Presentiment - Prologue
Title: Presentiment
Author: playgirl_eugene
Pairing: Jae-centric, 2U, eventual JoongShim
Genre: AU, drama, romance, thriller, suspense, psychological, mystery
Warning(s): violence, strong language, sexual themes, non-con, characters death (non-TVXQ), fashion kinks and eccentricity
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This fic is purely fictional and I do not earn profit of any kind and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Three very different young men were suspected of committing a series of bizarre murders. As they raced against the time that they did not have and unseen enemies, will they be able to catch the true perpetrator, if there was any to begin with?
Author Note: This fic is inspired by the novel Tell Me Your Dreams, by Sidney Sheldon. Oh, but it’s just the main concept though. I’m not following the whole thing. I’m not really a big fan of Sheldon’s works, though I’ve read almost all of them. Honestly, I thought the women in the stories are just over the top ninety percent of the time. But this one might just be the one that I actually like, girl-power at work aside.
Prologue
Someone was following him.
Kim Jaejoong knew that he was never really alone, even when he was. And recently, it was getting harder to ignore that fact.
That man who he saw at the corner of the street when he came back, was it the same man he had seen glancing at him in the subway?
Was it him who left that book, which never left the shelf before, on the bedside table?
There was a black dot moving to his bed and vanished, a Black Widow?
Sometimes, it was stuff of nightmares with him, unbearable ones with monsters that haunted his sleeps and trapped him in the lanes of bitter childhood memories. Sometimes, it was just someone. He had read about stalkers, their never-ending malice and darkness, but they belonged in a different, violent world.
He had no idea who could it be, what they wanted, who would want to hurt him when he had done no one wrong and he was desperately trying not to panic, but as he woke up every morning, presentiment staining the purple line of the horizon beyond his window, he could not shake the feeling of doom looming, ominous, potent.
Perhaps it’s all just my imagination, Kim Jaejoong thought as he combed a hand through his hair. I should stop reading through Yoochun’s things. It’s getting to my sleep.
He turned to study himself in his full-length mirror. What looked back was the gaunt reflection of a young man in his late-twenties, with a slim build and anxious, overpowering dark brown eyes. His dark hair fell softly to frame his face, creating a sharp contrast with his complexion and reddish lips.
I hate my face, Jaejoong pinched on his own cheek, rubbing them after. I look like a girl. Maybe I should fatten up?
Jaejoong passed the threshold of his living room into the small, modern kitchen with the onyx counter and polished wooden breakfast bar, feeling too lazy too early in the morning as he decided to bypass everything else and grabbed the half-empty cereal box. He turned on the coffee maker and cracked the pome, grabbing some cherry tomatoes and squeezed fresh oranges.
Adding milk to the cereal bowl, he stirred half-heartedly, trying to work up his appetite and ended up poking it until the corn bits turned soggy.
Jaejoong made a frustrated sound at the back of his head; even his appetite had been ruined.
Enough, Jaejoong thought as he shoveled the cereal against the bile rising slowly in his throat. Whoever he is, I can’t let him do this to me. I can’t let him ruin my life. I won’t.
Jaejoong glanced at his watch, the fine tan leather Cartier he wore strapped around his vulnerable wrist like a lariat.
It was time to leave for work.
As he slipped on his shoes, Jaejoong took a moment to look around the apartment, taking mental notes of where he left his shearling slippers, how many magazines he left on the coffee table, the throw pillows on the couch. He took some kind of reassurance as he noted that nothing was out of place since last night.
His tenth-floor apartment was an attractively furnished space on Shinsa-dong, Gangnam-gu, and had an unparalleled view of the city and everything it had to offer, decked in a modern edge with ebony, rocked-off-white and deep green combination of minimalistic furniture and high-glossed black flooring against glass planes and stainless steel walls.
Until some time ago, Jaejoong had thought of it as his refuge, a private sanctuary away from everything that he hated. Now it became a fortress, a place where no one could get in to touch him, to harm him.
Jaejoong walked to the front door and examined the lock. I’ll have a dead bolt put in, he promised himself. Tomorrow, I’ll do it tomorrow.
He turned off all the lights, checked to make sure the door was firmly locked behind him and took the elevator to the basement garage.
The place was dimly lit and deserted, and Jaejoong clutched harder on his Marc by Marc Jacobs messenger. He could do this. After all, what could happen in the ten seconds between him and his car?
A lot.
He looked around carefully and broke into a half-run to his Audi, slid inside and locked the door, his heart pounding all the way. He sucked in a breath, slightly hitching from nerve, and revved the engine.
Ten minutes later, Kim Jaejoong was stuck in the middle of eight-thirty rush hour. Sometimes, he was still awed by the fact that he was living in Seoul now after years of not having any roots. Korea was where he was born after all. It was his home, essentially.
Jaejoong drove to work under a sky that was grey and opaque, with thick, black clouds rolling about lazily. The weather forecast had said that it would rain the whole day. But it’s not going to rain. Jaejoong clenched on the steer enough to cut circulation. The sun is going to come out and everything will be alright.
As Jaejoong turned the car onto Apgujeong-dong, just rounding a corner, he felt that feeling of being watched again. But that was impossible.
But who? And most importantly, why?
He looked into his rear-view mirror. Everything seemed normal. Every instinct told him otherwise. Jaejoong had very good instinct.
I’ll make a deal with you, God. If it doesn’t rain today, it means that everything is all right, that I’ve been imagining things.
He turned into the parking lot of the building that housed Glitter and Ice, tapping his identification card on the scanner and pulled into the basement parking space.
He felt safe here.
As he got into the elevator, it began to rain outside.
