Archive of Our Own

After the fiftieth time of sitting on a closed toilet lid with shaking hands and uneven breathing, nauseous from an upcoming presentation he has to give, Jisung decides to take his health seriously. He quits his office job. 

Unemployment limbo takes him back to his old night owl college habits. Staying awake until five in the morning, sleeping until noon. The month is filled with uncertainty and dread, but it’s a different flavor compared to the social anxiety he was plagued by before, so he welcomes it with open arms.

Jisung gets into the habit of taking walks at three in the morning, after everyone goes to sleep but before they rise for their day jobs. In one of his random Wikipedia deep dives, he finds out that in some cultures this is dubbed the “witching hour”. He wonders if that’s why Seoul, a bustling, loud city in the day, seems empty during that time. It makes sense, if he considers that it isn’t empty. Just that the usual residents have turned see-through, invisible to his naked eyes. 

When he tells Felix—his college friend who returned to Sydney after graduating and the only person Jisung stayed in touch online with—about these thoughts, he’s told to be careful. Jisung knew Felix was religious, but he didn’t take him as superstitious alongside that. Then again, he also didn’t consider himself superstitious, and yet, now, whenever he sits at his usual bench at the local park during his walks, he bows and announces that he’s taking a seat. Just in case.

Still, Jisung assured Felix that there was nothing to worry about. That the city was peaceful at night.

The witching hour never makes Jisung anxious. It’s void of other people, and with that, void of most of Jisung’s worries. 

The moon keeps him company. They can’t talk nor touch, but it watches him silently, its soft glow turning the empty streets into a delicate movie-like scene. During that time he can finally think.

He wears chunky headphones on those walks. They’re high quality, gifted to him by Felix for his birthday a few months ago, who had picked them out with his new producer boyfriend. 

Something inside Jisung shifted when he tried them on for the first time. It was like the first time he’d worn his glasses. He’d never thought his vision could be that clear. There was so much more to discover in songs that he’d known, and it had sparked a curiosity inside him that he thought was lost in the many years of meetings and writing emails. 

Right after, he bought an acoustic guitar off of an online marketplace. They sold him a humble keyboard, too, though that stayed unused to this day. His phone’s notes app started filling up with clumsy prose, words he found pretty, and Wikipedia entries for future reference. 

He likes to think that this passion is what gave him the push to actually quit his job. He found something he wanted to do, for the first time in his twenty six years of living. He knew that pursuing a career in music was like searching for the stars while the brightness of Seoul’s intense light pollution hid them. Still, he goes on his witching hour walks to his favourite bench at the park, and squints stubbornly at the night sky until he catches a glimpse.

It will take years for his music to be considered good. And that, Jisung doesn’t mind. He wants to invest time in it. 

But money is the problem. Shelter and food is the problem. 

The dread ferments in his stomach over weeks. It makes him sick with worry, unable to eat, unable to pluck the strings of his guitar. Felix’s voice is one message away, but his hugs are five thousand one hundred and seventy one miles distant. 

So Jisung goes on his walk, seeking the presence of his celestial companions. 

That’s when he spots it. A brightly lit, one-story convenience store, a little further out from residential buildings. 

Jisung bows to the sky in gratitude. The moon continues smiling at him. 

Working the night shift at a convenience store isn’t for everyone, but it’s perfect for Jisung. He works part-time four nights a week and earns enough money to make a living. His crisp white shirts and black ties are collecting dust in his closet, replaced by cozy, thrifted pieces he wears proudly under the dark blue store vest that holds his name tag.

He even stops berating himself for his unusual sleeping schedule. Now he has an excuse for it if Felix or anyone else that’s well meaning asks.  

Only the first few hours of work are filled with labor. Jisung stocks or rearranges the shelves and serves the few customers that come to visit. He smiles at them, holds eye contact for two seconds, then rings them up and wishes them a good day. 

After the first two weeks, the routine sticks. The work is predictable and the social interactions are minimal, giving him loads of alone time. When the witching hour strikes, rarely any customers visit. Everything turns quiet, the hum of the bright white ceiling lights stark in the silence. Sometimes he prolongs his walks home to watch the sunrise.

He buys himself a little laptop second hand. During the last few hours of his shift, he sits behind the register with a random anime or movie to keep him company. He also invests in good speakers, using them to watch his shows or play music after he gets an okay from his manager. 

Overall, working the night shift at the convenience store does him good. When he wakes up around noon after a job well done, he has enough energy to put his all into music, strumming away at his guitar day to day. His progress would go quicker if he could afford lessons or a tutor, but he tries not to dwell on things he can’t change. 

His new lifestyle may not be luxurious to most onlookers, but it’s good to him. Jisung has a dream that he wants to pursue, and when time slows down during the night, his mind and heart rate slows with it. What more could he want?

It’s been so long since he had an anxiety attack. So long, that when he hears the chime of the door and looks up, his body doesn’t react like it should.

“Welcome,” he says on autopilot.

“Hi hi,” says the man entering the store, putting a hand up in a casual greeting, before making a beeline for the snack aisle.

His whole body is covered in blood.

The man crouches down and grabs a snack. He puts a hand on his hip and makes soft grunting noises when he stands back up again. 

Blood drips onto the floor from his zipped up jacket’s soaked sleeve, once navy blue. His left leg got the worst of it, light grey sweatpants and Air Force 1s looking like he took a dip in a pool of red dye. That will be annoying, maybe impossible to wash out.

He sets seaweed chips on the counter.

“Will that be all?” Jisung says, watching the blood on the man's fingers drip and smear across the bag. Muscle memory makes him take the snack to scan, bloodying his own hands in the process.

“That’s all,” the man says. 

“Your total is two thousand won.” Jisung looks up to make his usual two seconds of eye contact. The coworker that trained him told him that he didn’t have to be overly cheery, but some customer connection would be necessary.

The man is wearing a black mask. His high cheekbones bring a sharp edge to his features that doesn't match his light voice, but does match the blood dripping from his backwards cap to his straight eyebrows. He brings a hand up to wipe away the drop with his already dirty finger. It smears more red across his forehead, but it does make it stop trailing down his face further. He’s frowning—or rather, squinting. If not from the blood, then it must be from the bright store lights.

When their eyes meet, a shiver runs down Jisung’s spine. The man blinks twice and tilts his head, gaze dropping to Jisung’s chest.

“Would you like a bag with that?” Jisung asks.

“No thank you, I’m good.” The man leans in, squinting further, another drop of blood falling on the counter. He reads Jisung’s name tag. “You’re new here.” 

Jisung takes the money that he’s handed and returns the change. “I started a few weeks ago.” 

The man hums in acknowledgement. He takes his snack and rips it open, pulling down his mask to reveal a straight nose and plush lips. He pops a few chips in his mouth, feline eyes roaming over Jisung’s face. 

“I see,” he says with a full mouth, giving a little bow. “I like your earrings, Jisung-ssi.”

“Thank you. I got them for cheap during a clearance sale years ago but they didn’t like men wearing jewellery at my old job.”

“Is that why you work here now?”

“And other reasons. But yeah.”

“Cool. Then I’ll see you around, Jisung-ssi.”

“Have a good day.”

The bell chimes with his exit, and Jisung returns to his body. His shaking hands are covered in blood, his pulse high, and there are red footsteps leading in and out of the store. 

Without anything better to do, he opens the storage closet and takes out a bucket and a mop, cleaning up all the blood as he tries to get his breathing under control. 

What else is he supposed to do? Call the cops on a guy who definitely had someone else’s blood on him, and now knows his face and name and where he works?

Yes, a little part of his brain screams at him while he watches the sun rise on his walk home. Another part of his brain makes him cringe, embarrassed at infodumping about himself to a handsome stranger. 

He stands under his shower and lets warm water run down the back of his head. 

He doesn’t want to quit his job. He finally has a goal to work towards and working hours which suit his unusual lifestyle. One encounter with a handsome murderer can’t destroy all he’s built. Who knows, maybe he’ll get caught by the police the next morning and Jisung will never have to see him again.

The next day, on the witching hour, the man returns.

“Yaho,” the man greets, one hand raised in Jisung’s direction, gaze focused on the snack aisle. He’s wearing a light grey zip up hoodie with the hood pulled up and another black facemask. His light wash jeans and his white Air Force 1s are pristine.

Why does he have two pairs of the same shoes?

“Hello,” Jisung says a little late. He gulps and goes through his practiced motions. 

When he hands the change and the snack to him, the man doesn’t take it. When he dares to glance up at him, he notices the man staring at his hand.

The man points at the tattoo circling Jisung’s wrist like a bracelet. “What’s that from?” 

“It’s Star Children,” Jisung answers meekly, like there’s a gun being pointed at his head. Which there might as well be. “From Howl’s Moving Castle. I grew up with Ghibli movies so I knew that I wanted a tattoo based on their art one day. I don’t know why I chose my wrist though. I fainted from the pain.”

His heartbeat threatens to overtake the speed of his nervous mouth. He wishes he could shut up, but he either has to talk through his panic or run away. And something tells him he’ll regret running.

“Ohh,” the man nods in interest, or annoyance—Jisung can’t tell. His eyebrows are still furrowed, half his face still covered by the mask, most of his eyes covered by his fluffy dark brown hair. “I also like Ghibli movies.”

Jisung nods and an awkward silence fills the space between them.

“Well then,” the man says and turns to leave. “See you.”

“Wait–” Jisung says before his brain can stop him. The man turns back to him, a spicy prawn cracker poking out of his mouth. “I uh–What’s your name?”

It only makes sense to ask. He’s been watching the news closely, but no murders have been reported anywhere in the city. With a name he would have something specific to look for.

“It’s Lee Minho,” Minho says. “Born in 98.”

Jisung bows. “Han Jisung–” He stutters, remembering Minho already knows his name. “I’m 00.”

“Ah, okay, then you can call me hyung.”

“Alright hyung. Have a good day.”

Later when he arrives home, he sits with his knees pulled towards his chest under the shower and wonders what’s wrong with him. He never does more than small talk with any of the other customers. What the hell is he thinking by making acquaintances with the one that’s a murderer?

Nothing comes up when he searches for his name. 

The variety of what Jisung’s brain can handle is funny. A presentation in front of a group of not even ten people, most of whom are his coworkers? He’d rather die. Going back to his job where a handsome murderer is likely to come back again? Yeah. Why not. 

With enough sleep, and enough hours keeping his hands busy by practicing guitar, he can handle it. As long as he doesn’t see Minho do any active killing. He hopes to never bear witness to just what kind of carnage could have covered his whole body in blood like that. 

He meets Minho again.

“I rewatched Howl’s Moving Castle yesterday,” Minho says, handing Jisung two granola bars. “I forgot how fun it is.”

“It’s been a while for me too,” Jisung says, ringing him up. “I’d rewatch it but I’m busy binging anime.”

Minho leans forward on the counter, making Jisung take a step away. Jisung can’t tell where he’s looking from the shadow of his cap and his mask covering most of his face, but he turns his head in the direction of Jisung’s open laptop.

“One Piece,” he says in recognition, leaning his face on his hand, relaxing against the counter. “What do you think about it?”

His eyes peek out of the darkness at Jisung, and Jisung fiddles with the rings on his fingers while he monologues about his One Piece watching experience. Nonstop. A familiar heat rises to his cheeks, and halfway through he starts stuttering, but can’t stop. Just a constant stream of his way too detailed opinions.

Minho hums and nods along nonchalantly. As Jisung finally concludes his speech, he straightens himself.

“Maybe I’ll start it,” Minho says. “Lately I’ve been watching a lot of horror movies. Do you like them?”

“I like them in theory. But I can’t watch them on my own, I get too scared.”

Minho tilts his head. “We could watch some together.”

Jisung chokes on his spit before clearing his throat for an embarrassingly long time, switching between blinking at Minho and looking back down at the register.

“Ah.” Minho giggles, a light airy sound. “Was that too forward?”

Jisung stands rooted in place, dumbfounded by Minho’s suggestion. Is that how he murders people? He lures them in with his siren voice, takes them back to his place, and then kills them and bathes in their blood?

“Relax,” Minho says, reading his panic as him being flustered. Maybe he’s both. “I think you’re cute, Jisungie. I’d like to take you out sometime.”

On a date. Right?

“But I can wait until we’re more comfortable,” Minho continues. He grabs the granola bar and pulls down his mask, ripping open the packaging and biting into the bar with his bunny teeth.

Jisung can’t look away. A small smile forms on Minho’s lips when he licks chocolate from them, teasingly. Jisung drops his gaze to the counter and hears Minho giggle again as he starts leaving.

One of the granola bars is still on the counter.

“Ah, wait–” Jisung calls just when the door chimes, picking it up. “Your snack!”

Minho waves at him. “That one’s for you, silly. See you tomorrow.”

On the way home Jisung eats the granola bar and stares up at the grinning moon, pondering if he should tell Felix about this. If he were to get murdered, it wouldn’t be smart to involve Felix. It wouldn’t be fair to involve him in a murder case, when he’s not even in the country.

Besides, the sweet flavor in his mouth whispers to him that maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Minho likes horror movies. Maybe the blood that he was covered in was fake. He could have been filming something, or it could have been a prank by his friends. It would explain his casual attitude about it and how he didn’t feel the need to explain himself. As well as how his shoes washed out perfectly after just a day. 

The internet says fake blood washes out easier than real blood, as long as it didn’t dry. 

Plus, Jisung doesn’t remember the blood’s smell. Fake blood is supposed to smell sugary, or weirdly edible, apparently. Maybe he was too shocked while looking at Minho to take it all in. Maybe the harshness of the cleaning supplies overpowered the sweet scent. If it would have smelled strongly metallic, surely his nose would have revolted.

Right?

Right.

It would make perfect sense, he thinks to himself while he rewatches Howl’s Moving Castle on his phone in bed, blinds shut to keep out the morning sun. Maybe he needlessly freaked out. He’s too shy to ask Minho about it in case he, you know, murders him. Or worse: Makes fun of him.

But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to accept Minho’s advances. 

He kicks his feet when he remembers Minho calling him cute. He even paid for his snack. When was the last time Jisung went on a date? He can’t remember, but it’s definitely been ages with his last job sucking all the energy out of him. He had to spend any free time he'd found recharging, cocooned in his bed and mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

It would do him good to connect with someone again, even if it was just temporary. He’s lost contact with most of his friends since his college days, and the coworkers that he had since weren’t really friend material. He’s already out of practice when it comes to conversations, cringing again when he remembers how awkward and robotic he was in his interactions with Minho.

