The Soul Stealer Codes: Running Away
Author: Star_Sarang
Angst, Romance, Fantasy, AU, Dark, Violence
Rating: R/NC-17
Length: 2/3
Warning(s): cursing (French and English), smut
Summary: Yoochun was never one to break rules, especially not the rules set for the Soul Stealer Society, but he did. He broke two of the most important rules: "don't fall in love with a soul" and "never reject or delay a mission." Yoochun was trying to save Junsu's soul, but he ended up causing more trouble and pain for the both of them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yoochun breathed in deeply. The crisp, cool air soothed his frayed nerves as Junsu's scent intoxicated Yoochun, burning his lungs with lust. The angel was a seductive little dolphin, that squeaky high pitched voice of Junsu's instantly reminding Yoochun of the sea where marine mammals dwell so peacefully.
Upon the Eiffel Tower, freshly painted, gleaming with a new golden sheen, gazing over the horizon of city lights, Yoochun and Junsu huddled together with a chocolate éclair shared between them.
"It's so pretty up here," Junsu murmured, smiling widely, eyes shining with amazement.
Yoochun couldn't bring himself to gaze at the city, only at the man next to him, so cute and young, with a smudge of chocolate grazing his bottom lip, like a small imperfection upon Junsu's skin that somehow miraculously made him even more flawless and beautiful. But at the same time, the little brown stain annoyed Yoochun that it hid even a centimeter of the dolphin's precious red lips.
Maybe it was the aphrodisiac in the chocolate or the fact that Yoochun hadn't been laid in a few years now, but the Stealer was slowly inching closer and closer to those sweet, taunting lips, soiled with the brown chocolate from the éclair, those kissable lips, pouting with such unnamable cuteness.
Junsu barely had time to think as Yoochun lifted the smaller man's chin and softly pressed his lips against his, their mouths moving in sync. They both knew what they wanted, what they craved. Junsu's senses tingled as Yoochun wrapped a hand around his waist, rubbing up and down his back. Whimpering, the red head flung his arms around Yoochun's neck as the latter became more aggressive, kissing with force and passion. The wet, slick muscle of Yoochun invaded Junsu's mouth, tasting the residue of chocolate on his tongue and the sweetness of pure innocence in Junsu's soul.
Yoochun's head spun as he and Junsu pulled away, oxygen deprived. Everything was a blur. Yoochun remembered pressing Junsu up against the sides of the elevator, kissing him senseless as they waited for the lift to reach ground level. Stumbling across the grass and cobblestones, area deserted of all tourists and residents of Paris, Yoochun and Junsu hurriedly raced to their cars.
"Race you to your place!" Junsu called out, slamming his car door shut, but leaving the window down.
"You're on!" Yoochun yelled, starting the engine.
Though Yoochun lived a good half hour away from the Eiffel Tower, the pair made it home in a mere ten minutes, the streets treating them well since there were few cars on the road so late at night and even fewer cops to halt their speeding.
Junsu pulled up into the driveway first, making Yoochun park his car by the curb. They both stumbled out of their cars and up the front yard, slamming into the front door, lips already eating each other again, bruised and bitten.
"I won," Junsu breathed.
"So," Yoochun panted heavily, fumbling for the keys in his pocket for the door. "Where's your trophy? You're not a true winner unless you have a medal to prove it."
Yoochun nearly dropped the keys, gasping in surprise as Junsu suddenly grasped his hard sex through his jeans.
"I haven't a trophy of gold, Monsieur," he murmured, trying to unbutton Yoochun's pants with clumsy fingers. The taller tried to steady his breathing and shakily slotted the key into the lock. "But I'm sure this will do to prove that I've won this race."
Yoochun finally turned the key and the door instantly flew open, Junsu landing on the floor and Yoochun on top of him, but neither perceived the pain as the door was kicked shut and shoes and socks flew off their feet, jackets soon accompanying them by the vase Yoochun kept to the left of the door.
An animalistic growl purred from Yoochun's throat as he clawed at Junsu's thin shirt. Junsu managed to wiggle out of his jeans and boxers as Yoochun tore off Junsu's shirt. Discarding Yoochun's undergarments, Junsu mumbled, "Should we really be doing this?"
"I'm half naked and you pick now to ask if we should really have sex together?" Yoochun growled, picking Junsu up and slamming him into the wall.
"I'm just stupid like that..." Junsu giggled, biting Yoochun's shoulder lightly.
"Do you always have sex with random strangers?" Yoochun asked sarcastically, nipping at Junsu's jaw.
