Two-faced (multi-part - homin - dark) - part 2.1

[evangellie.livejournal.com]

Two-faced (2.1/3)
hints of homin

R

swearing, eating disorder, trauma
references to past non-con, character death and violence

8'147 words (had to cut the fic into two posts)

thanks to simp_anna for the support and advice, and rememberedstars & mistingdreams for betaing. &hearts

There had been a bank-robbery. Changmin had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Now Yunho has to pick up the pieces.

first part here (it's better to read in the intended order though it would work the other way around; it could also stand alone)

Yunho was sitting on the sofa at their flat and had been going over their schedule for the next month with their manager Dong Chang for, what had seemed to Yunho, forever. To his relief, they were almost finished – they just had to clarify a few more details; Dong Chang hyung had always been very thorough – and Yunho leaned against the sofa, checking his wristwatch. “Shouldn’t Changmin be back already?” “Well, he said he might be a bit late. I wouldn’t worry,” answered Dong Chang. “Let’s focus on the schedule for a few more minutes, shall we?” Yunho sighed, absentmindedly looking at the television that had been playing mute in front of them. His brow furrowed and he unconsciously leaned forward. “Can you pass me the remote, Hyung? It’s on your left,” asked Yunho, never detaching his gaze from the screen. “Why? What’s wrong?” asked Dong Chang, giving him the remote, while turning his head to take a look at the television. “Isn’t that near here? Where Changmin’s…” On the screen, a few people were running out of a bank holding stacks of money in their hands high above their heads while the police encircled them to proceed to their arrests. Strangely, those people did not seem to resist but seemed rather relieved. A female off-voice narrated: “This morning, a hold-up was committed at the Shinhan Bank’s branch office that resulted in two deaths…” Yunho got up and stepped closer to the television, holding his breath. “…the police forces had been at a loss on the course of action as the demands of the criminal were impossible to fulfill when suddenly the hostages came out running while holding large amounts of money. This was thought to be a strategy of the criminal so as to mingle with the hostages and run away. However, it was in fact a decoy to produce confusion and allow the criminal to escape through a ventilation shaft.” The screen showed two stretchers, both covered by red blankets being brought to the ambulances. “The only casualty was a 25 year-old female employee who was shot in the head...” Air rushed out from his lungs as he felt relief flood his mind, though not without a tiny hint of guilt for feeling good at someone’s else’s death. “ ...The weapon was found on one of the employees who is still at the moment being interrogated as a possible accomplice. The criminal was found dead on a higher floor of the same building. The circumstances of his death are still unclear though a suspect was found at the scene of the crime. The sum…” That was definitively Changmin’s bank office. Even though the only victim had been a female, Changmin had been there and had maybe been a hostage too. There had only... well, there had been one casualty but they had not said anything about people who might have been injured. Yunho took his mobile phone out of his jeans back pocket and had to try twice to dial the right numbers only to finally hear the annoying female voice of the answering machine. Yunho hang up, nearly throwing his phone away when Dong Chang caught his eye. He had decided to call the police and the grim set of his features only confirmed Yunho’s fear. His nod and the gesture towards the car keys caused Yunho’s vision to become blurry for a second; his legs felt suddenly cotton-like. As he shook his head, his vision cleared and his legs seemed to solidify. They felt more like wobbly pudding. “He’s at An Sae Hospital. Let’s go.” “At a...”  Yunho’s windpipe closed again, words getting stuck in his throat. “How is he?” “They wouldn’t tell me over the phone,” and seeing the way Yunho’s hand was gripping the back of the sofa, Dong Chang added, “give me the keys. I’ll drive.” º   Yunho wished the car would go faster, that Dong Chang would not drive so carefully. The voice of the radio reporter was going over and over the same facts about the bank robbery – a 25 year-old female employee.... possible accomplice.... circumstances of death unclear... – Yunho turned it off in annoyance and the rest of the journey was made in an uneasy silence. At the sight of the many journalists waiting like vultures at the hospital entrance, Yunho adjusted his sunglasses and his beanie. It was a futile precaution though; one of the journalists caught sight of him. She did not recognize him instantly. Her nose, red from the cold, had been