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Son Siwoo is an excellent judge of character. Networking runs in his blood about as easily as the alcohol does, but he’s not a partier, exactly—he’s an opportunist. A social butterfly, perhaps.
Yes, he’s a business major.
When he remembers, he truly does care about his friends. He’s not actually trying to sabotage Jihoon’s love life. He’s just absolutely, entirely convinced, that Kim Kiin isn’t at all human.
It all went downhill in his fourth year, when one too many neglected science credits caught up to him, and Siwoo was forced into a lab already overflowing with sweaty little nerds—
“It’ll be fun,” Jihoon had told him, genuine sincerity in his voice. “Kiin hyung’s doing it too. We get to filet fish!”
BIOL 204 - Vertebrate Structure and Function. Siwoo’s own personal hell, maybe, though he really should have known not to trust Jihoon from the start.
Quality: 2.0 Difficulty: 5.0
You can’t even cheat in this class because no one knows the answers. Exams aren’t worth much though, so your grades will be fine. It’s just Professor Lee conducting monthly humiliation rituals.
The worst part is, Siwoo was genuinely excited to meet this mystery boyfriend of Jihoon’s. He’d heard enough to melt his brain straight out of his ears, but anyone Jihoon adored that openly just had to be a sweetheart, right?
Right.
Kim Kiin is as demonic and suspicious as their cartoonishly evil supervillain of a professor.
Quality: 3.0 Difficulty: 5.0
Half the class failed the midterm and Prof. Lee legit started individually projecting our results??? Like onto EVERY SCREEN IN THE ROOM, and he forgot to censor half our names. Curve was good though. And the TA was hot.
“He cut himself in class today,” Siwoo hisses, staring intently at Jihoon, who looks like he’s about one more sip of his energy drink away from levitating off the floor. “I saw blood. And then… nothing. The cut healed itself in like, two seconds.”
Jihoon takes another large gulp from the can, and Siwoo swears he can see the caffeine shiver down his body, evident in the way his fingers give a rapid spasm at his side, a near imperceptible flutter of movement, before going impossibly still. Siwoo’s crippling ADHD cringes at the unnatural sight. For a second, he considers that maybe Jihoon’s not a mere mortal either.
“Siwoo hyung. I think you’re seeing things.”
Siwoo gawks at him, indignant. “I am not. He’s not human, Jihoonie.”
“Just because you failed the quiz,” Jihoon starts, tone a long-suffering sigh, like he’s somehow the one inconvenienced by this fact—
“Barely! How’d you even know, huh?”
“Kiin hyung told me,” Jihoon says gleefully, and then the little monster himself pops right out from the open door, fingers brushing against Jihoon’s hand as he steals a sip from his drink.
Siwoo glares at Kiin. “I didn’t tell you my grade. You’re in my head, I knew it—”
49.67. Forty-nine point six seven.
“Oh my god,” Siwoo had practically shrieked, words spluttered out against his palm as he stared at the exam paper, aghast, because what kind of sick freak of a professor fails someone by less than half a point? On a knowledge check quiz?
“Hah, six seven…”
“I sit behind you,” Kiin points out, monotonous and bland as he stares unblinking at Siwoo, a bit like those fish corpses they were just slicing open in lab this afternoon, except Siwoo feels like the one on the table suddenly—
Quality: 1.0 Difficulty: 4.0
Guy beside me in the final was literally sobbing and this prof was just cackling at the front of the lecture hall. Idk who was more distracting. Maybe the cute TA?
Siwoo gives up trying to reason with Jihoon about three weeks in, right around the same time he remembers that lecture attendance isn’t even required to pass, but he still reluctantly drifts in the general orbit of the exhaustingly happy couple during their mandatory lab sections.
Unfortunately, Kiin is carrying their group grade. Unfortunately, Jihoon is madly in love.
He’s disgustingly smitten, catlike eyes gone all starry and heart-shaped when he looks in Kiin’s direction, blind to every glaring red flag that Siwoo dutifully records.
