Half Acre (2/?)
Title: Half Acre
Author: peigurrrl
Pairing: TaeKey, minor Jongho
Rating: R
Genre: Romance
Summary: Lee Taemin is unknown in the social web that is high school and Kim Kibum is likely the most well known. But the world is a bigger place than that, it's a place where anything is justifiable to protect that which is precious. Taemin is more than aware of this and the last thing he wants is to be the one teaching Kibum this.
Disclaimer: The other day, SHINee walked up to me and said, 'So hey, do you want to own us?' and obviously I said, 'Hell to the yes!' but then I woke up. I don't own the song, either. Half Acre belongs to Hem.
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“There wasn't any transporting in your assignment, Taemin, so do you care to explain why there's a person handcuffed to your bed?”
“Nope. Go away, he's waking up soon.”
“I'm not done talking to you!”
“That's great. Oh hey, is that Kan calling for you?”
“What?! Shit- don't tell him I was here!”
Taemin rolled his eyes as Leeu scrambled from his room, even though there really was no impending Kan doom. It was such an effective threat though, he mused, as his eyes flickered over to the motionless form that actually wouldn't be waking up for another hour, if he had judged the dose correctly. Which he always did. Taemin hadn't made a miscalculation in four years, most likely because miscalculations didn't end well. When one was in the Mafia, repeated mistakes tended towards death, which was perhaps why he had become such a quick learner.
Checking the handcuffs securing the black-haired boy to Taemin's rarely-slept on bed, the red-head was satisfied to find them secure, and, thus reassured, left to take out his contacts and check on the state of his 'warning'. Despite what Key may have thought, Taemin's intention had not been to kill the teenager whose dive he had sabotaged. The boy's injury was a warning to the father, a man of political importance who had, as of late, been resisting the demands of Taemin's 'employer'. It was a valiant effort, but he would give in. They all did.
Stripping his clothes off to wash the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol off his person, his eyes averted themselves from the bathroom's mirror in a practiced motion going in and leaving the washroom, still covered in a layer of damp over indelible scars. Taemin was rummaging through his closet, towel wrapped loosely around his hips and crayola crayon red hair darkened to maybe a more brick-red shade from the water running streaks down and over his pale skin to drop onto the floor, when his guest stirred, bringing the thin body spinning around, hands clutching a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, naturally dark eyes narrowing in to observe Kibum.
“It's about time the drug wore off, are you finally waking up?” he whispered quietly, mostly to himself and only barely to the restrained form on his bed. When Kibum didn't answer, Taemin shrugged and pulled boxers on under his towel before letting said towel hit the floor with a damp thud. The underwear was quickly followed by the t-shirt and a dry towel over his shoulders to save his shirt from his still-wet hair.
“What happened to you?” came the raspy croak of a throat closed from sleep. “More importantly, why am I handcuffed to this bed?”
Turning on the ball of his feet, Taemin let a cruel smile spread on his face before tripping lightly towards the bed and pulling a chair from his desk to sit on, knowing better than to sit on the bed where Kibum could very likely kick him or some such. The redhead pulled his handgun from the desk as well, angling it just so the light would catch on the little marks on the barrel for the older teenager to see, then began to clean it with the edge of his t-shirt, more concerned with his gun than clothes by far, and pointedly ignoring the fear gleaming in Key's dark orbs.
“This isn't my only gun, by the way. This is just my newest. It's policy to dispose of your firearm after twenty kills, just to prevent the police from throwing you behind bars for too long. I've got six more with this one before I have to get rid of it, which is a pity, since it's lasted the longest,” Taemin explained, fingers running over each groove slowly. “Now, Key, the reason I'm telling you this is not because I plan on killing you. I don't like unnecessary bloodshed and I think you'll keep my secrets, right?”
“But-”
“Besides, that boy who fell, Kye Chinho? He's not dead. He's comatose but his prognosis is good. Given his father complies with our demands, anyway. You didn't really think I would kill him, did you?”
Kibum raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, eying the gun with an 'are you stupid?' expression. Taemin laughed brightly, an ingrained, mechanical response as he set the gun down without relinquishing his hold. “Oh come on. Killing people usually isn't in my job description, except for when it is. Still. You agree you're not going to tell the police about me, don't you? I would be very upset if you did.”
“It's not like you could get away with it, even if I didn't report you. My mother's probably worried sick!” Key argued as he tested his bonds to no avail. “Besides, you can't think I was the only one who saw you ruin the kid's jump. I know I'm the most important, but there were tons of kids at that party who probably saw you. Your red hair sticks out like a sore thumb.”
Taemin scoffed, “Don't be ridiculous. I've only been doing this job since I was barely out of diapers. You think I'd've survived this long if I couldn't do it right by now? Your mother's not concerned and you're the only witness.” His eyes watched with amusement when the older teen's face suggested he might scream and only said, “Don't bother calling for help. This entire building is owned by my boss, and all the rooms are soundproof. In fact, that being the case, why don't we have some fun?”
“I'm not going to sleep with murdering trash!” Kibum spat, glaring at his captor the whole while. He'd hoped to insult but instead the red-haired boy shrugged, as if he was saying, 'your loss' and rose from his seat, rolling his eyes when the black-haired boy flinched.
“I'm not a rapist, just a murderer,” Taemin said as he opened the door of the room, leaving to let Kibum sweat on the bed when he returned with a syringe and a man much larger than the slight red head. “He's ready to go home now, Kangin.”
“He's not gonna squeal the moment we let him loose?”
“I mixed a little bit of amnesiac in here. Well, maybe a lot. He'll be lucky to remember his name tomorrow morning. Besides, if he doesn't- we'll treat him like everyone else, right? Warning, a punishment, then execution. You're an only child, aren't you, Key? Your mother would be devastated to lose her firstborn, don't you agree?”
