(for vanilox) Opposites part ii

[kais]

part i

“Are you okay?” the sound of Chanyeol's voice wakes Jongin up, pulling him out from his mind's quicksand of thoughts.

Jongin's eyes are trained on the wooden surface before him, vision gradually focusing and unfocusing from lack of sleep. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before looking up at Chanyeol.

“You've been spacing out a lot,” Chanyeol adds, temples scrunching up in concern.

“I'm okay. Just having trouble sleeping lately,” Jongin answers rather too quickly, but he says it with enough conviction for Chanyeol to end up buying it anyway, eventhough only half of it was true.

It's the fourth day since the portal last opened, and Jongin's been spending night after night coming up with possible reasons behind Kyungsoo's disappearance.

He thinks that maybe Kyungsoo has just been busy with his piano lessons, maybe Kyungsoo accidentally broke his mirror, or maybe Kyungsoo has chosen to avoid him after what happened during their last meeting. Whatever the reason is, Jongin finds out when the portal opens up again on the sixth day.

“What happened?” Jongin asks, dropping all of their routine greetings, as soon as Kyungsoo's face appears before him.

Kyungsoo's eyes are wet, and Jongin feels as if he's been given the answer as soon as his attention land on the purplish bruise on Kyungoo's face.

“What happened?” Jongin doesn't think twice as he reaches a hand towards the other's face. His fingers graze over the bruise, lifting slightly when Kyungsoo winces the touch. “Who did this to you?”

“Nobody-I got hit by a ball on the face real hard. Children were playing soccer as I passed by,” Kyungsoo explains, angling his head as if the action would alleviate the sting.

“You're lying,” Jongin says, to which Kyungsoo replies with a weak smile.

“I am, but you don't really need to know why.”

“Kyungsoo-”

“I missed you, Jongin.” Kyungsoo inches his face towards Jongin's, breath brushing against the other's lips. “Can you do something for me?”

Jongin's eyes wander back towards the sudden burst of violet on Kyungsoo's right cheekbone. The bruise blends perfectly with Kyungsoo's porcelain skin, and if it weren't for the way Kyungsoo winced earlier when Jongin touched it, Jongin would think that it's just a discoloration caused by the cold weather at Dextro.

Jongin closes his eyes, reopening it only to focus on Kyungsoo's black ones.

“Anything.”

“Are you sure?” Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin finds himself holding his breath. “Yes.”

A series of instructions come out of Kyungsoo's mouth, each telling Jongin to move the mirror towards a certain direction. Soon, Jongin realizes that Kyungsoo is making him move their mirrors together in a way that would allow them to not lose the portal.

Kyungsoo's voice is almost inaudible amidst the loud beating inside Jongin's chest, and the next thing Jongin knows is that he's lying on his bed, holding the mirror up in front of his face, just enough so that Kyungsoo was looking down at him.

Without warning, Kyungsoo pushes their lips together, and Jongin has to suppress a breath when he feels Kyungsoo's tongue swipe over his lips. The kiss feels hasty, sloppy, as if Kyungsoo's actually afraid of the usual knock on his door this time.

Kyungsoo orders Jongin to move the mirror down as he leaves a trail of butterfly kisses against Jongin's skin-starting from his jaw, to his neck, and to the dip between his shoulder blades. A cold hand replaces Kyungsoo's lips as the mirror goes down to Jongin's clothed chest, and it stops just below Jongin's stomach, with Kyungsoo making it a point to sneak a hand under the tanned boy's shirt.

Jongin bites hard on his bottom lip in fear of disturbing people from the neighboring people when he feels Kyungsoo's cold touch against his heated skin, and he arches his back when cold fingers start to play his nipples. His free hand struggles to grip at something. He badly wants to tug at Kyungsoo's hair, but their mirrors only make way for either Kyungsoo's hand or head.

Soon, Kyungsoo's hand abandons Jongin's skin, going down to palm the growing tent in Jongin's gray sweatpants. And Jongin curses under his breath when Kyungsoo slides a hand into his pants and past the waistband of his underwear.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin calls out in an attempt to slow things down, to stop Kyungsoo, but his voice comes out as a strangled moan. He wants to make sure if Kyungsoo is sure of what he's doing. He doesn't want the other to regret any of this later.

“Kyungsoo-” Jongin tries again, breath catching against his throat, but he's cut off when Kyungsoo yanks the elastic of his underwear and his sweatpants down with one swift motion.

“I know what I'm doing, so stop talking.” Jongin hears Kyungsoo says, and he doesn't see his face but it feels as if Kyungsoo said the words against his ear.

And right then and there, Kyungsoo sucks Jongin off, with the latter arching his back and hitting his head against the headboard. The taste of copper touches Jongin's tongue, and he draws out even more from his bottom lip when Kyungsoo starts to bob his head.

Jongin screams as he comes around Kyungsoo's cold lips, his knees bent, his grip on the mirror faltering, and his free hand fisting at the sheets as sweat trickles down his forehead.

It's only after they've cleaned up that Jongin realizes he hasn't heard the usual knock on Kyungsoo's door. He's sure that it's already well past his accustomed time with Kyungsoo.

