off to the races (10/?)
off to the races (10/?)
~ 3500 w, r, (krystal/kai) l part i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix.
If Jongin was sitting there, with his boring ass glued to that fucking arm chair then she wouldn’t give him time to prepare himself.
■ fanmix/soundtrack
■ i'm now posting this on aff too, so go subscribe if you'd like
Jongin’s what you call a ‘cool dude’. He’ll catch basketballs that bounces off some nerd’s hard skull and let his jerk-y buddies have a good laugh over it while he goes over with a relaxed smile and a cordial apology. He doesn’t pull stupid pranks in class but encourages it, always ready to reward the jokester with a high-five or two. He’s happy to help those with lower IQ to cheat on pop quiz; so chill as he lifts up his paper and casually change back to the page he’s circled within the first three minutes time frame. They actually think this super him, ultra ‘cool dude’ exists. What a joke.
Alright, hats off for how compelling he is but he’s going to have to do better than that to convince her that he’s a willing social butterfly.
As far as Krystal’s concerned, he’s a hermit in a codependency relationship with fined print letters on yellowing pages. This is not a coming-of-age TV series, there’s no make-over montage but yet here they are.
“Hey! Shit…what the - Krystal, stop for a sec!”
That’s her name. Someone’s calling her name.
Stretching a smile, Krystal stops short and holds her breath as she spins around.
A goofy looking boy dashes in front of her, hands gripping his bended knees. Still trying to catch his breath, he croaks, “How - holy fuck, you…,” raising his hand as if to say ‘hold on’, he completes his coughing fit then, “You walk really fucking fast.”
“And you swear a lot”
“Just a part of my charm,” he winks, smoothing back his windblown do, “Didn’t really get to talk to you this morning, cause you know,” there’s a weary look that crosses his face as he looks around their surrounding; shifting his eyes from one high school student to another like they’re suspected of a deadly crime rather than making their way home, “Oh Sehun; dude’s really scary.”
And Krystal agrees, except he doesn’t need to know that.
“Hmm, really?” She sounds enough like a generic teenage girl to get away with it, “Sehun is actually really nice once you get to know him.”
“Alright, if you say so,” He murmurs, sounding unconvinced, “I’m Nam Taehyun by the way, thought I should remind you in case you’ve forgotten me already.”
Krystal smiles with enough genteelness for the angels to sing, says, “I haven’t, we have chemistry together.”
“Oh yes, we do.” He winks, nudging her on the shoulder with his.
They start to walk side-by-side; Taehyun’s cross-body bag bouncing against his thigh and her shiny polished school girl shoes squeaking with every step. She’s yet to figure out where exactly she is heading but again, Taehyun doesn’t really need to know that either. It almost stings how painfully easy it would be to run now; the crowd of chattering students are loud and big enough for her to slip by unnoticed and forever gone. Sehun would come after her; he’d keep his promise even if she doesn’t want him to, not at all.
“I don’t usually listen to school gossips and stuff,” Taehyun starts, breaking the silence between them, “But you are tight with that whole crew, aren’t you?”
Krystal slides a glance his way. “Is that what people have been saying?”
He nods.
“Suho’s my cousin and I don’t really know anyone else so,” she shrugs, “you know…”
“Shit,” Taehyun wets his lips, a nervous, almost furtive gesture, “You’re related to that goody-good-good tie wearing, teachers’ ass kissing piece of….no offence or anything.”
“None taken,” ‘cause not like he’s really a family anyway, “I’m gonna take a stab in the dark and say that he didn’t get your vote in the school election?”
He shakes his head. “Would it kill someone if for once the school president, vice president, council and every lame title you can think of be given to some dude who’s not a descendant of some bullshit big name business tycoon?” Then after a moment of self-awareness, “No offence”
She aims a half-smile at him and again, says, “None taken”
So this must mean…
“Taehyun,” Krystal calls in a soft, girlish voice that certainly caught his full attention, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to….” She mumbles, endearing shyness practically radiating off her, “But is your family…different from everyone else’s here?”
At this, he releases a slow breath. “If by different you mean, dirt poor then you’re about right.”
He says it with such simple straightforward shamelessness that it stirs a new formed feeling of admiration within her.
“What can I say,” Taehyun says, his high spirit returns at full force, “I’m just way too smart for an extravaganza school like this to pass up, so with a trust scholarship they manage to buy me out.”
