Liminal Space
Title: Liminal Space
Pairing: Suho/Kai
Rating: NC-17
Genre: angst, sort of supernatural?au
Length: 6,750
Summary: Junmyeon is fifteen years old the first time he wants to kill someone.
Warning: slight graphic imagery, references to homophobia and suicidal thoughts
Junmyeon is fifteen years old the first time he wants to kill someone.
He’s visiting his grandparents on their farm because his parents insist that the city air isn’t good for him, that getting away from the stress of school and his busy schedule for a few days will restore his health and make him stop getting sick all the time. As the train pulls away from the station with a loud hiss of steam Junmyeon thinks that they probably just want a few days where they can avoid each other without having to pretend to be happy whenever he’s around.
He hasn’t been to the farm in a while, not since he was ten, and the place looks different, smaller somehow. His grandparents seem happy to see him, his grandmother standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and exclaiming over how much he’s grown. His grandfather nods appreciatively when Junmyeon admits that he’s stopped taking singing lessons in favor of a programming class.
“Singing is for girls,” his grandfather says gruffly, patting Junmyeon a bit too hard on the back. “Computers and hard work are for men. You made the right choice.”
The words make Junmyeon’s throat close unpleasantly and his mouth goes so dry he can’t do more than nod before retiring to his small room at the back of the house. He throws himself down on the scratchy quilt covering the bed and wishes he could sing with his tears rather than his voice, sparkling drops of water belting out a sappy love song as they melt slowly into the dark fabric beneath his cheek.
The next morning, Junmyeon pads into the kitchen only to have his grandmother grab the pan he’s holding right out of his hands, shooing him towards the table and reminding him that it’s the woman’s job to cook-Junmyeon shouldn’t be worrying about that. When he grows up and gets married he’ll have to make sure to find a nice girl to cook for him. Junmyeon simply nods again, focusing on the slide of his feet against the cool wooden floorboards, and folds himself up on one of the large wooden chairs surrounding the table, wondering why his parents decided he needed the entire week of school break to “restore his health.”
When his grandmother finally puts a plate of eggs in front of him-slightly burnt and flavorless-Junmyeon tries to imagine that they’re the seasoned fried eggs he would have made for himself, but it doesn’t quite work. His grandfather clomps in from outside, shoving off his boots beside the door and slapping his hands together to remove some of the dust that’s settled on them. He sits down heavily at the head of the table, so close Junmyeon can smell the cigarette smoke and frost and hay folded into the creases of his shirt.
“Do you want to go out and shoot with me today?” his grandfather asks, and Junmyeon starts slightly at the words, unaccustomed to hearing his grandfather speak in such long sentences. He doesn’t particularly want to, but he knows he’s supposed to say yes so he nods, earning himself another painful slap on the back.
“Have fun!” his grandmother yells as they step out onto the porch, Junmyeon shivering sharply when the cold air hits his skin.
His grandfather leads him over to the pale red barn, where he’s set up a few bales of hay and stuck a target in the center of them. On a table about a hundred meters away sits a long rifle, of the kind Junmyeon hasn’t seen outside of history textbooks, and a pistol, of the kind Junmyeon sees all the time on TV shows about cops and crime and spies. They both gleam subtly in the pale winter light, and Junmyeon shudders involuntarily.
“Here, let’s try the pistol first,” his grandfather says jovially, picking up the gun and swiftly inserting a cartridge. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s hard to shoot straight because of the recoil, but it’s more fun than the rifle.”
He hands Junmyeon the gun and Junmyeon nearly drops it in surprise, not expecting the weight of it in his hand.
“Careful,” his grandfather growls, grabbing Junmyeon’s thin fingers with his thick, callused ones, curling them tightly around the gun until it’s pointed directly at the target. Or where the target was, because in the process of Junmyeon nearly shooting himself in the foot the piece of cardboard has been blown off by a sudden icy breeze, landing gently on the grass at the base of the bales of hay.
“Let me go fix that,” his grandfather grunts, releasing his hands from Junmyeon’s once it appears Junmyeon’s capable of supporting the gun on his own. And then, as his grandfather walks out in front of him, bending down to pick up the target lying on the ground, Junmyeon feels a strange jolt in his stomach.
He’s not sure why it happens, even afterward he’s never able to explain quite what he felt. All he knows is, he can suddenly hear his heart pumping far too loudly in his ears, and the world seems to dissolve into a blur of pure adrenaline as Junmyeon is overcome by a terrible urge to pull to trigger. His hands are steady, so horribly steady, and as his grandfather fusses with the target, Junmyeon feels his mind go blank, perfectly calm, like a sinking ship floundering into the eye of a hurricane. But then his grandfather is turning, walking back towards Junmyeon, and gesturing for him to try and shoot.
Junmyeon hits the inner ring of the target five times in a row before his grandfather yells for him to stop.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he laughs, and the moment his rough hands settle on Junmyeon’s shoulders the feeling is gone, sucked away so rapidly he feels dizzy and a little sick. His knees buckle and it takes all of his strength not to collapse onto the ground. He can’t keep his arms from bending, throwing the gun down onto the small table by his side, ignoring the confused look his grandfather is giving him.
“I’m not feeling too well,” Junmyeon says shortly, turning and walking back up the gravel path towards the house. His grandfather doesn’t follow him, and for that Junmyeon is grateful. He’s almost at the door when he hears a voice from behind him.
“That was some nice shooting.”
Gasping, Junmyeon turns around, and what he sees is almost as astonishing as hearing a disembodied voice speaking to him in the middle of a nondescript winter’s day out in the middle of nowhere. It’s a boy.
The boy smiles at Junmyeon, as if expecting a thank you for his compliment. His teeth are white and perfectly straight, and his dark hair falls carefully over his dark eyes, colors offset slightly by golden skin that glimmers in the weak, watery sunlight.
“My name is Kim Jongin,” the boy says slowly, smirking at Junmyeon in a way that makes him feel immediately defensive and self-conscious, though he’s not sure why. “But you’re going to call me Kai.”
“And why would I do that?” Junmyeon asks defiantly.
“Because you didn’t kill that man,” Kai says, and Junmyeon drops his gaze to the grass at his feet.
“Kai,” Junmyeon says, and he’s surprised to see the boy shiver at the way his name sounds in Junmyeon’s mouth, the single syllable framed softly by tongue and lips and teeth.
“You’re an interesting boy, Kim Junmyeon,” Kai says thoughtfully, running a hand through his silky hair, leaving it ruffled with short bits sticking up. It looks messy and out of place and Junmyeon just wants to smooth it out until it all lies flat again.
“How do you know my name?” Junmyeon asks sharply, but in return Kai only smiles-a thin, predatory sort of smile that makes Junmyeon feel a rush of adrenaline almost as strange as the one he’s just recovered from.
“I know a lot of things,” Kai mutters, and Junmyeon would lean in to hear better if he wasn’t so afraid of getting any closer to this boy, to Kai. “Would you like to know something else?”
“No,” Junmyeon says childishly, crossing his arms over his chest. Kai gives him a searching glance before frowning and putting up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Your loss,” he says before turning and walking away, towards the woods bordering the property, the line of trees Junmyeon’s never allowed to go near for fear of him being injured by some wild animal or careless hunter. Junmyeon almost calls out, almost yells to him to come back, that he does want to hear what Kai knows after all. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls open the door to the house, pads softly past the living room where his grandmother is sitting with a magazine, and curls up on the bed in his small room, pulling the blinds sharply across the window.
That night Junmyeon dreams of moonlight and dark gravel paths turned black with water or blood and as Junmyeon stumbles through the woods, calling out Kai’s name, he suddenly sees a boy advancing towards him, dark shape melting and blending with the outlines of the trees. But before the shape can get close enough for Junmyeon to see its face he jerks awake, soaked with sweat, heart pounding, blankets twisted around him like a shroud.
“Not exactly the most social person, are you?”
These are the first words Kai says to Junmyeon the second time they meet. Junmyeon is sitting on his bed, trying to finish a book before it’s due back at the library, and looking up to see Kai sitting in his desk chair is so unexpected Junmyeon suddenly finds himself entirely unable to breathe.
“What, surely you haven’t forgotten about me?” Kai asks, lips turned down in a pout. He unwinds himself from his sitting position and saunters over to Junmyeon’s bed, obviously enjoying the way the motion involuntarily draws Junmyeon’s eyes to his hips.
“Why are you here?” Junmyeon asks, as Kai settles himself down on Junmyeon’s bedspread, so close their thighs are touching. Junmyeon can feel the heat of Kai’s leg bleeding through the thin fabric of his pants-the kid is practically a furnace.
