Give me a star (or stardust, if you will), For seulpeo
Title: give me a star (or stardust, if you will)
For: seulpeo
Pairing: Luhan/Kai
Rating: pg-13
Length: 10.6k
Summary, potential warnings: When Jongin was a child, he dreamt of dreams; when reality came crashing down on him, he dreamt of revenge; when he began solving crime, he dreamt of justice; now, when he’s with Lu Han, he dreams of love and a happy ending. [warnings for murder, suicide, character death, mentions of psychological disorder]
☆☆☆
By the time you read this, I'm not too sure whether I'll still be around. I haven't been good to you these few days, and I'm sorry, but the case is getting to me. It's strange how it all started, but this is how it should end. Promises should not be broken, and neither should the law. I should be punished, it's all my fault for getting you into this mess. You shouldn't be part of this. I'm sorry.
But no matter what happens, regardless of whether I'm dead or alive, please always remember this:
I love you
I love you
I love you
To the world and beyond.
0
xoxo
☆☆☆
There was a story that went like this:
Once, there was a young girl who wanted nothing more than to touch the stars. Quietly, she left her room and onto the treacherous path. She asked everyone along the way, whether they had touched them before. All of them, having seen it in the reflection of ponds, banks, grass, said yes, but she still could never touch them. Finally, upon the words of the fairies living in the forest, she set off on a long journey, to realise her dream.
It took her a horse and a fish to get to the Stairs Without Steps. Climbing it was difficult, but in the end, when she made it to the top, her eyes sparkled at the stars dancing around her, twinkling in the sky. The ground beneath her was pitch black, and she was afraid of falling, but she was still determined to touch at least one star, and so she tiptoed and reached out. And then, without notice, a shooting star zipped past, startling her and causing her to lose her balance. She tumbled and tumbled and tumbled, down back into Earth. But when she woke up, she smiled, because in her fist were the wisps of stardusts that she managed to touch and grab.
In the real world, a little boy had heard this story. And he, too, wanted to touch his very own star.
That, is where his story begins.
☆☆☆
He is awoken by an urgent call from his superior.
"It's a murder case- no, a serial murder case. I'll send you the address, head down to the crime scene immediately."
And this is how Kim Jongin is up and about at 7.34am on a Sunday. As he simultaneously brushes his teeth and puts on his work attire (a simple white tee coupled with a pair of jeans), a wave of nausea hits him and he's left with hands gripping the sides of the basin tightly. His knuckles turn a ghostly shade of white, but he waits until the banging in his head fades away before he lets out the shaky breath he doesn't know he's been holding.
It's been going on like that for a while now; maybe he should go and see a doctor to have his headache checked.
Still, Jongin has got a case to handle. It's probably a big case as well - he doesn't usually get called up unless it's something the basic police force can't deal with.
The day is going to be long, and it's unlikely he'll even return home before the sun rises again. He doesn't want to take the risk, and so before he leaves his apartment Jongin pops a panadol pill into his mouth. Hopefully the headache wouldn't attack again while he was still at work.
☆☆☆
It takes Jongin approximately twenty minutes to arrive at the crime scene. It's a little out of the boundaries of Seoul, cut off from most of the bustling population. Jongin turns left at a particular winding road and he's greeted with a rundown building. The usual killer hangout, Jongin thinks as he steps out of his car.
When he flashes his identity card the policemen guarding the area lets him in quickly, where Joonmyun is waiting for him.
Jongin switches to work mode quickly. "So how is it?" he asks, putting on a pair of surgical gloves.
Joonmyun leads him into the crime scene while explaining. “It’s the third case so far. There’s no distinct link between the three murders, but the murderer has been leaving some notes. It’s handwritten, which gives us a little lead, but this person has been clean with his murders and it’s hard to paint a clear picture as to why he or she would kill.”
“Send me the results of the analysis for the previous two cases,” Jongin requests and Joonmyun nods. Eventually, they arrive in a room with whitewashed walls. No furniture covers the concrete floors, and all there lies is a stiff body.
“The victim is a male, of twenty-five years old. Based on his rigor mortis, he was killed two days ago, via gunshot to his brain. Instant death, they say. No one found out until a couple of hours ago, because the factory isn’t open on weekends.”
Joonmyun pulls out a small folded piece of paper from his pocket. “This is what the murderer left behind. He’s been doing it for the other two as well.”
Jongin takes it from Joonmyun politely. He recognizes the parchment, because he has it in his own house as well. It’s shimmery and white - almost as if the murderer had wanted them to notice it. He opens the piece of paper, and all it reads is:
8
xoxo
“Is that all?” Jongin finds this peculiar, because he has never encountered such an open yet mysterious hint before. Murderers don’t usually leave traces as obvious as this, and it’s handwritten.
Joonmyun sighs gravely. “It’s the same for the other two, but the numbers were 10 and 9 respectively. Looks like this person is counting down.”
“So we can roughly estimate the number of times he or she is trying to strike,” he mumbles.
Jongin looks around the scene of crime for a few more hours, poking around to find evidence that might have gone unseen by the rest, but he comes up with nothing. The rest of his afternoon and evening is spent waiting around for the results of the autopsy and handwriting analysis to come out. Results for both come surprisingly quick.
“Well,” Yixing starts, “The only injury he has is a shot to the head, as you already know. He died from internal bleeding. That’s all.”
It’s not at all useful, but Jongin thanks Yixing anyway. When he goes up to Baekhyun, however, he gives him a bit more lead.
“The handwritings on all three papers are the same - consistent, deep, and neat. The murderer was definitely calm while writing this.” Baekhyun points out the deep indents in the words and numbers. It’s nothing like Jongin’s, who scribbles out everything because he can’t be bothered with penmanship when there are bigger things that matter out there.
When he gets home, Jongin feels like he’s fried his brain. All he can think about is that the murderer is definitely sly and daring, as if challenging the police force to catch him before the tenth murder.
I’ll catch you, I’m Kim Jongin, I won’t let mistakes and crimes happen.
That night, Jongin falls into a lonely slumber.
☆☆☆
Nights are when Jongin lives his life again. His dreams come alive and there's no way to hold them down. He often feels helpless - when you're in the dark, you struggle with the monster clinging onto your chest, refusing to let go. Jongin heaves and thrashes but he can still feel the remnants of fear from years ago wrapping around him. It's as clear as when it had happened; his sensory functions all triggered and it all feels so real - too real.
Sometimes the dreams are good. Sometimes, he dreams of the times before the Incident, where innocence was at its peak and Jongin could still imagine a happy future. He remembers the sun shining down, hitting the ground with the right amount of warmth that's not too hot, and not too cold. He remembers the feel of the soft grass tickling his neck and legs, the slow summer wind caressing against his hair. He remembers that on his tenth birthday, his parents gave him a brown beaded bracelet as a birthday present - "It will protect you and ward off all the danger in your way, always keep it on, alright Jongin-ah?"
But many times, Jongin falls. When he clutches onto the beaded bracelet, he's brought to the other reality that's far less innocent than what a ten year old should experience. Images replay vividly in his mind, engulfing and numbing him beyond senses. Jongin feels like he's bound by chains and muted by darkness, struggling against the invisible force but also against a monster that is very real - one that can hurt him both mentally and physically.
"So you do want to play as well, little boy?"
Help me.
Jongin wakes up, tear-stricken and body sticky with sweat. Unconsciously, his fingers go and twirl the beads on his left wrist; a sense of security. He doesn't stop until the first peek of daylight shines into his bedroom. That's when he's sure the monster has gone away. That's when he's sure he can attempt to be normal, and continue his routine until night once falls again. He's afraid, but life goes on.
☆☆☆
You see, happy stories don't entail happy endings.
They're just stories that haven't ended yet.
☆☆☆
Jongin was ten when he was sent to the orphanage. The first few months were difficult for the caretakers; Jongin barely opened his mouth, to speak or even eat. Every day, he had to be coaxed into ingesting some food into his stomach. Every day, he sat curled up in his bed, staring holes into the hollow walls for hours. No one could shake him out of it. Even when they pulled him out into the outdoors to play, he would persistently sit out on their activities, preferring to bask in the shade of the big oak tree.
The incident prior had shaken him badly, and all the adults in the orphanage knew it. Indeed, they pitied the young boy; they pitied how such a tragic incident had broken up his family, and also himself. It was as if he had been destroyed and thoroughly traumatized, his whole future ruined in a flash. But pity as they may, no matter how hard they tried to get Jongin back into the civilization - they just couldn't seem to do it. Jongin was just as hard and determined to shun off everyone in his current life.
It was months later, shortly after Jongin celebrated a very lonely 11th birthday, when another caretaker arrived into the orphanage Jongin was situated at. She was tall and pretty, hair always tied into a neat ponytail - a fresh graduate just helping out while waiting for her results. For days she noticed the withdrawn boy, yet what caught her attention the most was how no other caretaker tried to go to him and convince him to join in. It was most definitely strange.
"Hey, why isn't anyone getting that boy to take part in the orphanage's activities?" She asked one of the long-time volunteers. "Oh, that's Kim Jongin," the other replied, and then she told the graduate Jongin's story.
"That boy is really a sad case, he's deeply impacted by the happenings, so now he refuses to talk and do anything at all."
She knew it wasn't the way to live life - no, life had to go on even if the goings got tough. Slowly, she inched over to the boy, cautiously sitting down next to him. Jongin barely flinched at all. It was as if he didn't notice her presence.
"You're Jongin right?" A few seconds passed before he nodded. He didn't seemed annoyed at her, so she continued on. "I heard about your story, um..." How would she put it across to him?
"If you're going to tell me to put it away, then sorry, your advice is useless." The graduate looked up in surprise. Jongin's voice came out extremely firm and deep. It was something she hadn't expected from a child who was seemingly always in high emotional distress.
"All I think about, when I close my eyes, is that man's face. All I dream about, is how I can do the same thing to him."
It's the slight shiver that's sent up her spine that tells her this is all wrong. "All I really want is revenge," he said quietly, as if afraid that the wind would carry his words away for everyone else to hear.
They sat in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few minutes. She fidgeted for most of the time. She knew his thinking isn't right. Revenge isn't the solution to anything.
Before she realised, she blurted out, "But Jongin, for the people you love, you need to be strong. Thinking about revenge is for weaklings." From the corner of her eyes, she saw Jongin's own widen. She's got his attention now.
"Besides, your parents wouldn't want you to be like this. If you really want to, make catching all criminals your dreams. Don't dwell on revenge, it just isn't worth it. Rather than revenge, I hope you think of it as justice." She didn't know where the sudden confidence in her voice came from - heck, what did her words even mean! But she wasn't going to waver right now, she knew she was going somewhere.
This time, she turned to face Jongin directly. His expressions weren't giving away anything, but it was obvious that he was in deep thought.
Just like that, hours passed. When the skies turned a musky shade of grey and Jongin still hadn't uttered a single word, the graduate stood up, extending a hand out towards Jongin. "We have to go back inside, dinner's going to be served soon."
To her surprise, Jongin took it. Their walk back was equally as quiet; only accompanied by the soft rustles of the fallen leaves under their feet.
When they arrived in front of the dining hall, where everyone else was already seated, Jongin tiptoed up to her ears and whispered inaudibly: "Thank you." He didn't wait for any reply before running straight for his seat.
To anyone, she was just an university graduate trying to coax a small kid into opening up.
To Jongin, she was the messenger and push that he needed to spiral him into the life he was fated to lead.
☆☆☆
"Okay class! You'll have to stand up and tell the rest of your classmates what your ambition is! I'll just pick a random student... Jongin?"
"I want to be a police officer in future, so that I can catch all the criminals and bring the victims to justice."
☆☆☆
Jongin lifts his head up from his work desk at the sound of his phone ringing, brain heavy and groggy. The laptop in front of him jerks awake under his sudden movement as well, momentarily blinding him in a hue of bright white light and in the form of an empty word document.
And the light doesn't stop shining-
"Hello," he drawls, memories of last night drawing to a blank.
"Another case." Joonmyun's voice is curt - a rarity. It's enough to bring Jongin back to consciousness. Including this case, the serial murders would add up to six. The previous two cases Jongin had worked on gave him no lead at all. He still derived no answer.
"It's at the back alley of Apgudeong. Same death method. I hope you know this is getting serious, the public is starting to complain about the government not doing enough to protect the citizens. Our department, especially, is getting a lot of backlash for this."
Jongin nods, and as if Joonmyun could see, he continues on.
"Considering the severity of the situation, I've hired a good friend of mine to help out. He's a private detective, but he's good, you'll see." Jongin purses his lips and frowns. He doesn't like working with others. It just means half the efficiency and twice and trouble.
