Warning: Violence & vulgarities

Characters: Kim Jongin, Kim Joonmyun & 'their father'

Prompt: Escape

 

Entered for: [ d é s e s p o i r ] ❅ Writing Contest

Prompt: 2 ["He can't go on without you. Keep that in mind."]

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Sometimes when things got really bad, he would crawl into Their Closet.  It was the only place left that had been untouched.

It wasn’t really a closet; they started calling it a ‘closet’ for lack of better words.  In truth, it was far more than a simple place to keep one’s clothes.

The wardrobe in his bedroom was the ‘secret entrance’ to the Closet, the clothes hung like a curtain guarding their hideaway.  Back then, it was just a place for fun and games, where they could play imaginary games.  Their favourite game had been one about pretending to be runaway princes.

Just the two of them, snuggled together in that small space in the rotted wall, creating infinite fantasy worlds where they fought dragons, rescued pretty princesses, become heroes and… everything. 

Back then, they weren’t tied down by boundaries, weren’t broken by reality.

Jongin gingerly eased his lanky body into the small hole and curled himself up.  His lean body was covered in bruises and cuts of all degrees, but the wounds didn’t hurt so bad now he that he was in the Closet.  He let himself be lulled into safety by the musty darkness.

“I promise I won’t let you be hurt, okay?”  Joonmyun’s voice echoed in his head.  “I promise I won’t leave you alone, ever.”

A tear slipped down his face.  “Hyung… why did you break all of your promises?”

Involuntarily, a memory flashed through his mind.

 

Everyone was dressed in black, and Jongin was too young to understand why.  He tugged at his older brother’s sleeves.  “Hyung?  Why are there so many people here today?  Is there going to be a party?  And why isn’t Umma here yet?  Will she come soon?”

Joonmyun turned to the younger boy with tear-filled eyes.  “Jongie-ah, Umma’s not coming.”

“Wae?  But she loves parties!” Jongin’s eyes widened in curiousity and surprise.

“She… she won’t be coming back… ever,” the older brother choked.

Jonging still didn’t understand, but he could see that his brother was having a hard time answering his questions, so he fell silent and simply did whatever he was told.

He looked around and saw many people he recognized, and even more whom he didn’t.  They all wore solemn expressions and some were even crying.

An unfamiliar man holding a microphone attached to a portable speaker announced in a grave voice, “We will now pay our respects to the late Mrs. Kim Jaeshin.  Immediate family members will go first.”

Someone placed a white rose each in their hands and pushed them towards what Jongin’s young mind interpreted to be a huge box resting on a raised platform.  The six years old boy did not know what it held or what it was for, but his shrewd eyes observed how respectfully everyone stepped around the box.  From that, he concluded the box held something precious.

Still holding his twelve years old brother’s hand tightly, they went up to it. 

A stool had been thoughtfully set up, so Jongin climbed on it in order to throw the rose on the box as he had seen some adults do.  But before his fingers let go of the stalk, his eyes registered the figure laid in the box.

“Umma?” he called out, letting go of the rose to try and touch his mother’s face.  Instead, his small chubby hand slapped against the cold glass which separated them. 

The young boy felt that something was wrong.  “Umma!  Can you hear me?!”  He banged his fist against the box lid, his voice rising into a shriek.

“Jongie!” Joonmyun wrapped his arms around his brother and dragged him away forcefully.  He placed the latter on a chair gently, then bent down so his face was level with the younger boy’s.  “Jongie, calm down, please Jongie.  Let hyung tell you a little secret, arraso?  Umma… Umma has just gone to a better place.”

At those words, Jongin ceased his hysterics and quieted down to small hiccups.  “Jinjja, hyung?  Like… to JoonJongland?”

He nodded.  “Neh.  So don’t be sad anymore Jongie-ah.  One day we’ll go there to live with Umma in a castle, mm?  Does that sound good to you?”

The younger boy’s face broke into a smile.  “Of course!  Jongie promises not to be sad anymore.  Jongie will be strong for Umma!  And Jongie will wait patiently for that day to come.”

Joonmyun straightened and ruffled his hair affectionately.  “Jongie is a good boy!  I’m sure Umma will be proud of you.  In return… hyung promises that when the time comes to leave, we’ll go together, arraso?”

 

“Hyung… Jongie is sorry for breaking all his promises,” Jongin whispered, his aching body racked with sobs.  He a piece of sea glass lovingly with one finger, careful not to let stained and torn fingernail touch the priceless object.

 

“Both of you, useless!  I should keep two pigs instead of you two.  At least pigs have more worth,” their father spat, deftly removing his belt.  “Do you think your Umma will be proud of these crap results?!”

He was always doing that.  Using their mother as a tool to hurt them.

