tear us down (4/4)
Title: tear us down
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: None, OT12
Genre: Murder/Suspense
Word Count: 18,060 words
Warnings: Death, mentions of child abuse
Summary: Circus!AU. There is no such thing as being able to bury the past.
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV
“Zitao...?”
Zitao flinches at the sound of Kris’ voice and quickly releases his grip on Jongdae’s throat, the snake charmer’s limp form collapsing against the ground. With heavy breaths that leave clouds in the crisp night air, Kris stumbles to a stop a few feet from Zitao, his eyes wide, confused and fearful. “What-”
With a harsh laugh, Zitao gives Kris a sideways glance, his mouth curving into a crude grin. “It’s really your fault, you know,” he says quietly, his hands clenched loosely against his sides. The lion tamer gapes at him uncertainly, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Zitao, are you sure you’re all right-”
“You were supposed to be dead.”
“What are you-” Kris stops himself as the other’s words slowly process in his mind. Zitao isn’t smiling anymore, and he gives Kris an eerie stare over his shoulder, his neck turned at an almost gruesome angle that leaves an unsettling feeling spreading through Kris’ veins.
“You...”
The other turns to fully face Kris, his head tilted mockingly to the side. “I never did tell you my name, did I.”
And then Kris understands.
-
There once was a boy named Huang Zitao.
When he was ten, his father sold him to a traveling circus to get money to repay his gambling debts. He never saw his father or mother again.
The ringmaster of the circus was a gentle soul, a fragile young man with crinkled eyes and flimsy brown hair that peaked out from beneath a floppy beret, known simply as Leeteuk. The first day, he smiled sadly at the boy and patted his head once, before kneeling down in front of Zitao and giving him a firm look, his eyes tired and serious. “Listen carefully,” he said. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay silent, and stay in the background. Do not draw attention to yourself. Do not draw attention to others.”
“Your name is not Huang Zitao. You have no identity here. You have no story. You have no opinion.”
You are nobody.
-
Zitao was easily the youngest in the troupe. Besides him, there was only one other member younger than eighteen.
They met on his third day after joining the circus.
“Hey, you’re new! What’s your name? How old are you? Will you be staying forever? Wanna be my friend?”
Zitao gave the other boy a blank look, allowing himself to answer only one of the questions. “Ten.”
“Ha! I’m older than you, I’m twelve.” The boy stuck out his tongue teasingly and slung an arm around Zitao’s shoulders. “What’s your name?”
“...I don’t have one.”
“Okay, wanna be my friend?”
-
His name was Kevin.
“Your name sounds stupid,” Zitao had told him once, scrunching up his nose in distaste, but the other boy had only responded cheerfully, “At least I have a name!” Zitao never told him otherwise.
With messy black hair and an awkward smile that lit up his whole face, Kevin was hard not to like. His hands were too big and his legs were too lanky, and his eyebrows were huge, bushy, and absolutely ridiculous. He had run away from home and joined the circus about a year before Zitao had, and the troupe was training him to be an acrobat, much to his dismay.
“I’d much rather become an animal tamer, you know? I’m not coordinated enough for all this stuff,” Kevin often told Zitao, usually after a particularly grueling day of practice. Whenever Kevin went missing, Zitao always found him near the animal cages pestering Zhoumi, the circus’ lion tamer.
-
S.M. Circus was harsh. Rules were strictly enforced, and it was soon obvious to Zitao that Leeteuk was not the one in charge of the large troupe: there were others who controlled the circus from the shadows. The words and orders were carried through the ringmaster, but he was really just a puppet under their control. The true leaders were secretive, cruel, and lashed out at anyone who dared speak against them, or those who were simply deemed inferior to their reign. No one knew who was truly in charge, but everyone knew to keep silent whenever Leeteuk showed up in the morning with purpling bruises blemishing the side of his face.