But now he can afford to put in some effort, now that his chest isn’t tight with worries about his job. It feels good to worry about other things for once.

When he wakes up, he takes his time to shave thoroughly. He managed to return to taking care of his personal hygiene once he got hired at the store, but he hasn't shaved since he left his old job. 

He used to love the ritual of shaving. Waking up early and putting a blade to his face made him feel proud and ready to take on the day with vigour. Right up until it became a necessity rather than something he did because he cherished himself.

He can learn to love it again. Just like he learned to read webtoons again, to watch anime again, and now even to watch movies again. He can learn to smile at his clean shaved face, and not have his pulse quicken with dread. 

He slaps his face lightly and grins at himself in the mirror.

“You shaved,” Minho greets him later that day, putting a soda on the counter, together with a package of cat treats. “You look good, your glasses are cute.”

Jisung didn’t think that that’s what Minho would compliment. He’s wearing another pair of dangly earrings, little heart shapes rather than daggers. He’d even fished out his Nana necklace, a silver little locket with an R engraved in it, hoping Minho would recognize it.

“Thank you,” he says anyway, adjusting his browline glasses shyly. He’s even rustier when it comes to flirting than being flirted with, but he wants Minho to know that he’s interested. He licks his lips to say the words that he practiced in the mirror this morning. “You, uh, you look good too. It’s a shame that you hide your face.”

Smooth. Jisung resists facepalming with all he has. Luckily Minho breaks into a laugh, taken aback by Jisung’s compliment.

Minho pulls the mask off his face and removes the cap, stuffing them in his jacket pockets. He shakes his head to adjust his bangs and runs a hand through them, pushing them back. They fall nicely to frame his eyes and cheekbones.

“Better now?” He asks, winking at Jisung with both his eyes, a playful grin on his lips. 

Jisung returns the smile and rings him up. “Way better. You almost look friendly.”

Minho gasps in offense, his face returning to a frown, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That–” Jisung giggles when he points at his face. “Combined with this–” He gestures vaguely to Minho’s clothes, dark jacket with dark sweats, dark boots too. “It makes you look a little intimidating, Minho-hyung.”

“Yah, I can’t help the way my face looks.”

“I didn’t say it’s bad.” A blush rises to Jisung’s face. Minho cocks a brow at him and his smile turns sharp, something that tells Jisung he’s about to flirt. Jisung decides to cut him off in order to keep his composure for a little longer. “I know you’re probably frowning because of the lights. I checked if I can dim them, but they’re not adjustable. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, they have these lights all over the studio I work at. I’m used to dealing with them.” Minho shrugs, paying for his stuff and pocketing it. “They’re just annoying, is all.”

“You work a night shift at a studio?”

“When did I say it’s a night shift?”

“Well, you didn’t, but...” The analog clock at the wall that Jisung keeps telling himself he will learn how to read quicker says it’s like three something. “Why would you be awake around this time otherwise?”

Minho winks again, slightly more skillful this time. “To have some alone time with you.”

It’s corny and syrupy sweet, and it makes Jisung cover his hot face with his palms. He’s sure Minho can tell by his high school girl reaction that he hasn’t been flirted with for a while. 

He doesn’t consider himself easy, but he can’t resist the sweet advances of a handsome man with a killer smile. It makes him want to forget all about how he thought that he’s actually a killer. 

Over his long weekend he giggles and kicks his feet thinking about Minho, and decides to tell Felix about him without any worry or dread. Felix matches his energy and says he’s happy for him, and that he hasn’t seen Jisung this excited in a while.

Jisung plans to take it slow with Minho. He isn’t used to going at any other speed, always needing a while to warm up to people even if he’s very interested in them. When he returns to his shift the next week, he decides to take initiative to show Minho that he wants to get to know him.

The lights inside the store can’t be adjusted, but outside there’s a little sitting area which is usually still closed during these few weeks before spring. He lounges outside at that table and chairs that he prepared for the witching hour, with two prawn chips packages—one of them spicy—and two sodas set up.

He tries to act casual about it, but when he catches sight of Minho—his relaxed gait turning into eager little hops coming towards Jisung—all the nerves catch up to him and turn him stiff.

“Hi Jisungie,” Minho says. He pulls his mask down and pockets it and his beanie, then blinks down at the snacks that he’s been buying. He smiles at Jisung with the same gentleness as the waning moon behind him. “Is that for me?”

“It’s for us,” Jisung croaks, vaguely gesturing at the posters he hung up on the inside of the glass wall that hides the space that they’re sitting at from the bright white lights from inside the store. “I wanted to make it cozy for us. I almost lit a candle too but then I got really embarrassed.”

Minho takes his seat opposite of Jisung and leans his face in his hand, grabbing one can with his other and popping it open one handed. “You’re really cute, Jisung-ah. I thought I’d be the only one doing the courting.”

Jisung puffs his chest out a little. “I can do my part.”

“It’s fine either way,” Minho says, taking a sip and nudging Jisung’s foot under the table. “I do like being in charge.”

“Okay–” Jisung hides in his palms again, embarrassed from his voice cracking. He presses his legs together when Minho’s foot trails up his calf, tapping him while Minho giggles. “That’s good to know.”

With a response like that, he’s sure he doesn’t have to clarify that he wouldn’t mind Minho taking charge. 

“Why do you work a night shift?” Minho asks, keeping his foot pressed to Jisung’s calf.

Jisung tries to relax against it, shuffling his feet on the ground and opening his snack to try to act casual about it. “My sleeping schedule was always weird. It was something that I tried to fix while I was working my old office job–”

“The one that doesn’t like earrings on men?”

“Yeah. They also didn’t like me wearing my over-ear headphones. It made my hair look unprofessional. I also had to hide all my tattoos constantly.”

Minho perks up at that, glancing at Jisung’s chest like he can see through his clothes with sheer will. “You have more than the one?”

“Yah,” Jisung giggles, folding his arms, protecting himself from his intense stare. “Let me return to the original question.” And then, because Minho looks so sweet with a pout, he adds, “You’ll get to see them eventually.”

Minho takes another sip. If they weren’t sitting in a spot specifically darkened for their little impromptu rendezvous, Jisung thinks his face would be red. 

“So, my office job was never a good fit,” he continues. “Aside from everything I’ve told you already, I also have severe social anxiety.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Did you intend that to be sarcastic?”

“No. I tried acting surprised.”

Jisung places a hand on his heart. “That’s so sweet, I’ll try to act surprised when you tell me you’re autistic.”

Minho bursts into a fit of giggles, and Jisung is so taken aback at making him laugh so hard that he just folds his hands in his lap and watches Minho eagerly. Minho’s airy tone makes him sound maniacal and a little all over the place, loud voice echoing through the night. He looks like he’s trying to stop but can’t, taken by surprise and maybe a little embarrassed by it. It’s sickeningly sweet, and Jisung is soon caught in the whirlwind giggling alongside him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Minho says when he calms down. “Usually no one clocks me that quick.”

“Me neither. Back then my team kept pushing me into holding presentations every week, saying how good I was at those.”

“And you kept doing them.”

“I was never good at standing up for myself.”

“Ah. You have a nice voice, Jisungie.”

Minho’s voice is much prettier. Gentle, made to sing lullabies, made to praise Jisung and call him pet names. 

Jisung accepts the compliment with a nod and a smile, sipping on his drink and trying to get used to Minho’s staring. “All of that built up and my mental health deteriorated and I quit my job...way too late, in hindsight. I wish I would’ve done it earlier, but better late than never, right?”

Minho nods along.

“Once I had no structure again I fell back to my old sleeping habits. Then I panicked and worried for a long time...you know how it is.”

“I don’t,” Minho says, shrugging. “That’s not my flavor of mental problems, but I can sympathize. What happened then?”

Well, the moon guided Jisung to the store. In a sense. But he’s already told Minho a lot about himself, and maybe he shouldn’t mention how superstitious he’s discovered he can be. 

“The stars aligned,” he says instead. “And I found this store. The night shift suits my sleeping habits and the work is predictable aside from a few weird customers.” He gives Minho a little wink. “I never have to deal with too many people at once and one-on-one conversations are easier for me. Most of the time I’m alone, too.”

“Do you like being alone?”

No, Jisung doesn’t like it. 

“I like my job,” he says. Minho leans back in his chair and raises both his brows at him. “It’s– I have a lot of free time. I can watch anime and wear what I want– and at home I never have to worry about any upcoming schedules or meetings. It allows me to focus on my passion, and that’s really all I need.”

After a few excruciating seconds, Minho sighs through his nose. Something tells Jisung that means he’s displeased with him avoiding his question, but won’t push it further. 

“Alright,” Minho says. “Can I guess what it is?”

Jisung blinks. “What what is?”

“Your passion. Your whole getup screams I have a creative interest.” He points at Jisung’s outfit. “I think I can guess it right.”

Jisung smiles and squirms, his stomach feeling funny from how insistent Minho is to know him. He doesn’t know which would be more fun, for Minho to read him right or for him to be wrong. 

“Yeah, go ahead,“ he says and puts his arms up to pose and flex for Minho while he tries to distract himself from how flustered he gets from being watched intently. He should go to the gym again.

He’s lost a lot of muscle in the past months, but his silly pose still makes Minho smile, with a hint of something dangerous that Jisung can’t place. 

“Hmm.” Minho tilts his head. “Take off your vest, Jisungie.”

Jisung’s heart skips a beat. He fumbles with the buttons but does as he’s told, folding the vest on the table. He resists doing nervous jazz hands afterward.

“Ah, I see.” Minho nods to himself. “At first I thought you’re an artist. With your tattoo and your shaggy haircut and your cute little beard you gave me mangaka vibes.”

Jisung blushes. He’s glad he shaved, even though Minho didn’t say it in a negative tone. “Maybe I am.”

“You’re not. You can draw, probably. Most creative people like to dip into various arts.”

“How do you know? Do you do art?” Minho did say that he works at a studio. If it’s a tattoo studio Jisung might fucking faint.

“I’m friends with artists,” Minho says, ignoring Jisung’s second question as a small way to get back at him. Probably. “But you’re not an artist. You’re a musician.”

Jisung crosses his arms and pouts. “You only guessed right because I’m wearing my Nana necklace.”

“Oh, is the necklace from Nana?” Minho blinks at him. “I never watched it. I thought you’re wearing a lock around your neck because you’re kinky.”

“Hyung,” Jisung whines, hiding his face again. 

“Who has the key, by the way? Tell me their address.”

“I have the key!” Jisung says through nervous laughter, so easily flustered by this pretty man, whose equally pretty voice has a threatening lilt.

“That’s good.” Minho nods to himself, a cat-like satisfied smile on his lips. “It suits you. It matches your romantic rapper rockstar vibes.”

Jisung waves him off. “Okay, now you’re just saying words.”

“What, am I wrong?”

“Well–” Jisung clears his throat. “I didn’t think about being a rapper.”

Minho blinks at him like Jisung just told him the moon is flat. “Why not?”

“What’s with the accusatory tone?”

“All signs point to you having great rapper potential.” Minho uses his fingers to count. “You have a nice voice, you speak faster than your brain can keep up, you listen to Changbin almost exclusively during your shifts.”

“I like his lyrics,” Jisung says meekly, shy at how much attention Minho has been paying to him. “And– I don't really know what direction I want to go yet. I only started learning about music a few months ago. I like how rockstar sounds, though.”

“Romantic rapper rockstar has a nice ring to it,” Minho says stubbornly, nodding along. His dedication is sweet.

Jisung stuffs some crackers in his mouth. “If you didn’t want to see my necklace, why did you tell me to take off my vest?”

Minho’s eyes drop down to Jisung’s chest. The foot under the table caresses Jisung’s ankle, making Jisung almost choke on his bite. 

“Guess,” Minho says sweetly.

Jisung is wearing a tight fitting black sweater today. He squirms, resisting the urge to cross his arms to hide from Minho’s sight, legs starting to bounce with nerves. 

“You like telling others what to do,” he says instead, breath hitching when Minho’s foot dips under the hem of his pant leg.

“You’re talented and smart.” Minho hums. “Lucky me.”

“Hngh,” Jisung answers smartly before he gets a grip on himself. Is he really that touch starved that a shoe caressing his leg is turning his knees weak? “You can’t know that I’m talented.”

“I’ll know when we do karaoke together.” The confident way he says it has Jisung nodding along before he realizes that he just accepted a future date.

“So!” Jisung claps his hands together awkwardly, like he’s finishing a presentation. He clears his throat and takes a sip of his drink, realizing how parched he is. “That was enough talking about myself for the next whole month.”

“Why?” Minho whines, mouth falling open to reveal his bunny teeth as his brows furrow cutely. 

“It’s embarrassing! I told you so much.”

Minho waves him off. “Not true, you only confirmed what I already knew.” Before Jisung can ask him what that is, Minho continues. “You’re like the mysterious and hot musician character in a slice of life anime that turns out to be shy and hardworking.”

“Eh?” Jisung cups his burning cheeks with both his palms, blinking at Minho with wide eyes and huffing out a laugh. “You see me as an anime main character? Hyung, I’m not that cool!”

“Main character?” Minho shakes his head. “Of course not. You’re the popular side character that the main character falls in love with. I’m the main character.”

“What are you saying?” Jisung whines, now completely defeated, burying his face in his forearms while slumping over the table. He was never used to direct flirting, and no one was ever as aggressive with their advances as Minho is. It’s completely disorientating. Jisung would faint if he wasn’t well fed and hydrated.

Minho laughs at him, poking Jisung’s arms with his finger. When Jisung continues whining and making unidentifiable noises, Minho presses the cold can to his ear and startles him to sit back upright. 

“I’m going to die,” Jisung admits. He presses two fingers to his neck, monitoring his pulse. It’s been so long since his pulse was this quick from reasons that didn’t have anything to do with dread.

Minho smiles at him, warm and patient. “Okay, any last wishes?”

Jisung’s stomach erupts with butterflies. Maybe he drank too much of his carbonated drink, or maybe the ease at which Minho goes along with his silliness is so attractive that Jisung might really burst.

“Tell me about yourself,” he says. 

“Mhh.” Minho takes a second to think, tapping his foot against Jisung’s leg. “There’s not much to say. I’m gay, I have three cats, and my favourite food is meat.”

“And why are you awake at three am?”

“Because I’m like you. I also have something I’m passionate about, and in order to pay the bills I do something on the side, too.”

