#60: The Land of the Forsaken (part 2)
“I’ve narrowed down the possible locations to these three over here.”
“Okay.”
“The scouts think that there are around 250 caves around the area, but these three are the only ones between the two settlements that are big enough to house an S rank demon.”
“Okay. How updated is their map?”
“The base map is roughly 20 years old, but they’ve made a lot of changes and updates since then. It’s hard to cover that much ground so we’re going by a round estimation. They’re pretty sure that their map is about 80% accurate though.”
“Right, okay, we can still build on that.”
“Yeah, but they said that some of the lakes have dried up and some have been made recently, so we can’t be certain if the demon’s getting his water from these lakes or from new water sources nearer other big caves.”
“Hmm. I think we should focus on the three that we’ve got first, especially when this river stretches a long way from here to here. I think they’re worth a shot.”
“Okay then. Then, that’s all I’ve got for now.”
“Alright.”
“Alright. How was the site?”
“Not very good. The rain washed away just about everything there, all except some strange piercings on the ground and a couple of tracks. But other than that, nothing much.”
“I see.”
“The demon most likely attacks with something akin to several sharp daggers, or it has a very big claw - one of those. They’re definitely sharp enough to pierce through the body and into the ground. Probably two-legged too.”
“Alright. It’s better than nothing.”
“Yeah, I’ll try to get through to Soojeong in the meantime.”
“Okay. I’ll ask around about the disappearances.”
“Okay.”
“Alright.”
“How are you doing today, Soojeong?”
Taemin sits beside Soojeong and together they watch as the market vendors set up their stalls. It is strangely calming and soothingly cathartic in its repetition. As the chatter blends into the background and as the light streams in in a majestic fashion, there is a dream-like quality to it, as if he’s watching a film. In fact, it almost feels like a date with Soojeong in her red frilly dress (sans the unintentional paedophiliac insinuation) and he playfully wonders if he should feel nervous about it.
“Good? Ahh, I see...”
He knows he’s practically talking to himself, but he can be patient if he wants to be. It’s also a nice change of pace for him.
“I’m doing good too, thanks for asking.”
He’d hoped that the teasing would warm her up to him but it doesn’t seem to be working. He’s not expecting too much, honestly; an acknowledgement would make him happy enough.
“You know,” Taemin begins to say, and he hopes that she’s listening. It has been days of silence and small talk, and he thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to treat her like a child, to try and ease her into it. She’s more adult than any child can be and he realises that that is why he likes her. “I was there when the demons killed my family too.”
It feels strange to be unloading to someone else that isn’t Jongin. He looks at her and wonders if that was how he was like before.
“I was young, and there was nothing that I could do. The demons were ruthless and I was small and helpless and frightened out of my wits. I remember screaming and crying and calling for help, but the entire city was already ruined. There wasn’t any help alive to give. Not until a few days later,” he says and he fiddles with his shirt. “I get what you’re going through, I really do. You don’t want to talk because no matter how much you cried for help, no one came to help you or your parents.”
She looks up at him as if she’s amazed by his ability to read her and her adorable round eyes make him want to melt.
“So you’re thinking,” he continues kindly. “What’s the point of having a voice if using it does nothing at all? Especially if it did nothing to help your parents.”
She looks down at her lap and nods slowly.
“I know it’s hard for you,” he says. “But the bad demon could be going after other people and eating them too. If we - me and the other handsome older brother - don’t stop him soon, he might even come here and kill everyone else like he did to your parents.”
He winces at the brutal honesty.
“We can help everyone here, but what could improve our chances of killing this demon is if you told us more about this demon. How he looks, the scary parts about him, how sharp his teeth are - things like that. Of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you do, it’ll be a huge help to us. We… actually don’t have a lot of time left here.” He rubs his neck nervously at his words. “So think about it alright? You know where our room is. I’m sure the other handsome older brother would be happy to see you vis-”
And she perks up and Taemin stops mid-sentence. Well, that’s a peculiar reaction.
“H-Handsome older brother?” she says and Taemin looks at her in surprise. They are Soojeong’s first words in a long time and he thinks he should be making more of a big deal out of it but he doesn’t know how to.
“Yeah.” Taemin softens. He decides to not to make her overly conscious about them. “His name is Jongin.” He nudges her playfully - there is no doubt, she has a little crush.
“I like him,” she says softly, but then she looks alarmed and looks around as if to make sure Jongin wasn’t there to overhear. Red slowly blotches her cheeks.
Taemin smiles. “I like him too.” How different can he say his feelings towards Jongin are, compared to her?