-
Child performers were considered the lowest. Kevin did his best to show Zitao the best places to stay hidden, instructing him on the safest way to answer questions in order to avoid abuse: Stay silent unless spoken to, never raise your eyes or lift your chin even when addressed.
Zitao tried his best, he really did, but the trainers always seemed to find a reason to call his performances inadequate.
-
“What kind of moron accepted you into this circus?” The trainer, a cold-faced woman with angry curls that bounced around her face, gave Zitao a steely look and held up his chin with the tip of her whip-handle. “Do you honestly expect to become a proper acrobat with moves like this?”
Zitao grit his teeth and said nothing, averting his eyes respectfully. The woman gave an ugly snort, forcing the handle rougher under his jaw. “Look at me when I speak.”
Zitao raised his eyes cautiously and immediately flinched when the whip cracked against his cheek. He didn’t quite manage to stop the gasp of pain that escaped his lips, and the woman cackled crudely, her face crinkling under heavy makeup as she brought the whip down once more, against his shoulder blade. Zitao choked on a sob, feeling tears sting at his eyes as the whip clashed twice more against his back.
The trainer gave his side a swift kick as he crumpled to the ground. “Weak,” she whispered, her voice scathing and her face marred by an emotionless frown. Zitao only grimaced in reply, beads of sweat glistening against his skin as he felt blood slowly seeping through his tattered shirt. Unsatisfied with his response, the woman kicked him again, the sharp point of her boot digging into the sensitive skin of Zitao’s stomach and knocking the air from his lungs.
The young boy broke into a coughing fit, a mix of blood and saliva spitting from his mouth as his hands scraped helplessly at the dirt floor beneath him.
Zitao whimpered through his tears, any remaining pride gone from his fragile form as he clutched his arms tight against his small chest. “Please...” The trainer raised her arm again, but as Zitao squeezed his eyes shut in dread, the lash never came.
“Stop.”
Kevin grabbed at the woman’s wrist, his eyes glinting dangerously as he pulled her away from a trembling Zitao. The trainer quickly wrenched herself from the other boy’s grasp, her voice shrill as she slapped him heavily across the face.
“Trying to protect your friend?” she snarled, turning her whip on Kevin instead. The boy yelped, cowering as she lashed at him again and again, her voice rising an octave as she broke deep cuts into his flesh. “You’re no better than he is, and remember it well, you little shit.”
The woman continued her attack, and Zitao could only watch with blurry vision as Kevin fell to the ground as well.
-
“Who do you think they are, Kevin?”
“Who?”
“The higher ups.”
“Don’t be stupid, there’s no way you could find them.”
“Maybe I don’t have to find them.”
-
Zitao was thirteen the night he left S.M. Circus, bearing three years worth of scars on his back. He picked his way gently through the dry forest leaves, marveling at the crisp air that freshened his lungs and eased his mind as flames crackled and soared from the wreckage behind him.
His tunic was painted a crimson red, splattered with the blood of others and smeared with ashes from the fire. With hair matted in clumps and crusted red stains drying against his skin, Zitao played idly with a grey beret in one hand, his other clutching a silver pistol.
The moon was bright and full, and the young boy gave a small smile to the light that filtered down on him through the trees. “It was too hard to figure out who the leaders were,” he told the moon, grinning serenely as he basked in the midnight glow. “So I just got rid of everyone. It’s easier that way, right?”
He expected Kevin to come running out of the flames to join him, but the other never appeared.
-
There are silent tears trailing down Kris’ face, and he falls back against a tree as Zitao advances towards him, an eerie smile still present on his face. “I assumed you were dead,” he repeats, his eyes glittering dangerously. “You’re personality is so different now, Kevin. I barely recognized you.”
Kris gapes at him, his eyes wide with both recognition and horror. “You...” he whispers into the cold air, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “It was you?”
“I did it for you, Kevin. I promised you I’d get rid of the higher ups.”
“You killed everyone, Zitao, I-” Kris takes a shuddering breath. “You almost killed me.”
