FRAGMENTED - Fragment 3, Part 1
Title: Fragmented
Author: gildeddiscourse
Beta: callmeliyah
Rating: Strong R
Genre: Action, Horror, Suspense, Drama, Angst, Thriller
Summery: 2006 was a hard year, rocky, strained; mottled with obstacles and too many pains to count. As 2007 approaches, promising a horizon of new possibilities and kinder times, Dong Bang Shin Ki happily immerse themselves in the upcoming release of their latest Japanese single; eagerly praying for a successful year free of pain and hardship. However, when one of their members suddenly turns up missing, their hopes are swiftly shattered. The five boys are immediately thrust into a cruel reality far more harsh and twisted then the evil in the depths of their darkest nightmares. An unknown man with an ugly agenda destroys their world and possibly their lives as they are forced to play with the very strings of life and death to save someone they love.
How far would you be willing to go to save the life of your friend, your brother? Would you be willing to sacrifice blood? Flesh? How about your very soul? The boys of Dong Bang Shin Ki will quickly discover just how far a human can be pushed all for the sake of love...
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This work is a piece of fiction only. I make no claims to know or own anyone there in mentioned. (Save of course for the occasional original character) I am making no profit from this; it is strictly for entertainment purposes slowly. The boys are property of themselves and each other. The plot/interpretation however is mine.
Previous Fragments :
Trailer, Part 1A, Part 1B, Part 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Fragmented”
By Gilded Discourse
Third Fragment: “And Rigor Sets In.”
I don't have enough courage
To open my eyes and let you go
There are words I can't keep inside,
Please just stay with me…
- “Love is Never Gone” By DBSK
-Friday, January 12th 2007
- 11:16 pm
A quiet click clacking resounded off the walls. It was dull, sluggish and yet somehow hollow sounding. There was a thick uneasiness in the air, and despite the late hour, none of the houses occupants were able to grasp the sanctuary of sleep.
Changmin paused his incessant typing, lifting a weary hand to lower the frameless spectacles perched across his nose; cold fingers tiredly rubbing reddened eyes. Hours of endless searching had run him into yet another dead end piled on top of an already mile long list of useless leads. No matter how hard the singer searched, he just couldn’t make sense of the situation.
Muted voices drifted down the hall, hushed and angry sounding and he felt another heavy sigh squirm its way up his throat. He could still smell the distinct tang of vomit and fear smothered beneath the heady fumes of cleaning products. Even through the closed bedroom door, it was pungent and he felt his nose curl in disgust as his stomach roiled.
Burdened chocolate orbs dropped, gazing passed the glowing laptop screen to the tiny box perched next to his thigh on the mattress; so unassuming looking. Hesitant fingers slid over the plain brown package, grasping the lid before setting it aside then peered into its contents with trepidation. It had arrived about an hour after the band had been subjected to the horrible news. Despite no one wanting to believe that their current circumstances were true, they knew now that they had no choice but to.
Finger tips brushed cold metal and withdrew, drawing out the small object. With a heavy heart the young tenor fingered the sterling cross, nails raking over the blood splattered surface to trail up into the fine ebony strands tied about the top; hanging it like a gruesome pendant. This cross was one of Jaejoong’s earrings. One of his favorites in fact that Changmin himself had given to the elder Kim as a get well gift a year ago. He had no doubt the soft lock of hair knotted crudely about the post were his as well. The little package had been delivered to the Avex Group headquarters with a companion video to the one aired on the news. Of course they didn’t want to believe it either. They had even sent the hair and blood samples out for immediate DNA testing. When the results had unfortunately proved positive, they had contacted their manager and sent a representative over immediately; with the authorities of course. The unsettled group of elder men had spent the entire evening since yelling, arguing, debating, questioning and all around grunting like a pack of dogs fighting over a piece of meat. It was sickening. He couldn’t understand how these people, these men who were supposed to care about them could be so detached about the whole sickening situation.
It was that fact which had ultimately led Changmin into taking refuge here in the quiet confines of his current haven.
