loop 1/4
Title: loop
Author: ajin
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Rating: PG-15
Genre: AU, Romance, Supernatural (?)
Word Count: 4,970
Summary: Jinki is revisited and hunted by a past he can't remember.
Author's Note of Doom: 2 months in making. It turned out to be a complete midfuck. I've tried changing my writing style but it didn't work. However, I've managed to use a genre which I thought I would never. Hence, this becomes a bit disturbing a few times, I guess.
For killie_latte because she prompted me. I hope I've lived up to the expectations.
With a dedication to hoodedstarr. If she hasn't been cheering me on this would have never been finished orz
Legs feeling heavy. Arms immobile. He’s tired more than on any other day. He stayed up the whole night finishing an important presentation. It went amazingly well but he hasn’t slept in the last 36 hours. The bus he usually takes back home hasn’t come either. It’s not far but there are dark clouds looming ominously above him. The sky threatening to open any second.
No matter how tired he is though, he stays a man of habit, glancing to the left every time he passes a shop. It’s the most natural reaction. Basic urge. He always has a strong desire to scrutinize every display.
He’s reminded of when he was in high school. That day the bus didn’t come either. He got lost on the way home at least three times. Took small streets and crossed the same park twice. He didn’t have time to start panicking though. It was so sunny and quiet. The roads were eerily empty. He kept balancing on the curb. Swaying slowly from left to right. Feeling like he could touch the air if he just wanted to. Almost as if he’d ended up in a different world. His own private fairy tale. In a narrow alley which seemed to have popped out of nowhere he came across a shop. Old and fascinating. Incredibly pretty. It was his first ever doll shop.
In the city he studies in has no such places. Everything is high and new and cold. Thousands of skyscrapers. Rows of glass. It’s almost depressing how the whole place seems so ordinary and gloomy. He has found doll shops here before but they were never what he was looking for. Sometimes he wonders if it wasn’t just a part of his imagination. A cruel trick.
This time he’s looking around because he’s used to it. Used to this routine. It’s been a long time since he stopped believing in miracles, coincidences. He’s too old. Tired of life but smiling. Out of habit and because it’s a game. So it hits him hard when he accidently stumbles upon a doll shop in one of the main streets.
There’s a stark contrast between it and the rest of the buildings. The shop is relatively small. Looks exactly like those old European merchant houses. Very narrow. Made of bricks in a warm chocolate colour. He has never seen such. When he touches them, they are abnormally smooth. Like the rocks you can find near a sea shore. Almost slipping from under your fingers.
Without thinking, he pushes the wooden door. The moment his foot touches the shop’s floor, a bell somewhere near him rings. He has a sense of déjà vu but doesn’t want to believe he has found the same shop as before. In a different city. On a different street. However, even the stale, exotic smell is the same. He hasn’t been able to forget it so he’s sure. The closets are just as tall and the shelves aplenty. When he notices the owner, he’s shocked. It’s been 6 years but the man doesn’t look even a day older. The expression on his face appears to be plastered. It also hasn’t changed.
“You came again.”
“I have what you’re looking for.”
He’s confused. There was never any specific reason why he wanted to visit this shop. He wants to say something but he knows there was no question or invitation to talk. It was a clear statement.
He decides to just look around. Eyes taking in all the different types of dolls. There are small ones and others whose sizes are that of proper men. Some are beautiful and some are ugly. They are all fascinating though and he can’t help but admire the skilled handiwork.
In the farthest corner of the shop he notices a secluded stand. It’s obscured by the shadows and kept away by a fragile, torn cobweb. He swears it beckons him to come closer. Whispers softly. Tugs at his shirt and forces him to walk.
When he sees the doll, he knows. This is what he came here for.
It’s done as quickly as the snap of a finger. He’s told he doesn’t have to pay. This time it’s on the shop. This time.
One minute he was standing outside, the next he’s holding the gigantic doll in his arms. It’s exactly his height. There’s no way he could hide it. So he tucks it under one of his arms and carries home. Not without receiving a selection of curious looks from the baffled passersby.
He’s pretty lucky. Lives alone in a small flat near the center of the city. Can actually afford it even though he only has one part-time job. It doesn’t even pay that well.
That’s why when he comes back, he’s not greeted by worried faces of his parents. There are no unnecessary questions like where did he go to? what is that doll? where did he get it from? It’s quiet and bright. The sun is setting. Coming through the big window in the living room. Passing the lacy, white curtains and drawing magical designs on the wooden floor.
He stands in the entrance looking around with a frown on his face. Where is he going to put the doll? He hasn’t thought that far and there really is not that much space left. He puts it on the orange couch and goes to explore.
He finds a lot of space near his bed but deems it creepy. He wouldn’t want the doll staring at him when he sleeps. Even if it’s just a wooden, soulless doll. It’s too intimidating. Too out of this world.
He trips on the broom that must have fallen down in the bathroom after he opened the door. Hugs the white tiles and shivers. Falls on his face after he tries to lift himself up. The situation is hopeless and he’s not too sure he likes all the bruises. It’s slowly getting dark. He knows he should switch the lights on because otherwise he may end up on the floor. Again. Break something in the living room.
It’s after a good hour of going in circles that he notices the empty stool near the counter in the kitchen. So similar to the dusty stand in the doll shop. He’s sure he’s never seen it before but lifts it up and carries out of the kitchen anyway.
He decides to put it close to the couch. Just beside the window. He makes the doll sit down and is about to stand up and switch on the light. But he’s stopped. There’s a breath-taking scene playing itself before his very eyes. The moon shines faintly. Silver and gold and white. Highlighting the doll’s face. Making it glow. It’s almost eerie how pale the doll is. Skin smooth and milky and looks so real that he just wants to touch it. Slightly wavy hair touching the shoulders. Red-brown in colour. Soft. Curled in all the right places. Framing the face like an exquisite painting. Full lips and bizarre, big, blue eyes. He thinks it’s the perfect example of astonishing art.
