(for everyone) Blood Scarcity
For: Everyone
Title: Blood Scarcity
Pairings: Kai/D.O, side!Baekhyun/Luhan
Rating: R
Word Count: 9,098
Warnings: Blood, gore, mature content
Summary: In the intersection between his personal and blood-bathed lives, Kim Jongin meets a foreign concept called love.
Author’s Note: I'm taking a little liberty with the prompt but I hope it doesn't deviate too much from the main point, and it might seem a little rushed but I hope that you'd like it anyway! TT Special thanks to A for betaing the entire thing for me; C and several other people who have been reading it throughout the process for me and encouraging me while I was whining. Thank you!
Stage One
At this rate, Jongin is pretty positive that Kyungsoo has noticed his presence.
Because of the three stops that the R8 has come to, Jongin?s sleek white Gallardo halts as well. It?s when the black sedan heads to the fourth stop that Jongin?s anticipation escalates?it?s almost the time and Yifan is never late. To say that Jongin is an expert in this stalking business would be too much of an overstatement, so he just labels Do Kyungsoo as another dense target, trying to make a name for himself in this world. Before Jongin even realizes, Kyungsoo will be gone from the list within the blink of an eye because it?s a given? he?s far too oblivious to what?s happening around him.
The car is eventually pulled to the curb and the owner makes his way to the tiny diner located at the periphery of the city. How quaint, Jongin muses as he takes notes of how Kyungsoo walks.
He has this air of innocent charm which resembles that of a kid?s, and Jongin isn?t certain what to make of it. He is a skillful artist when it comes to painting a death scene, but he?s no reader when it comes to living souls?and souls he?d like to stay alive. Upon perusing Kyungsoo?s back, Jongin has come to the decision that Kyungsoo is still not a threat, just like the first impression that the other male emanated.
He paces his car to the nearest parking lot, vehicle looking glaring amidst the row of cars parked there but he couldn?t care less. Unlike Kyungsoo, his car is there purely because he needs something to solidify his liquid cash, and maybe it has something to do with his penchant for impudence. This car is a manifestation of his status in this livelihood of his, a pedestal that not everyone can reach?not even this Kyungsoo. His R8 is just a product of luck.
Leaning against the side of the car, he lights his cigarette and shoves his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans, watching as the swirl of fumes billow from his mouth. At the taste of tobacco caressing the insides of his mouth, bidding him with an early flavor of the day, he hums. There?s something about the routine which makes him feel like he has the world within the expanse of his palm, powerful enough to step on the moralities which he knows still nestle somewhere within him?ones which he?d like to incinerate.
He gives Kyungsoo ten minutes before stubbing his cigarette on the nearest trashcan and making his way to the diner. Yifan doesn?t like spending too much time on low class people like them?a status which won?t stay with Jongin for a prolonged time for he?s been imbued with the crown among these peasants. There is a promise of a raise looming over him.
Just as expected, Kyungsoo walks out of the diner with a brown envelope in hand, face still as clueless as when he entered the establishment. He dons a really good poker face if Jongin has to be honest, but he dislikes admitting anyone?s strengths.
With the hood on his hoodie drawn, Jongin prepares himself for the run, eyes observing as Kyungsoo makes his way back to his car. That?s when Jongin dashes towards his target, snatching the envelope from the unaware hand, and by the time Kyungsoo realizes what?s befallen him (and doesn?t have the bravery to shout for help as what?s inside the envelope cannot be leaked to anyone), Jongin is already far from Kyungsoo?s standpoint.
Hiding in a dank alley just next to the road of the diner, Jongin pants lightly, leaning against the wall. He opens the envelope with anticipation escalating, as though it?s his Christmas gift, and sees a brand new file and a set of pictures. A complete profile.
A smile paints itself on his lips before he watches as the R8 disappears down the street, wallowing in regrets as to why the owner hasn?t been careful enough with his prized possession.
The redolence of blood invades his senses in an acute manner, ensuring Jongin that he?s on the right path. A trickle of euphoria surges into him as he sighs and clacks his tongue against the palate of his mouth in satisfaction. His lips curve into a smug smile when he?s certain that his victim is only half conscious, his own knuckles throbbing with triumph and the knife in his hand screaming for more blood to coat it as some drips onto the damp ground of the dank alley.
His victim is still awake, conscious, but maybe the blows that Jongin has previously inflicted on him etches a sense of lingering dizziness that won?t go away anytime soon?just how Jongin likes it. The man is slumped on the ground, half-limp, and that?s Jongin?s cue to reach for the bat that he?s left at the end of the alley.
Returning to the man with his beloved weapon in hand, he drives the first hit against the side of the skull, transmitting all of his force into his arms to evoke a crisp sound echoed against the decrepit brick walls. Warm blood splatters, covering his black worn-out jeans and sweatshirt, mingling with his sweat. At this rate, the man?s heart is no longer beating, but Jongin is never content without a good bout of smashing.
A crime scene is never good enough without an immense amount of blood.
Jongin is exactly the type of assassin that the cleaners despise.
When Yifan accepts his polaroids, there isn?t any amount of surprise dribbling into his features anymore. It?s a common practice for Jongin to steal people?s targets, and as long as Jongin has the polaroids, he has the money.
?Yixing?s, Jongdae?s, and Kyungsoo?s,? Yifan notices, murmuring the names under his breath.
?Yep,? Jongin replies in a cheeky manner, although Yifan probably hasn?t been speaking to him. Yifan looks up, as if confused, before nodding understandingly. The man has a habit to look puzzled whenever and wherever he goes, so Jongin isn?t entirely confounded by how such a man with an incredibly significant role can wear such an expression albeit the vast knowledge that he certainly holds.
And Jongin waits?waits for the news to come. He?s been sitting at the summit of this competition for god knows how long now; he should?ve been promoted by now. But instead of shaking Jongin?s hand and telling him that he?s now no longer a lower class, Yifan falls into the routine of writing Jongin his check. The sound of his pen scribbling on the paper is deafening for Jongin, and there?s no awaited confirmation even after it?s over. Instead, Yifan saunters out of the private room of the prestigious restaurant, not bothering finishing his avant garde meal.
There is ire brewing in his chest when he steals Kyungsoo?s targets for the third time, for the more his promotion is delayed, the more he?s tempted to rob the newcomers of their job. And it?s dark, drizzling with a chance of solid downpour laden in the evening sky when Jongin corners Kyungsoo against his R8. Kyungsoo?s uncanny calmness grates at his nerves; it surely doesn?t fulfill what Jongin has come for. Under his hood, his smile is wiped entirely off his face, replaced with an unsatisfied scowl as he waits for that stolidity to be replaced with trepidation.
But none of his expectations come true, leaving Jongin crestfallen within a fraction of second as he, again, snatches the paper bag from Kyungsoo?s hand. Kyungsoo shows not much of a resistance, only glancing down for a split moment before facing Jongin again, still as stoic as before.
A hopefully taunting grin pulls the corners of Jongin?s lips while he derisively waves the bag in front of Kyungsoo?s face, mocking the other male childishly. ?Aren?t you going to take this back??
Kyungsoo shakes his head, expression almost placid, not struggling even a bit with Jongin?s arm still propped horizontally against his shoulders, wedging his small frame against the arm and the hood of his own car. ?No. You?ll take it anyway.?
?Two months and no kill. You don?t fit in this world, kid. Go home to your filthy rich parents.? There?s a twitch of muscles nearby Kyungsoo?s eyes, and it?s enough of a response for Jongin. He triumphantly takes a few steps back, loaded gun in his previously empty hand, barrel pointed at Kyungsoo. ?Go on, scram.?
And Kyungsoo gives him one last look before pivoting on his heel and getting into his car, driving away.
Jongin swears he saw a smile curled on the other?s lips before Kyungsoo?s departure.
Stage Two
Japan feels a lot more crowded than the streets of Seoul. Though maybe it?s nothing but a figment of Jongin?s imagination. The throng seems a lot more enthusiastic and the fallen leaves scatter across the sidewalk in a higher density, as though there?s no room for loneliness apart from that in Jongin?s chest. He?s still hollow despite the immensity of company that enshrouds him. But he?s not here to burrow himself in this pile of self-pity, as he must carry himself with the poise while he does his job; this time, it?s not stolen. Not everyone from the lower class is allocated with jobs abroad?and it grants Jongin a sense of confidence, ensuring himself that his raise is an inch away from his grasp.
The scent of fall is always his favorite, for it complements the dulcet smell of decay, rusting and coating his favorite pair of gloves. He paces himself faster, eager for another performance to prove his capability. It?s been long since the last time he?s been doused with fervor, so he wants to waste no time. The quicker that he gets to the rendezvous point with the victim, the more time he can spend on crafting his magnum opus, and Jongin doesn?t want to upset his Polaroid camera this time.
The hotel where the meeting is being held is grandiose, and Jongin tries chasing away the unease that creeps into the pit of his stomach. Despite the inconsequential row of digits in his bank, sometimes he feels as though he doesn?t belong in this kind of place; a huge fragment of him is still attached to his past, where home is defined by the simplicity of human presence, where his mother would sit him on her lap and read him a series of bedtime stories.
He schools his demeanor into a calm one, clearing his throat as he walks into the elevator with a horde of business people, expressions all mirroring smugness Jongin cannot stand?which is rich coming from himself. But Jongin has been told that people learn to despise the qualities in others that they can actually find in themselves. It?s hardly the matter within the moment though, so he fixates his focus on the screen with the changing numbers, counting as the elevator ascends.
When the ding notifies him that he?s reached the thirty-second floor, he exits the carrier and heads towards the designated room. He knocks on it three times, and it doesn?t take long until the victim (Yamano something, Jongin doesn?t retain insignificant details in his mind) opens the door for him, formal smile perching on the older male?s full lips. He?s this plump man, lips stained with the hint of too many cigars and stomach with too much beer. He reminds Jongin of his late father?the perfect victim for a perfect opportunity.
A little chitchat here and there, Jongin ensures that the door is locked. The room seems soundproof enough to begin the bloodshed, but he?d like to think that he?s successfully muffled the man?s mouth as he pushes the man against the wall, the first stab lacerating his throat with a deadly precision, slicing through the trachea with the smoothness that becomes Jongin?s ecstasy.
The second stab is almost fully impaled into the man?s chest (a part of many which will later form a crucifix; a morbid crime scene for his masterpiece) when Jongin notices the presence of someone else?a little too late for the said person has smashed something (which maybe is a vase, Jongin isn?t sure) against Jongin?s skull. He lands onto the wooden floor with a thud, something warm oozing from the base of his head, trickling down his neck.
In his blurry sight is someone in all black, and Jongin abhors their existence as the intruder finishes the man with a gun, a bullet causing a spread of a clattered halo to form on the wall.
The first thing that he notices upon stirring from his somewhat tight slumber is the pain that throbs at the base of his skull, a reminder of what happened back in the hotel room. He cringes, blinking several times to adjust his vision, the decrepit ceiling stark and colored with splinters of lights filtering through the blinds. It?s a really low class hotel if not a motel, he notices?the pungent stench of alcohol and medicines invade his senses almost right away, and he furrows his eyebrows.
There?s only a lapse for around a minute or two before the door swings open, exposing the presence of a person who?s too familiar for Jongin. ?Kyungsoo?? His voice is strained, nearly inaudible due to his throat being parched. Disbelief laces his tone, complementing his slightly widened eyes.
?Hi,? Kyungsoo says as he closes the door behind him. He looks so much like a child with his plain black sweatshirt and black pants?Jongin swears he never sees Kyungsoo donning another color of clothing. ?Awake and alive?? he asks, voice painted with familiarity that isn?t mutual on Jongin?s part, teasing.
