Chapter Two: Pain-fuled Machine

"We are nothing but Exiled Heathens"

Jongin is pissed off.

Very much so.

The dummies take most of the damage, some unfortunate people the rest. Jongdae feels like the Jongin from five years ago is back. The monstrous, out of control beast Jongin has been hiding in him since he was bailed from that asylum. It’s been a long while since then, but he can’t stop seeing flickers of that inhumane robot being revived back to life.

Do Kyungsoo, the name of the man who helped him escape.

Jongdae can see it hurts Jongin more and more as the days pass and he paints his hands in blood, alcohol and drugs. So many magazines are gone, along with so much sanity. He is witnessing his leader break apart while standing on the side, unable to help or save him. He’s slowly dying but never admitting. Jongdae can see he is just trying to ignore everything and go back to a routine he’s learned to hate. But he’s not succeeding, and that’s what makes Jongin’s attitude even worse.

A constant paradox.

Park Chanyeol’s letters were late, they came seven days after the kidnapping, speaking of threats Jongin laughed off. And then went on a killing spree. The letter was long forgotten in a drawer and despite Jongdae asking him about it, it was still passed by his leader. It spoke of requests Jongin never agreed on. It was mind-wrecking, the ticking of that invisible clock which counted Kyungsoo’s days—days of him staying alive and in one piece.

It was so damn loud, but Jongin just refused to listen.

The second letter came with another request. Jongdae wouldn’t know if he hadn’t found it by accident on Jongin’s heavy desk. It looked as well as new, so he opened it himself since Jongin flat-out ignored him when he presented it to him. The clock was ticking louder and louder and soon, two weeks had passed and a third letter had yet to arrive.

Jongdae was skittish—Minseok noticed and also commented on it.

“If Jongin doesn’t care, why do you bother?”

Jongdae didn’t know, truth be told. He hated Jongin most of the time. For his actions, his decisions, his ordering everyone around, his stupid proudness and entitlement. His recklessness and insanity that would hurt anyone standing in a kilometer radius around him. But he hated seeing him wither to slow death. The man took ill decisions and it wasn’t just a couple times he and Minseok had picked him up wasted and baked, to take him to a hotel because he didn’t want to see his apartment empty.

The man was in pain, broken and dying off this world despite trying to hide it with an overused façade. But after everything they’d been through, Jongdae knew it was unfair to see his leader and the small empire they’d built over the years crumble down. So he opts to remind Minseok that without him, and the link he, Minseok and Yixing have to him, they are nothing but exiled heathens.

“Because we’ll go down if he goes down.”

$$$

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it, Mr. Kim?”

The twenty-two year old brunet glances at the man sitting at the table. The whole room is bright white, almost blindingly pure. There’s a small bed at one side of the room, made of light blue metal and sheets of white, blankets of white. The nightstand—painted white wood. The floor—white mosaic. A small table placed in the middle of it, two metallic chairs to match it at either of the long sides. The sitting brunet is wearing whites. His skin makes a nice contrast with the clothing, one shade too dark yet still sickeningly pale. No doubt caused by the days he hasn’t seen the sun. His hair a memory of the blond shade he came in with, the majority turning black after months of not being dyed.

The straitjacket, white, too.

Kyungsoo moves to sit at the other end, his white coat waving behind each step he makes and a file held in one hand. He places himself opposite of the blond and his wide eyes take in the high, cloudy stare of the other’s. He’s an interesting man to say the least. Kyungsoo has been feeding this fondness of the male quite some time now. Sometimes he’s like this, too deep in his thoughts, too drugged to pay attention to Kyungsoo and his questions. Too gone to care. But some other times, he’s a charming, deceptive man. One who knows how to speak and what to say, exactly in the right pattern to make others hang from his words. Do his requests.

That should be the influence of a crazy criminal—Kyungsoo assumes.

He doesn’t seem to pay attention to Kyungsoo, so he clears his throat in an attempt of catching it. But it doesn’t either, so he speaks up instead.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo starts, a small tremble at the back of his throat. “How are you feeling today?”

It takes a while but the brunet snaps out of his thoughts, staring back with brown eyes so piercing Kyungsoo feels enough self-conscious to look away from him.

“Could be better.” Kim moves in his seat, taking a look around the room as Kyungsoo scribbles some notes on the first file. He feels movement and looks up only to find the patient leaning over the table, some sort of fascination flashing over those dark eyes and a smirk playing on his thick lips.

