the name of us

And then Yoon Jongwoo stumbles into the residence and Moonjo’s heart sings, his body thrums in ways he can’t quite explain. He understands, now, Kihyuk’s desires to learn more, to follow him around like a puppy; he, too, wants to follow Jongwoo around. He’s too smart to get caught properly, though. He becomes a ghost, a hallucination, the only friendly face.“Make him lean on me,” Moonjo orders into the silence of the fourth floor—the silence broken by the giggling of one twin and the jab to his ribs from the other. The pervert grumbles under his breath but he is, Moonjo knows, the easiest to control. He is the one Jongwoo hates the most.Or so he thinks, at least, until Jongwoo finally tells him otherwise. And oh, his blood sings in the honesty of Jongwoo’s words, spit directly into his face, the pure hatred, disgust behind his eyes, and Moonjo smiles.And oh, how his Jongwoo blooms in the fire that burns in the residence. How his Jongwoo shines in the aftermath of the bloodbath, soaked in the blood on his hands. And Jongwoo knows. Jongwoo knows, as Moonjo knew.