WDKMS II: Chapter 4
(A/N: It's here! Wow, this chapter took a while. Sorry. University life is hectic. :D)
Chapter 4
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“…we really don’t know what’s going on…security has been tightened…”
Wooyoung heard only the tail end of the director’s comment as he and Nichkhun rounded a corner and came into view. Nichkhun had headed to the director’s office upon arrival and Wooyoung had not followed. He’d still been too angry about the assassination attempt on Nichkhun’s life. How could Nichkhun not have told him about the plan?
The ride to the museum gallery had been made in silence, and Wooyoung almost felt guilty. Nichkhun had practically pouted-as much as a mafia boss could pout-and fiddled with his cellphone to keep himself busy. Wooyoung had merely stared out the tinted window and fumed.
Nichkhun glanced over at Wooyoung as they stepped into the hallway before he turned his attention back to the director. His gaze was serious, and it was such an odd thing to see. Nichkhun didn’t look like he should ever be serious.
But Wooyoung knew how dangerous he could be.
He remembered the high school graduation trip to Thailand. He didn’t think it was something he could ever forget.
“I hope that this issue is resolved before the gala.” Nichkhun answered crisply, glancing at his watch. “I don’t tolerate repeated mistakes. Once is more than enough to lose my trust” and my funding “do you understand?”
The Director swallowed. He knew fully well what Nichkhun was capable of. It wasn’t a secret that Nichkhun’s company had dealt with less than savory items and that they had the ability to…dispose of those that angered them. He did not wish to become one of those people. “We’ve heightened security and spoken with everyone that was present at the time of the theft. No one saw anything.”
“And the CCTV?”
“The paintings were all in secluded corners of the museum. The CCTV didn’t record anything nearby.”
Well, what was the point of CCTV, then? Wooyoung didn’t know when he’d walked over to the two, but he found himself at Nichkhun’s elbow when he asked, “Have you checked the cameras for the people who came in and out of the museum around the time of the burglary?”
Both Nichkhun and the director turned to him. Nichkhun gave a faint smile before turning back to the director, “Well?”
“We…didn’t find anything...out of the ordinary…” The director blinked, trying to come up with something coherent.
“I see.” Nichkhun fixed the cufflink on his right wrist. “I have another appointment, if you will excuse me…” Nichkhun began walking toward the front of the building, Wooyoung following. Nichkhun walked past the elevator and opted for the steps, taking them two at a time.
“What other appointment?” Wooyoung questioned, “I don’t have anything on the schedule.” Was this something else he’d kept from him?
“Something just came up.” Nichkhun muttered, as he headed toward the door, he knocked into a security guard. The man toppled to the ground and Nichkhun didn’t look back as he headed out the door.
Wooyoung blinked. That wasn’t like him. Nichkhun usually would have stopped to help the man up. Wooyoung turned to do just that, but the guard had already stood and shuffled past him down the hallway.
Wooyoung hurried out the door. With the weird, unpredictable mood Nichkhun was in, it wouldn’t surprise Wooyoung if he left him there if he took too long inside.
He slipped into the back seat to see Nichkhun brooding over his cellphone. He glanced up when Wooyoung entered and Wooyoung frowned. Nichkhun looked normal again, his usual carefree self. And Wooyoung was reminded that he was still angry at him.
“Wooyoung.”
No. He wasn’t going to talk to him. Wooyoung closed the door and began buckling his seatbelt.
“Wooyoung-ah.” Nichkhun slung an arm around his shoulder and leaned in so that their faces were touching. “Don’t be mad. I promise I’ll tell you in the future.”
It was really, really hard to stay mad at him. Wooyoung shot him a sideways glance, “What was that about in there? What was with the mood swing?”
Nichkhun ignored him quite spectacularly. He gave a bright smile, “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s head home. I have a date tonight with the CEO of GongBang’s daughter.” Nichkhun cupped his hands in front of his chest, “They’re this big.”
Wooyoung grabbed his ipad and smacked Nichkhun over the head with it, ignoring the murderous glare from his bodyguard. Nichkhun gave a sly grin as the car started and they pulled out onto the street. Wooyoung watched him out of the corner of his eye as Nichkhun turned to look out the window at the city lights.
His reflection’s smile dropped instantly, becoming a cold, implacable visage that Wooyoung had seen only once.
He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
---
“The paper is due Thursday, right?”
“No. Next Monday. You weren’t paying attention.”
Amber scoffed, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “I don’t need to pay attention. That’s what you’re for.” She turned to her twin just in time to see Chiao roll her eyes. “When’s your violin exam?”
