Tell Me You Love Me; Chapter 12

[wishunew]

Title: Tell Me You Love Me
Rating: R
WARNING: Some Serious shit happens in this chapter! like... Seriously!
Pairing/Focus: Onew, Jongho, taekey
Summary: In the movies, when a singer lost their voice, all you had to do was break the shell and they got it back, and everyone lived happily ever after, lesson learned. But movies aren't real, and when a voice leaves, sometimes it doesn't want to come back, and some lessons leave marks that even happy endings can't erase. . . .



credit to my beta, manaphasm

So, OMG. its finally HERE. the last chapter. well, plus the epilogue, lol. keep forgetting about that one. But anyway! the moment you've all been waiting for!

I dont really know what to say, but this is also a really long chapter lol. another 10k bugger. and between the last chapter, this one and the epilogue i seem to have somehow injured myself? my writing hands all swollen like. super annoying, but not that painful.

Also, there's a secret in the story that makes something really sad, sadder. Hope you figure it out =D

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He felt bad when he saw it on the news. Some poor soul dies in a fire when he lost control of his car, and crashed into the gas station; mistaken identity because there wasn't enough of the man left to be identified properly. It was a bit of a relief, to know that the police thought he was dead, and he left himself relax for the first time since he skipped bail. He should have realized approaching the little one was a bad idea, getting the other four involved and forcing Jinki to call their lovemaking rape. He should have seen that coming; little boys never did like to share their toys.

And speaking of his lover, Onew must be beside himself with grief, to think him dead. Even thinking about his little lover, so pretty and heartbroken, made his whole body itch to see him. But how? Their dorm was surely watched, if not by cops then by girls who would destroy Jinki if they found out about their love. No, the dorm was out. Well, he thought, approaching him at the dorm was out. That didn't mean he couldn't observe him. Jinki was so beautifully breakable and soft, he was too tempting to be left alone. What if someone tried something dishonorable with him? Unacceptable.

So he watched, when Jinki came home, alone save for his skittish, exhausted manager, and he resisted going to say hello, because, despite being together, Jinki probably held his manager in high regard and would listen to him over his own heart, because he was a good boy who did what he was told. He watched as his love started to come and go more often, always by himself at first, as if to make it seem he was a random, unimportant man leaving the apartment building that just so happened to house SHINee, but soon it was official that Jinki had returned to the SHINee dorm with a light schedule in hopes of joining the band for their next debut. He followed the idol to the gym, watching sweat drip down his soft, supple akin; Jinki always sweat so much, as he was whipped back into shape, and the guard had to restrain himself from pouncing on the smaller boy just to lick the liquid from his body. It was too open there, and while Jinki would have undoubtedly gone with him this time, the lady trainer the idol was with scared him, and he doubted she would take kindly to him stealing Jinki away, even if the boy wanted to go.

He watched and he waited for his chance. It was a torturous experience, being so close and yet unable to touch, to hold, to love Onew, but he knew if he bided his time, soon there would be no personal trainers, no authoritative managers, and no pesky, selfish band mates to stand in the way of what was meant to be. It was then, when he was home, contemplating if he should find another place to sleep, as he had lost his job, when he heard him, his baby love, singing softly as he wandered aimlessly and innocently down the hallway. He couldn’t resist following the idol. Jinki was as adorably oblivious as ever, too focused on the song he was singing. It sounded new, something about giving your soul to someone (the guard felt a rush as he figured it was about him), and not tripping on his own feet to hear the man behind him approaching as he matched pace with the idol.

It was too tempting, after so long of seeing and never touching. He called out to the idol when Jinki passed his den. It was too much; Onew was so close, he couldn’t help himself anymore. The idol turned at the noise, his eyes wide with surprise, recognition, and the guard felt pride creep into his chest when he recognized it, sadness. His lover had missed him. He rushed to the smaller man, hugging tightly, pressing his little body as close as possible, as if he were trying to fuse them together. He felt his cock twitch and stir as he inhaled the light scent of the idol. He'd wanted to take this meeting slower, but it had been so long, they had been so far apart, with just the echoes of the memories of their first lovemaking to keep him company. Many nights had been spent yearning and many other nights had been spent disappointed, as the whores he had bought were always less than satisfactory.

He figured that's what love meant, when the sex was only truly satisfying with one person in particular, as he pressed Jinki, limp with relief that he was alive, into the hidden door, pushing it open as he rubbed his thick erection against the idol’s hip, as a promise for things to come. He wouldn’t make the younger boy wait any longer, he thought, as he walked to the bed. He knew the hormones of a young boy made holding out on sex difficult. He hoped the pretty little whore had waited for him. Probably not. He gently laid the idol onto the bed, the black silken bedding a delicious contrast to the idol’s pale, milky skin, just as he predicted, and heaved the door closed. He hoped his lovely little bitch hadn't learned any bad habits since he'd been away; he'd hate to have to teach Jinki to be quiet all over again.

~*~*~*~

Jinki had never believed in ghosts until one had walked out of his nightmares and called to him in the hall, freezing him on the spot. He should have run, should have screamed, or hit, or bit, scratched, something…but he was rendered paralyzed in his fear, his vision tunneling as his rapist walked closer to him, scooped him up into a painful, bone crushing hug. Again, he tried to move, fight back, anything, but his body just sagged under the unreality of the situation. This man was supposed to be dead.

Jinki's body was a mix of warring sensations. Hot and cold, numb and painful, his mind fought to remain functioning against the thick, inky blackness that was trying to shut him down. What should he be doing or trying to do, at least? He couldn’t remember. All Jinki was aware of was the burning cold of this man’s skin against his own, and of the searing hardness pressing against him threateningly. The dark took over when his back touched the wall, and he regained himself on a bed. Jinki tried to get his bearings. Where was he? Had he lost consciousness? How long had he been out? How did he get from a hallway to a bedroom? He looked around the room, and couldn’t fight the distressed whimper that clawed its way out of his throat. The walls were covered, floor to ceiling, with pictures of him. Onew rolled over onto his stomach, unable to take in the sight, pushing himself up on shaky arms as he fought off his impending panic attack. He needed to...get out. Yes. Get away. Where are you? he asked himself. Where's Minho? Where's Jonghyun? He looked up, and his heart went from beating a million miles a minute, to a dead stand still as his gaze fell on a shelf that protruded from the wall just behind the bed. On it, a pair of boxers, crumpled and unwashed, waited like a promise, and Jinki couldn’t fight his broken sob, or the hot tears that spilled from his eyes. The bed shifted, but the idol couldn’t make himself move as a cold hand slid up the outside of his thigh. He hung his head, tears dripping down his face like rain, all too aware of what was going to happen to him. Again.

