The Shadow Kissed Chapter Seven
Title: The Shadow Kissed
Author: insanityplays
Rating: R
Pairing: KRY (Kyuhyun/Ryeowook/Yesung), Kangteuk, Hanchul, Simin, Kihyuk, Yujae. More to be added as revealed.
Characters: Psychic!Ryeowook, Psycho!Kyuhyun, Cop!Yesung, rest of Super Junior + M, appearances by DBSK, SNSD, and f(x)
Summary: After a nightmare Kim Jongwoon forwent paying any special attention to, he’s placed on a cold case fourteen years old where the only witness is a soon to be twenty-three year old man locked away in a mental “hospital” owned by the same people suspected for the murder/arson case of the Cho Family. Boring re-investigation aside, Jongwoon finds himself thrust into living his nightmare - only this time, it isn’t a dream.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Warning: Includes, or will include, Angst, Drama, Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Action, and Mystery. Also includes, or will include, paranormal activity, ghosts, attempted murder and murder.
Here we go again~ Chapter Seven. This one’s dedicated to yuefeng and stripysockz . Spots for you at the bottom <3
Characters Updated.
THIS STORY IS ABANDONED AND WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. UPON REQUEST, I AM WILLING TO WRITE UP AN ADDITIONAL "CHAPTER" EXPLAINING THE REST OF THE STORYLINE AND HOW IT WAS MEANT TO END, BUT IT WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. The contents of this masterlist has been unlocked for those who still want to read the story; however, as I have already stated, it will not be updated at any point in its original capacity. Thank you for your interest and time.
- Chapter Seven -
Their footsteps echoed off the marble floor of the Psychiatric ward as they made their way inside, Ryeowook trailing a few steps behind the quick-stepped Yesung as he took in his surroundings, acutely aware of the wide eyed secretary sitting at the far desk of the little reception area they’d found themselves in.
The room around them was everything Ryeowook had thought it would be. Stacked in one corner were a couple of jigsaw puzzles, a box labeled Janga, and a tall plastic and wooden toy with red wooden balls, green triangles, and yellow squares on one side of what almost looked like a racing board, with looping red, green, and yellow plastic thin tubes the shapes were connected to that connected to the other side of the wooden contraption.
There were a few cushioned chairs here and there about the room, and a coffee table with magazines sitting on it, as well as a few pamphlets talking about the different kinds of mental diseases a child could have.
The walls were a stark, sterile white, trimmed in a nauseous, light green color on the top and bottom of the walls in a thick border, and the floors were black marble, glittering beneath the florescent lighting of the room.
It was everything a waiting room should like, everything a place where parents would want to take their children would look like, and Ryeowook smiled a grim smile to himself, aware of everything that would be on the other side of the door he could just see beyond the secretary’s desk.
From in front of him, Yesung turned to face him, dressed in an officers uniform, his gun obvious in his holster instead of hidden in the waist band of his pants, face grim as he motioned for him to hurry up and catch up to him. Ryeowook lengthened his strides and did just that.
Pulling out his badge, Yesung flashed it at the gawking secretary without a word and moved past her, Ryeowook trailing a step behind him, letting him lead the way. The secretary reached out as if to stop Ryeowook, but he dodged her expertly manicured fingernails and hastened to catch up with Yesung again, catching the closing door before he could be left behind.
The hallway they moved into was short, with the same polished black marble floors as the reception area and the same sterile white walls with green trim. At the end of the short hallway were two security guards, both of which definitely didn’t lack muscle if he was reading the way their arms bulged beneath their uniforms right. He assumed the only thing he could about them.
They were muscle needed to force screaming, fighting patients into the depths of the Psychiatric ward.
Ryeowook had to wonder, based off the stories Yesung had told him about what went on inside, if the security guards were often involved with the beating of patients. He shivered at the thought, the image of burly men holding frightened patients down flashing through his mind. He wouldn’t be surprised, and he’d seen worse, but it made him sick inside none the less.
At the end of the small hallway, Yesung once again flashed his badge to the two men who moved aside to allow them passage through the door they’d been standing in front of. Ryeowook, however, only got one foot over the threshold before his arm was grabbed in a strong grip.
“Not you,” the man who’d grabbed onto his arm said quietly as Ryeowook struggled petulantly against him. Another hand gripped his arm, a little above where the first man was holding, and Yesung’s touch sent a quiet zing through his body.
“He’s with me,” Yesung said quietly as he stared down the first man, daring him to protest again.
With a huff, the man let him go, and Yesung’s hand moved down to grab hold of his, sending another pleasurable jolt through his body. Behind them, the click of the automatic door that only opened from the outside rang in their eyes, and just as quickly as his hand had been taken in the other’s grip, he was let go.
He fought the want to reach out and take the others palm again and instead focused on the new hallway they’d moved into. It was dark and sloped downwards slightly, giving off an ominous feel that was the exact opposite of the one the outside rooms had been giving off.
The walls on either side of them were stone with medieval style lamps propped up on either side, and the floor was stone as well. The air was frigid as they moved downwards, growing colder and colder the deeper they got, and Ryeowook shivered violently.
It was a feeling altogether different from the one Yesung’s spirit gave off. It assailed him, radiated through his feet and upwards to infect the rest of his body, seeping into the very marrow of his bones, making him ache. Nagging at the back of his mind, Ryeowook could feel the presence of more spirits, and knew that if he were to open his mind, he’d find them and the residue they’d left behind on these walls floating like memories through his mind.
He shuddered at the thought, shuddered at the cold that infused his body, and wondered if the passageway was as cold to Yesung as it was to him, was half tempted to reach out and ask him, but decided against it. It was a pointless question - Yesung wouldn’t understand what he meant. Either way, he guessed he was right.
The very knowledge of what laid ahead of them would make anyone cold to the bone.
Steadily, as the two moved farther down and farther within, Ryeowook realized just how deep they were getting, and with a mental shudder, he gave the ward a name that better fit its purpose.
It was an asylum, a place where those deemed unfit to live in society were imprisoned and punished for something they had no control over. It was a place Ryeowook knew he would be if society still didn’t accept psychics, and if his father hadn’t been afraid of their home town knowing his son had been born blessed by the Devil.
