Chapter Text
Clouds in varying degrees of darkness plaster the skies in warning of a storm to come. As the first few drops of rain splatter onto the black umbrella above Jisung’s head, he realizes the storm has already come and has destroyed everything in its path.
His hair is tamed, just this once, slicked back and neat. His glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, eyes dull as they stare through the coffins ready to be lowered into the ground.
They still won’t tell them what caused it, why it was so sudden. The hospital refuses to show them the autopsy reports, claiming they haven’t yet determined the cause. He overheard a few of the first responders throw around the idea of a heart attack, which was ridiculous, because how would they both happen to have one at the exact same time?
Although he wasn’t buying the heart attack excuse, there truly wasn’t any other explanation. There was no signs of forced entry, no defensive wounds, and the neighbors hadn’t seen anything either.
The family was forced to accept the mysterious deaths and move forward with the funeral, as nothing else could be done. Jisung wanted his hands on the autopsy reports, no matter how long it took for them to determine what took his parents so suddenly.
Something tugs at the hand dangling uselessly at his side and grounds him once more. He looks down, comically slow, and meets eyes with his five-year-old son, Chan.
Donning a little black suit and the jean cap he always wore, the boy rocks side to side impatiently, big eyes blinking up at his father.
“Yes, Channie?” Jisung forces, voice hoarse.
“Can we go home now?” Chan asks, scrubbing ferociously at his eye with his free hand.
Jisung gently guides the boy’s hand away before his eyeball pops, then responds, “Sure.” He clears his throat, glancing over at his wife, Hyunjin, who looks at him expectantly, “Yeah, we can go.”
Instead of immediately sprinting to the car like the boy would in any other scenario, he instead waddles over to his mother and requests to be picked up and carried to the car, to which she silently fulfills his request. The family makes their way off of the grounds stiffly, a few sniffles tickling the back of his ear. He doesn’t bother waiting to see if the rest of the family would follow suit. He does, however, glance over his shoulder, his mind set on something (someone) very specific.
Auburn hair and big brown eyes fill his vision before he began to convince himself he isn’t looking for her, his heart leaping into his throat. She stares at him, her whole essence begging for every ounce of his attention. Those glistening eyes and pink lips tempt him, but only for a moment.
Not today, he tells himself. He chooses not to be such an atrocious stain on a day like this. She mouths something to him he can’t quite make out, not that he wants to, anyway. He huffs through his nose and continues forth to the car, aiding Chan into his carseat after he opens to the door for Hyunjin.
They depart, but not without a final glance from Jisung. Minho looks away only when they meet eyes for the second time. Seungmin whispers something to her, and they begin to leave as well, Minho hoisting a sleepy Yongbok into her arms.
Jisung drags his eyes away and deadpans at the road, pretending not to see Hyunjin’s eyes boring holes into his temple.
The ride back to the house is silent. Hyunjin and Jisung silently work together to get the kids ready for bed, or Chan, at least. Changbin is adamant on burning an extra thirty minutes before bed fucking around on the midi board he bought and attached to his laptop about a month ago. Jisung reminds him to keep it down for his brother in the next room, then closes the door without further word.
He showers, dresses, and crawls into bed beside Hyunjin, and yet they don’t do as much as brush arms. Not anymore.
That was long ago, far too long ago to feel like this lifetime, when Jisung would look at Hyunjin as if she held the moon in her eyes and the stars in those perfectly sculpted hands. She can only be spared glances now, acknowledging her presence for long enough that she knew he still at least had the decency not to disregard her entirely, but that was it. It pains him, if he’s honest. He’s tried many times to guide his heart back to the woman he started his family with, to the woman who convinced him getting married was worth it in the first place.
He can’t, and that’s what hurts the most.
His mind is infected with her. Her amber hair and sickly sweet lips. Her pointed nose and large eyes. Her carefully crafted figure and the tight clothes she parades herself around in during family gatherings because she knows Jisung is a man who falls easily into temptation.
He’ll trail behind her like a lost puppy, stumbling into one of the spare bedrooms of their grandparent’s house (bless their souls, the sins he’s committed within the walls of their home) and lock themselves away. He’d drop to his knees and worship every inch of her, tearing her away clothes meticulously with his teeth until she was a bare goddess before him, ready to be devoured.
He’d ravish her as if she was a meal to be beheld in one’s last moments before death, then force his clothes back on as evenly as possible, washing the lipstick stains from his neck before presenting himself to his (un)suspecting family once more.
