On This Planet Spinning (8/23)
On This Planet Spinning
aka post-apocalypse au, aka painfic
Pairings:[Spoiler (click to open)]Baekxing, Xiuhan, Chansoo (+Chanyeol/Plant)
Genre: post-apocalypse, fantasy, drama, romance
Rating: R
Length: 137K total
Warnings: mature themes, violence/injury, some possibly disturbing imagery, threat of death, poor mental health, very brief mentions of suicidal ideation(?), sad times
Summary: Over a century after meteors destroyed Earth, making the surface uninhabitable, communities are returning from their bunkers and attempting to recolonize the planet. But resources are scarce, tensions are high, and neighbouring communities X-22 and Q-16 are fighting tooth and nail over the Valley, a rare patch of fertile land. Add to that a controversial group of humans with special abilities, and people will start to realize it's not the coming winter that's humanity's biggest obstacle-it's humanity itself. But that doesn't mean hope doesn't exist.
Chapter links: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
Character cheat sheet for Chapter 7 here
*****
It takes Baekhyun over a week, in his confused and disoriented state, to realize something is wrong. Time is passing-days-he doesn’t know how many but he knows it’s been several-and none of his friends have come by to visit him.
He wonders why for hours, he thinks, until Liyin comes in to check on him, patting his clammy skin with a damp cloth and asking him how he’s feeling.
He answers her questions as best as he can, still struggling with speaking and forming coherent sentences, and then he side-eyes the paranormals on the other side of the room as he says, “Liyin? Are people not allowed to...visit me?”
His nurse gives him a strange look. “No, they can. Your mother has been by, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He frowns. “Then where’s...Chanyeol?”
Liyin’s face falls immediately, and Baekhyun feels dread crawl up his spine. “Baekhyun, he...don’t you remember?”
Fear clutches at his stomach, and he wants to throw up. “Tell me,” he croaks.
“He’s gone,” she says quietly, eyes wide.
Baekhyun sees Yixing’s face crumple in the background. And then he closes his eyes and sobs.
Liyin’s explanation of what happened, once Baekhyun has recovered enough from his sudden overwhelming waves of grief to hear it, sparks his memory a little. Usually, Baekhyun would have been ecstatic. He’s had a few short bursts of remembering in the past couple days, a few of the multitudinal, enormous holes in his memory filling themselves in, and it had been exciting. But this is not the way he wants to remember things. If it takes this much pain, and this much anguish, just to remember the situation surrounding his best friend’s disappearance and possible death, then god, leave him in the dark.
“Your other friend, Yifan?” Liyin says carefully. “He and his friend Luhan disappeared the following night. Not in battle or anything. I heard he was hoping to run a rescue mission, against orders.”
Baekhyun nods numbly. He remembers that, sort of, now that she’s mentioned it. It only makes him feel marginally better.
He forgot his own best friend’s death.
Talking about Chanyeol does, however, spur one important memory of his, and he nearly tries to bolt upright in his bed when it registers-which wouldn’t have worked regardless, but that’s not the point. He gasps, flapping his hand over his aching chest, and wheezes, “Oh, god, the plant. I’m s’pposed to...his plant.”
“What?” Joonmyun says flatly from the corner. Liyin just looks concerned.
“Chanyeol has a plant.” Baekhyun struggles to find the right words, to make himself understood, and it’s never felt so important until now. He nearly screams with frustration. “In his...his...workshop. By the, the window. Okay? Bring it to me.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Liyin says, eyebrows furrowed. “I can do that.”
Baekhyun tries his best not to panic while he waits for her return. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the little potted plant was watered, but he hopes to god he’s not too late. If that fucking thing is dead-the last thing he has left of Chanyeol, the last request given to him by Yifan before he too disappeared-Baekhyun will never be able to forgive himself. He doesn’t know what he’ll do.
Liyin returns ten minutes later, and Baekhyun nearly sobs with relief. The plant is a little droopy, a little wilted, but Baekhyun knows it’s not beyond saving. “Thank you,” he says, swallowing hard.
“I’ll put it on the windowsill, love,” Liyin says gently, smiling at him in reassurance as she settles it in place.
“You need to...water it,” Baekhyun tells her, still trembling with the force of his relief-or maybe that’s the hypoxic tremors.
“Of course,” Liyin says, and dumps Baekhyun’s own cup of water into the soil. Baekhyun doesn’t mind at all.
Yixing steps forward suddenly-Baekhyun had forgotten he was still in the room. “We can give it a small boost, if you’d like,” he says gently. “It’s what we’re best at.”
Baekhyun stares at him, then at Joonmyun behind him. The latter looks unhappy, as usual, but he does offer, “It’s a strong plant, in case you were worried. Impressive, actually, how much energy is stored inside it. Any idea what kind it is?”
Baekhyun shakes his head. He doesn’t even think Chanyeol knew.
“Joon?” Yixing asks, imploring.
“Yeah, fine, we’ll boost the plant,” Joonmyun mutters.
“Is it...safe?” Baekhyun interrupts, nervousness spiking through him. “For the plant.”
Yixing nods, smiling reassuringly. “We’ve done this hundreds of times. You won’t even notice a difference, but it’ll thrive more.”
“Okay,” Baekhyun says quietly.
The pair goes silent, concentrating, and a few seconds later, they’re done. Baekhyun does not, indeed, notice any difference. He tries to convince himself the plant’s leaves look a little perkier, though.
“Thank you,” he says, not taking his eyes off the green leaves that greedily soak up sunlight.
“Of course,” Yixing says, now looking tired, and Joonmyun grunts.
They leave a few minutes later to rest in the other room, but Liyin stays, sitting by Baekhyun’s raised bed and talking to him quietly, idly. It’s obvious that she’s constantly testing his memory-asking questions about something someone said earlier, prompting Baekhyun to repeat a response again a few minutes after he said it. It’s tiring, especially when Baekhyun fails the tests. And it’s depressing.
“I used to have friends,” he says quietly, staring at the window. “Now I just have...a plant. God.”
Liyin looks at him for a long moment, then says, “Honey, I think you need a new friend.”
“What, to...replace my old ones?” Baekhyun snaps, working himself into righteous annoyance in a split second. Liyin had warned him that he may experience mood swings post brain trauma. He hates that as much as everything else-not being in control of himself.
“Of course not,” his nurse says soothingly. “But you’re lonely. You were right, earlier, about no one visiting you. You need someone to talk to, other than me.”
“Yixing talks to me,” Baekhyun mutters. Not that he can really appreciate that. His father’s been drilling it into his brain for months that paranormals can’t be trusted-it’s one of the few things he remembers clearly.
“I know, and that’s great. But you need someone you can share with. I think it’ll help the healing process, don’t you? Being able to talk through your memories in a relaxed setting, with a friend.” Liyin purses her lips. “Do you have anyone you can talk to like that?”
Baekhyun grits his teeth, shakes his head. “No. They’re all...gone.”
“Can you think of someone else?” Liyin presses. “A childhood friend, someone you work with?”
Baekhyun shakes his head again. He wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing his memories with someone he knows, someone that knows everyone. Q-16 is a web of interconnected relationships-if he tells one person something, the whole community will know within the day. It’s simply how they operate. They don’t really keep secrets.
Well, no one but Baekhyun.
Liyin sighs. “Keep thinking, okay? I’m asking as your healer. This would be good for you, Baekhyun. I know you’ve lost a lot recently. But in times of need, a friend can go a long way. Humans rely on each other.”
Baekhyun huffs out a short breath. “There’s no one in Q-16-” He pauses, blinks. A new memory tugs at his mind, prompted by the name of his community. He grasps at it, tries to hold onto the connection his faulty mind is making.
“Well, let me know if you think of any,” Liyin says, standing to leave.
“Wait,” Baekhyun says, eyes closed, brows furrowed. “There’s an...allied group, right? That joined?”
“Q-17?” Liyin asks uncertainly.
“Yes.” Baekhyun’s eyes snap open. “Luhan had a friend. A Builder.”
Liyin hums thoughtfully. “A Builder? Jongdae?”
Recognition flickers in Baekhyun’s brain. “Is he still here?”
“Yes, of course.” Liyin smiles slightly. “He gets small injuries often, I seem to treat him more than most.”
Baekhyun wants to grin in triumph. Instead, he just says, “I want him.”
“Oh. Well. I’ll let him know. Are you friends?”
Baekhyun shakes his head slightly. “We could be, though.”
Liyin chuckles softly. “Alright. It’s good to hear you being optimistic, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun isn’t even listening to her anymore. This Jongdae guy is perfect. He doesn’t know Baekhyun, doesn’t know Baekhyun’s past, doesn’t know what he’s like. He didn’t grow up with them, he doesn’t have connections, doesn’t feel obligated to gossip about everything anyone tells him. He’s separate from the group, he’s isolated.
Maybe he can keep the secrets Baekhyun needs to let out.
He meets Jongdae the next day-he’s seen him around before, but he’s never actually talked to Luhan’s Builder friend before. He seems like he’s about Baekhyun’s age, with an open, curious face. The kind of face that makes you think he could be anyone’s friend. He looks confused, of course, when he walks into Baekhyun’s room. Baekhyun doesn’t blame him.
“You...wanted me?” he asks, eyebrows quirked as he looks Baekhyun over.
Baekhyun rubs at his eyes as furiously as his weak, trembling hands allow. Liyin had just left and let Jongdae in after her. “Sorry. Physical...therapy. Hurts like...hell.”