The thoughts were knocked out of his head seconds later as he was bodily forced up against the wall furthest from Yesung, and he let out a little gasp of surprise at the feel of something cold and hard and very much there pushing tightly against him, even as his eyes couldn’t make out the shape, the size, the features of that force.
If he hadn’t been able to very clearly see Yesung a little ways in front of him, he might have thought it was him somehow, but the feeling of his airway being cut off had his thoughts scattering just as quickly as they’d come and his hands came up to scratch and grab and pry away an invisible hold, gasping as he flailed, as his feet kicked out, touching nothing, as his hands grabbed, reaching nothing.
Yesung was in front of him in seconds, and Ryeowook’s mind barely registered the shout of his name as he blinked back white spots in his vision, feeling the hold tighten, and then, just as quickly as it’d been there, it was gone, and Ryeowook was willing to bet anything it’d been Yesung’s presence that had forced it away as he slumped back against the wall, gasping for breath, one hand clutching at his rapidly beating heart.
Nausea curled warm and full in his stomach, and he could feel bile burn up his esophagus as he considered the fact that he’d almost died, again, and his hands came up to grab onto Yesung’s shirt as the older man stood in front him, steadying him, staring cautiously into his face.
Three days, three days and Yesung’s spirit was already this strong. It scared the shit out of him, and he shook his head to clear it, even as it left him dizzy again. One of Yesung’s hands came up to his face then, taking his chin between thumb and forefinger and lifting Ryeowook’s face to his until they were eye to eye.
“Are you okay?” he asked in that husky voice of his, and Ryeowook thought he might melt right there, but he pulled himself together and pushed away from the wall and Yesung’s steadying grip to stand on his own two wobbly feet, trying to put some distance between himself and Yesung, trying to get back to business again because there was no way he was addressing the issue of nearly being killed by a spirit, down here of all places, and there was no way he was even going to consider facing the way his heart pounded in the face of Yesung’s concern for him, or the way he wanted to melt right into his firm hold.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, as he staggered into the far wall, propping himself up on it with a hand. Yesung’s arm curled around his waist, and if he could have, he would have pulled away, only he needed another moment to pull himself together.
“This doesn’t look like “okay” to me Ryeowook,” he growled, curling his arm tighter, more protectively, around his waist. Ryeowook hefted a deep breath and turned to glare at Yesung as he extracted himself from his hold.
“I said I was okay! We might have had sex together but that doesn’t mean you can go around babying me like some child! I’m fine!” he spat, leveling his gaze with Yesung’s. “Let it go.”
It was quiet for a minute as they stared each other down, Yesung’s hands curling into fists by his sides, Ryeowook’s breathing heavy as he still attempted to find equilibrium within his own body, and then Yesung wrenched his gaze away and continued to move down the passageway.
“Fine. I’ll let it go…for now,” and there was enough threat there that Ryeowook knew Yesung wasn’t going to forget, wasn’t going to just let it go, and he tried to ignore the way heat curled deep and satisfying in his stomach right along side the fading nausea.
--
Yesung was angry. More than angry even. He was pissed off, and tempted to just grab Ryeowook’s wrist and throw him up against a wall, press his body right up against those sharp angles and planes of his arms and legs and abdomen, and kiss him hard on the lips if it would only make him see sense, see that he cared about him as more than just a round of drunken sex, even if kissing him might not be the best way to go about proving that.
He knew it was irrational, the idea that he cared for this man he’d only known for three days as much as he did, but he was drawn to that body, to that face and those lips and the intelligence and the pain that all but leaked from every veneer of his countenance, of the way he held himself against the world, and he couldn’t help it in the least.
He wanted to say it was nothing but sexual attraction and lust, but it was more, and it was bordering on making him insane. Ryeowook was quickly becoming someone in his inner circle, faster than most people did, and he wanted to protect him from whatever had just happened, from the men who wanted to kill him, and if he really thought about it, maybe that meant protecting him from himself as well.
He had to shake his head against the thought, hoping against hope that it hadn’t been what Ryeowook had warned him of. That it wasn’t whatever spirit that was on him that had hurt Ryeowook - but there was no other explanation, and he couldn’t lie to himself. He knew that. He absolutely knew that, and he wouldn’t deny it.
Even if his thoughts shied away from what that might mean - putting distance between himself and this man who was more hurt on the inside than he let on, cutting off any possibility of getting to know him better, of learning what secrets he had to hide…of doing something that might just make him happy.
They were irrational wants, but they were what he felt, and he sighed. It seemed his entire life had been flipped upside down in four days. All it’d taken was one dream, and now…all of this.
He hadn’t even been thinking about dating, about settling down with some women and having pretty babies, and now he wanted something more with a man he’d only known for three days? He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to get back to business as they entered a little lobby like area that served as a break room.
Maybe, if he hadn’t been so distracted, he would have noticed when Sungmin stood up from the table in the far corner and started to head over, would have noticed how Ryeowook tensed behind him, and maybe it wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to him when Sungmin stepped up in front of him, his face made up of layers of black and blue.
Yesung’s eyes went wide and he felt his body tremble when he took in the markings creased across Sungmin’s face, when he imagined what would be under those clothes, how many broken bones he might have, how many broken ribs.
A little snarl ripped from his throat before he could stop it, and he reached out with one hand to stroke fingers across a bruised cheek. Sungmin flinched back, and Yesung saw the pain in his eyes, the slight fear, and dropped his hand even as the other forced false cheer on his face.
Under one eye, a long cut streaked diagonally downwards over the molted bruising of one cheek, and the other eye was half ringed in black and blue, partially shut, an oozing sore underneath. The rest of his eye was ringed red; a fierce, angry red.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he hissed and cringed when his words made Sungmin flinch again, worked on calming his anger, his worry, so his next words would be gentler. “Are you alright?” It was said softer, quieter, but no less urgent, and did a poor job of hiding his anger.
Sungmin didn’t flinch back this time, but his lips pushed up in the fakest cheery grin he’d ever had to look at. “You know how the patients can get,” he said casually, lifting a hand to wave it off. “Especially when you’ve got a patient like mine,” he forced out a chuckle - it came out harsh and strained. Yesung’s hands fisted at his side.
“The patients didn’t do this to you,” he growled under his breath, aware of the show Sungmin was putting on. He forced his eyes away from the damage done to the man standing in front of him, and searched the room for the boss. He found the man in the far corner, at the table he belatedly realized Sungmin had come form.