Sharp teeth? Check.
“Not everyone can afford braces, Siwoo hyung,” Jihoon firmly scolds him, which doesn’t even make sense, but Kiin flashes him a gummy, teethy smile in response, and Siwoo feels lightheaded enough to drop the subject.
Questionable addiction to meat? Also check.
“We’re heading off-campus for lunch,” Jihoon says, and Siwoo glares at Kiin from around his dusty pink Hydro Flask, at the way his tongue pokes out from his mouth as his eyes wobble around the room. When Kiin blinks, it’s somewhat uneven, a mistimed twitch of his eyelids that makes Siwoo glance away on instinct, but then his gaze just lands on Jihoon again, on the disgustingly fond smile playing over his lips, and Siwoo can’t decide what exactly is making him more nauseated.
“Let me guess. Meat.”
“Jihoonie’s allergic to vegetables,” Kiin says, poisonously sweet, and Siwoo can’t find a proper rebuttal before they turn to leave together, Jihoon trotting happily after his satanic little boyfriend, voice dreamy—Kiin hyung, Kiin hyunggg~ You know me so well, Kiinie hyung.
Superhuman levels of functioning? Check, and Siwoo’s not jealous, no matter how much Jihoon nags at him.
“He’s marine bio, hyung. Just because he knows how to manage his time—”
“No way,” Siwoo insists, stubbornly shaking his head, and stopping when he sees Kiin’s tiny figure at the top of the library stairs, fingers curled around his too-large backpack, evil grin plastered on his face—not that Siwoo’s close enough to see any expression on his face. He just feels the evil. It’s starting to give him a migraine.
Jihoon sighs, peering at him with something like concern, frustratingly earnest. “Listen, I know you’re out late on Thursdays, but we were in bed.”
“You were in bed,” Siwoo retorts. “Kiin was… uh. Was not.”
Jihoon presses his lips together, blinking wide and slow, and Siwoo can practically see the gears turning in his head, which is why he can also see exactly when they grind to a complete halt, and Jihoon beams ridiculously wide as Kiin steps beside him.
“Kiin hyung!”
“Where were you last night?” Siwoo waggles his fingers as threateningly as possible near Kiin’s nose, only to tug them back with a panicked squeak when Kiin opens his mouth to respond and he catches a glimpse of the razor-sharp edges of his teeth.
“With Jihoonie,” Kiin hums, and Jihoon’s eyes curl into happy crescents as he throws his arms around Kiin, cheek pressed to his hair. Kiin smiles at Siwoo. Maliciously.
“You don’t look very well-rested to me,” Siwoo hisses, because he’s onto this guy. He knows something sinister is going on here. He may have ingested dangerous quantities of soju last night and ended up wandering way too close to the nearby forest at unholy hours, but he’s also absolutely positive that Kim Kiin was in that forest too. Never mind that his memory is fuzzy enough that he can’t even remember getting back to his dorm.
“Kiin hyung had an exam this morning,” Jihoon mumbles, face still pressed to Kiin’s head as he pouts at Siwoo, cheeks puffing out somewhat ridiculously. “Don’t be mean.”
“Yes, Siwoo hyung,” Kiin says flatly, lips still twisted up in a mockery of a smile as he raises a hand to Jihoon’s wrist, thumb stroking over pale skin. “Don’t be mean.”
Siwoo resists the urge to start audibly gagging in front of them. The PDA is more villainous than whatever creepy reasons Kiin would have to be wandering around the sketchy forest at three in the morning.
Jihoon’s a lost cause. Siwoo might be too, if he can’t pass this course, so he decides to deal with finals first, the abnormal and certifiably inhuman boyfriend of his clueless friend second, and resolutely ignores the salty tang of blood that seems to linger in the air these days—a bitter scent that only he seems to notice, every time he’s forced to third wheel while studying.
