tear us down (3/4)
Title: tear us down
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: None, OT12
Genre: Murder/Suspense
Word Count: 18,060 words
Warnings: Death, mentions of child abuse
Summary: Circus!AU. There is no such thing as being able to bury the past.
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV
Zitao finds himself being roughly shaken awake by Kris the next morning. Rubbing tired eyes, he sits up and and gives Kris a confused look, but the frightened expression on Kris’ face is enough to bring him to his senses. “What... what’s going on?”
Kris shakes his head, his eyebrows drawn in close and he stands up and pulls open the flap of the tent. “Two more,” is all he says. He quickly exits the tent, presumably striding off towards the lion cages.
Zitao quickly makes his way outside as well, finding Junmyeon alone in the center of the clearing, hunched over two bodies, and he swallows queasily as he takes in the sight of Chanyeol and Minseok lined up next to each other on blood-stained ground. The fire dancer is pale and cold, his face deathly white and his eyes glassy and un-seeing, but the blood seems to come from the two bullet wounds eating into Minseok. The crimson burns into the skin, discoloring the ruined shirt over his chest, and Zitao closes his eyes painfully as he observes the gruesome hole blown into the man’s forehead, blood crusting down the side of the face and clumping in Minseok’s hair.
With a shaky intake of breath, Zitao curls his arms against his torso, rocking slowly on his heels. “I told him to be careful,” he whispers, his words raw against the heavy air. “He must have seen something.”
Junmyeon shifts beside him, finally aware of the younger boy’s presence. He motions helplessly at Minseok’s limp form. “Zitao, he was… he was shot.” He pulls at his hair and steps back, his whole body trembling as he gives Zitao a frantic look.
“I didn’t-I didn’t think any of us c-carried guns...”
Junmyeon’s face is deathly grey and frightened, overwhelmed with both terror and sorrow. He takes a shuddering breath, his throat constricting as he tries to find words. “It... it could be me next. Or you. Or... We could wake up one morning and... another could be gone... or maybe we wouldn’t... w-wake up... w-we’d-”
Zitao shakes his head furiously and puts a hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “We can’t think like that, Junmyeon. That’s just what the murderer wants. We have to stay strong, stay calm, so we can figure this out.” He leans down and meets Junmyeon’s eyes, his own expression serious. “Do you understand?”
The ringmaster nods shakily, grasping at Zitao’s hands as his knees give out and he slowly crumples to the ground near Chanyeol’s head. He gives the unmoving form a cautious look, before sighing and gently using his index finger to close the fire dancer’s eyes one last time.
“We... should bury them, at least. Properly.”
And so they do. Junmyeon says he’s too weak to move much, so they bury the two bodies right there in the clearing, using the menial task of digging to occupy their thoughts. Baekhyun and Sehun join them a while later, after the sun is high into the sky, and they silently go to work without a word. Luhan appears towards the end with a couple of drooping flowers, holding them out to Baekhyun with a solemn look on his face. Baekhyun accepts them and crouches down before the two mounds of freshly dug earth, and with a trembling lip, he places them delicately in the centers, quiet tears leaving stains on his cheeks.
They move the camp fire a little towards the left, away from the site of the burial. Without Kyungsoo and now Minseok, no one is quite sure how to make a proper meal, but Luhan tries his best. Even if the soup’s a little watery, no one says anything.
There’s a dreadful silence throughout the meal. A tense rift has developed between the members; Everyone on one side, Jongdae on the other, with Junmyeon awkwardly trying to fill the gap in between. The snake charmer sits still, his narrow eyes following the movements of the others, and Zitao feels the hairs on his neck prickling uncomfortably every time that piercing gaze lands on him. At this point, it almost feels as though Jongdae’s watchful eyes are always on his back, and Zitao loses sense of the feeling, becoming unsure if it’s just Jongdae’s gaze or everyone’s that seems to watch him.
Evidently, the others feel just as uncomfortable, and eventually Luhan snaps and throws his bowl against the ground, glaring angrily across the fire at Jongdae. “I’ve had it with you!” he shrieks, pointing a threatening finger at the other man, “People are dying, and you have the nerve to sit there and evaluate us?! What do you think we are, packaged meat? Deciding who to knock off next?” His voice cracks, and tears are streaming down his face once more as he gets to his feet, pulling Sehun up with him.
“I’m done with this,” he whispers dangerously. The fire crackles ominously in the background, casting angry shadows against Luhan’s face. “We’re leaving.”
Junmyeon starts, giving the older man a worried look. “Leaving?”
“I’m not gonna lie around waiting to be slaughtered.” Luhan snorts almost hysterically and spits in Jongdae’s direction. With a turn of his heel, he marches off towards his tent, dragging a concerned Sehun with him.
Jongdae has his eyes slanted closed, a oddly serene smile on his face. “You can run, but it won’t do you any good,” he says, cracking one lazy eye open as the others around the fire back away from him slowly. “It’s not like the murderer will just let you leave.”
With those last words, he rises to his feet as well and saunters off, his footsteps inaudible against the soft grass.
-
Sleep seems impossible, and the remaining few stay huddled around the fire, afraid to slip into unconsciousness for fear that they wouldn’t wake up the next morning. They keep up well into the night, but the mentally exhausting day is quickly taking its toll on them, and soon Baekhyun is nodding off on Junmyeon’s shoulder, his forehead creased and drawn even in sleep.
Zitao sits quietly next to Kris, drawing designs idly in the dirt. Multiple times, Kris begins to say something, but never gets much further than abruptly cutting himself off when addressing Zitao.
The boy wants to press the matter, but there’s something familiar in the way Kris looks away that wills him to remain silent.
The ringmaster eventually drifts off against Baekhyun as well, and Zitao offers to keep watch, taking note of the deep circles Kris is failing to hide. With a grateful yawn, Kris leans back against the ground, curling his face into the crook of his arm. The rise and fall of his chest soon evens out and Zitao resumes his vigil, staring quietly as the fire slowly dies into glowing embers that twinkle faintly in the darkness that presses in.