“I…” She pauses and then she stands up on the bench, bending down. “I like you too,” she whispers into his ear.
A warmth blooms in his chest. She soon becomes shy, hiding her face in her small hands, and Taemin is absolutely enamoured. He gently pulls her towards him to give her a small hug.
“Aw. Thank you.” Taemin grins. Soojeong might just be his first and his last (and his only) girlfriend. “I like you too, Soojeong.”
Soojeong smiles back at him.
“Hey Jongin.” The voice rings out from the darkness of the bottom bunk.
“Mm?” The voice sounds tentative.
“If you’re going to kidnap one of the children to keep, kidnap Soojeong.”
A snort. A pause. “Alright then. You can’t take those words back.”
“Deal. But right now I’m trying to win her over, so for the time being, stay away from her.”
“No way. I’ll smother her with skinship.”
“Cheater.”
“Pfffft.”
A whisper. “Paedophile.”
It was a rainy day. He distinctly remembers it to be a rainy day. For the merciless sky which wept down slews of raindrops that thundered the grounds, for the echoes of desperation that were drowned out by the wrath of the angry skies, and for the heavy weight of exhaustion that swept every inch of his body, he remembers it all clear as day.
He remembers the despair and hopelessness that ran his blood cold, the breathlessness that arrived with the panic. He remembers the warm curl of blood slipping through the gaps of his fingers; thick and sticky to the touch. He even remembers how the air had tasted like; like a plaguing combination of petrichor, iron, and an indescribable mix of staleness. Most of all, he remembers Jongin, badly wounded and laid down on the floor of their outlying cave; as lifeless as a corpse, as weak as a kitten. Jongin was a battered body and Taemin was beyond terrified.
It was the year 2008 and Jongin had been struck down by a demon that proved to be much too powerful for them. For the ambition and naïveté that latched onto them in their young age, they’d become far too greedy for revenge, far too greedy to start proving their worth to anyone who merely saw them as two little boys trying to do an adult’s work. Taemin remembers it raining and them stowing themselves away in a cave, helpless. There was no salvation and for their arrogance and impatience, there were consequences to yield.
“I’m sorry,” Jongin says solemnly one day. Taemin looks up from where he’s sitting on the bottom bunk of the bed packing his bag for their last destination as Jongin stands at the entrance of their room. Jongin’s stance is upright and confident, yet his head is bowed down a little dejectedly, and the contrast makes Taemin smile. “I didn’t mean to snap at you the other day.”
“You didn’t.” Taemin reassures him.
“I did.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry.” Taemin sighs, bowing his own head. Their old conversation’s been running in his head enough times for him to pick out what had ticked Jongin off. They’ve spent half their lives in each other’s pockets, after all, even if he had to allow the hurt to subside before the realisation could hit him. “I didn’t mean to imply that we weren’t already family,” Taemin says.
Jongin sighs and chuckles to himself self-depreciatingly. Taemin feels the same way.
“I realised that too, eventually. I was too quick to assume.” Jongin sounds a little resigned and he walks forward to settle himself in front of Taemin on the bottom bunk. He starts pushing in various items into Taemin’s bag wordlessly but Taemin decides not to say anything about it. “No matter the worries or thoughts you think I may have, I will never abandon you, you know.”
“I know.” Taemin smiles, albeit, sadly. He shifts around the things in his bag for a better fit. “Me too. Not if I had a choice.”
There is a slight pause but Jongin eventually says, “I know.” It is laced with meaning and Taemin knows that. It relieves him more than words can describe and it’s like a huge long-standing burden has been lifted off his chest. He smiles at that, content and immensely thankful, and he makes sure Jongin knows that.
It is finally wholeheartedly peaceful between them again and Taemin still desires to seek a little reassurance that everything’s okay between them again. He’s about to try as he raises his hand, but instead, Jongin gently takes Taemin’s hand to lace their fingers together, finger by finger. A warmth starts to spread within him at it and also at Jongin’s warm smile, and his smile brightens up another notch. He’s finally at ease and he squeezes Jongin’s hand (which Jongin squeezes back).
To the two hunters who fumble and mumble and lose their eloquence regarding matters of the heart, who’ve built the base of their friendship off of shared silences and weighted glances, they seek solace in each other’s affection in their actions - in the little touches and the meaningful gestures. It’s the way they communicate without having to use words and it’s something only the two of them share between them.
