Chapter Text
His breath lingers.
Everlasting.
Embedded, an inseparable part of his being just like any limb.
His skin craves him and his cold touches and his eyes demand for his warm smile.
His lips constantly search for their soft counterpart, his own being withered without him. His name is its only healing, his memory a falling plaster. Without him, he is torn to pieces; because of him, his heart has returned to stone.
"Geonhak!"
Sharp shards of silica lay scattered in the sink. Some decorate the other utensils while some pull red out of his fingers.
Without any further delay, Youngjo snaps him back into the menacing reality of the unfeeling pain of glass being uprooted. Sadly, the piercing pieces in his heart remain untreated.
"Geonhak, you have to be careful."
In their hollow apartment, Youngjo's hurried steps resonate against the thin, tainted walls and the quick sliding of wooden drawers and cabinets are white noise to him. Just like Youngjo's rants of worries. The pure white cotton captures the red liquid with no resistance.
Geonhak tries his best to acknowledge Youngjo's meagre attempt at making him crack even a tease of a smile.
"I'm really forgetful, aren't I? I told myself not to buy this soap. It's really slippery, isn't it?"
The best he can give him is a sad excuse of a chuckle.
The bandage is choking to his finger but he does not complain for nothing can replace the same constricting pull of the rusting chains within, wrapping themselves tighter and pushing the paining shards deeper.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Fingers crawl up his sleeves, thoroughly examining every centimetre of bare skin of his hands for any more cuts. Now, who would tell Youngjo his search was futile in comparison to the gashing wound left behind by him?
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Just check properly, in case."
"At most, I'll lose some blood."
With Youngjo worrying his pretty little head, Geonhak unintentionally let loose a smile as he tries to soften his grasp around his wrist which he kept shaking tumultuously, "Geonhak~ Please~"
Geonhak never failed to play out the scenario in his head: what if he did not have Youngjo? Would he still have been the pathetic shell of a human being that he was approximately two weeks ago?
"I'm fine. Trust me, okay?"
"I'll take your word for it," Youngjo sits back, his left hand shifting the first box aside, "So setting that aside, Professor Park will be taking extra time for the upcoming project tomorrow. I'll be a little late for lunch. I hope you don't mind. Or I can leave something in the fridge-"
"I'll come with you for classes tomorrow."
Youngjo is taken slightly aback, the blacks of his eyes double-taking the unshifting hunched figure who was staring down at his bandaged digit with great intent, "Yeah?"
"I don't think I can rely on you getting notes for you. It's about time I start going myself."
"My notes aren't bad, are they?"
Geonhak hates having to be reliant on Youngjo. Since the young age of five, the ideology of self-reliance has been deep inculcated and with the constant reminder of having to be looked on upon by his younger brother, he despises the man he has turned into.
Dependent.
His former self shredded to pieces.
Just by one person.
"It's not like that. It's just- I can't keep myself cooped up forever relying only on you and your schedule."
"Hey, it's not a burden or anything."
"You know that's not how I meant it," Geonhak takes a fulfilling breath in, exhaling equally fast, "I'm thankful for all your help until now. I really am. Without you..."
Without you, I would probably be tucked into a corner of my room with waterfalls lining my cheeks. All alone.
"I think it's about time I picked myself up."
Project submissions are the last thing on Geonhak's preoccupied mind. With two more weeks left before the deadlines, he should be worried. However, presently, other matters take precedence and being the sentimental person that he is, he does not want to host a pity party for himself any longer.
He was getting tired of looking at his long, discoloured complexion reflecting back on his clouded mirror.
"So I'll wake you up at six?"
Geonhak hums as he stands up to clean up the mess his disconnected self had created for himself, only to be stopped with Youngjo's ever-comforting words.
"Geonhak? Don't overthink stuff, okay?"
He turns back to sparkling pupils but he knows they do not hold wonder. They hold the dark concern. Trying to pierce through him and question him.
There is nothing left for Youngjo to shred. He has already been thoughtlessly ripped to thin, frail pieces.
It is pathetic, really.
He smiles, "I'll try."
-×-
The bed never lost its warmth.
Silent snores ring on Geonhak's ears with Youngjo being visited by the sweet temptation of sleep much faster than him.
Youngjo's bedroom has been missing its owner for the past two weeks, only seeing his face when he rushes in to grab some old, important lecture notes.
