Dear • for • the • Devils || OT7

Straight into the middle of the fire

Ain’t no slowing down

Burn it all, endure it, only

I desire the red sun that is you

Every day, I’m losing the focus of reason

Taken over daily by the fever of instinct

’Cause I got no time, I’m melting down

I’m all sweaty, there’s no moderation

If I hold onto you and turn into smoke

Teach me how to burn out going through the flames

The sin of coveting the sun

Even if I turn to ash, I don’t care

If it’s just for your loveI would weather any form

You, who colors everything red

Stepping into this place was was a mistake from the start

The forbidden fruit must be destroyed before my eyes

Dear for the devils

「Ĥ̸͍Ê̵̫’̸̩̕Ṡ̸̹ ̷̰͝A̷̖͝ ̷̭̈́M̵̪̅O̶̖͝Ǹ̷̦Š̶̘T̶͎̐Ė̷̤Ṛ̴͝!̴͕̽」

「W̵̭͒H̴̼͗Y̴͍͊ ̵̼̄Ỉ̴̖S̶͈̊ ̷̥̓H̶͉͐E̴̪̍ ̶͚̃S̶̜̉T̵̳̾I̵̖̓L̸̰̕L̴̝͑ ̷͇̚H̶̜̆E̷̥͊R̴̯̂Ẻ̴̠!̸͍͛?̶̦̈́」

「S̴͈̎ō̸͇m̵̫̉e̴̬̊o̴͚͝n̶̩̕e̷͍̒ ̵̘̄š̵̢h̵̬̾o̸̮͒u̷̖̍l̵̯̽d̶̙͗ ̷̧͝k̴͖̐ỉ̶̞ĺ̷̟l̸̠͝ ̴̝̉h̷̤̾i̴̻̓m̴̞̓」

「H̵͆͜͠e̸͍͑’̸͎̦̀s̷̰̘̾̓ ̴̤͂̔a̸̡̙̐ ̸̠͆̕f̴͈̈ú̴̜̉c̵͓̮̊k̵̘͙̉̎i̷̯͋n̵̬͑́g̶̝̞͛ ̵̠̄̄ť̶̠h̷̦͆̀͜r̴̟͐ë̶̙̗́á̴̧͓̓t̷͈̭̂」

̷̨̉͗「H̴͚͎̀̕e̵̟͝’̴̐͜s̶̤͇̔ ̸̧̖̔s̶̹̝̑o̴̗͊̕͜ ̸͈̠͂́d̶͙̈́i̴̘̔s̵͍̅̏ͅg̴̬̽͝ͅű̷̌ͅs̴͂͜t̵̯̞͋̒ỉ̵͓̘͝n̸̹͒g̵̹̭̋…̸̦̳̾」

「A̸̹͚̎r̷͓̬̈́̃ë̸̫́̈͜n̷̬̤̓’̵͈̘̐t̵̢̆͂ ̷͖̰͝y̴̨̡͆̅o̴̗͌u̴̜̇̆ ̶͈̬͊a̷̩͑̊ṡ̷̝h̵͈̓á̷͚̫͠m̴̭̼̐͛e̸̘̳͐d̵̰̗͆?̶̱̀͝ͅ」

「Í̵̙̠͈̻͂̍͜t̴̳̓̀͊ ̴̯̻͎̥͕̿̋́w̶͚̜̗̿o̷̧̬̟̲̻̊̀̍̔͘ų̶̻͚͈̅̊͆͊̚ͅl̴̨̛̛͈̖̼̆̓̔ď̶͎͚͕̯̄̔͊̕ ̵̘̱͋̓̃̌ḇ̵̢̰̻̲͋͋e̵̱̒͝ ̸̬̇̇̆̀͝s̶̘̥̥͍̾̕͜o̷̢͌ ̵͇̝̮̳̼̎m̶͔̩͒͐̒͝ú̴̡̜̫̱̙c̸̢̧̭̙͒h̷̯͇͔̗̦͊͊͛̆͠ ̶̣͊̇̆̉ȩ̷͖̞́̄̇͑̚ā̴̘̘͝ś̸͓̓̂̐͋ï̷̘͎͎̈́͐e̸̢͖͔͛́͌͘ř̶̢̟̼̀̽ ̵̙̍̊̿́͜i̶͆̈͛͑ͅf̶̞̗̼̩͇̔͛ ̴̡̘̝̭̔ͅt̶̼̤̫̮̞̀̓̎h̷͉̗̼̯̐̎͐͘͠e̵̢̛͆̂̈́̕y̵͈͕͉͌̄̕ ̷̘͕̻͔͍̉̏̽͗k̵̘̱͇̫͓̑̈͌͘i̷̡̢͈̗͑͐͐̽̎l̶̤̩̗̰̈́̉l̷̙̯̪̂̎ë̸̢̩̱̠́ḋ̸̢̛̛͕͖̲͕̿͋ ̴͓̜͗̉͑͋̾h̶̺̠̯̟̽͐͛̔͜ĭ̵͙͕̂̈́ḿ̵͇͒͝」

