体
I’ve got the time for more than talking
The sound of your voice is drawing me in
She rolled her window down as she motioned for the chauffer to stop. The white limo slowed as it neared the curb, and followed the pace of a slender silhouette walking down the cold pavement. She perched on the widow as she calculatedly adjusted her dark tinted glasses; People nowadays, especially youngsters, rarely recognize her with or without the shades, but her vanity wouldn’t allow her to take therisk of being spotted by the paparazzi in such an alleyway. It was minutes before twelve, exactly the right time if you wanted to pick the fresher ones. Fresh, she paused.Is there such in a place like this? She shook her head and silently laughed at the thought. She frequented the area only when she doesn’t have the time to maintain a decent boytoy or when she got bored with the one she has at the moment, which happens more often than you'd suppose. The chauffer pressed a button and the music stopped as they approached the target.
You say you got my groove I turn you on
Show me it’s true till the day is gone
"What you doin' tonight hot stuff?" She said in her low husky voice, an asset that skyrocketed her to fame which is now on the verge of its demise. She squeezed her shoulders together, accentuating her cleavage that was spilling from her low-cut neckline, puckering her nude colored lips that matched the flimsy chiffon gown that she was wearing. The young man stopped and looked at the car, slowly panning his eyes from its flawless bumper, to its well galvanized body, and finally to the owner, who was seated at the back, giving him smoke signals that he easily recognized.
There’s steam tonight
The heat is right
Shall we check it out?
"D'pends on whatcha wanna do..." The young man said in a provincial accent, and then spat out the piece of gum he's been chewing for an hour now. Chocolate brown doe eyes, dirty blonde hair, straight nose, and plump red lips: feminine features that contrasted with his manly jaw line and high cheekbones decorated with a checkered band-aid that clung to his alabastrine skin. He had a pretty face that complemented his brusque moves and attire. The cold claws of the night pierced his skin but he seemed not to mind wearing the thin white v-neck that showed off a hint of his pecs and his tattoo. He fingered his cross pendant that matched his silver earrings while intently studying his potential customer.
Come closer dear
It’s warmer in here
But you know that well
"Aren't you supposed to be telling me your price first?" She pulled the corner of her lips into a teasing smile. Her smoky eyes glinted at his prime physique, visualizing what will eventuate later as she bit her lip. The lad took three steps closer to the high-class vehicle and propped his arms above her widow, giving her a close-up view of his chest and half of his dimly lit face. He reeked a clashing mixture of cheap cologne, dope and minty mouth wash. "'Ow 'bout I show you what am worth and you d'cide?" He inhaled her musky perfume through gritted teeth, tasting her, before scratching his nose with his thumb. His face leaned closer to the middle-aged woman at the other side of the window. He dug his hands in his pocket as he waited for a reply, still bent and leering through the window. She tipped her head with a meaningful smile.
I’ll do anything to help you on
To hear you cry out a song
Seeing his cue, the chauffer pressed a button and the doors unlocked. The blonde man let himself in, pushing the woman to the other side of the backseat. She didn’t ask him his name but he went ahead and made himself known. "They call me Hero." He wasted no time and introduced his warm touch to her wanting skin. His hand slid up her thigh, in time with the tinted windows sliding close. The music went back on. And when he leaned closer, the music grew louder to drown the moans of two strangers seeking salvation from a borrowed touch.
I’ve got the time for more than talking
My hands want to glide across your body
You put me in the mood let’s work this groove
I feel my skin melting away on you
You’ll do everything to help me on
To hear me cry out so long
I’ve got the time for more than talking
My tongue wants a taste of what you’re fixing me
If you send me up high I won’t come down
My heat is rising I want all of you now
I’ve got the time for more than talking
*Karada – Tokyo Jihen
18th of June
2214h
FBI Pathology Department
"It would be best if you meet him outside. Jang and I will handle this." Agent Ahn's tone was somber and as cold as the ice box they were in. After eight years in service, working beyond office schedule and being called to report at unholy hours has been a routine. He usually just shrugs the lack of sleep or social life and just laughs it off while trying to investigate cases. But tonight’s case was something he couldn’t laugh about.
“We shouldn’t have called him in tonight. We could have waited till tomorrow to tell him and just get on with the postmortem ourselves.” She runs a hand through her copper hair which had droplets of sweat freezing at the ends. Kwon looked disheveled, she was supposed to fly to Canada that night to see her father, but there she was, face to face with Ahn, Jang, FBI’s top pathologist Moon Heejun and another dissected cadaver. She was in skinny jeans and an oversized white shirt but she looked overdressed in contrast to her seniors who came in with just overcoats and their sleepwear.
“Just do as you were told Kwon, meet Shim outside and keep him there. Better yet, send him home.” Agent Jang’s face was too tired to even spare a look at her. She would have protested that it was his fault that he called Changmin over but she knew that bickering with Jang was at the least of their priorities that night. For the first time, there was something that they can agree upon; Changmin shouldn’t be there. It was standard protocol that agents didn’t deal with cases involving people they were associated with: family, lovers, friends or any other type of close relations. Jang was not quite aware that Shim actually had friends as the latter was known for being a loner. Neither did he know that the man lying lifeless on the cold steel table was not just a mere friend to Changmin but in fact the closest definition of "family" to the young agent.
2231h
FBI Lobby
Changmin darted through the entrance but BoA’s firm grip on his arm deterred him. His sullen face turned to her with a look that would have been questioning, but his visage was washed of any expression other than that of pain. She shook her head wordlessly, her eyes telling him not to go. He knew the rules well. He was not supposed to be there but he couldn’t help but rush to his friend's side.
Yoochun was all he had. After running away from home at a young age, Yoochun was the only one whom he thought he could trust. Meeting him at the orphanage gave Changmin hope and made him believe that not everyone was out there to harm him. He filled the place of a friend, brother, mother and father to the young Changmin. But now, he lies lifeless inside FBI's ice box, as cold as the steel table he was slumped on. His comforting smile was forever gone from Changmin's dull mundane. Changmin was at a loss. It was as if the only flicker of light in his dark childhood suddenly fizzled out right before his very eyes.
“Can I just… at least see him?” He swallowed back tears that were not there. The night was darker than usual. Only a flickering lamp light illuminated the lobby but BoA saw the glint in his eyes. The small woman’s grasp loosened with sympathy. She didn’t know what to tell him. Knowing that his friend died was heartbreaking enough. Letting him see the severely desecrated body would be torture. But keeping him here helpless was also a great cruelty, a task she was supposed to carry out. She sighed and her heart dropped even lower than when she received the sad news.
She had known Changmin for five years but she had never seen this side of him. He was always strong and rational. Even in that situation, he was a lot calmer than he should have been. But his dropped shoulders and shaking knees gave him away. His steel façade was corroding with every moment and BoA could do nothing but watch. The stillness of the night did nothing but highlight Changmin’s grief stricken face with faint yellow glow from the lamp light. Only crickets’ sounds served as background music to the heart wrenching scene.
He sat on the waiting bench, resigned to the rules of his position. His senior did not move but her eyes followed him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of words to comfort him. The image of Park Yoochun on the gurney replaying on her mind did not help either ―naked, mutilated and dumped in a plastic bag. His body was still warm when they found him but saving his life was out of the list because his heart was nowhere to be found. Just like Kim Jaejoong. It turned out that Jang was right. It wasn’t some isolated murder case after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment