(for everyone) 'til death do us part ✸ part 2 of 2
❊ for: everyone
❊ title: 'til death do us part
The safety of a silenced M1903 Sniper turns of with a ‘click’. Gloved hands curl around the handle, muscles contracting and relaxing due to the cold. A middle-aged woman sitting on a couch with a book tucked into her lap comes into focus through the lens. The man adjusts the scope; so that her face can be seem more clearly. The narrow eyes and short black hair washes ashore memories from almost a decade ago, of the overwhelming eagerness of high school students to shed their youth and age far too quickly into adults. He had been sixteen, whilst the latter was already in her final year. They’d separated after she graduated, something to have been expected.
He decides that this one should be clean, quick and without too much care. Much like the innocent romance they’d shared for what wasn’t even a year. She had been his first, after all.
The weather wasn’t letting up and he wants to get home early, so he rubs the coldness away from his hands one last time, bends down low enough into the grass and repositions the rifle.
There’s a sudden rush of reminiscence that goes to his head, of matching blushes whilst fingers clasped and intertwined together, of skipping Asian history classes together just to make out behind lockers, of the day after the graduation ceremony, when she-
The trigger is pulled. Glass shatters, followed almost immediately by a dull thud in the distance.
--
Jongin arrives early on Sunday, at six forty-five. He calls Kyungsoo to tell him that he’s arrived outside his apartment, and Kyungsoo is out the door, but not before receiving a ridiculous catcall from Baekhyun and a wiggle of eyebrows from Chanyeol who had his legs in his lap. Kyungsoo doesn’t even have the time to rain down on them with cushions, so he settles for a simple set of profanities.
“You look good.” Is what he’s greeted with as soon as he steps into the lobby. He can’t help but feel the need to return the words, judging by the way that Jongin’s scarf matches the coat that stops at his mid-thigh in different shades of mahogany. Jongin smiles, takes Kyungsoo by the hand without hesitation, and leads him towards his car.
“Where are we going?” Kyungsoo asks as he’s securing the buckle of his seat belt.
“Somewhere.” Is the haughty reply he receives. “But first, let’s grab something to eat.”
The evening is spent roaming the streets of Hongdae, tasting all the street food that Kyungsoo didn’t had the time to try in all the years he’s lived in Seoul. There are people weaving in and out of stores, making it easy for one to get lost within the crowd, but Jongin had an arm secured firmly across Kyungsoo’s waist. It’s fancy, Kyungsoo muses, in its own way. It was comforting on a rare occasion to be able to spend a memorable night exploring the same town you grew up in, placing extravagance and familiarity side by side.
Kyungsoo tries bungeoppang for the first time, and decides that he quite likes the sugary taste and coarse texture of how the red bean is served, followed by the sudden tingling chill of ice cream.
He notices Jongin glancing at his watch.
“Let’s go.”
“Are we going home?” Kyungsoo can’t help but feel disappointed that this was all that the night had to offer.
“No, there’s one more thing I want you to see.” Doors slam shut against their frames and Kyungsoo settles down once more against the leather seats. Jongin starts up the engine, and they’re off.
Jongin drives and drives, the sky now dark to the point where Kyungsoo can’t differentiate and make out the scenery anymore, only vision coming borrowed from the streetlights. It’s quiet, save for the humming of the engine, so he presumes that they were in a part of the city where it was less densely populated. The two make light conversations inside the car, but each one manages to fade inevitably, and so Jongin turns the radio on.
“- a woman, aged twenty-five has been found dead inside her home in - ”
Jongin switches the channel. Mariah Carey’s voice floats softly through the speakers.
“I like her songs,” Kyungsoo says. “They’re not too overpowered by strong vocals. It’s something I can listen to when I’m in any mood.”
“Really?” Jongin muses, “I prefer something with more of a beat.”
Ah, youth Kyungsoo broods to himself, fingers dancing to the tune against the fabric of his jeans. Before he knows it, he’s humming quietly and eventually forming the English lyrics out of habit from the practice he does whenever he’s home alone in the dorm. It blends without any trace of dissonance to the recording.
This is when Jongin learns that Kyungsoo really (really) likes Mariah Carey’s songs, as well as anything by Western artists in general (he has an amazing knack for pronouncing English precisely) and makes a silent note to purchase as many of her CDs as he can get his hands on.
Around twenty more minutes into the drive, Jongin’s attention perks and he slows down to take a curve, eventually parking the car.
“We’re here.” Jongin announces, hastily unbuckling his seatbelt with excitement. Kyungsoo’s eyes narrow, squints through the darkness.
“Where are we?”
“Just wait, follow me.”
There’s a jittery rush to the way that he’s stepping over fallen twigs, eagerness pulling Kyungsoo along by the hand. The breeze doesn’t let down, persists until Kyungsoo pulls his coat tighter around his body by the hems at the waist.
“Achasan.” Jongin supplies as they reach the entrance. Kyungsoo’s briefly transported back to the day he came here for lunch with his family when he was young.
It’s a struggle to not lose his footing against the rocky pathway, darkness of the night not providing any assistance at all.
“Jongin this isn’t what I’d define as romantic.”
“It’s a surprise, just keep walking.”
The wind occasionally picked up and produced a tune of rustling leaves, the air crisp and faintly infused with smoke. Kyungsoo’s thighs are starting to register the burn, and he’s just about to ask for a break before Jongin leads him off the main path.
“Jongin I swear to Go- ”
“We’re here.”
Kyungsoo pants, squints in confusion and glances around.
From where he’s standing, Kyungsoo realises that he can see the illuminated veins of Seoul flowing through the night, not directly from above but the angle is good enough to showcase the thin lines of shining gold. It’s impossible to tell any of it apart, the city lights a cluster of sparkling diamonds in the distance. And when he looks up, the sky is a sea of black velvet, stars reflecting the town with their own approach; paint the sky in glimmering silver. The clouds were well-timed to have given way at this moment, because the raw sight is filling Kyungsoo’s senses, catches on and extends beyond his peripheral vision and for a minute, he thinks he can see the world. The warmth in his chest swells as he realises that he’s never seen anything so vibrant, so alive, the molten silver against charcoal creating a sparkling cascade that form a dubious tune of twinkling high notes inside his head. Moonlight casts a gentle glaze over treetops and bushes.
“Do you like it?” Jongin receives no reply, leading him to chuckle and bend down slowly so that it allows him to sit with his legs folded casually against his arms.
“It’s - I - ” Kyungsoo is only half focused on his words, “I - I like it. A lot.” He can’t find the words extravagant enough to describe the view, so he just settles lamely for something direct and plain.
“Thought you would.” Kyungsoo doesn’t manage to miss Jongin’s grin underneath the moonlight, pearly rays pooling against his skin. “I found this place by accident one day. Came back again when my mind was clouded, and it really helped.”
“You know,” Jongin announces into the air all of a sudden, “I really like you. Really really do.” His fingers come to pick up a twig, twirls it in his fingers before picking it apart in tiny segments. Kyungsoo doesn’t know if his heart should skip a beat at the statement. “But”, he brushes the remains away in one sift movement, “there’s something really ordinary about you, Do Kyungsoo.” Jongin exhales. “I noticed it on the very first time we’d met, saw that no matter what, textbooks and laboratories won over any debate to be the most favoured.”
