[Fic] Before You Go - Chapter 27
Title: Before You Go
Pairing(s): Jaemin, Yoosu
Length: Chaptered 27/28
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: (gang) violence, language, abduction
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Summary: Jaejoong and his cousin have been swept up into the world of violence and gangs. The struggle and fight for his sanity is complicated greatly by the addition of a certain Shim Changmin into the mix. Will he be able to protect those he loves as well as save himself?
A/N: ooop, thot this would be the last chapter, but i guess nooot~ :)
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 - part 1 - part 2 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26
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The ride to the hospital was tense and dark, the taxi far from fast enough. Changmin’s death grip on his hand was hardly comforting as Jaejoong knew the only thing it did was prevent Changmin from dissolving into tears. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the other that his hand was cramping and that he hated to be touched when he was high strung and stressed.
He knew Changmin needed him, knew without even looking at the huddled mess of lanky limbs beside him. But he didn’t have anything to give. Didn’t know what to do. Because he hadn’t even known that Junsu was in trouble…hadn’t even considered that Yoochun could be calling for any other reason than to order him somewhere. Not expecting the man to sob garishly in his ears, and never expecting to hear the name of his cousin, spoken as if the man had already passed.
No. He didn’t believe it. He stared blankly ahead through the front windshield of the taxi, body rigidly tense and not responding to the little tugs and squeezes Changmin made at his hand.
As much as he knew he was being childish and stupid, he didn’t want to look into Changmin’s face. Because the guilt and stricken terror there were overwhelming, and he couldn’t honestly expect himself not to lash out or say something he would regret later.
It wasn’t Changmin’s fault. Even if he’d told him sooner, there was nothing they could have done. But he knew he should have planned on it anyway, should have gone to check on Junsu as soon as Shim’s house had been cleared out. He fiercely berated himself for his moment of weakness because nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met them in the glistening white hallway in front of the emergency room.
Yoochun was almost unrecognizable. His long wavy hair was a tangled mess obscuring his face, but Jaejoong could only stare in horror at his deep crimson dyed clothing. There was no way that could all be…Junsu’s…
Beside him, Changmin gave a low sound of shock, at last freeing Jaejoong’s hand from his own and stumbling forward to sink down next to Yoochun on the plastic waiting chairs. Jaejoong watched from where he stood frozen, detached, empty, as Changmin lifted a shaking hand to lay it on Yoochun’s shoulder.
The other man didn’t respond or make any sign of acknowledgement. Only leaned further forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. Hands that were bloody. Jaejoong’s stomach was a painful tight knot and his breath suddenly came short, his chest strained.
All these years he’d protected Junsu he’d never let him down, never ever let him get seriously hurt. The younger man had hardly ever even bled. Bruised plenty with split lips and minor cuts yes, but nothing a band-aid, home-cooked food, and hugs couldn’t fix. There was no way all of that blood was Junsu’s.
But Yoochun’s posture screamed at him loudly, striking more forcefully than any words could with the way he was hunched in pure pain and sorrow…there was no denying it.
He needed to see Junsu, now.
Mere seconds after thinking it he was already striding purposefully forward. Both hands clenched into fists by his sides as inevitably some nurses blocked him from bursting through the double doors that Junsu was somewhere behind. He couldn’t stop it when his expressionless mask of indifference slipped, cracking without his consent as pure fury bubbled up from deep inside, steaming up through him like hot water racing up to the surface.
“Get out of my way.” The words were short and clipped, burning on his tongue although they were hardly louder than a whisper.
He tuned out the automatic apologies, the empty useless reassurances and recitation of rules. The air he was sucking in was too thin, his brain going numb as his body reacted, reverting to years of controlled discipline and training, and before he could gasp in another breath his fist had literally flown without a second thought.
He didn’t pause to let his right senses retake control, and forced himself to turn away blindly from the shrieking women now crashed haphazardly on the floor. And people were running towards them, voices thick in the air, but Jaejoong was already pushing determinedly through the doors, slamming them open so forcefully they banged into the walls on either side.
Storming down the hallway now open before him, Jaejoong looked around with an odd sort of calm laying atop his frenzy like a thin layer of skin. It was ruptured and peeled back with a heartless jerk that brought tears to his eyes with the pain of it as he stopped in his tracks.
Latex gloves blood red up to the elbows, splattered across surfaces and tools, and enveloping a single small form in a sick puddle.
It took many long heart thundering moments before the static silence of the world melted apart, spiraling noise into his ears, feeling back into his body, and among it all he felt something clamping tightly around his arm.
Whirling, his free arm already lifting and ready to throw the person off, Jaejoong stilled as the face mere inches from his own was a haggard crumpled mess of Yoochun. The man’s eyes were red and swollen, standing out garishly on his ghastly pale face. His cheeks were still wet with tears that hadn’t yet stopped flowing, and his lips were so broken and chewed to pieces he almost couldn’t make out the teeth that were still embedded there.
What struck him the most was that Yoochun was staring fixedly at him, Jaejoong, rather than at the body surrounded by doctors whose quiet murmurs and steady calm tones slowly filtered through the hot fire filling his brain. The lack of panic or urgency filling the air, along with those piercing soulful eyes that were begging him silently for something, and Jaejoong found the hot air filling him up evaporating and hissing out of him almost as quickly as it had formed.
Although he didn’t know why, or what the other man wanted, why he didn’t want to stay by Junsu’s side now when he needed it more than anything, the hiss of hot air past broken lips was enough to have him turning away from where his cousin lay, eyes not lingering.
“Mr. Kim got away. He’s still alive.” A rattling breath and Yoochun’s wet clumped eyelashes fluttered feebly, sticking over raw eyes. “We need to kill the bastard.”
Jaejoong stared silently into eyes now spitting fire, glistening with so many emotions that he couldn’t even begin to read them. He wouldn’t be able to even if he tried. He only knew one, the same one that was igniting another slow lazy fire within his own chest.
“No.” He pried Yoochun’s fingers from his arm one rigidly stiff digit at a time, boldly meeting the eyes that were instantly flashing and hardening at the single word.