He leveled the man a dark glare, one he knew the other would understand. I know it was you. The man only smiled back, but Yesung was confident he’d received the message.
“The patient?” Yesung asked in short order, voice clipped and loud enough everyone in the quiet room could hear it, cold enough that it seemed his last thought was to get involved in the underhanded things going on in this ward. At least where it didn’t concern the patients.
Sungmin turned his back on him, ushered both him and Ryeowook to follow him down one of three corridors, and he saw out of the corner of his eye the boss gesture at a man to follow after them.
He grinned when he saw the man’s face. Siwon.
--
They moved as a unit down one of three corridors, an unfamiliar man in their midst’s wearing a security guards uniform, with a hard, blank look on his face that made him look like nothing so much as stone. Ryeowook almost didn’t think anything could faze the man, with that blank stare and those cold eyes, but he had no inside thoughts on him, didn’t know him, and was wary as they made it to the end of the hallway and turned into another.
And then the mans face softened, the taut lines of his body relaxed, and he realized the man couldn’t be a threat as he moved quickly to Sungmin’s side to hold him steady as they walked, pulling him close and holding up what looked like most of his weight.
All the while, Ryeowook felt as if he’d been axed. He just couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
Sungmin. Lee Sungmin. His best friend. Working in a place like this.
Beaten to a bloody pulp if his face was any indication of the way the rest of his body looked.
And Ryeowook wanted to get up and beat the shit out of whoever had done it to him too, wanted to take his boss by the throat and strangle him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides as he waited to be far away, far enough away that he could take his best friend into his arms and give up the whole charade of not caring about a man who the boss didn’t know they knew, really knew.
The made another turn before Sungmin collapsed against the man holding him up, and Ryeowook pushed Yesung out of the way even as he moved to help.
Sungmin was in his arms in seconds, pressed tightly against him even when he was afraid it would hurt him, and Sungmin curled into him, against him, held him just as tightly in his arms.
“Thank God you’re alright, thank God,” he heard Sungmin whisper, and his brow furrowed, his mouth opened, but before he could even get the words out, Sungmin was beginning to pull away. “I was so worried, so fucking worried! You bastard, why didn’t you call!” he hissed, slamming his fists into Ryeowook’s chest with all his strength, strength that came no where near what the older male held on a normal day, but was still steady, hard.
Then he sagged again, back into the uniform’s hold, the hold of the man who’d been keeping him standing as they walked down the last few hallways, and yet even as he panted in exertion, he managed to hold his glare.
“I thought I was going to die before I could even check on you! You promised, you promised you’d call me when you got back! I’m the only family you’ve got, and you left me hanging!” Sungmin growled, growing furious as he propelled himself from the uniform’s hold again to return to his assault.
Ryeowook didn’t fight back, the idea of Sungmin nearly dying hitting him hard, stunning him, making him wonder why he’d given so little thought to even three seconds of conversation to make sure his best friend, his family, was okay? He laughed as Sungmin continued to throw punches, feeling giddy, buoyant - they’d both escaped death in the last few days - even as the tears fell, and when Sungmin collapsed again, this time he caught him, pulling him tight against him once more, felt Sungmin sag in relief, felt the tension in his muscles release.
“Don’t do that to me again,” he said softly, and held Ryeowook back just as tightly as the other did him. Ryeowook felt tears hit his shoulder, his shirt, and drew Sungmin tighter to him.
The uniform cleared his throat and Ryeowook lifted his eyes to look at him, saw the concern written all over his face, and relaxed his hold on Sungmin, released him and allowed the other man to bundle him close to his chest with such care in his features, in the way that he held Sungmin close, that it made Ryeowook’s heart warm to see it.
He heard Sungmin’s little moan as the man rubbed tight circles into his back, massaging the bruised skin, the aching muscles, the way a lover would, and Ryeowook could only be glad his best friend had finally found someone he could truly rely on. Ryeowook knew he wasn’t around nearly enough.
Finally, finally, he asked, “What happened, Sungmin?” in a soft voice, and the story came tumbling off of soft lips in seconds, almost like he’d been holding back the words, and now the damn was open and it wasn’t going to stop until the whole story was out.
He told them about his boss, about being sent to Jungmin’s office and what he’d found there. He told them how Siwon had been forced to take him down, beat him until he was spilling everything he knew, all the while protecting his cover, preserving what they were all trying to do even as he was forced to do what he was hoping to stop from continuing. Ryeowook found his head swimming as Sungmin promised he hadn’t given in, hadn’t spilled anything, and all Ryeowook could think was that it’d nearly cost him his life.
He felt the pride well up in him, even as he felt nausea curl thick in his stomach, just like before.
And if it weren’t for the protective way Siwon was holding Sungmin, the way his eyes went all soft with concern every time Sungmin so much as flinched, Ryeowook would have been tempted to rip Sungmin out of his hold and shield him from him, maybe throttle him the way he’d imagined throttling Sungmin’s boss.
“Leejing and Changin, he sent them down to take over my duty,” Sungmin said in a quiet voice after a short pause, “It was dinner time, I was supposed to feed Kyuhyun… Yesung I’m sorry, they got in there. They went in there, and I couldn’t protect him,” he said in a sad voice, soft brown eyes meeting Yesung’s even as his voice trembled in anger and fear and pain all at once.
Ryeowook turned and saw anger in the man’s features, but there was a tenderness there as well, I need to protect and care for. Concern. He tried to ignore that part of him that suddenly hoped Kyuhyun looked as bad as Sungmin, or worse.
Jealousy…
“Take us to him,” were the next hard words out of Yesung’s mouth, cold and demanding as his eyes pierced Sungmin’s. Siwon glared at him, moved as if to shield Sungmin, and Yesung shook himself, placing a hand to his forehead. “Please…”
“Siwon, its okay… can you…will you help me? Again?” Sungmin asked quietly, tugging on Siwon’s sleeve as he asked for the support Ryeowook wished he was able to give.
But he wasn’t stupid. He could see the feelings in those eyes, knew what Siwon was to his best friend, and wondered, wondered why it was that his best friend could love someone who’d beaten the shit out of him to save his own neck when Ryeowook couldn’t even begin to think of the elusive feeling he hadn’t even been able to find in his own father.