“There’s something about you, which tells me you haven’t been living half your life.”
Kyungsoo mind flares because this isn’t the first time he’s heard this coming from another person, and it ignites a fuse of defensive indignation to hear someone else read him so easily like a book. It makes him even angrier to know that Jongin could be right. His response is stopped and cut short.
“Don’t you ever wonder what lurks beyond the tiny confines of your mind?”
“It’s a way of life for me,” Kyungsoo replies almost stiffly, “and it works.”
“I’m not asking you to throw your life away for a romance,” Jongin is pretending to be more focused on the view that the clearing provides, “I’m just asking you to let it into your life.”
There’s a brief pause before Jongin pushes himself upright in one fluid motion against the rocky ground, pats the back of his pants to rid the fabric of any dirt and brings his palms to cup around his mouth. Kyungsoo barely has the time to register what he’s about to do before his voice is flowing out, slightly higher pitched than his usual tone, ricochets through the air as if meant for the whole world to hear.
“DO KYUNGSOO IS A STINGY NAMJA WHO WANTS TO CHOOSE PLANTS AND MICROCOPES OVER A PRETTY BOY LIKE ME.”
Kyungsoo is more than appalled by the time Jongin has finished, wants to push him off the cliff, yell and him and tell him that he’s out of his mind, wants to remind him that he was taking a medicine course and not environmental science. But for some reason, he doesn’t.
“AND KIM JONGIN IS AN IDIOT.” The end of his sentence is tied to a choked exhale, lungs tripping over themselves to make room for more air. “AN IDIOT WHO THINKS HE CAN JUST MARCH INTO OTHER PEOPLE’S LIVES, FREEZE THEM TO DEATH ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN,” his voice is trailing off, ears deafened by either his blood pumping or the pounding of his heart. He couldn’t tell.
Something snaps, breaks through an invisible barricade that feels as though it was already crumbling against the resistance. A clawed talon pierces through skin, hooks against the surface and tears in relentless excitement before the entire bubble explodes and the glittering remnants are falling like rain.
The first giggle comes out a tiny huff of breath, almost unnoticed. It escalates quickly into laughter, which bursts through his lungs like a bolt of red paint against the calm blue sea, ceaseless like the downpour inside his heart. Soon after, Jongin is joining him with his own amused chuckles. His breaths eventually even out and he opens his mouth to finish his sentence.
“And makes boring people fall stupidly in love with him.”
Their proximity had shortened with Kyungsoo’s every word, Jongin’s face now only a fraction of a centimetre away from his own. The wind is fanning his cheeks but the overwhelming heat in his body thinks nothing of it. He said it. The head in front of him tilts, and the thudding inside his heart was now deafening.
And Jongin is kissing him. It’s light, thick lips pressing down softly and it’s now that Kyungsoo’s realises how much he’s longed to feel them against his own. They pull back slightly only to plaster themselves against Kyungsoo’s once again, except this time it’s more forceful and laced with confidence. Jongin’s arms come to wrap around Kyungsoo’s shoulders.
His mind is telling him that he’s beyond crazy, and for the first time, Kyungsoo doesn’t care.
--
Waves crash and roar amongst themselves, collide against pointed rocks before smashing like glass into small droplets of water. There’s a small pier that extends from the coastline, where hooks belonging to fishermen clad heavily in waterproof gear dangled into the waters below.
Today, the man chooses to sit by the concrete ledges near the sand.
The shores reek of abandonment as rarely anyone comes by the sea at this time of year, the wind steadily whipping stray hairs into the man’s face.
It’s not much, he muses, but it’ll do.
--
Jongin takes Kyungsoo on a waltz to different places, every trip giving Kyungsoo one more reason to let himself go and slowly seep into the other man’s world. They took the subway to Chungmuro station, from which a bus led them to Namsan tower, Jongin laughing at Kyungsoo’s blush as he wrote a tiny ‘Jongin <3 Kyungsoo’ on a lock and chained it to the metal fence. One day, when the weather wasn’t wearing its usual gloomy appearance, they went on a picnic, enjoying the time spent within their own company whilst chewing on the sandwiches Kyungsoo made, which Jongin deemed ‘the best’.
“So I heard that your birthday’s coming up soon?” Jongin asks over a lazy afternoon curled on top of the couch in his apartment, fingers slowly threading through Kyungsoo’s hair. Kyungsoo voices his surprise by turning his head slightly to look at him.
“How did you know?” Kyungsoo’s celebrated his birthdays like all people did; started off as laughter filled parties amongst family and friends, dynamics slowly fading away yet peaking slightly at his eighteenth from which then on the special day was spent in simple acknowledgement and the occasional mailed gift. He specifically asked Baekhyun and Chanyeol not to make a fuss of it every year since knowing them, yet there have still been times when the two had shown up with a store bought cake accompanied by a purposely horribly dissonant cover of ‘happy birthday’, courtesy of Baekhyun. “I think it’s about three days from now.”
“Saw it on your driver’s license one day.” Jongin grins down, albeit sheepish. Kyungsoo decides not to question Jongin’s reason for going through his things.
“I’ll let you in on a secret.”
“Oh?”
“Something that you probably don’t know.” Kyungsoo’s turned his body so that only the back of his head lay resting on Jongin’s thighs.
“My birthday is exactly two days after yours.”
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen before he let’s out a chuckle. “Are you serious?”
“Two hundred percent. I can prove it if you want.”
Ideas are rushing through Kyungsoo’s head as he ponders for something to do. In the end, he settles for something simple.
“Why don’t we celebrate both of ours on the day in-between, the 13th?” Jongin smiles, and agrees.
--
By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Jongin and Kyungsoo are walking side by side on a footpath surrounded by the skeletons of dead trees, only reminiscence of their lives scattered messily by the roots. There’s a suspiciously large bag hanging on Jongin’s shoulder, swings as he readjusts it. Leaves are picking themselves off from the frozen ground, hoisted into the air by the occasional gust of wind and thrown in directions of all sorts. It’s quiet inside the park that they’ve arrived at, save for the few elderly couples who were also enjoying the night air. Jongin leads Kyungsoo beyond the bright plastic sets of exercise machines and coloured playground equipment, takes him deeper through low branched trees and tall bushes, and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. Now he understands why Jongin had been carrying the massive bag all the way here.
“Jongin,” he starts, “Jongin, I can’t skate.”
“And that’s why you’re going to learn,” he leaves no room for argument, already pulling out two pairs of unworn skates from his bag. Both pairs are identically white, laced with black string, only difference being that one was slightly bigger than the other. “It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”
The once flowing lake was now frozen to an opaque white, contents below gone and replaced by thick ice. Despite his reluctance to step foot onto it, Kyungsoo admits that it was a mesmerising sight.
“Sit down, so I can get these onto you.” And Jongin was kneeling down in front of him, sliding his foot inside the padded interior much to his embarrassment, tightening the laces and asking him if the fit was too tight or loose. Kyungsoo shook his head.
Jongin places an arm around his waist and tenderly guides him towards the lake, Kyungsoo’s worry growing with every step they took.
“Are you sure this is safe?” He breathes, “What if the ice breaks?”
