[FIC] Reset
Title: Reset
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): (broken) Kangin/Leeteuk
Length: 1,800
Summary: The spreading of amnesia is like a disease and people are quarantined, contained like cattle. Jungsu only hopes to find a glimmer of his past to regain his lost memories and his full identity.
Warnings: ANGST, character death, some swearing, minor inclusion of graphic imagery of the violent sort.
Notes: Written for kpop_ficmix community, a remix of Aki (ficcy)'s
Remake of a Broken World Author recommends reading this fic first.
Jungsu sits at the bench. His fingers are bloody, fingernails broken from etching in two characters over and over, on the walls, on the ground, anywhere he can find a flat surface. One of his jailors finally noticed and now he’s got a broken piece of lead and some paper. But the urge has passed and the items lay on the table, unused.
強仁.
He doesn’t know why those two characters repeat themselves, like a mantra, but he can’t seem to get them out of his head.
“Chinese?” Another inmate has come close to him and whispers in broken Korean. He points to the last two characters Jungsu has written on the table and repeats himself, pointing at Jungsu this time.
Chinese. Jungsu slowly processes the word and realizes that he’s been writing in Chinese characters when he’s pretty sure he’s Korean. He
shakes his head. “Korean,” he corrects, pointing to himself. “Jungsu. You?”
The man pauses before answering, as if to think. “Hangeng. I Chinese. Not Korean. But shh, secret, okay?” Jungsu nods. He knows the guards immediately segregate out the foreigners, and he’s heard rumors of a much worse camp with minimal food and water. At least here, they have some walking space and doctors and books.
He hasn’t seen anyone familiar, but then again, would he really recognize them? He keeps hoping that someone from his past will jar his senses and jolt his memories back.
But all the faces he gazes at are unfriendly, unwelcoming.
A siren goes off once and the metal grates creak open. There’s a new group entering. Jungsu, along with the rest of the inmates, goes to the chain link wall division to peer at the group. It’s a bunch of younger girls and some of the guys catcall. They look scared, huddling close together for protection. But they’re soon ushered into another building, another facility.
It’s been a year since it started, seeming to only affect those under 30 years old. At first they thought it was just a few cases of amnesiacs, temporary and benign. But the number of cases exponentially grew and fears ran rampant that it was linked to some viral or biological contagion. Quarantines were issued. Anyone with memory loss was immediately apprehended and shipped to makeshift facilities.
Summer was hitting and there were multiple cases of dehydration and heat stroke. But Jungsu couldn’t stand the dank basements, even if outside was hotter. He needed air. Something letting him know that all hope wasn’t lost.
A sudden brush at his hands made him jump and he almost skittered away. Hangeng looked up at him, apologetic and concerned. “What… happen?” he asked, hesitating.
Jungsu shook his head. He couldn’t have explained even if he wanted to. “Writing. Too much,” he simply replied. He exhaled, a soft sound escaping from his lips that sounded suspiciously like Kangin.
Hangeng gave him a sad smile.
~*~*~*~*~
He’s gotten close to Hangeng, especially after an incident with a rather overzealous man who decides Jungsu is his next target. He’s just stepped out of the shower when he’s slammed into a wall, the breath knocked out of him. The towel falls and Jungsu wonders if he’s about to enter hell. A sickening crack and Jungsu stares at Hangeng, who has his leg raised, deadly and waiting. He glares around at the crowd that’s gathered and the other inmates look away.
“Mine,” he growls and pulls Jungsu close to him. “No touch.”
Jungsu swallows, not quite sure what’s going on. But it seems to work and he feels safe with Hangeng’s arms around his shoulders. He timidly reaches down for his towel and they walk, Hangeng pulling Jungsu’s hand tightly.
“Thank you-“ Jungsu is about to say, but Hangeng interrupts him.
“You very pretty. Danger. You fight? Or make look ugly.”
