Title: give me a star (or stardust, if you will)
Pairing: Luhan/Kai
Rating: pg-13
Length: 10.6k
Warning:  murder, suicide, character death, mentions of psychological disorder
Summary: When Jongin was a child, he dreamt of dreams; when reality came crashing down on him, he dreamt of revenge; when he began solving crime, he dreamt of justice; now, when he’s with Lu Han, he dreams of love and a happy ending.

By the time you read this, I'm not too sure whether I'll still be around. I haven't been good to you these few days, and I'm sorry, but the case is getting to me. It's strange how it all started, but this is how it should end. Promises should not be broken, and neither should the law. I should be punished, it's all my fault for getting you into this mess. You shouldn't be part of this. I'm sorry.

But no matter what happens, regardless of whether I'm dead or alive, please always remember this:

I love you

I love you

I love you

To the world and beyond.

0

xoxo

There was a story that went like this:

Once, there was a young girl who wanted nothing more than to touch the stars. Quietly, she left her room and onto the treacherous path. She asked everyone along the way, whether they had touched them before. All of them, having seen it in the reflection of ponds, banks, grass, said yes, but she still could never touch them. Finally, upon the words of the fairies living in the forest, she set off on a long journey, to realise her dream.

It took her a horse and a fish to get to the Stairs Without Steps. Climbing it was difficult, but in the end, when she made it to the top, her eyes sparkled at the stars dancing around her, twinkling in the sky. The ground beneath her was pitch black, and she was afraid of falling, but she was still determined to touch at least one star, and so she tiptoed and reached out. And then, without notice, a shooting star zipped past, startling her and causing her to lose her balance. She tumbled and tumbled and tumbled, down back into Earth. But when she woke up, she smiled, because in her fist were the wisps of stardust that she managed to touch and grab.

In the real world, a little boy had heard this story. And he, too, wanted to touch his very own star.

That, is where his story begins.

He is awoken by an urgent call from his superior.

"It's a murder case- no, a serial murder case. I'll send you the address, head down to the crime scene immediately."

And this is how Kim Jongin is up and about at 7.34am on a Sunday. As he simultaneously brushes his teeth and puts on his work attire (a simple white tee coupled with a pair of jeans), a wave of nausea hits him and he's left with hands gripping the sides of the basin tightly. His knuckles turn a ghostly shade of white, but he waits until the banging in his head fades away before he lets out the shaky breath he doesn't know he's been holding.

It's been going on like that for a while now; maybe he should go and see a doctor to have his headache checked.

Still, Jongin has got a case to handle. It's probably a big case as well - he doesn't usually get called up unless it's something the basic police force can't deal with.

The day is going to be long, and it's unlikely he'll even return home before the sun rises again. He doesn't want to take the risk, and so before he leaves his apartment Jongin pops a panadol pill into his mouth. Hopefully the headache wouldn't attack again while he was still at work.

It takes Jongin approximately twenty minutes to arrive at the crime scene. It's a little out of the boundaries of Seoul, cut off from most of the bustling population. Jongin turns left at a particular winding road and he's greeted with a rundown building. The usual killer hangout, Jongin thinks as he steps out of his car.

When he flashes his identity card the policemen guarding the area lets him in quickly, where Joonmyun is waiting for him.

Jongin switches to work mode quickly. "So how is it?" he asks, putting on a pair of surgical gloves.

Joonmyun leads him into the crime scene while explaining. “It’s the third case so far. There’s no distinct link between the three murders, but the murderer has been leaving some notes. It’s handwritten, which gives us a little lead, but this person has been clean with his murders and it’s hard to paint a clear picture as to why he or she would kill.”

“Send me the results of the analysis for the previous two cases,” Jongin requests and Joonmyun nods. Eventually, they arrive in a room with whitewashed walls. No furniture covers the concrete floors, and all there lies is a stiff body.

“The victim is a male, of twenty-five years old. Based on his rigor mortis, he was killed two days ago, via gunshot to his brain. Instant death, they say. No one found out until a couple of hours ago, because the factory isn’t open on weekends.”

Joonmyun pulls out a small folded piece of paper from his pocket. “This is what the murderer left behind. He’s been doing it for the other two as well.”