He was fucked, really. No doubt about it. He had fallen into her web, an inferior bug writhing away with a shrivel of hope to escape, with his first love perched somewhere far away, watching him be consumed.
He wakes with a cold sweat, the bed empty and the sun blaring in his eyes, demanding he face the world for another day. He’s perpetually tired. Less than four hours of sleep every night will be his inevitable end.
Breakfast is just as silent as the night prior. Chan shovels spoonfuls of his favorite chocolate cereal into his mouth while Changbin prides himself in the omelet he managed all by himself (by himself, he means guided by his mothers hand the entire time and almost burning down the house, but it’s still endearing nonetheless). Hyunjin makes do with yogurt and granola, claiming she had been late for work before peppering kisses over her sons’ forehead and barely brushing her lips over Jisung’s cheek before she flies out the door.
He has no right to be upset, he reminds himself.
He hurries the boys into finishing their breakfast, managing to get them in the car at around 7:30, just in time to get them to their respective schools before classes start at 8.
Just as he predicted, he gets both of them to school around 7:45, giving them just enough time to mingle before they get to class. He bids them both a farewell and a good day, pleased when he realizes he still has half an hour before he needs to head to the office. He’s been getting better with his time management, though he knows he can only attribute it to the adrenaline that surges through his veins when he knows he’ll have enough time for their meetings.
Surprise surprise (to absolutely no one, as whatever god is torturing Jisung makes sure to eliminate every obstacle possible to ensure he’ll fall so easily into temptation), Minho starts work at the same time as Jisung, though he can’t tell if its because she was scheduled at that time by the company or specifically asked for the schedule herself. Not that he cares, of course, as long as he gets to see her.
She slips into his car easily, auburn hair washing over her shoulders as she settles into the seat. She doesn’t immediately acknowledge Jisung, instead opting to stare ahead into the hospital parking lot.
Jisung stares at her as if she’s the sun in the sky, combing over every feature of hers as if he hasn’t seen them a million times, in a million different positions.
She’s wearing brighter makeup today, with glittery eyelids and plump pink lips. Jisung stares at her mouth for an ungodly amount of time, wishing to dip his tongue between the pillowy texture. She sighs after a while, her bunny teeth poking from beneath her upper lip.
She finally turns to Jisung, mischief in her eyes. She sets her duffel bag on the floor, her pink scrubs barely peeking from behind the zipper. She wears tight jeans and a white stop that hug the curve of her breasts far too well for Jisung to contain himself any longer. He might die, he might-
“You used to greet me properly before you started gawking at me,” Minho comments, but there’s no real bark behind her tone. The corner of her mouth lifts with a devious grin as she leans in closer, the crevice of her breasts more than visible as they behold a safe distance beneath Jisung’s nose.
He swallows thickly, wetting his mouth and clearing his throat. “Sorry. Still waking up.” He replies shortly.
“Right, of course.” She hums pridefully, leaning her shoulder against the black cloth of the seat. Tilting her head, she runs her tongue along the ring of her bottom lip.
“How’s Yongbok holding up?” Jisung asks, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere before she can continue poking at him.
“Oh, don’t do that.”
“I meant it, Minho.”
Minho giggles, which is a scary thing she has a habit of doing. It’s never a lighthearted giggle or because she finds something humorous, but because the gears are turning in that brain of hers and she’s fixing to say or do something terrible. “Don’t pretend to care about how my daughter is doing when you’re only here to screw her mother.”
“When you put it like that, you make it seem like I don’t give a fuck about either of you.” Jisung scoffs.
“Oh, jagi,” Minho coos (like she always does, when Jisung shows any sign of unpleasantry), brushing Jisung’s cheek with the back of her sculpted knuckles, “I know you care, I do.” Her eyes trace a line from his eyes to his lips. “Let’s just… worry about something else, yeah? I don’t want to think about any of that right now.”
“Me neither.”
“Then let me take your mind off of everything,” Minho offers, but she’s already hovering over Jisung’s lap before he can respond.
Quick as ever, she sinks between his thighs and makes a home there, getting comfortable in the tight space beneath the steering wheel somehow before she begins working his zipper and button loose. He has almost no time to protest, not that he would. His cock has been itching and straining in his pants since he turned the car off, even more so when Minho first got in the car.
