consequences of a tongue slip (act iii)

[ppaprika]

yunho/jaejoong, changmin/yoochun
hard R; 2,006 w
suspense, mystery, romance
warning: incest, graphic violence

summary: He talks too much' was the single clue his tormentor has left Yunho after he has been forcefully caged in a makeshift prison for fifteen years of his life only to be released on the rooftop of a building; now he will hunt down the man who has destroyed him, track down each and every person involved in his abduction alongside a mysterious, young chef, whose face Yunho finds too familiar.

The Consequences of a Tongue Slip. ACT III “Awake now?” A gentle voice, like melody that filters the air, welcomes him to consciousness. Yunho groans and mumbles,headache, headace, to himself repeatedly. There’s a thermometer stuck under his armpit and he pulls it out to chuck it away, trying to blinks away the grogginess in his eyes at the same time.They sting and feel so dry.In the midst of the vigorous blinking, heis able to make out the image of a boy lying flat on his stomach while flipping through pages of a notebook. Yunho realizes then that he isn’t back in that dreadful prison and he’s probably at the boy’s place. He’s safe – should be at least. With that, his body sags back on the mattress. He feels for the hem of the blanket, diving back underneath, intent on going back to sleep. “Are these for real?” The boy asks, amazement lacing his voice. Yunho twists his head to the side, his gaze landing on the notebook the boy’s reading. The cover’s awfully familiar. Like the cover of the notebooks he’s written his secrets onto... Oh shit! “Yah! Give that back!” Yunho, flushed and half naked (he has no idea why he’s only in his boxers), jumps at the boy, snatching the notebook from the boy’s tight grip. “I was reading that!” The younger one huffs, jutting his lower lip in an involuntary pout but Yunho ignores it as he scrambles back onto the mattress, carrying an armful of notebooks that he’s just grabbed from the little twerp. The older man hears loud thumping of foot against wood as the boy mumbles something like “your fever went down but you’re still an asshole.” Yet, Yunho cannot be bothered and hunches closer to the comfort of the pillows, the notebooks he has stuffed underneath the pillows poking his side. “I thought you’re so masculine and strong and formidable and then you go fainting on me.” Yunho’s heart flutters with the compliment but he refuses to show any emotions. Without a sound, he shifts on the mattress, listening to the boy’s endless blabbering. “First impressions are always wrong-” “It’s the lack of sunlight.” Yunho defends, his back facing the boy. The latter makes a face, unhappy at how ungrateful Yunho is sounding. He’s expecting the older man to at least be kind to him. After all, he’s taken the man home on his own and carrying that broad body (he dragged Yunho’s long, long legs behind him though) from the subway to his home was not one easy task. Though he had gotten distasteful stares, he had endured it all for that ungrateful guy! Feeling the sudden need to go to the bathroom, the boy heads for it, all the while mumbling under his breath and feeling slightly annoyed. Meanwhile, a white packet of medicine catches Yunho’s attention and he picks it up for better scrutiny.The odd shape of the gel capsules makes him cringe. That’s going to be painful to swallow. Looking up, the older man sees the boy shuffle around for a roll of tissue he has dropped on the floor and fights the urge to chuckle at how fast the tissue is rolling away from the stumbling boy. The younger one, finally catching on with the tissue, composes himself and glares at an amused Yunho. “I’m going to the bathroom! Don’t do anything funny!” He demands (or tries to), acting tough and cool but failing miserably. Yunho lifts the hand he’s using to hold the packet of medicine,“What’s this?” “Suppositories,” the boy answers casually as he slides the door close. “How am I supposed to feed you medicine when you’re unconscious?” He continues, voice echoing inside the bathroom. There’s an awfully awkward silence that follows and he wonders if Yunho has fallen back to sleep. The younger man has his pants halfway undone when Yunho barges in, face still void of emotions but his actions are so impulsive and rough. Grabbing the other’s arm, he hauls the boy to stand straight before crashing his lips roughly against his soft and virgin ones. The boy squirms and pushes; he bites down on Yunho’s lips but the other just wouldn’t budge. Yunho threads his long fingers amongst the boy’s soft, raven locks and pulls, craning the other’s head to the right to expose an expanse of alabaster skin. “Mmm!” The boy digs his fingernails on Yunho’s exposed arms. The older man feels his skin tearing but the boy’s taste is so exquisite and lovely or maybe fifteen years of imprisonment has messed up his hormones. The boy reaches out behind him, chubby little fingers knocking down bottles after bottles of shampoo and liquid soap. Yunho curses when something round and solid lands on his forehead. His ears are ringing and his eyesight doubles for a moment – not a good sign. The kid has got some unbelievable strength and that conditioner bottle has got to be made of something like concrete. Yes, the younger man has slammed a bottle of conditioner onto Yunho’s forehead. Letting go of the boy, the older man stumbles back a few steps, getting a good view of the person he has just molested. Puffy eyes (is he crying?) and red, swollen lips. His hair’s a little messy too, like he’s just woken up. Yunho feels guilt bubbling in the pit of his stomach so he scrambles away from the scene. Seeing his pants at the foot of the mattress, he hurriedly slips it on, intent on making his escape. He’s only able to get hold of a shirt (he’s not sure it’s his) when the kid saunters to his direction sullenly. “I’m sorry for hitting you,” He mumbles and hiccups loudly before rubbing at his eyes. “I’m the one who