[fanfic] The Red Thread (2/2)
Title: The Red Thread (2/2)
Genre: Angst, Romance, Action
Rating: NC-17 for violence
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Words: 6,000+
The police and the mafia - a dream for one and a destiny for the other.
A/N: OHMYGOD I finally finished this. It was like something I had to finish or else it’d impede the normal functioning of my life. This turned out to be really, really long so I split them into 4 parts, two in each chapter. I don’t know who’s going to go through all 11,000 words of this, but kudos to you if you’ve made it through. This fic was inspired by an anime X, and some other movie influences like The Infernal Affairs. Semi-unbeta’ed. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! :D
Part 1. Part 2.
Part 3 - Choler
“Sir,” bowed the two men on both sides of the black wooden door. Nichkhun came to a stop. They were in a glossy white corridor, made ethereally bright by flourescent white ceiling lights. He eyed the two doorguards with some derision as they took a longer them than usual to swing open the door for him, keeping their heads bowed. Nichkhun silently walked past them into a darkened room within.
The room was spacious but mostly empty. In the middle of the room was a sole mahogany desk with some papers on it, and a gun. Behind the desk sat a vague silhouette shrouded in the shadows of the room. The lights in the room were mostly dimmed, except for a single spotlight that shone down in front of the desk Nichkhun walked slowly and steadily up the room. The dead silence in the room seemed to magnify the volume of his heels clicking as he walked. He finally stepped into the spotlight, remaining a respectful distance away from the desk, before he bowed. There was a small pinpoint flash of orange cinders as the man sucked on his cigarette. Nichkhun heard the barely audible crackling of ashes and a puff of blue smoke that chaotically dissipated in the air.
Nichkhun straightened his posture and remained still as a statue where he stood, the expression on his face never changing from the stoic one he kept on most of the time. He showed no signs of nerves, or fear, or even restlessness at the still silence of the room. He merely stood unmovingly, like an android awaiting instructions.
“I heard about what happened at the Central Bank,” came the man’s voice in a raspy high-pitched voice, with a feverish, staccato tone. It contrasted jarringly with the relaxed sinister posture that the man appeared to be in. If he hadn’t long proven that he had some of the coldest and best strategic minds in the mafia, one might’ve speculated he was perhaps not mentally sound. Most, if not all, who first spoke to him would remember their skin crawling at the first sound of his voice. Nichkhun, however, had no more reaction at this present moment.
“I have already made prior arrangements to get our funds from them within the next couple of days, sir,” Nichkhun replied monotonously. The man seemed to nod in satisfaction.
“And the police officer?”
Nichkhun fell silent. For an instant, his eyes flashed with some agitation, before the stoic mask fell back down again. He was silent.
“Detective Inspector Jang Wooyoung, isn’t it? You’ve had quite a history with him.”
Again, Nichkhun didn’t answer, but his posture noticeably stiffened. The man behind the desk chuckled, blowing another puff of cigarette smoke out. There was a longer period of silence this time. Nichkhun never moved.
“He’s been a thorn in our flesh for far too long, wouldn’t you agree?” Even through the shadows, Nichkhun could sense the wide, sinister grin on the man’s face as he said this.
“Yes,” he agreed monotonously.
“It’s time you help us to remove this thorn once and for all, then,” came the order. The man’s breath turned shallow and rapid, in a disturbing cross between a soft maniacal giggle and hyperventilation. The mirthless laugh was even more haunting than his jarring voice. Nichkhun blinked, before he slowly nodded.
“But remember,” came the man’s voice again, this time noticeably more excited. “Kill him, or we will kill you and then hunt him down. And you of all people should know how we play with our food before we eat it.”
“Rest assured, sir, I will not fail.”
The man broke into another fit of nervous giggle as Nichkhun bowed to take his leave.
*******
The funeral was only over just a few days ago. Wooyoung sat listlessly at his desk, staring into space. Inspector Kim’s family had been entirely devastated at his premature death in the frontline and though they placed no blame on any other officer, Wooyoung felt that the guilt lay squarely on his shoulders. He ought not to have followed Nichkhun’s instructions. He ought to have called headquarters first. He ought to have taken better care of his colleagues. But all these regrets were only the sidelines of what was truly preoccupying his mind for all this time.