He can’t recall the last time Hyunjin did this for him. He’s not sure she’s even thought about it in these past months.
Hyunjin disappears from Jisung’s mind the moment Minho’s pretty pink lips are wrapped around his angry red head, sucking the droplets of precum straight from the tip as if it were the blood of Christ. Something between a groan and a growl fester in Jisung’s throat, his nails clawing at the seat below him as Minho begins to go down on him.
“Ah, Minho!” He chokes, every cry of pleasure cut off with a groan or growl as Minho drags her tongue and teeth over all the spots she knows to be sensitive. Jisung already felt his release hovering over him, ready to hit him like a tidal wave. Minho would be the death of him.
Minho has already killed him and devoured the carcass.
He chants her name over and over like a mantra meant to bring the salvation that is his release, until he’s spilling down her throat with a strangled cry. He resists the urge to grasp onto her hair as he cums, fearing losing control and wildly fucking into her mouth until she’ll look unpresentable for work. He instead opts for stroking her cheek a few times before she pulls off of him with a content sigh.
Her flushed cheeks and swollen lips make him want to cum again, so he clears his throat and pretends to busy himself with the cars passing by on the freeway a few miles out. Minho giggles.
“I love when you do that,” she hums, “pretend like you’re indifferent to me after you’re satisfied. It’s like a little routine we have.” She almost sounds pleased about it.
“I just-” He clears his throat, checking his watch. “I’m gonna be late.”
“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” She climbs from between his quivering thighs and retrieves her bag, pushing the door open and sliding out of the car.
“Minho-” Jisung calls weakly.
“Have a good day, jagiya.”
The car door slams, and Jisung’s left alone with the grime of his sin once more.
He swallows down the sour taste in his mouth while he watches Minho walk away, fixing his slacks before he pulls out of the parking space and speeds off. He’s sure Minho can hear the turmoil she’s left him with. He hopes she does.
He arrives at the office in record time, thankful that the building was only a few blocks away. He checks once, twice, thrice, making sure he appeared presentable before he even dared to step foot out of his car. When he’s confident that he doesn’t look like he was just ravished, he leaves the car with his briefcase in hand.
Before his ass can even graze the seat at his desk, his supervisor, Sehun, is breathing down his neck. Jisung is grateful the smell of his fresh coffee is canceling out the stench of cigarettes he always carries around.
“Looks like you’re a little early today, Mr. Han,” Sehun greets, something lacing his tone that Jisung can never quite place, but it makes him want to gag every time.
“Yep,” He responds, popping the ‘p’. He settles into his seat and begins unloading his briefcase, trying his hardest to pretend Sehun isn’t there.
“I’ve been thinking,” the man begins. Jisung internally groans. “This project I’ve assigned to you doesn’t seem to be working with just you alone, so I was hoping you could work alongside one of our writers today. Perhaps that could speed up the process? You already have our story, we just need it written.”
“Right, okay,” Jisung agrees before Sehun can actually finish, because his hands are trembling and his patience is thin and he just wants Sehun to go away. He can’t work like this.
Sehun doesn’t quite read the room, ever. Yes, this project was assigned before his parents passed, but pushing him to keep trucking forward writing an article about Mystery Diseases that Kill isn’t exactly very empathetic. However, Jisung can’t afford to be fired for strangling the man, so he takes it on the chin instead.
“Great!” Sehun celebrates, either oblivious to Jisung’s irritation or blatantly ignoring it. “She’s actually on her way up here now, so I’ll send her straight here. Pleasure doin’ business with ya, Mr. Han.” Sehun winks, pivoting on his heels and slinking away. Jisung shivers and swallows yet another sour taste in his mouth.
This company is a smaller newswire, the floors (or, “branches”) are all dedicated to different pieces of the process, to make it easier for everyone involved. Jisung is more than sure they’re just cutting corners somehow, but he doesn’t care enough to think about it for longer than a few seconds at a time.
His branch is sort of a multi-variety, as some of his co-workers are reporters, while the others take the role of journalists. Jisung sort of falls into both categories, however, for the past week since he was assigned this project, he hasn’t been able to focus for long enough to even get a sentence on the document. Most days he just spends his time reviewing what they already have in hopes that something will come to him if he stares at the pages for long enough.
He doesn’t want to think about the fact that this creative block started around the time when his parents were calling less and their visits were beginning to dwindle. He definitely doesn’t want to a
acknowledge the violently cold chills he gets whenever he opens the documents.
