Work Text:
Kang Seokyoon.
The new tenant.
If Jongwoo could describe him in 5 words, it would be…
1.Young
One, two, three knocks. Jongwoo snaps his head to attention. Who could it be at this hour?
“Who are you?”
The writer asks, his voice monotonous, eyes fixated on the door.
“Hi?” The voice of the culprit of Jongwoo’s disturbance calls out, a man’s voice, an unfamiliar voice.
“I’m the new guy across the hall.” The stranger starts, “By any chance, may I borrow your charger?”
A new guy? Jongwoo wasn’t expecting this. Just right after a few days since the gangster left and there’s a new person?
Strange. But Jongwoo guesses it should be normal, it is Eden after all.
Jongwoo lets his thoughts drag the time, staring blankly at the rotting door. Could it be a trick by those demons? To lure him into the lion’s den, to eat him alive?
In any other circumstance, greeting someone with a weapon behind your back would be insane but this was different. This was Eden. Jongwoo can’t- won’t waste his chances. No one here could be trusted and if there’s no one who will protect him, he’ll do it himself. Survival instinct, he convinces himself, glancing at the knife.
“Excuse me?” The stranger calls out again.
Jongwoo evens his breathing, stilling his thumping heart from escaping his ribcage. The knife remains in a steady grip behind his back as reluctantly opens his door, a sliver of light, illuminating the man.
“Hello.” He says bowing slightly, a warm, bright smile etched on his lips. The shine in his eyes glitters like a little puppy, almost giddy with excitement.
The writer observes silently, unamused over the man’s cheerfulness and how young he looks. His face, his body language mirroring an innocence of a 4 year old boy, eyes sparkling as if he knows a secret. Jongwoo really wasn’t expecting that.
Jongwoo doesn’t take another minute to observe him, preoccupied with wanting the man gone.
“May I help you?” He asks, a cold sternness to his voice.
“Oh, hi.” He says, fingers reaching the back of his head to fiddle with his hair. Eyes fidget as he sheepishly drops his arm down, meeting Jongwoo’s eyes.
“I have to use my phone later in the night, but I don’t have a charger. May I borrow yours?”
The writer raised an eyebrow, biting his lips shut. He doesn’t bother answering the man, choosing to shut the door instead. It takes a minute for him to plug out the charger from the wretched socket. He could hear shuffling outside, seemingly as if Seokyoon was returning back to his room.
As he opens the door, he finds out his thoughts were right as he’s greeted with the man rushing around like a puppy returning to its owner.
“Thank you!” The man exclaims, holding onto the charger, looking up to Jongwoo as if he had done a miracle.
Their first encounter ends with more mumblings of gratitude and thanks alike from the new neighbor. Jongwoo closes the door, sighing in the process. The light switch is flicked off as Jongwoo flops his body flat on the bed. A yawn escaped his lips, eyes tearing up from exhaustion.
Maybe it was because it was a long day or the fact that the new tenant seemed nice, almost safe enough to be an actual friend, made Jongwoo fall asleep easily, mind unusually empty.
- Bright
“Ah, Hyung?” He calls out. “Hyung-?”
Jongwoo takes his eyes off Moonjo’s back, turning his body around. His body is still stiff over their encounter but he calms his heart yet again, looking up to see what Seokyoon wants. The younger man stands with another warm smile, eyes sparkling again.
“If you don’t have any plans, do you want to come and see me perform?”
When Jongwoo says yes due to the fact he’d find any chance to escape from the residence, Seokyoon’s eyes light up brighter than ever before. A dazzling smile appears on his lips that even Jongwoo could feel the corners of his mouth tug up a little.
His resemblance was uncanny, he really looks like a puppy, ears perked up.
They arrive in a park, crowded with more people than Jongwoo would like.
“My gosh, I’m really nervous. The man starts, “But I’m really bad haha, so don’t expect too much.”
Jongwoo reassures him with a smile, waving his hand around which seems to calm the man down who laughs in return.
As the music started playing, all eyes were drawn to Seokyoon. A crowd slowly starts to form, surrounding the man as he performs. The sun is his spotlight and he shines like a star, as if he was made for performing.