Taemin's smirk grew with Kibum's fear, his eyes- now clear of the blue contacts and looking more artificial than ever- menacing as he popped the cap off the needle and flooded Kibum's system with drugs for the second time that night. As his muscles relaxed and he lost strength in his limbs, the handcuffs were released and his body thrown over a bulky shoulder with ease, a gruff voice muttering, “He must like you to not kill you like he does everyone else.” How kind of him. Was Kibum's last, decidedly sarcastic thought.
-
He woke up to a voice yelling at him to stop lazing about in bed on top of a blinding headache. God, how much did I drink? and then Who am I again?
“Kim Kibum, it's three in the afternoon! I don't care if it's a Sunday, you get out of bed right now!”
“Getting up, mom,” Kibum replied weakly, palm pressed to his forehead in effort to stave off the throbbing pain. What the hell had he done last night? It was unusual for him to be unable to remember anything after a night of drinking, he was the almighty Kim Kibum after all, blackouts just didn't happen to him. In fact, the last thing he remembered was arriving at- whose party?- Nicole's house and then- nothing. Nada. He couldn't have drunk that much, could he have?
His pink phone buzzed as a text arrived and he flipped it open, managing to roll himself out of his bed and onto the ground at the same time.
To: Kibum
From: Dinopuppy
HELP ME PICK OUT
SOMETHING FOR
ME AND MINHO'S
ONE WEEK
ANNIVERSARY!!1!1!
Actually, considering the absolute hell his so-called best friend had put him through these past few days, it wasn't entirely impossible. An angry 'NO' was all Jonghyun got before Kibum somehow wobbled into the bathroom with every intent of washing the hangover right out of himself. No better time to try that new bath bomb he had bought than now, anyway.
-
“You really don't remember anything from Nicole's party?” Jonghyun asked anxiously, for once talking to Kibum with Minho out of school for a soccer competition.
Kibum glared at his best friend, trying not to shout at the begging face in front of him. “No, I really don't remember anything! How many times are you going to make me repeat myself? Really, how dare you, Kim Jonghyun?! Pay attention the first time I say something!” Presented with a kicked puppy face, copyright Jonghyun 1990, he sighed and asked a tired, “Why do you want to know?”
“'Cause everyone's talking about the kid who almost died!” exploded the senior. “Man, you were at that party, how do you not know? There's no way you were so drunk you blacked out, you've never blacked out before.”
He frowned, forgetting something like that was truly unusual when it concerned his amazing person. For the life of him, however, he simply couldn't remember and it was so annoying. So annoyi-
“Who's that kid?”
“Who, the one with bright red hair?”
“Yeah, him.”
“Some freshman, I don't know. Why?”
“I just... feel like I've seen him before.”
“That's Lee Taemin,” Jinki said, appearing out of nowhere to identify the lanky, baby-faced student whose hair had caught Kibum's attention. “His file said he was fifteen, and a freshman. He got held back a year when he was hospitalized for six months in seventh grade. He transferred in half way through last week, since he was in the hospital again. I guess he has poor health.” The two stared at their student body president in amazement that he knew something not chicken related.
Then eyes- somehow Kibum had been expecting a crayon blue or bottomless black for some reason- they were a warm brown when they met with Kibum's own and he was startled to find himself thinking that the boy was wearing color contacts, even though it was perfectly normal to find an Asian with brown eyes. When a dark smile, perfectly suited to the puffy pink lips and gleaming white teeth for some odd reason or the other, found itself marring the sweet countenance, Kibum was hit with a cold chill.
Key.
-scream your name, hyung.
He'll be lucky to remember his name-
-kill you like he does everyone else.
An involuntary shudder passed through Kibum's frame as the redhead turned away to keep walking and a frightened whisper of, “I don't think he's in the hospital for being sick,” slipped through lips suddenly drained of color. A large, warm hand grasped his shoulder as Jonghyun peered at him with concern.
“You look green, Kibummie. Maybe you should go to the nurse and lie down for a bit.”
Nodding in mute agreement, his shaky hands collected his belongings before heading down to the clinic and convincing the nurse with ease that he needed to lie down before he vomited his breakfast in the middle of the hallway or something equally disgusting. Setting his bedazzled messenger bag at the head of the cot he usually would die before sleeping on- there was no way the thing was sanitary- his trembling legs all but collapsed underneath him and he cradled his perfectly coiffed head of hair in a pair of hands ice-cold from the way a nervous sweat had suddenly broken out over his entire body.
Lee Taemin's angelic face, chubby cheeks, cold expression, dead eyes plagued his dreams when Kibum closed his eyes for an uneasy rest. The amnesiac that had been mixed with his sedative had fragmented his memories of the party two nights ago into a veritable kaleidoscope of anxiety, panic, and fear. He couldn't remember the words said exactly, nor what it was that he was forgetting, only that Lee Taemin was dangerous, so dangerous, and not at all Kibum's type. Kibum had always liked those people like Jinki, responsible, mature, solid, yet here was the red haired boy all sharp corners and
wicked, insincere smiles invading his mind and dreams.
“I just need a bandage, seonsaengnim. It's not that serious of a cut.”
“Taemin, you always say it's not serious even when you're practically bleeding to death. Don't think I didn't forget that time you got stabbed and didn't even tell me- we had to hospitalize you!”
“Victoria-noona, don't talk so loudly. I'm supposed to be a normal student right now- and it's just a paper cut. Really. I didn't want to agitate it is all.”
“There's no one here to hear us anyway- well, there is one but the poor dear looked ready to pass out when he walked in here, I doubt he can hear us. Here, do you like piropiro bandages?”
