Midnight Season (II)

[bbyah]

Title: The Midnight Season
Rating: PG-13 (some medical gore)
Pairing: Homin
Genre: AU, Pseudo-Victorian Era
Summary: There's nothing pretty about this love story. A sickness is spreading through the city, in more ways than one. It's a bad season for growing.



prev

By some kind of miracle, they arrive in the city without incident or company. Yunho backs the truck into a dark alley a few blocks from the morgue some hours before sunrise. Changmin hops out and strides to the back of the truck, pulling the latch and climbing up into the hold. Yunho pops his head around the corner as Changmin checks out the bins of laundry.

“What are you looking for?” Yunho asks, brow furrowed.

Changmin sorts through a box of laundered shirts.

“Some fresh clothes that aren’t quite as...conspicuous,” he explains, holding up a couple of button downs, probably from the guards. “We can get something better later, but these will do for now. Catch.”

He tosses a shirt to Yunho, who catches it and unbuttons his jumpsuit. Changmin turns away out of modesty and works on his own buttons, letting the top half of the jumpsuit hang down. He ties the sleeves in a knot low on his waist, and pulls a shirt on.

Now, at the very least, they might be mistaken for factory workers if anyone spots them.

Changmin tucks his shirt in and looks back to Yunho.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Yunho says, nodding, and they jump to the asphalt.

They make their way to the morgue quickly, splashing through dirty puddles and thick grey fog.

Yunho is looking more disenchanted by the minute. “This is the city? I imagined it to be a little more...”

“Clean?” Changmin offers.

Yunho frowns. “Uh, exciting, I guess...”

“First visit here, I'm assuming. These aren't exactly business hours. Most normal people are asleep in their beds. There are probably some places still open, but they’re generally not places you would want to be,” Changmin says. Yunho exudes a sort of freshness Changmin hesitates to cloud with his big city cynicism.

“Where are you from?” he asks, off-handed as they scurry down the back stairs to the morgue’s basement door. He catches Yunho's shoulder before he slips on a slick step and bashes his brains out.

“Thanks,” Yunho says. “I’m from a town further south. Tiny place in the creeks, don’t expect you to know of it.”

Changmin turns to the door, frowning at it. His own set of keys are floating in a police station somewhere, and he’s not quite sure of the best way to go about getting in. It's becoming very apparent that he hasn't thought this through nearly enough, and he's trying to stave off delayed panic when Yunho steps forward and moves his hand away.

“Here, let me.”

Changmin steps out of the way, and Yunho places the heel of his fist over the doorknob, before slamming it down and snapping the knob clean off.

Changmin nods. “Not bad,” he says with a shaky smile, before pushing the door open and stepping inside the dark morgue.

Yunho is close behind, and Changmin makes his way slowly to a desk lamp.

The dim light casts deep shadows, and Changmin stops to let his eyes adjust, only to find Yunho nearly on top of him, gaze darting around wildly.

“Don’t worry. This will be quick,” Changmin assures him, slipping out from where he’s sandwiched by Yunho and the desk. “Besides, I doubt they’ve even begun to calm the chaos at the prison. Are they organized?”

“Not really, the guards are some of the dimmest men I’ve had the pleasure to meet,” Yunho says as they hurry down a cramped hallway.

“Then their records are probably terrible. I wouldn’t be surprised if I wasn’t listed as a new inmate until tomorrow morning.”

If Yunho notices the nervous desperation in Changmin's tone, he does a good job of ignoring it. He just laughs. “It’s Friday, so probably not until Monday morning, honestly.”

Yunho’s got a nice voice. It’s twisty and kind of warm, tumbling through syllables with an energetic accent. Changmin enjoys Yunho’s pleasant rambling as they step into the mortician’s break lounge, and plucks his bag from a cubby. His leather bag is a familiar weight in his hand, finally clearing his head.

“And we’re good to get out of here,” Changmin informs Yunho after checking to make sure his notes and tool kit are in the bag. He stops short.

