can you hear?
we have become one

I awoke to silence.

Everything looked blurry and faded when I first opened my eyes, and the atmosphere was colder than it had been earlier. For a few minutes, I lay there, the sheets soft around me, trying to bring my mind out of a haze and recall what exactly I was doing there.

There was something I was forgetting, something that was supposed to be important but seemed far away. I blinked hard a couple of times, and then tried to sit up.

Bad move.

The pain which flared up in my shoulder was sudden and intense, hitting me so hard that it felt like someone had cut off my oxygen. I let out a heavy groan, my other hand coming up to cup the injury, brain woozy with pain as I managed to finally sit up.

I grit my teeth against the throbbing ache, feeling it become duller as I waited. It was then that I noticed my torso was uncovered except for my bra, the wound in my shoulder wrapped in layers of feather-light gauze stained red with my blood.

“You're up.”

I didn't look up, having recognized the voice as belonging to none other than Lee Taeyong. Such was the pain that I didn't even feel embarrassed at being half-undressed in front of him, and anyway, he had seen me in something close to that anyway.

“Where am I?” I asked, not raising my face as he drew up a chair next to the bed I sat on, the sudden loud noise making me cringe.

“Safe house,” he said, and from the corner of my vision I could see him lean forward with his elbows on his knees. “And if you're going to yell at me for undressing you, I had no choice. It was either that or risking infection in your injury.”

Slowly, I remembered the events that had taken place—when? The previous night? The night before? I didn't even know how long I had been out, but I had definitely lost some precious time, which for some reason, pissed me off.

“I wasn't going to,” I muttered, finally looking up to examine as much of the wound as I could. “How bad is it?”

“Just a flesh wound,” he said. “It managed to graze the top of your shoulder, but thankfully it didn't get your bone. I don't know too much about bullet wounds, but I think it'll be much better in about a month.”

I didn't reply to that, instead running my fingertips lightly over the material covering my injury. The room was bare except for the bed and a couple of chairs, which I guessed was a given since this place was probably not used very often. His blood red hair and the stains on the gauze stood out against the otherwise bareness of the room.

“How long has it been?” I wondered aloud, picking a little at the thread. “Since that night?”

“You were out for a day.” His chest rose and fell in a single deep breath. “Don’t put too much pressure on your shoulder, at least for a week.”

Silence prevailed again, thickening the tension in the room enough so that it could have been cut by a knife. I didn't move, afraid that if he came too close, I wouldn't be able to control my own self.

“Did you know him?” He asked, his voice quiet and serious. When I looked at him, his gaze was unwavering—not hostile or particularly fiery, but there was a stillness to it that seemed much worse than any physical display of anger. “The one who hit you.”

Choosing to stay quiet for a moment to get my bearings, I looked back at him. There had been so many rising conflicts in my mind about him recently, but now that we were alone, my thoughts were as calm and deep as the sea. He had treated my injury, after all, and had been the one to kind-of rescue me. Maybe the latter was a part of his job description, but it still troubled me somehow.

“Yeah.” The word was quiet, toned down, and almost lost even in the still silence of the room.

He didn't react for a second, keeping his eyes on mine as his lips slowly pressed into a thin line.

“What did you do?” He asked finally, almost whispering, but I wasn't sure if it was because of the need of secrecy or because he simply couldn't speak louder. “Back in Daejeon, which made them so desperate to come after you?”

I didn't know whether he was actually trying to get under my skin, but his words let the emotions rise like the high tide in my otherwise calm thoughts. The memories crashed against the shore like tall waves, the remembrance of the face of the one who had shot me both literally and metaphorically.

But I didn't speak.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. Can you tell one of us, at least? Baekhyun, if you want, or Vernon.”

Now, I wasn't sure if he genuinely wanted me to speak, or if he was trying to rile me up, but it worked. My temper rose instantly, completely different from how calm I had been a moment ago.

“Why them, exactly?” I raised an eyebrow, making his face harden in the familiar way it did whenever we had a petty argument. “I don't understand what your deal is, Taeyong, because you've never been curious about my past before. Getting a bullet out of me doesn't mean you can do whatever you want with me.”

He laughed, a humourless sound that made him seem even hollower than before. “And I don't even get a thanks.”

Immediately, I felt guilty, but pushed down the feeling before it could rise further. It was aggravating how he had to drag everyone else's name into everything, especially when I was painfully aware of how I was being less than decisive by being into so many people. But the way he never bothered to watch his words always made me feel like he got a kick out of provoking me and mocking me, like I was some sort of entertainment for him.