-
The lights turn upwards, towards the top of the tent, and the audience catches sight of two platforms mounted high into the air, on opposite sides of the tent. There’s a young man standing on each, the taller one wrapped in glittering light green satin, the other in a pale, rose-colored silk.
Suho’s voice breaks the air once again, his tone light and cheerful. “I do hope you are enjoying the show so far, ladies and gentlemen! For our next performance, we have a very special duo act. Please welcome our finest flying trapeze artists, Sehun and Luhan!” The two on the platforms give a friendly wave as their names are called, and the audience cheers excitedly.
Luhan makes the first move, grasping onto the fly bar with both hands and taking a deep breath in preparation. Across the ring, Sehun gives him an encouraging smile, mouthing out a single sentence. I’ve got you. He gives a short yell, the command for Luhan to begin.
With a rush of air, Luhan leaps from the platform, his legs pulled up to his chest, and after a couple swings to get the momentum up, he lets go of the bar, soaring through the air with a triple layout combination, his arms tight against his sides until the very end as Sehun swoops by, hanging from his knees as he reaches and clasps his hands around Luhan’s wrists.
The audience roars delightedly, but they’re only just beginning. With a powerful swing, Luhan launches from Sehun’s grip, finishing the return by somersaulting through the air and taking hold of his fly bar once more as it brings him back to his platform with an elegant sweep. Sehun does a simple backflip onto the other platform, and the crowd goes wild again, eager for more.
Sehun does the next one, performing a flawless, twisting double. Luhan catches him with his ankles, giving Sehun an extra boost to return, grabbing on to his bar and landing gracefully. They do countless tricks, swinging back and forth: Splits, twists, full turns, half turns, layouts, cutaways, pirouettes. Luhan demonstrates perfect hip circles, both forwards and backwards, wowing the audience as he folds himself over the bar multiple times. Sehun excels at the leaps, throwing himself through the air with twists and curls, each time finding safety in Luhan’s grasp.
Their finale is a combination: They both leave the platforms, mirroring each other with a few graceful pirouettes and a half turn, mounting speed as Luhan lets out a last shout to signal Sehun. The other trapeze artist begins his arc, moving fluidly through the air as he releases into a stunning twisting triple. Luhan circles against his bar, hanging by the knees as he catches Sehun’s hands, swinging him to the platform and landing next to him in a similar fashion. The crowd thunders an applause, stomping their feet and cheering as Sehun and Luhan wrap an arm around each other, breathing heavily and beaming as they bow one last time to the enthusiastic audience.
-
“Kris... Kris, you gotta wake up, I wasn’t-I didn’t realize-” Zitao shakes Kris awake, his eyes wide as he desperately tries to rouse the older man from slumber. Kris blinks at him through a sleepy haze, his brow furrowing at Zitao’s panicked expression. “What...?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I must have dozed off and I didn’t-” He stops himself and shakes his head, giving Kris a fearful look. “They’re dead, Kris. Just like... just like Jongdae said.”
Kris sits up sharply. “Show me.”
Zitao swallows visibly, and he pulls Kris up by the wrist, taking him behind the circle of tents. Just beyond the clearing, they come upon Luhan and Sehun, pale and lifeless as they slump against each other, their weight supported against one of the trees.
Kris inhales sharply and closes his eyes when he catches sight of the ugly blood splatters that cover the tree’s bark and flush against the duo’s ragged clothing.
Zitao hangs his head, mumbling softly to the ground, his toes curling against the grass. “They were... they were trying to escape.”
Kris frowns as he cautiously returns his eyes to the two bodies before him, his gaze narrowed and carefully blank as he evaluates. He motions eventually to the wounds in both of Sehun and Luhan’s chests, large, crusting and inflamed areas that seem to be the source of most of the blood. “It... it was a gun. Like Minseok.” With a grimace, he steels himself and gingerly reaches under Sehun’s arms, pulling the limp form away from the tree. “Come on, I don’t want Junmyeon or Baekhyun to have to see this. They’re both emotional enough already, as it is.”
Zitao nods stiffly and holds his breath, dragging Luhan’s body by the armpits as he follows Kris deeper into the forest, his eyes watering from the nauseating scent of death.
They make haste in burying Luhan and Sehun side by side in a nearby gap in the trees, working quickly and silently in the gloomy morning haze. The sun never shows its face, but the air feels hot and heavy against Zitao’s back, and a grueling hour later he sits down heavily next to the freshly over-turned earth, a solemn look plastered against his face. He wipes his forehead with a dirty hand and pulls his beret off his head, turning it slowly in his hands.
Kris settles down next to Zitao, his head bowed and his back hunched. There are no words at first, only uncomfortable tension, and the sun slowly creeps high in the sky. Neither move from their spots, although Kris shifts anxiously many times, his mouth occasionally opening in a question that never seems to form. The fifth time Kris does this, Zitao winces and finally breaks.
“Kris.”
“Mm?” The older man jolts visibly and looks away, avoiding Zitao’s searching glance.
“Kris, you’ve been hiding something. Why... why can’t you just...” He trails off at Kris’ pained expression, and curls in around himself and trying to ignore the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Kris, I’m serious, why can’t you just tell me, you always-”
His persistence is cut off by a loud shout from the other side of the clearing. The pair jolt as Baekhyun rushes into view, but the careful expression Kris pulls onto his face is enough to let Zitao know he’s been closed away from the conversation.
“Zitao! Kris! Why are you-what-” He pants, his chest heaving from running, and his sentence stops short as he braces himself on his knees. His expression quickly drops in horror as he notices the two mounds of earth, side by side in the clearing, decorated with some shaky pebble designs Kris had tried to add.
Baekhyun turns deathly white, trembling as he cautiously crouches next to Sehun and Luhan’s graves. His voice barely reaches a coarse whisper.
“They... how did... when...”
Kris gets up and pulls Baekhyun away from the clearing, Zitao following close behind as the lion tamer quickly takes Baekhyun back to the tent circle. Junmyeon is pacing nervously around the dead ashes of the fire pit, but his face floods with relief when he sees the trio approaching.
