lock me up (in your heart) - [2/?]
title: lock me up (in your heart) - [2/?]
genre: romance, angst, detective and serial killer au
warnings: not for the weak stomached, slight gore, eventual frick frack
description: studies show that patients who receive heart transplants experience a change in personality and Do Kyungsoo has a serial killer's heart
A/N: I wanted to stagger posting the chapters i already have but i felt like it was urgent that soo appear immediately...enjoy!!
The scent of paper and ink dissipates in the air with an overwhelming sense of familiarity and comfort, plastic machinery under soft fingertips as polite thank you’s are exchanged with small smiles stretched over faces, cash gripped in one hand.
Kyungsoo says his goodbyes to the elderly Mrs. Lee with a soft wave, but as soon as she leaves the small bookshop and the doorbell stops tinkling, his mask of courteousness quickly slips off and is replaced by an indifferent expression that Baekhyun has often scolded him for.
He fluidly punches in the required numbers to open the cash register, slips the bills in the appropriate places and making sure they are perfectly aligned, frowning when he sees that the silver coins have been mixed up with bronze ones.
Baekhyun really needs to learn the basics of cash register organization.
“Food?”
Kyungsoo looks up to his cousin and raises both his eyebrows. Baekhyun is grinning, mouth a rectangular gleam of pearly whites as he offers Kyungsoo a cup of ramen that looks like it needs some more cooking. He bites back the snarky retort that threatens to spill past his lips, stops himself from telling Baekhyun that ramen isn’t good for him, all that sodium won’t do good to his heart.
He bites it back because Baekhyun is the only person who can tolerate his cold personality, too wrapped up in his easy-going nature to mind things that he should about Kyungsoo.
Hesitantly, Kyungsoo takes the cup from his cousin’s hand, warmth seeping past the paper to his fingers. He stares at the substance and the swirl of half-cooked noodles. How long has it been since he last had a cup of ramen? A month? A year?
The answer comes easily.
Three years.
It has been three years since his heart transplant and three years since his first kill.
Kyungsoo had always been a frail child. So small and skinny for his age, with a low immune system that had him bedridden for days after countless bouts of fever. Breathing was hard for him, every exhale and inhale felt like he was grasping at straws, lungs burning, his heart working overtime just to keep him alive. Small pleasures in life were constantly given to him, because everyone believed that he wouldn’t last long, wouldn’t even reach the age of twenty.
Still, he survived.
Just three days after his twenty-second birthday, Kyungsoo had collapsed in the middle of ongoing classes and had been admitted to the hospital with a resigned feeling, believing that that was it, that he was going to die and those dreams he’d longed and wished for would stay like that forever, just unfulfilled dreams held so close to a dead boy’s dysfunctional heart.
But Kyungsoo had woken up, with a new, healthy beating heart from an anonymous donor and a sense of indifference and apathy towards his mother and father, both their faces tear streaked from relief that their son was alive and had a second shot in life.
He had a niggling feeling that dying would have been a better option than what was to come ahead.
Over the months of his recovery, Kyungsoo struggled and wondered why he preferred being alone over enjoying the company of the few friends he had. He wondered why he didn’t cry over the movies and anime that would have reduced him into a tear soaked mess is seconds, wondered why he had developed a sudden interest in horror movies, didn’t flinch when it came to the gory scenes.
It had concerned his parents, so Kyungsoo began to mold a mask of what had been his former self and wore it with his family and friends, even though he couldn’t care less if his Aunt died or if his classmate Ryeowook snapped his neck in a car accident.
His first kill had been five months later. Kyungsoo had grown antsy for some reason, nails bitten until they bled and a sense of urgency constantly running through his veins. His mother was suddenly too loud, his father suddenly too irritating, his friends too fucking annoying and everywhere he went, he’d see red. He had no idea what was wrong with him, just that, he was suddenly so angry at everything.
That was, until, he saw him.
