coley_merrin | [Fic] The Life I Live

Title: The Life I Live
Author: Coley Merrin
Rating: R overall
Pairings: Zhou Mi/Kyuhyun
Genre: AU, fantasy, angst, romance

Summary: He woke in a world that wasn't his own, to the eyes of a tiger. What he found in an idyll forest was uncertainty, trust, and the most elusive emotion of all...

Fic Archive

A/N: Well, here I go again. I was attempting to drown myself in my pillows one night, and into my head popped a single image. And because I tend to do so, I opened my big mouth and started talking about it. And then started writing it. I will not complain too loudly, lest the next one end up to be some kind of monster. :| Kyu and Mi want to run far, far away from me by now.

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Part One * Part Two

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He dreamed of fire, fire that leaped into the air, gold and orange and red. He felt the heat of it on his skin, and it comforted but did not burn. When he rested his hand down, it fell on a cool, mossy root. A tree. It reminded him of the time he had gone camping, a whim of a classmate’s in elementary school. They had come home sick on sweets, faces ash-smudged, and for him at least, absolutely covered in mosquito bites. His mother had made some comment about his blood, but he had decided right then that camping was not so much his idea of fun.

But this was no camping ground, the fire in no concrete pit. This was a forest. He could hear the call of night birds above the crackling flames, feel the wind against his skin. As he tilted his head back to see the stars, he heard a noise, a small twig cracking. He stared across the fire, and in the shadows, looming, a tiger, crouched to spring. The fire would not stop it, running would not escape it.

He sat, placidly, as the big cat’s paws struck him square in the chest, the heavy body pushing him back. As the tiger’s head dropped near, fangs bared, he reached for the heavy fur, and thought, Ah... Ah, finally, you’re here...

Kyuhyun woke with a start, the dream swirling around in his head. He groaned and fought his way out of his sheet. The fire, the tiger. The feeling of rightness instead of panic. He pulled his slacks and dress shirt out of the closet still troubled by it.

By the time he had dressed and was ready for the day, the dream had almost faded. Still, as he turned on the kitchen faucet, he rubbed at his chest with one hand, where the tiger’s paws had hit. The dream had just been so weird. If he had seen any television with animals lately, maybe it would’ve made sense, but he hadn’t... He hadn’t watched any nature shows lately, so he had no idea where even the concept of the dream had come from. He glanced up at the window he habitually left cracked, and froze.

His apartment was on the ninth floor. No one, not a window washer, no one had access to his windows. But there on the window’s outer sill, so skinny not even a bird could land there, was a small figure. A wooden animal. He opened the window in a daze, reaching to drag it toward him.

The figure was small, no taller than his thumb, and made of a pale, thin grained wood. He lifted it halfway to his nose, catching a waft of wood smoke from the creature, as though it came from the dark lines scored on the small cat’s sides. A small, wooden tiger that had been decorated by fire. Eerily similar to his dream.

It felt warm, thought it had been in the shade, and though the carving itself was quite crude, it gave off almost the feeling of life, sinuous and gleaming.

He was chilled and confused. How had it gotten there? Did it have something to do with his dream? He left the house without his breakfast, the tiger abandoned on the counter to haunt him every moment he was at work.

***

By noon he was certain someone had broken into his apartment and put it on his windowsill. Some sort of calling card? Nothing had been out of order. His computer had been there, his television. Perhaps he had ought to see about getting his locks changed. He’d decided to talk to the building manager about it when a thought that had been plaguing him popped up.

What if it was connected to his dream? It was so absurd that he had nearly laughed at himself, which would have had half the office thinking he’d lost his mind. Had the dream caused him to get too little sleep, and he was somehow going crazy?

But it was such a coincidence. That he dreamed of a tiger, a fire, and woke to find a tiger in the only open window in his apartment. A wooden tiger anyway. Had he seen the figure before he slept, and just not registered it? That seemed odd. He stared out that window every evening, taking in the lights of distant buildings and cars as he tidied after his dinner. It was small, but not so small he would have missed it. It was like it was some kind of sign, though he was completely unsure of what that sign might be.

Watch out for tigers? In the middle of a city?