"Jongin." The resigned sigh is evident in his voice. "Just, just work well with him on this case, okay? We don't want more people dying."
Seconds trickle pass. Jongin recalls Joonmyun as more than his superior at work, but also a reliable friend he could always count on. Back when he was still a quiet rookie, dusting the files of old cases and brewing coffee for his seniors, Joonmyun had reached out to him and allowed him to help him out with his line of work - ultimately helping him to rise up the ranks in a short period of a few years. It was him who had seen Jongin's potential, and it was also him who had become his confidante; the many hushed words Jongin had once exclaimed to him while drunk on soju, are the ones that Joonmyun has never revealed and probably never intend to.
Besides that, Joonmyun always had good judgment. "Okay," Jongin says, finally conceding.
Joonmyun sounds considerably pleased as he gives Jongin a couple more instructions.
"And if you ask me," Joonmyun ends off cautiously, "I think the two of you will work well together; you're both on the same side of law and humanity anyway."
☆☆☆
At the break of dawn, the air is still stale. A dim speck of light peeks through behind the unlit buildings, shining down on the new day ahead. There’s more unknowns for the world to clamour about, for the world to be horrified of. A new day signifies the locked up insecurities fading away, gathering warmth from the sun to bring about a blanket of hope to cover a world of lost souls.
No one says it, but Jongin, Jongin knows he’s one of them. He doesn’t forget the many sleepless nights that he’s woken up from in cold sweat, memories of his past haunting him in forms of monsters in his dream. When he wakes up, he wakes up in gratifying silence - one that he doesn’t appreciate. There’s nothing more terrifying than hearing your own panting and cries, amplified by the four walls that seemingly cave in to strangle him, to take away all the breath he has.
No. Jongin never likes the night. At least, he hasn’t since-
“The night sky is filled with stars. They look out for you. So, Jongin, if you ever get lost at night, listen to the twinkling and watch out for an arrow in the sky. Because even amidst the darkness, there will be light to guide you home.”
Nights bring him a silence that is not at all comforting.
There’s no twinkling now.
☆☆☆
Jongin taps impatiently on his steering wheel as he waits for the traffic light to turn green. He’s in a state of unrest, unable to keep still. He fiddles with his phone, checking his messages and deleting his junk mails. When he looks up the light is still red.
He sighs. The world moves too slowly for his liking. Slowly, he leans his head against the window and looks out. The sun is barely out, and there’s not much life on the streets of Seoul. Shops aren’t due to be opened yet; the only people who are milling around are those on morning runs.
As he scours around, his eyes lock upon the side mirror of his car and he freezes.
Dark, kohl-lined eyes take in the form of fire combusting, burning brightly - burning dangerously. There’s a sticky trickle of red on the side of his pink-purged lips, which lift up ever so slightly to form a smirk. His skin is perfectly golden tanned; there are no blemishes to destroy the flawless demon right in front of him.
But what scares him most, is that he’s looking at himself.
Jongin blinks in confusion and trepidation, and the image in front of him flicks back to his current self - dark circles, dishevelled hair, bad skin. He blinks for a couple more times and grips the steering wheel even harder, but nothing in the mirror changes again. It’s not until the he hears the incessant sounds of horns behind him when he realizes that the traffic light has already turned green. Putting it all behind him, he drives forward, mind set on his destination. There’s a case to solve, he can’t lose concentration.
☆☆☆
The area is cordoned off by the time Jongin arrives, keeping the small but growing crowd of passerby away. He flashes his identification card and is brought straight into the crime scene, where the body lies.
He bends down to inspect, but is cut off by a slightly soft voice: “A single bullet right through the head - a clean kill, just like the others before him. It’s hard to find a killer who leaves no trace, and this person is no doubt smart, I’d have to admit.”
Jongin turns his body and is greeted by an unfamiliar face of doe eyes and full lips. It takes him a moment to process that this person standing in front of him is a male.
As quickly as he comes, the guy moves his head away from the crooks of Jongin’s neck. “I believe Joonmyun hasn’t introduced me to you yet.”
“Hello,” the man says, extending his hand out towards him, “I’m Lu Han. Nice to meet you, please take care of me.”
Jongin gives a quick look over: sharp nose, blemish-free skin, lean and tall. Lu Han has the face and physique of an idol, not a private detective recommended by a senior of his post. But he knows not to judge a book by its cover, and so he grasps the hand firmly and shakes. "I'm Jongin, the one in charge of this case."
"I know." The slight lilt in his voice and the playful shove he gives makes Jongin think that Lu Han's just messing with him. "Say, do you want to grab some coffee before heading to your place? I know this really good cafe nearby."
"What." If Jongin was drinking, this would be the moment where he coughs violently and attempt to keep his lungs in his stomach. "What do you mean by 'heading to my place'? We're supposed to be working."
"We are! All the documents and stuff are at your house right? We can't work empty- handed, you know." Lu Han has the audacity to cluck his tongue at Jongin. Jongin just doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Is this really the partner Joonmyun had picked out to work with him?
"We're taking your car, I took a taxi here."
That's it. Kim Jongin is done with life.
☆☆☆
“There’s a similarity in all cases. As we all know, the murders are all well-plotted and the killing catalyst is a shot through the head. We’ve ran a background check on all of the victims; none of them are related to each other in any way. Different ages, job scopes, schools - there’s very little chance of them knowing each other. We can’t predict who’s going to be targeted next. All we know is that there’s going to be 3 more victims- Lu Han?”
The said person looks up from the rubix cube in his hand. “What?” he questions, as if he hadn’t not been listening to whatever Jongin had just said.
“Did you even hear what I just told you?” Jongin rubs his knuckles into his temples. The headache has been getting increasingly worse and having an uncooperative work partner does not help at all.
“You just said what I already know,” Lu Han replies, and with a swipe he completes his cube. “Just like solving this rubix cube, there’s a protocol for everything. Take it easy, Jongin-ah.”
Jongin is mildly irritated. Maybe Joonmyun is wrong. Maybe he doesn’t need a partner to help. Maybe-
“There actually is a similarity,” Lu Han comments offhandedly. Jongin’s ears perk up immediately. “If you check their background again, you’d realize they all own guns.” He points at the laptop screen listing their profiles. “It’s all registered. Well, not all of them. But most of them do.”
“So you’re saying this case has to do with guns?”
Lu Han nods. “Most probably. I mean, the killer himself uses a gun to shoot, what’s there to rule out?”
Jongin ponders for a moment before he grabs the nearest pen and paper to jot it all down. When he’s done, Lu Han snatches the paper away from him and reads.
“Hey!”
“Mehrong.”
☆☆☆
“We can’t work like this,” Lu Han complains a few days later as he flails all over the couch. Jongin barely flinches.
“Why is your house so dull? There’s no colours at all, what is this, you’re such an old man and I’m older than you!”
"This is my house," he replies calmly, "does it even matter to you?" Lu Han scoffs and flails even more in response. "Well yeah! I need to have a conducive working environment in order to think! All I can think about now is how I want to smash paintballs onto your walls. This grey couch seems like it's going to swallow my brain up. And is that fireplace I see. You should paint your walls blue, they say it's good for memory."
Jongin frowns as Lu Han continues to rattle on. It's his own house, why should Lu Han care so much anyway?
He doesn't register what's going on until he's pushed off the couch by Lu Han, and also pushed out the door. "W-what?! Lu Han!"
For someone smaller in frame, Lu Han surprisingly has a lot of strength. "Come on, we're going to go home shopping!"
Once again, Jongin groans. He didn't sign up for this.
☆☆☆
Lu Han ends up bringing the both of them into a small antique shop in an isolated corner of the street right up. Jongin enters it warily, eyeing every ornament in sight as if they were tiny explosives. Lu Han, on the other hand, greets the shop owner cheerily with a wave, before dragging the unwilling latter over to a section.
"Hey, buy this," Lu Han says excitedly as he points at one of the lava lamps on display. Jongin watches the wax inside rise and fall with a judging eye. "And why would I even buy this?" he questions, eyebrow raised.
Lu Han waves him off. "Not only is it for decorative purposes, you can also watch it when you're feeling stressed up! Supposedly you'll feel calmer. And for someone like you," Lu Han gives him a complete look over - Jongin feels violated, "I think it's necessary. Also, it lightens up your whole apartment!"
Jongin blinks at his work partner. Did he drag him all the way here just to get a lava lamp?
"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll pay for this. But the next time, I won't!"
When they get back to Jongin's apartment twenty minutes later, Lu Han fusses over the lack of electronic plugs. He manages to find one at the back of Jongin's bed, and immediately plops it on the bedside table and switches it on. Orange spots dance around in the lighted liquid, and for a moment, Jongin feels lighter, the stress prior washing out. Lu Han grins. "I told you it's good," he says proudly as he slaps Jongin on the back.
Hours later, when Jongin's propped up on his bed reading his novel, he eyes the lava lamp on his right. Slowly, he reaches out to turn it on, once again getting fascinated by the calming shades of colours rising up and down.
He smiles to himself. Maybe Joonmyun was right; Lu Han was a good partner after all.
☆☆☆
It’s dark and quiet.
Jongin is scared he can’t find his way again.
☆☆☆
It's rare that Jongin sleeps over nine in the morning, so when he feels the strong glares of the sun's rays already piercing at his sleep-crusted eyes, he knows it can't be good.
Out of reflex, he reaches out to his phone to check the time - his display time states 11:05am in bright, glaring characters, as if teasing him for his demise. Underneath, there's also 30 missed calls and more than 10 unread messages waiting for him to respond to. Jongin lets out a frustrated groan, kneading his temples as he feels an invisible beat forcibly hitting on the inside of his head. He's fucked, he knows it.
He randomly swipes at one of the more recent missed calls, and it dials him through. It merely takes a few seconds before a shrill voice pierces his ears.
"JONGIN ARE YOU ALIVE."
"Yes I am," Jongin replies, feeling slightly irritated by Lu Han already. He should have dialed for Joonmyun instead, at least his voice was soothing for the ears. "I'm sorry, I might have overslept, I didn't hear my alarm."
The incredulous scoff is carried over the phone speaker well. "Jongin-ah, you overslept for one whole day! There was a case yesterday and this morning as well! We couldn't contact you at all, I knocked on your door but you never opened it."
Jongin lets this piece of news reel in. If he had kept them waiting for 24 hours, a few more seconds wouldn't hurt.
"So another two has died," he asks to confirm himself more than anything. Lu Han spills the details of the deaths and locations and tells him to "hurry your ass up, Joonmyun doesn't look very happy". Jongin is out of the house in five minutes.
Lu Han is the first one to approach Jongin when he arrives. "Your collar is up," he says, and he helps him to flatten the said collar. Joonmyun goes up to him next.
"Joonmyun-hyung, I'm sorry." Joonmyun's face softens when he hears the sincere apology. Jongin has never slipped up like this before. It's his first time, and he's sure that Joonmyun will relent, because he's Kim Jongin, hardworking police investigator that has never failed in catching a criminal before.
Joonmyun gives a hard sigh. "I'll cover up for you for... whatever happened yesterday. But don't let that happen again. Anyway, Lu Han has already had this place searched, I'm sure he can give you the insights." He gestures for Lu Han to continue on. Afterwards, he turns around to leave them to their own devices. Jongin mentally remembers to treat Joonmyun to lunch as a thank you.
"So... Loss of time, yeah?" Jongin looks up to focus on Lu Han. Absentmindedly, he nods and scratches his head. He sees Lu Han furrowing his brows before reaching out to grab the hand on his head.
"What's this?" The knuckles on Jongin's right hand are bloodied and pretty bruised up. The strange thing is, Jongin doesn't remember where he's gotten them from.
"It wasn't there when I went to sleep..." he mutters. "Maybe I knocked my hand against the wall or something."
"Maybe." Lu Han looks at his knuckles unconvincingly, but Jongin wouldn't blame him. He himself didn't think that happened anyway.
Lu Han lets go of his hand in the end, allowing it to swing lifelessly by Jongin's side. He stares at the bloodied hand harder, as if that would produce answers to the question.
"Well, on to the cases, shall we?" Lu Han gives him a tight smile and Jongin can't help but nod along.
☆☆☆
It takes awhile for Jongin to get used to Lu Han’s loud presence. Lu Han is all things that he doesn’t find in Joonmyun - he’s always cheerful and doesn’t let a bad case spoil his mood. He pulls Jongin out for coffee breaks and lets everything around him distract him. Jongin feels like the older one when he’s with Lu Han, but even so, he likes the feeling of secret joy bubbling in his stomach when Lu Han’s eyes twinkle; pure and untainted by the bad deeds he’s seen so much in his line of work.
