More of your children dead tomorrow [One-shot]
Title: More of your children dead tomorrow
Pairing: Chanyeol/Tao, Chanyeol/Baekhyun, Tao/Kris
Rating: R
Genre: Psychological, Dark, Angst, AU
Warning: Non-consent, torture, disturbing images, mild paedophilia
Summary: Tao wakes up to find himself bound, facing nightmare and pain at the hands of a madman. A madman, who for all intent, will kill him. Unless...
[A/N: Originally called 'Break those bones whose sinews gave it motion', I decided to change the name because the quote was more about revenge and there isn't much of revenge in it. Instead, the new title comes from a quote by a convicted murderer called Ted Bundy. What he said was "We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow."]
~*~
The room was plunged in darkness, save for a single lightbulb that swayed ever so lightly once in a while - as if it was so weary. Weary of fighting against the shadows that surrounded it, circling, waiting to pounce, to extinguish that last stronghold so that the madness that called in it could take reign. And there was much madness in this darkness. So much, it seeped into your pores and down into your soul where it festered and broiled.
There was a chair in the middle of the room, under the swaying light, like a bad cliché. And a person tied to it, in bonds that were bound to hurt. A person drugged, from the way he slouched, muscles not supporting, straining against the ropes, the skin underneath burning away an angry red that would have woken anyone except in aided slumber.
And in the shadows, there was someone - of course there was someone, because the shadows were always there to conceal - walking. Step, by step, by step, by step.
Waiting. Three guesses for what.
Each step is measured. Like a teaspoon of patience. All dripping away, spoonful, by spoonful.
The someone in the shadows has never been too good at the patience thing. Especially if his prey was right in front of him. Not that he couldn’t hold himself - no, that he could, otherwise he’d already have been caught. But it built itself up, the madness inside. And the longer he waited, the more it mounted.
And when let go...
The softest of moans. And there is a snap of movement, so sharp in the deafening silence that it could have been a gunshot. But the only other person in the room to hear it had other problems, eyelids slowly fluttering awake, a whimper as the pain from the skin rubbed raw finally pierce through an addled mind.
The words spoken next were probably thought to be a warning - a prelude. But it was no prelude as it was just a muted version of the things to come. That voice, ordinary as it was, calm and neutral, crawled with madness and invisible creatures under the skin. The words were not so much a warning, but a signal for the beginning.
“You’re awake.”
~*~
Fear. Panic. Confusion. Any man would never admit himself to feeling these few feelings - putting up fake bravado, even in the face of pure danger. And it always amused him as it did now. The man - no - the boy in front of him was surely terrified. But yet, the way that chin was set - as if he was ready to brave even the depths of hell.
Well then, he couldn’t bear to disappoint could he?
“Huang Zitao.” And he had to hide his smile at the way the boy started. Even in a world that mostly discredited magic and the supernatural, names still had power. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
He stepped into the light, revealing himself to the boy. And he didn’t imagine the boy’s surprise at his appearance. He didn’t look like some hideous fiend from the netherworld after all, only a statuesque figure with handsome features - and it wasn’t because he was being egotistical. Those were words whispered about him by his female colleagues at his very proper, upright white- collared job. Of course, those colleagues didn’t know what he did after hours.
“W-what…” The boy began to speak, bewilderment stuttering his words. “Who…? Who are you? Where am I?”
“You’re at my place.” He shrugged, beginning to circle. “As for who I am, I’m sure you’ve seen me a couple of time here and there. At your workplace. My boss had quite the fun with you.”
The boy’s eyes stared, then sharpened in recognition. “You… you’re that guy… the one that came with the big group a week then a few days ago. Park… Park… Chanyeol…?”
A delighted laugh, eyes wrinkling - which would have made many a woman swoon - for they wouldn’t have heard the despair behind the action. “Hah! You remembered? How sweet of you. I can count the amount of times an exotic dancer has remembered my face.”
“What is this? You wanted a private session?” The boy tilted his head, gesturing at the ropes that bound him. “I can’t dance if my limbs are bound.”
“Who said I wanted you to dance?” Was his reply.
It took several moments for the implications of the sentence, the way it was said, the tonality it was set, to sink in. And those few moments were all it took for Chanyeol to cross the distance from far to uncomfortably close.
Zitao’s eyes widened as one of Chanyeol’s hands held the front of his pants in a painfully crushing grip. And his mouth opened to protest only to have the man’s free hand grip his jaw, keeping it open, allowing only choked sounds of mute pain to escape. Tao’s eyes were beginning to water from the pain and he looked up, the plea clear in his eyes.
But there is no mercy in the depths that stare back at him. They might be as serene as buddha’s, but it was only a farce, a deceit. And now, that deceit cracked as Chanyeol leaned in close, taking Zitao’s lips in his own - but not in a kiss, but a claim. And the boy’s lips were red and bruised by the time Chanyeol let up, his fingers twisting cruelly on Zitao’s chin and somewhere far more sensitive. Too fast and vicious for Zitao to do anything but gasp choked protests.
And it’s not like Chanyeol was doing anything all that much. Rather, he had the relaxed stance of a predator surveying a prey he knew he had already caught. “Hmm… I really am going to enjoy this.”
“No…” Zitao choked out, shaking, hands pulling uselessly at his bonds as Chanyeol unbuckled the belt and pulled down his pants. “No… please… No! No! NO!”
The screams that come from Zitao’s mouth are as rough as the way Chanyeol took.
And took. And took. And took.
~*~
Zitao’s voice was cracked - hoarse from the screaming and crying and pleading. He looked up, wincing against the light of the bulb before they tried to focus on Chanyeol, who was getting up, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants.
“You’re done.” Zitao said with some relief. He’s probably had customers like this before, who couldn’t take no for an answer, and the management was sometimes not as hasty enough to step in right away, especially with an extremely wealthy client. “Please… let me go now… and some… water… my throat…”
Chanyeol inspected Zitao with curiosity in his eyes, as if Zitao was missing something very obvious. “Maybe… water.” Chanyeol finally said, a polite, insincere smile on his face. “When I come back and if you’ve been good.”
“What?” Zitao’s eyes shot up, the panic growing with each step Chanyeol took out of the room, spiking as the door closed. No… what? It wasn’t over?
How long was Chanyeol going to keep him here?
Puzzling that fact, in the darkness, the light above only harsh and unforgiving, Zitao could only look to the floor, the patterns on the ground distracting him. They formed a multi-layered pattern of dark red and brown underneath the fresh blood and cum dripping from his anus. It’s like avant-garde art, only there’s something more sinister and raw to its creation.
It took Zitao three seconds to realize what it was, the patterns telling once you took the care to discern them, the colour the confirmation.
Blood.
And it was too much blood for it to have come from a rough fuck - even a lot of them - and the spray of some of the stains were far too wide…
Zitao began to shake, his eyes widening in realization, to the point in which his irises became pinpricks to the undesired epiphany that befell him.
And that click in his head, ushering in the pure terror of revelation.
