Wild Imagination
Title: Wild Imagination
Pairing: Sihan
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Gore descriptions and Geng's bad language ^^'
Disclamer: I own no one!
Summary: Hours of waiting, hours of wondering what happens, hours of imagining what could have happened...
The evil man was running, laughing hysterically as the policeman was chasing him, gun in hand, ready to shoot should his enemy attempt any bad move. The criminal took a small, sinuous alley, dark as if the day was ending though it was noon. As the policeman entered the path, he found out that had had lost his opponent’s track.
“Damn it!”
Looking around to find hints, he spotted a dark figure on a roof, ready to shoot him. Incapable of finding somewhere to hide, his thoughts instantly went to his wife, waiting for him to come back safely at home…
Geng pressed the power button of the TV remote with a shout of frustration. Now that the room was dark, the once functional screen being the only source of light, the gracious man tiptoed to the window, pulling the curtains slightly, just enough to see the street, soaking in the rain, showered by the intensity of the storm raging outside… which was nothing compared to the storm battling in the Chinese’s heart.
No car in the house’s driveway…
With a sigh, may it be a tiny bit exaggerated; he dropped the edge of the curtain and walked out of the intimidating dark living room, carrying his strangely heavy feet to the kitchen. Anyone who knew the young man, who knew how he usually had gracious manners, would be highly surprised to see him walk like a death-sentenced prisoner would while nearing the electric chair…
He sat on the kitchen’s counter, right next to the sink, before checking the number on the answer machine nearby. He was hoping for a 2 or a 1, anything that involved a little red flashing light.
It’s a 0. No message.
With another loud sigh, he jumped down the counter and carried his feet with difficulty once again. It wasn’t happening… It couldn’t… Wait, no packing, he had to check elsewhere first, maybe he was jumping to conclusions, he did it many times already, he had to calm down…
But panic was winning over as he ran to his small office, what used to be a baby bedroom when the house belonged to its former owners, transformed into the place where he wrote his novels… His feet were kicking balls of paper scattered around, corpses of rejected ideas, as he approached the chaotic desk, dictionaries on the verge of falling on the floor by their precarious emplacement, sheets flying everywhere, a broken pen dripping its ink on anything close to it, the laptop impossible to find under to chaos… How was he supposed to locate a cell phone in that?
He liked his chaos when he was writing. Well, for someone who wrote about murders and rapes and end of the world theories in his novels, he kind of needed his atmosphere to be able to put himself in the mood after dealing with the old lady at the market (she kept on asking him when he would find a nice girl) or with the calls of his family members, asking him to come to Mudanjiang more often.
Only now, he needed his cell phone.
Pushing everything aside like a demented person who just got his biggest problem thrown back at him would do with objects around him, he was throwing his books, papers and laptop… wait, laptop? Holding the computer in his hand, he considered it for a few seconds before sighing and putting it back where it belonged. He couldn’t afford to break that one… it was the third this year, he would be in deep trouble if he destroyed another one. But where was the damn cell phone?! Suddenly, he spotted the tiny light under his dictionary.
There is it!
Don’t listen to the news, it’s a bad case.
Bad case? BAD CASE?! How is that supposed to calm him down?! And as if this simple text message could stop him from looking or even panicking!
He ran to the living room, opening the TV once more, stopping for a second, watching with round eyes as the movie he watched earlier was ending, the policeman’s wife crying to no end, clutching at the dead man’s coffin… He had to stop watching this. It was no good. It was not helping him in his current situation… and those kind of plots killed his muse most of the time…
Now, on with the news… which channel is it?
“Exclusive Broadcast. Our reporters just got come information about the explosion that happened downtown in the lat hour. Apparently, the initial action was the bombing of the entire parliament. The idea was claimed a few minutes about by extremist members of ethnic minorities.”
Bombing…. Making the parliament explode… Minorities….
