Vendue
Title: Vendue
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: G
Summary: He's cold, he's dying and he's nameless. Jongin will bring him home.
A/N: loosely inspired by shatter me and okane ga nai. this is holy shit word vomit and uhm an extreme failure for attempting to try to copy Tahereh Mafi's holy writing style but i suck and i kind of mixed my own style in this fic which made this even more uglier god forgive me
"Help me..." Kyungsoo mutters, his breathe uneven, vision unstable.
His hands are bounded by what seems to be a metal chain. He's inside a glass case. A case. He's trapped and bounded and deprived of freedom. He's freezing and it's cold, it's cold cold cold and he's naked. He's dying. Of embarrassment. Of self pity.
Before him are outlines of a great amount of silhouettes. They are blurry. He can't see them. They are fading and they are dying in his eyes. They are dying and Kyungsoo likes it because he's dying with them and he's not alone. But he's suffering by himself in this dungeon.
"Someone" he breathes out. No one wants to can hear him. "Somebody. Take me away from this place. Help me."
"Silence." A loud voice reverberates in the room.
Kyungsoo drops to his knees. He hits the glass tiles. It hurts it fucking hurts his knees hurts his head hurts everything hurts. He closes his eyes and spectrum of lights hit him. It even hurts to rest.
"Our last merch is a pretty, doe-eyed, VIRGIN eighteen year old boy."
He's pretty.
Pretty weak.
"I will commence the auction at one thousand dollars." the host says, livening up the entire room.
One man raises his wine in the air. His hand and wine buoy but Kyungsoo's heart sinks. It sank so deep and he can't dig deep enough to bring it back to his chest.
"Two thousand dollars!" the man with the wine says and licks his lips.
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand knifes are currently piercing through his chest. He cannot be just worth twice a thousand dollars.
I'm going to die here.
"Ten thousand dollars!"
I'm going to die here.
"Twenty thousand bucks"
I'm going to die here.
"Thirty thousand bucks"
I'm going to die here.
"Fifty thousand"
I'm going to die here.
"Seventy five thousand dollars!"
I'm going to die here.
"Five hundred thousand dollars."
I'm going to-
A man with a plastered smirk on his face and a black suitcase walks toward him the glass case. He opens the black bag and it ruptured of pelf. There's too much money and he's dying he's dying he's dying and he's drowning.
"I'm sorry sir, but non-members cannot bid-" the host says but gets cut off when the man raises his hands aloft. Pretty fingers. Kyungsoo stares. Long and thin and perfectly sculpted those fingers are beautiful and for a moment Kyungsoo has been drawn and it hurts to stare and look at his fingers.
Pretty fingers.
Kyungsoo looks at his own and turns his head away. They are ugly. They are thin and short and the nails are ugly ugly ugly-they are dirty and long and ugly and filthy.
And for the first time in weeks Kyungsoo craved for water.
He wants to escape from this prison. It's suffocating and there's a limited amount of air. He's a sweating mess, naked and glazed in perspiration.
"I would like to make an exception to that rule. I badly need this man." the guy with the pretty fingers says, pointing his hand at him the glass case.
"Everyone is in need for that guy. You're no different to us." the man with the wine says, his glass now empty.
"Seven hundred thousand dollars." The guy is persistent. He won't give up on Kyungsoo easily. He won't stop until his money vanish. Until he gets what he wants. He zips off the suitcase and a lot more money comes erupting off the bag. "In cash."
He's going to get me. I'm going to die here.
"O-Okay." Agrees the host. "But you're going to have to register in this organization before taking this lad home. You need to be a member. It's a rule, sir..."
"Kim. Kim Jongin."
That's a pretty name.
No one dares to bid higher than him.
The bid has come to an end. Kim Jongin is his buyer. Two guards pushes his glass before the door with a sign saying "employees only". He's not an employee. But he's a product of them. It gave him chills up his spine. His naked spine.
He feels intoxicated again and once he's inside the room he feels dizzy, everything is blurry and everything is fading around him. Everything is dying. He is dying.