But his touch was as gentle as he could make it when he reached out and placed his hands on Yoochun’s shoulders instead. “Don’t you dare leave him.” He grated out, own voice unrecognizable with the way it seemed welded to the inside of his throat. “Don’t you fucking leave his side.” An unsteady breath. “I’m gona kill him.”
With the admission came a sudden cool calm, seeping through his churning chaotic insides, and he knew this was what he needed. He could take care of this, could get rid of once and for all the bastard who had started all of this, who had destroyed Jaejoong’s family, and now had thrown Junsu’s life away.
Yoochun’s eyes seemed to penetrate through him, sinking into his soul, reading him, and the barely visible way his shoulders sank, relaxing, was all Jaejoong needed to see. Steeling his resolve and forcing himself to brush passed Yoochun instead of turning to look again at the body he couldn’t believe was Junsu’s, Jaejoong swept back the way he’d come, bypassing the nurses who hung against the wall timidly as he passed.
Shoving out through the doors, he settled comfortably into that binding closed state of mind he none to recently previously used to live through each and every day. There was only one goal, survival, and only one means, destruction. And he was going to destroy that man until no one could even identify his mangled dismembered body.
“Hyung! Where are you going?”
Rushing footsteps and Changmin’s warm breath puffing into his ear, long arms encircling his chest and he stood still to let the younger man embrace him with all the sweet warmth and carefree innocence that was Changmin, that was youth and freedom, that used to be how Junsu would hug him…and his body trembled.
“Jaejoong…” A shaky tremor filled that voice he’d come to treasure, and he didn’t want to look into those big pools of eyes that would be flooded with emotions he had already shut tightly away. He couldn’t waver or back down, couldn’t look at Changmin who was his only weakness.
“Changmin-ah, let go.” Was not what he meant to say. He couldn’t stop now and wonder about what he was trying to do, how he would do it, or how he would come back alive. Thoughtless instinct was the only way to win, the only way to let himself disappear and be taken over by a heartless monster that thrived only on hurting others. Protecting himself. Protecting Changmin.
“B-but where are you going?” The instant hesitation, the fear laced into Changmin’s voice stung faintly at his heart, and he bit back a sigh.
He knew he wasn’t being rational or fair at all, but Changmin didn’t understand. He didn’t want to explain the danger he was throwing himself into nor say goodbye, because he was terrified it may actually become a real one.
With an effort, he lifted one hand and slid it gently along Changmin’s arm that still wrapped across his chest. The touch alone sent an aching something through his heart, and he closed his eyes against the feeling, the pull of everything good in the world. “I…gotta do something.” His voice cracked. “Go wait with Yoochun, okay?”
Changmin’s arms tightened slightly, holding him so tightly he could feel each quick breath that came from his chest, the erratic pumping of his heart. A long moment of silence drew between them, distancing them immensely for all the closeness their bodies shared.
Changmin held his breath a moment, and then let it out with a small desperate whimper, lips finding the back of Jaejoong’s neck. “You’ll come back?”
It was the last straw, he couldn’t fight it anymore and cursed Changmin for being so insufferably irresistible, and he couldn’t stop himself from twisting around in those arms, from sliding his hands to cup Changmin’s cheeks and tug him closer for a searing kiss.
Changmin trembled against him, clinging to him even as he took Jaejoong’s breath away with the soft brushes of his tongue, a passionate moment neither of them could bear to break first.
But then Changmin was pulling away, eyes brimming with tears as he looked into Jaejoong’s face a little helplessly. “Come back.” He begged brokenly, and Jaejoong had to kiss those trembling lips one more time, run his thumbs across his cheeks to wipe away the tears that slipped free, and then he was mumbling his promise against Changmin’s ear before he quickly turned away.
He forced himself to only look ahead because one look back would be all it took, one look back and he wouldn’t be able to leave. Shoving roughly through the glass doors and out into the chilly air, Jaejoong walked resolutely forwards, blaming the sudden sting in his eyes on the wind whipping irritatingly about him, throwing his hair into his face. But he couldn’t deny the ache in his heart as he’d only gone barely twenty quick paces away, yet his lips already felt cold.
***
He wasn’t sure how he got there, the subway ride a monotone blur, but it wasn’t long before he found himself outside of the house where he knew Mr. Kim would be hiding. Lurking within it like some sick predatory spider, letting men die helplessly and carelessly in the far reaches of his ensnaring web, while he remained safe and heavy in the center.
But this spindly web of protection was also the man’s biggest mistake, and at the moment his biggest weakness. Jaejoong knew the man had a high sense of security, a overflowing confidence, the belief that nothing could touch him in his position he’d so carefully constructed.
His hand moved of its own accord, punching in the pass code into the door lock, beeping it open and letting the door swing in. This was where Mr. Kim would fail, where his own protections would be used against him. And Jaejoong stepped into the hallway.
He was hardly into the house more than a few paces before he was met face to face with a pair of dark clad men. They didn’t say a word, eyes glinting in the dim light of the hallway as they looked him over. One of them went so far as to bow his head slightly in recognition, while the other merely took a single step back, enough to clear the way for Jaejoong to proceed towards the door at the end of the hall.
Hardly sparing them another glance, Jaejoong brushed passed them, feeling rather than hearing the way they moved to follow him like a pair of silent shadows. Pausing before the door, Jaejoong took a quick moment to calm his heart, closing his eyes and calling up the icy cold numbness that would be his mask, letting it creep across his face and turn his features to stone.
When he opened his eyes he would no longer be Kim Jaejoong with fiery anger and grief in his throbbing heart, no more Kim Jaejoong with the warm ache of love left behind him. No. He was empty inside and all that mattered was the man on the other side of the door, the one who would breathe his last within the hour.
The hand that landed on the door knob was as steady and strong as it had ever been, and he felt a small flicker of humorless smile tug at his mouth. This was still how he was most comfortable, slipping effortlessly back into his element - into cold detached nothing. And right now, he couldn’t stop to wish for the heat of gentle hands and even softer lips that were the only things that could call him back to himself and let him know that it was all okay in the same moment.
