Chapter Text
Felix lived in a house on the outskirts of town, away from the bustling city, away from the noise, away from people. Chan valued privacy – or at least he used to. Now Chan lived inside the city limits, in a nice house with a white picket fence, in a well-populated neighbourhood.
Felix had been left in this house all alone. Left. Abandoned. Discarded.
He tried not to think of it – his loneliness. But the heavy silence that blanketed the house made it difficult to ignore. He could turn up the volume on the TV, or blast his music as loud as he wanted to, but the lack of conversation, the cold void left by Chan couldn’t be filled.
Felix knew it was bad for his back, but he preferred sleeping on the couch now. It was better than stretching an arm over the empty space on his bed and wishing he’d find Chan’s warmth. He missed hearing the soft thrum of Chan’s heart when he laid his head over his chest, and the little gasps that left his lips as Felix’s fingers and tongue traced patterns on his chest. He missed Chan.
All Felix had left of Chan was the wedding band Chan had placed on his finger when they’d married in Australia four years ago, and an old t-shirt that Chan had left in the hamper before he left; Felix wore both – he never removed the wedding band even after the divorce, and Chan’s t-shirt… The fabric had smelled like him – expensive cologne and that special Chan scent that Felix used to inhale every time he buried his face in Chan’s neck. So Felix had worn it every night until it only smelled like sweat and nothing of Chan remained in it. Still, it was there on his dresser, unwashed and waiting for Felix to take it into his arms as he pined for Chan again.
Felix should have been able to move on. He should have been able to eat with tasting cardboard. He should have been able to smile, to laugh, to go out with Seungmin and Jisung for a drink or two. He should have been able to function, but he couldn’t. It was as if when Chan left, he’d taken an integral part of Felix with him – the part that made laughter and love and life possible.
He’d begged Chan not to leave him. He’d fallen to his knees and pleaded, had cried until he’d run out of tears. Chan had left him like that – on his knees on the living room floor. “This just doesn’t work anymore, Lix,” Chan had said, giving him one final look before stepping outside, the door closing with a click behind him.
For a long time Felix had wondered why Chan thought it wasn’t working out. In Felix’s eyes, everything had seemed perfect. They had still been a two piece puzzle that fit perfectly together. They laughed with each other, went on dates, made love every night, and cherished each other the way they vowed that they always would.
So Felix had wondered what caused the sudden change, the impulsive decision to leave. And then he saw the reason with his own eyes.
Felix had caused quite a scene at the supermarket when he saw them together. Chan had been holding a shopping basket, and Minho had been smiling up at him, his fingers combing through Chan’s dark hair as they openly flirted with each other.
Felix failed to keep a leash on his anger. And who could blame him? He’d shoved Minho back with so much force that the redhead had crashed into a shelf. Felix had lunged for him then, and he would’ve done more damage if Chan hadn’t held him back.
“Stop it, Felix,” Chan had said firmly, his words edged with exasperation as if Felix went around causing chaos at supermarkets all the time. “Just stop. What the hell is wrong with you?”
And then Chan proceeded to take care of Minho .
Felix had been seething. He’d responded by hurling objects off the shelves, yelling at Chan about how betrayed he’d felt. And he had felt betrayed. Betrayed and hurt. “Is he the reason?” Felix had demanded. “Is he the reason you left me?”
“Felix, you’re jumping to conclusions and overreacting.”
That had sent Felix spiralling. He fell to his knees, throwing his head back and screaming until his screams dissolved into sobs. For a while after that, Felix would remain holed up inside the house, ashamed of what people around town would think of him.
He’d heard the whispers as Chan had apologised to the supermarket manager, compensating for the damages with a large sum of money . A nervous breakdown , they all said.
Chan had taken him home that day, after making sure that Minho was alright. Felix hated Minho. Even Chan didn’t want to admit it, he knew that Minho was the cause of their failed marriage.
Chan refused to jump out of the car. As if he was afraid that if he stepped inside, he wouldn’t want to leave again. Felix couldn’t understand why he didn’t just give in to that fear. “Come back home,” he urged. Because he was ready to welcome Chan with open arms. “Just come back, Channie. You know you want to. So why are you fighting it?”