“Hey,” Jongin suddenly says aloud while the both of them click away at their laptops, side by side.
Lu Han doesn’t look up, a frown of concentration lined on his forehead. “Mmm?”
“Do you think there’s a distinct line between evil and good?” It’s a question that everyone asks but never gets answered straight. Jongin doesn’t even know why he asks, when he already knows that the model answer for this is that there is none.
Lu Han doesn’t even stop to think. “Of course not, as my father would say, lines between anything in real life are all blurred. I like to see the positive side of things, that’s all. Where there’s evil, there’s good. I see the good in the evil. There’s innocence even if there’s malice. I mean, really, why not?”
He lifts his head up to smile. Eyes wrinkled, lips curved. Jongin loses his breath, but Lu Han doesn’t seem to notice.
And the secret joy bubbling in his stomach begins again.
Jongin thinks he’s fallen into a deep, deep hole that he’s not supposed to have seen.
☆☆☆
The streets of Seoul at eight in the night are bustling with people - Jongin and Lu Han being one of them. Just half an hour ago, Lu Han had woken Jongin up from his unexpected slumber and told him, "Hey, it's dinner, let's eat."
Lu Han brings him to a typical ddeokbokki stand. He orders a couple of dishes from the lady and tells her to bring a few bottles of soju. "Let's take a break tonight. Just lighten up," he says, cheeky grin on his face.
The inside of the stand is boiling, Jongin feels. There's too many people chattering and laughing. The sound of clinked glasses strains his ears, and it's just all too constrained for someone like Jongin, who yearns to be in a flexible environment.
Lu Han punches him on the shoulders. "I said, loosen up." Jongin sticks out his tongue in playful banter, and Lu Han claps his hands and laughs.
When the food is served, Jongin is already ravished. "It's not bad," he comments, and Lu Han gives a thumbs up. "I don't bring you to stalls that aren't delicious, you know."
There's a certain type of calmness that settles in the air. Lu Han and Jongin had never been the best of work partners, but they still fit together. They're both so different in their own ways, yet after a few weeks of spending time together, Jongin feels that there'll never be a partner so close to perfection like Lu Han. Lu Han brings colours into his life like no one else had; he's just like the lava lamp he had bought for Jongin - bright and shining and calming.
Lu Han waves a hand in front of him. "What are you dreaming about?" Jongin's brought back to his senses, and he brushes it off by saying, "Nothing. I was just thinking about how different we are in terms of our work. Before I met you, Joonmyun-hyung told me that you and I were similar, that we were on the same side of law and humanity. It's funny how similar yet different we are."
Lu Han chews thoughtfully on his ddeokbokki. "Well that's quite true." And that's where their conversation stops.
The both of them eat in silence while the surrounding tables converse in high volumes, spilling vulgarities and life stories and everything else that's possible with a little help of soju. It's only after they're done when Lu Han speaks again.
“The difference between us,” he calmly says, “is that you would prosecute all criminals and I would not.”
“What if it’s someone you love?”
For the first time, Jongin sees dark clouds in the windows of Lu Han’s eyes.
“If it’s someone I love, I would do all I can to protect the person. Even if it means prosecuting myself.”
☆☆☆
It's Lu Han who tells him to take a walk around the park after their dinner. Good for digestion, he says.
"But it's dark," Jongin replies, but he relents anyway.
The park is eerily silent at that time of night, and the only source of lights coming from the street lamp. Jongin feels strangely at ease, to be away from the hustle and bustle. He paces his footsteps to be in synced with Lu Han's, allowing the secret joy in his stomach to bubble again. The queasiness from the mixture of ddeokboki and soju is starting to settle already.
“How about we do this,” Lu Han suggests quietly. Jongin turns his head to face him. “I'll tell you a secret, and you'll tell me one."
“What’s the reason behind this?” It's weird for Lu Han to make a request like that.
"Nothing, really. I just thought that I could let out some steam. I don't really like keeping things within me."
"Um, okay." Lu Han gives him a grateful smile. "I'll start then," he says.
The stars are shining. Lu Han’s eyes, crystal clear like they always are, reflect the moon. “My parents didn’t approve of me coming to Korea to work. They told me to stay in Beijing and take over their multinational company. But I didn’t, because I didn’t like to be restrained. I liked the feeling of freedom and nothing was going to hold. That’s why I ended up as a private detective and not working alongside your unit.”
Lu Han breathes in heavily before continuing. “The night I packed my bags and left, they told me to never come back. They told me I wasn’t being a good son, and if I were to be bad, they’d rather not have me as a son. I left anyway. But do I think I’m a bad son? Not really. They could be bad parents. There’s so many sides to everything, it’s impossible to determine.”
Jongin bites his lip. The fact that Lu Han had just let go of his parents like that - it was so hard to imagine.
"Don't you miss your parents?" Lu Han smiles through wistful eyes. "Of course, why wouldn't I? But if I didn't leave, I wouldn't have met you."
Jongin feels his cheeks creep up to crimson red; Lu Han only laughs. "Now that I've shared this secret, it's your turn."
He thinks long and hard. This wasn't a secret he shared with everyone, but to him, Lu Han wasn't part of the everyone.
“My parents… My parents died in front of my eyes, when I was ten. They were cleanly shot in the head, both of them. The guy was crazy, he had wild eyes and was going to shoot me too, but then the police came. That’s how I became an orphan. I had no one to depend on but me. That’s why I’m so on the side of justice - I don’t want anyone else losing hope in their life because of a stupid mistake.”
Warm tears fall into his clenched hands. Both of them stop in their tracks, no longer strolling through the park. Jongin feels weak and stupid for crying in public - he is a manly man, goddammit - but he also feels lighter, like a burden was off his shoulders.
“But you still have me,” Lu Han says. He takes Jongin’s trembling hands into his own. “I’ll be the beacon of light in your life. From now on, I’ll be your backbone, your hope, your everything. You can be mine. We can have each other.”
☆☆☆
When their lips touch, Jongin feels like he's on top of the world.
Nothing can bring him down.
☆☆☆
It's hours later when Lu Han speaks, body bare and snuggled closely to Jongin to grab a bit of the body heat. "We'll catch the mastermind behind this together, okay? To save the city we love."
Jongin can only smile as he replies, "You and I against the world? I like the sound of that."
☆☆☆
When Jongin was a child, he dreamt of dreams.
When reality came crashing down on him, he dreamt of revenge.
When he began solving crime, he dreamt of justice.
Now, when he’s with Lu Han, he dreams of love and a happy ending.
☆☆☆
((But happy endings don’t happen if you don’t work to make it come true.))
☆☆☆
After so many cases, Jongin isn't surprised anymore that he gets called up for in the early morning, before the birds even start chirping. He's quick on his feet and in his actions, as he hurriedly changes out of his sleepwear and into more suitable clothes. Before he leaves he pauses at the door for a split second and runs back into the kitchen to grab a slice of bread to nibble on.
The first thing Jongin actually notices when he arrives at the scene of crime is not the body - he doesn't even need to look to know the cause of death, it's only out of basic police enforcement that he searches the place thoroughly anyway - but the fact that Lu Han is wearing a huge pair of sunglasses. Indoors.
He walks briskly over to his boyfriend. "What happened to your eyes? Did you get into a fight or something?" Jongin's more amused than anything, really.
"Um..." Lu Han only fidgets around, shifting the balls of his soles from one foot to the other, as if contemplating on what to reply. Jongin only manages to frown deeper when Lu Han awkwardly laughs and gives him a half-hearted shove on the shoulder. "This is a new fashion statement. Didn't you read Huang Zitao's latest editorial? Sunglasses are in the season."
"You don't need fashion statements when you're working on a serial murder case," Jongin murmurs in response, getting increasingly confused and worried when Lu Han once again fails to give an adequate reply.
"The case! Jongin-ah, focus on the case!" He attempts to force Jongin to turn around and begin scouring the crime scene, but Jongin's larger in size and also stronger, so the latter barely budges.
"Jesus Lu Han, what's wrong with you? It's not like someone punched- punched... you..."
Jongin has to physically hold back a gasp. The patch of blue-black on Lu Han's right eye is swollen and throbbing. "What happened to your eye," he demands. The past few days, Jongin's been caught up with endless amount of paper work and Lu Han had mysteriously disappeared, sending him texts saying I'm fine Jongin, go to sleep and whatnot every once in awhile. They haven't been spending a lot of time together despite dating and working on the same case.
"I hit myself with a water pipe yesterday while chasing down a criminal," Lu Han answers quietly - almost meekly. Jongin only raises an eyebrow. "But I thought you're solely dedicated to this case only."
To his surprise, Lu Han pouts and smacks him on the head. "Don't be so self-conceited and think I'm only here for this case, I don't work for the government, I don't get salary unless I work. I need to make money so I can buy more decorations for your house and also more nourishing food for you! Canned food isn't healthy!"
"Okay..." Jongin isn't entirely convinced but his conversation with Lu Han is taking up too much time. He can see Joonmyun not-so patiently waiting for him at the side. This issue can wait until they're alone together.
Lu Han smiles lightly. "Let's go. We've got a case to solve."
☆☆☆
Twenty hours later, and they're back at Jongin's apartment, resting together on the couch, both bathed and feeling extremely lethargic. They're nowhere near close to ending this case and this is problematic. Even Joonmyun is starting to pester, but even with their two brains combined, they haven't found much of a lead yet.
Tonight is the night Jongin decides to heck it and take a well-deserved break for once. He's been slogging his guts out for years, and the only way he knows how to break through a hard case, is to rest. Jongin closes his eyes and slowly inches his head over to Lu Han's shoulders, the ache in his neck muscles loosening and he feels like he's in heaven. Lu Han hums a little tune that suspiciously sounds like the DBSK's opening for One Piece.
I'll go any number of times until we get to that sky, now is the time, let's cross over, I believe toward one tomorrow, yeah yeah…
He doesn't realise that he's fallen asleep until he feels Lu Han's gentle proddings. "Hey, go back to your room." Lu Han's voice is sweet like honey; it's warm and the right type of sticky and Jongin never wants to stop listening to it. "Will you stay tonight?" he mumbles blearily, still very much in the world of sleep.
He looks at Lu Han through one eye, and he sees the hesitation. But he doesn't expect what's coming.
"Actually, I was thinking of staying with you. Like, permanently."
This time, Jongin lifts his head up to look at Lu Han straight in the eye. Lu Han looks back, but there's this strange tingle Jongin gets from him. Maybe it's the haziness, the cloud that Lu Han has brought that doesn't allow Jongin entry in. Lu Han's eyes are usually clear and telling; that's what Jongin had first noticed and also what he had first fallen in love with. The twinkle isn't always there but if anything, Jongin knows he loves Lu Han and he knows that Lu Han loves him too. Even as they both keep their silent, Jongin knows that it's love and concern and a mix of everything else that's included in the windows of Lu Han's entity.
That's when Jongin breaks into a tired grin. He heaves himself off the couch and pulls Lu Han by the wrist to do the same. The brown beads clash against tanned skin and fragile wrist. A new chapter has begun.
"I'd never want to leave you anyway," Jongin
says. Lu Han squeezes his fingers as a response, but Jongin can't help but feel that the slight tightness of Lu Han's grip seem to hold something deeper.
Almost as an afterthought, Lu Han blurts out softly, "I love you." Almost like an afterthought, the grip loosens.
Almost as an afterthought, Jongin replies, "Me too."
☆☆☆
Lu Han feels nice. Jongin likes it when Lu Han scoops him and pulls him closer, mumbling incoherent words into the crook of his neck. Most of the time, Jongin is the one who falls into dreamland first. Lu Han pats him on the back in a way that's oddly comforting. It feels like the old times, when his mother used to do that too. Sometimes, Lu Han falls asleep first. When this happens, Jongin likes to stare at the contours of his face, silently mapping them out with his index finger. Lu Han looks good under the reflection of the moonlight, eyelashes long and curled, lips slightly opened. That is what you would call perfection.
They get into a routine fairly quickly. Lu Han makes dinner while Jongin does the dishes. They end up sharing clothes between themselves because it's so much more convenient than splitting Jongin's almost bursting wardrobe ("Jongin, even your clothes are dull, who wears polo shirts anymore, I'm throwing them out."). On Wednesdays, they go grocery shopping. Some Saturdays, they visit the antique shops and buy more ornaments for their home.
It's scary how they fit in as one so fast, but Jongin doesn't mind, because it's Lu Han. Lu Han makes his world go round, Lu Han gives him a new purpose to live. Lu Han Lu Han Lu Han. If his life were a tweetcloud right now, the biggest word in the cloud would probably be Lu Han.
