exomeme | part two hundred and twenty

part two hundred and twenty

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Chanyeol drags the dead body into the house the same time Kyungsoo removes every secret in his fridge: The liver, the lungs, Hyungsik’s ring finger. He holds nothing back because if Chanyeol is willing to clean his skeletons out of the closet with a freshly dead body, it’s only fair for Kyungsoo to do the same.

All the jars and unlabeled containers are sitting out in the open on top of the kitchen island, when Chanyeol staggers back in. The body hits the ground with a sickening crunch, splattering the tiles with cooling blood as Chanyeol stands back in horror. He gives a small laugh, full of disbelief and defeat, and slides down to sit on the floor.

“God what did I do?” Chanyeol moans into his arms and Kyungsoo tries to pull him up. Chanyeol shakes in his hold like the ground beneath him is unstable. Kyungsoo looks over to the body and lets out a low whistle. It’s not a pleasant sight.

The body (if you could even still call it that) looks no more than a rump of meat with tatters of clothes glued to it with blood. There’s a limb, maybe an arm that’s been twisted out of shape and the skull looks like it had been cleanly bashed in. There are grave claw marks, slashed down one side of the body and if Kyungsoo peers carefully enough he can see the whites of the rib, peeking out. Looking at Chanyeol in comparison, Kyungsoo is impressed that there isn’t more blood on him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly and Chanyeol stiffens, back arching up. “Look at me Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol looks up slowly, eyes watery. He looks positively green, a strange contrast to the bloodlust barely contained in his eyes. The yellow in his eyes flickers back and forth, disappearing and reappearing under Kyungsoo’s scrutiny.
Kyungsoo leans down, steeling a breath.

Slowly, but with steady hands Kyungsoo hands him a jar with fingers in it. Even in the stark kitchen lighting, he can make out Hyunsik’s finger, its nail having grown post-mortem scratching against the edge of the glass.

There’s something unmistakably and horrifyingly human about hands. With a heart or lungs, Chanyeol could easily delude himself into thinking that this is all an elaborate prank. Kyungsoo wants no misunderstandings between them. If Chanyeol’s truth is already on the tiles in the form of a cooling, thoroughly mutilated body then Kyungsoo’s deserves at least this.

“Well,” Chanyeol says. He swishes the jar back and forth in his hands, mouth twisting as the fingers float up and sink back down. He looks thoroughly disgusted, but amused all the same- eyeing Kyungsoo with reverence that sends shivers down Kyungsoo’s back.

The sloshing of the liquid inside the jar is the only sound in the kitchen for a few moments. Finally, Chanyeol turns away slightly, giving the fridge another careful peek. “Well damn.”

*

Kyungsoo’s first meal had been a boy named Jongin and Kyungsoo tells Chanyeol just as much.

He was a dancer, promising and talented, and utterly charmed by Kyungsoo’s work.

“Tell me what this means,” Jongin asked, eyes sparking in curiosity one afternoon. He had pointed at Kyungsoo’s hand drawn diagram of a heart and the labels upon it. It was an old drawing, done back in Kyungsoo’s first semester in college, but it was still flattering that Jongin thought the world of it.

“It’s a heart and the aortic arch, bursting open,” Kyungsoo says, humoring him with a small smile. “When your heart stops there’s a saying that the arch tries so hard to bring itself back that it sometimes bursts.”

Jongin’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Really,” Kyungsoo confirmed and the mock-sombre note in his voice is enough to finally tip Jongin off.

“Wow quit messing with me hyung,” Jongin whined, swinging his arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder warmly. Kyungsoo locked their fingers together and simply smiled. No promises, no apologies, but it was enough.

6 months later, when car crash stopped Jongin’s heart permanently and his hands went ice-cold, Kyungsoo went to the morgue to pay his respects. His medical license had come in handy before, but never like this.

Jongin’s heart stewed wonderfully, bubbling together with the creamy tomato base and oregano sprinkled on top. Kyungsoo watched amused as Jongin’s heart burst under the heat, aortic arch rupturing into pieces, and wondered if it was out of love. For a second, Kyungsoo allowed himself to miss Jongin- miss his easy laughter and demure smiles, tucked behind stage confidence.

The loneliness didn’t last long though, because by supper Jongin was back with him, forever.

*

Chanyeol listens attentively for the most part, occasionally making gross faces at Kyungsoo’s descriptions. His eyes darken in anger at every mention of Kyungsoo’s lovers and Kyungsoo can see flickers of yellow as he mentions Jongin.

