I'm Finally Getting Closer
Title: I'm Finally Getting Closer
Rating: R
Pairing: Sungmin/Kangin
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Warning: Minor character death-type events (off screen, but discussed).
Summary: An Inception AU. Sungmin remembers past events and tries to move on, with Kangin's help.
Notes: Thank you so much to H, lixia84, and glitterburn for their tireless support and encouragement. This is my first foray into kpop fandom. The title of this fic is from a Wouter Hamel song.
---
Kangin is ex-military. Ex as in formally, used to be a member of. But Sungmin, who is the opposite of everything involving the military (except for the use of a gun, and aside from that one night, but especially now, it's only in the dreamworld), thinks that maybe sometimes Kangin forgets that he's freelance. It's scary in the dreamworld, because Kangin doesn't hold back, but when they're only half-awake from dreaming and Sungmin's got a gun to his head and Kangin's just fucking losing it, it's even more terrifying.
Afterward, when they're alone and Kangin's destroyed everything at their old flat, Sungmin has his own breakdown.
"I can't. I can't … when you're like this." He can't finish his sentences, can't think straight. He watches Kangin pacing, ignoring him without actually ignoring him.
Then Kangin stops, mid-stride, and whirls around. Hands on his hips and Sungmin feels like Kangin's looking right through him. "What did you want me to do?" He snaps and the words pierce Sungmin's heart, through all those layers he's used to guard his heart from breaking all over again.
"I …" He stops, looks at the floor.
He hears Kangin cross the room toward him, feels him sit on the edge of the hotel bed. He doesn't look up, doesn't want to see the disappointment on Kangin's face, the worry. Kangin doesn't say anything and Sungmin doesn't either, they just sit there in silence.
The hotel walls are thin, he can hear the tv in the room on the far side of the wall and the couple having sex on the other. He listens and tries not to think. He stares at his hands, twisting his fingers together, around each other. He feels Kangin move again, doesn't look up, but then Kangin's there, kneeling in front of him.
"Sungmin." Kangin's voice is rough and against his better judgement, Sungmin looks up.
He looks away, but Kangin's fingers brush against his jaw, turning his head back. "What?" Sungmin winces a little, he sounds little, too young, and almost petulant.
"I couldn't let them."
Sungmin bites his bottom lip. There are hundreds of secrets he's never told Kangin. Stories about his past, about the person he used to be, before he got mixed up in dreams. Before he met the people who changed his life. The people who introduced him to dreaming sharing. Just like he knows that Kangin has secrets that don't let him sleep through the night, not in the three years they've known each other.
"What?" He asks again, even though he knows the answer.
Kangin's gaze is intense, hard. It bores into Sungmin and he wants to look away, but he doesn't. "I couldn't let them hurt you."
There's a twist, somewhere in his stomach. He half pushes Kangin away. Then stands up and walking to the window. He feels like he's drowning, like the entire world's collapsing in on him. It's like every dream he worries he won't wake up from, like all the memories he can hide in a box but never escape. He presses his hands against the glass, looking outside. He doesn't even remember what city they're in. He can't even tell if he's awake. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the key chain he keeps there. The music note twists and twists, then slows to a stop. He turns.
"Sungmin …"
Shoving his totem back in his pocket, he twists his fingers in the hem of his shirt, but says nothing. Instead he watches Kangin walk toward him. He feels a rush, when Kangin stops so close that his breath is hot on Sungmin's face. He thinks about everything in his past, about the last boy he fell in love with. About the dreams that you can't ever wake up from. Then he feels Kangin's hands on his face, gentle, as if Sungmin could break.
Kangin leans in and when Sungmin should push him away, he doesn't. The kiss is hard, rough. Kangin presses him up against the window, the glass cool through his t-shirt. Sungmin thinks he should stop, that he can't do this, but he kisses Kangin back, biting at his mouth. He's hungry, needy, after all this time.
It's Kangin who pulls back first, breathing hard. His hands flat against the glass, on either side of Sungmin's head. Sungmin reaches out, resting his hands against Kangin's hips. He rubs his fingers against the skin where Kangin's shirt's pulled up. They don't talk, the only sound their breathing. The couple in the room next door must've finished and the tv from the other room is off.
"I won't break." Sungmin finally says, his voice seems loud as it fills the silence.
Kangin leans back, letting his arms fall to his sides, dislodging Sungmin's hands. They don't touch now and Sungmin feels the familiar ache start to creep up his spine. It's loneliness, loss. He wants to reach out, to grab the front of Kangin's shirt and pull at him, yank him close, but he doesn't.