“One moment,” he says, “I need to leave a note for someone.”

Yunho scowls.

“What? Don’t, they’ll find it and know we’re in the city.”

Changmin pulls a notepad and a pen out of his bag, and shakes the pen to get the ink flowing.

“Don’t worry, I trust this person. I need someone to talk to the professor- warn him. He’ll know exactly what to do.”

He begins to write.

My Dearest Kyuhyun--

“What are you writing?” Yunho asks, peering over Changmin’s shoulder.

“Can’t you read?”

Yunho narrows his eyes. “Your writing’s awful! All tiny and complicated.”

Changmin sighs. “He’s my classmate who works here with me. He’s a good friend, and a brilliant medicinist. If I can work through anyone’s hands, it’ll be his.”

He continues writing, Yunho silent and watchful over his shoulder.

My Dearest Kyuhyun--

It’s so hard to be this far from you, my love.

Yunho takes a few seconds to work out what he’s written, then stares hard at Changmin’s face. Changmin manages to keep his flush minimal. “It’s so others won’t know it’s me who wrote it.”

It’s like I’ve been unexpectedly called away upon the advent of a disastrous epidemic.
I’ll need your help drafting a vaccine for my heartsickness.
A copy of some poems will come to you shortly, so please watch for them.
Is it true that the earliest symptoms are a softness and discoloration of the gum?
I will be in touch, but never soon enough, my prince.

Miss Chwang

“You sure he won’t just think some addled miss left it for him?” Yunho sounds skeptical.

“Not entirely,” Changmin says. He tears the paper out of the note pad and folds it, before walking over to Kyuhyun’s cubby. He pulls out a thick book and opens to a random page, slipping the paper in and replacing the book so that it juts out just a bit from the others jammed in the cubby.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. It occurs to him as they leave that Yunho is a little strange- he hasn’t left yet, despite a thousand opportunities to split ways and no real obligation to stay. Changmin’s running blind and full steam, and Yunho is running right alongside him. It’s interesting.

“Why are you still with me, by the way?” Changmin asks, stepping through the door as Yunho holds it open for him.

Yunho stops and looks at Changmin. “What?”

“Why are you still with me? It's only going to get worse from here. You could leave...you could run, if you want. They wouldn’t be able to find you unless you were careless.”

Yunho shrugs, scrunching up his face in apparent discomfort. They go up the stairs, falling into step when they emerge on the street. It’s still a few hours until dawn.

“Not sure, t’be honest. Just feel like...I need to keep an eye on you. In for a dime, in for a dollar, I guess. And where else am I gonna go? This is all your fault, you know,” Yunho says, not sounding at all sure of himself.

Changmin nods. It’s a good enough answer, and it is all his fault. They sweep down the streets towards Changmin’s place, keeping to the shadows until they stop in front of his apartments.

“Home sweet home,” Changmin says, tilting his head as he gazes up at the dreary brown building, streaked with black and ash.

Yunho follows his gaze up. “Well, it's a roof,” he offers.

“It beats living in the dorms with six other men,” Changmin says.

“I can imagine.”

They walk past the empty lobby, and through a rather dingy maze of hallways and staircases. The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat is Changmin’s least favorite aspect of his current residence, but Yunho seems unbothered.

Finally, they come to Changmin's apartment. Changmin reaches up on tip-toes and grabs his spare key from a hole in the molding.

Yunho hangs back like he’s been tricked.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe. I’m not going to kill you or anything,” Changmin says with a smirk.

Yunho leans close. “I can’t actually be sure of that, can I? You do prefer your guests a little less...lively.”

Changmin rolls his eyes so hard he gives himself a headache.

“I don’t just do it right in here-” a noise comes from one of the apartments. “This is probably not the best place to have this conversation. Please, after you,” Changmin says, unlocking the door and holding it open.

They scoot inside. Changmin sets his bag down and flicks the lights on. While Yunho wanders around his tiny studio, Changmin heads into the closet.