"Don’t cry now," the man whispered, shifting to lie over the younger boy, his weight pushing Onew down onto his stomach. "I'm here. I've got you."

Jinki's body shook with sobs, inevitably settling over him as heavy as the guard, weighing down his thoughts. He couldn’t understand. What was this...this thing holding him, to think that Onew would ever find comfort in his arms? His brain happily supplied him with answers as sharp, dry lips pressed against his neck. Monster, vile and twisted, a predator who's trap Jinki had fallen into, yet again. He was stupid to think himself saved; a simple fire wouldn’t harm a being so evil. He whined as the man pressed a kiss on his ear, a cold hand slipping up his shirt to trace the slowly forming muscles underneath, and pressed up firmly, to mold Jinki's form to the contours of the guard’s body. The idol was rendered breathless once again as his ass was pushed back into the heat radiating from the man’s groin.

"Baby, I missed you," the guard cooed, licking the patch of skin just behind the squirming man’s ear, moaning softly at the taste. "Your keepsake was what kept me going; that and the memories. I would have gone insane without your presence otherwise, love. You certainly know how to drive a man crazy, you tease."

Onew shivered; Jonghyun called him a tease sometimes, when he let the lead singer kiss and cuddle with him. The younger idol was as excitable as the puppy their fans claimed him to be, and enjoyed touching Jinki as much as possible, to the point where Minho would lift the smaller boy up and carry him across the room to sit in the corner until he could behave. Jjong would say it wasn’t his fault, "Onew-hyung’s teasing me! Look at him, sitting there being all adorable and...ugh! How can you not want to hug him?" When the younger boy said it, it felt light hearted and silly, and made him feel loved, unlike now, where being called a tease made Jinki feel dirty and sick. He didn’t want this monster to use the words Jonghyun and Minho said to him, but his limbs were shaky and unresponsive, his breathing fast and irregular. He was as weak now as he had been so many months ago; trapped in the car, so close to home but so far from safety. He was flipped over by the man’s numbing hands, and came face to face with a large poster of himself on the ceiling, smiling innocently down at them. Jinki turned away, unable to look his younger self in the eye and explain what would happen to them.

"We can take our time now," the man said, moving down Onew's body to nuzzle into his lower stomach. "Nice and slow, like how a proper fuck should be. No blood or bruises this time, right baby?" When the idol didn’t answer, the guard bit down on the patch of skin just below his belly button, hard enough to hurt, to remind Onew what those teeth could do, and Onew nodded his head rapidly, sick with himself for agreeing with the monster. A hot tongue soothed the slightly painful mark, then trailed upwards, Jinki's shirt being pushed up as wetness traced where the man’s large hands used to rest, making him feel slimy and gross. His body lurched upwards when a far too confident hand brushed against his nipple, his stomach churning as the man chuckled, "I knew you wanted this, you little bitch," again following the path of his hands with his mouth and tongue.

Jinki shuddered and gasped at the shock of unwanted pleasure, which seemed to briefly cut through the thick haze of despair that had settled over his brain. What are you doing? he mentally screamed at himself. You fought harder last time! He thinks you want this! Why are you just lying there? They wouldn’t want you to just give up!

His back arched again and he couldn’t fight the soft moan that dripped from his lips like acid, even as his hand reached out to grab onto anything it could find, bringing it down as hard as he could onto the monsters head. The sound of shattered glass filled the room; he'd grabbed the vase full of flowers, as the man on top of him suddenly stiffened and sagged. Jinki struggled to get out from under the weight of the guard, pushing him to the side and squirming out, clamoring and falling off of the bed in his haste. He scrambled to his feet, heedless of the glass surrounding him, and headed towards where he hoped was the door, a handle in the wall, and pulled on it with all his strength until it gave, a little bit at a time.

"Jonghyun!" he whispered or yelled or screamed. He couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears but his vocal cords felt strained. "Minho! Help! Please!" He pulled and pulled, the gap between the door and the wall slowly getting wider, it was a heavy door. Just a few more inches and he could try and slip-

A large hand was placed beside his on the door as an even larger presence loomed behind him. With one shove, the guard flattened the idol against the door as it slammed shut. He was trapped, and the monster was angry.

"You fucking bitch," the man growled low in his throat, rage radiating off of him like heat off of the sun. "You always have to make things difficult, don’t you, you little whore? Why won’t you let me be nice to you? Do you want to be hurt, is that it? Because I will hurt you, do not doubt that." Jinki was spun around and slammed back into the door with bruising force. The guard had an unfocused, deranged look in his eyes as blood seeped down his face, and for the second time in his life, Jinki wondered if he was going to live through this.

~*~*~*~

Dancing...wasn’t Jonghyun’s forte. He was willing to admit that to anyone not a fan, but at least he could make choreographed dances look like he knew what he was doing. Minho, on the other hand, could not.

"You look like a statue," the singer cackled, imitating the taller boy. It wasn’t really his fault, Minho just wasn’t flexible...well, that wasn’t an excuse because Jonghyun wasn’t either. He spared a brief, jealous look at Key and Taemin, envying the way their bodies flowed so easily, then went back to laughing at his boyfriend. "Maybe it’s because you’re so tall? Seriously, paint yourself gray and we'd never be able to tell the difference."

Minho scowled at the smaller man, more than a bit upset about being mocked by a man who couldn’t even touch his toes. Jonghyun must have noticed the look in the rapper's eyes, because he muttered a pathetic little English 'sorry' as he let Minho back him into a corner. "You want to talk about flexible, Hyung?" the taller boy growled so only the singer could hear. "Maybe we can find out flexible you are tonight, huh?"

Jonghyun flushed pink and pressed a hand against Minho's chest, they were still in public. "I-it’s not your turn," he stuttered, but Minho's dark smirk told him he didn’t care.