“Why do you think?” Kai laughs, and it takes all of Junmyeon’s self-restraint not to punch him square in the stomach. If it were Kyungsoo, or Luhan, or Baekhyun-anyone else, really-he would do it. But for some reason he finds himself unwilling to touch Kai. He doesn’t want to know how solid he feels.
“I have no idea,” Junmyeon says, eyes fixed intently on his hands folded in his lap. “I’d almost forgotten you existed.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Kai says, reaching out a hand and yanking Junmyeon’s chin up so they’re staring into each other’s eyes. Kai’s eyes are so, so dark and so, so deep. “Two years isn’t nearly enough time for you to have even begun to forget me.”
And even though Junmyeon jerks his chin out of Kai’s very solid hand, he knows that Kai is right. Thoughts of Kai have been stored deep in the recesses of Junmyeon’s mind for the past few years, only tentatively brought to the surface when Junmyeon is feeling weak and tired and unwilling to pretend they don’t exist anymore. But that doesn’t mean he understands why Kai has suddenly decided to show up here, in Junmyeon’s room, two years after he walked off into the woods seemingly without any intention of returning.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Junmyeon says, perhaps a bit too bitterly, and he sees Kai smirk darkly.
“But you know why I’m here now,” he says, dragging hot fingers along the curve of Junmyeon’s neck, and all of a sudden Junmyeon does know, he knows exactly why.
“That has nothing to do with you,” Junmyeon hisses, shoving himself backwards, away from Kai and his lithe, warm fingers and his knowing smile.
“I never said it did,” Kai says, turning the hand so recently in contact with Junmyeon’s skin so he can examine the nails thoughtfully, confirming their perfection.
And even though Kai isn’t touching him anymore Junmyeon knows he must be doing something, because the memories rushing to the surface are too bright and too real to be coming from Junmyeon’s own mind. The way Baekhyun’s eager lips had felt slanting against his own, the way Junmyeon’s surprise at being pressed up against the wall of Baekhyun’s room had dulled to an aching pleasure as Baekhyun’s hands had settled on his waist. The way Junmyeon had cupped Baekhyun’s face in his hands and suddenly the edges of his vision had gone white and he could see himself so easily tightening his fingers, wrenching Baekhyun’s delicate spine out of alignment with one rough twist, leaving him cold and broken on the floor.
But then the moment had gone, Baekhyun had drawn back, eyes bright as he scanned Junmyeon’s face for a sign of what had made him suddenly freeze, and Junmyeon had stepped quickly away, grabbing his backpack and sliding out the door before Baekhyun could call out to him, could try to stop him.
“I would never have pegged him for your type,” Kai says conversationally, and Junmyeon shoots him an angry glare.
“And what would you know about my type?” he spits, annoyed at the way Kai seems perpetually amused by him.
“Quite a bit,” Kai says, going back to his intense examination of his fingernails. “Do you finally want to hear what I know?”
“No,” Junmyeon says angrily, and this time he doesn’t care that Kai looks at him with something akin to pity. He just wants Kai to leave, to walk out of his life and never come back.
“Well then,” Kai says, and he stands as if preparing to leave. “I’ll just have to show you something before I go, even though you didn’t ask.”
And then he’s swooping down and slotting their mouths together and this is nothing like kissing Baekhyun. Baekhyun had been soft and eager and wet but Kai is hard, lips pressing roughly against Junmyeon’s, and desperate, as if Kai is afraid that Junmyeon is the one who will disappear without warning. And Junmyeon hates to admit it but the instant Kai’s lips touch his own a fiery jolt shoots through him and this is nothing like kissing Baekhyun because Junmyeon is suddenly all too aware of every single cell in his body pulsing and writhing against Kai’s lips and when Kai finally pulls away, leaving Junmyeon panting and gasping, he’s only just able to hold back a pained whine at the loss.
“I know that you liked that,” Kai laughs, giving Junmyeon another one of those sickening grins that Junmyeon would like so much to wipe off his face. “I’ll be seeing you.”
And then Kai is gone and Junmyeon is left sitting breathlessly on his bed, fingers pressed gently against his lips, mind racing nearly out of control.
He’s not expecting to see Kai again so soon, although at the time he appears Junmyeon’s not really expecting to see anyone, not really expecting to see anything except the inside of his eyelids or the ceiling of Kyungsoo’s room.
“You look awful,” Kai says softly, and Junmyeon jerks upright so rapidly he nearly falls off the small camp bed Kyungsoo’s set up for him.
“Yeah, well, what do you care?” Junmyeon asks, and he knows his voice sounds harsh with tears and anger and fear but he just can’t bring himself to care.
“What, you think I don’t care about you?” Kai asks, rubbing a warm hand soothingly across Junmyeon’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, you know.”
“This is all your fault,” Junmyeon mutters harshly, and he knows it’s not true but at the moment he just wants someone to blame and who better than this strange boy who won’t let Junmyeon call him by his real name and only seems to show up when Junmyeon least wants him around.
“You know that’s not true,” Kai says warmly, and Junmyeon hates the way the words slow the rapid beating of his heart, settling comfortingly in his stomach. He hates it so much.
“I just didn’t. I just thought,” Junmyeon says, and he doesn’t really know what he’s trying to say but it’s all right because Kai seems to understand anyway. He wraps an arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders and pulls him in close, letting Junmyeon bury his head in his chest.
“It’s okay,” Kai murmurs as Junmyeon fists his hands in Kai’s shirt, vindictively glad that he’s staining the fabric with salt, and tries not to think about the way Kai smells of absolutely nothing at all. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Yeah, because it’s totally okay to be called an abomination by the people who are supposed to take care of you, who are supposed to love you,” Junmyeon tries to say, but the words are cut off in a hiccupping sob that he can’t hold back.
And Kai doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to because all Junmyeon can think about is the look in his parents’ eyes when the principle of the school called them into his office, telling them that their son had been caught in sin, performing extremely unnatural acts that threatened the very foundations the school was built upon, namely, kissing-if such a disgusting act can even be called kissing-another boy, yes, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, don’t worry, the other boy’s parents have already been alerted, I hope you find a way to resolve this as a family.
“I just,” Junmyeon hiccups again. “What am I going to do? At least I’ll be going to college in the fall but even with my scholarship what am I going to do about food or clothes or books? I don’t have anything. I didn’t even get to take anything from my room before they…before I…”
“Junmyeon,” Kai says, and when Junmyeon looks up he’s startled to see a dark fire glowing dangerously in Kai’s eyes. “You’re going to get through this. This is not going to break you.”
“How do you-”
“This,” Kai says disgustedly, and when Junmyeon looks up he sees him holding the small bottle of pills Junmyeon’s been staring at for the past few hours, veins flooded with adrenaline fighting the way his mind is trying to shut down, to block out the noise and the lights and most of all the memories. “This is what will break you, but only if you let it. And you can’t let that happen. I haven’t told you everything I know yet.”
Junmyeon hears the front door slam open and Kyungsoo calls to him, asking again, uselessly, if he’s all right. By the time Kyungsoo slides open the door to his room, peering in to see if Junmyeon’s still curled up hopelessly on his cot, Kai is gone.
“Junmyeon! You’re up!” Kyungsoo says happily, cautiously moving over to where Junmyeon is sitting, staring thoughtfully at the bottle of pills in his hand.
“I am,” Junmyeon says thoughtfully, tossing the bottle away, hearing it rattle as it hits the floor. “I really am.”
The next time he sees Baekhyun is also the next time he sees Kai, though this time Junmyeon knows the two aren’t related.
“It’s been hard,” Baekhyun says, long, thin fingers curled around his coffee cup. “But I’m sure you understand. And I’m so glad you’re doing well. I was afraid. Well. You just seemed to take it so hard…”
“I know,” Junmyeon says with a small smile as he watches Baekhyun blush awkwardly. “I’m not you, Baekhyun, I can’t just brush off the things people say to me. And it was hard. But I’m okay now. I have Wu Fan and I’m almost done with my PhD and even though it sometimes doesn’t feel quite real, I’m living my own life. I’m okay.”
“I’m glad,” Baekhyun says, and when he reaches over to place a hand comfortingly on top of Junmyeon’s, Junmyeon can feel the cool slide of the wedding ring against his skin. He hadn’t gone to the wedding, not quite ready at the time to see Baekhyun again, to be reminded of everything he’d lost by falling in love with him. Not quite ready to see him holding someone else’s hands, see him smiling so brilliantly into Chanyeol’s eyes the way he used to smile into Junmyeon’s.