“Feel free to make yourself comfortable. We’re around the same size, so I’ll find some clothes you can change into,” he calls.

Yunho’s assent is muffled.

He pulls out some of his better clothes that would make even the prison guards doubt Yunho was their man. It's probably the last time he'll see any of it - he pushes the thought down immediately - so he lets himself have some fun. A sport jacket goes over his arm, along with a pair of black trousers and a trendy button down. He picks out a similar outfit for himself, and scoops up a pair of shoes.

When Changmin emerges from the closet, Yunho’s perched on the couch.

“I don’t know if all of these will fit, but they have some give,” Changmin says, setting the clothes down in front of Yunho.

Yunho nods with a gruff ‘thanks’. He holds up the shirt.

“You think I can wear this stuff? Feels expensive,” he says, skeptical.

Changmin smiles. “That’s the point. They won’t be searching for well-dressed men.”

“I’ll say,” Yunho mutters, standing up and beginning to pull his shirt off.

Changmin gets changed halfway in the closet. When he’s done, Yunho is standing with his back to Changmin, looking out the window. The clothes aren't a completely perfect fit, but their silhouette has completely changed him, and Changmin is almost taken aback.

“Wow. You look fantastic,” he says earnestly.

Yunho turns, and gives Changmin a once-over. “You’re not too bad yourself. This how you always dress?”

“Do you like it?” Changmin can’t help but tease a little.

“I could get used to it, I guess.” Yunho smiles at him again. Changmin needs to get used to that.

“Good to know. I’m going to pack a bag or two, then we need to get out of here. I don’t think our stay will be entirely pleasant if we stick around after this.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get rid of these-” Yunho scoops up the discarded pile of prison clothes. “And...where are we headed?”

“The graveyard. I have a bone to pick with someone.”

There’s silence. Changmin turns to see Yunho staring at him, lip slightly curled.

“Cripes- Jung, figuratively.”

Yunho shakes his head and pushes past Changmin to the door.

“Where should I take this?” Yunho asks, hefting the bundle in his hands.

“Incinerator on the ground floor. Meet you back at the truck?”

“Right.” The door shuts behind Yunho, and Changmin gets to work on gathering some supplies.

“‘A bone to pick’...” he murmurs, before chuckling. Then the humor hits him, and he laughs harder, doubling over and squeezing his eyes shut. Something knocks around loose in his heart, and he finds it’s impossible to stop. It takes several minutes before he can compose himself again, and a few laughs still escape him as he fans his unusually warm face.

A short time later, Changmin arrives at the truck. He jumps in the passenger side and Yunho starts the engine.

“Where to?” Yunho asks, pulling out of the alley.

“Go right, keep going for about ten minutes. Make a right at the park, then keep going until you hit the city cemetery.”

“So what’s this cemetery business? You got a grudge?”

“Mm, we’re going to see some...acquaintances of mine. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them colleagues, but I suppose you could say I met them through my side-job.”

Yunho wrinkles his nose and snorts. “They’re like you, then. Bodysnatchers.”

Changmin gazes out the window.

“Oh no. They’re not like me,” he murmurs.

“Mind explainin’?”

“There’s a few different types of people that get involved in the body trade. There’s the academics, fighting for the good of human advancement- yours truly. Generally agreeable, if not a little shifty. Then there’s the poverty-stricken, desperate and down on their luck. It can mean the difference between starving and surviving if you’re willing to get your hands a little bit dirty. Nice folks, they keep to themselves. And then...”

“And then,” Yunho prompts.

“Then there’s the others. The ones who live for the job, and they’re good at it. Resurrection-men. They do have their reasons - profit, personal beliefs, a misplaced sense of environmentalism...”

“And that’s who we’re gonna go see,” Yunho says. He runs a hand through his hair.

“We’re going to go see the best of them, or maybe the worst of them. I can never keep it all straight. Yoochun, Jaejoong, and Junsu. They work as a team.”

“You don’t sound fond.”

“They turned me in,” Changmin says tonelessly. It’s as good a time as ever to warm up his poker face.

