Jongin sat in a recliner chair, his feet outstretched on the uncomfortably comfortable cushioned seat. His hands sat in his lap while he was looking up at the white ceiling with little carvings in it that resembled something similar to the sea, or anything else he could think of if he examined through it thoroughly enough.

“I see you’ve taken interest in the ceiling,” Junmyeon noticed, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “That or you were simply bored? I had it done just for you.”

Jongin’s head turned to the therapist, “Dr. Kim.” He greeted, smiling at doctor, “I like white, but my favorite color’s red.” He informed.

“Well, having a red ceiling would’ve been strange, don’t you think?” He let out a small laugh. “Jongin, I’m curious, what do you see in it?” He asked, “As a child, I used to look up at a ceiling just like this and make stories up from nothing.”

“Hmm…” Jongin hummed, observing the ceiling once more, “A white sea. But, I guess if it were red I’d see an ocean of blood.”

“Of course.” Junmyeon muttered. Usually, when Jongin said things like this, things that were considered ‘crazy’, the therapist would write it down on a notepad or a notebook of some sort, but Dr. Kim did no such thing. The doctor wasn’t always out to evaluate him. It was simply just a personal question between him and Jongin, and Jongin liked that.

Jongin pushed his arms up toward the foam sea and started to spread his arms, only for them to be restrained back. The limited space from the handcuffs around his wrists was annoying. “Do you think you could take these off, Dr. Kim?”

He just smiled and shook his head before sitting in the chair next to Jongin’s. “How many times have you asked people that question, Jongin?”

“I’ve been through exactly twenty three psychotherapists. I’ve asked each of them twice; in the beginning and in the end. So forty six times, not counting you.” Jongin answered, his head swinging side to side in delight as he spoke.

“And I’m going to guess you’ve been told no forty six times then, not counting this one.”

Jongin smirked at him. “Actually, thirty nine times. The other seven, near the end, were too scared to answer.”

“Well I must be one lucky therapist to be here, huh?”

“Very.”

Dr. Kim took out a notebook, “Anyway, Jongin, I think it’s about time to start with our interview.” Jongin noticed that he crossed his legs in a professional way. “What is your favorite color…? Red,” He mumbled, moving onto the next question on the list. “What is your favorite number?”

“Six, six, six.” Jongin was once again staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Like the devil’s numbers?” Dr. Kim questioned mostly to himself as he wrote the numbers, “Six hundred sixty-six.” He mumbled.

“Exactly like the devil’s numbers.”

“So, Jongin, it says here that you say you’re…” He paused and craned his head to look closer at the words, like he read them wrong the first time, “Soulmate is sure to be Lucifer?” That ended more in a question than a statement.

“I know it, Dr. Kim.” He added, “Lucifer.” He said the name slowly as if savoring every syllable. “It’s a beautiful name, isn’t it? Rolls off the tongue easily, strikes fear into the hearts of others.” Jongin was visibly happier as he talked about the name.

“Jongin, do you see this Lucifer person?”

“No.”

“Do you hear Lucifer?”

“No.”

The therapist couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at Jongin’s answers, “You haven’t seen him and you haven’t talked to him. What makes you think he’s your soulmate?”

“Well, maybe not soulmate.” Jongin shrugged at the word, “He might not have a soul.”

Junmyeon seemed very comfortable with Jongin at this point, “Jongin, you’ve been through twenty three therapists.” He leaned down close, “I know you’re smart enough to act your way out this, why not just leave already?”

“I may be smart, but I’m still insane.” Jongin giggled at his own words.

“Many people have been in your position telling me the exact same thing. And I’ve helped them to move on to become normal, functioning citizens. I’m sure one day I’ll find you in a town or city somewhere, eating lunch with a companion, enjoying conversation, acting carefree, and having a normal life.”

“I guess. Or, you’ll find me right back in this office on your chair every Friday, just as troubled as the last Friday. Or maybe, when you’re fed up with me, in a different office with a different therapist, but in the same position. No matter what, I’m not moving.” He nodded.

“And why’s that?” Junmyeon inquired, leaning back in his chair.

“Because normal, that’s why.” He giggled.

