After the Eleventh Hour (2/4) for yunsias
part i| part iii| part iv
It’s probably just deserts that he finds himself tied to the same chair in which he’s tortured so many others before.
“Finally. If I’d known you would conk out for so long I would have just used one.” The man in front of him wears a smirk Xiumin would like to slice right off of his face. “Xiumin.” His eyes roll up at the sound of his name to meet the other’s. “You seem lucid enough…well, my name is Joonmyeon, and ah- I’m regretting using the UVI on you. Shit, you’re drooling. Here, let me-“ Joonmyeon wipes at Xiumin’s mouth with the corner of his own jacket, and Xiumin notes numbly that it’s matte like the one Yixing wears. Wore.
“Fuck, you really are human. I’ve got lots of pictures of you, but you look straight up Sucker in every one- what’s up with your hair. You goth?”
Xiumin swallows the deluge of saliva intent on pouring out of his mouth and wonders how the hell he’s going to get a hold of the blade he feels missing from his forearm and stab the pale bastard before him. No one touches his knives. He promises himself at least one full cup of this Joonmyeon’s blood and promptly passes out.
“I don’t have time for this.” Joonmyeon states plainly.
He settles on the tabletop and noses around in the other’s bag. The human doesn’t look like the type to sport such flashy jewelry. The watch was either stolen, or a gift. A human with a Sucker for a sugar daddy? It sounds exactly like the type of twisted shit Yixing would go and involve himself in.
Some people think they can save the world. “You’re really spoiled, you know that?” Joonmyeon gripes in the direction of his orange-haired prisoner.
___
The next time Xiumin wakes he is on his back. He keeps his eyes closed and his breathing relaxed. He’ll probably never regain feeling in his lower back, but his arms feel good and ready to bring pain once he’s free. “I know you’re awake.” What the. “Your heart is beating like you’re excited. Thinking about making a snack out of me?”
“Untie me so I can kill you,” Xiumin snaps. Joonmyeon is slumped over the bedside with his head on the duvet. They’re in a hotel room. He squints at the phone in his hand and groans.
“I can’t believe you were unconscious for so long. Before this is all over I’m going to need you to sign some forms- I swear I didn’t think those pellets would affect you so strongly. Maybe I grabbed a bad batch,” Joonmyeon yawns.
“The fuck are you talking about? Is that my phone?”
“Are you hungry? I’ve got Cheerios.” Joonmyeon turns around for his pack on the desk behind himself and starts tugging at zippers. Xiumin feels himself growing angrier by the second. This stranger needed to die and now.
“What are you? Untie me right now.” Joonmyeon swings around to face Xiumin, and in his hand are two packets of blood.
“I lied about the Cheerios,” Joonmyeon smiles cheekily. He tears the corner of a packet off with his teeth and takes a gulp from the envelope. “Do you want some? I know Claret is your favorite.” Xiumin can almost smell the copper on Joonmyeon’s breath. How did this idiot know he could drink blood? “Yixing told me.”
Xiumin’s own eyes whip up from the other man’s lips and straight into his. Is he a cop? He doesn’t look like someone the state government would authorize to hold a gun. Some weird ass vigilante? That might explain the ponytail. “What the fuck do you want from me?” Joonmyeon takes a last swig of his berry-colored thickquid and levels the lip of the other packet up to Xiumin’s mouth. How polite.
“You’re going to help me,” Xiumin scoffs here, and Joonmyeon sees reason to growl the rest of his sentence, “You are going to help me or I’ll turn you in right now.”
____
Yixing three years ago would never have allowed himself to get caught up with a person like Xiumin, Joonmyeon knew. In the end it was the timing. It always is with their kind.
Joonmyeon knew Yixing was different from him in ways beyond the obvious. That Yixing could see men with the same type of want that a certain clerk tried to hide when dealing with confiscated knives. Yixing never spoke with Joonmyeon about his sexuality, but he didn’t necessarily hide it either, so, Joonmyeon was able to infer a potential conflict of interest when examining Yixing’s submitted pictures of some of the House of Wu.
