Chapter Text
A phone rings.
Jeongguk barely registers it when he stirs from his deep sleep. His mind is still hazy as he reaches blindly towards the sound of his ringtone, hoping that the annoying sound would stop. He barely opens his eyes, his hands wandering the queen-sized bed, searching for a warm body next to him instead of the phone.
He groans when he realises that the other side of the bed is cold. Blaming his sleepy mind, Jeongguk swallows a lump in his throat when he finally grabs the phone from the nightstand — he sits up in bed, squinting at the name displayed just a bit too brightly on the screen.
The apartment is dimly lit — the soft light prods at his dark grey curtains and he sighs with a heavy heart.
Pressing the accept button, he places it to his ear, hoping that the news that he knows is coming won’t actually leave his captain’s mouth. He mutters a soft yeah? into the receiver and is met with a moment of silence.
“We have another body.”
For once, Jeongguk thought his night was going fairly well. He didn’t wake up from his sleep multiple times per hour because of the nightmares that keep plaguing him mercilessly, and the thought of sleeping at least a few hours at a time if not the entire night without tossing and turning, wishing for a certain person to be next to him, sounded quite appealing.
As he slides into his car, dressed in black dress pants and a cutesy sweater his husband got him a few years back with a brown coat thrown over it, he wishes he wasn’t a detective. It’s not his first time wishing it, and despite enjoying the work (as much as one can enjoy solving crimes and chasing after murderers), sometimes he just wishes it would stop for a few days, maybe weeks, so his mind could rest.
He types in the address that Namjoon sent him in a form of a text message into GPS, leaning back on his seat as he watches it calculate the fastest route. When he’s told that his destination is forty-five minutes away from where he lives, Jeongguk almost tears up.
He hates driving. He’s always hated it.
His husband always drove whenever they went anywhere because he knew how much discomfort driving brought Jeongguk. Taking a deep breath, he shakes away any remaining thoughts of his husband and starts the car.
Watching as the street lights pass by in a blur is always Jeongguk’s favourite thing to do in a car, but now he cannot focus on anything else but the road signs in hopes it distracts him from intrusive thoughts that he knows are going to consume him.
Halfway through the drive, his car alerts him of an incoming call that he hesitantly picks up. “Hey, how far along are you?”
“Hyung, it’s been barely half an hour since Namjoon hyung called me. How fast do you think I can drive?” Jeongguk asks, his voice still raspy from not talking much since getting out of bed. Hoseok laughs on the other side, but it lacks any sort of happiness — it’s dry and Jeongguk knows exactly what it means.
“You’re there already?” he asks, sighing.
“Yeah, sadly I don’t live far,” Hoseok replies, taking a deep breath as he shuffles around. “Look, I know you said you don’t need a break after… everything that has happened, but are you sure you don’t need one? I think resting and relaxing might help you with everything.”
Jeongguk shakes his head, forgetting that his hyung cannot see him, “If I work I don’t have to think about it.”
“You know that’s not exactly true,” Hoseok hums. “Not when this killer is also imitating— uh, The Portrait Killer.”
Jeongguk lets out a huff. “Well, The Portrait Killer is behind bars. Where he cannot hurt anyone ever again. Therefore, this person is just a bad copycat or a fan of his. We’ll catch this bastard whoever he or she is soon enough when they make a mistake.”
Hoseok doesn’t say anything for a minute and Jeongguk is almost certain the call ended but when he checks the display screen in the car, he sees that it’s still going. Suddenly, the annoying feeling of shivers runs down Jeongguk’s back as he feels like he’s said something he shouldn’t have.
“Hyung?”
His partner sighs on the other side of the line. “Yeah?”
“Did I say something wrong?”
Hoseok stays quiet for another minute before he replies in a soft, but firm tone, “I think it’s better you see it for yourself.”
Taking a deep breath, Jeongguk ends the call and wishes that the heavy beating of his heart would calm down.
It’s not hard to spot a line of police cars in the distance — Jeongguk knows he’s arrived and sadly, he also knows that the beating of his heart only accelerates with each passing moment. He parks the car along the pavement, getting out and locking it. He wants to take his time before he has to be a witness to the crime scene but he knows that every minute is vital.
The copycat serial killer could already be choosing his next victim, so they must move fast. Hoseok greets him by the front door of the house that’s already lit and prepared for the forensics to scan and look around the perimeter. They are practically done by the time Jeongguk arrives, with only a few more touch-ups and standard procedures they need to get through before they can leave.
“Where’s the body?” Jeongguk asks Hoseok as they take the stairs up to the first floor of the house. It’s a house in a suburban neighborhood, located almost an hour out of Seoul. It might be three in the morning, and Jeongguk’s eyes are closing by themselves, but he doesn’t doubt the fact that everyone in the neighborhood has already heard of the news.
“In the bedroom. Like always,” Hoseok sighs, “The guy lacks originality. At least— At least The Portrait Killer knew how to be original.”
Jeongguk doesn’t really appreciate the hesitancy around the subject of his previous case but he knows that whoever this killer is, they are directly tied to The Portrait Killer. And it irks him because he just wants to bury that case deep in his memories, in fact, he wants to forget it.
But he knows that by forgetting it, he’s forgetting a lot of good memories as well.
