fic-DBSK-Hand in Hand-Chapter 4
Title: Hand in Hand: Chapter 4
Author: virdant
Length: 1,301 words; multi-part (4/~9)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Angst, AU, Sci-fi
Pairing: MinSu (JaeChun)
Summary: Junsu was sweeping. He picked up the shards of figurines with his fingers, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges as he padded around in slippers to protect his feet. After they had been wrapped up-each figurine in a separate swaddle-he swept up the delicate shards of each individual figurine and placed them in each swaddle. Now, he holds the small broom that that bastard had found long ago in one hand and bounces a metal mug-a pair to the one he threw at that bastard-in the other.
Warning: Disturbing Content.
Notes: Junsu is actually a very fun narrator. I've never really nticed until now. And lookie! Things are starting to make sense! (maybe)
[Chapter 1] / [Chapter 2] / [Chapter 3]
Hand in Hand
Chapter 4
“I did what you wanted,” Junsu snaps. He tosses a metal mug up, catching it on his palm. It resounds with a painful sting that Junsu relishes. “Are you happy now?”
The guard has nothing to say.
Junsu isn’t violent by nature, but he wants to throw the mug at this blank faced lackey. He’s very tempted. There are only two things holding him back. One is the thought of consequences, which never mattered before but matter now.
The other is the limp body that the guard just outside is carrying.
Hitting a helpless stranger is too much for him. He isn’t violent. He isn’t.
(If he’s violent, he wouldn’t have missed that bastard.)
Junsu was sweeping. He picked up the shards of figurines with his fingers, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges as he padded around in slippers to protect his feet. After they had been wrapped up-each figurine in a separate swaddle-he swept up the delicate shards of each individual figurine and placed them in each swaddle. Now, he holds the small broom that that bastard had found long ago in one hand and bounces a metal mug-a pair to the one he threw at that bastard-in the other.
“What do you want?” Junsu finally asks.
“Due to the departure of your former roommate, it has been decided that you are in need of a new companion to spend your days with.”
Junsu stares at the limp body. “He looks dead.”
For a second, he thinks the words aren’t his own. They aren’t right. The tone is off. It’s too high pitched. Something is wrong.
And then he realizes: this is exactly what he is supposed to sound like. This is what his voice sounds like.
This is who he is.
“Put him on the couch. And get out.”
Junsu watches as the guards move. They move perfectly synchronized, as if they receive and follow the same instructions without question, which they do, Junsu thinks. Just mindless drones.
They drop this newcomer on the couch unceremoniously and walk out. Perfectly obedient. The body lies with legs at odd angles and an arm trapped awkwardly under a head of hair longer than Junsu’s seen in perhaps a year.
Junsu carefully arranges limbs to lie straight. He remembers doing this before, only that time the limbs were longer and the face wasn’t twisted into a frown but rather an exhausted smile.
By the time Junsu’s done, he thinks that he’s arranged a corpse for a cremation. Hands resting at the sides. Body perfectly still. Waiting to be burned into ashes to be scattered to the winds.
He stares for a very long time. He thinks of many things, but in the end, he can’t remember any of them.
But he can remember eyes.
He thinks they’re brown.
*
The stranger wakes up two hours later.
“Hey,” Junsu says with a mouth suddenly dry. It sounds odd. Awkward. Uncertain.
The man pushes himself up and stares at Junsu for a long moment before he awkwardly mumbles a greeting.
Junsu doesn’t know how to ask the question he wants to ask. He doesn’t know how to talk to this man who stares around him in blank confusion.
It’s strange.
“Where am I?” the man asks.
Junsu thinks. Junsu thinks for a long while. He thinks about what this place is, all concrete and steel. He stares through the doorway into the kitchen and out the kitchen window, barred with an elaborate flower pattern, but barred nevertheless. Protected from the outside.
“You’re safe,” he finally manages. He tries for a smile, though he’s not certain how that works. Not certain how to talk to this stranger.
