After the Eleventh Hour (1/4) for yunsias
Title: After the Eleventh Hour
For: yunsias
Author: howtobeugly
Rating: R for ratchet (crude language and adult situations, gore(?))
Length: 4k (1/4)
Summary: The worst thing about fuckin with people as crooked as you is that they’re as crooked as you. All those damn angles. It’s easy to lose yourself.
OST: Usual Suspects [Inst.] - R.Ross feat. Nas
A/N: I changed your prompt a tiny bit. It made writing easier for me- I hope you don’t mind.
30,000 kowtows to angel!mods who survived my inability to meet a single deadline _-_
part ii| part iii| part iv
A shadow oozed out of the brick in front of him, staining the road raspberry with its slick. It rolled out like a silk of velvet, split for a moment to find its way around a large rock, and slid thickly into the mouth at its delta. The man lay heavily on his front, knees almost tucked beneath his stomach, and head tipped back to rest upon his own shoulder. His lids were heavy with pleasure as he luxuriated in the sweet. From above he appeared like a child fallen fast with sleep in a scene of confectionery.
The sky was still purple when a baker discovered the body in an alley.
-
The most frightening thing about going into shock is learning just how heavily the average human depends on reason. The brain is aware of its surroundings- nerve impulses continuing their rounds. The smell of wet metal lingering even after the hands have been soaped thoroughly, and the sink water runs clear. But the brain remains clouded with concern about the past. It is almost as if the choppy memory and then sudden recollection is how the brain tries to deduce meaning from a previous line of events. It carefully considers each remembered sound and not-opaque image that managed to survive the deluge of adrenaline, stopping sporadically in hopes of discovering a pattern. And then the heart slows. Something has happened.And then the half-second passes. What have I done?
“The fuck are you doing?” Someone above him spat. Hands wrapped around his shoulders and dragged him from his hiding place among the danji. He kicked out at the tall, blonde man and got a face full of fist in return. Sometimes he wishes it would have been a goddamned knife instead. Save him the trouble of half a decade of nightmares and cold-sweats. The goddamned guilt.
“What is your name?” The blonde asked from somewhere behind him. It was hard to breathe with a foot between his shoulders.
He turned his head and wondered if the world above looked this twisted to Sehun before he died. And then he was sobbing- and loudly.
-
They ended up in the kitchen.
Yifan could probably tell he was crazy from the very beginning.
“Touch my shit again and see what it’s like to live without hands, Kid.” The tall man began. He had held the roll of tissue out at first- proffering- but thought better of it and tore a piece off himself, twisting it into a strip and gently pushing it up the other’s nostril.
Maybe that’s why he let him stay.
The tiny plug of white grew red from it’s root. “Now, what is your name?”
___
“Please, Xiumin, I swear it wasn’t me!” Xiumin wishes that were true, but the man’s begging is winning him no arguments.
“Yifan said she might not wake up. You really did a number on her.”
“You know me- you know I’m not like that. Xiumin, Baby, please!” Yixing’s face contorts so strangely in fear. He only ever smiled when they were alone. If he smiled now, Xiumin might even believe him. “Please- let’s just leave. You don’t want to do this.”
“I used to walk her home from school everyday”. The other man’s panting grows softer as Xiumin steps slowly around the chair Yixing is duct taped into. “I had been here a while leeching off of Yifan, so I asked for a job. It was such a stupid gig- trail her all the way to school and back home everyday. Don’t let her see me. The same thing everyday. It got so boring, and Yifan was never around because of his own duties…we were friends before, y’know.”
Yixing stays silent as Xiumin removes his jacket and stuffs it into a plastic bag on the table against the back wall.
“I was afraid of this life in the beginning. I didn’t think I could hurt someone else- no matter the reason- but Yifan seemed to handle it just fine. I don’t know- I guess I wanted to see what it was like after all. Prove myself.” His sneakers and watch come off next. “Some guy tried to run off with one of Yifan’s girls. I just took off without thinking, really- thought it was my chance. I was supposed to pick up Amber, but the thief was more important. Surprisingly, I did catch up with them in the end.
Xiumin returns to his place in front of Yixing and squats, rests a hand on the other man’s thigh. “The idiots had taken the fuckin’ train down to Daegu. I’m guessing they had intentions to make for Japan the next morning, but I showed up. The man looked so scared when he realized what I was. He took one look at me and ditched the girl so quickly I didn’t even think to follow him. And do you know something, Yixing?” Xiumin’s confession is soft as he peers up into cautious eyes. “I felt so powerful watching him run. I didn’t even stop to think how strange it was that I had been the one to catch them.”
