Chapter Text
If you stay by my side until the end
You might suffer more and collapse
I did the right thing
- Before U Go – TVXQ
It was during a raid on the home of an infamous mafia boss when Changmin got shot.
He and Yunho had burst through the front of the entrance of the Kim family estate, an elaborate Roman style mansion situated beyond the outskirts of Seoul. Ara was leading men from the back gardens and Sungmin’s men were in charge of gaining access from the roof.
Changmin and Yunho immediately ducked behind the large pillars in the entrance hall as bullets rained down on them from the second floor railing. Changmin got two shots in before he ducked back, hitting one of Kim’s men and causing him to fall over the railing to the floor below. Changmin had counted three men but he easily estimated several more were taking temporary shelter in the rooms. He looked to his left and shot another man in the chest who had come from the side to try to catch him unawares.
Yunho caught his eye before signalling to their team to cover him and Changmin. Changmin ran to the next pillar as their men fired upon their enemy. Their objective was to get to Kim who had locked himself in the drawing room. Yunho took the left staircase and Changmin took the right. He shot two men and fought with three, his taekwondo training kicking in.
They’d made it to the drawing room entrance. Changmin jiggled the door handle. It was locked.
They pressed against each other – back to back – Yunho covering Changmin while Changmin kicked at the door several times. Giving up he pushed back a bit, aimed with his gun and shot at the handle.
“I’m going in,” Changmin told Yunho once he’d busted the lock, but Yunho had gotten distracted by another assailant, using his aikido skills to bring him down.
Kim was indeed in his drawing room. Almost as soon as Changmin had entered Kim shot him twice in the chest. Changmin countered back immediately with two shots of his own, hitting the middle-aged mafia boss, causing him to fall back against his desk with a shout then crumple to the floor.
Then Changmin belatedly felt the burning, stinging pain rendering itself upon the skin of his chest. He fell to his knees and tried to rip off his bullet-proof vest with shaking hands.
Yunho burst in half a minute later looking hard-eyed and fierce, saw Changmin curling in on himself and went straight over and grabbed him.
“Are you ok?” Yunho gasped out in panic, breath hot against Changmin’s cheek and his hands tight on his shoulders. “Changmin, speak to me.”
“I’m fine,” Changmin told him lowly, hating how his voice shook. The buckle on his vest just wouldn’t come off. “You should check the body – “
But Yunho didn’t need to because Sungmin burst in then, took in the situation and went to Kim’s crumpled body and checked for a pulse. Then he looked at his watch and announced the time of death.
Yunho still had a death grip on his shoulders and a part of Changmin wanted to lean his head on Yunho’s chest or hold him back, but instead he got to his feet as gracefully as he could. Yunho’s fingers lingered before finally letting go.
“I got shot twice,” Changmin told him. “I think the bullets pierced through.”
“Changmin -” Yunho begin in quiet fear, but then his radio went off.
“U-Know do you copy?” Ara’s voice sounded over the device.
Yunho detached it from his belt and held it close to his mouth. “Go ahead,” he replied.
“The basement – it’s – you should come see this.”
Yunho threw Changmin a look and Changmin rolled his eyes in impatience. I’m fine, the look said.
“I’ll escort agent Max out,” Sungmin offered.
Sungmin had dropped him off at the hospital before returning to the Kim residence to help with damage control.
The two bullets had pierced through but there was no lasting damage and the vest had protected him. The doctor had had to extract material from the small burn wounds. Changmin had been fortunate.
The nurse was about to plaster and bandage him when Yunho arrived looking sweaty, exhausted yet bright-eyed with lingering, fearful emotion. Yunho was both the first person and the last person Changmin wanted to see in that moment – first because he was coming down from the adrenaline rush and was feeling lonely and vulnerable, and last because he was embarrassed at the fact that his split-second actions may have lost them their mission. Their objective had been to bring the big boss in for questioning and long jail time, but not only had Changmin managed to kill him he’d gotten shot himself.
But then Yunho came over to his bedside, leaned over him and gently touched the skin near the delicate edges of the small wounds. As soon as fingers touched skin Yunho visibly relaxed in relief and Changmin felt his own muscles uncoil from being so tense.
On the nurse’s command Yunho moved away slightly and Changmin leaned forward where he sat on the bed, so the nurse could plaster and wrap him.
Yunho grinned at Changmin suddenly, smile lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes. “They’re going to leave some nice battle scars,” Yunho told him, nodding. “Scars are sexy.”