He’s pouring coffee into his favourite mug. It can fit almost half a liter of liquid inside. Rainbow in colour. Starting from yellow, finishing on white. Contrasts so much with the black coffee. He kills the rich colour after adding milk. White smoky vapour makes its way up. Turns into thin spirals and disappears after it touches the ceiling. Just like a fire signal.
He puts the mug next to the plate and looks up. The doll is still in the same place. Beautiful but not as eerie as it was last night. The sun makes its locks look almost golden and its previously empty eyes shine. He’s hit with the revelation that the doll is suddenly looking straight his way. He was so sure it was facing the wall when he left it but since he was tired, he decides it might have just been all in his head. So he sits down, turns the TV on and eats his breakfast. Ignoring the worry creeping up and down his spine.
It’s a few days later that he notices a strange phenomenon. The first time he does, he almost has a heart attack.
He’s sitting in the kitchen looking at the flowers he put in a vase on the window sill. It’s a lazy Sunday morning. He’s not going anywhere. Just wants to enjoy the sun. Elbows on the table and chin in his palms. He’s singing a slow song. The sound barely there. More like a whisper. His head is swaying to the melody and he’s lost in his own world. Suddenly there’s a bang. It’s so loud it startles him. Makes him yelp and lose his balance. Fall without grace from the kitchen chair to the floor. When after a long battle with the table and the chair, he enters the living room, he sees the doll laying on the carpet. Lifeless, with limbs sprawled around.
This repeats itself every week. There’s no pattern. It’s messy and random. Just like leaves flying off the trees and trying to reach the sky. He’s kept waiting, wondering. He can never figure out why.
When Kibum declares he’s coming over during one of their long and boring lectures, he starts thinking up a plan. How-to-hide-the-doll-before-they-reach-his-flat plan. He comes up with nothing. He’s not really surprised. So when he hears a loud “fuck” after Kibum enters the living room, he just sighs.
“Yes?”
“Jinki, why is there a creepy ass doll in your living room?”
“I got it?”
“Got it? From whom?”
“Well..erhm..you see..there was this shop and…erhm..I…”
“Jinki get your shit straight!”
“Yes mother.”
He gets a very unhappy stare in return and proceeds to re-tell the whole story in detail. Before he’s slapped, kicked or thrown out.
“God, Jinki, you have the weirdest luck.”
They’re sitting on his orange couch when there’s a loud bang. Kibum looks like the world is ending and the floor will swallow him whole. Jinki just sits unmoving. Too used to the situation. The noise more like background music in shops. The one that people completely ignore.
Kibum looks at him in a way that suggests he has just grown wings and has a cactus on his head.
“Why are you so unfazed?”
Jinki tries to shrug it off because what can he say. That the doll keeps falling off its stool. Just like this. Out of blue. Without a reason and against logic. Defying gravity. Kibum is a pro at nagging though so he gives up.
“It happens quite often.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“What do you mean by and?”
“Have you never thought there must be a reason why it falls down?”
“Of course I have!”
“Well?”
“Huh?”
“Reached any conclusions?”
“Not really…”
“Then think about it harder next time it falls down.”
After a week of focused observations and piles of notes he thinks he’s finally onto something. The doll always falls onto its back even though it technically should on its stomach. What this means though, he has absolutely no idea. He’s been staring and staring. Spent endless hours searching for a hint. He found none. So when it’s time for the boring lecture he shares with Kibum, he goes out of his way just to sit next to the other boy. Tells him everything and hopes for some explanation. Anything to make this more clear.
“This whole situation is too bizarre. Well…does the doll maybe have something on its stomach?”
“On its stomach?”
“Yeah. Since it falls on its back and all that.”
“I’ll check.”
He’s having a staring contest with the doll. Ever since he came back from uni, he’s been sitting in front of it. Trying to communicate telepathically maybe. He himself has no clue. The street lamps outside are slowly being lit up and he really should get down to business (as Kibum would say) but he doesn’t move an inch. The staring continuing until the doll falls down again as if it were the most natural thing. As if it always did it exactly in that specific place at that specific time. He takes it as a sign and decides to stop creeping and just do what he has been wanting to. He’s careful though. Each step he takes is calculated and slow. Footsteps so light he almost can’t hear them himself. Five minutes spent tip-toeing around the doll. He’s reminded of corpses when he looks at how lifeless and human it is just lying unmoving on the floor.
The first time he tries to unbutton its shirt, his fingers tremble. It’s illogical because he’s dealing with a doll. But they tremble and it takes him forever. He swears he could nearly hear a heartbeat at some point. A wooden copy of a human being doesn’t have blood or veins or cardiac muscles though. Still, his rhythm falters. His nails get caught on one of the buttons. He’s half-way done when he finally sees it. This time he knows.
He doesn’t tell Kibum. Pretends it was all in his head. Not that it stops him from spending more and more time just looking at the beautiful doll. Thinking what-ifs. He feels as if he’s been possessed. His hands are itching more often than not. It’s like there’s a magnet trying to push him closer and closer to the doll. Jinki can live without people. He really doesn’t need them in his life. Nowadays, he feels a strange emptiness when he’s not at home though. Sometimes he thinks he may be going crazy. Maybe the work and uni finally exhausted every single brain cell of his and attacked his heart. Because when he’s unbuttoning the shirt again today, his heart is in overdrive. The sound of blood pumping so loud and fast.
It hasn’t disappeared. The golden lock just beneath the doll’s heart. Shaped like the old door locks he’s only seen in movies. Smooth and without a single speck of rust. He unconsciously lets his fingertips trace the unfamiliar shape. Impossibly cold to touch. His breath hitches when he starts wondering what would happen if he had the key. If only he could put it inside the lock and turn it.