He hates remembering this part. “Yifan looked like a bloodied sock when I found him. Amber had fallen asleep on the metro and gotten home late. Damn near half the gang was out looking for her while I was on a fuckin’ field trip in Daegu. Yifan was punished because he was the one who had suggested me for the job. Nothing even happened to her, but it was the principle of the thing, you know? He wasn’t even mad when he saw me- can you believe that? He really thought it was his fault and that he deserved the ass whipping.
He told me not to worry about it- it’s just what happens to people who hurt the family. Eye for an eye… But it should have been my eye, right?”
“Xiumin,” Yixing breathes.
“Why would you do that?!” He can’t take this. He can’t take it. “Why did you do it?!” He hears his voice crack under the weight of those damned eyes and is on his feet in seconds. Yixing knows. He probably knew before they even started really fooling around that he was playing understudy for somebody Xiumin could never admit having feelings for. Even now with Xiumin looming over him, hands fisted in his collar, he is gracious.
“I promise you I didn’t do it, Xiumin. I would never try to hurt Yifan. I would never hurt you”. And it’s exactly what Xiumin expects to hear from a person trying to avoid what is practically assured death, but it’s the first time he’s wanted to detect sincerity. He wants to believe Yixing.
It’s been so long since he’s had to…do something like this. He’s been feeling so good lately. He’s asleep before sunrise most days.
Xiumin all but melts against Yixing, lets his head knock into the other’s with the force of his exasperation, and burrows his nose into his neck. Yixing’s shoulder jerks up in reaction and forces Xiumin’s mouth and nose against sensitive skin. There’s a long husky exhale in the following struggle as Yixing strains against his bindings for space between himself and the smaller man.
“I know. I know you” Xiumin relents, now smoothing his cheek against the other’s. He has pulled himself fully into Yixing’s lap, and the slim body beneath him is a carnal comfort. “Please, tell me what happened- I can help you,” He whispers against a dimple, “I can talk to-“
“Listen to me!” The room is suddenly so still, like air after fireworks. Yixing continues after a moment, speaking slowly to lessen the blow of his words. “She helped me sometimes, but I swear I’m not sure what’s going on this time. If Yifan ordered this then that means he knows what we were doing…That I’m a cop. Xiumin, you have to listen to me. I was watching the apartments this morning- there was no ambulance. Yifan may have already killed Amber.” Xiumin’s lips are still pressed to his face, so Yixing can feel how his lips curl away from his teeth. Yixing goes stiff in his seat, very much aware he still has not been cut out from the chair.
“I knew there was something about you. I can’t believe I’ve been fuckin’ a cop! You think you were going to convert me? Make me a nark?”
Yixing shakes his head so hard his hair falls into his eyes. “No! I mean- if I could I would take you away from all of this. I care about you, and I know you care about Amber, so please, you need to see if Amber is okay. Yifan might hurt her- he might already have!“
“You have no idea what you are talking about, Pig. I really messed up this time. Rule number one is ‘trust no one’.” It is insulting for Yixing to try and play him like this, especially now when Xiumin has given him so many chances to tell the truth. He pushes off to stand, and Yixing suddenly looks so far away…so small.
And Xiumin feels the fat of Yixing’s cheek jiggle hard when he lashes out, his nails leaving a series of red stripes. Feels Yixing’s yelp reverberate through the air when Xiumin repeats the action and tears a gash in his lip.
There is a pause in movement as Xiumin contemplates the ease with which Yixing’s skin breaks after a third drag of nails down the side of his face. The moment passes, however, and Xiumin unlatches. “You’re not like them- don’t do this- please!”
He looks surprised- shocked and confused and disbelieving of what has just happened.
“Don’t, Xiumin- don’t!” He’s breathing hard from pain and fear. Xiumin feels something wet and warm on his face. The rain on his fingertips is red somehow. He hears screaming and finds Yixing seated in a chair atop a sheet of plastic. He shrieks again, looking so terrified that Xiumin spins around to defend himself against the attacker.
His hands fly up, but there is no one behind him. What the hell? Something has happened. He looks over his shoulder at Yixing and finds the man wearing the most incredulous expression. Xiumin is embarrassed now. He faces forward again and tries to get his thoughts together when he finds the newspaper in his hand.
Of course- the clue must be here! His eyes skim through characters and the knife in his hand is sudden. He’s found it! He swings around, grinning wide and waving the blade triumphantly. Why does Yixing looks so afraid? Xiumin flinches, scrubbing at his face and trying to remember what he feels he’s forgotten.
He decides a simple test, bringing the knife up to see his reflection, and freezing at a rush of nausea when there is only the image of the wall behind him. “Yixing,” Xiumin calls weakly, and turns for help.
Yixing is there- and with a smear of strawberry across his cheek.