“You must be really cheap then,” Krystal quips before she can stop herself, staring up at the tall building that many would regard as an institution, “This place is a sad excuse for dumbass teenagers to flaunt their parents’ dirty cash.”
“You’re not really Kim Suho’s cousin, please tell me that was a joke?”
-
“We have to stop that”
Chanyeol says it like they can just walk over there and drag her off without triggering some kind of ‘heroic’ male complex in the guy. Not that he had anything against Nam Taehyun, but Jongin can already see how he’ll react and it will only draw more attention to Krystal, tough he’ll say that she’s already doing a great fucking job of that herself.
“Earth to Jongin,” the younger boy snaps, waving a frantic hand over his face, “Anyone there I can talk to before that bitch pulls something?”
“Shut up,” Jongin grits, “Let me think -“
“About?!”
“Do you want to get over there and take care of it yourself?”
With a mixture of frustration and the usual stubbornness of a sixteen-year-old, “If you’re going to stand here like a dingo then someone’s gotta do it.”
“Do what?” He’s desperately trying to keep his voice on the low but it’s not working out - at all, “We’re her friends so start treating her like one -“
“I almost killed her a week ago! No fucking way are we going to be holding hands and skipping into the sunset anytime soon.”
It flew out of his mouth before he could push it all back down his throat. Jongin suspects that he couldn’t even stop it from coming out in one giant spew. Chanyeol’s a hot-headed kind of boy; they knew he was never going to be able to bury the gore and take all the glory.
“I’m gonna throw up, fuck,” He rakes a hand through his bird nest of a hairstyle and backs away from him before breaking into a sprint.
He finds it ironic how Chanyeol was born in the rough and the rest of them, wrapped in silk and gold yet somewhere along the way, he was given a private lesson on how to remain incorruptible in the real world and they weren’t.
Years later this is what he’s become and her?
A dead girl walking.
Jongin squints at the sun, his spine aligning itself with the stone wall that he might as well be one with it. He watches her from afar, this time not to keep an eye on her but to simply watch. It’s like a silent movie the way her eyes flicker like there’s a mystery in her mind that she wants to shout from the rooftop but can only leave clues, when she licks her lips because she thinks she’s already got everybody figured out, her tiny arms pushing up her chest as it heaves up and down because she’s beginning to get impatient with what she’s hearing. But he guesses he’s just making up the story as he goes.
Then she whips around, her locks floating in the winter air as her imperceptible gaze rests on him. Nam Taehyun looks at him too from the corner of his eyes, obviously second on his mind the girl standing opposite of him.
It’s his cue to smile but Jongin doesn’t, he finds himself staring at her like one would with a movie screen - investigating with no hint of intimacy.
He zooms in on her mouth; closing and opening to the shape of goodbye. Like usually, Krystal doesn’t look back at the thing of the past, she moves forward with feet pounding on the pavement like a subtle earthquake.
“Waiting for me?” Krystal means to sound teasing, that much he’s figured but it enters his ears like an uncertain question.
He nods wordlessly, trying to look at her less than he’s done in the past ten minutes.
“I thought you would have hunted me down the moment I actually went somewhere alone,” she says, a touched annoyed now that no one’s around to see, “Surprise, I made it out of the corridor to the gate without any of you leading me around like some stray dog.”
“That’s Suho,” he informs her in a clipped tone and pushes off the wall, “I could care any less as long as you’re within the school ground.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ever thought of investing in a microchip? I heard it works wonder on your favorite pet.”
“You’re hardly my favorite pet - or favorite anything.”
Krystal sighs around the same time he does, then mutters, “Can we get out of here now?”
“You can,” he smirks, “Baekhyun will walk you home.”
She turns to cut him with her sharp as a knife eyes. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head, displeasure etched itself in the downturned frown, “No way, you can put cameras in my bath tub and watch me drool in my sleep but I’m not spending one more second with that crack head!”
Jongin can only imagine how bad he is in class, convenient for him he only has physical education with the mental case and that one and a half hour per week is enough to make his head throb for the remainder of that day.
He shouldn’t feel pity for her but let’s call it empathy when he whips out his phone and scroll through his contacts list.
“What are you doing?” Krystal asks, holding in a breath as her gaze lands on the button his thumb his hovering over.