Jongin takes it from Joonmyun politely. He recognizes the parchment, because he has it in his own house as well. It’s shimmery and white - almost as if the murderer had wanted them to notice it. He opens the piece of paper, and all it reads is:

8

xoxo

“Is that all?” Jongin finds this peculiar, because he has never encountered such an open yet mysterious hint before. Murderers don’t usually leave traces as obvious as this, and it’s handwritten.

Joonmyun sighs gravely. “It’s the same for the other two, but the numbers were 10 and 9 respectively. Looks like this person is counting down.”

“So we can roughly estimate the number of times he or she is trying to strike,” he mumbles.

Jongin looks around the scene of crime for a few more hours, poking around to find evidence that might have gone unseen by the rest, but he comes up with nothing. The rest of his afternoon and evening is spent waiting around for the results of the autopsy and handwriting analysis to come out. Results for both come surprisingly quick.

“Well,” Yixing starts, “The only injury he has is a shot to the head, as you already know. He died from internal bleeding. That’s all.”

It’s not at all useful, but Jongin thanks Yixing anyway. When he goes up to Baekhyun, however, he gives him a bit more lead.

“The handwritings on all three papers are the same – consistent, deep, and neat. The murderer was definitely calm while writing this.” Baekhyun points out the deep indents in the words and numbers. It’s nothing like Jongin’s, who scribbles out everything because he can’t be bothered with penmanship when there are bigger things that matter out there.

When he gets home, Jongin feels like he’s fried his brain. All he can think about is that the murderer is definitely sly and daring, as if challenging the police force to catch him before the tenth murder.

I’ll catch you, I’m Kim Jongin, I won’t let mistakes and crimes happen.

That night, Jongin falls into a lonely slumber.

Nights are when Jongin lives his life again. His dreams come alive and there's no way to hold them down. He often feels helpless - when you're in the dark, you struggle with the monster clinging onto your chest, refusing to let go. Jongin heaves and thrashes but he can still feel the remnants of fear from years ago wrapping around him. It's as clear as when it had happened; his sensory functions all triggered and it all feels so real - too real.

Sometimes the dreams are good. Sometimes, he dreams of the times before the incident, where innocence was at its peak and Jongin could still imagine a happy future. He remembers the sun shining down, hitting the ground with the right amount of warmth that's not too hot, and not too cold. He remembers the feel of the soft grass tickling his neck and legs, the slow summer wind caressing against his hair. He remembers that on his tenth birthday, his parents gave him a brown beaded bracelet as a birthday present - "It will protect you and ward off all the danger in your way, always keep it on, alright Jongin-ah?"

But many times, Jongin falls. When he clutches onto the beaded bracelet, he's brought to the other reality that's far less innocent than what a ten year old should experience. Images replay vividly in his mind, engulfing and numbing him beyond senses. Jongin feels like he's bound by chains and muted by darkness, struggling against the invisible force but also against a monster that is very real - one that can hurt him both mentally and physically.

"So you do want to play as well, little boy?"

Help me.

Jongin wakes up, tear-stricken and body sticky with sweat. Unconsciously, his fingers go and twirl the beads on his left wrist; a sense of security. He doesn't stop until the first peek of daylight shines into his bedroom. That's when he's sure the monster has gone away. That's when he's sure he can attempt to be normal, and continue his routine until night once falls again. He's afraid, but life goes on.

You see, happy stories don't entail happy endings.

They're just stories that haven't ended yet.

Jongin was ten when he was sent to the orphanage. The first few months were difficult for the caretakers; Jongin barely opened his mouth, to speak or even eat. Every day, he had to be coaxed into ingesting some food into his stomach. Every day, he sat curled up in his bed, staring holes into the hollow walls for hours. No one could shake him out of it. Even when they pulled him out into the outdoors to play, he would persistently sit out on their activities, preferring to bask in the shade of the big oak tree.

The incident prior had shaken him badly, and all the adults in the orphanage knew it. Indeed, they pitied the young boy; they pitied how such a tragic incident had broken up his family, and also himself. It was as if he had been destroyed and thoroughly traumatized, his whole future ruined in a flash. But pity as they may, no matter how hard they tried to get Jongin back into the civilization - they just couldn't seem to do it. Jongin was just as hard and determined to shun off everyone in his current life.

