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Assistant: Title: a handshake of carbon monoxide
        Author: FroyoBoyo FroyoBoyo 
        Chapter: 8/8 
        Summary: "I'm not like you," Jongwoo insists, hand tightening around the baton now falling limply at his side.The lights flicker inside the cell and for a brief, gut-churning moment Moonjo's impassive facade drops. Between the flash of the bulb overhead, his smile stretches impossibly wide, a tiger baring its fangs.Or; Jongwoo is the new prison guard and catches the attention of notorious serial killer Seo Monjoo.
        Contents: Chapter 8
    

    


      
        
          Happy Valentine's day. Enjoy the food. I wrote this while I had the flu AND I got my period. You better LIKE itALSO!! I should probably let people know that this story is coming to a close. Just a warning, there aren't many chapters left! Maybe one, maybe even two...Just a heads up!
      
  

  
  
    
    Jongwoo isn’t entirely present for the remainder of his shift. Moonjo allows the stilted silence. He’s practically  glowing. It nearly blinds Jongwoo to look at him. So he doesn’t. The panic is a distant, oncoming thing. A steady drumbeat, pounding toward his conscience. Any moment now, Jongwoo will feel it. The regret, the shame, the guilt. It will overwhelm him. But for now, he stands with his back rigidly straight, hands clasped behind him. Something is screeching,  squealing.  Like a kettle left on the stove, at its boiling point. It’s all in his head, but Jongwoo cringes away from the sound, jerking to one side. It’s so  loud. He wants it to stop. 
   How can he make it stop? 
Jongwoo begins to pace. He needs something to hold, something to squeeze. Anything to leak his tension into and have it leave for good. He grabs his baton and twists it between his hands as he walks back and forth. But then he feels the slight dampness, right on the edge. Where Moonjo’s mouth was. He shoves the baton back into his holster, a harsh noise of frustration escaping him. “Come here, darling,” Moonjo is standing at the cell door, his hand outstretched. Jongwoo feels his teeth click together as his jaw tightens. “No.”Moonjo tuts and motions with his hand, curling his fingers inward. When Jongwoo makes no move to obey, his eyes grow huge and his head tilts, eerie and slow. He coaxes, softly, “Please?”Jongwoo curses under his breath. He walks over to Moonjo. It’s an innate reaction, a phantom tug that tightens at his stomach. Moonjo tries to reach out to him, just shy of touching Jongwoo’s tie like he means to pull him in.“The cameras,” Jongwoo reminds him sharply. But he doesn’t step away. The screeching has dimmed to a low simmer, tucked in the back of his mind. Moonjo turns his head, eyeing the security camera that lurks in the top corner of the corridor. He hums, considering. “That’s a shame,” His hand draws back and comes to wrap around his own throat. “I thought you might benefit from releasing a little aggression.”“What?” Jongwoo swallows around the lump that forms in his throat. “You mean-?”“Don’t you want to feel my life in your hands?” Moonjo asks, fingers stroking up and down, tracing his neck. “You’re so tense, darling. And I told you that I’d let you do anything to-”“Yes, alright, I get it,” Jongwoo cuts him off hurriedly, looking to the side in an attempt to remain composed.“Would you do it if there were no cameras?” Moonjo urges, and Jongwoo can see him edge closer in his peripheral vision. He turns back, his eyes following the line of Moonjo’s throat. He can almost imagine it, his fingers digging in, the raspy breaths, the flushed, adoring face that would stare back at him. His hand twitches.There’s no need for a verbal answer. His body has spoken for him. Moonjo grins and his hand falls away from his throat. “Maybe there’s someone else that you can test your anger on. Someone a little more accessible.”“Oh, yeah? Like who?” Jongwoo’s tone is derisive, scornful. A facade for his curiosity. “I’m sure you can come up with a few contenders.”“I don’t know why I’m entertaining this,” Jongwoo scoffs, scratching the back of his head irritably. “It’s just something to think about,” Moonjo says mildly. “You’re so helpful.” “I know.”They stare at each other. Moonjo is smiling. Jongwoo is trying not to. He chews on the inside of his cheek, settling his expression into a stern frown. “Don’t get cute with me,” He says.Moonjo huffs out a laugh. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but the hallway door opening stops him. He retreats further into his cell, creating a distance between them that makes Jongwoo’s stomach tug again, the invisible force growing taut. “Jongwoo, listen, I promised I’d let you get off work early in exchange for a favour,” Jaeho calls out to him as he makes his way down the corridor. He looks antsy, an unhappy slant to his mouth. “A favour? For who?”“For Jieun, alright? She wants to see you tonight,” Jaeho comes to a stop in front of him, hands on his hips. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just the messenger.”“And why  are  you the messenger for her?” Moonjo asks suddenly, his arms folding over his chest. His eyes are flinty as he glances from Jaeho to Jongwoo. His body is stiff, unmoving. “I’m sorry, was I talking to you?” Jaeho casts his gaze over Moonjo in disbelief, eyebrows raising. The air around them seems to grow cold. Moonjo lowers his head, bringing a hand up to fiddle with his bottom lip. The sound he makes after is rough, agitated. “Just ignore him,” Jongwoo says quickly. He’s watching Moonjo. Their eyes meet.“You’re right, a waste of time and energy,” Jaeho laments from beside Jongwoo, oblivious. He hits Jongwoo on the shoulder. “Well, get going. Wouldn’t want to keep the lovely Jieun waiting, eh?”Moonjo is staring at him. Jongwoo can’t quite read the expression on his face, but he knows from the small crease in his brow and the darkness that covers his eyes that it’s nothing good. And then, for the first time since leaving the shower room, it comes, prodding at Jongwoo from all sides. Guilt. “Jongwoo? Hello? You can  leave, ” Jaeho shakes him. Jongwoo blinks, turning to look at Jaeho dumbly.“Right…” He mumbles, taking a step back. He sneaks another look at Moonjo. It’s a mistake.While there is a familiar bitterness, a deep-set anger that emanates, there is also something much worse.  Sadness.  It glimmers in his eyes, it sets around his mouth. Jongwoo’s breath hitches on it, and his chest stings. He hesitates.“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jongwoo tells him.Moonjo doesn’t reply. He merely sits on his bed, foot tapping erratically against the floor. His arms are still crossed. He doesn’t look up again.Jongwoo refuses to hover for a second longer. Hands clenched and thoughts hazy, he heads down the corridor without looking back. Jieun meets Jongwoo outside of his apartment building. She’s clutching a plastic bag, and she holds it out for him as he approaches, a nervous smile gracing her face. “Ah, oppa! I got you something,” She leans over and plants a kiss on his cheek, her perfume wafting around him. It’s cherry-scented, as always. She takes him in, a blush spreading across her face. “You look so handsome in your uniform.”“Oh, thanks,” Jongwoo says absently. His hand shakes slightly as he takes the bag from Jieun. He can barely look her in the eye. He gestures vaguely to the entrance. “Let’s go up, come on.”Jieun clings to him on the elevator ride to his apartment. Jongwoo shifts under her grip, changing the hand that holds the bag nearly every other second. The walls close in on him, his brow shines with sweat. Jieun doesn’t appear to notice anything off about him. It’s salt in a wound that’s beginning to fester.They make it through his front door. Jongwoo toes off his shoes and watches as Jieun does the same. His heart thumps loudly and the grating, screeching sound has risen in volume. It’s  constant.  “Open it now, oppa,” Jieun encourages as he sets the bag on the small kitchen counter. With a restrained sigh, Jongwoo reaches inside, pulling out a small, dark blue box. It’s minimalistic in its packaging, and there’s a black, silk bow wrapped around the top. Jongwoo pulls it gently, lets it unravel onto the counter, and lifts the lid.“Oh,” He says faintly. It’s a watch. An  expensive  one. It glints in the dull lighting of Jongwoo’s apartment. A treasure amongst mediocrity. Jongwoo clears his throat, struggling to speak. “Do you like it?” Jieun asks him.
   No. 