Suffering through his misery alone was not something Youngjo allowed him to carry on without interjection.
One of his hands rests in his jet black locks having fallen asleep while helping Geonhak bridge the world between reality and fantasy with caring pats and caresses.
He does not blame him.
Youngjo is a busy student running around campus to attend all his lectures, classes and meetings while also taking care of his melancholic roommate.
His breath, too, lingers but they are nothing like his.
His wistful heart is not the thing that keeps him awake but the foolishness of his entirety. His forlorn self.
He should be grateful that his bed is not empty, that he is not alone.
Like a deranged moth to light, solitude is all he seeks.
Detangling himself with much caution, Youngjo's fingers slip from his hair and waist which are rested back on the hard mattress.
Every surface Geonhak touches are cold like himself.
The evidence of life in the silent apartment is Youngjo and the slow creaking of the metal doorknob of the unlit washroom.
The subtle blue of the moonlight illuminates the pale marble floor and huddled figure of Geonhak in one corner.
He chooses not to turn on the tap. The sudden noise would attract Youngjo, he concurs.
The deafening silence is too much to bear, allowing for him to think and process.
He doesn't want that.
So he fills the room with the quiet sound of his whimpers as he tastes the salt on his thin lips. Somehow his tears feel colder than the ground he sits on.
His chest contracts in tandem, the black void replacing his once whole heart twisting and sticking all in. His lungs gasp for oxygen, racking in pain.
The line between pain and numbness blurs right before his leaking eyes as his quaking hands scramble to muffle his now louder mourns.
Distaste rides his tongue, not that of bile, but of the person who reduced him to this weakling, he had become. Yet he has not a single unpleasant word for him.
Flashes of red paint his right wrist, his teeth having had pierced through enough while attempting to shut himself off.
It hurt.
Everything hurt.
However, loving Seoho never hurt. It never should have hurt and it never did.
"Why does it now? Why does everything hurt now?"
Geonhak cries into the night, inattentive to the shuffle of feet stopping at the other side of the door.
Youngjo had done his best to avoid this sort of situation from occurring with Geonhak going as far as to substitute himself in all the vacant spots left behind by Seoho. The reality for him was that Geonhak needed to let everything out, all alone.
As for Geonhak, the cruel reality was that as much as anyone tried, which included himself, no one could ever replace Seoho.
He was destined for infinite seclusion.
-×-
Adjusting himself to the rigidity of classes was blatantly obvious to all of Geonhak's friends. Accustomed to the ever welcoming comfort of his soft duvet for more than two weeks, his eyelids struggle to tape themselves over the heavy dark circles under his veiled whites.
It was a wonder how such a short period of time could completely flip his entire routine.
"Good thing I took notes, huh?"
Geonhak feels a nudging elbow at his bicep that had transformed itself into a temporary pillow, the sleeves of his hoodie making him complacent to sleep along with the monotonous tone of the professor.
"Huh?"
He rubs his eyes awake to the harsh lighting of the bright lecture room, the fading light of the evening not sufficient enough for the steadily blinding students.
"Come on! Get up, sleepyhead!"
Notwithstanding his height, Hwanwoong's blows are highly impactful to his steadily shutting body. The worrying sounds of his thin bones cracking with a few abrupt stretches cause concern.
"Wow! Just two weeks without dance class and you already sound like you're going to retire. Are you even coming today? Looking at you, you'll fall asleep with the warm-ups themselves."
In all honesty, Geonhak needed rest but he finds himself slinging the black strap of his bag across his chest, following the sprinting unicorn hair out of the lecture room.
"I'm coming. I can't skip class anymore, otherwise, they'll start cutting my credit."
Customarily, the duo is the first to push open the frosted glass doors of the vacant dance studio, the mirrored wall reflecting the hollowness of the thin room graciously provided by their university.
Hwanwoong sprints towards the light switches, the hovering tube lights flickering one by one.
"Well, that's what you get for taking a trip in the middle of the semester!"
"Right. The trip."
Spending time with (and apart) Seoho had made Geonhak forget that their relationship was not on display for the public. If he were to trust Youngjo and Keonhee, they had kept them a secret from all their friends.
Even the fact that the reason he was missing for two whole weeks was not that he was moping in his dreaded misery but, infact, full of joys of spring back in his hometown.
"Also, did you and Seoho plan to go for a trip together cause he's also been missing for the past two weeks."
