off to the races (12 pt.2/?)
off to the races (12 pt. 2/?)
~ 6550 w, r, (krystal/kai) l part i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. xi. xii pt1.
He had kept all that you could of a dead girl, except for the girl herself.
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Jongin couldn’t get out of there quicker enough if he tried.
Hyukjae’s clammy hand clasps him on the back, the other holding onto the heavy metal door to safe them all trouble of wincing at the screeching sound of the rusting hinge pulling its weight. It’s a bad idea to disrespect the team’s captain but still a lot better than his initial idea of leaving Krystal to do whatever the fuck she wants.
“Uh…hey hyung, I’m kind of late for something,” he rushes out in one short breath, “I’ll see you at the next one.”
“You get here late and leave early. What is up with that black eye? What kind of bad shit are you getting up to - yah! Get back here, you ungrateful child!”
Practically in pain at the mere sight of the time on his phone, Jongin hastily stuffs the remaining half of his baggy tee back into his duffle back and quickens his pace. The auditorium was unlocked around four minutes ago. If luck is on his side then she would have been sitting closer to the stage than the back; it’d give him enough time to be at the exit door by the time the throng of teens can finish their fight for a way out - oh fuck, closer to the front means closer to him and every well-rehearsed motions he made. He’ll worry about getting hold of a gun to shoot himself in the face later (shouldn’t be too hard if he looks under the couch).
“I didn’t leave college early to baby sit underage girls,” Yunho drawls lazily from the backstage exit.
“No one asked you to.” Krystal spits.
“I did,” He murmurs under his breath, walking up to the pair then turning to the older man, “We’re leaving now.”
“Not going out for drinks with the rest of the team?”
Affirmative, Jongin shakes his head.
Yunho holds his gaze long enough to make both him and the girl besides him uneasy. Then, he pushes himself off the already vulnerable wall that he’s been leaning on and takes off the other way, “Try to not fuck up the windmill next time, kid.”
“Does that guy have no filter at all?” Krystal grumbles in disdain.
Peeking up at him through those heavy coats of mascara-ed lashes, Krystal allows herself a well-hidden study of his eyes; firmly glued to Yunho’s back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him; the way her head spun to the left too quickly when he could have caught her watching him. If she had something to say, she’s communicated with her silence that there will be no speaking of it - for the time being anyway. So they’re playing this game, Jongin thinks to himself grimly. His fingers feel around for the zip of the bag but once it’s between his fingers, he hesitated in dragging it down. He berates himself for being overly concerned with things that don’t matter before going through with it and pulling out his wind jacket.
Jongin drapes it over her shoulder, smoothing it once over before deciding that he really shouldn’t take such care when he’s giving it to her of all people. Her tousled hair tickles his wrist and he finds himself pulling away so fast that the fleeting touch might have stung without him knowing it. He isn’t going to subject himself to anymore of this, Jongin decides, and side-step around her to put some space between them as he walks ahead.
She trail after him. He hears it echoes off these walls; it’s suffocating how slow and soft her steps are compared to his. It makes him feel like he’s running away from something. He blames the anxiety on how eager he is to get out of here because if Taemin fucking finds out she’s here - he doesn’t even have enough of a colorful vocabulary to describe the shit that will go down -
“Fuck,” Jongin is well aware that his shoe laces are untied and he should have tied them. If he only knew he was going to have to deal with this - “Shit, fucking fuck, fuck, shit….how the -“ he groans, latching onto the edge of antique stand to keep from doubling over completely, “Fuck everything.”
“What? What?!” Krystal asks with great urgency, instantly by his side, “What the hell was that? You literally rebounded off the wall then somehow managed to trip over your own feet -“
He doesn’t want to risk making the smallest of sounds so instead of telling her to shut up, he clasps a hand over her mouth and pushes her behind him. “Wdgfsderfterhesf”
He’s not going to try and decode that.
And Jongin wishes that he could have stayed hidden behind the ugly antique monument Yunho refuses to throw out but Taemin’s already waving him over. He doesn’t miss how big his grin is.
“Stay here,” He can’t believe he’s giving her the chance to escape, again, “If I’m not back by ten minutes, come out.”
“Wh -“
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes!” She confirms, throwing her arms up in the air in exasperation, “Oh don’t look at me like that, if I was going to make a run for it, I would have done it a long time or it. Yunho couldn’t have stopped me.”
Why didn’t you? Jongin wants to asks but Taemin’s quickly approaching. Tearing his eyes away from hers, he straightens and decorates his grim expression with a hundred watts smile.
“Hey, there’s the man of the hour,” his friend chuckles and goes in for a hug, the kind with hands clasping one another in a strong but casual shake, “Next time try not to come late or fall off your bike on your way here.”
“I’ll try,” Jongin lies through his smile, patting him on the back, “I think you took the win home for us today. My right arm wasn’t stable enough when I was doing the flare. It was too angled.”
“Still humble after all these years,” Taemin shakes his head a little, then like previous thoughts have escaped his minds; he is a blank slate. “This will sound really weird but I saw - uh - Suho hyung’s cousin -here - in the audience.”
“Y - you did?” Jongin allows himself to stutter, “Are you sure?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” Taemin gives himself a knowing look, except he sounds anything but, “But dude, I swear, one moment I’m running down the atrium then she’s standing right there. I would have probably brushed it off but then I called out her name and she just stared at me then said my name back to me.”
That bit of incident must have slipped her mind. Clearly because he is standing here like a meathead, trying to dig himself out of the grave she’s forced him in.
“Why would anyone from our school be remotely interested in coming here?”
“I don’t know…” Taemin trails off, his mind elsewhere as he looks right through him, “But uh - well - uh - you might want to turn around.”
Jongin narrows his eyes at the sight of the petite brunette coming towards them. It couldn’t have already been ten minutes. But even when they were kids, she never listened to anyone. His mistake was thinking she would start today.
“I -“ she’s out of breath, her hair messily parted to the side but she must have looked like a fallen angel to Taemin with those twinkles in his eyes, “I still can’t believe it was really you, Taemin.”
Brushing pass Jongin, Taemin moves to her like a bee to honey. “M - me neither“ he looks mind boggled by this situation, Jongin is too but in an entirely different way, “W - what brought you to a place like this?”
“I..uh…” Krystal fidgets with the button of her blazer, “I did ballet, tap and jazz when I was younger,” fumbling with her words, she steals a glance at him, “I thought it would be fun to see what these b-boying competitions are like, so I showed and yeah, you know how the rest of the story goes.”
“You can dance?”
The irony isn’t lost to him: Taemin has never liked a girl since middle school; and that one could barely be counted as a crush but the one time he decides to be infatuated, it had to be Krystal. Any other girl who’s half a psycho that Krystal is and he would have gladly played the wingman.
“I mean I know how to, doesn’t mean I’m any good at it. To be honest, I haven’t practiced in a long time now,” she replies with a nervous giggle that must be music to Taemin’s ears, “You were really cool up there though. I could barely see with everyone up on their feet.”
It’s fascinating and sickening at the same time to see Taemin act in such manner around a girl: attentive all the things she has to say like he’s hanging on her every word. It’s as if he wanted to learn all there is to know about her and it would still not be enough. Jongin doesn’t know what it is but it’s in a different league with what those other dick wipes at school feel for her.
“You were really good too, Jongin.”
He was ready for mocking with a heavy handed dash of sarcasm; not sincerity.
“Why are you wearing Jongin’s jacket?”
Just when he thought it couldn’t get worst than this - it does.
