it's a dark night yet there are shining stars in the sky
it's a dark night yet there are shining stars in the sky; hyukjae/donghae | r | ~4900w
mafia!au | donghae’s been there for him ever since childhood, and hyukjae wouldn’t have it any other way. { mafia!au }
the sharp bang of a gunshot sound pierces the lazy silence of a 3pm afternoon. it resounds in the air, vibrating like violin strings which have been pulled and plucked at with the finest horsehair bow, and ricochets off the gray, concrete walls of the grimy back alleys. a few heartbeats lapse in between (one thousand, two thousand) before the air is suddenly filled with curse words and the ecstatic whooping of two boys.
"yes," hyukjae screams into the wind, hair flying back from his forehead and streaming along with the wind direction. beside him, donghae's in the driver's seat, lips pulled back from his teeth, bared in a grin almost feral in its ecstasy and thrill. laughing, hyukjae runs a hair through his already tousled hair, grinning and laughing and cheering.
invinicibility lies in their youth and because the two of them are eighteen years young and teetering on the cusp of adulthood, they think that they are superman. not because they can fly, not because they possess any ridiculous superpowers, but because in their eyes they are invincible and unstoppable.
☆
they hadn’t always been that way. their story goes a long way back, to the time when they were mere five year olds, eyes wide and hands clenched into small determined fists by their sides. both boys abandoned by parents who weren’t ready - ready to be adults, ready for children, ready for responsibilities that came with having to take care of a new life. donghae had been just the tiniest bit better off than hyukjae; he’d been dropped off one day at an orphanage, whereas hyukjae had been callously dumped in a quiet back alley far removed from the hustle and bustle of metropolitean seoul.
“mummy, where is this place? it looks dark and scary.” the walls had originally been painted white, but now as time passes they’ve turned yellow with age. sickly, deathly yellow. donghae hadn't expected to be brought to such a gloomy place on his birthday, but hey, maybe it's just another surprise his mummy has arranged for him.
“hush, donghae, we’ll be back soon, okay? mummy and daddy just need to run a few errands and buy some things for your birthday party before we come back.”
“but why can’t i come with you? it's my birthday!" he stomps his foot churlishly, pouting in his petulance. the head of the orphanage emerges from one of the dank corridors, back ramrod straight and hair pulled back into a stiff bun with not a wisp out of place. mouth equally as stiff as her starched white uniform, showing no traces of being capable of a smile.
she looks scary. mummy, i’m scared. "can i please go with you? please?” he clutches onto her hand, tightening his grip even further.
his mother wrenches her hand out of his and paints a smile on her face. “of course not, dear, don’t be silly! we’ll be back before you know it,” she calls, striding to the door as quickly as she can. “be good, dear, we're just going to get your cake, alright?” she says, smiling sweetly at him, a certain finality in her voice. his father didn’t even bother to come inside, choosing instead to wait outside the orphanage. no “i love you”s or “take care!”s, just “be good” - an impartial statement that doesn’t even portray any sense of motherly instinct or love at all.
“okay. goodbye, mummy. come back soon!”
he never sees her again.
☆
“lee hyukjae! did you know you’ve been a bad boy?”
“i’m sorry, mummy, i won’t pull the cat’s tail again.”
“no excuses. that’s what you said the last time. here, come with me-” and she drags him to the doorstep of the house, fingers clenched around his upper arm with a vice-like grip he can’t break no matter how hard he struggles and howls. stop, ow, you’re hurting me, he manages to grit out amongst breathless sobs but she doesn’t pay any heed, forcing him out of the house with a will that seems almost robotic in its single minded determination.
“you’ve been a bad boy, and mummy doesn’t want to take care of you anymore,” she whispers, pulling him along with her on the street and disregarding the curious glances of the various passerbys. they walk many twists and turns, the streets turning unfamiliar and strange, nothing hyukjae recognises.