Changmin scowled; he didn’t want scars, especially not on his chest which was, he thought privately, one of his best assets.
He swallowed and looked down at his hands. “So catch me up,” he requested softly.
When he looked back up through his lashes Yunho was shaking his head. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and navigated through the screen menu with his thumb. “Let’s record your statement first, then I’ll fill you in on the way home.”
Changmin looked at his watch. It was almost three a.m. He couldn’t argue; Yunho was always diligent with reporting and the later they left it the greater the risk of details slipping from memory.
Yunho held his phone out for recording and Changmin verbally gave his statement.
*
The aftermath of the raid meant paperwork, questioning, CSI and lab reports, analysis, reenactments, and more paperwork. The warrant for the house search hadn’t just been to take Kim in; they’d gained intelligence that the new drug known as ‘ascend’ had been managed and imported by Kim’s men. At first they’d thought it had come from China; and while its less potent cousin known as ‘purple line’ had in fact migrated from there it seemed ascend could be traced back to the US.
They were hoping to find large quantities of ascend in Kim’s estate. While they’d found several vials of the liquid drug what they hadn’t banked on was what Ara’s team had found in the basement.
Five young women had been kept in locked cages.
Ara had told Changmin later that when Yunho had found out Kim was keeping girls in his basement he had flipped, punching the wall in his rage. “He sometimes gets out of control when you’re not around to tell him off,” she had told Changmin with a small titter. Yunho and Ara had assumed the worst: that the girls were being prepared for the sex slavery trade. But after taking them in to NDI and questioning them, it was reported that they were to be used for ascend drug testing.
*
For Changmin, the end of a long week couldn’t have come sooner.
Saturday morning, and he knew they’d have to go into the office; regardless, he allowed himself a few more minutes of lying in bed, enjoying the warmth of his blankets and trying to mentally grasp at the lingering half-dreams. He dreamt of smooth brown skin, a man’s broad naked chest, the soft skin over the hard muscle of an inner thigh, the smell of sweat, the taste of kissing. He lay on his back and pressed his hand between his body and the sheets to palm himself. He imagined lying between a faceless man’s legs and teasing his entrance with the head of his cock. Sometimes the man in his half-dreams remained faceless.
Sometimes it was Yunho.
It had taken years of soul searching but Changmin had long since admitted his feelings for Yunho to himself. He’d managed a routine of dealing with them too: at work they were partners, at home they were housemates, outside they were best friends, and when Changmin was completely alone in his own room only then could he think about it – only then could he let himself go – and admit that he was in love.
Yunho and Changmin had met as trainees at the police academy – Changmin had been a trainee for a year before Yunho was transferred in from Gwanju.
At first Yunho had been an absolute ass and Changmin had acted the spoilt rich kid and they hadn’t really liked each other. After they were thrown into the same team together they finally started to get along. Ara and Jongwoo had been put with them too.
The early academy days had been glorious but sooner or later love and jealousy had crept in insidiously. Changmin would glance at Jongwoo and see his gaze linger on Ara. Then he’d look at Ara and see her eyes linger on Yunho.
Then Changmin would look at Yunho and with a breaking heart see his eyes affectionately rest on her. And there was a dark time when Changmin would go back to the dorm exhausted and alone, press his face to his pillow and scream into it as loud as he could.
But then graduation rolled around and Jongwoo seemed over his crush, Yunho and Ara were an official item and Changmin was Yunho’s best friend. Changmin had had boyfriends since but then they’d embarrass him by calling him ‘gorgeous’ and become clingy and Changmin decided he’d never be very good at keeping lovers anyway.
Now here he was, touching himself with private thoughts of Yunho while said friend was probably pattering around the kitchen making brunch just beyond the bedroom door. In their mid-twenties and still living together – Changmin didn’t really know what that meant, but it made car pooling convenient at least. They even lived above the car business they owned together, though it was Yunho’s passion, Changmin was just an investor.
Fifteen minutes later he came out of his room and headed to the kitchen. On the way his fingers and eyes lingered on the samurai katana display in the hall. The long, beautiful weapon was on its horizontal stand, its blade sheathed in its polished maroon casing. Changmin knew that beneath that sheath lay a sharp, steel wrought blade, its hand-crafted hilt a thing of beauty with its intricate dragon design.