“Inspector? He will see you now,” came the timid voice of a junior police officer. Wooyoung snapped out of his reverie and nodded solemnly before he made his way to the office.
He knocked on the door, awaited the acknowledgement before he let himself in and saluted the commissioner, standing at attention in front of his desk. The commissioner sighed and leaned back in his chair. Wooyoung swallowed as he stared straight ahead of him. He assumed he was going to get some form of reprimand or punishment for having lost his second-in-charge on the job, but he welcomed it. Maybe he might even be fired.
“Inspector Kim’s death is not your fault,” started the commissioner. Wooyoung flinched in surprise, and almost felt disappointed. “According to your testimony, he was shot down by #7381.”
“That is correct, sir,” Wooyoung responded, his steady voice masking the inner pang he felt at this mention of Nichkhun.
“The mafia has gotten away with too much in the past. We have lacked foresight to see into their plans and stem the tide earlier. It has culminated in the recent happenings - a mafia member shooting dead a police officer in broad daylight. It only shows how much regard they have for the presence of the police force in Seoul. This must be rectified, and I see potential in you, Wooyoung, to help us do that.”
Wooyoung didn’t answer. He didn’t see what potential the commissioner saw in him. Hadn’t he been in charge of the case and had failed? Not only had he failed, he had even indirectly incurred a fatality within the police force. He felt bewildered and almost surreal, as if he was being forced to play out a scene he wanted no part in, against his will.
“I know you feel that you’ve made an irreparable mistake in this recent case with the Central Bank, Wooyoung. You will not be demoted or removed, however. I have convinced the higher authorities that you are of great potential aide to the police force, and you will now prove yourself to us by hunting down #7381.”
Wooyoung pursed his lips, his eyes flashing dangerously. He felt the ridiculousness of this situation, as if he was in a dream, as if he was being unconsciously puppeteered by some force of sadism. He made no answer. His eyes wavered.
“Will you take on the mission?” prompted the commissioner severely.
After a second’s hestiation, Wooyoung saluted and answered, “Yes, sir.”
*******
A couple of weeks had since passed since Wooyoung had been given the mission. It was nothing less than bitter irony that he spent most of his day tracking down Nichkhun, but only with the purpose of arresting him or worse. He studied the movements of the mafia, but they were entirely elusive and had much association with the darker underground syndicates of the city that helped to cover their tracks perfectly. Following their footsteps was like trying to trace the path of an eel through murky water. But still, Wooyoung kept at it.
Others saw his determination as being motivated to clear his own good name for the Central Bank incident, but this was far from the truth. He wanted justice, but not for himself. He wanted to know what had turned Nichkhun into such a person, and to help him if he could. One did not change personalities so drastically in ten years without a good reason and Wooyoung wanted to find out what it was.
Finally, the day arrived. There was some definite tip-off that the mafia was to move a substantial shipment of illegal drugs from a warehouse in a remote part of the city, towards the port to be exported to other countries, and #7381 was in charge of this ‘project’. It was the best chance for the police to swoop in on this gathering, and arrest at least this faction of mafia members. They also believed apprehending #7381 and putting him under interrogation might yield some valuable information about the greater mafia overlords. What sort of interrogation technique they intended to use, Wooyoung did not know and did not want to know. Despite this, however, they had already issued the order to Wooyoung: fire at will.
As Wooyoung sat in the car chugging towards the warehouse, he constantly felt for the gun in the holster underneath his blazer. This time, if he should be placed in the situation, he wasn’t going to miss his mark. He stared into the darkness, replaying the rooftop scene over and over in his mind. The twisted grin, the acid mockery from the voice that he had been so familiar with and had loved so well at one point. The coldness of his face and his eyes as he squeezed the trigger. He wondered if Nichkhun even remembered the times they had spent together all those years ago. Or had they not meant anything to him since then? Why had he joined the mafia? For money? For protection? For power?
The car arrived at the destination and the police officers filed out, hiding underneath the bushes and the shadows of night. In front of them was the open door of a large warehouse. Inside the warehouse, they could see an immense amount of crates, stacked on top of one another. A forklift was in the process of moving some of these crates onto several cargo vans. The entire process was being directed by some men in black suits. The police officers waited for some minutes. When the first cargo van moved off, Wooyoung gave the signal.
