Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Once again, I’m terribly sorry for this incident.” 

Yoojin’s body is bent in a courteous bow. Yoohyun, whose smaller hand is clasped in Yoojin’s own, remains silent.

The headmaster nods, her demeanour is oozing with disinterest as if she can’t wait to be rid of the disgruntled mother and the middle schooler who are ruining her quiet afternoon. Her office door clicks shut.

Minjun’s mother turns towards Yoojin with the furious force of a wronged demoness.

“Be sure to keep that little menace on a leash. If he dares to mess with my Minjun again, I swear…” The woman’s perfect red lips are twisted in a snarl, her eyes shining like a pair of sharp blades. Minjun is half hidden behind the curve of her pencil skirt, never surfacing to make eye contact with any of them. “Besides, where are your parents? Why is the older brother the one showing up for a parent teacher meeting?”

“Our parents are out of town so I represented them as Yoohyun’s parent. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive Yoohyun,” Yoojin repeats for what must have been the fourth time that day.

Yoojin doesn’t bother to wait for a response and quickly pulls Yoohyun along to rush past the mother and son pair. Minjun doesn’t make a peep at their departure, unlike his vexed mother, there’s just a barely noticeable twitch in his shoulders when Yoojin and Yoohyun brush past him. The bright red bruise marring the boy’s shoulder is hidden partially underneath his stained uniform.

They are walking towards the bus stop, hand in hand, when Yoohyun breaks the silence. 

“Sorry, hyung.”

Yoojin directs a smile meant to be soothing towards Yoohyun. “No need to be sorry Yoohyun. Honestly, that brat got what he deserves for bullying my cute little brother.” 

Yoohyun isn’t the type to complain or tattletale but Yoojin is nothing but skilled in deciphering Yoohyun’s uncommunicative tendencies when a few days ago after school Yoohyun showed up with a scraped knee. It took Yoojin a great deal of time to even wrestle Minjun’s name out of Yoohyun’s mouth, and it was only Yoohyun’s firm disapproval that prevented Yoojin from storming the school to find this Minjun brat who dared to hurt his brother.

“And what an exaggeration to say that you bit and then flung him into the dumpster? If he wants to lie, at least find a believable one.” Yoojin huffs irritably. That six grader has at least ten kilograms over his elementary second grade brother, there’s no way Yoohyun could have even lifted that kid’s body, much less thrown him when Yoohyun is barely as tall as the said dumpster in the secluded back of the school.

The wind blows and tickles Yoojin’s face, the chill penetrating his bones. A shiver involuntarily travels down his spine. Autumn is thriving around them in stunning orange and red hues as Yoojin runs through their grocery list in his mind.

“I’m hungry,” Yoohyun whispers with such a small voice that if Yoojin isn’t so attuned to his brother he might have missed it.

Yoojin chuckles and ruffles the top of Yoohyun’s head affectionately.

“I’ll cook you a delicious meal when we get home. Will Yoohyun accompany hyung to the supermarket to stock up on some ingredients?”

Yoohyun stares up at him and nods.

Yoojin never thinks of himself as unlucky, despite the seemingly ubiquitous opinions of teachers and other parents in Yoohyun’s school. They have never said it out loud, but they whisper it amongst themselves.

‘What a poor child, to be abandoned by his parents at such a young age.’

‘To have such a freak as his little brother, it must be hard.’

‘How can he stomach living together with that ‘thing’—‘

‘—a monster.’

Those whispers are a cloud of hate that persistently clings to the brothers whenever Yoojin picks Yoohyun up from his elementary school. Yoojin can’t find it in himself to care.

Even if any of the claims is true, Yoojin will never stop loving Yoohyun.

Humans are creatures of instinct who have the ability to freely follow their desires. Their parents, for instance, with their love for outings and trips to foreign countries of which half Yoojin can’t properly pronounce the names of, very rarely ever spend a night at their house. The most recent of Yoojin’s memory only recalls shadows and the brief glimpse of their backs leaving the house. 

Yoojin, who finds joy and meaning in raising his little brother, is no different from their parents in this regard.

The adults seem to believe that it’s a chore to raise Yoohyun but Yoojin disagrees. Taking care of the house, preparing for Yoohyun’s lunches every day, monitoring Yoohyun’s schoolwork and other needs come naturally to him. Yoohyun is a good boy who never gives Yoojin a hard time and is always eager to help out around the house. Yoojin loves being depended on by Yoohyun and does his best to prove that Yoohyun isn’t bereft of ‘parental love and care’, despite the claims whispered around them.

Is there a greater blessing than to be so happy and to be allowed to fulfil one’s desires?

Christmas lights twinkle so prettily this year too. More so when Yoojin spends it with the person he loves the most in the whole world.

“Isn’t it great that the whole world is celebrating your birthday with you, Yoohyun?”

Yoohyun’s cheeks are rosy from the cold as he stares up at Yoojin. The bottomless wells of Yoohyun’s black irises reflect off the brilliant orange and white sparkles of the nearby lights and Christmas themed decorations as they stand in place to enjoy the festive atmosphere, hand in hand as they’ve always been. There’s a giant Christmas tree in front of them glowing colourfully, dusted by white snowflakes and adorned with twinkling red and green garland.

“I wonder if any place sells birthday cakes on Christmas day?” 

Distantly, Yoojin notes the stiffness in his cheeks from how hard he’s been smiling the whole night. Can all these warm, fluttering emotions possibly cause his heart to burst?

They find a small cafe located in the quieter part of town, outside the centre of the festivity, with a slice of strawberry sponge cake shared between them. 

Snowflakes of an ever-white hue flutter in a slow trail outside the chilled glass windows overlooking a desolate street. Inside though, it’s perfectly warm as Yoojin coaxes Yoohyun to open his mouth with sweet words and feeds him a bite of the sponge cake. Yoohyun obediently accepts the spoonful of cake, his cheeks plumping adorably with each quiet chew. It’s just a small cake because Yoojin’s allowance is running low from buying a thick animal encyclopaedia that Yoohyun’s eyes had lingered on longer than the other books when they visited a bookshop that afternoon, topped with the fact that Yoohyun doesn’t really like cakes. 

