The Aged | Gyuhao (Sequel to Youth)

- 8

| Chapter Eight — Playtime |

The music in the club rings through the air, thrumming through Minghao's ears and making his body roll even deeper on top of the body under him.

He's attempting to seduce the man below, trying to wiggle answers out of him— wherever the night ends up taking him.

"Tell me," Minghao pushes the hair behind the man's ear, trying to ignore the greasy tips, "Was he a regular?" He's asking about the guy he had tortured just the other day, the one he had Riki go after and the one who he nailed a note to.

They were in a private room, one of the places strippers usually took customers to ether to fuck or mess around of some sort. 

"Sort of," The guy groans, hands gripping Minghao's waist a little too hard, "But why talk about him, baby? You're here with me."

Minghao snickers, lips hovering over the man's, "So, you were friends with him?"

"I guess you could say so," The guy sits up, mouth inches away from Minghao's. He circles the tip of his tongue across Minghao's bottom lip, pining, begging for him to make a move, "He was always real secretive— always said he had people to check on back home, always walked away to take a call."

"Did he ever say where he was from?" Minghao hums, thumb running along the man's bottom lip. The seduction always worked.

The man tilts his head to the side, "Don't know. From the states, maybe? His english was good a fuck ton." He chuckles.

Minghao hums, "Chicago?"

The guys eyes widen, a smile creeping across his face in disbelief, "Yeah, actually." He laughs, "Damn babe, you know everything don't you?"

Minghao giggles, "Especially how to end a life," He had slipped out a knife, the blade sharp against his victim's throat, "Thanks for the information, doll. It was very useful." And he's slamming the weapon deep into the guy's neck, grinning almost sadistically as soon as the blood begins to flow.

He watches the man choke on his own blood, kicking a giggling Minghao off of him and ripping the knife from his throat.

He falls off the small, ruby couch, coughing whilst tossing the weapon in Minghao's direction.

"Ahh, nice try." Minghao hums, bending down to retrieve his knife, "This is my favorite knife, honey. Be nice to it, yeah?" He kicks the guy's back, watching his chest hit the floor with a rushed 'oof!', "You're so cute," The blood is so warm it makes Minghao blush as he stabs the man's back repeatedly, the sound of his spine shattering from the abuse like music to Minghao's ears.

Minghao sighs softly, pushing his hair out of the way, bloody fingertips leaving a crimson streak across his hairline.

"Holy fuck."

Silence.

Through Minghao's crimson matted hair, he finds the eyes of a familiar person he once knew, their own gaze equally as shocked— if not more.

"Minghao," Joshua's frozen.

Minghao thinks about a lot of things in the span of the next few moments.

He thinks about running— thinks about what would happen if he did. He thinks about talking things out with his old friend, maybe have a laugh or 2, he thinks about killing Joshua.

Murder seemed to be his first answer to everything nowadays.

"Don't—" Joshua keeps his trained eyes on him, hands held out cautiously, "—move."

Minghao wants to move.

He so desperately wants to move, but the sight of Joshua before him is making his brain go haywire, forcing him to stay glued in his exact spot.

"Jesus Christ, Hao." Joshua takes a step closer, eyes zoned out on the dead body just in front of Minghao, "You fucking killed him."

Minghao doesn't say anything, just stays silent, slowly sliding the blood covered knife behind his back as if it hadn't been the first thing Joshua laid his eyes on since walking in here.

And why?

Why was he here?

"Don't come any closer." Minghao holds out a hand, "I'm serious."

"Minghao, you need help."

Minghao shakes his head in dismay, "I already have a psychiatrist." Well, if Seokmin counted as one. He pretty much tells him everything as he would a professional.

"Fuck, I can't believe this." Joshua shakes his head, "And what the hell are you doing in Japan? I'm supposed to be the crazy one, not you."

"Times have changed." Minghao lets the knife dangle by his hip, not at all afraid of showing it off anymore. He loves the way Joshua stares at it, "I don't need you anymore so leave me the fuck alone. Did your stupid ass gang not get it the first time?"

"That was you?" Joshua scoffs. He had been told a dead body had been mailed to headquarters, but he never found out more about the sender.

Minghao just smiles, looking down to admire the art on the floor.

The guy was out for the count, blood everywhere and anywhere and yet, Minghao didn't give a single damn if anyone else walked in on this, or if the dead man laying below him had any loved ones he needed to get home to.

Love was for the weak.

"We want you home," Joshua pleads, "Mingyu wants you home, Hao."

Minghao feels his heart leap. He doesn't know if it's in a good way or a bad way, "What?" He says, voice on the verge of breaking, "You're lying. He— He's fucking dead."

"Dead?" Joshua's face twists, "Who the hell told you that?"

"He wouldn't wake up." Minghao swallows, "None of you shitheads ever visited me enough to let me know of his condition. Soonyoung was my only support beam," Minghao takes an internal, large, deep breath. He needs the oxygen to brace himself, "And now that I know he's okay— Go."

Joshua blinks, "What?"

"I'm glad he's okay. Now, leave."

Joshua walks closer, "Are you fucking serious?"

"Get—" Minghao holds out the knife, hating the way his hand trembles, the blood dripping off the sharp end of the weapon, "—away from me."

"Mingyu's alive." Joshua says again, eyes searching for some sort of answer as to why that sentence alone wasn't a wake up call. Minghao had to wake up from all this nonsense. This wasn't him, "Minghao, he's fucking alive and he wants you back."

"He wants me back?" Minghao chuckles, slipping into the ruby couch again, resting his feet on the dead man's body as if he were some sort of a footrest, "Then tell him to come fucking get me himself. I don't need his damn minions."

"What?" It's all Joshua can utter. And yeah, what? This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

"You heard me." Minghao says, bringing the knife up to his face.

He smiles at it, tip of his tongue poking out to lick up the access blood.

Joshua's eyes widen, jaw falling ajar.

He's killed a million people himself, all different ways, but he's never been as crazy as to taste his victims' own blood.

That was a whole new level of disturbing.

"Give him a hug for me." Minghao grins.

Joshua finally stumbles out of the room after staring at Minghao for a while due to the shock of the situation, scrambling to pull out his phone and call Mingyu with every inch of his life.

"Hell no." Is the first thing Joshua says into the phone, speed walking away from the club with a heavy breath once he makes it outside, "You gotta get the hell down here, man. I'll keep an eye on him, but Jesus— your boy is fucking gone, I don't know who the hell I just met, Kim Mingyu."

A pause.

"I'm on my way."