Chapter Text
moon drunk monster
beautiful and strange
howl your melancholy question
and tell me
which you dread more
the echo or the answer
- @shminsington, 2018
[🌕]
Sim Jaeyun is a monster more days than he's not.
He was a monster last night, existing as something so far removed from being human. Gross, filthy. On the days he's a monster, there exists inside of him a carnal suffering that couldn't be blown out like a flame.
And yet, he's told that this suffering is a blessing. A gift from the Moon Goddess, only bestowed upon a single child of the Moon every century.
Jaeyun is the unlucky soul to receive it.
On the days he's human, he's grateful for a lot of things. The ability to wander the city like he's normal, the feeling of the sun tickling his skin, for a body that despite its constant dilemma of pain, still lets him go on a million different adventures with Heeseung and Riki—
But when he's a monster, his bones aching after they snap and crack and reform into a beast he can't even bear to see in the mirror, all he can think about is how awful it is to live with this curse, even if he knows it would make Heeseung and Riki upset to hear it.
It happened again last night, when the full moon settled in the sky. The transformation.
He snapped and cracked and broke in ways his mind always struggled to comprehend, blinding him with a burning that couldn't be satisfied with the empty cavity in his soul.
He could not bear the sight of his reflection like this, could not bear his pack looking at him in that sorry state. Even though they all shifted, were all monsters—
Somehow he was always the worst of them all. Towering above the rest, flesh raw and rippling, eyes glowing a yellow that haunted him if he ever caught a glance. He shouldn’t be so hideous, he shouldn't be—and yet last night it happened again. He hates it. He hates it.
But even despite that, they stayed. They're the only people who keep his mind sound, the only ones who have stayed ever since he was twelve and realized how horrible of a beast he was under the full moon.
He's grateful for them. For Heeseung, who is his reliable older brother now, who gives him advice when he's not sure when to go and gives him comfort when he feels like he's falling apart.
For Riki, who somehow manages to brighten up his mood and distract him from the pain with his endless laughter and rattling chatter, who lets him take care of him like an older brother should, even if Riki still insists he's all grown up—
And even after an agonizing night, when he slips into his bed and closes his eyes to try to forget the burning—perhaps he's grateful for the lingering dreams that gnaw at the back of his mind.
Of the silhouette of a figure he knows is the fated mate the Moon Goddess had created for him to find, dancing under the moonlight, sweetly scented like vanilla and coffee—for giving him some kind of hope that attempts to settle his very being.
In the dreamworld, they were always beautiful, even if he couldn't tell if they were a man, a woman, a werewolf like him—and they moved with impressive grace and fluidity that reminded him of water, taking delicate steps beneath the glow of the moon as they twist and turned and finally noticed him, pausing only for a moment before they continued to sway.
If he wandered close enough to the silhouette, he could smell every nuance—sweet but not overly saccharine, rich with robust notes of blueberry and chocolate in the coffee, laced with the warmth of milk and sugar. He could breathe it in and engrain it into every crevice in his mind.
The figure never let him get too close, however, often drifting away with every step he took, graceful yet quick, like the breeze. Part of the journey he was cursed with was the chase, spending the years without his other half aching in ways he couldn't quite put into words.
But sometimes, under the moonlight, he could see the glimmer of the silhouette’s eyes cutting through the darkness and into his soul. Though he could barely tell, he could see a soft brown peeking through, the lashes teasing the corners of their eyes as they smiled, before whispering the same message he's heard before, soft and breathy.
Jaeyun, they'd say. He couldn't tell who they were or where they could be, but they always called out like he was close enough to know. Find me.
The dream would always end just as the silhouette was starting to become vaguely clearer, their hand just about to reach out, fingers moments from grazing his face—leaving him to wake up breathless, the scent of vanilla and coffee still lingering in his lungs even if he knew he hadn't breathed it in.
He's had different variations of the same dream for five years now, yet nothing changes.
The message still lingers in the air. Their scent still haunts him.
And when the dream is forgiving enough to allow him to see the moonlight dance against the surface of their skin—the pain that often bubbles beneath the surface, even in unconsciousness, disappears for a moment.
And that moment is enough for him to crave them more than anything, waking up with an empty heart and an ache that made him feel worse than he had last night.