Fingering the cross, the tenor exhaled before lifting a hand to his neck. Unclasping his necklace, he gently threaded the earrings loop, hair and all along the chain; letting it dangle across his chest. It was cold, and tickled slightly, but the weight felt strangely comforting.
The door creaked quietly open, and a head peeked through obscured by the darkness of the room. “Changmin-ah? What are you doing in here?” Yunho asked softly, reaching to feel out the light switch. “Why are the lights off?”
“It’s easier to concentrate.” The maknae muttered by way of explanation, drawing the neck of his shirt over the borrowed pendant before closing the box; setting it on the floor. Light bathed the room and he had to squint against the onslaught; rubbing stinging eyes before straightening his spectacles. Changmin did not meet the leader’s gaze, instead his attention returned to the dim blue glow of his laptop, fingers moving once again to dance across the keyboard. Yunho studied the young man for a moment before slipping into the room, closing the door with a quiet click then padded over to the bed; taking a seat next to the taller brunette.
They sat in silence for a moment the snickety snack of the clacking key’s the only sound aside from the faint rhythm of their breathing. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, but Yunho knew enough of the young man not to push him into speaking until he felt he was ready. Watching the boys nimble hands dance for a moment, he glanced at the words flying across the screen as he reached for a pillow; drawing the fluffy mound into his lap.
“What are you doing?” The leader finally pressed as the silence stretched on just a little too long.
“Looking for answers.” Was the soft reply, followed by several successive taps at the backspace key.
“Changmin.. You know you won’t find answers in there.” Yunho spoke softly; it was chiding without being judgmental, a sort of calm, soothing tone a father might use to direct a wayward child. The tenor did not look up from his work, his entire focus concentrated dutifully on the information flitting across his screen in familiar and repetitive tumults. “Changmin-ah...” The lead dancer repeated as the younger boy remained obstinately silent, raising a concerned gaze to peer into that passive face.
“I can’t just sit here… I have to do something hyung.”
“Changmin..” Yunho implored, reaching to still those dancing fingers; urging the youth to meet his gaze. “Why are you in here?”
The younger brunette blinked at the soft question, his shoulders rigid as firm eyes remained unwaveringly locked on the screen. Why was he in here? Was it really just to escape the hurtful words clogging the living room? Or to hide from the painful reality that their missing member was in very real danger? Was it just a bid for solitude? Or…?
“It smells like him.” He admitted finally, to himself as well as his companion. Yunho blinked, lowering his gaze to the pillow he had been in the process of pawing and inhaled deeply. Changmin was right. His scent permeated the room like a fine fragrance; clean and soothing and masculine. He could still smell the cologne the man must have donned the morning he left lingering in the air and the familiar heady scent of his shampoo. Fingering the corner of the pillow, Yunho hefted it higher, subconsciously drawing strength from the aroma that was distinctly Jaejoong.
“It’s comforting, isn’t it?” The leader spoke softly, and it was more of a statement then a question. Thin brown orbs rose to scan the walls of the lead singers’ quarters, taking in every single one of his belongings, all neatly tucked in place and organized to the letter. It brought a faint curl to the corner of his lips.
“Yeah.” Changmin breathed softly, the pads of his fingers sliding in slow circles across the keys, lost in thought a moment before he quietly returned to his unending typing.
“Have they come to a decision?” The magnae queried, a faint edge of distaste tinting his tone, as his touch flit to close the current window and pop up a new one; hurriedly typing in a fresh topic to search. Yunho shifted on the mattress, one nimble leg lifting to tuck itself beneath him while he idly plucked at an errant thread dangling from the hem of the pillows case.
“Surprisingly, yes.”
This caused Changmin’s hands to once again still, blinking before glancing over his shoulder at the older boy. “Really?” A soft nod was his only answer. “Then why are they still fighting?” He motioned to the door, the faint mumbled sounds of anger and raised voices slithering their way between the wood and carpet. Yunho shrugged, his attention lighting upon a picture of he and Jaejoong entangled and grinning like morons that sent an uncomfortable pang through his chest and he quickly tore his eyes away.
