warning: implied non-con

There are many ways to make a human cry, but some give the torturer more pleasure.

-About Our Deep Abyss by Park Chanyeol

The palace was beautiful -- that much could be said. But the more Minseok gawked, the more disconcerting it became. There was a drastic difference from the cages (he could see many, too many, of them) placed in organized rows in the middle of nowhere, to the splendor that was the main palace. The opulence was everywhere --gold, silver, pearls, jade, tapestries and murals flaunted in every corner that they turned. But while a palace of this richness on land would perhaps be bright and warm, this one was the exact opposite. Lanterns of strange material embedded into the walls sent light flickering and dancing, but they were swallowed by the seawater. The lavish decorations couldn't fill the emptiness of the halls and it was as if he was walking through the ruins of an ancient, dead city.

As they turned, the guard roughly pushing Minseok to the side, he caught a glimpse of a sacrificial ritual depicted on a floor-to-ceiling painting. The emotions on the figures' faces were drawn with such detail that he could see the pain etched into their features. The blood pouring out of one's chest and the heart that seemed to be still beating sent a chill down his spine.

He was glad when the guard shoved his head down and Minseok contented himself with staring at the smooth floor as they walked on.

Until he was led into a vast room and forced onto his knees. The floor loomed in front of his face as he fell into the submissive position. He grit his teeth as he remembered Yifan's words. Do not resist.

“My most revered Emperor Suho, sovereign of all,” the guard said. “I have brought the newest captive.”

“Very well.” Minseok shivered involuntarily at the new voice- at the coldness, at the eeriness. It was hypnotic and entrancing and Minseok remembered the song that had led him here.

There was the ruffling of fabric, the gentle rippling of water and the faintest thrum of magic as the Emperor rose from his throne and floated towards Minseok. He felt the guard's iron fingers let go of his neck and he yearned to look up, but felt petrified. And maybe he really was petrified.

“Now, now. Let us see what we have here.”

A cool hand reached under his chin and, with slight pressure, tilted Minseok's head up. He kept his eyes cast downward until he heard, “Look up, my pet.”

He obeyed without hesitation and was met with a . . . human face. He didn't know what he was expecting, but after seeing all the otherworldliness, this humanity was surprising. It was familiar, but unsettling. The Emperor's eyes that held his were dark brown, warm and soft, but the light flickered and they were bottomless, murky and spoke of years of horror. Minseok blinked rapidly, wanting to look somewhere else, anywhere else, but his eyes wouldn't move.

The Emperor laughed, cold and melodic. “Don't be afraid. We've just met.” Patting Minseok's head, he straightened and reached out a hand.

A servant clad in dark blue robes that blended into the ocean appeared out of nowhere. Head bowed, she offered a mahogany box. Minseok stared as the Emperor opened the box and took out a golden collar inlaid with jade.

“This one, my dear,” the Emperor said, as if speaking to a child, “is for you.”

As he reached for Minseok's chin once again, Minseok held his breath and finally closed his eyes. He felt the heavy weight settle on his neck, sitting awkwardly against his collarbone.

“Beautiful, handsome and complemented by the jade,” the Emperor declared as his eyes raked his new pet. “Xiumin will be a perfect name.”

~ ~ ~

The Emperor walked away with a flourish of his robe and another servant led Xiumin to follow him. As they walked across the vast room, just as decorative and just as empty as the halls, he tried to make sense of what was going to happen. He was a captive, he was a pet, he was Xiumin. He had no clue who Xiumin was -- how he was supposed to act and why he even existed. Waking up after he had drowned and everything else that had followed was just so absurd. He didn't yet know what Yifan had warned him against but his blissful confusion ended soon.

After he crossed the threshold into a private chamber, the servant disappeared once again and Xiumin was left alone with the Emperor. The Emperor who turned and eyed him like a hungry wolf, the glint in his eye matching the flash of his teeth as he smiled.

Xiumin felt his limbs turning to ice and he was flipped onto the bed and their faces were too close, too close.

“This is just the first test,” the Emperor breathed out. Water rippled, tickling at Xiumin's nose and lifting his clothing and he couldn't look away. “Let us see how you are.”

The Emperor lowered himself, a finger lightly tracing Xiumin's cheekbone, jaw line, neck, down his chest, and down and down, mapping his ness and never breaking eye contact. Xiumin felt anger and hate bubbling deep inside, fighting to break free but the numbness in his mind was a thick unyielding blanket of magic. And he let himself be entered and destroyed, torn apart from inside out.

Do not resist.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jongin almost always had a headache when he was at home. In addition to his own nuclear family, he also lived with two of his aunts and their families; one had nine year old twins, the other had four kids ranging from two to sixteen. And one of the four was currently being led across the room from Jongin, tears rolling down as nonsensical words spilled from his mouth.

Jongin put down his phone (he was trying to figure out how to start a conversation with Ballet Boy). “What's wrong with him?” he asked his cousin Hyuna, who was following her mother and brother.

The girl shrugged before joining him on the couch and lazily turning on the T.V. The news anchorwoman began reciting facts about a recent car accident and both Kims tuned her out. “You know how he has a crush on that something-Geng?”

“Uh . . . am I supposed to?”

“That's all he talks about!” Hyuna exclaimed, staring at her cousin in disbelief.

