[FIC] You Can't Choose What Stays and What Fades Away (3/?)
title: you can't choose what stays and what fades away (3/?)
pairing: kangin/eeteuk (side donghae/eunhyuk)
rating: R
warnings: dark themes
summary: how far would you go to find the truth?
notes: this is what happens when i put off school work. :P
disclaimer: i do not own the members of super junior. maybe the fairies will help me get them...
Puzzles require a lot of pieces and people to put it together. So, he reasons, his orders are appropriately given. This is what he does: studies and picks apart the little things that make the creatures pulse with life.
He wrinkles his nose as he looks around. He was not prepared for the smell. As he watches people walk by, he sees he has not prepared for dress either. So he blinks, and everything shifts, and now he fits in. He sneaks a glance at a store window, tucks some of his pale orange hair back into place.
“Tai wan mei,” he says to himself before striding down the sidewalk.
***
Panic.
That’s all on Youngwoon’s mind as he races down the block from the garage where he parked the car. All of the scenarios race through his mind - cut by a knife, burn on the stove, fell out the window, fell through the window, robbed, beaten---
“Hang on, Teukie,” he pants as he takes the stairs two at a time. He’s been saying it since he left the police station, since he’d gotten that call from Hyukjae, since he heard something happened to Jungsu. It’s his worst nightmare, and no, he’s not going to let anything happen this time, not to him, not to Jungsu, not while he’s within reach…
He’s gasping for air, but he sees the apartment door. He bursts through it, nightstick raised and ready. “Where is it?! Where’s the perp?!” he yells.
“…Youngwoon.”
Youngwoon looks, sees Hyukjae sitting with Jungsu on the couch. Hyukjae’s hands are on Jungsu’s shoulders, almost as if to keep him there.
“What the hell,” Hyukjae states, pointing to the nightstick. Youngwoon, suddenly self-conscious, lowers it. Then he realizes that there’s no threat in the apartment.
“Damn it, Hyuk!” Youngwoon growls out, stalking over to the couch. “You said something happened to Jungsu.”
“Technically, something did.” He nods to the kitchen counter. “He broke some glasses.”
“Oh…” Youngwoon can’t really say anything else, so he sits on the armchair near Jungsu, takes Jungsu’s hand in his, squeezes it. “Jungsu, don’t worry me like that. Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?”
Jungsu nods but doesn’t say anything. He still looks spooked, Youngwoon can see a touch of it in the deep brown eyes.
“Youngwoon, you should know how Jungsu broke the glasses.”
“Did he drop them?” Youngwoon knows how clumsy Jungsu can be.
“He screamed.”
“…He what?”
“Screamed.”
“I’m so sorry, Youngwoon, I didn’t mean to,” Jungsu blurts out in chimes.
Youngwoon is still trying to understand how a scream could shatter glass when it suddenly hits him.
Chimes.
“Your voice,” Youngwoon says, hushed, afraid if he voices it aloud it will disappear. “How…?”
“Precisely.”
Everyone jumps. There, in the open doorway, is a young man in a buttercream suit with pale orange hair. His skin is pale, but his eyes are dark and sharp as he eyes the young men.
“Why are you regressing?” the man asks in cherrywood.
“W…Wait a…” Hyukjae can’t speak. He hears the undertones and has a suspicion, but still…
“Oh, right,” and the man walks forward, is at their side in six steps. “I suppose it’s progressing if you want to look at it from that particular view. But from my point of view, it’s going the other way, so…” He leans down, head tilted as he looks at Jungsu.
Youngwoon is on his feet, toe-to-toe with the stranger. His hand is protective on Jungsu’s shoulder, his body in front as a human shield. His eyes are narrowed, mouth tight. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
The stranger blinks, looks past Youngwoon at Jungsu. “Well, you know me. Or I suppose you did and you’ve forgotten.”
“Answer me.”
The stranger’s eyes meet Youngwoon’s, and now they’re not just sharp, they’re razors. “Watch your tone, boy,” he warns. But seeing that Youngwoon hasn’t flinched, his face softens. Just a little. “I was called Zhou Mi when I was here. You may call me that now.”
“You’re an angel,” Hyukjae states.
Zhou Mi regards him with a look that plainly says, “No, really, you stupid human” but says nothing.
“You’re not taking him back,” Youngwoon almost growls out, hand tightening just a bit on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Kangin,” Jungsu tries to soothe him. But as the whisper of willows slip into the name, Zhou Mi’s look changes as if he’s studying something, and Jungsu says nothing else.
“How long?” Zhou Mi asks in pine.
“Only today,” Jungsu answers in wool.
“He screamed during a horror movie,” Hyukjae adds in. Now the studying gaze is on him, and he squirms under the angel’s gaze.
“What film?”
“Some American movie.” He swallows. “Opening scene.”
Zhou Mi frowns, looks to the television where Hyukjae has paused the movie. Something falls back in his eyes, and his head twitches to the right, as if he’s brushing away someone who isn’t there. But the whispers cannot be ignored, and now Zhou Mi understands why the fallen angel speaks in tones again.
“You’re remembering,” he states.
“Remembering what? His time as an angel?” In the back of his mind, Youngwoon tries to push away the name that has risen to the surface, the name of the man who caused the angel so much pain.
“His time as a human.”
Jungsu shakes his head. “I don’t…”
“Your former life. It’s coming back.”
***
In another part of town, a wind picks up on a remote street. It picks up the scattered remains of papers and garbage that still litter the corners of the sidewalks.
The whispers start, jumbled ramblings of the already-dead and others we don’t even know of.
And in the closet of an abandoned apartment above a small grocery store, you should know that a crack has formed from the floor up. It’s only three-and-a-half inches high, barely a sixteenth-of-an-inch wide.
