Hotel California Part 3
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Kibum had never been one for sightseeing. Even when he’d first arrived in Italy he’d been more intent on studying the landscape for his potential artwork than famous monuments. He preferred a quiet day spent at home. They rarely had schedules that coincided with one another anyway, so why not spend them with just the two of them?
But here he was, being dragged around Venice by an overenthusiastic Zhou Mi. The taller man had taken on the role of tour guide with a giddy vigor, pointing out places he’d been, places he held photoshoots, and places he thought that the two of them needed to go.
Kibum indulgded him only because it was their anniversary. He wasn’t one to acknowledge those kinds of things openly. He wasn’t good at expressing himself and he definitely wouldn’t call himself a romantic individual, so he supposed that this was the least he could do. He expressed his love by doing things he normally didn’t want to.
Zhou Mi’s hand was sweaty, palms pressed together, fingers entwined. They were given odd looks-Kibum had always been uncomfortable with that, the reason he rarely enjoyed “dates” -but Zhou Mi ignored them, too intent on spending this time with Kibum to be bothered by the judgemental stares thrown their way.
“There’s a cafe that sells really good gelato nearby.” Zhou Mi tugged on his scarf. “Want to try some?”
“Alright.” Kibum murmured absently, reaching up to pull his hat down around his ears. They’d begun to ache from the cold.
Zhou Mi’s smile widened as he lead Kibum down a second cobblestone-paved street, past a group of gossiping old women and a couple with a similar destination as their own. He supposed being as open and carefree as Zhou Mi about his homosexuality was a talent worthy of respect.
“Kibum-ah, you aren’t enjoying yourself at all, are you?”
Kibum blinked, only then noticing that the two had come to a stop at the entrance of a small shop. Zhou Mi was peering down at him from behind his glasses-leopard-print this time-and his expression was in-between a pout and a frown.
“I’m fine.” Kibum answered back, giving a small half-smile. He paused, “Go and get the gelato. I’ll be right back.” Their fingers parted, and Zhou Mi looked crestfallen for a moment before he nodded, going inside with a small nod.
When he stepped outside a few minutes later it was to Kibum’s shy smile and an armful of roses. Kibum’s smile fell a bit as he blushed, turning to look the other direction as he held them out. “I didn’t know what to get you.”
Zhou Mi let out a soft, breathy laugh, and Kibum wondered briefly if he was going to cry. Zhou Mi simply grabbed the flowers and paused, blinking as he spotted the soft gold glinting from under the leaves. “...Kibum-ah...”
“You said you wanted one.” Kibum grabbed Zhou Mi’s hand and slipped the watch on, fastening it.
Zhou Mi nodded, before he leaned down and kissed Kibum on the cheek, grabbing his hand and tugging him down the street, gelato forgotten.
Kibum didn’t want to be awake, or alive. He pressed his face against the pillow and breathed in the scent of laundry detergent, refusing to open his eyes. Perhaps if he didn’t look, none of it would be real.
It was suffocating, he could barely breathe. Sungmin had his arms wrapped around him so tightly he couldn’t move. It was as if Sungmin were afraid to let go.
...he’d always been afraid to let go.
---
They met up at the cafe the next day.
Ryeowook smiled brightly as Sungmin entered through the doors, but his smile faded a bit at Sungmin’s appearance. He looked pale, and even though he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. Something was missing. They looked dull, almost dead.
“Good morning.” He murmured, and he sat down, ordering a coffee from the wiatress almost mechanically.
Ryeowook frowned.
“I couldn’t find anything.” Sungmin finally spoke, pulling out the photograph and sliding it across the table to Ryeowook. “I don’t think this picture is going to help. I don’t think anything is going to help.”
For some reason, those last words seemed to mean something completely different. Ryeowook couldn’t quite decipher it. He simply nodded, “It’s alright, you tried. We’ll find something else-”
“We should stop. He’s gone.” Sungmin looked out the window. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact with Ryeowook at all costs. “Kibum is gone.” It came out in a harsh, ragged whisper. “I don’t want to look for him anymore.”
Ryeowook remained silent. He didn’t know quite what to say to that. What could he say? Sungmin seemed changed, different, as if something had happened that had finally broken him. Did he know something that Ryeowook didn’t? Had he found something out?
“Sungmin-ssi-” Ryeowook began, but was cut off by Sungmin’s phone ringing.
Sungmin fished in his jacket pocket for it and frowned as he stared down at the number before speaking in Italian. “Hello? Yes...yes this is Lee Sungmin. My...what?”
Ryeowook watched as Sungmin’s face began to pale. “My...carbon monoxide...?” And then Sungmin was up, shoving away from the table as quickly as possible, the look of panic that flashed across his face so sudden that Ryeowook couldn’t react and by the time he’d realized what had happened, Sungmin had already burst through the doors.