“That's fine. Who's the studen- Kim Kibum? Ah...”
“Oh, is he the one Leeu wouldn't stop talking about? I heard it was someone from this school but-”
“Leeu-hyung gossips like an old woman. And I need a pass back to class.”
“Still, you haven't let a witness go in- well, ever. Where are you going?”
“History.”
“Okay, here you go. See you.”
Kibum blinked. What had that strange conversation-
“I know you're awake, Kibum-ah. You feeling up to a little talk?” A pretty face poked around the curtain veiling his bed and Kibum frowned. No, he did not feel up to a little talk with the school nurse about something that he didn't think really concerned him. Apparently, Victoria could tell as she smiled knowingly. “Well, I suppose the only choice he had was to hit you with a memory suppressant.”
“What?!” Kibum shot up at this- who the hell would dare to drug him? And why? The conversation he had heard earlier clicked into place, though, and, “I think I'm gonna be sick.”
Victoria very kindly provided him with a wastebasket to puke in.
“Now,” she started, “Taeminnie will probably be very angry with me for telling you all this but, well- He's kind of a sad case. If you could be his friend, that'd be really good.”
“Yeah, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends. Hell, our relationship might even be right up there with Eisenhower and Hitler's, we'll be such good friends,” Kibum bit back sarcastically. He- well, actually, he wasn't opposed to being friends with the red-haired freshman. Inexplicably, he was curious, too curious, about the boy who he saw with a myriad of scars decorating a pale white body. No, as far as he knew, he hadn't seen Lee Taemin naked before but given what he'd been told about a memory-suppressant drug, maybe he had. What he was sure about though, was that, “I don't think he wants to be friends with me which is ridiculous, I know.”
“Hardly,” Victoria replied archly, “I think Taemin quite likes you. After all, you're still alive.”
Well if that wasn't the worst basis for being friends with someone, Kibum wasn't sure what was. He said as much to her and she in return chortled.
“No, really. Taemin well- he's an orphan. He joined the Family-”
“Family?”
“Family. Mafia Family-” Victoria explained before finding herself interrupted again.
“Oh my God, I'm getting involved with the freaking Mafia. My poor mother-”
“So you agree to be his friend?” she asked with a triumphant smile on her face.
“NO! Well I mean, yeah, I don't mind but-”
“That's great!”
“Wait-!”
“Hm?”
“Tell me. Tell me about him first.” Because there was no way in hell Kibum was just going to suddenly be all buddy-buddy with this kid who brought to mind guns and blood and eyes like the darkest obsidian.
Victoria shrugged, “Well he's technically my sunbae, so I can't tell you anything you don't already know, but...” Turning away from Kibum, she wrote on a piece of paper until ten minutes later, “Ta-da! Lee Taemin's twenty-four hour schedule, this week only.” Handing it over with a wink, she said, “It's not often stalking that boy is made so easy. His schedule is actually super chaotic because we're always trying to throw off any of his would-be stalkers but there you are. Aren't you lucky?”
Looking down to see times and places all written in neat, chronological order, Kibum would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed that his school nurse had managed to remember the thing which, sans school, had nothing in common. There were several dead spots- Victoria had written them in as being too high security or too high danger for Kibum to attend- but otherwise, following around the red-haired freshman would be almost too easy.
-
So far, he had learned that Taemin dealt drugs. That was putting it lightly. He oversaw the production and distribution of everything from marijuana to LSD in their city and a few others, Kibum bet. He made sure the drug dens that appeared to be under his jurisdiction never ran low on customers and he used himself as bait, promising boys and girls and men and women alike golden bubbles full of air and addiction.
Taemin also collected money- and that was Kibum putting the brutal beating he had witnessed over a few thousand dollars lightly- and negotiated with dangerous people. Kibum wasn't stupid, just because he and his came from the better part of town didn't mean he couldn't recognize an inter-city gang when he saw one.
Taemin had no problem putting a few holes in someone who offended him, was what Kibum thought the first time a man drew a gun on the red-haired teen and had his kneecaps shot out. He liked to think, though, that he could see something akin to fear flickering in those round black eyes- Taemin didn't wear contacts for the dirtier jobs- but he hadn't noticed that until he managed to stop puking his guts up. Not that Kibum would ever confess to vomiting at the sight of a fifteen year old heartlessly shooting down people probably twice his age and size. He hadn't seen Taemin kill anyone yet, though. He wasn't sure if he was reassured by that or not.
It appeared that kidnapping was also perfectly normal as Kibum watched Taemin charm a girl into a car with blacked-out windows. The car had sped off not even half a minute after the doors locked and Taemin hadn't been driving- he'd slid into the backseat with the girl. Kibum hadn't followed them after that because it was blacked out on the schedule Victoria had given him.
It was now Saturday and there was only one day left on the schedule Victoria had given him. Kibum wasn't sure if he was obsessed or insane to be following Lee Taemin around all these days- he rather thought he didn't want to know what Victoria's definition of too dangerous was if safe was almost getting caught in the middle of a three way gang war- only that he was fascinated with the way the teenager transitioned from a perfectly normal high schooler with 'friends' to a dangerous, ice cold criminal.
Maybe it was time for Kibum to admit he was a bit of a masochist.
Creeping into the dark clubhouse like the master at creeping Kibum had become over the past week, he barely managed to catch a bright flash of red hair through the opening between two curtains veiling a downstairs in the dark building. Kibum wanted to hit something- it had been difficult enough getting past the security for just the normal club and now he had to get through some VIP part? Was he really that curious about this freshman who in one week had probably committed more crimes than the entire school had, combined?
A bewitching smile on the face of a red-haired corpse flashed through his mind and Kibum decided yes, yes he was that curious.