Quality: 1.0 Difficulty: 5.0
Wish they had an option to give zeros on this site. Professor Lee is a literal fucking monster, and he’s making monsters out of his students too. You’re laughing. He’s singlehandedly starting the zombie apocalypse in this class and you’re laughing.
—
Siwoo has a flair for the dramatic, and even after two years abroad, Park Jaehyuk is no stranger to it. Maybe that’s why he barely even reacts when Siwoo starts aggressively blowing up his phone at the start of his final semester in America, messaging him at increasingly bizarre hours about some kind of outlandish conspiracy theory—
[siwoo]
hey
yk how
Curiosity kills the cat.
[jaehyuk]
What’d jihoonie do this time
[siwoo]
HES DATING A SERIAL KILLER
[jaehyuk]
Ok dude
The thing is, Jaehyuk’s a pretty reasonable guy. Jihoon’s love life isn’t something he necessarily wants to get himself involved in, and unfortunately for Siwoo, Jaehyuk is ever so slightly more inclined to trust the judgement of the friend currently in a successful relationship. Forget serial killers. Siwoo’s a serial dater.
And, honestly—Jihoonie’s a psych major. Psych majors would know how to read people, wouldn’t they?
[jaehyuk]
So who’s the unlucky guy
[siwoo]
ME
[jaehyuk]
Don’t be jealous…
Ik Jihoonie’s annoying but we just have to accept that it works for him
[siwoo]
im not jealous tf
jihoon’s gonna end up on the news
and so is kim kiin
Jaehyuk squints at his phone. He rubs his eyes, adjusts his glasses carefully with a hand and ignores the immediate smudge his fingers leave on the edge of one of the lenses, and peers at the messages so closely that his breath starts to fog up the screen.
[jaehyuk]
Bruh
I went to middle school with Kim Kiin
[siwoo]
was he serial killing back then too
[jaehyuk]
He was like fourteen
But maybe lol
Jaehyuk tries not to take Siwoo too seriously after that, just smiles and nods his way through the semester of consistently mournful messages prophesizing Jeong Jihoon’s untimely demise, and readies himself to return to Korea after two years spent on the other side of the globe.
Kiin was somewhat sweet, from what little Jaehyuk remembers of him. Quiet, sure—too quiet for Siwoo’s tastes, that’s for certain. Evil, though?
Jaehyuk’s curious to see for himself, but he just can’t believe that this is anything more than Siwoo’s usual hasty judgement.
[jaehyuk]
Miss me?
[siwoo]
no
Jaehyuk was wrong about Kim Kiin.
He was painfully, terrifyingly incorrect, and his casual dismissal of Siwoo’s fears feels like it’s coming back to bite him—if Kiin’s teeth don’t clamp down first, that is, phantom fangs feeling like they’re hovered directly at his jugular.
[jaehyuk]
HE WAS SO CUTE IN MIDDLE SCHOOL IDK
[siwoo]
WHO GAF
Jaehyuk wishes they could even explain it. They try to, him and Siwoo.
For a time.
They sit at the library while Jaehyuk falls asleep over CPEN problem sets and Siwoo doodles idly in the margins of some unimportant news article printed out by one of his commerce professors. They whisper frantically in the silent sections until the kid typing just as frantically on one of the communal PCs starts to toss them dirty looks. Ultimately, they resign themselves to a grim fate as helpless bystanders to Jihoon’s inevitable doom.
[jaehyuk]
We care about you
[jihoon]
haha ok hyung ^~^
Kim Kiin is just not normal. He’s probably not even human, but Siwoo’s stubborn declarations of failed vibe checks aren’t exactly concrete proof of the supernatural, and these days, Jihoon seems to be able to smell Jaehyuk’s fear just as well as Kiin can.
[jaehyuk]
Why’s he even in your neuro class
1) Marine bio doesn’t need psych credits
2) He’s already in a full course load
It’s sus
[jihoon]
heheh
he wanted to spend time with meee (ó﹏ò｡)
[siwoo]
ok but
NEUROANATOMY
why else would a marine bio major take neuroanatomy if not bc he wants to EAT BRAINS
[jaehyuk]
Ok dude.