It’s a bad case…
“Apparently, a huge explosion was supposed to happen at 21h00 tonight, in honor of the 21 minority members that were brutally killed by the army in last month’s large scale manifestation. According to our sources, the explosion that actually happened was only as 10% big as the initial one and was caused by the failure of the bomb dismantlement team.”
10%.... Failure…
Don’t listen to the news…
No! It couldn’t be!
Geng ran back to his small office, breath bitching with panic as he fumbled with the paper balls, trying to find his cell phone once more, which had been dropped on the floor in the hurry of the last text message. He was almost whimpering as he couldn’t find it, his mind playing images of building exploding, of bodies being pushed away by the force of it, bloody mess of limbs separated from torsos, of eyes opened in shock but empty of any soul.
…images of a tall and very well built bomb dismantling expert, clothes eaten by fire, face ravaged by the impact of the detonation, blood running where tears would usually do since there were no eyes left in the orbits to shed tears in the first place, the little wires of the bomb still stuck in his fingers… with his over burned cell phone refusing to ring him to tell him to wake up and go back where he belongs…
“I have to find it! Please!”
He had no idea who he was begging, but he had to beg someone, anything, that could help him. In those times he almost regretted not being religious. As he heard voices telling him that it was never too late to believe, he put his hands on his ears, falling on the ground with a loud thump, eyes squeezed shut, as if it would stop the horrifying images in his head. He was writing about it all the time, why was it affecting him so much now?.
“SHUT UP!”
He had no idea who he was shouting at, the one talking to him in his mind or at his own mind itself, but he needed to scream, anything… Suddenly he reopened his eyes and there it was…
…the cellular.
He jumped on it, fingers incapable of coordinating as he tried to dial the number he so wanted to call. But as he was about to press the talk button, he heard, as a trick of fate, the news announcer say something that tore his heart in tiny pieces.
“Immediate update on the explosion in Downtown Beijing: The bomb dismantlement team just announced the regrettable death of one of their most talented experts. The man had been trying to dismantle the bomb that exploded, but the terrorists who knew about his usual technique tricked the engine so it would explode if he tried to use that technique of his… surprisingly enough, the deceased wasn’t even of Han Chinese descent… minorities extremists can go as far as killing a fellow minority member…”
Not Han Chinese… Korean?
“NO! NO! NO! PLEASE! NO!”
He fell to the floor once more, tears welling up in his eyes as he clutched the cell phone to his chest, not realising that he maybe was jumping to conclusions, his heart as hurting so much, he thought that he would die from the pain.
“Please…”
He was whimpering, looking as much as a corpse as the balls of paper surrounding him in the chaos of his little office. Images of the movie he saw earlier were coming back at him, the wife’s firm grip on her beloved’s coffin…
“No… not that…”
When he heard the clock of the hallway ringing 21h, he let out a sob…
Do not worry, darling, I’ll be back in three hours…
“It’s been six hours… will you even come back at all…?”
He never heard the phone ringing in the kitchen, or did he heard the tires of a car entering the house’s parkway. He never felt the vibration of his cell phone telling him there was someone calling, not did he heard the unlocking of the house’s main door or even his own name being called.
“Geng?”
He never heard it, and not even the steps taken in order to find him. Or maybe he heard them, but he didn’t want to acknowledge them, didn’t want to hear the confirmation of what he was fearing so much.
“Geng?!”
He was crying so hard now, he didn’t want to see anyone, he wanted to be left alone with his pain. When he heard the door of the office being pushed open, squeaking in the process, he wanted to turn around and shout to anyone who is there to go away, that he already knew and that he didn’t want to hear it officially.
“Oh, Geng, darling…”
His eyes opened wide as he was raised from the ground and held tightly in a so familiar embrace. He let out another sob because punching loosely the person who was holding him.
“I told you not to watch the news… Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
“I HATE YOU!”
He heard Siwon chuckle slightly as he was rubbing his back, not affected even a tiny bit by Geng’s supposedly hateful remark.