Chan had only given him a withering look. “It’s over between us, Felix. It’s been over for a while. Go,” he’d jerked his head towards the house as if dismissing a pet.
Minho’s fault. This was Minho’s fault.
Maybe it was Felix’s fault too. He could’ve prevented all this. Maybe he hadn’t doted enough on Chan. Maybe the sex hadn’t been good enough. Maybe he was too boring. Maybe he was too ugly. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough.
Maybe his love wasn’t enough.
Those thoughts ran through Felix’s mind like a record player, spinning around and around and around, the same tune on replay.
So as much as Hyunjin scared Felix, Felix had been glad for the distraction he provided.
Felix always knew that all was not well with Hyunjin. The very first time they’d met, he saw the unhinged look in the man’s eyes, as if he wanted to lunge across the glass table and wrap his paint-covered hands around Felix’s neck.
Now that hateful, arrogant gaze had more than just a touch of burning anger in them. Hyunjin’s fingers were clenched into fists. His half buttoned shirt revealed a chest that heaved with unfettered rage. “What do you mean? Why can’t you accept this? I spent two months on this! Two fucking months!” He slammed a hand onto the table, the glass rattling.
Felix inspected the table for any cracks before he grimaced at the painting on the easel, unable to look for too long at the utter grotesqueness of the image. “Hyunjin, this is… It’s really unacceptable, I really don’t mean to be so blunt but there’s no other way to put it – it’s ghastly.”
“Ghastly?” Hyunjin let out a disbelieving laugh and shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the tiles. The horrid screech drowned out the soft sounds of Vivaldi that Felix always had playing in his office. The artist strode over to his painting, running his fingers along the edge of the canvas as if placating a crying child. He looked over his shoulder, fixing Felix with a hard stare. “This is my best work. And you’re insulting it this way? You’re insulting me this way?”
Felix kept his cool. He had enough experience to know how to deal with artists who held that kind of superiority complex. “Mr Xiang commissioned you to paint a stunning night view of the Han River.” It was supposed to be an anniversary gift for his son and daughter-in-law who had met at the river two years ago. He’d been an admirer of Hyunjin’s previous pieces and had insisted that the painting be done by him. “This is not what he asked for.”
The painting that Hyunjin had revealed today, made Felix’s stomach turn. It depicted two men having sex on a river bank. The river had been painted with strokes of deep red, as if blood flowed through instead of water. A single hand protruded from the depths of blood, a gold ring visible on one finger – a wedding band, perhaps.
“Fuck you and fuck your client,” Hyunjin spat, throwing a cotton sheet over his precious painting.
“As per the contract,” Felix went on, unbothered, “you can keep ten percent of the pre-payment. You have thirty days to either produce the painting that you were commissioned for, or return the rest of payment. Do you have any questions?”
Felix tensed when Hyunjin circled around the table, coming to a stop beside Felix. Security was just one shout away. Hyunjin braced a hand on the table, long blonde hair falling over his face as he leaned down so that his mouth was a hair’s breadth away from Felix’s ear. “You can take the money. All of it. But watch your back, Felix. Because I’ll be watching you.”
It was an elementary level threat but Felix shuddered all the same. And when he left his office, he made sure that a security guard accompanied him to his car.
Later that night, Felix would receive the first of many emails from Hyunjin that would end up taunting and tormenting him for months on end.
It was a filthy email that Felix read while he tried to coax himself to eat a bowl of cereal. He stared at his laptop screen in disgust.
I really want to kill you, Felix. But first I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to paint you with my cum, make you my canvas.
Felix hurriedly closed the laptop, using the back of his sleeve to wipe the milk dribbling over his chin. “What the fuck?”
He didn’t know why Hyunjin was taking it so badly. There was no way he thought that painting was what Mr Xiang had actually commissioned. It was laughable, really.
He hesitated before taking another look at the email. I’m going to fuck you… paint you with my cum… my canvas.
That night, Felix dreamed of Hyunjin. He dreamed of being fucked by Hyunjin, of the artist’s sweat-dampened hair brushing over Felix’s face as he whispered, “My canvas,” and then proceeded to spurt his cum over Felix’s chest.
