[CONTENTID1]WARNING: mentions of death, suicide[/CONTENTID1]
[CONTENTID3]bite the bullet[/CONTENTID3]
"Can I borrow your phone, Junmyeon?" I ask him, realising that I should call somebody to notify them that I'm on my way back. I'm not sure how Sehun had reacted when I stormed off, but he let me. Just to alleviate Minji's concerns, at least, I should call her to tell her I'm not dead.
"My friend wants to know when I'll be back," I explain.
Junmyeon nods agreeably and retrieves the phone from his pocket, handing it out to me.
As I remove the device from his hand, I frown, realising he has yet to unlock it for me. So I hold it back out for him, but at first he looks around himself, eyeing our surroundings.
Confused by his actions, I follow his suit and glance around, seeing that we're alone.
Did he hear something?
Eyeing Junmyeon with confusion, I watch as his jitteriness slowly morphs into a sense of calmness.
Because, as it turns out, the silence is calming for him.
It's quite perfect for him, actually.
Although it wasn't something I quite understood until he turned to me with a confident smile, hand reaching into the depths of the pockets in his jacket.
Because he's holding out a gun to me now, and he's pointing it right at my stomach.
And I feel my blood run cold.
And my heart drop.
"Drop the phone," he says.
Why is this happening?
His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth.
"I prefer Suho."
"What the hell are you doing?" I grit through my clenched teeth, slowing raising my hands beside me, palms first. My eyes bounce between the gun and Junmyeon's eyes, and yet I'm careful not to move.
"Drop the phone," he reiterates in a more bullish tone, and so I comply, letting the device slip through my fingers.
Once it marks its landing with a loud crash, Junmyeon then lifts his leg and s the bottom of his shoe into the phone, effectively crushing it. As he twists his foot on it, I hear the sound of glass shards crackling against the rocky cement.
Is he joking?
Is this some kind of sick ing joke?
Is there a camera crew somewhere along this road, filming my reaction? Is he just playing with me? Is this even real?
But now he's innocently smiling and blinking at me, like nothing's even happening. Once he notices I obviously am frightened for my life, his shoulders deflate.
"Oh, come on," Junmyeon his head to the side with a pout, "don't look so scared."
Don't look so scared?
"Are you off your ing mind? You're pointing a gun at me!" I shout at him, horrified by his calm disposition.
"Obviously, I'm not going to kill you," Junmyeon rolls his eyes like I'm the one overreacting, "but I do need you to listen to me."
"Why are you doing this?" I implore him for some kind of explanation, feeling the trepidation compound in my chest. I feel it stirring in myself like a pot, creating knots in my organs and squeezing my airways tight. I feel like I'm about to vomit. I flinch when he raises the gun up again.
"Because you have something I want."
"A conscience?" I scathingly hiss, "The ability to not back-stab people? An understanding that it is a crime to point a freaking gun at somebody?!"
Junmyeon pauses for a moment, eyes vacantly staring into the distance. He his head to the side before it begins to bob thoughtfully. "I suppose you make good points..."
This man is genuinely insane. I know I say that about many people, perhaps even inflate the meaning of the word, but he's ing coocoo!
Why is he smiling like that? Why does he gave a gun? Why is he pointing it at me?
"You can relax, I don't want to hurt you."
"OH, REALLY?" I bellow incredulously, "Well, why didn't you just say so! That changes everything! Oh gosh darn it, how relieved am I! Man, oh, man, you almost got me there for a second! HA HA, prank of the century! Thank god you just told me that, because what fool would be scared when you POINT A GUN at them?!"
"I can see how that could be misconstrued."
His tongue coats his lips. "Oh, c'mon honey, you know that's teasing."
I slam my eyes shut in frustration and attempt to calm myself. Is it weird that the fact that he's acting like this is a totally normal interaction between two friends is infuriating me even more? Why does everybody make me feel like I'm a lunatic?
Deep breaths, Juri.
Okay, let's face it—I'm going to ing die. Junmyeon is going to kill me. He'll murder my with a single gun shot and the worst part? The last thing I'll be caught dead wearing is this ugly ing shirt that doesn't complement me in any capacity. Purple is so not my colour. And oh god, what if I go missing and the photo they distribute on the news is that disgusting picture my mother took of me last year? The one where a green booger is halfway out my nostril? NOOO!
I can't let it end like this!
I must calm down.
Because I know that if history serves to be any indication, I don't often make the right, informed choices when I let myself be guided by my emotions.
And so I sigh, capitulating by looking at Junmyeon with soft eyes. "Can you please lower the gun so we can have a normal conversation?"
He shakes his head. "No can do, cutie."
"Please—" and I in a deep breath, really really not wanting to say it, but desperate for my life, "...cutie."
"What did you just call me?" Junmyeon's face immediately brightens, eyes rounded with a pleasant surprise.
I grumble. "You heard me."
"No, I didn't."
"Cutie," I repeat with an inaudible whisper.
"I didn't quite hear that," Junmyeon's grinning like the devil now, leaning in with free hand beside his ear.
"Cutie!" I snap, glaring at him, "I said please drop the gun... cutie."
This, is hell.
He's snickering now. "Fiona, do you really think I'm going to hurt you? That's so mean. Of course I'm not. Don't you trust me?"
I gulp uneasily, shutting my eyes again to focus on not losing myself in my emotions. My greatest priority right now is to not let him isolate me further. If he's going to shove me in a car, I'll just have to fight my way out of it. What are my options, then? I know we're quite far from the night market stalls, so I can't exactly yell for attention. Since he's got a gun, fleeing probably won't be a good idea. In saying that, I suppose it would be most logical to eliminate the advantage he has over me: that gun.
I must disarm him somehow.
