Fanfiction: In Another World
Title: In Another World (Part 2/3)
Genre: Drama/AU
Rating: R
Pairing: Jongyu and Ontae
Summary: They were too similar, and they were too different. He was stuck between two choices even though the answer should have been obvious.
A/N: 7243 words, mature language, death.
Previous: Part 1
If there was a choice, Jinki would have ignored his consciousness pulling at the edges of his mind, coaxing him to awaken. He had long overslept, ignoring the several times his body had told him to get up, but this one time, his consciousness won as Jinki’s stomach growled pathetically. Of course it would be his appetite that would defeat his sheer desire to deny his existence and Jinki opened his eyes slowly.
Ready to raise a hand to rub the crust from his eyes, Jinki squeaked, instead rolling onto his side and holding himself tightly. His limbs were heavy, aching from the previous night, the night that Jinki wanted to keep at the back of his mind. His body had other plans though and would not allow him to forget. It took several attempts before Jinki could get himself to sit up with a hoarse groan. Even better, Jinki coughed, fingering his sore throat, voice long gone from overuse.
Jinki looked around and Jonghyun was nowhere to be found, probably back in the frontlines. He was not sure how long they had done it; all Jinki knew was that it had definitely gone into the morning hours, ending with Jonghyun sobbing into his chest, mouthing apologies to an unresponsive Jinki, each one burning into his skin. A scoff, and Jinki rubbed a hand over his head in revulsion. He could smell it in the room, the putrid smell of sex, sweat and secretions, quite unlike the flowery scent of afterglow he had always imagined.
But it was a small price to pay, giving the only thing he could give to Jonghyun. It was a small price, and Jinki knew he owed so much more as he looked to the wooden table of the room, a change of clothes, water and food all laid out; an act of consideration much undeserved. Guilt prickled his insides, sadly becoming a rather common feeling, and Jinki stumbled upwards, his exposed legs barely supporting him as he made his way to the table.
It was the first thing he could think of doing, and Jinki opened the water bottle, trickling its contents into a tissue conveniently placed by the meager meal of rice and pork. Falling with his knees to the concrete floor, Jinki reached back till the wet paper touched his skin, holding back chokes as he scrubbed his backside, scrubbing the ruddy hole that smelt putrid. He wanted to clean it, he wanted the water to get rid of it, get rid of the memory, but it was a hopeless thought.
Jinki stopped, burying the tissue beneath heaps of garbage in a bin that Jonghyun emptied for him. He did not want his friend to spot it; Jinki did not want Jonghyun to know that he regretted it.
There was nothing left to do but continue on like nothing had happened, and Jinki proceeded to the tasks that his body, although aching, knew automatically to do: roll up the sheets, wash his face and hands, change into given clothes, eat food, and start to fix things. Jinki headed towards the door where two burlap sacks rested, fallen behind but easy enough work to catch up on. He reached for their grips, suddenly halting as the lock came into Jinki’s eyesight.
It was an impulse, his hand reaching out to the doorknob but Jinki was able to stop himself just short of the metal grip. The thoughts flooded his head, a scarily tall figure with the intent to kill, a best friend lost, but mostly about a boy with blue eyes, bright red hair and the most angelic smile. Still, he could not do it; Jinki could not attempt to open the door, remembering Jonghyun and the perplexing look of utter betrayal and confusion. A grunt and Jinki turned away, dragging the two bags of gnarled metal behind him to his work corner.
He believed that fixing these damaged weapons would distract him, screwing in one bolt after another, grabbing the thingamadoo to bend the curved plates flat, but the images flashed through his eyes and the sounds accompanied, made up of quacks and laughs. Jinki leaned back in his chair and released a long sigh. He was the acclaimed genius, so why could he not think logically, why could he not think of Taemin strictly as the enemy? Maybe it was because the logic was as simple as Taemin had explained; they wanted to see each other.
Jinki shook his head, hammering the metal back into place, hammering the foreign thoughts away from his mind. He had only known the boy for a couple of hours, so why did it matter? Jinki screwed in another bolt, thoughts focused on the weapon of course, except he wondered, how could their eyes be so blue and why was Taemin so funny? No, the gun’s balance was obviously wrong, with the crack at the head. Jinki just needed to weld it together with the torch, although he did not feel foolish joking with the red-haired man like he did with Jonghyun, it was just so natural in comparison.
A frustrated cry and Jinki ran his hands through his hair, forehead collapsing on the edge of his desk. What was wrong with him, why could he just not focus? He looked at the gun, even more bent out of shape than when Jinki first received it.
It was going to be a long day.
These long days turned into a week as Jinki struggled, the most miserable he had ever felt since he could remember. He could barely fix anything to a suitable shape in hours, the task usually only taking him minutes per weapon. Jinki was falling behind, only fixing two bagfuls when he had received five. The men with short beards would talk to him sooner or later for sure, and Jinki dreaded the thought, their old wrinkly faces lecturing him with beady eyes and solemn frowns, making him feel the pressures of supporting their community.
But worst, the absolute worst of all was the cold empty feeling that made a space behind Jinki’s ribcage. The averted gaze from Jonghyun, the cold shoulders where the man would only come to make sure Jinki was alive with a beating heart, leaving behind rations of water and food. Jonghyun had not talked to him at all since that night, and every night since then Jinki had slept alone, talked to the walls in jest. He was not sure where Jonghyun went at night but he tried not to think about it because Jinki knew instantly where his thoughts went, that Jonghyun was touching women with the body, the body that had taken his own.
Jinki huddled under the blankets, alone again for the seventh night. Jonghyun had come just before, actually looking at Jinki for a short period before leaving, but the older man did not have the courage to reach out to his friend. Jinki could not tell Jonghyun the words he wanted to say, that he was sorry and everything could go back to normal. He could not tell Jonghyun this message because Jinki could not lie to his friend; he still thought about Taemin despite all his attempts to do otherwise.
It frightened him that he was becoming so attached to a connection that had lasted so short a time, and Jinki worried that the saying he read about was not true, the one that stated ‘time healed all wounds.’ So long had past and Jinki could still feel it, the feeling of impending doom and the empty pain that forever ached in his chest. A small part of him wished he could be swallowed into a deep hole, infinitely deep like the crevice, but Jinki knew that wish would go unfulfilled. The closest solace he ever had, keeping him from reaching a point of insanity was sleep, a long undisturbed sleep that seemed to last longer and longer every passing day.
Therefore, feeling a persistent nudge at his backside, Jinki’s eyebrows furrowed. It was barely morning according to his internal clock and he could certainly sleep longer and there was no way it was Jonghyun, unless- Jinki opened his eyes, turning around, hoping to see friendly black eyes and a sideways smirk. Instead his gaze was met with a sharp unyielding darkened glare, thin lips twisted into an annoyed frown.
Jinki yelped, backing away from the coldest eyes he had ever seen, a scary first impression. The young man in front of him snorted, a nasal quality to his voice.
“Melodramatic aren’t you?” said the now standing figure, arms crossed and hip arched in a feminine manner.
Scanning the man up and down, Jinki was left confused as he saw a combination of features. Light auburn hair streaked with bands of yellow and green, sharp black eyes, broad shoulders on a thin frame, pale skin, and perhaps slightly less than an inch taller than Jinki himself. The standing youth was clad in a long blue tank with an underlying black one, and Jinki struggled to find the right words,
“You-you look like both,” stuttered Jinki through a mixture of surprise and shock, uncertain of whether or not it was necessary to be on guard.
The younger man arched a brow and stared down at Jinki. “Both?”
“Like a Juls and a Yous,” explained Jinki, jaw still slack in disbelief, “But that can’t be possible.”
“Well then it isn’t possible,” snapped the young man, causing Jinki to flinch as he was approached and scrambled back with his palms into a wall, “Gods, I don’t think I am going to like you. You’re really weird.” Jinki was not sure if he should feel insulted but let the man continue anyway. “Don’t you know any manners when you meet someone? Want to introduce yourself?”
“Uh Jinki,” an automatic response from the dubbed genius, “My name is Jinki, Lee Jinki, yes Jinki-”
“Okay I get it Lee Jinki,” replied the younger man impatiently, leaving Jinki somewhat distressed, “My name is Key, remember it.”
Jinki nodded, still flabbergasted by the whole situation. He quickly looked to the entrance, noticing the iron door was still closed and then proceeded to look back to this Key person, who was now staring at the walls with slight interest. Jinki figured now or never was the time to ask an obvious question for anyone in his situation.
“How’d you get in here?”
“I’m Key,” came the empty reply as the auburn haired youth inspected the room with what looked like a hint of displeasure, “I open locks of course.”
Jinki was uncertain of whether the man was serious or not and he laughed awkwardly, his defense mechanism failing as it squeaked to a stop when Key directed another prickly glare his way.
