the darkest timeline (1/2)

[jecca-o9.livejournal.com]

the darkest timeline
jonghyun/key; minor SM town side pairings
18,180 words | nc-17 | crime & mystery, romance
warnings This work contains situations that some readers may find objectionable such as sexual situations, violence, blood and/or gore, blasphemy, death (not Jongkey), torture, mentions of abuse and a non-linear timeline. Read at your own risk.
summary Serial Killer!AU. All it takes is one mistake to ruin everything.

notes This is a one-shot, only split into two parts because it's too big for LJ :|
For this prompt at jongkeykink. Many thanks and love  to quicheand for being the most amazing beta ever, without whom this wouldn't be finished and/or understandable. guys, seriously i shall call her squishy and she shall be mine and she shall be my squishy.
_{If you want to find out more about the sources, background, and inspiration for this fic, read my full author's note (preferably after reading the fic, since it's a lot spoilery. Trust me, getting spoiled takes away half the surprises in this fic--not worth it.)} Also, I don't usually ask for comments, but I'd more than appreciate it if you could leave me some, if you think this worthy of your time. srsly after what i learned researching for this,i need love.
edit now with ART!








All creatures kill—there seems to be no exception. But of the whole list man is the only one that kills for fun .

—Mark Twain







Kibum met him in a club.

It was the kind of club that had multiple bars and a roomy dance floor; a bar on either end of the place while at the middle was a makeshift stage, a dance floor with cocktail tables. Red lounge chairs and tables littered around the two bars, and near the left side was a spiral staircase that led to the VIP lounge. It was a Friday night and there were bodies grinding on the dance floor, light dousing everyone in green, purple, blue, red. The DJ was a dud but everyone was too drunk on cheap liquor to care.

The bar at the left side was much quieter than its counterpart. It was circular, with beer taps on both ends and a display of alcoholic beverages on the middle shelves. Kibum sat in front of his favored bartender, Donghae.

“No one’s dancing today,” Kibum noted over his fruity drink, nodding at the dark stage. Three seats away from him, a muscled man sneered at his choice of drink. Kibum rolled his eyes at the man; colorful as his drink may be, it had as much alcohol content as the beer the man was drinking, only his tasted much better.

“Yeah, our management decided to stop it for awhile, at least until the missing dancers aren’t such a big issue. Some clubs don’t bother, think the news is good for business.”

“Missing dancers?”

“You haven’t heard?” A frown knotted Donghae’s brows. Damn, but was he good looking. Kibum stared at him appreciatively, shaking his head slightly.

“It’s been on the news lately. There’s been a bunch of missing girls reported over the last few months. Most of them are dancers at clubs.” Donghae paused, wiping a glass. The dulcet tones of Nicki Minaj blasted over the speakers. “And a couple are prostitutes. Nobody noticed at first, since nobody bothered to call them in. But then girls with contracts in clubs started disappearing. There’s been ten reported so far on the news. Apparently this happened over a six month period, and the police are only noticing the pattern now.”

A man stumbled next to Kibum on the bar, blonde and lanky. He had bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days, stubble a day old. He sat and motioned for a drink. Donghae eyed him warily, his face betraying his thoughts.

“You okay, man?”

The man waved his hand in the universal sign for ‘I-don’t-care-gimme-a-drink’. Donghae sighed and turned away.

“Ten? Maybe they just ran away or something?” Kibum said, a small frown between his brows.

Donghae slid a scotch on the rocks towards the blonde man, glass smoothly sliding over the countertop. “It’s possible. There haven’t been any bodies found, so.”

“Maybe they just all got fed-up of getting felt up every night.” Kibum sipped his drink. He thought of his friend, Nicole, complaining about the handsy men at her job. He should check on her after her shift. The man beside him slammed the glass on the counter and slurred for another.

“Seriously man, you should stop.” Donghae said.

The man snorted. “I got thrown out of the bar down the sssstreet. My girlfriend ch-ch-cheated, okay? I need all the dinksss I can get. Five—five fucking years.” He slurred. He laughed, then slammed his hand on the counter. “Just give me a drink.”

Kibum looked at him sympathetically. “Sorry to hear about that.”

“D-don’t need your pity.” The man grumbled, hand rubbing against his face.

“It’s not.” Kibum said, crossing his legs at the ankle. “My partner left me too.” He raised his glass as Donghae slipped the man his second drink of scotch. “Cheers?”

The man gave him a once-over, from his blonde hair, earring, sparkly sleeveless top and skinny jeans. He held his glass up. “Pair of fools, that’s us.”

He drained his glass in one gulp, signaling Donghae for another. “I’m John Williams, of the girlfriend who ch-cheated while ssshe was out of town. Guess it’s my f-fault, worked the same job for sev-eight years. I hate my fucking life.”

“Ah.” Kibum said. “I’m Kim Kibum. My partner didn’t like to load the dishwasher. It’s not a hard thing to do, especially when he doesn’t even cook or clean the apartment. We got into a fight, one thing led to another, and he left.”

“H-how long?” The man asked, starting on his scotch.

“He moved out last week. We were together for four years.” He drained his glass and signaled Donghae for a glass of water.

“Ah c-hic-come on, man, none of that. Drink some more!” John raised his new glass and succeeded in swishing whiskey down his front. “Fuck! I hate my life.”

Donghae moved to the other side of the bar, serving a couple from the dance floor. Kibum bit his lip, helping John place the glass back on the counter, contents still half-full. “Maybe you should just tell me more about your girlfriend. Talking will help.”

“What are you, a th-therapist?” John snorted. He drank the rest of the whiskey, wiped his mouth. He placed his forehead against the rim of the glass, looked at Kibum with the renewed wisdom of a drunk and shrugged. “Why the h-hell not? ‘S’not going to get any worse, anyway.”


