Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13922547.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      EXO_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Huang_Zi_Tao_|_Z.Tao/Kim_Jongdae_|_Chen
  Character:
      Huang_Zi_Tao_|_Z.Tao, Kim_Jongdae_|_Chen, Do_Kyungsoo_|_D.O, Amber_Liu,
      Park_Chanyeol, Zhang_Yi_Xing_|_Lay
  Additional Tags:
      not_super_graphic_but_yeah, Minor_Character_Death, Gore, Demons,
      Immorality
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-10 Words: 15402
****** Heartless ******
by owarijanai
Summary
     Jongdae was dangerous, that much was sure. Just being around him gave
     Zitao a thrill.
     And he loved it.
Notes
     Heavily inspired/based off of Danielle Vega's novel The Merciless.
     Disclaimer:
     I do not condone/agree with underage drinking, sex, or smoking,
     I am merely using them in this fic to help with my portrayal of the
     characters.
 

Zitao’s locker was stuck.
It’s always something, he thought sadly, tugging at the latch even though he
knew it was useless. He’d input the right code, but the door still wasn’t
opening. It just sat there. Zitao felt like it was mocking him. With a sigh, he
gave up and decided he’d just have to find one of the school’s staff and tell
them that his locker was messed up.
“Need help with that?”
Zitao turned, surprised. An unfamiliar guy was standing there. He was a bit
shorter than Zitao, with styled black hair and lips like a recurve bow, and the
color red seemed to dominate his wardrobe from his bright red pants to his red-
and-black tee. The lines in his face were all perfectly symmetrical, aligned in
a way that made his dark, slanted eyes look even more fierce as he leveled a
wicked grin at Zitao. 
He was beautiful.
Zitao swallowed thickly and tried not to stare.
“Hello?” the newcomer asked, emphasizing the word with an exaggerated wave of
his hand. “Anyone home in there?”
Zitao blinked and recoiled. “Yeah, sorry. I just ... um ... hi.”
“Hi. Do you need help?”
“... Help?”
“Your locker. It’s stuck, right?”
Zitao glanced at it, frowning. “Yeah, it is. But how can you help me?”
“I have my ways.” The guy stepped forward and grabbed at the latch of Zitao’s
locker. Zitao moved to stop him, to tell him that he’d already tried that and
it was no use, but then the locker door swung open like it had never been stuck
at all and the words died in Zitao’s throat.
 “How did you do that?” he asked instead.
“Like I said, I have my ways. Oh, yeah, my name’s Jongdae, by the way. Kim
Jongdae.” 
Light glinted off the trail of silver piercings that arced their way up
Jongdae’s right ear. Zitao hadn’t noticed them before, but they just added to
Jongdae’s overall appearance, giving him an odd, dangerous aura that drew Zitao
closer and pushed him away all at once.
“Huang Zitao.”
“Nice to meet you.”
The bell rang and Jongdae sighed, running his fingers through his hair. It
still looked perfect even now that it was mussed. “Ah, I have to go to class.
When do you have lunch?”
“Um, third period.”
“Me too! Sit with me?”
Zitao blinked and nodded. “Uh, sure.”
“Awesome. I’ll see you in the cafeteria then.”
Jongdae left, still grinning, and Zitao stared at his retreating figure. He
wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but he’d made a friend. Somehow.
That definitely wasn’t normal. Most of the time when Zitao changed schools, it
took weeks for him to even come close to making any friends. Now it was his
first day and he already had someone to sit with.
Zitao smiled and shouldered his backpack. It was a little sudden, but he wasn’t
complaining.
He spent the rest of his class period thinking about Jongdae’s grin and the
curve of his jawline. By the time the bell rang, he jumped up and out of his
seat before anyone else and sped from the classroom. He hadn’t been this
excited to go to lunch in a cafeteria in a long time, but Jongdae seemed so
interesting and Zitao hadn’t had a real friend in a long time.
Also, Jongdae was kind of extremely hot.
Zitao didn’t even pay attention to the food he was given as he got a tray and
moved out of the line. His eyes scanned the crowded cafeteria, searching for
Jongdae, but there were so many people that it was impossible to pinpoint
anyone among the gathering of students. Even with Jongdae’s bright clothes,
Zitao doubted he’d ever find him.
“Zitao!”
Turning at the sound of his name, Zitao saw Jongdae sitting at a small table
with two others—a guy and a girl. Jongdae was motioning him over. Relieved that
he wasn’t going to have to sit alone after all, Zitao approached them without
delay and sat down next to Jongdae.
“Hey,” Jongdae said with a grin. “Let me introduce you to the two other members
of my illustrious group of friends: the guy who looks like he wants to commit
mass murder is Kyungsoo, and the girl who looks ready to kick anyone’s ass is
Amber.”
Zitao nodded at them. “Hey.”
Amber’s face split into a wide grin. “Aw, Jongdae, you forgot to mention that
he was hot.”
“Must’ve slipped my mind.”
Zitao blinked. “Um, what?”
“Oh don’t tell me you’re not aware.” Amber leaned over the table and grabbed at
Zitao’s chin, tracing the line of it. The pads of her fingers were rough.
“You’re extremely hot. I’d fuck you in a heartbeat.”
Zitao spluttered and pulled away, his face going red.
Jongdae laughed. “Come on, Amber. Don’t scare the poor kid away on his first
day.”
“Alright, alright. Sorry.” 
Amber leaned back, for which Zitao was grateful. Kyungsoo hadn’t said anything
yet. Jongdae was right when he’d said he looked like he wanted to commit mass
murder. The dark look in his eyes had Zitao feeling on-edge, and he avoided
catching Kyungsoo’s gaze to the best of his abilities, focusing instead on
Jongdae as he ranted about his day.
Amber finished eating first and said she wanted to go have a smoke before her
next class. She got up to leave and Kyungsoo followed, trailing after her like
a puppy. Zitao watched them go.
“You’re friends are interesting,” he said.
Jongdae smiled. “Yeah, I know. Soo and Amber are a bit weird.”
“A bit?”
“Okay, a lot weird. They have some kind of friends with benefits relationship
going on that I don’t get, but I’m not about to complain. I’m all for that kind
of stuff; it lessens drama among friend groups, you know?”
Zitao nodded, even though he really didn’t know. But he could imagine. If no
one was tied down to each other, if they were all just free to do as they
pleased with whomever they pleased, then no one would have to worry about
jealousy or hurt feelings or any of that shit that abounded so often in high
school.
 “Besides,” Jongdae continued, tugging at the single silver stud on his left
ear, “I always thought it was stupid when people got into serious relationships
in high school. I mean, it’s fucking high school. When we graduate, no one’s
going to care who dated whom or whether or not you fucked.”
“That’s true,” Zitao agreed, and Jongdae smiled at him.
“Hey, I have an appointment after school. Want to tag along?”
“... An appointment?”
“Yeah. Sort of. I’d like to go with someone, but Amber and Soo are busy. They
always are. Would you like to come?”
Zitao hesitated. He knew his mother probably expected him to get home right
after school, but as long as he called her and let her know he was going out
with a friend, he doubted she’d care. Besides, Zitao couldn’t remember the last
time he’d been invited out anywhere. “Sure,” he said.
“Awesome. Meet me outside the school’s front entrance when you get out of
class. I’ll wait up for you.”
“Okay.”
Jongdae left and Zitao lingered at the table for a few moments, trying to
figure out how he’d gone from being the lonely new kid to getting invited to
hang out with someone like Jongdae—Jongdae, with his tight pants and curved
smirk. Jongdae, with his abundance of piercings and dark, smoky eyes. Jongdae,
with his weird friends and threatening aura.
Zitao glanced down at his hands, attempting to ignore the heat gathering in the
pit of his stomach. Jongdae was dangerous, that much was sure. Just being
around him gave Zitao a thrill.
And he loved it.
It wasn’t until Zitao left the cafeteria that he realized he hadn’t asked
Jongdae what kind of appointment he was going to, but he just couldn’t find it
in himself to care.
 
 
Jongdae was waiting just outside the school, as promised. He had a black
cigarette dangling from his lips. Despite the disapproving looks from students
and teachers alike, no one said anything. They cut a wide berth around Jongdae,
avoiding him completely, and Zitao couldn’t help but wonder if he should do the
same. 
“Hey,” Jongdae said upon noticing him, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You done?”
“Yeah.”
“Awesome. Let’s go.”
Zitao clenched the straps of his backpack and followed Jongdae as he started
off down the street. For a few blocks, he managed to stay quiet, but finally
the curiosity got to him and he just had to ask.
“Where are we going?”
Jongdae grinned. He was still smoking that black cigarette. “A friend of mine
has a tattoo parlor. We’re going there.”
“A tattoo parlor?”
“Mhm.”
Zitao frowned. “Are you getting a tattoo?”
“Maybe.”
“... How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
Zitao’s eyes widened. “Nineteen?”
“I had some trouble a few years ago and ended up getting held back a bit in
school. It’s no big deal. How old are you?”
“Uh, seventeen.” The sudden question caught Zitao off-guard. “Why?”
Jongdae glanced at him, his gaze raking down Zitao’s form as he flicked away
his cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel. “I was wondering if you were
legal.”
“Legal?”
“You’re kind of innocent, aren’t you?” Jongdae stopped walking and turned
around. He was shorter than Zitao by at least a few inches, but that didn’t
stop him from making Zitao feel incredibly small. “I wanted to know if I could
fuck you without getting arrested.”
Zitao’s eyes widened.
“If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s okay. I can wait. Just know that the
offer’s always open.” 
Jongdae kept on walking after that as if nothing had just happened. As if he
hadn’tjust proposed to sleep with Zitao like it was no big deal. 
An odd feeling curled up in Zitao’s stomach at the thought of Jongdae’s hands
on him, Jongdae’s lips on his, Jongdae inside of him. He wondered if Jongdae’s
tongue would taste of smoke, if his lips would carry a sharp taste that was his
and his alone.
Zitao swallowed hard.
“Come on,” Jongdae said, “I don’t want to be late.”