“We were so worried Kris, you have no idea-” Junmyeon runs up to them, his joyous expression terribly short-lived when he takes in the mood pressing on the others. He pulls back, biting his lip as he looks at the three fearfully. “W-what....? Please... no, don’t tell me it was another-” Kris gives him a quiet nod before his sentence makes it out, and the ringmaster lets out a muffled noise, his knees giving way and Kris hastily grips Junmyeon’s arm to steady him, pulling the younger man into an embrace. Baekhyun wraps an arm around Junmyeon’s waist, silently joining the other two.
Zitao feels his heart lurch and he stands a little distance away, giving the others a little space as he tries to deny the empty feeling that threatens to consume him from inside out. He’s terribly reminded of the possibility that maybe, even after all this time, they had never truly accepted him. Perhaps it had all been a ruse. Why else would Kris hide things from him?
Without a word, he leaves the three friends in the clearing, and isn’t surprised when they don’t notice him missing.
-
“Zitao.”
Kris finds him that evening hiding out in their tent, hunched quietly on his cot as he winds his beret repeatedly between his hands. Zitao acknowledges Kris with a small nod, his eyes trained on the floppy fabric in his hands even as Kris slowly sits beside him.
“Zitao, I... I need to tell you something.” Kris’ tone is controlled and even, but Zitao’s ears twitch at the hint of uneasiness behind the older man’s words.
“About time.”
“I...” Kris sighs heavily. “You’re right, I should have... I should have said something earlier. I was an idiot, and-” Wetting his lips nervously, Kris turns his gaze up to the low ceiling of the tent, tapping one foot nervously against the ground.
“Let me just-okay. Zitao, I... well, like you... I used to be a child performer.”
Zitao stares.
“... Okay.”
“No, but-” Kris shakes his head furiously, finally giving Zitao a desperately apologetic look, his eyebrows furrowed anxiously. “Zitao, I’m sorry, I know I really should have said something before, anything, and I tried so many times but-but I couldn’t. I-” He exhales slowly, visibly deflating as he slumps further into the cot. “I was afraid you’d start to... suspect me. Because-”
He doesn’t continue, his mouth set in an uncertain line. Zitao narrows his eyes suspiciously and moves slowly away, positioning himself on the edge of the cot. “Kris. Tell me.”
The lion tamer bites at the inside of his cheek. “You... do you remember the Circus S.M. that... Jongdae... used to mention, like, all the time?”
“... Of course...”
Zitao says nothing more, though his back stiffens against the bed as he grips the metal bars on the sides, his knuckles clenched white, recalling a conversation he had once had. A conversation with an acrobat named Yixing.
Kris only minimally notices Zitao’s discomfort and continues hesitantly.
“Those child performers, Zitao. I was-”
They say there were two bodies missing. Two survivors.
… Two?
“No.”
“... I... what?” Kris falters, blinking with confusion as Zitao gasps and stands up abruptly, slowly backing away from the older man, his face ashen and disturbed with sudden realization. He points one shaky finger towards Kris, his eyes ablaze with an unsettling light. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. There’s no way Yixing could be telling the tru-”
“Zitao, please!” Kris grabs for the boy’s hand, but Zitao yanks it away, snarling as if Kris was suddenly some gruesome stranger he no longer recognized.
“Zitao no, please, just listen, I didn’t tell you because... I couldn’t, Zitao, you... you look so much like him, I didn’t see it at first but you really do, and I couldn’t bring myself to-” He’s cut off as Zitao shoves him forcefully in the chest. Kris topples back precariously against the cot, his expression hurt and lost as Zitao avidly ignores his protests.
“What else are you hiding, Kris? Huh? Got another secret up your sleeve? Or perhaps a knife? A pistol, even?” With a dry smile, Zitao shakes his head and backs away, a new light shining in his eyes as he grabs at the edges of the tent flaps. “I trusted you, Kris, but I should have known. I should have realized.”
“Zitao, wait, you’ve got it wrong-” Kris is yelling after him desperately, but Zitao flees the tent, his blood boiling with turmoil and as he storms off into the inky air of the settling darkness, the trees quickly closing around him.
-
“Zitao!” Baekhyun’s voice floats through the air, and Zitao grimaces, turning reluctantly to acknowledge the shorter man as he rushes forward. The equilibrist pulls up short next to him, his face tired and drawn, a ghost of his once carefree nature, but there’s still a tiny pique of curiosity in the corners of his eyes. “I saw you leave the camp so suddenly... Where are you going, Zitao?”
He forces a smile. “Baekhyun please, I don’t want to-” but Baekhyun isn’t listening, his face instead quickly hardening into a look of fierce determination.
“You’re looking for Jongdae, right? Gonna confront him? Let... let me do it, he’s killed enough of my friends already.” The shorter man’s lip quivers as he says this, creating just a slight tremor in his voice that gives away way his fragile condition and fearful thoughts.
“Baek-” Zitao shakes his head in in exasperation, his mind still reeling from his earlier confrontation. He didn’t have the ability to deal with this right now, and it was becoming apparent that there was no one he could trust. If Kris could keep things from him, who knew what Baekhyun could be hiding? Zitao was losing sight of the way out; Everywhere he turned, the walls pressed in closer.
Baekhyun’s eyes widen in confusion when Zitao meets them with his own unreadable expression. “Z-Zitao...? What-”
There’s just the slightest rustle of movement from the undergrowth behind the two young men.
-
“Please keep your eyes trained to the platforms, for our next act is also high above the ground! Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Byun Baekhyun, an expert of equilibristics. If you look above, you will find the young man already in position to begin.” The crowd looks up at Suho’s urging, their eyes finding Baekhyun, dressed in a rich burgundy uniform trimmed with golden stripes and tassels. Perched precariously on a single tight rope that stretches from one platform to the next, he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by the dangerous height and waves energetically at the people below.