Jisung points an accusatory finger at him. “There’s plenty to say about those. Tell me everything. What are your jobs? What are you passionate about? Are you a tattoo artist, since you said you work at a studio? Please say no to the last part.”

“It’s cute how eager you are. You really want to get to know me, hm?”

“I do,” Jisung says, confidently and not at all in a flustered way. “The side character falls in love with the main character by getting to know them.”

Minho blinks at him. He covers his mouth with his hand. “Wow. It sounds so romantic when you say it.”

“It was already romantic.” Jisung laughs. “Those are your words, hyung.”

“You deliver them way better.” Minho tilts his head, sharp eyes piercing Jisung when he looks him up and down. “Ah, what do I do Jisung-ah? I’m all shy now.”

He doesn’t look shy at all. He’s clearly teasing Jisung, looking at him like—like he wants to eat him. 

“Stop trying to distract me,” Jisung says eventually, moving his legs to trap Minho’s foot in between his calves. The little giggle that he gets in return is beautiful. “I want to know more about you.”

“Alright, alright.” Minho leans in, chin propped up by both his hands. How can he look so dangerous in one moment and cute in the next? His eyes remind him of a cat, while his teeth and the space between his upper lip and nose remind him of a bunny. “I want us to be friends first, Jisungie. You’ll get to know me slowly but surely, okay?”

“Sorry, did I push too hard?”

“Nope. Will you be sad about me taking a while to open up?”

“I don’t think so. Or actually, I will. You need to show me pictures of your cats to make up for it.”

Minho's shoulders visibly relax when he leans back in his chair. “Sure, I’ll show you on our next little date.”

“Yay,” Jisung says. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Ah. I’m not sure yet. Both my jobs are really spontaneous this week. I wasn’t even planning to stay this long today, but you were so sweet I just couldn’t help it.”

“Hyung,” Jisung whines. “Is it okay? Won’t you be in trouble?”

Minho shrugs. “Not much more trouble than usual.”

“I can’t wait to understand what that means.”

Minho laughs again, and this time he stands up. “Thank you for the breakfast, Jisungie.” 

Jisung notes that that means Minho just woke up and isn’t going to sleep soon like Jisung will. He stands up after Minho, somewhat awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pants pocket and standing beside him to say his goodbyes.

Minho opens his mouth to speak but stays quiet. He looks Jisung up and down so slowly that Jisung panics about the type of pants and shoes that he’s wearing, immediately self conscious.

“Do you prefer home cooked meals or takeout?” Minho asks once he’s back to making his intense eye contact again. Jisung is determined to get used to that.

“I uh, I can’t cook,” he says. “I mostly get takeout for myself. But I like it when people cook for me.” 

Minho nods. “Alright, I’ll invite you over for dinner when you’re ready for me to fuck you.”

“Huh,” he says, frozen stiff at the sudden turn in their conversation. 

“I said I’d like to cook dinner for you and then fuck you,” Minho repeats with a teasing lilt, stepping closer to Jisung and using his barely three centimeter height difference to smile down at him. “Once you’re ready.”

“Are you– Are you this blunt to everyone you’re interested in?”

Minho nods, and that helps Jisung understand him a little better. “I also like to invite new friends over to meet my brothers.” His cats, right? “But I can’t do that with you, Jisungie. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you. So let me know when you’re ready, okay?”

Jisung’s military training kicks in and he salutes stiffly. “Yes sir. Hyung. Minho-hyung. Yes, that's okay.”

Minho doesn’t kiss him, but he does something almost worse. He smiles so fondly that Jisung’s heart almost stops. When Jisung turns to clean off the table, to distract him from how he’s most definitely red as a tomato, Minho stops him by cupping his cheek and turning him back to face him.

“And give me your number.”

Jisung thinks about that interaction a normal amount. He walks home in the early morning, head in the clouds while he zones out and repeats the memory of Minho’s warm palm on his face. 

When he showers, he strokes himself to Minho’s gentle voice, sweet but demanding, telling Jisung to give him his number instead of asking. When he cozies up in his bed, he scrolls through the few contacts that he has saved in his phone, and grinds his hardening cock into his bedsheets. He thinks of Minho’s fingers dancing along the phone screen, inputting his number and saving his name as Minho-hyung with a heart emoji, then imagines the hand on his cheek caressing him, trailing up to his hair and patting him.

The sheets rub the tip of his cock, bringing him so close but never being enough to make him come. Just before he reaches back to finger himself, a new message notification pops up. 

Sleep well, Jisungie.

Jisung comes with a loud whine. He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about it, because his orgasm sends him right into sleep. When he wakes up he grimaces from the dried come sticking against him and his bed, but he scrambles to thank Minho and apologize for answering late. 

Jisung spends the rest of the day lounging around and daydreaming of Minho. He tries not to—He tries to clean up and dutifully answer all of Felix’s memes that he’s sent him but he simply can’t, too busy wondering what kind of job Minho has at a studio.

He sits at the little table in the corner of the kitchen part of his studio apartment and sips his tea. A random, gentle lo-fi playlist is playing in the background because he always needs something to fill the quiet of his space. The sun is beautiful and setting soon, flooding Jisung’s space with warm orange light. 

Every few minutes he giggles and kicks his feet. He can’t help it. Thinking about how he gets to go back to a job that he doesn’t hate, and gets to spend time with someone sweet who made it clear they’re interested in him makes him so happy that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. So he sits there quietly and enjoys the passage of time. 

Occasionally he picks up his phone and notes down some words, phrases, and imagery, fueled by a type of inspiration that he hasn’t felt in a while. New and blossoming feelings bring that out in him, make him want to put pen to paper and pour all his heart out. 

Thinking about Minho and his flirtatious encouragement makes him feel like all his dreams will come true, eventually. 

When he cries, it’s not because he’s sad or anxious or stressed. For the first time the sun disappearing behind the buildings and then the horizon doesn’t feel like watching sand falling between his fingers. It feels like a privilege, and it signals something to look forward to. 

Picking out an outfit for today’s shift is fun. He grabs a long sleeved band shirt and baggy jeans, pairing them with little hoop earrings, a long necklace, and a cap. He chooses to wear the glasses that Minho complimented him on. 

In the mirror, he looks like a musician, just like Minho said. Like a producer. A job that allows him to have a cozy and dark studio for himself, where he can let his creative side go wild and help people reach their own creative visions, too. 

He could be whatever he wants to be, if he works hard enough on it. A rockstar, a rapper, or both like Minho said. 

Though Jisung can’t imagine himself standing on stage and performing without it feeling nauseating. But he doesn’t have to start there. He can start small. In his apartment, in a recording on his phone, or maybe even at a karaoke bar with Minho. 

The walk to work is pleasant. Tonight, there's a new moon. The sky is dark, fitting as a signal of Jisung's newfound determination, but he still looks forward to when the moon shines full. Like Minho said, he is a romantic. There's something comforting about the moon completely engulfed with the sun's love. 

He smiles at the customers and holds eye contact for longer than before. Minho might train that nervous habit out of him if they become friends. Or if they become more. Thinking about the more makes him crouch down behind the register and hug his knees when no customers are there.

If more doesn’t work out, he’s happy with just being friends! Is what he will tell Minho in case they talk about it again. Still, he can’t stop hoping, and that hope and excitement tickles his insides and makes him giggle to himself.

Jisung is a simple creature. All he really needs is art and food and friends. Isn’t that what most slice of life anime are about? He’s neglected his needs for so long that now that he’s on the road to reconnecting to them, it’s all so overwhelming. In a good way, but also a little embarrassing how a simple crush turns him into a squirming mess.

The bell chimes and Jisung scrambles to stand back up, and only almost falls twice. He whips around and hopes that the person didn’t see him stumble but, just like he’s really in a slice of life anime, the main character is already at his counter and blinking at him.

“Hi,” Jisung says and pretends that Minho didn’t see him. A quick glance at the analog clock on the wall tells him it’s around two. “You’re here earlier than usual.”

“Hi,” Minho says with a knowing tone, not pretending like he didn’t see Jisung, but being merciful enough not to point it out. He rubs his eyes and blinks at Jisung, different from how he usually reacts to the bright lights, and more like he just woke up. 

Minho hands him a protein bar and Jisung rings him up.

“Good morning,” Jisung says when he hands it back to him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Sorry Jisungie, I can’t stay long.” Minho stuffs his mouth with an expression of someone that doesn’t enjoy the taste of his food, but likes the nutritional benefits of it. “Just here for a quick snack before I return to my job.”

Jisung wants so badly to ask what his job is, but he decides not to push. He watches in awe as Minho demolishes the protein bar. “Your stomach will hurt. Eat your snack slowly.“

“This,” Minho says after he swallows down the last bit, pocketing the wrapper, “was my breakfast. You’re the snack.”

Jisung is way too easy, blushing at the silly, clearly just-woke-up brained flirting even as he tries really hard not to. 

“Well, here I am,” he says, not resisting doing his little jazz hands with a ta-da sound this time.

Minho nods at him like he’s appraising him. “I’ll try to visit again later. I’m not sure if I can stay for another date, but I’ll let you know then.”

“That’s alright.” Jisung wouldn’t want to come off as overbearing anyway, and it’s so sweet that Minho obviously wants to spend time with him despite whatever hectic job he has going on. 

“Ah, and here.” Minho hands Jisung some more money. “For yesterday’s food.”

Jisung flails his hands in front of him. “We don’t have to share the cost, I invited you.”

Minho sets the money on the counter, sliding it over to Jisung and leaning closer into his space. “I’m not sharing it. I never let my dates pay.”

“Okay,” Jisung says in a high pitched voice and gives an awkward thumbs up. His heart races, because apparently Minho is the perfect man. “Then I’ll see you later, maybe. Thank you and have a good day!”

He cringes at himself for defaulting to cashier language. Minho smiles at him, and maybe Jisung doesn’t mind making a fool of himself if it makes him smile like that.

“See you.” Minho waves, jacket and hoodie sleeve covering his hands to where only the tips of his fingers are visible. 

It’s so adorable. What did Jisung do to deserve meeting someone this sweet? Minho lingers on the wave, and they stare at each other awkwardly in a way that would make Jisung anxious and self-conscious if it were anyone other than Minho. It’s almost pleasant now, the way his face heats up when Minho just keeps waving for a few more seconds while he yawns. 

Minho does a little bow before he turns. 

When Jisung’s gaze drops to Minho’s shoes, his heart almost stops before it begins to beat rapidly.  

Minho leaves a blood trail, his entire left shoe and some of his sweatpant leg covered in red. 

Jisung stands frozen for some time before he jumps into action. His body moves first, mop and bucket in hand, cleaning the floor before anyone can walk in on it.

Hopefully the concrete outside is dark enough that it’s not as visible on it, or else it could be trailed to Minho. How does Minho not notice? You don’t just step into blood or have your whole body covered in it without noticing–

He halts, breathing heavily, holding a hand on his chest to try to calm himself. What is going on? How pathetic of him to defend someone that has shady business going on, just because he smiled at him and made him feel special. He should call the police. Or tell someone. Anyone. It would be the right thing to do. 

And still, he crouches down and sniffs the air. He hopes to smell something sweet, something edible, whatever the internet told him that fake blood should smell like. But he finds nothing. No metal or iron or sweet scent, only the refreshing lemon of the cleaner he’s using. 

He probably shouldn’t touch it, but he does, since last time his hands were covered anyway. It looks like blood. It feels like blood. And the water in the bucket turns orange from it. 

But it smells like nothing. 

He gets rid of all the evidence before washing and disinfecting his hands, removing his cap and running them through his hair in soothing motions. With shaky fingers he does more searching on the internet and finds nothing about fake blood that doesn’t have any smell. He jumps when the door chimes as another customer enters, but he keeps a neutral face and manages not to fall into a panic attack throughout it. 

He should ask Minho about it. He doesn’t want to ask Minho about it. What if confronting him about it is dangerous? What if it involves Jisung in something he doesn’t want to be involved in, something that destroys his idyllic little life that he managed to build for himself? He doesn’t want to lose it, but he doesn’t want to lose Minho, either. The version of Minho that Jisung thinks that he is, at least.

How would he confront him anyway? Hey hyung, uh, did you invent a new version of fake blood? If so, that's amazing! That would sell really well on the market because if it’s scentless that means that it won’t attract bugs. Or are you killing people? Haha. Or animals, I guess. Please let it be animals at least, even though both options greatly upset me.

He builds the script in his mind for the next hour, staying rooted at the register. He doesn’t make eye contact with the next two customers. Only when the door chimes again, accompanied by a sweet, whiny Jisungie, does his head snap back up. 

Minho walks in, face glued to his phone. 

“Sorry Jisungie,” he says, blood dripping from his entire left side, covering his jacket and pants and everything. Both of his shoes are red, covering the floor with it when he shuffles over to the counter. “I can’t stay again, work is annoyingly busy. I’ll text you soon, okay?”

Did he just come back to say that? Not caring that Jisung will have to clean up after him, again?

“I–”

Jisung swallows down his words when the door chimes again. Panic settles in, his whole body and face frozen as a middle aged man enters the store. 

“You look a little pale,” Minho tells him cheerily, placing some cash on the counter. “Here, don’t forget to eat. I gotta run! See you.”

He turns too fast and collides into the shoulder of the man behind him, smearing blood all over him too.

Jisung waits for the tension to snap, for the man to freak out, scream or yell or ask what’s happening but...he doesn’t. Minho bows and apologizes profusely while he keeps walking, leaving the store with yet more bloody footsteps behind. Meanwhile the man smiles at Jisung with a shoulder covered in blood, and pays for his drinks before he leaves, casually walking through the blood on the way out.

Jisung’s skin crawls. Nothing about this is normal. The analog clock on the wall reads half past three. He stares at the bloody footprints on the floor, carelessly misshapen by another pair of shoes, like the man had seen the blood and didn’t care to avoid it.

Or he didn’t see it. Jisung doesn’t know which option is creepier, both sending a cold shiver down his spine. The back of his neck prickles like he’s suddenly aware of an audience that he previously wasn’t. 

All his senses beg for Jisung to stay in place. It would be smart to stay in the convenience store’s harsh lights, clean the floor of blood for the third time, and tell Minho that he’s not interested and that he doesn’t want to see him again. Ever.

But Jisung is a bit of a moron. Or maybe he’s a suicidal fool. Either way, he needs to know what’s going on, so before he can think himself out of it, he starts following the blood path. 