Even though Changmin tried to creep into the kitchen as quietly as possible Yunho sensed him immediately and spun around from the bench. “Hungry?” Yunho demanded, already going to the rice cooker to serve Changmin breakfast. “I’ve made rice porridge.”
“Starving,” Changmin answered, voice gruff. He cleared his throat and quashed his guilt. Private time was over as soon as he had left his bedroom; now, they were housemates slash best friends and Changmin’s true feelings were to be locked away in a safe hidden in the back of his mind.
Changmin gingerly sat at the kitchen table and Yunho placed a bowl of food front of him. Changmin tucked in straight away. He was so preoccupied he hadn’t noticed Yunho kneeling on the ground next to him until he had touched the hem Changmin’s t-shirt to pull it up.
“Hyung!” Changmin exclaimed in protest, mouth half-full of porridge. “It’s been a week; they don’t need redressing anymore.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Yunho dismissed. “Lift up your arms.”
“I thought you wanted me to eat breakfast,” Changmin grumbled quietly, but he dropped his spoon on the table and pushed away from it slightly, allowing for Yunho to lift off his shirt and unclip the bandages that were wrapped around Changmin’s chest.
The bandages unravelled and pulled gently away. Changmin watched Yunho’s gentle hands and pate, his hair dark and soft and catching the light. Yunho carefully touched the skin around Changmin’s healing wounds, his head dipped so close Changmin could feel his warm breath on his skin. Changmin swallowed and squirmed.
“Do they still hurt?” Yunho asked quietly, the question a whoosh of air against Changmin’s bare chest.
Changmin mumbled.
Yunho looked up at him. “Pardon?”
“I said, ‘No, they don’t hurt.’”
It’s not pain that Changmin was afraid of, it was Yunho’s disgust, not that he’d ever seen it directed onto himself. The wounds were healing and they weren’t infected, but they were technically small burns and had well and truly begun to blister.
They were ugly, and Changmin did not want Yunho to see them.
He turned his body away, curling in on himself, feeling naked and exposed. “I’m hungry,” he told Yunho, by way of excuse, and Yunho gave him a small smile and straightened, conceding defeat.
Later at the office Changmin sat in his desk and flicked through the screens on his computer: Kim Hyunki and Kim Sokjun. Both middle-aged, both brothers, both in it for the drug money.
One of them dead.
Saturday and the office was quiet save for the occasional agent and cleric working silently or quietly walking through the cement-and-glass space that was their headquarters. Yunho was checking something in the evidence lockers.
Screen One: The heavy, pock-marked face of Kim Hyukjae. Deceased. Screen Two: the more handsome, distinguished face of Kim Sokjun. No doubt already taken over his brother’s place as king pin. His son Jaejoong was Yunho’s age.
Changmin stared at the first screen.
“Hey,” came Yunho’s soft voice, followed by gentle hands landing upon Changmin’s shoulders. Changmin hadn’t even heard him come into the room.
Changmin said nothing, only turned his head slightly to the side to show Yunho he had his attention. Yunho massaged his shoulders gently before leaning forward, hugging him from behind. He whispered into Changmin’s ear, “It’s ok.”
Changmin closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.
“He was a bad guy,” Yunho went on. Changmin had already heard this. “If anyone deserved to die – “
“No one deserves it,” Changmin interrupted.
There was a pause, then Yunho withdrew his arms and sat in the chair next to Changmin. Changmin finally looked at him, side-along. Yunho took one of Changmin’s hands in two of his. “Do you remember when Jongwoo tried to kill you?”
Stupid question; of course Changmin remembered. Having one of his best friends point a gun right in his face certainly constituted as memorable. Yunho caught Changmin’s gaze and held it, eyes severe with a kind of possessiveness.
“When I found out I could not drive fast enough,” Yunho explained, voice pitched low with fierce passion. “I drove that jeep right into the side of the building. I shot several men that night in my quest to save you, Changmin – “
Changmin swallowed.
“Four men died.” He grabbed onto Changmin’s shoulder, hard, fingers squeezing. “Do you think I regret it?”
“No, you don’t regret it,” Changmin told him, because that was what he knew the truth to be.
Yunho nodded. “That’s right. I know you feel bad about shooting someone; but please Changmin, please, at least for me – “ He glanced at the computer screen and back to Changmin. “Don’t mourn this mother-fucker. Don’t waste that energy.”
Changmin nodded, understanding. “Alright, hyung.”