"So, as adorable as that is, watching you two flirt like school children, I need to actually eat my lunch before I can throw it up all over you," Key said, hands on his hips. That, coupled with Taemin’s youthful giggle, broke the mood that had settled over the other boys. Minho looked away to hide his smirk as Jonghyun flushed red and sputtered indignantly at the diva, who ignored him. "Now, where's Jinki-hyung? I'm starving."

Jonghyun looked surprised, then frowned as he looked around the room. "He's not back yet?"

Kibum cocked his eyebrow and spread his arms out, gesturing to the significant lack of Jinki. "No, I'm hiding him and I wanted to trick you. Of course he's not back yet. Where did he go?"

"He went to the bathroom like, fifteen minutes ago," the lead singer said, walking over to their bags to double check on his phone. " He hadn't mentioned not feeling well to me, but maybe with all the stress and everything..." he trailed off, disappointed with himself for not noticing if Onew was sick or not. Jinki would have noticed if one of them were sick.

"Should we go look for him?" Taemin asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He was hungry, and he could see his lunch waiting for him, but they always ate as a band if they could help it.

Minho walked over to him and placed his hands on the youngest’s shoulders, pressing his feet back down onto the floor; Taemin’s nervous habit strained his muscles and the trainer told him to stop. "Not yet, Hyung’s been feeling a bit smothered lately. Another five minutes can’t hurt anything, right?" He looked over his shoulder at Jonghyun. The eldest’s shoulders sagged and he nodded; Minho was probably right.

They did their cool down stretches in silence, counting in their heads so that they could be done faster. Jonghyun was barely paying attention, dropping his pose to check his phone every few seconds to see if the five minutes were up. By the end, he was just pacing by the door, not even pretending anymore.

"You know, he hates it when you get like this," Minho muttered as he joined the eldest by the door. "The last time you 'rushed to save him', it turned out his boxers were caught in his zipper."

Jonghyun flushed slightly at the memory; Jinki had been so upset with him, he didn’t talk to Jjong for the rest of the day. "But this is different, Minho. Something feels wrong, and I..." he trailed off, blushing a little, "I thought i heard him, you know, calling for us. Ugh." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in his frustration. "I just hate when I can’t see him, you know, Minho?"

The rapper nodded, pulling the singer into a tight hug. "He'll be fine, you'll see. He'll be mad at you for trying to smother him again, so you should be ready for that, but he'll be okay." Minho wasn’t sure at that point if he was trying to comfort Jonghyun or convince himself. A sense of dread had settled over his stomach when they realized Jinki hadn't come back yet, and it was getting heavier by the moment. "I think we've waited long enough. Let’s go get scolded."

Key had his arm looped with Taemin’s as they walked down the hall in a group. Jonghyun and Minho were too wrapped up in their angst to pay any attention to him or Taemin, so they didn’t notice when the youngest boys had gone from nervous bouncing to worried fidgeting, and while yes, Kibum was also worried about their lovable, vulnerable leader, (he was walking down the hall with them when only one person really needed to go), he was also quite concerned with Taemin’s mental health. They were living in an incredibly stressful situation, and Taemin was only just getting accustomed to dealing with Jinki after what happened so long ago. Key hoped that, if the worst happens again, Taemin might be in a better place, mentally, to deal with it. He's still so young, Key's confused boyfriend/girlfriend/motherly affection for the boy made him think, So Key didn't mention to the youngest boy that his nails hurt as they dug red crescents into his arm, because Jinki had Minho and Jonghyun to look after him; Taemin needed someone, too.

Jonghyun, impatient as ever, was the first one into the bathroom. Minho followed to help soothe anyone the elder idol may anger in his haste to find Jinki, while Key and Taemin waited outside. Key brushed some hair out of the younger boy’s face, tucking it behind his ear, about to tell him that there wasn't anything to worry about, because later they would get to enjoy watching Minho and Jonghyun grovel before their leader and beg for forgiveness, when the lead singer rushed out of the door, grabbing onto Key's shoulder, and gaping at him, like a fish.

"Jonghyun?" Key asked, tone a cross between worried and annoyed that only he could pull off. The older boy continued to be fishlike, forcing the younger one to pry the singer’s hand lose. "Yes, we all know you look like Donghae-hyung. Please stop now." Key said, but he persisted, his big eyes wide and his mouth moving up and down uselessly. "Minho! What’s wrong with him?" The younger rapper had yet to leave the bathroom, but Key's voice must have drawn him out, looking like he'd seen a ghost."...Okay, better question, what’s wrong with you?"

"Hyung’s not here," the taller boy said, and Key suddenly understood the stupid look on their faces; panic wasn’t really an attractive expression. Beside him, Taemin’s hand dug harder into his arm, making a choked off whimper of pure panic, and Key felt like the only person not losing his mind over the news, mainly because he currently had to man up and keep Taemin from breaking down. It’s funny how taking care of someone keeps you strong.

However, the noise seemed to snap Jonghyun out of his trance, as he shook his head and pointed at Key. “You two should go and check with security at the main entrance. Tell them Jinki-hyung’s missing, and have them check to see if anyone’s left the building in the last half hour. Minho and I will check the rest of this floor. Maybe he wandered off.” He gave the magnae a shaky smile, and Key wondered if it was to reassure him, but he was doing a piss poor job of it. “Stay together, okay?” He waited for Key to nod, before clasping Taemin’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze, then took off down the hall with Minho.

Key sighed and pulled Taemin into a tight hug, kissing him on the temple. “Come on, Minnie, Hyung needs us.” The youngest nodded but didn’t let go of the diva right away, nuzzling into his neck and inhaling deeply, like the smell of the older boy would somehow make him braver. Then he stepped back suddenly, and nodded, grabbing onto Kibum’s hand, and ran down the corridor towards the nearest security desk.

Ten minutes later, and they were no closer to finding Jinki. They’d been forced back into their practice room right after reporting Jinki missing, lock down the security officer said. When the cops got there, Jonghyun and Minho were forced to walk the head of security, and three different police officers, down the hall to the bathroom Jinki most likely used. One at a time. By the end, three of the four boys were angry and more than a little bit fed up with the significant lack of action on everyone else’s part, and Taemin was valiantly attempting to keep up, but even the bravest of boys would become exhausted, with a day’s worth of vocal lessons, recording sessions, and dance practice all crammed into their schedules before lunch, which they had yet to eat. The only reason any of them were still standing was because of the adrenaline.