Realizing that the older male was leaving him behind, Zitao jogged to catch up
with him, still a little flustered from what had transpired mere moments
before. Just know that the offer’s always open. Zitao licked at his lips, those
words looping inside his head, and only vaguely registered the fact that
Jongdae was talking to him about some guy in his class named Kris. A senior,
apparently. 
“He thinks he’s so much better than everyone else,” Jongdae said, an odd tone
in his voice, “I swear, if I ever got the chance, I’d love to disembowel him.”
Zitao raised an eyebrow, the comment bringing him back to the present. “Don’t
you think that’s a little harsh?”
Jongdae glanced at him and laughed. “Oh God, sorry. I forgot you’re not used to
that. I like to exaggerate when I’m ranting about something or someone that I
consider annoying as fuck. You know, say things like “I’m going to set them on
fire” or “I want to shove them off a cliff” even though I’d never do anything
like that. I’m just venting.”
“... I see.” 
Jongdae grinned. “Exactly. Oh, there’s the shop.”
The tattoo parlor was just in front of them, across the street. It wasn’t much:
a white brick building with a red roof and a simple sign above it that said Red
Ink Tattoos. Zitao glanced at Jongdae and the copious amounts of red he wore
and wondered if that was an ongoing thing.
“Is red your favorite color?” he asked as they walked into the shop together.
“Yep. What gave it away?”
Zitao was about to answer, only to see Jongdae’s mischievous grin and realize
the older boy was being sarcastic. “Oh.”
“You catch on pretty quick. Hey, Minseok!”
An even shorter man had just walked out of the back of the shop. He was dressed
in simple dark jeans and a loose-fitting white tee. Tattoos curled up and down
both arms and even stretched up his neck a little ways. He smiled when he saw
Jongdae and gave him a mock salute.
“Hey, Jongdae. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Tao,” Jongdae said. “He’s just here to watch. That okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Just let me get stuff set up. Do you know what you want?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Minseok went into the back again, leaving Zitao to turn towards Jongdae and
raise one eyebrow.
“Tao?”
“It’s easier to say than Zitao.” Jongdae smiled. “Do you mind?”
“No, not at all,” Zitao said, and he meant it. No one had ever given him a
nickname before. Now that Jongdae had, he felt accepted, as if he’d earned a
place there next to this obviously dangerous guy who was two years older than
him. This guy who radiated darkness like it was a second skin.
This guy who’d offered to fuck Zitao like it was nothing.
Minseok came back a little while later and motioned for Jongdae and Zitao to
follow him. They walked into the back and went down a long hallway dotted with
closed doors. Jongdae and Minseok were chatting about this and that, stuff that
didn’t mean much to Zitao out of context. He was focusing on the pictures all
along the hallway, of different people’s tattoos and piercings.
“Did you do all of these?” he asked, glancing at Minseok.
“Oh, no. I did most of them, but Yixing did the others.”
“Yixing?”
“Minseok’s business partner,” Jongdae explained. “Speaking of which, where is
he?”
Minseok waved a hand flippantly. “He’s finishing up with a customer, then he’s
going to watch the front for me while I’m working on you.”
“I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll have to say hello on the way out.”
Minseok led them into one of the rooms at the end of the hallway. It looked
somewhat like a doctor’s office; there was a table on the left covered in the
same, crinkly paper that abounded in examination rooms. A few cabinets and a
sink were adjacent the table, and there was even a wastebasket marked
Hazardous: Do Not Reuse. Jongdae sat down on the faux-exam table and waited
patiently as Minseok rummaged around in one of the cabinets. Zitao stood by the
door and tried his best not to look as out-of-place as he felt.
“Do I need to take off my shirt?” Jongdae asked.
Minseok gave him a look. “You said you wanted this on your chest, so yeah.”
Jongdae grinned and stood, pulling his shirt over his head without an ounce of
hesitation. When he discarded it and turned around to sit back down on the
table, Zitao couldn’t stifle his gasp of surprise.
Jongdae’s back was coveredin tattoos.
The dark ink stretched across his skin, tracing outlines of black wings that
angled down across his shoulder blades and then tapered off into bright red
flames. What looked like stitches had been drawn on to make it look like they
were the only things holding Jongdae’s wings to his skin, and they were
beautiful. But the ink didn’t end there.
Jongdae’s sleeves had hid it before, but a few stray feathers had fallen from
his blackened wings and spiraled their way across his shoulders and along the
underside of his arm to the middle of his tricep. They were less black, more
gray than anything, and Zitao wondered for a moment if the wings meant anything
or if they were just there because Jongdae thought they looked cool.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jongdae said, the exam table paper crinkling
beneath him as he got comfortable again, “Wings tattoos are so cliched and
overrated, right?”
Zitao shook his head. “They’re beautiful.”
“Glad you think so,” Minseok said. “I’m the one who did them.”
“Really?” 
“Yep. Jongdae had them specially designed by me.”
“That’s amazing.” Zitao wanted to touch the tattoos so badly, to run his
fingers along Jongdae’s back and memorize the wings he’d inked into his skin.
As if in response, Jongdae’s earlier proposition resurfaced in his mind: Just
know that the offer’s always open. Zitao swallowed hard and looked away as
Minseok busied himself with pasting the outline of Jongdae’s new tattoo onto
his chest, right over his heart.
“I, uh ... I need some fresh air,” he muttered as he stepped out of the room.
He could sense Jongdae’s eyes on him—searching, wondering. Feeling
claustrophobic, Zitao shut the door and hurried back down the hallway, ignoring
the man at the front desk as he ran out of the shop and into the cool evening
air.
What the hell.
Zitao stood there, on the sidewalk outside the tattoo parlor as the sun set
behind the trees, striving to catch his breath. He had no idea what had just
happened. All he knew was that something in him had triggered a fight or flight
response, and he’d listened. The eleven years of martial arts training he had
under his belt had taught him to never ignore his instincts.
“Hey, are you okay?”
It was the guy who’d been at the front desk. He was standing just inside the
shop’s front door, looking worried. Zitao figured this was Yixing.
“Yeah,” he said, “Sorry, I just ... needed some air.”
“Want a cigarette?”
Zitao looked up at him, about to reject the offer and say he wasn’t old enough,
only to pause when he saw the box Yixing was holding. It was black, reminscent
of the cigarette Jongdae had been smoking earlier. The words Black Devilwere
scrawled across the front of the box in gilded, silver lettering, and Zitao
frowned. Something about them looked enticing.
“Have you ever smoked before?”
“No,” Zitao admitted.
“Are you old enough?”
“Not exactly.”
Yixing smiled. “Want one anyway?”
Zitao glanced at the box, then at Yixing. He was around the same height as
Zitao, if not just a bit shorter. His hair was a dark, reddish-brown, and he
posessed a charming, dimpled smile that had Zitao’s earlier panic disappearing
in an instant. Multi-colored ink peeked out from under the sleeve on his right
arm, and a few piercings had found their way up the underside of his left
ear—just like Jongdae’s—but outside of that, Zitao never would’ve pinned him as
the kind of guy to work in a tattoo parlor.
“Yeah,” he said finally, “Why not.”
He took a cigarette, thanking Yixing when he offered him a light, and reveled
in the unfamiliar taste of tobacco on his tongue when he took his first drag.
It made him think of the word staccato, even though that had everything to do
with sound and absolutely nothing to do with taste; just something about the
cigarette was sharp and abrupt and repetitive.
Zitao loved it.
When he’d calmed down enough, Zitao thanked Yixing again and headed back
inside, considerably more stable and savoring the smoky aftertaste in his
throat. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out there; Yixing had warned him to
take it slow, that Black Devil cigarettes were heavy and could easily make him
pass out if he smoke them too fast.
Zitao had taken that advice to heart.
Now he realized it had been almost an hour, an hour since he’d fled from the
stuffy room with Jongdae and Minseok and the ink in Jongdae’s skin. An hour
since he’d drudged up some strange, misplaced panic that had urged him to run,
as if he’d been in some kind of danger.
I hope Jongdae doesn’t think I’m mad at him or anything, Zitao fretted as he
headed into the back.
The hallway felt a lot more sinister the second time around, as if Zitao was
heading to his death. Annoyed at himself, he shook off his paranoid thoughts
and let himself into the room at the end of the corridor, only to see Jongdae
sitting up on the exam table with his shirt on. 
“Are you done?” Zitao asked.
“Yep.”
“Oh.” Zitao ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry for running off earlier,
by the way. I was just feeling a little claustrophobic.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“I understand.” Jongdae smiled and slipped off the table, grinning at Zitao.
“Too bad that you missed the birth of my new tattoo, though.”
 “Can I see it?” Zitao wondered.
“No,” Minseok said. “It’s bandaged right now. But you can see it tomorrow when
he takes the bandage off.”
“Oh.” Zitao was a little disappointed, but at least he’d get to see it later.
Minseok pulled off his latex gloves, discarding them in a wastebasket next to
the sink, and smiled at Zitao. “Now, what are we doing to you today, Tao?”
“Me?” Zitao put up his hands. “No, no I’m not—”
“Oh come on,” Jongdae interrupted, “You’d look really hot with a tattoo, you
know.”
“I don’t think—”
“Or a piercing.”
Zitao paused, considering that. He’d always wanted piercings, but he wasn’t
sure how his mom would react. Besides, he didn’t have any way to pay for it. “I
don’t have any money,” he said.
“It’s not expensive for just one piercing. I’ll pay for it.” Jongdae pulled out
his wallet and Zitao shook his head.
“No, Jongdae, I couldn’t—”
“I insist.” Jongdae stepped in close, smirking. “It’d be nice to have something
else to tug on when I finally get you in my bed.”
Zitao felt his face heat up again, and Jongdae laughed.
“It’s settled, then.”
“Alright.” Minseok slipped on a new pair of gloves and began cleaning his
needle. “What kind of piercing do you want, Tao?”
“Uhh ...”
“How about a helix?” Jongdae suggested, reaching up to run his finger along the
outside of Zitao’s left ear. The contact had Zitao shuddering, his mouth going
dry at Jongdae’s close proximity.
He smelled really good.
“Okay,” Zitao said breathily. “Okay.”
Jongdae’s grin turned feral. “Awesome.”