In the months leading up to Joonmyeon’s transfer (which stung like a fuckin’ demotion), the pictures of one man in particular had evolved from standard reference shots. Several of a Doe, Xiumin’s portraits seemed to have grown ever-flattering, like the subject was captured from the view of an admirer. Images with a focus on eyes or lips, Joonmyeon pulled from the card before each meeting with his superiors.
It was a little while before Joonmyeon realized Yixing had stopped covering the guy in reports altogether. Photos said Xiumin was there- Joonmyeon could spy his orange hair reflected in windows and on cars- but there was no such equivalent in the written reports. He could feel a huge pile of shit growing the more he looked, and when he calculated potential time for the crimes listed under Xiumin’s temporary file, he found the man couldn’t possibly spend more than a year and a half behind bars and for nothing above a misdemeanor.
Joonmyeon had wanted to drink himself dead. Yixing was a tiny berg of ice whose solid purity Joonmyeon had taken for granted, and now both of their careers were going to end up crushed beneath the giant mountain of baggage Yixing had been hiding beneath his calm exterior.
The partners were close in age and rank, but that didn’t stop Joonmyeon from looking after Yixing in ways he knew he shouldn’t have. If an incriminating pic of Xiumin had somehow survived Yixing’s vetting- he would pull it himself. And if a report’s details didn’t add completely up- he corrected the mistakes. It was like that old saying: one bad apple spoils the bunch.
But when those same files were found on his own computer, it was him alone being tossed out like garbage. Undercover operations punished him for his improperly organized case file with a citation and a long-term stint ‘practicing correct protocol’ in the tedious paperwork of the confiscated weapons unit. The head clerk there was called Kyungsoo, a wide-eyed man who forgot his own mousiness when handling the illegal arms.
Fighting the temporary transfer would only raise questions about the real reason the tech guy had managed to diagnose the cause of Joonmyeon’s computer lag as an overaccumulation of raw files.
Yixing wouldwant to bite an apple from the forbidden tree, and Joonmyeon wouldbe the one to bite the bullet.
___
“Hmmm. I don’t know why you’re threatening me when it’s so obvious you are acting alone. You sure you want to play this game, Officer?” Joonmyeon shrinks back just the tiniest bit from Xiumin’s face, as he adjusts the other into a sitting position. “You smell like a hasbeen…if you thinking fucking with me is going to win you points with your people you should know that it’s going to get you killed first.”
Joonmyeon exchanges his blank expression for one of amusement. “Yixing said you were a smartass,” His fist connects with Xiumin’s ear then, “But I’m getting more of a dumbass vibe from you.”
Xiumin pulls his head back up and smiles softly.
“I think I want to take my time with you. Start from the toes and slice my way up.” Joonmyeon retracts the offered bloodalcohol mix and sucks it down in two obnoxious gulps, a rivulet of red escaping through the corner of his lips and rolling down his jaw. He cleans it with a palm and cleans that with his tongue.
“You’re going to want to slice someone else up when you hear what I have to say.” He begins his speech by slapping a stretch of duct tape over Xiumin’s mouth. “If you help me now, you’d have a better chance of getting granted immunity. They’ll still need you to testify in court,” He makes eye contact with his hostage as he says this, “And you can get revenge for Amber.” Xiumin’s eyes are hard. He needs some convincing, but that’s to be expected.
“Yixing was undercover, but he didn’t ask your friend for help. He would never ask a civilian to endanger themselves like that- especially someone you cared about. She volunteered in the beginning and he declined, but then she brought him stuff that lead to arrests. Even I thought it was a bad idea, but it was all smalltime shit- could be chalked up to coincidence. Yeah, we shouldn’t have accepted it, but she was acting of her own will at all times.You need to know that before I even start.” Joonmyeon sighs and snatches the tape from Xiumin’s face.
“Fuck you.”
“Baby’s first words,” Joonmyeon jokes humorlessly, “I need you to listen- really listen. What I am going to tell you will help you, but it will also help the cause that Yixing died for, okay?”
“I already got my revenge, but do whatever you want. Talk, sing, dance- I’m going to kill you too regardless. I guess I can put you to sleep after hearing a fairytale.” Joonmyeon glares.
