Intoxiqué

3

He finds a home in a warm bed and gentle eyes.

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Jongin's in withdrawal. Uncontrollable hunger rages through his entire body. He needs to control. He needs to discipline.

He needs to hurt.

He is addicted. His only form of treatment is gone, and now he's in relapse. Jongin stays in bed for hours on end wrestling with a demon that has complete power over him. It's pinning him down and he can't break free.

It's Kyungsoo's fault. It's all Kyungsoo's fault. Who told him to leave? Jongin doesn't recall giving him permission to go. Kyungsoo has been his since he walked in the door, and now pet has run away from master. Jongin is displeased.

He sits up in the middle of this tyrannical debacle, ripping his bed's sheets apart with a frustrated roar. He will get Kyungsoo back. He will quench his desires. He will teach his little bitch a lesson, and he doesn't care what the costs are.

Jongin will pay all in return for making Kyungsoo pay.

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Jongin searches during the nights. Sometimes the process pours into the mornings. He comes back home cold and empty-handed.

Kyungsoo has hidden himself nicely. Well played. Jongin almost applauds.

He grinds his teeth together at the thought that Kyungsoo is in another's bed, sipping from another's cup of pleasure and tasting from another's plate of delight. Goose bumps rage up his body; his being trembles with an envy yet to be discovered by other men.

He is addicted. Hooked. No matter how many times he wants to slip Kyungsoo out of his mind, the thought of forgetting him makes the bile rise in his throat. If he could inject whatever Kyungsoo had infatuated him with, Jongin would have syringes rolling around his house.

Even if he finds Kyungsoo, Jongin doesn't know what to tell him. "Come back to me." Why would he? Even Jongin knows his abuse was a bit too excessive for standard (or maybe not; he doesn't think it was that bad.) "I love you." Completely untrue, and even to say it as a lie would taste like metal on Jongin's tongue.

He lays back on his bed once he returns home. It still smells like Kyungsoo's skin. Tears. Blood. When was the last time Jongin did the laundry? Not since Sehun left, he thinks. Kyungsoo has been doing it for him. He'll have to get to making Kyungsoo do it again.

He rolls onto his side, away from the right space previously occupied by Kyungsoo. Jongin is afraid the other's outline will appear out of nowhere. He doesn't want to see phantoms. He wants to see the real thing. Punish the real thing.

Jongin fists his pillowcase. He should sleep. After all, he has work in the morning.

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His eyes are ebony like coal, yet, he would not turn up in naughty childrens' stockings.

His hair is chocolate like the rest of him: the color belonging to the locks; the taste belonging to his personality.

He is Kyungsoo's new home.

His arms wrap around Kyungsoo's waist in a mini-bar. The smell of mint flows from his hot breath to Kyungsoo's nose. His cologne is mildly scented. Kyungsoo can tell right away that he prefers not to be noticed, even without getting to know him.

Kyungsoo's shaking, sobbing body is pulled off of the bar stool he has glued himself to, and the drink he committed himself to downing a few moments prior. Kyungsoo chokes back his sobs in order to avoid losing a bed to sleep in tonight.