“It wont, trust me Kyungsoo.” Jongin adds, “I’ll be there to support you. Just relax.”
The first step has Kyungsoo’s mind reeling, not expecting the surface to be so smooth and slippery against the metal blades. His foot jerks and he’s almost sent tumbling, but then Jongin is there to tighten his hold against his hips and steadies his body. They glide together, with Kyungsoo cautiously placing one foot in front of the other supported by shaky legs, the sight akin to a newborn calf.
“If you let go, I’m going to kill you, Jongin.” Said man laughs beside Kyungsoo’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.
“I’m not going to, relax Kyungsoo.”
It takes him a few more minutes of awkward strutting, before he’s letting one foot slide for a few seconds before putting the other one down and doing the same. Jongin continuously provides him with encouragement and praise beside him, grip slowly loosening, as Kyungsoo grows more confident.
“Hey, Jongin, I’m - AH - ” his foot loses it’s grip and Kyungsoo falls ungraciously onto his behind. The look of panic on Jongin’s face slowly melts into barely hidden amusement and he stops short on his way to help him up, clutching at his stomach to giggle.
Kyungsoo heaves a puff of smoke in mock anger and sticks a leg out, nudging Jongin by his boots and giving him a few seconds of momentary surprise before he’s falling into a position much alike Kyungsoo’s own.
“Rude.” But there’s no trace of malice in his voice. Instead there’s a smirk as it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to laugh.
“Happy birthday.” It almost disappears into the wind, but Kyungsoo hears it, chest blooming, and presses his lips against Jongin’s.
--
To Jongin’s surprise, it’s Kyungsoo who takes him by the collar daringly as soon as they reach home, leans upward and almost smashes their mouths together. Dropping his bag, Jongin reciprocates by gripping him against his hips and pressing him flush against his body. Kyungsoo has his arms around Jongin’s neck, tugging at the hairs around the base. They land, a tangle of limbs onto the bed with Jongin’s shirt already halfway off his body.
He nips, tugs, and licks desperately at his lips, Kyungsoo eventually opening his mouth to allow the mapping of his mouth by his tongue. Jongin sits up slowly, bringing Kyungsoo to face him on his lap. He takes in the image a flushed face, panting, usual doe eyes half lidded with lust and a pair of lips bitten swollen and bright red.
Beautiful.
“Happy birthday.” Kyungsoo whispers as he leans down once more, lips in search for Jongin’s own. He hums, slowly moving down towards his neck and draws a tiny moan as he sucks along his collarbone.
Kyungsoo cries out softly as he comes undone against Jongin’s stomach, fingers twisting in his hair and hips twitching. His face, a sea of glowing bliss and lips parted, Jongin wants to capture forever.
--
“Death of third victim has police confirming the case as the work of a serial killer.” Kyungsoo reads aloud from the paper the next morning, with Jongin by his side at breakfast.
“I thought those types of people only existed in movies.” He muses.
“Really?” asks Jongin. His eyes remain focused on Kyungsoo as he takes a bite of his buttered toast.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks once he’s swallowed. Jongin smiles back.
“Nothing.
--
“We should get a cat.” Kyungsoo decides one day as Jongin tails behind him with the shopping trolley. He notes with interest at the ‘sale’ sign above the bell peppers and moves towards the large display of green and red. Jongin follows.
“A cat? But dogs are better. They’re loyal, and they’ll love you no matter what. No such things as separation when it comes to dogs; once you get one, they’re yours forever.” Jongin peeks over Kyungsoo’s shoulder with ease, and frowns. “Bell peppers? I don’t like them though.”
Kyungsoo almost laughs out loud at the analogy. He still bags some of them, but takes a few out upon seeing the semi-pout upon Jongin’s face.
“Yes, but cats are just as great. They’re clean, and actually care for their owners quite a lot, despite coming off as cold. People just misinterpret their love.”
“Mmm, they’re cute, I guess.” A look of sudden mischief washes over his face. “Just like you.”
Kyungsoo decides he wants to take back his earlier actions, fills the plastic bag almost to the brim with the green vegetable, much to Jongin’s protest.
--
“When are you going to introduce us, Kyungsoo?” Hands come to rub tiredly at said man’s temples because if Kyungsoo had a dollar for every time Baekhyun’s asked the exact same question since Kyungsoo broke the news, he wouldn’t be studying medicine to earn a living.
“I’ll call him.”
He’s surprised when his ears are met with the voicemail after the multiple dials. He wants to ask him for when he’s free, so that he can finally shut Baekhyun’s incessant nagging up and allow him as well as Chanyeol to meet his new boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word sounds awkward and immature inside Kyungsoo’s mind, and he doesn’t dare say it out loud.
His brows meet at a furrow.
“Maybe he’s busy.” Comes Baekhyun’s voice from the kitchen.
“But he shouldn’t be. It’s past nine and he should be at home.” Kyungsoo was already re-typing the digits that were now etched into his memory into his smartphone. The phone rings four times.
“Hello? Kyungsoo?” The voice from the receiver sounds muffled and slightly rough. There was a sense of chaos to the noise from the background, indescribable amongst a commotion of rustling and inconsistent crackling. There’s something that depicts itself a lot like roar of waves crashing against one another.
“Jongin? Are you busy?”
“A - ” more rustling, “A little. ” There was almost a hint of panic smeared on the edges of his voice. He coughs to clear his throat. “Was there something that you needed? ”
“I - ” Kyungsoo bites his lips, and ultimately decides that the event could be left for another time. “It’s fine. I’ll ask when you’re free.” Jongin doesn’t protest.
“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’ll call you back soon, Kyungsoo. ” And he’s gone without waiting for a reply.
“So?” Baekhyun asks, although Kyungsoo knows that he can already guess the verdict.
“He’s busy tonight, so I’ll ask him some other time.” Baekhyun lets out an expected groan, thrusts his hands into the pantry and pulls out a packet of chips.
Kyungsoo’s left to his own thoughts as his roommate thuds off callously into his room, and he can’t stop himself from questioning the obscure sound that curled itself around Jongin’s voice.
--
“Hey, where were you?”
“Work. Sorry, Kyungsoo, it was urgent and kinda hectic. What did you want to ask me?”
“Oh it was nothing, just that I had friends who wanted to meet you.”
“Really? I don’t see why not.”
“Great. I’ll organise a date.”
--
As the time spent in his own dorm became more and more scarce in favour of Jongin’s apartment, Kyungsoo’s beginning to treat it as if it were his own. The rain from outside beats down without oscillation against the windows and the roof. A mug of hot tea sits clutched between his fingers, as one hand flicks the mouse connected to a laptop. The news webpage he was currently browsing flashed a notification for a new article. It gnaws at his interest, but considering that his exams were over two weeks ago and he had nothing to prepare for, he clicks to open it up. Kyungsoo’s brows furrow, stomach slowly inclining towards his throat, rushes to open the contents in a new tab.
‘Man with multiple stab wounds found dead at Gyeongpo beach, killer unknown.’
He swallows thickly, mind working on it’s own and types “Moonji Publishing” into the search bar, checks for their opening hours.
Jongin had lied to him.
Kyungsoo almost jumps in his chair as he hears the door swing shut in the corridor.