He skips easily across the tightrope, turning lightly on his feet as he reaches one of the platforms. He steadies himself with one deep breath, and then the crowd bursts into cheers as he begins to backflip back along the wire, his movements never faltering as he catapults himself across the taut rope. The applause is deafening when he lands on the opposite side, his grin wide and cheeky as he gives a flourishing bow to his viewers below.
Before he returns to the center of the ring, he pulls a total of seven pins from a small chest placed in a corner of the platform. With a few careful steps, Baekhyun makes his way back along the rope, the pins held in his slender fingers. Once steadied, he throws a one juggling pin into the air, letting it fly high towards the ceiling of the circus tent as he adds a second one, then a third. He soon finds himself juggling all seven in wide arcs, standing on one foot and catching the occasional stray pin with his nose to keep the juggling circle constant. The crowd becomes dizzy just watching.
Baekhyun performs many other tricks. Besides flawless flips and breathtaking twirls, all done on a single line that quivers with each land, he also proves extremely talented in the art of plate spinning and baton twirling, leaving the audience roaring as he throws three batons in complex twists all at once. With a final toss, he manages to do a backflip while the batons soar up, landing in time to catch a baton in each hand, the third caught between his teeth.
Amongst the wild yells of the audience, Baekhyun gives another dramatic bow, scooping an arm under his torso as he stills himself in the center of the rope. The darkened kohl around his eyes casts shadows against his grinning face as the spotlight fades rather suddenly, obscuring Baekhyun from the audience’s sight.
-
Jongdae smiles coldly as he steps delicately over Baekhyun’s limp body, his head tilted slightly as he gazes up at the other’s horrified expression. Zitao takes a shaky step back, his hands curling into fists as the snake charmer presses in closer. “Y-you-” He manages to gasp out, choking on his own words as Jongdae delicately wraps his fingers in the collar of his shirt and yanks him closer. Max and Yunho are slowly winding themselves around his legs, spiraling close and whispering to each other as their master hisses in Zitao’s ear.
“Have you had your fun yet?”
Zitao stands up straighter, one hand finding a place around Jongdae’s throat as he returns Jongdae’s narrow gaze with a piercing glare of his own. “And just what are you up to now, hmm?” His breath ghosts over Jongdae’s face as he gives the snake charmer a cruel quirk of his lips, applying just a miniscule amount of pressure with his thumb against Jongdae’s neck.
The smaller man’s grin doesn’t falter, his eyes lidded and relaxed as he tightens his grip in Zitao’s shirt. “Something I should have done long ago, don’t you think? You’re too clever for your own good, Zitao.” The viper is now sliding quietly over Zitao’s shoulder, its scales rippling quietly against the fabric, but Zitao only freezes when he feels the mangrove snake beginning to wrap itself around his own neck in a painfully slow manner. WIth wide eyes, he snarls angrily and presses harder into Jongdae’s skin, forcing the other’s chin up as his fingers dig just under the jawbone.
“A little late, aren’t you? Do you really think this is going to stop me?” Zitao shakes his head in cold amusement. Jongdae’s breath begins to grow shallow, though his eyes remain bright with defiance. “Don’t be stupid, Jongdae. I’m not afraid of you.”
With his free hand, Zitao claws at the reptile against his throat, flinging it against the tree behind him. The snake falls to the forest floor with a dull thud, and Zitao quickly reaches back and snaps Max’s neck before the other reptile can launch an attack. The viper releases from Zitao’s shoulder, spiraling to the ground beside its lost brother.
“You-” Jongdae stutters, gasping for air as Zitao slams him against a tree, his feet dangling just above the roots. Both of Zitao’s hands find purchase against the man’s neck, his grip relentless even as Jongdae grabs frantically at the fingers closing in on his throat.
“Give up, Jongdae. You never had a chance,” Zitao whispers almost lazily into the crisp air, his stare empty and cold. The snake charmer closes his eyes in pain, his hands still clinging desperately around the other’s wrists even as his body admits defeat. He gives a last shuddering breath, his voice cracking under the strain.
“Yixing, I-”
Zitao growls and slams Jongdae’s head harshly against the tree.
-
The audience perks up in interest as a strange, foreign tune begins to fill the tent, looking eagerly into the darkness for the source of the sound. Suho speaks out softly as a warm light shines down on a small man sitting cross-legged in the center of the ring, clothed in a simple, faded green tunic and sash.
“Snakes, ladies and gentlemen. As I’m sure you know, these reptiles can be highly poisonous, highly dangerous predators. Yet under this man’s gentle tune, they become harmless, willing entertainers and fascinating dancers. Please, give your full attention to Chen, our masterful snake charmer.”
The melody filters slowly into the confines of the tent, its slow, sorrowful notes originating from the delicate flute that Chen holds in his slender grip. The people, enraptured by the calming song that washes over them, gasp collectively in hushed tones as the head of a pale, golden viper peeks out from a small woven basket that is settled in front of the young man. It moves slowly with the music, its head bobbing slightly as it raises further from the confines of the basket.
Soon, a second reptile appears, winding carefully around its companion. The snake’s dark scales contrast with the golden tone of the first, swirling into a pattern as together, the two snakes rise to full height, their heads swiveling towards the sounds that emanate from Chen’s instrument.
Chen opens his eyes slightly, giving the snakes a gentle smile as the music comes to a stop. There’s a beat of silence, and the audience holds its breath as the snakes tilt their heads in question. Their master folds his hands in his lap, his eye contact with the two reptiles never faltering as he parts his lips and begins to sing, the same tune from before now breaking the air softly with unidentifiable syllables that spread to every corner of the room.
At Chen’s voice, the snakes move once more, twisting in endless patterns and circles around each other, molding into a single snake as they dance in sync to Chen’s eerie tune. Entranced, the crowd loses sight of time and space as the quiet melody resounds in their eardrums.
After an eternity, a blink of an eye, Chen’s gentle tune draws to a close, and he closes his eyes and picks up his flute once more, letting the snakes fall slowly back into their basket, the quivering note of the wooden instrument holding itself up in the hushed quiet that falls as the lights dim and fade to nothing.