A quiet murmur of voices trickled into silence as he entered the room. It was dark and cramped, the air choked with heavy clouds of smoke trailing from the ends of cigarettes. The walls were lined with fewer men than he’d anticipated even with the two men who flanked him sliding over to fit in with their ranks.
All eyes were already locked on him, but he only could meet one of those gazes. The one of Mr. Kim sitting directly before him, lounging behind a narrow table cluttered with papers and cases filled no doubt with money.
Mr. Kim’s eyes surveyed him impassively, letting no emotions show, yet Jaejoong let himself believe he’d been around the man long enough to recognize surprise in the way one eyebrow arched up and greed in the way the edge of his lips curled.
“Jaejoong-ah. What a pleasant surprise.” The deep tone of the man’s voice was diluted with the dirty grate of a long time smoker, and silvery white smoke spilled from his mouth and nostrils as the words left him. Jaejoong allowed himself the momentary pleasure of imagining the man on fire from the inside, and knew Mr. Kim would take the small smile that he let cross his lips for an answer to the knowing glint in those greedy eyes. “I didn’t know you’d made it out alive.” The comment was offhand and airy light, but the look in Mr. Kim’s eyes only grew stronger, more insistent as Jaejoong bowed his head in acknowledgement.
“All thanks to you, Sir.” He let long seconds pass before he slowly lifted his head, letting his eyes be the last to raise from the floor to once again meet the man’s gaze.
The man smirked around the stick now protruding from between his lips. “Ha, ha, yes dear boy. You always did put up a good fight. Well, now. We should all be giving you a proper welcome.” Eyes flashed around almost imperceptibly at the men standing like silent statues around them, causing a bought of uneasy awkward shifting. “After all, now that there’s nothing left in your way I expect you to come stand by my right side.”
The ripple that went through the watching men at the words was stilled almost as soon as it began by another sharp sweep of those eyes. But Jaejoong didn’t move, didn’t even blink, as he let the meaning of the words sink in. Mr. Kim had just promoted him to the position of his heir.
As much as Jaejoong wanted to scream and explode at the way Junsu’s life was so easily and carelessly discarded, the rest of him clung to the fact that Mr. Kim was openly and loudly declaring his trust and belief in him. If it wasn’t the truth but a pretense to test him and his loyalties, then he was in deep trouble.
Maintaining his cold stony expression, Jaejoong waited for the man’s next move, for the revelation of his true intention, for some horrid command that would assuredly put Jaejoongg’s life on the line. There was nothing simple or easy to this, especially not when he’d announced it in front of the whole room. The hair on the back of his neck rose in tension as his heart sped up slightly.
Mr. Kim didn’t make him wait for long, leaning back in his chair and without dropping Jaejoong’s gaze lifted his left hand to the side in a silent demand. “The black box.”
A man instantly moved behind the desk, rummaging for something before producing a long rectangular box. It was placed in Mr. Kim’s waiting outstretched hand, and he lay it on the table with a cruel smirk falling into place. Jaejoong remained as impassive as he could, tried to stop his jaw from clenching and his heart from racing as the box was opened to reveal something he had thought he’d never see again, but something that he’d never once forgotten.
Mr. Kim’s eyes continued to rest on him, testing him, gauging his reaction as thick stained fingers reached out to caress down the shaft of the gun that glistened innocently from where it nestled within the box.
Jaejoong knew what this was even before the man opened his mouth. He didn’t need to see the expression on the man’s face, only needed to see the weapon now displayed before him to know that Mr. Kim was no longer testing him, but mocking him.
Jaejoong recognized it, and the look on Mr. Kim’s face showed he knew it too.
“Come here, Jaejoong-ah.” The now smugly satisfied twist of his lips was a clear indication of the way he was enjoying the moment greatly, and Jaejoong could do nothing but humor him. He walked stiffly forward until he was directly in front of the desk, the piece of wood the only thing now between them separating them. “I thought you would appreciate a little something to signify your new position.” A fake smile was directed up at him, all yellow teeth and skin pulling tightly across boney cheeks. Jaejoong forced himself to gaze steadily down at the weapon and avoid the sick enjoyment displayed on that face he hated so much.
“I’m honored, Sir.” He forced the words out, tasting like acid on hiss tongue. Because this wasn’t just any gun. This gun had started everything for Jaejoong, and Jaejoong knew what giving it to him now meant.
Upon Mr. Kim’s urging, he reached out to carefully lift the weapon from its place, letting it sit heavily in his hands. Yes, he knew what this meant, what holding this weapon should mean…but he couldn’t believe it was finally in his hands.
The weapon he’d watched with terror filled eyes, the weapon he’d come to look at with hatred and loathing, the one that had flashed before him and ended his father’s life in no more than a heart beat… the weapon that signified everything that was wrong in the world. Everything that he’d lost, and everything that was his destroyed future.
But not anymore… it was his. He ran one hand along its surface, fingers light on the intricate carvings inlaid in the silver material. It was beautiful…and nothing felt more right than holding it finally here in this moment. He was finally ready for it, and he could feel Mr. Kim’s eyes on him, watching him with a dark hooded expression, most likely completely aware of the thoughts flitting through his head, of the face passing before his eyes.
And Mr. Kim was leaning back in his chair, the smug look of someone who knows he’s won, someone who saw men as nothing more than things to use…but he was finally wrong about something. Jaejoong knew he would mistake the reverence he showed holding the weapon as some sort of sick fascination, a last connection of sorts to his father, and Jaejoong knew it was only fitting that it should be the same weapon to end his uncle’s life as well.
They met each other’s eyes, something electric and hard passing between them. A refusal to back down, a clashing challenge, and for a moment Jaejoong almost gave himself away. For a moment, Mr. Kim looked at him with sudden sharpness, and he reluctantly lowered his eyes in submission.
“At your orders, Sir.” He murmured, fingers curling around the handle of the gun so easily as if it had been waiting for his touch, ready for his intention.
Mr. Kim watched him for a few long moments, calculating and dark. Then he sucked a slow drag on his smoldering cigarette. “Lee. Step forward.”