The writer watches him in awe, amazed by Seokyoon’s confidence. Knowing that their ages were only two years apart made Jongwoo wonder if he could also be like him. To do what he wants to do.
All eyes were on him, glued to him and only him. His rap seems to flow naturally, his body language telling Jongwoo he’s comfortable, familiar in a crowd’s presence. He’s really admirable, the writer thinks, smiling a genuine smile as Seokyoon glances in his direction.
Jongwoo claps as the crowd does, the sound ringing loudly in his ears. The writer really didn’t expect it but he truly enjoyed the performance. Seokyoon rushes up to him, again, looking for Jongwoo’s approval and the writer grants it, complimenting him with a smile on his face.
The man seems to light up, brighter than Jongwoo thought he ever could.
A part of Jongwoo envies the man, seeing how innocent he is. Like a reflection of his past, what he used to be.
An optimistic person, a person who still dreams.
- Comforting
Although it had only been a few days since they met, it was as if Jongwoo knew him forever. It was easy to talk to the man, to relate to him. To find out that Seokyoon also had to go through life like him made him less alone.
If Jongwoo was being honest, he appreciated the man’s company. Grateful for it even.
The longer he spends time with him, the fondness he feels for the man grows. It was hard not to like Seokyoon with his radiant personality and shining smile.
Seokyoon’s presence was different, refreshing.
“Good morning, Hyung! Did you sleep well yesterday night?” The man exclaims, the familiar shining smile plastered on his face.
Jongwoo remains silent for a while, letting his brain catch up to the simple question.
The writer looks up, smiling, nodding at the man.
Sleeping, which used to be a chore, seemed to settle in his restless body much more easily now, he realizes.
Jongwoo wouldn’t admit it but waking up to the younger’s greetings everyday was something he looked forward to.
As cliche as it was, Jongwoo felt like Seokyoon was his guardian angel.
It was getting easier, much more bearable to go through everyday. It was nice knowing that he could come back home to distract himself from his shitty job and the place he lives in.
It was nice to finally have someone to listen to him properly. Someone to be with, someone to laugh with. Someone to take care of and someone who takes care of him.
Knowing he had Seokyoon on his side, he was happy to ignore the fact that the residents of Eden have been getting more fidgety, especially a known dentist.
Jongwoo watches the time pass by on the office clock again, tempted to drive a nail in his head. Fuck his job, really.
As the last second of office hours tick away, he’s out before anyone could stop him, or as a fact — say anything for that matter.
Jongwoo waits patiently for Seokyoon’s usual text to pop up, walking to the place they would always meet after work. He’s aware he’s gotten way too comfortable with expecting Seokyoon's messages but as expected, a text appears.
However, instead of the warm message he was familiar with, a picture of the pervert standing in front of his door greets his eyes instead. Jongwoo pulls his phone close to his face, eyes glued to the screen, mouth hanging dry.
Why the hell is he standing outside his room like that?
Before Jongwoo could reply, a new picture is sent to him, the cold empty eyes of the creep now staring at him. The picture is slightly blurry as Seokyoon was rushing to take the picture, probably shocked to see the man facing him.
The writer could feel his heart quickening in pace, sweat sticking on his skin as fast fingers pressed down hard on the keyboard.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Text after text and there’s still no answer.
The threat of Seokyoon’s safety weighs heavy on his mind. He could feel himself losing control of his body, thoughts swirling around, breathing shortening. His insides curl around him, organs wrapping around his body tight.
Jongwoo’s trembling hands press the call button, breath staggering listening to the ringing of the line. The writer paces around, beads of sweat sticking on his forehead as time passes by.
“Goddammit, pick the phone up.” He whispers, tasting iron from biting his dry lips a little bit too hard. His knuckles turn white, grip crushing his phone.
He’s not picking up.
Jongwoo tries again. Once, twice. 6 times, 7 times.
“Pick the fucking phone up Seokyoon!”
Of course he doesn’t pick up.
The writer catches himself from throwing the phone to the floor, eyes darting up left and right, body trembling with anxiety. As his eyes start fogging up with tears, he sprints to Eden. Every single mile closer, he runs faster than before, wind pushing on his body.