Jongdae just nods. “You look like hell.”
Baekhyun lets out a short, wheezy laugh. “No one ever says that...to me.”
Jongdae grins. “They’re all lying, then.”
“I know.” Baekhyun grins back.
He made a good choice.
“So, what do you need me for?” Jongdae asks. “Liyin said you need a friend, but I’m getting the feeling that’s not all.”
Baekhyun tries out a shrug, and decides he won’t be doing that again anytime soon. “Well, she’s right.”
“But?”
Jongdae is smart. “There’s a bit...more to it than that. I need a...recovery buddy,” Baekhyun admits.
“Go on.” He looks interested.
Baekhyun looks around the room. “Are those paranormals awake?”
Jongdae lifts his eyebrows, then sidles into the connected room and takes a peek. “Out cold,” he reports.
“Sit down.” Baekhyun gestures weakly at the chair next to his bed, slightly lower than his raised bed frame (to keep him off the cold floor-most people’s bed mats are directly on the ground). He frowns as his hands twitch uncontrollably.
Jongdae does, resting his chin on his hands attentively. “All ears.”
Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “My memory...is shit.”
“Yeah? Mine’s not great either.”
“No, my memory is...I lost a bunch. A lot. And I had...a lot to lose.”
“You’re not that old.”
Baekhyun gives Jongdae a steady look. “Imagine if you had...all your memories. All of them. Every day. Every...detail. You just...remembered. They’d...pile up, right?”
Jongdae’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “I’m assuming you’re not just speaking hypothetically?”
Baekhyun shakes his head. “You can’t tell...anyone about this. Okay? If you do-”
“I’ll be murdered?” Jongdae asks, looking amused.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Baekhyun says, tilting his chin up to meet his challenging look.
“Yikes.” Jongdae sticks out his tongue. “Not that I have anyone to tell, anyway.”
“Good.” Baekhyun smiles. “I have a...a...superior. Memory.” Damn, he can’t remember the word for the life of him. Ironic. “If you tell it to me once, I remember it forever. I remember...dates. Numbers. Names. Facts. Whatever they...tell me. I’m an...encyclo...encyc…”
“Encyclopedia?” Jongdae prompts.
Baekhyun offers a small, humorless smile. “Thank you.”
“But since the explosion...?” Jongin tilts his head curiously.
“Gone,” Baekhyun says, wincing as the grief of it hits him anew. “A lot of them.”
“Ouch,” Jongdae says with a mirroring wince of his own.
“And some of them are…” He huffs. “Important.”
“Important how?”
Baekhyun gingerly shakes his head. “People...rely on me to remember things. Big things. But I’ve...forgotten.”
“Cryptic,” Jongdae says.
“Yeah. Well.” Baekhyun sniffs. “Can’t tell you things I’ve forgotten.”
Jongdae chuckles, nodding his agreement. “Alright. Fair enough.”
Baekhyun laughs as well, a soft cough of air, and he looks away, to his window. To the plant on the sill, quivering slightly in the breeze. It looks so frail, with its thin stalks and droopy leaves. Like Baekhyun.
“Baekhyun?” Jongdae prompts.
“Hm?” Baekhyun blinks at him. “What?”
“Were you going to...finish filling me in on why you need me?”
Baekhyun stares at him, long and hard. “What are you doing here?”
Jongdae gapes at him. “Are you messing with me?”
A cold rush of fear fills Baekhyun’s gut. He swallows hard, afraid he’ll throw up. “Did I...forget again?” he whispers.
Jongdae just keeps staring. “Do you...know who I am?”
Baekhyun squints, focuses hard. “Jongdae, right? That Builder from...Q-17? Luhan’s friend?”
“Yeah,” Jongdae breathes. “I’m here to be your recovery buddy.”
“Oh.” Baekhyun thinks that over. “That’s...a good idea. You’re...de...detached. From. The community.”
“What?”
“Don’t wanna tell...the community. Big...secret.” Baekhyun suddenly feels so, so tired. “You’ll do it?”
“What do I have to do?”
“Hmm. Be m’ friend.” Baekhyun’s speech gets more slurred the more exhausted he gets. “Be nice. Kay? But not too nice. ‘M not...a baby.”
“Alright,” Jongdae says, looking confused and concerned.
“Listen to my...memories. Talking...might help.”
“Okay,” Jongdae says, more confident this time.
“Lots of...holes. In m’ brain.” Baekhyun sniffs, tries not to get teary-eyed. God, no, the mood swings. “So much...blurriness. Was so clear. Before.”
“Yeah, it’s fine, we can work on that.”
“Everything is so hard.” Baekhyun exhales a sound that might be a sob. “Can’t remember...simple facts. Names. Numbers. And sometimes I forget...right away. Right after I’m told.” He muffles a whimper into the back of his hand. “Sorry. Just...scared. God, this is...shit.”
“Yeah,” Jongdae says quietly, his curly lips downturned, somber.
“My brain is the only reason I’m...important,” Baekhyun says, eyes burning. “Made me..special. Made me wanted.” He breathes out slowly, hates himself. “This is torture.”
“Yeah,” Jongdae says again. “That’s really shitty, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun likes how he doesn’t say I’m sorry, or It’ll get better. He doesn’t make empty promises, doesn’t give meaningless condolences. He just agrees. It’s nice.
“So you’ll...help?” Baekhyun asks, probably sounding pathetic and desperate but currently not giving a fuck.
“Yeah, sure,” Jongdae says, offering a small grin. “I want to know important secrets, too.”
Baekhyun manages a smile in response. “Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Jongdae raises his hand, presumably to punch him in the shoulder, a friendly gesture, but then obviously thinks better of it and ruffles his disgustingly greasy hair instead. “See you around, okay?”
“Yeah,” Baekhyun whispers.
Several hours later, Baekhyun sees the plant on his windowsill and says, “Hey, where’s Chanyeol? That...fucker, hasn’t even come to visit me.”
The only two people in the room-Yixing and Joonmyun-freeze and stare at him. Baekhyun stares back. “What?”
It’s Yixing that finally speaks up, nervous and unsure. “Baekhyun...your friend Chanyeol is gone. Liyin told you earlier today.”
His meltdown is, Baekhyun assumes, not as terrible as it was the first two times. He doesn’t cry. He just lies there in his bed, feeling like a cold, sickening blackness is spreading through his whole body. Yixing sits next to him, holds his hands, says soft, soothing words, but Baekhyun feels like he’s a million miles away. He feels like he’s submerged, and everything else is muted and far away.
When everything clears again, Yixing is still at his bedside, even though it’s dark outside now, and he’s still holding Baekhyun’s hands. He’s asleep, forehead resting on the foam mat of his bed, and the sheet beneath his eyes is damp. Baekhyun would feel touched, he thinks, if he could feel anything.
He can’t forget Chanyeol. He can’t forget something this important. All that other stuff, those things he’s supposed to remember, he thinks he could live with forgetting that forever. But not this. He won’t forget this again.
He can’t.
And he’s going to need help.
***
At night, Chanyeol dreams.
Sometimes, of course, he’s not sure what’s all a dream and what is desperate wishful thinking. Sometimes he’s not sure if he’s awake and hallucinating or truly asleep or somewhere in between. He already tries so hard not to sleep-if he’s sleeping, he’s losing more time with Kyungsoo, more time talking to a real human being. But it’s inevitable. He has to be awake in time for morning meal-breakfast, they call it here-so by the end of the day, he’s exhausted beyond belief, after working long hours and dealing with the constant stress of his slowly healing injuries. In the end, he always falls asleep before he’s ready.
In sleep, Chanyeol’s friends join him. Sometimes they’re outside, sometimes they’re in Chanyeol’s new workshop-prison. Sometimes they’re in his home, in the room he shares with Baekhyun and Yifan. His friends smile at him, and talk to him. They tell him he doesn’t have to go back to that place. They talk about lots of things. Luhan tells him a funny story about his Builder friends, and Chanyeol cracks up laughing. Baekhyun tells him the fields are doing really well, Q-16 is eating well, they’re not going to starve this winter. Yifan tells him they finally won the Valley, and they don’t have to fight anymore. And they talk about simpler things. They discuss favourite meals. They talk about books they read as kids. Places they heard about but never dreamed of being able to visit. Toys they had back in the bunker, when things were easier, because they were young and didn’t know they couldn’t stay there.
The dream changes, and Yifan is rescuing Chanyeol from X-22. He’s breaking down the door, and he’s grinning. “Don’t worry,” he says, holding Chanyeol’s old blaster. “They’ll pay for what they did to you.”
Chanyeol is happy, but he’s worried, too. He feels torn. He hates X-22, because they took him away from his home, forced him to do things he didn’t want to do. But he doesn’t hate the people he’s met. Joohyun and Seulgi aren’t warm towards him, but they aren’t evil. He sees them talk sometimes, outside his workshop, and they smile at each other, they hold hands and laugh, they kiss each other quickly before trading shifts. And even Boa, the community leader, was not evil when Chanyeol met her. She reminded him of his mother. Strong, determined, unrelenting in the face of difficult decisions. And he doesn’t hate Kyungsoo. He could never hate Kyungsoo. Yifan means to kill them, to make them pay, but Chanyeol doesn’t want that. He hates the community, but not the people. Does that make sense? He tries to tell Yifan that, but Yifan doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why Chanyeol isn’t happy.
How can he ever understand what Chanyeol has learned here?