~
Every time it happens, where he goes when he wakes up is always the same. Like usual, he finds himself standing in Heeseung’s doorway by dawn.
Heeseung hadn’t even flinched when he noticed him, gazing up at Jaeyun from his bed, reaching out an arm sleepily. He had grown used to it—to the complaints about the discomfort of the shift, the lingering ache of the visions—the pain.
It had all started years ago, and never left.
“Come here, Jaeyunie,” he mumbles, watching Jaeyun trudge over to the bed, quiet. He never wondered why Jaeyun was here, of course—but only wondered if things had been made more evident. Signs, hints, anything that could tell them who they were and where they could be.
“Tell me what you saw.”
“They…they were there again, hyung,” Jaeyun whispers, hesitantly sitting down on the bed, as Heeseung reached out to gently pat his hand that he didn't even realize was twitching.
“Under the moonlight. Dancing. They smelled so sweet and I kept getting closer and they kept moving away…and they told me to find them again. The dream stopped before they could touch my face but…those eyes. I can't stop thinking about them.”
“Were you able to see them more clearly?”
“Not really,” Jaeyun admits. “But I could see their eyes were brown. A pretty, soft brown—maybe it's darker in the light, but under the glow of the moon…they were brown.”
“That's at least more than you knew last time,” Heeseung smiles, carefully sitting up. “Still no other hints?”
“No,” Jaeyun shakes his head. “Nothing outside of that and their scent. Even their voice…you couldn't tell. Yet they keep asking me to find them.”
“Maybe that means they must be closer than you think,” Heeseung says. “Because they've been asking for you to find them, talking to you, more than before. I think it's a sign from the Moon Goddess.”
“It would be kinder of her to give me more to work with,” he mumbles. “Because when I take them in for that fraction of a second, I don't feel the ache anymore—but afterwards, it lingers longer. It…it hurts longer.”
Heeseung frowns at that. He knows that out of all the burdens this blessing has placed upon him, the lingering pain was the thing that made Heeseung and Riki the most upset.
It was a lingering feeling that rested deep beneath his skin, penetrating muscle and bone with an uncomfortable sensation. It got worse after the dreams, but it never fully went away, except for those few glimpses of his fated mate in the dream world that seemed to act like a drug.
They make up the other half of your soul, Heeseung had told him one night, years ago, when the pain was bordering on unbearable.
He had laid in Heeseung's bed, as the older man gently mused his hair, and Riki, who had been alarmed by the visible pain written all over Jaeyun's face, curled up behind him, hoping that affection would ease it.
It wouldn't.
I believe the longer they're away from you, the more your soul unravels at the seams, struggling to bear the weight of that absence. The pain…the pain seems to be a sign from Her that you need them sooner than we had realized, Jaeyunie.
He had gotten desensitized to it, more than he knew Heeseung and Riki would like—but after the dreams started, growing more and more vivid—it became more apparent.
The ache felt like a slow burn coiling beneath his flesh, igniting his body in a way that made him feel like his fate was taunting him.
Find me, they say—but it feels like they're just out of reach. Find me Jaeyun.
“Jaeyunie,” Heeseung calls out, thumbing at the back of his hand. “Why don't you lie down here for a little while? I'll give you that pain remedy.”
Jaeyun grimaces at that. Heeseung always believed more in the traditional parts of werewolf culture—and as much as it helped in aiding their knowledge of Jaeyun's condition—the remedies the traditional texts provided that he referenced left much to be desired.
“Hyung,” he whines. “Do you have to?”
“It only helps if you take it enough, Jaeyun,” Heeseung replies, gaze narrowing. “And I have let you skip a few too many doses.”
“I feel like it hasn't done anything—”
“Because you've grown accustomed to what little I give you,” Heeseung retorts. “When you’ve been in pain for so long, those doses feel like nothing. I need to increase how much I have been giving you anyway.”
“Do you think that will help?”
“We can see if it will,” Heeseung says, patting the bed as he stands up, ruffling his messy hair. “I'm willing to try anything if there's a chance it'll make you feel better.”
Jaeyun wants to argue about it, that Heeseung worries about him too much, that he's grown accustomed to it to the point where it feels like something minor, even if it's bothersome—
But he keeps quiet, knowing that this is one of the few things Heeseung feels that he has the ability to help manage—
Because during those full moons, Jaeyun refuses to let either of them get close.
