Luxuria | BTS

Part XII

"Ipse est adiuvantes eos"

-He is helping them-

~~

The weight of time dragged along heavily while you lay on your bed, eyes fixing the screen of your laptop. The rest of the house was silent except for the occasional creak of your bedsprings as you shifted position, and evening sounds drifting through an open window.

You were deep into researching, having scoured the internet for hours with little results. You'd gone through pages upon pages of information about supernatural beings and demons, but none of them matched with the boys.

None of them matched with you.

Sighing, you opened another article when you heard your phone ring from downstairs. You wondered who it could be, since you had no contact with anyone here, but got up nevertheless.

Still, the number displayed on the screen was horribly familiar. You grimaced, and picked up, preparing for the cold rush of old reality.

"Good evening, Miss Kim", the voice of Mrs Park rang in your ears; "I am calling to ask how you are getting along".

"Very well, thank you, Mrs Park", you replied coolly, staring at the ground, waiting for her next sentence.

She cleared her throat audibly over the phone. "I am to inform you that the papers with your parents Will shall arrive next Monday. You will have access to all they left you, and your heritages are until then kept safe".

"Good", your heart cramped a bit remembering your parents. You didn't think of them often, and you had never mourned for them properly, but deep down, there was still a dull blade digging at your heart.

Shortly, you wondered if there would be anything that they'd left you that could possibly aid in finding out what you were.

Mrs Park paused shortly, like she was contemplating something, before hurriedly bidding you a good bye. You murmured it back, hanging up, and sitting down on a chair, phone placed on the table before you.

Propping your head in your hands, you bit your lip thoughtfully. With Mrs Park's call came old memories, old memories of your time at the orphanage. Memories that were painstakingly clear, even with the clouded blur of time upon them.

A slight sting of remembrance hit you as you thought about the first time realising that you were different.

You must have been seven, at most. In your head, you were standing in your classroom, watching all the other kids evade your eyes and push away from you. You remembered how the teacher had barely glanced at you before backing away and leaving you alone.

It had been a strange feeling as this small, seven year old child. You were barely learning to read and write, but you could already do so much more than anyone in your school. You had so much more power than you or others realised, and it was only the beginning.

You were maybe ten when you started using it to your advantage. Always stayed in the background, never was the one to be obviously harmful, but snuck around in the shadows and watched how you could twist emotions and influence behaviour.

 You'd never understood why nobody wanted to come close to you until then. Those years of discovery of what you could do, those almost wondering moments of fey, those naive assumptions that led to more backlash than intended made it clear to you.

Made it clear that you, indeed, were completely different from everyone around you.

And with the time, your childlike heart grew cold. The black in it spread and left you greedy for more of the exhilarating feeling of power, unleashed itself in the time of finding yourself.