“Jongin,” The doctor’s voice was stern, “language please.”

He sighed, “Because he’s going to be coming for me soon, that’s why.” Jongin responded, a smile slowly creeping up onto his face.

Jongin could hear the exasperation in the psychotherapist’s voice, “And who’s that, Jongin?”

“Why, Lucifer, of course.” Jongin said, a bigger grin forming on his face.

Dr. Kim shook his head and continued asking questions that Jongin didn’t answer or hear. The conversation about Lucifer had his mind running off black silence. Jongin did not understand how that worked, but it did somehow.

Lucifer was coming for him. All he had to do was wait a bit longer. Just a bit more...

💉

Just a bit more complaining. After complaining and whining to Dr. Kim for the longest time with the best pouty lips and puppy eyes he could manage, Jongin was allowed to go to the lunchroom to hopefully “unwind his mind from Lucifer” (Ha! Like that was going to happen any time soon) and converse with others. Jongin really just wanted to eat and get away from the questions since they were killing him. He was glad he got to get away from that cursed office.

Jongin, hands behind him, was lead into the cafeteria by two buff nurses, feeling as if he’d been in this situation one thousand times already. They passed by many empty cells and hallways so Jongin figured everyone was at lunch now. As soon as they were at the doors to the café, the nurses left him at there after removing his cuffs. Passing through the entrance, the nurses allowed him to go wander.

With a new therapist came a new hospital and a new cafeteria meaning new people. Though, each hospital was the same as the last. The same appearance, the same people, the same environment, the same atmosphere. They started and ended the same way to him. It didn’t make a difference to where he was and it didn’t make a difference now.

He observed the people that weren’t considered fully human to the outside world, people he didn’t even consider fully human. Even if they were mentally stable enough to be around others and be treated as if they were in a normal jail, they were all still insane. People from eighty year old men to eighteen year old boys were allowed to eat together if they played nice.

The brunette walked through the columns of tables of useless people. People who glared at him, people who ignored him, people who were a bit too braindead to know what they were even looking at. He watched a weak boy with black hair get slapped around in the corner by a tall guy for a while, trying to find amusement in it. The smaller one was staring at his bully with big eyes with a glint in it that begged for mercy. Jongin, after realizing the smaller boy wouldn’t fight back, found himself feeling pity. People who didn’t have the ability to fight back often made him feel sorry for them, even though this emotion was often paired with disgust. He shook his head at the weakling before walking on and sitting down at a table with a few people, waiting a few seconds before being served food that looked like it should be in the toilet.

Jongin didn’t even bother to give his tray a second glance (he wasn’t that hungry) before continuing to watch the animals around him. The people at his table seemed to be staring at him for seconds too long at a time, glancing between him and their food.

All but one person with white hair, pale skin, and brown eyes, didn’t look away from him. Jongin was able to fully observe these features because they were making direct eye contact with each other and neither of them wanted to be the first to look away. The boy appeared too angelic and youthful to be in a place like this. He looked like he belonged to walk with the Gods or he had the blood of a God in him, and Jongin hated that. It was as if the boy’s face was tailored simply to piss him off.

Jongin and the annoying looking angel continued keeping their eyes on one another before one of the males at the table yelled something along the lines of, “Hey, you, off.” Of course Jongin didn’t care enough to gaze at the person who had insulted him. The person didn’t deserve his attention.

The angelic being slowly turned to his friend, “Please, shut the up.” He said with a kind smile before turning back to Jongin, “Why the are you here?” He asked in a soft voice, not changing his tender facial expression. It was like this person expected Jongin to know their reputation, know who he was and completely avoid him.

But, Jongin instantly altered his opinion on the other as soon as he spoke. With those few, very direct words, he felt as if the angel grew taller and more overpowering than him, more in a way where he’d underestimated him. Jongin opened his mouth to say something, but instantly closed it, swallowing his words down.

“What?”

“You look like an angel.” Jongin started, having nothing else to say, “But…” Jongin couldn’t quite put his finger on what he was going to say next. He tilted his head slightly, as if changing his angle would give him the exact words on how to describe Angel, the nick-name he decided to call him.

