Hit 14
Maybe it’s the thrill Jaejoong’s after. The slow recognition of fear prompted by the prospect that maybe, just maybe, he was going to get caught.
Some people were born to be architects, some teachers, some writers. It’s all a matter of discovering wants within yourself that send you to happiness, no matter how simple or multifarious. Kim Jaejoong was born to kill. It was as plain as structuring buildings. Or perhaps, in Jaejoong’s case, tearing them down under very specific orders.
And he was the best out there. Which was why in the dimly lit corner of a make shift bar located a little over the outskirts of Seoul sat Lee Soonkyu, a supposed depressed wife who wanted her husband six feet under no later than a week. She donned her bug eyes glasses even with the sun down, half of her face practically engulfed in the upright pull of the lapels of her pea colored coat. With a face like hers, so soft on the eyes and probably to the touch-as Jaejoong would imagine-you would never suspect that she would come looking for Jaejoong’s services.
From their brief encounter Jaejoong has gathered that his target was Jung Yunho, son of Jung Jino and Jung Soehyun, future company head of his father’s success. 26 years of age, athletic build, slightly above average frame, and owns a smile as unwrinkled and perfect as his line of signature suits. Jaejoong didn’t have to be told about the last four. Soonkyu bought pictures. And in the years that he’s been in this business, a single glance interjects more facts in Jaejoong’s head rather than assumptions. He wasn’t dubbed the best for nothing.
Soonkyu was worrying her plush, gloss matted lip between her teeth and Jaejoong just knows she’s placing her sentence together; the sentence regarding why she wanted him dead. Jaejoong pockets the pictures, gesturing for the bill to one of the waiters.
“Your reasons are your own, if they’re not going to help me then it’s best we don’t discuss them. I only need to know one more thing.”
Soonkyu fixes her bug eyed gaze back at the hitman before her.
“Are you sure?”
She nods without a moment of hesitance.
~o~
There were certain ways to go about a hit. Jaejoong liked keeping things subtle and classy. Fortunately Soonkyu had similar tastes.
Jaejoong is clad in a uniform of black from head to toe, making it into the house without much effort since it was a Wednesday and he’s known from studying the activities occurring in the house that every Wednesday is the helps’ day off. Wednesday was also Soonkyu’s Pilate’s day, rendering the conditions incapable of being more perfect.
Yunho moves about in the master bedroom, placing his shirts on the bed and a tie on each one to see which goes better with what pattern. He changes his mind, walks back into his closet for another tie and when he emerges Jaejoong is standing beneath the door frame, a hand gun with a silencer cylinder in wrapped in his gloved palm.
They mostly choose the hysterical road, Jaejoong’s hits, when faced with the barrel of a gun. And perhaps that’s why when Yunho merely stares back at him without a hint of puzzlement as he lets the tie in his hands fall on the bed forlornly, Jaejoong is reminded of his first job and how nervous he was.
Jaejoong reaches for his mask, tugging it from the snug fit over his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes.
“I know my wife sent you.” Yunho states, an admission that Jaejoong finds confusing. “Truthfully you’re the first of fourteen who has ever made it this far. However, you can’t take all the credit since I’ve long forgotten how to care. What did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t.” Jaejoong narrows his eyes even though he’s clearly taken aback by the man’s nonchalance.
“Of course. You’ve probably been taught better in hitman academy than to tell the people that you’re about to kill what your name is. That’s fine.”
“Jaejoong.” He croaks. “Kim Jaejoong.”
“Well, Kim Jaejoong sshi.” Yunho sighs. “You’re welcome to take the first shot out of fourteen fails. After all, I have to give Soonkyu an A for effort, having gone as far as hiring all of you repeatedly and you even dressed the part so. Come on. Let’s have it.”
Yunho uncrosses his arms, earning Jaejoong a clean shot to his chest, a new addition to the skeletons in his closet.
Uncertainty bathes Jaejoong’s senses and before he knew it he’s lowering his armed hand. Now, it was Yunho’s turn to act surprised.
“Not without a challenge.” And with that, Jaejoong spins on his heels, leaving the room and as he takes the stairs to the first floor he hears a faint I look forward to it retorted from the bedroom.
~o~
“It’s not that difficult to understand!” Yunho paces behind his desk in his office, a quivering employee seated opposite him, embarrassingly blinking up at him. “You send the products out once I give the final approval! Weren’t these orders clear enough for you?”
“No-I mean, y-yes, sir.”
Then Yunho mumbles something about the employee’s job and he could’ve sworn he heard the word hitman hinted in there somewhere.
“Sir?”
