れい☆ (mb_lucified) wrote,

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[Fic] I Am the Creature of the Night

Title: Daylight series – I Am the Creature of the Night
Pairing: Yoosu
A/N: A series of unrelated tales inspired by Maroon 5's Daylight.
Summary: I was afraid of the dark but now it's all that I want.

“Goodnight, Yoochunnie.”

A gentle kiss was pressed onto his forehead and loving hands pulled his warm duvet up to his neck, tucking in the sides securely.

Yoochun smiled up at his mother and said his own goodnight, eyes shutting as she blew out the last lit candle in his room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep beside you tonight? A storm is coming; I can hear it.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Yoochun mumbled sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes, “nothing in the dark scares me anymore-”

“You used to be so afraid…”

Yoochun’s eyes snapped open, bright in the darkness, an almost fierce and defensive glare in them. “The dark protects me, mother. It is my friend.” Then his eyes mellowed and he shut them again, a whimsical smile on his lips. “Goodnight mother. I’ll be fine; please don’t worry.”

With one last tender gaze at her young son, Mrs Park reached out and ran a hand through his soft locks, letting her fingers linger on his head a little while longer. She rose from his four-poster bed and left his room with long, graceful strides.

Yoochun had always worried her. He was born a frail child, asthma keeping him stuck in the confines of their manor, depriving him of the friends and experiences he should have had at school. He proved to be a very bright child, especially gifted in the fields of music and writing. And he was such a sweet, sweet child; all the servants and his governesses had always told her so. Being homeschooled and mostly kept at home, his underdeveloped social skills coupled with his sensitive nature and interest in books over games made it most difficult for him to make friends with his peers. The child was sensitive almost to a fault. None of the children of his father’s acquaintances would come over to play with him unless they were forced to by their parents in the name of courtesy. Even then, those play sessions were awkward at best, and a plain social rejection at worst. Even so, Yoochun always assured her that he was fine and that the company of his piano and books were more than enough. But Mrs Park knew of the tears he shed at night in the solitude of his bedroom. One of her biggest regrets was to send his younger brother to live with relatives far away instead of growing up with his sibling; but it had to be done. Her son was a lonely boy, she knew. And the loneliness ate him worst at night, when he would be reminded of the debilitating asthma attacks he used to have in his younger years, coming alive again in nightmares that left him screaming. She used to keep him company in his bed, and he always pleaded tearfully for her to stay whenever she had to leave for functions in the night. And such functions took place so often since the Parks ran the biggest business empire in the whole country. Bless the poor child; the darkness scared him terribly.

But starting a few years ago, Yoochun had begun to reject her nightly company. She had returned with his father from one of their many month-long trips to the other end of the country and Yoochun was… different. He was still pale and had the occasional coughing fit; but he smiled brighter, laughed louder, and seemed more confident in himself. The servants were pleased with his more cheerful disposition too. He no longer required a companion in his bed to chase the nightly demons away. The only fault Mrs Park found was that he was more uncharacteristically lethargic in the day despite retiring to bed early in the night. But it was a flaw she was willing to ignore; her son seemed so much braver, so much happier now. Each night she thanked the heavens for answering her prayers to lessen her boy’s melancholy. As Yoochun slowly outgrew his childhood illness, his mind seemed to have gotten stronger as well. And for that, Mrs Park was eternally grateful to the heavens.


The moment Yoochun heard the familiar click of his room door securely closed, his eyes opened, glittering in the darkness with anticipation as he swiftly sat up.

“Junsu?” he called out into the black that enveloped him, his voice a little unsure, “are you here?”

“Of course I am,” came the slick reply, the vocal manifestation of liquid silk.

Yoochun turned his head left where he thought the source of the voice was, but was greeted with disappointment when he did not see the familiar figure his heart yearned for. The windowsill where his companion loved to sit at was empty. He frantically snapped his head right, still not finding what he was looking for. Almost panicking, he turned left again. This time, his face collided with a firm, cold chest.

“I’m all around you,” sinewy arms wrapped around Yoochun’s frail form in greeting and a kiss was planted on his crown fondly. “Always so eager to see me, aren’t you?”