The men in the room tensed automatically, a collective breath that was sucked in and held, stifling and suffocating as one man reluctantly, hesitatingly moved into the center of the room. Jaejoong could see him from the corner of his eye, the rigid set to his shoulders undeniable as one who had yet to learn how to hide his fear or school his emotions.
“Mr. Lee. I was told you failed to dispose of the evidence in your last deal.” Mr. Kim’s voice had taken on a slight purr, laced with threats and intent, and the meaning of the words sent a small chill down Jaejoong’s spine. He knew what his command was even before the next words were all the way out of Mr. Kim’s mouth.
Turning swiftly, he lifted his arm, easily pointing the gun directly at the stunned man’s heart, pinning him with ice hard eyes that didn’t back down even as they met the wide now terrified pleading eyes before him. Mr. Kim hardly had to tell him what to do, it was merely a press on the trigger and a ripping bang in his ears that left them ringing as the body collapsed to the floor.
Swiveling in his spot, Jaejoong turned to see Mr. Kim leaning back in his chair, eyes lit sickly with the blatant display of violence, and mouth once more curled in satisfaction. And he was in that moment oh so perfectly unprotected. It was now or never.
Before Mr. Kim could even commend him on orders well fulfilled, or promise him sweet nothings, Jaejoong squared his shoulders and once more raised the gun. He sucked in a single breath and then in quick succession, before anyone could react or even guess what he was doing, fired, gunning down the man with the disgusting pleased eyes standing to Kim’s right, then swinging to the left in a blur, the man only able to widen his eyes in shock before a bullet was pumped into his chest; finally whipping around to easily shoot down the other three men standing guard by the door.
None of them had been prepared, or ever suspected he would turn on them. And now he turned to face Mr. Kim who was watching him with sharp black eyes; if he was surprised he didn’t show it. His eyes were small and dark, calculating and looking over Jaejoong with what seemed to be even more interest than before.
A dark twisted heart that enjoyed cold blooded murder and ruthlessly killing one’s way for rank and profit. He seemed to approve of Jaejoong's method. “Although I resent that you just killed two of my best men, I am sure you’ll more than make up for it with your own skills.”
A cruel smile, a glint in those curving eyes, eyes so like junsu’s in their shape, but so different in their cold inhuman depths. Junsu’s eyes were open and sweet, so honest and beautiful. And all Jaejoong could think of, all he could remember was the way they were glued shut, bruised and swollen and so pallid white…as if the blood had stopped pumping through his veins already…and iron fingers were clenching around his heart so fiercely he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t need to breathe anymore to make it all right, didn’t need air to lift his arm, surprising even himself with the steadiness of his aim, and with the emotionless mask that formed his face despite the fire raging in his chest.
Mr. Kim didn’t move a muscle, didn’t react at all to having a gun now pointed point blank at his head. He met Jaejoong’s eyes full on, tilting his head ever so slightly back, eyes spitting cold steel.
“What else do you want?” His voice was deadly, lined with sharp edges, but Jaejoong just glared boldly back.
“I want Junsu back, you son of a bitch.”
He only gave the man mere seconds to process the words before his finger pressed firmly down on the trigger, sending a bullet ripping through the man’s temple. The shot echoed hollowly in the room, the only sound being the faint thud of Kim’s head as it flew back against the headrest of his chair with the force of the bullet. Then silence reigned.
Jaejoong didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, eyes staring fixedly at the slack face before him, the black eyes still open and staring at him, the spark of life in them fading as the face he hated slowly lost its color and red trickled from the hole piercing his skin. He could hear the blood dripping down the back of the chair and he knew the dead face before him would haunt him in more ways than one.
Sucking in a slow shuddering breath, Jaejoong let his eyes fall closed, trying to think over the numbness blanketing him with its foggy nothingness. He was dead. It was all over now. He was finally dead…he let his arm fall back to his side, hanging lifelessly beside him, gun somehow still clutched in his hand. His fingers seemed stiff and frozen as much as he wanted to uncurl them from the weapon he detested so much.
He knew he needed to move, to get out of there before any men came in a and found him amidst a room of dead bodies. They might look to him as the new boss, but it was more likely they would try to kill him first and ask questions later…but he couldn’t move.
All the hot fury and emotion had left him with that last huff of air…he felt so empty and drained. Because even though the man that caused all their troubles was now dead in front of him, it still didn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring Junsu back, and his fingers clenched even tighter around the gun in his hand.
When the phone in his pocket suddenly went off it startled his eyes open. The sound was loud and harsh in the room full of cooling dead bodies and he quickly fumbled his free hand into his pocket. Drawing it out, he couldn’t control the way his hand was shaking, tremors so violent he almost dropped his phone. A message indicating three missed calls blinked before the same number once again flashed across the screen, and all it took was a glance at that number and the gun slipped through his suddenly powerless fingers.
It was Yoochun.
He almost let the phone fall to the floor as well, but forced himself to accept the call, heart in his throat and sudden stubborn tears already stinging his eyes. He didn’t want to hear it but he had to know…he pressed the button and took a quick shaky breath that was more of a choked gasp before lifting the phone to his ear.
His eyes closed of their own accord and he couldn’t force a sound past his dry lips. There wasn’t a sound. No crying voices, no emotionless condolences of a life lost. Nothing. It could only mean one thing. His breath hitched painfully and the shivers that had plagued his hands now spread through his whole body.
Before he knew it he had sunken to his knees on the floor, mind blank and filled with white static. He gasped in another breath, ready to let it all out, to scream his despair into the ears that could no longer hear it when a faint voice spoke through the line. Just a single word, so hesitant and soft he almost didn’t hear it through the rush filling his ears.
Just one word was all it took to have him curling around himself pathetically, his own hoarse voice foreign to his own ears as a low cry left his mouth. Tears came unbidden from his eyes, and he was soon lost to broken sobs, uncontrollable as the disbelief flooding through his body.
Because the voice was one he never thought he’d hear again, and the way it called him he had never wanted to hear so badly. It was none other than Junsu’s voice, breathy and weak as he called again into the phone now clutched to Jaejoong’s ear, “Hyung?”
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tbc ~~
A/N: ack, abrupt ending again, but my brain just turned off nothing to say .... :> see you soon with the ending (i think) ! <3 <3 TT!!