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: None, OT12
Genre: Murder/Suspense
Word Count: 18,060 words
Warnings: Death, mentions of child abuse
Summary: Circus!AU. There is no such thing as being able to bury the past.
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV
Zitao finds himself being roughly shaken awake by Kris the next morning. Rubbing tired eyes, he sits up and and gives Kris a confused look, but the frightened expression on Kris’ face is enough to bring him to his senses. “What... what’s going on?”
Kris shakes his head, his eyebrows drawn in close and he stands up and pulls open the flap of the tent. “Two more,” is all he says. He quickly exits the tent, presumably striding off towards the lion cages.
Zitao quickly makes his way outside as well, finding Junmyeon alone in the center of the clearing, hunched over two bodies, and he swallows queasily as he takes in the sight of Chanyeol and Minseok lined up next to each other on blood-stained ground. The fire dancer is pale and cold, his face deathly white and his eyes glassy and un-seeing, but the blood seems to come from the two bullet wounds eating into Minseok. The crimson burns into the skin, discoloring the ruined shirt over his chest, and Zitao closes his eyes painfully as he observes the gruesome hole blown into the man’s forehead, blood crusting down the side of the face and clumping in Minseok’s hair.
With a shaky intake of breath, Zitao curls his arms against his torso, rocking slowly on his heels. “I told him to be careful,” he whispers, his words raw against the heavy air. “He must have seen something.”
Junmyeon shifts beside him, finally aware of the younger boy’s presence. He motions helplessly at Minseok’s limp form. “Zitao, he was… he was shot.” He pulls at his hair and steps back, his whole body trembling as he gives Zitao a frantic look.
“I didn’t-I didn’t think any of us c-carried guns...”
Junmyeon’s face is deathly grey and frightened, overwhelmed with both terror and sorrow. He takes a shuddering breath, his throat constricting as he tries to find words. “It... it could be me next. Or you. Or... We could wake up one morning and... another could be gone... or maybe we wouldn’t... w-wake up... w-we’d-”
Zitao shakes his head furiously and puts a hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder. “We can’t think like that, Junmyeon. That’s just what the murderer wants. We have to stay strong, stay calm, so we can figure this out.” He leans down and meets Junmyeon’s eyes, his own expression serious. “Do you understand?”
The ringmaster nods shakily, grasping at Zitao’s hands as his knees give out and he slowly crumples to the ground near Chanyeol’s head. He gives the unmoving form a cautious look, before sighing and gently using his index finger to close the fire dancer’s eyes one last time.
“We... should bury them, at least. Properly.”
And so they do. Junmyeon says he’s too weak to move much, so they bury the two bodies right there in the clearing, using the menial task of digging to occupy their thoughts. Baekhyun and Sehun join them a while later, after the sun is high into the sky, and they silently go to work without a word. Luhan appears towards the end with a couple of drooping flowers, holding them out to Baekhyun with a solemn look on his face. Baekhyun accepts them and crouches down before the two mounds of freshly dug earth, and with a trembling lip, he places them delicately in the centers, quiet tears leaving stains on his cheeks.
They move the camp fire a little towards the left, away from the site of the burial. Without Kyungsoo and now Minseok, no one is quite sure how to make a proper meal, but Luhan tries his best. Even if the soup’s a little watery, no one says anything.
There’s a dreadful silence throughout the meal. A tense rift has developed between the members; Everyone on one side, Jongdae on the other, with Junmyeon awkwardly trying to fill the gap in between. The snake charmer sits still, his narrow eyes following the movements of the others, and Zitao feels the hairs on his neck prickling uncomfortably every time that piercing gaze lands on him. At this point, it almost feels as though Jongdae’s watchful eyes are always on his back, and Zitao loses sense of the feeling, becoming unsure if it’s just Jongdae’s gaze or everyone’s that seems to watch him.
Evidently, the others feel just as uncomfortable, and eventually Luhan snaps and throws his bowl against the ground, glaring angrily across the fire at Jongdae. “I’ve had it with you!” he shrieks, pointing a threatening finger at the other man, “People are dying, and you have the nerve to sit there and evaluate us?! What do you think we are, packaged meat? Deciding who to knock off next?” His voice cracks, and tears are streaming down his face once more as he gets to his feet, pulling Sehun up with him.
“I’m done with this,” he whispers dangerously. The fire crackles ominously in the background, casting angry shadows against Luhan’s face. “We’re leaving.”
Junmyeon starts, giving the older man a worried look. “Leaving?”
“I’m not gonna lie around waiting to be slaughtered.” Luhan snorts almost hysterically and spits in Jongdae’s direction. With a turn of his heel, he marches off towards his tent, dragging a concerned Sehun with him.
Jongdae has his eyes slanted closed, a oddly serene smile on his face. “You can run, but it won’t do you any good,” he says, cracking one lazy eye open as the others around the fire back away from him slowly. “It’s not like the murderer will just let you leave.”
With those last words, he rises to his feet as well and saunters off, his footsteps inaudible against the soft grass.
-
Sleep seems impossible, and the remaining few stay huddled around the fire, afraid to slip into unconsciousness for fear that they wouldn’t wake up the next morning. They keep up well into the night, but the mentally exhausting day is quickly taking its toll on them, and soon Baekhyun is nodding off on Junmyeon’s shoulder, his forehead creased and drawn even in sleep.
Zitao sits quietly next to Kris, drawing designs idly in the dirt. Multiple times, Kris begins to say something, but never gets much further than abruptly cutting himself off when addressing Zitao.
The boy wants to press the matter, but there’s something familiar in the way Kris looks away that wills him to remain silent.
The ringmaster eventually drifts off against Baekhyun as well, and Zitao offers to keep watch, taking note of the deep circles Kris is failing to hide. With a grateful yawn, Kris leans back against the ground, curling his face into the crook of his arm. The rise and fall of his chest soon evens out and Zitao resumes his vigil, staring quietly as the fire slowly dies into glowing embers that twinkle faintly in the darkness that presses in.