“but mummy, why? last time i pulled the cat’s tail you told me to just say sorry and you stopped being angry with me.”
upon hearing his words, his mother stops and looks down at him. her anger seems to melt away, replaced instead by a sadness almost bone-deep in its intensity. sighing, she crouches down and grips him by his shoulders, bringing herself down to his level just so she can meet his eyes.
“hyukjae-ah, don’t blame me for doing this, okay? when you’re older you’ll understand that mummy and daddy actually love you a lot… it’s just that we don’t feel ready to love you as much as we can right now. when you’re older, you will understand.” but right now hyukjae doesn’t understand and all he really wants at this moment is to make sure his mother isn’t mad at him anymore, so he watches her with eyes opened wide and realises that his mother is still so young. she doesn’t have any of those ugly lines on her face that his friend kyuhyun’s mother has. those lines make her look old and sad and everything that his mother isn’t, so hyukjae wishes for his mother to always look like this - young and happy.
“okay mummy. are you still angry with me?”
“i won’t be if you stay here for a while,” she smiles, but her eyes are shining with tears she's trying desperately to blink away and hyukjae thinks it’s so weird that she’s crying while smiling. it’s probably an adult thing, he thinks to himself and disregards it completely.
“okay mummy.” so he sits down in the dark back alley and watches as she leaves, thinking that this is perhaps a new form of ‘time-out’ and she’ll return to take him back soon, where he'll watch x-men cartoons on the tv and eat cookies she's baked just for him and together they will laugh and his mummy will never have those frown lines, ever.
she doesn’t come back.
some kind soul, alerted to hyukjae's plight by his sobs a few hours later had brought him to the nearby orphanage. same yellowed walls, same uptight matron, same building filled with decimated dreams and forced smiles clenched over tight teeth to keep the tears from spilling.
"you'll be in the same dorm room as our newest arrival, donghae," the matron smiles, but it looks more like a grimace, skin pulled tight over the jutting bones of her jaw. hyukjae doesn't say a word, mutely trotting behind her, his short legs pumping at double the pace to keep up with her long ones. with his eyes red and puffy from copious tears, he peeks around the doorjamb to see a dour room, all grey wallpaper and white floors, nothing to hint that this is a room which children live in. there are two bunk beds squeezed into the confines of the tiny room, and on the bottom bunk of the bed nearest to the window sits a boy, his back to them, staring out of the window at the city outside.
"make friends with each other, okay?" the matron says with faux cheeriness as she bustles out, presumably to attend to yet another child. "okay," hyukjae whispers but she's already left, so tentatively he steps into the room and approaches the small boy.
"hello," he mutters as he taps the shoulder of the boy, hoping to at least gain an ally in this strange, unfamiliar environment. the boy (donghae, he recalls the matron saying) turns around, and somehow hyukjae sees himself in the tearful eyes and wan face of the other boy.
"hello, i'm donghae, and my mummy doesn't want me. she left me at this scary place today, and it was my birthday too. i'm five."
"i'm hyukjae, and my mummy doesn't want me too. you're not alone, donghae."
☆
time flies for the two boys tainted with cynicism and skepticism, never daring to trust anyone but themselves and each other from that point onwards. they meet when they are five, make friends a day after that, run around the yards climbing trees and scaring the birds until they are twelve and deemed "too old for those childish games". twelve-year-old hyukjae and donghae move on to roaming the streets in their free time after the mandatory classes their orphanage makes them attend, two souls lost in the crazy buzz of life. yet somehow at the end of the day their hands always find each other's, grasping on tightly to the only lifeline they know as they make their slow way back to the only home they know.
things change when they’re fourteen, teenagers full of resentment and the burning desire to do something, leave their mark on life before it’s too late. while donghae chooses to tread lightly through life, never daring to leave as much as an imprint on the places on which he tiptoes over, hyukjae is braver, stomping around quashing fear and doubt, leaving footprints that seem to scream lee hyukjae was here in large bold red letters. maybe, just maybe, they neutralise each other, timidness and brashness folding into each other and moulding themselves into one person. hyukjae encourages donghae to breathe, be brave, we’re young anyway while donghae pulls him back before he runs headlong into danger. hyukjae is the one who proposes this stupid, stupid idea and donghae is the one who plans its execution to perfection. nobody can say that hyukjae dominates donghae; the two of them work together, in perfect tandem, to ensure that everything goes smoothly.
