Title: Past, Present, Future
Chapter: 1/?
Band: Super Junior M
Pairings: Kyuhyun / Zhou Mi
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Vague mention of sexual activity (no detail... at all),
Summary: A man trying to erase his past; another trying to remember his own.
Comment: I got inspiration when my mom and I were watching something on sex trafficking... Not the best way to get a muse, but I got one none-the-less. Hopefully I'll actually finish this as an actually story instead of putting this on hiatus and then discontinued, I just need a lot of push and shove to get this done! By the way, I have no beta! So first, if there are any mistakes, forgive me; second, if anyone wants to beta for me *waggles eyebrows* it will be very appreciated :) Oh, by the way, Joomyuk is Zhou Mi's Korean name. O:
Anyway, this story has a possibility of being rather graphic in the future, but no deep descriptions for now!
-&&&&&&Past, Present, Future&&&&&&-
I first see him in a luxurious box and in some sort of a terrorizing sleep, sweating uncontrollably, his brows creasing together and incredibly heavy breathing. I look at the one who had rolled in the box, the delivery man, and he looks more surprised than I could imagine, probably more dumbstruck then myself.
Date-Rape drug, if I'm correct.
I sign the papers and the extra man leaves, leaving the sleeping, nude man and myself. I roll the vessel in my room and lay the body on my bed, covering him with my clothes, which were much too long for him, and my bed sheets; I can't fix anything until he wakes up.
As I was attempting to finish my classwork, I hear a stir and turn my head to the bed where he was sitting up, holding his head with quaking hands.
"Wha... where am I," his voice is quiet and soft, a little rough around the edges but soft none-the-less; "Where am I and wh--" he interrupts himself to look up at me, "...Who are you?"
I maneuver myself to my, now sweat soaked, bed sheets. "I'm... Joomyuk," I'm trying to erase my heritage, yes... Joomyuk is my name, "this is my apartment in Seoul." Escaping his gaze, I turn my head to the rest of the room, after all, staring is rather impolite and I'm only trying to help. "And yourself?"
"I--" His knees came in contact with his forehead as his arms wrap around his creased legs, "I don't know--I don't remember anything." His trembling became more clear, the bed was moving back and forth the slightest bit. "This feeling--"
"It's a drug," I sit back into my cold, wooden chair at my desk. "a drug in your system is making you feel this way." He nods quickly, almost as if he knows.
"The only way to get it out..." He looks up at me again, his chocolate eyes digging deep into mine, "you know, don't you... how to get it out." He seems embarrassed.
"Yes, yes I do." A firm nod, "Can you do it yourself? Or do I..." he shakes his head, but I'm not sure if it means that he can finish his business or not.
"I-I can't--" he turns his head away, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sorry--"
"It's fine," I move to the other and let my hand fall on his bent back and he jumps slightly at the touch. He looks up at with tears in his eyes: fear, rejection, hurt. "Come on," I give him a slight push on his back to get his to move to the edge of the bed to stand up and I lead him to the lavatory. I remove his clothing since his hands are trembling far too much for him to do it himself and work the drug out of his body; he collapses onto me, his arms reaching for something to grab onto to stabilize himself and find my shoulders as I wrap my limbs around him in fear that he falls and gets a concussion from the counter.
"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"
A/N: This is difficult to write :( But because the idea is so tragic, I might be able to write this to it's completion! Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated ♥