♔KING OF THE HILL: CHAPTER TWO
inside: angst of the blatantly obvious kind, evil and the alcohol of power. the rules for this game are here. best you read them if you haven't already, because the fic is centred around them.
ONE
마치 빗물처럼 지워질 운명이겠지만.
It might be a fate that will wash away like the rain...
Rain. That voice.
Donghae freezes in his tracks as he hears that voice, as unobtrusive as a breeze through the clouds yet as gut-wrenching as a punch in the stomach.
Rain. That voice. Yesung’s voice.
He remembers the beginning of the game, when he was gripping tightly onto Eunhyuk’s long fingers, which were warm when they usually were cold and a brief reprieve from the daily drama. He remembers Siwon’s scream, and Heechul’s pleading for Siwon to come back, that it would be okay -
That it would be okay.
That it will be okay.
And now one more.
The voices of the two dead men taunt him in his head and he falls into the sand clutching his temples, wanting them to stop. They pound at the walls of his skull, bouncing back off and hitting them again, yanking his eyes back into his head and twisting his insides into knots that he didn’t know are even possible to tie. They send shivers down his skin and he can’t get the memories to stop.
Stop, stop.
But they don’t.
They didn’t have time to cry. He didn’t have time to cry for them. He’s too busy being ripped apart by voices that are creations of his mind, voices that don’t exist at all. And he hasn’t told anyone, but it’s his biggest fear, being left alone. They’re doing that to him now. They’re chipping off pieces of him, fragments of porcelain, by porcelain. Any moment now, and he could topple from his pedestal and shatter...if he isn’t already cracked through from the inside.
***
Salutations, Joker.
Heechul almost jumps at the sound; a voice in his head from a source that he doesn’t know can make even him slightly nervous. He has to hide the fear, though - he has been doing for all these years and it’s the only way people don’t notice how scared he is. The confident, glorious persona he created is nothing more than a curtain shielding a room from the blaring sunlight.
Joker - funny name, is it not? Of course it is, as it has its roots in ‘joke’. But you do realize that your role in this Game is far from that, no?
It’s unnerving for Heechul, having someone - no, something - dictate his actions when he’s been leading himself on his own string all his life. It makes him feel powerless, and like the rope of control has slipped out of his hands into murky, choppy waters and there’s no way to recover it but by diving in and trying not to drown.
Kill them. Now is your chance, with the death of a life that once was a friend. Kill them indirectly, as it is what you were appointed to do.
The game is pointless, and Heechul knows that. He will win anyway, as the Joker was meant to do. And given the charm and the power he knows he can exert over other members, he will prevail. He will walk out alive, into a world where normality is more than a distant gift that is wished for but never granted.
Over and out... Master. And Heechul can now feel the emptiness now that is the insides of his skull, relieved somewhat that the Voice is gone.
He ponders over the roles that the Voice tells him have been assigned; Yesung the King, but Eliminated by Eunhyuk, who now reigns. Ryeowook the Queen - he was always rather effeminate, although not as glamorous as Heechul. Heechul can’t help but stifle a laugh as he envisages Ryeowook as a seductress, attacking a target with a heart as cold as a headstone inscribed with its name. The rest are Pawns - to keep them is no gain and to lose them is a mere wisp of a candle blown out. And finally, Sungmin as the Ace. It’s funny how vividly Heechul can imagine Sungmin - who was never one for puzzles - blindly trying to decipher the codes of the Game that will lead him to whom he must form alliances with.
Sungmin’s efforts will be futile, however, as Heechul himself will be the true King of the Hill. The best part is, that nobody will know until it comes down to the final two, and he is directly Crowned.
***
Walking. It’s always been something natural, something that doesn’t need any effort at all to execute, but for Donghae however, it’s become his latest torture. Each step feels foreign, as if it doesn’t belong, as if he doesn’t belong. The land is bleak, washed out in shades of grey. There is no black, no white. Everything trickles into everything else like water spilled onto a canvas, the good and evil blending into one unintelligible mass that is impossible to separate.
He doesn’t know and care how long he’s been walking, and that his feet feel ready to give into the sand. It’s only when the air gets slightly thicker and the sky tinges purple with the onset of nightfall that he stops and just cannot walk any further.
It’s only then that Donghae sees him. It.
At first it’s nothing more than a shape in the sand, a heap gathered from the winds that swirl the ground into intricate patterns. It’s almost like it’s hidden by some sort of foreboding haze.