“Sungmin-ssi...” Ryeowook blinked, staring at the door Sungmin had just ran through, ignoring the stares of the other patrons of the cafe. It took him a few moments to realize that his own phone was ringing. He looked down at the number, recognizing it instantly. It was Hangeng.
He pressed the “accept call” button and pressed it to his ear. “Hankyung hyung?”
“Ryeowook.” Hangeng’s voice sounded odd, like he were trying to keep from crying.
Ryeowook fumbled with his phone, still wondering why Sungmin had run off in such a hurry. Why had he been so pale? Something was off. And why did Hangeng sound so off as well? Had Ryeowook missed something? “What is it, Hankyung hyung?”
“Heechul found out something from one of his contacts in San Vito.” Hangeng’s voice shook, “Ryeowook...there was a fisherman. He caught...he caught a white shark and they...they gutted it.”
Ryeowook nodded absently, brow furrowed. “And? What does this have to do with-”
“They found a hand in the shark’s stomach. It was wearing Zhou Mi’s watch.”
Ryeowook almost dropped the phone. He slid down into the seat he’d gotten up from, fearing that his legs would give out. “...w...what?”
“It was Zhou Mi’s hand. But it was...they did an analysis of it, Ryeowook. His fingers had been sawed off.”
Ryeowook put a hand over his mouth, fingers trembling. He could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes. His fingers had been cut off? He’d been...he’d been tortured? How could this have happened? Ryeowook felt sick. He wanted to puke and he would have done so if he hadn’t been sitting in the middle of a cafe.
“They managed to grab a fingerprint off of the watch. It was only a partial but I sent over fingerprints of some of the suspects we’d identified and...Ryeowook, it matched Lee Sungmin.”
Ryeowook dropped the phone. It hit the table with a soft clatter, a few people turning to look and see what the sound was about.
Lee Sungmin.
Lee Sungmin.
Lee Sungmin’s fingerprint was on Zhou Mi’s watch. Lee Sungmin’s fingerprint. Lee Sungmin had touched Zhou Mi. Lee Sungmin had killed Zhou Mi. Lee Sungmin had sawed off Zhou Mi’s fingers. Ryeowook launched himself out of his seat, ignoring the phone on the table, Hangeng’s voice calling out to him frantically.
How? How had he been so blind? Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? It all made perfect sense. Lee Sungmin was the jealous boyfriend. Lee Sungmin had found Zhou Mi and Kim Kibum together. He’d killed Zhou Mi-was Kim Kibum dead too?
Ryeowook didn’t remember hailing the taxi, but he found himself slamming against the side of one, pulling open the door, repeating Sungmin’s address in shaky Italian. The car pulled off of the curb and Ryeowook’s hand reached into his jacket, fingers curling around the butt of his Slovak semi-automatic.
He was going to kill him.
---
He’d woken up alone, again, and Kibum had wondered how he could live like this. It hadn’t taken long to decide that he no longer could. He spent a good ten minutes staring at the gas stove in the kitchen, wondering if he really had enough courage to go through with this.
He just wanted to leave. He just wanted to be with Zhou Mi again and for all of this to be over. He wanted to die, and somehow he’d gained the resolve to do so. Getting revenge for Zhou Mi didn’t seem to matter anymore.
He was too scared that if this continued he would fully break. He would start to love Sungmin again and then that would be betraying Zhou Mi in the worst way possible. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did that.
Fear of giving in overrode his fear of dying, it seemed.
Kibum swallowed, reaching out with shaky hands. He turned the first knob, then the second, third, and fourth. The soft clicking of the gas valve seemed to echo in the silence. He could smell it already.
Kibum slid down the side of the fridge. He swallowed, and his throat felt funny. This was it. He’d fall asleep and this time he wouldn’t wake up.
“Kibum-ah…we should adopt.”
“What? I don’t think I’ll be good with children.”
He let out a soft sob, clutching his bandaged hands to his chest.
“A puppy. I want a puppy. Or maybe a cat.”
“I thought you wanted a baby.”
“Why can’t we have both?”
The air was becoming thick, and he was getting sleepy. He’d gotten used to the noxious smell by this point, he could barely even tell it was there. His eyes slowly closed.
This was it.
He was finally going to leave this place.
“…saranghae…” The world went black.
“You never say it but…it’s alright, Bummie. You don’t have to.”
“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” Hot tears pelted his face, but Kibum couldn’t find the strength in him to open his eyes. He could smell fresh air, not the clean, filtered air of the basement. Actual air.
And wind.