“And this is the bathroom he went into?” the forth officer asked, making a note in his little flip book. Jonghyun was beginning to hate those little flip books. “You’re sure? Did one of you go with him?”

The eldest idol growled at the man, sick to death and back with the inane questions and the ‘let the professionals handle it, Jonghyun, you don’t know what you’re doing’ and the waiting and waiting and waiting. He didn’t want to wait or let someone else handle it. He wanted Jinki, alive and intact, in his arms or in Minho’s, but just there. “No. He’s not an invalid. He‘s a recovering rape victim who doesn’t want to be smothered.” The officer cocked an eyebrow at the attitude, but said nothing, making another note in his book, and Jonghyun fisted his hands in his lose sweatpants to keep from grabbing the stupid little thing and tearing it to shreds. It probably wouldn’t help anything. Before he could ask anything else, the singer turned and walked away from him, stalking down the halls like a caged wolf. Minho apologized to the cop and followed close behind him.

“Jjong,” the younger boy said quietly, in what he hoped was a calling tone, reaching a shaky hand to rest on the older boy’s tense shoulder. The moment he touched him, the singer spun around and pulled the taller boy into a bone crushing hug. Minho winced at the slight pain, but hugged back just as hard, squeezing tight and waiting for the older boy to start crying, ready to be his rock. The sobs never came.

“I’m scared, Minho,” the smaller boy whispered into Minho’s collarbone, and the confession of weakness from the older boy crumpled Minho’s façade of strength.

“I’m scared, too,” he found himself admitting, pressing his face into Jonghyun’s hair. “What if we can’t bring him back this time?” The lead singer didn’t say anything, just sighed heavily and pulled away, running his hand through his hair in a violent, nervous fashion, making Minho’s fingers twitch in a currently inappropriate urge to smooth it back down.

“This doesn’t make sense! That guard guy is dead, right? Boom, blew up in that fiery gas explosion thing, right? Who would want to take him? He’s so…happy, even now, even after everything. How could you look at him, and his smile, and want to hurt him?” the older boy growled. Then, with a sudden shout of pent up, hopeless fury, he lunged forward and punched the wall, with nothing more to gain than broken fingers and bloody knuckles, it made as much sense to Jonghyun as the thought of hurting soft, lovely Jinki.

His fist hit the wall with a dull ting, as if he’d hit something metal. Confused by the sound, Jonghyun had thought that with his superior strength his fist would have gone right through, he knocked, and listened to the almost musical noise, before running his hand along the wall about a foot, and knocked again, this time only getting the hollow clunking sound of skin on drywall. Jonghyun snapped his head up to Minho, who had moved closer to him after he’d punched the wall, partially to make sure he hadn’t broken anything, and partially because he was also confused by the unexpected noise. “It’s different,” the singer said dumbly, knocking on both areas of the wall again, as if to prove his point. Minho nodded, anticipation that they might have finally found something allowing Jonghyun’s obvious comment to slip by without being mocked, and together they gently rapped on the hidden metal wall, trying to determine its size and shape.

“It’s a door,” Minho whispered, running his fingers lightly over a seam in the plaster. “A metal door, leading to what? A hidden room in our practice studio?” He questioned, then shook his head; that was ridiculous. “Maybe just shoddy renovations.”

“Do you think anyone knows it’s here?” Jonghyun asked, pressing his palms flat against it, and pushing a little, it didn’t move. “The security guards walked right past it.” Minho shook his head, and pressed against the door, too, adding more force behind it. There was a sudden sound of metal against concrete as the door lurched forward a fraction. Both boys jumped. “Holy shit,” Jonghyun hissed, moving closer to push the door open more, but Minho caught his wrist.

“Wait,” the rapper said, pulling Jonghyun back, “what if someone’s in there?”

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” the singer said with a frown. “Now come on, let’s go. We need to see if Hyung is in there!”

The younger shook his head and gripped tighter. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if someone’s in there with a gun or something? Going in by ourselves won’t help anyone, not us and not Jinki-hyung. We should go and get the cops,” Minho said anxiously, tugging the elder boy towards where the police should still be gathered.

Jonghyun pulled against his grip, even as Minho determinedly started to drag him down the hall. “But…Hyung…” he trailed off, looking back at the slightly ajar door.

“Hyung is going to have to hold on until we can get help. We’ll only make things worse otherwise.”

~*~*~*~

There’s a difference, Jinki thinks as his body is slammed into one of the walls covered in his pictures, head bouncing painfully, between expecting pain and actually feeling it. When the man grabbed his arm to haul him away from the door, Jinki felt his bones grind against each other like rusted gears. When he slammed into one of the cast iron posts on the bed, the impact had chased the breath from his body, leaving him gasping for breath and crawling away with his good arm through shards of glass to get away. It hurt more than he remembered, more than he wanted it to. The pain didn’t stop, one hit after another, until Jinki didn’t know if the blood dripping out of his mouth was from his split lip or from something worse, a result from one of the kicks to his stomach or chest. By the time his body connected with the wall and slid down into a heap on the floor, Jinki could barely feel it anyway. It was like he was someone else, watching it all happen. Every once in a while, he would twitch a finger, and the bloody boy would move similarly, but that wasn’t him.

“Look what you made me do,” the guard scolded as he approached the boy. Jinki tried to warn him, felt his vocal cords hum with sound, but the only noise in the silence was the poor kid’s pitiful whine. The guard cupped the boy’s face, drawing another pathetic, pain filled noise as swollen cheeks that were probably split open inside pressed against teeth. “Why do you always make me hurt you? I love you. I don’t want to do this.”

“Liar,” the boy rasped, and the man backhanded him so hard even Jinki felt his ears ring. The boy’s head bounced off the wall, and he slumped forward a little. Onew’s vision flickered, hazing between total darkness and the tragic scene playing out in front of him. A sharp pain starting from his ribs made it hard to breath all of a sudden, and again darkness tunneled his vision as he felt himself being hauled up to his feet. He was missing a shoe, he noticed, dazed, and then wondered why he was on his knees. Hadn’t that been the other boy? The pain in his head was making it hard to think. He sagged against the man before him, stomach rolling painfully at the contact, but his legs could no longer support themselves.