It was months later, shortly after Jongin celebrated a very lonely 11th birthday, when another caretaker arrived into the orphanage Jongin was situated at. She was tall and pretty, hair always tied into a neat ponytail - a fresh graduate just helping out while waiting for her results. For days she noticed the withdrawn boy, yet what caught her attention the most was how no other caretaker tried to go to him and convince him to join in. It was most definitely strange.

"Hey, why isn't anyone getting that boy to take part in the orphanage's activities?" She asked one of the long-time volunteers. "Oh, that's Kim Jongin," the other replied, and then she told the graduate Jongin's story.

"That boy is really a sad case, he's deeply impacted by the happenings, so now he refuses to talk and do anything at all."

She knew it wasn't the way to live life - no, life had to go on even if the goings got tough. Slowly, she inched over to the boy, cautiously sitting down next to him. Jongin barely flinched at all. It was as if he didn't notice her presence.

"You're Jongin right?" A few seconds passed before he nodded. He didn't seemed annoyed at her, so she continued on. "I heard about your story, um..." How would she put it across to him?

"If you're going to tell me to put it away, then sorry, your advice is useless." The graduate looked up in surprise. Jongin's voice came out extremely firm and deep. It was something she hadn't expected from a child who was seemingly always in high emotional distress.

"All I think about, when I close my eyes, is that man's face. All I dream about, is how I can do the same thing to him."

It's the slight shiver that's sent up her spine that tells her this is all wrong. "All I really want is revenge," he said quietly, as if afraid that the wind would carry his words away for everyone else to hear.

They sat in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few minutes. She fidgeted for most of the time. She knew his thinking isn't right. Revenge isn't the solution to anything.

Before she realised, she blurted out, "But Jongin, for the people you love, you need to be strong. Thinking about revenge is for weaklings." From the corner of her eyes, she saw Jongin's own widen. She's got his attention now.

"Besides, your parents wouldn't want you to be like this. If you really want to, make catching all criminals your dreams. Don't dwell on revenge, it just isn't worth it. Rather than revenge, I hope you think of it as justice." She didn't know where the sudden confidence in her voice came from - heck, what did her words even mean! But she wasn't going to waver right now, she knew she was going somewhere.

This time, she turned to face Jongin directly. His expressions weren't giving away anything, but it was obvious that he was in deep thought.

Just like that, hours passed. When the skies turned a musky shade of grey and Jongin still hadn't uttered a single word, the graduate stood up, extending a hand out towards Jongin. "We have to go back inside, dinner's going to be served soon."

To her surprise, Jongin took it. Their walk back was equally as quiet; only accompanied by the soft rustles of the fallen leaves under their feet.

When they arrived in front of the dining hall, where everyone else was already seated, Jongin tiptoed up to her ears and whispered inaudibly: "Thank you." He didn't wait for any reply before running straight for his seat.

To anyone, she was just an university graduate trying to coax a small kid into opening up.

To Jongin, she was the messenger and push that he needed to spiral him into the life he was fated to lead.

"Okay class! You'll have to stand up and tell the rest of your classmates what your ambition is! I'll just pick a random student... Jongin?"

"I want to be a police officer in future, so that I can catch all the criminals and bring the victims to justice."

Jongin lifts his head up from his work desk at the sound of his phone ringing, brain heavy and groggy. The laptop in front of him jerks awake under his sudden movement as well, momentarily blinding him in a hue of bright white light and in the form of an empty word document.

And the light doesn't stop shining-

"Hello," he drawls, memories of last night drawing to a blank.

"Another case." Joonmyun's voice is curt - a rarity. It's enough to bring Jongin back to consciousness. Including this case, the serial murders would add up to six. The previous two cases Jongin had worked on gave him no lead at all. He still derived no answer.

"It's at the back alley of Apgudeong. Same death method. I hope you know this is getting serious, the public is starting to complain about the government not doing enough to protect the citizens. Our department, especially, is getting a lot of backlash for this."

Jongin nods, and as if Joonmyun could see, he continues on.

