Galaxy Unraveled
Pairing: taoris
Rating: PG-13
Genre: MiB!au, action, angst
Length: 6.7k
Warnings: [Spoiler (click to open)]violence, slight gore, character death
Summary: Agent T’s been in the Men in Black for a while, and he knows there’s only one thing more dangerous than rogue aliens. written for ktstylefest
One corner of his mouth quirks upward. Agent T is turned away from the explosion, but the heat of the blast caresses the back of his neck. It tickles.
The air stinks of sulfur, which is to be expected when battling Jinzanians. And right now those sons of bitches smell like fried rotten eggs. They’re the textbook definition of nasty. If Agent T hates anything, it’s bugs, and Jinzanians look like 3-meter tall tarantulas with wings, except they have six legs instead of eight. They spit out web stronger than titanium and have an insatiable hunger for human flesh.
Not every alien has malicious intentions when it immigrates to Earth-take Chanyeol, for example, who is dumb as fuck but extremely friendly, the initiate-conversations-while-shitting-in-the-next-stall-over kind of friendly-but Jinzanians are always bad news. That’s why Agent T and Agent K are assigned to this case.
That’s when the Men in Black come in.
Agent T puts on his company-issued sunglasses and struts off like the badass he is. He is strong. He is sexy. He is fierce he is-
“-such a dumbass!” Agent K yells, grabbing Agent T by the back of his neck. “What are you thinking, going back there on that suicide mission?”
Climbing onto a Jinzanian’s back may be a stupid idea, but Agent T isn’t suicidal in the least. He prefers to call himself a gardener. He plants grenades on their backs and watches them bloom into bright, beautiful explosions. It’s passion and fire encompassed into a big bang. It’s creation, not destruction.
Agent T sniffs. “Where were you when I was doing all the work?”
“Exterminating their nest,” Agent K says, letting go of Agent T’s neck, only to whack the back of his head.
“Some of the bastards had already hatched, and they were feeding on human limbs.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah.”
Agent K takes notice of the mess behind them: five alien carcasses charred to a smoky flavor.
“Guess we’ll have to call Agent D for cleanup. Again,” Agent K sighs, pulling out his phone. “Get started on the paperwork, Agent T.”
Agent T grumbles but goes back to the car to reduce their badass battle into legal speak.
Within half an hour, they’re back on the road, blasting Agent K’s trashy rap music because he’s the driver. Agent T rolls down the window and closes his eyes. At this moment, there is nothing but the thump of the bass and the wind dancing through his hair and Agent K’s reassuring presence. He captures this feeling and slips it into his pocket.
His pockets have been empty for a while.
Agent T grabs a small tin sitting in the cupholder, shakes out two mints, and pops one into his mouth. He rolls the mint around on his tongue, and he offers the other mint to Agent K when he notices the unfamiliar road signs.
“Agent K, I think you missed an exit,” he says.
Agent K doesn’t acknowledge him. His eyes are fastened on the road ahead of him, and both hands are planted firmly on the steering wheel. Agent T punches him in the shoulder.
“Yo, asshole! You listening to me or not?”
When Agent K doesn’t even blink, Agent T’s right hand finds his holster, and he whips out his laser gun. He presses the barrel of the gun to the other man’s neck.
“What did you do to my partner?” Agent T hisses.
Not-Agent K slams on the brakes, tires screeching in protest and momentum forcing Agent T to jerk forward. It’s enough of a distraction for Not-Agent K to knock the laser gun out of his hands. Agent T swears, but he instinctively curls his fists and lands a right hook straight in the jaw. Not-Agent K’s neck snaps back. His spine starts cracking, and his bones visibly ripple underneath his skin until everything pops back into place.
“That’s so gross,” Agent T says before he lands another two blows, one on the cheek and the other straight in the eye. “Ew.”
This angers Not-Agent K, who grinds and gnashes his teeth, lunging for Agent T’s face, but Agent T whips out his forearm to block the attack. Canines latch onto his forearm instead, drawing blood. Agent T cries out and reaches for his laser gun, which had been tossed onto the dashboard.
As the teeth gnaw at his flesh, he makes no hesitation this time to blast the son of a bitch into the next dimension. The recoil is nasty, sending Agent T backward. He slams the back of his head on the side of the car.
He recovers a few seconds later to witness a bright red centipede crawl out of Not-Agent K’s mouth. There are a few stray, bloody teeth embedded on its side.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Agent T says. “I fucking hate bugs.”
He pulls the trigger, and centipede guts splatter onto his cheeks.
After he checks to make sure that he finally killed the goddamn thing, he opens the car door. Agent T walks around the car, opens the driver’s seat, and yanks the corpse out. It unceremoniously lands face first onto the concrete. That’s when Agent T hears thrashing coming from the trunk. With one finger wrapped around the trigger, he approaches the source of the disturbance, opens the trunk door, and points his gun at-
“Agent K!”
His partner’s tied up, and somehow all of him is squeezed into the confines of the trunk. He squirms against his bindings, making loud noises around his gag.
After Agent T unties him, Agent K removes his gag and gasps for air. He’s a complete mess, hair sweaty and blood smeared all over his left cheek and fear swimming in his eyes. Another day for the Men in Black.
“We’re going to have to do more paperwork,” Agent K says once he recollects himself and they’re back on the road.
Agent T scoffs and pops a mint into Agent K’s mouth, keeping his fingers pressed to his lips.
“Let’s worry about that later,” Agent T says. “You just got attacked by a Mawkler. They’re almost as creepy as Jinzanians.”
He removes his fingers to let Agent K respond. “Almost? That thing was wearing my face.”
“Yeah, but remember that one time we saw Jinzanians mate?”
Agent K visibly shivers. “Don’t remind me.”
He turns up the music to drown out the bad memories. If Agent T has to be honest, they make more bad memories than good ones in their line of profession, but at least it’s one hell of a ride.
~
“Where the fuck did you get that?” Agent K says, pointing at the offending fuel tank strapped to Agent T’s back.
“Agent B lent it to me,” Agent T says. “Isn’t it cool?”
Agent K finds himself nodding before he catches himself. “We’re going up against a Yoogerm, and all you’re bringing is a flamethrower?”
“It’s a de-atomizing flamethrower. A prototype, but I’m doing Agent B a favor by trying it out,” Agent T says, waving the barrel in the air.
He pulls the trigger and paints the sky a bright, blooming orange. Agent T laughs. He’s having too much fun watching the flames shoot out in a dazzling array of orange and yellow and heat. This baby will definitely incinerate a Yoogerm within a 15-meter radius. It might not be as practical as a laser gun, but it’s fun as hell.
Their hunt for the Yoogerm leads them to an open field, the perfect vicinity for a de-atomizing flamethrower and no obstacles like buildings and civilians. Even though Agent T hates bugs, he hates dealing with citizens the most. Their ignorance and vulnerability disgusts him. Here he is, saving their asses by taking out Yoogerms and Mawklers, while they get to go to school, work office jobs, and sleep peacefully at night.
Agent T never gets to enjoy his sleep. He’s constantly woken up by urgent calls from HQ, constantly forced to risk his life so others can laugh and smile and love without abandon. His life, on the other hand, is full of de-atomizing flamethrowers. It’s secrecy and laser guns and ballistic knives and adrenaline and black suits and most of all never, ever having connections to any human outside of the organization. Friends and family are a luxury the Men in Black can’t afford, but at least he has Agent K to share the burden. At least there’s that.
Agent K nudges Agent T with his shoulder. “Do you see that?”
A young girl in a school uniform and pigtails approaches them from a distance. She looks harmless, but Agent T keeps his finger on the trigger of his flamethrower just in case. He tenses as he watches her run right towards Agent K.
“It’s chasing me! The monster’s chasing me!” she screams, diving straight into Agent K’s arms.
She nearly knocks him over as she screams and yanks at his suit. Agent K tries calming her down at first, but then he suddenly grabs her by the pigtails and yanks her off of him. Her small body lands with a sharp crack, and she stops struggling.
“Is she…?”
“Yeah,” Agent K says, reaching for his holster. “That’s the Yoogerm.”
His hands come up empty because the girl apparently swiped his laser gun from earlier. She has gotten up, despite a dislocated shoulder and an unhinged jaw. Lips twisting into a snarl, she aims the gun at Agent K.
Immediately, Agent T points the barrel straight at the girl and pulls the trigger. A blaze of fire engulfs her. She dances a desperate, demonic waltz as the flames eat at her flesh. It’s grotesque, the way she throws around her useless limbs and bends her body into inhuman shapes. After thrashing around, her lurching sobs crescendo into desperate wails until they finally diminuendo into an eerie silence.