Chiao was silent for a moment as she thought about it, “Two weeks.” She answered back, “Tuesday, I think. Either Tuesday or Thursday. We’ll be picked randomly to perform on those two days, so I don’t know which.”
Amber nodded, hopping down from the sidewalk to the curb as they turned down the street toward their home. It was less populated, so she didn’t worry about a car getting too close on the street. Chiao opted to keep to the sidewalk nonetheless, a bit more cautious than her twin.
“Are we going to the mall this weekend-” Amber was cut off by Chiao grabbing the edge of her hoodie and tugging.
“Look.”
Amber peered out from under her bleached bangs to where Chiao indicated. She froze. A man was standing on the sidewalk in front of a gate, looking from a piece of paper in his hands to the address number.
Amber’s hands trembled.
That was Henry’s old house.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Chiao’s smile had disappeared, and she gripped her violin case tightly.
“Let’s get closer.” Amber hopped onto the sidewalk and pulled her sister along. Chiao looked like she wanted to protest-they’d be seen immediately, there wasn’t anywhere to hide-but she followed anyway.
Amber ducked behind a parked car-probably the man’s-and Chiao crouched beside her. She looked through the car windows at the man’s back. He was tall. 6 foot at least. “What’s he doing?” She whispered.
“Shhh!” Amber pressed a finger to her lips and ducked to make sure the man didn’t see her. The two sat there, waiting, as the man’s cellphone rang and he picked it up.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got here a few minutes ago.” The man muttered, “It’s the right address, right? 397?” The person on the other end spoke and then the man continued, “Well it seems weird. No one is here…but don’t you think it’s weird that the wife and daughter just up and left? I mean, the son is still missing, so why’d they decide to move back to Canada?”
Chiao and Amber exchanged glances. The man was talking about Henry! What the hell was going on?
“The caller definitely said that the Lau family was connected to the attack somehow.”
What…was he talking about? Attack? Attack on what? How was Henry’s family involved? Who was this man? Amber made to stand, but Chiao grabbed her back and shook her head frantically. They couldn’t get involved. The guy could be dangerous. Amber swallowed.
“I’m going to check the house out. Maybe there’s some clue inside. A warrant? Ah…” The man paused. “Alright, I’ll head back.”
Chiao grabbed Amber and dragged her around the car and onto the sidewalk as the man turned toward the car. He blinked, turning toward them as he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. He was younger than Amber had thought he’d be. He didn’t pay them much more attention as he got into his vehicle.
The two stood on the sidewalk in front of Henry’s house and watched the car drive off.
“…what was that about?” Chiao asked hoarsely.
“He isn’t dead.”
“What?”
Amber stared after the car. “You heard it yourself. Henry isn’t dead.”
“The guy never said that.” Chiao argued back, shaking her head. “He just said he was missing.” That was what everyone said, although they’d all accepted that he was probably dead by this point. Everyone except for Amber.
“He isn’t dead.” She repeated firmly. Her eyes lit up, “He said there might be a clue inside. Come on.” She headed toward the gate.
“Hey!” Chiao called out, but Amber was already climbing over the gate.
Chiao watched her, before she gave a sigh and hefted herself up onto the wall.
---
A shadow fell over his desk and Taemin glanced up just as Minho lowered himself down into the chair beside his. Taemin blinked.
The girl who usually sat beside him-Kim Dae Ho, she was the one that would pass him all the hateful notes from the others with a sneer-walked into the room and noticed that her seat had been taken. She held her book to her chest and gave a small bow and a shy smile. “Um, excuse me that’s…”
“Can I sit here? I can see the board better than in the back of the class.” Minho smiled gently at the girl. Taemin watched her flush and mumble out some kind of agreement as she nodded and hurried over to Minho’s old seat in the back of the class.
The girls around her began talking in hushed voices with one another.
Taemin swallowed. Minho was supposed to ignore him. Why had he sat down beside him? What was he doing? Didn’t he understand that if he talked to him he’d get hurt too? And Taemin didn’t need his pity! That’s probably what it was…pity. “Why?” He ground out, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I want to be your friend.” Minho replied earnestly.
“Why?” Taemin finally looked at him. Minho smiled easily. He looked like the type of person that didn’t have any worries in the world. Someone who made friends easily. Someone that everyone liked. It made Taemin sick. He was still embarrassed about Minho coming to his rescue before. And people like Minho, people who made it look so easy, they just pissed him off.
“Can’t I be your friend?” Minho asked, perfectly shaped brows furrowed in confusion.