“Where were you Saturday night, Jongin?”
Jongin’s barely removed his shoes, looks up confused to be asked the same question again. “I told you, I was at work. Why?”
“No, you weren’t.” Kyungsoo’s mind is spinning. “I searched up the publishing house that you work for and it says that you guys close up at five in the afternoon on Saturdays.”
“I was overtime, there’s been a lot of stuff piling - ”
“I just checked the news,” breathy pause, “and supposedly the serial killer from the papers drowned his latest victim. In the sea.” Followed by, “Tell me what I heard in the background of our last phone call wasn’t what I thought it was.”
Jongin is silent, eyes frozen and fixated towards the floor by Kyungsoo’s feet. Time halts, and neither moves. Kyungsoo takes this as a sign to run his hands through his hair and clench his teeth together.
“Kyungsoo I think you’ve gotten me mixed up with - ”
“Just answer me!”
If he could end things here, oh how Kyungsoo wished that he could do so. But a part of him was tired, tired of simply running away when things don’t run along in his favour and he abandons the instinctual tendency to just run out of the apartment.
“I - ” Jongin pauses, “and if I was?”
“What?”
“And if I was?” Jongin mutters slowly, “what if this guy, this serial killer, the one who murdered all those people, was me?” His eyes are empty, liveliness stolen and clouded with mist. “What would you do?”
Kyungsoo wants to scream, wants to break down until the tightness in his chest explodes and fades away. This, he supposes, is the part where the fairy tale meets its evil witch, when the clock strikes twelve and when sleeping beauty was foolish enough to prick her finger. This is the part where it all comes crashing down, inevitably he daresay, dragging his resolve and reason along with it. His mind is universes away from calm, blood running faster by the second.
“I don’t know.” He doesn’t realise there are tears running down his face until Jongin comes to wipe at them with his thumb. He wants to slap away the hand responsible. “I don’t know.”
--
Kyungsoo’s made mistakes in his life. Some more severe than others, yet he’s not sure which end of the spectrum he should be classifying this one. Not even sure if he should be calling it a ‘mistake’.
“So,” Kyungsoo begins once the knots of fear inside his stomach have started to come undone, “why?”
It’s all he can manage.
Jongin drawls in a breath. “All the people on the news, every one of them,” he looks away, “they’re all people that I’ve loved in the past.”
Kyungsoo almost wants to scoff at how cheesy it sounds.
“I couldn’t figure it out. But I found that if they were gone, then that was just another chapter of my life I didn’t need to waste my thoughts on any more. Before that, I was just one tattered romance after another.” He lets out a breath. “I couldn’t figure out what was going wrong. What I was doing wrong. I was trying so hard. I fooled around after that, expecting to find some answers but I only ended up with nothing.” Jongin looks him in the eye, “But then, Do Kyungsoo showed up one night at my dinner table unannounced, out of nowhere.” There was a rawness to the way that Jongin stared at him, eyes swirling emotions and fists clenched. “It was somewhat of an experiment at first, I’ll tell the truth. I thought that maybe if I tried my best to swoon you then that would be the key to a successful love story.”
“But soon after I realised that I’d stopped pretending and everything that I did was real.”
“I thought about what I’d do, what I’d do if we ever parted ways.” Kyungsoo hasn’t said a word. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to imagine ever having to kill you, so in the end, I tried my best. I tried my best to make you love me.”
--
Kyungsoo is slowly nodding off with a copy of Murakami’s “Norwegian Wood” in his lap, legs burrowed in the blankets of Jongin’s bed one night. He hasn’t left the apartment since that day, mind largely undecided on what he should say or do. He doesn’t know how to process any of the information without sending his brain into overdrive. He’s not even sure whether or not he should still call them ‘lovers’, yet somehow the fear of losing Jongin doesn’t compare to that of the thought of his body possibly bleeding and lifeless. It’s stupid, and Kyungsoo feels stupid too. When the door slams open with lingering haste accompanied by footsteps that follow in the same manner, he’s jerked awake and interrupted from his thoughts, initial instincts screaming at him to hide in fear of an intruder, but then the panic is defused once Jongin appears through the doorway of the bedroom.
He looks different.
“Jongin, what’s wrong?”
Jongin seizes him by the shoulders, pulls him forward, and pauses.
“Kyungsoo,” He croaks, voice thin. “Are you staying with me right now because you love me,” he pauses, “or because you don’t want to die?”
Kyungsoo doesn’t reply, and simply lets Jongin unbutton his shirt with messy fingers, kiss his way down his exposed chest and lower.
Jongin is rough that night, fingers a clawing mess against Kyungsoo’s back.
“I’m going to leave. I’m going to leave the country.” He whispers into Kyungsoo’s collarbones.
“What?”
“I’m going to leave, tomorrow morning, before things start to get messy with authorities.” Jongin pants, hips quickening in pace. “Please, come with me.”
It comes out as a ragged plea, torn apart by the shakiness of his breath.
“I - I wont hold it against you, and you don’t have to, but - ”
“Jongin, I - ” His words are cut short as he releases, gasping and arching his back.
“Please, please, Kyungsoo please.”
When Kyungsoo wakes up, Jongin is gone.
--
Jongin was wrong. Kyungsoo’s lost a lot more than his free time just to pursue a selfish romance. He’s potentially sacrificed his career, friends and family, and maybe even a part of his sanity, all for a boy. A boy whom he loved. A boy whom he slowly fell in love with, unbeknownst to him that he was a fucking mass murderer. And when he thinks about it from that perspective, it’s pitifully laughable and sounds more than absurd.
Yet somehow when he thinks of Kim Jongin, he doesn’t see him as the serial killer that most of the city already knows him as. He doesn’t see him as the man who strangled, drowned, or stabbed his victims to death despite the uneasiness that accompanies the thought. And Kyungsoo’s not sure, but he thinks that he’s got it figured out.
He doesn’t want to remember Jongin as ‘Jongin, the serial killer’, doesn’t want to remember him for all the people that he’s killed. He wants to know him as the man who was crazy enough to confess by screaming his lungs out on top of a mountain clearing. He was to know him as the man who scrunches his nose whenever he eats bell peppers, yet eyes brighten when he sees a plate of meat. The list goes on without stopping. But most of all Kyungsoo wants to remember Jongin as the boy who took him in, turned his life around, upside down, and in directions Kyungsoo never imagined he’d go, and for that he thinks he owes him the world.
And that’s why, he thinks, as he pushes clothes and toiletries into the large travel bag he finds inside one of Jongin’s cupboards, he’s going to go.
He doesn’t know if it’ll be worth it. He doesn’t know if one day, Jongin will be caught. He doesn’t know if at some point everything will come crashing down. Maybe it already has. But Do Kyungsoo is tired to running away, running back to safety, and for once wants to live his life for his heart, and not his brain.
But as he’s racing towards a certain six-foot figure with his back turned towards him and calls out his name, falls into his arms and makes no plans of letting go, he knows that it’s taken more than just ‘love’ to drive him to make the decision that he did.
Because Kim Jongin made a promise.
He promised Do Kyungsoo that he’d show him the universe. And as far as Kyungsoo’s concerned, he still has so much more ‘living’ to do.