“you’ve got the penknife, right?”
“yeah, don’t worry. you’re such a nag.”
“look, i’m just worried for you - for me. for us.”
“we’ll be alright. loosen up, hae, live a little.”
the day ends with the two of them greedily clutching on to a branded prada wallet stuffed full of credit cards and hundred-dollar bills, slit out from the very bottom of a coco chanel handbag. hyukjae thinks it’s more of the thrill than of the money, donghae thinks it’s just pure, harmless fun.
lying in their bunk beds laughing over their haul, neither of them feels that they have to stop.
☆
of course, all good things come to an end sooner or later. they get caught when they’re fifteen, the angry victim clamping on to their arms tightly (“ow, get off, you’re fucking hurting me”) and marching them to the police. to hyukjae it’s just one unpleasant sense of deja vu after another, reminding him too closely of the day he was marched to the alley and dumped there like worthless trash. donghae just follows mutely behind, eyes large but blank, almost as if he’d pulled a screen down over his emotions.
“so, you’re the hooligans who were behind all the pickpocketing recently?” the policeman they talk to is kind, maybe, with broad shoulders and an open face that says you can trust me. a pity they’ve learnt not to trust anyone ever since those fateful days ten years ago.
“so what if we are,” hyukjae sneers, face twisted in a gross parody of a smile. donghae just stares at the floor, resignedly not looking up.
“look, you guys are still underage. return the money to the respective owners and we’ll let you off, okay? but we’ll be calling your parents, of course-”
“we don’t have parents.” hyukjae and donghae chorus in time with each other, two voices mingling into one, bitterness tangible in the small confines of the interrogation room.
the policeman’s eyes rake over their baggy clothes, obviously too large for them, slipping off their shoulders. their shoes (mere slippers, actually), a size too small for their growing feet. their hair, which obviously hasn’t been cut in ages, all shaggy and overgrown with neglect. somehow, the fact that they’re orphans sounds believable, even with all those street urchins trying to lie and cheat him into taking care of them these days.
“okay, then,” he sighs. “which orphanage do you guys belong to?”
the ride back is silent, tension palpable. donghae stares out of the window, frowning at the passing scenery, whipping by in a blink of an eye.
"hey," hyukjae whispers, leaning over to take his hand. "we'll be alright, okay?"
"what if she doesn't want us anymore," donghae answers dully, referring to the matron of the orphanage. "what if she abandons us like everyone else has?"
"then at least we'll still have each other, right? don't worry, we'll get a job or something, i don't know, but we'll make it on our own. we don't need anyone else, do we?"
☆
"sorry, could you repeat yourself?" the matron asks disbelievingly, stripping off her spectacles and rubbing a hand over the tired lines of her face.
"um. these boys were caught pickpocketing, ma'am."
she doesn't say a word, just looks at them with disappointment etched into every line of her face. "i honestly thought better of you two than that. do we not give you enough here? we feed you, clothe you, make sure you are educated... no matter. since you don't appreciate whatever we've done, feel free to leave the orphanage. we don't want to use up valuable resources on those who don't want them anyway."
there's a barely-audible gasp from donghae, and hyukjae knows all of his nightmares have come true. to be abandoned, cast away, out into the harsh world, just like how he was so many years ago. it dredges up bad memories for the both of them, nightmares they've desperately tried to blink away in the harsh brightness of artificial lamps masquerading as sunshine. trying to provide whatever comfort he can, he wraps his fingers around donghae's, squeezing tightly, almost as if he'll never let him go.
"excuse me, ma'am," the officer interjects, looking around uncertainly before speaking the few words that change both of their lives forever.
"i don't mind taking them in, actually."