“Now why would you do that?”
Taemin flinched at the voice and hurriedly looked down at his desk.
“Taemin has plenty of friends.” Byung Sang’s hand came down on Taemin’s shoulder and gripped him painfully. Taemin tried to hide his shaking. “He doesn’t need any more.”
“He can have as many friends as he wants.” Minho stated pleasantly. His voice hadn’t changed from its easygoing tone.
“No, he can’t.” Byung Sang’s voice wasn’t friendly at all. “I just said that he doesn’t need any more.”
“I think,” Minho continued calmly, “That he does.”
Taemin glanced over at Minho and swallowed. No. This was so embarrassing. Who the hell did Minho think he was? Taemin didn’t need him to defend him! Everyone was staring. Taemin felt his stomach lurch.
He wrestled out of Byung Sang’s grip and darted to the door. He was going to throw up. He was going to throw up.
He crashed into the professor as he ran down the hall. “Sorry,” He half-mumbled, half-gasped, as he continued toward the bathroom.
He’d never been so embarrassed in his entire life.
Minho watched Taemin run out and he slowly stood.
“See?” Byung Sang gave a short, mocking guffaw. “Who’d want to be his friend anyway? It’s best if you leave him alone-” Minho’s hand darted out faster than Byung Sang could see and he found himself pulled across Taemin’s desk, face to face with a Minho who was no longer smiling.
Byung Sang didn’t know what it was, but Minho’s face didn’t seem real at that moment, as he looked into his eyes and Minho spoke in a cool, even tone. “If you touch him again, I will break your leg the same way I broke your friend’s nose. Do you understand?”
“What’s going on?”
The entire class turned to where the professor stood, looking between Minho and Byung Sang.
“He tripped,” Minho supplied with a kind smile. “Are you alright, Byung Sang-ah?”
“Y-yeah.” Byung Sang swallowed, pale. “I’m fine.”
Minho’s smile stretched.
---
It was evaluation time again.
Evaluations happened every month, and he’d gotten so used to them that it had become part of his everyday schedule. Junsu woke up that morning, glanced at the small tableside calendar near the vase of daffodils-fake, they weren’t in season and these lasted so much longer-and saw the date circled in red and thought, ah, is it that time already?
Evaluations had become as routine as taking his medication.
And so here he was, sprawled out on the settee in Dr. Kim’s office. He’d thought it was utterly stereotypical the first time he’d stepped through the doors: the easy chair, the couch for him to lie on and tell all of his problems to his psychologist. Landscape pictures hung on the walls, beaches and mountains and deserts. An aquarium sat in a far corner, and the bubbling of the oxygen system was a study background thrum.
He’d kept track of the fish over the years. Dr. Kim was quite fond of Killifish. There were at least types swimming in the tank now, along with a few bottom-feeders that Junsu couldn’t name and a lonely looking Angelfish that always seemed to be hiding behind the pirate skull in the far left corner.
The door opened and Junsu didn’t look up. He heard the door close with a soft click, and Dr. Kim’s steady footsteps. He turned his head slightly to see Dr. Kim settle down into the chair a few feet away with a pleasant smile and a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Junsu-ssi.”
“Good morning.” It was 12:05, no longer morning, but he didn’t feel like correcting him. Dr. Kim glanced down at a file he’d brought with him, balanced precariously on his crossed knees. “So the medication has been working?”
Junsu shrugged. It was hard to lie to Dr. Kim. Impossible, in fact. Dr. Kim always knew when he was lying.
“I can’t help you if you don’t let me, Junsu-ssi.”
He’d said that line before. Too many times. Junsu shifted on the settee, irritated. He wasn’t trying to be difficult. The voices never went away because he wasn’t crazy. He wanted help. He wanted out of his place more than anything. Eleven years. He’d been here for eleven years. If he hadn’t been crazy before, this place was certainly making him insane. He just wanted to leave.
“When was the first time you began hearing voices?”
The same questions. The answers were automatic now. “I was twelve.” Why did they have to go through this? Nothing changed. His answers didn’t change. Dr. Kim’s reactions to his answers didn’t change.
“And what had happened right before that?” Dr. Kim took a sip of his coffee. Junsu was thirsty.
“I had been sick. My parents sent me to live with my grandparents in the mountains. The air was better.” They thought it was GAM. They thought the government would come and kill me. They wanted me as far away from Seoul as possible. They sent me away to live or die in peace, whichever happened first.
“And then?”