He stares for a long time, before he reaches to an air to touch what Junsu realizes is an implant.
“What?” the man chokes. “What did you say?”
Junsu blinks and stares for a while.
“My name’s Junsu,” he says instead of: you’re safe. “My name’s Junsu. What’s yours?”
“Kim Jaejoong,” he says. And then he shudders a single shudder and whispers. “My name is Kim Jaejoong.”
He laughs after that. With a hand over his mouth and head bowed down. He laughs and laughs and Junsu wonders what’s so funny.
But Junsu can’t think of anything funny enough to cause such laughter.
All he can think of are bundles of broken glass hidden in a cabinet above the stove.
*
Kim Jaejoong spends the day staring at his hands, not talking or even looking at Junsu. He looks lost, a little. As if he doesn’t know who he is.
That evening, Junsu turns on the news feeds, because that bastard still hasn’t cancelled his subscription. He listens to the feeds with Kim Jaejoong still sitting on the couch. At the end of reassurances that the implant situation is being dealt with, he turns off the feeds and instead turns on his sole form of communication with outside.
The connection is crackly and full of static. He almost expects to hear a familiar bland voice, but instead, a tired and almost weary voice says: “Yes?”
Kim Jaejoong sits up a little.
“I need a new mug,” Junsu says.
“Is your current one unsatisfactory?”
“I only have one. And I have a guest that you’ve very nicely left with me,” Junsu says nastily.
Kim Jaejoong winces.
The voice says, exhausted and weary, “A mug will be sent to you immediately.”
Junsu turns it off without bothering to say goodbye.
“That…” Kim Jaejoong begins hesitantly.
“Was a stupid city counsel guard,” Junsu finishes for him. Junsu has enough of guards. It was a guard who took that bastard away and a guard that brought this strange man into his haven.
“No,” Kim Jaejoong protests softly. He shakes his head. “That was Jung Yunho.” He touches his ear. “He helped me. To run.”
Kim Jaejoong knows the names of guards. Junsu laughs a little, because he remembers some names. Sometimes. “How do you know?” Junsu asks. Not challenging. Just skeptical.
“Because…” Jaejoong hesitates. “Because he sounded the same?” He’s uncertain. Confused.
“You don’t know anything,” Junsu scoffs. “How can you hear anything with that implant off?”
Jaejoong freezes, a hand reaching up to touch the small globe of wiring. He stares at Junsu, face freezing into blandness. Junsu thinks, inanely, that Jaejoong looks like that guard who brought him in.
“I can hear,” Jaejoong finally says. Carefully and slowly. “I always could.”
Then why did you get that implant?
“I just… I didn’t listen enough.”
Jaejoong looks rueful when he smiles, barely a twitch of the lip, at Junsu. “People who get run off the tracks are safety hazards,” he says. And Junsu thinks that in Jaejoong’s eyes are memories that have been long forgotten to everybody but Jaejoong.
(Like the broken figurines that only Junsu knows still exist).
*
Before Junsu sleeps, he returns to the couch where Kim Jaejoong sits. He stands in the doorway while Kim Jaejoong stares at his hands, at the walls, at everything.
Junsu almost feels sorry for Jaejoong.
He stares for a long time, before Kim Jaejoong focuses on him. “Do you have access to the feeds?” he asks.
Junsu nods and points to the worn feed in the center of the room.
Kim Jaejoong settles himself before it. He looks almost confused at it, as if he’s used to a voice whispering in his ear: do this now and do that now.
Junsu turns away.
After a while, he hears Jaejoong whispers to the feed: “Where is Park Yoohwan?”
But even though all Junsu can see are the grey walls before his eyes, he can still hear the soft catch of breath when the feed says that Park Yoohwan lives in the next city over.
TBC [Chapter 5]
So! See? Things are starting to gather together and make sense. Maybe. Bwah.
Things are starting to make sense. Especialy because thi this supposed to end in... 5-6 more chapters. (that tilde is my "approximately" sign because I'm being lazy and not outlining. :D). So things are starting to make sense to me. Which is a good sign.