“Letting Sehun knows that you’d rather him than Baekhyun -“
“Wait don’t!” She blanches, seizing his wrist in both hands like she’s ready to wrestle him to the ground.
There’s a ‘why’ that’s ready to erupt but when he battles with the alarming outbreak of terror in those honey brown orbs, the turning engines in his head stills. He tries to string it together; the iciness of the pads of her fingers on his pulse and the colors slipping away from her cheeks. It like she’s dying all over again.
She rips that troubled look off her face just as soon as she does with her hands from him. “I want Baekhyun.”
Very slowly, “You want Baekhyun?”
“Yes,” Krystal affirms, leveling him with a steady maintenance of eye contact, “I want Baekhyun to walk me home.”
Jongin doesn’t know how he could turn down that request, so no question is asked and he lets it go when Baekhyun races to the school gate with a bag slung over one shoulder and a goofy smile.
When Jongin gives her away, it’s oddly unsettling but what can he do?
-
They have not learned how to be around her - or refuse to. Krystal might enjoy this a bit more if they weren’t having cult meetings every two days in some unknown dingy location.
The worry that she’ll escape has been completely forgotten. She doesn’t know exactly how Sehun manages to quell all their (unnecessary at this point) anxiety that she’ll make a run for it. Obviously he hasn’t informed the others that she’s made a deal with the devil, if that’s the case then there’d be many more smug faces besides him and Jongin.
So one day when Suho paces back and forth by her door, Krystal stays utterly still like a good, little girl in her bed. She waits for that one ‘click’ and the quiet ‘bang’ that follows, the lock latches close and the house is hers - finally.
The rough estimate is that Krystal’s been here for thirteen days, eight hours and maybe an extra thirty eight minutes - give or take; long enough for them to let down their guards but too short for her to explore the fail-safe escape route. Tonight would be a start. Hours on end, she spends on the carpeted floor with her ear pressed to the surface. She knocks once, twice, thrice and the hollowness that follows gives her little to no hope. It occurred to her two nights ago that she needed to spread out; starting with his room.
The lock in her room was impaired so the cliché chair trick under the knob would have to do for now; better safe than sorry. Tying her hair up in sleek ponytail, she takes a breath deep enough to calm her from head to toe and yank opens the connecting door between the rooms; it needed to be hard and fast. If Jongin was sitting there, with his boring ass glued to that fucking arm chair then she wouldn’t give him time to prepare himself.
“Oh thank god,” Krystal mutters, flooded with relief at the sight of an empty room.
Everything is as she remembered - the furniture, array of books, ashtray, coats and jacket hung over the chair. Nothing had moved, he must be one neat teenage boy. It’s an unbelievable sight, really.
The boys back in her own home did none of these things; no clothes were folded and were instead haphazardly stuffed into the nearest drawers and obviously no one reads actual books anymore.
Where to start? Krystal wonders to herself, she needs to think quick and act quick, there’s no time limit because she doesn’t known when they’ll be getting back. Although, she’s sure if there’s a hidden part of the mansion, her first lead would be in this room. After all, it is his family estate and he, hanging around like a watchdog every night is not some unintentional coincidence. Why else would he choose to occupy the room next to hers? To keep an eye on her? Shouldn’t that be a team effort? Then again, there’s always Sehun, who would have probably taken up the job without any complaints.
She can’t just start rummaging through his belongings, everything was so ‘in place’ that if she as so much as sit down on his bed, he’d notice her butt imprint on the cover.
“Ugh how fucking anal is he even?” she grumbles, inspecting his night stand, “Must be such a pain in the ass to live with.”
Not one picture. There’s not one picture in the whole entire room - not of family, not of the gang, not of himself even. How is that even possible? Moving over to bookcase, Krystal runs her fingers atop of it - no bumps, no buttons and she doubts he’s stupid enough to install some classic ‘move the book and move the wall’. Unable to stop herself, Krystal lets out a groan of frustration. This whole space is too empty that it was fishy - then in her peripheral visions; the bathroom.
As if she didn’t think of that one before.
-
“Out of all the crazy shit you’ve come up with,” Kyungsoo clucks his tongue, “This has got to be the best so far.”
“The best?!” Suho seethes, jumping to his feet with hands flat on the table, “Are you hearing yourselves? This is inhumane!”
The owner of the idea, Sehun, doesn’t even spare him a glance when he speaks crisply, “I didn’t realize that what happens to the girl matters.”