Jonging shrank back in fear, hoping that their father would get it over and done with quickly.  Joonmyun, on the other hand, his chin out defiantly and raised his eyes to meet their father’s.

“You think you actually know what would make Umma proud?” he taunted.  “You were barely ever there for her.  Do you know how much it killed Umma because she knew you were cheating on her?  It’s why she died!”

Their father flicked his wrist, making the belt snap and hit the older boy’s arm with a resounding ‘PAK’.  Joonmyun staggered back from the force, the other hand flew up to where the hard leather left a mark on his skin.

“You little bastard.  You’re not even my son.  She got pregnant with another man’s child, and that child is you.  Be grateful I even raised you!” the vicious man snarled.

Jongin’s jaws dropped open in shock.

“It’s because you ing sold her ity to make some money!” the elder bother roared.  Without any warning, he rushed forward head-first to tackle the older man.

The two rolled around, each struggling to gain an upper hand, in the process landing several good punches on each other.  Their fighting wasn’t helped by the fact that the living room was cluttered with many items which they made use of as weapons.

Jongin could feel bile rising to the back of his throat at the sight of blood splattered everywhere.  Their father had somehow gotten his hands on a sturdy vase, and was poised to strike Joonmyun with it.  “Hyung!” he screamed, running towards them.

One moment, he felt as though he was flying through the air, the next moment, all he heard was the sound of something heavy cracking, and then he found himself lying face-down on the floor.

He wanted to ask what happened, but when he opened his mouth, blood mixed with vomit surged out instead.

“Oh god, Jongie, are you okay?”

“.  .  You bloody bastard, look what you made me do to my real son!”

He wanted to say, I’m fine, don’t worry, just please stop fighting, except he was too weak to even do that.  The next instant, he gave in to the darkness.

 

“He should be awake soon when the anesthesia wears off,” an unfamiliar voice said, and then in his subconscious state, Jongin heard a click – the sound of a door closing quietly – before he drifted back into oblivion.

When he next opened his eyes, all he could see at first was blinding whiteness and bright lights, making him dazed for a few seconds, until he heard his father’s voice.

“Jongin!  You’re awake!”

He tried to sit up but his muscles weren’t cooperating.  “Wh-where… where am I?” he panicked, the events in their living room  coming back to him.

“You’re in the hospital, Jongin.  I’m so sorry…” It took Jongin a while to realize his father was trying not to cry.  He felt his blood run cold – that couldn’t mean anything good.

His father’s next words made his blood freeze.  “Please forgive Appa for smashing that vase into you…  your shoulders and upper spine.  You had to undergo an operation to replace your broken bones with metal support.  The doctor… he said you will need to learn how to control them.”

 

Jongin reached his free hand under his thin T-shirt to run his palm across the metal structure attached lengthwise across his shoulders and down his upper torso.

He couldn’t find words to describe how much he abhorred that thing, even though he knew he ought to be grateful he wasn’t paralyzed.  He hated that it made him disabled, made him less human.  To most people, he was a freak and not a work of nature.

Whatever others thought of him, he could handle.  If they sneered or laughed at him, he could still tolerate it.  Anything, any pain was bearable… unless it was his hyung’s.

 

“Jongie, can you hear me?” Joonmyun whispered, poking the younger boy’s face softly.

“Hyung?”

“Neh, it’s me,” the older brother lapsed into silence and Jongin wondered if he had fallen asleep.  As if he had read his mind, Joonmyun chuckled lightly.  “Neh, I’m still here.”

Jongin gave a slight smile.  “What is it, hyung?”

“I just wanted to say… mianhae.  Mianhae a million, gazillion, infinite times.”

“For?”

“For not being a good hyung to you.  For breaking my promise.  For everything.  I should be the one lying in the hospital bed.” 

Jongin tilted his head and caught his brother’s bitter expression.  “Hyung, don’t blame yourself,” he pleaded, wanting desperately to erase the pain in the older boy’s eyes.

Joonmyun didn’t respond; he only caressed his younger brother’s face with a heavily bandaged hand.

They shared a few minutes of comfortable silence before Joonmyun said in a cracked voice, “Jongie-ah, please just let me protect you in the future.  Don’t try to interfere with… your father and my business.  I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

The look the older boy placed on him was so stern and firm the words rolled off his tongue before he could think properly.  “Neh, hyung.”

 

“Gomawo hyung, for protecting me all the time.  Physically from Appa when he was drunk, and emotionally from the rest of the world,” he rested his head on his knees and rocked back and forth.  The piece of sea glass was still pinched safely in between his index finger and thumb.

“I know you had a lot of high expectations for me; I know you wanted me to achieve my dream to become a dancer; I know you were stupid enough to sacrifice yourself for me and my dream,” he was rocking faster now, each breath shorter and shallower than the previous one.