Now, when Jongin sleeps, he sleeps without a dream. Lu Han's arms around his waist are a safe haven that he basks on and crawls into for protection. They're his very own dream catcher and he's not about to let it go.
His sleeps are as dark as the nights now, but he doesn't mind at all. Jongin is happy with Lu Han and that's probably the best thing that's ever happened to him since his parents died.
Lu Han absentmindedly twirls the beads on his bracelet; Jongin sleeps guarded by an invisible force.
Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.
☆☆☆
A quiet month passes. The serial killer doesn't strike again, and so Jongin and Lu Han's daily routine include scurrying to and fro the labs and offices. Nothing is proven positive, and so Jongin is very rattled and unnerved.
"He or she is supposed to strike one more time! The timings in between each killings were pretty closely spaced, at most two weeks. This makes no sense." Jongin frowns into his coffee, mirroring the bitterness of it. Lu Han rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Maybe he decided not to continue on with it. Maybe he realised the importance of lives. Or maybe, maybe he just had someone he loved and didn't want to let go."
"It's no time to be sentimental Lu Han, this is serious," Jongin snaps in response, but immediately regrets but he sees Lu Han slightly flinching. He bunches up a ball of messy hair in his palm. "I'm sorry, I'm just really frustrated right now. It's been so long and we still haven't gotten anything on this person, I just don't know what to do."
Lu Han only gives him an understanding nod.
They continue on with this mundane cycle, never being able to get out of this. It's two weeks after, when deadlines are pressing, that Jongin falls ill.
"Jesus Jongin, you have a high fever," Lu Han chides, pushing him into their bed and under the thick covers. Jongin barely has the energy to protest anyway.He's shivering violently and his head is about to burst. The headache that has been away for a while is finally back.
"Hang on, I'll get you some medicine." Lu Han runs out of their room, but pops his head in just a minute later. "It seems like we've run out of panadol, hang on, Jongin-ah, I'll just run down to the pharmacy to buy some more.” Jongin hears the door slam shut before he slowly starts to drift to sleep.
And he never hears Lu Han coming back with the medicine.
☆☆☆
For the first time since Lu Han has stayed over at his house, Jongin dreams.
He dreams that he’s in a dark alley, arms crossed, body propped up against the wall. In his dream, he sees a man - half a head shorter than him, dressed in black leather pants, coupled with a leopard-printed shirt.
Without hesitation, Jongin raises his gun, aiming for his head and the right nerve.
And he shoots.
☆☆☆
It’s a slow process, when Jongin eventually wakes up. He realises, with a start, that he’s still in bed, and not some dingy old alley like in his dream. It’s also already morning - Lu Han isn’t in bed with him.
Turning his attention to the phone on his bedside table, he finds a glass of water and two panadol pills instead. Beside them, there’s a note that reads:
Jongin,
Another case happened today, I’ve gone down to take a look at it. Stay safe and healthy.
Jongin ends up eating the two pills and falls asleep once again. Hours later, he wakes up to the smell of porridge wafting from the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Lu Han pulls a chair out for Jongin and gestures him to sit. “I hope you like porridge, it’s the only thing I know how to cook other than ramen.”
“It’s fine,” he insists, slurping at the porridge with satisfaction plastered all over his face to show it. When he sees Lu Han stifling a laugh, he smiles as well, ignoring his burning head.
“In any case, give me details on the victim today.” Lu Han pauses for a split second before he explains. “The victim was a twenty-seven year old male, about 170cm. I don’t really have to say this, but yeah, same death method. He died because he was shot in the head.”
“Mmm. What was he wearing?”
“Wearing? Ehh, I think leather pants. And there was a leopard on his shirt.”
The porridge in Jongin’s mouth immediately turns into rock, and he finds himself choking painfully on it. Before he realises, Lu Han is up and pushing a glass of water into his hand, urging him to drink it. The water sloshes down his throat, and Jongin is able to breathe again.
Lu Han’s hands rub circles on his back. Jongin is still panting heavily, and he’s sweating profusely as well. There’s no way that could happen. It was impossible.
“What is it? Jongin, calm down.” Lu Han tried to pacify him but Jongin just grabbed his hands, eyes wide in shock. “I... I had a dream on this. Lu Han, I saw the exact same guy in my dream last night! I was hiding in an alley, and I held up my gun, and... I shot him.”
He sees the confusion on Lu Han’s face, and then the realisation slowly settling in. Lu Han squeezes his fingers as comfort, but he grips his delicate bones so hard that Jongin cringes. It’s unsettling, but it holds a certain level of reassurance as well. Lu Han’s touches, no matter how strong or gentle they are, all make Jongin feel better. It’s like he gingerly picks up the burdens and throws it aside, even if it’s for a moment only.
“Don’t be so paranoid, Jongin. It’s just a dream. You woke up and you were in bed right? Stop thinking so much about it.”
But Jongin just can’t. It’s not everyday that he gets a dream like that. In his dreams, he’s never the one holding the gun. In his dreams, he’s the one who sees another person wielding it. It’s strange enough at that, but he also has to go kill someone identical to the real victim too.
Goosebumps appear on his back. This is all so strange.
Jongin only shuts up because Lu Han looks like he’s about to cry. They continue to eat their porridge in unwritten silence, but Jongin’s mind is whirling with questions he cannot answer.
He’s curious, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat.
☆☆☆
People wish upon a shooting star because others tell them that wishes will come true.
But stars only fall because they’re laden with too many wishes, and it’s too heavy for them to carry.
Against the minimalist backdrop of the galaxy, people awe at the sight of yellow sparkles sprinkling the sky.
It’s so pretty, they chorus. Quick, make a wish.
But when a star falls; destruction is its end.
Where do all the wishes go now?
☆☆☆
Jongin is put under house arrest by Lu Han because he’s still running a fever. Lu Han tells him that he’s going out to settle some matters, and that he should be back soon. “Don’t move,” he warns, squinting his eyes for extra emphasis, before closing the door.
Jongin, pale and weak and yet also bored, fiddles with his phone while bedridden. He manages to pass a few hours playing Battle Cats, but eventually tosses it aside because he’s heating up under the sheets.
His body is stiff. Maybe I should watch television instead.
He makes his way out of the bedroom, plopping himself in front on the couch. It doesn’t take him long to realise that there’s nothing interesting on the television right now - heck, when was he interested in television programmes anyway? - and that he’s just aimlessly switching the channels around.
Jongin groans. Being sick sucks.
He focuses his attention on his work table - now his and Lu Han’s. He hasn’t been using it since he fell sick. It’s pretty messy, he realises. And so, without anything to do, Jongin decides to pack the table.
Ring files on the right, plastic files on the left. Loose sheets in the second drawer, stationery in the first. It takes awhile, but it doesn’t take much effort.
At the bottom of the stack, he comes across a fairly new file, titled ‘CONFIDENTIAL’. Jongin fingers the cover, contemplating on whether to flip it over. It wouldn’t hurt, right? There were no secrets between him and Lu Han-
Name: Kim Jongin
Flashbacks replay in his head as he reads on, blood draining from his already pale face at an increasing speed.
Handwriting. Bloodied fist. Kohl-lined eyes. Oversleeping. Lu Han’s black eye. The gun in his ha-
Jongin drops the file and runs.
☆☆☆
The first thing Lu Han realises when he returns home, is that Jongin is not there.
“Hello?” It’s his voice that echoes back. The apartment is empty and hollow and Jongin-less.
He swallows. He doesn’t get a good feeling from this. Maybe it’s the pricks at the tips of his fingers and the slight chill in the air that gives him an indication, but Lu Han feels as if something terribly bad is about to happen.
He cautiously walks in, every footstep of his sounding louder in his ear. Adrenaline rushes through his blood. It’s not a positive sign.
The second thing that Lu Han notices, is that the medical file he secretly stashed away, is now thrown haphazardly on the couch, the papers all over the floor. The top of the stack, lay the most important the vital one.
Name: Kim Jongin
Age: 25
Nationality: South Korean
Illness Diagnosed: Multiple Personality Disorder
Symptoms: Hallucinations, Loss of time, Murder
Notes: Alter ego - Kai.
“Shit.”
He runs forward to stack up the sheets, before his hands skim across white, shimmery paper. The handwriting is messy, light and slanted, hardly leaving any indents. Yet, the message it held weighed far more than Lu Han could carry.
He drops the letter and runs, runs, runs; runs to where he would be. Where he still would be.
Don't die on me, please.
☆☆☆
It’s his instincts that brings him to where Jongin is. It’s the place where he met the other Jongin - when he first confirmed his suspicions.
Jongin stands high and strong on the ledge of the roof. His eyes are swollen and red, and at the same time listless. Lu Han wants to pull Jongin into a tight hug, to tell him that it’s okay, you’re fine, you’re not in the wrong, please don’t do this to yourself. The stone in his stomach drops painfully when Jongin lifts the gun up.
"Jongin please," Lu Han pleads. The revolver shakes dangerously at the side of his head, fingers wrapped firmly around the trigger. "You don't have to do this."
The brown beads dangle by its thread, threatening to fall off at any moment. There's nothing to protect Jongin now.
"But I do," he croaks. "I'm not the police investigator extraordinaire. I'm not your lover. Heck, I'm not even Kim Jongin."
Fingers tighten. Hand steadies. All clear.
Jongin's voice booms over the hustle of the wind. "Haven't I sworn to catch the murderer before? Didn't we make an oath that we must stop him at all cost, to save the city we love?"
"But I love you even more, please, Jongin no, we can sort this out-"
"Lu Han." Wind stops. Voices humble down. All clear.
"I'm the murderer. The murderer is me. We're both the same." It's painful to hear, just like the sounds of nails scratching the blackboard - shrilling and haunting.
"Love isn't enough in this game - can't you see? I've killed so many innocent people and it's because of me! I deserve this, I can't live on my life knowing that my hands were once stained with the blood of my sins. I grew up promising myself to capture all the bad guys, all the criminals, and look what I've turned into? A fucking monster."
☆☆☆
Many things can happen in a split second-
"JONGIN NO!"
And there he goes.
☆☆☆
They say that when you look out into the sky and see a star twinkling, it’s actually exploding into billions and billions of tiny particles.
It’s dying, it’s dead.
But people also tell you the beauty of stars, about how it lights up the Milky Way and gives people hope to dream and wish. The soft light will be there for you when you need it.
They don’t tell you how, in order for stars to brighten up the night landscape, they’d need to fizzle out and die.
And so, for a dead star to reach Lu Han’s palms after he’s wished upon it so fervently, held it so tightly, protected it so dearly, he’s broken.
The little Beijing boy, who looked up at the constellations through his telescope every night, hoping for his star is come down and descend upon him, for he was too afraid to climb his very own Stairs Without Steps.
My favourite constellation is Cassiopeia, did you know that?
When he finally gained the courage to take the first step, he ran. Out of his own home country, and into a territory unknown. But just like the little girl, he climbed, not afraid of that he might slip, because he could already see the star twinkling in the distance, stardust flying around everywhere. It was so full of energy, and full of potential. He knew that it was his star.
But alas; the star was shrouded in darkness, separated from the rest. There were other stars he could touch, but him only wanted that particular one. It was the only one knew he would be satisfied with.
Slowly, he tiptoed towards it, determined not to let it get sucked into the black hole - no, it wouldn’t do justice to such an innocent star. He stretched his hand out, eyes wide open. He was about to touch the star! He would finally be able to feel it!
As he got closer, and closer, and closer, a shooting star had zoomed past him as well. Unable to balance the sudden change of events, he slipped and fell into eternal darkness.
But not without brushing the star first.
☆☆☆
If you loved - sorry, I meant love - me to the world and beyond, can I love you to the universe and under?
Let us both meet under the stars, under the trees, under the ground.
My heart is gaping, but it is heavy. It is full of secrets I can no longer keep (a big chunk belonging to you).
That ink pen you always use, the paper parchment you write with - how could I not have known?
I once told you that loving someone would mean I would protect the person with all my means. I did try, did you see? Could you tell?
Don’t be sorry. I love you and that’s all you need to know. This game was over the moment we fell in love. We both lost. And you know what that means right?
You and I against the world - I do like the sound of that.
-1
xoxo
☆☆☆
The story ends with the little girl in her bed, clutching onto stardust in her hand.
And that, is how their story will end too.
☆☆☆
note: weeps. sorry to recipient for writing slightly triggering material when you asked me not to. i have also taken upon myself to name this '10.6k of badly-written lukai'. but can you guess the prompt i used?
this deals with multiple personality disorder on a very superficial level. sadly, i am not an expert at this, and even with research (aka google), i might not have explained it very well. also, if you were wondering, the story about the girl wanting to touch the stars can be found here.
