He felt as if he was floating on a cloud.  His body hummed with pleasure as hot fingers brushed over his skin.  His ears roared with the loud thudding of his heart mixed in with the soft gasps of his partner. 

“I like that expression on you…” someone whispered in his ear.  He shivered as he felt pleasure blossom in his hips.  He couldn’t describe the feeling, only that he wanted more of it.

“Don’t,” he murmured even as he arched his back, “Why…”

“You’re wasted as a pilot…” he heard in his ear before he felt an eruption of pleasure in his core.  He gasped as he felt something soft brush against his nape.  A blinding light flashed before his eyes before the sound of something exploded in his ears.

What followed was a mixture of smoke, pain, and nausea.  In the midst of it all, a soft whisper floated to his mind…

“Go, you fool…”

Jongsuk jerked awake, his heart racing a mile a minute.  He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom as he reeled from the aftermath of a nightmare that had plagued him for years.  It began shortly after his trauma as a rookie pilot and has since surfaced regularly in his dreams.  And as usual, he awoke drenched in sweat, tears and dirty underwear. 

Sighing, he rolled out of bed and sat at the edge of it with his head bowed.  He could feel his hands shaking and his breaths coming in short gasps.  Running a hand through his sweat drenched hair, he slipped his feet inside his slippers and shuffled into the bathroom.  Flicking on the soft yellow light, he stared at himself in the mirror.

Dark circles rimmed his tired eyes; sleep had been elusive the past few days and it was catching up to him.  His morning stubble was already starting to appear, aging him at least a few years easily.  He had lost weight again; his cheeks were gaunt in the poor lighting and made him look sickly.  Sighing, he kicked off his soiled boxers and stepped inside the shower.  Turning on the hot water, he let it wash away the fatigue.

Over four years had passed since his plane was shot down.  He’d woken up in a hospital, physically broken and without his memories of the incident.  With time, his wounds healed and his body recovered but his mind remained as blank and fuzzy.  He visited psychiatrists, psychologists, shrinks, mentalists… he was sure his mother had him visit every single mind specialist in the city but not one had helped him regain his memory.  He is supressing it, they said.  He’s traumatized by something, they claimed.  He’ll get over it, they promised.  So, like a good boy, he waited. 

He was given an honorable discharge from the squad; they deemed him to be unfit, mentally, to fly again and so gave him an extended vacation.  The short-term vacation turned into long term… and eventually, he was discharged.  With nothing else to do, he tried to find a job.  But without any solid skills or background other than flying, he found himself working part-time jobs cleaning tables and bathrooms.  It added to his stress and, after a meltdown in the bathroom stall, he decided to quit. 

It was then his mother decided to move him back home.  It would be the best place for him to recuperate, she’d reasoned with him.  She could take care of him while he worked on remembering.  And so he did just that.  He left the small apartment he had been living in on his own and moved back in with his parents.  She took care of him and he tried to remember. 

At first, he was instantly thrown into a fit of headaches that left him trembling and curled up in pain.  It terrified him and made him want to keep the forgotten things buried for fear of more pain.  But as much as he was scared of his forgotten memories, he was scared even more of living a life without direction.  It propelled him to face his fears and soon, he could remember bits and pieces.  He remembered a homeless man, and a scar at the knee.  He remembered a closet and chocolate bread.  It was an improvement from where he’d started, but it wasn’t much.  Still, he decided to do everything he could.

He began searching images of scars to the knee.  He found out more about scars in general.  When that didn’t trigger anything, he began looking up closets.  After sitting inside his bedroom closet for hours and scaring his mother, he found that it, too, was useless.  There was only one thing left to do…

He found a part-time job at a bakery.  There, he learned as much as he could about baking and developed a love for sweet breads.  Chocolate bread, in particular, gave him a strange sense of nostalgia.  After working part-time for a year, he decided to try and open one on his own.  It was, after all, the only thing that triggered any kind of familiar emotion in him.  After two years of struggling, his tiny bakery had finally turned profits.  And, of course, his best seller was the selection of chocolate breads.

Jongsuk wiped the water from his face as he turned off the tap and grabbed the towel.  He felt much better after a hot shower; it seemed to work miracles every time he woke up in a fit.  Reminiscing his four years helped too.  It usually dissipated his sense of helplessness and gave him a more accomplished feeling.  He had progressed these past four years, even if it wasn’t quite at the speed that he thought he would.  He knew he should be grateful for any progress at all.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked over to the sink and pulled out his electric shaver.  Taking care of his stubble and drying his hair, he nodded at his reflection and gave himself a small smile.  He looked much better, especially with the absence of the stubble and a little more color.