*Don’t hyperventilate, don’t hyperventilate* he told himself. *Deep breaths.  In, out, in out.*

“I’m really thankful to have you, I really love you a lot.  But hyung, how could you just leave me here alone?  I’d rather not achieve my dream and just be with you.”

 

“Hyung, hyung!  Look!  Woohyun paid me 4500 won for dancing at his party!” Jongin ran up excitedly to his brother, waving the notes in the air.

Joonmyun’s face broke into a wide smile as he caught his younger brother in a tight hug.  “Jongie!  I’m so proud of my Dance Machine.  Let’s go home quickly now, okay?  Or Appa will be suspicious.  Remember to hide the notes.”

“Neh, hyung.”  Chatting about random things, they walked home.

Once they stepped into the door however, things started turning ugly.  The living room looked  more trashed than usual and there were sounds of someone pounding the walls and screaming incoherent words.

“A-appa?” Jongin called out nervously.

The disheveled man appeared at their room’s doorway with bloodshot eyes.  “What the were you planning to do, you little bastard?” he growled menacingly at Joonmyun.

The latter blinked several times in confusion.  “M-mwoh?”

“Don’t act innocent with me.  You wanted to run away, didn’t you?!”  He pulled his hands out from behind his back, dangling a bag in front of them.

Jongin bit back a cry.  That bag contained everything they valued, because they planned to run away from home once Joonmyun turned 18 in a few days. 

Their father looked livid with anger.  The younger brother gulped.  He would surely break Joonmyun’s legs, but perhaps if he said it was him-

“It was all my idea.”  The older boy stepped in front of Jongin.  “Punish me if you want.”

Obviously drunk, their father smirked, swaying a little.  “I knew it.”

To their surprise, he didn’t try to beat Joonmyun.  Instead, he carelessly flung the bag at the boy before gesturing towards the front door.  “Okay, go ahead.  And don’t you dare come back.  Without Jongin; he’s my son, you’re not.”

Jongin’s eyes widened.  “Appa, mfff-” he tried to protest and found his father’s hand covering his mouth.

Their father then pushed his stepson out of the door roughly, making him stumble.  The drunken man wasn’t done yet though; he still had one more ace up his sleeve, and he took it out now.  “Little bastard~  Don’t you want this?” he sang in a horribly croaky voice.

Joonmyun turned to see what it was: a rather large piece of sea glass in the rough shape of a ‘J’ with a jagged inner curve.

The older man’s lips curled into an evil grin as he threw the sea glass onto the road.

What happened next Jongin remembered in slow motion. 

His hyung shouted ‘No!’ before diving forward in an attempt to catch the glass.  He saw a truck speeding along the road and tried to warn Joonmyun, but it was too late.  He could only watch helplessly as the vehicle collided with his older brother and drag him along a few metres before braking fully.

In that moment, the world around him stopped completely.  Somehow, he broke free from his father’s grasp and sprinted towards the figure lying immobile in a pool of blood on the road.  Dimly he could hear the truck driver cursing as he dialed for help.

All he could do was kneel beside his brother and hold his hands tightly, screaming his name over and over again.

Joonmyun’s eyes held an ocean of sadness, of pain, of regret.  “Mian, Jongie…” he murmured his last words faintly, pressing something into Jongin’s hands before his eyes closed and his head lolled to one side.

“Hyung!” he wailed until his voice went hoarse and the ambulance came – too late to save the world of a young twelve year-old boy.

 

“You must think I’m really pathetic, huh?” Jongin stopped rocking.  “You must be really disappointed when you see what I’ve become.”

He cocked his head to one side as if he was curious about something; his eyes were fixed on the piece of sea glass which he was now pressing against his wrist, the jagged teeth breaking his vulnerable skin and producing a perfect bead of bright red blood.

“Hyung, I’m the monster now, not Appa.  I’m the monster,” he laughed as if it was the funniest joke ever.

One finger traced a fresh cut lovingly.  “You’ll still love me, won’t you?  Because like Umma said, the outcome doesn’t matter as long as you’ve tried.  And god knows I’ve tried.  Jinjja, jinjja.  So you’ll forgive me, won’t you?  Because you love me a lot, right?”

His attention turned back to the sea glass.  To his eyes, it looked so beautiful through the layers of his blood.  “Wait for me hyung, in JoonJongland.  I’m coming now.”

He breathed in deeply through his nose and his mouth quirked into an almost smile, his eyes never leaving the sea glass as he purposefully plunged it deep into his wrist and pulled it sideways to slash open the veins.

The next instant, he gave in to the darkness…

Only this time, with a smile full of hope.

 

Hyung…

… thank you for giving me an escape.