Chapter VI

Jongin crossed the threshold of the studio apartment without really looking where he was going. He was staring into the eyes of the young and seemingly fragile Taemin before him instead, and those eyes felt like magnets that attracted him and guided him wherever they wished.

A strong smell of mothballs assaulted his sensitive nostrils and the air suddenly became heavier. It was likely to be due to the limited space and the presence of a single window, waiting to be opened.

"Do you want to take off your coat?" Taemin smiled and tried to catch Jongin's eyes who did not fail to reply, lowering his head in the direction of the younger and raising his eyebrows.

"There's no need, thank you. I feel a bit cold tonight." Lying would become a habit. There was no vampire who would suffer from being cold or not, they simply couldn't feel the difference.

The reason why he didn't want to take off his coat was because of the blood stains on his shirt. Hunting while in a hurry could have its downsides afterall.

"I hope to warm you up properly, then." Taemin was moving away toward the still messy bed to put the violin on it. There was a satisfied smirk on his face. The vampire on the other hand widened his eyes and his lips parted in disbelief. 

Bolder everytime, more and more attractive.
How many things was Lee Taemin and how many was he hiding?

He looked so pure, so al. The candor of his soul was reflected strongly on his skin and on his hair, in those teeth so straight and shiny. Everything that was him was so perfect that it didn't seem real.
And maybe that was the point.

"I apologize for the mess. I'm not used to receiving guests so I barely pay attention to it. Here, sit down." Taemin took a chair from under the table and cleaned it quickly with a dry cloth, then he invited Jongin to sit on it with a little bow. 
He was clearly telling the truth. The black haired boy could see his words reflected on the little furniture around him. 

The kitchen seemed almost unused but the sink was overflowing with cups, glasses and various dishes. Crumbs of bread and grains of rice were scattered all over the surface and on the floor.

Bed sheets were crumpled and twisted among themselves, with a pair of trousers and also one of the sweaters that the violinist seemed to wear so willingly. There were more clothes resting on the back of the only armchair in the house and which was located next to a small bookstore, dusty and devoid of gloss. Who knew for how long it hadn't been cleaned. 

Yet even in such a small area Taemin could live. He continued his existence in complete humility. Actually, this was the only aspect Jongin could see and while taking a sit he could not help but look at the window. Taemin went to open it and seemed to have some trouble at first because the handle was faulty.

The vampire smiled, like a spectator in front of the most interesting opera they had ever seen. He imagined him, his violinist, playing in front of that window. Playing with his eyes closed and moving carefreely, drowning in those melodies that he created from nothing.

Taemin turned, only to find Jongin staring at him. He noticed how his long legs were kept crossed, how that pair of cigarette black pants suited him perfectly; how his palm was supporting his chin while his elbow was resting on the wooden surface of the table. His skin was glowing and it looked quite unnatural, but it was not like the violinist cared. A masterpiece. Jongin was just like that and Taemin could feel his whole body shivering in front of such an outstanding figure. 

"Are you not going to join me? Also, you'll get cold if you keep standing in front of the window." Jongin tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. 
"I'm coming. I'm quite used to cold, anyway." Taemin lightly shrugged and approached the table with a few steps, sitting right in front of Jongin who quickly turned to face him. 

In front of each other like that, with no one else around, it felt just like the right thing to do. No crowds, no sounds. Jongin was staring into Taemin's eyes so intensively that the violinist thought he was trying to read his mind. 
Actually, it was something like that.

The vampire didn't forget the brief moment during that evening when -suddenly and just by chance- he had managed to see a fragment of the young guy's past.

Those few seconds couldn't presage anything good for sure. Why, of all the memories etched deeply in Taemin's mind, he saw his broken violin?
Was it possible that behind of such an angelic figure, behind that relaxed expression and beautiful smile, was hiding so much resentment?

Taemin seemed about to ask why was he staring at him that much, so Jongin anticipated him with the first question that came to his mind.

Something completely random, and also quite boring, but he came up with it while taking a quick glance in the direction of those light blond, shiny hair.

"So, where is this talented violinist from? You don't seem to be entirely Korean." Taemin straightened his back against the backrest of the chair and pulled the sleeves of his sweater to cover the knuckles of both of his hands. It almost looked like both of them were preparing for a performance. Jongin appeared austere and totally comfortable while leaning against the table, his face partly hidden behind the fingers of his right hand.

Taemin smiled at his question, not exactly surprised. Therefore, he nodded.

"You're right, sir. I'm from France. I was born in Paris." He could see Jongin pouting a bit and bouncing his head, thoughtful. Taemin just frowned, amused by his  expression.
If he only knew that Jongin was pretending. Because the vampire remembered those voices he heard during that flashback, he definitely recognised the language as French. 

"Now that you tell me about that, I can see it. Your accent doesn't lie." Taemin's lips parted.
"Is it that strong?"
"Just a bit, but I wasn't sure. I was just wondering where such beautiful gray eyes and blond hair could be taken from."  That sounded like a very cheesy thing to say, but why not being sincere when you can, for once? Jongin tried to get closer, approaching his chair to the table with a light hit of his pelvis.

The violinist lowered his head for a moment, softly biting his lower lip. He was used to receiving compliments, but in a completely different way. Actually, he liked this one way better. 
"My eyes, my hair... I took them from my mother. She's french and, well, I've always been told that I look a lot like her."

"She must be very beautiful." Taemin realized that every word Jongin said echoed in the room and it almost sounded magical. Everything around that dark haired guy was unusually surprising. Unique. 
But it had been such a long time since someone asked him about his life, his family, and he was having fun with it. 

"She is. As beautiful as weak." Though those words slipped from his lips so naturally, Taemin was still smiling.
"Excuse me?" Did Jongin hear him right? What was that?

Taemin suddenly looked like he had just woke up from a dream and blinked, fastly shaking his head right after.
"Ah, nevermind. What about you, Mr. Jongin? You know way more things about me than I know about you."

What a wonderful way to turn the tables. 

Jongin lifted his head and passed his hand over his coat from the height of his chest to his tummy. Another round, another performance.
"What would you like to know?"