Chapter 14

나는 나만금

He was less disoriented, compared to when he first came about, when Donghae opened his eyes a slit after God knew how long he was unconscious. This time, he was alone with no unfamiliar face – which he had loathed the moment he laid his eyes on – taking over his range of vision. But, he still felt both fresh and crust of blood caking a side of his face, some clung to his lash. Ignoring the numbing sensation, he lifted his head, letting it rest against the back of the chair he was left in, and took a good look around.

Distantly, he could hear the traffic from below, but, aside from a few honks and hoots of owl brought by the wind, he was surrounded by an eerie chill. The building he was in was unfinished, most probably abandoned years ago. It was a skeleton of rebar, steel columns and concrete floor. There was a set of concrete staircases to his far left and he could see the hues of the sky as the sun had begun to set. It was a nice, almost romantic view laid out in front of him, if not considering the circumstances he was in. Alas, he could not see what was behind him, but he summed up that he was near the middle of the open floor and, without a doubt, a few stories high enough that a jump would be fatal.

Donghae focused back on himself. He was propped up against the wooden chair he was on by the ropes wound tight around his chest. His eyes trailed the ropes that seemed to come from his back, which dangled in two arcs by each of his side and led to his wrists, tied to the arms of the chair. The ends of the roped were knotted dead. It was not too thick, but the tightness made breathing a little harder and his hands were going numb and deathly white.

With that final self-assessment, Donghae ran out of things to keep him distracted from the thoughts of his husband. Hyukjae was safe, damn it! If he was the one tied up here, than that meant Hyukjae was out there, protected by the police, and he would make the necessary call to help Donghae, hopefully without endangering himself. But the words of his kidnapper rang through his head.

Hyukjae was under close watch, but Donghae was not. It was impossible to have a sound chance where the kidnapper could get his hands on Hyukjae again, but not Donghae. Thus, the alternative was to take what was laid open and used Donghae as a ticket to his husband. The main target was Hyukjae and he was the bait to get him here.

Donghae was knocked out cold after he squirmed and yelled for Hyukjae, but he could guess that threats on his life were made and he direly hoped Hyukjae would know better than to come find Donghae himself.

With nothing but worry cloaking his mind, he hung his head down, nauseated and exhausted. It might be a concussion that made him feel sick, he thought nonchalantly. The hit to his head was hard enough that it took away his consciousness. Appreciating the solitary, he shut his eyes and wished to remain undisturbed for a while longer.

The serenity did not last long.

All of a sudden, his hair was fisted and pulled back, aggravating the cut near his hairline and causing his lips to part in a silent gasp, and Donghae was shocked by the splashed to his face. His mouth caught the water and some when down his throat, bitter and burning, while some he coughed out. He did not hear anything or anyone approaching him – he was probably too out of it. He shook his head and glared right in front of him, to where a man – who seemed to be in his early 40s – stood, an empty cup in his hand. Through a veil of blur, Donghae noticed it was completely dark out, and the man’s features were only seen due to the street lights close to the building. Donghae flinched when the cup was thrown toward him, missing by a few inch to his right. Yet, he was not cowering away and looked straight at the man’s face once again.

“What do you want from Hyukjae?”

The man rolled his eyes, “I told you it’s none of your business. It’s not your… say… forte?”

Trying to unravel who the man was, Donghae baited, “You mean I’m not in your profession? Of course, I’m not a murderer.”

The growl that rumbled out passed the man’s lips were the only warning he had before a hand wrapped around his neck, tugging him slightly up, straining the rope around him and made it ten times harder to breath. Donghae could feel the muscled arm pressing against his chest. Then, the man spoke close to his face, his voice a contrast to his brute manhandling, “I’m not a murderer. Just that, your husband death will give me back my rightful place in my profession, as you called it.”