Yunho loosens the knot of his tie as he submerges into his seat, beginning to pick through the pages on his desk. “I said, go out and do your job. Preferably while you still have one.”
The employee files out of the office, gathering stares from the people walking past on his way out.
There’s the distant humming of engines below Yunho’s window, the steady buzz of his airconditioner and a few feet away, behind his file closet, Yunho senses more that hears, a presence breathing hard, waiting.
“You can come out now, Jaejoong.” Yunho rubs at his temples, unflinching as the door opens and a frustrated Jaejoong, the same gun in one hand, comes forward from the closet, his collar damp with sweat.
“That fucking cabinet is stuffy as fuck!”
“Hitman number seven thought the same thing.” Yunho returns to the documents on his desk, his neck curving low, allowing Jaejoong to have a conversation with the crown of his head.
“Of course.”
“I expect you to tap into your inner… oh, I don’t know-insert famous hitman name here-for next time.”
“Or I could just shoot you right now.”
“We’re only on the second attempt and already you’re feeling lazy? Tsk.”
Yunho meets Jaejoong’s stare, silence befalls them. Until Jaejoong stirs, eye rolls and huffs. “You’re good.”
“Likewise.”
~o~
So much for keeping things simple.
Soonkyu had tried to call Jaejoong a couple of times upon discovery of Yunho’s still-alive state, but Jaejoong knew exactly what words waited for him once he answered his phone. So he let it ring, allowed the call to go to voicemail and he may (or may not) listen to it a little later.
There’s this way of slipping folded bills of money and a packet of rat poison in a coffee shop without much people knowing. It was an art that required perfect timing and timid movements, inconspicuous glances and nods of thank yous to the acceptor of Jaejoong’s delivery.
The barista marks a line underneath the cup containing the poison since Jaejoong decided to order himself a cup as well. He had no idea what it was with Yunho and his faulty security because he somehow managed to blend into Yunho’s floor as one of the employees, the receptionist, too absorbed in her conversation on the phone to check for his ID or lack thereof.
Jaejoong’s arrival could not have been more precise as he was greeted by the emptiness of Yunho’s office. He leans on the door shut and strides calmly over to Yunho’s desk. He pops the lid of the cup open and plucks a Sharpee from the collection of pens on Yunho’s desk. He flips the lid in his hand and scribbles a little note on the inside,
You’re receptionist is just as much of a joke as your security. If you die today they are as responsible for your death as I am.
Once satisfied, he places the lid back on the coffee cup, clearly proud of himself and his wit. He decides to keep the Sharpee, tucking it in the pocket of his jeans before stepping out.
A day later, he chooses to finally answer one of Soonkyu’s frequent calls just because he was set on the fact that she was most likely going to thank him for having taken care of Yunho and making it painless. What he did not expect was-
“You’re at the peak of your week and my husband is still alive.” She grits her teeth over the phone. There’s faint grumbles of cars and honks somewhere in the background. She was probably calling from a telephone booth somewhere, too afraid to be traced.
“I’m taking my time.”
“That’s not what I’m paying you for.”
“I said I would take care of it and I will.” Jaejoong shuts his phone before she can muster a reply. So, Jung Yunho was still alive.
Jaejoong confirms this when he returns to Yunho’s office and finds him sitting calmly behind his desk, typing on his computer. He greets Jaejoong’s entrance with a smile, as if Jaejoong were an actual employee and not the same man who was sent by his own wife to kill him. Which he still was.
“I suppose you didn’t receive my gift then?” Jaejoong begins, ignoring Yunho’s offer for him to sit.
“You think my receptionist and security sucks. What makes you think my assistant is any better. She practically gulped the whole thing down when I wasn-which reminds me, you owe me a new assistant.” Yunho states in one breath, hands and eyes never leaving his computer. “Also, I want my Sharpee back!” Yunho shouts offhandedly when Jaejoong spins on his heel and stalks out of his office, infuriated, mildly amused and entirely confused about how this whole thing was blowing out of proportion.
“Fuck!” He runs a hand through his dark brown hair in evident nuisance, leaving the witnesses to assume that he was an actual employee there that just got fired.
~o~
The sniper-from-another-building was a cliché and Jaejoong wasn’t very fond of setting his stuff up and having to ask his grandmother to make use of her bathroom just so he could do so. But it was the perfect spot, directed opposite of Yunho’s window.
Yunho enters his office just in time, his back to Jaejoong when he descends into his chair. Yunho’s steady in his seat and Jaejoong’s tongue pokes out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on his target, one eye staring into the lens.