It’s not an unexpected revelation. Rather his only hope. He’s walking the same street he took on the day he found the shop. He’s looking around too frantically. His palms are sweating and he feels more nervous that he has ever felt in his whole life. He has no idea why. The last time he visited the shop everything was fine.
He comes to a halt in the exact same place where the shop was supposed to be but is met with a smooth, concrete wall. He blinks rapidly and turns around. Observes the surroundings but concludes he must be right. It was definitely this street and this crossing. He even remembers the street lamp. Still, no matter how long he stands in front of the place where the shop once stood it remains just an ordinary, grey wall.
Desperate, he decides to explore the back streets. It’s not like him to give up quickly. As long as there’s something left for him to do, he will take his chance. And so he walks the street up and down and then turns around the corner. The back street is pretty narrow but surprisingly clean, save for the mass of oddly shaped flowerpots. He doesn’t like the fact that there’s no one around but moves forward anyway. He gets gradually more frightened with each slow step. It’s halfway though. He takes a few deep breaths and prepares to close the remaining distance. Before he can do it, he unconsciously takes a look to the left side and is greeted with a door which look exactly like the doll shop’s one. He does a double take, almost expecting to see a plain wall again, but the door is still there with the warm chocolate bricks around. He doesn’t open them and at first just stands gathering his rapidly diminishing courage. His fingers flex and touch the door knob. Everything feels so very wrong but he still turns it and pushes the door open.
The moment he finds himself inside the shop, he’s flabbergasted. There’s no light inside. He can barely make out the shapes of the shelves. It gets better after a few minutes but the shop still remains empty and full of dust. It looks as if no one has visited it for at least a few years. Cobwebs painting designs on the wooden closets. Dirt smudging the glass. He presses one of his fingers to the nearest closet and pushes it down. The amount of the dust left on it is astounding and he quickly wipes it off with his shirt. He starts looking around for the key then but immediately wishes he didn’t. The shop owner is standing unmoving behind the counter. He’s taller and skinnier in a disturbingly inhuman way. His arms seem to be never-ending. His legs so very thin and bony. Skin stretched to an impossible degree, looking like it may tear any moment. There’s a fake, mocking smile on his face. It’s held in place by a string that goes from one corner of his lips to the other. The end with the needle still dangling in the air. His eyes look like big, gaping holes. Black and infinitely deep. Although he has no proper eyeballs or irises, Jinki can tell that he’s looking straight at him. He automatically takes a few steps back and crashes into one of the tallest closets. It opens itself and falls down just behind him. The momentum making him fall back as well.
There’s a deep and painful gash on his cheek made by the monster doll with sharp claws. The one that hit him when it was falling down. There’s a dozen of other dolls scattered around him. A few of them are in spasms, in a way that’s too human for his liking. The shop owner seems to be slowly but steadily moving towards him too. His smile sinister and growing bigger, threatening to rip at the seams. In a moment of confusion, Jinki glances over his shoulder and notices the familiar stand. There’s an object placed on top of it. It shines faintly from under all the dust. He grabs it without thinking. Scrambles for purchase and pushes himself off the ground using the fallen closet. He doesn’t even want to check how close to him the monster from his worst nightmares are. Once he’s up, he just sprints out of the shop as fast as he can, slamming the doors so strongly the hinges squeak.
He stops running only when he’s close to the tube station. His breath is ragged. Every inhale pushing at his chest painfully. He reluctantly turns around and is relieved to find the surroundings void of mocking smiles and empty eye sockets.
It’s only when he’s sitting on the train that he remembers the object he took from the shop. He looks at his hands and finds a dusty (but still visibly gold in colour) key. It looks to be the correct size and shape for the lock. His fingers tighten on it and he tries to suppress the obvious shivers running up and down his spine every time the train enters a dark tunnel. At some point, while looking mindlessly straight ahead, he catches a glimpse of the now overly familiar empty sockets. He freezes in his seat and tightly shuts his eyes. After he opens them again, there’s just his reflection on the window.
There are white walls and grey shadows around. The room he’s in seems to be never-ending. It’s also claustrophobically narrow. He feels trapped the moment he opens his eyes. Everything is just too much even without a word being said. Because he feels as if he’s standing in a sea of emotions. Feels as if he’s stealing someone’s heart. A heart he does not want. It’s too dark.
Broken dolls surround him. Broken mannequins. White and smooth. Perfectly sculptured but smashed to bits and pieces and recklessly thrown around. He’s hunted by those images even when he’s here. Standing still and feeling so small. He does not want those empty eyes to be on him. He’s almost afraid he will blend in with the scenery. Become a hollow, broken skeleton of a doll.
There are whispers surrounding him. Gathering in number and in volume. Becoming almost a scream. He can feel damp digits sliding across his skin and trying to push out his eyes.
He wakes up trembling all over. His skin glows with sweat. There’s a dull pain in his hand. When he looks at it, he realizes that he’s been clutching the key. After he puts it down on the night table, he notices the deep red lines imprinted into his palm. They take forever to disappear so he’s sure he must have been clutching the key for almost the whole night. He feels uneasy. Rolls in bed for what seems like ages before he finally falls asleep again. This time it’s shallow and dreamless.
He locks the key in one of the drawers in the desk in his room. They take over his mind, the what-ifs. He can’t shake off the uneasy feeling every time he picks up the key though. He’s afraid of what will happen if he actually uses the key. Sometimes he takes it out and stares at it for hours. Cleans off any visible dust. It’s heavy and solid. He’s pretty sure it’s made from real gold, just like the lock. What has happened seems like a dream but the deep cut on his cheek proves him otherwise every time he looks in the mirror. Still so freshly red.
Kibum looks at him for the longest time before speaking up.
“You look like you haven’t slept for ages. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Obviously there’s something”, he can visualize Kibum roll his eyes in an exaggerated manner even without actually looking at him.
“I’m just stressed.”