He kneels in the glass case that is smooth against his hands. His ugly hands with his thin and short fingers. It's filthy and he wants to get rid of it and he's craving for water. He needs to clean himself. He needs to be clean. He needs to be clean for his buyer.
For Kim Jongin.
For the guy with pretty hands.
For the guy who bid seven hundred thousand dollars for the life of him.
For him.
For a worthless bastard like him. He doesn't even know how he ended up here. He doesn't know why he's here. But there is probably one reason why he found himself inside a glass case. He cannot feed himself anymore and is much better sold away.
A few minutes later, his buyer and the host have come to an agreement. He's sold to Kim Jongin. He's now merely a property of the boy. A toy. Something he possesses starting from now.
Kim Jongin comes toward him but Kyungsoo doesn't move. He did not dare look at him. He just stills himself. He's kneeling and he's staring at the ground. He's staring at his buyer's shoes. They are black and they are pretty and new and they look expensive and Kyungsoo is jealous because he's barefooted and it's cold. The glass tile against his feet is cold and he's freezing and it's killing him.
I'm going to die here.
But he has died everyday. Waiting for someone to save him. To get him off this place. And now the guy has come. The time has come.
He will get the hell out of this fucking dungeon. Someone bought him.
Cold air embraces his skin once Kim Jongin opens the door of the glass case. It envelops his naked body and he's freezing freezing freezing he's shaking and he can't stop himself as his bottom and lower teeth clash against each other to retain the warmth that escaped the case and his body.
"What's your name?" says Kim Jongin. His voice is a lot clearer now and it's so deep that Kyungsoo finds himself falling for it and he can't reach the bottom because it's just too deep. Too deep. Way too deep that Kyungsoo cannot reach the end and he just keeps on falling. Falling down and he wishes to crash down and shatter into pieces. He wants to be destroyed.
"He doesn't talk a lot." the hosts approaches Kim Jongin. Looking down at Kyungsoo who's kneeling before them.
I do not talk because I'm dying here I have nothing to say.
"I can see that." Kyungsoo can feel them examining him. He can feel them staring right into his soul that he feels like he's melting. He's melting and he's dying as well this couldn't be so great.
"Well, I hope you enjoy your purchase. Good day, Mr. Kim Jongin."
Silence.
It's the nicest thing Kyungsoo has had this day. The nicest thing that enveloped his freezing body. He's naked and chained and freezing and dying and he feels so weak he feels intoxicated he feels like falling.
Kim Jongin kneels before him. He touches his hand.
His hands. His pretty hands are on mine. Kim Jongin unlocks the metal around his hands and he feels less suffocated, to say the least. "You still aren't going to tell me your name?"
His name.
It's an unpleasant thing and he'd rather not let Jongin know.
He looks up and catches his eyes. They are little and different in comparison to his big ones. They look pretty and bored and lifeless and Kyungsoo can see himself in his dead orbs. Kyungsoo can see his soul right into Jongin's eyes.
He shakes his head. And everything is becoming blurry. Jongin is fading away. His weight suddenly feels so heavy. He feels dead.
"Help me..." is the last thing he can remember saying before drifting away from his consciousness. And he's frozen.
He cannot see anything but darkness. But he feels a cloth draping around him. And the freezing feeling in him fades away.
He feels his body being carried aloft the ground. And he can feel Jongin's pretty hands on his side and around his legs. His pretty fingers are around him. They are thin and long and Kyungsoo likes it. They are beautiful and the fingers are unlike his. Ugly, short, thin and filthy.
He feels his head resting at the man's clothed chest and he thaws he thaws he thaws. Because it feels so warm. So warm that he's melting and he's dying and he's feeling alive at the same time.
"Don't worry, nameless. We'll be home soon."
At least that's what Kyungsoo hears before sleep embraces him.
He will get the hell out of this fucking dungeon. He'll be home soon.