Pulling out every ounce of 'I belong here' and 'I own this places, bitches' attitude that he had- there was a lot- Kibum made his way to the curtains, was stopped by the guards who didn't believe a kid wearing checkered skinny jeans and a hoodie with bright pink stitching belonged in a room where the majority of the occupants were decked out in formal evening wear.
“Look, I'm just looking for my mom, okay?” Kibum lied. “She hasn't paid alimony for my little brother in months. I swear I won't cause a commotion.”
He was impressed when the guards bought it. They asked, “What's her name?” he rattled off some name that he'd heard Taemin say a few days ago, they checked, it was on the list, presto, he was in.
God, Kibum loved himself.
Settling himself in the back, out of sight of people, he swallowed thickly as he discovered the newest in Taemin's expansive skill set. There was a stage laid out before the entire audience, with bright lights to make it difficult for the performers on stage to see the audience shrouded in darkness. There was also a little podium just off center, to which a masked figure stepped up to, clearing his throat and checking mic before announcing what exactly the event was.
Kibum hoped to God he didn't throw up over this too. It- it was basically human trafficking, wasn't it? These people-
“Three hundred.”
“Three hundred and fifty.”
“Four hundred.”
“Four hundred and eighty.”
“Going once, going twice-”
“Five hundred.”
“No more offers? Sold for five hundred.”
“Next we have...”
He watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination as the scantily dressed girl pranced off the stage to her purchaser and the two disappeared through a side room, where Kibum could only assume money was exchanged. The process repeated itself over the next two hours and his mind was filled with images of Taemin, his Taemin (when had the boy become his?) on that stage being bid on like a piece of property then skipping down the stage into the arms of his owner for the night, disappearing into the side room, emerging who knew where and-
The thought of somebody, a stranger, probably old and disgusting, between those milky white thighs, being able to see Lee Taemin on a bed, plush lips softly parted, artificially colored eyes unfocused (because he knew Taemin now, well enough that he could say without a doubt the boy would wear color contacts when having sex with someone so he didn't scare them off with his pitiless black eyes) a light flush of arousal tinting the face that sent people to jail just by looking at it, surrounded by a gleaming halo of perfectly chaotic red, seductive in his contrived innocence- but not vulnerable, no, Lee Taemin was never vulnerable-
Kibum had never been prone to nosebleeds but if ever, now was the time to have one. He wasn't the only one to agree with that, it seemed, as everyone who had been left (had they been saving their money for this? Because Kibum would sell his firstborn child-) suddenly went quiet and the final item of the evening was presented, a bound and gagged vision in- the tightest, shortest shorts Kibum had ever seen he wasn't sure they could even be called clothing- that rode low on skinny hips, pelvic bones sharply defined over the shiny black waistband. They were cut high and tight, squeezing the snow-white flesh of the teenager's thighs and ass, revealing a good expanse of skin before it was semi-covered once more by a filmy black garter holding up a largely destroyed stocking on one leg, the other bare until eyes traveled down the entire length of Taemin's skinny leg to the half laced combat boot that a matching stocking- though far more destroyed than its twin- pooled around in a little puddle of purposefully ruined fabric.
Dragging his eyes up, Kibum saw there wasn't much else to see as far as up was concerned because the only thing covering the pale white torso was black suspenders- not even attached to the shorts, just hanging, laying against his barely defined abdomen. The boy's eyes were covered and a ball gag strapped into his mouth but nonetheless, it was impossible not to see how very enticing the teenager was, his entire body- handcuffed to himself though he was- producing a very definable aura of want.
He hadn't veritably stalked this boy for all this week not to be able to recognize the little signs he had come to know so well, though. Kibum wasn't arrogant about many things- no that was a lie, Kibum was arrogant about everything- but the things he was arrogant about, he could back up. It was bragging rights. And his observational skills were no laughing matter- his eyes narrowed in on the tightening muscles in Taemin's neck every time a bid was called out, recognizing the disgust. He absorbed the teenager's posture, taking in every detail, accounting for the imbalance between leg lengths and found eight different types of hate emanating from the lanky body on the stage. The thin hands- cold hands, Kibum remembered- twitched with nothing less than violent intent, Kibum recalled writing each instance of the boy pulling the trigger of his gun to memory. The baby-face, with the cheeks pulling in just the right direction, Kibum knew Taemin was laughing that harsh, condescending, trilling laugh reserved specially for people he deemed trash.
And the way those lips trembled, even around the gag silencing him- Kibum wanted to kiss the fear from them, tell the boy it was going to be okay.
“One million.”
“One point two million.”
“One point eight million.”
“Three million.”
“Three point one million.”
“Three point five million.”
“Three point five million, going once, going twice-”
“Five million.”
“Five million, going once, going twice- Sold! To the boy in the black hoodie.”
Kibum sometimes wondered what exactly was wrong with himself.
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A/N: Not proof-read chapter two. I'll do it tomorrow. Anyhow, not a terrible lot of bamf!Taemin on Key interaction. Yes, this chapter was largely meant to be informative. I'M SORRY IT WASN'T FUN OKAY? LEAVE ME ALONE YOU JERKS. Ahem. Now that I'm done talking to myself, I hope you kids are satisfied. That Key is in so much fucking trouble. Shit happens to my characters when I'm in a bad mood. Okay. Gonna go down some ibuprofen and see if this fever won't stay below 100, toodles darlings.
**By the way, it has recently come to my attention that I don't catch all my mistakes the first time proof reading. In fact I don't catch them all even the third time so if anybody would like to come help me with this, cleaning-up-and-making-presentable a chapter business (in other words beta/edit/whatever) come forth and pm me. I would appreciate it. Now toodles for real.