“Jisung?” A voice that’s way too familiar pulls him out of his thoughts.
He swings his chair around and his heart drops into his stomach.
He somehow forgot Hyunjin also works here.
In his defense, they’re on entirely different floors and usually never cross paths. On a normal day, they don’t see each other until they return home. Hell, Hyunjin arrives and leaves much earlier than him. There were days early on in their marriage where they’d meet for lunch and spend the hour gushing over one another and sharing their food, which slowly dwindled to them giving each other a tight smile if they just happened to meet each other in the elevator.
“Oh, hey,” He manages pathetically, clearing his throat, “I didn’t realize you were gonna be the one helping me.”
“Is that a problem?” Her eyebrows furrow, her tone wavering like it always does when she talks to Jisung. He can’t recall the last time they had a normal conversation, without overthinking what the other has said or wondering whether a discussion about dinner could lead to an argument or not.
“No, no,” Jisung shakes his head, “of course not, come sit down.” He pulls a seat out for her to sit in the desk beside him. She chooses to keep some distance between them and Jisung pretends it doesn’t sting at his heart.
“Can I see what you’ve gotten so far?” She asks him after a few moments of silence.
Jisung scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I don’t have anything, really. Every time I started, it was the worst thing in the world to look at, and I was back at square one.”
Jisung can hear Hyunjin softly sigh under her breath. Something flickers in her eyes that tells Jisung she knows exactly why he can’t make any progress on the article. “Right,” she finally responds, sympathetic.
She tucks some strands of her raven hair behind her ears, reaching for one of the files Jisung has strewn across his desk. “How about you let me do the writing this time and you stick to reporting?”
“But I always write my own-”
“Jisung, please. We aren’t getting anywhere at this rate.” She begs, big eyes convincing him immediately.
In the end, Hyunjin’s word is final, and for the next few hours, Jisung chimes in every now and then as Hyunjin works away on the computer. Eventually, night falls and they’re the last ones left in the office.
“Alright, that’s about it,” Hyunjin says softly. “You can tweak it as much as you’d like, but the base of it is finished.”
“Thank you, so much,” Jisung breathes gratefully, “I mean it.”
Hyunjin cracks the smallest of smiles, shaking her head gently. “You don’t have to thank me, just don’t expect this often.” She punctuates with the hint of a chuckle.
“Got it,” Jisung sharply nods, barely concealing his grin.
“We should get home now,” Hyunjin suggests in a near whisper, already rising from the chair. “Seungmin texted a while ago saying he was having a movie night with the boys since he finished work early.”
Jisung’s heart drops, sinking into the cavern. That’s why she kept checking her phone. Does he really have a right to be jealous?
“Oh, alright then,” Jisung responds as coolly as he can manage. “We should pick up something on the way home, I don’t think cooking is in the cards tonight.”
Hyunjin nods gently in response, combing through her hair with a lazy hand. “I’ll call Seungmin to see what the boys are hungry for.”
“Hyunjin?” Jisung calls, as if afraid the woman would disappear if he looked away for too long.
“Hm?”
He turns to her, suddenly holding both of her hands in his, a tight smile on his lips. “I love you, you know that?”
You always do that, the little voice in the back of his head berates him.
He can see it in Hyunjin’s glassy eyes too, a look that reads nothing more than, you love me only when you feel you are to be replaced.
“Yes, I know.” She finally says. Silence hangs between them for a moment before she adds, “I love you, too.”
“I miss you.”
“Do you?”
Jisung’s throat is suddenly dry. “Of course, I do. I’ve always missed you. I don’t like this distance between us.”
“I don’t either.”
“Then let’s be the way we used to, yeah?” Jisung barely conceals his smile through his words, leaning in closer. He sniffs, scrunching his nose to tame the itch just below the frame of his glasses, something that coaxes a smile out of Hyunjin.
This cycle will never end.
“Okay. Let’s.” She says so softly that Jisung almost misses it, then keeps her hold on his hand as she leads him out of the office.
The ride home consists of Jisung keeping hold of Hyunjin’s hand the entire way, devastated when he has to leave the car to retrieve the pizza the boy’s requested during the phone call with Seungmin.
They come home to the boys sprawled out on the main couch in front of the television, concerningly invested in the superhero movie playing on screen. Clanking can be heard in the kitchen, so Jisung takes the boxes of pizza with him to check.