“Because they can?”
“What did they decide?” The magnae questioned softly, leaning forward as he carefully scanned the article he’d stumbled upon; skimming through its contents for something new. The dancer turned from his scrutiny of the room and glanced again at the blue framed computer screen; knowing that despite the near impossible probability of finding some hint or clue Changmin would continue his search. And, he could not dissuade him.
“Oddly enough, their letting us choose whether we want to participate or-”
“Let that man kill him?” Changmin scoffed, his ire at those insensitive ‘suits’ raising just a notch higher. “That is no choice.”
Yunho nodded, and stated simply, “I know.”
After a long pause, Yunho gathered his nerve, turning to carefully study the taller youths’ visage. Changmin, at times, was much like their eldest band mate; stoic, with a tight control on his emotions, able to hide any uncertainties or fears when needed. But, unlike their eldest, he was still a child, and that often left cracks in his mask that, when examined closely, would crumble and offer a much needed view of the vulnerable frightened young man within. But despite knowing the boy had to be hurting, it was hard to see in the calm set of his jaw and determined eyes. And Yunho was uncertain if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Have you thought about the question?” He finally asked, diligently scrutinizing the boys’ reaction.
As expected, the younger brunette barely blinked before offering a nod. “Actually, yes. That’s one of the things I was researching.” Changmin replied, raising a hand to tap against his lip as he contemplated a quick dilemma; his search once again brick walled with another dead end.
“Really? Any idea’s then?” Yunho wasn’t really surprised by that revelation. Their magnae had always been more logical then outwardly emotional.
With a quick nod, Changmin momentarily abandoned the useless searching, closing the current window with a faint click. “Well, I can’t pin it down perfectly. No two individuals’ heart rates and blood pressure are ever quite the same. One person could loose a few drops while another, an entire unit. But, I’ve tried to calculate the possible number by triangulating the factors of age, medical history and current health.. At least what we know of it.”
“And?”
“I think I might have it.” Changmin paused, clicking through several windows to pull up a thorough spread sheet, scrolling down to the bottom. “According to the math, I believe, it would be between .70 to .90 liters. Give or take. Granted, it’s still just an educated guess. There’s really no way to know for sure without actually being there.”
“That’s a pretty big margin of error.” Yunho mumbled after a short nod, leaning closer to quietly examine the youth’s work, running the numbers through his head while trying to keep his heart out of the equation. Which, in and of itself was a pretty difficult thing to do. This wasn’t like calculating how much water to add to a batch of cookies. This was his friends’ very life they were weighing…
“I know. But it’s the best I could do.”
Yunho quietly grasped the laptop, pulling it atop the pillow straddling his own thighs and scrolled through the information sorted rather neatly on the page. “No, Changmin-ah, it’s great. Really.. Without you we’d just be blindly shooting in the dark.” The leader smiled, reaching to ruffle the younger man’s hair without taking his eyes off the screen. The magnae smacked the hand away with a warning glare, before leaning back, propping his hands against the mattress; socks rustling over the carpet as long legs stretched.
“Maybe if I can persuade manager-hyung to get access to Jaejoong-hyungs medical records I could get a more accurate calculation?” The tenor mumbled, keeping his eyes averted from the painful reminders of their missing friend cluttering the shared bedroom.
“We can try, but I don’t think the hospital will release them. Not even with the current circumstances… Privacy laws and all.” Yunho mumbled, scrolling through the data before he paused, a thought occurring to him and he glanced up; his eyes meeting a familiar picture situated on the missing boys dresser. A furrow marred his brow.
“Then maybe the detective can pull some strings. That badge has to be good for something.” Changmin replied, his gaze flitting to the door as the endless arguing drifting down the hall seemed to cease for a brief moment. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for it to continue, and was not disappointed. Rolling his eyes, he plopped back onto the mattress, flopping an arm over his face.