“You can say his name, you know, I won’t break,” Jeongguk mutters bitterly as he pushes in front of Hoseok to get to the bedroom first. He’s not so sure about his words when he feels the tears in the back of his eyes that he swallows down before anyone can see.
It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen the exact same crime scene, it still almost makes him puke. He’s mastered the art of the poker face where he doesn’t show it but it doesn’t mean he can deny the fact that it’s true. There’s a hand on his shoulder and Jeongguk knows it’s Hoseok who’s just giving him support without saying a thing.
Just like every instance before, there’s a woman, who must have been in her mid-forties, with a knife placed in between her ribs. Her eyes are wide open, but there’s no sight of blood apart from the bloodstains on her white tunic. The expression on her face is that of horror, mouth ajar and he can already see the papercut on her lip where a plain sheet of paper was forced into her mouth.
“Same MO?” Jeongguk asks, pretending like the sight doesn’t affect him the way it actually does. Not because of the murder itself, but because it reminds him way too much of something so eerily familiar. Something he wants to forget.
“At first glance, yes,” Seokjin, one of the forensic scientists, takes a few steps forward towards the two detectives. He still has a camera in his hands and a protective suit so he doesn’t ruin any of the evidence. “But then if you look closer, something is definitely different.”
Jeongguk’s mouth dries up in a split second. “What?”
“Namely, the portrait. We all know he’s copying The Portrait Killer by drawing his victim’s portraits in great detail after they have already died, right? Well, the funny thing is, this portrait isn’t that of his victim.”
The nervous feeling in Jeongguk’s stomach tells him that something is wrong, very, very wrong.
“Jeongguk-ssi, I know it’s not my place to say so, but I think it would be better if you dropped this case. Let someone else handle it.”
Looking directly into Seokjin’s eyes, Jeongguk bites his bottom lip before he can say something that could potentially hurt the elder. “I’m okay. Now show me the portrait.”
From the corner of his eye, Jeongguk sees Hoseok look down on the ground with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything to stop Jeongguk from looking at the paper in Seokjin’s hands. He grips the edges of the bag in which the paper is encased, bringing it up towards the sky to look at it in the brighter light.
The moment Jeongguk realises what he’s looking at is the moment he feels like his breath has been knocked out of his body.
He’s looking at a detailed portrait of his husband.
“Okay, so let’s go through this again,” Jeongguk says, looking down at the table where all of the pictures of evidence they need are placed. “What do all the victims have in common?”
Hoseok is silent in the back as he sits in his office chair behind Jeongguk. He hasn’t opened his mouth since they have gotten back to the police station — Jeongguk appreciates the silence but is also annoyed by it and he cannot explain that to his partner without sounding like a complete jerk. So he just deals with it.
“First victim, a man in his seventies, was an art professor before he retired a few years ago. Another man in his thirties, an architect. And a woman, late forties, a teacher. What do they all have in common?”
Hoseok sighs, closing his eyes. Jeongguk looks at him in wonder with his right eyebrow raised — he sees his partner calming his breathing, and he prepares himself because he knows he’s going to get another lecture about dropping the case.
“You need to drop the case.”
Ah, there it is.
“Do you have another reason this time, or is it just because you don’t think I can handle it?” Jeongguk barks back as he sits down on his own office chair and rolls back towards his computer desk. “Or did you find another reason — a good one this time — by any chance?”
Hoseok opens his eyes and Jeongguk can see that there’s no hostility in them. They look tired, perhaps mirroring Jeongguk’s own. “I’m telling you this not as a partner, not as a detective, but as a friend, okay?”
Jeongguk nods, he knows the lecture has been long overdue.
“You cannot see the connection between these three people because you won’t allow yourself to. I know you’re trying to forget everything connected to the last case that we handled— and the case hurt me more than I care to admit, so I know it’s even worse for you. Taehyung was our friend, he was your husband, for fuck’s sake—”
Jeongguk wants to correct him, to tell him that Taehyung is technically still his husband since he refuses to sign the divorce papers.
“—and I can see you struggle every day because of it. It’s not every day that you figure out that the person you love is a sadistic murderer, Jeongguk-ah. I know it hurt you, and it hurt me, too. That’s why I suggest you drop the case.”
“No.”
Jeongguk’s voice is firm. “I don’t intend on dropping the case. Yes, finding out that the man we chased for three whole fucking years was right beside me hurt. It still hurts, hyung. But that’s what is motivating me to solve this entire thing faster.”
Hoseok takes a deep breath and exhales it through his mouth. “Alright. But if your mental state gets worse, I’m going to Namjoon and he’s assigning you to a different case, understand?”
Jeongguk smiles, although his smile doesn’t reach his ears. “Yes, sir.”
They sit in silence for a while as they contemplate the situation before Jeongguk finally speaks up. “You said I didn’t see the connection. So tell me, what don’t I see?”
Hoseok comes forward to the table where all of the pictures are placed and points at the first victim, an older man. “Taehyung’s art professor.”
It’s then that something clicks in his mind, that Jeongguk takes the picture in his hand and carefully examines him. “I think— I think Taehyung mentioned him before— I think he said something about him never liking anything Taehyung ever made.”
Hoseok narrows his eyes, nodding, “This is Taehyung’s ex.” He holds up the picture of a man in his thirties, the architect.
