Blood, Sweat And Tears

Part Twenty - Two

          Sicheng and Yuta lay across each other silently on the Japanese male's massive bed. Sicheng's feet touched the back of the bed and Yuta's the front. But their heads were opposite and touching each other.
        Their heads were facing each other, Yuta stroking Sicheng's jaw with the barest of touches. Their eyes stayed on each other, neither attempting to break the silence around them.
         " Why did you agree to take us in?" Sicheng whispered, his voice guttural as he leaned into Yuta's touch. His eyes were half closed, and his silken raven black hair was splayed out around his face.
          Sunlight spilled in, illuminating them both. Yuta's eyes were golden half moons. In fact, all of him seemed to be bathed in gold. His fingers trailed down to Sicheng's cherry red lips, brushing over it lightly. A shiver traveled down the Chinese man's spine.
          " Simple. I had to, even if it's cliché, " Yuta whispered as he rose up on his elbows, his body shadowing over Sicheng's. His hands traveled down the younger's neck, as his hands gripped Yuta's shoulder blades.
        "Is it that or Yiren ordering you to? Which is it?" Sicheng muttered as his hands trailed down Yuta's back.
           "Do you want to know?" Yuta's hands splayed out across the wings of Sicheng's collarbone. His gold cloured eyes met his.
             A nod.
            "Neither."
            "Then why?" Sicheng mummered as Yuta gracefully moved his body so that it covered his. A strand of gold painted dark hair curled down to graze the Chinese male's exposed collarbone.
              " Because I love you. I have always and will forever love you," Yuta whispered before pressing his lips down to Sicheng's harshly.
               The way their lips met was harsh but their kiss wasn't. Sicheng closed his eyes, letting himself relish in the taste and feel of Yuta's lips on his own. He tasted like cherries and roses put together.
              Was this just fantasy, or was it the real life?
               If it was the real life then he would have Yiren, his other sister, with him. They would be laughing the night away at stupid jokes and all the latest memes the meme industry had to offer. And. . .maybe he'd be with Yuta.
             The last fantasy was true but the first wasn't. It broke him, but . . .
               Sicheng decided to focus on his current fantasy for now.
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              Seokjin and Yoongi sat down in the latter's room, applying bandages to each other.
              Seokjin sat behind the shorter and younger male, gently dabbing at the cut on his ear and delicately bandaging it with thin strips of sterile linen lined with a yellowish medicine. He whispered words of comfort into Yoongi's other ear as he did so.
               Motherly was the word that described Kim Seokjin the best. He had the qualities of a mother that he regularly put to use. It was something that made him so beloved in the Busan Cartel, other than how strikingly handsome he was. Heck, some even called him eomma.
              Yoongi, on the other hand, was seen as that savage bitch who didn't give a fuck about anything but Seokjin knew better. Despite his cold,intimidating looking face and icy, savage demeanor, Yoongi was actually a very soft boy. That impentrable, icy persona he put up was a shield he used to protect himself.
              "Jin - hyung?" Yoongi said in a small voice as he curled up into a ball, careful not to move his head so that Seokjin could bandage his ear properly.
              " Yes,child?" Even though their age difference was only a mere year, Seokjin still insisted on calling Yoongi his child. Yoongi would've protested and roasted the person to pieces had it been anyone else, but when he wanted to be Seokjin could be a very sassy, bitchy diva. And you don't refuse the diva.
                "Do you think there'll be any mourning if Park Jimin just suddenly turned up dead tomorrow?" Yoongi asked with a wicked grin on his lips.
             Seokjin sighed and put down the strips of yellowed linen he was holding down. "Yoon,child, we've spoken about this before. No killing of Park Jimin."
          "There's no harm in wishing, is there, Jin - hyung? " Yoongi fired back as he imagined the scene in his head. It was rather disturbing that he could actually imagine it.
             " As long as you don't act on your wishes, it's fine. But still . . ."
             "But if I did, will you support me?"
              Seokjin reached up again to add another strip of yellow linen. "I don't know, Yoongi. I don't know. "