“Yes,” Jongwoo smiles, the corners of his mouth stretching too tight.Jieun sighs in relief. “You’re so hard to read sometimes.”Jongwoo puts an arm around her and kisses the side of her head. He presses his face into her hair, hiding the hot flush of tears that threaten to spill over.“Let me make you something to eat,” He murmurs.“Don’t worry too much, oppa. Nothing fancy.”Jongwoo makes them ramyeon, cheap and easy. It’s what he would eat if he was alone. But he sees the pinched look on Jieun’s face, and he knows that he’s faltered somewhere, misstepped. The noodles taste like ashes in his mouth. He chews slowly, the hot sting of tears comes to the surface again, so he ducks his head.“I wanted to say…” Jieun begins, wavering a little once Jongwoo continues to eat, eyes downcast and distant. She grabs the cuff of his shirt and drags his hand forward across the table to meet hers in the middle. She caresses it carefully, and Jongwoo feels the noodles scrape down his throat, suddenly too slimy and thick.“Yes?” He prompts.Jieun bites her lip. “I’m sorry, oppa. I was a little stressed when I texted you before. I didn’t stop and think. I don’t want you to think I’m choosing Jaeho over you.”Jongwoo stares at her for a moment. The brand-new watch sits to the side of them, patiently waiting. For someone to clasp it around their wrist, a shackle to domestic bliss. It’s waiting for him. To come to his senses and fall back into the world of numbness. His throat clicks as he prepares to speak. Jieun is one step ahead of him.“I only said I’d go because he kept nagging me. He called me while I was still at work, can you believe that?” She shakes her head, letting out a soft laugh. “And I know how hard he’s been on you at the prison, oppa. You haven’t been yourself.”A muscle in Jongwoo’s cheek jumps. He nods along, lets himself fade into oblivion. The longer he basks in Jieun’s presence, the easier it is to convince himself that she’s being truthful. The easier it is to convince himself that he belongs here. “It’s been hard,” Jongwoo says, voice cracking. The tears return to the surface, and before he knows it, he’s shaking from it, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes in mortification. Jieun gasps, and she leaps up from her chair, coming around to pull him into a gentle hug. Jongwoo presses his face into her shoulder, his tears staining her blouse. The show of comfort makes things worse, and he scrunches his eyes shut, a small, distressed sound erupting from deep within him.Jieun smooths a hand down his back. “It’s not Jaeho, I know. It’s that man. You just need to get him out of your system.”Jongwoo breathes out, going still. His eyes open, his hands go loose around Jieun’s body.
   Get him out of your system. 
The words coil around him, hissing, entreating, urging. 
   Get him out of your system. 
“Oppa? Jongwoo?” Jieun’s voice makes him flinch and he draws back. She looks down at him. Jongwoo stands, nearly knocking her backwards in his haste.“Will you put the watch on me?” He asks, already picking it up and holding it out for her to take.Jieun blinks at him. “Oh. Of course, sure,” She pauses, looking him over, eyeing the wetness on his cheeks. “Are you sure that you’re-”“I’m fine,” Jongwoo wipes at his face and pushes the watch into her hands. “I want you to put it on me.”Jieun’s mouth thins, but she slowly fastens the watch around Jongwoo’s wrist, adjusting it so that it fits. She doesn’t quite succeed. It’s too tight. But Jongwoo doesn’t object, and he doesn’t fix it. “There. It suits you.”Jongwoo turns his wrist, wincing as the silver catches the light, glaring into his eyes. He nods, quick and firm. “It’ll be good for when I’m at work.”Jieun touches his arm, feather-light. “You understand about Jaeho, right? I’m only trying to be a good friend.”Jongwoo puts on another man’s skin. A man who accepts the bare minimum, who doesn’t dare question the cracks in his life, splintering him in half. It was who he was pretending to be before all of this. It doesn’t wrap around him as comfortably as it did then, and there is an off-putting imbalance to it that has him grinding his teeth, a small rebellion. “I understand,” He says, his smile polite and practised. But if Jieun would bother to look closer, to read his eyes, she would see the emptiness, the apathy. “That’s why I love you, oppa,” Jieun giggles, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Jongwoo doesn’t lean into it, but he doesn’t lean away either. He’s stuck in limbo, within the confines of indifference.He can’t bring himself to kiss her goodbye before she leaves. There’s something that has shifted within him. He has a plan, a  mission. Until the last