Ursa Minor [2016] part i
Title: Ursa Minor
Pairing: Jongin/Kyungsoo
Genre: angst, romance
Rating: NC-15
Warning: suicide, minor character death
Length: 15,406
Summary: The multiplying suicide cases around the city have been connected to a mysterious club that nobody, even the police, seems to be able to put their hands on. In the midst of it all, Kyungsoo meets Jongin.
Disclaimer: concept borrowed from Sono Sion's movie, Suicide Club.
The sound of the television barely reaches Kyungsoo’s ears anymore. The upbeat melody of this new prepubescent girl group’s latest single fades in a quiet buzz, the sounds melting together into something unrecognizable. It’s been playing everywhere for a few days now, on tv, the radio, outside cafes and clothing stores, even outside the Etude House right down the street, and on weekends when the streets are especially lively he can hear it from his room.
The melody is catchy but somehow he can never seem to remember it, and this morning the song doesn’t even get to him. The morning news follow, voices indiscernible in the background as he gets ready for school without really thinking about anything. He can’t make out the anchor’s voice from his parent’s quiet bickering in the kitchen down the hall, the clattering of utensils shaking him out of his stupor and he blinks once, twice before looking out his bedroom’s window. The sky is grey like it has been for weeks, yet it seems a shade darker and the clouds seem heavier. However it’s still nothing more than another ordinary autumn morning, and he lets it go, picking up his bag, wondering if he should bother grabbing his unfinished physics homework laying on his desk. He decides against it, walking to the door to leave. He stops for a moment by the living room, his eyes flicking to the television more by reflex than anything close to interest.
Again, nothing registers in his mind because the news are always just repetitive stories told in a monotonous voice, and nobody really cares about them, honestly.
A car pileup on the highway caused five severely injured but no casualties.
An important government diplomat has been caught in a corruption affair.
The images and sounds blur into each other, and he’s not sure why, the moment he decides he has to leave, something there catches his attention.
The screen displays a road security camera recorded video of a couple holding hands, running in front of a speeding car. The image is grainy, the body reduced to vague silhouettes caught from a distance, but Kyungsoo guesses they’re very young from what looks like a uniform blazer on one of the two forms, just before the car hits them and the video cuts as the shadows of the bodies roll under the wheels.
It’s surely not the first suicide recorded in the archives of the Seoul police, and although shocking, there shouldn’t be anything special about this one either. Kyungsoo is already late, and as he jogs down the hallway to the elevator, he can’t shake the thought off his mind that it’s the fifth mediated suicide in barely ten days.
-
It’s three days later that Kyungsoo realizes something is wrong. This time, it’s not a blurry, faceless figure that disappears in front of his eyes. The figure is there, clear, the shape burning itself into his retinas. He doesn’t move, and as he looks at the legs dangling from the ceiling, he is reminded of the dark, threatening clouds that morning that just keep getting darker, larger, enveloping the city, yet the rain never comes.
He does not look up, keeping his eyes levelled with the suspended legs that sway gently in circle. It’s strange because the windows are closed, not a gush of wind hitting his face, yet the body never stops swaying, and just like the morning news, the ear-splitting screams coming from the corridor are distant in his head.
-
The next morning, flowers don’t quite replace the shadow that still stains the second desk in front of his own. There’s nobody sitting at it, and even though Kyungsoo hears the whispers of why Sehun, he was such a good kid, such a good student, what a tragedy, he can’t seem to match a face to the name on everyone’s lips. He doesn’t remember ever talking to Sehun, doesn’t remember his voice or even sharing a look with him in the hallway.
Kyungsoo is not exactly sad, yet something hollow weighs down in his gut. Maybe he’s trying too hard to find a face that just didn’t exist in his memories in the first place. So what’s the point?
There’s guilt mingling with the hollow something and it doesn’t leave, doesn’t subside even a bit as the day passes slowly. He’s still sitting at his desk when the walls fade from red to black. The teacher is long gone.
« Huh, what are you still doing here? »
Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed the door sliding open nor a student walking in, eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind thick strands of hair. The boy’s eyes are so black they seem to absorb any remaining light in the room, bottomless but empty, neither cold nor warm. It’s when the boy blinks and clears his throat that Kyungsoo realizes he’d been staring. He shakes his head to resurface from his thoughts, shivering a little at the sight of the student still watching him, a humorless smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
« Sorry, I just- I was just thinking, I guess. »
The boy walks up to Sehun’s desk, nonchalantly gesturing to the withered flowers before replacing them with a bouquet Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed he’d brought. He claps is hands twice and closes his eyes, immobile for an instant that passes quickly. As the boy turns around to leave, Kyungsoo feels as though the words he spoke are not his.
« Do you- I mean, did you huh, know him? »
« Not really, well, as much as you get to know someone by spending a few months in the same school? I was assigned by random lottery for this, if that’s what you’re asking. I have to do it for a couple weeks only. »
« No, hum, it’s just… I can’t seem to remember him. Not even his face, you know? I’ve been in his class from the beginning of the year, but I can’t recall his voice, like if he’s ever read from the textbook out loud or something…. I mean, there was someone named Sehun in this class, right? I keep thinking about it but- »
« Why does it matter? He’s dead. It’s not like you were close so I don’t see the big deal. »
It’s true, of course. He was never close with Sehun. His death didn’t do a dent in his life, but the absence of memories nags at the back of his mind, as if the boy had suddenly appeared to him in his disappearance.
« I feel bad for him, I guess. I didn’t mean to forget him. »
The other student scoffs, walking the two or three steps that separate them. Kyungsoo winces as the boy stands right before him, his dark hair falling over his eyes, lips reduced to a thin line, fists clenched white. Kyungsoo can finally get a closer look at him. He looks exhausted, but there’s a profoundness to it that seems to impregnate his whole body, digging at his cheeks and clinging at his dark skin. It’s as if just standing there wears him down.
« That’s just hypocritical bullshit. Why care for someone you never bothered acknowledging before? What’s the fucking point in that? »
Kyungsoo feels shaken, not having expected this reaction. He can’t seem to predict the other boy’s actions, can’t even begin to understand what he’s thinking, and it scares him. He wants to apologize, take back his words, but the boy doesn’t let him.
« Before worrying about dead people, you should consider your own life a little. Who cares who Oh Sehun was and what he did? He killed himself because he didn’t even know that himself. What’s truly important is your connection to yourself. So, are you connected to yourself? Why are you here? Who are you? »
« I’m… Do Kyungsoo… » He’s confused. What does that even mean? That guy’s crazy Kyungsoo thinks, or he needs a month’s worth of sleep.
« Yeah, sure, I mean, my name’s Jongin, but that’s not relevant at all. Who are you really? If you don’t find that connection to yourself, sooner or later, you’re gonna end up like him » Like Sehun, Kyungsoo echoes in his head. « It’s far too late to establish a connection in his place, and looking for him won’t fill the void in your existence. Then, there is only one way out. »
The boy, Jongin, turns on his heels and makes his way back to the open door of the classroom. He entered it quietly like a breeze but leaves it in a storm, thunder still pounding in the confines of Kyungsoo’s chest.
-
He lies in bed that night with fragments of the strange student’s speech whirling in his head. Jongin, he’d said his name was Jongin, despite it not exactly being an introduction.
Kyungsoo turns and squirms under his blanket in a vain attempt at finding sleep, but a persistant string of energy continuously runs through his limbs, just enough to keep him awake. He turns on his side, eyes wide open staring at the black emptiness of his room. Every time he closes his eyes, Jongin’s dark pupils appear behind his eyelids amidst the phosphenes, and the city outside is silent, the echo of the boy’s words loud and clear in his head until it hurts.
He thinks about Sehun then, tries to focus on something tangible, a laugh, a hair color, a detail missing, but he draws a blank. He can only recall the faint swaying of legs suspended midair, and the harsh light of the neons he shouldn’t have switched on just yesterday, a yesterday that might be decades away now, since his encounter with Jongin feels like it lasted years. Or seconds, maybe, or not at all. It might be impossible to sort out, as he tries to grasp the meaning behind Jongin’s sudden appearance earlier, and why he’d unexpectedly lashed out at him, a complete stranger. He’d seemed so serious, like he was giving him a warning. The way he had spoken about Sehun somehow let believe he knew more than he’d let Kyungsoo know. Jongin had almost made a point of implying, hinting at what he’d wanted to say, leaving Kyungsoo with enigmas and makeshift scenarios multiplying and multiplying in his head, fuelling his insomnia late into the night.
-
People say that the more you look for something, the less likely are your chances to find it. It’s like a force of nature. This, of course, means that Kyungsoo doesn’t catch a glimpse of Jongin for exactly eight days. It’s not that he’s been counting, but the days succeed to each other mechanically, as if they simply check themselves off the calendar, and Kyungsoo can only add them up. Another disappearance that screams loudly at him in its evidence, taunting him.
