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writetomyheart2016-12-14 03:49 pm
thesockmonster.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2016-12-14 03:49 pm
Entry tags:
[Team Five] More Day Men
Someone is going to have to pry this au from me.
Does nothing ever get under that thick skin of yours?
A question that Jongin has heard many times in his life now gives him pause to consider an answer. There was a time when he was the same as everyone else, just as innocent to the horrors of the world. He just outgrew it before he became an adult. Too much experience.
Jongin was a kid the first time he witnessed death.
At six years old, he didn’t understand. The adults paid him no mind, more concerned with themselves. Jongin remembers the unsettling feeling that something awful had happened, that he would never see his grandmother again. He knew something had been funny when he woke up next to her and she was cold, her lips blue. His parents always told him to call the police if anything was wrong, and when his grandmother wouldn’t wake up, he’d called.
Death visited again when Jongin was thirteen. He wasn’t supposed to be out in the rain on his bicycle, but he’d wanted to go down to the park to play anyway. He wasn’t supposed to be out. There isn’t much he remembers about the events leading up to it - someone honking, another person yelling, and when he’d hit the brakes on his bicycle to stop, he fell and scraped his knee on the sidewalk. His eyes, however, were drawn to the body in the street, red rivulets flowing away with the water and lifeless eyes staring back at him.
Jongin was afraid then, but it soon passed.
It seems death has a twisted sense of humor. Jongin’s life has been painted with it. His career choice hadn’t helped. Law enforcement. He saw the gruesome things people did to each other, unable to wipe it from the backs of his eyelids when he slept at night. He thought he was helping. He was doing good work.
He got a promotion, his own badge and a desk with the other detectives. He busted ass to track down the worst of the worst while keeping himself shielded from the true horrors of it. He hadn’t known that the worst had yet to show its face.
There are so many regrets that linger in Jongin’s mind, rattling around his skull to plague his every thought. It’s not like he can run from them now. All he has is his thoughts and the ache in his shoulders. He lost the feeling in his hands and arms hours ago. It’s better than the agony he’d been in as his broken wrist was locked in a metal shackle, keeping him from being able to drop to the floor.
Jongin wonders if there’s even a guard on the door. Yifan had been calculated in the way he’d tortured Jongin, knowing how much Jongin’s human body could take without it being fatal. Yifan isn’t out to kill Jongin. Not yet. Jongin’s not an idiot. He’s also not stupid. He knows there’s a camera in the corner of the dingy basement, recording his every move.
His eyes close, the heavy weight of his life beginning to catch up with him. It was only a matter of time. Too many Day Men have come and gone under Jongin’s watch, too many have died; it’s Jongin’s turn. It should scare him, but it doesn’t. If death comes for him, he will be ready.
Jongin isn’t sure how long he’s been here, but it’s surely been long enough for someone to notice his absence. He’s nothing if not meticulously organized when it comes to his Day Men. Jongin not checking in with them will raise alarm bells. Not they’ll know where to start looking. Chanyeol had been smart; he’d taken Jongin somewhere he’d never been before, and he’s sure that Chanyeol has gotten rid of his car by now. It’s what Jongin would do.
Light floods in from the door opening and Jongin can’t turn toward it, but he can hear the footsteps on the creaking stairs. His head hangs low, and he doesn’t look up even when his visitor stops in front of him, shoes in Jongin’s vision. The sound of breathing is absent, as is the inherent fidgeting that most humans can’t help.
It’s Yifan.
“It’s nothing personal,” Yifan finally says, his voice soft even as it fills the room.
Jongin laughs without meaning to. “You’re using me to get to my boss. It’s a little personal.”
“Maybe a little,” Yifan admits. “But I do need to get my point across and you’re the only weakness Joonmyun has.”
Jongin finally drags his eyes up to settle on Yifan’s face. “I think you overestimate my value.”
“I think you underestimate yours.” Yifan crouches, reaching out to stroke his thumb over Jongin’s busted lip.
Jongin fights down the urge to flinch as pain radiates through his mouth. He doesn’t know what to expect from the vampire.
“Chanyeol wants me to go easier on you,” Yifan comments, his hand sliding back until his fingers are curling in Jongin’s hair, forcing his head to snap back when he pulls. “I think you can handle it, but he seems to have a soft spot for you.”
Jongin tempts his fate. “Jealous?” he whispers.
Yifan’s eyes narrow. “Goading me into ending your pathetic life won’t work. I’m going to get what I want from you before I snuff out the light inside of you. And then, maybe, I’ll end it all for you. You’ll be begging for it.”
“You seem to have a high opinion of your skills,” Jongin tells him. “If I'm going to die for him, the least you can do is tell me why you hate Joonmyun so much.”
Yifan stares at Jongin for a moment before laughing. He releases his grip on Jongin and stands, his laughter echoing off the walls to fill Jongin’s ears. “He never told you?” Yifan asks, still laughing.
Jongin swallows, darkness beginning to creep in along the edges of his vision. He’s going to pass out.
Yifan climbs the stairs and pauses at the top. Jongin slumps, a shock of pain radiating down through his chest.
“You want to know what your precious Joonmyun did to me?” Yifan asks. “He turned me.”
you're up,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
carpesoo
Does nothing ever get under that thick skin of yours?
A question that Jongin has heard many times in his life now gives him pause to consider an answer. There was a time when he was the same as everyone else, just as innocent to the horrors of the world. He just outgrew it before he became an adult. Too much experience.