“Am I interrupting something?” said Heechul from the doorway. The older man was glancing between them, before his eyes lingered on the hand that was still on Changmin’s shoulder, and then their joined hands close to their laps.
Yunho pulled away. “Nope. Come in hyung; fill us in.”
Heechul seemed tired and exasperated as he came into the room and leaned one hip on their desk. “I already emailed you my report, it’s very detailed.”
Yunho leaned back in his seat lazily and gave Heechul one of his cheeky half-smiles, a flash of pointed canine. “Oh yes, detailed. I’m sure it’s chock full of chemistry jargon goodness.”
Heechul threw Yunho a sarcastic smile. He blinked several times as if trying hard not to roll his eyes.
“We’re going to need a summary in laymen’s terms, I’m afraid,” Yunho continued, “then we’ll happily eat up your report. So. Ascend. What is it and what does it do?”
Heechul crossed his arms and rattled off information. “It’s a drug, meant to be administered via syringe straight into the vein. Effects include heightened hearing and increase in adrenaline, increase in strength or rather, an increase in your body being tricked into believing it’s stronger. Numbing. Wider peripheral vision. And above all, aggression.”
“Aggression?” said Changmin. He and Yunho exchanged glances. “That doesn’t sound like a very enjoyable recreational drug.”
Heechul nodded. “If anything purple line is a much better street selling drug – less aggression and heightened senses, more trippy.”
“So ascend…” began Yunho. “Not a great suggestion for, say, a date rape drug?”
“Not unless you want your rape victim to turn around and punch you in the face,” said Heechul with a raise of one eyebrow. “But it is addictive so you could sell it to junkies, I guess.”
“Then why use girls to experiment?” asked Changmin quietly, mostly talking to himself. He looked at Heechul. “Does it heighten libido?”
Heechul’s lips pressed into a flat line. “Nope.” He looked at Yunho then back at Changmin again, hands on his hips. “Any other questions? ‘Cause it’s Saturday and I have a date with Skyrim.”
Yunho waved him off, still frowning in thought. “See you on Monday, hyung. I’ll call you if I have any more questions.”
Heechul left with a mutter under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Damn workaholics,” and Changmin looked at Yunho, took in the curve of his frown and the thoughtful flicker of his eyes.
Then as if a light had been switched on he suddenly brightened and grinned at Changmin. “What time is it?”
Changmin blinked, then checked his watch. “Seven-o-four,” he answered.
“Great,” said Yunho as he stood up. “I’ve made dinner reservations. We can discuss this later.”
“Alright,” mumbled Changmin, standing up himself though with much less enthusiasm. No doubt Yunho had made dinner plans with his long-term girlfriend and colleague Ara, and Changmin would once again be at home alone, cooking dinner for one.
Sometimes the introvert in Changmin would welcome the time alone to enjoy the peace and quiet of an apartment all to himself.
And then other times he’d feel the pang of jealousy, knowing that while he was sitting alone at home watching television that out there Yunho and Ara were enjoying each other. Such was the life of a homosexual and his constant companion: unrequited love.
“It’s at Valentino’s,” Yunho threw over his shoulder as he was striding from the room.
“Right, okay,” said Changmin, wondering why Yunho was even telling him this. Valentino’s was expensive and high class, the kind of place you needed to book well in advance. Even so, it wasn’t like Yunho to show off.
“We haven’t been there yet, have we?” Yunho asked casually as they entered the elevator. “Not together, I mean. You’ll love it. They’ve redone the place.”
“Wait a minute,” said Changmin as the elevator doors dinged closed. He looked at his hyung. “I’m coming with you?”
Yunho looked back with some alarm. “Yes? Oh sorry.” He cleared his throat loudly. “Changdol, would you have the honour of dining with me tonight?”
Changmin stared, at the sincere and indulgent look in Yunho’s eyes and the sweet curve of his small smile. Then Changmin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
Yunho chortled as the elevator stopped and the doors dinged open. “I’m going to call you that whenever we’re alone,” Yunho confessed as they exited the elevator into the car park. “That or Changminnie.”
“I’m not really good with being the third wheel, you know that,” Changmin reminded him, trying to steer the conversation back to practical matters. They arrived at their car and got in, Changmin in the passenger seat as it was Yunho’s turn to drive. “I don’t want to come.”
“And what, leave me to dine on my own?” Yunho snorted with faux offence as he started the engine and backed out.