I don't know uhm unbetaed and idk i just got my new glasses so im happy but idk why i wrote this
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: G
Summary: He's cold, he's dying and he's nameless. Jongin will bring him home.
A/N: loosely inspired by shatter me and okane ga nai. this is holy shit word vomit and uhm an extreme failure for attempting to try to copy Tahereh Mafi's holy writing style but i suck and i kind of mixed my own style in this fic which made this even more uglier god forgive me
"Help me..." Kyungsoo mutters, his breathe uneven, vision unstable.
His hands are bounded by what seems to be a metal chain. He's inside a glass case. A case. He's trapped and bounded and deprived of freedom. He's freezing and it's cold, it's cold cold cold and he's naked. He's dying. Of embarrassment. Of self pity.
Before him are outlines of a great amount of silhouettes. They are blurry. He can't see them. They are fading and they are dying in his eyes. They are dying and Kyungsoo likes it because he's dying with them and he's not alone. But he's suffering by himself in this dungeon.
"Someone" he breathes out. No one wants to can hear him. "Somebody. Take me away from this place. Help me."
"Silence." A loud voice reverberates in the room.
Kyungsoo drops to his knees. He hits the glass tiles. It hurts it fucking hurts his knees hurts his head hurts everything hurts. He closes his eyes and spectrum of lights hit him. It even hurts to rest.
"Our last merch is a pretty, doe-eyed, VIRGIN eighteen year old boy."
He's pretty.
Pretty weak.
"I will commence the auction at one thousand dollars." the host says, livening up the entire room.
One man raises his wine in the air. His hand and wine buoy but Kyungsoo's heart sinks. It sank so deep and he can't dig deep enough to bring it back to his chest.
"Two thousand dollars!" the man with the wine says and licks his lips.
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand knifes are currently piercing through his chest. He cannot be just worth twice a thousand dollars.
I'm going to die here.
"Ten thousand dollars!"
I'm going to die here.
"Twenty thousand bucks"
I'm going to die here.
"Thirty thousand bucks"
I'm going to die here.
"Fifty thousand"
I'm going to die here.
"Seventy five thousand dollars!"
I'm going to die here.
"Five hundred thousand dollars."
I'm going to-
A man with a plastered smirk on his face and a black suitcase walks toward him the glass case. He opens the black bag and it ruptured of pelf. There's too much money and he's dying he's dying he's dying and he's drowning.
"I'm sorry sir, but non-members cannot bid-" the host says but gets cut off when the man raises his hands aloft. Pretty fingers. Kyungsoo stares. Long and thin and perfectly sculpted those fingers are beautiful and for a moment Kyungsoo has been drawn and it hurts to stare and look at his fingers.
Pretty fingers.
Kyungsoo looks at his own and turns his head away. They are ugly. They are thin and short and the nails are ugly ugly ugly-they are dirty and long and ugly and filthy.
And for the first time in weeks Kyungsoo craved for water.
He wants to escape from this prison. It's suffocating and there's a limited amount of air. He's a sweating mess, naked and glazed in perspiration.
"I would like to make an exception to that rule. I badly need this man." the guy with the pretty fingers says, pointing his hand at him the glass case.
"Everyone is in need for that guy. You're no different to us." the man with the wine says, his glass now empty.
"Seven hundred thousand dollars." The guy is persistent. He won't give up on Kyungsoo easily. He won't stop until his money vanish. Until he gets what he wants. He zips off the suitcase and a lot more money comes erupting off the bag. "In cash."
He's going to get me. I'm going to die here.
"O-Okay." Agrees the host. "But you're going to have to register in this organization before taking this lad home. You need to be a member. It's a rule, sir..."
"Kim. Kim Jongin."
That's a pretty name.
No one dares to bid higher than him.
The bid has come to an end. Kim Jongin is his buyer. Two guards pushes his glass before the door with a sign saying "employees only". He's not an employee. But he's a product of them. It gave him chills up his spine. His naked spine.
He feels intoxicated again and once he's inside the room he feels dizzy, everything is blurry and everything is fading around him. Everything is dying. He is dying.