“By what? Your life is just the same as it’s always been…wait…is it about that doll?”
“No” but his response is too quick and Kibum knows. He’s smart enough to figure that Jinki doesn’t want to talk about his problems though. He’s worried but he will let him be. For now.
“Just don’t let it take over your life”, Jinki thinks it’s a bit too late to say that because it already has.
This time it’s full of colours. The sky is emerald and glittering with stars. The clouds looking almost like the deepest part of the sea. The horizon is covered by the ink-black night. The grass he’s sitting on is rich green and nice to touch. He lies down and breathes in the cool air. There’s just the sound of wind around and a steady heartbeat to his left. He’s startled for a second but looks up.
The boy sitting next to him appears to be a few years younger. He’s thin and his skin glows in the moon light. His hair barely touching his shoulder. And when he properly looks at his face, he realizes he knows him too well.
“Are you surprised?”
His voice wraps itself around Jinki and he lets it because it feels so good. He leans towards him and whispers a soft no. And somehow they both seem not to feel the need to continue talking, deeming conversations useless and just gazing at the stars. Until the colour of the sky brightens and the sun makes its way up.
Jinki is a bit uncertain. Still, he thinks being a coward will take him nowhere. He may regret his decisions later but there’s a chance that he won’t.
Come weekend, he takes the key out and shakily walks towards the living room. The doll is sitting on the stool unmoving. It hasn’t been falling down ever since he got the key. He doesn’t know whether it’s a good thing or not but it’s really not the time to dwell upon it. He puts the key on the floor and proceeds to unbutton the shirt. Once the lock is fully visible, he picks it up again and puts inside the lock. With one swift movement he turns it to his left. Then, suddenly, the key bounces up. He retreats his hand as if it’s been scalded and looks speechless at the key turning rapidly on its own. It stops as abruptly as it started. Everything becomes still. Jinki can even hear his own breath. It resonates in his ears.
He thinks that’s it and proceeds to stand up. However, the key is unexpectedly sucked into the lock. He swallows hard and moves away. What happens next almost makes him jump. The lock starts looking as if it’s melting into the doll’s skin. The golden colour blending with the pale white. Bit by bit. He digs his fingers into his jeans but can’t take his eyes off the doll no matter what. When it’s finished, the doll’s chest becomes smooth. There no sign left of the lock, not even a speck of gold. The skin is still milky white but with a very human tinge of pink. There are lean muscles under it and he can see the faint outline of veins. The doll’s mouth is curled into a barely-there smile and its eyes seem to sparkle with newly acquired life. Looking so mischievous that he expects a wink. He gets nothing though and the silence continues to hang over them. Still, it’s not awkward or heavy. Jinki is too busy admiring the beauty before him to even consider feeling awkward in the first place. And he doesn’t think he has any control over his body left as his hand grazes the doll’s cheek. It’s soft and warm. Nothing like it was before. It takes all his strong will to retract his fingers and finally stand up.
The doll’s gaze follows his every movement and Jinki really has no idea what to do. So he blurts the first thing that’s on his mind.
“Can you speak?”
The doll just looks at him with its eyes wide open and blinks, no sound coming from its mouth. It may look human but for Jinki in that moment it seems to have absolutely no grasp of emotions. Almost like a blank sheet of paper waiting to be filled with thoughts and memories.
“Stand up?”
Jinki wonders if it even understands him but the doll effortlessly does as it’s told. He automatically entangles their fingers and guides him to the kitchen. Somehow he thinks that a living doll has to eat. And when he give it a sandwich, he’s proven right.
“How was it?”
The doll once again just stares at him. Its long eyelashes fluttering. Jinki can’t help but sigh. He tries again though because he doesn’t want to live with a mute doll. Instead he wants to hear the voice from his dreams.
“Do you have a name?”
He notices a flash of recognition in its eyes and catches a whisper.
“Taemin.”
That night he dreams again. He’s in a forest of sorts. Everything is wet and fog is covering every single branch and leaf. The usual greenery seems dull. Far away he can see the fog tainted a faint orange because of the slowly setting sun. Taemin is with him. Their fingers are entangled once again. Heartbeats beating the same melody. There’s the sound of birds’ wings and the rustle of grass accompanying them. The forest seems mystical and he feels almost as if he’s trespassing on a scared place.
“Do you like it?”
Taemin’s voice is impossibly loud. The echo bouncing off the trees. Its smooth and warm. So tempting.
“It’s beautiful.”
He sees Taemin smile. He lightly tugs at Jinki’s sleeve and motions for him to follow. They disappear inside the foliage. He loses the track of time and just walks and walks and walks. Until he has no energy left and then Taemin stops.
There’s a big , black cloud in front of them. So big it appears to reach the sky. The smoke thick and curling at the edges. Taemin pushes him towards it. When Jinki can feel himself touching it, he grabs at one of its corners and pulls upwards. And Jinki doesn’t question how Taemin can possibly get a hold of a cloud of smoke and treat it as if it were a curtain. Instead he moves forward more and tries to look at what’s behind it. He notices a vast clear, blue sky. He doesn’t even glance back at Taemin, just ducks under the black mass.
When he wakes up, he’s greeted by the messy red-brown hair. It’s tickling his nose and poking the left eye. With surprise he realizes that there’s a warm hand in his hand and wonders how much of what he dreamt was real.
He spends the next few days at home. He’s too afraid of letting Taemin stay on his own. They don’t do much but Jinki realizes that before the doll came into his life, he had been lonely. He discovers that he has had a hole in his chest as well. It was gaping and ugly and rotting on the edges. Now it’s healed and there’s not even a small bump left on his skin. Everything blended as perfectly as the lock on Taemin’s chest.
Sometimes he will hear Taemin speak. It’s always just a few words. He can barely make them out because Taemin’s voice is so quiet and muffled by an invisible wall. That’s enough for him for now though.
| Część 2
Author: ajin
Pairing: Onew/Taemin
Rating: PG-15
Genre: AU, Romance, Supernatural (?)