"what's your name?" she peers at him, almost as if trying to discern whether or not he looks trustworthy, and there's a tiny pang in donghae's heart as he realises that after all the wrong things he's done, she still cares about them. she actually gives two shits about us, he realises with a jolt. more than we could ever say of our parents.
"um. kim junmyeon, i'm twenty this year and i've just started work at the police office nearby, so you know where to find me if ever need be."
she nods, appraising his kind face and easy smile. "and your contact details, please?"
soon enough the adoption details are finalised and hyukjae and donghae are allowed to leave with junmyeon, their new guardian. it feels so surreal - after ten years of living alone, now they have somebody to care for them, to provide for and shelter them. what's even weirder, of course, is that this guy is supposed to hate them, supposed to report them and call them hooligans and look down on them. these thoughts run through donghae's mind in a cyclical fashion, looping themselves on repeat till he can barely stand it any longer. when he's gotten in the car, he suddenly bursts out with his question, "why?"
"why what?" junmyeon answers good-naturedly, never taking his eyes off from the road in front of him because he's a model citizen like that.
why would you even bother with us when our parents gave up without a fight? why would you be willing to love us? why, why, why? "why'd you volunteer to take us in?"
junmyeon's eyes meet his in the rear view mirror and donghae sees broiling storm clouds under the forced calm of black irises. "because i grew up like you guys. i didn't have parents, or even a proper family, just an aunt who never wanted me. and... i don't want you guys to grow up bitter like i did. it took me a while to wake up, but i guess i just learnt how to appreciate everything around me? it may be a little too late, but i'm hoping i can help you two gain back a bit of trust for the people around you."
oh. donghae thinks he might just like junmyeon; maybe a little, maybe a lot. he smiles tentatively at the eyes he meets in the mirror, and junmyeon grins easily back.
☆
hyukjae's falling asleep in the car, lulled to dreamland by the steady motion of the car, soft music on the stereo and donghae's deep breathing beside him. he feels safe with junmyeon, as if he can be trusted, even if they only got to know each other today. he feels rather regretful for being rude to his new guardian, because who knew junmyeon had a heart of gold behind that preppy policeman exterior? leaning forward, he taps junmyeon on the shoulder, startling the man.
"i'm sorry for being so rude at the police station."
"it's alright," junmyeon laughs, eyes crinkling into little slits. "you know, i was just like you when i was fifteen. snarky, always on the defensive, and i never took well to authoritarian rule either. i just wanted to be myself, to learn to trust someone, but i guess people let me down time and time again and i was just sick and tired of being hurt," he finishes, pursing his lips and tapping his fingers on the dashboard as the car slowly comes to a stop at a red light. hyukjae inhales sharply because really, junmyeon has expressed everything he's ever felt in the deep recesses of his heart, exposed his true feelings to light and really, this is even more reason to feel like he can trust junmyeon. junmyeon doesn't say anything more, turning the steering wheel and driving the car down a small, quiet street.
"we're almost home, you can wake him up soon." junmyeon mumbles offhandedly, tilting his head in donghae's direction.
"thank you for everything," hyukjae swallows. "i... we really appreciate it." he looks back at the sleeping boy in the backseat, mouth open and head lolling back on the headrest, and he laughs a little. junmyeon takes a backward glance and laughs too -
- but all of a sudden he isn't laughing anymore and there's a fucking hole through his head and why the fuck is there so much blood. hyukjae gasps, springing away and crouching down in the backseat, but it’s too late and he’s already seen the bullet hole in the windscreen, cracks like a spider’s web snaking out from the site of impact. it’s brutal, but still it’s almost beautiful in its fragility, but right now hyukjae is just scared scared scared. donghae’s woken up too, the shot startling him awake, jolting up with his eyes wide open and alarmed. the two of them don’t have any time to react before the front door of the car is yanked open, a sneering face looking in through the passenger door.
“hey look, there are two boys in the backseat. what do we do with them?”
“what the fuck, i thought it was just the police dude,” a gruffer voice replies.