“What really happened?”

They're lying head to head and Jongin doesn't see Kyungsoo's face, but he doesn't miss the sudden hitch in Kyungsoo's breathing.

“Tell me, Kyungsoo,” Jongin prods, and he repeats it when Kyungsoo still doesn't answer.

Kyungsoo sighs. “I followed your advice, so I told my piano teacher that I'd rather study singing. I followed your advice, and it earned me a blow to the face.”

“Are you blaming me now?” Jongin asks, and Kyungsoo giggles. “But at least you told them what you really want, right?” he says.

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

A pause. Jongin listens to Kyungsoo's breathing.

And Kyungsoo answers, “Only when I'm with you.”

---

Jongin flips through the book Chanyeol had given him, desperately trying to find any information about other ways that would allow him to cross the invisible border between his world and Kyungsoo's.

He doesn't find anything, though, except for the fact that the things written on the book were the same as the ones on his previous history book. It seems like their world only knew very little about Dextro.

“You seem very interested in Dextro these days,” Chanyeol mentions, coming closer to sit beside Jongin on the bed. His leg hits the box beside the dresser, and Jongin almost yelps when Chanyeol knocks it over. The box falls with a gentle thud, and Jongin inhales deeply through his mouth when he doesn't hear the sound of breaking glass.

And it's when it hits him.

Jongin faces the other, hand latching itself to the collar of Chanyeol's shirt. “Do you know how to make a mirror?”

Chanyeol inches his head backwards, only stopping when Jongin's grip doesn't let him go any farther. It's the first time he's seen this reaction from Jongin. “Yeah, it's pretty easy actually-“

“Then can you help me make one?”

“What? A mirror?” Chanyeol asks, eyebrows furrowing when Jongin nods. “No.”

“Come on.”

Chanyeol coaxes Jongin's hand off his shirt. “What do you need a mirror for anyway?”

There's a knock on there door, followed by the clattering of metal trays against the floor.

“I want to go there. I want to go to Dextro,” Jongin mutters, earning him a confused look from Chanyeol. Sighing, he stands up to take the box off the ground. He places it in front of Chanyeol, putting it in between the latter's thighs.

“I need to meet someone there,” Jongin adds.

It takes a while, give a few minutes, before Chanyeol drops his gaze onto the box before him. It doesn't weigh much and Chanyeol shakes it slightly like an excited child, acting as if the sound would give him any hint of what's inside.

Chanyeol opens the box, and Jongin watches as Chanyeol takes the mirror out with caution.

“How... how did you get this?”

“My grandfather left it for me as a coming of age gift. I don't know how he got it, though.”

“Jongin,” Chanyeol mutters, eyes not leaving the mirror's surface. “This is amazing.”

“So now will you help me? I already have that much. We can combine it-”

“No, Jongin. No. We don't have access to any resources, and the materials we need are only available at Dextro. But even if we did,” Chanyeol trails, pausing just to glance at Jongin, “I still wouldn't help you.”

Jongin's fixes his eyes onto the reflection of Chanyeol's at the mirror. “Why not?”

“It's against the rules for us-people from Sinistro-to step into Dextro. This applies for those who live in Dextro as well.”

“And where did you hear that?”

“From my job briefing.”

Jongin notes the way Chanyeol says all of this without hesitation, without ever blinking, face locked in a solemn expression. He remembers that he doesn't have any idea about what Chanyeol does at central tower. He meets Chanyeol's eyes, squints, and says, “Just what kind of job do you have, Chanyeol?”

And Chanyeol blinks, eyes widening and lips caught agape. “I...” he starts, putting the mirror back inside its box. “There's a portal at central tower. They found out I had relatives who worked at the Ministry of Knowledge before... so they assigned me to work near it and aid the transport of products from Sinistro to Dextro.”

Jongin's face lights up entirely with another expression. “That means you can help me. Chanyeol, you need to.”

Chanyeol bites down on his bottom lip. He whispers, voice dropping low just in case they're being watched, “It's dangerous. They-The first thing they told us was to never go across Dextro. It's become an unspoken rule to many ever since the day Sinistro was rid of mirrors, and I don't know what they'll do-what the control police will do if they catch you, Jongin.”

“I don't care,” Jongin vehemently says.

“Jongin, please think this through.”

Chanyeol and Jongin end up staring at each other, both refusing to let their gazes go. Even after a minute, Jongin doesn't budge, and Chanyeol knows this, understands what this stubbornness means. And it's after another long minute that Chanyeol hangs his head, and gives in.

“Fine, we'll... see what we can do.”

The following days are spent with Chanyeol throwing book after book at Jongin; All of them concerning the world Jongin has now grown fascinated with. Jongin learns how people from Dextro wake, talk, walk, and live-manners, culture, arts, and political views. Jongin tries to learn them all.

Each day, Chanyeol teaches Jongin things he says are imperative if Jongin wants to survive and blend in with Dextro's society. He also doesn't fail to ask Jongin whether he's sure about going to the other side, and each day, Jongin doesn't hesitate to say that yes, he is.