Chanyeol hadn’t told him his name, hadn’t shown him his face, hadn’t told him where Zitao was because he was sure that Zitao wouldn’t tell, being on somewhat the shady side of the law.
It was because Chanyeol never intended Zitao to be able to tell anyone, ever again.
~*~
The days dragged on, like a grudging ghost in its chains. And time began to meld together with no indication of day or night. Inside the room, there was only light and darkness and Chanyeol.
At first Zitao screamed. Even if his voice gave way, he still screamed, the cries of his soul echoing in breaths of air, whistling through his raged windpipe and spoke of the unwilling participation and undulated horror of being trapped in such a manner as this.
~*~
Chanyeol admits to Zitao that he never thought he’d bring home a guy. He’s been taking girls so far, because it’s just so sweet they way they scream sometime. Something about the way a female’s larynx is built that makes the sounds that they make so satisfying. But he’d watch Zitao work his magic, and he had been tempted that night. The way Zitao had snapped his hips the minute he strutted onto that walkway, his eyes framed by glitter and eyeliner, lips curved into an incubus’ smile.
Something had drawn Chanyeol to Zitao - an instinct. And who was Chanyeol to deny instinct? He stalked Zitao, observing from the shadows - his schedule, his habits. He found that Zitao liked to walk home after hours, sticking to mostly brightly lit walkways, except for one section of back-alley. A shortcut from walking an extra two more roads.
It had been more than enough for Chanyeol to snatch Zitao off the streets without any of those pesky security cameras catching. Smelling the chloroform off Zitao’s slack body, the scents mixing, Chanyeol had already guessed that Zitao would be so much fun to play with.
~*~
And then, Chanyeol got tired of just plain old fucking and the torture devices came out to play.
“I like to start with the most classic.” Chanyeol said as he admired the slim black long leather cord in his hand, designed to lash out like the femme fatale she was. He dropped his hand, letting her uncoil, hitting the ground - the sound gave him pleasant goosebumps, a look of bliss overcoming him, shivering.
There was the sound of flesh breaking open - a wet, sloppy sound along with the thunderous crack of pure speed whistling through the air, so far, you could hear the sound of molecules the splitting open.
Zitao screamed.
~*~
“The girl before you died pretty fast.” Chanyeol shares, his hands roaming painfully up Zitao’s form, scraping all the wounds while the boy gurgles in pain, his head tossing to the side as he winces. “I didn’t even get to the torturing stage and she was already totally gone. Her eyes totally blank - like a doll.”
Zitao jerks, the chair creaking in protest, when the fingers of Chanyeol’s hand press into his thigh, the sheer strength of the grip sinking relatively blunt nails deep into the flesh. “And I didn’t even kill her! She just died from losing the will to live! Ridiculous don’t you think?”
~*~
Zitao wished it was only physical torture, but Chanyeol had more party tricks than a seasoned magician. And the current one, wrapped tight around Zitao’s cock was Chanyeol’s favourite, especially now, Zitao’s body had become seasoned with the need to come - like a dog and the whistle, coming for his food when called. Or in Zitao’s case, just coming.
Chanyeol’s laughter, as he saw literal sparks jumping out of Zitao’s skin as he dry humped, was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard.
~*~
”The one before the one who died easily was like you. Had a lot of spirit.” Chanyeol drags a nail across Zitao’s chest, watching the boy squirm in protest. “But she liked to scream a lot.”
“She screamed when I fucked her. She screamed when I tortured her. She screamed even when I wasn’t even in the room.” Chanyeol grins, looking as if it was a fond memory. But as fast as that gentle look comes, it goes, replaced by a sinister smile that could curdle even the staunchest soul. His hands grab Zitao’s mouth, forcing it open, bringing tears to the boy’s eyes. “She screamed… until I reached inside her mouth and tore her voicebox right out.”
~*~
Blood dripped on the ground, the sound constant like a faulty tap, staccatoed with Zitao’s uneven breaths as he struggled to get his lungs to inflate and deflate properly, his rib-cage becoming more like its namesake with Chanyeol’s careless modifications to it with that club of his the night before.
Chanyeol came in, closing the door behind him. He put the briefcase down and loosened his tie. He looked every bit the tired husband coming home from work.
“I’m home~” He half sang as he moved forward, leaning close, tongue lapping off the blood on Zitao’s cheek, dripping down from the wound on his head.
~*~
“And the one before that, had such pretty fingers.” Chanyeol purrs, picking up Zitao’s hand in his own, the boy watching him nervously. “She was a pianist I think. They were her pride and joy…”
“Then… I did this…”
CRACK!
“Oh dear.” Chanyeol tsked, frowning at the way Zitao’s arm hung limp at this side, the boy whimpering in pure pain. From the way his eyes glazed, the light in them flickering, it wasn’t too soon before he would lose consciousness. “I misjudged my own strength.”
Then he shrugged, continuing to rock against Zitao’s broken body, grinning at the way, his broken arm swung around in odd angles like some kind of plush toy.
“I love taking away people’s pride, and their joy.”
~*~
What pride and what joy? Those words were foreign to Zitao now. Even survival was becoming a distant figment of his imagination. He was just waiting. Waiting for Chanyeol to get bored of him.
“And the one before that was only five.”
“Sicko.” The word slips out before Zitao could stop it. And Chanyeol laughs, clearly delighted at the accusation.”
“S-stop… Please…”
Zitao still pleaded, but more and more they were beginning to sound like forces of habit and less like pleas.
“Yes, I am. Glad you’ve finally realized that.” Chanyeol licks his lips. “Still, on principle I should be offended.”
Something rock-hard, pulsing and disgusting at the edge of his abused hole yet again. And no matter how many times it’d already been done, Zitao could never get used to it - the feeling of being torn open from the inside. “ARG- NO! STOP!”
“I’ll punish you. Just like I did that little 5 year old girl for wetting her panties. On principle.”
Blood dripped down his wrists, his ankles, skin rubbed raw, the ropes now rubbing into muscle, sores and infestation. The fever had already begun to grip Zitao.
“And the one before that was pretty famous. I got front page for that.”
Fucking, fucking. Non-stop fucking.
“I did only fucking at first. I began to gather my collection of tools from there, and it became so much fun. But yes… even then, it was so fun…”
The worst part was that Zitao sometimes felt pleasure from it - on days after Chanyeol actually let him rest for a bit so that he could feel, rather than drown in a sea of pain. The boiling deep within him was disgusting and he hated himself every time he came, stars exploding behind his eyes.
“I called her a slut for enjoying it so much, but she didn’t even know what a slut was. Kindergarten education is really lacking nowadays huh?”
He asked once, he thought. That question.
Why.
Or more than once, perhaps. He couldn’t remember. He only remember it was in vain.
He’d never gotten a straight answer before.
“I shot her and dumped the body! The police and press were all over it!”
“You’ll never get away with this…”
A wet smack, Zitao’s head flew to the side so hard, the chair would have toppled over if Chanyeol wasn’t bracing it.
