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jeongguk, swallowing hard, looks over his shoulder at taehyung who looks back at him, eyelids heavy whilst gulping down heejoon's blood, the red looking violent on his lips. he looks away. "i think i'm going to throw up," is mumbled under his breath.
"please don't. that's disgusting." taehyung murmurs over his glass—his husband's blood, red enough to be mistaken for a wine red, within it, and paired with golden skin and lipsticked grins, taehyung looks like he belongs on a four poster bed, a tray of breakfast on his lap, laden with apricots, walnuts and warm honeyed milk, and lovestruck men wanting him to look their way, waiting by the bed patiently with proposals in their hands. or maybe he belongs on instagram with posts of him in givenchy, holding a pomeranian with an italian leather collar in one hand and in the other hand a dry martini. the post likely to have the words "you peasants wish you were me," underneath it.
wherever he belongs, jeongguk is sure of one thing; he does not belong in a playground with jeongguk and the rest of the young and tired parents that wear pyjama pants with their hair tied back with elastic bands, talking and holding up bags of food to make tonight's dinner with whilst waiting for the nursery to open.
jeongguk finds himself desperately wanting the doors to open already, not liking the way the rest of the parents whisper to each other, glancing at him and taehyung—taehyung who's sat on the hood of his peugeot, his leg placed over his other leg and looking back at the parents, winking at the dads.
looking over his shoulder, jeongguk whispers—not wanting the parents to look at him with more reason, "that's disgusting," and points at heejoon's blood.
"i've seen humans eat things like deep fried mars bars. that's disgusting."
jeongguk look at him with furrowed eyebrows. "you think a deep fried mars bar is more disgusting than a dead body?"
"yeah." taehyung says, swallowing heejoon's remnants. jeongguk looks at him in disbelief, looking away with furrowed brows when taehyung raises an eyebrow in question.
"what are you going to do about your husband? you just left him in your bedroom."
"i don't have any need for him," taehyung shrugs, "i'll dump his body—before you ask, no, i'm not going to tell you where; that's for you policemen to work out."
"then what? you'll look for your new husband?"
taehyung laughs and it's like honey; warm and rich, "yeah," he hums, looking at the policeman, "though maybe i won't have to look far." his words, though playful, have dangerous intent in them and it's made prominent by the flecks of gold in his eyes, glinting in the light. "i haven't had boy in years. i wonder what you'll taste of? deep fried mars bars and deodorant perhaps?"
