Nothing Left But Altitude
Title: Nothing Left But Altitude
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Rating: PG-13
Genre: action, angst
Length: 31,350
Summary: Kyungsoo knows exactly who he is, what he stands for, and how much he’s lost. Or, at least, he did.
a/n: For the lovely stars_in_love. Originally posted here on kaisoommer.
Kyungsoo’s first memory is of fire.
It doesn’t matter what people say-that he must have some earlier memories, that in the room where he was found nothing had been burned, that when he was seven years old he was staying in a little villa in Greece surrounded by sparkling blue water and there was no fire, there was never any fire-this is a truth he has carried with him his entire life. It is the truest thing about him.
Kyungsoo is no stranger to loss. It’s kind of an occupational hazard in his line of work, and he’s known more than a few people who became desperate to get out-those who just couldn’t take any more blood, any more empty eyes staring into endless nothingness. Those who became what they had lost. Kyungsoo decided early on that he would never let himself be overcome by grief.
It gets easier as the years go by. Partners come and go-some survive, some drift into different parts of the organization, some reach their limit and shatter, some never come back at all. And eventually Kyungsoo begins to work alone. It happens slowly, imperceptibly, a solo mission here, a request for unassisted reconnaissance there. And before he knows it, it’s been months-years-since he was responsible for another person’s life, since he had to deal with more than gunshots and his own aching limbs screaming with fatigue as that ever-present fire smolders in his nightmares.
He likes it, if he’s honest with himself. It’s easy, simple, neat. All things that have always attracted Kyungsoo, always made him happy in that way only a perfectly organized desk drawer or a smooth, unmarked square of concrete sidewalk can.
“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Minseok asks with a wry grin as they lounge behind one-way glass, watching nameless nobodies get their jaws broken in the name of national security. “Living by yourself, not having a partner anymore?”
“Not really, not since the internet,” Kyungsoo jokes, and he doesn’t know if Minseok can see through his hollow laugh but he doesn’t care enough to ask. It’s been a while since he cared enough to ask.
Kyungsoo doesn’t need an alarm to wake up in the morning. After so many years, his body somehow wakes him up whenever he needs to be awake, no matter the hour. He can’t remember the last time he got more than a few hours of sleep. He can’t remember the last time he woke up without feeling like he was choking on thick, heavy smoke, the taste of acrid blackness burning the back of his throat. It’s been a while since he cared enough to remember.
“So, what is it this time?” Kyungsoo asks disinterestedly, sliding his fingers along the smooth table edge. “Seek and Destroy? Ambush? An Exchange?”
“I always forget how jaded you types get,” Junmyeon snorts, but when Kyungsoo shoots him a dirty look he’s met with a calm smile rather than the sarcastic grin he’d been expecting. “But actually, it’s none of those.”
“I haven’t been on any other type of mission in…” Kyungsoo trails off, silence hanging thickly between them. “Well, in a while.”
“I know,” Junmyeon says, glancing down at the file in his hands. “It’s always you in imminent danger, things blowing up and people shooting at you with big guns. But the mission we have for you now is more…delicate.”
“How delicate?” Kyungsoo asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Infiltration,” Junmyeon says matter-of-factly, slapping a folder down in front of Kyungsoo, ignoring his involuntary hiss of surprise.
“Target?” Kyungsoo asks, recovering himself and carefully leafing through the papers in front of him.
“K.E.X.O.” Junmyeon says, and this time he meets Kyungsoo’s surprised stare head-on, as if daring him to ask a question. Kyungsoo knows by now not to ask questions.
“When do I start?” is all Kyungsoo says in response, and Junmyeon’s face is equally blank when he meets his eyes.
“Next week. Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?” Kyungsoo says in mild surprise. “Why not the start of the work week?”
“Your partner won’t be finished with all the paperwork until then,” Junmyeon replies, keeping his eyes locked on Kyungsoo’s face as if to monitor his expression. Unluckily for him, and whomever he’s reporting to, Kyungsoo’s much too good a liar.
“You didn’t say anything about a partner,” Kyungsoo murmurs, fingers tapping absently against the folder in his hands.
“Command decided that this mission was too big for one person to handle. Besides, your story will be more plausible for most of these people if you have a partner-backup, as it were. A sidekick. Muscle. However you want to spin it.”
“And what kind of people are these, exactly?” Kyungsoo asks with a smirk, because he’s pretty sure he already knows. He hasn’t been put on a case like this in a long time. New partner, old villains. Could be fun.
“Oh, you know,” Junmyeon says airily, waving a hand as he ushers Kyungsoo to the door. “Unmerciful mob bosses, unscrupulous businessmen, and unprincipled liars. The usual. Your partner will be here tomorrow at 0800. Be on time.”
Kyungsoo strides out the door without reminding Junmyeon for the hundredth time that he’s never late for anything. He hasn’t been late in years, as Junmyeon knows perfectly well. But it’s a game that they play-pretending to be normal, pretending to be friendly colleagues who might meet up on Sundays to watch soccer games and drink beer, pretending to be anything but what they are. Sometimes Kyungsoo does get tired of pretending. But only sometimes.
His partner’s name is Kim Kai. Kim, one of the most common names in all of Korea, and Kai-a name that sounds as foreign as it does familiar. Kyungsoo kind of likes the way it feels in his mouth, all sharp corners fading into harsh emptiness.
“Nice to meet you,” Kai says shyly, ducking his head and holding out a large, warm hand.
Kyungsoo instantly dislikes him. He dislikes the way Kai looks so young and at the same time so old, dislikes the way his small smile makes him look like a giant puppy while his raised eyebrow makes him look like someone who knows their way around dark back alleys. He flat-out hates the way Kai’s voice is velvety and his legs are long and his face is all smooth lines, jutting cheekbones, and the way he is everything Kyungsoo has always wanted to be. Mysterious. Intriguing. Warm. Friendly. He practically exudes dependability coupled with a dangerous sense of adventure. You can smell the need to prove himself hanging heavy on his clothes, Kyungsoo thinks sarcastically. Like the family dog mixed with a kpop idol. The effect is unnerving, and Kyungsoo holds Kai’s hand for just a few beats too long, trying to figure out exactly what about him feels so off.
“This is Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon says wearily, and Kyungsoo drops Kai’s hand like he’s been burned. As their fingers slide against each other’s Kyungsoo feels rough skin and a thick callus on the middle finger. So at least he knows how to hold a gun.
Kai just nods, and Kyungsoo grudgingly gives him a mental point for not asking whether it’s Kyungsoo’s real name. Almost everyone asks. It just sounds too real-not self-righteous like Suho or strangely foreign like Xiumin. But Kyungsoo’s tried using fake names, inventing all sorts of aliases for himself, all sorts of fantastical cover stories, and it didn’t take long for him to get tired of it. Let them know his real name. Let them think it’s not his real name. Even if they tried to search for him, for his real story, they’d hit a blank wall. There haven’t been any records on Kyungsoo since he was seven years old. He’s made sure of it.
“We’re sending you to England first-London,” Junmyeon says, sliding slick plane tickets into their hands. Kyungsoo slips his into his pocket immediately, not much caring where he’s sitting or when the plane leaves. Those are things to worry about later, when he’s sitting in front of a table littered with knives and well-oiled pistols, wondering how much it will cost to bribe the bored airport officers. Kai keeps his plane ticket in his hand, running his fingers back and forth over the faintly raised letters.
“How long do we have?” Kyungsoo asks, and when Junmyeon turns towards him Kai turns too, eager eyes settling on Kyungsoo’s face. Kyungsoo feels the corners of his mouth tighten and wonders when he got so paranoid about people staring at him.
“Two days,” Junmyeon says grimly, ignoring Kyungsoo disbelieving scoff. “This is more information-gathering than anything. You’re looking for a group of acrobats who call themselves the Golden Dragon Dance Troupe.”
“So we’re going after a bunch of Chinese acrobats,” Kai says with a laugh, and Kyungsoo shoots him an annoyed look even though he’d been about to say the exact same thing.
“Would we be sending you if we thought they were just a couple of Chinese acrobats?” Junmyeon asks long-sufferingly, but Kai just smiles. “Command also says to tell you that if you end up having to engage them, try to avoid hand-to-hand combat.”
“Why? Won’t that give us the evenest playing field?” Kai asks curiously, and both Kyungsoo and Junmyeon stare at him in disbelief.
“These people are obviously trained in martial artists. You try to fight them and they’ll break your neck before you even have time to blink,” Junmyeon replies, closing his notebook decisively-their cue to leave.
Kai shivers at the words before standing and swinging himself out the door and down the dim hallway. As Kyungsoo follows after him, wincing as an old pain in his hip flares up, he wonders exactly how long Kai has been an agent.
The answer, Kyungsoo learns on the flight, is not long at all. Kai fidgets in his seat the entire time-leg shaking up and down, fingers twisting his small paper napkin into impossible shapes until it tears beyond repair, eyes roving over the heads of nearby passengers before sliding across the window and slipping back up to meet Kyungsoo’s steady gaze.
“I had kind of a complicated childhood,” Kai says with a shrug, pushing the pieces of ripped-up napkin into the seat pocket in front of him. Kyungsoo winces in sympathy with the poor flight attendant who’s going to have to clean that up later. “It seemed like joining E.X.O. was the best way for me to get some structure, you know? Do something important, or just something useful, with the ah…skills…I picked up. What about you? How’d you get into this?”
“I started training when I was eleven years old,” Kyungsoo says shortly, then turns his head away and doesn’t meet Kai’s eyes for the rest of the flight.
However, this doesn’t seem to do anything to dampen Kai’s need to talk. He’s one of those people Kyungsoo likes to call chronic silence-fillers, people who can’t sit next to someone they almost sort-of kind-of know without feeling guilty, like they should be having an engaging conversation just because they’ve been assigned to work together. Kyungsoo has little patience for those type of people, but Kai just looks so eager, so vibrant, so reminiscent of the person Kyungsoo used to be, that he can’t bring himself to shut down his steady flow of words with a brusque, angry phrase.
It’s not until Kai starts babbling about his old friends-someone called Sehun and another someone called Chanyeol who Kyungsoo thinks sound so entirely different he can’t believe they were friends with each other, though he can see how they both could be friends with Kai-that Kyungsoo finally breaks his silence.
“You were born when?” he asks in disbelief, as Kai mentions a favorite music video of his coming out when he was in his last year of high school. In case anyone (read: not Kyungsoo) cares, Sehun thought it was idiotic and Chanyeol watched it about a hundred times in the space of an afternoon.
“1994,” Kai says cheerily, and Kyungsoo resists the urge to hit his head against the seat in front of him in despair. “How about you? You don’t look old but I bet you’re one of those people who are older than most people guess, right?”
“Kai,” Kyungsoo says faintly, clenching his knuckles around the armrest of his chair, and wondering how he’s going to survive this mission when his partner is a complete moron. A complete moron only a year younger than Kyungsoo himself damn he figured it was much more than that. “Never tell anyone any of this again, okay? Ever. You mention the year you were born, who your friends were, where you went to high school, what your favorite sport is-any of the things you just told me-and you’re dead. Understand?”
“But-” Kai starts to say, but he doesn’t get far before Kyungsoo gets bored and puts him into a fairly effective chokehold, given the cramped conditions.
“Understand?” Kyungsoo repeats lazily, tightening his grip slightly as Kai gurgles indignantly and starts to struggle against his arms.
Kyungsoo lets Kai go after realizing that he can’t exactly answer with Kyungsoo’s forearm cutting into his windpipe. But Kai doesn’t say anything at all, instead opting to cough pitifully and punch Kyungsoo lightly on the arm. Kyungsoo’s surprised by the gesture-most people he’s done that to haven’t taken too lightly to being manhandled and Kyungsoo has ended up with plenty of retaliatory bruises. But Kai just looks away, rubbing gingerly at the faintly purpling skin at his neck, and starts talking about the clouds passing by the tiny window. Kyungsoo cracks every joint in his fingers and hopes that Kai didn’t try to retaliate because he thinks Kyungsoo is fragile, that he’s weak, that he’s small and needs protection. Kyungsoo most definitely does not need protecting, and especially not by a kid who doesn’t seem to know the first thing about his job. If Kai hasn’t figured that out yet, he will soon. Kyungsoo will make sure of it.