Putting two and two together, it was not hard to riddle out how the man was related to Hyukjae. And, Donghae was proud to say he knew his husband; Hyukjae would never take anything that was not rightfully and deservingly his. This man was a load of crap, talking about his husband that way! Baring his clenched teeth slightly, Donghae said, “Screw your denial; you’re not a good cook like my husband. You are nothing more than a murderer. Oh,” Donghae snorted, “You’re not even going to be a murderer, not a good one. My husband won’t die, not tonight, and definitely not by your hands, you dumb!”

The man’s hand tightened slightly before he schooled his features and let go of Donghae, backing a step away. Then, a plastic smile appeared on his face and once again, he used a kind voice, antagonizing Donghae even more, “The thing is, he is not going to die by my hands, Donghae,” his name sounded like an insult to his ear when the man used it, “Like before with the car, Hyukjae will die by himself. Only this time, he has a motivation to make sure he does get himself killed,” a chill went up Donghae’s spine before the next word left the man’s mouth, “You.”

“Do you know how much he loves you, Donghae? How Hyukjae practically radiated with joy ever since he was married to you? How excited he was to get you a bouquet for the second monthsary?” The man placed his hands on the rope wrapped around Donghae’s wrists, leaning closer, “It gave me this idea to use you. He will clearly do anything for you. Anything. Even after what you did to him,” Donghae looked into the man’s eyes, surprised by how much he knew, “Oh, I heard him tell Myungsoo about it. The sorrow and anguish just solidify how much he loves you, the more reason to go through with this. He will die for you, Donghae,” dread started cloaking him from all sides as the man continued, “You should feel honoured that you have such a loving husband, who will jump off this building so you can live,” Donghae had to look away as his breathing turned erratic, dark spots blinking in his vision, “But of course, I’ll make sure you will tell him right away that you feel that way, just a few seconds after he dies.” Through his panic, Donghae could feel something sharp against his skin, and when he looked down, the tip of a butcher’s knife was pressed to his stomach. “I thought of letting you jump at the same spot as he will. But,” he looked back up as the man growled and his voice turned harsher, “Since you insist of calling me a murderer, I’ll be one for you.”

Donghae had no time to react to the horrid words as he trembled in his seat and flinched when an echo of a shout rang through the open floor.

“Chef Yikyung!”

Donghae did not care if he got a whiplash when he turned to his left in a snap, though he regretted his action when his head ached, causing his eyes to blur.

“Donghae…”

His name was whispered, but the emptiness of the building echoed and amplified it along with the grief that leaked into Hyukjae’s voice. Blinking a few times, Donghae’s vision cleared and his eyes finally met Hyukjae’s, who stood mere metres away. A stray thought occurred promptly; did he look at Hyukjae the same way his husband was staring at him right now, with sorrow, guilt and helplessness, when he found Hyukjae that day in the car two months prior? Did he felt as much anguish as Hyukjae’s eyes were showing him right now? It seemed as if they changed shoes. Hyukjae was coming to help him while Donghae was the one bleeding slowly and seemed to be holding a ticket to death.

Donghae wanted to call him, wanted to smile, to yell at him for coming here. Didn’t he know what it meant when someone threatens you with your loved one? That clearly he was the one who would be targeted? Idiot! But, before he could utter a word, the knife against his stomach made itself known once again and Donghae gasped as he could feel his skin broke under the pressure. Donghae could see that one eight of the knife was now embedded in him, enough to cause superficial bleeding, but surely not death. Not yet, he knew. Unless he had lost too much blood.

“Don’t! Please, you want me, not him!”

“That’s right, Hyukjae,” Yikyung, as Hyukjae called him, tugged the knife out as abrupt as he had ed it in, leaving Donghae gasping quietly.

His concussion was getting worse, Donghae realized, as he found it hard to focus. In fact, he felt almost delirious.

“Strip, now.”

Is someone really stripping? I hope Hyukjae is… Wait! No. No, my husband shouldn’t be stripping here. There’s someone else here. Someone bad. No! Hyukjae, stop.