-
The lights turn upwards, towards the top of the tent, and the audience catches sight of two platforms mounted high into the air, on opposite sides of the tent. There’s a young man standing on each, the taller one wrapped in glittering light green satin, the other in a pale, rose-colored silk.
Suho’s voice breaks the air once again, his tone light and cheerful. “I do hope you are enjoying the show so far, ladies and gentlemen! For our next performance, we have a very special duo act. Please welcome our finest flying trapeze artists, Sehun and Luhan!” The two on the platforms give a friendly wave as their names are called, and the audience cheers excitedly.
Luhan makes the first move, grasping onto the fly bar with both hands and taking a deep breath in preparation. Across the ring, Sehun gives him an encouraging smile, mouthing out a single sentence. I’ve got you. He gives a short yell, the command for Luhan to begin.
With a rush of air, Luhan leaps from the platform, his legs pulled up to his chest, and after a couple swings to get the momentum up, he lets go of the bar, soaring through the air with a triple layout combination, his arms tight against his sides until the very end as Sehun swoops by, hanging from his knees as he reaches and clasps his hands around Luhan’s wrists.
The audience roars delightedly, but they’re only just beginning. With a powerful swing, Luhan launches from Sehun’s grip, finishing the return by somersaulting through the air and taking hold of his fly bar once more as it brings him back to his platform with an elegant sweep. Sehun does a simple backflip onto the other platform, and the crowd goes wild again, eager for more.
Sehun does the next one, performing a flawless, twisting double. Luhan catches him with his ankles, giving Sehun an extra boost to return, grabbing on to his bar and landing gracefully. They do countless tricks, swinging back and forth: Splits, twists, full turns, half turns, layouts, cutaways, pirouettes. Luhan demonstrates perfect hip circles, both forwards and backwards, wowing the audience as he folds himself over the bar multiple times. Sehun excels at the leaps, throwing himself through the air with twists and curls, each time finding safety in Luhan’s grasp.
Their finale is a combination: They both leave the platforms, mirroring each other with a few graceful pirouettes and a half turn, mounting speed as Luhan lets out a last shout to signal Sehun. The other trapeze artist begins his arc, moving fluidly through the air as he releases into a stunning twisting triple. Luhan circles against his bar, hanging by the knees as he catches Sehun’s hands, swinging him to the platform and landing next to him in a similar fashion. The crowd thunders an applause, stomping their feet and cheering as Sehun and Luhan wrap an arm around each other, breathing heavily and beaming as they bow one last time to the enthusiastic audience.
-
“Kris... Kris, you gotta wake up, I wasn’t-I didn’t realize-” Zitao shakes Kris awake, his eyes wide as he desperately tries to rouse the older man from slumber. Kris blinks at him through a sleepy haze, his brow furrowing at Zitao’s panicked expression. “What...?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I must have dozed off and I didn’t-” He stops himself and shakes his head, giving Kris a fearful look. “They’re dead, Kris. Just like... just like Jongdae said.”
Kris sits up sharply. “Show me.”
Zitao swallows visibly, and he pulls Kris up by the wrist, taking him behind the circle of tents. Just beyond the clearing, they come upon Luhan and Sehun, pale and lifeless as they slump against each other, their weight supported against one of the trees.
Kris inhales sharply and closes his eyes when he catches sight of the ugly blood splatters that cover the tree’s bark and flush against the duo’s ragged clothing.
Zitao hangs his head, mumbling softly to the ground, his toes curling against the grass. “They were... they were trying to escape.”
Kris frowns as he cautiously returns his eyes to the two bodies before him, his gaze narrowed and carefully blank as he evaluates. He motions eventually to the wounds in both of Sehun and Luhan’s chests, large, crusting and inflamed areas that seem to be the source of most of the blood. “It... it was a gun. Like Minseok.” With a grimace, he steels himself and gingerly reaches under Sehun’s arms, pulling the limp form away from the tree. “Come on, I don’t want Junmyeon or Baekhyun to have to see this. They’re both emotional enough already, as it is.”
Zitao nods stiffly and holds his breath, dragging Luhan’s body by the armpits as he follows Kris deeper into the forest, his eyes watering from the nauseating scent of death.
They make haste in burying Luhan and Sehun side by side in a nearby gap in the trees, working quickly and silently in the gloomy morning haze. The sun never shows its face, but the air feels hot and heavy against Zitao’s back, and a grueling hour later he sits down heavily next to the freshly over-turned earth, a solemn look plastered against his face. He wipes his forehead with a dirty hand and pulls his beret off his head, turning it slowly in his hands.
Kris settles down next to Zitao, his head bowed and his back hunched. There are no words at first, only uncomfortable tension, and the sun slowly creeps high in the sky. Neither move from their spots, although Kris shifts anxiously many times, his mouth occasionally opening in a question that never seems to form. The fifth time Kris does this, Zitao winces and finally breaks.
“Kris.”
“Mm?” The older man jolts visibly and looks away, avoiding Zitao’s searching glance.
“Kris, you’ve been hiding something. Why... why can’t you just...” He trails off at Kris’ pained expression, and curls in around himself and trying to ignore the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Kris, I’m serious, why can’t you just tell me, you always-”
His persistence is cut off by a loud shout from the other side of the clearing. The pair jolt as Baekhyun rushes into view, but the careful expression Kris pulls onto his face is enough to let Zitao know he’s been closed away from the conversation.
“Zitao! Kris! Why are you-what-” He pants, his chest heaving from running, and his sentence stops short as he braces himself on his knees. His expression quickly drops in horror as he notices the two mounds of earth, side by side in the clearing, decorated with some shaky pebble designs Kris had tried to add.
Baekhyun turns deathly white, trembling as he cautiously crouches next to Sehun and Luhan’s graves. His voice barely reaches a coarse whisper.
“They... how did... when...”
Kris gets up and pulls Baekhyun away from the clearing, Zitao following close behind as the lion tamer quickly takes Baekhyun back to the tent circle. Junmyeon is pacing nervously around the dead ashes of the fire pit, but his face floods with relief when he sees the trio approaching.