Ryeowook resumed his position behind Yesung as they started off again, watching the stiff way he walked as he followed after Siwon and Sungmin, the pace they set slow, but faster than maybe it should have been as they seemed to sense Yesung’s anxiety, and probably understood it better than Ryeowook did as well.
Concern for people he didn’t even know…Ryeowook didn’t understand this man.
They only turned down one more corridor after that, but that was when Ryeowook really took in what he was seeing. On either side of the last three hallways, he realized there had been five doors each, and he did the mental math: thirty rooms. That made for thirty cells for thirty prisoners, and he was almost willing to bet at least one of the other two corridors held another thirty cells. Perhaps the last corridor led to the kitchens, but either way, that made for a total of sixty available cells.
He wondered how many were filled, how many patients were stuck in these jails.
They stopped mid-way down the last corridor with a dead end and a large window whose curtains flapped ominously about it with the warm spring air of the day, even as the sun had a hard time shining through, and Yesung immediately turned to one of the closest doors, moving towards it with a single minded determination. He reached out to slide open a little grate that Ryeowook almost hadn’t seen, and looked inside.
Whatever he saw made him flinch away, made the contours of his jaw harden, and Ryeowook pushed him aside, took a look for himself, and found that somehow, it was both worse and better than he’d imagined it would be.
There was shit every where, an upturned chamber pot in the far corner of the room, looking for all the world misplaced, and a cot sat in the middle of it all, ripped to pieces. Besides the shredded remains of the cot sat the man he was supposed to be helping save. Cho Kyuhyun, with his curly red-brown hair and an almost senseless smirk on his face as he started at a wall oblivious to the mess around him, head bobbing senselessly as if he were in a trance.
There was only one window in the room, and it was small, but it let in some of the early morning light, and enough of it that in the center of the room, Ryeowook could clearly see the scratches, the bruises that marred too pale skin.
It was nothing like Sungmin, but somehow it was so much worse.
He could imagine, from the explanations of Kyuhyun’s status as most violent, what the two men who’d been in here looked like. They’d driven a mad man to do worse, made a mockery out of the only home he knew, and took from him every shred of dignity he might have. It wasn’t enough that he’d been forced to watch the murder of his family with front row seats?
“I want to talk to him,” Ryeowook said, and Yesung’s head swung to face him, eyes impossibly wide.
“What?”
--
He wasn’t alone when he entered the room. It wasn’t just him and Kyuhyun. Yesung was there, standing ever so slightly in front of him, like a shield, and Sungmin with the ever supportive Siwon holding his arm, keeping him steady on his feet.
He hadn’t expected to be alone, but still, he could have hoped. It seemed almost a private matter to talk to the man before him.
Kyuhyun looked up when they entered, ceasing all movement save for the turn of his head, and he turned impossibly sad eyes on Sungmin and Siwon first, taking in Sungmin’s appearance with a speculative, confused look, almost relieved at the same time as worried.
Even in the dim lighting, it wasn’t hard to make out what Sungmin looked like, and Kyuhyun’s eyes were more accustomed to the dark than theirs were. The show of compassion on Kyuhyun’s face told Ryeowook more about the relationship between caretaker and patient than Sungmin himself could have told him.
Sungmin gave Kyuhyun a tentative smile, but Kyuhyun continued to gaze at him, brows furrowed in what almost seemed frustration, before he finally looked away, adopting a cool look on his face.
His eyes landed on Yesung, and they were level as he cocked his head, an amused smile touching his lips as he took in the man’s appearance. His smile turned into the smirk that had all but disappeared in the face of Sungmin’s pain, his eyes mocking, but both changed to confusion, a wariness even, when he saw in Yesung’s eyes what Ryeowook had seen there before.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he seemed to back away slightly, the allusion in the way he arched his neck away, and then his eyes grew unfocused, as if he were listening to something no one else could hear.
His face went blank, but Ryeowook saw the flash of anger, disbelief, even before they were gone, and his body relaxed as he let his smile drift back onto his face.
Then he turned to Ryeowook.
Their eyes locked and it was like being doused in water as a gasp left Ryeowook’s lips and a loud pounding began in his ears. A shiver ran up his spine and moved through the rest of his body, and the blood in his veins seemed to ice over.
And then something was racing at him.
He could feel it coming, could almost see it as it rushed at him, toward him. He braced himself for it, felt it collide with him, hard, and knock him back a step, and all the while his eyes remained deadlocked with Kyuhyun’s - the eye of the storm, the calm in the tempest, so old, and Ryeowook could practically feel the pain that seeped from them.
The force pushed him, Kyuhyun’s eyes drew him, and he pushed past Yesung, moved towards Kyuhyun with a single minded determination, almost unaware of his own movements, of the room around him.
Kyuhyun held his ground, but his eyes were wary.
And then there was a voice in his ear.
My boy…my boy. You take care of my boy…We’ve been waiting for you…for both of you. We knew you would come, we knew you would save him…
The words made Ryeowook gasp and he jerked his head sideways, his ear cold where the touch of lips seemed to have flushed past. Beside him, for only a moment, he watched as Kyuhyun’s mother chased after the four year old boy in the yard of their once beautiful home, her laugh echoing in his ears…
And then she was gone.
His gaze lingered on the darkened stone wall the image seemed to have disappeared through before he turned back to Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun whose face was suddenly scrunched up in anxious trepidation.
Ryeowook drowned in his brown eyes, searching, searching, before he finally looked away.
Beyond the seeming insanity and pain, there was something else. Something deeper and hard to find.
Something no one had known for fourteen years.
“He’s not crazy,” he said finally, quietly, and there was a stunned silence as Ryeowook made to turn around, to leave his back exposed to the man everyone feared.
And then Kyuhyun was coming at him with a snarl, his hands extended like claws, his mouth open in a howl of rage, of fear, and there was panic in those eyes as he lunged, as he moved to protect himself and all the lies he’d so carefully built.
Ryeowook didn’t even have time to fear, Siwon was there so quick, holding him, restraining him, even as he continued to howl in rage and struggle and shake his head against a voice Ryeowook knew was there, glaring at him as if he’d ruined everything, and Ryeowook…Ryeowook couldn’t even think to move.