He was pretty sure there were none roaming the streets of Seoul.

The tiger was just where he had left it. He spent several minutes checking any valuables and all were safe. He cooked, constantly aware of the tiger on the counter, eating with his eyes determinedly on his plate so as not to stare at it. It was a puzzle, one he wanted desperately to figure out.

In his pajamas, he moved to turn out the light of his kitchen, determined to leave the tiger there. He was compelled, it seemed, to reach for it. Holding its warmth in one hand. It was strangely comforting.

On his bed, he stared at it. The dark eyes, the dark stripes and long legs. The fluid, curling tail. It wasn’t unlike the tigers at the zoo that had fascinated him as a child. Dawdling until his mother had to drag him away, his sister sighing in impatience. He turned out the light, intending to turn, put the wooden creature on the bed stand. Perhaps he could take it into the office, get someone else’s opinion on it.

As he thought on it, his eyes began to droop, the scent of smoke stronger it seemed. The scent of rain washed leaves, and rich earth. The sound of the wind carried a sigh to him, a prayer, and his chest tightened in longing. There was an end to that sadness, he was sure of it. Ah, finally, you’re here... his dream self had whispered, reaching for certain death...? Or for life...

His fingers loosened sightly on the tiger, held against his heart, and he fell into darkness.

***

Kyuhyun woke in dimness, light fluttering around him. Seconds of disbelief followed before the thought struck home. Fire. His apartment was on fire!

But as his head hit something hollow with a thud, he realized... He wasn’t in his apartment. Definitely not in his bed. The ground was hard beneath him and the light came from beyond his line of sight. He had hit his head on wood, a textured, fluid curve of it. Not a board. But a tree. The biggest tree near his apartment was about two inches around. Much, much smaller than this.

It was another dream, he decided. He had woke inside some sort of hollow tree, in a dream.

His eye caught movement, a flashing of light off of reflective, feline eyes. A cat, he thought. And then he didn’t think at all as the wide, blunt head emerged into the light. The cat’s ears flickered as air rushed from him. Stripes on fur that paled in the fire light, but stripes nonetheless.

Tiger.

It walked toward him, passing the tree’s narrow opening and bottling him in his corner. He barely felt the small wooden figure drop from his numb hand. If it had been a shark, he would think to kick its nose. But he didn’t think kicking a fully grown tiger would make it any less inclined to eat him.

He was going to wake up any minute. As long as the terror making his heart speed did not kill him first. In the dream before he had been so calm, but now... He could almost feel the adrenaline poisoning him. He flinched, a high pitched squeak leaving him as the animal’s muzzle brushed his clothed leg, his stomach. He could bash its head against the wall, he thought, and run. Grab a burning brand from the fire, and...

He would be lucky to get two feet before his spine was severed. Wake up, wake up, wake up, he shouted to himself.

Kyuhyun squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see death coming with gleaming canines. He felt the tiger’s breath puff against his face and...

Nothing. Nothing for several breaths and even more heartbeats. He opened his eyes, barely peeking between his lashes, and his eyes widened as he saw the tiger sitting on its haunches just beyond his feet. Just sitting. Staring. A bored tiger, looking for the thrill of a hunt? A sadistic tiger feeding on his suspended fear? Each possibility was more absurd than the last.

The most peculiar thing happened, as the tiger lifted a foreleg. Its skin at the shoulder began to ripple, eyes dimming, fur and stripes along its side beginning to bunch and fold... Until all that was left was gleaming skin, all but glowing in the dim light, golden and painted in dark stripes.

Where the tiger had been, a man was crouched, mostly naked but for a cloth at his waist and a small pouch around his neck.

He was not only dreaming, he was insane. There had been a real tiger there moments ago, and now there was only a tiger pelt puddled on the ground. And a man, with long limbs and dark, dark eyes rested there, just staring at him.

The man moved back, gathering the pelt into his arms, and indicating that Kyuhyun should follow him. Kyuhyun stood, stiffly, shakily, mindful of the low arch of the tree, and was blinded for a moment by the large bonfire giving heat into the night air. It was a forest, seemingly lush and green and stretching as far as his eyes could see.