“I really don’t think I like you,” repeated Key, gaze now focused on Jinki, “Don’t laugh for my sake when I make blatantly bad jokes.”
“Are you going to kill me?” asked Jinki, really getting the hint that this Key person disliked him, perhaps like that Juls guy-Minho was it? Jinki figured the man could be here for no other reason, like a secret assassin or something, meant to intimidate and kill with that intense glare.
A snort and Jinki cringed with Key laughing in something between mockery and insult. “Why would I do that?”
“Cause you don’t like me?” whimpered Jinki.
“Good point.”
Jinki’s eyes widened, and Key rolled his eyes, crossing his arms once again. “I was just joking you idiot.”
These were definitely not funny jokes, Jinki thought but did not tell Key, afraid to make the boy any more cranky, moody or whatever this attitude was that Jinki could not pinpoint.
“So is this how you treat all your guests?” asked Key, sniffing the air and staring down at Jinki’s blankets, “And do you even try to clean this place?”
Jinki scampered up, rolling up the blankets into their corner, grabbing the one chair in the room and a bottle of muddy water. He offered the bottle to Key, who refused to take it but accepted the offer of the chair instead, lounging back and forth, rocking the wooden piece of furniture. “Well now I can see why your stuff isn’t clean,” remarked Key, looking at the murky water, a comment Jinki chose to ignore because he was not sure whether it was a joke or not.
Unsure of what to do, Jinki sat himself on the floor and looked at Key, the walls, the ceiling, shifting his gaze to every place possible. He could tell that Key was telling the truth about not hurting him, simply because of how disinterested the young man seemed, but Jinki was too afraid to ask Key why the he was here at all in the first place. Key however, seemed to be a mind reader and got straight to the point that Jinki wanted.
“So Taemin,” commented Key, his gaze somewhat softened but still strong.
It was a name that made Jinki freeze, and he shyly stopped to stare at his feet rotating them laterally then medially.
“Yah are you ignoring me?” demanded Key, and Jinki wanted to say no, but it was quite apparent that was exactly what he was doing. Key let out an annoyed huff and continued speaking anyway. “Do you want to see him again?”
Jinki responded this time, giving Key an eager but hesitant gaze. “Is Taemin all right? Did you see him?”
“That isn’t an answer to my question.”
Jinki winced at the frank statement, realizing he was dealing with someone very meticulous. “I can’t see him again…”
“I did not ask if you can or cannot,” remarked Key in a slightly annoyed tone, impatient with the sidetracked responses, “I asked if you want to see him? Of course I can just go on and tell Taeminnie that this Lee Jinki fellow doesn’t seem to care all that mu-”
“I want to see him!” Jinki could not stop the words as they were propelled out of his throat and he held both his hands over his mouth, seconds too late. Since the truth was already out, Jinki allowed his hands to drop, directing his feelings of guilt to the floor, looking down and away from Key. “I want to see him. It’s just I can’t risk it again.”
Jinki looked at his hands, tracing the outline of his nails with his vision, brushing away some sand. It was a defensive mechanism and Key was not blind to this. The younger man softened, his eyes evoking a sense of comfort and his strong gait loosening as he approached Jinki. Key crouched before Jinki, who was strangely disturbed by the gentle expression of the confident male but calmed as well.
“You’re the type who always lets yourself get hurt aren’t you?” stated Key, running a hand with bony fingers through Jinki’s dark brown hair. Jinki leaned into the warm touch, only comprehending then how much he missed someone reaching out to him. He had lost Jonghyun and never had Taemin, so there was no one left for him. He had been alone for what felt like eternity these past few days.
“Taemin, he wants to see you,” stated Key in a matter-of-fact manner, still petting Jinki due to the man’s infantile behavior, “I’m here because if you don’t go out there, Taemin might come over to this side alone.”
The breath hitched in Jinki’s lungs and he looked towards Key with confused eyes. So many questions ran through his head: how could Taemin get to this side, why would he risk it, didn’t he know he could die? Jonghyun already was prepared to kill the boy once. Jinki froze and took in a deep swallow. There was really only one thing that mattered, and Jinki knew he had to stop Taemin.
Grasping onto Key’s bare arms, Jinki looked at the man with determination. “Let me go find him.”
Key smiled, withdrawing from Jinki and stepping back with his hands on his hips. “I like this side of you a lot better,” commented Key and he walked towards the door, turning the knob with its heavy lock giving way at just one pull. Jinki watched, completely baffled at how easily the iron door opened, no resistance whatsoever.
“What you think I was going to kick it to death like you?” Key retorted, only adding to Jinki’s bafflement, “Oh come on, get going before you turn stupid again. I’ll handle things over here till you get back so you better not stay out long. Your friend seems like he might be more difficult to distract than that tall freak.”
Jinki stepped towards the door and takes a single step out, looking to Key who was leaning against the side of the building, a smug smirk on his face. He did not know how Key seemed to be aware of everything, and he knew that he should be suspicious, but Jinki decided to follow his heart over his brain. For some reason, he felt he could trust Key simply from the man’s frank aura, but there was one question that Jinki could not bear to hold onto. “Why are you doing this?”
A solemn smile cracked at the corner of the young man’s lips, and Jinki almost felt sorry for asking. Key however shook it off, finding the best appropriate answer. “Because it’s something that only I can do for this sad place.” Key lifted himself with a kick off the wall, expression changing to irritation directed at Jinki. “Will you get going already? Time isn’t going to wait for you.”
Jinki bowed quickly, too scared to face the consequences of making an annoyed mysterious but impatient boy wait, and ran off to the only place he knew where to go. The sun was harsh yet again, and by the time he reached the structure he was looking for, Jinki was out of breath and sweating. He always had poor stamina, but it was with success that Jinki spotted the person he was looking for. Except Jinki stayed paralyzed in place, uncertain of which urge to follow as they wrack his body all at once, telling him to run away or to run forward.
Weight shifting onto his heels, Jinki knew what urge was winning, the one to run away, to not risk screwing anything up again but Jinki halted as he heard the clank of metal, a sound not so foreign to him. Squinting with a hand over his forehead, Jinki could see the sparks flying off the edge of the rock formation from the other side. He could see the boy with red hair making such mechanical noises and finally spotting the coils protracting out of the earth, Jinki’s eyes widened, understanding what Key meant.
Clambering up the rock formation on his side, Jinki’s observations were correct; Taemin was working with tools quite similar to his, building a bridge, already connecting the sides closer by one meter. The boy remained unaware of his presence, focused on building the object before him and Jinki was unable to say anything, completely in awe and shock.
Taemin worked with a very detailed hand, perhaps a bit slower than his but far more focused, and Jinki had never met anyone who had the same skills as him, albeit admittedly Jinki had met few people in his lifetime. His gaze worked up from those pale skinny hands, Jinki noting the boy had somehow become impossibly thinner, but his eyes widened when he reached Taemin’s arms and neck, noting the multiple red marks.
Jinki touched his own neck in disbelief, not wanting to acknowledge anything of the same magnitude occurring to him had been cast down on Taemin. Instantly his thoughts fluttered towards the man with dark eyes, tall and overpowering in stature, yet oddly enough, Jinki did not feel fearful. Instead he felt a burning in his stomach and clenched his shaking fist. Jinki was angry at this person, and he could not explain exactly why.
These feeling of rage subsided in mere seconds when Jinki looked upwards, directing his gaze towards the young man’s downcast blue eyes, bloodshot and tired. He had been moping for so long, despising his own life and Jinki felt ashamed. Not even two minutes in and Jinki could tell Taemin had been much worse off than him.
“T-Taemin?”
The youth across the gap stopped his frantic work, expression of clear doubt, doubt in his own sense of hearing.
Jinki repeated the name again in a more assured and softer tone, “Taemin.”
It appeared to work, and the pair of blue eyes were directed his way, a smile of relief flooding the youth’s face. Jinki felt the foreign feeling swell in his chest again, an overbearing warmth that he thought he had long lost. Taemin put down his tools, wiping away some sweat from his temples.
“Hyung,” breathed Taemin, looking as if he wanted to tear, “I thought you would never come back. I was going to look for you.”
Jinki swallowed, unable to tell Taemin that he initially had no plans to look for the boy. Taemin did not notice Jinki’s discomfort and let his naïve words spill forth.
“We can cross over this peak,” stated the boy, revealing his grand plans to Jinki, “We can run away. I mean everyone else stays at the battlefield anyway. They won’t notice if two people are gone-” “Taemin.” “-We can forget this stupid crevice and this stupid infinite war-” “Taemin!” “-It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks because it doesn’t affect us anyway-” “Taemin!”