Agent T smiles fondly at the flamethrower. “This is such a fun toy.”
Although Agent K is wearing his sunglasses, Agent T has a feeling he’s rolling his eyes behind his shades.
“You’re filling out the paperwork again. Using a weapon that’s not company-issued adds about three extra documents,” Agent K says.
“But Agent B is a part of the company,” Agent T whines. “It should be fine.”
Before Agent K can respond, the girl’s carcass crumbles. Inside is a giant scorpion-like creature crawling straight toward Agent T. He pulls the trigger again, but nothing comes out, not even a fart of a flame. Shit, he probably used all of his fuel. Agent T swings his fuel pack off and throws it at the Yoogerm. Probably not his brightest idea, considering it dodges the piece of junk with ease.
Agent T is left completely defenseless, so he takes off, heading towards the forest nearby. If he can get to some trees, he can find a broken branch or something to take on this son of a bitch with. But first he has to run.
Adrenaline burns through him, forcing his legs to move faster than they’ve ever gone before. In the back of his mind, he knows Agent K’s tailing them, but he doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for his rescue. The Yoogerm’s pincers snap at his heels, and he yelps, telling himself that he’s almost there, just a little bit more.
That’s when he trips, and the Yoogerm jumps on him and injects its stinger straight into his thigh. A shooting pain runs up and down his leg, and all of his muscles immediately contract. He’s paralyzed. He can’t escape.
The venom begins eating away at his innards. Everything, from his heart to his large intestine, burns. It consumes him organ by organ until it even consumes his identity. He is no longer Agent T; he is pain itself.
Agent T watches helplessly as Agent K leaps up from behind the Yoogerm to grab it by the tail. It thrashes in his grip, tries to claw at him with its pincers, but Agent K quickly beats it against the ground. Its stinger waves around helplessly as he beats it again and again long after it dies.
Agent T tries to talk, but he can barely open his mouth. He manages a pathetic croak that would be funny if he weren’t dying. But Agent K seems to get the idea, so he tosses the Yoogerm aside and pulls down Agent T’s pants to find the sting mark on his leg. When Agent K brings his lips to Agent T’s thigh, Agent T scrunches up his face in a silent howl. Pain isn’t strong enough of a word anymore.
Agent K’s lips are bright red with blood as he sucks the Yoogerm’s venom from Agent T’s circulatory system and spits it out. He repeats this process, and Agent T’s back arches and he’s breathing heavily and he claws at the ground, dirt collecting under his fingernails. It isn’t until centuries of agony pass when most of the venom is out of his system and he appears to be in a more stable condition. Agent K hauls Agent T over his shoulder and carries him to the car, where they have a small collection of intergalactic antidotes for times like this.
Once he removes the syringe from his arm, Agent T laughs dryly. “Feels like I swallowed a flamethrower.”
Agent K offers him a smile. He pauses for a second and then says three words that are a symphony to Agent T’s ears.
“Let’s go home.”
Even though Agent K is the one driving, he lets Agent T pick out the music this time, but Agent T just turns up their regular trashy rap music. No laser guns, no paperwork, just the two of them on a long stretch of road.
Agent T pops a mint into his mouth and is about to pop one into his partner’s mouth when Agent K’s tongue darts out and licks his hand. Agent T yelps and drops the mint. It rolls underneath the car seat and will probably stay there for the next three centuries until Agent K cleans the car.
“Why’d you lick me?” Agent T whines. “That’s so gross!”
Agent K winks.
“Are you trying to be sexy? Because you’re not. If anybody’s sexy here, it’s me,” Agent T says.
“Should we have a sexy contest?” Agent K says.
“A what?”
“You know, to see which one of us is sexier.”
Agent T makes sure to dramatically roll his eyes, but when he looks out the window, he smiles. This, right now, is another moment he wants to keep in his pocket. Never have his pockets felt so full.
As top agents for Men in Black, they’ve struggled through many extraterrestrial battles. However, in the end, they’ll always beat the aliens. It’s part of the job. It’s what Agent T is trained to do, and it’s what he’s good at.
Civilians, however, are a different story. Agent T doesn’t understand them, how they live, why they live. They can be so goddamn unpredictable, which is far more terrifying than the typical Yoogerm.
And that day, a civilian, of all lifeforms, takes down the notorious Agent K in a drunk driving accident.
“Agent K?”
“Agent K?”
“Agent K!”
~
“Erase everything,” Agent S commands. “All his memories of the Men in Black, of me, of you. Everything.”
“But-”
“I mean it, Agent T. Agent K isn’t fit for field work. He’s got the works: head trauma, a broken limb, and a ruptured kidney,” Agent S says.
“Just give him an extended vacation. I’ll make sure he’ll be in perfect condition for fieldwork,” Agent T says. “He can pull through. He’s always pulled through.”
“He got a limp as a souvenir from the crash. It’s not possible.”
Closing his eyes, Agent T imagines taking everything on Agent S’s desk and throwing it on the floor. He sees the computer monitor impaled by a cheap lamp, thumb tacks strewn everywhere, a stapler split in half, a cracked photo frame. Breathing heavily, he looks at the carnage, the destruction and realizes he’s a casualty as well. His ears are bleeding. He doesn’t want to hear the words, but they ring loudly inside of his head and they-
“Don’t be cruel, Agent T. This is what’s best for him.”
There are puddles of Agent T on the floor. He melts until he’s only bones, a skeleton.
“Yes sir.”
Agent S rests his hand on Agent T’s shoulder, squeezes. For a moment he bleeds into Joonmyun, the man who went through the same loss when Agent C was forced to retire early. Those two were the best of the best back in the day. They were the agency’s top counter-reconnaissance team, and without them the Men in Black would have been taken down by a trio of Tchaipolvs eight years ago.
But then Joonmyun straightens his spine and turns back into Agent S.
“Agent K was an invaluable part of the Men in Black,” Agent S says, “but you’ll have to let him go.”
A skeleton walks out of Agent S’s office, slinks out of the Men in Black HQ, and ignites his car engine. It sputters to life with controlled combustion.
(This is the part where Agent K cranks up their trashy rap station, puts on his sunglasses, and pretends he’s a newly debuted idol. And of course Agent T is by his side screaming, “KT in the house!”)
Agent T drives in a silent car all the way to the hospital.
Agent K’s private hospital room is also silent. When Agent T stands in the doorway, he finds his partner staring at the speckled ceiling, drawing constellations. Pisces, Cassiopeia, and Sagittarius don’t look so impressive when they’re trapped in plaster.
“Hey.”
Agent K turns his head slightly, acknowledges him. Partners are more than matching black suits, but it feels so foreign to see Agent K wearing the patterned hospital gown.
“Did you bring me flowers?” Agent K asks.
“Sorry,” Zitao says, reaching under his suit jacket.
“Maybe next time.”
“Yeah.”
He knows. Agent T can see it in Agent K’s eyes.
“At least give me some good memories, okay?” Agent K says.
Agent T nods, pulling out his Neuralyzer.
Neuralyzers look like pens, but instead of ink, they emit a tiny red beam of light, which isolates and measures the electronic impulses in the brain-specifically the ones for memory. They’re standard tools issued by the agency. Agent T uses them all the time on civilians, and he’s never thought twice about whipping it out whenever a bystander gets caught up in his line of work. Sometimes it’s even fun to create new memories, to unwind the threads and twist them into something entirely different. Sometimes, but not now.
Agent T puts on his company-issued sunglasses, which protect his eyes from Neuralyzer beams, and this time he doesn’t feel badass wearing them.
Click.
“Your name is Wu Yifan. You’re in the hospital because you got into a car accident. Drunk driver. When you’re released, you go back to the law firm, which you’ve been working at for five years. You’ve had a happy life, and you’re just glad to be alive,” Agent T says.
But Agent T doesn’t want to leave it at that. He doesn’t want to abandon all of the missions they’ve been on, how they argued over different brands of laser guns, how they baptized each other in stars, how they unraveled galaxies.
Click.
“But after work, you go home to Huang Zitao, who has unconventional office hours. It sometimes requires him to leave unexpectedly for short periods of time. But you accept that because he’ll always come back for you,” Zitao quickly adds. “Always.”
He breathes in Yifan and breathes out sin.
~
“Do you believe in aliens?” Zitao asks.
Yifan shoots back, “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“No, that’s ridiculous.”
