Charles doesn't do this. ---------------------------------- Carlos doesn't know why he does it. ----------------------------------- Crossposted on Ao3 under the username: Thecoffewitch

maybe friday the 13th isn't so unlucky after all. ✓ 170119

They say one chance is all you need when you're in the arms of the right person.

Jeon Wonwoo was the son of a successful FBI agent, just like his best friend Kwon Soonyoung. One day Soonyoung fell in love with Jihoon, a hunter. Everything would change for Wonwoo when Soonyoung forced him to sleep with a werewolf. ............... The wind was warm. Your wing flaps were sweet. Your sunlit smile bright. When I looked at you, I believed that everything would be beautiful, I was foolishly convinced that the cage was made of wood. You gave me wings so I could fly. Now you tear them apart with your own hands.

"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." ____________________________________ "How old am I, again?" Mingyu asked, his voice deeper, a maturity in his tone, handing the phone back to his friend and doctor. "Twenty-two," Seungcheol answered with a smile, telling him to just place it on the bed because he already had a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other. OR Mingyu loses all memory of the last five years of his life.

The first time Mingyu saw him was when he was walking home from the last day of school, a day before his winter break, to be precise. It was as if he was looking in the mirror. Stone-cold eyes that looked like he was dead on the inside, a moving shell with no soul attached, an invisible wall around him that closed himself away from other people. Mingyu knows those eyes for they were akin to his. Perhaps that is why the image of the man never left his mind, even after several seasons have passed. Somewhere, out there, there is a person who is as broken as he is, the thought makes him less lonely. Yet, the day when the very man comes to look for him again, he appears with a smile, bringing the first hint of spring's warmth with him. One of his hands is stretched, waiting for Mingyu to reach it and engulf it in a foreign sense of tenderness. Mingyu almost failed to recognize him, because the man no longer reminded him of the dreary, cold winter night. He is but a radiant, lukewarm spring. With a voice so gentle, almost wary, he speaks; "Hello, Mingyu. Would you like to come home with me?"