Twenty minutes later, the two left Red Ink Tattoos, thanking Yixing and Minseok
as they headed down the street. Jongdae’s spirits seemed rather high. There was
a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.
Zitao, meanwhile, was trying his best not to touch his new piercing. It was a
tiny silver hoop in the upper cartilage of his left ear; not much, but enough
that it had him wanting to mess with it.
“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Jongdae asked.
“What?”
“Getting things like that done. There’s a certain thrill that goes with it.”
Zitao resisted the urge to reach up and finger the hoop resting against his
cartilage, settling instead for nodding. He knew what Jongdae meant. The thrill
that had gone through him when Minseok’s needle had pierced his skin, the rush
of adrenaline—it was addicting. “Is that why you have so many piercings?”
“Yep.”
“What about your tattoos?”
Jongdae grinned. “Same reason. If you ever end up getting one, you’ll
understand. The thrill that comes with getting a piercing is nothing compared
to the way it feels to have someone burn ink into your skin.”
“Maybe someday.”
“Does that mean anytime soon?”
“No, definitely not.” Zitao thought of the hoop in his ear and frowned. “A few
piercings, yeah. But a tattoo would be pushing it.”
“Pushing it?”
“Yeah, with my mom.”
“Oh. I understand. I can wait.”
Zitao swallowed hard. I can wait. That reminded him yet again of Jongdae’s
earlier words, the ones that would not leave him alone no matter how he tried
to forget them.
“Jongdae?”
“Mmm?”
Zitao fidgeted with the hem of his dark t-shirt. “I, uh ... I just wanted to
say thanks, you know, for today.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do. I mean, I was the awkward new kid, yet you let me come along and
were so nice to me and even paid for this piercing.” Zitao bit down on his
lower lip. “No one’s been that kind to me in a while, so ... thanks.”
Jongdae smiled, softer than the grins he’d worn before. “Do you want to know
why I invited you with me and treated you so well?”
“ ... Why?”
“Because I felt drawn to you. I’m not sure what it was, but there’s something
in you that called to me.” Jongdae moved closer, tapping Zitao’s chin with his
forefinger. “We’re connected, Huang Zitao.”
Zitao swallowed hard. Jongdae was really close to him again, and it was getting
harder for Zitao to hold to his standards, especially when Jongdae’s words were
still circling inside his head over and over. Like a broken record. Just know
that the offer’s always open. Just know that the offer’s always open. Just know
that the offer’s always open. 
Jongdae grinned. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Y-yeah.”    
The older male walked off toward his house. Zitao watched him until he was out
of sight, simultaneously intrigued and concerned.
What have I gotten myself into?
His house was just down the road, a tiny cookie-cutter building with a small
front porch that couldn’t really be considered a porch, baby blue window
shutters, and a shingled roof. There was only one story, but seeing as it was
just Zitao and his mom, that wasn’t a problem. Sighing a bit, Zitao headed up
the front steps and inside, trying to think up something to say to his mom
about the hoop in his ear. He didn’t think she’d hate it, but he wasn’t sure if
she’d approve of it either.
“Zitao, honey? Is that you?”
“Yeah, mom.” Zitao kicked off his shoes and stepped into the foyer, hoping he
didn’t look as nervous as he felt when his mom entered the living room. She
smiled upon seeing him; her hair was somewhat of a mess and she was still in
her work clothes. Zitao figured she’d fallen asleep on the couch again after
getting home.
That was normal.
Zitao felt himself relax. He’d never been a big fan of normality, but it was
nice to have a routine every once in a while. “Hey, mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. How was your first day?”
“Good,” Zitao said, and for once, he meant it, “Really good. I made some new
friends.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They’re really awesome. That’s why I’m home late; I was hanging out with
them. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
“Also ...” Zitao trailed off, suddenly unsure now that he was staring his
mother in the face. She’d aged so much the past few years, weighed down by the
responsibilities and the amount of times they’d had to uproot themselves. She
couldn’t help that her job gave her the need to constantly move around and
Zitao knew it. He didn’t blame her at all.
But she blamed herself, and the lines in her face that hadn’t been there a year
ago were proof of it.
“Yes?” his mother urged, staring at him. They were both so similar; neither
spoke much unless they needed to. His mother also had the same affinity for
black that Zitao did. He suspected she was the reason he loved the color so
much.
“I, uh ... I got a piercing today.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Yeah. On my ear. It’s not much.” He turned his head to show her, flinching a
little when she came forward and reached up for the silver hoop. “Ah, don’t
touch it. It’s still healing.”
“Sorry.” She stepped back and smiled. “It looks nice on you.”
“... You’re okay with it?”
“You didn’t think I would be?”
Zitao shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean, I wasn’t sure ...”
She smiled. “Sweetie, you know how I feel about things like this. I want you to
go out and live your life. Be a teenager for as long as you can. If that
includes getting your ears pierced up, then so be it.”
“Oh.” Zitao felt relief flood through his chest. “What about tattoos then?”
She laughed. “I’d rather you waited until you were older.”
“I can live with that.”
They ate TV dinners and watched game shows together until Zitao decided he
needed to finish his homework. He bade his mother goodnight, cleaned up his
dinner mess, and retreated into his room. His ear was still throbbing as he sat
down at his desk and pulled his textbooks out of his backpack, but it wasn’t
painful. In fact it was kind of nice.
Comforting, almost.
Zitao went to bed early and wondered if his mother would be okay with him
smoking cigarettes.
 
 
He spent all night thinking about the black cigarette Yixing had given him the
day before. It had been so calming, and Zitao wanted more. He just wasn’t sure
if he should. His mother had told him that she wanted him to go out and live
his life, and he knew that was because she felt guilty for moving them around
and deriving Zitao of a normal childhood, but he wasn’t sure if cigarettes
would be okay with her.
They weren’t exactly healthy.
In the end, however, he knew he couldn’t just brush off the urge thrumming
through his blood. He was thirsting for the high he’d gotten from the tobacco,
the subtle tingle of nicotine on the tip of his tongue, so on his way to school
the next morning, Zitao stopped by Red Ink Tattoos and asked Yixing for a box
of cigarettes.
“They’re addicting, aren’t they?” Yixing said with a laugh, handing the box
marked Black Devilover. “I really shouldn’t be doing this, but hey, it’s none
of my business whether you want to smoke these or not. Just don’t tell anyone
who you got them from, alright?”
“Okay,” Zitao agreed, “Thanks, Yixing.”
“You’re welcome.”
Zitao shoved the box into his backpack and continued on to school, an odd sense
of excitement rising up in him. It felt like the same rush he’d gotten at the
tattoo parlor the day before, when Minseok had slipped a needle through his
skin and pinned the silver hoop through it like a badge of honor, but of a
slightly different flavor. Zitao decided to ask Jongdae about it later and
focused on getting to class on time.
He didn’t see Jongdae at all during his first period, but second period he ran
into him in the hallway, digging something out of his locker.
Jongdae was dressed in all red and black yet again, only it was flipped. The
day before it had been red pants and a black tee, but now it was black pants
and a red tee. He also had red converse with black laces. Zitao wondered if he
ever wore any other color.
Then again, Zitao often wore black and nothing else, so he could relate.
“Jongdae!” he called.
The older male turned at the sound of his name, a smirk flitting across his
bowed lips when he saw Zitao approached him. “Hey, Tao. How’s your piercing?”
“Good. I cleaned it just as Minseok said I should and it seems to be doing
well.”
“Awesome.”
“How’s your tattoo?”
“Healing. It’s still really red and irritated, but I can show you after school,
if you like?”
“Why after?”
Jongdae frowned. “I may be old enough to get a tattoo, but I know the school’s
administration wouldn’t be very happy about the amount I have, and I don’t want
to get held back another year.”
“Could they really do that?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t exactly want to chance it, you know.”
“That makes sense.” Zitao smiled. “After school, then.”
“Yeah. After school.”
When lunch rolled around, Zitao sat with Jongdae, Amber, and Kyungsoo yet
again. He still hadn’t heard Kyungsoo speak, but at this point he’d accepted
it. Kyungsoo didn’t seem like the talking type. Jongdae had been right when
he’d said the short, wide-eyed boy looked more like the psychotic, murder-your-
entire-family type.
“I’m going to dye my hair,” Jongdae announced suddenly.
Zitao raised an eyebrow. “Dye it?”
“Oooh, what color?” Amber asked.
“Dark red.”
“I should’ve known.”
Zitao smiled. “You have a bit of an obsession with that color, huh?”
“That’s an understatement,” Amber said, rolling her eyes, “I don’t think there
are any other colors he likes. Well, except black. But the only reason he likes
black is because it goes so well with red.”
“Indeed it does.” Jongdae was staring at Zitao, his eyes dark and hooded, and
Zitao quickly looked away. He wasn’t sure what that expression meant at first,
but it didn’t take much thought for him to figure it out.
Just know that the offer’s always open.
“I think Zitao would look good with blond hair,” Amber said then, jolting Zitao
from his thoughts.
“Wait, what?”
“I agree.” Jongdae leaned forward to run his fingers through Zitao’s short,
dark hair. The sudden contact made Zitao freeze, his breath snagging in his
chest as Jongdae’s fingernails scraped across his scalp. “Blond would look nice
on you.”
Amber nodded. “Exactly! It would offset all that black he wears.” She leaned
over to nudge Kyungsoo, grinning as if they knew something no one else did.
“You know what? We should have a hair-dyeing party tonight. I’ve been wanting
to do something else with my hair for a while now too.”
“I’ll have to pick up the bleach for Tao’s hair first,” Jongdae said.
“We can have it on tomorrow, then. Thursday works better for me anyway.”
“Whoa, whoa, guys,” Zitao said, “I never agreed to this. I don’t know if I
could go blond, not when my hair’s always been black.”
“But that’s the whole point!” Jongdae exclaimed. “You need to branch out and
try new things!”
“I don’t know ...”
Jongdae gave him his best pleading look. “Please?”
“Jongdae—”
“Pleeeeease?”
Zitao stared at him a moment longer before he sighed, his shoulders slumping in
defeat. “Oh, alright. I guess it couldn’t hurt. Besides, if I don’t like it, I
can always dye it back, right?”