?Yeah,? he replies, confusion bleeding through the curt answer. ?What? happened??
?Well, I believe someone had to avenge their loss.?
?So?why didn?t you kill me?? Jongin asks a second after digesting what Kyungsoo means. ?Or leave me there bleeding? Let the police find me.?
Kyungsoo chuckles and it makes Jongin feel extremely stupid. Jongin sends him a glare, which Kyungsoo responds to by lifting both hands, as though telling Jongin that he?s surrendered as he closes the gap between them. Kyungsoo folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall next to Jongin?s bed, the gap between the bed and the wall barely enough for a chair.
?Simple. I don?t wish to cause more hassle for you?cleaned the crime scene from your blood as well. Be thankful,? Kyungsoo discloses, evoking nothing but a raise of eyebrows on Jongin?s behalf. ?We?re colleagues. Why don?t we?be friends.?
Jongin scoffs, palpably amused by the suggestion. ?There?s no camaraderie in this world. This isn?t high school, so you can bring your friendly ass back to your rich society and make friends there.?
At that, Kyungsoo simply shrugs, nonchalance profusely emitted from his figure. ?There?s food on the table. Get well soon.?
And he leaves the room after smiling too politely at Jongin, leaving his most recent victim bewildered.
Returning to Seoul, the discombobulation still swarms in Jongin?s head, thoughts swimming in the ocean of probabilities as he wonders about the reasoning behind Kyungsoo?s action. He probably should?ve inquired about this kid before underestimating him? maybe Yifan knows a thing or two. Jongin has done his research from all the stalking, certainly, but there are surely heaps of holes missed?he only knows the whereabouts of Kyungsoo?s mansion, and the fact that Kyungsoo barely gets out of it save for doing his job. He knows Kyungsoo?s schedules after paying someone to do the observation, but nothing more than that.
Jongin runs his fingers through his already disheveled dark locks as he vacates the airport, his backpack the only belonging that he brings with him. He halts a taxi and tells him his address, the trip long and quiet. It reminds him too much of his apartment, so when his arrival is welcomed with a similar amount of silence, he?s barely concerned.
Except for the fact that there is a bouquet of flowers (ones which Jongin definitely has no idea on what types) in warm colors, and a card. Picking it up, he flips the card open to find the somewhat expected.
Get well soon. Coffee? Meet me at the caf? across the road 9 AM tomorrow.
Jongin ensures himself that he?s not interested in the whole friendship business?Kim Jongin doesn?t do friends. So when he finds himself crossing the road just a little after nine in the morning on the next day, he blames his curiosity for nagging at him too much.
Kyungsoo is already there, clad in another set of black attire, with a smile too friendly tugging the corners of his lips again. Jongin has grown accustomed to it, prizing himself in his rapid adaptation, especially towards this male?s antics. A sour expression sits on Jongin?s face in return to the gesture, settling on the seat next to the other male without a word spoken.
?Hi,? Kyungsoo chirrups out. ?How?s your head??
?Why are we meeting here?? Jongin retorts.
A shrug. Another display of nonchalance. ?Coffee hangout. Isn?t that what friends do??
?We?re not friends.?
?Oh, but we are. You wouldn?t have come if we weren?t,? he lilts, aggravating Jongin more. ?So, let?s start again, shall we? How?s your head??
?It?s fine,? Jongin begrudgingly replies, feeling idiotic in the face of the other male, chastising himself inwardly for coming in the first place. But what?s been done cannot be undone, and lamentation doesn?t do him much good either. ?Why are you so? insistent on being friends with me??
?Nothing,? and a bead of a terse chuckle escapes his lips. ?I just want a friend. Is that too much to ask??
?From me, yes. I don?t do friends.?
?Yet you still came.?
?Stop using it as an excuse.?
?It?s not an excuse?I?m merely stating the fact.? Kyungsoo?s replies are composed, not allowing even a fissure of annoyance, making Jongin seem like just an airhead in front of Kyungsoo.
Jongin despises the situation, so instead of admitting his utter defeat, he simply busies himself with the menu albeit already having in mind what he?s going to order. At his sultry expression, Kyungsoo laughs and shakes his head.
?You?re a funny one, Kim Jongin.?
?Shut up. I?m not,? he speaks through his gritted teeth. ?Next time I steal from you, I?ll ruin your teeth.?
?Oh, right. Because you?re extremely capable of that,? Kyungsoo nods, eyes glinting with mirth. ?Sorry I messed with your grand performance, by the way. The stab was? beautiful. I would?ve stayed to watch more but I had a job to finish myself.?
?I?ll never forgive you for it,? he says, grunting. ?It was a plan that I?d prepared for a week, you fuck.?
Another chuckle, and Jongin elbows him not so gently along with tossing him a glare. That only amplifies the intensity of Kyungsoo?s chuckle though, and he fakes a pained look that makes Jongin unable to hold his own amused grin.
Stage Three
There?s something about Kyungsoo which attracts him like an incantation?it could be how the other male seems so relaxed, yet he?s far more capable than what Jongin initially expected. The hit with the vase has indicated that Kyungsoo is far from his first impression (which is profusely accented with the lack of aptitude), and when Kyungsoo shoots Jongin?s target with a sniper gun just a second before Jongin has the chance to smash the side of the head with his baseball bat, Jongin knows that the game is on.
?You started it first. You stole two of my targets within less than a month,? Kyungsoo says with amusement obviously written all over his facial features, taking a sip of his homemade coffee as he sits on Jongin?s couch. Those eyes are too big, Jongin notes. And those lips are too full, too?shapely. He?s learned to nitpick about Kyungsoo?s face too well.
?Technically one,? Jongin corrects. ?The other one was a coincidence. I was told to kill his syndicate, so when there was another one, I thought one of you would?ve been assigned to kill that one?so I might as well just take out both.?
?Damn, you could?ve stolen from the wrong person,? Kyungsoo shudders, but the levity doesn?t dissipate from his voice.
?There?s no wrong person in my case.? Jongin shakes his head, folding his legs against his chest as he makes himself comfortable on the armchair adjacent to the couch.
?I heard someone named Byun Baekhyun would wipe you off planet earth if you do so much as touch his target with a finger.?
?Yeah. Baekhyun and I? We?re buddies.?
Kyungsoo crinkles his nose at that. ?You said you don?t do friends.?
?I don?t think buddies equate friends,? he shrugs before imbibing his lukewarm coffee. ?We simply tolerate each other?in a way that we at least would allow each other to steal and we won?t end each other?s lives because of it. We started off during a similar time?more than two years ago though?and I guess solidarity forms itself when you share so many difficulties.?
A lapse of silence. ?That?s?deep,? Kyungsoo comments, seemingly truthful. ?What are we, then? Are we buddies??
At that, Jongin falls into a pause, staring at his coffee table. ?I?m?I think we?re?? and he rummages through his mind, seeking the right word to place between them, defining the brief yet comfortable relationship that has grown into a fragment of Jongin?s life. ??friends. I think we are, yeah,? he eventually concedes to the usage of the word, tentatively casting his gaze onto Kyungsoo.
And there is a huge grin splitting his face, and Jongin thinks Kyungsoo?s heart-shaped lips look odd, yet the kind of odd which proffers him something akin to solace?it?s a shape that Jongin could get used to. Within the fraction of the moment, Jongin wonders how in the world Kyungsoo ended up in such a world, splattered with crimson debris and livid corpses; where the vermilion and periwinkle that they know of happen to be derived from the face of carnage.
?Thank you, Jongin.?
Jongin doesn?t admit to himself that he?s lonely until he shows up a lot more often in front of Kyungsoo?s door, sometimes with paper cups filled with their favorite coffee choices, sometimes drenched with the rainwater, seeking shelter used as another excuse to meet the older male. His loneliness has never felt so glaring until he decides to latch onto the only person whom he?s opened up to as of late, missing the connections with human beings no matter how detached he?s made himself to be.
In order to be a killer, one must kill a part of themselves, or something along that line?Jongin cannot remember precisely, but it?s a quote that he?s read somewhere, and tattooed on his mind, for it always rings true.
There was a part of himself that he lost forever after his very first job; melancholically put, there was a part of him that he?d murdered alongside the man who didn?t even have the courage to run, staying there and waiting for his death at the end of Jongin?s gun. (Later on, he learned that it wasn?t the absence of courage?it was the presence of it, for bravery isn?t about fleeing, but about facing what?s inevitable, despite knowing the consequence.)
He remembered blinking when the bullet sliced through the victim?s head, particles of brain mattersprayed all across the wallpaper causing his stomach to lurch. He remembered the painful hunching over the toilet after cleaning himself, purging his dinner. Maybe he also vomited that part of himself along with the unfinished meal?at least anxiety had had the audacity to stop him from gobbling his food prior, or else he would?ve lost more of himself during the prolonged process. Amidst splashing a gowpen of water on his face and scrutinizing the weary lines of his features, he promised that it would be the last time he would appear so weak, so sickly, facial features lacquered with apparent fear and guilt.
None of those would do him any good in this world.
(And he needed the money to survive.)
Jongin wonders if Kyungsoo has experienced what he did, so as he?s sprawled on Kyungsoo?s couch with his cup of coffee placed on the floor, he observes the other male as Kyungsoo reads a thick textbook for college work. From this close, he seems like the quintessence of a pristine image, of an ideal son within the high-end society. It?s as though his humanity still clings to him like a second layer of skin, unblemished, and Jongin isn?t certain whether to envy him or be skeptical towards him and his innocence.
?Is there any particular reason as to why you like staring at me?? Kyungsoo asks, shattering the silence that previously blankets the living room. His eyes are still fixed on his textbook, but the mischievous smile perching on his lips is telltale.
When the chagrin splatters a blush of crimson all over his cheeks, Jongin isn?t surprised. There is something incredibly intimate about staring regardless of the intention behind it, and Jongin finds it a gaffe to stare for as long as he has. He immediately averts his gaze, but the hurry does nothing but expose more of how embarrassed he is, and he can hear Kyungsoo?s repressed laughter fills the air for the place is still doused with quiet.
He glares at Kyungsoo and their eyes meet. That?s when Kyungsoo discards his textbook and places it on the coffee table, getting up from the couch and steps towards Jongin. When the distance is crossed, he looms over Jongin, back bent with his arms folded, as though observing Jongin from up close, eyes nearly unblinking but there?s a hint of joke laden in his tugged lips.
At that, something like nervousness brews at the pit of Jongin?s stomach, and watching the other male this close, Jongin has it in his mind a sliver of thought of just how those lips would taste against his?just an innocent wishful thought which sends his eyes to flutter close a little, just a little?but that?s enough as a clue for Kyungsoo as he makes Jongin?s thought come true.
When their lips meet in a soft collision, Jongin almost loses his balance, and all that he knows next is having Kyungsoo?s knees straddling his thighs, Kyungsoo?s back arched as he bends down to mold their lips together. And with the too-shaped, too-soft of a pair of lips desperately try merging itself against Jongin?s coffee-stained, chapped, lips, he thinks that this is it.
This is how it feels to be less lonely, less alone.
Their liplock advances, with little nips and licks, and for someone with such a juvenile impression, Kyungsoo is surprisingly bold?almost aggressive. Jongin doesn?t mind, though, for there are things that his usually self-sufficient courage cannot bring himself to do?things like this, which are definitely out of his forte. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, seems like he?s done this a myriad of times before, and the prediction itself etches jealousy within Jongin, but he rushes and deletes the thought from his mind as he cannot afford to ruin the moment for himself.