It’s late when they pull up to their hotel in a cab, Kyungsoo still marveling at the way hurtling down what he thinks is the wrong side of the road makes every journey seem more life-threatening than usual. He’s tired-exhausted, really-and he knows Kai is too because he’s finally stopped talking, instead curling into himself and falling asleep on his side of the backseat. Honestly, Kyungsoo thinks with a sigh, he doesn’t know who let this kid pass training but he would like to have a word with them.
He wakes Kai with a knife at his throat and a gruff whisper in his ear demanding his wallet, and he lets out a satisfied grunt when Kai whips awake, fingers twisting Kyungsoo’s wrist sharply to the side until the knife clatters out of his grasp. Kai’s pinning him hard against the seat, and Kyungsoo just barely manages to wriggle out from under his hands before the driver glances back and notices that something strange is going on. When they’re standing out on the rain-slicked sidewalk, watching the black car speed away into the night, Kyungsoo rubs his wrist absently and looks up to see Kai staring hard at him.
“Did I hurt you?” Kai asks tentatively, already recoiling like a dog that’s been kicked one too many times. Kyungsoo swallows the sarcastic words rising to his lips.
“If I die because you’ve fallen asleep on the job,” Kyungsoo replies evenly, noting the way his reprimand makes Kai stand up a bit taller, roll his shoulders back almost imperceptibly, “then I am going to come back as a ghost and haunt you forever.”
“You believe in ghosts?” Kai scoffs, turning and walking into the bright lights of the hotel with Kyungsoo right behind him.
“I believe the universe will find some way of punishing you, and I better be part of it,” Kyungsoo says, and he actually finds a small smile creeping across his face when Kai laughs loudly-all open mouth and bright white teeth.
It’s not until they’re opening the door to their small room, Kai heading straight into the bathroom, that Kyungsoo laughs himself-but once he starts, he can’t stop. Kai rushes out of the bathroom, hands dripping water all over the floor as he glances around for the source of Kyungsoo’s hysteria. Kyungsoo is doubled over, holding tightly onto his stomach as bursts of laughter shake his small frame. It could look like he was crying, if he weren’t being so loud.
“There’s-” he manages to choke out, pointing a hand towards the center of the room. “There’s only one-”
“What, afraid to share a bed with me?” Kai asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. That shuts Kyungsoo up pretty fast, though he’s still wiping tears from the corners of his eyes when Kai throws himself face first onto the bed, turning his head to the side so he can still be heard.
“Don’t worry,” Kai says, voice slightly muffled by the blankets. “I’m a deep sleeper.”
Kyungsoo turns out the lights, lies down on the cold sheets covering his half of the bed, and stares hard at the ceiling as he wonders why he found the whole thing so funny. Now it doesn’t seem funny-not funny at all. Kai sighs heavily in his sleep, rolling over so he’s facing Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo can feel hot breath fanning across his face. He rolls over in bed and shuts his eyes tight, willing morning to come as quickly as possible.
When Kyungsoo wakes up, shivering uncontrollably in the early morning chill, Kai is still asleep. Kyungsoo considers waking him with another threat, but decides against it. Despite what people say about him, he can still be charitable. He shrugs on a coat over the stale clothes he slept in-the clothes he wore on the plane yesterday-and splashes cold water across his face to clear the sleep from his eyes.
He feels as worn out and faded as the old blue t-shirt Kai is wearing, nausea from the travel and not having eaten in more than 24 hours curling in his stomach. Kai still doesn’t wake, even when Kyungsoo shuts the door a bit too hard behind him. The elevator down to the lobby is empty, and for that he is grateful, but the street outside is already full of people-mostly suited workers on their way to the office. Kyungsoo weaves his way through a throng of leather briefcases, expensive watches, and clinging cologne before finally emerging at his destination: the venue where the Golden Dragon is performing later today. Junmyeon had handed them the tickets just before they got on the plane-blood-red pieces of paper emblazoned with, what else, a golden dragon with flames licking out of its open mouth.
“But how are we supposed to figure out what they know about K.E.X.O?” Kyungsoo had asked in frustration. “Accost them as they’re changing into their costumes?”
“Use your imagination, if you still have one,” Junmyeon had said a bit sarcastically, shooting Kai an appreciative look when he snickered.
Nobody is around as Kyungsoo pushes open the heavy door to the rickety theater building, propped up by the grimy bricks of a small side street. On the right is a hair salon and on the left is the remains of a furniture store-long out of business, from the looks of the layer of dust coating the moth-eaten sofas and cracked tabletops. Across the street is a tall, thin apartment building-recognizable as such only because of the block of mailboxes sitting lopsidedly by the street.
“How unfortunate,” Kyungsoo mutters to himself, because that building would be the perfect place to set up an ambush and the Golden Dragon probably already has it under their control.
Kyungsoo hears the soft footsteps behind him before he hears anything else. With all the gravel and dirt strewn across the road, it’s a wonder that the person is managing to make such little noise. They’ve obviously been trained. Kyungsoo surreptitiously slips the hilt of the knife strapped to his forearm into his hand under the guise of adjusting the sleeve of his coat.
“Can I help you?” a quiet voice says from behind him, and Kyungsoo starts as if surprised by the sudden sound. He whips around and takes stock of the person standing in front of him.
The man is incredibly tall-at least to Kyungsoo, curse his lack of height-and incredibly thin though his arms, left uncovered by his loose tank top, ripple with muscle. When the man shifts, leaning against the wall of the building as he runs his fingers through his spiky, dyed-blond hair, Kyungsoo can just make out a small blue diamond tattooed on the column of his neck. Martial artist, then, and a damn good one too. Kyungsoo suddenly wishes Kai were here, if only to see how much damage “a bunch of Chinese acrobats” can do if provoked.
“I was told that you could help me,” Kyungsoo says slowly, and he knows he’s said the right thing by the way the man’s eyebrows raise in interest. This time it’s his turn to size up Kyungsoo-no doubt deciding whether he looks like the usual customer. What “the usual customer” is Kyungsoo has no idea, but he’d dressed for the occasion: nothing too flashy, nothing too easily fit into one category, a strange mix of dressy casual that prevents anyone from placing him, and generally from remembering exactly what he looked like.
“Told by who?” the man asks lazily, blinking so slowly Kyungsoo’s mind flashes to the cats he’s seen living near his apartment-all soft fur and sharp claws.
“Is it important?” Kyungsoo asks with a lopsided grin. “I decided they were trustworthy, or else I wouldn’t be here. Now do you want my business or not?”
“Oh, believe me when I say we would be pleased to do business with you,” the man replies, and then he’s uncrossing his arms and holding out a hand for Kyungsoo to shake. “Zitao.”
“Kyungsoo,” Kyungsoo says, ignoring the proffered hand. Zitao grins widely, teeth glimmering in the dim alley. “And I’d like to keep all of my bones intact today, thanks.”
“Ah, so you’re smarter than some others who’ve tried to ask for our services,” Zitao laughs, fingers sliding unconsciously across his tattooed skin. “Then tell me, Kyungsoo. What is your pleasure?”
Ah, Kyungsoo thinks with relief, a plan quickly forming in his mind as Zitao gazes down at him. This he’s done before, this is familiar, he can work with this.
“Well, obviously I’m not the one whose…preferences…you should be worrying about,” he says with a wink that has Zitao snorting good-naturedly. “My client is terribly wealthy and terribly bored. He also has…rather diverse tastes. I trust that won’t be a problem.”
“Oh, we like a good challenge,” Zitao purrs, and when he steps forward into the watery sunlight Kyungsoo suddenly notices that he’s wearing eyeliner. Standing like that-pale skin and silver earrings and dark-rimmed eyes-he looks quite intimidating. Much more like the spokesperson of a multinational prostitution ring than a cat.
“Excellent,” Kyungsoo says smoothly. “When can we meet to inspect the goods?”
“Come to the show tonight,” Zitao tells him. “I’m sure you can manage to get tickets, though we are quite popular in this part of the world.”
“I did say terribly wealthy, didn’t I?” Kyungsoo laughs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone like he’s losing interest in the conversation.
“See you then,” Zitao says with a small smile, and then he’s slipping silently back into the shadows, leaving Kyungsoo standing alone in front of the crumbling theater.
“Excellent,” he repeats, this time to himself, before walking back towards the main road to hail a cab.
He’s not sure what he’s expecting when he walks back into the hotel room, but it’s definitely not being jumped by Kai and yanked into a rough headlock the second he opens the door.
“Where-the fuck-” Kai grunts as he tries to close the door while still keeping a good grip on Kyungsoo, “did-you-go?”
“Maybe if you didn’t sleep so much you would know,” Kyungsoo huffs in annoyance, slipping the knife out of his sleeve. “And also, you’re now dead. Or impotent.”
Kai looks down to see Kyungsoo’s knife pointed directly at his stomach before it drags slowly downwards towards the zipper of his jeans. With a frustrated growl, he shoves Kyungsoo away and then sits down on the bed, watching as Kyungsoo tucks the knife back into his coat.
“Honestly, who even let you pass Basic Training with a headlock like that?” Kyungsoo sighs, sitting down across from Kai. He stretches luxuriously, just to be obnoxious, and grins at the way Kai’s eyes are drawn to the glints of silver peeking out from both sleeves and the bottom of his shirt.
“My training was a little rushed,” Kai admits, running his hands over his face and sighing heavily. Kyungsoo’s glad to see that at least he’s dressed now, in the same style as Kyungsoo himself. At least he’s got something right. “But they really wanted to put me on this mission for some reason, and so they said it didn’t matter if I was a little weak on some things.”
“A little weak,” Kyungsoo repeats, disbelief creeping into his voice.
“That’s what they said!” Kai huffs defensively, narrowing his eyes at Kyungsoo’s mocking tone. “And I do know enough to take care of myself, even if I don’t own as many weapons as you experienced types. Sorry I’m not some sort of super-spy like you are.”
“Oh, please,” Kyungsoo snorts before he can stop himself. “What do you think this is, James Bond? This isn’t a movie, Kai. This is real life, and people get hurt and people bleed and people die and nobody cares. Okay? If you can’t deal with that, then you might as well get out now.”
Kai glances towards the door, but when he looks back at Kyungsoo his eyes are hard and he’s sitting up straighter. Kyungsoo wonders why he’s so responsive to negative feedback. That’s usually a reflection of some sort of childhood problems, or so the basic psych class all agents are forced to take had taught him.
“I’m serious,” Kyungsoo says experimentally, and he’s interested to see that Kai’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Get out.”
“Make me,” Kai spits, rising suddenly to his feet, and Kyungsoo whistles appreciatively.
“See, that,” he says, smiling at the way Kai’s face twists in confusion, the way he seems to deflate as he sits slowly back down on the bed. “That, I can work with.”
“I don’t understand you,” Kai says softly, almost to himself, glaring at Kyungsoo as he crosses his arms protectively over his chest. Kyungsoo lets out a sharp bark of laughter before leaning back in his chair again, trying to look as relaxed as Kai is tense.
“Don’t worry,” Kyungsoo says. “You’re not the only one. Now, please tell me you brought a nice outfit with you.”
“Sure,” Kai replies, eyes flicking to his small suitcase sitting by the door. “Why?”
“Okay, good,” Kyungsoo says, ignoring the question. “I think we’ve found a way to put that smirk of yours to good use.”
“What smirk?” Kai cries indignantly, a red blush coloring his cheeks as Kyungsoo smirks himself.