scrunched but then it smoothed over and a determined smile flashed on her lips – quickly hidden by an appropriately serious expression – when she finally pinpointed his identity. Yunho hid behind Dong Chang but the damage was done and the journalist rushed to his side. He could see her brain working quickly, assuming the worst cases – the most profitable cases – scenarios. “Aren’t you Yunho U-know from TVXQ? What brings you here? I don’t see your band mate? Was he perhaps involved in the bank robbery incident?” Dong Chang cut her short: “We’re indeed here to see Changmin; however it is a completely unrelated matter. He hurt himself during practice.” He smiled. “The fans can feel at ease. It’s only a minor injury that will not impede the completion of DBSK’s schedule. Now if you please...” Unwillingly, the journalist, even though she did not seem convinced, let them go: “I hope his recovery will be quick and painless.” Yunho nodded in thanks and they finally entered the hospital. The hot air inside made him feel worse, stifled. He proceeded to take his scarf and beanie off and followed Dong Chang to the counter where they asked for information about Changmin. They were told that the patient had only minor injuries and was awake in room number 23 though he could not yet receive any visit so if they could please wait here. “If he’s awake and has only minor injuries, why can’t we see him?” asked Yunho, pushing his sunglasses up so he could stare at the nurse. “The police are speaking with all the witnesses of the robbery. I’m sorry but we can’t let you see him yet.” That didn’t stop Yunho – Dong Chang at his heels – to go straight to room number 23. He took a deep breath and pushed the door, or at least tried to, but the door was locked (in what world did hospital doors lock anyway?!) and the blinds were drawn. Dong Chang shrugged and sat down on one of the green chairs that were scattered throughout the hallway, patting at the one next to him. “We should calmly wait. You heard the nurse. He has only minor injuries. I’m sure he’s perfectly fine.” Dong Chang smirked, “And he’ll kill me if I let you worry about him and start to fuss.” Yunho let himself fall on the seat; a worried frown still etched on his face. Dong Chang patted him on the back. His “don’t worry” wasn’t really effective. He rubbed his chest. It felt like it could explode at any time. The door opened and two men dressed in black suits – they looked nothing like policemen – came out of the room. A third man, the doctor probably, stayed on the doorsill, looking profoundly displeased as they were quickly making their way down the hallway. When they were out of sight, the doctor’s gaze fell on Yunho – who had hurriedly stood up – and Dong Chang. “You’re here for Mr Shim I suppose?” he asked, letting the door close as he came to stand in front of them. “Yes. I’m his manager. How is he?” “We’ve had troubles contacting his family.” “I’ll contact them immediately,” Dong Chang assured before catching Yunho’s worried eyes, “but could we have some information on Changmin’s current state?” “Please.”   The conflicted look of the doctor softened at Yunho’s plea, “Mr Shim is mostly alright. He seems to be a bit confused. This is probably due to the shock caused by the events and his head sustaining an injury. He also has a sprained ankle that will take more or less two weeks to heal if he uses crutch and avoids any type of exercise. He is now with our counsellor.” He paused, hesitating yet looking straight at Yunho.  A few seconds passed – an eternity for Yunho as he was waiting for a “but” that would shatter his illusion that Changmin was, more or less, fine – and the doctor finally talked the few words Yunho wanted to hear most: “If you could please patient for a while more, you’ll be able to see him later.” The wait also felt like an eternity; it had only been half an hour though. Yunho had been left alone as their manager had to contact Changmin’s family and rearrange – cancel half of it at least – their schedule for the week. Yunho stepped into the room, his gaze immediately falling on the figure half-lying, half-sitting in the bed. He could only see the back of Changmin’s head as Changmin was absorbed in the contemplation of the outside world. He stepped forward until he stood at Changmin’s feet. Still no sign of acknowledgement. “Changminnie?” This seemed to startle Changmin as he quickly turned his head to face Yunho. Yunho managed to stop himself from gasping as he saw Changmin’s bruised face, his contused nose and temple, an IV drip attached to his arm. Most of his shock, however, came from the bluish marks on his throat, one side partially hidden underneath gauze. Changmin stared at his face, as if transfixed, but his troubled look disappeared and his lips stretched upwards, approximating a reassuring smile. “Hyung, don’t look so worried. Half of it is much less painful than it