Jongin kissed. Jongin made out. Jongin had sex. None of it held any meaning, but this one does (at least he?d like to think that this peculiarity of stomach butterflies that occur to him does hold a meaning), and he doesn?t entirely know if it?s a good thing for things have escalated, fallen out of his hands like granules of sand escaping the gaps between his spread out fingers.
It does feel like it holds a meaning when Kyungsoo?s hand cups his face and thumb caresses the expanse of his cheekbone, the gentleness something entirely new in his life. While it reminds him of his mother?s touch, her fingers raking through his hair as she hummed an old song to escort him to slumber, there is something foreign that it contains, and it makes Jongin even more nervous yet there is a positive anticipation simmering within, leaving him conflicted. But instead of dwelling in the dilemmatic source, Jongin chooses to revel in the contact, in the way their lips try merging themselves against each other, shifting back and forth with the dominance but Kyungsoo is more adamant, as though attempting to convey something that Jongin doesn?t wish to fathom right now.
When their lips finally part and their breath mingles with each other?s within the proximity, Jongin looks at the other male in disbelief, slowly digesting what they both have done. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, doesn?t seem too dazed by his own caprice.
?What?the hell??Jongin mutters, but realizes that he himself has benefited from the kiss so he shuts his mouth, and stares at Kyungsoo instead. ?We just kissed,? he states the obvious after a few seconds of staring, which indubitably etches another bout of embarrassment in Jongin.
?Yeah, we did,? Kyungsoo agrees, seemingly entertained by Jongin?s confounded look. ?And I?m also on top of you, Jongin.?
?But?kissed,? Jongin insists, ignoring the mirth that dances in Kyungsoo?s sentence and expression. ?You kissed me.?
?I did.?
?And??
?And?? Kyungsoo?s eyebrows are quirked, confused by Jongin?s words.
?Shouldn?t it?I?never mind. Could you? Could you please get off me? I need to go to the bathroom.?
At the end of the day, when he fixes his gaze at his ceiling?stark and lonely?with his cheeks still feeling like there is residual embarrassment that the awkwardness has incised on him, Jongin believes that he?s scared. That?s true; even after bloodlust is infused in his veins, brutality rimming his mind with the mentality of a killer where life and death make no difference in him?except when it?s his, for he still values his life, values the mundane edges, value the decadence?he?s still scared of something so trivial. Something so?mindless.
Hasn?t love been a concept so hackneyed that people glorify to the point of being overrated? Jongin has deemed it out of his league a long time ago, despite the knowledge of the longing that was still there, despite miniscule, within him. He?s always seen it as something too clich?, that he should be better off without it.
But no, no. He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in distress.
It shouldn?t be love?he couldn?t love someone whom he only knows for a little less than three months, but romantic feelings are definitely there. They?ve been blooming, uninvited, and Jongin feels like clawing his insides out to try and regurgitate the feelings, back to point zero where he feels nothing. Feeling nothing is easier, for he doesn?t have to feel dependent on someone. Dependence is toxic, dependence is suicidal. Dependence isn?t something that he can afford.
His reverie is disrupted by the sound of the constant vibration from his phone against the hard plane of the nightstand. Groaning, he seizes the device, but the annoyance doesn?t linger for too long upon seeing who is calling.
He has to fight the urge to smile, mentally scolding himself for it. ?Hello? Do you know what time it is??
Jongin?s half-joking and half-irritated question is cut halfway by the sound of Kyungsoo?s chuckle, and Jongin has to bitterly swallow down to stop himself from chortling along. ?I know, I know. Sorry, you grump,? he says, but from his tone Jongin can tell that he isn?t truly apologetic. There?s then silence as Jongin waits for Kyungsoo to continue, since his own throat feels slightly constricted. ?I just called to say?sorry. Yeah. For kissing you?I?m sorry.?
You don?t have to, Jongin wants to say, but nothing comes out from him.
?It?s okay. Just give me one of your targets in return,? he says instead, tone implying that he?s joking but there?s a hint of seriousness in it.
A sigh. A heavy one. ?That?s all that you?ve got in your mind, isn?t it?? Kyungsoo asks.
?Yeah, I need the money. Unlike you.? His answer is half-assed, but when there?s another pause wedged in the conversation, Jongin feels that he might or might not have hurt Kyungsoo with it.
?I need the money too,? he eventually divulges. ?My parents are in debt. They?re running away, leaving me alone. It?s about time that they take away my house and car if I can?t pay back the loan.?
?? Oh.?
?Yeah.. So?I suppose this job would be the easiest way out. My parents borrowed quite a number.?
At this, Jongin isn?t entirely sure of what to say. His father was never present in his family; Jongin was a product of a one night stand, but his mother was a wonderful parent until her death, so he couldn?t ask for a better family. He certainly has ever wished of having both parents, but in Kyungsoo?s case it doesn?t seem much like a fairytale either.
?Anyway,? Kyungsoo clears his throat, snapping Jongin out of his musing. ?I?m not calling to tell you about the sob story of my life. I guess?take this as you will, Jongin, but I like you. The kiss?it meant something.?
Stage Four
Jongin can?t think? to the point where he seeks out Baekhyun of all people because Baekhyun is the only person he has, sad enough to say. Or not really; he has someone called Sehun from the blurs of his adolescence, but Sehun disconnected every filament between them once he had found out what his childhood friend was doing to survive. He could?ve gone and visited Sehun in his student apartment, but another rejection is more than what Jongin can handle right now.
They?re still a bit bloodstained after finishing Baekhyun?s latest job to incinerate the existence of a gang, the cacophony of pained screams still fresh in Jongin?s ears and the sight of oxblood marring the chipped paint of his baseball bat still haunting his vision. This reminds Jongin of their younger days, when they would still share their daily predicaments without having to see each other as competitors to get to the top?to get their promotions. Smoking on a building?s rooftop, feet dangling off the edge of the ledge, as though telling death that they?re not afraid of it?and they aren?t, for they?ve been playing a game with it for a little too long to actually fear the arrival of their time.
Watching as another collection of smokes streams from Baekhyun?s mouth, billowing and dissipating, he?s still unsure as to why he told Baekhyun that he needed to talk, apart from the diminutive recollection about how Baekhyun managed to separate his job and his life?private life. There is someone called Lu Han in his life, although the male, as far as Jongin remembers, is just a mere baker instead of someone from their world. Thus Jongin isn?t entirely sure as to why he had it in his mind to try and dig some words of advice from Baekhyun, who probably has a totally different case compared to Jongin?s.
?So, are you here to finally push me off the ledge, or what?? Baekhyun eventually asks, tone oozing the trademark boredom.
?Nah,? Jongin shakes his head, taking a deep drag from his burning cigarette. ?If I wanted to kill you, I would?ve done it in a messier way, so that I can lick your blood off my fingers. You know me.?
?Right. So, what?s the business??
?How are you and Lu Han??
?What?? Baekhyun is no longer staring at the skyline, and Jongin has successfully snatched his full attention. ?What about me and Lu Han? We?re fine. Why are you asking??
Jongin falls silent, choosing to secure his focus on somewhere else but Baekhyun. A minute hint of nervousness lines his expression, awkwardly diverting the topic that he?s brought up himself. And that action cannot be more apparent to Baekhyun.
?You?re not? asking me about my love life for advice, right?? Disbelief saturates Baekhyun?s voice, followed by the mirth that accentuates the end of it. There?s a scoff, and then a shrug. ?Do I look like a love guru for you? Man, Jongin, you and your fucking??
?It?s not love advice, per se,? there comes his defense, finally. ?It?s not even love. I don?t love Kyungsoo, you fucking??
?Kyungsoo? Do Kyungsoo? That amateur? You must be fucking kidding me,? Baekhyun chuckles. ?So, tell me, tell me. What?s happened? Did you fuck him shitless and he couldn?t walk for three days??
?No, hyung. Seriously,? he punches Baekhyun?s arm not so playfully, grunting. ?We just? kissed.?
?That?s all?? Baekhyun inquires after finishing laughing at Jongin. ?You kissed and you?re so?fucking?confused you have to look for a love advice from the Byun Baekhyun? Fuck, Jongin. You?re in so deep.?
?I?ll push you off the ledge,? Jongin growls.
?I dare you,? another trail of laughter slips past that mouth. ?But really, Jongin. You?re in too deep.?
?What do you mean, in too deep?? he arches an eyebrow, confusion palpable.
?You?re in too deep. As in you?re possibly in love?at the very least infatuated.?
The first time Jongin meets Kyungsoo again after the kiss is when he notices the familiar sniper gun which targets his victim, but the realization comes too late as the body suddenly has become limp in his grasp, and he shakes his head, fishing out the Polaroid camera out of his backpack to take the picture. And he texts Kyungsoo, asking for a coffee meeting at the nearest coffee shop, where he borrows the bathroom to wash his face with the cold water. He shudders for the temperature that the weather proffers is unforgiving, but he needs it to freeze his mind, preparing himself from the imminent damage that he probably will be taking upon having to converse with Kyungsoo face to face.
When he drags his feet out of the bathroom, Kyungsoo is already there, sitting behind a table propped against one corner of the caf?, looking as childish as ever with his oversized sweater and a shawl too big. He tentatively approaches the other male, before settling himself on the seat adjacent to the other male?s. It?s a little too familiar?the scene. But this time, he?s frozen by the anxiety, unable to return Kyungsoo?s smile. He wrings his hands beneath the table, resting them on his lap, before reminding himself that he?s there for a purpose.
?Hi,? Kyungsoo says, voice laced with joviality as per usual. ?How are you??
?Someone hasn?t bashed me in the head, so I?m good,? he replies, tone stoic but he?s almost smiling. ?Yourself??
?You have quite a sense of humor.? Kyungsoo hums. ?And I?m fine. Why are we meeting here again??
Sighing, he retrieves the Polaroid picture from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to Kyungsoo. ?I believe this is yours.?
?Ah, you took it for me. How kind. Thank you.? Jongin watches him as Kyungsoo pushes it into the pocket of his jeans.
?But it isn?t for you,? he slowly discloses after a moment of silence. He stares on the patterns of the table, wooden surface glossed with lacquer, for meeting Kyungsoo will inevitably inflict something that he doesn?t wish to face for the time being. Too much, he reminds himself. It would be too much. The butterflies fluttering in his stomach, resembling nausea. The anxiety. The anxiety.
?Oh?? Kyungsoo sounds slightly taken aback.
?It?s for me,? he sighs, shaking his head after a brief lapse. Kyungsoo listens. ?I wanted to see you.?
Kyungsoo doesn?t reply, but from his peripheral view, Jongin senses a smile blossoming at the corners of Kyungsoo?s mouth.
?Someone told me that I was in too deep.?
And another bout of silence, until Kyungsoo speaks, his tone loaded with confidence and a little husky edge. ?Did you drive here??
Somehow at the end of the day, Jongin ends up spending his winter evening against someone?s door as Kyungsoo pushes him against the oak surface once they?re in the mansion, lips crashing against each other?s as Kyungsoo?s hand travels from Jongin?s cheek down to his chest, tracing the contours of his torso before going to place itself on the underside of Jongin?s thigh, lifting it against Kyungsoo?s side as Jongin remains passive for the most part save for the fury that his lips display, wanting to devour Kyungsoo?s taste with a chant of more, more, more. He radiates desperation, which is embarrassing, but Jongin has shamed himself enough in front of Kyungsoo to not truly care about it. So when Kyungsoo?s other hand meanders to slip beneath Jongin?s sweatshirt, he?s learned to ignore the heat that pools on both of his cheeks, blood undoubtedly suffused to those areas.
