18. Red
Title: Red
Rating: NC-17 [For gore, semi-graphic description]
Pairing: 2min
Word Count: 5,641
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in here.
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He always loved the color red.
He was ten when he first saw the true beauty of the color, shining, glistening, gleaming as it oozed out of his finger ever so slowly. Lifting his thick thumb closer to his eyes, he watched the blood collect at the tip, slowly trickling down as he pressed at the base of the finger with his free hand. It was beautiful, how the color painted his skin red, how his skin glowed a magnificent red after.
He simply loved how the color stood out from the others, as if screaming ‘Look at me’. He loved how it contrasted with many others, how it matched so perfectly with some. He loved red.
He started to prick his finger more often, using arts and craft or sports as an excuse to hurt himself, but before long, he had grown bored of the red in him.
For the years that followed, he collected samples of red liquid from various animals. Dead animals, rats, birds, dogs, cats, anything he could get his hands on. He stole his mother’s knives eventually, using them to dismember the different body parts. If his guilty conscience ever tried to reason with him, he’d simply argue that it was for scientific research, and that nothing was better than hands-on practice. And that was that.
Taemin sighed as he watched people move in and out of the dance floor, watched wasted people stumble here and there, watched scantily dressed people search around with those dark, dark eyes of theirs. Key and a very drunk Onew had left a couple of minutes ago, leaving the twenty five year old forensics expert alone in the club they visited every Friday. It had become a tradition for them, he supposed, to shake the stress away and maybe dance a little. But it was boring without them, he decided. Downing the last of his beer, he grabbed his coat from the bar top and left.
Arriving home well past midnight, Taemin found it odd that boxes had been placed outside the door of the empty apartment next to his own, a well-built man trying to lift it all inside. Nobody in their right mind would be moving in at this hour, he thought. He stared for a bit before the man finally noticed him, giving him a smile and walking in his direction.
“Hello, you must be my new neighbor.” He said, using his free hand to wipe off the sweat that had collected on his forehead, the other outstretched. Taemin eyed him cautiously. The man was tall, no doubt about that. Tall, dark, and really quite handsome, his face perfectly framed with dark brown hair that curled slightly by his ears, large doe eyes staring expectantly at him. The man quite obviously made frequent trips to the gym, no doubt about that. “Ah. I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Choi Minho, just moved in next door a couple of minutes ago.” He tilted his head to the mess behind.
“I can see that.” Taemin replied curtly, lips tugging upwards. “I’m Lee Taemin. It’s nice to meet you.” He shook Minho’s hand firmly. “If you need help for anything, just give me a holler. The heater can be a bitch sometimes.” He joked, and Minho chuckled. He liked the sound of it.
“I’ll be sure to do just that.”
Taemin smiled.
The next morning, it wasn’t his alarm that woke him up, but the insistent rapping on the door. Grumbling, Taemin involuntarily slipped out of bed, dragging his soles across the wooden floor as he scratched his ass, yelling “I’m coming, Jesus Christ.”
Opening the door, he met the bemused gaze of Minho, obviously amused with the way Taemin looked.
“Why the fuck are you making so much noise at nine in the morning, Choi-sshi?” He grumbled, combing his fingers through his bedhead.
“You were right, the heater’s a bitch.”
That was how Taemin had spent his Saturday and Sunday, helping Minho sort of through his mess of an apartment, helping him fix the heating and a couple of problems here and there. He’d gotten to know Minho better during the two days, that he would be working down at the police station that Taemin worked at starting Monday, in the exact same department, how he was transferred from the Incheon branch to the main one here in Seoul, that he was two years Taemin’s senior, how he already did have a girlfriend (much to Taemin’s annoyance) and how he thought that Taemin was cute, which in fact, did please the young forensics expert, no matter how many times people had told him that.
And so Taemin had taken a liking to Minho, especially after he’d taken him out to dinner at the hotpot restaurant near their place. Shutting his door behind him, Taemin smiled to himself as he heard Minho’s retreating footsteps.
Taemin felt an odd sense of accomplishment when Kibum paired Minho with Taemin for the time being, instructing him to show Minho the ropes, before he’d noticed Taemin’s oddly genuine smile. Key raised an eyebrow.
“He might not be gay, you know.” The head of department whispered into Taemin’s ear before leaving, but not before mischievously jabbing his elbow into Taemin’s waist, giving him a knowing smile. Taemin stuck his leg out in response, effectively tripping the older male and earning himself a few disapproving tuts from the elder of the two.
Taemin knew for a fact that Minho was certainly not gay. He’d met Minho’s girlfriend once, while she was waiting outside the office for him after work. She was pretty, no doubt about that. A small, pointed nose, high cheekbones, milky white skin, big eyes, and silky raven hair that fell to the nape of her neck. He’d learnt later on that he name was Lee Taeyeon, and that she was working as a dance teacher in a school nearby. Nice enough, he thought as he shook her hand. Minho later commented that they were similar in more ways than one, and Taemin laughed.
It wasn’t long before they had to work on a case together, Taemin thought, when Key called a couple of people into his office for a brief. But it was weird that Key seemed to be a little more shaken than usual. He’d always maintained his calm while working on a case, no matter how gruesome it was, no matter how puzzling it was. Taemin crossed his arms as Key paced about, all eyes on him, waiting for an explanation.
“I think you guys should see it for yourself.” The man said instead, offering no other information.
Taemin had worked on quite a couple of murder cases, each of which was puzzling in their own way, but this one, he supposed, wasn’t quite like them. The victim was a woman aged thirty, pretty darn wealthy, and pretty darn pretty. She’d apparently gone to a nightclub that night, left alone, and the next thing her family knew, she was as dead as dead could be.
Her breast laid somewhere in the corner of the room, the body right in the center, below the chandelier where the head was hung on a rope, droplets of red dripping onto the puddle below. Her eyes were gorged, dangling on her ears like earrings, her dismembered fingers (pretty long, Taemin noted) were stuck in its place. Her detached feet placed near the door, heels still strapped to her ankles.
Snapping pictures of different parts and the blood splatters on the wall, Taemin scrunched his nose up. The killer had engraved words below her left and remaining breast, “1. Hello.”
Minho kept quiet throughout the time when they were in the crime scene, as if pondering something, but Taemin paid no mind to it.
The killer was meticulous, as if he’d practiced and rehearsed this many times before, like preparing for a show. He’d left no hair, no blood, no fingerprints, no saliva, nothing but the victim’s own blood. It was as if he or she had never stepped into the room.
The time they’d spent on the case had dragged on, and as time passed, the higher ups had decided to cut the number of people on the team. The longer it took, the less people they had, and finally, they’d filed it as a cold case. They simply had no lead.
Minho had left the team before Taemin did, and when they finally stopped the investigations, he’d brought Taemin out for a drink. Taemin was thankful, in that sense. Minho sat quietly as he watched Taemin shake the shallow cup, staring at the way the ice hit the sides of it. He’d always felt down if he couldn’t help to solve a case, so he enjoyed the company very much. Slightly drunk, Taemin held onto Minho’s shoulder as the older male kept a firm grip on his waist, helping him open the door to his apartment. He’d set the slightly shorter boy down onto the bed, tiptoeing backwards as the said boy shut his eyes. Taemin thanked him, though it was slightly more than a whisper. Minho smiled and kissed him on his forehead.
