They sat together in the hot water until Con started to drift off, his head resting on Ella's. With gentle hands, she guided him back through the hotel to his door. Sleepy, Con leaned against the wall as she unlocked it. He shuffled into the room, surprised to find her still in the doorway when he turned.

At his curious head tilt, she gave him a shy smile. "I have a couple things to do in the morning. And..." Her hands twisted together at her waist. "I don't think I'd sleep much if I stayed in here. With you."

Con had to bite his lip to keep from smiling at how sweet she looked. "Okay," he whispered.

Ella looked down, her lashes hiding her eyes. Then she darted forward, grabbing his arm and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Con wasn't fast enough to catch her and pull her into a real kiss. The door shut softly behind her and he let out a long breath before turning toward the bathroom.

After drying off completely and changing back into his sweats, Con fell into bed. 

Sleep claimed him in minutes, dragging him into dreams that sent him running through narrow, twisting streets. He chased familiar shadows and gleams of silver, led by a looping strand of red ribbon that left splatters of blood in its wake.

                                                                                       )~~O~~(

When Con opened his eyes again, he felt much better than he had the last time he woke up. The muscles in his back and neck didn't ache so much and his eyes didn't burn. Even the scratches on his arm didn't sting as much as they had earlier.

When he held his forearm up to inspect the damage he'd inflicted, he was surprised to find little more than a handful of red lines scored across the pale skin. Con sat up, running his thumb over the raised welts. 

Maybe he hadn't scratched himself as badly as he'd thought.

Con lay in bed for a while, fingers tracing the inside of his forearm. He allowed his mind to carefully wander, making sure his thoughts stayed firmly on Ella and Taemin and the fact that he could very easily be in love with both of them.

He allowed himself to imagine what that would be like—both the struggles and the joys. Even without really knowing what a relationship like this would entail, Con was sure there would be plenty of obstacles. He knew he would have to choose between alienating many of his family and friends by being honest with them, or hiding at least half of his life.

More importantly, he knew he risked twice the heartache.

His affection wasn't split evenly between Taemin and Ella. It wasn't that one had half of his heart and one had the other. They each had claim over his entire heart. If he allowed it, he knew he would love Taemin as completely as he would Ella.

When a pressure point in his shoulder began to complain, Con got out of bed, still lost in thought.

He couldn't chose between them. He knew that now. Which left two options: not choosing, as they had suggested, or by removing the choice altogether.

Frankly, the second option would be easier. There would be no entangling of lives. No trying to decide where or how to be together. No risking his heart as he fell more deeply in love.

Con went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. His reflection fixed him with a knowing look. Who are you kidding? it mocked. You're not falling, you already fell. You're just waiting to hit bottom.

He spat toothpaste foam into the sink and turned the faucet on to rinse his mouth. When he turned the water off and looked up again, he shook his head at himself. He remembered that twisting, red ribbon from his dreams.

Who was he kidding? The three of them were already entangled. Bound by too many raw truths and blood.

Con raked his fingers through his hair in lieu of a comb and got dressed. The only thing he knew for sure was this was a decision he absolutely could not make by himself. His nerves suddenly strung themselves tight as he remembered Taemin's battered expression from last night.

Our hearts get broken easily.

It was more than possible that one or both of them would decide they didn't want this to last for longer than the duration of their stay at Haven. 

Con had seen them together. He'd heard more than a handful of their childhood stories. They were fiercely loyal to each other. To hurt one was to hurt both of them. Maybe they would decide Con wasn't worth the risk of not just one, but two broken hearts. Their pain doubled, just as his would be.

He left his room with the vague thought of breakfast. Food would help him think. Instead of carrying him past the officer dozing in a chair outside Marino's room and to the stairs, though, his feet brought him to a dead stop outside Taemin's door.

You need to be careful with him.

How many times had Taemin had his heart broken? Con remembered how quickly his shields had gone up when Con had snapped at him. Chest aching, Con raised a tentative fist, willing himself to knock.

If nothing else, he at least needed to explain that his outburst hadn't been because of anything Taemin had done.