“There? There’s nothing on me. I come here alone, like you asked me to. So, like you said, you won’t hurt him if I follow what you say,” Hyukjae sounded far away. Too far, Hyukjae. Come closer.

Donghae forced his eyes opened and he saw Hyukjae walking around him slowly, wearing only his pants with his hands up and looking somewhere over Donghae’s head. Hyukjae, look at me and me only... Hyukjae’s eyes flickered down to Donghae for a half second.

“Why are you doing this?”

Donghae cocked his head to the side. Do what, Hyukjae? I’m just sitting here. Where is here, anyway?

“That may be the alcohol, alongside the concussion he had, talking.” a hand covered his mouth then, and Donghae fought, gaining a little more controlled in his addled brain. He knew, no matter how foggy his mind was, Hyukjae needed to be away from here and stop moving closer to the edge of the floor. The hand over his mouth forced his head to stay upright against the back of the chair.

“Surprise it’s me, Hyukjae?” came the voice so close to Donghae’s ear, but he could not turn his head any way to look at him, “Well, I guess you losing your memory was a good thing for all of us. If only it was permanent, then we all have nothing to worry about. But then you started remembering and wanted to get back to the job. You made me do this to you.”

Donghae’s eyes were trained on Hyukjae, who now stood a few feet in front of his chair, “Let go of my husband, Chef Yikyung. Then, we will talk and I will do what you want.”

The hand left Donghae, letting him slump forward. Hyukjae, don’t do it.

“Why did you try to kill me?” strangely, there were tremors in Hyukjae’s voice as he spoke, but Donghae could feel something was not right with his tone. It was made up and not natural. Said the guy who had his head busted twice today, anyway.

“You shouldn’t have come back, Hyukjae. You shouldn’t have work at the restaurant, at my restaurant. I was the sous chef, I was second in command. For eight years I worked under your mother, from a kitchen helper to where I am. Then, you came out of nowhere and she easily declared you as a new sous chef and will be in charge of the kitchen whenever she’s not around. You, who had no experience, no rights,” Yikyung spat out with so much loathe. He was still too close to Donghae.

“So, I planned to lead to your death. Just lead. I wouldn’t be the one to kill you, I’m not a murderer,” Yikyung chuckled, dark and almost manic, “You husbands think the same way, don’t you? If you had died, it would be the gas that suffocated you, not me. How does that made me the murderer?”

Donghae snorted and, without looking up, said, “Well, that’s sweet, with the praise to both of us. But, any sane person – not you – will call you a murderer.”

“I’ve had enough of you!”

Suddenly, Donghae’s left middle finger was grasped, and he could hear Hyukjae’s hasty steps and cries of ‘no’ and ‘don’t’.  He felt the sensation of pins and needles as the finger was forcibly curved back after so long of no blood circulation.

“I won’t kill him, no. But, maybe this can keep him quiet and make you start doing what you are supposed to, Hyukjae.”

Donghae tried to fight it, he really did. He tried to curl his finger inward, but he was so tired already, and his mind was fuzzy.

“You know fingers are important for us, right Hyukjae? For your husband here, I bet it’ll crash his dream to have broken fingers, don’t you agree?”

Snap!

Donghae’s howl was animalistic. He couldn’t form a coherent thought and the only thing clear in his mind and all his senses was pain, pain, pain! He didn’t hear the gasp coming from Hyukjae, the only thing ringing in his eardrums were the snapping of bone. He could not even feel the lone tear running down his face.

“Please stop. No. Don’t do anything to him anymore, please.”

“Oh, but that felt good. I’m surprised it did. I should try again, no?” the awe and wonder, almost childlike, in Yikyung’s voice was hard to miss, causing an alarm to turn off in Donghae’s brain and he gritted his teeth, bracing himself as much as he could, “Hm… how about this time, it’s his ring finger? Let’s see how beautiful your wedding bend will look from a different angle.”