Jongin noticed the irritated, but bored, look that grew on Angel’s face, as if he’s been told this too many times. An angry grin planted itself onto his perfectly pink lips, “Say that again.” He threatened, squinting his eyes threateningly at Jongin.

He did as he was told, “You look like an angel.” Jongin repeated dully.

Now, Jongin expected Angel and his crew to either move (if they were smart) or attempt to beat him up. But Angel’s angry smile turned into an amused smirk, “Interesting…” He mumbled. He ran his hand through his white butterfly hair, “Tell me your name.” He commanded. It was unlike the usual question of ‘what’s your name?’ making Jongin quite interested.

“Kim Jongin.” He announced, barely being able to hold back a stutter. This person was delightfully straightforward.

“Kim Jongin, hm?” Angel repeated and Jongin nodded. “You’re one of Dr. Kim’s patients, right?” Jongin answered with another gesture of his head. “You must be pretty ed up.”

Jongin smiled as if he were just complimented. “Very. Thank you. I get that a lot.” He wasn’t even joking; being called mentally ill or mentally unstable was a compliment to him and he was proud of it.

Silence was thick for a while and nothing was said at the table, as if they were all trying to compute what he had just said. Before Angel could think of a reply, a man who looked like a frog ran up to Angel. He looked panicked. He announced something barely audible between the big gulps of air he was taking in.

“Jinki, beat up. Kibum, Jonghyun, defending him.” He somehow managed to huff out, pointing in the direction he came from. Pinching the bridge of his nose with what Jongin assumed was stress, Angel muttered something silent and got up from his seat, an empty tray left in front of him.

But he didn’t run away as soon as he got up. Angel, despite the rush of the situation, stood there for a moment, eyes lingering on Jongin’s face. Jongin felt like he should’ve looked away from this demigod being, but he didn’t feel like he had the power to. “You have a cute face too.” Angel said in a dull voice, as if it were a normal thing to say, before taking his leave with his friend. They were stopped at the door by the same buff nurses that had taken Jongin into the cafe, but after a few exchanged words and silent nods, they were let out of the cafeteria.

Jongin’s eyes remained on the spot Angel had disappeared between the doors. When fed up with looking at an empty space for a moment, Jongin turned his head to the people who stayed at the table (some had left for reasons unknown to Jongin.). The small group was huddled together, muttering quietly among themselves and stealing glances at Jongin from time to time. All of them judging him silently.

“Who does he think he is?...”

“Does he not know?...”

“I’ll ing kill him!…”

Regardless of their attempt to be quiet enough so that Jongin couldn’t hear them, Jongin still could hear small snippets of their mutters and whispers. Not that any of them mattered to him. Why should he care about useless opinions from useless, unworthy, dull, foolishly ordinary, people?

💉

People. Nothing was wrong with him; it was just the people around him that made him look bad. They were all idiots, they made a complete fool of themselves in front of the world and surely no one would care if they were gone. It wouldn’t make a difference if they disappeared. They were the ones that were in the wrong, not him.

“Jongin, are you feeling okay?” The woman that demanded to be called his mother asked him.

Jongin forced on a smile, even if he wasn’t happy. Smiling was simply the one thing he was good at doing. Very good at doing. “Yes, mama.” He responded with a sickeningly sweet tone. “I’m feeling just fine.” Jongin was also good at acting, and acting like a good boy would please his mother. Although, she had changed over the past few days. She was acting less and less caring.

Another woman, who looked a bit older than his caretaker, walked up to the boy. “Jongin, you do know that it was very mean of you to hurt the other kids.”

“I know, teacher.” Jongin nodded, holding the sides of the small, green, plastic chair he was seating in.

She placed a warm hand on the side of Jongin’s face, a worried expression in her eyes. She bit her bottom lip and knit her eyebrows together as if trying to get a better understanding of the young boy, “Jongin, if you know it’s bad then why did you do it?”

“Because, teacher,” He started, small fingers following the hand caressing him but eyes locked with the hers, “if they’d lived any longer in the world then I don’t know what this Earth would come to.”

