They had searched high and low for the immortal. All of Seoul had been searched thoroughly, but they had no idea where the immortal had gotten off to. It had been two weeks since Minho had caught sight of the immortal outside that building.

Minho got up from where he lay next to Taemin and sat on the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He thought about the weeks they had spent trying to find the rogue immortal. He saw the rising sun and flopped down to his side. He was starting to think that, maybe, they weren’t going to be able to find Kim Kibum. The idea of the man brought back old memories, his past, his slave days.

~

“Quiet!!” The man screamed.

Minho jumped up from where he sat. He couldn’t focus on the task at hand and began to hyperventilate. The man grabbed his shoulders and shook him back to reality.

He was holding a torch and a bucket of pitch, a black oil that burned so hot and fast that nothing could escape its path. He was tasked with sneaking into the local palace of Koguryo and burning it to the ground, along with making sure everyone inside stayed inside. The thought made him squirm, but this man was his master and he had to obey in every aspect or he would end up like his uncle, permanently crippled, or worse.

Minho waited until the cover of night and snuck through the city gates. He padded through the worn dirt streets silent as death. The shadows danced across the building walls as he moved about the city’s center. He didn’t want to have any part of this foul plot, but he had no choice in the matter. He stalked around the backside of the palace and watched as one of the servants slipped back inside, but didn’t close the door completely. He waited for her footsteps to disappear in the distance and softly slipped inside. He swallowed his tears and began to pour the thick black liquid along the hallway floors. Once he had finished the job, he went back to the door he entered from. He took the torch that he had hung on the wall outside and put it to the pitch he had poured at the door.

The palace lit up faster than he could blink. It wasn’t long before he could hear people begin to wake and realize what was happening. They began to run around looking for an exit, but Minho had tied all of the doors shut, except for the one he had just used.

The screams were deafening. Desperate cries for help rang through his ears before dying out violently. He heard one get closer to his as he waited. The scream was that of a man, probably around twenty years of age. It was mere seconds before the screaming man appeared, on fire, in the doorway. His cries were deafening. Minho drew the small dagger he kept on his waist and approached the still burning man. He took the small blade and plunged it into the heart of the man, silencing his screams. Minho watched as the flaming body crumpled to the ground. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and hoped to the Almighty that he would be liberated from this torture.

Minho had to silence three more people that night before they were finally quiet. He waited for the fire to die out before leaving. He picked up the empty bucket and sheathed his blade as he made his way back to his master.

He approached the dreaded house, the calls of his master echoing in his ears.

“Minho!”

MINho!!”

“MINHO!!!”

“Minho.”

He started awake to find Taemin looking over him worriedly. Minho felt the wet paths of tears on his cheeks and was surprised when a new one fell from his eye. For a split second he didn’t know where he was or what was going on. He was shaking from head to toe and he could feel his heart racing. He looked at the face before him, not recognizing it in this moment of terror. His hand flew up to the other’s throat and threw him face-up, on the mattress.

Taemin’s small soft hand came up to Minho’s. He gently placed his other hand on the other’s wet cheek. “Minho,” he said quietly so as to not startle the other. He had seen this plenty of times before, but never with Minho. The sudden resurfacing of the immortal must have Minho on edge. “Minho, you’re okay, no one here will hurt you.”

The elder snapped out of this moment at Taemin’s reassuring voice. He looked down to see that his hand was clasped around the smaller one’s throat. Wide-eyed, he jerked away. He couldn’t believe that he had done this to the other, but Taemin, thankfully, did not look scared. He got off of the other and crawled back up toward the head of the bed. “Tae, I’m-I’m...” He couldn’t find the words to express what he was feeling.

The pink haired boy smiled, “It’s okay, Min. You didn’t hurt me, but are you okay? You were crying, sobbing actually.” He placed a soft hand on the other’s hot, sweaty chest. “The bad memories resurfaced didn’t they?”

Minho nodded, his brows furrowed as the images made their way to the forefront of his mind.

Taemin climbed up to Minho and drew the other’s head to his lap. He ran his fingers through the other’s dark locks. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Minho sighed. He didn’t want to tell Taemin, but he didn’t want to keep these bottled up inside like they had been for the past thousand years. Slowly he began to open up about his experience and tell the other about his horrific past. At first, he could not find the words that he wanted to use, but as he went he found that they flowed easier, almost naturally.

Taemin listened to this story intently. He knew what courage the other was mustering just by doing this.

They sat there, together for the whole day. Taemin, gently the other’s hair, and Minho, spilling the horrors of his past with the only person that would ever be able to love and understand him. He knew that this was the most vulnerable he had ever been with his kitten and he loved it. He loved the safety that Taemin brought and he knew that they would always have each other.