~
Agent S hands the manila folder to Agent T. It’s labeled “EXOPlanet,” and Agent T gives his boss a half-interested look, not even bothering to open the file.
“An illegal spaceship landed early this morning. Two male lifeforms. Objective not known, but already 17 civilians are dead,” Agent S says. “I want you to eliminate them.”
“Yes sir.”
“They have a humanoid appearance, but their most notable feature, according to witnesses, is that their eyes flash silver.”
Before now, Agent T hasn’t even heard of EXOPlanet, which means it’s not significant enough to be on the agency’s black lists. It shouldn’t be too hard to take out two of its lifeforms; Agent T has hunted down far more dangerous species. After he quickly finishes this job, he’ll be free to go back home and spend time with Yifan.
Granted, Agent T’s a little rusty since he took two weeks off for personal reasons. Agent S, probably thinking about the former Agent C, was sympathetic enough to give him this time “to recover and to get used to the idea of living without Agent K.”
Instead, Agent T uses his vacation time to bring flowers to Yifan’s bedside, take him home once he was discharged from the hospital, and forge documents and credentials to get him hired at some law firm. It’s exactly the opposite of what the agency wants, but Agent T doesn’t give a flying fuck about the agency. He’s already lost Agent K. He doesn’t want to lose Yifan.
Agent S pats Agent T on the upper arm. “This assignment will help you get back on your feet, make you forget about Agent K.”
(“Fuck you. You think you understand me, but you’re just a lonely, old man. I’m not going to end up like you. I’m not going to be alone.”)
“Yes sir.”
He leaves the office before his frustration can spill over. Agent T slips into his car, this time cranking up the trashy rap music so loud that he can’t hear his anger anymore. He tosses the EXOPlanet manila folder somewhere in the backseat. Fuck paperwork. When his hand reaches for the tin of mints, he realizes it’s empty and throws it out the window. Fuck. Just fuck.
Agent T grips the steering wheel and tempts fate with the gas pedal.
While cruising through the city, Agent T spots a young man walking on the streets, one hand texting away and the other holding an iced coffee drink. It would be a normal sight if it weren’t for the way the man’s eyes flash silver when he twitches. All Agent T has to do is take this man out, and he’ll be halfway done with this job.
Agent T parks the car a block away. Making sure his laser gun is loaded, he begins the chase.
The man doesn’t seem to notice that he’s being followed. He weaves through the city, a small smile on his face as he texts away. He twitches, and his dark brown irises flicker into silver. Agent T observes how the twitches become more frequent, more uncontrolled, more diabolic. The man slips into an alley, not noticing Agent T in his shadow.
Finally out of the public’s sight, the alien drops his phone, hunches over, and vomits dark purple bile. His body convulses as he retches. A long moan escapes him. He looks so harmless, so vulnerable, especially with that baby face and those round cheeks. Agent T, of course, knows better. This son of a bitch is using earthling-adapted mimicry camouflage.
Agent T aims his laser gun at the alien’s back.
The alien turns around, sensing the intruder. Hissing, he lunges toward Agent T and knocks the laser gun out of his hands. Agent T topples backward as the alien pounces on him, hissing and growling. Flecks of bile land on his face. They burn his skin.
“Who do you think you are, earth scum?” the alien demands.
“I’m Agent T,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “the sexiest member of the Men in Black.”
Curling his fists, he punches the alien in the nose. The alien growls, more bile and dark purple blood spilling onto Agent T’s cheeks.
Agent T moans. “Ew, I’m going to apply a deep-cleaning face mask tonight.”
He takes a hit to his left cheekbone and retaliates with a mean hook to the right. They continue exchanging blows until Agent T doesn’t know whether he’s on top or bottom. He grabs both of the alien’s ears and yanks hard, crashing their foreheads together. The impact leaves Agent T seeing stars, entire galaxies splayed out just for him. Howling, the alien scrunches his eyes and cradles his forehead, which gives Agent T enough time to shove the son of a bitch off of him.
The alien lands with a thud, round face scratched up. He wipes his bleeding nose with his bare arm.
“You’re not as tough as you think you are. You’re putting up a front, and it’s pathetic,” the alien spits.
“Shut up,” Agent T says, charging toward him with both of his fists.
He lands a few blows to the underside of the alien’s jaws and staggers backward when he takes a hit on the side of his neck. Agent T manages to grab a hold of his opponent’s wrist. He twists it. Hard. Once he quickly dislocates the alien’s shoulder, Agent T pulls the alien forward to put him in a chokehold.
“Who’s pathetic now?”
Of course, this taunting pisses off the son of a bitch, who elbows Agent T in the stomach. He doubles over with a groan, unable to dodge the lowkick that leaves him crashing to the ground. The alien steps on his chest and applies pressure, which knocks the wind out of Agent T’s lungs. His head is swimming. There are goldfish nibbling at his cerebral cortex.
The alien begins happily stomping on him, and Agent T struggles to roll away, but he’s too busy getting his organs crushed by the heels of a sadistic son of a bitch. He’s so pathetic that he’s ashamed to imagine what Agent K would think if he saw him.
Fueled with a newfound determination, Agent T grabs the alien by his ankles, rolls, and slams the alien down onto the hard concrete. He has a few seconds to spare, so Agent T crawls toward his laser gun. He touches the tip of it when he feels a tight grip on his left calf. The alien tries to pull him away, but Agent T reaches just a bit more to grab the weapon.
He aims the barrel straight toward the alien’s chest, not at all bothered when a splattering of dark purple blood paints his face.
“I will be avenged,” the alien gasps. “Lu Han will find you and kill you.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Agent T says as he pulls the trigger again.
~
“You okay?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
They’re not that close, so it surprises Agent T that Agent D gives him a hug after cleanup. He stands there stiffly as Agent D wraps his arms around him, but then he breaks and lets his colleague support him, shoulder the burden for just a little bit. He needs this reassurance that he’s not alone because he’s been feeling so, so alone. He can almost float away, nothing tethering him to this world, nothing in his pockets to keep him grounded.
“I’m sorry about Agent K. He was a great agent,” Agent D says, pulling away.
“He was.”
“I heard Agent S is going to give you a partner reassignment after the EXOPlanet case. They just recruited a few rookies. Nobody can replace Agent K, but some of them are pretty talented.”
Agent T narrows his eyes. “You need more than talent in this line of profession.”
Agent D says nothing, just gives him this look that can only be described as pity.
Agent T storms away and spends the rest of the night tracking for this so-called Lu Han. He’s close, wherever he is, because Agent T stumbles upon a trail of spaceship parts in an abandoned courtyard.
He brings home a small chunk of the UFO, its wires grotesquely exposed like intestines spilling out of a mechanical abdomen. Agent T hopes he can study it for hints about Lu Han’s whereabouts. But tonight he’s too tired to run tests over it. Not thinking of anything except for slipping under the sheets, of being lulled to sleep by the syncopation of Yifan’s snores, of being wrapped in warmth and dreams, Agent T sets down the UFO chunk in front of the television.
In the morning, Yifan trips over it.
(“What the hell, Agent T! That’s a fucking UFO chunk. You can’t just dump that in the middle of our apartment!” Agent K is supposed to say.)
“I told you to stop buying random shit online. This thing is ugly as fuck,” Yifan says.
Zitao wonders how long he can keep this up, pretending that aliens don’t exist, that the Men in Black don’t exist, that Agent T doesn’t exist. He quickly finishes putting on his suit. Maybe he needs to get away, needs to focus on the EXOPlanet case. Although he doesn’t want to admit it, maybe Agent S is right, that he just needs something to take his mind off of Yifan and the implications that come with him.
Zitao is halfway out the door, a piece of toast jammed in his mouth, when Yifan stops him.
“Are you seriously going out like that?” Yifan asks.
He spins Zitao around until they’re face-to-face. Even though one of his arms is in a cast, Yifan undoes Zitao’s tie, and he slowly re-ties the knot, his brow wrinkled in concentration. Their faces are so close that he can smell Yifan’s coffee breath. Zitao kind of chokes on his toast.
“Things are so hectic at the firm lately, so I’ve been working like crazy. It feels like we haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Yifan says.
“I miss you,” Zitao says.
He misses him so much.
Yifan smiles. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight. How does that sound?”
It’s such a civilian thing to do. It sounds so normal and mundane and somehow exactly what Zitao wants.
“I’d like that, but only if you pay,” Zitao says, allowing himself to smile.
