II. | Vulcanus.
Suicide Circle
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chapter two
vulcanus
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It was sometime a few years back— maybe three or so, when Jaejoong finally realised that he had no point in living anymore. He was adopted by a pair of parents that didn't know a thing about parenting. Mummy and daddy coddled their beautiful little boy, they spoiled him with money and love but it was never enough. He always wanted more.
Then that day came. 3:30 p.m. After school. September eleventh. A fifteen-year old Kim Jaejoong opened his parent's bedroom door to see a wondrous surprise. Mummy and daddy laid quietly on their bed. Sleeping? Nope. Mummy and daddy committed a double suicide, hoorah! Jaejoong still doesn't know why he didn't cry, or why he didn't tell anybody about their death. Mummy looked so pretty the day he found her lying there, he thinks that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his whole life. He remembers pushing his father off the bed and taking his place, lying beside his mother while he tenderly her cold cheek with his thumb. He also remembers watching movies with her, and eating popcorn, she even helped him with his homework— but then she started getting smelly, and her skin was peeling off, and the flies— so many ing flies.
So he had no family. He never liked women, or men either to be honest. A girl in highschool once told him that he didn't care about anyone except himself, so he rebutted, saying that he was in love with himself just to annoy her. And it got him thinking— maybe he was in love with himself. It sure did explain why he had never had a decent relationship, unlike most of the men his age.
A cheap apartment on the fifth floor of an even cheaper building complex is probably the most valuable thing Kim Jaejoong considers to be his. With a small, dirty bathroom that has strands of bleached hair stuck in the drains, and out-of-date prescription medication by the rim of the sink—"at least the toilet works"—he makes an effort of always saying to himself every time he walks in to wash the stench of alcohol and out of his pores. Open the door and take a few steps out, past the empty cardboard boxes, over the broken needles from that one time he tried—"only tried"—he also says to himself when taking the same route. This room here, this is his living room/bedroom/kitchen, well apart from the bathroom it's the only other room in his whole apartment. Empty rows of shelves, vacant cupboards, he's also had the same sheets on his bed for three, going on four months now. Jaejoong spends an unmeasurable amount of days waking up in the late afternoon, eating away at the money he has saved up to order take-out and buy two or three cups of coffee a day from the Starbucks down the street— I really need to pick up my life— he keeps reminding himself.
Lately Jaejoong keeps feeling like his insides are being hollowed out. Though, he can't tell you if this process was gradual or if it hit like a painful jab in the stomach, he can't give you a specific date, he just remembers that it happened when he was sleeping in his bed, when the snow flowed in through the window and left nothing behind but a thick moistness in the air, the kind that settled deep in your bones and weighed you down. He remembers waking up from that nap feeling weird. He was lonely.
Sometime after that, a week later, Jaejoong supposes, was when he met Luhan. If he's lucky, when the sun is really high, the rays of light shining in through the cracked window makes the younger boy a lot easier to see. He sits by the window, obliterating Jaejoong's view of the city's high rises, like a washed out, diaphanous mannequin. With a soft, pale white face framed by short honey-brown locks that would stop just at the tip of his ears— Jaejoong was wondering why in the world some pansy, some drag-queen lookalike like Luhan was doing in his room.
"Get out." He seethes. Luhan turns his head slightly towards Jaejoong's direction, staring at the 28 year old with gigantic hazel-brown orbs. Particles of dust were glimmering around his outline.
"I can't." His voice is airy, light, it's like the words float in the air for a few seconds before Jaejoong finally catches them, "I have to stay by you."
* * *
10:24; no. 13 Jonggak apartment complex.
It was Thursday morning when Jaejoong received that phone call. Back hunched against the frame of his bed, cigarette dangling in between two fingers and a half-eaten bag of stale salt and vinegar chips resting in his lap, he picked up his hand phone and pressed it up against his ear.
"Who's this?"
"Hello, I'm not quite sure if you remember me, but this is Byun Baekhyun, the chief of police. And I've got a case for you to solve."
"— Not interested."
* * *
10:26, Seoul Central Police Station— Byun Baekhyun's office.
Chief of police Byun Baekhyun put his phone down on the table and let out a deep sigh. "He's not accepting my offer." He said, Chanyeol could feel the pang of disappointment echoing through his voice.
The other officer Chanyeol had seen before— Kyungsoo, if he remembers correctly, was shuffling through a small pile of files, before pulling out one that was marked red and pushing in front of Baekhyun with a gentle smile. "He always was this difficult, boss."
From where Chanyeol was sitting, he could see the file layed out in front of Baekhyun almost clearly. And although he knew not to peak into other's people's business, he couldn't resist leaning over the table just a tiny bit so he could get a closer examination. The file was in bad condition, the paper was a light brownish color, and the edges had been crinkled— as if someone kept meddling with it, taking it out of it's folder and putting it back in consecutively. On one side of the paper there was a small photographic of a 20-something year old male with strong cheekbones and jet black hair that was swept to one side, like someone had blown his hair to the left and it magically stayed like that. Next to that, laid his personal details. Date of birth; January 26, 1986. Height; 180 cm, Blood type; O. Place of birth; Gongju, SK...
