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Wooyoung left the heavy church door open, letting in some of the fresh evening air as he sweeped the floor. The funeral had dragged on for longer than he had expected; no one likes to bury the young. But the parents of the dead boy had a lot of friends, the boy had had a plenty as well, filling up the small church in their village that Wooyoung barely had a place to sit. He had gone up to the front one time to sing, a beautiful song that he knew the boy had liked, and when he went back to sit, teary-eyed and with a heavy heart, there was no place for him on the pew and he had to stand in the back. He’d felt like that often, the more after San had died; there was no place for him in this world anymore. He wondered if San had felt that way, too.
He swallowed the lump building up in his throat as he continued gathering dust onto a pile in the middle of the church. After everyone including the priest had left to mourn in private or sleep, he took the opportunity to pray in silence, spending an entire hour on his knees to search for answers – was San in pain now? Had he been in pain before? Had it been someone taking his life, or had it been by his own hand?
He shuddered at the thought. San wouldn’t, he had always been so happy! Wooyoung always saw him smiling and that had to mean he was happy. He cursed at whoever it was, taking the life of someone so bright, so cheerful, then he asked for forgiveness for not being able to save San; lastly, he asked for strength. It had barely been a week since San had passed, a week too long to spend stuck inside his head, replaying every single moment, every single guilty thought…
It was over now. In a way, he was free now.
The wind picked up outside, stealing its way into the church to mess up Wooyoung’s pile of dust and fly high into the tower and rattle the bell, whistling and singing like a ghastly choir before tugging on the front door. It slammed shut, startling Wooyoung to drop the broom and completely undo all of his work. He would have to start anew.
Is this my punishment? My atonement?
He sighed, running a hand through his hair – he was overdue for a cut – before making his way to the door. He grabbed a chair to prop the door open so the draft wouldn’t slam it again, taking a moment to breathe in the late summer night. The village was long asleep, quietly resting along the rustling creek and Wooyoung delved into the idea of sleeping under the stars tonight, for what could be the last time that year given the slowly decreasing temperature. He didn’t have loving parents that would go look for him even if it was freezing; briefly, he wondered if anyone would even come if it had been his funeral that day.
A black cat ran right past him. It meowed in greeting before disappearing behind a gravestone and Wooyoung felt a shiver run down his spine. He crossed himself, clutching the rosary in his pocket to make sure it was still there, with garnet and a pendant of Saint Sebastian – San’s mother had given it to him that day, as a memory, as if Wooyoung needed a physical reminder to think of San’s fingers wrapped around the dark red beads…
Lost in thought he turned around only to bump into a hunk of muscle.
“Sorry–” he muttered at first, confused as to who else would hide in the church this late, but then he looked up.
No. No, that’s impossible.
His eyes sparkled red, like the garnet on his rosary, but everything else was the same. He was pale, awfully so that Wooyoung felt the coldness of his skin just from looking at it, and he was smiling – no, smirking, down at him. It was the devil himself.
“S– no,” he shook his head. He must’ve been tired, he was hallucinating, surely.
It’s not impossible.
He had heard tales of something like this happening before, his priest recited one to him too, about unhappy brides drowning in a dam only to come back and haunt their widowers, of unholy men ending their lives prematurely by a blade and then being reanimated by demons to prolong their suffering… but no, this just had to be something that looked like him.
“Oh no, it is him,” he spoke, making Wooyoung freeze in the spot. It sounded exactly like him.
“No,” he managed a croak, “no, no, it’s not. No–”
The creature in front of him chuckled, looking at its hands. His hands. “They buried me in this? My folks really have no taste, huh?”
“Don’t… !” Wooyoung interrupted the creature, making it meet his eyes. “You’re not h-him.” Because it was a demon. It possessed the body of Wooyoung’s dead friend because it was no murderer that had ended his life. Suddenly, it dawned on Wooyoung. It had been a suicide.
The demon chuckled again and Wooyoung wanted to hurt it just for stealing his voice. “Alright, you got me. Your boy has a lot of memories of you being smart, seems like he’s right.”
Wooyoung wanted to throw up. In a moment of bravery he took a step back, the door should still be open, he should be able to run away–
He heard a slam, breaking of wood and then he was mid-air, wind hurling past him until his back hit something cold. He yelped and held in a sob, opening his eyes that he’d shut in shock. The demon in his dead friend’s body was at the door which was now closed, splinters of a chair strewn all around the entrance as it had been crushed, and Wooyoung found himself at the complete opposite side of the church. The demon had thrown him at the steps leading up to the altar.