Yoochun felt his body gave an involuntary shudder, the cold breath of his companion tickling his ear. The young boy returned the hug almost shyly, arms going round a thin but toned chest. The cold, skinny figure of his guest was far from what most people would consider comfortable, but Yoochun always felt so safe and wanted in these arms.

“I’ve missed you…” Yoochun confessed, feeling his cheeks heat up at the close proximity of their bodies snuggled together under the cloak of night.

Junsu made a teasing sound of disapproval with his tongue as he slowly pulled away, cupping his young friend’s chin to look at the boy properly. “I just saw you yesterday, sweet child.”

No matter how many times Yoochun laid eyes on Junsu’s face, he always felt his breath stolen away each time. Yoochun knew he was pale, his illness robbing his cheeks of colour; but Junsu was paler, much paler than was humanly possible to the extent that Yoochun swore his skin glowed in the darkness. Clad all in the silkiest black down to his painted nails, he was the personification of night itself. Soft, kohl-rimmed eyes always looked at him so kindly, and those plush lips were always whispering words of comfort to his ears or brushing tenderly against his face, his hands, or anywhere on Yoochun that Junsu deemed ‘lovely’. Which was, really, everywhere.

Although Junsu’s touches were cold, Yoochun felt his skin heat up beneath his dear friend’s caresses, leaning into the touches. The older man seemed particularly fond of the spot that covered Yoochun’s heart, always planting chaste kisses on his nightshirt when he had the chance. It was a move that always sent shudders down Yoochun’s spine to his toes. Yoochun had a birthmark right across his heart, an almost perfect crescent whose two ends touched that was two tones darker. It stood out in stark contrast against the pale expanse of his chest. It was almost as though someone had loved the image of the blossoming moon so much he had imprinted it on Yoochun’s skin, marking him as the night’s.

Yoochun had always felt self-conscious of the mark, shielding it away from his maids’ eyes and preferring to dress and bathe himself since he was old enough to do so. He had learnt to be embarrassed of it since young; his mother would look upon his birthmark with distaste whenever she laid eyes on it. He was always curious about its origins, but he never managed to gather his courage up to ask his parents or nurse about it. Although Yoochun had never bared himself to Junsu, the man’s lips always found their target. It was something that scared and amazed Yoochun to no end.

It was one of the many things about Junsu that scared and amazed Yoochun to no end.

Yoochun gave a delightful shiver at the press of soft lips against his chest and slim fingers running through his long bangs. It was a touch he wanted to lean into yet pull away from. “Yesterday is too long ago. You should be here all the time.”

“Getting demanding, are we?” Junsu lay down on Yoochun’s overstuffed pillows, settling the boy on his chest, drawing lazy patterns on the boy’s back with a slender finger.

“Night cannot come soon enough.”

“That sounds weird coming from you. Whatever happened to my little boy who was so afraid of the dark?” Junsu poked Yoochun’s side cheekily.

The boy scowled. “That was before you came along. Now I don’t want you to ever leave.”

“I’ve said before; I’m all around you, I’ve never really left. You know that, right?”

The graceful fingers trailing up and down his spine made Yoochun’s annoyance dissipate into the night air, thick and still with a brewing storm. “I know you are there. With me. I… feel you,” Yoochun sighed. “But why can’t you show yourself in the daytime? I want to show you to my parents and my governess-”

“You know why, sweet child,” Junsu’s voice turned icy, slender digits stopping in their motion and black nails digging almost painfully into tender flesh. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I?” he lifted Yoochun’s chin with his other hand, holding his gaze. “I am Night; I will not show myself in the presence of the sun. We each have our own places in this world, and I belong in the shadows. And you will most definitely not speak to me to anyone else; I am your secret to keep, Yoochun-ah. You wouldn’t want me to leave you, would you?”

“No! Of course not-” Yoochun shook his head profusely, but stilled with a firm press of Junsu’s finger to his lips. He froze. They both heard it – someone was outside the bedroom door.

The intruder slid the door open a crack, then seemed to have decided against it, quietly shutting the wood again before more than a silver of light from the hallway could touch the room’s carpeted floor. Yoochun heaved a sigh of relief, snuggling closer into Junsu’s inviting form. “I try… I try to retire for the night earlier so that I can meet you sooner, but I think… I think the servants are starting to suspect… If they tell mother…”

“Hush, sweet child; I know you try,” Junsu tucked the boy’s head fondly under his chin. “How could I not, when I am always watching you?”