"I never thought …"
Sungmin laughs and it sounds bitter, even to his ears. "Everyone does."
Much to Sungmin's surprise, Kangin steps in, hands cupping his face. He kisses Sungmin hard, but it's still almost delicate. Sungmin steps in until he's pressed against Kangin. He tips his head up, opening his mouth and the kiss goes deeper, rougher. He's breathless, panting against Kangin's mouth.
"I've already broken. A long time ago." Sungmin whispers, his lips brushing against Kangin's.
Kangin freezes for a moment, just like Sungmin knew he would. But he doesn't pull away. Instead he slides his hands under Sungmin's shirt, fingers scraping against his back. Sungmin is lost, for a moment, head spinning. And then he thinks about that night in Paris. The lights of the Eiffel Tower from the hotel room, the dream Kyuhyun never woke up from. He thinks about their partner, their third. He thinks about the blood on the floor, the reasons he can't -- won't -- use a gun, except when he's dreaming.
And then Kangin's biting along his jaw, sucking along the skin. Down toward his neck, his collarbone. He's pulled the collar of the shirt back and suddenly Sungmin's not thinking about anything at all. He pulls his shirt off, lets Kangin push him onto the bed. He doesn't fight this because he finally realizes that he wants it.
He feels the layers around his heart, the ones he so carefully put up, start to peel as Kangin undresses him. As he arches up, their bodies twisting together. He'll deal with the fallout from this in the morning, but right now, when it's just the two of them and nothing but the sound of their breathing, he doesn't care about anything else.
The sun streams through the windows, waking Sungmin up before he's really ready. He shifts and realizes he's not alone in bed. He shifts again, rubbing his eyes with a hand and turns. He sees Kangin next to him, asleep. His mouth's hanging open a bit and he's snoring lightly. Sungmin's heart clenches, leaving him momentarily breathless. He has to get up, get away. He takes a deep, ragged, breath and the drags himself out of bed.
The bathroom is dark compared to the light of their hotel room. He tugs on a pair of boxers and flips the light on. It's not that he hasn't shared a bed with Kangin before, they've been in far worse circumstances than hotel room. Backs of vans, on park benches, even in homeless shelters. Freelance dream workers are always in demand, but finding the right employers isn't nearly as easy as it could be. Sungmin runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up briefly. He should get it cut, maybe dye it, but instead he just stares at his reflection in the mirror.
He looks tired, with the bags under his eyes and the lines of his past etched on his face. He turns on the faucet, grabbing a washcloth and then washing his face. He wants to cry, but he doesn't. He spent a week crying, after that night in Paris. A week when he didn't eat anything, crying for hours in the hospital room next to Kyuhyun, who wouldn't wake up, who won't wake up. Sungmin lifts his head, his face dripping with water, and closes his eyes. Kyuhyun, who won't ever wake up and whose parents won't let Sungmin near him.
When he opens his eyes, he turns the faucet off and grabs a towel from the counter, drying his face off. He glances at the mirror again and sees Kangin's reflection in the glass. For a half a second, Sungmin wants to spill everything. He wants to explain why Kangin found him, half-starved, providing the types of dreams no one should ever have, and not for the money he was making. Not that what he and Kangin do now, spying and stealing, is any better. But at least the dreams they create together don't leave him thinking about all the ways he could end his life.
Sometimes Sungmin wonders, as he stares at Kangin's face in the mirror, if Kangin knew just how close to the edge he'd been. He closes his eyes and thinks about the hotel room where Kangin found him. It'd been a fluke, at least as far as Sungmin knew. He was lying on a bed, the passive packed away and his client (a middle aged man) long gone. His money was in his duffel, along with the few clothes he still had. Everything else was still in Paris, in the flat he'll never go back to, not even in dreams he could create. Kangin was meant to be looking for someone else, maybe even Sungmin's client, he doesn't know and doesn't want to.
He feels Kangin's fingers against his face, along his neck, scraping lightly at his collarbone. He doesn't open his eyes and briefly wishes he'd thought to put a shirt on. But Kangin doesn't do anything else, except stroke his fingers against Sungmin's skin. He leans back, just slightly, and Kangin's there, warm and solid. The way he was the night Kangin found him wasting away in that hotel room.