Jongin?s arms are wrapped around Kyungsoo?s neck in insistency that spells out various things, but while despair is prominent, it also speaks something along the line of you bastard, you pulled me in this deep. But Kyungsoo is filled entirely with complacency after what Jongin has said earlier in the coffee shop, knowing too well that he?s gotten Jongin wrapped around his finger, so Jongin doesn?t feel the necessity to enunciate it anymore for Kyungsoo as it would only evoke nothing but more pride, and Jongin doesn?t need to feel more of an idiot in this.
Their lips continue to mold themselves around each other, and when Kyungsoo licks the seam of Jongin?s lower lip to ask for an entrance, Jongin parts his lips to allow Kyungsoo?s tongue to graze at his own. When Jongin hooks his lifted leg around Kyungsoo?s waist, Kyungsoo grinds his nether region against Jongin?s, the friction causing Jongin to gasp into Kyungsoo?s mouth.
All that Jongin knows is that he doesn?t need to curb the escalating libido anymore for somehow they?ve ended up in Kyungsoo?s room, their clothes a trail that comes from the living room, leading to the bed where they are both bare, skin exposed, warmth mingling within the proximity.
All that Jongin knows is that he commences shouting Kyungsoo?s name as Kyungsoo is inside him, the cadence something that?s both familiar and unfamiliar for him for the last time he did it, he did it for the sake of relieving himself?for the sake of physical necessities. This time he doesn?t count the moments until release spills between his thighs, or until his own hand, wrapped around his length, is coated with the sticky residue of the respite. Instead, he relishes in having Kyungsoo within him, losing himself in the novelty that the moment proffers, measuring the infinitesimal to none of the distance which spans between him and Kyungsoo as they both bask in the rhythm.
At the end of it, instead of falling straight to slumber, Jongin interlaces his fingers with Kyungsoo?s, his nose buried against the crook of Kyungsoo?s neck as he inhales the other male?s scent and counts the fall and rise of Kyungsoo?s chest, wanting to preserve it in his mind. It?s a form of relief that he hasn?t encountered for quite a good expanse of time in his life, and he thinks that yes, he needs it. He needs someone like Kyungsoo. He needs to face the fact that maybe he?s indeed in too deep?that he?s indeed infatuated by this someone.
They spend their days on the weekend exchanging their styles of murder; with Jongin letting Kyungsoo teach him about precisions when it comes to killing the victim with only one clean shot, while Jongin shares with Kyungsoo the splendor that comes from the way blood sprays across his face, the scent of copper invading his senses after a good series of bashing the skull?Jongin?s favorite target point. He even lends Kyungsoo his favorite baseball bat, which hasn?t been touched by anyone else since it was purchased since Jongin considers the item sacred, bathed in the blood of his victims.
On the weekend nights, they would lay themselves under the vastness of the open sky, pitch black with specks of stars glimmering across the expanse. And Jongin would curl against Kyungsoo, legs tangled between Kyungsoo?s as their lips and tongues meet. They would lazily make out under the constellations, with Jongin feeling pseudo romantic and extremely content with the development and simplicity of their relationship. There?s no name written to their relationship, but there?s something about the interludes in between their lives that Jongin has learned to appreciate; there?s no label, but there?s something about the personal sphere kept between them that Jongin has learned to revel.
Stage Five
It starts with phone calls ending in voicemails, unreturned texts, and the absence of routine that?s too glaring for Jongin to ignore. There?s no more stargazing, no more mutual murdering sessions. And when Jongin comes to Kyungsoo?s house, there?s no one to answer the door, and the car isn?t there in the driveway. Unease indubitably settles within him, for he doesn?t really know how to locate the other male and he doesn?t have anyone that connects him to Kyungsoo but the syndicate. However, asking around for now would be too risky, especially since the syndicate normally doesn?t disclose information of their members to the others.
So when he finds Baekhyun leaning against his front door one day after performing a kill?messier than usual, bloodier than usual; a product of his frustration?he?s discombobulated, mainly because Baekhyun isn?t supposed to know where he lives, and also because Baekhyun doesn?t visit him out of the blue for a matter that bears no graveness. So when Baekhyun unlatches himself of the door and stands upright, arms unfolded from across his chest, Jongin finds his heartbeat accelerates in anticipation.
?What?s it?? he inquires, almost begging, anticipation building at the pit of his stomach and twisting his insides painfully. There?s a sliver of thoughts that it has any connection with Kyungsoo, for Baekhyun is the only one in the syndicate who knows about their relationship, and that causes Jongin?s mind to go haywire with what ifs. The worst surely doesn?t escape his mind, and he wishes that it isn?t the case.
Baekhyun sighs and places a hand atop Jongin?s shoulder. ?You know I came here to talk about Kyungsoo, right??
?? Yeah.?
?Let?s talk inside. It?s classified information,? he says, and without further ado, Jongin complies. Once they enter the flat, Baekhyun ensures that the door is locked before starting to speak, his volume low. ?Well, Do Kyungsoo??
?Baekhyun, he?s been gone for almost a week. I swear to god that if you prolong this??
?Hey, easy. This is going to be shocking for you, but? he?s? not what you think he is, unless you?ve known. But seeing your reaction to him gone, I suppose you didn?t know,? Baekhyun shrugs, but his face is laden with sympathy. ?Look, he lied to you, all right? He?s? actually the boss?s son.?
?What?? Jongin retorts.
?Yeah, manipulative and cunning,? Baekhyun continues. ?He?s a sociopath. He was basically assigned the task to take you down, whatever the way, to prove his capability. And he chose to use you. Sorry, Jongin.?
?Fuck, hyung, don?t play this joke on me. I know him. He wouldn?t do this to me. Hyung, his parents left him because they racked up debt?and??
?Jongin, listen to me,? Baekhyun cuts him off, hands placed on his shoulders in a strong grip. ?What do I get for relaying false information to you, huh? I get nothing out of this. You gotta believe me. He lied to you about everything; about his parents, his life, whatever he told you.?
?No, no, no. No, hyung, he couldn?t be??
?Listen, I know it?s hard to believe, all right? But you gotta save yourself. Pick yourself up from this?there?s no use dwelling into your relationship with him, whatever it is. He isn?t coming back. He?s been relocated abroad and is now a high class killer.?
There?s nothing that becomes a relief like an incessant series of murders, bloated into carnage, since Jongin has learned to love for only one person...the person that planted thorns between his ribcage. Catharsis comes in the bout of splattered brains and sprayed blood, and he indulges in the head bashing like nothing he?s ever done before?his baseball bat has grown too decrepit for him to use after two years, forcing him to replace it after a week filled with the work placed at a close interval. He?s been driven haywire by the entire predicament, and as much as he?d like to not trust in Baekhyun?s words, everything about it seems too plausible for him to deny.
Kyungsoo is gone?Kyungsoo isn?t coming back.
And the reminder causes Jongin to grit his teeth, ire simmering in his chest and thoughts running wild. Impulsiveness eventually leads him to meet Yifan at his office, where Yifan pretends that he?s nothing but a normal employee working from nine to five. Yifan seems nearly surprised, but his expression is placid again soon after, as though he?s expected Jongin to come.
?I need to know Kyungsoo?s whereabouts.? Jongin doesn?t delay once they?re inside the storage room that Yifan believes is safe from eavesdroppers.
Yifan seems pensive for a good moment, before shaking his head. ?We can?t disclose that, especially when it comes to the boss?s son,? and Jongin swears that there?s a flicker of amusement in Yifan?s eyes. He?s no reader, but Jongin swears that it?s there.
?Hyung, I really, really need it,? he tries again. ?Just? this once. I won?t ask for your help any other time.?
?Sorry, Jongin, we can?t disclose such information.? His answer is firm, final.
There?s another bout of pleading coming from Jongin, which is embarrassing, but he eventually comes home without having Kyungsoo?s whereabouts revealed to him. Yifan is vehement on saying no, and promises to assign a new task to Jongin as soon as possible.
Japan.
He?s back to the cursed country, Jongin thinks as he sourly meanders through the crowd, trying to appease his loneliness a little by being amidst a crowd. It does nothing, though; if anything, it makes him feel even lonelier, but at least work is there to keep him company. He?s gotten three more jobs to finish during his stay, and that?s more than enough to reassure him that promotion is within his grasp, but he is no longer as enthusiastic about it?and he blames it on a particular someone whom he really wishes he could strangle now.
And just right when he thinks about Kyungsoo, he sees a sliver of the male in the throng, and they exchange surprised gazes. Jongin comes to a complete halt, startled, and it takes him several seconds before he registers what?s even going on, feet dashing through the horde of pedestrians to come after Kyungsoo. The smaller male takes no time to pivot on his heel as well, making a panic run from Jongin, causing Jongin?s frustration to grow tenfold.
?Hey! Do Kyungsoo!? Jongin shouts at him, but to no avail.
Just like that, he?s lost Kyungsoo again, and still panting, Jongin tries his best to ensure himself that he hasn?t gone insane?that Kyungsoo wasn?t a figment of his imagination.
His first kill goes smoothly; he turns the man into a sandbag to deliver his wrath over the entire Kyungsoo debacle, his knuckles becoming his weapon for nothing is as liberating as feeling a part of his body comes in contact with violence, the point of impact turned into something so personal that his victim?s pained voice has become a string of melodies. For the ending, he simply slits the man?s throat and disembowels him, intestines becoming Jongin?s game item as he pulls it out of the man?s stomach, increasing the difficulty of the cleaner?s job.
The second kill is even more prolonged as he decides to inscribe the woman?s initials all over her body after stabbing her chest twice, blood embellishing her surroundings too well like a huge halo that Jongin appreciates. He even lingers longer around the scene to bask in the sight, to revel in his masterpiece.
The third kill, however, reminds him too much of the scene that makes his insides crawl. It happens in a hotel, where the man has been too careless to let him in despite the absence of knowledge regarding his identity. He tries erasing the worry, though, for such a thing can interrupt his holy process while he carefully drags his knife down after impaling the throat, right at the Adam?s apple, creating a gash deep enough to disable the man from screaming. There?s this ticking reminder to simply look around, to ensure that he?s alone, but he cannot for the entire ceremony doesn?t allow him to?a single moment of weakness, and the victim could use it as an opportunity to escape.
So when somehow, someone, bashes the back of his head with a vase, Jongin is barely surprised. Kyungsoo?s forte is in the form of stealth and accuracy, so Jongin has expected him to come unnoticed. He lands with a soft thud against the hardwood floor, a whimper escaping his lips and swallowed by the hollow thump thump thump that?s elicited by the man?s skull as a baseball bat comes in contact with it. Jongin watches as he lies on the floor, vision blurred but clear enough to make out the shape of the intruder. He whispers a quiet ?Kyungsoo?? before passing out.
He doesn?t wake up in a motel. Instead, he is in a hospital where everything smells like medicine and the food is too insipid to swallow. A nurse tells him in broken Korean that his ?cousin? sent him here after an accident that involves falling down two flights and hitting his head against the corner of the stair.
Stage Six
Jongin runs his fingers through his already disheveled dark locks as he vacates the airport, his backpack the only belonging that he brings with him. He halts a taxi and tells him his address, his trip long and quiet. It reminds him too much of his apartment, so when his arrival is welcomed with a similar amount of silence, he?s barely concerned.
Except for the fact that there is a bouquet of flowers (ones which Jongin definitely still has no idea on what types) in warm colors, and a card. Picking it up, he flips the card open to find the (un)expected.
Get well soon. Coffee? Meet me at the caf? across the road 9 AM tomorrow.