But now, as Junmyeon opens the door to their apartment, letting Wu Fan sweep him up into a welcoming kiss, he thinks he’s ready to be happy for Baekhyun, happy for both of them for not letting this bit of shared past break them. Though Baekhyun was only ever in danger of bending while Junmyeon was threatening to snap in two.
This time Junmyeon’s expecting Kai, waiting alone in the bedroom as out in the living room Wu Fan fiddles with the TV, flipping through the channels until he finds a basketball game that he wants to watch.
“It’s been nearly seven years since I last saw you,” he says quietly, and Kai glances up at him through his dark lashes, as ageless as he’d seemed when Junmyeon first met him.
“Has it?” Kai asks thoughtfully, moving closer as if daring Junmyeon to back away. He doesn’t, which just makes Kai grin.
“I thought it would be different with him,” Junmyeon says, motioning helplessly around the room, at Wu Fan’s shirts hanging in the closet, at his socks spread across the carpet. “We’ve been together for three years, did you know that, Kai? Three years and it was all going so well and now this. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Kai says, too quickly to be believable, and Junmyeon glares at him in annoyance. “Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.”
“Obviously,” Junmyeon snorts, if only to hold back a sob. “I must be looking in really awful places if all I could think about last night was the way his blood would look spattered across the kitchen floor when he handed me that knife to cut some onions.”
“There’s something very poetic about it,” Kai muses, stepping even closer so he can fold Junmyeon into his arms and Junmyeon doesn’t even mind.
“No, there’s not,” Junmyeon moans into Kai’s shirt, finally letting the tears fall that he’s been holding back since last night, when he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss Wu Fan goodnight because he’d been so terrified of hurting him. “There’s nothing poetic about it at all.”
But suddenly Kai is pulling Junmyeon’s head up and pressing their lips together and anything else Junmyeon had been planning to say is lost in a rush of tongue and teeth and lips and kissing Kai is nothing like kissing Wu Fan, it’s nothing like kissing anyone else and Junmyeon is addicted to this feeling and seven years is a long time to wait for a fix.
“I’m here,” Kai says, as he shoves Junmyeon backwards, sending him sprawling across the bed, and Junmyeon doesn’t even have time to wonder how Kai knew where Wu Fan keeps his stash of materials before Kai is yanking down his pants and slick fingers are pressing at the clef of his ass.
“Fuck, Kai,” Junmyeon whines, arching his back as Kai shoves the first finger in, following it all too quickly by the second, white spots of pain blurring the edges of Junmyeon’s vision. Wu Fan is always gentle, always makes sure that the pain melts into pleasure before continuing, but Kai is nothing like that, already pumping in two fingers as his other hand curls loosely around Junmyeon’s rapidly hardening cock.
“And you thought I wouldn’t be solid, that you wouldn’t be able to touch me,” Kai hisses, sliding his hand down Junmyeon’s erection with maddeningly slow strokes, as if to contrast the harsh way he’s fucking Junmyeon open, a third finger slipping in beside the other two as Junmyeon writhes under his touch.
“I was-I can’t-Kai please more,” Junmyeon moans, as Kai finds the bundle of nerves inside him and presses hard against it until the room begins to spin. And he’s not quite sure how Wu Fan hasn’t heard anything through the walls, isn’t quite sure how he can explain this if Wu Fan suddenly walks into the room. But then, without warning, Kai is leaning down and taking Junmyeon into his mouth, lips stretched so prettily Junmyeon can’t tear his eyes away. And Junmyeon tries to arch into the touch, absorbed by the hot wetness, but then Kai’s hands are on his hips, pressing him into the bed, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise.
“Kai, please,” Junmyeon whimpers, as Kai licks up the underside of his shaft, “please, please, please.”
“I know,” Kai says, sliding Junmyeon out of his mouth so quickly Junmyeon’s left gasping, begging, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes because he thinks his body is about to explode with want. And Kai must know because the slick head of his cock is pressing against Junmyeon’s hole and then he’s inside and Junmyeon’s breath hitches roughly, eyes snapping open to see Kai staring at him with a strange glassy look. And then Junmyeon’s jerking his hips forwards, trying to slide Kai deeper inside him despite the warm hands still pinning him to the bed, and Kai gets the message, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Junmyeon throws his head back, eyes closed, mouth open, spilling an endless stream of small breathy sounds.
“Look at me,” Kai groans, as Junmyeon’s walls tighten around his aching cock, and Junmyeon complies, eyes flying open to take in the sight of Kai buried deep inside of him, hair dripping with sweat, skin glowing in the lamplight shining in through the window. It’s almost too much to bear, and Kai just looks so perfect and so beautiful that Junmyeon wants to preserve this moment forever, to hold time still until he can etch Kai’s face into his memory.
But Junmyeon can’t stop time, can’t do anything but moan as Kai lifts a hand from his hips to tighten it around Junmyeon’s erection, stroking in time with his harsh thrusts, until whiteness bursts across Junmyeon’s vision and he spills over Kai’s hand, mumbling broken phrases that sound like please and you’re beautiful and maybe I love you. And then Junmyeon can feel Kai pulsing inside of him, warmth crawling up Junmyeon’s insides even after Kai pulls away, standing up until he’s towering over Junmyeon, eyes glinting in the darkness.
“I should go,” he says, and Junmyeon’s tired and satisfied and all he wants is to hold Kai close to him and whisper sweet words into his ear in uneven sentences that Kai won’t understand, but by the time he manages to reach out a hand, begging Kai not to leave, he’s already gone.
“I want to know what you know,” Junmyeon whispers into the darkness, but there’s no one there to hear him.
“I’m so glad you were able to make it!” Baekhyun smiles, pulling Junmyeon into a tight hug. Junmyeon notices Chanyeol standing off to the side, face serene, and he tries not to think about the way Chanyeol’s expression speaks of such deep caring, such unconditional love.
“It’s nice to see everyone again,” Junmyeon says, and it is, even if he’s still not quite used to the way Baekhyun relaxes instantly into Chanyeol’s touch, letting him guide him around the room like they can’t bear to be separated for more than a few moments.
“I’m so sorry about you and Wu Fan,” Chanyeol says slowly, eyes shining with sympathy, and Junmyeon’s almost glad he can’t work up enough emotion to dislike him.
“It was probably for the best,” Junmyeon says, giving the two of them a weak smile. “We both knew it wasn’t working out long before we actually decided to end things.”
“Well, who needs him anyway?” Baekhyun giggles, gesturing towards the crowded dance floor. “It’s my fifth anniversary so I proclaim that you should celebrate the end of a nearly four-year-long relationship by getting really drunk and hooking up with a random stranger!”
“Ah, so you want Junmyeon to follow in your footsteps,” Chanyeol teases, and Junmyeon dutifully mimes projectile vomiting when Baekhyun gives him a sweet smile before pulling him in for a kiss.
“But really, have fun,” Chanyeol says warmly and Junmyeon suddenly feels a rush of gratitude that Chanyeol was the one who found Baekhyun, the one who pulled him out of the hole he’d thrown himself into and reminded him that he wasn’t worthless.
“I’ll try,” he says, as he picks his way hesitantly towards the dance floor.
The lights are dim and the music is loud, and even though this sort of thing usually terrifies Junmyeon, tonight it excites him, the heavy beat thumping along with his heart, drawing him in. A thin, lithe girl winks at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, but Junmyeon quickly ducks out of her grip, gasping as he tries not to imagine the way her long, white neck would look ringed with purple bruises. His vision’s going dark and he can feel his heart rate speeding up, and it’s suddenly very hard to breathe, bodies crushing against his own like they’re trying to drown him. And then he’s looking into the face of a tall, thin man with hooded eyes and bleached hair who grinds shamelessly against Junmyeon, and Junmyeon only just manages to lurch away, further into the crowd, before the image hits of the man sprawled across the sidewalk several stories below Junmyeon’s apartment.
Junmyeon is desperate now, heart beating so fast he thinks it might catch fire, and he can barely see but he knows he just needs to get off this dance floor, get away from all these people who have triggered this feeling that he doesn’t know how to explain. And the images are flooding him now, the face of every person he touches flashing across the darkness clouding his eyes. He sees their bodies broken and mangled and he sees blood slicking the floor of his kitchen, of his bedroom, and he tries to scream but his throat suddenly closes, he tries to block out these things he doesn’t want to feel, balling his hands into fists and shoving them into his pockets, but it doesn’t work. And then, just as he thinks he’s about to go insane, he bumps into someone’s chest. Someone hard, and warm, who doesn’t smell like cologne or sweat or alcohol, doesn’t smell like anything at all.