“I woke up.” He whispered, staring up at the spackled ceiling, tracing designs with his eyes. I woke up and my parents were dead. I’d been asleep for five days. My parents died in a car crash coming up the mountain to come see me before I passed away. But you know all of this. Why are you bringing it up again?
“Guilt.” Dr. Kim nodded. “Do you feel guilty for their deaths?”
“Yes.” Of course he felt guilty. His parents had been coming to see him and had died. Who wouldn’t blame themselves for that? If only he’d been healthier. If only they hadn’t sent him up there to live in the first place…
“And after that, that was when the voices started?”
“Three weeks afterwards.” He remembered the day exactly. He’d gone down with his grandmother to the small corner store in town. It was the only house with a telephone for miles. It had been a constant buzzing, and he couldn’t understand why no one else heard the voices. He’d told his grandmother and she’d told him to shut up and never talk about it again.
His grandparents were convinced that something had gone wrong with him during his illness. That the fever had scrambled his brain. They tried to hide it, until people in town began gossiping about the boy who heard voices.
Then the doctor had come to evaluate him. Dr. Jang. That doctor didn’t work here anymore. He’d retired five years ago, leaving Junsu under the sole care of Dr. Kim.
“We’ve talked about this before…” Yes. Every month they talked about it. “But perhaps you’d like to tell me what the voices tell you?”
“They don’t talk to me directly.” You already knew that. “They just talk.” For some reason, he didn’t like telling anyone else about it. Not because he thought people would say he was crazy-they already did-but because those voices weren’t meant for them to hear. Junsu wasn’t even supposed to hear them, and he didn’t feel right telling those conversations to others.
“Why don’t you tell me about your favorite voice?”
Once. Once he’d made the mistake of mentioning that there was a voice he liked to listen to. Someone whose “frequency” calmed him. “I haven’t heard it lately.”
A lie. He’d heard the voice just that morning. “I can’t choose which voices I hear.” The truth. It was like tuning into a radio. Sometimes the station was cut off. It would sputter and die and he’d lose it and he might not get it back for days.
Dr. Kim gave a small sigh. “You have to explain these things to me in more detail or I can’t help.”
He didn’t want his help. He just wanted to leave. “I’m not feeling well.” Junsu mumbled, eyes still trained on the ceiling. “I want to go back.”
Dr. Kim sighed again, louder, frustrated. “Very well.”
---
He was going to be late for work.
Key cursed under his breath, pulling his jacket tighter around him. It had gotten chilly around three in the afternoon and the weather had only declined since. He’d gotten out of class to dark clouds and a sharp wind that told him rain was on its way.
Dammit.
He rubbed his arms as he stopped at the crosswalk, feet hanging off the edge of the curb. The light flashed, and he hopped off onto the street. He was halfway across when he heard a yelp. It was a dog, and it continued barking as he tried to find the source of the noise.
There.
A man had fallen to the ground-shoved, most likely, from the way a man further ahead on the street was walking-and he was trying to grab for his dog and a walking stick that had fallen a few feet to his left.
Key crossed the street and walked over to him, glaring at the people that walked past and pretended like they hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t they take five seconds out of their schedule to help someone? He knelt down, “You ok? Here, let me help.”
“Thanks.” The blind man gave a shaky laugh as Key helped him to his feet. He placed the walking stick firmly in the man’s right hand and the harness of his seeing-eye dog in his right. “Will you be alright now?” A nod.
Key patted the dog on the head before continuing on his way, feeling accomplished. As he continued down the street he paused. That…couldn’t be right. He backpedaled and looked into the window that he’d just walked past.
It couldn’t be. Taemin…surely that couldn’t be Taemin. And who was the tall, handsome boy?
They were sitting in a booth inside of the small café. Taemin looked nervous, but not scared. He was answering the other boy’s questions. The other boy was laughing, and Taemin gave a small smile in return.
A friend. A friend? Was it a friend? Key pursed his lips. He certainly wasn’t an enemy, but what all else the handsome boy entailed was a mystery. He walked toward the entrance but stopped as a wave of dizziness hit him, followed by a small twinge of nausea. Key swallowed, grimacing. A 24-hour stomach virus had been going around campus. He really hoped he hadn’t caught it.
Ah, it didn’t matter. He’d get something at the pharmacy after work to settle his stomach. He had a test tomorrow. And this...Taemin's new situation, was much more important than a stomach bug.
Key grabbed his phone and began texting even as he walked off toward the bus stop. “Taeminnie, tomorrow I’m coming to your house and you’re telling me all about your new FRIEND. -_^”
He waited at the bus stop with considerably higher spirits than he’d started out with that morning.