Chapter One >>
Author: playgirl_eugene
Pairing: Jae-centric, 2U, eventual JoongShim
Genre: AU, drama, romance, thriller, suspense, psychological, mystery
Warning(s): violence, strong language, sexual themes, non-con, characters death (non-TVXQ), fashion kinks and eccentricity
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This fic is purely fictional and I do not earn profit of any kind and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Three very different young men were suspected of committing a series of bizarre murders. As they raced against the time that they did not have and unseen enemies, will they be able to catch the true perpetrator, if there was any to begin with?
Author Note: This fic is inspired by the novel Tell Me Your Dreams, by Sidney Sheldon. Oh, but it’s just the main concept though. I’m not following the whole thing. I’m not really a big fan of Sheldon’s works, though I’ve read almost all of them. Honestly, I thought the women in the stories are just over the top ninety percent of the time. But this one might just be the one that I actually like, girl-power at work aside.
Prologue
Someone was following him.
Kim Jaejoong knew that he was never really alone, even when he was. And recently, it was getting harder to ignore that fact.
That man who he saw at the corner of the street when he came back, was it the same man he had seen glancing at him in the subway?
Was it him who left that book, which never left the shelf before, on the bedside table?
There was a black dot moving to his bed and vanished, a Black Widow?
Sometimes, it was stuff of nightmares with him, unbearable ones with monsters that haunted his sleeps and trapped him in the lanes of bitter childhood memories. Sometimes, it was just someone. He had read about stalkers, their never-ending malice and darkness, but they belonged in a different, violent world.
He had no idea who could it be, what they wanted, who would want to hurt him when he had done no one wrong and he was desperately trying not to panic, but as he woke up every morning, presentiment staining the purple line of the horizon beyond his window, he could not shake the feeling of doom looming, ominous, potent.
Perhaps it’s all just my imagination, Kim Jaejoong thought as he combed a hand through his hair. I should stop reading through Yoochun’s things. It’s getting to my sleep.
He turned to study himself in his full-length mirror. What looked back was the gaunt reflection of a young man in his late-twenties, with a slim build and anxious, overpowering dark brown eyes. His dark hair fell softly to frame his face, creating a sharp contrast with his complexion and reddish lips.
I hate my face, Jaejoong pinched on his own cheek, rubbing them after. I look like a girl. Maybe I should fatten up?
Jaejoong passed the threshold of his living room into the small, modern kitchen with the onyx counter and polished wooden breakfast bar, feeling too lazy too early in the morning as he decided to bypass everything else and grabbed the half-empty cereal box. He turned on the coffee maker and cracked the pome, grabbing some cherry tomatoes and squeezed fresh oranges.
Adding milk to the cereal bowl, he stirred half-heartedly, trying to work up his appetite and ended up poking it until the corn bits turned soggy.
Jaejoong made a frustrated sound at the back of his head; even his appetite had been ruined.
Enough, Jaejoong thought as he shoveled the cereal against the bile rising slowly in his throat. Whoever he is, I can’t let him do this to me. I can’t let him ruin my life. I won’t.
Jaejoong glanced at his watch, the fine tan leather Cartier he wore strapped around his vulnerable wrist like a lariat.
It was time to leave for work.
As he slipped on his shoes, Jaejoong took a moment to look around the apartment, taking mental notes of where he left his shearling slippers, how many magazines he left on the coffee table, the throw pillows on the couch. He took some kind of reassurance as he noted that nothing was out of place since last night.
His tenth-floor apartment was an attractively furnished space on Shinsa-dong, Gangnam-gu, and had an unparalleled view of the city and everything it had to offer, decked in a modern edge with ebony, rocked-off-white and deep green combination of minimalistic furniture and high-glossed black flooring against glass planes and stainless steel walls.
Until some time ago, Jaejoong had thought of it as his refuge, a private sanctuary away from everything that he hated. Now it became a fortress, a place where no one could get in to touch him, to harm him.
Jaejoong walked to the front door and examined the lock. I’ll have a dead bolt put in, he promised himself. Tomorrow, I’ll do it tomorrow.
He turned off all the lights, checked to make sure the door was firmly locked behind him and took the elevator to the basement garage.
The place was dimly lit and deserted, and Jaejoong clutched harder on his Marc by Marc Jacobs messenger. He could do this. After all, what could happen in the ten seconds between him and his car?
A lot.
He looked around carefully and broke into a half-run to his Audi, slid inside and locked the door, his heart pounding all the way. He sucked in a breath, slightly hitching from nerve, and revved the engine.
Ten minutes later, Kim Jaejoong was stuck in the middle of eight-thirty rush hour. Sometimes, he was still awed by the fact that he was living in Seoul now after years of not having any roots. Korea was where he was born after all. It was his home, essentially.
Jaejoong drove to work under a sky that was grey and opaque, with thick, black clouds rolling about lazily. The weather forecast had said that it would rain the whole day. But it’s not going to rain. Jaejoong clenched on the steer enough to cut circulation. The sun is going to come out and everything will be alright.
As Jaejoong turned the car onto Apgujeong-dong, just rounding a corner, he felt that feeling of being watched again. But that was impossible.
But who? And most importantly, why?
He looked into his rear-view mirror. Everything seemed normal. Every instinct told him otherwise. Jaejoong had very good instinct.
I’ll make a deal with you, God. If it doesn’t rain today, it means that everything is all right, that I’ve been imagining things.
He turned into the parking lot of the building that housed Glitter and Ice, tapping his identification card on the scanner and pulled into the basement parking space.
He felt safe here.
As he got into the elevator, it began to rain outside.
Chapter One >>