“Right.” Jongdae grinned. “Then it’s settled. Nine o’clock Thursday night, my
place.”
“Sounds good,” Amber said.
Zitao went back to eating as normal conversation resumed and tried to imagine
himself blond. It didn’t work out, but he decided he’d give it a shot anyway,
for Jongdae.
Anything for Jongdae.
He ended up finishing a bit early and bade the three others at the table
farewell, saying he needed to use the restroom before class. Amber and Kyungsoo
waved goodbye—Kyungsoo, as silent as ever—but Jongdae watched him with those
keen, slanted eyes of his, as if he knew Zitao wasn’t telling them the whole
truth.
Zitao looked away and hurried out of the cafeteria.
He did have to use the restroom, yes, but he also wanted to sneak out before
class and have a smoke. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Black Devil
cigarettes in his backpack. His fingers itched to hold one, his mouth longed
for their taste on his tongue. So after relieving himself, he slipped out the
back of the school and found a nice alcove far away from prying eyes.
When he stuck one of the cigarettes in his mouth and lit it, the rest of the
world faded away.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, pulling slow, deep drags and blowing
out clouds of smoke, but by the time he was done he realized he was late for
his class. Cursing under his breath, Zitao crushed the butt of his cigarette
beneath his heel and sighed. Oh, well. He’d had a perfect record up until then;
one missed class wouldn’t hurt him. He could just tell his teacher he hadn’t
been feeling well or something.
Taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Zitao shouldered his backpack and
decided to head back inside. Even though he’d missed class, he still had things
to do. He could go to the library and study for the history quiz he had at the
end of the week. That sounded like a good way to pass the time until his next,
and last, class of the day, so Zitao headed back towards the school’s back
door.
But just before he went inside, the door swung open and Jongdae emerged, an odd
look in his eyes.
“Jongdae,” Zitao gasped.
“Hey, Tao.”
He stepped closer and Zitao automatically took a step back. There was something
strange about Jongdae’s expression—something predatory. Zitao didn’t like it.
“Didn’t you have class?”
“I ... I’m skipping today.”
“Oh?” Jongdae continued to advance forward, and Zitao was running out of places
to go. Behind him was their basketball court, but it was surrounded by a chain-
link fence. If Zitao kept backing up, he’d run into it. To his left was the
forest that dominated the majority of the land behind the school, to the right
was the road, and then Jongdae was in front, blocking the entrance to the
school.
Zitao was trapped.
He kept backing away regardless, and eventually ran into the basketball court’s
fence. When he did, he dropped his backpack, feeling very small yet again
despite the good five inches he had on Jongdae. He could’ve easily told Jongdae
the truth—that he’d gotten a pack of cigarettes and had gone out for a
smoke—but something about the look in Jongdae’s eyes stopped him even as the
older male came closer and closer and closer.
Then Jongdae surged forward, closing the distance left between them and sealing
their mouths together.
Zitao froze.
... What?
The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but to Zitao, it felt like an eternity.
Jongdae’s mouth was plush and soft, curling up in a smile as he pulled away and
licked his lips, and Zitao wanted to pull him back. He wanted to taste Jongdae
properly. But he’d lost his chance. Jongdae had a hold on his shoulders,
pinning him against the fence, and Zitao realized then that the shorter male
was a lot stronger than he looked.
“You’ve tasted the Devil, haven’t you?” Jongdae asked, catching Zitao off
guard.
“ ... What?”
Jongdae sighed a pulled a box of Black Devils from his back pocket. “These.
You’ve had them. I can taste them on your lips.”
“Oh ... yeah ...”
“Did Yixing give them to you?”
Zitao hesitated, remembering what Yixing had said before. Just don’t tell
anyone who you got them from, alright? But this was Jongdae. Yixing and Jongdae
knew each other, and since Zitao had gotten a piercing there and no one had
cared, he was sure it’d be fine. “Yeah,” he said finally. “The other day, when
I had that claustrophobia attack ... Yixing gave me one to help calm me down.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
Zitao shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Was it because of the thrill?” Jongdae drew the pad of his thumb across
Zitao’s lips, a manic look in his eyes. “The thrill of rebellion, of lying, of
having a secret to yourself?”
Despite himself, Zitao nodded.
“I understand. As a matter of fact, that was the same reason I started
smoking.” He grinned and stuck one of the black cigarettes between his lips,
lighting it in one smooth motion with a lighter he’d seemingly pulled from
nowhere. Zitao watched as he took a drag, releasing the smoke into the air
between them, and longed to kiss him again. As if he could sense Zitao’s want,
Jongdae’s smile widened.
“Jongdae ...” Zitao began.
“Do you want to kiss me?”
“Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for? I’m not going anywhere.”
Zitao pulled the older male to him in an instant, wrapping an arm around
Jongdae’s middle and flicking the lit cigarette away with his free hand so he
could lean down to kiss him—gently, at first, then deeper when he got the feel
for it. Jongdae responded easily, slipping his tongue into Zitao’s mouth as his
hands grabbed at the younger male’s hips. One knee found its way between
Zitao’s legs, rubbing against him in a way that had Zitao gasping, and Jongdae
chuckled into the kiss.
“Getting hard, are we, Zitao?”
Zitao moaned softly in response, his mind clouded with lust. Despite his
haziness, though, he was still alert enough to realize that this was getting
out of hand very quickly. He wasn’t ready for this, not yet.
“Stop,” he gasped, “Jongdae, stop.”
Jongdae pulled away in an instant, his eyes wide. “Sorry, was that too much?”
“Yeah ... yeah, but it’s okay. I just ... I don’t want to go too fast.”
Jongdae smiled and it looked nothing like the hungry grin he’d sported before;
this one was soft and relaxed, understanding. “I know,” he said. “Don’t worry,
I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Zitao licked his lips, tasting Jongdae and cigarettes.
Jongdae and the Devil.
“Thank you.”
 
 
When Zitao got home, the first thing he did was take a shower.
He felt weird. Corrupted, almost, like there was something under his skin that
he hadn’t been aware of before. Perhaps it was a combination of the cigarettes
he’d smoked and the fact that he could still taste Jongdae on his lips. He
wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, Zitao was afraid his mother would be able to
sense it on him if he didn’t shower.
He stood beneath the spray for a long time and wondered why he felt so
detached. There was an odd ache in his chest, as if he was missing something.
Zitao swallowed hard and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower
before his wandering thoughts went somewhere he wasn’t prepared to deal with.
Not long later, his mother came home, bringing with her dinner she’d picked up
from a local fast food restaraunt. She was the same as ever: all tired smiles
and eternal patience even despite the dark circles under her eyes. Zitao knew
she tried her best to hide them with her concealer, but it never quite worked.
“How was school today?” she asked, busying herself with getting them both
something to drink. They were sitting at the kitchen table today, opting for
conversation rather than TV. Zitao preferred the nights where they just sat and
talked to the ones where they watched movies together anyway.
“I got invited to a sleepover tomorrow night.”
“Oh?” his mother’s eyes brightened, and Zitao could tell she was happy for him.
If only she knew. “That’s great! Is it with the same friends you made the other
day?”
“Yeah. Um, they want ... they want to dye my hair.”
“What color?”
“... Blond.”
“Mmm?” His mother stared at him for a second, her eyes narrowed. “You know
what, I think blond would look really nice on you. You should go.”
“Even though it’s on a school night?”
“Zitao, I told you before that I just want you to have fun during your teenage
years. I mean, I spent the majority of mine getting drunk and going to too many
parties, so I think you could stand to get a few piercings and bleach your
hair.” Her smiled softened. “Have fun with your friends, Zitao. You know that’s
all I want.”
Zitao smiled. “Thanks, mom. You’re the best.”
He went to bed not long later, exhausted and excited. He had so much to look
forward to: the upcoming weekend, the hair-dyeing party at Jongdae’s place,
hanging out with friends—everything. Zitao wanted it to be morning already so
he could go. 
It wasn’t until he was nearly asleep that he remembered Jongdae had never shown
him his tattoo.
 
 
“Amber and Kyungsoo cancelled on us.”
Zitao closed his locker, frowning at Jongdae. It was Thursday. The older male
was wearing those same red pants again, only this time they were coupled with a
pair of all-black Vans and a black tank top that showed off his arms and
shoulders. Zitao had to force himself to stop staring. “They did? Why?”
“I don’t know. Probably so they could hook up or something.” Jongdae rolled his
eyes. “They do this a lot.”
“What, randomly cancel on you?”
“Yeah. It’s a good thing I have you now, right?”
“Yeah.” Zitao’s hand was still lingering on the cold metal of the locker. He
imagined running it along Jongdae’s chest instead, feeling the lines and curves
of his skin and the bones beneath, and had to clear his throat before he spoke
again. “So it’s, uh ... it’s just going to be the two of us tonight?”
“Bingo.”
“Oh.” Zitao felt a tingle of excitement race down his spine. “Awesome.”
Jongdae responded with a knowing grin. “How many classes do you have left?”
“Only one, and it’s just study hall.”
“Why not skip today?”
Zitao hesitated. “Well ...” 
“Come on, it’s not like it’s a big deal. I doubt your teacher will care.”
That was true. Some schools were really strict about study hall, but in this
one it seemed that most students just talked or messed around during it.
“Okay,” Zitao said after a moment, “I’ve never missed before this, so I don’t
think it’ll matter.”
Jongdae’s resulting grin reminded Zitao of the Cheshire cat. “Exactly.”
“Are we going to go straight to your house, then?”
“Only if you’re ready.”
“I’ve got everything I need in my backpack.”
Jongdae grinned and slipped his hands into his pockets. Zitao wondered how he
could when his pants were as tight as they were. “Good, then let’s go.”
It was cool outside when they exited the school. The street was devoid of the
usual crowd of school buses and parents picking up their kids, mostly because
Jongdae and Zitao were leaving early, and it seemed a lot easier to breathe
because of it. Zitao inhaled slowly and felt a thrill go through him at the
realization that he was skipping class yet again.
Because of Jongdae.
He knew that he probably should’ve pegged Jongdae as a bad influence at that
point and stopped hanging out with him, but something about the older male kept
pulling him closer. Something besides the fact that he was hot as hell.