Felix woke up that morning with his underwear sticky, and his face burning with shame. What would Chan think of him?
Over time, the tone of Hyunjin’s emails began to grow darker and more detailed. And Felix really should have reported him – this was a crime, right? Harassment? But Felix never reported anything. Instead, he found himself eagerly awaiting the emails, and the dreams that followed.
Going to cut your throat open while my cock is inside you. I’ll paint myself with your blood. It’ll be such a pretty picture.
Felix dreamed of being stretched open by Hyunjin’s cock, of being fucked mercilessly, his face pressed into the pillows. When he was close, Hyunjin dug his fingers into Felix’s scalp, gripping a fistful of his hair and pulling him upright. He continued thrusting his hips, his cock grazing Felix’s prostate at a euphoria-inducing angle. And he placed his knife over Felix’s throat, “Ready to die?” Felix whimpered his assent before the knife slid across his throat.
He woke up clutching his throat, eyes wide as he frantically checked his hands for blood. Nothing. Just a dream.
He glanced at the gap between the curtains. It was still dark out. Something caught his eyes then. A shadow passing the living room window. And the crunch of grass. There was someone outside.
Felix edged towards the curtain, his hand trembling as he touched the fabric. He’d completely avoided horror movies since Chan left, but wasn’t this a cliché scene from a horror movie? A scared person home alone hears a noise outside. They pull back the curtain and there’s a face pressed to the window – the stuff of nightmares. And here Felix was about to complete that cliché.
He hesitated and pulled his hand back. It was probably just the tree branches swaying in the wind, or a stray.
But something darker crossed his mind then. What if it was Hyunjin?
He shook his head. Tree or stray – not Hyunjin. He wasn’t going to feed his imagination anymore nonsense.
When Felix woke up a few hours later, warm sunlight streamed through the curtains. He stretched his arms and yawned. He didn’t remember falling asleep after his little scare last night. Tree or stray… He scoffed and pushed to his feet. He had to get to work soon.
Showered and dressed, Felix sat at the little breakfast nook in the kitchen, staring at the chalkboard propped up on the kitchen counter. Depending on who left for work first, Felix and Chan would leave messages on the board for each other. Sometimes just a simple, ‘I love you’, sometimes reminders to eat and stay hydrated, sometimes a song recommendation to listen to in the car.
Felix crossed over to the chalkboard and searched the drawer for a piece of chalk – he found only a small, white stub. He scrawled on the board: I miss you.
Outside, the leaves of the cypress trees danced in the breeze, and he lifted his face to the sun. No matter how long he stood in the sun, he always felt cold. It was the kind of cold that seeped through his skin and into his bones. Into his soul.
He started towards his car but froze in place, a smattering of color catching his eye. There on the wall just beside the living room window.
Someone had painted something.
Felix drew closer, his chest constricting. Similar to the couple on the riverbank that Hyunjin had painted, the two figures on the wall were having sex. Chan and Minho. Felix knew it was them because the detail was immaculate – every facial feature painted to perfection. He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed at the strange shape above Minho’s head.
Oh.
A knife protruded from Minho’s skull. The mouth that Felix thought was opened in pleasure, was actually opened in pain. Felix spotted the trickle of blood marring Minho’s perfect face. Chan seemed unaware, his lips still wrapped around Minho’s dick, his eyes closed.
Felix turned on his heel as if he expected Hyunjin to be waiting for him. Had he left after he painted this – this awful thing? Where was he?
He shook his head and retrieved a bucket and some soap, beginning to scrub down the wall. The sharp lines of the painting fused into a blur of color on the wall. It was fine. At least the crude image wasn’t visible anymore.
He wrapped his arms around himself, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. He retreated back into the house, locking the door behind him.
He searched the kitchen drawer for a knife, leaving it on the table where it would be accessible if he needed it. If Hyunjin—
Felix stared at the chalkboard. His message from earlier had been erased, a new one left in its place:
But he doesn’t miss you
It only took a quick search of the house – knife in hand – to determine that Hyunjin wasn’t there. But he’d been there. The words on the chalkboard were evidence enough of that, to Felix at least. He couldn’t call the police. They’d think he was crazy.