*

Bae Suzy ran away from home when she was fifteen. That was three long years ago. Somehow, she’d ended up at a bus station in New Jersey with only her pink backpack with clothes and her make-up kit on her. Her hair had come out of its plait from the long bus ride, wisps framing her face. She was cold, lost, hungry and frustrated. A guy around eight years her senior had seen her. He was friendly and offered to treat her to dinner. At that moment, her current life began.

A black Toyota Hyundai pulled up. The window rolled down. She leaned in, resting her arms atop the rolled glass. “Hey there,” she smiled.

The man at the driver’s seat was pudgy, in a gaudy orange shirt and khaki shorts. His hair was combed to a side part.

“How much?” He grunted. His chest heaved unattractively with every breath.

“Depends on what you want to happen, sweetie.” She said, fake smile on her face.

The door unlocked. She opened the door and slid in the seat, crossing her legs enough to show bare thigh under the white skirt. They drove off to a nearby motel.

It seemed she’d run away from one abusive home into another.

*

Kim Jonghyun was a lounge singer. He dreamt of fame, once. Fortunately, living in New York grounded him in reality. He’d also picked up more fulfilling hobbies than singing. His parents were well-off and they didn’t care much what their son did, as long as he stayed out of prison. He did, comfortably taking from his trust fund whenever he couldn’t make ends meet with his job.

Tonight, the lounge wasn’t full. It was a Wednesday and he was working on his slow jams playlist and requests from the few customers. He could see his friends in the crowd, a bottle of vodka on the table and three baskets of fries.

Zhou Mi was talking enthusiastically, long limbs waving. Kyuhyun was listening with his head propped on his palm, eyes concentrated on Zhou Mi. Amber seemed to be contradicting Zhou Mi, hands flailing. Next to her was someone he didn’t know, feline eyes and dark hair, blue sleeveless shirt. Henry sat on the end of the table, one basket of fries at his corner. Taemin was leaning against the booth, talking to the stranger. Jonghyun finished singing his first set of the night with Sisqo’s “Incomplete”.

“Hey!” Amber greeted him as he approached them on his break. She’d finally realized that Henry was eating all their fries and had switched seats, guarding the food from her boyfriend.

Jonghyun grunted, grabbing a bottle of water from the table and drinking. He squeezed in the booth, avoiding Zhou Mi’s long limbs and dropping next to the stranger.

After the mandatory bro hugs and hand shakes, Amber introduced him to the pretty boy. He was Kim Kibum, Amber’s workmate.

“Hi,” Kim Kibum said.

“Hey,” Jonghyun said, smiling. He ran a hand through his dark locks. He let his eyes wander over Kibum’s form, slowly.

“Gross, greasy old man.” Amber said, throwing a wadded up tissue at him. Henry resumed eating the fries and Zhou Mi continued his story. Jonghyun grinned and chatted with Kibum and Taemin for the rest of his break. Taemin left before his second set started. Kibum stayed.

*

Jonghyun smiled, leather gloved hands gently removing a girl’s hands from his jacket. His hair was dyed blonde now. The music pulsed around them, engulfing them in the sea of bodies. She looked up at him, all glittery eye make-up and half-lidded eyes. “You shy, boy?” She flicked her long red hair over her shoulder, gyrating closer.

Jonghyun ignored her, watching the bar out of the corner of his eye. He could see Kibum still talking to the blonde man who’d stumbled in earlier. He’d been close enough then to hear the beginnings of their conversation, but the throng of people had moved him further into the dance floor. They’ve been taking for thirty minutes, Kibum nursing his fourth drink of the night, John his eighth in the thirty minutes he’d arrived. He was swaying over the counter now, frowning at Donghae who was shaking his head, refusing to serve him.

John sat back on the stool angrily. The redhead shimmied down Jonghyun’s body, hands grasping his legs as she moved down and up. John said something to Kibum, one hand falling to Kibum’s thigh. And there it stayed. The redhead finally was back upright, looking at him, confusion in her eyes, but too far gone to think clearly. “There’s something weird on your leg.” She informed him, hand running through her hair. She jiggled her breasts in his face to Ke$ha’s TikT Tok.

“So I’ve heard.” Jonghyun muttered, pushing her away from him none-too-gently. John was leaning towards Kibum now, alcohol laced breath in his face, hand still on his thigh.

Jonghyun needed a smoke.

*

“It’s all right,” Victoria said, hand grasping her mother’s tightly. She had long dark hair with bangs straight across her forehead, wide eyes and long legs. She was a gymnast and a dancer, and they couldn’t afford the hospital’s services for more than a couple of days.

Her mother was a Type 1 diabetic. She’d given herself too much insulin, enough to fall into a coma. Her mother shared none of her daughter’s beautiful features and she looked restless, even while unconscious. Her insulin was hooked into an IV on her arm.

“They said people in a coma can hear what’s going on around them,” Victoria said, looking up as Kibum entered the room. “Is that true?”

Kibum gave her a sympathetic smile. “There are some people who do.”

The girl nodded. “I’m Victoria,” She held on to her mother’s hand.

“I’m Kibum.” He checked on the IV drip and adjusted accordingly.

“Thanks for calming me down yesterday. I’m sorry I was such a mess.” Her mother was admitted yesterday. Victoria had been frantic, having just found her at their one-story apartment after work.

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s understandable.” Kibum offered her a smile, which she returned.

The door opened and in came a tall man with blonde hair.

“Hey,” he walked over to Victoria’s side and kissed her cheek.

“Hi,” she muttered into his neck, taking comfort in his scent. “Nichkhun, that’s Kibum. Kibum, this is my boyfriend, Nichkhun.”

“Good job, you.”Kibum said playfully, winking at Victoria. The couple blushed. If that isn’t sickeningly cute… “I’ll be back in a couple of hours for another dose.”

Kibum closed the door behind him, hearing Victoria’s murmurs of “She’s been saying she wants to die but I didn’t think she would actually do...”

Kibum was a nurse and he loved his job. He looked over people, he got a lot of numbers dropped in his pocket, got invitations for parties and dinners by the families of the patients once they were released which made his network expand exponentially. He saved people’s lives on a daily basis and he helped those who couldn’t be saved be comfortable on their way to the end. Plus, the pay was good.