For: seulpeo
Pairing: Luhan/Kai
Rating: pg-13
Length: 10.6k
Summary, potential warnings: When Jongin was a child, he dreamt of dreams; when reality came crashing down on him, he dreamt of revenge; when he began solving crime, he dreamt of justice; now, when he’s with Lu Han, he dreams of love and a happy ending. [warnings for murder, suicide, character death, mentions of psychological disorder]
☆☆☆
By the time you read this, I'm not too sure whether I'll still be around. I haven't been good to you these few days, and I'm sorry, but the case is getting to me. It's strange how it all started, but this is how it should end. Promises should not be broken, and neither should the law. I should be punished, it's all my fault for getting you into this mess. You shouldn't be part of this. I'm sorry.
But no matter what happens, regardless of whether I'm dead or alive, please always remember this:
I love you
I love you
I love you
To the world and beyond.
0
xoxo
☆☆☆
There was a story that went like this:
Once, there was a young girl who wanted nothing more than to touch the stars. Quietly, she left her room and onto the treacherous path. She asked everyone along the way, whether they had touched them before. All of them, having seen it in the reflection of ponds, banks, grass, said yes, but she still could never touch them. Finally, upon the words of the fairies living in the forest, she set off on a long journey, to realise her dream.
It took her a horse and a fish to get to the Stairs Without Steps. Climbing it was difficult, but in the end, when she made it to the top, her eyes sparkled at the stars dancing around her, twinkling in the sky. The ground beneath her was pitch black, and she was afraid of falling, but she was still determined to touch at least one star, and so she tiptoed and reached out. And then, without notice, a shooting star zipped past, startling her and causing her to lose her balance. She tumbled and tumbled and tumbled, down back into Earth. But when she woke up, she smiled, because in her fist were the wisps of stardusts that she managed to touch and grab.
In the real world, a little boy had heard this story. And he, too, wanted to touch his very own star.
That, is where his story begins.
☆☆☆
He is awoken by an urgent call from his superior.
"It's a murder case- no, a serial murder case. I'll send you the address, head down to the crime scene immediately."
And this is how Kim Jongin is up and about at 7.34am on a Sunday. As he simultaneously brushes his teeth and puts on his work attire (a simple white tee coupled with a pair of jeans), a wave of nausea hits him and he's left with hands gripping the sides of the basin tightly. His knuckles turn a ghostly shade of white, but he waits until the banging in his head fades away before he lets out the shaky breath he doesn't know he's been holding.
It's been going on like that for a while now; maybe he should go and see a doctor to have his headache checked.
Still, Jongin has got a case to handle. It's probably a big case as well - he doesn't usually get called up unless it's something the basic police force can't deal with.
The day is going to be long, and it's unlikely he'll even return home before the sun rises again. He doesn't want to take the risk, and so before he leaves his apartment Jongin pops a panadol pill into his mouth. Hopefully the headache wouldn't attack again while he was still at work.
☆☆☆
It takes Jongin approximately twenty minutes to arrive at the crime scene. It's a little out of the boundaries of Seoul, cut off from most of the bustling population. Jongin turns left at a particular winding road and he's greeted with a rundown building. The usual killer hangout, Jongin thinks as he steps out of his car.
When he flashes his identity card the policemen guarding the area lets him in quickly, where Joonmyun is waiting for him.
Jongin switches to work mode quickly. "So how is it?" he asks, putting on a pair of surgical gloves.
Joonmyun leads him into the crime scene while explaining. “It’s the third case so far. There’s no distinct link between the three murders, but the murderer has been leaving some notes. It’s handwritten, which gives us a little lead, but this person has been clean with his murders and it’s hard to paint a clear picture as to why he or she would kill.”
“Send me the results of the analysis for the previous two cases,” Jongin requests and Joonmyun nods. Eventually, they arrive in a room with whitewashed walls. No furniture covers the concrete floors, and all there lies is a stiff body.
“The victim is a male, of twenty-five years old. Based on his rigor mortis, he was killed two days ago, via gunshot to his brain. Instant death, they say. No one found out until a couple of hours ago, because the factory isn’t open on weekends.”
Joonmyun pulls out a small folded piece of paper from his pocket. “This is what the murderer left behind. He’s been doing it for the other two as well.”
Jongin takes it from Joonmyun politely. He recognizes the parchment, because he has it in his own house as well. It’s shimmery and white - almost as if the murderer had wanted them to notice it. He opens the piece of paper, and all it reads is:
8
xoxo
“Is that all?” Jongin finds this peculiar, because he has never encountered such an open yet mysterious hint before. Murderers don’t usually leave traces as obvious as this, and it’s handwritten.
Joonmyun sighs gravely. “It’s the same for the other two, but the numbers were 10 and 9 respectively. Looks like this person is counting down.”
“So we can roughly estimate the number of times he or she is trying to strike,” he mumbles.
Jongin looks around the scene of crime for a few more hours, poking around to find evidence that might have gone unseen by the rest, but he comes up with nothing. The rest of his afternoon and evening is spent waiting around for the results of the autopsy and handwriting analysis to come out. Results for both come surprisingly quick.
“Well,” Yixing starts, “The only injury he has is a shot to the head, as you already know. He died from internal bleeding. That’s all.”
It’s not at all useful, but Jongin thanks Yixing anyway. When he goes up to Baekhyun, however, he gives him a bit more lead.
“The handwritings on all three papers are the same - consistent, deep, and neat. The murderer was definitely calm while writing this.” Baekhyun points out the deep indents in the words and numbers. It’s nothing like Jongin’s, who scribbles out everything because he can’t be bothered with penmanship when there are bigger things that matter out there.
When he gets home, Jongin feels like he’s fried his brain. All he can think about is that the murderer is definitely sly and daring, as if challenging the police force to catch him before the tenth murder.
I’ll catch you, I’m Kim Jongin, I won’t let mistakes and crimes happen.
That night, Jongin falls into a lonely slumber.
☆☆☆
Nights are when Jongin lives his life again. His dreams come alive and there's no way to hold them down. He often feels helpless - when you're in the dark, you struggle with the monster clinging onto your chest, refusing to let go. Jongin heaves and thrashes but he can still feel the remnants of fear from years ago wrapping around him. It's as clear as when it had happened; his sensory functions all triggered and it all feels so real - too real.
Sometimes the dreams are good. Sometimes, he dreams of the times before the Incident, where innocence was at its peak and Jongin could still imagine a happy future. He remembers the sun shining down, hitting the ground with the right amount of warmth that's not too hot, and not too cold. He remembers the feel of the soft grass tickling his neck and legs, the slow summer wind caressing against his hair. He remembers that on his tenth birthday, his parents gave him a brown beaded bracelet as a birthday present - "It will protect you and ward off all the danger in your way, always keep it on, alright Jongin-ah?"
But many times, Jongin falls. When he clutches onto the beaded bracelet, he's brought to the other reality that's far less innocent than what a ten year old should experience. Images replay vividly in his mind, engulfing and numbing him beyond senses. Jongin feels like he's bound by chains and muted by darkness, struggling against the invisible force but also against a monster that is very real - one that can hurt him both mentally and physically.
"So you do want to play as well, little boy?"
Help me.
Jongin wakes up, tear-stricken and body sticky with sweat. Unconsciously, his fingers go and twirl the beads on his left wrist; a sense of security. He doesn't stop until the first peek of daylight shines into his bedroom. That's when he's sure the monster has gone away. That's when he's sure he can attempt to be normal, and continue his routine until night once falls again. He's afraid, but life goes on.
☆☆☆
You see, happy stories don't entail happy endings.
They're just stories that haven't ended yet.
☆☆☆
Jongin was ten when he was sent to the orphanage. The first few months were difficult for the caretakers; Jongin barely opened his mouth, to speak or even eat. Every day, he had to be coaxed into ingesting some food into his stomach. Every day, he sat curled up in his bed, staring holes into the hollow walls for hours. No one could shake him out of it. Even when they pulled him out into the outdoors to play, he would persistently sit out on their activities, preferring to bask in the shade of the big oak tree.
The incident prior had shaken him badly, and all the adults in the orphanage knew it. Indeed, they pitied the young boy; they pitied how such a tragic incident had broken up his family, and also himself. It was as if he had been destroyed and thoroughly traumatized, his whole future ruined in a flash. But pity as they may, no matter how hard they tried to get Jongin back into the civilization - they just couldn't seem to do it. Jongin was just as hard and determined to shun off everyone in his current life.
It was months later, shortly after Jongin celebrated a very lonely 11th birthday, when another caretaker arrived into the orphanage Jongin was situated at. She was tall and pretty, hair always tied into a neat ponytail - a fresh graduate just helping out while waiting for her results. For days she noticed the withdrawn boy, yet what caught her attention the most was how no other caretaker tried to go to him and convince him to join in. It was most definitely strange.
"Hey, why isn't anyone getting that boy to take part in the orphanage's activities?" She asked one of the long-time volunteers. "Oh, that's Kim Jongin," the other replied, and then she told the graduate Jongin's story.
"That boy is really a sad case, he's deeply impacted by the happenings, so now he refuses to talk and do anything at all."
She knew it wasn't the way to live life - no, life had to go on even if the goings got tough. Slowly, she inched over to the boy, cautiously sitting down next to him. Jongin barely flinched at all. It was as if he didn't notice her presence.
"You're Jongin right?" A few seconds passed before he nodded. He didn't seemed annoyed at her, so she continued on. "I heard about your story, um..." How would she put it across to him?
"If you're going to tell me to put it away, then sorry, your advice is useless." The graduate looked up in surprise. Jongin's voice came out extremely firm and deep. It was something she hadn't expected from a child who was seemingly always in high emotional distress.
"All I think about, when I close my eyes, is that man's face. All I dream about, is how I can do the same thing to him."
It's the slight shiver that's sent up her spine that tells her this is all wrong. "All I really want is revenge," he said quietly, as if afraid that the wind would carry his words away for everyone else to hear.
They sat in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few minutes. She fidgeted for most of the time. She knew his thinking isn't right. Revenge isn't the solution to anything.
Before she realised, she blurted out, "But Jongin, for the people you love, you need to be strong. Thinking about revenge is for weaklings." From the corner of her eyes, she saw Jongin's own widen. She's got his attention now.
"Besides, your parents wouldn't want you to be like this. If you really want to, make catching all criminals your dreams. Don't dwell on revenge, it just isn't worth it. Rather than revenge, I hope you think of it as justice." She didn't know where the sudden confidence in her voice came from - heck, what did her words even mean! But she wasn't going to waver right now, she knew she was going somewhere.
This time, she turned to face Jongin directly. His expressions weren't giving away anything, but it was obvious that he was in deep thought.
Just like that, hours passed. When the skies turned a musky shade of grey and Jongin still hadn't uttered a single word, the graduate stood up, extending a hand out towards Jongin. "We have to go back inside, dinner's going to be served soon."
To her surprise, Jongin took it. Their walk back was equally as quiet; only accompanied by the soft rustles of the fallen leaves under their feet.
When they arrived in front of the dining hall, where everyone else was already seated, Jongin tiptoed up to her ears and whispered inaudibly: "Thank you." He didn't wait for any reply before running straight for his seat.
To anyone, she was just an university graduate trying to coax a small kid into opening up.
To Jongin, she was the messenger and push that he needed to spiral him into the life he was fated to lead.
☆☆☆
"Okay class! You'll have to stand up and tell the rest of your classmates what your ambition is! I'll just pick a random student... Jongin?"
"I want to be a police officer in future, so that I can catch all the criminals and bring the victims to justice."
☆☆☆
Jongin lifts his head up from his work desk at the sound of his phone ringing, brain heavy and groggy. The laptop in front of him jerks awake under his sudden movement as well, momentarily blinding him in a hue of bright white light and in the form of an empty word document.
And the light doesn't stop shining-
"Hello," he drawls, memories of last night drawing to a blank.
"Another case." Joonmyun's voice is curt - a rarity. It's enough to bring Jongin back to consciousness. Including this case, the serial murders would add up to six. The previous two cases Jongin had worked on gave him no lead at all. He still derived no answer.
"It's at the back alley of Apgudeong. Same death method. I hope you know this is getting serious, the public is starting to complain about the government not doing enough to protect the citizens. Our department, especially, is getting a lot of backlash for this."
Jongin nods, and as if Joonmyun could see, he continues on.
"Considering the severity of the situation, I've hired a good friend of mine to help out. He's a private detective, but he's good, you'll see." Jongin purses his lips and frowns. He doesn't like working with others. It just means half the efficiency and twice and trouble.