The police sneaked in by the side door and quietly subdued 2 or 3 men within a few minutes. Wooyoung crouched beside a tall metal shelf, taking in the scene before him. Most of the mafia men were not yet aware of the police presence in the building and still getting ready the crates for transport. He hand-signalled his colleagues to split up and try to avoid exposing their position as far as possible.
Bang! There was a ear-splitting gunshot and a high-pitched whistle as a bullet ricocheted off metal. It had only missed Wooyoung’s head by less than a meter. He flinched, his entire body tense with shock as he instictively drew out his gun, his eyes searching for his assailant. The gunshot had already roused the mafia men in the warehouse, all of whom began whipping out weapons and looking around in high alert. Wooyoung gave a signal for his colleagues to go all-out as he continued to look around for the gunsman.
It was then that he caught sight of him once more. The gun was, by then, lowered, but it was still smoking. Nichkhun - staring straight at him from a distance away. When had he noticed Wooyoung’s entrance into the warehouse? Had he actually intended to shoot Wooyoung there and then? Wooyoung might have felt more emotions about this if the adrenaline hadn’t already taken over his body. Instead of continuing his assault, Nichkhun spun on his heels and walked into a smaller containing area of the warehouse. Crouching as he ran, Wooyoung chased after him.
As soon as he entered the containing area, Wooyoung heard a whirring noise as the metal shutters began to close down upon the entrance. He was trapped. The containing area was spacious in itself, though not as large as the main warehouse. It, too, contained stacks and stacks of crates, but it had a large clear space in the middle. There was a deathly silence in this place and no sign of Nichkhun. His pulse accelerated as he quickly took cover behind a crate, his eyes darting everywhere trying to find a trace of Nichkhun, but there was none.
“Wooyoung,” came the echoes of Nichkhun’s voice around the hollow room. Wooyoung looked all around him, trying to find its origin. The echoes made it difficult for Wooyoung to pinpoint any one direction from which the voice might be from. “You’re here to arrest me, aren’t you?”
Wooyoung didn’t answer. He merely clutched his gun tighter and continued to pace silently behind the crates.
“What’s wrong?” said Nichkhun. Wooyoung could hear the grin of malice as he said this. “It’s just the two of us in this room. So come and arrest me.”
Again, Wooyoung kept silent, but only gritted his teeth. He never hated Nichkhun so much as he did now.
“I still remember you called me Nichkhun-sshi the last time we met, I find that very unfriendly. Don’t you think it’s much better to stick to hyung, like old times?”
Wooyoung’s hands were shivering with wrath now. In his moment of blind fury, he lost the split second to react when a black shadow flashed round the corner of a crate and swiped ferociously at him. Wooyoung was flung off-balance by the force of the strike and in this instant, Nichkhun grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against a blunt protrusion on the wall. Wooyoung felt the sickening crunch of a rib cracking and could barely breathe from the sharp pain burning through his body like electricity. There was a deep cut across his cheek from the knife that Nichkhun had been holding, which was now trickling blood down his chin, his jaw and his neck. Wooyoung was temporarily immobile, as every single movement brought a fresh wave of pain from his cracked rib.
Nichkhun pressed his body against Wooyoung’s to hold him against the wall, as he looked down at him, pressing the edge of his blade dangerously against the exposed skin. He bent his face downwards and lightly licked the blood off his neck. Biting his lips, Wooyoung mustered his energy to shove Nichkhun roughly backwards and raised his gun weakly, but Nichkhun had already scampered behind a crate. The adrenaline had subsided the pain into a dull manageable throb on his back now, as Wooyoung pushed himself off the wall and staggered forwards, wiping the sweat off his brow. The cut on his cheek had already stopped bleeding, but Wooyoung could still feel the light brush of Nichkhun’s tongue on his neck, as he cringed in disgust.
Wooyoung crouched down behind a crate, his movements slightly awkward and stunted by his attempting not to shift the cracked rib anymore than he needed to. All around him was still the same dead silence as before. It was in that moment of emotion that he had allowed Nichkhun the chance to strike, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again. Forcibly calming himself, Wooyoung listened closely to the still air of the room, his breathing slowed down. For almost a whole minute, there was a disturbing, complete silence and Wooyoung felt a knotting in his stomach.
Finally, a barely audible faint rustle rounding the corner of the crate.
