Porcelain { Seven }
Title: Porcelain
Rating: NC-17/R
Pairing: SeKai + SuChen
Summary: The year is 1913. Kim Jongin and Kim Jongdae are footmen for Foxcombe House, owned by the Wu family who migrated to England following the success of Kristopher Wu's business in both Shanghai and London. He and his heiress wife, Jessica, now own the estate much to the distaste of the locals. A certain runaway from Seoul appears on the doorstep and suddenly the Kim brothers' lives are turned inside-out, destined to end in ruin.
Inspired by the era of Downton Abbey and a certain old manor in Sussex, England, with an eerie story to tell.
Song: The Power of Love - Gabrielle Aplin
{ PROLOGUE } { ONE } { TWO } { THREE } { FOUR } { FIVE } { SIX }
Chapter Seven
1911
“It’ll be an adventure!”
Jongin wasn’t an idiot. He could see the skepticism as plain as day across Jongdae’s face. He tapped the poster with as much enthusiasm as he could muster and attempted to spark at least a little interest behind his brother’s eyes. It didn’t seem to be working.
He sighed. “We’ve talked about it for years, haven’t we? About getting away from Seoul and escaping to the other side of the world?”
Jongdae rolled his eyes. “Yes, but-”
“But what? This is our chance! We can finally make something of ourselves! Together!”
Jongdae leaned against the window and crossed his arms. Outside, the capital was gloomy and uninviting with specks of rain sliding lazily down the glass. Being the eldest, Jongdae had a habit of sticking too much with routine and safe choices which, as grateful as Jongin was, wasn’t going to get them very far. They had no family left to support them and stable jobs in Seoul were as rare and valuable as gold dust.
Yet here was the opportunity of a lifetime; Kristopher Wu of the Wu’s porcelain enterprise was hunting for young, enthusiastic potential staff to take with him across the world to England. Previously experience was desired, but not essential. The pay was acceptable. Only a tight-lipped Jongdae with thick, furrowed brows was standing in Jongin’s way.
“What do you say? We can at least apply, right? It doesn’t hurt to try?” he asked hopefully.
“You really want to do this? You want to leave here and live on the other side of the world?”
“Only if it means we stick together.” He held out a hand. “Promise? Promise you’ll stay with me?”
Jongdae paused but a smile eventually tugged at his lips and he grabbed Jongin’s outstretched palm.
“I promise.”
1913
If only he’d known where it would lead them.
Anger burned hot and white in Jongin’s veins and clouded his judgements. Throwing off his suit jacket, he stomped up to the ground floor and was greeted with a tail-wagging, slobbery German Shepherd in the entrance way looking up expectantly.
“C’mon, boy. We’re going for a walk,” he muttered.
Jongin grabbed the lead hanging near the coat rack by the front door, hooked it onto Jack’s collar and headed out briskly into the summer evening.
The sky was beginning to darken. Puffy clouds sailed over the cerulean canvas and a refreshing breeze filtered through Jongin’s hair. Despite the calming atmosphere and rhythmic mantra of grass brushing against his shoes, however, he couldn’t dispel his frustrations for Sehun’s bad decisions. To imagine Foxcombe without him in it was like imagining a hole in his chest or a limb without its bones. Something vital would be missing and nothing would be the same again, not without copious amounts of pain. He just couldn’t make sense of it all. Why would he want to leave?
Suddenly, he was jolted backwards and his heels dug into the earth.
Jack had decided to stop walking and perch himself on the ground still slightly wet from summer showers.
Jongin swore loudly. “Don’t do this to me now, Jack. I’m not in the mood. Move!”
He tugged hard on the lead but the dog didn't move. He just sat and flicked his head to the side with sadness leaking from his droopy eyes.
“Fine! Walk yourself!” Jongin threw his arms in the air and let the end of the lead fly with them before storming off and leaving the unruly canine to sit on his own. He’d had enough. He didn’t have the patience to deal with this, not when the main valve of his heart was about to break down.
I can’t believe it. Even the bloody dog isn’t listening to me.
But it didn’t take long for the pitter-patter of paws over the grass to reach his ears and, when Jongin turned around, the dog even had his own lead clamped proudly in his mouth.
Jongin couldn’t help but chuckle and fondly ruffle the fur on Jack’s head. “You’re a smart dog, I’ll give you that.”
And the two of them hiked into the forest.
They walked for a good while. Wandering through nature served as semi-decent therapy with the beautiful trees and bird song and cloud shapes peeking through the canopy. The dying sunlight would soon render him blind so Jongin knew he couldn’t stay out for long. Yet onward they roamed through rivers of thick ferns and over enough rabbit holes to make him trip over at least twice. He was letting his feet guide the way though he knew exactly where they were taking him.
The beech tree.
It hadn’t changed. Trees had that ancient, ageless air about them as though they’d sprouted at the dawn of time and would never wither. This tree was no exception. No doubt it had seen enough in its time, including the frolics of him and Sehun. The boy had dug his back so hard into the bark that night that Jongin could have traced the imprints along his flesh like a map. He remembered how their bodies fitted together so perfectly, as though every contour was molded by divine hands to lock into the other’s skin.
Then Jongin’s feet froze.
“What am I even doing?” he asked himself aloud.
I’m letting him leave, he realised. I’m letting Sehun disappear.
But he couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Jack! C’mon, boy! Quick!” he whistled, bounding off back into the trees. The swift patter of large paws and crunch of branches behind told Jongin the furry beast was following swiftly at his heels but he didn’t stop to check. There was no time.
He’d never put much faith into a higher power but as his heels hit the ground and he batted rogue low-lying twigs out of his face, every inch of his soul was praying Sehun would still be there, that he hadn’t done anything rash and wandered out into the dying day. Surely he’d stay one final night and leave in the morning? Surely?
He hoped.
That hope, however, faded into dust when he finally broke out of the wild forest and Foxcombe came into view over the manicured lawns and rose bushes.
It was on fire.
♦♦♦
He looked like an angel. A sleeping angel.
Except no angel needed their hands and feet tied.
Jongdae hugged his knees tightly as he leant back against the door, watching Joonmyun’s chest rise and fall slightly from the bed. His hair had come loose from its formal constrains and flecked his pale forehead with strands of black. Jongdae could feel his heart thumping painfully against his rips while bells rang and the sound of a rumbling herd echoed in the distance. People were running, but he didn’t care. It didn’t faze him.
Only one dark thought plagued his mind:
What have I done?
♦♦♦
The door had shut and they were alone. Lu Han raked his gaze up and down Sehun’s long form and it made him tremor to feel so vulnerable. The snake licked his thin lips.
“What’s the matter, Sehun-ah? Are you afraid of me?”
“Don’t. Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what? Sehun-ah?” he asked mockingly. “You used to like it. You used to mewl and shudder when I moaned it into your ear. Do you not remember? Shall I remind you?”
“No!” Sehun tried to keep his voice steady and chin high, to exude faux confidence despite his weak knees.
Lu Han was seeing straight through his façade. A smirk bloomed below his angelic features. “Liar. You were always so bad at lying. Your emotions paint themselves too easily across that beautiful face of yours - like now. You look frightened.”
“Do you really blame me?” Sehun retreated a little more but his back hit the wall. There was no-where left for him to move.
The corners of Lu Han’s mouth fell. “I don’t want to hurt you, you must understand this. I meant what I said all those years ago - nothing’s changed for me. I still love you. Don’t force my hands, little footman.”
“You have no idea what love is. You’re sick and twisted,” Sehun spat, and anger flickered across the heir’s face.
“How dare you say that to-”
“You killed your own brother!” Sehun didn’t care that he was shrieking. Fear was leaking from his tongue what he’d kept locked deep inside of himself and consumed his soul like a poison. “And I saw it all! Here!” He jabbed a sharp finger against his skull. “Here in my head! I saw everything before it even happened!”
It had all come flooding back the night that Lu Han arrived at Foxcombe: the terror, the agony, the inner-torment. Seeing the youthful glow of the young heir’s skin unearthed what felt like a century of memories to drown his heart like a dam had been destroyed to let the tides through. It was as though he’d been transported back to Seoul, back to the Lu family’s Korean abode that had taken Sehun under its wing and ensnared him in a beautiful but deadly web of deceit. Lu Han had been so embracing and affectionate while the new footman found his feet under Lord Lu’s employment; embracing enough to lure him into dark corners and shower his innocent skin with swirls of his tongue and deep kisses that left purple bruises. Sehun’s heart had raced so fast and wild while strange nightmares began to haunt his slumbers and the mouth that once breathed I love you wasn’t so innocent anymore. After the death of Lord Lu from a swift fever, the eldest son soon mysteriously followed and Sehun’s own life crashed around his feet once he realised what had happened.