“The police came and all, couldn’t find anything. Investigation opened before it had to be closed due to lack of evidence. Hah. Idiots, the lot of them.”
“Seems like you haven’t been listening.”
Chanyeol’s smile in the darkness reminded Zitao of the Cheshire cat’s sometimes. Only, Zitao knows that the smile has no ambivalence - there is only hurt there.
A knife, pressed into his skin, leaving marks - thin lines of red, like cuts in bags of strawberry jam. The sear of the knife is hot and although thin and small, the sheer amount drained him - more than he was beginning to think that he could take.
“Stop…”
“Want to know what happened to the little girl in the end?”
“Please… stop…”
“I stuck this knife right into her little hole and began to move it around. There was this… wet tearing sound…”
“Stop it!”
“And I jiggled it around a bit more, and it went up, up, up! Up through her navel, through her chest, through all the way to the top! It was so fun~ Like dissecting a frog!”
“STOP IT!”
“Ahahahahahahahaha!”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Zitao screamed.
~*~
The gun is cold as it’s pressed against his temple, a counterpoint to the hot tears that are rolling down his cheeks.
“Please… please…” He begs, to no avail. The eyes above have no mercy. None at all.
“You’re such a slut aren’t you?” He whimpers at the voice in his ear and the unjust accusation. The cold of the gun trails down, rubbing his nipples, making him shiver in both sinful pleasure and revulsion. “You’re responding to this so, so well…”
His eyes widen, more tears spilling when the gun reaches his ass, the cold hard tip pressed at his entrance. “Let’s have a little fun shall we then, little slut?”
He stiffens at the sound of the safety being released, his heart beginning to race faster than it had ever had in his life before. “Don’t jerk around too much.” The voice next to his ear warns gleefully. “Or else you may hit my arm, and my finger might just squeeze the trigger.”
He tries to control his body, fighting to keep the spasms down even as pain wrecks his body, the barrel of the gun making its way in non-so-gently, and then out, and then in again, until a rough, unforgiving rhythm is formed.
He came undone far too soon. It is a combination of the pain, the fear of death, and the way the tip of the gun barrel had pushed too far, jamming itself into that spot of his.
There would be punishment later.
~*~
“Right… you don’t own a gun. So that memory was an old one, from long past.”
Chanyeol frowned, the sudden clarity of Zitao’s voice unable to register itself as possible in his mind. “What?”
“I hate it when that happens. As if not enough shit is happening to me already.” Zitao looked up, the pain in his eyes gone, and only a cold, calm calculating remained. “But anyway, you’ve already confessed to all 5 of the murders, so I guess my job is done.”
Chanyeol pushed himself off Zitao, his instincts suddenly screaming at him. This wasn’t right - the way Zitao was looking at him, as if he didn’t care if his body was broken. “What the shit?”
“Is right. Because I just realized there’s one more unaccounted for.” Zitao bit his lip. “One that’s different from all the rest. But… I think I’ve figured it out.”
Chanyeol stared at Zitao as if it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes upon him. And Zitao looked up then, his lips curling a little at the expression on Chanyeol’s face. It was like looking at a rat cornered by a very smart and clever cat. “Who are you?!”
“Oh right. Introductions.” Zitao sighed, and he groaned, his limbs pulling at the ropes, gasping a little once they snapped from the force he exerted. Chanyeol let out a hiss of surprise - it wasn’t as if those ropes were weak - he had only replaced them yesterday. “I need to make those since your information is more than a little backdated. Anyway, my name’s Tao. Just Tao. And I work for the police under the unique forces department.”
Zitao, or rather, Tao stood, rubbing his wrists absently, seemingly unaware of the way the blood smeared on his fingers messily. “So anyway. The case had 5 girls missing. And you accounted five girls you tortured then killed. The first one you just fucked and then shot. The second one a five year old girl you tore apart with the knife. The third you broke her fingers. The fourth you tore her voice-box out. And the fifth died from… probably fear rather than a loss of will to live.”
Tao rubbed his chin. “Mmm… but! There was one more case I remember. Not a girl. A guy. All the higher-ups don’t believe my gut-feeling when I say that that case is connected to this one… but… I think you know as well as me that it’s definitely connected. In fact, I’d say it’s the reason why all the other cases happened… but… you’ve forgotten it haven’t you? Or rather, you’ve forced yourself to forget.”
Chanyeol backed away, his eyes wide and bewildered. “Y-you… what the fuck are you?”
The smile on Tao’s face was telling - for it was nearly an exact copy of Chanyeol’s when they’d first met inside this room - with Tao tied on the chair and Chanyeol so sure of his victory. Not so sure now. He found that he couldn’t move, frozen to the spot by the look in Tao’s eyes as he stepped forward confidently, even with the awkward angle his foot is in. “Why… I’m a trump card against people like you, Chanyeol. Even with all your methods, even with how many times you defile my body or break my flesh or smash my bones, I will always come up on top.”
“Because…” Tao breathed against Chanyeol’s jaw, his voice sweet with the confirmation of triumph. “…You can’t break something that’s already been broken, can you?”
Something in Chanyeol crumbled, and he finally gained the strength to push Tao away. Tao laughed at the vain effort, shaking his head. “Oh, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol. It’s too late. You have to remember. Byun Baekhyun? I’m sure the name is familiar to you?”
It was. Too familiar a name. A name Chanyeol didn’t want to remember. And he screamed, clutching as his head as he tried to shove it away, his feet stumbling, trying to run away from the monstrosity that was Tao.
“Hmm… man… I’ve read so many cases, I think I can tell you how this one turned out.” Tao’s voice is like an unwanted cold, following him even as he runs through the house, stumbling up the stairs. “Baekhyun was your lover wasn’t he? But like all relationships, something went wrong.”
“NO! SHUT UP!”
“What went wrong, Chanyeol?” Tao dodges the vase Chanyeol throws at him, ignoring the way the porcelain shards cut his feet. “Wait. Let me guess. You’re a sicko through and through aren’t you? Even before this whole fiasco. You just hid it better. But it had a habit of showing up during sex huh? You wanted to do some strange things that Baekhyun-ah was uncomfortable with.”
“No! That’s not true!” And the look on Chanyeol’s face was now far from confident. He looked like a child being bullied, tears threatening to fall from his quivering brown eyes. “Shut up!”
“At first it was just fights and stuff. Then… Baekhyun probably had enough. He tried to leave didn’t he?”
“No… no… Baekhyun wouldn’t leave me! He wouldn’t!” The look in Chanyeol’s eyes wasn’t all there and Tao smirked. Things were working the way he’d planned.
“Of course he did, Chanyeol. He gave you the ultimatum. A - stop pestering him for things he didn’t like, or B - he would leave. But you chose option C, didn’t you?”
“No… I…”
“You killed him.”
“NO!”
Chanyeol made one last lurch away from Tao, crying out when he found himself trapped in a room. Eyes wild, he tried to push past the boy, only to find himself overpowered, thrown back down onto the floor, then against a wall.
A wall that was evidently only wood and plaster, and it caved with the weight forced against it.