❊ title: 'til death do us part
The safety of a silenced M1903 Sniper turns of with a ‘click’. Gloved hands curl around the handle, muscles contracting and relaxing due to the cold. A middle-aged woman sitting on a couch with a book tucked into her lap comes into focus through the lens. The man adjusts the scope; so that her face can be seem more clearly. The narrow eyes and short black hair washes ashore memories from almost a decade ago, of the overwhelming eagerness of high school students to shed their youth and age far too quickly into adults. He had been sixteen, whilst the latter was already in her final year. They’d separated after she graduated, something to have been expected.
He decides that this one should be clean, quick and without too much care. Much like the innocent romance they’d shared for what wasn’t even a year. She had been his first, after all.
The weather wasn’t letting up and he wants to get home early, so he rubs the coldness away from his hands one last time, bends down low enough into the grass and repositions the rifle.
There’s a sudden rush of reminiscence that goes to his head, of matching blushes whilst fingers clasped and intertwined together, of skipping Asian history classes together just to make out behind lockers, of the day after the graduation ceremony, when she-
The trigger is pulled. Glass shatters, followed almost immediately by a dull thud in the distance.
--
Jongin arrives early on Sunday, at six forty-five. He calls Kyungsoo to tell him that he’s arrived outside his apartment, and Kyungsoo is out the door, but not before receiving a ridiculous catcall from Baekhyun and a wiggle of eyebrows from Chanyeol who had his legs in his lap. Kyungsoo doesn’t even have the time to rain down on them with cushions, so he settles for a simple set of profanities.
“You look good.” Is what he’s greeted with as soon as he steps into the lobby. He can’t help but feel the need to return the words, judging by the way that Jongin’s scarf matches the coat that stops at his mid-thigh in different shades of mahogany. Jongin smiles, takes Kyungsoo by the hand without hesitation, and leads him towards his car.
“Where are we going?” Kyungsoo asks as he’s securing the buckle of his seat belt.
“Somewhere.” Is the haughty reply he receives. “But first, let’s grab something to eat.”
The evening is spent roaming the streets of Hongdae, tasting all the street food that Kyungsoo didn’t had the time to try in all the years he’s lived in Seoul. There are people weaving in and out of stores, making it easy for one to get lost within the crowd, but Jongin had an arm secured firmly across Kyungsoo’s waist. It’s fancy, Kyungsoo muses, in its own way. It was comforting on a rare occasion to be able to spend a memorable night exploring the same town you grew up in, placing extravagance and familiarity side by side.
Kyungsoo tries bungeoppang for the first time, and decides that he quite likes the sugary taste and coarse texture of how the red bean is served, followed by the sudden tingling chill of ice cream.
He notices Jongin glancing at his watch.
“Let’s go.”
“Are we going home?” Kyungsoo can’t help but feel disappointed that this was all that the night had to offer.
“No, there’s one more thing I want you to see.” Doors slam shut against their frames and Kyungsoo settles down once more against the leather seats. Jongin starts up the engine, and they’re off.
Jongin drives and drives, the sky now dark to the point where Kyungsoo can’t differentiate and make out the scenery anymore, only vision coming borrowed from the streetlights. It’s quiet, save for the humming of the engine, so he presumes that they were in a part of the city where it was less densely populated. The two make light conversations inside the car, but each one manages to fade inevitably, and so Jongin turns the radio on.
“- a woman, aged twenty-five has been found dead inside her home in - ”
Jongin switches the channel. Mariah Carey’s voice floats softly through the speakers.
“I like her songs,” Kyungsoo says. “They’re not too overpowered by strong vocals. It’s something I can listen to when I’m in any mood.”
“Really?” Jongin muses, “I prefer something with more of a beat.”
Ah, youth Kyungsoo broods to himself, fingers dancing to the tune against the fabric of his jeans. Before he knows it, he’s humming quietly and eventually forming the English lyrics out of habit from the practice he does whenever he’s home alone in the dorm. It blends without any trace of dissonance to the recording.
This is when Jongin learns that Kyungsoo really (really) likes Mariah Carey’s songs, as well as anything by Western artists in general (he has an amazing knack for pronouncing English precisely) and makes a silent note to purchase as many of her CDs as he can get his hands on.
Around twenty more minutes into the drive, Jongin’s attention perks and he slows down to take a curve, eventually parking the car.
“We’re here.” Jongin announces, hastily unbuckling his seatbelt with excitement. Kyungsoo’s eyes narrow, squints through the darkness.
“Where are we?”
“Just wait, follow me.”
There’s a jittery rush to the way that he’s stepping over fallen twigs, eagerness pulling Kyungsoo along by the hand. The breeze doesn’t let down, persists until Kyungsoo pulls his coat tighter around his body by the hems at the waist.
“Achasan.” Jongin supplies as they reach the entrance. Kyungsoo’s briefly transported back to the day he came here for lunch with his family when he was young.
It’s a struggle to not lose his footing against the rocky pathway, darkness of the night not providing any assistance at all.
“Jongin this isn’t what I’d define as romantic.”
“It’s a surprise, just keep walking.”
The wind occasionally picked up and produced a tune of rustling leaves, the air crisp and faintly infused with smoke. Kyungsoo’s thighs are starting to register the burn, and he’s just about to ask for a break before Jongin leads him off the main path.
“Jongin I swear to Go- ”
“We’re here.”
Kyungsoo pants, squints in confusion and glances around.
From where he’s standing, Kyungsoo realises that he can see the illuminated veins of Seoul flowing through the night, not directly from above but the angle is good enough to showcase the thin lines of shining gold. It’s impossible to tell any of it apart, the city lights a cluster of sparkling diamonds in the distance. And when he looks up, the sky is a sea of black velvet, stars reflecting the town with their own approach; paint the sky in glimmering silver. The clouds were well-timed to have given way at this moment, because the raw sight is filling Kyungsoo’s senses, catches on and extends beyond his peripheral vision and for a minute, he thinks he can see the world. The warmth in his chest swells as he realises that he’s never seen anything so vibrant, so alive, the molten silver against charcoal creating a sparkling cascade that form a dubious tune of twinkling high notes inside his head. Moonlight casts a gentle glaze over treetops and bushes.
“Do you like it?” Jongin receives no reply, leading him to chuckle and bend down slowly so that it allows him to sit with his legs folded casually against his arms.
“It’s - I - ” Kyungsoo is only half focused on his words, “I - I like it. A lot.” He can’t find the words extravagant enough to describe the view, so he just settles lamely for something direct and plain.
“Thought you would.” Kyungsoo doesn’t manage to miss Jongin’s grin underneath the moonlight, pearly rays pooling against his skin. “I found this place by accident one day. Came back again when my mind was clouded, and it really helped.”
“You know,” Jongin announces into the air all of a sudden, “I really like you. Really really do.” His fingers come to pick up a twig, twirls it in his fingers before picking it apart in tiny segments. Kyungsoo doesn’t know if his heart should skip a beat at the statement. “But”, he brushes the remains away in one sift movement, “there’s something really ordinary about you, Do Kyungsoo.” Jongin exhales. “I noticed it on the very first time we’d met, saw that no matter what, textbooks and laboratories won over any debate to be the most favoured.”