His nightmares had come true. He’d seen the future…and Lu Han was a cold-blooded murderer.
I did it for us, he’d said.
Just let me go - let me get far away from here and I’ll never breathe a word, I swear, Sehun had pleaded while shaking a sheet of paper in his grasp.
I’ll never let you go, but Lu Han had snatched the page and written the reference nonetheless. Sehun realised now how foolish he was to believe him. He never did let him go.
“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Lu Han asked with an air of proud success that laced its fingers into Sehun’s patience.
“You know it doesn’t work like that!” Sehun yelled, although the sudden trampling of feet outside the door and chorus of frantic bells drowned out his efforts, but he ignored the chaos. “I spent months and months fearing my own shadow, fearing what I was capable of but all along it wasn’t even me - you were the one responsible, they were your hands!” He pushed himself off the wall and walked close to Lu Han’s face to growl through a clenched jaw. “Was it worth it? Was strangling your own brother to death worth all the riches? Or do you lie awake at night haunted by the feeling of his life being sucked away under your fingertips? I shouldn’t have ran away. I should have told the world what a monster you are. Miss Jung-”
“Miss Jung won’t know a thing and neither will the rest of the world, I will make sure of it.”
Lu Han was the perfect predator, Sehun realised. His boyish charms and virginal face could lure even the brightest moths into the fire that blazed behind his eyes and singe the fragile tips of their wings. Sehun’s own had once felt tattered and broken - until he escaped to the other side of the world. Now, they had healed and he wasn’t about to let himself get burnt again; not by Lu Han, not by anyone.
He kept his chin high. “You can’t touch me. You won’t get away with it again. You can’t hurt m-”
The tip of his nose tingled at the scent of something foul…and burning. His eyes flew to the door and a subtle ribbon of smoke was coiling under the gap and oozing into the air, making it slightly hazy. Suddenly the running and clamouring outside that he’d heard made sense and fear raged under his skin when he realised what it meant.
Jongin was in danger.
At the sight of Sehun’s melted confidence, Lu Han’s mouth curled into a snarl. “Maybe I won’t have to.” The heir blinked away the irritation that began to sting at his eyes. “You saw this, didn’t you? You saw this fire - your eyes are giving it away. Who dies this time? Is it you? Or perhaps it’s your precious plaything, the other footman boy. Is that why you’re trembling?”
I have to get to Jongin, was all he could think about as his fist clenched. I have to save him.
“You could have made this so much easier for yourself.” Lu Han leant into his ear and purred: “could have ran further.”
A second later, Sehun took his chance and shoved hard at Lu Han’s chest before swinging his arm around and slamming his knuckles into the side of the heir’s perplexed face. The sharp corners of his bones collided with the soft skin and red flecked into the air while he scrambled to freedom. His feet slipped slightly on the stone floor but he propelled himself forward and the doorknob was barely inches from his outstretched grasp-
But a hand clawed at the back of his shirt and pulled him backwards. Sehun fell into Lu Han’s chest who’d wrapped his fingers around his throat with a tightening grip and the footman choked.
“We could have had something special, you and I,” Lu Han breathed menacingly. “I could have looked after you. You’ve brought this upon yourself, Sehun-ah.”
The next few moments flew past in a messy, thrashing blur as Lu Han slammed him into the wall and every bone in his body quaked from the pain. Hands gripped at his neck again and the fingers dug so sharply into his skin he was sure they’d draw blood. No matter how much he tried to tear at Lu Han’s arms and kick out at his shins, the lack of oxygen dotted stars into his vision and rendered his limbs weak and heavy. As the sound of pumping blood flooded his ears and the billowing smoke poisoned his lungs, Lu Han’s dark, hungry gaze bored deep into his skull and the world faded away.
Jongin…
Jong…in…
And everything went black.
♦♦♦
On and on the bells rang.
On and on feet trampled and people rushed.
Yet Jongdae remained unmoving.
Watching. Waiting.
Until Joonmyun finally opened his eyes.
The butler’s eyelids fluttered and he stared upwards at the high ceiling for a few moments, obviously a little disorientated. After a while, they widened in shock and his head turned to look frantically around the room. His gaze fell on Jongdae and his lips parted.
“Jongdae? W-what-?” Joonmyun went to move his arms but found them constricted, along with his legs. “I don’t…understand…” he croaked. His voice sounded rough like sandpaper. “Did you not read my diary?”
“You know?” asked Jongdae with genuine surprise.
He nodded against the sheet. “When I opened the drawer and it was missing…well…nobody else in this house knows of its existence. I presumed you had taken it.”
Jongdae silently cursed himself for being so slow. He’d been convinced that he’d returned the book quickly enough for its disappearance to go unnoticed. However, that obviously wasn’t the case. Now his cheeks flushed with embarrassment but at least the truth was finally free after being caged for so long. The painful truth.
He swallowed through a dry throat. “Yes. I read it.”
Joonmyun glanced down at his wrists lashed together. “I don’t think you did. Not really.”
“I did. I read how you were disgusted by me, how you hated yourself for touching me in the first place.” Anger boiled again in Jongdae’s stomach, hot and bubbling, and he suddenly found himself on his feet. “Why did you even do it, huh? Why touch me at all if I repulse you so badly?”
“You don’t repulse me.”
“That’s not what you wrote,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“Read it again.”
Given the circumstance, Joonmyun’s voice remained calm and steady - friendly even - which only aggravated Jongdae a little more. Who was he to give orders after what he’d done? Who was he to say what was right or wrong when Jongdae had the power now?
Nevertheless, Jongdae’s eyes automatically flew to the drawer. He hesitated, unsure whether to move from his position. If he walked away, would Joonmyun make a break for the door? With his weary head and limbs bound so tightly, it was unlikely he’d get very far. He decided to risk it and give in to curiosity, prowling over to the desk and reaching into the drawer to grasp the tome of his downfall in his sweating palm.
“June 21st,” came a small voice.
Jongdae turned. “What?”
“June 21st, 1912,” Joonmyun uttered.
Over a year ago…?
He did as he was told and scanned the months while trying to keep his fingers steady. As Midsummer’s Eve appeared under his touch, he drew a shaky breath and let his eyes fall onto the page. The first line was enough to make him lose the air in his lungs altogether.
“I think I’m in love with him.”
He read those words over and over, barely able to remain standing.
“Today I watched him out in the gardens. I was jealous - jealous of the roses. Hell, I was jealous of the fingers of his hand. They could touch him whenever they pleased.”
Jongdae remembered this day. He’d strolled around the gardens collecting rose petals under the midday sun to slip into his enveloped letters since Joonmyun was allergic to the pollen and could never appreciate the flowers when they bloomed. He’d press the petals between hardbacks to render them crisp and make his secret desires smell like a garden in early summer.
He sighed at the faded memory and continued reading.
“The way the sunlight dances on his jet black hair, the upturned corners of his mouth even when he’s not smiling, the moles that dot his sharp jawline…Lord, it lights up my soul - all of it - and he’ll never know.”
“How do I survive feeling like this? How do I cope?”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Jongdae scanned more and more pages and found similar confessions etched into the paper. It wasn’t sinking in. Reality wasn’t making sense.
“This…this can’t be true…it can’t be…”
“It is, and has been for a long time. I’m… so sorry, Jongdae.”
Jongdae looked up. “F-for what?”
Joonmyun’s face fell with sadness. “Everything.” He nudged his head towards the foot of the bed. “Under there you’ll find a box. Open it.”
The valet did as he was told without a second thought. He was desperate for answers, desperate for a truth that could finally make sense. He knelt down and threw a hand under the bed where it collided with something solid. Jongdae pulled it out - it was a box, just as Joonmyun had promised. It was relatively small and, if he had to admit it, rather feminine in design. The remnants of a floral pattern had faded from its surface and the latch holding the lid down was rusted and weak. It lifted open to a feather-light touch.
Inside lay leafs of old paper with a single faded photograph perched on the top. Jongdae’s trembling fingers picked it up and held it in the air. It was a picture of a beautiful young woman.