tendrils of Seo Moonjo’s influence have been drained out of him, Jongwoo won’t cross that line with her. He’s stalling, creating an imaginary window of time for him to give in, to indulge.It starts that evening. He doesn’t restrain himself. He invites the need, the desire. Just for a little while. Every stroke, every touch, he revels in it, allows himself to acknowledge the person he’s longing for. The figure that looms over him that night isn’t a beastly thing. He’s human, so devastatingly human. And Jongwoo comes to the thought of him yielding underneath him.The next morning comes with a sense of clarity. Jongwoo dresses for work mechanically, that incessant screeching noise a constant companion to his every waking moment. He hardly notices it now. He makes it to work, dark-eyed and itching for something that he can’t voice. He isn’t surprised to find Moonjo sitting on his bed, arms still crossed and stare almost  accusing. “Don’t tell me you’ve stayed like this for the whole night.”“No,” Moonjo says flatly. Jongwoo sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Moonjo’s gaze follows the shape of his wrist, and Jongwoo watches as his expression morphs into something downright menacing.“I didn’t realise you were so easily bought,” His tone is dangerously soft.The shame that comes is almost too much for Jongwoo to process. He scowls, pulling his sleeve down further to hide the watch from Moonjo’s searing stare. “It’s not like that.”Moonjo rises, quicker than Jongwoo expects. He prowls forward, shoving himself up against the door, one hand coming up to clench around one of the bars. His knuckles whiten. His face evens out into a pretence of tranquillity, but he speaks through his teeth around a fake smile. “Oh, really? What is it like, then?”“It’s none of your-”Moonjo’s hand whips out, grabbing hold of Jongwoo’s tie. He yanks him forward and Jongwoo staggers into the door, cursing as his knee bangs against the metal. Moonjo is intoxicatingly close. Jongwoo can feel his breath, can see the way his eyes sharpen. His face grows hot under the scrutiny, and he makes to break away, to try and step back, but Moonjo’s mouth twists and he hauls him in close again.“Darling, I thought I’d made myself clear,” He tips his head down further and  inhales,  like he’s breathing Jongwoo in, committing him to memory. “Once I bite, I never let go.”Jongwoo lets out a tiny sigh. It shakes, and he shivers around it, angling his head upwards in pathetic hope. He wants to feel Moonjo’s fingertips brush along his skin, marking him, claiming him.“You’re not good for me,” He finds himself saying, hushed. Moonjo’s fingers coil themselves tighter around his tie, straining Jongwoo’s neck, making him lean back to ease the pressure.“Who told you that?” Jongwoo struggles to respond, his mouth trembling on the words that he can’t say. Moonjo sees the cracks in his armour, he sees, and he rips inside. “Was it your girlfriend? I don’t think she understands,” He murmurs, head c@cking to one side. “Was I not good for you yesterday?”Jongwoo’s veins turn to liquid under Moonjo’s heated stare. He swallows thickly. His body reacts before he can try and contain himself. And this- This  is what he needs to fix. “You need to let go of me before someone spots this on the video feed,” Jongwoo says lowly. He places a hand on top of Moonjo’s, biting the inside of his cheek at the contact. He tugs, urging him to release the tie.Moonjo doesn’t budge. He shakes his head, something stubborn crossing his features. “I don’t want to.”“But you have to,” Jongwoo tells him, tapping a finger along the back of his hand for emphasis.“Don’t see her again.” It’s less of an order and more of a plea. “Moonjo,” Jongwo says, impossibly quiet. “Let go of me.”Moonjo’s hand drops, as if under a spell. He looks oddly vulnerable as he stands there, arms at his sides and face pale. Jongwoo has a deluded urge to reassure, to comfort. He does neither.“You shouldn’t grab people like that,” Is the only thing he says before he starts down the corridor, making his way to the stairwell door. “Where are you going?” Moonjo asks after him, melancholic. Jongwoo glances back as he walks away, noting the lost look on the other man’s face. His ribs ache at the sight, and he’s speaking before he can stop himself, because he has to,  needs  to erase that forlorn, pitiful expression. “I’m just going to look into something, that’s all,” He holds his hands up, placating. Moonjo shifts, his features softening.“Okay,” He says, shoulders losing their tense edge.Jongwoo sucks his teeth and carries on walking, furious that he caved so quickly. One sad, pathetic look and he’s putty in Moonjo’s hands. 
   It has to stop. 
