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On Monday, Sangwoo brings him flowers.
(what kind of flowers?)
(marigolds.)
(why marigolds?)
(they symbolize pain.)
Yoonbum smiles when he accepts the small bouquet, rolls his chair over to the counter to push himself up and reach into the cabinet where is sure he has seen a china vase at some point.
“Here, let me,” Sangwoo says from behind him, reaching across his shoulder to grab the vase himself. He is far taller than Bum but when he leans in his breath is warm on the back of Bum's neck.
A shiver trickles down Bum's spine like warm honey.
The marigolds stay on the dinner table for little over a week. The flower heads still look alright, but the stems are wholly rotted through. Eventually, Yoonbum has to throw them out to get rid of the stench.
(did he bring you a lot of presents?)
(yes.)
(did you like them?)
(not always.)
(why not?)
(sometimes they hurt.)
(hurt how?)
(...)
(hurt how, Yoonbum?)
The girl is half-naked and quivering. It might be because of the cold radiating off the bare concrete floor, or because of something else.
“She tried to kiss me, Bum,” Sangwoo tells him. His voice seems to echo off the narrow walls, until there is a cacophony surrounding Bum, closing in on him.
“She tried to kiss me. Don't you want to make her pay for it?”
“She didn't know,” Bum says. The knife is shaking in his hands. He tries to still himself but the tremor seems to be coming from something deeper than his bones. “She didn't know about us.”
“Us?” Sangwoo asks. His smile is leery. “What is there to know about us?”
Bum swallows.
“She didn't know I already belonged to you.”
It's a leap of faith. Less of a gut instinct and more like that uncanny urge to jump off a high place.
Sangwoo's head tilts to the side, childlike curiosity.
“Only I can be with you,” Bum reminds him, “No one else understands you.”
Sangwoo hums, a low little noise at the back of his throat.
“Don't you want to punish her?” he asks, “Cut out her eyes or her tongue?”
On the floor, the girl whimpers.
“She didn't know any better,” Bum repeats, “She was just foolish and drunk.”
“Then what should we do with her, Bum?” Sangwoo asks, “We can't let her go. She's going to tell the police and then they are going to take you away from me.”
Bum closes his eyes. No one but Bum had ever left this basement alive. The girl was dead the moment she laid eyes one Sangwoo. All that was left now was to not make it last long.
His grip on the knife steadies.
“Yes,” Sangwoo says and that one word gently nudges Yoonbum forward.
(was that the first time he involved you in his killings?)
(no.)
(who else was there?)
(an older man he met at a gay bar. and the girl.)
(ji eun.)
(yes.)
(what was different about them? why did he make you join in?)
(he wanted to kill a man since he hadn't killed me. and he killed ji eun because she had a crush on him.)
(the coroner's report said ji eun had sex before she died but that there was no evidence for rape.)
(because he wanted to punish me.)
(punish you how?)
(he put me in the closet and then made me watch.)
(did ji eun know you were there?)
(only later.)
(how did she react?)
(she got angry. she thought i was a voyeur and that i did it on purpose.)
(and then?)
(then he made me kill her.)
Sangwoo likes to have sex next to the corpses when the blood is still warm and the eyes not quite glazed over. He likes when it feels as though someone were watching them.
Rigor mortis only sets in after a couple of hours but his cock is hard as he fucks into Yoonbum from behind.
Bum's knees are rubbed raw but it's better this way because he at least can close his eyes and pretend to be somewhere else.
(when did he first force you to perform sexual acts on him?)
(…)
(it's all right if you do not want to talk about it.)
(he didn't...)
(he did not engage you sexually?)
(no, he... he didn't force me)
Some days it's easier to play make-belief. Sangwoo will take him out to the movies or a nice restaurant or just for a drive around town. Then Yoonbum gets to watch the raindrops slither along the car windows, made iridescent by the traffic lights behind them. Yoonbum can lean his head against the cool glass and pretend that Sangwoo's hand on his knee does not feel like a bear trap.
Yoonbum has always wanted to go on dates. He had watched the people he wanted to go on dates with when they were going on dates and he had imagined what it would be like if they went on dates with him instead.
When Sangwoo takes Yoonbum on a date, he tells Bum what he should order off the menu. He decides when Yoonbum is tired and needs a break, and when they should continue. He holds Yoonbum's hand in public, even when there are people throwing them derisive looks.
“Don't you want to be seen with me, Bum?” he asks in a hurt tone, “Are you ashamed?”
“That's not it,” Yoonbum shudders out a breath, “I just... like to keep private things private.”
Sangwoo's gaze turns considering. Something in Yoonbum cowers and curls up like a small animal.
Half an hour later, Sangwoo fucks him on the backseat of his Hyundai. The sky is already darkening but there are still people around and they are only parked at the side of the road.
If someone were to look too closely, they would see. If someone were to look too closely, they'd call the police.
No one does.
(and later, how did he initiate intercourse?)
(most times he'd kiss me first.)
(and other times?)
(… other times not.)
Today is a good day. A good day means Sangwoo smiles a lot and there is nothing fatalistic about it.
He puts on music and rolls Yoonbum on his chair through the kitchen, giggling all the while, and when he is finally done he sinks to his knees and rests his head in Yoonbum's lap. Bum lifts his hand and drags tentative fingers through his hair.
“You feel just like mom,” Sangwoo hums contentedly. His eyes do not open.
“You're a good boy,” Yoonbum says. He almost means it.
“Huh.” Another smile tugs at the corners of Sangwoo's mouth, but this one is softer, tinged with melancholia. “I could have been.”
(there's a term for this.)
(for what?)
(empathizing with your captor. it's called stockholm syndrome.)
(…)
(i don't think it's that easy.)
They can waste hours sometimes, sunken into the couch cushions and kissing lazily.
Sangwoo's mouth is like a candied apple, sticky and sweet and once you've touched him your fingers have been stained red.
“You know what?” Sangwoo says, after he has pressed a series of kisses onto the tip of Yoonbum's nose.
“What?” Yoonbum asks. His eyes flutter shut when Sangwoo leans in to kiss his forehead, too.
“Our anniversary is coming up.”
“Anniversary?” Yoonbum repeats without comprehension.
“Yeah,” Sangwoo says, “It's almost been a year since you came to live with me.”
“Oh,” Bum says and considers this. He has gotten much better in maneuvering around with the crutches nowadays and he can almost ignore the lingering pain in his legs. Other than that he has little frame of reference for how much time has passed.
On instinct, he turns his head to face the window. There is not much to see, really, but he thinks that the last time they went out the trees were clad in optimistic shades of green. It must be spring again.
“Oh,” he says again. He'd barely been aware of the seasons passing. Strange to think how time could fly.
“One year,” Sangwoo says. He nuzzles his nose into Yoonbum's hair, brushes his lips against his temple as though trying to plant thoughts like flowers. “I hope we'll be together for even longer.”
Yoonbum hums in agreement, easily leaning into the touch, but his eyes stay trained on the window.
(do you think you love him?)
(yes.)
(and do you think he loves you, too?)
(yes.)
(is that why you tried to fight when they took him into custody?)
(yes)
(so given the chance, would you go back to him?)
(yoonbum?)
(no.)
(but i'm afraid i'd want to)