#These grey-striped clouds above us#
With this story, I want neither Super Junior nor SM inflict any damage! It arises entirely my imagination and is not based on real facts.
 

It wasn't a glorious morning. Though the sunrays already struggled while climbing over the first rooftops, but were prevented from cottony clouds to light Seoul in a bright, beautiful, dazzling light. However, the first people already walked on the streets. With briefcases and coats, arguing on the phone, the newspaper tucked under one arm, a steaming coffee in one hand, stolen goods from the breakfast table in the other hand.
If they hadn't come home only late at night yesterday, Sungmin would have also got up certainly and would have gone for a jog in the nearby park. These murky morning hours were still the only ones where no fans besieged the house or to early for the press to take photos in crowds from the window and roofs. It had its downside of being a star. An immense one. For example, he couldn't allow himself to remain in his soft, warm bed, only because that after 3 hours of sleep his head still hummed and he felt like under the water surface. He also couldn't turn around, an arm was wrapped around his waist, a leg was entangled with his. Sluggishly he blinked at his alarm clock and couldn't believe that he repeatedly forced himself to go running.
Almost six o'clock.
With careful movements and almost stopped breath Sungmin writhed from Kyuhyun's arms who had grimaced at the shrill sound of the alarm clock, but had made no arrangements to change something in their position. Though he wasn't terribly grumpy in the mornings, but three hours... He had already freed his leg, had been able to lift his upper body easily from the bed and Kyuhyun's arm was sliding from him – as the younger opened his still bleary eyes and almost looked quite reproachfully at the blond one. Sungmin tried an apologetic smile and was about to throw the blanket of himself when two arms embrace his body again.
"Kyuuu ~", wailed the all-rounder as he was pulled back on the bed and Kyuhyun snuggled to him. His breath glided enticing over his nape and not completely foreign fingers painted small circles over his belly.
„Ten minutes Minnie.“, a mumble came out between the kissable lips, while they striffen against the skin of the older person as he spoke. A half irritated, half excited groaning slipped from Sungmin as Kyuhyuns hand sank a little further down, approached the sensitive pelvic area.
„Two. Without – no French kisses – only cuddling.“, Sungmin went into the discussion and detained the searching fingertips of the other with his hands, before they could do even more than they had already done anyway.
„One and a half with tongue and... and touching.“
„One! Only cuddling and at the end one single kiss with tongue.“
A hum came back and the arms pressed him firmly to the body behind him
„One minute and thirteen seconds, cuddling and tongue.“
Sungmin sighed and shook his head, gave up, before he returned to the arms, which Kyuhyun had loosened probably.
„One minute thirteen?“, asked the blonde smiling and circled his arms also round the body of the other, „Why such a twisted, weird number?“
„Maybe you miscount then.“, was the cheeky answer, before warm, dry lips laid down on his and he was the back. Though this wasn't his definition of cuddling and Kyuhyun's hand went  more than once in a southerly direction, but Sungmin would never complain about it.
5 – 6 – 7 – 8.
It was hard for him to focus on the numbers, while the other squeezed himself to him – and now splitted Sungmins lips with his tongue to claim the promised French kiss. With a muffled groan Sungmin pushed his fingers in the chaotic, dark hair and laid a leg around the hip of the other, had to suppress another groan as their southern regions rubbed against each other and Kyuhyun didn't hesitated to exploit the situation.
46 – 47 – 47 – 47.


Sunday, 17. November

<<I´m Cho Kyungsi – I – I have, have chosen the number 37. I... to my family if you hear this, I'm fine. I'm not injured. Today is the 9th of November.? I don't know exactly, here is no clock, no calendar – is here nothing at all! Nothing! Everything is always dark and, and – and my hands – he has tied up my hands. But I am not injured... not injured... he will let me go – I'm sure – he laughed at me when I was asking, if this was good right? Or? OR?! Why did no one ever answer me->>
The tape ended suddenly and the tape recorder opened the door to release the cassette. Choi took it out with careful fingers and laid it back in the proof bag which was marked with "T4". A simple white cassettehouse with black tape – "9th of November" was written down with a foil pencil on its case .
Heavy-hearted the three Super Junior members sat at the table in the small room of the police station and threw themselves uncertain glances.
"Well-", Choi cleared his throat and tapped at the four small proof bags which he had laid on the table, „I spare you the other three, they are not quite different from the contents. Only the length of the records is varying. Apparently they should selected a number without knowing that it's their time for the recording... We have found a tape for every victim. In the case Cho Kyungsi we even know what the number meant – from the 9th of November up to the day of his debut on the 16th of December there are 37 days. He must have counted them.“
Henry sipped almost obsessively on his tea while Leeteuk only shook his head.
„How does this help us? Nevertheless you have found the recordings after they... they...“
„I would like to say that there is a possibility that your manager and member couldn't have been kidnapped by the same murderer. There are unequivocal divergences in the behaviour of the offender. On one hand he has never caused a big sensation by kidnapping his victims, he would have pulled them on the way back from a radio stat