Outside the moon isn’t visible, leaving Jisung on his own. Two sets of blood trails stretch away from Jisung—one towards the store and one away from it, heading in the same direction. The streets are eerily quiet, just like they always are during the witching hour. Tonight it isn’t comforting. 

The trail brings him to a particularly dark area. An alleyway. No street lights or neon signs illuminate it, only light speckles of stars in the sky.

Jisung’s heart beats wildly when he peeks around the corner. He squints at the silhouette in the dark, his face illuminated by his dim phone screen.

“Just come out,” Minho says, making Jisung startle. He isn’t talking to him. He’s turned to the fence, tapping his foot in annoyance. “You’re dead either way, today or tomorrow.”

And there it is.

Jisung has heard enough. He turns to run. 

A set of five eyes stares at him, right in front of his face. He falls on his ass and scrambles back, the mass of black void filling his entire vision, eyes opening all around like stars in the night sky with black pupils all focusing on him. A wide maw with razor sharp teeth opens–

Jisung screams when something grabs his arm and yanks him up. 

“He’s mine,” Minho hisses, holding Jisung pinned to his side by the waist. He extends his hand and grabs a handful of the void, a perspective that hurts Jisung’s eyes. It catches the monster’s attention, all of its many eyes pointing to Minho.

Minho turns to Jisung, looking down at him with a frown. He clicks his tongue. 

“Why’d you follow me, Jisungie?” His tone sounds too casual for how he’s holding an eldritch being in his grasp. He has no right to sound disappointed with Jisung right now.

“The fucking blood,” Jisung spits back, filled with adrenaline. “Why else!”

He squeaks pathetically as Minho pushes him behind himself, until his back hits a wall. He sinks down and hugs his knees to his chest. 

The monster lunges, and Minho moves faster than Jisung’s eyes can keep up. In a blur he grabs it and smashes its shapeless form to the ground, stomping on it until its shifting black mass is nothing but a bloody mess all over the pavement. 

“I’m not getting any younger.” He sighs and does a big stretch where his back pops audibly. He faces Jisung with a warm smile under all the blood that’s splattered up onto his cheeks. He crouches down with Jisung, putting a hand on his knee. “Are you okay, Jisungie?”

Jisung tries to answer, but his mind is trapped in his frozen body, still processing what it just saw. 

“Oh baby,” Minho coos, patting Jisung’s knees and shins. “That was too much for one night, wasn’t it? Let me take you home.”

Jisung blinks up at him then squeezes his eyes shut when Minho picks him up. Bridal style. His heart races faster than when it saw an eldritch being’s many eyes on him. He makes a choked noise and holds onto Minho’s jacket, getting blood all over his hands. 

“Don’t worry honey,” Minho says in a sweet tone. He carries Jisung out of the alleyway into the street like he just picked up a stray cat. Is he calling him pet names to soothe him, too? Jisung might explode or pop a boner because of the adrenaline, and he isn’t sure which is worse. “The blood isn’t visible for ordinary humans.”

What does that mean for Minho? What does that mean for Jisung?

Jisung tries to speak, to tell Minho that he’s fine and that he should just drop him off at the store, but he gasps and clings onto Minho for dear life when he spots another, smaller black void of a shape hiding in the shadows of a parked car on the pathway.

“That one isn’t dangerous,” Minho says, then walks over to it, its eyes closing when he steps over. Jisung exerts himself to peek over Minho’s shoulder to watch the many eyes blink themselves into focus, staring at him when they go. “Most of them aren’t. You just happened to meet a really grumpy one at the start.”

Grumpy. Jisung remembers its bottomless maw with its many teeth and shudders.

They enter a building that Jisung isn’t familiar with, and he realizes that home meant Minho’s home. He should be glad that in addition to everything he unveiled about Minho tonight, he isn’t also a stalker–

“My place is closer than yours, hope that’s okay.” 

Nevermind.

“I won’t do anything to you tonight, of course,” Minho continues almost merrily, walking up the stairs with Jisung in his arms, not even breathing heavily. Jisung hates him. “I’ll just keep you here until you can walk out safely.”

He sets Jisung down on his legs in front of a door, and Jisung’s knees almost buckle. Minho holds his waist firmly, getting more blood on Jisung and smiling down at him. 

“Careful, princess.”

Jisung grabs Minho’s jacket firmly. “Stick with baby.”

Minho giggles and inputs the code. “Baby, then.”

Jisung tries so hard to walk inside, but he just can’t. He stares at his useless feet, and wow, of course there’s blood on his Converse too.

“Hyung,” he says, and it must sound incredibly helpless because Minho hums and says I’m here, I’m here, then crouches and holds the back of Jisung’s thighs to pick him up again. Differently this time. Jisung’s arms land around Minho’s neck and his thighs tighten around Minho’s waist in panic. 

Minho sighs while he brings him inside. “I really wish you were here for different reasons. Soonie-yah, make some space.”

Something chirps softly behind them, and Jisung is placed on a comfortable sofa. An adorable orange cat stands on the cushion beside him, tilting its head and sizing him up with a curious expression like it’s deciding whether or not to be mad at Jisung for taking its spot. It ends up flopping on its side, its back pressing against Jisung’s thigh.

Minho gently lifts Jisung’s chin.

“I can get you some food.” He tilts his head, some of the blood on his cheek rolling down his face, the rest having already dried. He looks terrifying in red. Jisung would do anything he tells him in that deceptively sweet voice. “Do you eat meat?”

“I’m allergic,” Jisung blurts.

“To meat?”

“To cats.” 

“Well, then I won’t feed you Dori. Sit still for me.” Minho takes off his jacket. His forearms are bare of ink, luckily.

Jisung feels bad as he watches him rummage through his kitchen cabinets. He’s a guest, but he didn’t even take his shoes off at the front door, and he didn’t greet Soonie politely. 

Somewhere distantly he recognizes that he must be in some kind of shock. Watching Minho take leftovers out of his fridge and reheat them feels like watching a movie—or like watching an anime. 

Is this how a side character feels when the main character drags them into adventure, or unveils a whole new world to them? It must be. Jisung imagined it to be more glorious than shaking hands and almost complete numbness.

Minho’s place is almost as small as his own, but it isn’t a studio. The only significant difference is the large windows on one side. Outside it’s still dark. 

Dark and weirdly pitch black, in fact.

In the darkness, many sharp eyes open and land on Jisung, plastered against the window like they’re trying to get in.

“I’d like to wake up now,” Jisung says when Minho hands him chopsticks and a reheated bowl of pork and veggies. 

Minho sits cross legged on the floor in front of Jisung’s legs and props his head up on a hand. “You’re awake.”

“No I’m not.” Jisung brings the food close and inhales. It’s warm and smells delicious. “This is clearly a dream. I’m at the apartment of the prettiest man I’ve ever seen and he has cats and calls me princess and gives me food and looks insanely hot covered in blood. Fuck, the blood kink caught up to me, just like Felix said it would.” 

Minho blinks up at him, his ears turning a weak shade of red compared to the blood. 

“I’m still on the verge of deciding if this is a wet dream or a nightmare,” Jisung continues. “Your forearms tell me this is a wet dream, but that guy over at the window is straight out of my nightmares. Can you make him stop looking at me? That really isn’t the kind of exhibitionism that I’m into, I think. I want my first time to be only between us please.”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Not for long, I hope.”

“Jisung-ah,” Minho says in the same tone that he said Soonie-yah. He pats Jisung’s shin. “Keep talking please, I’ll use all of this information against you.”

Jisung shuts his mouth immediately or the next words would have been I’d rather you stomp on me like on that monster. He dives into his food and stuffs his nervous mouth.

“It’s the one we walked by earlier,” Minho says, leaning back on his arms and looking at the window. “He can’t enter my place, but he’s curious about you. Just like I am.”

Jisung swallows a way too big piece of meat that leaves his throat aching. “Because I can see it?”

Minho nods. “Since when can you see them?”

“Today.” Jisung looks at the blood on Minho. “Or– No. I saw the blood when you came to the store that first time. You were covered in it.”

Minho blinks at Jisung in surprise. “Are you lying to me?”

“No?”

“Why didn’t you say anything about it then, or have any reaction?”

“Well, sorry Monster Hunter-ssi.” Jisung jabs an accusatory chopstick in Minho’s direction. “Some of us have a freeze response, you know? And I reacted to it plenty! I agonized over it for hours and you kept coming back to the store and acted like normal and flirted with me, and maybe I just wanted to forget all about–” He waves his chopsticks and bowl around in the general direction of his existence. “All about my stress. I just wanted to have a good time and finally feel normal.”

If he stuffs his face with enough food, he can surely distract from how he’s tearing up. His nose gets stuffy fast and his vision blurs as he tries to gulp down all the pork and breathe at the same time, but he’s crying pathetically before he can help it. 

“I’m sorry,“ Minho says, shuffling slightly closer to set a hand on the sleeping Soonie. “Very few people can see them, and I grew up with them. I never heard of someone gaining the ability later in life. You’re usually born with it.”

Jisung sets the empty bowl on the ground and pulls his knees in, hugging them. He rubs his eyes and nose on the sleeves of his sweater—since he embarrassed himself in front of Minho already, it doesn’t matter how messy he gets. “Thank you for the meal. What are they?”

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Soonie makes a little noise in his sleep. Behind Minho there’s an open bedroom door that shows the shape of a cat tree up against the wall. 

“My grandpa calls them demons,” Minho says eventually, his upper lip twitching at the word. He pets Soonie’s head. “He believes they’ve been sent on earth to suck the life out of anything they touch.”

His cold tone makes Jisung shudder. Before he can interject, Minho continues.

“My mom believes they’re spirits.” He looks up at Jisung, observing his reaction. His eyes are dark and big. “She says they’re our ancestors, twisted and deformed by the afterlife, crawling back to earth...sucking out human energy.”

Jisung hugs his knees tighter. “So they don’t know.”

“You catch on fast, Jisung-ah.”

“You made it obvious for me.”

“Did I?” Minho rolls his eyes. “For them it’s not obvious.”

“Oh, yikes,” Jisung says, because what do you even say when you find out that supernatural beings exist and entire generations can’t find a common way to categorize them? “I’m sorry about your family. I’m sensing really tense vibes when you talk about them. Or maybe I’m just tense because that guy is still looking at me.”

Minho gives Jisung a small smile. “I can close the curtains.”

“That would be really rude though.” Jisung glances at the eldritch being pressing its surface with all those eyes against the window. His skin crawls when some of them blink, pupils unmoving, directed at him. “Why can’t he come in?”

“I set up some wards around the apartment.” Minho gestures around. “Otherwise they’d probably kill me in my sleep. And don’t worry, I’ll get you a charm to wear that’ll protect you.”

Jisung presses his lips tight in a weak smile and nods with the same anxiety as when he was told he’d be holding a spontaneous presentation. “Yeah, okay. It’s not like I need time to adjust to any of this information or anything.”

“I can slow down.”

“No, no.” Jisung shakes his head. “Give it all to me now so that I can start processing it today. So the monster hunting is...” 

“My side job.”

“Your side job.“ It sounds so ridiculous that Jisung laughs loudly, startling Soonie awake. The ridiculousness of the situation hits him like a punch to the gut, taking all his breath. His crush is sitting prettily in front of him, all covered in blood while he’s blinking his big eyes and tilting his head, speaking to him so gently and kindly. 

It’s a little silly. He may be going through a lot of stages of hysteria. Out of all the anime categories that had to come to life, did it really have to be the one with monsters that could potentially kill him? 

“Hyung, this might be a little too much for me to process. Maybe I should go out and let Many Eyes-ssi eat me.”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” Minho says. The sad tone sobers Jisung right up. “It’s a lot for anyone to understand, especially when you just got thrown into it. Normally I like to ease people into it.”

“You tell people?” Jisung winces. It definitely came out as a little whiny with a dash of so I’m not special?

Minho stands up with a groan. “I tell the people close to me, in case something happens to me. Most of them can’t see them though.”

That shouldn’t make Jisung as happy as it does. He stands up, then considers sitting back down again, because they’re way too close. Minho stares at him and blinks slowly. His gaze falls to Jisung’s lips. Jisung pretends to be extremely curious about Minho’s floor, so that he doesn’t interpret the atmosphere as anything that it shouldn’t be.

“This job is like your convenience store night shift,” Minho says. “Just that it’s an early morning shift. It helps me pay my bills and lets me dance on the side.”

Jisung’s eyes jump up to his. “You dance?”

“Yeah, I dance.”

“Please tell me everything about that.”

Minho’s smile is slightly crooked, bunny teeth on display, a stark contrast to all the blood. “Now Jisungie, that would make me look way less mysterious.”

“Trust me, you’ll still be very mysterious.” Jisung sets both hands on Minho’s shoulders. “Tell me all about your dancing, Minho-ssi, please.”

Minho laughs. He turns to walk away, and Jisung follows on instinct. 

“A lot happened today,” he says. “Let’s leave some fun conversation topics for our future dates, yeah?”

“Eh? No fair, you’d tell me all about your eldritch being killing but you won’t–” Jisung walks right into a wall, which, once he finds his balance and rubs his nose, he realizes was Minho’s back. 

“I don’t just kill them,” Minho says, voice even. “Not if I don’t have to. It’s annoying.”

Annoying.

Jisung’s eyes drop to the blood covering Minho’s clothes. “Because of the mess? How do you even get it all out?”

It takes a long three seconds for Minho to face him. He doesn’t look at Jisung, but past him. Jisung follows his gaze to the curious void on the window. Its many eyes are all still open, boring through Jisung, unblinking.

“I just wait,” Minho says, and right on cue the void starts to disappear. 

The monster crumples in on itself, like the edges of a paper that’s been set on fire. All of its eyes shut except the middle one, staring at Jisung. No smoke or ash is left behind. The sky lights up slightly, the sun somewhere above the horizon.

Jisung turns to Minho and finds his clothes free of blood. “They can’t handle sunlight.”

“Convenient, isn’t it?”

If it is, then what did Minho mean by annoying? And why is Jisung’s gut telling him not to ask just yet?

“Sure,” Jisung says. Time for a smooth topic change. “Why am I in your bedroom?”

“For sex.”

Jisung crosses his pointer fingers and makes a wrong buzzer sound with his mouth. “That’s a lie. If it were true, something tells me I’d be on my knees by now.”

Minho grins and nods. “Alright, I’ll remember that for when it’s time.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to answer so he just crosses his arms and leans against the door frame in a surely very convincing display of confidence. 