The search for Jaeho doesn’t take long. His voice is so loud, so obnoxious, that Jongwoo follows it right into the large office space. The one that isn’t meant for lowly guards like him. Jaeho spots him instantly from where he’s lounging against a desk, halfway through explaining his whole life story to some poor middle-management employee who looks like she wants to fling herself out the nearest window. He points at Jongwoo. “Yah, Jongwoo! What are you doing down here? Don’t you have a serial killer to babysit?”“I wanted to ask you something, sir,” Jongwoo comes to a stop in front of them and bows, short and sweet.Jaeho makes a show of basking in the display of deference, waving his hands out in front of him. “Oh goodness, Jongwoo, have you finally learned to respect your superiors? This is a big day. We should get some cake.”The woman beside him laughs along with him, but she’s inching away, intent on a discrete exit. Jaeho lets her go, fickle enough to not care for a goodbye.“Well, you see,” Jongwoo pauses, ensuring that hesitance colours his words. He looks down, dragging out the silence.Jaeho takes the bait, puffing his chest out. “Don’t be scared to tell me anything, Jongwoo. I’m your senior, you can come to me if that nut case is giving you more trouble.”“He grabbed me again. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I was wondering…” Jongwoo trails off, chewing his bottom lip. He sets his eyes on Jaeho, widening them. “Can I have a look at the security footage from when he strangled that other guard?”Jaeho frowns at him. “Why would you want to see that?”“I think it would make me feel more prepared. I’d be able to see what  not  to do. I’m always so on edge here, you know.”“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Jaeho admits, fingers drumming on the desk. “But I’m a little busy right now to show you, I’ve just had Saturday’s night shift guard call in sick, some sort of bereavement, or whatever.”“You mean the person that patrols Unit A when I’m not there?” Jongwoo asks, heart in his throat. “Yeah, well, sort of. It’s the night shift, there’s less going on. Not very social.”The screeching builds and builds, it rings in his ears, it reaches out. It’s pushing him towards something. Jongwoo  leaps. “I’ll take the shift,” He says casually. “What? You will?” Jaeho does a double take, then a triple take. “It’s a Saturday and  a night shift.”Jongwoo smiles, self-deprecating. “I need the money. Plus, it can be an exchange, a favour for a favour,” His head tilts, and then, “Like you have with Jieun.”Jaeho’s cheeks redden and he nods, avoiding eye contact. “Alright, if you’re sure. The CCTV office is past the reception and to the left. I, uh, have some things I need to deal with, higher-up things, you don’t need to worry.”And then he’s leaving, tail between his legs. Jongwoo contains the scoff that bubbles up in his throat. He turns, scanning the desk absently. A flash of neon green catches his eye and he falters.Moonjo’s tennis ball is tucked into the corner of Jaeho’s desk. Jongwoo snatches it up, pockets it, and heads to the security office.It’s not empty when he arrives, and he has a tough time convincing the bored man sitting at the monitors to budge over and that  yes,  he has permission, thank you. Jongwoo almost loses his nerve, facing the many screens. It seems more complex than he had assumed. “Excuse me,” He says, tentative. The man rolls his neck lazily, angling his head towards him. Jongwoo gestures awkwardly to the screen in front of him. “I need to use this monitor, just for a moment. How would I gain access to footage from more than a month ago?”“What’s this for?” The man grumbles, wheeling his chair over with his feet.Jongwoo scratches the skin above his eyebrow. “I’ve been given permission to go over the footage from when Seo Moonjo attacked that guard. Seeing as I’m the replacement and all.”The man clucks his tongue. “Bad luck, son. Here, move over. I’ll show you.”Jongwoo tracks his every move, cataloguing each shortcut, each tab that’s opened. He masks his intentions behind idle curiosity. “Ah, so you can overlay footage on the current feed? That’s cool.”The man smiles at him, a spark of passion gleaming in his eyes. “Isn’t it? Look, if I wanted to, I could play anything I want over each monitor,” He taps twice on the keyboard, and Jongwoo makes a mental note. The monitor for Unit C flickers and changes to footage from the outside rec centre.Jongwoo’s eyebrows raise and he remembers to look appropriately impressed when the man turns back to him. “Wow, can I try?”The man wheels back, arms folded. “Go ahead, it’s simple, really.”Jongwoo replays what he observed back in his head, and hovers the mouse over Unit A’s monitor. He inputs the shortcuts, finds a random feed, and applies it.It works. It f@ck@ng  works. Jongwoo lets out a short, excited breath of air. He realises that he’s shaking.“See? It’s easy.”Jongwoo stands, bowing hastily. “Thank you for showing me, sir. I better get back to my shift.”“Ah, it’s no trouble, son. Stop by anytime,” The man pauses, seeming to remember something. “And try not to get too close to the bars, you hear? You’re always much too close.”Jongwoo wheezes out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as it begins to grow hot. “Yeah, sorry. It’s easy to forget.”