Baby my heart beats for you (if it could) (4/?)
Title: Baby my heart beats for you (if it could) (4/?)
Characters: SHINee, Changmin(in this chapter)
Previous Chapters: http://clubotaku.livejournal.com/11828.html http://clubotaku.livejournal.com/12509.html http://clubotaku.livejournal.com/12888.html
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humour, Horror
Pairing: slight OnewxKey
Summary: AU. Jinki is all alone in a zombie infested world and in Singapore, the trees move in sync.
1.
Jinki jolts awake as the plane hits the runway, bouncing a little as Minho tries to keep the landing as clean as possible. For one second, Jinki has this horrible vision of the plane careening off the runway and into a control tower, exploding with them in it and never being able to tell his parents, dog, goldfish, Yoochun…Ok, maybe not Yoochun, that he loved them. Something pricks his elbow and he looks down to see Kibum, still asleep, one hand holding his arm and the other resting on his lap. Aww, he wants to coo, So cute, he’s like a little kitty. The smile that forms is an immediate reaction, his hand moving tentatively towards Kibum’s hair, hovering above for just a moment before lowering. Kibum’s eyes snap open (glaring, no less) and he grabs Jinki’s arm, twisting before yelling out a battle cry and throwing Jinki across the narrow aisle into the opposite wall. There’s barely any time to cry out before Jinki hits the wall with a pained whine, sliding down into a pathetic heap of Jinki mess. Kibum yawns, stretches, then pauses when he notices Jinki is no longer next to him. The heap whimpers and his eyes widen (from shock and the fact he’s re-applying eye serum-flying always screws with his pores).
“Sorry, reflex.”
He goes back to primping, powdering every godforsaken oily spot with powder, spritzing more than the necessary amount of Burberry The Beat behind his earlobes, neck and wrists (sensory spots!). Jinki’s head throbs and his shoulder doesn’t seem to be able to move, but complaining is futile and even if his shoulder is dislocated he’s positive Kibum would find great (sadistic) pleasure popping (shoving) it back in. Fingers trembling, he manages to form two fists from which to push himself up and, upon finding his legs functional, pushes himself up on all fours. A force knocks him rudely on the ass, which propels him forward, so he’s staring at Kibum’s pink trainers.
“Yes, you may lick my feet and no, I do not object to groveling,” says Kibum, fanning himself with a napkin.
From the doorway leading to the cockpit Minho stands, taking in the scene. Kibum is sitting regally on the plane seats, looking like he’s fresh out of a women’s men’s magazine. Minho doesn’t even know where the hell he got a can of Dr. Pepper from. Jinki on the other hand…Minho chooses to ignore the other boy in order to let him salvage whatever was left of his dignity. He looks like he’s suffered enough.
He walks (over Jinki) to the door, unlocks the latches and pushes it open. A wave of hot air and sunlight hits him; a wave of nostalgia. His sunglasses are hanging from the collar of his shirt and he brushes a hand back into his hair-which he feels is getting long, he needs a haircut or he’ll look like Cyndi Lauper at some point-and puts them on. Immediately the glare is gone, and he grabs his pack and jumps down onto the tarmac. Kibum in down in a flash, large backpack balanced on his wiry frame. The air shimmers before them in the intense heat; Changi Airport a grey block within reach, plenty of carrier planes still parked. Jinki pokes his head out the door and lets out a weary sigh, he’d been hoping that since Singapore was lower than Malaysia in regards to the Equator, it might have been just a little cooler. Having just seen the cool exits of his fellow travelers, Jinki attempts an equally smooth exit a la rugged Hollywood film stars. He manages to lug his backpack to the entrance of the plane-where he can see Minho standing, one hand holding back his hair whilst the other holds his pack, the wind blowing dust around his tall frame; Kibum also wearing those feminine sunglasses, pink sneakers luminous and leather pants reflecting all light-and tries to kick it off whilst attempting to open a can of beer (he’d stashed it before they left) with his teeth. Ideally, the pack would’ve fallen to the ground as Jinki opened the can with a cool ‘hiss’ sound like in all the commercials, before taking a gratuitous swig. Mr. Model Minho and Kibum would gasp in awe of Jinki’s awesomeness, and Kibum would throw his arms around him and declare Jinki his Idol. Since this was real life and not the happy place in Jinki’s head…
“ARGH!”