“Who is this?”
“My wife.”
Jongdae’s head snapped up. Had he heard him correctly? “Your wife? W-where is she? Back in Seoul? Where?” He could barely keep his voice steady.
After a few long seconds of silence, Joonmyun finally breathed, “She’s dead.”
Silence.
“I never loved her. We married to appease our families, nothing more - or so I thought. But her feelings for me grew true and then a year later-” Pause. “She died of consumption. I was there in her final moments. The guilt eats me up inside that I never…I never returned her affections…”
He shifted his position on the bed and leaned up slightly on his elbow. “Love hasn’t been kind to me in the past. When my feelings for you began to surface, I couldn’t understand or accept it. I tried ignoring them altogether but…it was too difficult in the end. I couldn’t stay away from you. That night in the wine cellar…well, read it for yourself. Properly this time.”
Jongdae picked up the diary again and flicked forward a year in time to that summer. There, written as plain as day, were the words he had desired to read more than anything but Destiny had blinded them from him.
“Tonight was the greatest night of my life.”
“You loved me…” he uttered, barely louder than a whisper. “Y-you loved me all along…?”
Joonmyun lowered his head. “I really am so sorry. My own guilt held my tongue back from telling you the truth. Out of everything…I regret that the most now.”
Jongdae was rendered speechless. It took more than a few tense moments of staring between the photograph in his hand to the bound widower gazing back at him before he could speak at all.
“No…no this can’t be happening…”
The picture and diary fell from his fingertips and crashed to the floor as he raked his hands roughly through his hair. This was the reality he’d longed for - but not like this. He realised now, as though someone had lifted a veil from his eyes, that he’d twisted and mutated his desires into a monstrosity. Jealousy of Jongin and Sehun’s shared affections had consumed him and now the results of such a madness lay on the sheets in front of him…and was actually apologising. He lifted up his hands to turn them over and back again, almost expecting bloodied claws to appear where there were nails or scales to grow from under his skin.
What have I become?
Who could ever love…a monster?
The remaining colour suddenly drained from Joonmyun’s already pale cheeks. “Jongdae, l-look!”
He was staring, wide-eyed, in pure terror at the stream of smoke creeping under the door. All the while that they had been talking, the room had become progressively hazier but Jongdae hadn’t even noticed. His mind had been too preoccupied. Now the smell of burning engulfed his nostrils and tainted his mouth and Joonmyun started to gasp and cough violently.
“We have to go,” he cried between gasps, lifting up his wrists. “It isn’t too late - we can get out of here! Untie me and we’ll run for it! Together!”
Together…
Jongdae didn’t move.
There was no together. He didn’t deserve that paradise.
Not anymore.
♦♦♦
Jongin sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him; flying over the grass with blood pumping painfully hot in his veins while plumes of rising smoke stained the sky with charcoal. It rose from Foxcombe’s silhouette, blushed pink by the sunset, and began to blot the remaining, milky light that broke from behind the clouds. Every step that pounded against the ground sent a vibration of agony through his bones from running so hard and his lungs could barely suck in oxygen, but he couldn’t stop. The pain could wait. He had to make sure Sehun and Jongdae were safe first.
As he got closer, Jongin could make out the outline of people gathering in the house’s expansive driveway. They were huddled together and staring up at the towering fumes above while others ran from the entrance; hands over their mouths and spluttering. The taste of smoke hit the tip of Jongin’s tongue and he wretched as his eyes frantically scanned the crowd for Sehun or his brother’s faces.
Lord Wu was safe, as was his wife who he held against his chest while their glorious home burned before their eyes. Soonkyu, the lady’s maid, stood a little further back, sniffling, with Joohyun and Yi Xing staring in horror at the chaos. Mrs Kwon was comforting a scullery maid in tears and Soojung clung to Lu Han’s arm in terror. He had a bruise on the side of his face but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. When Jongin finally reached them, Jack leapt forward and into Kris’ outstretched arms and his face lit up with relief at the sight of his beloved furry friend.
“Where are they? Where are Jongdae and Sehun?” Jongin asked, barely able to catch his breath. “And Joonmyun? Where’s Mr Kim?”
Jessica looked a little affronted at the staff member wailing at her so suddenly and without permission but Kris stepped forward.
“Nobody has seen them. They must be still inside. If we wait, the services-”
“There’s no time, sir - I can’t wait. I’ll find them!”
“Wait! Jongin!” came Lord Wu’s bellowing call, but he didn’t listen.
Jongin drew a shaky breath and launched himself into the burning building.
Inside was hot, very hot. The fire had spread at an alarming rate and at the side of his blurry vision he could make out orange and red glowing through the smoky glare. Jongin ducked his head down to avoid the thickening smog and covered his lips with his palm. Without much of a thought, he flew across to the servant’s stairs where the door hung open and raced down to the basement.
Underground, it was much cooler as the flames hadn’t reached so far below but the smoke had, somehow. It lingered in the air and made his eyes sting and tears began to well.
“Jongdae! Sehun!” he screamed through his fingers. “Mr Kim! Is anyone down here?”
There was no answer.
Despite this, he didn’t give up hope. He kicked at his bedroom door but found the room behind it empty. He didn’t expect his brother to return to their old shared room but there was always a chance. Jongin moved on, crouched low, and felt his way through the haze which now hung much denser in front of his face and fingered the wall for Sehun’s door. He slammed his palm against it, calling out Sehun’s name over and over, until he finally found the door knob and it twisted easily in his grasp.
The back of his throat itched and forced his chest to tighten and cough painfully - but even through watery eyes, Jongin could make out Sehun’s dark outline on the floor and he immediately ran to crouch at his side.
“Sehun! Oh my God, Sehun, wake up! Please!” He shook at the boy’s shoulders, willing for his eyes to open. There were red marks dotted along his long neck and barely any colour in his lips.
But there was a heartbeat.
Time was running out. With all the strength he could muster, Jongin wound his arms around the boy’s chest and lifted him up to swing his limp form over his shoulder. But when Sehun’s head rocked back and his eyes flew open, he almost dropped him again in shock.
“Sehun, can you hear me? Sehun!” he cried out, slapping his cheeks.
He eventually came to and straightened out his long legs a little shakily. At the sight of Jongin’s face, he wearily brought his hands up to cup either the side of his head.
“Jongin, you’re okay! You’re alive!”
“Yes, I’m alive and thankfully so are you but we won’t be for long.” Jongin grabbed Sehun’s arm and brought it over his shoulders. “I have to find Jongdae and Joonmyun. Can you walk? I can carry you outside-”
“N-no, I’m coming with you!” said Sehun forcefully. He broke away from Jongin’s hold and staggered on the spot until his outstretched arm felt the wall. Jongin went to grab him again but he only slapped his hand away.
“Sehun, you can barely stand-”
“I’m not leaving you, dammit!” There was a stain of determination in his eyes that pierced through even the thickest smog plumes now rising in the room and, despite being desperately worried for his safety, Jongin’s heart couldn’t help but feel lighter.
“Alright, alright! Take my hand.” Jongin laced their fingers before using his free hand to cover his mouth again. “Stay close and keep as low to the ground as possible, understand?”
Sehun nodded and mirrored his movements. Bodies squatted towards the stone floor, they shuffled out of the room and down the corridor, back towards the servant’s stairs and entrance hall beyond. However, through the swelling haze that tortured the fleshy insides of their throats, the pulsing heat grew and grew until their temples began to sweat and, at the foot of the steps, they halted at the sight of flames blocking their way out at the top.
“We can’t go this way! Try the other stairs!” Jongin yelled, trying to keep his nerves as calm as possible for Sehun’s sake. At the same time, fear began to leak from every pore of his skin.
What if they couldn’t get out?
They ran up the spiral staircase to the first floor which housed Jongdae and Joonmyun’s rooms. All seem deserted behind the hot, murky air.
“Jongdae! Mr Kim!” they screamed. Sehun went to barge Joonmyun’s door down but Jongin quickly stopped him to save his health and did it in himself. It was empty. When they reached Jongdae’s door, it was locked.
“Jongdae! Are you in there?” Jongin cried, throwing his weight against it. It was determined not to budge so he stepped back to kick it down with all his remaining strength. It took more than a few powerful smashes of his foot against the wood to make it move but, eventually, it gave way and swung open violently on its hinges.