“How do you know this?”
There’s a feeling of unjustified jealousy in his stomach that he will never admit to anyone. The man is dead, his husband is in jail and he’s thinking about something so irrelevant — he must be going nuts.
“Stalked his profile on Facebook. Had some pictures of Taehyung on it.”
“Could be just a friend.”
“Sorry. What I meant to say was that he had some pictures of him and Taehyung kissing. ”
“Yeah, okay, then it makes sense. What about the woman?” Jeongguk asks, looking at the newly printed picture of the most recent crime scene. He doesn’t like the feeling he gets from looking at the photos but looking at them feels better than looking at the real crime scene. It gives him a sense of security that the crime scenes lack.
“Not sure yet, but it’s definitely going to tie in with Taehyung. It wouldn’t make sense if it didn’t, seeing as there was a portrait of him drawn, probably from memory.”
“Maybe he picked a random woman just to show us he could?” Jeongguk suggests, shrugging. “It wouldn’t be unheard of.”
Hoseok bites his bottom lip. “Let’s try to find out more about the woman.”
Jeongguk nods but as he’s about to turn back to his desk, a knock resonates through their office. The door opens and it reveals their captain standing there, peeking in and looking directly at Jeongguk.
“Jeongguk-ah, come with me.”
He stands up and follows Namjoon through the door and towards his office. Upon entering, Jeongguk sits down on the chair meant for a guest and waits for Namjoon to sit down as well. He knows that whatever it is, it cannot be good, and he cannot think he can deal with another shock so soon.
“I’m not dropping the case,” Jeongguk says before Namjoon can even open his mouth. “I’m alright, and I can work without letting my feelings influence my decisions.”
Namjoon stares at him and intertwines his own fingers on the desk. “Wasn’t going to ask you to step down from the case, Jeongguk-ah.”
“Oh,” comes from Jeongguk as he looks down at his own lap. “Then is everything alright?”
“All is well,” Namjoon says, but shakes his head afterward. “I have a request to make, one that I know will be hard for you, but I ask you to consider it anyway.”
Jeongguk nods, preparing himself for something horrible to come to light when Namjoon opens his mouth. “Hoseok-ssi told me about his discoveries last week, about the victims and how they connect back to Taehyung.
“It’s more than selfish for me to ask you of his because I personally wouldn’t want to go through with it, but here I am, asking you to do a thing I know will be pushing you through the heartbreak once more,” Namjoon mutters, taking off his glasses to wipe off the invisible sweat.
Jeongguk knows that whatever is coming is going to be tough to accept, but he also knows that Namjoon only does what he thinks is best for the city. Everyone at the Gangnam Precinct (at least the homicide division) went through a really tough stage a few months back when the infamous Portrait Killer was apprehended.
Namjoon and Jeongguk were the ones who hurt the most, however.
While Jeongguk had to see his husband being handcuffed and dragged away, Namjoon stood beside him as he watched the entire thing unfold through the eyes of a sibling whose younger brother was charged with over ten murders. It was truly hard for both of them — and they both know they are still recovering from the entire thing. Alas, they cannot be well only a few months after it has happened, not after that and not after the thorough investigation they’ve had to endure to prove they weren’t in any way Taehyung’s accomplice.
“I have a suspicion Taehyung might know who the killer is. Actually, scratch that, I’m certain he knows who the killer is. But I don’t think he will give it up willingly. He will want something in return,” Namjoon says, “And I think you are the only one who he’s going to listen to.”
Jeongguk closes his eyes, “You want me to see him.”
“Yes, I want you to consult him in your research, have him help. He will help if he knows you’re the head detective on the case.”
“But I’m not, I mean— I’m not the head detective on the case. It’s Hoseok hyung,” Jeongguk mumbles, looking down at his own hands, his lungs suddenly feeling as if they are filled with water — his breathing becomes heavier as he knows there are tears pricking at his eyelids, threatening to escape.
Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose, “He won’t know that, now, will he?”
Jeongguk lets out a dry chuckle that he knows sounded like he’s mocking Namjoon — he’s not. He’s just frustrated and frankly, a bit tired. The case has been a pain in the ass and the fact that everything seems to connect back to his husband, the person he wants to erase from his mind, doesn’t help. It also doesn’t help for Jeongguk to feel selfish, selfish because he doesn’t want to let go of the happy memories he and Taehyung shared.
And he’s more than aware that this case is the only thing that he has that is left of his husband (apart from the fact that Taehyung refuses to sign the divorce papers). Despite the pain, despite the fact that he knows how many people Taehyung hurt in the past, Jeongguk knows Taehyung still carries his heart with him.
“You underestimate how smart he is, Namjoon hyung,” Jeongguk says.
Namjoon doesn’t say anything else.
Jeongguk closes his eyes, hating himself for picturing Taehyung’s smiling face behind his eyelids when everything goes dark. His heart, his body, and mind still ache for Taehyung, his touch, and his presence. Perhaps even his kisses.
“I’ll think about it,” Jeongguk says after a moment of silence. “I promise nothing.”
He stands up, sighing and not looking back at Namjoon as he walks out of the office. He doesn’t want to think about it, though deep down he knows that the yearning to see Taehyung again is strong. Hoseok gives him a questioning look when he comes back to their office.