One afternoon, Kyungsoo attempts to catch Jongin by staying late after class, when the other boy is supposed to bring a change of colors to Sehun’s memorial bouquet. He ends up falling asleep at his desk, waking up with a start, and the shaky hand softly ruffling his hair seems like a distant dream. The lights are off and the flowers might as well have been brought back to life.
On the eight day after he’d met Jongin, Kyungsoo thinks about giving up, and even though he remembers the boy so distinctly, he thinks their encounter might have been a really lucid dream, a symptom caused by shock, trauma, a psychologic reaction to cope with Sehun’s death. He’d spent the week expecting the other boy to appear, but nothing.
It’s too hard on him, he’s tired of struggling with his thoughts and the lack of sleep and the throbbing headache digging into his skull like something bigger than himself is growing in his head, eating at his insides.
It’s extremely tacky, Kyungsoo thinks, or someone is playing a cruel trick on him. He could’ve spotted Jongin in the hallway or bumped shoulders in the cafeteria, but instead he finds the boy curled up in a bathroom stall, like it’s all part of some melodramatic teenager flick. It kind of feels like the end of the episode, when the supporting character reveals an abused past and wallows in self pity. Of course Kyungsoo’s life is nothing out of an afternoon drama, but as he follows the chocked coughs and looks down at Jongin sprawled on the floor with his hair drenched, shades of blues and purples blossoming at the corner of his mouth and across the bridge of his nose, Kyungsoo waits for the ending credits to take off.
To be continued.
Jongin straightens up into a sitting position, hissing as he knocks his head on the toilet paper dispenser. Kyungsoo just stares, because what else can he do? Jongin looks up at him behind his dark fringe sticking to his forehead, expression unreadable. He’s exactly how Kyungsoo remembered him, and much more.
His eyes are holes, and Kyungsoo gets sucked in. Jongin coughs blood, Jongin coughs words. It somehow feels the same.
« Have you found a connection to yourself? » His voice is just a little over a whisper, low and trembling. There’s a hint of hope in his tone, the sting of his words from the other day completely gone, but his mind still seems miles away. Maybe he’s not talking to Kyungsoo; maybe the words are directed to himself, and he wants Kyungsoo to answer in his place, like he’s asking him to take the decisions.
It’s been over a week and he still doesn’t understand what Jongin means by connection. He can’t bring himself to ask, scared he’d somehow disappoint him. He feels obliged to that boy with dishevelled hair and bloodied lips, that boy with skin the color of milk tea dripping and contrasting with the glistening white tiles of the school’s bathroom floor.
He doesn’t ask what happened, doesn’t ask if he’s okay. He doesn’t know Jongin yet but he can tell it’s not what the boy wants to hear. Consider your own life a little, he’d said. He sits besides Jongin, not caring about the water wetting his pants, resting his chin on his knees.
Jongin stiffens at that, and Kyungsoo can only glance at him from the corner of his eye, trying desperately to keep his breathing steady.
« What I said the other day, I meant it, you know. It’s time you start asking yourself the right questions. I don’t want you to end up like Sehun. » It sounds like worry. His eyebrow are drawn together stubbornly and he bites his lip where blood has smeared from a small cut.
« You don’t have much time to begin with. Sehun ran out of his prematurely, or he found out that no matter the amount of time given, he could never find his connection. The Suicide Circle caught him. »
Nothing makes much sense to Kyungsoo, but if he’s got one thing figured out, it’s that Jongin really is talking to himself. It’s a pity, Kyungsoo realizes, that he doesn’t have any answer to give, that he can’t take any decisions.
-
It’s still a grey morning, but Kyungsoo’s parents are away. He’d turned the television on just to drown the silence in the house but what he sees makes him want to turn it off instantly.
Yet, he doesn’t.
… awaiting explanations on this horrible incident. This morning around 6 AM at Euljiro Sam Ga station a group of teenage girls jumped in front of an incoming train. The whole line 2 in direction of Ehwa University is now paralyzed for several days in favor of what’s been announced a very long and laborious police investigation. The authorities have yet to identify all the victims but the casualties have escalated to the impressing count of 37 bodies. This is unprecedented.
The tragedy plagues us greatly, and we send our most sincere support to the families affected. Let us join our field journalist along with officer Park, the representative in charge of this horrible case.
- Yes, thank you…
Kyungsoo is barely listening now, his thoughts burying every sound around him. His vision is wavering slightly and the walls are closing in on him dangerously.
… seen this term mentioned frequently on social networks and forums lately, the ‘’Suicide Club’’ or ‘’Suicide Circle’’ has even been trending on Naver this week. The authorities think this group, that we’ve yet to discover the purpose of, might be responsible for the massive number of suicide cases that have been occurring all around the city for the past two months. Further investigations are currently in process…
Of course the first thing that comes to mind is Jongin. In that moment, he is so panicked, so absolutely terrified by the truth unveiling itself, but it only sparks new questions, new uncertainties.
He doesn’t know what to make of Jongin now, of what his words hide, of what his eyes imply. It has all become too big for him to handle alone.
He still doesn’t know what the ‘’Suicide Circle’’ is, that among everything Jongin had said to him. He doesn’t know what it is, so why are they talking about it on national television? Hearing Jongin’s words out of someone else’s mouth is terrifying. It makes them real.
-
During the following days, the body count on the train tracks goes up and finally stops at 54. Five of these girls attended Kyungsoo’s school, one of them was from the class next to his.
In hopes of drawing a conclusion, teachers give speeches and more flowers are placed on desks to make people forget more than to help them remember, leaving Kyungsoo in the middle of it all wondering where the smiles and the laughter come from.
Nobody seems to be sharing the headaches and heavy nausea he wakes up to every morning, following him on his way to school and fading at the end of the day when faces start to blur and walls begin to spin uncontrollably. The air is humid and sticks to his skin, but the cold wind has shivers running down his spine.
The indifferent smiles make him sick, and one afternoon he runs out of class and throws up what he has left of bile in the bathroom, splashing water to his face and hoping he’ll wake up or something along those lines. He grips the edge of the sink and gasps at his reflexion in the dirty mirror. For the first time, he notices how pale is skin is, almost grey. His large eyes are rimmed by dark circles and his short hair is tousled, unkempt.
He adverts his eyes almost instantly. More than being scared, Kyungsoo is lost. It’s unsettling when you’re not sure if it’s yourself you can’t recognize, or everyone else. Jongin had spoken to him about connection, yet he has never felt so disconnected in his entire life.
-
On a Thursday morning, approximately one week after what the media had baptized ‘’The Train Incident’’ (the word incident is greatly misused, but it brings peace of mind to confused ears, gives a false sense of finality to a case far too illogical and complex for Mr. Everybody’s already limited capacity to think, to care), the direction summons the entire student body in the gymnasium for a briefing on the latest events.
Kyungsoo wonders why he still bothers coming to school. His head is so full that he just stops thinking, at times, and classes pass in a daze, the content of the lesson totally forgotten by the time the bell rings. It’s days and days without seeing Jongin, again, since their encounter in the bathroom. This time, he fights the urge to look for him, knowing the mere sight of the other boy might send his thoughts astray again. He doesn’t need any more unanswered questions.
It’s ironic, really, that tan skin and pitch-black hair appear to him like a vision among the rows of standing students, but he forces himself to look away.
He understands why Jongin had been so out of his reach, and he feels stupid. He’s immobile, standing in the rows near the front, with the other first years. First years who have most of their classes in the next building, somewhere Kyungsoo never sets foot in since he went up a grade. It makes sense, but then not. He thinks of the dried up flowers, of random lottery, all empty words. He wonders if Jongin still goes up all the way to his class to change the flowers. He hasn’t noticed if they’re fresh or dead for a while now; he doesn’t pay attention to anything much.
Jongin is one year younger than him, he realizes, and it’s somewhat disturbing to know that he’s older than a boy who seems to know too much about life, and already seems like he’s lost himself in it.
« … have been informed that the police has confirmed the connection between the recent internet sensation, the Suicide Club, and the terrible incidents that have plagued our city and, furthermore, our dear school, for the past months. The Suicide Club has been mentioned on numerous forum pages and social networking sites. Preventive measures coming from the head of the police department include a minimized dissemination of any information on the subject as to contain the trend and prevent other incidents, as well as an immediate report to the direction or the police if an individual gets access to this information. As respectable and responsible members of this society, I would like all of you to cooperate. The school has its student’s safety in priority… »
Kyungsoo’s only half listening at this point.
To hold such a speech is pointless, honestly. In this very moment, people are dying all around the city, from the summits of the highest skyscrapers to the deepest corners of Seoul. It’s certainly why this case seems so intricate; there is no pattern, no clue. There is no distinction between salary men and teenagers, housewives or policemen. One day it’s a renowned chaebol or a popular idol, and the next it’s the old woman from the convenience store down the street.