“Fine,” Yifan says. “Just this once.”
When the tie is finished, Yifan’s hands linger on Zitao’s new windsor knot for a second too long.
“That’s how you’re supposed to tie a tie, not that half-assed tangled shit you had earlier,” Yifan says.
Zitao can’t meet Yifan’s eyes, afraid that the truth will leak from his irises. Instead, he mumbles his thanks and bolts for the door. On his way out, he checks the mailbox and sees that there’s a letter inside of it. Agent T opens it:
“A LIFE FOR A LIFE.”
Agent T rips up the letter into tiny pieces. They flutter to the ground, slowly, slowly.
~
Agent T can’t seem to find this Lu Han, but he’s everywhere. He sees Lu Han’s face flash in the crowded streets, laugh back at him in the mirror, and whisper words in the wind. They’re always the same words.
A life for a life.
He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be with Yifan. Lu Han already knows where he lives, so it’s only a matter of time when he’ll strike.
Lu Han becomes the moon and glares at him from the night sky outside of Zitao and Yifan’s apartment. Sometimes Zitao stares back, drawing Yifan’s sleeping body closer to his own. Other times Zitao sits in his pitch-black bathroom, rolling his Neuralyzer between his palms. At least Lu Han can’t reach him there.
Zitao doesn’t get much sleep these days, and he wishes he’s hallucinating, but everything becomes too real when Lu Han finally appears.
Agent T clutches the note left on his pillow, neatly folded into a paper crane:
“COME SEE WHAT I DID ;)”
There’s an address underneath written in precise red strokes. Five seconds later, Agent T floors the accelerator of his car. Without blinking, he jerks the steering wheel, nearly dodging a head-on collision. Screeching tires grate his ears. The other driver blares his horn and flips him off because he’s driving against traffic on the highway. He grits his teeth. Civilians.
Agent T arrives in 23 minutes, 23 minutes too late, at the abandoned warehouse. Eyes flashing silver, Lu Han emerges from the shadows like some cheesy supervillain, only Agent T isn’t amused when his eyes lay on Yifan, who’s struggling against his binds. His wrists and ankles are tied to the arms and legs of a chair.
“Zitao?”
“Zitao, what’s happening?”
“Who is this guy?”
“Zitao!”
Yifan’s in such bad shape. All of his fingernails are missing on his left hand, and fresh cuts spiral his chest and arms. Lu Han must’ve been torturing him to force information out of him, but Agent T had already wrung him dry with his Neuralyzer. Agent K might have known everything about the Men in Black, but Yifan doesn’t, which makes this fruitless torture all Agent T’s fault. He almost cries out at the thought.
When Lu Han drapes himself over his captive, Agent T’s stomach twists, and he whips out his laser gun. He aims the barrel straight at Lu Han’s chest.
“Let him go,” Agent T says in as steady of a voice he can muster.
“That’s funny,” Lu Han chuckles, running his finger along Yifan’s quivering jawline. “I don’t recall you doing the same thing for Minseok. You see, you’ve killed my partner, so it’s only fair that I do the same to yours.”
“Zitao!” Yifan screams.
Lu Han narrows his eyes. He slaps Yifan on the face, effectively shutting him up.
“Don’t touch him!” Agent T shouts. “Don’t touch him, or I will fucking shoot! I’ll fucking do it!”
“Oh really?” Lu Han’s grin flashes neon.
“Let him go, you son of a bitch,” Agent T says.
Lu Han rolls his eyes. “I have a name, you know.”
“I will fucking shoot you long after you’re dead! Let him go!”
“I thought you’d be more fun,” Lu Han says. “Minseok and I came to Earth to have a little bit of fun, but none of you Earthlings want to play. You’re all so boring. All your screams sound the same.”
The alien sighs dramatically. Agent T keeps his finger glued to the trigger of his laser gun.
“Let. Him. Go.”
Pure terror swims in Yifan’s eyes. He looks at Agent T, and Agent T wants to run to him. He wants to share a tin of mints during their car rides, wants to tag team during intergalactic battles, wants to empty everything out of his pockets and offer them to Yifan, to Agent K, to the man he will always call his partner.
“Oops.”
Lu Han twists Yifan’s head with a snap, crackle, pop. He’s now a pile of bones encased in a skin suit. Gone.
(Or maybe he already left when his memories were taken away. Without memories, he was no longer the same person.)
Lu Han giggles. “A life for a life.”
Screams pour into Agent T’s lungs, over inflating them like pink balloons, until they finally burst. Agent T shoots, but the goddamn laser gun is backed up. If only he had his de-atomizing flamethrower or grenade launcher, then Agent T would have blasted this son of a bitch out of this galaxy. Now he’ll just have to settle with tearing Lu Han apart with his own hands. He can’t wait to get dark purple blood under his fingernails.
Tossing his laser gun aside, Agent T rams toward Lu Han with a heavy blow to the upper lip. Lu Han staggers back and spits out two cracked teeth. He offers Agent T a checkerboard smile.
“This is starting to get fun,” Lu Han says.
Lu Han returns the favor with a barrage of blows to the chest. Each blow targets his ribcage, which feels like it’s going to crack any second from now. A particularly powerful punch leaves Agent T with a bleeding bruise on his collarbone. He struggles to block the attacks, but Lu Han is fast. He seems to detect Agent T’s shift in defense since the son of a bitch manages to grab his elbow, twist, and send Agent T crashing to the ground.
Agent T tries to get up, but Lu Han impedes his attempt by kicking him while he’s down. When his head hits the concrete floor, he tries pushing himself back up, but Lu Han kicks him again, sending him sprawling. This is pathetic. Agent T knows this, but all of the blows are getting to him, and one of his eyelids is sealed shut with a black eye.
When Lu Han kicks a third time, Agent T uses the momentum from the impact to roll away and quickly get up. Facing Lu Han, he narrows his good eye and holds up his fists. His muscles, every organ in his body, screams in agony. It’s like he fell down the stairs and was run over by a steamroller. Twice.
“I wish Minseok could see you now,” Lu Han says. “I’ve rearranged your face quite nicely.”
“Shut up, you son of a bitch,” Agent T says.
Lu Han frowns. “That’s not my name.”
Agent T lets Lu Han charge at him, and at the last second he steps away, grabbing Lu Han’s arm and spinning him into his chest. Holding Lu Han close, he throws himself to the ground and makes sure to land on Lu Han, whose face rubs against the concrete floor. Agent T presses his weight against Lu Han, trapping him underneath, while he punches the son of a bitch and his pretty boy face.
He pummels Lu Han relentlessly, every blow an apology to Yifan, to Agent K. This blow is for the nights they used to have. This blow is for the nights that will never come. This blow is to knock Lu Han straight into the night.
Without remorse, Agent T pounds all of the broken dreams and fallen stars into the alien’s skull. Taking blows to his eyes, his brow, his jaw, his cheekbones, Lu Han’s pale skin blooms into beautiful bruises.
He bleeds everywhere, dark purple blood painting Agent T’s knuckles. Although Lu Han struggles to free himself, Agent T doesn’t allow him a centimeter of freedom and grabs Lu Han by the throat, squeezing all of his frustration and grief. The more Lu Han struggles, the harder he presses until Lu Han gradually stops fighting back. When Agent T feels life start to slip away from his fingertips, he releases the throat from his grip.
“Any last words, you son of a bitch?” Agent T says.
Gasping and sputtering, Lu Han spits out a few teeth. Agent T slaps him.
“You think you’ve won, but there are more of us,” Lu Han smiles with half of his face since the other half is shattered. “We’ve got an entire planet more.”
He giggles crookedly, and the laughter limps its way under Agent T’s skin.
Agent T gets up and stomps on Lu Han’s face until the alien’s skull caves in. To him, Lu Han is a bug, and bugs need to be squished. He keeps stomping, keeps driving his foot into the pulverized flesh, until Lu Han is no longer recognizable. Agent T doesn’t even recognize himself as someone else keeps killing a lifeless corpse.
His eyes sting. At first he thinks it’s tears, but he realizes that it’s actually blood.
“I’ll-I’ll kill you all. I’ll go to your fucking EXOPlanet and kill all of you sick motherfuckers,” Agent T says.
The words taste sour, almost prickly. He repeats them until his tongue goes numb.
~
“Do you believe in aliens?” Zitao asks.
Yifan shoots back, “Do you believe in ghosts?”
(“I want to.”)
A/N: I've been meaning to crosspost this for... a year... oops. I miss Taoris :'( Sail on, my ship of dreams!
