably has something planned with Taekwoon,” Jaehwan says, keeping his voice light and teasing. “Let’s get out of their way. Last one at the park buys lunch!”
The younger ones, spurred into action, practically throw themselves out the door. Jaehwan holds back for a moment. “Be careful?” he says to Taekwoon, unsure, cocking his head at Hakyeon’s slumped form.
Taekwoon allows him a slight smile. “Thank you,” he says, and Jaehwan nods in understanding.
Hakyeon does not look up when the door shuts. His eyes are closed, and the dark circles under them seem deeper set than ever.
“Does it hurt?” Taekwoon asks. He pulls his chair as close as he can and runs a hand along Hakyeon’s back in soothing strokes.
Hakyeon remains silent, but he nods, holding out a hand that Taekwoon takes immediately. Heat radiates off his skin in relentless waves. Taekwoon focuses his attention to connecting with Hakyeon, to let the heat slip from Hakyeon’s fingers into his, and Hakyeon, too tired to protest, lets him. He’s learned by now that as long as they take it slow, as long as Taekwoon doesn’t try to absorb all of Hakyeon’s energy at once, the pain is bearable.
Something in Taekwoon’s chest settles when Hakyeon gives a quiet sigh of relief, the color back in his cheeks. The fire in his veins no longer seems to burn as strongly, and the pain becomes a dull ache.
“Hakyeon-ah,” Taekwoon murmurs without letting go. “Don’t shut me out. Just let me help you.”
Hakyeon stares at him, his jaw set, but he doesn’t try to pull away. He just stares and stares until he finally looks away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “I don’t want you in pain because of me.”
“Yah,” Taekwoon says with a small smile. “It's a little late for that.”
Hakyeon’s lips turn up. He glances at Taekwoon, eyes trailing down to the scar on his bicep, to his waist and hips where he knows without looking that Taekwoon’s skin is perpetually red and tender to the touch.
“Wonshik is curious,” Hakyeon remarks, reaching up to press a hand to Taekwoon’s cheek. Taekwoon leans into his touch without reserve. “I think he wants to know if he’ll be like me. I think he’s scared.”
“What do you want to do?”
Hakyeon lets out a breath. ever since they met, they have searched for answers. By now, there’s not a church in Korea that Hakyeon and Taekwoon haven’t prayed in, nor a temple they haven’t lit incense for. “Damned by the priests and blessed by the monks,” Hakyeon murmurs. He lets Taekwoon pull him close, comforted by his steadfast loyalty.
“Some say we’re possessed,” Taekwoon says neutrally. “And some think we’re reincarnated gods.”
Hakyeon looks up at him with a small, thoughtful frown. “I am no god,” he says.
Taekwoon thinks about the things he’s done, the fights he’s gotten into, and the punches he’s never pulled. He doesn’t always use his powers for good, and he’s not sorry. He’s watched people die, heard them beg, and sometimes he feels guilt and sometimes he doesn’t.
But every time Hakyeon touches him, reassuringly warm if not always gentle, Taekwoon swears it feels a little like absolution.
#
“Kongie likes you, you know,” Hakyeon says to him nonchalantly one day when he accompanies his hyung to the corner store. It takes Wonshik a moment to figure out who Kongie is, but when he does, he stays quiet, unsure of what to say.
“I think you like him, too,” Hakyeon continues. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”
It's funny, Wonshik thinks with a suppressed shudder, how cold Hakyeon can be even though he burns so hot. “I'm not doing anything,” Wonshik says, as evenly as he can.
He takes a step back when Hakyeon turns to face him, and his wrists tingle. “You haven’t done anything yet,” Hakyeon corrects, looking amused.
“What does that even mean,” says Wonshik, bewildered. “If you’re going to set me on fire, just do it already.”
“Oh,” says Hakyeon contemplatively, turning back to the shelves. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” he pauses, half-bent towards a jar of peanut butter and squints up at Wonshik. “Why, should i?”
“No,” says Wonshik. “I like my skin the way it is, thanks.”
“Hm,” says Hakyeon, sounding bored. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”
His tone of voice suggests Wonshik do the exact opposite, and Wonshik doesn’t bother to argue.
“Can I ask you something?” Wonshik says, feeling bold. “What’s with you and Taekwoon? How did you find him? Or how did he find you?”
“We just found each other,” Hakyeon says. The words are kind, but final, and Wonshik, wisely, lets it go.
#
Hongbin leads him out into the cool city night when their room becomes too hot to sleep in. At first, Wonshik had thought Hakyeon had fallen ill, but Hongbin had just laughed and tugged him out onto the balcony where they easily leapt over the railings. It wasn’t until they’d rounded the corner back to the front of the building did Wonshik catch a glimpse of the bedroom Hakyeon and Taekwoon shared.