He kneels in the glass case that is smooth against his hands. His ugly hands with his thin and short fingers. It's filthy and he wants to get rid of it and he's craving for water. He needs to clean himself. He needs to be clean. He needs to be clean for his buyer.
For Kim Jongin.
For the guy with pretty hands.
For the guy who bid seven hundred thousand dollars for the life of him.
For him.
For a worthless bastard like him. He doesn't even know how he ended up here. He doesn't know why he's here. But there is probably one reason why he found himself inside a glass case. He cannot feed himself anymore and is much better sold away.
A few minutes later, his buyer and the host have come to an agreement. He's sold to Kim Jongin. He's now merely a property of the boy. A toy. Something he possesses starting from now.
Kim Jongin comes toward him but Kyungsoo doesn't move. He did not dare look at him. He just stills himself. He's kneeling and he's staring at the ground. He's staring at his buyer's shoes. They are black and they are pretty and new and they look expensive and Kyungsoo is jealous because he's barefooted and it's cold. The glass tile against his feet is cold and he's freezing and it's killing him.
I'm going to die here.
But he has died everyday. Waiting for someone to save him. To get him off this place. And now the guy has come. The time has come.
He will get the hell out of this fucking dungeon. Someone bought him.
Cold air embraces his skin once Kim Jongin opens the door of the glass case. It envelops his naked body and he's freezing freezing freezing he's shaking and he can't stop himself as his bottom and lower teeth clash against each other to retain the warmth that escaped the case and his body.
"What's your name?" says Kim Jongin. His voice is a lot clearer now and it's so deep that Kyungsoo finds himself falling for it and he can't reach the bottom because it's just too deep. Too deep. Way too deep that Kyungsoo cannot reach the end and he just keeps on falling. Falling down and he wishes to crash down and shatter into pieces. He wants to be destroyed.
"He doesn't talk a lot." the hosts approaches Kim Jongin. Looking down at Kyungsoo who's kneeling before them.
I do not talk because I'm dying here I have nothing to say.
"I can see that." Kyungsoo can feel them examining him. He can feel them staring right into his soul that he feels like he's melting. He's melting and he's dying as well this couldn't be so great.
"Well, I hope you enjoy your purchase. Good day, Mr. Kim Jongin."
Silence.
It's the nicest thing Kyungsoo has had this day. The nicest thing that enveloped his freezing body. He's naked and chained and freezing and dying and he feels so weak he feels intoxicated he feels like falling.
Kim Jongin kneels before him. He touches his hand.
His hands. His pretty hands are on mine. Kim Jongin unlocks the metal around his hands and he feels less suffocated, to say the least. "You still aren't going to tell me your name?"
His name.
It's an unpleasant thing and he'd rather not let Jongin know.
He looks up and catches his eyes. They are little and different in comparison to his big ones. They look pretty and bored and lifeless and Kyungsoo can see himself in his dead orbs. Kyungsoo can see his soul right into Jongin's eyes.
He shakes his head. And everything is becoming blurry. Jongin is fading away. His weight suddenly feels so heavy. He feels dead.
"Help me..." is the last thing he can remember saying before drifting away from his consciousness. And he's frozen.
He cannot see anything but darkness. But he feels a cloth draping around him. And the freezing feeling in him fades away.
He feels his body being carried aloft the ground. And he can feel Jongin's pretty hands on his side and around his legs. His pretty fingers are around him. They are thin and long and Kyungsoo likes it. They are beautiful and the fingers are unlike his. Ugly, short, thin and filthy.
He feels his head resting at the man's clothed chest and he thaws he thaws he thaws. Because it feels so warm. So warm that he's melting and he's dying and he's feeling alive at the same time.
"Don't worry, nameless. We'll be home soon."
At least that's what Kyungsoo hears before sleep embraces him.
He will get the hell out of this fucking dungeon. He'll be home soon.
I don't know uhm unbetaed and idk i just got my new glasses so im happy but idk why i wrote this