Rating: PG-13
Genre: MiB!au, action, angst
Length: 6.7k
Warnings: [Spoiler (click to open)]violence, slight gore, character death
Summary: Agent T’s been in the Men in Black for a while, and he knows there’s only one thing more dangerous than rogue aliens. written for ktstylefest
One corner of his mouth quirks upward. Agent T is turned away from the explosion, but the heat of the blast caresses the back of his neck. It tickles.
The air stinks of sulfur, which is to be expected when battling Jinzanians. And right now those sons of bitches smell like fried rotten eggs. They’re the textbook definition of nasty. If Agent T hates anything, it’s bugs, and Jinzanians look like 3-meter tall tarantulas with wings, except they have six legs instead of eight. They spit out web stronger than titanium and have an insatiable hunger for human flesh.
Not every alien has malicious intentions when it immigrates to Earth-take Chanyeol, for example, who is dumb as fuck but extremely friendly, the initiate-conversations-while-shitting-in-the-next-stall-over kind of friendly-but Jinzanians are always bad news. That’s why Agent T and Agent K are assigned to this case.
That’s when the Men in Black come in.
Agent T puts on his company-issued sunglasses and struts off like the badass he is. He is strong. He is sexy. He is fierce he is-
“-such a dumbass!” Agent K yells, grabbing Agent T by the back of his neck. “What are you thinking, going back there on that suicide mission?”
Climbing onto a Jinzanian’s back may be a stupid idea, but Agent T isn’t suicidal in the least. He prefers to call himself a gardener. He plants grenades on their backs and watches them bloom into bright, beautiful explosions. It’s passion and fire encompassed into a big bang. It’s creation, not destruction.
Agent T sniffs. “Where were you when I was doing all the work?”
“Exterminating their nest,” Agent K says, letting go of Agent T’s neck, only to whack the back of his head.
“Some of the bastards had already hatched, and they were feeding on human limbs.”
“Ew.”
“Yeah.”
Agent K takes notice of the mess behind them: five alien carcasses charred to a smoky flavor.
“Guess we’ll have to call Agent D for cleanup. Again,” Agent K sighs, pulling out his phone. “Get started on the paperwork, Agent T.”
Agent T grumbles but goes back to the car to reduce their badass battle into legal speak.
Within half an hour, they’re back on the road, blasting Agent K’s trashy rap music because he’s the driver. Agent T rolls down the window and closes his eyes. At this moment, there is nothing but the thump of the bass and the wind dancing through his hair and Agent K’s reassuring presence. He captures this feeling and slips it into his pocket.
His pockets have been empty for a while.
Agent T grabs a small tin sitting in the cupholder, shakes out two mints, and pops one into his mouth. He rolls the mint around on his tongue, and he offers the other mint to Agent K when he notices the unfamiliar road signs.
“Agent K, I think you missed an exit,” he says.
Agent K doesn’t acknowledge him. His eyes are fastened on the road ahead of him, and both hands are planted firmly on the steering wheel. Agent T punches him in the shoulder.
“Yo, asshole! You listening to me or not?”
When Agent K doesn’t even blink, Agent T’s right hand finds his holster, and he whips out his laser gun. He presses the barrel of the gun to the other man’s neck.
“What did you do to my partner?” Agent T hisses.
Not-Agent K slams on the brakes, tires screeching in protest and momentum forcing Agent T to jerk forward. It’s enough of a distraction for Not-Agent K to knock the laser gun out of his hands. Agent T swears, but he instinctively curls his fists and lands a right hook straight in the jaw. Not-Agent K’s neck snaps back. His spine starts cracking, and his bones visibly ripple underneath his skin until everything pops back into place.
“That’s so gross,” Agent T says before he lands another two blows, one on the cheek and the other straight in the eye. “Ew.”
This angers Not-Agent K, who grinds and gnashes his teeth, lunging for Agent T’s face, but Agent T whips out his forearm to block the attack. Canines latch onto his forearm instead, drawing blood. Agent T cries out and reaches for his laser gun, which had been tossed onto the dashboard.
As the teeth gnaw at his flesh, he makes no hesitation this time to blast the son of a bitch into the next dimension. The recoil is nasty, sending Agent T backward. He slams the back of his head on the side of the car.
He recovers a few seconds later to witness a bright red centipede crawl out of Not-Agent K’s mouth. There are a few stray, bloody teeth embedded on its side.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Agent T says. “I fucking hate bugs.”
He pulls the trigger, and centipede guts splatter onto his cheeks.
After he checks to make sure that he finally killed the goddamn thing, he opens the car door. Agent T walks around the car, opens the driver’s seat, and yanks the corpse out. It unceremoniously lands face first onto the concrete. That’s when Agent T hears thrashing coming from the trunk. With one finger wrapped around the trigger, he approaches the source of the disturbance, opens the trunk door, and points his gun at-
“Agent K!”
His partner’s tied up, and somehow all of him is squeezed into the confines of the trunk. He squirms against his bindings, making loud noises around his gag.
After Agent T unties him, Agent K removes his gag and gasps for air. He’s a complete mess, hair sweaty and blood smeared all over his left cheek and fear swimming in his eyes. Another day for the Men in Black.
“We’re going to have to do more paperwork,” Agent K says once he recollects himself and they’re back on the road.
Agent T scoffs and pops a mint into Agent K’s mouth, keeping his fingers pressed to his lips.
“Let’s worry about that later,” Agent T says. “You just got attacked by a Mawkler. They’re almost as creepy as Jinzanians.”
He removes his fingers to let Agent K respond. “Almost? That thing was wearing my face.”
“Yeah, but remember that one time we saw Jinzanians mate?”
Agent K visibly shivers. “Don’t remind me.”
He turns up the music to drown out the bad memories. If Agent T has to be honest, they make more bad memories than good ones in their line of profession, but at least it’s one hell of a ride.
~
“Where the fuck did you get that?” Agent K says, pointing at the offending fuel tank strapped to Agent T’s back.
“Agent B lent it to me,” Agent T says. “Isn’t it cool?”
Agent K finds himself nodding before he catches himself. “We’re going up against a Yoogerm, and all you’re bringing is a flamethrower?”
“It’s a de-atomizing flamethrower. A prototype, but I’m doing Agent B a favor by trying it out,” Agent T says, waving the barrel in the air.
He pulls the trigger and paints the sky a bright, blooming orange. Agent T laughs. He’s having too much fun watching the flames shoot out in a dazzling array of orange and yellow and heat. This baby will definitely incinerate a Yoogerm within a 15-meter radius. It might not be as practical as a laser gun, but it’s fun as hell.
Their hunt for the Yoogerm leads them to an open field, the perfect vicinity for a de-atomizing flamethrower and no obstacles like buildings and civilians. Even though Agent T hates bugs, he hates dealing with citizens the most. Their ignorance and vulnerability disgusts him. Here he is, saving their asses by taking out Yoogerms and Mawklers, while they get to go to school, work office jobs, and sleep peacefully at night.
Agent T never gets to enjoy his sleep. He’s constantly woken up by urgent calls from HQ, constantly forced to risk his life so others can laugh and smile and love without abandon. His life, on the other hand, is full of de-atomizing flamethrowers. It’s secrecy and laser guns and ballistic knives and adrenaline and black suits and most of all never, ever having connections to any human outside of the organization. Friends and family are a luxury the Men in Black can’t afford, but at least he has Agent K to share the burden. At least there’s that.
Agent K nudges Agent T with his shoulder. “Do you see that?”
A young girl in a school uniform and pigtails approaches them from a distance. She looks harmless, but Agent T keeps his finger on the trigger of his flamethrower just in case. He tenses as he watches her run right towards Agent K.
“It’s chasing me! The monster’s chasing me!” she screams, diving straight into Agent K’s arms.
She nearly knocks him over as she screams and yanks at his suit. Agent K tries calming her down at first, but then he suddenly grabs her by the pigtails and yanks her off of him. Her small body lands with a sharp crack, and she stops struggling.
“Is she…?”
“Yeah,” Agent K says, reaching for his holster. “That’s the Yoogerm.”
His hands come up empty because the girl apparently swiped his laser gun from earlier. She has gotten up, despite a dislocated shoulder and an unhinged jaw. Lips twisting into a snarl, she aims the gun at Agent K.
Immediately, Agent T points the barrel straight at the girl and pulls the trigger. A blaze of fire engulfs her. She dances a desperate, demonic waltz as the flames eat at her flesh. It’s grotesque, the way she throws around her useless limbs and bends her body into inhuman shapes. After thrashing around, her lurching sobs crescendo into desperate wails until they finally diminuendo into an eerie silence.