Minho’s bedroom has a simple full sized bed and a closet with no mess lying around like in Jisung’s room. It almost looks a little untouched, like he doesn’t often spend time here but rather in the living room. Another contrast to Jisung’s lifestyle. There’s a cat tree against the wall, tall and sturdy with with many lounging spaces—

Four sharp green eyes blink at him from the darkness of the little houses. He startles and falls against Minho, but before he can point out that there’s more monsters in the shadows, his eyes adjust and he finds two cats staring at him.

He laughs at himself, then realizes he’s hooked his arm through Minho’s.

“Sorry!” He releases him and accepts that Minho might never ever think that he’s cool or anything close to it. “Your cats spooked me. They looked like the monsters.”

Minho throws new bedding on the bed and gestures for Jisung to help him. Together they change the sheets and pillowcases.

Minho claps his hands together when they’re finished. “It’s nothing special but I hope it’s comfortable for you. These should be cat-hair free.”

Jisung points at himself. “Are we sleeping together?”

“Not today, silly, I’m leaving for work soon. You’re sleeping alone.”

“I can walk again. I can– I don’t have to stay. And ah, I didn’t notify my manager that I left early, I should go back–”

Minho grabs him by the wrist before he can leave. “You look really tired, Jisung-ah. I start soon and can’t take you to the store or your home, and I’m scared you’ll collapse or freak out on the way.”

“Ha...” Jisung shrinks a little. “Okay, I’ll call my manager. But I might still freak out though.”

Minho grabs a shirt out of his closet and hands it to Jisung. 

“You’re safe here,” he says, stepping close and tracing fingers up Jisung’s arm soothingly. “I’ll be back when you wake up. We can talk more then, yeah? And go change, I don’t like outside clothes on the bed.”

Minho kisses the cat’s foreheads before he leaves. He gives Jisung a quick introduction to Soonie, Doongie and Dori, and Jisung tries to not feel jealous about the attention that they get. He makes sure to greet and bow to them quietly once Minho leaves. It’s not a great first impression, and now he’ll be sleeping in their bedroom. As soon as he changes into Minho’s shirt—oversized on him—he forgets his manners and collapses into the bed, sending a quick and apologetic text to his manager. He’ll worry about the cats liking him tomorrow.

He is exhausted, down to his core. His head pounds with fear and all the new information—Not enough information, somehow. Solid shadows with many eyes and an interest in him haunt him while he attempts to sleep. Sensitive to sunlight, and sucking out human energy. Like vampires? Is the blood that they bleed even theirs? They don’t look corporeal, but Minho touched and hurt them like they are. 

Something warm settles beside his feet. It’s the soft fur tickling him and Minho’s scent clinging to his shirt that pulls him to sleep. 

He wakes up cranky and slowly. When he blinks his eyes open and realizes he isn’t in his room, he sits up frantically. Outside it’s slowly getting dark, an orange and purple sky signaling the afternoon.

He hurries to stand up and stumbles out to the living room, finding Minho on the couch with Dori on his lap.

“Yo,” Minho says, eyes dropping down to Jisung’s bare arms and legs without shame. Jisung’s side tattoo must be peeking out of the hem, ending just on the top of his hip.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Jisung whines. “I slept half the day.”

“You looked like you needed it.”

“You watched me sleep, too?”

“You’re very cute when you drool.”

Jisung rubs dried spit from his face and tries not to die of embarrassment. He feels Minho’s eyes on his ass when he returns to the room to grab his pants, keeping Minho’s shirt on.

“Okay, so–” Jisung sits down on the couch and is immediately handed a bowl of freshly cooked bibimbap. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Ignore that, that’s not what I wanted to say– And yah, don’t just say that!“

Minho blinks at him. “You said it first.”

“Because you’re feeding me. I had no choice.” Jisung moans when he chews on the beef. “If they’re sensitive to sunlight, I think it would make sense for them to be more aggressive during the new moon.”

“What?”

“The moon, Minho-hyung,” Jisung says with his cheeks full. “Big round celestial object in the sky? It reflects the sun. If they’re sensitive to sunlight, it could be that they get empowered or aggressive if there’s a lack of it.”

Minho watches him, the hand on Dori petting him lightly.

“And– Oh my god, hyung–” Jisung sits up straight. ”When you came in that first time, you were covered in blood– Did you have to kill one then, too? Do you think it was aggressive because that’s when the moon started waning? I’m pretty sure it did at least. Maybe if we start tracking their behaviour we could see if this theory is–”

“Jisung, what do you think you're doing?”

“I was–” Jisung’s throat closes up. He clears it. “I’m trying to help? Trying to figure this out with you.”

“You’re going really fast,” Minho says, and Jisung’s eyes prickle. Jisung will never grow out of being sensitive to people’s tones.

“Am I talking nonsense?”

“Oh, honey.” Minho sets Dori aside and puts Jisung’s bowl away. He shuffles closer to Jisung and leans against the back of the couch, taking Jisung’s pointer finger and holding it. “Tell me, what do you want to do in life?”

Jisung huffs. “Big question to ask me at six pm on a workday.”

Minho smiles at him. “When I was young, I wanted to be a singer. I even auditioned as a trainee for some idol companies.”

“You’re an idol?”

“They didn’t take me.”

Jisung rubs his eyes. “Their loss.“

“I think I would’ve hated it.” Minho intertwines their hands. “I kept dancing with my crew in my free time, and when I graduated from uni, I became a dance teacher. I supervise trainees now.”

That’s so fucking hot. Jisung feels that the atmosphere isn’t one to get horny at because Minho is building up to an important point, but he can’t help but squeeze his hand. “That’s cool. Sorry that you’re not telling me this at a date, earlier you said–”

“It’s alright, this can count as a date. We’re holding hands.”

Jisung squeezes Minho’s hand, feeling warm all over. This may be the weirdest date he’s ever been on. He has the feeling many things with Minho will be weird.

“Why would you have hated being an idol?” He asks.

“Being a trainee is worse pay than being a teacher,” Minho says bitterly. “Those poor kids are being overworked, too. Half of my work is sneaking in food for them and convincing them that they need calories to function.“

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I love my work. The kids are ambitious and want to do well, so they listen well. I get to guide them in the right direction, and despite how hard it is sometimes, I can’t imagine having more fun anywhere else. I can see myself doing this until my limbs give out.”

Jisung catches the next I love you in his throat. “Hyung,” he says, “that’s so touching. You really care about them.”

“Sure.” Minho waves Jisung’s praise away, and Jisung knows to look for the tips of his ears to see them flush. “That’s what I want to do in life. I like being in charge and I want to have fun, and this does both for me. What do you want to do in life, Jisungie?”

Right now, Jisung wants to create music. He’s always loved music. Back in Malaysia it’s what got him through a hard transitional period in his life, and when he came back to Seoul it was what kept him going. 

But Jisung has always been a little obsessive over hobbies, especially new, shiny ones. One day he might wake up and not be interested in writing lyrics anymore. 

What would he want then? Without ambition or goal, what would he want then?

“I just don’t want to be stressed,” he says and smiles apologetically. “Sorry that it’s lame.”

“It’s not lame.” Minho squeezes Jisung’s hand. “You want to have fun, too, right? To be healthy and live comfortably, and to spend time doing what you love.”

How weird that it hurts when Minho spells it out. Jisung doesn’t want to be a musician for the fame. He wants to do something he loves, and to share it with others. He wants to feel safe. “That would be nice.”

“Then you’re just like me, Jisungie. We share a slice of life dream.”

“But Hyung...” He trails off. What about the monsters? 

“Maybe your theory is true.” Minho’s expression hardens. “But Jisung, it wouldn’t matter to anyone.”

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s tradition over logic,” Minho says, venom in his voice. “They don’t care about knowing them, Jisung-ah. Let alone understanding them.”

Jisung is stunned, sadness weighing on him. “But I want to know.”

“You can’t get involved in this.” 

“But I can see them, obviously it has something to do with me–”

“If anyone finds out about you, they’ll come for you.”

Jisung’s breath hitches. 

“You’re special,” Minho says like the word is rotten. “There are very few people who can see them, just a handful of families that were given the gift. You’re an anomaly.”

“And– And that’s bad?”

“Depends. Do you want to spend your life dedicated to the cause?” What cause? “If they find out about you, that’s all you’ll be doing. If someone outside of our families can gain the gift, they’ll want to know how. By any means necessary.”

Jisung’s hands shake. Supernatural beings are one thing—A distant, almost fictional feeling. But people? People feel very real.

Minho’s grip starts to hurt. “They don’t care to understand the beings they want to control, Jisung-ah. But they’ll care about exploiting your powers.”

“Is that what they do to you?”

Minho smiles, and Jisung can almost see the phantom blood on his face. “Well, they pay me.” 

“What the fuck. Can you even quit?”

“It’s complicated.” Minho sighs. “It’s messy and complex and my family is as traditional as they come. I might give my grandfather a heart attack if he finds out I’m gay.”

“Hyung, that isn’t okay. None of this is okay–”

“Oh baby, are you crying?”

“I can’t not cry! This is confusing and insane.” Jisung is experiencing the weight of apathy and helplessness. He’s always been an angry crier.

Minho pulls him into his lap, and Jisung blinks down at him in confusion. 

“Nothing bad will happen to you,” Minho says. “I won’t tell them about you, okay?”

Jisung sniffles. “But what about you, hyung, aren’t you mad?”

Minho cups both of Jisung’s cheeks and squishes his face. “I grew up like this. I had time to be mad.”

“Then be mad again. They’re forcing you to–”

“They can’t force me to do anything,” Minho says. “They’re also not hurting me, if that’s what you’re worried about. They’re my family. I’m sorry that it’s complicated.”

“Hyung, ahn, I can’t freak out if you’re squeezing my face.”

“That’s why I’m doing it.” Minho nods to himself. “It’s a lot to take in, and I’m about to drop something even worse on you, so I need you to be calm.”

Jisung clutches onto Minho’s shirt. He glances past Minho to the windows, where the sun went down already and artificial lights illuminate the darkness. “What can be worse than monsters and a whole bunch of information that I’ll never get to puzzle together?” 

Minho pulls something out of his pocket. He presents it to Jisung between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m afraid we’ll have to get engaged.”

Jisung sits at home in his kitchen, strumming his guitar.

A vintage diamond cluster ring sits on his pinkie. The gemstones are arranged in a beautiful starburst, one in the middle and six other around it. Looking at it now, it reminds him of the eyes the little creatures have. Like the one currently plastered at his window. It’s not as imposing as the ones that he’s seen before, more like a little speck in his vision that unsettles him when he remembers that it’s there. 

He brings the ring close to his ear before shaking his hand hard. There’s no rattling, no faint noise that would signify that the diamonds aren’t secured properly inside the prongs. The gems are fixed solidly into place, unlike Jisung’s rapidly changing worldview. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours since his eyes were opened to a whole new supernatural world, and he’s already engaged—fake engaged—to someone who’s part of it.

“This was my grandmother’s wedding ring,” Minho said, red faced as he slipped it snugly onto Jisung’s little finger. “She gave it to me before she passed away. It’s enchanted with a mobile ward that makes you uninteresting to beings, so nothing will bother you when you walk in the dark.”

Jisung just blinked at it, completely stunned. “Uh.” 

“I can’t make you a new charm,” Minho said, as he rubbed a thumb over Jisung’s knuckles. “My friend would get in trouble if he goes behind his family’s back and creates one without permission. This is the safest option. And if my family sees you wearing the ring you’ll have to say it’s because I’m madly in love with you and couldn’t wait to propose.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay. I can do that. Easy.“ 

He wanted to go on a walk before his shift to clear his head, but after the proposal Minho insisted on taking him home first. Ultimately, Jisung ended up grateful for the company. It turned out that eldritch beings with many eyes were as common as birds.

“As cats,” Minho corrected him through a yawn after he spotted yet another one hidden in the shadows of an alleyway. The journey back to Jisung’s place had clearly pushed him far past his usual bedtime. “You only really see them if you pay attention, or if they’re drawn to you. But they’re about as common as cats.”

He warned Jisung that they might be anywhere, especially staircases or apartments. Jisung tried to be at peace with that.

When they reached his door, he asked, “What do you think they are?” 

“Hm?”

“The monsters." He saw one through the window at the end of his hallway. It was long and stretched out, covering a few windows of the opposite building. Even without eye contact, it hurt his head to look at. “Do you believe they’re demons or spirits?”

Minho took a long moment to think about it, then. Briefly, Jisung felt bad for not inviting Minho inside, but he would’ve died if Minho saw the messy state of his apartment. He wanted to act like he had some dignity left.

“I think it’s more simple than that,” Minho eventually answered. “Maybe they’re neither, or both. To me they’re just creatures.”

It was such a simple answer. It suited Minho. “Like cats.”

“Or like us. Call me if you’re scared or need anything.”

With that, life returned to Jisung’s new normal. He showered and got ready for work, staring at the ring on his hand. He had no jewellery to match it, its style so overpowering that none of his cheap, modern earrings—dangly swords and pearls and little hoops—could compare. Eventually, he’d have to go thrifting for new pieces.

Now, he’s sitting in his kitchen and strumming his guitar while watching the little creature on his window. 

He tries to tell himself that it’s cute...kind of. Its eyes aren’t as terrifying when they’re not staring directly at him. If Jisung moves the ring off his finger, they snap to him. When he puts it on, they slowly unfocus, falling shut or watching something else. 

Minho said the ring makes him uninteresting to them, not invisible. Are they interested in Jisung because of his sudden, new ability to see them? Would they look at other humans sharply and with hunger, too? 

Jisung is naturally incredibly curious. When he’s hit with something or someone new and exciting, his skin itches to understand. 

But Minho’s warnings loop in his mind like a catchy song. If he gets involved—if someone finds out he knows too much—it would mean the end of the future that he dreams of.

So it’s comforting to see the monsters as creatures. As cats. If he thinks of them as just another normal part of the world that he lives in, he can accept their presence with little explanation.

Not that he’s giving up just yet. He’ll take Minho’s warnings to heart, but that doesn’t mean that just observing them would hurt, right? It could be just like watching the clouds or stargazing. If he does it with no one looking at him, he won’t get caught.

They don’t care about music. Jisung can sing as loudly or quietly as he wants, and they don’t stir. When he addresses them, they don’t listen. He figures he shouldn’t speak to them or name them anyway, considering that, you know, they suck out human energy. Whatever that means. Considering that some of them want to eat people.