Author: peigurrrl
Pairing: TaeKey, minor Jongho
Rating: R
Genre: Romance
Summary: Lee Taemin is unknown in the social web that is high school and Kim Kibum is likely the most well known. But the world is a bigger place than that, it's a place where anything is justifiable to protect that which is precious. Taemin is more than aware of this and the last thing he wants is to be the one teaching Kibum this.
Disclaimer: The other day, SHINee walked up to me and said, 'So hey, do you want to own us?' and obviously I said, 'Hell to the yes!' but then I woke up. I don't own the song, either. Half Acre belongs to Hem.
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“There wasn't any transporting in your assignment, Taemin, so do you care to explain why there's a person handcuffed to your bed?”
“Nope. Go away, he's waking up soon.”
“I'm not done talking to you!”
“That's great. Oh hey, is that Kan calling for you?”
“What?! Shit- don't tell him I was here!”
Taemin rolled his eyes as Leeu scrambled from his room, even though there really was no impending Kan doom. It was such an effective threat though, he mused, as his eyes flickered over to the motionless form that actually wouldn't be waking up for another hour, if he had judged the dose correctly. Which he always did. Taemin hadn't made a miscalculation in four years, most likely because miscalculations didn't end well. When one was in the Mafia, repeated mistakes tended towards death, which was perhaps why he had become such a quick learner.
Checking the handcuffs securing the black-haired boy to Taemin's rarely-slept on bed, the red-head was satisfied to find them secure, and, thus reassured, left to take out his contacts and check on the state of his 'warning'. Despite what Key may have thought, Taemin's intention had not been to kill the teenager whose dive he had sabotaged. The boy's injury was a warning to the father, a man of political importance who had, as of late, been resisting the demands of Taemin's 'employer'. It was a valiant effort, but he would give in. They all did.
Stripping his clothes off to wash the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol off his person, his eyes averted themselves from the bathroom's mirror in a practiced motion going in and leaving the washroom, still covered in a layer of damp over indelible scars. Taemin was rummaging through his closet, towel wrapped loosely around his hips and crayola crayon red hair darkened to maybe a more brick-red shade from the water running streaks down and over his pale skin to drop onto the floor, when his guest stirred, bringing the thin body spinning around, hands clutching a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, naturally dark eyes narrowing in to observe Kibum.
“It's about time the drug wore off, are you finally waking up?” he whispered quietly, mostly to himself and only barely to the restrained form on his bed. When Kibum didn't answer, Taemin shrugged and pulled boxers on under his towel before letting said towel hit the floor with a damp thud. The underwear was quickly followed by the t-shirt and a dry towel over his shoulders to save his shirt from his still-wet hair.
“What happened to you?” came the raspy croak of a throat closed from sleep. “More importantly, why am I handcuffed to this bed?”
Turning on the ball of his feet, Taemin let a cruel smile spread on his face before tripping lightly towards the bed and pulling a chair from his desk to sit on, knowing better than to sit on the bed where Kibum could very likely kick him or some such. The redhead pulled his handgun from the desk as well, angling it just so the light would catch on the little marks on the barrel for the older teenager to see, then began to clean it with the edge of his t-shirt, more concerned with his gun than clothes by far, and pointedly ignoring the fear gleaming in Key's dark orbs.
“This isn't my only gun, by the way. This is just my newest. It's policy to dispose of your firearm after twenty kills, just to prevent the police from throwing you behind bars for too long. I've got six more with this one before I have to get rid of it, which is a pity, since it's lasted the longest,” Taemin explained, fingers running over each groove slowly. “Now, Key, the reason I'm telling you this is not because I plan on killing you. I don't like unnecessary bloodshed and I think you'll keep my secrets, right?”
“But-”
“Besides, that boy who fell, Kye Chinho? He's not dead. He's comatose but his prognosis is good. Given his father complies with our demands, anyway. You didn't really think I would kill him, did you?”
Kibum raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, eying the gun with an 'are you stupid?' expression. Taemin laughed brightly, an ingrained, mechanical response as he set the gun down without relinquishing his hold. “Oh come on. Killing people usually isn't in my job description, except for when it is. Still. You agree you're not going to tell the police about me, don't you? I would be very upset if you did.”
“It's not like you could get away with it, even if I didn't report you. My mother's probably worried sick!” Key argued as he tested his bonds to no avail. “Besides, you can't think I was the only one who saw you ruin the kid's jump. I know I'm the most important, but there were tons of kids at that party who probably saw you. Your red hair sticks out like a sore thumb.”
Taemin scoffed, “Don't be ridiculous. I've only been doing this job since I was barely out of diapers. You think I'd've survived this long if I couldn't do it right by now? Your mother's not concerned and you're the only witness.” His eyes watched with amusement when the older teen's face suggested he might scream and only said, “Don't bother calling for help. This entire building is owned by my boss, and all the rooms are soundproof. In fact, that being the case, why don't we have some fun?”
“I'm not going to sleep with murdering trash!” Kibum spat, glaring at his captor the whole while. He'd hoped to insult but instead the red-haired boy shrugged, as if he was saying, 'your loss' and rose from his seat, rolling his eyes when the black-haired boy flinched.
“I'm not a rapist, just a murderer,” Taemin said as he opened the door of the room, leaving to let Kibum sweat on the bed when he returned with a syringe and a man much larger than the slight red head. “He's ready to go home now, Kangin.”
“He's not gonna squeal the moment we let him loose?”
“I mixed a little bit of amnesiac in here. Well, maybe a lot. He'll be lucky to remember his name tomorrow morning. Besides, if he doesn't- we'll treat him like everyone else, right? Warning, a punishment, then execution. You're an only child, aren't you, Key? Your mother would be devastated to lose her firstborn, don't you agree?”