"You're not a stranger," he murmured, placing a kiss on Yoochun's lips.
Something sparked in the taller male and he completely lost control of his actions. A delicious squeal echoed through the empty house as Yoochun thrust up, Junsu’s fingers clutching tightly to Yoochun’s shirt, legs wrapping around the larger man’s waist, leaving Junsu pressed against the wall in mid air, Yoochun supporting all his weight. Junsu’s back rubbed roughly against the smooth plaster of the wall, and somewhere in the frantic movement, Yoochun’s shirt was discarded.
Between harsh pants kisses were managed to be sloppily administered to Junsu’s neck and shoulders. Yoochun’s own shoulders were abused by Junsu’s sharp nails, leaving angry red crescents in his pale skin. The taste, the body, the smell, everything of the smaller male intoxicated Yoochun. He was like sugar but sweeter, crystallizing each individual taste bud to claim as its own; like coffee but more bitter, the emotions of soon-anticipated worry and fear of Heechul’s arrival nearing; like candy but stickier, unable to reel away from the boy’s charms, sucked in like a whirlpool; like fire but hotter, burning Yoochun’s soul, a sauna that is so warm it’s nearly uncomfortable yet it’s so warm that there is no escape from the paradise; and like a book, open with words ready to create a story for Yoochun to explore every dent and crevice, unveil every piece of information and discover each secret it held.
It was the small whimpers and whines that drove Yoochun insane. That high pitched voice moaning in such a sensual way, biting out every labored pant, crying out Yoochun’s name, and squealing every time the bundle of nerves in Junsu’s body was struck by Yoochun’s sex, pounding the smaller male into an unrealistic nirvana.
Fierce teeth nibbled at each other’s lips, challenging the quivering, plump edges of one another’s mouths to dare to try to dominate the other. Junsu had given up within a minute. The desperation emitting from Yoochun surpassed the will Junsu had to try to stop the animalistic Yoochun. It almost scared him how needy Yoochun was, ravaging Junsu thoroughly, tasting every inch of porcelain skin, licking up every drop of passion that sweat down his throat, drinking in the sounds of Junsu’s French vulgarities-“Oh mon Dieu!” “Merde!” “Baise! Baise!” “Mon Dieu, Yoochun!”
Squirming in ecstasy, Junsu’s mind was a puddle of nothing. “Yoochunnie,” Junsu cried, burying his face in Yoochun’s neck, unable to take the pleasure and releasing his seed onto Yoochun’s stomach and on the floor.
Yoochun growled as he rode out his orgasm, tongue sweeping across the thick vein in Junsu’s slender throat.
“So good,” Yoochun growled, sliding out of Junsu’s body.
Junsu crumpled into Yoochun’s arms and the latter carried his love upstairs to his bedroom, kissing him breathless the entire time.
”Je t’aime,” Yoochun said constantly. “Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime, mon amour!”
“Oui!” Junsu said, annoyed of the same phrase. “J’ai sais! J’ai sais! Je t’aime aussi, Yoochun-ah.”
Yoochun giggled and pressed Junsu into the soft bed, light a feather, soft as a cloud, intoxicating as poison, more addicting than chocolate, and sweeter than death. For Yoochun, that death would be the sweetest victory of his guilty heart, when Heechul came to set the law upon his head, and leave his body on this earth dead. Dead he might be, but with his love, both their souls apart for good and yet their hearts would stretch a million miles to reach out and kiss the sweet essence of their beings.
Death is sweet and bitter at the same time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¯¯~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Junsu awoke to a cold bed, deprived of a warm Yoochun. Sitting up slightly, he found the Korean bent over a small bag, dressed in jeans but no shirt. Junsu found the rest of their clothes on the bed, waiting to be put on.
He pulled a shirt-Yoochun's shirt-over his head and sat at the edge of the bed. "Chunnie," he said softly.
"Oh! Junsu-ah, you're awake. Come help me pack," he said quickly, a slight undertone of worry hidden within his voice.
Junsu frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Yoochun stood up and cradled Junsu's small face in his hands. "You said you'd go anywhere with me, right?" he said.
Junsu took Yoochun's hands into his. "Of course," he answered, confused.
"Then come with me to America, please," he murmured, pressing Junsu against the bed.
"A-America? What about Junho?" he asked, heart racing.
Yoochun trailed kisses on Junsu's neck. "Please," he pleaded. "I... I can't tell you why, but I have to get you out of here today."