Sungmin takes a long, slow, breath. He opens his eyes now, meets Kangin's gaze in the mirror. There are so many things he needs to say, wants to confess. He doesn't know how to make himself do it. If this was a dream, which he knows it's not, he could shift, turn into someone else and slip away from Kangin. But this is real, he is alive and he can't change who he is or hide his past. Kangin slides his hands down Sungmin's shoulders, slipping them around his waist. They're pressed together, facing each other only in the mirror.
"I …" Sungmin stops, but Kangin says nothing. And then, without closing his eyes, Sungmin finishes his sentence. "I killed someone. Weeks before you found me."
Kangin doesn't flinch, he doesn't freeze like he did when they were kissing. Maybe he already knew, but Sungmin's not so sure.
"I've killed plenty of people." Kangin says and it's so matter of fact that Sungmin can't help his own shudder.
Kangin's arms go tight around him, holding him close but not restraining. It's comforting in a way Sungmin forgot was even possible.
"Not. Not like I did." He whispers, eyes fluttering open.
Kangin doesn't say anything, he just waits Sungmin out, watching him.
Sungmin does turn away, he stares at Kangin's hands, laced together and pressed against his own stomach. He thinks about the sex they had last night and all the sex he hasn't had, since Kyuhyun. Or, he thinks wryly, all the sex he had that wasn't real. He wants to let himself relax in Kangin's arms, he wants to pretend that everything that happened in Paris was all a dream, that this is the only real world. But he knows better.
"There was …" He stops, lifting his gaze. Kangin's watching, waiting. Sungmin goes on. "His name was Kyuhyun. We'd been," he stops, swallowing hard. "We'd been together for a long time." This time he has to close his eyes, but the tears slide out anyway. "We got in over our heads and our third, his name …" His voice chokes and he can't say it out loud and so he doesn't, not yet. Maybe later, when he can confess with his eyes open.
Kangin's hands are moving against him, stroking his arms now, soothing and distracting, but Sungmin refuses to stop, he's made it this far. He swallows hard, his breathing ragged with tears he's trying not to shed.
"He betrayed us. It." Pause, and then. "Kyuhyun won't ever wake up. He's with his parents. In a hospital, somewhere. I killed him." His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes squeezed shut, but he's crying. Even after all this time, it's like it's happening all over again. "He left Kyuhyun where no one can get him back. And so I killed him." He repeats the words, then opens his eyes.
He searches Kangin's face, looking for something. Judgement, of some sort, but there's nothing. He twists away now, Kangin letting him go, until the last moment. He grabs Sungmin's wrist, turning him around.
"It doesn't have to be like this." Kangin says, finally.
Sungmin frowns, clearing his throat before he can reply. "What doesn't?"
"Your life. You don't have to go through this alone."
He tries to pull out of Kangin's grip, but not hard enough and Kangin doesn't let go. "I don't want your pity."
Kangin laughs, it's the same bitter laugh Sungmin gave the previous night. "It's not pity." He's quiet and then he's pulling Sungmin to him. "I've done horrible things, things I'll regret for as long as I'm alive." He stops for a moment, and then moves, both speaking and pulling at Sungmin. "But never once have I regretted walking into that room and finding you there."
Sungmin is speechless. He feels like he's going to pass out and he's not entirely sure why. And then he's throwing himself at Kangin, hitting him, but without malice. He's shouting and it takes him a moment to realize what he's yelling at Kangin.
"You should've left me. Do you know how hard this is? I wanted to die!"
Again, there's no shock on Kangin's face, no reaction at all. It makes Sungmin hit him harder, the words shifting to guttural sounds he didn't' even know he could make. And then Kangin's grabbing his hands, his wrists, restraining him and it's not gentle or delicate. It hurts and Sungmin struggles against the grip, but not to get out. He can feel the bruises already forming and then he's shoving Kangin up against the wall of the bathroom. Pressing their bodies together. He feels Kangin let go, feels his hands sliding around him, against his ass, pulling him closer. They're kissing, but unlike the previous night, it's different.
It's hard and rough and Sungmin's not worried that Kangin's going to be gentle with him. There's so much baggage between the two of them that Sungmin can feel it weighing them both down. And he doesn't care, because it feels delicious and wonderful. He grinds his hips against Kangin's, kissing him hard and biting. He feels this, every nip of Kangin's teeth, every scratch of his nails. He feels alive, finally, at last. And he doesn't think about Kyuhyun.