“Is everything alright?” he asks.
“Peachy.”
Jeongguk sits down, ignoring the thumping of his heart against his chest when he thinks about seeing Taehyung again. He doesn’t know whether it’s nervousness or dread that he feels. He can always say no, of course, he knows Namjoon won’t force him — but he also knows that it would solve the case a lot faster.
There’s another thing that scares him — what sort of payment would Taehyung request in return for information? It could be anything, and it might be something Jeongguk isn’t willing to pay. It could only result in him, just like Namjoon said, breaking his heart once again.
“I think we should start with people that knew Taehyung,” Jeongguk mutters, “Maybe, I don’t know.”
Hoseok leans back in the chair, “I hope you know this also includes you and Namjoon.”
Jeongguk nods, “I know. But we have to start somewhere, right?”
It’s midnight, and the quiet calmness of their office allows him to think better. There’s nothing here that reminds him of Taehyung — unlike being at home where everything reminds Jeongguk of him. Sometimes, when he enters the apartment, he can pretend he still smells Taehyung’s cologne and body wash. He can pretend Taehyung is home, safe and sound, not guilty of everything that he’s been accused of.
“Do we know whether The Portrait Killer had any accomplices? Someone he might have shared his crimes with?”
Jeongguk’s eyes are closing by themselves when he looks at Hoseok and he realises he hasn’t slept in over twenty-two hours. In all honesty, he thinks it’s better that way — less of his thoughts being occupied by the beautiful memories of his husband. Now, in the office, he can remind himself that he never truly knew Taehyung, whereas in his apartment, when he’s alone, he lets his thoughts wander back to the perfect life he had.
“I don’t think so,” Jeongguk purses his lips as he taps his pen on the table — a nervous habit he acquired not long after the incident that ruined his life. “Maybe he did, but he never mentioned anything about it.”
Hoseok sighs, letting silence fill the room before opening his mouth, “Namjoon told me what he asked of you.”
“You two seem awfully close nowadays, hyung,” Jeongguk laughs drily, hoping to stir the subject away from Namjoon’s request he hasn’t been able to get out of his mind. “Anything going on that I should know?”
Hoseok indulges him, “He asked me out last week,” he says, “Maybe it’s not a particularly good time or place for it, but he’s trying to move on from what happened with Taehyung and you’ve known about my crush on him since the beginning so I thought why the hell not.”
“I’m happy for you guys,” Jeongguk replies, happy for his friends and thankful for good news that feels like a breath of fresh air after what seems like ages of receiving only the bad ones. “It’s also about time he asked you out. I know he’s been trying to do it forever.”
“And you never told me?” Hoseok gapes, “Such a good friend you are.”
Jeongguk finally smiles, a genuine smile this time, as he leans back on his chair. His smile slowly drops, however, as he exhales the breath he’s holding.
“I think I’ll take it,” Jeongguk admits, “I’ll go see him.”
Hoseok hums, “Are you doing this because you want to solve the case or because you want to see him?”
Pursing his lips, Jeongguk looks at his partner — Hoseok knows him better than anyone so he knows he cannot hide anything from him. “Would it be bad if I said a little bit of both?”
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again, Jeongguk-ah.”
Jeongguk ponders his words for a few seconds, “I think— I think I never got any closure. I never— he was taken away in front of my very eyes, hyung. I couldn’t properly say goodbye, or anything, truly. It all happened in a blur, and I was clueless about what was happening until everything clicked and I just—”
He knows he’s rambling but he has never told his thoughts to anyone. The only one that he ever entrusted with all of his was his therapist he sees once every week. Park Jimin is the only one who knows these troubles and it took a lot of coaxing for him to open up at all.
After the incident, Jeongguk just felt like everyone around him could be lying to him. He hasn’t been able to get rid of the feeling completely, always thinking that someone will be taken away from him with evidence tying them to a crime scene.
Jeongguk knows it’s him that discovered who Taehyung really was — and he knows that he did the right thing by getting him arrested, but in the comfort of his bedroom, when he misses the hand around his waist and the heat of another body against his back, he wonders what would have happened if he had just turned the blind eye.
“I know it was me who connected the dots of Taehyung’s drawings being the same as the ones at the crime scenes, but I don’t think it settled in until the police came with the arrest warrant. I sometimes wonder, if I hadn’t told you and if you hadn’t been able to find the connection between his victims, connecting them to Taehyung, would he still be out there? Today?”
“We still don’t know how he chose his targets, Jeongguk-ah, I never connected anything.”
Jeongguk narrows his eyes, “What?"
Hoseok sighs, “He was brought in under the suspicion of being The Portrait Killer, there was never really any evidence, but at the end of the day, he confessed to everything. When asked about the days on which he killed as well as the bodies, he knew everything.”
Jeongguk’s eyes widen and without any warning, they fill with tears. “I never knew that.”
“I thought you did,” Hoseok says, “But I don’t blame you for not knowing. You weren’t yourself for at least a week after it had happened. You were like a ghost, pale, unaware of your surroundings.”
“I was trapped in my mind,” Jeongguk admits, “It was like my world had collapsed.”
Hoseok sighs, “I suppose in a way it did.”
“Why would he confess?”