They both ran inside but froze in the doorway at the sight before them. Jongdae was stood with an open book and rusted box at his feet while Joonmyun lay on the bed, restrained by his wrists and ankles lashed together. It was possibly one of the last things Jongin expected to see.
“What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed as his jaw fell open. “Screw it, don’t answer that - you can tell me later. Just get yourselves out of here! C’mon!”
He leapt over the floor to tug at the ties cutting into Joonmyun’s skin and, with help from Sehun, they managed to heave a shaky butler to his legs and carry him out into the corridor.
“The servant’s quarters are blocked, we’ll have to take the main staircase! This way!”
Thankfully the door leading to Lord Wu’s wing was only short steps away and meant they didn’t have to contend with the rest of the burning corridor. Sehun almost stopped walking entirely at the sight of the fire now blazing brightly at the end of the hallway but Jongin’s shouting seemed to snap him out of his trance and they fled through the door just in time.
The mad rush through the building was a challenge, especially as Joonmyun’s head kept drooping and his feet were starting to drag. Jongin kept throwing Sehun worried glances in the hope he wouldn’t have two unconscious bodies to contend with anytime soon. Sehun was getting obviously weaker and slower but when the entrance hall came into view at the bottom of the grand stairs and Foxcombe’s front doors loomed behind the smog, he breathed a long, if slightly toxic, sigh of relief.
Until they reached the ground floor.
“Stop! Where’s Jongdae? He was right behind us!”
Jongin pivoted on the spot, looking around. His older brother wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Where had he gone?
He unlatched Joonmyun’s limp arm from around his shoulder. “I have to go back for him. Take Joonmyun and get outside! Now!”
“No!” Sehun shrieked, grabbing hold of his arm. “You can’t!”
Jongin cradled the boy’s face in his hands. “Sehun, I love you. Truly. You’re the most incredible thing to happen to me so I need you to go! I need to know you’ll be safe! This isn’t goodbye! I’ll be back, I promise!”
But something in Sehun’s mournful eyes told him he didn’t believe him.
♦♦♦
It had been an adventure; Jongin hadn’t lied about that.
But what other choice had he had?
In their last moment together, Jongdae slid the diary into Joonmyun’s precious box of memories and slipped it into his grasp as he ran out of the door. While the others had faded into the smoke clouds, Jongdae had paused at the sight of his brother’s retreating form and watched him disappear into nothing. He wasn’t going to follow. Not this time.
The fumes hit him hard and he bent over, wheezing and choking on soot-flecked mucus that rose in his throat. He’d made his decision and now the glowing flames that crept down the hallway and melted the embossed wallpaper were deciding his fate.
It really was a beautiful house; he could never deny that. Even now, as stumbled back into his room, the swirling details along the skirting board and around the door frame along with the elegant patterns etched onto the walls could not be ignored. He still remembered the moment he first stepped into Foxcombe with an excitable Jongin bouncing at his side and a single, half-empty suitcase clasped tightly in his hand - everything had seemed so grand and luxurious and foreign back then. The Wu family had barely moved in and many rooms were yet to be furnished but, still, Foxcombe had shined. It’s delicate elegance had been overwhelming; a little intimidating even. But Jongin had fed him hopes of an exciting new life with bright, blue skies on the horizon despite cold glares from the locals and an interesting climate to adjust to. It had been no surprise to hear Lady Wu sobbing in her quarters late at night because Jongdae had only ended up feeling the same way after a while. Now, two years since the beginning of his new life, the horizon glowed orange and hot enough to melt the memories of his heart’s other half and what he had done to him.
Love shouldn’t do that, not to anyone. Love wasn’t meant to destroy.
Jongin hadn’t completely broken the lock. It still worked. The door knob was still cool to touch but it wouldn’t be for long. Jongdae could barely see in front of him but he thought of this as a good thing as he slammed the door and shut himself inside. It only meant it would happen quicker. He grabbed the chest of drawers and heaved it in front of the entrance. By now every muscle in his body was aching and his head was ringing with pain from each heave of his chest and, soon, all he could do was crawl across the floor to the edge of his bed and slide his arm underneath the mattress to grab at the bundle of letters tied with string.
It wasn’t meant to be this way. It wasn’t meant to be this way at all.
Tears polluted with regret slid down his cheeks, carrying with them the individual memories of Joonmyun’s touch and the feel of his breath and the sound of his voice.
Then soft, sweet music began to play.
“See? It’s not difficult. You’re a natural.”
“Only when you’re holding me.”
As Jongdae hugged the letters to his chest, the letters he never got to send, all he heard was the music.
The soft, sweet music…
♦♦♦
He screamed out Jongdae’s name the entire way; bellowing it out into the smouldering space that caked his lungs with black. Jongin couldn’t understand it - had he fallen? Had he been left behind? Had be found somebody to rescue, somebody they hadn’t noticed?
Whatever the reason, Jongin found himself back on the first floor corridor after tracing their steps and clawing at the wall to keep upright. The smoke was finally getting to his head. He could feel it.
It was only a matter of time…but he had to find Jongdae.
Only his room was now shut and locked once more.
Which could only have meant-
“Jongdae, come out! I’m serious! We’re running out of time!” He kicked at the door again but it didn’t move. His strength was being sapped by the second. “I can’t do this without you! I can’t be here without you! You’re my brother, dammit! Blood or no blood!”
Soon he was heaving every limb against the hard surface in a pathetic attempt to defeat his only real obstacle.
But nobody was letting him through.
“Jongdae, please! I NEED YOU! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”
Boom, boom, boom, went his clenched fists against the wood now flecked with red. He forced a hand around the doorknob and pulled as hard as he could, rattling the metal with little success. Wild shapes were beginning to dance behind his eyes and nausea was bubbling from the taste of charcoal.
“You promised you wouldn’t leave me!” he cried as salty tears began to sting. “You promised it would be us, together! JONGDAE! YOU PROMISED!”
Each slap of his palm and kick of his toes went unheard and soon he barely possessed the strength to lift his arms up but he persevered through the panic that ripped his soul apart.
“Help! HELP!” Jongin shouted. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! PLEASE!”
The crackling flames had crept dangerously close and singed every inch of the walls black and sinister. Delusions swam around his head from the lack of oxygen and painted dark faces that leered at his face through the storm of smoke plumes. Heat licked at his ears and curled around his throat like a serpent and brought Jongin to his knees. He couldn’t see anything. Everything was cloudy.
It was getting hotter…
It was getting hazier…
And the burning pain started at his ankles…
Except it was less of a burning pain and more of a sharp clench of jaws around his feet.
Slobbery jaws.
Jongin opened his eyes only a slither and Jack’s wet nose was prodding and shoving his legs between gnashes of his teeth against his skin. He snapped his jaws around the bottom of Jongin’s trousers and pulled backwards, tearing slightly at the fabric but willing him to move. He was still wearing his lead.
Jongin linked his fingers onto the loop and let the dog steer him out of the building with legs that could scarcely hold his weight. Whenever he stopped or lost his balance, Jack would pause before leading him on. Too much of the world was swimming and humming for Jongin to make sense of what was happening. Reality laced with hot smoke had numbed him from it all.
Cool air washed over his face. Gravel grated his cheek. Hands grabbed his waist and pushed him onto his back. Someone clenched his wrists.
“Jongin, look at me! Look at me!”
It was Sehun’s face staring down at him with cheeks stained wet and shining.
“It’s okay, Jongin, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ve got you.”
And so the boy held and rocked him in his arms while the building burned to ash.
Along with his only brother.
♦♦♦
She didn’t expect the locals to come, but they did. They came in their droves to stare in awe at the spectacle and chaos that seared the night sky and smeared it with red and gold. Jessica had flinched at a stranger’s touch but it was only the elderly vicar covering her shoulders with a blanket. The rest of the village was helping in any way they could: some were lugging baskets of food to offer Foxcombe’s lost employees. Some even offered spare beds in their houses for people to sleep on that night. Kris was in his element as he lavished the unexpected care and generosity of Harting’s inhabitants. It was amazing what could bring people together.
Jessica, however, stepped away from the fray. With a tilt of success on her lips, she savoured the fire’s glow on her skin. There were no summer rains tonight. Perhaps the Gods approved of her intentions. Her fingers still smelled of the alcohol she’s poured in Foxcombe’s dark corners and of the matches she’d lit to ignite it.
It had all been worth it, she thought to herself as she cradled her budding belly in her arms.
The freedom had been worth the price.