The best thing about his job: It let him do what he enjoyed the most.

*

The first time they went out, Jonghyun took Key to a pirate movie. Kibum’s biting commentary during the movie made Jonghyun laugh, their fingers brushing each others on the arm rest. Jonghyun had been attracted to plenty of people but it was the first time he spent more time watching his date than the movie. The flickering lights of the screen threw shadows in Kibum’s face, highlighting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners during the jokes or the way his gaze turned skeptical at a bad line. Jonghyun hadn’t bothered to be subtle, so it was no surprise when Kibum turned to face him halfway through the movie.

Instead of getting a blush or a reprimand like he expected, all Kibum said was, “If you want to kiss me, then just do it.”

Jonghyun grinned and did, fingers closing over the back of Kibum’s neck. Kibum’s lips were soft underneath his and he made the best sound when Jonghyun nibbled on his lower lip.

They had dinner at an Italian place, mostly for the unlimited free bread and vinaigrette served beforehand. Kibum found Jonghyun charming and cocky, a deadly combination. There was no doubt that Jonghyun was attractive, with his toned arms and smile. He didn’t expect to get along with Jonghyun right off the bat, but here they were. Sometimes, life did have good surprises.

*

There was a large dumpster propped against the wall in the back alley of the club. The brick walls were weather beaten and stained with dry come and piss. Jonghyun stared at the wall as he smoked, exhaling deeply. A blonde man ambled out of the club and into the alley, holding his stomach. He coughed and the smell of alcohol wafted up Jonghyun’s nose.

Jonghyun looked at him and realized it was John, of the cheating girlfriend and groping Kibum, Williams. His heart was suddenly thudding in his chest and before he knew it, he had bent down and detached the blade from the holster under his cargo pants. He blinked at the weapon in his hand and a slow smile curved his lips. Silently, he stepped behind John, who was doubled over, facing the wall and wheezing. In a quick flash, he had a hold around John’s shoulders, blade pointed at his neck.

“Wha—“ John garbled. He froze when he realized what was happening.

“Hi.” Jonghyun muttered.

Jonghyun traced the blade around his neck. John quivered, eyes trying to look at the blade from an awkward angle.

“P-Please,” He said. “I—I think I’m going to—I’ll give you my money, j— just let me go.” Droplets of sweat formed on his forehead, falling on his pallid skin. He groaned in pain.

Jonghyun wondered if he was suffering from alcohol poisoning, then decided he didn’t care. He smirked. “I don’t need your money.”

John’s eyes widened in fear. He spoke, forcing the words through the pain and panic. “I swear, I— I’m really rich. I can give you anything you want.”

“I’ve already got everything I want.” Jonghyun replied calmly, blade pressing right below his adams apple. A trickle of blood seeped out of the skin. Jonghyun’s heart sped up in excitement.

The man whimpered. His knees were shaking. There was a stench of piss, and Jonghyun knew that the man just dirtied himself. The corner of Jonghyun’s mouth lifted, his excitement reaching its peak.

“And I don’t like people touching my things.” Jonghyun finished.

John’s eyes widened, confusion evident in the fear. He struggled, elbowing Jonghyun in the armpit. The movement caused Jonghyun to wince and involuntarily stab the side his neck, blood gushing from the wound. John gasped, “Plea—“

Jonghyun frowned at the accidental mess. He removed the knife then drew the blade sharply across Johns neck, deep enough to stop him from screaming and killing him instantly. He dropped to the concrete, voiceless and unmoving. Blood gushed from the gaping wound his neck, flowing to the concrete.

Jonghyun panted, coming down from the rush as he surveyed the scene, one hand still on his knife.

John lay on the ground, blonde hair askew, eyes wide open. The gashes on his neck were ghastly, blood pooling around his neck and shoulders, saliva running down his chin and his pants wet.

Jonghyun cocked his head. That really wasn’t a pretty picture.

He blinked, looking at his surroundings. From inside, the music still blared. The night was calm, as calm as it could be on a Friday night in the city. There was a man lying dead at his feet. A feeling of unease unraveled in his stomach. What the fuck had he done?

Dimly, he registered a voice from the alley. It said: “Oh my god!”

*

Dr. Lee Jinki shook his head, his gestures awkward and regretful. Kibum watched as the normally strong Yunho’s face crumpled, hand covering his face. His father took a seat on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the hallway, face frozen in a state of shock.

Silently, he passed by the family and helped Amber unhook Jihye from her medication.

“Just leave her for a little bit.” Yunho came in the room, looking at his sister’s lifeless body. “Please. Just a minute.”

Kibum exchanged a look with Amber, who shrugged. They left. Kibum was about to close the door behind him when Yunho stopped him.

“Thank you.” Yunho said, quietly. “You made her laugh while she was here. That means a lot.”

“My pleasure.” Kibum replied, offering a consoling smile at Yunho. Outside, Kibum could her Mrs. Jung saying that daughters aren’t supposed to die before their parents. Yunho nodded at him, eyes glassy.

“Let us take you out to lunch some time.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Kibum said, shaking his head.

“She’d have wanted it.” Yunho replied softly, before going over to the bed and holding his sister’s hand. The machines were silent, Jihye’s eyes closed.

Kibum observed the siblings for a second, before closing the door behind him.

*

Jonghyun’s head snapped towards the sound, knife at the ready. The stranger walked closer, finally illuminated by the lamplight.

Jonghyun breathed again. “Fuck you, you scared me.”

“That’s not fair,” Kibum whined, squatting next to the body and feeling for a pulse on his wrist. His glittery top sparkled underneath the light. Blood continued spilling in a steady stream from the laceration in John’s neck to the pavement, the puddle on the pavement spreading. “We had a deal. Look at the mess you made.”

Jonghyun shrugged, wiped his knife clean on the man’s pants before sheathing it again.