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Pairing(s): Jaemin, Yoosu
Length: Chaptered 27/28
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: (gang) violence, language, abduction
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Summary: Jaejoong and his cousin have been swept up into the world of violence and gangs. The struggle and fight for his sanity is complicated greatly by the addition of a certain Shim Changmin into the mix. Will he be able to protect those he loves as well as save himself?
A/N: ooop, thot this would be the last chapter, but i guess nooot~ :)
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 - part 1 - part 2 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26
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The ride to the hospital was tense and dark, the taxi far from fast enough. Changmin’s death grip on his hand was hardly comforting as Jaejoong knew the only thing it did was prevent Changmin from dissolving into tears. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the other that his hand was cramping and that he hated to be touched when he was high strung and stressed.
He knew Changmin needed him, knew without even looking at the huddled mess of lanky limbs beside him. But he didn’t have anything to give. Didn’t know what to do. Because he hadn’t even known that Junsu was in trouble…hadn’t even considered that Yoochun could be calling for any other reason than to order him somewhere. Not expecting the man to sob garishly in his ears, and never expecting to hear the name of his cousin, spoken as if the man had already passed.
No. He didn’t believe it. He stared blankly ahead through the front windshield of the taxi, body rigidly tense and not responding to the little tugs and squeezes Changmin made at his hand.
As much as he knew he was being childish and stupid, he didn’t want to look into Changmin’s face. Because the guilt and stricken terror there were overwhelming, and he couldn’t honestly expect himself not to lash out or say something he would regret later.
It wasn’t Changmin’s fault. Even if he’d told him sooner, there was nothing they could have done. But he knew he should have planned on it anyway, should have gone to check on Junsu as soon as Shim’s house had been cleared out. He fiercely berated himself for his moment of weakness because nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met them in the glistening white hallway in front of the emergency room.
Yoochun was almost unrecognizable. His long wavy hair was a tangled mess obscuring his face, but Jaejoong could only stare in horror at his deep crimson dyed clothing. There was no way that could all be…Junsu’s…
Beside him, Changmin gave a low sound of shock, at last freeing Jaejoong’s hand from his own and stumbling forward to sink down next to Yoochun on the plastic waiting chairs. Jaejoong watched from where he stood frozen, detached, empty, as Changmin lifted a shaking hand to lay it on Yoochun’s shoulder.
The other man didn’t respond or make any sign of acknowledgement. Only leaned further forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. Hands that were bloody. Jaejoong’s stomach was a painful tight knot and his breath suddenly came short, his chest strained.
All these years he’d protected Junsu he’d never let him down, never ever let him get seriously hurt. The younger man had hardly ever even bled. Bruised plenty with split lips and minor cuts yes, but nothing a band-aid, home-cooked food, and hugs couldn’t fix. There was no way all of that blood was Junsu’s.
But Yoochun’s posture screamed at him loudly, striking more forcefully than any words could with the way he was hunched in pure pain and sorrow…there was no denying it.
He needed to see Junsu, now.
Mere seconds after thinking it he was already striding purposefully forward. Both hands clenched into fists by his sides as inevitably some nurses blocked him from bursting through the double doors that Junsu was somewhere behind. He couldn’t stop it when his expressionless mask of indifference slipped, cracking without his consent as pure fury bubbled up from deep inside, steaming up through him like hot water racing up to the surface.
“Get out of my way.” The words were short and clipped, burning on his tongue although they were hardly louder than a whisper.
He tuned out the automatic apologies, the empty useless reassurances and recitation of rules. The air he was sucking in was too thin, his brain going numb as his body reacted, reverting to years of controlled discipline and training, and before he could gasp in another breath his fist had literally flown without a second thought.
He didn’t pause to let his right senses retake control, and forced himself to turn away blindly from the shrieking women now crashed haphazardly on the floor. And people were running towards them, voices thick in the air, but Jaejoong was already pushing determinedly through the doors, slamming them open so forcefully they banged into the walls on either side.
Storming down the hallway now open before him, Jaejoong looked around with an odd sort of calm laying atop his frenzy like a thin layer of skin. It was ruptured and peeled back with a heartless jerk that brought tears to his eyes with the pain of it as he stopped in his tracks.
Latex gloves blood red up to the elbows, splattered across surfaces and tools, and enveloping a single small form in a sick puddle.
It took many long heart thundering moments before the static silence of the world melted apart, spiraling noise into his ears, feeling back into his body, and among it all he felt something clamping tightly around his arm.
Whirling, his free arm already lifting and ready to throw the person off, Jaejoong stilled as the face mere inches from his own was a haggard crumpled mess of Yoochun. The man’s eyes were red and swollen, standing out garishly on his ghastly pale face. His cheeks were still wet with tears that hadn’t yet stopped flowing, and his lips were so broken and chewed to pieces he almost couldn’t make out the teeth that were still embedded there.
What struck him the most was that Yoochun was staring fixedly at him, Jaejoong, rather than at the body surrounded by doctors whose quiet murmurs and steady calm tones slowly filtered through the hot fire filling his brain. The lack of panic or urgency filling the air, along with those piercing soulful eyes that were begging him silently for something, and Jaejoong found the hot air filling him up evaporating and hissing out of him almost as quickly as it had formed.
Although he didn’t know why, or what the other man wanted, why he didn’t want to stay by Junsu’s side now when he needed it more than anything, the hiss of hot air past broken lips was enough to have him turning away from where his cousin lay, eyes not lingering.
“Mr. Kim got away. He’s still alive.” A rattling breath and Yoochun’s wet clumped eyelashes fluttered feebly, sticking over raw eyes. “We need to kill the bastard.”
Jaejoong stared silently into eyes now spitting fire, glistening with so many emotions that he couldn’t even begin to read them. He wouldn’t be able to even if he tried. He only knew one, the same one that was igniting another slow lazy fire within his own chest.
“No.” He pried Yoochun’s fingers from his arm one rigidly stiff digit at a time, boldly meeting the eyes that were instantly flashing and hardening at the single word.