"He didn't come too?"
"Yeah. His dorm mate- Keonhee- if I remember well- told me he's gone to visit his parents."
Youngjo had covered for the both of them.
"One hell of a trip if you ask me."
Hwanwoong snickers lowly as the scheduled steady flow of students crash into the studio with a minute left on the clock for class to begin.
"I don't know."
Geonhak wishes he was as aloof as he sounded. His limbs tight from being curled up for so long aren't the only ones being stretched mercilessly. His silent winced earn a snicker from Hwanwoong who was effortlessly right angling his feet with his left foot resting against the cold metal barre.
"Well, you should. He's your partner and the final choreo submission is in a week."
"We've choreographed everything. We just need to practice."
A few classmates entering pass by with a cursory nod.
"So you'll be practising alone?"
"Don't have an option now, do I?"
"Call the idiot. Tell him to come back by tomorrow if you don't want to fail class."
Little did Hwanwoong know that within the time span of the past two weeks Seoho's contact was the only one that hugged Geonhak's logs; aside from Youngjo.
Granted they were from the initial days rather than a spread-out graph.
"I'll see," he mumbles upon seeing the instructor push past the transparent doors.
-×-
"Geonhak."
The addressee looks up from his strawberry pastry topped with a little cherry on top to the disapproving knot of eyebrows of Youngjo.
He senses a neverending lecture directed his way, and already having had a tiresome day at university, Geonhak takes a sip of his brooding dark coffee.
"What?"
He was not in the least bit interested in what Youngjo had to say and with his enticing talk with Hwanwoong about the absence of his partner approximately an hour ago, he was in no mood for human interaction.
Being a blurred face in the masses of the cafeteria was all he asked for.
"I know you're trying to avoid him but don't let this hinder your usual life."
"What are you getting at?"
With a cock of an eyebrow, Geonhak diverts the direct statement into a grey area but Youngjo is much to cross to take the bait.
"Hwanwoong messaged me. You can't practice your duet alone. Your marks depend on it."
"It's not my fault that he didn't come, is it?"
Geonhak takes a bite from his purchased confectionery hoping it would give him the sugar rush to steer clear from this conversation.
"Confront him."
Geonhak appears cold and untethered from outside but Youngjo was not one to be fooled having seen the hidden cracks of his facade. He confiscates the pastry eliciting groans from its owner.
"Geonhak, you know him more than anyone. You should know that he will not come out until you, and only you will pull him. You two need to sort things out."
An image of thin blowing white overshirt flitters in front of Geonhak's eyes along with the loud thumps of the converse dashing across his living room floor. His ears ring loudly.
"He's the one who ran away when I tried to talk."
Geonhak knows to avoid Youngjo's expression solely from the heaviness of his exasperated sigh.
"Then confront him at his dorm. He won't be able to run from there, will he?"
By no means was Youngjo entitled to advise the broken couple. Any other person would have been wary of his present situation; having to play the middleman between his closest friend and his ex who he barely knew aside from a few encounters whenever he would wait for Geonhak outside the university dance studio. The smile he gave the other whenever they were due to part was not difficult to decipher.
In the end, Geonhak broke the news to him.
"I just- I don't want everything you worked so hard for crumble down just because you two refuse to talk to each other."
Geonhak had worked hard for this relationship. Starting with hiding his growing feelings for him from everyone.
Though Youngjo was not easy to deceive, he had done a pretty commendable job at hiding the fixed stare he would levy on him whenever he walked into the studio.
At first, he assumed he was just intrigued by Seoho, in the sense, he was a new face to him. However, that theory was put to the bin when he came to the realisation that for the entirety of his freshman year of university the first few minutes of the class would be spent looking out for Seoho to enter the studio.
Once, Seoho had sensed the infiltrating gaze eyeing the exposed band of his dance belt rounding his slim waist. One with his routine, he had failed to realise that the elastic of his black tights had travelled an inch down. No doubt, Geonhak was more than just embarrassed upon being caught; he was ashamed at essentially ogling at the dancer in the middle of class.
Shameless, he chided himself.
Worse was when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder as he turned to the storage closet being given the duty of clean up. All alone. Hwanwoong and his friendship remained to be tested, however, Geonhak was not one to grumble about his shortcomings for too long. Discarding his sling to a dejected corner, after apparently seeing the last body leave the studio, his steps led to the storage closet.