Jongin was a kid the first time he witnessed death.
At six years old, he didn’t understand. The adults paid him no mind, more concerned with themselves. Jongin remembers the unsettling feeling that something awful had happened, that he would never see his grandmother again. He knew something had been funny when he woke up next to her and she was cold, her lips blue. His parents always told him to call the police if anything was wrong, and when his grandmother wouldn’t wake up, he’d called.
Death visited again when Jongin was thirteen. He wasn’t supposed to be out in the rain on his bicycle, but he’d wanted to go down to the park to play anyway. He wasn’t supposed to be out. There isn’t much he remembers about the events leading up to it - someone honking, another person yelling, and when he’d hit the brakes on his bicycle to stop, he fell and scraped his knee on the sidewalk. His eyes, however, were drawn to the body in the street, red rivulets flowing away with the water and lifeless eyes staring back at him.
Jongin was afraid then, but it soon passed.
It seems death has a twisted sense of humor. Jongin’s life has been painted with it. His career choice hadn’t helped. Law enforcement. He saw the gruesome things people did to each other, unable to wipe it from the backs of his eyelids when he slept at night. He thought he was helping. He was doing good work.
He got a promotion, his own badge and a desk with the other detectives. He busted ass to track down the worst of the worst while keeping himself shielded from the true horrors of it. He hadn’t known that the worst had yet to show its face.
There are so many regrets that linger in Jongin’s mind, rattling around his skull to plague his every thought. It’s not like he can run from them now. All he has is his thoughts and the ache in his shoulders. He lost the feeling in his hands and arms hours ago. It’s better than the agony he’d been in as his broken wrist was locked in a metal shackle, keeping him from being able to drop to the floor.
Jongin wonders if there’s even a guard on the door. Yifan had been calculated in the way he’d tortured Jongin, knowing how much Jongin’s human body could take without it being fatal. Yifan isn’t out to kill Jongin. Not yet. Jongin’s not an idiot. He’s also not stupid. He knows there’s a camera in the corner of the dingy basement, recording his every move.
His eyes close, the heavy weight of his life beginning to catch up with him. It was only a matter of time. Too many Day Men have come and gone under Jongin’s watch, too many have died; it’s Jongin’s turn. It should scare him, but it doesn’t. If death comes for him, he will be ready.
Jongin isn’t sure how long he’s been here, but it’s surely been long enough for someone to notice his absence. He’s nothing if not meticulously organized when it comes to his Day Men. Jongin not checking in with them will raise alarm bells. Not they’ll know where to start looking. Chanyeol had been smart; he’d taken Jongin somewhere he’d never been before, and he’s sure that Chanyeol has gotten rid of his car by now. It’s what Jongin would do.
Light floods in from the door opening and Jongin can’t turn toward it, but he can hear the footsteps on the creaking stairs. His head hangs low, and he doesn’t look up even when his visitor stops in front of him, shoes in Jongin’s vision. The sound of breathing is absent, as is the inherent fidgeting that most humans can’t help.
It’s Yifan.
“It’s nothing personal,” Yifan finally says, his voice soft even as it fills the room.
Jongin laughs without meaning to. “You’re using me to get to my boss. It’s a little personal.”
“Maybe a little,” Yifan admits. “But I do need to get my point across and you’re the only weakness Joonmyun has.”
Jongin finally drags his eyes up to settle on Yifan’s face. “I think you overestimate my value.”
“I think you underestimate yours.” Yifan crouches, reaching out to stroke his thumb over Jongin’s busted lip.
Jongin fights down the urge to flinch as pain radiates through his mouth. He doesn’t know what to expect from the vampire.
“Chanyeol wants me to go easier on you,” Yifan comments, his hand sliding back until his fingers are curling in Jongin’s hair, forcing his head to snap back when he pulls. “I think you can handle it, but he seems to have a soft spot for you.”
Jongin tempts his fate. “Jealous?” he whispers.
Yifan’s eyes narrow. “Goading me into ending your pathetic life won’t work. I’m going to get what I want from you before I snuff out the light inside of you. And then, maybe, I’ll end it all for you. You’ll be begging for it.”
“You seem to have a high opinion of your skills,” Jongin tells him. “If I'm going to die for him, the least you can do is tell me why you hate Joonmyun so much.”
Yifan stares at Jongin for a moment before laughing. He releases his grip on Jongin and stands, his laughter echoing off the walls to fill Jongin’s ears. “He never told you?” Yifan asks, still laughing.
Jongin swallows, darkness beginning to creep in along the edges of his vision. He’s going to pass out.
Yifan climbs the stairs and pauses at the top. Jongin slumps, a shock of pain radiating down through his chest.
“You want to know what your precious Joonmyun did to me?” Yifan asks. “He turned me.”
you're up,
carpesoo
no subject
I love how vivid and atmospheric your writing is here, bunny! And you managed to cram so much of jongin's backstory into such a short space of narrative I'm !!!
Also this exchange:
"I think you overestimate my value."
"I think you underestimate yours."
EEP AT HOW IMPORTANT JONGIN IS TO JOONMYUN!!!!
Chanyeol has a "soft spot" for Jongin?! I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE!!!
Ok. I need to sit down now bc Jongin isn't mortal anymore ... right? I might pass out. Ok bye.
Thank you for writing this and I can't wait to see what happens next EEEKKKK! I love this au!