Lost Boys [2/?]
Title: Lost Boys
Character: Changmin-centric, but everyone's going to appear in it.
Length: 2/?
Rating/Genre: G for this chapter, but I would say PG in general; it's AU haha.
Summary: “The only son of one of South Korea’s most prominent political figures, Mr. Shim Chang Wook, has been reported missing since early today."
Two
The first night is eventful.
“I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong. Thanks for the camera. Hope you have a grand time with your little adventure. Have a pleasant day!”
Changmin had attempted to chase him, but it was as though the man had been swallowed by the Earth whole. With both his heart and his mind racing he had run up and down, across and out of the station with the vain hope of seeing a flash of scarlet or a glimpse of the smirk that had imprinted itself onto his mind, only to be met by the sight of hundreds of nameless faces that pushed and moved him relentlessly to the side upon the arrival of each train. Dejected, he gives up the search for another day, dizzy with confusion and disbelief. He can’t believe his luck; his first time to use public transportation and already he gets stolen from. He figures he must have set a regional record.
“I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong. Thanks for the camera…”
It rains at half past the hour and ice-cold droplets start falling in sheets from a cloudless (and starless) winter sky. Changmin finds immediate shelter under the sloping roof of a busy bus stop, squeezing in amongst businessmen and ajummas who are more than a little eager to get onboard anything that will take them a mile closer to home.
“I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong…”
Even if the rain hasn’t let up, he braces himself and rushes forward to hail a cab, desperate to push through with what was supposed to be his foolproof plan. The cab driver yells at him for seating his soppy self on the leather interior but shuts up when several bills are waved in front of his face. The name of the sauna he wishes to go to (his handwriting is absurd; he can barely read it at all!) comes out with obvious difficulty but it doesn’t take long for them to finally get a move on. Changmin keeps his gaze on the outside, watching as Seoul’s city lights streak yellow and white across the dampened windows.
“I’m Jaejoong-”
A report comes on over the radio, releasing a crackle of static before bursting into life.
“The only son of one of South Korea’s most prominent political figures, Mr. Shim Chang Wook, has been reported missing since early today. Details have not been given out by the father as it still has to be determined whether foul play or voluntary actions have taken place, but the police are assuring him the safe return of his son…”
Something inside of Changmin aches and he tells the cab driver to stop the car. The driver throws him an incredulous look.
“Are you crazy? We’re right over the Han!”
“Let me out as soon as we’ve crossed it. I’ll pay you double.”
It’s there that the foolproof plan is dashed, and Changmin finds himself alone, in the dark, half-drenched by the rain, making his way blindly from the road to the shelter under the bridge, his sneakers and coat ending up splattered with mud and grime and his hair getting plastered to his face.
The darkness under the bridge is so thick it’s almost tangible, and Changmin attempts with a shiver to start a primitive fire (thank Buddha for boy scout lessons) with a set of waterproof matches and a bunch of his old Algebra test papers that he’s fished out from the bottom of his backpack.
He’s looking for me, he thinks, he’s looking for me but he’s not going to get me. Never. Not in a million years.
He manages a small fire which sputters and crackles weakly within the protection of his cupped hands. When he’s sure it isn’t going to die on him, he fishes out some rations (milk, a bag of cookies, some kimbap) and starts eating, his gaze locked onto the flickering fire. Above him, he hears and feels the city as it continues to roar with life, the buzz and drone of cars going up and down the Hangang bridge, filling his ears as something so incredibly foreign for the first time in his life.
He doesn’t miss the warm comfort of his bed (or maybe he’s just fooling himself), or anything related to home, but he doesn’t deny that he’s fearful (who knows what lurks in and around Seoul once the city lights are extinguished?), not to mention cold and hungry. Emotions prickle inside of him but he brushes it away quickly (there is absolutely no room for emotion right now), focusing his attention and energy towards keeping the fire alive instead. He whispers a prayer to anyone who is listening, mumbling out a feeble “Please keep me safe” through his shivering lips. Somewhere between creating another foolproof plan and wondering what step to take next, Changmin gathers his legs to his chest and gives himself up to sleep, dreaming of scarlet coats and pale-faced men, tear tracks running dry down the sides of his face.
He manages to survive like that for two more days, dodging constantly well-known open places as well as places with lots of bright lighting (“Police are constantly on the lookout for the Shim heir-”). He can’t say he’s getting used to this new lifestyle of waking up hungry and being constantly damp, but he’s determined, and determination pushes him to take showers in abandoned bathrooms, using as little of the shampoo and soap he’s packed, and be contented with having only packets of biscuits for all three meals (he nearly vomited the first time he tried, but he’s trying).