“What you’re suggesting -” Suho pauses, looking down at the floor and swallows, “You’re suggesting that we’re sending her to die.”
“And if she struggles hard enough,” the younger boy is firm with his well-laid strategy, “She won’t.”
Suho shakes his head in complete disbelief of what he’s hearing. “It won’t matter how careful she is or how smart or how tough, it’s still one against an army!”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Kyungsoo frowns, taking a quick puff of smoke,
“Why should we care what happens to her anyway? She’s the enemy, if she dies then it’s hardly our problem.”
“We’re playing with someone’s life here!”
Theoretically speaking, this is just another typical Wednesday night. Except this time Sehun might have gone too far with his far-fetched plan. Not so far-fetched for them, more like for their she-hostage.
“We don’t even know for sure whether our stocks are - it could already be shipped off across the Indian Ocean to some equally illegal dealership!”
Jongin wouldn’t really call it a divide in the group when it’s Suho against everyone else, only he’s not sure if he’s a part of that ‘everyone else’ or not.
“Oh come on, dudes! It’s kinda fair that she makes up for our loss,” Baekhyun says light-heartedly, noisily tearing up the wrapper of a piece of candy, “Krystal stole our stocks - uh how much of it again, Kyungsoo hyung?”
“Two and a half billion won worth.”
“Right, that,” Baekhyun points at Kyungsoo as if to make his point and clicks his fingers, “That’s way too much money to slip pass seniors Byun on their next visit to the bank.”
“The only person that hasn’t put their money into this business is Chanyeol,” Sehun says as-a-matter-of-factly, “Not that any of us have any problem with that from the very beginning but that unfortunately, does mean that you don’t get a say in this decision.”
Chanyeol meets Sehun’s hard gaze with an obedient one then returns to huddling in the corner, playing a game of candy crush on his phone.
“What about you?” Suho tries desperately, directing their attention to him, “Jongin, what do you have to say about his plan to hijack DSP?”
“It doesn’t matter what I say,” Jongin brushes off the idea quicker than Suho can think of another,
“The age old rules of majority wins still applies and since Chanyeol is excluded; even if I want to side with you, hyung, it won’t overrule the total votes.”
Suho’s never looked so defeated for someone who’s never even gotten remotely close to it before. Sehun relaxes in his chair, leaning back with his head resting on his woven hands. How smug, Jongin scoffs and his best friend’s cracks open one eye open as if to goat, “What can you about it?” Nothing; not that Jongin wants to flip table from under him in the first place but if he wanted to, his hands are completely tied. Sehun’s made sure of that; he always does when in doubt.
“Alright,” Suho concedes, pulling himself out of his seat and turns their back to them; too disappointed to face any of them, probably, “But don’t expect me to be there on the night. I don’t want any part in cold, hard murder.”
“Not this time anyway,” Sehun quips.
Suho looks livid, Baekhyun looks scandalized, Chanyeol looks ready to leave, Kyungsoo looks like a teacher ready to break up a fight.
And all Jongin can do is snarl, “You’re taking this too far.”
“So I am,” Sehun flicks his eyes to Suho, his lips splitting into a mean, little smile, “Just thought I should remind him that he didn’t have a problem accommodating with that last bloody incident at your old house -“
Kyungsoo cuts him off before he could run his tongue any further. “That’s enough, Sehun.”
But it’s too late. Suho’s marching over to Sehun, fist curled and ready to attack yet he stands by, rooted to the ground like a stone. “And I regret it. But what you’re about to do to that girl - you know there’s no chance in hell that she’ll come out of this alive.”
And Suho waits for the retaliation that Jongin knows will never come because it doesn’t exist in the first place. “I hope for your own sake that you’re only pretending that it doesn’t bother you because if you honestly feel nothing for what you’re about to do,” He blinks, takes a halting breath and runs a hand over his face, “Then god help you, Sehun -”
“You can say it, Suho.”
The older boy lowers his gaze to the floor and keeps it there.
“You want to call me a monster, don’t you?”
Every monster has its creator and Sehun is no different.
“You’re a sad little man.”
Suho leaves with full eyes and clenched jaw, Jongin thinks it pains him to have to tell Sehun the truth after all these years.
-
Pictures of her - more pictures - ones of smiles, of innocence, of laughter, of summer air and bloodied white dress.