Junsu pushed Yoochun off of him for a moment. "What... Are you talking about?"
Yoochun sighed heavily, moving to let Junsu sit on his lap. "Do you know... The Soul Stealers?"
"Soul Stealers... My childhood friend Hyukjae is a Soul Stealer," Junsu answered, eyebrows furrowed.
"Oui, I work with Hyukjae. I... Heechul assigned me to steal a soul earlier this week... Your soul."
Junsu bit his lip and Yoochun held his breath. The younger nodded for Yoochun to continue his story.
"When... When I saw your profile-mon Dieu! I fell in love with you." Yoochun's fingers traced the contours of Junsu's face and hair. "Those silky locks of red, like the color of wine, once drunk in fully, intoxicated with the sweet alcohol, addicted to the substance. Your doe eyes, shining with youth and promise, a future, so innocent and bright, blinding me, lighting my dark path; I am forever lost within the depths of passion, layers of underlying love and lust, hiding hidden secrets, innocent yet perverted at the same time. Smooth, porcelain, your skin is like sweet honey milk, pale as the liquid and just as delicious as the honey, a paradise of promise and pleasure. Junsu... I knew nothing but your name and appearance, but mon Dieu, je t'aime toujours! I was unable to steal your soul. You were too pure, with too much potential. There's no one like you, Junsu..."
There was a heavy silence, Junsu trying to comprehend the mash of Korean and French together so early in the morning. Yoochun held Junsu to his chest, his thumping heart pounding loudly in his breast, awaiting an answer. But when no answer came, the bigger one spoke again.
"So will you come with me?"
"D'accord! Let's go quickly!" he exclaimed, throwing the sheets off his body and snatching up his pants.
"Oui! Aller vite!" Yoochun agreed, speedily helping Junsu into his jeans, but was pushed away as the dolphin threw a shirt at him, giggling, and ordered, "Put a shirt on!"
Their things were packed in one bag within five minutes. Yoochun had called Yoohwan to make sure that they would have lodging and money to buy necessities and clothing once they landed in America. If they landed in America, a voice from the back of Yoochun's mind hissed. He shook his head to rid himself of the negativity.
Suddenly, Yoochun’s phone began to ring. Without glancing at the ID, he picked up. “Yoboseyo?”
“Yoochun! I’m in Paris already. Earlier than expected, right?” Heechul said cheerily.
Yoochun’s heart stopped momentarily, nearly choking on air.
“I was going to surprise you and come by earlier, but decided not to.” Yoochun sighed in relief. “But-“ The Stealer’s heart stopped again. “I’m coming by anyways! I’ll be there… Now. Get that soul ready for pickup!”
And then the line went dead. Yoochun barely had time to move before he heard the doorbell ring. Knowing Heechul, he probably came alone, so Junsu might have a chance to get out of France with his soul intact.
“Chunnie?” Junsu said softly, touching his elbow. “What’s wrong?”
Yoochun gripped Junsu’s shoulders tightly. “You need to leave France without me,” he said in a low tone, shoving the plane tickets into his hands. “You need to leave now.”
Junsu shook with fear and dread. “But-But, Yoochun!”
“Please!” he begged, pushing the bags into Junsu’s hands. “Leave now and never return. I’ll find a way to America, a way to you. I promise!”
Yoochun stuck out his pinky and Junsu hooked his little finger with Yoochun’s. Sealing their vow with a kiss, the insistent ringing of the doorbell killing the mood, Junsu and Yoochun raced downstairs.
“Now listen,” Yoochun hissed. “Heechul’s probably by himself, so as soon as I distract him, you run for it, got it? Hide by the vase.”
Junsu nodded silently, slightly afraid. He pulled on his shoes as Yoochun opened the door to find Heechul poking the doorbell button repeatedly. “I’m here,” Yoochun said flatly.
Heechul just glared at him. “You’re a bit late in coming to the door, dear Chun,” he spat. “I’ve been standing here for three minutes already.”
Yoochun glanced down at Junsu before stepping aside to the left to shield Junsu from Heechul’s vision. All was going smoothly as Heechul scrutinized the objects in the house rather than facing Yoochun, giving Junsu an easy escape without being seen. A short kiss was pressed to the hidden pairs’ lips before Junsu slipped out the door quietly and Yoochun shut the door with a sound thud.
