fic-DBSK-Hand in Hand-Chapter 6
Title: Hand in Hand: Chapter 6
Author: virdant
Length: 1,508 words; multi-part (6/9)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Angst, AU, Sci-fi
Pairing: JaeChun, HoSu, Junsu/? (HoMin)
Summary: Seven years ago, they drugged him, tore him from parents (and he thinks there might have been sisters,) set an implant in his ear, and told him that he was fixed now. He thinks that if he didn’t hate them for that so much, he might be thankful that it was through them that he met Yoochun.
Warning: Disturbing Content.
Notes: So... things are being explained! This is a good thing. Really. For everybody who's been following this fic.
[Chapter 1] / [Chapter 2] / [Chapter 3] / [Chapter 4] / [Chapter 5]
Hand in Hand
Chapter 6
When Jaejoong first met Yoochun five years ago, he had already had his implant for two years. During those two years, he had survived, like he had before the implant. Before the government had taken him just after he had skidded on the tracks and smashed his leg against hard pavement after a particularly vicious push while playing touch-glow-tag.
Seven years ago, they drugged him, tore him from parents (and he thinks there might have been sisters,) set an implant in his ear, and told him that he was fixed now. He thinks that if he didn’t hate them for that so much, he might be thankful that it was through them that he met Yoochun.
Yoochun was Micky back then, one of the many implant programs that had been created. He was one of the first successful AI programs; he could do more than say “turn right here” as you walked down the tracks. Micky was designed to anticipate, communicate, and negotiate, to coax children into learning.
Jaejoong first met Yoochun two years after the implant had been set in his ear, as he was making his way across the city. Like most programs-which Jaejoong had tried-Yoochun introduced himself from the implant with a greeting. Unlike most, Jaejoong could hear the grease and amusement in his drawled: “hello, beautiful.”
That’s what made Yoochun different.
That’s what made Jaejoong respond: “hey yourself,” and laugh-at himself, for talking to a mere program like it was alive-wildly until he had to cover his face with a hand to keep the peculiarity inside of him.
To keep Yoochun inside him.
*
Jaejoong remembers the silence that filled his bones after Yoochun left. He remembers complete confusion. He remembers numbness following confusion.
Then he remembers walking up in a room only grey. He remembers eyes and a strained voice that whispered, “hey,” so softly that he thinks that maybe he’d only imagined it.
He remembers that that voice was not Yoochun’s.
*
Junsu offers him a mug of tea.
“It’s the only thing other than water that the counsel drops off,” Junsu explains, even though he doesn’t need to.
Jaejoong takes it, and then notices that Junsu still has no cup. “Is this…” he begins.
“It’s the only one we have.”
Jaejoong sips the tea and passes it back. “Thanks,” he mutters, even though he’s not sure why.
Junsu clutches the cup tightly. “Who… who’s Park Yoohwan?” he asks.
Jaejoong stares at his hands. He thinks of hands scraped red as fingers scramble to grab onto the track. He thinks of falling and never touching the ground. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “He…” Jaejoong touches the implant in his ear. “He told me to find him.”
“So you’re just going to listen to a program?” Junsu scoffs.
Jaejoong glares. “Yoochun isn’t a program.”
Junsu laughs. “So you say. But he is. Didn’t they turn him off just like that?” He mimes thumbing a switch.
Jaejoong shakes his head, because even if Yoochun did disappear so suddenly… “He’s not. He’s not just a program!”
For a moment, Jaejoong thinks that Junsu has nothing to say. But then Junsu speaks. “I used to have an implant.”
Jaejoong stares.
“I. Three years ago, I lost my voice. That was after I started living here. They gave me an implant, and set it in my throat…” Junsu touches his throat where a white jagged scar stares back at Jaejoong. He swallows, and Jaejoong watches the white strain and shift under Junsu’s fingers. “It didn’t work. And they pulled it out.
“But I remember having it. I remember Eunhyuk. He talked to me, even though I couldn’t talk back because my throat hurt so much. He sang me lullabies at night and breathed with me through the pain.
“And when they pulled it out, Eunhyuk left. They let me see him, afterwards. Let me see the numbers. Shim Changmin, that bastard.” Here Junsu laughs a little, a raw laugh, before he continues, “Changmin showed me, because he was part of that group designing programs to flit into implants. He showed me what Eunhyuk looked like.”
Jaejoong opens his mouth to protest.
“Changmin was nicer then. Of course, afterwards, when I told him to show me what Eunhyuk was really like… I couldn’t talk then, not right after they pulled out the implant, so I wrote my request down and later he found me a transmitter so he could hear words I couldn’t say. I told him to show me what Eunhyuk looks like, and he showed me, even though he wasn’t supposed to.”
