fiendish heart [1]

18 。come back to me

„Hand me that cloth." Seokjin ordered the one by his side as he curled his fingers into a fist and began to place pressure on Kook's heavy wound. He took the washcloth from the hand assisting him, dipping it into a tub of water and brushing gentle strokes against his cold skin. „Bandage." He received the fabric in seconds, muttering a small thanks before continuing his ministrations.

„Seok -" Taehyung began but was interrupted.

„I will tell you everything soon. Right now, please let me do this." He shrivelled back against the cold mirror of the small monochrome interior, curious eyes studying the boy he was so infatuated by. Never did the thought occur to him that Kook wanted him back. Maybe he didn't, but he was here in his home. Surely that was enough to say Kook held some longing for him.

„No, Minjae was right ..." He said exasperatedly, Seokjin raising an eyebrow in question.

„Right about what, Taehyung?" He wasn't used to someone else hearing his voiced thoughts, reverting his gaze to the hand towel in his hand so he could fiddle with the soft yet rough texture. The room was hard to breathe in, it was suffocating him. Right about me. Thinking such words and verbalising them were two very different feats. Seokjin stared up at him for a moment as he shifted Kook, unconscious in his arms, so that he laid over his limbs like an armrest.

„I need to know, Seokjin." Taehyung began, a clear plead in his voice. „What was Kook going to do to me in the streets? Why did you stab him? Was he going to hurt-"

„He was protecting you." Seokjin cut in, eyes boring into the deep brown pair staring back at him, holding so many questions and eagerly awaiting answers. „You are his possession, that's his way of seeing it ... not his. Something provoked him to believe you were in danger, so he tried to mark you." he gave a forlorn glance in Taehyung's direction to see his frightful gaze. „Don't be afraid of him. There are things I will say that you won't like, I guarantee. But you need to listen before Kook loses himself entirely. He needs you."

„Nobody needs me." Taehyung said miserably, burying his face between his knees as he huffed. "I'm useless, I've never done any good for anyone."

"Not even Kook?" Seokjin asked curiously, combing his fingers through the boy's hair as he reached for the shampoo bottle and began to clean the mess of grime layering up from weeks of isolation. He didn't expect Taehyung to respond, but he knew the question made him think. When he looked up again, the writer was staring at Kook with that same curiosity in his eyes. "You give more than what you think to other people, Taehyung. Now maybe I'm not the person to show you that but it'll come, you'll see."

"You were going to explain things to me," Taehyung mumbled, diverting the conversation away from himself.

„Yes," he nodded calmly, washing the shampoo from the boy's hair as he began to explain, "Think back to the first impression you had of Kook" he gave the writer a moment to recollect a memory before continuing, „That was him protecting himself. Kook has an instinct against others, therefore he will put up guards. All his life he's been called insane and unlovable, eventually one starts to believe those things and they become our nature." Taehyung said nothing and Seokjin watched him carefully, wondering if he would back out or if he would run. Though he was very much afraid and unwilling, he stayed.

"I have been studying Kook for years now, hoping to find out more about him. Since the day we met I knew he wasn't a regular human but I just didn't know how. The more I studied him the more I discovered he had the likeness of two supernatural creatures." Oh. A fist held Taehyung's heart in its palm, fingers wrapped loosely around its form, ready to tighten any second. Was he ready to hear this? Was he ready to find out Kook's deepest secret from someone else? Loosening the tightness in his chest, he locked his eyes on the peaceful boy now wrapped up in a towel and bandages. He looked so harmless, innocent even.