「Ẅ̸͙̜̜́̌h̶̳̪̤͚̽̄̈́͆̊ÿ̵͉͖̖̬́̀̌ ̸̞̈́̔t̷͈̍̿ḣ̴̢͉͈̠͍̐͗̊̓e̵͓̻̠̱̙͌͑̈́̄ ̷̨̺̖̰̼̌̾̒̃h̴̥͉̱̍e̸͖̭̥̓l̸͈͑̾l̷͚̩̂ ̷̺̻̫̟̲̋̊̓͘d̸̹͚́̃̚o̵̬̜̞̬̐̏̌̃n̶͇̩̠̘̂̂̓̀’̷̈́͒͜t̸̮̫̦͖̞̊̿̐̂ ̴̖̯͓͜͠ý̴͙̩͛́ͅŏ̷͖̞͊͠u̵̡̳͊̀̏ ̶̥͇͊͑͐̏j̷̡̛̳̬͈̬̓͑͘͘u̸̺̿̎̆̔͝s̵̪̦̉́̕̚t̴̨̕ ̸͖̿d̴͇̓̿̔́ḯ̶͖̖͚͝s̴̞̺͔̉́̂̇͜͜a̸̠̞̩̱̽͋̏͝p̴̟̼̫͎͖̅͋͌p̷̭̭͖̃̔͐͜e̸̘̙̪͗̕a̸̢͉̓̀̾̔r̵̪̫͊͛͗́̚?̵̱̭̬̬̄̇̆͝͠」

̵̨͓̞̌̈͌̍͠「W̵̭̥̰̅̑h̸͚̐͋͆̓͝y̵̧̲͖͍͘ ̵̠͛͗d̶̢͇́̐̒o̶̙̗̮̽̆n̷͕͐̃’̸͉̙̤̂̐̚t̵̢̝̰͓͊ ̴̮̜̺̞͑̍y̴͙͙̅͑̏̌͝ö̴̖͉̍͛ͅų̴͍̠̬̐͝ ̶͙̣̔j̷̨͖̎͆̇̾u̸͓̼̰̻̐́͂̕s̸͕͗ṯ̸͖̬͇͐̔͝͝ ̷͍̆̕ṥ̸̙͙̻̙̜̅ţ̵̡̰̮̽o̴̡̘͈̐̈́͗͆̊p̸͚͕̹͙̪͐̂ ̸̟͈̒t̶̡͇̝͑͒o̷̜̯̬̎̅̇͝r̶͖̻̄͑t̷̡̛͌̓̒ụ̷͔͂̈̈́͆ṟ̸̻̌͋̀́i̴̦͋̐̐͋n̵͔͕̞̎ĝ̵̡͎͖̾͂͝ ̶͇̙͗͂̓m̶͍̳̙̠̆́͝e̷̺͛̌̀͘ ̴̡͕̥̰̠̈́͛́̒ā̴͈̪̫̳͎̓ṇ̸̨̜͙̈̊̐̏̽d̸͎̭̅ ̵͔͎͝ͅd̸̜̫̮͍̰͂͐̈̾i̶̛̥̋̅͑ẽ̵͍̖̪.̶̯̞̎͑.̵͚̤͉͍̺͒.̴̡͉̼̪̺̕?̵̢̨͎̜͔̾̌̎̑」

His hands are black.

His claws are small.

His fangs grow without permission.

His eyes are violet...

Or at least they usually are.

“Mom, can I be as pretty as you?”

