By the time the car stopped and the trunk was finally opened Zitao felt physically sick, ready to vomit as he was blindfolded and manhandled out into the cool night air. His usually golden skin was blanched pale and the ever-present dark circles around his eyes even more pronounced. He managed to hold it in, though, putting up little resistance as he was blindly half dragged into the abandoned house, sneakers scuffing along the gravel. over the threshold and then down the stairs. He could hear Jiyongs orders and felt a little safer. Well, relatively safer at least.
Even when he was tied to the pillar, even weaponless and utterly defenseless.... even knowing, instictively in the very pit of his sick stomach, that Yifan was almost certainly dead, he wasn't afraid for his own life. As long as Jiyong was here he was sure he wouldn't be killed, at least. And the only good thing about that, in his mind, the way he felt right now, was that he was going to live to see those who'd murdered Yifan choke and drown gurgling in their own blood.
The craving for vengence was burning in his veins, making every muscle tense, opening hot, wet eyes when the blindfold was removed and fhe found himself glaring directly at Jiyong. The fire reflected back at him in the other's eyes until his head lashed to one side with the force of the strike, and he heard the other Koreans jeering as he tasted blood.
Zitao was really getting a trip down memory lane tonight; The small, tight space of the car trunk bringing back flashes of when he was just little and his mom used to lock him in the cupboard until morning to keep him safe when his dads "friends" came to pay them a visit. And now, this set-up right here was an awful lot similar to pretty much that whole first year of high school -- always made painfully aware that he didn't measure up in any way to the bully who had stolen his heart in secret. Maybe he enjoyed the hurt, or maybe he just thought he deserved it. In any case he just couldn't stop it, forever drawn to Kwon Jiyong like a moth to a flame, and it was his biggest downfall. It was going to destroy him, chunk by bloody chunk. And not only him, but those around him too. Yifan knew all this and still, now he was dead because of it. His own mother had no idea where Zitao was or if he was even still alive because of it, and now, here he was, tied up and bloodied in front of a wild-eyed Jiyong because of it.
They were still on the same wavelength in at least one way, Zitao glad to see the cronies ordered back upstairs. But that look in Jiyongs eyes didn't dissipate with the departure, and he watched through narrow eyes and knitted brow as the other let out his feeling in a quick explosion. Head pushed back against the cold hard pillar, blood trickled out of the curled corner of Zitao's lips when the tape was ripped off. Those words were like knives, slashing down the stupid dreams he should have known better than to hope for. He should have seen the signs that Jiyong wasn't okay, but maybe he just didn't want to.
"We were in this together," he strained, the words making him splutter on the blood that had gathered in the back of his throat, that had been unable to escape thanks to the tape and now the forced upwards tilted position on his face. "Why are you doing this, Ji?"
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Even when he was tied to the pillar, even weaponless and utterly defenseless.... even knowing, instictively in the very pit of his sick stomach, that Yifan was almost certainly dead, he wasn't afraid for his own life. As long as Jiyong was here he was sure he wouldn't be killed, at least. And the only good thing about that, in his mind, the way he felt right now, was that he was going to live to see those who'd murdered Yifan choke and drown gurgling in their own blood.
The craving for vengence was burning in his veins, making every muscle tense, opening hot, wet eyes when the blindfold was removed and fhe found himself glaring directly at Jiyong. The fire reflected back at him in the other's eyes until his head lashed to one side with the force of the strike, and he heard the other Koreans jeering as he tasted blood.
Zitao was really getting a trip down memory lane tonight; The small, tight space of the car trunk bringing back flashes of when he was just little and his mom used to lock him in the cupboard until morning to keep him safe when his dads "friends" came to pay them a visit. And now, this set-up right here was an awful lot similar to pretty much that whole first year of high school -- always made painfully aware that he didn't measure up in any way to the bully who had stolen his heart in secret. Maybe he enjoyed the hurt, or maybe he just thought he deserved it. In any case he just couldn't stop it, forever drawn to Kwon Jiyong like a moth to a flame, and it was his biggest downfall. It was going to destroy him, chunk by bloody chunk. And not only him, but those around him too. Yifan knew all this and still, now he was dead because of it. His own mother had no idea where Zitao was or if he was even still alive because of it, and now, here he was, tied up and bloodied in front of a wild-eyed Jiyong because of it.
They were still on the same wavelength in at least one way, Zitao glad to see the cronies ordered back upstairs. But that look in Jiyongs eyes didn't dissipate with the departure, and he watched through narrow eyes and knitted brow as the other let out his feeling in a quick explosion. Head pushed back against the cold hard pillar, blood trickled out of the curled corner of Zitao's lips when the tape was ripped off. Those words were like knives, slashing down the stupid dreams he should have known better than to hope for. He should have seen the signs that Jiyong wasn't okay, but maybe he just didn't want to.
"We were in this together," he strained, the words making him splutter on the blood that had gathered in the back of his throat, that had been unable to escape thanks to the tape and now the forced upwards tilted position on his face. "Why are you doing this, Ji?"