Donghae was at a loss of word, and another one of his finger was roughly held and curled back. This time, he closed his eyes and did not try to stop it, wishing it would lessen any pain that was forthcoming.

“No! Please. I beg you. Anything, I’ll do anything! I’ll kill myself if you want me to, but please!”

“Well, jump, then.”

Donghae snapped his eyes opened and held Hyukjae’s gaze with his own, a whispered ‘no’ left his lips. No, Hyukjae, don’t. He shook his head, “Don’t, please. It’s okay,” Donghae’s voice was just above a whisper, “I’m okay! Let him. Don’t jump.”

Beside him, Yikyung shrugged, the manic glints still prominent in his eyes, “Well, suit yourself. We can all stay here and watch me figure out why it feels good to snap all these bones. Hyukjae,” he called excitedly, “This feels better than taking apart a whole chicken piece by piece. This one screams.”

His ring finger was tugged backward once again and Donghae curl his right hand into a fist and stemmed his feet to the cold concrete floor beneath his feet. Funny how only in this moment did he realize he was barefoot, after his fingers were threatened to be broken.

“No. I’ll jump. I’ll jump! Just step away from him!”

Yikyung stood up, letting go of the finger, “Ah, too bad. But, go on, then. Let’s end this.”

Donghae watched in horror as Hyukjae climbed to his feet – he did not noticed when his husband had dropped himself to his knees, begging for Donghae to be spared – and stepped closer to him only to be stopped by the butcher’s knife that once against was pressed against Donghae.

“Just let me say goodbye, one last time.”

Yikyung must have agreed – Donghae did not know, he did not have any brain to spare for him – as Hyukjae then crouched in front of him, his hands on Donghae’s tied ones. The pins and needles sensation was back, grounding him to the reality, to the pain from where his heart felt as if it was being shredded. No, Donghae wanted to say, I just got you. I can’t lose you too, not again, not this way. Yet, no words spilled from his mouth at that moment as he stared at Hyukjae.

Hyukjae, who smiled at him with his most beautiful smile, who held his hands with tender and care, minding the mangled finger. Hyukjae, who was his husband, his reason to live. Hyukjae, who placed a hand against Donghae’s cheek, caressing him softly, before he closed the distance between them and let his lips slid against Donghae’s, kissing him with all he was worth, even when Donghae did not kiss back.

Hyukjae, who whispered to his lips, “Donghae, we need to talk, okay? We’ll talk soon. I promise.”

Hyukjae, who kissed him once more, before he stepped away and head to the right, to the edge of the building.

In the next moment, he was gone and Donghae felt something inside him gave away, broke apart, and bleed, bleed, bleed, as he clenched his wedding cufflink which had Hyukjae’s initials engraved on it in his numbing hand.

The first time they met, Donghae left his initials on a drawing for Hyukjae. Now, for the last time, Hyukjae left his in Donghae’s palm.

***

It was hard for him to take the leap off the building, even when Hyukjae knew, he was not about to lose Donghae, he was not going to die. The tall, inflated mattress down below made sure of that. But, as he stared into Donghae’s eyes, begging him to not go anywhere, his lungs tightened, leaving him with barely enough air. He was not going to die, but Donghae did not know that. Even after Hyukjae’s words and the cufflink he silently placed in his husband’s cold hand, he knew the chances for Donghae to figure out the plan would be minimal.

Donghae lost his brother due to suicide; he suffered more than a decade because of it, still smothered by the horror until now. Hyukjae knew this would be a setback for his husband and wished to spare anymore torment on his psyche. Yet, he could not let Yikyung continue breaking Donghae that way, fracturing those fingers and shattering the magic they could do. Fingers that were as beautiful as that drawing that he kept safe for so many years.