The dream changes again. Baekhyun is sitting in the cockpit of the Machine. He doesn’t understand that it’s meant to kill people. Maybe to kill his own community. He’s happy up there. He’s smiling at Chanyeol.
“It’s quiet without you,” he says. He’s just visiting. Chanyeol will be sad to see him go. “It’s too bad you can’t come back.”
“I will,” Chanyeol tells him. “I’ll come back soon.”
“I hope so,” Baekhyun says with a nod. He swings his legs. “How are you doing out here? You must be enjoying yourself. You get to fix a lot of things.”
“I’m lonely,” Chanyeol says. “It’s so lonely.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
“It’s so lonely,” he says again. “I want to go home so bad.”
“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says.
“I’m still fixing that puzzle box you gave me.”
“That’s good. It’s not done yet?”
“No, not done yet. I think I can do it eventually though. I’m not giving up.”
“I’m glad you have something to remember me by,” Baekhyun says, pleased.
“I’m glad, too,” Chanyeol says.
“I’m sorry you’re lonely,” Baekhyun tells him, sad again.
“I have Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol tells him.
“Who is that? Have I met him?”
“No, of course not. He’s from this community. He acts like a friend, even if he can’t be one.”
“Chanyeol, he’s an enemy.”
“I know, Baekhyun, but he’s also a friend. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t.”
Chanyeol doesn’t know how to explain to Baekhyun what he tried to tell Yifan before. How he hates the community but not the people. “He talks to me.”
“That doesn’t mean much.”
“But it does to me. And he knows it. He doesn’t have to talk to me.”
“Do you like him?”
Chanyeol is surprised by that question. “Yes,” he says. “He makes me laugh.”
“I like him, then.”
“I thought you said he’s an enemy.”
“Anyone who makes you laugh is no enemy of mine.” Baekhyun laughs. “I want to meet him.”
“I don’t think that’ll ever happen,” Chanyeol says. “Sorry.”
Baekhyun looks down at him, his eyes warm and sad. “We miss you,” he says. “I miss you.”
It hurts. Chanyeol thinks it’s unfair that it has to hurt. “Don’t say that.”
“Okay.” Baekhyun understands.
“Is someone taking care of my plant?” Chanyeol asks now. He needs to know.
“Yes, of course,” Baekhyun says, soothing. “It’ll be there when you come back.”
“That’s good. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Baekhyun says. “It’s growing. It’ll be bigger when you get back.”
“It there a flower? Or a fruit?” Chanyeol asks. He doesn’t know what his plant is supposed to look like.
“You’ll have to come look yourself,” Baekhyun says. Balls.
“I guess so.”
“How are you?” Baekhyun asks. His fingers curl around the edge of the cockpit floor where he sits on the edge. Familiar hands. Always cold, though.
“Sometimes good, sometimes bad,” Chanyeol answers honestly. “My leg hurts. But it’s getting better.”
“Do you think you’ll ever fix this machine?” Baekhyun asks, kicking his feet against the rusty stair.
“I don’t know. It’s really complex. It’s really old. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Will you fix it if you can, even though it’s dangerous?” Baekhyun asks.
“They’ll make me fix it,” Chanyeol says. “What if they stop feeding me? I’ll have to fix it.”
“But will you let them use it, Chanyeol? Will you let them use it after you’ve fixed it?”
Chanyeol understands what he means. He’s already thought about it. Chanyeol knows how to fix things, but he also knows how to break them. He knows how to make them destroy themselves. He could make it look like an accident, maybe. By that time, he might be gone already.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.”
“I wish you’d come back,” Baekhyun says with a smile. “It’s quiet without you.”
“Don’t leave me alone.” Chanyeol panics. Baekhyun is going to leave him. He’ll have nothing again. What if no one else comes to visit him?
“I’ll talk to you later, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun smiles wider. At least that’s the last image Chanyeol sees of him. Smiling.
The dream changes.
It’s dark now. Cold. It’s so cold, and Chanyeol’s on the concrete floor. He just has his blanket under him, and the cold seeps up through it, bites into his aching leg. Sometimes the cold feels good on it, but today it hurts.
Kyungsoo is there. Chanyeol feels so relieved. He’s not alone. They don’t say anything, but Kyungsoo smiles at him, and hands him a platter of food. Hot food, freshly cooked. Things Chanyeol hasn’t eaten in years and years. Mashed potatoes made from freeze-dried flakes, with gravy on top, the kind made from brown powder. Hot cocoa in a standard tin mug. That was just for his birthday. He thinks he was turning six. He doesn’t question why Kyungsoo has it. Maybe X-22 didn’t run out like Q-16 did.
It’s cold, and cold, and cold, but the food is so warm, and Kyungsoo is smiling. Chanyeol eats, and he feels safe, and taken care of. He doesn’t feel scared or alone. Kyungsoo laughs, even though Chanyeol didn’t say anything. It’s a silent laugh-Chanyeol’s never heard it in real life before. But it’s beautiful anyway.
Chanyeol finishes eating, and he’s still cold, and it’s still dark, and damp. He lies down on his blanket. Kyungsoo brings him another. He throws it over Chanyeol, warm and soft, and then he crawls right underneath with him, and he’s warm and soft, too. He talks to Chanyeol-quiet, unintelligible words. His breath tickles Chanyeol’s nose. Chanyeol doesn’t mind. He’s just happy he isn’t alone. He doesn’t like being alone all the time. He’s so glad Kyungsoo is here, with him, talking to him, pressed up against him. Even if his breath tickles Chanyeol’s nose.
Chanyeol sneezes, and his eyes open.
It’s cold on the floor-even colder than it had been in his dream-and Kyungsoo isn’t there. He’d been there when Chanyeol fell asleep, but he’s gone now, and Chanyeol hates that. He can never stay awake long enough.
It’s raining outside. Raining hard, beating down on the roof of the shop. It drips through the ceiling in a couple places-drips onto the Machine, no wonder it’s rusted. It’s so cold. Wind blows in through the barred door. It’s barely morning; he must have just missed Kyungsoo. Joohyun is here now, standing just inside the door to keep out of the rain, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looks miserable.
Chanyeol has another blanket, too, like he had in the dream. He didn’t have it when he fell asleep. Kyungsoo must have brought it after all.
But he didn’t crawl underneath it with Chanyeol. He’s not dumb enough to think that.
He sighs, groans. He feels stiff and uncomfortable, and his nose is running. He feels more alone than ever. He wants to fall back asleep, but he knows he won’t. It’s time to get up for the day, to start working. He has to make sure the leaks aren’t ruining his papers. He has to keep going.
At least Baekhyun will be happy about the rain. The fields needed it.
***
After the rain, the earth springs to life around X-22-and Jongin, already so sensitive to these things, hadn’t thought it was all that lacking in the first place. Now, the ground is teeming with energy. The full day of rain had been overwhelming for him. So much energy surrounding him, sinking into the soil, sinking into his hair and skin. But it’s a lot better now, a lot more steady. It feels so alive. It’s too much, but almost in a good way. He knows the earth is healing.
He and Minseok have been practicing a lot. Every single day, again and again and again. They practice until they’re exhausted, and then they rest and try again. Minseok pushes himself hard, and he pushes Jongin hard. He teases and he pushes and he tries to rile Jongin up, until they’re both breathing hard and aching all over. And Minseok is grinning. And Jongin always has to grin, too, even when he’s annoyed and frustrated. Minseok is good at that.
But Minseok can’t be with him all the time-doesn’t want to be, surely-so Jongin is alone. No one else is interested in talking to him. The majority of X-22 continues to be scared of him or to look down on him, and the rest just give him a wide berth. Jongin is used to that, by now. He’s still not used to living without Joonmyun and Yixing-he’s not sure if he’ll ever be used to that, if it’ll ever hurt less-but he’s used to everyone else avoiding him.
Except Sehun. The younger brother. Jongin still...has no idea what’s going on there. He was confused when the brothers approached him, and he’s confused now, days later. After the elder, Kyungsoo, left to work, Sehun remained, but he was very quiet. Shy, maybe, or possibly just unsure why he was there, too. But he asked Jongin a few questions-his age, what bunker he came from, what he was doing in X-22. Sehun answered his own questions, too. Eighteen, like Jongin. Bunker West X-22, obviously. Ex-soldier, now Grower.
“I see you in the fields sometimes,” Sehun told him, all mumbly and soft, eyes averted. “With Minseok.”
“I work there,” Jongin answered, still waiting for Sehun to tell him what he was really after. But it never came.
“Yeah,” Sehun said instead. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”
They’d stayed at the table until people came to shoo them away so they could clean up the community center, not really talking much, just awkwardly sitting in each other’s presence. It had been uncomfortable, and afterwards Sehun just said, “I’ll see you later,” and walked away. Jongin went home and spent the evening alone, as usual. Not really expecting Sehun to ever talk to him again.
But he was back the next day, and the next. Jongin thinks maybe Kyungsoo is forcing him to, but Sehun doesn’t look like he resists that much. He just slumps into the seat across from Jongin with his tray of food and eats and occasionally asks questions or makes comments. “Who’s that guy Minseok is always with?” he asked one time. “He’s new.”
“I don’t know,” Jongin said, truthfully. “He doesn’t talk about him.”
“He doesn’t? But family units share everything.”
“He’s not in my family unit.”
“Minseok’s not?” Sehun looked confused. “Then who is?”
“No one,” Jongin told him. “It’s just me now.”