There is no trail to follow because there is no culprit.
As he exits the gymnasium in the mindless swarm of tired students, Kyungsoo makes what is probably one of the easiest decisions of his life, which is to not turn Jongin in to the direction. He’s sure the boy is more or less involved in whatever the Suicide Circle might be, but Kyungsoo needs explanations, he needs so badly to understand so he can sleep, so he can finally breathe again.
He wants to talk to Jongin, now, he’s certain of it.
-
Days run at an alarmingly fast pace, blurring out the red with the grey sky and the water Kyungsoo splashes to his face to keep himself anchored, even if he doesn’t know what to. He tries to ignore the suicides that pile up endlessly, but it’s too late. Maybe the trick would’ve worked at the beginning, but the situation is far too out of control. The rumors and speculations spread like a virus and fear slowly starts to ooze from the streets, bordering on panic.
To some, it’s not even fear but excitement, deaths treated like bets and games, passed around like gossip around dinner or with a coworker over a cup of coffee. It’s fun when you’re convinced it can only happen to other people, but then there’s that petty dumbstruck expression when the husband hangs himself or the accountant next door swallows a whole bottle of medication.
There’s no stopping it, but still, life goes on, at least for the ones who are left behind, and Kyungsoo wonders if Jongin is one of them, or if he’s just getting ready to leave. He hopes it’s the former, because despite barely knowing him, he thinks he wants to try and fix Jongin with the ounce of sanity he has left, and something close to sympathy. He assumes that’s what it is, this weight in his heart that draws him to Jongin so strongly he thinks he gets into a trance sometimes, pulled in without being aware of it, coming to his senses only when their eyes meet and Jongin looks away, vanishing in the crowd. In those moments, he can only exhale the oxygen he’d been holding in and blink a few times to hopefully erase Jongin’s expression, a shadow sticking to his vision as if he’d been looking at the sun for too long.
-
He pushes open the door of the bathroom, stepping into the empty corridor. Indiscernible murmurs are muffled into the walls, teachers and students engrossed in lessons, and a faint scent of flowers permeates the air. His footsteps resonate loudly in his ears, and he focuses on the sound until he hears a clear voice down the hall.
« Say something! »
And another one.
« Yeah Jongin, he asked you a question! »
His steps resonate more and more loudly, until he starts to hear other steps, distant, heavier. He stops at the staircase entrance, frozen. The picture in front of him is off, surreal in its normality. There are five boys climbing up the stairs, boys Kyungsoo has never seen. In the middle, Jongin stands out inevitably. He has a new bruise on his jaw, Kyungsoo notices. They all talk expressively and laugh and shout like they don’t care someone could catch them skipping class, except Jongin and it’s strange that he’s never seen Jongin with anyone before. It doesn’t feel normal. They pass him without even a look his way, going up to the third floor, but when he looks up the stairwell is empty and the bang of a door closing above echoes all around him.
The rooftop?
He doesn’t- He just doesn’t get it.
It’s weird, really, that he’s never seen Jongin with anyone before. Yet it felt more natural than what he’s just witnessed. It makes him nervous and uneasy.
He goes up the first step, then the second, and suddenly he’s climbing them two by two with an urgency in his breath and a heavy heartbeat to match his steps. He reaches the door and doesn’t even hesitate to push it open. It’s surprisingly light and he stumbles forward on dark concrete. The sun is high, a cold and fuzzy halo cutting through the clouds, and he lifts a hand to shield his eyes. A shiver crawls up his spine as the wind bites his skin and eyes slowly turn to him.
He looks towards the horizon; it’s way higher than he’d imagined and although it’s like he’s on top of the world, he still feels small and helpless.
« Hey! What are you doing here? »
« Fuck, is he going to snitch? »
« Wait, aren’t you that second year who’s always alone and goes out to puke during all his classes? »
They all laugh except Jongin who turns to him, finally, eyes widening and brows furrowing in confusion. Kyungsoo feels dizzy and the sharp laughter makes his ears sting. He averts his eyes from Jongin’s unnerving stare and looks up to a tall boy that stands right before him. He’s really intimidating, Kyungsoo thinks. All over the place. What the hell is Jongin doing with a guy like him? All his features seem too big and disproportionate; big ears, huge eyes, wide grin. Too much teeth. Too much hair. Not enough personal space.
« Does he want to join us? » A voice asks somewhere behind.
« Do you want to join us? » It’s too much again. Too deep and too loud.
Whatever they’re talking about, Kyungsoo doesn’t want to join them. He only wanted to check on Jongin. He shakes his head, eyes wide. The giant shrugs and runs to the edge of the building.
« Let’s go guys, come on! We don’t have all day! »
« Alright, calm down. » A boy with auburn hair and a face somewhat similar to Jongin’s but with brighter eyes and a kind smile tugs Jongin by the arm. « Let’s go. » Another one, short with a round face and weird arched eyebrows sighs heavily and they all walk to join the tall guy still eagerly gesticulating and shouting at them to hurry up.
Jongin looks behind his shoulder towards Kyungsoo, but fuck, he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know what Jongin wants from him, he’s never known. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, why’re they’re suddenly standing on the edge, holding hands.
The boy with auburn hair stands to the left with Jongin, a tight grip on his wrist keeping him in place.
Kyungsoo can’t move, can’t even blink as he watches the incongruous scene unfold under the grey sky, clouds accumulating overhead.
« Let’s do it for the Suicide Club! » The words don’t register in Kyungsoo’s head; it’s as if he’s watching a comedy show after school and the host just blurted out a misplaced joke. Nothing is real, nothing makes sense.
« On the count of three! Okay Jongin? » The boy with auburn hair nudges at Jongin with his elbow. In any other circumstances it would have been warm and friendly, but it’s not.
« Everyone ready? One, two, th- »
« Wait! Wait, wait wait. » It’s weird-arched-eyebrows boy who interrupts the countdown, sounding frantic. « Are you guys serious? You really gonna do it? » Everyone sighs in annoyance.
« Of course idiot! » The giant smacks him across the head. « Fuck, Minseok, get it together, you in or not? Okay, let’s start over. »
It’s a really breathtaking picture, the sun piercing through the heavy clouds, the smiles, the interlaced fingers, the wind playing with white shirts and through strands of hair. It’s distant, like he’s not really part of this. He might just be a stranger intruding on their moment, peeking from a crack on the wall.
« One, »
The wind cuts Kyungsoo’s bare arms. It’s not even winter yet, but the air is dry and freezing. He wishes he had at least worn his long sleeved uniform shirt.
« Two, »
He doesn’t notice he’d started walking until he’s close enough to grab Jongin’s shoulder. The boy looks back at him, mouthing words but no sound reach Kyungsoo’s ears. The wind is too strong and it makes his head pound and his eyes water.
« What? »
Jongin’s face is oddly transparent. Something like a smirk shapes his lips, but it isn’t exactly, since his eyes always look elsewhere, way beyond the horizon. Kyungsoo looks to the side, where things are drawing their conclusion.
« Three. »
A dull, unfamiliar sound, like an impact, or a collision, and the silence returns. His fingers are still gripping Jongin’s shoulder so he lets go quickly. Jongin is looking down to the ground, eyes widening, leaning a little too much over the edge and he staggers dangerously, stepping back on the cold asphalt of the rooftop.
His legs give out but he doesn’t feel the ground scrapping his skin. Jongin sits down as well, both of them trembling horribly.
Minutes pass, only minutes although it feels like hours. The bell rings but it’s muted and goes unnoticed. Kyungsoo looks at Jongin still out of breath, his hair a mess just as the roof door slams open again, the teacher’s screams blurred out in his head. He’s drowning, probably, because Jongin’s face is distorted, like when you’re underwater and you look up to the surface. The sounds don’t reach him at all, not even his heartbeat, people are tugging at his arms and wrists and touch his face but he’s numb, he’s reaching the seabed slowly because the lights are fading, giving way to darkness.
-
It's blurry at first, blotches of grey with light mixed in, spots dancing before his eyes and assaulting his retinas. He slowly gets a hold of his senses again and the grey turns to a ceiling, the spots to harsh neons above him. There's a buzzing sound resounding from everywhere at the same time, and when he listens close enough, he can discern a quiet and even breathing to his right.
Kyungsoo isn't sure where he's supposed to be, until he finally moves an inch, stirs a muscle of his neck and feels cotton under his fingers. Probably the infirmary. He shifts his head in direction of the breathing and is met with the back of a boy seated at the edge of the bed.