I’m not sure what it was, but there’s something in you that called to
me,Jongdae had said. We’re connected, Huang Zitao.
Zitao didn’t know what it was either, but he knew what Jongdae was talking
about. There was some bond, some unspoken tie between them, drawing them closer
to each other like the opposite sides of a magnet. It was odd and a little
disconcerting, but Zitao wasn’t about to try and pull away. He was in too deep
already.
And he wouldn’t have left even if he could.
“My house isn’t far,” Jongdae said, bringing Zitao back to the present. “We
should be there in about five minutes.”
“Are your parents home?”
“No. They’ll both be at work.”
“Ah.” It hit Zitao suddenly that he didn’t know much about Jongdae besides his
tattoos, piercings, and general risky behavior. They’d never sat down and
talked about what they liked or about their family lives or dreams or
aspirations.
Zitao knew almost nothing about him.
Maybe I’ll get a chance to ask tonight,he thought. He would’ve asked then, but
something about the way Jongdae’s voice had tightened at the mention of his
parents had Zitao holding off. He could ask later, when they were a lot more
comfortable and settled down in Jongdae’s house.
“There it is,” Jongdae said then.
Zitao looked up, his eyes widening at the picturesque, three-story-house
Jongdae was pointing at. The house itself was surrounded by others of similar
build and color, and it took Zitao a moment to realize that they were in a very
high-end neighborhood. In comparison, Zitao’s house would’ve felt like a run-
down heap even though he knew he and his mother were doing pretty well, all
things considered.
Jongdae’s house, besides having three stories, had an abundance of windows,
Doric columns on all four corners of the front porch, and even a duo of black,
Victorian-era streetlights to light the path up to the front door. All in all,
the house felt very blue-blood. Zitao was almost afraid to enter it, as if he’d
taint its high-class standards just by breathing the air inside.
“Come on,” Jongdae said, motioning him forward.
“Whoa,” Zitao gasped, “Your house is amazing.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I mean ... wow. I had no idea your family was this well-off.”
Jongdae shrugged. “We make do.”
There was that tightness in his voice again. Zitao didn’t like it, but he
decided not to point it out as he followed Jongdae up the front porch’s stairs
and into the house. Inside, it was just as impressive as it had been on the
outside, with polished wooden floors, curving staircases, and soaring ceilings.
A beautiful, glass chandelier hung just over the front door, giving off warm,
yellow light, and Zitao had to pause and stare just to take it all in.
“My room’s upstairs.” Jongdae’s voice jolted him out of his awe-struck silence.
“Want to head on up? I already have the bleach for your hair ready. Or we could
eat first, if you want?”
“I’m not really hungry right now.”
“Me neither.” Jongdae headed up one of the large staircases. “Let’s go, then.
I’d like to get started.”
Zitao followed him. “You said you were going to dye your hair dark red?”
“Yep.”
“Do you have to bleach it first?”
“Nope. The color I got goes over dark hair.”
“Oh.” 
Jongdae’s bedroom was a lot less pompous than the rest of the house. It was a
normal-sized room with a full mattress, and the main colors were, of course,
red and black. The only thing that wasn’t steeped in the two colors was the
hardwood floor.
“Whoa,” Zitao said again.
Jongdae smiled. “It’s not that great. Come on.”
The bleach and hair color they needed was on Jongdae’s dresser, along with some
latex gloves and special shampoo that Jongdae said would help set the dye. Once
he’d grabbed everything they needed, he led Zitao into the master bathroom. It
was huge even compared to the master bedroom, sporting two sinks, a large
countertop, a shower that looked more like a high-tech teleportation device
than a shower, a huge bathtub, and a ridiculous amount of floor space.
“Whoa,” Zitao said for the third time.
“Yeah.” Jongdae was messing with something, and Zitao peeked over his shoulder
to see what he was doing. It looked like he was mixing the bleach together with
another bottle of liquid that Zitao didn’t recognize.
“What’s that?”
“Toner,” Jongdae explained. “It’ll help get rid of that gross, yellowy-blond
color that can sometimes happen when you bleach your hair yourself.”
“Oh.”
Zitao knew nothing about dyeing hair, so he decided to just let Jongdae deal
with that. 
He waited patiently while Jongdae busied himself with getting everything ready,
then sat on the edge of the bathtub, per Jongdae’s instructions, so they could
begin. Jongdae’s close proximity was nice as he worked, as were the way his
hands felt massaging the product into Zitao’s hair. The bleach smelled kind of
weird though.
“Okay,” the older male said when he was done, “We need to let that sit for
thirty minutes. Then we’ll wash it off and see how the color looks. In the
meantime, can you help me with mine?”
Zitao blinked, surprised. “Oh ... uh, sure, I guess. What do you want me to
do?”
Jongdae smiled and traded places with him, sitting perched on the edge of the
tub. “Just put on a new pair of gloves, shake up the color, and put it in my
hair. Try to avoid getting it on my scalp, my face, or my neck as best you can.
If you do, though, don’t worry about it. I can get it off easily enough.”
“Okay.” Zitao put the gloves on and shook up the bottle of color, only to
hesitate. “I don’t ... Jongdae, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“It’s okay. It’s not hard, really. I trust you.”
Zitao worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Are you sure?”
Jongdae smiled up at him and nodded, his bowed lips curling at the edges.
“Absolutely.”
“... Okay.”
Zitao was still a little hesitant, but once he got into the swing of it, he
realized Jongdae had been right. It was easy. He just added the color to
Jongdae’s hair and tried his best to keep from making any mistakes. As a matter
of fact, it was actually kind of fun. 
“Nearly done,” he said, checking to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots. There
were none and Zitao smiled, happy with himself. He’d done a good job. “Okay, I
think that’s it. How long do we have to wait?”
“About the same time.” Jongdae stood, surveying himself in the mirror, and
laughed. “I look like some sort of greasy mafia boss with my hair pushed back
like this.”
Zitao grinned. “I’m not much better.”
“You look a lot more badass than I do, though.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Jongdae shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, while we’re
waiting, why don’t we go watch a movie or something?”
“Okay.”
They sat on the edge of Jongdae’s bed, careful not to get any bleach or dye on
it, and watched the first thiry minutes of The Blair Witch Project. Zitao had
never seen it before—“This needs to be rectified immediately!” Jongdae exlaimed
upon finding out—and he was just getting into it when Jongdae’s phone suddenly
rang.
“Oh, that’s the timer,” Jongdae said, standing and pausing the movie. “Come on,
let’s go wash our hair.”
When they were done washing up with the special purple shampoo Jongdae had, the
older male refused to let Zitao see how his hair looked.
“Let me blow dry it and style it first,” he said, “Thenyou can look at it.”
Zitao sighed and gave in, waiting as Jongdae dried his own hair and then moved
to do Zitao’s. It didn’t take very long—Zitao’s hair had always been thin and
dried quick, so it was within ten minutes that Jongdae turned the blow dryer
off and made an appreciative noise.
“You can look now.”
Feeling anxious, Zitao turned toward the mirror, only to go still as he
realized that he barely recognized the person staring back at him.
His hair was blond.
Not platinum blond, more like a soft, golden color, like wheat. It was styled
well thanks to Jongdae’s skilled hands, and Zitao found that he loved it. He
hadn’t thought that it would look good, despite what everyone else had said,
but now that he was looking at it, he had to agree with them. Honestly, he
looked great. 
“Wow,” he breathed.
“I know, right?” Jongdae set the blow dryer off to the side. His hair was now a
dark, burgundy color, and it looked amazing on him. “I told you so.”
Zitao looked at himself in the mirror again, awestruck. “Wow.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“I don’t know what else to say. I just ... it’s really ... wow.”
“Does that mean you like it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it looks amazing, Jongdae, thank you.”
Jongade’s resulting smile was brighter than the sun. “So do you want to finish
that movie now?”
Zitao nodded. “And maybe we could get something to eat, too? I’m kind of
hungry.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Jongdae ended up ordering pizza from some great local restaraunt down the
street. They ate in Jongdae’s bedroom while finishing the movie, laughing and
talking and making comments. Zitao was very tense during the last fifteen
minutes of the movie as it finally reached the crescendo, and the ending had
goosebumps crawling along his arms. There was so much screaming.
“What happened?” he asked as the screen went dark.
“They died,” Jongdae said matter-of-factly. “They were murdered by witches.
Ooooh.”
Zitao punched him playfully on the arm. “Shut up.”
“You were scared.”
“I was not.”
Jongdae gave him a knowing look and Zitao flipped him off, to which the older
male laughed. “You learn fast.”
“Whatever.” Zitao leaned back on the mattress, blissfully full and satisfied
with the night so far. “What are we going to do now?”
“Anything we want.”
“Anything?”
Jongdae nodded, an odd look in his eyes. “Absolutely anything.”
“... What does that mean?”
Jongdae didn’t reply to that. Instead, he moved closer to Zitao, hovering over
him, and the younger male tensed up.
“What are you doing?”
Jongdae must have heard the tinge of panic in Zitao’s voice, because he quickly
pulled back and smiled gently. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m not going to do anything
you don’t want. All you have to do is tell me when to stop, and I will.
Alright?”
Zitao swallowed thickly and didn’t respond.
“Zitao?”
“Yeah. Yeah, alright.”
Jongdae smiled as he leaned down, kissing Zitao’s neck. A shudder of pleasure
ran through Zitao’s body in response and he reached up to grab at Jongdae’s
shoulders. He was still unsure about this whole thing, but he trusted Jongdae.
He trusted Jongdae with his life at this point. So even as Jongdae’s body
molded against his, even as Jongdae’s kisses became more and more heated, Zitao
continued to trust him.
“Zitao,” Jongdae whispered, his breath swirling across Zitao’s neck, “I’m going
to jerk you off now. Is that okay?”
Zitao whimpered in response. His pants had been feeling tight for the past few
minutes. “Y-yes.”
“Okay.”
Jongdae’s right hand skimmed along the edge of Zitao’s jeans, pausing for a
moment to unbutton and unzip them before moving down farther. Zitao gasped
softly as Jongdae’s fingers brushed across him through his underwear. When he
finally dipped his hand under to stroke Zitao to life, skin-against-skin,
Zitao’s resulting groan resonated off the bedroom’s walls.