The awkward teenager silenced, slightly rushed for breath and his gaze confused yet expectant. It hurt Jinki, an unbearable hollowness in his chest threatening to swallow him whole. He knew exactly what Taemin wanted, it was unbelievably clear, but it was merely a dream. Jinki began to just realize he was dealing with the dreams and hopes of a child.
“Taemin, I want to,” explained Jinki, bitterness lingering on his tongue, “But we can’t.” Jinki averted his eyesight, struggling to keep contact with the upset expression of his companion. “We just can’t. We can’t leave our people behind like that-” “Please don’t talk like this-” Jinki bit his bottom lip, ignoring Taemin’s protests.
“We have a responsibility-”
“Stop talking like Minho hyung please…”
“How can we abandon those who we owe so much to?”
“Jinki hyung not you too-”
“It’s being immature-”
“Shut up!”
Jinki halted his rambling speech at the angry outburst and looked forward, a clenching tight behind his ribcage. Taemin was flush, shaking and clearly upset, fists wrung at his side as he stood up.
“Just shut up,” repeated Taemin, glaring angrily at Jinki, impossibly more intimidating than Key, “Why are all you adults like this? Why can’t you see the simple logic? Why do you guys make everything so complicated?” Jinki had no answer to these questions, legs quivering, threatening to send his body falling to the ground.
“None of us want to fight, yet that is all we do every day,” cried the frail body of the boy, shaking uncontrollably, “We want to move on and live a life that is more than just fighting, but then we still focus on the war. And for sure, no one wants to die, yet all we do is kill each other.”
The voice trembled, and Taemin crouched towards the ground, continuing his frantic work on the bridge. “And I know we were happy being together,” whispered the anxiety ridden teenager, “So even if you aren’t going to make it happen, I will.”
“Forget me.”
Taemin raised his head, eyes round with disbelief, but it was the only quick solution Jinki could think of, his mouth rushing out the words faster than his brain could compute.
“We weren’t ever supposed to meet in the first place,” stated Jinki hurriedly, looking Taemin directly in the eye, hoping the boy would buy his act. “If we never met in the first place, we wouldn’t have to feel like this, and then we wouldn’t have to runaway. So Taemin it’s really easy, just forget me.”
The words stung his own ears, but Jinki persisted in a soft insistent tone. “Forget me.”
“I’ll do it if you forget me. I’ll do it if you forget me too.” The boy’s voice was immediately challenging, shaky but intimidating.
Jinki could barely allow the words to leave his own mouth, nearly choking on them, but he knew he could not let Taemin win because this was not merely a game between two desperate males; it was a lesson in reality.
“I will.” His declaration was far more hitched than intended, and Jinki realized he could not last. He turned a blind eye to Taemin, skidding down the rock formation, ignoring the cries of the boy from the other side as Jinki ran away, ignoring the cries from within him. It scared him shitless because at that moment he knew he would have done it, Jinki would have ran away with Taemin, abandoning his entire life, abandoning Jonghyun, abandoning every principle and value that had lay engrained in his mind.
His legs moved at a steady pace and Jinki was uncertain just when he reached the small asylum of a building he had always lived in, but all Jinki knew was that he crumpled to the floor, quivering as he folded in on himself. He could hear a voice, but it made no sense as the words melded into one another, and Jinki covered his ears, closing his eyes and escaping the only way he knew how.
Goodnight.
A lifeless doll day after day, the genius dubbed youth sat in his corner, working in repetitive cycles, repairing everything he needed to before shutting down in the afternoon, collapsing on the floor. Jonghyun came back often now, the single witness to Jinki’s breakdown full of spasms and withdrawal. A million apologizes spilled from his lips as Jonghyun held the man with dead eyes close to him, but Jinki could barely feel the warmth penetrate his skin as his senses felt dulled, his will almost nonexistent.
Jonghyun sighed, frustration and hopelessness present, and Jinki knew how he wanted to respond. He wanted to tell his best friend that everything was solved, that he was triumphant in cutting ties from his careless behavior, that everything could go back to the way it was, but Jinki’s body had betrayed him, barely functioning for him to even move. It was a slump, a slump even worse than before. Jinki briefly wondered if his emotions had merely given up on him for failing so many times.
So when Jonghyun left again, rather reluctantly, Jinki closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He had nothing better to do anyway.
“This is what you do after I send you out there?” A mocking nasal tone. “Fuck, this is why I don’t like people like you, taking every little damn detail to heart. Wake up will you?”
Jinki ignored the familiar voice, covering his ears and shutting his eyes even harder. This guy started it all anyway, the downward spiral. The noise was reduced to a mere buzz but Jinki flinched as he felt his body being kicked repeatedly. Perhaps if he did not respond, the person would just go away, but such a thought was derailed as Jinki felt his hands being forcefully removed from his head.
“Do you want Jonghyun to die?” The voice hissed in his ear, almost pleading, “Fuck just wake up already.”
His body was already way ahead of him and Jinki rose to his knees, looking at Key, the man clad in an entirely different outfit with a light blue jacket and white t-shirt. His hair was a striking black colour, cut at a diagonal with red streaks, but Jinki had little time to think about how the man changed so quickly within a week, more focused on what Key had to say.
“What do you mean die?” Jinki asked through a whisper, his voice unused for days now.
Key sighed, a mixture of relief and fuck took you long enough.
“You have to bring Jonghyun back here now,” explained Key, his panicked mood unnerving Jinki, “That is, if you ever want to see him again as the Kim Jonghyun you know.”
His heart was pounding, and Jinki did not understand what Key was implying, but he knew the young man’s words were probably right, just like they were about Taemin.
Jinki’s determination kicked in, adrenaline coursing through his body, the feelings of exhaustion receding in the background. That’s the way his body always worked, never functioning for himself but moving when others needed it. His black eyes looked to the locked iron door and back to Key.
“Let me go,” stated Jinki, more of a command than a request. Instead of irking Key as he thought it would, the boy gave a smile that was sad around the edges, cynical but pleased.
“You’re the type that does anything for your friends,” Key commented after a bitter laugh as he walked towards the door, grasping the handle with his hand. “But you have to remember to be selfish once in a while. Being so selfless is going to end up hurting those friends, and just pissing them off even more.”
Jinki blinked as he followed Key who released the latch on the door with ease once again. Before running off however, Jinki looked back to the youth who was looking at him with slumped shoulders and a melancholic expression.
“Will you be okay?” The young genius asked, worry written all over his face.
Key snorted, crossing his arms and directing another one of the classic prickly glares Jinki’s way, who decided to smile as far as his numb lips would let him.
“I told you that you’ll just piss your friends off.”
Before Jinki had a moment to understand the implications of Key’s words, he was pushed and urged forward, his legs taking off beneath him. He gave a hasty farewell to the youth as he ran forward awkwardly with his weak body, legs bending at the oddest angles possible. Key’s body was seemingly becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. But despite the relatively good sendoff, Jinki could feel the blood in his flesh rush, the fear creep alongside him.
He was running towards the place where the machines he invented were used to kill, he was running to the place where no hope could be found. Jinki knew Key’s words foreshadowed something, but he had been too hurried to question it. Something bad was going to happen at the frontlines, and of all the people Jinki could save, it would be Jonghyun. He could not risk exposing himself to anyone else, a risk to his concealment, and Jinki knew that but it did not stop the twisted feeling of guilt from coiling in his stomach.
He was dubbed a savior by his people, yet really, he could save no one. Jinki swallowed the bitterness in his throat and swung his jacket over his head, a pathetic attempt to hide his identity from possible encounters.
It was a blind guess to walk towards the right, but Jinki could see the crevice in sight, knowing walking around it would lead to something. And Jinki’s hypothesis was correct as he scrunched his nose, keeling over at the rancid smell in the air. It took everything in his will not to puke as he stepped forward, spotting hundreds of forms covered by blankets. Then the smell of decay became stronger and Jinki could resist no longer, emptying the contents of his stomach to the dirt floor, eventually dry heaving as his body had little else to offer.
Jinki had found a mass provisional graveyard.
The bodies of his people, the people he had never known personally, with blood seeping through white blankets, blankets that hid their horrid appearance but could not hide the strong scent in the air signifying their undignified death. These people had not even been spared the option to rest their bodies beneath the earth, left to rot in the heat of the blazing sun. Jinki felt his insides twist and turn into tiny knots, noticing the attempts to bury them with piles of unearthed ground long forgotten, likely too much effort to continue during the war.
It was with much morbid curiousity and horror that Jinki noticed some of the white blankets peeling away, revealing flies feasting on dead flesh, eyeballs dehydrated and sucked into some mutated form, peeling skin shrunken onto stale bones. He had to leave this place and find Jonghyun, but Jinki could not find the will to rise, heaving again on his hands and knees. Had he been so blind to his own world that he had not known this reality, the reality where people were truly suffering?