“There’s something about you, which tells me you haven’t been living half your life.”
Kyungsoo mind flares because this isn’t the first time he’s heard this coming from another person, and it ignites a fuse of defensive indignation to hear someone else read him so easily like a book. It makes him even angrier to know that Jongin could be right. His response is stopped and cut short.
“Don’t you ever wonder what lurks beyond the tiny confines of your mind?”
“It’s a way of life for me,” Kyungsoo replies almost stiffly, “and it works.”
“I’m not asking you to throw your life away for a romance,” Jongin is pretending to be more focused on the view that the clearing provides, “I’m just asking you to let it into your life.”
There’s a brief pause before Jongin pushes himself upright in one fluid motion against the rocky ground, pats the back of his pants to rid the fabric of any dirt and brings his palms to cup around his mouth. Kyungsoo barely has the time to register what he’s about to do before his voice is flowing out, slightly higher pitched than his usual tone, ricochets through the air as if meant for the whole world to hear.
“DO KYUNGSOO IS A STINGY NAMJA WHO WANTS TO CHOOSE PLANTS AND MICROCOPES OVER A PRETTY BOY LIKE ME.”
Kyungsoo is more than appalled by the time Jongin has finished, wants to push him off the cliff, yell and him and tell him that he’s out of his mind, wants to remind him that he was taking a medicine course and not environmental science. But for some reason, he doesn’t.
“AND KIM JONGIN IS AN IDIOT.” The end of his sentence is tied to a choked exhale, lungs tripping over themselves to make room for more air. “AN IDIOT WHO THINKS HE CAN JUST MARCH INTO OTHER PEOPLE’S LIVES, FREEZE THEM TO DEATH ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN,” his voice is trailing off, ears deafened by either his blood pumping or the pounding of his heart. He couldn’t tell.
Something snaps, breaks through an invisible barricade that feels as though it was already crumbling against the resistance. A clawed talon pierces through skin, hooks against the surface and tears in relentless excitement before the entire bubble explodes and the glittering remnants are falling like rain.
The first giggle comes out a tiny huff of breath, almost unnoticed. It escalates quickly into laughter, which bursts through his lungs like a bolt of red paint against the calm blue sea, ceaseless like the downpour inside his heart. Soon after, Jongin is joining him with his own amused chuckles. His breaths eventually even out and he opens his mouth to finish his sentence.
“And makes boring people fall stupidly in love with him.”
Their proximity had shortened with Kyungsoo’s every word, Jongin’s face now only a fraction of a centimetre away from his own. The wind is fanning his cheeks but the overwhelming heat in his body thinks nothing of it. He said it. The head in front of him tilts, and the thudding inside his heart was now deafening.
And Jongin is kissing him. It’s light, thick lips pressing down softly and it’s now that Kyungsoo’s realises how much he’s longed to feel them against his own. They pull back slightly only to plaster themselves against Kyungsoo’s once again, except this time it’s more forceful and laced with confidence. Jongin’s arms come to wrap around Kyungsoo’s shoulders.
His mind is telling him that he’s beyond crazy, and for the first time, Kyungsoo doesn’t care.
--
Waves crash and roar amongst themselves, collide against pointed rocks before smashing like glass into small droplets of water. There’s a small pier that extends from the coastline, where hooks belonging to fishermen clad heavily in waterproof gear dangled into the waters below.
Today, the man chooses to sit by the concrete ledges near the sand.
The shores reek of abandonment as rarely anyone comes by the sea at this time of year, the wind steadily whipping stray hairs into the man’s face.
It’s not much, he muses, but it’ll do.
--
Jongin takes Kyungsoo on a waltz to different places, every trip giving Kyungsoo one more reason to let himself go and slowly seep into the other man’s world. They took the subway to Chungmuro station, from which a bus led them to Namsan tower, Jongin laughing at Kyungsoo’s blush as he wrote a tiny ‘Jongin <3 Kyungsoo’ on a lock and chained it to the metal fence. One day, when the weather wasn’t wearing its usual gloomy appearance, they went on a picnic, enjoying the time spent within their own company whilst chewing on the sandwiches Kyungsoo made, which Jongin deemed ‘the best’.
“So I heard that your birthday’s coming up soon?” Jongin asks over a lazy afternoon curled on top of the couch in his apartment, fingers slowly threading through Kyungsoo’s hair. Kyungsoo voices his surprise by turning his head slightly to look at him.
“How did you know?” Kyungsoo’s celebrated his birthdays like all people did; started off as laughter filled parties amongst family and friends, dynamics slowly fading away yet peaking slightly at his eighteenth from which then on the special day was spent in simple acknowledgement and the occasional mailed gift. He specifically asked Baekhyun and Chanyeol not to make a fuss of it every year since knowing them, yet there have still been times when the two had shown up with a store bought cake accompanied by a purposely horribly dissonant cover of ‘happy birthday’, courtesy of Baekhyun. “I think it’s about three days from now.”
“Saw it on your driver’s license one day.” Jongin grins down, albeit sheepish. Kyungsoo decides not to question Jongin’s reason for going through his things.
“I’ll let you in on a secret.”
“Oh?”
“Something that you probably don’t know.” Kyungsoo’s turned his body so that only the back of his head lay resting on Jongin’s thighs.
“My birthday is exactly two days after yours.”
Kyungsoo’s eyes widen before he let’s out a chuckle. “Are you serious?”
“Two hundred percent. I can prove it if you want.”
Ideas are rushing through Kyungsoo’s head as he ponders for something to do. In the end, he settles for something simple.
“Why don’t we celebrate both of ours on the day in-between, the 13th?” Jongin smiles, and agrees.
--
By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Jongin and Kyungsoo are walking side by side on a footpath surrounded by the skeletons of dead trees, only reminiscence of their lives scattered messily by the roots. There’s a suspiciously large bag hanging on Jongin’s shoulder, swings as he readjusts it. Leaves are picking themselves off from the frozen ground, hoisted into the air by the occasional gust of wind and thrown in directions of all sorts. It’s quiet inside the park that they’ve arrived at, save for the few elderly couples who were also enjoying the night air. Jongin leads Kyungsoo beyond the bright plastic sets of exercise machines and coloured playground equipment, takes him deeper through low branched trees and tall bushes, and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. Now he understands why Jongin had been carrying the massive bag all the way here.
“Jongin,” he starts, “Jongin, I can’t skate.”
“And that’s why you’re going to learn,” he leaves no room for argument, already pulling out two pairs of unworn skates from his bag. Both pairs are identically white, laced with black string, only difference being that one was slightly bigger than the other. “It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”
The once flowing lake was now frozen to an opaque white, contents below gone and replaced by thick ice. Despite his reluctance to step foot onto it, Kyungsoo admits that it was a mesmerising sight.
“Sit down, so I can get these onto you.” And Jongin was kneeling down in front of him, sliding his foot inside the padded interior much to his embarrassment, tightening the laces and asking him if the fit was too tight or loose. Kyungsoo shook his head.
Jongin places an arm around his waist and tenderly guides him towards the lake, Kyungsoo’s worry growing with every step they took.
“Are you sure this is safe?” He breathes, “What if the ice breaks?”