Jongdae chuckled. “I’m guessing you liked that?”
Zitao blushed and didn’t reply, his hands gripping at the bedsheets as Jongdae
pulled his jeans and underwear down to his knees. Then Jongdae was stroking him
full-force, dragging choked moans from Zitao’s lips, and the younger male knew
he wouldn’t be able to last long at this point. He was too inexperienced, too
unsure of himself, and every touch of Jongdae’s was setting off fireworks
beneath his skin.
“I ... I can’t ...” he gasped. “I can’t hold on l-like this.”
“Aww, well we can’t have that, now can we?”
Confusion descended on Zitao as Jongdae pulled away and began to strip,
throwing his tank top off and revealing the tattoo on the left side of his
chest that Zitao hadn’t seen earlier. It was an upside-down cross surrounded by
a circular design and Zitao frowned. Isn’t that a Christian symbol? He would’ve
asked about it, the fact that Jongdae was now completely naked was kind of
distracting.
Holy shit, this is happening.
The older male climbed back onto the bed, a wicked smirk adorning his perfect
lips as he moved to hover over Zitao. “You’re so fucking hot like this, Tao,”
he murmured. “I knew blond would look great on you.”
“Jongdae ...”
“Hmm?”
“How far are you planning on taking this?”
Innocence replaced the predatory expression on Jongdae’s face. “I told you
before, Zitao. As far as you want. Tell me when to stop, and I will.” He
hesitated. “Do you want me to stop?”
Zitao shook his head and Jongdae smiled.
“Then there’s no problem, is there?” Jongdae leaned back down, kissing Zitao
slow and deep, and Zitao instinctively relaxed into it. Right. This was
Jongdae. Jongdae wouldn’t hurt him or do anything he didn’t want. He had no
reason to be anxious.
“Touch me?” Jongdae asked, moving to nip at Zitao’s jawline. “I need you to
touch me.”
Wanting to please, Zitao reached down, inhaling sharply when he felt his
fingers brush across Jongdae’s dick. He was a bit unsure, but then Jongdae
released a soft, breathy noise that had Zitao’s head going light, and he found
his inhibitions slipping away as he began to move his hand. Jongdae responded
well, moaning and gasping at all the right moments. His burgundy hair was
plastered to the sides of his face, his perfect lips flushed and swollen, and
Zitao decided that he looked the best like this.
I don’t want this to end.
Jongdae pulled back suddenly, pushing Zitao back down onto the bed as he moved
forward and grabbed both their dicks in one hand. Zitao frowned, confused. Then
Jongdae began to move, stroking them both at once, and he understood.
“Jongdae,” he breathed, grabbing at the older male’s hips in order to anchor
himself to reality, “Oh my God, Jongdae.”
Jongdae was panting, gasping for breath as he sped up his movements. The sight
of him had Zitao going crazy, heat pooling rapidly in his stomach as he did his
best to stay calm and collected, but that was hard to do when Jongdae hands
were spurring them both on to completion.
“Zitao,” Jongdae murmured, drawing him back to reality. He’d stopped moving and
was staring down at Zitao instead, his gaze dark and heavy.
“Y-yeah?”
“I really want to fuck you.”
Zitao’s toes curled. “I ... Jongdae, I don’t ...”
“Please. I need you.”
This wasn’t what Zitao had asked for. Unsure, he clenched at the bedsheets
beneath him, trying to think logically through the lust clouding his mind and
his senses. He’d lost his inhibitions a while ago. Besides, this is Jongdae, a
voice in his mind that didn’t sound like his said, you’ve been wanting Jongdae
since you first met him. Would it really be so bad? He’d be gentle with you;
you know he would.
Zitao’s mouth went dry. I don’t know ...
It will be the best night of your life if you say yes, and you know it.
But ...
Come on. Didn’t your mother always say you needed to live a little?
Zitao reached up to grab at Jongdae’s shoulders, digging his fingernails into
the older male’s skin. He wanted to be sure that he wasn’t dreaming. “Okay,” he
said finally, “Go ahead.”
Jongdae hesitated. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” A mischievous smile replaced the unsure expression on Jongdae’s face.
“Then tell me what you want me to do.”
Zitao’s face reddened. He could hear the challenge in Jongdae’s voice, that
lilting, teasing tone that was saying come on, say it out loud. I dare you. 
“I want you to fuck me.”
Jongdae’s eyes darkened. “As you wish.”
He had lube. Zitao wasn’t entirely sure where he’d gotten it from or how long
he’d had it, but none of that mattered to him now. Jongdae was jerking him off
slowly with one hand, using the other to lube him up and stretch him open. The
feeling of being penetrated in such a personal place was alien to Zitao, but
not bad, per se. 
Zitao tilted his head back and closed his eyes and trusted Jongdae even as the
older male slid in a second finger, increasing the burning feeling in Zitao’s
lower abdomen.
This is what you wanted, Zitao, someone said, and Zitao was no longer sure if
it was Jongdae speaking or if it was all in his mind. 
A third finger entered him and now the burn was receding. Zitao squirmed a bit,
pleasure running along his skin like lightning as he reached out blindly for
Jongdae. The older male took his hand and laced their fingers together.
“J-Jongdae ...”
“Mmm?”
“Hurry up.”
Jongdae chuckled. “So impatient.” He moved up so they were face-to-face and ran
his fingers through Zitao’s newly-bleached hair. Zitao shuddered at the
contact, his chest tightening as he realized Jongdae still had his fingers
inside him. 
For half a second, Jongdae’s eyes flashed red, then Zitao blinked and they were
their normal, dark brown yet again.
... Am I seeing things?
“Get on your hands and knees,” Jongdae said, pulling his fingers out.
 
“Wh-what?”
“Hands and knees. Turn over.”
Zitao nodded, a bit flustered and confused by what he thought he’d seen. He
still obeyed, however, moving so he was propped up on his hands and knees with
his ass in the air. He felt so exposed like this, vulnerable and helpless with
Jongdae in control.
It was incredibly thrilling.
“Good boy,” Jongdae murmured, trailing feather-light touches over the curve of
Zitao’s spine. “Now, make sure you don’t tense up. If you do then this will
hurt.”
Zitao trembled. “O-okay.”
“Ssh, it’s alright. I’ll be gentle. Just relax.”
Zitao did so, taking slow, deep breaths and trying his best not to think of
Jongdae stroking himself, Jongdae pushing into him, Jongdae moving inside of
him. Zitao swallowed hard and forced himself to relax. Just relax. Just relax.
It’s Jongade; he’d never hurt you. It’s okay. He repeated these words in his
head, over and over and over again. 
Then Jongdae began to slide into him and his focus shattered.
“Jongdae!” he cried, the name coming out choked and broken as his back bowed.
Jongdae leaned forward, peppering soft kisses along his shoulders and humming
softly. “Shh. Calm down, Zitao, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
Zitao nodded and focused instead on Jongdae’s mouth against his skin, Jongdae’s
fingers digging into his hips—anything but the pressure of Jongdae entering
him. That helped, at least until Jongdae slid in to the hilt. Zitao felt
pleasure curl up inside his stomach in response, hot and heavy, and he resisted
the insane urge to touch himself. His own cock was stiff and hard against his
stomach, dripping precum and staining the sheets beneath him.
“Are you okay?” Jongdae murmured. He hadn’t started to move yet, for which
Zitao was glad. He needed a moment to adjust.
“Y-yeah. Just ... just hold on ... I need to ...”
“It’s okay. I can wait.”
Jongdae sounded rather calm and collected. Zitao envied his self-control;
comparitively, he must’ve looked pathetic propped up on shaking arms, sweat
dripping from his forehead as he endeavored to let himself get used to the
feeling of having someone else inside him. It took a few moments, but finally
Zitao felt the burn subside and he relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Okay,” he whispered, “I’m okay. You can move.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Jongdae nodded and straightened, his hands still on Zitao’s hips as he started
to move. The pace was slow at first, but that was more for Zitao’s sake than
Jongdae’s own and he knew it.
Zitao let out soft, confused sounds every time Jongdae pulled out and pushed
back in. He wasn’t used to the feeling and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Did it feel good? Bad? He didn’t know. Mostly, Zitao was focusing on not
letting his trembling arms collapse under his weight.
“God, Zitao,” Jongdae said, his voice breathy and strained. Zitao’s dick jumped
in response as he realized he was the reason Jongdae sounded so wrecked.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” The older male reached up to grab a handful of
Zitao’s blond hair, tugging on it as he picked up the rythym, and Zitao’s voice
rose an entire octave in response.
I want this to last forever.
Out of nowhere, Jongdae abruptly pulled out and shoved Zitao onto his back,
causing the younger male to yelp in surprise. Then Jongdae spread his legs and
sank back into him without preamble and he understood. Jongdae wanted to see
him—he wanted to watch the way Zitao’s expressions changed as he reached the
edge and toppled over, he wanted to watch him fall apart at the seams.
Jongdae was moving faster now, spurred on by the tension in the air and the
pleasure enveloping them both. Sweat was dripping off the ends of his hair and
his eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide as the sounds of skin-on-skin filled
the bedroom, replacing whatever silence there had been with Zitao’s soft moans
and Jongdae’s labored breaths.
“I’m ... I’m close,” Jongdae gasped.
“Me too.”
Jongdae licked his lips. “Touch yourself.”
Zitao obeyed without hesitation, wrapping a hand around his cock and matching
pace with Jongdae. The drag was rough at first, but the copious amounts of
precum leaking from his slit helped with that, and pretty soon Zitao was biting
down on his lower lip, his chest stuttering with stunted breaths as he pushed
himself closer and closer to the edge.
“Zitao,” Jongdae murmured, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of
Zitao’s neck as he continued to fuck the younger male into the mattress. Every
movement had Zitao’s voice breaking, shattering across moans that he tried
desperately to keep quiet even though he knew they were the only ones in the
house, and his control only continued to crack when Jongdae drew his tongue
along the outline of Zitao’s collarbone.
“Shit, Jongdae, I’m ... fuck ...”