“Pizza’s on the counter when you want it!” Jisung calls to the boys before disappearing around the corner. Hyunjin sinks onto the couch beside her sons, the boys peeling their eyes away from the screen for just a moment to greet their mother before returning to their trance.
Jisung enters the kitchen to Seungmin filling three glass cups with soda, the bottle nearing the end before he sets it on the counter beside the glasses. When he notices Jisung’s presence, he turns his head and nods politely in his direction before assembling the cups in his grasp and beginning to carry them out of the kitchen.
As Seungmin passes him to leave the kitchen, Jisung barely stops him with his shoulder. “Don’t you think you should be getting home, now?”
Seungmin scoffs softly, looking over the brim of his glasses as he tilts his chin downward. “I was planning to, anyway. Is there a reason why you’re rushing me out so soon?”
Jisung huffs through his nostrils, looking his brother up and down. “I don’t see a reason for you to stay any longer.”
“Ah, I see,” Seungmin chuckles, suddenly humored. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what again?”
“Being jealous, what else?” Seungmin says, scoffing again before he continues out into the living room without giving Jisung a chance to defend himself.
Jisung seethes where he stands. It takes every bone in his body not to whip around and follow Seungmin into the living room, mostly because he doesn’t wish for his boys to see him fight with their uncle over something so petty (is it really petty though, or is it much deeper than that?). Instead, he takes a deep breath and releases it shakily, deciding to head to their bedroom instead of joining the others. He’ll just have to hope that they leave some pizza for him, otherwise it’s another night of instant ramen for him.
He spends the next hour showering and freshening up, throwing on a white top and gray sweatpants for the night and crawling into bed with a book, quickly growing immersed and unaware of the time passing him by.
This is, until, Hyunjin quietly enters the room after what he assumes to be an hour or two, though he can’t be sure, in her pajamas and with her raven locks tied into a bun, an unpleasant expression on her face.
“Why didn’t you eat with us?” She asks, her tone soft despite her obvious irritation. “The boys were asking for you.”
The bed dips beside him as she climbs into the dark gray sheets, pulling them up to her torso and leaning against the bed frame. “Wasn’t feeling too good,” he responds after some silence, closing his book around the bookmark and setting it on the nightstand beneath the lamp.
“Well, that was sudden.” Is all she says. She knows. She always knows. Jisung doesn’t even know himself.
“Jinnie, I don’t want to argue, please.” Jisung says softly.
“I wasn’t trying to argue with you, Jisung.” She sighs, wiggling fully into the sheets and turning onto her side, facing her back to Jisung.
He follows suit, turning off the lamp and curling up behind her, wrapping his arm over her torso. “I love you, you know that?”
“I love you too, Jisung. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
He never falls asleep. In fact, his eyes don’t close for longer than a few seconds at a time. Something is haunting him, and yet he can’t place what it is.
Well, he could. Probably the fact that he’s cheating on the one person he vowed loyalty to, and no matter how hard he tries to stay faithful, that damned woman keeps roping him back in like a cursed siren.
He doesn’t even know if he loves Minho, not that it would fix anything. He knows he loves Hyunjin, probably less than before, but he still loves her. When he’s with Minho, the line between love and lust blur and he can’t differentiate what he feels for the sinful woman. It’s torture, yet he craves more of it every time.
Sometimes, the atrocities in the small corners of his mind grow monstrous in the middle of the night. He’ll wish one of them dead (preferably Minho) so he can be released from his torment of an impossible choice. He knows this is an absolutely ludicrous thought and the idea is snapped away as quickly as it comes, and he spends the night horrified and disgusted with himself for even thinking it, only getting a few hours of sleep by the time the sun rises.
He mentally prepares himself for another one of those nights, preparing to bury his face into Hyunjin’s hair and sigh when he hears a faint knocking at the door. He chalks it up to him imagining things in his self-deprecating haze, because nobody could possibly be at their door at this hour, and continues his fruitless attempts at sleeping.
The knocking continues.
And continues.
And continues, growing faster as time goes on.
Jisung throws the blanket off of him in frustration, then startles himself when he realizes he could have awoken Hyunjin. His next steps are slow and quiet.
Who could possibly be visiting them this late in the night?
Jisung slips out of bed carefully, choosing not to acknowledge how easy it’s gotten for him. He slides his feet into his slippers and makes his way downstairs, going for the window beside the entrance instead of the door to see who had been outside before he even thought of opening the door.