Jungsu brows furrow. He doesn’t understand the very last sentence until Hangeng picks up some dirt and starts to smear it on his cheeks, over his hair. He protests at first, but realizes what Hangeng is trying to do. Nodding, he smears more, even on his teeth to make it look like he's missing some. His clothes are already tattered and torn.
But it doesn’t matter anyway. Not anymore. He’s been claimed and no one bothers him.
~*~*~*~*~
There are times at night, when he dreams, that he can almost taste his memories come back to him. He hears familiar voices, familiar words, and he hears a husky chuckle, feels the warmth of someone cocooning him. There’s a smell of spice and musk, something so utterly sinful that it makes Jungsu’s body tingle. He looks up in hope for a face, but the image is blurred and vanishes like smoke.
Jungsu always wakes up in a cold sweat after those dreams. Hangeng will tug at him sleepily and he lays back down, knowing that this isn’t, shouldn’t be his life, but he doesn’t know (remember) any better.
Where is truth when memory is but a fickle mistress?
Jungsu just knows that Hangeng is warm and comforting. And in this hellhole, there’s little much else there is.
~*~*~*~*~
They’re stealing a kiss when a stranger comes up to them and yanks them apart. Jungsu jumps when the man slaps Hangeng hard on the cheek.
“Who is this, what are you doing, did you already forget about me, are you fucking KIDDING me you, you, you piece of SHIT, didn’t you say you wouldn’t forget me, would fight this fucking disease, I don’t even know what and here you are, cuddling next to god knows what and,” the other man glares at Hangeng with his arms crossed. “Well??? I know you’re quiet, but do you have anything to say to your husband?”
Jungsu stares with his mouth open. He immediately looks at Hangeng, who looks equally shell-shocked and bewildered.
“Hee…chul?” The words come out of Hangeng’s mouth dry and raspy.
“Finally, he remembers me, Christ. Hangeng, I can’t believe I had to do this to see you. You know?? I’m not even sick and here I am just to find you. Do you know what that is? That’s called love. You know, “ai”? Yeah. Like “wo ai ni.” Something. Shit. You fucking bastard,” and the man dubbed Heechul pulls Hangeng into a tight embrace and they kiss with so much love, so much familiarity and ease that Jungsu knows. Knows that these two are truly married, truly meant for each other.
A piece of his heart breaks.
But not because of his loss of Hangeng.
But because their kiss reminds him of something he once had but now, has lost.
~*~*~*~*~
He doesn’t know why he’s elected. But for some reason, they decide that he’s going to be part of the re-population/rehabilitation plan despite their uncertainties on whether the amnesia can be genetically transferred. Jungsu doesn’t really care; it’s a chance for him to go to a different, better facility with improved medical care.
They clean his body and check for everything, probing and swabbing him down. After a battery of tests, they give him a special drink to be at his top health.
He hasn’t gotten a bad spell like a year ago, when he was using everything and anything to write the two characters. But the urge to write has come back up again and he pulls out a piece of paper to write down the word.
Hangeng had mentioned (when they were together) that it had to do with being strong yet generous. Jungsu doesn’t really care at this point. He just wants to know why and where these two characters come from, why they seem to have such a strong impact on his inind.
They’ve put him in another facility now, where he has his own room. It’s not large but it’s clean and white - something Jungsu likes. He’s just about to lay down when a sudden barrage of images tumble in his mind and his body jerks, trembles. He sees a man, with a wonderful smile, singing to him, an image of a train hurtling towards them, a Chinese restaurant, a diamond ring in a velvet box, and the words Kangin echoing in his mind. But another word arises, Youngwoon. and Jungsu is confused.
The images keep coming and he sees the man (Youngwoon! his mind yells out and Jungsu realizes that must be Youngwoon) being taken away, though not without a fight. He tastes salt on his lips and he wipes away the tears that don’t seem to stop.
Finally, finally it ends and Jungsu huddles in his bed, feeling utterly vulnerable and unprotected.