“Get dressed, and I’ll order us some food,” Kyungsoo says briskly, but he’s happy to see that Kai’s is smiling. “You’re going to be important tonight. The star of the show, if you will.”
“And who exactly am I going to be?” Kai asks curiously, getting up and walking towards his suitcase as Kyungsoo picks up the room phone and dials the room service number.
“A disgustingly wealthy businessman in the market for a high-quality prostitute,” Kyungsoo says bluntly, and he has to bite back a laugh at the shocked look on Kai’s face. Kyungsoo turns his attention back to the woman on the other end of the line asking him what he would like to order, and doesn’t say another word until the food arrives.
“Go stand behind the door,” Kyungsoo says quietly when they hear a knock, along with a congenial voice saying “room service!”
“Why do I-” Kai asks in confusion, though Kyungsoo’s pleased to see that he’s moving anyway, already getting himself in position.
“Honestly, I know you’ve watched spy movies before,” Kyungsoo sighs, moving towards the door and standing on his tiptoes to glance out of the slightly-too-high peephole. “Room service is the easiest trick in the book for getting into someone’s hotel room.”
Kai snorts derisively before going still and silent but Kyungsoo ignores him, keeping the handle of his knife snugly in his left hand until the friendly bellboy has delivered their food and left as quickly as he had come. Kai emerges from behind the door, grabs a plate, and settles himself comfortably on the floor next to the bed. For a brief second Kyungsoo feels a sharp pain in his chest because Kai looks so terribly young, and Kyungsoo wishes he had ever been that young, that vulnerable. Kyungsoo’s always felt too old for his age, and he never had the life of sleepovers and schoolwork and friendship Kai had described on the plane. He’s never missed it. Until now.
“So, you’re a fan of chicken, huh?” Kyungsoo asks with a small smile as he watches Kai devour his food like he’s starving.
“Mm-hmm,” Kai mumbles, nodding his head vigorously as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s always been my favorite, Chanyeol always said-”
“What did I tell you?” Kyungsoo sighs in annoyance, already shoving his plate aside and moving threateningly towards Kai.
“Sorry, sorry!” Kai laughs, raising his hands to ward off a blow, but the defensive gesture looks a lot less serious when accompanied by his wide smile. Kyungsoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone who opens their mouth so wide when they laugh.
They eat in silence for a few minutes, Kai periodically sneaking glances at Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo immediately meeting his eyes every time until Kai looks away in embarrassment.
“Okay, fine, you can ask me one question,” Kyungsoo says, pushing his empty plate away and leaning back on his hands. His legs are spread out in front of him, almost touching Kai’s as they sit on the floor facing each other. He can tell Kai’s been dying to ask him questions, ever since the plane. He can afford it this once. “And I’ll help you out by saying yes, Kyungsoo is my real name.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Kai sniffs dismissively, and Kyungsoo gives him an appraising look. He keeps forgetting that Kai isn’t as simple to figure out as he appears at first glance.
“I’m waiting,” Kyungsoo prods gently after a period of silence. Kai looks up from an examination of the crumbs on his plate and stares steadily at him.
“Okay, so my question is…” Kai says thoughtfully, as if not quite sure how to continue. “You don’t sleep. Much. Do you have nightmares or something?”
“I’m not a child, only children have nightmares,” Kyungsoo says sharply, but Kai doesn’t look cowed. If anything, he looks more interested than before, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin in the small dip between his kneecaps.
“That wasn’t really an answer,” Kai says, and Kyungsoo wants to hit him but he can’t quite figure out why.
“Look,” Kyungsoo says slowly, and before he knows it the words are rushing out of him. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about me. Orphaned really young. Basically raised by a bunch of agents, bred to become one of the best E.X.O.’s ever had.”
He can tell by the sheepish smile on Kai’s face that he has heard the rumors. Kyungsoo’s a bit surprised, given how short a time he’s been an agent, but he supposes some rumors are juicy enough to filter down even to the trainees. Kyungsoo’s long since gotten used to being an object of fascination, speculation, confusion. He almost appreciates it now-the way it makes people unconsciously hold some sort of respect for him, no matter how much they may actively hate him.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, those rumors are mostly true,” Kyungsoo says, and Kai’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before his face smoothes over again. “But here’s the thing: I don’t remember anything from before my parents died. Those seven years…they’re just completely gone from my memory. I don’t even remember what my parents looked like, what their names were.”
“I’m-” Kai starts to mutter, but Kyungsoo glares at him and he immediately closes his mouth. Kyungsoo has no idea why he’s telling Kai all this. Not even Junmyeon has heard the whole story, and Junmyeon’s the closest thing Kyungsoo has to a friend back at Headquarters. Or maybe Minseok. But he’s never wanted to talk to either of them about any of this. He wants to talk to Kai. He wants Kai to know. At least one person should know.
“It’s not like it bothers me that I can’t remember them,” Kyungsoo continues with a cold chuckle. “You can’t miss what you never had. It was the shock of it, really. Ever since that day I’ve always been watching and waiting. I will not be caught off-guard again, if you’re going to hurt me I’m going to see it coming.”
And as he says it, Kyungsoo realizes how true it is. His entire life, he’s been just waiting for things to go wrong and then feeling vindicated when they do. It’s part of the reason he stopped working with a partner. He’d never been able to shake the feeling that anything bad that happened on a mission was his fault, that he drew bad luck to him like a disastrous magnet. If Kai is going to survive this mission, he’ll have to be just as vigilant as Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo had to warn him, is all.
“Well, you already know more about me than apparently you should, but you can ask me something if you want,” Kai says brightly, and his voice drags Kyungsoo out of his musings. For a moment he feels almost annoyed that Kai hadn’t reacted more dramatically to his confession, but then he realizes that this is perfect, this is exactly what he wants. He’s never wanted to be treated differently, and now Kai is doing just that. It’s like Kyungsoo had never said anything at all.
“Are you a good actor?” Kyungsoo asks wryly, glancing at his watch. It’s already getting late, they should probably move if they want to scout out the best spot from which to watch the show.
“Not really,” Kai says mournfully, but his expression twists into a smirk when he sees Kyungsoo roll his eyes. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Then come on,” Kyungsoo laughs, hauling himself upright and sighing as his joints crack in protest. He reaches over to the bedside table, opens the top drawer, and tosses Kai the gun he’d put there earlier. Kai easily catches it and tucks it into the back of his waistband, where it’s hidden by the swell of his coat. Kyungsoo remembers for the first time that, no matter how inept Kai seems at times, he is an agent. For some reason, it’s strange to think about. Almost as if, in the course of their conversation, Kyungsoo had forgotten what he is-what they are. He can’t afford any more mistakes like that. As a more literary-minded man might say, he thinks, they’re heading right into the belly of the beast.
Zitao greets them at the door-this time without a shirt on and with much thicker black lines darkening his eyes. He notices Kai staring and laughs loudly, ushering them in and pulling Kyungsoo aside briefly to assure him that all their performers, though admittedly quite expensive, are worth every penny. Kyungsoo gives him a brusque nod before following Kai down the steps into the theater, not letting his eyes slide down the planes of Zitao’s exposed chest and stomach. It’s not that Kyungsoo doesn’t have feelings like everyone else. But he’s made a career of pretending not to and he’s not about to stop now.
“Is that-is he-why are we here again?” Kai asks when they reach what Kyungsoo deems the best seats in the house. They’re sitting far enough to the side to see into the wings, and are right next to an aisle in case they need to make a quick getaway. Kyungsoo would prefer they sit nearer to a wall, so as to minimize the threat of attack to only three sides, but he also needs to keep up the façade of Kai being a buyer, and a buyer needs to be able to properly examine the merchandise.
“Just look interested and, when I tell you, we’re going to get up and go backstage,” Kyungsoo murmurs absently, eyes already scanning the crowd filtering into the theater. They look fairly harmless-a mix of tourists looking for a bit of excitement and Londoners perhaps drawn by the flashy signs Kyungsoo had noticed out by the main road. The apartment building across the way had been dark when they arrived, but he knows that means nothing in the way of safety. If Zitao had figured out who they were, they’d be hard-pressed to make it out of here in one piece.
Kai looks like he’s about to say more, but then the lights are dimming and the crowd erupts into applause as the dusky red curtain draws aside to reveal a woman standing in a bright spotlight. Her dyed-blond hair falls in thick waves around her face as she blinks heavy, black-rimmed eyes. She’s wearing some kind of headpiece made of delicate golden chains, and when she takes a small step forward Kyungsoo sees that silvery ribbons of fabric are wrapped around her hands.
He’s watched shows like these before-they seem to be a favorite cover for Asian crime syndicates operating in foreign countries-but this girl is one of the best he’s ever seen. Kai gasps in shock when she suddenly jumps up, flipping her legs over her head, and ends up high in the air, suspended by the ribbons wrapped around her arms. She’s about halfway through her routine-twisting and sliding, feet, legs, arms, hands falling and catching on the thick ribbons as gracefully as a normal dancer on solid ground-when Zitao appears in the wings, striding towards the center of the stage with his hands jammed nonchalantly in his pockets. Kai shoots Kyungsoo a look and Kyungsoo nods imperceptibly, keeping his eyes locked on the performance unfolding in front of him.
The girl leans back so far she’s almost lying horizontally in mid-air before letting go of her ribbons, the dark crystals sewn to her jet-black leotard glittering as she falls towards the stage far below. Kyungsoo tenses unconsciously, though he knows exactly how this is going to end, and his shoulders only relax when Zitao darts forward and catches the girl in his arms, spinning her around above his head several times before setting her gently on the ground. She immediately jumps away from his touch, waving sweetly to the crowd as applause washes over her. Kyungsoo hears Kai release a heavy breath next to him as the girl dashes offstage, stocking feet slipping slightly on the polished wood.
“And now that you’ve seen Krystal, our beautiful aerial dancer,” Zitao cries loudly, with all the pomp of a circus master, “please welcome to the stage Victoria, our talented tightrope-walker!”
“Do you think that now might be a good time to let me in on your little plan?” Kai hisses as Zitao walks offstage and the spotlight sweeps upwards to illuminate a dark-haired girl dressed in gauzy purple and deep blue, standing at the top of a tall platform.
“Simple,” Kyungsoo whispers back, one eye still on the girl stepping lightly across the thin, glistening wire. “We’re here for information, right? So we get invited backstage and then see what we can see.”
“And what are you going to do about our act? What if they ask for payment up front?” Kai counters, also keeping his eyes on the girl, who pauses halfway across the stage to face the audience and bow low before continuing. The applause seems endless.
“Look, I’ll figure something out,” Kyungsoo says, and he’d planned to say more but suddenly finds himself very distracted.
While they’d been talking, the tightrope-walker had left the stage and been replaced by a man in an emerald-green outfit, bowing before lifting his arms and throwing himself off the platform the girl had just vacated. The crowd gasps loudly, only to erupt into cheers when the spotlight sweeps over the falling man and illuminates the silver bar he’s holding onto. The man swings backwards, hooking a leg over the bar and pulling himself upright, and Kyungsoo feels the blood draining from his face.
The man pulls himself up until he’s standing on the bar and starts swinging back and forth, building up momentum. He turns to wink at the crowd-causing a smattering of laughter to sweep through the theater-before he lets his feet slip backwards, just barely grabbing the bar with both hands. Kai gasps in surprise, pressing a hand to his chest as he turns to glance at Kyungsoo, but Kyungsoo can’t bring himself to look away. The man swings back again, leaping upwards so he lands with both feet on the bar, and as he executes a perfect backflip the spotlight shines directly across his face. Kyungsoo feels like he’s been doused in icewater.
“Are you all right?” Kai asks carefully, glancing quickly behind them to check for any sort of imminent threat. Kyungsoo doesn’t want to answer him, and though he knows he should he just can’t.