“Oh this thing,” Krystal lets out a nervous chuckle, tugging at the green material with convincing nonchalance, “I was asking around for you and this guy ; he must have thought that me knowing you means knowing Jongin - like you guys are a package deal or something like that. Anyway,” she clears her throat, flashing at him one of those shy girl smile she’s been using against Taemin, “You left it on your way in. Since you have such little appreciation for it, I’m going to wear it for now. It’s like an ice box in here!”
Taemin looks to have been thoroughly persuaded by her story. But at this point, Jongin’s sure that if Krystal told him unicorns exists he would go and hunt down one for her.
“We’re all about to go grab dinner,” Taemin says bashfully, “You should come with.”
“It’s already late, she should get ho -“
“Sounds fun but it’s going to have to be some other time,” Krystal is perfectly apologetic when churning out that line, “Suho’s probably worried sick. I didn’t tell him I was going out after school. I do not want to deal with his shit when I get home.”
“Oh okay…”
Taemin looks like someone had kneed him in the balls. It’s painful to watch.
“Are you headed home now?” It takes him a second to realize that Krystal’s addressing him with that question and not Taemin.
“Uh…yeah”
Taemin frowns, at what exactly he is not sure. “You’re not coming out with us?”
“I’m going to have to pass for tonight, man,” Jongin says immediately, his voice thick, “I’m gonna go home and finish off that chapter on stem cells to make up for the classes I’ve missed this week.”
“Great,” Krystal chirps, “Your house is not too far by, right? You can give drop me off on the way.”
“He’s got a bike.”
“I know,” she says gently and aims a half-smile at him. Jongin cannot tell if it’s from beneath the mask or on the surface but it makes him feel transparent. “It’s okay, he sucks on the road but what other choice do I have but to trust him?”
And if that was a joke, he didn’t find it funny.
-
To her credit, Krystal wasn’t exactly wrong - Suho is kind of making her deal with his shit - though it’s mostly directed at Jongin.
“Where the hell did you guys go?” The door flies open with a big sigh of relaxation the guy has probably been holding for long enough to burst, “Chanyeol called and said you took off with her -“
“More like I took him with me,” Krystal corrects.
Suho looks back and forth between them, demands an answer, “What happened?”
“Who the fuck is that?” Someone from the inside yells loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“The owner of this house,” Jongin returns with a tired sigh, pleading with his eyes for Suho to move out of the way and in the end, he gives in and let them through.
A particularly sweaty hand wraps itself around her elbow, Krystal doesn’t even have to look to shake it off right away. “What happened?” He asks with a touch of impatience, “Sehun and Chanyeol haven’t gotten back yet but he doesn’t look okay.”
He, meaning Jongin, because honestly he was pretty bashed up.
“Why are you asking me what happened? Ask those smug bastards with either a black eye, a concussion, a broken back or all of the above. You don’t see me hobbling through the door,” Krystal says coolly, taking off Jongin’s jacket and dumping it in Suho’s unwilling arms, “And he’s okay; nothing that will permanently ruin his good looks so don’t sweat - some more - over it. Oh and also, we snuck into one of your fancy ass’s clinic and got some first aid treats. Thanks for taking one for the team.”
Suho’s already a bubbling mess, trying to actually make sense and be appropriate at the same time but that usually takes a while so she turns a deaf ear. She’s (still) stuck here and starving, which means time to act like she actually lives in this prison and raid the fridge.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m back early?” The one with a really big head and alien eyes asks, looking pleased with himself as he rocks back in his chair.
“Why are you back early?” Jongin repeats robotically.
“Because,” his smile is so joyful that it gives her the creeps, “We sold everything we had left.”
“Throw a party,” Krystal mocks, pulling the fridge’s door open, “You don’t have to invite me, just let me go home with a bottle of vodka.”
The fugly son of a bitch makes a face at her and if he’s five years old enough to do it, she is too.
“Even all the motor parts?” Jongin asks the guy and he nods, though the younger boy doesn’t seem to accept it, “It’s only been a few weeks, hyung, we couldn’t have sold off everything.”
“We wouldn’t have,” He says with a huff, then shoots her a dirty look, “If someone didn’t steal the other half and sold it off in the black market.”
She shrugs, “You never know if it’s to the black market. Even I don’t know.”
“Oh everyone, do you hear the good news?”
“We need to sit down and discuss whether we should close down business for mean time,” Shit-ho butts in before she could flip Kyung-whatever off. She knows she’s a refreshing beauty but he should be getting used to it by now and stop with the double take. “Are you drinking straight from the carton?”
The carton of milk freezes in her hand as she swallows down the cold liquid, replies with the obvious, “Uh yeah”
“That’s disgusting,” the other one gives his two cents that no one asked for.
“Are you telling me that in this house of five male, none of you drink out of the carton?”
“Six,” Suho corrects her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Krystal says sarcastically, reaching over for a cup because she’s apparently living like a cavewoman amongst such fine gentlemen, “I can’t tell the difference when you all look so much alike. Do you go to the same hairdresser? Next time tell her to go easy on the highlights.”
“Everyone here is hygienic,” Jongin says, plucking the carton from her hand and dropping it in the trash, “Except Baekhyun.”
“There was basically full,” she exclaims at how ridiculous these idiots are being, “Whatever. I’m going to my room so I don’t have to listen to you bore me to death in your monotone voices.”
She has better - more important things to do anyway; like find out what more Jongin’s got hidden down there in that room.
-
“We’re heading back,” Sehun announces, hanging up on his phone.
“Hyung, we can’t go back to school looking like this.”
“Not school,” He says simply, feeling the pain shoot up his leg as he stands, “We’re going back to Jongin’s.”
Chanyeol visibly relaxes at that decision. “Are the - those two already there?”
When Chanyeol says “those two” like he is afraid to group them together in a collective pronoun, Sehun concludes that he is indeed talking about Jongin and Krystal.
Silently, he nods his response. Gritting his teeth as he bends over to put on his shoes. Choi Seunghyun did really have a talent in breaking bones and wounding your pride while doing it.
“Hyung,” Chanyeol starts, keeping his voice even, “About the plan you’ve got in mind -“
“We’re going through with it.”
“After all that, you can’t tell me you’re still going to make her -“He swallows, then quietly, “How are you going to feel if she dies on the night?”
“We don’t know that she will,” he says but it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears, “And if she does what is it to me, to you or to any of us?”
“I don’t know!” Chanyeol cuts in sharply, running his fingers through his blood tinted hair,“ She basically saved our ass today. I don’t know about you hyung, but if she didn’t jump in at the last minute, it’s a pretty sure bet that Seunghyun would have left your dead body for us to find.”
“No one asked her for help.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Chanyeol gives a jerky little shake of the head, “You’re just proving my point that no one had to force her to help - she just did.”
“So it is that easy to earn your sympathy,” Sehun quirks a brow, “Get up, Chanyeol. If you want to so badly to tell her tale of redemption, you better do it in front of an audience who’ll take it into account.”
Jongin surely will, Sehun thinks to himself, disgruntled by what could be considered as an impending betrayal from his friend’s part. He had not made it clear to any of them whether he is giving the plan a blessing or a dubious pass in a losing game. The pair of them, not made of the same blood line but brothers by bonds and life’s harassment - loyalty they swear it and he wouldn’t dare doubt him. But how long does Jongin think he can hide from him? Not that Sehun couldn’t predict the final word if his sentiment’s dictation gets in the way.
“Why do you suppose Jongin kissed her that night?”
Chanyeol shrugs, his body half way out the window. “He’s hot, she’s hot. That’s what hot people do when they see each other: make out.”
-
Okay, so she admits that Jongin is really organized. The good side to that is there are no spiders in the basement (thank god) but the bad side to that is if she as so much as touches something, he probably could dust her fingerprints off and give it to their tech guy (do they even have one?). Does that work for her ass too? Because she’s going to need to sit down to think about her game plan here.