“If you hated me, you wouldn’t be crying that much…”
Softly the tallest was wiping away his lover’s tears from his cheeks and under his eyes. It happened every time Siwon had to go on a bigger case than usual. With what happened that day, Siwon was actually surprised to see the house still standing when he came back, last time something bad happened on a mission, Geng caused a tiny-scale apocalypse in their house… Maybe it wasn’t a good thing to keep the man in that building on his own for too long.
“They’re hate tears!”
“You don’t hate me… I know it…”
“I HATE YOU SO DAMN MUCH AND YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT I DO!”
Siwon wasn’t even a bit hurt by those harsh and usually painful words. He was used to it, used to hear those sentences, used to those fists hitting his chest with something that couldn’t even be called strength. He didn’t take it personal, because he knew what it was in him that Geng hated this much. What it was that made him throw fits this big.
“You don’t hate me… You hate that you’re not as emotionally independent as you want to be… You hate the fear gripping at your insides at the idea that one day a bomb explodes while I’m trying to dismantle it…”
It was the same speech every time, the same pattern every time, so much Siwon knew that the more he would say, the more his lover would turn back to his previous crying state, and that soon, he would probably get a kiss that would signify that Geng didn’t mean all the hurtful shouting he did just a moment ago.
“You hate those horrible images you have in your head when left alone in here while I’m on a mission… You hate that I can’t call you or text you to tell you why I’m three hours late. You hate to have to wait until I’m home for you to know if I’m alright…”
There they were, the tears welling up in Geng’s eyes once more. Yes, he hated all of this, oh how he wished things were different…
“Geng… you knew all along that it would be like that… if it’s that difficult for you, why did you agree to marry me? Your imagination is way too wild for you to go through everything every time… Oh, come on, don’t cry…”
But it was too late: with a whimper Geng started to sob once more, his face hidden in his lover’s shoulder as he kept on hitting him, although this time he was actually hurting Siwon who did his best not to wince even once. He felt as if he almost deserved them for keeping with this job. He loved the thrill of it, and he loved saving people, but was it worth the tears in those beautiful eyes?
“I hate you so damn much…”
“I know… but you don’t…”
“I know…”
Siwon smiled before tilting his head just enough to place a soft and chaste kiss on Geng’s lips… but even if he wanted to continue with it, Geng’s body language clearly expressed that he had something to talk about.
“Who died?”
“No one, the news were wrong… A guy from another team… what was his name… Sungmin? Yeah, I think that is… got burned because he was too close to the bomb when the countdown ended but sadly, stuff like that happens… the news were changed to stop the attempts of the terrorists… but anyway, for now… I have a wife to care about…”
“I’M NOT YOUR WIFE!”
Siwon started laughing like a kid as Geng smacked him with full force, completely forgetting the worry he went through just a second ago. His goal was achieved: Geng was not crying anymore, too busy with smacking him for implying that the Chinese was the girl of their relationship.
Geng was stopped on his tracks, though, as Siwon picked him off the ground and carried him to the living room, throwing him on the sofa before climbing in turn, hovering over the novelist as they kissed sweetly.
“Geng, my love… If it’s too much for you, I’ll stop. I understand that it’s difficult to wait for me to come back home.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s just this wild imagination of mine that is a problem.”
“And I love this wild imagination of yours when it’s not making you go through intense stress…”
“You say that because you like all the new things I think about trying in bed…”
“We can say it like that… OUTCH!”
Geng smacked him once more, making the Korean bite his own tongue in surprise. Realising what he did, Geng went to kiss his lover once more, tongue softly caressing the other’s in apology.
“I love you…”
“See, you don’t hate me, after all…”
“Damn you.”
To think that Geng had almost forgotten the reason why he said he hated his lover in first place. And as Siwon was kissing him once more while slowly sliding his hands in the writer’s pants, holding his behind, Geng knew that he would forget it once more quite quickly. This imagination of his was taking too much place for his memory to be good, anyway…
Pairing: Sihan
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Gore descriptions and Geng's bad language ^^'
Disclamer: I own no one!