{ Epilogue }
Rating: NC-17/R
Pairing: SeKai + SuChen
Summary: The year is 1913. Kim Jongin and Kim Jongdae are footmen for Foxcombe House, owned by the Wu family who migrated to England following the success of Kristopher Wu's business in both Shanghai and London. He and his heiress wife, Jessica, now own the estate much to the distaste of the locals. A certain runaway from Seoul appears on the doorstep and suddenly the Kim brothers' lives are turned inside-out, destined to end in ruin.
Inspired by the era of Downton Abbey and a certain old manor in Sussex, England, with an eerie story to tell.
Song: The Power of Love - Gabrielle Aplin
{ PROLOGUE } { ONE } { TWO } { THREE } { FOUR } { FIVE } { SIX }
Chapter Seven
1911
“It’ll be an adventure!”
Jongin wasn’t an idiot. He could see the skepticism as plain as day across Jongdae’s face. He tapped the poster with as much enthusiasm as he could muster and attempted to spark at least a little interest behind his brother’s eyes. It didn’t seem to be working.
He sighed. “We’ve talked about it for years, haven’t we? About getting away from Seoul and escaping to the other side of the world?”
Jongdae rolled his eyes. “Yes, but-”
“But what? This is our chance! We can finally make something of ourselves! Together!”
Jongdae leaned against the window and crossed his arms. Outside, the capital was gloomy and uninviting with specks of rain sliding lazily down the glass. Being the eldest, Jongdae had a habit of sticking too much with routine and safe choices which, as grateful as Jongin was, wasn’t going to get them very far. They had no family left to support them and stable jobs in Seoul were as rare and valuable as gold dust.
Yet here was the opportunity of a lifetime; Kristopher Wu of the Wu’s porcelain enterprise was hunting for young, enthusiastic potential staff to take with him across the world to England. Previously experience was desired, but not essential. The pay was acceptable. Only a tight-lipped Jongdae with thick, furrowed brows was standing in Jongin’s way.
“What do you say? We can at least apply, right? It doesn’t hurt to try?” he asked hopefully.
“You really want to do this? You want to leave here and live on the other side of the world?”
“Only if it means we stick together.” He held out a hand. “Promise? Promise you’ll stay with me?”
Jongdae paused but a smile eventually tugged at his lips and he grabbed Jongin’s outstretched palm.
“I promise.”
1913
If only he’d known where it would lead them.
Anger burned hot and white in Jongin’s veins and clouded his judgements. Throwing off his suit jacket, he stomped up to the ground floor and was greeted with a tail-wagging, slobbery German Shepherd in the entrance way looking up expectantly.
“C’mon, boy. We’re going for a walk,” he muttered.
Jongin grabbed the lead hanging near the coat rack by the front door, hooked it onto Jack’s collar and headed out briskly into the summer evening.
The sky was beginning to darken. Puffy clouds sailed over the cerulean canvas and a refreshing breeze filtered through Jongin’s hair. Despite the calming atmosphere and rhythmic mantra of grass brushing against his shoes, however, he couldn’t dispel his frustrations for Sehun’s bad decisions. To imagine Foxcombe without him in it was like imagining a hole in his chest or a limb without its bones. Something vital would be missing and nothing would be the same again, not without copious amounts of pain. He just couldn’t make sense of it all. Why would he want to leave?
Suddenly, he was jolted backwards and his heels dug into the earth.
Jack had decided to stop walking and perch himself on the ground still slightly wet from summer showers.
Jongin swore loudly. “Don’t do this to me now, Jack. I’m not in the mood. Move!”
He tugged hard on the lead but the dog didn't move. He just sat and flicked his head to the side with sadness leaking from his droopy eyes.
“Fine! Walk yourself!” Jongin threw his arms in the air and let the end of the lead fly with them before storming off and leaving the unruly canine to sit on his own. He’d had enough. He didn’t have the patience to deal with this, not when the main valve of his heart was about to break down.
I can’t believe it. Even the bloody dog isn’t listening to me.
But it didn’t take long for the pitter-patter of paws over the grass to reach his ears and, when Jongin turned around, the dog even had his own lead clamped proudly in his mouth.
Jongin couldn’t help but chuckle and fondly ruffle the fur on Jack’s head. “You’re a smart dog, I’ll give you that.”
And the two of them hiked into the forest.
They walked for a good while. Wandering through nature served as semi-decent therapy with the beautiful trees and bird song and cloud shapes peeking through the canopy. The dying sunlight would soon render him blind so Jongin knew he couldn’t stay out for long. Yet onward they roamed through rivers of thick ferns and over enough rabbit holes to make him trip over at least twice. He was letting his feet guide the way though he knew exactly where they were taking him.
The beech tree.
It hadn’t changed. Trees had that ancient, ageless air about them as though they’d sprouted at the dawn of time and would never wither. This tree was no exception. No doubt it had seen enough in its time, including the frolics of him and Sehun. The boy had dug his back so hard into the bark that night that Jongin could have traced the imprints along his flesh like a map. He remembered how their bodies fitted together so perfectly, as though every contour was molded by divine hands to lock into the other’s skin.
Then Jongin’s feet froze.
“What am I even doing?” he asked himself aloud.
I’m letting him leave, he realised. I’m letting Sehun disappear.
But he couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Jack! C’mon, boy! Quick!” he whistled, bounding off back into the trees. The swift patter of large paws and crunch of branches behind told Jongin the furry beast was following swiftly at his heels but he didn’t stop to check. There was no time.
He’d never put much faith into a higher power but as his heels hit the ground and he batted rogue low-lying twigs out of his face, every inch of his soul was praying Sehun would still be there, that he hadn’t done anything rash and wandered out into the dying day. Surely he’d stay one final night and leave in the morning? Surely?
He hoped.
That hope, however, faded into dust when he finally broke out of the wild forest and Foxcombe came into view over the manicured lawns and rose bushes.
It was on fire.
♦♦♦
He looked like an angel. A sleeping angel.
Except no angel needed their hands and feet tied.
Jongdae hugged his knees tightly as he leant back against the door, watching Joonmyun’s chest rise and fall slightly from the bed. His hair had come loose from its formal constrains and flecked his pale forehead with strands of black. Jongdae could feel his heart thumping painfully against his rips while bells rang and the sound of a rumbling herd echoed in the distance. People were running, but he didn’t care. It didn’t faze him.
Only one dark thought plagued his mind:
What have I done?
♦♦♦
The door had shut and they were alone. Lu Han raked his gaze up and down Sehun’s long form and it made him tremor to feel so vulnerable. The snake licked his thin lips.
“What’s the matter, Sehun-ah? Are you afraid of me?”
“Don’t. Don’t say my name like that.”
“Like what? Sehun-ah?” he asked mockingly. “You used to like it. You used to mewl and shudder when I moaned it into your ear. Do you not remember? Shall I remind you?”
“No!” Sehun tried to keep his voice steady and chin high, to exude faux confidence despite his weak knees.
Lu Han was seeing straight through his façade. A smirk bloomed below his angelic features. “Liar. You were always so bad at lying. Your emotions paint themselves too easily across that beautiful face of yours - like now. You look frightened.”
“Do you really blame me?” Sehun retreated a little more but his back hit the wall. There was no-where left for him to move.
The corners of Lu Han’s mouth fell. “I don’t want to hurt you, you must understand this. I meant what I said all those years ago - nothing’s changed for me. I still love you. Don’t force my hands, little footman.”
“You have no idea what love is. You’re sick and twisted,” Sehun spat, and anger flickered across the heir’s face.
“How dare you say that to-”
“You killed your own brother!” Sehun didn’t care that he was shrieking. Fear was leaking from his tongue what he’d kept locked deep inside of himself and consumed his soul like a poison. “And I saw it all! Here!” He jabbed a sharp finger against his skull. “Here in my head! I saw everything before it even happened!”
It had all come flooding back the night that Lu Han arrived at Foxcombe: the terror, the agony, the inner-torment. Seeing the youthful glow of the young heir’s skin unearthed what felt like a century of memories to drown his heart like a dam had been destroyed to let the tides through. It was as though he’d been transported back to Seoul, back to the Lu family’s Korean abode that had taken Sehun under its wing and ensnared him in a beautiful but deadly web of deceit. Lu Han had been so embracing and affectionate while the new footman found his feet under Lord Lu’s employment; embracing enough to lure him into dark corners and shower his innocent skin with swirls of his tongue and deep kisses that left purple bruises. Sehun’s heart had raced so fast and wild while strange nightmares began to haunt his slumbers and the mouth that once breathed I love you wasn’t so innocent anymore. After the death of Lord Lu from a swift fever, the eldest son soon mysteriously followed and Sehun’s own life crashed around his feet once he realised what had happened.