“All I ask is to be with you sooner… is that too much to ask for? It isn’t fair that I spend most of my waking hours under the sun’s rays, when you refuse to appear. I just want to spend more time with you… I don’t want to have to always wait for the darkness to see you.” Yoochun’s tone was accusatory, yet still he curled into the other man, seeking comfort like a hurt animal.

“I am sorry, my dear boy. I am the Night; beyond sunset is my time. You do not want me around in the daytime, I assure you. But you feel me even in the sunlight, don’t you? I am all around you, Yoochun-ah.”

It was true. For as long as he could remember, Yoochun could always feel Junsu’s presence around him even if he could not see him. He was like Yoochun’s personal guardian angel, watching over him, silently giving him strength and support when the going got tough. Be it performing a challenging piano piece for guests or getting reprimanded by his father, he could feel Junsu beside him, giving him courage, fiercely defending him from his fears. And when Yoochun’s asthma acted up, he could feel Junsu’s hand holding his, riding out the attack until his breathing evened out. Junsu was there for his every teardrop and every smile.

It was odd really, how Yoochun grew up with the sensation of being watched. For a child who grew up mostly in solitude, he never felt truly alone. The invisible presence was a welcomed, soothing companion. He grew so used to that comforting presence that when he was gently roused from a particularly bad nightmare by a complete stranger sitting on his bed a few years ago; all it took was one moment for their eyes to meet and Yoochun flung himself on the astonished man. “It’s you,” he had whispered, tears of glee and relief rolling down his sunken cheeks. “I thought I was going crazy imagining your existence; but you’re real.” Then he let go of his tight grip to properly examine the man who had occupied his dreams when he was not plagued by nightmares.

And since then with his friend of the Night, Yoochun felt a little stronger, a lot braver, and infinitely happier. He was no longer alone; he had a friend. One who understood him and did not think him dull or weird and believed in him and kept the horrors of the night at bay.

“Don’t you?” Junsu’s cool voice washed over Yoochun’s head and brought him out of his train of thoughts. He was prompted to nod in agreement, albeit a little sourly. There was no way he could deny Junsu’s presence following him around in the shadows as he went about his daily chores.

“Now…” he drawled, “tell me about your day.”

Yoochun frowned, gazing up as his taller companion. “But why? You already know all about my day.”

Junsu gave a bark of laughter before leaning low to Yoochun’s left ear. “Do you really need to ask?” he grinned, evidently amused. “Because I like to hear you say it.”

Yoochun flushed, instantly breaking their eye contact and shyly looking away. He forced himself to train his eyes on a random spot on the ceiling than on Junsu’s handsome face so close to his, chiselled to perfection. He cleared his throat in a futile attempt to conceal his awkwardness.

And there they lay, snug and cosy under Yoochun’s covers as Yoochun told his tales and Junsu listened, indulging the boy with his merry laughter and amused eyes. Junsu could never seem to keep his wandering hands to himself as he listened, graceful fingers toying with Yoochun’s hair or hands. Many nights they have spent like this, just curled into each other, talking about everything and nothing at all.

In the confines of Yoochun’s bedchamber, Junsu used the darkness to turn it into his personal playground. In the safety of the blanket of blackness, Yoochun was free to let his imagination run wild, blabbering about all the thoughts that ran through his head, not afraid of being judged. In the darkness, he need not be the perfect scion of the influential Park family; he could just be Yoochun, a quiet boy of 12 – the Yoochun Junsu so adored.

With Junsu, he argued theories, discussed art history, duelled poetry and calligraphy. Junsu taught him poise and manners and grace, sharpening his mind as though to make up for what his body lacked. Before dawn broke, Junsu left him reading assignments and riddles to solve. Junsu was like his personal tutor, catering each nightly lesson to his interests.

But what Yoochun enjoyed the most was when they harmonised on the piano. Of course they could not sneak out to the ornate grand piano that took residence in the manor’s drawing room, but Junsu had forced Yoochun to improvise. Sitting the boy down at his mahogany desk, “play” Junsu had requested, and Yoochun could not find it in himself to refuse the man. And so he had closed his eyes, fingers drumming across the wooden table top and belting out the melody of his chosen piece. His music tutor never praised his voice, but Junsu seemed to love his singing, eyes shut and a smile on his lips as he swayed slightly to the music. Yoochun found his own childish squeaky voice awkward and embarrassing, but Junsu never seemed to mind.