“Are you sure about this?” Chanyeol croaks as he stacks books on top of Jongin's head for their lesson on 'proper posture'.

And Jongin just hums.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Chanyeol casts his stare down onto Jongin's eyelids, hands on each side of his waist and face sporting a confused look even when he knows Jongin wouldn't see it.

“Why? I mean, what's so special about this Kyungsoo guy?” Chanyeol looks for any change of expression on Jongin's face. “What's with him that makes you want to do all of this? Are you sure you'd be willing to die for him?”

Jongin doesn't answer. He doesn't answer because he doesn't exactly know why himself, and the only plausible reason he could think of was because he's somehow grown a liking to Kyungsoo. But of course he didn't want to tell Chanyeol, so he chose to stay quiet.

And It was the only day where Jongin failed to answer all of Chanyeol's doubts.

Jongin doesn't tell Kyungsoo about his plans, and the latter doesn't seem to notice that something's up. They continue their daily routines although, sometimes, Kyungsoo doesn't show up, only doing so the next day to explain with a new bruise on his face. And whenever Jongin asks where Kyungsoo where he gets the bruises, Kyungsoo always comes up with an accident, and it repeats until Jongin finally learns how not to mind it. He knows Kyungsoo's busy, and it only makes him more determined to meet the other in person.

And on one night when Jongin finishes with cleaning up after an impromptu tea session, Chanyeol tells him with a pat on the back that he's ready, that he can now step into Dextro without ever being suspected as someone from Sinistro or someone who doesn't belong.

Now all they need is a plan.

Jongin hums a tune as he forces a knife down onto a mirror frame's wooden surface, dragging it slowly to follow an inked pattern of broken lines. He's been working straight for hours, hands able to do work much longer before feeling any sign of fatigue due to practice. Jongin endures all of this just to get the day over with.

He tries to steal a glance at the gigantic digital clock situated at the far front of the working grounds. From where he's standing, Jongin could barely make out the blinking numbers on the clock's display, so he squints his eyes instinctively, and reads: '15:57' in angry red characters.

He has an hour and three minutes more of work.

During most days Jongin would hum a tune to help himself get through the working hours, but it's gotten tiring these past few days-Everything gets tiring when it's done repeatedly. So, today, he chooses to keep quiet. There's a faint sound of murmuring blending in with the silence, muffled sounds coming from both the machines and the people around him, and Jongin listens to it. He finds it calming, almost therapeutically so.

The alarm goes off. It's an hour too early.

“Attention all workers, please gather at the main hall immediately,” the debilitated speakers say, crackling and echoing from each corner of the room.

Jongin stands still, watching as the people around him bustle into a crowd, trailing a beeline towards the main hall with practiced steps. He bucks his head forwards when a familiar arm latches around his neck.

“You have to move, you know,” Sehun says. “They say there's big news.”

Jongin doesn't try to take Sehun's arm away from his nape. “What news?”

And Sehun willingly loosens his grip, dropping his arm and letting his hand rest on Jongin's shoulder instead. “I don't know, but we'll find out.”

“Attention all workers, please gather at the main hall immediately,” the speaker repeats.

A white cloth is hung at the center of the main hall. Sehun drags Jongin into the crowd, and they squeeze through the sea of people until Sehun stops and they end up at the middle of the room. There's an aged man standing on top of the low platform in front of the white cloth. He's wearing a well-pressed white dress shirt, which contrasts and attracts more attention to the wrinkles on his face. Jongin hasn't seen the man before, but he could tell that he was a man of importance when the lights turned dim and the room turned quiet with just a snap of his fingers.

“Why are the police from the Ministry of Control here?” Jongin whispers, pointing his gaze to a group of armed men lined up against the main hall's corners, but Sehun doesn't answer.

A projector starts playing at the far right of the platform. Its light is directed to the white cloth, casting monochrome images from the local news.

“A number of daylight power lines were cut by several workers earlier at thirteen o'clock,” the speakers announced, causing a burst of whispering to arise from the crowd. “It caused a delay in the daily 'lighting' operation around Central city. Meanwhile, places outside the city remained unaffected. So far, the Ministry of Control hasn't found a reason behind the incident but, nonetheless, the accused are reported to have been given the appropriate punishment for their actions.”

The projector stops, the lights turn on, and the whispering dies down as the man from earlier walks back to the center of the platform.

“Due to the actions of your fellow workers, working hours will now end at sixteen o' clock. This will reduce everyone's pay by approximately one day,” the man declares.

Another wave of whisperings arise from the crowd, but they remain hushed. Nobody ever shouts out their complaints. Of course nobody does, not when the control police were around.

The control police belonged to the Ministry of Control, a seemingly abandoned building near one of the walls that separated central city from the outskirts and from the inhabited areas where people who meddled with the laws were banished. They were armed and dressed in black, making it easier for them to go around the city at night. They rarely visit working grounds, which leads Jongin to think that there must be another reason as to why they were at central tower.