“Perhaps... But, do you honestly think Jaejoong would want us snooping into his personal life like that? Even under these conditions?” Yunho asked, glancing down at the taller brunette, mulling the possibilities through in his own head. “I think he’d be offended. He’s such a private person when it comes to his health.”
“You’re probably right. He’d be too stubborn to realize it was for his own good on top of that.” Changmin mumbled through his sleeve with a soft snort.
“That’s our Jaejoongie.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
-Friday, January 12th 2007
- 11:52 pm
The door creaked softly, hinges in desperate need of a little care groaning with effort. A dark figure slid through the opened portal, before easing it closed once again. The room was stuffy. A pale yellow glow emanated from the nightstand the only illumination, filtering through the haze of a dutifully gurgling humidifier. The quiet only otherwise broken by the faint resonance of labored breathing. The air was sticky from the warm steam and he felt his lungs expand as he sucked down the fragrant tang of medications and humidity.
“Junsu-ah?” Yoochun called gently, careful to keep his voice low incase the youth in question happened to be sleeping.
A muffled cough was his only answer, the sound raspy and uncomfortably wet. Bare feet shifted across the carpet, sliding in next to the occupied mattress as dark eyes gazed down at the figure curled beneath the blankets. “Hey.” He mumbled, hands slipping into the pockets of his house pants in an unconscious habit as he examined that painfully blank look marring the handsome young man’s features. “Are you ok?” The baritone asked, hesitating as the younger boy turned away without warning; his back now to the intruder.
“I’m fine.” The burdened youth muttered with a sniffle, plucking a fresh tissue from the box next to his pillow and proceeded to blow his nose rather loudly. His reply came a little too quickly to be honest.
“That’s good..” Yoochun watched quietly, his hands twisting in his pajama pants; idly fingering random trails of lint lining the bottom crevice. “..I’m not…” he intoned, scuffing his heel against the thin rug before leaning over the bed; rising to his toes as he sought out the younger vocalists gaze. Junsu defiantly avoided meeting his prying eyes, dabbing at his nose before tossing the tissue on the night stand, nuzzling further into his bedding. “Do.. you mind if I stay here for a while?” The brassy blond shifted, reaching a hand up to scrub through his short locks compulsively; a nervous knot taking up residence in the pit of his belly. Junsu didn’t reply immediately, he barely even moved, eyes closing against thoughts he did not dare share. Yoochun waited in the silence, worrying his bottom lip before a faint sigh of relief escaped at the nod the other bestowed.
“If you want.”
“Thanks.” The former American muttered as he bent pulling the comforter aside, then slid beneath the blankets; all but snuggling up to the sick youth as he tucked them in. Propping his head atop a bent elbow, Yoochun simply enjoyed the closeness and warmth nestled beneath the blankets; fingers falling to wrap around the younger boy’s hip.
Glancing at the night stand as another dirtied tissue joined the ever growing pile, his eyes alighted upon the bowl of cool water and waiting clothe hung across the edge. Lifting onto his elbow he leaned over the quiet vocalist and grasped the terry rag, dipping it into the ice bath before squeezing off the excess moisture. With surprisingly gentle fingers, the baritone kindly dabbed and blotted the small beads of sweat from his friends troubled brow; slow and soothing, like he had seen Jaejoong do just a few days earlier.
“If you’re waiting for me to talk, you’re wasting your time.” Junsu muttered with a sigh, expression still painfully bare as that cool cloth soothed his brow and the burn of heat smoldering beneath his skin. Yoochun shifted, his cheek resting in his palm as he lowered the rag, gently bathing pale flesh. The lack of color in obviously feverish skin worried him. Junsu was far more troubled then he let on.