He knows it’s Jongin just by the strain in his shoulders and the overall weariness to his figure, he knows it’s him even before the boy turns to him and if Kyungsoo had expected anything, he would’ve been disappointed by the impassive expression Jongin offers him once more, even after all this. He isn’t disappointed, but maybe just slightly put off, irritated. He sits up and straightens his back, hoping it’ll give him assurance.
« Why did you come to the roof, Kyungsoo? » Again, his voice is monotone, but there’s something else to it. Like he’s scared. It brings him back to that day in the classroom, with flowers between them, when the shadows were still concealable and the scent of flowers was still fresh rather than pungent, overwhelming. Again, Jongin’s eyes hold him prisoner.
It’s another question for which no answer is expected, but Kyungsoo still answers, like he can’t help himself.
« You never stroke me as the type to make friends. » It comes out sounding like a joke, but he didn’t mean to. Jongin snorts flatly, unamused.
« What does it matter to you? »
What does it matter to me?
The words scream at him like an accusation. It’s not like he’d never thought about it, but it had never felt as important as it feels right then.
« I- I don’t know. Yet. But I want to. I think you need help, but so do I. I think we both do. I feel something, when I speak with you, like it makes it better even though it makes it worse. I’m scared, you know? I’m fucking terrified of what just happened, of them, of you. » It’s more than that, he knows. He’s scared of the absence of Jongin. He’s scared of him becoming them. « Everyone is leaving. But I need someone to stay with me, I need someone to not leave for once. »
« Kyungsoo. » He speaks without opening his mouth, almost. « Calm down. » He leans in and Kyungsoo feels dizzy again.
Silence settles around them, stretching time for a moment that seems never ending, while in reality it’s probably only a minute before Jongin speaks again.
« I don’t- I don’t know what to do either. I don’t understand what I’m doing here, I never did. Everyone around me is leaving, too. What is there left for me? I don’t think I can live solely for myself. I don’t think I can make it then. »
When he looks up into Kyungsoo’s eyes, they’re one step closer. One inch, one foot, one mile. He can’t measure, but they’re closer. He still doesn’t understand much, not the suicides, not the dread that’s been weighing him down for weeks, but he understands Jongin a little better, and that’s enough.
He can work with that. He has to start somewhere, right?
The door clicks and opens, a teacher barging in unceremoniously, startling the two boys. « I see mister Do is awake. Some public officers would like to speak with you two. Follow me, please. » Kyungsoo still feels weak, only halfway back into his own body, but there isn’t really much of a choice. The teacher’s eyes are wide with impatience as they both nod, following him out the door and into the empty corridor.
They are taken to a vacant classroom at the end of the hallway. The desks have been pushed together against the walls, and by the window stand two officers, talking animatedly. It’s already nearing late afternoon; the sun is setting behind them, casting heavy shadows over their faces. It must be around 6pm, Kyungsoo guesses. He was unconscious for a long time.
The teacher leaves, closing the door behind himself. He glances towards Jongin and notices the shortened distance between them.
One of the two men, the one who appears to be of a certain age with a severe frown behind small glasses, turns to Kyungsoo.
« I would like you to undress, please. » The man clears his throat before explaining himself. « We are looking for apparent forms of self-harm scars. Since you were involved in today’s incident, you are primary suspects. Your cooperation is important for the progress of this investigation, so please listen to orders and we’ll be finished in ten minutes. »
Kyungsoo steps up on unsteady legs, not knowing where to look as he removes his shirt, then his pants. It all seems extremely unprofessional, to be doing this there, at school, just like that. Shouldn’t there be a protocol for these kind of things? The other officer, a young man griping his jacket across his chest, releases one of his sleeves and motions for Kyungsoo to turn around.
He holds his breath even though he doesn’t have anything to hide, and he turns to face Jongin who’d been standing behind him, leaning against the wall. Their eyes lock and the distance decreases slightly once more. Jongin’s gaze pierces through him and it sends a shiver tearing down his body.
The officers allow Kyungsoo to put his uniform back on and call for Jongin, who steps up without a word and removes his clothes calmly. Jongin’s skin marbled with patches of setting sun is nearly flawless, if not for the horrific scar on his waist, a large rectangular piece of skin missing, gaping red and smooth like a cicatrized burn but too definite, almost calculated. The cops, alarmed, inspect it thoroughly, even if Jongin brushes it off as some result of a childhood accident. They seem unsettled but there are no other scars, no cuts on his wrists or his thighs, no cigarette burns, so they give in, and Jongin covers himself again. The scar disappears behind the white fabric of his shirt, yet the red remains like a stain in Kyungsoo’s mind. He can still see it on Jongin, through his uniform shirt, he can almost smell the blood soaking Jongin’s clothes.
-
There are some questions asked, but it feels dragged, somewhat half-assed despite the urgency of the case, or so Kyungsoo thinks. Jongin stays like a wall, eyes downcast and lips sealed. Kyungsoo would rather be somewhere else, but when he tries to figure out where he’d want to go, he draws a blank.
They’re excused for the rest of the evening to recover from any possible trauma. It’s laughable, really. Kyungsoo doesn’t feel different from the day or even the week before, but he goes along with their assumption. What will staying here accomplish, at this point? In the corridor, through the windows, he looks at the students quietly sitting at their desks, studying subjects they don’t understand, memorizing textbooks to fill their brains, totally unaware that those same classrooms, those same desks are emptying themselves more and more every day, forgetting the face of their friends, maybe even forgetting their own. It’s impressive, in a way, how the school handled the situation so smoothly, how they managed to erase the death of those teenagers before anybody could notice. Preventive measures coming from the head of the police department include a minimized dissemination of any information on the subject as to contain the trend and prevent other incidents. Of course, Kyungsoo thinks. How harmful for the school’s reputation would this be, if the information were to spread?
It smells too much like flowers, it’s sickening. Every day the smell gets stronger, and Kyungsoo thinks that soon he won’t be able to bear it.
When he sets foot outside, the sun is still setting, as if the time had stopped the moment he’d woken up beside Jongin in the infirmary. His phone indicates 6:23pm.
« I lied. »
Jongin’s voice feels too close, but when Kyungsoo turns around Jongin is standing a few feet back, the wind blowing his hair in his face. The sound of the boy’s voice echoes in his head as if he’d imagined it, but there’s a tension there, the kind that settles heavily before a revelation; not an elephant in the room per say, but apprehension.
« It wasn’t random lottery. » It takes the time of a short pause for Kyungsoo to make sense of the words.
« Then what- »
« Sehun, he was my best friend. We’ve always had a similar view of the world, but I think he understood something I couldn’t. He figured out what he had to do but I still can’t. He didn’t leave me any hints, nothing. I thought we understood each other, but I still don’t get it, and it’s tiring. I’m so fucking tired. »
Somehow, he’s not really surprised, but he accepts the new piece of information as a step ahead. Maybe not in the right direction, but it’s still a step. It’s better than stagnating in the darkness. He thinks about how, at first, he used Jongin to understand what had happened to Sehun, but now he only hopes every mention of his classmate can help him figure out Jongin a bit more.
« What was that scar, Jongin? How did you get something like that? »
The wind is as strong as it was up on the rooftop earlier that day, and if Jongin had said anything, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. Jongin’s lips stretch into a poor imitation of a smile, except it isn’t one because it doesn’t reach further than that, his eyes are obscure and his skin, even under the sunset, stays dull. The expression doesn’t quite suit him but Kyungsoo hopes it will, one day.
-
That night, instead of distant pop music and the muffled blend of drunken conversations and busy sounds of the city, there’s a constant roaring coming from outside, like cars on the highway speeding past right outside the window. The light penetrating the room hits the walls the same way it does in his bedroom, the moon, the street lights, the exact same neon signs from the cafes and the noraebang across the street, but he’s sitting behind his desk at school. The sun has set a long time ago, and in his head he can hear the faint chatter of students leaving one after the other.
Looking up at the ceiling, he sees his classmate, a rope around the neck. It seems as though he is levitating. Is that Sehun? he thinks, yet he can’t remember who Sehun is. The body is spinning, but every time it’s about to face him, its back appears again and again. Peeking from the collar at the bottom of its nape, a rectangular scar like skin cut sharply with a knife glistens, as if it has just been made.
It looks painful.
Kyungsoo
Looking down, he sees flowers placed on each desk, on the window sills, even a few on the floor. The smell makes him want to vomit.
A boy with tanned skin and dark hair stands by the door.
The Suicide Club doesn’t exist. The Suicide Club doesn’t exist.
Another name comes to mind, a name he can't recognize.
Kyungsoo opens his eyes, but is met by darkness. There's a roaring sound coming from outside, like cars on the highway far in the distance. His clock flashes white blinding digits at his face.
6:23pm. When did he fall asleep?
He hasn’t gone to school for three days now, since the rooftop incident. His parents hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t even looked at him.