Sometimes Junsu would join him for a duet piece, squeezing in beside Yoochun until there was barely a hair’s breadth between their thighs for Yoochun’s chair was simply not made for two. Yoochun often wondered if Junsu could feel his breath quicken just by how physically close they were. Their fingers would brush against each other’s whenever the keys they played were close, or sometimes Junsu would just let his fingers dance atop the back of Yoochun’s hand when they needed to play the same keys. Yoochun often wondered why Junsu did that. This was after all, their imaginary piano and it would not matter even if Junsu fingers fell ‘off’ the keys. But of course, the boy did not mind the gentle, playful contact of elegant hands. When Junsu needed to play keys on Yoochun’s right, he would extend one arm around the boy’s back, chest leaning in slightly into Yoochun’s body, head almost resting on Yoochun’s left shoulder, breathing in his scent. Yoochun’s heart would pound so hard during these moments he was sure Junsu could hear it. He hoped Junsu never noticed the slight falter in his rhythm at such times. Even if the man had noticed that something was amiss, he made no mention of it.

And when Junsu sang the accompaniment to Yoochun’s melody, the boy felt as though the whole world stilled for them and the night was theirs. Yoochun shyly thought their voices blended so well. Junsu sang beautifully, oh so beautifully, and Yoochun could hear nothing but Junsu’s voice. He often found himself lost in that rich tenor, feeling the stress of the day melt away from his shoulders, letting his heart and mind sink into a peaceful stillness. “The voice of angels”, he had once told Junsu, but the other man had seemed amused by the compliment, breaking into laughter and saying “Silly child. Those wretched beings have got nothing on me”. Yoochun remember blushing and looking away, feeling stupid; but Junsu had stooped over and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Thank you”, he kissed his cheek.

Any suggestion of a duet from Junsu’s lips would have Yoochun begging his tutor to procure the music for him the next day. He practiced almost feverishly to perfect those pieces, or anything Junsu ever asked of him. He wanted so much to impress his only friend, to please him. Whatever Junsu wanted, whatever the man liked about him, Yoochun wanted to perfect. The boy had always been eager to please. He knew he did not need to; unlike his father, Junsu never demanded anything of him; but he wanted to.

The stars almost burning out, Yoochun felt tears stinging his eyes as he stifled yet another yawn, praying Junsu would not notice. It was in vain, nothing seemed to escape Junsu’s watchful eyes.

“Daybreak is almost upon us. Rest your eyes, my child.”

Yoochun shook his head stubbornly, “I’m not sleepy.” But his body betrayed him as he shook with another suppressed yawn.

Junsu chuckled, slipping out from under the covers and tucking the boy in despite his protests. “Sleep,” he tapped Yoochun’s nose with a finger, “you have another long day ahead. You’ll need your strength.”

Yoochun wrinkled his nose and scowled. “I don’t want to. I hate it when I wake up and you’re not beside me. I hate that you slip away the moment the sky gets bright. Please slow down the sunrise; I know you can. Night isn’t long enough and the day drags on forever. I hate pretending to the world that you don’t exist when the sun is in the sky. I want to be with you; I will not sleep.”

Junsu gasped in mock horror. “Surely you know better than that, my sweet child?” A smiled parted his lips as he beamed fondly at the wilful boy fighting a losing battle with slumber. “I am Night, and I will certainly come to you at the day’s end. Always. Surely you can bear a few hours until I come again, my brave boy?”

Before Yoochun could utter another word of protest, Junsu kissed him on tired eyes, draining away the last of his consciousness. Junsu cradled the small face in his arms, thumbs running across deep eyebags almost heartbrokenly, feeling a tinge of regret in him.

Only because Junsu relented, daylight started to break through the remnants of night, framing Junsu with an ethereal glow as he stood watching his young charge sleep. His back against the open window, the man almost looked like he had descended from the heavens to guard his child.

“You are mine, Yoochun-ah. And soon you will be with me. Always.”


“Hello, my sweet child.”