They fuck in the bathroom, facing the mirror. Sungmin half bent over the sink, Kangin's hand around his cock. Kangin's teeth against his shoulders, biting and leaving a trail of red marks that make Sungmin shudder and gasp. His own hands gripping the counter, knuckles white. He's breathless as Kangin thrusts, he is close, then coming. He feels Kangin come and finally closes his eyes. For a moment, then two, they remain pressed up against the sink. Then Kangin moves, pulling out but not away.
Sungmin turns, rubbing at his wrists, which are stiff. Kangin traces his fingers along Sungmin's jaw, then tips his head up, kissing him. Sungmin gets lost in the kiss as he presses his body against Kangin's. He feels Kangin's arms around him, he wants to bury his face against Kangin's chest, to pretend that he is safe, that everything will be all right. He knows it won't, but he wants to pretend.
Kangin breaks the kiss, resting his head against Sungmin's. The silence rings in Sungmin's ears, but he doesn't move. He feels Kangin's fingers along his shoulders and he turns his head, looking into the mirror. He catches Kangin's gaze and then drops his own to his back. He watches as Kangin traces along the bite marks, the scratches. He's grateful when there's no apology.
They don't leave the hotel until the next morning. Sungmin finds himself clinging onto their illusion of safety. Kangin sits on the bed, laptop in front of him. Sungmin curls up next to him, their bodies touching. Part of him wonders why it took them so long, but at the same time he knows why. Sometimes he regrets getting into the dream world and bringing Kyuhyun with him, but at least he doesn't dream anymore. He won't wake from nightmares where he's reliving that night in Paris. Instead, he thinks as his eyes slide shut, he'll have those nightmares during the day, when he's wide awake.
He doesn't know how much time's passed, but when he wakes up, he notices that it's getting dark outside. The laptop's perched on the edge of the bed, screen dark, but still on. He feels Kangin, lying next to him. He hears the tv and shifts until he's pressed up against Kangin's side. He doesn't know why it's okay to do this, to be with him. But when Kangin slips an arm around him, he decides not to question it. Sungmin thinks that this is far better than being alone all the time, and he's tired of being alone. Even if he'd wanted to die, before.
The news drones on and Sungmin slowly realizes that the voices are speaking English. He doesn't listen to the words, just the sounds. He focuses on Kangin's fingers, absently rubbing at his back. If he wanted, he could pretend that their lives were different. That neither of them have all that history behind them. And then Kangin turns the tv off, breaking the fantasy Sungmin's created.
"Nothing." He mutters, sounding annoyed.
Sungmin doesn't move. "What?" He sounds sleepy, but he doesn't care.
"About what happened, our flat." Kangin answers, shifting and then running his fingers through Sungmin's hair.
Sungmin shifts, yawning a little and sitting up. "We're still in England?"
Kangin nods. He reaches out, tugging Sungmin back to him. "But they won't find us here."
Sungmin nods, letting himself be pulled into Kangin's arms. He closes his eyes, but doesn't fall asleep again. He listens to Kangin's breathing, his heartbeat.
"They didn't get what they were looking for, though." Sungmin finally says.
Kangin's voice is a hard when he replies. "They won't."
"What?" Sungmin starts, half sitting up.
Kangin holds Sungmin's gaze for a long moment before replying. "We got what we came for. And then." Kangin stops.
Sungmin's eyes narrow and he tries to remember what happened. There were gunshots and obviously the gun against his own head and then … his thoughts trail off. He looks at Kangin, not really surprised, but a little bit all the same.
"You …" He half-whispers.
Kangin's cupping his face, kissing him. "I had to save you."
"Oh." Sungmin says, but it's such a soft word, full of so much emotion, that he can barely get it out.
And then Kangin's arms are around him and he's crawling into his lap, pressing his face against Kangin's neck. He's tired of being weak, tired of running and hiding, tired of being lonely and afraid. But right now, in Kangin's arms, he's all of those things. He curls up, letting Kangin hold him. But he doesn't cry, not now.
"I'll never let them hurt you." Kangin whispers the words against Sungmin's hair.
Silence swallows them, then Sungmin pulls back, just enough to hold Kangin's gaze. He swallows hard, he can almost smell the way the air tasted, back in Paris. But before he can say anything, Kangin's leaning in, kissing him roughly, full on the mouth. Sungmin breaks the kiss, but doesn't move away. His lips brush against Kangin's when he speaks.
"You'll …" He pauses, breathing against Kangin's mouth, then goes on. "You'll have to teach me how to use a real gun. So I can make sure they don't hurt you." The words are a whisper and the only thing he can taste in his mouth is Kangin.