Agent T smiles fondly at the flamethrower. “This is such a fun toy.”
Although Agent K is wearing his sunglasses, Agent T has a feeling he’s rolling his eyes behind his shades.
“You’re filling out the paperwork again. Using a weapon that’s not company-issued adds about three extra documents,” Agent K says.
“But Agent B is a part of the company,” Agent T whines. “It should be fine.”
Before Agent K can respond, the girl’s carcass crumbles. Inside is a giant scorpion-like creature crawling straight toward Agent T. He pulls the trigger again, but nothing comes out, not even a fart of a flame. Shit, he probably used all of his fuel. Agent T swings his fuel pack off and throws it at the Yoogerm. Probably not his brightest idea, considering it dodges the piece of junk with ease.
Agent T is left completely defenseless, so he takes off, heading towards the forest nearby. If he can get to some trees, he can find a broken branch or something to take on this son of a bitch with. But first he has to run.
Adrenaline burns through him, forcing his legs to move faster than they’ve ever gone before. In the back of his mind, he knows Agent K’s tailing them, but he doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for his rescue. The Yoogerm’s pincers snap at his heels, and he yelps, telling himself that he’s almost there, just a little bit more.
That’s when he trips, and the Yoogerm jumps on him and injects its stinger straight into his thigh. A shooting pain runs up and down his leg, and all of his muscles immediately contract. He’s paralyzed. He can’t escape.
The venom begins eating away at his innards. Everything, from his heart to his large intestine, burns. It consumes him organ by organ until it even consumes his identity. He is no longer Agent T; he is pain itself.
Agent T watches helplessly as Agent K leaps up from behind the Yoogerm to grab it by the tail. It thrashes in his grip, tries to claw at him with its pincers, but Agent K quickly beats it against the ground. Its stinger waves around helplessly as he beats it again and again long after it dies.
Agent T tries to talk, but he can barely open his mouth. He manages a pathetic croak that would be funny if he weren’t dying. But Agent K seems to get the idea, so he tosses the Yoogerm aside and pulls down Agent T’s pants to find the sting mark on his leg. When Agent K brings his lips to Agent T’s thigh, Agent T scrunches up his face in a silent howl. Pain isn’t strong enough of a word anymore.
Agent K’s lips are bright red with blood as he sucks the Yoogerm’s venom from Agent T’s circulatory system and spits it out. He repeats this process, and Agent T’s back arches and he’s breathing heavily and he claws at the ground, dirt collecting under his fingernails. It isn’t until centuries of agony pass when most of the venom is out of his system and he appears to be in a more stable condition. Agent K hauls Agent T over his shoulder and carries him to the car, where they have a small collection of intergalactic antidotes for times like this.
Once he removes the syringe from his arm, Agent T laughs dryly. “Feels like I swallowed a flamethrower.”
Agent K offers him a smile. He pauses for a second and then says three words that are a symphony to Agent T’s ears.
“Let’s go home.”
Even though Agent K is the one driving, he lets Agent T pick out the music this time, but Agent T just turns up their regular trashy rap music. No laser guns, no paperwork, just the two of them on a long stretch of road.
Agent T pops a mint into his mouth and is about to pop one into his partner’s mouth when Agent K’s tongue darts out and licks his hand. Agent T yelps and drops the mint. It rolls underneath the car seat and will probably stay there for the next three centuries until Agent K cleans the car.
“Why’d you lick me?” Agent T whines. “That’s so gross!”
Agent K winks.
“Are you trying to be sexy? Because you’re not. If anybody’s sexy here, it’s me,” Agent T says.
“Should we have a sexy contest?” Agent K says.
“A what?”
“You know, to see which one of us is sexier.”
Agent T makes sure to dramatically roll his eyes, but when he looks out the window, he smiles. This, right now, is another moment he wants to keep in his pocket. Never have his pockets felt so full.
As top agents for Men in Black, they’ve struggled through many extraterrestrial battles. However, in the end, they’ll always beat the aliens. It’s part of the job. It’s what Agent T is trained to do, and it’s what he’s good at.
Civilians, however, are a different story. Agent T doesn’t understand them, how they live, why they live. They can be so goddamn unpredictable, which is far more terrifying than the typical Yoogerm.
And that day, a civilian, of all lifeforms, takes down the notorious Agent K in a drunk driving accident.
“Agent K?”
“Agent K?”
“Agent K!”
~
“Erase everything,” Agent S commands. “All his memories of the Men in Black, of me, of you. Everything.”
“But-”
“I mean it, Agent T. Agent K isn’t fit for field work. He’s got the works: head trauma, a broken limb, and a ruptured kidney,” Agent S says.
“Just give him an extended vacation. I’ll make sure he’ll be in perfect condition for fieldwork,” Agent T says. “He can pull through. He’s always pulled through.”
“He got a limp as a souvenir from the crash. It’s not possible.”
Closing his eyes, Agent T imagines taking everything on Agent S’s desk and throwing it on the floor. He sees the computer monitor impaled by a cheap lamp, thumb tacks strewn everywhere, a stapler split in half, a cracked photo frame. Breathing heavily, he looks at the carnage, the destruction and realizes he’s a casualty as well. His ears are bleeding. He doesn’t want to hear the words, but they ring loudly inside of his head and they-
“Don’t be cruel, Agent T. This is what’s best for him.”
There are puddles of Agent T on the floor. He melts until he’s only bones, a skeleton.
“Yes sir.”
Agent S rests his hand on Agent T’s shoulder, squeezes. For a moment he bleeds into Joonmyun, the man who went through the same loss when Agent C was forced to retire early. Those two were the best of the best back in the day. They were the agency’s top counter-reconnaissance team, and without them the Men in Black would have been taken down by a trio of Tchaipolvs eight years ago.
But then Joonmyun straightens his spine and turns back into Agent S.
“Agent K was an invaluable part of the Men in Black,” Agent S says, “but you’ll have to let him go.”
A skeleton walks out of Agent S’s office, slinks out of the Men in Black HQ, and ignites his car engine. It sputters to life with controlled combustion.
(This is the part where Agent K cranks up their trashy rap station, puts on his sunglasses, and pretends he’s a newly debuted idol. And of course Agent T is by his side screaming, “KT in the house!”)
Agent T drives in a silent car all the way to the hospital.
Agent K’s private hospital room is also silent. When Agent T stands in the doorway, he finds his partner staring at the speckled ceiling, drawing constellations. Pisces, Cassiopeia, and Sagittarius don’t look so impressive when they’re trapped in plaster.
“Hey.”
Agent K turns his head slightly, acknowledges him. Partners are more than matching black suits, but it feels so foreign to see Agent K wearing the patterned hospital gown.
“Did you bring me flowers?” Agent K asks.
“Sorry,” Zitao says, reaching under his suit jacket.
“Maybe next time.”
“Yeah.”
He knows. Agent T can see it in Agent K’s eyes.
“At least give me some good memories, okay?” Agent K says.
Agent T nods, pulling out his Neuralyzer.
Neuralyzers look like pens, but instead of ink, they emit a tiny red beam of light, which isolates and measures the electronic impulses in the brain-specifically the ones for memory. They’re standard tools issued by the agency. Agent T uses them all the time on civilians, and he’s never thought twice about whipping it out whenever a bystander gets caught up in his line of work. Sometimes it’s even fun to create new memories, to unwind the threads and twist them into something entirely different. Sometimes, but not now.
Agent T puts on his company-issued sunglasses, which protect his eyes from Neuralyzer beams, and this time he doesn’t feel badass wearing them.
Click.
“Your name is Wu Yifan. You’re in the hospital because you got into a car accident. Drunk driver. When you’re released, you go back to the law firm, which you’ve been working at for five years. You’ve had a happy life, and you’re just glad to be alive,” Agent T says.
But Agent T doesn’t want to leave it at that. He doesn’t want to abandon all of the missions they’ve been on, how they argued over different brands of laser guns, how they baptized each other in stars, how they unraveled galaxies.
Click.
“But after work, you go home to Huang Zitao, who has unconventional office hours. It sometimes requires him to leave unexpectedly for short periods of time. But you accept that because he’ll always come back for you,” Zitao quickly adds. “Always.”
He breathes in Yifan and breathes out sin.
~
“Do you believe in aliens?” Zitao asks.
Yifan shoots back, “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“No, that’s ridiculous.”