Taemin liked the way it felt.
And time passed by again uneventfully, for the red head, at least. He’d helped in more cases, watched Minho and Taeyeon act lovey-dovey, met up with parents, gone out with Minho once or twice every week, went out to the usual bar every Friday with Key and Onew, watch Minho and cleaned his apartment.
Four months had passed since the case, and around five since Minho had moved in, and Taemin realized that he couldn’t think of Minho as just his neighbor or colleague, or even a friend for that matter. He wanted Minho, and Taeyeon really wasn’t helping.
She was very nice and hospitable, he admitted. Her laugh was really cute and so was the way she spoke, but he hated it when she held onto Minho’s arm, hated it when they hugged, hated it when they kissed. He hated it.
So he supposed that he was supposed to feel a little happy when he’d heard the two quarrel in Minho’s apartment (the walls were very thin), and he did feel even more happy when Taeyeon had left in a hurry, her sniffs echoing through the empty halls.
He didn’t, however, like how sad Minho looked after. He’d knocked on Minho’s door, frowning after the said boy opened the door.
“Are you okay?” Taemin asked, and Minho’s frown deepened. The older boy scratched the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear that.” He said instead, sighing a little.
“It’s okay. Just wanted to know if you’re okay.” Taemin smiled, though it was a strained one. “Well, if you need to talk, just give me a holler. You know where I’ll be anyway.” The red haired boy started to walk back to his own apartment.
Minho chuckled. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish Taeyeon was more like you.”
Taemin smiled.
Taemin found out a week later that Taeyeon was upset that Minho wasn’t spending as much time with her recently, which was a stupid reason to be upset about, he thought, because he knew how busy Minho was with work, and that he’d tried to spend as much time with her as possible, but Minho shrugged. She hadn’t been responding to her calls since the fight, apparently, and Minho was quite worried. He’d tried to go to her workplace, but she’d taken leave, apparently going out of the country for some thinking time.
Taemin thought that it was selfish of her to do so, but Minho said it would probably be good for the both of them. Taemin wasn’t complaining though. Since then, Minho had been spending more and more time with him. Maybe it was his resemblance to Taeyeon, or maybe he was just lonely, Taemin didn’t know, but he didn’t mind either. He was just happy that they were spending more time together, and that was all he cared about.
It was the end of October when the killer had returned, this time going after a body builder, aged twenty six. The man was reported to have been exercising at home with a couple of friends over playing his game consoles and drinking some beer, but they had left at around midnight, leaving him alone in his own home. He had been un-contactable for the following few days, until they’d decided to break his door down only to find rotting, dismembered parts.
Snapping away once again, Taemin stuck close to Minho as he took a look around the room, wrinkling his nose a little as the stench of rotting meat filled his senses.
This time, the killer had opted to hand the victim’s entire arm cut, one fist stuffed into the corpse’s mouth, the other arm placed upright on top of the television. As with the earlier one, he or she had gorged his eyes out, but his time, placed nothing in his sockets. His eyeballs were later found in the huge hole in his abdomen, his intestines removed and tied around his neck, guts all over his body. The murderer had stuffed the hole with candy too.
Written with blood on his chest, the words read ‘2. Happy Halloween.’
As with the earlier murder, there was absolutely no trace of the killer.
And so the department was puzzled, the team was puzzled. The two victims had absolutely no connection whatsoever, nor any similarities. Taemin frowned and grumbled a little as he looked at the blood samples again, his head throbbing. Minho ruffled his hair affectionately in response.
Trouble started when the media had gotten wind of it, and started dubbing the killer “Numbers” after the messages he’d left behind, and Taemin thought that the name was stupid, and Minho agreed.
The two had worked overtime together, trying to help out in any way, but it was to no avail. The killer was a professional, they’d bet. And a male, probably tall and strong, with experience in the police field, otherwise he’d have left a small trail for the police to follow.
Taeyeon came back during the period of the second murder, standing outside the gates of the station, shocking both Minho and Taemin as they walked out after a tiring day. Minho ran to her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand as Taemin stood still, watching the two talk and reconcile with a kiss. He had two cans of beer mixed with banana milk later that night.
The next murder took place three weeks from the second, this time going after a forty year old entrepreneur who again, had absolutely no similarities or relation to the previous two, but had again been murdered when he was alone, a message left for the police after.
His head, this time round, was removed from the body, split apart, brain dug out and mashed with what Minho presumed was a hammer. His lungs were removed, throat slit probably after he died, one of his toes stuffed down the windpipe. Eyes as usual had been gorged, nothing placed in the sockets.
On his left chest, burnt into his skin, the killer wrote;”3. Don’t smoke.”
The public was getting worried, and so was the department.
Things were uneventful from then. Minho had started to spend more time with Taeyeon, essentially less time with Taemin, except from the times when they were at work, or at lunch, otherwise, they never met at all. And that irked Taemin.
What irked Taemin even more, was that he found out only a couple of days after that Minho was engaged. He cried that night, downing his sorrows in beer and pudding, and a little ramen with honey and chili.
The fourth murder, however, was one that brought grief to Minho, and was perhaps the most gruesome of them all.
Taeyeon had been found in her own apartment about two weeks after their engagement, limbs torn apart and strewn all over the place, head placed on the dining table, as if displayed for all to see. Body cut into perfect halves, her insides spilling everywhere, some stuck to the walls, her eyes had been dug out, as usual, and tongue removed, nowhere to be found. Her ring finger had been sliced, ring bloodied, placed before her head, red letters on the table reading ‘LIAR’.
Minho was later forcefully removed from the scene, from the case, and taken back to the police station for investigations.
Watching Minho from behind the two-way mirror felt weird and incredibly wrong, Taemin thought as he watched the older man fidget in his chair, eyebrows furrowed together as his eyes darted around the room.
Feeling a hand rest on his shoulder, Taemin sighed, not taking his eyes off the man in custody.
“Kibum hyung, this isn’t right. Minho’s one of us. He loves Taeyeon.” He turned to face the head of department. “He just got engaged to her, for Christ sake. Why the fuck would he kill her?”
“Taemin, as much as I’d love to release him- and you know I do, for the love of god. I know him just as well as you do, but I can’t do anything about it. The higher-ups think that they have a lead, a suspect, I don’t know. All I do know, is that Minho is to be kept here until they’re done interrogating him.” Kibum pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to follow the law.”
Turning towards Minho once more, Taemin stomped his foot, surprising the brunette a little. “Well then, the law is fucked. Minho is innocent.” He spat as he shoved past Kibum.