Rating: R
Pairing: Sungmin/Kangin
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Warning: Minor character death-type events (off screen, but discussed).
Summary: An Inception AU. Sungmin remembers past events and tries to move on, with Kangin's help.
Notes: Thank you so much to H, lixia84, and glitterburn for their tireless support and encouragement. This is my first foray into kpop fandom. The title of this fic is from a Wouter Hamel song.
---
Kangin is ex-military. Ex as in formally, used to be a member of. But Sungmin, who is the opposite of everything involving the military (except for the use of a gun, and aside from that one night, but especially now, it's only in the dreamworld), thinks that maybe sometimes Kangin forgets that he's freelance. It's scary in the dreamworld, because Kangin doesn't hold back, but when they're only half-awake from dreaming and Sungmin's got a gun to his head and Kangin's just fucking losing it, it's even more terrifying.
Afterward, when they're alone and Kangin's destroyed everything at their old flat, Sungmin has his own breakdown.
"I can't. I can't … when you're like this." He can't finish his sentences, can't think straight. He watches Kangin pacing, ignoring him without actually ignoring him.
Then Kangin stops, mid-stride, and whirls around. Hands on his hips and Sungmin feels like Kangin's looking right through him. "What did you want me to do?" He snaps and the words pierce Sungmin's heart, through all those layers he's used to guard his heart from breaking all over again.
"I …" He stops, looks at the floor.
He hears Kangin cross the room toward him, feels him sit on the edge of the hotel bed. He doesn't look up, doesn't want to see the disappointment on Kangin's face, the worry. Kangin doesn't say anything and Sungmin doesn't either, they just sit there in silence.
The hotel walls are thin, he can hear the tv in the room on the far side of the wall and the couple having sex on the other. He listens and tries not to think. He stares at his hands, twisting his fingers together, around each other. He feels Kangin move again, doesn't look up, but then Kangin's there, kneeling in front of him.
"Sungmin." Kangin's voice is rough and against his better judgement, Sungmin looks up.
He looks away, but Kangin's fingers brush against his jaw, turning his head back. "What?" Sungmin winces a little, he sounds little, too young, and almost petulant.
"I couldn't let them."
Sungmin bites his bottom lip. There are hundreds of secrets he's never told Kangin. Stories about his past, about the person he used to be, before he got mixed up in dreams. Before he met the people who changed his life. The people who introduced him to dreaming sharing. Just like he knows that Kangin has secrets that don't let him sleep through the night, not in the three years they've known each other.
"What?" He asks again, even though he knows the answer.
Kangin's gaze is intense, hard. It bores into Sungmin and he wants to look away, but he doesn't. "I couldn't let them hurt you."
There's a twist, somewhere in his stomach. He half pushes Kangin away. Then stands up and walking to the window. He feels like he's drowning, like the entire world's collapsing in on him. It's like every dream he worries he won't wake up from, like all the memories he can hide in a box but never escape. He presses his hands against the glass, looking outside. He doesn't even remember what city they're in. He can't even tell if he's awake. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the key chain he keeps there. The music note twists and twists, then slows to a stop. He turns.
"Sungmin …"
Shoving his totem back in his pocket, he twists his fingers in the hem of his shirt, but says nothing. Instead he watches Kangin walk toward him. He feels a rush, when Kangin stops so close that his breath is hot on Sungmin's face. He thinks about everything in his past, about the last boy he fell in love with. About the dreams that you can't ever wake up from. Then he feels Kangin's hands on his face, gentle, as if Sungmin could break.
Kangin leans in and when Sungmin should push him away, he doesn't. The kiss is hard, rough. Kangin presses him up against the window, the glass cool through his t-shirt. Sungmin thinks he should stop, that he can't do this, but he kisses Kangin back, biting at his mouth. He's hungry, needy, after all this time.
It's Kangin who pulls back first, breathing hard. His hands flat against the glass, on either side of Sungmin's head. Sungmin reaches out, resting his hands against Kangin's hips. He rubs his fingers against the skin where Kangin's shirt's pulled up. They don't talk, the only sound their breathing. The couple in the room next door must've finished and the tv from the other room is off.
"I won't break." Sungmin finally says, his voice seems loud as it fills the silence.
Kangin leans back, letting his arms fall to his sides, dislodging Sungmin's hands. They don't touch now and Sungmin feels the familiar ache start to creep up his spine. It's loneliness, loss. He wants to reach out, to grab the front of Kangin's shirt and pull at him, yank him close, but he doesn't.