Opening my eyes again, I force a tight smile. "Of course I trust you, Junmyeon."
Haha, sike. you. I don't trust you, you crazy son of a . Now that's the prank of the century. There is no ing way I'm letting the world see my boogers.
"Good," he grins, eyes flickering at my clothing, "so, obviously you don't have it. But I know you know where it is."
"Know where what is?"
Junmyeon's smile falters.
I feel my heart beat out my ears. How does he know about the camera?
"What the is it to you?" I growl angrily, feeling myself saturate with perturbation and disgust, because I'm fearful for his answer—does he work for Mr Kang? Is the camera his? Or worse, does he work for Sanghoon?
"It's my mother's camera. She looked at the CCTV and as it turns out, you and Sehun were seen exiting and entering the room."
I recall that we had discovered the camera inside a red handbag—so I assume he's claiming that the bag was his mother's. I wonder if he knows the real reason why I was there in the first place; if he has any relationship with Sanghoon or Mr Kang; or perhaps he just enjoys being deranged all by his pretty self.
"Why do you care so much about the camera?"
"You silly billy," Junmyeon rolls his eyes playfully, stifling a small laugh, "I just told you. Are you okay, sweetheart? You're kind of showing early signs of amnesia. You should see my psychic. She's really good at fixing ailments of the mind." Junmyeon bobs his head with a wide grin and big, enthusiastic eyes.
"This is unbelievable," I mutter under my breath, feeling my hands lower beside me but Junmyeon shoves the gun back up, forcing me to lift them again.
"Back to business. Where's the camera, hm?"
The camera? Jongin has it, I believe.
I remember that Jongin suggested that he take the camera himself, in fear that it could be discovered inside our dorms. Thank god I didn't take it with me. I suppose the concern currently is that I have no idea where Jongin, the boys or the camera are—they could still be at Minji's, or on their way to the facility, or perhaps tucked inside the beds of their dorms.
"I don't know," I answer in partial truth, because it wouldn't be uncharacteristic of Junmyeon to track down Jongin if I admitted that the camera is with him.
But in these times, I really question why I bother. I could just tell Junmyeon that it's in their possession, that I have nothing to do with any of this, and perhaps he'd let me go. I guess I'm not sure that Junmyeon would do as such, and I also don't want to compromise Jongin's safety either.
"Hm... why don't I believe you?" Junmyeon smiles tightly, staring straight at me with unwavering eyes. It's somewhat frightening, I suppose, because he looks quite determined. Like he really won't let me go if he doesn't get his hands on that camera.
I gulp, gnawing on my bottom lip.
"How would I know?" I squint at him, retaining my composure, "I haven't seen him since we left the club."
"So, you're telling me that you and Sehun both stole the camera and you parted ways at the club?"
Congratulations, Junmyeon, you have basic comprehension skills. I would give you a cookie for that, but the truth is I'm not so sure you'll let me live to see that day. "Yes."
"Okay." The boy straightens his spine, nodding with understanding. "I see. I guess the only thing left for me to do is to find Sehun, right?"
"Why the are you asking me? How the hell would I know what's on your bloody itinerary?"
He ruptures into laughter again while I stare at him with a deadpanned expression.
"I love ya," Junmyeon giggles again, wiping an amused tear from his eyes.
This, this right here—is the reason why I have no faith in humanity. This, and people that justify pineapple on pizza.
Junmyeon soon composes himself, even narrowing his eyes at me, as though contemplating whether or not I am telling the truth. Will he let me go if he finds out that I'm close to useless? It's obvious that I don't have the camera with me; I don't even have any pockets—so why the hell would he decide it to be a good idea to corner me like this?
I settle with myself that I should believe Junmyeon when he claims he won't shoot me. He won't, right? Beyond this, we're supposed to be friends. We've spent a lot of time in the facility together. We eat breakfast together. We eat lunch together. I give him permission to cook me ramyeon. How could he kill me?
But then again... he's a delinquent. And though I don't know anything about this particular field of ...interest, perhaps what has led me to this point is a severe underestimation of the extents to which these delinquents will go to get their way.
"So what's in the camera that makes you need it back so bad?" I ask him, determined to distract him and, simultaneously, extract as much information out of him as possible.
The boy's lips slowly form a devious smile. Behind his eyes is a looming sense of amusement. "Are you really going to pretend like you don't know what's in it? You obviously looked through it and decided it was worth stealing."
"Pictures and pictures of people's ID cards," I answer calmly, managing a smile even, "so what's it for? What does your mother do for a living?"
"Honey, I think you'll have plenty of time at our wedding to meet my parents. In the meantime, don't you think you're being a little nosy?" Junmyeon winks.
"Well," I shamelessly bat my eyelashes at him, "can you blame me if I just really want to learn about my future in-laws?"
I'm going to barf.
When I get home, if I get home, I'm running straight to the sink to scrub my body clean.
This is worse than bathing in .
Please, marry Junmyeon? I would rather be eaten alive by bears. Run over by a truck. I would rather eat my cereal with water for the rest of my life. And, not that it's a valid point by any means, but I often think about the time Baekhyun lectured me about not sharing the same last name as Kim Jong Un. Plus, can you imagine one day waking up and suddenly your husband is pointing a gun at you? How confused would you be? And what if Junmyeon welcomes Jieun and Kyungsoo over to our home and teaches them how to sing The Welcome Song and I'll have to cut off my own ears? What will I do then? Just be ear-less for the rest of my life?
I can't do that. My ears are my best features.
Anyway, I digress—case in point: don't marry Junmyeon.
"Fine," Junmyeon huffs in annoyance, "if you're not going to tell me where Sehun is, then I'm just going to have to bring him here."
My eyes flicker to the ground and view the crushed phone. How is he planning to bring Sehun here, by bloody witchcr