Jaehyuk officially gives up barely a month into the semester, after a string of back-to-back midterms just about sends him to the shadow realm, and he figures that Jihoon’s probably equally as likely to die to his pocket-sized demonspawn boyfriend as Jaehyuk is to the exams written by his heartless professors.
Quality: 1.0 Difficulty: 5.0
Death would be preferable. Bio department needs to take professor lee back ASAP
—
Kiin has nothing against Jihoon’s friends. He doesn’t like to look at them for too long, it’s true, feels somewhat restless when he scans over their faces and is forced to acknowledge their odd familiarity, but he doesn’t hate them.
If they get too loud, he’ll have to find a way to quiet them down, but it won’t be out of any malice.
His hands squeeze almost unconsciously at Jihoon’s shoulders, and the covers shift underneath him as Jihoon stirs.
“Kiin hyung,” Jihoon says, voice still thick with sleep, eyes blinking open in the darkness of his room. “Kiinie hyung, do you need something?”
Kiin studies him. A frustratingly common pastime of the gentler spirits, the ones that slipped into the lake of their own volition with no lingering desire to ever breach the surface again. They like Jihoon. They think he’s sweet.
Disgustingly, revoltingly—do you need something? Kiin hyung?—he is.
Kiin doesn’t need anything. He considers Jihoon’s eyes, blown black as he gazes blindly in the direction of Kiin’s face, still so starry and trusting in the shadows. He moves his hands from Jihoon’s shoulders up to his chin, lets them linger for a beat too long on the fragile skin of Jihoon’s throat, and feels his heartbeat pulse against his fingers.
“Do you want something?” Jihoon clarifies. He blinks at Kiin again, eyes still unadjusted to the dark. His jaw shifts under Kiin’s hand as he yawns, chest rising and falling with every breath.
Kiin presses his knees tighter into Jihoon’s side and contemplates cracking through his ribs, trailing his teeth against the visceral pleura of his lungs, and taking a breath. He wonders if it’d feel any different.
Kiin’s supposed to breathe. He doesn’t need to, doesn’t particularly like the stale air that clings to his skin and slides thick down his throat, but Jihoon’s human friends seem to grow uncomfortable without his exaggerated inhalations to maintain a mortal pretense.
Jihoon opens his mouth again, that idiot. So pretty and unguarded, cheek turned to press against Kiin’s palm, all smooth, exposed skin—
Kiin kisses him.
Kiin kisses him and breathes, easily swallows down the soft noise that spills from his mouth, and grazes his teeth over Jihoon’s lip when he pulls back. Jihoon chases after him for a moment, chin tilted to expose the pale curve of his throat as he sucks in a shivering breath, and then his head drops fully back to the pillow, eyes rounding out as he pouts up at Kiin.
Kiin glides a thumb under his eye to smooth out the wrinkles in his skin, drags his fingers down to tap experimentally at his lip, and removes them with a small frown when Jihoon’s tongue darts out to press against him.
“Is that what you wanted, Kiin hyung?” Jihoon asks, small smile playing on his lips, skin cracked and raw at the corners.
Kiin pulls himself fully back upright. “No.”
“Ah? Then, what?”
Kiin rests his hands back on Jihoon’s chest. His heartbeat is a lazy rhythm, casual and unconcerned, uncaring of any threat when Kiin angles his nails into the skin.
Jihoon is sentimental. Kiin knows that well, is painfully conscious of what Jihoon likes to hear, intimately understands that this is the right thing to say—I want your heart.
It’s not even a lie.
“Jihoon-ah, I’d like your heart.”
It comes out easier than he expects.
“Kiinie hyung, is that true?”
Kiin’s grip tightens, lips pressing flat as he narrows his eyes at Jihoon. That’s not a very well-scripted response.