"Jongin." The resigned sigh is evident in his voice. "Just, just work well with him on this case, okay? We don't want more people dying."
Seconds trickle pass. Jongin recalls Joonmyun as more than his superior at work, but also a reliable friend he could always count on. Back when he was still a quiet rookie, dusting the files of old cases and brewing coffee for his seniors, Joonmyun had reached out to him and allowed him to help him out with his line of work - ultimately helping him to rise up the ranks in a short period of a few years. It was him who had seen Jongin's potential, and it was also him who had become his confidante; the many hushed words Jongin had once exclaimed to him while drunk on soju, are the ones that Joonmyun has never revealed and probably never intend to.
Besides that, Joonmyun always had good judgment. "Okay," Jongin says, finally conceding.
Joonmyun sounds considerably pleased as he gives Jongin a couple more instructions.
"And if you ask me," Joonmyun ends off cautiously, "I think the two of you will work well together; you're both on the same side of law and humanity anyway."
☆☆☆
At the break of dawn, the air is still stale. A dim speck of light peeks through behind the unlit buildings, shining down on the new day ahead. There’s more unknowns for the world to clamour about, for the world to be horrified of. A new day signifies the locked up insecurities fading away, gathering warmth from the sun to bring about a blanket of hope to cover a world of lost souls.
No one says it, but Jongin, Jongin knows he’s one of them. He doesn’t forget the many sleepless nights that he’s woken up from in cold sweat, memories of his past haunting him in forms of monsters in his dream. When he wakes up, he wakes up in gratifying silence - one that he doesn’t appreciate. There’s nothing more terrifying than hearing your own panting and cries, amplified by the four walls that seemingly cave in to strangle him, to take away all the breath he has.
No. Jongin never likes the night. At least, he hasn’t since-
“The night sky is filled with stars. They look out for you. So, Jongin, if you ever get lost at night, listen to the twinkling and watch out for an arrow in the sky. Because even amidst the darkness, there will be light to guide you home.”
Nights bring him a silence that is not at all comforting.
There’s no twinkling now.
☆☆☆
Jongin taps impatiently on his steering wheel as he waits for the traffic light to turn green. He’s in a state of unrest, unable to keep still. He fiddles with his phone, checking his messages and deleting his junk mails. When he looks up the light is still red.
He sighs. The world moves too slowly for his liking. Slowly, he leans his head against the window and looks out. The sun is barely out, and there’s not much life on the streets of Seoul. Shops aren’t due to be opened yet; the only people who are milling around are those on morning runs.
As he scours around, his eyes lock upon the side mirror of his car and he freezes.
Dark, kohl-lined eyes take in the form of fire combusting, burning brightly - burning dangerously. There’s a sticky trickle of red on the side of his pink-purged lips, which lift up ever so slightly to form a smirk. His skin is perfectly golden tanned; there are no blemishes to destroy the flawless demon right in front of him.
But what scares him most, is that he’s looking at himself.
Jongin blinks in confusion and trepidation, and the image in front of him flicks back to his current self - dark circles, dishevelled hair, bad skin. He blinks for a couple more times and grips the steering wheel even harder, but nothing in the mirror changes again. It’s not until the he hears the incessant sounds of horns behind him when he realizes that the traffic light has already turned green. Putting it all behind him, he drives forward, mind set on his destination. There’s a case to solve, he can’t lose concentration.
☆☆☆
The area is cordoned off by the time Jongin arrives, keeping the small but growing crowd of passerby away. He flashes his identification card and is brought straight into the crime scene, where the body lies.
He bends down to inspect, but is cut off by a slightly soft voice: “A single bullet right through the head - a clean kill, just like the others before him. It’s hard to find a killer who leaves no trace, and this person is no doubt smart, I’d have to admit.”
Jongin turns his body and is greeted by an unfamiliar face of doe eyes and full lips. It takes him a moment to process that this person standing in front of him is a male.
As quickly as he comes, the guy moves his head away from the crooks of Jongin’s neck. “I believe Joonmyun hasn’t introduced me to you yet.”
“Hello,” the man says, extending his hand out towards him, “I’m Lu Han. Nice to meet you, please take care of me.”
Jongin gives a quick look over: sharp nose, blemish-free skin, lean and tall. Lu Han has the face and physique of an idol, not a private detective recommended by a senior of his post. But he knows not to judge a book by its cover, and so he grasps the hand firmly and shakes. "I'm Jongin, the one in charge of this case."
"I know." The slight lilt in his voice and the playful shove he gives makes Jongin think that Lu Han's just messing with him. "Say, do you want to grab some coffee before heading to your place? I know this really good cafe nearby."
"What." If Jongin was drinking, this would be the moment where he coughs violently and attempt to keep his lungs in his stomach. "What do you mean by 'heading to my place'? We're supposed to be working."
"We are! All the documents and stuff are at your house right? We can't work empty- handed, you know." Lu Han has the audacity to cluck his tongue at Jongin. Jongin just doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Is this really the partner Joonmyun had picked out to work with him?
"We're taking your car, I took a taxi here."
That's it. Kim Jongin is done with life.
☆☆☆
“There’s a similarity in all cases. As we all know, the murders are all well-plotted and the killing catalyst is a shot through the head. We’ve ran a background check on all of the victims; none of them are related to each other in any way. Different ages, job scopes, schools - there’s very little chance of them knowing each other. We can’t predict who’s going to be targeted next. All we know is that there’s going to be 3 more victims- Lu Han?”
The said person looks up from the rubix cube in his hand. “What?” he questions, as if he hadn’t not been listening to whatever Jongin had just said.
“Did you even hear what I just told you?” Jongin rubs his knuckles into his temples. The headache has been getting increasingly worse and having an uncooperative work partner does not help at all.
“You just said what I already know,” Lu Han replies, and with a swipe he completes his cube. “Just like solving this rubix cube, there’s a protocol for everything. Take it easy, Jongin-ah.”
Jongin is mildly irritated. Maybe Joonmyun is wrong. Maybe he doesn’t need a partner to help. Maybe-
“There actually is a similarity,” Lu Han comments offhandedly. Jongin’s ears perk up immediately. “If you check their background again, you’d realize they all own guns.” He points at the laptop screen listing their profiles. “It’s all registered. Well, not all of them. But most of them do.”
“So you’re saying this case has to do with guns?”
Lu Han nods. “Most probably. I mean, the killer himself uses a gun to shoot, what’s there to rule out?”
Jongin ponders for a moment before he grabs the nearest pen and paper to jot it all down. When he’s done, Lu Han snatches the paper away from him and reads.
“Hey!”
“Mehrong.”
☆☆☆
“We can’t work like this,” Lu Han complains a few days later as he flails all over the couch. Jongin barely flinches.
“Why is your house so dull? There’s no colours at all, what is this, you’re such an old man and I’m older than you!”
"This is my house," he replies calmly, "does it even matter to you?" Lu Han scoffs and flails even more in response. "Well yeah! I need to have a conducive working environment in order to think! All I can think about now is how I want to smash paintballs onto your walls. This grey couch seems like it's going to swallow my brain up. And is that fireplace I see. You should paint your walls blue, they say it's good for memory."
Jongin frowns as Lu Han continues to rattle on. It's his own house, why should Lu Han care so much anyway?
He doesn't register what's going on until he's pushed off the couch by Lu Han, and also pushed out the door. "W-what?! Lu Han!"
For someone smaller in frame, Lu Han surprisingly has a lot of strength. "Come on, we're going to go home shopping!"
Once again, Jongin groans. He didn't sign up for this.
☆☆☆
Lu Han ends up bringing the both of them into a small antique shop in an isolated corner of the street right up. Jongin enters it warily, eyeing every ornament in sight as if they were tiny explosives. Lu Han, on the other hand, greets the shop owner cheerily with a wave, before dragging the unwilling latter over to a section.
"Hey, buy this," Lu Han says excitedly as he points at one of the lava lamps on display. Jongin watches the wax inside rise and fall with a judging eye. "And why would I even buy this?" he questions, eyebrow raised.
Lu Han waves him off. "Not only is it for decorative purposes, you can also watch it when you're feeling stressed up! Supposedly you'll feel calmer. And for someone like you," Lu Han gives him a complete look over - Jongin feels violated, "I think it's necessary. Also, it lightens up your whole apartment!"
Jongin blinks at his work partner. Did he drag him all the way here just to get a lava lamp?
"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll pay for this. But the next time, I won't!"
When they get back to Jongin's apartment twenty minutes later, Lu Han fusses over the lack of electronic plugs. He manages to find one at the back of Jongin's bed, and immediately plops it on the bedside table and switches it on. Orange spots dance around in the lighted liquid, and for a moment, Jongin feels lighter, the stress prior washing out. Lu Han grins. "I told you it's good," he says proudly as he slaps Jongin on the back.
Hours later, when Jongin's propped up on his bed reading his novel, he eyes the lava lamp on his right. Slowly, he reaches out to turn it on, once again getting fascinated by the calming shades of colours rising up and down.
He smiles to himself. Maybe Joonmyun was right; Lu Han was a good partner after all.
☆☆☆
It’s dark and quiet.
Jongin is scared he can’t find his way again.
☆☆☆
It's rare that Jongin sleeps over nine in the morning, so when he feels the strong glares of the sun's rays already piercing at his sleep-crusted eyes, he knows it can't be good.
Out of reflex, he reaches out to his phone to check the time - his display time states 11:05am in bright, glaring characters, as if teasing him for his demise. Underneath, there's also 30 missed calls and more than 10 unread messages waiting for him to respond to. Jongin lets out a frustrated groan, kneading his temples as he feels an invisible beat forcibly hitting on the inside of his head. He's fucked, he knows it.
He randomly swipes at one of the more recent missed calls, and it dials him through. It merely takes a few seconds before a shrill voice pierces his ears.
"JONGIN ARE YOU ALIVE."
"Yes I am," Jongin replies, feeling slightly irritated by Lu Han already. He should have dialed for Joonmyun instead, at least his voice was soothing for the ears. "I'm sorry, I might have overslept, I didn't hear my alarm."
The incredulous scoff is carried over the phone speaker well. "Jongin-ah, you overslept for one whole day! There was a case yesterday and this morning as well! We couldn't contact you at all, I knocked on your door but you never opened it."
Jongin lets this piece of news reel in. If he had kept them waiting for 24 hours, a few more seconds wouldn't hurt.
"So another two has died," he asks to confirm himself more than anything. Lu Han spills the details of the deaths and locations and tells him to "hurry your ass up, Joonmyun doesn't look very happy". Jongin is out of the house in five minutes.
Lu Han is the first one to approach Jongin when he arrives. "Your collar is up," he says, and he helps him to flatten the said collar. Joonmyun goes up to him next.
"Joonmyun-hyung, I'm sorry." Joonmyun's face softens when he hears the sincere apology. Jongin has never slipped up like this before. It's his first time, and he's sure that Joonmyun will relent, because he's Kim Jongin, hardworking police investigator that has never failed in catching a criminal before.
Joonmyun gives a hard sigh. "I'll cover up for you for... whatever happened yesterday. But don't let that happen again. Anyway, Lu Han has already had this place searched, I'm sure he can give you the insights." He gestures for Lu Han to continue on. Afterwards, he turns around to leave them to their own devices. Jongin mentally remembers to treat Joonmyun to lunch as a thank you.
"So... Loss of time, yeah?" Jongin looks up to focus on Lu Han. Absentmindedly, he nods and scratches his head. He sees Lu Han furrowing his brows before reaching out to grab the hand on his head.
"What's this?" The knuckles on Jongin's right hand are bloodied and pretty bruised up. The strange thing is, Jongin doesn't remember where he's gotten them from.
"It wasn't there when I went to sleep..." he mutters. "Maybe I knocked my hand against the wall or something."
"Maybe." Lu Han looks at his knuckles unconvincingly, but Jongin wouldn't blame him. He himself didn't think that happened anyway.
Lu Han lets go of his hand in the end, allowing it to swing lifelessly by Jongin's side. He stares at the bloodied hand harder, as if that would produce answers to the question.
"Well, on to the cases, shall we?" Lu Han gives him a tight smile and Jongin can't help but nod along.
☆☆☆
It takes awhile for Jongin to get used to Lu Han’s loud presence. Lu Han is all things that he doesn’t find in Joonmyun - he’s always cheerful and doesn’t let a bad case spoil his mood. He pulls Jongin out for coffee breaks and lets everything around him distract him. Jongin feels like the older one when he’s with Lu Han, but even so, he likes the feeling of secret joy bubbling in his stomach when Lu Han’s eyes twinkle; pure and untainted by the bad deeds he’s seen so much in his line of work.