“You know anyone on the groundfloor of Chungcheong? Any bigmen who want in the House?”
“You know what? I’m going to answer your questions if it will help speed this crap along. Dead men can’t talk anyway, so- yeah- I do. If this is about that sad attempt to catch Jung slipping with Sexpot, I have to tell you that he wouldn’t toss a doughnut to a drowning pregnant woman and he would never give someone an opportunity to put him in debt even if it helped him.”
“Yixing thought the same. And yet? All the girls from his biggest office were gone. There was a literal layer of dust over the entire basement. Thirty women can’t just disappear from under Jung’s nose like that without help.”
“A big man might be able to do something like that.”
“Yeah, but like you said- Jung hates owing anyone anything. And besides, we have intel that says the brothel beneath the club had closed weeks before we were granted a warrant. What would a big man gain from holding all of that property for so long for nothing when they would be better off doing the same for a different branch head and winning favor?” Xiumin was quiet.
“Not anybody with plans to give them back,” Joonmyeon moves slowly around the room, picking up his stuff and packing it neatly away in his bag. “So- somebody with a use for them. Not a local rival- Jung is the biggest dog on that corner. So, somebody above or below with enough resources to hide, house, and work thirty girls. You know I’m talking about Yifan Wu, right? You have to. Jung probably knows it too.” Xiumin is still, but Joonmyeon can sense his heart beating nervously.
“He doesn’t need any extras-“
“He doesn’t. He doesn’t, but he took them anyway. He’s a member of the House, Xiumin, of course he would take them.”
“Yifan is no fool.”
“Ah, that is the thing. He isn’t. But he is ambitious, and his ambition won’t let anything or anyone get in the way of his schemes. I know you killed Yixing. Yifan called it in, right- told you some lie before ordering it? He must have found out Yixing was undercover. Whose to say he didn’t figure out that Amber was helping him? Yifan would probably have to call that in too.”
“I already know that Yixing killed Amber, so save it.”
“Are you an idiot? Why would an officer of the Law kill a civilian, let alone an informant?”
“He got scared Amber would come to her senses and tell Yifan about him.”
“Like I said, everything that girl did was of her own free will. She made up her mind to stay out of that life way before Yixing came along.”
“Yifan would not do something like that to his own sister. I don’t know what you think you’re going to gain from lying for Yixing- he’s already dead.”
“Both our undercover agent and insider die just as we figure out Yifan Wu has gotten into some heavy shit? Why are you still denying even the possibilitythat he killed his own sister to keep his movements quiet?”
“Why are you telling me all of this bull? I’m not going to help you or snitch on my family.”
Joonmyeon slings his pack over an arm. “You can help me, or I can make a call right now and have you picked up. I mean, I know the scene of what must have been several gruesome deaths,” Xiumin scowls at him. “Or you can help me and make sure Yifan dies behind bars.” The other man is silent. Joonmyeon exhales roughly through his nose. “I have your phone. I’m going to give you something to cut the tethers, and will be long gone by the time you get free. You can run and warn Yifan Wu that someone else knows he wants to make a move on another wannabe warlord, and I will go to the streets and ring the flipping alarm, as well as tell my friends where to find you and your little playhouse. Or…you can go snoop around for some evidence that will help us put Yifan Wu away, and in exchange- I’ll get you a deal with the police. Better yet- I’ll let you disappear.”
Joonmyeon pops out a tiny knife and stuffs it into Xiumin’s fist. “Call your phone when you’re ready to talk. Make the right decision, Xiumin, you could help us both get revenge.” He’s made it all the way to the other side of the room when he hits the ground facefirst. Xiumin tries to put the knife in his back, but Joonmyeon bucks him off. He dodges another of those damn light pellets and lunges at the cop with his little tool in hand. Joonmyeon raises his bag like a shield, and the short blade tears into its material before an explosion of white light.
Xiumin comes to back in the bedroom. He crawls out towards the door and finds Joonmyeon laid out like a drunkard. He’s gotten a good bit of light, the thin silver casings of at least four pellets stuck into the wall and ceiling. Xiumin huffs. He doesn’t have time for anything extra anyway. At least it looks like a death by natural causes.