"I never thought …"
Sungmin laughs and it sounds bitter, even to his ears. "Everyone does."
Much to Sungmin's surprise, Kangin steps in, hands cupping his face. He kisses Sungmin hard, but it's still almost delicate. Sungmin steps in until he's pressed against Kangin. He tips his head up, opening his mouth and the kiss goes deeper, rougher. He's breathless, panting against Kangin's mouth.
"I've already broken. A long time ago." Sungmin whispers, his lips brushing against Kangin's.
Kangin freezes for a moment, just like Sungmin knew he would. But he doesn't pull away. Instead he slides his hands under Sungmin's shirt, fingers scraping against his back. Sungmin is lost, for a moment, head spinning. And then he thinks about that night in Paris. The lights of the Eiffel Tower from the hotel room, the dream Kyuhyun never woke up from. He thinks about their partner, their third. He thinks about the blood on the floor, the reasons he can't -- won't -- use a gun, except when he's dreaming.
And then Kangin's biting along his jaw, sucking along the skin. Down toward his neck, his collarbone. He's pulled the collar of the shirt back and suddenly Sungmin's not thinking about anything at all. He pulls his shirt off, lets Kangin push him onto the bed. He doesn't fight this because he finally realizes that he wants it.
He feels the layers around his heart, the ones he so carefully put up, start to peel as Kangin undresses him. As he arches up, their bodies twisting together. He'll deal with the fallout from this in the morning, but right now, when it's just the two of them and nothing but the sound of their breathing, he doesn't care about anything else.
The sun streams through the windows, waking Sungmin up before he's really ready. He shifts and realizes he's not alone in bed. He shifts again, rubbing his eyes with a hand and turns. He sees Kangin next to him, asleep. His mouth's hanging open a bit and he's snoring lightly. Sungmin's heart clenches, leaving him momentarily breathless. He has to get up, get away. He takes a deep, ragged, breath and the drags himself out of bed.
The bathroom is dark compared to the light of their hotel room. He tugs on a pair of boxers and flips the light on. It's not that he hasn't shared a bed with Kangin before, they've been in far worse circumstances than hotel room. Backs of vans, on park benches, even in homeless shelters. Freelance dream workers are always in demand, but finding the right employers isn't nearly as easy as it could be. Sungmin runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up briefly. He should get it cut, maybe dye it, but instead he just stares at his reflection in the mirror.
He looks tired, with the bags under his eyes and the lines of his past etched on his face. He turns on the faucet, grabbing a washcloth and then washing his face. He wants to cry, but he doesn't. He spent a week crying, after that night in Paris. A week when he didn't eat anything, crying for hours in the hospital room next to Kyuhyun, who wouldn't wake up, who won't wake up. Sungmin lifts his head, his face dripping with water, and closes his eyes. Kyuhyun, who won't ever wake up and whose parents won't let Sungmin near him.
When he opens his eyes, he turns the faucet off and grabs a towel from the counter, drying his face off. He glances at the mirror again and sees Kangin's reflection in the glass. For a half a second, Sungmin wants to spill everything. He wants to explain why Kangin found him, half-starved, providing the types of dreams no one should ever have, and not for the money he was making. Not that what he and Kangin do now, spying and stealing, is any better. But at least the dreams they create together don't leave him thinking about all the ways he could end his life.
Sometimes Sungmin wonders, as he stares at Kangin's face in the mirror, if Kangin knew just how close to the edge he'd been. He closes his eyes and thinks about the hotel room where Kangin found him. It'd been a fluke, at least as far as Sungmin knew. He was lying on a bed, the passive packed away and his client (a middle aged man) long gone. His money was in his duffel, along with the few clothes he still had. Everything else was still in Paris, in the flat he'll never go back to, not even in dreams he could create. Kangin was meant to be looking for someone else, maybe even Sungmin's client, he doesn't know and doesn't want to.
He feels Kangin's fingers against his face, along his neck, scraping lightly at his collarbone. He doesn't open his eyes and briefly wishes he'd thought to put a shirt on. But Kangin doesn't do anything else, except stroke his fingers against Sungmin's skin. He leans back, just slightly, and Kangin's there, warm and solid. The way he was the night Kangin found him wasting away in that hotel room.
