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Hoseok hasn’t fed in a while.
Pursing his lips, he stares at himself in the mirror; his face is wan, skin stretched just a little too thin across his cheeks, eyes sunken in just enough to be concerning. Grimacing, Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face, face wipe rough against his skin; he reaches for his makeup, patting and swiping until he’s a little less gaunt. Tousling his hair until it covers his forehead, Hoseok glances out the window. It’s time.
Hoseok grabs for a light jacket, pulling it on to cover his thinning muscles–yet another side effect of not eating. Shaking his head, he exits his apartment, checking that it’s locked. He hurries down the hallway, nodding politely to the couple that passes him. Making his way down the stairs, he holds the door open for an old woman, giving her a gentle smile as she thanks him.
A wave of hunger pulses through him, making him sway slightly; Hoseok braces himself against the side of the building, sweat beading at his hairline. Gritting his teeth, he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the night market. If he can just hold out for a couple more minutes, he’ll be fine. The closer he gets, the more his hunger dissipates–the energy radiating off the patrons is enough for him to perk up, enough for his hands to stop shaking in his pockets.
He finds his favorite corner to perform, right next to a busking guitar player. They have an agreement, Hoseok and the man–the man will play faster tempos for Hoseok to dance to, and Hoseok will give him half the money he makes. It’s not perfect–the man often leaving after a half hour or so, and some nights Hoseok barely makes 50,000 won–but they’ve done it enough that it’s become routine.
He nods at the older man, watching as he readies the guitar in his lap; Hoseok gets into position, closing his eyes. He lets the notes ring out into the air for a few moments, head bobbing to the melody. Then, he springs into action. Eyes open, he spins and twists, body fluid as he follows the music; he can see people stopping to watch, a few clapping or letting out exclamations of shock as he contorts and manipulates his body. And the energy radiating off everyone–it’s heady, it’s filling.
He can already feel his body reacting, muscles growing stronger, cheeks flushing–he dips his body into a split, popping up after a moment. He could barely walk half an hour ago, and now he’s able to roll and bend his body like it’s elastic. Letting out a whoop of joy, Hoseok lets his attention wander a bit. He can see a couple of people recording him, sending them a wink or a smile as their eyes meet. But his attention is more so on the glowing, pulsing energy he can see exuding from people’s bodies. Little balls of multicolored light–a lot pink, some green, a few red, one yellow–he can see them, feel them calling out to him.
And slowly, oh so slowly, he siphons the energy from the crowd. It’s an instant relief on his body, feeling more himself than ever before. He knows to pace himself, as well–no need to rush through it, not if he doesn’t want unwanted attention later. Because it’s happened before, and it’s not pretty. Hoseok lets out a laugh, the tight feeling in his chest disappearing; he falls into position as the song ends, bowing as the crowd claps. A few people bend to place money in the bucket a couple feet from him, clasping his hands together in thanks.
He looks out at the audience, chest rising rapidly. A young man catches his eye for a second–he’s maybe a few years younger than Hoseok, hair parted to the side and pushed from his forehead. He’s tall, and built like he has some experience with dancing as well–Hoseok hopes the kid will stay a bit, so he can ask later. But the kid looks like–
Well.
To be honest.
It looks like the kid’s seen a ghost.
Frowning slightly, Hoseok glances around, eyes searching. Ah. Okay. Yeah, he can see it. A woman, also very young–her energy is a concentrated black hole, swirling slowly from her stomach. Hoseok’s frown deepens, eyes darting back to the kid in concern. His energy is a brilliant, bright blue–pulsing and enticing and calling out to Hoseok. He shakes his head a little, watching as the kid pulls a camera to his face. A small trickle of people block the kid, passing in front of him–they clear out, the kid and the woman both gone.
Pouting slightly, Hoseok turns back to the busker, giving him a nod to continue playing. Getting back into position, Hoseok lets go, letting his body move with the music. He does this for another hour, surprised the busker stays the entire time; he thanks the older man profusely, offering him the bucket as he gets ready to leave. Hoseok waves goodbye, walking through the crowds of the night market. He passes a few vendors that he’s bought from before, offering them smiles or a few words in greeting.
He makes his way back home, whistling a bit–he’s pleasantly full, so he won’t have to feed for a while. He was able to give the busker the whole bucket of money for a change, which was nice. But his mind keeps going back to the kid, and the woman. He’s only ever seen an energy like that once before, and he doesn’t want to know why she was focused on the kid like that–even if he can feel something drawing him to the younger man.
Shaking his head, Hoseok rounds the corner, approaching his apartment building. He takes the steps two at a time, helping a couple struggling with their stroller and grocery bags. He smiles at them, waving off their gratitude; he makes his way to his apartment, opening the door with a sigh. Flicking the lights on, he glances around the apartment, noticing the mess–an indication he’d let his hunger go too long. Angry at himself, Hoseok starts cleaning up, eyes flicking towards the window out of habit.
There’s a single light lit up across the street, someone pacing in their apartment. Hoseok isn’t one to pry–but he’s drawn like a moth, something almost compelling him to go look. Stepping to the window, he glances out, a strange feeling washing over him as he realizes–it’s the young kid from before, pacing in his apartment. And there on the street, head tilted up, is the woman.