pappippoppeta
Minghao's love for art and Mingyu's dark obsession for him.
"You know you shouldn't trust me."
Minghao blinked once.
"What?"
"You heard me."
His voice remained calm, almost gentle which somehow made the words heavier.
Minghao frowned lightly. "That's a strange thing to say to someone standing in your kitchen at two in the morning."
A small huff of amusement escaped Mingyu though his expression never fully softened.
"No," he said quietly, "what's strange is that you're here at all."
The air shifted.
Minghao could feel it immediately.
That invisible line tightening between them again.
Restriction.
Want.
Something dangerous sitting carefully beneath every sentence.
"You're the only one I could think of that would help me " Minghao admitted before thinking better of it.
The moment the words left his mouth, Mingyu's expression changed.
Not visibly.
Subtly.
And whatever flickered across Mingyu's face then-it wasn't normal.
"You shouldn't have thought of me," Mingyu said softly.
His hand moved then, slowly resting against the counter beside Minghao trapping him there without truly touching him.
Close.
Too close.
"Mingyu-"
"I would kill any man without having to bat an eyelid, " he interrupted his voice slightly raised, blurting words out without much thought"if it meant keeping you, so tell me - why should you trust someone like me?"
Silence.
The words settled heavily between them.
Not dramatic.
Not exaggerated.
Terrifyingly sincere.
Minghao stared at him for a long moment before letting out a quiet breath.
"You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why?"
"Because normal people don't talk that way."
Something unreadable passed through Mingyu's eyes.
"When have I ever said I was normal?"
That was it... the red light- the one that should have set off all of Minghao's sense to stay away, yet all he could say in reply was: "Mingyu..."
#book2