--
Masterlist/Character Information
Author: insanityplays
Rating: R
Pairing: KRY (Kyuhyun/Ryeowook/Yesung), Kangteuk, Hanchul, Simin, Kihyuk, Yujae. More to be added as revealed.
Characters: Psychic!Ryeowook, Psycho!Kyuhyun, Cop!Yesung, rest of Super Junior + M, appearances by DBSK, SNSD, and f(x)
Summary: After a nightmare Kim Jongwoon forwent paying any special attention to, he’s placed on a cold case fourteen years old where the only witness is a soon to be twenty-three year old man locked away in a mental “hospital” owned by the same people suspected for the murder/arson case of the Cho Family. Boring re-investigation aside, Jongwoon finds himself thrust into living his nightmare - only this time, it isn’t a dream.
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Warning: Includes, or will include, Angst, Drama, Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Action, and Mystery. Also includes, or will include, paranormal activity, ghosts, attempted murder and murder.
Here we go again~ Chapter Seven. This one’s dedicated to yuefeng and stripysockz . Spots for you at the bottom <3
Characters Updated.
THIS STORY IS ABANDONED AND WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. UPON REQUEST, I AM WILLING TO WRITE UP AN ADDITIONAL "CHAPTER" EXPLAINING THE REST OF THE STORYLINE AND HOW IT WAS MEANT TO END, BUT IT WILL NOT BE COMPLETED. The contents of this masterlist has been unlocked for those who still want to read the story; however, as I have already stated, it will not be updated at any point in its original capacity. Thank you for your interest and time.
- Chapter Seven -
Their footsteps echoed off the marble floor of the Psychiatric ward as they made their way inside, Ryeowook trailing a few steps behind the quick-stepped Yesung as he took in his surroundings, acutely aware of the wide eyed secretary sitting at the far desk of the little reception area they’d found themselves in.
The room around them was everything Ryeowook had thought it would be. Stacked in one corner were a couple of jigsaw puzzles, a box labeled Janga, and a tall plastic and wooden toy with red wooden balls, green triangles, and yellow squares on one side of what almost looked like a racing board, with looping red, green, and yellow plastic thin tubes the shapes were connected to that connected to the other side of the wooden contraption.
There were a few cushioned chairs here and there about the room, and a coffee table with magazines sitting on it, as well as a few pamphlets talking about the different kinds of mental diseases a child could have.
The walls were a stark, sterile white, trimmed in a nauseous, light green color on the top and bottom of the walls in a thick border, and the floors were black marble, glittering beneath the florescent lighting of the room.
It was everything a waiting room should like, everything a place where parents would want to take their children would look like, and Ryeowook smiled a grim smile to himself, aware of everything that would be on the other side of the door he could just see beyond the secretary’s desk.
From in front of him, Yesung turned to face him, dressed in an officers uniform, his gun obvious in his holster instead of hidden in the waist band of his pants, face grim as he motioned for him to hurry up and catch up to him. Ryeowook lengthened his strides and did just that.
Pulling out his badge, Yesung flashed it at the gawking secretary without a word and moved past her, Ryeowook trailing a step behind him, letting him lead the way. The secretary reached out as if to stop Ryeowook, but he dodged her expertly manicured fingernails and hastened to catch up with Yesung again, catching the closing door before he could be left behind.
The hallway they moved into was short, with the same polished black marble floors as the reception area and the same sterile white walls with green trim. At the end of the short hallway were two security guards, both of which definitely didn’t lack muscle if he was reading the way their arms bulged beneath their uniforms right. He assumed the only thing he could about them.
They were muscle needed to force screaming, fighting patients into the depths of the Psychiatric ward.
Ryeowook had to wonder, based off the stories Yesung had told him about what went on inside, if the security guards were often involved with the beating of patients. He shivered at the thought, the image of burly men holding frightened patients down flashing through his mind. He wouldn’t be surprised, and he’d seen worse, but it made him sick inside none the less.
At the end of the small hallway, Yesung once again flashed his badge to the two men who moved aside to allow them passage through the door they’d been standing in front of. Ryeowook, however, only got one foot over the threshold before his arm was grabbed in a strong grip.
“Not you,” the man who’d grabbed onto his arm said quietly as Ryeowook struggled petulantly against him. Another hand gripped his arm, a little above where the first man was holding, and Yesung’s touch sent a quiet zing through his body.
“He’s with me,” Yesung said quietly as he stared down the first man, daring him to protest again.
With a huff, the man let him go, and Yesung’s hand moved down to grab hold of his, sending another pleasurable jolt through his body. Behind them, the click of the automatic door that only opened from the outside rang in their eyes, and just as quickly as his hand had been taken in the other’s grip, he was let go.
He fought the want to reach out and take the others palm again and instead focused on the new hallway they’d moved into. It was dark and sloped downwards slightly, giving off an ominous feel that was the exact opposite of the one the outside rooms had been giving off.
The walls on either side of them were stone with medieval style lamps propped up on either side, and the floor was stone as well. The air was frigid as they moved downwards, growing colder and colder the deeper they got, and Ryeowook shivered violently.
It was a feeling altogether different from the one Yesung’s spirit gave off. It assailed him, radiated through his feet and upwards to infect the rest of his body, seeping into the very marrow of his bones, making him ache. Nagging at the back of his mind, Ryeowook could feel the presence of more spirits, and knew that if he were to open his mind, he’d find them and the residue they’d left behind on these walls floating like memories through his mind.
He shuddered at the thought, shuddered at the cold that infused his body, and wondered if the passageway was as cold to Yesung as it was to him, was half tempted to reach out and ask him, but decided against it. It was a pointless question - Yesung wouldn’t understand what he meant. Either way, he guessed he was right.
The very knowledge of what laid ahead of them would make anyone cold to the bone.
Steadily, as the two moved farther down and farther within, Ryeowook realized just how deep they were getting, and with a mental shudder, he gave the ward a name that better fit its purpose.
It was an asylum, a place where those deemed unfit to live in society were imprisoned and punished for something they had no control over. It was a place Ryeowook knew he would be if society still didn’t accept psychics, and if his father hadn’t been afraid of their home town knowing his son had been born blessed by the Devil.