"Considering the severity of the situation, I've hired a good friend of mine to help out. He's a private detective, but he's good, you'll see." Jongin purses his lips and frowns. He doesn't like working with others. It just means half the efficiency and twice and trouble.

"Jongin." The resigned sigh is evident in his voice. "Just, just work well with him on this case, okay? We don't want more people dying."

Seconds trickle pass. Jongin recalls Joonmyun as more than his superior at work, but also a reliable friend he could always count on. Back when he was still a quiet rookie, dusting the files of old cases and brewing coffee for his seniors, Joonmyun had reached out to him and allowed him to help him out with his line of work - ultimately helping him to rise up the ranks in a short period of a few years. It was him who had seen Jongin's potential, and it was also him who had become his confidante; the many hushed words Jongin had once exclaimed to him while drunk on soju, are the ones that Joonmyun has never revealed and probably never intend to.

Besides that, Joonmyun always had good judgment. "Okay," Jongin says, finally conceding.

Joonmyun sounds considerably pleased as he gives Jongin a couple more instructions.

"And if you ask me," Joonmyun ends off cautiously, "I think the two of you will work well together; you're both on the same side of law and humanity anyway."

At the break of dawn, the air is still stale. A dim speck of light peeks through behind the unlit buildings, shining down on the new day ahead. There’s more unknowns for the world to clamour about, for the world to be horrified of. A new day signifies the locked up insecurities fading away, gathering warmth from the sun to bring about a blanket of hope to cover a world of lost souls.

No one says it, but Jongin, Jongin knows he’s one of them. He doesn’t forget the many sleepless nights that he’s woken up from in cold sweat, memories of his past haunting him in forms of monsters in his dream. When he wakes up, he wakes up in gratifying silence – one that he doesn’t appreciate. There’s nothing more terrifying than hearing your own panting and cries, amplified by the four walls that seemingly cave in to strangle him, to take away all the breath he has.

No. Jongin never likes the night. At least, he hasn’t since-

“The night sky is filled with stars. They look out for you. So, Jongin, if you ever get lost at night, listen to the twinkling and watch out for an arrow in the sky. Because even amidst the darkness, there will be light to guide you home.”

Nights bring him a silence that is not at all comforting.

There’s no twinkling now.

Jongin taps impatiently on his steering wheel as he waits for the traffic light to turn green. He’s in a state of unrest, unable to keep still. He fiddles with his phone, checking his messages and deleting his junk mails. When he looks up the light is still red.

He sighs. The world moves too slowly for his liking. Slowly, he leans his head against the window and looks out. The sun is barely out, and there’s not much life on the streets of Seoul. Shops aren’t due to be opened yet; the only people who are milling around are those on morning runs.

As he scours around, his eyes lock upon the side mirror of his car and he freezes.

Dark, kohl-lined eyes take in the form of fire combusting, burning brightly – burning dangerously.  There’s a sticky trickle of red on the side of his pink-purged lips, which lift up ever so slightly to form a smirk. His skin is perfectly golden tanned; there are no blemishes to destroy the flawless demon right in front of him.

But what scares him most, is that he’s looking at himself.

Jongin blinks in confusion and trepidation, and the image in front of him flicks back to his current self – dark circles, dishevelled hair, bad skin. He blinks for a couple more times and grips the steering wheel even harder, but nothing in the mirror changes again. It’s not until the he hears the incessant sounds of horns behind him when he realizes that the traffic light has already turned green. Putting it all behind him, he drives forward, mind set on his destination. There’s a case to solve, he can’t lose concentration.

The area is cordoned off by the time Jongin arrives, keeping the small but growing crowd of passerby away. He flashes his identification card and is brought straight into the crime scene, where the body lies.

He bends down to inspect, but is cut off by a slightly soft voice: “A single bullet right through the head – a clean kill, just like the others before him. It’s hard to find a killer who leaves no trace, and this person is no doubt smart, I’d have to admit.”

Jongin turns his body and is greeted by an unfamiliar face of doe eyes and full lips. It takes him a moment to process that this person standing in front of him is a male.

As quickly as he comes, the guy moves his head away from the crooks of Jongin’s neck. “I believe Joonmyun hasn’t introduced me to you yet.”