“Ah.” Tao closed his eyes in understanding as the dust cleared, revealing the skeleton that had been hidden. “I see… so this is where you hid him after you killed him. Actually, from the state of his clothes. You probably had your way with his corpse first, the madness finally taking over. And then...”
Chanyeol coughed, picking himself up from the rubble before freezing when he saw the dusty bones laid out beside him. His fingers closed around a piece of metal - a locket, silver from the way it had turned black. He would know that locket anywhere - he’d given it to the person it had belonged to after all.
His fingers were soft, trembling as they reach to stroke what remains of a jaw bone. And Chanyeol whispers in a soft voice - a voice that he hadn’t used since that night. “Baekhyun?”
~*~
“Baekhyun?”
Chanyeol whispers, his eyes wide with as he realizes the body in his arms, defiled and cold, is his boyfriend’s. He shakes as he takes in the torn clothes, the bruises, the marks - everything that he’s ever wanted to done, the evidence clear on his lover’s dead body.
“No… No… It can’t be.” He whispers again, shaking his head. His eyes look up at the wall nearby, noting hollow that had been an architectural flaw in the house. He remembers the wood and plaster that he’d bought - Baekhyun had been nagging at him a while to fix that flaw.
“I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it now, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol lights up, smiling as he placed Baekhyun inside the hollow. He gets the wood and plaster and works like a madman. The plaster sets even before the sun rises, and the workmanship is so good, it looked as if it had always been that way.
“Hahaha.” Chanyeol laughs softly, his eyes not at all quite there. “Oh he’ll be proud of me. So proud of me…”
Then, he looks around, realizing that he’s alone. “He…?” Memories, years and years of memories get buried away - a defense mechanism kicking it, activated by the sheer guilt Chanyeol feels. “Who’s he?”
Patting the plaster wall, Chanyeol only remembers that he must never, ever break it down. “Good good… I think I’ll go have some fun now…”
And then, he laughs.
~*~
Chanyeol laughed for the first time he had in months.
It was like he’s been released from a dark prison, the weight of his memories falling away. The doctor had been right - he didn’t need to feel guilty anymore. And to do that all he had to do was forget.
It was so easy to forget.
“Hehe…” Chanyeol smiles, looking around at the white room he’s in. His arms and legs are bound, put into a straight-jacket as was only natural - but he’d never felt so free in his life before. It was as if his mind had gone utterly blank, and he felt so light…
He was cured.
Excited, he turned towards the door where there was small window to the outside world. And he wanted to go toward it to call for a doctor. But to his surprise, there was someone already there.
A pair of dark eyes of which shadows flitted in their depths where the gleam of madness didn’t shine. And lips that curled, taunting, daring Chanyeol to forget that telltale smirk of triumph.
“No.” Chanyeol backed away, as if that could save him from the eyes in the window. “I’m cured… please… No…”
He didn’t remember that person. Not that person whom he’d caught - no, he’d been step up. By the police.
The victim who wasn’t a victim. The one who couldn’t be broken because he’d already been long before.
Tao.
Tao.
“GRAGH!”Chanyeol clutched his head, whimpering as the memories flood back, the weight and guilt of his sins spiraling, forming that sick, black pit in the middle of his heart. “Baekhyun… no… no… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Outside, Tao watched with satisfaction as Chanyeol screamed, looking very much like a cat that had caught his mouse.
“That was pretty mean of you, Tao.”
“Oh… it’s you Kris.” Tao sighed, turning away from the window to face the elder boy. “And my dear handler, I wasn’t being mean. That guy was being an idiot and tried to erase all his memories again. That would have been dangerous, I mean, he’d probably have accosted the next doctor that came in. Trust me, I should know. I’m crazy too, remember?”
Kris rolled his eyes, pushing Tao’s face away when it loomed close. “Yes, I remember. Which is why, knowing crazy you, you probably did it for fun rather than for that fancy reason you concocted.”
“Yeah well. You’ll never really know.” Tao shrugged before grinning. “So, you probably came from those snobbish old men. What do they want to nag about this time.”
“Our superiors,” Kris stressed on the word. “Want to warn you to be more careful with your body next time. It took you several months for you to heal from the damage, and in that time, several cases could have had been solved with your expertise. Plus, the bills were really exorbitant this time.”
Tao snorted. “Well, next time, they can try getting tortured by a psycho and see whether it’s easy to lure the psycho into complacency without getting at least a few broken ribs.”
“Yah.” Kris grabbed Tao’s arm, and for a moment, Tao was a little thrilled and awed by the fact that his handler actually had to guts to stare him in the eye the way he did, let alone touch him. “I want you to take care of yourself better too. Not because of medical fees or next mission or whatever, but because you always take too much on yourself, damnit. Next time, if it gets as bad as this time, pull out!”
“And you’ll come to my rescue, right? My brave and honourable handler.” Tao patted Kris on the back. “Seriously though. Compared to some of the other cases, this was not-”
“That’s not what I meant, Tao.”
Tao’s eyes narrow and he glared at Kris. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s every bit my business. I’m your handler Tao. I’m supposed to protect you - even if it’s from yourself. And if your mental stability fails… damnit Tao, I don’t want to put you down. Not when there’s fucking chance to save you.”
“I seriously doubt doddling Dr. Kyungsoo and his colouring exercises will help.” Tao scoffed, taking a step to walk off, only to get stopped by a firm hand.
“You’re supposed to tell me about it. Get it off your chest.”
With anyone else, Tao would probably have driven a pencil into his hand. But… Kris… was Kris, and as annoying as the handler was, Tao had to say that this guy… was different. Kris actually cared for him - the crazy cuckoo that was a ticking time-bomb experiment on legs. And Tao would never admit it to Kris, but… Kris was the only one Tao trusted, even in that twisted mind of his.
“It really was nothing.” Tao scratched his head, leaning against the wall. “It was a repeat memory. The one where the bastard fucked me with a gun. Nothing new. I’ve told you about it already.”
Kris paused for a second, looking Tao’s face carefully, as if trying to discern any lie. Finally he said. “Yeah. I remember that one.”
There was always that awkward silence after a conversation like that. And Tao let it hang for a bit before finally saying. “Well. I did Dr. Kyungsoo’s stupid exercise. Do I get my reward?”
“…Fine. You get your cake.”
“Cake?” Tao looked scandalized. “I was talking about you taking me to the Gucci sale downtown!”
“… In your dreams, Tao.”
“I do go for Gucci shopping in my dreams. But it’s not as satisfying as buying the actual thing.”
“Just… choose a flavor and place you want me to get your cake from.”
“Because seriously, after this mission, you have the nerve to ask tired out me to actually do the stupid exercise thing. I think I deserve at least one Gucci bag.”
“Tao…”
“Fine. A purse.”
“Tao…”
“Argh! Fine...” Tao’s pout disappeared as he happily canted. “Strawberry shortcake from TWG!”
“…”
“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that Kris, one day your eyes will pop up and really roll. And when that happens, I’m not picking them up and rolling them back to you.”
~*~
Pairing: Chanyeol/Tao, Chanyeol/Baekhyun, Tao/Kris
Rating: R
Genre: Psychological, Dark, Angst, AU
Warning: Non-consent, torture, disturbing images, mild paedophilia
Summary: Tao wakes up to find himself bound, facing nightmare and pain at the hands of a madman. A madman, who for all intent, will kill him. Unless...
[A/N: Originally called 'Break those bones whose sinews gave it motion', I decided to change the name because the quote was more about revenge and there isn't much of revenge in it. Instead, the new title comes from a quote by a convicted murderer called Ted Bundy. What he said was "We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow."]
~*~
The room was plunged in darkness, save for a single lightbulb that swayed ever so lightly once in a while - as if it was so weary. Weary of fighting against the shadows that surrounded it, circling, waiting to pounce, to extinguish that last stronghold so that the madness that called in it could take reign. And there was much madness in this darkness. So much, it seeped into your pores and down into your soul where it festered and broiled.
There was a chair in the middle of the room, under the swaying light, like a bad cliché. And a person tied to it, in bonds that were bound to hurt. A person drugged, from the way he slouched, muscles not supporting, straining against the ropes, the skin underneath burning away an angry red that would have woken anyone except in aided slumber.
And in the shadows, there was someone - of course there was someone, because the shadows were always there to conceal - walking. Step, by step, by step, by step.
Waiting. Three guesses for what.
Each step is measured. Like a teaspoon of patience. All dripping away, spoonful, by spoonful.
The someone in the shadows has never been too good at the patience thing. Especially if his prey was right in front of him. Not that he couldn’t hold himself - no, that he could, otherwise he’d already have been caught. But it built itself up, the madness inside. And the longer he waited, the more it mounted.
And when let go...
The softest of moans. And there is a snap of movement, so sharp in the deafening silence that it could have been a gunshot. But the only other person in the room to hear it had other problems, eyelids slowly fluttering awake, a whimper as the pain from the skin rubbed raw finally pierce through an addled mind.
The words spoken next were probably thought to be a warning - a prelude. But it was no prelude as it was just a muted version of the things to come. That voice, ordinary as it was, calm and neutral, crawled with madness and invisible creatures under the skin. The words were not so much a warning, but a signal for the beginning.
“You’re awake.”
~*~
Fear. Panic. Confusion. Any man would never admit himself to feeling these few feelings - putting up fake bravado, even in the face of pure danger. And it always amused him as it did now. The man - no - the boy in front of him was surely terrified. But yet, the way that chin was set - as if he was ready to brave even the depths of hell.
Well then, he couldn’t bear to disappoint could he?
“Huang Zitao.” And he had to hide his smile at the way the boy started. Even in a world that mostly discredited magic and the supernatural, names still had power. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
He stepped into the light, revealing himself to the boy. And he didn’t imagine the boy’s surprise at his appearance. He didn’t look like some hideous fiend from the netherworld after all, only a statuesque figure with handsome features - and it wasn’t because he was being egotistical. Those were words whispered about him by his female colleagues at his very proper, upright white- collared job. Of course, those colleagues didn’t know what he did after hours.
“W-what…” The boy began to speak, bewilderment stuttering his words. “Who…? Who are you? Where am I?”
“You’re at my place.” He shrugged, beginning to circle. “As for who I am, I’m sure you’ve seen me a couple of time here and there. At your workplace. My boss had quite the fun with you.”
The boy’s eyes stared, then sharpened in recognition. “You… you’re that guy… the one that came with the big group a week then a few days ago. Park… Park… Chanyeol…?”
A delighted laugh, eyes wrinkling - which would have made many a woman swoon - for they wouldn’t have heard the despair behind the action. “Hah! You remembered? How sweet of you. I can count the amount of times an exotic dancer has remembered my face.”
“What is this? You wanted a private session?” The boy tilted his head, gesturing at the ropes that bound him. “I can’t dance if my limbs are bound.”
“Who said I wanted you to dance?” Was his reply.
It took several moments for the implications of the sentence, the way it was said, the tonality it was set, to sink in. And those few moments were all it took for Chanyeol to cross the distance from far to uncomfortably close.
Zitao’s eyes widened as one of Chanyeol’s hands held the front of his pants in a painfully crushing grip. And his mouth opened to protest only to have the man’s free hand grip his jaw, keeping it open, allowing only choked sounds of mute pain to escape. Tao’s eyes were beginning to water from the pain and he looked up, the plea clear in his eyes.
But there is no mercy in the depths that stare back at him. They might be as serene as buddha’s, but it was only a farce, a deceit. And now, that deceit cracked as Chanyeol leaned in close, taking Zitao’s lips in his own - but not in a kiss, but a claim. And the boy’s lips were red and bruised by the time Chanyeol let up, his fingers twisting cruelly on Zitao’s chin and somewhere far more sensitive. Too fast and vicious for Zitao to do anything but gasp choked protests.
And it’s not like Chanyeol was doing anything all that much. Rather, he had the relaxed stance of a predator surveying a prey he knew he had already caught. “Hmm… I really am going to enjoy this.”
“No…” Zitao choked out, shaking, hands pulling uselessly at his bonds as Chanyeol unbuckled the belt and pulled down his pants. “No… please… No! No! NO!”
The screams that come from Zitao’s mouth are as rough as the way Chanyeol took.
And took. And took. And took.
~*~
Zitao’s voice was cracked - hoarse from the screaming and crying and pleading. He looked up, wincing against the light of the bulb before they tried to focus on Chanyeol, who was getting up, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants.
“You’re done.” Zitao said with some relief. He’s probably had customers like this before, who couldn’t take no for an answer, and the management was sometimes not as hasty enough to step in right away, especially with an extremely wealthy client. “Please… let me go now… and some… water… my throat…”
Chanyeol inspected Zitao with curiosity in his eyes, as if Zitao was missing something very obvious. “Maybe… water.” Chanyeol finally said, a polite, insincere smile on his face. “When I come back and if you’ve been good.”
“What?” Zitao’s eyes shot up, the panic growing with each step Chanyeol took out of the room, spiking as the door closed. No… what? It wasn’t over?
How long was Chanyeol going to keep him here?
Puzzling that fact, in the darkness, the light above only harsh and unforgiving, Zitao could only look to the floor, the patterns on the ground distracting him. They formed a multi-layered pattern of dark red and brown underneath the fresh blood and cum dripping from his anus. It’s like avant-garde art, only there’s something more sinister and raw to its creation.
It took Zitao three seconds to realize what it was, the patterns telling once you took the care to discern them, the colour the confirmation.
Blood.
And it was too much blood for it to have come from a rough fuck - even a lot of them - and the spray of some of the stains were far too wide…
Zitao began to shake, his eyes widening in realization, to the point in which his irises became pinpricks to the undesired epiphany that befell him.
And that click in his head, ushering in the pure terror of revelation.