💉

Where on the Earth were they going? That was a question Jongin constantly asked himself as he followed behind Angel and his friend quietly, but quickly enough to keep them in sight, yet far enough to keep himself out of their sight. After the stranger’s appearance, included with heavy breathing and worried looks, Jongin couldn’t just sit there and wonder what it was all about. He’d die from curiosity.

The two companions went directly to a nurse. With an exchange of haste words and quick nods, the nurse started to lead them somewhere in a fast paced walk. With this nurse, none of the other nurses seemed to second glance them or suspected anything from the two patients, which also seemed to include Jongin because no one was second glancing him either. As Angel and the strangers continued onward, Jongin noticed less and less people were around and everything grew more silent, as if they were moving to a place that had been abandoned.

This quiet lasted for only a few seconds before the faint sounds of grunts and shouts could be heard from the end of the hall, behind a single door. At the beginning of the hall, the nurse gave them another nod and left them to do whatever they needed to do.

Jongin’s curiosity only grew larger along with his excitement, the suspense was too much for him! These sounds, without a doubt, were the sounds of a fight. He had to admit, he treasured watching and joining fights. Above all, though, he loved watching idiots get into fights, try to fight, and fail miserably. There was always something comedic and humorous about it, like it was something one would see in a movie.

Jongin started to slow down as Angel and his companion ran through the doors without a sign of hesitation, opening them enough that Jongin could catch a glimpse of the large brawl of about fifteen to twenty people. Of course, Jongin would join any fight; even if he had nothing to do with it and was originally an onlooker. But he had to remind himself that he was there only to discover the situation and fulfill his curiosity which itched more than his want to fight.

He stopped himself outside the room, settling for watching them through the rather large glass window in the middle of the door. Jongin’s eyes wandered around the empty, concrete, gray room. His eyes gave short, simple glances to the blood stains on the floor and the few people on the ground. The brunette’s gaze stopped only on the person closest to the door, Angel, recognizable by his light blond hair. He was surrounded by three people, all of them challenging him to join the fight.

Angel looked greatly outnumbered, Jongin observed with a small smirk forming on his lips. Jongin was patiently waiting for him to fall on his and start crying for mercy. This person was all bark and no bite and certainly they’d cower out soon enough (And Jongin would leave, feeling like a fool for feeling overpowered by him earlier). It was one to three and Jongin was already breaking out the popcorn.

But Angel didn’t even flinch at the numbers, Jongin observed. He raised his fists up, looking experienced and threatening. It was like he promised them a world of pain if they wanted to fight. From this point, Jongin didn’t want to look away, inquisitive to what Angel was about to do.

With a ridiculous battle cry, one of the three surrounding Angel ran toward him. He brought up a balled hand and swung it with all his power, expecting it to land directly on Angel’s nose. But, before the fist could come in contact with his face, Angel shifted to the right, dodging just in time.

While the guy staggered on a missed hit, Angel reached over and grabbed onto his left wrist. After a quick kick in the stomach to weaken him, Angel forced the other’s body back with a push but pulled on his arm to keep it straight.

Before the other two realized they needed to do something to help their comrade, Angel raised his elbow above the other’s arm joint and dropped it hard, making it crook the wrong way.

After a pause between the three, Angel smiled back at the two, gesturing for them to come at him with his free hand, persuading them to do something out of anger. The pair ran up to Angel, making the same mistake of rushing into it. Grabbing hold of the dislocated elbow joint of the screaming man, Angel forced him to turn about one hundred-eighty degrees and threw him into the two, knocking them down like dominos.

The one in the middle of the sandwich threw his friend off of him and scrambled to his feet. The bottom one, however, seemed to be in quite a bit of pain and stayed down.

This time, instead of waiting for the enemy to rush to him in a fit of anger, Angel ran to him. The man must’ve thought Angel was going to punch him because he leaned his head back. But, Angel hopped up and landed a painful, but sloppy, kick in the center of his chest, knocking the man back and onto the floor once more.

Angel took his foot off the man’s chest. Breathing heavily, he grabbed onto his enemy’s long hair and dragged him over to the closest wall, right next to the door, forcing Jongin to lean over and strain his eyes to continue watching this go down. Going down onto one knee and holding the heavy head up, he pushed the head hard onto the concrete wall. Jongin was sure, by the way Angel was bashing the head on the hard, rocky surface, that it’d leave another stain of blood to paint the room.