In response to that, Taemin presses a soft kiss on their entwined hands and he slowly runs their hands beneath Jongin shirt, brushing up warm skin and past the spot where he knows a scar has been carved on Jongin’s side from front to back. It is a sad, guilty memory; one he’ll burn into his brain if he has to.
“Good,” Taemin says, and Jongin grips his hand a little tighter.
In the fall of 2008, for all their greed and heedless hastiness, they had rushed headfirst into a battle that wasn’t in their odds to win. To the demon who’d reigned ferociously all by its lonesome, tall and imposing, they were nothing but harmless toys to its mindless boredom and idle spirit.
As they escaped - battered, beaten down, and barely clutching onto their lives - Jongin also left with a large gaping wound on his side and the ludicrous notion that he was dying slipping past pale lips. Desperately alone with an unconscious Jongin by his side, Taemin dragged his only best friend, his only partner, and his only family through the woods and under the heavy downpour in hopes of reaching salvation and safety. Although that was only half a day later, it had felt like an entire lifetime.
Taemin was 15, and Jongin was 14.
Jongin was left to heal.
Taemin left him to hunt and train.
No matter what, Taemin would never let himself forget: Jongin nearly died shielding him from harm.
It is cool and the breeze feels chilled to the touch against his heated skin. Blending into the background he hears the whirring sound of a device hard at work, but he easily ignores it in favour of enjoying the coolness it brings. He hasn’t used an electric fan (or even properly seen one) ever since he was a kid and he plans to revel in the sensation while he still can - before their mission can beckon them back into the humidity and the heat that the sun has so often generously provided them with.
“Soojeong,” he calls out and she looks up at him from beside him. They are sitting side-by-side, both appreciating the fan’s best efforts as it oscillates between the two of them, from left to right, from right to left in a hypnotic fashion. “Will you be happy if I stop by to visit every now and then?” Because needless to say, she’ll most likely be happy if Jongin drops by.
She nods - oh, thank goodness - and she goes back to making the robot sounds she’s been teaching him with the fan.
At that, he smiles. It seems that ever since that day, she’s been uttering a few more words and getting just a little more animated each day. Although they’re not enough to make conversations, it’s enough to know that she’s possibly feeling better. If she’s not comfortable with using her words yet, Taemin doesn’t mind the companionable silence. He thinks he understand her enough for her meaningful looks and gestures to get through to him.
“We’ll be going real off soon,” he tells her. “To fight that bad demon. So take good care of yourself, all right?”
She turns to look at him and it seems like she’s looking regretful. Or sad. Even the red bow on her hair looks a little droopy.
“We will visit. I just don’t know when that’ll be,” he continues. “But when we do, I’m gonna teach you some things, alright?”
Instead of the excitement he expects, she nods slowly, forlorn, while biting her lower lip. When she stands up, she circles her arms around Taemin’s neck and he nearly falls down from the impact of her hug with a startled laugh. They lay on the ground together, with her on top of him and her arms still circling him, and he pats her back softly. As she starts whining softly beside his ear, he thinks he feels his heart aching because of her. He’s sure he was hardier than this before.
“What is it?” he asks kindly.
She stands up again and she runs off, leaving Taemin feeling somewhat abandoned in front of the fan. He plays with his robot voice by himself instead - which he admits must be a sad sight - because he knows that Jongin is busy playing with his own group of kids. When Soojeong returns, she does so with red puffy cheeks, a bouncing red bow, and a hand clutching onto some pieces of paper.
“F-for you,” she says, panting and shyly handing over sheets of paper. He’s surprised their settlement even has blank paper to spare after all the years, but he’s even more touched by her gesture. “And handsome older brother.” He smiles.
“Aren’t I handsome too?”
“You’re pretty.”
“I-,” he stops, speechless, and he laughs in stunned surprise. “Thanks, Soojeong,” he thanks her sincerely. If he could kidnap her and keep her in his pocket, he truly would. As he keeps the papers nice and flat and hopefully unrumpled on his lap, he sits her down beside him so that they can enjoy the fan once again.
When he finally looks through the papers, he halts in his steps.
Before they leave for their mission, he leaves behind Jongin’s throwing knife on Soojeong’s bed, the one left forgotten in the arachnid-like demon which Taemin had conveniently forgotten to return, even if it isn’t technically his to give. A talisman of protection, perhaps. And a promise.
In a small note beside the knife, he writes (with a little outside help), ‘Your life is how you make of it. You are the creator of your own destiny. Don’t let them win. I know you can do this, Soojeong.’
“So, it’s just the two of us again.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to miss those kids?”
A pause. “I think I missed you even more.”