“Hello, Junmyeon,” Kai says happily, placing his hands on Junmyeon’s shoulders and spinning him around until his back is pressed against Kai’s chest.
“Kai, I can’t, I have to-” Junmyeon sputters but as Kai rubs his body smoothly against Junmyeon’s the words flatten out into a quiet gasp that has Kai humming with pleasure, ruffling Junmyeon’s hair affectionately.
“See how nice this is, Junmyeon?” he says, dropping his hands to Junmyeon’s waist and all Junmyeon can think about is how nice Kai’s hands are, how large and how warm. But then someone else brushes up against his arm and there’s blood and screaming and Junmyeon spins around, trying simultaneously to shove Kai away and pull him closer.
“Why is this happening?” Junmyeon asks desperately. “It’s never been this bad before, what’s happening?”
“It is getting a little out of hand,” Kai mutters in Junmyeon’s ear, laughing softly when Junmyeon flinches away from another drunk girl moving a bit too close. “I would have thought you would have more of a handle on it by now.”
“A handle on what?” Junmyeon begs, gripping Kai’s forearms like they’re lifelines, eyes darting all around as he tries to move them away from the dance floor, away from all the people. “What is wrong with me? You always say that you know things, well fucking tell me already.”
“You want me to tell you?” Kai asks, raising one delicate eyebrow, and Junmyeon doesn’t know how he manages to look so intoxicating and so frustrating at the same time.
“Yes,” Junmyeon gasps, jerking every time someone who isn’t Kai presses against him. “Please, just tell me.”
“If you insist,” Kai purrs, and then he’s grabbing Junmyeon’s hand, leading him through a corridor that somehow magically opens before them, yanking Junmyeon quickly through the mob of sweaty bodies before they close ranks behind him.
Junmyeon isn’t sure where they’re going, doesn’t know where they are when Kai draws to a halt, stopping so suddenly Junmyeon runs into his back. They’re standing in what looks like the end of a dark alleyway, though Junmyeon has no idea how they got here from the crowded dance floor. The light surrounding them is dim, only small slivers of moonlight piercing the thick darkness above them caused by something Junmyeon can’t quite make out-smoke? Fabric? Stone? He can barely see Kai, only knows he’s standing directly in front of him by the feel of his warm hands clasped in Junmyeon’s own and the glitter of his eyes in the dark.
“Well?” Junmyeon gasps, mind still reeling from the lights and the music and the smell of blood thick in the air. “Why is this happening? Why won’t it stop?”
“First things first,” Kai says with a thoughtful expression. Junmyeon hates it, hates how he can be calm when it feels like Junmyeon’s world is falling apart. “How old were you the first time we met.”
“Why does that-” Junmyeon starts to complain, but when he sees the way Kai is staring at him, eyes dark and heavy, he stops. “Fifteen. I was fifteen.”
“So young,” Kai says musingly, and Junmyeon thinks he can almost see a sharp glint of pity in his eyes before Kai blinks and it’s gone. “Most people don’t make it this long.”
“What are you talking about?” Junmyeon begs. “What do you mean most people?”
“People like you,” Kai sighs, as if it should be obvious, and Junmyeon groans. Even though he’s not on the crowded dance floor anymore, there are still images flashing through his head-people lying broken and shattered, his hands spotlessly clean against crimson carpet.
“Am I crazy? Am I some sort of psychopath?” he asks, passing his hands over his face tiredly. It takes so much effort to push the words out, everything so bright and loud and frantic next to Kai standing in front of him so still and serene. He can’t see the stars.
“That’s one of the things I like about you, more than any of the others,” Kai says with a broad smile that makes Junmyeon want to smile back even though his head aches. “You’re always looking in the wrong places.”
And Junmyeon doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, can’t think of anything to say besides, “I love you.”
“Wrong place,” Kai says, and his expression is almost pained. “You’ve never actually hurt anyone.”
“I know, I know, I know,” Junmyeon says, stepping forward and desperately grabbing a fistful of Kai’s shirt. He can tell from the way Kai flinches that he’s surprised. So Junmyeon is capable of surprising him after all. “I know. Yet.”
“In a way, it’s a shame,” Kai says, voice clear and pensive in the night air prickling against Junmyeon’s skin. “You’re too kind. You could have done so much good.”
“Who are the others?” Junmyeon asks, tightening his grip on Kai’s shirt until Kai’s hand comes up to cover his own, trying to disentangle his stiff fingers. “Do you fuck them too? Get them to fall in love with you?”
He grins savagely when he sees Kai flinch again, fingers tightening angrily around Junmyeon’s. But he doesn’t let Kai pull away, and Kai doesn’t try. He just stands there, breathing in smoke and stardust that Junmyeon can taste on his own tongue.
“Most of them are afraid of me,” Kai finally says, but his voice is glassy and hard and Junmyeon suddenly feels just a little afraid as well. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
“I could never be more afraid of you than I am of myself,” Junmyeon says, and it’s the truth. His hands are pale in the moonlight, curled like delicate lilies. Flowers of death.
“And that’s why you’re different,” Kai murmurs, and then he’s pulling Junmyeon closer, yanking his arms down to his sides and crushing their bodies together. Kai is so warm that Junmyeon feels like he’s standing in front of a fire, but he can’t feel Kai’s heartbeat, can’t feel anything but his own pulse pounding in his throat, in his wrists, in his chest. It’s so loud in the quiet darkness.
“I don’t want to be different,” Junmyeon sighs against Kai’s shoulder, and he knows Kai can hear him because his hands come up to slide comfortingly through Junmyeon’s hair.
“You could come with me, you know,” Kai says quietly, as if it’s a secret he’s not supposed to reveal. “You’re probably better suited for this than most of us. Most of us don’t want it. You want it, you want it more than anything. It’s what you’re made for.”
“I’m just so tired,” Junmyeon says, breath hot against Kai’s neck. Kai doesn’t shiver, doesn’t move at all. He simply stands there, and lets Junmyeon drip salt against the skin stretched across his collarbones, moisture collecting in every shallow dip and hollow. “I’m just so tired of feeling like this.”
“Come with me,” Kai says, more earnestly this time, and when he pulls Junmyeon’s head up so they’re gazing directly at each other his eyes are suspiciously bright. “Please.”
“You already know what I’m going to say,” Junmyeon says, and Kai’s mouth twists into something like a smile, something like a grimace.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Kai admits, thumb tracing along the curve of Junmyeon’s jaw. Junmyeon sighs at the touch. Kai is so warm. “It’s going to hurt.”
“You say that like I’ve never hurt before,” Junmyeon says, and this time he’s brave enough to pull Kai closer, to kiss him, gasping when Kai kisses back roughly, licking deep into his mouth. Kai tastes like emptiness, the space between two lines, and Junmyeon can’t get enough of it.
There’s a cold wind blowing down the alleyway, but Junmyeon can’t feel it. His fingers are cold but when Kai twines their hands together they begin to warm. His heart is beating faster than a bird in a tiny, gilded cage, like it knows exactly what’s coming even if Junmyeon has no idea.
Kai is right. It hurts.
“My name is Kim Junmyeon,” Junmyeon says, and he knows his eyes are dark and his smile is bright, fracturing like crystal in the winter air. “But you’re going to call me Suho.”
“Oh, really,” the boy says flatly, though Junmyeon can see that he’s frightened, can feel his heart beating, steady pulse rippling the air around him. His name is Oh Sehun. He is twenty years old. He dreams of drowning, choking on lungfuls of water, dirt pouring down his throat as he tries to scream for air. He’s better with knives than he’s ever had the opportunity to find out. He hasn’t killed anyone. If Junmyeon has anything to do with it, he never will.
“Yes,” Junmyeon says simply, admiring the way Sehun’s eyes are wide but defiant, brow yanked downwards in a strange mixture of fear and pride. His skin is so pale that he reminds Junmyeon of a marble statue, like he emerged piece by piece from a chunk of heartless stone, coaxed out into the open air by some crazed, tireless sculptor.
“Suho,” Sehun says thoughtfully, and Suho shivers, liking the way it sounds on his tongue. Jongin is going to like this boy, he can already tell. There’s something of the same hardness about them, some of the same secrecy, like they’ve been forced to realize the value of masks and lies far too early in life.
“Do you want to hear what I know?” Junmyeon asks, and Sehun grins broadly, angrily. It’s cold but Junmyeon’s hand is warm when he rests it on Sehun’s shoulder.
“Yes,” Sehun says, and this time it’s Junmyeon’s turn to smile.