It didn’t seem like Angel was going to stop until he was kicked to the side by the last man facing him. He muttered something and was kicked once more. The kicks seemed endless, but eventually, the man had to stop to regain his energy. Jongin found that a part of himself was enjoying watching Angel get his kicked, yet the other of side him was silently rooting for Angel, thinking ‘Get back up!’, like he was watching wrestling on T.V. Thankfully, as if Lucifer had answered his hopes, Angel clumsily got back up onto his feet.

He wasn’t given time to recover from the pain of a thousand kicks because as soon as he stood upright, the blond received a direct hit to the face. This was the only hit since the man still needed to recover.

But Angel wouldn’t allow that to happen, even if he was hurting. Leaning forward, Angel swung a strong flat hand to the side of the man’s neck, like trying to give him a paper cut. For a while, the man was stunned and stumbled sideways. Angel took this chance to hit him once more. He jut his paper hand to the center of the man’s neck, forcing the guy to take a knee and hold his throat, trying to steady his breathing.

Angel took the man from under the armpits and dragged him up onto his feet. At this point, the man seemed like he’s given up on all hope of winning from how willing he was to take his punishment. Angel grabbed onto both of his arms and kicked in one of his knees. Instead of the usual cringe reaction someone else would’ve given, Jongin giggled at how the man’s leg now bent at an odd angle. The man let out a shrill scream and Angel let him go, letting him fall hard on the ground.

Angel didn’t stop there, however. Angel walked to the body and kicked the guy repeatedly on the stomach and ribs as if to get payback from before. Before he ran out of energy, but after he’s sure he’s broken a bone or two, he gives a quick hit to the face, either knocking the guy out or killing him; Jongin’s not sure which and honestly couldn’t care less.

It takes Angel a while to regain his composure. There was a minute of stillness except for the one man who was still struggling with another, pushing each other by the shoulders. A rather pathetic fight against five year old men. Jongin wondered if they’d been doing that the whole fight.

The tallest one of them grabbed onto the shirt collar of one of the guys and threw him to the floor. The man crawled into the corner of the room as if it’d protect him.

After the tall man and one of the others still standing have a short conversation between them full of giggles and laughs, the one that had participated in the five-year-old-fight yelled, “You know damn well my job isn’t fighting!” with an exaggerated huff.

Jongin’s gaze wandered back to Angel on the other side of the room, who let out one more big breath and wiped the glistening sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Angel, stepping on and over the guy with the broken leg, walked over to the man in the corner. When the angelic being stopped in front of the quivering man, the joking from the others stopped instantly and their eyes are on the two.

Nothing seemed to be happening from where Jongin saw them – Angel’s back is to him and blocking the view to what’s happening. After what Jongin assumed was an exchange of words, the blonde knelt down and held up the man’s arm. Another pause and then a sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by a scream of ‘My fingers! !’

With that, Jongin supposed that Angel had bent that man’s fingers past their limits.

More inaudible words are swapped and Angel stands back up and walks over to his teammates to have more conversation. Again, lips move but nothing is understood. Jongin, seeing as the fight was over, decided to head back before anyone could catch him.

Like usual when about to leave Angel’s presence, Jongin decides to observe the angel-like being once more. His eyes wander back to Angel’s face only for their eyes to suddenly meet. Angel’s eyes are wide for a moment, but he calms instantly. Jongin flinches and Angel smirks.

💉

Jongin flinches, pulled out of his thoughts by a yawn that didn’t belong to him.

“Jongin, it’s late.” Dr. Kim pointed out, glancing at the clock. He had long ago given up on trying to get Jongin to answer his questions and was at his desk doing paperwork. He sighed, “Why come at all?”

“Dr. Kim,” Jongin whined, “because I like being here. Even if my hands and feet are cuffed. Plus, I sleep across from a who beats people up and snores too loudly.” He squirmed slightly in the uncomfortable recliner chair. “Would’ve liked this place better if these cuffs were removed.”