~
Agent S hands the manila folder to Agent T. It’s labeled “EXOPlanet,” and Agent T gives his boss a half-interested look, not even bothering to open the file.
“An illegal spaceship landed early this morning. Two male lifeforms. Objective not known, but already 17 civilians are dead,” Agent S says. “I want you to eliminate them.”
“Yes sir.”
“They have a humanoid appearance, but their most notable feature, according to witnesses, is that their eyes flash silver.”
Before now, Agent T hasn’t even heard of EXOPlanet, which means it’s not significant enough to be on the agency’s black lists. It shouldn’t be too hard to take out two of its lifeforms; Agent T has hunted down far more dangerous species. After he quickly finishes this job, he’ll be free to go back home and spend time with Yifan.
Granted, Agent T’s a little rusty since he took two weeks off for personal reasons. Agent S, probably thinking about the former Agent C, was sympathetic enough to give him this time “to recover and to get used to the idea of living without Agent K.”
Instead, Agent T uses his vacation time to bring flowers to Yifan’s bedside, take him home once he was discharged from the hospital, and forge documents and credentials to get him hired at some law firm. It’s exactly the opposite of what the agency wants, but Agent T doesn’t give a flying fuck about the agency. He’s already lost Agent K. He doesn’t want to lose Yifan.
Agent S pats Agent T on the upper arm. “This assignment will help you get back on your feet, make you forget about Agent K.”
(“Fuck you. You think you understand me, but you’re just a lonely, old man. I’m not going to end up like you. I’m not going to be alone.”)
“Yes sir.”
He leaves the office before his frustration can spill over. Agent T slips into his car, this time cranking up the trashy rap music so loud that he can’t hear his anger anymore. He tosses the EXOPlanet manila folder somewhere in the backseat. Fuck paperwork. When his hand reaches for the tin of mints, he realizes it’s empty and throws it out the window. Fuck. Just fuck.
Agent T grips the steering wheel and tempts fate with the gas pedal.
While cruising through the city, Agent T spots a young man walking on the streets, one hand texting away and the other holding an iced coffee drink. It would be a normal sight if it weren’t for the way the man’s eyes flash silver when he twitches. All Agent T has to do is take this man out, and he’ll be halfway done with this job.
Agent T parks the car a block away. Making sure his laser gun is loaded, he begins the chase.
The man doesn’t seem to notice that he’s being followed. He weaves through the city, a small smile on his face as he texts away. He twitches, and his dark brown irises flicker into silver. Agent T observes how the twitches become more frequent, more uncontrolled, more diabolic. The man slips into an alley, not noticing Agent T in his shadow.
Finally out of the public’s sight, the alien drops his phone, hunches over, and vomits dark purple bile. His body convulses as he retches. A long moan escapes him. He looks so harmless, so vulnerable, especially with that baby face and those round cheeks. Agent T, of course, knows better. This son of a bitch is using earthling-adapted mimicry camouflage.
Agent T aims his laser gun at the alien’s back.
The alien turns around, sensing the intruder. Hissing, he lunges toward Agent T and knocks the laser gun out of his hands. Agent T topples backward as the alien pounces on him, hissing and growling. Flecks of bile land on his face. They burn his skin.
“Who do you think you are, earth scum?” the alien demands.
“I’m Agent T,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “the sexiest member of the Men in Black.”
Curling his fists, he punches the alien in the nose. The alien growls, more bile and dark purple blood spilling onto Agent T’s cheeks.
Agent T moans. “Ew, I’m going to apply a deep-cleaning face mask tonight.”
He takes a hit to his left cheekbone and retaliates with a mean hook to the right. They continue exchanging blows until Agent T doesn’t know whether he’s on top or bottom. He grabs both of the alien’s ears and yanks hard, crashing their foreheads together. The impact leaves Agent T seeing stars, entire galaxies splayed out just for him. Howling, the alien scrunches his eyes and cradles his forehead, which gives Agent T enough time to shove the son of a bitch off of him.
The alien lands with a thud, round face scratched up. He wipes his bleeding nose with his bare arm.
“You’re not as tough as you think you are. You’re putting up a front, and it’s pathetic,” the alien spits.
“Shut up,” Agent T says, charging toward him with both of his fists.
He lands a few blows to the underside of the alien’s jaws and staggers backward when he takes a hit on the side of his neck. Agent T manages to grab a hold of his opponent’s wrist. He twists it. Hard. Once he quickly dislocates the alien’s shoulder, Agent T pulls the alien forward to put him in a chokehold.
“Who’s pathetic now?”
Of course, this taunting pisses off the son of a bitch, who elbows Agent T in the stomach. He doubles over with a groan, unable to dodge the lowkick that leaves him crashing to the ground. The alien steps on his chest and applies pressure, which knocks the wind out of Agent T’s lungs. His head is swimming. There are goldfish nibbling at his cerebral cortex.
The alien begins happily stomping on him, and Agent T struggles to roll away, but he’s too busy getting his organs crushed by the heels of a sadistic son of a bitch. He’s so pathetic that he’s ashamed to imagine what Agent K would think if he saw him.
Fueled with a newfound determination, Agent T grabs the alien by his ankles, rolls, and slams the alien down onto the hard concrete. He has a few seconds to spare, so Agent T crawls toward his laser gun. He touches the tip of it when he feels a tight grip on his left calf. The alien tries to pull him away, but Agent T reaches just a bit more to grab the weapon.
He aims the barrel straight toward the alien’s chest, not at all bothered when a splattering of dark purple blood paints his face.
“I will be avenged,” the alien gasps. “Lu Han will find you and kill you.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Agent T says as he pulls the trigger again.
~
“You okay?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
They’re not that close, so it surprises Agent T that Agent D gives him a hug after cleanup. He stands there stiffly as Agent D wraps his arms around him, but then he breaks and lets his colleague support him, shoulder the burden for just a little bit. He needs this reassurance that he’s not alone because he’s been feeling so, so alone. He can almost float away, nothing tethering him to this world, nothing in his pockets to keep him grounded.
“I’m sorry about Agent K. He was a great agent,” Agent D says, pulling away.
“He was.”
“I heard Agent S is going to give you a partner reassignment after the EXOPlanet case. They just recruited a few rookies. Nobody can replace Agent K, but some of them are pretty talented.”
Agent T narrows his eyes. “You need more than talent in this line of profession.”
Agent D says nothing, just gives him this look that can only be described as pity.
Agent T storms away and spends the rest of the night tracking for this so-called Lu Han. He’s close, wherever he is, because Agent T stumbles upon a trail of spaceship parts in an abandoned courtyard.
He brings home a small chunk of the UFO, its wires grotesquely exposed like intestines spilling out of a mechanical abdomen. Agent T hopes he can study it for hints about Lu Han’s whereabouts. But tonight he’s too tired to run tests over it. Not thinking of anything except for slipping under the sheets, of being lulled to sleep by the syncopation of Yifan’s snores, of being wrapped in warmth and dreams, Agent T sets down the UFO chunk in front of the television.
In the morning, Yifan trips over it.
(“What the hell, Agent T! That’s a fucking UFO chunk. You can’t just dump that in the middle of our apartment!” Agent K is supposed to say.)
“I told you to stop buying random shit online. This thing is ugly as fuck,” Yifan says.
Zitao wonders how long he can keep this up, pretending that aliens don’t exist, that the Men in Black don’t exist, that Agent T doesn’t exist. He quickly finishes putting on his suit. Maybe he needs to get away, needs to focus on the EXOPlanet case. Although he doesn’t want to admit it, maybe Agent S is right, that he just needs something to take his mind off of Yifan and the implications that come with him.
Zitao is halfway out the door, a piece of toast jammed in his mouth, when Yifan stops him.
“Are you seriously going out like that?” Yifan asks.
He spins Zitao around until they’re face-to-face. Even though one of his arms is in a cast, Yifan undoes Zitao’s tie, and he slowly re-ties the knot, his brow wrinkled in concentration. Their faces are so close that he can smell Yifan’s coffee breath. Zitao kind of chokes on his toast.
“Things are so hectic at the firm lately, so I’ve been working like crazy. It feels like we haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Yifan says.
“I miss you,” Zitao says.
He misses him so much.
Yifan smiles. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight. How does that sound?”
It’s such a civilian thing to do. It sounds so normal and mundane and somehow exactly what Zitao wants.
“I’d like that, but only if you pay,” Zitao says, allowing himself to smile.
“Fine,” Yifan says. “Just this once.”