“Give it up for Chen, our fantastic trapeze artist!” Zitao yells, skipping back onstage as the man lets go of the trapeze completely, falling fast towards the ground until he’s caught by a nearly invisible wire Kyungsoo can now see attached to a band of fabric wrapping around the center of his leotard. Impossible to notice, unless you knew what to look for. The audience gasps in collective relief as the man is lowered to the ground, running quickly offstage with his hands raised high in triumph. Even from his seat in the audience, Kyungsoo can see the man’s dark eyes glimmering with laughter, can see him reaching up to push his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Kyungsoo wonders when he last took a breath.
“Kyungsoo,” Kai mutters again, a bit louder this time, but it’s only when he reaches up to gently touch Kyungsoo’s shoulder that Kyungsoo unfreezes, jumping up in his seat and jerking away from Kai’s hand.
“Time to go,” he says shortly, ignoring grumbles of protest from the people sitting behind them as he and Kai move quickly into the aisle, taking the steps two at a time as they head towards the back of the theater.
“Kyungsoo,” Kai grunts again as they reach the back of the theater, where a man with a buzzcut and the same diamond tattoo as Zitao smirks and directs them towards a small, unmarked door. Kyungsoo ignores him, trying to process what he’s just seen, trying desperately to find some kind of justification, some kind of explanation. But then he decides that it’s useless-there’s no point wondering about anything he can’t confirm-and so he tries to shove the icy thoughts to the back of his mind the way he’s been taught, focusing only on the mission, only on what they’re here to do.
“Kyungsoo,” Kai says again, angrily, this time grabbing Kyungsoo’s arm and jumping out of the way of Kyungsoo’s retaliatory fist. “At least fucking tell me what I’m supposed to be doing!”
“Chen,” Kyungsoo manages to spit, stuttering heart rate starting to settle as they wind their way through a dark corridor. Kyungsoo can hear muffled sound coming from the end of it-quiet whispers and cut-off laughter. “You want Chen.”
“Thank you for finally answering,” Kai sighs sarcastically, his eyes hard, and Kyungsoo spares a moment to be surprised by how unfazed Kai is by his orders. Maybe he’s a better actor than Kyungsoo had thought if he can seem totally unaffected after being told he’s going to pretend to hire an expensive male prostitute.
Kyungsoo considers stopping just short of the end of the corridor, waiting in the bend before it enters the general backstage area, and listening to the performers’ conversations. But he decides against it, if only because Zitao is probably expecting them and it won’t do to keep him waiting if they want to stay on his good side. Not to mention the Golden Dragon can probably afford plenty of security cameras, hidden against the shadowy ceiling.
“Gentlemen,” Zitao purrs in that same velvety voice as they enter a wide, dimly lit room. Racks of brightly colored costumes cluster by one wall, while the other is dominated by a row of folding chairs facing a line of mirrors and small tables littered with cosmetics.
Kyungsoo glances over at Kai, but Kai is letting his gaze wander over the whole room before finally settling on Zitao, one eyebrow raised in condescending interest.
“Not exactly a high-class establishment you’re running here,” he says smoothly, and Zitao smiles, tongue sliding across his lips as he looks Kai up and down.
“Well, we do have to be careful,” Zitao explains, sweeping over until he’s standing directly in front of them. “But when it comes to my workers, I assure you, cleanliness is one of our highest priorities. As is discretion.”
“It had better be,” Kai says kindly, but the warmth of his tone doesn’t reach his eyes and Kyungsoo has to admit the effect is quite terrifying. “I assume Kyungsoo told you about my needs in this kind of exchange.”
“We’re all at your service,” Zitao says, just as a door on the other side of the room opens and the dancer-Krystal? Kyungsoo thinks-steps inside, freezing when she sees Kyungsoo and Kai standing there. But then she’s relaxing, slipping into the room and smiling darkly as her eyes sweep up Kai’s body. She’s changed out of her leotard and now wears a soft lilac dress that swirls around her knees. Somehow, it doesn’t make her look any less predatory.
“Am I finally going to get lucky?” she asks loudly, sidling up to Zitao and slipping her arm into his. As she turns to face Kai, Kyungsoo can just make out a small, dark tattoo inked onto the back of her neck. “What’s your name, beautiful boy?”
“Sorry,” Kai says sweetly, brushing his hair back from his forehead and shrugging. “Not today. I’m here for that other beautiful boy, the one in green who can fly just a little bit better than you can.”
“Of course you are,” Krystal pouts, as Zitao pats her consolingly on the head. Kyungsoo struggles not to grimace at the gesture. It’s one thing to see…Chen…onstage, and quite another to realize that he works with these people, that these people know him. That he’s one of them now. “Well, I can go tell him, he should be finishing his double act with Amber soon.”
“So you’ve made a choice,” Zitao says as Krystal flounces off. Kai stares after her for just a few seconds too long, and Kyungsoo has to nudge his arm to get him to focus on what Zitao is saying. “We have a strict policy of payment before any services are rendered, I’m sure you understand.”
“I understand that you don’t trust me,” Kai says, tone light despite the cold words, and Zitao seems a bit thrown off by the contrast.
“We’ve had some bad experiences with some upsetting clients,” he explains quickly, and Kyungsoo suddenly remembers why they’re there at all.
“Do I mind if I take a look around?” he asks, interrupting the rest of Zitao’s sentence, and both Zitao and Kai turn to stare at him before Zitao shrugs and nods.
“Of course,” Zitao says, before turning back to Kai and starting to say something about pricing.
Kyungsoo wanders past the row of mirrors, gazing at his pale face in each one of them as he passes by. He looks almost sick, he thinks, white skin stretched tight over ill-defined cheekbones and dark hollows cradling his eyes.
He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but Zitao and Kai are still deep in discussion so Kyungsoo slips over to the costume racks, flicking through a few hangers covered in silk and filmy gauze in an array of colors. He’s about to give up, wondering how upset Zitao would be if he tried to follow Krystal through the door she’d left out of, when he spies something dark tucked into a corner behind the very last rack.
Turning around, he sees Kai watching him and he shoots a significant glance at the clothing rack, hoping Kai understands that he should keep Zitao busy. To Kyungsoo’s surprise, Kai gets it right away, shifting slightly to the right under the guise of examining some jewelry left by one of the mirrors so that Zitao is now facing entirely away from Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo bends down and stretches his hand out to grab what turns out to be a piece of black fabric littered with tiny sparkling crystals. Of course.
The fabric is soft as he runs it between his fingers, but suddenly he can feel something rough rubbing against the pad of his thumb. Twisting the material so it absorbs more of the grimy light filtering into the room, Kyungsoo’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes what he’s found. On the inside of the leotard, right in the center of the chest, a symbol has been stamped into the fabric in dark ink. Kyungsoo runs his fingers over it wonderingly, watching as it swims in and out of his vision-black ink on black velvet-the symbol so familiar and at the same time so strange.
“Satisfied?” he hears Zitao ask from behind him. Kyungsoo spins around, carefully tucking the leotard under the back of his shirt and then tucking his shirt back into his pants.
“Quite,” he replies, nodding slightly to Kai. “Sir?”
“I am satisfied,” Kai says firmly, gesturing for Kyungsoo to return to his side, which he does. Kyungsoo sees Zitao giving him a look but he doesn’t bother to return it. He knows what he’s thinking. It’s all part of the job. “You’ll have the money in your account in an hour, and then I’ll be waiting at that address.”
“Wonderful doing business with you,” Zitao says with another broad grin, and just as Kyungsoo is turning away he sees it. There, on his bare collarbone, Zitao has another small tattoo. And it’s the same as the one printed on the leotard currently sticking to the small of Kyungsoo’s back. The same one he might have seen on Krystal’s neck.
Kyungsoo doesn’t speak until they’re out of the theater and down the alleyway, waiting for a cab by the side of the road. Surprisingly, Kai doesn’t either, walking beside Kyungsoo with his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Well, I think that went well,” Kyungsoo says tentatively, because for some reason Kai’s silence feels unnatural and he wants to break it.
“So you did get something out of it,” Kai replies slowly, eyes still fixed on his shoes. “I couldn’t be sure, I didn’t know if we’d left because we’d got what we came for or because that guy was about to come backstage. Chen, I think it was?”
Kyungsoo barely manages to stop himself from flinching at the name, but he’s pretty sure Kai notices his discomfort anyway. When he looks up, Kai is staring intently at him, as if expecting him to offer an explanation. Kyungsoo knows how dangerous explanations can be. He doesn’t say anything more.
“Okay,” Kai says the minute they’ve stepped into their hotel room and closed the door. Kyungsoo’s already on his phone, tapping out a message to Junmyeon to tell him that they’re out, mission complete for now. He’ll probably respond within a few minutes with plane tickets back to base. Junmyeon’s efficient like that, and Kyungsoo’s always appreciated it.
“Yes?” Kyungsoo asks, finally looking up from his phone and seeing Kai standing in front of him with arms folded across his chest. Oh, great. He should have known Kai wouldn’t be the type to just let things go.
“Obviously this is important,” Kai says darkly, sitting down across from Kyungsoo and narrowing his eyes as Kyungsoo tries to come up with a plausible lie to tell. “When he came on-stage, I thought you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes got all wide-and they’re normally pretty wide, did you know?-and you got really pale. Who is he?”
“A childhood friend,” Kyungsoo says, keeping his eyes on the ugly carpet rather than Kai’s inquisitive look. “I was just…surprised. To see him. There.”
“Good try,” Kai says sarcastically, and when Kyungsoo looks up in surprise he sees a satisfied smile curling across Kai’s lips. “You told me you grew up as part of the agency. Agents don’t have friends. Who is he really?”
“That’s none of your business,” Kyungsoo says roughly, standing and walking angrily towards the door. He has no idea what he thinks he’s doing, where he thinks he’s going. But he wants to end this conversation and the most effective way of doing that, he’s found over the years, is to walk out.
“I really think it is,” Kai calls just as Kyungsoo pulls open the door to their room. Kyungsoo stops, sighs, and turns, pushing the door closed again.
“And just how exactly do you figure that?” Kyungsoo asks, leaning back against the door.
“Look, obviously you had a problem with this guy,” Kai says quietly, and Kyungsoo doesn’t understand why he’s being so reserved until he continues. “If we…if there had been a problem, would you have been able to kill him?”
“What? Of course!” Kyungsoo says quickly, but he knows Kai doesn’t believe him by the way he’s looking at him. Kyungsoo’s not even sure if he believes himself. It had been a long time but…
“Look, I’m your partner,” Kai says defiantly, as if daring Kyungsoo to contradict him. “If you have a problem then I have a problem. Just tell me. Maybe I can help?”
Kyungsoo laughs harshly, but he quiets when he sees Kai staring at him earnestly, like he really believes he can help. Really believes that they’re in this together, that they need to trust and depend on each other. Kyungsoo glances up at the ceiling and wonders why he got assigned to work with this child who obviously doesn’t know the rules. Kyungsoo was born into the rules-has lived and breathed them for his entire life-and now he has to deal with this kid who pretends they don’t exist. Who pretends that they’re real partners, like in the police or some other pathetic little organization that deals with pathetic little problems and doesn’t have to worry about its agents turning on each other, as tends to happen when you teach someone to lie and steal and kill because eventually that becomes all they can do.
“You can’t help,” Kyungsoo says finally, because he’s decided that the best thing to do is just ignore Kai until he stops asking. Even Kai must get tired of asking at some point, right? A notification pops up on Kyungsoo’s phone and he’s pleased to see that their flight is in only a few hours out of a major airport. Bigger is better for passing unnoticed, and the sooner he gets that leotard back to base the better he’ll feel. “Pack. We’re leaving in a few hours.”
This time Kyungsoo really does leave the room to wander aimlessly through the busy streets, half-hoping for the sound of gunfire and yelling behind him, half-wishing every person who brushes past him on the sidewalk would pull a knife rather than mumble a rushed apology before continuing on their way. He wonders briefly what Kai is doing, before he reminds himself that he doesn’t care. Kai can take care of himself. Kyungsoo sure as hell didn’t sign up to do it for him.