Zitao frowns at him. “That was not my intention. I thought the fire had taken you.”
“I... escaped with the lion cubs, but-” He pulls himself back up to full height, his face contorted in a mix of suffering and hatred.
“Zitao, you took away everyone I cared about, including yourself.” His voice is quiet and anguished. “I lost everyone that night, and yet... you came back and... and killed my friends a second time.” He makes to raise a hand, almost as if to strike, but his arm shakes and falters and he lowers it once more.
“I tried to build a new family, to forget the past, and you’ve... you’ve taken that all away.” With tears now streaming down his face, Kris wipes at his cheeks angrily.
“I can’t forgive that, Zitao.”
Zitao’s grin only wavers a little as he reaches down and pulls out a narrow silver knife from his boot, one of Kyungsoo’s old ones. “That’s too bad,” he says, his eyes narrowed calmly and his mouth stretched wide as he presses the blade to Kris’ throat. “I was the only family you needed, don’t you see?”
Kris stares back at him, his face calm and resigned, his mouth twitching into a tortured grin. “That’s not what family does.”
Zitao smiles and digs the knife deep into Kris’ jugular.
“I did it for you, Kevin.”
-
There’s a deafening roar, startling the audience as lights flood the stage. A tall, ferocious-looking man takes center stage, his hands gently pressed against the backs of two huge lions, their golden coats shimmering as the two felines scrutinize the surrounding crowd of people.
Suho waves gallantly at the crowd, his cheery red coat and small stature dwarfed beside the lion tamer’s presence. “The final act, everyone! Please, welcome Kris, our lion tamer. With his command, he has established control over some of the fiercest animals known to man.” He gives a flourishing bow and exits the ring.
Kris waves once to the audience, giving a small smile before focusing on setting up three large hoops, positioned one on top of the next. The lions observe carefully from the side, watching as their master steps back behind the hoops. He gives a sharp command, and the male lion steps forward, his long mane rippling in waves as he pads up to the lowest hoop. With another call from Kris, the lion jumps through the ring, landing daintily on the ground with a soft thud of his paws, padding forwards to meet Kris on the other side. The lion tamer gives the cat a gentle pat on the head and turns, calling out to the second lion.
This one, a large female, moves forward, her paces speeding up slightly as she launches herself through the middle hoop, flying through the air and landing just a little behind where Kris stands with the first lion. The crowd cheers with delight, and Kris smiles and ruffles the feline’s ears.
With another call to the two cats, Kris walks around to the other side of the hoops, leading the female with him while the male lion stands still in obedience. Once the lions are facing opposite each other, the man pulls back, standing to the side as the lions swivel their eyes after his footsteps, waiting.
Kris gives another command, and the lions back up slowly, their eyes still focused in on their master’s movements, ears perked for the sound of his voice.
The lion tamer raises one arm in front of him, shouting a last call to the animals, and both lions rush towards the hoops at once. With a powerful leap, the male lion soars through the top hoop, limbs stretched and muscles rippling as the female lion leaps gracefully through the hoop just below at the same time. The audience bursts into applause as the lions land delicately on the ground once more, immediately padding up to Kris and nuzzling into his sides as he bows to the audience. The crowd gasps in awe as the larger lion suddenly lets out an ear-splitting roar, and Kris just laughs, not the least bit fazed by the lion’s enthusiasm as he carefully leads the two cats out of the ring.
-
Zitao raises the knife against the moonlight, squinting at it through tears he didn’t realize he had shed. Kris’ body sags against the tree, and Zitao watches the light glint against his blade, tainted by the drips of crimson that trail down from the tip.
Gingerly, he straightens his back and picks his way through the bodies strewn across the ground, gazing thoughtfully at Jongdae’s peaceful expression, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly, red bruises ringing his neck and blood matted and dried into his hair. He examines Baekhyun’s troubled frown, his eyes still wide with shock and his arms hanging limply from his sides at gruesome angles.
