"Jesus, Tae. Is he alive?"

"Yes. He just fell asleep."

"What did you do to him?"

"I kissed him. It was just a kiss." There was a brief silence, then: "I swear!"

Another silence. "Maybe by accident?"

A sigh. "Maybe. But, I mean...what about you?"

"What about me?" Ella's voice was tinged with nervousness.

"You were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after your little dinner date."

There was another, heavier sigh. "That was by accident. I...it's not even time!"

"I know. I don't understand, either." Taemin sounded disturbed. 

"So what do we do?"

"I'll take care of it. He'll be fine."

Ella growled in frustration. "We need to be careful, Taeminie." Her voice had turned pleading. "Especially after last night."

"You think I don't know that?" His tone was flat. "This isn't my first time, El."

Someone sighed. The door creaked.

"You shouldn't act like you know what you're doing if you don't."

"And you should know better than to get attached."

Ella made a hissing sound. "He's not in my bed, Taemin." 

The door clicked shut. 

                                                                                       )~~O~~(

Con drifted in the foggy nothingness between sleeping and waking. Everything was a perfect state of comfort—that almost-impossible sensation that sometimes happened on lazy Sunday mornings. It felt like he was floating just above the mattress, no uncomfortable pressure points hurting him. His body was the perfect temperature, the pillow soft beneath his cheek.

He lay there for a long time with eyes closed, basking in the sheer pleasantness of the moment. Still a little sleepy, he allowed his eyelids to flutter open. He stared across his room, a gentle frown tugging at his lips. Something was wrong.

Letting his eyes slip closed, he took a deep breath, pushing it out slowly through his nose. It couldn't hurt to just lay here a few more moments.

His eyes popped open and he flung himself upright.

This wasn't his room. Con squinted against the sunlight streaming through two windows instead of one. The walls were rose, not deep green. And he...wasn't the only one in the bed.

Con looked over his shoulder to find a tousle-headed Taemin watching him. Round, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and a book rested in his lap. He offered a small smile and reached for something on the bedside table.

The smell hit first, making Con's mouth water. Unable to resist the lure of caffeine, Con accepted the nearly-empty cup of coffee. He took a sip, immediately wrinkling his nose against the copious amounts of sugar and cream. Grimacing, he handed the cup back. "Sweet."

Taemin rolled his eyes. "You're just like Ella. Both of you possess dead tastebuds."

"If I want something sweet, I'll eat some candy. Coffee should taste like coffee."

In plain disagreement, Taemin lifted the cup to his lips. He tipped his head back, downing the cup's contents and returning it to the table. Con watched in fascination as his tongue flicked out, catching a drop of coffee at the corner of his mouth.

With his bedhead and glasses, Taemin was ridiculously, stupidly cute. 

"What time is it?" Con asked, annoyed by the track his thoughts were taking.

Taemin glanced at his phone. "Nearly eleven."

"Jesus." Con fell back onto the pillows, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He dropped his arms, frowning up at the ceiling. "I've been here three days and all I've done is sleep."

Taemin leaned over, peering down at him. His glasses slipped, and Con resisted the urge to push them back up for him. "Do you feel sick? Achy? Shivery?"

Blinking, Con slowly shook his head. "No. Actually, I..." He frowned. "I feel pretty good."

Even the pain around his knee and in his wrist had receded a little. It was still there, but not nearly as bad as it had felt yesterday.

Taemin smiled and shoved his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Con slowly sat up. The other man moved with him, his face staying just inches from Con's.

"Can I try something?" Taemin asked.

"Um...what?" A thrill rippled through his body, though if it was desire or unease, he couldn't tell.

"Just..." Taemin's long fingers lightly gripped his chin. "Trust me."

Con's eyes closed without his permission as Taemin drew him into a kiss. It was light at first. Lips brushing lips, Taemin pulling away for the briefest moments between each kiss. He tasted just as sweet as his coffee, and Con was suddenly self-conscious that he hadn't brushed his teeth. 

Taemin let out a soft, thoughtful hum moments before he slid into Con's lap. His fingers buried themselves in Con's hair as he tilted his head to get a better angle. One of Con's hands held Taemin's arm, just above the elbow. The other pressed into the small of his back. A sound like a purr came from deep in Taemin's throat, buzzing against Con's mouth.

Slowly, Con sank back onto the mattress, pulling Taemin with him. His hand slid under Taemin's shirt, fingers gliding over smooth skin.

Then, Taemin pulled away and rolled off of Con. He spat a curse and lurched upright, feeling almost drunk. Energy sparked in his chest and his lungs worked double-time. 

Taemin stood a few feet away, skin pale, his breath as fast as Con's. His throat bobbed and he rasped, "I think we just need to be careful."

We need to be careful, Taeminie.

The words floated through his head. Something he had dreamed?

"C-Careful?" Con stuttered, raking his hands through his hair. "Careful?" He leapt from the bed, a sudden spike of adrenaline flooding him. He stalked toward Taemin, who backed cautiously around to the other side of the bed.