Summary: Hours of waiting, hours of wondering what happens, hours of imagining what could have happened...
The evil man was running, laughing hysterically as the policeman was chasing him, gun in hand, ready to shoot should his enemy attempt any bad move. The criminal took a small, sinuous alley, dark as if the day was ending though it was noon. As the policeman entered the path, he found out that had had lost his opponent’s track.
“Damn it!”
Looking around to find hints, he spotted a dark figure on a roof, ready to shoot him. Incapable of finding somewhere to hide, his thoughts instantly went to his wife, waiting for him to come back safely at home…
Geng pressed the power button of the TV remote with a shout of frustration. Now that the room was dark, the once functional screen being the only source of light, the gracious man tiptoed to the window, pulling the curtains slightly, just enough to see the street, soaking in the rain, showered by the intensity of the storm raging outside… which was nothing compared to the storm battling in the Chinese’s heart.
No car in the house’s driveway…
With a sigh, may it be a tiny bit exaggerated; he dropped the edge of the curtain and walked out of the intimidating dark living room, carrying his strangely heavy feet to the kitchen. Anyone who knew the young man, who knew how he usually had gracious manners, would be highly surprised to see him walk like a death-sentenced prisoner would while nearing the electric chair…
He sat on the kitchen’s counter, right next to the sink, before checking the number on the answer machine nearby. He was hoping for a 2 or a 1, anything that involved a little red flashing light.
It’s a 0. No message.
With another loud sigh, he jumped down the counter and carried his feet with difficulty once again. It wasn’t happening… It couldn’t… Wait, no packing, he had to check elsewhere first, maybe he was jumping to conclusions, he did it many times already, he had to calm down…
But panic was winning over as he ran to his small office, what used to be a baby bedroom when the house belonged to its former owners, transformed into the place where he wrote his novels… His feet were kicking balls of paper scattered around, corpses of rejected ideas, as he approached the chaotic desk, dictionaries on the verge of falling on the floor by their precarious emplacement, sheets flying everywhere, a broken pen dripping its ink on anything close to it, the laptop impossible to find under to chaos… How was he supposed to locate a cell phone in that?
He liked his chaos when he was writing. Well, for someone who wrote about murders and rapes and end of the world theories in his novels, he kind of needed his atmosphere to be able to put himself in the mood after dealing with the old lady at the market (she kept on asking him when he would find a nice girl) or with the calls of his family members, asking him to come to Mudanjiang more often.
Only now, he needed his cell phone.
Pushing everything aside like a demented person who just got his biggest problem thrown back at him would do with objects around him, he was throwing his books, papers and laptop… wait, laptop? Holding the computer in his hand, he considered it for a few seconds before sighing and putting it back where it belonged. He couldn’t afford to break that one… it was the third this year, he would be in deep trouble if he destroyed another one. But where was the damn cell phone?! Suddenly, he spotted the tiny light under his dictionary.
There is it!
Don’t listen to the news, it’s a bad case.
Bad case? BAD CASE?! How is that supposed to calm him down?! And as if this simple text message could stop him from looking or even panicking!
He ran to the living room, opening the TV once more, stopping for a second, watching with round eyes as the movie he watched earlier was ending, the policeman’s wife crying to no end, clutching at the dead man’s coffin… He had to stop watching this. It was no good. It was not helping him in his current situation… and those kind of plots killed his muse most of the time…
Now, on with the news… which channel is it?
“Exclusive Broadcast. Our reporters just got come information about the explosion that happened downtown in the lat hour. Apparently, the initial action was the bombing of the entire parliament. The idea was claimed a few minutes about by extremist members of ethnic minorities.”
Bombing…. Making the parliament explode… Minorities….
