five

“A what?” I ask.

Kai isn’t making sense to me, even more so than usual.

“”A muse,” he repeats. “Humans make art and enjoy it but there exists a spirit that fee off of it. Vampires feast on blood, the incubus on dreams and then there is us.”

“Us?”

“Yes, us. Sehun you are a must who feeds on passion. These strange feelings you experience is hunger. You’re starving yourself.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not human?”

“Not in the least. Your parents aren’t your real parents, aren’t I right?”

I nod dumbly.

“This,” he gestures to himself and then to me. “These are just our corporal form. Our true form is as a spirit though we’re born as flesh. We gain our abilities as we feed and grow stronger.”

Kai flits about the room at insane speeds. It is as if he flickered from place to place before he stops beside me on the bed. He leans on me, then through me, causing me to shudder, before leaning back again and away.

“I can do all of this because I am healthy. I dwell near the school because it’s easy to feed there and I sensed you. You were dying.”

“That… that was you then?”

“Me what?”

“The way the building… it… it was like—“

“Like it was alive?” he asks, cutting me off.

I nod. I don’t want to say it out loud and sound crazy so I’m glad he said it for me.

“Sometimes when we’re near a food source we can feel the atmosphere shift. That building in particular is so rich with it that it feels like a pulse. It’s very strong and very heady for someone not used to it. A baby and weak muse like you, for instance.”

I’m not sure if I should be offended at being called a baby but I try not to dwell on it.

“And the sickness? The physical strain I feel? What of that? When I feel that… that pulse that beat of passion I—“

My fingers clench and tighten, bunching the blanket in my hands. My teeth grit together as I remember that singular and pronounced feeling. The hate. The pure unadulterated hate of all things passion. It nauseated me for as long as I can remember, even in my childhood. How could I possibly be made to live off of the thing I hate most?

“You’re starved,” Kai cut off my thoughts. “Nausea, sometimes to the point of vomiting, headaches, anger, fatigue and blackouts: they’re all symptoms of our starvation. You’re killing yourself and the fact you’re around so much food makes the feeling even more acute. I saved you. That feeling when I touched you…”

Kai touches me again, laying his firm hand on the back of my neck. My hairs stand up and that same insane feeling of desire and warmth fills me.

“That’s how it feels,” he says leaning in and whispering in my ear.

I could feel his lips move against the shell of my ear as he spoke and I was glad I was sitting down because I feel like I’m turning into jelly and I cling to his arms.

“That’s how it feels to feed,” he says and let go.

I fall backward onto my bed, chest heaving. Why did it feel like that?

“I passed you some of my energy. You can feed by touching humans, yes, passionate ones or items that hold it. For instance a piano after a recital, the shoes of a dance, the floor of a stage, freshly painted canvas, the list goes on.”

I remain as I am, listening with my eyes trained towards the ceiling. As I listen to Kai and his explanation I feel a calm come over me. What he said sounds like something from the most ridiculous fantasy novel ever. It’s insane and yet I want to believe it. If it were some cult I’d sign my life to it. Not because I want to be a muse or anything. That isn’t it at all. I would really prefer to be a normal teenage boy.

But that’s the thing. I’ve never been just a normal teenaged boy. I was always different and felt different. I was always reticent and detached with no real reason for it. I lived for something I simultaneously hated and now at least I know why.

Humans make art and enjoy it but for a certain typr of spirit they feed off of it. That’s me. I’m Oh Sehun, age 17, specialty violin and I’m a muse.

The muses were always seen as patrons of the arts. Their delicate taste is able to sniff out the best of the best and even the ancient Greeks looked up to them for inspiration. Practicing art is like a bodily process for the muse. I must play my violin, others must write poetry, others still must paint. No matter what the art is you will be compelled to do it from birth and excel. But the other part of the muse is consumption. We must consume art, or more specifically, the passion a human exerts to create it.

It was surreal.

I listened for what seemed like hours until there was a knock on my door and it opens.

Mother loks surprised to not find me alone as I usually am and smiles at Kai in greeting.

“You brought a friend.”

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Kim Jongin.”

I’m surprised. It’s the first I’d heard that name.

“Do you go to the same school as Sehun?”

“Yes, ma’am. I study dance.”

Pleasantries are exchanged and mother leaves after reminding me that dinner was in an hour.

“Dance?” I gape once we’re alone.

“It is my art,” he replies. “And I am in your school for dance. I did say I stick close to that school, right? And I’m not the only one either.”

“You’re not?”

He shook his head.

“No. His name is Yesung but he goes by the name Kim Jongwoon as the vocal teacher. He’s not like me though. Stay out of his way as he can be very territorial.”

I nod numbly.

“Well! I guess that’s that! You totally owe me Sehun. Yesung is way stronger than me and he likely sensed you the moment you first entered the school gate, He’d have let you die.”

I gulped.

“I’ll talk to you more later. Now I guess you know where to find me. And you never know… I might just sneak up on you.”

Kai moves toward the window but I don’t really know how he exits for as soon as I blink he is gone.

-to be continued-

AN: and there you have it! he's a muse! and now u also know what that is. ut now how does that effect his school life and what about tao!? actually i already started on ch 6 and I like writing Tao so much in this story ;~; hahaha thanks for comments and subs and upvotes! I appreciate it somuch!