She really didn’t think this one through.
“Right, what do we have here…”
So far: a square box with no label, another square box on top of it also with no label, another one next to that one with a scratch on its side - basically just bunch of boxes stacked on top of another. That eyesore of a white dress is neatly folded and stashed away in the half opened trunk. She could see the flats too; dried mud clumped at the toe and the ribbon wonky on the left one. How these items are with him and not in stored away in evidence bags, she’d never know.
Crouching down on bended knees, Krystal stares at pyramid of boxes that he’s created. Where to start? She couldn’t be sure all of them contained Jung Soojung’s belongings or related belongings anyway. Either she was going to have to get her hand dirty. As much as she’d like for the lids to magically pop open on its own, she doubts she’s going to discover a new found talent in telepathy anytime soon.
“Fuck it,” wiping her palms furiously on her frumpy school skirt, she takes a deep, calming breath then lunges for the canvas box at the right top corner.
And she will never be ready, Krystal understands that now. She’ll never be able to look this girl in the face and accept that this is a part of her that can’t and won’t die. Her long, raven hair in a loose braid resting at the nape of her neck as her big, fat smile shines for the camera.
“So we meet again, Jung Soojung,” a lump form in her throat when her fingers trace the letters on the certificate before plucking the aging picture away from the paper clip, “Don’t look too sad. She might have beaten you then but you’d be happy to hear that you can easily kick her skinny ass today.”
She picks up the silver medal, her hands trembling as she holds it up. There was no victory for her on that day, she was so close yet too far from that finishing line to be the first to touch it. She stopped swimming for a month after that humiliating defeat to an overly buff girl from the class next door. Jung Soojung hated losing, Krystal does too - the difference is she never loses.
Putting it all back in the box, Krystal puts it aside on the rocking chair next to the book shelf Jongin’s substituted for a collector’s space. Silently, she scolds herself for shaking so much - what is she so scared of? It’s not like she’s going to see something she hasn’t before. Krystal removes the lid of the smaller green box hidden under the first one.
It’s her first pointe shoes, she holds in her squeal of horror. The tattered pair lies atop of one another; the ribbons joined together in a neatly tied bow. Krystal can’t bear to touch it. The true age of her once beloved item shows itself through the dirty edges, the scratches all over the platform and the most telling sign of all; dots of crimson red staining the sock liner. She didn’t recognize it at first but the box is her own; this shoebox she stashed away under her bed.
The urge to chuck these shoes and the memory comes at the brick wall is so intense that she has to clamp her hand down on her mouth to stop a scream of pure agony from leaving. How did he get his hands on these? More importantly: who the hell did he think is to take and keep them for himself? Ballet had been hers: the pain, the endurance and the beauty of it was all hers and no one else’s. She had left it in under the roof of that fucking prison so that it would forever remain there with all the dreams she couldn’t have for herself.
What else did he steal from her?
Reckless as it is, Krystal pulls apart the next one then the next then the next until the confrontation becomes too much for her to take.
“Why would you do this?” She whispers, her words faint to her own ears, “Why the hell would you still keep this?”
Her eyes roam over the items as if they are trying to familiarize with what’s laid down in front of her. There are things here that don’t matter to her; trophies she’s won from futile school competitions. But how did he know what had mattered? How did he know it would be the Minnie mouse Polaroid that she almost took with her when she ran? Did he know that her sister is the one who gave her this jar of paper stars? Her century old Ipod is covered in a layer of dust and a pair of tangled ear buds. She loved every single Britney’s songs she had on there; he couldn’t even get into one of them.
He had kept all that you could of a dead girl, except for the girl herself.
-
“I don’t understand why we’re having this discussion,” Suho takes his glasses off and smoothes a hand over his wrinkled face, “I thought we already decided two hours ago that we’re going to close business until the new stock comes in.”
Kyungsoo bristles. “And I thought I won’t have to repeat myself again but obviously I’m going to have to do it again! It’s going to take at least five months from now for any stock to be imported because a month ago, when they asked when we want the next delivery made, we - ”
“Didn’t know that a hot babe would have the hots for our pipes”
Chanyeol stifles his laughter; either at Baekhyun’s lame joke or the steam coming out of Kyungsoo’s ears.
“Pipes? Get it, motor pipes - we deal pipes and wheels and motor -“ Coming to terms with the lack of humor present in the room, Baekhyun lowers his head and gaze to his twiddling thumbs, “Ok, so not as funny as I thought.”
Quickly before someone could beat him to it, Jongin speaks up for the first time. “We can afford to wait five months with the money we’ve made in the last year,”
“Thank you,” Suho exclaims, throwing his head back.
“We can,” Kyungsoo nods, pouring himself more beer, “But I don’t want to.”
“Yah! Yah! You self-centered bastard,” Baekhyun looks outraged, “What about what I want?”
Chanyeol rolls his eyes, pulling Baekhyun down by his scrawny arm, “We, hyung, it’s what we want.”
“What the Yoda said!”
“Who are you calling a Yoda?!”
Raising a hand as if it could stop those two, Kyungsoo , “We voted last time -“
“I didn’t.”
At once, they turn to him but their eyes all convey different things. Because while Suho might have felt a little less alone in his fight and Chanyeol secretly ashamed for going against his heart’s content. The other three could not be swayed.
Sehun cocks a brow. “You said you had no problem going along with my plan.”
“I never said if I did or didn’t,” Jongin points out, his hands folded on the table tops, “I said there was no point to me casting my vote when it wouldn’t change the outcome either way.”
“So you would vote against me?” Sehun asks bluntly.
And Jongin knows his question is asking for much more than one might initially think. Sehun is the eye of the storm; the calmness in the midst of a deadly disaster. He isn’t asking him if he disagreed with his plan or challenging him to come up with a better one because this doesn’t just stop at Krystal and Soojung and bloodshed and greed. Sehun was willing him to think carefully about his answer; he could be with him or against him - not both.
“Yes” He tries his best to keep his voice steady, finger nails digging into his palm, “I would and I do.”
“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo thunders.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sehun declares icily, his cold gaze never breaking away from his, “Jongin can do whatever he wants but it’s still four against two.”
Sehun’s new found resentment is subtle but there. They have dismissed each other; said all there is need to be said to know that brothers can denounce one another when it needed to be done. Jongin had seen it today; he had seen a part of her he thought was only alive in his memory. Because it’s not enough to be close enough to touch her but not know which version of her he is getting. It will never be enough to wake up each morning and tell himself to remember that she was there so he’d never forget it was real.
“W - I ca - I can’t do this, sorry Kyungsoo and Seh -“
“You’re going to vote with them too?!” Kyungsoo cries, livid, “What is your fucking problem? Suho, I can understand cause he likes to think he’s a fucking priest but why the hell would you,” He sends a glare his way, “And you too, Jongin, do you think we’re running a charity? Do you think this is a joke? You and your fucking trust fund can go fuck yourself in the asshole. ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t have the fucking dough to keep myself afloat until a Christmas miracle happens.”
Chanyeol shuffles over to Kyungsoon gingerly, his hand barely touched the older boy’s shoulder before he slapped it away like his touch is poisonous. “You can’t fucking afford it either. Did they buy you off, huh? They put you in school and now paying you to play on side too, is that it?”
“Calm down, Kyungsoo.”