Changmin side-eyed him, but Yunho was too busy driving and didn’t notice. “Ara’s not coming?”
“Nope,” said Yunho, throwing Changmin a rapid smile, “just you and me.”
A man with jet black hair and tanned skin waited at the restaurant bar. He fingered his non-alcoholic cocktail absently and waited, biding his time. He glanced to the side at the restaurant floor. From this vantage point he could not see all the guests – an unfortunate circumstance – there was a designer wall in the way. But he could see his target and that was enough for now.
His target was a man in his late forties. His long, sly face calculative while his wife and children sat with him at the table, as well-mannered and beautiful as well trained pedigree dogs.
He took a sip of his mocktail and savoured the sweet flavours: barley, mint, lime, lemonade. Ice. A thirst quencher.
His name was Jongin.
Earlier that day Jongin had been in his own hidden apartment, an architectural beauty of modern white and old wood design. He tapped open a hidden door in the wall and went through to the long corridor beyond.
He dragged his fingers along the wall, calm, head tilted. The lyrics of his silent song went like this: Who am I to kill today? Who am I to kill today?
He checked the wall every day despite the fact that his handler didn’t leave targets for him as often as that. But this was his job, and as he pulled down the first photo from the cork board, he knew the answer to his silent song.
So here he was, at the restaurant bar.
This was his target’s habits:
Eat. Drink. Talk with family. Once his main meal was finished, he always, always went outside to smoke.
The man at the bar waited, and bided his time.
*
“Are you buying?” asked Changmin curtly as he perused his menu.
“Of course, I am your hyung,” said Yunho indulgently as his eyes flicked over his own menu. “I think I’ll have the chicken.”
“If you’re buying I’m having the lobster,” Changmin decided, snapping the menu shut with one hand. The European-style restaurant was fully booked tonight, the room full of tables and people. Over near the windows a woman sung a sad love song while the pianist accompanied her on the grand piano. Changmin watched her sing a moment before turning back around in his seat.
He looked at Yunho a moment before glancing away. “This is nice,” said Changmin quietly.
Yunho blinked at him, then looked around the room. “It is a very nice restaurant. I like what they’ve done with this.” He pointed with his chin at the artistic decorative wall that separated them from the bar.
Changmin barely spared it a glance. “No I mean – “ He exhaled and looked down at the table cloth. “I mean, having dinner together, just the two of us.”
“Oh,” said Yunho, and Changmin looked up into his eyes. “Well. We eat dinner together at home all the time. But I suppose this is different.”
Changmin twisted his mouth as he tried not to smile. “Different?”
“Good evening,” interrupted the waiter. Changmin hadn’t even noticed his approach. “Would you like to hear the specials for tonight?”
Fifteen minutes later and they were enjoying their entrées and wine. Changmin took a sip of his and lifted his eyes to Yunho’s over the rim.
Yunho smiled at him before his eyes slipped away to someone over his shoulder. Perturbed, Changmin turned in his seat and looked in the direction Yunho had. At first he thought perhaps he’d been watching the singer – but then he caught sight of someone familiar.
There was a middle aged man sitting with his wife and two young daughters. His name was Choi Junghwa, Changmin remembered him from the police files he’d been reading that day.
Changmin turned back to Yunho, expression hard. “This is why you invited me to dinner?” said Changmin, his anger and disappointment slipping through with his words. “We’reworking?”
Yunho blinked at Changmin as if he hadn’t expected Changmin’s irate response – and well, if Changmin thought about it, perhaps he truly hadn’t. Then Yunho’s lips turned upwards in a proud smile. “So you recognise him, then?” he asked.
“You – “ Changmin broke off. “Yes, it’s Choi Junghwa, Kim Sokjun’s right hand man.” He side-eyed Yunho. “I wasn’t aware we were doing surveillance tonight.”
Yunho played with his fork. “We’re not.” He smirked. “He’s an informant.”
Changmin stared at Yunho. Junghwa, the right hand man of the now-leader of the Kim family mafia, an informant. “Jesus,” whispered Changmin, “how did you manage that?”
“The boys in blue arrested him for some small offences and Ara stepped in, offered him lenience. He was more than willing to spill the beans on his boss.”
“You think? But why - ?”
Yunho gave him a sharp look as if to say, You know why, just think about it.