Taemin's smirk grew with Kibum's fear, his eyes- now clear of the blue contacts and looking more artificial than ever- menacing as he popped the cap off the needle and flooded Kibum's system with drugs for the second time that night. As his muscles relaxed and he lost strength in his limbs, the handcuffs were released and his body thrown over a bulky shoulder with ease, a gruff voice muttering, “He must like you to not kill you like he does everyone else.” How kind of him. Was Kibum's last, decidedly sarcastic thought.
-
He woke up to a voice yelling at him to stop lazing about in bed on top of a blinding headache. God, how much did I drink? and then Who am I again?
“Kim Kibum, it's three in the afternoon! I don't care if it's a Sunday, you get out of bed right now!”
“Getting up, mom,” Kibum replied weakly, palm pressed to his forehead in effort to stave off the throbbing pain. What the hell had he done last night? It was unusual for him to be unable to remember anything after a night of drinking, he was the almighty Kim Kibum after all, blackouts just didn't happen to him. In fact, the last thing he remembered was arriving at- whose party?- Nicole's house and then- nothing. Nada. He couldn't have drunk that much, could he have?
His pink phone buzzed as a text arrived and he flipped it open, managing to roll himself out of his bed and onto the ground at the same time.
To: Kibum
From: Dinopuppy
HELP ME PICK OUT
SOMETHING FOR
ME AND MINHO'S
ONE WEEK
ANNIVERSARY!!1!1!
Actually, considering the absolute hell his so-called best friend had put him through these past few days, it wasn't entirely impossible. An angry 'NO' was all Jonghyun got before Kibum somehow wobbled into the bathroom with every intent of washing the hangover right out of himself. No better time to try that new bath bomb he had bought than now, anyway.
-
“You really don't remember anything from Nicole's party?” Jonghyun asked anxiously, for once talking to Kibum with Minho out of school for a soccer competition.
Kibum glared at his best friend, trying not to shout at the begging face in front of him. “No, I really don't remember anything! How many times are you going to make me repeat myself? Really, how dare you, Kim Jonghyun?! Pay attention the first time I say something!” Presented with a kicked puppy face, copyright Jonghyun 1990, he sighed and asked a tired, “Why do you want to know?”
“'Cause everyone's talking about the kid who almost died!” exploded the senior. “Man, you were at that party, how do you not know? There's no way you were so drunk you blacked out, you've never blacked out before.”
He frowned, forgetting something like that was truly unusual when it concerned his amazing person. For the life of him, however, he simply couldn't remember and it was so annoying. So annoyi-
“Who's that kid?”
“Who, the one with bright red hair?”
“Yeah, him.”
“Some freshman, I don't know. Why?”
“I just... feel like I've seen him before.”
“That's Lee Taemin,” Jinki said, appearing out of nowhere to identify the lanky, baby-faced student whose hair had caught Kibum's attention. “His file said he was fifteen, and a freshman. He got held back a year when he was hospitalized for six months in seventh grade. He transferred in half way through last week, since he was in the hospital again. I guess he has poor health.” The two stared at their student body president in amazement that he knew something not chicken related.
Then eyes- somehow Kibum had been expecting a crayon blue or bottomless black for some reason- they were a warm brown when they met with Kibum's own and he was startled to find himself thinking that the boy was wearing color contacts, even though it was perfectly normal to find an Asian with brown eyes. When a dark smile, perfectly suited to the puffy pink lips and gleaming white teeth for some odd reason or the other, found itself marring the sweet countenance, Kibum was hit with a cold chill.
Key.
-scream your name, hyung.
He'll be lucky to remember his name-
-kill you like he does everyone else.
An involuntary shudder passed through Kibum's frame as the redhead turned away to keep walking and a frightened whisper of, “I don't think he's in the hospital for being sick,” slipped through lips suddenly drained of color. A large, warm hand grasped his shoulder as Jonghyun peered at him with concern.
“You look green, Kibummie. Maybe you should go to the nurse and lie down for a bit.”
Nodding in mute agreement, his shaky hands collected his belongings before heading down to the clinic and convincing the nurse with ease that he needed to lie down before he vomited his breakfast in the middle of the hallway or something equally disgusting. Setting his bedazzled messenger bag at the head of the cot he usually would die before sleeping on- there was no way the thing was sanitary- his trembling legs all but collapsed underneath him and he cradled his perfectly coiffed head of hair in a pair of hands ice-cold from the way a nervous sweat had suddenly broken out over his entire body.
Lee Taemin's angelic face, chubby cheeks, cold expression, dead eyes plagued his dreams when Kibum closed his eyes for an uneasy rest. The amnesiac that had been mixed with his sedative had fragmented his memories of the party two nights ago into a veritable kaleidoscope of anxiety, panic, and fear. He couldn't remember the words said exactly, nor what it was that he was forgetting, only that Lee Taemin was dangerous, so dangerous, and not at all Kibum's type. Kibum had always liked those people like Jinki, responsible, mature, solid, yet here was the red haired boy all sharp corners and
wicked, insincere smiles invading his mind and dreams.
“I just need a bandage, seonsaengnim. It's not that serious of a cut.”
“Taemin, you always say it's not serious even when you're practically bleeding to death. Don't think I didn't forget that time you got stabbed and didn't even tell me- we had to hospitalize you!”
“Victoria-noona, don't talk so loudly. I'm supposed to be a normal student right now- and it's just a paper cut. Really. I didn't want to agitate it is all.”
“There's no one here to hear us anyway- well, there is one but the poor dear looked ready to pass out when he walked in here, I doubt he can hear us. Here, do you like piropiro bandages?”
