Dangerous Mind 「 prologue 」
Fandom: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance, Drama
Pairings: Jaejoong/Changmin, Yoochun/Jaejoong
Summary: He was created to be a killing machine that served only one man, but he never expected the young man he was ordered to kill would save his wretched soul.
Warnings: Implied kidnapping & child abuse, mature themes/situations, language, violence
Author's Note: This story was inspired by a joke "movie poster" I made last year (you can find the poster here). Hopefully I can actually finish this story. :'D [gets pummeled with rotten tomatoes]
It felt cold. He opened his eyes slowly, rubbing them tiredly. It was cold and dark. He looked around him and suspected he was in someone's living room, but this house was unlike any he had ever seen before. It was too Western, almost like a Gothic house seen in those horror movies he used to watch in secret when he was alone. He pulled his jacket closer to his body, hoping it would at least warm him a little, and he slowly walked up the stairs of the house. As he walked through the detached hallway, he observed the numerous portraits that adorned the walls with fearful fascination.
The portraits seemed ghostly in certain ways, as if the people within each portrait each held a certain story, a certain secret about all they had witnessed in this house, both past and present. He stopped in front of a portrait of a man and woman, and he marveled at the woman's Oriental beauty and the man's Western features. They were a beautiful couple, he thought to himself with childlike wonder.
Suddenly, he became stiff when he heard a piano being played somewhere further down the hall. He was spell bounded by the beautiful, haunting music, finding his legs moving on their own, at first confidently, but then he slowed down, afraid of what he might find in the room with the beautiful music.
There are no ghosts; ghosts are not real, he reasoned to himself, repeating the words silently to himself over and over again. He slowed to a stop in front of a room with the door cracked open slightly. He looked in the room nervously before cautiously walking inside, unaware that the music that had beckoned him here had stopped playing.
It was a dark, rancid room that was perhaps abandoned and forgotten decades ago. Wherever he looked, all he could see were dust-covered furniture and cobwebs strewn about. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see rats scrambling against the wall, passing what he assumed to be a decaying bird tossed carelessly on the ground by something or someone. He was so concentrated on the soft pitter-patters of the rats that he failed to notice another presence in the room.
"I see he has brought another captive here. He's getting cocky," the voice said scornfully.
"Wh-who's there?"
"Relax, I'm not the one you should be worried about," a boy, roughly eleven or twelve years old, stepped out from the shadows, his eyes seemingly filled with a dark knowledge. "What's your name?"
"Jaejoong," the boy said softly. "My name is Kim Jaejoong. I'm twelve years old."
The boy nodded his head casually. "What month is it now?"
Jaejoong looked at the boy peculiarly. "It's April."
"Then I won't be twelve until this June," he smiled, but there was something strange about his smile that made Jaejoong nervous. The boy suddenly became tensed. He grabbed Jaejoong's arm and pulled him back. "Go hide in that closet now. Don't come out until I tell you to."
"B-but why--?"
"Just do it!" The boy pushed Jaejoong away, and all Jaejoong could do was obey the command. He hid in the closet, leaving a small crack open enough for oxygen to come in and for him to watch the other boy.
"Yoochun, where is that new boy?" A gruff, male voice asked. He was a tall and large man with a malicious presence. From the closet, Jaejoong wrinkled his nose, gagging silently when the stench of alcohol found its way into his hiding place. The man reached down and grabbed the front of Yoochun's shirt, yanking him closer to the man. "I asked you a question, boy. Where is the new-"
"I don't know. You usually keep this room locked, so how should I know?" Yoochun sneered at the man, glaring at him intently.
"Don't sass me boy!" He swiftly slapped Yoochun across the face, silencing the boy, but Yoochun's fixed stare never wavered. He dragged Yoochun out of the room, grumbling softly to himself. "You'll have to do tonight."
Yoochun opened the door to his room and walked slowly and shakily into the room. He closed the door, making sure to lock it immediately. He looked up at the barely closed door of the closet. "You can come out now, Jaejoong."
Jaejoong was trembling inside. He had replayed the conversations from earlier over and over again in his head. He whimpered softly, pulling his legs close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He had buried his face inside, trying hard to forget the screaming and yelling he had heard not moments before.