“I killed the first brother,” Changmin whispered slowly, “the second brother takes over. If he falls, his son, Jaejoong, is next in line…”
“Yes, and Jaejoong is considered a loose canon…”
“An easy enough leader for Junghwa to manipulate,” Changmin finished, nodding, looking over his shoulder once again at the long-faced man, who was neatly carving off a small piece of his steak. Changmin turned back around, eyes flicking over Yunho before moving to his glass of sauvignon blanc. He fingered it before picking it up and taking a large sip. Pride in Yunho dissipated to make way for disappointment once again and he eyed Yunho from under his lashes as his hyung ate another piece of the entrée.
Oh hell, what was he supposed to think?
How could he allow himself to think that – what, that Yunho was taking Changmin on some kind of date? Yunho was straight, had a long term girlfriend in fact, and none of that was about to change any time soon.
He abruptly stood up. “Going to the bathroom,” he mumbled, turning away. Yunho grabbed his wrist, halting him.
“Changmin,” he said, looking up into Changmin’s eyes. A pause, then: “On the way back could you pick up the small napkin on his table?” His eyes flicked to Junghwa and back again. “That’s how he’ll leave us information.”
“Yeah, ok,” said Changmin, trying not to think of how warm Yunho’s fingers were curled gently against his skin. Then he let go, and Changmin was walking away, the imprint of his touch lingering.
He hardly knew how he’d walked to the men’s bathroom – the room seemed to blur and tilt around him, his thoughts curled together with his emotions to make him confused, angry… and heartbroken. I’ve had enough, said one thought as he strode past tables, heading to the corridor where the men’s was situated.
He shoved open the door and entered, going straight to the sink. He blasted on the cold water, cupped his hands under the icy stream and splashed his face. He felt irrational and confused, yet still mindful not to get his suit or hair wet. He shut off the flow, kept his eyes to the bowl, blinking back the tears and the water.
He had been in love with Yunho for years - years… It came and went like the seasons and he couldn’t stop the flow of feelings when they hit. But tonight he decided that once and for all, this would be the end. It would.
He dared himself to look in the mirror.
He couldn’t.
*
The barmaid was neat, tidy and non-distinct in every way. She took away Jongin’s empty glass. “How was your meal tonight, sir?”
Jongin hadn’t had a meal. His gaze sharpened on her. “Like going to Heaven for the climate and Hell for the company,” he replied, which, in general conversation would have made no sense, but to them it made every sense in the world.
Her expression barely changed as she slipped a key over the counter. He covered his hand over hers and took it, slipping it across the counter top and tucking it into his trouser pocket.
Jongin didn’t know her name and in the end it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Always keep the faith,” she said.
He slipped from the bar stool and strode calmly to the main restaurant floor, making sure to pass his target’s table as he did so, noting that he’d almost finished his steak and wine. Jongin went to the men’s bathroom and slipped in quietly, hoping no one was in –
There was one man, at the sink, head bowed. Jongin immediately registered his height, medium to broad shoulders, expensive suit, polished shoes, lean, slim waist and hips. And – when the man looked up and caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror – beautiful brown eyes, large nose and mouth.
The man exhaled shakily through wet lips then flicked his eyes away, red starting to form on his cheeks from embarrassment. It was a shock for Jongin to see such a young face; the kind of stunning youthful beauty only twenty-something year olds possessed.
Jongin put his hand in his pocket and played with the hard, cold key hidden there. “Are you alright?” he asked with sincerity.
“Fine,” said the man immediately, then added, “No, not really fine.” His voice was soft, lyrical and smooth, the kind of voice Jongin would like to hear in the bedroom, words like silk over his naked skin.
He grasped the key hard till the metal dug painfully into his palm.
The man reached for a folded towel next to the basin with a shaking hand. He patted his face dry carefully. A man aware of his good looks and careful about them, then. Jongin could imagine he’d have all different kinds of expensive moisturisers at home, all lined up neatly on an immaculately clean bathroom bench.
“Do you ever – “ He stopped, took another shaky breath and looked at Jongin once again through the mirror, the eyes of their reflections catching and holding. “Do you ever feel like you’ve wasted your whole life on something that will never come?”
“No,” said Jongin.
That got his attention. He man turned from his position at the sink to face Jongin properly and – Jongin noted with a suddenly dry mouth – he was truly stunning. Fierce wide eyes, defined chest and the longest legs Jongin had ever seen. One well manicured hand placed on the bench while the other rested casually against a thigh.
But there was a kind of dangerousness about him that set Jongin on edge. A businessman, maybe, or the son of one.