By the time the interrogation had ended, Minho was the police’s prime suspect. Slamming the mahogany door open, Taemin glared at Kibum who only looked up at him in mild shock. “He’s. Innocent.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Taemin. Quite frankly, he fits the bill perfectly. The killings start after he moves to town, he’s quite skilled in his area of work, he knows how the police works, he is extremely careful, he had a quarrel with his fiancé a few weeks prior to her death -bless her soul. That, and he had visited her that night, and that was the last time she was spotted alive.”
Taemin groaned, slamming his palms against the table that Kibum leaned across.
“You know him. He isn’t one to do this, hyung!”
“Honestly, Taemin, I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Kibum resigned, shutting his eyes. “Let me ask you a question.”
“I don’t have time for games, hyung.”
“How well do you know Minho, hm? Do you know what he does at night, his behavior, likes, dislikes, hobbies, passions?” Taemin remained silent. “That’s what I thought.” Kibum leaned back, his chair squeaking a little. “For the time being, we have to treat him like he’s a criminal, like a murderer. We can’t take risks, Taemin-ah.” He sighs.
“That’s not what you said before.”
The killings continued though, much to the department’s dismay, and they were much more frequent (perhaps once every two weeks or one), much more gruesome, much more vicious, and much more puzzling.
The higher ups, eventually, let Minho go, on the account that he was monitored, and that his badge would be taken away until further notice. Heaving a sigh of relief as he heard the door for the apartment next to his own unlock, Taemin let his body relax, closing it for a second or two before opting to visit Minho.
Upon hearing sobs and sniffs, Taemin froze, his hand positioned to knock. He wondered if Minho was crying beyond that door, he wondered if the man was hurting. Backing up a little, the floorboard squeaked rather loudly under his weight, and the sounds stopped, the door swinging open instead.
“Taemin.” Minho breathed, as the younger of the two gulped.
“Uhm. Hi.” He let his arm drop limply to his side, the other scratching the nape of his neck as he looked at the ground, silently cursing the old building. “Just wondering if you’re okay.”
Minho looked disheveled, to say the least, as he gave a small nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.” He said, looking at the ground. “I’m fine.” He repeats again, wrapping his arms around his form as if to provide himself some comfort, and Taemin pulls Minho into a hug.
“You don’t have to hide things from me. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to laugh, laugh. If you want to talk, go ahead. I’m here for you, Minho, I’m here.” He pats the elder’s back, water droplets wetting his shoulder, strong arms winding itself around his waist.
Taemin sleeps over in Minho’s apartment that night, humming soothing lullabies and stroking Minho’s back as he slept.
He wakes up the next morning, alone in Minho’s bed with a blanket draped over him, and he feels his heart drop a little before slipping off the edge of the mattress. Dragging his feet across the marble floor, he shivered, the cold hitting him like knifes.
He finds Minho seated on his couch by the window in the living room, eyes shut, as if he was sleeping, but Taemin knew he wasn’t.
“Minho,” He calls out, and the elders’ eyes flutter open, and it hurt Taemin. He looked so drained, so sick, so tired. “H-How are you?” He manages to stutter out after a few moments, and Minho gives him a sad smile.
“Could have been worse, I guess.” He shrugs, and Taemin shuffles over to Minho, taking a seat next to him. He stares at his feet, moving them about constantly.
“Tell me, Minho.” He bites his lip then, feeling the prick of Minho’s gaze on him. “Tell me everything about you, every little dirty secret, every glorious moment. I want to know you.” He turns to the older man, and his heart beats faster as he locks eyes with him.
“Why?” Minho asks, bringing his hand up to cup Taemin’s cheek, and the latter leans into the touch, Minho’s eyes searching his for answers.
“I don’t believe you did it.” Taemin says immediately, and Minho is taken aback.
“You remind me of-“ Taemin shushes him then, putting a finger to his lips.
“Don’t- Don’t say her name. My name. Say only my name, Minho.”
“Taemin.” Minho breathes after a minute, and Taemin smiles. “Taemin, Taemin, Taemin.” He wraps his arms around Taemin’s form, burying his head into the crook of Taemin’s neck as Taemin’s arms snake around his waist. “Don’t leave me, not now. Don’t leave, just stay with me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But just for now, stay.”
‘Forever’, Taemin thinks. ‘I’ll stay with you forever.’
Taemin calls to the police station, calling in sick for the next couple of days, before re-joining Minho in his bedroom, and they talk, about everything and anything, about their most embarrassing moments and their greatest ones. Taemin laughs especially hard when Minho tells Taemin about the one time he was jerking off in his room, and his aunt walks in, catching him in the act.
“Oh god.” Taemin says, rubbing the tears from the corner of his eyes. “Sweet mother of Jesus, that must be embarrassing.”
“You have absolutely no idea.” Minho says, scratching the nape of his neck before pausing. “You know, you’re the first one I’ve told this to.” Minho says, and Taemin’s smile stretches wider.
“I’m glad.” He says, scooting closer to the elder male.
It’s nearly three months when Taemin asks when Minho would return, and Kibum has no answer to that, only a shrug and a pat what Taemin presumed was supposed to be comforting.
Minho goes out to the gym in the mornings while Taemin is out at work, and goes to the library every afternoon. Taemin visits Minho every night, the elder man cooking dinner for the two of them and they’d watch soap opera re-runs, Taemin only occasionally returning to his own apartment to sleep, essentially moved into Minho’s home.
Taeyeon’s never been mentioned after Minho visited her grave a month after her gruesome death, but Taemin notices the white lilies Minho puts on the grand piano he’d bought for Taeyeon to play. His heart aches when Minho’s eyes see Taeyeon in him, but he doesn’t say anything.
When Minho asks about the department, Taemin tells him that it’s in a state of panic now that the killings have escalated, yet less gruesome. “Murders are still murders,” Minho mumbles. “Innocent lives are lost because of a sick man, of course they would be.”
Taemin catches resentment and anger seething beneath that calm tone and he wishes that he could catch the man then, to give him to Minho, maybe let the man take his revenge on the murderer.
“We’ll catch him,” Taemin can only reassure Minho, lifting the can of half-empty beer to his lips, but he doesn’t know if they will ever find the man in the first place.
Taemin doesn’t notice that four more months pass by, and it’s nearing autumn when Minho first introduces Kwon Yuri, a girl he’d met at the local library, to Taemin.
Taemin’s a little stunned when he first sees the girl. She was pretty, cute, that was undeniable, she looked pretty nice too, he thought as he eyed her.
“Yuri, this is Taemin.” Minho grins, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees as the girl bowed slightly, though seated in the plush velvet chairs in Taemin’s favorite café. He feels slightly angry then, noticing the way Minho hadn’t used honorifics. He wonders how close they are, and he doesn’t notice his nails digging into his palm until he feels a sharp pang, turning his attention back to the two in front of him.
“Pleasure to meet you,” He smiles, lying through gritted teeth.
He meets Yuri more often than he’d liked, and it really wasn’t long before Minho started to bring Yuri back to his place, where they’d sit in his bedroom for hours, talking about god knows what.