---
---> Chapter 5
Chapter 4
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“…we really don’t know what’s going on…security has been tightened…”
Wooyoung heard only the tail end of the director’s comment as he and Nichkhun rounded a corner and came into view. Nichkhun had headed to the director’s office upon arrival and Wooyoung had not followed. He’d still been too angry about the assassination attempt on Nichkhun’s life. How could Nichkhun not have told him about the plan?
The ride to the museum gallery had been made in silence, and Wooyoung almost felt guilty. Nichkhun had practically pouted-as much as a mafia boss could pout-and fiddled with his cellphone to keep himself busy. Wooyoung had merely stared out the tinted window and fumed.
Nichkhun glanced over at Wooyoung as they stepped into the hallway before he turned his attention back to the director. His gaze was serious, and it was such an odd thing to see. Nichkhun didn’t look like he should ever be serious.
But Wooyoung knew how dangerous he could be.
He remembered the high school graduation trip to Thailand. He didn’t think it was something he could ever forget.
“I hope that this issue is resolved before the gala.” Nichkhun answered crisply, glancing at his watch. “I don’t tolerate repeated mistakes. Once is more than enough to lose my trust” and my funding “do you understand?”
The Director swallowed. He knew fully well what Nichkhun was capable of. It wasn’t a secret that Nichkhun’s company had dealt with less than savory items and that they had the ability to…dispose of those that angered them. He did not wish to become one of those people. “We’ve heightened security and spoken with everyone that was present at the time of the theft. No one saw anything.”
“And the CCTV?”
“The paintings were all in secluded corners of the museum. The CCTV didn’t record anything nearby.”
Well, what was the point of CCTV, then? Wooyoung didn’t know when he’d walked over to the two, but he found himself at Nichkhun’s elbow when he asked, “Have you checked the cameras for the people who came in and out of the museum around the time of the burglary?”
Both Nichkhun and the director turned to him. Nichkhun gave a faint smile before turning back to the director, “Well?”
“We…didn’t find anything...out of the ordinary…” The director blinked, trying to come up with something coherent.
“I see.” Nichkhun fixed the cufflink on his right wrist. “I have another appointment, if you will excuse me…” Nichkhun began walking toward the front of the building, Wooyoung following. Nichkhun walked past the elevator and opted for the steps, taking them two at a time.
“What other appointment?” Wooyoung questioned, “I don’t have anything on the schedule.” Was this something else he’d kept from him?
“Something just came up.” Nichkhun muttered, as he headed toward the door, he knocked into a security guard. The man toppled to the ground and Nichkhun didn’t look back as he headed out the door.
Wooyoung blinked. That wasn’t like him. Nichkhun usually would have stopped to help the man up. Wooyoung turned to do just that, but the guard had already stood and shuffled past him down the hallway.
Wooyoung hurried out the door. With the weird, unpredictable mood Nichkhun was in, it wouldn’t surprise Wooyoung if he left him there if he took too long inside.
He slipped into the back seat to see Nichkhun brooding over his cellphone. He glanced up when Wooyoung entered and Wooyoung frowned. Nichkhun looked normal again, his usual carefree self. And Wooyoung was reminded that he was still angry at him.
“Wooyoung.”
No. He wasn’t going to talk to him. Wooyoung closed the door and began buckling his seatbelt.
“Wooyoung-ah.” Nichkhun slung an arm around his shoulder and leaned in so that their faces were touching. “Don’t be mad. I promise I’ll tell you in the future.”
It was really, really hard to stay mad at him. Wooyoung shot him a sideways glance, “What was that about in there? What was with the mood swing?”
Nichkhun ignored him quite spectacularly. He gave a bright smile, “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s head home. I have a date tonight with the CEO of GongBang’s daughter.” Nichkhun cupped his hands in front of his chest, “They’re this big.”
Wooyoung grabbed his ipad and smacked Nichkhun over the head with it, ignoring the murderous glare from his bodyguard. Nichkhun gave a sly grin as the car started and they pulled out onto the street. Wooyoung watched him out of the corner of his eye as Nichkhun turned to look out the window at the city lights.
His reflection’s smile dropped instantly, becoming a cold, implacable visage that Wooyoung had seen only once.
He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
---
“The paper is due Thursday, right?”
“No. Next Monday. You weren’t paying attention.”
Amber scoffed, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “I don’t need to pay attention. That’s what you’re for.” She turned to her twin just in time to see Chiao roll her eyes. “When’s your violin exam?”