“Shut your fucking face, Suho,” Kyungsoo snaps, pouncing at full force and yanking him up by his shirt collar, “This is all your fault. Do me a favor and stop acting like you’re so holy when you’re just as bad as the rest of us. Shit, you’re even worse than I am. At least I’m not a fucking hypocrite -“
“Stop it” Jongin snarls, rising out of his chair, “Just because you can live with blood on your hands for the rest of your fucking life, doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”
Kyungsoo laughs in ridicule, letting go of Suho and shoving him to the side. “We don’t even fucking know if she’ll die! And you know what if she doesn’t then she gets off - no negotiation, no knife fights! She can skip out of here, whistling if she wants to!”
“She won’t make it back and you know it” Suho croaks, rubbing his hand around his soon to be bruised neck, “She will die trying to get into the system and we won’t get a cent.”
“Or I won’t and you’ll have to let me go”
“My princess!” Baekhyun squeals like a mental case, springing out of his seats and leaping at Krystal, “I was wondering when you were going to come safe me from these maniacs.”
Moving away from the door and letting Baekhyun fly straight through it, Krystal keeps her chin raised up high and takes a step further. She looks bored as she glances around at all six of them; flicking a pencil off the table before settling down on the empty surface.
“So this is where you all have your slumber party,” Krystal says with a yawn, “Do you think you can keep it down next time? You made it way too easy for me to eavesdrop.”
Kyungsoo fumes. “Get the fuck out.”
“Eh - wrong,” She mocks, beckoning him to come closer, “That’s not what you say to someone who’s about to make your dream comes true.”
“Krystal,” Suho tries, his tone desperate, “Leave, please.”
“Sweet of you but,” She patronizes, “You’re supposed to beg me to stay, not to leave. God and I thought you were the smart one.”
“I know right,” Baekhyun chirps, throwing an arm around her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Krystal, you can rely on me. I’m the smart one.”
“Right and Sehun’s the happy one out of you all,” She whacks his arm away, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “So from what I can gather from Kyungsoo’s wailing like a baby: there’s a microchip and money involved. The next stock of motors won’t be delivered in a while - you’re all welcome. I’m basically guaranteed to die if I go through with whatever evil genius plan Sehun thought up in the shower -“
“Will you get to the fucking point already?”
“Hmm…” Krystal ponders, tapping her chin with her fore finger, “If I was to try and deduce this I’d say: you’re making me - well, now asking me, because you can’t even agree on something,” she rolls her eyes then continues, “To heist a gazillion wons worth of motors but somehow that involves hacking into a system. Now that part, I’m not seeing in the bigger picture.”
Kyungsoo growls. “Are you going to do it or not?”
“Depends,” She shrugs nonchalantly, then turning to Sehun, “What system?”
“Doesn’t matter to you what it’s for -“
“Tracking down the location of the vehicles is not difficult,” Sehun launches into the details of his plan, “Our problem is accessing it; it’s not practical for all of us to break into the storage and take all the vehicles in one night. We run a high risk of getting caught. It’s safer and quicker if we can get into the system, then alter the data to fit our own.”
“Oh okay, I get it,” Krystal flashes a smile like a Cheshire cat, “You’re too much of a chicken shit to perform your own big scale robbery so you want to erase half the stocks from the data. That way no one ever knows those cars, bikes, motor parts etc. exists in the first place and you can all take whatever you please.”
“Uh well…” Baekhyun clears his throat, “Not half but yeah, you’re about right. Good job!”
“And if I do this -“
“Then you’re even more stupid than I give you credit for,” Jongin grits, striding over to her.
“What is this?” She scoffs. “Is this your way of saying you care for me? At least Suho was more upfront about it.”
“This conversation is over,” He announces with finality, “The votes were tied. We’ll continue this another day.”
“No, it isn’t,” Krystal insists, walking over to Sehun and looking him square in the eyes, “If I get you access to the data, my part of the deal is done. I am done. I have paid off my debt to you and allowed to leave. Yes?”
“Yes!” Kyungsoo yells in frustration, “You can do whatever the fuck you want!”
“No, not from you,” she swivels around to face the other boy, a hand resting on her hips, “I want to hear it from him. Swear to me that I am free to leave once that data is yours to do whatever you want with.”
Jongin doesn’t want to look at either of them - doesn’t want to see the accusation from the one person he never thought he’d let down and her, none of this is for her. And since all he’s good for is withholding their truth, if she doesn’t know how to stop herself from going there: it’s never been about her.
Taking a shuddering breath, he tries, “Don’t -“
“Your word,” it’s resounding the way she offers herself up, “Your word, Sehun, or I could tell him about the ones you didn’t keep.”
“Yes,” Sehun answers before Jongin could even question her cryptic threat, “You get me that data and you’re no longer of any use to us.”
“Thank god,” Kyungsoo moans, burying his head in his lap, “I thought I was going to miss the new episode of Running Man.”
Baekhyun perks up at this. “Is that on tonight?!”
“Ten minutes before it starts,” Kyungsoo gets up on his feet for a stretch then clasps a hand over Baekhyun’s back, helping him out of his chair, “So fucking glad we’ve got this done and over with. Did we end up throwing out that bottle of soju?”
“I need training.”
And Jongin’s somewhere between livid and befuddled when her fingers wound itself around the sleeve of his shirt, scratching the already loose button until it comes undone. He’ll never know if her plea is for him to understand or be there because he can’t give her neither without losing himself in the process.
“Uh training?” Baekhyun is clueless, “Like running a mile to get fit or weight ‘cause I can totally do that, yeah, I go to the gym everyday - like pfft, two times a day? Easy!”
“We need to prepare her,” Sehun surmises, already half-way out the room, “She needs to be prepared to take down any firewalls, have enough information on the blueprint of the building to know where she’s heading at all times and handle any obstacles if she runs into any.”
“You mean obstacles she will run into,” Suho retorts.
Not bothering to look back, the boy serves him the harsh truth, “Your attitude won’t make a difference.”
“Okay, agreed,” Kyungsoo’s too satisfied with his night to let it be ruined by anymore retaliation from Suho’s part, “We’ll have a meeting first thing tomorrow’s morning. I don’t know about the rest of you little shits but I’m ready to call it a day.”
Chanyeol aggressively mumbles something under his breath, kicking the air and pulling his snapback even further down to cover his face. And he’s not too blind to call it what it is: she’s going in for the kill and will be killed for it.
Jongin doesn’t notice who comes and go; not the hands squeezing his shoulder in awkward comfort and casual ‘good night’s hollering from the other side of the walls. But he can still feel her standing beside him and he’s hoping she’s not waiting for anything because he’s got nothing this round - no smart dialogues, no quips and definitely not condolences.
“I know what you’re thinking -“
“You shouldn’t care what I think” Jongin warns her stiffly.
“Then you shouldn’t care if I die.”
As he turns to face her, his eyes doubles in size and mouth goes dry.
Then it dawns on him that what he wanted to say to her along is: don’t you dare not come back. That it was never okay for her to waltz back into his life like she never went missing in the first place. Jongin clenches his eyes shut; the crippling epiphanies are enough to make him wrench his hand away from her desperate grasp.
“Do whatever you want,” He spits, distancing himself from her with lightning steps.
“Look me in the eyes,” she voice is soft but it’s enough to still him, “You have to look me in the eye if you’re going to say shit you don’t mean. Or else it’s not fair.”
They lock eyes across the room and the sight of her knock the air out of him. He sees her sometimes, laughing outside a classroom, biting the end of her pen during a lecture and they are flashes of a girl he never wants to forget. But standing there with that vulnerability engraved into her pretty features and not the mask she wears for the rest of the world to see, she looks too much like Soojung for him to take
Her feet begin to move on their own accord. She’s coming towards him and he knows he is out of his league.
“I can't be here,” Krystal murmurs as she stops next to him, “I - I need to get out.”
Krystal doesn’t wait for a reply, knowing he hasn’t got one for her. She pivots on her heel and rushes out of the room and so does the air from his lungs.