A slow smile. “I missed you too.”
He has a dream that night.
It starts out in fond memory: a bright sketch of laughter and contentment, of domesticity and cheerful mundanity in an ordinary life - free from demons and devoid of undeserving massacres. Although it is a picture that should strike him as odd, almost ethereal even, he’s much too immersed and enamoured by it to notice. For the life that he’s been living - filled with blood, guts, sweat, sheer determination, and an underlying thread of sorrow - this one is much brighter and full of life, with Jongin and his family members by his side.
It is a chilly morning, early enough to feel the morning dew set in yet also cold enough to freeze him right down to his bones. He and Jongin are making their way towards their first planned destination near the river mouth and he can’t stop his brain from running ahead of him no matter how hard he tries. It seems that the more he tries not to, the more his mind decides to harp on it and it is endlessly frustrating. It’s not like him to be this hesitant but he can’t help the glances that he casts towards Jongin.
“-strength over its agility,” he half hears Jongin say, but the words are not registering with him enough for him to provide a passable response.
“What?” Taemin asks for probably the third time. He sounds distracted; he can even hear it in his own voice but he can’t seem to help it. He has to try listening better next time.
Jongin sighs. “It’s nothing,” he says as he folds back their map. It’s still too dark to see the details clearly, but Jongin has been spending a lot of time on the map back in the settlement. Probably enough to have it partially memorised. “You’ve been a little off lately.”
“I-,” Taemin starts, and he thinks that he really should stop wavering. It has been plaguing his mind for the past few days and it is something that Jongin has to know. It is an important detail; important enough to be classified as a life and death situation, a detail which could also be beneficial to them and their lives or deaths. Yet, his mouth can’t seem to budge. “I hav-,” he tries, but. But. “Nothing. Never mind. It’s nothing.”
He’s not strong enough yet.
Within the handful of papers that Soojeong has given him, there is one particular sheet that differs greatly from the rest. For all his efforts trying to convince her to help them (but also doing so safely within her own limits), she has drawn them a picture of their demon. Whenever he looks at the picture, it doesn’t fail to summon the unpleasant memories each time.
Blue eyes.
Brown skin.
Giant horns twisted like a devil’s.
A tail resembling a bouquet of daggers.
He lists off its features in his head as monotonously as he recites his nightly ritual with Jongin. It is eerily in its resemblance and it can’t possibly be more than a mere coincidence.
In the picture that Soojeong has drawn them, he sees a demon with a combination of traits Taemin’s and Jongin’s demons respectively have; the demons whom they’d sworn to hunt down. In a cruel twist of fate, it also happens to be one they had fought those years ago. 8 years, to be exact.
More than words can say, that honestly scares Taemin.
“What are you so afraid of?”
“Nothing.” He tries to convince himself.
“Liar.”
Silence.
“Come on. What are you really afraid of?”
“Losing everything.” He can’t help but finally admit.
Even the strongest person has their moments of apprehension, and Taemin is merely busy trying to battle his. He’s trying to give himself some time. He’s not ignorant; he knows that hiding it will cause nothing but harm.
“Jongin?” he calls out in the middle of the night.
“Mmm?” Jongin barely sounds awake.
“I’m gonna do it. I’m getting there.”
Silence. “Yeah.” Jongin sounds proud, even if he has no context to be. “I know you can.”
He wonders if Jongin even knows what he’s talking about.
“What are these?” Jongin asks as he flings the papers on the ground towards Taemin. It’s a display of hostile and thinly-veiled anger and he starts ruffling through the papers in front of Taemin to show him just what exactly has been hidden from his best friend. “Have you been hiding this from me?” Jongin says with furrowed brows.
The anger then soon morphs into deep disappointment and then painful vulnerability and Jongin looks like he’s trying to think back on their recent days together just to recall if he’d done something wrong to deserve this, anything at all, when he obviously didn’t. No, that’s all on Taemin and that’s how he’s been expecting to be discovered, but it doesn’t happen. Not at all.
Instead, it eats him on the inside and Jongin remains blissfully oblivious.
He finally does it five days later. It’s not in the way that he expects himself to, but he does it with Jongin’s help.
It is a rainy night and the rhythmic thrums surround them amidst the hollowed darkness of their dwelling place. The breeze sweeps past them airily and even though he appreciates the relief of the cold, he can’t seem to lull himself to sleep - his thoughts lock him away from slumber and his memories ghost the edges of his consciousness.