Before he could work up the nerve, the door swung open and Taemin ran right into him. Con stumbled back, his heart suddenly pounding in his throat. Swallowing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Taemin stared at him, eyes wide. He was in a hoodie and joggers, earbuds in and phone in hand. His lips parted for a second, then he blew out a breath, slowly reaching up to take his earbuds out. He blinked at Con, his shoulders bunched up, his overall posture defensive.

"Are you..." Con ventured before biting his lip. Nothing about Taemin's body language said he wanted anything to do with Con at the moment. 

Is this what he should do? Simply allow this fissure to widen until they were back to being little more than strangers? It would pull Ella away as well.

"A run," Taemin said suddenly, his voice rough, like he had a sore throat.

"I...what?"

"I'm going for a run." He paused, wetting what Con could see were chapped lips. His eyes darted to Con's, then down the hall. "Now."

Con took a half step back, lowering his head. "Oh." 

He made to turn away, knowing when he wasn't wanted. A hand on his arm stopped him. He didn't look back as Taemin tightened his grip, fingers digging into Con's biceps for a second before they relaxed. Con cautiously tilted his head, peering at Taemin from the corner of his eye.

Indecision warred over the other man's face. He dropped his hand, Con's stomach dropping right along with it before he held it out to Con, palm up. One of the earbuds sat there in the middle of his hand. Con took it out of reflex.

"Come with me."

Con opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He looked down at his jeans. "C-Can I change my clothes?" he stammered.

Something that might have been a smile tugged at the edge of Taemin's mouth as he slipped past Con. He put the earbud he'd kept in his ear and glanced over his shoulder. "If you think you can catch up."

Con sighed, looking down at his jeans. He'd never been much of a runner. And everything about the lithe build of Taemin's body said he was made for it.

He couldn't bring himself to set fire to this particular bridge.

So, with a disgruntled sigh, Con jogged along the hall, catching Taemin halfway down the stairs. He was rewarded with another brief, almost-smile. They crossed the lobby in silence, Taemin hitting play on his phone. Con put the earbud he'd been given in, flinching slightly at the loud, upbeat music.

As soon as his feet left the porch, Taemin kicked into a jog. Lamenting his life choices, Con lengthened his stride, sure he was going to regret this.

They hit the edge of the trees, Taemin all but gliding over the ground as he started to move faster. Con swore under his breath as Taemin pulled in front of him, gracefully leaping branches and rocks in the path, navigating ankle-destroying dips and hollows in the ground with ease.

Pale sunlight glinted off his silvered hair, a beacon for Con to chase as he attempted not to break an ankle and keep up with Taemin at the same time. Sooner than he wanted, a stitch began to form in his side, the chilly air stripping the back of his throat raw. Taemin showed no sign of flagging any time soon.

Gritting his teeth, Con tried to focus on the music, timing his steps to the beat. The trees blurred past as they wound deeper into the woods.

Finally, when it felt like he'd need a new pair of lungs and every muscle was crying for relief, Taemin began to slow. He slowed more and more and more, until finally, blessedly, he stopped.

Con's own stop was far less elegant as he dropped to his hands and knees, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his face. The area around his kneecap throbbed a dull ache in time with his heartbeat. When it finally felt like he was beginning to pull oxygen into his lungs, Con sat, then sprawled back on the forest floor, closing his eyes.

A shadow fell across him and he looked up to find Taemin bending over him, head cocked curiously. His skin gleamed with a light sheen of sweat, a few strands of hair sticking to his forehead and temples. Annoyed, Con sat up, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the beads of perspiration making his skin sticky and burning his eyes.

He jolted when Taemin stuck a hand in his face.

When he looked up, he found an impassive expression. Tentatively, he took Taemin's hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Taemin dropped his hand. He cast an appraising eye over him.

"We'll walk back," he muttered, sliding his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. The music blaring in Con's left ear abruptly turned to something quieter, smoother. The singer's voice wound clear as a bell through a series of complementary notes.

Con opened his mouth, then shut it when he realized he had no idea what he wanted to say. He bit his lip, falling into step beside Taemin, who didn't give him so much as a sideways glance.

They had walked in silence for maybe fifteen minutes before Con finally realized that he would have to be the one to offer any kind of reconciliation. Feeling more than a little stupid, he stopped walking. Taemin continued a few steps past him, then drew to a halt, shoulders once more tense.