“And you’re a feisty one, too,” the demon said, nearing him in confident strides. “But don’t worry, they all break anyway,” he added almost as if to himself.
“Who are you and what did you do to S– him,” Wooyoung managed, having given up on trying to get up. He had definitely sprained something during the fall.
The demon laughed, now standing directly above him. He had his hands in the pockets of the suit, confident that he had the upper hand. In terror Wooyoung realized he really had the upper hand. Wooyoung had no chance. “Oh, but in a way, I am him,” he said. The mockery in his voice disappeared for a moment and it was perhaps even more terrifying. “I know you’ve been hurting over it. He’d hurt too, but he’s not anymore. And I’m here to ease your pain.” Then, because Wooyoung fully expected a condition, a deal with the devil: “But you have to let me.”
“I don’t believe you,” he gritted through his teeth, tears threatening to spill, but he refused to seem weak. “Tell me who you are and what you did,” he tried to negotiate, to put his foot down.
“But you already know my name, Young-ah,” he said, honey dripping from his lips as he said the nickname that only one person had ever used.
“No,” he choked out a sob. “You’re the devil.”
“Come on, I’m not literally the devil. That guy is dead and so is God. It’s just humanity, the demons and the rocks now. We’re alone.”
The demon’s eyes raked over his body, vulnerable on the marble steps and Wooyoung didn’t miss the way the demon licked his lips, as if he were to devour him. Or… his blood ran cold. “You’re a… an incubus.”
“Good boy,” the demon purred before taking a step forward – and placing his foot directly onto Wooyoung’s sternum. He pushed a breath out of him, making him disregard the confused spark that the nickname sent into his crotch. “Now tell me my name,” he threatened, a victorious smile already playing on his lips.
Wooyoung couldn’t help but gasp for air. The cold marble was splitting his back and he had to keep his neck strained to maintain eye contact with the demon, and now he had to hold an entire man’s weight on his ribs. His vision was starting to blur and the weight lifted a little bit, but only to keep him conscious.
“My. Name.” It echoed in the church, louder than any human voice, louder than their old pipe organ and it reverberated through his entire body too, shaking him with fear and something else too.
“San,” he heard himself whisper, terrified of what would happen if he kept silent.
But judging from the way the demon looked at him now, it was bound to happen anyway.
With a shudder, Wooyoung found himself wanting.
“Good boy,” the demon… San, said, sending another spark into his abdomen. “It’s only gonna get harder from now on,” he said and as if to prove his point, removed his foot only to place it directly on his crotch. He smiled in mischief and clicked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Or is it already?”
Wooyoung whimpered in what he thought was pain, hoped was pain, his head falling back onto the marble. “Why– why do you–”
“I told you already, I’m here to ease the pain.” He put pressure onto his foot again and Wooyoung realised he was preventing himself from lifting his hips to search for the touch when San removed his foot completely. He heard faint moans echo through the empty, dark church and with shame burning through his body recognised it as his own.
San scoffed and then Wooyoung’s body was being hauled into the air again until he landed on the altar, legs dangling off the edge. In a second San appeared right above him, taking in the sight as if he was a feast and he was ready to dive in. With a foreign feeling pounding in his heart he had the thought that maybe that was exactly what San was seeing.
“Ah, you still don’t understand, huh?” He stood in front of him, hands on both of his knees. “Young-ah… always so smart but you never really understood, hm? Why he– I followed you around everywhere.” His voice sounded almost exactly like his San, but sickly sweet. The words carried a confession but the tone carried poison. “Why I always smiled with you. Why I did it to myself.”
Wooyoung gulped. He was hard, embarrassingly so and there was no hiding of the fact. San had him pinned down to the surface and his hands on his knees pulled the fabric of his pants taut, exposing the obvious outline of his dick.
“You weren’t the only one having those filthy thoughts every night,” San smirked before leaning forward to lick his neck. He hummed as if his skin was made of sugar. “Delicious. I’ve fed on them many times.” Wooyoung couldn’t help a whimper escape his throat when San’s hot tongue made contact with his skin once again. “Ahh… I’ve dreamt about taking you apart on this very altar,” he muttered into his ear, pulling him closer to the edge so he could feel him too. San was hard too and he pulled his knees apart in time to press right against him, making him release an embarrassing moan.
“You– you’re lying,” he managed, squeezing his eyes shut to escape his burning gaze.