“This will continue on until the Ministry of Supply recovers the powerlines they've lost and are able to
produce sufficient energy for the city's day-to-day operations,” the man from earlier continues.. He ends his announcements with nothing but a dismissal and a curt 'thank you'.

“Well, that's a bummer,” Sehun sighs, dropping his gaze as he and Jongin pass by the control police, and he only speaks again after he's sure they're well out of earshot. “Aren't you going to wait for Chanyeol?”

Jongin immediately looks around the room, hoping to spot Chanyeol in the flurry of people who are heading towards the exit.

“I don't know. Didn't the man say that working hours end at sixteen?”

“You should go and find him. Maybe he's still at his working place,” Sehun suggests. But it's as if the control police heard him when gloved hands rest on the frame of his and Jongin's backs, pushing them just slightly towards the direction of the exit.

“All laborers are required to go back to their home units. Please make your way towards the exit immediately,” one of them says, voice muffled and seemingly mechanic under his mask.

Jongin and Sehun obliges, seeing as the path towards the stairs are blocked.

It's quiet when Jongin steps out of the bus, trailing slowly behind a line of people. Sehun walks closely beside him, and Jongin only notices when he hears a breathy exhale from the younger.

An eerie stillness wraps the entire area around the home units. A number of people are surrounding the electrical post beside the first building, and it's only then that Jongin realizes it's the crime scene mentioned earlier by the local news. Jongin shuffles towards the crowd, with Sehun following him.

The sight wasn't all that surprising; The local news did mention everything including the number of powerlines and the time they were cut. A woman from outside the crowd shrieks, before pushing and forcing herself through the barricade of people. Her knees automatically plant themselves onto the ground, hands shaking as she smears blood onto her skirt, letting the head of a lifeless man rest on her lap as she cries and wails.

Jongin tears Sehun and himself away from the scene, eyes shutting as the woman's helpless cries grew louder and more desperate, asking for help even though there was nothing that could be done.

The local news did mention everything, except the number of casualties: three dead, and five injured.

“I'll... see you later,” Jongin says as he lets go of Sehun's arm.

Sehun motions to stop the other but Jongin has already ran towards his home unit's entrance. Jongin goes to his shared room with Chanyeol, hoping to find the latter there. But as usual, Jongin's the first one home.

And it's only when the door bursts open later at night and a beaten-up figure slumps to the ground does Jongin find out that Chanyeol was one of the five who got injured.

Jongin panics. He frantically hauls Chanyeol from the ground, kicking the door close as he drags the other inside their room.

“What happened to you?”

“Somehow got involved. I was held up for questioning,” Chanyeol scoffs, face contorting in pain as Jongin carefully drops him onto the bed. “But I have good news.”

Jongin would opt to tell Chanyeol to shut up and let him tend to the fresh scars and bruises on his skin first, but the wide grin on the latter's face keeps him from doing so. “What is it?” he asks.

“We got a plan.”

The plan, Jongin learns, isn't as complicated as he thought it would be.

“There will be a city-wide blackout tomorrow. The other underpaid workers from earlier told me they'll cut multiple powerlines from different locations at the exact same time. It will last for about five minutes,” Chanyeol states, mindlessly scratching the swelling scars on his arm. “All you need to do is go up to the uppermost floor at central tower and find the transportation room. You need to be there by twelve.”

Jongin wets a cotton ball with alcohol before dabbing it gingerly over one of Chanyeol's scars. “Won't there be people guarding the portal?”

“No, since it'd be lunch time by then, but there will be security cameras around the area so you'll have to wait for the lights to turn off before you open the last door, find the portal, and jump into it as fast as you can. I'll give you my worker card so you can get inside the transportation room.”

“Won't you need that again?”

“I could always lie about losing it and ask for another one.”

Jongin unintentionally presses the cotton hard against Chanyeol's skin, earning him a pained hiss from the older.

“I won't be there,” Chanyeol squeaks, sighing as the sting lightens.

Jongin doesn't say 'thank you' and 'sorry you got beat for me'. Instead, he puts bandages over Chanyeol's cuts.

“So please be careful, Jongin. Even after you cross the portal, you still have to be careful.”

“What do you mean?” Jongin sits beside Chanyeol, placing the first aid kit below the bunk bed.

“The control police... they have this radar that could track anyone from the two worlds. To them, you'd appear as a blinking red in an otherwise black backdrop of Dextro's city.”

“Once I get there, how long would I have until they find me?”

“From what I heard, the kind of radar they use won't be able to pinpoint your exact location. I'd say a few hours? Maybe a day? I'm not really sure, Jongin.”

“A few hours?” Jongin asks, voice going a pitch higher. “Is there any way I could stop them from tracking me?”

“Yes, but not completely. We could either cut your arm and take out the little chip near your working numbers, or you could go to the city's outskirts once you step foot into Dextro. They can't track you there.”

“The second one sounds nice.”

“No it doesn't.”

“So what's your plan?” Chanyeol suddenly asks after a slight pause. He could tell by Jongin's face that he caught the other male off guard. “Don't tell me you don't have one. Jongin you can't just go there without one.”