He was not sure he could call it luck or not when he heard the sound of footsteps approach him, with Jinki looking up, saliva dribbling down his chin.
“Jinki hyung?”
The handsome youth, sweating from the hot sun, unaffected by the smell of rotting flesh, peered down at Jinki with wide eyes of shock. Jinki scoffed bitterly to himself, ashamed of his position of ignorance, Jonghyun having become accustomed to such a horrible thing on his own. Yet there was little time to dwell on such guilt inducing thoughts as Jinki rose to his feet shakily, grasping onto Jonghyun’s wrist.
“What the hell are you doing here?” spat Jonghyun, trying to shake his arm free of Jinki’s vice grip in a futile effort, “How do you keep getting out? This is the third time now?”
Jinki shook his head, wiping the drool from his lips, trying to breathe through his mouth to reduce the intake of the sour smelling air. “I’m not running away,” explained the awkward youth, pulling Jonghyun back in the direction he came, “I came here to get you.”
Jonghyun spluttered, clearly confused by the whole situation, but it did not matter to Jinki as he pulled the younger man along, wanting to get as far away as possible from this place. Jonghyun would not have it however, resisting strongly until the pair came at a standstill only a few meters along with his arm pulled from Jinki’s grip.
“Can you fucking stop?” The younger man demanded in exasperation, running a hand through styled black hair. “Jinki hyung, can you just tell me what the hell is going on? How the hell are you getting out?” A frustrated groan. “I come here cause some soldier on lookout tells me someone is wandering around the graves, and it’s you of all people. I can’t deal with this anymore all right?” Jonghyun mustered some courage and held the older man’s hands tightly. “Just talk to me straight out okay? We are supposed to be best friends aren’t we?”
The voice was almost pleading and Jinki looked Jonghyun directly in the eyes, shadowed by long wavy locks of dark chestnut hair. In the back of his mind Jinki wanted to be contemptuous, tell the man that best friends don’t fuck but he held back, understanding that he had no right to be angry, that Jonghyun had fought far worse experiences than him.
Still, Jinki knew he could not be straight foward, he could not tell Jonghyun the truth outright, that he suspected something was going to happen on the frontlines. If he did, Jinki knew that Jonghyun’s sense of justice would kick in and that the young hero would stay behind to protect every person he possibly could. Instead Jinki used a method that he knew was underhanded, but he was desperate at this point to just get Jonghyun to comply with him.
“If you don’t come back with me,” muttered Jinki, his attempt at a threatening tone failing as he scrunched his nose from the overwhelming stench of death, “I’ll go to the frontlines.”
It was the only thing of his that Jinki knew had value, his intelligence and body, and thankfully enough Jonghyun seemed to take the bait. The young fighter’s eyes went dark as he dragged Jinki’s arm, pulling him back to the secluded building the genius was supposed to be permanently housed in, uttering under his breath, “I am going to get a better fucking lock on that door.”
When they reached their destination, Jinki noted that Key was nowhere in sight, yet that thought has little time to receive attention as Jinki was thrust into the square room by a pair of strong arms. The young man had barely enough time to grasp the handle of the door as Jonghyun nearly shut it in on him. Pulling back on his feet, using all his weight and sheer force to open the door wide, Jinki somehow managed to overpower the younger man, with Jonghyun clumsily stumbling into the room.
Taking advantage of this, Jinki pushed his friend further in, and shut the iron door behind his back, its resounding click echoing off the walls of the room. Jinki however was unable to notice the hand that quickly made its way around his neck, and Jinki spluttered as Jonghyun pinned him to the door, clearly annoyed and confused.
“What is wrong with you?” growled the younger man, frustration burning in his eyes, “You have fucking mood swings like some menopausal woman. First you’re happy, then you’re a pushover, then you basically die on me and now you’re just insane. I’ve been trying so hard to hide everything from those the heads cause I know they scare you. I’ve been trying so hard to keep things under control, but hyung-” The voice squeaks at the plead. “I can’t help you if I don’t know why you are acting like this.”
Holding Jonghyun’s fingers around his neck, Jinki wheezed and the younger man loosened his grip. Jinki slid from his toes back down to his heels, coughing lightly albeit the strong hand still over his neck. He could feel the bruises forming on his skin, but Jinki knew he could not back down because doing so would risk losing Jonghyun. Jinki shook his head, insistently looking at Jonghyun as he explained slowly, “I just need you to stay here.”
As expected, this reply was insufficient and Jinki winced as the grip around his neck tightened again with him closing one eye, struggling to reach for Jonghyun’s wrist. The younger man was far more distraught and Jonghyun trembled, averting his gaze from Jinki, voice quivering with a combination of anger and fear.
“Why are you doing this hyung?” Jonghyun asked, his tone signifying just how lost he was, “You don’t make sense anymore. I thought we were best friends for Gods sakes. I can’t even trust you right now-”
Jinki gasped as his esophagus was pressed against steadily, Jonghyun becoming too far rattled with emotions to be aware of his friend’s condition. Blindly with the instinct of survival, Jinki lashed out, swinging his arms; a fist colliding with the cheekbone of the younger man. Jonghyun held his cheek, recoiling with a groan, and Jinki was at a loss of breath, lungs burning from the sudden lack of oxygen.
Rubbing his neck, Jinki’s black eyes widened, just dodging the swing of a fist directed his way, rolling to the ground. Jonghyun was quick to this and pounced on him, Jinki reaching a hand out quickly to stop a fist directed at his face. The pressure of the fist caused his elbow to shake as it was pinned against the floor and Jinki looked up to Jonghyun’s eyes, filled with so much sadness that nearly crumbled any resistance he had.
“Hyung? Why does it have to be like this?” The voice faltered and Jinki came to a stark realization, a familiar feeling that he was dealing with someone younger than him, playing with the emotions of an adolescent that could not comprehend the situation. Jinki was the one at fault for this, sending his friends on the path to an emotional burnout. His hand left, and Jinki shut his eyes as he felt the rush of air as Jonghyun’s fist hurtled towards his face.
A dull thud and Jinki grunted, heat rushing to his injured cheek, swelling painfully.
There was silence, Jinki still holding himself in pain and Jonghyun breathing heavily, kneeling above the older man. Neither of them moved nor spoke, too afraid of the chain of reactions that could occur. It was hitting rock bottom, a hopeless situation with no way out.
What got the two youths to shift however was the vibration under their feet, increasing to a violent quake. The tools fell off the walls one by one and Jinki froze as Jonghyun crawled over him, shielding his body from any possible threat. A noise sounded that Jinki could only relate to as being similar to a gunshot, amplitudes louder. Soon everything was plummeting to the floor, metal scraping the ground, and Jinki grasped Jonghyun’s clothes tightly, fright filling him inside out.
It was over within seconds but felt like an eternity to Jinki as he buried his face into Jonghyun’s collarbone, trying to be distracted by the smell of dirt and sweat, ignoring the calamity around him. Jinki only opened his eyes when the shaking stopped, the ground finally becoming still as it was before. Jonghyun shuffled off of him, uninjured thankfully enough, and the two looked around the room, a complete and utter mess of scattered tools, a broken table and spilled scraps of garbage and metal.
“What happened?” Was the question that Jonghyun asked, the one also on Jinki’s mind.
“The frontlines,” Jinki breathed, the slow realization of Key’s warning. It was a careless comment Jinki learned as Jonghyun heard him, the young hero with eyes of resolve rising to his feet and heading straight towards the locked door with an intricate looking silver key. Jinki scrambled up to his feet, reaching out to stop Jonghyun when he was only sent flying back to the floor, a hammer getting caught in between his feet. Helplessly, Jinki watched Jonghyun leave, the door clicking shut just as Jinki rushed towards it.
Jinki had no idea what was going on outside. He had to go back out and get Jonghyun back, but it was a futile struggle as Jinki tugged at the locked door, the iron gate not budging a centimeter for him. Then panic set in as the images flashed through his mind, those of dead decaying bodies, blood seeping through pristine sheets. When Key warned him, had he been talking about Jonghyun becoming one of those corpses?
Jinki pounded at the door calling Key’s name, demanding the boy open it. Each call fell upon empty air and his begging would go unanswered. Jinki wondered if something happened to the sharp-eyed boy, if Key was still alive. And soon thoughts of a blue eyed boy with a bright smile flickered across his mind, allowing more panic to be produced. Jinki fell to his knees, a moment of recognition, finding out just how hopeless he was, unable to go out and save his loved ones, to keep that fragile bond alive.
There was a reason he was locked up, and it was not because he had value, it was because Jinki could not help anyone; he was fucking pathetic.
-----
Tried the center table thing. I like it. :)
Pre-warning for next part. More death.