Jeongguk leans back in his seat, looking up at the beautiful glass ceiling of Park Jimin’s office. Over the span of a few weeks, Jimin became somewhat of a friend to him. He helped Jeongguk understand his thoughts and his insecurities — it was easier to talk to someone who had no personal involvement with what had gone down only a few months prior.
“There was no evidence it was him, apart from the fact that his drawings looked similar to the one of the killer, but that was it. The Portrait Killer was one of the cleanest serial killers I’ve ever had the displeasure of encountering. There was nothing, no hair, no damned DNA that could tie anyone at the scene. The drawing thing could be disproven with a good lawyer and the fact that he rarely even drew in anything but tempera colors. The last time I saw him draw with a fucking pencil was in college so more than ten fucking years ago.”
Jimin is silent, listening to Jeongguk’s newfound frustration.
“Did you not want him to admit it?” Jimin asks, after seeing Jeongguk has calmed down just for a bit, although the angry tears streaming down his cheeks don’t yield. “Would you prefer a serial killer running around still? With you chasing him?”
“I would prefer my husband not to be locked up in some high-security prison. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m not happy that the killings have stopped— I just.” He takes a long breath to calm his breathing and his heart. “When you’ve been with someone for ten years, seven of them married, you just— you cannot imagine life without them.”
Jimin listens to him, and Jeongguk is glad because he feels heard. When it happened, Jeongguk felt trapped. Trapped and lost, thinking that nobody understood the pain he was going through. There definitely were people who were close to Taehyung that felt betrayal seep through the cracks in their hearts that Taehyung left, but none felt the pain of their best friend, the person that they have confided in since the beginning, betraying them and leaving them to rot alone.
“You know what was the last thing he ever said to me?” Jeongguk asks, “He said that he loved me. That he will always love me, and I just— I stood there, wanting to make sense of the arrest. By the time I got to the station, I was told Taehyung was The Portrait Killer and they will be moving him to Seoul Hospital for the Criminally Insane, and I broke down.”
Jeongguk closes his eyes and exhales the breath he’s holding. “Sometimes I think this is just a nightmare. That I’ll wake up with Taehyung by my side, kissing me good morning while making scrambled eggs.”
“Instead you have to deal with The Forger,” Jimin sighs.
“The who now?” Jeongguk asks.
“The Forger. The new serial killer on the loose? They said he has the same MO as The Portrait Killer had.”
Oh. The media already got their hands on information about the recent killings. Great.
“Superb,” Jeongguk mutters sarcastically as he shakes his head, “They are going to blow this out of proportion again.”
“Okay,” Jimin says, “Going back to Taehyung. Why do you think he did it? Confess to everything?”
Jeongguk thinks — it’s the question that has been bothering him for a while now and he cannot for the love of God, think of a good reason. He stays up wondering about it when he can't sleep, and when he’s tired of missing the heat of a body next to him.
“I don’t know. It’s the one question that I cannot seem to answer,” Jeongguk replies truthfully, “What do you think?”
He doesn’t expect Jimin to know, he never really knew Taehyung, apart from the stories that Jeongguk told him through his memories.
“Maybe he finally wanted to tell you the truth,” Jimin shrugs, “Maybe he’s struggled with keeping it a secret from you. As you mentioned before you were best friends before you were husbands, you told each other everything. Maybe he saw it as an opportunity to finally come clean.”
Jeongguk’s bottom lip wobbles, “Then he found a great fucking way to do it.”
“Would him telling you in private have a different outcome?” Jimin asks, “Do you think you wouldn’t have brought him in if he had decided to tell you when nobody else was listening?”
Jeongguk sighs, he hates the fact that he doesn’t know how he would react, and for once, he’s not sure his morals would have guided him correctly if that had happened. The impossible scenario where he would have to choose between the love of his life and his work, his life, and his career.
“Would it make me a bad person if I said that I don’t know?” Jeongguk asks.
Jimin gives him a sympathetic smile, “Of course not, Jeongguk. Taehyung has been a part of your life for so long, it’s natural for you to hesitate when faced with such an impossible decision.”
Jeongguk nods, supposedly feeling a little better about himself but not much. Sighing, he bites his bottom lip, wishing his life was different. Wishing that he didn’t have to do what he is about to and most of all, and hoping that one day he will be strong enough to move on.
Jeongguk doesn’t know how much sleep he’s been getting in the past few weeks but he knows it’s far less than what his body needs. His mind doesn’t want to shut down, no matter how hard he tries, and the never-ending movie of Taehyung’s pretty face keeps repeating on loop until Jeongguk already knows how it’s going to end.
He knows there will be a kiss on his mouth where Taehyung will lean down to graze their lips against each other, smiling softly as he looks at him — his eyes hold the damn stars in them and Jeongguk wants to relive that memory, not just in his head but in real life.
It’s Sunday. Namjoon forced Jeongguk to take a break for the day after he tried to wiggle his way into the precinct against Namjoon’s wishes the previous day — the captain gave him an angry glare as he grabbed Jeongguk’s shoulders, turned him around, and told him to leave. There was even a threat in his voice about taking him off the case if he doesn’t do as he’s told.