“Hello,” the man says, extending his hand out towards him, “I’m Lu Han. Nice to meet you, please take care of me.”

Jongin gives a quick look over: sharp nose, blemish-free skin, lean and tall. Lu Han has the face and physique of an idol, not a private detective recommended by a senior of his post. But he knows not to judge a book by its cover, and so he grasps the hand firmly and shakes. "I'm Jongin, the one in charge of this case."

"I know." The slight lilt in his voice and the playful shove he gives makes Jongin think that Lu Han's just messing with him. "Say, do you want to grab some coffee before heading to your place? I know this really good cafe nearby."

"What." If Jongin was drinking, this would be the moment where he coughs violently and attempt to keep his lungs in his stomach. "What do you mean by 'heading to my place'? We're supposed to be working."

"We are! All the documents and stuff are at your house right? We can't work empty- handed, you know." Lu Han has the audacity to cluck his tongue at Jongin. Jongin just doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Is this really the partner Joonmyun had picked out to work with him?

"We're taking your car, I took a taxi here."

That's it. Kim Jongin is done with life.

“There’s a similarity in all cases. As we all know, the murders are all well-plotted and the killing catalyst is a shot through the head. We’ve ran a background check on all of the victims; none of them are related to each other in any way. Different ages, job scopes, schools – there’s very little chance of them knowing each other. We can’t predict who’s going to be targeted next. All we know is that there’s going to be 3 more victims- Lu Han?”

The said person looks up from the rubix cube in his hand. “What?” he questions, as if he hadn’t not been listening to whatever Jongin had just said.

“Did you even hear what I just told you?” Jongin rubs his knuckles into his temples. The headache has been getting increasingly worse and having an uncooperative work partner does not help at all.

“You just said what I already know,” Lu Han replies, and with a swipe he completes his cube. “Just like solving this rubix cube, there’s a protocol for everything. Take it easy, Jongin-ah.”

Jongin is mildly irritated. Maybe Joonmyun is wrong. Maybe he doesn’t need a partner to help. Maybe-

“There actually is a similarity,” Lu Han comments offhandedly. Jongin’s ears perk up immediately. “If you check their background again, you’d realize they all own guns.” He points at the laptop screen listing their profiles. “It’s all registered. Well, not all of them. But most of them do.”

“So you’re saying this case has to do with guns?”

Lu Han nods. “Most probably. I mean, the killer himself uses a gun to shoot, what’s there to rule out?”

Jongin ponders for a moment before he grabs the nearest pen and paper to jot it all down. When he’s done, Lu Han snatches the paper away from him and reads.

“Hey!”

“Mehrong.”

“We can’t work like this,” Lu Han complains a few days later as he flails all over the couch. Jongin barely flinches.

“Why is your house so dull? There’s no colours at all, what is this, you’re such an old man and I’m older than you!”

"This is my house," he replies calmly, "does it even matter to you?" Lu Han scoffs and flails even more in response. "Well yeah! I need to have a conducive working environment in order to think! All I can think about now is how I want to smash paintballs onto your walls. This grey couch seems like it's going to swallow my brain up. And is that fireplace I see. You should paint your walls blue, they say it's good for memory."

Jongin frowns as Lu Han continues to rattle on. It's his own house, why should Lu Han care so much anyway?

He doesn't register what's going on until he's pushed off the couch by Lu Han, and also pushed out the door. "W-what?! Lu Han!"

For someone smaller in frame, Lu Han surprisingly has a lot of strength. "Come on, we're going to go home shopping!"

Once again, Jongin groans. He didn't sign up for this.

Lu Han ends up bringing the both of them into a small antique shop in an isolated corner of the street right up. Jongin enters it warily, eyeing every ornament in sight as if they were tiny explosives. Lu Han, on the other hand, greets the shop owner cheerily with a wave, before dragging the unwilling latter over to a section.

"Hey, buy this," Lu Han says excitedly as he points at one of the lava lamps on display. Jongin watches the wax inside rise and fall with a judging eye. "And why would I even buy this?" he questions, eyebrow raised.