He arrives in Eden, darting up the stairs. Loud footsteps echo through the molding corridors followed by Jongwoo’s heavy breathing. He rushes up to Seokyoon’s room, breaking his fist on his door.
There’s no answer.
His throat feels dry, body cramped up from running so much. His sweat prickles on his skin, ragged breathing starting to slow down. It takes a few minutes for him to breathe properly, to think properly. He looks down to see a new message from Seokyoon.
Jongwoo legs move on their own, bolting up the steps once again to the rooftop. The air hits him like a ton of bricks as he swishes the door open. His eyes landed on the back of the figure he was dreading to see, disbelief washing over him.
“Seokyoon!”
He rushes up to the man, eyes stinging as the tears he was holding in for so long finally falls. The younger one turns back, eyes turning wide as he sees Jongwoo in such a state.
The writer tackles the man in a hug, hands gripping onto the back of the other's shirt as if his life depended on it. Seokyoon huffs at the sudden impact, body almost stumbling down if it wasn’t for Jongwoo holding him rooted to the ground. With his face tucked under Seokyoon’s neck, Jongwoo holds him closer as tears wet the collar of the younger’s shirt.
The relief he felt was like a breath of fresh air knowing that Seokyoon was safe.
“Hyung?” Seokyoon’s whispers, concern clear in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Let’s-” Jongwoo sniffles, smiling slightly to himself. “Let’s just stay like this for a while, Seokyoon.”
“Okay.”
He breathes, holding him closer in a comforting embrace.
The smell of Seokyoon’s light detergent, the warmth of his breath tickling his skin, the sound of his beating heart.
Seokyoon in his hands felt right.
Carefully, a hand reaches Jongwoo’s hair, stroking it slowly.
“I’m sorry I made you worry, Hyung.”
The writer looks up, sniffing once again before answering.
“I’m glad you’re safe, Seokyoon.” Jongwoo sighs, curling in deeper to his warm embrace.
- Bold
“Hyung, come here!” Seokyoon exclaims, his cheery voice tinkling in the others’ ears.
Jongwoo’s eyes strayed away from the floor, head moving in the direction of the voice. With quiet steps, the writer treads down the path, following the man who called. The writer looks up to face the back of Seokyoon’s figure, eyes lingering on the younger’s messy dyed hair.
Jongwoo watches as Seokyoon turns to face the writer, his clothes swaying lightly in the wind, a dazzling smile upon his lips. He could feel himself smiling back at Seokyoon, eyes sparkling.
It’s been 3 weeks since Seokyoon’s arrival.
21 days of happiness.
Seokyoon was everything he wanted. Everything he needed.
Young and bright, comforting and wonderful.
A little clingy yet Jongwoo doesn’t mind.
A person who cares. Cares for him.
Spending time together was all that Jongwoo looked forward to, all he cared about. Whether it was quiet evenings or nights in noisy bars, Jongwoo doesn’t mind. As long as it was with Seokyoon.
Most nights, when Jongwoo can’t fall asleep, he finds himself calling the man. And every time he answers.
Late night talks with him could be seconds, could be hours, but every conversation was meaningful, ones that Jongwoo was gonna remember well.
It doesn’t take Jongwoo long enough to notice that he doesn’t need Ji Eun. It was a bittersweet breakup, both sides knowing they would not regret it yet acknowledging the time they spent together. They’re relationship was never meant to last, not when he had Seokyoon.
The type of person who could brighten the atmosphere of a room, a man whose vibrant and outgoing personality seemed to shine through the dreary halls of Eden.
Now in front of him, the writer observes the man, silently taking note of his features.
Eyes that glitter, shining for Jongwoo. Pale skin complementing his light auburn hair. A blinding smile shining more radiantly than the sun. Hands, pretty and thin, fingers grasping for Jongwoo.
He slips a hand in his own pocket, reaching for the necklace he bought for Seokyoon. Feeling a cold metal twirling around his fingers, he takes it out, hiding it behind his back. Fingers fiddle with the tag connected to the metal chain. Jongwoo had caught Seokyoon staring longingly at the item and after much saving, he could finally get it.