Then again, Yoohyun has never shown preference for any food nor enthusiasm towards food in general despite Yoojin’s best attempts at learning to cook various delicious dishes. Yoojin doesn’t mind. Yoohyun never whines that he dislikes a certain food so it's fairly easy to keep him on a balanced and healthy diet.

The stars sprinkled on a luminous night sky are watching over the brothers seated together on the wooden bench of a park.

Yoojin has an arm wrapped snugly around his little brother, his head craned up to enjoy the beautiful view, an infinite canopy of midnight-black heavens above. “Is your birthday a fun one? I sincerely hope you enjoy today, Yoohyun.”

Yoohyun’s ensuing answer is simple, and without hesitation. “I’m happy that hyung is here to celebrate it with me.”

Warmth blooms inside him at his brother’s little admission. Yoojin’s hold tightens as he rests his head on top of his brother’s head. Time passes by in companionable silence while the winter frost is kept at bay by the warmth of one another.

“Would you like to eat some galbi jjim for dinner? I’ve prepared some at home,” Yoojin says with a happy smile perched on top of his lips. The sweet, savoury beef short ribs dish is considered a luxurious meal for them due to the costly ingredients, reserved only for the most special of occasions. And what occasion is more special than his beloved brother’s birthday? 

The thick red-checkered scarf that encircles Yoohyun’s neck makes his face appear chubbier. Complete with apple red cheeks and soft black curls falling over his forehead and ears, he’s the most adorable kid Yoojin has ever laid his eyes on. “Yes. I like anything as long as it’s hyung’s cooking.”

Yoojin chuckles and lets his hand run against Yoohyun’s body in a show of affection.

The peace of their private moment is shattered when Yoohyun’s head abruptly snaps up, all tense and alert. He then jumps off the bench they’re sitting on and tugs at Yoojin’s hand insistently.

Yoojin lets himself be dragged away by his suddenly animated brother.

“Eh? What is it, Yoohyun?”

“We have to get out of here,” says Yoohyun in a clipped tone.

Yoojin is a fairly calm teenager, all things considered, but the urgency in Yoohyun's voice leaves him feeling a bit spooked and disoriented, head swivelling from left to right to identify this mysterious danger that his brother has hinted at as they set off in a brisk pace towards the exit of the quiet garden.

There’s a sharp nick in his neck that almost instantly robs Yoojin of the energy keeping him upright. Then everything goes black.

At the edge of his awareness, a conversation can be heard in the distance. Then it’s the dull pounding in the centre of his skull that Yoojin notices next. Now that Yoojin’s awake, it becomes apparent that the conversation doesn’t take place in a distant place, instead the three men involved are standing right in front of him.

“–fifty million won, easy! I mean look at that one, he’s the real deal–”

“–wait for two hours! Why is it that damn long?”

“Can’t help it man, we’re in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. That man has places to be before this.”

Just that snippet of their conversation makes it apparent just what sort of situation they’ve got themselves into. These men are human traffickers, more specifically those that target children. Dread pools in his stomach, how can Yoojin slip past these adult men to get himself and his brother out of here?

Yoojin sneaks a glance to his side. Relief washes over him when he sees Yoohyun is awake and seemingly unharmed. His little brother’s expressionless eyes are glued on their kidnappers while, just like Yoojin, has his hands restrained by metal handcuffs attached to a support pole of this warehouse-like building.

The place appears abandoned, dusty, and there are indications that storage racks were formerly constructed there in a row based on the rust patterns staining the concrete floor.

“Oh, the older brat’s awake.”

Yoojin is jolted out of his thoughts. Fear strikes him like a lance across his chest, heart pounding audibly in his ears as he watches that terrible figure drawing nearer.

The man that is speaking seems to be of foreign descent, maybe of a mixed race, with long hair tied in a low ponytail. He exhales and dark smoke streams out of his mouth.

Yoojin is positively terrified, but he tries to be brave for Yoohyun’s sake and grits out in a firm voice, “You better release us now. Our parents have close ties with the police and will be looking for us the second we were whisked out the street.”

Ponytail man doesn’t miss a beat before replying gruffly, “That’s a lie. Your parents don’t give a damn about you two brats and are off merrily vacationing somewhere outside Korea. They won’t be back for at least two more weeks.”

They’re really in trouble. It’s obvious that these men have done their homework before deciding to kidnap them. Yoojin and Yoohyun are ideal kidnapping targets for unsavoury individuals since their parents are overseas, they never do a phone call check up on their kids plus the fact that both boys are on school break till the end of January.

“You can sell me off and I swear I won’t fight back, but p-please let my little brother go!” Yoojin yells out with trembles wrecking his entire body. Helplessness threatens to consume him whole yet it doesn’t dampen the flare of fierce protectiveness over his baby brother. At least Yoohyun has to walk out of here safely, Yoojin will make sure of it.

Yet his conviction is but a laughing material for the three men.

“Listen to this brat’s funny joke!” Ponytail guy wheezes out.

“You kidding me? The real money maker here is your little brother. You’re lucky if your ugly mug can pass off as a bonus for this deal,” the other declares with a mocking sneer.

The bald one approaches Yoohyun causing him to have to crane his neck up to maintain eye contact due to their height difference. Baldie bends down and his hand wraps itself around Yoohyun’s chin, fat fingers squeezing his brother’s cheeks and forcing his head to assume a more upward angle.

“A handsome little man, aren’t ya? Bingsu will surely be pleased,” he comments.

“He’s just eight! Leave him alone!” Yoojin screams out. 

“Shut up!” There’s a force striking his jaw and Yoojin’s head is whipped to the side. Pain frizzles up from the point of contact up to his brain and he can taste copper blooming inside his mouth.

Despite the stinging pain and bolstered by unusual brazenness, Yoojin levels a withering glare at the men. “Is this seriously your job? Kidnapping little boys to sell them off to a pedophilic client? How pathetic. I pray that perverted and pathetic men like you guys will rot in hell.”

The blunt point of Baldie’s toes slams right into Yoojin’s solar plexus causing him to hack. Before Yoojin can even register what’s happening, vicious beatings then rain on seemingly every exposed spot of his body. The instinct to hunch in and shield himself fails since his hands are tightly bound behind his back.