“Okay,” Jaeyun sighs, laying down upon the rumpled sheets. “Okay, hyung.”
“I'll make you food too, to help it go down easier,” Heeseung adds, musing Jaeyun's hair. “What do you—”
“Can you make me rameyeon?”
Heeseung pauses, before letting out a soft laugh, ruffling his hair affectionately.
“Of course,” Heeseung smiles. “With spam?”
“Yeah,” Jaeyun mumbles. “With spam, hyung.”
“Okay,” Heeseung hums. “While I'm up, I'll make sure Riki is awake. Do you want him to give you some company?”
“Sure,” Jaeyun says, letting out a snort. “I'm sure he has some new game to talk to me about anyways.”
Heeseung laughs in agreement, thumbing at Jaeyun's cheek before he starts to pull away.
“It'll get better soon, Jaeyunie,” he murmurs. “We’ll find them soon. If the visions are getting clearer—surely, they must be close, and then the pain can disappear.”
“I hope so,” Jaeyun admits. “Even if the pain doesn't fully go away…I just want to see them dance, to see their eyes…to hear them say my name without it being so distant.”
He watches as Heeseung falters for a moment at that, before he slowly pulls his hand away.
“Yeah,” he breathes out. “That would be nice, wouldn't it?”
“It would,” Jaeyun whispers. “…it would.”
“You'll find them soon, Jaeyun,” Heeseung repeats. “I'll make sure of it.”
Jaeyun doesn't say anything to that, but he lets Heeseung know he appreciates the reassurance by sending him a smile.
“Try to get as much rest as you can before Riki bounds in,” Heeseung suggests, making his way towards the door. “We can all try to have a slow morning.”
“Yeah,” Jaeyun murmurs, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “That would be nice.”
He hears Heeseung let out a soft breath before padding over to the doorway, letting the door shut behind him, as Jaeyun tries to find rest that's less exhausting.
And if he saw a glimpse of that silhouette again, their eyes fixated on him as they performed behind closed eyes—
He’ll take the chance he gets to see the corners of their eyes scrunch up, as though they are smiling, as some kind of mercy—
Because for a moment, the pain dissipates like it was never there to begin with.
~
Just as Heeseung had warned him, Riki had made his way into Heeseung's bedroom rather quickly, slipping past the creaking door into the room.
Their heightened hearing made it hard for stealth to be remotely a concept in their house, so when he senses Riki trying to be extra quiet, he lets out a laugh as he opens his eyes to let him know he didn't have to try.
Riki pauses, gazing down at Jaeyun for a moment, before rather unceremoniously plopping down on the bed. Jaeyun lets out a grunt when one of Riki's lanky limbs hits him in the chest as he wriggles himself beneath Jaeyun's chin, like he was still smaller than him.
“Ah, Riki-ah…” Jaeyun groans, letting a hand drift to his ribs. “Are you trying to take me out while I'm down?”
“I'm not trying to,” Riki huffs, rolling his eyes. “But if you would like me to, I could shift right here and—”
“As if,” Jaeyun rolls his eyes, looking down at Riki with a quirked brow. “Hyung told you not to shift in the house. Before you could take me out, he would get to you first.”
Riki opens his mouth to retort, but falls silent quickly, lips curling into a pout.
“You're no fun, hyung.”
“Be glad I'm warning you before you find out for yourself the consequences,” Jaeyun replies. “Remember last time?”
He watches as Riki's eyes widen for a moment at the memory, before his eyebrows furrow.
“It wasn't that bad,” Riki grumbles. “We needed a new couch anyway.”
“Sure we did,” Jaeyun hums. “Tell that to hyung's wallet.”
“I came here to be nice to you because you're all achy, and you're being mean to me,” Riki scowls, getting ready to slip out of the bed. “I should just leave—”
Before Riki can finish his sentence, Jaeyun wraps his arms around him tight, keeping the younger locked in his grip as Riki lets out a yelp.
“Hyung!”
“You're not going anywhere,” Jaeyun laughs, nuzzling the top of his head, eliciting a flurry of complaints from Riki for messing up his hair, when Jaeyun knew it would get messy anyways with how eagerly he shifted.
