"The devil's Flower"

She was sitting on the large bed in her own, personal prison. The white blanket was all crumpled up, but she didn't even intend to straighten it, just sat there motionlessly in between countless fluffy cushions. Right in the middle of the wide, round room in which barely any light fell through tiny windows far outside her reach. It was stuffed in here, not because there were so many of her belongings or other pieces of furniture, but because this place was practically a greenhouse. Well, either a very sad one or just a poor try of building one. The flowers that must once have been in full bloom, colorful and pretty with a wonderful scent, were now withered, and she couldn't even remember the time they weren't. Had she been caught in here back then already? She didn't know. Too many years had passed. Years in which her only company had been a bunch of withered flowers. No wonder she'd ended up the way she was. Pale, skinny, unable to display any kind of emotion on her face. Fragile, vulnerable, and sick for life. Sick of life. A pitiful shadow of her former self that couldn't even be saved by the tons of heavy, dark make-up she wore 24/7.

But he, he was the only one who still called her pretty. Every time he stopped by. Since of course, no one else would ever come to see her. Much less save her. Blankly staring at the door, unable to sleep, all she could do was wait. Wait for him to come. Wait for her own death. Beside that, her life was empty. Yes, she existed. But she wasn't truly living.

The door flew open seemingly by itself, and the breeze it caused let some dried out flower petals fly through the air. Some landed on her bed. But that was already covered by them anyway. Unmoving, she eyed the figure that was entering her room, ever so elegantly. And even though she knew what awaited her, fear crept through her. Her frozen heart started beating faster. And it would never stop doing so; for she was cursed.

"Fiore." A husky voice she didn't want to hear called, yet she made no attempt to move. Even if she'd wanted to, she probably wouldn't have been able to. That body of hers, it had become rusty and stiff, only responding to his touch- though she hated herself for it.

"Don't call me that," she said, flatly. It was always the same. She didn't want to accept that name he'd given her, it'd mean she'd obey him completely. It'd mean that he was the one who decided who she was. She refused to let it come to that. Though unfortunately, she didn't even remember her birth name anymore. Whether her memory had gotten blurry over time or whether he'd taken it away from her like everything else she'd treasured- she didn't know. In front of him, she knew nothing. Only that she wished for him to disappear. His lips curled up into an amused smirk, he was great at hiding his thoughts from her, while she seemed to be so easy to read despite her straight face. Maybe he could even read her thoughts, he had never revealed such things to her. But she strongly believed he would be capable of that. After all he'd done to her, that much should be a piece of cake to him. He approached her and halted right before her bed, but since that was so big, they still was quite some space between them. Space she'd like to keep.

"The name fits you so well, don't you think? Much better than your former one." She glared at him, angry that he seemed to know more about her than she did herself. It wasn't supposed to be like that. However, she kept shut, gritting her teeth. There was no use talking back at him, he'd win the game anyway. After sweeping some of the withered petals from it, he sat on the edge of the bed, and his crimson eyes locked with hers. She kept the eye contact for a few, long seconds, before lowering her gaze. She hated his face that was so deceivingly human, too handsome. She hated his silky looking, dark brown hair. She hated the way he dressed so well. She just- hated everything about him. And she had all reasons to.

"You're being so reluctant again." He actually pouted a little saying that, and it gave her the creeps. When he was playing nice, he was the scariest. Even scarier than when he showed his true nature. Stubbornly, she still didn't say a thing, didn't even change her sitting position she'd kept for so long that her legs had started to feel numb long ago. Crawling towards her with cat-like movements, he cooed: "You know, that pains my heart." What heart?, she thought grimly. As far as she'd seen, he couldn't have a heart. And if he did, it was black, ugly and frozen, certainly even colder than her own. He'd reached her by the time she'd finished that trail of thought, inwardly cursing him over and over again. Soon after, her face was cupped between his hands. She closed her eyes as another act of protest. Another gesture to show him that she wasn't willing to play along, that she wasn't that easy. That, too, was what always happened. She was behaving as coldly as possible towards him, hoping he'd lose interest in her some time. If that happened, he'd probably simply kill her off, and she'd be like all the flowers around her, crumbling to dust. Weirdly, she even liked that idea. Way better than spending eternity with that devil. She tried to ignore the feeling of his thumb caressing her cheek as good as possible, but still shivered, not out of pleasure but out of revulsion. Surely he'd noticed, but as usual, he disregarded it. He most likely didn't care that she was dying inside, as long as long as he had his fun.

"Won't you give me a kiss?" he asked, voice so sweet it made her feel like throwing up. None of that reflected on her face. When she turned her head a little, one of his hands wandered to her chin, and he forced her to face him again. To be honest, it even hurt a bit. She bit her lower lip. But she wasn't able to avoid his next move. Rendered completely defenseless. First, he planted a peck on her forehead, his lips warm on her skin. Then, he devoted himself to her lips. Oh, he was a good kisser, but what about him wasn't perfect? They say there's no human that could ever reach perfection. That saying obviously doesn't count for a devil. She held her breath when he placed his lips on hers, kissing her gently. She didn't respond to it at all. She didn't love him, so why would she do so? He must have known (and ignored) that very well. When he pulled back, he his lips seductively, which was enough for her to spot his pointed teeth. Monster.

"I despise you, Kim Jaejoong," she muttered, voice filled with raging hate.