“Fucking brat can run his mouth off!”

“Acting all high and mighty won’t get you anywhere, in the end we will be the ones leaving here millions of wons richer!”

Is this all Yoojin can do, to be a helpless punching bag? Physical pain combined with acute despair for his brother’s future are all Yoojin can afford to feel as he endure the endless fists and feet pummeling him. Yoohyun is such a sweet boy, what will those sick adults do to him once they get their hands on him?

“Forget marketing him off as a bonus. He won't be worth much anyway. Let’s just ditch his body somewhere after–”

Abruptly, the blows stop battering his body, replaced by the sound of heavy thuds striking the concrete floor and sharp cracking of glass. A small whimper escapes Yoojin’s mouth, partly in relief, the other part in confusion as to what’s happening. The tears that form in the corners of his eyes are blurring his vision and he tries to blink them away to be able to make out the scene before him. 

The area has turned considerably darker, a quick inspection after his eyes have adapted to the sudden darkness reveals that several of the light bulbs hanging on the ceiling have shattered, leaving glass shards all over. Then his attention shifts to the source of pained groans, of their captors lying on the floor in a sprawled mess.

“Don’t hurt hyung.” 

Shiver travels down Yoojin’s spine at the dark timber underlying the familiar voice. 

Yoohyun’s silhouetted form is standing there before the men writhing on the floor. It’s not Yoojin’s eyes playing tricks on him since a quick check has confirmed the fact that the space beside him is empty.

“Yoo…hyun?” croaks out Yoojin as he straightens up, willing the pounding behind his eyes to subside to improve his focus. 

Upon closer look, the metal cuffs that enchained him are shown to be broken in halves, with each loop still dangling at each of Yoohyun’s thin wrists. There’s no emotion in his eyes, only darkness that reaches out in a vicious chokehold. 

“H-how the fuck did you break out your ties?” Baldie blabbers.

“Was that little brat the one who hit us just now? How is he so strong!”

“Forget it, just catch him! Make sure he’s unharmed!”

In a flurry, the three men swarm Yoohyun. The fierce energy seeping off them hides none of their intention that means his brother harm.

“No!” Yoojin screams out as he forcibly yanks at his restraints despite knowing the futility of such action. There’s no place for rationality as his heart clenches in raw panic for his brother. Yoohyun is just a second grade elementary student, has a much smaller build than his peers and is untrained whatsoever in martial arts or even sports. He has virtually no chance against three men whose expertise is literally groundwork for human trafficking.

Yet, something astonishing happens. Yoohyun moves, and between one blink and the next he’s on top of the tattooed guy, both legs hooked at meaty shoulders and his hands fisted on both sides of the man’s head. There’s an audible crack and the man tumbles down unceremoniously, ending in a messy heap on the ground with Yoohyun reassembling himself to land on his back. The man’s head appears angled in an unnatural way that indicates his neck bones being dislocated or even broken. 

He doesn’t so much as twitch as Yoohyun steps off his body onto even ground. 

Ponytail stops in his tracks, staring in shock. “What the fuck…”

Baldie is wrapped in a similar state of disbelief. “Is that bastard Kim Sang seriously dead? No fucking way…”

Ponytail’s lips part, but the word is stolen right out of his breath when he gets punched in the guts. The way his body is thrown backwards combined with his expression give off the impression that the hit is painful, extremely so. Yoohyun, who appears to have closed the gap between them in a matter of milliseconds, retracts his fist without showing any signs of triumphant emotion at having successfully landed a square hit at his opponent. 

Baldie produces a knife out of his inner breast pocket. Then he is hurtling towards Yoohyun with a murderous snarl plastered on his face. “Don’t fuck with us, brat!”

Between one second and the next, Yoojin is unsure of what exactly he’s seeing. Maybe it’s his lingering headache that is impairing his vision, but there are dark obscure lines suspended in the air that overlay Yoohyun’s figure which manipulate the fabric of reality, making what would seem impossible, possible. Baldie screams in agony as blood pours from a deep gash on his right arm, and Yoohyun is now holding the knife in his hand.

He hasn’t yet finished screaming when the knife pierces his left chest, right over his heart. The light is just beginning to fade from his eyes when he topples over.

Yoojin hasn’t quite worked through his disarrayed understanding over the fast-paced series of actions when he spots Ponytail sneaking out from behind Yoohyun who is surveying the downed form of Baldie.

“Behind you–!”

Black, staticky lines surge the place, filling in any empty space the greedy energy can occupy. Blinding Yoojin until his entire vision is dominated with jumbled flashes of bright silver and endless black void belonging to a nether plane of existence, his eyes watering from the overload of visual stimuli.

Whatever strange force that is, dissipates as abruptly as it appeared.

Once Yoojin is rid of the dark pinpricks peppering his vision, he takes in the sight of all three men out of the count, sprawled motionlessly on the dingy floor. With no visible injury, the tattooed guy appears simply to be sleeping who will wake up with a bad crick in his neck, Baldie will be too if not for the obvious knife wound that penetrated his heart.

However, Ponytail looks as if he’s just entered a tornado filled with flying knives. There are multiple slashes that mar his skin and clothes, wide unseeing eyes capture the terror of his final moments. The sight of his little brother standing over three unmoving forms of three men that he took out single-handedly is more than inconceivable, to say the least, Yoojin has never thought Yoohyun is capable of such strength and agility. And what are those weird black lines? Was it a hallucination resulting from him briefly losing consciousness at the moment? 

Yoohyun collapses on his knees, his sights trained unwaveringly on the corpses. Yoohyun must have been shocked by all the violence that has transpired, despite it being largely committed by his own hands (Yoojin’s brain still can’t quite comprehend that piece of information) and his heart immediately reaches out for his brother.

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” whispers out Yoohyun, still blankly staring at the corpse closest to him.

“What’s there to be sorry for? Come here Yoohyun-ah, let me see you and make sure you’re un… hurt…”

Yoojin’s sentence is cut short when he witnesses Yoohyun jamming his bare hand into Ponytail’s chest, as easily as sinking into tofu. Blood spurts out from the newly made hole and seeps readily into the dead man’s shirt, some excess flowing down his midriffs. There’s muffled squelching before Yoohyun’s hand surfaces, clutching a red bloody lump.