~ 6550 w, r, (krystal/kai) l part i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. xi. xii pt1.
He had kept all that you could of a dead girl, except for the girl herself.
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Jongin couldn’t get out of there quicker enough if he tried.
Hyukjae’s clammy hand clasps him on the back, the other holding onto the heavy metal door to safe them all trouble of wincing at the screeching sound of the rusting hinge pulling its weight. It’s a bad idea to disrespect the team’s captain but still a lot better than his initial idea of leaving Krystal to do whatever the fuck she wants.
“Uh…hey hyung, I’m kind of late for something,” he rushes out in one short breath, “I’ll see you at the next one.”
“You get here late and leave early. What is up with that black eye? What kind of bad shit are you getting up to - yah! Get back here, you ungrateful child!”
Practically in pain at the mere sight of the time on his phone, Jongin hastily stuffs the remaining half of his baggy tee back into his duffle back and quickens his pace. The auditorium was unlocked around four minutes ago. If luck is on his side then she would have been sitting closer to the stage than the back; it’d give him enough time to be at the exit door by the time the throng of teens can finish their fight for a way out - oh fuck, closer to the front means closer to him and every well-rehearsed motions he made. He’ll worry about getting hold of a gun to shoot himself in the face later (shouldn’t be too hard if he looks under the couch).
“I didn’t leave college early to baby sit underage girls,” Yunho drawls lazily from the backstage exit.
“No one asked you to.” Krystal spits.
“I did,” He murmurs under his breath, walking up to the pair then turning to the older man, “We’re leaving now.”
“Not going out for drinks with the rest of the team?”
Affirmative, Jongin shakes his head.
Yunho holds his gaze long enough to make both him and the girl besides him uneasy. Then, he pushes himself off the already vulnerable wall that he’s been leaning on and takes off the other way, “Try to not fuck up the windmill next time, kid.”
“Does that guy have no filter at all?” Krystal grumbles in disdain.
Peeking up at him through those heavy coats of mascara-ed lashes, Krystal allows herself a well-hidden study of his eyes; firmly glued to Yunho’s back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him; the way her head spun to the left too quickly when he could have caught her watching him. If she had something to say, she’s communicated with her silence that there will be no speaking of it - for the time being anyway. So they’re playing this game, Jongin thinks to himself grimly. His fingers feel around for the zip of the bag but once it’s between his fingers, he hesitated in dragging it down. He berates himself for being overly concerned with things that don’t matter before going through with it and pulling out his wind jacket.
Jongin drapes it over her shoulder, smoothing it once over before deciding that he really shouldn’t take such care when he’s giving it to her of all people. Her tousled hair tickles his wrist and he finds himself pulling away so fast that the fleeting touch might have stung without him knowing it. He isn’t going to subject himself to anymore of this, Jongin decides, and side-step around her to put some space between them as he walks ahead.
She trail after him. He hears it echoes off these walls; it’s suffocating how slow and soft her steps are compared to his. It makes him feel like he’s running away from something. He blames the anxiety on how eager he is to get out of here because if Taemin fucking finds out she’s here - he doesn’t even have enough of a colorful vocabulary to describe the shit that will go down -
“Fuck,” Jongin is well aware that his shoe laces are untied and he should have tied them. If he only knew he was going to have to deal with this - “Shit, fucking fuck, fuck, shit….how the -“ he groans, latching onto the edge of antique stand to keep from doubling over completely, “Fuck everything.”
“What? What?!” Krystal asks with great urgency, instantly by his side, “What the hell was that? You literally rebounded off the wall then somehow managed to trip over your own feet -“
He doesn’t want to risk making the smallest of sounds so instead of telling her to shut up, he clasps a hand over her mouth and pushes her behind him. “Wdgfsderfterhesf”
He’s not going to try and decode that.
And Jongin wishes that he could have stayed hidden behind the ugly antique monument Yunho refuses to throw out but Taemin’s already waving him over. He doesn’t miss how big his grin is.
“Stay here,” He can’t believe he’s giving her the chance to escape, again, “If I’m not back by ten minutes, come out.”
“Wh -“
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes!” She confirms, throwing her arms up in the air in exasperation, “Oh don’t look at me like that, if I was going to make a run for it, I would have done it a long time or it. Yunho couldn’t have stopped me.”
Why didn’t you? Jongin wants to asks but Taemin’s quickly approaching. Tearing his eyes away from hers, he straightens and decorates his grim expression with a hundred watts smile.
“Hey, there’s the man of the hour,” his friend chuckles and goes in for a hug, the kind with hands clasping one another in a strong but casual shake, “Next time try not to come late or fall off your bike on your way here.”
“I’ll try,” Jongin lies through his smile, patting him on the back, “I think you took the win home for us today. My right arm wasn’t stable enough when I was doing the flare. It was too angled.”
“Still humble after all these years,” Taemin shakes his head a little, then like previous thoughts have escaped his minds; he is a blank slate. “This will sound really weird but I saw - uh - Suho hyung’s cousin -here - in the audience.”
“Y - you did?” Jongin allows himself to stutter, “Are you sure?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” Taemin gives himself a knowing look, except he sounds anything but, “But dude, I swear, one moment I’m running down the atrium then she’s standing right there. I would have probably brushed it off but then I called out her name and she just stared at me then said my name back to me.”
That bit of incident must have slipped her mind. Clearly because he is standing here like a meathead, trying to dig himself out of the grave she’s forced him in.
“Why would anyone from our school be remotely interested in coming here?”
“I don’t know…” Taemin trails off, his mind elsewhere as he looks right through him, “But uh - well - uh - you might want to turn around.”
Jongin narrows his eyes at the sight of the petite brunette coming towards them. It couldn’t have already been ten minutes. But even when they were kids, she never listened to anyone. His mistake was thinking she would start today.
“I -“ she’s out of breath, her hair messily parted to the side but she must have looked like a fallen angel to Taemin with those twinkles in his eyes, “I still can’t believe it was really you, Taemin.”
Brushing pass Jongin, Taemin moves to her like a bee to honey. “M - me neither“ he looks mind boggled by this situation, Jongin is too but in an entirely different way, “W - what brought you to a place like this?”
“I..uh…” Krystal fidgets with the button of her blazer, “I did ballet, tap and jazz when I was younger,” fumbling with her words, she steals a glance at him, “I thought it would be fun to see what these b-boying competitions are like, so I showed and yeah, you know how the rest of the story goes.”
“You can dance?”
The irony isn’t lost to him: Taemin has never liked a girl since middle school; and that one could barely be counted as a crush but the one time he decides to be infatuated, it had to be Krystal. Any other girl who’s half a psycho that Krystal is and he would have gladly played the wingman.
“I mean I know how to, doesn’t mean I’m any good at it. To be honest, I haven’t practiced in a long time now,” she replies with a nervous giggle that must be music to Taemin’s ears, “You were really cool up there though. I could barely see with everyone up on their feet.”
It’s fascinating and sickening at the same time to see Taemin act in such manner around a girl: attentive all the things she has to say like he’s hanging on her every word. It’s as if he wanted to learn all there is to know about her and it would still not be enough. Jongin doesn’t know what it is but it’s in a different league with what those other dick wipes at school feel for her.
“You were really good too, Jongin.”
He was ready for mocking with a heavy handed dash of sarcasm; not sincerity.
“Why are you wearing Jongin’s jacket?”
Just when he thought it couldn’t get worst than this - it does.