His heart lightened, knowing that Junsu would make it safely to America. But at the same time, he dreaded what would happen to himself. He’d failed a mission. When a Soul Stealer fails a soul stealing, they’re excommunicated. Being excommunicated meant more than just being banished from the Soul Steal Society; it meant death-slow, painful, torturous, and brutal death as punishment. The Soul Stealer Society was strict, and having Heechul as head of the stealing department made it worse. He was always on top of things, finding the newest pieces of information before anyone, discovering the deepest secrets of each Soul Stealer without even having to consult with the Stealer themselves.
“You seem tense,” Heechul murmured, picking up one of the jade trinkets.
“I’m fine… Just-“
“Do you have the soul?” Heechul was never one to beat around the bush.
“Well…” Yoochun scratched the back of his head as Heechul put down the small object and began to search upstairs for Yoochun’s music book. Yoochun followed behind him nervously. A part of him wanted to beat Heechul unconscious and then sprint to the airport and hop on the fastest flight to America, but a part of him was frightened by Heechul’s authority. The musician was never one to disrespect his seniors.
Yoochun flinched visibly when Heechul pulled out one of the drawers and sifted through all of the leaflets. In his hands, the head of the Soul Stealing Department of Korea held the frail, yellow pages of Yoochun’s music book, thumbing through it carefully.
“It’s not here,” Heechul hissed after a few minutes, and then snapping the book shut.
Glaring fiercely at Yoochun, who instinctively backed up against the wall as Heechul advanced toward him with the thin book in hand, the pretty man growled through clenched teeth, “Where. Is. The. Soul. Park Yoochun?”
Yoochun drew in a shaky breath and replied quickly, “Je ne sais pas.”
“Conneries!!” he screamed. Yoochun almost forgot that Heechul could also speak French.
“You really expect me to believe that you have no idea where this soul is?!” he screeched, slapping the book in Yoochun’s face.
“Oui. Je ne sais pas, monsieur.” Yoochun gulped nervously. He tended to speak in only one language when he was nervous, today’s language being French!
Heechul scoffed and paced in circles around the room, his palm to his forehead. “Conneries, fils de salope. Où est-ce que le garcon en ce moment?”
“Je ne-“
“Ah! Ta gueule! Je sais ce que vous direz! Baise toi! Ta gueule!” Heechul exhaled hotly.
Yoochun tried to breathe calmly, and then the doorbell rang. Who could be at his doorstep? Junsu should be in a taxi by now; he couldn’t have come back-shouldn’t have. Yoochun glanced at Heechul who just pointed downstairs and snapped, “Réponse de la porte en ce moment, salope!”
Nervous, Yoochun flung his book on his bed, still messed up from last night’s activity with Junsu, and flew downstairs with Heechul trailing behind him to answer the door, hoping that Junsu wouldn’t be there. The annoying bell rang one last time before Yoochun reached the foyer and yanked the door open, nearly ripping the handle off.
Yoochun was relieved to see who was at the door. “Yunho hyung!!” Yoochun squealed. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m here with Heechul,” he answered.
“I told you to stay in the car,” Heechul said coldly.
“I thought that breaking that command was more important,” he replied.
“And why is that?” he asked.
Yoochun’s heart caught in his throat as Yunho pulled a small man, hands tied together and cloth tied over his mouth, into the house.
Placing the man on the sofa, his soft brown eyes gazing into Yoochun’s, Heechul smirked. “And you said that you didn’t know where the boy was.”
Yoochun broke down, knees buckling, sending him crashing to the ground. He crawled forward brokenly, stroking the back of his hand against the smooth cheek of the captive.
“Junsu…” he cried.
Heechul chuckled. “That’s right. Kim Junsu. Your target. The soul you were to steal. Your failed mission!”
Heechul smacked Yoochun in the back of the head and then laced his fingers through the thick locks, yanking his head backwards to make Yoochun face him. “You know what this means, don’t you?” he growled.
Yoochun gulped. “Punishment…”
Heechul let go of his hair. “D’accord!” Yunho agreed with pretty much the only French word he knew.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Monsieur = mister *Je ne sais pas = I don’t know
*Oh mon Dieu! Merde! Baise! = Oh my God! Shit! Fuck! *Conneries = bullshit
*Je t’aime, mon amour = I love you, my love *fils de salope = son of a bitch
*J’ai sais! = I know *Où est-ce que le garcon en ce moment = Where is the boy now?
*aussi = also *Ta gueule! = Shut up!