Lu Han waves him off. "Not only is it for decorative purposes, you can also watch it when you're feeling stressed up! Supposedly you'll feel calmer. And for someone like you," Lu Han gives him a complete look over - Jongin feels violated, "I think it's necessary. Also, it lightens up your whole apartment!"

Jongin blinks at his work partner. Did he drag him all the way here just to get a lava lamp?

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll pay for this. But the next time, I won't!"

When they get back to Jongin's apartment twenty minutes later, Lu Han fusses over the lack of electronic plugs. He manages to find one at the back of Jongin's bed, and immediately plops it on the bedside table and switches it on. Orange spots dance around in the lighted liquid, and for a moment, Jongin feels lighter, the stress prior washing out. Lu Han grins. "I told you it's good," he says proudly as he slaps Jongin on the back.

Hours later, when Jongin's propped up on his bed reading his novel, he eyes the lava lamp on his right. Slowly, he reaches out to turn it on, once again getting fascinated by the calming shades of colours rising up and down.

He smiles to himself. Maybe Joonmyun was right; Lu Han was a good partner after all.

It’s dark and quiet.

Jongin is scared he can’t find his way again.

It's rare that Jongin sleeps over nine in the morning, so when he feels the strong glares of the sun's rays already piercing at his sleep-crusted eyes, he knows it can't be good.

Out of reflex, he reaches out to his phone to check the time - his display time states 11:05am in bright, glaring characters, as if teasing him for his demise. Underneath, there's also 30 missed calls and more than 10 unread messages waiting for him to respond to. Jongin lets out a frustrated groan, kneading his temples as he feels an invisible beat forcibly hitting on the inside of his head. He's ed, he knows it.

He randomly swipes at one of the more recent missed calls, and it dials him through. It merely takes a few seconds before a shrill voice pierces his ears.

"JONGIN ARE YOU ALIVE."

"Yes I am," Jongin replies, feeling slightly irritated by Lu Han already. He should have dialed for Joonmyun instead, at least his voice was soothing for the ears. "I'm sorry, I might have overslept, I didn't hear my alarm."

The incredulous scoff is carried over the phone speaker well. "Jongin-ah, you overslept for one whole day! There was a case yesterday and this morning as well! We couldn't contact you at all, I knocked on your door but you never opened it."

Jongin lets this piece of news reel in. If he had kept them waiting for 24 hours, a few more seconds wouldn't hurt.

"So another two has died," he asks to confirm himself more than anything. Lu Han spills the details of the deaths and locations and tells him to "hurry your up, Joonmyun doesn't look very happy". Jongin is out of the house in five minutes.

Lu Han is the first one to approach Jongin when he arrives. "Your collar is up," he says, and he helps him to flatten the said collar. Joonmyun goes up to him next.

"Joonmyun-hyung, I'm sorry." Joonmyun's face softens when he hears the sincere apology. Jongin has never slipped up like this before. It's his first time, and he's sure that Joonmyun will relent, because he's Kim Jongin, hardworking police investigator that has never failed in catching a criminal before.

Joonmyun gives a hard sigh. "I'll cover up for you for... whatever happened yesterday. But don't let that happen again. Anyway, Lu Han has already had this place searched, I'm sure he can give you the insights." He gestures for Lu Han to continue on. Afterwards, he turns around to leave them to their own devices. Jongin mentally remembers to treat Joonmyun to lunch as a thank you.

"So... Loss of time, yeah?" Jongin looks up to focus on Lu Han. Absentmindedly, he nods and scratches his head. He sees Lu Han furrowing his brows before reaching out to grab the hand on his head.

"What's this?" The knuckles on Jongin's right hand are bloodied and pretty bruised up. The strange thing is, Jongin doesn't remember where he's gotten them from.

"It wasn't there when I went to sleep..." he mutters. "Maybe I knocked my hand against the wall or something."

"Maybe." Lu Han looks at his knuckles unconvincingly, but Jongin wouldn't blame him. He himself didn't think that happened anyway.

Lu Han lets go of his hand in the end, allowing it to swing lifelessly by Jongin's side. He stares at the bloodied hand harder, as if that would produce answers to the question.

"Well, on to the cases, shall we?" Lu Han gives him a tight smile and Jongin can't help but nod along.