He doesn’t like thinking about that. It makes him want to hide under his blankets and forget the world by curling up and writing EXchange fanfiction. Knowing that Minho frequently kills them feels comforting because it means he keeps him safe, but now it also feels saddening because they really are just creatures on this planet, doing their own thing. Like he is.

It’s just a lot. All of this is a lot, and he listens to Changbin’s new mixtape on loop on his way to work. He doesn’t spot any creatures, but he isn’t expending any energy on finding them either. 

He thinks about Minho. Specifically, he thinks about how he can pick him up. He’s so strong that he can carry him and pull him to his lap easily, holding his weight with his thick, sturdy thighs. Jisung almost gets lost in the fantasy of Minho grabbing his hips and bouncing him on his cock.

Hopefully the little creature sticking to his window at home really disappears with the sunlight. He can’t jerk off with it right there. It would be as awkward as having sex with cats around. Most cat owners get used to it eventually though, so maybe he’d get used to the creatures watching too. 

It’s human nature to adapt quickly. A survival mechanism, or something. Personally, Jisung prefers running away and never turning back to face any of the horrors that await him—that reminds him he hasn’t called his mom back in over a year—but some things are easier to deal with than others.

Like a big creature sticking to the ceiling of the convenience store. It’s round and bulbous unlike the many flat and almost two-dimensional ones he’s seen so far. It’s kind of ugly, actually, but he won’t say it out loud just in case it hurts its feelings. 

Maybe it’s human nature to cutify things that are scary, too. Many eyes concentrated on a surface aren’t very scary if they’re uncoordinated and goofy looking. And sharp eyes and high cheekbones and a sturdy walk coming towards him isn’t scary either, if he remembers the bunny teeth hiding underneath that intimidating smile.

“Jisungie,” Minho says. “How are you holding up?”

Jisung stops himself from giving his standard I’m fine answer, and takes a moment to think it through. Minho grabs some seaweed chips and hands them to him, squinting from the harsh lights and from having just woken up. The clock says it’s just about two.

“I think I’m fine?”

“What about him?” Minho nods to the creature on the ceiling. “I can take care of him if you want.”

He presents the choice so casually, like he’s offering to do the dishes for him, not to kill an entire living being. Morbid curiosity grips Jisung. Sorry, creature. “Okay.”

Minho joins Jisung behind the counter and grabs a stool to stand on, then stretches out his arms to the ceiling. His fingers touch the creature’s surface, the eyes closing like they’re being poked. 

“Come here,” Minho says to it, tickling its surface. Eventually it sinks down, unsticking from the ceiling and falling like a big blob of matte black paint. It makes an almost wet sound when it hits the ground. 

Minho crouches down to it and pets its head. All the eyes flutter closed. “There there.”

Minho is literally taking care of it, as gently as he would take care of his cats. He glides his hands across the creature’s body until it...melts? Jisung blinks, trying to grasp the changing form. The black absorbs all light, making it look like a void of nothing in Jisung’s vision. It disappears under Minho’s hands.

Minho claps his hands together and does a little bow, then walks back to Jisung.

“Not what I expected,” Jisung says. “Can I also make them disappear like you?”

Minho stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Hmm. I hope not.”

He doesn’t elaborate.

“Hyung,” Jisung whines. He stops himself from stomping his feet like a petulant child. He wants to know more, but the weight of the however many carats of diamond ring on his hand helps ground him. “You’re lucky your fiancé thinks your mysterious aura is hot.”

Minho bursts into a giggling fit, clutching his stomach. “You accepted our fake engagement pretty fast.”

“It’s less annoying than not being allowed to understand a whole new species of creatures.” Jisung puts a hand on his hip and presents the one with the ring to Minho. 

Minho takes his hand and presses a kiss to Jisung’s knuckles. The warmth of his soft lips shoots up Jisung’s spine.

“Thank you,” Minho says, looking at Jisung through his long, pretty eyelashes. Even tired and freshly woken up he looks drop dead gorgeous. 

“For– For what?”

“For accepting all of this.” He kisses Jisung’s wrist, right at his Star Children tattoo, turning Jisung’s knees weak. “I don’t tell many people, and it’s tough every time. I’ve lost relationships because of it.”

“You can thank my excessive anime watching habits for it,” Jisung says, trying to lighten Minho’s spirits. “I’m a little confused but in the end I don’t really mind if I’m– If we’re safe.”

“But will you be okay? I know it’s a lot–”

“I’ll be fine.” Jisung puffs his chest out. “The upside to having severe social anxiety is that other things seem less scary in comparison. Not that they’re not scary. I really don’t think that any creature needs to have that many eyes, and some of them have giant mouths and can eat me whole or suck me dry or whatever they do. But so can any human, technically.” He winks at Minho. “Plus they can’t judge me or have high and crippling expectations of me, so really, I can deal with them.”

Minho blinks at him. “You’re so weird.”

“I feel like I should be the one saying that.” Jisung holds Minho’s hand. “But either way, please don’t worry about me, hyung. It’s not like I can control anything that’s happening, so I’ll let it be and make peace with it soon.“

He isn’t great at cheering people up, but the smile that Minho gives him is so warm that he has to be doing something right. 

Minho steps closer to Jisung, pressing his back into the counter. Jisung blinks up at him with a flushed face, eyes dropping to Minho’s lips and how close they are. Are they going to have their first kiss? Jisung hasn't kissed anyone in years. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and fuck, his lips are probably so chapped–

“I won’t kiss you here,” Minho says, an amused glint in his eyes. “I just want to hold you.”

Which is somehow even worse for Jisung’s heart. He nods and holds onto Minho’s hoodie, bravely making eye contact even though Minho’s hands on his hips might make him explode. “Won’t you be late for...for work?”

Minho shakes his head. “Prime time is usually three am.”

Jisung could’ve guessed that. He had the feeling that the witching hour felt different somehow. It barely gives him any new information or understanding but he considers it a little win.

“Does my fiancé like sushi?”

The day after they set up a sushi and karaoke date for the weekend, they eat outside in the little seating space again, talking about the latest anime they watched. Minho offers him some of his beer and Jisung takes three sips before his face burns red and he admits that he’s a lightweight who doesn’t actually like beer, and that he just wanted an indirect kiss from Minho. Minho chides him for it but Jisung’s silly flirtation attempt seems to land well.

The creatures don’t bother Jisung. If any of them lay on the ground where he’s walking, he avoids them. Sometimes one or two little ones stick between the shelves at the store, and one time he had to grab a fist sized one and move it out of the way to restock things. Touching it felt weird and strangely cold, but its presence didn’t really bother Jisung. 

Just like that, they become part of Jisung’s routine. He still startles if a particularly big one seems to swallow a building wall whole, or blacks out a window he’s looking through. He finds one sitting on his favourite bench when he walks past the park. The first time he saw someone walk through a round one on the street he thought he was going crazy, until Minho confirmed that that’s normal. 

And so Jisung accepts it as normal. As his normal, at least. Jisung’s normal now consists of being slightly inconvenienced by seeing the presence of eldritch horrors, but alongside his night shift job and his sleeping schedule, it slots right in with all of his weirdness.

Minho’s day job starts around eight. Right after he finishes monster hunting—he told Jisung that that’s not really an accurate descriptor, but Jisung thinks it has a nice ring to it—he visits Jisung at the store and they spend the last hour of Jisung’s shift together. They flirt and banter, playing footsies under the table, telling each other stories about their day.

Minho insists that Jisung should show him the song that he’s working on. Jisung flails his hands and tries to talk him out of it, saying that it’ll be his first finished one and that therefore it won’t be very good, but Minho shushes him. 

“I don’t need it to be good,” he says, the crescent moon behind him matching his small smile. “It’s important to you, Jisung-ah. I want to hear it.”

Jisung cries when he arrives back home. He didn’t allow himself to accept how lonely he was up until now. He's always had Felix, of course, but he's a busy model. They also don't like the same shows, and he's not there to appreciate the effort Jisung puts into his outfits.

But Minho is there. He visits Jisung first thing in his morning, even when he doesn’t buy anything. He sits with Jisung at the end of his shift, even when they’re both just hanging out on their phones, Minho doing sudoku and Jisung showing him memes. 

He’s there for Jisung. They can talk and touch.

Jisung wants to show him what he’s working on, and he hopes that one day he’ll be brave enough to share. It would make him feel raw and vulnerable, since even Felix hasn’t heard his stuff yet. The possibility of having Minho praise him is enough fuel to work even harder.

Jisung’s new normal is so simple and good that he wouldn’t trade it for the world. As long as he has someone to be close to, someone who’s open about their affection and intent, someone who matches his pace and encourages a slow burn, he feels at peace.

The first challenge arrives in the form of Minho texting Jisung that a friend of his wants to join their karaoke date. He says that it’s one of his best friends, and he wanted them to meet eventually anyway. He’s sure Jisung will love him. 

Jisung agonizes about it. He wants to meet Minho’s friends. He wants to meet new people and be integrated into Minho’s life but...it’s been so long since he met anyone new. Minho doesn’t count, because he just happened to make it easy for him.

He doesn’t text Minho back. Old habits die hard, and Jisung is great at shutting down when something overwhelms him. 

The walk to work helps him not spiral about it. He plays spot the creature with himself, and counts four until he reaches the store, Shinee blasting through his headphones. During his shift he allows himself to play Changbin’s first album on a higher volume than usual, tapping his foot to the rhythm and rapping along under his breath to get some restless energy out.

Minho isn’t the type to get mad if Jisung says he isn’t comfortable meeting anyone new yet. Jisung can’t imagine Minho being mad at him for anything, now that he thinks about it. Sure Jisung saw him kill an eldritch being, but even that was done to protect him, so the memory doesn’t make Jisung’s heart race for scary reasons anymore. 

When he’s on his knees rearranging a bottom shelf, he finds a black little ball hiding behind the snacks. He grabs it, its familiar cold making him understand what he’s holding. 

The creature’s singular eye flutters open. It blinks up at Jisung like it’s confused that something disturbed its sleep. 

They hold awkward prolonged eye contact. The creature chooses to look behind Jisung, like it's the one that can’t handle the interaction currently. 

Holding what is basically a maybe sentient eyeball in his hand puts a whole lot of things in perspective. 

Maybe Jisung is a little silly. He’s more scared of human things than eldritch ones. There’s so many things in the world he will never understand, and he should focus on the things that he can. 

Minho, for one. Minho who he now shares a bond with, who has gotten to understand him well in the little time that they’ve known each other, and who he can trust if he says that he will love his friend. 

He apologizes to the eyeball and finds a dark, cozy corner of the shelf to place it in. By now he’s figured out that it’s not really sunlight hitting them that makes them disappear—even if they’re hiding in a dark crevice, they fade away when the sun comes out— but the creature closes its eye, and Jisung interprets it as a thanks. 

He sends nine texts to Minho explaining his whole thought process. He’s sorry for answering late, and he’s extremely anxious about it, but if Minho thinks he’ll have a fun time he trusts him and wants to meet his friend.

At around two, Minho texts him back.

You’re cute. Binnie is loud and sweet, you’ll have a lot of fun. 

Minho sends him a picture of a sleeping orange cat and asks Jisung to guess who it is. It’s Doongie, obviously, because Minho trained Jisung well with various pictures already. Jisung internally apologizes to Doongie because he’s not really looking at him at all. He’s mostly staring at Minho’s forearm. 

At home Jisung vigorously practices his singing. In the late afternoon he finds a basketball sized creature in the stairway and walks around it on the way to take out the trash. On his way back, he picks up the creature gently, bringing it inside his living room and setting it on the couch. Its many eyes are a great audience for his singing, and its general unresponsiveness is calming. It helps him feel more confident.

And then, because he can’t help himself, he sits down beside it and lays his hands on its head. Technically its whole body is probably the head, but what does he know. Slowly and carefully he caresses the surface and whispers to it just like he saw Minho do the last time. 

It doesn’t do anything.

He really shouldn’t take off the ring. But he does. In an instant, all the creature’s eyes snap open, its pupils laser focusing on Jisung and sending a shiver down his spine. 

They don’t close when he glides his hands across them. Nothing happens when he whispers to it. He puts the ring back on, and when Minho arrives during his shift, he tells him about his new companion, but doesn’t tell him about his attempt. Minho offers to remove it for him, and Jisung shakes his head, saying that it’s not bothering him, and that it is kind of cute. 

Minho calls him brave. When Jisung returns home, dawn breaks and the little creature disappears, leaving Jisung alone to jerk off to Minho’s praise.

Minho told him to dress well today, and that he’ll thank him later for it. Jisung had panicked a normal amount before he settled on a navy blue sweater and baggy jeans, complimenting it with a simple pearl necklace and earrings.

He sprints down the stairway when Minho texts him he’s there. 

“Jisung,” Minho greets him, staring at Jisung in a way that can only be described as dumbly. 

Jisung figures that means he looks good. 

It’s the first time they’re meeting in broad daylight. Minho is wearing a soft looking grey cardigan over a black shirt and nice jeans. Like inside the store, there's still a little crease between his brows, but way less intense. He, unsurprisingly, doesn’t wear any jewellery. 

“I got this for you.” Minho presents a little daisy the same way he presented Jisung the wedding ring, just that he looks even more shy now. He tucks it behind Jisung’s ear. “Perfect for a pretty boy.”

Jisung laughs, awkwardly but full of love. 

Going on a date with Minho is both just like he expected but also completely different. They met in the late afternoon and decided beforehand that it doesn’t have to be a long date, since Minho’s side job has him waking up every day and he can’t stay up too late.

They better be paying you well for that Jisung texted Minho that night.

Well enough to take you out was Minho’s reply.

It made Jisung blush a little bit, and then a lot. After they take a nice walk along the river and enjoy the warm sunlight and light breeze of the incoming spring, Jisung stands stunned in front of a very expensive looking sushi restaurant and karaoke bar combination.

“Hyung,” Jisung says, grabbing Minho’s elbow in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

“You say that now?”  

“Yes! This is way too much!”

Minho ignores Jisung’s protest and takes his hand to lead him inside. Jisung dusts off his pants and holds his head high, intimidated by the chic, dim modern interior with almost no customers inside. 

A waiter greets them way too casually for the atmosphere. He slaps a hand on Minho’s shoulder.