Kyungsoo had been waiting for his follow-up checkup in the hospital when he saw Luhan, a sickly looking boy with a body too skinny to be healthy and the dullest of whites saturating paper-thin skin. Luhan had been dressed in the usual drab hospital gown, smiling widely even though one small step seemed to take all of his strength, but what caught Kyungsoo’s attention had been the way the sorry excuse for clothing dipped around his collarbones.
Luhan had the most attractive set of collarbones and neck he’d ever seen, and the urge to choke someone had never been so strong.
He had approached Luhan, had befriended him, memorized his routine, earned his trust and two weeks after Luhan’s release had asked him out with the perfect mix of boyish shyness and hopefulness. Luhan had been charmed, had found him irresistible, had looked at him like he was god’s gift to mankind.
And when those same eyes had stared at him in fear, shock and betrayal, Kyungsoo had smiled.
It was almost a minute and a half of choking Luhan before those pretty bambi eyes closed, tears streaking soft cheeks. It took a few minutes more before Kyungsoo could shove him into the trunk of his car, driving off to the edge of the Han river’s deeper parts before he disposed of Luhan’s body.
Kyungsoo thought he had gone insane, he must have, because his sense of right and wrong had always been strong and yet he felt no remorse in killing Luhan. Instead, he reveled in the look of disbelief in Luhan’s eyes, got high off the sharp scream Luhan had managed to let out before Kyungsoo choked him hard.
Luhan had been reported missing, and it had been a month later before a coast guard found his dead body floating in the mouth of the river.
Every time he committed murder, it was the same. A build-up of the urge to just kill, kill, kill. It wasn’t long before he succumbed to the rush of glee he got when life seeped through someone’s eyes, wasn’t long before he realized that he had to stay away from the people he actually cared for when these strange urges came. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that he had to develop a method for all these killing sprees, had to set up precautions in order to elude being sent to prison.
It has been three years…
“Where were you last week by the way?” Baekhyun snaps him out of his thoughts.
Kyungsoo looks up, a small smile lingers on plush lips, eyes mysterious. “Oh you know, just had some fun.”
i - iii
genre: romance, angst, detective and serial killer au
warnings: not for the weak stomached, slight gore, eventual frick frack
description: studies show that patients who receive heart transplants experience a change in personality and Do Kyungsoo has a serial killer's heart
A/N: I wanted to stagger posting the chapters i already have but i felt like it was urgent that soo appear immediately...enjoy!!
The scent of paper and ink dissipates in the air with an overwhelming sense of familiarity and comfort, plastic machinery under soft fingertips as polite thank you’s are exchanged with small smiles stretched over faces, cash gripped in one hand.
Kyungsoo says his goodbyes to the elderly Mrs. Lee with a soft wave, but as soon as she leaves the small bookshop and the doorbell stops tinkling, his mask of courteousness quickly slips off and is replaced by an indifferent expression that Baekhyun has often scolded him for.
He fluidly punches in the required numbers to open the cash register, slips the bills in the appropriate places and making sure they are perfectly aligned, frowning when he sees that the silver coins have been mixed up with bronze ones.
Baekhyun really needs to learn the basics of cash register organization.
“Food?”
Kyungsoo looks up to his cousin and raises both his eyebrows. Baekhyun is grinning, mouth a rectangular gleam of pearly whites as he offers Kyungsoo a cup of ramen that looks like it needs some more cooking. He bites back the snarky retort that threatens to spill past his lips, stops himself from telling Baekhyun that ramen isn’t good for him, all that sodium won’t do good to his heart.
He bites it back because Baekhyun is the only person who can tolerate his cold personality, too wrapped up in his easy-going nature to mind things that he should about Kyungsoo.
Hesitantly, Kyungsoo takes the cup from his cousin’s hand, warmth seeping past the paper to his fingers. He stares at the substance and the swirl of half-cooked noodles. How long has it been since he last had a cup of ramen? A month? A year?
The answer comes easily.
Three years.
It has been three years since his heart transplant and three years since his first kill.