looks.” His voice was hoarse and unsteady to Yunho’s ears. Changmin sighed. “See what happens when I try to be a hero.” “I think all heroes end up in hospitals on their off days. I don’t see why you’d be the exception. How are you feeling?” “As if I’d been trampled by an elephant, the usual stuff for us heroes.” Yunho was happy to see Changmin’s smile become more sincere, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a few steps to sit on the bed but Changmin’s recoil startled him. Changmin’s eyes were wide open as he had instinctively ducked behind his left arm, nearly ripping out his IV drip. Yunho stood up, uneasiness spreading in his chest as he saw the bruises on his wrist. “Changmin?” Changmin shook his head, his arm falling on his lap in an attempt to cover it with a blanket. Changmin seemed as startled as Yunho was and he looked away, firmly setting his gaze once more on the window. “I... Sorry.” “Whatever for? What happened exactly?” Yunho’s hand hovered towards Changmin’s shoulder, wanting to comfort him, but he let it drop, clenching his fist at Changmin’s silence. Well, he had been the victim of violence. Maybe he had been held at gunpoint, maybe he had even seen the casualty mentioned on the news be killed! Of course he’d be rattled and skittish. He may even feel guilty. “It’s not your fault you know. Sometimes, bad stuff happens. Do you want to talk about it?” “I guess I’m still... not realizing what happened. It feels unreal.” He turned to look straight at Yunho, shocking him by the intensity of his gaze, “I’ll be fine, though.” More than a statement, it sounded like a decision of a very stubborn person. “You know it’s alright if you’re not ok, right? Dong Chang hyung has cancelled most of your schedule so you can rest and your family should be here soon.” “No!” Changmin seemed as startled as Yunho by his vehement protest. “I mean... I’ll feel fine in no time and the make-up noonas always do a fine job at covering a few bruises." He sighed. "There is no need for my family to come. No need to worry anyone.” “Changmin, that’s not reasonable. You do remember you have a sprained ankle. And of course, we all worry about you.” Changmin scoffed, “Not everyone does.” “What do you...” but Yunho was interrupted by a nurse coming in. The time for the visit was up. “Don’t think this conversation is finished.” Changmin ignored him, staring at the window again. “Anyway... Rest well. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. You’re sure you don’t need anything?” “Mm.” “Ok, see you then,” Yunho said, attempting to elicit a worded response but Changmin had already stopped listening. º Changmin was still looking at the window when Yunho came back the next day; however, he was sitting on the edge of the bed dressed with the clothes their manager had brought him. There was no IV drip attached to his arm anymore but a pair of crutches was resting next to him on the bed. Yunho let the door close to make Changmin aware of his presence. Changmin’s shoulders twitched slightly but he remained seated, his back towards Yunho. “They’re letting you go home?” Changmin sighed, but he straightened his back. He grabbed hold of the crutches, standing up on his right leg, his left leg bent so his feet didn’t touch the floor. He turned around to face him, “hyung.” Yunho had decided that he would not push him. Changmin would open up eventually, wouldn’t he? He just had to be there, ready when that happened. He smiled, “Yeah?” “I... Yesterday...” Changmin bit his lower lip. “Don’t worry. Are you ready to go? Do you need to wait for the doctor or something?” “I... No, I mean, yes I’m ready. Let’s go.” Yunho handed him sunglasses and a beanie. “There are quite a lot of reporters outside.” Changmin took them, carefully avoided touching Yunho’s hands. He stood up in equilibrium as he awkwardly adjusted the beanie to cover his bruised temple, having refused any help. A woman entered the room. She nodded at Yunho and turned to Changmin. She stretched her arm towards him, her hand holding what looked like a business card. “For when you want to talk.” Changmin made no movement to collect the card. “You will need to someday.” She handed it to Yunho who took it with both hands, briefly glanced at the writing – the words counsellor and psychiatrist were on it – before putting it in his coat pocket. She nodded at Yunho again and left after a small take care. Yunho raised a questioning eyebrow at Changmin, but he avoided his gaze. Wordlessly, Changmin left the room, or tried to; he had trouble opening the door while holding onto the crutches. Yunho opened it and feigned not seeing Changmin’s frustrated expression. Changmin mumbled thanks and went through the door with Yunho following closely. “Aren’t we taking your clothes?” Yunho had seen the clothes Changmin wore during the attack on a chair with one of Changmin’s favourite scarfs neatly folded on the