His nightmares had come true. He’d seen the future…and Lu Han was a cold-blooded murderer.
I did it for us, he’d said.
Just let me go - let me get far away from here and I’ll never breathe a word, I swear, Sehun had pleaded while shaking a sheet of paper in his grasp.
I’ll never let you go, but Lu Han had snatched the page and written the reference nonetheless. Sehun realised now how foolish he was to believe him. He never did let him go.
“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Lu Han asked with an air of proud success that laced its fingers into Sehun’s patience.
“You know it doesn’t work like that!” Sehun yelled, although the sudden trampling of feet outside the door and chorus of frantic bells drowned out his efforts, but he ignored the chaos. “I spent months and months fearing my own shadow, fearing what I was capable of but all along it wasn’t even me - you were the one responsible, they were your hands!” He pushed himself off the wall and walked close to Lu Han’s face to growl through a clenched jaw. “Was it worth it? Was strangling your own brother to death worth all the riches? Or do you lie awake at night haunted by the feeling of his life being sucked away under your fingertips? I shouldn’t have ran away. I should have told the world what a monster you are. Miss Jung-”
“Miss Jung won’t know a thing and neither will the rest of the world, I will make sure of it.”
Lu Han was the perfect predator, Sehun realised. His boyish charms and virginal face could lure even the brightest moths into the fire that blazed behind his eyes and singe the fragile tips of their wings. Sehun’s own had once felt tattered and broken - until he escaped to the other side of the world. Now, they had healed and he wasn’t about to let himself get burnt again; not by Lu Han, not by anyone.
He kept his chin high. “You can’t touch me. You won’t get away with it again. You can’t hurt m-”
The tip of his nose tingled at the scent of something foul…and burning. His eyes flew to the door and a subtle ribbon of smoke was coiling under the gap and oozing into the air, making it slightly hazy. Suddenly the running and clamouring outside that he’d heard made sense and fear raged under his skin when he realised what it meant.
Jongin was in danger.
At the sight of Sehun’s melted confidence, Lu Han’s mouth curled into a snarl. “Maybe I won’t have to.” The heir blinked away the irritation that began to sting at his eyes. “You saw this, didn’t you? You saw this fire - your eyes are giving it away. Who dies this time? Is it you? Or perhaps it’s your precious plaything, the other footman boy. Is that why you’re trembling?”
I have to get to Jongin, was all he could think about as his fist clenched. I have to save him.
“You could have made this so much easier for yourself.” Lu Han leant into his ear and purred: “could have ran further.”
A second later, Sehun took his chance and shoved hard at Lu Han’s chest before swinging his arm around and slamming his knuckles into the side of the heir’s perplexed face. The sharp corners of his bones collided with the soft skin and red flecked into the air while he scrambled to freedom. His feet slipped slightly on the stone floor but he propelled himself forward and the doorknob was barely inches from his outstretched grasp-
But a hand clawed at the back of his shirt and pulled him backwards. Sehun fell into Lu Han’s chest who’d wrapped his fingers around his throat with a tightening grip and the footman choked.
“We could have had something special, you and I,” Lu Han breathed menacingly. “I could have looked after you. You’ve brought this upon yourself, Sehun-ah.”
The next few moments flew past in a messy, thrashing blur as Lu Han slammed him into the wall and every bone in his body quaked from the pain. Hands gripped at his neck again and the fingers dug so sharply into his skin he was sure they’d draw blood. No matter how much he tried to tear at Lu Han’s arms and kick out at his shins, the lack of oxygen dotted stars into his vision and rendered his limbs weak and heavy. As the sound of pumping blood flooded his ears and the billowing smoke poisoned his lungs, Lu Han’s dark, hungry gaze bored deep into his skull and the world faded away.
Jongin…
Jong…in…
And everything went black.
♦♦♦
On and on the bells rang.
On and on feet trampled and people rushed.
Yet Jongdae remained unmoving.
Watching. Waiting.
Until Joonmyun finally opened his eyes.
The butler’s eyelids fluttered and he stared upwards at the high ceiling for a few moments, obviously a little disorientated. After a while, they widened in shock and his head turned to look frantically around the room. His gaze fell on Jongdae and his lips parted.
“Jongdae? W-what-?” Joonmyun went to move his arms but found them constricted, along with his legs. “I don’t…understand…” he croaked. His voice sounded rough like sandpaper. “Did you not read my diary?”
“You know?” asked Jongdae with genuine surprise.
He nodded against the sheet. “When I opened the drawer and it was missing…well…nobody else in this house knows of its existence. I presumed you had taken it.”
Jongdae silently cursed himself for being so slow. He’d been convinced that he’d returned the book quickly enough for its disappearance to go unnoticed. However, that obviously wasn’t the case. Now his cheeks flushed with embarrassment but at least the truth was finally free after being caged for so long. The painful truth.
He swallowed through a dry throat. “Yes. I read it.”
Joonmyun glanced down at his wrists lashed together. “I don’t think you did. Not really.”
“I did. I read how you were disgusted by me, how you hated yourself for touching me in the first place.” Anger boiled again in Jongdae’s stomach, hot and bubbling, and he suddenly found himself on his feet. “Why did you even do it, huh? Why touch me at all if I repulse you so badly?”
“You don’t repulse me.”
“That’s not what you wrote,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“Read it again.”
Given the circumstance, Joonmyun’s voice remained calm and steady - friendly even - which only aggravated Jongdae a little more. Who was he to give orders after what he’d done? Who was he to say what was right or wrong when Jongdae had the power now?
Nevertheless, Jongdae’s eyes automatically flew to the drawer. He hesitated, unsure whether to move from his position. If he walked away, would Joonmyun make a break for the door? With his weary head and limbs bound so tightly, it was unlikely he’d get very far. He decided to risk it and give in to curiosity, prowling over to the desk and reaching into the drawer to grasp the tome of his downfall in his sweating palm.
“June 21st,” came a small voice.
Jongdae turned. “What?”
“June 21st, 1912,” Joonmyun uttered.
Over a year ago…?
He did as he was told and scanned the months while trying to keep his fingers steady. As Midsummer’s Eve appeared under his touch, he drew a shaky breath and let his eyes fall onto the page. The first line was enough to make him lose the air in his lungs altogether.
“I think I’m in love with him.”
He read those words over and over, barely able to remain standing.
“Today I watched him out in the gardens. I was jealous - jealous of the roses. Hell, I was jealous of the fingers of his hand. They could touch him whenever they pleased.”
Jongdae remembered this day. He’d strolled around the gardens collecting rose petals under the midday sun to slip into his enveloped letters since Joonmyun was allergic to the pollen and could never appreciate the flowers when they bloomed. He’d press the petals between hardbacks to render them crisp and make his secret desires smell like a garden in early summer.
He sighed at the faded memory and continued reading.
“The way the sunlight dances on his jet black hair, the upturned corners of his mouth even when he’s not smiling, the moles that dot his sharp jawline…Lord, it lights up my soul - all of it - and he’ll never know.”
“How do I survive feeling like this? How do I cope?”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Jongdae scanned more and more pages and found similar confessions etched into the paper. It wasn’t sinking in. Reality wasn’t making sense.
“This…this can’t be true…it can’t be…”
“It is, and has been for a long time. I’m… so sorry, Jongdae.”
Jongdae looked up. “F-for what?”
Joonmyun’s face fell with sadness. “Everything.” He nudged his head towards the foot of the bed. “Under there you’ll find a box. Open it.”
The valet did as he was told without a second thought. He was desperate for answers, desperate for a truth that could finally make sense. He knelt down and threw a hand under the bed where it collided with something solid. Jongdae pulled it out - it was a box, just as Joonmyun had promised. It was relatively small and, if he had to admit it, rather feminine in design. The remnants of a floral pattern had faded from its surface and the latch holding the lid down was rusted and weak. It lifted open to a feather-light touch.
Inside lay leafs of old paper with a single faded photograph perched on the top. Jongdae’s trembling fingers picked it up and held it in the air. It was a picture of a beautiful young woman.
“Who is this?”