The thoughts were knocked out of his head seconds later as he was bodily forced up against the wall furthest from Yesung, and he let out a little gasp of surprise at the feel of something cold and hard and very much there pushing tightly against him, even as his eyes couldn’t make out the shape, the size, the features of that force.
If he hadn’t been able to very clearly see Yesung a little ways in front of him, he might have thought it was him somehow, but the feeling of his airway being cut off had his thoughts scattering just as quickly as they’d come and his hands came up to scratch and grab and pry away an invisible hold, gasping as he flailed, as his feet kicked out, touching nothing, as his hands grabbed, reaching nothing.
Yesung was in front of him in seconds, and Ryeowook’s mind barely registered the shout of his name as he blinked back white spots in his vision, feeling the hold tighten, and then, just as quickly as it’d been there, it was gone, and Ryeowook was willing to bet anything it’d been Yesung’s presence that had forced it away as he slumped back against the wall, gasping for breath, one hand clutching at his rapidly beating heart.
Nausea curled warm and full in his stomach, and he could feel bile burn up his esophagus as he considered the fact that he’d almost died, again, and his hands came up to grab onto Yesung’s shirt as the older man stood in front him, steadying him, staring cautiously into his face.
Three days, three days and Yesung’s spirit was already this strong. It scared the shit out of him, and he shook his head to clear it, even as it left him dizzy again. One of Yesung’s hands came up to his face then, taking his chin between thumb and forefinger and lifting Ryeowook’s face to his until they were eye to eye.
“Are you okay?” he asked in that husky voice of his, and Ryeowook thought he might melt right there, but he pulled himself together and pushed away from the wall and Yesung’s steadying grip to stand on his own two wobbly feet, trying to put some distance between himself and Yesung, trying to get back to business again because there was no way he was addressing the issue of nearly being killed by a spirit, down here of all places, and there was no way he was even going to consider facing the way his heart pounded in the face of Yesung’s concern for him, or the way he wanted to melt right into his firm hold.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, as he staggered into the far wall, propping himself up on it with a hand. Yesung’s arm curled around his waist, and if he could have, he would have pulled away, only he needed another moment to pull himself together.
“This doesn’t look like “okay” to me Ryeowook,” he growled, curling his arm tighter, more protectively, around his waist. Ryeowook hefted a deep breath and turned to glare at Yesung as he extracted himself from his hold.
“I said I was okay! We might have had sex together but that doesn’t mean you can go around babying me like some child! I’m fine!” he spat, leveling his gaze with Yesung’s. “Let it go.”
It was quiet for a minute as they stared each other down, Yesung’s hands curling into fists by his sides, Ryeowook’s breathing heavy as he still attempted to find equilibrium within his own body, and then Yesung wrenched his gaze away and continued to move down the passageway.
“Fine. I’ll let it go…for now,” and there was enough threat there that Ryeowook knew Yesung wasn’t going to forget, wasn’t going to just let it go, and he tried to ignore the way heat curled deep and satisfying in his stomach right along side the fading nausea.
--
Yesung was angry. More than angry even. He was pissed off, and tempted to just grab Ryeowook’s wrist and throw him up against a wall, press his body right up against those sharp angles and planes of his arms and legs and abdomen, and kiss him hard on the lips if it would only make him see sense, see that he cared about him as more than just a round of drunken sex, even if kissing him might not be the best way to go about proving that.
He knew it was irrational, the idea that he cared for this man he’d only known for three days as much as he did, but he was drawn to that body, to that face and those lips and the intelligence and the pain that all but leaked from every veneer of his countenance, of the way he held himself against the world, and he couldn’t help it in the least.
He wanted to say it was nothing but sexual attraction and lust, but it was more, and it was bordering on making him insane. Ryeowook was quickly becoming someone in his inner circle, faster than most people did, and he wanted to protect him from whatever had just happened, from the men who wanted to kill him, and if he really thought about it, maybe that meant protecting him from himself as well.
He had to shake his head against the thought, hoping against hope that it hadn’t been what Ryeowook had warned him of. That it wasn’t whatever spirit that was on him that had hurt Ryeowook - but there was no other explanation, and he couldn’t lie to himself. He knew that. He absolutely knew that, and he wouldn’t deny it.
Even if his thoughts shied away from what that might mean - putting distance between himself and this man who was more hurt on the inside than he let on, cutting off any possibility of getting to know him better, of learning what secrets he had to hide…of doing something that might just make him happy.
They were irrational wants, but they were what he felt, and he sighed. It seemed his entire life had been flipped upside down in four days. All it’d taken was one dream, and now…all of this.
He hadn’t even been thinking about dating, about settling down with some women and having pretty babies, and now he wanted something more with a man he’d only known for three days? He shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to get back to business as they entered a little lobby like area that served as a break room.
Maybe, if he hadn’t been so distracted, he would have noticed when Sungmin stood up from the table in the far corner and started to head over, would have noticed how Ryeowook tensed behind him, and maybe it wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to him when Sungmin stepped up in front of him, his face made up of layers of black and blue.
Yesung’s eyes went wide and he felt his body tremble when he took in the markings creased across Sungmin’s face, when he imagined what would be under those clothes, how many broken bones he might have, how many broken ribs.
A little snarl ripped from his throat before he could stop it, and he reached out with one hand to stroke fingers across a bruised cheek. Sungmin flinched back, and Yesung saw the pain in his eyes, the slight fear, and dropped his hand even as the other forced false cheer on his face.
Under one eye, a long cut streaked diagonally downwards over the molted bruising of one cheek, and the other eye was half ringed in black and blue, partially shut, an oozing sore underneath. The rest of his eye was ringed red; a fierce, angry red.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he hissed and cringed when his words made Sungmin flinch again, worked on calming his anger, his worry, so his next words would be gentler. “Are you alright?” It was said softer, quieter, but no less urgent, and did a poor job of hiding his anger.
Sungmin didn’t flinch back this time, but his lips pushed up in the fakest cheery grin he’d ever had to look at. “You know how the patients can get,” he said casually, lifting a hand to wave it off. “Especially when you’ve got a patient like mine,” he forced out a chuckle - it came out harsh and strained. Yesung’s hands fisted at his side.
“The patients didn’t do this to you,” he growled under his breath, aware of the show Sungmin was putting on. He forced his eyes away from the damage done to the man standing in front of him, and searched the room for the boss. He found the man in the far corner, at the table he belatedly realized Sungmin had come form.