Chanyeol hadn’t told him his name, hadn’t shown him his face, hadn’t told him where Zitao was because he was sure that Zitao wouldn’t tell, being on somewhat the shady side of the law.
It was because Chanyeol never intended Zitao to be able to tell anyone, ever again.
~*~
The days dragged on, like a grudging ghost in its chains. And time began to meld together with no indication of day or night. Inside the room, there was only light and darkness and Chanyeol.
At first Zitao screamed. Even if his voice gave way, he still screamed, the cries of his soul echoing in breaths of air, whistling through his raged windpipe and spoke of the unwilling participation and undulated horror of being trapped in such a manner as this.
~*~
Chanyeol admits to Zitao that he never thought he’d bring home a guy. He’s been taking girls so far, because it’s just so sweet they way they scream sometime. Something about the way a female’s larynx is built that makes the sounds that they make so satisfying. But he’d watch Zitao work his magic, and he had been tempted that night. The way Zitao had snapped his hips the minute he strutted onto that walkway, his eyes framed by glitter and eyeliner, lips curved into an incubus’ smile.
Something had drawn Chanyeol to Zitao - an instinct. And who was Chanyeol to deny instinct? He stalked Zitao, observing from the shadows - his schedule, his habits. He found that Zitao liked to walk home after hours, sticking to mostly brightly lit walkways, except for one section of back-alley. A shortcut from walking an extra two more roads.
It had been more than enough for Chanyeol to snatch Zitao off the streets without any of those pesky security cameras catching. Smelling the chloroform off Zitao’s slack body, the scents mixing, Chanyeol had already guessed that Zitao would be so much fun to play with.
~*~
And then, Chanyeol got tired of just plain old fucking and the torture devices came out to play.
“I like to start with the most classic.” Chanyeol said as he admired the slim black long leather cord in his hand, designed to lash out like the femme fatale she was. He dropped his hand, letting her uncoil, hitting the ground - the sound gave him pleasant goosebumps, a look of bliss overcoming him, shivering.
There was the sound of flesh breaking open - a wet, sloppy sound along with the thunderous crack of pure speed whistling through the air, so far, you could hear the sound of molecules the splitting open.
Zitao screamed.
~*~
“The girl before you died pretty fast.” Chanyeol shares, his hands roaming painfully up Zitao’s form, scraping all the wounds while the boy gurgles in pain, his head tossing to the side as he winces. “I didn’t even get to the torturing stage and she was already totally gone. Her eyes totally blank - like a doll.”
Zitao jerks, the chair creaking in protest, when the fingers of Chanyeol’s hand press into his thigh, the sheer strength of the grip sinking relatively blunt nails deep into the flesh. “And I didn’t even kill her! She just died from losing the will to live! Ridiculous don’t you think?”
~*~
Zitao wished it was only physical torture, but Chanyeol had more party tricks than a seasoned magician. And the current one, wrapped tight around Zitao’s cock was Chanyeol’s favourite, especially now, Zitao’s body had become seasoned with the need to come - like a dog and the whistle, coming for his food when called. Or in Zitao’s case, just coming.
Chanyeol’s laughter, as he saw literal sparks jumping out of Zitao’s skin as he dry humped, was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard.
~*~
”The one before the one who died easily was like you. Had a lot of spirit.” Chanyeol drags a nail across Zitao’s chest, watching the boy squirm in protest. “But she liked to scream a lot.”
“She screamed when I fucked her. She screamed when I tortured her. She screamed even when I wasn’t even in the room.” Chanyeol grins, looking as if it was a fond memory. But as fast as that gentle look comes, it goes, replaced by a sinister smile that could curdle even the staunchest soul. His hands grab Zitao’s mouth, forcing it open, bringing tears to the boy’s eyes. “She screamed… until I reached inside her mouth and tore her voicebox right out.”
~*~
Blood dripped on the ground, the sound constant like a faulty tap, staccatoed with Zitao’s uneven breaths as he struggled to get his lungs to inflate and deflate properly, his rib-cage becoming more like its namesake with Chanyeol’s careless modifications to it with that club of his the night before.
Chanyeol came in, closing the door behind him. He put the briefcase down and loosened his tie. He looked every bit the tired husband coming home from work.
“I’m home~” He half sang as he moved forward, leaning close, tongue lapping off the blood on Zitao’s cheek, dripping down from the wound on his head.
~*~
“And the one before that, had such pretty fingers.” Chanyeol purrs, picking up Zitao’s hand in his own, the boy watching him nervously. “She was a pianist I think. They were her pride and joy…”
“Then… I did this…”
CRACK!
“Oh dear.” Chanyeol tsked, frowning at the way Zitao’s arm hung limp at this side, the boy whimpering in pure pain. From the way his eyes glazed, the light in them flickering, it wasn’t too soon before he would lose consciousness. “I misjudged my own strength.”
Then he shrugged, continuing to rock against Zitao’s broken body, grinning at the way, his broken arm swung around in odd angles like some kind of plush toy.
“I love taking away people’s pride, and their joy.”
~*~
What pride and what joy? Those words were foreign to Zitao now. Even survival was becoming a distant figment of his imagination. He was just waiting. Waiting for Chanyeol to get bored of him.
“And the one before that was only five.”
“Sicko.” The word slips out before Zitao could stop it. And Chanyeol laughs, clearly delighted at the accusation.”
“S-stop… Please…”
Zitao still pleaded, but more and more they were beginning to sound like forces of habit and less like pleas.
“Yes, I am. Glad you’ve finally realized that.” Chanyeol licks his lips. “Still, on principle I should be offended.”
Something rock-hard, pulsing and disgusting at the edge of his abused hole yet again. And no matter how many times it’d already been done, Zitao could never get used to it - the feeling of being torn open from the inside. “ARG- NO! STOP!”
“I’ll punish you. Just like I did that little 5 year old girl for wetting her panties. On principle.”
Blood dripped down his wrists, his ankles, skin rubbed raw, the ropes now rubbing into muscle, sores and infestation. The fever had already begun to grip Zitao.
“And the one before that was pretty famous. I got front page for that.”
Fucking, fucking. Non-stop fucking.
“I did only fucking at first. I began to gather my collection of tools from there, and it became so much fun. But yes… even then, it was so fun…”
The worst part was that Zitao sometimes felt pleasure from it - on days after Chanyeol actually let him rest for a bit so that he could feel, rather than drown in a sea of pain. The boiling deep within him was disgusting and he hated himself every time he came, stars exploding behind his eyes.
“I called her a slut for enjoying it so much, but she didn’t even know what a slut was. Kindergarten education is really lacking nowadays huh?”
He asked once, he thought. That question.
Why.
Or more than once, perhaps. He couldn’t remember. He only remember it was in vain.
He’d never gotten a straight answer before.
“I shot her and dumped the body! The police and press were all over it!”
“You’ll never get away with this…”
A wet smack, Zitao’s head flew to the side so hard, the chair would have toppled over if Chanyeol wasn’t bracing it.
“The police came and all, couldn’t find anything. Investigation opened before it had to be closed due to lack of evidence. Hah. Idiots, the lot of them.”
