25^th March 2013, Monday

The silence immediately after is light and calm, like a mother’s gentle embrace quietly enveloping him, whispering promises of a better tomorrow.  A soft palm presses against equally soft cheeks. Fingertips gently ghost over cherry lips, lightly skittering over the ends which curled up.  Warm hands slip into cold ones. A quiet press of lips against a smooth expanse of creamy white forehead.

28^th March 2013, Thursday

Kris doesn’t expect the prime suspect of their murder case to look so, well, to look so much like a model student.

Do Kyungsoo is all wide eyes and pink-hued cheeks, uniform ironed to a crisp, shoes polished till they gleamed. He sits prim and proper, with his back straight and all, eyes only looking at the blackboard in front where rows of Mathematical equations are scribbled over in neat white chalk.

Kris narrows his eyes. He knew better than to be fooled by appearances. Knuckles cracking, his deep voice crackles over every single walkie-talkie, “Operation 280313, we’re going in.”

When the door swings open and a draft starts to blow in, Jongin thinks that it’s Luhan at the door wanting his help to kill the cockroach in his class again. Irritated, he snaps his head away from his thick math book to bark some reply at his colleague but instead, he’s greeted with two tall men, clad in blue. 

Jongin can’t even say so much as a “yes?” before the taller of two, with thick slanted eyebrows, stalks in. “Head detective, Korean Police Force,” he says, voice husky and deep, large hands flashing a rectangular badge, gleaming as the lights strike it. Okay, Jongin thinks, police force, alright, cool, but why are you here?

Jongin can’t process what’s going on as the other police officer with a name badge reading ‘Tao’ walks over between the aisles of students. The silence is piercing.

“Officer?” Jongin says, attempting to take control of this situation, “did one of my students do something?” He gets a look that’s somewhat a cross between sympathy and condescension. This is ridiculous, he thinks as he scans his students’ faces. Curiosity, confusion, fear. He thinks that his expression most probably mirrors theirs because the officer is forcing one of his students to his feet and he can hear the clinking of handcuffs clapped around pale, bony wrist. Shrill, pulsating, excruciating waves of confusion.

“Do Kyungsoo, you are under arrest for murder.”

Large eyes, short brown hair, creamy pink-tinged cheeks.

Gasps, stares, murmurs.

Class Chair, scholarship awardee, valedictorian.

Chaos, disbelief, fear.

Bright smile, gentle behavior, helpful hands.

Cuffed wrists pressed behind back, face blank, legs shuffling against concrete floor.

Model student.

Murderer.

Chaos, the classroom is in chaos. The students seated beside and behind Kyungsoo’s now empty table scramble to their feet, rushing to the ends of the classroom. Their chairs topple and the thud is an iron-wrought chain around Jongin’s neck, squeezing tighter and tighter till all the air is ruthlessly stolen from his shriveling lungs.  Babbles of high-pitched “oh my god”s and “he’s a murderer”s tear at his insides and Jongin can’t help the roar that rips his throat, “everyone shut the up!”

A single chalk clatters to the floor.

This has got to be a mistake, a tiny voice at the back of his head chants, this is definitely a mistake. Jongin is completely aware of the full weight of the piercing stares of thirty students on his sweat-drenched back as he runs out of class.

Kyungsoo doesn’t resist as the tall male with scary dark hair and even scarier eyebags the shade of Torture and Terror loops a strong arm around him and half-forces him out of class. The cold from the handcuffs are scalding his wrists and the metal is chaffing his skin. He winces as the police officer presses a little too hard on his back as they walk (or rather, stumble) down the hallway. “So this is Do Kyungsoo, huh,” the one with scary eyes say, inspecting him with a look that makes Kyungsoo’s insides shrivel up. He feels like he’s a caged animal on exhibition at the local zoo.

“Stop it, Tao,” a deep husky voice says. This man is slightly taller than Tao, with slanted eyebrows that make him look angry. He looks intimidating as he towers above Kyungsoo, eyes skimming over every inch of his body. “He has the right to remain silent, remember?” Kyungsoo’s eyes lock with Kris’ and his breath hitches involuntarily, gaze hurriedly flitting away to fix on the concrete floor, lips pressed into a thin line.  Tao grumbles a little and his hold on the 18 year old’s arm tightens a bit. “Move,” he orders and Kyungsoo complies, face settling back into a blank expression.

More police officers appear round corners and blind spots as the trio march down the hall. It looks like a scene right out from a blockbuster action movie with their tightly laced boots, guns strapped to the band of their black leather belts and bullet proof vests. Kyungsoo hates those kind of movies;  they give him migraines.

Kris catches sight of their prime suspect closing his eyes as the increasing larger group trudges out of the school towards the waiting police car. A sure display of guilt, he thinks. A smile flits over his lips even before he can stop. We’ve got this in the bag for sure.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Kris says to Tao as the door of the vehicle flings open and Tao nudges Kyungsoo into it.