He walked back into the bedroom and glanced at the clock.  It was nearly six in the morning.  A little early, but doing some prep work at the bakery wouldn’t hurt.  Shrugging out of the towel, he dressed himself and put some lotion on his face.  He walked back out into the kitchen and raided the fridge.  Since he moved out from home again a few months ago, he had to pick up cooking again.  Fortunately, he had some leftovers from the night before to help tide him over.  Throwing a few ingredients into a large bowl, he tossed it into the microwave and turned it on. 

He walked over to his daily planner and glanced at the day.  He had gotten into the habit of listing his things to do.  It helped take the burden off of having to remember off of memory.  After transferring the list onto his phone, he walked back into the kitchen and ate his breakfast.

The trip to the bakery took longer than usual.  Buses didn’t run yet so Jongsuk opted to go for a walk.  The air was crisp with the smell of spring and helped lighten his mood.  By the time he arrived and unlocked the doors, he was humming a soft tune and looking forward to the day. 

He had learned a few things about baking himself, even though he had designated bakers reporting to work in just a few hours, so he rolled up his sleeves and began to prep for the day.  Soon, the sun was high up in the air and the kitchen smelled faintly of butter and freshly baked bread. 

Jongsuk looked up at the clock; it was nearly nine.  And right on time, the bell over the front door rang as his baker for the day walked in with a smile.

“Oh,” the baker, Kim Goyun, said with a smile as she walked into the back kitchen, “You’re here early.  Wasn’t I supposed to open up shop today?”

“Mmn,” Jongsuk replied, setting the fresh batch of dough aside and dusting the flour from his hands, “I couldn’t sleep…”

“Again?” she called as she walked into the dressing room.  After a brief moment, she came back out dressed in her uniform and slipped her apron on.  “I thought you were sleeping easier,” she said as she washed her hands at the large sink, “Nightmare again?”

Jongsuk nodded shyly and walked over to the sink to join her.  She was the first baker he had hired when he opened up shop.  She was nineteen years older and fussed over him like a big sister.  Completely ignoring his boss status, she scolded him when he made mistakes and made him tea when was upset.  She was also the only person he had ever told about what he’d remembered of the incident.

“Anything new this time?” she asked, glancing at him before drying off her hands with paper towels, “Maybe some mousse cake to go with your chocolate bread or something?”  She nudged him lightly and winked.  “I saw a pretty girl on TV last night on a baking program,” she said, nodding, “She baked such a pretty cake… maybe we should try to recruit her and upgrade this place to include all those French sounding cakes?”

Jongsuk chuckled and shook his head.  “No cakes this time,” he said, leaning against the counter, “Just… the usual.”  He looked down at his hands and bit his lip.  He hadn’t told her about the man in his dreams, the owner of the deep and soothing voice in his ear.  He was sure it was a man and not a woman, even though he was sure his dream was ual in nature.  He had no idea what the explosion meant at the end but he wondered if it was the explosion the rescue team had mentioned.  They had found him near an explosion site after all…

“Well if it’s just bread,” she said, kneading some dough, “I’m all you need, sweetheart.  I’m not that bad looking myself, I’d say.”  She winked at him and blew him a flour kiss before walking over the fridge and pulling it open.

“I’m sure that’s what your husband thinks too,” Jongsuk said in amusement as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Damn right,” she said, blowing her bangs out of her face and bringing over a pack of chocolate icing, “I didn’t get much sleep last night either and it’s not because I’m an insomniac.” 

Jongsuk choked on his coffee as she sighed and began working on a fresh batch of chocolate bread.  He cleared his throat as he placed the cup on the counter and wiped his mouth. 

“I put the sign up,” he said, changing the subject to a less embarrassing one, “For a new part-timer.”

She grunted as she drizzled chocolate over some dough.  “I saw,” she said, “It would help to get some help in the kitchen for the morning rush.  I’m pretty amazing but I’m not Super Woman…” She paused and looked up at him with a raised brow.  “Although,” she said as-a-matter-of-factly, “I’m probably as close as it gets.”

Laughing with embarrassment, he walked over to the cooling rack and checked the batch of bread he’d made himself.  They had cooled enough to be placed outside in the shop on display.  Grabbing a tray, Jongsuk nudged through the door and out into the shop area.  He hummed quietly as he lifted the cover and took a spatula.  Slowly, he began transferring the cooled bread into the display case.