“Oh this thing,” Krystal lets out a nervous chuckle, tugging at the green material with convincing nonchalance, “I was asking around for you and this guy ; he must have thought that me knowing you means knowing Jongin - like you guys are a package deal or something like that. Anyway,” she clears her throat, flashing at him one of those shy girl smile she’s been using against Taemin, “You left it on your way in. Since you have such little appreciation for it, I’m going to wear it for now. It’s like an ice box in here!”
Taemin looks to have been thoroughly persuaded by her story. But at this point, Jongin’s sure that if Krystal told him unicorns exists he would go and hunt down one for her.
“We’re all about to go grab dinner,” Taemin says bashfully, “You should come with.”
“It’s already late, she should get ho -“
“Sounds fun but it’s going to have to be some other time,” Krystal is perfectly apologetic when churning out that line, “Suho’s probably worried sick. I didn’t tell him I was going out after school. I do not want to deal with his shit when I get home.”
“Oh okay…”
Taemin looks like someone had kneed him in the balls. It’s painful to watch.
“Are you headed home now?” It takes him a second to realize that Krystal’s addressing him with that question and not Taemin.
“Uh…yeah”
Taemin frowns, at what exactly he is not sure. “You’re not coming out with us?”
“I’m going to have to pass for tonight, man,” Jongin says immediately, his voice thick, “I’m gonna go home and finish off that chapter on stem cells to make up for the classes I’ve missed this week.”
“Great,” Krystal chirps, “Your house is not too far by, right? You can give drop me off on the way.”
“He’s got a bike.”
“I know,” she says gently and aims a half-smile at him. Jongin cannot tell if it’s from beneath the mask or on the surface but it makes him feel transparent. “It’s okay, he sucks on the road but what other choice do I have but to trust him?”
And if that was a joke, he didn’t find it funny.
-
To her credit, Krystal wasn’t exactly wrong - Suho is kind of making her deal with his shit - though it’s mostly directed at Jongin.
“Where the hell did you guys go?” The door flies open with a big sigh of relaxation the guy has probably been holding for long enough to burst, “Chanyeol called and said you took off with her -“
“More like I took him with me,” Krystal corrects.
Suho looks back and forth between them, demands an answer, “What happened?”
“Who the fuck is that?” Someone from the inside yells loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“The owner of this house,” Jongin returns with a tired sigh, pleading with his eyes for Suho to move out of the way and in the end, he gives in and let them through.
A particularly sweaty hand wraps itself around her elbow, Krystal doesn’t even have to look to shake it off right away. “What happened?” He asks with a touch of impatience, “Sehun and Chanyeol haven’t gotten back yet but he doesn’t look okay.”
He, meaning Jongin, because honestly he was pretty bashed up.
“Why are you asking me what happened? Ask those smug bastards with either a black eye, a concussion, a broken back or all of the above. You don’t see me hobbling through the door,” Krystal says coolly, taking off Jongin’s jacket and dumping it in Suho’s unwilling arms, “And he’s okay; nothing that will permanently ruin his good looks so don’t sweat - some more - over it. Oh and also, we snuck into one of your fancy ass’s clinic and got some first aid treats. Thanks for taking one for the team.”
Suho’s already a bubbling mess, trying to actually make sense and be appropriate at the same time but that usually takes a while so she turns a deaf ear. She’s (still) stuck here and starving, which means time to act like she actually lives in this prison and raid the fridge.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m back early?” The one with a really big head and alien eyes asks, looking pleased with himself as he rocks back in his chair.
“Why are you back early?” Jongin repeats robotically.
“Because,” his smile is so joyful that it gives her the creeps, “We sold everything we had left.”
“Throw a party,” Krystal mocks, pulling the fridge’s door open, “You don’t have to invite me, just let me go home with a bottle of vodka.”
The fugly son of a bitch makes a face at her and if he’s five years old enough to do it, she is too.
“Even all the motor parts?” Jongin asks the guy and he nods, though the younger boy doesn’t seem to accept it, “It’s only been a few weeks, hyung, we couldn’t have sold off everything.”
“We wouldn’t have,” He says with a huff, then shoots her a dirty look, “If someone didn’t steal the other half and sold it off in the black market.”
She shrugs, “You never know if it’s to the black market. Even I don’t know.”
“Oh everyone, do you hear the good news?”
“We need to sit down and discuss whether we should close down business for mean time,” Shit-ho butts in before she could flip Kyung-whatever off. She knows she’s a refreshing beauty but he should be getting used to it by now and stop with the double take. “Are you drinking straight from the carton?”
The carton of milk freezes in her hand as she swallows down the cold liquid, replies with the obvious, “Uh yeah”
“That’s disgusting,” the other one gives his two cents that no one asked for.
“Are you telling me that in this house of five male, none of you drink out of the carton?”
“Six,” Suho corrects her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Krystal says sarcastically, reaching over for a cup because she’s apparently living like a cavewoman amongst such fine gentlemen, “I can’t tell the difference when you all look so much alike. Do you go to the same hairdresser? Next time tell her to go easy on the highlights.”
“Everyone here is hygienic,” Jongin says, plucking the carton from her hand and dropping it in the trash, “Except Baekhyun.”
“There was basically full,” she exclaims at how ridiculous these idiots are being, “Whatever. I’m going to my room so I don’t have to listen to you bore me to death in your monotone voices.”
She has better - more important things to do anyway; like find out what more Jongin’s got hidden down there in that room.
-
“We’re heading back,” Sehun announces, hanging up on his phone.
“Hyung, we can’t go back to school looking like this.”
“Not school,” He says simply, feeling the pain shoot up his leg as he stands, “We’re going back to Jongin’s.”
Chanyeol visibly relaxes at that decision. “Are the - those two already there?”
When Chanyeol says “those two” like he is afraid to group them together in a collective pronoun, Sehun concludes that he is indeed talking about Jongin and Krystal.
Silently, he nods his response. Gritting his teeth as he bends over to put on his shoes. Choi Seunghyun did really have a talent in breaking bones and wounding your pride while doing it.
“Hyung,” Chanyeol starts, keeping his voice even, “About the plan you’ve got in mind -“
“We’re going through with it.”
“After all that, you can’t tell me you’re still going to make her -“He swallows, then quietly, “How are you going to feel if she dies on the night?”
“We don’t know that she will,” he says but it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears, “And if she does what is it to me, to you or to any of us?”
“I don’t know!” Chanyeol cuts in sharply, running his fingers through his blood tinted hair,“ She basically saved our ass today. I don’t know about you hyung, but if she didn’t jump in at the last minute, it’s a pretty sure bet that Seunghyun would have left your dead body for us to find.”
“No one asked her for help.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Chanyeol gives a jerky little shake of the head, “You’re just proving my point that no one had to force her to help - she just did.”
“So it is that easy to earn your sympathy,” Sehun quirks a brow, “Get up, Chanyeol. If you want to so badly to tell her tale of redemption, you better do it in front of an audience who’ll take it into account.”
Jongin surely will, Sehun thinks to himself, disgruntled by what could be considered as an impending betrayal from his friend’s part. He had not made it clear to any of them whether he is giving the plan a blessing or a dubious pass in a losing game. The pair of them, not made of the same blood line but brothers by bonds and life’s harassment - loyalty they swear it and he wouldn’t dare doubt him. But how long does Jongin think he can hide from him? Not that Sehun couldn’t predict the final word if his sentiment’s dictation gets in the way.
“Why do you suppose Jongin kissed her that night?”
Chanyeol shrugs, his body half way out the window. “He’s hot, she’s hot. That’s what hot people do when they see each other: make out.”
-
Okay, so she admits that Jongin is really organized. The good side to that is there are no spiders in the basement (thank god) but the bad side to that is if she as so much as touches something, he probably could dust her fingerprints off and give it to their tech guy (do they even have one?). Does that work for her ass too? Because she’s going to need to sit down to think about her game plan here.