Chiao was silent for a moment as she thought about it, “Two weeks.” She answered back, “Tuesday, I think. Either Tuesday or Thursday. We’ll be picked randomly to perform on those two days, so I don’t know which.”
Amber nodded, hopping down from the sidewalk to the curb as they turned down the street toward their home. It was less populated, so she didn’t worry about a car getting too close on the street. Chiao opted to keep to the sidewalk nonetheless, a bit more cautious than her twin.
“Are we going to the mall this weekend-” Amber was cut off by Chiao grabbing the edge of her hoodie and tugging.
“Look.”
Amber peered out from under her bleached bangs to where Chiao indicated. She froze. A man was standing on the sidewalk in front of a gate, looking from a piece of paper in his hands to the address number.
Amber’s hands trembled.
That was Henry’s old house.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Chiao’s smile had disappeared, and she gripped her violin case tightly.
“Let’s get closer.” Amber hopped onto the sidewalk and pulled her sister along. Chiao looked like she wanted to protest-they’d be seen immediately, there wasn’t anywhere to hide-but she followed anyway.
Amber ducked behind a parked car-probably the man’s-and Chiao crouched beside her. She looked through the car windows at the man’s back. He was tall. 6 foot at least. “What’s he doing?” She whispered.
“Shhh!” Amber pressed a finger to her lips and ducked to make sure the man didn’t see her. The two sat there, waiting, as the man’s cellphone rang and he picked it up.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got here a few minutes ago.” The man muttered, “It’s the right address, right? 397?” The person on the other end spoke and then the man continued, “Well it seems weird. No one is here…but don’t you think it’s weird that the wife and daughter just up and left? I mean, the son is still missing, so why’d they decide to move back to Canada?”
Chiao and Amber exchanged glances. The man was talking about Henry! What the hell was going on?
“The caller definitely said that the Lau family was connected to the attack somehow.”
What…was he talking about? Attack? Attack on what? How was Henry’s family involved? Who was this man? Amber made to stand, but Chiao grabbed her back and shook her head frantically. They couldn’t get involved. The guy could be dangerous. Amber swallowed.
“I’m going to check the house out. Maybe there’s some clue inside. A warrant? Ah…” The man paused. “Alright, I’ll head back.”
Chiao grabbed Amber and dragged her around the car and onto the sidewalk as the man turned toward the car. He blinked, turning toward them as he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. He was younger than Amber had thought he’d be. He didn’t pay them much more attention as he got into his vehicle.
The two stood on the sidewalk in front of Henry’s house and watched the car drive off.
“…what was that about?” Chiao asked hoarsely.
“He isn’t dead.”
“What?”
Amber stared after the car. “You heard it yourself. Henry isn’t dead.”
“The guy never said that.” Chiao argued back, shaking her head. “He just said he was missing.” That was what everyone said, although they’d all accepted that he was probably dead by this point. Everyone except for Amber.
“He isn’t dead.” She repeated firmly. Her eyes lit up, “He said there might be a clue inside. Come on.” She headed toward the gate.
“Hey!” Chiao called out, but Amber was already climbing over the gate.
Chiao watched her, before she gave a sigh and hefted herself up onto the wall.
---
A shadow fell over his desk and Taemin glanced up just as Minho lowered himself down into the chair beside his. Taemin blinked.
The girl who usually sat beside him-Kim Dae Ho, she was the one that would pass him all the hateful notes from the others with a sneer-walked into the room and noticed that her seat had been taken. She held her book to her chest and gave a small bow and a shy smile. “Um, excuse me that’s…”
“Can I sit here? I can see the board better than in the back of the class.” Minho smiled gently at the girl. Taemin watched her flush and mumble out some kind of agreement as she nodded and hurried over to Minho’s old seat in the back of the class.
The girls around her began talking in hushed voices with one another.
Taemin swallowed. Minho was supposed to ignore him. Why had he sat down beside him? What was he doing? Didn’t he understand that if he talked to him he’d get hurt too? And Taemin didn’t need his pity! That’s probably what it was…pity. “Why?” He ground out, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I want to be your friend.” Minho replied earnestly.
“Why?” Taemin finally looked at him. Minho smiled easily. He looked like the type of person that didn’t have any worries in the world. Someone who made friends easily. Someone that everyone liked. It made Taemin sick. He was still embarrassed about Minho coming to his rescue before. And people like Minho, people who made it look so easy, they just pissed him off.
“Can’t I be your friend?” Minho asked, perfectly shaped brows furrowed in confusion.
“Now why would you do that?”