“Well, you can’t sleep here.” Jongin could feel the doctor’s warm smile from behind him. “You’re going to have to go back to your cell and get some rest. Hopefully you’ll be more cooperative tomorrow.” Jongin didn’t respond, making Junmyeon get up from his desk and sit in the chair next to Jongin’s, “I’ll get the nurses to get you-”

“How’s your daughter?” Jongin brought up, a bored look laid on his face.

“My- my daughter?”

“You have one, don’t you?” Jongin’s head turned to face the therapist, “Or maybe your son?” This was Jongin’s attempt to instill fear into Dr. Kim. Mentioning something he should’ve never known about was one of the many ways of doing that. Jongin had only known the doctor had a child because he noticed the framed, colorful picture with pink, chicken scratch words ‘Dr. Suho’ near his work space.

However, this didn’t seem to faze Junmyeon in the least. The lack of shock in the other being scared Jongin a bit. “She’s doing just fine, thank you for asking. She’s at home sleeping, Saturdays like this tend to tire her out.” He replied as if Jongin were a neighbor or a friend. “How’s your mother?”

“Dead.” Jongin smiled, regaining his normal composure.

“Oh, that sounds terrible!” Suho said, fake empathy dripping from his voice, “How did she die, Jongin?”

Jongin could tell Suho already knew how his mother died. Jongin knew Suho was just trying to get a reaction out of him. Jongin let him have it. “I killed her.” Jongin answered, an expression of pure pleasure set on his face.

His mother? She was no good; always drank, spent hours on the couch, couldn’t hold up a job, couldn’t pay the bills. After she’d given up on the only thing that kept her living on this world as a decent human being, she didn’t find a use in trying to live her previous, ordinary life. The woman didn’t love Jongin back, despite her past caring words, gentle looks, understanding touches. His loving mother slowly lost her mind, slipping away from society’s expectations, the world outside her couch, her son. Jongin knew she loved him at some point but ever since she let go she was nothing but a stranger to him. This made her useless.

“Why did you kill her? Wasn’t she a nice lady?” Suho questioned, grinning proudly now that Jongin had finally answered a question.

“She couldn’t take care of me, she couldn’t take care of herself. I did everyone a favor by removing her.” Jongin answered. Jongin always talked about her with a hint of anger and sadness in his voice. In spite of her being completely useless to the world, Jongin had to admit that at some point in his life he loved his mother, as any child would.

Suho nodded at Jongin’s reaction, “It seems like we’re going to have to do a lot of work with you.” He started, “But it can only be done with a proper amount of sleep.”

“I’m fine, Suho.” Jongin assured, his voice calmer than before, “I’m not tired, I swear. I’m doing just fine.”

“No,” Dr. Kim got up from his seat, seriousness clear in his voice, “Jongin, you aren’t.”

Jongin was left there for a few minutes to think while the doctor left to get the nurses. He thought about the only thing currently tormenting his mind, his mother. Though, letting her kind voice and loving face plague his mind was useless. He hated it.

💉

Jongin hated how much the ears of the man in front of him stuck out. It was like he was a mystical creature of some sorts, like an elf. He kept yelling at Jongin for an unknown reason even though all he’d done was sit down at an empty table and wait for his food to be served. Jongin recognized him as the one beating up the short person the other day.

The large eared man looked angrier at the fact that Jongin wasn’t responding to him, “Why the are you just staring at me?” He hissed, “Get the out of my seat!”

Jongin just shook his head, a small smirk forming on his face, “Because you have big ears.” He pointed out and the other’s eyes grew large. “And how many times are you going to say ‘’?”

His shocked face didn’t last long and it quickly turned into a furious one, “What the did you just-”

“Leave him alone, Chanyeol.” A familiar, but tired, voice said, “He’s new.”

Chanyeol turned to face the person who had called out to him. Angel stood there, glaring at the taller directly in the eyes. Jongin could clearly see the dark bruises on his face and the swollen bottom lip from yesterday. Beside him was a tanned man who, regardless of two times the amount of cuts and purple spots Angel carried, smiled widely at Chanyeol.

This man held a smile that reminded Jongin of his mother. Warm and sunny.

“But…”

“Did you not hear me? I said  off.” Angel repeated, voice filling with annoyance as he went on and his eyes reducing into small slits.