Kibum sighed and pouted. “This is not the point of an experiment, Jonghyun. ”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, he came out here clutching his stomach looking sick.” Jonghyun studied his gloves for blood. These were his favorite ones, what the hell was he thinking killing in them?

He wasn’t.

Kibum made a moue. “Yeah, but was it because he drank too much that he poisoned himself? Or something else?”

Jonghyun shrugged. He looked at the body again. It was disturbing, lying there on the alleyway. “Let’s get out of here.”

Kibum stood up, slowly, as if realizing something. He cocked his head at Jonghyun, eyes thoughtful. A slow smile crept up his face.

Jonghyun looked at him warily. “What.”

“You were jealous, weren’t you.”

Jonghyun scoffed. “No.”

“Yeah, right.” Kibum smirked. He walked closer, trapping Jonghyun against the wall of the opposite establishment. Under the dim light, Jonghyun could see the tiny bit of glitter Kibum put on his lids, the smile on his face sure.

Jonghyun growled. He hooked two fingers in Kibum’s belt loop and pulled until they’re face to face, toe to toe. “You’re mine. Other people aren’t supposed to touch you.”

“Mhmm, please don’t get blood on my jeans,” is all Kibum said before Jonghyun claimed his lips in a possessive kiss, hands wrapping tight around Kibum’s waist.

*

Jonghyun wore his tin mask, double rubber gloves up to his elbows. He put one leg inside the drum. He placed the other leg parallel to the first, then the thigh on top of them vertically, upper arms in the same place as the legs, lower arms the same position as the thighs. He placed the torso in the middle of the limbs . The head lolled backwards, bangs over her eyes, severed muscles and cartilage exposed.

Perfect tableau.

“Goodnight.” Jonghyun said.

He added the acid slowly, relishing in the way the liquid rose up and covered the body. The fumes curled around the drum and rose above, higher and higher as the body was submerged. Jonghyun took a final look, smiled, and sealed the drum. She was spunky, this one, and a pretty good dancer in the club he picked her up in.

He disposed of his gloves and the bloody plastic in a trash bag, gathered her clothes to dump in the box. A bracelet fell from her skirt pocket. Grabbing a disposable glove off the table, he used it to pick up the item and held it up to the light. It was a simple silver trinket, chains at the end and a silver plate in the middle, her name carved into the metal. Minzy.

Well, that wouldn’t do. He placed the item in a separate plastic bag and put it in the box for disposing. He finished his ritual by cleaning his blade, disposing of the plastic covering the table in another bag, wiping down whatever stray blood that managed to stain the room (there usually wasn’t much, if any at all—he was very thorough in his preparations). Tomorrow, he’d bring out all the separated junk and dump them properly in another part of the city.

*

Kibum’s apartment was roomy and clean. It was well-decorated, bar a few sparkly objects here and there.

“Hey,” Jonghyun said. They were on Kibum’s couch, watching Inception on DVD, popcorn on Jonghyun’s lap. Jonghyun hadn’t been able to concentrate on the movie much, prepping himself for what he wanted to tell Kibum.

“Hmm?” Kibum asked him, eyes still on Tom Hardy’s face.

“I got tested last week.” His heart was banging unhealthily against his ribcage.

Kibum tore his gaze away from the screen to look at him, his mind running miles a minute. There was only one test Jonghyun could be talking about that was relevant for them, after all. Do you have something? and mentally breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that they’ve never had sex without protection.

Jonghyun took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I haven’t slept with anyone else since we started to.”

When Kibum still blinked at him, uncomprehending, eyes starting to show glimmers of worry, Jonghyun decided to just spit it out.

“I’m clean, babe, don’t worry. I’m great. I want... I want to fuck you without condoms.”

Kibum blinked. He hadn’t known Jonghyun long but they had common friends. Friends who told Kibum that Jonghyun wasn’t really the type to commit, his longest relationship lasting a year. Hell, they’ve been dating for six months and Kibum hadn’t even spent the night over at Jonghyun’ s flat, much less seen the inside of it. Kibum had brought this up a couple of times, but Jonghyun always deflected questions about his place.

“Preferably for a long time.” Jonghyun finished, looking straight at him.

Minutes passed. Jonghyun flushed, looked away. “Forget it.” He settled back in the couch, watched as the Inception team all appeared in suits.

This was really happening. “When you say for a long time,” Kibum finally said, licking his lips. “do you mean one time, or...”

Jonghyun looked at him, incredulous. Kibum smirked at him.

Kibum picked the bowl of popcorn up and placed it on the floor. He straddled Jonghyun’s lap. Jonghyun’s hands held his waist automatically.

“Okay. I’ll get tested tomorrow.”

Jonghyun’s eyes darkened, like a fire had been lit. Without a word, he pulled Kibum down roughly for a kiss, hands already working on removing Kibum of his shirt, unzipping his pants. Kibum found himself on the couch, Jonghyun sucking a mark on his neck, hands cupping him through his boxer briefs. The questions about Jonghyun’s flat could wait.

*

“What are we going to do with the body?” Jonghyun’s eyes were wide.

“Oh, you couldn’t have thought of that before you killed him?” Kibum asked. His lips were red, clothes disheveled.

“I wasn’t really thinking,” Jonghyun snapped, running a hand through his hair.

“And that’s why this is so weird,” Kibum muttered, staring at the bloody body. This wasn’t how Jonghyun usually worked. With Jonghyun, more often than not, there were no bodies to find afterwards.

Jonghyun started listing their options. “We obviously can’t drag him with us; he’s too bloody and people might see. There’s no alternative route out of this alley, either.”

“We have to leave him here,” Kibum said, voicing out what Jonghyun didn’t want to hear.

Jonghyun made a sound.

“It’s as bad for you as it is for me, idiot. Who do you think people saw him with inside the bar?” Kibum muttered.

Jonghyun sighed. “He’s not bleeding anymore, though. Maybe we can bring him with us to the car? Oh shoot, there’s still blood on the concrete.”

“Blood on the pavement, what a mess,” Kibum muttered under his breath.