Jaejoong takes a deep breath, staring hard at Yunho’s head of hair via the lens and counts to three.
The trigger clicks back.
The bullet flies.
The clear window behind Yunho’s head meets the bullet’s blow, capturing it in a spider web-like bull’s eye. Jaejoong’s jaw hang loose, eye still on the lens. He sees Yunho turn around and inspect the bullet before straightening up and dipping one hand in his pocket. He uses the other to hold up four fingers blindly, unsure of my exact location. Then he carefully mouths the words hitman number as he shakes his hand.
Hitman number four.
Jaejoong sighs, defeated once again. His lips unexpectedly twitch into a smile, narrowing his eyes as he takes the sniper away from the window and stares at Yunho’s tiny form from within the expanse. He was so small in the distance and not as intimidating as he was when presented before you.
“Jaejoongie, are you done in there?” His grandmother’s voice reaches his ears from the other side of the bathroom door.
“Almost, halmeoni!” Jaejoong shouts back, coughing every once in a while in order to cover up the clicks of his sniper as he detaches each part and places them back in his bag. He flushes the toilet, eyes still on Yunho who had patently gone back to sitting on his desk, a new set of papers in his hands.
~o~
Yunho presses his remote, unlocking his car as he walked across the parking lot. He pulls the car door open, throwing his suitcase in the back seat first before stepping inside, and, sadly, the groan of pain following his suitcase toss was not lost on him.
He shuts the door, readjusts the rearview mirror, and pushes a few strands of hair that have fallen to his eyes before announcing, “Are you planning to strangle me from the backseat?”
“ You know,” Jaejoong pops up from the back seat, as expected, but Yunho still smiles at the sight via the rearview mirror. “I’m not exactly gay. But I’ve realized that we possibly have more chemistry than you and your wife. And I’m trying to kill you. That’s how devastating your marriage is.”
Yunho’s slipping out of his blazer, passing Jaejoong brief glances on their reflections . “How perceptive.”
“I’m serious. Why are you still with her?”
“You’re a hitman and a psychiatrist? That makes for one very interesting business card.”
Jaejoong rolls his eyes the way he usually does and stares out the window, gray walls all around them.
“Because I lied.” Yunho opens a few buttons of his collar as he fixed his gaze on Jaejoong’s profile, still focusing on the blankness of the parking lot outside. “She never hired anyone else to kill me. Just you. I followed her that night she met up with you and that’s how I knew I would run into you one of these days.”
“I…” Jaejoong begins, unsure. I’m sorry? But why? Of all the ruthless things he’s seen and done this was one misfortune he had no hand at. And to apologize for something so out of his grip would just make him seem vulnerable for all the wrong reasons.
Amazingly enough, even after Yunho’s whole spiel, he still had this regal air about him, even with is guard down and Jaejoong couldn’t comprehend how the car was seemingly smaller than before. He pulls his weight up to squeeze into the passenger seat, possibly jabbing Yunho in once in the eye and twice on the ribs.
He settles on the passenger seat, Yunho’s eyes on him as Jaejoong gingerly gives him a few customary pats on his shoulder, Jaejoong’s iffy stare directed at the dashboard. Yunho smiles at Jaejoong’s hand on his shoulder, knowing that if you dig past the awkward, this was essentially an act of placation.
Yunho’s hand unhurriedly travels to the side of Jaejoong’s chiseled face, fingers initially brushing against his jaw and Jaejoong all but jumps at the contact, his head spinning towards Yunho with widened, baffled eyes.
Yunho just stares back at him, almost shyly, but knowing Yunho that was all probably a part of his charm to lure Jaejoong in. Then his fingers move somewhere along Jaejoong’s nape. At this point Jaejoong’s lips part unknowingly, his own eyes tracing the angles of Yunho’s face, suddenly thinking how much of a waste his face would be had Jaejoong blown him up to shreds.
Then Yunho’s brows draw together, his hand falling from Jaejoong’s cheek. Yunho skirts his eyes over the inside of the car first before landing on a small contraption strapped in Jaejoong’s belt.
“Is that a bomb?”
Jaejoong drops his gaze to the cylindrical object, deadpanning. “It’s a stink bomb. I was running low on good ideas. But, oh, wait. Wanna throw this in your wife’s car instead?”
“She just got herself an Audi.”
“Exactly.”
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-- thank you to my best friend, rendzeedee for helping me with this fic.
i wrote this down in one go after hanging out with him from 12 am to like 3am?
so, yes, i apologize for the grammerrors and overloads of fail. ;__; another YUNJAE
fic. who knew i had it in me?