She really didn’t think this one through.
“Right, what do we have here…”
So far: a square box with no label, another square box on top of it also with no label, another one next to that one with a scratch on its side - basically just bunch of boxes stacked on top of another. That eyesore of a white dress is neatly folded and stashed away in the half opened trunk. She could see the flats too; dried mud clumped at the toe and the ribbon wonky on the left one. How these items are with him and not in stored away in evidence bags, she’d never know.
Crouching down on bended knees, Krystal stares at pyramid of boxes that he’s created. Where to start? She couldn’t be sure all of them contained Jung Soojung’s belongings or related belongings anyway. Either she was going to have to get her hand dirty. As much as she’d like for the lids to magically pop open on its own, she doubts she’s going to discover a new found talent in telepathy anytime soon.
“Fuck it,” wiping her palms furiously on her frumpy school skirt, she takes a deep, calming breath then lunges for the canvas box at the right top corner.
And she will never be ready, Krystal understands that now. She’ll never be able to look this girl in the face and accept that this is a part of her that can’t and won’t die. Her long, raven hair in a loose braid resting at the nape of her neck as her big, fat smile shines for the camera.
“So we meet again, Jung Soojung,” a lump form in her throat when her fingers trace the letters on the certificate before plucking the aging picture away from the paper clip, “Don’t look too sad. She might have beaten you then but you’d be happy to hear that you can easily kick her skinny ass today.”
She picks up the silver medal, her hands trembling as she holds it up. There was no victory for her on that day, she was so close yet too far from that finishing line to be the first to touch it. She stopped swimming for a month after that humiliating defeat to an overly buff girl from the class next door. Jung Soojung hated losing, Krystal does too - the difference is she never loses.
Putting it all back in the box, Krystal puts it aside on the rocking chair next to the book shelf Jongin’s substituted for a collector’s space. Silently, she scolds herself for shaking so much - what is she so scared of? It’s not like she’s going to see something she hasn’t before. Krystal removes the lid of the smaller green box hidden under the first one.
It’s her first pointe shoes, she holds in her squeal of horror. The tattered pair lies atop of one another; the ribbons joined together in a neatly tied bow. Krystal can’t bear to touch it. The true age of her once beloved item shows itself through the dirty edges, the scratches all over the platform and the most telling sign of all; dots of crimson red staining the sock liner. She didn’t recognize it at first but the box is her own; this shoebox she stashed away under her bed.
The urge to chuck these shoes and the memory comes at the brick wall is so intense that she has to clamp her hand down on her mouth to stop a scream of pure agony from leaving. How did he get his hands on these? More importantly: who the hell did he think is to take and keep them for himself? Ballet had been hers: the pain, the endurance and the beauty of it was all hers and no one else’s. She had left it in under the roof of that fucking prison so that it would forever remain there with all the dreams she couldn’t have for herself.
What else did he steal from her?
Reckless as it is, Krystal pulls apart the next one then the next then the next until the confrontation becomes too much for her to take.
“Why would you do this?” She whispers, her words faint to her own ears, “Why the hell would you still keep this?”
Her eyes roam over the items as if they are trying to familiarize with what’s laid down in front of her. There are things here that don’t matter to her; trophies she’s won from futile school competitions. But how did he know what had mattered? How did he know it would be the Minnie mouse Polaroid that she almost took with her when she ran? Did he know that her sister is the one who gave her this jar of paper stars? Her century old Ipod is covered in a layer of dust and a pair of tangled ear buds. She loved every single Britney’s songs she had on there; he couldn’t even get into one of them.
He had kept all that you could of a dead girl, except for the girl herself.
-
“I don’t understand why we’re having this discussion,” Suho takes his glasses off and smoothes a hand over his wrinkled face, “I thought we already decided two hours ago that we’re going to close business until the new stock comes in.”
Kyungsoo bristles. “And I thought I won’t have to repeat myself again but obviously I’m going to have to do it again! It’s going to take at least five months from now for any stock to be imported because a month ago, when they asked when we want the next delivery made, we - ”
“Didn’t know that a hot babe would have the hots for our pipes”
Chanyeol stifles his laughter; either at Baekhyun’s lame joke or the steam coming out of Kyungsoo’s ears.
“Pipes? Get it, motor pipes - we deal pipes and wheels and motor -“ Coming to terms with the lack of humor present in the room, Baekhyun lowers his head and gaze to his twiddling thumbs, “Ok, so not as funny as I thought.”
Quickly before someone could beat him to it, Jongin speaks up for the first time. “We can afford to wait five months with the money we’ve made in the last year,”
“Thank you,” Suho exclaims, throwing his head back.
“We can,” Kyungsoo nods, pouring himself more beer, “But I don’t want to.”
“Yah! Yah! You self-centered bastard,” Baekhyun looks outraged, “What about what I want?”
Chanyeol rolls his eyes, pulling Baekhyun down by his scrawny arm, “We, hyung, it’s what we want.”
“What the Yoda said!”
“Who are you calling a Yoda?!”
Raising a hand as if it could stop those two, Kyungsoo , “We voted last time -“
“I didn’t.”
At once, they turn to him but their eyes all convey different things. Because while Suho might have felt a little less alone in his fight and Chanyeol secretly ashamed for going against his heart’s content. The other three could not be swayed.
Sehun cocks a brow. “You said you had no problem going along with my plan.”
“I never said if I did or didn’t,” Jongin points out, his hands folded on the table tops, “I said there was no point to me casting my vote when it wouldn’t change the outcome either way.”
“So you would vote against me?” Sehun asks bluntly.
And Jongin knows his question is asking for much more than one might initially think. Sehun is the eye of the storm; the calmness in the midst of a deadly disaster. He isn’t asking him if he disagreed with his plan or challenging him to come up with a better one because this doesn’t just stop at Krystal and Soojung and bloodshed and greed. Sehun was willing him to think carefully about his answer; he could be with him or against him - not both.
“Yes” He tries his best to keep his voice steady, finger nails digging into his palm, “I would and I do.”
“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo thunders.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sehun declares icily, his cold gaze never breaking away from his, “Jongin can do whatever he wants but it’s still four against two.”
Sehun’s new found resentment is subtle but there. They have dismissed each other; said all there is need to be said to know that brothers can denounce one another when it needed to be done. Jongin had seen it today; he had seen a part of her he thought was only alive in his memory. Because it’s not enough to be close enough to touch her but not know which version of her he is getting. It will never be enough to wake up each morning and tell himself to remember that she was there so he’d never forget it was real.
“W - I ca - I can’t do this, sorry Kyungsoo and Seh -“
“You’re going to vote with them too?!” Kyungsoo cries, livid, “What is your fucking problem? Suho, I can understand cause he likes to think he’s a fucking priest but why the hell would you,” He sends a glare his way, “And you too, Jongin, do you think we’re running a charity? Do you think this is a joke? You and your fucking trust fund can go fuck yourself in the asshole. ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t have the fucking dough to keep myself afloat until a Christmas miracle happens.”
Chanyeol shuffles over to Kyungsoon gingerly, his hand barely touched the older boy’s shoulder before he slapped it away like his touch is poisonous. “You can’t fucking afford it either. Did they buy you off, huh? They put you in school and now paying you to play on side too, is that it?”
“Calm down, Kyungsoo.”
“Shut your fucking face, Suho,” Kyungsoo snaps, pouncing at full force and yanking him up by his shirt collar, “This is all your fault. Do me a favor and stop acting like you’re so holy when you’re just as bad as the rest of us. Shit, you’re even worse than I am. At least I’m not a fucking hypocrite -“
“Stop it” Jongin snarls, rising out of his chair, “Just because you can live with blood on your hands for the rest of your fucking life, doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”
Kyungsoo laughs in ridicule, letting go of Suho and shoving him to the side. “We don’t even fucking know if she’ll die! And you know what if she doesn’t then she gets off - no negotiation, no knife fights! She can skip out of here, whistling if she wants to!”