“I,” Jaejoong begins.
Junsu continues over Jaejoong’s soft protest. “And then they threw him in with me because he wasn’t supposed to defy them. He was their pretty puppet, who would make their programs for them. And he did, because he didn’t know better. He did a series of homework assignments before they offered him a job and he turned it down.”
Junsu smiles a little, and Jaejoong thinks that Junsu would be beautiful if he weren’t trapped in this room. “And… and d’you know? The last thing he did with his access to those feeds was to show me Hyukjae.”
*
The next morning, as the sun shines in through the bars of the window, Jaejoong brews chrysanthemum tea. He pours the tea into the single mug in their new home, watching the water bubble.
When Junsu stumbles in, Jaejoong pushes the tea to him. Junsu reaches for it; he yelps at the heat. Jaejoong keeps his hands wrapped around the mug even as Junsu sips and grimaces at the tea.
“Tell me about Shim Changmin,” Jaejoong says as firmly as he can.
Junsu shakes his head, still half asleep.
Jaejoong tugs the mug closer to him. Junsu lets go, whimpering a little. “I have to know, Junsu-yah,” he coaxes. “Tell me about Shim Changmin.”
Junsu yawns and reaches for the tea.
“Tell me, Junsu-yah.”
“Bastard’s working for the government,” Junsu mumbles. “With the stupid counsel.” He reaches for the tea.
Jaejoong lets Junsu’s fingers brush against the warmth before he tugs it back again. “Tell me more, Junsu-yah,” he says sweetly.
“Doing stuff. With implants. Finding what makes people get sick.”
“Where is he working?” Jaejoong asks, letting the tea swirl a little in front of Junsu.
Junsu lets out another whimpering yawn. “Somewhere in this building, ‘suppose. ‘s not like they’d let him work anywhere else.”
Jaejoong presses the cup into Junsu’s hands, but still clings tightly to it. “One more question, Junsu-yah. One more question, alright?”
Junsu nods sleepily.
“How do you get out?”
“Dunno. Have to wait until somebody lets you out. Like a guard or something. Guards took Changmin away. That bastard.”
Jaejoong makes sure Junsu’s fingers are firmly wrapped around the cup before he lets go. “Thank you, Junsu-yah,” he whispers.
Junsu sips the tea. “You didn’t need to try to trick me,” he says with a drowsy smile, but clearly wide awake. He smiles sweetly around the mug, reaching forward to gently touch Jaejoong’s hand. “You didn’t need to, Jaejoong. I would have told you anyways.”
*
“Are you really thinking about leaving?” Junsu asks, all wide eyes and sweet smile.
Jaejoong almost expects to hear Yoochun whisper a response. He thinks he can imagine Yoochun’s lazy drawl in his ear, asking: “Whatcha waiting for?”
“Maybe,” Jaejoong says. To the memory of Yoochun, he thinks: “I don’t know.”
“Tell me about Yoochun,” Junsu requests. “Tell me about him, please?”
Jaejoong thinks. “He was…” useful isn’t the right word. But Jaejoong can’t remember what he thinks. He remembers Yoochun as precious. Remembers Yoochun as more
Junsu presses a hand to Jaejoong’s. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I understand.”
And Jaejoong thinks that perhaps Junsu does understand.
The way he thinks Jung Yunho with the tired eyes understood before he whispered: run.
“Ask him about me, Jaejoong,” Jaejoong thinks Yoochun whispers. “Ask Park Yoohwan about me.”
But where is he? Where is he, Yoochun?
Yoochun has no answer.
*
“I need you to take me to Shim Changmin.”
Kim Junsu ignores him in favor of opening the door, blandness slipped onto his face.
“Here,” the guard says, and it’s Jung Yunho, offering a tin mug to Junsu. Junsu accepts it without bothering to acknowledge Yunho and moves to close the door. “Wait,” Yunho adds.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Junsu begins, still not looking up.
“I’m sorry.” And then Jaejoong watches as Jung Yunho, without the badge in Commek, reaching forward to wrap hands around Junsu’s, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Junsu-yah. I had no choice.”
And Junsu, still refusing to look at Yunho, asks dismissively, “What are you talking about?”
Jung Yunho breaks, and Jaejoong watches, because there is nothing else to see. He doesn’t shatter, but rather crumbles. First the face, and then the entire body, sagging in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I know now. Please. Please.
“Just look at me.”
TBC [Chapter 7]
So uh. This would have been posted yesterday. Except I got plunnied with other fic, so I wrote and fixed and posted that one instead of finishing and fixing and posting this. But uh, things are being explained now, which is both good and bad. Good because that means that this fic is wrapping up, and bad because now I don't have nearly as much room to play around in. But yeah. Here.