His foot catches on one of the straps as he kicks, so naturally when the pack falls off, so does he. His teeth make a ‘twang!” sound on the tab of the can as he tries to pull it off-he succeeds-and the other two watch as he falls to the ground with a fountain of beer erupting above and subsequently landing, on his head. Kibum bursts into laughter as Jinki wipes the hair out of his eyes and even Minho is twitching a little. Jinki stares at Minho, imploring him with his eyes not to laugh. Minho stares back with his abnormally large eyes, one of which is flickering uncontrollably before he turns away-“I’m your hyung! How can you do this to me?!”-and bends over to join Kibum in laughter.
The laughter stops when multiple clicks are heard, and suddenly guns are pointing at their brains. Kibum’s arm is halfway inside when the majority of the guns turn towards him and he pulls his arm, reluctantly, out. Jinki looks at Kibum, who is glaring at each visor-covered figure, before shifting closer. Minho on the other hand, looks totally relaxed and hey, thinks Jinki, none of the guns are pointed at him. Kibum has clearly noticed this too, as he turns to fix Minho with an icy glare, opening his mouth to let forth a barrage of what will no doubt be curses. Another tall figure approaches, clad in a snug suit (in this weather?!), Matrix-style sunglasses covering their eyes. Jinki feels very left out.
“Hyung,” says Minho, bowing respectfully.
Up close, the man is as tall, if not taller, than Minho. There’s a gun strapped to his waist and his brown hair is cut short, accentuating his cheekbones. Jinki also notices he has nice lips-not as nice as Kibum’s, but nice all the same. Obviously he’s been ignored in the genetic selection process as well. They are like eagles and I am but a puffin, he thinks forlornly, Unable to fly and waddling everywhere.
“K.L?” asks the man, hands tucked in his pockets.
Minho nods.
“Safe?”
Minho nods again. The guns come down and Jinki breathes, then spits out the dust he’s inhaled.
“What the Hell? Who are you people?” Kibum demands, putting on his pack and dragging Jinki off the ground, “Seriously, you can’t be older than 25.”
The man smirks, waving a few of the guards away.
“I’m head of security operations here and Head of Intelligence in Asia. But you are correct, I’m only 20.”
“Show-off,” mutters Kibum to Jinki, who can’t believe this guy is only one year older than him.
“You’ll have to go through some screening I’m afraid, standard procedure to make sure you’re…Clean. Your bags will be searched and screened too.”
Kibum’s grip tightens and his face hardens. Jinki knows he’s thinking of the gun inside his pack, one bullet missing from the chamber.
“We’re not terrorists, we’re survivors. You can’t treat us like this,” says Kibum, folding his arms. A stare-down ensues.
“I’m in charge of operations here and I say everyone who lands goes through screening. Even Minho will go through.”
By this time, Minho has made it to the shelter of the terminal, a long speck in the distance. Kibum digs his heels into the ground, dropping his pack. The guards tense.
“We just survived a freaking no-exit situation, almost got blown to bits yesterday and he”
He shoves Jinki forward and he stumbles, tangling his feet with each other before falling onto a guard,
“is mentally unsound.”
“ASKDLGJAH?” says Jinki.
“Exactly.” Kibum stands his ground. The other boy is silent, but then his shoulders shake and he begins to laugh, a strange laugh that sounds more like a cackle. It looks totally strange to Jinki, this imposing suit-clad boy with the Neo sunglasses and tough demeanor, cracking up with tears rolling down his cheeks. He stops laughing.
“Security check, now!”
Kibum shrieks indignantly as two guards grab his arms and hoist him onto an airport buggy, dumping their packs behind him. Jinki is lifted by the guard he’s fallen against, a little more gently (maybe he does believe Jinki is mentally retarded) and placed next to Kibum. Neo snaps his fingers and the buggy is off.