“Oh.” Sehun looked really...sad about that. Not that Jongin wasn’t-isn’t-sad about it, too, but he doesn’t know why Sehun would care. “In my family unit it’s me and Kyungsoo now.”
“Now?” Jongin asked, even though he usually doesn’t ask questions.
“Well, yeah. For a long time it was me and Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo’s parents-well, my parents, too, I guess. Mine died during and after the plague.” Sehun blushed, like it was embarrassing. “So I joined Kyungsoo’s family unit. And then when Kyungsoo was old enough, he moved out, and was in a family unit with some other older guys. So we were still brothers, I guess, but not unit brothers. But now I’m old enough to move out, so we live together, just us two. It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” Jongin said. Sehun and Kyungsoo match up well. Their energies don’t match, the way Jongin and Minseok’s do, but they seem to be complementary. Their personalities, too.
He doesn’t match up very well with Jongin. Frequency is similar, but strength is completely different. Not that energies have to match or be complementary for a personal connection to form between two people. But he thinks about it a lot anyway.
Jongin’s busy after the rainfall, and he figures Sehun probably is, too. He still visits Jongin every day at supper, and at lunch too if they end up eating at the same time. Minseok always looks at them, eyebrows dancing, and Jongin always wants to punch him for that. That’s probably why Minseok does it. He’s always trying to get Jongin to punch him.
They never spend time together in the evenings, though, like Kyungsoo had suggested, until maybe a week after the rain. Jongin is eating supper, sore and tired and a little weak from his and Minseok’s practice session, and Sehun is sitting across from him, eating his own, and suddenly Sehun says, “Do you want to see my house?”
“What?”
Sehun is all pink in the face again. He gets embarrassed about the weirdest things. Jongin realizes he never told Sehun that his parents died in the plague, too. “I don’t know. I was just wondering if you wanted to see my house.”
“Why would I want to?” Jongin asks. “I’ve seen your house before. It’s right near mine.”
“I know, but you haven’t seen the inside.” Sehun shrugs. “You don’t have to. I was just wondering.”
Jongin thinks about it. He’ll be alone all evening if he says no. Which is something he’s getting used to. But maybe...maybe a change would be nice, even though he still doesn’t understand why Sehun is asking. He tries to convince himself it’s not some kind of trap. Kyungsoo seemed nice. He wouldn’t let his younger brother do something awful to Jongin, right? “Sure,” he says eventually, giving his own shrug. “I guess.”
Sehun lights up a little, which is...nice. No one ever lights up around Jongin.
They go to Sehun and Kyungsoo’s home, which is basically just like Jongin’s. Heavy brick walls, crumbling in places, but still steady. Broken windows, so the wind blows right through them-good on warm summer nights, but not for when winter comes. Builders haven’t reached the houses this far away from the community center yet. The tile floors are cracked, and a few straggly weeds are peeking through somehow. The ceiling is caving in on one side. The two bed mats are pushed up against the walls farthest from it, near the stairs that look unsafe to climb. Jongin has unusable stairs in his house, too. Plus there’s mold everywhere.
“Well, this is it,” Sehun says, smiling a small, dry smile. “That bed’s mine, and that one’s Kyungsoo’s. Not that we ever sleep at the same time anymore. We used to share a bed when he did-it was warmer. I mean, not that it needed to be warm, because it’s hot at night. But we did it anyway.” He shrugs, blushing again. “Anyway, I sleep alone now.”
“You don’t like it?” Jongin asks.
“Well. It’s just that I was used to sleeping with someone else, that’s all.” Sehun shrugs again.
“I get it,” Jongin says. “We’re very tactile in Delta. I don’t like having my own house.”
“You can sleep here if you want,” Sehun blurts, then looks more embarrassed than ever. “Well. I’m just saying. Kyungsoo doesn’t even get back until 5 in the morning, anyway. And he can just get into bed with me, or whatever. I’m just saying. If you’re lonely or something.”
Jongin stares at him, then shrugs. Sehun doesn’t pursue it.
Eventually, Sehun gets around to asking about Jongin’s job as a sorcerer (not that he knows the difference between a sorcerer and a conjurer, until Jongin tells him). Jongin had been waiting for these questions. He figures, if Sehun wants him for anything, it’s information. He called magic cool once. Maybe he’s just curious.
Or planning something.
Jongin tells him all the stuff he told Minseok, on the first day. All the basics about energy and transforming it. Sehun stares at him, enraptured, while he explains it. He asks questions, too. About what energies feel like and what his is like and what Kyungsoo’s is like. Jongin is embarrassed about how well he knows them. He could pick them out of a crowd, probably. A small crowd.
“There are so many kinds of energy,” Sehun says, awed. “Can you, like, sense a body of water from far away? Can you feel a person walking toward you?”
Jongin hums, pursing his lips. No one’s ever asked him these questions before, so he’s never thought about the answers. “It depends on how far away the source is,” he says eventually. “And how hard I’m concentrating. And how strong the energy is. I felt the attack on the community a couple weeks ago. When. Yeah.” Pain stabs at his chest.
“Did you really? What did it feel like?”
“Bad energies feel stronger than good ones,” Jongin admits. “To me, at least, I don’t know about other people. I just felt...bad feelings. Anger. And pain. The stronger the feeling, and the more of it there is, the farther away I can feel it.”
Sehun nods, looking impressed. “That’s so cool,” he says. “Magic is so cool.”
Jongin can’t help it; he smiles, feels warm inside. No one ever tells him that. It makes him suspicious, too. No one ever tells him that.
“Minseok and I are getting better,” he says, maybe a little eager to show off. “We’re working on it really hard. I’m getting better at control, and Minseok is getting better at...conjuring. I don’t understand that part so well. It’s something you just...feel. But I think he’s starting to get the hang of it.”
“Have you healed anything yet?” Sehun asks.
Jongin frowns. “It’s hard to tell. It’s not like the plants suddenly shoot out of the ground. They’re just supposed to grow faster. And we don’t quite know what it’s supposed to feel like when we do it right. We were supposed to have mentors.”
“Right.” Sehun goes somber again. “Well, good luck.”
“Thank you.” Jongin smiles a little.
But when he goes to bed that evening, he’s worried again.
What does Sehun want from him?
“Saw you had a hot date last night,” Minseok teases him the next day as they rest in between practice runs. “Picked up a cutie, huh?”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Jongin grouches. He’s tired, and his limbs are stiff, and he’s in no mood for Minseok’s antagonizing today.
“Don’t know the kid well, but I mean. If he’s interested in you, he might be a little desperate.” Minseok’s eyebrows quirk.
Jongin sighs. “Let’s just try this again.” They’re sitting a few meters away from where a row of peas are climbing up a trellis, looking droopy and sad.
“Have I hit a nerve, Nini baby?” Minseok jostles him a little.
“Shut up. Let’s practice.” Jongin cracks his knuckles, closes his eyes.
“What if I wasn’t done resting?”
“Then finish,” Jongin says, breathing out, drawing the energy towards him, into his bones. Slow, steady. Not a rush. Just a stream.
“Who’s the older one here?” Minseok asks, pushing back. “I wanted to keep resting.”
“Too bad,” Jongin grumps, pushing harder. He breaks through Minseok’s feeble walls; the elder wasn’t trying that hard anyway. But now Jongin’s already pushing-too fast, too hard.
“Ah, fuck, slow up. That’s way too much.”
“Then do something with it,” Jongin says, trying to keep his cool, to reign it in.
“Maybe if you hadn’t been so cranky-” Minseok hisses. “Fuck, shit.”
“Then do something with it,” Jongin repeats, more angrily. He’s trying so hard to get a good grip on the energy flowing through their connection, but it feels like the burn of a rope as it pulls through your hands, the wrench of your shoulders as you try to hold onto something being yanked out of your hold. It hurts, and it makes him more frustrated than anything.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Minseok asks, grinding his teeth together.
“Just change it,” Jongin presses, settling on a pace he can manage-it’s definitely pushing Minseok’s limits, but it’s the best he can do.
“Ow, ow, owowowowow-”
“Change it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Then do it.”
“Why don’t you, you fucking-” And then, in a moment of sudden brilliance, a sharp spike of energy zings through Jongin, out through the ground where Jongin hastily directs it. It feels like the crack of lightning that had made the ground explode when Q-16 attacked, but the energy is different, lighter, clearer.
Jongin opens his eyes. The peas are dotted with tiny white flowers.
Everything is quiet for a few seconds, and then Minseok whoops. “Hell yeah!” he yells, right in Jongin’s ear. “Hell yeah, we did that!”
Jongin gapes. “We did that?”
“I don’t know how we fucking did it, but we did!” Minseok is grinning, beaming in Jongin’s face. He tackles Jongin to the ground, too hard, and rubs his knuckles against Jongin’s scalp. Jongin thinks it’s meant to be fond, maybe.
“I can’t believe it.” Jongin has to laugh. “We really did it?”
“We sure as hell did something.” Minseok squeezes Jongin around the shoulders, rolls over him, elbows digging into Jongin’s gut.
“I nearly drained the whole energy pocket,” Jongin admits, sweating. There’s barely a trickle left under the garden. “That’s probably really bad.”
“So? We’re working on it, Jongin. We’re getting somewhere.” Minseok laughs. “We’re fucking wizards.”
Jongin grins, staring at the peas, the flowers. “Yeah,” he says. “We are.”
*****
NEXT>>
A/N: Find me on twitter, tumblr, and ask.fm!