“I have a plan, okay. Trust me,” Jongin lies.

“What is it?”

“Go to Dextro. Find Kyungsoo and bring him here.”

“That doesn't sound like a good plan.” Chanyeol looks at Jongin with disbelief knitted in between his eyebrows. “Are you really sure about doing this?”

And Jongin only nods.

When the lunch bell rings, Jongin drops his carving knife, wipes saw dust off his hands, and heads out towards the main hall. He passes by the cafeteria, promptly ignoring Sehun's calls as he rounds several corners.

He reaches the elevator shortly, curses under his breath as he watches its level indicator stop on every other floor. It takes more than a little while before the elevator doors open and as soon as the swarm of chattering people get off, Jongin steps inside.

The lift only goes up until the thirtieth floor and Jongin has to climb ten sets of stairs to get to the uppermost floor. He bumps into a couple of people along the way, all of them heading towards the cafeteria, and Jongin smiles wryly at the thought of how nobody knew about what he was planning. How, to everyone else, he was just going up the stairs.

Five floors until he reaches Chanyeol, Jongin notes how his every step echoes to the walls as the heel of his shoes click against marble. But the sound doesn't overshadow the loud beating inside his chest, not when all Jongin could think of was that this was it. This is finally the day he'd been waiting for. The day where he gets to step into Dextro, apply all the things he learned and practiced, and meet Kyungsoo in person.

Jongin looks up when a conversation emerges from the upper floor, only to drop his head low when a small group of control police marches towards him. The prospect of getting caught makes him bite the insides of his cheeks, even if there was no way that any of the armed men knew what he was about to do.

It's a few minutes past twelve when Jongin reaches the last floor, sweat sticking to his skin. It meant that he's running late and that the lights could go out any second from now. He runs through hallways, turns to corners, and slides past doors-all according to Chanyeol's instructions. He stops in front of the last door: a black metal door, just like how Chanyeol had described. He makes sure to stand a few meters away from it as he waits.

And just like planned, all the electricity inside the building is cut off. A culmination of loud gasps from a variation of voices resonate from the whole building. At that, Jongin quickly swipes Chanyeol's worker card on the door's scanner, opens the door, and shoves himself inside the room. With all the lights off, the only thing he could see was darkness. He uses his hands to guide him through what seemed to him was a cramped hallway, turns to his right, and-he finds the portal.

Through the portal, Jongin could see a full view of a place that seemed to mirror the room he's in. It looks like a misplaced portrait suspended in midair. Jongin inches slowly towards the portal, putting out his arms first before stepping forward. He doesn't look back.

Jongin shivers as he goes into the portal. There's a brief moment where Jongin feels like falling, plunging into the an abyss of icy water with no buoyancy, helplessly reaching out for something to hold onto, before the temperature shifts and his feet touches marble.

He's finally at Dextro.

Jongin doesn't waste time. He starts to run, seemingly throwing out his limbs in a reckless manner. It's past midnight at Dextro, which explained why the central tower was dark and void of people. But even so, Jongin doesn't forget to cover his face. He uses a hand and makes sure to keep his head low to hide his face from possibly hidden security cameras. His every step thuds loudly against the concrete floor, echoing from the walls to the ceiling. But he doesn't care, mind set on getting to the outskirts of the city as fast as possible.

He makes it out of the tower in one piece, pausing and panting as he tries to regain his breathing. When he looks up, it's all bright city lights and tall glass buildings. The streets are wet, indicating that it must've rained earlier, and the traffic lights bleed neon onto the pavement. Jongin stares in awe at the tall buildings; Their glass exteriors reflected the same sky and moon, making them look as they were part of the night sky.

It's all that Jongin takes in before he starts running again, suddenly remembering that he only has less than an hour before the control police takes notice of a blinking string of numbers on their radar.

He reaches the outskirts of town just in time.

Dextro's outskirts is almost the exact opposite of its main city, Jongin finds, as the pavement beneath his feet slowly disappears and turns into dirt.

“Watch where you're going, boy!” Jongin turns his head to a loud blaring behind him after he crosses a pathway, only to find an angry man shouting at him; He almost got run over by a vehicle.

All the buildings before him are made out of weathered wood instead of sleek glass, seemingly swaying with the breeze as they blend in perfectly in the dark of the night. The houses looked abandoned and the only thing that enabled Jongin to navigate through the area was the moonlight.

Jongin walks towards the houses. He desperately needed to find a place to spend the night as Dextro was getting colder by the minute. He fails to notice the shadow of a man behind him.

Strong hands grab the material of his collar, and there's a faint mix of grunts and the shuffling of feet before Jongin finds himself pushed up against a wooden wall.

“You! Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Jongin holds his breath as his eyes meet his attacker's gaze. He couldn't see the man's features clearly as they were in a dark alley, but he could tell that the man has done this a lot of times before.

“I'm from-I'm from the city,” Jongin answers.

The man's tight grip on his collar doesn't falter. “Stop lying to me. People from the city don't dress like you! What do you want-”

“Yifan.” Just then a voice interrupts, its beholder slowly emerging from the dark. “Put him down.”