Taemin flinched at the voice and hurriedly looked down at his desk.
“Taemin has plenty of friends.” Byung Sang’s hand came down on Taemin’s shoulder and gripped him painfully. Taemin tried to hide his shaking. “He doesn’t need any more.”
“He can have as many friends as he wants.” Minho stated pleasantly. His voice hadn’t changed from its easygoing tone.
“No, he can’t.” Byung Sang’s voice wasn’t friendly at all. “I just said that he doesn’t need any more.”
“I think,” Minho continued calmly, “That he does.”
Taemin glanced over at Minho and swallowed. No. This was so embarrassing. Who the hell did Minho think he was? Taemin didn’t need him to defend him! Everyone was staring. Taemin felt his stomach lurch.
He wrestled out of Byung Sang’s grip and darted to the door. He was going to throw up. He was going to throw up.
He crashed into the professor as he ran down the hall. “Sorry,” He half-mumbled, half-gasped, as he continued toward the bathroom.
He’d never been so embarrassed in his entire life.
Minho watched Taemin run out and he slowly stood.
“See?” Byung Sang gave a short, mocking guffaw. “Who’d want to be his friend anyway? It’s best if you leave him alone-” Minho’s hand darted out faster than Byung Sang could see and he found himself pulled across Taemin’s desk, face to face with a Minho who was no longer smiling.
Byung Sang didn’t know what it was, but Minho’s face didn’t seem real at that moment, as he looked into his eyes and Minho spoke in a cool, even tone. “If you touch him again, I will break your leg the same way I broke your friend’s nose. Do you understand?”
“What’s going on?”
The entire class turned to where the professor stood, looking between Minho and Byung Sang.
“He tripped,” Minho supplied with a kind smile. “Are you alright, Byung Sang-ah?”
“Y-yeah.” Byung Sang swallowed, pale. “I’m fine.”
Minho’s smile stretched.
---
It was evaluation time again.
Evaluations happened every month, and he’d gotten so used to them that it had become part of his everyday schedule. Junsu woke up that morning, glanced at the small tableside calendar near the vase of daffodils-fake, they weren’t in season and these lasted so much longer-and saw the date circled in red and thought, ah, is it that time already?
Evaluations had become as routine as taking his medication.
And so here he was, sprawled out on the settee in Dr. Kim’s office. He’d thought it was utterly stereotypical the first time he’d stepped through the doors: the easy chair, the couch for him to lie on and tell all of his problems to his psychologist. Landscape pictures hung on the walls, beaches and mountains and deserts. An aquarium sat in a far corner, and the bubbling of the oxygen system was a study background thrum.
He’d kept track of the fish over the years. Dr. Kim was quite fond of Killifish. There were at least types swimming in the tank now, along with a few bottom-feeders that Junsu couldn’t name and a lonely looking Angelfish that always seemed to be hiding behind the pirate skull in the far left corner.
The door opened and Junsu didn’t look up. He heard the door close with a soft click, and Dr. Kim’s steady footsteps. He turned his head slightly to see Dr. Kim settle down into the chair a few feet away with a pleasant smile and a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Junsu-ssi.”
“Good morning.” It was 12:05, no longer morning, but he didn’t feel like correcting him. Dr. Kim glanced down at a file he’d brought with him, balanced precariously on his crossed knees. “So the medication has been working?”
Junsu shrugged. It was hard to lie to Dr. Kim. Impossible, in fact. Dr. Kim always knew when he was lying.
“I can’t help you if you don’t let me, Junsu-ssi.”
He’d said that line before. Too many times. Junsu shifted on the settee, irritated. He wasn’t trying to be difficult. The voices never went away because he wasn’t crazy. He wanted help. He wanted out of his place more than anything. Eleven years. He’d been here for eleven years. If he hadn’t been crazy before, this place was certainly making him insane. He just wanted to leave.
“When was the first time you began hearing voices?”
The same questions. The answers were automatic now. “I was twelve.” Why did they have to go through this? Nothing changed. His answers didn’t change. Dr. Kim’s reactions to his answers didn’t change.
“And what had happened right before that?” Dr. Kim took a sip of his coffee. Junsu was thirsty.
“I had been sick. My parents sent me to live with my grandparents in the mountains. The air was better.” They thought it was GAM. They thought the government would come and kill me. They wanted me as far away from Seoul as possible. They sent me away to live or die in peace, whichever happened first.
“And then?”
“I woke up.” He whispered, staring up at the spackled ceiling, tracing designs with his eyes. I woke up and my parents were dead. I’d been asleep for five days. My parents died in a car crash coming up the mountain to come see me before I passed away. But you know all of this. Why are you bringing it up again?