Title: Blood Scarcity
Pairings: Kai/D.O, side!Baekhyun/Luhan
Rating: R
Word Count: 9,098
Warnings: Blood, gore, mature content
Summary: In the intersection between his personal and blood-bathed lives, Kim Jongin meets a foreign concept called love.
Author’s Note: I'm taking a little liberty with the prompt but I hope it doesn't deviate too much from the main point, and it might seem a little rushed but I hope that you'd like it anyway! TT Special thanks to A for betaing the entire thing for me; C and several other people who have been reading it throughout the process for me and encouraging me while I was whining. Thank you!
Stage One
At this rate, Jongin is pretty positive that Kyungsoo has noticed his presence.
Because of the three stops that the R8 has come to, Jongin?s sleek white Gallardo halts as well. It?s when the black sedan heads to the fourth stop that Jongin?s anticipation escalates?it?s almost the time and Yifan is never late. To say that Jongin is an expert in this stalking business would be too much of an overstatement, so he just labels Do Kyungsoo as another dense target, trying to make a name for himself in this world. Before Jongin even realizes, Kyungsoo will be gone from the list within the blink of an eye because it?s a given? he?s far too oblivious to what?s happening around him.
The car is eventually pulled to the curb and the owner makes his way to the tiny diner located at the periphery of the city. How quaint, Jongin muses as he takes notes of how Kyungsoo walks.
He has this air of innocent charm which resembles that of a kid?s, and Jongin isn?t certain what to make of it. He is a skillful artist when it comes to painting a death scene, but he?s no reader when it comes to living souls?and souls he?d like to stay alive. Upon perusing Kyungsoo?s back, Jongin has come to the decision that Kyungsoo is still not a threat, just like the first impression that the other male emanated.
He paces his car to the nearest parking lot, vehicle looking glaring amidst the row of cars parked there but he couldn?t care less. Unlike Kyungsoo, his car is there purely because he needs something to solidify his liquid cash, and maybe it has something to do with his penchant for impudence. This car is a manifestation of his status in this livelihood of his, a pedestal that not everyone can reach?not even this Kyungsoo. His R8 is just a product of luck.
Leaning against the side of the car, he lights his cigarette and shoves his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans, watching as the swirl of fumes billow from his mouth. At the taste of tobacco caressing the insides of his mouth, bidding him with an early flavor of the day, he hums. There?s something about the routine which makes him feel like he has the world within the expanse of his palm, powerful enough to step on the moralities which he knows still nestle somewhere within him?ones which he?d like to incinerate.
He gives Kyungsoo ten minutes before stubbing his cigarette on the nearest trashcan and making his way to the diner. Yifan doesn?t like spending too much time on low class people like them?a status which won?t stay with Jongin for a prolonged time for he?s been imbued with the crown among these peasants. There is a promise of a raise looming over him.
Just as expected, Kyungsoo walks out of the diner with a brown envelope in hand, face still as clueless as when he entered the establishment. He dons a really good poker face if Jongin has to be honest, but he dislikes admitting anyone?s strengths.
With the hood on his hoodie drawn, Jongin prepares himself for the run, eyes observing as Kyungsoo makes his way back to his car. That?s when Jongin dashes towards his target, snatching the envelope from the unaware hand, and by the time Kyungsoo realizes what?s befallen him (and doesn?t have the bravery to shout for help as what?s inside the envelope cannot be leaked to anyone), Jongin is already far from Kyungsoo?s standpoint.
Hiding in a dank alley just next to the road of the diner, Jongin pants lightly, leaning against the wall. He opens the envelope with anticipation escalating, as though it?s his Christmas gift, and sees a brand new file and a set of pictures. A complete profile.
A smile paints itself on his lips before he watches as the R8 disappears down the street, wallowing in regrets as to why the owner hasn?t been careful enough with his prized possession.
The redolence of blood invades his senses in an acute manner, ensuring Jongin that he?s on the right path. A trickle of euphoria surges into him as he sighs and clacks his tongue against the palate of his mouth in satisfaction. His lips curve into a smug smile when he?s certain that his victim is only half conscious, his own knuckles throbbing with triumph and the knife in his hand screaming for more blood to coat it as some drips onto the damp ground of the dank alley.
His victim is still awake, conscious, but maybe the blows that Jongin has previously inflicted on him etches a sense of lingering dizziness that won?t go away anytime soon?just how Jongin likes it. The man is slumped on the ground, half-limp, and that?s Jongin?s cue to reach for the bat that he?s left at the end of the alley.
Returning to the man with his beloved weapon in hand, he drives the first hit against the side of the skull, transmitting all of his force into his arms to evoke a crisp sound echoed against the decrepit brick walls. Warm blood splatters, covering his black worn-out jeans and sweatshirt, mingling with his sweat. At this rate, the man?s heart is no longer beating, but Jongin is never content without a good bout of smashing.
A crime scene is never good enough without an immense amount of blood.
Jongin is exactly the type of assassin that the cleaners despise.
When Yifan accepts his polaroids, there isn?t any amount of surprise dribbling into his features anymore. It?s a common practice for Jongin to steal people?s targets, and as long as Jongin has the polaroids, he has the money.
?Yixing?s, Jongdae?s, and Kyungsoo?s,? Yifan notices, murmuring the names under his breath.
?Yep,? Jongin replies in a cheeky manner, although Yifan probably hasn?t been speaking to him. Yifan looks up, as if confused, before nodding understandingly. The man has a habit to look puzzled whenever and wherever he goes, so Jongin isn?t entirely confounded by how such a man with an incredibly significant role can wear such an expression albeit the vast knowledge that he certainly holds.
And Jongin waits?waits for the news to come. He?s been sitting at the summit of this competition for god knows how long now; he should?ve been promoted by now. But instead of shaking Jongin?s hand and telling him that he?s now no longer a lower class, Yifan falls into the routine of writing Jongin his check. The sound of his pen scribbling on the paper is deafening for Jongin, and there?s no awaited confirmation even after it?s over. Instead, Yifan saunters out of the private room of the prestigious restaurant, not bothering finishing his avant garde meal.
There is ire brewing in his chest when he steals Kyungsoo?s targets for the third time, for the more his promotion is delayed, the more he?s tempted to rob the newcomers of their job. And it?s dark, drizzling with a chance of solid downpour laden in the evening sky when Jongin corners Kyungsoo against his R8. Kyungsoo?s uncanny calmness grates at his nerves; it surely doesn?t fulfill what Jongin has come for. Under his hood, his smile is wiped entirely off his face, replaced with an unsatisfied scowl as he waits for that stolidity to be replaced with trepidation.
But none of his expectations come true, leaving Jongin crestfallen within a fraction of second as he, again, snatches the paper bag from Kyungsoo?s hand. Kyungsoo shows not much of a resistance, only glancing down for a split moment before facing Jongin again, still as stoic as before.
A hopefully taunting grin pulls the corners of Jongin?s lips while he derisively waves the bag in front of Kyungsoo?s face, mocking the other male childishly. ?Aren?t you going to take this back??
Kyungsoo shakes his head, expression almost placid, not struggling even a bit with Jongin?s arm still propped horizontally against his shoulders, wedging his small frame against the arm and the hood of his own car. ?No. You?ll take it anyway.?
?Two months and no kill. You don?t fit in this world, kid. Go home to your filthy rich parents.? There?s a twitch of muscles nearby Kyungsoo?s eyes, and it?s enough of a response for Jongin. He triumphantly takes a few steps back, loaded gun in his previously empty hand, barrel pointed at Kyungsoo. ?Go on, scram.?
And Kyungsoo gives him one last look before pivoting on his heel and getting into his car, driving away.
Jongin swears he saw a smile curled on the other?s lips before Kyungsoo?s departure.
Stage Two
Japan feels a lot more crowded than the streets of Seoul. Though maybe it?s nothing but a figment of Jongin?s imagination. The throng seems a lot more enthusiastic and the fallen leaves scatter across the sidewalk in a higher density, as though there?s no room for loneliness apart from that in Jongin?s chest. He?s still hollow despite the immensity of company that enshrouds him. But he?s not here to burrow himself in this pile of self-pity, as he must carry himself with the poise while he does his job; this time, it?s not stolen. Not everyone from the lower class is allocated with jobs abroad?and it grants Jongin a sense of confidence, ensuring himself that his raise is an inch away from his grasp.
The scent of fall is always his favorite, for it complements the dulcet smell of decay, rusting and coating his favorite pair of gloves. He paces himself faster, eager for another performance to prove his capability. It?s been long since the last time he?s been doused with fervor, so he wants to waste no time. The quicker that he gets to the rendezvous point with the victim, the more time he can spend on crafting his magnum opus, and Jongin doesn?t want to upset his Polaroid camera this time.
The hotel where the meeting is being held is grandiose, and Jongin tries chasing away the unease that creeps into the pit of his stomach. Despite the inconsequential row of digits in his bank, sometimes he feels as though he doesn?t belong in this kind of place; a huge fragment of him is still attached to his past, where home is defined by the simplicity of human presence, where his mother would sit him on her lap and read him a series of bedtime stories.
He schools his demeanor into a calm one, clearing his throat as he walks into the elevator with a horde of business people, expressions all mirroring smugness Jongin cannot stand?which is rich coming from himself. But Jongin has been told that people learn to despise the qualities in others that they can actually find in themselves. It?s hardly the matter within the moment though, so he fixates his focus on the screen with the changing numbers, counting as the elevator ascends.
When the ding notifies him that he?s reached the thirty-second floor, he exits the carrier and heads towards the designated room. He knocks on it three times, and it doesn?t take long until the victim (Yamano something, Jongin doesn?t retain insignificant details in his mind) opens the door for him, formal smile perching on the older male?s full lips. He?s this plump man, lips stained with the hint of too many cigars and stomach with too much beer. He reminds Jongin of his late father?the perfect victim for a perfect opportunity.
A little chitchat here and there, Jongin ensures that the door is locked. The room seems soundproof enough to begin the bloodshed, but he?d like to think that he?s successfully muffled the man?s mouth as he pushes the man against the wall, the first stab lacerating his throat with a deadly precision, slicing through the trachea with the smoothness that becomes Jongin?s ecstasy.
The second stab is almost fully impaled into the man?s chest (a part of many which will later form a crucifix; a morbid crime scene for his masterpiece) when Jongin notices the presence of someone else?a little too late for the said person has smashed something (which maybe is a vase, Jongin isn?t sure) against Jongin?s skull. He lands onto the wooden floor with a thud, something warm oozing from the base of his head, trickling down his neck.
In his blurry sight is someone in all black, and Jongin abhors their existence as the intruder finishes the man with a gun, a bullet causing a spread of a clattered halo to form on the wall.
The first thing that he notices upon stirring from his somewhat tight slumber is the pain that throbs at the base of his skull, a reminder of what happened back in the hotel room. He cringes, blinking several times to adjust his vision, the decrepit ceiling stark and colored with splinters of lights filtering through the blinds. It?s a really low class hotel if not a motel, he notices?the pungent stench of alcohol and medicines invade his senses almost right away, and he furrows his eyebrows.
There?s only a lapse for around a minute or two before the door swings open, exposing the presence of a person who?s too familiar for Jongin. ?Kyungsoo?? His voice is strained, nearly inaudible due to his throat being parched. Disbelief laces his tone, complementing his slightly widened eyes.
?Hi,? Kyungsoo says as he closes the door behind him. He looks so much like a child with his plain black sweatshirt and black pants?Jongin swears he never sees Kyungsoo donning another color of clothing. ?Awake and alive?? he asks, voice painted with familiarity that isn?t mutual on Jongin?s part, teasing.