“It wont, trust me Kyungsoo.” Jongin adds, “I’ll be there to support you. Just relax.”
The first step has Kyungsoo’s mind reeling, not expecting the surface to be so smooth and slippery against the metal blades. His foot jerks and he’s almost sent tumbling, but then Jongin is there to tighten his hold against his hips and steadies his body. They glide together, with Kyungsoo cautiously placing one foot in front of the other supported by shaky legs, the sight akin to a newborn calf.
“If you let go, I’m going to kill you, Jongin.” Said man laughs beside Kyungsoo’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.
“I’m not going to, relax Kyungsoo.”
It takes him a few more minutes of awkward strutting, before he’s letting one foot slide for a few seconds before putting the other one down and doing the same. Jongin continuously provides him with encouragement and praise beside him, grip slowly loosening, as Kyungsoo grows more confident.
“Hey, Jongin, I’m - AH - ” his foot loses it’s grip and Kyungsoo falls ungraciously onto his behind. The look of panic on Jongin’s face slowly melts into barely hidden amusement and he stops short on his way to help him up, clutching at his stomach to giggle.
Kyungsoo heaves a puff of smoke in mock anger and sticks a leg out, nudging Jongin by his boots and giving him a few seconds of momentary surprise before he’s falling into a position much alike Kyungsoo’s own.
“Rude.” But there’s no trace of malice in his voice. Instead there’s a smirk as it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to laugh.
“Happy birthday.” It almost disappears into the wind, but Kyungsoo hears it, chest blooming, and presses his lips against Jongin’s.
--
To Jongin’s surprise, it’s Kyungsoo who takes him by the collar daringly as soon as they reach home, leans upward and almost smashes their mouths together. Dropping his bag, Jongin reciprocates by gripping him against his hips and pressing him flush against his body. Kyungsoo has his arms around Jongin’s neck, tugging at the hairs around the base. They land, a tangle of limbs onto the bed with Jongin’s shirt already halfway off his body.
He nips, tugs, and licks desperately at his lips, Kyungsoo eventually opening his mouth to allow the mapping of his mouth by his tongue. Jongin sits up slowly, bringing Kyungsoo to face him on his lap. He takes in the image a flushed face, panting, usual doe eyes half lidded with lust and a pair of lips bitten swollen and bright red.
Beautiful.
“Happy birthday.” Kyungsoo whispers as he leans down once more, lips in search for Jongin’s own. He hums, slowly moving down towards his neck and draws a tiny moan as he sucks along his collarbone.
Kyungsoo cries out softly as he comes undone against Jongin’s stomach, fingers twisting in his hair and hips twitching. His face, a sea of glowing bliss and lips parted, Jongin wants to capture forever.
--
“Death of third victim has police confirming the case as the work of a serial killer.” Kyungsoo reads aloud from the paper the next morning, with Jongin by his side at breakfast.
“I thought those types of people only existed in movies.” He muses.
“Really?” asks Jongin. His eyes remain focused on Kyungsoo as he takes a bite of his buttered toast.
“What?” Kyungsoo asks once he’s swallowed. Jongin smiles back.
“Nothing.
--
“We should get a cat.” Kyungsoo decides one day as Jongin tails behind him with the shopping trolley. He notes with interest at the ‘sale’ sign above the bell peppers and moves towards the large display of green and red. Jongin follows.
“A cat? But dogs are better. They’re loyal, and they’ll love you no matter what. No such things as separation when it comes to dogs; once you get one, they’re yours forever.” Jongin peeks over Kyungsoo’s shoulder with ease, and frowns. “Bell peppers? I don’t like them though.”
Kyungsoo almost laughs out loud at the analogy. He still bags some of them, but takes a few out upon seeing the semi-pout upon Jongin’s face.
“Yes, but cats are just as great. They’re clean, and actually care for their owners quite a lot, despite coming off as cold. People just misinterpret their love.”
“Mmm, they’re cute, I guess.” A look of sudden mischief washes over his face. “Just like you.”
Kyungsoo decides he wants to take back his earlier actions, fills the plastic bag almost to the brim with the green vegetable, much to Jongin’s protest.
--
“When are you going to introduce us, Kyungsoo?” Hands come to rub tiredly at said man’s temples because if Kyungsoo had a dollar for every time Baekhyun’s asked the exact same question since Kyungsoo broke the news, he wouldn’t be studying medicine to earn a living.
“I’ll call him.”
He’s surprised when his ears are met with the voicemail after the multiple dials. He wants to ask him for when he’s free, so that he can finally shut Baekhyun’s incessant nagging up and allow him as well as Chanyeol to meet his new boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word sounds awkward and immature inside Kyungsoo’s mind, and he doesn’t dare say it out loud.
His brows meet at a furrow.
“Maybe he’s busy.” Comes Baekhyun’s voice from the kitchen.
“But he shouldn’t be. It’s past nine and he should be at home.” Kyungsoo was already re-typing the digits that were now etched into his memory into his smartphone. The phone rings four times.
“Hello? Kyungsoo?” The voice from the receiver sounds muffled and slightly rough. There was a sense of chaos to the noise from the background, indescribable amongst a commotion of rustling and inconsistent crackling. There’s something that depicts itself a lot like roar of waves crashing against one another.
“Jongin? Are you busy?”
“A - ” more rustling, “A little. ” There was almost a hint of panic smeared on the edges of his voice. He coughs to clear his throat. “Was there something that you needed? ”
“I - ” Kyungsoo bites his lips, and ultimately decides that the event could be left for another time. “It’s fine. I’ll ask when you’re free.” Jongin doesn’t protest.
“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’ll call you back soon, Kyungsoo. ” And he’s gone without waiting for a reply.
“So?” Baekhyun asks, although Kyungsoo knows that he can already guess the verdict.
“He’s busy tonight, so I’ll ask him some other time.” Baekhyun lets out an expected groan, thrusts his hands into the pantry and pulls out a packet of chips.
Kyungsoo’s left to his own thoughts as his roommate thuds off callously into his room, and he can’t stop himself from questioning the obscure sound that curled itself around Jongin’s voice.
--
“Hey, where were you?”
“Work. Sorry, Kyungsoo, it was urgent and kinda hectic. What did you want to ask me?”
“Oh it was nothing, just that I had friends who wanted to meet you.”
“Really? I don’t see why not.”
“Great. I’ll organise a date.”
--
As the time spent in his own dorm became more and more scarce in favour of Jongin’s apartment, Kyungsoo’s beginning to treat it as if it were his own. The rain from outside beats down without oscillation against the windows and the roof. A mug of hot tea sits clutched between his fingers, as one hand flicks the mouse connected to a laptop. The news webpage he was currently browsing flashed a notification for a new article. It gnaws at his interest, but considering that his exams were over two weeks ago and he had nothing to prepare for, he clicks to open it up. Kyungsoo’s brows furrow, stomach slowly inclining towards his throat, rushes to open the contents in a new tab.
‘Man with multiple stab wounds found dead at Gyeongpo beach, killer unknown.’
He swallows thickly, mind working on it’s own and types “Moonji Publishing” into the search bar, checks for their opening hours.
Jongin had lied to him.
Kyungsoo almost jumps in his chair as he hears the door swing shut in the corridor.