Yoohyun is holding it with a strange glint in his eyes and brings it closer to his face. Or more precisely, towards his open mouth which is stretched unnaturally wide. There’s no hesitation as Yoohyun’s teeth pierce through the flesh–no, the heart as Yoojin belatedly realises, to take a big bite, only inhuman grace as dark liquid sprays out the organ and paints Yoohyun’s face and body scarlet.

Then Yoohyun begins to chow down with gusto, alternating between taking big bites, chewing and swallowing with the fervour of a starving man who has just been presented with a warm meal.

Just like the colour of blood that is beginning to coat his body, Yoohyun’s eyes have turned red, emanating a deep ravenous glow from within.

Within seconds, the heart is no more. A guttural moan that can vaguely be interpreted as a visceral display of satisfaction reverberates from deep within his throat. Now without the organ blocking the view, there are notable changes of Yoohyun’s appearance, especially his facial area. Aside from the ominous red irises, a new set of pointed, serrated teeth has sprouted out of his gums in front of his regular teeth that undoubtedly aids in shredding tough cardiac muscle.

Yoohyun isn’t done, far from it. His attention is diverted back to Ponytail’s exposed chest, a ghastly amalgam of broken ribcage, pink organs flecked by pieces of bloodied flesh, with the visible excitement of a boy choosing his pick out of a birthday table filled with the most exquisite of sweets. 

Seemingly having settled on his pick, he eagerly delves back into the mangled chest to fish out a reddish brown, wedge-shaped organ. Yoohyun devours it with the voracity of a wild beast, not wasting a single precious second as if there’s the ever present threat of another animal sneaking to snatch his prized kill.

Not even the sky collapsing right at that moment can snap Yoojin out of the horror that has gripped his core at the gruesome sight presented before him. Of his little brother literally eating a person. Ichor-filled veins streak outward Yoohyun's cheeks and down his neck in an erratic pattern that somewhat resembles lightning, black against blood-drenched skin. The sickening sounds of slurping and crunching are what finally jolts whatever working brain cells and courage Yoojin has to hoarsely call out to his brother.

“Yoohyun-ah… wh-what are you doing?” Yoojin’s breathless voice tumbles out his lips, only for the intended recipient of that plea to essentially ignore that call for attention, solely focused on his mission. Clawed hands tipped with black nails proceed to tear Ponytail’s right thigh cleanly off the hip socket. In a manner similar to eating a chicken drumstick, only several times bigger and belonging to a dead person, Yoohyun goes to consume the flesh until the white of the femur bone is visible, his teeth and tongue working to meticulously pick the bone clean right to the crunchy knee cartilage.

After swallowing down the last bite, Yoohyun flings the bone away carelessly. Raw hunger is still shining in his eyes as he surveys the sprawled lifeless bodies of the other two kidnappers. His interest finally lands on Baldie that is lying face down.

Hovering above the prone form, Yoohyun takes a hold of his shirt and tears it in half like mere paper. Yoojin’s instincts are screaming at him to look away, but something keeps his eyes glued at his brother who is currently shoving a hole into Baldie’s lower back and wrenches his tail bone out with a loud squelch.

What’s next on Yoohyun’s menu is now all clear. He positions the tip of the spine at his lips, kissing it briefly-the gesture deceptively gentle, and opens his mouth wide. 

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Starting from the tip of the tailbone and right up until the top cervical vertebrae that borders his skull, Yoohyun proceeds to gobble down Baldie’s entire spine. Equipped with bone crushing jaws which have widened to an unnatural degree to accomodate his task, the action appears as easy as snacking on a long corn dog.

At last, it’s the bloody cranium that Yoohyun rubs at tenderly with his fingers, like it’s a ghastly mockery of a pet dog. There’s no display of excessive strength as the skull is then cracked open, with the ease of an expert that has done this hundreds of times. Yoohyun’s clawed hands scoop the brain out tenderly like cupping precious honey. The organ jiggles in his hands. Yoohyun wastes no time to bring it to his mouth, slurping down grey matter with an expression of pure bliss unlike what Yoojin has seen him making before until all the tender organ is gone.

Yoohyun looks satisfied. As if his bone-deep hunger is finally sated.

Then, slowly, Yoohyun’s face starts to morph back to a normal human. The extra row of teeth disappear back into his gums, then the black veins vanish, revealing the colour of normal skin. Lastly, his eyes lose their scarlet glow, leaving behind familiar inky depths.

Yoojin can’t help the flash of fear that assaults him when Yoohyun finally shifts his attention towards him. He hauls himself back up his feet, languor clinging to his movement that reminds one of a sleepy lion that has just finished feeding on a fresh kill. His stomach is visibly distended, the shape is made more obvious by the wet clothes from the blood that drenches him from head to toe.

There’s nothing Yoojin can do but stare in horror like a cornered prey when Yoohyun approaches him at a leisurely pace.

Stopping a step before Yoojin’s bound form, Yoohyun extends a hand to touch his big brother’s shoulder. “Are you hurt, hyung?”

After being the sole, living witness to the grotesque scene that portrays the raw brutality of a predator in action, Yoojin involuntary flinches at the gentle contact. Yoohyun withdraws his hand immediately, face twisted with shame. Yoojin wants to say a few words to console him but he can’t seem to muster the energy. His throat is terribly dry, like he has just gulped down a mouthful of coarse sand.

Yoohyun straightens back up and saunters over to the back of the pole Yoojin is hooked on. With a quick click, the shackles are freed off his hands. Yoojin is massaging the welts on his sore wrists when Yoohyun enters his line of vision once again.

Wanting to remedy his previous reaction that causes such a forlorn expression to linger on his little brother’s face, Yoojin goes to grasp the bony knobs of Yoohyun’s shoulders with gentle hands.

“I’m n-not, hurt.” Yoojin coughs to clear his shaking voice. He stares intently at his blood-soaked brother, searching his eyes for answers. “What’s going on, Yoohyun? Why did you…” Yoojin can’t bring himself to say ‘eat those men’. Because saying it out loud makes such a horrifying revelation sound more real.