“Guilt.” Dr. Kim nodded. “Do you feel guilty for their deaths?”
“Yes.” Of course he felt guilty. His parents had been coming to see him and had died. Who wouldn’t blame themselves for that? If only he’d been healthier. If only they hadn’t sent him up there to live in the first place…
“And after that, that was when the voices started?”
“Three weeks afterwards.” He remembered the day exactly. He’d gone down with his grandmother to the small corner store in town. It was the only house with a telephone for miles. It had been a constant buzzing, and he couldn’t understand why no one else heard the voices. He’d told his grandmother and she’d told him to shut up and never talk about it again.
His grandparents were convinced that something had gone wrong with him during his illness. That the fever had scrambled his brain. They tried to hide it, until people in town began gossiping about the boy who heard voices.
Then the doctor had come to evaluate him. Dr. Jang. That doctor didn’t work here anymore. He’d retired five years ago, leaving Junsu under the sole care of Dr. Kim.
“We’ve talked about this before…” Yes. Every month they talked about it. “But perhaps you’d like to tell me what the voices tell you?”
“They don’t talk to me directly.” You already knew that. “They just talk.” For some reason, he didn’t like telling anyone else about it. Not because he thought people would say he was crazy-they already did-but because those voices weren’t meant for them to hear. Junsu wasn’t even supposed to hear them, and he didn’t feel right telling those conversations to others.
“Why don’t you tell me about your favorite voice?”
Once. Once he’d made the mistake of mentioning that there was a voice he liked to listen to. Someone whose “frequency” calmed him. “I haven’t heard it lately.”
A lie. He’d heard the voice just that morning. “I can’t choose which voices I hear.” The truth. It was like tuning into a radio. Sometimes the station was cut off. It would sputter and die and he’d lose it and he might not get it back for days.
Dr. Kim gave a small sigh. “You have to explain these things to me in more detail or I can’t help.”
He didn’t want his help. He just wanted to leave. “I’m not feeling well.” Junsu mumbled, eyes still trained on the ceiling. “I want to go back.”
Dr. Kim sighed again, louder, frustrated. “Very well.”
---
He was going to be late for work.
Key cursed under his breath, pulling his jacket tighter around him. It had gotten chilly around three in the afternoon and the weather had only declined since. He’d gotten out of class to dark clouds and a sharp wind that told him rain was on its way.
Dammit.
He rubbed his arms as he stopped at the crosswalk, feet hanging off the edge of the curb. The light flashed, and he hopped off onto the street. He was halfway across when he heard a yelp. It was a dog, and it continued barking as he tried to find the source of the noise.
There.
A man had fallen to the ground-shoved, most likely, from the way a man further ahead on the street was walking-and he was trying to grab for his dog and a walking stick that had fallen a few feet to his left.
Key crossed the street and walked over to him, glaring at the people that walked past and pretended like they hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t they take five seconds out of their schedule to help someone? He knelt down, “You ok? Here, let me help.”
“Thanks.” The blind man gave a shaky laugh as Key helped him to his feet. He placed the walking stick firmly in the man’s right hand and the harness of his seeing-eye dog in his right. “Will you be alright now?” A nod.
Key patted the dog on the head before continuing on his way, feeling accomplished. As he continued down the street he paused. That…couldn’t be right. He backpedaled and looked into the window that he’d just walked past.
It couldn’t be. Taemin…surely that couldn’t be Taemin. And who was the tall, handsome boy?
They were sitting in a booth inside of the small café. Taemin looked nervous, but not scared. He was answering the other boy’s questions. The other boy was laughing, and Taemin gave a small smile in return.
A friend. A friend? Was it a friend? Key pursed his lips. He certainly wasn’t an enemy, but what all else the handsome boy entailed was a mystery. He walked toward the entrance but stopped as a wave of dizziness hit him, followed by a small twinge of nausea. Key swallowed, grimacing. A 24-hour stomach virus had been going around campus. He really hoped he hadn’t caught it.
Ah, it didn’t matter. He’d get something at the pharmacy after work to settle his stomach. He had a test tomorrow. And this...Taemin's new situation, was much more important than a stomach bug.
Key grabbed his phone and began texting even as he walked off toward the bus stop. “Taeminnie, tomorrow I’m coming to your house and you’re telling me all about your new FRIEND. -_^”
He waited at the bus stop with considerably higher spirits than he’d started out with that morning.
---
---> Chapter 5