He leveled the man a dark glare, one he knew the other would understand. I know it was you. The man only smiled back, but Yesung was confident he’d received the message.
“The patient?” Yesung asked in short order, voice clipped and loud enough everyone in the quiet room could hear it, cold enough that it seemed his last thought was to get involved in the underhanded things going on in this ward. At least where it didn’t concern the patients.
Sungmin turned his back on him, ushered both him and Ryeowook to follow him down one of three corridors, and he saw out of the corner of his eye the boss gesture at a man to follow after them.
He grinned when he saw the man’s face. Siwon.
--
They moved as a unit down one of three corridors, an unfamiliar man in their midst’s wearing a security guards uniform, with a hard, blank look on his face that made him look like nothing so much as stone. Ryeowook almost didn’t think anything could faze the man, with that blank stare and those cold eyes, but he had no inside thoughts on him, didn’t know him, and was wary as they made it to the end of the hallway and turned into another.
And then the mans face softened, the taut lines of his body relaxed, and he realized the man couldn’t be a threat as he moved quickly to Sungmin’s side to hold him steady as they walked, pulling him close and holding up what looked like most of his weight.
All the while, Ryeowook felt as if he’d been axed. He just couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
Sungmin. Lee Sungmin. His best friend. Working in a place like this.
Beaten to a bloody pulp if his face was any indication of the way the rest of his body looked.
And Ryeowook wanted to get up and beat the shit out of whoever had done it to him too, wanted to take his boss by the throat and strangle him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides as he waited to be far away, far enough away that he could take his best friend into his arms and give up the whole charade of not caring about a man who the boss didn’t know they knew, really knew.
The made another turn before Sungmin collapsed against the man holding him up, and Ryeowook pushed Yesung out of the way even as he moved to help.
Sungmin was in his arms in seconds, pressed tightly against him even when he was afraid it would hurt him, and Sungmin curled into him, against him, held him just as tightly in his arms.
“Thank God you’re alright, thank God,” he heard Sungmin whisper, and his brow furrowed, his mouth opened, but before he could even get the words out, Sungmin was beginning to pull away. “I was so worried, so fucking worried! You bastard, why didn’t you call!” he hissed, slamming his fists into Ryeowook’s chest with all his strength, strength that came no where near what the older male held on a normal day, but was still steady, hard.
Then he sagged again, back into the uniform’s hold, the hold of the man who’d been keeping him standing as they walked down the last few hallways, and yet even as he panted in exertion, he managed to hold his glare.
“I thought I was going to die before I could even check on you! You promised, you promised you’d call me when you got back! I’m the only family you’ve got, and you left me hanging!” Sungmin growled, growing furious as he propelled himself from the uniform’s hold again to return to his assault.
Ryeowook didn’t fight back, the idea of Sungmin nearly dying hitting him hard, stunning him, making him wonder why he’d given so little thought to even three seconds of conversation to make sure his best friend, his family, was okay? He laughed as Sungmin continued to throw punches, feeling giddy, buoyant - they’d both escaped death in the last few days - even as the tears fell, and when Sungmin collapsed again, this time he caught him, pulling him tight against him once more, felt Sungmin sag in relief, felt the tension in his muscles release.
“Don’t do that to me again,” he said softly, and held Ryeowook back just as tightly as the other did him. Ryeowook felt tears hit his shoulder, his shirt, and drew Sungmin tighter to him.
The uniform cleared his throat and Ryeowook lifted his eyes to look at him, saw the concern written all over his face, and relaxed his hold on Sungmin, released him and allowed the other man to bundle him close to his chest with such care in his features, in the way that he held Sungmin close, that it made Ryeowook’s heart warm to see it.
He heard Sungmin’s little moan as the man rubbed tight circles into his back, massaging the bruised skin, the aching muscles, the way a lover would, and Ryeowook could only be glad his best friend had finally found someone he could truly rely on. Ryeowook knew he wasn’t around nearly enough.
Finally, finally, he asked, “What happened, Sungmin?” in a soft voice, and the story came tumbling off of soft lips in seconds, almost like he’d been holding back the words, and now the damn was open and it wasn’t going to stop until the whole story was out.
He told them about his boss, about being sent to Jungmin’s office and what he’d found there. He told them how Siwon had been forced to take him down, beat him until he was spilling everything he knew, all the while protecting his cover, preserving what they were all trying to do even as he was forced to do what he was hoping to stop from continuing. Ryeowook found his head swimming as Sungmin promised he hadn’t given in, hadn’t spilled anything, and all Ryeowook could think was that it’d nearly cost him his life.
He felt the pride well up in him, even as he felt nausea curl thick in his stomach, just like before.
And if it weren’t for the protective way Siwon was holding Sungmin, the way his eyes went all soft with concern every time Sungmin so much as flinched, Ryeowook would have been tempted to rip Sungmin out of his hold and shield him from him, maybe throttle him the way he’d imagined throttling Sungmin’s boss.
“Leejing and Changin, he sent them down to take over my duty,” Sungmin said in a quiet voice after a short pause, “It was dinner time, I was supposed to feed Kyuhyun… Yesung I’m sorry, they got in there. They went in there, and I couldn’t protect him,” he said in a sad voice, soft brown eyes meeting Yesung’s even as his voice trembled in anger and fear and pain all at once.
Ryeowook turned and saw anger in the man’s features, but there was a tenderness there as well, I need to protect and care for. Concern. He tried to ignore that part of him that suddenly hoped Kyuhyun looked as bad as Sungmin, or worse.
Jealousy…
“Take us to him,” were the next hard words out of Yesung’s mouth, cold and demanding as his eyes pierced Sungmin’s. Siwon glared at him, moved as if to shield Sungmin, and Yesung shook himself, placing a hand to his forehead. “Please…”
“Siwon, its okay… can you…will you help me? Again?” Sungmin asked quietly, tugging on Siwon’s sleeve as he asked for the support Ryeowook wished he was able to give.
But he wasn’t stupid. He could see the feelings in those eyes, knew what Siwon was to his best friend, and wondered, wondered why it was that his best friend could love someone who’d beaten the shit out of him to save his own neck when Ryeowook couldn’t even begin to think of the elusive feeling he hadn’t even been able to find in his own father.