The express guilt on his brother’s countenance is replaced by a foreign emotion, more difficult for Yoojin to interpret accurately. If Yoojin has to put it into words, it’s of pensive acceptance to an unfavourable fate in the foreseeable future.

“I’ve always had the urge.” Yoohyun seems to have picked his words carefully. 

“Even if I’m like this, will hyung still take me home?”

His brother’s black eyes are staring imploringly into Yoojin’s own. There’s a hint of vulnerability that he never shows anyone, only ever rarely to his hyung. Then it dawns on Yoojin, causing the feelings of uneasiness swirling in his veins to dissipate instantly. Even bathed in deep red that smells starkly of nauseating copper, even after the brutal display that questions the legitimacy of his human nature, it's still his little brother.

His Yoohyun.

Yoojin’s arms reach out to embrace the slightly quivering form of his little brother as he picks a spot on Yoohyun’s cheek that isn’t splattered with blood to press a tender kiss. “Of course. Let’s go home, Yoohyun-ah.”

The night drifts on. Now that the adrenaline is mostly washed off his systems, Yoojin can feel the cold temperature seeping into the poorly insulated air of the deserted warehouse. Surrounded by cooling corpses, it’s imperative they make their escape pronto lest the law enforcement is given the chance to stumble upon this unassuming place and tie their involvement in this case of cold-blooded murder.

Obviously their states aren’t fit for public eyes. The brothers need to discard their bloodied clothes before they go out to avoid looking suspicious. Yoojin explores the warehouse and finds the kidnappers’ duffel bags. Luck is shining upon them when Yoojin triumphantly fishes out a new set of clothes. They look brand new; crisp cotton shirts, black pants and thin puffer jackets in their respective sizes. Maybe the nice clothing is prepared as a bonus to sweeten the upcoming deal? Speaking of upcoming deal, they need to hurry up before the aforementioned Bingsu, their prospective buyer, shows up here.

Yoojin strips Yoohyun off his practically ruined clothes and wipes the blood that is starting to crust on his skin off as best as he can, then proceeds to dress his little brother with the new clothes before doing the same for himself. He makes use of one of the duffel bags to put their own bloodied ones, assuming it’s not stealing since neither Baldie nor Ponytail will miss it considering that they’re, well, dead.

The many gasoline drums that Yoojin discovers next are the cherry on the cake. Those kidnappers clearly have prepared them in case things go awry so that they can erase the evidence by setting the place ablaze. They must have never expected in their wildest imaginations that their well thought out plan will be used to hide the evidence of their dead, partially eaten bodies instead.

Two figures scurry into the dark with bright fire columns tearing through the warehouse in the background. 

Out here, the sting of winter cold bites more strongly at his skin as Yoojin scans the surroundings to make out their location. As far as his eyes can make out, there’s only one cemented street with minimal, near non-existent lighting which stretches into the distance. Nothing pinges at him as being familiar, in fact it doesn’t look like they’re in the city at all.

Yoojin observes the street signs and quickly figures out the direction towards the city before they set off on foot.

Coming across an old bike by a shed is another stroke of luck that Yoojin feels hugely blessed with. It creaks from disuse and rust as Yoojin tests its durability with a few laps before deeming it acceptable and letting Yoohyun to climb up the seat behind him.

It takes them biking for roughly half an hour until finally they can spot the city lights in the far distance.

Yoohyun is a warm line nestled into Yoojin’s back. Yoohyun’s small hands are fisted in a loose hold on his shirt’s fabric as he hugs his big brother from behind. Occasionally when the road is even, Yoojin takes his left hand off the steer to stroke a comforting hand over Yoohyun’s little ones resting on top of his belly.

“It’s super late now for dinner, isn’t it? Don’t worry, Hyung will quickly prepare the galbi jjim for you once we’re back home,” Yoojin coos. After the horrifying night, Yoojin’s instincts to care for and comfort his beloved brother are in overdrive, babbying tone and all. Thankfully, Yoohyun hasn’t yet entered the age of rebellious teenage phase he often hears of who openly hates displays of affection from his family, so Yoojin will savour his ability to shower Yoohyun with love as long as possible.

His brain hasn’t caught up with the implications of what has transpired, dominated by coddling big brother mode as it is. Simply that Yoojin hasn’t yet fulfilled one of his responsibilities as a big brother to serve a warm dinner for his growing little brother.

“It’s okay. I’m not hungry anymore,” Yoohyun mumbles out.

Yoojin’s shock steals all the words he’s prepared to speak into nothingness. 

Hungry is probably an adjective state that Yoohyun uses to describe himself the most. Yoojin has always chalked up that particular habit to Yoohyun being the opposite of a typical whiny kid with more extravagant whims, whose main interest is instead focused on more basic needs. Only settling with mild confusion as to why Yoohyun never shows excitement when he eats or when they try out new tasty foods despite always saying that he’s hungry.

Now he knows.

Yoojin’s eyes soften.

A lifetime’s worth of memories in the kitchen plays out in a neat sequence in his mind. Standing side by side cutting carrots and dipping udon into boiling water, Yoojin trying to intently follow a cooking tutorial as Yoohyun points out what he just does wrong with effortless ease, the suds from cleaning plates that are stuck on Yoohyun’s elbows and cheek and the joyful peals of his own laughter as he helps his little brother wipes them off. 

Yoojin squeezes his brother's hand. “I’m glad. You don’t have to stay hungry anymore.”

Yoojin's heart swells at the way Yoohyun tightens his hold as if he wants to burrow into his older brother's back, alongside the assurance that they would be alright.

Chapter Text

The thing about stars is, they’re a pretty sight when viewed from a certain distance. Bright, burning, gorgeous gems splattered on a dark, ever-black veil. Yoohyun is a star, in all senses of the word.

“Han Yoohyun!” screamed the crowd of girls on top of their lungs with tears streaming down their faces.

The billboard’s glaring light was casted over a sea of pedestrians crossing the four-way street like ants, featuring a well-groomed presenter talking with effervescent passion, “—just who is this strapping young man who has gripped the entire nation by its heart? With his dashing looks and S class qualifications, he has surged from obscurity right to the highest top!”