?Yeah,? he replies, confusion bleeding through the curt answer. ?What? happened??
?Well, I believe someone had to avenge their loss.?
?So?why didn?t you kill me?? Jongin asks a second after digesting what Kyungsoo means. ?Or leave me there bleeding? Let the police find me.?
Kyungsoo chuckles and it makes Jongin feel extremely stupid. Jongin sends him a glare, which Kyungsoo responds to by lifting both hands, as though telling Jongin that he?s surrendered as he closes the gap between them. Kyungsoo folds his arms across his chest and leans against the wall next to Jongin?s bed, the gap between the bed and the wall barely enough for a chair.
?Simple. I don?t wish to cause more hassle for you?cleaned the crime scene from your blood as well. Be thankful,? Kyungsoo discloses, evoking nothing but a raise of eyebrows on Jongin?s behalf. ?We?re colleagues. Why don?t we?be friends.?
Jongin scoffs, palpably amused by the suggestion. ?There?s no camaraderie in this world. This isn?t high school, so you can bring your friendly ass back to your rich society and make friends there.?
At that, Kyungsoo simply shrugs, nonchalance profusely emitted from his figure. ?There?s food on the table. Get well soon.?
And he leaves the room after smiling too politely at Jongin, leaving his most recent victim bewildered.
Returning to Seoul, the discombobulation still swarms in Jongin?s head, thoughts swimming in the ocean of probabilities as he wonders about the reasoning behind Kyungsoo?s action. He probably should?ve inquired about this kid before underestimating him? maybe Yifan knows a thing or two. Jongin has done his research from all the stalking, certainly, but there are surely heaps of holes missed?he only knows the whereabouts of Kyungsoo?s mansion, and the fact that Kyungsoo barely gets out of it save for doing his job. He knows Kyungsoo?s schedules after paying someone to do the observation, but nothing more than that.
Jongin runs his fingers through his already disheveled dark locks as he vacates the airport, his backpack the only belonging that he brings with him. He halts a taxi and tells him his address, the trip long and quiet. It reminds him too much of his apartment, so when his arrival is welcomed with a similar amount of silence, he?s barely concerned.
Except for the fact that there is a bouquet of flowers (ones which Jongin definitely has no idea on what types) in warm colors, and a card. Picking it up, he flips the card open to find the somewhat expected.
Get well soon. Coffee? Meet me at the caf? across the road 9 AM tomorrow.
Jongin ensures himself that he?s not interested in the whole friendship business?Kim Jongin doesn?t do friends. So when he finds himself crossing the road just a little after nine in the morning on the next day, he blames his curiosity for nagging at him too much.
Kyungsoo is already there, clad in another set of black attire, with a smile too friendly tugging the corners of his lips again. Jongin has grown accustomed to it, prizing himself in his rapid adaptation, especially towards this male?s antics. A sour expression sits on Jongin?s face in return to the gesture, settling on the seat next to the other male without a word spoken.
?Hi,? Kyungsoo chirrups out. ?How?s your head??
?Why are we meeting here?? Jongin retorts.
A shrug. Another display of nonchalance. ?Coffee hangout. Isn?t that what friends do??
?We?re not friends.?
?Oh, but we are. You wouldn?t have come if we weren?t,? he lilts, aggravating Jongin more. ?So, let?s start again, shall we? How?s your head??
?It?s fine,? Jongin begrudgingly replies, feeling idiotic in the face of the other male, chastising himself inwardly for coming in the first place. But what?s been done cannot be undone, and lamentation doesn?t do him much good either. ?Why are you so? insistent on being friends with me??
?Nothing,? and a bead of a terse chuckle escapes his lips. ?I just want a friend. Is that too much to ask??
?From me, yes. I don?t do friends.?
?Yet you still came.?
?Stop using it as an excuse.?
?It?s not an excuse?I?m merely stating the fact.? Kyungsoo?s replies are composed, not allowing even a fissure of annoyance, making Jongin seem like just an airhead in front of Kyungsoo.
Jongin despises the situation, so instead of admitting his utter defeat, he simply busies himself with the menu albeit already having in mind what he?s going to order. At his sultry expression, Kyungsoo laughs and shakes his head.
?You?re a funny one, Kim Jongin.?
?Shut up. I?m not,? he speaks through his gritted teeth. ?Next time I steal from you, I?ll ruin your teeth.?
?Oh, right. Because you?re extremely capable of that,? Kyungsoo nods, eyes glinting with mirth. ?Sorry I messed with your grand performance, by the way. The stab was? beautiful. I would?ve stayed to watch more but I had a job to finish myself.?
?I?ll never forgive you for it,? he says, grunting. ?It was a plan that I?d prepared for a week, you fuck.?
Another chuckle, and Jongin elbows him not so gently along with tossing him a glare. That only amplifies the intensity of Kyungsoo?s chuckle though, and he fakes a pained look that makes Jongin unable to hold his own amused grin.
Stage Three
There?s something about Kyungsoo which attracts him like an incantation?it could be how the other male seems so relaxed, yet he?s far more capable than what Jongin initially expected. The hit with the vase has indicated that Kyungsoo is far from his first impression (which is profusely accented with the lack of aptitude), and when Kyungsoo shoots Jongin?s target with a sniper gun just a second before Jongin has the chance to smash the side of the head with his baseball bat, Jongin knows that the game is on.
?You started it first. You stole two of my targets within less than a month,? Kyungsoo says with amusement obviously written all over his facial features, taking a sip of his homemade coffee as he sits on Jongin?s couch. Those eyes are too big, Jongin notes. And those lips are too full, too?shapely. He?s learned to nitpick about Kyungsoo?s face too well.
?Technically one,? Jongin corrects. ?The other one was a coincidence. I was told to kill his syndicate, so when there was another one, I thought one of you would?ve been assigned to kill that one?so I might as well just take out both.?
?Damn, you could?ve stolen from the wrong person,? Kyungsoo shudders, but the levity doesn?t dissipate from his voice.
?There?s no wrong person in my case.? Jongin shakes his head, folding his legs against his chest as he makes himself comfortable on the armchair adjacent to the couch.
?I heard someone named Byun Baekhyun would wipe you off planet earth if you do so much as touch his target with a finger.?
?Yeah. Baekhyun and I? We?re buddies.?
Kyungsoo crinkles his nose at that. ?You said you don?t do friends.?
?I don?t think buddies equate friends,? he shrugs before imbibing his lukewarm coffee. ?We simply tolerate each other?in a way that we at least would allow each other to steal and we won?t end each other?s lives because of it. We started off during a similar time?more than two years ago though?and I guess solidarity forms itself when you share so many difficulties.?
A lapse of silence. ?That?s?deep,? Kyungsoo comments, seemingly truthful. ?What are we, then? Are we buddies??
At that, Jongin falls into a pause, staring at his coffee table. ?I?m?I think we?re?? and he rummages through his mind, seeking the right word to place between them, defining the brief yet comfortable relationship that has grown into a fragment of Jongin?s life. ??friends. I think we are, yeah,? he eventually concedes to the usage of the word, tentatively casting his gaze onto Kyungsoo.
And there is a huge grin splitting his face, and Jongin thinks Kyungsoo?s heart-shaped lips look odd, yet the kind of odd which proffers him something akin to solace?it?s a shape that Jongin could get used to. Within the fraction of the moment, Jongin wonders how in the world Kyungsoo ended up in such a world, splattered with crimson debris and livid corpses; where the vermilion and periwinkle that they know of happen to be derived from the face of carnage.
?Thank you, Jongin.?
Jongin doesn?t admit to himself that he?s lonely until he shows up a lot more often in front of Kyungsoo?s door, sometimes with paper cups filled with their favorite coffee choices, sometimes drenched with the rainwater, seeking shelter used as another excuse to meet the older male. His loneliness has never felt so glaring until he decides to latch onto the only person whom he?s opened up to as of late, missing the connections with human beings no matter how detached he?s made himself to be.
In order to be a killer, one must kill a part of themselves, or something along that line?Jongin cannot remember precisely, but it?s a quote that he?s read somewhere, and tattooed on his mind, for it always rings true.
There was a part of himself that he lost forever after his very first job; melancholically put, there was a part of him that he?d murdered alongside the man who didn?t even have the courage to run, staying there and waiting for his death at the end of Jongin?s gun. (Later on, he learned that it wasn?t the absence of courage?it was the presence of it, for bravery isn?t about fleeing, but about facing what?s inevitable, despite knowing the consequence.)
He remembered blinking when the bullet sliced through the victim?s head, particles of brain mattersprayed all across the wallpaper causing his stomach to lurch. He remembered the painful hunching over the toilet after cleaning himself, purging his dinner. Maybe he also vomited that part of himself along with the unfinished meal?at least anxiety had had the audacity to stop him from gobbling his food prior, or else he would?ve lost more of himself during the prolonged process. Amidst splashing a gowpen of water on his face and scrutinizing the weary lines of his features, he promised that it would be the last time he would appear so weak, so sickly, facial features lacquered with apparent fear and guilt.
None of those would do him any good in this world.
(And he needed the money to survive.)
Jongin wonders if Kyungsoo has experienced what he did, so as he?s sprawled on Kyungsoo?s couch with his cup of coffee placed on the floor, he observes the other male as Kyungsoo reads a thick textbook for college work. From this close, he seems like the quintessence of a pristine image, of an ideal son within the high-end society. It?s as though his humanity still clings to him like a second layer of skin, unblemished, and Jongin isn?t certain whether to envy him or be skeptical towards him and his innocence.
?Is there any particular reason as to why you like staring at me?? Kyungsoo asks, shattering the silence that previously blankets the living room. His eyes are still fixed on his textbook, but the mischievous smile perching on his lips is telltale.
When the chagrin splatters a blush of crimson all over his cheeks, Jongin isn?t surprised. There is something incredibly intimate about staring regardless of the intention behind it, and Jongin finds it a gaffe to stare for as long as he has. He immediately averts his gaze, but the hurry does nothing but expose more of how embarrassed he is, and he can hear Kyungsoo?s repressed laughter fills the air for the place is still doused with quiet.
He glares at Kyungsoo and their eyes meet. That?s when Kyungsoo discards his textbook and places it on the coffee table, getting up from the couch and steps towards Jongin. When the distance is crossed, he looms over Jongin, back bent with his arms folded, as though observing Jongin from up close, eyes nearly unblinking but there?s a hint of joke laden in his tugged lips.
At that, something like nervousness brews at the pit of Jongin?s stomach, and watching the other male this close, Jongin has it in his mind a sliver of thought of just how those lips would taste against his?just an innocent wishful thought which sends his eyes to flutter close a little, just a little?but that?s enough as a clue for Kyungsoo as he makes Jongin?s thought come true.
When their lips meet in a soft collision, Jongin almost loses his balance, and all that he knows next is having Kyungsoo?s knees straddling his thighs, Kyungsoo?s back arched as he bends down to mold their lips together. And with the too-shaped, too-soft of a pair of lips desperately try merging itself against Jongin?s coffee-stained, chapped, lips, he thinks that this is it.
This is how it feels to be less lonely, less alone.
Their liplock advances, with little nips and licks, and for someone with such a juvenile impression, Kyungsoo is surprisingly bold?almost aggressive. Jongin doesn?t mind, though, for there are things that his usually self-sufficient courage cannot bring himself to do?things like this, which are definitely out of his forte. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, seems like he?s done this a myriad of times before, and the prediction itself etches jealousy within Jongin, but he rushes and deletes the thought from his mind as he cannot afford to ruin the moment for himself.