Suddenly, there were hands on his waist and a voice, seemingly in his head. “It’s okay, baby. Just relax.” A tongue wormed its way in his ear. He tried to jerk away, but the slightest twist of his head sent nausea rolling through him. Something brushed against his thighs, and Onew gasped as his sweatpants were pushed down his trembling legs. He whined as the guard ran a hand down his thigh, then back up to thumb at the elastic of his baby blue boxer briefs. “Shush, love. Patience. We’re getting there.” The guard slipped a finger into Jinki’s waistband, stretching the fabric away from the idol’s skin. Onew whimpered, his face burning with humiliation as he tried to grab the man’s hand to stop him from looking down into his underwear, but the arm he wasn’t using to hold himself upright hurt too much to move.

“My baby isn’t having any fun?” the guard asked teasingly, pulling the idol’s colorful boxers down his legs to join his pants, leaving Jinki bare from the waist down. “I can fix that.”

The traumatized boy barely had enough time to utter a soft, panicked “no” before a cold, dry hand closed around his limp manhood and moved slowly up and down, a pace meant to tease. Jinki squirmed the best his weakened, battered body would allow, unprepared for the pleasing touch. Pain he had expected, even understood it would happen, but not this. He gasped as his cock twitched in the monster’s palm, trying to get him hard despite his pain. He hadn’t been ready for this. The thought of finding pleasure from this man had Onew biting the inside of his cheeks, twisting his swollen wrist left and right, and slamming his head back into the wall over and over again, hoping to overwhelm his body with pain, making it unable to feel anything else. He wasn’t planning on giving this man the satisfaction of his pleasure.

Jinki’s legs unexpectedly buckled after a loud, sickening thwack of his head against the wall, making him cry out in surprise, but also making the guard let him go to cradle his head. He sighed heavily, as if he were genuinely disappointed in what Jinki was doing, like a mother to her stubborn son. He shook his head, and pulled away, grabbing the idol’s upper arm so tightly Jinki could feel himself bruising and forcing him to move towards the bed, even as Onew stumbled due to his legs being tangled up.

“Let go,” he whispered helplessly, weakly trying to pull away, only to be violently dragged forward, making him fall onto his hands and knees on the concrete and shattered glass surrounding that side of the bed. The guard let him be for a moment, Jinki didn’t know what he was doing, and he used that moment to fight against feeling his body, trying to get back to that blissful unawareness where nothing hurt. He pushed the pain down, pushed it away, even the new pain, of the glass grinding into his bare flesh as he kneeled. His hands curled into fists as he fought against his feelings, right around a large, jagged shard that cut into his palm. His vision hazed in and out, but then he was free, observing his body being dragged forward by his hair. He supposed that should have hurt, and it probably would, should he survive this, but right at this moment, he was glad not to feel.

“Open your mouth, masochistic whore,” the guard growled, and Jinki shuddered into almost feeling as his body called him back; it didn’t know what to do. He told it to obey, and went back to being numb, observing detached and unemotional. It was hard to remember that was him opening his mouth slowly, resisting the order as the guard fumbled for his belt, pulling out his hard cock and easing it between Jinki’s body’s thick lips like he cared. Onew shuddered at the realization and tried to turn his back on the scene, to turn away from his humiliation, but couldn’t. He didn’t want to watch himself become dirtier than he already was, but he was unable to act.

The guard grunted disgustingly, holding Jinki’s head in place as he thrust inside, over and over. “Yeah, baby, that’s it. Use your tongue,” he broke off with a moan; again, Jinki had done what he was told to. A shiver of self-loathing ran through him, and he wondered if he could ever make it back from this. The last time this man had touched him, he almost lost himself to the darkness, deciding it was simply better not to live than to live in a world with him. Only Jonghyun and Minho had stopped him. Not his duties to SHINee or their fans as a leader, not his reputation as an idol, not his responsibilities as a son. It wasn’t even his love for the younger boys that had stopped him. They had just been there for him when he needed them the most. Jonghyun calls it fate. They’ve spent so much time on him since he was broken, putting his pieces back together, sliver by sliver, how could they start over? Would they want to? Jinki wanted them to, but lately what he wanted never seemed to happen. The thought of trying to survive without their warmth, their touches, or the way they just held him even when he didn’t know he needed it made his head swim more than his possible concussion. He’d rather die. But what were his options? The vase had done nothing; he was too weak and the monster was too strong. Even if he could get away, how would he get out? The door was too heavy and he could hardly stand. He could bite the man.

The thought must have made his body react, because the guard hissed angrily and reached down to grip Jinki’s jaw, forcing it open wider and thrusting hard inside, making Jinki crash back into himself momentarily. He was blindsided by the agony he was in, as he gagged around the thick flesh in his throat. He couldn’t breathe!

“Through your nose, whore,” the monster moaned out, head tossed back as he reviled in the feeling of the idol’s throat closing around him repeatedly as Jinki tried to get air into his lungs. Jinki’s body listened and his consciousness fled, once again seeking safety in his numbed, distant state. He’d rather die than be further defiled by this monster, but Jonghyun and Minho would be sad if he didn’t try and live. He could try and fight, and would most surely be killed, probably by accident, but Jonghyun and Minho would be so sad he hadn’t survived. He could almost picture their faces, twisted and ugly with such severe despair. He could give up, and let the inevitable happen, but Jonghyun and Minho might be sad he didn’t try and fight. More importantly, could Jinki look himself in the mirror, knowing he’d let his body be used, taken by someone other than the boys he loved, again? Wasn’t there a way out of this situation where he’s both whole and alive, instead of one or the other?

There was a sudden sound of metal against concrete that forced Jinki back into his body, the guard keeping a tight grip on his hair as he froze. Cynically, Jinki wondered how the man planned on explaining their situation to whoever was opening the door if he insisted on keeping Onew’s mouth on him. With the blood pounding in Jinki’s ears like a bad song, he couldn’t recognize the voices that floated through the narrow opening, or what they were saying, but that didn’t matter. The door was open and he wanted out. The voices faded and Onew bit down as hard as he could, his mouth too numb and coated with his own blood to know if he broke skin or not, but the guard let out a pained yelp and let go of the idol’s hair. Jinki acted on instinct, bringing the hand that held the glass up and stabbing it into the soft inner thigh of the guard. With no plan other than to slow him down as he let go, Onew used his good hand, now bloodied and imbedded with glass slivers, to pull himself away, grinding more glass into his flesh as he dragged his half naked body across the unforgiving concrete, never taking his eyes off of the man as he stood and swayed, pants around his knees, blood pouring out of the small gash Jinki had inflicted on him like a faucet. He took a step towards the idol, then another, before collapsing onto his knees.