And then, the kiss—my mind was in turmoil about what I was supposed to feel about him. I was attracted to him, way too much for it to be something controllable, but whenever he spoke it made me want to strangle him with picture wire. Every second of him was infuriating, made me feel like I was crazy for even trying to decide between alternatives.

“No matter what happens, you just—” I swallowed despite my dry throat, the millions of emotions swirling in my mind making it difficult to form a sentence that made sense. “You always have to say something to make me feel like crap.”

He didn't reply to that, but the coldness of his expression made it even harder not to trip over my words. Here I was, with a bullet wound in my shoulder, trying to sort out my feelings for someone who seemed hell bent on reminding me that I was weak. Weak, to all my temptations and my mistakes.

“It's always Vernon, or someone else, and it drives me crazy.” I clenched my jaw, clutching the sheets that had bunched up around me. “It's maddening how I can never tell how you feel, how I always to wonder what's going on in your mind even if I don't have to—”

I broke off, trying to control my breathing. It felt stupid that I was going off about something as irrelevant as this when I had literally been shot by someone I had been so close to, but I couldn't help it. It was as if around him, all my mental stability went out the window.

“You don't have to,” Taeyong simply said, but his eyes held volumes of words, everything that he either couldn't say or didn't want to say, and I was damned if I was going to try and spend all my time trying to decipher them. “You don't trust me?”

“What?” The question was unexpected, throwing me off guard.

“You said you couldn't tell how I feel,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine, looking completely in control of his emotions unlike the night in his car. “Does that mean you don't trust me?”

I stared at him, unable to answer him yet again. He always did this, coming up with something that I had no clue about, a sliver of a moment that made me believe there was something there before it broke again. “I said I couldn't understand what you wanted,” I said in a small voice, unsure of where my words were going. “But that doesn't mean...that I don't…”

He was up in a split second, his hand cupping my jaw as he pressed his lips to mine. The movement was so unanticipated that I almost backed away, but as the line of his body pressed into me, my eyes fluttered shut.

This time, it was softer, but still heated. Our lips molded together, slowly moving into each other as we got used to the rhythm. His fingertips brushed my neck, sending lightning jumping through my nerves, making me arch against him like a dancer. Despite all that had just happened, all that I'd just said, at that moment, everything felt perfectly right.

His long lashes brushed my cheek, and his forearm glided over my injured shoulder carefully, coming to rest on my back. Even if I'd forgotten it before, I was reminded of the fact that I was only in a bra and jeans; the skin-to-skin contact of his hand with my back made a certain feeling ignite in my chest, something I had felt before, but not in such a long time that it left me dizzy.

It was like the night in the car again, with all of him against all of me, his lips over my neck and jaw, my hands in his hair. He felt like a painting coming to life under my hands, every touch bringing us closer and closer, wanting nothing more than to solder the hot metal of our bodies together, even if it felt like a sin.

“Trust me,” Taeyong rasped, and the breath of his voice against my ear made my head tip back, convincing me to surrender myself to him. His fingers worked into my skin, my hair, making me shudder and fall apart in his hands. “Let me show you how I feel.”

My hands clawed at his shirt, halfway up his chest, drawing over the sharp lines and planes of his abdomen, his chest, his collar and painting them to life underneath. It felt natural, just being there, with him, as I slowly lost my grasp on the world, catching myself thinking how if he was the drug, maybe I wouldn't hesitate.

“Taeyong,” I breathed, making him tremble like an undone knot, the warmth that had sparked the fire between us slowly burning to a supernova. “Taeyong.”

“I can't—” He stopped as I kissed him again, as his hands worked down my back, wandering up to my nape so that there would be nothing but skin between us. “No matter how hard I try, I can't hold back—”

“Then don't.” One, two, three, as we slipped away from the world, from reality, finding a sort of distorted salvation in each other's arms.

But it broke too soon, as the door downstairs opened and shut with a thump, making us jump apart. I somehow pulled myself together, the sudden arrival like ice cold water in my veins, bringing me back to my senses.

My mind was still whirling when a moment later, Baekhyun pulled open the door. If he noticed our disheveled appearances, he didn't show it, instead focusing on me with a slightly messed-up version of his usual flat gaze.

“Hey,” he said, sounding a little breathless. “Can we talk?”

──────

some of you are really on to something and it's driving me WILD, like i really wanna reveal it to you already but i can't sigh

and okay some are really wilding out there with the theories lmao, but it doesn't matter because i love reading your opinions, even if it's on tiny little parts of the story. i'm so hyped, not even kidding.

so keep dropping your theories, even if they sound crazy, ESPECIALLY if they sound crazy. seriously. i love them.

also, if you really really want to know something: reread. every. single. line. there are clues literally everywhere, i've legit seen you guys miss some super obvious things cause of excitement.

love,
Manx.