Jongin’s white long sleeved shirt is soaked through with sweat. Murmurs of “”s leave his lips in a raspy whisper as he jogs down the long hallways. The whitewashed walls are too clean. The lockers are too polished. The damn hallway is too long. This school is too big for its own good.

He finally sees them, a huge group of uniformed man and a poor teenage boy, face blank, but tiny cuffed wrists pressed against his back shaking ever so slightly.  Kyungsoo is lead towards the car and Jongin shouts before his brain can even plan for a proper plan, “you can’t take him away like that!”

All eyes are on him. Him, Kim Jongin, the Math teacher and homeroom teacher for Class 7. Him, standing 5 metres away from the authorities, drenched in sweat, face red, shoulders heaving. Him, Kyungsoo’s teacher.

Kris sighs. There’s always someone like this on every case they get assigned to. He gestures to Tao and the younger takes a quick look at the man before them before nodding stiffly and nudging Kyungsoo into the car.

“Sorry Mister, but I’m afraid we can.”

“No I think you’re mistaken, this boy, he’s angel. He wouldn’t do something like this, you can come and take a look at his grades and conduct reports, I have them stored somewhere on my desk. This boy is my star student, he—“

“Mister, I understand that this might come to a shock to you but—“

“What proof do you have?” Jongin snaps. The officer looks visibly displeased at being interrupted but he draws a deep breath and replies with a calm tone.

It’s confidential. But there’s enough evidence so far to warrant an arrest. Yada yada.

Kris does not like this teacher in front of him with his fiery glares and sharp tongue. Kris is the Head Detective, he can send this insolent man to jail for being rude to a public servant, that he can.

“No listen to me,” the teacher is huffing, face red, “he’s my student, and I know my student. He’ll never do such a thing, heck, he wouldn’t even lay a finger on an ant, you hear me?”

Kris smiles a little because he’s heard this line way too many times. From grief-stricken parents of rapists, serial burglars, serial murderers. “this is my little boy, I’ve watched this child grow up, I know him best”, blah blah. Bull, really.

“I’m afraid it’s always the good ones that are the worst of the lot,” Kris offers. The teacher’s face is getting redder by the second.

Jongin wants to punch the smile off this police officer’s face. This is his student, what would he know about Kyungsoo?  He wouldn’t know about the boy who stayed back to help clean up the class. He wouldn’t know about the boy who tutored his classmates willingly whenever they were falling back in their studies. He wouldn’t know about the boy with his cheerful smiles, shy ways and simple but stirring speeches. He wouldn’t know about Kyungsoo.

He almost lunges at Kris, fingers ready to strangle all life out of him when he’s brought back to reality by a sharp tug on his arm. Junmyeon.

Don’t do anything rash, Junmyeon’s tightly pressed lips and knitted brows say to him.  Jongin bites back a snarky remark and softly shrugs his arm out of his colleague’s grasp. The vein in his hand is throbbing as a growl rasps out from his increasingly dry lips.

“I know my student, he would never do such a thing.”

This teacher is so deep in self-denial, he’s drowning already, Kris thinks to himself. He raises one thick eyebrow as he watches the paler teacher who appeared running and breathless half a minute ago knead circles into the red-faced teacher’s back.

“More often than not, we don’t really know much of a person as we thought we originally did,” he says, “we might be back if we need your assistance in this case. Till then, have a good day.” Kris watches as all the colour drains out of the teacher. He nods again before getting into the car. The door slams shut. Kyungsoo wriggles in his seat.

“Case closed,” Kris mutters under his breath, uncapping the last bottle of the energy drink and chugging it down his parched throat.

Jongin has never been this thankful for Junmyeon ever. He sits alone in the staffroom, cup of finished Frappuccino in his hands. Junmyeon is taking over for all his classes for today. Everyone is off to some schedule and it’s just Jongin and his Styrofoam cup with the whirring of the air-conditioner.

Luhan enters like a light breeze today. A gentle tap on his shoulder. Another cup of coffee placed on his table. Jongin dares himself to smile at him.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” the blonde finally speaks after a long while of silence, “Kyungsoo’s a nice boy, I’m sure this is a mistake.”

Jongin doesn’t reply but instead mutters, “everyone knows already, don’t they? All the students? Even the principal?”

“well, they did barge in without any prior notice,”

“very obnoxious, if I say so myself,” Jongin adds, gulping down the coffee before wincing because  everything is too bitter and too sweet today.

Luhan gives him a look of pity that makes Jongin feel even smaller than ever. “Well,” he begins to speak but the door opens and Junmyeon walks in. He shoots a look that orders, Luhan shut up. So Luhan does.

Jongin lets Junmyeon pat his shoulders while he mutters, “what evidence do they even have,” over and over again. Junmyeon smiles and says nothing but just gives comforting hums for replies. Jongin finds himself wondering why Junmyeon’s smiles are always so sad again. 

Please comment? I really want to hear constructive feedback ;u; (not to mention its a huge motivation;;)