Yunho rubs his chin.

“You want me to beat them down?” he asks.

Changmin hides his grin against his knuckles.

The ride is uneventful. Changmin knows they’ll have to get rid of the truck, since it’s a hot vehicle. He has an idea of how to get another one, but he’s not sure if it will work. He keeps it to himself, and runs through worst-case scenarios until the cemetery comes into view. They glide through the gates, and are close to the middle of the property when Changmin gestures for Yunho to stop.

“Quiet, here.”

He steps out of the truck and scans the cemetery. Yunho comes up beside him, silent. The only sound is a constant buzzing of insects in the bushes, a dull screech filling the air.

They walk slowly toward the headstones, Changmin squinting into the darkness to try and discern any distant points of light, or maybe the movement of figures.

Yunho hits his shoulder.

“There,” Yunho says under his breath, pointing to the left.

Sure enough, Changmin can see it now- the faint glow of a lantern behind a mausoleum. The quiet sound of shoes shuffling on dirt and concrete is barely audible over the cicadas’ drone. As they get closer, whispers and giggles reverberate around the graves.

A distinctive laugh confirms it’s definitely Junsu, and the other voices can only be his partners. Changmin bites his lips, flattening them into a straight line. Despite his still fresh sense of betrayal, his hesitance feels wrong. Just a few days ago he had been laughing along with them. Yunho is a calming presence next to him, an outsider that gives Changmin the confidence to put up a strong front.

I have an ally, even if you turned your back on me, Changmin thinks. He and Yunho round the mausoleum, where the three men are working at a new grave.

“Good evening,” he announces. “Dear friends.”

Yoochun almost knocks the lantern over, stumbling backwards. Jaejoong’s head snaps up from his digging and his dark eyes narrow. Junsu is speechless, mouth tight and twisted.

“Evenin’, gents,” Yunho says, voice light and sharp as he crosses his arms.

Jaejoong puts his shovel down. He brushes his hands off on his pants and steps forward.

“Changminnie, I’m a little surprised to see you here! Junsu told me you were taken in,” he says, voice soft and full of forced pleasantry.

“Yeah, well, I got myself out,” Changmin says. He keeps his anger in check. It’d do no good to lose his temper here.

He keeps reminding himself he needs something from these men.

“You...broke out of jail?” Yoochun asks, squinting at Changmin.

“I needed to get back to work,” Changmin says, checking out his fingernails.

The five men face each other. Yoochun eyes Yunho uncertainly. Junsu just stares at Changmin like he’s not sure if he’s awake or dreaming.

“So what brings you here?” Jaejoong asks, gaze locked on Changmin, before it shifts to Yunho. “And who’s your friend? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Changmin can feel Yunho tense next to him. He answers before Changmin can.

“Jung Yunho. I’m here to make sure you keep your hands to yourself.”

Jaejoong’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s an almost imperceptible raising of his eyebrows.

“Charmed. Jaejoong,” he says, cautious and terse. He gestures vaguely to his partners.

“Yoochun and Junsu, sirs.”

Junsu is scowling now.

“Alright, what do you even want, Changmin? We have shit to do, we can’t stand around chatting with you and your thug all night. Unless you wanna keep this grave warm until the police come to collect you again, step aside,” he says. He sounds nervous.

“So hostile. I’m in a bit of a rush too, you know. I had an idea- I’m willing to bury the hatchet,” Changmin says. “Leave you completely alone, never to bother you again...if maybe you’re interested in a trade."

Jaejoong tilts his head.

“A trade,” he repeats slowly.

“Right. A little information, and maybe something else.”

“‘Something else’?” Yoochun asks.

“Do you accept?” Changmin asks.

“Name the stakes,” Junsu says, stepping closer.

“Your truck, and an answer, for our truck, and some advice.”

The trio share a glance, then Jaejoong rolls his neck.

“First- why do you want our truck,” he asks. “It’s a wreck.”