“That's fine. Who's the studen- Kim Kibum? Ah...”
“Oh, is he the one Leeu wouldn't stop talking about? I heard it was someone from this school but-”
“Leeu-hyung gossips like an old woman. And I need a pass back to class.”
“Still, you haven't let a witness go in- well, ever. Where are you going?”
“History.”
“Okay, here you go. See you.”
Kibum blinked. What had that strange conversation-
“I know you're awake, Kibum-ah. You feeling up to a little talk?” A pretty face poked around the curtain veiling his bed and Kibum frowned. No, he did not feel up to a little talk with the school nurse about something that he didn't think really concerned him. Apparently, Victoria could tell as she smiled knowingly. “Well, I suppose the only choice he had was to hit you with a memory suppressant.”
“What?!” Kibum shot up at this- who the hell would dare to drug him? And why? The conversation he had heard earlier clicked into place, though, and, “I think I'm gonna be sick.”
Victoria very kindly provided him with a wastebasket to puke in.
“Now,” she started, “Taeminnie will probably be very angry with me for telling you all this but, well- He's kind of a sad case. If you could be his friend, that'd be really good.”
“Yeah, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends. Hell, our relationship might even be right up there with Eisenhower and Hitler's, we'll be such good friends,” Kibum bit back sarcastically. He- well, actually, he wasn't opposed to being friends with the red-haired freshman. Inexplicably, he was curious, too curious, about the boy who he saw with a myriad of scars decorating a pale white body. No, as far as he knew, he hadn't seen Lee Taemin naked before but given what he'd been told about a memory-suppressant drug, maybe he had. What he was sure about though, was that, “I don't think he wants to be friends with me which is ridiculous, I know.”
“Hardly,” Victoria replied archly, “I think Taemin quite likes you. After all, you're still alive.”
Well if that wasn't the worst basis for being friends with someone, Kibum wasn't sure what was. He said as much to her and she in return chortled.
“No, really. Taemin well- he's an orphan. He joined the Family-”
“Family?”
“Family. Mafia Family-” Victoria explained before finding herself interrupted again.
“Oh my God, I'm getting involved with the freaking Mafia. My poor mother-”
“So you agree to be his friend?” she asked with a triumphant smile on her face.
“NO! Well I mean, yeah, I don't mind but-”
“That's great!”
“Wait-!”
“Hm?”
“Tell me. Tell me about him first.” Because there was no way in hell Kibum was just going to suddenly be all buddy-buddy with this kid who brought to mind guns and blood and eyes like the darkest obsidian.
Victoria shrugged, “Well he's technically my sunbae, so I can't tell you anything you don't already know, but...” Turning away from Kibum, she wrote on a piece of paper until ten minutes later, “Ta-da! Lee Taemin's twenty-four hour schedule, this week only.” Handing it over with a wink, she said, “It's not often stalking that boy is made so easy. His schedule is actually super chaotic because we're always trying to throw off any of his would-be stalkers but there you are. Aren't you lucky?”
Looking down to see times and places all written in neat, chronological order, Kibum would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed that his school nurse had managed to remember the thing which, sans school, had nothing in common. There were several dead spots- Victoria had written them in as being too high security or too high danger for Kibum to attend- but otherwise, following around the red-haired freshman would be almost too easy.
-
So far, he had learned that Taemin dealt drugs. That was putting it lightly. He oversaw the production and distribution of everything from marijuana to LSD in their city and a few others, Kibum bet. He made sure the drug dens that appeared to be under his jurisdiction never ran low on customers and he used himself as bait, promising boys and girls and men and women alike golden bubbles full of air and addiction.
Taemin also collected money- and that was Kibum putting the brutal beating he had witnessed over a few thousand dollars lightly- and negotiated with dangerous people. Kibum wasn't stupid, just because he and his came from the better part of town didn't mean he couldn't recognize an inter-city gang when he saw one.
Taemin had no problem putting a few holes in someone who offended him, was what Kibum thought the first time a man drew a gun on the red-haired teen and had his kneecaps shot out. He liked to think, though, that he could see something akin to fear flickering in those round black eyes- Taemin didn't wear contacts for the dirtier jobs- but he hadn't noticed that until he managed to stop puking his guts up. Not that Kibum would ever confess to vomiting at the sight of a fifteen year old heartlessly shooting down people probably twice his age and size. He hadn't seen Taemin kill anyone yet, though. He wasn't sure if he was reassured by that or not.
It appeared that kidnapping was also perfectly normal as Kibum watched Taemin charm a girl into a car with blacked-out windows. The car had sped off not even half a minute after the doors locked and Taemin hadn't been driving- he'd slid into the backseat with the girl. Kibum hadn't followed them after that because it was blacked out on the schedule Victoria had given him.
It was now Saturday and there was only one day left on the schedule Victoria had given him. Kibum wasn't sure if he was obsessed or insane to be following Lee Taemin around all these days- he rather thought he didn't want to know what Victoria's definition of too dangerous was if safe was almost getting caught in the middle of a three way gang war- only that he was fascinated with the way the teenager transitioned from a perfectly normal high schooler with 'friends' to a dangerous, ice cold criminal.
Maybe it was time for Kibum to admit he was a bit of a masochist.
Creeping into the dark clubhouse like the master at creeping Kibum had become over the past week, he barely managed to catch a bright flash of red hair through the opening between two curtains veiling a downstairs in the dark building. Kibum wanted to hit something- it had been difficult enough getting past the security for just the normal club and now he had to get through some VIP part? Was he really that curious about this freshman who in one week had probably committed more crimes than the entire school had, combined?
A bewitching smile on the face of a red-haired corpse flashed through his mind and Kibum decided yes, yes he was that curious.