-
It’s Yifan’s office couch. He can tell because the plush cushions smell of leather and lavender. He almost lets himself fall back asleep, but he recognizes another scent that has his heart pounding in seconds.
“You’re fine” Yifan says. He’s seated in a chair a few feet away when Xiumin opens his eyes. His boss looks like shit. He’s in a suit- is it nighttime already?- and his eyes are puffy. Xiumin scrambles off of his makeshift bed, but can’t think of what to do when he stands. Yifan decides for the both of them in three long strides. The hug is so tight that Xiumin goes without air for several moments. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”. Yifan babbles. He’s wearing an expression Xiumin hasn’t seen on him in years: sadness.
“Yifan. Yifan- Amber. How is she?” Xiumin doesn’t want to put stress on the other, but he hasn’t heard any news since he first got the order for Yixing that morning. It feels like he’s been out for a fuckin’ week.
Yifan doesn’t answer for a long while. Xiumin fetches him some water from the pitcher on a side table and waits. He takes a glass for himself as well, the hug from earlier suddenly embarrassing. When was the last time he and Yifan had been so friendly? “She didn’t make it.”
The thing about getting bad news is it’s twice as bad when someone says it out loud. Reading a letter saying the girl you love like a sister hurts, but that paper can be torn up, burned, thrown away. The sad truth will remain in your head alone, and it’s easy to ignore something if you really want to. Hearing someone tell you the girl you love like a sister is gone is terrifying. He’s sure anyone could have heard. If he is stopped on the street and solicited to fill-out a survey, the first question could be: Are you okay? I heard Amber is dead.
Why did it feel like his second time hearing this?
“I-“
“I don’t really feel like talking about this at the moment. I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday.” Yesterday? He’s been out since yesterday night?
“Yifan, what happened? How long have I been out for? I can’t remember much after I took Yixing to the warehouse. Is he…?” His friend looks up at him, glass looking tiny between large hands. Xiumin hadn’t expected such a long pause and his heart tries to speed its beating again.
“Yixing is dead. Do you remember that? You told me before you passed out yesterday,” Yifan hesitates before continuing, “Thank you.” The phrase of gratitude causes an unexpected churn in Xiumin’s stomach, but he swallows and tries a smile. Instead he finds himself disclosing the details of yesterday night’s slip into other- the side of him cursed with bloodlust, and growing more comfortable when Yifan listens just like old times. Xiumin had nearly forgotten how therapeutic a confession could be.
There hadn’t been a need for one in a while, and even if he had suffered an episode- Yifan was now a person he couldn’t share certain things with anymore. But…just this once, just for tonight, Xiumin was going to allow himself to be selfish.
“I’m surprised you remembered to check yourself in the knife. You’re not as weak as you were before, huh?”. It amazes Xiumin how much asshole Yifan has managed to retain over the years. He swallows the food in his mouth and turns to glare at his boss who doesn’t even have the decency to affect embarrassment. “Sorry, you know how I am- and anyway you’re the one who hated making others bleed. I’m just surprised because I know you used to hate that shit. You’ve gotten stronger without me.” They’re on opposite sides of the fancy coffee table in Yifan’s office talking over two black bottles of Claret and a pile of takeout.
Xiumin slams his chopsticks on the expensive wood before him, the savory European wine inspiring some strange type of bravado within him. The French were indeed romantics. His mind suggests employing some good old reverse psychology, and he performs hoping it’ll inspire some more explicit and long-unspoken praise from Yifan. “I still hate it, but the other half of my mind. I’m learning there’s power there.” He settles in to his old spot on the sofa and stares at the ceiling. The cushions beside him shift as his boss joins him.
“I’m sorry.” Xiumin closes his eyes.
“For what?”
“For…making you a stranger.” Xiumin stops breathing, opens his eyes. Yifan picks back up. “Don’t get me wrong- I just didn’t want to let you keep hoping we would- you know. And our branch needed me. Yixing was good for you even though he ended up being a piece of shit.“
“I’m done talking about this”. Fuck reverse psychology, fuck the romantics, and fuck him if he cries in front of Yifan. But the lump in his throat is so unexpected. He is embarrassed that Yifan knew about his extra curricular activities with the man. That he had been messing around with a man at all. He really wants to leave, but Yifan will give him shit if he gets up now. How the fuck did he find out about them anyway? Did he know about Yixing’s real job? He sips from his glass in an attempt to wash away the growing sensation of deja vu.