Wooyoung did a side roll and was only just in time to dodge the glint of the blade once more. This time, he grabbed hold of Nichkhun’s arm and swung him ferociously into the center clearing. Not having anticipated Wooyoung’s sudden rebound attack, Nichkhun was too surprised to stop this sudden momentum and was thrown unceremoniously into the center of the clearing. At the same moment, both of them stood up from where they were and whipped out their guns at each other, panting.
Nichkhun’s gun pointed towards Wooyoung’s head, while Wooyoung’s was aimed at his heart.
Nichkhun laughed, though his eyes remained solemn. “So we’ve come down to this,” he nodded. “But you can’t do it, can you?”
Wooyoung cocked his gun in reply, the click resounding through the room. His eyes were brimming with tears as he glared at Nichkhun, who grinned and prepared his own gun.
“Really? You’re going to kill your hyung?” Nichkhun tilted his head sarcastically, the grin never leaving his face.
“My hyung has been dead for ten years,” Wooyoung replied callously. Nichkhun’s grin faded slightly. “You’re not my hyung.”
The grin turned into an ugly scowl of malice now, as if the stoic mask had only just been dropped. Wooyoung was almost shocked at how sinister Nichkhun was capable of looking, but it only strengthened his resolution. “You’re lying,” Nichkhun growled unconvincingly, and his finger began to squeeze the trigger. Wooyoung’s eyes widened.
Bam! The gunshot echoed like thunder around the room.
Part 4 - Melancholia
Present day.
Wooyoung couldn’t breathe. His eyes were round with shock as he stared wordlessly at Nichkhun’s pale face. So many unanswered questions were surfacing in his mind, threatening to drown him out. From them stemmed an even larger hasty regret. Nichkhun only smiled back at him.
It was a genuine smile. Nichkhun’s gun lay on the floor, where he had deliberately dropped it at the very last moment. Wooyoung’s hand was still trembling, the smoking gun in his hand hot from the blast. It was a chest wound - a fatal wound. Nichkhun staggered backwards, but his legs buckled. Wooyoung dropped his gun and rushed towards him, catching hold of his limp body as he fell to the ground.
“Hyung!” Wooyoung shouted, tears stinging his eyes as he sat on the dusty concrete, clutching onto Nichkhun. The blood was already forming a growing pool on the floor. Nichkhun reached into his pocket and weakly drew out unused bullets. Wooyoung stared at it and then looked at Nichkhun’s gun on the floor, his breathing shallow as his mind fought to comprehend what was going on.
“I’m sorry,” Nichkhun whispered hoarsely. His eyes were already half-lidded as he raised a hand, quivering with the exertion, and his fingers lightly stroked Wooyoung’s cheeks. The tears were streaming freely down Wooyoung’s face now but he could only stare, almost catatonic, at Nichkhun.
“Hyung, no…” Wooyoung could only repeatedly mutter to himself, blinking the tears fiercely out of his eyes but Nichkhun was already slipping away. He smiled up at him, the blood trickling out of his mouth as his hand clutched Wooyoung’s hand tightly, for one last time. And then his grip loosened.
*******
10 years ago.
“How was your physical training lesson today?” asked Nichkhun as they entered Wooyoung’s room.
“It sucked so bad. I really have no stamina, hyung, I need to train up on that,” complained Wooyoung as he flung his schoolbag under his desk. Nichkhun laughed as he embraced Wooyoung from behind.
“I think I can help with that,” Nichkhun whispered into his ear. Wooyoung turned red from embarrassment.
“Hyung, I’m all sweaty and stinky, are you sure you want to hug me like that?”
“Stinky, really?” Nichkhun leaned down and began to sniff Wooyoung’s neck, the tip of his nose brushing lightly against his skin. Despite himself, Wooyoung closed his eyes, tilted his neck more and groaned softly as he felt a familiar heated stirring in his core. Nichkhun smiled to himself at having incited such a quick reaction in Wooyoung. He raised his head and nibbled lightly on Wooyoung’s earlobes before he whispered, “You smell fine to me.”
“Oh, stop it!” protested Wooyoung, snapping his eyes open as redness tinged his cheeks. Nichkhun laughed and released Wooyoung from his hug.
“You sure you don’t want me to help you clean up in the shower?” asked Nichkhun with a wicked smile on his face. Wooyoung made an impatient noise without turning around as he headed off to the shower.
Nichkhun curled up on Wooyoung’s sofa, ready to take a nap, before a familiar ring tone began to sound.