“Ours is hot. They’ll be looking for it. But nothing a coat of paint won’t fix. It’s new. Big. Drives like a dream. Made for laundry. Inconspicuous. And a stolen truck is easy to explain away, especially to your cop friends.”

Yoochun nods.

“Deal on that,” he says. Junsu rolls his eyes at him, before glancing back to Changmin.

“What’s the answer you want?” he asks.

“Two answers, actually. You can pick whichever you want. One- have you noticed the amount of bodies from the morgue and hospital has been lessening?”

“We’ve been doing a lot of digging. Our favorite doctor started holding out on us,” Jaejoong says, pinning Changmin with a glare.

“The professor?”

Jaejoong nods. Why on Earth was the professor withdrawing his support of his long-time initiative all of a sudden?

“Second question,” Junsu interjects.

Changmin’s happy to see Yunho level a flat look at him.

He turns back to Jaejoong.

“Have any of the bodies you’ve been digging up been ...strange?”

Yoochun shrugs. “The stiffs? Well, they’re still not moving.”

Changmin laughs lightly. It’s good to know the bodies in the cemetery are still business as usual, but he doesn’t think he’ll be getting the answers he wants here. He puts a finger to his chin and turns to shrug at Yunho.

“Then that’s all, I guess.” He holds his hand out to Jaejoong. “Keys, please.”

Yoochun steps forward with the keys, but gets stopped by Jaejoong’s arm.

“Wait. You said you had advice,” Jaejoong says, a shadow of curiosity dropping over his face. “And we did answer both of your questions.”

Changmin nods. “That’s right. Well, it’s nothing definite yet, but...it might be good to lean off of the trade for a bit. Something’s not right about this bug going around. I won’t know anything for sure until I get some more information, but if you don’t want to end up in a hospital, take a break. Do something wholesome, like grand theft auto, maybe.”

Junsu snorts. “Yeah, okay. First you hold out on us, then you tell us there’s some mysterious reason we should lay off. You’re out of the morgues and school and I know you’re going to be desperate now, why would we give you the graves?”

Changmin feels his face get warm, but manages to keep his calm.

“I wasn’t holding out on you, I was trying to- never mind. That’s my warning, take it or leave it. Might be worth listening to a student of medicine about a possible epidemic, but it’s your choice. Nail’s in your coffin. Give them the keys and let’s get out of here, Jung.”

Junsu’s grinding his teeth as Yunho holds out the keys to the truck, and switches with Yoochun.

“Our truck’s by the south gate,” Yoochun mumbles.

“Ours is over that way,” Yunho says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. He still looks wary.

“Where are you going to go? Aren’t the police looking for you?” Jaejoong asks as Changmin and Yunho begin to walk past them.

Changmin stops, and fingers a stiff shirt cuff, tugging on it until the corners lie flat over each other.

“Undoubtedly. Funny thing is, I’ve nothing left keeping me here. It wasn’t impossible to clear my name when you turned me in, it would have taken quite a bit of bail, a lot of time...but at this point, I am an escaped convict. I've ruined my life, and it's my own fault. I no longer have any obligation to stay in this city, right?” Changmin says.

“I could leave and let whatever this is run its course. Epidemics are important- sort of like ‘cleaning the slate’. And tragedy always has such a nice way of bringing people together.”

He looks up. Yunho has a strange expression on his face, bordering between fear and fascination. Junsu is grimacing and Yoochun’s stare is full of desolation.

“But why on Earth would I throw my life away just to run? I want to help. It’s the only reason I would ever think of stealing bodies. I'm going to find out what's going on.”

Changmin looks out over the headstones.

“It’s the least I can do, after taking so much. This is their chance.”

Jaejoong crosses his arms, and sighs.

“There’s one thing you should know, and this is all I can say about it,” he says. “This sickness...it’s not entirely natural.” Junsu’s head snaps to Jaejoong, and they share a tension that hangs between them. Junsu breaks away after a moment and rubs his neck.