"Kim Jaejoong.." He muttered almost incoherently under his breath, but just loud enough for the chief of police to hear. "Was the best detective we had in our whole division." Baekhyun sighed, closing Jaejoong's file and pushing it towards the middle of the table. "He had a bad attitude, which made him bothersome to work with, but he was.. Well, a genius. Never failed a single case in the whole time he was working with us. Truly brilliant." The way Baekhyun spoke of this Jaejoong guy, made Chanyeol raise an eyebrow. He spoke of him as if he was a great friend that had passed away, someone that he truly missed.
"What made him leave?" Chanyeol couldn't help but ask, this was all so interesting. "We did," Baekhyun wagged a thin finger between him and his vice, Kyungsoo. "He took— takes things too far..." A pained look flushed through the young chief's eyes, but if faded away as soon as it was shown. "That's all I can tell you, my apologies. It's classified."
Park Chanyeol failed to hide the disappointment in his eyes, but before Baekhyun had any time to acknowledge it, the sound of heavy footsteps running through the corridor leading up to the room the three officers were in caught the chief's attention. "Boss! Boss! Boss!" Another police officer roared as the door flung open with a loud 'whoosh'. The red-faced officer Chanyeol knew as Sehun, stood in the door way for a few seconds before finally catching his breath, by this time both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo had both raised from their seats, a look of puzzlement fresh on their faces.
"T-the woman, " Sehun gasped, a hand encircling his abdomen. "She's here.. The one that tried to escape, we've found her!"
* * *
10:56, Seoul Central Police Station— interrogation room #3
The interrogation room was a small, mucky space that smelt like perspiration and broken futures. Three of the four walls were made of stainless steel, while the odd one out was made of glass— but that special kind of glass that allowed Chanyeol and Kyungsoo (who were standing behind it) to see into the small room, while the person being interviewed couldn't.— and in the middle was a circular grey table lined with a metal chairs on each side. In Chanyeol's opinion, it wasn't the coziest place to be.
Park Chanyeol rested his palm on the corner of the glass as he peered into the room, his brown eyes examining the woman on the other side. She had been cleaned up now; when he first saw her on the night of the incident, she was covered in blood, dirt and grime— but now, now she looked completely different. Vibrant blonde hair that would flow past her shoulder blades into softly tousled locks, legs that would go on for days, and skin as pale and glimmering as one of those famous models you'd see on magazines. She was the epitome of beautiful. But her eyes, oh they were her finest asset indeed. They were the icing to the cake, as one would say. Two giant brown, icy, emotionless globes that would stare back at you with that look— always, that look. Some of the police officers questioned her sanity, some even went to the extremes and called her possessed. But she was far from that. There was always something rather... 'Dead' about the girl who escaped death, Im Jinah.
* * *
03:13, Seoul Central Police Station— Byun Baekhyun's office.
"She won't tell me anything. She claims to have lost her memory." Baekhyun collapsed onto the seat, tossing the blank notepad onto the table in front of the three officers. The frustration the chief was experiencing was more than evident; it had been two and a half weeks since the mass suicide and for the first time ever, the police department had no leads. And just to make matters worse, the only potential lead they had— this Jinah girl— had forgotten all possible links to the event.
"We have no choice," Kyungsoo stretched his arms out until he heard a gentle crack, "We have to get Jaejoong to join us. For this case, at least."
"Do you think I'm not trying?!" Baekhyun snapped. Those 1,2,3,4,5 cups of cheap instant coffee was getting to him. He rummaged through the mess of empty mugs until he found one that looked full, circled his fingers around it and gave it a quick shake before letting out an exasperated sigh and throwing it back at the table. "Empty."
"Bribe him. Cars, money, women— we're the police force, goddamn it! We can provide him with anything!" Kyungsoo slammed his fist on the table, sending vibrations through the mess of empty coffee mugs and crumbled paper. If it wasn't for the current circumstances, he would've been dealt with severely in regards for talking back in the way that he did. But the fact of the matter was that everyone was tired, hungry, exhausted and just needed a good night's rest.
"He said he wants a permanent job here."
The whole room was bathed in silence.
Kyungsoo swallowed the rising lump that was forming in his throat, "Then... Then take the coward's way out. Give him a job, but terminate it a few weeks after. It's safer that way."
It was cold that night. The open window on the wall of Baekhyun's office was left ajar, sending chilling batches of snow, wind, and even sometimes leaves into the cluttered little space. His eyes were burning from sleep deprivation— 74 hours it's been— and he had far passed the stage where his body ached. Now, there's a white buzz in Baekhyun's head, his mind and body feel like they're being held up by strings. He's floating more than moving now, and he's had to repeatedly apologize in the past ten hours every time he's accidentality fallen over onto the even colder floor.
"Come on, boss. Just consider it. He can solve this. We'd just need to keep him closely monitored." Baekhyun pressed on his eyes for a few moments before sighing, "I'll tell him first thing in the morning."
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