Genre: Drama/AU
Rating: R
Pairing: Jongyu and Ontae
Summary: They were too similar, and they were too different. He was stuck between two choices even though the answer should have been obvious.
A/N: 7243 words, mature language, death.
Previous: Part 1
If there was a choice, Jinki would have ignored his consciousness pulling at the edges of his mind, coaxing him to awaken. He had long overslept, ignoring the several times his body had told him to get up, but this one time, his consciousness won as Jinki’s stomach growled pathetically. Of course it would be his appetite that would defeat his sheer desire to deny his existence and Jinki opened his eyes slowly.
Ready to raise a hand to rub the crust from his eyes, Jinki squeaked, instead rolling onto his side and holding himself tightly. His limbs were heavy, aching from the previous night, the night that Jinki wanted to keep at the back of his mind. His body had other plans though and would not allow him to forget. It took several attempts before Jinki could get himself to sit up with a hoarse groan. Even better, Jinki coughed, fingering his sore throat, voice long gone from overuse.
Jinki looked around and Jonghyun was nowhere to be found, probably back in the frontlines. He was not sure how long they had done it; all Jinki knew was that it had definitely gone into the morning hours, ending with Jonghyun sobbing into his chest, mouthing apologies to an unresponsive Jinki, each one burning into his skin. A scoff, and Jinki rubbed a hand over his head in revulsion. He could smell it in the room, the putrid smell of sex, sweat and secretions, quite unlike the flowery scent of afterglow he had always imagined.
But it was a small price to pay, giving the only thing he could give to Jonghyun. It was a small price, and Jinki knew he owed so much more as he looked to the wooden table of the room, a change of clothes, water and food all laid out; an act of consideration much undeserved. Guilt prickled his insides, sadly becoming a rather common feeling, and Jinki stumbled upwards, his exposed legs barely supporting him as he made his way to the table.
It was the first thing he could think of doing, and Jinki opened the water bottle, trickling its contents into a tissue conveniently placed by the meager meal of rice and pork. Falling with his knees to the concrete floor, Jinki reached back till the wet paper touched his skin, holding back chokes as he scrubbed his backside, scrubbing the ruddy hole that smelt putrid. He wanted to clean it, he wanted the water to get rid of it, get rid of the memory, but it was a hopeless thought.
Jinki stopped, burying the tissue beneath heaps of garbage in a bin that Jonghyun emptied for him. He did not want his friend to spot it; Jinki did not want Jonghyun to know that he regretted it.
There was nothing left to do but continue on like nothing had happened, and Jinki proceeded to the tasks that his body, although aching, knew automatically to do: roll up the sheets, wash his face and hands, change into given clothes, eat food, and start to fix things. Jinki headed towards the door where two burlap sacks rested, fallen behind but easy enough work to catch up on. He reached for their grips, suddenly halting as the lock came into Jinki’s eyesight.
It was an impulse, his hand reaching out to the doorknob but Jinki was able to stop himself just short of the metal grip. The thoughts flooded his head, a scarily tall figure with the intent to kill, a best friend lost, but mostly about a boy with blue eyes, bright red hair and the most angelic smile. Still, he could not do it; Jinki could not attempt to open the door, remembering Jonghyun and the perplexing look of utter betrayal and confusion. A grunt and Jinki turned away, dragging the two bags of gnarled metal behind him to his work corner.
He believed that fixing these damaged weapons would distract him, screwing in one bolt after another, grabbing the thingamadoo to bend the curved plates flat, but the images flashed through his eyes and the sounds accompanied, made up of quacks and laughs. Jinki leaned back in his chair and released a long sigh. He was the acclaimed genius, so why could he not think logically, why could he not think of Taemin strictly as the enemy? Maybe it was because the logic was as simple as Taemin had explained; they wanted to see each other.
Jinki shook his head, hammering the metal back into place, hammering the foreign thoughts away from his mind. He had only known the boy for a couple of hours, so why did it matter? Jinki screwed in another bolt, thoughts focused on the weapon of course, except he wondered, how could their eyes be so blue and why was Taemin so funny? No, the gun’s balance was obviously wrong, with the crack at the head. Jinki just needed to weld it together with the torch, although he did not feel foolish joking with the red-haired man like he did with Jonghyun, it was just so natural in comparison.
A frustrated cry and Jinki ran his hands through his hair, forehead collapsing on the edge of his desk. What was wrong with him, why could he just not focus? He looked at the gun, even more bent out of shape than when Jinki first received it.
It was going to be a long day.
These long days turned into a week as Jinki struggled, the most miserable he had ever felt since he could remember. He could barely fix anything to a suitable shape in hours, the task usually only taking him minutes per weapon. Jinki was falling behind, only fixing two bagfuls when he had received five. The men with short beards would talk to him sooner or later for sure, and Jinki dreaded the thought, their old wrinkly faces lecturing him with beady eyes and solemn frowns, making him feel the pressures of supporting their community.
But worst, the absolute worst of all was the cold empty feeling that made a space behind Jinki’s ribcage. The averted gaze from Jonghyun, the cold shoulders where the man would only come to make sure Jinki was alive with a beating heart, leaving behind rations of water and food. Jonghyun had not talked to him at all since that night, and every night since then Jinki had slept alone, talked to the walls in jest. He was not sure where Jonghyun went at night but he tried not to think about it because Jinki knew instantly where his thoughts went, that Jonghyun was touching women with the body, the body that had taken his own.
Jinki huddled under the blankets, alone again for the seventh night. Jonghyun had come just before, actually looking at Jinki for a short period before leaving, but the older man did not have the courage to reach out to his friend. Jinki could not tell Jonghyun the words he wanted to say, that he was sorry and everything could go back to normal. He could not tell Jonghyun this message because Jinki could not lie to his friend; he still thought about Taemin despite all his attempts to do otherwise.
It frightened him that he was becoming so attached to a connection that had lasted so short a time, and Jinki worried that the saying he read about was not true, the one that stated ‘time healed all wounds.’ So long had past and Jinki could still feel it, the feeling of impending doom and the empty pain that forever ached in his chest. A small part of him wished he could be swallowed into a deep hole, infinitely deep like the crevice, but Jinki knew that wish would go unfulfilled. The closest solace he ever had, keeping him from reaching a point of insanity was sleep, a long undisturbed sleep that seemed to last longer and longer every passing day.
Therefore, feeling a persistent nudge at his backside, Jinki’s eyebrows furrowed. It was barely morning according to his internal clock and he could certainly sleep longer and there was no way it was Jonghyun, unless- Jinki opened his eyes, turning around, hoping to see friendly black eyes and a sideways smirk. Instead his gaze was met with a sharp unyielding darkened glare, thin lips twisted into an annoyed frown.
Jinki yelped, backing away from the coldest eyes he had ever seen, a scary first impression. The young man in front of him snorted, a nasal quality to his voice.
“Melodramatic aren’t you?” said the now standing figure, arms crossed and hip arched in a feminine manner.
Scanning the man up and down, Jinki was left confused as he saw a combination of features. Light auburn hair streaked with bands of yellow and green, sharp black eyes, broad shoulders on a thin frame, pale skin, and perhaps slightly less than an inch taller than Jinki himself. The standing youth was clad in a long blue tank with an underlying black one, and Jinki struggled to find the right words,
“You-you look like both,” stuttered Jinki through a mixture of surprise and shock, uncertain of whether or not it was necessary to be on guard.
The younger man arched a brow and stared down at Jinki. “Both?”
“Like a Juls and a Yous,” explained Jinki, jaw still slack in disbelief, “But that can’t be possible.”
“Well then it isn’t possible,” snapped the young man, causing Jinki to flinch as he was approached and scrambled back with his palms into a wall, “Gods, I don’t think I am going to like you. You’re really weird.” Jinki was not sure if he should feel insulted but let the man continue anyway. “Don’t you know any manners when you meet someone? Want to introduce yourself?”
“Uh Jinki,” an automatic response from the dubbed genius, “My name is Jinki, Lee Jinki, yes Jinki-”
“Okay I get it Lee Jinki,” replied the younger man impatiently, leaving Jinki somewhat distressed, “My name is Key, remember it.”
Jinki nodded, still flabbergasted by the whole situation. He quickly looked to the entrance, noticing the iron door was still closed and then proceeded to look back to this Key person, who was now staring at the walls with slight interest. Jinki figured now or never was the time to ask an obvious question for anyone in his situation.
“How’d you get in here?”
“I’m Key,” came the empty reply as the auburn haired youth inspected the room with what looked like a hint of displeasure, “I open locks of course.”
Jinki was uncertain of whether the man was serious or not and he laughed awkwardly, his defense mechanism failing as it squeaked to a stop when Key directed another prickly glare his way.