Author: virdant
Length: 1,508 words; multi-part (6/9)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Angst, AU, Sci-fi
Pairing: JaeChun, HoSu, Junsu/? (HoMin)
Summary: Seven years ago, they drugged him, tore him from parents (and he thinks there might have been sisters,) set an implant in his ear, and told him that he was fixed now. He thinks that if he didn’t hate them for that so much, he might be thankful that it was through them that he met Yoochun.
Warning: Disturbing Content.
Notes: So... things are being explained! This is a good thing. Really. For everybody who's been following this fic.
[Chapter 1] / [Chapter 2] / [Chapter 3] / [Chapter 4] / [Chapter 5]
Hand in Hand
Chapter 6
When Jaejoong first met Yoochun five years ago, he had already had his implant for two years. During those two years, he had survived, like he had before the implant. Before the government had taken him just after he had skidded on the tracks and smashed his leg against hard pavement after a particularly vicious push while playing touch-glow-tag.
Seven years ago, they drugged him, tore him from parents (and he thinks there might have been sisters,) set an implant in his ear, and told him that he was fixed now. He thinks that if he didn’t hate them for that so much, he might be thankful that it was through them that he met Yoochun.
Yoochun was Micky back then, one of the many implant programs that had been created. He was one of the first successful AI programs; he could do more than say “turn right here” as you walked down the tracks. Micky was designed to anticipate, communicate, and negotiate, to coax children into learning.
Jaejoong first met Yoochun two years after the implant had been set in his ear, as he was making his way across the city. Like most programs-which Jaejoong had tried-Yoochun introduced himself from the implant with a greeting. Unlike most, Jaejoong could hear the grease and amusement in his drawled: “hello, beautiful.”
That’s what made Yoochun different.
That’s what made Jaejoong respond: “hey yourself,” and laugh-at himself, for talking to a mere program like it was alive-wildly until he had to cover his face with a hand to keep the peculiarity inside of him.
To keep Yoochun inside him.
*
Jaejoong remembers the silence that filled his bones after Yoochun left. He remembers complete confusion. He remembers numbness following confusion.
Then he remembers walking up in a room only grey. He remembers eyes and a strained voice that whispered, “hey,” so softly that he thinks that maybe he’d only imagined it.
He remembers that that voice was not Yoochun’s.
*
Junsu offers him a mug of tea.
“It’s the only thing other than water that the counsel drops off,” Junsu explains, even though he doesn’t need to.
Jaejoong takes it, and then notices that Junsu still has no cup. “Is this…” he begins.
“It’s the only one we have.”
Jaejoong sips the tea and passes it back. “Thanks,” he mutters, even though he’s not sure why.
Junsu clutches the cup tightly. “Who… who’s Park Yoohwan?” he asks.
Jaejoong stares at his hands. He thinks of hands scraped red as fingers scramble to grab onto the track. He thinks of falling and never touching the ground. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “He…” Jaejoong touches the implant in his ear. “He told me to find him.”
“So you’re just going to listen to a program?” Junsu scoffs.
Jaejoong glares. “Yoochun isn’t a program.”
Junsu laughs. “So you say. But he is. Didn’t they turn him off just like that?” He mimes thumbing a switch.
Jaejoong shakes his head, because even if Yoochun did disappear so suddenly… “He’s not. He’s not just a program!”
For a moment, Jaejoong thinks that Junsu has nothing to say. But then Junsu speaks. “I used to have an implant.”
Jaejoong stares.
“I. Three years ago, I lost my voice. That was after I started living here. They gave me an implant, and set it in my throat…” Junsu touches his throat where a white jagged scar stares back at Jaejoong. He swallows, and Jaejoong watches the white strain and shift under Junsu’s fingers. “It didn’t work. And they pulled it out.
“But I remember having it. I remember Eunhyuk. He talked to me, even though I couldn’t talk back because my throat hurt so much. He sang me lullabies at night and breathed with me through the pain.
“And when they pulled it out, Eunhyuk left. They let me see him, afterwards. Let me see the numbers. Shim Changmin, that bastard.” Here Junsu laughs a little, a raw laugh, before he continues, “Changmin showed me, because he was part of that group designing programs to flit into implants. He showed me what Eunhyuk looked like.”
Jaejoong opens his mouth to protest.
“Changmin was nicer then. Of course, afterwards, when I told him to show me what Eunhyuk was really like… I couldn’t talk then, not right after they pulled out the implant, so I wrote my request down and later he found me a transmitter so he could hear words I couldn’t say. I told him to show me what Eunhyuk looks like, and he showed me, even though he wasn’t supposed to.”
“I,” Jaejoong begins.