San chuckled. “Oh so you still don’t believe me?” Wooyoung refused to answer and San took a moment to think. “What do I have to tell you to convince you? What about that one time… we were eighteen and had a sleepover. You woke up in the middle of the night and I was right behind you, pressing against your ass just like now… you thought I was asleep. But you didn’t pull away.” Wooyoung wanted to close his legs, remembering the event vividly. His ears burned in shame just like they had back then. “You let me grind against you the entire night and then ran away in the morning to jerk off,” San continued telling the story, his mouth moving as if he was eating it up, as if Wooyoung’s shame was a nectar that he licked from the thin air. “Now, tell me. Do you believe me now?”
He made the point of thrusting against his clothed crotch and that was how Wooyoung lost it. “San,” he moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure. San repeated the motion, circling his hips slowly.
“Ah, you just loved being used like that, huh? You just laid there and let me leak against you.”
“Stop it,” Wooyoung whimpered. “I believe you, just stop talking, ‘so embarrassing–”
But San only hummed. “That’s more like it. Oh you should see yourself, gasping like a whore and I’ve barely done anything yet.”
Wooyoung let out another embarrassing noise at the name itself. San surely saw into his deepest, darkest fantasies to come up with it. He opened his eyes to see San already watching him.
“Be good and undo your pants for me, yeah?”
And Wooyoung had to be under a spell, or maybe he had given in completely to sin because the next thing he knew was his hands trembling on the button of his pants, trying to gather enough strength in his fingers to undo it. He was painfully hard and although it felt like every single of his nerve endings was on fire, being consumed by San’s gaze alone, he was willing to endure it for the sake of relieving the ache.
“Look at you, can’t even take off your pants? How do you expect me to fuck you, hm?” San pushed his hands away, grabbed the top hem of his pants – and pulled. The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the entire church and Wooyoung’s ass landed on the cold marble, making him hiss from the sudden temperature change.
It made him look around; they were in the church. The sudden realisation dawned on him. He was going to let a demon undo all of the years he’d spent reading and memorizing the word of god, the months he’d spent learning songs to praise the lord, the agonizing hours of repenting himself for thinking unspeakable things about his closest friend; the long long minutes of telling himself no when his heart was saying yes. Was he truly forgetting it all because of a momentary spark of bliss? Was he going to deny heaven for the devil himself?
“Young-ah,” San spoke up, dangerously gently. He met his gaze and realised San had torn off his pants and underwear too and he was now completely naked, his erection already leaking onto his stomach. “Worried about your god? The same god that gave you shitty parents and never did anything for you? Is he telling you that this is bad?”
To illustrate his point he wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped it a couple of times, making Wooyoung bite his lips to not let out another sound. But then he drew his hand away and his hips rose up to chase the touch, giving him away. San clicked his tongue.
“But look at how desperate you are and I barely touched you,” he returned his fingers to his cock, teasing him with the lightest of touches, ghosting over the bare skin of his thighs and disappearing between his legs. “How could this be something bad, hm?” He brought his fingers to his mouth and wrapped his lips around them. When he pulled them out, Wooyoung instantly knew it wasn’t human saliva. It looked glossy, sticky, and it was everywhere. The next thing he knew was those two fingers teasing his rim. “You know how good it feels, you’ve done it before. You’ve fucked yourself with those tiny hands of yours but it never felt satisfying. No matter how much you imagined that it was me instead.”
Wooyoung burned with humiliation. He had masturbated a handful of times and all of those he had regretted deeply, spending long hours of praying for forgiveness. He hadn’t expected his pleas to be heard by the devil himself.
San’s fingers breached him and he gasped, bracing himself for pain – that never came. San started out slowly, spreading him right on the altar as if there wasn’t a giant crucifix hanging right behind Wooyoung. “Why did your god give you this cute cock if he didn’t want you to use it, hm?” He pushed inside and Wooyoung screamed in pleasure, hot flames licking up his insides as the pressure rapidly built inside of him. He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, trying to hide his face in the crook of his shoulder as moans kept spilling out of his mouth, along with curses that he’d never dared to even think in a church. San only laughed. “Oh… except you don’t even know how to use it, right?”
He added another finger and Wooyoung opened his eyes just in time to see him lick his lips, gaze glued on his ass.