“We were so worried Kris, you have no idea-” Junmyeon runs up to them, his joyous expression terribly short-lived when he takes in the mood pressing on the others. He pulls back, biting his lip as he looks at the three fearfully. “W-what....? Please... no, don’t tell me it was another-” Kris gives him a quiet nod before his sentence makes it out, and the ringmaster lets out a muffled noise, his knees giving way and Kris hastily grips Junmyeon’s arm to steady him, pulling the younger man into an embrace. Baekhyun wraps an arm around Junmyeon’s waist, silently joining the other two.
Zitao feels his heart lurch and he stands a little distance away, giving the others a little space as he tries to deny the empty feeling that threatens to consume him from inside out. He’s terribly reminded of the possibility that maybe, even after all this time, they had never truly accepted him. Perhaps it had all been a ruse. Why else would Kris hide things from him?
Without a word, he leaves the three friends in the clearing, and isn’t surprised when they don’t notice him missing.
-
“Zitao.”
Kris finds him that evening hiding out in their tent, hunched quietly on his cot as he winds his beret repeatedly between his hands. Zitao acknowledges Kris with a small nod, his eyes trained on the floppy fabric in his hands even as Kris slowly sits beside him.
“Zitao, I... I need to tell you something.” Kris’ tone is controlled and even, but Zitao’s ears twitch at the hint of uneasiness behind the older man’s words.
“About time.”
“I...” Kris sighs heavily. “You’re right, I should have... I should have said something earlier. I was an idiot, and-” Wetting his lips nervously, Kris turns his gaze up to the low ceiling of the tent, tapping one foot nervously against the ground.
“Let me just-okay. Zitao, I... well, like you... I used to be a child performer.”
Zitao stares.
“... Okay.”
“No, but-” Kris shakes his head furiously, finally giving Zitao a desperately apologetic look, his eyebrows furrowed anxiously. “Zitao, I’m sorry, I know I really should have said something before, anything, and I tried so many times but-but I couldn’t. I-” He exhales slowly, visibly deflating as he slumps further into the cot. “I was afraid you’d start to... suspect me. Because-”
He doesn’t continue, his mouth set in an uncertain line. Zitao narrows his eyes suspiciously and moves slowly away, positioning himself on the edge of the cot. “Kris. Tell me.”
The lion tamer bites at the inside of his cheek. “You... do you remember the Circus S.M. that... Jongdae... used to mention, like, all the time?”
“... Of course...”
Zitao says nothing more, though his back stiffens against the bed as he grips the metal bars on the sides, his knuckles clenched white, recalling a conversation he had once had. A conversation with an acrobat named Yixing.
Kris only minimally notices Zitao’s discomfort and continues hesitantly.
“Those child performers, Zitao. I was-”
They say there were two bodies missing. Two survivors.
… Two?
“No.”
“... I... what?” Kris falters, blinking with confusion as Zitao gasps and stands up abruptly, slowly backing away from the older man, his face ashen and disturbed with sudden realization. He points one shaky finger towards Kris, his eyes ablaze with an unsettling light. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. There’s no way Yixing could be telling the tru-”
“Zitao, please!” Kris grabs for the boy’s hand, but Zitao yanks it away, snarling as if Kris was suddenly some gruesome stranger he no longer recognized.
“Zitao no, please, just listen, I didn’t tell you because... I couldn’t, Zitao, you... you look so much like him, I didn’t see it at first but you really do, and I couldn’t bring myself to-” He’s cut off as Zitao shoves him forcefully in the chest. Kris topples back precariously against the cot, his expression hurt and lost as Zitao avidly ignores his protests.
“What else are you hiding, Kris? Huh? Got another secret up your sleeve? Or perhaps a knife? A pistol, even?” With a dry smile, Zitao shakes his head and backs away, a new light shining in his eyes as he grabs at the edges of the tent flaps. “I trusted you, Kris, but I should have known. I should have realized.”
“Zitao, wait, you’ve got it wrong-” Kris is yelling after him desperately, but Zitao flees the tent, his blood boiling with turmoil and as he storms off into the inky air of the settling darkness, the trees quickly closing around him.
-
“Zitao!” Baekhyun’s voice floats through the air, and Zitao grimaces, turning reluctantly to acknowledge the shorter man as he rushes forward. The equilibrist pulls up short next to him, his face tired and drawn, a ghost of his once carefree nature, but there’s still a tiny pique of curiosity in the corners of his eyes. “I saw you leave the camp so suddenly... Where are you going, Zitao?”
He forces a smile. “Baekhyun please, I don’t want to-” but Baekhyun isn’t listening, his face instead quickly hardening into a look of fierce determination.
“You’re looking for Jongdae, right? Gonna confront him? Let... let me do it, he’s killed enough of my friends already.” The shorter man’s lip quivers as he says this, creating just a slight tremor in his voice that gives away way his fragile condition and fearful thoughts.
“Baek-” Zitao shakes his head in in exasperation, his mind still reeling from his earlier confrontation. He didn’t have the ability to deal with this right now, and it was becoming apparent that there was no one he could trust. If Kris could keep things from him, who knew what Baekhyun could be hiding? Zitao was losing sight of the way out; Everywhere he turned, the walls pressed in closer.
Baekhyun’s eyes widen in confusion when Zitao meets them with his own unreadable expression. “Z-Zitao...? What-”
There’s just the slightest rustle of movement from the undergrowth behind the two young men.
-
“Please keep your eyes trained to the platforms, for our next act is also high above the ground! Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Byun Baekhyun, an expert of equilibristics. If you look above, you will find the young man already in position to begin.” The crowd looks up at Suho’s urging, their eyes finding Baekhyun, dressed in a rich burgundy uniform trimmed with golden stripes and tassels. Perched precariously on a single tight rope that stretches from one platform to the next, he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by the dangerous height and waves energetically at the people below.