“Minho-hyung, I didn’t expect you today,” he says, smiling wide and bowing his head to Minho before his gaze lands on Jisung. “Oh, you must be the cute guy Minho told us about–”

“Jeonginnie.” Minho grabs his hand with what seems to be an iron grip, by how the waiter’s smile drops. “Is that how you greet your guests?”

Jeongin winces. “Sorry, sorry–” He wrestles his hand away and cradles it to his chest, giving them both deeper, proper bows. “Right this way, sirs.”

Jisung timidly follows Jeongin up the stairs with Minho behind him loudly complaining about Joengin’s posture. The intimidating restaurant atmosphere melts away with how casually Minho speaks to its staff.

They’re seated in a private booth in the corner of the second floor. There’s a little stage at one side of the room with karaoke equipment, much more fancy than anything Jisung has ever seen. 

Before Jisung can even panic about what food he should get, Minho pulls him to sit down beside him and orders for them both. Jeongin gives Jisung a smile, dimples on display, and exaggerates his bow to Minho which earns him a huff.

“So.” Jisung twiddles his thumbs, watching Jeongin leave. “Who was that cute guy that you told your friend about?”

“Don’t listen to Jeongin,” Minho says, waving Jisung’s question away. “You can’t trust anything coming out of his mouth. He used to eat sand when he was little. ”

Jisung likes it when Minho deflects while he’s obviously embarrassed from getting caught talking about Jisung to his friends. He didn’t even consider that MInho would tell people about him, since they haven’t known each other for very long yet. 

Minho has really been nothing but open and intentional about his advances.

Jisung lifts Minho’s chin and gives him a chaste kiss. Their lips slot together like puzzle pieces, Minho gasping between their mouths. This close he can smell Minho’s perfume—a faint hint of vanilla that matches the softness of the wool cardigan under Jisung’s fingertips.

“Sorry,” Jisung whispers, but he doesn’t mean it. 

When he pulls away he breaks out into a nervous smile. He doesn’t understand Minho’s expression, blank aside from the intense eye contact.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I don’t know what came over me. You were just really cute–”

Minho chases after his mouth, kissing Jisung and pressing him against the leather back of the booth. His lips are soft, but the pressure keeps Jisung pinned firmly. He grips the edge of the table and pulls Minho in even closer.

His mouth opens with a moan as Minho licks his bottom lip and–

“Your drinks!” 

Jisung startles and turns his face away, looking wide eyed at Jeongin. Jeongin has his eyes squeezed shut while he puts the drinks on the table carefully, feeling for the surface before placing them. Jisung can’t help but laugh from embarrassment, right until he catches another moan in his throat. Minho continues kissing the corner of his mouth to his cheek, down to his jawline, uncaring for Jeongin being right there. 

Joengin turns around blindly and speedwalks away. 

“Hyung,” Jisung moans when Minho’s teeth graze his skin. He leans into him, needing more, hoping they'll sink into his flesh. “We shouldn't, we’re in public–”

Minho takes a shaky breath, nosing Jisung’s cheek. “Just one more kiss, Jisungie.”

It sounds so desperate and needy that Jisung is compelled to nod. Minho wastes no time and kisses him again. Jisung has never been kissed like this before, soft but possessive, a hungry tongue dipping into his mouth teasingly. 

Minho pulls back and caresses Jisung’s cheek, fingers brushing Jisung’s ear where he adjusts the daisy. His eyes are half lidded and focused on Jisung’s mouth, telling Jisung that he’s not done yet, but he licks his lips and straightens himself anyways. 

He smiles at Jisung’s iron grip on his cardigan. “Do you want more, baby?”

Jisung hits Minho’s arm lightly and rests his forehead against Minho’s shoulder.

“Not here,” he whines softly, squeezing his legs shut. “If you make me come in my pants I’ll never forgive you.”

“You’re hard?”

“Keep your voice down!” 

Minho bursts into an addictive giggling fit, pulling Jisung in with his sweet voice. Usually Jisung would be mortified with how sensitive he is, but he can't blame himself for having a normal reaction to Minho almost biting him.

“We have the whole floor to ourselves,” Minho says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively while he sips his drink. “But I guess you don’t want your first time to be in a restaurant.”

Jisung cringes at himself, remembering how he confessed he was a virgin while he was under shock. “Do you bring your dates here often?” 

“Here? No, I like to get street food or order in. It’s faster to hook up after that way.”

Minho’s bluntness is so refreshing, even when it makes Jisung turn red. He’s not a prude by any means. He just takes longer to warm up to people, especially because often they expect him to take the lead.

It’s nice that he doesn’t have to worry about that with Minho. It’s nice that he doesn’t have to worry about many things with Minho. He might not know all of him yet, and there’s a lot to learn still, but he figures being privy to his darkest secrets—the whole monster hunting thing—has already bonded them well. 

“Is that what we’re going to do after?” He asks, winking bravely.

“Jisungie.” Minho brings his drink to Jisung, the rim of the glass touching Jisung’s lips. “I’m not going to rush you, you’re more to me than just a hookup.”

“I know,” he says with a smile. He takes a small sip of the sake and welcomes the fruity taste coating his tongue. With how Minho watches him drink obediently, he almost wants to down the whole drink, to turn the slow burn into scorching fire, to tell Minho he wants him so bad. “We’re engaged, aren’t we?”

Minho hums, leaning his cheek on his hand and watching Jisung fondly. “We are. How do you feel about that?”

“I know it’s for practical purposes,” Jisung says, “But it makes me stupidly happy somehow. I never thought much about marriage, but looking at the ring makes me reconsider my future.” He presents his finger, playing with the band like he’s gotten into the habit of doing. “No bad monsters can get me like this, kind of like you put a claim on me. It—And by that I really mean you— makes me feel protected and safe.”

Minho blinks at him almost a dozen times and frowns. “If you say that again I might propose to you for real.”

Jisung laughs, elbowing Minho lightly. “Don’t say that so lightly.”

“We already said I love you to each other, isn’t this the next step?”

“Hardly! But like, I’m not saying no. We can have a long fake engagement period where we get to know each other first.” 

“I’d like that,” Minho says in a small voice. It’s sweet how his features relax like he’s relieved by Jisung not rejecting his probably not serious offer. 

Jeongin walks up the stairs carrying their food, closing his eyes before he faces them.

“Should we tell him?” Jisung whispers to Minho.

“Nah.”

They both stay quiet watching Jeongin balance the trays professionally. He shuffles to them and stops when his leg hits the table.

“Stop making out for a second,” he says, placing everything down blindly and carefully. 

It’s impressive, really. 

“Ah,” Jisung lets a fake moan slip out, loving how Jeongin startles. “Minho-hyung, wait– Not there–”

“Ahh, why me,” Jeongin whisper groans, hurrying up and setting everything. He hits his leg on the table when he shuffles away. “Why me! I hate love!”

Jisung laughs his ass off when he’s gone. 

“He’s so cute,” he says, wiping away a tear. “Please remind me to give him a fat tip.”

“I’m paying,” Minho says a little curtly, making Jisung blink at him. The flush on Minho’s ears reaches his neck.

“Yah, don’t tell me that worked on you.”

Minho stays quiet for an incriminating amount of time. Just before Jisung can tease him about it, he stuffs a nigiri between Jisung’s lips. 

“Eat up, you slut,” he says, his soft tone on the degrading pet name making Jisung’s stomach swoop. “We’re going to be singing a lot soon. You need the energy.”

Jisung doesn’t really do a lot of eating, as it seems that Minho is very set on feeding him himself. Right after he finishes chewing one piece, Minho brings another to his mouth. 

Jisung would tease him about his eagerness if he wasn’t pathetically turned on by it. He loves being spoiled relentlessly while listening to Minho talk about where he knows Jeongin from. 

Minho says they auditioned for an idol company at the same time, then met again a few years later when Minho’s friend Binnie introduced his boyfriend Jinnie to him, who happens to be childhood friends with Innie. They like to “torment” Minho every few weeks, raiding his apartment and drinking all his soju. He loves them like family.

“Do you love your biological family?” Jisung asks, because by now he’s had a few sips of sake and he’s trying so hard not to be a little tipsy about it. 

“Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t.”

“Same, same.” Jisung nods sympathetically and raises a fist for Minho to fist bump. He may be a little tipsy. Just for some courage, since Binnie will arrive later, too. Minho doesn’t mind his silliness.

Jisung tells him about Felix. There’s a lot to say about him, like that he’s a model, and that he feels more like Jisung’s brother than his biological one ever was. He started dating a producer recently, and that’s around half of what he talks about now, but Jisung wasn’t ready to meet him yet even on call. The other half is League of Legends with Seungmin, whose friendship Jisung wishes so badly to rekindle, but doesn’t know where to start.

“I want to befriend them,” he says, staring at the window on the opposite side of them. A void of many unfocused eyes sticks to it, the pink neon light of an establishment outside getting swallowed by its blackness. “But it scares me more than those creatures. I also kind of feel like throwing up when I remember Binnie will join us. I wish I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way,” Minho says. Jisung turns to give him a judgmental look because he’s only ever heard that phrase in very passive-aggressive situations. But Minho looks serious. “You’re perfect to me.”

Minho has said it before, and Jisung realizes that it might be more than just flattery. “What do you mean?”

“I think you’re very brave, Jisungie.” 

“I just told you that I’m–”

“Let me finish.” It doesn’t sound aggressive like it might, coming out of anyone else’s mouth. It’s crazy how safe Jisung feels with him. “You’re scared but you’re still here today, and you didn’t even try to run. I think it’s admirable and brave.”

“I could still run.”

“Try.” Minho wiggles his brows. “You also just casually mention that you’re not scared of the creatures.”

“Why would I be? They can’t do anything to me, and I have you to protect me, too.”

“I love it when you say that.” Minho kisses Jisung on the cheek. “I said it before, but that you accept them means a lot to me. Binnie didn’t believe me the first time I told him, and once he realized that I’m serious he had nightmares for weeks. And he can’t even see them.”

Binnie sounds sweet. “Maybe he’s just a scaredy cat.”

“He is, but that doesn’t take away from how brave you are.” Minho needs to stop saying that. It’s exactly what Jisung wants to hear. “You’re here meeting my friends, you’re not pretending like the creatures don’t exist, and you’re treating me like a normal person. You’re perfect to me.”

“I think–” Jisung tries so hard not to cry. Surprisingly, he succeeds, hiding it by huffing out a laugh. “The bar is on the floor, hyung. You’re asking for way too little.”

“I wasn’t asking anything of you, Jisungie. When I open up to my friends, all I can do is hope for it to go right. I can’t control their reaction,” Minho’s tone tells Jisung he wishes he could, “so I just don’t tell most of them.”

All at once, it clicks for Jisung. Hiding a big part of your life must be incredibly lonely. 

“Oh,” he says. A too small reaction for what he now understands.

“You’re giving me your trust and friendship willingly,” Minho says, “even though I have to keep you in the dark about a lot of things. Then you act like that’s normal. You’re a strange little thing, and you’re perfect to me.”

Jisung buries his face in his palms. “Shut up. I’m gonna ugly cry now.”

“Okay,” Minho says, pulling Jisung into a warm side hug, pressing his cheek into his hair. “But you might want to be quick. I think you’ll kill me if you don’t look presentable for Binnie.”

Jisung sobs with a whine, shoulders shaking with how loved he feels. Somewhere at the back of his mind he’s grateful that he didn’t put on any makeup. “This is too much for me.”

“I can bring you home too, if you want.”

“No, I don’t.” Jisung wipes his face on the sleeves of his sweater stubbornly. “I want to meet your friend and sing badly with you and kiss you good night when you leave. Like a fiancé should.”

They finish their food, even though Jisung has to take breaks in between to sniffle. It takes him a pathetic half an hour to stop, but Minho never berates him and just dabs away his tears with a tissue occasionally. His grins turn into soft smiles as it gets late, already past his bedtime. 

“Aw,” Jisung coos at him with the confidence of someone whose eyes aren’t puffy from crying for an insanely long time. “Are you getting sleepy, old man?”

“A little,” Minho says with a yawn. “Wanna start without Binnie?”

Jisung never had a high quality microphone in his hand, and hearing his own voice through speakers that echo it all around the floor makes his legs weak. He’s never sung in front of anyone either, but as soon as Minho puts on a slow song and starts singing, all his stress melts away. 

Minho sounds like a fucking angel. Jisung is almost mad about it, but he can’t materialize any of the anger because Minho sits down cross legged on the stage and motions Jisung to join him, and together they sing and giggle, Minho rocking back and forth cutely.

Jisung hits Minho limply after he hits a great high note. 

“What the fuck, hyung,” he says into the microphone when the song is done. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re good?”

Minho shrugs, a little shy at being praised. “I said I wanted to be a singer.”

“That doesn’t have to mean that you’re good.”

“You’re way better than me.”

Right before Jisung can lunge at Minho and beat his usual confidence back into him, a new but familiar voice stops him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Seo Fucking Changbin says, shrugging off his jacket and pulling off his cap. “Let's do this!”

Seo Changbin is smaller than Jisung thought he’d be, but just as loud as he imagined. Jisung only spent an excruciating two minutes almost frozen on the ground while Changbin and Minho caught up, then introduced himself in a way that he will agonize over for many upcoming years. His demeanor yelled I’m a diehard fan, and simultaneously he wanted to yell at Minho for not warning him beforehand.

Minho made what were probably meant to be comforting kissy faces at him while he stood behind Changbin. He also gave Changbin bunny ears with his hand, treating him like he would any other friend. Then as soon as the awkward introduction phase was over, Changbin took over the song selection. Before Jisung even knew it, they were all taking off their shoes and butchering songs that were in a far too high key. 

It felt humbling to tell Seo Changbin about his music hobby. There he was, shuffling his feet and preferring to have eye contact with an eldritch creature that appeared on an empty table rather than with his conversation partner, but Changbin never made him feel lesser. 

It’s really true what everyone says about him. His kindness matches his skills. He’s nothing but curious and supportive of Jisung’s journey.

When Minho suggests that they should rap one of Changbin’s title tracks, Jisung almost kills him. Changbin loves the idea and goes down to buy some drinks first. For courage.

“Are you good without me?” Minho asks. 

Without Changbin’s boisterous voice, the silence is almost deafening. Jisung feels so energized he might never ever feel bad again.

“Yeah,” he says. He has so much to say and to thank Minho for, but adrenaline pumps in his veins, leaving him jittery and uncoordinated. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“Are you having fun?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That’s all I want.” Minho kisses him gently. “Do you want to come over tomorrow? Just us this time.”

