Jaejoong tenses up involuntarily. He knows that he shouldn’t, that it’s going to hurt all the more so because he did, but he can’t help it. He can’t help the tiny, soundless whimper of fear that emits from his mouth either, as he spies the tips of sharp white fangs emerging from behind Changmin’s lips. He bows his head, shuts his eyes and clenches his teeth, cutting the whimper off midway. He will not be scared, and even if he is no way is he going to show it.

Two cold points touch his wrist, lightly scraping against his skin.

And then they suddenly disappear.

Jaejoong waits for the feel of them to appear on his skin again, but they don’t. Instead, he feels Changmin’s grip on him loosen. A low laugh comes from somewhere over his head. A hand tilts his chin upward. “Look at me—hyung.” The last word is said after a long pause, like it was an afterthought. It’s disrespectful, and under normal circumstances, if Changmin’s only identity had been Jaejoong’s brother and Jaejoong had his voice, he’d have given Changmin such an earful that Changmin would avoid being anywhere too close to him for at least a month. But the circumstances are far from normal, and Jaejoong does as Changmin requests—tells him to.

Changmin’s face is closer to his than he would have thought, hot breath washing over him. “What were you thinking? That I’d drink your blood?”

Well, Changmin’s fangs were this close to his pulse. What else was he supposed to think?

Once he’s sure that Jaejoong is going to keep his head up, Changmin lets go of Jaejoong’s chin, hand moving to caress his jaw. “I’ll admit, I did want to. Your blood…” He takes an appreciative sniff. “One taste, and everything I’ve done up till now will be worthwhile.” One blink, and his eyes are crimson red. Jaejoong would’ve drawn back, had he not been frozen to the spot by the memory of the night where he first thought he saw Changmin’s eyes resemble those of the one who took away his voice. “But not now. Not yet.” Another blink, and the red is gone. “This is turning out more amusing than I thought.”

Amusing? He thinks this is amusing?

“I’ll admit, this was just a game to me at first, not because it was fun, but to pass the time. Almost a thousand years in existence and everything starts to blend together into a bland soup. So I did…this.”

The next thing Changmin utters is so soft, so quick, that Jaejoong can’t catch it. But what he can’t miss is the dissolving of Changmin’s handsome face, slowly melting away to reveal the young, childish face that had asked his parents so sweetly if they could please please please adopt Jaejoong.

The adorably, ironically innocent mouth says something, and Changmin’s handsome face is back, his mouth curled in a smirk. “Magic. Averian is a language not many know, but the ones who do are in possession of a tongue that gives them immense power. It is a language that comes to you in a single word, but that single word can only be given to you by those who already know Averian. I had the good fortune to be one of them. So why should I not use it? While I don’t have to tell Yunho everything, he has to tell me. Through him, I found out where you were, I made myself a child. That’s why I convinced a couple that there was no miscarriage, that their baby had lived. All because I still hungered for what I’d lost more than eight hundred years ago. And while that’s a long time, even in my standards, a scent like your blood’s is very easy to remember and very hard to forget. And I wanted it so much. I wanted you so much. But if I’d simply taken, this would’ve ended too soon, and my life would be dull all over again. And this is so fun.

“A game, Jaejoong.” All trace of respect, no matter how disrespectful it was, falls away, and Changmin’s eyes harden. His hand abruptly falls away. “Yunho’s as confused as you are, why I’m being so complicated, but honestly, that’s what all this is to me, a game between that I’m in control of. And guess what?” He leans over so that his mouth is level with Jaejoong’s ear. “It’s not over yet.”

Changmin blows softly into Jaejoong’s ear, and then Changmin is gone, leaving Jaejoong to stare bug-eyed and uncomprehending at the cold eggs and book Changmin left behind.

-{}-

Years of being the eldest child (well—he thought he was the eldest) has taught Jaejoong a fair amount of leadership, even if he only had one person to exercise it on. So it would be the most logical course of action that after being the one in charge for so long, he should know what to do. With so much experience at choosing choices under his belt, he should have made his decision on what to do by now.

He hasn’t.

Changmin, his precious little brother, the one person he thought would stand by him even if the whole world turned against him, is now the enemy. Their entire relationship was a game, one which had Jaejoong as the prize. Just how do you react to something like that? When the world as you know it is tumbling down around you, not brick by brick but all at once like the walls of Jericho, how are you supposed to think straight?

But one thing is for sure: he is no longer safe around Changmin. Now that Changmin has shown his true colours, he’s definitely not going to try and make things go back to the way they used to be, so his next move can be counted on to not be anything nice. And Jaejoong has no interest in finding out just how much ugliness that his beautiful baby brother is capable of. His brain takes that thought, sifts through the words and takes them apart, only to join them together again and form one simple instruction.

Run.

So Jaejoong does.

He ignores the fact that sweats and a ratty old T-shirt is not what he should be wearing when out on the streets of fashion-forward Korea. He ignores the fact that he is barefoot. He ignores the fact that Changmin, if he sets his mind to it, is going to catch up with him as easily as Yoochun did that fateful night. He ignores everything, everything but the blood in his ears and the feeling in his heart that he is not alone, that he still has someone left, that he may have lost something but stands to gain something even more precious.

He runs out of the house, not bothering to close the door behind him. The street is unfamiliar to him and he hasn’t the faintest clue which way goes where, but it doesn’t matter, because an invisible string is drawing out his path for him, clear as day, and he follows it  without hesitation, knowing that no matter where it leads, Yunho will be at the end of it.

Sorry that this is not that long and took so long, but I had a stupid writer's block :(