They could all shift from human to wolf as they pleased, after all. They were only restricted from shifting into a proper werewolf unless it was under the full moon, but Riki took advantage of that more than Heeseung and Jaeyun ever did.
If it was up to him, he'd be a wolf more than a human—but after getting scolded by Heeseung for almost getting caught by humans when he shifted a little too close for comfort near passerbys, he's been a little more cautious, taking to the woods near their place when he wants to feel the breeze against his fur.
“Who’s going to emotionally support me when hyung comes up here with that remedy, huh?”
Riki whines, but doesn’t argue. He goes limp soon enough in Jaeyun's grip, allowing the older man to affectionately ruffle his hair, as Jaeyun distracts himself from the ache in his bones by prodding at Riki's interests. He'd been spending more time outside their pack house than inside nowadays, eager to go to dance classes or the woods—whatever satiated the itch better.
And just like always, by the time Riki has tangled Jaeyun up, tossing his arm or leg over the older as he talks about his dance classes and the choreo he’s learning and briefly about the new game he's decided to try from what was recommended by the people his age in those classes too—
Heeseung opens the door with one hand, as the other carefully balances a tray with a steaming hot bowl of rameyeon and a glass of the remedy and water.
“Jaeyunie,” he calls out softly, smiling at the sight of Riki all curled up against him. “Hi, Riki-ah.”
“Hi hyung,” Riki says back, wrapping his arms tightly around Jaeyun's midriff. “Should I hold him down for the remedy?”
“I’d like to think that Jaeyun's old enough to handle it without fighting it,” Heeseung hums. “But you know, it's possible. The cold sores—”
“You can't blame me for that!” Jaeyun butts in to defend himself. “You're putting medicine on the parts of my mouth that hurt!”
“I'll hold him,” Riki decides, giggling as he keeps Jaeyun firmly in his hold. “Then you can eat all the rameyeon you want, hyung. That's the deal.”
Jaeyun whines, but it's impossible to fight that. He sighs, wondering how Riki had gotten so strong as Heeseung places the tray on the bedside and lifts up the glass of remedy for him to consume.
“It'll only be bad for a moment, Jaeyunie, promise,” Heeseung tells him, trying to coax him to open his mouth. “It'll help with the pain.”
Jaeyun's lips press thin for a moment, before reluctantly opening his mouth, nose scrunching as Heeseung pours the liquid in as quick as he can. He closes his mouth and grimaces at the bitter aftertaste, more prominent than ever before, trying to fight the gagging as he squirms in Riki's grip until the younger finally lets go.
“There,” Heeseung smiles. “Was that so bad?”
“It was awful,” Jaeyun complains. “I hate it.”
“But you’re done,” Riki supplies. “And it should make you feel less achy.”
“Yeah,” Jaeyun mutters. “It better.”
“Come on, don't sulk,” Heeseung coos, ruffling Jaeyun's hair. “I put extra spam in your rameyeon.”
“You did?”
“It's the least I can do for how much you hate the remedy,” Heeseung says with a soft laugh, as Jaeyun pushes Riki away to sit up on the bed eagerly, eliciting a complaint from the youngest. “Eat up before you get nauseous from it.”
“Thank you, hyung,” Jaeyun replies with a smile, eagerly taking the bowl into his hands as well as the chopsticks that Heeseung offers him. “You're the best.”
“All it takes is rameyeon?” Riki says incredulously. “You have low standards, hyung, seriously.”
Jaeyun rolls his eyes, the most he can do with his mouth full of noodles, but Heeseung sends Riki a softened glare on his behalf.
“Let him enjoy it, Riki-ah,” Heeseung scolds gently. “He had the vision, after all.”
“Again?” Riki asks, wide-eyed as he sits up, the motion almost rocking the hot broth out of the bowl. “After the shift last night too? Wait, does that mean—”
“Nothing new,” Jaeyun interrupts, letting out a soft sigh. “At least nothing important. Their eyes are brown.”
“There's billions of people with brown eyes,” Riki replies, eyebrows furrowing. “What kind of vision is that? Aren't they supposed to tell you more about your…your life line or whatever—
“His lifeblood,” Heeseung corrects. “The visions are supposed to get clearer as time goes on. With fate, it makes you wait for the hints to grow clearer. But—”
“It hasn't happened yet,” Jaeyun finishes for him. “And the pain’s only getting worse afterwards. I can't even tell if they're in this city or in another country entirely.”