But his touch was as gentle as he could make it when he reached out and placed his hands on Yoochun’s shoulders instead. “Don’t you dare leave him.” He grated out, own voice unrecognizable with the way it seemed welded to the inside of his throat. “Don’t you fucking leave his side.” An unsteady breath. “I’m gona kill him.”
With the admission came a sudden cool calm, seeping through his churning chaotic insides, and he knew this was what he needed. He could take care of this, could get rid of once and for all the bastard who had started all of this, who had destroyed Jaejoong’s family, and now had thrown Junsu’s life away.
Yoochun’s eyes seemed to penetrate through him, sinking into his soul, reading him, and the barely visible way his shoulders sank, relaxing, was all Jaejoong needed to see. Steeling his resolve and forcing himself to brush passed Yoochun instead of turning to look again at the body he couldn’t believe was Junsu’s, Jaejoong swept back the way he’d come, bypassing the nurses who hung against the wall timidly as he passed.
Shoving out through the doors, he settled comfortably into that binding closed state of mind he none to recently previously used to live through each and every day. There was only one goal, survival, and only one means, destruction. And he was going to destroy that man until no one could even identify his mangled dismembered body.
“Hyung! Where are you going?”
Rushing footsteps and Changmin’s warm breath puffing into his ear, long arms encircling his chest and he stood still to let the younger man embrace him with all the sweet warmth and carefree innocence that was Changmin, that was youth and freedom, that used to be how Junsu would hug him…and his body trembled.
“Jaejoong…” A shaky tremor filled that voice he’d come to treasure, and he didn’t want to look into those big pools of eyes that would be flooded with emotions he had already shut tightly away. He couldn’t waver or back down, couldn’t look at Changmin who was his only weakness.
“Changmin-ah, let go.” Was not what he meant to say. He couldn’t stop now and wonder about what he was trying to do, how he would do it, or how he would come back alive. Thoughtless instinct was the only way to win, the only way to let himself disappear and be taken over by a heartless monster that thrived only on hurting others. Protecting himself. Protecting Changmin.
“B-but where are you going?” The instant hesitation, the fear laced into Changmin’s voice stung faintly at his heart, and he bit back a sigh.
He knew he wasn’t being rational or fair at all, but Changmin didn’t understand. He didn’t want to explain the danger he was throwing himself into nor say goodbye, because he was terrified it may actually become a real one.
With an effort, he lifted one hand and slid it gently along Changmin’s arm that still wrapped across his chest. The touch alone sent an aching something through his heart, and he closed his eyes against the feeling, the pull of everything good in the world. “I…gotta do something.” His voice cracked. “Go wait with Yoochun, okay?”
Changmin’s arms tightened slightly, holding him so tightly he could feel each quick breath that came from his chest, the erratic pumping of his heart. A long moment of silence drew between them, distancing them immensely for all the closeness their bodies shared.
Changmin held his breath a moment, and then let it out with a small desperate whimper, lips finding the back of Jaejoong’s neck. “You’ll come back?”
It was the last straw, he couldn’t fight it anymore and cursed Changmin for being so insufferably irresistible, and he couldn’t stop himself from twisting around in those arms, from sliding his hands to cup Changmin’s cheeks and tug him closer for a searing kiss.
Changmin trembled against him, clinging to him even as he took Jaejoong’s breath away with the soft brushes of his tongue, a passionate moment neither of them could bear to break first.
But then Changmin was pulling away, eyes brimming with tears as he looked into Jaejoong’s face a little helplessly. “Come back.” He begged brokenly, and Jaejoong had to kiss those trembling lips one more time, run his thumbs across his cheeks to wipe away the tears that slipped free, and then he was mumbling his promise against Changmin’s ear before he quickly turned away.
He forced himself to only look ahead because one look back would be all it took, one look back and he wouldn’t be able to leave. Shoving roughly through the glass doors and out into the chilly air, Jaejoong walked resolutely forwards, blaming the sudden sting in his eyes on the wind whipping irritatingly about him, throwing his hair into his face. But he couldn’t deny the ache in his heart as he’d only gone barely twenty quick paces away, yet his lips already felt cold.
***
He wasn’t sure how he got there, the subway ride a monotone blur, but it wasn’t long before he found himself outside of the house where he knew Mr. Kim would be hiding. Lurking within it like some sick predatory spider, letting men die helplessly and carelessly in the far reaches of his ensnaring web, while he remained safe and heavy in the center.
But this spindly web of protection was also the man’s biggest mistake, and at the moment his biggest weakness. Jaejoong knew the man had a high sense of security, a overflowing confidence, the belief that nothing could touch him in his position he’d so carefully constructed.
His hand moved of its own accord, punching in the pass code into the door lock, beeping it open and letting the door swing in. This was where Mr. Kim would fail, where his own protections would be used against him. And Jaejoong stepped into the hallway.
He was hardly into the house more than a few paces before he was met face to face with a pair of dark clad men. They didn’t say a word, eyes glinting in the dim light of the hallway as they looked him over. One of them went so far as to bow his head slightly in recognition, while the other merely took a single step back, enough to clear the way for Jaejoong to proceed towards the door at the end of the hall.
Hardly sparing them another glance, Jaejoong brushed passed them, feeling rather than hearing the way they moved to follow him like a pair of silent shadows. Pausing before the door, Jaejoong took a quick moment to calm his heart, closing his eyes and calling up the icy cold numbness that would be his mask, letting it creep across his face and turn his features to stone.
When he opened his eyes he would no longer be Kim Jaejoong with fiery anger and grief in his throbbing heart, no more Kim Jaejoong with the warm ache of love left behind him. No. He was empty inside and all that mattered was the man on the other side of the door, the one who would breathe his last within the hour.
The hand that landed on the door knob was as steady and strong as it had ever been, and he felt a small flicker of humorless smile tug at his mouth. This was still how he was most comfortable, slipping effortlessly back into his element - into cold detached nothing. And right now, he couldn’t stop to wish for the heat of gentle hands and even softer lips that were the only things that could call him back to himself and let him know that it was all okay in the same moment.