brought you here. I must’ve given you the wrong idea.” Yunho realizes the boy’s crying. “But don’t get the wrong idea! I like you too, ahjussi but-” he pauses and lifts his head to look Yunho in the eyes, “I-I’m not ready for those k-kind of things and you don’t even k-know my name yet.” Having finished his stuttering, the blushing boy buries his face back in the safety of his palms again. He can’t believe that he has just explicitly expressed his crush at first sight for the older man. “What’s your name?” Yunho asks, back still turned towards the kid, missing the delighted grin that instantly replaces the crestfallen expression on the boy’s face. “I’m Jaejoong!” When ‘Jaejoong’ trips on his own feet as he hastily shuffles through the contents of the freezer, Yunho realizes it’s not going to be that bad living with such a clumsy person. The boy presses the pack of ice to Yunho’s forehead and leans on the broad shoulder comfortably. It reminds Yunho of his wife who used to coddle up to him just like this. The feeling of homeliness. Nostalgia, that’s all that kid is bringing him; nostalgia and bittersweet memories that will always remain as a thing of the past. “When I’m ready, like really, really ready, then I’ll let you do whatever you want” He whispers and Yunho has to strain his ears to hear the rest, “and even if I back out the last minute, you should continue okay? Give me your best shot” he pulls away to stab a fist in midair, taking a brief glance at Yunho’s face before sinking back into the older man’s warmth. Yunho sits still, remaining expressionless, and Jaejoong is not satisfied with the lack of attention so he taps his finger relentlessly on the older man’s muscled arm. “Okay, ahjussi?” He questions and Yunho nods obediently this time. Jaejoong doesn’t need to see the gesture to know that he’s already gained someone special. -- “He once called from overseas, asking if his father had been found,” The middle-aged woman sighs, her stocky fingers rummaging through an old, dusty box. “He still doesn’t know his father killed his mother.The police said it’s best to hide it from him… … and since he has very few relatives, he calls us very often.” Jaejoong scrunches his nose under the weight of the sunglasses Yunho has given him. He’s wearing one of the few presentable outfits he has in his closet, a white dress shirt and a black, leather jacket. That’s the best he could do to look a littlemore like a reporter, his current disguise. They have located one of Yunho’s distant relatives in a small clock shop and the older man had gotten him to approach her for information. With wall clocks plastered everywhere in the store, Jaejoong’s eyes bounce from one wall to another under the sunglasses. Yet, he begins to get a little dizzy watching the second-hands tick by simultaneously in different clocks and decides tore-focus his gaze on the woman in front of him. “His Korean has gotten bad but he’s pretty much doing good inSweden,” she rambles on, triumphantly wagging a yellowish sheet of paper, an unfamiliar alphabet scribbled messily on it. “He hasn’t been caught, right?” The woman breathes, handing Jaejoong the paper. The boy shakes his head, emotions masked by the dark glasses. “Yunho-ssi hasn’t been caught…” She frowns. “Don’t worry, ahjumma. Someone’s ought to pay for that crime.” Jaejoong smiles apologetically to the woman and bows in respect before trudging toward the exit. Yunho’s not going to jail, no because he’s not the killer. The young boy repeats in his head, in spite of the doubts and uncertainties that should’ve been present. He rounds the corner to his left and smiles at the man dressed in all black. The taller man’s head is hanging low, enough to cover his face from view. “Yah ahjussi! You are looking more suspicious dressed up like that.You actually stand out in the crowd.” Yunho sneers at that before pulling Jaejoong by the arm and marching them into a dingy café. “Here’s your son’s address in Sweden, as well as his phone number and the map to your wife’s grave is on the back.” Jaejoong explains as he hands over the piece of paper the woman has given him before raising his hand to motion for a waiter to come over. “Two cups of coffee please-“ Eva Von Ljungberg Stockholm, Sweden “No sugar.” Yunho interrupts, his gaze trained on the messy handwriting. He doesn’t understand the meaning of the words, but he’s pretty sure he’s heard these words before. Eva.Stockholm He mouths. Sounds very, very familiar, But he can’t seem to remember where he’s heard it before. “And no sugar for the old man here.” The waiter chortles at Jaejoong’s antics. Yunho could hear the younger boy cracking lame jokes at the waiter but he can’t make out half of what the young boy is saying. Jaejoong tends to slur words too much and his voice is a little too air-deflated, like he’s just ran a marathon. It’s a wonder how Yunho’s able to understand his non-stop blabbering at home. Home. Jaejoong’s small, rundown apartment is where he now calls home. A snap of fingers in his face pulls him out of his trance. Yunho hasn’t even notice the waiter leave; he’s too caught up in his own train of thoughts.Looking up only to meet Jaejoong’s eyes, the older man finds nothing but concern and curiosity. “You’re crying.” The young boy says, lifting a hand up to brush the tears from sun-kissed skin. Yunho brings his hand up to hold onto the warmth brushing his cheek, and holding Jaejoong’s hand in place, he cries. He’s almost forgotten how it feels like to cry.He’s almost forgotten how good it is holding another hand in his own. I’ll kill him, Jaejoong bites the inside of his cheek as he watches Yunho force a bitter smile on his lips. He’s lost everything, everything he’s ever had, and he doesn’t need Yunho to tell him that to figure out what those tears are for. Quietly, the boy watches Yunho nuzzle his hand, tears smeared all over his face. I’ll kill him before I visit my wife’s grave. I will kill him and end everything once and for all.