Author: virdant
Length: 1,301 words; multi-part (4/~9)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Angst, AU, Sci-fi
Pairing: MinSu (JaeChun)
Summary: Junsu was sweeping. He picked up the shards of figurines with his fingers, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges as he padded around in slippers to protect his feet. After they had been wrapped up-each figurine in a separate swaddle-he swept up the delicate shards of each individual figurine and placed them in each swaddle. Now, he holds the small broom that that bastard had found long ago in one hand and bounces a metal mug-a pair to the one he threw at that bastard-in the other.
Warning: Disturbing Content.
Notes: Junsu is actually a very fun narrator. I've never really nticed until now. And lookie! Things are starting to make sense! (maybe)
[Chapter 1] / [Chapter 2] / [Chapter 3]
Hand in Hand
Chapter 4
“I did what you wanted,” Junsu snaps. He tosses a metal mug up, catching it on his palm. It resounds with a painful sting that Junsu relishes. “Are you happy now?”
The guard has nothing to say.
Junsu isn’t violent by nature, but he wants to throw the mug at this blank faced lackey. He’s very tempted. There are only two things holding him back. One is the thought of consequences, which never mattered before but matter now.
The other is the limp body that the guard just outside is carrying.
Hitting a helpless stranger is too much for him. He isn’t violent. He isn’t.
(If he’s violent, he wouldn’t have missed that bastard.)
Junsu was sweeping. He picked up the shards of figurines with his fingers, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges as he padded around in slippers to protect his feet. After they had been wrapped up-each figurine in a separate swaddle-he swept up the delicate shards of each individual figurine and placed them in each swaddle. Now, he holds the small broom that that bastard had found long ago in one hand and bounces a metal mug-a pair to the one he threw at that bastard-in the other.
“What do you want?” Junsu finally asks.
“Due to the departure of your former roommate, it has been decided that you are in need of a new companion to spend your days with.”
Junsu stares at the limp body. “He looks dead.”
For a second, he thinks the words aren’t his own. They aren’t right. The tone is off. It’s too high pitched. Something is wrong.
And then he realizes: this is exactly what he is supposed to sound like. This is what his voice sounds like.
This is who he is.
“Put him on the couch. And get out.”
Junsu watches as the guards move. They move perfectly synchronized, as if they receive and follow the same instructions without question, which they do, Junsu thinks. Just mindless drones.
They drop this newcomer on the couch unceremoniously and walk out. Perfectly obedient. The body lies with legs at odd angles and an arm trapped awkwardly under a head of hair longer than Junsu’s seen in perhaps a year.
Junsu carefully arranges limbs to lie straight. He remembers doing this before, only that time the limbs were longer and the face wasn’t twisted into a frown but rather an exhausted smile.
By the time Junsu’s done, he thinks that he’s arranged a corpse for a cremation. Hands resting at the sides. Body perfectly still. Waiting to be burned into ashes to be scattered to the winds.
He stares for a very long time. He thinks of many things, but in the end, he can’t remember any of them.
But he can remember eyes.
He thinks they’re brown.
*
The stranger wakes up two hours later.
“Hey,” Junsu says with a mouth suddenly dry. It sounds odd. Awkward. Uncertain.
The man pushes himself up and stares at Junsu for a long moment before he awkwardly mumbles a greeting.
Junsu doesn’t know how to ask the question he wants to ask. He doesn’t know how to talk to this man who stares around him in blank confusion.
It’s strange.
“Where am I?” the man asks.
Junsu thinks. Junsu thinks for a long while. He thinks about what this place is, all concrete and steel. He stares through the doorway into the kitchen and out the kitchen window, barred with an elaborate flower pattern, but barred nevertheless. Protected from the outside.
“You’re safe,” he finally manages. He tries for a smile, though he’s not certain how that works. Not certain how to talk to this stranger.
He stares for a long time, before he reaches to an air to touch what Junsu realizes is an implant.