Too drained to pick up the mimicking steps and human following his very moves, the hair on his arms stand at the sudden touch.
"Hey."
Seoho smiled back at him, his marigold orange hair increasing the intensity of induced brightness.
"H-Hey," he stuttered as he took a step back in surprise, his heel colliding with the base of the broom in the closet leading it to kiss the wood laminate flooring.
He was pathetic, really. Maybe he should have chided Hwanwoong for leaving him to make a fool of himself of his unlabelled crush.
"Let me help?"
Seoho bent down to retrieve the fallen broom to be stopped by a tight grip of fingers guarding his wrist.
"Seoho, it's okay. It's my duty today."
"Oh? You already know my name? I don't know yours though?"
Even though Geonhak exceeded him in height by a mere few centimetres, he felt small and cornered in the vastly empty studio. It was pitiful how his mouth was as cold as his feet in such an ironic situation wherein he was under the tight scrutiny of the other with his shining, curious eyes.
Geonhak might have learnt the name of the boy, however, he took a wild guess of his major being BioTech with his calculating eyes so full of energy to explore. The education major, himself, felt exposed.
"Geonhak."
Soft and supple are the most suitable words to describe every part there was to Seoho, his curving lips as charming as his crescent eyes. Geonhak was too spellbound, wrapped around Seoho's thin fingers to stop him from reaching for the discarded broom. The first of him letting Seoho have his way with him; not that he minded.
"Are you sure? You must have some work- I can handle-"
"Geonhak," his mere two-syllabled name pranged his frail heart after striking and enduring past his hard exterior. Seoho and his honey-sweet voice were too good to be true; and that being the first time that he was the direct recipient, as opposed to his eavesdropped conversations, Geonhak wished to listen to his melodies all day. But, not then. Maybe when he sleeps?
Right then, he was too much of a flustered mess to face Seoho head-on.
"It's no problem. Really! Plus, I wouldn't have offered my help if I was busy."
His hand palmed his neck at the realisation of being cornered into submission, "Right. Thanks."
"No problem."
Geonhak had regretted his decision. Thoroughly.
The hanging silence between them was killing him. This was not a good first impression. He wanted to start some sort of conversation, anything really. However, apart from being dreadfully shy, he was also painfully oblivious of the other's topics of interest; not wanting his hypothesised ice breaker melting before it even began. The only thing they had in common that he was aware of was dance.
Say something, anything was the only phrase Geonhak's mind kept on a menacing replay.
Maybe he could ask him about his own history with dance?
No, it was too intrusive for a stranger. A little too much on the personal side.
Under no circumstance would he further allow himself to be embarrassed in front of Seoho.
Something casual, maybe? Like...his major!
Consumed by excitement, he did not think to bar his lips and turned towards Seoho's back on the other side of the room who was busy leaving the mirrors squeaky clean.
"Hey, Seoho?"
"What's up?"
Geonhak froze with an antagonising wave of deja vu making him nauseous.
The blasted dance belt. With the owner on his toes to reach the higher levels of the mirror, Geonhak was left with quite the view and a thoroughly scorched tongue and throat.
Should he warn him about it? Or should he just leave it to Seoho's realisation?
Geonhak doubted the span of the latter choice and he was not sure if he had got a change of clothes with him or he would walk through university towards the opposite dorms in his exposing fit. The students of his university were not exactly mannered.
Well, he had stared before, but the guilt still remained.
It was not the same as those hooligans.
"Um- Your- your dance belt is- it's showing. You should..."
Seoho stretched over his shoulder and parted his lips in understanding. "Oh? Thanks. I didn't even realise."
Geonhak had wondered why his followed chuckle was that of amusement and his smile was persistent.
He got his answer soon after as he flicked the light switches to their resting position.
"You're nice," Seoho stated as he lightly elbowed his waist on their way out; a long walk towards the dorms.
"Huh?"
Geonhak looked down at the smiling male sipping at his water bottle, respectfully declining his previous offer for some. The abrupt compliment left him in a range of emotions.
Maybe he had impressed him? And his heart had swelled at the thought.
He was brought back to Earth within the next second.
"I thought you were just a creep but you're alright, I guess."