Changmin tries not to get caught up in the exchange, and focuses on Jaejoong.

“Do you know something?”

“You’ll figure it out, you’re a smart boy,” Jaejoong says. “But maybe you’re not as smart as I thought, if you haven’t figured out why they wanted you out of the way. Now get out of here.”

Yunho lightly slaps Changmin on the arm.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking hold of Changmin’s elbow. His hand burns Changmin through his suit jacket, but it’s a comforting, searing heat.

It makes him remember how warm people are when they’re not sixteen hours into decomposition.

Yunho hurries him through the cemetery, until Changmin gets his bearings and adjusts their direction to the south gate. The bodysnatchers’ truck waits in the deep shadow under some trees.

Changmin walks up to it and sighs.

“They weren’t kidding about the condition, unfortunately. We’ll be lucky if this gets us out of the city.”

Yunho pulls the hood open, peering inside.

“Doesn’t look too bad- there’s some corrosion here and there, but I think it’ll get us far enough,” he says, sounding optimistic.

They stand awkwardly outside the truck for a while. Changmin feels strung out, like he’s been run through a laundry machine. He stares at the ground, unsure how to collect his thoughts. His jaw hurts, too. He’s spoken more in the past three days than he has in a week.

Yunho clears his throat. “I think I get you a little bit more.”

Changmin blinks at the asphalt.

“Pardon?” he says.

“What you said back there. Makes more sense. I mean, you’re still a heathen and it’s still wrong, but...in a twisted way, I get it.”

Changmin allows a small smile to creep across his face, and grabs the door handle.

“I’m glad I’ve begun to put your ethical conflicts to rest.”

“I still don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, but I guess what I mean is...you seem like your heart’s in the right place. I’ll help you figure out this out. I mean, people dying is worse than stealing their dead bodies...I think. It can be your penance.”

Changmin shoots what he hopes is now a reassuring smile at Yunho, who for his part, smiles back as he gets inside the truck.

“‘Penance’, hm? I guess you could call it that.” Something catches Changmin’s eye. “What’s all that about?”

Bouncing lights in the graveyard. Lots of them.

“Cops,” Changmin says, before cursing. “Should have known they’d sell me out.”

Yunho starts the truck and throws it in gear.

“Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, my granny always said.”

“I don’t think that actually applies to our situation,” Changmin says mildly.

The truck finally gets its wind and begins to trundle down the street.

“Turn right at the end up here, and keep going.”

“Going where?” Yunho asks. “We need a place to go to.”

“I’m thinking- ugh, somewhere out of the city, somewhere we can have a bit of time and lay low...” Changmin murmurs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Guess we’re going home, then,” Yunho says, emerging onto the main road.

“What?”

“We’re going home. To the Creeks.”

Changmin licks his lips, and rapidly runs through what he knows about Yunho in his head.

“Your home. Where you...where you murdered someone,” he says.

“I didn’t murder anyone, I killed them. I had no choice. Besides, we’re only gonna tell my sister we’re there. If anyone finds out about me, we’ll have to get the hell out, and fast.”

“Okay,” Changmin says. “Okay. That...that might actually work. I mean, I’m sure they’ll be sending surveillance to see if you might have gone back after escaping, but they won’t recognize me. We can lay low. Figure out our next step. Figure out how to tell the Professor...I need to mail Kyuhyun.”

Yunho scoffs. “Don’t worry, you can write him another love letter soon enough. For now, we have a bit of a drive, so you might as well get some rest.”

Changmin leans back in his seat.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

Yunho looks over at him, fondness playing at his lips. “No, I’ll keep on. Helps me think.”

Changmin shifts his gaze to the road disappearing under the front of the car, and brings a knee up against the dashboard.

There’s a faint smell of formaldehyde lingering in the truck, it’s familiarity comforting to Changmin. The car’s motion soon lulls him into a doze, and he hears Yunho muttering a bit through the haze of sleep.

“Smells like shit in here...”

Something’s shaking him. Changmin groans a little, and tries to nuzzle back into his pillow.