“Jongin,” he calls out but he doesn’t receive a reply in response. Silence echoes back to him and somehow, for what he plans to say, that fact comforts him. Maybe it’s a good thing, but maybe it’s also a bad thing. To the thoughts that clutter his head noisily, he wants to seek some calm and relief, and Jongin is the only one in his mind he can think of to help - regardless, Jongin is always the only one in his mind - but he doesn’t want his best friend to be awake for this one.
“Jongin?” he tries once more, and again, silence ensures. Taemin reckons Jongin’s already traversing through dreamland and he decides to take his chance.
“I hate the rain,” he admits to the silence and to the rain, to a sleeping Jongin but also to himself. It’s a fact he knows Jongin’s already aware of but he finally allows himself to acknowledge it. He’s taking it step-by-step, slowly trying to work his way up. In the years that they’ve been resolving their grief through strenuous sparring and combat, they’ve rarely used anything more than their bodies. Words and emotions have never been his speciality, but he’s trying, at least.
“I hate that they’re no longer around,” he says, almost as if he’s reading off a checklist of things he plans to confess.
He hopes his words get lost in the loud patters of the rain, but he also wishes that they’ll get through to Jongin in his sleep somehow, wafting with him in the subconscious.
“I hate those demons,” he says again. “But I’m starting to think that I’ll never be strong enough to defeat all of them.” He picks at his shirt.
“I don’t think that I’m strong anyhow,” he continues. “You’d think that 16 years would’ve done something to help out with that, but it feels like I’m back to square one most of the time. Rainy days especially.” He laughs at himself self-deprecatingly. “Is it me or does everything bad happen on rainy days?”
“I-” He starts and then he stops with a sigh. He has nothing but frustration for himself. “I have something to tell you.” He thinks his hands might be shaking but he can’t be entirely sure. “I’m sorry that I didn’t mention it to you earlier, but I needed more time to think and there were some things holding me back. I told you I was getting there, remember.”
Tell him. Tell him, the voice in his head whispers.
“I-”
There is silence, and then-
“What is it?” A soft voice breathes out and Taemin’s heart just about stops. The realisation that Jongin might’ve been awake the whole time stuns him still. He hears a ruffle from Jongin’s direction and he feels the fear and the anticipation slowly creeping up to take over him.
“The demon we’re hunting down.” He stops, hesitant. “It’s the one from 8 years back. Horns. Dagger tail. Blue eyes. Brown skin.”
Taemin expects Jongin to jump out in surprise or in anger, but nothing happens. It’s almost as if he’d imagined Jongin’s voice. Maybe he actually did, because Jongin doesn’t respond that. He doesn’t even move from where he’s laying and nothing but the rain and his own breaths accompanies Taemin.
“Why’s that?” Jongin finally asks.
Taemin hangs his head at that. “I was afraid,” he says. Somehow, the fact that he’s not able to see Jongin or his reaction makes it easier to admit the truth.
“Of what?”
Taemin flinches.
“Of you,” he says almost immediately.
He inhales and he exhales. He thinks he might rub through a hole in his shirt with the amount of mistreatment he’s giving it but there’s nothing much around him to expand his energy on.
“Alright,” Jongin says, even though Taemin’s answer shouldn’t make sense to him. Instead, he readily accepts it.
“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Taemin continues, as if he feels a need to justify himself. Maybe he does. “We’ve been strategising how to defeat that stupid face for years. We’ve defeated more powerful demons than it, but, you know...” He shrugs. He always manages to think of the worst case scenario.
“Because of this?” Jongin asks and Taemin feels Jongin sitting up before reaching out for him. As he grabs Taemin’s hand, he clumsily guides Taemin’s hand up his warm torso, towards his long jagged scar, and it’s an agonisingly slow moment.
“Yes,” Taemin breathes, and just the feel of it brings a pang to his chest.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t,” Jongin says, his voice a stern hard tone. “I was the rash one who got himself injured, so I know for a fact that it wasn’t your fault.”
“You might’ve knocked your head. You got some of the details muddled.”
Jongin sighs, exasperated and perhaps a little resigned. “You said you were afraid of me.” He pulls out their hands out to rest them on his lap but he doesn’t let go. He grips Taemin’s hand tighter instead. “Well, that was me afraid of you.”
The darkness surrounds them but he wants to see Jongin’s face - his reactions, his kind eyes, his consoling smile.
“You could’ve died, just like them,” Taemin tries to argue, although Jongin is slowly draining the fight out of him.
“So could you.”
“I left you when you were injured and recovering.”
“I know. I was there.”