He buys new clothes with the money he withdrew from his account the day he ran away, nothing too expensive, but enough to keep him clean, warm and dry. He figures he’ll find a way to get to the airport unnoticed, buy a plane ticket and jet his way towards the opposite end of the world (can’t be that hard can it, now that he’s alone? He isn’t that spoiled and ignorant), away from his father’s grasp. He hasn’t given up the search for his camera though and he finds himself in the train station once again, one last time that he’s going to allow himself to before he fully gives up, before (although it breaks his heart into tiny tiny pieces) fully deeming the camera as something he will never see again.
He heads into the convenience store first, feeling the familiar pains that plague his stomach, and gathers a few cartons of banana milk. He’s closing the cooler door with a slight kick when he notices another boy, slightly older than him, hoarding the same amount of food from a different cooler. After several moments of watching, Changmin realizes that most of the food being gathered is going into pockets within the greatcoat the boy is wearing.
“Hey-” Changmin starts, but stops when the boy looks at him, his eyes wide at having been caught, but the twinkle in them bright and non-threatening; pleading, even.
“Hush!” The boy says, still crouching. A hand shoots up and Changmin is startled as he feels himself being pulled downwards to be at level with the boy; he never expected the boy to be so strong. “Yoochun is ill so we need as much food as we can. I’ll pay for some but I can’t pay for all of them so it’ll be a really big help if you keep quiet about all this.”
Changmin is not threatened at all, but the urge to tell on the boy quickly vanishes from him like smoke. He nods and a smile, bright, warm and genuine, lights the other boy’s features.
“You’re a pal. Now get up and let me pay before anyone gets suspicious.” A pat on the back and both are on their feet again.
“Wait wait…how about I help you pay for everything you want to get? I mean…if you really need it and all, I could help you…” He is surprised at himself at the sudden proposal, but feels a strong urge to follow through with it. Who is this Yoochun and why is he ill? Who is this boy that is resorting to stealing to get him proper nourishment? The other boy’s eyes grow wide and glee becomes apparent in his features.
“You would? Are you serious?” He starts to clap but the small mountain of banana milk and chocolate milk cartons threaten to topple from his arms. Changmin nods.
“Here, let me give you a hand…” They make their way towards the counter and on the way Changmin grabs even more food: chips, apples, biscuits, bread. The man by the cash register raises at them a weary eyebrow as they set down the pile of food. At the sight of the money in Changmin’s hand however, the eyebrow inches downward and is replaced by a smile.
“You boys have a great day,” the man tells them and hands them two large bags full of food. Changmin hands it to the other boy who crows with utter delight upon receiving it.
“Wait ‘til Yunho hears about this. He’s going to flip.” The boy is talking a mile a minute now. He’s slightly smaller than Changmin although obviously older. A frayed black scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck and the greatcoat he is wearing is missing more than a few buttons (someone, however, has been resourceful enough to keep the coat closed with the help of a few safety pins). On his feet are sneakers that look as though they’ve seen better days, and his jeans are torn, revealing the milky white skin of his legs.
“…and Jaejoong! Anyway, I’m glad to have met you, perhaps I’ll see you again? My name is Junsu by the way, but I really have to go since Yoochun’s probably waiting. We’ll pay you back somehow, I’m sure, Yunho doesn’t like not returning favors. How old are you anyway?”
Thrown off from his train of thought, Changmin blinks once before he answers. “Eighteen, I’m eighteen.” What was his name? Junsu?
Another burble of glee escapes from Junsu’s lips, reminding Changmin of the sound of rushing water. He smiles at the sound. “Eighteen! My my, you’re young! You’d have to call me hyung, then! And I thought I was young between the four of us. I’m only twenty. Yoochun is twenty one and so is Yunho. Jaejoong is twenty-two though.”
The name snags on Changmin’s memory, like a piece of fur caught in barbed wire. He looks at Junsu, opens his mouth to ask, but the boy is already waving, already rushing away, his fingers red from gripping the two heavy bags placed in his hands.
“I’ll see you again, I’m sure! Goodbye for now!”
And, like Jaejoong before him, Junsu vanishes among the crowd, the only evidence of his presence ever being there being the high-pitched childish laughter that still echoes in Changmin’s ears.