Word Count: 4,970
Summary: Jinki is revisited and hunted by a past he can't remember.
Author's Note of Doom: 2 months in making. It turned out to be a complete midfuck. I've tried changing my writing style but it didn't work. However, I've managed to use a genre which I thought I would never. Hence, this becomes a bit disturbing a few times, I guess.
For killie_latte because she prompted me. I hope I've lived up to the expectations.
With a dedication to hoodedstarr. If she hasn't been cheering me on this would have never been finished orz
Legs feeling heavy. Arms immobile. He’s tired more than on any other day. He stayed up the whole night finishing an important presentation. It went amazingly well but he hasn’t slept in the last 36 hours. The bus he usually takes back home hasn’t come either. It’s not far but there are dark clouds looming ominously above him. The sky threatening to open any second.
No matter how tired he is though, he stays a man of habit, glancing to the left every time he passes a shop. It’s the most natural reaction. Basic urge. He always has a strong desire to scrutinize every display.
He’s reminded of when he was in high school. That day the bus didn’t come either. He got lost on the way home at least three times. Took small streets and crossed the same park twice. He didn’t have time to start panicking though. It was so sunny and quiet. The roads were eerily empty. He kept balancing on the curb. Swaying slowly from left to right. Feeling like he could touch the air if he just wanted to. Almost as if he’d ended up in a different world. His own private fairy tale. In a narrow alley which seemed to have popped out of nowhere he came across a shop. Old and fascinating. Incredibly pretty. It was his first ever doll shop.
In the city he studies in has no such places. Everything is high and new and cold. Thousands of skyscrapers. Rows of glass. It’s almost depressing how the whole place seems so ordinary and gloomy. He has found doll shops here before but they were never what he was looking for. Sometimes he wonders if it wasn’t just a part of his imagination. A cruel trick.
This time he’s looking around because he’s used to it. Used to this routine. It’s been a long time since he stopped believing in miracles, coincidences. He’s too old. Tired of life but smiling. Out of habit and because it’s a game. So it hits him hard when he accidently stumbles upon a doll shop in one of the main streets.
There’s a stark contrast between it and the rest of the buildings. The shop is relatively small. Looks exactly like those old European merchant houses. Very narrow. Made of bricks in a warm chocolate colour. He has never seen such. When he touches them, they are abnormally smooth. Like the rocks you can find near a sea shore. Almost slipping from under your fingers.
Without thinking, he pushes the wooden door. The moment his foot touches the shop’s floor, a bell somewhere near him rings. He has a sense of déjà vu but doesn’t want to believe he has found the same shop as before. In a different city. On a different street. However, even the stale, exotic smell is the same. He hasn’t been able to forget it so he’s sure. The closets are just as tall and the shelves aplenty. When he notices the owner, he’s shocked. It’s been 6 years but the man doesn’t look even a day older. The expression on his face appears to be plastered. It also hasn’t changed.
“You came again.”
“I have what you’re looking for.”
He’s confused. There was never any specific reason why he wanted to visit this shop. He wants to say something but he knows there was no question or invitation to talk. It was a clear statement.
He decides to just look around. Eyes taking in all the different types of dolls. There are small ones and others whose sizes are that of proper men. Some are beautiful and some are ugly. They are all fascinating though and he can’t help but admire the skilled handiwork.
In the farthest corner of the shop he notices a secluded stand. It’s obscured by the shadows and kept away by a fragile, torn cobweb. He swears it beckons him to come closer. Whispers softly. Tugs at his shirt and forces him to walk.
When he sees the doll, he knows. This is what he came here for.
It’s done as quickly as the snap of a finger. He’s told he doesn’t have to pay. This time it’s on the shop. This time.
One minute he was standing outside, the next he’s holding the gigantic doll in his arms. It’s exactly his height. There’s no way he could hide it. So he tucks it under one of his arms and carries home. Not without receiving a selection of curious looks from the baffled passersby.
He’s pretty lucky. Lives alone in a small flat near the center of the city. Can actually afford it even though he only has one part-time job. It doesn’t even pay that well.
That’s why when he comes back, he’s not greeted by worried faces of his parents. There are no unnecessary questions like where did he go to? what is that doll? where did he get it from? It’s quiet and bright. The sun is setting. Coming through the big window in the living room. Passing the lacy, white curtains and drawing magical designs on the wooden floor.
He stands in the entrance looking around with a frown on his face. Where is he going to put the doll? He hasn’t thought that far and there really is not that much space left. He puts it on the orange couch and goes to explore.
He finds a lot of space near his bed but deems it creepy. He wouldn’t want the doll staring at him when he sleeps. Even if it’s just a wooden, soulless doll. It’s too intimidating. Too out of this world.
He trips on the broom that must have fallen down in the bathroom after he opened the door. Hugs the white tiles and shivers. Falls on his face after he tries to lift himself up. The situation is hopeless and he’s not too sure he likes all the bruises. It’s slowly getting dark. He knows he should switch the lights on because otherwise he may end up on the floor. Again. Break something in the living room.
It’s after a good hour of going in circles that he notices the empty stool near the counter in the kitchen. So similar to the dusty stand in the doll shop. He’s sure he’s never seen it before but lifts it up and carries out of the kitchen anyway.
He decides to put it close to the couch. Just beside the window. He makes the doll sit down and is about to stand up and switch on the light. But he’s stopped. There’s a breath-taking scene playing itself before his very eyes. The moon shines faintly. Silver and gold and white. Highlighting the doll’s face. Making it glow. It’s almost eerie how pale the doll is. Skin smooth and milky and looks so real that he just wants to touch it. Slightly wavy hair touching the shoulders. Red-brown in colour. Soft. Curled in all the right places. Framing the face like an exquisite painting. Full lips and bizarre, big, blue eyes. He thinks it’s the perfect example of astonishing art.