He'll go to school tomorrow, he decides.
part ii
Pairing: Jongin/Kyungsoo
Genre: angst, romance
Rating: NC-15
Warning: suicide, minor character death
Length: 15,406
Summary: The multiplying suicide cases around the city have been connected to a mysterious club that nobody, even the police, seems to be able to put their hands on. In the midst of it all, Kyungsoo meets Jongin.
Disclaimer: concept borrowed from Sono Sion's movie, Suicide Club.
The sound of the television barely reaches Kyungsoo’s ears anymore. The upbeat melody of this new prepubescent girl group’s latest single fades in a quiet buzz, the sounds melting together into something unrecognizable. It’s been playing everywhere for a few days now, on tv, the radio, outside cafes and clothing stores, even outside the Etude House right down the street, and on weekends when the streets are especially lively he can hear it from his room.
The melody is catchy but somehow he can never seem to remember it, and this morning the song doesn’t even get to him. The morning news follow, voices indiscernible in the background as he gets ready for school without really thinking about anything. He can’t make out the anchor’s voice from his parent’s quiet bickering in the kitchen down the hall, the clattering of utensils shaking him out of his stupor and he blinks once, twice before looking out his bedroom’s window. The sky is grey like it has been for weeks, yet it seems a shade darker and the clouds seem heavier. However it’s still nothing more than another ordinary autumn morning, and he lets it go, picking up his bag, wondering if he should bother grabbing his unfinished physics homework laying on his desk. He decides against it, walking to the door to leave. He stops for a moment by the living room, his eyes flicking to the television more by reflex than anything close to interest.
Again, nothing registers in his mind because the news are always just repetitive stories told in a monotonous voice, and nobody really cares about them, honestly.
A car pileup on the highway caused five severely injured but no casualties.
An important government diplomat has been caught in a corruption affair.
The images and sounds blur into each other, and he’s not sure why, the moment he decides he has to leave, something there catches his attention.
The screen displays a road security camera recorded video of a couple holding hands, running in front of a speeding car. The image is grainy, the body reduced to vague silhouettes caught from a distance, but Kyungsoo guesses they’re very young from what looks like a uniform blazer on one of the two forms, just before the car hits them and the video cuts as the shadows of the bodies roll under the wheels.
It’s surely not the first suicide recorded in the archives of the Seoul police, and although shocking, there shouldn’t be anything special about this one either. Kyungsoo is already late, and as he jogs down the hallway to the elevator, he can’t shake the thought off his mind that it’s the fifth mediated suicide in barely ten days.
-
It’s three days later that Kyungsoo realizes something is wrong. This time, it’s not a blurry, faceless figure that disappears in front of his eyes. The figure is there, clear, the shape burning itself into his retinas. He doesn’t move, and as he looks at the legs dangling from the ceiling, he is reminded of the dark, threatening clouds that morning that just keep getting darker, larger, enveloping the city, yet the rain never comes.
He does not look up, keeping his eyes levelled with the suspended legs that sway gently in circle. It’s strange because the windows are closed, not a gush of wind hitting his face, yet the body never stops swaying, and just like the morning news, the ear-splitting screams coming from the corridor are distant in his head.
-
The next morning, flowers don’t quite replace the shadow that still stains the second desk in front of his own. There’s nobody sitting at it, and even though Kyungsoo hears the whispers of why Sehun, he was such a good kid, such a good student, what a tragedy, he can’t seem to match a face to the name on everyone’s lips. He doesn’t remember ever talking to Sehun, doesn’t remember his voice or even sharing a look with him in the hallway.
Kyungsoo is not exactly sad, yet something hollow weighs down in his gut. Maybe he’s trying too hard to find a face that just didn’t exist in his memories in the first place. So what’s the point?
There’s guilt mingling with the hollow something and it doesn’t leave, doesn’t subside even a bit as the day passes slowly. He’s still sitting at his desk when the walls fade from red to black. The teacher is long gone.
« Huh, what are you still doing here? »
Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed the door sliding open nor a student walking in, eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind thick strands of hair. The boy’s eyes are so black they seem to absorb any remaining light in the room, bottomless but empty, neither cold nor warm. It’s when the boy blinks and clears his throat that Kyungsoo realizes he’d been staring. He shakes his head to resurface from his thoughts, shivering a little at the sight of the student still watching him, a humorless smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
« Sorry, I just- I was just thinking, I guess. »
The boy walks up to Sehun’s desk, nonchalantly gesturing to the withered flowers before replacing them with a bouquet Kyungsoo hadn’t noticed he’d brought. He claps is hands twice and closes his eyes, immobile for an instant that passes quickly. As the boy turns around to leave, Kyungsoo feels as though the words he spoke are not his.
« Do you- I mean, did you huh, know him? »
« Not really, well, as much as you get to know someone by spending a few months in the same school? I was assigned by random lottery for this, if that’s what you’re asking. I have to do it for a couple weeks only. »
« No, hum, it’s just… I can’t seem to remember him. Not even his face, you know? I’ve been in his class from the beginning of the year, but I can’t recall his voice, like if he’s ever read from the textbook out loud or something…. I mean, there was someone named Sehun in this class, right? I keep thinking about it but- »
« Why does it matter? He’s dead. It’s not like you were close so I don’t see the big deal. »
It’s true, of course. He was never close with Sehun. His death didn’t do a dent in his life, but the absence of memories nags at the back of his mind, as if the boy had suddenly appeared to him in his disappearance.
« I feel bad for him, I guess. I didn’t mean to forget him. »
The other student scoffs, walking the two or three steps that separate them. Kyungsoo winces as the boy stands right before him, his dark hair falling over his eyes, lips reduced to a thin line, fists clenched white. Kyungsoo can finally get a closer look at him. He looks exhausted, but there’s a profoundness to it that seems to impregnate his whole body, digging at his cheeks and clinging at his dark skin. It’s as if just standing there wears him down.
« That’s just hypocritical bullshit. Why care for someone you never bothered acknowledging before? What’s the fucking point in that? »
Kyungsoo feels shaken, not having expected this reaction. He can’t seem to predict the other boy’s actions, can’t even begin to understand what he’s thinking, and it scares him. He wants to apologize, take back his words, but the boy doesn’t let him.
« Before worrying about dead people, you should consider your own life a little. Who cares who Oh Sehun was and what he did? He killed himself because he didn’t even know that himself. What’s truly important is your connection to yourself. So, are you connected to yourself? Why are you here? Who are you? »
« I’m… Do Kyungsoo… » He’s confused. What does that even mean? That guy’s crazy Kyungsoo thinks, or he needs a month’s worth of sleep.
« Yeah, sure, I mean, my name’s Jongin, but that’s not relevant at all. Who are you really? If you don’t find that connection to yourself, sooner or later, you’re gonna end up like him » Like Sehun, Kyungsoo echoes in his head. « It’s far too late to establish a connection in his place, and looking for him won’t fill the void in your existence. Then, there is only one way out. »
The boy, Jongin, turns on his heels and makes his way back to the open door of the classroom. He entered it quietly like a breeze but leaves it in a storm, thunder still pounding in the confines of Kyungsoo’s chest.
-
He lies in bed that night with fragments of the strange student’s speech whirling in his head. Jongin, he’d said his name was Jongin, despite it not exactly being an introduction.
Kyungsoo turns and squirms under his blanket in a vain attempt at finding sleep, but a persistant string of energy continuously runs through his limbs, just enough to keep him awake. He turns on his side, eyes wide open staring at the black emptiness of his room. Every time he closes his eyes, Jongin’s dark pupils appear behind his eyelids amidst the phosphenes, and the city outside is silent, the echo of the boy’s words loud and clear in his head until it hurts.
He thinks about Sehun then, tries to focus on something tangible, a laugh, a hair color, a detail missing, but he draws a blank. He can only recall the faint swaying of legs suspended midair, and the harsh light of the neons he shouldn’t have switched on just yesterday, a yesterday that might be decades away now, since his encounter with Jongin feels like it lasted years. Or seconds, maybe, or not at all. It might be impossible to sort out, as he tries to grasp the meaning behind Jongin’s sudden appearance earlier, and why he’d unexpectedly lashed out at him, a complete stranger. He’d seemed so serious, like he was giving him a warning. The way he had spoken about Sehun somehow let believe he knew more than he’d let Kyungsoo know. Jongin had almost made a point of implying, hinting at what he’d wanted to say, leaving Kyungsoo with enigmas and makeshift scenarios multiplying and multiplying in his head, fuelling his insomnia late into the night.
-
People say that the more you look for something, the less likely are your chances to find it. It’s like a force of nature. This, of course, means that Kyungsoo doesn’t catch a glimpse of Jongin for exactly eight days. It’s not that he’s been counting, but the days succeed to each other mechanically, as if they simply check themselves off the calendar, and Kyungsoo can only add them up. Another disappearance that screams loudly at him in its evidence, taunting him.