Jonghyun looked at him. “Not really the time to sing hidden musical soundtracks, Kibum.”

Kibum made a face at him. “At least you were wearing gloves tonight.”

“Pure luck.” Jonghyun said, shaking his head. He’d never killed like that before. He squatted next to the corpse, surveyed it for a minute. He unclasped the man’s Gucci belt, folded it, slipped it into his jacket pocket. “I don’t think we should move it. We might leave more tiny shit here that can lead back to us.”

Kibum rolled his eyes at Jonghyun’s eloquent speech. “Take his wallet,” Kibum said.

“What, why?”

“So it looks like a robbery gone wrong, idiot. And if he doesn’t have an ID on him, makes it harder to identify him.”

Jonghyun took his wallet, pocketing it. “Let’s split up and meet at home in a couple of hours.”

Kibum nodded. “You take the car. Don’t make too much of a mess.”

Jonghyun stashed his gloves in their car. The knife he always kept on his person. He headed to the bar Jaejoong was singing in tonight. Kibum slipped back in the club, danced with a redhead before taking a cab to Nicole’s apartment.

*

Victoria and her mother had been there for over two weeks. It was long enough to transfer her mother into a private ward. The doctors did not see her waking up any time soon. Victoria had told Kibum offhandedly that she couldn’t pay for the bills but couldn’t bear to move her mother out of the hospital. She’d applied for a loan.

She was gone most days, coming only at night to talk to her mother and have a bit of a nap in the ward. Kibum would always come and tell her to go home, but she wouldn’t leave. Sometimes Nichkhun came in the afternoon and stayed with Victoria to watch vigil at night.

One week later, her mother passed on. Nichkhun wasn’t there and Kibum found himself comforting Victoria, her hand clutching his arm as she cried into his shoulder. Kibum patted her back consolingly, glad for the private quarters. It wouldn’t do to be so unprofessional with clients, after all. After a while, she distanced herself from him.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She rubbed her eye with the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s alright.” Kibum said.

“Thank you so much for all you’ve done for her.” Victoria said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

“It’s my job.” Kibum gave her a gentle smile.

Victoria nodded, still overcome with emotion. “Even after this… I hope we can still meet, after this.” She fumbled around in her purse and hands him her business card. “If you don’t mind.”

“Thank you.” Kibum smiled at her, accepting the card. “I’ll give you a call later so you can save my number.”

She nodded and Kibum let her hug him one last time before sending her to administration to fix her mother’s papers.

*

They took the money and burned the wallet and cards in their fireplace.

Jonghyun thumbed the wad of bills as he lay naked on the bed. “I’ve never stolen before. What are we going to do with this?”

Kibum shrugged, still sweating, come drying on his chest. The cotton sheets were sticking to his back. “Go shopping. Donate it. Give it to the homeless guy near the subway entrance.”

“I didn’t like it when you said we were broken up, you know.” Jonghyun said, placing the bills on their mahogany end table. A thousand dollars in the wallet, not bad. The man probably really was rich. He tugged Kibum’s wrist and kissed the palm of his hand.

Kibum rolled his eyes. “It was a lie, Jonghyun. You know, that thing people do when they don’t tell the truth?”

Jonghyun nipped his wrist. “I know.” He soothed the mark with his tongue.

Kibum kicked his shin. “You’re a possessive bitch, you know that?”

Jonghyun grunted in response. Kibum rolled on top of him. His back instantly felt cooler once unstuck from the sheets.

“As if I’d ever let you dump me.” Kibum said, face inches from Jonghyun.

Jonghyun let his hand rest where Kibum’s thigh met his buttock. “Likewise.”

Kibum closed the gap between their faces. Jonghyun’s hand inched lower, delighting in the feel of his come still in Kibum’s hole. Mine. Kibum kissed him slowly and gently, a far cry from what they’d done earlier. Jonghyun nibbled on Kibum’s bottom lip, slipped his finger inside. Kibum clenched around him. “Ugh, it’s drying.” Kibum muttered, wrenching his mouth away from Jonghyun’s, elbows resting on either side of Jonghyun’s head. Jonghyun pouted.

Kibum rolled out of bed. “I’m taking a shower.”

He padded to the bathroom. Jonghyun took a moment to enjoy the view.

“Want me to help you clean up?” Jonghyun called out. The shower door squeaked as it slid open.

The shower started running. “You better, since you made the mess anyway.”

Jonghyun didn’t need to be told twice.

*

Patient 508 had heart disease. Kibum looked over his clipboard. He was fifty and a chain smoker. Under his medication, the physician had prescribed an antiarrhythmic drug, quinidine.

With his gloves on, he fixed a syringe. The patient wasn’t on good terms with his family. His son, a lanky guy just a year younger than Kibum, came around once a week for twenty minutes, and that was it. He even spent more of his time talking to Kibum than talking to his father; apparently they had a falling out a few years back and any olive branches Chanyeol offered were continually rejected by his father. Still, he kept trying, which was a lot more than anyone could say for his siblings. Kibum liked him; Chanyeol was a struggling model, smiled a lot and had a lot of the same interests Kibum did. Patient 508 spent most of his time watching TV, reading the newspaper, complaining about democrats and about gays ruining the sanctity of marriage during the day. Once, the man had looked at him and said, “I hate my life. Sometimes, I just want it all to end.” Then a smirk spread onto his face. “But being alive keeps my children off from their inheritance, so I’ll hang on the darndest I can.” He’d then begun a long diatribe about money and ungrateful brats until Kibum had to excuse himself to check his other patients.

He injected 1,000 mg of quinidine into the IV.

He looked over at the man, fifty and a chain smoker. His hair was speckled with gray.

“And now, there’s no life to hate.” He whispered, words softly floating through the air as he calmly stored the used items in his pockets on his way out of the room.

Two minutes later, the heart monitor in room 508 beeped a straight line.

*

It was on the news the next morning. The club owner was interviewed briefly, his bewildered and angry face on screen. Kibum felt a little sympathy for him, because it was bound to affect his business. Unless people wanted to go and be at a club where someone was killed because it was “cool.”