The door opened and he looked up, his face red from crying. Yoochun bent down, brushing Jaejoong's dark locks away from his wet face. He whispered something incoherently that oddly comforted Jaejoong. He pulled the other boy into a comforting embrace, stroking his hair and continued his soft, soothing whispers.
"Wh-what did he-?"
"Don't worry about it. He won't touch you, I'll make sure of it," Yoochun's voice was low and dark. Jaejoong continued trembling, his eyes growing wider when he saw the dark bruises on Yoochun's body. "Listen to my every command, and he won't hurt you."
He pulled Jaejoong out of the closet, leading him to a piano that Jaejoong failed to notice. Jaejoong wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, hiccupping quietly. Yoochun looked at the hiccupping boy and smiled, settling himself in front of the grand instrument.
He banged on the keys roughly, producing off-key notes that sent the rats scuttling away in fear. Yoochun laughed softly, almost as if he enjoyed startling the rats. Calming himself down, Yoochun cracked his knuckles and began to play properly; creating the beautiful music that had drawn Jaejoong to the room.
Jaejoong sat down on the bench next to Yoochun, listening closely to the poignant music this boy could create. Who, he wondered to himself, is this boy? Why was he here? Who is that man?
"Yoochun, who are you exactly?"
Yoochun stopped playing and was quiet for a moment. "That's a story for another day, Jaejoong." He resumed his playing, and Jaejoong resumed to just sitting and listening quietly to the sad melody.
Night after night, for the longest time, it was the same routine. This man, stinking of liquor and god knows what else, would come into the room demanding Yoochun where he had hid the beautiful boy, and Yoochun would continue his charade of ignorance. But Yoochun knew he could not keep up this farce forever, and he knew one of these days the man will tire of him and will undoubtedly kill him if it meant he could get to Jaejoong without any interference.
One night, after returning to his room from his rough ordeal, Yoochun opened the closet where Jaejoong would always remain while Yoochun was gone. Yoochun looked at the impassive boy intently before asking, "In this world, you either must be the prey or the predator. In other words, between being killed and being the killer, Jaejoong, which do you choose?"
Jaejoong looked up; confusion was evident on his face. He shook his head tiredly. "I-I don't understand."
"Just answer the question!"
Jaejoong looked up, surprised at hearing Yoochun yell at him for the first time. "I-I-I don't want to d-die."
Yoochun smirked inwardly. "So you'd be the killer?"
Jaejoong nodded slowly, finding the entire question distasteful and, as far as he knew, random. "What are you doing?" Jaejoong's eyes followed Yoochun's form, watching his friend crawl under the dusty bed as if searching for something. Yoochun pulled out a shoebox from under the bed, brushing away the dust absentmindedly. He opened the box to reveal a gun lying neatly inside. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard the gasp from the older boy.
"I've always wanted to use this. I've always dreamt of the day I could overpower him, make him suffer; learn of the anguish that I had to endure all these years. And yet..." Yoochun trailed off, his eyes seemed to go out of focus, as if he was being taken on a faraway trip that only he would know. "He is my provider. Without him, I have no way to survive on my own."
Jaejoong knew Yoochun had forgotten about him, having become lost in his own conflicted thoughts. Even so, he watched over the other boy, following his every behavior and observing with childlike naiveté at the different emotions flickering in Yoochun's eyes. Jaejoong walked up timidly, afraid he might frighten Yoochun out of his stupor. He touched Yoochun's shoulder gingerly, speaking in calm, comforting manner, "Yoochun, you're not thinking of..."
"I want to," Yoochun interrupted, turning sharply to look at Jaejoong. He brushed aside Jaejoong's hair and looked him in the eyes fixedly, wondering idly if he could see his own determined face reflected back. "I want you to kill him."
Jaejoong backed away suddenly, stumbling over his sudden two left feet. He stuttered, "Wh-what are you saying? Do you even know what you're..." Jaejoong stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on Yoochun's silent form. "You're not kidding...are you? B-but why me?"
"If I could kill him, don't you think I would've done it long ago?" Yoochun said rudely, picking up the gun and stroking it gently.
Jaejoong shook his head furiously. "You're crazy! If you can't do it, what makes you think I can?"