"Creep?" A realisation. "Wait, is this about-"
"When you were staring at my dance belt during class?" Seoho cruelly completed with his flat affect, but a smile threatened to break through, "Yeah. I didn't want to share a class with a creep-"
"Hey! Stop calling me that," Geonhak huffed his obtrusive long black bangs out of his eyes, "I wanted to tell you but till then you had already figured it out."
To his immense relief, Seoho broke out in a laughing fit. Holding his aching abdomen from the unstopping flow of giggles, he rested himself on Geonhak's shoulder. He had just not felt his heart stop.
"Sorry, I'll stop. I'll stop," this time he elbowed his arm, "So what's your major?"
-×-
Geonhak wants to listen to his feet and take off in a plume of dashing smoke being one to dislike confrontation. Damn, Youngjo. He should have never taken his advice. This was so unlike him, however, he would rather eat a rock than admit that his words were just the push he needed to lead him here for answers.
To hear his voice once again.
"Geonhak?"
His heart drops to see Keonhee answer the door, however, he was not going to turn back. Not after finally gathered enough willpower to reach here.
He has nothing to fear. His heart has already been broken. There and then, he is just there for his dance partner. He only worries about him for his final project submission.
"Seoho's in, right?"
Keonhee's lips turn thinner as he tightly pursed them together and Geonhak does not need words to understand that his endeavour was fruitless. Of course, Seoho will not meet with him. He did not do so when Geonhak demanded an explanation before, why would he now-
"Geonhak."
Seoho has barely eaten, Geonhak deciphers with just a passing glance at the only patch skin being his lean calves supporting his thinning body. Something the baggy grey hoodie was terribly inefficient at hiding. The bags under his affectless eyes seem deeper and heavier than when he had last seen him and his complexion is equally pale and lifeless.
His Seoho; the little ball of quick-witted sunshine, the one he had fallen in love with was nowhere to be found.
His voice is barely above a whisper as he tugs on Keonhee's arm, gently pulling him from his guard at their dorm room, "Keonhee, I can handle this."
Geonhak has known Seoho for too long. Many people label him as novel, quirky, unpredictable, eccentric even. However, Seoho is ultimately human and requires no instruction manual to be understood.
Aside from his tilted posture favouring the interior of his dorm and his fidgeting fingers struggling to find peace amongst themselves, Geonhak looks right through his stitched up smile and frowns. He fears him. How had the time come where Seoho was the one who was feeling cornered, no escape from the towering being?
"I read Hwanwoong's texts," he starts and Geonnhak fears that his little breaths wasted will lead to him falling to the ground, his greying complexion betraying the owner's weakness, "I'm sorry. I'll come from tomorrow onwards."
He waits. He gives him time. He'll be patient just this once again.
However, Seoho turns.
Not in his direction. Inside his dorm.
The sympathy and concern take on the shape of the anger which he had thought he had long sublimed and before the door clicks shut, Geonhak jams his hand. Seoho stops dead all his movements, his gaze tilting reluctantly towards Geonhak through the gap created.
"That's all?" Seoho flinches at the harshness, "That's all you've got to say-"
"Seoho, just check on the laundry?" Keonhee produces himself from the kitchen to guide Seoho further into their shared dorm, his hand linking with his dainty fingers to pull him aside from the steadily progressing aggression at the entrance while shooting a directed glance indicating that he would explain soon enough.
"R-right," Seoho stammers in his meek octave, not sparing Geonhak one last stare.
Seoho disappears without a word.
Again.
Geonhak feels his blood boil hotter than over the past two weeks when his mind ran a little too far in his few moments of isolation.
Keonhee returns without Seoho clinging at his shoulder like a feebly, scared child, meeting with the keyed-up individual at his door with a defeated sigh as having gone through the same procedure even if it was his first time coming here, "Geonhak, give him time."
"Were two weeks not enough?" he rebuttals with pace, "Two whole weeks-"
"Geonhak, you don't understand," Keonhee tries his fullest to keep his own voice at level, almost pleading with him to put himself in Seoho's shoes, understand the pain he has gone through at the same time as him, "Seoho's cried. Every day for the past two weeks."
However, Geonhak does not care to empathise. More like he could not get himself to.
"Then why doesn't he talk? Why is he keeping shut?!"
With the last smite, he storms off against Keonhee's calls to stop and listen to him, but he did not want to hear an explanation from him.
He wants to hear it from him. From Lee Seoho.
