Jongin

Dean Hollis doesn’t know where to look.

The single light bears down on him, harsh and incandescent, leaving the rest of the room in waiting darkness. He twiddles his thumbs and his heart seems to pound unbearably in his chest. The feeling of sickness rises and falls within his stomach and, as the seconds tick by, his disbelief of what is happening just grows to the point of enormity.

The figure across the table leans forward; face illuminating, thick fingers lacing together, expression hard and unforgiving. His steel-grey eyes bore into Dean, and Dean can only swallow down the heavy lumps in his tight throat.

“Could you repeat that one more time for me.”

It’s not a question - spoken softly with a voice thickened by years of cigarette smoke. Dean feels the panic. He clears his throat. “But I’ve already told you my-“

“Mr. Hollis, are you not aware that a young woman has just gone missing.”

“Y-yes-“

“Then I expect to have your full cooperation. Now, please, tell me your story again.”

Dean wets his lips, “Look, I don’t see why-“

“How ‘bout you start with telling me about how you met Miss Jung.”

Dean breathes and averts his eyes away, feeling himself losing his resolve. “At school. She was new and in a few of my classes, and we got paired together for a Biology project.”

“She and her father moved onto the same street as you, only a few houses down. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Were you or were you not present at the Jung residence the night before Miss Jung’s disappearance.”

“I was.” Dean replies, following the lines of his palms, sweat drizzling.

“And what were you doing there.”

“She invited me over to work on that biology project I mentioned before.”

The man across the table leans on his elbows, tilts his head to the side, his eyes indecipherable. Dean finds himself locked in place by his own fear.

“Tell me, Mr. Hollis, were you in any way attracted to Miss Jung.”

His jaw unhinges slightly. “Well- uhm…I…-“

“It’s a straightforward question, Mr. Hollis. A yes or no answer.”

Dean’s throat feels swollen. He clenches his teeth and presses his lips into a taught line and nods. “Y-yes, I…I was…attracted to her.”

“Did you engage in any type of romantic or ual relationship with her.”

“No, sir, not exactly.”

The man clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans back in his chair. He watches Dean for a good moment or two before he crosses his arms and scratches at his brow. “Mr. Hollis, I need you to tell me exactly what happened the night that you were at the Jung residence – from the moment you entered to the moment you left.”

Dean swallows down. “Well…I…I got there around seven thirty. Jessica opened the door for me-“

“Was there anyone else present at the house?”

“No, sir.”

“Where was her father?”

Dean scratches at his scalp, shakes his head slightly. “I’m not sure…Jessica mentioned something about him working late…”

“And then what happened?”

“We went to her room to study.”

“To study?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But did you really only study?”

“Well…”

“Well?”

Dean wipes at his forehead, clearing his throat once more, crosses one foot over the other. “That’s…that’s how it started out…”

“Care to elaborate?” The man sighs.

Dean exhales. “Well, we did study for about…maybe…30 minutes? And then we both got bored. She started talking about her dad and she got all emotional.”

“What did she say, exactly?”

“She told me that after her mum walked out, her dad became really overprotective. She said that they fought a lot.”

“What happened after that?”

“I-I went to comfort her and then- and then we…we kissed.”

“Just a kiss.”

“Y-yeah. Her father came home before anything else could happen. She forced me to hide in her closet. I waited in there for at least 20 minutes. When she came back in, she was really upset, and she forced me out through the window – saying that she’d call me later.”

“Did she call you later?”

“No.”

The man says nothing for a long while. He leans back in his chair and rubs at his rough stubble in thought. Dean tenses under the weight of the silence.

“I didn’t…I didn’t kill her-or...or kidnap her…or whatever.” Dean blurts, more to himself. “I couldn’t have. I liked Jessica. She was nice and pretty and funny. I wouldn’t do that to her.”

The man nods and loosens his tie, his grey eyes now looking at Dean, digging holes into him. “Mr. Hollis, do you know of anyone that would want to harm Miss Jung in any way. Did she have any enemies at school or at all?”

Dean shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

The man sighs. “We’re done here. An officer will show you the way out.” He pushes himself out his seat, grabs up his files and exits the interrogation room, wondering how a case with only dead-end leads could ever get solved.

Pushing through the door to the viewing room, he slaps down the files onto a nearby desk and shakes his head. After a deep breath, he folds his arms against his chest and looks through the one-way mirror at Dean, waiting quietly, his scrawny legs shaking.