Zitao doesn’t look back at Kris.
“Don’t move!”
Standing still in the midst of the trees, Zitao clearly hears the cock of a pistol from somewhere to his right. Swiveling on the balls of his feet, he finds Junmyeon standing a few meters away, his small form trembling with fear and his hands shaking as he clutches Zitao’s silver pistol between clammy palms. “Don’t move!” he says again, his voice becoming hysterical as he aims the gun directly at Zitao’s heart. “One move and I’ll shoot!”
Zitao gives him a smile. “I knew I had forgotten someone.”
Junmyeon makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his index finger pressing up next to the trigger. Zitao grins wider and puts his hands in the air, mocking the ringmaster with a feigned expression of defeat. Junmyeon glares at him angrily, “I’ll do it, you know, I really will!”
Zitao shakes his head, still smiling. “You’re hesitating, Junmyeon.”
Junmyeon gives him a furious look, biting his lip as he tries to keep the gun steady. “Zitao, why-” his voice catches in his throat, and he swallows painfully. “Why did you do it?”
Zitao leers at him. “I had to, don’t you see? I tried to stay low, to bury my past, but-” He tilts his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Yixing knew too much. And Jongin, he saw too much, and said too much; Kyungsoo listened too carefully.”
“Chanyeol seemed too liable to believe to Jongdae’s words, and Minseok? He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Zitao snorts dryly, his lips quirking at the edges.
“Stop-” Junmyeon blurts out, his voice raw and his eyes wet. He raises the gun warningly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t-”
But Zitao continues, his grin growing wider, crueler. “It’s like a game, don’t you think? If I had let Luhan and Sehun get away, who knows what they could have told others?”
Junmyeon whimpers, his fingers fidgeting as the gun grows slippery in his hand. “Please...” he whispers, but his broken plea is ignored.
“Jongdae knew it was me, but he had no proof, no leverage. Everyone suspected him, after all.” Zitao says, his eyes bright. He cocks his head to one side, his smile stretching tight against his cheeks as he bores his eyes deep into Junmyeon’s. “Except you, hm? So trustworthy, you are. I ought to thank you, really. Without your loyalty, they might have suspected me earlier.”
A dry sob racks the ringmaster’s body and his legs give way, the gun slipping from his grasp as he folds over on his knees. “Zitao-” he rasps, his eyes filled with terror as he gives the younger boy a desperate look. “I can’t-”
Zitao picks up the pistol delicately in one hand and presses the gun tip against Junmyeon’s temple.
“Thanks for taking me in, Junmyeon. It was fun, while it lasted.”
-
Suho returns to the center of the ring once more as the applause slowly dies down.The spotlight focuses in on the young ringmaster’s blaring red coat, the golden trim glittering around the edges, and his smile is bright and bold as he tips his crimson top-hat to the crowd, giving them a dazzling show of teeth.
“It’s been an enjoyable evening, my friends. The show is at last drawing to a close, but it is my wish that what you have seen here today will live on in your memories for a lifetime.” The man raises his baton once into the air, catching it with the other hand and giving a swooping bow.
As he rise back to his full height, Suho grins mysteriously, the shadows of the tent casting patterns against his face, hiding in the creases and folds of his suit. He returns his hat to his head with a delicate sweep of his fingers, the brim tilting precariously as he addresses the audience one more time with a little tug at the corners of his mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen... boys and girls.”
“Thank you for joining us.”
With his last words echoing through the tent, darkness falls and Suho slips away, exiting the ring.
-
“You want to join our Troupe?” The ringmaster, an odd-looking fellow who introduces himself as Onew, frowns uncertainly at the young man before him. “Do you even know how to perform?”
Zitao nods shyly, twirling a battered, crimson top hat in his hands. “I’ve had some experience.”