And then the Voice inside his head decides to emerge out of the depths it was hiding within, lulling him, calling him closer to the object by some psychopathic compulsion that feels as familiar as plastic on Donghae’s skin. It sings to him now, squeezing out of his being the last drops of energy he can manage to salvage towards the thing in the sand. Then he’s there, the Voice moving his limbs like a marionette and running his fingers over the cold skin of the seemingly sleeping figure whose face he knows he best not look at.
It’s the cold skin that pushes the Voice away and slams Donghae back into the stark reality of the Game. It’s the realization that sleeping figures breathe, and this figure does not. Most importantly, and most unbelievably, it’s the watery feel of blood where a heart once used to beat, and the smooth metal of a fallen bullet coated in the same.
Or maybe it’s the realization that the figure’s voice will never laugh again. Never speak or sing again. The figure is nothing more than an empty shell now.
But Donghae refuses to believe it yet another time. It’s as sudden and unreal as a dream, the snippets of which slip from his fingers in the first waking moments of every day. The colours are too bright now, the silence too loud, the blood too thin and too unnatural. For Donghae, all of this simply cannot be.
***
“Greetings, players. A game without interactions is rather boring; move, act, engage your enemies! Area C should hold a rather pleasant surprise.”
It’s startling how loud the Voice seems to be, as if blasted from speakers, but how invisible and unobtrusive it is when it’s gone. One minute Ryeowook’s clutching at his skull as it sears around the walls of it, and the next there is nothing but silence as the remnants of the instruction patter off into an empty landscape.
He has spent the last few hours disoriented, after hearing Jongwoon’s voice waft through the breeze in some sort of ominous, foreboding whisper. He’ll have to wait, till his new King is revealed - yet he feels as if he can’t move on with the ashy crumbles of Jongwoon in his mind. He knows that with his new King, there’ll be that something missing; and then there’ll be Kings after that, all of those with that tiny little spark missing as well. The King with the spark was extinguished too early, when only the match was being lit.
As a Queen however, and as a man who values his life, Ryeowook will have to.
The thoughts still linger, though, as Ryeowook trudges through the sand, wandering aimlessly for Area C. He knows that the ‘pleasant’ surprise mentioned will most probably be one of the complete opposite, and imagines metal walls closing up around him that won’t let any emotion through except for the necessary in order to survive. It’s what he’s always done, when someone or something has slithered under his skin; those walls protect him from himself and the harm he can cause.
***
Hyukjae.
That was Yesung’s last word.
Eunhyuk doesn’t like it. It brought about one last second of humanity in him, the use of his birth name and not the one he flourished on stage like a shimmering cloak. It was too late though, as Yesung lay in the sand, but that name made him want to turn back and apologize.
Not any more. You are the King, remember? King Eunhyuk... now doesn’t that sound phenomenal. King Hyukjae, on the other hand... it sounds too befitting of a peasant. Renounce your peasant side, and then you can truly Reign.
The Voice, to Eunhyuk, does not seem obtrusive any more. He welcomes it, like a visit from an old friend, as he knows that whatever it tells him is only for his benefit. And as King, one must do things for nothing but benefit. The Voice is right - he has to let go of his personal side. Ironic, as he was one of the most emotional in the group, but as King it must be done.
King.
He quietly tastes the single syllable on his tongue, and it is sweet. Then slightly louder, yet nothing more than a fiery whisper. Then louder again, and soon he’s shouting it to the skies, adrenaline pounding through him fueling him into some sort of powerful dance of danger. He did it. He can do it. As long as he survives, it’s all his. The flashing lights, the carefree abundance of wealth... the freedom.
The echo reverberates throughout his being, settling in his core like a precious stone. The word Hyukjae now seems like a discarded shell, left crumpled in the sand.
Sungmin and Kibum are waiting; he met them not far from the shooting site after Yesung’s Elimination. He suppresses a sneer as he walks back to the place that they said they’d meet at after Eunhyuk excused himself with a hasty ‘I need to go’. His companions don’t know what happened; all they heard was Yesung’s voice and that is all they will know about the incident.
“Hyukjae?” Kibum’s voice, Eunhyuk can hear it, but the word sounds unfamiliar. Kibum’s voice continues to ring with the same word, and then Eunhyuk is brought to his senses by another call, from Sungmin this time, “Eunhyuk? Where are you? Are you alright?” This time the word brings some reaction to him, and he jogs through the sand to meet them both.
It’s time for Area C now, and the three of them will go there together; two other backup lives are perfect in order to prevent Eunhyuk from losing his.
He is not Hyukjae any more. He is King, and he will keep it that way.
***
“They’re breaking.” Leeteuk’s voice is little more than a murmur, somewhere between a sob and an accusation. “They’re breaking, and I can’t stop it.”