top. He shook his head and hurried his pace though he slowed down in hesitation at the sight of the group of fans and reporters waiting outside the exit doors. Yunho’s hand went automatically to Changmin’s lower back, pushing him softly. He frowned at Changmin who tensed under his touch. “Dong Chang Hyung is waiting for us in the car, he’s just outside.” The automatic doors slid open and they stepped outside to be bombarded by shouts of ‘Changmin get well!’ from the fans and by journalists’ questions – even some from newspapers and TV-channels that were not usually interested in the whereabouts of idols – about Changmin’s involvement in the hold-up. Changmin froze causing Yunho to nearly collide into him. His sunglasses hid half of his face but Yunho could feel his shaking body from where the tip of his fingers made contact with his lower back. Yunho took hold of his waist to gently push him towards the waiting car while declaring that Changmin was mostly fine and that he just needed some rest so if they could please step aside. Once safely inside the car, Changmin relaxed after leaning away from Yunho. What troubled Yunho wasn’t how Changmin put distance between them – after all Changmin wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of person and they had had their fair share of fights – but that he seemed to be doing it unconsciously. The ride home was spent in almost complete silence after the first few minutes in which their manager had explained their schedule. Apparently, since Changmin had insisted, they would go on as planned except, as Changmin obviously could not dance, they would perform mostly ballads in addition to Changmin simply standing at the edge of the stage while Yunho and the dancers would perform the choreographies when required. Yunho was not happy with Changmin’s lack of resting time, but Changmin had been very adamant on keeping on working. º   The first day back at work had been strangely normal even though Changmin’s voice had been a bit raw, his eyes a bit too shiny, his make-up a bit too heavy, his clothes a bit too sweaty because of his buttoned sleeves and covering scarf. It was afterwards, when they were left the two alone in their flat that Yunho distinctively knew that their dynamics had shifted. And it made him feel uncomfortable. “Changmin, what do you want to eat today?” Changmin opened his eyes, looking at Yunho from his sprawled position on the sofa, his crutches neatly lying on the floor. “I don’t really care actually.” “You sure?” Changmin nodded. “I’m not that hungry either. Must be the medication.” “Still, you should try to eat something.” “Mm.” Yunho opted for some ramyeon since it was easy to make and he didn’t fancy ordering take-out or wasting energy on cooking something. He placed the two steaming bowls and chopsticks on the small table in front of the couch. “Come on; get your legs off the couch so I can sit.” Yunho’s tone betrayed his amusement. Changmin made no move. “Too lazy. Get your own chair.” Yunho chuckled. Changmin was already feeling better, it seemed. Yunho patted Changmin’s legs and was in the process of holding his legs to make himself some space when Changmin abruptly sat up, effectively kicking him out of the couch. “Changmin, what the...” Yunho stood up and rubbed his right thigh that had absorbed all the weight of his fall. Changmin looked away at Yunho’s questioning stare, “ah... sorry.” And he scooted on the very edge of one of the corner of the couch. “There. You can sit now.” Yunho raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Is there a hidden message? I’m not that fat, am I?” He sat down and patted the spot in-between them both. “Come on, you don’t need to sit on the edge, with half of your butt in the air.” But Changmin looked away, pulling at his sleeves until they covered half of his hands. “I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll go to bed early.” He stretched to get a hold of his crutches. Yunho frowned. “At least take a bite?” Changmin held his crutches with one hand and grabbed his chopsticks with the other to slurp some noodles. He slid the chopsticks back on the table. “There. Ate. Good night.” Yunho could only watch him wobble his way to his room, shutting the door behind him.   