Taemin feels neglected then, maybe a little rejected and hurt, and he wonders if Minho had truly gotten over Taeyeon, but he doubts so when he sees the same lilies on the cover of the dusty grand piano one Thursday afternoon. He wonders what Yuri was to Minho then, and what he meant to Minho, but he doesn’t ask.
Minho is called back for duty after a good eight month suspension, far too long for Taemin’s tastes. He’s relieved though, that Minho wouldn’t be seeing Yuri often now, and that Minho would be spending more time with him.
Doubts rise once again, however, when he sees Yuri kissing Minho’s cheek one day when he steps through Minho’s door with the set of keys Minho had made him quite a while back.
He slams the door shut then, and the two turn their attention to him, Yuri’s cheeks flushing a brilliant pink almost immediately before she grabs her union jack printed tote bag, bidding goodbye to the duo before dash out of the door.
He doesn’t see her for another week, and the murders rise again.
Minho’s due to return to the department in the coming month, and Taemin feels far too angry and far too suspicious. “Minho,” Taemin calls out, poking at his food one evening as the other looked up from his own meal, looking at Taemin expectantly. “What’s Yuri to you?” Taemin asks then, unable to restrain himself any further.
A long, pregnant silence followed, Minho staring disbelievingly at Taemin while the younger of the two chewed his chicken. “Taemin, Yuri’s just a friend.” He says, turning his attention back to his own plate.
“What am I to you then?” Taemin questions further, and Minho drops his utensils.
“What’s with all these questions, Taemin?” He chuckles, eyebrows furrowing together before standing up, the wooden chair dragging nosily on the floor as he pushed it back, picking up his plate. “You’ve been awfully needy these days, you know.” Minho sighs, and Taemin drops his fork, opting to follow Minho into his open-concept kitchen instead.
“I’m sorry then, but please, Minho, answer me.” He pleads then, giving Minho his infamous pout, tugging on the elder’s tee, and Minho puts his plate down before turning to him.
“You’re my best friend.” Minho smiles, putting his arm around Taemin’s shoulders, tickling the younger boy, but is taken aback when Taemin doesn’t even flinch. “Tae?” He asks, when he sees the man frown.
“Nothing.” Taemin waves Minho off. “I’ll be going back to my apartment tonight, Minho. You’d better get enough rest this week, I tell you. Going back to work next week will be taxing.” Minho tries to grab onto his arm, but Taemin is faster, already out of the door before Minho could respond to his ‘goodnight’.
Minho invites him over to his place for a mini-celebration that weekend, to returning to work, and Taemin agrees almost immediately, and he knocks on Minho’s door one hour early, heart beating wildly against his rib cage at the promise of the evening - maybe an apology, maybe a confession, maybe a kiss, maybe something deeper, something more, maybe, maybe.
His smile turns upside down, however, when he sees Yuri seated on Minho’s couch, smiling bowing slightly when he enters, and he wants to walk out then, but Minho’s already pushing him towards the living room, elated that he arrived early.
“Didn’t expect you guys to arrive so early,” Minho calls out from the kitchen in a singsong voice, obviously delighted, before walking towards them with a jacket on. “And I’m out of beer, so I’m just going to head down to get a couple of things, and I’ll be back in a few, alright?” He asks, face apologetic, and both Taemin and Yuri wave Minho off.
Minho panics when he hears sobs from inside his apartment, and he unlocks the door quickly, only to find a messed up home, broken windows, glass shards littering his floor. His belongings are strewn about, some broken, some merely fallen. Those things don’t matter very much though, when he sees red, red everywhere. Blood stained his furniture, floor, walls and items, and he drops the groceries that he’d been carrying.
“Oh god.” He says, knees buckling and eyes wide with fear, before he screams for Taemin and Yuri, both nowhere to be found, and he grips his hair, knuckles white, before he notices a blood trail leading to his bedroom. He gulps then, following it.
Yuri was found lying on his bed, dismembered completely. Head, limbs, eyes, ears, organs, everything. He screams then, one filled with agony as he runs to her side, hand hovering over his mouth as he whispers ‘why’ as if it was a mantra. Sobs lift to his ear, and he remembers Taemin, before he calls out for his friend, praying, praying with all his heart that Taemin was alive, alive and with him.
He follows the sounds until he arrives at his cupboard, opening it to see a terrified Taemin crouched down, hugging his knees, bruised, scratched and wounded, but not lethal.
“Oh Tae,” He drops to his knees, hugging the younger boy. “Oh Tae, I’m here, I’m here.” Minho says, patting the male’s back in attempt to soothe him, even if he was just as troubled and frightened as Taemin was, maybe more so.
“H-He was here,” Taemin barely manages to choke out as Minho helps him out from the closet, his knees weak from fear. “He was here and Yuri answered the door a-and.” He doesn’t continue then, only breaking down in more tears, and Minho grips Taemin’s shoulders, eyebrows furrowed together as he stared into Taemin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes.
“Who?” Minho asks, “Who was here?” He shakes Taemin a little, and Taemin bends forward to place his lips near Minho’s ears, knees shaking.
“I was here, hyung.” Taemin says, and Minho could almost hear the smirk in his voice, but all his thoughts are lost when he feels a knife plunge into his chest, before it’s removed, entering again soon after, and the movement repeats until he’s lying on his bedroom floor, in a pool of his own blood, and he can barely muster any strength, but he asks why, voice barely audible as Taemin throws the knife into a corner, affectionately rubbing Minho’s cheeks with his thumb, kissing his nose, eyes, and lips, smearing the blood all across his face.
“You’re mine, Minho.” Taemin kisses him then, not noticing that Minho’s chest had stopped moving.
It’s not his alarm that wakes him up the next morning, or Minho’s usual wake up call, but Kibum’s screams and shakes. Taemin sits up slowly then, rubbing the crusts from his eyes as he blinks, only to be greeted by Kibum’s worried face.
“Kibum? What happened?” Taemin asks, and his senior starts to apologize again and again. “Hyung.” Taemin says again, grabbing the officer’s attention. “What happened?” He asks again.
“Minho and a girl, identified as Kwon Yuri, was found murdered,” He choked. “In his apartment. No traces.” Kibum says, and Taemin feels tears sting his eyes.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs,” Kibum calls out, and Taemin hums in response as he grabs his wallet and phone, rummaging in his drawers for a suitable jacket, before he notices a simple, plain box, chucked beneath all the clothes.
He picks it up, opening the lid a little, before smiling. He remembers how Minho looked absolutely stunning with red all over his body, and he makes a mental note to himself to keep the photos stashed somewhere safe. Turning back to the organ, his index finger prods the heart a little. “You are mine, Minho. Now and always.”
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Late late late! I'm sorry! ><;; I meant to post a fic on Monday, but I got a little worried, wondering if I could even finish the chaptered fic in the first place, so I'm going to hold onto it for a while more, until I finish at least 5 chapters or so.
But yes, I hope that you enjoyed this one! ;~; My sister gave me the prompt for this fic awhile back, so uh. Yes. lD;;a I really hope that you guys enjoyed it, and till next time!