And Jongin doesn't know why, but his breathing becomes more ragged as the moonlight casts down onto the other man's face, revealing a wrinkled and smiling face he hasn't seen for years.

“Jongin? Jongin is that you?”

“You know this guy, gramps?”

“He's my grandson.”

“So you're gramps grandson, huh?” the man from earlier-Yifan-says as he takes a sip from his mug of tea. The expression on his face from earlier has long been replaced by amiableness, as if he never held Jongin in a choke hold. The man looked like he was in his late twenties, face only having the slightest mar of aging under his eyes.

They're inside a house with only two rooms split into a kitchen and a living room.

“I'm Yifan. I met your grandfather the day I got banished from the city for stealing too much,” the man adds.

And Jongin just nods, eyes glued to his feet. Then, the floorboards creak, followed by a low whispering, and Jongin feels Yifan stand up and walk away.

“Jongin,” a scruffy voice starts, and Jongin dips his head lower at the familiarity of it. “Jongin, look at me.”

Jongin still doesn't look up.

“Jongin-”

“How could you leave us?” Jongin voices out. His grip around the mug between his thighs trembles, tightens. “How-How could you leave me? Before Yixing, you were the only family I had.”

One of them heaves a sigh.

“I thought you were dead. You were dead to us,” Jongin continues through gritted teeth.

“Jongin, let me explain.”

This time, Jongin is the one who exhales a sigh. He sets the mug down onto the makeshift table before him, making sure to keep his head down as he tries to blink the budding sting away from his eyes.

“I've made a lot of bad decisions before, and for that I am terribly sorry. That's why I always told you to think first before jumping into conclusions. Me-I came here because I thought something between me and someone from Dextro would work out. I was wrong.” Jongdae smiles weakly to himself. “I knew it would be hard for me to come back, so I left that mirror for you. So you could find me.”

Jongin looks up, letting a tear trail down from his eye and to his cheek. He unclenches his fists, nails leaving tiny crescents on his palms.

Jongdae gives him a bitter smile before standing up. “I know it'll be hard for you to forgive me, but I really do want to say sorry.”

Jongin sleeps on the couch that night. He sleeps with the feeling of calmness, like a deep piercing thorn had just been picked out from his heart.

The next day comes, and Jongin's starts with the smell of coffee wafting and squeezing through the air. He sits up to the sight of his grandfather making breakfast.

“You're awake,” Jongdae smiles at him.

The front door squeaks open, and Yifan comes inside carrying a newspaper on top of a bundle of firewood.

“This is all I could gather, Pa,” Yifan says as he sets the bundle on the ground beside the stove.

“That's already enough, thank you. Breakfast is served.”

Jongin joins them a moment later, drawing out a chair beside Yifan. He plops down without hearing any objections, and starts to fill his plate.

“So you gather firewood here?” Jongin asks.

Jongdae and Yifan share looks before Jongdae answers, “Yes. The electricity here gets cut off at night to give way for the nightlights. You know, nightlights are the opposite of daylights at Sinistro.”

“I know.”

Jongdae presses his lips into a thin line before turning the old TV set at their living room on just as he puts the newspaper down onto the table.

“There's nothing big so far, except for the rumors of an ongoing rebellion at Sinistro. Jongin, is this true?” the old man asks.

And Jongin nods before he picks the newspaper up. He doesn't see a single article about any rebellion on the front page, instead, he lays eyes on a photographed picture of the person he wants to see.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin mutters, earning him a quick glance from Yifan.

“Kyungsoo? From the Do family?” Yifan chimes while chewing his food.

Jongdae turns to Jongin. “You know him?”

The TV begins to sound like a low buzzing from the living room as Jongdae looks at Jongin beseechingly.

“I do. I met him back at Sinistro through the mirror you gave me.”

Jongdae turns the TV off. “Is he the reason why you came here? Did he ask you to come here?”

“Yes, and No. I came here because I want to see him.” Jongin says, and he watches as the old man shuts his eyes tight and sighs.

“Jongin.” Jongdae runs a hand through his greying hair. “You can't make the same mistake as I did.”

Jongin feels something twisting inside his stomach. “I can't cause I won't, Pa,” he spits out emphasis on the last word. “This is different. Unlike you, I didn't leave anyone for this.”

“Did you even think this through?” Jongdae exclaims.

And Jongin matches his pitch. “Why? Did you when you left me and Yixing?”

“Damnit, Jongin, that was years ago!”

There's a momentary pause, silence only broken by the sound of Jongdae's troubled breathing and Yifan's words of excuse before leaving the room. Jongdae pours himself a glass of water, and Jongin doesn't miss the tremble in his grip around the glass.

“I'm sorry,” Jongin mutters, shaking his head. “I did think about it, and Kyungsoo... he was getting these bruises. I just... I think I have to get him away from all of that.”

“Did he ever tell you how he got them?” Jongdae asks after he calming himself.

“No, he didn't.” Jongin shakes his head even more. “But I have to at least try, Pa. You have to help me.”