But it wasn’t there before.
And now it stirs.
tbc...
pairing: kangin/eeteuk (side donghae/eunhyuk)
rating: R
warnings: dark themes
summary: how far would you go to find the truth?
notes: this is what happens when i put off school work. :P
disclaimer: i do not own the members of super junior. maybe the fairies will help me get them...
Puzzles require a lot of pieces and people to put it together. So, he reasons, his orders are appropriately given. This is what he does: studies and picks apart the little things that make the creatures pulse with life.
He wrinkles his nose as he looks around. He was not prepared for the smell. As he watches people walk by, he sees he has not prepared for dress either. So he blinks, and everything shifts, and now he fits in. He sneaks a glance at a store window, tucks some of his pale orange hair back into place.
“Tai wan mei,” he says to himself before striding down the sidewalk.
***
Panic.
That’s all on Youngwoon’s mind as he races down the block from the garage where he parked the car. All of the scenarios race through his mind - cut by a knife, burn on the stove, fell out the window, fell through the window, robbed, beaten---
“Hang on, Teukie,” he pants as he takes the stairs two at a time. He’s been saying it since he left the police station, since he’d gotten that call from Hyukjae, since he heard something happened to Jungsu. It’s his worst nightmare, and no, he’s not going to let anything happen this time, not to him, not to Jungsu, not while he’s within reach…
He’s gasping for air, but he sees the apartment door. He bursts through it, nightstick raised and ready. “Where is it?! Where’s the perp?!” he yells.
“…Youngwoon.”
Youngwoon looks, sees Hyukjae sitting with Jungsu on the couch. Hyukjae’s hands are on Jungsu’s shoulders, almost as if to keep him there.
“What the hell,” Hyukjae states, pointing to the nightstick. Youngwoon, suddenly self-conscious, lowers it. Then he realizes that there’s no threat in the apartment.
“Damn it, Hyuk!” Youngwoon growls out, stalking over to the couch. “You said something happened to Jungsu.”
“Technically, something did.” He nods to the kitchen counter. “He broke some glasses.”
“Oh…” Youngwoon can’t really say anything else, so he sits on the armchair near Jungsu, takes Jungsu’s hand in his, squeezes it. “Jungsu, don’t worry me like that. Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?”
Jungsu nods but doesn’t say anything. He still looks spooked, Youngwoon can see a touch of it in the deep brown eyes.
“Youngwoon, you should know how Jungsu broke the glasses.”
“Did he drop them?” Youngwoon knows how clumsy Jungsu can be.
“He screamed.”
“…He what?”
“Screamed.”
“I’m so sorry, Youngwoon, I didn’t mean to,” Jungsu blurts out in chimes.
Youngwoon is still trying to understand how a scream could shatter glass when it suddenly hits him.
Chimes.
“Your voice,” Youngwoon says, hushed, afraid if he voices it aloud it will disappear. “How…?”
“Precisely.”
Everyone jumps. There, in the open doorway, is a young man in a buttercream suit with pale orange hair. His skin is pale, but his eyes are dark and sharp as he eyes the young men.
“Why are you regressing?” the man asks in cherrywood.
“W…Wait a…” Hyukjae can’t speak. He hears the undertones and has a suspicion, but still…
“Oh, right,” and the man walks forward, is at their side in six steps. “I suppose it’s progressing if you want to look at it from that particular view. But from my point of view, it’s going the other way, so…” He leans down, head tilted as he looks at Jungsu.
Youngwoon is on his feet, toe-to-toe with the stranger. His hand is protective on Jungsu’s shoulder, his body in front as a human shield. His eyes are narrowed, mouth tight. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
The stranger blinks, looks past Youngwoon at Jungsu. “Well, you know me. Or I suppose you did and you’ve forgotten.”
“Answer me.”
The stranger’s eyes meet Youngwoon’s, and now they’re not just sharp, they’re razors. “Watch your tone, boy,” he warns. But seeing that Youngwoon hasn’t flinched, his face softens. Just a little. “I was called Zhou Mi when I was here. You may call me that now.”
“You’re an angel,” Hyukjae states.
Zhou Mi regards him with a look that plainly says, “No, really, you stupid human” but says nothing.
“You’re not taking him back,” Youngwoon almost growls out, hand tightening just a bit on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Kangin,” Jungsu tries to soothe him. But as the whisper of willows slip into the name, Zhou Mi’s look changes as if he’s studying something, and Jungsu says nothing else.
“How long?” Zhou Mi asks in pine.
“Only today,” Jungsu answers in wool.
“He screamed during a horror movie,” Hyukjae adds in. Now the studying gaze is on him, and he squirms under the angel’s gaze.
“What film?”
“Some American movie.” He swallows. “Opening scene.”
Zhou Mi frowns, looks to the television where Hyukjae has paused the movie. Something falls back in his eyes, and his head twitches to the right, as if he’s brushing away someone who isn’t there. But the whispers cannot be ignored, and now Zhou Mi understands why the fallen angel speaks in tones again.
“You’re remembering,” he states.
“Remembering what? His time as an angel?” In the back of his mind, Youngwoon tries to push away the name that has risen to the surface, the name of the man who caused the angel so much pain.
“His time as a human.”
Jungsu shakes his head. “I don’t…”
“Your former life. It’s coming back.”
***
In another part of town, a wind picks up on a remote street. It picks up the scattered remains of papers and garbage that still litter the corners of the sidewalks.
The whispers start, jumbled ramblings of the already-dead and others we don’t even know of.
And in the closet of an abandoned apartment above a small grocery store, you should know that a crack has formed from the floor up. It’s only three-and-a-half inches high, barely a sixteenth-of-an-inch wide.
But it wasn’t there before.
And now it stirs.
tbc...