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV
A/N: hi i hope this wasn't too long don't hurt me thanks for reading sobs
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: None, OT12
Genre: Murder/Suspense
Word Count: 18,060 words
Warnings: Death, mentions of child abuse
Summary: Circus!AU. There is no such thing as being able to bury the past.
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV
“Zitao...?”
Zitao flinches at the sound of Kris’ voice and quickly releases his grip on Jongdae’s throat, the snake charmer’s limp form collapsing against the ground. With heavy breaths that leave clouds in the crisp night air, Kris stumbles to a stop a few feet from Zitao, his eyes wide, confused and fearful. “What-”
With a harsh laugh, Zitao gives Kris a sideways glance, his mouth curving into a crude grin. “It’s really your fault, you know,” he says quietly, his hands clenched loosely against his sides. The lion tamer gapes at him uncertainly, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Zitao, are you sure you’re all right-”
“You were supposed to be dead.”
“What are you-” Kris stops himself as the other’s words slowly process in his mind. Zitao isn’t smiling anymore, and he gives Kris an eerie stare over his shoulder, his neck turned at an almost gruesome angle that leaves an unsettling feeling spreading through Kris’ veins.
“You...”
The other turns to fully face Kris, his head tilted mockingly to the side. “I never did tell you my name, did I.”
And then Kris understands.
-
There once was a boy named Huang Zitao.
When he was ten, his father sold him to a traveling circus to get money to repay his gambling debts. He never saw his father or mother again.
The ringmaster of the circus was a gentle soul, a fragile young man with crinkled eyes and flimsy brown hair that peaked out from beneath a floppy beret, known simply as Leeteuk. The first day, he smiled sadly at the boy and patted his head once, before kneeling down in front of Zitao and giving him a firm look, his eyes tired and serious. “Listen carefully,” he said. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay silent, and stay in the background. Do not draw attention to yourself. Do not draw attention to others.”
“Your name is not Huang Zitao. You have no identity here. You have no story. You have no opinion.”
You are nobody.
-
Zitao was easily the youngest in the troupe. Besides him, there was only one other member younger than eighteen.
They met on his third day after joining the circus.
“Hey, you’re new! What’s your name? How old are you? Will you be staying forever? Wanna be my friend?”
Zitao gave the other boy a blank look, allowing himself to answer only one of the questions. “Ten.”
“Ha! I’m older than you, I’m twelve.” The boy stuck out his tongue teasingly and slung an arm around Zitao’s shoulders. “What’s your name?”
“...I don’t have one.”
“Okay, wanna be my friend?”
-
His name was Kevin.
“Your name sounds stupid,” Zitao had told him once, scrunching up his nose in distaste, but the other boy had only responded cheerfully, “At least I have a name!” Zitao never told him otherwise.
With messy black hair and an awkward smile that lit up his whole face, Kevin was hard not to like. His hands were too big and his legs were too lanky, and his eyebrows were huge, bushy, and absolutely ridiculous. He had run away from home and joined the circus about a year before Zitao had, and the troupe was training him to be an acrobat, much to his dismay.
“I’d much rather become an animal tamer, you know? I’m not coordinated enough for all this stuff,” Kevin often told Zitao, usually after a particularly grueling day of practice. Whenever Kevin went missing, Zitao always found him near the animal cages pestering Zhoumi, the circus’ lion tamer.
-
S.M. Circus was harsh. Rules were strictly enforced, and it was soon obvious to Zitao that Leeteuk was not the one in charge of the large troupe: there were others who controlled the circus from the shadows. The words and orders were carried through the ringmaster, but he was really just a puppet under their control. The true leaders were secretive, cruel, and lashed out at anyone who dared speak against them, or those who were simply deemed inferior to their reign. No one knew who was truly in charge, but everyone knew to keep silent whenever Leeteuk showed up in the morning with purpling bruises blemishing the side of his face.