Jongdae hesitates for a while, before finally giving in. “Okay. I'll help you.”

---

Jongin finds himself looking and trailing his eyes up at inches of polished cement glazed over by golden paint. The pillars of the opera house before him are adorned by intricate and rich designs, each having gargoyles that stared down at Jongin with lifeless eyes. Jongin used to only see them inside books.

The opera house, according to Jongdae, is one of the places Jongin could find Kyungsoo; It's where he performs his concerts. And it's just a few miles away from the tall protective walls that separated the city from the outskirts, which was convenient for Jongin if ever the control police would suddenly show up and chase him.

Jongin presses palms down his chest in an attempt to straighten the invisible creases on his dress shirt. He motions to rake fingers through his hair but stops upon remembering that Yifan had already fixed it for him. He checks his breath by mouthing out words with a hand over his lips, fixes his tie, and heaves a sigh before walking into the building.

The smell of aged wood and varnish greets him as he makes his way towards the opera hall, blindly maneuvering through maroon curtains and dim lighting. The building is empty, and it's not soon until Jongin hears the muffled sound of a piano being played from the distance.

The entrance to the opera hall creaks open as Jongin slips inside, and his eyes instantly finds their way to the lone figure at the center of the stage.

Jongin takes the seat closest to him, slowly, gaze glued to the stage, and hands trembling as they guide and lever his weight before he lets his body fall onto the cushion.

Under the stage lights, Kyungsoo looked beautiful, like he was born only for the sole purpose of being on stage-Not to be touched and marred by just anyone. His hands moved to the sound with grace, eyes closed and neck arched upwards. Jongin traces his stare down to the material of Kyungsoo's pressed white shirt tucked under pressed white slacks, which contrasted with black shoes that shone even under the shadow of the grand piano before him.

Jongin stays quiet, mind blank as he watches Kyungsoo play. He slouches against his seat as if to disappear behind the rows of red velvet seats. His presence is made known only after Kyungsoo reaches the last note, hands suspended midair.

Kyungsoo's eyes flutter open, heavy and dark as they meet Jongin's stare. There's a pause before Jongin spots a sense of recognition in Kyungsoo's eyes and he takes it as a sign to stand up and walk towards the other male. Kyungsoo stays on his seat, unmoving as the hall fills up with echoes of Jongin's every step towards him.

“You're... taller than me,” is the first thing that comes out of Kyungsoo's lips as soon as Jongin appears in front of him, close enough for him to touch. He gives Jongin a quick once over before turning his head up to look into Jongin's eyes.

“And you play very well,” Jongin says, breathless as he catches Kyungsoo's gaze.

Kyungsoo doesn't look away as he inches closer to Jongin, and Jongin tries his best to stay calm.

“How?”

Kyungsoo inches closer and closer, until Jongin can feel Kyungsoo's breath brush lightly over his skin, can smell Kyungsoo's scent in the air he breathes in.

“A friend helped me-”

And just like that, Jongin feels soft lips crashing onto his. Kyungsoo pulls Jongin by the tie, detaching his lips just to whisper a curt 'explain later' against Jongin's right ear. Jongin doesn't hold himself back, seeing as this would the first time he wouldn't kiss Kyungsoo with his hands holding onto a mirror. He grabs Kyungsoo by the waist, guiding the older backwards until he's pushing Kyungsoo against the grand piano.

Jongin pulls Kyungsoo closer, and Kyungsoo moans against his mouth. Kyungsoo reaches behind his back for support, only to rest his hand over the piano keys. Cacophonous notes echo inside the hall as random piano keys are smashed every time Kyungsoo shifts and moves.

Kyungsoo only pulls away once footsteps resonate from the backstage, and he pushes Jongin off gently, opting to fix his hair and button his shirt. Jongin reads the situation and he rights himself just in time before someone steps in and looks at Kyungsoo.

“Master has ordered for you to come home, Kyungsoo. He's expecting guests for dinner and he wants you to be there on time,” the person says, voice somehow familiar to Jongin.

“Clarence, please tell father that I will be bringing a friend with me,” Kyungsoo says.

Jongin freezes in spot as the man-Clarence-shoots him a scrutinizing glare.

“Very well. Sir, your chauffeur is ready,” Clarence bows down, slightly, before turning his way towards the exit.

Once Clarence moves out of earshot, Kyungsoo sticks to Jongin and whispers, “He's the one who knocks on my door every morning.”

They get to Kyungsoo's home through a limousine that drove to an extravagant mansion perched on top of an elevation which separated grass from the concrete pavements of Dextro's city. Inside, Kyungsoo's house is embellished walls standing on polished white marble. Jongin finds himself sticking to the red carpet spread from the entrance towards the hallway as he looks around the room with awe, counting how much everything around him costs with lifetimes spent working as currency.

Kyungsoo leads the way towards the ballroom where the guests flocked together, holding glasses of white champagne for display. A server offers Jongin a glass, and Jongin nods as he takes it from the tray with caution. Kyungsoo excuses himself, heading towards a group of men in black suits and women with powdered faces.