See a handy-dandy character profile cheat sheet for this chapter here!
aka post-apocalypse au, aka painfic
Pairings:[Spoiler (click to open)]Baekxing, Xiuhan, Chansoo (+Chanyeol/Plant)
Genre: post-apocalypse, fantasy, drama, romance
Rating: R
Length: 137K total
Warnings: mature themes, violence/injury, some possibly disturbing imagery, threat of death, poor mental health, very brief mentions of suicidal ideation(?), sad times
Summary: Over a century after meteors destroyed Earth, making the surface uninhabitable, communities are returning from their bunkers and attempting to recolonize the planet. But resources are scarce, tensions are high, and neighbouring communities X-22 and Q-16 are fighting tooth and nail over the Valley, a rare patch of fertile land. Add to that a controversial group of humans with special abilities, and people will start to realize it's not the coming winter that's humanity's biggest obstacle-it's humanity itself. But that doesn't mean hope doesn't exist.
Chapter links: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
Character cheat sheet for Chapter 7 here
*****
It takes Baekhyun over a week, in his confused and disoriented state, to realize something is wrong. Time is passing-days-he doesn’t know how many but he knows it’s been several-and none of his friends have come by to visit him.
He wonders why for hours, he thinks, until Liyin comes in to check on him, patting his clammy skin with a damp cloth and asking him how he’s feeling.
He answers her questions as best as he can, still struggling with speaking and forming coherent sentences, and then he side-eyes the paranormals on the other side of the room as he says, “Liyin? Are people not allowed to...visit me?”
His nurse gives him a strange look. “No, they can. Your mother has been by, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He frowns. “Then where’s...Chanyeol?”
Liyin’s face falls immediately, and Baekhyun feels dread crawl up his spine. “Baekhyun, he...don’t you remember?”
Fear clutches at his stomach, and he wants to throw up. “Tell me,” he croaks.
“He’s gone,” she says quietly, eyes wide.
Baekhyun sees Yixing’s face crumple in the background. And then he closes his eyes and sobs.
Liyin’s explanation of what happened, once Baekhyun has recovered enough from his sudden overwhelming waves of grief to hear it, sparks his memory a little. Usually, Baekhyun would have been ecstatic. He’s had a few short bursts of remembering in the past couple days, a few of the multitudinal, enormous holes in his memory filling themselves in, and it had been exciting. But this is not the way he wants to remember things. If it takes this much pain, and this much anguish, just to remember the situation surrounding his best friend’s disappearance and possible death, then god, leave him in the dark.
“Your other friend, Yifan?” Liyin says carefully. “He and his friend Luhan disappeared the following night. Not in battle or anything. I heard he was hoping to run a rescue mission, against orders.”
Baekhyun nods numbly. He remembers that, sort of, now that she’s mentioned it. It only makes him feel marginally better.
He forgot his own best friend’s death.
Talking about Chanyeol does, however, spur one important memory of his, and he nearly tries to bolt upright in his bed when it registers-which wouldn’t have worked regardless, but that’s not the point. He gasps, flapping his hand over his aching chest, and wheezes, “Oh, god, the plant. I’m s’pposed to...his plant.”
“What?” Joonmyun says flatly from the corner. Liyin just looks concerned.
“Chanyeol has a plant.” Baekhyun struggles to find the right words, to make himself understood, and it’s never felt so important until now. He nearly screams with frustration. “In his...his...workshop. By the, the window. Okay? Bring it to me.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Liyin says, eyebrows furrowed. “I can do that.”
Baekhyun tries his best not to panic while he waits for her return. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the little potted plant was watered, but he hopes to god he’s not too late. If that fucking thing is dead-the last thing he has left of Chanyeol, the last request given to him by Yifan before he too disappeared-Baekhyun will never be able to forgive himself. He doesn’t know what he’ll do.
Liyin returns ten minutes later, and Baekhyun nearly sobs with relief. The plant is a little droopy, a little wilted, but Baekhyun knows it’s not beyond saving. “Thank you,” he says, swallowing hard.
“I’ll put it on the windowsill, love,” Liyin says gently, smiling at him in reassurance as she settles it in place.
“You need to...water it,” Baekhyun tells her, still trembling with the force of his relief-or maybe that’s the hypoxic tremors.
“Of course,” Liyin says, and dumps Baekhyun’s own cup of water into the soil. Baekhyun doesn’t mind at all.
Yixing steps forward suddenly-Baekhyun had forgotten he was still in the room. “We can give it a small boost, if you’d like,” he says gently. “It’s what we’re best at.”
Baekhyun stares at him, then at Joonmyun behind him. The latter looks unhappy, as usual, but he does offer, “It’s a strong plant, in case you were worried. Impressive, actually, how much energy is stored inside it. Any idea what kind it is?”
Baekhyun shakes his head. He doesn’t even think Chanyeol knew.
“Joon?” Yixing asks, imploring.
“Yeah, fine, we’ll boost the plant,” Joonmyun mutters.
“Is it...safe?” Baekhyun interrupts, nervousness spiking through him. “For the plant.”
Yixing nods, smiling reassuringly. “We’ve done this hundreds of times. You won’t even notice a difference, but it’ll thrive more.”
“Okay,” Baekhyun says quietly.
The pair goes silent, concentrating, and a few seconds later, they’re done. Baekhyun does not, indeed, notice any difference. He tries to convince himself the plant’s leaves look a little perkier, though.
“Thank you,” he says, not taking his eyes off the green leaves that greedily soak up sunlight.
“Of course,” Yixing says, now looking tired, and Joonmyun grunts.
They leave a few minutes later to rest in the other room, but Liyin stays, sitting by Baekhyun’s raised bed and talking to him quietly, idly. It’s obvious that she’s constantly testing his memory-asking questions about something someone said earlier, prompting Baekhyun to repeat a response again a few minutes after he said it. It’s tiring, especially when Baekhyun fails the tests. And it’s depressing.
“I used to have friends,” he says quietly, staring at the window. “Now I just have...a plant. God.”
Liyin looks at him for a long moment, then says, “Honey, I think you need a new friend.”
“What, to...replace my old ones?” Baekhyun snaps, working himself into righteous annoyance in a split second. Liyin had warned him that he may experience mood swings post brain trauma. He hates that as much as everything else-not being in control of himself.
“Of course not,” his nurse says soothingly. “But you’re lonely. You were right, earlier, about no one visiting you. You need someone to talk to, other than me.”
“Yixing talks to me,” Baekhyun mutters. Not that he can really appreciate that. His father’s been drilling it into his brain for months that paranormals can’t be trusted-it’s one of the few things he remembers clearly.
“I know, and that’s great. But you need someone you can share with. I think it’ll help the healing process, don’t you? Being able to talk through your memories in a relaxed setting, with a friend.” Liyin purses her lips. “Do you have anyone you can talk to like that?”
Baekhyun grits his teeth, shakes his head. “No. They’re all...gone.”
“Can you think of someone else?” Liyin presses. “A childhood friend, someone you work with?”
Baekhyun shakes his head again. He wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing his memories with someone he knows, someone that knows everyone. Q-16 is a web of interconnected relationships-if he tells one person something, the whole community will know within the day. It’s simply how they operate. They don’t really keep secrets.
Well, no one but Baekhyun.
Liyin sighs. “Keep thinking, okay? I’m asking as your healer. This would be good for you, Baekhyun. I know you’ve lost a lot recently. But in times of need, a friend can go a long way. Humans rely on each other.”
Baekhyun huffs out a short breath. “There’s no one in Q-16-” He pauses, blinks. A new memory tugs at his mind, prompted by the name of his community. He grasps at it, tries to hold onto the connection his faulty mind is making.
“Well, let me know if you think of any,” Liyin says, standing to leave.
“Wait,” Baekhyun says, eyes closed, brows furrowed. “There’s an...allied group, right? That joined?”
“Q-17?” Liyin asks uncertainly.
“Yes.” Baekhyun’s eyes snap open. “Luhan had a friend. A Builder.”
Liyin hums thoughtfully. “A Builder? Jongdae?”
Recognition flickers in Baekhyun’s brain. “Is he still here?”
“Yes, of course.” Liyin smiles slightly. “He gets small injuries often, I seem to treat him more than most.”
Baekhyun wants to grin in triumph. Instead, he just says, “I want him.”
“Oh. Well. I’ll let him know. Are you friends?”
Baekhyun shakes his head slightly. “We could be, though.”
Liyin chuckles softly. “Alright. It’s good to hear you being optimistic, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun isn’t even listening to her anymore. This Jongdae guy is perfect. He doesn’t know Baekhyun, doesn’t know Baekhyun’s past, doesn’t know what he’s like. He didn’t grow up with them, he doesn’t have connections, doesn’t feel obligated to gossip about everything anyone tells him. He’s separate from the group, he’s isolated.
Maybe he can keep the secrets Baekhyun needs to let out.
He meets Jongdae the next day-he’s seen him around before, but he’s never actually talked to Luhan’s Builder friend before. He seems like he’s about Baekhyun’s age, with an open, curious face. The kind of face that makes you think he could be anyone’s friend. He looks confused, of course, when he walks into Baekhyun’s room. Baekhyun doesn’t blame him.
“You...wanted me?” he asks, eyebrows quirked as he looks Baekhyun over.
Baekhyun rubs at his eyes as furiously as his weak, trembling hands allow. Liyin had just left and let Jongdae in after her. “Sorry. Physical...therapy. Hurts like...hell.”