Kyungsoo had always been a frail child. So small and skinny for his age, with a low immune system that had him bedridden for days after countless bouts of fever. Breathing was hard for him, every exhale and inhale felt like he was grasping at straws, lungs burning, his heart working overtime just to keep him alive. Small pleasures in life were constantly given to him, because everyone believed that he wouldn’t last long, wouldn’t even reach the age of twenty.
Still, he survived.
Just three days after his twenty-second birthday, Kyungsoo had collapsed in the middle of ongoing classes and had been admitted to the hospital with a resigned feeling, believing that that was it, that he was going to die and those dreams he’d longed and wished for would stay like that forever, just unfulfilled dreams held so close to a dead boy’s dysfunctional heart.
But Kyungsoo had woken up, with a new, healthy beating heart from an anonymous donor and a sense of indifference and apathy towards his mother and father, both their faces tear streaked from relief that their son was alive and had a second shot in life.
He had a niggling feeling that dying would have been a better option than what was to come ahead.
Over the months of his recovery, Kyungsoo struggled and wondered why he preferred being alone over enjoying the company of the few friends he had. He wondered why he didn’t cry over the movies and anime that would have reduced him into a tear soaked mess is seconds, wondered why he had developed a sudden interest in horror movies, didn’t flinch when it came to the gory scenes.
It had concerned his parents, so Kyungsoo began to mold a mask of what had been his former self and wore it with his family and friends, even though he couldn’t care less if his Aunt died or if his classmate Ryeowook snapped his neck in a car accident.
His first kill had been five months later. Kyungsoo had grown antsy for some reason, nails bitten until they bled and a sense of urgency constantly running through his veins. His mother was suddenly too loud, his father suddenly too irritating, his friends too fucking annoying and everywhere he went, he’d see red. He had no idea what was wrong with him, just that, he was suddenly so angry at everything.
That was, until, he saw him.
Kyungsoo had been waiting for his follow-up checkup in the hospital when he saw Luhan, a sickly looking boy with a body too skinny to be healthy and the dullest of whites saturating paper-thin skin. Luhan had been dressed in the usual drab hospital gown, smiling widely even though one small step seemed to take all of his strength, but what caught Kyungsoo’s attention had been the way the sorry excuse for clothing dipped around his collarbones.
Luhan had the most attractive set of collarbones and neck he’d ever seen, and the urge to choke someone had never been so strong.
He had approached Luhan, had befriended him, memorized his routine, earned his trust and two weeks after Luhan’s release had asked him out with the perfect mix of boyish shyness and hopefulness. Luhan had been charmed, had found him irresistible, had looked at him like he was god’s gift to mankind.
And when those same eyes had stared at him in fear, shock and betrayal, Kyungsoo had smiled.
It was almost a minute and a half of choking Luhan before those pretty bambi eyes closed, tears streaking soft cheeks. It took a few minutes more before Kyungsoo could shove him into the trunk of his car, driving off to the edge of the Han river’s deeper parts before he disposed of Luhan’s body.
Kyungsoo thought he had gone insane, he must have, because his sense of right and wrong had always been strong and yet he felt no remorse in killing Luhan. Instead, he reveled in the look of disbelief in Luhan’s eyes, got high off the sharp scream Luhan had managed to let out before Kyungsoo choked him hard.
Luhan had been reported missing, and it had been a month later before a coast guard found his dead body floating in the mouth of the river.
Every time he committed murder, it was the same. A build-up of the urge to just kill, kill, kill. It wasn’t long before he succumbed to the rush of glee he got when life seeped through someone’s eyes, wasn’t long before he realized that he had to stay away from the people he actually cared for when these strange urges came. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that he had to develop a method for all these killing sprees, had to set up precautions in order to elude being sent to prison.
It has been three years…
“Where were you last week by the way?” Baekhyun snaps him out of his thoughts.
Kyungsoo looks up, a small smile lingers on plush lips, eyes mysterious. “Oh you know, just had some fun.”
i - iii