Yoochun jumped, spinning around so suddenly that the shirt in his hand fell forgotten to the parquet floor. He blinked for a good few seconds, staring at his uninvited guest who was seated comfortably on his windowsill, one leg bent at the knee and the other dangling freely. “I’m not a child” he scowled after asserting that he was not imagining things. Then, more urgently, he marched over to the window and placed each hand on either side of the other man’s hips. “What are you doing here?”

Junsu examined his painted nails for a moment longer before lazily turning to face Yoochun. “Haven’t you always wanted to see me in the day, sweet child?”

A shudder ran down Yoochun’s spine as he backed away a little unsteadily. Junsu’s gaze was cold and intense, yet endearing. There was an anger bubbling just beneath the cool exterior, Yoochun could sense it. He was afraid of it.

With the grace of a feline Junsu leapt down from his seat, the sun behind him causing his skin to appear almost translucent. Yoochun could not help but gape. In night, the man was an extension of the darkness, slick and mysterious. Under the sun, his dark sensuality seemed out of place, as though he came from another world. Junsu basking in daylight was a sight to behold. He looked not a day older than when Yoochun first met him all those years ago. He was still decked in those flowing black robes he so adored, but without the cloak of night to conceal his features, Junsu’s beauty shone. Sunlight caught and reflected off his skin, highlighting high cheekbones and a defined jaw. Smouldering kohl-rimmed eyes saw through Yoochun’s soul. With every calculated step he took towards Yoochun, the younger man’s eyes could not help but be drawn to the slender figure and every sway of his contrastingly full hips.

Yoochun gulped, having unwittingly backed himself up against a wall. Junsu’s face was carved by angels, but his body was sin itself.

“My lovely boy is planning to leave the country this afternoon; you think I would just stand aside and do nothing?” there was a dangerous drop in Junsu’s tone, a swirling whirlpool that dragged one in once one was caught. Yoochun felt trapped under that intense gaze.

It took a while for him to find his tongue, and to his dismay, he found it dry. “It wasn’t my decision! It was my parents’! They suddenly decided to send me away and ordered me to pack. They said I must leave before my birthday. I don’t want to leave, I told them so. But they wouldn’t hear of it! I would never want to leave you –”

He was silenced by a firm press of a finger to his lips. Junsu was barely an inch away from him now, their chests touching. Just being this physically close to the other man had Yoochun’s heart into overdrive. Junsu had that effect on him. He always had.

“I know, Yoochun-ah,” he whispered, eyes following the hand that had absentmindedly ran down the length of Yoochun’s torso, then rising to stop over the birthmark on his chest. The young boy had filled out nicely, a lean figure encasing sinewy muscles compared to Junsu’s still skinny frame. A week shy of 18, he was slightly taller than Junsu now, but his skin retained that pale pallor from his childhood battles. When Junsu’s eyes met Yoochun’s again, they were gentle, almost sad. “I know. I’ve watched you from the day you were born; I’ve spent every night of the past 8 years by your side; I know you. You would never betray me, wouldn’t you, my Yoochun-ah? You would never leave me.” He leaned in, tracing the outline of Yoochun’s face with a finger. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

Yoochun had forgotten how to breathe and he stared entranced by Junsu’s eyes. But air came rudely rushing back to his lungs when he heard a shrill scream. Both their heads snapped to its source.

“Mother!” Yoochun spluttered, eyes widening as his mother’s hands flew over her mouth as she registered Junsu’s presence.

Yoochun’s eyes darted back and forth between Junsu and his mother, wondering how they would react to each other. His shock numbed his mind, unable to come up with any explanation for how another grown man could be in his room without anyone else noticing. Junsu on the other hand seemed unfazed by having being found out. A knowing smirk played on his lips as he sashayed towards the hysterical woman.

You!” she spat out, pointing an accusing finger at Junsu as she backed away from the advancing man. Her arm was shaking so badly she could barely keep it raised.

“Hello, Jiyeon. It’s been a long time,” Junsu greeted politely, a feral grin on his pale face.

Yoochun’s father came rushing in, an entourage of servants at his heels. However, upon noticing Junsu, he hastily slammed the bedroom door shut before any of them could follow him in. Hurriedly he flung himself between his wife and Junsu with arms outstretched, as though that could protect her from the latter.

“Tod,” he nodded curtly in acknowledgement, as though afraid to even mention the name. It was easy to see that his calm appearance was but a farce. The man had gone as white as sheet.