All the things Krystal’s been running for in one little room.
~ 3500 w, r, (krystal/kai) l part i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix.
If Jongin was sitting there, with his boring ass glued to that fucking arm chair then she wouldn’t give him time to prepare himself.
■ fanmix/soundtrack
■ i'm now posting this on aff too, so go subscribe if you'd like
Jongin’s what you call a ‘cool dude’. He’ll catch basketballs that bounces off some nerd’s hard skull and let his jerk-y buddies have a good laugh over it while he goes over with a relaxed smile and a cordial apology. He doesn’t pull stupid pranks in class but encourages it, always ready to reward the jokester with a high-five or two. He’s happy to help those with lower IQ to cheat on pop quiz; so chill as he lifts up his paper and casually change back to the page he’s circled within the first three minutes time frame. They actually think this super him, ultra ‘cool dude’ exists. What a joke.
Alright, hats off for how compelling he is but he’s going to have to do better than that to convince her that he’s a willing social butterfly.
As far as Krystal’s concerned, he’s a hermit in a codependency relationship with fined print letters on yellowing pages. This is not a coming-of-age TV series, there’s no make-over montage but yet here they are.
“Hey! Shit…what the - Krystal, stop for a sec!”
That’s her name. Someone’s calling her name.
Stretching a smile, Krystal stops short and holds her breath as she spins around.
A goofy looking boy dashes in front of her, hands gripping his bended knees. Still trying to catch his breath, he croaks, “How - holy fuck, you…,” raising his hand as if to say ‘hold on’, he completes his coughing fit then, “You walk really fucking fast.”
“And you swear a lot”
“Just a part of my charm,” he winks, smoothing back his windblown do, “Didn’t really get to talk to you this morning, cause you know,” there’s a weary look that crosses his face as he looks around their surrounding; shifting his eyes from one high school student to another like they’re suspected of a deadly crime rather than making their way home, “Oh Sehun; dude’s really scary.”
And Krystal agrees, except he doesn’t need to know that.
“Hmm, really?” She sounds enough like a generic teenage girl to get away with it, “Sehun is actually really nice once you get to know him.”
“Alright, if you say so,” He murmurs, sounding unconvinced, “I’m Nam Taehyun by the way, thought I should remind you in case you’ve forgotten me already.”
Krystal smiles with enough genteelness for the angels to sing, says, “I haven’t, we have chemistry together.”
“Oh yes, we do.” He winks, nudging her on the shoulder with his.
They start to walk side-by-side; Taehyun’s cross-body bag bouncing against his thigh and her shiny polished school girl shoes squeaking with every step. She’s yet to figure out where exactly she is heading but again, Taehyun doesn’t really need to know that either. It almost stings how painfully easy it would be to run now; the crowd of chattering students are loud and big enough for her to slip by unnoticed and forever gone. Sehun would come after her; he’d keep his promise even if she doesn’t want him to, not at all.
“I don’t usually listen to school gossips and stuff,” Taehyun starts, breaking the silence between them, “But you are tight with that whole crew, aren’t you?”
Krystal slides a glance his way. “Is that what people have been saying?”
He nods.
“Suho’s my cousin and I don’t really know anyone else so,” she shrugs, “you know…”
“Shit,” Taehyun wets his lips, a nervous, almost furtive gesture, “You’re related to that goody-good-good tie wearing, teachers’ ass kissing piece of….no offence or anything.”
“None taken,” ‘cause not like he’s really a family anyway, “I’m gonna take a stab in the dark and say that he didn’t get your vote in the school election?”
He shakes his head. “Would it kill someone if for once the school president, vice president, council and every lame title you can think of be given to some dude who’s not a descendant of some bullshit big name business tycoon?” Then after a moment of self-awareness, “No offence”
She aims a half-smile at him and again, says, “None taken”
So this must mean…
“Taehyun,” Krystal calls in a soft, girlish voice that certainly caught his full attention, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to….” She mumbles, endearing shyness practically radiating off her, “But is your family…different from everyone else’s here?”
At this, he releases a slow breath. “If by different you mean, dirt poor then you’re about right.”
He says it with such simple straightforward shamelessness that it stirs a new formed feeling of admiration within her.
“What can I say,” Taehyun says, his high spirit returns at full force, “I’m just way too smart for an extravaganza school like this to pass up, so with a trust scholarship they manage to buy me out.”