He flipped open Wooyoung’s cell phone, only to see a private number. Without thinking twice, he answered the call, grinning and expecting it to be one of their mutual school friends. “Hello?” he answered brightly. As the call progressed, his grin faded.
*******
Nichkhun walked slowly down the stairs of Wooyoung’s house and went into the kitchen, where Wooyoung’s mother was seated at the dining table mending some clothes.
“Mrs Jang,” he greeted solemnly. She looked up at him in surprise.
“What’s with you today, Nichkhun? Failed a test? Where’s Wooyoung?”
“He’s asleep,” Nichkhun said dismissively before he took a seat at the dining table with her. He didn’t say a word as he stared downwards.
“What’s wrong?” asked Wooyoung’s mom, putting down her sewing.
“How did Wooyoung’s father die?” asked Nichkhun directly, looking up at her. Her expression froze over as she looked away from him.
“In an accident,” she said affectedly. Nichkhun shook his head.
“When Wooyoung was in the shower just now, he got a call which I picked up for him.”
Wooyoung’s mom turned to look at him in horror, her face draining of colour within those few seconds. Nichkhun continued staring at her. Tears stung her eyes as she buried her face in her hands.
“He was in the mafia, wasn’t he?” continued Nichkhun, though it pained him to see such a usually self-composed woman break down in that way.
It was some time before Wooyoung’s mother composed herself enough to look back up at Nichkhun with bloodshot eyes, glazed over in memories. She nodded slowly. “You’re right. He wasn’t just in the mafia. He was one of their overlords. He murdered, he stole, he extorted, he committed every crime I could think of. But then… When people finally fall in love and want to settle down, there’re a lot of things they are willing to sacrifice. We married, and he left the mafia.
“But the mafia isn’t a job that you can just quit whenever you want. When you’re in it, you’re in it for life. He was seen as a defector and a traitor, so we had to elope. We settled down in a tiny village, and managed to live a few years of happiness, but… the mafia found us. I don’t know what happened, but he came back home one day… and he was covered in his blood.” At this point, Wooyoung’s mom broke down and began to sob convulsively into her hands. Nichkhun could only stare down at the table in sorrow as she composed herself.
“Before he died, he made Wooyoung promise that he’d never leave me. At that time, Wooyoung was only less than 3 years old. I doubt he remembers this. But the thing about the mafia is that, not only do you have to join it for life, but it was their law of brotherhood that your eldest son after you must also be part of the mafia. Neither his dad nor I wanted such a future for Wooyoung, so I quickly moved out of that village and escaped to this inconspicuous one.
“I lived in constant fear for the next few years, afraid that one day they would come for Wooyoung. But there was still no sign of them after he had turned 7, so I thought and hoped that they had forgotten all about him. But… now…” Again, Wooyoung’s mom crumbled into a series of sobs. Nichkhun closed his eyes, replaying the phone call in his mind. There was only one solution out of this mess.
“They’ve almost caught up with him, Mrs Jang. You need to leave immediately. Take him as far away from here as possible. Go to the other end of the country,” Nichkhun instructed, placing an encouraging hand on Wooyoung’s mom’s shoulder. His words seemed to bring her back down to the harsh reality that they were facing as she quelled her sobs and nodded urgently.
“I’ll… come by later after you’ve broken the news to him,” he announced before he let himself out of the house. The sky was overcast and thunders sounded in the distance as he made his way back to the orphanage.
*******
Nichkhun stared as the moving van got smaller and smaller in the distance. There was a dull pain in his chest as he wondered if he’d ever see Wooyoung again. But it was for the best - it was better than Wooyoung have to endure a whole life in the mafia. As he turned around, a large force struck him on his cheek and he fell to the ground.
“Where did he go?” demanded a gruff voice. Nichkhun looked up, only to find several bulky men in black suits gathering around him. He rubbed the sore spot on his cheek and stared up at the man with a clear defiant expression. The man struck him again before he gave a signal to the others, who rounded in on him.
When they finally stopped, Nichkhun was lying on the dusty floor in a quivering, bloody heap. His face was so distorted with swellings and cuts that he couldn’t feel the blood dripping into his swollen eye. The leader of the gang bent down and grabbed hold of his left wrist before he wordlessly dislocated it with a snap. Nichkhun screamed in pain as tears sprang to his eyes. The man placed his foot over the dislocated wrist and began to place pressure on it as Nichkhun writhed in agony.