“Why stop there?” Jihoon continues, and his hand slides comfortable and warm over Kiin’s, eyes drifting back shut as he exhales a soft breath. “You can have everything. Kiin hyung.”
Kiin glares at him, at the way his smile twitches that much wider when Kiin’s nails press hard into his skin, only to let go again.
“Kiin hyung, don’t you want me?”
Kiin’s going to kill Jeong Jihoon one day. He’s going to lay his teeth along Jihoon’s collarbone, drag them up the exposed line of his throat. He’s going to bite, let venom drip sluggish through familiar veins, but on that day, he won’t let go.
It’s better that way.
Everything goes to waste in the water, sanguine streams gone viridescent in the deep, washed away with the faint salinity. Kiin wouldn’t do that to Jihoon, not when they could stay on the surface, where Jihoon’s voice carries so clear through the air.
His teeth ache at the thought. At the idea, carefully constructed from sunken fossils, a skeleton impression burned against the back of his eyelids.
Kiin hyung, Jihoon would say, voice almost a whine, eyes like leaded glass. He’d let him do it—he’d let him do anything. He’d like it. Kiin hyung, more.
One day, not this day, but as Kiin stares down at Jihoon under him, sprawled out all lazy and feline across the sheets, he can’t help but want another taste. Unlike Jihoon, however, Kiin has some semblance of self control, and just enough restraint to hold himself back. Feeding too often isn’t exactly healthy for either of them, no matter how prettily Jihoon asks him to.
No matter that he doesn’t necessarily need Jihoon to be healthy to have a satisfactory meal—Kiin tells himself it’ll be all the sweeter in the end.
And—he can feel Jihoon’s ribs under his skin.
Kiin hyung, don’t you want me?
“You’re still too skinny,” Kiin says flatly, runs his fingers down Jihoon’s side along his ribs, and feels something like satisfaction twist in his stomach when Jihoon arches up into the touch, leans into Kiin’s hand like a cat. “You should eat more.”
“Mmm. Okay.”
“I’m being serious,” Kiin presses, alien irritation bubbling up in his chest, oxygen escaping from waterlogged lungs to ripple at the surface of an inland sea. It’s too obvious in his tone, so he clears his throat and lets his shoulders relax again. “Never mind.”
“Let’s get lunch together tomorrow, Kiin hyung?”
Kiin rolls off Jihoon’s chest, letting himself flop to the bed, head landing on the pillow next to Jihoon. He laces his fingers over his heart, and feels the rhythmic pulse of a wind-borne tide thrumming steadily under the surface. His lips drift apart, tongue pressing at the jagged edges of his teeth.
“Sure. Meat.”
“Burgers,” Jihoon suggests, like it’s something new. Like they haven’t eaten burgers for four out of the last seven days. Like it’s thrilling, even exciting, like Jihoon isn’t going to clog his arteries and die before he’s thirty, leaving Kiin out to starve—
Odd, something murmurs in his head, quiet enough that Kiin can ignore it, barely a disturbance of still waters. Thirty, hm?
Kiin brushes it off, as he often does. He pays no attention to the dreamy rambling whispers in the back of his mind, fixes his thoughts on the promise of meat instead—he thinks about burgers. Again. For the fourth time in seven days. Healthy, Jihoon likes to call them. Kiin wonders if they’re still healthy for the third day in a row.
His mouth waters anyways. “Barbecue this weekend.”
“My favorite little carnivore,” Jihoon says, affectionate and endeared, and all the traitorous little killers wading through Kiin’s bloodstream decide they’ll be perfectly content with barbecue for yet another weekend. For every weekend, maybe.
“You’re cooking. And paying.”
“Aren’t I always?” Jihoon muses, and Kiin closes his eyes.
“Yes,” he says, and lets Jihoon press up close to his side, heartbeat pulsing under his skin until Kiin’s own starts to sync to a mortal rhythm. He lets Jihoon’s steady breathing linger warm against his neck, and thinks nothing more of the days beyond tomorrow. “Yes, Jihoonie. Always.”