Jongin is left at the center of the room, feeling out of place even when his body is wrapped in layers expensive garment. Almost everything around him is something new, something he's never had the pleasure of experiencing before.

He finds a place and stands by the bonsai plant near the ballroom's lavishly decorated entrance. There, Jongin stares at Kyungsoo from the distance-a view where the finest example of Dextro's social culture and grandeur is laid out boldly in front of him. He watches how the older smiles and mutters practiced words of gratefulness, how Kyungsoo blends in perfectly with the crowd, and how the crowd accepts and drinks his whole being. And it's only then that Jongin realizes that maybe crossing the border between their worlds didn't make any changes at all; Kyungsoo is still a whole different world away from him.

Jongin straightens his posture as soon as he sees Kyungsoo walk towards him with a woman following closely behind.

“This is Kim Jongin. I met him a few months ago,” Kyungsoo says, “Jongin, this is Mrs. Smith, she's a vocal teacher.”

“Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kim,” the woman says, holding out a gloved hand towards Jongin.

And Jongin takes the woman's hand gingerly, placing it in the middle of his hand before leaning in and giving it a light kiss. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Smith.”

The woman smiles at him. “So, Mr. Kim, what do you do? Judging from the color of your hair, I think you're probably an artist.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah, rebellious youngsters like you. Always having this urge to dye their hair darker than their natural color,” the woman sighs, and Jongin takes it as a note to look around the ballroom. There was only one other person who had the same hair color as his, others having theirs in the shades of either white or blond.

“He's shown me his works before. I found them pretty. I've never seen someone use the same style as he does,” Kyungsoo says.

“What medium do you use?”

Jongin hesitates. “I use charcoal.”

“Charcoal? Well, I must say, that is an uncommon style here in Dextro, since its use originated from Sinistro-”

“You know very well that I don't like hearing that word, Caroline,” a deep voice interrupts.

“Father-”

“Right, Kyungsoo?” the man adds, and Jongin watches as Kyungsoo reaches a hand up to his right cheek, to the spot where his bruise used to be.

“Have you finished greeting the guests?” the man-Kyungsoo's father-asks Kyungsoo, eyes set on Jongin.

Kyungsoo only nods.

“Then why don't you show your friend around the house?”

“Yes, father.”

Kyungsoo drags Jongin throughout the house. He takes Jongin to the garden, where fresh flowers whose petals were adorned with makeshift dew bloomed even during the night; To the infinity pool, where Kyungsoo tells about how he fell into the water while trying to reach for a falling leaf when he was seven. Inside the house, Kyungsoo recites something about each room like he's been tasked to memorize their descriptions. He tells Jongin about how the has been passed to countless generations of their family, and Jongin only half-listens, mind too troubled over what had happened earlier at the ballroom.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, Jongin stops walking while Kyungsoo trails on how each room is optimized for possible guests.

It doesn't take long before Kyungsoo notices. “Jongin? Are you okay?”

“Your father hurts you?” Jongin asks.

Kyungsoo visibly sighs. “He only used to. You don't have to worry about it.”

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin attempts but he stops, mid-sentence, when he sees Kyungsoo raise a hand up.

“It's part of my father's discipline. I was punished for skipping multiple piano lessons.”

And Jongin gives up right then and there, knowing that he didn't have the right to meddle with Kyungsoo's life. After all, they were not in any kind of commitment; They were only friends.

But Jongin finds out otherwise when, upon reaching the middle of the floor, Kyungsoo drags him by the hand and hauls him into a room.

Kyungsoo is quiet, head turned down to his feet as he fiddles with the collar of his dress shirt.

It's not until Kyungsoo looks up and meets Jongin's eyes that Jongin realizes that the older has been crying.

Jongin looks into Kyungsoo's eyes, and under the moonlight that shone through the white curtains of the room, he finds out that Kyungsoo's eyes aren't really completely black after all as brown hues become more prominent under the light.

He cups Kyungsoo's face, plants a kiss over his nose as he whispers, “Don't worry. I'll help you get out of here.”

Kyungsoo nods, wiping his eyes as he tilts his head to give Jongin a peck on the lips on tiptoe. Jongin kisses him back, but Kyungsoo pulls away shortly.

“Is there something wrong?“ Jongin asks and he watches as Kyungsoo dips his head.

“It's just that-now that you're here. I just thought that we can... do a lot of things we didn't get to do before.”

“Like what?”

Jongin doesn't need to ask more when he hears the click of the doorknob pierce through the silence. He gets a bit startled when Kyungsoo pushes him up against the wall, one knee pressed dangerously close to his crotch.

“Can I?”
It was the last thing any of them said before everything rushes into a flurry of wet open mouthed kisses, suppressed moans, and hands all over heated skin. They stripped, fine wool and imported cotton pooling and crinkling under their feet. And they kissed and fucked with the urgency and neediness of drowning men, slowly and helplessly losing themselves in a whirlpool of unfathomable desire.

And after everything, when both of them lie breathless on their backs, Jongin makes sure to ask Kyungsoo before his eyelids betray him.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

part iii