Ryeowook resumed his position behind Yesung as they started off again, watching the stiff way he walked as he followed after Siwon and Sungmin, the pace they set slow, but faster than maybe it should have been as they seemed to sense Yesung’s anxiety, and probably understood it better than Ryeowook did as well.
Concern for people he didn’t even know…Ryeowook didn’t understand this man.
They only turned down one more corridor after that, but that was when Ryeowook really took in what he was seeing. On either side of the last three hallways, he realized there had been five doors each, and he did the mental math: thirty rooms. That made for thirty cells for thirty prisoners, and he was almost willing to bet at least one of the other two corridors held another thirty cells. Perhaps the last corridor led to the kitchens, but either way, that made for a total of sixty available cells.
He wondered how many were filled, how many patients were stuck in these jails.
They stopped mid-way down the last corridor with a dead end and a large window whose curtains flapped ominously about it with the warm spring air of the day, even as the sun had a hard time shining through, and Yesung immediately turned to one of the closest doors, moving towards it with a single minded determination. He reached out to slide open a little grate that Ryeowook almost hadn’t seen, and looked inside.
Whatever he saw made him flinch away, made the contours of his jaw harden, and Ryeowook pushed him aside, took a look for himself, and found that somehow, it was both worse and better than he’d imagined it would be.
There was shit every where, an upturned chamber pot in the far corner of the room, looking for all the world misplaced, and a cot sat in the middle of it all, ripped to pieces. Besides the shredded remains of the cot sat the man he was supposed to be helping save. Cho Kyuhyun, with his curly red-brown hair and an almost senseless smirk on his face as he started at a wall oblivious to the mess around him, head bobbing senselessly as if he were in a trance.
There was only one window in the room, and it was small, but it let in some of the early morning light, and enough of it that in the center of the room, Ryeowook could clearly see the scratches, the bruises that marred too pale skin.
It was nothing like Sungmin, but somehow it was so much worse.
He could imagine, from the explanations of Kyuhyun’s status as most violent, what the two men who’d been in here looked like. They’d driven a mad man to do worse, made a mockery out of the only home he knew, and took from him every shred of dignity he might have. It wasn’t enough that he’d been forced to watch the murder of his family with front row seats?
“I want to talk to him,” Ryeowook said, and Yesung’s head swung to face him, eyes impossibly wide.
“What?”
--
He wasn’t alone when he entered the room. It wasn’t just him and Kyuhyun. Yesung was there, standing ever so slightly in front of him, like a shield, and Sungmin with the ever supportive Siwon holding his arm, keeping him steady on his feet.
He hadn’t expected to be alone, but still, he could have hoped. It seemed almost a private matter to talk to the man before him.
Kyuhyun looked up when they entered, ceasing all movement save for the turn of his head, and he turned impossibly sad eyes on Sungmin and Siwon first, taking in Sungmin’s appearance with a speculative, confused look, almost relieved at the same time as worried.
Even in the dim lighting, it wasn’t hard to make out what Sungmin looked like, and Kyuhyun’s eyes were more accustomed to the dark than theirs were. The show of compassion on Kyuhyun’s face told Ryeowook more about the relationship between caretaker and patient than Sungmin himself could have told him.
Sungmin gave Kyuhyun a tentative smile, but Kyuhyun continued to gaze at him, brows furrowed in what almost seemed frustration, before he finally looked away, adopting a cool look on his face.
His eyes landed on Yesung, and they were level as he cocked his head, an amused smile touching his lips as he took in the man’s appearance. His smile turned into the smirk that had all but disappeared in the face of Sungmin’s pain, his eyes mocking, but both changed to confusion, a wariness even, when he saw in Yesung’s eyes what Ryeowook had seen there before.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he seemed to back away slightly, the allusion in the way he arched his neck away, and then his eyes grew unfocused, as if he were listening to something no one else could hear.
His face went blank, but Ryeowook saw the flash of anger, disbelief, even before they were gone, and his body relaxed as he let his smile drift back onto his face.
Then he turned to Ryeowook.
Their eyes locked and it was like being doused in water as a gasp left Ryeowook’s lips and a loud pounding began in his ears. A shiver ran up his spine and moved through the rest of his body, and the blood in his veins seemed to ice over.
And then something was racing at him.
He could feel it coming, could almost see it as it rushed at him, toward him. He braced himself for it, felt it collide with him, hard, and knock him back a step, and all the while his eyes remained deadlocked with Kyuhyun’s - the eye of the storm, the calm in the tempest, so old, and Ryeowook could practically feel the pain that seeped from them.
The force pushed him, Kyuhyun’s eyes drew him, and he pushed past Yesung, moved towards Kyuhyun with a single minded determination, almost unaware of his own movements, of the room around him.
Kyuhyun held his ground, but his eyes were wary.
And then there was a voice in his ear.
My boy…my boy. You take care of my boy…We’ve been waiting for you…for both of you. We knew you would come, we knew you would save him…
The words made Ryeowook gasp and he jerked his head sideways, his ear cold where the touch of lips seemed to have flushed past. Beside him, for only a moment, he watched as Kyuhyun’s mother chased after the four year old boy in the yard of their once beautiful home, her laugh echoing in his ears…
And then she was gone.
His gaze lingered on the darkened stone wall the image seemed to have disappeared through before he turned back to Kyuhyun, Kyuhyun whose face was suddenly scrunched up in anxious trepidation.
Ryeowook drowned in his brown eyes, searching, searching, before he finally looked away.
Beyond the seeming insanity and pain, there was something else. Something deeper and hard to find.
Something no one had known for fourteen years.
“He’s not crazy,” he said finally, quietly, and there was a stunned silence as Ryeowook made to turn around, to leave his back exposed to the man everyone feared.
And then Kyuhyun was coming at him with a snarl, his hands extended like claws, his mouth open in a howl of rage, of fear, and there was panic in those eyes as he lunged, as he moved to protect himself and all the lies he’d so carefully built.
Ryeowook didn’t even have time to fear, Siwon was there so quick, holding him, restraining him, even as he continued to howl in rage and struggle and shake his head against a voice Ryeowook knew was there, glaring at him as if he’d ruined everything, and Ryeowook…Ryeowook couldn’t even think to move.
--
Masterlist/Character Information