It’s a bad case…
“Apparently, a huge explosion was supposed to happen at 21h00 tonight, in honor of the 21 minority members that were brutally killed by the army in last month’s large scale manifestation. According to our sources, the explosion that actually happened was only as 10% big as the initial one and was caused by the failure of the bomb dismantlement team.”
10%.... Failure…
Don’t listen to the news…
No! It couldn’t be!
Geng ran back to his small office, breath bitching with panic as he fumbled with the paper balls, trying to find his cell phone once more, which had been dropped on the floor in the hurry of the last text message. He was almost whimpering as he couldn’t find it, his mind playing images of building exploding, of bodies being pushed away by the force of it, bloody mess of limbs separated from torsos, of eyes opened in shock but empty of any soul.
…images of a tall and very well built bomb dismantling expert, clothes eaten by fire, face ravaged by the impact of the detonation, blood running where tears would usually do since there were no eyes left in the orbits to shed tears in the first place, the little wires of the bomb still stuck in his fingers… with his over burned cell phone refusing to ring him to tell him to wake up and go back where he belongs…
“I have to find it! Please!”
He had no idea who he was begging, but he had to beg someone, anything, that could help him. In those times he almost regretted not being religious. As he heard voices telling him that it was never too late to believe, he put his hands on his ears, falling on the ground with a loud thump, eyes squeezed shut, as if it would stop the horrifying images in his head. He was writing about it all the time, why was it affecting him so much now?.
“SHUT UP!”
He had no idea who he was shouting at, the one talking to him in his mind or at his own mind itself, but he needed to scream, anything… Suddenly he reopened his eyes and there it was…
…the cellular.
He jumped on it, fingers incapable of coordinating as he tried to dial the number he so wanted to call. But as he was about to press the talk button, he heard, as a trick of fate, the news announcer say something that tore his heart in tiny pieces.
“Immediate update on the explosion in Downtown Beijing: The bomb dismantlement team just announced the regrettable death of one of their most talented experts. The man had been trying to dismantle the bomb that exploded, but the terrorists who knew about his usual technique tricked the engine so it would explode if he tried to use that technique of his… surprisingly enough, the deceased wasn’t even of Han Chinese descent… minorities extremists can go as far as killing a fellow minority member…”
Not Han Chinese… Korean?
“NO! NO! NO! PLEASE! NO!”
He fell to the floor once more, tears welling up in his eyes as he clutched the cell phone to his chest, not realising that he maybe was jumping to conclusions, his heart as hurting so much, he thought that he would die from the pain.
“Please…”
He was whimpering, looking as much as a corpse as the balls of paper surrounding him in the chaos of his little office. Images of the movie he saw earlier were coming back at him, the wife’s firm grip on her beloved’s coffin…
“No… not that…”
When he heard the clock of the hallway ringing 21h, he let out a sob…
Do not worry, darling, I’ll be back in three hours…
“It’s been six hours… will you even come back at all…?”
He never heard the phone ringing in the kitchen, or did he heard the tires of a car entering the house’s parkway. He never felt the vibration of his cell phone telling him there was someone calling, not did he heard the unlocking of the house’s main door or even his own name being called.
“Geng?”
He never heard it, and not even the steps taken in order to find him. Or maybe he heard them, but he didn’t want to acknowledge them, didn’t want to hear the confirmation of what he was fearing so much.
“Geng?!”
He was crying so hard now, he didn’t want to see anyone, he wanted to be left alone with his pain. When he heard the door of the office being pushed open, squeaking in the process, he wanted to turn around and shout to anyone who is there to go away, that he already knew and that he didn’t want to hear it officially.
“Oh, Geng, darling…”
His eyes opened wide as he was raised from the ground and held tightly in a so familiar embrace. He let out another sob because punching loosely the person who was holding him.
“I told you not to watch the news… Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
“I HATE YOU!”
He heard Siwon chuckle slightly as he was rubbing his back, not affected even a tiny bit by Geng’s supposedly hateful remark.