“But say, didn’t you want to watch the footage from when Seo Moonjo attacked-”“Oh, honestly, I think that was a silly idea,” Jongwoo interrupts quickly. “I thought it would help me, but it would probably just scare me.”The man nods in understanding. “It’s for the best, I think. Don’t let him intimidate you, alright?”Jongwoo bows again and smiles sheepishly. He exits the security office with a hand in his jacket pocket, clutching around the tennis ball inside. When Jongwoo returns to Unit A, Moonjo is still standing by the door, as though he never moved an inch. He watches Jongwoo approach. He looks restless. Ready to pry the bars open with his bare hands.Jongwoo takes the tennis ball out of his pocket and holds it up for Moonjo to see. “I found this.”Moonjo’s mouth almost curves into a smile, but not quite. His eyes shine, always so expressive, even when he doesn’t mean to be. “You’re quite the rule-breaker, aren’t you, darling?”Jongwoo ducks his head, concealing a smirk. His face heats, and he throws the ball to the floor, catching it in his hand again. Once he regains his sanity, his composure, he jerks his head up. “Do you want it back, or not?”Moonjo’s face has hardened. Jongwoo falters, his nose scrunching in confusion. He waves the tennis ball at him. “Have you lost interest in it now?”“The watch doesn’t suit you.”Jongwoo lowers his hand slowly and it hangs, limp by his side. His nails cut into coarse, fuzzy rubber. His voice is far away, vacant. “That’s a little rude.”“Is that the best she could do? A watch?” Moonjo tuts.“You think you could do better?” Jongwoo asks, goading. This is exactly the kind of thing that he wants to  avoid.  Moonjo seems to drift for a moment, eyes becoming unfocused. They land on Jongwoo’s wrist. “Out of all my creations, I’ve never tried a bracelet before.”Flames lick up his spine, scald his skin. Jongwoo closes his eyes, tries to calm himself. But the damage has already been done. The image floats in his mind, clinking together, chiming. “That’s messed up,” He says.Moonjo hums lowly. “Maybe it is. But you like it.”Jongwoo doubles down on his decision then. What he’s been setting out to do, his  plan.  He runs his gaze over Moonjo hungrily, taking him in. He presses his lips together, exhaling through his nose. He nods to himself, backs away, and walks to the other end of the corridor.This is a test of his patience. The time is ticking down, Saturday evening is so near yet so far. The final release. He’ll cast this sickness out.
   Get him out of your system. 
But before that, he’ll stay away. He won’t interact. He’ll ignore the desperation that claws at his insides. And he’ll ignore Seo Moonjo.It’s easier said than done. Moonjo does not take the silence well. He paces, he knocks on the cell door, on the bars. He calls out to him. Jongwoo stares resolutely at the wall in front of him. And then, Moonjo begins to sulk. His feet shuffle, scuffing on the tiles. He collapses onto his bed, purposefully loud. He heaves a sigh. Jongwoo doesn’t give in. The rest of the day passes like this. Moonjo grows more and more incensed. He becomes  confused.  Jongwoo knows that he doesn’t understand, that he’s frustrated. But what he intends to do, it has to be entirely  secret.  Moonjo can’t find out. Not until it’s happening. When Jongwoo  takes,  and the madness will seep from him forever. He leaves his shift without saying goodbye.He hardly sleeps that night. An unintentional preparation for the shift to come. He spends the day in an odd sort of calm, moving about his apartment like he’s gliding through a dream. The screeching has returned again. It bothers him more today. He hits the side of his face, hoping the shock of it will purge the noise out of his brain. Needless to say, it’s ineffective. Jongwoo begins to feel the first bite of anxiety during his trip to the pharmacy. He loiters in the aisle, a hand rubbing at his mouth. He feels his face flush the longer he stands there. A woman brushes past him, hiding a giggle behind her hand. Jongwoo wants to  die. He grabs the bottle before he can convince himself otherwise. He moves on to the next item on his list. Taking a breath, he picks the right size and resolves not to think about it.The pharmacist doesn’t comment as he rings up the order, but as Jongwoo turns to leave, he says, voice grave, “Be responsible, son.”Jongwoo nearly knocks over a skincare advertisement in his rush to escape.The hours pass and Jongwoo can’t sit still. He tries to watch mindless TV, but he can’t switch his brain off, so it’s useless. He even tries to write a new chapter, but the pianist distorts until all he can see is Moonjo. Jongwoo sits at the kitchen table, leg bouncing and heart pounding. He’s already dressed, ready to leave at any moment. The clock just needs to  hurry up. Before he leaves, Jongwoo hesitates. He looks back at the coffee table, where the watch still sits. His hand tightens around the door knob.His wrist is bare when he arrives at the prison. Jaeho isn’t there to greet him. Nobody is. In fact, it’s even more of a ghost town than usual. Jongwoo huffs shakily. He can’t go straight to Unit A. That’s not technically his only responsibility. The night shift gig comes with fewer people but more ground to cover. And he needs to stall, to take up time long enough for the security guard to fall asleep.  If he falls asleep.
   F@ck, please let him fall asleep. 