“I really don’t think I like you,” repeated Key, gaze now focused on Jinki, “Don’t laugh for my sake when I make blatantly bad jokes.”
“Are you going to kill me?” asked Jinki, really getting the hint that this Key person disliked him, perhaps like that Juls guy-Minho was it? Jinki figured the man could be here for no other reason, like a secret assassin or something, meant to intimidate and kill with that intense glare.
A snort and Jinki cringed with Key laughing in something between mockery and insult. “Why would I do that?”
“Cause you don’t like me?” whimpered Jinki.
“Good point.”
Jinki’s eyes widened, and Key rolled his eyes, crossing his arms once again. “I was just joking you idiot.”
These were definitely not funny jokes, Jinki thought but did not tell Key, afraid to make the boy any more cranky, moody or whatever this attitude was that Jinki could not pinpoint.
“So is this how you treat all your guests?” asked Key, sniffing the air and staring down at Jinki’s blankets, “And do you even try to clean this place?”
Jinki scampered up, rolling up the blankets into their corner, grabbing the one chair in the room and a bottle of muddy water. He offered the bottle to Key, who refused to take it but accepted the offer of the chair instead, lounging back and forth, rocking the wooden piece of furniture. “Well now I can see why your stuff isn’t clean,” remarked Key, looking at the murky water, a comment Jinki chose to ignore because he was not sure whether it was a joke or not.
Unsure of what to do, Jinki sat himself on the floor and looked at Key, the walls, the ceiling, shifting his gaze to every place possible. He could tell that Key was telling the truth about not hurting him, simply because of how disinterested the young man seemed, but Jinki was too afraid to ask Key why the he was here at all in the first place. Key however, seemed to be a mind reader and got straight to the point that Jinki wanted.
“So Taemin,” commented Key, his gaze somewhat softened but still strong.
It was a name that made Jinki freeze, and he shyly stopped to stare at his feet rotating them laterally then medially.
“Yah are you ignoring me?” demanded Key, and Jinki wanted to say no, but it was quite apparent that was exactly what he was doing. Key let out an annoyed huff and continued speaking anyway. “Do you want to see him again?”
Jinki responded this time, giving Key an eager but hesitant gaze. “Is Taemin all right? Did you see him?”
“That isn’t an answer to my question.”
Jinki winced at the frank statement, realizing he was dealing with someone very meticulous. “I can’t see him again…”
“I did not ask if you can or cannot,” remarked Key in a slightly annoyed tone, impatient with the sidetracked responses, “I asked if you want to see him? Of course I can just go on and tell Taeminnie that this Lee Jinki fellow doesn’t seem to care all that mu-”
“I want to see him!” Jinki could not stop the words as they were propelled out of his throat and he held both his hands over his mouth, seconds too late. Since the truth was already out, Jinki allowed his hands to drop, directing his feelings of guilt to the floor, looking down and away from Key. “I want to see him. It’s just I can’t risk it again.”
Jinki looked at his hands, tracing the outline of his nails with his vision, brushing away some sand. It was a defensive mechanism and Key was not blind to this. The younger man softened, his eyes evoking a sense of comfort and his strong gait loosening as he approached Jinki. Key crouched before Jinki, who was strangely disturbed by the gentle expression of the confident male but calmed as well.
“You’re the type who always lets yourself get hurt aren’t you?” stated Key, running a hand with bony fingers through Jinki’s dark brown hair. Jinki leaned into the warm touch, only comprehending then how much he missed someone reaching out to him. He had lost Jonghyun and never had Taemin, so there was no one left for him. He had been alone for what felt like eternity these past few days.
“Taemin, he wants to see you,” stated Key in a matter-of-fact manner, still petting Jinki due to the man’s infantile behavior, “I’m here because if you don’t go out there, Taemin might come over to this side alone.”
The breath hitched in Jinki’s lungs and he looked towards Key with confused eyes. So many questions ran through his head: how could Taemin get to this side, why would he risk it, didn’t he know he could die? Jonghyun already was prepared to kill the boy once. Jinki froze and took in a deep swallow. There was really only one thing that mattered, and Jinki knew he had to stop Taemin.
Grasping onto Key’s bare arms, Jinki looked at the man with determination. “Let me go find him.”
Key smiled, withdrawing from Jinki and stepping back with his hands on his hips. “I like this side of you a lot better,” commented Key and he walked towards the door, turning the knob with its heavy lock giving way at just one pull. Jinki watched, completely baffled at how easily the iron door opened, no resistance whatsoever.
“What you think I was going to kick it to death like you?” Key retorted, only adding to Jinki’s bafflement, “Oh come on, get going before you turn stupid again. I’ll handle things over here till you get back so you better not stay out long. Your friend seems like he might be more difficult to distract than that tall freak.”
Jinki stepped towards the door and takes a single step out, looking to Key who was leaning against the side of the building, a smug smirk on his face. He did not know how Key seemed to be aware of everything, and he knew that he should be suspicious, but Jinki decided to follow his heart over his brain. For some reason, he felt he could trust Key simply from the man’s frank aura, but there was one question that Jinki could not bear to hold onto. “Why are you doing this?”
A solemn smile cracked at the corner of the young man’s lips, and Jinki almost felt sorry for asking. Key however shook it off, finding the best appropriate answer. “Because it’s something that only I can do for this sad place.” Key lifted himself with a kick off the wall, expression changing to irritation directed at Jinki. “Will you get going already? Time isn’t going to wait for you.”
Jinki bowed quickly, too scared to face the consequences of making an annoyed mysterious but impatient boy wait, and ran off to the only place he knew where to go. The sun was harsh yet again, and by the time he reached the structure he was looking for, Jinki was out of breath and sweating. He always had poor stamina, but it was with success that Jinki spotted the person he was looking for. Except Jinki stayed paralyzed in place, uncertain of which urge to follow as they wrack his body all at once, telling him to run away or to run forward.
Weight shifting onto his heels, Jinki knew what urge was winning, the one to run away, to not risk screwing anything up again but Jinki halted as he heard the clank of metal, a sound not so foreign to him. Squinting with a hand over his forehead, Jinki could see the sparks flying off the edge of the rock formation from the other side. He could see the boy with red hair making such mechanical noises and finally spotting the coils protracting out of the earth, Jinki’s eyes widened, understanding what Key meant.
Clambering up the rock formation on his side, Jinki’s observations were correct; Taemin was working with tools quite similar to his, building a bridge, already connecting the sides closer by one meter. The boy remained unaware of his presence, focused on building the object before him and Jinki was unable to say anything, completely in awe and shock.
Taemin worked with a very detailed hand, perhaps a bit slower than his but far more focused, and Jinki had never met anyone who had the same skills as him, albeit admittedly Jinki had met few people in his lifetime. His gaze worked up from those pale skinny hands, Jinki noting the boy had somehow become impossibly thinner, but his eyes widened when he reached Taemin’s arms and neck, noting the multiple red marks.
Jinki touched his own neck in disbelief, not wanting to acknowledge anything of the same magnitude occurring to him had been cast down on Taemin. Instantly his thoughts fluttered towards the man with dark eyes, tall and overpowering in stature, yet oddly enough, Jinki did not feel fearful. Instead he felt a burning in his stomach and clenched his shaking fist. Jinki was angry at this person, and he could not explain exactly why.
These feeling of rage subsided in mere seconds when Jinki looked upwards, directing his gaze towards the young man’s downcast blue eyes, bloodshot and tired. He had been moping for so long, despising his own life and Jinki felt ashamed. Not even two minutes in and Jinki could tell Taemin had been much worse off than him.
“T-Taemin?”
The youth across the gap stopped his frantic work, expression of clear doubt, doubt in his own sense of hearing.
Jinki repeated the name again in a more assured and softer tone, “Taemin.”
It appeared to work, and the pair of blue eyes were directed his way, a smile of relief flooding the youth’s face. Jinki felt the foreign feeling swell in his chest again, an overbearing warmth that he thought he had long lost. Taemin put down his tools, wiping away some sweat from his temples.
“Hyung,” breathed Taemin, looking as if he wanted to tear, “I thought you would never come back. I was going to look for you.”
Jinki swallowed, unable to tell Taemin that he initially had no plans to look for the boy. Taemin did not notice Jinki’s discomfort and let his naïve words spill forth.
“We can cross over this peak,” stated the boy, revealing his grand plans to Jinki, “We can run away. I mean everyone else stays at the battlefield anyway. They won’t notice if two people are gone-” “Taemin.” “-We can forget this stupid crevice and this stupid infinite war-” “Taemin!” “-It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks because it doesn’t affect us anyway-” “Taemin!”