"And I love you, Fiore," he returned, still smiling, but his expression darkened, she could tell right away. Liar. If you truly loved me, you'd have let me go. No, you wouldn't even have abducted me. The look in his frightening eyes changed quickly, and she knew that he was not a very patient person. Nevertheless, still determined to not show him any of her fear, she provoked:

"Go ahead already. Destroy me." That was enough for his smirk to fall completely, being replaced by an indifferent mask. Only his eyes revealed the anger that must've boiling within him. Served him right. Too fast for her to even scream, he pinned her to the bed, hovering above her as a threatening, dominant figure. She couldn't withstand the look in his eyes, finally overrun by her fright, and so she pressed her own eyes tightly shut. Trying to blend out everything, which was impossible. Her shoulders that he held carelessly started to ache right away, and she shuddered, wincing quietly. The kiss he gave her this time wasn't nearly as gentle as the first one she'd received. He crushed their lips together so hard that it hurt. He didn't part from her until she felt like she was about to suffocate, totally forgetting that she wouldn't even die from that- though she'd have to bear the pain. He then trailed his lips down her neck, marking it with love bites. Every time he created one, she twitched, trying to fight against him, but he held her down effortlessly- mercilessly. Realizing once again that there's no escape, she gave up, and when he embraced her, her body lay limply in his arms. Even before the worst pain arrived. She felt something sharp piercing her skin easily, causing her to scream in pain, and then he continued to cover that spot with kisses as he removed the blood pouring out even before it ruined her white dress. The wound was burning, she wanted him to stop on it. When she was about to pass out, breathing  weakly, he let her off and softly placed her on the pillows. She'd rather have fainted. Her hand wanderd to the wound on her neck, touching it, and she wasn't surprised to see blood on her slim fingers. Of course it was still bleeding. She exhaled shakily, and her eyes flutterd open, just to see him, who was still close to her. He didn't look angry anymore, his expression held something different she couldn't make out. Then he stated, calmly:

"Even like this, you're still pretty. And you'll always be." With her terrible appearance, she highly doubted that, of course not being happy about getting that compliment. It was what he always said. And he was nothing but a skilled liar anyway. Unable to fall asleep, she stared at the ceiling, trying her best to ignore the agony, as he took his leave silently, without another word.

***

For the hundredth time, he had broken her. Seeing her hateful eyes, her hurt expression, he'd never get used to it- and never grow tired of it either. For the thousandth time, she'd told him that she hated him. Both through words and thoughts. Sometimes he hated being able to see through her that easily. But then again, she didn't need to make it that obvious.

He sighed, walking down the endlessly long and empty corridors to reach his room- the only room besides hers that was inhabited. Fiore- no, Lee Suhee. She was his precious flower and the reason why he hadn't gone insane over the last decades yet. Yes, Jaejoong had been living for much longer than that, but recently he'd gotten tired of it. For a being like him, the world didn't offer any place to live but his castle. His home. His lonely home.

He didn't love her- at least he didn't think he was able to. He lacked what humans had, a beating heart, a soul, mortality. In general, he was too cruel to love. But he was able to long for something. Beautiful things. And his last conquest had been her. The best one he'd ever made. She was, unlike all the pretty objects he owned, alive. Able to interact with him. And she'd be able to for a long time to come. Because he had 'cursed' her. Or, to put it differently, had given her the gift of nearly eternal life. Though the latter was certainly not the way Suhee saw it. Maybe he'd been stupid when he'd taken her with him, without asking or caring, really. Until he'd understood that he had practically taken away everything from her, the first decade had passed already. Which was why he'd tried to make her room as comfortable as possible, to take away all her worries. With the first idea, he'd failed. A green paradise for his flower- he should've known that it would wither completely in no time. And since she so strongly refused to see him or talk to him, he'd given up trying at some point. Jaejoong still held the pride of a devil somewhere, and spoiling a bratty human wasn't exactly what he should be doing in the first place.

Reaching his room, he entered it quietly. It wasn't anything special, really, there was a comfy armchair, a bed he never once used, paintings on the walls. Paintings made by someone he once knew. Someone that, like most people he encountered, didn't exist anymore. Someone not like Suhee. The flower he'd ruined.

Jaejoong sat down on his chair, leaning back, closing his eyes. All that flashed through his head were pictures of her. Pictures of her milky skin. Her thin figure. Her blood, so fresh on his mind he could still smell the metallic scent of it. He'd lie if he claimed to not like it. Any demon did, and he was not an exception in that respect. But he took it not because of his preferences, but for her. To keep her by his side. Though she didn't know that. He never told her, he never would. His secret.

A high pitched squeal made him direct his attention towards the window, and he watched as a crow with pitch black feathers, feathers as black as the night sky itself, flew into the room. He raised his hand, and reacting to his commando, the animal landed on it, its claws scraping his skin a little, but he didn't even notice that.

"What brings you here?" he wondered, staring into the jet-black orbs of the animal that blinked at him, naturally not understanding his words. But at least it didn't avoid him. Didn't hate him. He carefully raised his hand to the height of his shoulder, and the crow took it as an invitation to hop on it, where it rested, closing its eyes. Crows were intelligent animals, he'd heard. Then it must've known what he was, and still chose to be friendly with him. Jaejoong cracked a small smile.

"Should I let her go? My greatest treasure?" he wondered aloud, aware that he wouldn't get any reply from a bird. He never received any help in making his decisions, so that was okay. Deep down, though, he knew he wouldn't be able to let her die.

Once his unwithering flower eventually withered, he wouldn't ever pick another.

END.