The young man’s face was bombarded by a million camera flashes, and unlike the clearly disgruntled orange beast cradled in his arms, he appeared to be completely at ease. “Yoohyun deserves all the success he has so far achieved. As his older brother, I’m truly proud of him. I wish that everyone will continue to support and believe in Yoohyun to protect South Korea from—”

“I’m back,” announces Yoojin in a tired voice as he toes off his shoes.

Their penthouse on the topmost floor of Abyss guild building is bereft of any signs of the living. After the magic beasts have vacated their temporary glass enclosure here, this sort of quietness has become a regular companion. Yoojin sometimes misses hearing their constant noises. The good news is that all the beasts have finally adjusted to a regular sleeping schedule, allowing Yoojin to have a more fixed time to rest.

After placing the shoes neatly in the rack and still receiving no answer, Yoojin calls out again, “Yoohyun?” 

Silence passes for a few seconds before a rumble that’s nothing more than a barely-discernible jumble of words echoes down the hallway, “In the bathroom, hyung.”

A sliver of unidentifiable emotion registers across Yoojin’s facial muscles, before he begins to shed his cream-coloured coat and drapes it neatly over the dining chair as he walks through the quiet stretch of their living area. He heads towards Yoohyun’s bedroom door and welcomes himself in, the room being the only access to his little brother’s private bathroom inside. 

Yoojin used to be a squeamish person despite being a hunter. Yoohyun, at first, has protested his decision to try awakening as a hunter and Yoojin understands his concerns, he really does, what with the dangers tied to having a job with the highest fatality rate. Him acquiring the skills perfect nurturer and various passive defence skills, like poison nullification, is a decidedly net profit over all the risks. 

Over the years though, he has learned to control his natural reaction towards this sight.

The wide, oval-shaped bathtub is easily the most extravagant addition to this already lavish bathroom, made with pure black onyx. The interior designer merely regarded it as a whim of a filthy-rich S class guildmaster, but Yoojin knows better. It has a more practical use than stroking one’s ego. 

Stars are unequivocally beautiful. Yet the ugly truth is, when you get too close to a star, you’ll only get burned. Reduced to a charred black of nothingness, a husk with no value.

There’s a dead person with a partly burned face lying on their back in the bathtub. Blood pools in thick consistency beneath the still body. Their long blond hair is reaching outwards in spidery lines like a halo of death, framing the lax face with no consciousness left. A deep gash is gouged in the middle of the chest which separates the twin mounds of blood-flecked breasts—indicating the body as belonging to a woman—in which a partly intact ribcage resides with the unmistakable pinkish length of intestines overflowing out the crude opening.

Yoohyun, naked as the day he was born, is hunched over the woman’s carcass, the tendons of his back muscles contracting visibly with every effort to tear intercostal muscles off the ribcage with his teeth. The strips of flesh are then washed down an insatiably hungry throat with barely a few chews. There are missing chunks of flesh around the area of her neck and shoulders, in half circular shapes that look distinctly like teeth marks, with her head only tenuously attached to the body by a half-bitten cervical spine and neck tendons.

As evident by the state of the carcass, Yoohyun has nearly finished his meal. The ripped open chest is missing most of its organs, as well as both arms. Her thighs are gone, leaving behind calves littered with messy bitemarks and feet of which individual toes are coated in red nail polish, the red of which is brighter, starker against dark coagulating blood.

There are black horns protruding from either end of Yoohyun’s forehead, parting the wet wavy curls of his hair. Veins tainted with inky darkness which sprawl across the sides of his face, now barren of clothes, can be seen to be reaching down his chest and broad back in disorganised patterns like wide-spreading branches of a great banyan tree.

Twin glowing scarlet finally takes notice of his arrival and the owner of those captivating eyes which can easily lure a mortal astray straightens his body up. Yoohyun rakes a hand through the hair that has fallen over his face, only to rub more blood into the already stained curls. Inhuman jaws with non-defined joints which can liberally split open to accommodate his feeding begin to return to resemble a human’s face, morphing into Yoohyun’s sharp jawlines and familiar handsome visage, the smooth skin devoid of any tendrils of darkness.

Surrounded by the mess of a ruined carcass, drenched in scarlet, life-bearing liquid of precious blood, Yoohyun’s lips curve into the sweetest smile directed towards his big brother. “Welcome home, hyung.”

The unknowing masses were truly, helplessly charmed by this most perfect monsterhuman.

It’s hard to move his legs, all of a sudden. Putting on a smile is comparatively easier, before Yoojin forces his foot off the chilly tile and moves over to the edge of the tub. “Yoohyun-ah, have you properly said your thanks yet for the meal?”

It’s a little tradition that Yoojin has insisted for Yoohyun to do, to first acknowledge that a human life has been taken in order to fill his stomach before tearing into the body. To be grateful that a life is surrendered in order to extend another’s, it’s something Yoojin has started making a habit too for his own meal of cow, chicken, and pig’s meat.

“I did. I’ve never forgotten to do it the way hyung has told me to,” says Yoohyun in a wistful tone. The serene expression then twists itself into something ugly, of a displeased beast snarling at a distant threat. “But to be honest, I do think she deserved it. Having dared to attempt poisoning hyung in that gala event and on top of that tricking you with an A rank contract, her life was as good as forfeited. What a fool to then try winning my favour after doing all those things.”

Park Miyoung lies still, nothing more than a mute defendant unable or unwilling to deny the accusations hurled towards her.

Yoojin’s palm swipes across the wrinkled skin of his elbow in slow repetition, the fine hair across his arms is perked at attention. “Still. No matter what her crime is, she used to be a living human being. I want you to never forget that, Yoohyun,” the soft, slightly chiding tone says, accompanied by a hand that reaches out to gently cradle the side of Yoohyun’s face.

Yoohyun rests his head readily on the warmth of Yoojin’s palm, almost like he’s craving the contact, eyes fluttering to a close. There’s a brief, vague noise of acquiescence reverberating off his throat. The long lashes resting on blood-caked cheeks, coupled with the refined profile, this beloved brother of his is like a beautiful Renaissance painting. 

“I understand.” Came the docile, equally soft answer.

Yoojin smiles, this time more genuinely. “Good boy.”

The moment that can be called deceptively peaceful doesn’t last long before Yoohyun’s eyes flit back towards his half finished meal and the hunger returns. Taking that as a sign to back off, Yoojin does just that.