"I didn’t want to,” Taemin admits. “But I had to become stronger.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you hate me for it?”
“It would’ve been easy if I hadn’t known you for that long. But I know you more than you know yourself and I know it only was what you thought you had to do,” Jongin says, probably shrugging as he does so. “It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt because it did, for a long time, but all I’m saying is that I understand why you had to do it and that I’ve never hated you for it. You came back.”
The guilt comes rushing back and it doesn’t cease to make it feel like his stomach is being crushed.
“Stop being so agreeable and understanding about everything,” Taemin demands and Jongin laughs.
“Then continue making it up to me for the rest of your life,” Jongin demands in return.
Taemin’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” he says.
“Don’t be cheesy about it either. Or be overly agreeable that it’s out-of-character for you.”
“Fine,” Taemin huffs.
“Good.”
“I-” Taemin sighs as he stops. There are still some things that he needs to clarify; it’ll niggle him if he doesn’t. “Earlier when I said I was afraid of you, I… didn’t mean you, per se.”
He hears Jongin’s breathing. “I know. I guessed as much.”
“It’s just… everything I’m afraid of connects back to you,” Taemin admits. Just having said that is revealing enough for him; he hopes Jongin is able to read the subtext within because he doesn’t want to elaborate any more than he has to. It’s embarrassing as it is.
“I know,” Jongin says and Taemin feels a warmth brushing his cheek lightly - Jongin’s hand. “I’m the same. You should know that. At least by now you should know that.”
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“Oh? You doubt me?”
Jongin snorts. “You do have your moments, sometimes.”
Taemin shoves him for that and Jongin laughs. “You’re hardly an exception either.”
“True,” Jongin agrees. He then releases Taemin’s hand and starts to restlessly draw circles on his palm. He sighs, as if the world’s weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Then I guess there are some things for me to confess.”
“Okay,” Taemin says, a little confused.
“I hate the rain and I hate the demons. I also hate that they died.”
“Okay.”
“You’re the only family I want built.”
“Okay.”
Jongin lifts up their linked hands and Taemin feels a soft press of lips on his palm before Jongin lets go. “I don’t want a kid or a random someone else. I won’t leave you behind and I won’t die. Not like them.”
Taemin releases a shaky breath. “Okay,” he breathes.
“And can I be so bold as to assume certain non-platonic non-familial things from what you’ve said?”
It makes him smile. “Yes.” And his skin buzz with anticipation.
“So.” Jongin starts and then he stops. Taemin hears him taking a deep breath. “So what do you think about what I’ve said?” He sounds nervous.
“I think…” Taemin starts to say but there are many things that he wants to do rather than say aloud. His heart pounds and even though it feels like it might beat out of his chest and his palms turn sweaty out of pure restlessness, he decides to go for it anyway. “…it’s good. I think-”
Using his hands as a guide, he leans forward as he roughly feels for Jongin’s face. Fingertips brushing across his features in the stark darkness, Taemin cups Jongin’s face and he slowly fits their lips together. Jongin doesn’t take a moment to hesitate and he licks into his mouth as Taemin smiles into their kiss.
It’s a sweet feeling, he thinks. Like a thrill that runs up his spine and a lightness that floats up his chest; contrary yet complementary in a way that frees him of all his shackles. They kiss and it continues as long as they let it, tender and soft and slightly cautious and new; like a new adventure and a pleasant memory to overwrite the unpleasant rainy ones.
Taemin finally pulls away with a soft nip to Jongin’s lower lip and Jongin protests with a sigh and a groan.
“I think… this,” Taemins says as he beams, their faces close enough to feel each other’s ghosting breaths. Jongin slides Taemin’s hand down to let him feel how much Jongin’s smiling and Taemin playfully digs his thumbs into Jongin’s cheeks (without any protest) to stretch the smile even bigger.
“You should think that more often,” Jongin says and Taemin laughs.
“Okay,” Taemin agrees.
They have their nightly ritual.
“Blue eyes,” Jongin begins by saying.
“Red eyes,” Taemin continues.
“Red skin.”
“Brown skin.”
“Giant twisted horns like a devil.”
“Rows of teeth as piercing as sharpened blades.”
“Brutal strength.”
“Scythe-like arms.”
“Lightening reflexes.”
“Spine-chilling wails.”
And they go on until it’s finally done.
“How are you feeling?” Jongin asks him and he links their hands together.
“I’m good, I think,” Taemin says.
“Are you ready to face it?”
Taemin takes a deep breath. “Yes.” He smiles. “I think I am.”