“Tell me where he is,” the man whispered sinisterly.
Nichkhun stopped writhing. He glared up at the man though he could barely see him through his swollen eyes. “Fuck you,” he hissed.
The man clenched his teeth and dug his feet down on Nichkhun’s dislocated wrist and twisted it even more. The pain was too much for Nichkhun to bear before he lost consciousness mid-scream. The man spat down on Nichkhun’s body and signalled to the others. “Take him.”
*******
Present day.
Everything was over. Wooyoung sat in the empty police office. It was almost past midnight now and everyone had gone home. The mission was a sound success, but nobody dared to congratulate or to talk to him about it. He had been walking around lifelessly for the past week, but everyone assumed he was merely exhausted from the mission, and from all the paperwork. The superiors had suggested that he take a break, but he had refused, wanting to see the case all the way through. The mafia in Seoul had all but collapsed by now, and the police had been having a busy time cracking down all the dens and secret headquarters. The mafia overlord had already earned a death sentence.
But it all meant nothing much to Wooyoung. He stared at the cassette tape in front of him. It had only just been discovered amongst Nichkhun’s possessions, addressed to him. The forensics department had only given it to him today, and he had waited until he was alone before he dared to play it.
With quivering hands, he inserted the cassette into a player and pressed play.
“Hello?” came Nichkhun’s unsure voice over the speakers. Wooyoung already couldn’t help the tears that were stinging his eyes. Once again, his body felt like it might explode from the pain, as he wished so hard against logic that Nichkhun would be alive once more.
“If you’re hearing this, Wooyoung…. You pulled the trigger, didn’t you?” Nichkhun laughed bitterly. But he sounded different now. There was no more mockery or hardness in his voice. Wooyoung sobbed even more; it was almost exactly the same voice as he had remembered from a decade back. “That’s good, that’s good. I guess if you’re hearing this, I should be buried six feet underground by now. Thank God.
“I’m so sorry, Wooyoung. I owe you a lot of explanations. You must probably hate me by this point, and I honestly don’t blame you. I can only hope and pray that my plan has succeeded, and that the police database successfully got the information about the mafia that I have transferred.
“There’re a lot of things you don’t know, Wooyoung. I thought your mother might have told you about it, but then you told me that she passed away before you even reached Busan. I knew then that you didn’t know. So let me tell you.”
Wooyoung listened in the greatest astonishment as Nichkhun began to narrate the story of how he had picked up that call, and how he had found out from Wooyoung’s mom about the true story behind his father’s death. Wooyoung was numb from shock as he heard about his own presumed destiny of joining the mafia, and how Nichkhun had intercepted; how Nichkhun had been the one to suggest and encourage his mother to bring him away to Busan, and then how the mafia had abducted him.
“The thing about the mafia is that when they want to kill someone, they don’t just shoot them dead on the spot. That’d be too much of a luxury for anyone that’s offended them. They send them instead to a secret prison camp. This was where I was sent to after that day. Even now, I don’t want to refresh my memories of that place. But let me just say that every day I wished I was dead. I wished I could just die in my sleep, because they wouldn’t let you commit suicide. They gave you enough food and water to keep you going, just so they could break your spirit all over again the next day. If you refused to eat, they would force-feed you in the worst way imaginable.
“When I was there, I met this boy. He was older than me, but he had been there for so much longer. When I met him, he was barely alive. He told me that he was the son of a defector, and that he refused to join the mafia so they threw him in there for almost a few years. He reminded me of you, and I was horrified. It was like seeing what would have happened to you if you hadn’t escaped in time. But it also strengthened me. If the pain I was going through would keep you out of that place, I’d do it. I faced each day more bravely, because the thought of you kept me going.
“The mafia leaders found out that we had become friends and one day, for their entertainment, the mafia leaders summoned us. They placed a gun in front of us, and said one of us had to kill the other, or both of us would be placed under even more severe torture. I looked at the boy, and he looked at me, and it didn’t take me long to see that message in his eyes. Without hesitation, I grabbed the gun and shot him in the head at point-blank range. I still remember the smile on his face as he fell to the ground, relieved to be released from a life that was worse than death.