One afternoon, Kyungsoo attempts to catch Jongin by staying late after class, when the other boy is supposed to bring a change of colors to Sehun’s memorial bouquet. He ends up falling asleep at his desk, waking up with a start, and the shaky hand softly ruffling his hair seems like a distant dream. The lights are off and the flowers might as well have been brought back to life.
On the eight day after he’d met Jongin, Kyungsoo thinks about giving up, and even though he remembers the boy so distinctly, he thinks their encounter might have been a really lucid dream, a symptom caused by shock, trauma, a psychologic reaction to cope with Sehun’s death. He’d spent the week expecting the other boy to appear, but nothing.
It’s too hard on him, he’s tired of struggling with his thoughts and the lack of sleep and the throbbing headache digging into his skull like something bigger than himself is growing in his head, eating at his insides.
It’s extremely tacky, Kyungsoo thinks, or someone is playing a cruel trick on him. He could’ve spotted Jongin in the hallway or bumped shoulders in the cafeteria, but instead he finds the boy curled up in a bathroom stall, like it’s all part of some melodramatic teenager flick. It kind of feels like the end of the episode, when the supporting character reveals an abused past and wallows in self pity. Of course Kyungsoo’s life is nothing out of an afternoon drama, but as he follows the chocked coughs and looks down at Jongin sprawled on the floor with his hair drenched, shades of blues and purples blossoming at the corner of his mouth and across the bridge of his nose, Kyungsoo waits for the ending credits to take off.
To be continued.
Jongin straightens up into a sitting position, hissing as he knocks his head on the toilet paper dispenser. Kyungsoo just stares, because what else can he do? Jongin looks up at him behind his dark fringe sticking to his forehead, expression unreadable. He’s exactly how Kyungsoo remembered him, and much more.
His eyes are holes, and Kyungsoo gets sucked in. Jongin coughs blood, Jongin coughs words. It somehow feels the same.
« Have you found a connection to yourself? » His voice is just a little over a whisper, low and trembling. There’s a hint of hope in his tone, the sting of his words from the other day completely gone, but his mind still seems miles away. Maybe he’s not talking to Kyungsoo; maybe the words are directed to himself, and he wants Kyungsoo to answer in his place, like he’s asking him to take the decisions.
It’s been over a week and he still doesn’t understand what Jongin means by connection. He can’t bring himself to ask, scared he’d somehow disappoint him. He feels obliged to that boy with dishevelled hair and bloodied lips, that boy with skin the color of milk tea dripping and contrasting with the glistening white tiles of the school’s bathroom floor.
He doesn’t ask what happened, doesn’t ask if he’s okay. He doesn’t know Jongin yet but he can tell it’s not what the boy wants to hear. Consider your own life a little, he’d said. He sits besides Jongin, not caring about the water wetting his pants, resting his chin on his knees.
Jongin stiffens at that, and Kyungsoo can only glance at him from the corner of his eye, trying desperately to keep his breathing steady.
« What I said the other day, I meant it, you know. It’s time you start asking yourself the right questions. I don’t want you to end up like Sehun. » It sounds like worry. His eyebrow are drawn together stubbornly and he bites his lip where blood has smeared from a small cut.
« You don’t have much time to begin with. Sehun ran out of his prematurely, or he found out that no matter the amount of time given, he could never find his connection. The Suicide Circle caught him. »
Nothing makes much sense to Kyungsoo, but if he’s got one thing figured out, it’s that Jongin really is talking to himself. It’s a pity, Kyungsoo realizes, that he doesn’t have any answer to give, that he can’t take any decisions.
-
It’s still a grey morning, but Kyungsoo’s parents are away. He’d turned the television on just to drown the silence in the house but what he sees makes him want to turn it off instantly.
Yet, he doesn’t.
… awaiting explanations on this horrible incident. This morning around 6 AM at Euljiro Sam Ga station a group of teenage girls jumped in front of an incoming train. The whole line 2 in direction of Ehwa University is now paralyzed for several days in favor of what’s been announced a very long and laborious police investigation. The authorities have yet to identify all the victims but the casualties have escalated to the impressing count of 37 bodies. This is unprecedented.
The tragedy plagues us greatly, and we send our most sincere support to the families affected. Let us join our field journalist along with officer Park, the representative in charge of this horrible case.
- Yes, thank you…
Kyungsoo is barely listening now, his thoughts burying every sound around him. His vision is wavering slightly and the walls are closing in on him dangerously.
… seen this term mentioned frequently on social networks and forums lately, the ‘’Suicide Club’’ or ‘’Suicide Circle’’ has even been trending on Naver this week. The authorities think this group, that we’ve yet to discover the purpose of, might be responsible for the massive number of suicide cases that have been occurring all around the city for the past two months. Further investigations are currently in process…
Of course the first thing that comes to mind is Jongin. In that moment, he is so panicked, so absolutely terrified by the truth unveiling itself, but it only sparks new questions, new uncertainties.
He doesn’t know what to make of Jongin now, of what his words hide, of what his eyes imply. It has all become too big for him to handle alone.
He still doesn’t know what the ‘’Suicide Circle’’ is, that among everything Jongin had said to him. He doesn’t know what it is, so why are they talking about it on national television? Hearing Jongin’s words out of someone else’s mouth is terrifying. It makes them real.
-
During the following days, the body count on the train tracks goes up and finally stops at 54. Five of these girls attended Kyungsoo’s school, one of them was from the class next to his.
In hopes of drawing a conclusion, teachers give speeches and more flowers are placed on desks to make people forget more than to help them remember, leaving Kyungsoo in the middle of it all wondering where the smiles and the laughter come from.
Nobody seems to be sharing the headaches and heavy nausea he wakes up to every morning, following him on his way to school and fading at the end of the day when faces start to blur and walls begin to spin uncontrollably. The air is humid and sticks to his skin, but the cold wind has shivers running down his spine.
The indifferent smiles make him sick, and one afternoon he runs out of class and throws up what he has left of bile in the bathroom, splashing water to his face and hoping he’ll wake up or something along those lines. He grips the edge of the sink and gasps at his reflexion in the dirty mirror. For the first time, he notices how pale is skin is, almost grey. His large eyes are rimmed by dark circles and his short hair is tousled, unkempt.
He adverts his eyes almost instantly. More than being scared, Kyungsoo is lost. It’s unsettling when you’re not sure if it’s yourself you can’t recognize, or everyone else. Jongin had spoken to him about connection, yet he has never felt so disconnected in his entire life.
-
On a Thursday morning, approximately one week after what the media had baptized ‘’The Train Incident’’ (the word incident is greatly misused, but it brings peace of mind to confused ears, gives a false sense of finality to a case far too illogical and complex for Mr. Everybody’s already limited capacity to think, to care), the direction summons the entire student body in the gymnasium for a briefing on the latest events.
Kyungsoo wonders why he still bothers coming to school. His head is so full that he just stops thinking, at times, and classes pass in a daze, the content of the lesson totally forgotten by the time the bell rings. It’s days and days without seeing Jongin, again, since their encounter in the bathroom. This time, he fights the urge to look for him, knowing the mere sight of the other boy might send his thoughts astray again. He doesn’t need any more unanswered questions.
It’s ironic, really, that tan skin and pitch-black hair appear to him like a vision among the rows of standing students, but he forces himself to look away.
He understands why Jongin had been so out of his reach, and he feels stupid. He’s immobile, standing in the rows near the front, with the other first years. First years who have most of their classes in the next building, somewhere Kyungsoo never sets foot in since he went up a grade. It makes sense, but then not. He thinks of the dried up flowers, of random lottery, all empty words. He wonders if Jongin still goes up all the way to his class to change the flowers. He hasn’t noticed if they’re fresh or dead for a while now; he doesn’t pay attention to anything much.
Jongin is one year younger than him, he realizes, and it’s somewhat disturbing to know that he’s older than a boy who seems to know too much about life, and already seems like he’s lost himself in it.
« … have been informed that the police has confirmed the connection between the recent internet sensation, the Suicide Club, and the terrible incidents that have plagued our city and, furthermore, our dear school, for the past months. The Suicide Club has been mentioned on numerous forum pages and social networking sites. Preventive measures coming from the head of the police department include a minimized dissemination of any information on the subject as to contain the trend and prevent other incidents, as well as an immediate report to the direction or the police if an individual gets access to this information. As respectable and responsible members of this society, I would like all of you to cooperate. The school has its student’s safety in priority… »
Kyungsoo’s only half listening at this point.
To hold such a speech is pointless, honestly. In this very moment, people are dying all around the city, from the summits of the highest skyscrapers to the deepest corners of Seoul. It’s certainly why this case seems so intricate; there is no pattern, no clue. There is no distinction between salary men and teenagers, housewives or policemen. One day it’s a renowned chaebol or a popular idol, and the next it’s the old woman from the convenience store down the street.