So Jeongguk is at home. His apartment. He doesn’t know whether home was the right word to use for the space he lives in. Sure, it’s where he sleeps, eats most of the time, and has most of his things. But the place has gone cold the moment Taehyung’s presence disappeared from it and it makes Jeongguk wonder whether he ever even considered this apartment his home. Was it home just because Taehyung was here?
The question of whether he should go visit Taehyung is replaying in his mind constantly, and as he weighs the pros and cons of the decision, he knows there are many more cons to it than pros. But he also knows that the pros are much more important to the world than the cons are.
As he’s making his third cup of coffee of the day, he hears a knock on the door. He doesn’t exactly know who it could be — Hoseok mentioned something about a date with Namjoon, and Jeongguk has long lost all of his other friends who got scared away by the fact that he married a serial killer.
He eyes the gun on the table and sighs, shaking his head. He’s just being paranoid.
Unlocking the door, he pries it open — the person in front of him surprises him, but when he sees the things the girl is holding, he’s no longer surprised.
“Hi, Mr. Jeon,” she greets, a small smile decorating her petite features. “I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Hayeon, right?” Jeongguk asks, hoping that his memory serves him right. “From the gallery exhibition?”
The girl nods, her fingers tightening around the little wooden box she’s holding. It’s open on the top, so Jeongguk can clearly see the things in it. Maybe his heart hurts even more, but he tries not to let it show.
“I—” Hayeon looks like she wants to say something, “I’m sorry. For, you know, kind of just appearing at your doorstep. The university asked me to give you the professor’s— I mean, Kim Taehyung-ssi’s things back. They said they would throw them away but I thought you might want to keep them.”
Jeongguk doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she’s wrong — he doesn’t want to see the things in the box, from Taehyung’s old paints to his tempera colors and chalk. It brings back too many memories of Taehyung being held up at the university with paint all over his nose and clothes, frustrated just because the painting didn’t come out as he wanted.
Sometimes he stayed so long that Jeongguk had to get him. He always found Taehyung just glancing at the painting in front of him, wondering, looking for something on it, lost in thought. And whenever he saw Jeongguk, a big, toothy smile would appear on his face, his baritone voice singing out his lover’s name.
“Thank you, Hayeon-ah,” Jeongguk says, grabbing the offered box. He sees Taehyung’s prized brush in the belongings too — one that Taehyung never went anywhere without. It was old, but Taehyung always loved painting with it.
“Of course,” she says, nodding. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I hope I didn’t bring back any unwanted memories. It hurt us all when we found out what he did.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jeongguk mutters, shaking his head, “It’s going to get better. It has to.”
Hayeon’s eyes were sympathetic, and it makes Jeongguk wonder whether she shares his pain. From what he’s seen when he attended the exhibitions that Taehyung arranged for his students, everyone around him loved him — from the teachers to the students.
“It has to,” Hayeon echoes his words.
Once she leaves, Jeongguk closes the door, leaning his back against it. He feels the tears swell at the back of his eyes as he looks down at the box — the memories that he’s forgotten flow back into his mind like an open dam, making him swallow a sob that threatens to escape his mouth.
Jeongguk decides to hide the box at the back of the closet — his heart is too weak to even think about throwing Taehyung’s art supplies away. If he wasn’t able to throw away mundane things like clothes, how is he to throw away things that Taehyung certainly loved?
The moment Jeongguk steps foot into the institution he wonders whether all of this is necessary. The smell of chemicals hits his nose the moment the door opens in front of him while he’s greeted by a smiling individual in the reception.
“You must be Jeon Jeongguk,” he says, offering him a hand, “I’m Min Yoongi, I run this hospital.”
The Seoul Hospital for the Criminally Insane is a place where dangerous people are sent, people that barely avoided death row and/or are too clever for their own good, possibly already escaping prison before. Min Yoongi rules over the hospital with an iron grip, and so the institution has gained a reputation of being one of having the tightest security out there.
“It’s a pleasure,” Jeongguk squeezes his hand. “I’m here to see Kim Taehyung.”
Yoongi hums, “And how does that make you feel?"
“What do you mean?” Jeongguk replies, wishing that the conversation would never happen.
“Well, I have ears everywhere, which means I know of your unfortunate situation with the recently caught serial killer.”
Namjoon has warned him about Min Yoongi. Ruling over psychopaths in the hospital with an iron fist. He mentioned that just as he’s capable of getting into any criminal’s head, he might try to irk Jeongguk as well. He was described as a bit crazy but that is what makes him capable of handling such an important position.
Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “So you own a television. I’m truly happy for you.”
His voice is dripping with sarcasm but he doesn’t care, he has more important things to think about — namely: how Taehyung will react, and the most important thing, how he himself will react. He’s not sure how much his heart will betray him once he sees his husband’s face for the first time after finding out his dirty secret that has hurt more than a dozen people.
Some physically, some emotionally.
But Taehyung, even if he wanted to or not, hurt countless people. And Jeongguk wants to give him a big slap over the face for it.
“I’m more or less talking about Taehyung-ssi and his obsession with art,” Yoongi replies instead, not paying attention to the blatant sarcasm in Jeongguk’s voice. “He requests new blank sheets of paper every day. The man knows nothing but art…” His voice trails off. “…And you.”
“And me?” Jeongguk asks, hating his heart for skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”
“Ah, don’t mind me,” Yoongi says instead as he checks his watch. “I’m late for a meeting. I hope you have a nice visit. And if you need anything, don’t contact me, I’m already busy as it is.”