When the tie is finished, Yifan’s hands linger on Zitao’s new windsor knot for a second too long.
“That’s how you’re supposed to tie a tie, not that half-assed tangled shit you had earlier,” Yifan says.
Zitao can’t meet Yifan’s eyes, afraid that the truth will leak from his irises. Instead, he mumbles his thanks and bolts for the door. On his way out, he checks the mailbox and sees that there’s a letter inside of it. Agent T opens it:
“A LIFE FOR A LIFE.”
Agent T rips up the letter into tiny pieces. They flutter to the ground, slowly, slowly.
~
Agent T can’t seem to find this Lu Han, but he’s everywhere. He sees Lu Han’s face flash in the crowded streets, laugh back at him in the mirror, and whisper words in the wind. They’re always the same words.
A life for a life.
He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be with Yifan. Lu Han already knows where he lives, so it’s only a matter of time when he’ll strike.
Lu Han becomes the moon and glares at him from the night sky outside of Zitao and Yifan’s apartment. Sometimes Zitao stares back, drawing Yifan’s sleeping body closer to his own. Other times Zitao sits in his pitch-black bathroom, rolling his Neuralyzer between his palms. At least Lu Han can’t reach him there.
Zitao doesn’t get much sleep these days, and he wishes he’s hallucinating, but everything becomes too real when Lu Han finally appears.
Agent T clutches the note left on his pillow, neatly folded into a paper crane:
“COME SEE WHAT I DID ;)”
There’s an address underneath written in precise red strokes. Five seconds later, Agent T floors the accelerator of his car. Without blinking, he jerks the steering wheel, nearly dodging a head-on collision. Screeching tires grate his ears. The other driver blares his horn and flips him off because he’s driving against traffic on the highway. He grits his teeth. Civilians.
Agent T arrives in 23 minutes, 23 minutes too late, at the abandoned warehouse. Eyes flashing silver, Lu Han emerges from the shadows like some cheesy supervillain, only Agent T isn’t amused when his eyes lay on Yifan, who’s struggling against his binds. His wrists and ankles are tied to the arms and legs of a chair.
“Zitao?”
“Zitao, what’s happening?”
“Who is this guy?”
“Zitao!”
Yifan’s in such bad shape. All of his fingernails are missing on his left hand, and fresh cuts spiral his chest and arms. Lu Han must’ve been torturing him to force information out of him, but Agent T had already wrung him dry with his Neuralyzer. Agent K might have known everything about the Men in Black, but Yifan doesn’t, which makes this fruitless torture all Agent T’s fault. He almost cries out at the thought.
When Lu Han drapes himself over his captive, Agent T’s stomach twists, and he whips out his laser gun. He aims the barrel straight at Lu Han’s chest.
“Let him go,” Agent T says in as steady of a voice he can muster.
“That’s funny,” Lu Han chuckles, running his finger along Yifan’s quivering jawline. “I don’t recall you doing the same thing for Minseok. You see, you’ve killed my partner, so it’s only fair that I do the same to yours.”
“Zitao!” Yifan screams.
Lu Han narrows his eyes. He slaps Yifan on the face, effectively shutting him up.
“Don’t touch him!” Agent T shouts. “Don’t touch him, or I will fucking shoot! I’ll fucking do it!”
“Oh really?” Lu Han’s grin flashes neon.
“Let him go, you son of a bitch,” Agent T says.
Lu Han rolls his eyes. “I have a name, you know.”
“I will fucking shoot you long after you’re dead! Let him go!”
“I thought you’d be more fun,” Lu Han says. “Minseok and I came to Earth to have a little bit of fun, but none of you Earthlings want to play. You’re all so boring. All your screams sound the same.”
The alien sighs dramatically. Agent T keeps his finger glued to the trigger of his laser gun.
“Let. Him. Go.”
Pure terror swims in Yifan’s eyes. He looks at Agent T, and Agent T wants to run to him. He wants to share a tin of mints during their car rides, wants to tag team during intergalactic battles, wants to empty everything out of his pockets and offer them to Yifan, to Agent K, to the man he will always call his partner.
“Oops.”
Lu Han twists Yifan’s head with a snap, crackle, pop. He’s now a pile of bones encased in a skin suit. Gone.
(Or maybe he already left when his memories were taken away. Without memories, he was no longer the same person.)
Lu Han giggles. “A life for a life.”
Screams pour into Agent T’s lungs, over inflating them like pink balloons, until they finally burst. Agent T shoots, but the goddamn laser gun is backed up. If only he had his de-atomizing flamethrower or grenade launcher, then Agent T would have blasted this son of a bitch out of this galaxy. Now he’ll just have to settle with tearing Lu Han apart with his own hands. He can’t wait to get dark purple blood under his fingernails.
Tossing his laser gun aside, Agent T rams toward Lu Han with a heavy blow to the upper lip. Lu Han staggers back and spits out two cracked teeth. He offers Agent T a checkerboard smile.
“This is starting to get fun,” Lu Han says.
Lu Han returns the favor with a barrage of blows to the chest. Each blow targets his ribcage, which feels like it’s going to crack any second from now. A particularly powerful punch leaves Agent T with a bleeding bruise on his collarbone. He struggles to block the attacks, but Lu Han is fast. He seems to detect Agent T’s shift in defense since the son of a bitch manages to grab his elbow, twist, and send Agent T crashing to the ground.
Agent T tries to get up, but Lu Han impedes his attempt by kicking him while he’s down. When his head hits the concrete floor, he tries pushing himself back up, but Lu Han kicks him again, sending him sprawling. This is pathetic. Agent T knows this, but all of the blows are getting to him, and one of his eyelids is sealed shut with a black eye.
When Lu Han kicks a third time, Agent T uses the momentum from the impact to roll away and quickly get up. Facing Lu Han, he narrows his good eye and holds up his fists. His muscles, every organ in his body, screams in agony. It’s like he fell down the stairs and was run over by a steamroller. Twice.
“I wish Minseok could see you now,” Lu Han says. “I’ve rearranged your face quite nicely.”
“Shut up, you son of a bitch,” Agent T says.
Lu Han frowns. “That’s not my name.”
Agent T lets Lu Han charge at him, and at the last second he steps away, grabbing Lu Han’s arm and spinning him into his chest. Holding Lu Han close, he throws himself to the ground and makes sure to land on Lu Han, whose face rubs against the concrete floor. Agent T presses his weight against Lu Han, trapping him underneath, while he punches the son of a bitch and his pretty boy face.
He pummels Lu Han relentlessly, every blow an apology to Yifan, to Agent K. This blow is for the nights they used to have. This blow is for the nights that will never come. This blow is to knock Lu Han straight into the night.
Without remorse, Agent T pounds all of the broken dreams and fallen stars into the alien’s skull. Taking blows to his eyes, his brow, his jaw, his cheekbones, Lu Han’s pale skin blooms into beautiful bruises.
He bleeds everywhere, dark purple blood painting Agent T’s knuckles. Although Lu Han struggles to free himself, Agent T doesn’t allow him a centimeter of freedom and grabs Lu Han by the throat, squeezing all of his frustration and grief. The more Lu Han struggles, the harder he presses until Lu Han gradually stops fighting back. When Agent T feels life start to slip away from his fingertips, he releases the throat from his grip.
“Any last words, you son of a bitch?” Agent T says.
Gasping and sputtering, Lu Han spits out a few teeth. Agent T slaps him.
“You think you’ve won, but there are more of us,” Lu Han smiles with half of his face since the other half is shattered. “We’ve got an entire planet more.”
He giggles crookedly, and the laughter limps its way under Agent T’s skin.
Agent T gets up and stomps on Lu Han’s face until the alien’s skull caves in. To him, Lu Han is a bug, and bugs need to be squished. He keeps stomping, keeps driving his foot into the pulverized flesh, until Lu Han is no longer recognizable. Agent T doesn’t even recognize himself as someone else keeps killing a lifeless corpse.
His eyes sting. At first he thinks it’s tears, but he realizes that it’s actually blood.
“I’ll-I’ll kill you all. I’ll go to your fucking EXOPlanet and kill all of you sick motherfuckers,” Agent T says.
The words taste sour, almost prickly. He repeats them until his tongue goes numb.
~
“Do you believe in aliens?” Zitao asks.
Yifan shoots back, “Do you believe in ghosts?”
(“I want to.”)
A/N: I've been meaning to crosspost this for... a year... oops. I miss Taoris :'( Sail on, my ship of dreams!