He drags the body back to the bed and is rearranging it when he feels the slightest rise and fall in the other’s chest. Well, it will look natural as soon as Joonmyeon has a heart attack. Xiumin drops another light pellet onto his chest and watches the man on the bed writhe.
When it looks like the shocks have dissipated, he feels around the other’s pockets. There’s no way Joonmyeon had taken the metro here with an unconscious man in his arms- there’s a car nearby.
He’s making his way out the door when he sees some stray pellets. He leaves them be, accidental suicide would work just as fine.
___
Yifan is on the phone when he is admitted entry to the office. He looks pensive as he listens to the person on the other end of the line. Even troubled Yifan looks good. Xiumin feels embarrassed about his own appearance and uses the wait period to attempt to straighten himself out.
Yifan heads into a back room and Xiumin scrambles up to pat at the cushions where his clothes have deposited dust. He tries to fix his hair too, but there’s only so much one can do, and the point of this trip won’t be affected by appearance. The embarrassment grows stronger as the ridiculousness of his actions sinks in. He settles onto the sofa again and thinks up more ways to break the news to Yifan. His thoughts keep straying to Joonmyeon though. It wouldn’t hurt to just ask… Yes it would. How does one go about asking a question like that without it seeming like an accusation?
Xiumin falls heavily against the sofa back and lets himself slide until his torso is horizontal with the seat cushions, pulling his legs up to lay more comfortably. This shouldn’t be so hard. He and Yifan still cared about eachother. Hadn’t he been allowed to sleep on this very sofa not three days ago- his boss watching over him? They were still friends, and he could definitely ask. Maybe bring up the story and just see where Yifan takes it.
He rolls over onto his side and wonders at his own nervousness, the way even being near his old friend causes him to turn back into that kid Yifan found hiding in his yard all those years ago. Confirming completed tasks was probably the most frustrating part of the job, as he still had to answer to his boss’ face. Talking to Yifan was such a hassle. Even reporting that he had just handled another troublemaker into an early grave couldn’t keep himself from feeling less-than. Like he was being obnoxious somehow, or that he had forgotten something.
And then he catches it again- that scent from before. Xiumin pushes himself up slowly, sniffing at the air. A glass of Claret is on the table, but this scent doesn’t hint at something mixed with alcohol. He knows what it smells like. He stands suddenly and lifts the cushion he had been sitting on just as a door opens in the distance.
“What’d you do with the body?” Yifan huffs out as he reenters the room.
“What body?” Xiumin asks softly, eyebrows rising when he sees another tumbler of red in the other’s hand.
“The body of the vampire you killed.”
“I haven’t killed anything- what made you think that?” Yifan sips at his drink as he makes his way over to the sofa.
“Tao said your warehouse looks like the aftermath of a ‘interview’. Where is the body? I’ll send him to handle it- unless you already cut it up?” Yifan crosses one leg over the other as he sits.
“I didn’t call him. Why is he there again?” Yifan ignores him, leaning forward with a look of concern.
“Do you think you lost time again? You could have very well had a play session and just can’t remember. Think hard- we can’t have another body popping up so soon.” Xiumin sighs. Yifan slams his glass on a side table, and the blood swishes around its container like syrup.
His eyes are hard, and Xiumin is taken aback with this sudden display of anger. He can’t be drunk yet from such a small glass. Yifan breathes out of his mouth slowly, forcing himself calm. He leans back in his seat and rests his arms on the sofa back.
“How did you know Tao had cleaned after you?”
“What? The hell are you on about- that’s his job.”
“And now it’s a mess again?”
Xiumin scoffs, reaching up to rub at his own neck. Yifan latches onto his wrist before he can draw back.
“There was something else,” Yifan says softly, pulling the other from his seat and lowering his eyes to meet Xiumin’s, “Tao said there was a bag full of goodies there as well. Some pics of you- an UVI.” Yifan lets go of Xiumin right as he makes to snatch his hand back, and Xiumin stumbles over the coffee table, landing straight on his ass. Yifan continues, ignoring the scene and looking right into Xiumin’s eyes. “Man, what a lucky person. Nobody buys UVIs these days unless they want to get put away for possession of a weapon made almost exclusively for committing hate crimes.”