“What’s that, Jongwoo-ah?” The young man asks, observant as he always is.
The writer chuckles, “Well, if you want to know-“
Seokyoon looks up at him, wide-eyed, curious.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
Seokyoon obeys like a puppy, eyes squeezed shut. In Jongwoo’s imagination, it really looked like his tail was wagging. He bites his lips from laughing out loud and the other man frowns, one eye open, squinting at the writer.
“Hyung, what’s so funny?” He asks, head tilting in question.
“Ah, you better not be peeking, Seokyoon.” He replies, causing Seokyoon to glue his eyelids shut once again.
He places the chain in his palm, fingers delicately caressing Seokyoon’s skin.
“You can open them now.”
He opens his eyes carefully, as if the gift would hurt him if he did otherwise. It takes him a while to understand what he was holding but when realisation sets in, Jongwoo decides it was worth every cent he spent even when it meant working longer hours.
“I-“ He starts, staring at Jongwoo in disbelief. “Is this-
“It’s really yours Seokyoon,” Jongwoo cuts with a promise, a grin on his face.
The younger man excitedly puts the necklace on, adjusting the chain around his neck. It was at the perfect length, perfect for Seokyoon. Jongwo is so fucking glad he bought it.
Seokyoon, on the other hand, was elated, beaming brightly, gaze still on the necklace. Noticing how Seokyoon still hasn’t said anything, the writer teases him, head cocking to the side.
“Did you forget your thank-you Seokyoon-ah?''
Before Jongwoo could even blink, Seokyoon leans in closer, tugging him by his shirt, giving a slight peck on Jongwoo’s lips.
Jongwoo could feel his cheeks reddening from how hot he was feeling, eyes darting up to meet Seokyoon. The male only smiles his familiar friendly smile, eyes however more upturned than usual.
The writer stares, quiet, face burning as he waits for Seokyoon. Instead of explaining, the younger man plasters a mischievous grin on his face, letting go of the older’s shirt to pick up his hand.
He holds his hands wide open and Jongwoo mirrors him, focusing on their hands as their fingertips touch each other. Seokyoon tangles their fingers together before pulling him closer, eyes twinkling to match his radiant smile.
Seeing how Jongwoo doesn’t object to the touch, choosing to intertwine with his fingers instead, the younger male places a kiss on the back of the writer’s hand, soft and gentle.
“Thank you, Jongwoo-hyung!”
- Stupid
Seokyoon is stupid.
So fucking stupid.
So stupid for being young.
A naive, young man that is easily fooled with deceptive lies. A man who trusts strangers too fast, a man who believes in them. A man who has so much to live for.
So stupid for being so bright.
For being so full of youth and talent. For being himself, a person who dreams, a person who’s hopeful.
So stupid for being someone of comfort.
Someone who Jongwoo could easily talk to whenever and wherever. Someone who is attentive, who would listen and care. For being someone who is kind, a person who wouldn’t hurt a fly. For being Jongwoo’s solace.
So stupid for being bold.
For being brave enough to say what he wants to say, do what he wants to do. For being ridiculously charming and confident in himself, in Jongwoo.
Seokyoon is an idiot.
An idiot willing to accept anything, do anything for Jongwoo.
Jongwoo’s bruised and body aches. The pervert, the jester and the landlady are dead. The dentist remains the only one left, standing in the way between him and Seokyoon. He wipes the blood on his already bloody shirt, spitting on the floor.
“Seo Moonjo.”
A smile creeps up the dentist's face hearing his name. He turns to face the writer, looking down.
“Jagiya. Congratulations-“
“ Shut the fuck up. Where is he?”Jongwoo grits his teeth, hands clenched into fists.
“Who?” Moonjo asks, tilting his head to the side, a frown appearing on his face as if he doesn’t know.
“Cut the crap Moonjo, where is he?” He snaps, a lashing snarl in response to Moonjo’s ignorance.
The dentist remains quiet for a minute, staring at the writer. The frown on Moonjo’s forehead seems to deepen, eyes almost in disbelief over Jongwoo’s question.