Jongwoo strolls down the silent corridors. The inmates are all asleep, privacy curtains drawn over the bars. Jongwoo wets his lips, fingers flexing around his holster. He probably should have gotten some sleep before coming here. But he’s too keyed up. There was no use in trying. The hours move by, slow and sleepy. When Jongwoo’s eyes begin to droop, he knows that his window of opportunity has come. He wipes his clammy hands on his trousers and makes his way to the security office. His lungs squeeze as he tiptoes nearer. The lights above flicker and hum. Jongwoo eases the door open, wincing. He pokes his head inside and almost cries in relief at the sight before him. The security guard’s head is tipped back against the chair, mouth open. He’s snoring.Jongwoo creeps over to the monitor, hardly daring to breathe. As quietly as possible, he types out the commands, praying that he remembers. He extracts footage from the night shift before, enters the shortcut and  hopes.  The feed glitches for a moment. It  changes. The only clue that there’s something off, something different, is the tiny date in the corner. Jongwoo looks at the man asleep on the chair. He sends silent thanks for his lack of work ethic. Unit A is daunting. The lights are set to a warm yellow, probably to help with sleep. Jongwoo hates it. The change in the environment reminds him of what he’s about to do. He doesn’t hover, he doesn’t linger. He stalks up to the cell door, punches in the code, fingers trembling, and he slips inside. It’s dark in the cell. Not pitch black, but dark enough that Jongwoo’s eyes have to adjust. Moonjo is already awake. Jongwoo is certain that he never went to sleep. He’s sitting on his bed, blanket twisted around his legs, frozen in place. He’s not wearing his jumpsuit, only a white cotton shirt and the prison-issued sweatpants. He’s staring at Jongwoo in absolute shock. It emboldens Jongwoo. A surge of power rises through him. He takes a step forward, reaches into his trouser pocket. His fingers close around the bottle. He chucks it to Moonjo.Moonjo catches it. He looks down at the bottle in his hands, then back up at Jongwoo. He swallows.Jongwoo nods to the bottle, moving so that his shoulder is leaning against the wall. So he can  watch.  Moonjo springs into action, tearing the blanket away from his body. His chest heaves around shallow breaths and he tugs his sweatpants and underwear down together, arching his hips off the bed to get them below his knees. He kicks them off, careless. He’s so eager.  Jongwoo drinks it all in. The long, toned legs, the strong thighs. The c@ck that is already hardening, curving upwards. Jongwoo’s mouth waters, his hands curl into fists. But he continues to only watch. Moonjo coats his fingers in the lube, eyes dark and intent, glinting in the low light. He reaches down and Jongwoo tilts his head, blood blazing, as Moonjo eases a finger inside himself. Jongwoo can’t look away. Moonjo’s brow creases in concentration as he stretches himself open, his finger disappearing to the knuckle. He adds another, neck tensing. He’s breathing through his nose, sharp and fast. Jongwoo shifts against the wall.Moonjo is trying to find something, he’s plunging his fingers in, searching. Jongwoo doesn’t want him to find it. That’s something that he wants to draw out of him. But Moonjo is so close to it, he’s pushing down onto his fingers, hips moving in tight, little circles. Sweat builds at his throat, at his temples. “That’s enough,” Jongwoo says, voice hoarse. His hands go to his belt, unbuckling it with short, jerky movements. “Turn over.”Moonjo doesn’t stop. He’s so desperate to find that spot inside of him. He makes a tiny, needy sound. Jongwoo’s jaw clenches and he places one knee on the side of the bed. He grabs hold of Moonjo’s wrist.“I  said,” Jongwoo pushes Moonjo’s fingers in deeper, watching his face change, watching his mouth fall open on a breathless moan. “Turn over.”He yanks Moonjo’s fingers out and places a hand on his hip, urging him, leading him. Moonjo goes, turning over onto his hands and knees. Jongwoo fumbles for the condom in his pocket. It crinkles in his hand, and Moonjo looks back at him, eyeing it with disdain. Before Jongwoo can react, Moonjo snatches the condom from his grasp, brings it to his mouth and rips it open with his teeth. It’s rendered useless in one feral bite. “I want to feel  you,” Moonjo says, feverish. Jongwoo’s c@ck  throbs. He’s clumsy and much too fast as he draws himself out, squirting lube onto his hand haphazardly. He slicks up his c@ck, unable to tear his eyes away from the man in front of him.