“You must be really cheap then,” Krystal quips before she can stop herself, staring up at the tall building that many would regard as an institution, “This place is a sad excuse for dumbass teenagers to flaunt their parents’ dirty cash.”
“You’re not really Kim Suho’s cousin, please tell me that was a joke?”
-
“We have to stop that”
Chanyeol says it like they can just walk over there and drag her off without triggering some kind of ‘heroic’ male complex in the guy. Not that he had anything against Nam Taehyun, but Jongin can already see how he’ll react and it will only draw more attention to Krystal, tough he’ll say that she’s already doing a great fucking job of that herself.
“Earth to Jongin,” the younger boy snaps, waving a frantic hand over his face, “Anyone there I can talk to before that bitch pulls something?”
“Shut up,” Jongin grits, “Let me think -“
“About?!”
“Do you want to get over there and take care of it yourself?”
With a mixture of frustration and the usual stubbornness of a sixteen-year-old, “If you’re going to stand here like a dingo then someone’s gotta do it.”
“Do what?” He’s desperately trying to keep his voice on the low but it’s not working out - at all, “We’re her friends so start treating her like one -“
“I almost killed her a week ago! No fucking way are we going to be holding hands and skipping into the sunset anytime soon.”
It flew out of his mouth before he could push it all back down his throat. Jongin suspects that he couldn’t even stop it from coming out in one giant spew. Chanyeol’s a hot-headed kind of boy; they knew he was never going to be able to bury the gore and take all the glory.
“I’m gonna throw up, fuck,” He rakes a hand through his bird nest of a hairstyle and backs away from him before breaking into a sprint.
He finds it ironic how Chanyeol was born in the rough and the rest of them, wrapped in silk and gold yet somewhere along the way, he was given a private lesson on how to remain incorruptible in the real world and they weren’t.
Years later this is what he’s become and her?
A dead girl walking.
Jongin squints at the sun, his spine aligning itself with the stone wall that he might as well be one with it. He watches her from afar, this time not to keep an eye on her but to simply watch. It’s like a silent movie the way her eyes flicker like there’s a mystery in her mind that she wants to shout from the rooftop but can only leave clues, when she licks her lips because she thinks she’s already got everybody figured out, her tiny arms pushing up her chest as it heaves up and down because she’s beginning to get impatient with what she’s hearing. But he guesses he’s just making up the story as he goes.
Then she whips around, her locks floating in the winter air as her imperceptible gaze rests on him. Nam Taehyun looks at him too from the corner of his eyes, obviously second on his mind the girl standing opposite of him.
It’s his cue to smile but Jongin doesn’t, he finds himself staring at her like one would with a movie screen - investigating with no hint of intimacy.
He zooms in on her mouth; closing and opening to the shape of goodbye. Like usually, Krystal doesn’t look back at the thing of the past, she moves forward with feet pounding on the pavement like a subtle earthquake.
“Waiting for me?” Krystal means to sound teasing, that much he’s figured but it enters his ears like an uncertain question.
He nods wordlessly, trying to look at her less than he’s done in the past ten minutes.
“I thought you would have hunted me down the moment I actually went somewhere alone,” she says, a touched annoyed now that no one’s around to see, “Surprise, I made it out of the corridor to the gate without any of you leading me around like some stray dog.”
“That’s Suho,” he informs her in a clipped tone and pushes off the wall, “I could care any less as long as you’re within the school ground.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ever thought of investing in a microchip? I heard it works wonder on your favorite pet.”
“You’re hardly my favorite pet - or favorite anything.”
Krystal sighs around the same time he does, then mutters, “Can we get out of here now?”
“You can,” he smirks, “Baekhyun will walk you home.”
She turns to cut him with her sharp as a knife eyes. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head, displeasure etched itself in the downturned frown, “No way, you can put cameras in my bath tub and watch me drool in my sleep but I’m not spending one more second with that crack head!”
Jongin can only imagine how bad he is in class, convenient for him he only has physical education with the mental case and that one and a half hour per week is enough to make his head throb for the remainder of that day.
He shouldn’t feel pity for her but let’s call it empathy when he whips out his phone and scroll through his contacts list.
“What are you doing?” Krystal asks, holding in a breath as her gaze lands on the button his thumb his hovering over.