Love,
Allena
Rating: NC-17 [For gore, semi-graphic description]
Pairing: 2min
Word Count: 5,641
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in here.
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He always loved the color red.
He was ten when he first saw the true beauty of the color, shining, glistening, gleaming as it oozed out of his finger ever so slowly. Lifting his thick thumb closer to his eyes, he watched the blood collect at the tip, slowly trickling down as he pressed at the base of the finger with his free hand. It was beautiful, how the color painted his skin red, how his skin glowed a magnificent red after.
He simply loved how the color stood out from the others, as if screaming ‘Look at me’. He loved how it contrasted with many others, how it matched so perfectly with some. He loved red.
He started to prick his finger more often, using arts and craft or sports as an excuse to hurt himself, but before long, he had grown bored of the red in him.
For the years that followed, he collected samples of red liquid from various animals. Dead animals, rats, birds, dogs, cats, anything he could get his hands on. He stole his mother’s knives eventually, using them to dismember the different body parts. If his guilty conscience ever tried to reason with him, he’d simply argue that it was for scientific research, and that nothing was better than hands-on practice. And that was that.
Taemin sighed as he watched people move in and out of the dance floor, watched wasted people stumble here and there, watched scantily dressed people search around with those dark, dark eyes of theirs. Key and a very drunk Onew had left a couple of minutes ago, leaving the twenty five year old forensics expert alone in the club they visited every Friday. It had become a tradition for them, he supposed, to shake the stress away and maybe dance a little. But it was boring without them, he decided. Downing the last of his beer, he grabbed his coat from the bar top and left.
Arriving home well past midnight, Taemin found it odd that boxes had been placed outside the door of the empty apartment next to his own, a well-built man trying to lift it all inside. Nobody in their right mind would be moving in at this hour, he thought. He stared for a bit before the man finally noticed him, giving him a smile and walking in his direction.
“Hello, you must be my new neighbor.” He said, using his free hand to wipe off the sweat that had collected on his forehead, the other outstretched. Taemin eyed him cautiously. The man was tall, no doubt about that. Tall, dark, and really quite handsome, his face perfectly framed with dark brown hair that curled slightly by his ears, large doe eyes staring expectantly at him. The man quite obviously made frequent trips to the gym, no doubt about that. “Ah. I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Choi Minho, just moved in next door a couple of minutes ago.” He tilted his head to the mess behind.
“I can see that.” Taemin replied curtly, lips tugging upwards. “I’m Lee Taemin. It’s nice to meet you.” He shook Minho’s hand firmly. “If you need help for anything, just give me a holler. The heater can be a bitch sometimes.” He joked, and Minho chuckled. He liked the sound of it.
“I’ll be sure to do just that.”
Taemin smiled.
The next morning, it wasn’t his alarm that woke him up, but the insistent rapping on the door. Grumbling, Taemin involuntarily slipped out of bed, dragging his soles across the wooden floor as he scratched his ass, yelling “I’m coming, Jesus Christ.”
Opening the door, he met the bemused gaze of Minho, obviously amused with the way Taemin looked.
“Why the fuck are you making so much noise at nine in the morning, Choi-sshi?” He grumbled, combing his fingers through his bedhead.
“You were right, the heater’s a bitch.”
That was how Taemin had spent his Saturday and Sunday, helping Minho sort of through his mess of an apartment, helping him fix the heating and a couple of problems here and there. He’d gotten to know Minho better during the two days, that he would be working down at the police station that Taemin worked at starting Monday, in the exact same department, how he was transferred from the Incheon branch to the main one here in Seoul, that he was two years Taemin’s senior, how he already did have a girlfriend (much to Taemin’s annoyance) and how he thought that Taemin was cute, which in fact, did please the young forensics expert, no matter how many times people had told him that.
And so Taemin had taken a liking to Minho, especially after he’d taken him out to dinner at the hotpot restaurant near their place. Shutting his door behind him, Taemin smiled to himself as he heard Minho’s retreating footsteps.
Taemin felt an odd sense of accomplishment when Kibum paired Minho with Taemin for the time being, instructing him to show Minho the ropes, before he’d noticed Taemin’s oddly genuine smile. Key raised an eyebrow.
“He might not be gay, you know.” The head of department whispered into Taemin’s ear before leaving, but not before mischievously jabbing his elbow into Taemin’s waist, giving him a knowing smile. Taemin stuck his leg out in response, effectively tripping the older male and earning himself a few disapproving tuts from the elder of the two.
Taemin knew for a fact that Minho was certainly not gay. He’d met Minho’s girlfriend once, while she was waiting outside the office for him after work. She was pretty, no doubt about that. A small, pointed nose, high cheekbones, milky white skin, big eyes, and silky raven hair that fell to the nape of her neck. He’d learnt later on that he name was Lee Taeyeon, and that she was working as a dance teacher in a school nearby. Nice enough, he thought as he shook her hand. Minho later commented that they were similar in more ways than one, and Taemin laughed.
It wasn’t long before they had to work on a case together, Taemin thought, when Key called a couple of people into his office for a brief. But it was weird that Key seemed to be a little more shaken than usual. He’d always maintained his calm while working on a case, no matter how gruesome it was, no matter how puzzling it was. Taemin crossed his arms as Key paced about, all eyes on him, waiting for an explanation.
“I think you guys should see it for yourself.” The man said instead, offering no other information.
Taemin had worked on quite a couple of murder cases, each of which was puzzling in their own way, but this one, he supposed, wasn’t quite like them. The victim was a woman aged thirty, pretty darn wealthy, and pretty darn pretty. She’d apparently gone to a nightclub that night, left alone, and the next thing her family knew, she was as dead as dead could be.
Her breast laid somewhere in the corner of the room, the body right in the center, below the chandelier where the head was hung on a rope, droplets of red dripping onto the puddle below. Her eyes were gorged, dangling on her ears like earrings, her dismembered fingers (pretty long, Taemin noted) were stuck in its place. Her detached feet placed near the door, heels still strapped to her ankles.
Snapping pictures of different parts and the blood splatters on the wall, Taemin scrunched his nose up. The killer had engraved words below her left and remaining breast, “1. Hello.”
Minho kept quiet throughout the time when they were in the crime scene, as if pondering something, but Taemin paid no mind to it.
The killer was meticulous, as if he’d practiced and rehearsed this many times before, like preparing for a show. He’d left no hair, no blood, no fingerprints, no saliva, nothing but the victim’s own blood. It was as if he or she had never stepped into the room.
The time they’d spent on the case had dragged on, and as time passed, the higher ups had decided to cut the number of people on the team. The longer it took, the less people they had, and finally, they’d filed it as a cold case. They simply had no lead.
Minho had left the team before Taemin did, and when they finally stopped the investigations, he’d brought Taemin out for a drink. Taemin was thankful, in that sense. Minho sat quietly as he watched Taemin shake the shallow cup, staring at the way the ice hit the sides of it. He’d always felt down if he couldn’t help to solve a case, so he enjoyed the company very much. Slightly drunk, Taemin held onto Minho’s shoulder as the older male kept a firm grip on his waist, helping him open the door to his apartment. He’d set the slightly shorter boy down onto the bed, tiptoeing backwards as the said boy shut his eyes. Taemin thanked him, though it was slightly more than a whisper. Minho smiled and kissed him on his forehead.