“Fuck… you just look so delicious,” he said before ducking down. Wooyoung pushed his knees together again, self-conscious about being observed like that, and to his surprise San didn’t stop him – except he grabbed his ankles now and before he could realise what was happening he felt it against his entrance. San’s tongue pushed into him, taking all words out of his mouth so he could barely scream profanities, reducing him to desperate sobs. It was nothing short of humiliating, to let himself be taken apart without any resistance; he felt San’s saliva trickling down his ass onto the marble and that sensation alone made him clench all of his muscles in an attempt to withhold his pleasure.
But then San combined the skill of his tongue with his fingers and that made Wooyoung lose it. “San, San, please, please,” he begged, not even sure what for.
San rose up, plunging his fingers into him, all four fucking him with the substance that San produced in his mouth, making obscene noises that made Wooyoung even more impossibly hard. He hummed, satisfied with the results of his work. “Your cute cock really is useless. Thank god I can at least use you as a hole.”
He crossed his legs again but it was too late. He cried out, curling onto himself as he came all over himself, unable to stop it. He felt hot liquid seeping through his shirt, some of it landed on the area of his chest that he’d left exposed and he even felt a drop on his neck.
Completely lost in the pleasure, Wooyoung barely registered San clicking his tongue above him. “So messy,” he muttered. He grabbed his jaw, a grip so strong that Wooyoung had no choice but to look up at him through his wet lashes. “Next time you ask for permission, yeah?” he spat, letting go of his face to tug him closer to the altar edge.
Thighs trembling, Wooyoung heard himself whisper: “Next time…?”
But San only laughed, demonic. “I’m not done with you yet, baby.”
He had no strength to reply but San noticed the confusion in his face.
“Oh no, don’t worry your head about it,” he cooed, stroking his face way too gently. “Just lay here and take it. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me use you, yeah?”
It sounded so wrong, so derogatory, making the smoldering pit in his stomach burn the more painfully, no matter how worn out he was already.
“That’s it,” San smiled at him, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his underwear just enough for his cock to spring up, flushed red. Wooyoung knew that San had been blessed in that regard, estimating so from the times he felt his erection over his pants or from what he’d caught the glimpse of during hot summers at the lake. But nothing could compare to seeing him at that moment, fully erect with precome glistening at the tip as he aligned himself with Wooyoung’s hole. “All you need to do is listen to me and you will feel so good, Wooyoungie,” he said, focusing on his cock pressing at his entrance. “Will you be good and listen to me?”
Wooyoung whimpered in response as he felt the head of San’s cock enter him, splitting him apart. He had come once already but he was getting hard again, his cock covered in his own come, red and weak but still twitching against his abdomen. He really did feel useless.
A hand grabbed his face again, making him look at San. He was angry and Wooyoung twitched again. “Look at me and answer,” he gritted through his teeth, driving his point home by slamming right into him. Wooyoung screamed out but there was no pain, only pleasure, and impossible warmth spreading through his entire body. He had never felt this good, this full.
“Yes,” he gasped out, not even sure what he was agreeing to, only aware that he wanted, no, needed more. “Yes, yes,” he repeated, broken. When he met San’s gaze it only increased the heat in his stomach.
“Good,” San chuckled. “You’re hard again even though you’ve come already. Are you gonna come again?”
It was a mockery and Wooyoung didn’t know how to answer. Didn’t know what answer wouldn’t humiliate him further.
“Don’t worry, I will make you,” San took mercy on him eventually. He started moving, thrusting into Wooyoung in a steady rhythm and for a moment he thought that was it, that there wouldn’t be any more teasing. But San had other plans. “Fuck, I loved you so much, you know that?”
Wooyoung however, didn’t expect that.
“Oh yeah. I’ve wanted to do this for so long, fuck you against every possible surface until you couldn’t walk,” he continued, keeping the pace of his hips slow as if to savor every second. “But you loved your church too much, your god,” he emphasized with a harsh thrust, “look at where your god is now. Is he watching you whine like a little bitch on my cock?”
Wooyoung stifled his next moan, biting his lips as if it would help not give San what he wanted. The problem was, he wanted it too. There was little hiding of the fact when San was watching his every move, every twitch from above.
“Or are you ready to finally admit that I am your god?” – a harsh thrust of hips, a whimper out of Wooyoung’s lips – “That it’s me you get on your knees for?” – another snap, another sob – “That it’s me who you ask for forgiveness? It’s my name that you call out when you’re knuckles deep into yourself?”
He was crying, tears running down his face as he moaned in pleasure. “Yes, yes,” he needed to agree, “it’s you. God, it’s you.”