He’s pouring coffee into his favourite mug. It can fit almost half a liter of liquid inside. Rainbow in colour. Starting from yellow, finishing on white. Contrasts so much with the black coffee. He kills the rich colour after adding milk. White smoky vapour makes its way up. Turns into thin spirals and disappears after it touches the ceiling. Just like a fire signal.
He puts the mug next to the plate and looks up. The doll is still in the same place. Beautiful but not as eerie as it was last night. The sun makes its locks look almost golden and its previously empty eyes shine. He’s hit with the revelation that the doll is suddenly looking straight his way. He was so sure it was facing the wall when he left it but since he was tired, he decides it might have just been all in his head. So he sits down, turns the TV on and eats his breakfast. Ignoring the worry creeping up and down his spine.
It’s a few days later that he notices a strange phenomenon. The first time he does, he almost has a heart attack.
He’s sitting in the kitchen looking at the flowers he put in a vase on the window sill. It’s a lazy Sunday morning. He’s not going anywhere. Just wants to enjoy the sun. Elbows on the table and chin in his palms. He’s singing a slow song. The sound barely there. More like a whisper. His head is swaying to the melody and he’s lost in his own world. Suddenly there’s a bang. It’s so loud it startles him. Makes him yelp and lose his balance. Fall without grace from the kitchen chair to the floor. When after a long battle with the table and the chair, he enters the living room, he sees the doll laying on the carpet. Lifeless, with limbs sprawled around.
This repeats itself every week. There’s no pattern. It’s messy and random. Just like leaves flying off the trees and trying to reach the sky. He’s kept waiting, wondering. He can never figure out why.
When Kibum declares he’s coming over during one of their long and boring lectures, he starts thinking up a plan. How-to-hide-the-doll-before-they-reach-his-flat plan. He comes up with nothing. He’s not really surprised. So when he hears a loud “fuck” after Kibum enters the living room, he just sighs.
“Yes?”
“Jinki, why is there a creepy ass doll in your living room?”
“I got it?”
“Got it? From whom?”
“Well..erhm..you see..there was this shop and…erhm..I…”
“Jinki get your shit straight!”
“Yes mother.”
He gets a very unhappy stare in return and proceeds to re-tell the whole story in detail. Before he’s slapped, kicked or thrown out.
“God, Jinki, you have the weirdest luck.”
They’re sitting on his orange couch when there’s a loud bang. Kibum looks like the world is ending and the floor will swallow him whole. Jinki just sits unmoving. Too used to the situation. The noise more like background music in shops. The one that people completely ignore.
Kibum looks at him in a way that suggests he has just grown wings and has a cactus on his head.
“Why are you so unfazed?”
Jinki tries to shrug it off because what can he say. That the doll keeps falling off its stool. Just like this. Out of blue. Without a reason and against logic. Defying gravity. Kibum is a pro at nagging though so he gives up.
“It happens quite often.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“What do you mean by and?”
“Have you never thought there must be a reason why it falls down?”
“Of course I have!”
“Well?”
“Huh?”
“Reached any conclusions?”
“Not really…”
“Then think about it harder next time it falls down.”
After a week of focused observations and piles of notes he thinks he’s finally onto something. The doll always falls onto its back even though it technically should on its stomach. What this means though, he has absolutely no idea. He’s been staring and staring. Spent endless hours searching for a hint. He found none. So when it’s time for the boring lecture he shares with Kibum, he goes out of his way just to sit next to the other boy. Tells him everything and hopes for some explanation. Anything to make this more clear.
“This whole situation is too bizarre. Well…does the doll maybe have something on its stomach?”
“On its stomach?”
“Yeah. Since it falls on its back and all that.”
“I’ll check.”
He’s having a staring contest with the doll. Ever since he came back from uni, he’s been sitting in front of it. Trying to communicate telepathically maybe. He himself has no clue. The street lamps outside are slowly being lit up and he really should get down to business (as Kibum would say) but he doesn’t move an inch. The staring continuing until the doll falls down again as if it were the most natural thing. As if it always did it exactly in that specific place at that specific time. He takes it as a sign and decides to stop creeping and just do what he has been wanting to. He’s careful though. Each step he takes is calculated and slow. Footsteps so light he almost can’t hear them himself. Five minutes spent tip-toeing around the doll. He’s reminded of corpses when he looks at how lifeless and human it is just lying unmoving on the floor.
The first time he tries to unbutton its shirt, his fingers tremble. It’s illogical because he’s dealing with a doll. But they tremble and it takes him forever. He swears he could nearly hear a heartbeat at some point. A wooden copy of a human being doesn’t have blood or veins or cardiac muscles though. Still, his rhythm falters. His nails get caught on one of the buttons. He’s half-way done when he finally sees it. This time he knows.
He doesn’t tell Kibum. Pretends it was all in his head. Not that it stops him from spending more and more time just looking at the beautiful doll. Thinking what-ifs. He feels as if he’s been possessed. His hands are itching more often than not. It’s like there’s a magnet trying to push him closer and closer to the doll. Jinki can live without people. He really doesn’t need them in his life. Nowadays, he feels a strange emptiness when he’s not at home though. Sometimes he thinks he may be going crazy. Maybe the work and uni finally exhausted every single brain cell of his and attacked his heart. Because when he’s unbuttoning the shirt again today, his heart is in overdrive. The sound of blood pumping so loud and fast.
It hasn’t disappeared. The golden lock just beneath the doll’s heart. Shaped like the old door locks he’s only seen in movies. Smooth and without a single speck of rust. He unconsciously lets his fingertips trace the unfamiliar shape. Impossibly cold to touch. His breath hitches when he starts wondering what would happen if he had the key. If only he could put it inside the lock and turn it.