The awkward teenager silenced, slightly rushed for breath and his gaze confused yet expectant. It hurt Jinki, an unbearable hollowness in his chest threatening to swallow him whole. He knew exactly what Taemin wanted, it was unbelievably clear, but it was merely a dream. Jinki began to just realize he was dealing with the dreams and hopes of a child.
“Taemin, I want to,” explained Jinki, bitterness lingering on his tongue, “But we can’t.” Jinki averted his eyesight, struggling to keep contact with the upset expression of his companion. “We just can’t. We can’t leave our people behind like that-” “Please don’t talk like this-” Jinki bit his bottom lip, ignoring Taemin’s protests.
“We have a responsibility-”
“Stop talking like Minho hyung please…”
“How can we abandon those who we owe so much to?”
“Jinki hyung not you too-”
“It’s being immature-”
“Shut up!”
Jinki halted his rambling speech at the angry outburst and looked forward, a clenching tight behind his ribcage. Taemin was flush, shaking and clearly upset, fists wrung at his side as he stood up.
“Just shut up,” repeated Taemin, glaring angrily at Jinki, impossibly more intimidating than Key, “Why are all you adults like this? Why can’t you see the simple logic? Why do you guys make everything so complicated?” Jinki had no answer to these questions, legs quivering, threatening to send his body falling to the ground.
“None of us want to fight, yet that is all we do every day,” cried the frail body of the boy, shaking uncontrollably, “We want to move on and live a life that is more than just fighting, but then we still focus on the war. And for sure, no one wants to die, yet all we do is kill each other.”
The voice trembled, and Taemin crouched towards the ground, continuing his frantic work on the bridge. “And I know we were happy being together,” whispered the anxiety ridden teenager, “So even if you aren’t going to make it happen, I will.”
“Forget me.”
Taemin raised his head, eyes round with disbelief, but it was the only quick solution Jinki could think of, his mouth rushing out the words faster than his brain could compute.
“We weren’t ever supposed to meet in the first place,” stated Jinki hurriedly, looking Taemin directly in the eye, hoping the boy would buy his act. “If we never met in the first place, we wouldn’t have to feel like this, and then we wouldn’t have to runaway. So Taemin it’s really easy, just forget me.”
The words stung his own ears, but Jinki persisted in a soft insistent tone. “Forget me.”
“I’ll do it if you forget me. I’ll do it if you forget me too.” The boy’s voice was immediately challenging, shaky but intimidating.
Jinki could barely allow the words to leave his own mouth, nearly choking on them, but he knew he could not let Taemin win because this was not merely a game between two desperate males; it was a lesson in reality.
“I will.” His declaration was far more hitched than intended, and Jinki realized he could not last. He turned a blind eye to Taemin, skidding down the rock formation, ignoring the cries of the boy from the other side as Jinki ran away, ignoring the cries from within him. It scared him shitless because at that moment he knew he would have done it, Jinki would have ran away with Taemin, abandoning his entire life, abandoning Jonghyun, abandoning every principle and value that had lay engrained in his mind.
His legs moved at a steady pace and Jinki was uncertain just when he reached the small asylum of a building he had always lived in, but all Jinki knew was that he crumpled to the floor, quivering as he folded in on himself. He could hear a voice, but it made no sense as the words melded into one another, and Jinki covered his ears, closing his eyes and escaping the only way he knew how.
Goodnight.
A lifeless doll day after day, the genius dubbed youth sat in his corner, working in repetitive cycles, repairing everything he needed to before shutting down in the afternoon, collapsing on the floor. Jonghyun came back often now, the single witness to Jinki’s breakdown full of spasms and withdrawal. A million apologizes spilled from his lips as Jonghyun held the man with dead eyes close to him, but Jinki could barely feel the warmth penetrate his skin as his senses felt dulled, his will almost nonexistent.
Jonghyun sighed, frustration and hopelessness present, and Jinki knew how he wanted to respond. He wanted to tell his best friend that everything was solved, that he was triumphant in cutting ties from his careless behavior, that everything could go back to the way it was, but Jinki’s body had betrayed him, barely functioning for him to even move. It was a slump, a slump even worse than before. Jinki briefly wondered if his emotions had merely given up on him for failing so many times.
So when Jonghyun left again, rather reluctantly, Jinki closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He had nothing better to do anyway.
“This is what you do after I send you out there?” A mocking nasal tone. “Fuck, this is why I don’t like people like you, taking every little damn detail to heart. Wake up will you?”
Jinki ignored the familiar voice, covering his ears and shutting his eyes even harder. This guy started it all anyway, the downward spiral. The noise was reduced to a mere buzz but Jinki flinched as he felt his body being kicked repeatedly. Perhaps if he did not respond, the person would just go away, but such a thought was derailed as Jinki felt his hands being forcefully removed from his head.
“Do you want Jonghyun to die?” The voice hissed in his ear, almost pleading, “Fuck just wake up already.”
His body was already way ahead of him and Jinki rose to his knees, looking at Key, the man clad in an entirely different outfit with a light blue jacket and white t-shirt. His hair was a striking black colour, cut at a diagonal with red streaks, but Jinki had little time to think about how the man changed so quickly within a week, more focused on what Key had to say.
“What do you mean die?” Jinki asked through a whisper, his voice unused for days now.
Key sighed, a mixture of relief and fuck took you long enough.
“You have to bring Jonghyun back here now,” explained Key, his panicked mood unnerving Jinki, “That is, if you ever want to see him again as the Kim Jonghyun you know.”
His heart was pounding, and Jinki did not understand what Key was implying, but he knew the young man’s words were probably right, just like they were about Taemin.
Jinki’s determination kicked in, adrenaline coursing through his body, the feelings of exhaustion receding in the background. That’s the way his body always worked, never functioning for himself but moving when others needed it. His black eyes looked to the locked iron door and back to Key.
“Let me go,” stated Jinki, more of a command than a request. Instead of irking Key as he thought it would, the boy gave a smile that was sad around the edges, cynical but pleased.
“You’re the type that does anything for your friends,” Key commented after a bitter laugh as he walked towards the door, grasping the handle with his hand. “But you have to remember to be selfish once in a while. Being so selfless is going to end up hurting those friends, and just pissing them off even more.”
Jinki blinked as he followed Key who released the latch on the door with ease once again. Before running off however, Jinki looked back to the youth who was looking at him with slumped shoulders and a melancholic expression.
“Will you be okay?” The young genius asked, worry written all over his face.
Key snorted, crossing his arms and directing another one of the classic prickly glares Jinki’s way, who decided to smile as far as his numb lips would let him.
“I told you that you’ll just piss your friends off.”
Before Jinki had a moment to understand the implications of Key’s words, he was pushed and urged forward, his legs taking off beneath him. He gave a hasty farewell to the youth as he ran forward awkwardly with his weak body, legs bending at the oddest angles possible. Key’s body was seemingly becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. But despite the relatively good sendoff, Jinki could feel the blood in his flesh rush, the fear creep alongside him.
He was running towards the place where the machines he invented were used to kill, he was running to the place where no hope could be found. Jinki knew Key’s words foreshadowed something, but he had been too hurried to question it. Something bad was going to happen at the frontlines, and of all the people Jinki could save, it would be Jonghyun. He could not risk exposing himself to anyone else, a risk to his concealment, and Jinki knew that but it did not stop the twisted feeling of guilt from coiling in his stomach.
He was dubbed a savior by his people, yet really, he could save no one. Jinki swallowed the bitterness in his throat and swung his jacket over his head, a pathetic attempt to hide his identity from possible encounters.
It was a blind guess to walk towards the right, but Jinki could see the crevice in sight, knowing walking around it would lead to something. And Jinki’s hypothesis was correct as he scrunched his nose, keeling over at the rancid smell in the air. It took everything in his will not to puke as he stepped forward, spotting hundreds of forms covered by blankets. Then the smell of decay became stronger and Jinki could resist no longer, emptying the contents of his stomach to the dirt floor, eventually dry heaving as his body had little else to offer.
Jinki had found a mass provisional graveyard.
The bodies of his people, the people he had never known personally, with blood seeping through white blankets, blankets that hid their horrid appearance but could not hide the strong scent in the air signifying their undignified death. These people had not even been spared the option to rest their bodies beneath the earth, left to rot in the heat of the blazing sun. Jinki felt his insides twist and turn into tiny knots, noticing the attempts to bury them with piles of unearthed ground long forgotten, likely too much effort to continue during the war.
It was with much morbid curiousity and horror that Jinki noticed some of the white blankets peeling away, revealing flies feasting on dead flesh, eyeballs dehydrated and sucked into some mutated form, peeling skin shrunken onto stale bones. He had to leave this place and find Jonghyun, but Jinki could not find the will to rise, heaving again on his hands and knees. Had he been so blind to his own world that he had not known this reality, the reality where people were truly suffering?