TBC
Character: Changmin-centric, but everyone's going to appear in it.
Length: 2/?
Rating/Genre: G for this chapter, but I would say PG in general; it's AU haha.
Summary: “The only son of one of South Korea’s most prominent political figures, Mr. Shim Chang Wook, has been reported missing since early today."
Two
The first night is eventful.
“I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong. Thanks for the camera. Hope you have a grand time with your little adventure. Have a pleasant day!”
Changmin had attempted to chase him, but it was as though the man had been swallowed by the Earth whole. With both his heart and his mind racing he had run up and down, across and out of the station with the vain hope of seeing a flash of scarlet or a glimpse of the smirk that had imprinted itself onto his mind, only to be met by the sight of hundreds of nameless faces that pushed and moved him relentlessly to the side upon the arrival of each train. Dejected, he gives up the search for another day, dizzy with confusion and disbelief. He can’t believe his luck; his first time to use public transportation and already he gets stolen from. He figures he must have set a regional record.
“I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong. Thanks for the camera…”
It rains at half past the hour and ice-cold droplets start falling in sheets from a cloudless (and starless) winter sky. Changmin finds immediate shelter under the sloping roof of a busy bus stop, squeezing in amongst businessmen and ajummas who are more than a little eager to get onboard anything that will take them a mile closer to home.
“I’m Jaejoong. Youngwoong Jaejoong…”
Even if the rain hasn’t let up, he braces himself and rushes forward to hail a cab, desperate to push through with what was supposed to be his foolproof plan. The cab driver yells at him for seating his soppy self on the leather interior but shuts up when several bills are waved in front of his face. The name of the sauna he wishes to go to (his handwriting is absurd; he can barely read it at all!) comes out with obvious difficulty but it doesn’t take long for them to finally get a move on. Changmin keeps his gaze on the outside, watching as Seoul’s city lights streak yellow and white across the dampened windows.
“I’m Jaejoong-”
A report comes on over the radio, releasing a crackle of static before bursting into life.
“The only son of one of South Korea’s most prominent political figures, Mr. Shim Chang Wook, has been reported missing since early today. Details have not been given out by the father as it still has to be determined whether foul play or voluntary actions have taken place, but the police are assuring him the safe return of his son…”
Something inside of Changmin aches and he tells the cab driver to stop the car. The driver throws him an incredulous look.
“Are you crazy? We’re right over the Han!”
“Let me out as soon as we’ve crossed it. I’ll pay you double.”
It’s there that the foolproof plan is dashed, and Changmin finds himself alone, in the dark, half-drenched by the rain, making his way blindly from the road to the shelter under the bridge, his sneakers and coat ending up splattered with mud and grime and his hair getting plastered to his face.
The darkness under the bridge is so thick it’s almost tangible, and Changmin attempts with a shiver to start a primitive fire (thank Buddha for boy scout lessons) with a set of waterproof matches and a bunch of his old Algebra test papers that he’s fished out from the bottom of his backpack.
He’s looking for me, he thinks, he’s looking for me but he’s not going to get me. Never. Not in a million years.
He manages a small fire which sputters and crackles weakly within the protection of his cupped hands. When he’s sure it isn’t going to die on him, he fishes out some rations (milk, a bag of cookies, some kimbap) and starts eating, his gaze locked onto the flickering fire. Above him, he hears and feels the city as it continues to roar with life, the buzz and drone of cars going up and down the Hangang bridge, filling his ears as something so incredibly foreign for the first time in his life.
He doesn’t miss the warm comfort of his bed (or maybe he’s just fooling himself), or anything related to home, but he doesn’t deny that he’s fearful (who knows what lurks in and around Seoul once the city lights are extinguished?), not to mention cold and hungry. Emotions prickle inside of him but he brushes it away quickly (there is absolutely no room for emotion right now), focusing his attention and energy towards keeping the fire alive instead. He whispers a prayer to anyone who is listening, mumbling out a feeble “Please keep me safe” through his shivering lips. Somewhere between creating another foolproof plan and wondering what step to take next, Changmin gathers his legs to his chest and gives himself up to sleep, dreaming of scarlet coats and pale-faced men, tear tracks running dry down the sides of his face.
He manages to survive like that for two more days, dodging constantly well-known open places as well as places with lots of bright lighting (“Police are constantly on the lookout for the Shim heir-”). He can’t say he’s getting used to this new lifestyle of waking up hungry and being constantly damp, but he’s determined, and determination pushes him to take showers in abandoned bathrooms, using as little of the shampoo and soap he’s packed, and be contented with having only packets of biscuits for all three meals (he nearly vomited the first time he tried, but he’s trying).