Jongdae pulled back and Zitao had a moment to glimpse the older male’s eyes
flashing red once more, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he reached
down and smacked Zitao’s hand away to jerk him off himself. Zitao cried out in
response, his back bowing off the bed as his orgasm washed over him and swept
away everything else. He vaguely registered Jongdae’s voice off in the
distance, gasping in pleasure as he came too.
Then it was over. 
Zitao couldn’t breathe. He felt lightheaded and drained, as if all the life had
just been sucked out of him. His vision was going dark at the corners and he
knew he was going to pass out if he didn’t do something. Desperate, he tried to
move, tried to tell Jongdae something was wrong, but the older male held him
down, laughing as he leaned down to whisper in his ear.
“Now you are reborn.”
Then Zitao’s vision went dark and he knew no more.
 
 
When Zitao woke up, it was morning.
He was lying in Jongdae’s bed, curled beneath the covers. His underwear and
pants had been put back on, albeit somewhat haphazardly, and sunlight was
streaming through the window adjacent him. Groaning, Zitao pushed himself into
a sitting position and stretched his arms above his head. He was sore.
Everywhere.Zitao rubbed his hands over his face and got up, hissing a bit at
the pain that shot up his spine.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
That was Jongdae, walking out of the bathroom. He was wearing a pair of dark
jeans that were slung low on his hips and a plain, black tee, and his hair was
wet. Zitao ran his fingers through his own hair, pausing as everything came
back to him in a rush: the hair-dyeing party, the movie, Jongdae kissing him,
touching him, moving inside of him.
Jongdae whispering in his ear.
Now you are reborn.
“It’s still kind of early, so we have time to laze around before school,”
Jongdae continued. “Do you need to take a shower?”
“Yeah, I should. I’m kind of ... gross.”
“Ugh, I know. We both fell asleep so fast last night that we didn’t really get
a chance to clean up.” Jongdae grinned. “I’m going to have to wash my sheets,
too.”
“Ah, sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize.” Jongdae stepped closer, trailing a finger along Zitao’s
jawline. “I had fun.”
Zitao’s mouth went dry. “M-me too.”
“Good.”
They stood there a few moments longer, staring at each other, until Jongdae
turned away. “You should go get that shower now. I’ll make some breakfast so
you can eat when you’re done.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course.” Something unidentifiable glinted in Jongdae’s dark eyes and Zitao
averted his gaze, moving instead to grab a change of clothes from his backpack
as he headed to the bathroom.
It was relatively easy to figure out the shower controls. Zitao turned the
water on and let it heat up, using the time to look at himself in the mirror.
He felt so different. Last night he had been a brunet and a virgin; now he was
neither. His blond hair stood out in stark contrast against his pale skin and
dark eyes. He’d thought it would look weird when his eyebrows were still dark,
but it didn’t. In fact, Zitao liked the way it looked.
He stared at himself in the mirror and wondered if he’d imagined things when
Jongdae’s eyes had flashed red.
The shower only took a few minutes. Zitao finished as fast as he could and got
dressed before heading downstairs, his head swimming with the delicious smell
of food that was filling the air. Jongdae had cooked up some eggs and bacon,
and they feasted by themselves at the kitchen’s bar, talking and laughing. 
Before they left for school, Jongdae convinced Zitao to let him apply some
black eyeliner around his eyes. Zitao liked the way it looked compared to his
blond hair and the earring in his left ear. He felt sort of like he was
officially a part of Jongdae’s group now, like he’d been accepted.
They walked to school because Jongdae didn’t like taking the bus. He told Zitao
that his parents were already gone by the time he got up most mornings, and he
didn’t like driving their gaudy, conspicuous cars to school, so he preferred to
walk. Zitao didn’t mind. That meant they got more time alone. Jongdae kept
linking their arms together and gesturing animatedly as he spoke, and Zitao
smiled as he realized he felt content.
It felt nice to belong.
When they got to school, Zitao noticed a lot of people staring at him. He
probably would’ve shied away from it before, but now he didn’t because he knew
why they stared: his blond hair and the fact that he and Jongdae were
practically glued together at the hip were new to everyone else. He bet there
were already rumors circulating around the school about how they were fucking.
Zitao grinned and wished he could tell everyone that was the truth.
At lunch, Amber apologized for her and Kyungsoo having to cancel. She said it
was something personal. Jongdae threw Zitao a conspiratorial grin and cackled
into his sandwich.
“I really like your hair, by the way,” Amber told Zitao, “I knew it’d look good
on you.”
Zitao smiled and ducked his head. “Thanks.”
“And what about mine?” Jongdae demanded.
“Yours looks amazing too, Jongdae, as usual.”
“Why, thank you.”
Kyungsoo smiled softly and said nothing.
The rest of the school day was quite uneventful. Zitao only had one class left,
as per the usual, after which he and Jongdae were going to hang out at his
house again. Zitao was looking forward to it so much that he ended up zoning
out during his last class. When the bell finally rang, the sound was so sudden
and unexpected that Zitao nearly fell out of his chair.
A bit embarrassed and hoping no one had seen that, Zitao gathered up his things
and headed out of the classroom.
“Hey, Huang Zitao, right?”
Zitao turned at the sound of his name, confused as he saw one of the
upperclassmen approaching him. The guy was tall and lanky with short, black
hair and prominent ears. Zitao had seen him around; he usually smiled a lot.
But right now he just looked worried. “Uh, yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”
“Sorry. I’m Park Chanyeol.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Zitao frowned. “Um, did you need something?”
“Actually, yes.” Chanyeol frowned. “You’re kind of new at this school, right?”
“... Right.”
“And I noticed that you’ve been hanging around with Kim Jongdae a lot.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Zitao raised an eyebrow. “Well I don’t think it’s any of your business.” He
turned to go, but Chanyeol grabbed his arm before he could, stopping him. 
“You don’t know because you haven’t been here long enough,” the upperclassmen
said, his voice low and hurried, “But Jongdae isn’t ... he isn’t good, okay?
People avoid him for a reason.”
Zitao tensed, the want to defend Jongdae rising up inside him. “Hey, look,
Jongdae may be a little rough around the edges, but that doesn’t mean he’s not
a good person.”
“Do good people murder teachers they don’t like and make it look like an
accident?”
“I ... what?”
“Last year, there was a teacher who tried to stop Jongdae from smoking on the
school grounds. He was dead the next day; his car’s brakes stopped working and
he drove off a bridge.”
“So? That has nothing to do with Jongdae.”
“Yes it does.” Chanyeol’s eyes were wild now; manic. “You shouldn’t be around
him, Zitao. He’s a devil-worshipper.”
Zitao yanked himself from the upperclassmen’s grasp. “You’re insane.”
“Hey, Tao!”
That was Jongdae, standing at the school’s entrance and waving at him. Upon
noticing him, Chanyeol gasped and took a few steps back, looking terrified, but
Zitao couldn’t find it in himself to care. 
“You’re insane,” he said again, softer this time as he turned to go to Jongdae.
Devil-worshipper? Really? That’s what he went with? Those rumors were probably
just from stuck-up snobs who think they’re better than Jongdae because he
smokes and has tattoos. Assholes. 
“What was that about?” Jongdae wondered as Zitao got closer. “Was that
upperclassmen bothering you?”
Zitao shrugged. “I think he was just playing a prank on me.”
“A prank?”
“Yeah, he was saying some really weird stuff, telling me I needed to stay away
from you or something.”
“Away from me? Why?”
“He said you were a devil-worshipper.”
Jongdae laughed and the sound had Zitao relaxing, the tense anger in his chest
disappating into dust. “Seriously? God, I’ve heard everything from psychopath
to faggot, but devil-worshipper is definitely new. And brilliant.” Jongdae
shook his head, still chuckling. “Ah, I’ve exceeded my own expectations.”
Zitao couldn’t help but smile. Jongdae didn’t seem to care what people thought
about him, so that meant Zitao shouldn’t care either. He endeavored to do just
that as they walked back to Jongdae’s house together. By the time they reached
it, all thoughts of Park Chanyeol and devil-worshippers were gone.
“Oh, there’s a party tonight, by the way,” Jongdae said. He and Zitao were
sitting in his room, lounging on the newly-washed sheets on his bed. “Amber
told me about it earlier.”
“A party?”
“Yeah, just a bunch of people we know from school and whatnot, drinking and
dancing and hanging out. Want to go?”
Zitao shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’d be nice to have something to do on a
Friday night for once.”
“Awesome.”
“I’ll just have to call my mom and let her know.”
“Sure, sure. The party’s not until eleven, so I’ll cook up something for dinner
in the meantime.”
“Okay.” Zitao dug his phone out of his backpack and got ready to call his mom,
only to hesitate. He knew she was working, and she usually worked late on
Friday nights. He could just call her later when he knew she’d be home.
Zitao put his phone away and headed downstairs to help Jongdae with dinner.
The older male was making something that smelled delicious, humming softly to
himself as he did, and Zitao paused outside the kitchen to watch for a moment.
Jongdae seemed so at home as he cooked, so sure of himself. Zitao wondered if
cooking was something he loved to do.
“Did you call your mom?” Jongdae wondered, surprising Zitao.
“Uh, no. She’s at work. I’ll call her later.”
“Oh, okay. Mind helping me out, then?”
“Not at all.”
Zitao helped Jongdae prepare dinner—Chinese style stir-fry and a simple soup on
the side—and stayed silent for the most part as he listened to Jongdae ramble
on and on about a variety of things: classes, teachers, fellow students,
homework. Zitao liked to listen to him talk. Jongdae had an odd lilt to his
voice that made it sound melodic, as if he were singing the words he spoke.
When they’d finished cooking and sat down at the kitchen bar to eat, however,
Zitao decided to voice the question that had been on his mind since the night
before.
“Are your parents ever home?”
Jongdae paused just as he was about to take a bite of food, his shoulders
slumping such a tiny fraction of an inch that Zitao almost didn’t notice. “...
No, they’re not. When I wake up in the morning, they’re gone, and by the time
they get home, I’m asleep. Some nights they stay at hotels rather than come
here.”
Zitao frowned. “Why?”