Jongdae just nods. “You look like hell.”
Baekhyun lets out a short, wheezy laugh. “No one ever says that...to me.”
Jongdae grins. “They’re all lying, then.”
“I know.” Baekhyun grins back.
He made a good choice.
“So, what do you need me for?” Jongdae asks. “Liyin said you need a friend, but I’m getting the feeling that’s not all.”
Baekhyun tries out a shrug, and decides he won’t be doing that again anytime soon. “Well, she’s right.”
“But?”
Jongdae is smart. “There’s a bit...more to it than that. I need a...recovery buddy,” Baekhyun admits.
“Go on.” He looks interested.
Baekhyun looks around the room. “Are those paranormals awake?”
Jongdae lifts his eyebrows, then sidles into the connected room and takes a peek. “Out cold,” he reports.
“Sit down.” Baekhyun gestures weakly at the chair next to his bed, slightly lower than his raised bed frame (to keep him off the cold floor-most people’s bed mats are directly on the ground). He frowns as his hands twitch uncontrollably.
Jongdae does, resting his chin on his hands attentively. “All ears.”
Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “My memory...is shit.”
“Yeah? Mine’s not great either.”
“No, my memory is...I lost a bunch. A lot. And I had...a lot to lose.”
“You’re not that old.”
Baekhyun gives Jongdae a steady look. “Imagine if you had...all your memories. All of them. Every day. Every...detail. You just...remembered. They’d...pile up, right?”
Jongdae’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “I’m assuming you’re not just speaking hypothetically?”
Baekhyun shakes his head. “You can’t tell...anyone about this. Okay? If you do-”
“I’ll be murdered?” Jongdae asks, looking amused.
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Baekhyun says, tilting his chin up to meet his challenging look.
“Yikes.” Jongdae sticks out his tongue. “Not that I have anyone to tell, anyway.”
“Good.” Baekhyun smiles. “I have a...a...superior. Memory.” Damn, he can’t remember the word for the life of him. Ironic. “If you tell it to me once, I remember it forever. I remember...dates. Numbers. Names. Facts. Whatever they...tell me. I’m an...encyclo...encyc…”
“Encyclopedia?” Jongdae prompts.
Baekhyun offers a small, humorless smile. “Thank you.”
“But since the explosion...?” Jongin tilts his head curiously.
“Gone,” Baekhyun says, wincing as the grief of it hits him anew. “A lot of them.”
“Ouch,” Jongdae says with a mirroring wince of his own.
“And some of them are…” He huffs. “Important.”
“Important how?”
Baekhyun gingerly shakes his head. “People...rely on me to remember things. Big things. But I’ve...forgotten.”
“Cryptic,” Jongdae says.
“Yeah. Well.” Baekhyun sniffs. “Can’t tell you things I’ve forgotten.”
Jongdae chuckles, nodding his agreement. “Alright. Fair enough.”
Baekhyun laughs as well, a soft cough of air, and he looks away, to his window. To the plant on the sill, quivering slightly in the breeze. It looks so frail, with its thin stalks and droopy leaves. Like Baekhyun.
“Baekhyun?” Jongdae prompts.
“Hm?” Baekhyun blinks at him. “What?”
“Were you going to...finish filling me in on why you need me?”
Baekhyun stares at him, long and hard. “What are you doing here?”
Jongdae gapes at him. “Are you messing with me?”
A cold rush of fear fills Baekhyun’s gut. He swallows hard, afraid he’ll throw up. “Did I...forget again?” he whispers.
Jongdae just keeps staring. “Do you...know who I am?”
Baekhyun squints, focuses hard. “Jongdae, right? That Builder from...Q-17? Luhan’s friend?”
“Yeah,” Jongdae breathes. “I’m here to be your recovery buddy.”
“Oh.” Baekhyun thinks that over. “That’s...a good idea. You’re...de...detached. From. The community.”
“What?”
“Don’t wanna tell...the community. Big...secret.” Baekhyun suddenly feels so, so tired. “You’ll do it?”
“What do I have to do?”
“Hmm. Be m’ friend.” Baekhyun’s speech gets more slurred the more exhausted he gets. “Be nice. Kay? But not too nice. ‘M not...a baby.”
“Alright,” Jongdae says, looking confused and concerned.
“Listen to my...memories. Talking...might help.”
“Okay,” Jongdae says, more confident this time.
“Lots of...holes. In m’ brain.” Baekhyun sniffs, tries not to get teary-eyed. God, no, the mood swings. “So much...blurriness. Was so clear. Before.”
“Yeah, it’s fine, we can work on that.”
“Everything is so hard.” Baekhyun exhales a sound that might be a sob. “Can’t remember...simple facts. Names. Numbers. And sometimes I forget...right away. Right after I’m told.” He muffles a whimper into the back of his hand. “Sorry. Just...scared. God, this is...shit.”
“Yeah,” Jongdae says quietly, his curly lips downturned, somber.
“My brain is the only reason I’m...important,” Baekhyun says, eyes burning. “Made me..special. Made me wanted.” He breathes out slowly, hates himself. “This is torture.”
“Yeah,” Jongdae says again. “That’s really shitty, Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun likes how he doesn’t say I’m sorry, or It’ll get better. He doesn’t make empty promises, doesn’t give meaningless condolences. He just agrees. It’s nice.
“So you’ll...help?” Baekhyun asks, probably sounding pathetic and desperate but currently not giving a fuck.
“Yeah, sure,” Jongdae says, offering a small grin. “I want to know important secrets, too.”
Baekhyun manages a smile in response. “Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Jongdae raises his hand, presumably to punch him in the shoulder, a friendly gesture, but then obviously thinks better of it and ruffles his disgustingly greasy hair instead. “See you around, okay?”
“Yeah,” Baekhyun whispers.
Several hours later, Baekhyun sees the plant on his windowsill and says, “Hey, where’s Chanyeol? That...fucker, hasn’t even come to visit me.”
The only two people in the room-Yixing and Joonmyun-freeze and stare at him. Baekhyun stares back. “What?”
It’s Yixing that finally speaks up, nervous and unsure. “Baekhyun...your friend Chanyeol is gone. Liyin told you earlier today.”
His meltdown is, Baekhyun assumes, not as terrible as it was the first two times. He doesn’t cry. He just lies there in his bed, feeling like a cold, sickening blackness is spreading through his whole body. Yixing sits next to him, holds his hands, says soft, soothing words, but Baekhyun feels like he’s a million miles away. He feels like he’s submerged, and everything else is muted and far away.
When everything clears again, Yixing is still at his bedside, even though it’s dark outside now, and he’s still holding Baekhyun’s hands. He’s asleep, forehead resting on the foam mat of his bed, and the sheet beneath his eyes is damp. Baekhyun would feel touched, he thinks, if he could feel anything.
He can’t forget Chanyeol. He can’t forget something this important. All that other stuff, those things he’s supposed to remember, he thinks he could live with forgetting that forever. But not this. He won’t forget this again.
He can’t.
And he’s going to need help.
***
At night, Chanyeol dreams.
Sometimes, of course, he’s not sure what’s all a dream and what is desperate wishful thinking. Sometimes he’s not sure if he’s awake and hallucinating or truly asleep or somewhere in between. He already tries so hard not to sleep-if he’s sleeping, he’s losing more time with Kyungsoo, more time talking to a real human being. But it’s inevitable. He has to be awake in time for morning meal-breakfast, they call it here-so by the end of the day, he’s exhausted beyond belief, after working long hours and dealing with the constant stress of his slowly healing injuries. In the end, he always falls asleep before he’s ready.
In sleep, Chanyeol’s friends join him. Sometimes they’re outside, sometimes they’re in Chanyeol’s new workshop-prison. Sometimes they’re in his home, in the room he shares with Baekhyun and Yifan. His friends smile at him, and talk to him. They tell him he doesn’t have to go back to that place. They talk about lots of things. Luhan tells him a funny story about his Builder friends, and Chanyeol cracks up laughing. Baekhyun tells him the fields are doing really well, Q-16 is eating well, they’re not going to starve this winter. Yifan tells him they finally won the Valley, and they don’t have to fight anymore. And they talk about simpler things. They discuss favourite meals. They talk about books they read as kids. Places they heard about but never dreamed of being able to visit. Toys they had back in the bunker, when things were easier, because they were young and didn’t know they couldn’t stay there.
The dream changes, and Yifan is rescuing Chanyeol from X-22. He’s breaking down the door, and he’s grinning. “Don’t worry,” he says, holding Chanyeol’s old blaster. “They’ll pay for what they did to you.”
Chanyeol is happy, but he’s worried, too. He feels torn. He hates X-22, because they took him away from his home, forced him to do things he didn’t want to do. But he doesn’t hate the people he’s met. Joohyun and Seulgi aren’t warm towards him, but they aren’t evil. He sees them talk sometimes, outside his workshop, and they smile at each other, they hold hands and laugh, they kiss each other quickly before trading shifts. And even Boa, the community leader, was not evil when Chanyeol met her. She reminded him of his mother. Strong, determined, unrelenting in the face of difficult decisions. And he doesn’t hate Kyungsoo. He could never hate Kyungsoo. Yifan means to kill them, to make them pay, but Chanyeol doesn’t want that. He hates the community, but not the people. Does that make sense? He tries to tell Yifan that, but Yifan doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why Chanyeol isn’t happy.