“Hey,” Jongin suddenly says aloud while the both of them click away at their laptops, side by side.
Lu Han doesn’t look up, a frown of concentration lined on his forehead. “Mmm?”
“Do you think there’s a distinct line between evil and good?” It’s a question that everyone asks but never gets answered straight. Jongin doesn’t even know why he asks, when he already knows that the model answer for this is that there is none.
Lu Han doesn’t even stop to think. “Of course not, as my father would say, lines between anything in real life are all blurred. I like to see the positive side of things, that’s all. Where there’s evil, there’s good. I see the good in the evil. There’s innocence even if there’s malice. I mean, really, why not?”
He lifts his head up to smile. Eyes wrinkled, lips curved. Jongin loses his breath, but Lu Han doesn’t seem to notice.
And the secret joy bubbling in his stomach begins again.
Jongin thinks he’s fallen into a deep, deep hole that he’s not supposed to have seen.
☆☆☆
The streets of Seoul at eight in the night are bustling with people - Jongin and Lu Han being one of them. Just half an hour ago, Lu Han had woken Jongin up from his unexpected slumber and told him, "Hey, it's dinner, let's eat."
Lu Han brings him to a typical ddeokbokki stand. He orders a couple of dishes from the lady and tells her to bring a few bottles of soju. "Let's take a break tonight. Just lighten up," he says, cheeky grin on his face.
The inside of the stand is boiling, Jongin feels. There's too many people chattering and laughing. The sound of clinked glasses strains his ears, and it's just all too constrained for someone like Jongin, who yearns to be in a flexible environment.
Lu Han punches him on the shoulders. "I said, loosen up." Jongin sticks out his tongue in playful banter, and Lu Han claps his hands and laughs.
When the food is served, Jongin is already ravished. "It's not bad," he comments, and Lu Han gives a thumbs up. "I don't bring you to stalls that aren't delicious, you know."
There's a certain type of calmness that settles in the air. Lu Han and Jongin had never been the best of work partners, but they still fit together. They're both so different in their own ways, yet after a few weeks of spending time together, Jongin feels that there'll never be a partner so close to perfection like Lu Han. Lu Han brings colours into his life like no one else had; he's just like the lava lamp he had bought for Jongin - bright and shining and calming.
Lu Han waves a hand in front of him. "What are you dreaming about?" Jongin's brought back to his senses, and he brushes it off by saying, "Nothing. I was just thinking about how different we are in terms of our work. Before I met you, Joonmyun-hyung told me that you and I were similar, that we were on the same side of law and humanity. It's funny how similar yet different we are."
Lu Han chews thoughtfully on his ddeokbokki. "Well that's quite true." And that's where their conversation stops.
The both of them eat in silence while the surrounding tables converse in high volumes, spilling vulgarities and life stories and everything else that's possible with a little help of soju. It's only after they're done when Lu Han speaks again.
“The difference between us,” he calmly says, “is that you would prosecute all criminals and I would not.”
“What if it’s someone you love?”
For the first time, Jongin sees dark clouds in the windows of Lu Han’s eyes.
“If it’s someone I love, I would do all I can to protect the person. Even if it means prosecuting myself.”
☆☆☆
It's Lu Han who tells him to take a walk around the park after their dinner. Good for digestion, he says.
"But it's dark," Jongin replies, but he relents anyway.
The park is eerily silent at that time of night, and the only source of lights coming from the street lamp. Jongin feels strangely at ease, to be away from the hustle and bustle. He paces his footsteps to be in synced with Lu Han's, allowing the secret joy in his stomach to bubble again. The queasiness from the mixture of ddeokboki and soju is starting to settle already.
“How about we do this,” Lu Han suggests quietly. Jongin turns his head to face him. “I'll tell you a secret, and you'll tell me one."
“What’s the reason behind this?” It's weird for Lu Han to make a request like that.
"Nothing, really. I just thought that I could let out some steam. I don't really like keeping things within me."
"Um, okay." Lu Han gives him a grateful smile. "I'll start then," he says.
The stars are shining. Lu Han’s eyes, crystal clear like they always are, reflect the moon. “My parents didn’t approve of me coming to Korea to work. They told me to stay in Beijing and take over their multinational company. But I didn’t, because I didn’t like to be restrained. I liked the feeling of freedom and nothing was going to hold. That’s why I ended up as a private detective and not working alongside your unit.”
Lu Han breathes in heavily before continuing. “The night I packed my bags and left, they told me to never come back. They told me I wasn’t being a good son, and if I were to be bad, they’d rather not have me as a son. I left anyway. But do I think I’m a bad son? Not really. They could be bad parents. There’s so many sides to everything, it’s impossible to determine.”
Jongin bites his lip. The fact that Lu Han had just let go of his parents like that - it was so hard to imagine.
"Don't you miss your parents?" Lu Han smiles through wistful eyes. "Of course, why wouldn't I? But if I didn't leave, I wouldn't have met you."
Jongin feels his cheeks creep up to crimson red; Lu Han only laughs. "Now that I've shared this secret, it's your turn."
He thinks long and hard. This wasn't a secret he shared with everyone, but to him, Lu Han wasn't part of the everyone.
“My parents… My parents died in front of my eyes, when I was ten. They were cleanly shot in the head, both of them. The guy was crazy, he had wild eyes and was going to shoot me too, but then the police came. That’s how I became an orphan. I had no one to depend on but me. That’s why I’m so on the side of justice - I don’t want anyone else losing hope in their life because of a stupid mistake.”
Warm tears fall into his clenched hands. Both of them stop in their tracks, no longer strolling through the park. Jongin feels weak and stupid for crying in public - he is a manly man, goddammit - but he also feels lighter, like a burden was off his shoulders.
“But you still have me,” Lu Han says. He takes Jongin’s trembling hands into his own. “I’ll be the beacon of light in your life. From now on, I’ll be your backbone, your hope, your everything. You can be mine. We can have each other.”
☆☆☆
When their lips touch, Jongin feels like he's on top of the world.
Nothing can bring him down.
☆☆☆
It's hours later when Lu Han speaks, body bare and snuggled closely to Jongin to grab a bit of the body heat. "We'll catch the mastermind behind this together, okay? To save the city we love."
Jongin can only smile as he replies, "You and I against the world? I like the sound of that."
☆☆☆
When Jongin was a child, he dreamt of dreams.
When reality came crashing down on him, he dreamt of revenge.
When he began solving crime, he dreamt of justice.
Now, when he’s with Lu Han, he dreams of love and a happy ending.
☆☆☆
((But happy endings don’t happen if you don’t work to make it come true.))
☆☆☆
After so many cases, Jongin isn't surprised anymore that he gets called up for in the early morning, before the birds even start chirping. He's quick on his feet and in his actions, as he hurriedly changes out of his sleepwear and into more suitable clothes. Before he leaves he pauses at the door for a split second and runs back into the kitchen to grab a slice of bread to nibble on.
The first thing Jongin actually notices when he arrives at the scene of crime is not the body - he doesn't even need to look to know the cause of death, it's only out of basic police enforcement that he searches the place thoroughly anyway - but the fact that Lu Han is wearing a huge pair of sunglasses. Indoors.
He walks briskly over to his boyfriend. "What happened to your eyes? Did you get into a fight or something?" Jongin's more amused than anything, really.
"Um..." Lu Han only fidgets around, shifting the balls of his soles from one foot to the other, as if contemplating on what to reply. Jongin only manages to frown deeper when Lu Han awkwardly laughs and gives him a half-hearted shove on the shoulder. "This is a new fashion statement. Didn't you read Huang Zitao's latest editorial? Sunglasses are in the season."
"You don't need fashion statements when you're working on a serial murder case," Jongin murmurs in response, getting increasingly confused and worried when Lu Han once again fails to give an adequate reply.
"The case! Jongin-ah, focus on the case!" He attempts to force Jongin to turn around and begin scouring the crime scene, but Jongin's larger in size and also stronger, so the latter barely budges.
"Jesus Lu Han, what's wrong with you? It's not like someone punched- punched... you..."
Jongin has to physically hold back a gasp. The patch of blue-black on Lu Han's right eye is swollen and throbbing. "What happened to your eye," he demands. The past few days, Jongin's been caught up with endless amount of paper work and Lu Han had mysteriously disappeared, sending him texts saying I'm fine Jongin, go to sleep and whatnot every once in awhile. They haven't been spending a lot of time together despite dating and working on the same case.
"I hit myself with a water pipe yesterday while chasing down a criminal," Lu Han answers quietly - almost meekly. Jongin only raises an eyebrow. "But I thought you're solely dedicated to this case only."
To his surprise, Lu Han pouts and smacks him on the head. "Don't be so self-conceited and think I'm only here for this case, I don't work for the government, I don't get salary unless I work. I need to make money so I can buy more decorations for your house and also more nourishing food for you! Canned food isn't healthy!"
"Okay..." Jongin isn't entirely convinced but his conversation with Lu Han is taking up too much time. He can see Joonmyun not-so patiently waiting for him at the side. This issue can wait until they're alone together.
Lu Han smiles lightly. "Let's go. We've got a case to solve."
☆☆☆
Twenty hours later, and they're back at Jongin's apartment, resting together on the couch, both bathed and feeling extremely lethargic. They're nowhere near close to ending this case and this is problematic. Even Joonmyun is starting to pester, but even with their two brains combined, they haven't found much of a lead yet.
Tonight is the night Jongin decides to heck it and take a well-deserved break for once. He's been slogging his guts out for years, and the only way he knows how to break through a hard case, is to rest. Jongin closes his eyes and slowly inches his head over to Lu Han's shoulders, the ache in his neck muscles loosening and he feels like he's in heaven. Lu Han hums a little tune that suspiciously sounds like the DBSK's opening for One Piece.
I'll go any number of times until we get to that sky, now is the time, let's cross over, I believe toward one tomorrow, yeah yeah…
He doesn't realise that he's fallen asleep until he feels Lu Han's gentle proddings. "Hey, go back to your room." Lu Han's voice is sweet like honey; it's warm and the right type of sticky and Jongin never wants to stop listening to it. "Will you stay tonight?" he mumbles blearily, still very much in the world of sleep.
He looks at Lu Han through one eye, and he sees the hesitation. But he doesn't expect what's coming.
"Actually, I was thinking of staying with you. Like, permanently."
This time, Jongin lifts his head up to look at Lu Han straight in the eye. Lu Han looks back, but there's this strange tingle Jongin gets from him. Maybe it's the haziness, the cloud that Lu Han has brought that doesn't allow Jongin entry in. Lu Han's eyes are usually clear and telling; that's what Jongin had first noticed and also what he had first fallen in love with. The twinkle isn't always there but if anything, Jongin knows he loves Lu Han and he knows that Lu Han loves him too. Even as they both keep their silent, Jongin knows that it's love and concern and a mix of everything else that's included in the windows of Lu Han's entity.
That's when Jongin breaks into a tired grin. He heaves himself off the couch and pulls Lu Han by the wrist to do the same. The brown beads clash against tanned skin and fragile wrist. A new chapter has begun.
"I'd never want to leave you anyway," Jongin
says. Lu Han squeezes his fingers as a response, but Jongin can't help but feel that the slight tightness of Lu Han's grip seem to hold something deeper.
Almost as an afterthought, Lu Han blurts out softly, "I love you." Almost like an afterthought, the grip loosens.
Almost as an afterthought, Jongin replies, "Me too."
☆☆☆
Lu Han feels nice. Jongin likes it when Lu Han scoops him and pulls him closer, mumbling incoherent words into the crook of his neck. Most of the time, Jongin is the one who falls into dreamland first. Lu Han pats him on the back in a way that's oddly comforting. It feels like the old times, when his mother used to do that too. Sometimes, Lu Han falls asleep first. When this happens, Jongin likes to stare at the contours of his face, silently mapping them out with his index finger. Lu Han looks good under the reflection of the moonlight, eyelashes long and curled, lips slightly opened. That is what you would call perfection.
They get into a routine fairly quickly. Lu Han makes dinner while Jongin does the dishes. They end up sharing clothes between themselves because it's so much more convenient than splitting Jongin's almost bursting wardrobe ("Jongin, even your clothes are dull, who wears polo shirts anymore, I'm throwing them out."). On Wednesdays, they go grocery shopping. Some Saturdays, they visit the antique shops and buy more ornaments for their home.
It's scary how they fit in as one so fast, but Jongin doesn't mind, because it's Lu Han. Lu Han makes his world go round, Lu Han gives him a new purpose to live. Lu Han Lu Han Lu Han. If his life were a tweetcloud right now, the biggest word in the cloud would probably be Lu Han.