Yoochun smiled mysteriously, speaking softly and lowly, almost hypnotizing. "I know you can."
Jaejoong sat on the bed, listening to the soft voice whispering the murder plan. With every word Yoochun whispered, Jaejoong felt sick to his stomach listening to the mad plan. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to forget everything.
"Do you understand what you must do now?" Yoochun asked, holding the gun in front of Jaejoong.
"Y-yes." He took the gun and looked at it with both hate and fear.
"Look at that body, what do you see?"
Jaejoong looked at the still body lying across from him. What did he see? All he could see was a dead man lying face down soaked in his own puddle of blood. On the back of his head, there was a bullet lodged inside, and blood was trickling down his head slowly.
"I killed him," breathed Jaejoong bewilderedly. He stared at the still, horror-stricken face that was perhaps mirroring his own. "I...really did kill that man."
It was so easy. As the man was occupied with his own business, all he had to do was step up from behind quietly like a slinking cat and then just simply pull the trigger. And just like that, he brought down a man at least three times his size. Just like that, he became a killer.
"He was a bad man, Jaejoong. You did nothing wrong," the other boy wrapped his arms around Jaejoong from behind. He rested his head close to Jaejoong’s and sighed. "You'll always protect me, won't you? You were brought here to serve me, were you not?"
Jaejoong slowly reached up and touched the arms that were around him. His eyes never once left the sight of the dead man. Something felt wrong, Jaejoong knew. His subconscious told him to run, run as far away as his skinny legs would take him. Just run, run away from this nightmarish house. Forget, forget everything that had happened here.
"I love you, Jaejoong, you know that right?" Yoochun kissed Jaejoong's cheek. "I'm all you have left. I'm the only one that can love you in spite of your sin. You'll love me in spite of my tainted body and soul, right Jaejoong?"
"Yes," Jaejoong murmured, suddenly entranced by what the other boy said. He turned around and looked at the sinister grin the other boy gave him. Peculiarly, he was not frightened by it. He leaned up and kissed the boy, almost as if the other boy willed this to happen. "I live to serve you, Yoochun."
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Rating: NC-17
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance, Drama
Pairings: Jaejoong/Changmin, Yoochun/Jaejoong
Summary: He was created to be a killing machine that served only one man, but he never expected the young man he was ordered to kill would save his wretched soul.
Warnings: Implied kidnapping & child abuse, mature themes/situations, language, violence
Author's Note: This story was inspired by a joke "movie poster" I made last year (you can find the poster here). Hopefully I can actually finish this story. :'D [gets pummeled with rotten tomatoes]
It felt cold. He opened his eyes slowly, rubbing them tiredly. It was cold and dark. He looked around him and suspected he was in someone's living room, but this house was unlike any he had ever seen before. It was too Western, almost like a Gothic house seen in those horror movies he used to watch in secret when he was alone. He pulled his jacket closer to his body, hoping it would at least warm him a little, and he slowly walked up the stairs of the house. As he walked through the detached hallway, he observed the numerous portraits that adorned the walls with fearful fascination.
The portraits seemed ghostly in certain ways, as if the people within each portrait each held a certain story, a certain secret about all they had witnessed in this house, both past and present. He stopped in front of a portrait of a man and woman, and he marveled at the woman's Oriental beauty and the man's Western features. They were a beautiful couple, he thought to himself with childlike wonder.
Suddenly, he became stiff when he heard a piano being played somewhere further down the hall. He was spell bounded by the beautiful, haunting music, finding his legs moving on their own, at first confidently, but then he slowed down, afraid of what he might find in the room with the beautiful music.
There are no ghosts; ghosts are not real, he reasoned to himself, repeating the words silently to himself over and over again. He slowed to a stop in front of a room with the door cracked open slightly. He looked in the room nervously before cautiously walking inside, unaware that the music that had beckoned him here had stopped playing.
It was a dark, rancid room that was perhaps abandoned and forgotten decades ago. Wherever he looked, all he could see were dust-covered furniture and cobwebs strewn about. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see rats scrambling against the wall, passing what he assumed to be a decaying bird tossed carelessly on the ground by something or someone. He was so concentrated on the soft pitter-patters of the rats that he failed to notice another presence in the room.