Jongin kissed. Jongin made out. Jongin had sex. None of it held any meaning, but this one does (at least he?d like to think that this peculiarity of stomach butterflies that occur to him does hold a meaning), and he doesn?t entirely know if it?s a good thing for things have escalated, fallen out of his hands like granules of sand escaping the gaps between his spread out fingers.
It does feel like it holds a meaning when Kyungsoo?s hand cups his face and thumb caresses the expanse of his cheekbone, the gentleness something entirely new in his life. While it reminds him of his mother?s touch, her fingers raking through his hair as she hummed an old song to escort him to slumber, there is something foreign that it contains, and it makes Jongin even more nervous yet there is a positive anticipation simmering within, leaving him conflicted. But instead of dwelling in the dilemmatic source, Jongin chooses to revel in the contact, in the way their lips try merging themselves against each other, shifting back and forth with the dominance but Kyungsoo is more adamant, as though attempting to convey something that Jongin doesn?t wish to fathom right now.
When their lips finally part and their breath mingles with each other?s within the proximity, Jongin looks at the other male in disbelief, slowly digesting what they both have done. Kyungsoo, on the other hand, doesn?t seem too dazed by his own caprice.
?What?the hell??Jongin mutters, but realizes that he himself has benefited from the kiss so he shuts his mouth, and stares at Kyungsoo instead. ?We just kissed,? he states the obvious after a few seconds of staring, which indubitably etches another bout of embarrassment in Jongin.
?Yeah, we did,? Kyungsoo agrees, seemingly entertained by Jongin?s confounded look. ?And I?m also on top of you, Jongin.?
?But?kissed,? Jongin insists, ignoring the mirth that dances in Kyungsoo?s sentence and expression. ?You kissed me.?
?I did.?
?And??
?And?? Kyungsoo?s eyebrows are quirked, confused by Jongin?s words.
?Shouldn?t it?I?never mind. Could you? Could you please get off me? I need to go to the bathroom.?
At the end of the day, when he fixes his gaze at his ceiling?stark and lonely?with his cheeks still feeling like there is residual embarrassment that the awkwardness has incised on him, Jongin believes that he?s scared. That?s true; even after bloodlust is infused in his veins, brutality rimming his mind with the mentality of a killer where life and death make no difference in him?except when it?s his, for he still values his life, values the mundane edges, value the decadence?he?s still scared of something so trivial. Something so?mindless.
Hasn?t love been a concept so hackneyed that people glorify to the point of being overrated? Jongin has deemed it out of his league a long time ago, despite the knowledge of the longing that was still there, despite miniscule, within him. He?s always seen it as something too clich?, that he should be better off without it.
But no, no. He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in distress.
It shouldn?t be love?he couldn?t love someone whom he only knows for a little less than three months, but romantic feelings are definitely there. They?ve been blooming, uninvited, and Jongin feels like clawing his insides out to try and regurgitate the feelings, back to point zero where he feels nothing. Feeling nothing is easier, for he doesn?t have to feel dependent on someone. Dependence is toxic, dependence is suicidal. Dependence isn?t something that he can afford.
His reverie is disrupted by the sound of the constant vibration from his phone against the hard plane of the nightstand. Groaning, he seizes the device, but the annoyance doesn?t linger for too long upon seeing who is calling.
He has to fight the urge to smile, mentally scolding himself for it. ?Hello? Do you know what time it is??
Jongin?s half-joking and half-irritated question is cut halfway by the sound of Kyungsoo?s chuckle, and Jongin has to bitterly swallow down to stop himself from chortling along. ?I know, I know. Sorry, you grump,? he says, but from his tone Jongin can tell that he isn?t truly apologetic. There?s then silence as Jongin waits for Kyungsoo to continue, since his own throat feels slightly constricted. ?I just called to say?sorry. Yeah. For kissing you?I?m sorry.?
You don?t have to, Jongin wants to say, but nothing comes out from him.
?It?s okay. Just give me one of your targets in return,? he says instead, tone implying that he?s joking but there?s a hint of seriousness in it.
A sigh. A heavy one. ?That?s all that you?ve got in your mind, isn?t it?? Kyungsoo asks.
?Yeah, I need the money. Unlike you.? His answer is half-assed, but when there?s another pause wedged in the conversation, Jongin feels that he might or might not have hurt Kyungsoo with it.
?I need the money too,? he eventually divulges. ?My parents are in debt. They?re running away, leaving me alone. It?s about time that they take away my house and car if I can?t pay back the loan.?
?? Oh.?
?Yeah.. So?I suppose this job would be the easiest way out. My parents borrowed quite a number.?
At this, Jongin isn?t entirely sure of what to say. His father was never present in his family; Jongin was a product of a one night stand, but his mother was a wonderful parent until her death, so he couldn?t ask for a better family. He certainly has ever wished of having both parents, but in Kyungsoo?s case it doesn?t seem much like a fairytale either.
?Anyway,? Kyungsoo clears his throat, snapping Jongin out of his musing. ?I?m not calling to tell you about the sob story of my life. I guess?take this as you will, Jongin, but I like you. The kiss?it meant something.?
Stage Four
Jongin can?t think? to the point where he seeks out Baekhyun of all people because Baekhyun is the only person he has, sad enough to say. Or not really; he has someone called Sehun from the blurs of his adolescence, but Sehun disconnected every filament between them once he had found out what his childhood friend was doing to survive. He could?ve gone and visited Sehun in his student apartment, but another rejection is more than what Jongin can handle right now.
They?re still a bit bloodstained after finishing Baekhyun?s latest job to incinerate the existence of a gang, the cacophony of pained screams still fresh in Jongin?s ears and the sight of oxblood marring the chipped paint of his baseball bat still haunting his vision. This reminds Jongin of their younger days, when they would still share their daily predicaments without having to see each other as competitors to get to the top?to get their promotions. Smoking on a building?s rooftop, feet dangling off the edge of the ledge, as though telling death that they?re not afraid of it?and they aren?t, for they?ve been playing a game with it for a little too long to actually fear the arrival of their time.
Watching as another collection of smokes streams from Baekhyun?s mouth, billowing and dissipating, he?s still unsure as to why he told Baekhyun that he needed to talk, apart from the diminutive recollection about how Baekhyun managed to separate his job and his life?private life. There is someone called Lu Han in his life, although the male, as far as Jongin remembers, is just a mere baker instead of someone from their world. Thus Jongin isn?t entirely sure as to why he had it in his mind to try and dig some words of advice from Baekhyun, who probably has a totally different case compared to Jongin?s.
?So, are you here to finally push me off the ledge, or what?? Baekhyun eventually asks, tone oozing the trademark boredom.
?Nah,? Jongin shakes his head, taking a deep drag from his burning cigarette. ?If I wanted to kill you, I would?ve done it in a messier way, so that I can lick your blood off my fingers. You know me.?
?Right. So, what?s the business??
?How are you and Lu Han??
?What?? Baekhyun is no longer staring at the skyline, and Jongin has successfully snatched his full attention. ?What about me and Lu Han? We?re fine. Why are you asking??
Jongin falls silent, choosing to secure his focus on somewhere else but Baekhyun. A minute hint of nervousness lines his expression, awkwardly diverting the topic that he?s brought up himself. And that action cannot be more apparent to Baekhyun.
?You?re not? asking me about my love life for advice, right?? Disbelief saturates Baekhyun?s voice, followed by the mirth that accentuates the end of it. There?s a scoff, and then a shrug. ?Do I look like a love guru for you? Man, Jongin, you and your fucking??
?It?s not love advice, per se,? there comes his defense, finally. ?It?s not even love. I don?t love Kyungsoo, you fucking??
?Kyungsoo? Do Kyungsoo? That amateur? You must be fucking kidding me,? Baekhyun chuckles. ?So, tell me, tell me. What?s happened? Did you fuck him shitless and he couldn?t walk for three days??
?No, hyung. Seriously,? he punches Baekhyun?s arm not so playfully, grunting. ?We just? kissed.?
?That?s all?? Baekhyun inquires after finishing laughing at Jongin. ?You kissed and you?re so?fucking?confused you have to look for a love advice from the Byun Baekhyun? Fuck, Jongin. You?re in so deep.?
?I?ll push you off the ledge,? Jongin growls.
?I dare you,? another trail of laughter slips past that mouth. ?But really, Jongin. You?re in too deep.?
?What do you mean, in too deep?? he arches an eyebrow, confusion palpable.
?You?re in too deep. As in you?re possibly in love?at the very least infatuated.?
The first time Jongin meets Kyungsoo again after the kiss is when he notices the familiar sniper gun which targets his victim, but the realization comes too late as the body suddenly has become limp in his grasp, and he shakes his head, fishing out the Polaroid camera out of his backpack to take the picture. And he texts Kyungsoo, asking for a coffee meeting at the nearest coffee shop, where he borrows the bathroom to wash his face with the cold water. He shudders for the temperature that the weather proffers is unforgiving, but he needs it to freeze his mind, preparing himself from the imminent damage that he probably will be taking upon having to converse with Kyungsoo face to face.
When he drags his feet out of the bathroom, Kyungsoo is already there, sitting behind a table propped against one corner of the caf?, looking as childish as ever with his oversized sweater and a shawl too big. He tentatively approaches the other male, before settling himself on the seat adjacent to the other male?s. It?s a little too familiar?the scene. But this time, he?s frozen by the anxiety, unable to return Kyungsoo?s smile. He wrings his hands beneath the table, resting them on his lap, before reminding himself that he?s there for a purpose.
?Hi,? Kyungsoo says, voice laced with joviality as per usual. ?How are you??
?Someone hasn?t bashed me in the head, so I?m good,? he replies, tone stoic but he?s almost smiling. ?Yourself??
?You have quite a sense of humor.? Kyungsoo hums. ?And I?m fine. Why are we meeting here again??
Sighing, he retrieves the Polaroid picture from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to Kyungsoo. ?I believe this is yours.?
?Ah, you took it for me. How kind. Thank you.? Jongin watches him as Kyungsoo pushes it into the pocket of his jeans.
?But it isn?t for you,? he slowly discloses after a moment of silence. He stares on the patterns of the table, wooden surface glossed with lacquer, for meeting Kyungsoo will inevitably inflict something that he doesn?t wish to face for the time being. Too much, he reminds himself. It would be too much. The butterflies fluttering in his stomach, resembling nausea. The anxiety. The anxiety.
?Oh?? Kyungsoo sounds slightly taken aback.
?It?s for me,? he sighs, shaking his head after a brief lapse. Kyungsoo listens. ?I wanted to see you.?
Kyungsoo doesn?t reply, but from his peripheral view, Jongin senses a smile blossoming at the corners of Kyungsoo?s mouth.
?Someone told me that I was in too deep.?
And another bout of silence, until Kyungsoo speaks, his tone loaded with confidence and a little husky edge. ?Did you drive here??
Somehow at the end of the day, Jongin ends up spending his winter evening against someone?s door as Kyungsoo pushes him against the oak surface once they?re in the mansion, lips crashing against each other?s as Kyungsoo?s hand travels from Jongin?s cheek down to his chest, tracing the contours of his torso before going to place itself on the underside of Jongin?s thigh, lifting it against Kyungsoo?s side as Jongin remains passive for the most part save for the fury that his lips display, wanting to devour Kyungsoo?s taste with a chant of more, more, more. He radiates desperation, which is embarrassing, but Jongin has shamed himself enough in front of Kyungsoo to not truly care about it. So when Kyungsoo?s other hand meanders to slip beneath Jongin?s sweatshirt, he?s learned to ignore the heat that pools on both of his cheeks, blood undoubtedly suffused to those areas.