“Teenagers; always so emotional. I left that all behind when I turned sixteen,” says Neo, watching the buggy enter the terminal. He lets out another cackle. The guard closest to him lifts his visor to stare in disbelief.
“Dude, I saw you crying last night.”
Neo fixes him with one look and the guard shuts up.
“I was watching Schindler’s List, how can you not cry during Schindler’s List you ungrateful piece of”
Jinki reaches across to squeeze Kibum’s hand. Kibum doesn’t look at him, stony faced and unmoving, but he squeezes back.
2.
Two hours later, when Jinki has been probed and searched pretty much everywhere (including there), he is released. Minho is waiting outside the room and leads him to another door, revealing the inside of Terminal 3. There are people, real, healthy people, walking around outside. There are people shopping, people doing various jobs. A group of uniformed secondary kids walks past, chattering about normal, mundane school stuff and Jinki almost believes nothing has changed.
“What? How?” he mumbles. Minho smiles, relaxed as they pad across the carpet.
“So far the government has managed to keep the infection out-you’ve just experienced how. They’re on hyper-alert though and most people who can afford it have left, or been evacuated by the authorities. They’re working on evacuating normal citizens until the surrounding territories have been deemed safe.”
The speakers overhead announce a flight to Melbourne is about to depart, could Mr. Wong please come to the gate.
“How…I mean, why are you still here?”
Minho continues walking, taking long strides that force Jinki to double his pace.
“I got things to do here…I need to help find people-like you two-and get them to safety. My father is also a pilot remember, he’s currently flying commercial planes to get people out. When I met you in the shopping centre it was part of a recovery trip-the other humans were survivors I happened to meet.”
Minho seems so confident, so secure and Jinki asks the question he’s been wanting to ask ever since this whole thing started.
“Is Korea still safe?”
Minho nods. It feels like fireworks are exploding in his heart, he wants to sing and dance, he wants to grab Kibum in a bear-hug and-Kibum. Where’s Kibum?!
“Where’s Kibum?” he asks Minho, who is now closing the door of the van. The driver locks the door and Minho settles back into the plush leather seats, black against black.
“Hyung,” says Minho in his deep, calm voice, “He’s just being questioned about what happened up in Thailand-they just want to find out how it started. They’re hoping that whatever information Kibum tells them can be used in research to combat and prevent the infection.”
Jinki settles a little, but chews his lip nervously. Kibum’s pack faces him in the van.
“Will he be ok? I mean, I know he’s all prickly and can be a bit of a diva at times (ok, most of the time) he’s actually a really, really nice personandIdon’tthinkhemeansithe’sprobablyhadabadtime’
“Hyung.”
Minho seems to have edged closer to the window during Jinki’s babbling but maintains his composure all the same. Jinki envies his long legs.
“He’ll be fine. We’re almost at the apartment where we’ll be staying-he’ll join us later.”
Jinki blinks.
“You’re living with us?”
Minho shrugs, brings out a book and flicks it open.
“I think you’ll need some company and a guide while you’re here. Plus,” he gives such an honest smile here, so hopeful and happy at once it reminds Jinki of himself, “It’s good to have some company.”
3.
Kibum comes back later, sullen and testy. Jinki opens the door when he pounds on it, shuffles back to let the younger boy storm inside.
“Room?”
“There,” says Jinki, pointing. Kibum disappears through the open doorway and it slams shut soon after, making Jinki jump. Minho’s head pops out from the kitchen.
“Changmin-hyung can be a little abrasive sometimes.”
Like someone else I know, is what Jinki would reply but out of politeness and worry he says nothing, giving a shaky smile before joining Minho to watch TV. If Kibum doesn’t want to say anything he won’t bug him…Though judging by his previous track record, when Kibum gets pissed, Kibum rants and makes sure the whole world knows just who he’s pissed at. Sure enough, the door swings open and Kibum comes out, stopping in front of the TV. Jinki whines and looks pathetically with the biggest puppy dog eyes he can muster at Kibum, they’re in the middle of Hannah Montana.