Jeongguk wonders if ruling over psychopaths demands one to be a psychopath themselves.
Without a goodbye, Yoongi walks off with some guards tailing behind him, and Jeongguk is left with another guard who politely addresses him and tells him to follow. Jeongguk does as he’s told but he suddenly feels the eerie feeling that all hospitals bring him.
The whiteness of everything around him and the smell of chlorine annoy him — there are doors everywhere and he wonders which one is Taehyung’s. Is he placed in a room or does he have a cell? He knows pretty much nothing when it comes to the hospital because it’s so closed off from the public.
Even the smallest of information that the public gets to know about it can be written off as a conspiracy theory.
“Right through here,” the guard says, “I’ll be waiting right here if you need me. Scream for help if anything happens. Once you’re done, I’ll escort you out.”
Jeongguk sighs, bringing his hands out of his coat’s pocket — he notices the way they shake is abnormal and he wonders whether it’s just his hands or if his whole body is shaking. The guard looks at him with an eyebrow raised when he doesn’t enter immediately, but he says nothing, giving Jeongguk some space and some silence in order to arrange his thoughts.
“It’s the third cell, at the end of the hallway, Jeongguk-ssi,” the guard supplies, and Jeongguk wonders if he thought it would help ease the nerves.
It doesn’t.
Taking a deep breath, Jeongguk finally touches the doorknob and twists it, forgetting about everything else and deciding to only focus on what he’s here to do. He’s here to talk to a criminal about something he needs and he will accommodate him in any way he can as long as the criminal gives up the information.
The first cell is empty — maybe Jeongguk is grateful for it. The second one is not, a man is sitting in the corner and is throwing a bouncy ball against the wall. Jeongguk wonders if he needs some more time, if seeing Taehyung, and if hearing his voice is worth going through grief once more.
But he’s here already, it would just be a waste of time going back when he’s learned nothing. Taehyung is there, behind that one wall — Jeongguk knows he’s not ready to face him, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready.
“Are you going to stand there all day, my love, or are you going to look at me?”
Jeongguk thinks he imagines it. The soft baritone voice that wished him good night and good morning every day and night for the past ten years. This has been the longest that he’s ever gone without hearing it, and the moment the voice reaches his ear is the moment his heart bursts.
Lifting his eyes, Jeongguk sees Taehyung stand next to the see-through glass that limits his cell into what it is. He looks the same — except for the black roots peeking out from underneath his dyed brown hair and his classy outfit changed into that of a prisoner suit.
“There you are, darling. Still as beautiful as ever,” Taehyung says, giving him a big boxy smile that makes Jeongguk’s heart thump against his chest. He sees a chair placed in front of the cell, and it seems like the arrangements for his arrival have been scheduled in advance.
Thanks, Namjoon.
“Kim Taehyung-ssi,” Jeongguk says, keeping his voice from wavering (too much). “I’m here to make a deal with you.”
Taehyung’s eyes narrow as he purses his lips. He doesn’t say anything as he takes a few steps away from the glass and sits down on his bed.
Jeongguk does the same when he takes a seat on the chair prepared for him.
“I should have known you wouldn’t have come and see me on your own accord, love,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “I suppose I should be a bit sad, but I also understand.”
Jeongguk looks around the cell. It didn’t have much, apart from a bed, a toilet, and a washbasin. But on the floor, many sheets of paper have been carelessly thrown away, almost as if Taehyung wasn’t happy with the result on them.
And as Jeongguk eyes those used papers, his heart stops. Every single one of them was decorated with pencil lines of his own face and each and every one of them was a perfect copy of him. Each was different, different poses, sometimes just the face, sometimes even with him without any clothes.
Jeongguk swallows hard and moves his eyes up towards Taehyung once again, pretending like the pictures don’t affect him at all. He ignores Taehyung’s words, he promised himself he would as he knew in advance his husband would never stop complimenting him just like he did before he was arrested.
“As you might have heard, there’s a copycat killer of yours on the run,” Jeongguk says, pushing one of his shaky hands into the pockets of his coat although he doesn’t doubt Taehyung can see right through him. He might act strong but Taehyung has spent years at his side, he knows every little detail about him. “We have a suspicion you know who it is.”
Taehyung’s lips turn downwards and Jeongguk thinks he might be upset about the killer but instead he stands up from the bed and kneels down at the scattered papers. He starts gathering them in a pile, with the last one that is still unfinished placed on top.
“I thought Namjoon hyung would take good care of you now that I’m gone. Isn’t that his duty as an older brother?” Taehyung mutters as he stands up once more, the pile of papers still in his hand. He places them next to the stone wall and sighs. “Why are you on his case, love?”
Jeongguk takes a deep breath, ignoring Taehyung’s words completely, “We’ll give you a reward if you cooperate with us in any way you know and can. Of course, that doesn’t mean we’ll let you walk free but we can get you some more accommodations, whatever you wish—”
“Does that include you?” Taehyung asks, his eyes big and almost child-like. Jeongguk tries to cover his cracking facade — he knows that there’s a glass wall separating them and he thanks everyone in his life for it because he doesn’t doubt he would have jumped into Taehyung’s arms had it not been there.