“Where were you Saturday night, Jongin?”
Jongin’s barely removed his shoes, looks up confused to be asked the same question again. “I told you, I was at work. Why?”
“No, you weren’t.” Kyungsoo’s mind is spinning. “I searched up the publishing house that you work for and it says that you guys close up at five in the afternoon on Saturdays.”
“I was overtime, there’s been a lot of stuff piling - ”
“I just checked the news,” breathy pause, “and supposedly the serial killer from the papers drowned his latest victim. In the sea.” Followed by, “Tell me what I heard in the background of our last phone call wasn’t what I thought it was.”
Jongin is silent, eyes frozen and fixated towards the floor by Kyungsoo’s feet. Time halts, and neither moves. Kyungsoo takes this as a sign to run his hands through his hair and clench his teeth together.
“Kyungsoo I think you’ve gotten me mixed up with - ”
“Just answer me!”
If he could end things here, oh how Kyungsoo wished that he could do so. But a part of him was tired, tired of simply running away when things don’t run along in his favour and he abandons the instinctual tendency to just run out of the apartment.
“I - ” Jongin pauses, “and if I was?”
“What?”
“And if I was?” Jongin mutters slowly, “what if this guy, this serial killer, the one who murdered all those people, was me?” His eyes are empty, liveliness stolen and clouded with mist. “What would you do?”
Kyungsoo wants to scream, wants to break down until the tightness in his chest explodes and fades away. This, he supposes, is the part where the fairy tale meets its evil witch, when the clock strikes twelve and when sleeping beauty was foolish enough to prick her finger. This is the part where it all comes crashing down, inevitably he daresay, dragging his resolve and reason along with it. His mind is universes away from calm, blood running faster by the second.
“I don’t know.” He doesn’t realise there are tears running down his face until Jongin comes to wipe at them with his thumb. He wants to slap away the hand responsible. “I don’t know.”
--
Kyungsoo’s made mistakes in his life. Some more severe than others, yet he’s not sure which end of the spectrum he should be classifying this one. Not even sure if he should be calling it a ‘mistake’.
“So,” Kyungsoo begins once the knots of fear inside his stomach have started to come undone, “why?”
It’s all he can manage.
Jongin drawls in a breath. “All the people on the news, every one of them,” he looks away, “they’re all people that I’ve loved in the past.”
Kyungsoo almost wants to scoff at how cheesy it sounds.
“I couldn’t figure it out. But I found that if they were gone, then that was just another chapter of my life I didn’t need to waste my thoughts on any more. Before that, I was just one tattered romance after another.” He lets out a breath. “I couldn’t figure out what was going wrong. What I was doing wrong. I was trying so hard. I fooled around after that, expecting to find some answers but I only ended up with nothing.” Jongin looks him in the eye, “But then, Do Kyungsoo showed up one night at my dinner table unannounced, out of nowhere.” There was a rawness to the way that Jongin stared at him, eyes swirling emotions and fists clenched. “It was somewhat of an experiment at first, I’ll tell the truth. I thought that maybe if I tried my best to swoon you then that would be the key to a successful love story.”
“But soon after I realised that I’d stopped pretending and everything that I did was real.”
“I thought about what I’d do, what I’d do if we ever parted ways.” Kyungsoo hasn’t said a word. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to imagine ever having to kill you, so in the end, I tried my best. I tried my best to make you love me.”
--
Kyungsoo is slowly nodding off with a copy of Murakami’s “Norwegian Wood” in his lap, legs burrowed in the blankets of Jongin’s bed one night. He hasn’t left the apartment since that day, mind largely undecided on what he should say or do. He doesn’t know how to process any of the information without sending his brain into overdrive. He’s not even sure whether or not he should still call them ‘lovers’, yet somehow the fear of losing Jongin doesn’t compare to that of the thought of his body possibly bleeding and lifeless. It’s stupid, and Kyungsoo feels stupid too. When the door slams open with lingering haste accompanied by footsteps that follow in the same manner, he’s jerked awake and interrupted from his thoughts, initial instincts screaming at him to hide in fear of an intruder, but then the panic is defused once Jongin appears through the doorway of the bedroom.
He looks different.
“Jongin, what’s wrong?”
Jongin seizes him by the shoulders, pulls him forward, and pauses.
“Kyungsoo,” He croaks, voice thin. “Are you staying with me right now because you love me,” he pauses, “or because you don’t want to die?”
Kyungsoo doesn’t reply, and simply lets Jongin unbutton his shirt with messy fingers, kiss his way down his exposed chest and lower.
Jongin is rough that night, fingers a clawing mess against Kyungsoo’s back.
“I’m going to leave. I’m going to leave the country.” He whispers into Kyungsoo’s collarbones.
“What?”
“I’m going to leave, tomorrow morning, before things start to get messy with authorities.” Jongin pants, hips quickening in pace. “Please, come with me.”
It comes out as a ragged plea, torn apart by the shakiness of his breath.
“I - I wont hold it against you, and you don’t have to, but - ”
“Jongin, I - ” His words are cut short as he releases, gasping and arching his back.
“Please, please, Kyungsoo please.”
When Kyungsoo wakes up, Jongin is gone.
--
Jongin was wrong. Kyungsoo’s lost a lot more than his free time just to pursue a selfish romance. He’s potentially sacrificed his career, friends and family, and maybe even a part of his sanity, all for a boy. A boy whom he loved. A boy whom he slowly fell in love with, unbeknownst to him that he was a fucking mass murderer. And when he thinks about it from that perspective, it’s pitifully laughable and sounds more than absurd.
Yet somehow when he thinks of Kim Jongin, he doesn’t see him as the serial killer that most of the city already knows him as. He doesn’t see him as the man who strangled, drowned, or stabbed his victims to death despite the uneasiness that accompanies the thought. And Kyungsoo’s not sure, but he thinks that he’s got it figured out.
He doesn’t want to remember Jongin as ‘Jongin, the serial killer’, doesn’t want to remember him for all the people that he’s killed. He wants to know him as the man who was crazy enough to confess by screaming his lungs out on top of a mountain clearing. He was to know him as the man who scrunches his nose whenever he eats bell peppers, yet eyes brighten when he sees a plate of meat. The list goes on without stopping. But most of all Kyungsoo wants to remember Jongin as the boy who took him in, turned his life around, upside down, and in directions Kyungsoo never imagined he’d go, and for that he thinks he owes him the world.
And that’s why, he thinks, as he pushes clothes and toiletries into the large travel bag he finds inside one of Jongin’s cupboards, he’s going to go.
He doesn’t know if it’ll be worth it. He doesn’t know if one day, Jongin will be caught. He doesn’t know if at some point everything will come crashing down. Maybe it already has. But Do Kyungsoo is tired to running away, running back to safety, and for once wants to live his life for his heart, and not his brain.
But as he’s racing towards a certain six-foot figure with his back turned towards him and calls out his name, falls into his arms and makes no plans of letting go, he knows that it’s taken more than just ‘love’ to drive him to make the decision that he did.
Because Kim Jongin made a promise.
He promised Do Kyungsoo that he’d show him the universe. And as far as Kyungsoo’s concerned, he still has so much more ‘living’ to do.