“She won’t make it back and you know it” Suho croaks, rubbing his hand around his soon to be bruised neck, “She will die trying to get into the system and we won’t get a cent.”
“Or I won’t and you’ll have to let me go”
“My princess!” Baekhyun squeals like a mental case, springing out of his seats and leaping at Krystal, “I was wondering when you were going to come safe me from these maniacs.”
Moving away from the door and letting Baekhyun fly straight through it, Krystal keeps her chin raised up high and takes a step further. She looks bored as she glances around at all six of them; flicking a pencil off the table before settling down on the empty surface.
“So this is where you all have your slumber party,” Krystal says with a yawn, “Do you think you can keep it down next time? You made it way too easy for me to eavesdrop.”
Kyungsoo fumes. “Get the fuck out.”
“Eh - wrong,” She mocks, beckoning him to come closer, “That’s not what you say to someone who’s about to make your dream comes true.”
“Krystal,” Suho tries, his tone desperate, “Leave, please.”
“Sweet of you but,” She patronizes, “You’re supposed to beg me to stay, not to leave. God and I thought you were the smart one.”
“I know right,” Baekhyun chirps, throwing an arm around her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Krystal, you can rely on me. I’m the smart one.”
“Right and Sehun’s the happy one out of you all,” She whacks his arm away, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “So from what I can gather from Kyungsoo’s wailing like a baby: there’s a microchip and money involved. The next stock of motors won’t be delivered in a while - you’re all welcome. I’m basically guaranteed to die if I go through with whatever evil genius plan Sehun thought up in the shower -“
“Will you get to the fucking point already?”
“Hmm…” Krystal ponders, tapping her chin with her fore finger, “If I was to try and deduce this I’d say: you’re making me - well, now asking me, because you can’t even agree on something,” she rolls her eyes then continues, “To heist a gazillion wons worth of motors but somehow that involves hacking into a system. Now that part, I’m not seeing in the bigger picture.”
Kyungsoo growls. “Are you going to do it or not?”
“Depends,” She shrugs nonchalantly, then turning to Sehun, “What system?”
“Doesn’t matter to you what it’s for -“
“Tracking down the location of the vehicles is not difficult,” Sehun launches into the details of his plan, “Our problem is accessing it; it’s not practical for all of us to break into the storage and take all the vehicles in one night. We run a high risk of getting caught. It’s safer and quicker if we can get into the system, then alter the data to fit our own.”
“Oh okay, I get it,” Krystal flashes a smile like a Cheshire cat, “You’re too much of a chicken shit to perform your own big scale robbery so you want to erase half the stocks from the data. That way no one ever knows those cars, bikes, motor parts etc. exists in the first place and you can all take whatever you please.”
“Uh well…” Baekhyun clears his throat, “Not half but yeah, you’re about right. Good job!”
“And if I do this -“
“Then you’re even more stupid than I give you credit for,” Jongin grits, striding over to her.
“What is this?” She scoffs. “Is this your way of saying you care for me? At least Suho was more upfront about it.”
“This conversation is over,” He announces with finality, “The votes were tied. We’ll continue this another day.”
“No, it isn’t,” Krystal insists, walking over to Sehun and looking him square in the eyes, “If I get you access to the data, my part of the deal is done. I am done. I have paid off my debt to you and allowed to leave. Yes?”
“Yes!” Kyungsoo yells in frustration, “You can do whatever the fuck you want!”
“No, not from you,” she swivels around to face the other boy, a hand resting on her hips, “I want to hear it from him. Swear to me that I am free to leave once that data is yours to do whatever you want with.”
Jongin doesn’t want to look at either of them - doesn’t want to see the accusation from the one person he never thought he’d let down and her, none of this is for her. And since all he’s good for is withholding their truth, if she doesn’t know how to stop herself from going there: it’s never been about her.
Taking a shuddering breath, he tries, “Don’t -“
“Your word,” it’s resounding the way she offers herself up, “Your word, Sehun, or I could tell him about the ones you didn’t keep.”
“Yes,” Sehun answers before Jongin could even question her cryptic threat, “You get me that data and you’re no longer of any use to us.”
“Thank god,” Kyungsoo moans, burying his head in his lap, “I thought I was going to miss the new episode of Running Man.”
Baekhyun perks up at this. “Is that on tonight?!”
“Ten minutes before it starts,” Kyungsoo gets up on his feet for a stretch then clasps a hand over Baekhyun’s back, helping him out of his chair, “So fucking glad we’ve got this done and over with. Did we end up throwing out that bottle of soju?”
“I need training.”
And Jongin’s somewhere between livid and befuddled when her fingers wound itself around the sleeve of his shirt, scratching the already loose button until it comes undone. He’ll never know if her plea is for him to understand or be there because he can’t give her neither without losing himself in the process.
“Uh training?” Baekhyun is clueless, “Like running a mile to get fit or weight ‘cause I can totally do that, yeah, I go to the gym everyday - like pfft, two times a day? Easy!”
“We need to prepare her,” Sehun surmises, already half-way out the room, “She needs to be prepared to take down any firewalls, have enough information on the blueprint of the building to know where she’s heading at all times and handle any obstacles if she runs into any.”
“You mean obstacles she will run into,” Suho retorts.
Not bothering to look back, the boy serves him the harsh truth, “Your attitude won’t make a difference.”
“Okay, agreed,” Kyungsoo’s too satisfied with his night to let it be ruined by anymore retaliation from Suho’s part, “We’ll have a meeting first thing tomorrow’s morning. I don’t know about the rest of you little shits but I’m ready to call it a day.”
Chanyeol aggressively mumbles something under his breath, kicking the air and pulling his snapback even further down to cover his face. And he’s not too blind to call it what it is: she’s going in for the kill and will be killed for it.
Jongin doesn’t notice who comes and go; not the hands squeezing his shoulder in awkward comfort and casual ‘good night’s hollering from the other side of the walls. But he can still feel her standing beside him and he’s hoping she’s not waiting for anything because he’s got nothing this round - no smart dialogues, no quips and definitely not condolences.
“I know what you’re thinking -“
“You shouldn’t care what I think” Jongin warns her stiffly.
“Then you shouldn’t care if I die.”
As he turns to face her, his eyes doubles in size and mouth goes dry.
Then it dawns on him that what he wanted to say to her along is: don’t you dare not come back. That it was never okay for her to waltz back into his life like she never went missing in the first place. Jongin clenches his eyes shut; the crippling epiphanies are enough to make him wrench his hand away from her desperate grasp.
“Do whatever you want,” He spits, distancing himself from her with lightning steps.
“Look me in the eyes,” she voice is soft but it’s enough to still him, “You have to look me in the eye if you’re going to say shit you don’t mean. Or else it’s not fair.”
They lock eyes across the room and the sight of her knock the air out of him. He sees her sometimes, laughing outside a classroom, biting the end of her pen during a lecture and they are flashes of a girl he never wants to forget. But standing there with that vulnerability engraved into her pretty features and not the mask she wears for the rest of the world to see, she looks too much like Soojung for him to take
Her feet begin to move on their own accord. She’s coming towards him and he knows he is out of his league.
“I can't be here,” Krystal murmurs as she stops next to him, “I - I need to get out.”
Krystal doesn’t wait for a reply, knowing he hasn’t got one for her. She pivots on her heel and rushes out of the room and so does the air from his lungs.