Devilish laughter. “I knew it,” he said, quickening his pace as a reward. “This god loves you, see?”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung whimpered and it was the truth. He’d never felt so appreciated, so loved like now. The warmth coiled in his abdomen and he knew it was love. “He loves me.”
“Can you feel it, Wooyoungie?”
“Yeah,” he repeated, breathless. He looked into San’s eyes but he was already looking elsewhere.
“No,” he said. “I mean –” he let go of his legs to grab one of his hands that was clutching the edge of the altar. He moved it to Wooyoung’s abdomen and he almost flinched when he felt it. “Can you feel it? How good I’m fucking you?”
He looked at where his hand was placed; there was a bulge in his abdomen and it moved in and out, in time with San’s thrusts.
“Ah yes,” San muttered, arousal dripping from his voice. “Put your hands on it. See for yourself just how deep I am.”
His tempo faltered a little bit when Wooyoung applied pressure, making himself dizzy. His thighs quivered around San’s waist just from watching the way his cock moved inside his tummy, so far in that Wooyoung wouldn’t be surprised to feel it in his throat next.
The thought alone made him moan. He threw his head back when San tried a different angle, making him see stars. “Oh, what’s this?” San said out of nowhere, his thrusts slowing down again. Wooyoung looked up again to see him grabbing something from the altar.
Saint Sebastian.
He distantly recalled hearing a clink of metal when San tore his pants – it must’ve fallen out then.
San held up the rosary in the space between them, inspecting it. He chuckled. “Of course. It’s mine. Which other saint than the one tied up, helpless?”
Wooyoung wanted to protest, or at least he thought so; in reality he was fixated on the way San’s mouth opened up for the cross pendant, tasting it as if he was a roman emperor savoring fresh grapes.
“Open up,” he said and tore Wooyoung out of a focused trance. The pendant was dangling right above his face, covered in thick saliva, the same sticky substance that he was fucking him with.
Wooyoung opened his mouth like it was the last drop of water in the world.
San’s spit was the first thing he tasted, sweet like caramel, trickling down his throat to reveal the bitter taste of metal. “So good,” the demon purred. “You’re sucking him right in. Such a good hole for me.”
“God,” Wooyoung whimpered after San pulled out the pendant, letting it fall onto the altar next to his head. San smirked at the title. “G– god, please.”
“Yes?” he asked, delivering thrusts so violent that Wooyoung could barely speak.
“I– can I– I’m close, can I–”
“Aww,” San cooed, releasing one of his thighs to wipe away the tears that he didn’t even realise were continuing to stream down his face. “You’ve learned to be good?” Wooyoung nodded rapidly, moaning. “You are good. You can come, but I’m not going to stop just because you do, alright?”
Not thinking about the consequences, Wooyoung decided to focus on the yes and before he knew it, another orgasm ripped through him, shaking him to the core as he added into the pool of his own come on his stomach. He heard himself cry out San’s name, pleading for something as the air carried the echo back to him. The momentary bliss was too intense for him to feel the embarrassment.
The second his orgasm ebbed, he regretted it. San continued to fuck him through it and it quickly became too much. He trashed, wanting to escape, but San reacted quickly and grabbed both of his wrists in one hand, the other holding his thigh in a vicious grip, immobilising him no matter how much he screamed.
“The whole village’s gonna hear you, whore,” he said, but the name made Wooyoung moan harder. “I told you I wasn’t gonna stop. Did I fuck the brains out of you?”
He twitched, painfully. It made him tilt his hips up; he needed San to touch him.
“I see you don’t mind the entire world hearing you, is that right? You let all of the heavens watch me breed you, after all.” Wooyoung gasped for air but San didn’t mind it. “And you’ve thought about being watched before, too. You sat on my lap during Sunday’s mass and squirmed until I got hard. And while the priest talked about sin you thought about riding me right then and there.”
He was hard again; San wasn’t wrong. He had had way too many unholy thoughts about San but he had always hoped that San didn’t see it that way. That San was too innocent to understand it as anything else but friendly teasing, as accidents that kept happening whenever they got close.
“But it never got to that. You’ve thought about it so many times, about having me come down your throat or have me dripping out of your ass as proof that I was there, marking you from inside. Something always stopped you, though. Am I right, Wooyoungie? You were never able to make me come.”
Wooyoung sobbed out an affirmative, regret laced with orgasmic bliss. San’s cock was hitting all the sweet spots inside of him that it turned him into a numb mess, unable to do anything but moan. San could slap his face and he would barely register it.
“But you can make me come now,” San interrupted his train of thoughts. “Come on, Young-ah. Make me come.”
Wooyoung didn’t know what San meant by that, after all, he was just letting San use him. But then San wrapped a hand around his hardened cock and it made him clench in oversensitivity. San smirked, panting.
“That’s it, good boy,” he said but Wooyoung could hear that he was affected too, pretty mouth curling up into a frown. “Ah, Wooyoungie…” he moaned, causing him to throw his head back as he continued to stroke him. “You’re the prettiest like this, fuck, I’m gonna pump you full–”
He was cut off by a groan and Wooyoung felt it too, warmth pouring into him, there was a lot of it, way too much and even though San kept fucking him he felt it trickling out, hot on his skin. His third orgasm was dry after just a couple of strokes of San’s hand when his head was full of static, lost somewhere in another dimension. He distantly heard San praise him, caress his cheek as he pulled out and warm come leaked out of him. A set of fingers pushed it back into him but there was simply too much; he felt it on his ajar lips, sweet like San’s spit had been, sliding into his throat with no obstruction, like the nectar of gods…
The last thing he saw before passing out was San, looking at him with the genuine smile of an angel.
Wooyoung woke up to the sunrise. It peeked from behind the hills in the east, gentle rays of sunshine awakening the valley and covering the ground with thousands of tiny diamonds, sparkling on the thin blades of grass; it was just as Wooyoung had known it from his long years of living there. He heard the creek behind him and felt the uneven ground under him; he was covered in a blanket and it was warm. He was warm.
He briefly recalled San carrying him out of the church, like a bride through the front entrance all the way to the river. He had washed him and covered his skin in kisses and praises before helping him into a change of clothes that he stole from the church.
A hand carded through his hair and he sleepily leaned into it, content.
“Morning,” he heard from above him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned around to see the source of the sound. San was sitting right behind him, in the same clothes as the previous night, smiling at him. Honestly. Affectionately.
“San,” Wooyoung managed, his voice hoarse from sleep and … their night. Memories flashed behind his eyelids but he didn’t have it in him to feel ashamed or guilty. Had he completely given himself to evil?
Looking at the face above him, he couldn’t find a single reason to find that wrong.
“It’s okay,” San leaned down to kiss his temple. “If you want, I will leave you alone now.”
Wooyoung grabbed his wrist before he even knew what to say. “Wait,” he tried. “No.”
San gave him a confused look. Wooyoung sat up, bringing their faces closer.
“I want to know – how much of him is left.”
San looked down at the wrist Wooyoung held in both of his hands. “Wooyoung…”
“No, I want to know the truth. Is it all you, the demon? Or is there something, anything that’s left of him? My best friend?” To drive the point home, he used one of his hands to bring San’s chin up to face him.
San smiled, bittersweet. “Wooyoungie… it’s… complicated.”
“I have time. Just tell me and then I will decide if you need to leave or not.”
He took a deep breath and began to explain. “Demons… they don’t have souls. They’re not like you, humans. They possess a body to feed off its thoughts, in my case sinful thoughts. Like mosquitos, they find the source and the moment they’re done, they leave. And usually it’s easy. Most humans have pools of lust right at the surface of their soul but San… his– my desire, for you, it’s everywhere. The reason I knew so much about you two, us two, was because there isn’t a single memory in this body that isn’t laced with you. Every single cell, all of the blood keeping it alive, has your name written all over it.”
Wooyoung didn’t understand. How could a dead body have memories? Why was every single one about him?
San caressed his cheek, smiling, but there were tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “San, he… I love you. Being in this body and seeing it all, feeling it all – it made me into him. The demon, it was supposed to feed but it lost its way. Now it needs to keep San alive so he could love you. He… I want to be loved by you.”
He let out a sob watching San – his San, his one and only, the love of his life – confess. He was confused, he was warm but out of everything he was angry with himself. He was the one that made San end his life.
“But you’re also why I’m still here. The demon, it’s keeping me alive because of you and I will be by your side until you won’t want me anymore. Wooyoung, I–”
“San,” he interrupted him, suddenly having made up his mind. “Kiss me.”
And the boy in front of him didn’t hesitate, bringing their faces closer to press a soft kiss on his lips. Butterflies erupted in Wooyoung’s stomach; it was their first kiss but Wooyoung knew.
“It’s you,” he wept before kissing him again. “It’s still you.”
“Still me,” San chuckled softly, genuinely.
“If you give me a second chance, if you help me figure this out… San, let’s try a second time. Let’s run away.”