“Letting Sehun knows that you’d rather him than Baekhyun -“
“Wait don’t!” She blanches, seizing his wrist in both hands like she’s ready to wrestle him to the ground.
There’s a ‘why’ that’s ready to erupt but when he battles with the alarming outbreak of terror in those honey brown orbs, the turning engines in his head stills. He tries to string it together; the iciness of the pads of her fingers on his pulse and the colors slipping away from her cheeks. It like she’s dying all over again.
She rips that troubled look off her face just as soon as she does with her hands from him. “I want Baekhyun.”
Very slowly, “You want Baekhyun?”
“Yes,” Krystal affirms, leveling him with a steady maintenance of eye contact, “I want Baekhyun to walk me home.”
Jongin doesn’t know how he could turn down that request, so no question is asked and he lets it go when Baekhyun races to the school gate with a bag slung over one shoulder and a goofy smile.
When Jongin gives her away, it’s oddly unsettling but what can he do?
-
They have not learned how to be around her - or refuse to. Krystal might enjoy this a bit more if they weren’t having cult meetings every two days in some unknown dingy location.
The worry that she’ll escape has been completely forgotten. She doesn’t know exactly how Sehun manages to quell all their (unnecessary at this point) anxiety that she’ll make a run for it. Obviously he hasn’t informed the others that she’s made a deal with the devil, if that’s the case then there’d be many more smug faces besides him and Jongin.
So one day when Suho paces back and forth by her door, Krystal stays utterly still like a good, little girl in her bed. She waits for that one ‘click’ and the quiet ‘bang’ that follows, the lock latches close and the house is hers - finally.
The rough estimate is that Krystal’s been here for thirteen days, eight hours and maybe an extra thirty eight minutes - give or take; long enough for them to let down their guards but too short for her to explore the fail-safe escape route. Tonight would be a start. Hours on end, she spends on the carpeted floor with her ear pressed to the surface. She knocks once, twice, thrice and the hollowness that follows gives her little to no hope. It occurred to her two nights ago that she needed to spread out; starting with his room.
The lock in her room was impaired so the cliché chair trick under the knob would have to do for now; better safe than sorry. Tying her hair up in sleek ponytail, she takes a breath deep enough to calm her from head to toe and yank opens the connecting door between the rooms; it needed to be hard and fast. If Jongin was sitting there, with his boring ass glued to that fucking arm chair then she wouldn’t give him time to prepare himself.
“Oh thank god,” Krystal mutters, flooded with relief at the sight of an empty room.
Everything is as she remembered - the furniture, array of books, ashtray, coats and jacket hung over the chair. Nothing had moved, he must be one neat teenage boy. It’s an unbelievable sight, really.
The boys back in her own home did none of these things; no clothes were folded and were instead haphazardly stuffed into the nearest drawers and obviously no one reads actual books anymore.
Where to start? Krystal wonders to herself, she needs to think quick and act quick, there’s no time limit because she doesn’t known when they’ll be getting back. Although, she’s sure if there’s a hidden part of the mansion, her first lead would be in this room. After all, it is his family estate and he, hanging around like a watchdog every night is not some unintentional coincidence. Why else would he choose to occupy the room next to hers? To keep an eye on her? Shouldn’t that be a team effort? Then again, there’s always Sehun, who would have probably taken up the job without any complaints.
She can’t just start rummaging through his belongings, everything was so ‘in place’ that if she as so much as sit down on his bed, he’d notice her butt imprint on the cover.
“Ugh how fucking anal is he even?” she grumbles, inspecting his night stand, “Must be such a pain in the ass to live with.”
Not one picture. There’s not one picture in the whole entire room - not of family, not of the gang, not of himself even. How is that even possible? Moving over to bookcase, Krystal runs her fingers atop of it - no bumps, no buttons and she doubts he’s stupid enough to install some classic ‘move the book and move the wall’. Unable to stop herself, Krystal lets out a groan of frustration. This whole space is too empty that it was fishy - then in her peripheral visions; the bathroom.
As if she didn’t think of that one before.
-
“Out of all the crazy shit you’ve come up with,” Kyungsoo clucks his tongue, “This has got to be the best so far.”
“The best?!” Suho seethes, jumping to his feet with hands flat on the table, “Are you hearing yourselves? This is inhumane!”
The owner of the idea, Sehun, doesn’t even spare him a glance when he speaks crisply, “I didn’t realize that what happens to the girl matters.”