Or a cop.
Regardless Jongin wanted to keep him here, keep them talking, perhaps get to know him better. They could talk about life problems, about family, philosophy, anything, Jongin didn’t mind what. He rarely got to talk to the general public – in fact he could not remember the last time he had – the girl at the bar hardly counted, she was one of Sehun’s girls. A feeling of loneliness shot through him just as memories of nights alone in his clinically-white bedroom flashed through his mind, and then the man started talking just as Jongin opened his mouth –
“Sorry to bother you,” said the man, bowing, before pushing off the bench and slipping past Jongin.
Then he was opening the door and going through it.
Jongin looked back.
The man did not.
There was no doubt that, in one minute’s time the man would forget Jongin had even existed. That bloke in a bathroom, he would think, asked if I was alright. I said I was, then I got the hell out of there. Didn’t want to bother him with my problems, it’s bad manners, I have good manners and anyway I can’t even remember his face.
He won’t remember me, Jongin thought. But I’ll remember him.
Then Jongin shook it off before heading to the sink to splash his hair and slick it back. It was probably a stupid idiosyncrasy – but Jongin liked having assassin hair. When he was a ‘normal’ person he had his jet black hair falling in soft locks over his forehead and one eye; but when he was about to do a job it was slicked back and badass. One of those little amusements he allowed himself.
There was a locked store room in the men’s toilet. He went to it and slipped in the key before turning the lock.
There were no cleaning tools or products inside. Instead there lay a gun, a silencer attachment and a bullet cartridge and a pair of what appeared to be sunglasses. None of them were in their cases. Jongin was to take it all and leave nothing behind as evidence.
He picked up the gun first. Light weight modern handgun, something Sehun would have taken good care of, polished with love and handed over for this mission with the reluctance of a mother handing her child over for babysitting. He took the cylinder-shaped silencer and screwed it onto the barrel, swift and tight. He checked the cartridge for bullets – full – good – and clicked it in. The gun was shoved half-way into his trousers, allowing for his shirt to be pulled out and cover it along with his jacket.
The sunglasses were not sunglasses – quite the opposite. They looked like sunglasses but allowed for Jongin to see in almost-darkness. He slid them on, face hard, pulled up the collar of his jacket and ran his hands through his hair one more time before closing the cupboard, leaving the key in the lock, and turning and leaving the bathroom.
Back in the corridor he stayed in the shadow of the wall the dimmed lights did not reach and surveyed the restaurant floor. His target had finished his meal. It was obvious he was getting fidgety and antsy for that evening smoke, the wife taking no notice as she doted on the children. To their left the man Jongin had spoken to in the bathroom was just sitting down at his dinner table, seeming composed yet aloof now, passing his companion a napkin…
Jongin’s eyes followed Junghwa as the man stood from his chair, smoothed down his clothes and walked across the room towards the corridor Jongin was lurking in. The back door at the end was the back car park exit – the place Junghwa was heading for. Jongin curled in on himself, keeping his face averted as his target passed him. A little trick he had learnt growing up in a family full of criminals: to make himself smaller so as to be unnoticed. To be able to become invisible was a skill coveted by his kind.
Two seconds after Junghwa pushed through the exit door Jongin followed, gaze sharp and stride purposeful, hand on his gun under his shirt. He pushed open the door to the night air, inhaled through his nose and asked Junghwa, who as standing not too far off, bowed as he tried to light his cigarette –
“Got a light?”
Junghwa turned his head, the dim glow of the one back entrance light showing his drawn grimace, teeth bared in a snarl, harsh words about to be spat out at Jongin –
Jongin lifted his gun –
The widening of his target’s eyes –
Jongin shot him in the neck, the whizz of the bullet from the silencer piercing the silence with its high-pitched sound, blood blooming out from the side of the man’s throat like a fast-growing red rose, a beautiful colour in comparison with the grey and brown of the alley and of their own attire. Jongin liked to shoot them in the larynx first to prevent the screams.
Junghwa stumbled before falling, his body convulsing as it tried desperately not to die. There was every possibility that he wouldn’t – it took a lot to kill a human being. So Jongin walked over, stood over him and shot him in the heart.
*
Changmin stood from the table with a sigh, throwing his napkin down. Yunho’s eyes widened. “I can go – “
“It’s alright,” Changmin bit out, “I’ll go. Hope our mains are on their way,” he added with a mutter as he pushed in his chair and turned towards the back exit.