-
Child performers were considered the lowest. Kevin did his best to show Zitao the best places to stay hidden, instructing him on the safest way to answer questions in order to avoid abuse: Stay silent unless spoken to, never raise your eyes or lift your chin even when addressed.
Zitao tried his best, he really did, but the trainers always seemed to find a reason to call his performances inadequate.
-
“What kind of moron accepted you into this circus?” The trainer, a cold-faced woman with angry curls that bounced around her face, gave Zitao a steely look and held up his chin with the tip of her whip-handle. “Do you honestly expect to become a proper acrobat with moves like this?”
Zitao grit his teeth and said nothing, averting his eyes respectfully. The woman gave an ugly snort, forcing the handle rougher under his jaw. “Look at me when I speak.”
Zitao raised his eyes cautiously and immediately flinched when the whip cracked against his cheek. He didn’t quite manage to stop the gasp of pain that escaped his lips, and the woman cackled crudely, her face crinkling under heavy makeup as she brought the whip down once more, against his shoulder blade. Zitao choked on a sob, feeling tears sting at his eyes as the whip clashed twice more against his back.
The trainer gave his side a swift kick as he crumpled to the ground. “Weak,” she whispered, her voice scathing and her face marred by an emotionless frown. Zitao only grimaced in reply, beads of sweat glistening against his skin as he felt blood slowly seeping through his tattered shirt. Unsatisfied with his response, the woman kicked him again, the sharp point of her boot digging into the sensitive skin of Zitao’s stomach and knocking the air from his lungs.
The young boy broke into a coughing fit, a mix of blood and saliva spitting from his mouth as his hands scraped helplessly at the dirt floor beneath him.
Zitao whimpered through his tears, any remaining pride gone from his fragile form as he clutched his arms tight against his small chest. “Please...” The trainer raised her arm again, but as Zitao squeezed his eyes shut in dread, the lash never came.
“Stop.”
Kevin grabbed at the woman’s wrist, his eyes glinting dangerously as he pulled her away from a trembling Zitao. The trainer quickly wrenched herself from the other boy’s grasp, her voice shrill as she slapped him heavily across the face.
“Trying to protect your friend?” she snarled, turning her whip on Kevin instead. The boy yelped, cowering as she lashed at him again and again, her voice rising an octave as she broke deep cuts into his flesh. “You’re no better than he is, and remember it well, you little shit.”
The woman continued her attack, and Zitao could only watch with blurry vision as Kevin fell to the ground as well.
-
“Who do you think they are, Kevin?”
“Who?”
“The higher ups.”
“Don’t be stupid, there’s no way you could find them.”
“Maybe I don’t have to find them.”
-
Zitao was thirteen the night he left S.M. Circus, bearing three years worth of scars on his back. He picked his way gently through the dry forest leaves, marveling at the crisp air that freshened his lungs and eased his mind as flames crackled and soared from the wreckage behind him.
His tunic was painted a crimson red, splattered with the blood of others and smeared with ashes from the fire. With hair matted in clumps and crusted red stains drying against his skin, Zitao played idly with a grey beret in one hand, his other clutching a silver pistol.
The moon was bright and full, and the young boy gave a small smile to the light that filtered down on him through the trees. “It was too hard to figure out who the leaders were,” he told the moon, grinning serenely as he basked in the midnight glow. “So I just got rid of everyone. It’s easier that way, right?”
He expected Kevin to come running out of the flames to join him, but the other never appeared.
-
There are silent tears trailing down Kris’ face, and he falls back against a tree as Zitao advances towards him, an eerie smile still present on his face. “I assumed you were dead,” he repeats, his eyes glittering dangerously. “You’re personality is so different now, Kevin. I barely recognized you.”
Kris gapes at him, his eyes wide with both recognition and horror. “You...” he whispers into the cold air, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “It was you?”
“I did it for you, Kevin. I promised you I’d get rid of the higher ups.”
“You killed everyone, Zitao, I-” Kris takes a shuddering breath. “You almost killed me.”