Now, when Jongin sleeps, he sleeps without a dream. Lu Han's arms around his waist are a safe haven that he basks on and crawls into for protection. They're his very own dream catcher and he's not about to let it go.
His sleeps are as dark as the nights now, but he doesn't mind at all. Jongin is happy with Lu Han and that's probably the best thing that's ever happened to him since his parents died.
Lu Han absentmindedly twirls the beads on his bracelet; Jongin sleeps guarded by an invisible force.
Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.
☆☆☆
A quiet month passes. The serial killer doesn't strike again, and so Jongin and Lu Han's daily routine include scurrying to and fro the labs and offices. Nothing is proven positive, and so Jongin is very rattled and unnerved.
"He or she is supposed to strike one more time! The timings in between each killings were pretty closely spaced, at most two weeks. This makes no sense." Jongin frowns into his coffee, mirroring the bitterness of it. Lu Han rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Maybe he decided not to continue on with it. Maybe he realised the importance of lives. Or maybe, maybe he just had someone he loved and didn't want to let go."
"It's no time to be sentimental Lu Han, this is serious," Jongin snaps in response, but immediately regrets but he sees Lu Han slightly flinching. He bunches up a ball of messy hair in his palm. "I'm sorry, I'm just really frustrated right now. It's been so long and we still haven't gotten anything on this person, I just don't know what to do."
Lu Han only gives him an understanding nod.
They continue on with this mundane cycle, never being able to get out of this. It's two weeks after, when deadlines are pressing, that Jongin falls ill.
"Jesus Jongin, you have a high fever," Lu Han chides, pushing him into their bed and under the thick covers. Jongin barely has the energy to protest anyway.He's shivering violently and his head is about to burst. The headache that has been away for a while is finally back.
"Hang on, I'll get you some medicine." Lu Han runs out of their room, but pops his head in just a minute later. "It seems like we've run out of panadol, hang on, Jongin-ah, I'll just run down to the pharmacy to buy some more.” Jongin hears the door slam shut before he slowly starts to drift to sleep.
And he never hears Lu Han coming back with the medicine.
☆☆☆
For the first time since Lu Han has stayed over at his house, Jongin dreams.
He dreams that he’s in a dark alley, arms crossed, body propped up against the wall. In his dream, he sees a man - half a head shorter than him, dressed in black leather pants, coupled with a leopard-printed shirt.
Without hesitation, Jongin raises his gun, aiming for his head and the right nerve.
And he shoots.
☆☆☆
It’s a slow process, when Jongin eventually wakes up. He realises, with a start, that he’s still in bed, and not some dingy old alley like in his dream. It’s also already morning - Lu Han isn’t in bed with him.
Turning his attention to the phone on his bedside table, he finds a glass of water and two panadol pills instead. Beside them, there’s a note that reads:
Jongin,
Another case happened today, I’ve gone down to take a look at it. Stay safe and healthy.
Jongin ends up eating the two pills and falls asleep once again. Hours later, he wakes up to the smell of porridge wafting from the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Lu Han pulls a chair out for Jongin and gestures him to sit. “I hope you like porridge, it’s the only thing I know how to cook other than ramen.”
“It’s fine,” he insists, slurping at the porridge with satisfaction plastered all over his face to show it. When he sees Lu Han stifling a laugh, he smiles as well, ignoring his burning head.
“In any case, give me details on the victim today.” Lu Han pauses for a split second before he explains. “The victim was a twenty-seven year old male, about 170cm. I don’t really have to say this, but yeah, same death method. He died because he was shot in the head.”
“Mmm. What was he wearing?”
“Wearing? Ehh, I think leather pants. And there was a leopard on his shirt.”
The porridge in Jongin’s mouth immediately turns into rock, and he finds himself choking painfully on it. Before he realises, Lu Han is up and pushing a glass of water into his hand, urging him to drink it. The water sloshes down his throat, and Jongin is able to breathe again.
Lu Han’s hands rub circles on his back. Jongin is still panting heavily, and he’s sweating profusely as well. There’s no way that could happen. It was impossible.
“What is it? Jongin, calm down.” Lu Han tried to pacify him but Jongin just grabbed his hands, eyes wide in shock. “I... I had a dream on this. Lu Han, I saw the exact same guy in my dream last night! I was hiding in an alley, and I held up my gun, and... I shot him.”
He sees the confusion on Lu Han’s face, and then the realisation slowly settling in. Lu Han squeezes his fingers as comfort, but he grips his delicate bones so hard that Jongin cringes. It’s unsettling, but it holds a certain level of reassurance as well. Lu Han’s touches, no matter how strong or gentle they are, all make Jongin feel better. It’s like he gingerly picks up the burdens and throws it aside, even if it’s for a moment only.
“Don’t be so paranoid, Jongin. It’s just a dream. You woke up and you were in bed right? Stop thinking so much about it.”
But Jongin just can’t. It’s not everyday that he gets a dream like that. In his dreams, he’s never the one holding the gun. In his dreams, he’s the one who sees another person wielding it. It’s strange enough at that, but he also has to go kill someone identical to the real victim too.
Goosebumps appear on his back. This is all so strange.
Jongin only shuts up because Lu Han looks like he’s about to cry. They continue to eat their porridge in unwritten silence, but Jongin’s mind is whirling with questions he cannot answer.
He’s curious, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat.
☆☆☆
People wish upon a shooting star because others tell them that wishes will come true.
But stars only fall because they’re laden with too many wishes, and it’s too heavy for them to carry.
Against the minimalist backdrop of the galaxy, people awe at the sight of yellow sparkles sprinkling the sky.
It’s so pretty, they chorus. Quick, make a wish.
But when a star falls; destruction is its end.
Where do all the wishes go now?
☆☆☆
Jongin is put under house arrest by Lu Han because he’s still running a fever. Lu Han tells him that he’s going out to settle some matters, and that he should be back soon. “Don’t move,” he warns, squinting his eyes for extra emphasis, before closing the door.
Jongin, pale and weak and yet also bored, fiddles with his phone while bedridden. He manages to pass a few hours playing Battle Cats, but eventually tosses it aside because he’s heating up under the sheets.
His body is stiff. Maybe I should watch television instead.
He makes his way out of the bedroom, plopping himself in front on the couch. It doesn’t take him long to realise that there’s nothing interesting on the television right now - heck, when was he interested in television programmes anyway? - and that he’s just aimlessly switching the channels around.
Jongin groans. Being sick sucks.
He focuses his attention on his work table - now his and Lu Han’s. He hasn’t been using it since he fell sick. It’s pretty messy, he realises. And so, without anything to do, Jongin decides to pack the table.
Ring files on the right, plastic files on the left. Loose sheets in the second drawer, stationery in the first. It takes awhile, but it doesn’t take much effort.
At the bottom of the stack, he comes across a fairly new file, titled ‘CONFIDENTIAL’. Jongin fingers the cover, contemplating on whether to flip it over. It wouldn’t hurt, right? There were no secrets between him and Lu Han-
Name: Kim Jongin
Flashbacks replay in his head as he reads on, blood draining from his already pale face at an increasing speed.
Handwriting. Bloodied fist. Kohl-lined eyes. Oversleeping. Lu Han’s black eye. The gun in his ha-
Jongin drops the file and runs.
☆☆☆
The first thing Lu Han realises when he returns home, is that Jongin is not there.
“Hello?” It’s his voice that echoes back. The apartment is empty and hollow and Jongin-less.
He swallows. He doesn’t get a good feeling from this. Maybe it’s the pricks at the tips of his fingers and the slight chill in the air that gives him an indication, but Lu Han feels as if something terribly bad is about to happen.
He cautiously walks in, every footstep of his sounding louder in his ear. Adrenaline rushes through his blood. It’s not a positive sign.
The second thing that Lu Han notices, is that the medical file he secretly stashed away, is now thrown haphazardly on the couch, the papers all over the floor. The top of the stack, lay the most important the vital one.
Name: Kim Jongin
Age: 25
Nationality: South Korean
Illness Diagnosed: Multiple Personality Disorder
Symptoms: Hallucinations, Loss of time, Murder
Notes: Alter ego - Kai.
“Shit.”
He runs forward to stack up the sheets, before his hands skim across white, shimmery paper. The handwriting is messy, light and slanted, hardly leaving any indents. Yet, the message it held weighed far more than Lu Han could carry.
He drops the letter and runs, runs, runs; runs to where he would be. Where he still would be.
Don't die on me, please.
☆☆☆
It’s his instincts that brings him to where Jongin is. It’s the place where he met the other Jongin - when he first confirmed his suspicions.
Jongin stands high and strong on the ledge of the roof. His eyes are swollen and red, and at the same time listless. Lu Han wants to pull Jongin into a tight hug, to tell him that it’s okay, you’re fine, you’re not in the wrong, please don’t do this to yourself. The stone in his stomach drops painfully when Jongin lifts the gun up.
"Jongin please," Lu Han pleads. The revolver shakes dangerously at the side of his head, fingers wrapped firmly around the trigger. "You don't have to do this."
The brown beads dangle by its thread, threatening to fall off at any moment. There's nothing to protect Jongin now.
"But I do," he croaks. "I'm not the police investigator extraordinaire. I'm not your lover. Heck, I'm not even Kim Jongin."
Fingers tighten. Hand steadies. All clear.
Jongin's voice booms over the hustle of the wind. "Haven't I sworn to catch the murderer before? Didn't we make an oath that we must stop him at all cost, to save the city we love?"
"But I love you even more, please, Jongin no, we can sort this out-"
"Lu Han." Wind stops. Voices humble down. All clear.
"I'm the murderer. The murderer is me. We're both the same." It's painful to hear, just like the sounds of nails scratching the blackboard - shrilling and haunting.
"Love isn't enough in this game - can't you see? I've killed so many innocent people and it's because of me! I deserve this, I can't live on my life knowing that my hands were once stained with the blood of my sins. I grew up promising myself to capture all the bad guys, all the criminals, and look what I've turned into? A fucking monster."
☆☆☆
Many things can happen in a split second-
"JONGIN NO!"
And there he goes.
☆☆☆
They say that when you look out into the sky and see a star twinkling, it’s actually exploding into billions and billions of tiny particles.
It’s dying, it’s dead.
But people also tell you the beauty of stars, about how it lights up the Milky Way and gives people hope to dream and wish. The soft light will be there for you when you need it.
They don’t tell you how, in order for stars to brighten up the night landscape, they’d need to fizzle out and die.
And so, for a dead star to reach Lu Han’s palms after he’s wished upon it so fervently, held it so tightly, protected it so dearly, he’s broken.
The little Beijing boy, who looked up at the constellations through his telescope every night, hoping for his star is come down and descend upon him, for he was too afraid to climb his very own Stairs Without Steps.
My favourite constellation is Cassiopeia, did you know that?
When he finally gained the courage to take the first step, he ran. Out of his own home country, and into a territory unknown. But just like the little girl, he climbed, not afraid of that he might slip, because he could already see the star twinkling in the distance, stardust flying around everywhere. It was so full of energy, and full of potential. He knew that it was his star.
But alas; the star was shrouded in darkness, separated from the rest. There were other stars he could touch, but him only wanted that particular one. It was the only one knew he would be satisfied with.
Slowly, he tiptoed towards it, determined not to let it get sucked into the black hole - no, it wouldn’t do justice to such an innocent star. He stretched his hand out, eyes wide open. He was about to touch the star! He would finally be able to feel it!
As he got closer, and closer, and closer, a shooting star had zoomed past him as well. Unable to balance the sudden change of events, he slipped and fell into eternal darkness.
But not without brushing the star first.
☆☆☆
If you loved - sorry, I meant love - me to the world and beyond, can I love you to the universe and under?
Let us both meet under the stars, under the trees, under the ground.
My heart is gaping, but it is heavy. It is full of secrets I can no longer keep (a big chunk belonging to you).
That ink pen you always use, the paper parchment you write with - how could I not have known?
I once told you that loving someone would mean I would protect the person with all my means. I did try, did you see? Could you tell?
Don’t be sorry. I love you and that’s all you need to know. This game was over the moment we fell in love. We both lost. And you know what that means right?
You and I against the world - I do like the sound of that.
-1
xoxo
☆☆☆
The story ends with the little girl in her bed, clutching onto stardust in her hand.
And that, is how their story will end too.
☆☆☆
note: weeps. sorry to recipient for writing slightly triggering material when you asked me not to. i have also taken upon myself to name this '10.6k of badly-written lukai'. but can you guess the prompt i used?
this deals with multiple personality disorder on a very superficial level. sadly, i am not an expert at this, and even with research (aka google), i might not have explained it very well. also, if you were wondering, the story about the girl wanting to touch the stars can be found here.