“Oh cry me a river,” snaps Kibum, and kicks the TV off.
Minho sighs and gets up. Once he’s made it past Kibum he gives Jinki a pityingly look and a half-hearted ‘hwaiting!’ gesture, before closing the bedroom door. The ominous sound of the lock reverberates thought the apartment and Kibum is a solid wall between Jinki and the door. Jumping out of the window is not an option (33rd floor on a high-rise); shimmying down the drain-pipe has been proven a terrible idea.
“Sorry?” says Jinki, giving his best smile. It looks more like a grimace.
Kibum grunts and flops down dramatically onto the couch, legs sprawled all over Jinki’s lap, one hand over his forehead. The other is carving patterns into the wall with his knife. The Jaws theme erupts in Jinki’s mind and he wipes off a bead of sweat.
“How was it?” he feels the need to ask, silence pushing down on him. It feels wrong to hear Kibum silent.
“Well,”
The knife is carving something that looks suspiciously like fucktard,
“It was a waste of my life and that pompous neo-Nazi asked that most obvious questions,”
Kibum rolls his eyes,
“I mean seriously, how the fuck do I know how this started? I barely remember anything that happened,”
Jinki doesn’t believe him though he wants to, keeps smiling encouragingly despite this fact,
“Argh, I’m just so stressed out, they scanned my freaking underwear! Do these leather pants look like I have room to stuff anything in them (other than what I’ve been blessed with); I’m not even wearing underwear right now! Leather chaps!”
Kibum stabs the couch and Jinki winces at the imagery. His mind wanders to a happier place, where Kibum is not wearing underwear and happily prancing in a flower-filled meadow, hand-in-hand with Jinki. OhmyGodwhat?! says his inner mind and Jinki snaps out of it, slapping himself repeatedly for thinking such sinful things. Kibum raises one eyebrow and slaps him.
“Stop it; I’m talking about my problems, God, why can’t you listen to me for once? You’re so selfish, you really are; I’ve been nothing but a Saint to you and this is how you treat me Jinki?” He finishes with a huff, crossing his arms and looking expectantly at him. Jinki is at a loss, brain failing to come up with any (safe) good ideas that might pacify Kibum. Luckily, Minho emerges right before Kibum finishes throttling Jinki.
“Anyone want to come food shopping with me?”
Kibum turns his head slowly, reminding Minho of the girl from the Exorcist. It kinda freaks him out, just a little.
“Did you say…Shopping?”
4.
“You know, when I said food shopping I thought we were actually going to buy food,” says Minho, a little grumpy.
Kibum is practically skipping through the near-empty department store.
“Hold on, geez, you’re so impatient! Just because we’re survivors doesn’t mean we need to look like Lady Gaga.”
Jinki’s feet are throbbing and his arms ache from the weight of the bags, pile upon pile of clothes that Kibum has tried and/or rejected fresh in his mind and evident on his arms. Somehow, Minho has managed to escape this job (he really wants to know why); Kibum only gave the bags to him. It’s been five hours of straight clothes shopping and Kibum has managed to go through two gigantic stores, bypassing the light at the end of the tunnel, the large Borders bookstore. Jinki weeps at his loss; he had seen the latest issue of the American Maths Journal on sale as well as the book about astrophysics that everyone was raving about.
“People rave about astrophysics?” asks Minho, brow furrowed. Jinki despairs, the boy still looks like a poster for Abercrombie and Fitch. Or CK…Kibum likes CK. He then realizes he spoke aloud and his eyes widen. Kibum chooses to ignore them both, currently debating over stars or stripes on an over-sized cardigan. He chooses stars, to complement his true purpose in life. As an afterthought he grabs the stripes-if he doesn’t like it he’ll give it to Jinki. He’s always liked helping those less fortunate then he (and let’s face it, who isn’t, less fortunate than he?).
“Hey, what time do the shops close here?”