“What?” the man chokes. “What did you say?”
Junsu blinks and stares for a while.
“My name’s Junsu,” he says instead of: you’re safe. “My name’s Junsu. What’s yours?”
“Kim Jaejoong,” he says. And then he shudders a single shudder and whispers. “My name is Kim Jaejoong.”
He laughs after that. With a hand over his mouth and head bowed down. He laughs and laughs and Junsu wonders what’s so funny.
But Junsu can’t think of anything funny enough to cause such laughter.
All he can think of are bundles of broken glass hidden in a cabinet above the stove.
*
Kim Jaejoong spends the day staring at his hands, not talking or even looking at Junsu. He looks lost, a little. As if he doesn’t know who he is.
That evening, Junsu turns on the news feeds, because that bastard still hasn’t cancelled his subscription. He listens to the feeds with Kim Jaejoong still sitting on the couch. At the end of reassurances that the implant situation is being dealt with, he turns off the feeds and instead turns on his sole form of communication with outside.
The connection is crackly and full of static. He almost expects to hear a familiar bland voice, but instead, a tired and almost weary voice says: “Yes?”
Kim Jaejoong sits up a little.
“I need a new mug,” Junsu says.
“Is your current one unsatisfactory?”
“I only have one. And I have a guest that you’ve very nicely left with me,” Junsu says nastily.
Kim Jaejoong winces.
The voice says, exhausted and weary, “A mug will be sent to you immediately.”
Junsu turns it off without bothering to say goodbye.
“That…” Kim Jaejoong begins hesitantly.
“Was a stupid city counsel guard,” Junsu finishes for him. Junsu has enough of guards. It was a guard who took that bastard away and a guard that brought this strange man into his haven.
“No,” Kim Jaejoong protests softly. He shakes his head. “That was Jung Yunho.” He touches his ear. “He helped me. To run.”
Kim Jaejoong knows the names of guards. Junsu laughs a little, because he remembers some names. Sometimes. “How do you know?” Junsu asks. Not challenging. Just skeptical.
“Because…” Jaejoong hesitates. “Because he sounded the same?” He’s uncertain. Confused.
“You don’t know anything,” Junsu scoffs. “How can you hear anything with that implant off?”
Jaejoong freezes, a hand reaching up to touch the small globe of wiring. He stares at Junsu, face freezing into blandness. Junsu thinks, inanely, that Jaejoong looks like that guard who brought him in.
“I can hear,” Jaejoong finally says. Carefully and slowly. “I always could.”
Then why did you get that implant?
“I just… I didn’t listen enough.”
Jaejoong looks rueful when he smiles, barely a twitch of the lip, at Junsu. “People who get run off the tracks are safety hazards,” he says. And Junsu thinks that in Jaejoong’s eyes are memories that have been long forgotten to everybody but Jaejoong.
(Like the broken figurines that only Junsu knows still exist).
*
Before Junsu sleeps, he returns to the couch where Kim Jaejoong sits. He stands in the doorway while Kim Jaejoong stares at his hands, at the walls, at everything.
Junsu almost feels sorry for Jaejoong.
He stares for a long time, before Kim Jaejoong focuses on him. “Do you have access to the feeds?” he asks.
Junsu nods and points to the worn feed in the center of the room.
Kim Jaejoong settles himself before it. He looks almost confused at it, as if he’s used to a voice whispering in his ear: do this now and do that now.
Junsu turns away.
After a while, he hears Jaejoong whispers to the feed: “Where is Park Yoohwan?”
But even though all Junsu can see are the grey walls before his eyes, he can still hear the soft catch of breath when the feed says that Park Yoohwan lives in the next city over.
TBC [Chapter 5]
So! See? Things are starting to gather together and make sense. Maybe. Bwah.
Things are starting to make sense. Especialy because thi this supposed to end in... 5-6 more chapters. (that tilde is my "approximately" sign because I'm being lazy and not outlining. :D). So things are starting to make sense to me. Which is a good sign.