“Ah, Seunghyun. Nice to see you again. I hope you both have not forgotten me. I was starting to get worried, considering how the lovely missus has always been thanking the heavens for making her son better. As you two probably know, I’m far from it. But I shall be gracious and say ‘you’re welcome’,” Junsu faked an elegant bow.

“What are you doing here?” Mr Park ignored him, “You’re going against our agreement.”

Junsu visibly bristled, any hint of playfulness completely gone. Park Jiyeon let out another scream, clutching her husband’s shoulders with her head ducked, not even daring to look at Junsu as he advanced towards them. “I broke our agreement?” he hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. “I think we both know who’s guilty of breaking our deal. His soul is mine. He was promised to me but now you want to take him away. You. Betrayed. Me.” he spat the last three words out as though each was venom burning his throat.

“You… you know each other?” Yoochun’s shaky voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a sharp blade, drawing the attention of the three adults to him. Eyes bewildered, he took slow, uncertain steps towards them. A thousand answered questions were evident in his wide eyes. “What else are you hiding from me?”

Junsu smirked, a playful glint in his calculated eyes as he turned away from the parents and towards the young man. “Hiding from you? Lots. Where shall we begin?” he slowly made his way towards Yoochun who seemed unable to make another step towards either of them. “19 years ago Park Seunghyun and Park Jiyeon sought me out. They wanted to be rich and successful and live lavish lives. They were willing to give up anything for it. Anything. Even their first-born.” Junsu paused, taking delight in watching every flicker of emotion pass through Yoochun’s pale face. “They were supposed to give him to me when he turned 18, but… seeing how they’ve made you pack,” he waved one hand dismissively at the open suitcases lying in disarray around the room, “they seem to have decided to betray me.”

“That’s not true! Yoochun dear, don’t listen to him!” Mrs Park called out from behind her husband, but she was too afraid to do anything more to reach for her child. “He’s got secrets of his own; don’t trust him!”

Yoochun’s eyes shifted from his mother to the man before him then back to her again, unsure of what to let himself believe. Junsu now stood so close to Yoochun, they were breathing each other’s air.

“Oh I think I might have forgotten to tell you,” Junsu cupped Yoochun’s chin with one hand and turned it gently so he filled Yoochun’s entire line of sight. Lips so close to Yoochun’s they touched lightly, he let out a breathy whisper. “For you I am Junsu; but to the world I am Tod – I am Death.”

Yoochun took a wide step back, filching from the touch as though burned. He backed away from Junsu, but not any closer towards his parents. He did not miss the look of abject disappointment marring Junsu’s features, but his legs were keen on getting him as far away from the man as possible.

“You have been marked by Death, Yoochun-ah,” Junsu said solemnly. “No matter how you try to hide it, I will always find what has been marked mine.”

Something in Yoochun’s mind clicked, his right hand instinctively reaching up to rub at the crescent over his heart. That was no birthmark. He understood now, why Junsu always knew where the mark was, because he had put it there – the mark of Death, marking him as a child of the Night.

“No Yoochunnie, listen to me; we’ll never give you up,” with the distance Yoochun placed between himself and Junsu, Mrs Park seemed braver, stretching a hand out towards him. “Come here my son. We love you; we will never think of giving you away, especially to the likes of him. Don’t listen to him.”

“Oh really?” Junsu challenged, the anger Yoochun had sensed in him earlier now bursting through the surface like a broken dam. “Never thought of giving Yoochun away? That was not what happened when we first met 19 years ago. Tell me why then, did you both try so desperately for a second child? Tell me why did you send Yoohwan to live with relatives far away if not for the fear that I would get to him too? You took him away from Yoochun to be groomed to inherit your business, spending months with him and neglecting my boy. You knew how much Yoochun loves his brother, yet you separated them and let my poor child grow up alone and heartbroken. If you never thought that I would come to claim him, why did you deliberately be emotionally detached from Yoochun if not to spare you the heartache when I take him away? Why then, are you forcing him to pack and go into hiding now if you have not thought of giving him up?”

By then Park Jiyeon was a sobbing mess on the floor, one hand still outstretched towards her elder son, but her face was buried in the plush carpet. “Mother. Mother!” her head turned sharply to look at her son, his eyes wide and red and wild and angry. His clenched fists shook uncontrollably by his sides. “Tell me, is it true? Tell me!