“The mafia leaders believed that I was as cruel and heartless as they were. They had never seen anyone betray a friend so fast before, and they liked it. What they didn’t know was, I never betrayed him. He had often told me that the thing he wished most in the world was to die, and that was what I helped him do, in the quickest, most painless way possible. Eventually, the mafia leaders groomed me to join the mafia as well. I had no choice in the matter. They often reminded me that I was only taking your place in the mafia, and that I was your substitute. I didn’t mind.
“Being part of the mafia, I had to prove myself able to take innocent lives. I did it by constantly reminding myself that as unfortunate as it was to die, it was a blessing for these people not to have gone through fates worse than death. Furthermore, I constantly told myself I was doing this to protect the one life that I valued most in the world - which was you. It was perhaps selfish of me. I don’t deny that, after a while, I got desensitized to killing people, but I never enjoyed it. My time in the mafia was nothing but a lifetime of agony for me.
“After I had risen in the ranks of the mafia, the overlord began to forget all about you for which I was glad. I hoped they never remembered you again. I was willing to spend the rest of my life in the mafia if you could be kept away from it. But then you came back and of all things, you were put in charge of my case in the police force. I hoped I could somehow persuade you to leave Seoul. I told you to go back to Busan, but you’ve always been that pig-headed, Wooyoung. I hoped that at least the mafia overlord wouldn’t hear of your being back within his jurisidction, but even there, I was wrong.
“They asked me to kill you, Wooyoung, as I had expected them to. I guess they found some twisted amusement in seeing me, as your substitute in the mafia, take your life. They said I had to kill you, or they would kill you themselves. I knew what that meant - they were going to hunt you down and send you to the prison camp. I would never, never have let that happen.
“I deliberately let slip the tip-off about the warehouse. And now, I’ve programmed my cellphone to send the police database all the required information within a few moments of my death. I could never kill you, Wooyoung, so it only remains for you to kill me instead. The stage is all set, and all you need to do is pull the trigger. I assume you have already. Don’t feel sad or guilty about this. You’re releasing me from a life I have long lost all interest in, except for you. This is the perfect ending for a wretched person. If you’re still alive now, then I’m very happy to have succeeded.
“Time is running out, and I need to set the plan in motion soon. So now, it only remains for me to sign off here. The only regret I’d have now is not to be able to talk to you and have another proper conversation with you.” Here, Nichkhun’s voice began to quiver. “Sometimes I’d think - what an irony life is, that you’re living out my dream and I’m living out your destiny. You once asked me whether I believed in destiny, Wooyoung, and I scoffed at you. Now - I don’t even really know. Seeing you again was already a blessing to me. I never thought I’d even get to do that.
“So with that, I’ll just tell you again, as I told you ten years ago: I love you, Wooyoung. I love you. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way anymore, I don’t care if you’ve moved on in your life without me. I don’t even care if you feel disgusted at this. I love you and that has never, and will never change. I love you forever and always, as I told you last time. I haven’t forgotten that. Thank you for having been in my life, and having made me into a stronger person. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you. I’m sorry for not being able to be with you for the rest of your life. I’m sorry for all the things you had to endure because of me.
“When you play this tape, I’d be dead, but please don’t forget me, Wooyoung. I’m not even asking you to love me back, just - don’t forget me. Consider that as my last selfish request, Wooyoung. Please don’t… I love you… I love you so much…” Nichkhun choked back a sob, and then the tape ended.
Wooyoung stared at as the tape stopped rolling. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. His tears had already run dry. He lifted his shivering left hand to stroke the tape, as his right hand withdrew a blade from his desk.
“Hyung, I never stopped loving you…” he whimpered, his eyes blankly staring at the tape. “I love you too… Don’t worry… I’ll never forget you… I’ll never forget you…”
The knife fell to the ground in a clatter. Ruby red drops stained the white marble tiles of the police department.
*******
The cool spring breeze blew aross the meadow, rustling the grass. The sun was almost setting now, but the two little boys were not done yet.
“Hyung!” cried Wooyoung, panting and grinning as he pulled on the boots that had come off. “Wait for me!”
“Hurry!” beckoned Nichkhun impatiently, but bouncing up and down excitedly. “The frogs in the stream will almost all be gone by now!”
Wooyoung bit his tongue as he finally fastened his boots. He ran to catch up with Nichkhun, their laughter tinkling like windchimes in the spring air.