*Oui = yes *Je sais ce que vous direz! Baise toi = I know what you say! Fuck you
*Toujours = always *Yoboseyo = Hello (over the phone) [Korean]
*D'accord! = of course! *Réponse de la porte en ce moment = Answer the door now
*Aller vite = go quickly
Angst, Romance, Fantasy, AU, Dark, Violence
Rating: R/NC-17
Length: 2/3
Warning(s): cursing (French and English), smut
Summary: Yoochun was never one to break rules, especially not the rules set for the Soul Stealer Society, but he did. He broke two of the most important rules: "don't fall in love with a soul" and "never reject or delay a mission." Yoochun was trying to save Junsu's soul, but he ended up causing more trouble and pain for the both of them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yoochun breathed in deeply. The crisp, cool air soothed his frayed nerves as Junsu's scent intoxicated Yoochun, burning his lungs with lust. The angel was a seductive little dolphin, that squeaky high pitched voice of Junsu's instantly reminding Yoochun of the sea where marine mammals dwell so peacefully.
Upon the Eiffel Tower, freshly painted, gleaming with a new golden sheen, gazing over the horizon of city lights, Yoochun and Junsu huddled together with a chocolate éclair shared between them.
"It's so pretty up here," Junsu murmured, smiling widely, eyes shining with amazement.
Yoochun couldn't bring himself to gaze at the city, only at the man next to him, so cute and young, with a smudge of chocolate grazing his bottom lip, like a small imperfection upon Junsu's skin that somehow miraculously made him even more flawless and beautiful. But at the same time, the little brown stain annoyed Yoochun that it hid even a centimeter of the dolphin's precious red lips.
Maybe it was the aphrodisiac in the chocolate or the fact that Yoochun hadn't been laid in a few years now, but the Stealer was slowly inching closer and closer to those sweet, taunting lips, soiled with the brown chocolate from the éclair, those kissable lips, pouting with such unnamable cuteness.
Junsu barely had time to think as Yoochun lifted the smaller man's chin and softly pressed his lips against his, their mouths moving in sync. They both knew what they wanted, what they craved. Junsu's senses tingled as Yoochun wrapped a hand around his waist, rubbing up and down his back. Whimpering, the red head flung his arms around Yoochun's neck as the latter became more aggressive, kissing with force and passion. The wet, slick muscle of Yoochun invaded Junsu's mouth, tasting the residue of chocolate on his tongue and the sweetness of pure innocence in Junsu's soul.
Yoochun's head spun as he and Junsu pulled away, oxygen deprived. Everything was a blur. Yoochun remembered pressing Junsu up against the sides of the elevator, kissing him senseless as they waited for the lift to reach ground level. Stumbling across the grass and cobblestones, area deserted of all tourists and residents of Paris, Yoochun and Junsu hurriedly raced to their cars.
"Race you to your place!" Junsu called out, slamming his car door shut, but leaving the window down.
"You're on!" Yoochun yelled, starting the engine.
Though Yoochun lived a good half hour away from the Eiffel Tower, the pair made it home in a mere ten minutes, the streets treating them well since there were few cars on the road so late at night and even fewer cops to halt their speeding.
Junsu pulled up into the driveway first, making Yoochun park his car by the curb. They both stumbled out of their cars and up the front yard, slamming into the front door, lips already eating each other again, bruised and bitten.
"I won," Junsu breathed.
"So," Yoochun panted heavily, fumbling for the keys in his pocket for the door. "Where's your trophy? You're not a true winner unless you have a medal to prove it."
Yoochun nearly dropped the keys, gasping in surprise as Junsu suddenly grasped his hard sex through his jeans.
"I haven't a trophy of gold, Monsieur," he murmured, trying to unbutton Yoochun's pants with clumsy fingers. The taller tried to steady his breathing and shakily slotted the key into the lock. "But I'm sure this will do to prove that I've won this race."
Yoochun finally turned the key and the door instantly flew open, Junsu landing on the floor and Yoochun on top of him, but neither perceived the pain as the door was kicked shut and shoes and socks flew off their feet, jackets soon accompanying them by the vase Yoochun kept to the left of the door.
An animalistic growl purred from Yoochun's throat as he clawed at Junsu's thin shirt. Junsu managed to wiggle out of his jeans and boxers as Yoochun tore off Junsu's shirt. Discarding Yoochun's undergarments, Junsu mumbled, "Should we really be doing this?"
"I'm half naked and you pick now to ask if we should really have sex together?" Yoochun growled, picking Junsu up and slamming him into the wall.
"I'm just stupid like that..." Junsu giggled, biting Yoochun's shoulder lightly.
"Do you always have sex with random strangers?" Yoochun asked sarcastically, nipping at Junsu's jaw.