He looked at Jinki, fear and confusion in his clouded eyes. “B-but,” he stuttered, his voice sluggish and drunk sounding. He shook his head, swaying backwards dangerously, before looking down at the idol one last time. “I loved you,” his voice was heartbroken, a single tear dripped from his left eye as he fell forward onto the floor, and didn’t move.

Jinki stayed where he was, frozen as he watched the man’s chest rise and fall, rise and fall. Rise…fall…Onew’s breath hitched when he realized the monster wasn’t breathing anymore. He dragged himself closer hesitantly, shaking the larger man, then dragging back, incase he’d woken him up from whatever it was that happened to him. The guard didn’t move. Jinki whined, high pitched and panicked, disoriented, crawling away from the door, away from the body of the man he’d just killed, to curl up into the corner. He struggled to pull his pants up as he threw up whatever was left of his breakfast, head throbbing like a drum. He stopped heaving by the time a pool of crimson liquid had seeped out around the man. Onew’s throat burned, his head swam, his vision danced and everything hurt, but he pressed his face against the cool plastic of one of his younger pictures and bit into his lower lip, fighting the encroaching dark of unconsciousness as he watched the body. Sure, he looked very-Jinki’s empty stomach rolled-dead, but this monster had come back to life before. He hoped someone found them before he did it again.

~*~*~*~

Jonghyun had never seen so many uniformed people all rush to the same place so fast. He longed to follow them, and tugged at Minho’s grip as they walked at a slower pace down the hall way. He realized this was probably why he’d make a bad leader; all he wanted to do was run and save Jinki. Minho, on the other hand, had a tight grip on the older boy’s wrist to prevent just that, as he nodded his head at Key, who had decided to take Taemin back to the car, incase…

“We’ll call you when we find him,” Jonghyun said determinedly, because to him there was no ‘incase’. They would find Jinki alive. “Minho-yah. Let go,“ he pulled again, and this time he was allowed to run down the hall, the taller boy’s hand no longer restricting him, latched onto his wrist, but a warm, reassuring presence in his hand as they ran, squeezing tightly.

The older men were all crowded around the opening in the wall, pushed far wider than Minho and Jong had left it, when they approached. Their manager and the head of security noticed them first.

“Boys, go back,” Manager-hyung said, his tone the pleading ‘please do as I say, I’m supposed to be the authority here’ he’d adopted since Key had kicked him out of the dorm. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Is Jinki-hyung in there?” the lead singer demanded, ignoring his manager as he tried to push around the two men. “We need to see him. He needs us. Please.” The last words were tight and choked, as the idol fought not to break down into tears in front of these strangers.

One of the cops came out of the room and whispered something to the others, gesturing back to the door. Minho did a quick head count and realized that one of the cops must still be in there for whatever reason. “Yeah, we’re gonna need two buses and the ME,” the oldest officer said, speaking into his shoulder mounted radio. The chief security guard’s eyes nearly crossed as he hurried over to them, asking if they could wait on the ME, pronounce him DOA at the hospital instead. LSM would have his head if someone died on site.

Without the security officers’ authority to help hold them, Minho and Jonghyun muscled past the manager and the police, who were too busy trying to make the officer understand why moving an obviously dead body from a crime scene was illegal. The first thing Jonghyun noticed when he stepped into the room was the pictures, just everywhere, pictures of Onew staring back at him from every direction. The level of obsession this man had for their Jinki made the lead singer want to tear his throat out with his teeth.

“Oh, god,” Minho’s tight, panicked voice drew the older idol’s gaze to where he was looking. To something impossible. This man (more like giant, unless Taecyeon had suddenly dyed his hair light brown, and become crazy-obsessed with Jinki)…this man had to be the guard, who died a little over a month ago. Impossible. Jonghyun wanted to be furious that this vile being had his hands on Jinki once again, but there was no denying the large pool of viscous red liquid he lay in.

The taller idol’s words startled the cop in the room, who jumped from his position, crouched with his back to the door, close to the opposite corner, and wheeled around to face them. He was a young looking man, possibly no older than Jonghyun himself, with a look of shocked hopelessness on his face he wasn’t seasoned enough to hide. “Y-you can’t be in here. This is a crime scene. You need to leave.”

“Where’s Lee Jinki?” Minho asked, ignoring the stuttered plea. “Have you found him yet?” The officer flinched and shifted his weight from foot to foot. It was then that Jonghyun realized there was someone behind him, pressed into the bottom of the corner.

“This is an active crime scene and you need to leave,” the young cop repeated, his voice a little stronger now. “Sergeant Kim is in the hall, he’ll answ-”

“Jinki!” Jonghyun interrupted with a cry of pure despair. He’d been trying to see the person behind the cop, too curious to leave it alone. The older boy was a mess, pure and simple. His face was swollen, bruises having bloomed on both of his cheeks. His mouth was open as he panted, his bottom lip split in several places, blood trickling down his chin and neck, dripping onto his shirt, which was now more red than white. Minho’s sharp intake of breath told him he wasn’t making it up. The battered idol’s eyes opened sluggishly, the slight bruising under them meant he’d have black eyes within the day at the latest. Glazed over honey orbs surrounded by a sea of angry, inflamed red stared over in their general direction, but Jonghyun wondered if he really saw them.

“J-jonghyun?” the broken boy rasped, then made a deep, pain filled groan as he tried to shake his head as if to clear it. “Please be…” he trailed off, panting harder, as if it were a trial just to speak. “Minho?” his voice sounded desperate now.

“I’m here,” the rapper said quickly. “We both are. We’re going to approach you now, okay?” Jinki whined, but didn’t protest, and the cop looked on, startled as the two idols approached the injured boy, passing the line where he’d been told to come no closer.