“I just wanted company, Su-ah.” The blond assured, laying the damp towel across the boy’s moist forehead taking extra care to tuck the wet edges away from the soft pillow below. A faint wheezing drifted through the blankets pressed to the younger Kim’s lips and Yoochun moved, rising onto his hip. “That sounds bad.” Reaching back towards the cluttered nightstand, he dug beneath a pile of soiled Kleenex snatching a pot of an herbal ointment and twisted off the cap. Immediately the fragrance of menthol and Eucalyptus reached his nose, tinted with a faint hue of Angelica beneath the heady cooling sensation. It was rather refreshing, even to his un-congested sinuses, and he took a deep breath of the cleansing fragrance before scooping out a healthy dollop with his fingers. Setting the pot on the mattress he carefully drew back the blanket, and lowered the collar of the quiet man’s shirt rubbing the mixture along the boys’ chest and throat to ease his breathing.
“I’m not a child, Yoochun. You don’t have to do this.” Junsu mumbled, but made no attempt to pull away, his eyes still averted.
“I know.” Yoochun replied with a faint smile, the edges just a little too forced but it didn’t make much difference. The ebony haired young man continually refused to look at him. Diligent fingers gently massaged the gel like concoction into the young vocalists’ skin, before replacing the lowered shirt. Dipping a single finger into the jar this time, the former American craned his neck, gazing down at the hiding boy to carefully dab the mixture beneath a reddened nose.
“I can do it myself.” A brow creased faintly, and the line of Junsu’s shoulders tightened.
“I know.” Yoochun repeated simply, carefully wiping away a stray dollop that threatened to smear across the tenors lip before resealing the jar. Grabbing a fresh tissue, he quickly cleaned the excess of the herbal remedy from his hand then carefully tucked his band mate in.
“Why are you doing this?” Junsu questioned, his voice lower then usual as he breathed. Yoochun was pleased to note the wheezing seemed to have eased, but something else now colored his tone, and he was not certain that it was an improvement. Sliding back down the mattress, the blond pressed up against the younger man, spooning into his friends back as a hand found a cold arm beneath the sheets; rubbing warmth and comfort into the rigid limb.
He replied simply, “I want you to feel better,” as he nosed into the short dark locks skirting the youths neck allowing his own eyes to close; silently offering anything the boy needed without saying a word. The entire exchange was loaded with double meaning, and as the strain in the tenors’ voice tightened, Yoochun was certain the other grasped just what he was really saying. Junsu swallowed hard, his fingers fisting in the comforter as the turmoil rolling through his body slowly began to bubble to the surface despite his efforts to keep it locked away. Detecting a faint tremble, Yoochun squirmed a hand between the tenors’ body and the mattress to wrap around his thin waist; pulling him firmly against his chest.
“Why?” the tremor in his voice was obvious now, urging the elder boy to tighten his hold.
“Because… I miss my smiling Junsu.” Yoochun replied. The faint smile he managed this time was less strained, but far from happy.
It was true. Since the discovery of their missing members fate Junsu had been off. And that uncomfortable little display he had put on earlier, only further stressed the issue. Something was bothering the boy; something more then just being worried for Jaejoong. And Yoochun was determined to discover what.
A shuddering breath passed parted lips, and the smaller boy turned, burying his face in the plump embrace of his pillows. In the arms of their fearless leader, Junsu had been strong. In light of the other boys suffering, he had held his own tears in check. But now, faced with this caring and open offering of understanding and unbiased comfort from their resident emotional roller coaster, he could not keep the unsavory sensations down any longer. A stinging wetness rose in his clenched eyes, moistening his eyelashes and the pillowcase below before a heavy sob shook his chest and he grasped desperately at the blanket. The feeling of sympathetic fingers gently rubbing along his arm and across his shoulders only brought the sobs to the surface faster, and no matter how hard he tried to stop; the tears would not cease.
Yoochun listened quietly, holding the pained boy close, massaging a warm hand over his skin as he remained silent. With a heavy heart, the baritone began to realize just what it was that was burdening their mood maker.
There was more then just sorrow in those tears. There was fear and guilt as well. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why, but he knew that particular scent. And it troubled him.
“It’s ok Junsu-ah. It’s ok. Let it out. You don’t have to hold it in... You don’t have to face it alone. We’re here. I’m here... We’ll… get through this together.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Continue to Part 2