Junsu continues over Jaejoong’s soft protest. “And then they threw him in with me because he wasn’t supposed to defy them. He was their pretty puppet, who would make their programs for them. And he did, because he didn’t know better. He did a series of homework assignments before they offered him a job and he turned it down.”
Junsu smiles a little, and Jaejoong thinks that Junsu would be beautiful if he weren’t trapped in this room. “And… and d’you know? The last thing he did with his access to those feeds was to show me Hyukjae.”
*
The next morning, as the sun shines in through the bars of the window, Jaejoong brews chrysanthemum tea. He pours the tea into the single mug in their new home, watching the water bubble.
When Junsu stumbles in, Jaejoong pushes the tea to him. Junsu reaches for it; he yelps at the heat. Jaejoong keeps his hands wrapped around the mug even as Junsu sips and grimaces at the tea.
“Tell me about Shim Changmin,” Jaejoong says as firmly as he can.
Junsu shakes his head, still half asleep.
Jaejoong tugs the mug closer to him. Junsu lets go, whimpering a little. “I have to know, Junsu-yah,” he coaxes. “Tell me about Shim Changmin.”
Junsu yawns and reaches for the tea.
“Tell me, Junsu-yah.”
“Bastard’s working for the government,” Junsu mumbles. “With the stupid counsel.” He reaches for the tea.
Jaejoong lets Junsu’s fingers brush against the warmth before he tugs it back again. “Tell me more, Junsu-yah,” he says sweetly.
“Doing stuff. With implants. Finding what makes people get sick.”
“Where is he working?” Jaejoong asks, letting the tea swirl a little in front of Junsu.
Junsu lets out another whimpering yawn. “Somewhere in this building, ‘suppose. ‘s not like they’d let him work anywhere else.”
Jaejoong presses the cup into Junsu’s hands, but still clings tightly to it. “One more question, Junsu-yah. One more question, alright?”
Junsu nods sleepily.
“How do you get out?”
“Dunno. Have to wait until somebody lets you out. Like a guard or something. Guards took Changmin away. That bastard.”
Jaejoong makes sure Junsu’s fingers are firmly wrapped around the cup before he lets go. “Thank you, Junsu-yah,” he whispers.
Junsu sips the tea. “You didn’t need to try to trick me,” he says with a drowsy smile, but clearly wide awake. He smiles sweetly around the mug, reaching forward to gently touch Jaejoong’s hand. “You didn’t need to, Jaejoong. I would have told you anyways.”
*
“Are you really thinking about leaving?” Junsu asks, all wide eyes and sweet smile.
Jaejoong almost expects to hear Yoochun whisper a response. He thinks he can imagine Yoochun’s lazy drawl in his ear, asking: “Whatcha waiting for?”
“Maybe,” Jaejoong says. To the memory of Yoochun, he thinks: “I don’t know.”
“Tell me about Yoochun,” Junsu requests. “Tell me about him, please?”
Jaejoong thinks. “He was…” useful isn’t the right word. But Jaejoong can’t remember what he thinks. He remembers Yoochun as precious. Remembers Yoochun as more
Junsu presses a hand to Jaejoong’s. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I understand.”
And Jaejoong thinks that perhaps Junsu does understand.
The way he thinks Jung Yunho with the tired eyes understood before he whispered: run.
“Ask him about me, Jaejoong,” Jaejoong thinks Yoochun whispers. “Ask Park Yoohwan about me.”
But where is he? Where is he, Yoochun?
Yoochun has no answer.
*
“I need you to take me to Shim Changmin.”
Kim Junsu ignores him in favor of opening the door, blandness slipped onto his face.
“Here,” the guard says, and it’s Jung Yunho, offering a tin mug to Junsu. Junsu accepts it without bothering to acknowledge Yunho and moves to close the door. “Wait,” Yunho adds.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Junsu begins, still not looking up.
“I’m sorry.” And then Jaejoong watches as Jung Yunho, without the badge in Commek, reaching forward to wrap hands around Junsu’s, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Junsu-yah. I had no choice.”
And Junsu, still refusing to look at Yunho, asks dismissively, “What are you talking about?”
Jung Yunho breaks, and Jaejoong watches, because there is nothing else to see. He doesn’t shatter, but rather crumbles. First the face, and then the entire body, sagging in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I know now. Please. Please.
“Just look at me.”
TBC [Chapter 7]
So uh. This would have been posted yesterday. Except I got plunnied with other fic, so I wrote and fixed and posted that one instead of finishing and fixing and posting this. But uh, things are being explained now, which is both good and bad. Good because that means that this fic is wrapping up, and bad because now I don't have nearly as much room to play around in. But yeah. Here.