Pairing: Suho/Kai
Rating: NC-17
Genre: angst, sort of supernatural?au
Length: 6,750
Summary: Junmyeon is fifteen years old the first time he wants to kill someone.
Warning: slight graphic imagery, references to homophobia and suicidal thoughts
Junmyeon is fifteen years old the first time he wants to kill someone.
He’s visiting his grandparents on their farm because his parents insist that the city air isn’t good for him, that getting away from the stress of school and his busy schedule for a few days will restore his health and make him stop getting sick all the time. As the train pulls away from the station with a loud hiss of steam Junmyeon thinks that they probably just want a few days where they can avoid each other without having to pretend to be happy whenever he’s around.
He hasn’t been to the farm in a while, not since he was ten, and the place looks different, smaller somehow. His grandparents seem happy to see him, his grandmother standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and exclaiming over how much he’s grown. His grandfather nods appreciatively when Junmyeon admits that he’s stopped taking singing lessons in favor of a programming class.
“Singing is for girls,” his grandfather says gruffly, patting Junmyeon a bit too hard on the back. “Computers and hard work are for men. You made the right choice.”
The words make Junmyeon’s throat close unpleasantly and his mouth goes so dry he can’t do more than nod before retiring to his small room at the back of the house. He throws himself down on the scratchy quilt covering the bed and wishes he could sing with his tears rather than his voice, sparkling drops of water belting out a sappy love song as they melt slowly into the dark fabric beneath his cheek.
The next morning, Junmyeon pads into the kitchen only to have his grandmother grab the pan he’s holding right out of his hands, shooing him towards the table and reminding him that it’s the woman’s job to cook-Junmyeon shouldn’t be worrying about that. When he grows up and gets married he’ll have to make sure to find a nice girl to cook for him. Junmyeon simply nods again, focusing on the slide of his feet against the cool wooden floorboards, and folds himself up on one of the large wooden chairs surrounding the table, wondering why his parents decided he needed the entire week of school break to “restore his health.”
When his grandmother finally puts a plate of eggs in front of him-slightly burnt and flavorless-Junmyeon tries to imagine that they’re the seasoned fried eggs he would have made for himself, but it doesn’t quite work. His grandfather clomps in from outside, shoving off his boots beside the door and slapping his hands together to remove some of the dust that’s settled on them. He sits down heavily at the head of the table, so close Junmyeon can smell the cigarette smoke and frost and hay folded into the creases of his shirt.
“Do you want to go out and shoot with me today?” his grandfather asks, and Junmyeon starts slightly at the words, unaccustomed to hearing his grandfather speak in such long sentences. He doesn’t particularly want to, but he knows he’s supposed to say yes so he nods, earning himself another painful slap on the back.
“Have fun!” his grandmother yells as they step out onto the porch, Junmyeon shivering sharply when the cold air hits his skin.
His grandfather leads him over to the pale red barn, where he’s set up a few bales of hay and stuck a target in the center of them. On a table about a hundred meters away sits a long rifle, of the kind Junmyeon hasn’t seen outside of history textbooks, and a pistol, of the kind Junmyeon sees all the time on TV shows about cops and crime and spies. They both gleam subtly in the pale winter light, and Junmyeon shudders involuntarily.
“Here, let’s try the pistol first,” his grandfather says jovially, picking up the gun and swiftly inserting a cartridge. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s hard to shoot straight because of the recoil, but it’s more fun than the rifle.”
He hands Junmyeon the gun and Junmyeon nearly drops it in surprise, not expecting the weight of it in his hand.
“Careful,” his grandfather growls, grabbing Junmyeon’s thin fingers with his thick, callused ones, curling them tightly around the gun until it’s pointed directly at the target. Or where the target was, because in the process of Junmyeon nearly shooting himself in the foot the piece of cardboard has been blown off by a sudden icy breeze, landing gently on the grass at the base of the bales of hay.
“Let me go fix that,” his grandfather grunts, releasing his hands from Junmyeon’s once it appears Junmyeon’s capable of supporting the gun on his own. And then, as his grandfather walks out in front of him, bending down to pick up the target lying on the ground, Junmyeon feels a strange jolt in his stomach.
He’s not sure why it happens, even afterward he’s never able to explain quite what he felt. All he knows is, he can suddenly hear his heart pumping far too loudly in his ears, and the world seems to dissolve into a blur of pure adrenaline as Junmyeon is overcome by a terrible urge to pull to trigger. His hands are steady, so horribly steady, and as his grandfather fusses with the target, Junmyeon feels his mind go blank, perfectly calm, like a sinking ship floundering into the eye of a hurricane. But then his grandfather is turning, walking back towards Junmyeon, and gesturing for him to try and shoot.
Junmyeon hits the inner ring of the target five times in a row before his grandfather yells for him to stop.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he laughs, and the moment his rough hands settle on Junmyeon’s shoulders the feeling is gone, sucked away so rapidly he feels dizzy and a little sick. His knees buckle and it takes all of his strength not to collapse onto the ground. He can’t keep his arms from bending, throwing the gun down onto the small table by his side, ignoring the confused look his grandfather is giving him.
“I’m not feeling too well,” Junmyeon says shortly, turning and walking back up the gravel path towards the house. His grandfather doesn’t follow him, and for that Junmyeon is grateful. He’s almost at the door when he hears a voice from behind him.
“That was some nice shooting.”
Gasping, Junmyeon turns around, and what he sees is almost as astonishing as hearing a disembodied voice speaking to him in the middle of a nondescript winter’s day out in the middle of nowhere. It’s a boy.
The boy smiles at Junmyeon, as if expecting a thank you for his compliment. His teeth are white and perfectly straight, and his dark hair falls carefully over his dark eyes, colors offset slightly by golden skin that glimmers in the weak, watery sunlight.
“My name is Kim Jongin,” the boy says slowly, smirking at Junmyeon in a way that makes him feel immediately defensive and self-conscious, though he’s not sure why. “But you’re going to call me Kai.”
“And why would I do that?” Junmyeon asks defiantly.
“Because you didn’t kill that man,” Kai says, and Junmyeon drops his gaze to the grass at his feet.
“Kai,” Junmyeon says, and he’s surprised to see the boy shiver at the way his name sounds in Junmyeon’s mouth, the single syllable framed softly by tongue and lips and teeth.
“You’re an interesting boy, Kim Junmyeon,” Kai says thoughtfully, running a hand through his silky hair, leaving it ruffled with short bits sticking up. It looks messy and out of place and Junmyeon just wants to smooth it out until it all lies flat again.
“How do you know my name?” Junmyeon asks sharply, but in return Kai only smiles-a thin, predatory sort of smile that makes Junmyeon feel a rush of adrenaline almost as strange as the one he’s just recovered from.
“I know a lot of things,” Kai mutters, and Junmyeon would lean in to hear better if he wasn’t so afraid of getting any closer to this boy, to Kai. “Would you like to know something else?”
“No,” Junmyeon says childishly, crossing his arms over his chest. Kai gives him a searching glance before frowning and putting up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Your loss,” he says before turning and walking away, towards the woods bordering the property, the line of trees Junmyeon’s never allowed to go near for fear of him being injured by some wild animal or careless hunter. Junmyeon almost calls out, almost yells to him to come back, that he does want to hear what Kai knows after all. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls open the door to the house, pads softly past the living room where his grandmother is sitting with a magazine, and curls up on the bed in his small room, pulling the blinds sharply across the window.
That night Junmyeon dreams of moonlight and dark gravel paths turned black with water or blood and as Junmyeon stumbles through the woods, calling out Kai’s name, he suddenly sees a boy advancing towards him, dark shape melting and blending with the outlines of the trees. But before the shape can get close enough for Junmyeon to see its face he jerks awake, soaked with sweat, heart pounding, blankets twisted around him like a shroud.
“Not exactly the most social person, are you?”
These are the first words Kai says to Junmyeon the second time they meet. Junmyeon is sitting on his bed, trying to finish a book before it’s due back at the library, and looking up to see Kai sitting in his desk chair is so unexpected Junmyeon suddenly finds himself entirely unable to breathe.
“What, surely you haven’t forgotten about me?” Kai asks, lips turned down in a pout. He unwinds himself from his sitting position and saunters over to Junmyeon’s bed, obviously enjoying the way the motion involuntarily draws Junmyeon’s eyes to his hips.
“Why are you here?” Junmyeon asks, as Kai settles himself down on Junmyeon’s bedspread, so close their thighs are touching. Junmyeon can feel the heat of Kai’s leg bleeding through the thin fabric of his pants-the kid is practically a furnace.