The urge to flinch is strong with every audible crunch of bone, every fleshy squelch that twists his guts in uncomfortable nausea. How Yoohyun is biting and gnawing at the calf is like it’s a religious experience, diligently tonguing through the gap between the thicker tibia in front and fibula and not letting even the tiniest strip of flesh escape his ravenous mouth.

Being fully grown now, he can easily devour an entire adult human in one sitting, much less a petite woman like Park Miyoung. Now only her severed feet, hands, a portion of the left lung, intestines, head, and spit-slicked bones are left. The spine, one of Yoohyun’s most favourite parts, is nowhere to be seen too.

Yoohyun always saves the head for last.

His jaws unhinge to impossible widths as he puts Park Miyoung’s whole head inside his mouth. Her dead eyes, smudged with blood and wayward hair strands, stare unseeingly ahead as the only witness to her final recognisable body part stares back.

Yoojin averts his gaze before Yoohyun’s jaws come down. 

Although the sight of Yoohyun eating to his heart’s content and looking so happy is a joy to him, he’s still a human. A weak one.

Yoojin decides to leave Yoohyun to feed in peace. His brother is too preoccupied with his meal to even notice the door to his bathroom clicking close.

This view never fails to comfort him. Seated comfortably in the leather lounge chair, Yoohyun sighs aloud, warm breath misting in the chilly night air, as he flips his journal open, takes out the Peace bookmark and carefully retuck it to the front of the page. He begins writing on the smooth blank paper and lets his mind wander. This rooftop garden was an accidental idea of his, spoken off-handedly to Yoohyun that one time they were taking a walk together ‘–you know, Jupiter’s guild has a big garden on its rooftop area, I can’t even imagine just how much money it must have cost to build a garden of that scale and grandeur–’ Then the next thing he knows, a rooftop garden of an even bigger size and wider flora variations has sprouted abruptly into existence right here. It seems there’s no beating Yoohyun’s competitive streak when Sung Hyunjae is involved.

Even though Yoojin has lamented the undoubtedly costly renovation expense of such a luxurious project, he can’t deny that it provides him the ideal place to calm down and organise his thoughts. Especially when it concerns his precious brother.

Yoojin thinks about Yoohyun, a lot. In almost all Yoojin’s waking moments, even deep inside his dreamscapes, Yoohyun is there.

Here in this evergreen sanctuary filled with fragrant flowers, pleasing to the eye, Yoojin can quietly forgive himself of any guilty, dark thoughts. 

The darkest thought which entertains the possibility that Yoohyun perhaps isn’t actually his blood family, that somehow and for some unknown reason a dungeon beast or another unidentifiable monster has taken the place of the Yoohyun who was meant to be his real, human brother. Thus, explaining his desire–no, his need to consume human flesh. Sometimes the coldness in Yoohyun’s eyes whenever he gazes down at a dead person, as nothing more than food to sate his hunger, sends unpleasant tingles down Yoojin’s spine. The ominous question of when he will be next has starred as a recurring theme of his nightmares. It springs up the memory of when they got mugged in a quiet alleyway and instead of showing even the slightest sign of fear, Yoohyun’s lips have spread into an inhumanely wide smile. The ensuing scene that unravelled, after Yoohyun’s little hand slipped out of Yoojin’s trembling one, had made him retch the entire content of his meagre breakfast onto dusty concrete in that alleyway.

Yoojin has at first put his foot down and insisted on targeting only bad guys. Yet not long into their journey, he discovers that the definition of bad guys has inevitably become blurry. Who are the bad guys, exactly? Rapists? Bank robbers? Teachers who turn a blind eye to bullying when the bullied kids come from neglected households? Someone who tramples over people and kills nuisances without blinking an eye to build his guild from the ground up, or the brother who lets it all happen and watches by mutely?

It’s almost like the heavens have come into an unanimous understanding that Yoojin can't take a moral high ground in this approach. He can’t even answer the question since when bad guys have turned into those who oppose Yoohyun. Can it be called selfish? No, maybe, yes. After all, humans as Earth’s top predator are already doing whatever the hell they want to the environment and the surrounding lifeforms.

His pen stops in its tracks once Yoojin registers a presence behind him, from the shadow that swallows his own. Slipping the Peace bookmark at the current page, Yoojin closes his journal.

“Finished?”

Clothed in a white sweater and dark trainers, Yoohyun looks pristine, fresh out of the shower. There’s virtually no trace of the previous slaughter scene, no speck of blood visible, only the lingering smell of their shared lavender body wash that drifts over his nose. 

“Yes. Thank you for luring her here. If not for hyung’s cleverly made up scenario, I’d have a harder time cornering her with no witnesses involved.”

Yoojin waves it off, shifting his gaze to the flourishing cherry blossom tree. Pink, gorgeous flowers fill the insides of the dense branches. This year’s cherry blossom blooming period has come early. “It wasn’t a big deal. She was already head over heels for you anyway.”

When no answer comes from Yoohyun, Yoojin returns his focus back to his brother. This needy dongsaeng does like to have his full attention when they’re having a conversation.

The blank, emotionless face turns visibly pleased.

“Hyung understands me the most.” There comes the croon, from a coquettish thing that knows how to utilise his long, pretty lashes to peer down his weak hyung, weak in body and heart.

How can anyone not be besotted by that magnetic charm?

Without any prior warning, black scraggly lines interspersed with lightning silver surge into Yoojin’s field of view, and engulf him in its entirety. The journal flops onto the now empty floor of the sprawling garden.

Yoojin’s heart is racing when he is next able to blink his eyes open (whenever it happens, it’s as if he’s transported in an immaterial plane, unable to utilise his five senses beyond the cool feeling of being embraced), and he finds himself situated on the plush surface of Yoohyun’s bed. On his left, there is a distinct sound of a lock clicking into place. Yoohyun removes his hand from the knob and turns to approach the elder brother who is splayed out on the bed.

He gets onto the soft mattress and wordlessly embraces Yoojin from behind. Without the guilt that used to (or appeared to use to) consume him all those years ago, after a hearty meal Yoohyun practically exudes a happy aura, like he’s drunk of dopamine, the feel-good chemicals associated with being full and sated.