The reporter was back on screen. She interviewed Detective Choi Minho, working in the Homicide Department of the NYPD, a tall good-looking guy with brown hair that fell to his neck and dark brown eyes. He mentioned that the victim still had not been identified and was missing personal possessions. It could very well be a robbery gone wrong.

And Lord knows that happened every day.

“Good call with the wallet,” Jonghyun said through a mouthful of cereal.

“Chew your food,” Kibum said, hooking his knees over Jonghyun’s legs on the sofa. Jonghyun placed his bowl of cereal on Kibum’s pyjama clad knees.

They continued to watch the news as the show reported it as a homicidal robbery, although that wasn’t the official statement from the police. Kibum hoped that the obvious deadly wound would stop them from doing a tox screen.


*

“Death has a certain kind of beauty to it, doesn’t it?”

A shrug. “I guess so.” Jinki looked at the body on the metal slab. Her skin was cold and gray. There were bags under her eyes. He zipped up the body bag. She was heading to the crematorium. “At least she’s at peace now.”

“Peace, synonymous to quiet, tranquility.” Kibum said. They put the bag in the cabinet. The mortician came every night at ten. ”There is nothing, not even that, once you die.”

Jinki shrugged. “That depends on the religion you subscribe to, doesn’t it? She’s Catholic, so she and her family must think she’s going to heaven, where she’ll finally be at peace.”

“Religion is nothing but a way to control the masses. Or maybe have someone that you can blame to make you feel better about things that didn’t happen or about things that did.”

Jinki’s eyebrows rose.

Kibum finished scribbling on the patient’s file. “I’ll head to administration to file this, shall I?”

The steel door closed behind him.

*

“Ah, Nicole’s mother died today.” Kibum said, taking a bite of moo shu pork. They were in Kibum’s apartment, like always. Jonghyun’s flat was a sore topic for both of them, Kibum insisting that after almost a year together, he should have at least glimpsed his boyfriend’s place. Jonghyun wasn’t ready for Kibum to find what he inevitably would should he enter Jonghyun’s flat.

“Nicole’s your new friend at the hospital right?” Jonghyun asked, shoveling noodles into his mouth.

Kibum nodded. “Her mother got admitted a couple of months ago. She was really suffering.” He looked at a point over Jonghyun’s shoulder, eyes wistful, tiny hint of a smile on his face. “It was a relief to be able to help her along. To help her get over the pain.”

This wasn’t the first ‘my-patient-died-today’ story Jonghyun had heard. They’d been together a year, and without fail, there would be one or two of those stories a month. Now that really wasn’t strange, because in Kibum’s line of work, people died everyday. But the smile Kibum got when he talked about it...

“Are you meeting up with Nicole soon?” Jonghyun asked. This was how Kibum’s stories usually ended.

Kibum blinked at him. Jonghyun wondered if he imagined the surprise and wariness in his eyes. “Yeah, next week.”

Silence.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Kibum asked. His tone was teasing, but there was a tightness in his jaw.

Jonghyun shook his head. He asked more questions about Nicole’s mother. Kibum recounted her cancer and suffering, then finally her death, unable to hide the small spark in his eyes, even as he tried to control his facial expression. Jonghyun nodded at the correct moments, not missing the fact that in all of his stories, Kibum was the last hospital staff his patients saw before they passed. Then, because he wasn’t really one to beat around the bush--and he couldn’t think of a way to skirt around the issue, he asked: “Do you kill your patients, Kibum?”

Kibum froze, chopsticks in midair. In a second, a smile was on his face, eyes tight. “What are you talking about, Jonghyun?”

“Do you... help them to ease their suffering?” Jonghyun asked. He set his utensils down and looked at Kibum straight in the eye. “Permanently.”

Kibum was flipping through scenarios in his head, heart racing. He’d been doing this for a while and he hadn’t raised the suspicions of anyone at the hospital. Had he gotten too careless with Jonghyun? He had a couple of drugs in his bedroom but the thought of using them on Jonghyun made his heart twist. There was a table between them and there was no way he could overpower Jonghyun, or have enough time to get his equipment before Jonghyun left.

And he had hesitated too long to lie. He could try but he had no doubt that Jonghyun knew him enough to tell.

He breathed in. “Only when they say they want to die.”

“Oh.”

He should have stopped, but his mouth kept moving. “Or when they came in because of a suicide attempt. Or if they ask me to make the pain stop.”

A small smile was forming on the corner of Jonghyun’s mouth. “That’s’ a lot of ‘or’s.”

Kibum blinked at him. Jonghyun wasn’t running away and made no movement that indicated he wanted to call the cops or a mental institution. Should he be worried?

“We should go to my flat later.” Jonghyun said conversationally. As if they hadn’t been talking about Kibum killing. As if Jonghyun’s flat wasn’t the biggest thing they had been arguing over for months.

Kibum was instantly weary. “Why?” Was it a trap?

Jonghyun smiled at him, teeth flashing. “I think you’ll like it. You’re not the only one who’s keeping secrets.”



They put the dishes away like usual, Kibum washing and Jonghyun drying. Jonghyun reiterated the offer to go to his place.

“I’ll just grab my sweater.” Kibum said. Once in his bedroom, he opened the bottom drawer of the end table next to his bed. He lifted the false compartment and grabbed the vial of succinyl choline and injection. He stared at the packages in his hands, not wanting to open the drug and make it ready for use. One shot would paralyze Jonghyun--paralyze everything, his muscles and ability to breathe. He’d die slowly.

Fuck. He shoved both items in pocket, hands shaking. The thought of Jonghyun dying, of killing Jonghyun, made him sick. If Jonghyun showed signs of turning him over along the way to his flat, he’d do it. But not before then.

Kibum liked choosing who lived or died. He reveled in the power of it. He didn’t expect to ever be in a situation where death was not a choice he wanted to make.