“They don’t like me.” Jongdae shrugged. “I’m not sure what I did, but out of
nowhere one day they just started ignoring me. I mean, they never told me
outright that they didn’t like me, but I could see it in their eyes. And I
could hear it in the exasperated tones they adopted when I tried to talk to
them.”
“God, Jongdae, I ... I’m sorry.”
Jongdae shook his head and smiled, but it looked strained around the edges.
“Don’t worry about it. I have a place to sleep and food to eat and clothes to
wear, so it’s not a big deal. Besides, I’m used to it now.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay.”
“... I know.” Jongdae stared down at his food. “I know.”
After that, Zitao quickly changed the subject and didn’t mention Jongdae’s
parents again. 
When seven o’ clock rolled around, he called his mother and told her he was
going to hang out with friends and stay with Jongdae again. She wished him well
and told him to have fun. Zitao felt somewhat guilty leaving her alone for the
second night in a row, but one look at Jongdae had him forgetting that guilt
immediately.
She’ll be fine.
They wasted time until the party. Jongdae introduced Zitao to a type of
cigarette called Black Djarum, even though he said, multiple times, that the
Black Devil brand was his favorite. Zitao liked the Djarum cigarettes well
enough, but he agreed with Jongdae. There was something enticing about Black
Devils.
Around eleven, they left the house. Jongdae had insisted on doing Zitao’s hair
and fixing the black eyeliner he’d applied that morning. He also had Zitao
wearing some of his clothes—tight, black leather pants, a loose, black tank,
and a leather jacket overtop. Jongdae, of course, was decked out in his normal
red and black attire. He looked amazing.
“You look really nice in those,” Jongdae said as they walked down the street.
He had another Devil to his lips, its end smoking slightly. “I like you in my
clothes, though I also like you out of them.”
Zitao felt his face heat up. “Thanks.”
“You know, if it weren’t for this party, I’d be fucking you into the mattress
right now.”
It took all of Zitao’s well to resist turning around and taking Jongdae up on
that offer. “Well,” he said instead, “It is Friday night. We don’t have
anywhere to be tomorrow so I’m sure we’ll have time for that later.”
Jongdae laughed. “I like the way you think.”
The party was at the house of some upperclassmen that Zitao didn’t know. It
wasn’t as big a house as Jongdae’s, but it was still of substantial size. The
entire front yard was full of high-schoolers talking and laughing, holding cups
full of what Zitao assumed was beer. Inside, it was very similar, only there
was loud music playing above it all, pounding out a repetitive bassline that
had Zitao’s ears ringing within moments.
He and Jongdae ran into Amber and Kyungsoo at one point, but the two only
lingered for a few moments before they disappeared into the crowd. Jongdae
shrugged as if that were normal and started leading Zitao through the house,
but  Zitao had already realized that he wasn’t impressed by the party at all.
If it weren’t for Jongdae, he wouldn’t have even bothered to go.
“This isn’t really your type of thing, is it?” Jongdae asked, having to yell to
be heard over the pounding music.
“No, not really,” Zitao admitted.
‘Then why’d you come?”
“... Because you wanted to.”
A grin slid over Jongdae’s face. Zitao felt the older male grab his hand,
threading their fingers together, and his heart stuttered at the contact.
“Thanks, then,” Jongdae said. “It’s nice to have someone to be around in a big
crowd like this.”
Zitao nodded and didn’t say anything. He was felt too nervous to speak. Even
though he and Jongdae had done so much together, the fact that Jongdae was
holding his hand had his heart doing backflips in his chest and it was stupid. 
“I’ll be right back,” Jongdae said suddenly, “I have to use the restroom.”
“Okay.”
“Why don’t you get yourself a drink while I’m gone? You need to loosen up.”
Jongdae slipped away before Zitao could reply, melting into the sea of people
inside the house, and Zitao decided that getting a drink sounded like a good
idea. He wasn’t exactly a big alcohol drinker—the most he’d ever had were small
sips of his grandparents’ wine at holiday dinners—but everyone else was
drinking it, and Jongdae was right. He needed to relax.
A little while later, with a beer in his hand and quite a substantial amount in
his system, Zitao felt a lot better. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t liked the
party earlier; the song in the background was so nice and the crush of people
around him made him feel wanted, accepted, like he’d been inducted into a group
of people he’d never had access to in any of his previous schools.
Zitao stumbled around for a little under half an hour, tipsy and unbalanced and
lost in the crowd, before he finally realized that Jongdae had been in the
bathroom a really long time. Confused, he somehow managed to find the nearest
bathroom, but it was occupied by a couple making out against the sink. 
... If he’s not here, then where is he?
Worried now, Zitao searched the rest of the house, but Jongdae was nowhere to
be found. The only logical conclusion at that point was that he had gone
outside. But why? He had no reason to go outside unless, of course, he was
looking for Zitao too and they just kept missing each other.
That made sense to Zitao’s muddled mind, so he made his way outside, feeling a
lot less disoriented in the cool, night air. There were fewer people out here
and the noise had considerably lessened as well. Zitao took a deep breath and
felt better.
“Jongdae?” he called, wandering away from the house. He hadn’t really paid
attention to the surroundings much when they’d first arrived at the party, but
he noticed now that the house was a bit out-of-the-way. He supposed that made
sense; no one wanted to get caught drinking and smoking when most of them were
underaged high-schoolers. 
The area around the house was mostly empty, with long stretches of road in
either direction, but there was also a densely wooded area off to the left.
Zitao felt the strangest urge to go that way and decided to follow it without
really thinking the action through.
The weight of his decision hit him as he walked deeper into the forest,
however. It was dark there, even darker than it had been before now that he
didn’t have the light of the stars and the moon. Zitao found himself having to
feel around just to make sure he didn’t run into anything. In any other
situation, he knew he would’ve turned and gone back, maybe even gone home. But
something was spurring him onward. Something was telling him to continue.
So Zitao obeyed, all the while feeling as if he was making a very important
choice.
Eventually, the woods started to thin out. Zitao wasn’t sure how long he’d been
walking; it hadn’t felt like that long, but he couldn’t hear the sounds of the
party behind him anymore. They’d faded into the distance a while ago. Now there
were only the sounds of the night: a silence accompanied by a gentle breeze
that did very little to loosen the odd tightness in Zitao’s throat.
Moments later, Zitao emerged into a clearing, one that was surrounded on all
sides by the forest. He wasn’t sure how he’d found his way there. All he knew
was that Jongdae was standing in the middle of the clearing, and nothing was
making sense anymore.
“Jongdae ...?” Zitao called as he stepped forward, unsure. “Jongdae, what are
you doing?”
The older male turned at the sound of his name, his face bleached white in the
light of the half-moon above him. Across his lips was a wicked grin, gruesome
and terrifying and nothing like the Jongdae he knew at all, and Zitao took a
step back, unnerved.
“Don’t be afraid, Zitao,” Jongdae murmured, and Zitao gasped as he realized
that something was leaking from the corner of his mouth—some sort of thick,
dark liquid.
That was when he noticed the body.
There was a body at Jongdae’s feet, twisted and mangled beyond all measure, but
the face was still recognizable. Zitao had to crane his neck to see, but once
he did, he felt terror rise up in his throat like bile.
It was Park Chanyeol, the upperclassmen Zitao had spoken to earlier that very
same day. The one who’d warned him to stay away from Jongdae. Devil-worshipper,
he’d said, hinting at Jongdae’s involvement in the death of that teacher.
Devil-worshipper. And Zitao looked into Jongade’s eyes and knew it was true.
Jongdae’s eyes were red.
“Oh my God,” he gasped, stumbling back, “Jongdae, what ... what have you done?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You killedhim!”
Jongdae glanced down at Chanyeol’s body. “Oh, yeah. That. He was pissing me
off.”
“You can’t kill people because they pissed you off!”
The older male grinned, wicked and terrifying. “Can’t I?”
“You’re insane!”
“No, I am not. I know exactly what I’m doing.” Jongdae started forward, his
eyes dark with promise, and Zitao’s breath got caught in his throat. Scared out
of his wits, he backpedaled, wishing he’d never gone into the woods, wishing
he’d never followed his gut, wishing he’d never gone to that school or met
Jongdae or smoked his cigarettes. I wish, I wish. Jongdae continued towards
him, slow and predatory, and Zitao felt tears come to his eyes.
“No,” he gasped, “No, please ... please, don’t kill me.”
Jongdae hesitated. “Kill you?”
“I won’t tell anyone, I swear!”
“Why would I kill you.”
“I swear, I—wait, what?”
“I have no reason to kill you, Zitao.”
Zitao stopped and stared, thoroughly confused. “You ... you don’t?”
Jongdea laughed suddenly, the sound brisk and harsh and so unlike the lilting
melody Zitao had grown used to. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Wh-what?”
“There’s a reason I felt connected to you, Zitao.” Jongdae stepped closer.
“There’s a reason why I befriended you on your first day. There’s a reason why
I pulled you towards me and had you obey my every command.”
There were tears in Zitao’s eyes, but he wasn’t focusing on them anymore. “I
... I don’t understand.”
“I have a darkness within me, Zitao. You can see it in my eyes.” As if
emphasizing the point, Jongdae’s eyes flashed red again, mirroring the blood
dripping from Chanyeol’s lifeless corpse. “And you have that same darkness
within you.”
“... No ... no, you’re insane.”
“Don’t deny it. You know it’s the truth.”
Zitao shook his head, taking another step back and clenching his eyes shut. He
had his fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at it, tugging at it. The voice in
his head, the one that had told him to trust Jongdae, to give all of himself to
Jongdae, he could feel it there again. But it was more than a voice. It was a
prescence, dark and all-encompassing and so unlike his own consciousness.
Terrified, Zitao tried to fight it, tried to pull away as it began envelope
him.
Then it settled, and Zitao went still.
It was a familiar prescence, he realized. It had been with him all his life,
comforting him when he felt alone and picking him up when he needed help. It
was his friend and Zitao accepted it now, welcomed it, even, as it consumed
him.
When Zitao opened his eyes again, he was no longer afraid.
“You’re ... not going to kill me,” he said.
Jongdae smiled, the wind ruffling his hair, and took Zitao’s hand. “Of course
not. We don’t kill our own."

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