Yoojin commands his body to be still, breath hitching involuntarily when he feels Yoohyun’s breath ghosting the nape of his neck, followed by Yoohyun’s warm lips descending on the top knob of his spine. The way Yoohyun clutches him, it’s as if he’s scared his skittish hyung will finally run away. 

Before long, the kisses have turned into sucking and light nibbling that Yoojin can tell will turn his sensitive skin red in barely no time. Yoohyun does have a propensity to turn greedy without restraint.

“Don’t make a mark, Yoohyun-ah. It’s too hot to wear something high collared tomorrow,” Yoojin whispers in a quiet voice.

“Just a bit. Please, hyung?”

Not fair. Countered by that adorable pleading voice, how can Yoojin ever deny his brother?

Yoojin lets Yoohyun continue lavishing the skin on the nape of his neck with kisses and nips. Next it’s the hands that wander, from his shoulder and down his chest in a slow trail, caressing the dip of his stomach before finally stopping at his bony hip. It squeezes experimentally.

Ever since Yoohyun’s shot to stardom in the hunter world, in some aspects it seems their roles have become reversed. Yoohyun goes beyond caring for Yoojin’s primary needs, he also makes a habit of showering his hyung with riches, like lavish gifts or out of the blue transferring a ridiculously exorbitant amount of money to Yoojin’s bank account whenever the whim hits him.

“You’ve gotten skinnier. Hyung tends to prioritise looking after the beasts instead of himself. We should pack more meat in you. How about some mukdalgabi and samgyeopsal? I’ll cook them for hyung tomorrow.”

Yoojin tilts his head slightly backward so he can put Yoohyun in his view.

Yoojin has noticed for a while now that Yoohyun’s eyes sometimes take on this light when he stares at Yoojin, almost as if he’s inspecting the food he has saved for a future meal. When Yoojin uses up whatever mysterious appeal he has in the eyes of this ever hungry younger brother, he’ll probably end up as nothing more than an incomplete carcass.

Although Yoojin doesn’t prefer to consume much meat, he’ll do his best to appease his brother’s expressed worries. Yoojin inhales, the air shuddering in his lungs. “Okay. How about we eat it together tomorrow?”

Until that time comes though, he needs to make sure Yoohyun understands the importance of laying low and to not get caught by the humans. So that he can live a long, undisturbed life.

“Yoohyun-ah, you need to be more careful. That stunt you pulled last week was too reckless. We were lucky that officer Song was distracted by the bug we planted beforehand so he didn’t see you with the body.”

The strange light in those beautiful black pools is replaced by pleased serenity.

“I have plenty of safety measures I’ve implemented to fool nosy detectives wanna be. I will never put hyung in danger.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about…” Yoojin sighs. Sometimes Yoohyun’s overconfidence causes his protective nature to fret and fuss, to instil a much needed sense of self-preservation into his carefree younger brother. “In any case I will make sure all the traces that can lead back to you will be cleanly erased. The next target’s capture also should be planned more thoroughly so there won’t be any loose ends, like last time. Give me a name and I’ll handle it.”

Yoohyun’s throat rumbles off a sound that much resembles a purr, the vibrations carrying into Yoojin’s body from the contact between their bodies. The red shining in his eyes glows stark in the darkness of the room. Yoohyun rearranges them so that they’re now chest to chest, squeezing his smaller hyung into bed and burrowing his face into Yoojin’s neck.

Yoojin’s arms automatically come up to return the embrace. “Aigoo… this cute dongsaeng of mine, really…”

When Yoohyun’s food bump presses into his own much flatter stomach, an unmistakable rush of satisfaction courses through Yoojin’s veins.

“I spoiled you too much, didn’t I?”

“I like it when hyung spoils me,” murmurs Yoohyun into his skin. “Hyung smells nice.”

Yoojin’s lips twist in a wry smile. “Am I your type?”

He certainly isn’t referring to the type that the magazine interviewer has asked Yoohyun that one time of which his blunt answer printed in that column has broken not only a few hearts in his fanbase. Even in two completely different contexts, Yoohyun’s answer has remained the same.

“Succulent, not oily skin. Not too much fat packed on firm muscles. On top of that, even through this flimsy barrier of skin and veins—” Twin, sharp points that are undeniably fangs press against Yoojin’s delicate neck as if to emphasise the point. “—your blood smells absolutely exquisite. Therefore, I can only assume you are, hyung.”

Yoojin supposes his build is similar to that of Kim Taehyun, one of Yoohyun’s most cherished meals. Yoohyun’s face was flushed from the happy hormones post feeding for days afterwards. To see such euphoria on his younger brother again, Yoojin definitely wants it, no–he craves it,  although he does wonder how long his consciousness will last to enjoy such a delightful view while being eaten alive, hopefully long enough to honour it permanently in what’s left of his memories. Although one has to wonder, will memories remain after someone’s passing? 

Yoojin secretly wishes they will, especially if they are beautiful. Much like stars in the night sky, to be kept alive eternally.

“Like I said, spoiled. Now you even fancy your own hyung as your meal?”

“You’ll let me?” The tone carries a hint of childish glee, of a child hearing their parent’s permission to break curfew or jump wildly on the sofa.

“Who knows…” A yawn spills out of Yoojin’s mouth, interrupting the incomplete sentence. The strains of his worn out body from corralling powerful magic beasts for the whole day hit him at once.

Yoohyun’s weight detaches off him, allowing Yoojin to breathe easier, as Yoohyun repositions himself to occupy the space next to Yoojin, still sticking close. “You should sleep now, hyung.”

Yoojin can’t help but chuckle softly. “How convenient is it to get your prey limp and defenceless with the guise of peaceful sleep?”

“Very.” Is the light-hearted answer from his too-spoiled little brother.

Yoojin isn’t exactly fighting to stay awake. He lets the familiar, beginning notes of a lullaby lull his consciousness into waning. The tender caresses of a warm, large hand against his midriff is as well far too comforting to resist. Yoojin falls asleep to the wandering thought that Yoohyun’s alluring voice resembles that of a siren who tempts its victims to their deaths.

Yoojin loves him, with all his being and beyond. This perfect predator of a little brother.