“What you’re suggesting -” Suho pauses, looking down at the floor and swallows, “You’re suggesting that we’re sending her to die.”
“And if she struggles hard enough,” the younger boy is firm with his well-laid strategy, “She won’t.”
Suho shakes his head in complete disbelief of what he’s hearing. “It won’t matter how careful she is or how smart or how tough, it’s still one against an army!”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Kyungsoo frowns, taking a quick puff of smoke,
“Why should we care what happens to her anyway? She’s the enemy, if she dies then it’s hardly our problem.”
“We’re playing with someone’s life here!”
Theoretically speaking, this is just another typical Wednesday night. Except this time Sehun might have gone too far with his far-fetched plan. Not so far-fetched for them, more like for their she-hostage.
“We don’t even know for sure whether our stocks are - it could already be shipped off across the Indian Ocean to some equally illegal dealership!”
Jongin wouldn’t really call it a divide in the group when it’s Suho against everyone else, only he’s not sure if he’s a part of that ‘everyone else’ or not.
“Oh come on, dudes! It’s kinda fair that she makes up for our loss,” Baekhyun says light-heartedly, noisily tearing up the wrapper of a piece of candy, “Krystal stole our stocks - uh how much of it again, Kyungsoo hyung?”
“Two and a half billion won worth.”
“Right, that,” Baekhyun points at Kyungsoo as if to make his point and clicks his fingers, “That’s way too much money to slip pass seniors Byun on their next visit to the bank.”
“The only person that hasn’t put their money into this business is Chanyeol,” Sehun says as-a-matter-of-factly, “Not that any of us have any problem with that from the very beginning but that unfortunately, does mean that you don’t get a say in this decision.”
Chanyeol meets Sehun’s hard gaze with an obedient one then returns to huddling in the corner, playing a game of candy crush on his phone.
“What about you?” Suho tries desperately, directing their attention to him, “Jongin, what do you have to say about his plan to hijack DSP?”
“It doesn’t matter what I say,” Jongin brushes off the idea quicker than Suho can think of another,
“The age old rules of majority wins still applies and since Chanyeol is excluded; even if I want to side with you, hyung, it won’t overrule the total votes.”
Suho’s never looked so defeated for someone who’s never even gotten remotely close to it before. Sehun relaxes in his chair, leaning back with his head resting on his woven hands. How smug, Jongin scoffs and his best friend’s cracks open one eye open as if to goat, “What can you about it?” Nothing; not that Jongin wants to flip table from under him in the first place but if he wanted to, his hands are completely tied. Sehun’s made sure of that; he always does when in doubt.
“Alright,” Suho concedes, pulling himself out of his seat and turns their back to them; too disappointed to face any of them, probably, “But don’t expect me to be there on the night. I don’t want any part in cold, hard murder.”
“Not this time anyway,” Sehun quips.
Suho looks livid, Baekhyun looks scandalized, Chanyeol looks ready to leave, Kyungsoo looks like a teacher ready to break up a fight.
And all Jongin can do is snarl, “You’re taking this too far.”
“So I am,” Sehun flicks his eyes to Suho, his lips splitting into a mean, little smile, “Just thought I should remind him that he didn’t have a problem accommodating with that last bloody incident at your old house -“
Kyungsoo cuts him off before he could run his tongue any further. “That’s enough, Sehun.”
But it’s too late. Suho’s marching over to Sehun, fist curled and ready to attack yet he stands by, rooted to the ground like a stone. “And I regret it. But what you’re about to do to that girl - you know there’s no chance in hell that she’ll come out of this alive.”
And Suho waits for the retaliation that Jongin knows will never come because it doesn’t exist in the first place. “I hope for your own sake that you’re only pretending that it doesn’t bother you because if you honestly feel nothing for what you’re about to do,” He blinks, takes a halting breath and runs a hand over his face, “Then god help you, Sehun -”
“You can say it, Suho.”
The older boy lowers his gaze to the floor and keeps it there.
“You want to call me a monster, don’t you?”
Every monster has its creator and Sehun is no different.
“You’re a sad little man.”
Suho leaves with full eyes and clenched jaw, Jongin thinks it pains him to have to tell Sehun the truth after all these years.
-
Pictures of her - more pictures - ones of smiles, of innocence, of laughter, of summer air and bloodied white dress.
All the things Krystal’s been running for in one little room.