The man with the intricate body painting made a low sound. Calling for something? Kyuhyun wondered. Other people? A clan of shape-changing cannibals? He gasped as men began to appear, seemingly from the trees around them.

But there wasn’t something quite right about them. Their faces... He couldn’t see them. Where the tiger man’s face was clear, the lines of his nose, his mouth, were sharp, these men had blurs, their eyes twin white stars in the midst of nothing. It was horrific, and terrifying, possibly more so even than the tiger had been. A low din began, as though they were speaking, though he could distinguish no words and saw no mouths move.

The man who had found him stood still through it all, watching as Kyuhyun took in the men surrounding them. Maybe he had been a tiger, but he was the closest thing to normal that Kyuhyun had seen. Kyuhyun took an unsteady step toward the man, toward the fire.

The man’s brow’s lowered, his face full of doubt. A striped hand rose, slender fingers extending toward Kyuhyun as hesitant as Kyuhyun felt. Kyuhyun was being offered something. He was sure of it.

Kyuhyun lifted his hand, the din around them quieting. There was something akin to hope on the man’s face, and Kyuhyun forgot to breathe, reaching further, until... Just the barest tips of their fingers brushed and it seemed even the fire leaped into motion and noise, howls unlike any he had ever heard echoing off of the trees. And it was nothing to the blitz of heat that had raced up his arm as his fingers were grasped by the man who stood in front of him, painted like a tiger.

The man’s dark eyes were lit with triumph. It seemed...a choice had been made.

***

Kyuhyun’s skin crawled as hands closed around his arms. The faceless men had approached, ringing him.

And they were pulling at him.

“Wait, no!” he protested, struggling against their grip. He looked to the man still holding his hand for assurance. He thought he would help him, not let these creepy men drag him into the forest. And for what? Carve him for their dinner? Maybe there were other animals out there that would like a tasty snack.

The man squeezed Kyuhyun’s hand and let it go, and with that, there was nothing holding him. They moved him along as though he were a bunch of grass that they were carrying and not a full grown man. He had never considered the word manhandled quite so literally as did right then. He had tried to look back at the fire, at the man still standing there, but they were out of sight and into only a half-moon lit darkness.

His ears perked at the sound of running water. Would they drown him, then? He was smiling a bit grimly as they halted on the banks of a river twice as wide as he was tall. They’d get a fight. It might be two seconds, but he would try.

He squawked in indignation as his pajama bottoms were yanked down his legs, his boxers following, and his t-shirt spirited over his head. In almost less time than it took him to snap his fingers, he was naked. A different sort of danger than he had been expecting.

They guided him firmly into the water, cool but not cold, until they had reached the middle of the river, just above his hips at the deepest point. If he threw himself downriver, perhaps he could swim to safety...

There was no time to draw in air as he was shoved down into the water.

He came up, gasping, sputtering, prepared to fight, but was lifted by both arms until he stood firmly on his feet.

And then a completely different sort of offense. Hands full of river sand began to scrub at his skin. His arms, and legs, and places no hands but his own belonged, at least not without invitation. By the time his hands had reached to guard or slap away, they had moved on, over his chest, up his back, his grimacing face. Even in his hair.

They dunked him again, for longer this time, hands making sure every grain of sand had left his body. His skin all but glowed in the light. He bet he looked pink and fresh. Invasive exfoliation. Coming to a spa near...?

He was shivering as he was nudged onto the bank. They all but squeegeed his body dry, and he did not fight. Not even as soft fibrous bundles were run through his hair, absorbing water, until he was just as he had been before the dunking. Only more naked.

One man stepped forward with a length of cloth, not unlike what they were wearing around their own hips. The cloth covered and cradled discreetly, and was scarcely warmer than the air, but it did cover. If he had to be grateful for that.

Did cannibals dress their dinner, he wondered. Maybe there was to be some sort of orgy instead. Maybe there were hiding women somewhere.

He hadn’t dreamed about an orgy before.

One man lifted a leaf, smearing a thin black paste into a rectangular shape over the left side of Kyuhyun’s chest. Charcoal, he thought, smelling it.