A quiet murmur of voices trickled into silence as he entered the room. It was dark and cramped, the air choked with heavy clouds of smoke trailing from the ends of cigarettes. The walls were lined with fewer men than he’d anticipated even with the two men who flanked him sliding over to fit in with their ranks.
All eyes were already locked on him, but he only could meet one of those gazes. The one of Mr. Kim sitting directly before him, lounging behind a narrow table cluttered with papers and cases filled no doubt with money.
Mr. Kim’s eyes surveyed him impassively, letting no emotions show, yet Jaejoong let himself believe he’d been around the man long enough to recognize surprise in the way one eyebrow arched up and greed in the way the edge of his lips curled.
“Jaejoong-ah. What a pleasant surprise.” The deep tone of the man’s voice was diluted with the dirty grate of a long time smoker, and silvery white smoke spilled from his mouth and nostrils as the words left him. Jaejoong allowed himself the momentary pleasure of imagining the man on fire from the inside, and knew Mr. Kim would take the small smile that he let cross his lips for an answer to the knowing glint in those greedy eyes. “I didn’t know you’d made it out alive.” The comment was offhand and airy light, but the look in Mr. Kim’s eyes only grew stronger, more insistent as Jaejoong bowed his head in acknowledgement.
“All thanks to you, Sir.” He let long seconds pass before he slowly lifted his head, letting his eyes be the last to raise from the floor to once again meet the man’s gaze.
The man smirked around the stick now protruding from between his lips. “Ha, ha, yes dear boy. You always did put up a good fight. Well, now. We should all be giving you a proper welcome.” Eyes flashed around almost imperceptibly at the men standing like silent statues around them, causing a bought of uneasy awkward shifting. “After all, now that there’s nothing left in your way I expect you to come stand by my right side.”
The ripple that went through the watching men at the words was stilled almost as soon as it began by another sharp sweep of those eyes. But Jaejoong didn’t move, didn’t even blink, as he let the meaning of the words sink in. Mr. Kim had just promoted him to the position of his heir.
As much as Jaejoong wanted to scream and explode at the way Junsu’s life was so easily and carelessly discarded, the rest of him clung to the fact that Mr. Kim was openly and loudly declaring his trust and belief in him. If it wasn’t the truth but a pretense to test him and his loyalties, then he was in deep trouble.
Maintaining his cold stony expression, Jaejoong waited for the man’s next move, for the revelation of his true intention, for some horrid command that would assuredly put Jaejoongg’s life on the line. There was nothing simple or easy to this, especially not when he’d announced it in front of the whole room. The hair on the back of his neck rose in tension as his heart sped up slightly.
Mr. Kim didn’t make him wait for long, leaning back in his chair and without dropping Jaejoong’s gaze lifted his left hand to the side in a silent demand. “The black box.”
A man instantly moved behind the desk, rummaging for something before producing a long rectangular box. It was placed in Mr. Kim’s waiting outstretched hand, and he lay it on the table with a cruel smirk falling into place. Jaejoong remained as impassive as he could, tried to stop his jaw from clenching and his heart from racing as the box was opened to reveal something he had thought he’d never see again, but something that he’d never once forgotten.
Mr. Kim’s eyes continued to rest on him, testing him, gauging his reaction as thick stained fingers reached out to caress down the shaft of the gun that glistened innocently from where it nestled within the box.
Jaejoong knew what this was even before the man opened his mouth. He didn’t need to see the expression on the man’s face, only needed to see the weapon now displayed before him to know that Mr. Kim was no longer testing him, but mocking him.
Jaejoong recognized it, and the look on Mr. Kim’s face showed he knew it too.
“Come here, Jaejoong-ah.” The now smugly satisfied twist of his lips was a clear indication of the way he was enjoying the moment greatly, and Jaejoong could do nothing but humor him. He walked stiffly forward until he was directly in front of the desk, the piece of wood the only thing now between them separating them. “I thought you would appreciate a little something to signify your new position.” A fake smile was directed up at him, all yellow teeth and skin pulling tightly across boney cheeks. Jaejoong forced himself to gaze steadily down at the weapon and avoid the sick enjoyment displayed on that face he hated so much.
“I’m honored, Sir.” He forced the words out, tasting like acid on hiss tongue. Because this wasn’t just any gun. This gun had started everything for Jaejoong, and Jaejoong knew what giving it to him now meant.
Upon Mr. Kim’s urging, he reached out to carefully lift the weapon from its place, letting it sit heavily in his hands. Yes, he knew what this meant, what holding this weapon should mean…but he couldn’t believe it was finally in his hands.
The weapon he’d watched with terror filled eyes, the weapon he’d come to look at with hatred and loathing, the one that had flashed before him and ended his father’s life in no more than a heart beat… the weapon that signified everything that was wrong in the world. Everything that he’d lost, and everything that was his destroyed future.
But not anymore… it was his. He ran one hand along its surface, fingers light on the intricate carvings inlaid in the silver material. It was beautiful…and nothing felt more right than holding it finally here in this moment. He was finally ready for it, and he could feel Mr. Kim’s eyes on him, watching him with a dark hooded expression, most likely completely aware of the thoughts flitting through his head, of the face passing before his eyes.
And Mr. Kim was leaning back in his chair, the smug look of someone who knows he’s won, someone who saw men as nothing more than things to use…but he was finally wrong about something. Jaejoong knew he would mistake the reverence he showed holding the weapon as some sort of sick fascination, a last connection of sorts to his father, and Jaejoong knew it was only fitting that it should be the same weapon to end his uncle’s life as well.
They met each other’s eyes, something electric and hard passing between them. A refusal to back down, a clashing challenge, and for a moment Jaejoong almost gave himself away. For a moment, Mr. Kim looked at him with sudden sharpness, and he reluctantly lowered his eyes in submission.
“At your orders, Sir.” He murmured, fingers curling around the handle of the gun so easily as if it had been waiting for his touch, ready for his intention.
Mr. Kim watched him for a few long moments, calculating and dark. Then he sucked a slow drag on his smoldering cigarette. “Lee. Step forward.”
The men in the room tensed automatically, a collective breath that was sucked in and held, stifling and suffocating as one man reluctantly, hesitatingly moved into the center of the room. Jaejoong could see him from the corner of his eye, the rigid set to his shoulders undeniable as one who had yet to learn how to hide his fear or school his emotions.