“Taehyung-ssi, this is serious,” Jeongguk mutters, “Please cooperate.”
“Where did Taehyung hyung go?” Taehyung asks cheekily, “Maybe that will be my first wish, for you to call me hyung again.”
Jeongguk should have known this is why Namjoon sent him. It’s obvious that he’s the only one who can give Taehyung what he wants but that doesn’t mean he’s going to do it easily. He squeezes the folder of information he’s holding in his hand and hopes that everything will go smoother eventually.
“Taehyung hyung, ” Jeongguk mutters, wishing his heart didn’t skip a beat when a big boxy smile decorates Taehyung’s face as soon as he says it, “Will you help?”
“Of course, I will, love. You know I never could turn down any request you make.”
Taehyung is handsome. Even a month in prison didn’t demolish his beauty — if anything it made him look younger. Maybe it’s because he’s been able to get more sleep, perhaps do what he likes to do in peace without anyone bothering him.
Jeongguk knows why he has fallen in love with him, and he knows why the flame still burns strong to this day. Taehyung and he didn’t have the perfect marriage, they fought, too — but whatever happened, they were able to overcome it and resolve any issues they might have had. And that’s what Jeongguk loved about them, about Taehyung.
Their mundane life was everything Jeongguk wished for — both had stable jobs, Jeongguk as a detective, Taehyung as an art professor at a university. It wasn’t perfect, but it was very close to perfect.
“Stop that,” Jeongguk says in almost a pleading voice, “Please.”
Taehyung sighs, “How can I when the man I love with my whole heart is right there? While I’m unable to hold him?”
Jeongguk looks to his left, watching the long hallway and waiting for his tears to disappear. They are threatening to fall but Jeongguk refuses to look weak, even though Taehyung has seen him in that state countless times.
“The last thing I ever wanted was to make you cry, Jeonggukie,” Taehyung admits, taking one step closer to the glass wall. “Give me the folder, love, I’ll see what I can do.”
Taking a deep breath, Jeongguk places the papers on that little rotating thing that he’s often seen in movies but never in real life, and waits for Taehyung to receive them. His husband opens the folder, flipping through the evidence on the paper as he hums.
Once he stumbles upon the last paper, Taehyung genuinely laughs. Hearing it makes Jeongguk want to listen to it forever. It’s not menacing laughter or an evil one. It’s a genuine chuckle that comes from Taehyung — one that he didn’t think would ever hear again.
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, my love?”
Jeongguk knows exactly what Taehyung is looking at.
The divorce papers.
“It would make me very happy if you signed them,” Jeongguk mutters, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches Taehyung slowly lift his eyes up to look at him.
“Well, but it would make me feel very sad, so I won’t.”
Worth a try, he supposes.
But something in him is glad Taehyung refuses to do it and he doesn’t understand why. He should want to go as far away from the serial killer as he can. But somehow, he doesn't want to.
Taehyung doesn’t say anything for a while, and Jeongguk forces himself to look at the floor instead of him. He’s sure his husband would have a comment or two about it, and he refuses to give Taehyung more satisfaction. From time to time, Taehyung lets out a tiny hum or a grunt, as if he’s annoyed.
“Whoever you’re dealing with is an amateur,” Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing special about them.”
“Do you recognize the art style of the portraits?” Jeongguk asks, leaning forward on his crossed legs. He sees Taehyung’s eyes go blank — Jeongguk was always good at reading emotions but Taehyung suddenly made it seem as if there was no drop of emotion left in his body.
“I might, or I might not,” Taehyung says, “I won’t tell you for free.”
“So you do know who it is,” Jeongguk mutters, “Tell me.”
There, behind that facade of nothingness, Taehyung cracks a little smile. “And why would I do that, love?”
Jeongguk sighs. He knew this wouldn’t be easy, but part of him wishes Taehyung loved him enough to just tell him the answers. Even if Taehyung claims they are dealing with an amateur, this person, whoever they are, doesn’t leave clues.
Just like Taehyung didn’t. Almost as if they are following his lead.
“Because you want to be helpful and it might lessen your sentence?” Jeongguk tries, but his broken expression shows perfectly on his face. There are so many things he wishes he could ask Taehyung, but he knows there are cameras in every corner of the room — Min Yoongi doesn’t joke around. Even from the corner of his eye, Jeongguk can spot at least two.
“My sentence won’t be lessened, darling. I’m here for life.”
Jeongguk hates the fact that the nicknames still make his heart soar and his head dance. He wants to kiss his husband so badly, but he knows that no matter how hard he tries, he won’t be able to see Taehyung in the same light ever again.
He sighs and stands up. Barely glancing at Taehyung who watches him, he exhales the breath he’s holding. “Keep the folder. If you feel like telling me anything, feel free to call me anytime.”
“Tell you anything?” Taehyung asks once Jeongguk’s back is already turned towards him. “Does it have to be about the case or may I call just to tell you that I love you ?”
Jeongguk grits his teeth. “Only about the case. You try something else, and I won’t come down here again.”
He doesn’t need to see him to know that Taehyung is grinning like a Cheshire cat, but what scares Jeongguk is that his eyes are completely blank, wiped of emotion. “Oh, darling. I think you need me far more than I need you. We'll be seeing each other again very soon.”