 “Are you going to ask me if I need something?”

Kyungsoo laughs it off, correcting his glasses on his nose with a shy gesture. These visits have always been strange, but it always makes Kyungsoo like them more with each passing day. There’s something pulling him towards this man that makes him look forward to start working each morning. “Routine is routine, Mr. Kim.” He doesn’t get an answer, though, so he just probes “Is there anything you need?”

“In fact, there is.” Kyungsoo watches as the blond leans even closer, glancing around as if he’s about to tell him a secret. Then a grin etches on his face, one that doesn’t exactly touch his eyes. “Bring me a phone.”

“A-A phone?” Kyungsoo echoes and the blonde grins even wider and tilts his head just the slightest. “That’s prohibited, I can’t.”

“That’s a shame,” Kim leans back, a sad look on his face as he looks away. “I thought with you being my doctor, you’d care about my simple request.”

“I do care!” comes Kyungsoo’s fast reply and he cowers a bit from embarrassment. Kim is now staring at him with eyes of interest. “I mean, as your doctor, I will do anything to make your stay slightly better.”

Kim then grins, leaning towards him for the second time. His eyes hold Kyungsoo’s gaze and the latter can’t find it in himself to look away. He’s absorbed into the abyss his patient’s mind is in, and he can’t see the way out.

“Then bring me a phone.”

Kyungsoo knows he’s not in his right mind. Maybe it’s the excitement, or the interest. Maybe it’s that same fondness he has towards his patient. Maybe the promise of something new and different, more fun than his mundane routine. Maybe it’s the attraction towards the danger Kim is emitting in each breath he takes. Whatever it actually is, Kyungsoo doesn’t think twice before disobeying rules. But he sneaks in that cell-phone anyways and he’s present while Kim dials a number and talks.

“Hey,” Kim’s eyes flash at Kyungsoo standing in front of him, a smirk hanging from his lips as he speaks into the device. “How much longer are you going to let me be in here?”

Kyungsoo shouldn’t, but is still surprised when the alarm goes off and minutes after the door to Kim’s room is kicked open while he’s doing his regular visit and checkup. They are all wearing black, armed and with masks covering their faces. Kyungsoo almost falls off his chair from fear but Kim only huffs as he glares at the trio at the broken door.

“Took you long enough, Chennie~” His expression is sour as one of the men approach and with a fast passing of his knife, cuts his straitjacket in half. Kim only stretches his arms over his head, breathing in calmly.

“You’ll be surprised with what you’ll find at the headquarters.” He hands Kim two pistols and Kim gazes at them with something akin to love—as much as Kyungsoo can see. Which is more than worrisome. But Kyungsoo reminds himself that the man standing in front of him has murdered at least two people—those he was arrested for.

“Let’s go get Lay and we’re out.”

The breath hitches in Kyungsoo’s throat and before he can register anything, he jerks up. The movement is enough for the two men at the door to point their guns on him in suspicion.

“Take me with you,” Kyungsoo voices so lowly, so softly. His whisper, though reaches Kim and the man looks at him with a raised eyebrow. It takes a lot of courage on Kyungsoo’s part to look away from the guns’ barrels and almost but beg Kim. “Take me with you,” he repeats slightly louder and Kim stares at him, unfazed.

Then, a silent smirk etches at his lips and he approaches the doctor, sinful eyes looking on a bland, white canvas. So boring, so pure and stain-less. And he finds it attractive, so appealing, the thought of painting that same white canvas pure black, with nothing but his demonic insides. There’s a big part of him that wants to take that innocence, crush it and corrupt it so much there’ll be no return.  No remorse, no escape. With absolutely no mercy on his part.

“Kai?” asks the man standing by his side, but the sinister smile on his face has successfully caught the fly in his web.

It’s only a countdown from now on, when the venom will be administered.

“Where would I go without my precious doctor?”

$$$

Kyungsoo feels like a fool.

He wakes up to bright lights hanging low over his head and it momentarily blinds him. But his clothes are sticky from being drenched so he is wide awake now. He doesn’t remember much since the moment men came hurdling in through the door to help his patient escape the asylum. Everything is foggy and then blacks out seconds after he asks Kim to take him with. Which lead him to wake up on this table, facing white lights and a man standing by his side with a bucket in his hands.

He tries to move and sit up but he’s bandaged down on the furniture and it only makes him panic. There’re leather straps around his limps, chest and legs. Tied well enough to restrict his movement so much that he can’t even slip on the table’s metal su