Taemin liked the way it felt.
And time passed by again uneventfully, for the red head, at least. He’d helped in more cases, watched Minho and Taeyeon act lovey-dovey, met up with parents, gone out with Minho once or twice every week, went out to the usual bar every Friday with Key and Onew, watch Minho and cleaned his apartment.
Four months had passed since the case, and around five since Minho had moved in, and Taemin realized that he couldn’t think of Minho as just his neighbor or colleague, or even a friend for that matter. He wanted Minho, and Taeyeon really wasn’t helping.
She was very nice and hospitable, he admitted. Her laugh was really cute and so was the way she spoke, but he hated it when she held onto Minho’s arm, hated it when they hugged, hated it when they kissed. He hated it.
So he supposed that he was supposed to feel a little happy when he’d heard the two quarrel in Minho’s apartment (the walls were very thin), and he did feel even more happy when Taeyeon had left in a hurry, her sniffs echoing through the empty halls.
He didn’t, however, like how sad Minho looked after. He’d knocked on Minho’s door, frowning after the said boy opened the door.
“Are you okay?” Taemin asked, and Minho’s frown deepened. The older boy scratched the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear that.” He said instead, sighing a little.
“It’s okay. Just wanted to know if you’re okay.” Taemin smiled, though it was a strained one. “Well, if you need to talk, just give me a holler. You know where I’ll be anyway.” The red haired boy started to walk back to his own apartment.
Minho chuckled. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish Taeyeon was more like you.”
Taemin smiled.
Taemin found out a week later that Taeyeon was upset that Minho wasn’t spending as much time with her recently, which was a stupid reason to be upset about, he thought, because he knew how busy Minho was with work, and that he’d tried to spend as much time with her as possible, but Minho shrugged. She hadn’t been responding to her calls since the fight, apparently, and Minho was quite worried. He’d tried to go to her workplace, but she’d taken leave, apparently going out of the country for some thinking time.
Taemin thought that it was selfish of her to do so, but Minho said it would probably be good for the both of them. Taemin wasn’t complaining though. Since then, Minho had been spending more and more time with him. Maybe it was his resemblance to Taeyeon, or maybe he was just lonely, Taemin didn’t know, but he didn’t mind either. He was just happy that they were spending more time together, and that was all he cared about.
It was the end of October when the killer had returned, this time going after a body builder, aged twenty six. The man was reported to have been exercising at home with a couple of friends over playing his game consoles and drinking some beer, but they had left at around midnight, leaving him alone in his own home. He had been un-contactable for the following few days, until they’d decided to break his door down only to find rotting, dismembered parts.
Snapping away once again, Taemin stuck close to Minho as he took a look around the room, wrinkling his nose a little as the stench of rotting meat filled his senses.
This time, the killer had opted to hand the victim’s entire arm cut, one fist stuffed into the corpse’s mouth, the other arm placed upright on top of the television. As with the earlier one, he or she had gorged his eyes out, but his time, placed nothing in his sockets. His eyeballs were later found in the huge hole in his abdomen, his intestines removed and tied around his neck, guts all over his body. The murderer had stuffed the hole with candy too.
Written with blood on his chest, the words read ‘2. Happy Halloween.’
As with the earlier murder, there was absolutely no trace of the killer.
And so the department was puzzled, the team was puzzled. The two victims had absolutely no connection whatsoever, nor any similarities. Taemin frowned and grumbled a little as he looked at the blood samples again, his head throbbing. Minho ruffled his hair affectionately in response.
Trouble started when the media had gotten wind of it, and started dubbing the killer “Numbers” after the messages he’d left behind, and Taemin thought that the name was stupid, and Minho agreed.
The two had worked overtime together, trying to help out in any way, but it was to no avail. The killer was a professional, they’d bet. And a male, probably tall and strong, with experience in the police field, otherwise he’d have left a small trail for the police to follow.
Taeyeon came back during the period of the second murder, standing outside the gates of the station, shocking both Minho and Taemin as they walked out after a tiring day. Minho ran to her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand as Taemin stood still, watching the two talk and reconcile with a kiss. He had two cans of beer mixed with banana milk later that night.
The next murder took place three weeks from the second, this time going after a forty year old entrepreneur who again, had absolutely no similarities or relation to the previous two, but had again been murdered when he was alone, a message left for the police after.
His head, this time round, was removed from the body, split apart, brain dug out and mashed with what Minho presumed was a hammer. His lungs were removed, throat slit probably after he died, one of his toes stuffed down the windpipe. Eyes as usual had been gorged, nothing placed in the sockets.
On his left chest, burnt into his skin, the killer wrote;”3. Don’t smoke.”
The public was getting worried, and so was the department.
Things were uneventful from then. Minho had started to spend more time with Taeyeon, essentially less time with Taemin, except from the times when they were at work, or at lunch, otherwise, they never met at all. And that irked Taemin.
What irked Taemin even more, was that he found out only a couple of days after that Minho was engaged. He cried that night, downing his sorrows in beer and pudding, and a little ramen with honey and chili.
The fourth murder, however, was one that brought grief to Minho, and was perhaps the most gruesome of them all.
Taeyeon had been found in her own apartment about two weeks after their engagement, limbs torn apart and strewn all over the place, head placed on the dining table, as if displayed for all to see. Body cut into perfect halves, her insides spilling everywhere, some stuck to the walls, her eyes had been dug out, as usual, and tongue removed, nowhere to be found. Her ring finger had been sliced, ring bloodied, placed before her head, red letters on the table reading ‘LIAR’.
Minho was later forcefully removed from the scene, from the case, and taken back to the police station for investigations.
Watching Minho from behind the two-way mirror felt weird and incredibly wrong, Taemin thought as he watched the older man fidget in his chair, eyebrows furrowed together as his eyes darted around the room.
Feeling a hand rest on his shoulder, Taemin sighed, not taking his eyes off the man in custody.
“Kibum hyung, this isn’t right. Minho’s one of us. He loves Taeyeon.” He turned to face the head of department. “He just got engaged to her, for Christ sake. Why the fuck would he kill her?”
“Taemin, as much as I’d love to release him- and you know I do, for the love of god. I know him just as well as you do, but I can’t do anything about it. The higher-ups think that they have a lead, a suspect, I don’t know. All I do know, is that Minho is to be kept here until they’re done interrogating him.” Kibum pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have to follow the law.”
Turning towards Minho once more, Taemin stomped his foot, surprising the brunette a little. “Well then, the law is fucked. Minho is innocent.” He spat as he shoved past Kibum.