It’s not an unexpected revelation. Rather his only hope. He’s walking the same street he took on the day he found the shop. He’s looking around too frantically. His palms are sweating and he feels more nervous that he has ever felt in his whole life. He has no idea why. The last time he visited the shop everything was fine.
He comes to a halt in the exact same place where the shop was supposed to be but is met with a smooth, concrete wall. He blinks rapidly and turns around. Observes the surroundings but concludes he must be right. It was definitely this street and this crossing. He even remembers the street lamp. Still, no matter how long he stands in front of the place where the shop once stood it remains just an ordinary, grey wall.
Desperate, he decides to explore the back streets. It’s not like him to give up quickly. As long as there’s something left for him to do, he will take his chance. And so he walks the street up and down and then turns around the corner. The back street is pretty narrow but surprisingly clean, save for the mass of oddly shaped flowerpots. He doesn’t like the fact that there’s no one around but moves forward anyway. He gets gradually more frightened with each slow step. It’s halfway though. He takes a few deep breaths and prepares to close the remaining distance. Before he can do it, he unconsciously takes a look to the left side and is greeted with a door which look exactly like the doll shop’s one. He does a double take, almost expecting to see a plain wall again, but the door is still there with the warm chocolate bricks around. He doesn’t open them and at first just stands gathering his rapidly diminishing courage. His fingers flex and touch the door knob. Everything feels so very wrong but he still turns it and pushes the door open.
The moment he finds himself inside the shop, he’s flabbergasted. There’s no light inside. He can barely make out the shapes of the shelves. It gets better after a few minutes but the shop still remains empty and full of dust. It looks as if no one has visited it for at least a few years. Cobwebs painting designs on the wooden closets. Dirt smudging the glass. He presses one of his fingers to the nearest closet and pushes it down. The amount of the dust left on it is astounding and he quickly wipes it off with his shirt. He starts looking around for the key then but immediately wishes he didn’t. The shop owner is standing unmoving behind the counter. He’s taller and skinnier in a disturbingly inhuman way. His arms seem to be never-ending. His legs so very thin and bony. Skin stretched to an impossible degree, looking like it may tear any moment. There’s a fake, mocking smile on his face. It’s held in place by a string that goes from one corner of his lips to the other. The end with the needle still dangling in the air. His eyes look like big, gaping holes. Black and infinitely deep. Although he has no proper eyeballs or irises, Jinki can tell that he’s looking straight at him. He automatically takes a few steps back and crashes into one of the tallest closets. It opens itself and falls down just behind him. The momentum making him fall back as well.
There’s a deep and painful gash on his cheek made by the monster doll with sharp claws. The one that hit him when it was falling down. There’s a dozen of other dolls scattered around him. A few of them are in spasms, in a way that’s too human for his liking. The shop owner seems to be slowly but steadily moving towards him too. His smile sinister and growing bigger, threatening to rip at the seams. In a moment of confusion, Jinki glances over his shoulder and notices the familiar stand. There’s an object placed on top of it. It shines faintly from under all the dust. He grabs it without thinking. Scrambles for purchase and pushes himself off the ground using the fallen closet. He doesn’t even want to check how close to him the monster from his worst nightmares are. Once he’s up, he just sprints out of the shop as fast as he can, slamming the doors so strongly the hinges squeak.
He stops running only when he’s close to the tube station. His breath is ragged. Every inhale pushing at his chest painfully. He reluctantly turns around and is relieved to find the surroundings void of mocking smiles and empty eye sockets.
It’s only when he’s sitting on the train that he remembers the object he took from the shop. He looks at his hands and finds a dusty (but still visibly gold in colour) key. It looks to be the correct size and shape for the lock. His fingers tighten on it and he tries to suppress the obvious shivers running up and down his spine every time the train enters a dark tunnel. At some point, while looking mindlessly straight ahead, he catches a glimpse of the now overly familiar empty sockets. He freezes in his seat and tightly shuts his eyes. After he opens them again, there’s just his reflection on the window.
There are white walls and grey shadows around. The room he’s in seems to be never-ending. It’s also claustrophobically narrow. He feels trapped the moment he opens his eyes. Everything is just too much even without a word being said. Because he feels as if he’s standing in a sea of emotions. Feels as if he’s stealing someone’s heart. A heart he does not want. It’s too dark.
Broken dolls surround him. Broken mannequins. White and smooth. Perfectly sculptured but smashed to bits and pieces and recklessly thrown around. He’s hunted by those images even when he’s here. Standing still and feeling so small. He does not want those empty eyes to be on him. He’s almost afraid he will blend in with the scenery. Become a hollow, broken skeleton of a doll.
There are whispers surrounding him. Gathering in number and in volume. Becoming almost a scream. He can feel damp digits sliding across his skin and trying to push out his eyes.
He wakes up trembling all over. His skin glows with sweat. There’s a dull pain in his hand. When he looks at it, he realizes that he’s been clutching the key. After he puts it down on the night table, he notices the deep red lines imprinted into his palm. They take forever to disappear so he’s sure he must have been clutching the key for almost the whole night. He feels uneasy. Rolls in bed for what seems like ages before he finally falls asleep again. This time it’s shallow and dreamless.
He locks the key in one of the drawers in the desk in his room. They take over his mind, the what-ifs. He can’t shake off the uneasy feeling every time he picks up the key though. He’s afraid of what will happen if he actually uses the key. Sometimes he takes it out and stares at it for hours. Cleans off any visible dust. It’s heavy and solid. He’s pretty sure it’s made from real gold, just like the lock. What has happened seems like a dream but the deep cut on his cheek proves him otherwise every time he looks in the mirror. Still so freshly red.
Kibum looks at him for the longest time before speaking up.
“You look like you haven’t slept for ages. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Obviously there’s something”, he can visualize Kibum roll his eyes in an exaggerated manner even without actually looking at him.
“I’m just stressed.”