Yifan’s voice has taken on that false enthusiasm he uses when speaking to his advisors on the phone. “And of course there was that recent bust, and I can’t imagine someone risking one to confiscation so soon. So,” Yifan drawls, dipping his head shortly as he slips his hands into his pockets and steps over the low table between them, “That means in the couple days since offing Yixing you’ve started fucking with somebody simultaneously well-armed and stupid…or.” Yifan settles on the table with Xiumin scowling up at him from between his legs.
Yifan continues slowly, resting his elbows on his thighs as he lowers his face to Xiumin’s, “Or, you’re fucking with another crooked cop.” Xiumin’s heart stutters in his chest. Yifan knows Yixing was a cop? Did he- did he know about Amber too? This shit can’t be real. “So I was right. Do you think I’m stupid, Xiu? You haven’t been here in days, Yixing’s dead, and yet you smell like one of us. Doesn’t take a genius. What- do you have a type? He’s not dead? Bring the fucker here.”
Xiumin scrambles to stand and makes for the door. The venom in Yifan’s voice has him halting like he’s been shocked with another pellet of light. “I can’t keep letting you off the hook- not for something like this- especially after I let you keep the first one for so long.” Xiumin lets his heart race despite himself, and Yifan is smug. “I want to see him. Am I right in assuming it’s a ‘him’?” Xiumin despises the question in this moment.
He’s pissed and scared and unwilling to give Yifan another point right now. Xiumin forces himself steady and walks through the door at his normal pace.
___
Waiting for Joonmyeon to wake up is infuriating. He could call Tao to transport him to Yifan’s apartments, but he finds himself hesitant to dial the number. Yifan’s words keep running rounds in his mind, and he can’t tell if it’s fear, anger, or hurt that won’t let his heartbeat slow. Yifan had sounded so entertained- like he was talking to a goddamned coke fiend. Someone who do anything for a dollar. When did he figure out Yixing wasn’t one of them? And that blood beneath the cushion…
“Jesus, take a flippin’ breath- you’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood with that pounding.” Joonmyeon groans from where he lays limp on the bed.
“You’re awake!” Xiumin hops over to look Joonmyeon in the face, and finds the man smirking.
“Oh em gee, Xiu, are we besties now- you sound so excited.” Xiumin feels himself scowl and resists the urge knock the cop back out.
“Sit up. I’ve got questions that you’re going to answer.” Joonmyeon’s brows furrow at the sudden change of tone.
“Please, no more Bad Cop. I want Good Cop- lemme talk to Good Cop.” Xiumin bends down for a moment, reaching to the floor for the plastic cup of water he’d prepared in case his hostage would wake with dry throat. Light pellets weren’t a joke- he knew that now.
When Joonmyeon shoots up off the bed, sputtering and swiping at his nose where the majority of the liquid had ended up, Xiumin is surprised with his movement. He isn’t used to hostages moving so freely under his care. And he remembers exactly why the bondage is so very necessary when he finds himself stomach-down where Joonmyeon had been lying seconds earlier.
“I’m kind of disappointed,” Joonmyeon huffs, still snorting water from his nose, “Yixing’s reports made it seem like you were some kind of genius at holding people against their will. Or are you just having a bad day?” Xiumin curses his mistake if only because he’s given Joonmyeon yet another opportunity to make that smug ass smile. It’s like his face only has two settings: angelic Boy Scout, and cartoon villain.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Xiumin’s scream is muffled with duvet cover. He’s one hundred ten percent sure that this time the pounding of his heart is anger-fueled. Joonmyeon leans down to an ear, pressing Xiumin’s wrists further into the space between his own shoulderblades and speaks through a grin.
“Give me my pack back first.”
___
If a week ago someone would have predicted that Xiumin would become the hostage of his own hostage more than once and in the span of less than three days- they would have been right. Xiumin would still have broken all their fingers though, an “In case it’s you” the only warning before he started popping things out of place.