“Seems like you haven’t been listening.”
Chanyeol’s smile in the darkness reminded Zitao of the Cheshire cat’s sometimes. Only, Zitao knows that the smile has no ambivalence - there is only hurt there.
A knife, pressed into his skin, leaving marks - thin lines of red, like cuts in bags of strawberry jam. The sear of the knife is hot and although thin and small, the sheer amount drained him - more than he was beginning to think that he could take.
“Stop…”
“Want to know what happened to the little girl in the end?”
“Please… stop…”
“I stuck this knife right into her little hole and began to move it around. There was this… wet tearing sound…”
“Stop it!”
“And I jiggled it around a bit more, and it went up, up, up! Up through her navel, through her chest, through all the way to the top! It was so fun~ Like dissecting a frog!”
“STOP IT!”
“Ahahahahahahahaha!”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Zitao screamed.
~*~
The gun is cold as it’s pressed against his temple, a counterpoint to the hot tears that are rolling down his cheeks.
“Please… please…” He begs, to no avail. The eyes above have no mercy. None at all.
“You’re such a slut aren’t you?” He whimpers at the voice in his ear and the unjust accusation. The cold of the gun trails down, rubbing his nipples, making him shiver in both sinful pleasure and revulsion. “You’re responding to this so, so well…”
His eyes widen, more tears spilling when the gun reaches his ass, the cold hard tip pressed at his entrance. “Let’s have a little fun shall we then, little slut?”
He stiffens at the sound of the safety being released, his heart beginning to race faster than it had ever had in his life before. “Don’t jerk around too much.” The voice next to his ear warns gleefully. “Or else you may hit my arm, and my finger might just squeeze the trigger.”
He tries to control his body, fighting to keep the spasms down even as pain wrecks his body, the barrel of the gun making its way in non-so-gently, and then out, and then in again, until a rough, unforgiving rhythm is formed.
He came undone far too soon. It is a combination of the pain, the fear of death, and the way the tip of the gun barrel had pushed too far, jamming itself into that spot of his.
There would be punishment later.
~*~
“Right… you don’t own a gun. So that memory was an old one, from long past.”
Chanyeol frowned, the sudden clarity of Zitao’s voice unable to register itself as possible in his mind. “What?”
“I hate it when that happens. As if not enough shit is happening to me already.” Zitao looked up, the pain in his eyes gone, and only a cold, calm calculating remained. “But anyway, you’ve already confessed to all 5 of the murders, so I guess my job is done.”
Chanyeol pushed himself off Zitao, his instincts suddenly screaming at him. This wasn’t right - the way Zitao was looking at him, as if he didn’t care if his body was broken. “What the shit?”
“Is right. Because I just realized there’s one more unaccounted for.” Zitao bit his lip. “One that’s different from all the rest. But… I think I’ve figured it out.”
Chanyeol stared at Zitao as if it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes upon him. And Zitao looked up then, his lips curling a little at the expression on Chanyeol’s face. It was like looking at a rat cornered by a very smart and clever cat. “Who are you?!”
“Oh right. Introductions.” Zitao sighed, and he groaned, his limbs pulling at the ropes, gasping a little once they snapped from the force he exerted. Chanyeol let out a hiss of surprise - it wasn’t as if those ropes were weak - he had only replaced them yesterday. “I need to make those since your information is more than a little backdated. Anyway, my name’s Tao. Just Tao. And I work for the police under the unique forces department.”
Zitao, or rather, Tao stood, rubbing his wrists absently, seemingly unaware of the way the blood smeared on his fingers messily. “So anyway. The case had 5 girls missing. And you accounted five girls you tortured then killed. The first one you just fucked and then shot. The second one a five year old girl you tore apart with the knife. The third you broke her fingers. The fourth you tore her voice-box out. And the fifth died from… probably fear rather than a loss of will to live.”
Tao rubbed his chin. “Mmm… but! There was one more case I remember. Not a girl. A guy. All the higher-ups don’t believe my gut-feeling when I say that that case is connected to this one… but… I think you know as well as me that it’s definitely connected. In fact, I’d say it’s the reason why all the other cases happened… but… you’ve forgotten it haven’t you? Or rather, you’ve forced yourself to forget.”
Chanyeol backed away, his eyes wide and bewildered. “Y-you… what the fuck are you?”
The smile on Tao’s face was telling - for it was nearly an exact copy of Chanyeol’s when they’d first met inside this room - with Tao tied on the chair and Chanyeol so sure of his victory. Not so sure now. He found that he couldn’t move, frozen to the spot by the look in Tao’s eyes as he stepped forward confidently, even with the awkward angle his foot is in. “Why… I’m a trump card against people like you, Chanyeol. Even with all your methods, even with how many times you defile my body or break my flesh or smash my bones, I will always come up on top.”
“Because…” Tao breathed against Chanyeol’s jaw, his voice sweet with the confirmation of triumph. “…You can’t break something that’s already been broken, can you?”
Something in Chanyeol crumbled, and he finally gained the strength to push Tao away. Tao laughed at the vain effort, shaking his head. “Oh, Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol. It’s too late. You have to remember. Byun Baekhyun? I’m sure the name is familiar to you?”
It was. Too familiar a name. A name Chanyeol didn’t want to remember. And he screamed, clutching as his head as he tried to shove it away, his feet stumbling, trying to run away from the monstrosity that was Tao.
“Hmm… man… I’ve read so many cases, I think I can tell you how this one turned out.” Tao’s voice is like an unwanted cold, following him even as he runs through the house, stumbling up the stairs. “Baekhyun was your lover wasn’t he? But like all relationships, something went wrong.”
“NO! SHUT UP!”
“What went wrong, Chanyeol?” Tao dodges the vase Chanyeol throws at him, ignoring the way the porcelain shards cut his feet. “Wait. Let me guess. You’re a sicko through and through aren’t you? Even before this whole fiasco. You just hid it better. But it had a habit of showing up during sex huh? You wanted to do some strange things that Baekhyun-ah was uncomfortable with.”
“No! That’s not true!” And the look on Chanyeol’s face was now far from confident. He looked like a child being bullied, tears threatening to fall from his quivering brown eyes. “Shut up!”
“At first it was just fights and stuff. Then… Baekhyun probably had enough. He tried to leave didn’t he?”
“No… no… Baekhyun wouldn’t leave me! He wouldn’t!” The look in Chanyeol’s eyes wasn’t all there and Tao smirked. Things were working the way he’d planned.
“Of course he did, Chanyeol. He gave you the ultimatum. A - stop pestering him for things he didn’t like, or B - he would leave. But you chose option C, didn’t you?”
“No… I…”
“You killed him.”
“NO!”
Chanyeol made one last lurch away from Tao, crying out when he found himself trapped in a room. Eyes wild, he tried to push past the boy, only to find himself overpowered, thrown back down onto the floor, then against a wall.
A wall that was evidently only wood and plaster, and it caved with the weight forced against it.