"You're not a stranger," he murmured, placing a kiss on Yoochun's lips.
Something sparked in the taller male and he completely lost control of his actions. A delicious squeal echoed through the empty house as Yoochun thrust up, Junsu’s fingers clutching tightly to Yoochun’s shirt, legs wrapping around the larger man’s waist, leaving Junsu pressed against the wall in mid air, Yoochun supporting all his weight. Junsu’s back rubbed roughly against the smooth plaster of the wall, and somewhere in the frantic movement, Yoochun’s shirt was discarded.
Between harsh pants kisses were managed to be sloppily administered to Junsu’s neck and shoulders. Yoochun’s own shoulders were abused by Junsu’s sharp nails, leaving angry red crescents in his pale skin. The taste, the body, the smell, everything of the smaller male intoxicated Yoochun. He was like sugar but sweeter, crystallizing each individual taste bud to claim as its own; like coffee but more bitter, the emotions of soon-anticipated worry and fear of Heechul’s arrival nearing; like candy but stickier, unable to reel away from the boy’s charms, sucked in like a whirlpool; like fire but hotter, burning Yoochun’s soul, a sauna that is so warm it’s nearly uncomfortable yet it’s so warm that there is no escape from the paradise; and like a book, open with words ready to create a story for Yoochun to explore every dent and crevice, unveil every piece of information and discover each secret it held.
It was the small whimpers and whines that drove Yoochun insane. That high pitched voice moaning in such a sensual way, biting out every labored pant, crying out Yoochun’s name, and squealing every time the bundle of nerves in Junsu’s body was struck by Yoochun’s sex, pounding the smaller male into an unrealistic nirvana.
Fierce teeth nibbled at each other’s lips, challenging the quivering, plump edges of one another’s mouths to dare to try to dominate the other. Junsu had given up within a minute. The desperation emitting from Yoochun surpassed the will Junsu had to try to stop the animalistic Yoochun. It almost scared him how needy Yoochun was, ravaging Junsu thoroughly, tasting every inch of porcelain skin, licking up every drop of passion that sweat down his throat, drinking in the sounds of Junsu’s French vulgarities-“Oh mon Dieu!” “Merde!” “Baise! Baise!” “Mon Dieu, Yoochun!”
Squirming in ecstasy, Junsu’s mind was a puddle of nothing. “Yoochunnie,” Junsu cried, burying his face in Yoochun’s neck, unable to take the pleasure and releasing his seed onto Yoochun’s stomach and on the floor.
Yoochun growled as he rode out his orgasm, tongue sweeping across the thick vein in Junsu’s slender throat.
“So good,” Yoochun growled, sliding out of Junsu’s body.
Junsu crumpled into Yoochun’s arms and the latter carried his love upstairs to his bedroom, kissing him breathless the entire time.
”Je t’aime,” Yoochun said constantly. “Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime, mon amour!”
“Oui!” Junsu said, annoyed of the same phrase. “J’ai sais! J’ai sais! Je t’aime aussi, Yoochun-ah.”
Yoochun giggled and pressed Junsu into the soft bed, light a feather, soft as a cloud, intoxicating as poison, more addicting than chocolate, and sweeter than death. For Yoochun, that death would be the sweetest victory of his guilty heart, when Heechul came to set the law upon his head, and leave his body on this earth dead. Dead he might be, but with his love, both their souls apart for good and yet their hearts would stretch a million miles to reach out and kiss the sweet essence of their beings.
Death is sweet and bitter at the same time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~¯¯~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Junsu awoke to a cold bed, deprived of a warm Yoochun. Sitting up slightly, he found the Korean bent over a small bag, dressed in jeans but no shirt. Junsu found the rest of their clothes on the bed, waiting to be put on.
He pulled a shirt-Yoochun's shirt-over his head and sat at the edge of the bed. "Chunnie," he said softly.
"Oh! Junsu-ah, you're awake. Come help me pack," he said quickly, a slight undertone of worry hidden within his voice.
Junsu frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked.
Yoochun stood up and cradled Junsu's small face in his hands. "You said you'd go anywhere with me, right?" he said.
Junsu took Yoochun's hands into his. "Of course," he answered, confused.
"Then come with me to America, please," he murmured, pressing Junsu against the bed.
"A-America? What about Junho?" he asked, heart racing.
Yoochun trailed kisses on Junsu's neck. "Please," he pleaded. "I... I can't tell you why, but I have to get you out of here today."
Junsu pushed Yoochun off of him for a moment. "What... Are you talking about?"