Part 2
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Rating: PG-13
Genre: action, angst
Length: 31,350
Summary: Kyungsoo knows exactly who he is, what he stands for, and how much he’s lost. Or, at least, he did.
a/n: For the lovely stars_in_love. Originally posted here on kaisoommer.
Kyungsoo’s first memory is of fire.
It doesn’t matter what people say-that he must have some earlier memories, that in the room where he was found nothing had been burned, that when he was seven years old he was staying in a little villa in Greece surrounded by sparkling blue water and there was no fire, there was never any fire-this is a truth he has carried with him his entire life. It is the truest thing about him.
Kyungsoo is no stranger to loss. It’s kind of an occupational hazard in his line of work, and he’s known more than a few people who became desperate to get out-those who just couldn’t take any more blood, any more empty eyes staring into endless nothingness. Those who became what they had lost. Kyungsoo decided early on that he would never let himself be overcome by grief.
It gets easier as the years go by. Partners come and go-some survive, some drift into different parts of the organization, some reach their limit and shatter, some never come back at all. And eventually Kyungsoo begins to work alone. It happens slowly, imperceptibly, a solo mission here, a request for unassisted reconnaissance there. And before he knows it, it’s been months-years-since he was responsible for another person’s life, since he had to deal with more than gunshots and his own aching limbs screaming with fatigue as that ever-present fire smolders in his nightmares.
He likes it, if he’s honest with himself. It’s easy, simple, neat. All things that have always attracted Kyungsoo, always made him happy in that way only a perfectly organized desk drawer or a smooth, unmarked square of concrete sidewalk can.
“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Minseok asks with a wry grin as they lounge behind one-way glass, watching nameless nobodies get their jaws broken in the name of national security. “Living by yourself, not having a partner anymore?”
“Not really, not since the internet,” Kyungsoo jokes, and he doesn’t know if Minseok can see through his hollow laugh but he doesn’t care enough to ask. It’s been a while since he cared enough to ask.
Kyungsoo doesn’t need an alarm to wake up in the morning. After so many years, his body somehow wakes him up whenever he needs to be awake, no matter the hour. He can’t remember the last time he got more than a few hours of sleep. He can’t remember the last time he woke up without feeling like he was choking on thick, heavy smoke, the taste of acrid blackness burning the back of his throat. It’s been a while since he cared enough to remember.
“So, what is it this time?” Kyungsoo asks disinterestedly, sliding his fingers along the smooth table edge. “Seek and Destroy? Ambush? An Exchange?”
“I always forget how jaded you types get,” Junmyeon snorts, but when Kyungsoo shoots him a dirty look he’s met with a calm smile rather than the sarcastic grin he’d been expecting. “But actually, it’s none of those.”
“I haven’t been on any other type of mission in…” Kyungsoo trails off, silence hanging thickly between them. “Well, in a while.”
“I know,” Junmyeon says, glancing down at the file in his hands. “It’s always you in imminent danger, things blowing up and people shooting at you with big guns. But the mission we have for you now is more…delicate.”
“How delicate?” Kyungsoo asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Infiltration,” Junmyeon says matter-of-factly, slapping a folder down in front of Kyungsoo, ignoring his involuntary hiss of surprise.
“Target?” Kyungsoo asks, recovering himself and carefully leafing through the papers in front of him.
“K.E.X.O.” Junmyeon says, and this time he meets Kyungsoo’s surprised stare head-on, as if daring him to ask a question. Kyungsoo knows by now not to ask questions.
“When do I start?” is all Kyungsoo says in response, and Junmyeon’s face is equally blank when he meets his eyes.
“Next week. Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?” Kyungsoo says in mild surprise. “Why not the start of the work week?”
“Your partner won’t be finished with all the paperwork until then,” Junmyeon replies, keeping his eyes locked on Kyungsoo’s face as if to monitor his expression. Unluckily for him, and whomever he’s reporting to, Kyungsoo’s much too good a liar.
“You didn’t say anything about a partner,” Kyungsoo murmurs, fingers tapping absently against the folder in his hands.
“Command decided that this mission was too big for one person to handle. Besides, your story will be more plausible for most of these people if you have a partner-backup, as it were. A sidekick. Muscle. However you want to spin it.”
“And what kind of people are these, exactly?” Kyungsoo asks with a smirk, because he’s pretty sure he already knows. He hasn’t been put on a case like this in a long time. New partner, old villains. Could be fun.
“Oh, you know,” Junmyeon says airily, waving a hand as he ushers Kyungsoo to the door. “Unmerciful mob bosses, unscrupulous businessmen, and unprincipled liars. The usual. Your partner will be here tomorrow at 0800. Be on time.”
Kyungsoo strides out the door without reminding Junmyeon for the hundredth time that he’s never late for anything. He hasn’t been late in years, as Junmyeon knows perfectly well. But it’s a game that they play-pretending to be normal, pretending to be friendly colleagues who might meet up on Sundays to watch soccer games and drink beer, pretending to be anything but what they are. Sometimes Kyungsoo does get tired of pretending. But only sometimes.
His partner’s name is Kim Kai. Kim, one of the most common names in all of Korea, and Kai-a name that sounds as foreign as it does familiar. Kyungsoo kind of likes the way it feels in his mouth, all sharp corners fading into harsh emptiness.
“Nice to meet you,” Kai says shyly, ducking his head and holding out a large, warm hand.
Kyungsoo instantly dislikes him. He dislikes the way Kai looks so young and at the same time so old, dislikes the way his small smile makes him look like a giant puppy while his raised eyebrow makes him look like someone who knows their way around dark back alleys. He flat-out hates the way Kai’s voice is velvety and his legs are long and his face is all smooth lines, jutting cheekbones, and the way he is everything Kyungsoo has always wanted to be. Mysterious. Intriguing. Warm. Friendly. He practically exudes dependability coupled with a dangerous sense of adventure. You can smell the need to prove himself hanging heavy on his clothes, Kyungsoo thinks sarcastically. Like the family dog mixed with a kpop idol. The effect is unnerving, and Kyungsoo holds Kai’s hand for just a few beats too long, trying to figure out exactly what about him feels so off.
“This is Kyungsoo,” Junmyeon says wearily, and Kyungsoo drops Kai’s hand like he’s been burned. As their fingers slide against each other’s Kyungsoo feels rough skin and a thick callus on the middle finger. So at least he knows how to hold a gun.
Kai just nods, and Kyungsoo grudgingly gives him a mental point for not asking whether it’s Kyungsoo’s real name. Almost everyone asks. It just sounds too real-not self-righteous like Suho or strangely foreign like Xiumin. But Kyungsoo’s tried using fake names, inventing all sorts of aliases for himself, all sorts of fantastical cover stories, and it didn’t take long for him to get tired of it. Let them know his real name. Let them think it’s not his real name. Even if they tried to search for him, for his real story, they’d hit a blank wall. There haven’t been any records on Kyungsoo since he was seven years old. He’s made sure of it.
“We’re sending you to England first-London,” Junmyeon says, sliding slick plane tickets into their hands. Kyungsoo slips his into his pocket immediately, not much caring where he’s sitting or when the plane leaves. Those are things to worry about later, when he’s sitting in front of a table littered with knives and well-oiled pistols, wondering how much it will cost to bribe the bored airport officers. Kai keeps his plane ticket in his hand, running his fingers back and forth over the faintly raised letters.
“How long do we have?” Kyungsoo asks, and when Junmyeon turns towards him Kai turns too, eager eyes settling on Kyungsoo’s face. Kyungsoo feels the corners of his mouth tighten and wonders when he got so paranoid about people staring at him.
“Two days,” Junmyeon says grimly, ignoring Kyungsoo disbelieving scoff. “This is more information-gathering than anything. You’re looking for a group of acrobats who call themselves the Golden Dragon Dance Troupe.”
“So we’re going after a bunch of Chinese acrobats,” Kai says with a laugh, and Kyungsoo shoots him an annoyed look even though he’d been about to say the exact same thing.
“Would we be sending you if we thought they were just a couple of Chinese acrobats?” Junmyeon asks long-sufferingly, but Kai just smiles. “Command also says to tell you that if you end up having to engage them, try to avoid hand-to-hand combat.”
“Why? Won’t that give us the evenest playing field?” Kai asks curiously, and both Kyungsoo and Junmyeon stare at him in disbelief.
“These people are obviously trained in martial artists. You try to fight them and they’ll break your neck before you even have time to blink,” Junmyeon replies, closing his notebook decisively-their cue to leave.
Kai shivers at the words before standing and swinging himself out the door and down the dim hallway. As Kyungsoo follows after him, wincing as an old pain in his hip flares up, he wonders exactly how long Kai has been an agent.
The answer, Kyungsoo learns on the flight, is not long at all. Kai fidgets in his seat the entire time-leg shaking up and down, fingers twisting his small paper napkin into impossible shapes until it tears beyond repair, eyes roving over the heads of nearby passengers before sliding across the window and slipping back up to meet Kyungsoo’s steady gaze.
“I had kind of a complicated childhood,” Kai says with a shrug, pushing the pieces of ripped-up napkin into the seat pocket in front of him. Kyungsoo winces in sympathy with the poor flight attendant who’s going to have to clean that up later. “It seemed like joining E.X.O. was the best way for me to get some structure, you know? Do something important, or just something useful, with the ah…skills…I picked up. What about you? How’d you get into this?”
“I started training when I was eleven years old,” Kyungsoo says shortly, then turns his head away and doesn’t meet Kai’s eyes for the rest of the flight.
However, this doesn’t seem to do anything to dampen Kai’s need to talk. He’s one of those people Kyungsoo likes to call chronic silence-fillers, people who can’t sit next to someone they almost sort-of kind-of know without feeling guilty, like they should be having an engaging conversation just because they’ve been assigned to work together. Kyungsoo has little patience for those type of people, but Kai just looks so eager, so vibrant, so reminiscent of the person Kyungsoo used to be, that he can’t bring himself to shut down his steady flow of words with a brusque, angry phrase.
It’s not until Kai starts babbling about his old friends-someone called Sehun and another someone called Chanyeol who Kyungsoo thinks sound so entirely different he can’t believe they were friends with each other, though he can see how they both could be friends with Kai-that Kyungsoo finally breaks his silence.
“You were born when?” he asks in disbelief, as Kai mentions a favorite music video of his coming out when he was in his last year of high school. In case anyone (read: not Kyungsoo) cares, Sehun thought it was idiotic and Chanyeol watched it about a hundred times in the space of an afternoon.
“1994,” Kai says cheerily, and Kyungsoo resists the urge to hit his head against the seat in front of him in despair. “How about you? You don’t look old but I bet you’re one of those people who are older than most people guess, right?”
“Kai,” Kyungsoo says faintly, clenching his knuckles around the armrest of his chair, and wondering how he’s going to survive this mission when his partner is a complete moron. A complete moron only a year younger than Kyungsoo himself damn he figured it was much more than that. “Never tell anyone any of this again, okay? Ever. You mention the year you were born, who your friends were, where you went to high school, what your favorite sport is-any of the things you just told me-and you’re dead. Understand?”
“But-” Kai starts to say, but he doesn’t get far before Kyungsoo gets bored and puts him into a fairly effective chokehold, given the cramped conditions.
“Understand?” Kyungsoo repeats lazily, tightening his grip slightly as Kai gurgles indignantly and starts to struggle against his arms.
Kyungsoo lets Kai go after realizing that he can’t exactly answer with Kyungsoo’s forearm cutting into his windpipe. But Kai doesn’t say anything at all, instead opting to cough pitifully and punch Kyungsoo lightly on the arm. Kyungsoo’s surprised by the gesture-most people he’s done that to haven’t taken too lightly to being manhandled and Kyungsoo has ended up with plenty of retaliatory bruises. But Kai just looks away, rubbing gingerly at the faintly purpling skin at his neck, and starts talking about the clouds passing by the tiny window. Kyungsoo cracks every joint in his fingers and hopes that Kai didn’t try to retaliate because he thinks Kyungsoo is fragile, that he’s weak, that he’s small and needs protection. Kyungsoo most definitely does not need protecting, and especially not by a kid who doesn’t seem to know the first thing about his job. If Kai hasn’t figured that out yet, he will soon. Kyungsoo will make sure of it.