“Ah.” Tao closed his eyes in understanding as the dust cleared, revealing the skeleton that had been hidden. “I see… so this is where you hid him after you killed him. Actually, from the state of his clothes. You probably had your way with his corpse first, the madness finally taking over. And then...”
Chanyeol coughed, picking himself up from the rubble before freezing when he saw the dusty bones laid out beside him. His fingers closed around a piece of metal - a locket, silver from the way it had turned black. He would know that locket anywhere - he’d given it to the person it had belonged to after all.
His fingers were soft, trembling as they reach to stroke what remains of a jaw bone. And Chanyeol whispers in a soft voice - a voice that he hadn’t used since that night. “Baekhyun?”
~*~
“Baekhyun?”
Chanyeol whispers, his eyes wide with as he realizes the body in his arms, defiled and cold, is his boyfriend’s. He shakes as he takes in the torn clothes, the bruises, the marks - everything that he’s ever wanted to done, the evidence clear on his lover’s dead body.
“No… No… It can’t be.” He whispers again, shaking his head. His eyes look up at the wall nearby, noting hollow that had been an architectural flaw in the house. He remembers the wood and plaster that he’d bought - Baekhyun had been nagging at him a while to fix that flaw.
“I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it now, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol lights up, smiling as he placed Baekhyun inside the hollow. He gets the wood and plaster and works like a madman. The plaster sets even before the sun rises, and the workmanship is so good, it looked as if it had always been that way.
“Hahaha.” Chanyeol laughs softly, his eyes not at all quite there. “Oh he’ll be proud of me. So proud of me…”
Then, he looks around, realizing that he’s alone. “He…?” Memories, years and years of memories get buried away - a defense mechanism kicking it, activated by the sheer guilt Chanyeol feels. “Who’s he?”
Patting the plaster wall, Chanyeol only remembers that he must never, ever break it down. “Good good… I think I’ll go have some fun now…”
And then, he laughs.
~*~
Chanyeol laughed for the first time he had in months.
It was like he’s been released from a dark prison, the weight of his memories falling away. The doctor had been right - he didn’t need to feel guilty anymore. And to do that all he had to do was forget.
It was so easy to forget.
“Hehe…” Chanyeol smiles, looking around at the white room he’s in. His arms and legs are bound, put into a straight-jacket as was only natural - but he’d never felt so free in his life before. It was as if his mind had gone utterly blank, and he felt so light…
He was cured.
Excited, he turned towards the door where there was small window to the outside world. And he wanted to go toward it to call for a doctor. But to his surprise, there was someone already there.
A pair of dark eyes of which shadows flitted in their depths where the gleam of madness didn’t shine. And lips that curled, taunting, daring Chanyeol to forget that telltale smirk of triumph.
“No.” Chanyeol backed away, as if that could save him from the eyes in the window. “I’m cured… please… No…”
He didn’t remember that person. Not that person whom he’d caught - no, he’d been step up. By the police.
The victim who wasn’t a victim. The one who couldn’t be broken because he’d already been long before.
Tao.
Tao.
“GRAGH!”Chanyeol clutched his head, whimpering as the memories flood back, the weight and guilt of his sins spiraling, forming that sick, black pit in the middle of his heart. “Baekhyun… no… no… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Outside, Tao watched with satisfaction as Chanyeol screamed, looking very much like a cat that had caught his mouse.
“That was pretty mean of you, Tao.”
“Oh… it’s you Kris.” Tao sighed, turning away from the window to face the elder boy. “And my dear handler, I wasn’t being mean. That guy was being an idiot and tried to erase all his memories again. That would have been dangerous, I mean, he’d probably have accosted the next doctor that came in. Trust me, I should know. I’m crazy too, remember?”
Kris rolled his eyes, pushing Tao’s face away when it loomed close. “Yes, I remember. Which is why, knowing crazy you, you probably did it for fun rather than for that fancy reason you concocted.”
“Yeah well. You’ll never really know.” Tao shrugged before grinning. “So, you probably came from those snobbish old men. What do they want to nag about this time.”
“Our superiors,” Kris stressed on the word. “Want to warn you to be more careful with your body next time. It took you several months for you to heal from the damage, and in that time, several cases could have had been solved with your expertise. Plus, the bills were really exorbitant this time.”
Tao snorted. “Well, next time, they can try getting tortured by a psycho and see whether it’s easy to lure the psycho into complacency without getting at least a few broken ribs.”
“Yah.” Kris grabbed Tao’s arm, and for a moment, Tao was a little thrilled and awed by the fact that his handler actually had to guts to stare him in the eye the way he did, let alone touch him. “I want you to take care of yourself better too. Not because of medical fees or next mission or whatever, but because you always take too much on yourself, damnit. Next time, if it gets as bad as this time, pull out!”
“And you’ll come to my rescue, right? My brave and honourable handler.” Tao patted Kris on the back. “Seriously though. Compared to some of the other cases, this was not-”
“That’s not what I meant, Tao.”
Tao’s eyes narrow and he glared at Kris. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s every bit my business. I’m your handler Tao. I’m supposed to protect you - even if it’s from yourself. And if your mental stability fails… damnit Tao, I don’t want to put you down. Not when there’s fucking chance to save you.”
“I seriously doubt doddling Dr. Kyungsoo and his colouring exercises will help.” Tao scoffed, taking a step to walk off, only to get stopped by a firm hand.
“You’re supposed to tell me about it. Get it off your chest.”
With anyone else, Tao would probably have driven a pencil into his hand. But… Kris… was Kris, and as annoying as the handler was, Tao had to say that this guy… was different. Kris actually cared for him - the crazy cuckoo that was a ticking time-bomb experiment on legs. And Tao would never admit it to Kris, but… Kris was the only one Tao trusted, even in that twisted mind of his.
“It really was nothing.” Tao scratched his head, leaning against the wall. “It was a repeat memory. The one where the bastard fucked me with a gun. Nothing new. I’ve told you about it already.”
Kris paused for a second, looking Tao’s face carefully, as if trying to discern any lie. Finally he said. “Yeah. I remember that one.”
There was always that awkward silence after a conversation like that. And Tao let it hang for a bit before finally saying. “Well. I did Dr. Kyungsoo’s stupid exercise. Do I get my reward?”
“…Fine. You get your cake.”
“Cake?” Tao looked scandalized. “I was talking about you taking me to the Gucci sale downtown!”
“… In your dreams, Tao.”
“I do go for Gucci shopping in my dreams. But it’s not as satisfying as buying the actual thing.”
“Just… choose a flavor and place you want me to get your cake from.”
“Because seriously, after this mission, you have the nerve to ask tired out me to actually do the stupid exercise thing. I think I deserve at least one Gucci bag.”
“Tao…”
“Fine. A purse.”
“Tao…”
“Argh! Fine...” Tao’s pout disappeared as he happily canted. “Strawberry shortcake from TWG!”
“…”
“You know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that Kris, one day your eyes will pop up and really roll. And when that happens, I’m not picking them up and rolling them back to you.”
~*~