How can he ever understand what Chanyeol has learned here?
The dream changes again. Baekhyun is sitting in the cockpit of the Machine. He doesn’t understand that it’s meant to kill people. Maybe to kill his own community. He’s happy up there. He’s smiling at Chanyeol.
“It’s quiet without you,” he says. He’s just visiting. Chanyeol will be sad to see him go. “It’s too bad you can’t come back.”
“I will,” Chanyeol tells him. “I’ll come back soon.”
“I hope so,” Baekhyun says with a nod. He swings his legs. “How are you doing out here? You must be enjoying yourself. You get to fix a lot of things.”
“I’m lonely,” Chanyeol says. “It’s so lonely.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.”
“It’s so lonely,” he says again. “I want to go home so bad.”
“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says.
“I’m still fixing that puzzle box you gave me.”
“That’s good. It’s not done yet?”
“No, not done yet. I think I can do it eventually though. I’m not giving up.”
“I’m glad you have something to remember me by,” Baekhyun says, pleased.
“I’m glad, too,” Chanyeol says.
“I’m sorry you’re lonely,” Baekhyun tells him, sad again.
“I have Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol tells him.
“Who is that? Have I met him?”
“No, of course not. He’s from this community. He acts like a friend, even if he can’t be one.”
“Chanyeol, he’s an enemy.”
“I know, Baekhyun, but he’s also a friend. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t.”
Chanyeol doesn’t know how to explain to Baekhyun what he tried to tell Yifan before. How he hates the community but not the people. “He talks to me.”
“That doesn’t mean much.”
“But it does to me. And he knows it. He doesn’t have to talk to me.”
“Do you like him?”
Chanyeol is surprised by that question. “Yes,” he says. “He makes me laugh.”
“I like him, then.”
“I thought you said he’s an enemy.”
“Anyone who makes you laugh is no enemy of mine.” Baekhyun laughs. “I want to meet him.”
“I don’t think that’ll ever happen,” Chanyeol says. “Sorry.”
Baekhyun looks down at him, his eyes warm and sad. “We miss you,” he says. “I miss you.”
It hurts. Chanyeol thinks it’s unfair that it has to hurt. “Don’t say that.”
“Okay.” Baekhyun understands.
“Is someone taking care of my plant?” Chanyeol asks now. He needs to know.
“Yes, of course,” Baekhyun says, soothing. “It’ll be there when you come back.”
“That’s good. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Baekhyun says. “It’s growing. It’ll be bigger when you get back.”
“It there a flower? Or a fruit?” Chanyeol asks. He doesn’t know what his plant is supposed to look like.
“You’ll have to come look yourself,” Baekhyun says. Balls.
“I guess so.”
“How are you?” Baekhyun asks. His fingers curl around the edge of the cockpit floor where he sits on the edge. Familiar hands. Always cold, though.
“Sometimes good, sometimes bad,” Chanyeol answers honestly. “My leg hurts. But it’s getting better.”
“Do you think you’ll ever fix this machine?” Baekhyun asks, kicking his feet against the rusty stair.
“I don’t know. It’s really complex. It’s really old. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Will you fix it if you can, even though it’s dangerous?” Baekhyun asks.
“They’ll make me fix it,” Chanyeol says. “What if they stop feeding me? I’ll have to fix it.”
“But will you let them use it, Chanyeol? Will you let them use it after you’ve fixed it?”
Chanyeol understands what he means. He’s already thought about it. Chanyeol knows how to fix things, but he also knows how to break them. He knows how to make them destroy themselves. He could make it look like an accident, maybe. By that time, he might be gone already.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.”
“I wish you’d come back,” Baekhyun says with a smile. “It’s quiet without you.”
“Don’t leave me alone.” Chanyeol panics. Baekhyun is going to leave him. He’ll have nothing again. What if no one else comes to visit him?
“I’ll talk to you later, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun smiles wider. At least that’s the last image Chanyeol sees of him. Smiling.
The dream changes.
It’s dark now. Cold. It’s so cold, and Chanyeol’s on the concrete floor. He just has his blanket under him, and the cold seeps up through it, bites into his aching leg. Sometimes the cold feels good on it, but today it hurts.
Kyungsoo is there. Chanyeol feels so relieved. He’s not alone. They don’t say anything, but Kyungsoo smiles at him, and hands him a platter of food. Hot food, freshly cooked. Things Chanyeol hasn’t eaten in years and years. Mashed potatoes made from freeze-dried flakes, with gravy on top, the kind made from brown powder. Hot cocoa in a standard tin mug. That was just for his birthday. He thinks he was turning six. He doesn’t question why Kyungsoo has it. Maybe X-22 didn’t run out like Q-16 did.
It’s cold, and cold, and cold, but the food is so warm, and Kyungsoo is smiling. Chanyeol eats, and he feels safe, and taken care of. He doesn’t feel scared or alone. Kyungsoo laughs, even though Chanyeol didn’t say anything. It’s a silent laugh-Chanyeol’s never heard it in real life before. But it’s beautiful anyway.
Chanyeol finishes eating, and he’s still cold, and it’s still dark, and damp. He lies down on his blanket. Kyungsoo brings him another. He throws it over Chanyeol, warm and soft, and then he crawls right underneath with him, and he’s warm and soft, too. He talks to Chanyeol-quiet, unintelligible words. His breath tickles Chanyeol’s nose. Chanyeol doesn’t mind. He’s just happy he isn’t alone. He doesn’t like being alone all the time. He’s so glad Kyungsoo is here, with him, talking to him, pressed up against him. Even if his breath tickles Chanyeol’s nose.
Chanyeol sneezes, and his eyes open.
It’s cold on the floor-even colder than it had been in his dream-and Kyungsoo isn’t there. He’d been there when Chanyeol fell asleep, but he’s gone now, and Chanyeol hates that. He can never stay awake long enough.
It’s raining outside. Raining hard, beating down on the roof of the shop. It drips through the ceiling in a couple places-drips onto the Machine, no wonder it’s rusted. It’s so cold. Wind blows in through the barred door. It’s barely morning; he must have just missed Kyungsoo. Joohyun is here now, standing just inside the door to keep out of the rain, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looks miserable.
Chanyeol has another blanket, too, like he had in the dream. He didn’t have it when he fell asleep. Kyungsoo must have brought it after all.
But he didn’t crawl underneath it with Chanyeol. He’s not dumb enough to think that.
He sighs, groans. He feels stiff and uncomfortable, and his nose is running. He feels more alone than ever. He wants to fall back asleep, but he knows he won’t. It’s time to get up for the day, to start working. He has to make sure the leaks aren’t ruining his papers. He has to keep going.
At least Baekhyun will be happy about the rain. The fields needed it.
***
After the rain, the earth springs to life around X-22-and Jongin, already so sensitive to these things, hadn’t thought it was all that lacking in the first place. Now, the ground is teeming with energy. The full day of rain had been overwhelming for him. So much energy surrounding him, sinking into the soil, sinking into his hair and skin. But it’s a lot better now, a lot more steady. It feels so alive. It’s too much, but almost in a good way. He knows the earth is healing.
He and Minseok have been practicing a lot. Every single day, again and again and again. They practice until they’re exhausted, and then they rest and try again. Minseok pushes himself hard, and he pushes Jongin hard. He teases and he pushes and he tries to rile Jongin up, until they’re both breathing hard and aching all over. And Minseok is grinning. And Jongin always has to grin, too, even when he’s annoyed and frustrated. Minseok is good at that.
But Minseok can’t be with him all the time-doesn’t want to be, surely-so Jongin is alone. No one else is interested in talking to him. The majority of X-22 continues to be scared of him or to look down on him, and the rest just give him a wide berth. Jongin is used to that, by now. He’s still not used to living without Joonmyun and Yixing-he’s not sure if he’ll ever be used to that, if it’ll ever hurt less-but he’s used to everyone else avoiding him.
Except Sehun. The younger brother. Jongin still...has no idea what’s going on there. He was confused when the brothers approached him, and he’s confused now, days later. After the elder, Kyungsoo, left to work, Sehun remained, but he was very quiet. Shy, maybe, or possibly just unsure why he was there, too. But he asked Jongin a few questions-his age, what bunker he came from, what he was doing in X-22. Sehun answered his own questions, too. Eighteen, like Jongin. Bunker West X-22, obviously. Ex-soldier, now Grower.
“I see you in the fields sometimes,” Sehun told him, all mumbly and soft, eyes averted. “With Minseok.”
“I work there,” Jongin answered, still waiting for Sehun to tell him what he was really after. But it never came.
“Yeah,” Sehun said instead. “You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”
They’d stayed at the table until people came to shoo them away so they could clean up the community center, not really talking much, just awkwardly sitting in each other’s presence. It had been uncomfortable, and afterwards Sehun just said, “I’ll see you later,” and walked away. Jongin went home and spent the evening alone, as usual. Not really expecting Sehun to ever talk to him again.
But he was back the next day, and the next. Jongin thinks maybe Kyungsoo is forcing him to, but Sehun doesn’t look like he resists that much. He just slumps into the seat across from Jongin with his tray of food and eats and occasionally asks questions or makes comments. “Who’s that guy Minseok is always with?” he asked one time. “He’s new.”
“I don’t know,” Jongin said, truthfully. “He doesn’t talk about him.”
“He doesn’t? But family units share everything.”
“He’s not in my family unit.”
“Minseok’s not?” Sehun looked confused. “Then who is?”