“evidently not.” the first man speaks, and his voice is a little lighter than the other’s. “look,” he says, poking his head back through the window. “run back to your homes, and pretend you guys never saw this, okay? it’s not for kids.”
“but…” hyukjae’s shell-shocked, functioning without a rational filter on his mouth. every fibre of his being is screaming "junmyeon, junmyeon, junmyeon is dead" at him, and seeing the bloody corpse in front of him isn't helping matters much. “but we don’t have parents. or families. junmyeon-hyung…. he just adopted us from the orphanage today. we were going home..."
the first man visibly softens, lips pursed as if he’s thinking about what to do. black shades hide his eyes, possibly to conceal his identity, so hyukjae can’t tell what he’s thinking either.
“they’ll have to come with us, then. back to hq.”
“what the fuck, jungsu, are you crazy,”
“come on, heechul, they can’t be more than fifteen. and you heard what he said.”
“are you really developing a conscience, now? feeling bad over killing our dear junmyeon-sshi? we have our orders, jungsu, and we just have to follow them. no added baggage required." heechul’s voice is acidic, positively dripping with sarcasm.
“no,” jungsu replies sharply. “look, we were once like them, okay? no parents, alone in the world. boss took us in, too. it's our turn now, and i don't know, maybe we could train them to be like us.”
“huh,” heechul snorts derisively. “train them to follow our thug lifestyle? okay, but you’re answering to boss.”
donghae and hyukjae exchange scared glances in the backseat, uncertainty and fear rising in a crescendo until they can hardly breathe. they should run, scream, do anything to attract attention, but the thing is that they've been hurt so many times they simpy can't believe there would be anyone willing to help.
"coming?" the man named heechul taps his foot impatiently, looking back at the two boys. besides him, jungsu says softly, "we won't hurt you guys, okay? even though you just saw us kill that man, we did it on orders from our boss. we're actually humane, you know."
hyukjae sucks in a deep breath. he exchanges another glance with donghae, and something like a silent agreement passes in between them. before they leave junmyeon's wrecked car and enter the sleek black BMW, both of them glance backward and pay their own silent respects to junmyeon.
☆
flash back to the present. that was the past and this is now; three years on they are eighteen, fresh into adulthood. three years has taught them how to shoot a gun and throw a knife, to throw punches like rapid fire and how to aim kicks at the kidneys and liver. three years has taught them how to stay alive in the shady underground scene of the seoul mafia, taught them gambling and tricks to quick hard cash, such as drug dealing (but they’ve vowed never to touch the nasty stuff). three years on they are still the boys they were, because to them all this is simple fun but with added stakes. a mere three years later, and they’ve grown up. the donghae of now isn't as innocent and naive as he used to be, but rather he holds a certain intelligence in his large eyes, something that makes his brain spin and whir as he thinks of various plots and schemes. hyukjae, meanwhile, is the boy who is good at taking action, always the first one to volunteer and step forward when the boss needs something. they've remained a team, though, inseparable even now.
“give up.” donghae smirks in the smoky light of the bar. “we’ve won, you’ve lost.”
“you haven’t shown your cards yet, how do i know you have the winning card?” the man’s voice quavers slightly in the darkness, false defiance crumbling.
“because,” donghae drawls, drawing his cards out, “i do.” he slaps the card face up on the table, delighting cruelly in the way the man’s face blanches.
“no - no, it’s not possible, i- you cheated, didn’t you?!” he springs up, intending to throw a fist at donghae’s face, but is instantly held back by hyukjae.
“now, now, don’t be hasty,” hyukjae says lightly, yet there’s a definite undercurrent of threatening danger in his voice. “you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to play. so what if donghae's a master at this game? now, hand over the keys to all of your cars and nobody gets hurt.”
“no,” the man repeats desperately, clutching his hands to his chest. “but, my cars, they make up at least half of my wealth.”
"too bad," donghae repeats. "now, if you please." he holds his left hand out, palm outstretched, simply waiting.
almost as if in a trance, the unfortunate man reaches into his pocket and drops the chain of keys into donghae’s hand, swallowing brokenly all the while.