By the time the interrogation had ended, Minho was the police’s prime suspect. Slamming the mahogany door open, Taemin glared at Kibum who only looked up at him in mild shock. “He’s. Innocent.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Taemin. Quite frankly, he fits the bill perfectly. The killings start after he moves to town, he’s quite skilled in his area of work, he knows how the police works, he is extremely careful, he had a quarrel with his fiancé a few weeks prior to her death -bless her soul. That, and he had visited her that night, and that was the last time she was spotted alive.”
Taemin groaned, slamming his palms against the table that Kibum leaned across.
“You know him. He isn’t one to do this, hyung!”
“Honestly, Taemin, I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Kibum resigned, shutting his eyes. “Let me ask you a question.”
“I don’t have time for games, hyung.”
“How well do you know Minho, hm? Do you know what he does at night, his behavior, likes, dislikes, hobbies, passions?” Taemin remained silent. “That’s what I thought.” Kibum leaned back, his chair squeaking a little. “For the time being, we have to treat him like he’s a criminal, like a murderer. We can’t take risks, Taemin-ah.” He sighs.
“That’s not what you said before.”
The killings continued though, much to the department’s dismay, and they were much more frequent (perhaps once every two weeks or one), much more gruesome, much more vicious, and much more puzzling.
The higher ups, eventually, let Minho go, on the account that he was monitored, and that his badge would be taken away until further notice. Heaving a sigh of relief as he heard the door for the apartment next to his own unlock, Taemin let his body relax, closing it for a second or two before opting to visit Minho.
Upon hearing sobs and sniffs, Taemin froze, his hand positioned to knock. He wondered if Minho was crying beyond that door, he wondered if the man was hurting. Backing up a little, the floorboard squeaked rather loudly under his weight, and the sounds stopped, the door swinging open instead.
“Taemin.” Minho breathed, as the younger of the two gulped.
“Uhm. Hi.” He let his arm drop limply to his side, the other scratching the nape of his neck as he looked at the ground, silently cursing the old building. “Just wondering if you’re okay.”
Minho looked disheveled, to say the least, as he gave a small nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.” He said, looking at the ground. “I’m fine.” He repeats again, wrapping his arms around his form as if to provide himself some comfort, and Taemin pulls Minho into a hug.
“You don’t have to hide things from me. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to laugh, laugh. If you want to talk, go ahead. I’m here for you, Minho, I’m here.” He pats the elder’s back, water droplets wetting his shoulder, strong arms winding itself around his waist.
Taemin sleeps over in Minho’s apartment that night, humming soothing lullabies and stroking Minho’s back as he slept.
He wakes up the next morning, alone in Minho’s bed with a blanket draped over him, and he feels his heart drop a little before slipping off the edge of the mattress. Dragging his feet across the marble floor, he shivered, the cold hitting him like knifes.
He finds Minho seated on his couch by the window in the living room, eyes shut, as if he was sleeping, but Taemin knew he wasn’t.
“Minho,” He calls out, and the elders’ eyes flutter open, and it hurt Taemin. He looked so drained, so sick, so tired. “H-How are you?” He manages to stutter out after a few moments, and Minho gives him a sad smile.
“Could have been worse, I guess.” He shrugs, and Taemin shuffles over to Minho, taking a seat next to him. He stares at his feet, moving them about constantly.
“Tell me, Minho.” He bites his lip then, feeling the prick of Minho’s gaze on him. “Tell me everything about you, every little dirty secret, every glorious moment. I want to know you.” He turns to the older man, and his heart beats faster as he locks eyes with him.
“Why?” Minho asks, bringing his hand up to cup Taemin’s cheek, and the latter leans into the touch, Minho’s eyes searching his for answers.
“I don’t believe you did it.” Taemin says immediately, and Minho is taken aback.
“You remind me of-“ Taemin shushes him then, putting a finger to his lips.
“Don’t- Don’t say her name. My name. Say only my name, Minho.”
“Taemin.” Minho breathes after a minute, and Taemin smiles. “Taemin, Taemin, Taemin.” He wraps his arms around Taemin’s form, burying his head into the crook of Taemin’s neck as Taemin’s arms snake around his waist. “Don’t leave me, not now. Don’t leave, just stay with me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But just for now, stay.”
‘Forever’, Taemin thinks. ‘I’ll stay with you forever.’
Taemin calls to the police station, calling in sick for the next couple of days, before re-joining Minho in his bedroom, and they talk, about everything and anything, about their most embarrassing moments and their greatest ones. Taemin laughs especially hard when Minho tells Taemin about the one time he was jerking off in his room, and his aunt walks in, catching him in the act.
“Oh god.” Taemin says, rubbing the tears from the corner of his eyes. “Sweet mother of Jesus, that must be embarrassing.”
“You have absolutely no idea.” Minho says, scratching the nape of his neck before pausing. “You know, you’re the first one I’ve told this to.” Minho says, and Taemin’s smile stretches wider.
“I’m glad.” He says, scooting closer to the elder male.
It’s nearly three months when Taemin asks when Minho would return, and Kibum has no answer to that, only a shrug and a pat what Taemin presumed was supposed to be comforting.
Minho goes out to the gym in the mornings while Taemin is out at work, and goes to the library every afternoon. Taemin visits Minho every night, the elder man cooking dinner for the two of them and they’d watch soap opera re-runs, Taemin only occasionally returning to his own apartment to sleep, essentially moved into Minho’s home.
Taeyeon’s never been mentioned after Minho visited her grave a month after her gruesome death, but Taemin notices the white lilies Minho puts on the grand piano he’d bought for Taeyeon to play. His heart aches when Minho’s eyes see Taeyeon in him, but he doesn’t say anything.
When Minho asks about the department, Taemin tells him that it’s in a state of panic now that the killings have escalated, yet less gruesome. “Murders are still murders,” Minho mumbles. “Innocent lives are lost because of a sick man, of course they would be.”
Taemin catches resentment and anger seething beneath that calm tone and he wishes that he could catch the man then, to give him to Minho, maybe let the man take his revenge on the murderer.
“We’ll catch him,” Taemin can only reassure Minho, lifting the can of half-empty beer to his lips, but he doesn’t know if they will ever find the man in the first place.
Taemin doesn’t notice that four more months pass by, and it’s nearing autumn when Minho first introduces Kwon Yuri, a girl he’d met at the local library, to Taemin.
Taemin’s a little stunned when he first sees the girl. She was pretty, cute, that was undeniable, she looked pretty nice too, he thought as he eyed her.
“Yuri, this is Taemin.” Minho grins, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees as the girl bowed slightly, though seated in the plush velvet chairs in Taemin’s favorite café. He feels slightly angry then, noticing the way Minho hadn’t used honorifics. He wonders how close they are, and he doesn’t notice his nails digging into his palm until he feels a sharp pang, turning his attention back to the two in front of him.
“Pleasure to meet you,” He smiles, lying through gritted teeth.
He meets Yuri more often than he’d liked, and it really wasn’t long before Minho started to bring Yuri back to his place, where they’d sit in his bedroom for hours, talking about god knows what.