He has to find Youngwoon.
But who is Kangin?
~*~*~*~*~
He tries to ask anyone, everyone if they know of a tallish man with a broad chest named Youngwoon. The jailors get annoyed at him and threaten him with the punishment of the isolation chamber. Jungsu shuts up then, not liking the small dark room with no windows, nothing at all but one’s self and one’s thoughts.
But he picks up on some whispers and his ears perk up.
“Kim Youngwoon, wasn’t he that young guy so determined to be number one so he could earn the special ticket to leave?” “Yeah, but I heard he went back to the old facility to try and find someone. Such a stubborn bastard. And packed a mean punch too.” “I think he got killed though. My brother’s a guard in that facility. Said there was some sort of fight and his only relative came by to pick up his body.” “Eh, he deserved it, the lunk.”
Jungsu stills. His legs falter and he slides to the floor in a shapeless heap.
He doesn’t want to think it’s true, but the story is all too plausible and he knows how hot-headed Youngwoon can get.
They have to feed him with an IV for the next few days.
~*~*~*~*~
It’s funny, how it all starts to fall apart and slowly crumble. It’s no apocalypse, no doomsday destructive eruption like he had sometimes imagined.
It spreads, as easily as seeds carried by the wind, and Jungsu finds it harder to keep hope, to be positive.
One day, the jailors are gone. Or at least, they aren’t at their usual posts. Freedom? The inmates peek out nervously. The gates are open and there’s a group of people waiting outside.
Jungsu doesn’t understand. There’s nothing out here, no difference to him if he stays here or goes there. It’s gone, whatever past he had that made him feel alive.
He’s gone back to writing the two characters, but now with a stick on the ground.
“Kang…in? Hey, that’s me,” a man exclaims and Jungsu turns to look up.
Youngwoon.
But he laughs sheepishly and scratches the back of his head.
“No. Kangin. But. Twins with Youngwoon.”
Jungsu smiles.
The leaves are turning yellow and he realizes it's Fall.
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): (broken) Kangin/Leeteuk
Length: 1,800
Summary: The spreading of amnesia is like a disease and people are quarantined, contained like cattle. Jungsu only hopes to find a glimmer of his past to regain his lost memories and his full identity.
Warnings: ANGST, character death, some swearing, minor inclusion of graphic imagery of the violent sort.
Notes: Written for kpop_ficmix community, a remix of Aki (ficcy)'s
Remake of a Broken World Author recommends reading this fic first.
Jungsu sits at the bench. His fingers are bloody, fingernails broken from etching in two characters over and over, on the walls, on the ground, anywhere he can find a flat surface. One of his jailors finally noticed and now he’s got a broken piece of lead and some paper. But the urge has passed and the items lay on the table, unused.
強仁.
He doesn’t know why those two characters repeat themselves, like a mantra, but he can’t seem to get them out of his head.
“Chinese?” Another inmate has come close to him and whispers in broken Korean. He points to the last two characters Jungsu has written on the table and repeats himself, pointing at Jungsu this time.
Chinese. Jungsu slowly processes the word and realizes that he’s been writing in Chinese characters when he’s pretty sure he’s Korean. He
shakes his head. “Korean,” he corrects, pointing to himself. “Jungsu. You?”
The man pauses before answering, as if to think. “Hangeng. I Chinese. Not Korean. But shh, secret, okay?” Jungsu nods. He knows the guards immediately segregate out the foreigners, and he’s heard rumors of a much worse camp with minimal food and water. At least here, they have some walking space and doctors and books.
He hasn’t seen anyone familiar, but then again, would he really recognize them? He keeps hoping that someone from his past will jar his senses and jolt his memories back.
But all the faces he gazes at are unfriendly, unwelcoming.
A siren goes off once and the metal grates creak open. There’s a new group entering. Jungsu, along with the rest of the inmates, goes to the chain link wall division to peer at the group. It’s a bunch of younger girls and some of the guys catcall. They look scared, huddling close together for protection. But they’re soon ushered into another building, another facility.