He skips easily across the tightrope, turning lightly on his feet as he reaches one of the platforms. He steadies himself with one deep breath, and then the crowd bursts into cheers as he begins to backflip back along the wire, his movements never faltering as he catapults himself across the taut rope. The applause is deafening when he lands on the opposite side, his grin wide and cheeky as he gives a flourishing bow to his viewers below.
Before he returns to the center of the ring, he pulls a total of seven pins from a small chest placed in a corner of the platform. With a few careful steps, Baekhyun makes his way back along the rope, the pins held in his slender fingers. Once steadied, he throws a one juggling pin into the air, letting it fly high towards the ceiling of the circus tent as he adds a second one, then a third. He soon finds himself juggling all seven in wide arcs, standing on one foot and catching the occasional stray pin with his nose to keep the juggling circle constant. The crowd becomes dizzy just watching.
Baekhyun performs many other tricks. Besides flawless flips and breathtaking twirls, all done on a single line that quivers with each land, he also proves extremely talented in the art of plate spinning and baton twirling, leaving the audience roaring as he throws three batons in complex twists all at once. With a final toss, he manages to do a backflip while the batons soar up, landing in time to catch a baton in each hand, the third caught between his teeth.
Amongst the wild yells of the audience, Baekhyun gives another dramatic bow, scooping an arm under his torso as he stills himself in the center of the rope. The darkened kohl around his eyes casts shadows against his grinning face as the spotlight fades rather suddenly, obscuring Baekhyun from the audience’s sight.
-
Jongdae smiles coldly as he steps delicately over Baekhyun’s limp body, his head tilted slightly as he gazes up at the other’s horrified expression. Zitao takes a shaky step back, his hands curling into fists as the snake charmer presses in closer. “Y-you-” He manages to gasp out, choking on his own words as Jongdae delicately wraps his fingers in the collar of his shirt and yanks him closer. Max and Yunho are slowly winding themselves around his legs, spiraling close and whispering to each other as their master hisses in Zitao’s ear.
“Have you had your fun yet?”
Zitao stands up straighter, one hand finding a place around Jongdae’s throat as he returns Jongdae’s narrow gaze with a piercing glare of his own. “And just what are you up to now, hmm?” His breath ghosts over Jongdae’s face as he gives the snake charmer a cruel quirk of his lips, applying just a miniscule amount of pressure with his thumb against Jongdae’s neck.
The smaller man’s grin doesn’t falter, his eyes lidded and relaxed as he tightens his grip in Zitao’s shirt. “Something I should have done long ago, don’t you think? You’re too clever for your own good, Zitao.” The viper is now sliding quietly over Zitao’s shoulder, its scales rippling quietly against the fabric, but Zitao only freezes when he feels the mangrove snake beginning to wrap itself around his own neck in a painfully slow manner. WIth wide eyes, he snarls angrily and presses harder into Jongdae’s skin, forcing the other’s chin up as his fingers dig just under the jawbone.
“A little late, aren’t you? Do you really think this is going to stop me?” Zitao shakes his head in cold amusement. Jongdae’s breath begins to grow shallow, though his eyes remain bright with defiance. “Don’t be stupid, Jongdae. I’m not afraid of you.”
With his free hand, Zitao claws at the reptile against his throat, flinging it against the tree behind him. The snake falls to the forest floor with a dull thud, and Zitao quickly reaches back and snaps Max’s neck before the other reptile can launch an attack. The viper releases from Zitao’s shoulder, spiraling to the ground beside its lost brother.
“You-” Jongdae stutters, gasping for air as Zitao slams him against a tree, his feet dangling just above the roots. Both of Zitao’s hands find purchase against the man’s neck, his grip relentless even as Jongdae grabs frantically at the fingers closing in on his throat.
“Give up, Jongdae. You never had a chance,” Zitao whispers almost lazily into the crisp air, his stare empty and cold. The snake charmer closes his eyes in pain, his hands still clinging desperately around the other’s wrists even as his body admits defeat. He gives a last shuddering breath, his voice cracking under the strain.
“Yixing, I-”
Zitao growls and slams Jongdae’s head harshly against the tree.
-
The audience perks up in interest as a strange, foreign tune begins to fill the tent, looking eagerly into the darkness for the source of the sound. Suho speaks out softly as a warm light shines down on a small man sitting cross-legged in the center of the ring, clothed in a simple, faded green tunic and sash.
“Snakes, ladies and gentlemen. As I’m sure you know, these reptiles can be highly poisonous, highly dangerous predators. Yet under this man’s gentle tune, they become harmless, willing entertainers and fascinating dancers. Please, give your full attention to Chen, our masterful snake charmer.”
The melody filters slowly into the confines of the tent, its slow, sorrowful notes originating from the delicate flute that Chen holds in his slender grip. The people, enraptured by the calming song that washes over them, gasp collectively in hushed tones as the head of a pale, golden viper peeks out from a small woven basket that is settled in front of the young man. It moves slowly with the music, its head bobbing slightly as it raises further from the confines of the basket.
Soon, a second reptile appears, winding carefully around its companion. The snake’s dark scales contrast with the golden tone of the first, swirling into a pattern as together, the two snakes rise to full height, their heads swiveling towards the sounds that emanate from Chen’s instrument.
Chen opens his eyes slightly, giving the snakes a gentle smile as the music comes to a stop. There’s a beat of silence, and the audience holds its breath as the snakes tilt their heads in question. Their master folds his hands in his lap, his eye contact with the two reptiles never faltering as he parts his lips and begins to sing, the same tune from before now breaking the air softly with unidentifiable syllables that spread to every corner of the room.
At Chen’s voice, the snakes move once more, twisting in endless patterns and circles around each other, molding into a single snake as they dance in sync to Chen’s eerie tune. Entranced, the crowd loses sight of time and space as the quiet melody resounds in their eardrums.
After an eternity, a blink of an eye, Chen’s gentle tune draws to a close, and he closes his eyes and picks up his flute once more, letting the snakes fall slowly back into their basket, the quivering note of the wooden instrument holding itself up in the hushed quiet that falls as the lights dim and fade to nothing.
Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV