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⠄⠄⠄ but i'd rather be going your way
tw: blood, non-con, murder, cannibalism, hallucinations. read at your own risk.
﹙ zhanghao — little lamb, who made thee? ﹚
little lamb, little lamb
why dont you bleat?
i can tell you,
you sound so sweet
...
every time hao laid gentle hands on him, hanbin never fought back. there was no point. he shivered, cowered, hiding his eyes from him; and he counted the seconds until it was all done.
his skin flushed in an innocent way hao enjoyed, and he was so aware of how his entire body felt. it burned; every bit of him was alive and screaming, demanding it to be over — please, please, please, stop. his breaths were heavy. gasps of discomfort escaped his lips. and he shushed away his tears, warm touches building up and up and up, body further pressed into the mattress.
it'd be over soon, he knew, once hao leaned in to peck his bruised lips or the back of his neck. whenever he was satisfied, hao said he loved him. hanbin whispered it back. and the pit in his stomach grew.
every time zhang hao laid violent hands on him, hanbin doubted if love was meant to be this cruel. he'd cry, bleed, sob, and tremble, on the cold bathroom floor, cleaning himself. his bloody hands reminded him of his father, and he spiraled... and spiraled... and spiraled.
it always took a second until hao loved him again, anger cooling down in the following days. hanbin became a guilty ghost, invisible in their house, waiting until he could bloom again — please, please, please, love me again. hao would, then, hold hanbin's face like the shattered porcelain doll he was, glued back together by the breadcrumbs of attention he still spared from time to time, caressing his bruises and kissing them gently.
you forgive me, right. and hanbin would nod, nod, nod, and nod. every day. for years. because he had to forgive him. who else would love him and all his sins? forgiveness had never felt so bitter, wrapped by regret and grudges, held together by a weak bandaid that was their love...
it was march 30th, 2024, and there were warm hands on him. hanbin choked on nothing at the thought of hao yanking his arm and pinning him down, a low sound escaping his tight lips. he finally opened his eyes and it wasn't zhang hao in his bed. he couldn't move away. he couldn't breathe. those black eyes carved a deep hole in his stomach, and hanbin swore he spilled everything to him with his own doe-like stare — please, please, please, i'm scared. the devil continued to stare at him, and hanbin wanted to cry again.
hao wasn't there anymore. he must've left. he must've walked away angry and left hanbin to deal with his sh*t. that's so him... to disappear.
hanbin goes to his picnic. he smiles. he eats. he breathes. and he doesn't feel guilty. his father doesn't appear in front of his eyes, and the boys who look like him seem to leave him alone for now. everything is light, and his stomach doesn't hurt. he's alright. he's alright. he's alright. he's alright.
( despite growing up in a religious household, he never believed in god. today, however, hanbin began thinking that maybe God had finally decided to be kind to him. but he was wrong. )
although winter has ended, the air is still cool, hanbin feels the sun kissing his skin, as he walks to the restaurant near his mother's house. his lips pull upwards in a small smile, and his skin fits him just right. his heart doesn't squeeze. there's no fear. he's alright. he's alright.
a familiar laugh catches his ear.
hanbin freezes.
his doe-eyes jump to the figure of zhang hao standing right outside of the café. and his mask drops to the floor before hanbin can think of how to behave. a dark blue scarf wrapped around his neck because hao was always so cold. his black hair was brushed back nicely, and he looked healthy. so healthy. he hangs up, and shoves his phone in the front pocket of his trenchcoat.
"hao-hyung," he's suddenly back in 2022, in his bedroom, gripping his bedsheets as he felt hao's lips around his hips. hanbin's hands close, like he wanted to punch him just as much as he wanted to feel his skin.
those hellish eyes land on him, and hanbin is small, small, small, small, and fragile. and stupid. hao looks... annoyed? "ah, hanbin. did you get hurt again?"
he glances at the visible cut on hanbin's forehead.
hanbin is nauseous. sick. a queasy feeling in the stomach comes to him, and he can't breathe properly. they stand close to each other, "why are you everywhere?"
"i got back from china yesterday. staying for a couple of weeks,” hao simply says, not paying a lot of mind to his words.
yesterday? hanbin frowns. no. that's not true. he's lying again. he was in my house two days ago. he was there. he hit me.
hanbin shakes his head, staring at his shoes, "what? no. you, you visited me,"
hao hums, "jesus. are you still not taking medication?"
"i don't need medication," hanbin says. "i'm not crazy,"
"you're sick and only getting worse. i know you still talk to jiwoong," hao states. "what are you doing outside?” “why don’t you answer my calls?”
“we’re not together anymore,” hao clicks his tongue.
“then you.. shouldn’t care if i’m out or not,” hanbin manages to blurt out. he closes his eyes and keeps talking. “you shouldn’t have visited me. you have no.. no right to be mad. i got so scared you were gonna hurt me again,”
hao makes a face. he moves closer to him, voice quieter, like the calm before the storm. he glances around, like he’s afraid someone will see them like this. “why are you still bringing that up? it happened ages ago,”
“a.. month ago,” hanbin corrects, shivering in place. “the last time was a month ago,”
“you said you forgave me,”
“forgive doesn’t mean… forgetting,”
“well, i forgave and forgot all about you,” hao finally snaps again, grabbing hanbin’s arm. ( “hyung, don’t touch me, don’t touch me…” hanbin whispers under his breath, over and over again but hao ignores him. ) “i forgave all of the bullsh*t you put me through in the years we were together. you think it was easy for me to date a killer?” (the pit in his stomach grows.) “no, seriously. breaking us up was the best decision i could’ve ever made. look at yourself… it’s been a month and you’re still the same shell of a boy you were when i first met you.”
“don’t touch me,” that’s all hanbin manages to say.
“f***, can’t you be normal? seriously. let’s have a normal conversation without you freaking the f*** out,” hao lets go of his arm, and hanbin breathes. he rubs his hand over his arm, to kill the parasite crawling under his skin. the more he touches it the worse it feels, and the parasite nibbles at his flesh, eating him open from inside out… little by little. hao gets impatient at being ignored. “look at me. look at me, hanbin,” hao grabs a chunk of his hair, yanking his head back. “look at me while i’m talking to you,”
hanbin stares at him, and he can’t see the man he once loved with his whole heart. all he sees is a corpse, like the dead boys in his father’s shack. the ones so pale and pretty, wide empty eyes sucking his soul out the longer he stared at them. a zombie. he can hear his father’s voice in the back of his head: c’mon, hanbin. control your emotions. be a good boy, and do it like i taught you.
…
little lamb, little lamb,
full of fun and frolic,
come near, come here,
let me plant you a kiss.
hanbin snaps out of it, and he’s kneeling on a pool of red. the kitchen knife drops to the floor, and he covers his mouth. blood. blood. blood. there’s blood everywhere. the scent is strong, and he gasps and spits what’s in his mouth.
hanbin drops, moving back. hao’s body is there, right in front of him, gutted open like the boys standing near the couch. his kidneys, liver, lungs, and heart are all on display. it seems he didn’t get to finish his job.
the boys stare at him. not with rage but pure apathy. this was expected of him.
“i’m sorry,” hanbin chokes out.
tears come to his eyes, and it’s all too much. the blood soaks his shirt, and his pants, and his face is even worse. blood drips from his mouth. he doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know what to do. his father is dead. haseul hates him. his mother would faint. soobin was busy. jiwoong had never helped with anything like this, and jeongin could never see him like this.
he shoves his hand in his pocket. his phone nearly slips out of his grip, but he managed to call someone — “please, please, please, i did something terrible, wonbin.”
﹙ zhanghao — little lamb, who made thee? ﹚
little lamb, little lamb
why dont you bleat?
i can tell you,
you sound so sweet
...
every time hao laid gentle hands on him, hanbin never fought back. there was no point. he shivered, cowered, hiding his eyes from him; and he counted the seconds until it was all done.
his skin flushed in an innocent way hao enjoyed, and he was so aware of how his entire body felt. it burned; every bit of him was alive and screaming, demanding it to be over — please, please, please, stop. his breaths were heavy. gasps of discomfort escaped his lips. and he shushed away his tears, warm touches building up and up and up, body further pressed into the mattress.
it'd be over soon, he knew, once hao leaned in to peck his bruised lips or the back of his neck. whenever he was satisfied, hao said he loved him. hanbin whispered it back. and the pit in his stomach grew.
every time zhang hao laid violent hands on him, hanbin doubted if love was meant to be this cruel. he'd cry, bleed, sob, and tremble, on the cold bathroom floor, cleaning himself. his bloody hands reminded him of his father, and he spiraled... and spiraled... and spiraled.
it always took a second until hao loved him again, anger cooling down in the following days. hanbin became a guilty ghost, invisible in their house, waiting until he could bloom again — please, please, please, love me again. hao would, then, hold hanbin's face like the shattered porcelain doll he was, glued back together by the breadcrumbs of attention he still spared from time to time, caressing his bruises and kissing them gently.
you forgive me, right. and hanbin would nod, nod, nod, and nod. every day. for years. because he had to forgive him. who else would love him and all his sins? forgiveness had never felt so bitter, wrapped by regret and grudges, held together by a weak bandaid that was their love...
it was march 30th, 2024, and there were warm hands on him. hanbin choked on nothing at the thought of hao yanking his arm and pinning him down, a low sound escaping his tight lips. he finally opened his eyes and it wasn't zhang hao in his bed. he couldn't move away. he couldn't breathe. those black eyes carved a deep hole in his stomach, and hanbin swore he spilled everything to him with his own doe-like stare — please, please, please, i'm scared. the devil continued to stare at him, and hanbin wanted to cry again.
hao wasn't there anymore. he must've left. he must've walked away angry and left hanbin to deal with his sh*t. that's so him... to disappear.
hanbin goes to his picnic. he smiles. he eats. he breathes. and he doesn't feel guilty. his father doesn't appear in front of his eyes, and the boys who look like him seem to leave him alone for now. everything is light, and his stomach doesn't hurt. he's alright. he's alright. he's alright. he's alright.