If Jonghyun sensed his unease on the way to his place, he didn’t mention it. Kibum’s only seen Jonghyun’s flat from the outside, and was mildly relieved when they parked in front of the building. Jonghyun seemed a little nervous now, swallowing and fumbling with his keys. The lock clicked.

“Kibum-ah?” His hand was on the doorknob.

“What?”

Jonghyun bit his lip. “Nothing.” He took a deep breath and reached for Kibum’s hand. “Let’s go.”



Jonghyun told him all about his pastime as they took a mini-tour in Jonghyun’s work room. Kibum blinked around in shock, slowly processing the information. One thing was for sure: Jonghyun wouldn’t be reporting him to the police anytime soon.

“I enjoy killing. It makes me feel good.” Jonghyun admitted, hands in his pockets. “Is it the same for you?”

Kibum thought about it. “It gives me pleasure to be the one who ends their suffering. I love it when I get to choose who dies and who lives--where’s your God now?”

“The rush you feel when you decide that it’s all over for them.” Jonghyun said, looking straight into Kibum’s eyes. He stepped closer.

“Fuck, yes.” Kibum closed his eyes, remembering the feeling. Jonghyun’s hands slipped around his waist.

The corner of Jonghyun’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “What a pair we make.”

Kibum opened his eyes. Jonghyun was right in front of him, hands meeting around Kibum’s back. Kibum placed his arms on Jonghyun’s shoulders--easy feat to do, as he was taller. “I think we’re the perfect combination.”

Jonghyun’s grin was feral. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”


The fucking that happened next was the best sex Kibum had ever had. He told Jonghyun so, at the risk of further inflating his boyfriend’s ego. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom and had settled for the couch--their clothes littering the hallway from Jonghyun’s work room, stains on the floor where Jonghyun had sucked Kibum off, the rest of their clothes leading to the couch. As expected, Jonghyun smirked. What Kibum didn’t expect was Jonghyun’s gentle kiss to his temple and his next words:


“Let’s move in together.”

*

It took one week before Kibum got called in for questioning. The officers were professional, stating he was there only because he was the last person the victim--John Williams--was seen talking to. He was asked routine questions about his background (deceased parents, grandmother in South Korea, living with his boyfriend of four years), his job, his health condition (no, he did not have a heart ailment. yes, you could get medications for that at the hospital. why were they asking him this? oh, John was poisoned too? by some form of digitalis? what an unlucky guy.), his relation to John Williams (someone he met at a bar and bonded over seemingly failed relationships with. Yes, his boyfriend came back and they got back together.), what he was doing between twelve to four am that morning (dancing, visited Nicole Jung, had make-up sex with his boyfriend). He left Nicole and Jonghyun’s contact details with the police, confident at the way Detective Choi shook his head and muttered that Kibum’s build couldn’t have overpowered the victim.

Safe.

*

“No…” Tao said, limbs weak and body almost immobile. His eyes are half-lidded, trying to fend of sleep.

Xiumin looked up at Kibum, hovering over his friend’s side uselessly. He was in a white dress shirt today, the arms rolled up the sides. His eyes were red rimmed, palm engraved with nail marks from clenching his firsts.

“He's in a lot of pain.” Kibum explained. He picked up a large hypodermic needle from the tray, filled it and held it up to squirt out the air bubble. “The best we can do is to make him comfortable.” His heart beat fast in his chest, pleasure thrumming through his veins. He’d never done this before—killing right in front of the patient’s loved ones. But Xiumin was an all right guy, easy to talk to and trusting.


Xiumin nodded, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Tao looked at Xiumin, eyes wide and imploring. “I... don’t…” He rasped, his voice like sandpaper.


“It’s okay, Tao. They’ll help ease the pain.” Xiumin said soothingly, sitting on the visitor’s chair next to the bed.


“Pain… No… more… shot.” He gasped, coughing. Kibum swabbed his arm with a cotton ball.


“Yes, Tao. There’ll be no more pain when you get the shot.” Xiumin said, holding his hand. The sleeves of his shirt creased against the metal railings of the bed.


“No,” Tao rasped, eyes widening. “No… shot… pain.”


Kibum froze for half a second, then continued his ministrations, face impassive. Was it possible Tao knew what he was doing? He was a smart guy, after all, strong, quiet and observant. Strangely, the suspicion that he knew made Kibum’s blood rush in excitement.


Xiumin made soothing noises at him, patting Tao’s hand lightly. He looked at Kibum, eyes sad and resigned. Jinki had talked to them a couple of days ago, and Xiumin knew there was nothing left to be done and they could only make his roommate’s passing as comfortable as possible with the time left.


“He’s delirious.” Kibum said, just in case Xiumin would think that Tao was actually refusing the shot. Better to cover all his tracks. “This will help ease his pain.” Kibum placed the needle over his vein. Tao’s eyes widened in horror, hand squeezing Xiumin’s hand. Kibum bit back a smile as he gave the shot.

Pretty soon, he lay slack, heart rate slow. His eyes closed.

“We should let him rest.” Kibum said, looking at Xiumin. Xiumin nodded. He stayed put, holding on to Tao’s slackening grip. Moments later, the heart monitor beeped a single line.

Kibum attributed the death to Tao’s disease and the physician signed the death certificate. He smirked; he was definitely going to best Jonghyun this month. After all, this was the first time he killed in front of a witness.

*

Kibum arrived to hear the end of a tale about cheating girlfriends and girlfriends who used him for money. Key slipped onto a stool next to the man: he was tall, around his thirties, with dyed auburn hair.

Donghae nodded at Kibum. “The usual?”

“Please.” Kibum replied, side-eyeing the man. He was slumped over his whiskey glass, eyes slightly bloodshot. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up at the wrist, the cuffs bearing alcohol stains. “You okay?”

The man glanced at him, made a dismissive ‘I’m-fine’ gesture with his hand. “I hate girls.”

Kibum snorted and accepted his drink.

“You’ll find another girl, Leeteuk. Don’t worry.” Donghae said comfortingly before moving to the other end of the bar to serve Henry and Amber.