“Come on now. Lazy boy.”

The high, unfamiliar voice jerks him back into consciousness, and he blinks his eyes open, shaking his head to clear it.

Yunho is standing over him, and Changmin makes a small noise of confusion. Why is Yunho’s hair long and glossy, held up by a flower, and why are his lips red and his face small and sort of the wrong shape...

“He’s not very quick, is he,” Yunho says with a smirk, turning back as he talks to...another Yunho.

Changmin sits up fully. He’s in the truck. Right.

It’s not Yunho in front of him, but a woman that looks almost uncannily like him at certain angles, if Yunho was a female. The actual Yunho stands a few paces away from the truck, grinning.

“Pardon me. I don’t think we’ve met,” Changmin says, voice husky from sleep. He stretches discreetly.

“Aw now you’re a gentleman, sure,” the woman teases.

It is absolutely a relation of Yunho’s, with that accent.

“I presume you’re the sister he’s told me so much about?” Changmin says, making to step out of the truck. Yunho’s sister gives him some space, and he stretches again, his shoulder popping.

Yunho nods. “This is Jihye, my little sister. Don’t get any ideas, she doesn’t need any unsavory types like you giving her a hard time.”

Jihye rolls her eyes. “Give the boy a chance to get his head right!” She smiles at Changmin again. “My brother can be overprotective, in case it somehow slipped your notice. I’m real appreciative, but it’s gotten him into no small amount of trouble. I’m glad he’s done his time though- and I guess meeting his friends, even if they’re doing something sneaky, isn’t such a bad deal.” Changmin gets the feeling Jihye’s flirting with him, especially with the way she’s looking him up and down.

But...’done his time’?

Behind her, Yunho is putting his finger to his lips.

“Ah,” Changmin says deliberately. “Yes. Yes, I think he’s learned his lesson. By the way, where are we?” He asks cheerfully, hoping the subject change didn’t sound as abrupt as it felt.

“The Creeks,” Yunho says. “The best place on Earth.”

Changmin and Jihye go to stand by Yunho, and Changmin takes in his surroundings.

‘The Creeks’ is some sort of wetland. The endless drone of insects is even louder here, and the air is thick and wet. Everything is a yellow-ish green as far as he can see, bright and mildly sickening.

Changmin sneaks a peek at Yunho. He and Jihye look proud.

“It’s lovely,” Changmin declares, even though he can feel himself starting to sweat through his jacket. He notices Yunho has already lost his jacket, so he removes his own and tosses it into the truck.

The siblings beam at him, and Jihye nudges Yunho with her elbow.

“I like this one,” she says.

“He’s not completely awful,” Yunho concedes, seeming fairly pleased.

“So, I’m assuming your village is around here,” Changmin says.

Yunho shakes his head. “We’re a bit out from it. I’m not telling anyone we’re here, and the truck can’t go too far. So Jihye brought us a boat.”

Changmin wonders where the boat is, searching until he notices a raft. ‘Raft’ is a generous term, it’s more like a few sheets of corrugated tin and thick, dark planks of wood twined together to make a floating barge.

“A ‘boat’,” Changmin repeats.

“If you need to go into town for anything, this is the only way to do it without drawing a lot of attention. You mentioned you needed a mailbox.”

“Yes,” Changmin murmurs, still trying to imagine himself stepping onto the thing Yunho refers to as a ‘boat’. “Mail. Right.”

“Yeah well, you can float up to the back of town and creep right in. I brought some blankets and such too,” Jihye says, pointing at a huge sack on the raft. “There’s some snacks, and Yunho’s shrimp trap and net- you’re lucky, my brother will have you eating real well if he hasn’t completely forgotten how to cook.”

Yunho laughs. “He won’t starve. Although he is a city boy. He probably can’t handle the food out here.”

Jihye smiles at him, and Changmin gets the feeling he’s intruding.

“Wanna get me back to the village?” she asks Yunho. “We’ll stop at the fork, then I’ll go it alone.”