As he got closer, Minho noticed the swollen, bruising along Jinki’s left wrist, which was cradled to his chest. Both of the older boy’s hands were bloody messes, curled slightly in on themselves and not really moving. Minho sank down on his knees, to Onew’s eye level, and stretched his hand out a little, but froze mid-reach, unsure of where to touch to make everything better. He felt Jonghyun slide down next to him, the singer gripping his shoulder tightly. The older man smiled at them a little, eyes still glazed and unfocused, slowly reaching up a hand to wipe his thumb across Minho’s cheek, catching the tears the rapper didn’t know he was crying, but leaving a wet, red trail in its wake.

“Don’t cry, Minho-yah,” he whispered, voice like sandpaper on stone, wincing as his hand fell onto his lap. “I’m here,” but then his eyes fluttered and he listed heavily to the side. Jonghyun’s quick hands caught him, keeping him upright, but his grip made the older man sob painfully. “It h-hurts,” he whimpered, eyes overflowing with sudden tears. “I don’t…it…Jjong, please,” he reached his bloody hand out again, grasping onto the lead singer’s shirt like a lifeline, “make it stop.”

“Hyung,” the younger boy started to say, but his voice seized up as he tried not to cry, “The ambulance is on its way, everything is going to be okay now. You’re safe. Minho and I-” he broke off again, voice shaking as the tears he was fighting won, “we’ve got you now. You’re safe.” Jinki smiled, so heartbreakingly pure, even after everything, then sagged back against the wall, his eyes rolling back into his head. “Hyung?” Jonghyun asked, voice sounding young and lost in his panic, he would have shaken the older idol if Minho hadn’t stopped him. “Hyung, wake up. Jinki-hyung!” Onew didn’t respond, his breathing was staggered and ragged, a disconcerting, wet gargle punctuated every few breaths, until suddenly the older boy’s body seized up, the coughing fit shaking his battered body harshly, before he stopped breathing. “JINKI!”

~*~*~*~

White wasn’t the color Jinki liked to wake up to, but wherever he was, was very bright white. For a moment, he entertained the thought that he was dead, and he’d breathed his last with Minho and Jonghyun surrounding him, telling him he was safe, and Jinki felt content. But…if he were truly dead, what was with the buzzing in his ears? Hazy whiteness he got, but the annoying noises? Not so much. So he focused on the buzzing, trying to figure out what it was, and the more he focused on it, the less it sounded like buzzing and the more it sounded like words.

“Ow ow ow ow ow! Yah! Kim Kibum, will you stop hitting me? I am your hyung, show some respect!”

“Oh, respect? I’ll give you respect. Half an hour waiting in that fucking car, not knowing anything, until Manager-hyung comes and tells us you two ass clowns went with Jinki-hyung to the hospital. Where the fuck is our respect? What happened to ‘I’ll call you’? You’re a goddamn fucking jerk, that’s what happened. How’s that for respect?!”

Jinki blinked up at the hazy whiteness, which he‘s decided to call ceiling from now on. He knew those voices. Kibum and Jonghyun. They were fighting, he should really get them to stop that, Key hurt when he hit, but his limbs felt numb and heavy, weighed down by something. He closed his eyes and focused on them, and determined that they were all still there, just wrapped up in something. Bandages, probably. There was a mask, or something, on his face, and ‘heaven’ was starting to feel a lot more like ‘hospital’. That, however, didn’t explain the haziness. He tried to lift one of his heavy hands, to rub his eyes, but suddenly the room went quiet save for a steady beeping, and a quick “did you see that?” then a hand was gently pushing his arm back down.

“Hyung?” a hesitant, scared voice asked. Jinki wracked his muddled brain to remember who it belonged to. “Are you awake?” Oh. Minho.

Jinki opened his mouth to say something, only to croak somewhat painfully, and as if his body needed a reminder of what it was supposed to be feeling, everything started to hurt. Onew whispered as pain speared through his body, closing his eyes against the sudden, intense feeling of it all.

“Jinki-hyung, don’t try and move, okay?” Minho sounded a little panicked. Was he moving? He didn’t feel like he was moving. “Just…just stay still, okay? Jonghyun, go and get a doctor, tell them he’s awake.” There was a shuffling as footsteps fell rapidly against linoleum. Against the younger boy’s wishes, Jinki turned his head slowly to look at Minho. His image, even fussy as it was, was comforting.

“Don’t try and move, Hyung,” he tutted, voice thick with affection. “You’re banged up pretty bad,” he hesitated, before running his fingertips down Jinki’s exposed upper arm. “The doctor will be here in a bit, okay?” Onew blinked and went back to staring at the ceiling until the bed shifted as someone sat next to him.

“Hello, Jinki,” the soft, kind voice of Dr. Lee said, looking down on the idol with a careful expression. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet. Do you know where you are?” The idol let his eyes run over her face, clearer than anything else he’d seen since he woke up, and answered with a raspy, pained, “yes”. He wanted to say hospital, but he didn’t think his voice could handle more than one-syllable words. Dr. Lee smiled at him, bringing her penlight up and shining it in his eyes. “Follow the light,” she said, moving it side to side and up and down. Soon it was too much for Jinki’s strained eyes, and he closed them with a painful whimper, turning away. She sighed and said something to the nurse standing next to the bed, something in medicalese. The other woman nodded and injected a clear liquid into Onew’s IV. “Sleep now, okay? You need to rest for a while longer.”

~*~*~*~

The next time Jinki became fully aware of himself, three days had passed and his band mates were under doctor’s orders to stay home and sleep. Onew pressed the call button to let the nurses know he was awake and waited. Five minutes later, Dr. Lee and Dr. Choi both walked in. Dr. Lee held a cup with a straw in it, but she waited until her older sister had the idol sitting up before she gave the drink to Jinki.