“Calm the fuck down. I’m still here for you, damn, I was just putting it out there.” He’s speaking a bit too harshly and Xiumin is reminded his friend is a featherweight when it comes to alcohol. He must really be upset about Amber if he’s drinking. Fuck.Amber. He’s buzzed enough not to feel horrible about forgetting her, but the sudden softness in Yifan’s voice has him swaying up out of his seat, and heart dropping. “I know things aren’t like they used to be,-”
Xiumin scoffs, slides his shoes on and leaves before he does something stupid like try to drown his drunk boss. Yifan had become so determined in his ignoring Xiumin that this drunken extension of a laurel leaf was infuriating. He had learned how to comfort himself when shit got too real, but now he didn’t want to stamp out the spark of hope that the drunk man had ignited. He’s killed Yixing, yeah, but he’s been torturing himself for years now.
__
He stays in bed for most of the next day trying to ignore the feeling of disappointment in his gut, and he only lets himself remember after slipping down to the corner chicken place to order some haejangook. He takes up an entire booth by himself, wondering why owner-ahjumma still hasn’t changed her menu poster to read “soggy ass” before the name of each of her offered dishes.
The television is playing reruns of newscasts above the beverage fridge, and he’s sauntering over for a pineapple soda when the heat of frustration crawls up his neck and makes him want to claw at his head.
__
The second most frightening thing about going into shock is learning there is a cap on how much trauma you can experience before even the temporary comfort of the brain pressing pause is lost. There is no need to analyze past events, or squeeze reason out of memories of that decision to take in Tao- teach him how to dispose of the bodies you make while he’s under your care. The brain stops looking back on things because it’s conditioned into finding the same in the present.
No point in trying to formulate ways to minimize horror from happening again when you’ve become a person who lives it. Commits it. Looking over your shoulder isn’t even a security measure now. You just want to see whose hand is pulling the trigger.
His thinking is clear. He doesn’t remember calling Tao over for a chop-and-drop, so there’s probably a decaying pretty boy still strapped to his chair at the ‘warehouse’. He should handle this alone- this particular cadaver will need to be hidden from even his own people. There’s no point in anyone finding out Yixing was a cop. A crooked cop at that the son of a bitch.
He thinks of calling Yifan but finds his phone is missing. Good, that was a dumb idea. His things are probably still at the warehouse- with Yixing’s corpse. He’s got to figure something out in the case the authorities find whatever dump site he thinks up. No amount of money is going to convince anybody to take the fall for him this time. ‘Cop-killing’ is one of the few crimes people would commit murder to have the original crime erased from RAP sheets. Law enforcement were notorious for holding grudges.
___
A while ago when he was still waking before the sun, he’d watch nature stir. There was this one time he’d stood at the window, silver can in hand, following with his eyes the path of a black and white feathered thing from a field and into the air. The first in a flurry.
To the drunk man they appeared as a black haze, but he woke the next day hungover and shaken. He could think only of a flock of crows slicing through orange suffusing across the sky. Like blood splatter across the gold round of a badge. A murder of crows. A murder.
He thinks of this as he crosses through the city to the poorer neighborhoods where the apartment cum warehouse is located, but he finds a calm as the last rays of sun sink below the horizon. Things like him thrive in the dark.
___
It’s a bit of a walk from the metro to the apartment building, and the neighborhood looks like the type of place no one wants to be around after the street lights come on. He hits all the buttons on the intercom at the entrance and is buzzed in quickly. Yixing had told him about this place a few months back. The human used to bring victims here, but hadn’t killed in a while. Unfortunately, the guy had probably broken his fast because Yixing had missed his monthly check-in and was likely dead.
If his friend wasn’t probably laid out in an unmarked grave somewhere, he would gladly accept the jeers of ‘asshole’ and call poetic justice. Obsessive? Please- he was one of the only officers left that gave a damn about the Living. And now he could have a chance to put a whole fucking House out of commission. Well, more like a branch- but, still. He takes a knee behind his weapon and waits for another night in a row.
___
The room is bare of furniture but for a small table and chair at the far wall. He can tell someone has visited recently because the window is open, a poor attempt at airing out the stench of bleach he’s sure. His things are in order, and there is no sign of blood. Has Tao been here? He needs to ask and see if the body needs to be moved. Damn- this entire ordeal was giving him a headache. He should have just handled it and all of this extra dangerous shit could have been avoided. That slip into other had really taken a lot out of him. It seems like he isn’t as strong as he would like to believe.
He feels lightheaded upon entering the room and thinks it wouldn’t be hard for him to draw up the memory of Yixing’s blood, or what it tasted like mixed with his sweat. It’s not good for him to be here again so soon. Xiumin snatches up the bag of his belongings and makes for the door. He’s stopped to close the window when he sees it resting right inside a window pane of the building in front of his. The glint of streetlights on a slim barrel. He follows the length of it all the way up to where a face is examining him from behind a scope. “Shit.”
There’s no time for anything else before he feels fire flash through him to the tips of his fingers, and the world goes dark.
end
of
part
i