“Why do you think?” Kai laughs, and it takes all of Junmyeon’s self-restraint not to punch him square in the stomach. If it were Kyungsoo, or Luhan, or Baekhyun-anyone else, really-he would do it. But for some reason he finds himself unwilling to touch Kai. He doesn’t want to know how solid he feels.
“I have no idea,” Junmyeon says, eyes fixed intently on his hands folded in his lap. “I’d almost forgotten you existed.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Kai says, reaching out a hand and yanking Junmyeon’s chin up so they’re staring into each other’s eyes. Kai’s eyes are so, so dark and so, so deep. “Two years isn’t nearly enough time for you to have even begun to forget me.”
And even though Junmyeon jerks his chin out of Kai’s very solid hand, he knows that Kai is right. Thoughts of Kai have been stored deep in the recesses of Junmyeon’s mind for the past few years, only tentatively brought to the surface when Junmyeon is feeling weak and tired and unwilling to pretend they don’t exist anymore. But that doesn’t mean he understands why Kai has suddenly decided to show up here, in Junmyeon’s room, two years after he walked off into the woods seemingly without any intention of returning.
“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Junmyeon says, perhaps a bit too bitterly, and he sees Kai smirk darkly.
“But you know why I’m here now,” he says, dragging hot fingers along the curve of Junmyeon’s neck, and all of a sudden Junmyeon does know, he knows exactly why.
“That has nothing to do with you,” Junmyeon hisses, shoving himself backwards, away from Kai and his lithe, warm fingers and his knowing smile.
“I never said it did,” Kai says, turning the hand so recently in contact with Junmyeon’s skin so he can examine the nails thoughtfully, confirming their perfection.
And even though Kai isn’t touching him anymore Junmyeon knows he must be doing something, because the memories rushing to the surface are too bright and too real to be coming from Junmyeon’s own mind. The way Baekhyun’s eager lips had felt slanting against his own, the way Junmyeon’s surprise at being pressed up against the wall of Baekhyun’s room had dulled to an aching pleasure as Baekhyun’s hands had settled on his waist. The way Junmyeon had cupped Baekhyun’s face in his hands and suddenly the edges of his vision had gone white and he could see himself so easily tightening his fingers, wrenching Baekhyun’s delicate spine out of alignment with one rough twist, leaving him cold and broken on the floor.
But then the moment had gone, Baekhyun had drawn back, eyes bright as he scanned Junmyeon’s face for a sign of what had made him suddenly freeze, and Junmyeon had stepped quickly away, grabbing his backpack and sliding out the door before Baekhyun could call out to him, could try to stop him.
“I would never have pegged him for your type,” Kai says conversationally, and Junmyeon shoots him an angry glare.
“And what would you know about my type?” he spits, annoyed at the way Kai seems perpetually amused by him.
“Quite a bit,” Kai says, going back to his intense examination of his fingernails. “Do you finally want to hear what I know?”
“No,” Junmyeon says angrily, and this time he doesn’t care that Kai looks at him with something akin to pity. He just wants Kai to leave, to walk out of his life and never come back.
“Well then,” Kai says, and he stands as if preparing to leave. “I’ll just have to show you something before I go, even though you didn’t ask.”
And then he’s swooping down and slotting their mouths together and this is nothing like kissing Baekhyun. Baekhyun had been soft and eager and wet but Kai is hard, lips pressing roughly against Junmyeon’s, and desperate, as if Kai is afraid that Junmyeon is the one who will disappear without warning. And Junmyeon hates to admit it but the instant Kai’s lips touch his own a fiery jolt shoots through him and this is nothing like kissing Baekhyun because Junmyeon is suddenly all too aware of every single cell in his body pulsing and writhing against Kai’s lips and when Kai finally pulls away, leaving Junmyeon panting and gasping, he’s only just able to hold back a pained whine at the loss.
“I know that you liked that,” Kai laughs, giving Junmyeon another one of those sickening grins that Junmyeon would like so much to wipe off his face. “I’ll be seeing you.”
And then Kai is gone and Junmyeon is left sitting breathlessly on his bed, fingers pressed gently against his lips, mind racing nearly out of control.
He’s not expecting to see Kai again so soon, although at the time he appears Junmyeon’s not really expecting to see anyone, not really expecting to see anything except the inside of his eyelids or the ceiling of Kyungsoo’s room.
“You look awful,” Kai says softly, and Junmyeon jerks upright so rapidly he nearly falls off the small camp bed Kyungsoo’s set up for him.
“Yeah, well, what do you care?” Junmyeon asks, and he knows his voice sounds harsh with tears and anger and fear but he just can’t bring himself to care.
“What, you think I don’t care about you?” Kai asks, rubbing a warm hand soothingly across Junmyeon’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, you know.”
“This is all your fault,” Junmyeon mutters harshly, and he knows it’s not true but at the moment he just wants someone to blame and who better than this strange boy who won’t let Junmyeon call him by his real name and only seems to show up when Junmyeon least wants him around.
“You know that’s not true,” Kai says warmly, and Junmyeon hates the way the words slow the rapid beating of his heart, settling comfortingly in his stomach. He hates it so much.
“I just didn’t. I just thought,” Junmyeon says, and he doesn’t really know what he’s trying to say but it’s all right because Kai seems to understand anyway. He wraps an arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders and pulls him in close, letting Junmyeon bury his head in his chest.
“It’s okay,” Kai murmurs as Junmyeon fists his hands in Kai’s shirt, vindictively glad that he’s staining the fabric with salt, and tries not to think about the way Kai smells of absolutely nothing at all. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Yeah, because it’s totally okay to be called an abomination by the people who are supposed to take care of you, who are supposed to love you,” Junmyeon tries to say, but the words are cut off in a hiccupping sob that he can’t hold back.
And Kai doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to because all Junmyeon can think about is the look in his parents’ eyes when the principle of the school called them into his office, telling them that their son had been caught in sin, performing extremely unnatural acts that threatened the very foundations the school was built upon, namely, kissing-if such a disgusting act can even be called kissing-another boy, yes, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, don’t worry, the other boy’s parents have already been alerted, I hope you find a way to resolve this as a family.
“I just,” Junmyeon hiccups again. “What am I going to do? At least I’ll be going to college in the fall but even with my scholarship what am I going to do about food or clothes or books? I don’t have anything. I didn’t even get to take anything from my room before they…before I…”
“Junmyeon,” Kai says, and when Junmyeon looks up he’s startled to see a dark fire glowing dangerously in Kai’s eyes. “You’re going to get through this. This is not going to break you.”
“How do you-”
“This,” Kai says disgustedly, and when Junmyeon looks up he sees him holding the small bottle of pills Junmyeon’s been staring at for the past few hours, veins flooded with adrenaline fighting the way his mind is trying to shut down, to block out the noise and the lights and most of all the memories. “This is what will break you, but only if you let it. And you can’t let that happen. I haven’t told you everything I know yet.”
Junmyeon hears the front door slam open and Kyungsoo calls to him, asking again, uselessly, if he’s all right. By the time Kyungsoo slides open the door to his room, peering in to see if Junmyeon’s still curled up hopelessly on his cot, Kai is gone.
“Junmyeon! You’re up!” Kyungsoo says happily, cautiously moving over to where Junmyeon is sitting, staring thoughtfully at the bottle of pills in his hand.
“I am,” Junmyeon says thoughtfully, tossing the bottle away, hearing it rattle as it hits the floor. “I really am.”
The next time he sees Baekhyun is also the next time he sees Kai, though this time Junmyeon knows the two aren’t related.
“It’s been hard,” Baekhyun says, long, thin fingers curled around his coffee cup. “But I’m sure you understand. And I’m so glad you’re doing well. I was afraid. Well. You just seemed to take it so hard…”
“I know,” Junmyeon says with a small smile as he watches Baekhyun blush awkwardly. “I’m not you, Baekhyun, I can’t just brush off the things people say to me. And it was hard. But I’m okay now. I have Wu Fan and I’m almost done with my PhD and even though it sometimes doesn’t feel quite real, I’m living my own life. I’m okay.”
“I’m glad,” Baekhyun says, and when he reaches over to place a hand comfortingly on top of Junmyeon’s, Junmyeon can feel the cool slide of the wedding ring against his skin. He hadn’t gone to the wedding, not quite ready at the time to see Baekhyun again, to be reminded of everything he’d lost by falling in love with him. Not quite ready to see him holding someone else’s hands, see him smiling so brilliantly into Chanyeol’s eyes the way he used to smile into Junmyeon’s.