He pushed through the exit door and was met with the sight of a man pointing a gun down at a prone body, the blood oozing onto the asphalt and glittering as it caught the light.
A half-second of stunned silence as Changmin inhaled sharply, then, “Freeze! Police!” he shouted before the assailant shot off running without hesitation.
Changmin spat out a curse as he shot off after him, feet slapping on the asphalt of the almost-empty car park, body pumping as he forced it into sudden action. The little fucker in black was fast – and he hadn’t seen his face – he hoped he caught him, though at this rate –
He pushed himself faster even as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone. “U-Know!” he barked at it, hoping the voice-recognition worked for once.
Yunho picked up immediately.
Changmin shouted, “Choi’s dead, in pursuit of offender along – “ He breathed harshly and caught a sign and barked its name down the line.
“I’m on it,” said Yunho before hanging up, and Changmin pumped his run harder. The offender was several metres in front, the ends of his jacket flapping in the wind. He seemed in no state to be slowing down, in fact his speed increased, and Changmin chased him down one street and then another, his thighs burning with the effort, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Changmin kept his eye on him, his concentration pulled tight onto his target. What Changmin did notice was the man was still holding tight to his weapon.
Another corner, and another, and Changmin heard the distant wail of police sirens – but it was too late. The man had gotten too far ahead of him, and he rounded a corner in a wealthier housing area. And then Changmin turned that corner and slowed his run to a trot, then stopped.
The man was gone.
Changmin breathed harshly in the frigid night air and barked out a curse word. He wanted to rest his hands on his knees but he resisted, and panted up at the black sky in exasperation instead. He looked up and down the street, but the houses were tall and dark and mostly hidden by large hedges that ran along the street.
Jongin willed his breathing to quieten as he crouched on a second floor balcony. The house he had made his temporary refuge appeared currently unoccupied, its windows dark, and hidden in the shadows Jongin watched as his pursuer rounded the street corner and slowed to a stop just outside the hedges. He got a good view of his face in the streetlight glow: the too-wide eyes moving over the street, the flash of teeth shown through his angry grimace, the fall of soft hair…
It was, of course, the man from the bathroom, and even in his exhausted, agitated state he appeared so beautiful with his dark suit, slim figure, bright eyes, cheekbones that cut through the light like knives.
Then with a graceful turn the man walked away, back the way he had come.
In the distance sirens wailed and Jongin knew he could not stay. He slipped his phone from his pocket with the hand that wasn’t still clenched around his gun and phoned for Sehun to pick him up.
*
Changmin stood with Yunho at the edge of the crime scene. He’d relayed all the information he could to Ara and the rest of the team – now all he could do for the next few minutes was wait for the full CSI suit-clad team to relay some information.
Finally Leeteuk came over, pulling away his mask as he did so. “Shot thrice – twice in the throat, and once in the chest – one of the neck shots hit an artery; the other hit the larynx. The chest shot was straight to the heart.”
Yunho and Changmin exchanged glances.
Leeteuk gestured them over to the body, asking them to be mindful of where they stepped. Yunho pointed at a once-lit cigarette Yuri was bagging for evidence. “So he really was just coming out here for a leisurely after-dinner smoke,” Yunho murmured.
“He didn’t know what was coming for him,” agreed Changmin. He threw Yunho a half-knowing, half-questioning glance. “Neither did we. But the nature of it – “
Yunho nodded. “Bullet to the throat to prevent the victim from screaming, then the fatal bullet to the heart. It’s very precise, and thorough.”
Changmin caught his eye. “And signature.” Changmin saw Yunho’s mouth twist with uncertainty, so he pushed on. “This was a paid job by a hitman. The hitman: the Unbreakable.”
“We can’t rule out the possibility of copycats or coincidences,” said Yunho, “but yes, I agree.” He frowned, eyes sliding back and forth. He was thinking, and worrying. “They knew.” He looked at Changmin with wide eyes. “They knew Choi was leaking intel to us.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” Changmin reassured, “perhaps they suspected him of blabbing to police, or perhaps they went for him for another reason. You’re also assuming it’s the Kims who hired someone to off him in the first place. It could have been a rival…” Changmin trailed off. Yunho was looking distracted, a hand in one of his pockets and fiddling with what was held there.
“Luckily,” he said, voice pitched low for only Changmin to hear, “he gave me what we need before they got to him.”
To be continued.