( despite growing up in a religious household, he never believed in god. today, however, hanbin began thinking that maybe God had finally decided to be kind to him. but he was wrong. )
although winter has ended, the air is still cool, hanbin feels the sun kissing his skin, as he walks to the restaurant near his mother's house. his lips pull upwards in a small smile, and his skin fits him just right. his heart doesn't squeeze. there's no fear. he's alright. he's alright.
a familiar laugh catches his ear.
hanbin freezes.
his doe-eyes jump to the figure of zhang hao standing right outside of the café. and his mask drops to the floor before hanbin can think of how to behave. a dark blue scarf wrapped around his neck because hao was always so cold. his black hair was brushed back nicely, and he looked healthy. so healthy. he hangs up, and shoves his phone in the front pocket of his trenchcoat.
"hao-hyung," he's suddenly back in 2022, in his bedroom, gripping his bedsheets as he felt hao's lips around his hips. hanbin's hands close, like he wanted to punch him just as much as he wanted to feel his skin.
those hellish eyes land on him, and hanbin is small, small, small, small, and fragile. and stupid. hao looks... annoyed? "ah, hanbin. did you get hurt again?"
he glances at the visible cut on hanbin's forehead.
hanbin is nauseous. sick. a queasy feeling in the stomach comes to him, and he can't breathe properly. they stand close to each other, "why are you everywhere?"
"i got back from china yesterday. staying for a couple of weeks,” hao simply says, not paying a lot of mind to his words.
yesterday? hanbin frowns. no. that's not true. he's lying again. he was in my house two days ago. he was there. he hit me.
hanbin shakes his head, staring at his shoes, "what? no. you, you visited me,"
hao hums, "jesus. are you still not taking medication?"
"i don't need medication," hanbin says. "i'm not crazy,"
"you're sick and only getting worse. i know you still talk to jiwoong," hao states. "what are you doing outside?” “why don’t you answer my calls?”
“we’re not together anymore,” hao clicks his tongue.
“then you.. shouldn’t care if i’m out or not,” hanbin manages to blurt out. he closes his eyes and keeps talking. “you shouldn’t have visited me. you have no.. no right to be mad. i got so scared you were gonna hurt me again,”
hao makes a face. he moves closer to him, voice quieter, like the calm before the storm. he glances around, like he’s afraid someone will see them like this. “why are you still bringing that up? it happened ages ago,”
“a.. month ago,” hanbin corrects, shivering in place. “the last time was a month ago,”
“you said you forgave me,”
“forgive doesn’t mean… forgetting,”
“well, i forgave and forgot all about you,” hao finally snaps again, grabbing hanbin’s arm. ( “hyung, don’t touch me, don’t touch me…” hanbin whispers under his breath, over and over again but hao ignores him. ) “i forgave all of the bullsh*t you put me through in the years we were together. you think it was easy for me to date a killer?” (the pit in his stomach grows.) “no, seriously. breaking us up was the best decision i could’ve ever made. look at yourself… it’s been a month and you’re still the same shell of a boy you were when i first met you.”
“don’t touch me,” that’s all hanbin manages to say.
“f***, can’t you be normal? seriously. let’s have a normal conversation without you freaking the f*** out,” hao lets go of his arm, and hanbin breathes. he rubs his hand over his arm, to kill the parasite crawling under his skin. the more he touches it the worse it feels, and the parasite nibbles at his flesh, eating him open from inside out… little by little. hao gets impatient at being ignored. “look at me. look at me, hanbin,” hao grabs a chunk of his hair, yanking his head back. “look at me while i’m talking to you,”
hanbin stares at him, and he can’t see the man he once loved with his whole heart. all he sees is a corpse, like the dead boys in his father’s shack. the ones so pale and pretty, wide empty eyes sucking his soul out the longer he stared at them. a zombie. he can hear his father’s voice in the back of his head: c’mon, hanbin. control your emotions. be a good boy, and do it like i taught you.
…
little lamb, little lamb,
full of fun and frolic,
come near, come here,
let me plant you a kiss.
hanbin snaps out of it, and he’s kneeling on a pool of red. the kitchen knife drops to the floor, and he covers his mouth. blood. blood. blood. there’s blood everywhere. the scent is strong, and he gasps and spits what’s in his mouth.
hanbin drops, moving back. hao’s body is there, right in front of him, gutted open like the boys standing near the couch. his kidneys, liver, lungs, and heart are all on display. it seems he didn’t get to finish his job.
the boys stare at him. not with rage but pure apathy. this was expected of him.
“i’m sorry,” hanbin chokes out.
tears come to his eyes, and it’s all too much. the blood soaks his shirt, and his pants, and his face is even worse. blood drips from his mouth. he doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know what to do. his father is dead. haseul hates him. his mother would faint. soobin was busy. jiwoong had never helped with anything like this, and jeongin could never see him like this.
he shoves his hand in his pocket. his phone nearly slips out of his grip, but he managed to call someone — “please, please, please, i did something terrible, wonbin.”
2 | Mar 24th 2024 01:50