"I see he has brought another captive here. He's getting cocky," the voice said scornfully.
"Wh-who's there?"
"Relax, I'm not the one you should be worried about," a boy, roughly eleven or twelve years old, stepped out from the shadows, his eyes seemingly filled with a dark knowledge. "What's your name?"
"Jaejoong," the boy said softly. "My name is Kim Jaejoong. I'm twelve years old."
The boy nodded his head casually. "What month is it now?"
Jaejoong looked at the boy peculiarly. "It's April."
"Then I won't be twelve until this June," he smiled, but there was something strange about his smile that made Jaejoong nervous. The boy suddenly became tensed. He grabbed Jaejoong's arm and pulled him back. "Go hide in that closet now. Don't come out until I tell you to."
"B-but why--?"
"Just do it!" The boy pushed Jaejoong away, and all Jaejoong could do was obey the command. He hid in the closet, leaving a small crack open enough for oxygen to come in and for him to watch the other boy.
"Yoochun, where is that new boy?" A gruff, male voice asked. He was a tall and large man with a malicious presence. From the closet, Jaejoong wrinkled his nose, gagging silently when the stench of alcohol found its way into his hiding place. The man reached down and grabbed the front of Yoochun's shirt, yanking him closer to the man. "I asked you a question, boy. Where is the new-"
"I don't know. You usually keep this room locked, so how should I know?" Yoochun sneered at the man, glaring at him intently.
"Don't sass me boy!" He swiftly slapped Yoochun across the face, silencing the boy, but Yoochun's fixed stare never wavered. He dragged Yoochun out of the room, grumbling softly to himself. "You'll have to do tonight."
Yoochun opened the door to his room and walked slowly and shakily into the room. He closed the door, making sure to lock it immediately. He looked up at the barely closed door of the closet. "You can come out now, Jaejoong."
Jaejoong was trembling inside. He had replayed the conversations from earlier over and over again in his head. He whimpered softly, pulling his legs close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He had buried his face inside, trying hard to forget the screaming and yelling he had heard not moments before.
The door opened and he looked up, his face red from crying. Yoochun bent down, brushing Jaejoong's dark locks away from his wet face. He whispered something incoherently that oddly comforted Jaejoong. He pulled the other boy into a comforting embrace, stroking his hair and continued his soft, soothing whispers.
"Wh-what did he-?"
"Don't worry about it. He won't touch you, I'll make sure of it," Yoochun's voice was low and dark. Jaejoong continued trembling, his eyes growing wider when he saw the dark bruises on Yoochun's body. "Listen to my every command, and he won't hurt you."
He pulled Jaejoong out of the closet, leading him to a piano that Jaejoong failed to notice. Jaejoong wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, hiccupping quietly. Yoochun looked at the hiccupping boy and smiled, settling himself in front of the grand instrument.
He banged on the keys roughly, producing off-key notes that sent the rats scuttling away in fear. Yoochun laughed softly, almost as if he enjoyed startling the rats. Calming himself down, Yoochun cracked his knuckles and began to play properly; creating the beautiful music that had drawn Jaejoong to the room.
Jaejoong sat down on the bench next to Yoochun, listening closely to the poignant music this boy could create. Who, he wondered to himself, is this boy? Why was he here? Who is that man?
"Yoochun, who are you exactly?"
Yoochun stopped playing and was quiet for a moment. "That's a story for another day, Jaejoong." He resumed his playing, and Jaejoong resumed to just sitting and listening quietly to the sad melody.
Night after night, for the longest time, it was the same routine. This man, stinking of liquor and god knows what else, would come into the room demanding Yoochun where he had hid the beautiful boy, and Yoochun would continue his charade of ignorance. But Yoochun knew he could not keep up this farce forever, and he knew one of these days the man will tire of him and will undoubtedly kill him if it meant he could get to Jaejoong without any interference.
One night, after returning to his room from his rough ordeal, Yoochun opened the closet where Jaejoong would always remain while Yoochun was gone. Yoochun looked at the impassive boy intently before asking, "In this world, you either must be the prey or the predator. In other words, between being killed and being the killer, Jaejoong, which do you choose?"