His eyes widened as Con lunged forward, tackling him to the mattress.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" Fury blazed red-hot behind Con's eyes. Taemin couldn't do that—couldn't just touch him like that and then say they needed to be careful. The adrenaline in his chest turned to a flood of anger and frustration, and he pressed Taemin harder into the mattress.

Taemin's lips slid back, baring teeth in a sudden snarl. His hips bucked up. He grabbed one of Con's arms, his bicep pressing against the side of Con's ribcage as he rolled them. 

Tearing his glasses off, he tossed them aside. Con took his distraction as an opportunity to drive a fist into Taemin's side, aiming for a kidney. He choked on a gasp, and Con hit him again. Claustrophobia clawed at his throat, the sensation that he was in sudden, mortal danger hitting him like a baseball bat to the head.

Feeding his fear, his mind conjured bright gold eyes and fangs. Taemin's nails turned to black claws, his ears growing pointed and furred.

"Fuck," Con spat, struggling desperately. "Get off. Right now."

Instead, Taemin grabbed Con's wrist, sinking his weight forward to pin him. "Stop hitting me," he snarled, voice vicious and inhuman to Con's writhing mind.

Panic set in fully. His madness grabbed hold, morphing Taemin into a full-blown monster.

Con bucked and twisted, striking any part of Taemin he could reach. Somehow, he sent them crashing to the ground, and he managed to smash his elbow against Taemin's temple. The blow stunned him enough to loosen his grip. Con scrabbled to his feet.

An animalistic snarl ripped from Taemin as he rose to a crouch. Several tails lashed the air behind him as he launched himself at Con. He spun sideways to avoid the leap, settling into a fighting stance, fists raised in front of him. Fury twisted Taemin's face and he advanced with the hunting gait of a predator.

Then, his eyes went wide. Realization washed over his face.

"Oh," he said faintly, eyes darting around Con. He took in a shaky breath and raised his hands in defeat.

Trembling, Con watched as Taemin retreated to the other side of the room. It left a path to the door wide open, giving Con the chance to escape. 

When Con stayed locked in place, Taemin swept a hand toward the door. "It's okay," he breathed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Con."

Shadows surged at the edges of the room, bathing everything in a nasty, black goo that smelled of rotted meat. Taemin sank to his knees, clearly panicking as he raked his hands through his hair. He rocked back and forth slightly, pain so evident on his face it caused a stutter in the mad race of Con's thoughts.

It was just enough for him to wrench back some control. His legs wobbled and he fell, landing awkwardly. The black goo evaporated. Pain raced from his elbow up his arm and took residence in his collarbone, radiating up the side of his neck.

Taemin was speaking in Korean now. The same word over and over. "Joesonghamnida."

Con lay there on the floor and closed his eyes. Something about the flow of Taemin's mother tongue soothed his overwrought nerves. It calmed his heart and allowed him to breath normally. 

"I'm sorry," Taemin rasped, the English jarring. Con opened his eyes to find Taemin pale as milk, his hands trembling where they rested in his lap. "I'm sorry. I should have let you go."

He didn't try to defend himself. Didn't say he'd been afraid Con would hurt himself or someone else. He didn't try to justify it. He simply apologized, bowing his head until Con could see the vulnerable back of his neck.

Slowly, he pressed himself up into a sitting position, crossing his legs beneath him. Guilt raced through him. Energy still popped inside him, like lightning bolts sparking between his muscles.

"I hate this," he gritted out. "I fucking hate this." He stared at Taemin—a perfectly human Taemin—and swore viciously.

It had been a long time since he'd had an episode as bad as that. Six months, to be precise. Six months since a delusion had been so terrifying, Con had felt compelled to fight for his life. The ache in his collarbone grew worse, responding to the memory.

Anger and frustration still seethed inside of him. His thoughts still scrambled, adrenaline making everything too bright and loud.

What the hell was happening to him? Why had he lost control like that?

Taemin kept his head bowed. Con got to his feet and strode across the room. Grabbing his arms roughly, he hauled Taemin to his feet and shook him. His head stayed down.

"Why did you have to start this?" Con demanded. "Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

Silently, Taemin shook his head. Con's grip on him tightened, then relaxed. He rested his forehead against Taemin's shoulder, breathing deeply. 

"I don't want to see you for twenty-four hours," Con said.

Taemin didn't protest. He just gave a short nod.

Before he could weaken and change his mind, Con pulled away. Not looking at Taemin, he picked up his shoes and coat before all but running out the door. He bolted to his room, struggling to yank the key free of his coat pocket.

When he made it inside, he slammed the door shut and slid down the wood. He shook like a detoxing junkie, every nerve snapping, forcing him into motion. He couldn't sit still.

But just as he was about to stand, a knock sounded on his door.

Three knocks, each echoing in Con's head.

"Joesanghamnida" is a formal version of "I'm sorry". It's also romanized, which is kind of hard to do, so I apologize if this isn't the correct translation of the sounds. Hangul doesn't always translate nicely to English letters, lol.