“Oh,” he says, startled, unable to stop himself from watching the way the heat waves roll off Hakyeon’s body with each thrust of Taekwoon’s hips.
“Intense, isn’t it?” Hongbin whispers, right by his ear. Wonshik swallows.
“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, tearing his eyes away from the scene, but the image (god, the image) of Hakyeon digging his fingers into Taekwoon’s back, legs wrapped around Taekwoon’s slim waist, is here to stay.
Hongbin laughs lowly, and Wonshik tries valiantly not to turn his face to capture those lips with his own. He succeeds for all of ten seconds before Hongbin nips at his ear impatiently.
“Are you going to kiss me or not,” says Hongbin, because there’s really no question. So Wonshik does.
#
This is how Wonshik comes to know Hongbin.
Hongbin kisses him as easily as he breathes. He kisses Wonshik’s lips and cheeks, whispers the dirtiest things with the sweetest smile, traces the scar on Wonshik’s wrist. “You love me,” he says reverently, eyes wide with a masked innocence.
“You scare me,” Wonshik never says. He presses his fingers into Hongbin’s neck to drag him close, smirks when Hongbin complains about the smokiness of his mouth. “I love no one like I love you,” he says because it's true.
As long as Hongbin is happy, Wonshik can deal with everything else as it comes. He knows this as surely as he knows that as long as Taekwoon is alive, Hakyeon could never let him go. He doesn’t hate the dependence as much as Hakyeon seems to, never tries to provoke Hongbin into a rage, never asks for the impossible. He doesn’t need the constant reassurance; he doesn’t believe himself weak. He knows who he is and what he is capable of, and that is enough.
So this is how he comes to know Hakyeon.
He learns that Taekwoon will always try to keep a little piece of their leader to himself, and that Hakyeon will let him, will keep a part of himself hidden away for only Taekwoon to see. That Hakyeon will never show them his pain, that he is still human, and that at the end of the day, he is consumed by his powers. He cannot extinguish the fire in his body, and that for as much as he loves Taekwoon, there is a part of him he cannot bear for Taekwoon to see--a part crippled and dying and weak.
Wonshik sees a boy who is scared and fighting to survive. He sees Hakyeon, and he is afraid of the consequence of losing himself, of losing control. He is afraid of what he believes Hakyeon will become, a wisp of smoke rather than an inferno, a shadow cast in shade.
He says all this one night after a bowl of instant ramyun and one too many beers, and Hakyeon watches him coolly, lets him ramble until he finally stops.
“Good,” says Hakyeon. “As long as you’re afraid of the future, I wouldn’t worry too much about the present.”
“Is that how you cope?” Wonshik asks, rubbing his eyes and trying to remember when his limbs got to be so heavy. “By being afraid?”
Hakyeon shakes his head. “I'm not afraid,” he says. He looks at Wonshik, and there’s no judgement in eyes, no concern. It isn’t gentle, and it isn’t kind. It's emotionless, but accepting. “I know how this story ends,” he says. “I know how it ends for me, and to some extent, I know how it will be for Taekwoon.”
“You’re not scared?” Wonshik repeats.
“You’ve seen how it is for me,” Hakyeon says. “The more scared I am, the less control I have. This power--it’s a gift, it’s a curse--it’s only as strong as your control. The amount of damage you can do is meaningless if you can’t control it. You’re no different than an act of God.
“I don’t care what you do,” he continues. “I only want to be sure you understand the extent of your abilities. What you do after, is none of my concern. You think I give orders, but I don’t. I don’t make anyone do anything they don’t want for themselves.”
He smiles, and Wonshik represses a shudder. It's a reminder and a warning, Wonshik knows. Whatever he thinks or believes of Hakyeon is irrelevant, and he wonders if maybe he’s the coward, iif he doesn’t seek answers because he’s terrified of what he’ll find.
“So, then,” Wonshik hesitates, suddenly more sober than ever. “What happens next? What happens in the future?”
Calmly, honestly, sincerely, Hakyeon looks him right in the eye and replies, “I don’t care.”
#
“Wonshik is smarter than i thought,” Hakyeon comments, while Taekwoon sucks on the skin behind ear.
“Still reckless,” Taekwoon says, sliding a hand down Hakyeon’s back and eliciting an appreciative moan. He groans, low in his throat, when Hakyeon presses a burning palm to his inner thigh.
“You like reckless,” Hakyeon says sweetly with a lick of his lips.
Taekwoon has long since learned it’s pointless to argue.