“good boy,” hyukjae smiles not without a hint of teeth. “now, we’ll let you go, and you’ll return back to your mansion and loving wife and you can explain to everyone how exactly you left with five cars but returned with none. go on, now.” he says, spinning the poor man in the direction of the door.
they leave the bar that night separately, one in a lamborghini and the other in a porsche, but they meet again at hq laughing wildly, drunk off triumph and the feeling of being two luxury cars richer.
☆
life is funny, really. donghae never thought he'd end up in the middle of one of those back alley brawls, fingers clenched into tight fists so hard his nails cut wan red crescents into the pale skin of his palm. i was such a good kid, he grins sardonically to himself, mocking the little angel he used to be. but now, here he is, grinning as his fist connects with the side of his opponent's face as the sickening 'crunch' of bone is audible. hyukjae is right beside him, whirling and twirling in a flurry of kicks, aiming for the gut and the stomach and occasionally, for his own entertainment, the balls. donghae laughs, a wild uncontrolled sound, as he watches hyukjae's guy sink to his knees, clutching his groin and howling. somebody makes a frantic dive for his midsection, almost as if to tackle him to the ground, and donghae gives a scornful sniff because tackling is so desperate it's not even fighting. he kicks out quickly, delighting in the way his foot connects with the man's skull and smirking as his eyes roll backward into his head and he slumps over. sadistic, but it's something they've been trained to do ever since that fateful day several years ago.
(it's always the same - donghae and hyukjae don't really feel alive until they're the last men standing, a pile of injured and broken bodies crumpled at their feet, knuckles dripping with blood (and they're not sure whether it's their own or someone else's) and bruised. there's something about being the winner that gives them an adrenaline rush, a feeling they've grown addicted to, and it's not as if they're going to stop.)
☆
one night they sneak out of their dorms and run to the bridge nearby. hyukjae's bag contains several bottles of neon-coloured spray paint, green yellow pink blue red. all striking colours, colours that catch your eye and burn psychedelic into your retinas forever. chuckling in their hoodies sweatpants and sneakers, they spray paint anything and everything they can think of onto the grimy underside of the bridge. rude words, vulgarities, quotes and phrases they've picked up along the years adorn the walls, cementing the fact that they'd been there. and maybe, just maybe, hyukjae pushes donghae up into the shadows and kisses him so hard he can't catch his breath. maybe donghae reciprocates eagerly, tongues wrestling and lips crushing themselves together. these are their secrets, the ones they keep with them locked up safe and sound in their hearts because in their world, to love someone is to leave both himself and yourself vulnerable. people die all too easily and the two of them are intimately familiar with this fact of life, so these stolen moments (kisses, fingers interlocking, warm embraces) are precious and all too fleeting. still, they're there, tiny butterflies in perched delicately in the maze of life they're constantly lost in.
they leave a tiny message in a hidden corner somewhere, small words that spell out "donghae and hyukjae were here". a little testament from when they were children, together ever since then.
☆
"do you ever regret choosing this life?"
"yeah, well, sometimes, because i mean i don't really fancy the thought that we could die any day. rival gangs could get us, the police could catch us... but I guess it's not all that bad."
"at least we're free, right?"
"at least we had people to care for us. jungsu-hyung, heechul-hyung... we owe them a lot."
"and junmyeon-hyung." a moment of respectful silence for their adoptive father they never got to know.
"yes," the word is almost a whisper. "and...i'm just really glad i had you throughout this, you know?"
a smile is audible in hyukjae's answer. "i'm really glad to have you too, you sappy thing."
neither of them have any idea when this is going to end (or if it's ever going to end, because they're pretty sure being in a gang is a lifetime thing). but they know that as long as they have each other, they're going to shine as brightly as they can, glowing and burning until someday they explode in a flaming supernova; and even then they'll still be together, particles of themselves scattered amongst the sky, irrevocably and intrinsically linked. they're going to shine on forever, and none of them have any qualms about that.
end