º   It was always just some details but they kept adding up. Even though it didn’t really affect their work, it worried Yunho. Indeed, working Changmin did, even more than before as he spent his free time reading and studying in addition to the several vocal training sessions and, once his ankle was healed, the numerous dance rehearsals he had insisted on having added to his schedule. Yunho could only observe as Changmin’s sleeping time was gradually reduced. Changmin seemed to be pent up on appearing fine, as if nothing had happened – he even joked at his participation in the hold-up whenever he was asked about it on TV, and, to Yunho’s grief, he seemed determined on avoiding him. Yunho couldn’t remember the last time they had a conversation that lasted more than 10 minutes and wasn’t work related. Work-related conversations could, of course, go well over past those 10 minutes. He sighed; checking himself in the mirror one last time, wishing that the photo-shoot would be over soon. A coordi-nuna appeared behind him in his reflection, startling him. He was going to playfully scold her about making him have a heart-attack but the frown on her face stopped him. He raised an eyebrow. She threw a glance in the direction of Changmin who was being photographed in cute poses. “Is he on a diet or something?” The question surprised Yunho. He forced himself to remember the last time they had a meal together and could only come up with the times the crew had teamed up into cornering Changmin to have a meal all together. “Not that I know of.”   “Well, if he is, do tell him to stop because I won’t have any more clothes for him to wear,” she replied, jokingly. “No seriously. I know idols are pressured into being skinny but there is a point when someone can become too skinny. Nuna is worried, ok?” “Ah, ok. I’ll try talking to him. He’s probably overdoing it again. You know how he is.” “Thanks.” She smiled before she was called away. Yunho turned around to observe Changmin. It was true that he had lost some weight and that the trend of showing his chest had stopped in favour of covering him up, a trend that had started in order to cover the bruises but the bruises had now faded. Changmin should be back to normal, showing more skin, shouldn’t he? Yunho’s eyes followed the contour of Changmin’s body, noticing how skinny he had become. His gaze inadvertently landed on Changmin’s lips just as he licked them. He quickly looked up, locking gaze with Changmin’s questioning stare. Yunho shrugged and Changmin went back to doing silly poses for the photographer. Changmin had finished so Yunho prepared himself for his solo shooting. He smiled at the photographer to signal he was ready, well, as ready he would ever be to make silly poses with a... stuffed  toy that had all the appearance of a pig. A sudden laughter, a laughter he didn’t hear enough, distracted him as he saw Kyuhyun enter the studio and throw himself at Changmin’s throat. Changmin seemed to welcome the hug, not shying away from the touch as he did with Yunho. He felt his chest clench, a spark of something akin to jealousy flaring up, but that couldn’t be right, could it?   º   Three in the morning. Yunho sighed as he slipped out of his bed. A glass of water might help. He couldn’t seem to sleep properly as he kept thinking about Changmin’s behaviour. He was at loss to what to do. He grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water. Taking a few sips, he made his way back to his room but came to a stop when he noticed that light was coming from underneath Changmin’s door. He knocked on his door. When there was no response, he pushed it open sneaking a glance. His gaze landed on Changmin’s sleeping form. He was sitting on his bed, leaning against a cushion, the book in his lap threatening to fall from the slack grasp at any time. Yunho stepped inside and made his way to Changmin, carefully avoiding the scattered books lying on the floor. They were all science fiction books. Yunho wanted to chuckle at Changmin’s fascination with supernatural stuff; his mind supplying him with the bittersweet memory of young Changmin talking to aliens whenever he felt lonely in Japan. His smile fell when he realized that maybe this sudden renewed interest in supernatural stories might be related to him feeling lonely again. The glass of water safely on the nightstand, he carefully took the book – it had an English title, Masque – away from Changmin’s grasp and rearranged the blanket covering him. Changmin’s posture looked a bit uncomfortable but if he moved him, he was bound to wake up. Yunho sighed and took away Changmin’s glasses to put them down next to the glass on the nightstand. Satisfied with his work, he stopped to look at his sleeping face. It was the most peaceful face he had seen on Changmin since the hold-up. His hand came up to sweep away the few strands of hair that were falling into Changmin’s eyes. He let it hover over Changmin’s cheek. On a sudden impulse, he leaned down and kissed the corner of Changmin’s lips. What was he doing? He took a step back, nearly falling from his sudden movement. He breathed deeply. He had been feeling more protective after the hold-up incident but he had put it on the account of guilt, of not having been there to help Changmin. He was reminded of the feelings of jealousy he had felt earlier. He had felt hurt that Changmin was pushing him away, pushing him away much more than anyone else. His train of thoughts was interrupted as Changmin shifted, something like a moan escaping his lips. Yunho