Jongin?s arms are wrapped around Kyungsoo?s neck in insistency that spells out various things, but while despair is prominent, it also speaks something along the line of you bastard, you pulled me in this deep. But Kyungsoo is filled entirely with complacency after what Jongin has said earlier in the coffee shop, knowing too well that he?s gotten Jongin wrapped around his finger, so Jongin doesn?t feel the necessity to enunciate it anymore for Kyungsoo as it would only evoke nothing but more pride, and Jongin doesn?t need to feel more of an idiot in this.
Their lips continue to mold themselves around each other, and when Kyungsoo licks the seam of Jongin?s lower lip to ask for an entrance, Jongin parts his lips to allow Kyungsoo?s tongue to graze at his own. When Jongin hooks his lifted leg around Kyungsoo?s waist, Kyungsoo grinds his nether region against Jongin?s, the friction causing Jongin to gasp into Kyungsoo?s mouth.
All that Jongin knows is that he doesn?t need to curb the escalating libido anymore for somehow they?ve ended up in Kyungsoo?s room, their clothes a trail that comes from the living room, leading to the bed where they are both bare, skin exposed, warmth mingling within the proximity.
All that Jongin knows is that he commences shouting Kyungsoo?s name as Kyungsoo is inside him, the cadence something that?s both familiar and unfamiliar for him for the last time he did it, he did it for the sake of relieving himself?for the sake of physical necessities. This time he doesn?t count the moments until release spills between his thighs, or until his own hand, wrapped around his length, is coated with the sticky residue of the respite. Instead, he relishes in having Kyungsoo within him, losing himself in the novelty that the moment proffers, measuring the infinitesimal to none of the distance which spans between him and Kyungsoo as they both bask in the rhythm.
At the end of it, instead of falling straight to slumber, Jongin interlaces his fingers with Kyungsoo?s, his nose buried against the crook of Kyungsoo?s neck as he inhales the other male?s scent and counts the fall and rise of Kyungsoo?s chest, wanting to preserve it in his mind. It?s a form of relief that he hasn?t encountered for quite a good expanse of time in his life, and he thinks that yes, he needs it. He needs someone like Kyungsoo. He needs to face the fact that maybe he?s indeed in too deep?that he?s indeed infatuated by this someone.
They spend their days on the weekend exchanging their styles of murder; with Jongin letting Kyungsoo teach him about precisions when it comes to killing the victim with only one clean shot, while Jongin shares with Kyungsoo the splendor that comes from the way blood sprays across his face, the scent of copper invading his senses after a good series of bashing the skull?Jongin?s favorite target point. He even lends Kyungsoo his favorite baseball bat, which hasn?t been touched by anyone else since it was purchased since Jongin considers the item sacred, bathed in the blood of his victims.
On the weekend nights, they would lay themselves under the vastness of the open sky, pitch black with specks of stars glimmering across the expanse. And Jongin would curl against Kyungsoo, legs tangled between Kyungsoo?s as their lips and tongues meet. They would lazily make out under the constellations, with Jongin feeling pseudo romantic and extremely content with the development and simplicity of their relationship. There?s no name written to their relationship, but there?s something about the interludes in between their lives that Jongin has learned to appreciate; there?s no label, but there?s something about the personal sphere kept between them that Jongin has learned to revel.
Stage Five
It starts with phone calls ending in voicemails, unreturned texts, and the absence of routine that?s too glaring for Jongin to ignore. There?s no more stargazing, no more mutual murdering sessions. And when Jongin comes to Kyungsoo?s house, there?s no one to answer the door, and the car isn?t there in the driveway. Unease indubitably settles within him, for he doesn?t really know how to locate the other male and he doesn?t have anyone that connects him to Kyungsoo but the syndicate. However, asking around for now would be too risky, especially since the syndicate normally doesn?t disclose information of their members to the others.
So when he finds Baekhyun leaning against his front door one day after performing a kill?messier than usual, bloodier than usual; a product of his frustration?he?s discombobulated, mainly because Baekhyun isn?t supposed to know where he lives, and also because Baekhyun doesn?t visit him out of the blue for a matter that bears no graveness. So when Baekhyun unlatches himself of the door and stands upright, arms unfolded from across his chest, Jongin finds his heartbeat accelerates in anticipation.
?What?s it?? he inquires, almost begging, anticipation building at the pit of his stomach and twisting his insides painfully. There?s a sliver of thoughts that it has any connection with Kyungsoo, for Baekhyun is the only one in the syndicate who knows about their relationship, and that causes Jongin?s mind to go haywire with what ifs. The worst surely doesn?t escape his mind, and he wishes that it isn?t the case.
Baekhyun sighs and places a hand atop Jongin?s shoulder. ?You know I came here to talk about Kyungsoo, right??
?? Yeah.?
?Let?s talk inside. It?s classified information,? he says, and without further ado, Jongin complies. Once they enter the flat, Baekhyun ensures that the door is locked before starting to speak, his volume low. ?Well, Do Kyungsoo??
?Baekhyun, he?s been gone for almost a week. I swear to god that if you prolong this??
?Hey, easy. This is going to be shocking for you, but? he?s? not what you think he is, unless you?ve known. But seeing your reaction to him gone, I suppose you didn?t know,? Baekhyun shrugs, but his face is laden with sympathy. ?Look, he lied to you, all right? He?s? actually the boss?s son.?
?What?? Jongin retorts.
?Yeah, manipulative and cunning,? Baekhyun continues. ?He?s a sociopath. He was basically assigned the task to take you down, whatever the way, to prove his capability. And he chose to use you. Sorry, Jongin.?
?Fuck, hyung, don?t play this joke on me. I know him. He wouldn?t do this to me. Hyung, his parents left him because they racked up debt?and??
?Jongin, listen to me,? Baekhyun cuts him off, hands placed on his shoulders in a strong grip. ?What do I get for relaying false information to you, huh? I get nothing out of this. You gotta believe me. He lied to you about everything; about his parents, his life, whatever he told you.?
?No, no, no. No, hyung, he couldn?t be??
?Listen, I know it?s hard to believe, all right? But you gotta save yourself. Pick yourself up from this?there?s no use dwelling into your relationship with him, whatever it is. He isn?t coming back. He?s been relocated abroad and is now a high class killer.?
There?s nothing that becomes a relief like an incessant series of murders, bloated into carnage, since Jongin has learned to love for only one person...the person that planted thorns between his ribcage. Catharsis comes in the bout of splattered brains and sprayed blood, and he indulges in the head bashing like nothing he?s ever done before?his baseball bat has grown too decrepit for him to use after two years, forcing him to replace it after a week filled with the work placed at a close interval. He?s been driven haywire by the entire predicament, and as much as he?d like to not trust in Baekhyun?s words, everything about it seems too plausible for him to deny.
Kyungsoo is gone?Kyungsoo isn?t coming back.
And the reminder causes Jongin to grit his teeth, ire simmering in his chest and thoughts running wild. Impulsiveness eventually leads him to meet Yifan at his office, where Yifan pretends that he?s nothing but a normal employee working from nine to five. Yifan seems nearly surprised, but his expression is placid again soon after, as though he?s expected Jongin to come.
?I need to know Kyungsoo?s whereabouts.? Jongin doesn?t delay once they?re inside the storage room that Yifan believes is safe from eavesdroppers.
Yifan seems pensive for a good moment, before shaking his head. ?We can?t disclose that, especially when it comes to the boss?s son,? and Jongin swears that there?s a flicker of amusement in Yifan?s eyes. He?s no reader, but Jongin swears that it?s there.
?Hyung, I really, really need it,? he tries again. ?Just? this once. I won?t ask for your help any other time.?
?Sorry, Jongin, we can?t disclose such information.? His answer is firm, final.
There?s another bout of pleading coming from Jongin, which is embarrassing, but he eventually comes home without having Kyungsoo?s whereabouts revealed to him. Yifan is vehement on saying no, and promises to assign a new task to Jongin as soon as possible.
Japan.
He?s back to the cursed country, Jongin thinks as he sourly meanders through the crowd, trying to appease his loneliness a little by being amidst a crowd. It does nothing, though; if anything, it makes him feel even lonelier, but at least work is there to keep him company. He?s gotten three more jobs to finish during his stay, and that?s more than enough to reassure him that promotion is within his grasp, but he is no longer as enthusiastic about it?and he blames it on a particular someone whom he really wishes he could strangle now.
And just right when he thinks about Kyungsoo, he sees a sliver of the male in the throng, and they exchange surprised gazes. Jongin comes to a complete halt, startled, and it takes him several seconds before he registers what?s even going on, feet dashing through the horde of pedestrians to come after Kyungsoo. The smaller male takes no time to pivot on his heel as well, making a panic run from Jongin, causing Jongin?s frustration to grow tenfold.
?Hey! Do Kyungsoo!? Jongin shouts at him, but to no avail.
Just like that, he?s lost Kyungsoo again, and still panting, Jongin tries his best to ensure himself that he hasn?t gone insane?that Kyungsoo wasn?t a figment of his imagination.
His first kill goes smoothly; he turns the man into a sandbag to deliver his wrath over the entire Kyungsoo debacle, his knuckles becoming his weapon for nothing is as liberating as feeling a part of his body comes in contact with violence, the point of impact turned into something so personal that his victim?s pained voice has become a string of melodies. For the ending, he simply slits the man?s throat and disembowels him, intestines becoming Jongin?s game item as he pulls it out of the man?s stomach, increasing the difficulty of the cleaner?s job.
The second kill is even more prolonged as he decides to inscribe the woman?s initials all over her body after stabbing her chest twice, blood embellishing her surroundings too well like a huge halo that Jongin appreciates. He even lingers longer around the scene to bask in the sight, to revel in his masterpiece.
The third kill, however, reminds him too much of the scene that makes his insides crawl. It happens in a hotel, where the man has been too careless to let him in despite the absence of knowledge regarding his identity. He tries erasing the worry, though, for such a thing can interrupt his holy process while he carefully drags his knife down after impaling the throat, right at the Adam?s apple, creating a gash deep enough to disable the man from screaming. There?s this ticking reminder to simply look around, to ensure that he?s alone, but he cannot for the entire ceremony doesn?t allow him to?a single moment of weakness, and the victim could use it as an opportunity to escape.
So when somehow, someone, bashes the back of his head with a vase, Jongin is barely surprised. Kyungsoo?s forte is in the form of stealth and accuracy, so Jongin has expected him to come unnoticed. He lands with a soft thud against the hardwood floor, a whimper escaping his lips and swallowed by the hollow thump thump thump that?s elicited by the man?s skull as a baseball bat comes in contact with it. Jongin watches as he lies on the floor, vision blurred but clear enough to make out the shape of the intruder. He whispers a quiet ?Kyungsoo?? before passing out.
He doesn?t wake up in a motel. Instead, he is in a hospital where everything smells like medicine and the food is too insipid to swallow. A nurse tells him in broken Korean that his ?cousin? sent him here after an accident that involves falling down two flights and hitting his head against the corner of the stair.
Stage Six
Jongin runs his fingers through his already disheveled dark locks as he vacates the airport, his backpack the only belonging that he brings with him. He halts a taxi and tells him his address, his trip long and quiet. It reminds him too much of his apartment, so when his arrival is welcomed with a similar amount of silence, he?s barely concerned.
Except for the fact that there is a bouquet of flowers (ones which Jongin definitely still has no idea on what types) in warm colors, and a card. Picking it up, he flips the card open to find the (un)expected.
Get well soon. Coffee? Meet me at the caf? across the road 9 AM tomorrow.