There is no trail to follow because there is no culprit.
As he exits the gymnasium in the mindless swarm of tired students, Kyungsoo makes what is probably one of the easiest decisions of his life, which is to not turn Jongin in to the direction. He’s sure the boy is more or less involved in whatever the Suicide Circle might be, but Kyungsoo needs explanations, he needs so badly to understand so he can sleep, so he can finally breathe again.
He wants to talk to Jongin, now, he’s certain of it.
-
Days run at an alarmingly fast pace, blurring out the red with the grey sky and the water Kyungsoo splashes to his face to keep himself anchored, even if he doesn’t know what to. He tries to ignore the suicides that pile up endlessly, but it’s too late. Maybe the trick would’ve worked at the beginning, but the situation is far too out of control. The rumors and speculations spread like a virus and fear slowly starts to ooze from the streets, bordering on panic.
To some, it’s not even fear but excitement, deaths treated like bets and games, passed around like gossip around dinner or with a coworker over a cup of coffee. It’s fun when you’re convinced it can only happen to other people, but then there’s that petty dumbstruck expression when the husband hangs himself or the accountant next door swallows a whole bottle of medication.
There’s no stopping it, but still, life goes on, at least for the ones who are left behind, and Kyungsoo wonders if Jongin is one of them, or if he’s just getting ready to leave. He hopes it’s the former, because despite barely knowing him, he thinks he wants to try and fix Jongin with the ounce of sanity he has left, and something close to sympathy. He assumes that’s what it is, this weight in his heart that draws him to Jongin so strongly he thinks he gets into a trance sometimes, pulled in without being aware of it, coming to his senses only when their eyes meet and Jongin looks away, vanishing in the crowd. In those moments, he can only exhale the oxygen he’d been holding in and blink a few times to hopefully erase Jongin’s expression, a shadow sticking to his vision as if he’d been looking at the sun for too long.
-
He pushes open the door of the bathroom, stepping into the empty corridor. Indiscernible murmurs are muffled into the walls, teachers and students engrossed in lessons, and a faint scent of flowers permeates the air. His footsteps resonate loudly in his ears, and he focuses on the sound until he hears a clear voice down the hall.
« Say something! »
And another one.
« Yeah Jongin, he asked you a question! »
His steps resonate more and more loudly, until he starts to hear other steps, distant, heavier. He stops at the staircase entrance, frozen. The picture in front of him is off, surreal in its normality. There are five boys climbing up the stairs, boys Kyungsoo has never seen. In the middle, Jongin stands out inevitably. He has a new bruise on his jaw, Kyungsoo notices. They all talk expressively and laugh and shout like they don’t care someone could catch them skipping class, except Jongin and it’s strange that he’s never seen Jongin with anyone before. It doesn’t feel normal. They pass him without even a look his way, going up to the third floor, but when he looks up the stairwell is empty and the bang of a door closing above echoes all around him.
The rooftop?
He doesn’t- He just doesn’t get it.
It’s weird, really, that he’s never seen Jongin with anyone before. Yet it felt more natural than what he’s just witnessed. It makes him nervous and uneasy.
He goes up the first step, then the second, and suddenly he’s climbing them two by two with an urgency in his breath and a heavy heartbeat to match his steps. He reaches the door and doesn’t even hesitate to push it open. It’s surprisingly light and he stumbles forward on dark concrete. The sun is high, a cold and fuzzy halo cutting through the clouds, and he lifts a hand to shield his eyes. A shiver crawls up his spine as the wind bites his skin and eyes slowly turn to him.
He looks towards the horizon; it’s way higher than he’d imagined and although it’s like he’s on top of the world, he still feels small and helpless.
« Hey! What are you doing here? »
« Fuck, is he going to snitch? »
« Wait, aren’t you that second year who’s always alone and goes out to puke during all his classes? »
They all laugh except Jongin who turns to him, finally, eyes widening and brows furrowing in confusion. Kyungsoo feels dizzy and the sharp laughter makes his ears sting. He averts his eyes from Jongin’s unnerving stare and looks up to a tall boy that stands right before him. He’s really intimidating, Kyungsoo thinks. All over the place. What the hell is Jongin doing with a guy like him? All his features seem too big and disproportionate; big ears, huge eyes, wide grin. Too much teeth. Too much hair. Not enough personal space.
« Does he want to join us? » A voice asks somewhere behind.
« Do you want to join us? » It’s too much again. Too deep and too loud.
Whatever they’re talking about, Kyungsoo doesn’t want to join them. He only wanted to check on Jongin. He shakes his head, eyes wide. The giant shrugs and runs to the edge of the building.
« Let’s go guys, come on! We don’t have all day! »
« Alright, calm down. » A boy with auburn hair and a face somewhat similar to Jongin’s but with brighter eyes and a kind smile tugs Jongin by the arm. « Let’s go. » Another one, short with a round face and weird arched eyebrows sighs heavily and they all walk to join the tall guy still eagerly gesticulating and shouting at them to hurry up.
Jongin looks behind his shoulder towards Kyungsoo, but fuck, he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know what Jongin wants from him, he’s never known. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, why’re they’re suddenly standing on the edge, holding hands.
The boy with auburn hair stands to the left with Jongin, a tight grip on his wrist keeping him in place.
Kyungsoo can’t move, can’t even blink as he watches the incongruous scene unfold under the grey sky, clouds accumulating overhead.
« Let’s do it for the Suicide Club! » The words don’t register in Kyungsoo’s head; it’s as if he’s watching a comedy show after school and the host just blurted out a misplaced joke. Nothing is real, nothing makes sense.
« On the count of three! Okay Jongin? » The boy with auburn hair nudges at Jongin with his elbow. In any other circumstances it would have been warm and friendly, but it’s not.
« Everyone ready? One, two, th- »
« Wait! Wait, wait wait. » It’s weird-arched-eyebrows boy who interrupts the countdown, sounding frantic. « Are you guys serious? You really gonna do it? » Everyone sighs in annoyance.
« Of course idiot! » The giant smacks him across the head. « Fuck, Minseok, get it together, you in or not? Okay, let’s start over. »
It’s a really breathtaking picture, the sun piercing through the heavy clouds, the smiles, the interlaced fingers, the wind playing with white shirts and through strands of hair. It’s distant, like he’s not really part of this. He might just be a stranger intruding on their moment, peeking from a crack on the wall.
« One, »
The wind cuts Kyungsoo’s bare arms. It’s not even winter yet, but the air is dry and freezing. He wishes he had at least worn his long sleeved uniform shirt.
« Two, »
He doesn’t notice he’d started walking until he’s close enough to grab Jongin’s shoulder. The boy looks back at him, mouthing words but no sound reach Kyungsoo’s ears. The wind is too strong and it makes his head pound and his eyes water.
« What? »
Jongin’s face is oddly transparent. Something like a smirk shapes his lips, but it isn’t exactly, since his eyes always look elsewhere, way beyond the horizon. Kyungsoo looks to the side, where things are drawing their conclusion.
« Three. »
A dull, unfamiliar sound, like an impact, or a collision, and the silence returns. His fingers are still gripping Jongin’s shoulder so he lets go quickly. Jongin is looking down to the ground, eyes widening, leaning a little too much over the edge and he staggers dangerously, stepping back on the cold asphalt of the rooftop.
His legs give out but he doesn’t feel the ground scrapping his skin. Jongin sits down as well, both of them trembling horribly.
Minutes pass, only minutes although it feels like hours. The bell rings but it’s muted and goes unnoticed. Kyungsoo looks at Jongin still out of breath, his hair a mess just as the roof door slams open again, the teacher’s screams blurred out in his head. He’s drowning, probably, because Jongin’s face is distorted, like when you’re underwater and you look up to the surface. The sounds don’t reach him at all, not even his heartbeat, people are tugging at his arms and wrists and touch his face but he’s numb, he’s reaching the seabed slowly because the lights are fading, giving way to darkness.
-
It's blurry at first, blotches of grey with light mixed in, spots dancing before his eyes and assaulting his retinas. He slowly gets a hold of his senses again and the grey turns to a ceiling, the spots to harsh neons above him. There's a buzzing sound resounding from everywhere at the same time, and when he listens close enough, he can discern a quiet and even breathing to his right.
Kyungsoo isn't sure where he's supposed to be, until he finally moves an inch, stirs a muscle of his neck and feels cotton under his fingers. Probably the infirmary. He shifts his head in direction of the breathing and is met with the back of a boy seated at the edge of the bed.