“But that's—!” Riki starts to complain, before going quiet, lips curling into a pout. “But that’s not fair. It's been years since you shifted and you felt the tug, and it's been years since you started having these visions. Isn't the Moon Goddess supposed to give you a fighting chance?”
“It's complicated, Riki-ah,” Heeseung tries to tell him. “I was talking to the elders when I went into the woods, and it entirely depends on the wolf. On their soul, their lifeblood’s soul, the idea of the right time—”
“The right time was over five years ago, before the aches started,” Riki argues. “The Moon Goddess is supposed to be kind, not a bully to him—”
“Riki-ah,” Heeseung sighs. “I know, but I guess She’s decided that—”
“This is stupid,” Riki huffs. “This whole lifeblood thing. Why does he have to suffer to find his other half? Why can’t they just show up and take responsibility and make him feel better—”
“Guys—”
“It's never that simple, Riki-ah, even if we want it to be,” Heeseung attempts to explain. “Sometimes these blessings act in unprecedented ways. We can't demand that fate happens tomorrow—”
“But it should if fate is merciful, if the Moon Goddess is merciful,” Riki retorts. “Hyung should be complete and fixed. No more aches, no more remedies.”
“Riki-ah—”
“I'm going to go for a run,” Riki says suddenly, moving off of the bed quickly, his jaw clenched. “This is stupid. So stupid. I hate it, I hate it.”
“Riki,” Heeseung says softly. “I know it's hard—”
“If I have to hunt down that other half myself I will,” Riki interrupts. “And I will.”
“Riki, you can't—”
Before Heeseung can argue with him for any longer, Riki storms out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Jaeyun's bowl is settled in his hands, half-finished as his stomach churns.
“He…” Heeseung trails off, shaking his head with a sigh. “I don't know what to do with him.”
“He's this upset about all of this?” Jaeyun asks. “Really? About what's happening to me?”
“You should have seen his face when I came into his room and asked him to give you company through the pain,” Heeseung says. “He wants to hurry all of this up for your sake, of course, but…I keep telling him we can't mess with fate, even if it's unreasonable.”
“He's stubborn, hyung,” Jaeyun murmurs. “Always has been. I'm not surprised he wants to change it for himself.”
“But the lifeblood is delicate, Jaeyun,” Heeseung mutters. “We can't…we can’t just make them appear. It's been five years, your visions should be clearer, but…it seems like she’s keeping them hidden.”
“And She only makes the pain worse,” Jaeyun mumbles. “It feels like She’s playing a trick on me, hyung. Like some kind of awful prank.”
“We’d at least be able to laugh if it was one,” Heeseung replies with a weak smile. “But I wish this was all some joke too, Jaeyunie. At least then it would be bearable for all of us.”
“I'm sorry to put you through this, hyung,” Jaeyun apologizes. “If I had known that the shifting ceremony would have brought this upon us, I wouldn't have even tried—”
“We're not angry at you, Jaeyun,” Heeseung interrupts. “It's just a cruel fate that she's making you suffer and wait so long for a person we aren't even sure is here.”
“Maybe the visions will get clearer,” Jaeyun suggests. “Maybe they could give me hints on where they could be. I could explore the area when I can, hyung, and maybe see if this place is even worth lingering by for a few more years.”
“I hope so,” Heeseung mutters. “I hope so for your sake, Jaeyun, that this won't take much longer.”
“That's all I want, hyung,” Jaeyun says. “Answers. They have to be real. They have to fill the void. They have to tame the monster like they're supposed to do.”
Heeseung doesn't say anything to that. Jaeyun's stomach churns, no longer feeling hungry.
The room is silent for a while besides the sound of Jaeyun setting his half-finished bowl upon the tray, the chopsticks laying neatly beside it.
“Maybe I'm not looking hard enough,” Jaeyun mumbles. “Maybe I'm just not seeing the signs. That’s why it hurts more, why when I turn, it gets worse. I'm just not looking hard enough for them.”
“Jaeyunie,” Heeseung says softly, taking Jaeyun's hand in his own. “You've been looking hard enough.”