Yoochun sighed heavily, moving to let Junsu sit on his lap. "Do you know... The Soul Stealers?"
"Soul Stealers... My childhood friend Hyukjae is a Soul Stealer," Junsu answered, eyebrows furrowed.
"Oui, I work with Hyukjae. I... Heechul assigned me to steal a soul earlier this week... Your soul."
Junsu bit his lip and Yoochun held his breath. The younger nodded for Yoochun to continue his story.
"When... When I saw your profile-mon Dieu! I fell in love with you." Yoochun's fingers traced the contours of Junsu's face and hair. "Those silky locks of red, like the color of wine, once drunk in fully, intoxicated with the sweet alcohol, addicted to the substance. Your doe eyes, shining with youth and promise, a future, so innocent and bright, blinding me, lighting my dark path; I am forever lost within the depths of passion, layers of underlying love and lust, hiding hidden secrets, innocent yet perverted at the same time. Smooth, porcelain, your skin is like sweet honey milk, pale as the liquid and just as delicious as the honey, a paradise of promise and pleasure. Junsu... I knew nothing but your name and appearance, but mon Dieu, je t'aime toujours! I was unable to steal your soul. You were too pure, with too much potential. There's no one like you, Junsu..."
There was a heavy silence, Junsu trying to comprehend the mash of Korean and French together so early in the morning. Yoochun held Junsu to his chest, his thumping heart pounding loudly in his breast, awaiting an answer. But when no answer came, the bigger one spoke again.
"So will you come with me?"
"D'accord! Let's go quickly!" he exclaimed, throwing the sheets off his body and snatching up his pants.
"Oui! Aller vite!" Yoochun agreed, speedily helping Junsu into his jeans, but was pushed away as the dolphin threw a shirt at him, giggling, and ordered, "Put a shirt on!"
Their things were packed in one bag within five minutes. Yoochun had called Yoohwan to make sure that they would have lodging and money to buy necessities and clothing once they landed in America. If they landed in America, a voice from the back of Yoochun's mind hissed. He shook his head to rid himself of the negativity.
Suddenly, Yoochun’s phone began to ring. Without glancing at the ID, he picked up. “Yoboseyo?”
“Yoochun! I’m in Paris already. Earlier than expected, right?” Heechul said cheerily.
Yoochun’s heart stopped momentarily, nearly choking on air.
“I was going to surprise you and come by earlier, but decided not to.” Yoochun sighed in relief. “But-“ The Stealer’s heart stopped again. “I’m coming by anyways! I’ll be there… Now. Get that soul ready for pickup!”
And then the line went dead. Yoochun barely had time to move before he heard the doorbell ring. Knowing Heechul, he probably came alone, so Junsu might have a chance to get out of France with his soul intact.
“Chunnie?” Junsu said softly, touching his elbow. “What’s wrong?”
Yoochun gripped Junsu’s shoulders tightly. “You need to leave France without me,” he said in a low tone, shoving the plane tickets into his hands. “You need to leave now.”
Junsu shook with fear and dread. “But-But, Yoochun!”
“Please!” he begged, pushing the bags into Junsu’s hands. “Leave now and never return. I’ll find a way to America, a way to you. I promise!”
Yoochun stuck out his pinky and Junsu hooked his little finger with Yoochun’s. Sealing their vow with a kiss, the insistent ringing of the doorbell killing the mood, Junsu and Yoochun raced downstairs.
“Now listen,” Yoochun hissed. “Heechul’s probably by himself, so as soon as I distract him, you run for it, got it? Hide by the vase.”
Junsu nodded silently, slightly afraid. He pulled on his shoes as Yoochun opened the door to find Heechul poking the doorbell button repeatedly. “I’m here,” Yoochun said flatly.
Heechul just glared at him. “You’re a bit late in coming to the door, dear Chun,” he spat. “I’ve been standing here for three minutes already.”
Yoochun glanced down at Junsu before stepping aside to the left to shield Junsu from Heechul’s vision. All was going smoothly as Heechul scrutinized the objects in the house rather than facing Yoochun, giving Junsu an easy escape without being seen. A short kiss was pressed to the hidden pairs’ lips before Junsu slipped out the door quietly and Yoochun shut the door with a sound thud.