Behind him, he heard the soft tinker of the bell atop the front door ring again.  “Oh, Junhee-yah,” he said to his part-timer, without turning around, “You’re early too.  Can you get the till started and get some change out?”  Pausing mid transfer and balancing a half full tray with his hand, he turned to look over his shoulder.

To his surprise, it wasn’t his young part-timer that stood at the door.  Instead, a tall man stood in ripped jeans and a light leather jacket.  His dark hair was windswept and in his hand was a rolled up piece of paper.  His features were chiseled and his eyes were dark.  His lips were spread into a mischievous smirk that was oddly familiar.

Jongsuk felt as if everything fell silent.  He gazed at the tall handsome stranger as if time was at a standstill.  There was something about this person that made his hair stand on ends.  It was as if he was staring into eyes he had seen before; he felt his heart speed up as the stranger took a step forward.

“Nice place,” the stranger said, looking around and nodding in approval.

Jongsuk felt a shiver run down his spine as he listened to the man’s deep voice.  It… it was too familiar.  Finding his voice, he cleared his throat and tried to hide the sudden shake in his hands.  “We… we’re not open yet-” he said but the stranger interrupted him.

“This,” the stranger said, holding up the paper in his hands, “You’re hiring for a part-timer, right?” 

Jongsuk glanced at the paper; it was the sign he had put up.  He gazed back up at the stranger, his breaths now coming in short huffs.  What was wrong with him?  Why was he acting this way?  Why did this stranger have such… an impact on him? 

“Ah…” the stranger said, taking a few steps forward and stopping just short of Jongsuk, “Did you get something in your eye?”  Reaching forward, he cupped Jongsuk’s cheek and ran a thumb across Jongsuk’s left eye.

Jongsuk blinked at the sudden gesture.  He was surprised to find his cheeks wet.  Was he… crying?  What was happening?  Why did he feel as if he could break down and cry right then?  “Oh,” he said, taking a step back and laughing sheepishly, “Sorry, I must have…”

“You…” the stranger murmured, his smirk replaced with a soft expression, “You’re still the same.” 

Jongsuk felt his heart skip a beat as the stranger leaned in closer.  He felt his breath hitch as the tray in his arm wobbled dangerously.  His face where the stranger touched burned and he felt a strange snake of lust in his groin.  He felt both embarrassed for his completely inappropriate reaction and confused at who this stranger was.  It was as if… his body was used to this stranger’s presence.  Every fibre of his being seemed to become heightened with awareness and scream with a need to be touched.

“Looks delicious,” the stranger murmured, leaning even closer and pausing just a few millimetres away from Jongsuk’s lips, “The bread I mean.”

The tray fell to the floor in a clatter as Jongsuk staggered a few steps back.  As if his mind was on rewind, images flashed through his head at a dizzying speed.  He blinked and wobbled on his feet dangerously.

“Oh, careful,” the stranger said, taking a hold of Jongsuk’s arm, “You dropped all the bread.”  Sighing, he knelt down and began to pick them up one by one.

Goyun poked her head out from behind and called out into the shop, “Everything alright out there?  Did you drop something?”

Jongsuk steadied himself against the counter and replied, “I’m fine.  I just… dropped something.” 

“Be careful!” Goyun  replied back as she returned to the kitchen.

Jongsuk nodded mutely.  He turned back to the stranger.  He felt weak in the knees as he gazed at the man.  “Who…” he whispered, his voice hoarse, “Who are you?”

“Me?” the stranger said, holding up a chocolate bread and giving him a smirk, “I’m Kim Hyunjoong.  I’ve lived overseas all my life and only recently came to Korea.”  He smiled as he looked at the chocolate bread in his hand.  “I have a strange fondness for chocolate bread,” he said, “So hire me as your part-timer.”

“Kim…” Jongsuk murmured, slightly breathless.  His head swam as he lost himself in the stranger’s dark eyes.

“Because after all,” Hyunjoong drawled, “Who can say no to chocolate bread?”

THE END

Author's notes:

And that's all folks!  For those of you who are unaware, Kim Woobin's actual name (in real life) is Kim HyunJoong ^^  I wasn't referring to Kim HyunJoong from SS501!

THANK YOU to all my subscribers and readers!  Your patience and readership is greatly appreciated!  If you enjoyed Captive, please check out some of my other works!  I may work on more JongBin in the future but for now, I owe my Love Me and Dolls readers an update :)  Again, THANK YOU and see you soon!!