“What? Are you growing soft? Are you weak now?” Chanyeol suddenly found confidence in his words, “Why are you taking care of him? Huh?”

Jongin, who was just sitting there, noticed Angel look at him. “Because he’s mine to take.”

“He’s yours? That’s exactly what you said for the last guy, but what do you think of him now?” Chanyeol argued and he glanced at Jongin from the corner of his eye with a smile, “Whatever your name is, I suggest you off before he tells me to do a favor on you.”

“You know,” The one beside Angel finally intervenes, “Baekhyun still owes me a favor.” His hands were behind his back and he was still grinning as bright as ever, “A big favor. I’ve always needed some extra money after all.”

At the name of Baekhyun, Chanyeol instantly froze up. He hesitated for a while but decided that it’d be best if he left. He turned, head slightly down as if not to be noticed, and walked away from the group of three.

“I ing hate that prick.” Angel muttered under his breath, watching Chanyeol until he disappeared into another group of people at another table. “You, Deer.”

Only then did Jongin notice that he was staring directly at Angel- like he was a deer in headlights. Jongin looked down to his lap and cleared his throat, which suddenly grew very dry. “Are you…” Jongin couldn’t seem to get to words out of his mouth, “Who?” Was all he could manage to let out.

Angel smirked, running a hand through his white hair, “Jongin,” The way Angel said his name threw shivers up his spine, “My name is Taemin.”

“And I’m Jinki, but you can call me Onew.” The other piped up.

“Nobody asked you.” Taemin sneered, “Why are you still using that name anyway?”

“It’s,” Onew took a deep breath as if he were in the renewed morning air sniffing daisies, and let it all out in a long, relieving sigh, “Refreshing.” He breathed out.

“No,” Taemin replied, “It’s just stupid.”

“Umm…” Jongin began, “Taemin?” He finally spoke. The name tasted delicious on his lips.

Taemin looked to Jongin as if he just remembered he was there, “What do you want?” Jongin honestly had nothing to say he just wanted a reason for Taemin’s attention to be turned to him again.

"How did you... Umm, get that nurse..." Jongin tried to come up with a question in his head, "To let you go?"

"Well, he is more or less of a nurse." Onew replied for Taemin, "More like a nurse who is more interested in something interesting happening once in a while than sticking to the rules. He knows us pretty well. I believe he only goes by the name of Kris." He informed, tappng his chin lightly, "If I remember correctly."

"Okay, now that that was answered, what did you really want?" Taemin asked as though he could read Jongin's mind. Jongin could only reply with the blink of his eyes. With a click of his tongue and a small shake of his head, Taemin turned around, “Whatever. You shouldn’t call my name for no reason. Save those words for another night.” He warned, starting to walk off in the direction of the table he sat at yesterday, Jinki following suit.

“But... Wait… I wanted to tell...” Jongin mumbled to the air, watching Taemin leave him. With the memory of heads bashing against walls, fingers being cracked, and blood being spilled at the hands of Taemin, Jongin muttered hopelessly without thinking, “I think I’m in love with you…”

💉

“Love?” Jongin muttered to himself, laying down on his hard, but strangely comforting, bed, thinking about the thing that usually ran in his head 24/7.

Lucifer.

Jongin was in love with Lucifer, the absolute perfect being. A being who obtained what they wanted through power and fear and force if necessary. Lucifer was someone Jongin looked up to and was willing to do anything for him without question. Lucifer was looking for Jongin and Jongin waited patiently for Lucifer to take him away.

Jongin was not in love with Taemin. He was not perfect like Lucifer was. Taemin, however, did act much like how Jongin imagined how Lucifer would behave and Taemin was interesting. But, he wasn’t Lucifer so no love could possibly be formed. Taemin, like all humans, had flaws. Lucifer did not.

But… What were the chances that Jongin meet someone different in a world that seemed to set itself on repeat? Someone who wasn’t black and white like the rest of the Earth. Jongin admired the way Taemin didn’t hold back for a second. He showed no mercy to those he fought. He made sure to leave his mark on those who challenged him so that the next time they faced him, they’d cower in fear of the last memory they had of him. Theories and ideas flew in and out of Jongin’s mind, rejecting and approving new ideas, adding and removing from old ones.