He buys new clothes with the money he withdrew from his account the day he ran away, nothing too expensive, but enough to keep him clean, warm and dry. He figures he’ll find a way to get to the airport unnoticed, buy a plane ticket and jet his way towards the opposite end of the world (can’t be that hard can it, now that he’s alone? He isn’t that spoiled and ignorant), away from his father’s grasp. He hasn’t given up the search for his camera though and he finds himself in the train station once again, one last time that he’s going to allow himself to before he fully gives up, before (although it breaks his heart into tiny tiny pieces) fully deeming the camera as something he will never see again.
He heads into the convenience store first, feeling the familiar pains that plague his stomach, and gathers a few cartons of banana milk. He’s closing the cooler door with a slight kick when he notices another boy, slightly older than him, hoarding the same amount of food from a different cooler. After several moments of watching, Changmin realizes that most of the food being gathered is going into pockets within the greatcoat the boy is wearing.
“Hey-” Changmin starts, but stops when the boy looks at him, his eyes wide at having been caught, but the twinkle in them bright and non-threatening; pleading, even.
“Hush!” The boy says, still crouching. A hand shoots up and Changmin is startled as he feels himself being pulled downwards to be at level with the boy; he never expected the boy to be so strong. “Yoochun is ill so we need as much food as we can. I’ll pay for some but I can’t pay for all of them so it’ll be a really big help if you keep quiet about all this.”
Changmin is not threatened at all, but the urge to tell on the boy quickly vanishes from him like smoke. He nods and a smile, bright, warm and genuine, lights the other boy’s features.
“You’re a pal. Now get up and let me pay before anyone gets suspicious.” A pat on the back and both are on their feet again.
“Wait wait…how about I help you pay for everything you want to get? I mean…if you really need it and all, I could help you…” He is surprised at himself at the sudden proposal, but feels a strong urge to follow through with it. Who is this Yoochun and why is he ill? Who is this boy that is resorting to stealing to get him proper nourishment? The other boy’s eyes grow wide and glee becomes apparent in his features.
“You would? Are you serious?” He starts to clap but the small mountain of banana milk and chocolate milk cartons threaten to topple from his arms. Changmin nods.
“Here, let me give you a hand…” They make their way towards the counter and on the way Changmin grabs even more food: chips, apples, biscuits, bread. The man by the cash register raises at them a weary eyebrow as they set down the pile of food. At the sight of the money in Changmin’s hand however, the eyebrow inches downward and is replaced by a smile.
“You boys have a great day,” the man tells them and hands them two large bags full of food. Changmin hands it to the other boy who crows with utter delight upon receiving it.
“Wait ‘til Yunho hears about this. He’s going to flip.” The boy is talking a mile a minute now. He’s slightly smaller than Changmin although obviously older. A frayed black scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck and the greatcoat he is wearing is missing more than a few buttons (someone, however, has been resourceful enough to keep the coat closed with the help of a few safety pins). On his feet are sneakers that look as though they’ve seen better days, and his jeans are torn, revealing the milky white skin of his legs.
“…and Jaejoong! Anyway, I’m glad to have met you, perhaps I’ll see you again? My name is Junsu by the way, but I really have to go since Yoochun’s probably waiting. We’ll pay you back somehow, I’m sure, Yunho doesn’t like not returning favors. How old are you anyway?”
Thrown off from his train of thought, Changmin blinks once before he answers. “Eighteen, I’m eighteen.” What was his name? Junsu?
Another burble of glee escapes from Junsu’s lips, reminding Changmin of the sound of rushing water. He smiles at the sound. “Eighteen! My my, you’re young! You’d have to call me hyung, then! And I thought I was young between the four of us. I’m only twenty. Yoochun is twenty one and so is Yunho. Jaejoong is twenty-two though.”
The name snags on Changmin’s memory, like a piece of fur caught in barbed wire. He looks at Junsu, opens his mouth to ask, but the boy is already waving, already rushing away, his fingers red from gripping the two heavy bags placed in his hands.
“I’ll see you again, I’m sure! Goodbye for now!”
And, like Jaejoong before him, Junsu vanishes among the crowd, the only evidence of his presence ever being there being the high-pitched childish laughter that still echoes in Changmin’s ears.
TBC