“so how many souls have you harvested so far?” daehyun grins mischievously, nimbly springing out of the way in a graceful arc as an agitated junhong smites down with his jagged scythe.

the blade swipes down through the space daehyun had previously occupied, razor-sharp tip shattering through the endless expanse of rocky surface that stretches on as far as the eyes can see in the everlasting underworld.

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junhong’s teeth burn like he’s chewing on a mouth full of razors, and his muscles itch with excess energy that refuses to let up no matter how many rounds he makes around the perimeter of the entire forest.

“it’s because you’re still adjusting,” yifan tells junhong when the newly changed pup comes barreling into his tent, a long list of complaints spilling from his lips in a nonstop stream of words and whines.

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it had all started with a single word.

a simple two letter word that youngjae had tossed in jest, something to amuse babyz because they expect youngjae to say of fucking course daehyun is his best friend. why would anyone even feel the need to ask that question in the first place to confirm a fact that should’ve been quite obvious to any and everyone who has eyes to see and ears to hear?

right. so youngjae had said it, and hadn’t meant anything by it.

it was supposed to be funny.

but daehyun hadn’t laughed.

daehyun had merely shot him a flat smile over his borrowed yongguk’s ipad, quickly glancing back down to swipe through the numerous influx of tweets with their 1004 hash tag, filtering through the jumbled mess for his personal twitter account tagged on the messages and valiantly evading youngjae’s questioning gaze.

youngjae really hadn’t thought anything of it, didn’t think daehyun would actually take it to heart and spend the next few weeks ignoring him and actually taking circuitous means to go so far as to avoid even being in the same room as him.

yeah, totally hadn’t counted on that to happen.

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himchan grunts as kris slams his body rough and hard against the grimy motel wall, dragging his neatly trimmed nails up kris’ toned, muscular arms. he bares his sharp fangs, hissing as he gently nibbles the soft flesh just below kris’ ear, hard enough to sting but not enough to break skin.

because himchan’s teeth are venomous, containing enough toxins to have kris flat on his back and writhing in pain until the dark angels of death come floating down with caressing fingers, dragging him down into the eternal emptiness of the afterlife.

and no, himchan doesn’t want that.

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there are times when junhong is on top of the stage, even after two whole years had passed, and he is still thoroughly bewildered by the sea of screaming and chanting faces, utterly in awe of the amazing love and dedication he feels pouring in from the crowds below. and junhong is left winded and speechless.

b.a.p, 방용국!

there are also times when junhong feels the pressures and expectations to live up to the adoration of their fans, an enormous sack of bricks and boulders weighing down heavily on his shoulders. so much to the point that he lives in constant fear of tripping up, making a mistake, and disappointing the world, revealing that he’s not exactly all that they think he is. just some average kid, with average skills, who got lucky enough to win a few minutes in the limelight.

b.a.p, 김힘찬!

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junhong quickly snatches himchan’s americano with the stealth of a ninja, taking a tiny sip of the iced beverage before shoving it back into place in himchan’s expectant hand.

“ugh, hyung, how do you drink that stuff?” junhong winces, sticking out his tongue and making to grab for daehyun’s banana nut muffin to wash down the bitter aftertaste. but daehyun reacts a second faster than junhong can reach, cramming the remaining two-thirds of the pastry into his mouth.

junhong glares at his hyung, mouthing ‘pig,’ as daehyun smirks through his ballooned cheeks, wagging his finger condescendingly at the disgruntled maknae.

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