Jongin’s idea of Lucifer and Taemin were very alike. Taemin mimicked Jongin’s idea of powerful. Lucifer was an all-powerful being that could do as he pleased. Do anything, take anything, be anything.

It didn’t take long until the idea that Lucifer was Taemin dwindled its way into Jongin’s mind.

Suddenly, ear piercing screams pulled Jongin out of his train of thought and shook him off of the surface of sleep. When Jongin opened his eyes, a bright red light filled his vision. He instantly jumped down from the top bunk bed to observe the alarming situation. Jongin nearly pressed his face against the cell bars at the sight before him.

Flames. As if Lucifer was replying to him, beautiful orange flames danced around in the cell across from him. Jongin had to admit that he was addicted to fire for all the wrong reasons. It always had a warm, calming effect on him; most likely because he burned most of his victims’ corpses in a fire or because it reminded Jongin of Lucifer. Probably both.

Not even the screams of Chanyeol, who was the one who lived across from him, could pull him out of this trance. Chanyeol was desperately trying to pat down the flames with the arm that wasn’t on fire and his cellmate was trying to stay as far away from him as possible, but he too got caught in the flames. 

As expected a few seconds after the fire was set, water came trickling down from Chanyeol’s cell and the night-nurses who heard the screaming ran toward it with fire extinguishers and emergency first aid kits.

Jongin let out a sigh, watching the show disappear into nothing but smoke after just a few seconds of pure bliss.

“!” Chanyeol screeched in pain at his boiling skin. “Who the did this?!” After that, the rest of his screams went through one ear and out the other.

He turned his back to Chanyeol’s screams to look at the little person below Jongin’s raised bed. Jongin stood in front of the person’s sight to observe him as well as he could in the dim moonlight. He was huddled in the little corner of his bed, legs crossed and arms in front of him in a comfortable manner. Jongin couldn’t see much of his facial features, but he noticed a strange glint in his eyes and a big smirk on his face.

There was a visible glint reflecting off the stranger’s eyes. A glint Jongin recognized, but now, he noticed, with a different meaning behind it. Upon closer inspection, Jongin realized it was not a look symbolizing hope for mercy or pleads for help. It was one full of hatred and amusement.

“You’re blocking my view.” He spoke up with a monotone voice. His voice matched the atmosphere he was giving off; creepy and dark.

“And?”

“Move.” He commanded.

“I understand why Chanyeol beat the out of you the other day.” Jongin recalled. “You’re already annoying.” There was a silence between the two. When it was obvious that the little person was not going to reply, Jongin spoke again, “Did you do that?”

At those words, the male slightly tilted his head. With a blink of his eyes, the look disappeared into innocent confusion, “Hmm?” He hummed as if he hadn’t heard Jongin. Jongin was going to repeat himself but the boy started talking, “Oh, I’m your new roommate.” His cold voice turned sickeningly sweet.

Discarding Jongin’s question entirely, the male got out of his comfortable position on the bed and stood, finishing off his actions with a small bow. Looking up at the taller, he gave Jongin a great toothy smile, “Hello!” He greeted.

The only word Jongin could use to describe this person was fluffy. Fluffy, to Jongin, was the equivalent of annoying and Jongin wanted nothing more than to end this conversation and go to sleep. After figuring he’d get no reply from Jongin, he started to speak again, “It’s nice to meet you, Kim Jongin.”

Jongin glared into his dark brown eyes, “How did you know my name?”

“Kibum talks about you a lot.” He explained as if he had the answer prepared. Jongin gave him a questioning look and instantly the stranger clarified, “You’ll get to know him eventually if you hang around Jinki enough.”

Jinki, as Jongin recalled, was the person with a sunny smile and liked to be called Onew.

“Anyway,” The smaller continued, frowning and clearing his throat at how unfriendly and stoic his roommate was being, “My name Dan Ohsang.” He bowed once more. He put his hands in front of him, and another heart shaped grin grew on his lips making his wide eyes into small slits. “But you can call me D.O.”

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Shhhhh.