Sungmin takes a long, slow, breath. He opens his eyes now, meets Kangin's gaze in the mirror. There are so many things he needs to say, wants to confess. He doesn't know how to make himself do it. If this was a dream, which he knows it's not, he could shift, turn into someone else and slip away from Kangin. But this is real, he is alive and he can't change who he is or hide his past. Kangin slides his hands down Sungmin's shoulders, slipping them around his waist. They're pressed together, facing each other only in the mirror.
"I …" Sungmin stops, but Kangin says nothing. And then, without closing his eyes, Sungmin finishes his sentence. "I killed someone. Weeks before you found me."
Kangin doesn't flinch, he doesn't freeze like he did when they were kissing. Maybe he already knew, but Sungmin's not so sure.
"I've killed plenty of people." Kangin says and it's so matter of fact that Sungmin can't help his own shudder.
Kangin's arms go tight around him, holding him close but not restraining. It's comforting in a way Sungmin forgot was even possible.
"Not. Not like I did." He whispers, eyes fluttering open.
Kangin doesn't say anything, he just waits Sungmin out, watching him.
Sungmin does turn away, he stares at Kangin's hands, laced together and pressed against his own stomach. He thinks about the sex they had last night and all the sex he hasn't had, since Kyuhyun. Or, he thinks wryly, all the sex he had that wasn't real. He wants to let himself relax in Kangin's arms, he wants to pretend that everything that happened in Paris was all a dream, that this is the only real world. But he knows better.
"There was …" He stops, lifting his gaze. Kangin's watching, waiting. Sungmin goes on. "His name was Kyuhyun. We'd been," he stops, swallowing hard. "We'd been together for a long time." This time he has to close his eyes, but the tears slide out anyway. "We got in over our heads and our third, his name …" His voice chokes and he can't say it out loud and so he doesn't, not yet. Maybe later, when he can confess with his eyes open.
Kangin's hands are moving against him, stroking his arms now, soothing and distracting, but Sungmin refuses to stop, he's made it this far. He swallows hard, his breathing ragged with tears he's trying not to shed.
"He betrayed us. It." Pause, and then. "Kyuhyun won't ever wake up. He's with his parents. In a hospital, somewhere. I killed him." His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes squeezed shut, but he's crying. Even after all this time, it's like it's happening all over again. "He left Kyuhyun where no one can get him back. And so I killed him." He repeats the words, then opens his eyes.
He searches Kangin's face, looking for something. Judgement, of some sort, but there's nothing. He twists away now, Kangin letting him go, until the last moment. He grabs Sungmin's wrist, turning him around.
"It doesn't have to be like this." Kangin says, finally.
Sungmin frowns, clearing his throat before he can reply. "What doesn't?"
"Your life. You don't have to go through this alone."
He tries to pull out of Kangin's grip, but not hard enough and Kangin doesn't let go. "I don't want your pity."
Kangin laughs, it's the same bitter laugh Sungmin gave the previous night. "It's not pity." He's quiet and then he's pulling Sungmin to him. "I've done horrible things, things I'll regret for as long as I'm alive." He stops for a moment, and then moves, both speaking and pulling at Sungmin. "But never once have I regretted walking into that room and finding you there."
Sungmin is speechless. He feels like he's going to pass out and he's not entirely sure why. And then he's throwing himself at Kangin, hitting him, but without malice. He's shouting and it takes him a moment to realize what he's yelling at Kangin.
"You should've left me. Do you know how hard this is? I wanted to die!"
Again, there's no shock on Kangin's face, no reaction at all. It makes Sungmin hit him harder, the words shifting to guttural sounds he didn't' even know he could make. And then Kangin's grabbing his hands, his wrists, restraining him and it's not gentle or delicate. It hurts and Sungmin struggles against the grip, but not to get out. He can feel the bruises already forming and then he's shoving Kangin up against the wall of the bathroom. Pressing their bodies together. He feels Kangin let go, feels his hands sliding around him, against his ass, pulling him closer. They're kissing, but unlike the previous night, it's different.
It's hard and rough and Sungmin's not worried that Kangin's going to be gentle with him. There's so much baggage between the two of them that Sungmin can feel it weighing them both down. And he doesn't care, because it feels delicious and wonderful. He grinds his hips against Kangin's, kissing him hard and biting. He feels this, every nip of Kangin's teeth, every scratch of his nails. He feels alive, finally, at last. And he doesn't think about Kyuhyun.