But now, as Junmyeon opens the door to their apartment, letting Wu Fan sweep him up into a welcoming kiss, he thinks he’s ready to be happy for Baekhyun, happy for both of them for not letting this bit of shared past break them. Though Baekhyun was only ever in danger of bending while Junmyeon was threatening to snap in two.
This time Junmyeon’s expecting Kai, waiting alone in the bedroom as out in the living room Wu Fan fiddles with the TV, flipping through the channels until he finds a basketball game that he wants to watch.
“It’s been nearly seven years since I last saw you,” he says quietly, and Kai glances up at him through his dark lashes, as ageless as he’d seemed when Junmyeon first met him.
“Has it?” Kai asks thoughtfully, moving closer as if daring Junmyeon to back away. He doesn’t, which just makes Kai grin.
“I thought it would be different with him,” Junmyeon says, motioning helplessly around the room, at Wu Fan’s shirts hanging in the closet, at his socks spread across the carpet. “We’ve been together for three years, did you know that, Kai? Three years and it was all going so well and now this. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Kai says, too quickly to be believable, and Junmyeon glares at him in annoyance. “Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.”
“Obviously,” Junmyeon snorts, if only to hold back a sob. “I must be looking in really awful places if all I could think about last night was the way his blood would look spattered across the kitchen floor when he handed me that knife to cut some onions.”
“There’s something very poetic about it,” Kai muses, stepping even closer so he can fold Junmyeon into his arms and Junmyeon doesn’t even mind.
“No, there’s not,” Junmyeon moans into Kai’s shirt, finally letting the tears fall that he’s been holding back since last night, when he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss Wu Fan goodnight because he’d been so terrified of hurting him. “There’s nothing poetic about it at all.”
But suddenly Kai is pulling Junmyeon’s head up and pressing their lips together and anything else Junmyeon had been planning to say is lost in a rush of tongue and teeth and lips and kissing Kai is nothing like kissing Wu Fan, it’s nothing like kissing anyone else and Junmyeon is addicted to this feeling and seven years is a long time to wait for a fix.
“I’m here,” Kai says, as he shoves Junmyeon backwards, sending him sprawling across the bed, and Junmyeon doesn’t even have time to wonder how Kai knew where Wu Fan keeps his stash of materials before Kai is yanking down his pants and slick fingers are pressing at the clef of his ass.
“Fuck, Kai,” Junmyeon whines, arching his back as Kai shoves the first finger in, following it all too quickly by the second, white spots of pain blurring the edges of Junmyeon’s vision. Wu Fan is always gentle, always makes sure that the pain melts into pleasure before continuing, but Kai is nothing like that, already pumping in two fingers as his other hand curls loosely around Junmyeon’s rapidly hardening cock.
“And you thought I wouldn’t be solid, that you wouldn’t be able to touch me,” Kai hisses, sliding his hand down Junmyeon’s erection with maddeningly slow strokes, as if to contrast the harsh way he’s fucking Junmyeon open, a third finger slipping in beside the other two as Junmyeon writhes under his touch.
“I was-I can’t-Kai please more,” Junmyeon moans, as Kai finds the bundle of nerves inside him and presses hard against it until the room begins to spin. And he’s not quite sure how Wu Fan hasn’t heard anything through the walls, isn’t quite sure how he can explain this if Wu Fan suddenly walks into the room. But then, without warning, Kai is leaning down and taking Junmyeon into his mouth, lips stretched so prettily Junmyeon can’t tear his eyes away. And Junmyeon tries to arch into the touch, absorbed by the hot wetness, but then Kai’s hands are on his hips, pressing him into the bed, fingers gripping hard enough to bruise.
“Kai, please,” Junmyeon whimpers, as Kai licks up the underside of his shaft, “please, please, please.”
“I know,” Kai says, sliding Junmyeon out of his mouth so quickly Junmyeon’s left gasping, begging, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes because he thinks his body is about to explode with want. And Kai must know because the slick head of his cock is pressing against Junmyeon’s hole and then he’s inside and Junmyeon’s breath hitches roughly, eyes snapping open to see Kai staring at him with a strange glassy look. And then Junmyeon’s jerking his hips forwards, trying to slide Kai deeper inside him despite the warm hands still pinning him to the bed, and Kai gets the message, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Junmyeon throws his head back, eyes closed, mouth open, spilling an endless stream of small breathy sounds.
“Look at me,” Kai groans, as Junmyeon’s walls tighten around his aching cock, and Junmyeon complies, eyes flying open to take in the sight of Kai buried deep inside of him, hair dripping with sweat, skin glowing in the lamplight shining in through the window. It’s almost too much to bear, and Kai just looks so perfect and so beautiful that Junmyeon wants to preserve this moment forever, to hold time still until he can etch Kai’s face into his memory.
But Junmyeon can’t stop time, can’t do anything but moan as Kai lifts a hand from his hips to tighten it around Junmyeon’s erection, stroking in time with his harsh thrusts, until whiteness bursts across Junmyeon’s vision and he spills over Kai’s hand, mumbling broken phrases that sound like please and you’re beautiful and maybe I love you. And then Junmyeon can feel Kai pulsing inside of him, warmth crawling up Junmyeon’s insides even after Kai pulls away, standing up until he’s towering over Junmyeon, eyes glinting in the darkness.
“I should go,” he says, and Junmyeon’s tired and satisfied and all he wants is to hold Kai close to him and whisper sweet words into his ear in uneven sentences that Kai won’t understand, but by the time he manages to reach out a hand, begging Kai not to leave, he’s already gone.
“I want to know what you know,” Junmyeon whispers into the darkness, but there’s no one there to hear him.
“I’m so glad you were able to make it!” Baekhyun smiles, pulling Junmyeon into a tight hug. Junmyeon notices Chanyeol standing off to the side, face serene, and he tries not to think about the way Chanyeol’s expression speaks of such deep caring, such unconditional love.
“It’s nice to see everyone again,” Junmyeon says, and it is, even if he’s still not quite used to the way Baekhyun relaxes instantly into Chanyeol’s touch, letting him guide him around the room like they can’t bear to be separated for more than a few moments.
“I’m so sorry about you and Wu Fan,” Chanyeol says slowly, eyes shining with sympathy, and Junmyeon’s almost glad he can’t work up enough emotion to dislike him.
“It was probably for the best,” Junmyeon says, giving the two of them a weak smile. “We both knew it wasn’t working out long before we actually decided to end things.”
“Well, who needs him anyway?” Baekhyun giggles, gesturing towards the crowded dance floor. “It’s my fifth anniversary so I proclaim that you should celebrate the end of a nearly four-year-long relationship by getting really drunk and hooking up with a random stranger!”
“Ah, so you want Junmyeon to follow in your footsteps,” Chanyeol teases, and Junmyeon dutifully mimes projectile vomiting when Baekhyun gives him a sweet smile before pulling him in for a kiss.
“But really, have fun,” Chanyeol says warmly and Junmyeon suddenly feels a rush of gratitude that Chanyeol was the one who found Baekhyun, the one who pulled him out of the hole he’d thrown himself into and reminded him that he wasn’t worthless.
“I’ll try,” he says, as he picks his way hesitantly towards the dance floor.
The lights are dim and the music is loud, and even though this sort of thing usually terrifies Junmyeon, tonight it excites him, the heavy beat thumping along with his heart, drawing him in. A thin, lithe girl winks at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, but Junmyeon quickly ducks out of her grip, gasping as he tries not to imagine the way her long, white neck would look ringed with purple bruises. His vision’s going dark and he can feel his heart rate speeding up, and it’s suddenly very hard to breathe, bodies crushing against his own like they’re trying to drown him. And then he’s looking into the face of a tall, thin man with hooded eyes and bleached hair who grinds shamelessly against Junmyeon, and Junmyeon only just manages to lurch away, further into the crowd, before the image hits of the man sprawled across the sidewalk several stories below Junmyeon’s apartment.
Junmyeon is desperate now, heart beating so fast he thinks it might catch fire, and he can barely see but he knows he just needs to get off this dance floor, get away from all these people who have triggered this feeling that he doesn’t know how to explain. And the images are flooding him now, the face of every person he touches flashing across the darkness clouding his eyes. He sees their bodies broken and mangled and he sees blood slicking the floor of his kitchen, of his bedroom, and he tries to scream but his throat suddenly closes, he tries to block out these things he doesn’t want to feel, balling his hands into fists and shoving them into his pockets, but it doesn’t work. And then, just as he thinks he’s about to go insane, he bumps into someone’s chest. Someone hard, and warm, who doesn’t smell like cologne or sweat or alcohol, doesn’t smell like anything at all.