Taemin feels neglected then, maybe a little rejected and hurt, and he wonders if Minho had truly gotten over Taeyeon, but he doubts so when he sees the same lilies on the cover of the dusty grand piano one Thursday afternoon. He wonders what Yuri was to Minho then, and what he meant to Minho, but he doesn’t ask.
Minho is called back for duty after a good eight month suspension, far too long for Taemin’s tastes. He’s relieved though, that Minho wouldn’t be seeing Yuri often now, and that Minho would be spending more time with him.
Doubts rise once again, however, when he sees Yuri kissing Minho’s cheek one day when he steps through Minho’s door with the set of keys Minho had made him quite a while back.
He slams the door shut then, and the two turn their attention to him, Yuri’s cheeks flushing a brilliant pink almost immediately before she grabs her union jack printed tote bag, bidding goodbye to the duo before dash out of the door.
He doesn’t see her for another week, and the murders rise again.
Minho’s due to return to the department in the coming month, and Taemin feels far too angry and far too suspicious. “Minho,” Taemin calls out, poking at his food one evening as the other looked up from his own meal, looking at Taemin expectantly. “What’s Yuri to you?” Taemin asks then, unable to restrain himself any further.
A long, pregnant silence followed, Minho staring disbelievingly at Taemin while the younger of the two chewed his chicken. “Taemin, Yuri’s just a friend.” He says, turning his attention back to his own plate.
“What am I to you then?” Taemin questions further, and Minho drops his utensils.
“What’s with all these questions, Taemin?” He chuckles, eyebrows furrowing together before standing up, the wooden chair dragging nosily on the floor as he pushed it back, picking up his plate. “You’ve been awfully needy these days, you know.” Minho sighs, and Taemin drops his fork, opting to follow Minho into his open-concept kitchen instead.
“I’m sorry then, but please, Minho, answer me.” He pleads then, giving Minho his infamous pout, tugging on the elder’s tee, and Minho puts his plate down before turning to him.
“You’re my best friend.” Minho smiles, putting his arm around Taemin’s shoulders, tickling the younger boy, but is taken aback when Taemin doesn’t even flinch. “Tae?” He asks, when he sees the man frown.
“Nothing.” Taemin waves Minho off. “I’ll be going back to my apartment tonight, Minho. You’d better get enough rest this week, I tell you. Going back to work next week will be taxing.” Minho tries to grab onto his arm, but Taemin is faster, already out of the door before Minho could respond to his ‘goodnight’.
Minho invites him over to his place for a mini-celebration that weekend, to returning to work, and Taemin agrees almost immediately, and he knocks on Minho’s door one hour early, heart beating wildly against his rib cage at the promise of the evening - maybe an apology, maybe a confession, maybe a kiss, maybe something deeper, something more, maybe, maybe.
His smile turns upside down, however, when he sees Yuri seated on Minho’s couch, smiling bowing slightly when he enters, and he wants to walk out then, but Minho’s already pushing him towards the living room, elated that he arrived early.
“Didn’t expect you guys to arrive so early,” Minho calls out from the kitchen in a singsong voice, obviously delighted, before walking towards them with a jacket on. “And I’m out of beer, so I’m just going to head down to get a couple of things, and I’ll be back in a few, alright?” He asks, face apologetic, and both Taemin and Yuri wave Minho off.
Minho panics when he hears sobs from inside his apartment, and he unlocks the door quickly, only to find a messed up home, broken windows, glass shards littering his floor. His belongings are strewn about, some broken, some merely fallen. Those things don’t matter very much though, when he sees red, red everywhere. Blood stained his furniture, floor, walls and items, and he drops the groceries that he’d been carrying.
“Oh god.” He says, knees buckling and eyes wide with fear, before he screams for Taemin and Yuri, both nowhere to be found, and he grips his hair, knuckles white, before he notices a blood trail leading to his bedroom. He gulps then, following it.
Yuri was found lying on his bed, dismembered completely. Head, limbs, eyes, ears, organs, everything. He screams then, one filled with agony as he runs to her side, hand hovering over his mouth as he whispers ‘why’ as if it was a mantra. Sobs lift to his ear, and he remembers Taemin, before he calls out for his friend, praying, praying with all his heart that Taemin was alive, alive and with him.
He follows the sounds until he arrives at his cupboard, opening it to see a terrified Taemin crouched down, hugging his knees, bruised, scratched and wounded, but not lethal.
“Oh Tae,” He drops to his knees, hugging the younger boy. “Oh Tae, I’m here, I’m here.” Minho says, patting the male’s back in attempt to soothe him, even if he was just as troubled and frightened as Taemin was, maybe more so.
“H-He was here,” Taemin barely manages to choke out as Minho helps him out from the closet, his knees weak from fear. “He was here and Yuri answered the door a-and.” He doesn’t continue then, only breaking down in more tears, and Minho grips Taemin’s shoulders, eyebrows furrowed together as he stared into Taemin’s puffy, bloodshot eyes.
“Who?” Minho asks, “Who was here?” He shakes Taemin a little, and Taemin bends forward to place his lips near Minho’s ears, knees shaking.
“I was here, hyung.” Taemin says, and Minho could almost hear the smirk in his voice, but all his thoughts are lost when he feels a knife plunge into his chest, before it’s removed, entering again soon after, and the movement repeats until he’s lying on his bedroom floor, in a pool of his own blood, and he can barely muster any strength, but he asks why, voice barely audible as Taemin throws the knife into a corner, affectionately rubbing Minho’s cheeks with his thumb, kissing his nose, eyes, and lips, smearing the blood all across his face.
“You’re mine, Minho.” Taemin kisses him then, not noticing that Minho’s chest had stopped moving.
It’s not his alarm that wakes him up the next morning, or Minho’s usual wake up call, but Kibum’s screams and shakes. Taemin sits up slowly then, rubbing the crusts from his eyes as he blinks, only to be greeted by Kibum’s worried face.
“Kibum? What happened?” Taemin asks, and his senior starts to apologize again and again. “Hyung.” Taemin says again, grabbing the officer’s attention. “What happened?” He asks again.
“Minho and a girl, identified as Kwon Yuri, was found murdered,” He choked. “In his apartment. No traces.” Kibum says, and Taemin feels tears sting his eyes.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs,” Kibum calls out, and Taemin hums in response as he grabs his wallet and phone, rummaging in his drawers for a suitable jacket, before he notices a simple, plain box, chucked beneath all the clothes.
He picks it up, opening the lid a little, before smiling. He remembers how Minho looked absolutely stunning with red all over his body, and he makes a mental note to himself to keep the photos stashed somewhere safe. Turning back to the organ, his index finger prods the heart a little. “You are mine, Minho. Now and always.”
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Late late late! I'm sorry! ><;; I meant to post a fic on Monday, but I got a little worried, wondering if I could even finish the chaptered fic in the first place, so I'm going to hold onto it for a while more, until I finish at least 5 chapters or so.
But yes, I hope that you enjoyed this one! ;~; My sister gave me the prompt for this fic awhile back, so uh. Yes. lD;;a I really hope that you guys enjoyed it, and till next time!
Love,
Allena