He was not sure he could call it luck or not when he heard the sound of footsteps approach him, with Jinki looking up, saliva dribbling down his chin.
“Jinki hyung?”
The handsome youth, sweating from the hot sun, unaffected by the smell of rotting flesh, peered down at Jinki with wide eyes of shock. Jinki scoffed bitterly to himself, ashamed of his position of ignorance, Jonghyun having become accustomed to such a horrible thing on his own. Yet there was little time to dwell on such guilt inducing thoughts as Jinki rose to his feet shakily, grasping onto Jonghyun’s wrist.
“What the hell are you doing here?” spat Jonghyun, trying to shake his arm free of Jinki’s vice grip in a futile effort, “How do you keep getting out? This is the third time now?”
Jinki shook his head, wiping the drool from his lips, trying to breathe through his mouth to reduce the intake of the sour smelling air. “I’m not running away,” explained the awkward youth, pulling Jonghyun back in the direction he came, “I came here to get you.”
Jonghyun spluttered, clearly confused by the whole situation, but it did not matter to Jinki as he pulled the younger man along, wanting to get as far away as possible from this place. Jonghyun would not have it however, resisting strongly until the pair came at a standstill only a few meters along with his arm pulled from Jinki’s grip.
“Can you fucking stop?” The younger man demanded in exasperation, running a hand through styled black hair. “Jinki hyung, can you just tell me what the hell is going on? How the hell are you getting out?” A frustrated groan. “I come here cause some soldier on lookout tells me someone is wandering around the graves, and it’s you of all people. I can’t deal with this anymore all right?” Jonghyun mustered some courage and held the older man’s hands tightly. “Just talk to me straight out okay? We are supposed to be best friends aren’t we?”
The voice was almost pleading and Jinki looked Jonghyun directly in the eyes, shadowed by long wavy locks of dark chestnut hair. In the back of his mind Jinki wanted to be contemptuous, tell the man that best friends don’t fuck but he held back, understanding that he had no right to be angry, that Jonghyun had fought far worse experiences than him.
Still, Jinki knew he could not be straight foward, he could not tell Jonghyun the truth outright, that he suspected something was going to happen on the frontlines. If he did, Jinki knew that Jonghyun’s sense of justice would kick in and that the young hero would stay behind to protect every person he possibly could. Instead Jinki used a method that he knew was underhanded, but he was desperate at this point to just get Jonghyun to comply with him.
“If you don’t come back with me,” muttered Jinki, his attempt at a threatening tone failing as he scrunched his nose from the overwhelming stench of death, “I’ll go to the frontlines.”
It was the only thing of his that Jinki knew had value, his intelligence and body, and thankfully enough Jonghyun seemed to take the bait. The young fighter’s eyes went dark as he dragged Jinki’s arm, pulling him back to the secluded building the genius was supposed to be permanently housed in, uttering under his breath, “I am going to get a better fucking lock on that door.”
When they reached their destination, Jinki noted that Key was nowhere in sight, yet that thought has little time to receive attention as Jinki was thrust into the square room by a pair of strong arms. The young man had barely enough time to grasp the handle of the door as Jonghyun nearly shut it in on him. Pulling back on his feet, using all his weight and sheer force to open the door wide, Jinki somehow managed to overpower the younger man, with Jonghyun clumsily stumbling into the room.
Taking advantage of this, Jinki pushed his friend further in, and shut the iron door behind his back, its resounding click echoing off the walls of the room. Jinki however was unable to notice the hand that quickly made its way around his neck, and Jinki spluttered as Jonghyun pinned him to the door, clearly annoyed and confused.
“What is wrong with you?” growled the younger man, frustration burning in his eyes, “You have fucking mood swings like some menopausal woman. First you’re happy, then you’re a pushover, then you basically die on me and now you’re just insane. I’ve been trying so hard to hide everything from those the heads cause I know they scare you. I’ve been trying so hard to keep things under control, but hyung-” The voice squeaks at the plead. “I can’t help you if I don’t know why you are acting like this.”
Holding Jonghyun’s fingers around his neck, Jinki wheezed and the younger man loosened his grip. Jinki slid from his toes back down to his heels, coughing lightly albeit the strong hand still over his neck. He could feel the bruises forming on his skin, but Jinki knew he could not back down because doing so would risk losing Jonghyun. Jinki shook his head, insistently looking at Jonghyun as he explained slowly, “I just need you to stay here.”
As expected, this reply was insufficient and Jinki winced as the grip around his neck tightened again with him closing one eye, struggling to reach for Jonghyun’s wrist. The younger man was far more distraught and Jonghyun trembled, averting his gaze from Jinki, voice quivering with a combination of anger and fear.
“Why are you doing this hyung?” Jonghyun asked, his tone signifying just how lost he was, “You don’t make sense anymore. I thought we were best friends for Gods sakes. I can’t even trust you right now-”
Jinki gasped as his esophagus was pressed against steadily, Jonghyun becoming too far rattled with emotions to be aware of his friend’s condition. Blindly with the instinct of survival, Jinki lashed out, swinging his arms; a fist colliding with the cheekbone of the younger man. Jonghyun held his cheek, recoiling with a groan, and Jinki was at a loss of breath, lungs burning from the sudden lack of oxygen.
Rubbing his neck, Jinki’s black eyes widened, just dodging the swing of a fist directed his way, rolling to the ground. Jonghyun was quick to this and pounced on him, Jinki reaching a hand out quickly to stop a fist directed at his face. The pressure of the fist caused his elbow to shake as it was pinned against the floor and Jinki looked up to Jonghyun’s eyes, filled with so much sadness that nearly crumbled any resistance he had.
“Hyung? Why does it have to be like this?” The voice faltered and Jinki came to a stark realization, a familiar feeling that he was dealing with someone younger than him, playing with the emotions of an adolescent that could not comprehend the situation. Jinki was the one at fault for this, sending his friends on the path to an emotional burnout. His hand left, and Jinki shut his eyes as he felt the rush of air as Jonghyun’s fist hurtled towards his face.
A dull thud and Jinki grunted, heat rushing to his injured cheek, swelling painfully.
There was silence, Jinki still holding himself in pain and Jonghyun breathing heavily, kneeling above the older man. Neither of them moved nor spoke, too afraid of the chain of reactions that could occur. It was hitting rock bottom, a hopeless situation with no way out.
What got the two youths to shift however was the vibration under their feet, increasing to a violent quake. The tools fell off the walls one by one and Jinki froze as Jonghyun crawled over him, shielding his body from any possible threat. A noise sounded that Jinki could only relate to as being similar to a gunshot, amplitudes louder. Soon everything was plummeting to the floor, metal scraping the ground, and Jinki grasped Jonghyun’s clothes tightly, fright filling him inside out.
It was over within seconds but felt like an eternity to Jinki as he buried his face into Jonghyun’s collarbone, trying to be distracted by the smell of dirt and sweat, ignoring the calamity around him. Jinki only opened his eyes when the shaking stopped, the ground finally becoming still as it was before. Jonghyun shuffled off of him, uninjured thankfully enough, and the two looked around the room, a complete and utter mess of scattered tools, a broken table and spilled scraps of garbage and metal.
“What happened?” Was the question that Jonghyun asked, the one also on Jinki’s mind.
“The frontlines,” Jinki breathed, the slow realization of Key’s warning. It was a careless comment Jinki learned as Jonghyun heard him, the young hero with eyes of resolve rising to his feet and heading straight towards the locked door with an intricate looking silver key. Jinki scrambled up to his feet, reaching out to stop Jonghyun when he was only sent flying back to the floor, a hammer getting caught in between his feet. Helplessly, Jinki watched Jonghyun leave, the door clicking shut just as Jinki rushed towards it.
Jinki had no idea what was going on outside. He had to go back out and get Jonghyun back, but it was a futile struggle as Jinki tugged at the locked door, the iron gate not budging a centimeter for him. Then panic set in as the images flashed through his mind, those of dead decaying bodies, blood seeping through pristine sheets. When Key warned him, had he been talking about Jonghyun becoming one of those corpses?
Jinki pounded at the door calling Key’s name, demanding the boy open it. Each call fell upon empty air and his begging would go unanswered. Jinki wondered if something happened to the sharp-eyed boy, if Key was still alive. And soon thoughts of a blue eyed boy with a bright smile flickered across his mind, allowing more panic to be produced. Jinki fell to his knees, a moment of recognition, finding out just how hopeless he was, unable to go out and save his loved ones, to keep that fragile bond alive.
There was a reason he was locked up, and it was not because he had value, it was because Jinki could not help anyone; he was fucking pathetic.
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Tried the center table thing. I like it. :)
Pre-warning for next part. More death.