“It feels like I haven't—”
“You have,” Heeseung insists. “It just hasn't been fruitful yet. We can believe, but…the lifeblood needs to flow soon, if we want the pain to end. The next full moon is in thirty days. If your werewolf form was excruciating as it was last night, it could…”
Heeseung trails off, squeezing Jaeyun's hand tight.
“Let's pray that She gives us an answer we’ll like before those thirty days happen, Jaeyunie. If it's bad again, I…”
“I wouldn't be able to handle it either,” Jaeyun admits quietly. “So I'm hoping.”
I'm hoping the lifeblood can flow—
And I pray that by some miracle, or mercy, that I will be able to find you soon.
[🌑]
He's shrouded in darkness, nursing a cup of tea. Chamomile, the kind he'd hope would help him sleep. It's too early for him to be up, but his mind only keeps him awake.
The moon outside reminds him of what he saw behind closed eyes.
He can't muse on it for too long, however, because just as he had anticipated, the lights flick on, accompanied by a familiar voice.
“Again?”
“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Again, Jay-ah.”
“This is the fourth time this week, Hoon,” Jay groans, approaching him with furrowed brows, his eyes still half-lidded with sleep, taking a seat by his side. “Seriously? Are you sure you aren't just having some weird nightmare?”
“It's not scary,” Sunghoon mumbles. “Just weird. That creature…it's strange. It's neither man nor beast, and all it did was just…stare. Stare and mumble the word mine until I woke up.”
“That sounds like some corny bullshit from Twilight,” Jay snorts. “Sunoo made you watch it with him again, right?”
“Yeah, of course he did but…” Sunghoon laughs, before his voice trails off. “I don't think it has anything to do with that, even if sometimes, the…the thing I'm seeing feels like it's trying to…to woo me.”
“Woo you? You do realize how insane that sounds, right?” Jay asks, raising his brows. “Hoon-ah, are you sure it's not some sort of weird side effect from the new medication?”
“No,” Sunghoon shakes his head. “Amitriptyline isn't supposed to give me weird dreams.”
Jay frowns at that.
“But what it was supposed to do was to help you sleep,” Jay argues. “And this, whatever it is, isn't helping.”
“They said it would take a while,” Sunghoon retorts. “And…well, these dreams have been here for a while too. They’ve just…gotten more vivid, I guess. More real.”
“Hoon-ah…” Jay sighs like he's going to say something else, but he decides against it. He knows how crazy it sounds, can see it in the look in Jay's eyes whenever he finds Sunghoon like this, but he can't help it. “I guess it can't be helped. Is your knee at least—”
“A little,” Sunghoon mumbles before Jay can complete his question. “It still hurts when I stand on it for too long.”
“Are you at least using the compression sleeve?”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon replies. “But it doesn't do much. It's best not to worry about it, Jay-ah.”
Jay stares at him for a moment, before clicking his tongue, taking Sunghoon's right leg, which he had folded under himself, to pull it upon his own lap, eliciting a startled breath.
“Jay—”
“You worry me sometimes, Hoon,” Jay grumbles, as his fingers gently roll up his pant leg and begin to prod at his knee, rubbing small circles into the skin. “The medicine, the pain, these dreams…I know all of this is hard to talk about but you know you can at least talk to me, right?”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Jay asks. “Because that means asking for help too.”
“Does that mean you're going to be giving me the princess treatment from now on?” Sunghoon inquires with a sly smile. “Because if so, I think I'll be more inclined to bother you for things.”
“Don't be a brat,” Jay scowls, but Sunghoon can tell there's no real annoyance behind his words. “If it means you stop doing this recovery process by yourself, like you're the only one who's concerned about it, then I guess.”
Of course, he thinks. He's known Jay for long enough that he should have anticipated this.
He really must've been worried after all.
“Ah, Jjongsaeng,” Sunghoon coos teasingly behind the rim of his cup. “You're so cute when you care about me.”
“Shut up,” Jay says, but it quickly turns into a smile. “You’re annoying when you have me get up so early worrying about you.”
Sunghoon watches with a softened look in his eyes as Jay massages the skin, his cup, now empty, resting against his leg as he reaches out to ruffle Jay's hair, grinning when he pauses.
“Thank you, Jay-ah.”
Jay is quiet for a moment, before letting out a soft snort, his lips curling at the corners like they always do when he’s particularly happy.