She filched, never having witnessed Yoochun in a temperament before. “Yoochun, love, you must understand; I would never…” her voice broke into choked sobs as she hid her face away from him again. “I never…”

Lies!” Junsu hissed, feline eyes flashing like lightning. Outside, the sky was turning to night uncharacteristically early. The darkness seeped into the room, snuffing out any warmth of the last traces of daylight as it extended its long fingers across the walls, stretching its reach until all the occupants of the room were shrouded in the hallmark of Tod’s realm. “You have all but given up hope on Yoochun’s future in favour of his brother. You let what is mine grow up so helpless and lonely; then try to hide him from me. And even now, you still refuse to admit to Yoochun what you have done; that you’ve sacrificed his life to benefit yours. Insolent humans!”

Junsu took quick strides towards where Mrs Park lay crumpled on the floor, her face twisted in agony as she struggled to breathe. Park Seunghyun was at a loss, trying futilely to ease the invisible force causing her pain. Her eyes wide but not seeing, she let out a blood-curling scream and turned deathly white, seeing something her husband could not.

“Junsu! Stop, please! Junsu!

Just by that voice, Junsu snapped out of his wild state, eyes turning soft as he watched Yoochun stagger over, stance hunched and defeated. Mr Park heaved an audible sigh of relief as his wife’s breathing eased. He cradled her weak body in his arms, muttering words of comfort to her.

“Yoochu-ah,” Junsu called out gently, almost heartbrokenly. He reached for him – an invitation. “Come with me,” his voice was clear and tender, “I won’t take you by force. Come to me.”

“No…” came a breathy whisper. “No… it’s not time yet. Yoochun does not turn 18 until next week… You promised…” Weakly, Mrs Park tried to reach out to her son with a feeble hand.

I was not the one who tried to break our agreement,” Junsu narrowed his eyes coldly, barely sparing Jiyeon a dismissive look before turning his full attention back to Yoochun.

“Yoochun-ah, come with me. Didn’t you always say you want to be with me? Now you can be with me always. Night will be eternal; daylight will never interfere with us. You can be anything you want; you’ll never have to hide who you are. And I’ll never have to slip away when the night ends. Nothing will be able to separate us. Forever.”

With much effort, Yoochun raised his head to look at his only friend. His eyes searched Junsu’s face, though he was not sure what he was looking for. “Junsu, I…” he stretched out his hand to grasp Junsu’s inviting counterpart, their fingers brushing against each others’ in an intimate dance.

“Yoochun, no!” Jiyeon struggled in her husband’s arms. “Tell him,” she shook her husband desperately, urging him to aid her battle, “tell him we want him; we love him.”

Seunghyun, who had resolutely avoided looking at his son since he stepped in, fought to subdue his wife’s trashes. “Stop it, Jiyeon. He’s not worth it. That boy is unclean.”

Park Jiyeon stilled, staring at her husband. Her mouth gaped like a fish, unable to find her voice. The words that he had kept to himself for 18 years hung heavy in the air, amplified by the unfeeling darkness.

Yoochun froze in his movement, staring at his parents, comprehending what his life meant. The grief and betrayal in his heart translated into hot tears that burned down his face, blurring his vision, as though protecting him from the sight that pained his heart.

“Yoochun-ah.” A gentle voice coaxed him out of his throbbing thoughts. “Yoochun-ah.”

He turned towards the inviting voice, blinking to let the tears out of his eyes. Slender digits played with his fingers and Yoochun gripped onto them firmly for support, like he always had done for the past 8 years.

“Come with me, Yoochun-ah. We’ll be together forever.”

Yoochun closed the remaining distance that separated them, his eyes seeing nothing but Junsu. It was hard not to notice Junsu’s glee as he reached out to lovingly trace the crescent marking Yoochun as his. “I love you, my sweet child.”

And Junsu stooped over to claim what was rightfully his with a firm press of lips on lips.


*master fic list

A/N: Daylight lyrics by Adam Levine, Max Martin, SAMM, and MdL.

My first Yoosu, hope it's not too OOC. (^^;;)

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Tags: length: oneshot, pairing: yoosu, series: daylight

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