He knows it’s Jongin just by the strain in his shoulders and the overall weariness to his figure, he knows it’s him even before the boy turns to him and if Kyungsoo had expected anything, he would’ve been disappointed by the impassive expression Jongin offers him once more, even after all this. He isn’t disappointed, but maybe just slightly put off, irritated. He sits up and straightens his back, hoping it’ll give him assurance.
« Why did you come to the roof, Kyungsoo? » Again, his voice is monotone, but there’s something else to it. Like he’s scared. It brings him back to that day in the classroom, with flowers between them, when the shadows were still concealable and the scent of flowers was still fresh rather than pungent, overwhelming. Again, Jongin’s eyes hold him prisoner.
It’s another question for which no answer is expected, but Kyungsoo still answers, like he can’t help himself.
« You never stroke me as the type to make friends. » It comes out sounding like a joke, but he didn’t mean to. Jongin snorts flatly, unamused.
« What does it matter to you? »
What does it matter to me?
The words scream at him like an accusation. It’s not like he’d never thought about it, but it had never felt as important as it feels right then.
« I- I don’t know. Yet. But I want to. I think you need help, but so do I. I think we both do. I feel something, when I speak with you, like it makes it better even though it makes it worse. I’m scared, you know? I’m fucking terrified of what just happened, of them, of you. » It’s more than that, he knows. He’s scared of the absence of Jongin. He’s scared of him becoming them. « Everyone is leaving. But I need someone to stay with me, I need someone to not leave for once. »
« Kyungsoo. » He speaks without opening his mouth, almost. « Calm down. » He leans in and Kyungsoo feels dizzy again.
Silence settles around them, stretching time for a moment that seems never ending, while in reality it’s probably only a minute before Jongin speaks again.
« I don’t- I don’t know what to do either. I don’t understand what I’m doing here, I never did. Everyone around me is leaving, too. What is there left for me? I don’t think I can live solely for myself. I don’t think I can make it then. »
When he looks up into Kyungsoo’s eyes, they’re one step closer. One inch, one foot, one mile. He can’t measure, but they’re closer. He still doesn’t understand much, not the suicides, not the dread that’s been weighing him down for weeks, but he understands Jongin a little better, and that’s enough.
He can work with that. He has to start somewhere, right?
The door clicks and opens, a teacher barging in unceremoniously, startling the two boys. « I see mister Do is awake. Some public officers would like to speak with you two. Follow me, please. » Kyungsoo still feels weak, only halfway back into his own body, but there isn’t really much of a choice. The teacher’s eyes are wide with impatience as they both nod, following him out the door and into the empty corridor.
They are taken to a vacant classroom at the end of the hallway. The desks have been pushed together against the walls, and by the window stand two officers, talking animatedly. It’s already nearing late afternoon; the sun is setting behind them, casting heavy shadows over their faces. It must be around 6pm, Kyungsoo guesses. He was unconscious for a long time.
The teacher leaves, closing the door behind himself. He glances towards Jongin and notices the shortened distance between them.
One of the two men, the one who appears to be of a certain age with a severe frown behind small glasses, turns to Kyungsoo.
« I would like you to undress, please. » The man clears his throat before explaining himself. « We are looking for apparent forms of self-harm scars. Since you were involved in today’s incident, you are primary suspects. Your cooperation is important for the progress of this investigation, so please listen to orders and we’ll be finished in ten minutes. »
Kyungsoo steps up on unsteady legs, not knowing where to look as he removes his shirt, then his pants. It all seems extremely unprofessional, to be doing this there, at school, just like that. Shouldn’t there be a protocol for these kind of things? The other officer, a young man griping his jacket across his chest, releases one of his sleeves and motions for Kyungsoo to turn around.
He holds his breath even though he doesn’t have anything to hide, and he turns to face Jongin who’d been standing behind him, leaning against the wall. Their eyes lock and the distance decreases slightly once more. Jongin’s gaze pierces through him and it sends a shiver tearing down his body.
The officers allow Kyungsoo to put his uniform back on and call for Jongin, who steps up without a word and removes his clothes calmly. Jongin’s skin marbled with patches of setting sun is nearly flawless, if not for the horrific scar on his waist, a large rectangular piece of skin missing, gaping red and smooth like a cicatrized burn but too definite, almost calculated. The cops, alarmed, inspect it thoroughly, even if Jongin brushes it off as some result of a childhood accident. They seem unsettled but there are no other scars, no cuts on his wrists or his thighs, no cigarette burns, so they give in, and Jongin covers himself again. The scar disappears behind the white fabric of his shirt, yet the red remains like a stain in Kyungsoo’s mind. He can still see it on Jongin, through his uniform shirt, he can almost smell the blood soaking Jongin’s clothes.
-
There are some questions asked, but it feels dragged, somewhat half-assed despite the urgency of the case, or so Kyungsoo thinks. Jongin stays like a wall, eyes downcast and lips sealed. Kyungsoo would rather be somewhere else, but when he tries to figure out where he’d want to go, he draws a blank.
They’re excused for the rest of the evening to recover from any possible trauma. It’s laughable, really. Kyungsoo doesn’t feel different from the day or even the week before, but he goes along with their assumption. What will staying here accomplish, at this point? In the corridor, through the windows, he looks at the students quietly sitting at their desks, studying subjects they don’t understand, memorizing textbooks to fill their brains, totally unaware that those same classrooms, those same desks are emptying themselves more and more every day, forgetting the face of their friends, maybe even forgetting their own. It’s impressive, in a way, how the school handled the situation so smoothly, how they managed to erase the death of those teenagers before anybody could notice. Preventive measures coming from the head of the police department include a minimized dissemination of any information on the subject as to contain the trend and prevent other incidents. Of course, Kyungsoo thinks. How harmful for the school’s reputation would this be, if the information were to spread?
It smells too much like flowers, it’s sickening. Every day the smell gets stronger, and Kyungsoo thinks that soon he won’t be able to bear it.
When he sets foot outside, the sun is still setting, as if the time had stopped the moment he’d woken up beside Jongin in the infirmary. His phone indicates 6:23pm.
« I lied. »
Jongin’s voice feels too close, but when Kyungsoo turns around Jongin is standing a few feet back, the wind blowing his hair in his face. The sound of the boy’s voice echoes in his head as if he’d imagined it, but there’s a tension there, the kind that settles heavily before a revelation; not an elephant in the room per say, but apprehension.
« It wasn’t random lottery. » It takes the time of a short pause for Kyungsoo to make sense of the words.
« Then what- »
« Sehun, he was my best friend. We’ve always had a similar view of the world, but I think he understood something I couldn’t. He figured out what he had to do but I still can’t. He didn’t leave me any hints, nothing. I thought we understood each other, but I still don’t get it, and it’s tiring. I’m so fucking tired. »
Somehow, he’s not really surprised, but he accepts the new piece of information as a step ahead. Maybe not in the right direction, but it’s still a step. It’s better than stagnating in the darkness. He thinks about how, at first, he used Jongin to understand what had happened to Sehun, but now he only hopes every mention of his classmate can help him figure out Jongin a bit more.
« What was that scar, Jongin? How did you get something like that? »
The wind is as strong as it was up on the rooftop earlier that day, and if Jongin had said anything, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. Jongin’s lips stretch into a poor imitation of a smile, except it isn’t one because it doesn’t reach further than that, his eyes are obscure and his skin, even under the sunset, stays dull. The expression doesn’t quite suit him but Kyungsoo hopes it will, one day.
-
That night, instead of distant pop music and the muffled blend of drunken conversations and busy sounds of the city, there’s a constant roaring coming from outside, like cars on the highway speeding past right outside the window. The light penetrating the room hits the walls the same way it does in his bedroom, the moon, the street lights, the exact same neon signs from the cafes and the noraebang across the street, but he’s sitting behind his desk at school. The sun has set a long time ago, and in his head he can hear the faint chatter of students leaving one after the other.
Looking up at the ceiling, he sees his classmate, a rope around the neck. It seems as though he is levitating. Is that Sehun? he thinks, yet he can’t remember who Sehun is. The body is spinning, but every time it’s about to face him, its back appears again and again. Peeking from the collar at the bottom of its nape, a rectangular scar like skin cut sharply with a knife glistens, as if it has just been made.
It looks painful.
Kyungsoo
Looking down, he sees flowers placed on each desk, on the window sills, even a few on the floor. The smell makes him want to vomit.
A boy with tanned skin and dark hair stands by the door.
The Suicide Club doesn’t exist. The Suicide Club doesn’t exist.
Another name comes to mind, a name he can't recognize.
Kyungsoo opens his eyes, but is met by darkness. There's a roaring sound coming from outside, like cars on the highway far in the distance. His clock flashes white blinding digits at his face.
6:23pm. When did he fall asleep?
He hasn’t gone to school for three days now, since the rooftop incident. His parents hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t even looked at him.
He'll go to school tomorrow, he decides.
part ii