“By what? Your life is just the same as it’s always been…wait…is it about that doll?”
“No” but his response is too quick and Kibum knows. He’s smart enough to figure that Jinki doesn’t want to talk about his problems though. He’s worried but he will let him be. For now.
“Just don’t let it take over your life”, Jinki thinks it’s a bit too late to say that because it already has.
This time it’s full of colours. The sky is emerald and glittering with stars. The clouds looking almost like the deepest part of the sea. The horizon is covered by the ink-black night. The grass he’s sitting on is rich green and nice to touch. He lies down and breathes in the cool air. There’s just the sound of wind around and a steady heartbeat to his left. He’s startled for a second but looks up.
The boy sitting next to him appears to be a few years younger. He’s thin and his skin glows in the moon light. His hair barely touching his shoulder. And when he properly looks at his face, he realizes he knows him too well.
“Are you surprised?”
His voice wraps itself around Jinki and he lets it because it feels so good. He leans towards him and whispers a soft no. And somehow they both seem not to feel the need to continue talking, deeming conversations useless and just gazing at the stars. Until the colour of the sky brightens and the sun makes its way up.
Jinki is a bit uncertain. Still, he thinks being a coward will take him nowhere. He may regret his decisions later but there’s a chance that he won’t.
Come weekend, he takes the key out and shakily walks towards the living room. The doll is sitting on the stool unmoving. It hasn’t been falling down ever since he got the key. He doesn’t know whether it’s a good thing or not but it’s really not the time to dwell upon it. He puts the key on the floor and proceeds to unbutton the shirt. Once the lock is fully visible, he picks it up again and puts inside the lock. With one swift movement he turns it to his left. Then, suddenly, the key bounces up. He retreats his hand as if it’s been scalded and looks speechless at the key turning rapidly on its own. It stops as abruptly as it started. Everything becomes still. Jinki can even hear his own breath. It resonates in his ears.
He thinks that’s it and proceeds to stand up. However, the key is unexpectedly sucked into the lock. He swallows hard and moves away. What happens next almost makes him jump. The lock starts looking as if it’s melting into the doll’s skin. The golden colour blending with the pale white. Bit by bit. He digs his fingers into his jeans but can’t take his eyes off the doll no matter what. When it’s finished, the doll’s chest becomes smooth. There no sign left of the lock, not even a speck of gold. The skin is still milky white but with a very human tinge of pink. There are lean muscles under it and he can see the faint outline of veins. The doll’s mouth is curled into a barely-there smile and its eyes seem to sparkle with newly acquired life. Looking so mischievous that he expects a wink. He gets nothing though and the silence continues to hang over them. Still, it’s not awkward or heavy. Jinki is too busy admiring the beauty before him to even consider feeling awkward in the first place. And he doesn’t think he has any control over his body left as his hand grazes the doll’s cheek. It’s soft and warm. Nothing like it was before. It takes all his strong will to retract his fingers and finally stand up.
The doll’s gaze follows his every movement and Jinki really has no idea what to do. So he blurts the first thing that’s on his mind.
“Can you speak?”
The doll just looks at him with its eyes wide open and blinks, no sound coming from its mouth. It may look human but for Jinki in that moment it seems to have absolutely no grasp of emotions. Almost like a blank sheet of paper waiting to be filled with thoughts and memories.
“Stand up?”
Jinki wonders if it even understands him but the doll effortlessly does as it’s told. He automatically entangles their fingers and guides him to the kitchen. Somehow he thinks that a living doll has to eat. And when he give it a sandwich, he’s proven right.
“How was it?”
The doll once again just stares at him. Its long eyelashes fluttering. Jinki can’t help but sigh. He tries again though because he doesn’t want to live with a mute doll. Instead he wants to hear the voice from his dreams.
“Do you have a name?”
He notices a flash of recognition in its eyes and catches a whisper.
“Taemin.”
That night he dreams again. He’s in a forest of sorts. Everything is wet and fog is covering every single branch and leaf. The usual greenery seems dull. Far away he can see the fog tainted a faint orange because of the slowly setting sun. Taemin is with him. Their fingers are entangled once again. Heartbeats beating the same melody. There’s the sound of birds’ wings and the rustle of grass accompanying them. The forest seems mystical and he feels almost as if he’s trespassing on a scared place.
“Do you like it?”
Taemin’s voice is impossibly loud. The echo bouncing off the trees. Its smooth and warm. So tempting.
“It’s beautiful.”
He sees Taemin smile. He lightly tugs at Jinki’s sleeve and motions for him to follow. They disappear inside the foliage. He loses the track of time and just walks and walks and walks. Until he has no energy left and then Taemin stops.
There’s a big , black cloud in front of them. So big it appears to reach the sky. The smoke thick and curling at the edges. Taemin pushes him towards it. When Jinki can feel himself touching it, he grabs at one of its corners and pulls upwards. And Jinki doesn’t question how Taemin can possibly get a hold of a cloud of smoke and treat it as if it were a curtain. Instead he moves forward more and tries to look at what’s behind it. He notices a vast clear, blue sky. He doesn’t even glance back at Taemin, just ducks under the black mass.
When he wakes up, he’s greeted by the messy red-brown hair. It’s tickling his nose and poking the left eye. With surprise he realizes that there’s a warm hand in his hand and wonders how much of what he dreamt was real.
He spends the next few days at home. He’s too afraid of letting Taemin stay on his own. They don’t do much but Jinki realizes that before the doll came into his life, he had been lonely. He discovers that he has had a hole in his chest as well. It was gaping and ugly and rotting on the edges. Now it’s healed and there’s not even a small bump left on his skin. Everything blended as perfectly as the lock on Taemin’s chest.
Sometimes he will hear Taemin speak. It’s always just a few words. He can barely make them out because Taemin’s voice is so quiet and muffled by an invisible wall. That’s enough for him for now though.
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