“The kid seems innocent, Roger.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I got a list of every resident living on South Haven. Shim said you might want to look at it since he’s keeping tabs on the other five disappearances.”

“Thanks, Sal.”

“No problem.” They both resume observing the young man on the other side of the mirror for a moment. Sal sighs. “The in-laws are coming to dinner tonight and my wife wants me home sharpish. So, I’ll catch you later.”

“Alright.” He watches Sal leave.  

Dean gets escorted out of the interrogation room and Detective Roger Sullivan slumps into a swivel chair. Flicking on the switch to the desk lamp, he takes the list Sal had given him and scans through the names and faces.

He stops at a note next to two of the names that says ‘lives across the street’ written in Sal’s scribbly calligraphy. So, without a second thought, he underlines the two names – Junghee and Yuri Kwon, thinking they could know something.

* * *

Yuri first sees Jessica Jung from across the street. She’s carrying a box marked ‘living room’, and Yuri feels, then, rapt by the way the sun hugs Jessica’s skin, and makes loving shadows stretch themselves in all the correct places.

Yuri thinks that this is the moment she falls, watching from her bedroom window, falls into a spiraling multitude of obsession and infatuation.

Yuri watches her from afar. She watches where Jessica goes, how Jessica walks, how Jessica’s lips part when she laughs and how Jessica’s eyes make her insides feel like they’ve been taken out and put back in the all wrong places.

Yuri is always watching, always waiting. Excited and nervous. Jessica is beautiful. She is the exact kind of beautiful that leaves an imprint on Yuri’s thoughts and leaves dents on the shell of Yuri’s heart.

“You don’t stand a chance.” Jongin says, lighting another cigarette, leaning against Yuri’s wardrobe.

Yuri looks back at him from where she’s currently standing. “You should stop smoking.” Yuri says, soft, after a pause and then turns back to look out the window, to where she can see Jessica on the other side of the street, talking to another girl at the end of her drive way.

Yuri smiles, small and hopeful.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Yul.” Jongin says, now behind Yuri, cigarette smoke on his lips. “You know how this is going to end.”

“I know…but…look at her.” Yuri leans her head against the frame of the window. “She’s…she’s….”

“She’s out of your league – that’s what she is.”

Yuri tries to ignore Jongin’s comment.

“She could like me…” Yuri says quietly, watching Jessica wave goodbye to her friend.

“Yuri,” Jongin says through mocking laughter, “You can’t be serious.”

Yuri’s self-esteem inches a little lower. She turns around to face Jongin.

“Look at yourself.” The smoke dances out between the gaps of Jongin’s smile. “You’re disgusting. How could anyone like you?”

“I…I don’t know.” Yuri lowers her head, feeling her non-existent confidence shrivel up inside her.

“Exactly,” Jongin says, patting Yuri on the cheek, flicking his cigarette somewhere over his shoulder. “She’s a girl who likes boys. She’ll end up with me…and you, well…you don’t stand a chance.”

* * *

Yuri doesn’t remember where Jongin came from, but she likes to think that Jongin came from Paris. Paris suits Jongin - but there’s Tokyo too, or maybe Seoul. Come to think of it, there isn’t a place or piece of clothing that doesn’t suit Jongin.

Jongin is tall, dark – good-looking, with his sharp jaw and his obsidian eyes. He moves with an air of confidence that turns Yuri’s eyes green. His shoulders are broad and his body is lean. A worn leather jacket always adorns his frame and a cigarette always seems to be hanging from his teeth.

Jongin is everything that Yuri wishes she was.

“How’s Jongin?”

Meetings with her mother always somehow seem formal, forced. Mrs Kwon always preferred Jongin to Yuri. Most people prefer Jongin to Yuri.

“He’s fine.” The tea burns her lips.

Her mother stirs before setting down her spoon. “Just fine?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you always doing that?” Mrs Kwon snaps. “You never talk to me properly. Talk to me properly.”

The clock ticks somewhere behind Yuri’s shoulder, and it seems she always regrets talking to her mother.

“Why can’t you be more like Jongin?”

“I don’t know, mother.”

“I wanted a son.”

This conversation happens nearly everyday, but Yuri still comes back to it, back to her mother who is always in the living room with cups of tea and saucers.

Her mother takes a breath, her voice and her lips taught. “How was school?”

“School was fine.”

“Have you got a boyfriend yet?

“No.”