He creeps up to the curtains, hand steady as he uses his index and ring finger to part the slit carefully, just enough to peek through. He leans in, his eyesight taking a few moments to adjust until he can clearly see the nightfallen neighborhood outside. Nobody is outside, so he fixes to step back when his heart plummets into the void.
A frantic Minho suddenly fills the space in the gap, wild eyes darting around in an attempt to see inside. Jisung jumps back immediately, but he’s sure Minho saw him already.
His heart thuds wildly in his chest, rising and falling dramatically as he claws at the hem of his shirt in an attempt to ground himself.
Minho was bold, very bold, but never bold enough to blatantly show up to his house in the middle of the night. Judging by the faint pink he could see before fleeing the window, Minho had to have just come back from work. What reason could she possibly have to drive all the way here instead of home?
He takes a moment to collect himself, before quietly opening the door and slipping through before Minho can force herself inside, shutting the door behind him.
Uneven breathing is suddenly in his ear before he can fully turn around, Minho clawing at his forearm.
“What the hell?!” Jisung whisper-yells. “Why are you here? What is wrong with you?”
Jisung is able to fully get a look at Minho’s appearance now that he’s outside. Her dirtied and torn pink scrubs, disheveled hair, smeared makeup and frantic eyes. She looks like a wild animal and Jisung seriously considers bolting back into the house before she tries to eat him like one, but his empathy overshadows his fears and he screws him in place, instead choosing to calmly grasp her wrists and try to calm her down.
“Jisung, please,” she begs, but Jisung’s not sure what for. “Please help me, it hurts.”
“Minho, what happened to you, where’s Seungmin?” Jisung asks calmly this time. He automatically assumes the worst—that Seungmin had done something to her and the first place she thought to go was here.
“I can’t go to Seungmin,” She breathes erratically, further scaring Jisung, “I don’t know what I’ll end up doing to him.”
Now he’s even more confused. He looks her up and down, probably for the millionth time since he’s come out here. Minho really does look like a wild animal. Jisung now wonders if Minho might have hurt someone before she came here, and now comes to Jisung in fear of being caught.
If he’s being honest with himself, it’s hard to come to any conclusion at all when he’s half asleep and as confused as he is.
If he’s brutally honest, Seungmin should be the one dealing with Minho right now.
Why was she so scared of going to Seungmin, but not him?
She’s decided to maul me instead, he thinks. “What are you talking about?” He says instead.
“One of my patients,” she wheezes, coughing before continuing. “He- He attacked me! I don’t know what was wrong with him, I don’t even remember most of it, but since then I’ve been having these... urges.”
“Minho, I’m confused.” Jisung says tiredly.
“I want to eat people, Jisung,” Minho cries. “That’s all I can think about. Everyone I look at, it’s just...” She trails off.
When Jisung is silent, she continues. “All I could think about is how your brother would taste when I got home! All I could see was the horrible things I would do to him when I got my hands on him, it’s been this endless torment all day!”
Jisung takes a step back. He doesn’t like where this is headed, not one bit.
She has decided to maul him instead.
Minho notices. She looks offended. “Jisung.”
“You should go to the hospital, Minho.” Jisung says, with his hand on the doorknob. Minho narrows her gaze, upper lip quivering. Jisung just barely catches a glimpse of a tooth that seems far too sharp to be in her mouth. “I can’t help you.”
“You can.” She breathes. “Right? That’s what we do; help each other, right?”
“This is far beyond me, Minho.” Jisung tries to reason. Minho giggles. What’s funny?
Jisung twists the doorknob, ready to bolt off, it’s too late.
The screwed-up part about it is that he can’t even scream for help.
Her fangs sink into his neck so quickly that he doesn’t realize she’s stabbing at his throat until he’s pressed onto the concrete porch beneath her.
It’s sick, the sounds she makes. She growls, moans, grunts as his blood pours into her mouth, probably onto the ground as well judging by the hot stream he can feel trickling onto his back.
The pain is absolutely horrible, but not as horrible as the feeling stabbing through his heart when he’s faced with the fact that Minho would rather maul him than Seungmin.
Perhaps this is divine timing. He doesn’t have to choose between Minho and Hyunjin because Minho has taken it upon herself to take him out of the equation entirely. Brilliant.
Jisung allows his eyes to flutter shut. The void takes him peacefully.