So, confirming that Yikyung was a few steps behind him, and far enough from Donghae, Hyukjae shut his eyes, nodded once to the men waiting at the ground, and stepped off the building. The wind rushed pass his ears and his hair whipped for a second before he landed, safe, with no harm. Not physically, anyway. He rolled off the mattress with the help of a few officers and watched as a squad crept up the stairs, having no other choice besides to wait.

A blanket was draped over his shoulder and two women from the emergency unit tried to gently guide him to the ambulance waiting, but Hyukjae refused to budge and planted his eyes on stair, waiting for Donghae to emerge, safe, from there. He was getting restless on his feet as second ticked by and changed to minutes. His hand was halfway to his lips when he saw people coming down.

Yikyung was in handcuffs between two men. The man sneered at Hyukjae but there was no time to spare him even a glance as Donghae stepped of the stairs, Detective Kim Youngwoon and Kim Heechul flanking his sides.

Hyukjae watched as every step seemed to bring a new wave of pain to Donghae and he could not hold himself back any longer. He ran, pulling the blanket off and wrapped his arms around his husband. When the two detectives stepped away to give the some spaces, Donghae slumped against him, causing Hyukjae to stagger a few steps back. But, he held on tight and placed the blanket over Donghae and kissed the side of his head.

“You didn’t leave me.”

The words were soft against his ear and Hyukjae finally let a few tears dropped as he smiled and ran his hand over Donghae’s back.

“No, of course I didn’t. I told you we need to talk and we will.”

“Please don’t stop talking.”

Hyukjae shook his head, lightly guiding Donghae’s head to rest against his shoulder. He did not mind the fact that Donghae did not – probably could not, yet – returned his embraced. “If you don’t want me to, then I won’t.”

“Do you know,” Hyukjae tilted his head to look at his husband, surprised to see a soft smile on his lips, “Most people are afraid when someone says they need to talk. But, when you say it, my heart flutters instead.”

Chuckling, Hyukjae placed his head on top of Donghae’s, “I think we need to get your head check before you stop telling adorable truth and start being horribly honest.” The giggled that came made Hyukjae’s heart almost bursting with love.

He smiled when Donghae lifted his head and stared at him, the trace of laughter gone in that moment, “Then, why don’t you be honest with me.”

“About what?”

“Do I deserve you? Now? After all this?”

Hyukjae would be lying if he said he was not startled by the abrupt question. But, answering it was easy, though, “Does it matter? I told you that I want you.”

“But I hurt y-”

“And you got hurt because of me, too, physically hurt. Does that mean I don’t deserve you? That I can’t have you? You don’t want me?”

“No!” Donghae shook his head and stumbled back, he was only standing because Hyukjae held him close, “Don’t be stupid, of course I want you. I just want you to be happy and if –” his words came out in a whine and Hyukjae, knowing the alcohol was still in fact, believed every word.

“Then forget what I deserve, forget what’s better for me. I want you and you want me and that makes me happy. We deserve a little happiness, right?”

Donghae finally wrapped his arms around Hyukjae’s waist and leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss before he rested his head on Hyukjae’s shoulder once against, a tiny chuckle slipping out as he said, “I guess we deserve that.”

And so, this story comes to its closing. I hope you excused all the evil things I did to our eunhae /winks/ I always aimed for it to be 15 chapters + prologue + epilogue, but we got here earlier than I wanted. Only an epilogue left to tie the knot. It took me more than a year to finish this story (started in December 2015 and now we're in 2017, which reminds me, HAPPY NEW YEAR!) and thank you to all who has taken this ride with me, whether from beginning or not. Your feedbacks, comments and reviews are very much loved and appreciated. None of you have any idea how many times I read through all the comments. Thank you, thank you, thank you! The next story I will be focusing on is If I Risk It All, with the hope that I'll see some of you there again. Is that wrong? Hehehe. One epilogue to go before we sign off. Anyway, any mistake made is mine and mine alone. This may not be a perfect story, but in the end, I hope it makes us all love eunhae a little bit more.