“You’re finally taking what you want, darling,” Moonjo breathes excitedly. Jongwoo grits his teeth, but Moonjo continues, undeterred. “Isn’t it so much-”Jongwoo yanks Moonjo back, lines himself up and f@cks into him. Moonjo chokes, hitching on a breath that dissolves into a punched-out groan. He shudders around Jongwoo’s c@ck, head hanging between his shoulders.“You’re not wearing the watch, darling.”“Shut up,” Jongwoo hisses, shoving Moonjo’s head down until his face hits the mattress.Jongwoo can’t contain it, he can’t  stop.  He’s so greedy about it, f@ck@ng hard and rough, relishing in the way Moonjo jerks against him, hands scrabbling to cling to the sheets. Jongwoo is panting, his repressed l@st leaking out of him. A particularly brutal thrust has Moonjo gasping, twitching. Jongwoo presses in closer, drapes himself along Moonjo’s back. His c@ck sinks in, deep and hot, and Moonjo collapses, a rough sound leaving his throat.“How does it feel?” Moonjo asks between laboured breaths, f@ck@ng himself back onto Jongwoo’s c@ck. He tries to turn his head, but Jongwoo fists a hand into his hair and  pulls.  Moonjo laughs, strained and reedy. “Is it good?”Jongwoo doesn’t answer. But then Moonjo clenches around him, and it’s so right, so  perfect.  “Do I feel good?” Moonjo pants, pleading.Jongwoo presses himself even closer, wanting to mould into Moonjo. Wanting to become one. His pace slows, his thrusts becoming shallow. He pushes his face into Moonjo’s hair, breathes him in, shivering.“F@ck,” Jongwoo gasps. “You’re perfect.”Moonjo’s back bows and he  moans. One side of his face is pressed against the bed, like he doesn’t have the energy to get up, or even move. His mouth is slack, brows drawn as he makes tiny little noises on each roll of Jongwoo’s hips.Jongwoo brushes that spot inside of him, watching as Moonjo’s mouth opens on a silent scream. He’s completely blissed out, f@ck@d stupid on Jongwoo’s cock. Jongwoo angles down, hitting that spot again and again, feels Moonjo convulse and shiver under him. He can’t even moan, he can only pant wetly and thrust his hips down, desperate for friction.Jongwoo holds Moonjo still, forcing him to take what he’s giving him.“If you can’t get off on just this, tough f@ck@ng luck,” Jongwoo says meanly.Moonjo sobs out a breath, dragging his forehead across the mattress. Jongwoo lowers his mouth down to his ear, cooing. “Look at you. Nothing smart to say now, huh?”Moonjo opens his mouth to say something, anything, but it’s f@ck@d out of him in one slow, grinding thrust. Jongwoo threads his hand through Moonjo’s hair. “Come on, baby, I know you can do it.”Moonjo lets out a low, breathy whine that nearly undoes Jongwoo then and there. He’s f@ck@ng him hard and fast again, a frenzy overtaking him.He never wants this to end. This was supposed to get him out of his system. But this is-“God,” Jongwoo moans against the back of Moonjo’s neck. “Moonjo.”Moonjo makes a feral, animalistic sound that seems to tear through his throat. And then he’s coming, arching his back, body shaking. Jongwoo f@cks him through it, drunk on the breathless gasps, the unrestrained  pleasure.  But then he keeps thrusting, chasing his own release. Moonjo just lies there and  lets him.  The over-stimulation makes him wince, but he’s still pushing back into him, like he can’t get enough.Jongwoo is so close to the edge. Moonjo is letting out small, muffled moans, and his face turns to the side again. His expression is contorted in half-pain, half-esctacy and the next hurried roll of Jongwoo’s hips has him groaning, a quiet, breathy thing, “Ah.”Jongwoo’s @rg@sm hits him like a tidal wave. He tucks his face into the side of Moonjo’s neck, and  groans. His come is pulsing inside of Moonjo. The realisation has his hips jerking hopelessly, and all he can do is hold tight and ride it out. They’re both panting still, once it’s over. Jongwoo hasn’t made a move to pull out, and Moonjo hasn’t asked him to. Trapped in the syrupy trance of his afterglow, Jongwoo nuzzles into Moonjo’s hair, sighing softly. Moonjo tilts his head to the side, pushing into Jongwoo. It carves at Jongwoo’s heart. And he pulls out.He’s tucking himself back in, and he’s  trembling.  He can’t stop, his eyes fill with tears. He sees Moonjo sit up. A hand moves into his line of sight, hovers over where his neck meets his collarbone. It pushes down. The bite is a faded memory now, but when Jongwoo meets Moonjo’s eyes, he knows what this means. His throat bobs. He puts a hand over Moonjo’s, and nods.The screeching is silent.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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