“This will help your throat,” she said helpfully. Jinki took a long sip, and moaned a little as cold water poured down his throat like rain in a desert, soothing the painful flames that resided there. When he stopped drinking, he was surprised to feel a slight tingling, like medicine had been applied. “That’s better, isn’t it?” He nodded slowly and took another sip.
“Jinki,” she continued, sitting down on his bed, “you are a very lucky boy, do you know that?” He blinked at her, once again her face was the only thing not hazed or blurred around the edges, unlike how she’d been just moments prior. He shook his head; he didn’t feel lucky, then he winced as he was hit with nauseous dizziness. “Ah, sorry. Try not to move your head so much. You’ve suffered massive head trauma, Jinki. You have a very serious concussion…” she trailed off and looked over at her sister. Dr. Choi nodded and inclined her head towards Jinki. “You’ve…also suffered from some brain damage, I’m afraid.” She rested her hand hesitantly on one of his bandaged ones. “It’s nothing too severe, but we’re going to keep you here for a few days longer, to be sure.”
Jinki gaped at her. Brain damage? He scrambled for words to say. “What-” he broke off with a hiss; even with the medication, his throat still burned. Dr. Lee made a sympathetic noise.
“No, no. Don’t try and talk yet. You’ve got a bruised esophagus and your larynx is inflamed.” She ran a cool, clinical hand down his throat. “Which, by the way, are healing very nicely. Now, what, what?” She hummed, trying to figure out his one word question. Dr. Choi groaned in the background.

“What type of brain damage, idiot. God, we both had the same amount of schooling, right?” Jinki would have laughed at her if he wasn’t so afraid he might never walk again.

Dr. Lee scowled at her older sister, before turning back to Onew and patting his bandaged hand. “It’s your eyes, Jinki. Your optical lobe, that’s in the back of your head,” she placed her hand on the back of hers to demonstrate, “was damaged. It’s nothing too major, but your vision is going to be impaired for the rest of your life.”

Jinki blinked and looked down, trying to figure out if he was relieved or depressed by the news. Needing glasses for the rest of his life was a whole lot better than not being able to walk, but it was just another permanent reminder of what happened to him on his body. He sighed heavily, breath fogging up the mask on his face, which was starting to become itchy, once he paid attention to it. His fingers twitched to remove it, and he must have moved or something because again Dr. Lee was making that sympathetic noise.

“You’ll have to leave the mask on, I’m sorry.” Her voice had lost its normal, playful tone, replaced with the hard edge of a doctor who knows what she’s doing. “You have a fluid buildup in your lungs, and one of two ways to fix it without surgery is to saturate your body with oxygen. And if that doesn’t work…” she trailed off, “the other way isn’t very pleasant.” Jinki was sure there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he wasn’t really in the position to call her out on it. “I’m going to leave you with Dr. Choi now, okay?” she reached a hand up, as if to pet his hair, only to sigh and stand. “I’ll be back to check up on you in a bit.”

Dr. Choi’s blurry outline leaned forward in her chair when her sister left, drawing his attention. She watched him for a while, running a critical eye over his bandaged body, then sighed.

“You have a fractured wrist, bruised ribs, and they pulled so much glass out of you I’m pretty sure they could rebuild whatever it was that shattered,” she told him, then stood, walking to the side of his bed. “I know it hurts to talk and move your head, so I’m going to ask you some simple questions, blink once for yes and twice for no.” Jinki blinked at her. “There you go. Now, first question, very important. Can you talk?” he blinked once, and hummed a bit to try and tell her he could, but winced at the sting. “That’s good. Maybe, when you get out of here, you’ll jump back into being an idol quicker.” He didn’t know if that was a question or not, but Onew blinked once anyway. He’d been too close to just give it all up now. “You fought hard this time,” she observed. He didn’t blink. “Most of the time, the police will tell victims to do whatever it takes to survive, and that usually means ‘don’t fight back’ but then, they don’t have to live with the knowledge of what happened, do they?” She sighed, then looked down at him. “Jinki, can you look at yourself in the mirror, look into the eyes of the man staring back at you, and know that he did nothing wrong in choosing to survive?” The idol looked away, unsure of how to answer. He killed a man. How will that ever be okay? Before he could answer, there was a gentle knock on the door, and Minho poked his head inside.

“Sorry to interrupt, but they said that Hyung was awake?” the tall idol could barely keep the excitement out of his tone.

Dr. Choi smiled and patted Jinki on the shoulder. “Think on what I’ve said, okay? We’ll talk later.” She left, and Minho and Key walked into the room. The diva had a bunch of baby blue balloons and one that was metallic and had the words “It’s a boy!” on it. Jinki raised an eyebrow at him, and he flushed.

“It was either this or the pink ones that said “Congrats to the happy mother” so be happy, alright?” he ordered, placing them next to the bed and sitting down.

Minho laughed, his voice a deep harmony that made Jinki feel better almost instantly, as he sat closer to the bed and stroked Jinki’s hair. “Kibummie, aren’t you supposed to call Jonghyun if Hyung is awake?”

The band umma sneered. “He can fucking wait half an hour, see how he likes it.” Jinki clicked his tongue at the Diva’s language, but had to smile at his antics. “Sorry, Hyung,” Key muttered sheepishly.

Minho shook his head and stood. “I guess I’ll go call him. Wait here, Hyung,” he pulled his phone out and walked away, ignoring Key’s “Where the hell else is he gonna go?”

When he left, the diva moved closer to the bed. “Hyung,” he said, then stopped, and looked around, playing with the older boy’s bandaged fingers, as he tried to collect himself. “Jinki-hyung, I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, we all are,” he backtracked, incase Onew’s insecurities had come back, “but I am, too, and I mean…” his voice got lower as his tone got more serious. “I’m glad you killed him, too. Don’t…don’t tell me good Christian boys shouldn’t wish death on people, Siwon-hyung already tried that and I still don’t believe him. If you hadn’t done it, I would have. Nothing would have stopped me from taking his life. Not being an idol, not Taemin, nothing.” His voice was steel and Jinki didn’t doubt that Key would have done as he claimed. “He wasn’t going to stop. He had his chance, he could have, but he didn’t and it’s…better that he’s gone.” He broke off again, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand. “I love you, you know that? Not like how Jonghyun and Minho love you, or how I love Taemin, but I love you, and I’m really, really glad you’re okay.” He glanced up at Jinki with wide, vulnerable eyes, and then looked away.

The older idol watched him as he furiously wiped his face, and slowly reached his hand up, catching one of the tears with his bandaged finger and brushing it away. Key looked back at him, and Jinki just smiled.

At that moment, Minho walked back in. “Alright, so they’re on their way over,” he said cheerfully, then stopped, taking in Key’s red, tearstained face, and frowned. “Is everything okay?”

Jinki just smiled at him and blinked.



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