“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes it off, shaking his head with a laugh. “Can't believe the things I do for you sometimes, Hoon-ah.”
“You're not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Sunghoon replies with a hum. “Who’s going to eat all the food you make and keep your life interesting?”
“Sunoo and Jungwon do that plenty,” Jay retorts, letting out a bark of laughter when Sunghoon pouts. “But I guess I like you enough to keep you around.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes at that, but he knows that Jay can sense that he appreciates it.
He glances out the window from the corner of his eye, watching the moon glow faintly.
“There's always a moon.”
“Huh?”
“In my dreams,” he adds. “Behind the creature, there's always a full moon.”
“Like a werewolf?”
“Maybe,” Sunghoon replies softly, fiddling with the string from his teabag as the empty cup rests against his leg. “That could explain why it looks so strange.”
“Dude,” Jay says. “I seriously think Sunoo’s made you watch Twilight a few too many times.”
“Don't say that,” Sunghoon pouts. “These dreams aren't like that, Jay-ah.”
“You said it was trying to woo you,” Jay snorts. “And if it's a werewolf, Sunoo's going to kill you for being team Jacob.”
Sunghoon scrunches his nose at that in a mix of disgust and offense at Jay's comment. He'd never, of course—
But sometimes, in these dreams, the creature, werewolf, whatever it seemed to be—would engulf him in the warmth of its body as the moon shone bright above them, and for a moment in time, he'd feel distant, like this version of him wasn't confined to the woes of his body.
For a moment, he'd be normal again.
Mine, it'd whisper. Mine, all mine.
And then, it’d be gone, leaving only the moon behind it to haunt him.
“The moon,” he mumbles. “Maybe it's a sign.”
There's something oddly prophetic about it.
Maybe, just maybe—
“...Hoon-ah?”
“Huh?”
“You should really head to bed,” Jay tells him. “Both of us should. We have our shifts at Blossom and classes tomorrow, today, whatever—”
“I think I'll be staying up a little longer,” Sunghoon interrupts. “Maybe to try to let the chamomile have time to…do its thing, you know?”
“Hoon-ah,” Jay says, eyebrows furrowed. “The amitriptyline—”
“They said it'd be weird for a while,” Sunghoon waves him off. “It'll kick in soon, I'm sure.”
Jay's eyes narrow, but eventually, he caves, letting out a sigh as he gently maneuvers Sunghoon's leg off of him.
“If you're still sitting here in half an hour, I'll kill you,” he threatens half-heartedly as he stands up with a groan. “And I mean it. I don't want to lose sleep worrying about you—”
“I'll be fine, Jjongsaeng,” Sunghoon smiles. “You worry too much.”
“You don't make it easy not to, Hoon,” Jay mutters. “But fine, fine. You're a grown man, and I'm acting like I'm your eomma. If you don't make it to your shift or classes tomorrow, I'm not the one suffering the consequences.”
“That's the spirit,” Sunghoon laughs, pleased with the look on Jay's face, his eye twitching in mild annoyance. “Good night…or good morning, Jay-ah. Sorry to wake you.”
“Whatever,” Jay mumbles. “I'll see you in the morning.”
With that, Jay leaves with one last reminder to Sunghoon to get to bed eventually, probably to satiate the nagging feeling in his chest that's been there ever since the accident. It didn't help that Jay witnessed it, after all.
Sunghoon allows himself to take a deep breath when he hears Jay's bedroom door click shut, turning his head to stare out the window again.
The moon.
He takes a moment before working to stand up, wincing when he puts too much weight on his right knee too soon.
He stumbles, clinging onto the cup as he limps a bit to the kitchen, throwing the tea bag and washing the cup just enough so he wouldn't be bothered by it until the morning.
Then, he finds himself making his way to the glass doors of the balcony, step by careful step, sliding the heavy door as he steps out and into the mild cold, his hands reaching for the railings to steady himself, taking some weight off of his bad knee.
He looks up at the moon, scrutinizing it with his gaze, focused enough that he can hear the sound of his heartbeat.
Thump, thump, thump.
Mine, his ears remember. Mine, all mine.
“Who are you?” He mumbles out, with no one but the moon to hear him. “What are you?”
And why do I keep dreaming about you?