He looks up, trying to see her face, but he can’t make it out. Obscured, blurry. Maybe a smile. Mothers smile at their children. He takes in their words too, watching their mouths move. She must say yes. She also says she loves him. Different from the people outside who always point at him for his strange eyes.

For the color of his hands.

For his fangs.

People outside always see him as weird and he doesn’t know why they are like that.

It’s so strange. So complicated.

He wished everything were kinder, that they were less aggressive and above all, that he could have a life like the rest of the people in town.

Why do they hate me…?

I want them to love me...

✧ ･* I *･:ﾟ✧

“You look like you saw a ghost. Why is that terrified expression?”

He backs abruptly until he hits the wall. He breathes heavily, eyes wide open, jaw clenched, controlling his trembling. The man in front of him chuckles, straightening. He has a light tan, long hair tied over his shoulder and a long black jacket that covers most of his clothes. He feels the wall, moving slowly along it.

“Well? Why are you so scared, Jimin? Is there a ghost here?”

“W-who are you...? Why...?”

Jimin grimaces, his head throbbing. He doesn’t know who he is, nor where he is or why he’s here. Jimin remembers walking down the street, trying to use his phone, while also trying to find the school he’ll attend.

Jimin had the feeling he was being followed, so he wandered around more than necessary.

In one second, a man? A teenager? A tattooed person was standing in front of him.

The next, everything was black.

And now he’s with a man he doesn’t know, he looks like the main villain of an anime. So: a bad sign. Jimin lets out a deep breath and shakes his head. The other puts a hand on his chest.

“I’m Kim Nam-Joon. Nice to see you again.” Jimin grimaces. Again? “It’s impossible for you to remember me. You were just a baby then” Jimin leans closer to the wall, even though there’s two meters separating him from Namjoon. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting so long for this day.”

“I don’t understand,” Jimin says clearly and Namjoon laughs, tilting his head.

“Why don’t I find it strange...? Your mother had one job and couldn’t handle it. That woman’s head has been a mess” Jimin grimaces. Does his mother know about this? “Anyway: you have nothing to worry about. You’re safe and where you belong.”

Namjoon says it so simply.

And Jimin still doesn’t understand a thing.

Namjoon reaches out to him. “Shall we? Staying here is a waste of time. You need to see your room, the house and get to know the others.”

He feels his skin go cold. The others? Are there other people here? Giant house? Instead of taking his hand, Jimin walks straight to the window he managed to locate. He opens it and screams in terror, slammed shut and Namjoon leans against his back, holding his wrist.

“To go down, you go through the door, not the window,” he says directly into Jimin’s ear, who blanches and gasps for air. “Come on,” Namjoon incites and slowly steps away.

Jimin struggles to breathe, looking him up and down. He suddenly looks taller than before. More dangerous. His teeth chatter and his head, chest and stomach ache; his gloved hands are sweating. He walks with difficulty, barely noticing his surroundings: the enormous, almost Victorian house, ostentatious decorations, large windows, paintings of different people, but still the same six faces.

A strange smell makes him tense up even more and his panicked gasp is met with a laugh. “How cute he is in person! So tiny! And he smells so good!” Jimin doesn’t get a chance to say anything, trapped in Namjoon’s embrace. The grown man takes him under the chin and directs him toward what’s in front of him:

A group of five people, all with curious, red eyes, as well as expressions of excitement, disbelief and anticipation.

“Meet your brothers,” Namjoon announces and Jimin grimaces. Brothers? “Seokjin,” the one with big shoulders, pastel pink hair and fluffy lips, winks and blows a kiss. “Yoongi,” he squints his eyes: small, red and curly, black hair with violet streaks. Hoseok, the red-haired, freckled one, exclaims, waving with a huge smile and waving his hands. “Taehyung,” the one with a shrug and a square smile, his blond hair swept back to one side, is the only one with rings, necklaces and other accessories. “And Jungkook... although you’ve seen him before.” Jimin breathes heavily: he’s the one he saw on the street, before everything turned black. He has long, black and blue hair and several piercings. He wrinkles his nose when he smiles. Jimin would say he’s the most excited of all. Jin gets up from his seat and approaches, arms crossed.

“He really does exist. I was starting to think you were lying to us, ’Dad,’” he jokes, poking his cheek. “He doesn’t look like I expected though... he’s cuter.” Jin leans in and Jimin tries to break free. “Something tells me he’s stubborn.”