It’s late when they pull up to their hotel in a cab, Kyungsoo still marveling at the way hurtling down what he thinks is the wrong side of the road makes every journey seem more life-threatening than usual. He’s tired-exhausted, really-and he knows Kai is too because he’s finally stopped talking, instead curling into himself and falling asleep on his side of the backseat. Honestly, Kyungsoo thinks with a sigh, he doesn’t know who let this kid pass training but he would like to have a word with them.
He wakes Kai with a knife at his throat and a gruff whisper in his ear demanding his wallet, and he lets out a satisfied grunt when Kai whips awake, fingers twisting Kyungsoo’s wrist sharply to the side until the knife clatters out of his grasp. Kai’s pinning him hard against the seat, and Kyungsoo just barely manages to wriggle out from under his hands before the driver glances back and notices that something strange is going on. When they’re standing out on the rain-slicked sidewalk, watching the black car speed away into the night, Kyungsoo rubs his wrist absently and looks up to see Kai staring hard at him.
“Did I hurt you?” Kai asks tentatively, already recoiling like a dog that’s been kicked one too many times. Kyungsoo swallows the sarcastic words rising to his lips.
“If I die because you’ve fallen asleep on the job,” Kyungsoo replies evenly, noting the way his reprimand makes Kai stand up a bit taller, roll his shoulders back almost imperceptibly, “then I am going to come back as a ghost and haunt you forever.”
“You believe in ghosts?” Kai scoffs, turning and walking into the bright lights of the hotel with Kyungsoo right behind him.
“I believe the universe will find some way of punishing you, and I better be part of it,” Kyungsoo says, and he actually finds a small smile creeping across his face when Kai laughs loudly-all open mouth and bright white teeth.
It’s not until they’re opening the door to their small room, Kai heading straight into the bathroom, that Kyungsoo laughs himself-but once he starts, he can’t stop. Kai rushes out of the bathroom, hands dripping water all over the floor as he glances around for the source of Kyungsoo’s hysteria. Kyungsoo is doubled over, holding tightly onto his stomach as bursts of laughter shake his small frame. It could look like he was crying, if he weren’t being so loud.
“There’s-” he manages to choke out, pointing a hand towards the center of the room. “There’s only one-”
“What, afraid to share a bed with me?” Kai asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. That shuts Kyungsoo up pretty fast, though he’s still wiping tears from the corners of his eyes when Kai throws himself face first onto the bed, turning his head to the side so he can still be heard.
“Don’t worry,” Kai says, voice slightly muffled by the blankets. “I’m a deep sleeper.”
Kyungsoo turns out the lights, lies down on the cold sheets covering his half of the bed, and stares hard at the ceiling as he wonders why he found the whole thing so funny. Now it doesn’t seem funny-not funny at all. Kai sighs heavily in his sleep, rolling over so he’s facing Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo can feel hot breath fanning across his face. He rolls over in bed and shuts his eyes tight, willing morning to come as quickly as possible.
When Kyungsoo wakes up, shivering uncontrollably in the early morning chill, Kai is still asleep. Kyungsoo considers waking him with another threat, but decides against it. Despite what people say about him, he can still be charitable. He shrugs on a coat over the stale clothes he slept in-the clothes he wore on the plane yesterday-and splashes cold water across his face to clear the sleep from his eyes.
He feels as worn out and faded as the old blue t-shirt Kai is wearing, nausea from the travel and not having eaten in more than 24 hours curling in his stomach. Kai still doesn’t wake, even when Kyungsoo shuts the door a bit too hard behind him. The elevator down to the lobby is empty, and for that he is grateful, but the street outside is already full of people-mostly suited workers on their way to the office. Kyungsoo weaves his way through a throng of leather briefcases, expensive watches, and clinging cologne before finally emerging at his destination: the venue where the Golden Dragon is performing later today. Junmyeon had handed them the tickets just before they got on the plane-blood-red pieces of paper emblazoned with, what else, a golden dragon with flames licking out of its open mouth.
“But how are we supposed to figure out what they know about K.E.X.O?” Kyungsoo had asked in frustration. “Accost them as they’re changing into their costumes?”
“Use your imagination, if you still have one,” Junmyeon had said a bit sarcastically, shooting Kai an appreciative look when he snickered.
Nobody is around as Kyungsoo pushes open the heavy door to the rickety theater building, propped up by the grimy bricks of a small side street. On the right is a hair salon and on the left is the remains of a furniture store-long out of business, from the looks of the layer of dust coating the moth-eaten sofas and cracked tabletops. Across the street is a tall, thin apartment building-recognizable as such only because of the block of mailboxes sitting lopsidedly by the street.
“How unfortunate,” Kyungsoo mutters to himself, because that building would be the perfect place to set up an ambush and the Golden Dragon probably already has it under their control.
Kyungsoo hears the soft footsteps behind him before he hears anything else. With all the gravel and dirt strewn across the road, it’s a wonder that the person is managing to make such little noise. They’ve obviously been trained. Kyungsoo surreptitiously slips the hilt of the knife strapped to his forearm into his hand under the guise of adjusting the sleeve of his coat.
“Can I help you?” a quiet voice says from behind him, and Kyungsoo starts as if surprised by the sudden sound. He whips around and takes stock of the person standing in front of him.
The man is incredibly tall-at least to Kyungsoo, curse his lack of height-and incredibly thin though his arms, left uncovered by his loose tank top, ripple with muscle. When the man shifts, leaning against the wall of the building as he runs his fingers through his spiky, dyed-blond hair, Kyungsoo can just make out a small blue diamond tattooed on the column of his neck. Martial artist, then, and a damn good one too. Kyungsoo suddenly wishes Kai were here, if only to see how much damage “a bunch of Chinese acrobats” can do if provoked.
“I was told that you could help me,” Kyungsoo says slowly, and he knows he’s said the right thing by the way the man’s eyebrows raise in interest. This time it’s his turn to size up Kyungsoo-no doubt deciding whether he looks like the usual customer. What “the usual customer” is Kyungsoo has no idea, but he’d dressed for the occasion: nothing too flashy, nothing too easily fit into one category, a strange mix of dressy casual that prevents anyone from placing him, and generally from remembering exactly what he looked like.
“Told by who?” the man asks lazily, blinking so slowly Kyungsoo’s mind flashes to the cats he’s seen living near his apartment-all soft fur and sharp claws.
“Is it important?” Kyungsoo asks with a lopsided grin. “I decided they were trustworthy, or else I wouldn’t be here. Now do you want my business or not?”
“Oh, believe me when I say we would be pleased to do business with you,” the man replies, and then he’s uncrossing his arms and holding out a hand for Kyungsoo to shake. “Zitao.”
“Kyungsoo,” Kyungsoo says, ignoring the proffered hand. Zitao grins widely, teeth glimmering in the dim alley. “And I’d like to keep all of my bones intact today, thanks.”
“Ah, so you’re smarter than some others who’ve tried to ask for our services,” Zitao laughs, fingers sliding unconsciously across his tattooed skin. “Then tell me, Kyungsoo. What is your pleasure?”
Ah, Kyungsoo thinks with relief, a plan quickly forming in his mind as Zitao gazes down at him. This he’s done before, this is familiar, he can work with this.
“Well, obviously I’m not the one whose…preferences…you should be worrying about,” he says with a wink that has Zitao snorting good-naturedly. “My client is terribly wealthy and terribly bored. He also has…rather diverse tastes. I trust that won’t be a problem.”
“Oh, we like a good challenge,” Zitao purrs, and when he steps forward into the watery sunlight Kyungsoo suddenly notices that he’s wearing eyeliner. Standing like that-pale skin and silver earrings and dark-rimmed eyes-he looks quite intimidating. Much more like the spokesperson of a multinational prostitution ring than a cat.
“Excellent,” Kyungsoo says smoothly. “When can we meet to inspect the goods?”
“Come to the show tonight,” Zitao tells him. “I’m sure you can manage to get tickets, though we are quite popular in this part of the world.”
“I did say terribly wealthy, didn’t I?” Kyungsoo laughs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone like he’s losing interest in the conversation.
“See you then,” Zitao says with a small smile, and then he’s slipping silently back into the shadows, leaving Kyungsoo standing alone in front of the crumbling theater.
“Excellent,” he repeats, this time to himself, before walking back towards the main road to hail a cab.
He’s not sure what he’s expecting when he walks back into the hotel room, but it’s definitely not being jumped by Kai and yanked into a rough headlock the second he opens the door.
“Where-the fuck-” Kai grunts as he tries to close the door while still keeping a good grip on Kyungsoo, “did-you-go?”
“Maybe if you didn’t sleep so much you would know,” Kyungsoo huffs in annoyance, slipping the knife out of his sleeve. “And also, you’re now dead. Or impotent.”
Kai looks down to see Kyungsoo’s knife pointed directly at his stomach before it drags slowly downwards towards the zipper of his jeans. With a frustrated growl, he shoves Kyungsoo away and then sits down on the bed, watching as Kyungsoo tucks the knife back into his coat.
“Honestly, who even let you pass Basic Training with a headlock like that?” Kyungsoo sighs, sitting down across from Kai. He stretches luxuriously, just to be obnoxious, and grins at the way Kai’s eyes are drawn to the glints of silver peeking out from both sleeves and the bottom of his shirt.
“My training was a little rushed,” Kai admits, running his hands over his face and sighing heavily. Kyungsoo’s glad to see that at least he’s dressed now, in the same style as Kyungsoo himself. At least he’s got something right. “But they really wanted to put me on this mission for some reason, and so they said it didn’t matter if I was a little weak on some things.”
“A little weak,” Kyungsoo repeats, disbelief creeping into his voice.
“That’s what they said!” Kai huffs defensively, narrowing his eyes at Kyungsoo’s mocking tone. “And I do know enough to take care of myself, even if I don’t own as many weapons as you experienced types. Sorry I’m not some sort of super-spy like you are.”
“Oh, please,” Kyungsoo snorts before he can stop himself. “What do you think this is, James Bond? This isn’t a movie, Kai. This is real life, and people get hurt and people bleed and people die and nobody cares. Okay? If you can’t deal with that, then you might as well get out now.”
Kai glances towards the door, but when he looks back at Kyungsoo his eyes are hard and he’s sitting up straighter. Kyungsoo wonders why he’s so responsive to negative feedback. That’s usually a reflection of some sort of childhood problems, or so the basic psych class all agents are forced to take had taught him.
“I’m serious,” Kyungsoo says experimentally, and he’s interested to see that Kai’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Get out.”
“Make me,” Kai spits, rising suddenly to his feet, and Kyungsoo whistles appreciatively.
“See, that,” he says, smiling at the way Kai’s face twists in confusion, the way he seems to deflate as he sits slowly back down on the bed. “That, I can work with.”
“I don’t understand you,” Kai says softly, almost to himself, glaring at Kyungsoo as he crosses his arms protectively over his chest. Kyungsoo lets out a sharp bark of laughter before leaning back in his chair again, trying to look as relaxed as Kai is tense.
“Don’t worry,” Kyungsoo says. “You’re not the only one. Now, please tell me you brought a nice outfit with you.”
“Sure,” Kai replies, eyes flicking to his small suitcase sitting by the door. “Why?”
“Okay, good,” Kyungsoo says, ignoring the question. “I think we’ve found a way to put that smirk of yours to good use.”
“What smirk?” Kai cries indignantly, a red blush coloring his cheeks as Kyungsoo smirks himself.
“Get dressed, and I’ll order us some food,” Kyungsoo says briskly, but he’s happy to see that Kai’s is smiling. “You’re going to be important tonight. The star of the show, if you will.”