“Did you never guess?” Kyungsoo asks, watching Chanyeol’s expressions carefully. Chanyeol’s nose wrinkles at the smell of formaldehyde and quickly screws the lid over the jar’s grizzly contents.

“Never,” Chanyeol admits. “They way you cooked always smelled weird, but I’ve never tasted it, I mean. I’ve never had human before.”

“No,” Kyungsoo replies, steading his gaze to face Chanyeol head on, “but that’s where you’re wrong.”

Chanyeol’s eyes are wide, still in shock as Kyungsoo takes the jar from him, and unscrews the lid to remove the only body part he had ever been overly sentimental enough to keep preserved.

“Lim Hyunsik,” he addresses and Chanyeol lets out the breath he’s holding as he takes the soggy finger into his hand, giving it an experimental pinch.

“He asked me to marry him,” Kyungsoo says softly, nostalgia sweeping over his senses. “I tried to explain to him why we couldn’t and he didn’t take it very well.”

“I see,” Chanyeol says simply, squeezing the finger in his hands. There’s new respect in his eyes in addition to an emotion Kyungsoo can’t put his finger on as Chanyeol hands him Hyunsik’s. The bloodlust in his gaze has morphed into something deeper, if Kyungsoo didn’t know any better he would have called it devotion.

“What’s the name of the guy over there?” Kyungsoo whispers softly into Chanyeol’s ear. The strands of hair around his temple brush against Kyungsoo’s cheek as Chanyeol holds him tightly chanting back: “I don’t know. I don’t know. It all happened so quickly. I don’t know”

How crude, Kyungsoo thinks, but he links his fingers with Chanyeol to bring him standing over by the corpse. There isn’t much left that’s recognizable and Kyungsoo observes in wonder at the degree Chanyeol had mauled the poor bastard.

“Bon appetite?” Kyungsoo teases and the sick horror that has been on Chanyeol’s face since Kyungsoo emptied the contents of the fridge before his eyes morphs into raw hunger.

Kyungsoo, in all his years of eating finer delicacies, has never been so excited to feast.

*

They cook until the morning, flaying the skin from the meat takes hours and by the time the sun as filled the kitchen window, they’ve packed almost everything away into small freezer bags. Chanyeol watches for the most part, helping tease the skin back and holding the bags open as Kyungsoo slices down to the bone to pick out the juiciest portions of meet.

With about half of the meat cleaned, Kyungsoo runs into a slight problem. The man’s arm is mostly gone, already gnawed down and missing chunks of flesh. Chanyeol looks apologetic as Kyungsoo holds it up with a disdainful look. Chanyeol holds his hand out like he’s going to dispose of the ruined meat, but Kyungsoo shakes his head.

“I don’t waste anything,” Kyungsoo replies simply and Chanyeol ducks his head in compliance, yanking the corpse’s arm back and snapping it cleanly in two. He hands the cleaner half to Kyungsoo who accepts it with a smile. It’s almost cute the way Chanyeol is insecure about his hunting techniques and if Kyungsoo is honest he prefers a swift and painless death to his victims, but it’s Chanyeol’s first time and he’ll get better as they go.

They eat the heart first, mostly because it’s Kyungsoo’s favorite and Chanyeol in particular seems to take a keen interest in how it tastes. They broil it in a clear broth, watching the contents of the pot turn progressively pink like some corny love potion as the heart itself turns a dull, ugly grey color: the color of cooked meat.

Chanyeol helps him wipe the counter clean as Kyungsoo sets up the plates. Kyungsoo slices into it, letting the juices wet the knife, and watches the hunger consume Chanyeol’s features.

“I’d let you eat my heart if you want,” he teases playfully and Kyungsoo is glad to hear that he’s compartmentalizing well enough to light of their situation. Nevertheless, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow over his wine glass.

“That’s gross, Chanyeol,” he replies, “I thought we agreed not to talk about such uncouth topics at the dining table.”

“Of course,” Chanyeol agrees and raises his glass of orange juice in a mock toast. “To the chef who stole my heart through my stomach with another man’s heart.”

“Please shut up,” Kyungsoo laughs, but he raises his glass to meet Chanyeol’s with a cling.

ew but also i rly like it and the ending was cute ;;

anon

i don't feel hungry anymore

strangely i feel hungrier

da and me too

anons why

not for people tho

“Of course,” Chanyeol agrees and raises his glass of orange juice in a mock toast. “To the chef who stole my heart through my stomach with another man’s heart.”

anon i'm screaming

A N O N

this is so.... GREAT ANON /o/

anon i'm giggling

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part two hundred and twenty

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^^

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