Zitao frowns at him. “That was not my intention. I thought the fire had taken you.”
“I... escaped with the lion cubs, but-” He pulls himself back up to full height, his face contorted in a mix of suffering and hatred.
“Zitao, you took away everyone I cared about, including yourself.” His voice is quiet and anguished. “I lost everyone that night, and yet... you came back and... and killed my friends a second time.” He makes to raise a hand, almost as if to strike, but his arm shakes and falters and he lowers it once more.
“I tried to build a new family, to forget the past, and you’ve... you’ve taken that all away.” With tears now streaming down his face, Kris wipes at his cheeks angrily.
“I can’t forgive that, Zitao.”
Zitao’s grin only wavers a little as he reaches down and pulls out a narrow silver knife from his boot, one of Kyungsoo’s old ones. “That’s too bad,” he says, his eyes narrowed calmly and his mouth stretched wide as he presses the blade to Kris’ throat. “I was the only family you needed, don’t you see?”
Kris stares back at him, his face calm and resigned, his mouth twitching into a tortured grin. “That’s not what family does.”
Zitao smiles and digs the knife deep into Kris’ jugular.
“I did it for you, Kevin.”
-
There’s a deafening roar, startling the audience as lights flood the stage. A tall, ferocious-looking man takes center stage, his hands gently pressed against the backs of two huge lions, their golden coats shimmering as the two felines scrutinize the surrounding crowd of people.
Suho waves gallantly at the crowd, his cheery red coat and small stature dwarfed beside the lion tamer’s presence. “The final act, everyone! Please, welcome Kris, our lion tamer. With his command, he has established control over some of the fiercest animals known to man.” He gives a flourishing bow and exits the ring.
Kris waves once to the audience, giving a small smile before focusing on setting up three large hoops, positioned one on top of the next. The lions observe carefully from the side, watching as their master steps back behind the hoops. He gives a sharp command, and the male lion steps forward, his long mane rippling in waves as he pads up to the lowest hoop. With another call from Kris, the lion jumps through the ring, landing daintily on the ground with a soft thud of his paws, padding forwards to meet Kris on the other side. The lion tamer gives the cat a gentle pat on the head and turns, calling out to the second lion.
This one, a large female, moves forward, her paces speeding up slightly as she launches herself through the middle hoop, flying through the air and landing just a little behind where Kris stands with the first lion. The crowd cheers with delight, and Kris smiles and ruffles the feline’s ears.
With another call to the two cats, Kris walks around to the other side of the hoops, leading the female with him while the male lion stands still in obedience. Once the lions are facing opposite each other, the man pulls back, standing to the side as the lions swivel their eyes after his footsteps, waiting.
Kris gives another command, and the lions back up slowly, their eyes still focused in on their master’s movements, ears perked for the sound of his voice.
The lion tamer raises one arm in front of him, shouting a last call to the animals, and both lions rush towards the hoops at once. With a powerful leap, the male lion soars through the top hoop, limbs stretched and muscles rippling as the female lion leaps gracefully through the hoop just below at the same time. The audience bursts into applause as the lions land delicately on the ground once more, immediately padding up to Kris and nuzzling into his sides as he bows to the audience. The crowd gasps in awe as the larger lion suddenly lets out an ear-splitting roar, and Kris just laughs, not the least bit fazed by the lion’s enthusiasm as he carefully leads the two cats out of the ring.
-
Zitao raises the knife against the moonlight, squinting at it through tears he didn’t realize he had shed. Kris’ body sags against the tree, and Zitao watches the light glint against his blade, tainted by the drips of crimson that trail down from the tip.
Gingerly, he straightens his back and picks his way through the bodies strewn across the ground, gazing thoughtfully at Jongdae’s peaceful expression, his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly, red bruises ringing his neck and blood matted and dried into his hair. He examines Baekhyun’s troubled frown, his eyes still wide with shock and his arms hanging limply from his sides at gruesome angles.