“And who exactly am I going to be?” Kai asks curiously, getting up and walking towards his suitcase as Kyungsoo picks up the room phone and dials the room service number.
“A disgustingly wealthy businessman in the market for a high-quality prostitute,” Kyungsoo says bluntly, and he has to bite back a laugh at the shocked look on Kai’s face. Kyungsoo turns his attention back to the woman on the other end of the line asking him what he would like to order, and doesn’t say another word until the food arrives.
“Go stand behind the door,” Kyungsoo says quietly when they hear a knock, along with a congenial voice saying “room service!”
“Why do I-” Kai asks in confusion, though Kyungsoo’s pleased to see that he’s moving anyway, already getting himself in position.
“Honestly, I know you’ve watched spy movies before,” Kyungsoo sighs, moving towards the door and standing on his tiptoes to glance out of the slightly-too-high peephole. “Room service is the easiest trick in the book for getting into someone’s hotel room.”
Kai snorts derisively before going still and silent but Kyungsoo ignores him, keeping the handle of his knife snugly in his left hand until the friendly bellboy has delivered their food and left as quickly as he had come. Kai emerges from behind the door, grabs a plate, and settles himself comfortably on the floor next to the bed. For a brief second Kyungsoo feels a sharp pain in his chest because Kai looks so terribly young, and Kyungsoo wishes he had ever been that young, that vulnerable. Kyungsoo’s always felt too old for his age, and he never had the life of sleepovers and schoolwork and friendship Kai had described on the plane. He’s never missed it. Until now.
“So, you’re a fan of chicken, huh?” Kyungsoo asks with a small smile as he watches Kai devour his food like he’s starving.
“Mm-hmm,” Kai mumbles, nodding his head vigorously as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s always been my favorite, Chanyeol always said-”
“What did I tell you?” Kyungsoo sighs in annoyance, already shoving his plate aside and moving threateningly towards Kai.
“Sorry, sorry!” Kai laughs, raising his hands to ward off a blow, but the defensive gesture looks a lot less serious when accompanied by his wide smile. Kyungsoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone who opens their mouth so wide when they laugh.
They eat in silence for a few minutes, Kai periodically sneaking glances at Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo immediately meeting his eyes every time until Kai looks away in embarrassment.
“Okay, fine, you can ask me one question,” Kyungsoo says, pushing his empty plate away and leaning back on his hands. His legs are spread out in front of him, almost touching Kai’s as they sit on the floor facing each other. He can tell Kai’s been dying to ask him questions, ever since the plane. He can afford it this once. “And I’ll help you out by saying yes, Kyungsoo is my real name.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Kai sniffs dismissively, and Kyungsoo gives him an appraising look. He keeps forgetting that Kai isn’t as simple to figure out as he appears at first glance.
“I’m waiting,” Kyungsoo prods gently after a period of silence. Kai looks up from an examination of the crumbs on his plate and stares steadily at him.
“Okay, so my question is…” Kai says thoughtfully, as if not quite sure how to continue. “You don’t sleep. Much. Do you have nightmares or something?”
“I’m not a child, only children have nightmares,” Kyungsoo says sharply, but Kai doesn’t look cowed. If anything, he looks more interested than before, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin in the small dip between his kneecaps.
“That wasn’t really an answer,” Kai says, and Kyungsoo wants to hit him but he can’t quite figure out why.
“Look,” Kyungsoo says slowly, and before he knows it the words are rushing out of him. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about me. Orphaned really young. Basically raised by a bunch of agents, bred to become one of the best E.X.O.’s ever had.”
He can tell by the sheepish smile on Kai’s face that he has heard the rumors. Kyungsoo’s a bit surprised, given how short a time he’s been an agent, but he supposes some rumors are juicy enough to filter down even to the trainees. Kyungsoo’s long since gotten used to being an object of fascination, speculation, confusion. He almost appreciates it now-the way it makes people unconsciously hold some sort of respect for him, no matter how much they may actively hate him.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, those rumors are mostly true,” Kyungsoo says, and Kai’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before his face smoothes over again. “But here’s the thing: I don’t remember anything from before my parents died. Those seven years…they’re just completely gone from my memory. I don’t even remember what my parents looked like, what their names were.”
“I’m-” Kai starts to mutter, but Kyungsoo glares at him and he immediately closes his mouth. Kyungsoo has no idea why he’s telling Kai all this. Not even Junmyeon has heard the whole story, and Junmyeon’s the closest thing Kyungsoo has to a friend back at Headquarters. Or maybe Minseok. But he’s never wanted to talk to either of them about any of this. He wants to talk to Kai. He wants Kai to know. At least one person should know.
“It’s not like it bothers me that I can’t remember them,” Kyungsoo continues with a cold chuckle. “You can’t miss what you never had. It was the shock of it, really. Ever since that day I’ve always been watching and waiting. I will not be caught off-guard again, if you’re going to hurt me I’m going to see it coming.”
And as he says it, Kyungsoo realizes how true it is. His entire life, he’s been just waiting for things to go wrong and then feeling vindicated when they do. It’s part of the reason he stopped working with a partner. He’d never been able to shake the feeling that anything bad that happened on a mission was his fault, that he drew bad luck to him like a disastrous magnet. If Kai is going to survive this mission, he’ll have to be just as vigilant as Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo had to warn him, is all.
“Well, you already know more about me than apparently you should, but you can ask me something if you want,” Kai says brightly, and his voice drags Kyungsoo out of his musings. For a moment he feels almost annoyed that Kai hadn’t reacted more dramatically to his confession, but then he realizes that this is perfect, this is exactly what he wants. He’s never wanted to be treated differently, and now Kai is doing just that. It’s like Kyungsoo had never said anything at all.
“Are you a good actor?” Kyungsoo asks wryly, glancing at his watch. It’s already getting late, they should probably move if they want to scout out the best spot from which to watch the show.
“Not really,” Kai says mournfully, but his expression twists into a smirk when he sees Kyungsoo roll his eyes. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Then come on,” Kyungsoo laughs, hauling himself upright and sighing as his joints crack in protest. He reaches over to the bedside table, opens the top drawer, and tosses Kai the gun he’d put there earlier. Kai easily catches it and tucks it into the back of his waistband, where it’s hidden by the swell of his coat. Kyungsoo remembers for the first time that, no matter how inept Kai seems at times, he is an agent. For some reason, it’s strange to think about. Almost as if, in the course of their conversation, Kyungsoo had forgotten what he is-what they are. He can’t afford any more mistakes like that. As a more literary-minded man might say, he thinks, they’re heading right into the belly of the beast.
Zitao greets them at the door-this time without a shirt on and with much thicker black lines darkening his eyes. He notices Kai staring and laughs loudly, ushering them in and pulling Kyungsoo aside briefly to assure him that all their performers, though admittedly quite expensive, are worth every penny. Kyungsoo gives him a brusque nod before following Kai down the steps into the theater, not letting his eyes slide down the planes of Zitao’s exposed chest and stomach. It’s not that Kyungsoo doesn’t have feelings like everyone else. But he’s made a career of pretending not to and he’s not about to stop now.
“Is that-is he-why are we here again?” Kai asks when they reach what Kyungsoo deems the best seats in the house. They’re sitting far enough to the side to see into the wings, and are right next to an aisle in case they need to make a quick getaway. Kyungsoo would prefer they sit nearer to a wall, so as to minimize the threat of attack to only three sides, but he also needs to keep up the façade of Kai being a buyer, and a buyer needs to be able to properly examine the merchandise.
“Just look interested and, when I tell you, we’re going to get up and go backstage,” Kyungsoo murmurs absently, eyes already scanning the crowd filtering into the theater. They look fairly harmless-a mix of tourists looking for a bit of excitement and Londoners perhaps drawn by the flashy signs Kyungsoo had noticed out by the main road. The apartment building across the way had been dark when they arrived, but he knows that means nothing in the way of safety. If Zitao had figured out who they were, they’d be hard-pressed to make it out of here in one piece.
Kai looks like he’s about to say more, but then the lights are dimming and the crowd erupts into applause as the dusky red curtain draws aside to reveal a woman standing in a bright spotlight. Her dyed-blond hair falls in thick waves around her face as she blinks heavy, black-rimmed eyes. She’s wearing some kind of headpiece made of delicate golden chains, and when she takes a small step forward Kyungsoo sees that silvery ribbons of fabric are wrapped around her hands.
He’s watched shows like these before-they seem to be a favorite cover for Asian crime syndicates operating in foreign countries-but this girl is one of the best he’s ever seen. Kai gasps in shock when she suddenly jumps up, flipping her legs over her head, and ends up high in the air, suspended by the ribbons wrapped around her arms. She’s about halfway through her routine-twisting and sliding, feet, legs, arms, hands falling and catching on the thick ribbons as gracefully as a normal dancer on solid ground-when Zitao appears in the wings, striding towards the center of the stage with his hands jammed nonchalantly in his pockets. Kai shoots Kyungsoo a look and Kyungsoo nods imperceptibly, keeping his eyes locked on the performance unfolding in front of him.
The girl leans back so far she’s almost lying horizontally in mid-air before letting go of her ribbons, the dark crystals sewn to her jet-black leotard glittering as she falls towards the stage far below. Kyungsoo tenses unconsciously, though he knows exactly how this is going to end, and his shoulders only relax when Zitao darts forward and catches the girl in his arms, spinning her around above his head several times before setting her gently on the ground. She immediately jumps away from his touch, waving sweetly to the crowd as applause washes over her. Kyungsoo hears Kai release a heavy breath next to him as the girl dashes offstage, stocking feet slipping slightly on the polished wood.
“And now that you’ve seen Krystal, our beautiful aerial dancer,” Zitao cries loudly, with all the pomp of a circus master, “please welcome to the stage Victoria, our talented tightrope-walker!”
“Do you think that now might be a good time to let me in on your little plan?” Kai hisses as Zitao walks offstage and the spotlight sweeps upwards to illuminate a dark-haired girl dressed in gauzy purple and deep blue, standing at the top of a tall platform.
“Simple,” Kyungsoo whispers back, one eye still on the girl stepping lightly across the thin, glistening wire. “We’re here for information, right? So we get invited backstage and then see what we can see.”
“And what are you going to do about our act? What if they ask for payment up front?” Kai counters, also keeping his eyes on the girl, who pauses halfway across the stage to face the audience and bow low before continuing. The applause seems endless.
“Look, I’ll figure something out,” Kyungsoo says, and he’d planned to say more but suddenly finds himself very distracted.
While they’d been talking, the tightrope-walker had left the stage and been replaced by a man in an emerald-green outfit, bowing before lifting his arms and throwing himself off the platform the girl had just vacated. The crowd gasps loudly, only to erupt into cheers when the spotlight sweeps over the falling man and illuminates the silver bar he’s holding onto. The man swings backwards, hooking a leg over the bar and pulling himself upright, and Kyungsoo feels the blood draining from his face.
The man pulls himself up until he’s standing on the bar and starts swinging back and forth, building up momentum. He turns to wink at the crowd-causing a smattering of laughter to sweep through the theater-before he lets his feet slip backwards, just barely grabbing the bar with both hands. Kai gasps in surprise, pressing a hand to his chest as he turns to glance at Kyungsoo, but Kyungsoo can’t bring himself to look away. The man swings back again, leaping upwards so he lands with both feet on the bar, and as he executes a perfect backflip the spotlight shines directly across his face. Kyungsoo feels like he’s been doused in icewater.
“Are you all right?” Kai asks carefully, glancing quickly behind them to check for any sort of imminent threat. Kyungsoo doesn’t want to answer him, and though he knows he should he just can’t.