Jaejoong looked up; confusion was evident on his face. He shook his head tiredly. "I-I don't understand."
"Just answer the question!"
Jaejoong looked up, surprised at hearing Yoochun yell at him for the first time. "I-I-I don't want to d-die."
Yoochun smirked inwardly. "So you'd be the killer?"
Jaejoong nodded slowly, finding the entire question distasteful and, as far as he knew, random. "What are you doing?" Jaejoong's eyes followed Yoochun's form, watching his friend crawl under the dusty bed as if searching for something. Yoochun pulled out a shoebox from under the bed, brushing away the dust absentmindedly. He opened the box to reveal a gun lying neatly inside. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard the gasp from the older boy.
"I've always wanted to use this. I've always dreamt of the day I could overpower him, make him suffer; learn of the anguish that I had to endure all these years. And yet..." Yoochun trailed off, his eyes seemed to go out of focus, as if he was being taken on a faraway trip that only he would know. "He is my provider. Without him, I have no way to survive on my own."
Jaejoong knew Yoochun had forgotten about him, having become lost in his own conflicted thoughts. Even so, he watched over the other boy, following his every behavior and observing with childlike naiveté at the different emotions flickering in Yoochun's eyes. Jaejoong walked up timidly, afraid he might frighten Yoochun out of his stupor. He touched Yoochun's shoulder gingerly, speaking in calm, comforting manner, "Yoochun, you're not thinking of..."
"I want to," Yoochun interrupted, turning sharply to look at Jaejoong. He brushed aside Jaejoong's hair and looked him in the eyes fixedly, wondering idly if he could see his own determined face reflected back. "I want you to kill him."
Jaejoong backed away suddenly, stumbling over his sudden two left feet. He stuttered, "Wh-what are you saying? Do you even know what you're..." Jaejoong stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on Yoochun's silent form. "You're not kidding...are you? B-but why me?"
"If I could kill him, don't you think I would've done it long ago?" Yoochun said rudely, picking up the gun and stroking it gently.
Jaejoong shook his head furiously. "You're crazy! If you can't do it, what makes you think I can?"
Yoochun smiled mysteriously, speaking softly and lowly, almost hypnotizing. "I know you can."
Jaejoong sat on the bed, listening to the soft voice whispering the murder plan. With every word Yoochun whispered, Jaejoong felt sick to his stomach listening to the mad plan. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to forget everything.
"Do you understand what you must do now?" Yoochun asked, holding the gun in front of Jaejoong.
"Y-yes." He took the gun and looked at it with both hate and fear.
"Look at that body, what do you see?"
Jaejoong looked at the still body lying across from him. What did he see? All he could see was a dead man lying face down soaked in his own puddle of blood. On the back of his head, there was a bullet lodged inside, and blood was trickling down his head slowly.
"I killed him," breathed Jaejoong bewilderedly. He stared at the still, horror-stricken face that was perhaps mirroring his own. "I...really did kill that man."
It was so easy. As the man was occupied with his own business, all he had to do was step up from behind quietly like a slinking cat and then just simply pull the trigger. And just like that, he brought down a man at least three times his size. Just like that, he became a killer.
"He was a bad man, Jaejoong. You did nothing wrong," the other boy wrapped his arms around Jaejoong from behind. He rested his head close to Jaejoong’s and sighed. "You'll always protect me, won't you? You were brought here to serve me, were you not?"
Jaejoong slowly reached up and touched the arms that were around him. His eyes never once left the sight of the dead man. Something felt wrong, Jaejoong knew. His subconscious told him to run, run as far away as his skinny legs would take him. Just run, run away from this nightmarish house. Forget, forget everything that had happened here.
"I love you, Jaejoong, you know that right?" Yoochun kissed Jaejoong's cheek. "I'm all you have left. I'm the only one that can love you in spite of your sin. You'll love me in spite of my tainted body and soul, right Jaejoong?"
"Yes," Jaejoong murmured, suddenly entranced by what the other boy said. He turned around and looked at the sinister grin the other boy gave him. Peculiarly, he was not frightened by it. He leaned up and kissed the boy, almost as if the other boy willed this to happen. "I live to serve you, Yoochun."
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