Zitao doesn’t look back at Kris.
“Don’t move!”
Standing still in the midst of the trees, Zitao clearly hears the cock of a pistol from somewhere to his right. Swiveling on the balls of his feet, he finds Junmyeon standing a few meters away, his small form trembling with fear and his hands shaking as he clutches Zitao’s silver pistol between clammy palms. “Don’t move!” he says again, his voice becoming hysterical as he aims the gun directly at Zitao’s heart. “One move and I’ll shoot!”
Zitao gives him a smile. “I knew I had forgotten someone.”
Junmyeon makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his index finger pressing up next to the trigger. Zitao grins wider and puts his hands in the air, mocking the ringmaster with a feigned expression of defeat. Junmyeon glares at him angrily, “I’ll do it, you know, I really will!”
Zitao shakes his head, still smiling. “You’re hesitating, Junmyeon.”
Junmyeon gives him a furious look, biting his lip as he tries to keep the gun steady. “Zitao, why-” his voice catches in his throat, and he swallows painfully. “Why did you do it?”
Zitao leers at him. “I had to, don’t you see? I tried to stay low, to bury my past, but-” He tilts his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Yixing knew too much. And Jongin, he saw too much, and said too much; Kyungsoo listened too carefully.”
“Chanyeol seemed too liable to believe to Jongdae’s words, and Minseok? He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Zitao snorts dryly, his lips quirking at the edges.
“Stop-” Junmyeon blurts out, his voice raw and his eyes wet. He raises the gun warningly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Don’t-”
But Zitao continues, his grin growing wider, crueler. “It’s like a game, don’t you think? If I had let Luhan and Sehun get away, who knows what they could have told others?”
Junmyeon whimpers, his fingers fidgeting as the gun grows slippery in his hand. “Please...” he whispers, but his broken plea is ignored.
“Jongdae knew it was me, but he had no proof, no leverage. Everyone suspected him, after all.” Zitao says, his eyes bright. He cocks his head to one side, his smile stretching tight against his cheeks as he bores his eyes deep into Junmyeon’s. “Except you, hm? So trustworthy, you are. I ought to thank you, really. Without your loyalty, they might have suspected me earlier.”
A dry sob racks the ringmaster’s body and his legs give way, the gun slipping from his grasp as he folds over on his knees. “Zitao-” he rasps, his eyes filled with terror as he gives the younger boy a desperate look. “I can’t-”
Zitao picks up the pistol delicately in one hand and presses the gun tip against Junmyeon’s temple.
“Thanks for taking me in, Junmyeon. It was fun, while it lasted.”
-
Suho returns to the center of the ring once more as the applause slowly dies down.The spotlight focuses in on the young ringmaster’s blaring red coat, the golden trim glittering around the edges, and his smile is bright and bold as he tips his crimson top-hat to the crowd, giving them a dazzling show of teeth.
“It’s been an enjoyable evening, my friends. The show is at last drawing to a close, but it is my wish that what you have seen here today will live on in your memories for a lifetime.” The man raises his baton once into the air, catching it with the other hand and giving a swooping bow.
As he rise back to his full height, Suho grins mysteriously, the shadows of the tent casting patterns against his face, hiding in the creases and folds of his suit. He returns his hat to his head with a delicate sweep of his fingers, the brim tilting precariously as he addresses the audience one more time with a little tug at the corners of his mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen... boys and girls.”
“Thank you for joining us.”
With his last words echoing through the tent, darkness falls and Suho slips away, exiting the ring.
-
“You want to join our Troupe?” The ringmaster, an odd-looking fellow who introduces himself as Onew, frowns uncertainly at the young man before him. “Do you even know how to perform?”
Zitao nods shyly, twirling a battered, crimson top hat in his hands. “I’ve had some experience.”
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV
A/N: hi i hope this wasn't too long don't hurt me thanks for reading sobs