“Mr. Lee. I was told you failed to dispose of the evidence in your last deal.” Mr. Kim’s voice had taken on a slight purr, laced with threats and intent, and the meaning of the words sent a small chill down Jaejoong’s spine. He knew what his command was even before the next words were all the way out of Mr. Kim’s mouth.
Turning swiftly, he lifted his arm, easily pointing the gun directly at the stunned man’s heart, pinning him with ice hard eyes that didn’t back down even as they met the wide now terrified pleading eyes before him. Mr. Kim hardly had to tell him what to do, it was merely a press on the trigger and a ripping bang in his ears that left them ringing as the body collapsed to the floor.
Swiveling in his spot, Jaejoong turned to see Mr. Kim leaning back in his chair, eyes lit sickly with the blatant display of violence, and mouth once more curled in satisfaction. And he was in that moment oh so perfectly unprotected. It was now or never.
Before Mr. Kim could even commend him on orders well fulfilled, or promise him sweet nothings, Jaejoong squared his shoulders and once more raised the gun. He sucked in a single breath and then in quick succession, before anyone could react or even guess what he was doing, fired, gunning down the man with the disgusting pleased eyes standing to Kim’s right, then swinging to the left in a blur, the man only able to widen his eyes in shock before a bullet was pumped into his chest; finally whipping around to easily shoot down the other three men standing guard by the door.
None of them had been prepared, or ever suspected he would turn on them. And now he turned to face Mr. Kim who was watching him with sharp black eyes; if he was surprised he didn’t show it. His eyes were small and dark, calculating and looking over Jaejoong with what seemed to be even more interest than before.
A dark twisted heart that enjoyed cold blooded murder and ruthlessly killing one’s way for rank and profit. He seemed to approve of Jaejoong's method. “Although I resent that you just killed two of my best men, I am sure you’ll more than make up for it with your own skills.”
A cruel smile, a glint in those curving eyes, eyes so like junsu’s in their shape, but so different in their cold inhuman depths. Junsu’s eyes were open and sweet, so honest and beautiful. And all Jaejoong could think of, all he could remember was the way they were glued shut, bruised and swollen and so pallid white…as if the blood had stopped pumping through his veins already…and iron fingers were clenching around his heart so fiercely he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t need to breathe anymore to make it all right, didn’t need air to lift his arm, surprising even himself with the steadiness of his aim, and with the emotionless mask that formed his face despite the fire raging in his chest.
Mr. Kim didn’t move a muscle, didn’t react at all to having a gun now pointed point blank at his head. He met Jaejoong’s eyes full on, tilting his head ever so slightly back, eyes spitting cold steel.
“What else do you want?” His voice was deadly, lined with sharp edges, but Jaejoong just glared boldly back.
“I want Junsu back, you son of a bitch.”
He only gave the man mere seconds to process the words before his finger pressed firmly down on the trigger, sending a bullet ripping through the man’s temple. The shot echoed hollowly in the room, the only sound being the faint thud of Kim’s head as it flew back against the headrest of his chair with the force of the bullet. Then silence reigned.
Jaejoong didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, eyes staring fixedly at the slack face before him, the black eyes still open and staring at him, the spark of life in them fading as the face he hated slowly lost its color and red trickled from the hole piercing his skin. He could hear the blood dripping down the back of the chair and he knew the dead face before him would haunt him in more ways than one.
Sucking in a slow shuddering breath, Jaejoong let his eyes fall closed, trying to think over the numbness blanketing him with its foggy nothingness. He was dead. It was all over now. He was finally dead…he let his arm fall back to his side, hanging lifelessly beside him, gun somehow still clutched in his hand. His fingers seemed stiff and frozen as much as he wanted to uncurl them from the weapon he detested so much.
He knew he needed to move, to get out of there before any men came in a and found him amidst a room of dead bodies. They might look to him as the new boss, but it was more likely they would try to kill him first and ask questions later…but he couldn’t move.
All the hot fury and emotion had left him with that last huff of air…he felt so empty and drained. Because even though the man that caused all their troubles was now dead in front of him, it still didn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring Junsu back, and his fingers clenched even tighter around the gun in his hand.
When the phone in his pocket suddenly went off it startled his eyes open. The sound was loud and harsh in the room full of cooling dead bodies and he quickly fumbled his free hand into his pocket. Drawing it out, he couldn’t control the way his hand was shaking, tremors so violent he almost dropped his phone. A message indicating three missed calls blinked before the same number once again flashed across the screen, and all it took was a glance at that number and the gun slipped through his suddenly powerless fingers.
It was Yoochun.
He almost let the phone fall to the floor as well, but forced himself to accept the call, heart in his throat and sudden stubborn tears already stinging his eyes. He didn’t want to hear it but he had to know…he pressed the button and took a quick shaky breath that was more of a choked gasp before lifting the phone to his ear.
His eyes closed of their own accord and he couldn’t force a sound past his dry lips. There wasn’t a sound. No crying voices, no emotionless condolences of a life lost. Nothing. It could only mean one thing. His breath hitched painfully and the shivers that had plagued his hands now spread through his whole body.
Before he knew it he had sunken to his knees on the floor, mind blank and filled with white static. He gasped in another breath, ready to let it all out, to scream his despair into the ears that could no longer hear it when a faint voice spoke through the line. Just a single word, so hesitant and soft he almost didn’t hear it through the rush filling his ears.
Just one word was all it took to have him curling around himself pathetically, his own hoarse voice foreign to his own ears as a low cry left his mouth. Tears came unbidden from his eyes, and he was soon lost to broken sobs, uncontrollable as the disbelief flooding through his body.
Because the voice was one he never thought he’d hear again, and the way it called him he had never wanted to hear so badly. It was none other than Junsu’s voice, breathy and weak as he called again into the phone now clutched to Jaejoong’s ear, “Hyung?”
*****************
tbc ~~
A/N: ack, abrupt ending again, but my brain just turned off nothing to say .... :> see you soon with the ending (i think) ! <3 <3 TT!!
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