“He’s stubborn, but nothing we can’t handle,” Namjoon states nonchalantly. “As I was saying, Jimin,” he raises his face, “they’re your brothers now. So be nice to them... Don’t worry, they’re not allowed to bite you for a week. By then, I guess we’ll be done organizing.”

“A week? Biting? What are you talking about? Who are all of you?! WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!” he demands, on the verge of tears from frustration and confusion.

None of this makes sense.

Namjoon’s smile widens, his eyes narrowed. Enraptured by the younger boy’s panic and bewilderment, he presses him a little closer.

“You’re so sweet, Little One,” Namjoon hisses. “Yes, I was a little unfair to you, but that’s the excitement. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” The confusion only deepens in Jimin’s eyes. “All six of us.”

“We’ve been dying of boredom, waiting for almost a century,” Yoongi complains quietly, leaning back on the couch.

“It was less than a century,” Hoseok corrects him. Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It felt like millennia. How boring it was,” Taehyung complains. Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Namjoon lets go of Jimin’s face and picks him up, still hugging him from behind. “Do you recognize what we are?”

“Vampires,” Jimin replies.

“And do you know what vampires want?”

“Blood.”

Namjoon laughs, touched.

“No. A heart,” he gently corrects and Jimin grimaces. “Ours doesn’t beat. The blood in our veins is cold, frozen in time and our heart is nothing more than a crystal that can be extracted, exchanged, or modified... we don’t have a heart.” The grip tightens, a hand pressed against his chest. “But you’re different, because even when you have the poison in your veins... your heart beats.”

Jimin exhales, tense and nervous, feeling like Namjoon is going to pierce his chest, the force of the pressure. He’s pushed back to the ground and as soon as he has the chance, he backs away from him.

From them.

Trying to get to the door. Even though he pulls it, it doesn’t open and when he turns around, he has Namjoon almost on top of him again, leaning toward him. Jimin’s lips tremble and he presses his hands behind his back.

“You are very dear to us, even if you don’t know it or understand it... Don’t worry about anything,” he strokes his thumb over the side of Jimin’s cheek. “No one can hurt you- no one can make you sad again. You’re okay here, you’re safe and you’ll be very...”

“Are you crazy?”

Namjoon straightens and shakes his head.

“Maybe you’ll be if you keep interrupting me when I’m talking or try to use a door... or a window again.”

Jimin freezes, stiff, tense. Namjoon chuckles and clasps his hands behind his back.

“Ask them what’s everything you need, since you don’t want to know it from me.”

Jimin stammers and Namjoon disappears, blending into a shadow. He looks at the others, who give him anxious, indiscreet glances. Before he tries to open the door again, he’s yanked by the arm, grabbed by the back of the neck and his lips pressed against the pierced vampire’s.

“Jungkook! It’s not fair!”

Jimin hits him, trying to break free, but Jungkook grips him tighter, invading his mouth and biting him in the process, making him bleed. Jimin squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath as he pulls away. Jungkook laughs, “Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin finally bursts into tears. Where is he?

“This is your room! Kookie and I decorated it. Do you like it?”

Jimin doesn’t answer. He barely looks around the room. Hoseok seems the least “weird,” even if he smiles a lot.

“Where are we?”

“Geographically? Korea. Specifically? Incheon, ten minutes from Seoul.” Jimin bites his lip.

“Why am I here?”

“Ask Namjoon! He knows the details. He’s the one who decided you should come—that

we

should all come. He’s the one in charge,” Hoseok clarifies, ending up putting his arm around his shoulders. “He’s very affectionate, don’t worry.”

“And don’t you know how I could get…?”

“Don’t… even think about it.”

The change in expression chills his blood. He went from smiling to a serious, chilling and threatening expression. Hoseok leans toward him and whispers in his ear,

“I’ll be the first to break your leg if I find out you tried to leave. I’m being nice to you, be grateful.”

As Hoseok pull away, he smiles again and Jimin nods slightly, scared. Hoseok leaves, waving goodbye with a huge smile. Left alone, surrounded by his suitcases in the ostentatious room, Jimin feels his body giving out. He slumps and lies on the floor, clutching his stomach.

His fangs grow.

His eyes glow.

His hands burn.

This...

This isn’t happening.