-×-
There was a series of doors beginning opened and slammed shut in Geonhak's dorm and in the end, he ends up locked in his room, grateful for the fact that Youngjo was currently attending his classes. He would not have taken kindly to his heated temper leading to a few kicks and punches to the vulnerable furniture pieces across the dorm.
"He's cried?! You think he's cried," Geonhak screams in hurting rage into the emptiness of his room, his own voice ringing clear in his ears. A few tears form at the back of his eyeballs and for once he does not stop them from falling out.
Seoho had cried, he can too.
He felt pain too, didn't he?
His breakdown is eventual and heavy. He had no one to blame but himself. His foolishness to fall in love, to be so thoroughly swayed by a human has lead him back to square one.
Lonely. Forever.
As his destiny proclaimed.
Something he had tried so actively to fight against; to bend and not follow through with his instincts.
In the beginning, he cared for none but his hunger as he saw humans seemingly fickle and ravished them to satisfy his needs.
Staying beside humans had much more of an effect than he desired. As did they grow, so did Geonhak as he gradually learned to quell his thirst and control his instincts.
Besides other things.
"I'm not human so I don't feel, right?" he yelled his misery to himself.
Fucking humans had fucked him up.
As an incubus, he was immune to the mundane idea of emotions seeing that his kind was in no need of such hindrances while they quenched their thirst.
At least, he thought he was immune.
In an iron denial, in the beginning, he had gradually come to with fact that he felt affect, that the so-called petty emotions were worth something to him.
Granted, he vowed never to love. Nothing good could come out of that. Both parties were sure to leave scarred and damaged.
Once again, Geonhak had broken the boundaries.
For the centuries he had travelled the world, none had enticed him as much as Seoho did. His petite figure hiding his toned muscles that were thoroughly on display during their dance practices. His snide giggle hiding the mischief behind them charmed all but especially Geonhak and his instinct.
Planning to befriend the overwhelmingly intriguing human out of curious wonder, Geonhak had no intention to laugh when Seoho did, comfort him when he was down and most importantly kiss him back when Seoho pressed their lips together before bidding him goodnight. His duffel had fallen to the ground as his arms wrapped around his waist almost as if he were afraid that if he wouldn't, Seoho would vanish into thin air. He full-heartedly believed that the moment before him was a figment of his fatigued mind playing tricks on him.
When had Seoho become his prime focus of attention, Geonhak did not know. He only knew that despite him breaking his sacred rule for Seoho he would allow love to consume him and keep his hunger at a distance.
However, humans are just as selfish as incubi in terms of sex. When high on greedy wants, they would set their eyes only on the ultimate prize and nothing else.
Being too kind and considerate of a human to impose, Seoho had never pushed Geonhak into playing along with his desires upon feeling his slightly reluctant kisses if his hands happened to travel anywhere below.
Geonhak had been around humans for far more than centuries, continuously observing and studying along with them. As much as sex was a need for his kind so was it for them, albeit in a varying amount.
After much deliberation with himself, he decided that he would give into both their desires for a night and subdue their hunger.
Although Seoho had tried to contain his eagerness as Geonhak latched further down from his lips onto his pale neck, leaving hints of purple in a trail, the incubus could feel the long-held repression in the whimpers leaving his swollen lips, his name slipping past every fraction of a second.
Seoho was heavenly. Simply heavenly.
For someone who loved pulling his leg from time to time, he felt absolutely no shame in any position Geonhak got him under, responding so very well to every finger turn and every thrust.
Pliable in the most wonderful manner, Geonhak was tempted to go harder.
Seeing his lips pursed closer and eyes stitched shut in their little curves lined tenderly with tears, Geonhak leaned down to kiss them away.
"It's okay, Seoho. It'll be okay."
A small nod from him reassured him that his love was still able to handle him, however, his relief was short-lived. Seoho's fluttering eyes shuttered wide open along with his lips in something that could only be described as pure and horrific fear.
Dazed, Geonhak paused his movements as he reached for Seoho's cheek only to be brushed away.
The mirror lining the wardrobe door across the room highlighted his overbearing pair of ghastly tethered wings and his equally dark curling horns erupting from their origins.
Decades of pent up hunger with Seoho as a trigger had forced him to become the ravenous demon he was, his true form coming to light.
Seoho shifted back against the headrest as the same quivers of his whispers that would forever haunt Geonhak left his petrified lips, "W-What are you?"