“No one,” Jongin told him. “It’s just me now.”
“Oh.” Sehun looked really...sad about that. Not that Jongin wasn’t-isn’t-sad about it, too, but he doesn’t know why Sehun would care. “In my family unit it’s me and Kyungsoo now.”
“Now?” Jongin asked, even though he usually doesn’t ask questions.
“Well, yeah. For a long time it was me and Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo’s parents-well, my parents, too, I guess. Mine died during and after the plague.” Sehun blushed, like it was embarrassing. “So I joined Kyungsoo’s family unit. And then when Kyungsoo was old enough, he moved out, and was in a family unit with some other older guys. So we were still brothers, I guess, but not unit brothers. But now I’m old enough to move out, so we live together, just us two. It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” Jongin said. Sehun and Kyungsoo match up well. Their energies don’t match, the way Jongin and Minseok’s do, but they seem to be complementary. Their personalities, too.
He doesn’t match up very well with Jongin. Frequency is similar, but strength is completely different. Not that energies have to match or be complementary for a personal connection to form between two people. But he thinks about it a lot anyway.
Jongin’s busy after the rainfall, and he figures Sehun probably is, too. He still visits Jongin every day at supper, and at lunch too if they end up eating at the same time. Minseok always looks at them, eyebrows dancing, and Jongin always wants to punch him for that. That’s probably why Minseok does it. He’s always trying to get Jongin to punch him.
They never spend time together in the evenings, though, like Kyungsoo had suggested, until maybe a week after the rain. Jongin is eating supper, sore and tired and a little weak from his and Minseok’s practice session, and Sehun is sitting across from him, eating his own, and suddenly Sehun says, “Do you want to see my house?”
“What?”
Sehun is all pink in the face again. He gets embarrassed about the weirdest things. Jongin realizes he never told Sehun that his parents died in the plague, too. “I don’t know. I was just wondering if you wanted to see my house.”
“Why would I want to?” Jongin asks. “I’ve seen your house before. It’s right near mine.”
“I know, but you haven’t seen the inside.” Sehun shrugs. “You don’t have to. I was just wondering.”
Jongin thinks about it. He’ll be alone all evening if he says no. Which is something he’s getting used to. But maybe...maybe a change would be nice, even though he still doesn’t understand why Sehun is asking. He tries to convince himself it’s not some kind of trap. Kyungsoo seemed nice. He wouldn’t let his younger brother do something awful to Jongin, right? “Sure,” he says eventually, giving his own shrug. “I guess.”
Sehun lights up a little, which is...nice. No one ever lights up around Jongin.
They go to Sehun and Kyungsoo’s home, which is basically just like Jongin’s. Heavy brick walls, crumbling in places, but still steady. Broken windows, so the wind blows right through them-good on warm summer nights, but not for when winter comes. Builders haven’t reached the houses this far away from the community center yet. The tile floors are cracked, and a few straggly weeds are peeking through somehow. The ceiling is caving in on one side. The two bed mats are pushed up against the walls farthest from it, near the stairs that look unsafe to climb. Jongin has unusable stairs in his house, too. Plus there’s mold everywhere.
“Well, this is it,” Sehun says, smiling a small, dry smile. “That bed’s mine, and that one’s Kyungsoo’s. Not that we ever sleep at the same time anymore. We used to share a bed when he did-it was warmer. I mean, not that it needed to be warm, because it’s hot at night. But we did it anyway.” He shrugs, blushing again. “Anyway, I sleep alone now.”
“You don’t like it?” Jongin asks.
“Well. It’s just that I was used to sleeping with someone else, that’s all.” Sehun shrugs again.
“I get it,” Jongin says. “We’re very tactile in Delta. I don’t like having my own house.”
“You can sleep here if you want,” Sehun blurts, then looks more embarrassed than ever. “Well. I’m just saying. Kyungsoo doesn’t even get back until 5 in the morning, anyway. And he can just get into bed with me, or whatever. I’m just saying. If you’re lonely or something.”
Jongin stares at him, then shrugs. Sehun doesn’t pursue it.
Eventually, Sehun gets around to asking about Jongin’s job as a sorcerer (not that he knows the difference between a sorcerer and a conjurer, until Jongin tells him). Jongin had been waiting for these questions. He figures, if Sehun wants him for anything, it’s information. He called magic cool once. Maybe he’s just curious.
Or planning something.
Jongin tells him all the stuff he told Minseok, on the first day. All the basics about energy and transforming it. Sehun stares at him, enraptured, while he explains it. He asks questions, too. About what energies feel like and what his is like and what Kyungsoo’s is like. Jongin is embarrassed about how well he knows them. He could pick them out of a crowd, probably. A small crowd.
“There are so many kinds of energy,” Sehun says, awed. “Can you, like, sense a body of water from far away? Can you feel a person walking toward you?”
Jongin hums, pursing his lips. No one’s ever asked him these questions before, so he’s never thought about the answers. “It depends on how far away the source is,” he says eventually. “And how hard I’m concentrating. And how strong the energy is. I felt the attack on the community a couple weeks ago. When. Yeah.” Pain stabs at his chest.
“Did you really? What did it feel like?”
“Bad energies feel stronger than good ones,” Jongin admits. “To me, at least, I don’t know about other people. I just felt...bad feelings. Anger. And pain. The stronger the feeling, and the more of it there is, the farther away I can feel it.”
Sehun nods, looking impressed. “That’s so cool,” he says. “Magic is so cool.”
Jongin can’t help it; he smiles, feels warm inside. No one ever tells him that. It makes him suspicious, too. No one ever tells him that.
“Minseok and I are getting better,” he says, maybe a little eager to show off. “We’re working on it really hard. I’m getting better at control, and Minseok is getting better at...conjuring. I don’t understand that part so well. It’s something you just...feel. But I think he’s starting to get the hang of it.”
“Have you healed anything yet?” Sehun asks.
Jongin frowns. “It’s hard to tell. It’s not like the plants suddenly shoot out of the ground. They’re just supposed to grow faster. And we don’t quite know what it’s supposed to feel like when we do it right. We were supposed to have mentors.”
“Right.” Sehun goes somber again. “Well, good luck.”
“Thank you.” Jongin smiles a little.
But when he goes to bed that evening, he’s worried again.
What does Sehun want from him?
“Saw you had a hot date last night,” Minseok teases him the next day as they rest in between practice runs. “Picked up a cutie, huh?”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Jongin grouches. He’s tired, and his limbs are stiff, and he’s in no mood for Minseok’s antagonizing today.
“Don’t know the kid well, but I mean. If he’s interested in you, he might be a little desperate.” Minseok’s eyebrows quirk.
Jongin sighs. “Let’s just try this again.” They’re sitting a few meters away from where a row of peas are climbing up a trellis, looking droopy and sad.
“Have I hit a nerve, Nini baby?” Minseok jostles him a little.
“Shut up. Let’s practice.” Jongin cracks his knuckles, closes his eyes.
“What if I wasn’t done resting?”
“Then finish,” Jongin says, breathing out, drawing the energy towards him, into his bones. Slow, steady. Not a rush. Just a stream.
“Who’s the older one here?” Minseok asks, pushing back. “I wanted to keep resting.”
“Too bad,” Jongin grumps, pushing harder. He breaks through Minseok’s feeble walls; the elder wasn’t trying that hard anyway. But now Jongin’s already pushing-too fast, too hard.
“Ah, fuck, slow up. That’s way too much.”
“Then do something with it,” Jongin says, trying to keep his cool, to reign it in.
“Maybe if you hadn’t been so cranky-” Minseok hisses. “Fuck, shit.”
“Then do something with it,” Jongin repeats, more angrily. He’s trying so hard to get a good grip on the energy flowing through their connection, but it feels like the burn of a rope as it pulls through your hands, the wrench of your shoulders as you try to hold onto something being yanked out of your hold. It hurts, and it makes him more frustrated than anything.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Minseok asks, grinding his teeth together.
“Just change it,” Jongin presses, settling on a pace he can manage-it’s definitely pushing Minseok’s limits, but it’s the best he can do.
“Ow, ow, owowowowow-”
“Change it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Then do it.”
“Why don’t you, you fucking-” And then, in a moment of sudden brilliance, a sharp spike of energy zings through Jongin, out through the ground where Jongin hastily directs it. It feels like the crack of lightning that had made the ground explode when Q-16 attacked, but the energy is different, lighter, clearer.
Jongin opens his eyes. The peas are dotted with tiny white flowers.
Everything is quiet for a few seconds, and then Minseok whoops. “Hell yeah!” he yells, right in Jongin’s ear. “Hell yeah, we did that!”
Jongin gapes. “We did that?”
“I don’t know how we fucking did it, but we did!” Minseok is grinning, beaming in Jongin’s face. He tackles Jongin to the ground, too hard, and rubs his knuckles against Jongin’s scalp. Jongin thinks it’s meant to be fond, maybe.
“I can’t believe it.” Jongin has to laugh. “We really did it?”
“We sure as hell did something.” Minseok squeezes Jongin around the shoulders, rolls over him, elbows digging into Jongin’s gut.
“I nearly drained the whole energy pocket,” Jongin admits, sweating. There’s barely a trickle left under the garden. “That’s probably really bad.”
“So? We’re working on it, Jongin. We’re getting somewhere.” Minseok laughs. “We’re fucking wizards.”
Jongin grins, staring at the peas, the flowers. “Yeah,” he says. “We are.”
*****
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