It's the first time Jongwoo’s seen the dentist lose his calm composure.
“You killed them all.”
Moonjo’s features seem to soften, a creepy smile appearing on his lips again, equanimity resting upon his features.
“You succeeded yet,” He sighs. “I’m disappointed.”
The writer grounds himself. He’s so close to clawing his neck yet he waits, patient, needing to know where Seokyoon is.
“We were supposed to be together forever, jagiya.”
“ Crazy bastard. “ Jongwoo huffs, brows furrowing. “You’re fucking delusional.”
Something almost feral reflects in Moonjo’s eyes as he continues, pretending not to hear the writer.
“He distracted you.”
The writer’s eyes shift left and right. There’s no way. Seokyoon isn’t- he won’t be. He promised.
“M-“
“ You were supposed to be my masterpiece.”
“ Moonjo .” Jongwoo’s voice is quivering, needing to know. He’s getting desperate.
“Moonjo, please, please, tell me where he is.” It’s a soft plea.
The dentist doesn’t say anything again. Jongwoo stalks closer, something misty fogging up his eyes.
“I beg you.” A whisper. “I beg you, please .”
“You-“ Moonjo says, “ You don’t need him.”
Boiling bright red burns in Jongwoo’s eyes as he lunges forward, fist connecting with Moonjo’s face. The writer feels out of touch with reality, his body seemingly moving faster than his head could handle. As the sloppy, messy fight continued, Jongwoo’s thoughts were a spinning mess.
All he could think of was Seokyoon . Seokyoon was depending on him.
And Jongwoo needed him.
Everything becomes a blur.
It takes a moment to realize what he's done. Moonjo’s lifeless body is lying flat on the ground, his chest still. The writer lifts his own body up off the floor, staggering around, his head spinning. As oxygen finally rushes through his brain, he drags his weary feet down the corridors, only Seokyoon on his mind.
The man he’s looking for is flat on the ground, a withering body, bruised and wounded. Jongwoo’s eyes widened at the sight, rushing to Seokyoon’a side, falling to the ground.
“J- Jongwoo?” Seokyoon holds his voice in a weak whisper, barely keeping his eyes open.
He cradles the younger man in his arms, holding him closer to him. Tears start to blur his vision as he hears Seokyoon’s pained breaths, life hanging on a thin thread.
“H- hey, I’m here.”
“Ha-“ A strained smile appeared on his face, strangely comforting and warm.
Of course. Of course he would smile.
“I knew you would.” He says, voice hoarse, breathing haggard.
“He poisoned me.”
“Seokyoon…” Jongwoo’s hands are trembling as he pulls him closer, lips held in a quiver.
“At least you’re here, Hyung.” He chuckled slightly, eyes upturned, smiling.
Jongwoo can’t help but smile back slightly as the tears continue to fall, heavy and hard.
“Thank you-“ The man starts to speak, only to be interrupted with the sudden need to cough, Seokyoon’s words were replaced with crimson red blood, spilling from his mouth.
“Shh, shh. Stop- talking.“ The writer shushes him, caressing his face gently.
“You’re gonna be okay, it’s okay, you’re gonna be-“
Jongwoo doesn’t know who he's trying to convince.
More sobs wrecked through his fatigued body as the dying man slowly placed his hand on Jongwoo’s with the remaining strength he had.
Warm lips pressed on Jongwoo’s skin, light and delicate.
“I’m sorry, Jongwoo.” He heaves, coughing up more blood, the familiar smile appears again.
“Don’t say that-“
“Thank you for being my everything.”
The writer watches as his life fades away from his body, eyes closed. As he takes his last breath, his body goes limp, the grip on Jongwoo’s hand loosened.
“Seokyoon-“
His own voice ringing in his ears.
“Wake up.”
The tears are flowing.
“Wake up,”
His jaws are clenched tight.
“Wake up, you fucking asshole, you promised.”
His breathing is uneven.
“I hate you.” He sniffs.
“You promised.”
Seokyoon is fucking stupid.
So stupid for being who he is.
Stupid for being, young, bright, comforting and bold.
And most of all—
Seokyoon is stupid for being the one Jongwoo loves.