Minho is silent, a battle over whether to lie or tell the truth raging inside him. He doesn’t know how much more of this inane activity he can take-his feet are itching to do something active and manly. He looks at Jinki, the older boy staring despondently at the sky, muttering nonsense and equations to himself. Lie, says his mind.
“7pm,” he replies. Shit, the store times are over there, please don’t see, please don’t see…
Kibum is scandalized.
“7?! 7?! That’s an abomination, they should close at least at 8pm! Dongdaemun is open 24 hours! I only need a coffee break after six hours!”
“Shops in the UK and Australia close at five usually,” adds Jinki, trying to calm Kibum down. He looks briefly at Minho-he’s spotted the store times too.
“We’d better stop at the supermarket before going back,” says Minho, “I need to buy more cup ramyun.”
A wicked glint enters Kibum’s eye.
“Cup ramyun? Now that we’re (supposedly) safe with unlimited resources? Forget it, I’m cooking and you two…No, just you Minho, will help.”
He dumps his latest purchase onto Jinki who staggers under the weight and sweeps out of the store into Orchard Road (“My new favourite place! God, I could live here!”), barking out a command as he goes underground. Minho and Jinki breathe a sigh of relief and Minho eyes Jinki’s load.
“…Need some help?”
“NO SLACKING!” Kibum’s voice echoes up the passageway that lines the escalator and they both jump. Minho pats Jinki on the back.
“I respect you hyung,” he says consolingly. A watery smile forms on Jinki’s face, finally, he’s earned some respect. He steps on the elevator feeling re-energized and steps off…A little too early. Minho counts this as the second lie he’s told today.
5.
The neo-Nazi had lead Kibum to a room, far away from the main terminal. He’d been shoved rudely onto a buggy by some guards and hand-cuffed, and then gagged halfway through the ride as an afterthought. The rest of the ride was spent plotting the demise of said guards and neo-Nazi, who was cackling with the driver of the buggy. They reached a large building situated near the sea and Kibum was blind-folded and led, struggling and kicking down endless corridors where the only thing he could hear was their footsteps, echoing and resonating in his head. Once in a while he heard little beeps and blings; felt them enter a lift. This place had major security, that was for sure. The G.L.E.E club would’ve had a field day in here…No, he thought firmly, don’t think about them. Focus on getting out of here and kicking this guy’s bony ass. You’re more fabulous than him. Finally, the blindfold came off and he was placed in a chair. The neo-Nazi sat down opposite him, crossing one long leg over the other and placing his hands on the table. He smiled disarmingly at Kibum, who spits at him.
“What is this, Guantanamo Bay? I’m not a freaking criminal you power-hungry asswipe!”
The other boy remained unruffled.
“My name is Shim Changmin and I’ve already introduced my job. I just want to ask a few simple questions.”
“Like hell!” cried Kibum, “Where are the others?”
Changmin traced a pattern idly. Kibum caught a whiff of cologne-Drakkar Noir. Eugh, bastard had good choice in cologne too.
“Probably waiting for you in the designated apartment. Now, what happened in Thailand?”
Kibum’s first instinct was to freeze and say nothing but he knew that would only encourage further questions. He was not going to say anything, he would never say anything.
“How the hell do you know I was in Thailand?”
Changmin rolled his eyes.
“I’m head of Asian Intelligence, it’s my business to know, Kim Kibum.”
His eyes bore into Kibum, who forced himself to look defiantly back. I’m not telling you anything.
“I know you were in Thailand before Minho and Lee Jinki met you, just as I know Jinki was in the rainforest on a school trip.”
Kibum hoped Jinki is not undergoing the same thing because God knows, the idiot would probably pee himself and start babbling nonsense until someone sedated him.
“Thailand is where this all happened, starting on the island of Phuket, where you were.”
He leaned back in the chair, watching. There’s a large mirror behind him; Kibum wanted to roll his eyes at the stupidity of it all, he’s not an idiot, he knows they’re recording everything, analyzing his every move.
“Look, I was there, zombies appeared, I ran. I don’t know anything else.”
