Jaejoong/Yunho, Yoochun/Junsu
The ultimate killer he is, but what is it that haunts him so?
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The Killer’s Nightmare; Chapter 2
“I can’t stop fidgeting. Something’s wrong - I’m sure,” said Yoochun as he sat up, unable to continue watching the anime in peace. He had been worried ever since looking up the weather forecast in the evening.
Beside him, Junsu sighed. He already knew what was going through the other’s mind.
Yoochun got off the bed and reached for his phone, then attempted to dial the same number another four times. There was still no response.
“Maybe you’re just paranoid. He’s been through this before, remember?” Junsu assured, taking the phone from Yoochun. The latter nodded hesitantly, and they resumed watching the 87th episode of Naruto for maybe about another ten minutes.
Then it was Junsu who sat up. He scratched the side of his head uncomfortably, a habit that surfaced whenever he was feeling uneasy. “Maybe we really should check it out. It’s been hours. Hyung wouldn’t stay away from his phone for more than five minutes, right?”
Yoochun was already getting ready to leave. “Did he tell you where he was going? I only know he was assigned a new run.”
Putting on one of Yoochun’s jackets, Junsu shook his head and said, “You’re going to his room to check, right?”
A quick nod from the other answered him.
“I’ll get the car. See you in five.”
He heard a disgusting crunch when he fell into the bushes. Jumping out a window from the second floor building wasn’t the most intelligent thing he could do, but Jaejoong had been desperate. The short bushes were far from a cushion to cradle his fall, and as a result, he sustained injuries of an even greater magnitude than before.
What the fuck was I thinking - I could have just poisoned the damned target.
The open wounds Yunho had given him were trivial, both having landed on non-vital parts of his body. However, with the rainwater seeping through his torn clothing and into his wounds, every raindrop became a stabbing knife into Jaejoong’s body.
It was all too unbearable.
But, Jaejoong smiled, there was one relief. He had completed the run. If anything, he would rather take his own life than fail, since consequences far worse than death would await him if the latter happened.
As he grew paler and paler, his heart couldn’t take the pressure anymore. His lips grew dry and chapped, and he began to feel immense sharp, piercing stabs to his chest whenever he breathed.
Jaejoong’s eyes rolled and white foam began to form by the side of his mouth.
In his temporarily deranged mind, Jaejoong was plunging into an abyss, physically numb but mentally in an incredible state of euphoria.
There, lying in the bushes, Jaejoong was going into a shock.
“You guys are too late, he’s gone,” Yunho said dryly as he returned from the infirmary. The other members had finally returned, from dinner, only to find their lifeless boss sprawled on the floor as well as a few others injured or dead in the room.
“It’s not really their fault, we didn’t call for them anyway,” Changmin reasoned, helping the others get back to on their feet. He was guilty for sleeping through the entire ordeal, for he had secretly deactivated the special “Joomin alarm” that would wail incessantly in the privacy of his room each time Joomin decided to hold a little gathering to drink tea.
Yunho snorted. He couldn’t take it down. “And you, where the hell have you been? Didn’t you hear the blasted alarm?”
“I’m not interested in joining his personal army, don’t you already know that?” said Changmin, albeit a little too chirpily.
“Then whose army are you in? If not Chambers’?” Yunho stood beside Changmin, towering over him only because the latter was kneeling down.
“Yours.”
There was a pregnant pause as if he didn’t know how to react, then Yunho rolled his eyes and adjusted the bandages on his bare chest uneasily.
Ignoring Changmin, he resumed shuffling around the room, looking around for anything that might lead him to “Chef Jaejoong”.
The mysterious killer had left without a single trace, save for the little daggers and the other, different one that had impaled Yunho. The metallic weapons were all around the room, yet Yunho could not see any of them anywhere other than stuck on the men’s bodies, or already stained bloody and removed from there. He frowned, pursing his lips in thought as he counted the blades.
Ten… Eleven…Twelve.
Twelve, the exact same number Jaejoong had threatened them with.
Fatigued by the day’s events, he returned to his room with a dull, waning pain in his stomach. Just as his bottom made contact with the comfortable mattress, he caught sight of Jaejoong’s dagger lying on the end table.
Once clean of blood, Yunho could see the intricate carvings on the blade which turned out to be little butterflies accompanied with roses and thorns. The carvings were tiny, yet so full of detail that Yunho had no doubt it was the work of a skillful carver.
At the very least, it was larger and definitely much more valuable than the other plain little ones Jaejoong used earlier - Yunho figured Jaejoong used it by mistake.
He fingered the blade, grazing very slightly along the contours of its shape. The dagger’s sharp touch tickled as his skin went against it and within a few seconds, a fine pink line formed along the width of his finger.
Blood oozed out from there almost immediately after. Shocked, Yunho cursed and grabbed a piece of tissue to stop the bleeding, accidentally dropping the dagger onto the floor in his haste. It landed with a soft metallic clang.
Just like its owner, the weapon wasn’t what it seemed to be at all.
Wrapping a band-aid around his offended finger, Yunho stared at the dagger and recalled Jaejoong’s pale, expressionless face when the latter faced his gang brothers. In the event of being outnumbered, when he should have been afraid, Jaejoong appeared to be completely passive, his poker face betraying nothing but skill.
Yunho reached his conclusion. Finding the real culprit was going to be trouble, because Jaejoong was most definitely a very skilled hired contract killer. He rubbed his temples in circular, fluid motions. This was going to be a cause for worry.
And he doesn’t ever miss, does he?
Jaejoong’s eyes shot open and a low, irritated groan emitted from his mouth as the light burned his eyes. I am… alive? The assassin looked around him, realizing that he was back in his room at the Headquarters. The familiar furniture was all in place, and - there he was, a sleeping Junsu leaning against the bed.
That answered all his questions.
“I am alive,” he whispered to the air.
“Hyung? You’re awake?” Junsu mumbled as he looked up with tired eyes. Jaejoong managed a small smile. The drugs in his blood were still in effect so his movements were much restricted.
“Where’s Yoochun?” asked Jaejoong, his voice feeble. Junsu straightened up, fixing his appearance this way and that before telling Jaejoong that it was 4 am and Yoochun had gone out to buy cigarettes. But before he could say more, Yoochun himself ambled into the room.
Junsu spun his head around, grinning sleepily at Yoochun before moving away from the bed so that he could get closer.
“How long was I out?”
“A little more than 3 days. Glad to have you back,” Yoochun smiled, genuinely relieved. It was like one of those times, when Jaejoong got into trouble and he had to go drag him back. This time, however, was one of the most serious of them all.
“It was a real close shave, Jaejoong hyung. Yoochun had to call in two surgeons,” said Junsu, who later proceeded to recount more details about the days’ happenings with Yoochun contributing a few random bits.
Jaejoong listened, despite still drowsy from under the drugs’ influence. They were his friends after all. But when it got to a point when he could hardly keep his eyes open, Junsu and Yoochun took their cue and left.
It seemed like a day-to-day affair, nothing odd, nothing special, and nothing like as if Jaejoong had nearly lost his life.
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