His heart lightened, knowing that Junsu would make it safely to America. But at the same time, he dreaded what would happen to himself. He’d failed a mission. When a Soul Stealer fails a soul stealing, they’re excommunicated. Being excommunicated meant more than just being banished from the Soul Steal Society; it meant death-slow, painful, torturous, and brutal death as punishment. The Soul Stealer Society was strict, and having Heechul as head of the stealing department made it worse. He was always on top of things, finding the newest pieces of information before anyone, discovering the deepest secrets of each Soul Stealer without even having to consult with the Stealer themselves.
“You seem tense,” Heechul murmured, picking up one of the jade trinkets.
“I’m fine… Just-“
“Do you have the soul?” Heechul was never one to beat around the bush.
“Well…” Yoochun scratched the back of his head as Heechul put down the small object and began to search upstairs for Yoochun’s music book. Yoochun followed behind him nervously. A part of him wanted to beat Heechul unconscious and then sprint to the airport and hop on the fastest flight to America, but a part of him was frightened by Heechul’s authority. The musician was never one to disrespect his seniors.
Yoochun flinched visibly when Heechul pulled out one of the drawers and sifted through all of the leaflets. In his hands, the head of the Soul Stealing Department of Korea held the frail, yellow pages of Yoochun’s music book, thumbing through it carefully.
“It’s not here,” Heechul hissed after a few minutes, and then snapping the book shut.
Glaring fiercely at Yoochun, who instinctively backed up against the wall as Heechul advanced toward him with the thin book in hand, the pretty man growled through clenched teeth, “Where. Is. The. Soul. Park Yoochun?”
Yoochun drew in a shaky breath and replied quickly, “Je ne sais pas.”
“Conneries!!” he screamed. Yoochun almost forgot that Heechul could also speak French.
“You really expect me to believe that you have no idea where this soul is?!” he screeched, slapping the book in Yoochun’s face.
“Oui. Je ne sais pas, monsieur.” Yoochun gulped nervously. He tended to speak in only one language when he was nervous, today’s language being French!
Heechul scoffed and paced in circles around the room, his palm to his forehead. “Conneries, fils de salope. Où est-ce que le garcon en ce moment?”
“Je ne-“
“Ah! Ta gueule! Je sais ce que vous direz! Baise toi! Ta gueule!” Heechul exhaled hotly.
Yoochun tried to breathe calmly, and then the doorbell rang. Who could be at his doorstep? Junsu should be in a taxi by now; he couldn’t have come back-shouldn’t have. Yoochun glanced at Heechul who just pointed downstairs and snapped, “Réponse de la porte en ce moment, salope!”
Nervous, Yoochun flung his book on his bed, still messed up from last night’s activity with Junsu, and flew downstairs with Heechul trailing behind him to answer the door, hoping that Junsu wouldn’t be there. The annoying bell rang one last time before Yoochun reached the foyer and yanked the door open, nearly ripping the handle off.
Yoochun was relieved to see who was at the door. “Yunho hyung!!” Yoochun squealed. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m here with Heechul,” he answered.
“I told you to stay in the car,” Heechul said coldly.
“I thought that breaking that command was more important,” he replied.
“And why is that?” he asked.
Yoochun’s heart caught in his throat as Yunho pulled a small man, hands tied together and cloth tied over his mouth, into the house.
Placing the man on the sofa, his soft brown eyes gazing into Yoochun’s, Heechul smirked. “And you said that you didn’t know where the boy was.”
Yoochun broke down, knees buckling, sending him crashing to the ground. He crawled forward brokenly, stroking the back of his hand against the smooth cheek of the captive.
“Junsu…” he cried.
Heechul chuckled. “That’s right. Kim Junsu. Your target. The soul you were to steal. Your failed mission!”
Heechul smacked Yoochun in the back of the head and then laced his fingers through the thick locks, yanking his head backwards to make Yoochun face him. “You know what this means, don’t you?” he growled.
Yoochun gulped. “Punishment…”
Heechul let go of his hair. “D’accord!” Yunho agreed with pretty much the only French word he knew.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Monsieur = mister *Je ne sais pas = I don’t know
*Oh mon Dieu! Merde! Baise! = Oh my God! Shit! Fuck! *Conneries = bullshit
*Je t’aime, mon amour = I love you, my love *fils de salope = son of a bitch
*J’ai sais! = I know *Où est-ce que le garcon en ce moment = Where is the boy now?
*aussi = also *Ta gueule! = Shut up!
*Oui = yes *Je sais ce que vous direz! Baise toi = I know what you say! Fuck you
*Toujours = always *Yoboseyo = Hello (over the phone) [Korean]
*D'accord! = of course! *Réponse de la porte en ce moment = Answer the door now
*Aller vite = go quickly