Pulling out every ounce of 'I belong here' and 'I own this places, bitches' attitude that he had- there was a lot- Kibum made his way to the curtains, was stopped by the guards who didn't believe a kid wearing checkered skinny jeans and a hoodie with bright pink stitching belonged in a room where the majority of the occupants were decked out in formal evening wear.
“Look, I'm just looking for my mom, okay?” Kibum lied. “She hasn't paid alimony for my little brother in months. I swear I won't cause a commotion.”
He was impressed when the guards bought it. They asked, “What's her name?” he rattled off some name that he'd heard Taemin say a few days ago, they checked, it was on the list, presto, he was in.
God, Kibum loved himself.
Settling himself in the back, out of sight of people, he swallowed thickly as he discovered the newest in Taemin's expansive skill set. There was a stage laid out before the entire audience, with bright lights to make it difficult for the performers on stage to see the audience shrouded in darkness. There was also a little podium just off center, to which a masked figure stepped up to, clearing his throat and checking mic before announcing what exactly the event was.
Kibum hoped to God he didn't throw up over this too. It- it was basically human trafficking, wasn't it? These people-
“Three hundred.”
“Three hundred and fifty.”
“Four hundred.”
“Four hundred and eighty.”
“Going once, going twice-”
“Five hundred.”
“No more offers? Sold for five hundred.”
“Next we have...”
He watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination as the scantily dressed girl pranced off the stage to her purchaser and the two disappeared through a side room, where Kibum could only assume money was exchanged. The process repeated itself over the next two hours and his mind was filled with images of Taemin, his Taemin (when had the boy become his?) on that stage being bid on like a piece of property then skipping down the stage into the arms of his owner for the night, disappearing into the side room, emerging who knew where and-
The thought of somebody, a stranger, probably old and disgusting, between those milky white thighs, being able to see Lee Taemin on a bed, plush lips softly parted, artificially colored eyes unfocused (because he knew Taemin now, well enough that he could say without a doubt the boy would wear color contacts when having sex with someone so he didn't scare them off with his pitiless black eyes) a light flush of arousal tinting the face that sent people to jail just by looking at it, surrounded by a gleaming halo of perfectly chaotic red, seductive in his contrived innocence- but not vulnerable, no, Lee Taemin was never vulnerable-
Kibum had never been prone to nosebleeds but if ever, now was the time to have one. He wasn't the only one to agree with that, it seemed, as everyone who had been left (had they been saving their money for this? Because Kibum would sell his firstborn child-) suddenly went quiet and the final item of the evening was presented, a bound and gagged vision in- the tightest, shortest shorts Kibum had ever seen he wasn't sure they could even be called clothing- that rode low on skinny hips, pelvic bones sharply defined over the shiny black waistband. They were cut high and tight, squeezing the snow-white flesh of the teenager's thighs and ass, revealing a good expanse of skin before it was semi-covered once more by a filmy black garter holding up a largely destroyed stocking on one leg, the other bare until eyes traveled down the entire length of Taemin's skinny leg to the half laced combat boot that a matching stocking- though far more destroyed than its twin- pooled around in a little puddle of purposefully ruined fabric.
Dragging his eyes up, Kibum saw there wasn't much else to see as far as up was concerned because the only thing covering the pale white torso was black suspenders- not even attached to the shorts, just hanging, laying against his barely defined abdomen. The boy's eyes were covered and a ball gag strapped into his mouth but nonetheless, it was impossible not to see how very enticing the teenager was, his entire body- handcuffed to himself though he was- producing a very definable aura of want.
He hadn't veritably stalked this boy for all this week not to be able to recognize the little signs he had come to know so well, though. Kibum wasn't arrogant about many things- no that was a lie, Kibum was arrogant about everything- but the things he was arrogant about, he could back up. It was bragging rights. And his observational skills were no laughing matter- his eyes narrowed in on the tightening muscles in Taemin's neck every time a bid was called out, recognizing the disgust. He absorbed the teenager's posture, taking in every detail, accounting for the imbalance between leg lengths and found eight different types of hate emanating from the lanky body on the stage. The thin hands- cold hands, Kibum remembered- twitched with nothing less than violent intent, Kibum recalled writing each instance of the boy pulling the trigger of his gun to memory. The baby-face, with the cheeks pulling in just the right direction, Kibum knew Taemin was laughing that harsh, condescending, trilling laugh reserved specially for people he deemed trash.
And the way those lips trembled, even around the gag silencing him- Kibum wanted to kiss the fear from them, tell the boy it was going to be okay.
“One million.”
“One point two million.”
“One point eight million.”
“Three million.”
“Three point one million.”
“Three point five million.”
“Three point five million, going once, going twice-”
“Five million.”
“Five million, going once, going twice- Sold! To the boy in the black hoodie.”
Kibum sometimes wondered what exactly was wrong with himself.
==
next
A/N: Not proof-read chapter two. I'll do it tomorrow. Anyhow, not a terrible lot of bamf!Taemin on Key interaction. Yes, this chapter was largely meant to be informative. I'M SORRY IT WASN'T FUN OKAY? LEAVE ME ALONE YOU JERKS. Ahem. Now that I'm done talking to myself, I hope you kids are satisfied. That Key is in so much fucking trouble. Shit happens to my characters when I'm in a bad mood. Okay. Gonna go down some ibuprofen and see if this fever won't stay below 100, toodles darlings.
**By the way, it has recently come to my attention that I don't catch all my mistakes the first time proof reading. In fact I don't catch them all even the third time so if anybody would like to come help me with this, cleaning-up-and-making-presentable a chapter business (in other words beta/edit/whatever) come forth and pm me. I would appreciate it. Now toodles for real.