“My wife.”
Jongdae’s head snapped up. Had he heard him correctly? “Your wife? W-where is she? Back in Seoul? Where?” He could barely keep his voice steady.
After a few long seconds of silence, Joonmyun finally breathed, “She’s dead.”
Silence.
“I never loved her. We married to appease our families, nothing more - or so I thought. But her feelings for me grew true and then a year later-” Pause. “She died of consumption. I was there in her final moments. The guilt eats me up inside that I never…I never returned her affections…”
He shifted his position on the bed and leaned up slightly on his elbow. “Love hasn’t been kind to me in the past. When my feelings for you began to surface, I couldn’t understand or accept it. I tried ignoring them altogether but…it was too difficult in the end. I couldn’t stay away from you. That night in the wine cellar…well, read it for yourself. Properly this time.”
Jongdae picked up the diary again and flicked forward a year in time to that summer. There, written as plain as day, were the words he had desired to read more than anything but Destiny had blinded them from him.
“Tonight was the greatest night of my life.”
“You loved me…” he uttered, barely louder than a whisper. “Y-you loved me all along…?”
Joonmyun lowered his head. “I really am so sorry. My own guilt held my tongue back from telling you the truth. Out of everything…I regret that the most now.”
Jongdae was rendered speechless. It took more than a few tense moments of staring between the photograph in his hand to the bound widower gazing back at him before he could speak at all.
“No…no this can’t be happening…”
The picture and diary fell from his fingertips and crashed to the floor as he raked his hands roughly through his hair. This was the reality he’d longed for - but not like this. He realised now, as though someone had lifted a veil from his eyes, that he’d twisted and mutated his desires into a monstrosity. Jealousy of Jongin and Sehun’s shared affections had consumed him and now the results of such a madness lay on the sheets in front of him…and was actually apologising. He lifted up his hands to turn them over and back again, almost expecting bloodied claws to appear where there were nails or scales to grow from under his skin.
What have I become?
Who could ever love…a monster?
The remaining colour suddenly drained from Joonmyun’s already pale cheeks. “Jongdae, l-look!”
He was staring, wide-eyed, in pure terror at the stream of smoke creeping under the door. All the while that they had been talking, the room had become progressively hazier but Jongdae hadn’t even noticed. His mind had been too preoccupied. Now the smell of burning engulfed his nostrils and tainted his mouth and Joonmyun started to gasp and cough violently.
“We have to go,” he cried between gasps, lifting up his wrists. “It isn’t too late - we can get out of here! Untie me and we’ll run for it! Together!”
Together…
Jongdae didn’t move.
There was no together. He didn’t deserve that paradise.
Not anymore.
♦♦♦
Jongin sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him; flying over the grass with blood pumping painfully hot in his veins while plumes of rising smoke stained the sky with charcoal. It rose from Foxcombe’s silhouette, blushed pink by the sunset, and began to blot the remaining, milky light that broke from behind the clouds. Every step that pounded against the ground sent a vibration of agony through his bones from running so hard and his lungs could barely suck in oxygen, but he couldn’t stop. The pain could wait. He had to make sure Sehun and Jongdae were safe first.
As he got closer, Jongin could make out the outline of people gathering in the house’s expansive driveway. They were huddled together and staring up at the towering fumes above while others ran from the entrance; hands over their mouths and spluttering. The taste of smoke hit the tip of Jongin’s tongue and he wretched as his eyes frantically scanned the crowd for Sehun or his brother’s faces.
Lord Wu was safe, as was his wife who he held against his chest while their glorious home burned before their eyes. Soonkyu, the lady’s maid, stood a little further back, sniffling, with Joohyun and Yi Xing staring in horror at the chaos. Mrs Kwon was comforting a scullery maid in tears and Soojung clung to Lu Han’s arm in terror. He had a bruise on the side of his face but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. When Jongin finally reached them, Jack leapt forward and into Kris’ outstretched arms and his face lit up with relief at the sight of his beloved furry friend.
“Where are they? Where are Jongdae and Sehun?” Jongin asked, barely able to catch his breath. “And Joonmyun? Where’s Mr Kim?”
Jessica looked a little affronted at the staff member wailing at her so suddenly and without permission but Kris stepped forward.
“Nobody has seen them. They must be still inside. If we wait, the services-”
“There’s no time, sir - I can’t wait. I’ll find them!”
“Wait! Jongin!” came Lord Wu’s bellowing call, but he didn’t listen.
Jongin drew a shaky breath and launched himself into the burning building.
Inside was hot, very hot. The fire had spread at an alarming rate and at the side of his blurry vision he could make out orange and red glowing through the smoky glare. Jongin ducked his head down to avoid the thickening smog and covered his lips with his palm. Without much of a thought, he flew across to the servant’s stairs where the door hung open and raced down to the basement.
Underground, it was much cooler as the flames hadn’t reached so far below but the smoke had, somehow. It lingered in the air and made his eyes sting and tears began to well.
“Jongdae! Sehun!” he screamed through his fingers. “Mr Kim! Is anyone down here?”
There was no answer.
Despite this, he didn’t give up hope. He kicked at his bedroom door but found the room behind it empty. He didn’t expect his brother to return to their old shared room but there was always a chance. Jongin moved on, crouched low, and felt his way through the haze which now hung much denser in front of his face and fingered the wall for Sehun’s door. He slammed his palm against it, calling out Sehun’s name over and over, until he finally found the door knob and it twisted easily in his grasp.
The back of his throat itched and forced his chest to tighten and cough painfully - but even through watery eyes, Jongin could make out Sehun’s dark outline on the floor and he immediately ran to crouch at his side.
“Sehun! Oh my God, Sehun, wake up! Please!” He shook at the boy’s shoulders, willing for his eyes to open. There were red marks dotted along his long neck and barely any colour in his lips.
But there was a heartbeat.
Time was running out. With all the strength he could muster, Jongin wound his arms around the boy’s chest and lifted him up to swing his limp form over his shoulder. But when Sehun’s head rocked back and his eyes flew open, he almost dropped him again in shock.
“Sehun, can you hear me? Sehun!” he cried out, slapping his cheeks.
He eventually came to and straightened out his long legs a little shakily. At the sight of Jongin’s face, he wearily brought his hands up to cup either the side of his head.
“Jongin, you’re okay! You’re alive!”
“Yes, I’m alive and thankfully so are you but we won’t be for long.” Jongin grabbed Sehun’s arm and brought it over his shoulders. “I have to find Jongdae and Joonmyun. Can you walk? I can carry you outside-”
“N-no, I’m coming with you!” said Sehun forcefully. He broke away from Jongin’s hold and staggered on the spot until his outstretched arm felt the wall. Jongin went to grab him again but he only slapped his hand away.
“Sehun, you can barely stand-”
“I’m not leaving you, dammit!” There was a stain of determination in his eyes that pierced through even the thickest smog plumes now rising in the room and, despite being desperately worried for his safety, Jongin’s heart couldn’t help but feel lighter.
“Alright, alright! Take my hand.” Jongin laced their fingers before using his free hand to cover his mouth again. “Stay close and keep as low to the ground as possible, understand?”
Sehun nodded and mirrored his movements. Bodies squatted towards the stone floor, they shuffled out of the room and down the corridor, back towards the servant’s stairs and entrance hall beyond. However, through the swelling haze that tortured the fleshy insides of their throats, the pulsing heat grew and grew until their temples began to sweat and, at the foot of the steps, they halted at the sight of flames blocking their way out at the top.
“We can’t go this way! Try the other stairs!” Jongin yelled, trying to keep his nerves as calm as possible for Sehun’s sake. At the same time, fear began to leak from every pore of his skin.
What if they couldn’t get out?
They ran up the spiral staircase to the first floor which housed Jongdae and Joonmyun’s rooms. All seem deserted behind the hot, murky air.
“Jongdae! Mr Kim!” they screamed. Sehun went to barge Joonmyun’s door down but Jongin quickly stopped him to save his health and did it in himself. It was empty. When they reached Jongdae’s door, it was locked.
“Jongdae! Are you in there?” Jongin cried, throwing his weight against it. It was determined not to budge so he stepped back to kick it down with all his remaining strength. It took more than a few powerful smashes of his foot against the wood to make it move but, eventually, it gave way and swung open violently on its hinges.