Xiumin follows Joonmyeon’s hands as they wind the tethers from earlier around his ankles. The skin seems like it’d break like a peach’s if he were to poke it, but that thought is crushed under another pillar of Xiumin’s dignity as Joonmyeon rises, dusting his hands dramatically and examining his handiwork. Xiumin’s scowl deepens. He should have just dialed the damn number.
Joonmyeon smiles down at Xiumin as he undoes his pants, and the other sneers at the expression, choosing to ignore the slow reveal of Joonmyeon’s boxers. “Like what you see?” The man’s grin only grows wider, and he disappears through a doorway, the telltale ‘plunk’ of piss meeting toilet water sounding a moment later. Xiumin stares glibely up at stains on the ceiling, completely baffled at Yixing’s choice in friends. They didn’t seem like the type that would enjoy one another’s company- Yixing such a calm soul and Joonmyeon such a simple asshole.
“You’re cute.” Joonmyeon states over the sound of urine exiting his body through his genitals. A ‘toilet-talker’ Xiumin thinks. He had judged incorrectly- Joonmyeon was exactly the type of people Yixing would surround himself with.
“What does that even mean?” Xiumin says to himself, surprised when Joonmyeon plops cross-legged on the carpet beside him and responds.
“It means exactly what it sounds like it means. I didn’t get it before, but Yixing was right. I wouldn’t have used that word- ‘feisty’ maybe- but cute works too.” Xiumin sideeyes Joonmyeon with all the judgement he has accrued since the beginning of these exasperating circumstances.
“I don’t understand how you’re so fucking chipper when you know this will end with a bullet between your eyes.” Xiumin comments plainly. “Or are you just crazy, and that’s why your police friends won’t let you sit with them?” Joonmyeon stares wordlessly at him, and Xiumin watches his eyes harden. He’s got that look again- that “I wish you would” glare, and his voice matches the expression when he speaks again.
“If you were going to kill me, you wouldn’t have been bedside hoping I would wake up. You sounded so relieved- hell, I half expected to open my eyes and find you kneeling in a circle of prayer candles” Xiumin scoffs.
“I see no reason to have another cop-killing under my belt. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you off without having a little fun first. Joonmyeon’s mouth tips up into a half-smile, and he repositions Xiumin’s body to sit facing him with his back against the foot of the bed.
“Did you call someone?” Xiumin doesn’t answer. “I didn’t think so,” Joonmyeon challenges from where he’s moved to the closet, “You were waiting for me to wake up, but we’re still in this trashy ass hotel room and I don’t have a knife in my face. That says you want to talk to me without your people around.” He’s got an iron in his hand when next he stands before Xiumin. “Which means,” He stoops to look Xiumin dead in the eye, “that you have reason enough to doubt your boss. You believe me now, huh? You don’t seem like the type to trust strangers, so you must have seen something. I know you don’t give a shit about helping the police. The girl then.”
Xiumin’s face grows grim. “Don’t try to read me, Joonmyeon.” The man smiles suddenly.
“You absolutely saw something!” He exclaims with wide eyes. His enthusiasm returns almost immediately, and he straightens out. “This means you are more open to the idea of helping me, right? To celebrate, I’m going to listen to your questions. I will likely answer them. And then- if you know what’s good for you-” Joonmyeon swings the hand holding the iron back and forth at his side, Xiumin glancing at it every time it disrupts the air near his face, “-You’ll rethink your loyalties, and we will arrive at a better place in our relationship. Maybe even strike a little deal? Now, can we converse like mature adults, or do you still need these ties to behave like a gentleman?”
___
The swelling on Joonmyeon’s face doesn’t really take much away from his natural good looks, Xiumin thinks to himself. He had enjoyed marking that skin in a way he hadn’t expected and must fight a growing warmth in his face when he remembers how his body had reacted each time blood rose up into welts on Joonmyeon’s chest and cheeks. Thin red stripes from the metal face of the iron’s edge like strawberry syrup on porcelain. He had felt hungry- but not in the usual way the sight of blood made him- not at all; but a hunger had been whetted, indeed. He shook the thoughts from his head, replaying his last conversation with Joonmyeon as he watches his lackey from the hotel window. The kid slams his trunk closed and is off. Joonmyeon had been a fucking fool for trusting him. Tao was too.
end
of
part
ii