A million things to say rolled around in his head like so many loose marbles. Grimacing at the all-too-apt description, Con took a step forward, then back.

"I..." He cleared his throat. "Taemin, I'm...sorry."

Taemin turned to face him, his black eyes remote as the space between stars. He obviously wasn't inclined to offer Con any help. Something desperate began to pluck at his nerves, bubbling his blood and making anxiety rise like a balloon in his chest.

"I wasn't—it had nothing to do with... It wasn't because I didn't want you touching me."

Taemin just gave a slow blink, his eyes flashing orange-gold, then back to black. Con's fingers strayed to the raw scratches on his forearm, his thumb pressing into the most tender spot he could find. He couldn't afford a break here.

"I think Jones is starting to suspect you." He grimaced, guilt adding to an already dangerous mix brewing in his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the shadow of a tree beginning to twitch.

"And?" Taemin's flat voice made him flinch.

"And..." Con sighed, raking his hands through his hair. "And that's my fault. Because we're...I mean... Because of...me," he finished a little lamely. 

"You—" Taemin broke off with a scoff, shaking his head. "Jones isn't looking at me because of you, pabo. He's looking because..." He trailed off, blinking rapidly. His throat bobbed and he licked his lips. 

Con chanced a step forward. "Because?"

Taemin looked down, watching Con nervously through his lashes. A hand drifted up to his chest, gripping what Con assumed was his fox necklace through his clothes. His breath tripped as he fought through some internal struggle. Con took another step, bringing him just a foot away from the other man.

A gasp wracked him. "Because he's probably found my name alongside a couple unsolved homicides and accidental deaths."

The world seemed to stutter around Con. He couldn't find a response more eloquent than, "Huh?"

Taemin's shoulders hunched higher. "I told you," he whispered. "I told you that this wasn't the first time I've seen a body. I told you...that I was used to it. I just...didn't tell you how used to it I was."

Con held still, brain trying to process what Taemin was saying. It startled him when Taemin looked up, his face pale, a tear leaving a shiny streak down his face before he brushed it away. "I didn't...tell you—"

"Have you ever murdered someone?" Con asked. He winced at the bluntness of his question. Then, he realized he neither wanted nor cared about the answer.

If it was possible, Taemin grew somehow paler. His throat bobbed. "I've—I'm responsible for—"

His words cut off when Con pressed his hand over Taemin's mouth, his other hand going to the back of his head so he couldn't pull away. Taemin didn't try to move, his eyes frightened over Con's hand. His breath puffed rapidly over Con's fingers.

"Don't..." Con shook his head. "Don't tell me right now. Don't tell me until this is done." He loosened his hold, his hands sliding until he cupped Taemin's face. "After...after this is done...then you can tell me."

Taemin's fingers wrapped tentatively around Con's wrists. "I don't want to." He closed his eyes. "I don't want you to stop seeing me because I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster," Con said immediately.

Taemin let out a breathless laugh. "You don't even—"

"You're not." Con met Taemin's eyes. "Monsters don't care about the pain they inflict."

He flinched away from memories of facing the unapologetic drunk driver who'd hit them. The dead, bloodshot eyes that hadn't wavered from Con's. The drawling voice that had pointed out Jenna's own inebriation, never minding the fact that she'd been roofied, not drunk.

Con's fingers slipped into Taemin's hair as he rested his forehead against the other man's. "Monsters don't get their hearts broken," he whispered.

A shudder ran through Taemin, more tears streaking his face. "Con—"

This time, Con cut him off with a kiss. Taemin let out a shaky gasp, kissing him back, his fingers gripping Con's hair. He pressed against Con hard enough that it felt like he was trying to burrow into his chest. Con's arms slid to his back, holding him tight.

None of the kisses they'd shared before had felt quite so desperate.

When Taemin finally pulled away, Con's lips felt bruised and he was slightly dazed, unsure of what had changed. Taemin's chest heaved as he rested his head on Con's shoulder.

They stood like that for a long time, the shadows of the trees shivering around them as the wind began to pick up.

Another storm was brewing.

Con slipped his hand into Taemin's, kissing his knuckles before he pulled him gently into a walk.

"Pabo" translates to "idiot" or "stupid". The "P" makes a soft sound, something between a "p" sound and a "b" sound.