A few months passed, all in a similar fashion – with Felix huddled in the corner of the living room, clutching a knife, barely eating, barely sleeping.
Hyunjin kept taunting him. Sometimes with an email, until Felix fixed that and his laptop and phone were both piles of glass, plastic and metal parts strewn across the floor.
Sometimes Hyunjin would circle the house at night, the sound of overgrown grass crunching beneath his shoes. But the worst nights were those when Felix would hear footsteps dragging through the hallway.
He didn’t know how Hyunjin was doing it. He had some way to get in and out of the house without Felix seeing. Felix had moved everything around trying to find it – some door that he and Chan hadn’t known about when they bought the house. But he just couldn’t find it. Hyunjin was smart. Too smart.
He needed someone just as smart on his side.
The phone rang once, twice, thrice before, “Hello?”
Felix blinked in confusion, fingers anxiously raking through his hair. Why was Jisung answering Seungmin’s phone? “Uh, Ji, I wanted to talk to Seung—”
“Seungmin is dead.”
It took a few seconds for Felix to process. Seungmin. Dead. Can’t be right. “Jisung, why would you say that?”
“Because he’s fucking dead!” Jisung yelled. “And it’s your fault, Felix! All your fault!”
Felix began to whimper, shaking his head. “No – no, you can’t – it can’t be true.”
“He killed Seungmin.”
“Who?” Felix’s eyes grew wide. He knew the answer. He just needed to hear it.
“That guy. The one with long hair and eyes like the devil.”
“Hyunjin…” Felix’s eyes darted around the living room as if saying his name would conjure him out of thin air.
“And he’s going to kill everyone you love. Unless…”
“Unless?” Felix straightened, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Jisung, what does he want?”
The line went dead.
The air had filled with an intense yet familiar smell. Paint.
Felix followed the smell to the kitchen. What he saw made him balk. Images of a dead Minho were painted across the kitchen walls. Minho with a knife in his chest. A headless Minho with his head lying at his feet. Minho with his torso cut open, intestines spilling.
Felix backtracked, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. I won’t do any of that for you!” he yelled at Hyunjin. He knew the artist was somewhere around. The paint was still wet.
Warm breath ghosted Felix’s neck and he fell silent, frozen in place and hardly daring to breath. “Won’t do it?” the artist whispered. “Then will you be my canvas? Like your friend Seungmin. I cut him up so prettily. Or maybe I can do the same to Chan? Your precious Chan…”
Felix clenched his jaw. “I’ll do it.”
Felix wasn’t sure how he knew where Minho lived. He just knew. Like that information was programmed into his brain. He’d never been in this part of town before. It was a quiet residential neighbourhood and at this time of night there was no one around.
He stood on the porch, staring at the keypad beside the door. He knew the code, somehow. How did he know?
The house was quiet, like it was waiting with bated breath for Felix to carry out his task. He made as little noise as possible as he walked down the hallway, checking each room he passed.
Minho was sound asleep in his bed. Felix began to tremble, his entire body shaking with fear. What was he doing? What was he doing? What was he doing?
Saving Chan.
It was worth it. Chan was definitely worth it.
He hovered over Minho, taken aback when Minho’s eyes opened. The man blinked, adjusting to the dark before his gaze shifted to Felix and the knife hovering over him. His eyes widened and before he could scream, Felix plunged the knife into his chest. Again and again and again and again… Felix couldn’t stop. His arms moved mechanically plunging the knife in and out, blood spraying over his face.
When his arms felt as weak as his knees, he slumped to the ground. Strong arms wrapped around him. “You did well,” Hyunjin told him. “So well. I couldn’t have done it better myself. Now, there’s just one more thing you have to do. For Chan, alright?”
Chan always told Felix that they would get through anything as long they still had love for each other. But what happens when you give all the love you have to give and it’s still not enough?
You give whatever is left. You give your life.
Felix let Hyunjin place the knife in his hand again, this time turned towards himself. Felix closed his eyes and slid the blade across his throat.
Maybe he would be enough for Chan now.