Jongin made a face at the sixteen-year old. “I have a lot of things on my mind, okay?”

“Like how to get laid,” Hyuna muttered while changing the channel, landing on the angsty scene of a melodrama. Ignoring Jongin's protests about how he could get laid without even thinking about it, she continued, “Well, Heechul has apparently been hiding in a tree to stalk his crush and today, he fell out, scraped his knee and embarrassed himself. And then the other kid's mom threatened to call the police, so Heechul ran away. He thinks he's going to be forever alone now.”

“He hid in a tree?”

“Yeah.”

“He's going to be a good spy or something someday.”

“Kim Jongin!” Hyuna cried, slapping him in the arm. “He's five. What if he decides that he wants to be a kpop idol? Not everyone is so crazy about this life. And anyway, he fell out, so he can't be that good at it.”

Jongin made another face before standing up. “Okay, freedom of choice, whatever. But just know that he's going to be a lot cooler than you.”

“Do you kill people by annoying them to death?”

“Call me when dinner's ready,” he said without turning around as he left the living room for the peace of his own bedroom.

“Yah, Kim Jongin!”

Upon entering his room, he closed the shades, dimmed the lights and his favorite song. As the crooning ballad filled the room, he sprawled onto his bed, making himself comfy. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took in the romantic feel he had just created before turning on his phone.

“Ballet Boy . . .” he murmured to the empty text message history. “How should we do this?”

He rubbed his finger absently across the phone screen, scraping at the dried blood that had somehow gotten onto it. He was probably getting too relaxed and careless for his own good, but who was Kai without a little dumb recklessness? That and his skill and his morbid desire (he liked to call it an “intrinsic motivation”) was what made him so good at what he did. One of the most wanted criminals at age eighteen? You couldn't do that without taking some risks.

If he was an average teenager, he would probably be one of those wannabe badasses who do stupid things "for the vine" and scream "YOLO" before everything.

He propped himself up onto his elbows and began typing away.

Hey, do you want to meet up sometime? I still have to prove to you how interesting I am.

His thumb hovered over the “send” button as he reread his short message and hoped that it would work. If not, he would be losing his charm. Pressing the green button, he fell back onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling and listening to the sad lyrics of the song, he smiled, feeling accomplished.

And this is how it will begin.

YOLO

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You're back,” Yifan noted when Xiumin was once again locked inside the cage. “Can I ask for your name now?”

“Xiumin,” he answered flatly as he slumped onto the stone slab. It was so much more comforting than the Emperor's cushioned bed and he wished he could just lie on it forever. “What are these people?” he demanded as the numbness in his mind finally cracked and the anger began flowing out in trickles and rivulets.

“Monsters. Beautiful fish-things on the outside, but on the inside, they're probably rotting,” Yifan spat with smoldering intensity.

Xiumin pulled his knees to his chest. “Explain. P-please explain! Why am I here? Why me?! Why-” he choked off as a storm of emotions suddenly crashed down on him.

“Don't cry,” the mysterious man warned. “They feed off your tears, so don't waste them. And that's the answer to your question. And it's so funny that how human they seem determine their status. If you have a fish tail, then you're probably a slave. If you only have some gills, then you're a guard. Have you seen any of that on the damn Emperor? No! But they see us as scum -- trash that conveniently makes them more powerful. You're here because they need humans to torture and gain power from. Crying is such a shameful thing. 'Real men don't cry.' That's what they all said, but here? They'll make you see things, they'll make you feel things that make you rather be in Hell.” He paused and Xiumin tried to process the information. It couldn't be real.

“They're probably going to get rid of me soon,” Yifan continued, speaking more to himself than to Xiumin. “I've been wrung dry. I have no tears left. In the beginning, I cried because of confusion, because I missed my family and everything I had known -- my life before. Then I cried for my freedom, innocence, naivety. And then out of fear, misery, bitterness, anger and hatred. And now I'm just a useless shell. Empty. There's nothing left. Nothing can make me cry.”

“Nothing?”

“Except love.”

His voice was a ghost of a whisper and when he suddenly began singing, Xiumin shivered at the heavy nostalgia, so full of lost hope and promises.

“I can hear your voice, I can hear you in my mind. I think of the familiar streets and I think of the fading memories. And in this empty street, the silent embraces, love is quietly burning.”

What was love? Making love, forcing love, feeling love, falling in love . . . they all made no difference- there was no difference. He wouldn't find love here in this watery hell and even if he did, what of it? Would he be free of this hell?

It would just be something to be used against him, something to help his captors gain power.

“There is a place that you and I know. That I know, only we know.”

He didn't care about love. It was just something created in fairytales so that dreamers could have something to hold on to. He wished this was only a dream, a nightmare to wake up from.

And maybe it would be better if he could go back to being numb and unfeeling, but as he closed his eyes, tired fury boiled in his blood.

~ ~ ~

When Xiumin returned to find the cage empty, he vowed that he would never shed a tear.

Kris died so early T_T

I wrote this when "There is a Place" came out, so of course I had to include it haha. btw, the lyrics that I include in this fic (there's going to be a lot) are all translated by yours truly ^_^

And about that hanchul part...my friends and I were talking about book characters while one of them was sitting in a tree. The other said something like, "What if there's just a random guy who sits on trees and stares at people?" So I just had to put it in. And any hanchul shippers? although i ship sihan more