They both ran inside but froze in the doorway at the sight before them. Jongdae was stood with an open book and rusted box at his feet while Joonmyun lay on the bed, restrained by his wrists and ankles lashed together. It was possibly one of the last things Jongin expected to see.
“What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed as his jaw fell open. “Screw it, don’t answer that - you can tell me later. Just get yourselves out of here! C’mon!”
He leapt over the floor to tug at the ties cutting into Joonmyun’s skin and, with help from Sehun, they managed to heave a shaky butler to his legs and carry him out into the corridor.
“The servant’s quarters are blocked, we’ll have to take the main staircase! This way!”
Thankfully the door leading to Lord Wu’s wing was only short steps away and meant they didn’t have to contend with the rest of the burning corridor. Sehun almost stopped walking entirely at the sight of the fire now blazing brightly at the end of the hallway but Jongin’s shouting seemed to snap him out of his trance and they fled through the door just in time.
The mad rush through the building was a challenge, especially as Joonmyun’s head kept drooping and his feet were starting to drag. Jongin kept throwing Sehun worried glances in the hope he wouldn’t have two unconscious bodies to contend with anytime soon. Sehun was getting obviously weaker and slower but when the entrance hall came into view at the bottom of the grand stairs and Foxcombe’s front doors loomed behind the smog, he breathed a long, if slightly toxic, sigh of relief.
Until they reached the ground floor.
“Stop! Where’s Jongdae? He was right behind us!”
Jongin pivoted on the spot, looking around. His older brother wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Where had he gone?
He unlatched Joonmyun’s limp arm from around his shoulder. “I have to go back for him. Take Joonmyun and get outside! Now!”
“No!” Sehun shrieked, grabbing hold of his arm. “You can’t!”
Jongin cradled the boy’s face in his hands. “Sehun, I love you. Truly. You’re the most incredible thing to happen to me so I need you to go! I need to know you’ll be safe! This isn’t goodbye! I’ll be back, I promise!”
But something in Sehun’s mournful eyes told him he didn’t believe him.
♦♦♦
It had been an adventure; Jongin hadn’t lied about that.
But what other choice had he had?
In their last moment together, Jongdae slid the diary into Joonmyun’s precious box of memories and slipped it into his grasp as he ran out of the door. While the others had faded into the smoke clouds, Jongdae had paused at the sight of his brother’s retreating form and watched him disappear into nothing. He wasn’t going to follow. Not this time.
The fumes hit him hard and he bent over, wheezing and choking on soot-flecked mucus that rose in his throat. He’d made his decision and now the glowing flames that crept down the hallway and melted the embossed wallpaper were deciding his fate.
It really was a beautiful house; he could never deny that. Even now, as stumbled back into his room, the swirling details along the skirting board and around the door frame along with the elegant patterns etched onto the walls could not be ignored. He still remembered the moment he first stepped into Foxcombe with an excitable Jongin bouncing at his side and a single, half-empty suitcase clasped tightly in his hand - everything had seemed so grand and luxurious and foreign back then. The Wu family had barely moved in and many rooms were yet to be furnished but, still, Foxcombe had shined. It’s delicate elegance had been overwhelming; a little intimidating even. But Jongin had fed him hopes of an exciting new life with bright, blue skies on the horizon despite cold glares from the locals and an interesting climate to adjust to. It had been no surprise to hear Lady Wu sobbing in her quarters late at night because Jongdae had only ended up feeling the same way after a while. Now, two years since the beginning of his new life, the horizon glowed orange and hot enough to melt the memories of his heart’s other half and what he had done to him.
Love shouldn’t do that, not to anyone. Love wasn’t meant to destroy.
Jongin hadn’t completely broken the lock. It still worked. The door knob was still cool to touch but it wouldn’t be for long. Jongdae could barely see in front of him but he thought of this as a good thing as he slammed the door and shut himself inside. It only meant it would happen quicker. He grabbed the chest of drawers and heaved it in front of the entrance. By now every muscle in his body was aching and his head was ringing with pain from each heave of his chest and, soon, all he could do was crawl across the floor to the edge of his bed and slide his arm underneath the mattress to grab at the bundle of letters tied with string.
It wasn’t meant to be this way. It wasn’t meant to be this way at all.
Tears polluted with regret slid down his cheeks, carrying with them the individual memories of Joonmyun’s touch and the feel of his breath and the sound of his voice.
Then soft, sweet music began to play.
“See? It’s not difficult. You’re a natural.”
“Only when you’re holding me.”
As Jongdae hugged the letters to his chest, the letters he never got to send, all he heard was the music.
The soft, sweet music…
♦♦♦
He screamed out Jongdae’s name the entire way; bellowing it out into the smouldering space that caked his lungs with black. Jongin couldn’t understand it - had he fallen? Had he been left behind? Had be found somebody to rescue, somebody they hadn’t noticed?
Whatever the reason, Jongin found himself back on the first floor corridor after tracing their steps and clawing at the wall to keep upright. The smoke was finally getting to his head. He could feel it.
It was only a matter of time…but he had to find Jongdae.
Only his room was now shut and locked once more.
Which could only have meant-
“Jongdae, come out! I’m serious! We’re running out of time!” He kicked at the door again but it didn’t move. His strength was being sapped by the second. “I can’t do this without you! I can’t be here without you! You’re my brother, dammit! Blood or no blood!”
Soon he was heaving every limb against the hard surface in a pathetic attempt to defeat his only real obstacle.
But nobody was letting him through.
“Jongdae, please! I NEED YOU! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”
Boom, boom, boom, went his clenched fists against the wood now flecked with red. He forced a hand around the doorknob and pulled as hard as he could, rattling the metal with little success. Wild shapes were beginning to dance behind his eyes and nausea was bubbling from the taste of charcoal.
“You promised you wouldn’t leave me!” he cried as salty tears began to sting. “You promised it would be us, together! JONGDAE! YOU PROMISED!”
Each slap of his palm and kick of his toes went unheard and soon he barely possessed the strength to lift his arms up but he persevered through the panic that ripped his soul apart.
“Help! HELP!” Jongin shouted. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! PLEASE!”
The crackling flames had crept dangerously close and singed every inch of the walls black and sinister. Delusions swam around his head from the lack of oxygen and painted dark faces that leered at his face through the storm of smoke plumes. Heat licked at his ears and curled around his throat like a serpent and brought Jongin to his knees. He couldn’t see anything. Everything was cloudy.
It was getting hotter…
It was getting hazier…
And the burning pain started at his ankles…
Except it was less of a burning pain and more of a sharp clench of jaws around his feet.
Slobbery jaws.
Jongin opened his eyes only a slither and Jack’s wet nose was prodding and shoving his legs between gnashes of his teeth against his skin. He snapped his jaws around the bottom of Jongin’s trousers and pulled backwards, tearing slightly at the fabric but willing him to move. He was still wearing his lead.
Jongin linked his fingers onto the loop and let the dog steer him out of the building with legs that could scarcely hold his weight. Whenever he stopped or lost his balance, Jack would pause before leading him on. Too much of the world was swimming and humming for Jongin to make sense of what was happening. Reality laced with hot smoke had numbed him from it all.
Cool air washed over his face. Gravel grated his cheek. Hands grabbed his waist and pushed him onto his back. Someone clenched his wrists.
“Jongin, look at me! Look at me!”
It was Sehun’s face staring down at him with cheeks stained wet and shining.
“It’s okay, Jongin, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ve got you.”
And so the boy held and rocked him in his arms while the building burned to ash.
Along with his only brother.
♦♦♦
She didn’t expect the locals to come, but they did. They came in their droves to stare in awe at the spectacle and chaos that seared the night sky and smeared it with red and gold. Jessica had flinched at a stranger’s touch but it was only the elderly vicar covering her shoulders with a blanket. The rest of the village was helping in any way they could: some were lugging baskets of food to offer Foxcombe’s lost employees. Some even offered spare beds in their houses for people to sleep on that night. Kris was in his element as he lavished the unexpected care and generosity of Harting’s inhabitants. It was amazing what could bring people together.
Jessica, however, stepped away from the fray. With a tilt of success on her lips, she savoured the fire’s glow on her skin. There were no summer rains tonight. Perhaps the Gods approved of her intentions. Her fingers still smelled of the alcohol she’s poured in Foxcombe’s dark corners and of the matches she’d lit to ignite it.
It had all been worth it, she thought to herself as she cradled her budding belly in her arms.
The freedom had been worth the price.
{ Epilogue }