“Give it up for Chen, our fantastic trapeze artist!” Zitao yells, skipping back onstage as the man lets go of the trapeze completely, falling fast towards the ground until he’s caught by a nearly invisible wire Kyungsoo can now see attached to a band of fabric wrapping around the center of his leotard. Impossible to notice, unless you knew what to look for. The audience gasps in collective relief as the man is lowered to the ground, running quickly offstage with his hands raised high in triumph. Even from his seat in the audience, Kyungsoo can see the man’s dark eyes glimmering with laughter, can see him reaching up to push his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Kyungsoo wonders when he last took a breath.
“Kyungsoo,” Kai mutters again, a bit louder this time, but it’s only when he reaches up to gently touch Kyungsoo’s shoulder that Kyungsoo unfreezes, jumping up in his seat and jerking away from Kai’s hand.
“Time to go,” he says shortly, ignoring grumbles of protest from the people sitting behind them as he and Kai move quickly into the aisle, taking the steps two at a time as they head towards the back of the theater.
“Kyungsoo,” Kai grunts again as they reach the back of the theater, where a man with a buzzcut and the same diamond tattoo as Zitao smirks and directs them towards a small, unmarked door. Kyungsoo ignores him, trying to process what he’s just seen, trying desperately to find some kind of justification, some kind of explanation. But then he decides that it’s useless-there’s no point wondering about anything he can’t confirm-and so he tries to shove the icy thoughts to the back of his mind the way he’s been taught, focusing only on the mission, only on what they’re here to do.
“Kyungsoo,” Kai says again, angrily, this time grabbing Kyungsoo’s arm and jumping out of the way of Kyungsoo’s retaliatory fist. “At least fucking tell me what I’m supposed to be doing!”
“Chen,” Kyungsoo manages to spit, stuttering heart rate starting to settle as they wind their way through a dark corridor. Kyungsoo can hear muffled sound coming from the end of it-quiet whispers and cut-off laughter. “You want Chen.”
“Thank you for finally answering,” Kai sighs sarcastically, his eyes hard, and Kyungsoo spares a moment to be surprised by how unfazed Kai is by his orders. Maybe he’s a better actor than Kyungsoo had thought if he can seem totally unaffected after being told he’s going to pretend to hire an expensive male prostitute.
Kyungsoo considers stopping just short of the end of the corridor, waiting in the bend before it enters the general backstage area, and listening to the performers’ conversations. But he decides against it, if only because Zitao is probably expecting them and it won’t do to keep him waiting if they want to stay on his good side. Not to mention the Golden Dragon can probably afford plenty of security cameras, hidden against the shadowy ceiling.
“Gentlemen,” Zitao purrs in that same velvety voice as they enter a wide, dimly lit room. Racks of brightly colored costumes cluster by one wall, while the other is dominated by a row of folding chairs facing a line of mirrors and small tables littered with cosmetics.
Kyungsoo glances over at Kai, but Kai is letting his gaze wander over the whole room before finally settling on Zitao, one eyebrow raised in condescending interest.
“Not exactly a high-class establishment you’re running here,” he says smoothly, and Zitao smiles, tongue sliding across his lips as he looks Kai up and down.
“Well, we do have to be careful,” Zitao explains, sweeping over until he’s standing directly in front of them. “But when it comes to my workers, I assure you, cleanliness is one of our highest priorities. As is discretion.”
“It had better be,” Kai says kindly, but the warmth of his tone doesn’t reach his eyes and Kyungsoo has to admit the effect is quite terrifying. “I assume Kyungsoo told you about my needs in this kind of exchange.”
“We’re all at your service,” Zitao says, just as a door on the other side of the room opens and the dancer-Krystal? Kyungsoo thinks-steps inside, freezing when she sees Kyungsoo and Kai standing there. But then she’s relaxing, slipping into the room and smiling darkly as her eyes sweep up Kai’s body. She’s changed out of her leotard and now wears a soft lilac dress that swirls around her knees. Somehow, it doesn’t make her look any less predatory.
“Am I finally going to get lucky?” she asks loudly, sidling up to Zitao and slipping her arm into his. As she turns to face Kai, Kyungsoo can just make out a small, dark tattoo inked onto the back of her neck. “What’s your name, beautiful boy?”
“Sorry,” Kai says sweetly, brushing his hair back from his forehead and shrugging. “Not today. I’m here for that other beautiful boy, the one in green who can fly just a little bit better than you can.”
“Of course you are,” Krystal pouts, as Zitao pats her consolingly on the head. Kyungsoo struggles not to grimace at the gesture. It’s one thing to see…Chen…onstage, and quite another to realize that he works with these people, that these people know him. That he’s one of them now. “Well, I can go tell him, he should be finishing his double act with Amber soon.”
“So you’ve made a choice,” Zitao says as Krystal flounces off. Kai stares after her for just a few seconds too long, and Kyungsoo has to nudge his arm to get him to focus on what Zitao is saying. “We have a strict policy of payment before any services are rendered, I’m sure you understand.”
“I understand that you don’t trust me,” Kai says, tone light despite the cold words, and Zitao seems a bit thrown off by the contrast.
“We’ve had some bad experiences with some upsetting clients,” he explains quickly, and Kyungsoo suddenly remembers why they’re there at all.
“Do I mind if I take a look around?” he asks, interrupting the rest of Zitao’s sentence, and both Zitao and Kai turn to stare at him before Zitao shrugs and nods.
“Of course,” Zitao says, before turning back to Kai and starting to say something about pricing.
Kyungsoo wanders past the row of mirrors, gazing at his pale face in each one of them as he passes by. He looks almost sick, he thinks, white skin stretched tight over ill-defined cheekbones and dark hollows cradling his eyes.
He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but Zitao and Kai are still deep in discussion so Kyungsoo slips over to the costume racks, flicking through a few hangers covered in silk and filmy gauze in an array of colors. He’s about to give up, wondering how upset Zitao would be if he tried to follow Krystal through the door she’d left out of, when he spies something dark tucked into a corner behind the very last rack.
Turning around, he sees Kai watching him and he shoots a significant glance at the clothing rack, hoping Kai understands that he should keep Zitao busy. To Kyungsoo’s surprise, Kai gets it right away, shifting slightly to the right under the guise of examining some jewelry left by one of the mirrors so that Zitao is now facing entirely away from Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo bends down and stretches his hand out to grab what turns out to be a piece of black fabric littered with tiny sparkling crystals. Of course.
The fabric is soft as he runs it between his fingers, but suddenly he can feel something rough rubbing against the pad of his thumb. Twisting the material so it absorbs more of the grimy light filtering into the room, Kyungsoo’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes what he’s found. On the inside of the leotard, right in the center of the chest, a symbol has been stamped into the fabric in dark ink. Kyungsoo runs his fingers over it wonderingly, watching as it swims in and out of his vision-black ink on black velvet-the symbol so familiar and at the same time so strange.
“Satisfied?” he hears Zitao ask from behind him. Kyungsoo spins around, carefully tucking the leotard under the back of his shirt and then tucking his shirt back into his pants.
“Quite,” he replies, nodding slightly to Kai. “Sir?”
“I am satisfied,” Kai says firmly, gesturing for Kyungsoo to return to his side, which he does. Kyungsoo sees Zitao giving him a look but he doesn’t bother to return it. He knows what he’s thinking. It’s all part of the job. “You’ll have the money in your account in an hour, and then I’ll be waiting at that address.”
“Wonderful doing business with you,” Zitao says with another broad grin, and just as Kyungsoo is turning away he sees it. There, on his bare collarbone, Zitao has another small tattoo. And it’s the same as the one printed on the leotard currently sticking to the small of Kyungsoo’s back. The same one he might have seen on Krystal’s neck.
Kyungsoo doesn’t speak until they’re out of the theater and down the alleyway, waiting for a cab by the side of the road. Surprisingly, Kai doesn’t either, walking beside Kyungsoo with his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Well, I think that went well,” Kyungsoo says tentatively, because for some reason Kai’s silence feels unnatural and he wants to break it.
“So you did get something out of it,” Kai replies slowly, eyes still fixed on his shoes. “I couldn’t be sure, I didn’t know if we’d left because we’d got what we came for or because that guy was about to come backstage. Chen, I think it was?”
Kyungsoo barely manages to stop himself from flinching at the name, but he’s pretty sure Kai notices his discomfort anyway. When he looks up, Kai is staring intently at him, as if expecting him to offer an explanation. Kyungsoo knows how dangerous explanations can be. He doesn’t say anything more.
“Okay,” Kai says the minute they’ve stepped into their hotel room and closed the door. Kyungsoo’s already on his phone, tapping out a message to Junmyeon to tell him that they’re out, mission complete for now. He’ll probably respond within a few minutes with plane tickets back to base. Junmyeon’s efficient like that, and Kyungsoo’s always appreciated it.
“Yes?” Kyungsoo asks, finally looking up from his phone and seeing Kai standing in front of him with arms folded across his chest. Oh, great. He should have known Kai wouldn’t be the type to just let things go.
“Obviously this is important,” Kai says darkly, sitting down across from Kyungsoo and narrowing his eyes as Kyungsoo tries to come up with a plausible lie to tell. “When he came on-stage, I thought you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes got all wide-and they’re normally pretty wide, did you know?-and you got really pale. Who is he?”
“A childhood friend,” Kyungsoo says, keeping his eyes on the ugly carpet rather than Kai’s inquisitive look. “I was just…surprised. To see him. There.”
“Good try,” Kai says sarcastically, and when Kyungsoo looks up in surprise he sees a satisfied smile curling across Kai’s lips. “You told me you grew up as part of the agency. Agents don’t have friends. Who is he really?”
“That’s none of your business,” Kyungsoo says roughly, standing and walking angrily towards the door. He has no idea what he thinks he’s doing, where he thinks he’s going. But he wants to end this conversation and the most effective way of doing that, he’s found over the years, is to walk out.
“I really think it is,” Kai calls just as Kyungsoo pulls open the door to their room. Kyungsoo stops, sighs, and turns, pushing the door closed again.
“And just how exactly do you figure that?” Kyungsoo asks, leaning back against the door.
“Look, obviously you had a problem with this guy,” Kai says quietly, and Kyungsoo doesn’t understand why he’s being so reserved until he continues. “If we…if there had been a problem, would you have been able to kill him?”
“What? Of course!” Kyungsoo says quickly, but he knows Kai doesn’t believe him by the way he’s looking at him. Kyungsoo’s not even sure if he believes himself. It had been a long time but…
“Look, I’m your partner,” Kai says defiantly, as if daring Kyungsoo to contradict him. “If you have a problem then I have a problem. Just tell me. Maybe I can help?”
Kyungsoo laughs harshly, but he quiets when he sees Kai staring at him earnestly, like he really believes he can help. Really believes that they’re in this together, that they need to trust and depend on each other. Kyungsoo glances up at the ceiling and wonders why he got assigned to work with this child who obviously doesn’t know the rules. Kyungsoo was born into the rules-has lived and breathed them for his entire life-and now he has to deal with this kid who pretends they don’t exist. Who pretends that they’re real partners, like in the police or some other pathetic little organization that deals with pathetic little problems and doesn’t have to worry about its agents turning on each other, as tends to happen when you teach someone to lie and steal and kill because eventually that becomes all they can do.
“You can’t help,” Kyungsoo says finally, because he’s decided that the best thing to do is just ignore Kai until he stops asking. Even Kai must get tired of asking at some point, right? A notification pops up on Kyungsoo’s phone and he’s pleased to see that their flight is in only a few hours out of a major airport. Bigger is better for passing unnoticed, and the sooner he gets that leotard back to base the better he’ll feel. “Pack. We’re leaving in a few hours.”
This time Kyungsoo really does leave the room to wander aimlessly through the busy streets, half-hoping for the sound of gunfire and yelling behind him, half-wishing every person who brushes past him on the sidewalk would pull a knife rather than mumble a rushed apology before continuing on their way. He wonders briefly what Kai is doing, before he reminds himself that he doesn’t care. Kai can take care of himself. Kyungsoo sure as hell didn’t sign up to do it for him.
Part 2