They fuck in the bathroom, facing the mirror. Sungmin half bent over the sink, Kangin's hand around his cock. Kangin's teeth against his shoulders, biting and leaving a trail of red marks that make Sungmin shudder and gasp. His own hands gripping the counter, knuckles white. He's breathless as Kangin thrusts, he is close, then coming. He feels Kangin come and finally closes his eyes. For a moment, then two, they remain pressed up against the sink. Then Kangin moves, pulling out but not away.
Sungmin turns, rubbing at his wrists, which are stiff. Kangin traces his fingers along Sungmin's jaw, then tips his head up, kissing him. Sungmin gets lost in the kiss as he presses his body against Kangin's. He feels Kangin's arms around him, he wants to bury his face against Kangin's chest, to pretend that he is safe, that everything will be all right. He knows it won't, but he wants to pretend.
Kangin breaks the kiss, resting his head against Sungmin's. The silence rings in Sungmin's ears, but he doesn't move. He feels Kangin's fingers along his shoulders and he turns his head, looking into the mirror. He catches Kangin's gaze and then drops his own to his back. He watches as Kangin traces along the bite marks, the scratches. He's grateful when there's no apology.
They don't leave the hotel until the next morning. Sungmin finds himself clinging onto their illusion of safety. Kangin sits on the bed, laptop in front of him. Sungmin curls up next to him, their bodies touching. Part of him wonders why it took them so long, but at the same time he knows why. Sometimes he regrets getting into the dream world and bringing Kyuhyun with him, but at least he doesn't dream anymore. He won't wake from nightmares where he's reliving that night in Paris. Instead, he thinks as his eyes slide shut, he'll have those nightmares during the day, when he's wide awake.
He doesn't know how much time's passed, but when he wakes up, he notices that it's getting dark outside. The laptop's perched on the edge of the bed, screen dark, but still on. He feels Kangin, lying next to him. He hears the tv and shifts until he's pressed up against Kangin's side. He doesn't know why it's okay to do this, to be with him. But when Kangin slips an arm around him, he decides not to question it. Sungmin thinks that this is far better than being alone all the time, and he's tired of being alone. Even if he'd wanted to die, before.
The news drones on and Sungmin slowly realizes that the voices are speaking English. He doesn't listen to the words, just the sounds. He focuses on Kangin's fingers, absently rubbing at his back. If he wanted, he could pretend that their lives were different. That neither of them have all that history behind them. And then Kangin turns the tv off, breaking the fantasy Sungmin's created.
"Nothing." He mutters, sounding annoyed.
Sungmin doesn't move. "What?" He sounds sleepy, but he doesn't care.
"About what happened, our flat." Kangin answers, shifting and then running his fingers through Sungmin's hair.
Sungmin shifts, yawning a little and sitting up. "We're still in England?"
Kangin nods. He reaches out, tugging Sungmin back to him. "But they won't find us here."
Sungmin nods, letting himself be pulled into Kangin's arms. He closes his eyes, but doesn't fall asleep again. He listens to Kangin's breathing, his heartbeat.
"They didn't get what they were looking for, though." Sungmin finally says.
Kangin's voice is a hard when he replies. "They won't."
"What?" Sungmin starts, half sitting up.
Kangin holds Sungmin's gaze for a long moment before replying. "We got what we came for. And then." Kangin stops.
Sungmin's eyes narrow and he tries to remember what happened. There were gunshots and obviously the gun against his own head and then … his thoughts trail off. He looks at Kangin, not really surprised, but a little bit all the same.
"You …" He half-whispers.
Kangin's cupping his face, kissing him. "I had to save you."
"Oh." Sungmin says, but it's such a soft word, full of so much emotion, that he can barely get it out.
And then Kangin's arms are around him and he's crawling into his lap, pressing his face against Kangin's neck. He's tired of being weak, tired of running and hiding, tired of being lonely and afraid. But right now, in Kangin's arms, he's all of those things. He curls up, letting Kangin hold him. But he doesn't cry, not now.
"I'll never let them hurt you." Kangin whispers the words against Sungmin's hair.
Silence swallows them, then Sungmin pulls back, just enough to hold Kangin's gaze. He swallows hard, he can almost smell the way the air tasted, back in Paris. But before he can say anything, Kangin's leaning in, kissing him roughly, full on the mouth. Sungmin breaks the kiss, but doesn't move away. His lips brush against Kangin's when he speaks.
"You'll …" He pauses, breathing against Kangin's mouth, then goes on. "You'll have to teach me how to use a real gun. So I can make sure they don't hurt you." The words are a whisper and the only thing he can taste in his mouth is Kangin.