“Hello, Junmyeon,” Kai says happily, placing his hands on Junmyeon’s shoulders and spinning him around until his back is pressed against Kai’s chest.
“Kai, I can’t, I have to-” Junmyeon sputters but as Kai rubs his body smoothly against Junmyeon’s the words flatten out into a quiet gasp that has Kai humming with pleasure, ruffling Junmyeon’s hair affectionately.
“See how nice this is, Junmyeon?” he says, dropping his hands to Junmyeon’s waist and all Junmyeon can think about is how nice Kai’s hands are, how large and how warm. But then someone else brushes up against his arm and there’s blood and screaming and Junmyeon spins around, trying simultaneously to shove Kai away and pull him closer.
“Why is this happening?” Junmyeon asks desperately. “It’s never been this bad before, what’s happening?”
“It is getting a little out of hand,” Kai mutters in Junmyeon’s ear, laughing softly when Junmyeon flinches away from another drunk girl moving a bit too close. “I would have thought you would have more of a handle on it by now.”
“A handle on what?” Junmyeon begs, gripping Kai’s forearms like they’re lifelines, eyes darting all around as he tries to move them away from the dance floor, away from all the people. “What is wrong with me? You always say that you know things, well fucking tell me already.”
“You want me to tell you?” Kai asks, raising one delicate eyebrow, and Junmyeon doesn’t know how he manages to look so intoxicating and so frustrating at the same time.
“Yes,” Junmyeon gasps, jerking every time someone who isn’t Kai presses against him. “Please, just tell me.”
“If you insist,” Kai purrs, and then he’s grabbing Junmyeon’s hand, leading him through a corridor that somehow magically opens before them, yanking Junmyeon quickly through the mob of sweaty bodies before they close ranks behind him.
Junmyeon isn’t sure where they’re going, doesn’t know where they are when Kai draws to a halt, stopping so suddenly Junmyeon runs into his back. They’re standing in what looks like the end of a dark alleyway, though Junmyeon has no idea how they got here from the crowded dance floor. The light surrounding them is dim, only small slivers of moonlight piercing the thick darkness above them caused by something Junmyeon can’t quite make out-smoke? Fabric? Stone? He can barely see Kai, only knows he’s standing directly in front of him by the feel of his warm hands clasped in Junmyeon’s own and the glitter of his eyes in the dark.
“Well?” Junmyeon gasps, mind still reeling from the lights and the music and the smell of blood thick in the air. “Why is this happening? Why won’t it stop?”
“First things first,” Kai says with a thoughtful expression. Junmyeon hates it, hates how he can be calm when it feels like Junmyeon’s world is falling apart. “How old were you the first time we met.”
“Why does that-” Junmyeon starts to complain, but when he sees the way Kai is staring at him, eyes dark and heavy, he stops. “Fifteen. I was fifteen.”
“So young,” Kai says musingly, and Junmyeon thinks he can almost see a sharp glint of pity in his eyes before Kai blinks and it’s gone. “Most people don’t make it this long.”
“What are you talking about?” Junmyeon begs. “What do you mean most people?”
“People like you,” Kai sighs, as if it should be obvious, and Junmyeon groans. Even though he’s not on the crowded dance floor anymore, there are still images flashing through his head-people lying broken and shattered, his hands spotlessly clean against crimson carpet.
“Am I crazy? Am I some sort of psychopath?” he asks, passing his hands over his face tiredly. It takes so much effort to push the words out, everything so bright and loud and frantic next to Kai standing in front of him so still and serene. He can’t see the stars.
“That’s one of the things I like about you, more than any of the others,” Kai says with a broad smile that makes Junmyeon want to smile back even though his head aches. “You’re always looking in the wrong places.”
And Junmyeon doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, can’t think of anything to say besides, “I love you.”
“Wrong place,” Kai says, and his expression is almost pained. “You’ve never actually hurt anyone.”
“I know, I know, I know,” Junmyeon says, stepping forward and desperately grabbing a fistful of Kai’s shirt. He can tell from the way Kai flinches that he’s surprised. So Junmyeon is capable of surprising him after all. “I know. Yet.”
“In a way, it’s a shame,” Kai says, voice clear and pensive in the night air prickling against Junmyeon’s skin. “You’re too kind. You could have done so much good.”
“Who are the others?” Junmyeon asks, tightening his grip on Kai’s shirt until Kai’s hand comes up to cover his own, trying to disentangle his stiff fingers. “Do you fuck them too? Get them to fall in love with you?”
He grins savagely when he sees Kai flinch again, fingers tightening angrily around Junmyeon’s. But he doesn’t let Kai pull away, and Kai doesn’t try. He just stands there, breathing in smoke and stardust that Junmyeon can taste on his own tongue.
“Most of them are afraid of me,” Kai finally says, but his voice is glassy and hard and Junmyeon suddenly feels just a little afraid as well. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
“I could never be more afraid of you than I am of myself,” Junmyeon says, and it’s the truth. His hands are pale in the moonlight, curled like delicate lilies. Flowers of death.
“And that’s why you’re different,” Kai murmurs, and then he’s pulling Junmyeon closer, yanking his arms down to his sides and crushing their bodies together. Kai is so warm that Junmyeon feels like he’s standing in front of a fire, but he can’t feel Kai’s heartbeat, can’t feel anything but his own pulse pounding in his throat, in his wrists, in his chest. It’s so loud in the quiet darkness.
“I don’t want to be different,” Junmyeon sighs against Kai’s shoulder, and he knows Kai can hear him because his hands come up to slide comfortingly through Junmyeon’s hair.
“You could come with me, you know,” Kai says quietly, as if it’s a secret he’s not supposed to reveal. “You’re probably better suited for this than most of us. Most of us don’t want it. You want it, you want it more than anything. It’s what you’re made for.”
“I’m just so tired,” Junmyeon says, breath hot against Kai’s neck. Kai doesn’t shiver, doesn’t move at all. He simply stands there, and lets Junmyeon drip salt against the skin stretched across his collarbones, moisture collecting in every shallow dip and hollow. “I’m just so tired of feeling like this.”
“Come with me,” Kai says, more earnestly this time, and when he pulls Junmyeon’s head up so they’re gazing directly at each other his eyes are suspiciously bright. “Please.”
“You already know what I’m going to say,” Junmyeon says, and Kai’s mouth twists into something like a smile, something like a grimace.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Kai admits, thumb tracing along the curve of Junmyeon’s jaw. Junmyeon sighs at the touch. Kai is so warm. “It’s going to hurt.”
“You say that like I’ve never hurt before,” Junmyeon says, and this time he’s brave enough to pull Kai closer, to kiss him, gasping when Kai kisses back roughly, licking deep into his mouth. Kai tastes like emptiness, the space between two lines, and Junmyeon can’t get enough of it.
There’s a cold wind blowing down the alleyway, but Junmyeon can’t feel it. His fingers are cold but when Kai twines their hands together they begin to warm. His heart is beating faster than a bird in a tiny, gilded cage, like it knows exactly what’s coming even if Junmyeon has no idea.
Kai is right. It hurts.
“My name is Kim Junmyeon,” Junmyeon says, and he knows his eyes are dark and his smile is bright, fracturing like crystal in the winter air. “But you’re going to call me Suho.”
“Oh, really,” the boy says flatly, though Junmyeon can see that he’s frightened, can feel his heart beating, steady pulse rippling the air around him. His name is Oh Sehun. He is twenty years old. He dreams of drowning, choking on lungfuls of water, dirt pouring down his throat as he tries to scream for air. He’s better with knives than he’s ever had the opportunity to find out. He hasn’t killed anyone. If Junmyeon has anything to do with it, he never will.
“Yes,” Junmyeon says simply, admiring the way Sehun’s eyes are wide but defiant, brow yanked downwards in a strange mixture of fear and pride. His skin is so pale that he reminds Junmyeon of a marble statue, like he emerged piece by piece from a chunk of heartless stone, coaxed out into the open air by some crazed, tireless sculptor.
“Suho,” Sehun says thoughtfully, and Suho shivers, liking the way it sounds on his tongue. Jongin is going to like this boy, he can already tell. There’s something of the same hardness about them, some of the same secrecy, like they’ve been forced to realize the value of masks and lies far too early in life.
“Do you want to hear what I know?” Junmyeon asks, and Sehun grins broadly, angrily. It’s cold but Junmyeon’s hand is warm when he rests it on Sehun’s shoulder.
“Yes,” Sehun says, and this time it’s Junmyeon’s turn to smile.