Leeteuk snorted. “Says the good looking bartender. I bet he never has girl problems.”

Kibum smiled at Leeteuk, sipping from his margarita. “I should think not, it’d piss his boyfriend off.”

Leeteuk blinked, looked at Donghae. “I did not expect that.”

Kibum laughed. “I’m Kibum.” He lifted his glass in a mock salute. “Good time to get drunk.”

“Leeteuk.” The man nodded at him.

Kibum sat and waited. He wasn’t disappointed. Two minutes later, while Henry and Amber were fooling around on the dance floor, Leeteuk was spilling his guts about his failed relationships and how he sometimes wanted to end it all.


Jonghyun stood outside, taking a drag of his cigarette, blowing circles into the cool night air. He stood under a streetlight, the club’s music pounding behind him. Taemin was talking to a tall guy who vaguely resembled him by the entrance.

“Hey there,” A girl with dark wavy hair called out to him, short skirt printed with colorful stars, jean vest over a white graphic tee.

“Hi.” Jonghyun said shortly, looking over her.

“I’m Krystal.” She said, standing next to him. “Can I bum a fag?”

Jonghyun wordlessly offered her a stick, then his lighter.

“Thanks.” She said, lips closing around the stick. She stepped closer, ran her fingers down his arm. A slight sting as her manicured fingers raked his skin, fingers closing around his wrist. “So, you interested?”

Jonghyun looked at her. She was pretty, great eyes and nice legs. He shook his head. Krystal shrugged, stepping away. She took a drag from the cigarette. “Suit yourself.”

Jonghyun slipped back into the club, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot.

*

The kitchen was always clean in their apartment, pots and pans in the cupboard above the counter, stove spotless, dishes in the china cabinet. Across the sink was a black refrigerator, with magnets of places they’ve visited—separately and together—all over the front. There’s a picture of Kibum eating ice cream on his twenty-second birthday, spoon in his mouth and hair tousled, chest exposed; there’s one of Jonghyun singing in a bar four years ago, skinny jeans and colorful shirt, under which Kibum has written when we first met; and a piece of paper held up by a smiley-faced magnet:



The silverware on the countertop reflected the light from outside, the sun’s rays coming in through the horizontal slots on the window. Kibum was sitting on the wooden chair at the head of the table, back to the fridge, sketching aliens on a piece of paper. Jonghyun stood at the counter, knife in hand, plump watermelon in the other.

“Do you think there’s a place people go to after they die?” Kibum asked, chin on hand. “Like, heaven or hell or purgatory.” One of the aliens was standing in front of tall gates, wearing a halo, key around his neck, and a list of names. The other stood outside the gate, carrying bags marked with dollar signs, one arm extended to give the money.

“Yes.” Jonghyun sized the watermelon, placed it on the cutting board.

“Why?” Kibum asked, tone curious.

“Because,” Jonghyun paused, knife penetrating the thick skin of the fruit. “I like that I’m sending them off somewhere.”

“I don’t think there’s anything after you die.” Kibum said, blinking at Jonghyun. “I think people just made those places up to make themselves feel better. There’s nothing after death.”

The knife banged on the cutting board. The watermelon piece dropped shortly, juice oozing from the side.

Kibum uncrossed his legs, pen dropping on the table.

Jonghyun speared a bit of the watermelon with a fork, sat on the corner of the table next to Kibum, one hand with the fork and the other with the hefty watermelon slice. He held the fork out to Kibum, fruit first. “We can agree to disagree on that.”

Kibum rolled his eyes, said, “Sit on a chair, you ruffian,” but opened his mouth anyway. The watermelon was sweet, cold and juicy. Perfect for a summer day.

Jonghyun bit from the fruit, juices running down his chin. Key made a face at him and reached for the fork. Jonghyun batted his hand away, speared a bit of the red fruit with the fork and fed him again.

“I’ll win this month,” Kibum said, smiling.

“Ooh, cocky.” Jonghyun said. He stopped feeding Kibum. “Have you done it?”

“Yeah. And his roommate watched me do it.” Kibum grinned, poking Jonghyun for more fruit.

Jonghyun stared at him. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah.” He took a bite of the proffered watermelon, closing his eyes, relieving the memory. “Jonghyun, I haven’t felt like that in years. Not since the first time we started the competition three years ago. It was thrilling, knowing he could see me but didn’t know what I was doing. It was like killing for the first time all over again.”

Three years ago, they’d bought a real house together. Kibum had a decent paying job and knew how to save while Jonghyun had a hefty trust fund, so money wasn’t a problem. They’d chosen a house in Queens with a garage for their cars, basement for Jonghyun’s work room, an extra room to serve as Kibum’s art room. Three years ago, they decided to make a competition out of their favorite common hobby. It happened thrice a month, with prizes for the winner at every win; the one with the most wins at the end of the year got to choose where and when they went for vacation the coming year, while the loser paid for their expenses.

Kibum grinned, opening his eyes. “So, how was your hooker for the week?”

Jonghyun shook his head. “Compared to you, mine was boring. You win. You had an audience and you haven’t gotten caught. I don’t think I can top that.”

Kibum stood and marked his win on the paper tacked to their fridge. “I want to do that again.”

Jonghyun shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.” He ate a piece of watermelon.

“And for my prize...” Kibum stood between Jonghyun legs, lips pursed in a thought. Jonghyun trapped Kibum’s hips between his knees, looking up at his boyfriend’s face. “I’d like the leather bonds and the cock ring for you tonight.”

“Okay,” Jonghyun replied easily, hand closing around Kibum’s nape and dragging him for kiss. “You getting away with murder with a witness is so hot, you don’t even know.” Hands opened the buttons on his shirt, lips dragging across his neck.

Kibum’s hand had found its way to the bulge in Jonghyun’s jeans while Jonghyun nipped at his collarbone, thumb rubbing against his nipple. “I think I get the idea,” he said breathlessly, smiling.

*

_{[part 2]}