The Demon Next Door

37

A week passed by like wind.

Jongin spent most of it in the hospital, Kyungsoo in his arms. They stayed under the covers. Jongin slept for hours on end, actions as simple as breathing making him exhausted.

Kyungsoo watched him sleep. His hand would mold into the curve of Jongin's hot cheek, feeling it warm under his palm. Jongin would smile in his sleep at Kyungsoo's familiar touch.

When he'd wake up, kisses would ensue. Kyungsoo could never get enough of Jongin ravishing him. His grip on the smaller male would tighten, never willing to let go, while his lips attacked the skin of Kyungsoo's face, not leaving an inch untouched.

The staff brought Jongin food of a high nutritional quality, knowing his fraility was becoming stronger as the days went by. He grew a bit bigger with how much they were feeding him. His hospital gown didn't wear him anymore; he wore the gown.

It was peaceful and nice. Jongin had developed a geniune love for the hospital. He enjoyed the care and the freedom. He loved that he could cling to the one he loved without shackles around his wrists.

But the day came when the doctor said he was well enough and could go back. It was the afternoon right before the day of the trial. As if it couldn't get any more disgusting, a thunder storm rumbled outside mockingly like a foreshadow, shaking Kyungsoo to the core.

They asked him to leave as Jongin changed back into his uniform, the clothes not as big as they had grown to be before. Kyungsoo leaned on the wall beside the guard outside of the door, waiting and listening to the shuffling of cloth on Jongin's body.

As soon as Jongin was ready, they buckled his wrists up once more and pushed him down the hallway like the dog he was. Kyungsoo followed suite, all the way to the police car, until they slammed the vehicle's door in his face and told him to get lost.

It stung like a bitch. Kyungsoo watched the car drive down the road, leaving dust in its wake. He waved slowly, feeling battered and bruised all over again. He could barely see Jongin turning in the back seat to wave back, or attempt to with his wrists bound together. That image shattered Kyungsoo into bits.

Jongin was his. They had no right to take him.

As morally correct as these thoughts were, Kyungsoo returned home empty-handed anyway, missing what he wanted most.

He couldn't sleep at all that night. With the trial tomorrow and Jongin's life hanging in the balance, he felt himself going insane. He clawed at his arms, feeling his nails grow to talons, cutting shallow lines of emotional pain down his forearms.

As a last resort, he got out of bed somewhere during the dead of the early morning and went down to the kitchen. Enough was enough. He wanted to fall asleep in a drunken stupor.

He rummaged through the cabinet, pushing aside wine glasses in search of what went into them. In the very back, he found his father's stash of Merlot. He removed the bottle with caution, careful not to break any of the glasses.

Kyungsoo filled one up, watching the alcohol fill up to the brim. It swirled as he lifted the glass up. He remembered drinking with Jongin for a moment. It had seemed like such good times then.

He toasted to success tomorrow, clinking glasses with imaginary friends that had come out of the six-year-old-Kyunggie's mind's drawers to pay him a visit. They cheered all around him. Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!

He was about to do just that when the lights came on. His lips, parted beautifully around rim, pulled away from the wineglass. He looked back over his shoulder, slumping slightly in his chair when he saw Mr. Do in the doorway.