They did not touch him now, ushering him with one ahead and two behind him on some kind of fantastical parade. Three men with faces he could not see, and Kyuhyun, who was mostly naked in the middle of a forest.

His heart leapt in relief as he spotted the fire, saw the man with the tiger stripes still there. Something, anything familiar. Kyuhyun did not call out, but kept his eyes fixed on the man. If he needed help, perhaps there he would find some sort of compassion.

They brought him close, until he was standing in front of the tiger-man, and... Seemed to retreat. He stared as they backed away, unperturbed by their absence but still curious. Why? They had washed him, clothed him in this skimpy little cloth, only to return him to the place he had come from?

Behind the fire was the tree he had come out of, but he could not attest to the safety he would find there. After all, it was where he had found the tiger. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

The man made a noise in his throat, brushing the soft charcoal dust from Kyuhyun’s skin until none remained. The men around them groaned their disapproval but he seemed unmoved and waved them away. They retreated, fading into the darkness, until it was just the two of them.

“No orgy, huh?” Kyuhyun joked weakly.

The man acted as though he had not heard, crouching to retrieve something on the ground.

There were two crude cups beside them, one with liquid almost clear, the other a darker, almost pink color. The cup with the clear liquid was picked up, and the man’s thumb dipped in it, making a thick, moist line across Kyuhyun’s forehead. Kyuhyun’s nostrils flared, picking up the scent of sweet fruit, before the man’s thumb traced gently over Kyuhyun’s mouth. Yes, it was fruit juice. He swallowed hard, watching the man’s hand swirl in the cup, and a wet hand, fingers spread, pressed fully over his heart where the charcoal had just been removed.

He sucked in his stomach as quick, damp lines were drawn across it. And for the first time, the man spoke.

“Zhou Mi,” the man said, underlining what he had written across Kyuhyun’s stomach. And then repeated, “Zhou Mi,” before lifting a hand to his own chest.

His name, Kyuhyun realized. Zhou Mi, the man who could become a tiger.

Zhou Mi reached for Kyuhyun’s hand, pressing the cup into it, and miming what he had just done. He wanted Kyuhyun...to copy his actions? It was a ritual he had never heard of, one he did not understand. And yet still, he stepped closer.

He moved slowly, tracing a line across Zhou Mi’s forehead. And he nearly shivered as his thumb dragged across the smoothness of Zhou Mi’s lips. He could not help but lick his own, as he moistened his hand, pressing it as Zhou Mi had done, over Zhou Mi’s heart.

He could feel the beating of his own heart in his ears, his breath shallow. He hoped he wouldn’t pass out before it was over.

With a moist finger he traced the figure for “kyu” across half of Zhou Mi’s stomach, beside the ends of the painted tiger stripes. The “hyun” followed after another dip into the bowl. He blew out his breath. He was finished. And Zhou Mi’s eyes were inquisitive, waiting.

“Kyuhyun,” he said, underlining his name as Zhou Mi had done, and bringing a hand to his own chest. “Kyuhyun.”

Zhou Mi considered him a moment, before his lips tilted. “Kui Xian.”

“Er, I don’t...” he began, before faltering. If a man in body paint wanted to call him by his Chinese name, why would he argue?

Zhou Mi bent, picking up the second cup with the pink liquid in it. He exchanged it for the cup in Kyuhyun’s hands, and mimed that Kyuhyun should drink.

Kyuhyun sniffed at it, still cautious, but smelled nothing but ripe, unidentifiable fruit. There was no bitter scent of alcohol, or of what he imagined some nefarious poison might smell like. The liquid was sweet and thick, almost pulpy, but velvety on his tongue. He paused once, waiting to see if he was supposed to only drink half, but Zhou Mi urged him on until the bowl was empty. His stomach was warm with contentment.

What next, he wondered. A secret handshake? He could be a jungle man forever. Maybe they’d even let him paint his body like an animal as well...

His breath halted as Zhou Mi gripped his hip with one hand, the other nimbly undoing the knot holding the covering cloth at Kyuhyun’s waist.

He gripped Zhou Mi’s wrist as tightly as he had ever gripped anything in his life, and they stared at each other.

That he hadn’t been prepared for.

***