“If you hated me, you wouldn’t be crying that much…”
Softly the tallest was wiping away his lover’s tears from his cheeks and under his eyes. It happened every time Siwon had to go on a bigger case than usual. With what happened that day, Siwon was actually surprised to see the house still standing when he came back, last time something bad happened on a mission, Geng caused a tiny-scale apocalypse in their house… Maybe it wasn’t a good thing to keep the man in that building on his own for too long.
“They’re hate tears!”
“You don’t hate me… I know it…”
“I HATE YOU SO DAMN MUCH AND YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT I DO!”
Siwon wasn’t even a bit hurt by those harsh and usually painful words. He was used to it, used to hear those sentences, used to those fists hitting his chest with something that couldn’t even be called strength. He didn’t take it personal, because he knew what it was in him that Geng hated this much. What it was that made him throw fits this big.
“You don’t hate me… You hate that you’re not as emotionally independent as you want to be… You hate the fear gripping at your insides at the idea that one day a bomb explodes while I’m trying to dismantle it…”
It was the same speech every time, the same pattern every time, so much Siwon knew that the more he would say, the more his lover would turn back to his previous crying state, and that soon, he would probably get a kiss that would signify that Geng didn’t mean all the hurtful shouting he did just a moment ago.
“You hate those horrible images you have in your head when left alone in here while I’m on a mission… You hate that I can’t call you or text you to tell you why I’m three hours late. You hate to have to wait until I’m home for you to know if I’m alright…”
There they were, the tears welling up in Geng’s eyes once more. Yes, he hated all of this, oh how he wished things were different…
“Geng… you knew all along that it would be like that… if it’s that difficult for you, why did you agree to marry me? Your imagination is way too wild for you to go through everything every time… Oh, come on, don’t cry…”
But it was too late: with a whimper Geng started to sob once more, his face hidden in his lover’s shoulder as he kept on hitting him, although this time he was actually hurting Siwon who did his best not to wince even once. He felt as if he almost deserved them for keeping with this job. He loved the thrill of it, and he loved saving people, but was it worth the tears in those beautiful eyes?
“I hate you so damn much…”
“I know… but you don’t…”
“I know…”
Siwon smiled before tilting his head just enough to place a soft and chaste kiss on Geng’s lips… but even if he wanted to continue with it, Geng’s body language clearly expressed that he had something to talk about.
“Who died?”
“No one, the news were wrong… A guy from another team… what was his name… Sungmin? Yeah, I think that is… got burned because he was too close to the bomb when the countdown ended but sadly, stuff like that happens… the news were changed to stop the attempts of the terrorists… but anyway, for now… I have a wife to care about…”
“I’M NOT YOUR WIFE!”
Siwon started laughing like a kid as Geng smacked him with full force, completely forgetting the worry he went through just a second ago. His goal was achieved: Geng was not crying anymore, too busy with smacking him for implying that the Chinese was the girl of their relationship.
Geng was stopped on his tracks, though, as Siwon picked him off the ground and carried him to the living room, throwing him on the sofa before climbing in turn, hovering over the novelist as they kissed sweetly.
“Geng, my love… If it’s too much for you, I’ll stop. I understand that it’s difficult to wait for me to come back home.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s just this wild imagination of mine that is a problem.”
“And I love this wild imagination of yours when it’s not making you go through intense stress…”
“You say that because you like all the new things I think about trying in bed…”
“We can say it like that… OUTCH!”
Geng smacked him once more, making the Korean bite his own tongue in surprise. Realising what he did, Geng went to kiss his lover once more, tongue softly caressing the other’s in apology.
“I love you…”
“See, you don’t hate me, after all…”
“Damn you.”
To think that Geng had almost forgotten the reason why he said he hated his lover in first place. And as Siwon was kissing him once more while slowly sliding his hands in the writer’s pants, holding his behind, Geng knew that he would forget it once more quite quickly. This imagination of his was taking too much place for his memory to be good, anyway…