“Right.” Yunho turns to Changmin. “You’ll be okay on your own for a bit?”

Changmin nods. “Of course. Take your time.”

He watches as Yunho and Jihye step on the raft and start rowing away. Their happy chatter is eventually drowned out by the buzzing in the trees. Changmin leans on the truck and looks up into the leafy canopy. A drop of sweat runs down his neck, and he sighs. He liked this outfit.

Changmin is concentrating on copying his notes and not smudging it all to hell with sweat when something crackles in the treeline. He resists the immediate urge to look up, and keeps his hunched position against a tire. He’s writing nonsense swirls as he listens closely, ears focused and intent on his surroundings.

There’s no other noises, but he’s aware of the distinct prickle of someone’s presence. If it was Yunho, he would’ve announced himself by now. Changmin yawns, using the opportunity to sweep the trees in front of him. He can’t see anything, but just as he’s well acquainted what the presence of something dead feels like, he knows what the presence of something alive feels like. He isn’t alone now, in any case.

As he stretches, he lets his hand drop to his bag, staying casual and light. He opens his tool kit within the bag, keeping his treasured instruments from sight as he ghosts his hand over their handles.

There’s some shuffling beside the truck, and he freezes as someone steps forward.

It’s a man, tall and burly. His skin is sun-darkened like Yunho’s, and Changmin realizes this must be someone from the village. He runs his fingers along the hammer and straightens up.

“Morning, stranger,” Changmin says, tipping his head in a bow.

There’s more rustling from the trees. Several men emerge from around the truck, prowling at a distance. Changmin’s stomach tenses.

“Mornin’, much stranger,” The man says with a grin that doesn’t quite fit his face. “What brings a slicker like you to The Creeks?”

Changmin tries to be equally aware of the people around him as he is the man in front of him.

“Just passing through. You have some lovely...shrimp down here,” Changmin says. He swallows, the sound clicking in his ears. He’s suddenly very aware of his intense thirst. This is not ideal.

“‘Just passing through’,” the man says. “Sure. Nice truck you got. Don’t expect it’ll take you very far here, though. Who’re you waiting for?”

Changmin laughs. “Just a friend- you probably don’t know her.”

The man frowns, and he gets a little too close to Changmin.

“I think I probably do. Who’s your friend, boy?”

Changmin has no clue what’s safe to say. Yunho’s name is mud, here, and Jihye is a complete unknown. He hesitates.

“You two must be real close,” the man says. “Can’t even remember her name.”

Changmin doesn’t move except to tighten his fingers on his bag. “We’ve been acquainted for some time.”

“You’re a shit liar.”

The man lunges for Changmin.

Changmin snatches his bag up and darts around the truck, towards the creek. The first few strides into the water are the worst, and he holds his bag up as he runs through the hip deep water for a small island. He climbs up onto the little island, panting and sopping wet. It’s little more than some exposed dirt and trees, but it doesn’t collapse under his weight.

He looks over at the men standing on the shore, glaring at him. Changmin wonders why they don’t wade the short distance to him, then notices them muttering and pointing at the water. Something rises almost imperceptibly, a rough scaly bump, and Changmin can make out a reptilian shape in the murky gloom.

At least twenty more of the things rise to the surface, their yellow eyes watching in all directions, and Changmin realizes he’s trapped.

The men grumble and start leaving, hollering some choice epithets at him, but not before one takes the opportunity to knife two of the truck’s tires. Changmin watches in dismay, fingers gripped tight around his bag as the group meanders away.

“Don’t bring your shady shit to the Creeks, city boy,” the head man calls, before they disappear into the trees.

Changmin slumps down onto the ground, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing pulse. His pants are plastered to his legs and hips with warm swamp water, and he wonders how the day could get any worse. Bugs buzz around him and get stuck to his skin, and he wipes them away with a grimace.

He hopes Yunho comes back soon.

next

and that's as good as it'll get for now. \o/
time to...time to lie on the floor...