“What about Jongin? Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Jongin has had many girlfriends, mother.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Mrs Kwon mutters, sloshing around the tea in her cup. “He’s only had five.”

“Soon to be six.”

Her teacup hits the table, spills across the glass top and drips down onto the red-stained rug. She’s angry, always angry. “You’re just like your father.” She stands, goes to the window, leaving Yuri to sit and watch her.

She doesn’t know why it always ends up like this, but it just does. Maybe it’s because she never knew her father.

* * *

Jongin charms her without effort. Yuri just stands and watches between them, fuming, nervous and squirming.

Jongin smiles at her, laughs with her, leans close to her. And Jessica mirrors it seamlessly. She is all pink lips and white teeth, blonde hair and sun-kissed skin – Yuri couldn’t possibly take her eyes off her.

Jessica bids them farewell. Yuri watches her back, ignoring the sun in her eyes, wishing that she had the guts to talk to her instead of standing there while Jongin worked his magic.

When she turns back, Jongin stuffs his hands inside his pockets, his eyes still on Jessica. “She’s perfect.” Jongin almost whispers, his eyes a little glazed. He looks to the ground before saying, “I’m going for a smoke. Catch you later.”

He leaves before Yuri can respond. But she’s not worried. No matter how long Jongin disappears for, he always comes back.

Yuri heads back to class when the bell rings, and stays there until it’s time to go home. The room empties at a slow pace, and Yuri simply waits, spinning her pen mindlessly between her fingers, listens to the clock ticking and the voices and the footsteps, and wonders where Jongin goes when he’s not with her. Just going for a smoke wouldn’t be enough to entertain him.

“Yuri,”

She looks up and there Jessica stands - in front of her desk, looking pretty and sincere, a polished ornament against the grey body of bustling students behind her. An ornament ready to shatter.

Yuri swallows, “Hey, Jessica.” Her heart swells behind her ribs.

“Hey,” Jessica returns, her fingernails shining red, her lips shining red. “Some friends and I are going to that new shopping centre and that just opened up in town. I was wondering if you wanted to come…?”

From the corner of her eye, Yuri sees a figure standing in the doorway of the classroom, just over Jessica’s shoulder. When she looks, it’s Jongin. His eyes are angry. Jongin is never good when he’s angry. He’s uncontrollable. Terrible and awful and horrible.

He will hurt Jessica, and Yuri knows it.

“Sure, I’ll come.”

* * *

Jessica is like a melody – a song, a melodious tune, a piece of art that Yuri will turn over in her mind again and again and again, and will never tire from it. Jessica is the sun, without the blinding – the moon, without the dark. Yuri would craft an entire universe around Jessica, for Jessica – put Jessica in the particles of the air so she could remain in Yuri’s system, on her skin, forever.

Yuri walks on clouds and breathes in sun on her way home, thinking hopelessly of Jessica’s hands that had so gently grazed her palms, of Jessica’s fingers that had wrapped around Yuri’s forearm innocently, pressed against the vein in her wrist. And Yuri is gone with the wind, light on the insides by the time she gets back to her house and closes the door to her bedroom.

She drops her bag to the ground and drops herself onto her bed and smiles at the ceiling.

“You’re pathetic.”

Yuri sits up. Jongin has the window open, breathing out smoke into the summer evening.

“What do you-”

“I saw.” Jongin says. “You weren’t very discreet, were you? I followed you.” Jongin chuckles softly to himself, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling for so long that Yuri thinks that it’s going to burn out. He leans his head back and blows out the smoke toward the top of the room. “You know what?” Jongin stands up straight and takes a few steps toward Yuri menacingly. “I think I might just steal her sooner than later.”

Yuri’s face pales. “J-jongin…please…”

“You like her.” Jongin inhales poison again, tilting his head as he looks at little Yuri. “It’s written all over your ugly face.” He pauses, bites down on his lip and looks at the cigarette between his fingers thoughtfully. “Tell me, what do you like about her?”

Yuri is scared. “It doesn’t matter, Jong-“

“But it does. So tell me.”

Dread pools at the bottom of Yuri’s stomach. “Her eyes…and her…her laugh…”

“Wow. So eloquent.” He smirks. “Mother isn’t going to be happy.”

Yuri moves toward Jongin slowly. “You’re not gonna tell her, are you?”

Jongin shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t have to,” His cigarette is well on its way out the window. “She already knows.”

Yuri’s stomach drops. She looks toward the door. She hears cups of tea and saucers downstairs. She’s going to be an