He slowly cracked his eyes open to see Sungmin staring down at him, sobbing. “I’ll do better next time. Please don’t go. Please. I promise I’ll do better.” He buried his face in Kibum’s shirt. Kibum could feel the tears soaking through the thin cotton, but he simply stared up at the sky, fingers clutching blades of grass.
Outside.
This was what it felt like…such a wonderful place. He’d almost forgotten.
“Please, please.” Sungmin cried. “I promise I’ll do better. I promise.” Kibum’s eyes drifted closed again. He heard a sound, a loud crack, and then warmth across his face.
He closed his eyes and slept.
---
Ryeowook didn’t remember when he’d gotten out of the taxi, or begun running, or how far, only that by the time he reached Lee Sungmin’s villa it had already been too late. He’d watched Sungmin carry the man out, limp in his arms, and he thought he’s dead. I could have saved that man but I was too late and he’s dead. But that thought hadn’t lasted long.
It had been replaced with anger, rage, the blinding fury that came with the knowledge that this man had killed Zhou Mi. That he’d cut him up and thrown him in the ocean and tortured him until he’d bled to death.
Sungmin was crying, screaming, rocking back and forth as he held the dead man in his arms. He’d heard Ryeowook walking toward him and he looked up briefly.
For some reason his tear-filled face angered Ryeowook even more and he’d lifted his gun. He fired once, the bullet went straight between his eyes, and Ryeowook reveled in the small satisfaction he derived from the blood dripping onto the grass until he realized that he’d killed a man.
Ryeowook swallowed, stumbled forward, and was almost too afraid to get any closer to Lee Sungmin than the two feet between them. He dropped to his knees, eyes wide, breathing erratic. The fury and the adrenaline rush were fading rapidly.
He had killed someone.
He’d murdered a man.
“Zhou Mi…” He sobbed out. “…I did it…” He let out another hiccupped sob. It didn’t matter though. There was no satisfaction with this knowledge. Zhou Mi was dead. Kim Kibum was dead. And now Lee Sungmin was dead.
None of them would be coming back.
---
Ryeowook cleared his throat, pulling his coat tighter around his body as he gave a weak smile. “Hey Zhou Mi.” He whispered, cruching next to the plain grave. “I brought you something.” He placed the newspaper against the headstone.
The newspaper had been rolled up neatly, still packaged, but Ryeowook had read the article before, in the newspaper lying on his kitchen counter.
“Murderer” becomes Victim: The body of famous artist Kim Kibum found with Renowned Photographer Lee Sungmin. Evidence points to a murder-suicide. It seems that ex-boyfriend Lee Sungmin killed Kim Kibum’s current boyfriend, model Zhou Mi and kidnapped Kim Kibum. Model Zhou Mi has been cleared of all earlier charges in his regards to the case.
He wanted to feel proud of himself for clearing Zhou Mi’s name. It was what he would have wanted, right? No...he would have wanted Ryeowook to save Kim Kibum, the man he’d loved.
But Ryeowook had been too late.
He looked over at the tombstone flush against Zhou Mi’s, at the Hangul carved there. He always seemed to be too late.
It had been easy for Ryeowook, with the help of Hangeng and Heechul, to get the burial rights. Kibum had grown up an orphan. Sungmin was an only child and his parents had died several years earlier. And Zhou Mi...Zhou Mi’s parents refused to have anything to do with the body.
Even his death hadn’t changed their views on his sexuality. He was not their son any longer. Ryeowook could do what he wanted.
It had not been his intention to bury Sungmin with the other two. He didn’t deserve it. After everything he’d done, Ryeowook knew he would never forgive him. He had killed Ryeowook’s best friend and he had killed Kim Kibum.
But there had been something in Sungmin’s eyes, the way he’d looked up at Ryeowook with Kibum’s body limp in his arms. His eyes screamed, What have I done? I don’t deserve to live any longer. Ryeowook didn’t want to think of himself as a murderer, so he held a small consolation in knowing that perhaps Sungmin had wanted death as much as Ryeowook had wanted to kill him.
But that look would haunt him forever, as would the guilt at knowing that if he had been a little sharper, a little faster, he could have saved Kim Kibum.
When he buried them, he placed Zhou Mi a little closer to Kibum and he hoped that it somehow made a difference. He knew it didn’t matter. Their souls were no longer there anyway. But where had they gone? He’d been taught that homosexuality was a sin, so that meant that Zhou Mi and Kibum had gone to hell, hadn’t it? But they didn’t deserve that. Ryeowook wanted to desperately believe that the two of them, at the very least, had gone to heaven after all that they had been through. What had they done wrong at all except love?
But perhaps...that was true of Lee Sungmin as well.
What had he done wrong except love?
---
It...is...over...*faints*