Jisung almost trips on a cable with how he falls into Minho and wraps his arms around his neck, kissing him with all the clumsy earnest he can muster. “Please, I’d like that.”

“Hyung, I’m charging you double,” Jeongin interrupts them. “At least be useful on your way out and get rid of the thing blocking the entrance.”

Minho sighs dramatically. “So disrespectful.” 

He seems too tired to do anything else about it. Jisung kisses Minho again before he leaves to sleep at home. 

The three of them clean up and close up the place when they finish. Jisung declines Jeongin’s and Changbin’s generous offer to get a cab together. His apartment is just a few blocks away, and he hasn’t had a late night walk in a while. He does a big stretch and breathes in the fresh night air, the cold helping him sober up a little.

He needed a lot of courage. Courage that he found in himself after thinking of Minho’s generous praise, and after drinking the most he’s ever drunk in a few years. 

Rapping with Changbin hadn’t been easy, since he couldn’t keep up with the pace of the lyrics at some points, but he made Changbin laugh and that almost mattered more than trying to impress him. Jeongin joined them, another person with a voice of an angel that killed the ballads that they did but fumbled through the rapping. 

It’s the most fun Jisung has had in ages. 

His phone contacts grew by two entries. Changbin even followed Jisung back on his instagram account. Jeongin was too shy to share his page until Changbin bullied him lovingly into it. It turned out he’s a part time model, and when Jisung saw that he’s mutuals with Felix, Jisung internalized the saying it’s a small world for the first time.

“And now that we’re alone,” Jeongin said, many hours after Minho left. He had grabbed a chair to straddle backwards, trying to look intimidating. Jisung sat on the floor and blinked up at him with wide and probably sparkling eyes. They were both drunk. “Since you’re dating Minho-hyung, we have to lay out some ground rules.”

Jisung’s heart swelled while he listened to Jeongin speak about Minho. He didn’t take any of the and if you hurt him, we’re legally obliged to hurt you back seriously, because all he heard from Joengin’s drunken ramble was that he cared about Minho’s well being. While Jeongin went on and on, eventually turning to speak into an audience of a few little creatures gathering on the stage as it got late, Jisung leaned in to whisper to Changbin.

“Is he always like this?” 

“No, he just has a sweet spot for Minho-hyung.”

“Are they related?” Jisung watched Jeongin use his foot to roll a little creature into another one. They looked confused about it but fused almost instantly. Huh. “They can both see them.”

“They’re not. Different gifts, different families.” Changbin sounded like he quoted something one of them told him, probably. 

That there are different gifts was new to Jisung. 

Changbin read his face. “They barely talk about it and I don’t even want to know. It creeps me out.”

Jisung chose not to tell him that his hand was close to a little creature then. He just rolled it away gently. It fused with a bigger creature, their eyes merging into six.

“It can be hard, having to accept something unfathomable,” Changbin continued without Jisung really prompting him to. “I’m not proud of how I acted when Minho-hyung told me about it. I made him feel like he’s crazy. For all the wrong reasons.”

“I get it.” Jisung watched Jeongin lean on the back of the chair and snore almost instantly. “It’s a lot.”

Changbin shook his head. “No Jisung, you don’t get it. My brain almost broke trying to just believe Minho. It takes a certain kind of person to look at something unknown in the eye and say that it’s kind of cute. Minho told me about it.”

Jisung hid his face, embarrassed by having Changbin perceive that part of him, and happy about Minho talking about him. He couldn’t believe he was sitting barefooted and drunk on a little stage, with one of the people he admired the most praising him. 

Then Changbin asked the unthinkable.

“Do you want to grab a coffee sometime?”

Now, looking back at the evening, Jisung jumps up and down, reaching his arms up to the sky. The stars look more visible than ever, despite him being in the middle of the city. He grins as wide as the moon. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he says, out of breath from all the movement. He’s too overcome from an insane day to even pull out his headphones to listen to anything.

He counts eight creatures on the way to his apartment.

They feel more natural and real to him than successfully bagging himself a boyfriend slash fiancé and setting up a meeting with the rapper that he’s been idolizing for ages. 

Maybe what they said about him is true. Maybe he is brave, in his own strange ways. 

When looking at the big creatures up close, they remind Jisung of a packed crowd of people that have gathered to watch him perform, their gaze excruciating and focused. By now he knows they don’t hold human judgments or expectations, but his initial reaction is always fear. 

When he observes them from afar, protected by his ring, they look like the night sky. Dark and vast with twinkling whites in the void. A natural part of this earth and universe, a reminder of the ever present unknown.

Their presence makes him feel small. 

Ah, there’s the difference between him and Changbin. For him, there’s comfort in looking up at something bigger than himself. All his problems seem simple and small in comparison then, too. Even when it’s sharp eyes staring down at him like a hungry creature, or the warmth of a celestial, shining smile.

It’s terrifying. And if he’s honest with himself, it’s exciting, too. He wants to be a curious observer, connecting dots like star constellations if the creatures would let him. 

If Minho would let him.

He walks past his apartment building.

Minho has to let him. He’s been so kind to Jisung. Being there for him and nudging him in directions that will lead Jisung to the future that he wants. He smiles at him as softly as the moon glowing down on him, holds his cold hand, and kisses him like their engagement is real.

Jisung wouldn’t mind it being real. 

He finds himself in front of Minho’s apartment building, led by the moon and his empty stomach. All the fun that he had burned his energy, leaving him hungry again. 

Minho said he’d cook for him if he visits. He said—Jisung gulps—He said he’d fuck him if he was ready.

When they kissed, Minho’s lips were gentle, but no less insistent. They pinned him against the booth and took what they wanted. Minho’s tongue guided him skillfully, only giving him a little taste of what it could do. Jisung’s mouth feels empty without it.

He rings the doorbell, deciding that he’s ready. The door doesn’t buzz open. His phone battery died some time ago, but by how his skin prickles it has to be the witching hour. 

There’s a trail of blood leading away from Minho’s front steps. It’s scentless, and it isn’t foot shaped. He isn’t alarmed by it, probably because of the lingering buzz of the alcohol, and maybe because he trusts that Minho is doing a good job. He’s only upset that it trashes his theory of less aggression during a waxing moon. 

Jisung’s head isn’t pounding anymore. His steps are a little off balance, but he thinks he’s thinking clearly. He follows the trail and is led in the direction of the same alleyway where it all started. Where many eyes and a bottomless maw towered over him, where Minho pulled him close and protected him, where despite being faced with something incomprehensible his little life stayed simple.

When he turns the corner, there Minho is, back turned to Jisung.

Jisung walks to him, raising his hand, about to greet him, until he steps into something wet that emits a squelching noise. 

There’s a pool of blood under his feet. Its smooth surface doesn’t ripple under his movement, reflecting the moonlight and his own face tilting in confusion. 

Something pitch black drops from the sky, lunging for Jisung and covering the moonlight. 

A wet crack rings in his ear. Not the sound of something hitting the ground. 

He looks up, slow and delayed and too calm for what’s happening, finding Minho’s face close to him.

When Minho smiles down at Jisung, his eyes crinkle. 

All five of them. Two extra under his lower lashes, one vertical on his forehead. Blood runs down his temples and cheeks.

“Jisungie,” he draws out the last syllable, voice strangely distorted, echoing through Jisung’s ears but not covering the snapping and cracking of something solid beside him. “You’re too pretty to be bait. What are you doing here?”

A sharp, metallic scent hits Jisung’s nose. 

The veins on Minho’s neck are black. Jisung follows them under his shirt collar and finds them continuing down Minho’s arms, tracing a pathway of black pulsing rivers to his forearms and hands. 

His hand is grasping the head of the creature that lunged for Jisung, keeping it suspended above the ground. From the skull where Minho’s fingers hold it upright in a crushing grip, to the arms and legs that hang limply at its side, it’s human shaped. 

The many eyes littered on its void-colored body pierce through Jisung. The two eyes on its face look like they’re angry at him for killing it. Then they all flutter closed from top to down, as if Minho sucked the life force out of them.

Minho flings the body against the wall when he’s done. 

“Baby, are you okay? Are you drunk?”

Jisung rips his gaze away from the ragdoll shape of a body and is met with Minho’s normal face. Minho looks at him in concern, unbothered by having just killed something human. 

All his attention is focused on Jisung like he’s the only one that matters. Like he’d kill for him in a heartbeat.

“I’m okay, just tipsy,” Jisung says. “Those are different. The ring doesn’t work on them. They’re part human.”

He doesn’t bother to phrase any of it as questions.

Minho sighs in relief and pulls Jisung close by the waist, cooing at him with his normal voice. “Couldn’t find your way back home?”

His warm, blood covered fingers dip under the hem of Jisung’s sweater, digging in his skin possessively. Like they want to take.

It takes some seconds for Jisung to remember why he’s there. Just before Minho opens his mouth again, he sinks down to his knees on the wet concrete.

“Wanted to be with you, hyung.”

Minho blinks down at him in surprise, then tilts his head with a smile. He caresses Jisung’s cheek, smearing warm liquid on it and adjusting the daisy still tucked behind Jisung’s ear. Jisung didn’t know blood smells a little sweet, too. 

“Look at you,” Minho says. He tugs lightly at Jisung’s earring and presses a thumb to Jisung’s bottom lip. “So pretty on your knees for me in a filthy alleyway. Are you turned on?”

Jisung’s body buzzes. It’s different from how he feels when he’s drunk. A kind of shame burning inside him that only comes from enjoying something he knows he shouldn’t. 

“Yes, I’m sorry,” he says, pawing at Minho’s pants and pulls on the fabric slightly, mouth watering from Minho’s crotch close to his face. 

Minho towers over him, terrifying and kind, touching him so gently. 

“Ah, what should I do with you, Jisungie?” He pops his button and unzips his fly. Like music to Jisung’s ears. “You continue being perfect for me. Are you trying to make me keep you?”

Jisung nuzzles his cheek against Minho’s clothed bulge, hot all over with desperation. His cock aches. “Please, please.”  

If he shows him how much he wants it, he’ll take him home. Neither of them have to be lonely anymore. Jisung can handle eldritch horrors, as long as Minho calls him brave.

Minho pats Jisung’s hair and hooks a thumb in his underwear, pulling the waistband down. “If you choke I’m pulling you off. Go slow.”

Jisung looks up at him with big, wet eyes, trying to tell him telepathically that he likes the idea of choking. But the need to be good takes over. 

He mouths at Minho’s big cock obediently, licking his way to the tip and suckling gently. He’s never sucked dick before, but he already wants to drown in the salty and metallic taste. Make himself all messy and pretty for Minho. 

“So cute,” Minho says, too unaffected for Jisung’s liking. Jisung wishes he would just fuck his mouth and come down his throat. He can handle it. He was made to be used by him. “Do you wanna be here all day, or can you do better?”

The condescending tone goes straight to Jisung’s cock. He almost demands that Minho should just help him, that obviously he doesn’t know anything about the world nor about what he’s doing, but instead he slips a hand in his jeans and jerks himself off, not caring how pathetic it makes him look and sound around Minho’s cock. 

When he’s close, he sticks his tongue out and strokes Minho’s cock, hoping to have him come on his mouth and lips. Mercifully, Minho grips Jisung’s hair and wraps his hand around Jisung’s, taking control of the strokes and working himself until he comes all over Jisung’s face.

The warmth of being claimed and the ache in his knees make Jisung come in his pants right after. He breathes heavily, slumping his head against Minho’s thigh, rubbing his face against it.

Minho picks him up effortlessly. 

“Everything makes sense now,” Jisung says, wrapping his arms around Minho’s neck and leaning into him, letting himself be carried. “Your supernatural abilities are why you can carry me like this.”

“Wrong.”

“Please let me be right about something.”

Minho kisses Jisung’s come stained lips like a real gentleman. Gentlecreature. “You can’t be right, Jisungie, you chose to be with me after all.”

Jisung hums. “Then I don’t mind being wrong.”

“Your moon theory is right. The pattern of behaviour lines up, they get weaker and more docile in certain moon phases.”

“Wait, really?” Jisung perks up. “That can’t be. Today they shouldn’t have been that aggressive then, since it’ll be a full moon in a few days.”

“They weren’t aggressive.” Minho nuzzles Jisung’s nose. “I hunted this one down on purpose thanks to you.”

The shiver running down Jisung’s spine makes him brave enough to ask something that he should’ve asked a long time ago. “Minho-hyung, are we the bad guys?”

“Hm. Probably not.”

“Probably not?”

“I only kill if I have to. To keep others safe or to feed myself. Do you think that’s bad?”

“I guess not. But I think I’m heavily biased towards my fiancé whose come is currently dripping into my mouth.”

They reach Minho’s home, Minho carrying Jisung up the stairs even though Jisung insists he can walk. Minho tells him the code to his apartment to input before depositing him on the side of the bed that Doongie isn’t lying on.

“Don’t follow me during the night anymore,” Minho says, kissing Jisung’s forehead. “I attract more dangerous things than the harmless creatures you know.”

Jisung had a hunch, judging by the existence of human shaped creatures. Not just shaped, smelling like them, too. A real human body that was puppeteered by a void creature. Or something like it, at least. What does he even know.

“Is Jeongin like you?” Jisung asks when Minho returns with a damp towel, wiping Jisung’s face with more care than a creature covered in scentless and metallic blood should have. “Changbin says his gift is different.”

“The less you know, the safer you are.”

“I won’t ask any other questions if you tell me.” For like a week, at least.

Minho gives him a look that says he sees through his fib. “If you show me all your songs I’ll tell you.”

“All of them? For one piece of information? Forget it. I’ll just assume that Jeongin is part of the family that creates enchanted wards, while you’re– I don’t know. Security, or something.”

“Wow, Jisungie’s so creative.”

“I’ve watched enough anime and hentai for this,” Jisung says proudly, which then makes him wonder if Minho can have tentacles, which makes him hide his face in his hands. “Sorry, my brain was scrambled by you coming on my face I think. And by how I met Seo Changbin today. He’s really nice, did you know that? He invited me for coffee and I’m already so scared about it I could puke.”

Minho pins Jisung’s wrists on the bed beside his head. “You should only be scared of me.”

Dawn breaks over the city, and most of the blood on Minho fades away. Some stays.

“Then try harder,” Jisung says with a sleepy grin. He thinks about the job he’ll return to on Monday, the friends he’s freshly made, all the food and laughter he shared with Minho. “You make me nothing but happy and horny right now.”

He’s always been a simple creature.