It’s been a year since it started, seeming to only affect those under 30 years old. At first they thought it was just a few cases of amnesiacs, temporary and benign. But the number of cases exponentially grew and fears ran rampant that it was linked to some viral or biological contagion. Quarantines were issued. Anyone with memory loss was immediately apprehended and shipped to makeshift facilities.
Summer was hitting and there were multiple cases of dehydration and heat stroke. But Jungsu couldn’t stand the dank basements, even if outside was hotter. He needed air. Something letting him know that all hope wasn’t lost.
A sudden brush at his hands made him jump and he almost skittered away. Hangeng looked up at him, apologetic and concerned. “What… happen?” he asked, hesitating.
Jungsu shook his head. He couldn’t have explained even if he wanted to. “Writing. Too much,” he simply replied. He exhaled, a soft sound escaping from his lips that sounded suspiciously like Kangin.
Hangeng gave him a sad smile.
~*~*~*~*~
He’s gotten close to Hangeng, especially after an incident with a rather overzealous man who decides Jungsu is his next target. He’s just stepped out of the shower when he’s slammed into a wall, the breath knocked out of him. The towel falls and Jungsu wonders if he’s about to enter hell. A sickening crack and Jungsu stares at Hangeng, who has his leg raised, deadly and waiting. He glares around at the crowd that’s gathered and the other inmates look away.
“Mine,” he growls and pulls Jungsu close to him. “No touch.”
Jungsu swallows, not quite sure what’s going on. But it seems to work and he feels safe with Hangeng’s arms around his shoulders. He timidly reaches down for his towel and they walk, Hangeng pulling Jungsu’s hand tightly.
“Thank you-“ Jungsu is about to say, but Hangeng interrupts him.
“You very pretty. Danger. You fight? Or make look ugly.”
Jungsu brows furrow. He doesn’t understand the very last sentence until Hangeng picks up some dirt and starts to smear it on his cheeks, over his hair. He protests at first, but realizes what Hangeng is trying to do. Nodding, he smears more, even on his teeth to make it look like he's missing some. His clothes are already tattered and torn.
But it doesn’t matter anyway. Not anymore. He’s been claimed and no one bothers him.
~*~*~*~*~
There are times at night, when he dreams, that he can almost taste his memories come back to him. He hears familiar voices, familiar words, and he hears a husky chuckle, feels the warmth of someone cocooning him. There’s a smell of spice and musk, something so utterly sinful that it makes Jungsu’s body tingle. He looks up in hope for a face, but the image is blurred and vanishes like smoke.
Jungsu always wakes up in a cold sweat after those dreams. Hangeng will tug at him sleepily and he lays back down, knowing that this isn’t, shouldn’t be his life, but he doesn’t know (remember) any better.
Where is truth when memory is but a fickle mistress?
Jungsu just knows that Hangeng is warm and comforting. And in this hellhole, there’s little much else there is.
~*~*~*~*~
They’re stealing a kiss when a stranger comes up to them and yanks them apart. Jungsu jumps when the man slaps Hangeng hard on the cheek.
“Who is this, what are you doing, did you already forget about me, are you fucking KIDDING me you, you, you piece of SHIT, didn’t you say you wouldn’t forget me, would fight this fucking disease, I don’t even know what and here you are, cuddling next to god knows what and,” the other man glares at Hangeng with his arms crossed. “Well??? I know you’re quiet, but do you have anything to say to your husband?”
Jungsu stares with his mouth open. He immediately looks at Hangeng, who looks equally shell-shocked and bewildered.
“Hee…chul?” The words come out of Hangeng’s mouth dry and raspy.