Kibum slumped back in his chair, flipped his feet up onto the table where they landed with a clang. Changmin was unimpressed.
“So you knew they were zombies?”
“Well when a head flies past you and the body is still moving, no blood spurting out of anywhere, wouldn’t you think it’s a little strange?”
Changmin continued.
“Were you with anyone?”
“No.”
Silence. Changmin eyed him for a minute.
“So you went to Phuket by yourself. And you left by yourself, alone, one underage boy travelling from Seoul to Phuket to Kuala Lumpur. Brave boy,” he smiles, Kibum glares, he’s playing with him.
“Fuck you, I have my own money. I didn’t need to raid the reject store for some suit from the 80’s and costume sunglasses.”
Changmin leaned forward, still smiling. Kibum wanted to slap the confident smile off his face and paste it on himself.
“So you don’t happen to know what happened to any other hotel guests? Or how the infection spreads?”
“I didn’t stick around to witness the full massacre and ripping of bodily parts and organs to know. Sorry,” he bit out.
“Yes,” said Changmin pensively, “Yes, you should be. Well, that’s all for today.”
Kibum gaped for just a second before regaining his composure, mouth curling up to sneer at the other.
“What do you mean, today? I’m not coming back here.”
Changmin paused in the doorway, didn’t bother to turn around.
“Actually you are, we’re not done yet, Key.”
The door slid shut and Kibum was left alone with his thoughts in the white room, just him and his reflection. Fuck you.
Now, he sat alone, staring out of the window. From this height he could see the beginnings of the coast of Indonesia, a thin line on the horizon. Below him was an empty street, no people, no cars. It irked him, how the trees here seemed to move in sync with the wind, how orderly everything was. How controlled. Minho was taking a shower and Jinki was outside, watching a music special where boys dressed up as girls and sang moronic songs about wishes and love. If Kibum had a won for every lovesick fool who thought their heart went dugundugundugun when they fell in love, he’d been a rich man. And the first thing I’d do would be to buy Dior’s latest collection, he thinks, And become head of Asian Intelligence and lock that cocky ass somewhere inhabitable.
“Kibum?”
Jinki is beside him and Kibum jumps, slapping him in response. His fingers ache-nail marks evident in the plastic frame of the window. Jinki is worried, hands clutching the sides of his new sweatpants (Kibum takes a moment to admire his excellent choice, purple really suits him) and a frown on his face. Kibum wants to shake him back into his usual cheerful self but right now, can’t muster up the energy. Jinki yelps at the slap, shuffling cautiously forward looking more like a puppy than ever. Kibum turns his attention back to the outside, focusing on everything and nothing. His fists clench at the memories and he closes his eyes, choosing to channel his energy into calming down. Jinki watches as Kibum closes his eyes, shuts them tight and leaves into his own little world.
“You know…You can talk to me. I won’t tell anybody,” says Jinki, more for his own benefit than Kibum’s. He just really needs to say something to Kibum, anything to get Kibum talking.
“I’ll always be here,” he adds, “As your wise hyung, available for all academic and emotional help…Um, maybe not girl-related, I’m a little bad with them, but you know, anytime, anywhere, call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me?”
“Shut up,” says Kibum, one eye cracking open, “Just shut up and stay here.”
His hand reaches out to tug Jinki closer so they’re standing, side by side; Kibum’s head falls onto Jinki’s shoulder, eyes closed as he breathes, turning until his head is buried between Jinki’s neck and hair. Jinki pulls his hand free and moves it up Kibum’s back, weaves it around his shoulder and whoops silently when the other doesn’t protest. His heart goes dugundugundugun when Kibum threads his arm around his waist. Behind them, Minho decides to wait a little longer before retrieving his clothes and retreats back into the bathroom.
Key
A/N: I apologise if this chapter seems rushed...hoo~I'm tired. School starts soon, eugh. Thank you for the lovely comments on the last chapter, I hope this one lived up to your expectations and it seems this will be longer than 5 chapters ^^; I have too much I want to write. Happy new year! Props to anyone who spotted the Wicked reference. Comments are love (like always) <3