looked, really looked, putting aside his feelings to be as objective as possible, and saw the arm being bigger than the forearm. He saw the elbow, the shoulder and the collarbone jutting out, all bones and no meat. He saw the hollow cheeks, the paleness of the skin, the dark circle underneath the eyes not covered by make-up and the hair falling out on Changmin’s pillow. Anxiety spread through his chest. Why can’t you tell me what really happened to you? Why aren’t you talking to me anymore? Aren’t we friends? “Yunho? What are you doing in my room? What time is it?” Changmin had woken up and sprung from his bed, knocking the blanket away. Yunho had been muttering without knowing it but he didn’t care as he could only stare at Changmin’s skinny waist, his lack of thighs more apparent now that he was only wearing boxers. Changmin followed his gaze and quickly crouched down to cover his legs with the discarded blanket. “Changmin...” Yunho stopped, uncertain on how to ask. “What?” Changmin stared at him, daring him to ask while at the same time silently begging him to ignore the obvious problem. “This... can’t go any longer. You have to talk to me. And if it’s not me, then someone else. This is not healthy,” Yunho realized that his voice had wavered. “It’s my life. I’ll do whatever I want, so don’t meddle,” Changmin answered dryly. This ignited a spark of anger in Yunho. “You’re part of my life and a damn important one! I can’t stand by and let you destroy yourself! Can’t you see I care about you and seeing you hurt will only hurt me?” Changmin turned away. “Then stop caring.” “Changmin!” Yunho took a few steps forward, his hand falling on one of Changmin’s shoulders. “Don’t touch me!” Changmin had slapped his hand away. He quickly stood up, letting the blanket fall away again, and went past Yunho to go straight into the bathroom. Yunho followed him but he heard the bathroom door being locked. Still, he tried opening the door. “Changmin, open up, please.” Yunho leaned on the door and whispered against the door, “I just want to help you.” He pressed his ear to the door but he couldn’t hear anything. His eyes were starting to burn. He needed time to think and he supposed Changmin needed some time too. “I’ll be in my room if you need me,” he hesitated before adding, “I’ll always be there for you so...” The ordinary and healthy Changmin would have hit him for saying something so mushy but it had been a while, maybe even before the hold-up, that he hadn’t felt that Changmin was truly ok. Maybe he needed the help of... Yeah, he had to think some more. º   It was two days after, two days filled with awkward silences and Changmin avoiding him, that he found Changmin asleep tightly curled up on the floor of the living room. His mobile phone was in pieces, lying broken a few inches away from his feet. His fist, tightly clenched, held a small piece of wrinkled paper. He slowly slipped the paper out of Changmin’s hand without waking him and unfolded it. He was surprised to read the same few words he had already encountered once before: counsellor, psychiatrist. Months ago, he had left the card in Changmin’s room, on his desk, while Changmin had been out on one of his vocal training sessions. He picked up the pieces of Changmin’s phone and put it back together. He tried to turn it on. Surprisingly, it worked and the melody of the phone woke Changmin up. He looked at Yunho, confusion written all over his face until he saw the card and his phone in Yunho’s hands. Colour drained from his face and he quickly stood up to grab his possessions but the sudden change of position left him visibly dizzy and he swayed. He held on to Yunho’s chest to steady himself. Once Changmin felt alright and had quickly taken his hands away from his body, Yunho, lips in a tight line, handed him the phone and the card. Changmin hesitated and then swiftly took both of the objects to hide them in his pocket. “I... I’m going to take a shower,” Changmin muttered, unable to look at Yunho, and rushed towards the bathroom, the door slamming shut. Yunho felt tired. He rubbed his closed eyes, his decision now taken. He made his way to his room and sat down on his bed. He took a deep breath and opened the drawer of his nightstand. He rummaged for a few seconds before finding a little scrapbook. He picked it up and a small sheet of paper fell down from it. The sheet seemed old and worn out, as if it had been handled many times. He looked at it for a while, still unsure, but he reminded himself that it was worth it. He picked the sheet up and took his phone out of his pocket to dial the string of numbers that were messily scrawled on his small piece of hope. He closed his eyes, his heart beating quickly in his ears as he heard the first ring, hoping that someone would pick up but at the same time hoping that someone wouldn’t pick up. The second ring. Then, the third ring.   On to part 2.2