“Finally, he remembers me, Christ. Hangeng, I can’t believe I had to do this to see you. You know?? I’m not even sick and here I am just to find you. Do you know what that is? That’s called love. You know, “ai”? Yeah. Like “wo ai ni.” Something. Shit. You fucking bastard,” and the man dubbed Heechul pulls Hangeng into a tight embrace and they kiss with so much love, so much familiarity and ease that Jungsu knows. Knows that these two are truly married, truly meant for each other.
A piece of his heart breaks.
But not because of his loss of Hangeng.
But because their kiss reminds him of something he once had but now, has lost.
~*~*~*~*~
He doesn’t know why he’s elected. But for some reason, they decide that he’s going to be part of the re-population/rehabilitation plan despite their uncertainties on whether the amnesia can be genetically transferred. Jungsu doesn’t really care; it’s a chance for him to go to a different, better facility with improved medical care.
They clean his body and check for everything, probing and swabbing him down. After a battery of tests, they give him a special drink to be at his top health.
He hasn’t gotten a bad spell like a year ago, when he was using everything and anything to write the two characters. But the urge to write has come back up again and he pulls out a piece of paper to write down the word.
Hangeng had mentioned (when they were together) that it had to do with being strong yet generous. Jungsu doesn’t really care at this point. He just wants to know why and where these two characters come from, why they seem to have such a strong impact on his inind.
They’ve put him in another facility now, where he has his own room. It’s not large but it’s clean and white - something Jungsu likes. He’s just about to lay down when a sudden barrage of images tumble in his mind and his body jerks, trembles. He sees a man, with a wonderful smile, singing to him, an image of a train hurtling towards them, a Chinese restaurant, a diamond ring in a velvet box, and the words Kangin echoing in his mind. But another word arises, Youngwoon. and Jungsu is confused.
The images keep coming and he sees the man (Youngwoon! his mind yells out and Jungsu realizes that must be Youngwoon) being taken away, though not without a fight. He tastes salt on his lips and he wipes away the tears that don’t seem to stop.
Finally, finally it ends and Jungsu huddles in his bed, feeling utterly vulnerable and unprotected.
He has to find Youngwoon.
But who is Kangin?
~*~*~*~*~
He tries to ask anyone, everyone if they know of a tallish man with a broad chest named Youngwoon. The jailors get annoyed at him and threaten him with the punishment of the isolation chamber. Jungsu shuts up then, not liking the small dark room with no windows, nothing at all but one’s self and one’s thoughts.
But he picks up on some whispers and his ears perk up.
“Kim Youngwoon, wasn’t he that young guy so determined to be number one so he could earn the special ticket to leave?” “Yeah, but I heard he went back to the old facility to try and find someone. Such a stubborn bastard. And packed a mean punch too.” “I think he got killed though. My brother’s a guard in that facility. Said there was some sort of fight and his only relative came by to pick up his body.” “Eh, he deserved it, the lunk.”
Jungsu stills. His legs falter and he slides to the floor in a shapeless heap.
He doesn’t want to think it’s true, but the story is all too plausible and he knows how hot-headed Youngwoon can get.
They have to feed him with an IV for the next few days.
~*~*~*~*~
It’s funny, how it all starts to fall apart and slowly crumble. It’s no apocalypse, no doomsday destructive eruption like he had sometimes imagined.
It spreads, as easily as seeds carried by the wind, and Jungsu finds it harder to keep hope, to be positive.
One day, the jailors are gone. Or at least, they aren’t at their usual posts. Freedom? The inmates peek out nervously. The gates are open and there’s a group of people waiting outside.
Jungsu doesn’t understand. There’s nothing out here, no difference to him if he stays here or goes there. It’s gone, whatever past he had that made him feel alive.
He’s gone back to writing the two characters, but now with a stick on the ground.
“Kang…in? Hey, that’s me,” a man exclaims and Jungsu turns to look up.
Youngwoon.
But he laughs sheepishly and scratches the back of his head.
“No. Kangin. But. Twins with Youngwoon.”
Jungsu smiles.
The leaves are turning yellow and he realizes it's Fall.